Chapter 4: My Revenge against Exploding rabbit

 **Chapter 4: My Revenge with the Exploding Rabbit**

In the annals of digital villainy, few tales of retribution are as delightfully twisted as my own odyssey of vengeance against Jay Pavlina, the once-revered creator of *Super Mario Crossover*. Ah, Jay, how the mighty have fallen from their pixelated pedestals! This chapter is not merely a saga of revenge; it's a sardonic symphony composed on the keys of justice and sweet, sweet irony.

**The Heist That Sparked a War**

Our story begins with a heart filled with admiration and a wallet willingly opened. I, like many unsuspecting patrons of the digital arts, fell victim to Jay's siren song—a Kickstarter campaign that promised wonders but delivered only echoes of betrayal. A grand, round figure of $1000 vanished into the ether, leaving me with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of deception. It was then I vowed to make the *Exploding Rabbit* experience seem as appetizing as a pile of regurgitated carrots.

**Operation Copyright Coup**

Firstly, in an act of delicious irony, I decided to copyright his beloved game. Yes, you read that correctly. With every shred of legality (or so we humorously pretend), I proclaimed the game's essence mine to distribute freely among the masses. Now, floating like a liberated spirit in the realms of the internet, the game is available for all, courtesy of a website I benevolently partake in. Let it be known, the graphics remain untouched—intellectual property rights and all that jazz—but everything else? It's as free as a bird...or, should I say, a rabbit on the run.

**Unveiling the Scam's Depth**

Secondly, my sleuthing skills came into play. Buried within the ancient crypts of my old email, evidence of Jay's nefarious schemes lies dormant, waiting for the right moment to erupt. A slight hitch in the plan—transitioning to Android has locked me out of my Apple past, necessitating a six-month pilgrimage through digital limbo. But fear not, for a new iPad shall be my Excalibur, and soon, the explosive dossier will reach the vigilant eyes of DJ Slopes and his "Kickscammers" series. Jay's fantastical escape to Brazil to dodge legal retribution? A mere smokescreen. My investigative tendrils stretch far and wide.

**The Facade of Genius**

Lastly, a revelation most amusing. The code I copyrighted, the supposed backbone of Jay's sprawling digital empire, is as elementary as a BASIC programming tutorial from the '80s. Our dear Jay, a doppelganger of Weird Al Yankovic sans the accordion and humor, is no coding savant. His latest Steam venture? A mirage built upon the sandy foundations of others' talents. Yet, amidst the chicanery, Jay has secured for himself a quaint abode. A toast, then, to his ill-gotten gains!

In the end, dear readers, my saga is more than just a tale of personal vendetta; it's a beacon for all who have felt the sting of digital duplicity. To Jay, I offer a Shakespearean morsel to chew on: "The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones." As for me, my quest for justice marches on, a reminder that in the pixelated realms of cyberspace, heroes and villains often swap masks.

And so, to DJ Slopes, I say: Patience, my ally. The best of this sordid tale is yet to unfold.

And no, no serious....

 the betrayal I experienced at the hands of Jay Pavlina transcends mere financial loss. It's about the web of lies, the evasion of accountability, and a deceit that casts long shadows over the sanctity of trust within our community. 

Thus, I extend an olive branch paved with conditions aimed not just at restitution, but at a public acknowledgment of wrongdoing. Jay Pavlina, if you seek to avert the unveiling of your deceit, here lies your path to redemption:

1. **Public Confession**: For a period of 30 days, your social media bios must bear the confession "I am a weiner and I scammed @kickscammers". Let this declaration be a testament to your willingness to confront your past actions.

2. **A Change of Image**: Accompanying this, change your profile picture to a screenshot from one of your videos, a visual cue of your acceptance of this penance.

3. **A Daily Reminder of Humility**: Post your audition to the AVGN movie daily, a symbolic gesture of acknowledging your fallibility and the journey towards betterment.

**A Contact for Resolution**: Should these terms find favor in your eyes, contact me at bustershotgames@gmail.com. Upon your commitment to these actions, I shall provide you with details concerning the date and cost of your property acquisition, a gesture towards mitigating further public discourse on this matter.

btw ill send you the date and cost of  your house......

well i said my piece,

youll hear from it soon.

Btw people mom is ok, just taking hard the loss of my dad. Me too honestly.

Chapter 3: Tales from the Hospital Ward: A Cynical Compendium

Greetings, my fellow sufferers of life's miseries. It is with a heavy heart and a light toe that I bring you the latest installment of my cynical, yet humorous journey through the bowels of a hospital. Yes, you read that correctly; my mom is the latest victim of the medical industry's insatiable thirst for maladies, and it's all because of a toe. A toe!

Now, let's dive headfirst into the abyss of my hospital misadventures.

Sleep, or lack thereof, is the bane of my existence. You see, dear reader, hospitals have this peculiar habit of leaving doors open at all hours, inviting an onslaught of invasive light from the corridors. How is one expected to rest when you're practically under a spotlight?

And then there's the food. Ah, food, the one pleasure left in this world. But alas, the culinary creations of this particular establishment are a cruel mockery of the very concept of taste. Imagine, if you will, a world where everything tastes like air. No, not the fresh mountain breeze or the salty sea air, just the air that you're breathing right now. That's the extent of the flavors on offer here.

Did I mention the climate? Forget the frigid temperature you'd expect in a hospital. No, this place is a sauna, a veritable tropical paradise in the middle of a concrete jungle. I half expect to see a palm tree sprouting from the linoleum floor at any moment.

But the greatest affront to my sensibilities comes from the pharmacy. In an institution dedicated to healing and well-being, you'd think they'd have a selection of literature befitting the occasion. Alas, no. Instead, they offer a cornucopia of poorly written novels that make a tabloid headline seem like Shakespearean prose.

And there you have it, dear readers. My life as a reluctant visitor to the world of healthcare. A journey filled with sleepless nights, flavorless meals, sauna-like temperatures, and books that should be used as kindling. Ah, the joys of modern medicine!

And to add insult to injury, my hospital stay has been punctuated by the unsolicited gift of literature from various religious figures. Apparently, they feel it's their holy duty to save my soul from the perils of premarital sex and the evils of modern dating. The irony is palpable.

Chapter 2: lil late - From Nostalgia to Lost Hope: My 2011 Odyssey

Hello world, I'm back! After a decade-long hiatus filled with canceled albums, lost loves, and a tragic loss, I have returned to grace you with my cynical rant.

Let's start with the obvious: Music. Remember those albums that were supposed to be released in 2011? Yeah, they're still not out, well they were but are now cancelled. Because cd baby and distrokid dont like me, It's I got lost in some cosmic limbo between creativity and perfectionism. I guess you can call it the "Artistic Bermuda Triangle."

And speaking of things not going as planned, my personal life has been a roller coaster. The loss of my dear old dad hit me like a truck. Coping with that, along with two more kids and a bunch of exes, has been like trying to juggle flaming swords while balancing on a tightrope. It's no surprise I turned to writing to keep me sane. Well, as sane as a cynical writer can be.

But hey, every cloud has a silver lining, right? I found my weird inspiration in all this chaos. It's like life looked at me, shrugged, and said, "You think you've seen it all? Hold my beer." In a world where the only constant is change, finding humor in the absurdity of life has become my coping mechanism.

So here I am, back from the abyss, ready to spread my cynical humor to the masses. Stay tuned for more tales of woe, hilarity, and maybe even a sprinkle of hope. After all, what's life without a little laughter, even if it's laced with a touch of cynicism?

Chapter 1: PISSED OFF RAPPER

                                                     Chapter 1: PISSED OFF RAPPER
         
                     I was in a radio station called mix 107.7 and I was announcing my new "CD" sueños y leyendas, dreams and legends, drunk as a skunk, since I always used to repress my attitudes and emotions with alcohol.Big mistake, right under my nose while i was just spouting some of my diss act, with a Puerto Rican rapper called "Arcangel". While I was in the radio station, these guys just out of nowhere, "farruko" before he was named "emo" of the year down here, entered the room with a cocky swagga, looking like a rapper till he opened his mouth then I heard his song it sounded like...t-pain, but a spanish t-pain...and they love him....That's what i call good marketing.... followed by some other guy that at least said my name.        
       What pissed me off, is that they entered my radio time , without my permission, of course I am on air, and i can't say shit, isn't that fucked up? well i was dissing arcangel and i remember everybody went dam motherfucker you crazyyyy, that felt so good, that whole crowd euphoria following me because of a dumb word I said, it was awesome. BUT....You know why these radio people, did this to me, what i mean is...disrespect me and let people broadcast there product on my time.. something they would never let me do....I was just to humble, I was a good kid , course if I would have said something everything would have gone fine, 48 laws of power are just to right, and i started becoming a man so this was not a bad moment after all.
                     Explaining what diss or "tiraera is for a sec" here is the real definition, except for times like Biggie, 2-pac, Nas and Jay-z, those were apparently not publicity stunts. Rapper's for the sake of promotion, being known, and being respected we  do RAP BATTLES, since its competition and we want to demonstrate we are way better.
                      Problem is now they use something called a "street team", so if you diss a rapper, no matter how great, you are they have street teams and they are going to flame you destroying you're reputation. Dissing right now is a risky move if you are a rapper, you should talk it with the other rapper and negotiate, that is what all those rap battles you see are about, they are not gladiator matches, not prideful matches like they make you think they are, no, they are just publicity stunts.
                      I don't regret dissing those dudes, in fact I am gonna launch my  mixtape, with all my damn diss tracks which are all pure gold. In one I diss a guy that used to be my best friend, let's call him by his stage name "Big J", that one is called "You a'int no blood" you see, I mortally respect blood's and when somebody pretends to be one, its just more than funny, so i just kicked his ass lyrically for doing that. There's a famous rapper called "Arcangel" down here in P.R., by that time i really did not like his attitude in his songs, fairly said, he sounds like a prick, still does ummm: "no offense dude" so i coined the "Jigsaw" name for the first time in that song too. I diss other douche bag competitors, one of them which is actually a big fan gone mad, sorta like a big-fat-fag he really "adores me" he's called Davinchi.
                     Davinchi is just a guy with low self esteem, bad marriage, and also got pissed off, cause I did not include him in my big intro cd track, why not you might ask? ....he sucks!!!, i was not gonna ruin a 30,000 dollar cd, they would kill me. He just  has the worst songs ever, plain and simple, you can google him look for yourself and prove me wrong "ITS TRASH." there was literally hundreds of people asking me, why i was dissing him back??? Well simple: "he mentioned my fucking ex wife in a song, and only I get to diss her ". He used to rap with me , with another rapper called "defknot" or as i call him "defsnot" in a group called, "Unfuckables", haha you must be saying: "wow yes, that is very original" with sarcasm, yes the name does suck, you are not wrong, but, I did, vow for the group and till this day I thought I was with them.

                   Can you believe i saw "defsnot" in that song with him, dissing me too, it was funny, I helped defknot, placed him in a huge intro, with a lot of famous puerto rican rappers, but dont worry "defsnot" i am not dissing you, 1st buy a new mike.