MORIANITY-4---PRETENDING I DO NOT HAVE INTERNET AGAIN

MORIANITY-4

PRETENDING I DO NOT HAVE INTERNET AGAIN

03/03/13, EARLY ON SUNDAY MORNING, CHILLY IN

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, 42 AND GOING DOWN TO

HIGH TWENTIES WIND CHILL NEXT TWO NITES, WOW

BEAUTIFUL COLD WEATHER, REMINDS ME OF HOME

Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your interest in Morianity. This would never had become a reality, except for a coworker at a security guard job in 2005, named Christopher Bennett, who told me after he learned a little bit about my personal troubles and woes, that internet blogging might just resolve my problems, as exposing the evil deed doers may make them go away. After I began doing the blogging from my local library, I was shortly introduced to a patron who came in to use his laptop to connect into their WIFI system so he could do music downloads. He went on to design a very nice website for me for a reasonable $150.00, called Morianity-Foundation. It is no longer up on the net as it was an annual 45 bucks or so to maintain, and I am a very poverty stricken individual because some one or some thing, captain JTK has gone out of their way for nearly 60 years to intentionally make sure they are indeed keeping me in this down and out condition, no matter what I ever try and attempt doing to get myself out of it. In any event, all that happened is that things got much worse, not better at all, but a hell of a lot worse. If I could go back through time and remain in this dimension which is not possible, but if it were, I would relive just the time of early 2006, and never ever touch a computer or the net. But as my wonderful daughter puts it so very well, ''TOO LATE''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As for the title of this blog, I am not going to post this right now. I will use this as I was doing before, while I was on that short off grid down time; merely use my open office 3.1 system and this keyboard, to keep a record of my life and the incidents, and say whatever thoughts I feel compelled to type in about any and all things morianity-related, and at a later time when I feel like it, post it all up as one blog of multiple times that were individually done separately.

Here is the SATURDAY situation, Inspector Louigee Kent Henderson, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Major persecution from noise in the neighborhood all day long, took place, causing me a nasty mother fucking botbar day, and one for two for the fucking month of dirt bag good old March-Sadness. I do not like being fucking 50% BOTBAR of MPB, for a month, not one fucking tiny little ass bit, YO. At a later time, I'll type in the MPB for the first sixth of this 2013 year, or the months of January and February. As for breaking down the day into accurate accounting of the pummeling that I received, I had multiple fire alarms, super loud emergency vehicle sirens blasting right outside my window, in and out neighbors with music, doors, and loud voices, and this began as early as midnight and went on until after 2 in the morning, starting up shortly after 8 when the first fire alarm went mother fucking off. Shit went on all mother fucking day long, and if Sunday is as bad as Saturday, I'll be contacting the fucking Florida State Attorney General's Office, and speaking to our beautiful Attorney General, about how I AM being persecuted to death, and explain this crime in vivid detail, even though she won't believe me, it still will be more fucking exposure, to quote Chris Bennett, Dave Roth, and others who believed that exposing this monster nightmare is the only possible way of reducing its strength levels against me, even if only fucking temporarily. Two weekends in a row I've contended with the music again, still, nowhere as bad as it used to be, but I know they have that box in that apartment, and eventually if they are caught in an inspection, this will violate a major PHA rule, as if you are told to remove something from your place, you must do so. So in any event, I'll close for now and crash for the night, and will resume blogging onto this document, until I decide to post it. Also, I made three units yesterday and three units the day before that, on my systems roulette. One may have been 3.5, I do not remember the exact crap, other than two days back on Friday evening, I was cremated by the house vig, or the take would have been about double, around 7 units, but the greens came in hot and fucking heavy, as they tend to do on overall average, during the stronger siege times, and for obvious reasons, that many pro gamblers already understand without me getting into the full particulars now about it, and is why on any staged up betting systems, house vig greens should always be covered, and is how I made a lot on major siege days back in 1986 when all this shit was getting fucking started between the Milituforce and myself at those times.

OK, it is shortly into the second half of Sunday now, and they are giving me a weekend every bit as fucked up as last one, TO ENSURE THAT THEY ARE FINALLY GETTING ALL TIME RECORD HIGHS ON THEIR EVIL WICKED FUCKING DOW JONES STOCK MARKET. At half past twelve, still yet another FIRE ALARM went off. OK, they have an excuse too, being the first weekend of a new month, it very well be that many new residents are living in this building, unaware of how easily these things go fucking off. Oh well, unlike yesterday, within five minutes, the fire engine trucks got here and deactivated the horrendous monstrous fucking noise. It is now 12:37 PM and quiet again, on this Sunday afternoon, on the third day of this sadness BB-BALL third rotten month. Here we go, just as with yesterday, loud shouting dirt balls outside my door, right as soon as the fire alarm went off. All odds are, these pricks over there are doing this over and over, and not some new resident. These trash ass bastards are really starting up again this weekend, Debbie Marotto, and I will be seeing you because I received your notice in the door slots of my appointment with you for annual Public Housing Re-certification, and I'll be there to really complain about recent shit. I'll also be telling you that some nasty hocus pocus is going on with Mister Dell the guard. He is either intentionally avoiding me, or is no longer doing his shift. On four separate occasions now, I have gone down to try and talk to him while he supposedly is on duty between 11 at night and 3 in the morning, and it is all quiet and no one is at the desk. This has gone on now since Presidents' Day Holiday, of two mother fucking weeks ago. If he is seeing me on the camera, leaving my unit and walking down the hallway towards the elevator and grabbing his stuff and running into his nearby first floor apartment each time, that is not very nice at all, and otherwise, we have no guard covering this graveyard four hour part of the shift, and for two weeks now, so you'll be made aware and I know you will check on this. Either way, for not helping me, he will catch heat for what he is doing, and he should. On a previous blog I meant to type in 'fall down dead', not fall down down, which would make absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever. This is what I mean by either a 'MIND-HACK' or a 'MACHINE-HACK', good people and sheeple.

Sheriff Mascara, Please try and look out for me a little while, as last time I typed this message for you, things did quiet down wonderfully for me for a couple of days, and freaking sir, I'll take anything I can get. When you are freaking me, a few breadcrumbs become a real banquet feast, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, here we go again, Marcus and McGinty; all of us poor little helpless and defenseless picked on 'new kids in town' from 1978, being pummeled and persecuted and viciously harassed. I don't expect any assistance from you guys, one is too wealthy and they hate the poor folks like me, and the other was threatened by his wife and his cousin-lawyer from Atlantic city, to not listen to my story, that back in 1977, they all seemed so dying to mother fucking know and hear when I made like a clam and just did my job and went home, at the Mars Graphics Print Shop, in Westville, New Jersey. Don't go getting gout on my account, old ex friends, YO. Tim Barbers wife, well,, what I just said as well to you too, right James Potter Stuart. You of all peeps know how bad shit can all keep ganging up on you and making you need to jump into a raging river with a tall glass of liquor in your hand, hoping you won't burn in the fire in a minute afterward, with old Lestercan McKinnon, or maybe, not so old in present human form. Wow do these two monsters seem to really fucking hate my guts. Take heart, my engineer will try and remove all of this garbage off of the tub4e and close down all of my6 social medial networking sites once and for all, in early May when I go over next to pay him for that song done nearly a year ago.

My dirt bag enemies have fixed it so I will have my fucking sleep broken up for a solid week. First helping Mikey was a pleasure, but not being a morning person, I had to get up earlier than I normally do and readjust my personal habit schedule for three days, from Wednesday through Friday, then the fire alarms have awakened me all throughout this weekend just like last one, on Saturday and Sunday, and then tomorrow Monday, s a morning PH Inspection as well as am afternoon medical appointment, so for 6 straight days, I have not had a good sleep, and this is getting, as Dawn-Marie King might put it if alive, ''ON MY LAST FUCKING NERVE''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is one in the afternoon, and I have decided to post up. There goes that fucking dirt bag biker outside Sheriff, at least he has muffled his pipes a little more towards legal road standards. Sorry to hear about the Deputy, he was such a nice fellow. If this world was all filled with peeps like the two of you, Ken, I would be in heaven, not on this rotten old miserable world. Keep up the good work, Saint Lucie County, I am proud to be a resident. Don't worry about my daughter being sore about the late 1982 school integration thing, as I tried to make her understand that that was just the way of the south. Oh well, what can I say, BRO, JJ Evans, or hurricane Smith?

It is 55 degrees and time to log off. The cool snap will only be here a couple of days and it will be right back into high seventies and low eighties with lows around 60. This is Florida now, right Howard Solomon, not Heaven, or other parts of the Earth? So let me get back to my Law and Order as my nap time seems to be permanently over around here for this rotten old weekend. I made about 6,5 units on my systems-roulette over the last two days, not counting this March the third day; and if my memory serves me even close to correctly, that is 23 and a half units over the 22 and a half units lost on the 'systems crash' of about 15-25 days or somewhere inside of that vicinity; as only my blogs will contain that information, I allow my memory to release such unimportant garbage. Still non food organic waste is called rubbish, and yet both are considered to be in perhaps slang terminology, ''trash''. My 'trashcan daughter' Private Cosmicoded Number of the Dick Wolf 2009 Society, was an '835' when I queried up the GAWNUM as to why I am going through all of this most recent hell and why the Dow Jones is at ALL TIME RECORD HIGHS, lovely giant Gina, and real Morians know a lot about wonderful PCN-835, but I'll get a lot more into powerful heart pounding 'bullshit' later on with all of this, and quite a lot mother fucking more, good people.

I will be explaining the systems-roulette, giving a lot of recent GAWNUN Q&A stuff,and much more, oh boy, here goes Mister dirt bag on his motorcycle again, at quarter past one this fucking afternoon, amazing he did not do at exactly two minutes earlier, causing me to fucking look at the computer clock and see ONE-ELEVEN, all ugly and digitally representing the face of Mizz Sleazebag Jane Notfondauonebit. I will come back with much much much more bullshit-835. For now, watch your texting and driving, lovely beyond hot, Mizz Ruby-Rosa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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