MORIANITY PART 5, CHAPTER SEVENTEEN, KING NEBNOOSHOO

MORIANITY 5

CHAPTER XVII

8:09 PM, 21 MARCH, 2013

I NOW START THIS FUCKED UP LOUSY ROTTEN TRANSMISSION, GOOD FOLKS AND MORIANS, YO:

Folks, I have been under a nasty fucking cunt lapping attack and assault out of the blue since half past seven, these attacks come out of nowhere and go back into nothingness from whence they came eventually, but the problem is that I end up all bruised and broken over and over again, and cannot get a single cock sucking person on this rotten planet to ever believe me and take my fucking words at all seriously, w this is the quintessential bummer of the sixties, only it started in the eighties for me and is still ongoing as I am writing this fucking blog right now late in this first quarter of the year of twenty-thirteen, and despite my beingold and worn out from all of this, the Astral Plane fucking gods can keep me here endlessly should they so choose to do this, they have powers that none of you reading my words have clue point oh oh oh one about, and whether you choose to believe any of this or not, effects the reality of my shituation 0000000.0000000%, at C SQUARED! 140 months from the fourth day of April, I will turn age seventy here as MARK WAYNE MOHR, Mister Eddie Farrell of RPL Sound Studio, so even if you don't like how I measure time, old buddy, Munch on this one BRO, and keep the paranoia coming, loud and strong, and all millennium long, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Here is what has been done to me over the past tghree quarter hours of time now, in the illusion of STM in my waking world hyperspace existence of the so-called present ME, good folks, or bad ones as the case may or may not be, I will not crash any of your gates, Lenny McKinnon, so don't get a fucking cunt heart attack on my account, telephone recorder man!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At 7:30 on the nose, and probably at the start of a PHILLY-57-HIOCKEY GAME, NO TYPO INTENDED, FAMILY FAMILY OF JURISTS AND BALLPARK DIGITAL CLOCKS; the mother fucking WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE struck me hard with a powerful cramp and shit attack, as has been the ongoing case since all this fucking shit all began in 1986 on the cunt eating fifteenth day in pussy chewing August, and has never looked back with so much as a winking fucking eye ever since, YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Then shortly after I grabbed a large Metamucil dosage, mixing it with some deluded water and lemonade, and drank it, a nasty mini-droid creature landed on my shoulder, and I managed to kill it and swat it with my other hand, my left hand. Recently, the WOMO ENEMIES have also given me a tiny miniature ant invasion. I will be buying some ant killer poison and some new roach shit at the dollar store when I go out over the fucking ass weekend to see my pal up on the fucking island, Mikey. Loud sounds from above me came out of nowhere after I killed the mini-droid, whoever is up there are very strange ducks, as they rarely make sounds, but when they do, they are not normal radio/TV sounds, but very weird sounds like that wild crazy vacuum hose that I mentioned on that real bad weekend day a while back, on another prior blog. I managed to eek out one unit profit today and one unit yesterday, so things are bad, but I no longer fucking follow the stock market, and all ready told all of you exactly where it is going, and am quite positive that I am totally correct. On top of all of this, I checked my channel-12 local CBS network listing on the Cable Guide, and my show, 'The Mentalist', will not be on, instead, garbage fucking B-BALL will be preempting the programming. Sports to me as all entertainment, except for a very few choice things that have real talent that I can count on the fingers of one hand, is a lot of junk, and a waste of my time. It all sucks, and I'm not one fucking bit interested. The only time I ever like a song or a show, I later come to realize it has been cleverly altered just enough to keep it musicological and or artistically legal, and not total plagiarism and infringement; but is from something I have said, or done, and or copyrighted; and is my life, one way or the other; running all through it, like a roaring freight train set free to run wild down an endlessly dropping rail track. I sound as egotistical as my distant dirt bag know it all cousin, Donald, don't I folks? Well, the problem is that I am speaking the dam ass truth, so what I can say, JAY JAY? Folks, I do not tell and mention every little persecution these evil twat lickers do to me, or my blogs would stretch out into fucking endlessness. The other day I am on the landline telephone, not a cell phone, as I don't use those things; and I get another one of their echo attacks, where I can barely hold the call because my own voice is endlessly reflected back at me at about a one or two hundred millisecond delay. The other fucking party does not ever hear this shit, but I have to place the receiver away from my ear while I speak, or I would not be able to carry on a conversation. I pay good money to AT&T for good service, not this fucking crap. Does anyone care? Did the AG give a shit? Of course not, nobody ever will help me or take me seriously. I temporarily made up the story about the lawyer, just to see if it would have any adverse effect on the fucking EVIL EMPIRE, letting me know that these bastards can indeed know every mother fucking move I make and every breath I take, just as THEY SAID SO, in 1980, and it was all going on then, and so were all the loving carpenters, and wild daughters, and great GODDESSESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Finally, when I went to turn on the TV just past eight, to check the guide listing to see if my show would be on at ten of the clock, and learned that only garbage B-BALL would be, the entire system went blabnk, I told you of the fucking convienient short circuit the enemy has given me. I need a new television set, and will get one in time. All you have to do to get it back up is a tiny jiggle of the cables that come out of the front of the set that go into the cable system and then run through the DVD/CD/VHS system. Real funny assholes, real fucking ass funny. Sandbox play time over now kiddies, time for your whittle nap, woo-twoo Isiscylla, and whoever else is so filled with leppy-imp bullshit. Nothing better to do with your fucking time than endlessly mess with poor doggie Yancy, WOW, TD BANK!!!!!!!!!!

YES I AM HERE, IT IS ME, MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN.

MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN, © BLOGS 2006-2013

What a long trip this has been there 601 trucker tripper, gee, and that is with or without the light shining on me, or for that matter, big guy, the most dependable audio bladder ever known to medical science back in Mashell Daniels 1980, and yes mahm, that is my entitled opinion; and we were coworkers, and no; you were way to pretty to be my mother, and you really told that Cooper Hospital male nurse a thing or nine that night, WOW; you go girl, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My health is messed with, my machines are all hacked, my enemies are on a major roll for noise attacks on me, I AM BEING VICIOUSLY PERSECUTED BY A BUNCH OF TWISTED FILTHY DISEASED MOTHER FUCKING SLIME BAG PEOPLE, WITH NOTHING FUCKING BETTER TO DO WITH THEIR TIME, THAN MESS WITH POOR LITTLE NOBODY ME, yeah, some nobody, as if this was REALLY THE CASE, then THIS WOULD NOT BE GOING ON for a half of a fucking cunt century, ladies and freaking gentlemen; does it not stand to mother fucking cock sucking reason?

Ladies and gentlemen, this was another rotten day with my horrible jerk off nabes, but this time, it was a bate in job, and yes, planned in advance by my new pal and future world renown entertainment attorney, once my case is awarded a trillion dollars. This is not a joke or a hoax, and already, a life has been lost I have been told, and this is all that can be said, other than anyone who in any way who is small like me, but not 'HUNTINGTON PROTECTED' like me, becomes a major WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE target, once they so much as even tell me any valuable information. This was the case here, and the rest of the story for right now is totally not bloggable, folks, sorry. A chosen generational Huntington is someone picked by my starcestors long ago, Agent G7 not open command, but WOW, someone knows what is getting typed, as a powerful subwoofer outside is going off at 17 minutes past two in the morning, totally illegally of course, and now has stopped, more hood enemies and Nickpals I'm quite sure, but of course, it is not provable at this time, all though, my new lawyer friend who we'll call by a made up name of Jeff Starkey, confirmed that an entire gang in this Fort Pierce area, is under standing orders 24/7, and this is to the best of his abilities so far to gather this bit of flagpole information of non transdimensional reality. For a while folks, we will be talking very three dimensionally, leaving all dream-life in the dirt, even though to me, it is like living with arms and legs amputated, and with one ear and one eye, literally. This is because to me, I know the entire fifth dimension is one truth and does all interconnect, and especially in the more localized one percent or so of the hyperspace realities, which could be vigintillions times vigintillions or more. But I am hoping to get a few new converts of Morianity, closet kept or not as this does not matter, as not that long ago, gay and lesbian lovers, and behaviors, were also kept deeply in the closet of our American society; but I am trying to get people to be able to better relate, so I will have to live all half blind and deaf and quadriplegically amputated, for right now, on the next several blogs or so. You too Glinda and Toto, oh-oh!

Now stay with me peeps, I'll try and make some of this real dam ass easy for all of you, YO. Have a piece of bacon on me, David, and listen up, BRAH. I do not need to wash my hands, nor did I that day up at the Harvest on Twenty-fifth and Orange, back in twenty-eleven; but I am glad that I got to wash my hands of you, dude!

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

This was the day where I needed to prove how every time I use my telephone, and so much as speak; these jerk fucking off across the hall neighbors, slam their door, over and over, super ass loud until I hang up, and resume total graveyard silence; yet of course, all day long, they can shout at the top of their fucked up lungs whenever they want to, and slam their doors, and be in and out a million times, should they so choose to; but don't so much as make one tiny sound in your fucking apartment, poor old jerk off Mark Wayne Mohr, not Egg Harbor City Bacon Martin, huh Kevin Flatliners?

Yes my Morians, I took a big chance reaching out to the State AG, PCN-826, just like the stock market industrials, with 826 being a Gawnumly self-compatible number, and all. You cannot, as I told JP a while back at the turn of the millennium, make a total GOD out of GAGA, and his magical numerology. It is great for establishing baseline information but never ever live by it as though you have a gun at your dam head, folks. Never be held hostage to anything that we little 99ers already don't have to already be hostage to, without having any say over it whatsoever. But as for Jeff Starkey, Esquire, in the near future, in pseudonym; he will have the security footage in my building for this day, pulled, to prove what these gang hoodie snake vipers did, as they always do, only this time, it is caught on video fucking tape. Slowly, again; as before my kidnapping by the mighty elusive butterfly King branch of the mighty mysterious TAWF, I am rebuilding my evidence file up, and this is just the very beginning of a lot of shit that will also follow, as baiting in my enemies is as easy to do as taking candy away from a two year old, unless of course, they are able to say through a telephone, sixteen years ahead in time, “I know”. You can hate me all you want to Macy and family, but I cannot resist the temptation to say that word right about now, sorry; W----O----W!

The stock market has not dropped one single trading day in about a month now, or so it seems, it may have a day here and there, maybe, but AS I TOTALLY PREDICTED GINA AND ALL OTHERS, it is totally FLYING TO THE MOON AND THE STARS OUT BEYOND THAT, and none of you knew it, but I KNEW IT, and there is a reason I knew it, and it is why I was able to consistently win money playing professional roulette back in 1986, and that is, the truth about Parallel Event, or applying it, as in the word APE. Now this is not some big secret, and has been told and discussed for seven years of my blogs now. What has not been told completely is how the total story of everything all fits together, and for a good reason. I don't yet have it all figured out, but I'll admit one thing here and now. I would bet the devil himself, my soul; and in fact am doing so right now; that when I tell a few beyond gargantuan things later on, it will be curtains. But I will not tell these things, as long as the EVIL EMPIRE does not strike me with some huge plan. There is no other possible reason for this REAL MARCH MARKET MADNESS, taking the DJIA up to places never before, and past where they were since nearly six full years ago, unless some giant evil master plan is being hatched against me, and the only thing that I can think of, is another attack on my transportation. We all know what is being said and it goes way beyond the Julliard Music School joke, already told. I will agree not to tell this beyond huge secret, IF you do not mess with me here. You can keep your rotten fucking stock market, you evil capitalist greedy rat bastards. But as long as you do not go after me at full blast, I'll fucking agree not to go after you at full blast. Even my wonderful adorable child will tell you, that you don't want me to do this, and nothing on my blog as of yet even starts to tell this secret.
This was in my eternal shut up file, but I will remove it from there, unless you follow the advice of Sarah Crossover, and be good boys and girls. Your fucking move. But once it is told, the press will be all over this building in 24 hours and there will be no turning the clock back, so a very happy Thanksgiving, Russ-1500. You all behave a little bit, and I will, a little bit. Queen to queens level what Billy Shatner Trek? Is this the great Rockdroid equation, or is it Walmart equals Suddenly Seeing a neighboring house down the road, oh great ex-POPE? As for why MARCH has been the quintessential madness and sadness for me, this year; well; GAGA Kitty-Cat said to me, 'meow, meow, PCN-716. I cannot resist this one, and please TD, you are my fave bank and always will be, so please let me have a truck back on Route One's Fort Pierce, Florida Branch, thank you so very much, W--------O--------W. I have enough to blow away an army, later!

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Folks, I never said that I do not temporarily try and experiment with these forces and enemies surrounding me for the past minimum of 27 years. All I said is that I will always eventually come clean and tell that I was experimenting. The only lie that I ever told on Morianity, saved my sanity, as if the great ocean liner lifter could care fucking less if I live or die, just obey and surrender, or she'll fucking kick my ass. Well, I should have known that this would not be a good day, as last night, I had powerful interactions where I was swimming in the ocean, and was with her directly, as SHE IS THE OCEAN, laugh all you want, then when done with the laughing already, take out your KJV BIBLE, and read the first page in it, it will be the first of sixty-six books, called genesis, and hear how SSJKK was brooding right above her waters, well, SHE IS HER WATERS, and a lot more, but still, there is magic in what I know, and in that first page of Holy fucking scripture, folks. Stew on that one, all you dam ass greedy fishermen, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!

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NIGHTY NIGHT ON A REAL BAD BOT!