The gospel of Itchy Wiggle Christ by Gregory-John McCormick, Ralf Dellhofen (books to read for beginners TXT) 📖

fact of the quite mundane sort. ja, there is the pyromaniac fire that got me into this prison, and there are a few other transgressions of note, which i will understandably bypass at this juncture, but in reality, i´ve been a fairly decent human being, and have done some fairly "good" things in my life, more so than most peep-holes i know. but maybe i have not done enough? perhaps that is the question of the ages: what is enough? maybe one must give and do good until it hurts. but then, as always, "no good deed goes unpunished". maybe just doing the little good i have done in this shitty fucked-up world, i have been punished. what this has to do with dreaming about a sexy girl on an ami TV show, i don´t know. another trick that my mind plays on me so maliciously - constant memories and images of completely unrelated things. maybe i am schizophrenic? yoo-hoo!

 

jayus fookin´chrysler, it is as cold as my ex-wife´s heart outside! the second day of march, 2005. one would think that springtime would be just around the corner, but not in michigan. no no no, we must have snow. 100 cms of white shit on the ground, the temperature well below zero celsius. probably minus 20 celsius, i don´t know, i stopped paying attention to the weather, i only know it is FOOKING COLD and gray and horrible. white snowflakes fall from the sky and i can only surmise that it is frozen angel piss. hell is not hot and filled with flames, hell is a cold, frozen, michigan winter spent locked up in a nazi death prison with a gaggle of faggots and illiterate retards. i guess, life could not be much worse for me at this moment. i´ve not received mail from any friends or enemies or those in-between. shit, i would even appreciate another "hate-mail" letter, just to know that someone thinks of me, albeit in a very negative manner. and yet, not too many people think highly or positive of me anyway. i am a germ, a pestilence in this world. my worst crime being that i too-often make peep-holes think to much. nobody wants to think too hard about existence or the actual "worth of life". i tend to throw around these questions, and i tend to answer them based on my experiences - and usually the answer is, that there is no good answer - life is a waste of time, goodness is repaid with evil, everyone you know and love will either leave you or get sick and die. and maybe the only true joy that any human can actually feel, is the joy upon breathing their last slow breath, because they know that all this horrible shit in this world has come to an end - the pain is gone once life is snuffed out. and this certainly is not kind of information or idea that a person wishes to hear or read when they are trying their hardest to just get by in this world. there is this overwhelming desire for humans to reproduce. i´ve often wondered why? is it to gain some sense of immortality, knowing that one´s seed has been sown in human flesh? or maybe there is a dark purpose, because life is so fucking shitty, horrible, and filled with REAL PAIN, that a potential parent wishes to inflict life-pain on the flesh of their flesh. it all sounds biblical. like the book of job. but this time, it is "job, part II" featuring itchy as god and satan´s favorite punching bag.

 

perfect days projected, my enemy is vanquished. the leper drank the ooze that ran off his scabs. strange elations watching the image of the vanquished fade quickly from my mind. no love lost on that death. child molesters deserve nothing less than constant torment for all eternity. i bleed for the lost kittens and dogs, but the child molesters i would see doused in gasoline and set on fire. the day is won, just this one quit victory for me, the lowly suffering vigilante prisoner. do the leprechauns and faeries know i am in hell? can they help me? can anyone? or is it soon my time to say goodbye to this wicked wicked world?

 

didn´t i see the sun setting on my life, long ago? when i was in my late teens, i had a vision that my life would end when the century turned over. and i´ve been in prison since the century turned.

 

emotional octopus eyes. dirty humans, none worth the life of one beautiful octopus, or that of an elegant kitty-cat. i am a dream, being lived by a hollow shell of a wooden man, i am a puppet being manipulated in a dream by a psychotic puppeteer. i am a piece of dog shit on a sidewalk, and every peep-hole that walks by steps into my mess, my stink follows them all throughout their life. i am not surviving, i am not flourishing, i am walking through and endless haze of misunderstandings, heartbreak, and loss. if i am a dream, then this dream is certainly a nightmare. not even a noble octopus could dream what my life has become, my friend the octopus is beyond all the horror that is my life. if only i were a sleek and clean siamese kitty-cat, living in the care of a beautiful witch woman with long black hair, perhaps she can look like jennifer tilly, ha ha!, i would take cat-naps on her breasts and drink delicious goat milk. but even tho i were a cat, i would have to be a vegetarian cat. tho i also believe this is not so possible. it has always been a bit disconcerting to me that my dogs and cats had to have animal protein to live. but the joy that my animals felt when they were fed their cat-chow and dog-chow tended to overcome my trepidation. and animal food, it is not so full of meat. i don´t know. sometimes a vegetarian has to just accept some things and not think so hard about it. i am an octopus, swimming through the deep blue warm ocean, just off the coast of corsica.

 

hello all alien-abductees. i wrote many times about my own experiences with my friends from the skies. i´m not so sure what i´ve written about this subject in this book, i´m not sure about anything i´ve written in here actually. many times i write when my head is so groggy and unclear but full of thoughts, actually writing this stuff down is analogous to taking a shit, except my thoughts are the turds and what i write on this paper is the smear of shit on the toilet paper. to answer the questions, yes, i´ve been abducted by aliens many times throughout my life, the earliest was, from what i remember, when i was five years old, the last time was just before i came to prison. there were many times in between. it seems to me that i cannot even come close to describing it all, or even to describe a single event, at least not in this forum. perhaps one day i will write an entire book about it, because there are many influences that the aliens have given to me, some good and some bad. i definately think they influenced my painting style and choice of subjects. i paint retarded-looking aliens very often. my only problem with the aliens as far as what my life has become, is that those dirty fuckers have not visited or tried to get me out of this hell-hole prison. but then again, no one else, human or otherwise, has visited me in prison, shit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9. The Gospel of Itchy Wiggle Christ

when god doesn´t make sense, humans seem to suffer whether their god makes sense or not, in fact it seems more likely that humans suffer more just trying to figure out how their god could be so wicked or without conscience. it seems a better plan to accept that life sucks in many horrible ways, and leave the god part out of the whole mix. to suffer is the lot of man+woman. if there is a god, he is certainly a cruel master. either that, or satan is more powerful than the bible lets on. because this world is going to hell, there is so much bad, so much evil. i am a good example - i should have been let out of prison years ago, but the evil nazis in michigan are enjoying keeping me in prison - it´s not legal, it´s not right, but it is happening nonetheless, and there is nothing apparently that any person is able to do about it. god never answered any prayers of those who pray for my release and an end to my needless suffering, in fact, it seems that god wants me to suffer - because all attempts to fight the evil michigan nazis have failed. satan is winning or god is winning - it makes no difference. and the more credance i give to whatever human or ethereal entity that is causing me to suffer only gives that entity more power. when god doesn´t make sense, did he ever?

 

i once met a girl after one of my concerts, it was in bonn, germany, at some really strange little club. i was ill again, as i am normally on tour, with basic congestion and sore throat. as a way to keep myself energized and able to play a concert every night or so, i ingest speed, but because snorting speed makes my vocal cords constrict, i have to dilute the white speed powder into a beer and drink it down, and on this occasion in bonn i did not change my "habit", in fact, i ingested quite a bit of speed, so much that i was a super-wired frizzle-fry speedy freak. my brain was on fire. so there was this girl laying on the stage long after the concert was over, all the guys taking the equipment down and stepping around her - she was a mess, obviously on some heavier drug than i was. i had to do an interview, so i left for awhile - the interviewer was a very cute little punk girl - she took me to her car and we sat in the car seats, she asked me questions which i answered into a hand-held tape recorder. we talked quite a bit and ended up having sex. i wondered if the interview was just a front the girl put up to get me alone in her car and ravage my body! i went back into the club, and the other girl was still laying on the stage, but she was laughing at apparently nothing. i had to talk to this girl, she seemed crazy - just my type! she was young, thin, a very nice body, she dressed something like a hippy with punk accoutrements. she told me her name was alexandra, and that she wanted to "be" with me. it was strange, but really no stranger than most of my encounters with girls on tour.