LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING
MORIANITY PART 5,
SO
PLEASE ENJOY THIS CHAPTER NUMBER XXXV
NOW.
OH
LOVELY LUNA,
AKA DIANA ARTEEMIS, AKA,
'THE MOON'
Jupiter,
Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.
|
WELCOME
TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS.
Anyone
can join and the price is FREE.
Here
is a little bio information about the Head-Morian, as requested by
the original blog website that I joined in 2006 to begin my blogs and
the Morianity-Project:
theansweristheqyuestion
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile views - 2779
My blogs
About me
|
Gender |
Male |
|---|---|
|
Industry |
Non-Profit |
|
Occupation |
paranormal
researcher |
|
Location |
Hammonton,
New Jersey, United States |
|
Introduction |
Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly
say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived
here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with
awareness. |
|
Interests |
I
close my mind to nothing |
|
Favorite
Movies |
all
old movies |
|
Favorite
Music |
most
old music |
|
Favorite
Books |
The
winds of war, Time
travelers from our future, Gone
with the wind, |
You
forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and
olive pits?
An
angry mother. Also,
a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At
the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure
of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.
Now
before we proceed with the blog, see this:
MORIANITY-5-----SO
SAHWEE SALVADOR OLD BUDDY, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
WHERE
DOES IT ALL GO, GRACE COOPER RIVER PARK MESSENGER, 4 YEARS LATER?
Governor
Jesse Ventura talks about time travel, in ways that totally connect
up with stuff from my own personal life; including the chance that
his own distant relative, Salvador, was sent to me in 1965, to show
me, and not Miss Wescott; how to tap my fingers in really cool ways,
so that 'lightning' will respond to this, up in 1983; on a telephone
receiver. Do not bother clicking here, the site was removed, slow
Bobby; but maybe our pal fast Jesse will wrestle around with us later
on, watch out for Elisa, big boy.
YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983
NEW
2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC TRACK ALONG WITH ARE UP AT
THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, LIKE DUH:
Only
the opening title words are real.
To
sing along with the new 2012 lyrics, go to my blog and click the SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, and scroll down until the page comes up with
the words to the song, YO. If you do not like techno-pop music of the
early and middle nineteen-eighties, there are other songs at the same
site, http://youtube/paulaking2011/
so go there and have a blast.
NOW
THIS PARTICULAR BLOG WILL BEGIN RIGHT HERE:
1:25
PM-EDST, THURSDAY, APRIL 4, 2013
RED
ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED
ALERT—RED ALERT
This
is not a mother fucking drill, Captain James Tiberius Kirk of Star
Trek fictional television. Sorry Trekkers, this is my life we're
talking about.
My
health has been struck hard, both heart and bowels, with death beams.
My next door nabes began blasting music and at the same time, my
local nuclear plant began its up and down the street quarterly rounds
of loud squeals and 'this is a test, this is only a test' blaring
through a bull horn. It went on from roughly just past noon until a
quarter shy of one. Then along came the across the hallway in and out
doors after all of this. I AM UNDER A REAL HEAVY FUCKING DEATH SIEGE
TODAY, PAM BONDI, STATE ATTORNEY GENERAL, FBI, STATE AND LOCAL
POLICE, SHERIFF KEN MASCARA, AND OTHERS, JUST FOR THE RECORD IN CASE
I AM FOUND IN HERE DEAD AND MURDERED.
Someone
did not like the last blog that I posted up, and the joke is on them,
as this is merely opening a door, and I'll take things way beyond
that. As I told the United States Copyright Office back in 1984, Miss
Blake and Mister Rambo of American Telephone and Telegraph; please be
advised, my attorneys will contact you. Don't be surprised when they
make your life so blue. Perhaps you have surmised all the crap you've
put me through. And though you sing your lies, my story comes out
true. I could tell you where to go to hear the melody and to just
make make the first of four notes move upscale one full note higher,
but will not. Lads, Lassies, Labbers, and Labrador Dogs, and any
and all others reading these words, whenever, and however, and yes
Robert Andrews old buddy, WHATEVER, from Haddon Heights, New Jersey,
do you really think I have not basically put this entire thing all
together, right down to Taren getting busted in Delaware for drugs,
perhaps even by the father of the Trinity Authorities, who can know,
all though, the Martino's seem to do a great job of keeping the
roadways clear of the snow and ice after the blizzards strike. Then
of course, comes about nine hundred and fifty eight other things that
never made a tad bit of sense until I stopped seeing it all as merely
isolated events all those years, and saw how the All mighty did all
of this to me ever since she did the chain miracle visitation, and
then came back onto the scene, (soon) thereafter, with all of this,
right Russell T. Thaxton? Yes poor dumb little me, so stupid he
cannot ever properly add up one and one and not believe the lies that
this equals nine and a quarter. I feel really tempted to tell a few
huge things, and only what I can prove, as many things leave big ass
paper trails, if that is, one is looking for them. I speak of the old
Glassboro State College, and just how things are worth half a billion
USD to some, that I seemingly was able to do a few simple little
tricks. We touched on this in 2010, but need not heat up the issue
again right now on a parallel highway, and as I speak, the Microsucks
Magic Lanterns of Nora Weist are trying to make my computer crash out
at 1:45. Maybe the Nationwide Insurance Company is trying to access
me, huh Don and Dick. Did you know my father embarrassed the entire
banking world with his story about the LIRR, and Heinz Gottwald the
great, had to set the story right, in front of an already messed up
teenager, me, just hours after what the Project BB folks might call
the highest possible encounter number kind? Maybe they wanted to up
set me to the point that I would try and drown myself off of Fire
Island when Cousin Kathy and her fiance' took me there, uh-oh,
time-lines don't match up, huh Facebook, ouu-ouu, that won't work, no
Facebook yet. Does any of this deserve a WOW? Well, whether that be
the case, or NOT, Miss Blake, did you ever watch that old Twilight
Zone show with Miss Finch, and the broken phone line laying across
the gravestone of a dead lover? Well, if somebody even back in the
days of Rod Serling, was not privy to all of this fucking hellish
shit, then you tell me what the fuck is going on, somebody. Since I
feel like a train has hit me, thanks to the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE,
you can gladly keep your nice fresh Three Stooge Fish,
so yes, spin around going whooo whooo whooo old pal Curly, I need a
great laugh, and I don't need any memory of how Dawn King escaped the
charges against her with the cleverest maneuver since Clarence Darrow
walked into a court room, Mister Atlantic County Prosecutor, in New
Jersey.
I
will let you all go for now, but very soon, I'm telling, as the
school snitches would say, and heads will roll on Wall Street all the
way down Fifth Avenue, and the a lot of other folks will be looking
for caves to hide in as well. Enjoy your fish.
If
you like to sing and eat at the same time, get a copy of al Roker's
great new TV commercial, and then have a blast singing along, with a
picture of Sat Nurine, Julia White, Robert McGuire, and Frank Callio
sitting in front of you, as this will keep the weight off all of the
Carpenters, because when you have eaten to your fill; you suddenly
will succumb to the irresistible urge to regurgitate.
VERSE
ONE
I'm
so very happy for you, pales of fish so fresh and new
Let
me ask you really nicely, could you spare us just a few
Oh
my wife and kids are starving, could you help us make a stew
We're
down and out, and we will even go to work for you
You
seem to have about a dozen giant pales or two
I
am so weak and faint and do not wanna' be so blue
While
we slept inside the dunes, somebody stole my shoe
Oh
please kind sir, just take some pity, let us work for you
We'll
help in any way we can, and be your loyal crew
But
greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
And
I'm not giving any freaking fish away
VERSE
TWO
So
when you add your salty tears directly in the sea
And
when you're done your song of woe, that you have sung to me
Just
take your wife and kids, and jump right off this big jetty
And
right into the undertow, and stop annoying me
And
talking on and on and on, and bothering my fish
You
loud annoying bleeding hearts, that beg and cry and bitch
I
have lots of work to do, and buckets must be filled
So
either leave this jetty now, or someone might be killed
Guys
like me must catch our fish, like farmers fields get tilled
People
say I'm cold and cruel, on every single day
But
I have got a lot of freaking bills to pay
So
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
THREE
They
say the greatest mother lies there out beyond the sand
And
mothers can get angry when their kids are out of hand
Storms
blow out of nowhere and, a lot of folks have died
The
sea can give and take away, while many tears get cried
And
on one very special day, a greedy man was drowned
Ignoring
waves that swallowed rocks with heavy pounding sound
Just
another bucket and, then he'll have caught his fill
A
lot of daring fishermen forget the sea can kill
The
king fish of the jetty, just was never seen again
Yet
locals claim the winds still howl these words from fisher Ben
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
So
yes I have a lot of freaking bills to pay
And
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
FOUR
You'll
be crossing over, later wishing you'd been nicer
You'll
be crossing over, through the quantum waving splicer
You'll
be crossing over, hearing all the trash they're talking
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll have to keep on walking
You'll
be crossing over, watching all the others eating
Feasts
with banquet tables, where the fish keep on repeating
Forever
seeing many fish, but never on your plate
You
had your time back in the sun before you sealed your fate
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll be a lonesome rover
Forever
doomed to hear the words you always used to say
That
you've been working hard out in the sun all day
Oh
yes we knew you had your freaking bills to pay
So
you're not giving any of your fish away
END
OF SONG.
Ladies
and Gentlemen, I really do not think this will stop between the
Project Bluebook Milituforce and me, until one of us is dead. So the
problem is that I don't think they can die. Me, I have tried to die
for nearly 40 years, and it does not look like I can either. Did
George Burns say it so well that it needs little nobody me to
immortalize his words? WHAT
A MESS!
END
TRANSMISSION, BACK LATER WITH HUGE TATTLE TAILING, UNLESS THIS
FUCKING SHIT BREAKS OFF!
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