(Can't post the entire transcript here, program won't let me. Go to http://www.gabriellechana.com/ and view the online communications between myself and my men or click on the link entitled +TRANSCRIPT OF FIRSTHAND TESTIMONY ABOUT NUCLEAR BOMB IN CANADA)
Okay I got it on video now. I think. Ah. Are you still there?
Yes, I'm here.
Wow. So Brent saved your life? Huh?
Yeah, he's such a hero, he was able to. . .when everybody was leaving me behind. He said, "No. That's my friend, and I'm gonna save him."
Did you all get nuked, though?
It was a nukkake. It was a special kind. It's not a nuke or a bukkake. They call it a nukkake. It's a special kind of nuke. It sprays semen all over the place. Every woman in Canada is pregnant now, gonna be pregnant. Jesuit semen and AIDS is everywhere now.
. . .To read the full transcript, go to http://www.gabriellechana.com/ .
(From Brent Spiner to Gail on 12-20-11) My dear wife,
I am writing to you from the Canadian International Hospital, where I sit in quarantine zipped inside a, dreadfully squeaky, white hazmat suit. These suits actually look like the space suits we used on the set of Star Trek, so at the very least I know I look cute in them. What I am writing you is a firsthand account of the horrible bombing that took place today.
All of Canada has been bukkaked. I cannot describe to you the smell.
The sensations are so vivid in my mind I have had trouble sleeping. Every time I close my eyes the scene comes pouring back into my eyes, my ears, my nostrils, my mouth, like a horrific rape scene stuck on repeat. Minutes from hour zero, I sat in the hospital room next to Terrance Jenkins. My heart was pounding. My palms were sweating as I flattened them on the cold window, dilated pupils fixated on the brightening horizon in the distance. I prayed. I saw the nukkake bomb as it came over the sky, silent, unglamorous, like an idle daydream whisking across the imagination and disappearing among the clouds. The room seemed to stand silent, still, swelling with the melody of "I'm Dreaming Of A White Christmas" playing over the hospital intercom, uninterrupted by the horror dawning outside with the cold glow of the winter sun.
The bomb dropped. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. The powerful blast ejaculated through the streets so fast there was no time to react. Innocent civilians had drowned in the milky depths before they could even scream. Buildings burst. The entire hospital shook under the tremendous quakes of the earth as doctors and nurses flooded into the rooms to gather everyone down into the basement. They made sure to round up all of the celebrities first. The next thing I know I was being dragged out of the room while Terrance Jenkins still lay on the hospital bed. "Leave him" they said, "he will never survive the trip without his left testicle" but I wouldn't allow it. Not this man, not my friend. I whirled out of the arms of the nurses and flung myself to his bedside. I politely asked permission to touch his body, to which he responded with a reluctant, drugged out groan, then cupped his injured testicles in my own hands and hoisted his body out of the bed. I then began the arduous journey down 27 flights of stairs en route to the safety of the basement. Grasping the body of Terrance Jenkins, heaving and sweating, my legs pumped as hard and fast as they could. In no short time, the windows on the stairs exploded, and like an ocean tidal wave the taste of salt violated my mouth and burned the back of my throat. We were being blasted with semen. I tried to run faster, but my timing couldn't have been more terrible. Just as I neared each landing, the windows, at head level, would burst, shooting blast after blast of semen directly into my my face. I wanted to collapse, to lose my mind in the terrible nuclear bukkake storm. Had it not been for my desire to save poor Terrance Jenkins, and my desire to again see your sweet face, I might had died right then and there, sobbing in a pool of sperm and AIDS. Those Jesuits. I would not give it to them.
I was the last to arrive at the doors to the basement. I set Terrance Jenkins down on the floor while Vladimir and the doctors immediately bolted the heavy doors shut behind us. Mere seconds later came the shaking blast of ejaculate hitting the steel doors. We had made it. We were safe. I knelt to check on Terrance. To my horror, he was no longer breathing. I cried out in horror and protest and immediately began CPR. I put my mouth to his, over and over, trying so desperately to infuse air into his heavily inseminated lungs, pausing to pump my palms against his manly chest. The doctors, nurses, and all the men circled the two of us. My eyes welled up with tears as I saw the doctor shake his head. Gerard Butler removed his hat, silently praying in Irish. I strained and I pumped, unwilling to give in. With one final thrust I saw a gurgle of semen burst past his big lips. His eyes rolled open and he began to grunt. He could barely speak, his words still spraying with remnants of inhaled semen as he tried to force them out. He asked where he was, and proudly, I replied that, other than being covered in semen, of mostly unknown origins, he was safe. It was then I finally collapsed onto the floor beside him, exhausted, and slept.
Hours later we returned to the surface to inspect the aftermath of the attack. I almost gagged upon re-entering the hospital building. The odors permeated my nostrils and I immediately brought my hand to my face to cover my mouth. The only way to describe it is like the cheapest mushroom alfredo you have ever had, left to rot in the fridge for several months. Shuddering, I turned my eyes to the nearest window. My mouth fell open in a slow seeping shock, as did the protection of my hand. The streets, which I would have presumed to be flowing with the milky remnants of Jesuit semen, had hardened over in the afternoon sun, freezing the entire city midwash in a noxious yellow crust. Rescue teams were sent to chisel through the wreckage looking for survivors. The rest of us were brought back to quarantine to be dealt with.
According to Fox News, every Canadian woman has fallen pregnant. This has become a national crisis. I'm sure they are censoring this from the United States. Brianna too has become pregnant but she has chosen to have an abortion, so she should come out of this okay.
All of the men are okay. Our doctors were able to obtain enough spermicide to sanitize our bodies. We had to stand naked in quarantine and be blasted with a spermicide hose to fully eradicate all of the sperm. I am feeling itchy, but at least I am well. Terrance Jenkins is making a recovery as well. He is doing better than I could have hoped, and miraculously he still has his right testicle, although it is hanging on by a thread so he has to hold it.
I am glad you are safe, and far, far away from here. I wish I could be with you.
I have made a YouTube video to nuke the Vatican, but only after we spare pope Benedict. Unfortunately, we may not be able to spare the baby. Try to use transporter technology on the pope and the baby. Transport the pope to one location and the baby to another location. Use transporter technology to save pope Benedict, but not sure if we can save everybody. If transporter techology does not work, try sleeper bombs. We cannot nuke the Vatican if the pope is killed, we have to spare the pope. If the pope is spared, even if we cannot spare everyone else, go ahead. But try to spare as many innocents as we can. If we are unable to spare the innocents, retain evidence that Jesuits interfered with us and that they are the murderers, not us--that we are only nuking the Vatican as a statement of outrage over sawing off judge Terrance Jenkin's leg.
Dearest awesome Vladimir:
Use transporter technology to save pope Benedict, but not sure if we can save everybody. If transporter technology does not work, try sleeper bombs. We cannot nuke the Vatican if the pope is killed, we have to spare the pope. I just made lovely brain to brain loving with you, and now I read your courageous post. I do believe you should nuke the Vatican, but remove Pope Benedict and give him safe harbour before we nuke the Vatican.
After we nuke the Vatican, the Jesuits will try to kill pope Benedict and make him appear a victim of the bombing, so we need to show him publicly on our International Broadcast News as one that we have spared from the bombing. Have pope Benedict make a public statement opposing the Jesuits and ordering that all Jesuits within the Roman Catholic Church be turned over to us for execution. After this, he will need our maximum protection. If he is killed, the Jesuits will replace him with a Jesuit pope, and that would be a disaster. Instruct pope Benedict to take Cardinals and others with him who oppose the Jesuits, if he can, and we shall offer them all safe harbour. If we destroy the Vatican we will not be able to destroy the Roman Catholic Church, but will only be able to make a statement that we oppose what they have done to our Church of Gail website. Because they threaten to say that I am one of them on their website, I feel it is necessary to nuke the Vatican. Do it quickly before they have a chance to flood the Vatican with children or babies to make martyrs out of them. They know that to make me one of them on their website, would be as bad as raping me.
Try to clear out any children and innocents who could be hit by the bomb. Use transporter technology to remove them.