MORIANITY-5-----CHAPTER 00004

MORIANITY-5, CHAPTER 00004

1:15 PM, EST, SATURDAY, 9 MARCH, 2013

© MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS URLS 2006-2013

Well Inspector Louigee Kent Henderson, here is the updated present time situation for you, and all others in the 'L-4' and other nameless and unknown entities; who are following MORIANITY in ways not yet understood by the scientific and technological standards, of this chest pounding King Kong and other KINGS dark ages and darker Sarah's, period in the history of freaking humanity.

Doors slammed and boomed until close to 3 AM, and began after 11 again this morning, from across the dirt bag hallway-hellway. These lowlife bottom feeders are about as uncouth and evil as it gets, and I totally know in my 'soul' or deepest beingness, that my own family has offered them amnesty from eviction or even from our local sheriff and his powers to enforce the laws of our county, and this is not implying anyone is inside anyone's pocket, but merely that things can be done on high levels by those that are the reason why something called PROJECT BLUEBOOK was created in the nineteen-forties, by these powerful covert stealthy black ops butt wipes, and that they have powerful connections all throughout those who control, rule, own, and legislate all of our lives. My sheriff is a great guy, and I was saddened last week when one of his own was shot fatally in the line of duty, protecting all of us from scum bag thugs like the dude who callously shot this poor deputy. These are the people who need not to go to jail or to a death chamber, but to a torture hotel. They would last as they long as each of them would be able to, maybe a week, maybe months, but it would be a horrible death for all of them, and only this, as barbaric as it may appear to sound, is the kind of thing that thugs like that dude would understand. Elect me president or governor, and by the goddess, I hereby do solemnly swear, I'll get shit like this passed, one way or the other, and then watch these rapper thugs and their gangs begin to cower into the shadows and disappear, leaving us law abiding citizens with safe clean streets once again. But I'm not running for anything, in fact, I'm running away from everything, especially a star family of unfathomable power and magnitude of abilities. I may be paranoid, but here is the 'short-list' of some of the fucking bullshit going on around here, by these thugs that live all around me since I lost my good nabe in the early summer time of 2011, and these shit eating slime buckets managed as always, to infiltrate the apartment directly across the hall from me. Endless horrendous noise is a given, and need not be so much as further addressed here. They remove management notes that are put on my outer door. They damage my automobile, and commit illegal vandalism. Property damage is something that under oath, my great daughter would be forced to tell any court in this land, how even she was victimized by peeps using this totally wicked evil tactic on her as a little tike up on long Island, so when this same thing has been in my life as well, since you got it peeps, August 15, 1986 again; this is not difficult to add one and one up here, and see the big fat ugly TOE, TOW, TWO. But before you half billion fans of my kid start crying too many crocodile tears for her, remember that nothing happens without a reason. Look at what this clan has done to me now since my parents forced me to go up to visit my Babylonian cousins in New York, in the sixties and up through my very last time there, around Christmas time in late 1972. Re-read the re-posted 2008 blog. See how just a day or so before the first day of summer, some organized plot caused me to be flash-mobbed in Atlantic City, where else, by a huge gang of giant young girls, all around six and a half feet tall and in super athletic shape. They blocked me from going to the ocean, standing in a perfectly planned line formation, between where my towel was, and the ocean was, then came the great glarry eyed and windy future house where I was to come and live in shortly thereafter, and do I think any of this is just some weird powerful bizarre coincidence? What do you think that I think, good folks? Add in my trip back to my high school in 1996, back to 1968, my trip up to Boston and 31 days into the future, and all of this is on 2008 blogs, some in the summer and some in the early parts of the autumn, but it is all there to be archived at blogger dot com, good people. And you wonder why I am scared to death of my all powerful daughter. She used my old song from 1983, 'Girl, I'll Tell You anything', to let me know that I'll never escape her, and even Tony Bonjovi agrees that this was done to send me a message, and speaking of this, then along came a lot more than just clueless me, but the great website with the message on it matching my recently sent to the © Office music project, containing a karaoke singing overdub job of the new lyrics of the great Scylla song done originally in 1980 if humanly measuring this, called, 'Love is for Carpenters'. This many coincidences are something that I can assure you as a loyal 'L&O' TV fan, would never ever be tolerated by any of the staff in the DA's office of Manhattan. Then without going into dozens of other totally unexplainable things that only a goddess from a star family could do, H-2, and others; I don't see anyone in this family, my kid included, trying to deny it, trying to let me know there are other explanations for it all, and so forth. Take all of this and I'd gladly have a great argument for a court room, only this is not my plan. That is my plan for the F-500, not for TAWF. THAT-FAMILY of the 1970 washcloth nightmares is a totally different situation. We will leave that right there for today.

I called to check up on Mikey, and he is not 100% obviously, and is still recuperating, and on the mend; after his first week back working. Even a sedentary job is stressful after a hernia surgery. There is the driving there and back, and other little things that can wear one out after being in a hospital with more than a sore throat and strange technicians around, right Russ Walker of the Starburn Outreach Development Corporation, and mighty American Express, and Mister Goldstein Puthatontopnotrouble? Oh can I hear those piano notes mister rod Serling, they play loudly for me just about every god dam day of my sick pathetic mother fucking messed with life. Loving father god? Where are you right now, Marge Leo, I need you to fucking make like it's November in 1985 again and say your famous quotation to me, YO, “Cut me a break”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A major fucking death angel attack in striking me world, at 1:52 PM on my right side, and is abating now, Peter Landfill Post Assets 120. Your old neighborhood, huh Howard Solomon, Chief Recording Engineer of the RPL Sound Studio Labs of Camden, New Jersey. Mashell Daniels and Diane Barton lived just down the block on Pierce Avenue, only I doubt they had three magical open reel tapes. Still, I know am being struck with a super left side death angel hit at 2 minutes after the other one. This deserves a real mother fucking W----O----W, folks, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Overall, these death android attacks are literally a dozen times worse these past five years, then they were say back before the time that I came to be Stockholm kidnapped into the King family, living first in Judge Raso's home on Middle road near the non Cranberryville Walmart, via more powerful wild outlandish transdimensional punishment for not trusting my wonderful daughter implicitly enough, and then later when they all moved to the FBI owned home at Thirteenth Street on the southern end of town. I will surely give Isiscylla her props and then some, folks; even though none of you blob me with a tweet that I sure know my way around a stock market. Hay, keep it all cozy and private, deep down I admit, there is something real cool about this great mystery, and believe me L-4, I WILL get to the bottom of it even if it takes me a thousand emmereffing dick stroking years. I am an extremely tenacious individual, and the ax I have to grind is the size of the Soviet Union, so be lucky if you are reading this and are not on my total shit list. Your day of reckoning will come, and this is not a threat, because it will all be done within the framework of the legal system of my country. Where's my country dude, did you say, mister Moore? How about, where's your Occupy Group, D—U—D--E?

As the adorable little girl music genius says so perfectly on the Criminal Intent, L&O-TV-show, “THE END”. WPLF-WOLF!