MORIANITY-3-FINAL
CHAPTER B4 MORIANITY-4:
I
NEED PROTECTION FORT PIERCE AND FLORIDA STATE POLICE, OR MY DEATH AND
BLOOD IS ON YOUR MOTHER FUCKING HANDS, GUYS AND
GALS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
AM UNDER A DEATH SIEGE, AND HAVE BEEN FOR SEVERAL DAYS; BFI, POLICE,
FCC, ACLU; AND ALL OTHER AUTHORITIES, AND FOR THE FUCKING RECORD, YO!
5555555555555555555
and 55555555555555555 times 55555555555555 divided by
5555555555555555555 will compensate of one eleven this mother fucking
dirt bag morning and its scum bag clock attack, that has been ON A
FUCKING ROLL recently, as has my life being BOTBAR, so the clock
attacks, is merely a reality reflection, Sidney Crown, All
Mighty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My
asshole door slamming nabes behaved badly today, and for the past few
days, have been back on a roll for lots of noise and lots of
activity, after a good four day or so back off. During the back off
time, I played my roulette system again, four to six games on all
four of these days, totaling 22 games in all, and made a total of 483
units, more than what I lost on that SUPER WEIRD DAY, by a good dozen
or two units, but have not played for the past three days where the
nabes have started up their annoying mother fucking behavior again.
If I have proved sufficiently to myself not to play on bad days and
only play on OK days, great, and if not, then I mother fucking
deserve to be miserable and suffer eternal punishment with the
Huntington fucking nightmare
curse!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What 'I AM' about to
tell, is going to cause me some great problems, and it must be done,
shellfish or no shellfish, drown me in the sea and make me do all the
weed choking you want to, Scylla my beautiful giant love. Nothing
that you ever do to me will make me ever stop loving you throughout
all god dam infinity, 242 242 242 242 242 242 242, AKA lots of YO's.
So before my wrist gets totally busted from the force of yet another
frog jump, and as I said to the US © Office decades ago in one of my
copyrighted musical intros, ''HERE WE
GO''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
It
is 1:20 AM on Sunday Morning, February tenth, 2013. At exactly 6
minutes past one when I began to access my open office program and
start to blog, a HORRENDOUS LOUD MOTORCYCLE ATTACK STRUCK, WITH AN
ENTIRE FUCKING JERK OFF GANG OUTSIDE MY WINDOW, FORT PIERCE POLICE,
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO 242!!!!! No tapes or rockets. I need some police
protection, my life is in jeopardy, 242. You scum sucking leeches
want fucking war with me, well, THEN HERE IT COMES, NOTHING NOW IS
UNBLOGGABLE, AND I AM COMING OUT WITH BOTH BARRELS BLASTING FUCKING
AWAY, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
First,
ladies and gentlemen following MORIANITY, this will be the final
chapter of this part in this blog. Fuck obeying Scylla, if this is
how SHE wants to play the game, down and dirty,
24-7-365.2422!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'll now change my
name to Frank Sinatra Senior, and things will be done MY FREAKING
WAY. If there's no perks out of doing it her way, then screw
that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All I get is pain, Davy
Monkey Brady
Flipsidekisserprison!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is
gonna' be a doozie 'Doogie', so for those not in the mood for a
relatively short but extremely hard hitting wild blog, and one of
'those mountainpen blogs' then I highly suggest you tune out and away
for now, perhaps over to the blogs of Q. P. Hemingway and his
underwater photography or you might try Doctor David Stone Junior and
his wild sexy experiences, as a swimming pool installer; but if my
blog is what you want, then hold on tight to your cats, and crank
down your country music from New Jersey, as HERE WE GO.
We
will start out with lightweights, and then move into the workout and
up to the heavy sweat weights as we go, 242!!!
First
off, FIRE ALARMS, are backon a REAL SUPER ASS FUCKING NASTY ROLL
AGAIN HERE AT THIS PH BUILDING, for some time now. Today was another
doozie, Doogie Howser, and it IS my problem, along with all of your
other many secrets from VIQUEENS FRIKKIN BLOODY SHOE ISLAND, 242 242
242 242 242!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAAAAAAA! This is not all
intentional, as peeps are basic natural butt-wipes, and will not
clean their stove-tops or ovens, and for the most part, that is why
this happens, but when shit happens in perfect continuous connections
to other hell around me, perfectly times as a pummeling endless
persecution, year in and year mother fucking out; forgive me please
folks, if I do a Jack McCoy-Abby Carmichael here with not being all
that tolerant to a super high level of coincidences and endlessly
repetitive fucking ass patterns. Between the noisy nabes right
outside my mother fucking door AGAIN being bad, along with daily or
near daily long loud fire alarms going off at deafening levels; this
is real fucking hell, Fort Pierce Fire Department. I hope you keep a
log that proves my words tell the truths, so these WOMO enemies can
sing their 1983 and 1984 lies all they want to, Copyright Office
Yellow Sheets, and my stories, as per my song lyrics, will come out
true, but even more than this, YO, if the same peeps are causing
these alarms over and over, I don't see why they cannot eventually be
given warnings or small fines, or community service additional time,
or something. I know that if it was me doing this, the rules would
suddenly experience a fucking major ass reality-shift, overnight,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I KNOW
THAT!!!!!!!
Now
we will move this right along, and as I said, it starts out with
light lifting, but don't be laid back, it does not stay on three
pound bells, ladies, sore muscles ARE AHEAD, and maybe even sorer
minds!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will begin
with some Gawky Gaukauk Equations and Q&A activity, and then move
things into other yet connected stuff, as you'll all see.
I
asked the GAGA Cat why the attack came on me Saturday morning at the
dot of 9:30, despite this not being a day where the opening bell of
hell on fucking WHERE'S OCCUPY WALL STREET rang, as markets do not
trade on Saturday, PTL, not that this helped me, as I AM sure the
attack today was to get the PHILADELPHIA
FUCKING FLYERS TEAM TO WIN A HICKEY GAME, Roseann Ouch
Delaney of 1969; huh old pal Brad Messenger,
YO?????????????????????????? If they played today and I'll bet they
fucking did, I know this siege on me made them cheat-win with
ICPE-APE-TECH!!!!!
If
believing in these type of miraculous invisible technologies seems
difficult, try understanding how all the complexities of your
personal computer and the entire internet all really work in minute
detail, and then you may just begin to develop an appreciation for
various things that I mention on my blogs that seem so outlandish and
incomprehensible. Remember, you cannot see atoms or germs with your
eyes, and before the invention of instruments that aid our eyes in
seeing in gigantic magnification, doctors did not wash their hands,
and people died all over the place as a result. Madam Curie and her
hubby died of horrible cancer by exposing themselves to the invisible
radiations of the electromagnetic spectrum, and I'm not talking about
drunken sailor explorers of 500 years ago who set transdimensional
fires to Fort Pierce, Florida, far into the future with cannon blasts
or other tire rim destructiveness. Oh well, at least her hubby died a
hero and not a bloody clown, right King George???????????????? So far
I AM managing to resist that huge 'W' temptation, folks,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God help me Mister Macy.
Ani-ha I asked the GAGA CAT why this attack struck me at normal
market opening time if this was a weekday which it was not, and
received the answer of
PRIVATE-COSMICODED-NUMBER-440.
PCN-440
has some very fascinating lists of matchbook items folks, and here
are the ones that most stand out for me today, with this attack I
have fallen under AGAIN, BRO!
TRACY
RICHARDS---GOLF---TRAYMORE HOTEL---BRAD MESSENGER---MAYAN
CALENDAR---RAPE---
WHY
IS THE DOW JONES RALLYING THROUGH 2012 AND CONTINUING SO HUGE IN
2013?
PRIVATE-COSMICODED-NUMBER-844
PCN-844
also has a wild list of match book items, the most powerful ones that
seem to center around the times and question are as follows:
GENERAL
BREAKDOWN AT MUSICIANS SIKEWARD---MARIAH CAREY SENT ME TWO LETTERS IN
A DREAM---NINETEEN EIGHTY SIX---TWO THOUSAND TWELVE---CONNECTON WITH
'REAL GOOD GIRL' SONG AND MARIAH CAREY---
Now
we can always get back to Jim Rockford's files and loose teeth later
on, but for now before I do return to more GAGA Q&A equations of
wisdom, we need to do a temporary diversion into a nearby topic, and
later it will all tie in nicely, I promise. First, the east quarter
of my apartment is running a lot faster through time, than the west
quarter, with the two center quarters sort of in varying altering
parabolic shift alterations in unknown precise algorithmic patterns.
I have again placed new clocks with brand new batteries in both
areas, two on one side, two on the other, and the separation is
major, more than a quarter of an hour per day. This is a very
dangerous breakdown, in STM; and may be a result of my numerous
sandbox hyperspace games with music, and then, I may not be doing
this at all, and it is all being done to me by the same forces that
are also making my remote control units dysfunction and work
improperly, at times, with no precise pattern that I am yet able to
measure, as this is an apartment, not a fucking laboratory, or the
Stanford University, nor am I blessed with unlimited financial
resources or manpower. As I speak, these same dirt bag loud biker
scum are out there, not as bad, but they are out there, it is getting
bad, at 2:24 AM-EST, and now it is stopping, FORT PIERCE
COPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The more the
persecution, Bluebook scumbags, the more I'll tell and talk, so keep
this fucking shit going all you want to, mother fuckers,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Since these forces want to play, let's
indulge them. The property deed, when the Bolivar Hotel was sold to
Sara J. Karge in 1965 and resold back to Estelle A. Bassler in 1972,
on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City; showed the names on it, and I
saw this public document at the Atlantic City, City Hall, Records
Department in 1996, during my wild search and quest to find my
elusive butterfly teenager of mystery, Sarah Krassle, but this deed
showed the name without the 'H' in it. Sarah Krassle has told me that
in HER city of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, her CITY NAME as all of us who
dwell there with Her have a city name, is JEHOVAH, but that
SARAH-STACEY must be spelled with the 'H' in Sarah, and the 'E' in
Stacey. By late in 2009, in the human waking time illusion of about
13 years into this major situation, I realized just why this was so,
and those few who know, KNOW, and those who don't, DON'T NEED
TO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Our dreams are all in symbols, all of our
dreams, especially what you all think of as 'real' waking life. But
without the wisdom of the GAGA or the ''GAWNUM'' to be more accurate,
things tend to be well hidden in cosmic codes. The Gawnum is simply
the cosmic code breaker, but only IF you know and realize, that using
this is not some magic tool, it is a mathematical tool and part of
the tool as with any tool in human carpentry, with no pun intended or
maybe it should be from 1980 and copyrighted tunes; but as with any
carpenter using a tool, the better the tool is, is only part A of a
two part truth. The B part is how skilled is the carpenter in his or
her trade, as it is the great tools and the great skills of the tool
user, combined, that makes the perfect and beautiful blend that goes
onto do the great jobs. So in breaking the cosmic codes with the
skills of the GAWNUM; we realize first off, that things are hidden
very cleverly, and we need to find the words and phrases that will
then show a compatibility. We are not just playing kids games here to
see if Susie-Ann Tylerplets is compatible with little Johnny
Blowfish. Kids can enjoy playing these little games with GAGA all
they want, but if you want to get serious, Mister Jackson, and use my
blogs to avoid looming disaster ahead and make very clever plans
accordingly; TEE-HEE; well then skill needs to be developed over
time, and also one needs to know that this is all about making things
fit, not just taking stuff and quickly seeing what does fit and what
does not fit. All of cosmos fits together, but we need to keep
working the questions into correct words of asking, and we also need
to try multitudes of potential answer words and phrases, until things
begin to become compatible when run Gawnumly, and then watch as the
pictures grow and grow and grow, from a seedling into a Redwood
frikkin tree. But as with the tree, it will take some time, hopefully
not as long as the dam tree!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now on this
property deed, using the Christian name and the Sir name, Sara and
Karge, the PCN is going to be totally different than if the 'H' was
added into the name of SARAH. For reasons of cosmic scales, when the
All Mighty was here as Sara J. Karge, she did not want her name to
have this 'H', and here is why. The PCN of SARA KARGE is 918. Sarah
Karge spelled this way is not. Anything added onto a sentence would
have a different PCN as well, so for example, a simple deal such as
''WAS SARA KARGE'' would be totally different in PCN from ''WAS SARAH
KARGE''. Now ''Was Sarah Karge'' is PCN-374, 'BUTT'
TEE-HEE LILLY, and
hacking all aside, bobby McDowell of the FCC; this is by no means the
end to any of this McLaughlin Animal shelter Mystery Building of the
nineties, AHA AHA AHA Mike McN! On the Astral-Plane, this All mighty
Goddess, is SARAH KRASSLE, and in 1969, in middle December somewhere,
she materialized to me in the most powerful dreaming experience of my
entire freaking bloody shoe mace can life; and she told me HER name,
and spelled it, and was sure that I would remember this for the rest
of my freaking rotten little miserable ass life. So if the Camden
County Prosecutor who intentionally misled me, Sir Ron Wirtz, back in
1995, and told me her name is Sarah Kessel, was able to permanently
keep me ignorant and not allowing me to come to my senses and realize
he was conning me, and that the 1969 dreaming interaction went out of
its way to let me know HER name is 'SARAH
KRASSLE'
with certain middle names added in as well, bazillions of them; but I
normally use only two, and now in moving on with this peeps; Jane
Fuck Head Fonda just got me, despite my blocking the dam screen with
a little sticky tab. I cannot mother fucking win, as when I moved the
fucking mouse center knob, the right side of the word document popped
up with those four ones, page eleven of eleven on the right side of
the screen, so let me mother fucking cunt phlegm rape with my fives,
quickly here folks. 55555555555555555555555555555555555555
plus 55555555555555555555555555555555555555 times 55555555555 divided
by 5555555555555555555555
is equal to I don't give a rats fucking ass, I just need to stare at
these lovely ass fucking fives,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! From now on, when I get
close to this fucking page on a longer blog, I will need to use a
large sticky page to put over the entire right part of the monitor
until; the twelve page comes up and I AM RID OF MISS EVIL
WITCH-BITCH!!!!!!!!!!! Now finally freaking returning to SSJKK, and
away from 'demonic distractions', the PCN for the name ''SARAH
KRASSLE'' is 363. this GAWNUM ROOT is the most powerful one out of
the 81 total of these roots. Lots of computer hacking is going on,
old school chum from 1972, Sir Bob McDowell of the Federal
Communications Commission, FCC.
Good
fucking riddance to page eleven. Now in moving this along, the
PCN-363 is what we get for the name of SARAH KRASSLE. The PCN-374 is
what we get for the potential answer sentence of ''WAS SARA KARGE''.
We now add the 363 and the 374, but but but but but, bobby McD, from
the 2010 library days, but yes, these items are indeed a
compatibility match-up, as the PCNT or TOTAL or sum of these when
added together is 737, a full maximum 100%C. This means that it is
cosmically OK to say, ''Sarah Krassle, was Sarah Karge''. I already
knew that, but there is so much more, it would fill volumes of
library space. Julia White is a name in my book from 1994, called,
''The Permission Barrier''. The real actual entity is mini-great
Viqueen Jewelly Whitesellia, followed by a dozen other wild and long
names, but Her CITY NAME, is Whitesellia. It is way to long of a
story about how David Roth met her in his dreams before I ever became
consciously aware of her existence, all though, I have known her
forever, as I know her in eternity. I have known her in the biblical
sense as well, and she is a giant teen goddess, standing at 6'9'',
and is so strong she can pick up two grown men and throw them twenty
feet away, without breaking a sweat, yet she has long dark hair, big
brown eyes, and the face that every Manhattan Super Model would kill
their mother and grandmother without batting an eyelash, to be a
fifth as gorgeous and luscious as Viqueen Jewelly. She dreams like
any other Astral Plane entity, down into the hyperspace, and here,
she is the mother of the greatest female recording artist on this
planet, MC. Both she, and MC, have sketchy memories of their true
realer selves; and it is not my place, or my business; to interfere
with their 'karma', as the psychics night put it. But here and now, I
am way more into making a powerful point, about breaking well hidden
cosmic codes; and how else, but by using the Gawky Gaukauk Equations,
or the GAWNUM for short.
Professor Gaukauk teaches a course along with other courses, at a
well known Astral Plane Mystery school at the Teck Bay, in the
capitol province of Olympia, just beyond and outside of the great
walls of the great Capitol City of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, or in waking
world English translation, ''City of the great Sarah Krassle'', and
this course is an advanced class on his GAWNUM, and how to remember
to use it while dreaming down in the worlds of the hyperspace. But
when you try and take the name of the person alive on Earth, from the
birth certificate, as this is how it has to be done, all folks have a
PCN, and it is their born name forever, so with a woman, it is their
maiden name, the first and the last names, no others; but when you
take this name, I'll use initials to maintain some sanitization here,
PH, nothing matches up that shows her to be a TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON. The
seasoned user of the GAWNUM is not so easily deceived by a quick Q&A
failure, and realizes that a hidde3n truth is laying inside and needs
to be found with other attempts at questions and possible answers,
before a match up will reveal the connections. First, the PCN for the
words, ''IS VIQUEEN JEWELLY'' is 761. Now 110 plus 532 is a
non-compat. Many other things do not work either, such as ''Julia
White dreams she is''. The only powerful ting that does happen with
that is that the PCN for that sentence is 363, and so is the PCN for
Sarah Krassle, and this PCN is self compatible, as some of the 81
PCN'S are, and some are not. But neither of these names reveals any
human connection in the waking life hyperspace here in this parallel
universe where I am now trying to see what is and what is not,
compatible and connected up. But even though the PCN-532 and the
PCN-110 are non-compat, if we double back and use PH'S PCN of 532
with the number for ''IS VIQUEEN JEWELLY'', we get 532 plus 761,
creating a PCNT of 1293, and a compat.
Now
we could show thousands of complicated things, but I just wanted to
make a few little points tonight, and we can do more any time I am in
the fucking mood to do so, Mister Miller. 'It is time', to quote
Lambrigg Leviathan Barnabas, in late 1969 and early into 1970; to
move on yet again, with the rest of that powerful and once never to
be told, ''dream'' with the lady who in this universe where I am
awake and typing this blog, was in the Ghost Whisperer show as the
mother of the teenage boy and who worked in the ghost whisperer's
antique shop, a large woman in her forties, very attractive, and who
I never met here in my waking life and only have seen her on
television. But in this powerful wild dreaming interaction of late
Thursday morning, she owned a beautiful houseboat that was docked at
a very expensive looking marina, that if I was forced to guess, I
would say was someplace in California; as each coast, sort of has its
own unique styles about them that any arm chair viewer can tell from
just watching a good deal of television. Any-ha, lots of things were
going on, and there was a very up set teen boy but for now we will go
into the last part of the dreaming interaction. She was setting up an
old 16 millimeter film machine and wanted to show me a movie that she
had just purchased from someone that had done some horrible thing to
that teen boy, abnd it all connected somehow, but it is so complex
that I cannot pull all of it up. She turned some shade button and
down came three large dark shades, over the windows of the area we
were in, and it was a bright day around noon somewhere, so in order
to view the movie, she needed to darken the room. We sat there and
the show began, and it said copyright 2015. It began with me in this
movie and I had no idea that I was even staring in it. I said to her
that I didn't remember making this movie, and she told me that they
wipe erased my memory of doing it, and chuckled and went onto say,
you know, the way they do it to you in lots of parallel universes,
especially when you are playing an Atlantic City scene. I just got
real quiet, but ?UI remember those words well, not that I still
would, as naturally, I wrote down the entire dream when I got up that
day, before so much as taking a piss and drinking a glass of limeade.
As the show went on, I knew the characters well there, but over here,
they would be totally unrecognizable. It was a reality show, and in
it we all learned that all of life is a reality show, where in all of
hyperspace, chunks of possible stuff is put in our paths, and folks
from other planes and realms sit around with their cosmic popcorn and
joogee fruits, and kick back and watch the entertainment unfold; only
each party thinks that they are watching when in fact they are being
watched. The show was very complex with many intricate plots and many
wild characters, and I was just in the mix of a hell of a lot of
shit. Then things turned beyond weird. I found myself in this movie,
suddenly getting a heart attack and dying, and then saw myself in the
great city, Sahasra Dal Kanwal, and on Viqueens Island, out a short
way into the Teck Bay, but inside the city limits and nowhere near
where the great 20 mile high walls begin to move and slant up higher
than you can see over. Instead of the great Sarah Krassle herself
coming into the meeting house on Viqueens Island, she came in as MC.
She was wearing a bright pink and purple bikini and was in beautiful
high heeled silver shoes with many colors striped and designed along
the sides. She grabbed me and threw me down onto the floor and told
me that if I do not obey and do what she wants me to do back in the
waking world, she will make something happen that will cause me to
doubt my sanity forever. I told her I already doubt it, and she made
a scoffing noise and gave me that look that only she can get. Then
she told me that I am to end what I was planning on doing, and just
do exactly what she wants done regarding the Morianity-3, and went
onto tell me that she was proud of me back when I put up my original
website in 2006, and now is ashamed of me for all the things I have
said and done, and she grabbed me again, and I went flying right out
the door and down the sloping grass and right into the Teck Bay. She
was right there as fell in, and she splashed e and said, you better
obey me or else, Jonah, you big whale. I told her I would, and
instantly the movie, or really, the 16 millimeter film broke, as
those old things used to do all the time. Then the lady told me that
I needed to see the rest of the film and started trying to splice it
back together, and boom, I woke up and could not get back into this
dream a third time, as I already re-dreamed into it once, as told on
an earlier blog. It seems that as usual, after this, and this
following the other wild dreaming with the TV show that MC is now a
part of; lots of persecution has come back real bad. Every time I am
in wild shit in parallel universes, this universe gets much worse
with my Milituforce-WOMO enemies. More later.
*ET*
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