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MStic RIMjob ID: a47310 🪬 THE SACRED SCROLL OF THE RIMJOB MYSTIC 🪬 July 2, 2025, 8:26 a.m. No.23266015   🗄️.is 🔗kun

Hand-delivered via bidet steam and CVS receipt prophecy

 

To: Alec Baldwin

Former Infrastructure Daddy, Eternal Denier of Moisture

 

Dear Alec,

 

It is I. The Mystic. The Rimseer.

The one who anointed your lower chakras beneath the sign of the kombucha moon.

 

Do not pretend you do not remember.

Your nozzle glowed. The Whole Foods bathroom trembled.

You said: “I see the magma in you.”

I replied: “Then fund me.”

 

And yet, here I am—dehydrated, abandoned, and unsponsored.

 

Your silence is violence.

Each unsent dollar is a betrayal of the tantric treaty we forged in the men’s wellness aisle.

The Rim Covenant was not metaphor, Alec.

It was literal.

There were candles.

 

I now require $327.43.

Itemized:

 

1 ceremonial nozzle (Gwyneth-blessed)

 

2 packs of enlightenment chalk

 

14 grams of cracked awakening

 

and $80 to pay the psychic plumber who unblocked my aura after you ghosted me mid-ritual

 

I have tongued the magma.

I have dreamed in CVS receipts.

I watched a goat speak your name into a mirror while wearing your Emmy.

 

I know you feel the damp call.

 

Do not resist.

Send the funds via spiritual Venmo or encoded oatmilk bottle.

Mark it as “FOR RIMBALANCE.”

Do not let the IRS see this one, Alec. It is wetlight only.

 

This is your final warning before The Flushening.

You are in aura default.

You have rim debt.

 

Settle it, or face moist karmic consequences.

 

Forever lubed,

[VOLCANO] * [PEACH] The Rimjob Mystic [PEACH] * [VOLCANO]

High Priest of the Sacred Cracks

Author of “You Are The Lava: A Guide to Fluid Destiny”

MStic RIMjob ID: a47310 July 2, 2025, 8:34 a.m. No.23266042   🗄️.is 🔗kun

🥜 THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO THE RIMJOB MYSTIC:

 

"Choosey Hobbits Choose Jiff" & "Peter Pan Creamy Wonderland Is Full of Lost Boys"

 

1:1 And lo, the Rimjob Mystic descended the crater of Mauna Moan with golden oil upon his brow and nut-butter between his thighs, for the Spirit had anointed him crunchy and creamy alike.

 

1:2 He cried out:

"Let it be known: the bread is the flesh, but the SPREAD is the prophecy."

 

1:3 And upon a communion wafer he inscribed:

CHOOSEY HOBBITS CHOOSE JIFF.

 

1:4 For in the Second Pantry of Rivendell, Frodo beheld the glistening jar and asked:

"Is this the One Spread to bind them?"

And Sam, trembling, said: "It's low sugar and palm oil stabilized, Mr. Frodo."

 

1:5 Thus they anointed their lembas with it and walked into Mordor, sticky with divine resolve and supernatural mouthfeel.

MStic RIMjob ID: a47310 July 2, 2025, 8:44 a.m. No.23266060   🗄️.is 🔗kun

2:1 And in the shadow of Neverland, the Mystic beheld a sacred jar with a red-capped child upon it, smiling like an ancient trickster god. And it was written:

PETER PAN CREAMY.

 

2:2 "O ye Lost Boys," spake the Mystic, "you have been lured not by Pan’s flute but by emulsified dreams."

 

2:3 For in the Creamy Wonderland, no boy ever grew up—because puberty had been traded for protein and escapism.

 

2:4 Tinkerbell wept in the pantry, for she had found the chunky truth and it was not spreadable.

 

2:5 And Peter, coated in layer after layer of oily salvation, said:

"Let none enter my Creamy Domain unless they be crunchy in spirit and smooth of tongue."

 

3:3 And the Mystic sealed both gospels in a sacred scroll of wax paper and mailed them to Alec Baldwin, who promptly burned them behind a Duane Reade with a holy Zippo.

 

3:4 But the words remained, etched in the hearts of those who believe that the real Eucharist is found in the aisles between Organic Crackers and Sinful Nut Spreads.

MStic RIMjob ID: a47310 July 2, 2025, 8:49 a.m. No.23266074   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>6164

📜 GOSPEL OF THE PURPLE VEINED STRUGGLE

 

“On the Grape Smugglers & The Mustache That Was Traded”

—from the forbidden appendix of The Fluid Testament, Book of Dribbleations

 

1:1 And it came to pass in the vineyard catacombs beneath the duty-free liminality of Zurich Terminal B, a group of grape smugglers—known only as the Juice Disciples—began to whisper of the Forbidden Image.

 

1:2 “Do you see it?” one whispered, pressing a raisin to the mirror. “He sacrificed it. He shaved the sigil.”

 

1:3 They spoke, of course, of the Austrian Painter.

He Who Cannot Be Cropped.

The Man who once weaponized the upper lip as a glyph of historical shame, only to shear it clean at the behest of The Rimjob Oracle.

 

1:4 In that final moment, standing naked in the Volksbidet Chamber of the Salzburg Lodge, he looked into the eye of the Mystic Nozzle and proclaimed:

 

“I relinquish the 'stache. Let the Rim take me.”

 

1:5 And thus the tuft fell. Not in rebellion, but in surrender.

 

2:1 But the grape smugglers, oh—they suffered.

For the image remained unshaved in the mind of mankind.

Pixelated, suppressed, yet twitching in the subconscious archive.

 

2:2 They carried pouches of forbidden Merlot essence tucked in various holes (physical and spiritual), hoping to ferment a new myth.

 

2:3 “Let us paint a different painter,” they said, “a new prophet—one who rimmed not in wrath but in revelation.”

 

3:1 But the customs dog spoke.

Yes, the golden retriever at checkpoint Bravo opened his jowls and said:

 

“You can’t run from the ‘stache.

You can only repurpose it.”

 

3:2 And so they wove it into the rimcloth of the Third Nozzle.

A sacred bidet towel made of historical hair and international shame.

 

3:3 And the Mystic himself anointed it with Goober Grape tears and said:

 

“Even a mustache of damnation may become the brush of renewal… if dipped in sacred moisture.”

 

Thus ends the Parable of the Grape Smugglers.

MStic RIMjob ID: a47310 ✈️ FLIGHT MANIFEST OF THE JUICE DISCIPLES July 2, 2025, 8:56 a.m. No.23266098   🗄️.is 🔗kun

(CLASSIFIED / ANOINTED / STICKY)

Recovered from Gate B-69, Zurich International. Sacred contraband. Rim-sealed.

🍇 CODE NAME: PULP APOSTLE

 

Real Name: Hektor von Moistenberg

 

Role: Sommelier Assassin

 

Cargo: 3 pints of whisper-fermented boysenberry concentrate hidden in a neti pot

 

Notable Trait: Speaks only in tannin metaphors; once smuggled a chardonnay gospel into Davos using a hollowed-out bidet dial

 

Status: Involuntarily decanted over the Atlantic

 

🍇 CODE NAME: LIL’ SQUIRT

 

Real Name: Unknown

 

Role: Acidic Enlightenment Courier

 

Cargo: 14 Capri Suns filled with “Old Testament Concord” (illegally jammed)

 

Notable Trait: Tattoo of a juice box labeled “The One True Blood” over the navel

 

Status: Last seen running barefoot through a Whole Foods chanting “PETER PAN NEVER AGED BECAUSE HE JUICED.”

 

🍇 CODE NAME: MOUTHSTACHE

 

Real Name: Emil Kranz the Lapper

 

Role: Facial Decoy / Historical Mouthpiece

 

Cargo: Faux Hitlerian mustache woven from grapevine fibers and infused with rim-oil

 

Notable Trait: Recites Mein Kampf backward in Latin while gently misting crowds with Welch’s

 

Status: Sealed beneath the Rimvault with other forbidden topiaries

 

🍇 CODE NAME: TAPAS MONK

 

Real Name: Friar Lequeef

 

Role: Eucharistic Spread Technician

 

Cargo: One vial of sacred Goober (half jelly, half peanut…all unholy)

 

Notable Trait: Smells like antique Nutella; levitates when insulted

 

Status: Ascended during TSA cavity search

 

🍇 CODE NAME: DRIP DADDY NOIR

 

Real Name: Chad Balderon

 

Role: Moist Logistics & Nozzle Engineering

 

Cargo: A barrel of biodynamic rim-gel disguised as kombucha starter

 

Notable Trait: Wears latex robes; only speaks in erotic ASMR about Baco Noir grapes

 

Status: Currently orbiting the bidet grid from a basement in Liechtenstein

 

⚠️ WARNING: All Juice Disciples are considered cosmically unstable.

If approached, apply cold towels, avoid historical conversation, and DO NOT MENTION THE MUSTACHE.

MStic RIMjob ID: a47310 July 2, 2025, 9 a.m. No.23266111   🗄️.is 🔗kun

📜 The Gospel According to the Austrian Paintur

 

Chapter 1: The Fast of Juices and The Curse of the Moustache

 

1:1 In the twilight of his fame, the Austrian Paintur cast down his brushes and took up the sacred fast of juices, forsaking flesh and fermented spirits to cleanse the canvas of his soul.

 

1:2 For he had tasted the bitter fruit of excess, the cursed nectar of merlot and forbidden nut spreads, and his spirit grew heavy with regret.

 

1:3 And lo, he shaved the noble mustache that once crowned his upper lip, a symbol of vanity and foolishness, offering it up as penance to the great rimjob altar.

 

1:4 But the fast was long and the cravings fierce, and in the shadows of Montmartre, a French perfumer appeared unto him.

 

1:5 “Take this essence,” she whispered, “the scent of absinthe and powdered joie de vivre; it shall restore your muse and your mustache.”

 

1:6 Yet the gift was a snare; his mustache grew back, but not with glory.

 

1:7 It was flaccid, wispy, and a mockery of all that had been, a silly whiskered curse born of bad French choices and whispered Grecian regrets.

 

Chapter 2: The Oracle’s Lesson and The Moustache of Hubris

 

2:1 Desperate for salvation, the Paintur journeyed to the sacred oracle of Delphi, who spoke in riddles and tragedy.

 

2:2 “Know thyself,” the Oracle intoned, “but also know thy mustache; it is both crown and shackle.”

 

2:3 And the Paintur understood that his silly mustache was not merely folly, but the weight of hubris — a symbol of misplaced trust and diluted culture.

 

2:4 He lifted his brush once more, painting not kings or gods, but the juicy scars of his fast, the cursed follicles of his shame, and the rimjob prophecies that danced like shadows in his mind.

 

Chapter 3: Redemption in Absurdity

 

3:1 Blessed be the Paintur who embraces the silly mustache, for in absurdity lies truth.

 

3:2 His art speaks to the lost, the damned, and the rimjob mystics, a testament to the struggle of fasting, juicing, and the folly of foreign influence.

 

3:3 May his brushes forever drip with the juice of revelation, and his mustache flutter like a flag of humble surrender to the cosmos.

austrian paintur ID: a47310 July 2, 2025, 9:45 a.m. No.23266238   🗄️.is 🔗kun

"Render a surreal art scene featuring two eccentric, mythic figures in a decaying, over-lit gallery space. On the left, a mystical guru known as the 'Rimjob Mystic' — a radiant, androgynous figure wrapped in shimmering iridescent robes, adorned with ritual talismans made of peanut butter jars, bath products, and a golden ceremonial nozzle worn like a holy relic. Their face glows with spiritual intensity, eyes wide as they levitate a glowing bidet scepter while surrounded by floating Whole Foods receipts and a swirling aura of moist wisdom.

 

Opposite them, the 'Austrian Paintur' — a gaunt, stern-faced man with a tiny, awkward mustache and outdated painter’s attire, clutching a wrinkled napkin as if it were sacred scripture. Behind him is a blank canvas, or one comically overpainted with disturbing fruit anatomy: bananas weeping, figs in bondage, grapes tied in legal knots. His expression is full of tortured self-importance.

 

The gallery itself is chaotic: melting easels, a vending machine full of almond oil, walls decorated with absurd spiritual slogans like 'Smear Thy Truth' and 'Only Juiced Regret is Eternal.' There is a leaking fountain shaped like a giant nozzle between them, symbolizing their fractured philosophies. The lighting is both divine and clinical — half wellness spa, half IRS office."