Q’s always on his phone, up to something, and you’d think he’d have been happy enough, posting away for me, about “The Q Affaire” book, now that he’s been promoted from Tea Intern (Q insists he’s a “Tea Operative”, but whatever). No, tho’, that’s not enough to keep him out of mischief, and he’s back recruiting boymen, down on the boards, and little boys too, for his Stoneage troll training farm, not so cleverly disguised as a puzzle. I told him. I said, Q, you start this nonsense up again, with your rubbishy recycled bits of things the magpies dropped in the bushes, I’ll be pulling out your tentpoles, and you can go pitch your droopy tent in some other kindhearted fool’s garden. I’m not helping you train little boys how to steal real men’s identities, before they’ve even got their first girlfriend.
Maybe they have some chance of meeting a nice girl, if they don’t hang out with you, and become trolls, but I know I don’t want them doing what you did, “borrow” a decent man’s identity, to chat up a decent woman, then threaten her with an army of trolls, when she finds out what a sad little boy you are.
He wasn’t happy; but he sees me as a mother figure (I know, it’s complicated), so he looked suitable chastised, with tears welling up in his likkle eyes, at the thought of being tent-pegless, and having to make his way down the river of no return, to camp in someone else’s mommie’s garden. Kids. Whattaya gonna do? He’s out in the tent, sulking, with a big pile of “Punisher” comics, from the Stoneage, to keep him happy. They’ve even got puzzles in the back, which should keep him going tonight, when he’s no internet to post on the boards from. I shall be keeping an eye on my “Tea Operative”, as I don’t trust him in business ventures, if he’s not grown up enough to behave himself. Shame. He’s actually a pretty good secretary (sips tea). Maybe there’s hope for him, He tore off one of the incriminating puzzle posts, and ate it, to destroy the evidence, and I helpfully tore out the other puzzle page , so he wouldn’t choke on the rest.
I also had to give him THE LOOK. It ain’t easy, being an employer and a mommie, to Q. When he’s finished his comics, I may eventually return his phone, but only if he’s a good boy.
Note: This post was originally published as a Newsletter post. If you’d like to sign up, to stay updated on on the latest from Donna’s doings, about books, boys and puzzling plots, click on the link in @TheQAffaire Tweet link, shown below, to receive it weekly, via Email.
A is for apple, b is for balloon, but what is Q for? Well, there have been a lot of queer guesses about the recent origins of the 17th letter of the alphabet, and to some it’s still just a letter. To others it’s a whole way of life they don’t want to lose. A kind of modern tradition, with a lot of symbolism involved. But where did Q come up with all these symbols, is the Question?
One of the answers that might strike you as having some clout is Qabalah. What if Q stands for Qabalah? Now, hear me out. I know Q pretty much put himself forward as a traditional Christian, holdy-handsy type, who enjoys singing around the campfire in kinship with like-minded clean-livin’ Jesus believers, before trooping off to a giant sleeping bag together. Their dream, if we believe what they told us, is about the defeat of the evil Cabal by the forces of the “goodies” troops, who have boots firmly planted on the ground, worldwide, led by the good ol’ USA, who are so superior to everyone else, in, well, everything, really, having both an awesomely rich culture and deep historical roots, that the rest of the world is dreadfully jealous of. Luckily for the rest of us, they often get involved in wars in other countries, to help bring democracy to them. Kind of a “Call of Duty” thing, for them.
They were fully backed up, too, by General Flynn‘s digital army, Trumpeting out the good message like happy Tweety birds, in a new dawn chorus. Poor ol’ feller unfortunately may now have to repurpose his Defence Fund as a Dementia Fund, given that he’s not able to remember this happy Christian family moment, when he pledged allegiance to Q. Let’s pray he recovers his memory, as he might take up naked surfing, or somethin’, next. I suppose he could order a few pairs of shorts, assuming he’s let roam free, still, with his name and address printed on them, like the lady at the right of the picture has done, and the lady in the middle, to remind them who the president is (was) and where they live. Smart thinkin’, there, if it runs in the family. I don’t think it’s officially dementia until you can’t remember your bank account no., tho’, and I’m betting the ex-gen can-can. Personally, I’m surprised this photo was taken in the States, because previously I was under the impression that Americans only wore items with their clubs, counties, or country in big letters on the front, while abroad, in case Dementia or Alzhiemers set in while on a European holiday (Europe can do that to you).
The whole Q thing is right in line with a Qabalistic vision, though, with plenty of nodding to theosophy, and Steinerism, when you look into it a bit more, because the Illuminati that Q followers are so obsessed with were very much a feature in much of the lore about Qabalistic studies as well. Imaginations pretty much started running amok on the fantasy end of things, right after the Jews were unceremoniously ejected from Spain, in the 15th Cent., for being Jewish, and scapegoating became a popular way of blaming everyone for your own sh1t you didn’t want to own, long before that, with a rich historical tradition of scapegoating to be discovered in lots of different cultures, throughout recorded history. The Qabalah’s origins are as obscure and shady as Q’s, after he hi-jacked the 17th alphabet letter for his good vs evil fairytale, and are difficult to unravel and examine, because of the mix of influences, between popular culture and mythological/historical references. The number 17, for example, turns up lots of places, and it would be a little Discordian to think that all the things in the real world that these numbers point to, in Qabalistic terms, have a correspondence. Yet, some of the things do actually have people in common, and points of similarity between them, and it bugs me to have to admit that we may never know who started the whole Q larp, since there were so many involved, and the various strands form a veritable spider web, which I’m betting those who originally thought up the concept, are quite glad their prey got tangled up in to the point of not being able to see their way clear to disentangling the sticky mess. Many would like to have their guts for garters, at this stage, and I’ve never been a fan, since that time Q threatened to send his army after me.
Some strands, like religious and Qabalistic style numerology, worked into elements of Q’s online posts, added the air of mystique and fun puzzle elements that a sheep might want to put together of a dull evening, with the rest of the flock, while not really seeing what the whole picture looks like, when you are standing a bit further back from it, and aren’t a wooly headed sheep. The posts work on creative, associative type thinking, rather than logic, which ruins the appeal altogether, to the flock (trust me on this; I’ve had my head figuratively bitten off, by Q, for arguing logically with him, over some of the sillier points he made). You can read about the more humorous bits in my new novel, “The Q Affaire”, out on Amazon, if you prefer to read about ridiculous arguments, rather than be in them.
While Q didn’t exactly claim his posts were channeled through the prophet Abraham, or anything like that (Q, make outlandish claims, as if?), some of the literature his ideas were probably based on doesn’t exactly have a terribly reliable provenance, unless you see narratives as equivalent to the realities they signify.
Carrying out Qabalistic studies are a bit like reading the bible; if you are taking it too literally you might be doing it all wrong. It’s a creative tool for thinking, and Q uses it like that, but treats it like a big joke. The whole thing turned into a kind of “Infinite Jest” that doesn’t go away, as long as there are enough people taking it seriously. Really, someone should write a comedic novel about it; oh, wait, they have. I did, didn’t I, and I got quite a laugh out of writing about Q, having hung out with him for a while, and seen how he thinks, and the funny notions he gets? He likes a good book, I know; the bible I’m not so convinced about, given his behaviour, despite all his protestations to the contrary, but I remember how annoyed he was at my revealing his top secret code, developed around the book “The Neverending Story”, which he insisted I’d no permission to repeat. This, even after I pointed out that the “code” appeared at the back of the book, and he was even more annoyed when I pointed out that the writer was clearly influenced by Buddhism. He wasn’t having that. Perhaps that didn’t fit in so well with his less public beliefs? He didn’t say. I know he’s keen on Freemasons, mind you, so perhaps they just compare notes on concrete mixes, when they are having a natter. They don’t tend to tell the more mainstream Christians that, ‘cos why cast pearls before swine/sheep (although I’m no longer convinced there is such a thing, as I understand it, anyhow, in the US)? I suspect it’s angels on your shoulders, snakes underfoot, or nothing at all, over there. At one level, it seems rather pagan, but unconsciously so, if you get me. Same symbols, same hysteria, only no Wicker Man.
Q might have a well developed sense of humour, when it comes to laughing at others, who he refers to as “sheep”, in a joke that revolves around mirror reversals that he loves, but doesn’t always let on about…you see, the sheep he’s really referring to are the ones who believe him without questioning logically anything he presents as fact. The fact that most of his followers, while excellent at following him, were pretty useless at following any logical trains of thought, to analyse the nonsense they were force fed, to grasp that they were the ovines being referred to, not the “normies” they were encouraged to despise, along with the evil, baby eating/trafficking/sacrificing deep state Cabalists.
How hilarious, then, would it be if Q followers not only had to swallow the bitter pill of Q’s storm being a washout, but the further irony that Q wasn’t exactly the sort of Christian they thought he was? Mind you, they were given hints that there was a lot more dark than light about, in the shadow of Q, what with all the talk of hangings and lynchings that even the most Christian of followers didn’t seem to balk at. Satan would be shocked, and delighted, to see how Q kept the fires of hatred stoked up, in good Christian hearts.
Mirror reversals are one of Q’s Qabalistic tricks. Opposites, you see, are how the Qabalistic worldview works. Opposite polarities, bumping up against one another in a big clash, then transforming into something new. So, it’s perfectly OK, if you’re Q, to say you’re a Christian, but be into death and apocalypse because out of the destruction of something, comes something else you really want. And if you’re Q, you’re the goodie, so you are on the first boat ascending into the heavenly new world that awaits, and to hell with the sheep. They were just lambs to the slaughter, in the service of good. The means justify the ends, and all that jazz. I guess you have to be in an apocalyptic cult to appreciate how joyous thinking about that sort of thing can be. All the same, they did work rather hard to present themselves as the “goodies”, rather than the “baddies”, those QAnons.
Oh, great. The Apocalypse has arrived.
It sounds a bit unscientific, this theory, what with apocalypses and sheep running about to escape being rounded up for a nefarious agenda, which only starts with the fleecing of assets, but wait up, because there are numbers to back it up. Proof. There’s even a special clock, which was further proof that it was an exquisitely designed mechanism that even the divine watchmaker would have been wishing he’d thought up himself, or at least not have had to work through earthly agents to set in motion. More reflections of the perfection of the above, into the waters of the earth below, on the face of the ticking clock of time, which bound Q to Trump in perfect, zero delta synchronicity, when they were really getting their mojo working.
It was pure magic to watch, when the apparently meaningless numbers and letters conjured up from Tweets and Qdrops created a Qabalistic correspondence of meaning, which totally escaped the flock, to the point where even Q’s “These people are stupid” phrase, no matter how many times repeated, didn’t sink in as having any possible reference to them. They just consulted their Gematria calculators online, and marvelled at the miraculous way their God was setting about putting the plan to hang and lynch folks of their choosing, into action, through them. Glory be. It’s good to be good. It’s also very nice to have scapegoats; people who do things so evil that you can feel great about hating them, and venting your own inner demon in their direction, thereby casting it out of you.
I didn’t make it to the end of the next video; I doubt even Gen. Flynn would manage to, on his most forgetful days, so don’t feel you have to wade through the whole thing to get the idea that you can pretty much throw anything at Gematria, and it sticks a variety of associative ideas together, in a psychoanalytic free-association type logic-free party for the mind.
The video above does demonstrate how Q thinking works, though, doesn’t it, pathetic as the results are, in terms of logical”proof” of anything, and it’s the same sort of associative thinking used in Qabalistic meditations, used for forging and exploring spiritual associations, on the paths that criss-cross the 10 nodes on the Qabalistic tree, describing the polarities in creation, echoed down below, on the earthly realm, from the spiritual, ideal realm above. The problem is, if you abandon logical thinking, you can end up almost anywhere, including the loony bin, if you aren’t careful. Perhaps this is just creative thinking, and a fanciful narrative over a bowl of whatever you like to put in your pipe of an evening, but some of the Q people took their wildest ideas quite seriously, was the impression I got, when they got the hump at people laughing at stuff like this, which is pretty tame, compared to some of the things I’ve heard Q followers say. At least flat earthers aren’t obsessed with blood and guts. They stick to being odd and irritating, rather than frightening and aggressive in their beliefs. Anything goes, though, when logic does, as anything’s possible, once the modern definition of science is chucked out.
Qabalistic study was not used for logic, really, at all, in our modern definitions of the term, but the Q posts, and the decoders, wanted to pretend it was all about logic, for them, while throwing random numbers into the thing, as though they had meaningful connections with the logical realm. The sheep loved the game, however, as it made the boring old field they were in rather more exciting, what with all this hidden stuff that you could scare yourself over, and go running around with the other sheep, baaahing about it. They’re still missing their shepherd Q, and the old herd, but the solution to missing something you didn’t have is pretending you did, and hanging onto the past, pretending it’s still a thing, when it isn’t. Logic, proof, justice, religion, shepherds, don’t count on any of them, if you don’t want to be a very disappointed and abandoned sheep, at the end of the day.
Mme. Sososstrus, the lady who never spells her name the same way twice, out and about, before going missing in action, with “Bad boy” Crowley.
Dear reader, I don’t want you to be too alarmed, but I must inform you that our beloved Mme. Soss, who we met recently at her energetic and ectoplasmagorific seance session, and have quickly grown to love in that special way one reserves for ones’ cult leader, has gone missing in action.
She’s a bundle of energy, so we have come to expect all kinds of energetic feats from her, but this one seems to be to be beyond the precipice, in terms of courting danger.
A missive left in my bedroom wardrobe, transmitted, like most of Mme. S’s missives, etherially, via automatically channeled communications, has arrived. Two actually. The first was an “Out of Office” message, in response to my request, last Friday, that she author the first issue of my Newsletter for me, since I would be too busy editing my blockbuster novel, in preparation for its release into the wilds of Amazon, shortly. That didn’t worry me too much, and I had my new secretary, Q, run up a short editorial piece for the maiden voyage of said newsletter, as Plan B. He’s good with plans, though I have to admit, I wondered whether he’d get it sent out on time, since he’s missed quite a few deadlines before, I noticed (I hired him mostly for his tea making abilities). I wasn’t too worried at first, and must admit, was thinking mostly of myself, rather than Mme. S’s safety, as I was unaware at the time of who she was spending the weekend with,and where she was headed. Imagine my shock, then, upon being informed, when my new secretary delivered the tea things to my study, as I set about my evening’s work, editing “The Q Affaire” for publication, and, while taking my first sip of his rather well made tea, (surprising, since I have rather severe doubts that Q is Irish, as he claims, so the tea should not be that good) that the rumour was Mme. S had been planning to abscond for the weekend with the abhorrent Mr. Crowley, a right little demon, if past rumours are anything to go by (and many do swear by rumours). This Mr. Crowley, though technically deceased, is said to be very much at still at large in the spirit world, and always circling, seeking out upstanding women to corrupt utterly. Q had won the confidence of Mme. Sossostrus, who is always putty in the hands of men who can wink charmingly, or tell pretty stories of the intellectual or poetic type, I noticed, and apparently she confided in him her weakening resolve in trying to resist Crowley’s Bad boy charms, before her disappearance.
I can hardly bear to think about it still, the shock on reading the missive shown above, that materialised in my wardrobe this morning. I had to get Q to decode it, before I could make any sense of it , but it’s clear she’s in over her head with Crowley, and was lucky to be able to convey a message to me without being detected via remote mind-reading, or penetrating insight of some other magical means, by the cunning Crowley with the silver tongue, that tempted her to travel abroad, with him her only escort. A poor choice, which one would think she might have spent longer pondering, since even the destination set all sorts of spiritual alarum bells ringing in the head. I largely blame myself, I must say, for leading her astray, and I see Crowley as merely a spirited opportunist, who leapt at the open portal when he saw his chance to jump on Mme. S, who he’s fancied getting his claws into for a while now, according to herself. Why am I to blame? Well, I was talking about volcanos a lot recently, and ziggarats, and Tarot, and generally going into the mystic a bit, and Mme. Soss gets easily enthused by such topics. Indeed, she dropped by several times to hold impromtu meetings of her new cult, The Order of The Heart, at my hearth, and, between the fire, and all the talk of volcanos, not to mention sacred shrines with snakes interred underground, and slithering about as shapeshifting rivers and Garden of Eden dwelling tempters, I fear the temptation was all to much for her adventurous side, and she gave in to her hedonistic impulses, and travelled to the volcano with him. Yes. That’s right. They went to the volcano together. I have a feeling she won’t be the same woman when she returns, but she’s full of surprises at the best of times, so we probably won’t be able to tell. I imagine she will though, even if it takes a while for the full story to emerge. I mean, would you be able to talk about it, straight after you had a week away at a volcanic eruption with the bold Mr. Crowley? I wouldn’t think so, somehow.
Update: She’s back. I’m glad of that, because not only was I worried about her getting a bit too close to the action, in Iceland, but I was also getting worried she might be too far from it, since she’d promised to edit this weekend’s edition of the Newsletter, and make herself available at the launch of the new TarotTime Team , over at the Etsy shop. She swept in yesterday, in fine fettle, ready for more fun, and soon the *ESQ method Tarot service was announced, in our snazzy new poster that Q threw some glitter and glue at, all available to initiates and non-initiated alike, at an out of this world low price. I even threw a coupon in the basket for new customers, I was in such a good mood, after being let use the glitter glue gun for a while. Mme. Sossostrus assures me that having glue stuck in your hair just makes the readings more auspicious, and downright fun, which sounds right to me, since anything Mme. S gets involved in always ends up being a lot of fun.
Mme. Sossostrus plans to update us further, in the Newsletter editorial, regarding what new things she learned in her travels last weekend, as well of a reminder of what we new initiates have learned to date, by means of another podcast this weekend, featuring her best bits (oh, I do hope we are up to it, but I’m by no means confident we will be!), as well as belting out the weekend Newletter for us. She’s all heart, that woman. You can order your Newletter here, if you can handle it. First issue guest authored by Q!
Yipee. It’s that day I’ve been looking forward to. My new book is out, and I’m so excited, because I get to celebrate down at Café Emerald (leaps out of bed, and flings open the curtains). Well, the sun isn’t exactly shining, but that just makes it sparklier, down at the café, so it’s all good.
Didn’t know I had a little cafe, did ya? Well, I have a lot of things tucked away in my imagination, and “The Q Woo” is just one of them, that we’re celebrating today. It’s like a birthday party, for a book, what we’re doing today. This is Part 2 of “The Q Affaire”, of course, but I’m publishing it as a volume on its own, today, in the gift shop (points to an area you hadn’t noticed before, as I pour you a nice hot beverage, at the best table in the house, and they’re all great tables!). I make things. Books, art, craft, anything pretty or interesting, that I think will be fun to do, I’m sure to give it a go. I’ve even had a go at doing an ad for my book (titters).
I’ve arranged the shelves nicely so you don’t even have to get out of your comfy seat to see all the bits and bobs (returns from behind the shelves somewhere with a plate of fresh croissants and jam for you, smiling).
(The Gift Shop, over there- points vaguely towards the back, at shelves with all sorts of interesting knick-knacks, plus that book that you’ve been waiting eagerly on. You salivate with interest, then notice that Donna has obligingly brought a copy of it to the table for you): DonnaEmeraldArt etsy.com
Here’s the blurb on the back cover of the latest one. I’ll read it for you, if you don’t want to let your croissants get cold before the butter and jam go on (adjusts reading glasses and reads):
What’s it about? Well, it’s a continuation of a comedy thriller I published recently, but I’ve brought in this new character, Q, that you didn’t get to meet personally, in the first book, and there’s romance, and comedy, and adventure, all rolled up in a big puzzle plot, and it’s all set on YouTube, and it’s terribly exciting, and funny, with lots of suspense, and thrills and spills. I put everything I like into it, just like I do with the other stuff in life, you know? Put in things you get a kick out of, and hope other people get a kick out of them as well, you get me? Of course it’s very deep too (puts on serious author face, not terribly convincingly). He he. It’s actually a pretty hard to follow plot, so I recommend the Backchannel Reading Room, over there, for those who are anywhere past, ooooh, Chapter 5. It’s nice and quiet in there, and very secret, so don’t tell anyone about it. You, dear reader, are a special customer, so you get the key (pulls out an ancient looking key from a devastatingly attractive but tastefully understated cleavage area, and displays its rusty elegance against a deliciously curved clavicle). There’s a fire in there, on chilly afternoons (you haul your eyes up to my face, thinking of fires and cleavages, for a moment, until comprehension dawns. I pretend to not notice I know what you were thinking, and look back at the book. as you blush. So, let’s read what the reviewers said about the ol’ bookie book, shall we? This is from the blurb at the back, as well:
I’ll leave you to enjoy your tea, coffee, cakey, musicy, bookie nice time, on your own for a while, and go look after the other customers. If you need a refill, just raise a hand absent-mindedly while reading, and I’ll be over without you missing a moment away from reading, or having to talk. Have fun, and get up and walk around whenever you want to think. WCs are in the Top Level Clearance Rooms, for Q clearance customers’ eyes only. Extra fluffy towels and fancy cologne for handies available there, dear reader. See you later. (Goes to say hello to other arrivals, seats them, and heads off to make more tea and coffee, and fiddle about with gift items people have been enthusing over while they get settled down with copies of the fabulously Fnordish looking new tome, hot off the always wonderful Ms. Emerald’s magical tablet.
I didn’t write the whole thing at the café, as some writers do, you know, because the beeps and other weird noises can put you off, but then again, I’ve made sure nothing in my cafe beeps, and the customers, being the type that love books, are delightfully quiet and civilised. There’s even a noise cancelling button you can press, under the table, if the music distracts you, and you just want Raindrops playing. In fact, come sunset, if you are still tucked away in a corner, reading, you will mostly just hear seagulls and waves, as you drift away yourself, into your imagination, watching the sun set from our balcony, over a last cup. I do hope you had a wonderful time, and that you enjoyed the day. I hope you enjoy the novel as much as the novel time we spent together, too.
Well, that was a nice day. Think I’ll watch the stars come out before I wash those dishes, and clear up after the book launch guests. No hurry, after all. (smiles, and pulls up a seat, with a last cup of tea, to end the day).
Yeah. I’m at it again. Writing another book. To be more specific, the second part of “The Q Affaire”, which recently hit my little shop’s shelves over here. The second part can be read as a stand alone novel, or as a follower-upper, as we used to say, on de mean streets of Dublin libraries, when we were scoping out those shelves like secret spies, peering through books, pacing the aisles in anticipation of some new thrills to keep us off those same mean streets, our collars turned up, and hat brims dripping puddles as we stalked the tiled flooring, searching out a comfy spot to slump, with brims pulled low, to hide out from the rain for a while.
Yes, you guessed it. Book two’s a little moodier in atmosphere than the first novel, with the first part a comedy thriller with some psychological twists guaranteed to melt your head with madness, as well as keeping you in a sub-hysterical state of mild giggles throughout. I think you’ll find the second part sucks you into the heart of the maze pretty quickly though, and presents many interesting puzzles, and you’ll be sorry when you finally find your way out again, at the end of the book, after being amazed and dazed, for at least some of the rest of it, I would think.
No more Q for you, though, after that. Two books are quite enough, and although Q tries to lead you through an endless maze of confusing twists and turns, and keep you lost, and puzzled, my job is to help you escape it, and give you a map of the territory. Take my tiny paw in yours, then, and we’ll claw our way in, before taking the journey to finding the keys that let us solve the puzzle, and get out in one piece again, but let’s start with an insight into how the book’s being constructed. I’m just hammering it out now, you see, and you might like to see how the thing’s being constructed. Big bits of paper are terribly important, you know. Very. Highlighters, fun, but not essential. Good ideas a must. Well, you probably know what a plan is already, but might glean something of the plot from the themes and metaphors I explain, while trying not to give away too much of the workings of the plotline, when discussing my creative process for writing the book, here.
Q pushers are starting to notice that there are big bits of paper everywhere, as they stalk the thriller section of the library aisles, while I take up the round table with my square papers.
The MuppetOfOz employs his handy Wafflinator , to foil rational conversation yet again, then departs confidently with his pals from the office, earing sparkling, to see if the latte post lunch is frothier than the breakfast one, which put him in the bit of a mood, to start with. pic.twitter.com/752VqP4MVI
I think you’ll find “The Q Woo” a lot hotter a read, a less stale bake, and certainly less hackneyed affaire than what Q has evolved into, in his second part, somehow. He’s got a oddly dragging gait these days, is distictly wooly smelling from being out in the rain, and generally looking a bit down on his luck. Don’t feel too sorry for him, though, as he’s still got some company, even if the birds don’t fancy him any more, a few coins in his pockets from last payday, and he still can parley vous oh la la the lads and ladies over on other platforms, admittedly in less salubrious surroundings. His rag tag band of patriots soldier on in their fantasy world, between snoozes, and manage to forget how wet their socks are, until the librarian moves them on, come closing time, with the rest of us. Where we go one, we go all, huh? Breathe in, on the way out, ‘cos you don’t want the smell of Q pressin’ up on you.
The first part of the book, which came out at the end of Nov., 2020, can be purchased here, in digital formats, with instant download. The next part I’m crowdsourcing funding for, to publish as one big blockbuster, comprised of the two volumes together, in paperback Kindle format, after part 2 is released as a digital version, for those who read part 1, over on Etsy. You can read about what the funding goes on, not just getting it to paperback, but getting that all important ISBN number, and other important bits and bobs, on the main post, over there. So, hopefully, there’s something to appeal to everyone, format wise, without having to go to the library in the rain, although, who knows, it may hit the shelves there, some time, too. “The Q Woo” will hopefully have reached the completion stage, anyway, with all editing done, by April, 2021, and I’ll be sure to let you know, here, too, when part 2 is available to read on Etsy. A big adventure for 2021. The next part of the adventure started here, and you’re in on it, like a secret library spy! Shush!!!!
“Watson, I simply must tell you, old man, the most extra-ordinary thing. You remember Moriarty dropped around yesterday, while I was at my pipe, poking around for information, as usual?” “Why, yes, um, yes, I do Mr. Holmes (hurumph) That awful man.Was he trying to find out why that attractive lady visitor was here yesterday? (thinks, pretty little thing, smiling).”
“Yes, and while he was trying to get information from me, I noticed something flew from his pocket as he retrieved his handkerchief, to blow that large snout of his in. It fell in the fire, as bad luck would have it, but I managed to distract him by cunning means, which, as you know, I’m a master of, and pointed out some new slides I’d obtained of dancing Gibson girls, at a side table. While he was busy rustling about in my intellectual mess, I reached quickly into the fire with a poker, and rescued this!”
“Oh, jolly well done, Holmes. Um, ah, what does it say? It’s rather scrappy and why’s it torn up?”
“Exactly, Watson! WHY IS IT TORN UP? It’s quite clearly something he doesn’t wish to get into the wrong hands, Probably intended to burn it himself, but doesn’t have a Mrs. Hudson about the place, to clear the fire out and light it, and such. I mean, he doesn’t have my charisma, and charm, when it comes to getting ladies to do things for you, when you want.”
“He he. Quite, Mr. Holmes (clears throat). Will Mrs. Hudson be serving buttered crumpets and tea soon, incidentally?”
“Try to concentrate for a moment, my friend, while we await the afternoon tea. This is a bona fide mystery, and I have been furiously playing my violin trying to cogitate on it. I believe I have decoded the document, after carefully unencrypting the scraps, and piecing the information together.” “Oh, really? What does it say, Holmes?”
“It’s an invitation, to a very secret affaire. That’s why he intended to destroy it. Allow me to read it to you.”
(Dramatic pause, while sounds of a teatray rattling downstairs can be heard)
“You are cordially invited to a “Portrait of Q” Art Auction Event, to celebrate Q’s favourite number, and the recent release of the new novel by Donna Emerald, “The Q Affaire”. This exclusive event has been arranged to thank customers who bought the book. Customers who bought the book are now eligible to bid on the only known portrait of Q in existence. Wish to own this beautiful Oil on paper portrait, signed by the artist, Donna Emerald? Then come along to the event where we officially party (and grift off Q) hard, via livestream, to open the one day bidding war in style, so you can start placing your bids on Etsy, and having fun in chat. This is your top secret Q clearance level invite, to the auction of the year, at 4.30pm GMT (check your coordinates, and synchronize your watches, for a zero delta) which promises to go down like an epic stQrm. Be there, or be square. Good luck, Q Patriots!”
“Goodness, Holmes. Q! Why the whole of London has been seeking him. They’ve been seeking him in Bankok and Mexico, too, with rumours of sightings from San Francisco to Moscow, and still he eludes us all, even Moriarty, who is not half so stupid as immediate appearances suggest.” “Yes, Watson. Someone knows his whereabouts, and someone wants to meet in secret. I’m rather curious to get a look at this Q character, finally, aren’t you? Where are my dressup costumes?”
(Door bursts open, making Watson jump, and Mrs. Hudson appears, panting heavily from the climb up the stairs with the teatray, laden down with tea and buttered crumpets, little pots of jam and sugar cubes, tiny milk pitcher of floral design etc.).
“Mrs. Hudson? We need to borrow your best dress. And bring me some glue, immediately.”
I bet you know a lot about Q by now, if you hang out in this bookshop much. We’ve got acres of pages written about him already, but did you know there’s a new Donna Emerald novel, too? Oh yessy, indeedy, and not only can you admire the artwork and sit on the squeaky leather seats under my reading lamps, considerately positioned on side tables with hot tea freshly poured at your elbow, while you peruse my journals, but there’s also an invite to a special auction, for special customers.
Q loves a good grift, so I feel sure he would approve heartily of my auctioning off the portrait I did of him while he performed “The Q Woo” for me, which you’ve no doubt read about in one of the journals at your elbow, or sliding from your lap, as you snooze in your cosy alcove, lulled by the ticking of the Q clock.
You see, Q doesn’t come ’round no more, and since he’s absconded rather hastily, from various parties hot on his heels, he’s left his portrait behind, much as he adored looking at himself. You’ll adore it too, dear reader, since he was a cutey, with nearly a whole tube of ceruleum blue used up, just to get those baby blues right, and two palette knives worn down in the chiseling of his cheeks. Wouldn’t you like this framed on yer bedroom walls, ladies? Or gents, wouldn’t this just make you feel like saluting, after waxing your mustachios and straightening your epulets? Yes Sir!
Now, I’ve never turned down a cash paying customer at my bookstore, and browsers are also more than welcome; after all, wasn’t it Donne who said..? “They also serve Who only stand and wait.” But honestly, some just come in and spoil the whole atmosphere, without even wiping the mud from the street off their shoes first. This lady kicked up such a fuss about that scandalous book, which she erroneously believed contained instructions for how to kill her (banish the thought!) that I thought I was Donne, but now I find that “When thou hast done, thou hast not done, For I have more…” Pardon my loquacity, but I do like my poetry and prose, and the muse can’t be stopped, even by elderlies, who imagine the plot is about them. Don’t fret, she will not darken the bookshop door again; the library will deliver the novel to her on a trolley, no doubt, instead:
So, you see, it promises to be a fun event, and when we reach our 17th customer (we’ve passed one of Q’s other favourite numbers, 10, recently, and shared a Q secret to celebrate that) we’ll let you know, because we value your custom, and want to find out which sherry you favour with which cheese, for the reception. That’s why your invite doesn’t have the date on it, just a big 17. It won’t be long now, though, so pencil it in, in your moleskin dairy. See you there, and thank you for your custom.
(Discretely nudges an interesting journal article on “The Q Affaire” towards you, to whet your appetite for the novel)
Oh, look, who’s this, droppin’ over to her place? Q himself, in deep, deep, disguise, in his “Jack” character. She must have left her groceries behind her, in aisle one, or somethin’, that he’s doing special home deliveries of the eggs she left behind, to her comments sections. So friendly, too, when he’s in the murder gang, that kill, according to her. Making omelettes from the broken eggs together, no doubt. Hope she has a few dozen in, as she’s got other friends with nowhere else to go, at the moment, too. They must have misbehaved in reading rooms, or something.
OMG! After a little turbulence, covered in the important decoding updates below ( don’t try to do this on your own, as decoding without paying a chartered Q expert can scramble your brain impulses forever), Q is back in force, and has a huuuuuge MOAB to drop. A whole book, “The Q Affaire”, which promises to make sense of everything, or die waiting. Read it, to keep trusting the plan ( holds grifting bucket out). Remember, Future proves past, and that sort of thing.
There’s been a lot of speculation around, about who is Q, where is Q, and what is Q? If you don’t know already, it might be too late, as rumour has it that Q is dead as a dodo, or at best, on his last legs. Some buzz still abounds on Twitter, however, and on the Tubes, as it’s said that Q and some of the team might be just taking a likkle break from the rigours of fighting the deep state, and the evil Cabal. Qdrops aren’t coming as thick and fast as they used to, but it seems Q’s movements are being reported, and the blockage in drops might be clearing at last, after a turbulent time on the move.
Some think Q is posting again, but he did say no outside comms. (see, I do follow Q!), so these latest drops seem a little dubious, for some reason. Perhaps I need to wait for a special decode, from a Q approved source.
Well, I’m not taking any chances. If I don’t see it where Q says it should be posted (no outside comms., as Q always sez), I won’t jump to any conclusions too hastily. It could be some joker messing about. Darn shills everywhere, and Q’s no laughing matter. As Q puts it, so well too, do your own research, and Question everything.
Anyone who read the strange story of my online romantic entanglement with the man who was insisting he is Q, the shadowy operative that is helping Trump from behind the scenes, will be eager to know if there were any new developments. Everyone loves a happy ending, or at least an ending that makes sense, and I’m here to give you some closure, dear reader. If you’ve no idea what I’m rambling on about, the best place to start is to read my last post, or just watch the movie of the mess that is the norm in my love life. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, but I hope you’ll find it entertaining, at least.
The cutie pictured here, it turns out, is a man called Ross Mills, although it took me a while to find out that the man claiming to be Q, who told me his real name was Jack Quinlan, wasn’t the man in the pictures he provided me, that he said were of him. Mr. Mills, it turns out, was a Rifleman in the A Company in The Royal Marines, pictured here in Helmand, Afganistan, in 2011. The photographer, Alison Baskerville won a portrait award for this piece, and I eventually found it online, using Bing instead of my usual search engines. Who knew Bing would ever return a decent search result? It seems “Jack” just has the same good taste in guys as myself, not surprising, since he made sure to find out as much as he possibly could about me, while we were having our little tête a têtes in Twitter. He told me little about himself, ‘cos he was waaay deep undercover, working for Trump, but he did tell me the following bit about his head injury, received in childhood, after which he became something of a prodigy, whose talents made him an indispensable asset to the NSA, and which enabled him to download to his mind all the information that would help him become the genius that created the puzzles which kept the internet solvers working away for years.
A retelling in YouTube comments of “Jack’s” story. From this video.
Life is full of surprises, and Jack had told a lot of tall tales over the course of the six months we were in a foxhole in Twitter Direct Messages together, so when it started to smell fairly funky in there, I started digging my way back up to the surface, but the more I questioned everything, as Q had reminded me to do, the more he leaned on me to keep quiet, telling me that enemies were everywhere, and if I stuck my head above the parapet, and shot my mouth off, that I wouldn’t make it out in one piece, as the whole QArmy would aim their weapons in my direction (helpful hint to guys, never tell a woman anything you don’t want the world to know, and for goodness sake, don’t tell her not to talk at all, particularly if you’ve p*ssed her off).
Having been somewhat involved in Discordian groups in Facebook, I was aware of the Cicada3301 puzzle, and through Jack became more familiar with some of the issues discussed in the Q posts. Jack liked a puzzle as much as I did, cross words being one of his favourite type of expressions in many of our comms., and he certainly gave me hell when I didn’t agree with everything that was said in the Qdrops.
Schrödy having a big ol’ time as Q, in my comment section.
He often pumped me for what I made of this or that post, or quizzed me about whether I had read and researched the links he’d provided in chat, asking me questions, sometimes telling me I’d failed or passed the test he’d set for me. I had my own test for him, after he’d provided me with photos he’d said he had taken inside the White House, on Christmas Eve (2018), some inside the Oval Office, others in the corridors, and North portico. Up until then, we had been talking on all sorts of topics, and puzzles were just one of his many interests, but after he threatened the wrath of the Q army descending upon me, when I didn’t seem to be getting down with the Plan convincingly enough for him, I took a look at some of the materials he gave me, and came to the inescapable conclusion that I had fallen prey to the man who likes a laugh at other people’s expense.
Certainly all roads seemed to point to Rome, or all fingers to Thomas. Time was running out for some of his special ops too, it seemed, if some of the videos exposing the players around him were to be believed.
A lot of folk on our end of the Tubes had been giving him the middle finger for a while now, but then he’s a guy that had a finger in a lot of pi[es] himself, so he’s hardly surprised that fingers are getting pointed in his direction now.
Now, while I wouldn’t have minded THIS guy’s fingers on me all that much (yep, one of the photos Jack/Q/John the titlover Thomas sent me, that he claimed were of himself [snorts with laughter at the idea of a man with a bod like this wanting to rub shoulders, or anything else against me without pressing the KILLSWITCH to UNBOLT, and fast!]), I’m not sure that Tricky Thomas would have scored such a hit. Pause and admire, ladies.
Thomas the Tank shows off his Q pants at the gym
Compare and contrast.
The avatar sometimes known as Schrödinger’s cat on YouTube, as well as a huge variety of other identities, in lots of places, is still weaving his magic and spinning it for all he’s worth, with new messages arriving from different accounts every time I open my Email, and of course, not forgetting the Skype account that appeared in my Contacts window, that segued before my eyes, from his Lion username into his imaginary NSA boss maggie mcrbee’s account, before finally settling into the ready for further use Your Name.
Your Name (previously maggie and Lion) last message on Skype before blocking
junoanon Email 22nd March 2019
I particularly like how consistent he’s being with his narrative, in the latest one, while making to disappear into the ether, but keep a bridge open for me, coming and going like a quantum rainbow cat (too many mixed metaphors? Licking a rainbow for too long’ll do that to you, and Q is the source of much confusion, which many are trying to get to the bottom to, coming up with various theories about who the Q team are), so I can hold handies and cross the rainbow bridge into the imaginary but colourful future with him. Maybe it’s just as well that the rainbow retreats as you approach it, after all; it’s tempting to live in dreams, when they are so sweet. But you don’t need 42 degrees to your name to figure out that there’s no such thing as a free lunch, and you must pay for your pleasures. In fact, you accused me of wanting payment for keeping my mouth shut about what you were up to. Oh, and don’t forget to bring a towel with you , on your travels, as you’ll probably need it. That road to the rainbow can be darn dusty, without a car. Even with, you’ll need to bring a gas can with you. Just in case.
The answer to everything with spelling mistake, unintentional [ON THE MOVE] Q
Bonus Material: A puzzle to help you combat that ever-lurking evening ennui., instead of the crosswords you often lose yourself in. With Thomas the forever young Time Traveller the time is sure to fly by. Can you help him find B, by 2020, so he can pop the Question? You would really be helping him out, ‘cos I get the distinct impression that he’s between girlfriends at the moment.
Jack’s been tweeting out my private DMs to him as well, to, wait for it, Potus (‘cos he’s Q, an’ all, and they work together, you know). His couple of followers? puzzlepalace, and, drumroll, Thomas. Guess he’s his own biggest fanclub, and still is pretty hung up on me. Some folks find it hard to let go.
In the interest of fairness, I should include Thomas’s interview about the matter of Jack/Q. To sum up, in brief, he knows the guy’s name, is in contact with him, is fine with him, and wants to prove the Emails are from different addresses, was my take on it. But watch it for yourself, and make like Q. Question everything, and eat your hat if you’re wrong about predictions (well, no, I don’t think Q ever said that, I just made it up now).
Thomas’s recent tweets that signalled the start of the smear campaign he promised (see has comments below this post), have been deleted by him, as a conciliatory gesture, and the truce declared. Let’s hope that Q comes out of the foxhole and gives up soon too.
Latest update, Nov., 2019: Jack finally admits he’s Thomas, in his Schoenberger ‘s cat avatar, under one of Thomas’s videos! He says he doesn’t care who knows it, so now you know. Who cares?
More comments Jack made under the same video (original video on which comments appeared linked in the previous image, above) This video with a selection of the comments is from the channel of the husband of the woman he is commenting about.
Others are enjoying the idea of Thomas being a bit of a crazy cat guy, too, and came up with their own imaginative ideas of how Thomas the cat might look, while scampering about over the keys, typing away in comments. The link ends in an 8. Jack’s lucky number! Do the happy dance there, puss.
Everyone’s wondering who Q is, while I’m wondering who the guy I was having an online relationship with for the last six month is. I still don’t know for sure, but he’s always maintained to me that he’s Q, the anonymous poster on 8Chan, said to be working with Trump, to educate the MAGAs as to what shenanigans are going on behind the curtains that we don’t usually get to peep behind. This guy turned up on my YouTube channel last year, and was quite the charmer. We headed off into the sunset, towards the Twitter machine, to talk, and we got to know each other a lot better. To be fair, he found out far, far more about me, than he told me about himself (for security reasons, of course). He did tell me, however, that his name was Jack Quinlan, (using middle name instead of first name, ‘cos he was deep, deep undercover, working with the President, to bring down the evil deep state cabal).
I talk about the grand finale to my big online relationship with the man that calls himself Q, in this livestream, and the great man himself joins me, to give his side of the story, and react to my allegations. Expect to see photos of the cutie that calls himself Q, and hear some inside gossip about what we got up to in our virtual relationship. I also discuss some of the biggest fibs he’s ever told, including those White House photos he gave me from the important meeting he had with the President in The Oval Office, last Christmas Eve, that Q and friends made such a big palava about, and drove the Qposts fans mad with delight. I discuss how we had that little lover’s tiff when it turned out the photos were faked, and how I found out a lot of what he was up to was built on a series of interlocking lies, and how I struggled to put the picture together of the man, in order to make my way out of the rabbit holes he dug for me. Maybe he’s right, I’m just the jealous type, but I do believe that honesty is always the best policy. There was a bit of cursing in this next video, ‘cos I was arguing with him in chat, suspecting all sorts of rats in the foxhole, and starting to put info out about what I thought he was at, and bout the threat he’d made about those QAnons coming after me, armed with all sorts of info, to help them target me for their attentions, sent by Q.
Jack Quinlan/Q uses the Stonehenge Puzzle Email address, which has never been traced to anyone before, and also claims responsibility for the original John Titor posts (I’m sure his last online squeeze, Pamela Moore, who never got to meet him in real life either, but was as familiar with the heartache of an online relationship as me, will take an interest in the photos of him which he provided to me, in place of any plan to actually meet me in person). I discuss these and other aspects of the strange relationship we conducted on the internet, including the threats he made to bring the wrath of the QArmy against me, should I fall out of step with the march he was trying to set the pace for.
Jack Quinlan/Q [?] in Afghanistan [second photo – Solved. Photographer credit here]
I did fall rather out of line, in this video, and broke the silence to share some of his information with my viewers. I shared about Q, and other mysteries of the internet, far too much to cover in one post, but at least I’ve managed to explain the tip of the iceberg in this stream.
Jack scrambled into damage limitation mode after the photos conversation, and kept asking me what else did I know about him? Seemed quite rattled, actually, which I was not too guilty about, since he’d threatened me previously with the wrath of an online army of loyal Q followers. I still don’t really know whether the guy I was having the relationship with online is actually this guy, who referred to himself as Jack Quinlan, saying that was his real name, kept secret to protect Q’s identity, but if it isn’t, I’m sure this guy will be pretty cheesed off his photos have been whipped, appropriated by Q, or whoever the hell that person I was in love with actually is. Whoever you are, I’d still rate you a 12 out of 10 in the cute department! But don’t contact me online. I think I’ll give online relationships a miss from now on. But if you want any of this guy’s contact details, he’s still reachable at the following places, as well as being keen for people to Email him.
A selection of Jack Quinlan’s Twitter Accounts; some others he posted under when he took these down frequently were @schrQdingerscat, @tinkertailQr, @thestQrrn @airamdoc @thestorm [no wonder he chose Schrodinger’s cat as one of his YouTube avatar names, as he has so many lives!]
Jack Quinlan/Q at Lympstone Commando Training Centre, Wales [fourth photo – still unsolved]
Bye Jack. I think we’ve finally come to the end of our fling now. Consider this your Dear John letter. I’ll always treasure our special time together. I’ll probably throw out the cockroach book you sent me after you were blocked on my social media accounts, but I’ll cherish the keepsakes and have the photos you supplied to keep our virtual memories alive.
(Takes last lingering look at photos, wipes a tear away, and shuffles off to make a cup of tea, slamming cabinet door. BOOM!). I’m sure your Q friends can help you get over the break-up. I see you popped over to a buddy’s channel directly after I ended the stream, to cry on his shoulder, and manage the situation. Gosh, I hope your top level security clearance isn’t too compromised. You sound so worried. Oh well, I’m sure you’ll get over it. I know I will, after I calm down. After all, no point fighting over a storm in a teacup. And a cup of tea fixes everything (finds teabags, and proceeds to pour).
Update: New developments. Find out who the mystery man really is, in my next post, plus more exciting finds……..