Boys… my favorite, adored boys—hey.
Alright, puppeteers—
hi.
You guys who are tight with Hollywood.
Damn, you’re power.
Yesterday you got every dick hard.
Deep bow, boys.
Thank you.
Boys—
for love,
for the inner alpha.
charged as hell

Alan Walker & Meek Mill – “Dancing in Love”

Guys, I don’t even want to touch this shit, but with everything going on in the world, the internet’s like a cable shoved up someone’s ass—no telling when it’ll work properly 😬
Alright, more, more, more…
I wanted—
what did I want—
ah.
Boys—the ones who devalue their wives, or God forbid still do—
I’m giving you one week.
If in a week I find out this whole shitshow isn’t fixed,
that your woman isn’t glowing, isn’t crying from happiness,
that the alpha isn’t sitting in therapy with his wife with his balls in a vice—
I will throw you a celebration you won’t forget.
You know me.
If I said it—I’ll do it.
I’ll block not just your money, but your dick too.
Even pissing will hurt.
So swallow it and fix your shit. Fast.
God, I’m pissed.
I write so much about respect for women,
and you animals—what the hell did you turn this into?!
I’ll cut down every single one of you who treats women like that.
Last warning, boys.
Moving on.
Puppeteers, Hollywood,
politicians—
booooys…
What the hell is wrong with you?
The world’s falling apart and you’re sitting there picking cashmere for your dick?
Wake up.
I’ll bring in a practice to shift the world—but after I’m back from vacation.
For now—
you’re fixing everything.
Hey—hey—hey.
Quiet.
Don’t you dare argue with me.
Quiet.
On your knees.
I’ll take a telescopic baton and put on heels.
Boys—
strictly—
get the world in order.
Charity.
Children, children, children—
children.
The most important thing in this world.
Fix everything immediately.
Put it in order.
Children.
Boys, I’ll check the field by the end of the week.
If you bastards don’t change anything—
no whip for you,
no slaps,
no hits—
you get nothing.
Caleb’s father—
and all the same bastards with real power and connections—
straight into real charity. Now.
And don’t you fucking dare just write a check.
I want you in it for real.
Fix everything that has to do with children.
Then you can sit and cry about what a mess your life is.
Children need to be raised.
Here’s the warning:
if even one of you sits this out—
if even one of you gets greedy and doesn’t invest in children—
I will cut you off from the field instantly.
And you’re not getting back in.
I don’t need bastards like that near me.
Fire yourselves up and go invest in children.
Caleb’s father—
don’t you dare make a sound.