VICKMONT films release: Ace Toth - Cooler BnB

Cool Airbnb, the only way to fly Boarding, recording, beers and getting high You can skate the city, or stay here and ride Please be respectful, when you get out a line, cuz When you're outta line, you may be outta time, that's Why we got a waiver, and you gotta sign, we're All here to skate, not to see somebody die, and If you break, it's your fault, not mine Cool Airbnb, hit us on the run Boarding, recording, beers and getting dumb Bowls in the backyard, gaps in the front, a Drop from the balcony, don't bite your tongue Slash the jersey barrier, like a masked punk Bomb down the alley, but watch out for the drunk, cuz If you hit a bum, the cops are going to come, and If the cops come, they may say some'n Cool Airbnb, it's how we like to live Boarding, recording, beers and getting blitzed Stay in St Louis, bring your girl, bring the kids Pay up to wake up and skate, you got dibs If you got the money, I got the diggs Mi casa es su casa, it's your crib, a Cupboard full of roofer and some beer in the fridge, a Yard full of concrete, hope you brought your rig Cool Airbnb, as if it's not enough Boarding, recording, beers and hitting blunts Respect all guests, but be careful who you trust Some pull fast ones, others pull stunts, I Had to pull permits to set this all up, my Neighbors signed off, so I took 'em out to lunch, I Went and found fill, about twenty-five tons, and Twenty-five masons to get the job done https://jonathantothfromhoth.bandcamp.com/album/cooler-bnb

Chapter 50

[CONFERENCE CALL - January 20, 2021 at 6am EST] 

Trump: You’re finished Joe! 

Joe: You’re full of shit Don. 

Trump: We have you and your son fucking Ukraine, royally. You didn’t wipe anything. ANYTHING. 

Joe: Oh yeah.

Trump: You helped Hillary with the Uranium. You did. 

Joe: Oh yeah.

Trump: You allowed voter fraud Joe. Yes you. Joe Biden was complicit in fucking America out of their choice. I’m talking to you Joe. 

Joe: Oh yeah.

Trump: You fucked kids on Epstein’s island. We have videos… 

Joe: …oh yeah. 

Trump: You have one option Joe… OK, JOE?

Joe: Ok... 

Trump: I will abdicate the throne to you. Just you, based upon one circumstance. 

Joe: Ok... 

Trump: You WILL pay me 1% US GDP per year that your “admin” exists. 

Joe: Ok... 

Trump: Really? OK? 

Joe:… 

Trump: Do you math Joe? 

Joe:… 

Trump:… 

Joe:… 

Trump: (looks at surrounding military tribunal) Joe? 

Joe: Yeah. 

Trump: It’s done. 

Joe: Yeah. 

Trump: Do you understand? 

Joe: Oh yeah. 

Trump: You get to be president, IF and ONLY IF, you funnel 1% of the US GNP to me, per annum. 

Joe: Yeah. 

Trump: Do you understand? 

Joe: Oh yeah. 

Trump: You understand, because of your treason to our beloved country and thirst for the blood of children, I am taking 1% of your claim? 

Joe: Yeah. 

Trump: You understand, because of the alliances you have made, with warlords, with Satanists, with Ba’al, with the devil himself, you have no other option other than to accept the will of Christians who actually safeguard our citizens? 

Joe: Oh yeah. 

Trump: You will comply? 

Joe: I will. I do. 

Trump:… 

Joe: Can I go now sir? 

Trump: Sure brother. Go with God. 

Joe: Oh yeah.

Chapter 49

“You put ankle bracelets on all of them?” The president was getting his hair did. Annoying, but necessary. He felt like a chick, but whatevs. Showbiz is showbiz. “Are you telling me Pelosi is wearing a tracking device, right now?"

His generals were all smiles. One of them answered, “Everyone caught in the Epstein honey trap or the Wuhan tainted adrenochrome sting is wearing one.”

“John Legend’s wife too? Was she really pregnant or did they sacrifice someone else’s baby on the 1st of October?”

“The less you know, the better Mr. President,” another general added.

“Even Alec Baldwin? That prick. I hope he thinks about that ankle bracelet every time he plays me.”

“Even Balwdin,” the first general conceded, “but please sir, plausible deniability still applies here, so…”

“God Damn it feels good to be a gangster!” The president was still zinging from his COVID treatment and a Vitamin b12 shot. “I feel as good as I did on the day Bush senior died. Did you see their faces when we handed out those envelopes? Jeb and W were hilarious. They looked like scared kids! Those cocksuckers…Hillary will burn in hell too…”

“Sir,” the second general continued, “there has been little activity of those braceleted as far as their contacts. They’ve been warned not to participate in their monthly ceremonies.”

“So, they still happen? We didn’t halt their observance?”

The generals looked chagrined, “we have disrupted their usual means of communication, so they are severely hindered and those unaccounted for have had to scatter into the winds. The low level minions are spilling the beans, but the higher ups are still in the shadows.”

“Right, right… the ‘you wouldn’t even know their names’ people.” The president seemed caught up in memories. He paused and continued. “I was so pissed when I saw Eminem and Pharrell on that list.”

“Please consider some of them are assets like yourself, sir.” The first general oozed with admiration for the president. “We are so fortunate to be alive right now.”

“You had more insiders at Epstein’s? Ha! What a tool. I dodged a bullet partying with that asshole. How many agents did you have up in there?”

“Less is more sir,” The second general persisted, “let’s continue with the briefing.” “Right, right, so what’s next?” the president asked.

A third general stepped up, “we need to focus on the election.”

“Do we win?” the president asked.

“If we don’t, this all gets put on hold. Biden will take naps, the Clintons will be back in force and the Bushes will pull the plugs on every part of this operation they can,” the general paused, “then they will come after you.”

“LOL,” the president said, literally, “let ‘em try! This train ain’t stopping anytime soon.”

“It is imperative that we win the election, or all of our work is in jeopardy and you will be targeted by the USG.”

“So, do we win?” the president asked again.

“We do,” the general stated, “and we have several options on how that happens.”

Chapter 48 - Election Day 2020

It was a Monday, THE Monday before the election. The president had called an emergency press conference. Some of the media balked and refused to cover it. Social media ran interference. Topics ranged from abuse of power to conspiracy theory to Lol Dolls. Reruns and blockbuster movies blared loudly from most homes, but some tuned in to the president, wondering what tricks might be up his sleeve.

“America, I am so proud to have served as your commander-in-chief. I hope everyone gets a chance to vote tomorrow. This will be the greatest election in the history of the world.” There was some applause from the audience and a few laughs. “I could talk about how great this administration is. How it came to be. Why our country is so much safer, so much stronger, so much greater than ever before.

“I could brag about taking down Epstein and Weinstein,” more applause, “the child-trafficking pimps who ran Hollywood, Washington and royalty through blackmail and sex.” Nervous laughter echoed his words. “I could explain how the Deep State is losing its hold on our military, our government and our money.” Whoops got lost in the acoustics.

“I could spill the beans on all the sealed indictments, hundreds of thousands at this point I believe, being served secretly, as we speak, to those caught on video in the biggest sting operation ever to encompass this great country…” the room went silent. He waited, seconds slowed into Matrix-like minutes. “Instead, I consider the lillies.” He looked at his captive audience and smirked. He held on. They waited. “I’m not a plant guy. I’ll admit. I like to eat ‘em, but I don’t care to spend my time learning about ‘em.” The room was electrified with uncertainty.

“I have my stances on what plants are good for America and what plants are bad for America, but I must admit, my opinion has been evolving…” The audience was riveted, what on Earth was he talking about? “Our forefathers didn’t agree on many things. Some didn’t like slavery, some did.” Dead air filled their ear drums. “Some felt women were equal to men, some didn’t. Some of our forefathers fought each other to death because they would not evolve with the times and many died. I don’t want that for America. I know in my heart, it is our right to evolve. But I also understand, it also our right NOT to evolve.”

The people in the room began to look at each other. Sweat dripped visibly off the brows of neighbors. Temperatures rose and pheromones clashed. It was getting awkward. “If there was one thing our forefathers agreed upon, it was that life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness included growing hemp, marijuana, cannabis for medicinal purposes or otherwise." Gasps sprung like gas leaks. "I, Donald Trump, do hereby declare through executive order #14420 that this plant is no longer considered a schedule one drug and completely legal. From now on, ALL Americans are restored their right to cultivate this herb that was written about in the bible and given to us by God!”

The eruption on camera felt scripted. People hugged each other and forgot about a virus. Many wept openly. There were cheers around the country. Social media exploded with some crying foul, but most were grateful and saw it for what it was: a Trump card, and the election was tomorrow.

Chapter 47

Assange was restless, unkempt and annoyed af. He was getting no information, no online, no outside, nothing. It had been a scary journey, and when the Brits closed in he thought, this is it. Oh shit, I’m done for. Hillary’s people have finally figured out how to wrangle me away. They will not let me live after publishing their pizza network. But then some different Americans showed up. Classy-like but casual. They chilled out the guards, even got him his own section of the prison. They let him know.

“You are safe Mr. Assange,” said the taller American. “Your arrest will be made to look… endangering to other journalists. It will appear that you, a bastion of integrity and transparency will finally have fallen.”

Assange cracked a smile. “Are you the good yanks by chance?”

The other American broke character and grinned, “bro, I can’t tell you how cool it is to meet you…” A phone rang. He picked up. “Oh, of course,” he looked at Assange, ”it’s for you my man.”

Assange held the phone with glistening eyes, “hello?”

“Holy fuck, right?”

“Who is this?” Assange asked, smiling.

“I’m Rick Flair bitch! WOOOO!” Chelsea Manning screamed into the phone.

Tears streamed down his face. “You are out of jail, right?”

“Fuck yes, and who would’ve guessed that it would be this administration to do it?”

Assange was amused, he had to admit. Trump was always a clown to him, but to find out he was just playing another role, almost like his tv character was… amusing. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” he quoted, “it turns out satanists have more enemies than most!”

Manning squealed. “OmGAAAAAWD! How many years were you like, wtf guys? I can only give you so much information on these people before they kill me?”

Assange paused and thought about it. What the hell, it’s about over. “When I breached the DoD database in 1987, a couple of the big brass scolded me separately, but reminded me of my duty as a human being. If I were ever to do that again, it would be better to tell them again. They weren’t as interested in punishing me, because they realized they needed me. They didn’t know how to troll their own people.” He thought about it all for a moment. “They did manage to record it all for decades - four of them. Taping, filing, amassing more, year after year after year, and now BAM! It’s going down. It’s a lot to take in.”

Manning was tearing up. “This is really happening, isn’t in? These people are really being reigned in, like for real, for real?”

Assange got to brag, “it’s happening, it’s happening fast and furious. The COVID ploy was their last-ditch effort to muddy the waters, but even bunkers are registered. The richer sick fucks can’t get away from their own paperwork. A lot of them are going to die in them. At least they get to choose their fate. I feel sick about it. I have a lot of friends who were abused. Most of them never got over it.”

“I always wondered why WikiLeaks never leaked the pedo stuff earlier.”

“Too sensitive,” Assange asserted. “Ted Gunderson of the FBI was on to their moves in the 1970s. He died mad. He would never get to the bottom of why his superiors shelved all his evidence of child trafficking.”

“But it is this, right?” Manning asked. “This is the end of the illuminati?”

Assange considered it, “This is the end of something.”

Chapter 46

"For the last god damn time, WE HAVE IMMUNITY!" The 42rd president was pink-faced and livid, wide-eyed with that real look of mania inside them. "Our people will take care of it. Let's move on!"

Hillary was spinning. "Bill, they have the videos. They have you on videos - zzzz. Thirteen to fifteen of them, how appropriate. It's almost like they only kept that number to complement your tastes!"

"You bitch fucker. Those are not me," his eyes actually got wider, then circled the room. "You know how evolved deep fake is. Don't you pussy out now cause you're worried about Don-Don's crusade. He was there too, he dipped his wick and he knows it."

"That doesn't matter Bill! Whether he's compromised or not, he's letting his people do it! This is martial law, and they're FUCKING DOING IT!"

"Immunity..." Bill was exhausted and scared. Dinner was not working out. What an October surprise. "We are fucking immune darling."

"Secret indictments kill all that and you know it!" She was shaking. She should probably eat something, she was too juiced. "They've snatched all our people out one by one, and now... it's just THEM! They have the law, they have the muscle and with these videos... they will have THE ENTIRE PUBLIC ON THEIR SIDE!!!"

"Please stop." Bill couldn't look at her. "We have to trust our allies, our allegiances, our friends. They owe us."

"And we owe them, you dumb fuck!" I'm not being hysterical, she thought. "We lost. We owe all those people! They may choose to cut us off instead of recoup what they can. I was supposed to win... fuck me. None of this would be happening right now. That cunt is fucking stabbing us in the back."

"Quit. Being. Hysterical." Bill knew he was keeping his cool. He'd learned. She's just a teammate. Say it again brother, she's just a teammate. "This is not happening. Even if it is, we are protected."

"They're handing out ankle bracelets like toys," she put her face in her hands. "Ellen? And cocksucking OPRAH? We have to get ahead of the ball! How do we get ahead of the ball??"

Bill touched her head, still in her hands, "you know I love you. For better of for worse..."

She flinched and sat up. "Not now. Sorry, just... I don't feel like being cared for, I need to take care of this myself."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Whatever you need darling. Whatever you need..."

She left his bunker and her security fell in line around her down the tunnel. She walked as fast as she could without changing her breathing. They have Bill. They don't have me. They have Bill. They don't have me. They have Bill. They don't have me.

Our House

To
whom it may concern, the goons are taking turns,
manhandling the planet, making mother burn, our
seeds will never germinate upon a scorched earth, no
wonder they've been tunnelling beneath it like worms.
It's
not for everyone, they're only taking some, the
privileged are getting in for submitting their funds, and
even though it's mostly those who blotted out the sun, their
guilt gets eclipsed and acquitted with their sums.
It
isn't really fair, but they don't really care, their
bad blood parents never taught 'em how to share, they're
empty in the empathy department, it was bare, they
went to market looking for the bulls or the bears.

But we live here too, stop making it weird dude,
all for one and one for all billion musketeers too,
if you're speaking 1%, we won't hear you,
there is no masses vs. the few, we're you!

Our house... in the middle of this heat,
our house... makes it difficult to eat.

The only "us vs. them" is coming from within,
the lie that binds us from finding our purposes,
it's a serpent's tongue that prevents us from,
trusting one another enough to live in love,

what a dirty trick to enlist the rich,
with some fear of lack at the flick of your wrist,
now they're addicts for power every hour they live,
under the sick influence of a wicked which,

shit's the same as rape every time you make,
another wraith ready to take off others' plates
what's the shape of your estate if you can't relate?
Ashes to ashes, play with fire get burnt at the stake,

welcome, all sisters and brethren,
hell comes from the house of Slytherin,
if and when those reptilians try to enter in,
render 'em snake skin belts for your next of kin,

Our house... it's a riddle we can keep,
our house... maybe now we'll get some sleep.