DAUGHTER
CODE-U-TUBE, with or without the chases.
July
17, 2011
“THE
CAT LOVES HIS DAUGHTER”
DID
THIS WITHOUT HELP FROM NICK: WOW.
Y SHOULDN'T A DOG LIVE IN A DOGHOUSE?
mountainpenagain
posted on Feb 18, 2009 | views: 37 | Tags: thanksgiving
siege right on target
REPOSTED
STILL AGAIN ON 09/10/2012, HAPPY BIRTHDAY
MY AWESOME SARAH-STACEY, SIXTEEN YEARS OLD FOREVER. WOW.
“Y
SHOUDN’T A DOG LIVE IN A DOGHOUSE”
(The epitome of harassment, internet version)
(The millionth-council and me)
(Morianity project continues from 1995 on tape)
DATFILE: 021809.951
Beginning Transmission:
I liked it a lot more when my computer was a lot simpler, but genius Ed Himacane made some major changes when he was last over, and programs run and stuff happens, and it is a pain in the rear end 4 me, the freaking sweeper keeps signaling me and stopping the word program every minute, and also the WOMO gave me a bowel hit a little while back around 9 or just past. Now this pain in my ass computer crap is not stopping, I have tried shutting down, restarting, nothing stops it, some fucking worm is in this, the sweeper will not stop popping on and yet all of this has been swept. Well, guess Eddie will B coming back over. Someday I will prove I am being messed with somehow and take this straight 2 the ACLU and the FBI, cannot blog further until I get 2 the fucking bottom of this spy sweeper problem. All I can do is keep fucking with this thing, let it re-sweep and multitask, the gods; all I wanna' do is blog Ed, what have U done 2 me with all this complex shit? I am not looking 2 run a 20 tera byte system, just 2 do a little blogging 4 crissake. Aniwho, MCMCAAONMC, I guess that is all the dumb machine wanted, just to sweep again, as it is not signaling me and stopping the word program every 20 seconds, PTL--PR. Miss cunt face tried 2 wipe me out, have to shit my eyes a couple minutes now, or that crumb’ll nail me 4 sure. OK, now it is eleven thirteen. I will NEVER FORGIVE OR FORGET that horrid night, back in 1993; at the Atlanta Braves Ballpark, Jane. What U did 2 me was so despicable, it would stink right through a garden of flowers 8 light years cubed. Anyway I am not in a doghouse, I am in a far worse house, and have so much 2 tell y’all it sucks wind backwards at the speed of sound. Where 2 begin is always my biggest problem, as I never will have the time I need 2 really write anywhere near all that I feel is necessary; in order 2 reveal my major plight 2 this evil world in sufficient amounts, so as 2 get anyone with clout 2 ever take pity on me, and assist me in getting 2 the bottom of my hellish nightmare woes. Actually, if the top most powerful persons on the Earth all decided 2 help me, they would fail. That is how gargantuan my troubles really R BRO, Twinbay, and all others. I am not a pessimist Missy, and U read me all wrong that day at the Galloway, New Jersey Library. But nothing ever just happens and no one will understand what I know in its fullness, not Christians, not atheists, not scientists, not sci-fi buffs, not Catholics, not even Eckists, Monks, Buddhists, and U name it, as nobody sees in total clarity, what is real; nobody. The reason that all things appear 2B in some weird and indistinguishable code of jumbled randoms, beyond any possible human recognition; is because we believe whole heartedly, and take a powerful Copperfield illusion, totally seriously; that a projection around us is there and real, when in fact; nothing beyond our center of is-ness of being can B. This of course is simply because, as any possible space extends out beyond our innermost self, time brings it all back right into us in a circulation system of perfect and precise ratio and proportion, that is all a part of the mechanics of a hypersphere, or an upline thought wave in a down-lining process; and this is truth. Refreshing old blogs, 4 new Blogauds, that will most likely not go back, and sift through the long-winded Mountainpen discourses of Morianity, and its teachings; there is a truth that is real to itself, and the Buddhists R not correct that all truth is alterable and relative, to what an inner self makes it, until it eventually comes 2 realize that it is not really there 2 start with. This is all so true in a small box, but it leaves out what the great Atlantic City alchemist told me back in the summer-time of 1974, while I was staying overnight at a rooming house, owned by a lady named Selena Dada, on Stenton Place, between Atlantic and Pacific Avenues. The ultimate truth IS zero dimension. This nothingness somehow DOES exist, and IS aware of itself; and cannot find a way 2 shut off that awareness. It does learn 2 dream out and away from itself into phase two reality, or the Astral Plane; or the Shakespearean arena of the great dream shift, that mortals call the spirit world or realm. Some entity connected with the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL will not stop this fucking hacking, the sweep finished, and now the prompt keeps popping up again, so Ed will come over and get 2 the bottom of this fucking shit once and 4 all. 4 right now, I must live with this, as I have now lived for two days with no telephone service that I am legally paying 4, and I am gonna' contact the BOARD OF PUBLIC UTILITIES, no peace 4 a second ever, not on the weekends in that hell job, and now my entire weeks R wrecked. It is round the clock, with no let up, and not a moments peace 4 life, right WPIX-1988-New York, New York, UFO THE COVER UP TV SHOW, AGENT CONDOR AND AGENT FALCON? Talk about never forgetting things like dirty rotten Jane in 1993, or this show on channel 11, NYNY, back in 1988. U don’t forget major shit that goes down in your life, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!! It never stops, it never backs off. Committing suicide only serves 2 make it worse 4 me, as I know it is all an illusion, and that I will just find myself right back in the same dream, like running 4 the light, and the light won’t go on, and realizing that U never woke up, and now U finally have; so again U jump out of bed and run 4 the light, and then again it does not go on, and I have gone through this nightmare 4 monstrous lengthy amounts of time, or whatever is really happening; just as I have existed forever and will; and I KNOW IT. I slit my wrists last night at 3 in the morning, and slowly bled out right here on my bed. It is so way cool 2 bleed out, and feel the life going out of U, as U get icy cold; and begin 2 fade away, believing as hard as U can that it will all B over in a moment, just as Skylar Rumson was told by Barnabas Collins, when he forced him 2 shoot himself through the heart; on the television show, 'DARK SHADOWS'. Only 4 me, I keep waking up and thinking I am dying; and have not yet died, and then die; and then wake up again and again, until eventually, I wake up, and the entire thing was just a dream, but then; I am aware totally, that all of this is just an astral dream down, and even that is a dream away from the truth; or the great void of zero dimensional existence; something no human being can fathom. Some of these mighty truths were once up online on a website called, www.morianity-foundation.com/ but this site is now defunct, as Kate and I do not have any money; nor any new material 2 copyright presently, on the subject thereof. I am aware that free sites exist, and Ed will B working on finding me one; and getting this foundation, and its many powerful truths, back up 4 this blind ignorant planet, and its residents 2C and know. At least this world will have the truth. The only good thing now, is that this stupid fucking pop up can shoot up every 20 seconds or so; and eventually go off, and it is not stopping the word program until I click on it.
Long story short, the mail was always delivered here at this lovely 6-9 room place, with rooms that all sort of go into each other, with no hallways; and just endless first days of summer of 2008, and a powerful goddess that has been chasing me around 4 all infinity now; but mail was always delivered here at about 10:30 AM, until about last weekend give or take, and now it is coming sporadically and never B4 3 or so in the afternoon. King Dawn the Queen, formerly and always known by, PRINCE; asked me 2 call the Post Office, and C if I can find out what is up with the mail around here, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I reminded her what she wanted me 2 use 4 a telephone. She said, 'use the house phone that they have on their Comcast Cable system' that also runs my internet, and we split the package deal bill between us. Still, I reminded her that I did not have the number 4 the Post Office, even though I invented the thing a very long time ago. She always tells me how expensive it is on their Comcast plan, 2 call the service information operator. Her mom AKS, looked up the number in some book they finally found; a personal book of numbers and they had the local Post Office listed, yo. So I called, and Long Island Highways, and Lottery Cats that meow me 2 death in 1980, just 2 or 3 months after the LOIS FOCA interaction with SCYLLA; they have an interesting telephone number, right Frank Calli-0---D-I-E, YO??????????? There is no way this is all just a coincidence, wo BRO, I am not done yet, so hold onto your stupid looking suspenders, Eddie Albert Gabor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God these crashing cymbals get louder by the day, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho, MC,MC, and all other non MC’s; I called and spoke my peace; and here is what the nice lady told me, BR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It seems the rural area of Berryville, New Jersey, formerly B4 Mountainpen and Prince, known as Hammonton, is going 2 get a mail count, interesting initials. This Mail Count is not 4 any reason I have ever heard of. The story I was given, was that all mail on local roads, will B taken first 2 the Post Office 2B counted; and then delivered. This is the wildest and strangest thing I have heard of since I invented the Post Office. Do they really think Roger is going 2 mail me something from Arizona?????????????????? I cannot think of any other reason 4 this very mysterious and strange SITUATION here, Inspector Louigee Henderson!!!!!!!!! If UR out there RC, do not mail me anything, this is 2 weird!!!!!!!!!!!! Your system is wonderful. I played 4 games today, 3 were all no signal, and the 4th one was an IN-LOW-8-STOP OUT LOW-14, with one green hit, for a 5 and a half unit profit.
Diana, I am not able 2 communicate with U in our usual way, until the repairman arrives Thursday afternoon. When he does, he is going 2 face the phone jack, insert plug down, currently with no pun intended, it faces up, right into that leak from the upstairs bathroom shit-hole, and even though this leak has been fixed; I do not trust these fucking pricks from here 2 the China Earthquakes, and the Hawaiian Volcanoes. Much later tonight, or 2 keep Don Cialoni happy from the recording studio, tomorrow night, as he used 2 say, “It won’t B tomorrow, until I go home and go 2 bed, and then get up”; I will B back on line with my big beautiful blond. Please always B around me Diana, UR my lightning, and I need U my love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I felt that terrific strike the other day, when I was moving something; and made contact with something. How I loved my days as Benny, and messing with U, and the only thing that saddens me now, is that U never trusted me with your secrets back then, of what and WHO I was dealing with, after all; it is all just a dream, right Chris Farlowe, plans and schemes all not withstanding????? Well, she did ladies and gentlemen, as I lay on my bed dying in 1790, no this is not a typo; crash, bing, Harry Callas, and 13 bells of Sound Pressure Level, BR!!!!! No DZA did tell me at the very end when she knew my heart was just about 2 quit, and told me that I would wake up in a room in the sun, and I did in 1980, but she never explained how she was Sarah-Stacey’s cousin on the great Astral Plane, and I did not know about her at all until the end of the 20th century. Maybe this is all how and Y and what made my dad so sick 2 his stomach on the train. No uncle Snoots, I never said my poopy pop was right by telling the conductor that it was U that puked all over. I just think it was very rude of U2B saying this 2 my mom, at your shit hole mansion, at 175 Peninsula Drive, in Nebuchadnezzar-ville, New York; right in my presence, when I was just a young lad of 17; ya son of a bitch!!!!!!!!!!! But who am I but dog shit?, and UR the mighty Senior Vice President of the Chemical National Bank, the second most powerful bank on the planet at the time in ‘72. Cheer up Sam Walton, my plans R all fucked up, and that boosts this scummy economy of yours, and uncle Snooties. Nothing good lasts forever, but let me tell the world what happened when I woke from the dream where I slit my wrists. The market had gone up 1633 points that day. I know it, I was there; but by moving off of where I was exactly in the hyperspace, I re-dreamed myself into a slightly shifted locale, where the 'DOW' had finished off nearly three bucks. Hyperspaces make strange bed fellows, huh banker of Akoslem??????????????? U wouldn’t have wanted the Haddonwood property buddy, as there is a strange void field out in the lake there somewhere, that leads far away; and U don’t need 2B concerned with what this pitiful whittle retard knows about all this, ol’ buddy!!!!!!!!!!!! “Talk 2 Frank”. Yeah, I was good enough 4U back when I was 15 though, huh Victoria, U child molester!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH “I have such gorgeous hair”, do I? Well, U need 2 talk 2 Donna Gaines, and her friends; and then 2 the Wolf clan, that seems so fascinated by her last name. Jeese Louise Shannon Wallwarp Carwrecker Genlow, of December 18th of 2006!!!!! www.blogger.com/http/drunkenhive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Almost 39 years have come and gone now Vicki, bite me bitch!!!!!!!!!!! This whole nightmare chews. I’m bookin’, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Y shouldn’t a dog live in a doghouse, a crazy house; or a nightmare? Well, because I never did anything 2 deserve this, and just because I am Stacey’s dog, this is just 2 keep her miserable parents happy. They banned all the dogs out of Her great city, and over the great wall into Dogtown. Read the last page of the KJV of the Holy Bible, Y would I make this shit up, BRRRR?
GOOGLE AND SWIS, AND KS-WORLD LABS OF 2299, THIS IS ALL Blahhhhhh and bleeeeeeeee and blmummmm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Copyright Michael Wayne Mountainpen-2009, and blog registered on an official registry bloggers website.
E~N~D------------T~R~A~N~S~M~I~S~S~I~O~N, BR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mark or Jesse, Grammar schools in EHNJUSAESMWG in this or any other part of HS.
(The epitome of harassment, internet version)
(The millionth-council and me)
(Morianity project continues from 1995 on tape)
DATFILE: 021809.951
Beginning Transmission:
I liked it a lot more when my computer was a lot simpler, but genius Ed Himacane made some major changes when he was last over, and programs run and stuff happens, and it is a pain in the rear end 4 me, the freaking sweeper keeps signaling me and stopping the word program every minute, and also the WOMO gave me a bowel hit a little while back around 9 or just past. Now this pain in my ass computer crap is not stopping, I have tried shutting down, restarting, nothing stops it, some fucking worm is in this, the sweeper will not stop popping on and yet all of this has been swept. Well, guess Eddie will B coming back over. Someday I will prove I am being messed with somehow and take this straight 2 the ACLU and the FBI, cannot blog further until I get 2 the fucking bottom of this spy sweeper problem. All I can do is keep fucking with this thing, let it re-sweep and multitask, the gods; all I wanna' do is blog Ed, what have U done 2 me with all this complex shit? I am not looking 2 run a 20 tera byte system, just 2 do a little blogging 4 crissake. Aniwho, MCMCAAONMC, I guess that is all the dumb machine wanted, just to sweep again, as it is not signaling me and stopping the word program every 20 seconds, PTL--PR. Miss cunt face tried 2 wipe me out, have to shit my eyes a couple minutes now, or that crumb’ll nail me 4 sure. OK, now it is eleven thirteen. I will NEVER FORGIVE OR FORGET that horrid night, back in 1993; at the Atlanta Braves Ballpark, Jane. What U did 2 me was so despicable, it would stink right through a garden of flowers 8 light years cubed. Anyway I am not in a doghouse, I am in a far worse house, and have so much 2 tell y’all it sucks wind backwards at the speed of sound. Where 2 begin is always my biggest problem, as I never will have the time I need 2 really write anywhere near all that I feel is necessary; in order 2 reveal my major plight 2 this evil world in sufficient amounts, so as 2 get anyone with clout 2 ever take pity on me, and assist me in getting 2 the bottom of my hellish nightmare woes. Actually, if the top most powerful persons on the Earth all decided 2 help me, they would fail. That is how gargantuan my troubles really R BRO, Twinbay, and all others. I am not a pessimist Missy, and U read me all wrong that day at the Galloway, New Jersey Library. But nothing ever just happens and no one will understand what I know in its fullness, not Christians, not atheists, not scientists, not sci-fi buffs, not Catholics, not even Eckists, Monks, Buddhists, and U name it, as nobody sees in total clarity, what is real; nobody. The reason that all things appear 2B in some weird and indistinguishable code of jumbled randoms, beyond any possible human recognition; is because we believe whole heartedly, and take a powerful Copperfield illusion, totally seriously; that a projection around us is there and real, when in fact; nothing beyond our center of is-ness of being can B. This of course is simply because, as any possible space extends out beyond our innermost self, time brings it all back right into us in a circulation system of perfect and precise ratio and proportion, that is all a part of the mechanics of a hypersphere, or an upline thought wave in a down-lining process; and this is truth. Refreshing old blogs, 4 new Blogauds, that will most likely not go back, and sift through the long-winded Mountainpen discourses of Morianity, and its teachings; there is a truth that is real to itself, and the Buddhists R not correct that all truth is alterable and relative, to what an inner self makes it, until it eventually comes 2 realize that it is not really there 2 start with. This is all so true in a small box, but it leaves out what the great Atlantic City alchemist told me back in the summer-time of 1974, while I was staying overnight at a rooming house, owned by a lady named Selena Dada, on Stenton Place, between Atlantic and Pacific Avenues. The ultimate truth IS zero dimension. This nothingness somehow DOES exist, and IS aware of itself; and cannot find a way 2 shut off that awareness. It does learn 2 dream out and away from itself into phase two reality, or the Astral Plane; or the Shakespearean arena of the great dream shift, that mortals call the spirit world or realm. Some entity connected with the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL will not stop this fucking hacking, the sweep finished, and now the prompt keeps popping up again, so Ed will come over and get 2 the bottom of this fucking shit once and 4 all. 4 right now, I must live with this, as I have now lived for two days with no telephone service that I am legally paying 4, and I am gonna' contact the BOARD OF PUBLIC UTILITIES, no peace 4 a second ever, not on the weekends in that hell job, and now my entire weeks R wrecked. It is round the clock, with no let up, and not a moments peace 4 life, right WPIX-1988-New York, New York, UFO THE COVER UP TV SHOW, AGENT CONDOR AND AGENT FALCON? Talk about never forgetting things like dirty rotten Jane in 1993, or this show on channel 11, NYNY, back in 1988. U don’t forget major shit that goes down in your life, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!! It never stops, it never backs off. Committing suicide only serves 2 make it worse 4 me, as I know it is all an illusion, and that I will just find myself right back in the same dream, like running 4 the light, and the light won’t go on, and realizing that U never woke up, and now U finally have; so again U jump out of bed and run 4 the light, and then again it does not go on, and I have gone through this nightmare 4 monstrous lengthy amounts of time, or whatever is really happening; just as I have existed forever and will; and I KNOW IT. I slit my wrists last night at 3 in the morning, and slowly bled out right here on my bed. It is so way cool 2 bleed out, and feel the life going out of U, as U get icy cold; and begin 2 fade away, believing as hard as U can that it will all B over in a moment, just as Skylar Rumson was told by Barnabas Collins, when he forced him 2 shoot himself through the heart; on the television show, 'DARK SHADOWS'. Only 4 me, I keep waking up and thinking I am dying; and have not yet died, and then die; and then wake up again and again, until eventually, I wake up, and the entire thing was just a dream, but then; I am aware totally, that all of this is just an astral dream down, and even that is a dream away from the truth; or the great void of zero dimensional existence; something no human being can fathom. Some of these mighty truths were once up online on a website called, www.morianity-foundation.com/ but this site is now defunct, as Kate and I do not have any money; nor any new material 2 copyright presently, on the subject thereof. I am aware that free sites exist, and Ed will B working on finding me one; and getting this foundation, and its many powerful truths, back up 4 this blind ignorant planet, and its residents 2C and know. At least this world will have the truth. The only good thing now, is that this stupid fucking pop up can shoot up every 20 seconds or so; and eventually go off, and it is not stopping the word program until I click on it.
Long story short, the mail was always delivered here at this lovely 6-9 room place, with rooms that all sort of go into each other, with no hallways; and just endless first days of summer of 2008, and a powerful goddess that has been chasing me around 4 all infinity now; but mail was always delivered here at about 10:30 AM, until about last weekend give or take, and now it is coming sporadically and never B4 3 or so in the afternoon. King Dawn the Queen, formerly and always known by, PRINCE; asked me 2 call the Post Office, and C if I can find out what is up with the mail around here, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I reminded her what she wanted me 2 use 4 a telephone. She said, 'use the house phone that they have on their Comcast Cable system' that also runs my internet, and we split the package deal bill between us. Still, I reminded her that I did not have the number 4 the Post Office, even though I invented the thing a very long time ago. She always tells me how expensive it is on their Comcast plan, 2 call the service information operator. Her mom AKS, looked up the number in some book they finally found; a personal book of numbers and they had the local Post Office listed, yo. So I called, and Long Island Highways, and Lottery Cats that meow me 2 death in 1980, just 2 or 3 months after the LOIS FOCA interaction with SCYLLA; they have an interesting telephone number, right Frank Calli-0---D-I-E, YO??????????? There is no way this is all just a coincidence, wo BRO, I am not done yet, so hold onto your stupid looking suspenders, Eddie Albert Gabor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God these crashing cymbals get louder by the day, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho, MC,MC, and all other non MC’s; I called and spoke my peace; and here is what the nice lady told me, BR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It seems the rural area of Berryville, New Jersey, formerly B4 Mountainpen and Prince, known as Hammonton, is going 2 get a mail count, interesting initials. This Mail Count is not 4 any reason I have ever heard of. The story I was given, was that all mail on local roads, will B taken first 2 the Post Office 2B counted; and then delivered. This is the wildest and strangest thing I have heard of since I invented the Post Office. Do they really think Roger is going 2 mail me something from Arizona?????????????????? I cannot think of any other reason 4 this very mysterious and strange SITUATION here, Inspector Louigee Henderson!!!!!!!!! If UR out there RC, do not mail me anything, this is 2 weird!!!!!!!!!!!! Your system is wonderful. I played 4 games today, 3 were all no signal, and the 4th one was an IN-LOW-8-STOP OUT LOW-14, with one green hit, for a 5 and a half unit profit.
Diana, I am not able 2 communicate with U in our usual way, until the repairman arrives Thursday afternoon. When he does, he is going 2 face the phone jack, insert plug down, currently with no pun intended, it faces up, right into that leak from the upstairs bathroom shit-hole, and even though this leak has been fixed; I do not trust these fucking pricks from here 2 the China Earthquakes, and the Hawaiian Volcanoes. Much later tonight, or 2 keep Don Cialoni happy from the recording studio, tomorrow night, as he used 2 say, “It won’t B tomorrow, until I go home and go 2 bed, and then get up”; I will B back on line with my big beautiful blond. Please always B around me Diana, UR my lightning, and I need U my love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I felt that terrific strike the other day, when I was moving something; and made contact with something. How I loved my days as Benny, and messing with U, and the only thing that saddens me now, is that U never trusted me with your secrets back then, of what and WHO I was dealing with, after all; it is all just a dream, right Chris Farlowe, plans and schemes all not withstanding????? Well, she did ladies and gentlemen, as I lay on my bed dying in 1790, no this is not a typo; crash, bing, Harry Callas, and 13 bells of Sound Pressure Level, BR!!!!! No DZA did tell me at the very end when she knew my heart was just about 2 quit, and told me that I would wake up in a room in the sun, and I did in 1980, but she never explained how she was Sarah-Stacey’s cousin on the great Astral Plane, and I did not know about her at all until the end of the 20th century. Maybe this is all how and Y and what made my dad so sick 2 his stomach on the train. No uncle Snoots, I never said my poopy pop was right by telling the conductor that it was U that puked all over. I just think it was very rude of U2B saying this 2 my mom, at your shit hole mansion, at 175 Peninsula Drive, in Nebuchadnezzar-ville, New York; right in my presence, when I was just a young lad of 17; ya son of a bitch!!!!!!!!!!! But who am I but dog shit?, and UR the mighty Senior Vice President of the Chemical National Bank, the second most powerful bank on the planet at the time in ‘72. Cheer up Sam Walton, my plans R all fucked up, and that boosts this scummy economy of yours, and uncle Snooties. Nothing good lasts forever, but let me tell the world what happened when I woke from the dream where I slit my wrists. The market had gone up 1633 points that day. I know it, I was there; but by moving off of where I was exactly in the hyperspace, I re-dreamed myself into a slightly shifted locale, where the 'DOW' had finished off nearly three bucks. Hyperspaces make strange bed fellows, huh banker of Akoslem??????????????? U wouldn’t have wanted the Haddonwood property buddy, as there is a strange void field out in the lake there somewhere, that leads far away; and U don’t need 2B concerned with what this pitiful whittle retard knows about all this, ol’ buddy!!!!!!!!!!!! “Talk 2 Frank”. Yeah, I was good enough 4U back when I was 15 though, huh Victoria, U child molester!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH “I have such gorgeous hair”, do I? Well, U need 2 talk 2 Donna Gaines, and her friends; and then 2 the Wolf clan, that seems so fascinated by her last name. Jeese Louise Shannon Wallwarp Carwrecker Genlow, of December 18th of 2006!!!!! www.blogger.com/http/drunkenhive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Almost 39 years have come and gone now Vicki, bite me bitch!!!!!!!!!!! This whole nightmare chews. I’m bookin’, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Y shouldn’t a dog live in a doghouse, a crazy house; or a nightmare? Well, because I never did anything 2 deserve this, and just because I am Stacey’s dog, this is just 2 keep her miserable parents happy. They banned all the dogs out of Her great city, and over the great wall into Dogtown. Read the last page of the KJV of the Holy Bible, Y would I make this shit up, BRRRR?
GOOGLE AND SWIS, AND KS-WORLD LABS OF 2299, THIS IS ALL Blahhhhhh and bleeeeeeeee and blmummmm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Copyright Michael Wayne Mountainpen-2009, and blog registered on an official registry bloggers website.
E~N~D------------T~R~A~N~S~M~I~S~S~I~O~N, BR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mark or Jesse, Grammar schools in EHNJUSAESMWG in this or any other part of HS.
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