Alternative Reality

“That’s not real.” says JFK to Lacey in disgust.

In an alternate universe situation arranged by God yesterday for the purposes of helping Lem in counseling Lacey hurt and exhausted herself. In said situation Lem was in Lacey’s shoes and…he was even more obnoxious and idiotic and poop kissing to the Kennedy’s.

But this morning this woman…is attacking him. And his entire family. Or she isn’t and it’s simply a thought not a real option.

What is this woman’s name? Margaret Kennedy. Margaret Rose Kennedy. In an alternate universe she was JFK. She was Joe Kennedy Sr.’s oldest daughter and she essentially was JFK to him when her older brother died in WWII.

Lacey was the one who thought she was homosexual but wasn’t. And…in that scenario Lacey was raped at knifepoint by Maggie Kennedy who sociopathically killed three of her dogs growing-up. …Maggie was the first female U. S. President in the early 1960’s. And she too was shot. But in this case by the Soviet Russians when she killed several top Soviet military generals just because she didn’t like them. It was worse and yet better…

Lacey moved to France after she was shot. In 1963. Lacey’s last words to everyone were, “I hate this country so much I’m going to have to leave it. Its a gutter filled with rats and violent Irish whores. I’m going to a country where they still drink wine and women don’t wear bras that make their tits turn into triangles.” It was understood by many scholars that Lacey wasn’t homosexual. In France she dated and slept with several men before dying sadly and tragically in her 60’s. People…in this scenario were mystified by Maggie but terrified of Lacey. It was…possibly far less evil overall.

In this scenario the two women actually were real friends. Not lovers. Maggie was…not well in her head. She killed dogs and her siblings blew-up mice. She was…a violent, pushy woman. But Lacey threatened Maggie’s life after trying homosexual sex once after Maggie literally threatened to kill Lacey and her whole family if she didn’t. And that was the end of that. Maggie knew Lacey was serious and Lacey was fine after she violently threatened Maggie’s life.

Maggie was feminine. Not masculine. She was what we’d call a lipstick lesbian. Pretty but not extraordinary. Platinum blond. She might have been bisexual not lesbian? Lacey doesn’t know.

Lacey once seriously told Maggie in Paris that she loved a Chanel coat more than her when asked and Maggie was devastated and threatened to kill herself. But she didn’t. And Lacey was…loving but…confused.

Perhaps…in retrospect, as Lacey writes this, she wonders if Maggie got over her. In Paris? After the coat conversation. …They were real friends. Sort of. I mean…Maggie genuinely raped Lacey. And she was sociopathic so it’s not completely clear. But that was the genuine premise of their initial relationship in Lacey’s mind.

“Did she cum?” asked Lem in 2023 of Lacey.

(Adult content below)

“What?!” asked Lacey.

“Well…she was aroused by you. Wasn’t she?” he asked in cold, jealous, cruel, accusatory hatred.

“Oh…I suppose.” says Lacey. “But I was raped at knifepoint Lem!”

“Yeah! But you read that book. Didn’t the book you read explain that part?” he asked.

“Yeah! But I was raped!” says Lacey.

“Yeah, but she didn’t?” he asks.

“No! I didn’t like that part of the book because…honestly…it bored me.” says Lacey. “I tend to get bored and fail at my studies at times.”

“So she really raped you?” asks Lem.

“Yes!! I just said that she did twice!” said Lacey hurt and losing patience.

He was floored. Floored that Lacey was attracted to him because Lacey is so pretty. And the conversation ended after Lacey was too hurt.

“No. Lacey’s not lacking in any way. And Maggie is…Jack’s worse nightmare.” says Lem. “She was madly in love with Lacey but she didn’t…get hurt by it when Lacey rejected her, ultimately. She was hurt at first but she managed to eventually get over it.” He looks upset. “But I attacked Lacey for hours because I felt bad for Maggie that she wasn’t loved by Lacey.”

“Why?” asks a lesbian feminist in our reality.

“Because she was…desperate for Lacey’s love. And I relate to that.” he says hearing the stupidity of his words as he says them.

“Lem…you’re not a sociopathic dog killing rapist woman.” says the lesbian feminist to Lem.

“No. But…she was…in love…I guess.” he says.

“But Lem that’s not…-Lem you’re turning Lacey into JACK. She’s not Jack!!!” yells Michael Rockefeller.

He looks indignant at first and then thinks. “I made myself virtually meaningless as a human.” He thinks. “But I can’t say that because I love Lacey and I’m not that worthless at heart!”

“Lem do you think you forced yourself to have sex and treat Jack like Lacey?” asks a male psychologist in our reality.

Lem steuggles. “She thinks I did. But I can’t believe I did.”

“Why? There’s photographic evidence.” says the man.

“But I can’t look.” he says.

“Why?” asks the psychiatrist.

“It’s almost too painful.” he says. “I’ve tried.”

“Look!!!” yells another psychiatrist.

Lem gets God to help him. He’s possibly physically incapable of it otherwise. Possibly due to drug use while alive.

He looks. He did touch Jack lovingly. Shove his head into his crotch. And he’s actually almost violently seizing and vomiting inside but he’s forcing himself to out of a sense of courage and duty. Duty to God to try to be happy. Duty to America.

“He’s not experiencing that?” asks Lem in horror when he looks at Jack’s orgasmic, BLISS filled face and then at that Trayvon Martin stabs Lem in the gut. Lem recovers and listens to Trayvon explain that he’s like Lem and the police, his attackers are like Jack. They were given their authority not to hear his real feelings and innocence by Lem. In those specific photos specifically but also in all their interactions. “No, you made Jack happy the way a man makes his twin flame happy.” explains Trayvon. “And people don’t see that you’re practically dying in those moments because you tried too hard to be tough, man. They don’t see your pain. …I do. Lacey does. But most people don’t see it because you hid it too much.”

“It’s like when I ate slugs.” says a kid who died of eating slugs. “You were eating slugs every second in this photo.”

Ashes To Ashes by Warpaint plays.

“It was far worse than that. But I thought it was like eating tree bark to survive. …I may have had relatives who did that to survive when they first got here.” says Lem.

“That’s not true!!” says JFK. “You were in love with me.” He sighs like a woman. Literally stealing Lacey’s voice. “Oh! Oh no! I’m on my period.” He rushes off to let his penis bleed for eight days in the bathroom. But he has no womb.

The Nennedy girls shake their tits at demons ti try to arouse them. But they, of course don’t succeed and are genuinely shocked when a demon explains that they look like the creature on the cover of Elmer’s Glue bottles

“Why were you always hunching over?” a person asks Kick Nennedy (formally Kennedy).

“It looked so playful and cute! And humble.” she says. “But I was also very slightly deformed and I covered up for it that way.”

“Is that why you didn’t have sex before then?” someone asks Kick.

“Before marriage?” asks Rose, her mother.

Kick looks narcissistically devastated. She cries enormous tears. Looks profoundly hurt.

Leland by Cemeteries plays.

“It was like eating tree bark in my imagination. But…in reality it was infinitely worse.” says Lem. “It was like eating pieces of Hell. It was…potential annihilation of humanity.”

“Damn!! Jack…what did it feel like to experience Lacey’s happiness?” asks a woman of Jack. In 2023 in our reality. She laughs.

“It’s mine. My life!” says Jack grinning as he pees blood into a toilet. A constant stream. For no purpose.

“Do you die from that?” asks a dead drug addict of Jack.

The Rockefeller’s pose for a family photo as Different Heart plays. They smile lovingly, sincerely, victoriously.

The British apologize in heartbreak for being obnoxiously right far too often? Obnoxiously correct too…

“Did Queen Elizabeth II warn Lacey to choose Michael?” someone asks.

Michael suddenly cries. Has to leave the photo. Steps aside.

And Maggie Kennedy weeps Jack Kennedy’s tears. His tears. Michael weeps his own. But Maggie weeps Jack’s tears.

“Jack that sadness looks so delightful!” says Lacey. “Like a bitter, biting glass of gin.”

But instead he laughs her laughs as he stands still peeing blood. He scoffs Lem’s scoffs and Lem experiences it. It comes close to annihilating Lem but Lem doesn’t cease to exist as God and Lacey and his family love him. Of course all he needed was for God to love him.

Herds of gay men drop their pants and ask for anal sex as they shake their asses. Jack dances over the toilet in glee like a demon in ecstasy. He can’t stop laughing. It’s all so hilarious to him.

Pedophiles watch in appalled shock. They can’t fathom that he’s…doing this. They can’t fathom how he could be so stupid.

“Your father. Not you.” Michael says Bobby Kennedy Jr.. “Your father should have been US President. Not you.”

Rose is forced into the bathroom with Jack. Jack and Rose Kennedy dance. They dance in synch to Different Heart.

“Hey! You wanna fuck, Rose?!? I’ve been calculating it for years!” says JFK to his mother. She grins.

“You wanna fuck?!” she asks.

“Yeah, you wanna fuck?” he asks.

The pedophiles in the Illuminati sense trouble. They choose to just stay silent. Observe condescendingly.

“I’m a pedophile mom, just like you and dad.” says JFK to his mom. “Isn’t it about time we fucked?”

She looks confused.

“Mom!!! Don’t you want the wood?” he asks. “Hey look! It’s a floater!” he says pointing to a poop he created that floats in the in the toilet.

“I’m not Jack.” she says.

“Mom…I think you resist too much.” he says.

They stand staring at each other. Stupidly.

Different Heart ends.

“I’m not going anywhere.” he says to her.

She just stands and stares at him blankly.

“Mom!! Look! I stole Lacey’s soul.” he says like a righteous, courageous lover.

“You only did that for yourself.” she says smiling. She giggles self-righteously in the style of Eleanor Roosevelt.

“Aren’t you attracted to me?!” asks President JFK of his mom as he pees into a toilet to try to be Lem’s twin flame.

“You’re in love with Lem.” says a psychologist from 2023 to Jack.

“No I’m not!!!” he says.

“No, he’s not.” says Joe Jr..

“No, I’m not.” says Kick. “I mean, no he’s not.”

“No, he’s never been in love with Lem.” says Eunice trying to imitate a Nesheim with their occasional real righteousness.

“See! I’m only in love with you.” says JFK to his mom sincerely. Sweetly. Then his eyes go numb and colorless. His teeth rot and fall out. His body goes into full ghoul mode. He quickly flashes back and looks at her in tears.

She stares at him blankly and shrugs. Then, “Yup. You’re as worthless and psychopathic as me.” she says. “We’re like human worms. But…you’re my son.” She laughs stupidly.

The Theory Of Everything by Johann Jóhannsson plays.

“I didn’t realize we were such street trash, mom.” says JFK.

“Ha!!” she says like a gutter snake woman in London or Dublin in the 1800’s.

“Say mom, we’re special.” she says.

Kick accidentally kills Maeve by rowing a boat out to shore in Purgatory to avoid going to Hell after JFK tries to take a moment to attack Lacey’s daughter and also apologize. The Americans focus on the apology and the English focus on the attack on a child.

“I ate slugs because…my ancestors from the Mayflower ate tree bark.” Lem explains to the British aristocracy. “I’m not sure why…it’s so bad.”

“You ate slugs. Not tree bark.” say the British aristocrats to Lem.

Drive by Warpaint plays.

His mind goes numb. Kick gets angry that he’s in love with Lacey.

“Side by side, who’s actually prettier? Me or her?” she asks looking at the real Lacey. At 25.

She can’t psychologically handle it to the point that she goes temporarily practically braindead.

“I’m ugly. Like…hideous.” Kick says.

“Don’t say that, Lacey!” says Jonah Wiley at 5 Fitz 8 inches. He’s incapable in 2023 of assuming it’s Kick who is saying she’s ugly.

“Really, you think I’m pretty?!” asks Kick of Jonah.

“I’d fuck you.” he says with certainty.

Kick goes into shock. “You would?!”

“We’re not that great looking.” Jonah says sadly. Formally Summertime.

“No, you’re hot!!” Kick says.

“You’re not.” says Jonah.

“Really?” she asks.

“No. You’re kind of hideous. But…maybe if you stopped grinning like an idiot all the time you’d look better. You have a gross mouth.” he says. “And you don’t look entirely feminine.”

She relaxes her face. Looks at him normally.

“You look a lot prettier when you’re not smiling. But…that makes sense. Evolutionary-wise. You’d be smiling that much in impoverished Ireland in private.” he says. “And in America we made it wholesome to have to worship your ugly smiles.”

“And the men still look handsome so the women still find them attractive. So their people don’t go extinct.” says Joe Sr.. “Or possibly for other sad reasons.”

“Dad…there are pretty Irish women!” says Joe Jr.. “Just not in our family.”

“I can’t stand when you say that.” says Joe Sr. losing control of his mind. He looks in the mirror. “Am I ugly??”

“No! But you were a little short and there were other flaws.” says Lacey.

“So, Jonah…you find me attractive enough to date?” asks Kick.

“Yes!” he says.

“That’s hopeful.” says Lacey.

“It is.” says Kick.

“We are short though.” he says.

“I don’t care.” says Kick. “Not really, anyway.”

“I could actually fall in love with you.” says Joan to Kick in shock.

“But you’d never think I was as pretty as Lacey. Would you?” she asks.

“That’s an insane question!” he says.

“Really?” she asks.

“YEAH!” he says.

“But then how would I keep you faithful?” she asks. “Brits only love money and country. That’s why I married them. I thought it was…reasonable.”

“That’s not true.” says Jonah. “But regardless, from love and Christianity.”

“No!” she says. “You’re not a Christian. Are you?”

“Why?” he asks.

“I’m in rebellion against Christianity in Purgatory.” she says seriously.

“Are you a demon or a human?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” she says. “Or do I?”

“You’re possibly a ghost.” says Jonah.

“Then you’ll cheat!!” she yells.

“No!!” he says.

“You’ll cheat!!” she yells.

“No!!” he yells.

“Then I’ll cheat or be evil.” she says.

“I’ll rip your head off.” he says.

“Yeah. That’s logical. I could do that too.” she says. She smiles.

“See! It’ll be fine!” says Jonah to Kick.

“And you really think I’m pretty?” she asks in vanity.

“Mmm…slightly.” he says shrugging.

She nods. “Okay.”

And Jack pees blood as Rose stands and watches.

Drive by Warpaint plays.

After hours of conversation Lacey is suspicious. She’s suspicious that if she’s a British aristocrat reincarnated she’s winking at the Kennedy’s.


Because seemingly the Irish are genetically INFERIOR to the British. They REALLY are an inferior race. IN REALITY.

And they’re safe…as long as you don’t treat them like they’re serious. Because their minds are too weak often to function like most other, if not possibly all other races. They are the absolute SCUM of the Earth when they are indulged in as being as honorable as most other races if not all other races. They have a tendency towards meaningless vices, narcissism, and violent self pity. They’re almost never trustworthy or rational in a crisis. …Or…maybe they’re not always that bad…but…it’s a weaker race than most. Their redeeming quality is their good humor when not just narcissism cleverly concealed.

What is an Irish person though?!?!

“Frank McCourt did you want to fuck me when you saw me in person while you were alive or not?” asks Lacey.

“Yes.” he admits.

“That’s partially why I think this.” says Lacey.

“Why?” he asks glumly.

“Because you made me feel so hopeful.” says Lacey. “That you weren’t just another narcissistic asshole who thought a hot woman was fair game to sexually assault with naive idiotic male ego.”

He dances with Bobby Jr. like zombie bubble beaches. …When Irish men get married and steal their wife’s heart with their charm…they then get an ego boost from cheating. At the worst and most sneaky moment available. They are a misogynistic race. They hate women but they also think their women are better than all other women. And they tend towards shallow observations about humanity that have no real relevance in any thoughtful or important conversation about anything of value to humanity.

Or no?

Because that’s the tragically scientific observation they’ve basically brutally forced me into believing could be objective truth.

I don’t want to think this.

“They’re like a cheap knock-off version of the English.” says a woman who’s possibly been talking to Lacey her whole life.

“No!! That’s not true! That’s not true at all!” Lacey used to say repeatedly, emphatically. But now what?

“All men cheat!” said Jackie Kennedy who was Irish. And that’s not true. It’s a sick, twisted lie.

“What would a native French woman like you be doing getting married?” asks Lacey. “Aren’t you too sexy and sad to do that bullshit bourgeois thingy?”

“I’m different. When I get married…” she says but isn’t intelligent enough to finish the thought.

“Yes?” asks Lacey.

“I’m a butterfly.” she says in her head.

“You’re a butterfly?!” says Lacey.

“Yeah!! I’m a butterfly. And when I fly off I’ll be pretty and loved.” she says.

“Why?” asks Lacey.

“Because that’s the way it goes in America!” she says. “It’s our code of ethics.”

“That’s a lie.” says Lacey.

She looks overwrought.

“Okay, fine!” she says to Lacey like Lacey is a mean, ugly, stupid and hideous man.

Ashes To Ashes by Warpaint plays.

“Let’s attack the Jews!” says an Irish woman who fancies herself as a sassy cool-kid.

“Why?” asks Lacey.

“Because I feel like the Palestinians could easily be my best friends forever!” says the Irish woman.

“Oh really?” asks Lacey.

“They’re inferior like me…but uglier…” she says honestly.

Despite their RAGE against the English for their seeming racism against them they have a possibly noticeable tendency towards racism themselves. They have a noted history of hating blacks and especially hating Jews.

“Well…Bobby Kennedy Jr. hates Bill Gates.” says a man. “He’s not black or Jewish.”

“True. But he’s possibly English.” says Lacey. “And Irish. So it works…”

“They do kill themselves.” says an Irish man.

“But Irish children alive today are possibly exempt.” says Lacey. “Because if I’m reincarnated they should be exempt according to me.” She thinks. “And by today I mean any child under age 16 alive today.”

“So Maeve killed Gideon?” asks a Kennedy.

“Of course she did. Even if it was an accident. It’s her job to never make that serious of a mistake.” says a German woman. “It’s like criminal negligence?”

“It’s possible it was an accident…but you don’t take a child out in the ocean in a tiny boat.” says Lacey. “And was she drunk? And if so her son certainly wasn’t. Was he babysitting her and she was too bossy and difficult to manage while drunk?”

But what does it mean to be Irish?

The Irish are a genetically complex race. They aren’t just one group of people. So if they are inferior which group is to blame?

The dark ones? The red ones? The blond ones? Those are all different groups of people anthropologically speaking. And…yes…race matters. The New System of the last ten years or so will have you brainwashed into thinking that gender doesn’t matter…and that race is scientifically insignificant. But I highly doubt it.

Was it…a Germanic tribe that did it?


Was it an Ashkenazi tribe…minus the Jewish genes…that did it?

Like…some white Germanic tribe that tended to marry Jews…but in this case wandered West and ruined Ireland?

Was it that combined with Viking invasions that genetically pushed them over the edge?

“Haha! You’re funny!” says a blond Irish man with a sweet yet strong temperament. In the ancient days.

And at that the Germanic asshole takes advantage of his good humor and rapes him. Steals his wife and his land.

Then later…a Viking comes and kills the Germanic man. Steals the wife again and takes her back to Norway but leaves the kids and one pregnant woman behind.

“Kiss me! I’m Irish!” says a Japanese man on St. Patrick’s Day.

“Well…I’m doubtful you’re Irish…but…do the Irish even exist?” asks Lacey.

“What?” asks an Irish woman.

“They’re such a combination of so many groups more than most cultures?” wonders Lacey. “Maybe they’re be better off identifying as Gaelic. Or Celtic. If an Irish person even is.”

“So what if you weren’t reincarnated?” asks Jim Dangle.

“These are still vague observations I’ve made.” says Lacey. “And children are always exempt, of course.”

“I don’t think they’re that bad!” says JFK.

“Oh really?” asks Lacey. “In Heaven I’m sure all our inadequacies are fixed regardless.”

“I’m not sure what to say.” he says.

“Okay! Goodbye!” she says to him lovingly.

Can the Irish not get angry at Lacey and defend themselves to her and Lem? Can they not make their innocent children suffer for her insult based on possible fact.

Can you believe it’s a bad idea to punch Lacey in the face and then try to kill her kids to feel superior…and then not expect her to defend them? Without making her a Scottish aristocrat reincarnated?

“If I’m ursine…and she’s my wife…what does that make her?” jokes Lem. “An angry mother bear. Right?! Hahahaha.” He looks serious suddenly.

“You wanna challenge my right to exist? Watch me explain why you shouldn’t ask that of an innocent person.” says Lacey.

Love & Hate by Michael Kiwanuka plays.

“But reincarnation only exists of its in Christianity. Was it hidden by the Illuminati to unify their power around the world? It’s a common theme in many major world religions except for Christianity and possibly Islam. So…it might not exist…but if it does then perhaps we did it?” wonders Michael Rockefeller.

“Yes! But does the Illuminati exist?” asks Lacey.

“We’re ghosts.” says Lem. “And it’s time for sleep.”

“Goodnight you two.” says Michael kindly.

“Sorry Irish. I hope I’m wrong about you.” says Lacey.