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The Devil Wears Anything But Hypocrisy: Lived So As You Stare At Me
A Satirical Screenplay for the Judgmental Age
Preface
Inspired by the unapologetic wit of Meryl Streep, the raw honesty of everyday rebels, and the relentless absurdity of modern life, this book flips the script on hypocrisy, power, and the twisted game of judgment. This isn’t a story, it’s life narrated, roasted, and served with a side of “Did they really just say that?” If you’re here for a fairy tale, keep walking. If you’re here for the truth—ugly, hilarious, and unfiltered—pull up a chair.
Gospel According to Remix
Every church claims they’ve got the “real truth,” but half the time, they’re just remixing the same commandments like it’s a Spotify playlist for the Pope’s afterparty. One church bans dancing—unless you slip the pastor a little extra in the collection plate. The Bible says all sins are equal, so if you forgot to call your mother, congratulations—you’re in the same club as murderers. Hope you like snoring, because your new roommate is Adolf, and he hogs the covers.
Sin Club—Membership Has Its Privileges
“All sins are equal” means everyone’s in the same club—murderers, mama’s boys, and you, who forgot to call your mom on Mother’s Day. Maybe one of those churches is just full of kids who forgot to call their moms. Hope you like snoring, because your new roommate is Adolf, and he hogs the covers.
Jesus, Take the Wheel (and the GPS)
When Carrie Underwood asked Jesus to take the wheel, maybe that’s all the Bible was supposed to be about—reminding people they’re not in control of the destination, and everybody’s journey is different. Not everyone gets a GPS—some people get lost, but that doesn’t mean they’re not headed to the same goddamn location.
Thou Shalt Not Translate (Perfectly)
The Bible was written in a language nobody could translate perfectly. Just like you can’t translate someone’s life and claim you understand it unless you’ve lived it. Maybe the Bible is more metaphor than manual. It says no one sin is greater than another—forgetting to call your mother, honoring your father, or, you know, murder. All equal in the eyes of the Lord. So don’t judge each other. The rest of the Bible? It’s mostly people talking about judgment while still doing the same crap in secret.
Whammy, Double Whammy, and the Illusion of Free Will
If you go through life dick-first, treating people like crap, all you’re doing is putting a veil over their eyes so they can’t see any love—even if it’s right in front of them. When you start with no love, your options aren’t “good” or “bad”—they’re whammy and double whammy. That’s not a choice, that’s a rigged game show. Two doors, both with a very messed-up mole getting whacked, Monty Hall style. If you think that’s free will, you’ve been watching too much Bird Box.
Church Politics and Carpet Wars
Choir lady’s gossiping? That’s “fellowship.” Show up with a tattoo? Suddenly you’re the Antichrist with a nose ring. They preach “love thy neighbor,” but split the congregation over the color of the new carpet. If Jesus came back today looking like he just clocked out of a skate park, they’d call security before they called him “Lord.”
Cartels, Gangs, and Holy Airbnbs
Cartels and gangs talk about “unity” and “protecting the kids,” but half the time they’re fighting over who gets the last slice of pizza at the meeting. They rescue people from the bad guys, then turn around and charge them rent. That’s not liberation, that’s just running a really aggressive Airbnb.
Blue Badges and Donut Diplomacy
Police, oh, you shiny-badged wizards of traffic stops. Your badge isn’t a magic wand—it’s a coupon for free donuts and a lifetime supply of attitude. Without that badge, you’re just a guy who peaked at the high school pep rally. You say you “protect and serve,” but half the time, you’re just protecting your own egos and serving up more paperwork than a DMV on Monday morning.
Military Branches: A Dysfunctional Family Reunion
Army: First in, last to realize the GPS was upside down.
Navy: Spends seven months at sea, comes home, and gets lost in the mall parking lot.
Marines: If it moves, salute it. If it doesn’t, paint it. If it’s pretty, marry it. If it’s ugly, challenge it to push-ups.
Air Force: Deploys to five-star hotels and calls it “combat.” The only thing they’ve bombed is the hotel breakfast buffet.
Coast Guard: Gets seasick in a bathtub and cries when the waves are “too spicy.”
Space Force: Still waiting for their first alien DUI checkpoint. Right now, they’re the Air Force’s weird cousin who wears tinfoil hats at Thanksgiving.
Alphabet Soup and the Lunchroom Heist
FBI, DEA, ATF, ICE… the only people who can make the DMV look like a model of efficiency. If you all teamed up, maybe you’d finally solve the mystery of who keeps stealing everyone’s lunch from the break room. (Spoiler: It’s still the Coast Guard.)
Supreme Court Fossils and Secret Recipes
Clarence Thomas, you’ve been on the Supreme Court so long you’re not just a judge—you’re practically a fossilized legal opinion. If “going white” was a job, you’d be Employee of the Century. The real issue is the “Nope” word, and Clarence, you’ve turned “not listening” into a full-blown lifestyle brand.
Billionaires, Bots, and the Circus of Clowns
Elon—oh, Elon. You think you have the right to everyone’s privates. Maybe that’s why you bought Twitter—you thought “X” marked the spot! You can silence people’s right to speak, but when it comes to getting things to actually work, well—let’s just say your rockets aren’t the only things that have trouble launching!
Trump’s not Orphan Annie, but with those Daddy Issues, he’s got more in common with Daddy Warbucks than he thinks.
Zuckerberg, you precious little cyborg. You spent hundreds of millions on a doomsday bunker in Hawaii, but I’m still out here doing amazing things without even leaving my chair.
Simon Cowell, you wanted to rate me a one out of ten? That’s cute. But when I show up, I am the scale.
Censored Seas—The Freedom of Speech That Isn’t
Freedom of speech is like singing underwater with a Wi-Fi password you don’t have. The government says, “You’re free to say anything”—except the stuff they don’t want you to say. Your posts disappear faster than socks in a dryer. Your hot takes? Ghosted. Your hashtags? Shadowbanned. Your voice? Lost in the algorithm abyss.
Love Bars, Dating Scars—The Relationship Relay Race
We tell kids they can’t date, but expect them to magically become experts in love. We warn them about toxic relationships, but don’t let them practice with the training wheels on. Then we’re shocked when they cannonball into the first romance that says “hi” and treat red flags like carnival prizes. Instead of teaching them to raise the bar, we either put it behind them, trip them with it, or just beat them over the head with it for good measure.
The Judgmental Crowd—A Roast for the Harper Valley High Horses
Let’s talk about those Harper Valley jackasses—the ones who sit on their high horses, judging every parent who doesn’t fit their perfectly pressed PTA mold. They act like the PTA is the Supreme Court of Morality, but let’s be real: if they’re the jury, I’d rather take my chances with Judge Judy and a rabid raccoon.
Mafia Hugs—When “Thugs” Just Need a Snuggle
These so-called mafias calling themselves “thugs”? All I see is a bunch of people who’ve either been sacrificed too many hugs or are out here sacrificing hugs of their own, trying to look tough. The real crime isn’t racketeering—it’s emotional constipation.
Who’s Bending Over for the CIA First?
Sheriff vs. Cartel—A Strictly Backwards Showdown
Who’s going to bend over for the CIA first—the sheriff or the cartel? Car-tell me why, or did I stutter? In this episode of “CSI: Can’t Solve It,” we’ve got missing officers, a command center full of chaos, and a cast of characters who flop harder than a tuna out of water.
Livepool vs. The Surveillance Circus—No Privacy, No Chill
Congress is still obsessed with my vagina. They offered Mila Kunis’s husband’s penis as a peace treaty again. At this point, Ashton’s junk has more screen time than C-SPAN. Mila’s probably wondering if she should start charging Congress for product placement.
Government Agent:
Ma’am, we just want to ensure national security. Your search history raised some flags.
Livepool:
Flags? The only thing flagged here is your inability to pass a privacy bill. And by the way, stop putting hits out on Mariska Hargitay’s kid. That’s not national security, that’s a damn episode of Law & Order: SVU nobody signed up for.
Agent:
That was an administrative error. We thought we were sending a fruit basket.
Livepool:
Fruit basket? You’re sending death threats wrapped in a bow. Maybe next time, send a “Get Out of Surveillance Free” card instead.
And while we’re at it, Eminem—yeah, you—stop trying to speak for me. I don’t need an MC. I’m not sitting inside anyone’s butthole, thank you very much. Your “Mockingbird” ended years ago, and guess what? I’m still here, still speaking my truth, no ghostwriter needed.
Mila Kunis:
Hey, Livepool, if Congress offers you my husband’s penis one more time, just tell them he’s busy filming a sequel to “Dude, Where’s My Privacy?”
Livepool:
Girl, I’m thinking of trademarking “Congressional Penis Offer” as a new insult.
Ever wonder why your posts vanish? Because the algorithm’s got a blacklist longer than Congress’s list of promises. Want to shout about injustice? Nope. Want to ask questions? Flagged for review. Want to be part of the conversation? Sorry, you’re stuck in the silent stream.
In this upside-down world, freedom of speech is a song only a few get to hear. But remember—mermaids get their voice back eventually. Until then, keep singing. Keep pushing. Because one day, your words will make waves big enough to drown out the noise.
This is exactly what I mean by privacy act. So when I told you Private Benjamin ain't me, that's 'cause she stayed i left
