Turns out the Illuminati today wears diapers.

Videotape by Radiohead plays.

Why? Why do they all wear diapers? Because their brains are so regressed due to their embrace of evil that they now all poop their pants.

“Well holy shit!” says The Loudest Perfume Hater with joking reverence.

Soft by Washed Out plays.

A an adult woman named Taylor dances with her puffy diaper filled with diarrhea. She has horrible acne. And BOTH the diarrhea and acne are actually…caused…by her work schedule as managed by her bourgeois self.

“I’m better than most people.” she truly believes, unfortunately because it’s untrue. Untrue. The premise is a bourgeois bullshit routine promulgated in America. No one is actually better than another human. Because we’re all human. And God died for all of humanity. He didn’t die for this hateful, vengeful, venomous, JEALOUS, mildly ugly (objectively) bitch named Taylor more than any other human.

“Haha! Bullshit!” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“What’s bullshit?” asks Michael of The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Your anger at Taylor Swift is just jealousy because she’s spuriously a descendant of Jonathan Swift.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater. “Or did she decide to not sleep with you Michael when Lacey fucked Lem Billings again last night instead of you?!”

“Did you read the part about how the entire Illuminati wears diapers? Literally!“ says Michael to The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“So what Michael!” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“So what?!?” asks Elliott Roosevelt of the Loudest Perfume Hater.

The Loudest Perfume Hater doesn’t want to fathom a huge group of super elite people in a cult who have a brain disorder due to excessive telepathy that forces them to wear diapers due to incontinence issues.

“Okay! Fine! Maybe Taylor Swift is a little weird. But do have to be so mean to her?!” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Are you a fan of Taylor Swift the singer?” asks Lacey.

“Isn’t that who we’re talking about?!” The Loudest Perfume Hater asks Lacey, Michael and Elliott.

“Hmm. Interesting.” says Lacey.

“So…you didn’t try to sleep with her last night?” asks The Queen Mother of Russia out of concern for Michael Rockefeller, son of Nelson Rockefeller and grandson of J. D. Rockefeller.

“No!” says Michael. “That little girl looking woman Taylor the dancer is creepy.”

“Creepy?” asks an Illuminati woman on a run to the grocery store.

“Yes! Creepy!” says Michael.

“GAME! SET! MATCH!” says Lacey sarcastically in a silly, faux British accent.

“She is HIDEOUS looking.” says Elliott Roosevelt of Taylor Swift the famous pop star.

“You know, she does try to look old-fashioned though with her ridiculous red lipstick that looks…pretentiously sexual.” says Lacey. “Actually a lot of her aesthetic is sexually pretentious. Is she actually asexual?” Lacey thinks. “Not aromantic but asexual?”

“Like, not psychologically capable of having any form of intercourse but capable of falling in love?” asks Elliott Roosevelt.

“Yes.” says Lacey.

“The evidence watching her and listening to her points to yes. But the evidence…is only heresay.” says Michael. “So to speak.”

“I hope she’s not just another Illuminati pedophile.” says Lacey.

“Do they wear diapers to seem like children for their perverted purposes?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“No! They rarely make intellectual connections like that in my observations of them.” says Lacey.

“Really?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Yes! Really! …That’s the shitshow the Illuminati has forced Lacey to struggle to grasp for the last seven years.” says Elliott Roosevelt.

The Loudest Perfume Hater tries not to smile.

“I hate Lacey’s unusual intelligence.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater. “What does her voice sound like when she’s being herself, out of curiosity?” She giggles. “I sound ugly but it’s a more normal sounding voice.”

“She’s one of the most physically beautiful women in history. Literally.” says Louis Hill Jr. about Lacey. He’s being scientifically accurate and honest as a Christian.

“I had a weird voice too.” says Lem Billings smiling about Lacey.

“That’s weird!” says JFK. “And you wanna know why?!?” asks Jack Kennedy.

“Yeah. Please! Do tell!” says The Loudest Perfume Hater to JFK.

“His voice was sexy with Lacey! He sounds dark, mysterious and masculine and raspy with Lacey!” says JFK. “When they have sex.” he says to be more clear and obvious in case The Loudest Perfume Hater doesn’t understand. “And she sounds like a darker, old money, aristocratic version of Marilyn Monroe. Literally.”

“Her voice sounds like Marilyn Monroe?!?” asks a Taylor in genuine shock and dismay.

“Wait! Wait! Hold-up!” says a black rapper in the Illuminati who refuses to wear diapers. He’s personally in rebellion against them. Because he’s black and angry and proud of it. “She literally sounds like Marilyn?” he teases JFK.

“Yes.” says JFK about Lacey.

“Dude! Why did you sleep with Lacey when she was 15? Or at least try to.” asks the rapper.

“Why wouldn’t I?” asks JFK, confused.

“So she genuinely has a voice that’s almost identical to Marilyn Monroe but the truly innocent, old money version?” asks a Boomer actress about Lacey.

“Yes! It’s not something almost anyone but Lem is ever allowed to hear.” says Elliott. “She’s never spoken using her real voice to any woman.”

“Oh! So you sound like…literally…like Marilyn Monroe?!” The Loudest Perfume Hater asks Lacey.

“When I let myself use my real voice. Yes. But it’s so creepy I constantly hide it.” says Lacey.

“Yes! Yes! So I did find a Marilyn Monroe who looks like a 1920’s supermodel.” says Michael Rockefeller. “Because I know what you’re all thinking! You’re thinking I had a crush on Marilyn Monroe but Lacey is the aristocratic version of her.”

“So you’re hiding a super breathy, but still aristocratic voice that…is…like Marilyn’s body…but 1920’s old money?” asks The Loudest Perfume of Lacey.

“Yes! I always fastidiously alter my voice.” says Lacey.

“Does her voice sound less sexy and scary with a British accent?” wonders an Englishwoman.

“Yes!” says Lem. “And no.”

“Why don’t you let people hear your real voice?” the perfume community asks Lacey.

“Are we trying to start the American Revolution again?” the Founding Father’s asks the Illuminati. “Be careful.”

“It’s… It sounds far too sexual.” says Lacey. “And my father’s generation’s voices weren’t there for me growing-up so I never figured out how to modify it correctly.”

“Oh my god!!! I can imagine your real voice! It’s creepy!” says a Susanne in the perfume community genuinely freaking-out. She calms herself. “You sound like a literal ghost.”

“That’s also my fear. Now, anyway. It’s both too sexual and too…frightening.”says Lacey.

The Illuminati snickers.

“Thing is…she’s still only 39.” says a Bill Gates.

“So what does that mean Billy?” asks Michael Rockefeller. “It means she’s too pretty and sexual for your physical caste?”

“I’ve tried to sleep with her.” says Billy.

“Do you hate her or not?” asks Michael.

“I feel seduced. But…as much as it scares me in the most intoxicating way…she’s never let me fall.” he says smiling. “And…maybe a part of me likes…a simpler, more ordinary woman.”

“That’s not hate.” says Michael. “So you find her attractive but not…for you?”

Howling At The Moon by Phantogram plays.

“I’d like to trust you. …Truly. I like you as a person. But I don’t…quite…trust you.” says Michael Rockefeller to the actual Bill Gayes.

Billy realizes he looks a lot like Micheal Rockefeller. He laughs.

“So…you’re constantly faking your voice?!?” asks Gen Z of Lacey.

“So did I!” says Jackie Kennedy in defense of Lacey. “It was a typical thing to do.”

“Lacey…who do you find more attractive?!? Jack Kennedy or Michael Rockefeller?” asks Wobbly.

Lacey thinks. “You know…it’s weird!” says Lacey. “Jack is actually more attractive in a way…but…I find Michael more attractive to me.” says Lacey thoughtfully and without sexual tension for Wobbly.

“What do you think of my grandfather?!” he asks. He shoves a photo of his grandfather at 60-something at Lacey.

“He’s very attractive to me.” says Lacey. “Almost embarrassingly so. Because I shouldn’t find him attractive.” She thinks. “He’s so…nerdy.”

Wobbly laughs at her.

She looks at him like he’s deranged.

Then he stops laughing and gets creeped-out.

“You don’t have to find my grandfather attractive.” he says.

“Well what did the rest of your family look like?” asks Lacey.

He shows her a photo of the whole family.

“Who’s that?” she asks of Joe Jr..

He looks scared. Tentative. Anxious.

“He’s my uncle Joe. He died in World War II.” he says.

“He’s extremely handsome!” says Lacey.

“Lem thinks your pretty.” he says awkwardly.

Lacey decides to change the topic back to Joe. “Did Joe ever marry?” she asks cheerfully and hopefully.

“No! He was…dull I guess.” he says.

He was dull?!?” asks Lacey in protest.

“No.” he laughs. “He was just Catholic.” he says.

“Oh, I bet he had lots of girlfriends.” says Lacey.

He grows awkward.

“When did he die?” Lacey asks.

“In the war?” asks Wobbly.

“Yes!” says Lacey.

“1944 or 45?” he says.

“So the end of the war?” asks Lacey.

“Yes!” he says sounding a bit uppity, suddenly.

“Was he involved in some special mission?” asks Lacey.

“Yes!” he says looking at her weirdly.

“That’s so cool!” says Lacey in admiration.

“Yeah. Whatever. He was great!” he says with an almost confrontational voice.

Lacey thinks. “You were a big fan of your grandfather weren’t you?” asks Lacey.

He looks creeped-out and stares at her.

“He’s dead!” he says oddly, in anger.

“That’s true.” says Lacey, confused.

“Why are you so obsessed with my family?” asks Wobbly.

“You sound insane. Not me. You just shoved photos in my face and brought these people up.” says Lacey. “Not me!”

“I’m not my grandfather!” he says with fear, looking at her funny.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?!? I KNOW THAT!” yells Lacey.

He closes his eyes and looks sad. Almost cries.

“Why are you impersonating my family?” he asks.

She calms herself. “How was that an impersonation of your whole family?”

“Oh god!” he says weirdly. “You’re my dad!”

“How could I be your dad?!” asks Lacey calmly.

“You sound just like my dad!” he says.

“I’ve never met your father in person. I’m not your father reincarnated or otherwise.” says Lacey and then she thinks. “I suppose I could be aware of them as ghosts? I’ve heard a few of his speeches.”

“His speeches! You heard his speeches?” he asks smiling.

“Well…at least one of them.” says Lacey.

“Hey that’s okay.” he says condescendingly.

“Of course it’s okay. We all heard his speeches. What’s wrong with you?!?” she asks hiding fear. “You genuinely think I’m OBSESSED with your family?!?” She controls her rage. “You’re a conceited, vain weirdo!” she says bitingly. Then she backs-up a bit, “I’m dating Lem! I don’t give two shits about the age difference. Get over it! He loves me and I passionately love him. GROW-UP!!” she yells. “And by the way…if you mean any harm…any real careful not to do too much heroin…if you know what I mean.” she says winking at him. Then she leaves.

He stands in his family’s parlor. By the fireplace. In shock.

“Lem…is straight. And I’m losing my family.” he says, finally sitting on the sofa.


“You do sound like JFK.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater to Lacey.

“No! You can read it that way, but that’s not the way I said it!” she says haughtily in the style of Bette Davis.

“Umm…yeah…but like…you don’t sound so masculine.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater to Lacey.

“You’re right. But that’s my way of relating. That’s what you’re demanded to do nowadays.” she says in a righteous huff.

“You cannot be serious.” she says weirdly.

“What?” asks Lacey in hidden fear and rage.

“You’re creepy!” she says with venom.

Lacey looks confused and exasperated. “What in the world did you think I was saying before?! Do you think I just babble and say cute nonsense you pretentious, vain jerk?”

“Do I seem masculine to you?” she asks frankly and seriously.

Lacey feels enormously disturbed but hides it. “Yes!” she replies with similar bluntness and tranquility. “You’re seemingly a cis woman. But you do seem masculine to me. Not…in an ugly way necessarily. But more masculine than women seemed in the past. And…actually most women in our generation do. I’ve noticed it for years but I don’t like to think about it. It’s weird.”

“Hmm. Do you really think I’m cis?” she asks.

“Hmm. Are you worried you’re slightly non-binary?” asks Lacey.

“I think…I do. But…like…are there just two genders and some people are different and some people are nonbinary?” she asks.

“Yeah! I’ve wondered that too!” says Lacey.

“Do you think you’re nonbinary?” she asks.

Lacey loses patience. “My goodness you do try to be terrifying don’t you. Wow! I’m scared.” Lacey says sarcastically. “Let me think! I’ve never done that before. Thanks for inviting me to.”

The Loudest Perfume Hater laughs.

“No. I’m not. Do you understand?” Lacey asks.

“Umm. You’re bisexual!” she says.

“No. That’s not the right answer. Try again.” says Lacey seriously.

Hate It Or Love It 50 Cent plays.

“You’re nonbinary!” she says laughing.

“Are you trying to impersonate a narcissist? And if so is it because you’re a clinical narcissist and you’ve undergone countless hours of counseling…or is it because you’re hurtfully accusing me of just being a liar and narcissist?” asks Lacey. She’s wanted to ask this for years.

“I thought you were a real narcissist.” she says falling apart.

“I’m not non-binary. I did consider if I could be a trans woman. I am a woman by all medical standards. But if I’m slightly masculine in some way I could be more feminine than I biologically am even now. But…no. Maybe I’m more feminine than I realize. So perhaps I’m just entirely cis. …See…I have old genes. Remember? …And I do alter my voice to seem less breathy and feminine and I do that with everything else to hide my femininity.” She thinks. “I’m not hiding anything sexually other than repressed heterosexuality and cis-genderedness.”

“Okay?!? Why do I care?!??” she asks in self-righteous indignation. Then she laughs at Lacey.

“What?” asks Lacey.

She looks at Lacey like she’s watching The Shining. Her mouth drops open slightly.

“What?!?” asks Lacey politely again.

“Are you a narcissist?” she asks coolly.

Lacey thinks. “Oh right! That’s also what we were discussing. No. Why did you think I was one?” asks Lacey.

The Loudest Perfume Hater has to fight not to laugh. “You seem pretentious.” she says with righteous indignation.

“What do you mean by pretentious?” asks Lacey.

“Umm. Okay maybe not pretentious.” she says nodding her head like she’s leading Lacey to say something.

“Then what?” asks Lacey keeping her calm.

“Like a bitch!” she spits in anger.

Lacey holds back laughter. She forces herself not to be patronizing. “How do I seem like a bitch?”

She looks vile. Then she thinks. “Yeah, you’re a nerd!” she says with disdain.

Lacey feels as though she’s being attacked but then she can’t quite place how fast enough for her own patience, “Yes!” Lacey answers scientifically but naturally.

“You’re in a higher class than me.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater. Then horrified. “And you’re smarter than me.”

“Yes! Yes, those are both true. Why do you care so much?” asks Lacey.

She almost cries. “Are you a nerd?”

“No. …Not really. But I am in a way. …Like…was Hedy Lamarr a nerd? Is Michael a nerd? Yes. And no. Same for Lem.” says Lacey. “Although Hedy Lamarr seems narcissistic too.”

“Who else was a nerd in your generation?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“There were probably lots of people who were nerds. …That’s an interesting observation. Of course, that’s assuming I’m in the Greatest Generation. And on that premise…one’s brain wonders if the word nerd is actually a 1980’s insult not to smart people in some perfectly categorized way but a way of insulting those who were too…conformist with their parents generation. So…perhaps both a combination of smarts…pseudo-intelligence and…old-fashioned lifestyles.” says Lacey.

“You’re not that smart.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“What is the premise of your accusation?” asks Lacey.

“Okay. So you just are this way?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“What way?!” asks Lacey in exasperation to the point of rage, but hiding it.

“You’re not narcissistic.” she says laughing.

“Okay! You drive me crazy the way you jump around from one point of reasoning to another with such arrogance, intellectual conceit and painful disorder.” says Lacey. “You do tend to share points of information that aren’t relevant often in conversations with me.”

Lacey gets distracted.

“Are you still there?” asks Lacey of The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Yes!! I’m obsessed with you.” she says seething.

“Right.” says Lacey with concern. “No, I’m not a narcissist.” Lacey collects herself. “The thing is, you shouldn’t diagnose people as narcissists with such certainty without the proper diagnostic criteria. Criteria I doubt you’ve ever bothered to deign to read in your enormous arrogance.” Lacey cries inside in sheer terror but pretends to seethe but be hiding it. “You are smart.” Lacey thinks. “But just because someone is superior to you…doesn’t mean they aren’t superior to you. Does that make sense or make your brain explode?”

“Okay. So you’re superior to me.” she says.

“Based on hierarchies of humanity including Christianity and genetic character. You have possibly nothing to brag to me about. But that’s all you live for? Right? To harass people?” asks Lacey. “And what? You all lost your shit because you were ASTRONOMICALLY impressed by me but too EXCRUCIATINGLY stupid to functionally process that…as humans in the perfume community?” asks Lacey.

“That’s true.” she says.

“So what’s the problem? Why can’t you grapple with and finally kill the beast if you’ve at least partially processed this?” asks Lacey.

“Oh my gosh! You-“. Then she closes her eyes. “Why do you love me?”

“Love you in what way?” asks Lacey.

“So…you’re just…loving?” she asks like a demon.

“Yes! Isn’t that obvious?” asks Lacey.

“You harass me!” she says.

“You harassed and harass me.” says Lacey.

“So I imagined you found me attractive? And I imagined your interest in friendship with me?” she asks

“Yes! Except that’s crude. I don’t have any romantic or sexual interest in you. True. But…I didn’t necessarily not want friendship. Just…not a deep friendship necessarily.” says Lacey.

“So what? Like…random comments and then nothing for the rest of our lives?” she asks indignantly.

“What else? That’s what’s normal. How do you not know that?” asks Lacey.

She slowly realizes the heat she feels coming from Lacey is real. Not sexual.

“Why are you angry?” she asks.

“Why are you so…obnoxious?” ask Lacey.

“So I’m genuinely aggravating to you just as a person?” she asks.

“Isn’t that obvious?” asks Lacey.

“Okay. So I’m just fascinated by you.” says The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Yes. Why did you turn it into such a big deal?” asks Lacey. “It wasn’t mutual if it was romantic or sexual for you. And honestly…if we don’t get along well…maybe a friendship was only going to be…superficial.” She thinks. “Like…not meaningless friendship but not a friendship in the traditional person to person sense.” Lacey thinks. “I wonder. Were you just a very desperately lonely person and you took Instagram too seriously and intensely.”

“I’m not necessarily normal.” she says.

“Answer my question.” Lacey says.

“Yes!” she admits.

“Right! And maybe I just am a nice person who was kind to you and you tried to make it a million things it wasn’t.” says Lacey.

“Do you find me weird?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“I think you want an emotional response from me. Because you want my attention. And I’m not all that interested in you in that way.” says Lacey kindly.

“So I’m a female creeper? And that’s all I ever was?” she asks Lacey.

“Yes! But it is sad as one human to another that you were so lonely. Perhaps…you should find someone like me who’s attracted to you. There’s gotta be someone else. Who’s even better. Like…a million times better.

“Am I too evil to be happy?” asks The Loudest Perfume Hater.

“Maybe. But if you ask God for salvation maybe you can go to Heaven and be happy?” asks Lacey.

“Yeah.” she says casually.

“Okay. So, I’ll pray for you. And I mea that kindly.” says Lacey.


“So we bet the entire sex trafficking trade on Lacey being a pedophile. But…she isn’t one and instead she’s just better than most of us too genetically. And given our tendency in the Illuminati towards malignant narcissism…we assumed a historically significant gangster’s daughter who…has married Michael Rockefeller or Lem Billings…or Elliott Roosevelt…or I dunno…Harold Loeb…is…too beautiful to be real. Because we just saw her oil family and her superiority and decided she couldn’t be normal. …She doesn’t look evil really but we…can’t handle her beauty. Like…we can’t psychologically process it.” says an Illuminati woman. “And no! I don’t wear diapers!”

“Or do you?” asks Lacey.

“It’s…not…like that.” says the Illuminati woman.

“What’s it like then?” asks Lacey.

“It’s…we…wear normal underwear.” says the Illuminati woman.

“Why?” asks Lacey.

“Because that’s what normal people do.” says the Illuminati woman.

“That’s what normal people do?” asks Michael Rockefeller.

“I’m not normal.” says the Illuminati woman.

“You’re not?” asks Lacey.

“No. We do wear underwear though.” she says.

“Why?” asks Lacey.

“Because that’s what everybody does.” she says.

“No they don’t.” says Lacey.

“Yes! They do?” she responds.

“No, that’s illogical.” says Lacey.

“Okay. What’s your point?” she asks.

“Why don’t you wear diapers and poop?” asks Lacey. “Wouldn’t that fit with the whole Illuminati aesthetic more? I mean…get with the times. Catch-up. Don’t get left behind.”

“That’s the newest thing?” she asks Lacey.

“Yes!” says Lacey. “Didn’t you read the beginning of this post?” asks Lacey.

“Yeah! So?!” she asks.

“So it’s the way to behave.” says Lacey.

“Why?” she asks in fear.

“If you intend to molest a child or profit off of it without being willing to personally go into literal person to person battle in war…you…must wear diapers and get a urinary tract infection by never changing them every two weeks. No antibiotics until you die. Like…you wear the shitty diaper until you die. Like you wear the adult diaper with you own feces and pee in it until you get a urinary tract infection. And then even if your body recovers from the deadly kidney disease own it’s own…you have to get another urinary tract infection until you die. Literally. And no, you can never be given any antibiotics for it.” She thinks. “You just…die.” She thinks. “And of course that’s if you intend to. You never actually get to. No children are allowed to be molested in or by any connection with the Illuminati or abused. Unless…said individuals are looking to die of a brutal kidney infection in their own homes.” She thinks. “The funny thing is…they just have to have true intent in the eyes of God. As defined by me.” She thinks. “Or maybe they’ll all just start dying of brain aneurysms? I haven’t decided yet.”

“Why is the new thing?“ asks the Illuminati woman.

“Because you all decided it?” asks Lacey.

“But they can’t stop their instincts to molest kids?” asks the Illuminati woman.

“Why is that a child’s problem? And honestly, how are they not a criminal threat to not only children but themselves? See in the old days they might have been in a criminally insane asylum but they got rid of those.” says Lacey.

“True.” she says.

“Nowadays they should just die, if they’re a threat.” says Lacey. “Unless Jesus thinks otherwise.”

“So unless Jesus Christ decides otherwise…we’re going to all die?” asks a violent criminal pedophile in the Illuminati.

“Yes!” says Lacey.

“Why would you think I’m in that crowd?” asks the Illuminati woman.

“You’ve indicated that.” says Lacey.

“Okay. So if I keep profiting off it and I’m not willing to go into armed combat to protect the kids…then I might die?” asks the Illuminati woman.

“Yes! But not like…at 50 of old age. Or at 75 of a stroke die. Die at any given moment in the next few seconds or hours die.” says Lacey. “Or next few months or years die.”

“Like of a brain aneurysm or a Kidney infection?” she asks.

“Yes! Because, Lord willing, the pedophilic thoughts that lead to completion of the act will cause either organ failure or brain aneurysms.” says Lacey. “I pray that God gives them all their last rites the instant I write this.”

Lux Aeterna by Clint Mansell & Kronos Quartet plays.

“I’m not wearing adult diapers. I’m wearing underwear.” says the Illuminati woman.

“Fine. It better be out of innocence.” says Lacey.

“What if it doesn’t work?” asks a violent pedophile in the Illuminati.

“Then there’s got to be some explanation. And honestly…if I exist…and I do…I’m not overly worried.” says Lacey.

Road To Perdition by Thomas Newman plays.

“Was Taylor Swift molested by her parents?” asks Michael Rockefeller.

“I hope not.” says Lacey.

“What if she was though?” asks Michael.

“And so…she’s wearing the adult diapers in the Illuminati should it exist…to stand in solidarity with the child hostage victims?” says Lacey. “Or to take the bullet with the deranged humans who might die because she feels empathy for them?”

“She’s deranged herself.” says an Illuminati witch.

“I hope not though.” says Lacey.

“Maybe she’s not. Maybe she’s stopped wearing them.” says Michael.

“Because she found out it wasn’t about being a closeted bisexual, symbolically?” asks Lacey.

“When did she find that out?” asks Lem.

“Today. Actually as I wrote the post.” says Lacey. “But…maybe she still does? Because didn’t they wear them for the purpose of catching stray poop that comes out due to brain dysfunction caused by excessive telepathy and and astral projection?” asks Lacey.

“Yes! That was the original cause.” says Michael laughing.

“Well…does she still struggle with telepathy-rot?” asks Lacey.

Lem laughs.

“I…suggested she consider not wearing them.” says her stylist. “But she doesn’t know how to stop talking in telepathy. She tends to love chatting with everyone at least once a day.”