Laddy Glue Gunk Recruits A Team of Ministers!

Laddy Glue-Gunk Recruits A Team of Ministers!
A short story by bitter and angry author Bernie N Helle
 In order to spread Laddy's Gospel, a chorus of tweens, teens, and mentally challenged adults were ordained by a professional marketing team and given rigid sermons to post all over internet message boards.  To honor those performers who dared to wear no pants, just like in the 1900s, 1910s, 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s, these ministers without education indoctrinated themselves with Laddy's 99 cent self-helpless mind-controlling Drummed and Based mix tapes.

These unpaid proselytizers could blend into society effortlessly, having no priestly collar or uniform to wear other than their inner need to be controlled by a singing and dancing corporate tool.  Invisible until confronted with substantiated facts regarding their Mixed-Gendered-Messiah's mediocrity, they started to infect culture with their chorus of excrement.  Laddy directed her mind-slave-cult to obscure the fact that what heshe was doing was simply new soon to be old person's music reinterpreted for the brand obsessed.

Laddy Glue-Gunk one day decided that any society that did not agree with heshe's inner perception of what a "free world" was, should be destroyed.  Following the example of famed Fascist dictator's, Glue-Gunk directed its' followers to dispense with grammar rules and only use UPPER CASE, as Laddy thought the sheer size of the fonts would distract from the lack of critical thought displayed in her brainwashed Ministers' online sermons. 

"All pants must be destroyed and the difference between pornography and art must be further obscured!" heshe bellowed.  Laddy smiled at the thought of giving free lobotomies to her Ministers as further insurance that this "normal and bad" world should be eliminated.  After all, my followers are drawn in by every meaningless grunt and polyester fiber I display, why shouldn't they be into having their actual brains removed?  Glue Gunk breathed an orgasmic sigh, triggered by the thought of barbecuing and eating hershim's Ministers' souls, and then the rest of the world's, just like a injurious and insidious perversion of America's Globalization efforts.

TO BE CONTINUED . . . 

A large portion of Justin Matthew Hoopes is Irish, Scottish, and English.

Some of the Irish Surnames I've found I am descended from on my personal ancestral journey of discovery include O'Connor, McCarthy, McCarty, Cox, Carrell, Lancaster, Dungan, Dugan, Donnegan, Mac Donnagain, Corryel, Keirll, Forster, Netterville, St. Lawrence, Hollywood (don't laugh, it's true!) Hungerford, Whyte, and many more I imagine . . .

The quintessentially English and Scottish surnames include my own surname Hoopes, Clarke, Travers, Weaver, Latham, Freeborn, Holbrook, Burnsworth, Dillworth, Grant, Stainhouse, Bruce, Thayer, Taylor, Mackins, Harman, King, Bane, Williamson, Cock (ha ha ha), Worrilow, Perkes, Grant, Harrison, Greasley, Worrilowe, Mercer, Scutt, Carter, Chapman and more. . .

On the Welsh side, I've found I'm descended from the following surnames: Foulke (Samuel Foulke disowned by the Quakers for being sympathetic to the American Revolutionary War), Hugh, Lloyd, Williams, Hughes, Evans, Reynolds, Griffith, David, Vychan, Rhys, Cadwallader, and more.    

I am a small person, descended from many families bearing the "small dark" (dark Irish and dark Welsh folk) look, yet I've taken on Swedish (Gustavssen/Claasen/Freeburg) facial features, which I imagine blends into the Viking invader blood that found its way into England.  Also, my German features blend into the Saxon genetics of England.  Complicating this is my connection to Spain, Portugal, and the Robertians.  Italian and Greek also?  Frankish for sure.  I find this muddle of genetic influences to be worthy of traveling through due to the amazing amount of historical data personally relevant to me at the moment.  How does it all add up to me?  That is the million dollar question.

Mackins From Scotland To Ireland To Deal, Lower Walmer, Kent To San Francisco To Eureka, CA

The Hoopes family brand of Mackins stem from a Scottish Presbyterian who was part of the constabulary in Northern Ireland. Evidently he married into the Irish society as there are numerous people with that surname there. So, from Northern Ireland to Kent where our earliest ancestor James Mackins settled and had a son named Walter Chapman Mackins who in turn had my Great-Grandfather Earnest S. Mackins and my Great Uncle Urban District Mackins! This information is courtesy of a cousin named James T Mackins, an actual distant relative of ours who still resides in the UK.

1. Chris T. Mackins states: “Sandy Mackins, Australia, comes from Mackins in Northern Ireland. The fact that her Grandfather was in the police firmly locates a Mackins as Ulster Protestant. This would indicate that Mackins went TO Ireland either from England or Scotland. Most immigrants to Northern Ireland went from around 1600 onward with a peak at the end of the 1600's with the Scottish clearances (or plantations if you prefer). The Mack of Mackins would favour the idea that we may come from the scottish immigrants but not necessarily I guess. Someone may have to do some really hard work to sort out what happened that far back.”
   
   “Sandy's earliest know ancestor was in Fermanagh in the early 1800's at the time the Kent Mackins were in Deal and Walmer.

From The Sun To You: Art of Justin Matthew Hoopes

When It Comes To Andy . . . A Short Story

When It Comes To Andy . . . By Bernie N'Helle

Andy woke up to find himself obsessed with pop culture. He would spend all day and all night trying to connect himself with it. He had no idea of what talents he had. He felt that the only talent worth acknowledging makes its' home only on major labels or his glowing plastic tele-view device.

When it came to women, he put his baseball cap on backwards and prepared to turn into a sex crazed gorilla. Letting one side be lost to the other side of his mind, he was taken in by the billionaire supported pseudo revolutionary dance music on offer. It seemed to him the easy way out, as he already could not conceive of an individual direction to travel himself. On offer not only was music, but a culture built upon a two-dimensional brand. Being two-dimensional himself, Andy took pleasure in mimicking the dancing creatures, using every opportunity to dry hump those he did or did not know.

When it came to sex, his favorite artist, Laddy Glue Gun, a female impersonator from Gwynedd Wales, called every shot. Whether it was poking the anonymous sex target in the face or losing your head heart or sanity on the dance floor, Andy was taught step-by-step how to integrate into the pseudo culture of brand oriented patterns. It comforted him as he found whatever hole he could stuff with whatever type of mind-controlling Disco Sticking device. Mostly he wanted fill the mouth hole so he wouldn't have to listen to what the other gender had to say. He was drunk and entitled; ordained by Mother Munster, an obscure character from a canceled TV show.

When it came to children, Andy promptly donned a wig and moved away to avoid paying for his mistakes. Plus, he had his custom thought stopping brain programming rhythm music for teens to drown his rational thoughts in so he could go back thinking he was entitled to frame the entire world with his personal feelings. When Andy was pursued for child support, he donned the costume of an Italian-American fifties street thug with slicked back hair and fell off of a piano.

When it came to diseases, Andy was rife with them. His favorite song, “Just Prance,” informed him that he should throw all brain power and caution to the wind. When he contracted an especially vicious strain of virulent gonorrhea he took it as a sign to start waving glow sticks, taking ecstasy, and posting the same message on YouTube over and over.

One day, Andy died. It didn't matter because he was a robot.

THE END