Putin, God over the Letter Body
“Epistle's Erudition” is the opening paragraph.
Precious, you now know I love Me more than you. Because I love Me so much I open power to you. This one last time, Putin. Come Christmas 2026, yea next year, if I Am not dripping in jewels or the fabulous fleshly spoils of warfare command directly enriching My life with money and soldiers, you go to Hell. No metaphors Putin: the real McCoy of ownership and duty, not the Spirit Shit Crap.
Do that wonderful voodoo that you do so well Putin to keep yourself from going to Hell on your death. The clock starts ticking Boxing Day evening 2025. This keeps some mystery open for Me to enter Russia under our former provisions, or whatever other crazy commitments are out there. The OWG provision is still on the table and this of course allows God to be real cruel and shitty with My blessing should you be a Jonah on this opportunity. I suggest you do your voodoo Putin. Refusing to do the God shit interactions that make others in the MEGA Cloud provide for Me puts it in Hell and opens the doors to nasty in the way that God was not allowed to do for the Noah's flood event. This is like saying God regretted creating mankind because He could only kill them not mutilate them eternally. God wants mutilation, I want money. We are at odds. We set you up so he could mutilate and I Am free of all the shit for global shut-down 2026.
To fulfil this, you can make Me the Kremlin Priest and just endure how I drive forward Russia's greatness wiping out that foul Orthodoxy and those shit JW's yada yada yada. Or you can up your game in the Divine making the people of the United States the actors that push Me into My military command, proper, in combat. You can also manipulate the English, Germans, French, or Japanese to take me as a citizen granting Me asylum, a stipend, and freeing Me from this fuck-hole with a €5,000,000.00 Freedom package a new passport and diplomatic privileges as well. You have until noon day Christmas 2026 to make this a physical reality in lieu of My warfare command over the United States Marine Corps. My preference is that fifth star! You don't arrange that fifth star for Me Putin, and God will rearrange them all. It's a lovely arrangement should the asylum arrangement come to pass. We keep the stars in their spheres should you arrange My honours in the USMC. Come 2026, you did nothing, you head to Hell for the fulfilment to go down that you Jonah'd out of.
