1:25
AM-EDST, 12 APRIL, 2013, FRIDAY MORNING
***MORIANITY
PART FIVE***
A
child knows that a lot of stuff can be learned by visiting my Youtube
site, that will be gone forever very shortly. Your loss folks, not
freaking mine. Truths are told cleverly.
THE MASTER SHEET FOR MORIANITY PART FIVE:
Add to Your Facebook Timeline
Showcase
your uploads, Stories and other recent activity on your Facebook
Timeline. You're always in control of who sees what - you can turn
it off or remove posts at any time.
theansweristheqyuestion---at BLOGGER
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile
views - 2779
My blogs
About me
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Location
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Hammonton,
New Jersey, United States
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Introduction
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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.
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Interests
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Favorite
Movies
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Favorite
Music
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Favorite
Books
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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.
If
you have read this opening, feel free to skip this part.
FOLKS,
AS I SAID TO THE COPYRIGHT OFFICE IN THE LATE EIGHTIES ON MY EPITOME
OF HARASSMENT TAPES, GOOD MORNING, GOOD AFTERNOON, GOOD EVENING,
WHATEVER THE CASE MAY BE. How can I possibly know when you are
reading what I am writing? I AM not the great ISISCYLLA SARAH-STACEY
JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE, and never will be, sort of like my old pal
David Charles Roth's only show in town. How he would always remind
me, seemingly on a daily basis, that the WOMO-MILITUFORCE is not the
only show in town, nor will they ever be. I believe the tapes are
somewhere available in the great Library of Congress, Copyright
Office, in Washington, District of Columbia, a place may I add with a
very liberated attitude where the age of sexual consent should be
placed, and what is good for the lawmakers, is good for everyone
else, and if that is not true, just exactly how have I misspelled
America? XIII is the number by the way, such a tender age and how the
perverts must wonder why this is not common knowledge and all move
into our great capitol city, right Roy? I still cannot believe that
you told me this, or that nobody seems to know it, know matter how I
spread around what you said to me, old
pal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
will be the master sheet for PART 5 of MORIANITY.
You
may skip through this by scrolling, any time, folks.
Jupiter,
Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING
MORIANITY PART 5,
AND
I HOPE YOU HAVE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER
NUMBER 00043.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
A
beautiful shot of LUNA, also known as the moon, and Goddess Diana, by
the Romans.
|
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:
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 |
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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. |
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Interests |
I
close my mind to nothing |
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Favorite
Movies |
all
old movies |
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Favorite
Music |
most
old music |
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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 complete the blog, please see this:
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.
I
talk a lot about my copyrighted music, so here it is, folks.
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Well,
this will not be long tonight, I am off to sleep in a few minutes.
Enemies hit my health recently, and I have felt lousy. Death rays
come in all flavors and types, and anyone who knows squat about the
military's present technology, does not laugh these words off any
more, that is yesterday, so only the cave folks are roaring and
mocking me.
Neighbors
were noisy for a short while back in the afternoon, and then it broke
off. When this happens, it is always a Wall Street attack, I have
known this fucking shit for 30 years now, and have lived through his
cunt lapping nightmare as well, I should fucking ass know it by now,
huh Mister Joel. I would just say BJ but do not want other potential
initial owners angry, as I may get myself spit at. In any event, life
goes on, with or without any particular piece and part of it in
separateness, right Jack and Diane? So how long am I supposed to
remain the endless high speed-78 NKIT (New Kid In
Town)?????????????????????? They say a biblical generation is 70
years, depending on what part of the mover/shaker ''they'' it may be.
Some say 40 years and some say lesser amounts, but 40+ years have
passed since the reestablishment of National Israel, and the world
has not been revisited and taken over, or has it, the old argument
that things happen on spiritual levels, and the prophets may have
tended to let their physical world imaginations run a bit wild. I am
on the fence still on that, but let me go on with the topic of a
biblical generation.
If
we examine a direct scripture in the KJV Holy Words, it says that
the generation will not die off or ''pass away'' to quote the
translation, that National Israel is reestablished, and most folks
who went to tenth grade and paid some attention to the history
teacher, knows this was in the year of 1948, a powerful set of
numbers, and for a powerful lot of reasons, we need not concern
ourselves with at this exact time. So the very possible longest time
is 1948 plus 70 years, if this scripture is not a total lie. Kin
other words if the gods do not take over the planet by the year of
2018, anyone dumb enough to remain in this Christianity nonsense, is
a dam fool. It is either real or it is not real, and everyone basis
the fact that it is true on a simple parlor trick called THE
MIRACLES. Because I can push a magic invisible button and the
world quakes and the dead rise, you better believe what I say, wow,
sounds like a very advanced physics parlor trick to me, and all my
life I've dealt with very stern and austere religious folks around
me, and telling me the world will end here, and there, and here and
there, and it never ends, and I was there and heard this shit over
and over again, and quite frankly world, I am tired of this bullshit.
The words in the book are clear for 2018. If it does not happen, we
need to throw our bibles in the trash can or the fireplace, and move
on. The experiment for whatever reason, to make humanity a little bit
better, somewhere down the long road of 1800-2200 years, has failed,
and as Mister Esolph says, that's that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There really
is no getting around this prophecy, it is written clearly, and never
since the first 3 centuries or a bit longer, in the Roman Empire, did
Israel reform, not until my just before the start of my human
lifetime, in 1948. Add 70 years for the generation where this happens
with not passing away before I return, says King Akoslem, AKA, our
SAR or LORD JESES, the Messiah or the CHRIST, AKA Jesus Carpenter.
BUT good folks, this returning of the great SAR is a complex issue.
There are believers in alternate Christianities that do not think the
Antichrist or the Christ, will come here in a body form. If I get
into this tonight, I may as well prepare for a nuke bomb to strike
Vero Beach, Florida 4 hours after I post, as I'll need to get into
what really happened in Texas just before I got out of school in
Philly in 63, at the Book Depository, and how the McGuire's have a
beyond weird sense of responsibility for protecting the good precious
name of this unfathomable family, and not tarnishing it with the
Entertainment World scum, to quote Bobby McGee himself, and his very
nasty ass father, a long time ago, when McGee was a teenager, and not
only broke poor JJ's heart, but even had her murdered cleverly, along
with others, and all the Warreners in the world can investigate until
the Cow Leos come home from pasture, and this will never come out,
any more than Paula king raping me the first weekend in July of 1969
underneath the Atlantic City Central Pier. They planned it all and
now they're just a laughing with glee, Copyright Office, while
something really bad is now a happ'nin' to me, and that's the way it
goes, with or without lots of dangerous fields around 10SC Avenue,
right Rodney old pal????????????????????????????? These songs were
not written by me, they were written by me and whatever else is
behind this great big mess, Mister Burns, sir. I often wondered what
a team those two might make, you know, Burns and McGuire Match. This
is a far fucking cry from any match dot com up here in the dam ass
future, YO. Maybe even, I could say it would literally be a match
made in HELL!
Don';t
get me started with this beyond unfathomable and beyond inconceivable
family from beyond the stars. I will only say one thing tonight. All
around us are other things that normal folks accept as part of the
realness of life, and the entire time, it is a huge parlor trick, as
is life and death itself, IF you have the magic skate key, right
Melanie Dworkin Safka? I refuse to open this Pandora's Box on this
blog. If they back off and leave me alone, fine, as I can feel some
real shit around me, and if it backs out of my life and my face, I
will shut the fucking shit up, mister Sidney Shameful Cohen of Haddon
Avenue. If not, well then, I will do some pillow talking of my own,
page turner Daddy, so dive in, dive on, and say hi to my lovely VQ
Mariloo, other MC. How many god dam MC's R there in this wild
equation, Albert and Daddy Parks????????????????????????? Crissake,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
WILL SAY NITE-NITE, and E/T folks, for now, here is recent blogging
CAP work so you need not click to review older blogs from this point,
so BYE-BYE, y'all, yo!
6:00
AM-EDST, THURSDAY, 11 APRIL, 2013
I
know I've worn out my cosmic welcome with proving how
transdimensional phenomenon is all throughout my personal life,
perhaps yours too, some of you, only you'll go through life endlessly
unaware of it. You need to be looking for it in most cases. It is
like not killing ants. If you
love
ants, and do not wish to hurt them as you walk through your daily
routines; you'll need to be extremely vigilant and cognizant of them,
and all of your steps. The majority of us don't care if we kill some
ants as we move through our daily affairs, and we do I'm quite sure;
and are never even remotely aware that it ever even occurred. Forgive
the little parable my good folks, but it's simple, and tells what I
need to say, right up front and basic.
I
used a lot of this cosmic high math talk, when my blogs all started;
as this is also when things progressed a lot more than they already
were at with me and the star-family. The biggest one was the strange
way that two town areas in Jersey, Chatsworth and Hammonton, seemed
to reverse, in so far as being places I believed to be living and it
all seemed to switch over the course of one night, in my own head,
the night where I had the vision of the 6-9 rooms in the home owned
by Hammonton Judge, Frank Raso. The many postings that I made, talked
about this wild situation, and how the great pop diva MC was telling
me in this 'experience', that the blueberry and the cranberry
capitols of the world had reversed while I was with her in that
outlandishly unfathomable experience. If you read it through
carefully, it was only about 17 months or so later, when she did that
really wild cool movie, that the teacher character was given the name
that to me, was nothing short of my THIRD-SIGN, that was both given
to me by MC, and being unmistakable, and remember how I asked her for
a sign that this was more than just some wild crazy dream, and she
had given me two signs, the computer not working when doing my next
blog back on late June of 2008, as well as the switch of towns, but
the coolest part of all this was that one of these two signs, had a
second sign all built into it as well, you know BLU and CRAN as in
the berries, and then the character portrayed by gorgeous Paula
Patton, BLU RAIN. Rain and Cran are
about as similar as you can get without just duplicating the words
entirely, and BLU speaks for itself. Now this is also a part of more
than just getting a vision, and later on, three powerful signs, over
a nearly two year period.
Now
I cannot force anyone to believe a story as powerful as what led up
to doing these seven plus years of wild blogs, and a lot more as
well, but you will see if you're following this with any retention
and reading skills, even if you are fighting it with all your might;
that things are, as Ed Lynch Himacane would put it so well a while
ago; simply not always explainable rationally. Things do happen
around me that just cannot be explained. Forget pulsar star-ships
(literally) from 2007, forget all the wild stuff that goes and went
down, on the one and only Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, in New
Jersey; and a lot more, but how about another Venka Strongirl deal
going down right in front of my face for a year or two now, maybe a
lot longer. I cannot be sure so I won't lie and tell you I know when
the time lines all fit together with what I'm about to impart now on
this blog, but here it is anyway, plain and simple, and mind blowing.
This is a hurricane force mind blow, if you can't take it right now,
stop reading and come back to it when you're more in the mood,
please. I do not want to cause any health related issues online, with
what I will now say. It is a double whammy bubble, and it is a
whopper as well, Professor Obama Pepperwinkle Phonetransporter. Hold
onto your shoes, hats, and sanity, and don't eat any poison cupcakes,
chocolate or vanilla, and wow, yes, another transdimensional miracle
for you, oh great Sir Hawking.
Until
2 years ago, I did not know how to go up online and retrieve the
public record that now has been posted on numerous occasions to my
many blogs, of my musical works in the Library of the Congress,
Copyright Office, in Washington, 13-600 DOC. I suppose this time, my
Robbie slowness, was 'MY PROBLEM', on or
off of Grant Avenue. Folks, when Jesus was executed by the Roman
authorities nearly 2000 years ago to the day, and rose from the dead
a while later, it was so unbelievable that folks who saw our LORD
(SAR) had a brain-eye confrontation within their grasp of sanity.
Because folks just don't rise from the dead in that manner, as we all
know this was not like being brought back in 4 minutes by today's
modern miraculous medical technologies, we are talking the entire
story here of days and nights of being dead, and before he was
buried, he was pierced and all his inside liquid was gone, and he was
beat to a pulp and already in critical condition before even getting
up to the top of that Calvary Hill, and I could type on and on. This
was total death, no hoax, no tricks, no words on tapes that don't
belong, no Houdini stuff, just the real total McCoy of a dead man
rising out of death as never before in humankind history. To see
this, the mind forces the eyes to recognize a slightly altered
something; in his case, they would see Jesus as looking slightly
different, recognizable yet different, and the bible is quite plain
about this fact. Folks, I need not switch any gears here, it is all
really the same topic. It was enough of a shock to meet the King
branch of TAWF, and slowly get indoctrinated into how I was all
planned to fit within this star-family over millions of years, just
as the book, 'TPB' all basically predicted only with a slightly
different twist to it. How many shocks can anyone take? My own mother
said that, and the blogs already have a record of it; as half her
story nearly has been blogged, and as I said, I plan soon to do the
story in its entirety, and make it one entire chapter in my
Morianity. She talks about how one too many real bad mental shocks,
pushed her mind over the edge just past sanity, into a magic zone
where no shrink or DSM-5 book can even hope to ever properly probe
into entirely and expect to compile an ''All the answers'' data
booklet. Now when I started posting up my copyright song information
to my blogs, I quickly proofread stuff, and merely assumed that that
dribble in the middle in-between the pages describing my works, was
some sort of an example sheet, you know, like in school when a test
is taken, or anywhere, on a job or wherever it may be, normally, most
tests have sort of sample Q&A areas, so we can be sure we are
answering things the way that each particular test wants us to do so.
I had no idea until the ninth day of this month, just two days back,
on Tuesday afternoon, after posting the monster blog of Morianity
Part Five, Chapter 00041, that this was anything other than
some sample thing, I mean people, even Jesus does not get up after
nearly four days and nights, and rise from death; and the biggest
entertainment studio on the planet is not going to be searching and
researching something about a total 'nobody-never-was' like Mark
Wayne Mohr. Well, Jesus did walk up and out of the tomb, and I did
not recognize a seeming impossibility either, and must now conclude,
that with all of my enlightenment, should I have lived back then as
Mark Wayne Mohr, all enlightened and everything, I too would have
been tricked by EYE-BRAIN illusion, and seen the great LORD a tad
differently. The absolute verification of that is this recent
revelation just 2 days ago. Here I am a total nobody, and yet, the
big big big boys are or were, checking me out. This would be
comparable to a fat pimply grossly ugly dude with a nose like a pig
and elephant ears, suddenly realizing he is being checked out by some
beyond red hot ravishing Manhattan super model. Things like this
don't happen. Lots of you believe this type of stuff about all of my
MORIANITY, and that is both fine, and normal. But read on to the old
blog now, and scroll down, and see it for yourselves, on that music
copyright page. See if I make up stories, like I made up the huge
huge bull rally in the stock market. The funny part of all of this,
is that the ninth of April was a day of fantastic revelation, yet it
was also a nasty-ass BOTBAR. In my life,
I have always noticed that on days where huge things happen, lots of
persecution is also there, as if THEY ALREADY
KNOW THAT THIS IS THE LAST DAY THAT I STAY IGNORANT ABOUT
A HUGE ISSUE PERTAINING TO 'THEM', this miserable evil demonic
LAMBRIGG CULT, known by many Earthly names, and told about all over
social media such as the great all mighty Youtube website.
No
matter how you shake it up people, why did it take me so long to see
this was not just a sample, and that I was being checked out by the
biggest peeps in the bizz for reasons only the gods can know; and
then the even greater pressing question arises, as it has to quite
naturally; why me, a total nobody? Most peeps send their stuff to
record companies, and try to get a deal, and one out of 1000 get a
deal, and one out of 100 of those deals are even successful in small
ways, nothing like the world of top artists for example. Here I am,
just an amateur not trying to join this click from hell, and they're
checking me out. If PP is out here, he must be climbing up the walls.
He was jealous of me from the day we met, and for reasons I will
never live long enough to even remotely be able to figure out. I am
the most miserable fucking human being on this planet. I think about
killing myself a minimum of three times a day, and wish for death
continually; and have been doing this since the age of 20, and I am
now nearly 60 folks, that is nearly 40 fucking years, good folks.
I wish
everybody only the best, I just want to go and die!
Well
it is time to post up and crash a while. Tomorrow, I will sign my new
lease for another year here in sunny paradise Florida,
WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW, and TD BANK. Be friendly with me LIGHTNING,
I miss you, and I love you, girl!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nighty-night
good folks.
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING
MORIANITY PART 5,
AND
I HOPE YOU HAVE ENJOYED THIS
CHAPTER NUMBER 00042.
THIS
IS A COMPILATION BLOG OF VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION, SO THAT
FOLKS CAN SCROLL DOWN, AND NOT NEED TO CLICK, OR DO ANYTHING OTHER
THAN READ AND SEE STUFF. EVERY SO OFTEN I'LL DO THIS TO KEEP IT ALL
IN ONE LONG BLOG, AND NOT AS SEPARATES. FOLKS TEND TO NOT WISH TO DO
ANYTHING BUT READ THE MOST CURRENT BLOGS FOR THE MOST PART, HENCE,
I'LL DO LONG COMPILATIONS FROM TIME TO TIME, IN ORDER TO COMPENSATE
FOR, AND APPEASE THE DESIRES OF, THE VIEWING AUDIENCE. NO PROBLEM AT
ALL, AND BE HAPPY EVERYBODY, OR JUST DON'T BE ME. THAT WILL DO THE
TRICK EVERY TIME, WITH NO HELP FROM ANY MAGICIANS.
It
is ten minutes shy of five in the morning, Tuesday, the ninth day in
April, 2013. I have officially severed my ties with the only
other website where I've been posting my blogs. I am tired of the
recent harassment I'm receiving there. Recently, my blogs no longer
appeared in the colors and fonts I wanted to paste in from my open
office system, and also, I could not post any photos there in my
blogs, or have any kind of working links to other places work, other
than the one connecting a viewer to the site here at BLOGGER, where
you're reading this, as you cannot be reading it any place else,
unless someone else pasted it somewhere else, which is fine by me. I
have no problem with anyone doing that, merely adding things to my
blog works without obtaining my permission, and that too was recently
done, some Youtube video, then after I complained on a following
blog, it was removed; so somebody had access into my blogs at
wordpress, to both add as well as remove stuff; and that is not
right, FCC, FBI, and ACLU. Or am I incorrect in my assumptions? Then
the very next day, there was a thumbs down on my 'Chemtrails
of 1987' Youtube video, and I can
only assume, whoever posted the other video onto my Wordpress Blog
Page, was retaliating. Why I do not know, as would he or she want
people posting stuff without his or her say so, onto their blog
works, and removed; all at the whim and will of an unknown internet
stranger? I have no ill will, you can thumbs down my work 1000 times,
up or down, it is activity, and activity is always a Google plus. In
any event, I have no facts to support my theories, but am indeed glad
now to be blogging at the one and only one website of
www.blogger.com/ as things are
quicker and easier, and less stuff goes wrong. When it does go wrong,
I can just try again later. Old fashioned folks like me are amazed
that the majority of folks really go through their lives never living
the golden rule. I mean really, do they stop and think before they do
something to another, just how they'd like it done to them by
another? No, they very rarely think about that, and in most cases if
they do, they laugh silently and don't really give a dam hell. You
know the old saying that I told you all came from David Roth, “Hurray
for me and fuck you”, he said back in the late eighties that this
is the new world attitude. I think it has always been right there,
merely increasing in some type of an energy along a linear if not a
total geometrically progressing timeline. Perhaps you've noticed that
I am not filling blogs up with my GAGA talks, or for that matter,
many things recently talked about. I'll bring it all back, but for
now, this is not the time. You may have also noticed a very strained
family situation escalating since around the time I was fired from
the Harvest Food Outreach Center. If I told all the things I have
come to learn, you would do one of two things depending on just how
human and decent you are. You would feel sorry for me and what I've
gone through at the hands of many powerful evil world owners, AKA the
WOMO, but the vast majority would side with the greats, they cannot
be in the wrong, not if they are wealthy, and they are successful,
and they are in family units all huddled so nicely and neatly
together, and especially if they are name recognized, and on and on I
could go. This is just the way it is folks, don't think I don't
realize and fully accept reality. I am the most real person you will
find out here blogging, no matter how many mother fucking wild
stories you hear from me that sound as utter total fish tales. My
very last wild ''fish tale'' is not even 24 hours old, just to give
you all a very quick view of the frequency of all of the wild shit
that is happening all around me on such a major consistent and
continuous never ending basis. Well folks, this Chapter Number 00041
has nothing to do with being woman, or Helen Reddy, or being called
'baby'; but it does have one single minded goal. It will tell you one
particular thing, and then I'll CAP in the compilation blog, so you
can study the timeline order of my life, as I've been saying to do
all along, and you then can see the power, of my beyond mysterious
and hellishly fascinating life, come alive for yourselves; in ways
that trek far out into the beyond and unbelievable, and outlandish
regions of a million twilight zones.
Nee-Nee-Nee-Nee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Folks,
every human on Earth wants to have proof that there is something
beyond the Planet Earth, something beyond physical death, something
somewhere more than the natural order of things, than humankind sees
as within a normal boundary of the acceptable. This proof is right
here, and it used to exist in Hammonton, New Jersey, USA, and now
exists to the south of there nearly 1400 miles, in Fort Pierce,
Florida, USA. IT IS ME. To
you, this is another one of Mountainpen's many fish tails. Only I
happen to totally know that you are all dead wrong, and that all the
things I've told you, including this bold statement; is correct, and
absolutely accurate. I live in a world of pure unadulterated
butt-wipes. I can stop the aging process, alter regular time, change
major weather patterns, cause frightening destructive disruptions in
this planet's biosphere; and this has all been happening, since my
life crossed-over from being a little crazy and weird, to off the
wall outlandish and totally off the scale bizarre cubed. Late in
1984, I sent a set of music to the US © Office, titled, “WHAT'S
WRONG”. I had a bad erase head on my open reel RUSS-1500 mastering
machine, and I know that a conversation was heard, and I also know
that they asked me questions about how I could have certain not yet
invented apparatus in my residence. It was at this time that planes
began flying, lower and lower, around the home I resided at on
Highland Avenue, at work at Macintosh in Mount Laurel, New Jersey,
and then came military choppers, also, lower and lower as time
progressed onward. Oh yes Mary, you recognized that I really did give
things the old college try, and you are one of the few peeps counted
on one hand, who has my genuine respect; to this very day. But still,
huh Lenny? Moving this right along, I have the goddess of this entire
cosmos angry with me, but that will pass. We've had our little tiffs
before, whether or not she remembers it on a human level or not. It
is only important that I remember it. Folks, you cannot think I am as
stupid as you do sometimes, and I know that you do. My brain is
indeed wired quite weird. I need hands on rote tutoring, and cannot
learn the way the new world forces many to learn; especially once out
of the initial twelve grades of basically free school in America. I
may be a tiny bit 'Robbie-slow', fast Jesse; but once I do 'GET IT',
then it's off to the races, and THAT is what RORO and the gang,
according to DC ROTH, are all so dam afraid of, and have been for
close to three decades, perhaps a lot fucking longer. I am not able
to swear on a stack of bibles, some precise time line, as these
pricks can move in and out of ''regular-time'', so things are not
always the same as they once should have been, not quite. There are
small gaps and changes in 'reality', whatever that really is. It may
take me twice the time to get up to speed when learning something,
but once there, I can come up with a hundred never before thought of
ways, to reinvent the entire deal. This is just how I am wired up,
there is no changing that; but as an adult, and someone alone in the
world and out of school; this leaves me totally fucked. People are
too busy to ever help me until I can do these simple tasks, and this
leaves me years and years before I can finally write my mother
fucking name in the sand. BUT, once I can, I can invent a new beach,
a new ocean, and five new languages. Folks not being willing to ever
work with me, PROVES right here, one of the preambles to my point a
few paragraphs back about how my very existence proves a supernatural
reality indeed exists, and we've not come an inch into cracking a
light year fucking surface, folks. And no folks, I have not forgotten
to print my mother's story of her failed office romance from 1976. It
is way too connected into all of my own life up here in this rotten
screwy future, for me to ever ignore it, and not print it; so just be
patient, as it is coming. I never ever forget stuff. I may block
painful shit for a while, Mizz Daniels, and thank you for entitling
me back in 1980, mahm! WOW, I had my reasons for not being real
gungho about IRC's. I do not care what others do, and am behind
anyone all the way, but I was suppressing some nasty shit, right flu
shot Aunt Ruth Huntington Gottwald, wife of the SR. V.P. of the
second largest bank in the world in 1972. Hay, I don't want your
rotten old ice cream, Uncle Heinz, hell, my luck I'd start a real
LIRR tradition, and really embarrass you; and we cannot have that now
kind sir, right on? You take it from here Dawn and Dad,
“SHEEEEEEEEEIT”.
I
just want to say one little thing to my ex biz part PP before I end
the blog and begin CAPPING in the compilation. I'll bet you, as my
electronic phase four cuzz would say, five meeeyun dollars, that if I
had blogged that I hid under my bed and sobbed for a week, you would
have called back like a mature dude and let bygones be bygones. But
when I told how I rolled around on the floor roaring at your immature
anger over the PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP thing, you had my blood in your
sights, and you know it. You would have come down here and iced me
with ISIS, if you thought you could do it easy, and be guaranteed to
get away with it. PP, you told me I act 10 years old, well, put us
together and we'll have a combined age of 13, without any argument
from me. From the go-bat, it was all your way, no give and take
whatsoever, the option was always the highway, only while the
$$$$$$$$$ was there, you were careful. Once you bled me dry old pal,
you dropped me off of the dam Empire State Building, like a fucking
hot potato, and never even watched or cared where I squished out,
down on 34th Street. You know, fuck me PP, what I say is
meaningless. But if you were to die tomorrow, don't be so smug and
arrogant that you won't pay for ruining my life and laughing at me as
I went down in your flames, you fucking rotten dirty bastard.
Well
for right now, that kind of wraps up things from Mobil Gas Stations
to Lady Korea's and Maria Deavettanegomez or however that wild name
of yours is pronounced. All things considered, I have received some
amazing information from GAGA this year, I have continued to average
9 units weekly all year on my systems roulette despite a major crash
and a major total failure; staging two fantastic come backs. My big
loss was the Avalon Studio, but that was no loss, that was a kibosh
job. All things this big, and that pertain to music,
always are; and all trails seem to lead back to 1969, so I guess
that's the way it goes, right © Office? In a way, it did me a favor,
and this can be further discussed at a later time, and certainly will
be. I can sit here making jokes and being the funny man all day and
all night, but the truth does not alter. If I did all of this to the
satisfaction of the great and mighty Terry Egghead, from the Jersey
Harbor, in 2007 somewhere thereabouts; it really would blow the world
away, but it would take me weeks of non-stop effort and very
difficult work to get that all perfectly arranged in some kind of
order that would even come close to the standards of the great Miss
Terry. You know, singing songs to a heart in broken agony, has place
in the Holy words that humans on this Earth used to live by unless
they wanted to end up in public stockades in ancient Europe. I don't
need to put anyone in the pain stalls of yesteryear, merely to point
out to the WOMO, that there are indeed eternal consequences for
continuously making me feel two point four inches tall; and down and
sad. Why you need to endlessly hurt me to the hilt just to bolster
your sad sick little twisted egos, is so beyond pathetic, that I
would feel as the monster, for not overlooking and forgiving this
rotten behavior; as much as is humanly possible anyway. Those who
need to know what's being said, I'm perdy dam sure they know, and
that they get these messages 100%. You're such gigantic hometown
heroes, are you not? W-----O-----W!
If by chance, some of the guilty's really don't know what's
being said, then you're worse off than me, as I cannot imagine being
a zombie, you know, a walking body with a fucking totally dead
spirit. Oh well, let me not get Roseann Delaney all excited on this
rotten morning.
Cousin
Don told me how Cousin Sandy's memory is winking out somewhat. For
someone with a bad memory, she sure remembered 1967, and her
teen-queen gang friends that summer. As much as I sort of fell in
love with all of them, despite my brutal gang rape at twelve and a
half, I got the year off by one, thinking that this all went down in
1968. Too many of my cousins all turned on me at precise times, my
Lauderdale Cuzz in 1994 over that silly religious discussion, I mean
are we dealing with levels of immaturity that dwarf PP here,
John-Stuart? Then Cuss Don deciding that this was our final
Thanksgiving meal together, only not just turkey was involved. He
never wanted to ever so much as speak to me again, and all because I
asked a few questions about Sandy and Atlantic City. Sandy always was
awkward about things, and knows that she and Callio have something to
hide until they're all dead and out of my dam hair. I had no idea
that both Frank and Victoria were out of this world by some time in
the year of 2007, Praise the Lordess.
When
1996 was the present, my mom and I, as you all may know, from the
earlier blogged true stories told; drove down to Tennessee Avenue, in
Atlantic City, on the 7th morning of December in 1996,
after I had that incredible I-Ching trance, that sent me into a
realm with the great Sarah-Stacey Krassle, where she saw me on
Tennessee Avenue, and said to me, and I can quote her after all this
time perfectly, “Let's play a game boy, called Guess the name of
the guests”. Instantly above where she was standing, there was Mary
Tyler Moore, and she was wearing her famous green dress, from that
episode loved by men everywhere, back in the early seventies; from
her show as a News anchor Team Worker in the twin cities of
Minnesota. The point is that this hotel always had balconies, all
though in this experience just before 5 AM that I awoke out of, using
the forward-mortal way of seeing the truth in reverse; but it never
had balconies facing the street itself except on the poolside of the
building. Here it was a larger building by far, and had rooms
extending all over the place, and they all had balconies. When I told
how Paula was going to throw me off the balcony on early 2006-2007
blogs somewhere, if I ever told what happened to me, and she grabbed
me and actually hung me over the balcony, until I gave my word that I
kept forever until my blogs came out and never telling my mother,
ever; and shortly after all of this went down, including this wild
dreaming-interaction, the hotel went from being sold to Indian owners
named Sheegee Kruppa, and then quickly to the hotel “CHAIN” known
as the SUPER 8. Once Super 8 had this
building in their CHAIN, and my
blogs had recently told of this powerful balcony incident; all of the
balconies were removed from this Tennessee Avenue resort Hotel, of
Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG. People are highly scared of
something, and if my story really was just a fish tale, and all
fictional like a Patterson Novel; folks would not feel so compelled
to quickly make stuff I mention, vanish and disappear
into OZ, huh Glinda? We can get back to this, and always
can, with or without Jim Rockford, or fist fights. But Still, right
Lenny? So 'WWYWINY' to tell me a lot of awesome powerful truths about
all of this; all you wonderful folks that should be on my side of
this fight? Maybe Sam Walton has the answer, but if not, the Son of a
Maintenance Man sure may, as he saw one of the star family for
himself, dam near 17 years ago, enter my front door, only I have a
totally gapped out memory of the 40 minutes that Paula King was
there. Sound familiar, McGuire?
Enjoy
your day folks, while I cry myself to sleep as usual, hoping my
wonderful PEE will cross over, and find me somehow. I
believe in you my wonderful lovely PEE!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
that was hours ago, and I did not cry myself to sleep, but I AM UNDER
SOME HEAVY SIEGE TODAY, SHERIFF MASCARA, SIR, AND LOCAL PEEDEE.
I
went to bed and got up, and then went out after cleaning up for the
day in the shower. A lot of low flying loud private airplanes are all
over the place. A constant buzz sound is all over town. I went to
have my taxes done for free at my local library, and will be getting
a refund of ninety dollars in about a month, give or take some days.
Every tiny little bit freaking helps. I have tall and giant pussy's
all over the place, even sneaking around on my floor with weird
people I do not know from Evesham Medford Witch Uwich Scam. The giant
slutogram is operating at high tempo, and so is the major fucking
general overall hostilitygram. It is very hot and humid on top of
this shit, I am sweating like a fucking pig. At least I'm only
sweating, while many around me don't need to sweat to earn that title
from me. Many dirty looks are all over, peeps shooting mother fucking
daggers at me like I just raped their granddaughter or something. I
never do anything at all, and people just mother fucking despise my
living guts. It is all a part of this nightmare fucking HUNTINGTON
CURSE.
Well I have lots of good food and deserts in the place, lots of great
movies to watch, and screw the world, as I'm in for the dam week, and
I'll call 911 if anyone starts messing fucking with me too bad. I'VE
HAD IT WITH THIS FUCKING ASS SHIT, YO! It
seems that for the past week or two, everyone everywhere with little
exception is programmed to hate my guts, and act on that accordingly,
BRAH. Some evil supernatural power is acting on this, just as Jim
Burr claimed all along, when he somehow fucking innately just knew,
and I am quoting him exactly; this was all
some “Family problem”, way back in 1974,
and I used to think like all of you out here, that this guy is a
wacko fucking sike case, cubed. Well
let me get this blog done the way I want, so that I can relax for a
while. I will tell lots of beyond red hot power secrets later on,
unless shit fucking goes away that has been turned on against me, and
those who know how to activate this light-switch, know who and what
they are. Ouch Mizz Delaney, cross over my ass, I have a nice big
cross over near my bed, a holy cross, so stay away, Paula U Witch.
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING
MORIANITY PART 5,
I
HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS. THIS HAS BEEN
CHAPTER NUMBER XLI.
There
still is a lot more to read that is CAPPED in, please do so!
MOUNTAINPEN, AKA MARK WAYNE MOHR
©
BLOG URLS OF MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2013
Florida
Attorney General Pam Bondi
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I
know you are doing your best to watch over me, AG Mizz Bondi, thank
you. Feel free to contact the Wirtz detectives in Camden County in
New Jersey, Ron Senior knows my problem is all real, but his hands
are tied, you what I mean.
3:26
PM-EDST, MONDAY, 8 APRIL, 2013
Folks,
my computer clock was set back again, either after I have been awake
this afternoon, or even some time in the morning after posting up my
prior blog work to the net.
My
health has been hit, not major, a little bit, and the sky has some
jet dissipation up there from earlier heavier pattern activity that
either blew in or was direct at an earlier point.
There
is a worm virus in the machine and has been. They know everything I
do, I type, I go to on the net, all things. It is as if they are
sitting right here at the keyboard. I never understood this back in
June of 2008, nor did I understand Beaver Drive and Trout Lane, and
the FISA and how my trailer was entered by nice loving kind folks who
I pay taxes to support with very hard work all my life, until their
endless persecutions crippled me into disability in 1994.
The
minute I commented back a little message at my Youtube site from
someone else's comment, a thumbs down on the video appeared. These
things tell me I am not imagining anything. I would have been a lot
happier, Mary Moore, if I really was just crazy, and yes mahm, I
should have stayed somehow endlessly away from all of this. I don't
know exactly how things happened around 1994-1996 where this
Pandora's box got cracked wide open, only that first, it did,
secondly I must know deep down inside somewhere, the worst secret in
this entire family, and third, I have a very very very angry
daughter, don't I Ingrid Blake?
Now
in the movie on the MTM Network, since you are hot to trot today on
my electronic cousin's network, along with all of your friends, miss
lovely Greendress, yes poor you and me Mister President, we cannot
even say a woman is pleasing to look at anymore without the world
calling us sexists, so tell me, how do guys like you and me win?
we're damned if we do, and damned if we don't. If you don't make all
over a woman, she hates your guts, and when you so much as say she is
lovely, you're a rotten sexist. WOW, I'll bet you wish you were still
not staying in regular time, sir, I know I wish it for
myself. Yes Mary Greendress, in the movie called, “Secrets of the
Rose Garden” from 1996, your character had remembered a horrible
thing that you witnessed as a little girl, and it looks like my
mirror image to your character was on October 5, 2008, after coming
home from Cifaloglio Garage Security Duty; and falling asleep and
'remembering'. Well, at least you got rescued Mary, me, I have a very
powerful and angry little girl, who thinks it all was my fault, and
for 30 years, has played with me. Now your character was big and
strong and nearly killed you, while mine has what occultists call,
incredible supernatural power. I am powerless to fight this 30 years
later Miss Blakemoore, and the greatest corporations on the planet
all know this is real, as do all of the billionaires.
They
destroy everything I ever try and do, my entire life, you name it,
they kibosh it to death, and appear all innocent. Stop and think
about the lady in the bible with the Golden Nugget White gaming
chips, (me) and the wicked teasing evil wealthy players next to me
mocking me with their Black gaming chips. The Crowned
King of symbolism, huh Misses Elliot. At least I put you
out of your suffering back in 1985, and ended my parking problem that
should not have been my problem to begin with, always that connection
with the state, THAT 2 never goes away, and all seemed to begin with
the phone persecution of 30 years ago, right Marie De Gomez, and
others from 30 years ago? Yes folks, my problem is not my throat and
my choking, it was my doctor all along, my son of Sam lab technician
with the power to morph into the Mary Tyler Moore Show, and flash
green dresses that stretch from the twin cities, all the way to
Tennessee Avenue, 27 years in the future. Did anyone see that
gorgeous wormhole a few nights ago? If you did, you are keeping quiet
like good little boys and girls, huh Sarah Fiveparty? I'll tell her
where I was when she needed me, party or no party. I was under the
clutches of two very dominating and wild women, one known very well
to her, the other to me. Don't laugh Walmart, only you should write a
new song called, 'Suddenly I Hear', and then remake your commercials
with that song; and then have a picture of me leaving your store with
the cousins that day, driving home, going into my room, picking up
the phone to retrieve a message; and 'hearing', “Hi Mark, where
were you when I needed you as a child, click” In any case, SAM,
maintenance man or large store owner, sir; we all know the hell I am
going through, and that I should have killed myself the other day.
Maybe as Donna Summer put it so well, when alive and younger, “I
should reevaluate”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There
truly are some powerful and twisted gods out there beyond the stars
that shine so bright all through the coldest darkest night. You
remind me of a wind tunnel, great ISIS.
5:00
AM-EDST-PRIVECODE TIME 30 YEARS (+)(-)
IN
THE ILLUSION IT IS 8 APRIL, 2013, MONDAY
Folks,
I calmed down, and did not go through with the attempted suicide as
discussed in prior blogging. Still, Sidney Crown, Stuart Messenger,
and other funny-namers all pretty much agree that life is not what we
perceive it to be, we can even include Simon Baker, or at least his
part in one of multitudes of Shakespeare's plays. The closest thing
that agrees with reality in our sensory system is our eyes, as this
brings us speed of light reality, no delay. Sound travels much much
slower, and thought does not travel at all, but is why the entire
universe is here to 'begin with'.
Why
did my mom's old boyfriend change his name from Sidney Cohen, a
number of years before he asked my mom out on a date after they met
at a singles organization existing in those days, called SPS, (Single
Parents Society).
Well,
the explanation given to me was part of a thing we all know and hate,
shame. I was told he was ashamed of his Jewish heritage. This was not
said to me word for word. I was told he altered his name. When people
do this, there is always a reason, there is something to hide, and
there is shame. Something is wrong somewhere, but WHAT? Well, that is
of course, none of my business, unless it directly effects me. When
it does not, I don't poke into other peeps affairs, nor would I ever
have the remotest desire to do so. Now in the case of Mirrors Sidney,
he wanted to control me in ways not appropriate unless he was willing
to make a commitment to my mother and at least put a fucking
engagement ring on her finger. This was not in the picture, and all
though he had no living wife, his fear of taking the great marital
responsibility, is probably rivaled only by my own, after seeing my
parents fight and being poor and miserable. When I say something,
unlike the rest of the world, I do not change, I am a rock, with or
without a droid, and if Lurch Roro wants to do fisticuffs with me,
then bring it on, Gene Rotten Berry. Yes, Sidney Cohen was the name
of his heritage, but for reasons known not to me this blogger, he had
it legally altered to something that royalty wears, what a KING would
wear, or a national controller, a World Owner, yes folks, A CROWN. Oh
the great wonderful powerful Sidney Oz Crown. Do we laugh now, or
wait until Mister McNulty gives his written permission for a nice
series of aha's? Now what other powerful illusions does the great
American Tel and Tel have to offer me at this magical time of the
day, now, 30 years ago, and probably for freaking ever? Well let us
start to explore and examine the situation, OK Louigee Kent
Super-Henderson, kind sir?
Just
why did all of my unbelievable family all get born, live where they
all lived, did what they all did, and blah blah blee blee blum? For
that matter, why anything, and even concentrically, why not? George
Burns said it so well in that OH GOD movie decades back, to the also
late, Mister young girl lover, John Denver. But there is a little bit
more going on with this than a heirum of middle school females, plane
crashes, super family secrets, and powerful world renown
organizations, with or without any god dam Gallagher's, McGettigan's,
Callio's, or McGuire's. That folks, is gospel truth, in or out of
court or church!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I would take that to my
bank, but am still awaiting a nice WOW-TRUCK to come back and greet
me, over at my Fort Pierce, US Highway 1 BRANCH. In any event, let me
tell you why Sam Walton and his fine people are playing that silly
song over and over on that commercial; as it really is time to tell,
Randy Van-warmer my old pal. Oh yes, Rats-Tats, and even a little bit
of Jessica and her lovely game of football, gee willagars, are we
here in 2013 or back again in the twenty-ohs?
I
may have told my dirty nasty little story about a day at Wal-Mart,
with Dawn and Ann King, and I may have told something else, but it
all happened on the same day, in fact while I was out at this store
taking my fave family on errand gofer number 5867483745756876893. I
came home to a message from my daughter that makes me wonder if she
and Randy had not spoken earlier. I have said these words myself on
numerous occasions, you can use your own imaginations. It was in your
voice, lovely one, sometimes it is what is said, sometimes it is what
is not said. I pick up on things a million times sharper than others.
Sorry if that talent annoys folks, but hay, as Lenny Briscoe would
say, but still? My mother hid a terrible secret from me, world, and
there is nothing that I can ever do to change that. I know other
family members were also all in this conspiracy, and I wonder to this
very day, how the entire eastern world fits in because of two
gargantuan and non ignorable things. First, my Cousin Sandy, ending
up with mom and me, at the Trinity Hotel, spoken a little differently
if not in Southwest America, and befriending the great TAWF as
teenagers, and then the way my WFMU MacInvondi cassette tapes, had
such a profound effect at North Atlantic City, on the night before
Iraq invaded Kuwait. Now, there is Tony's Mobil Station, and then
there is the Haddonfield Mobil Station, and back in 1984, there was
this, and also, there was the great lady Korea, who phoned me over
and over. It is all on the blogs, it has all been spoken of and told.
This is why if I had a shovel, I admit, I would be digging my shelter
right about now folks, because this is a very serious set of
outlandish circumstances and coincidence all carried to the
quintessential extremes of ludicrousness. I will not be inviting any
more meteors to come visit either, for a while. Folks, laugh all you
want to, but I know what is happening; and I know that you are
making good and sure that all traffic is directed away from my
Youtube Channel, to lessen these transdimensional effects as much as
you can, without coming right out and admitting that all of my claims
are real and true, all this time.
I
can tell the entire world secrets bigger than the entire NSA knows
times a million. That will not serve to help me or anyone else. What
I hopefully urge those in power to do at this point, is realize that
maybe Bennett and Lynch are part of the ES, and were sent here by the
good side of this army, to have me create these seven plus years of
blogs, and the true story of MORIANITY, and now you must use the
GAWNUM to figure out the best course of action. The Holy words of
many religions tell about the coming invasion of the gods, Bluebook
did not invent this, nor did Einstein and his dam nuke bomb and E=MC
SQ. This is older than the hills and the trees and even Terry Jackson
and his seasons and suns. Scoff at this, me, or Morianity, at your
own risk, sawn you, WOMO. I tried to give a fair warning, and if
memory serves, I said middle 2013, big trouble will come. Search 4 it
from the middle of last year, as it is there somewhere folks, with or
without Chinese Earthquakes, British Petroleum and betting, even 20
and 2. Yes, I know who YOU were when I did not need you, Sarah
Jacobson, so hi yourself, and you rock, and you rule; and you always
will ISIS; that is never an issue with me. You did not have to tell
me this the way you did the other night, but I accept the fact that
you are All Mighty Sarah-Stacey Krassle, and you know what is best.
You go girl!!!!!!!!!!!!! IWALU. WOW, I got home from Wal-mart, and
suddenly I heard, yes Sam, son or no son, or maintenance man or no
maintenance man, just powerful water walking at Walker and Water
Streets, and powerful world laboratories. Yes, and two high schools
with astronauts and other similarities in it, one with an additional
T in it, gee, can it be, Hans Brinker Silverjeff of the great
Worshiping Hans Worshing, from the Philly BB? Double-triple WOW, and
GEE!
Folks,
it is a quarter before six on Monday morning now, and time for
beddie-bye. I mean no harm to anyone, I am only showing that none of
this is happening by chance, not Hurricane Katrina, Not Mary, not
Johnny Nash, or Jaqamini, or Garrigan, or foolio Coolio or Christmas
singing angels from Cooley Hall back in those times. The odds of all
of this being a random set of jumbled up nothingness, would be
trillions times trillions times trillions to one against it. Sorry, I
just report the news. I do not create it, Mister Gofer Hacks.
DON'T
WORRY DOC GARRIGAN, I'M NOT 2 HAPPY, YO!
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU HAVE NOW READ
MORIANITY PART 5,
HOPE
YOU HAVE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER NUMBER
XXXIX NOW.
7:41
PM-EDST, SATURDAY EVENING, 6 APRIL, 2013
A
lot of preachers and non preachers may remember how I recently did
that little church preacher thing, you know, talking about the
present topic, and then referring to Morianity, chapter and verse;
with showing older post sections. I did not do it exact and precise,
as that was not my intention to really go to town wasting a ton of
time on. For right now, let me say that I am a very paranoid and
persecuted individual. I cannot always tell friends from enemies, and
ISIS has been playing this nightmare game with me so long, 30 years
to be exact, on a daily basis now, and has left me a shell of a man,
PUN INTENDED, with or without any wooden or stone jetty's.
I
need to make a simple point now. Many people have said to me, WOW, do
you ever live in the present? Only their ignorance can help them to
make that statement, and I do not hold it against them. I am the
present. All that ever 'is is' the present, I
AM, WE ARE, YOU ARE, IT IS, ISIS, and all of that and more,
but the simplicity here is mind boggling. All though to the untrained
mind, I appear to have little if any present and am either speaking
of the future or in the majority of cases, the past, this again,
Mister Blaine Copperfield Houdini is PURE
ILLUSION. Expand and explain, you say, well fine then, I will.
My body is like your body, moving along in regular normal so-called
Einsteinian Space-Time. In case you never ever stopped to see this
fact, your body is a lot of ugly messy junk, so is your brain, at
death it is worth around a dollar. We are in body, a bunch of maggots
waiting to hatch, the second our blood is no longer circulating
around, we are future flies, as maggots hatch later on into flies, as
caterpillars become butterflies. What is YOU, is not that junky mess,
and a moron should be able to realize that this junky mess is just a
physical plane biological machine of sort, that permits a reality or
truth called MIND to exist in a tiny piece of separateness from a
whole total one MIND, or the sixth dimension. You are not who you
were at age 5 or 10 or 15, and if you are 40, who you were at 20 and
10, and if age 70, you're not who you were at 50 and 30 and 6. Right?
Do you feel dead? This is a natural moving process, and it does not
start in any individual human body, nor end in one. There is nothing
to fear in this extremely totally natural process. In 10 years, if
alive, no one out there will be who they are now. You will have a
degree of memory of what you think you remember you were, and that is
that, Esolph. Life, death, all of it, one powerful and silly little
illusion. Nothing can ever begin or end, and everything is in a loop.
All is a circle, a cycle, it goes around, it came around, it will
keep going around. My present is so powerful however, that all of my
many experiences from 1000 years ago or ahead, are part of that
present, don't try to climb into a hell like that. I more than any of
you, LIVE IN THE EVER PRESENT PRESENT. It merely contains a lot more
consciously preserved past and future in my beingness, than it
should, and the only possible reason for that, is this mind boggling
game that is going on between All Mighty Scylla (ISIS-SSJKK) and me.
Go ahead, read the last chapter, then read the insert, preachers are
having a field day with me, and even I cannot distinguish between HER
GAME, in so much as just who is who, who is doing what, who means me
harm, who wishes to help, and a trillion neutral areas all
in-between. Take pity on me folks, as I told PP years ago late in the
90's, 'I'm a hurting squirrel' and I guessed he thought it amusing,
as I remember a distinct laugh afterward. If someone was trying to
help me and be my friend, I AM sorry for flipping out. How can I ever
know who is trying to help or hurt me? I will give the moon and the
stars, to anyone, who can e-mail me an answer to that, and it really
works. I swear that under penalty of mafia retribution. I say this to
the great families or anyone, I'll give you the entire universe if
you can show me this magic. Nobody dares to promise the mob something
and not deliver if they deliver. So now, what does this blog all tell
you, oh wonderful 'folks'? You all have a nice evening and remember,
I am just a poor scared nobody with the world against me, and the
most powerful awesome Goddess above the stars against me as well.
What she said to me last night in a 'dream' is beyond unspeakable. I
have cried all day long.
I
will attempt to kill myself one more time later on. But I already
know I'll wake up on Sunday morning, and whatever I tried to do to
off myself, will just have been another dream, as I am still running
to my desk in pitch blackness, trying to get that rotten ass light on
my desk to go on, and it never will be later than 1972 for me, so it
seems. Watch out world, if that light ever does come on, it won't be
easy for me to forget or forgive all of this.
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING
MORIANITY PART 5,
I
HOPE THAT YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER
NUMBER XXXVIII, WHAAAAA.
3:19
AM-EDST, SATURDAY, APRIL 6, 2013
OK,
Mister Joel, time for some big time honesty, not that I was holding
back with intention of not saying all this, merely waiting for the
time that I personally for reasons no one need concern themselves
with, know is the right time, to just fill in some blanks that I've
left intentionally not filled in for quite some time, or filled in
maybe partially, maybe.
This
may appear from the onset that this is building into a huge blog, the
size of the last one only without being a mere compilation work, and
no, it will be not be all that long, so see if you can stay with me,
not that this matters all that much.
Good
people, I do not know you, you know me, this gives you a great
advantage in a cosmic chess game that you have no idea of its
importance, I don't care if the President Himself is one of my
readers, you have no clue what is happening, all around me, for my
mortal lifetime, and for eternity far out beyond any of that
childishness. There are things that have happened to me that go
worlds beyond what even the best television documentaries, or the
sci-fi buffs dare to go, or can go. I need not go there to make my
case or my point on this blog, but I'll do one better than
that, through the cosmic rear doors. Let me show you what I mean,
plain out simple, no fancy-shmancy words and rhetoric.
I
have told you many things, and promised to elucidate upon them, and
what I did not tell you, is this was conditional. If no one wants to
hear these elucidations, then time will tick by and pass, and not one
viewing person will so much as say, hay shit-head, where is the
details on this, or that, that you said you would be discussing. This
was not meant to be a one way forum, and after close to 7.3 years
now, it still IS A ONE WAY forum. As stated before, I cannot request
anything of anyone, but I can adjust the motive and goals of these
blogs, according to the response or lack thereof, to what I tell. It
is not as though I am talking about the next NASCAR Race or the next
biggest viral Youtube video, as you all know, I could care less. I
have bigger fish to fry, starting with scum bags nabes who have been
slamming in and out all day, and it is now 3:33 AM, and I'll be
dialing 911 soon. I have bigger things to worry about than the latest
dumb Entertainment World crap. It never did mean a dam thing to me,
and does not now, nor will it ever. My interests are in real things,
the EW is all about fantasy and things made up in the minds of those
who work in it, no matter what kind of art it is, even the art of
tremendous athletic ability. I do not condemn them, just saying I do
not have a lot of time for any of that shit, never did, never will,
because my life is real, and it is major fucked up, and it honestly
is that simple, no big bells and whistles attached.
So,
I will honor the one person who has asked me a genuine question about
the Astral plane, and try and understand that I do not live and
exist, all though my physical body or beingness does, in regular time
that moves in any one speed or in any one direction. It is like the
print you are reading, in numerous ways. The Spell Checker is
programmed to respond to this font, not red lining anything that I do
not spell incorrectly, yet look at the ridiculousness of the
printing, and see, I make up a word like adding NESS to ridiculous,
and it red lines me. I will use it anyway, fuck them, it fits. Now
suddenly like magic, the word is accepted. Even when I go to extreme
lengths to try and make powerful points, this time travel company
called Microsoft Saucer Aliens, and don't fucking laugh to quickly
peeps, as there is powerful shit in all of this; kicks in.
L-4,
let me tell you that I will never again say ladies and gentlemen,
L-4, or any of it, and will address the audience, whoever you all are
out there in magic-ozland behind the Q-Girl Twister Curtains of RORO,
simply as 'folks', and let me keep it there, for the simple reason
that I know as sure as I sit here now at this computer work station,
that a few folks are out here and have some type of personal interest
in what I print and post next. Then there are another group who are
the worriers, the WOMO Microsoft owners of everything, who are
plotting even as I speak, to kick me off the system, and they can do
it, believe me. But I'll beat them to the punch by exiting on my own,
strategically, and very soon. What I had hoped to accomplish,
actually backfired, and someone is laughing about that so loud, that
my 'soul' is able to hear it, and that is gospel truth. I wanted to
appease the great gods, now let us re-name this to anything that fits
your comfort zone, the owners of the world, you know
movers/shakers/fortune-500 etcetera, the one god concept of an all
powerful creator punisher god, or anything in-between these two
things that could range from a realm filled to the brim with multiple
powerful gods or advanced entities or whatever, and so on and so
forth, nearly endlessly, but I wanted to appease this force that has
been against me since the day I stood knee high to a stinky wart
covered toad, and instead, have angered this whatever it is, ten or
more fold, in this 7.3 years of blogging, an idea suggested to me by
a security guard coworker by the name of Christopher Bennett. As with
all things in my miserable pathetic life, I try and give it all I
have and push to the wall, and only end up realizing that Ida been
further ahead if I had relaxed with cable TV and not done one mother
fucking thing, an old argument I had with my miserable no good rotten
mother, and of course, lost the argument in utter total fucking
futility, as black and white irrefutable proof was not good enough
for that daughter of a slob. Hay good folks, she meant well, and
she'll always get an A+ from me on THAT, and ONLY on
that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still I've always been a
champion fighter for not bad mouthing anyone who tries, and she did
try, she just was as twisted and screwed up as anyone could ever get,
living here on this human realm. So I am going to say a few words to
ADS if that person is here, and if not, I can only cosmically major
apologize for the situation that I am indeed in, where I can watch
one half of a football game in 1995 and the other half right now, and
to me it is one game, and it matters not one tiny speck that more
than 17 years passed. Don't try to crawl into my head or be me, you
won't like it in fucking there, folks. When someone who is real and
on the up and up wants to know how time can run in various ways by
simple seeming magic tricks, and why humans and other beings on Earth
need to sleep and dream, and all the real details that are light
years ahead of where anyone is right now in any university or in any
documentary on television, and a million other things, then ask, and
I will tell, otherwise, my blogging will become just a journal. A
mere Beaver Cleaver diary without Roseann Delaney or anything else,
not even a set of rail road tracks to worry parents. Gee, not even
symbolism. You have no idea what you will be missing, if that is, you
are missing it. You see, if you already have as much and maybe more,
of the omniscient wisdom than I do, then you don't need me talking,
and you are merely monitoring and sweating bullets on what I may
decide to do or say. This leaves me to ponder now, just what is going
on, and just how do I wish to respond from this point on, in this
game, inside the dollhouse that is inside the dollhouse. First off,
there is the dollhouse, and then comes cyberspace which in many ways,
talk about symbolic crap, I mean a hit tune by Scylla says it all, so
I can shut up right now. There was a boy in the late sixties who when
someone would call him names would take something out of his pocket,
no, not a knife, but words as we all know can be very injurious
weapons, Hillary Duff is on the $$$$$ 100%. Now speaking of Roseann,
yes, let us not play dumb here folks. Of course, using what happened
on 10SC Avenue not once but twice, and the same family at other
locations not in Atlantic City, doing this on half a dozen other
occasions to me as well, well, yes, so why couldn't she have bitten
me in 1983? Who can ever really know these things, all the way from
breath echos to Copyright Examiners, or even fishing jetty's that are
out of regular time as well, Ouch, silver-hands Jeff. No one can ever
know a dam thing for sure, and we all know that, and I believe
humanity chose to stop letting that bother them any more, and they
morphed into this wild nutty New Weird Odor to keep a different
agenda in the front of their consciousness, almost to beat things
like the old time worries at their own game. Most people don't even
give death much thought any more, they live, and one day, they die,
and don't care at all. Now that is fine if you are me and really know
what is real, but how others can be comfortable doing that, well,
that eludes me beyond anything I can ever even hope to type about it.
OK
there ADS, I will tell you a little bit more about my personal
situation that will directly go into responding to your exact
question that you asked me on a comment at the Wordpress site back
last year sometime, or maybe even before that year, I am no expert on
these computers, not 1% of 1% of 1%. I've had more time since
learning of your comment to me, to reflect on your exact query, and
actually have some new information that I promise, should you still
be out here, I'll tell you. I do not have it in front of me, it is in
a pile of papers that pertain to my blogs, everything form passwords
to e-mail addresses to how to perform some kind of task on a website
or in my own computer, and what have you. I will find it, and soon, I
promise you. I actually realized that I'd given by accident, a little
false information to you, and that there was really one situation
where the Astral World appeared indeed to be effected by what we do
here as opposed to the normal lawtronic reverse that simply put means
it is written in cosmic stone that it never works in that mode, but
even so, it is part of an elaborate system of illusions. First off,
even without that being said, ILLUSION is everything, and there is
nothing one bit special about an illusionist/magician, no matter how
great they and their tricks are. What makes them them and us us, is
also part of a powerful illusion. Why is your doctor a doctor? Why is
your stock broker a stock broker? Sounds silly like I'm trying to
prove I'm a moron, huh, well I'm not folks, YO. The simple truth is
that behind the great curtains of everything, is not a loud mouth
wizard but rather a complicated numeration system endlessly trying to
solve an equation. The entire Sixth dimension is a realm that spits
tiny pieces of itself out into lower dimensionality, creating
universes and eventually in some of them, carbon thinking beings or
reflections of themselves on the sixth dimension. How can anyone know
what I have spoken for 7.3 years, NOT see that it is all true and
real, right down to who the All Mighty Goddess is in present
incarnation? Well, traffic is directed towards as well as against all
websites and blogs, in powerful ways that only the top one or two
percent or less of the Microsoft employees themselves, really have a
true clue about. I know what is going on, and I know there is no
stopping it. I am merely doing my 18 and out, and then as JOJO, the
fun begins. If I was wrong, the world would be buzzing and blazing in
24 hours, just from this post alone, going up to blogger tonight;
only I'm not wrong, am I, AHA AHA AHA? Of course not, and PP, you are
as clueless as a bat reading the big-E on the eye chart. Dinner is
ready, let the universes wink out for a vigintillionth of a
microsecond. Folks, whether or not Roseann Delaney got me on that
night in that Atco home in 1983, matters goose eggs David Bacon
0-zip, vocoder machines and ears don't lie, huh Stephanie? But as
for the sixth dimension, they are like the brains down here in a
microcosm, each one of our entire universes is one cell in this huge
brain. Even the early eighties weird theories began to see that, BUT,
that is where they let the child turn the light-switch off and go
downstairs to dinner, quietly, maybe. All puns and jokes aside,
stopping it where you did is tantamount to not even starting it at
all. You left out the power of the circle, the string is fine and
well, but all of it has to bend around and connect again, endlessly.
What the fuck else can it ever hope to do? Those strings when long
enough will do the equivalent of becoming heavy and bend down and
around, only to all reconnect. But effecting uplines, or a light
starry world (the spirit world), well, look at what the bios all say
of how interested many within this star family, were in all of this,
as they couldn't make that disappear, and THAT fits biggest of all,
into my story, PERSONALLY, of course, great French models all
notwithstanding, or Pathmark Stores, this can be the next thing to
poof away, not that I said what I said to ADS. You see why I had to
write that fucking tune in 1983, US © Office, called, “Uncles On
Bending knees”????????? Just how does one fight All Mighty Goddess
ISIS, I mean the symbolism says it all, IT IS WHAT IT IS, ISIS,
WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING
MORIANITY PART 5,
AND
HAVE NOW READ
THIS
CHAPTER NUMBER XXXVII. BYE-BYE, E/T.
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING
MORIANITY PART 5,
SO
PLEASE ENJOY THIS CHAPTER NUMBER XXXVI
NOW.
NOW
THIS PARTICULAR BLOG WILL BEGIN RIGHT HERE:
2:10
PM-EDST, 5 APRIL, 2013, FRIDAY MID-AFTERNOON, YO.
OK
Inspector Louigee Kent Henderson Hollywood, here is the fucked up
shituation, kind sir, and all kind prosecutors and police detectives,
working my case, or not, since 5 December in 1989, not to get
Florence and Marcia too excited hopefully,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA .
First,
I am awakened every day now to nasty ass fucking loud piercing FIRE
ALARMS, and have to run to get my ear plugs in, and still duck my
head under a pile of pillows. Then after this attack again this
morning around stock market opening mother fucking civil rights
violating bell time, AKA around half past nine, came loud long
lasting hall shouting by my sicko nabes. This is two straight days,
Pam Bondi, mahm, that the neighborhood has assaulted me while
attempting to get my rest. Let me ever dare to make anywhere near
that kind of noise, and they would take me to a janitor room and
shoot me dead, mahm.
WHEN
THEY HAVE YOU DIRT POOR AND DOWN AND OUT, IT IS VERY HARD TO RUN AWAY
AND START ALL OVER, OTHERWISE I WOULD HAVE DONE SO LONG AGO, AS THE
HAND WRITING WAS CLEARLY ON THE WALL FOR MY DOOM.
HALF
PAST FUCKING EIGHT IN THE EVENING, TUESDAY, WORST DAY OF THE CENTURY,
MARCH 5, 2013, LEAVE IT ALWAYS TO MOTHER FUCKING LOUSY ROTTEN MARCH!
Folks,
I cannot stop or prevent this runaway
fucking DOW JONES freight train, nor can I go running
away every time it suits me to do so, as in the case on 12 December
in OHM-9 when if I had not escaped the KING, I would most likely not
lived to see another DAWN, back at that fucking FBI owned Hammonton
Blueberry town home, not Chatsworth to the north, deeper into the
mother fucking Jersey Pine Barrens. I must remain and fight, and will
send e-mails and DYING UTTERANCES to many state and local authorities
later on as the night and week ticks fucking onward. Scylla said in
late June of 2008, that I would be punished for my non obedience, and
have been quite devastatingly. Anyone that has any problems with
believing that, is a dam fool, and so who cares what they may think
or believe, hell, you can go tell me you're a fucking monkey, it
doesn't make you one; nor will it ever hope to alter the actual
truth. She tells me how disappointed in me she is, over and over,
well, you know my Morians, let me express a little something here.
She pulled all of this shit for thousands of years, maybe longer, and
you all barely can grasp the nineteen sixties and what's been done to
me by this all powerful controlling and RULING entity, let alone the
much longer span of interactions in hyperspace with her and me, so
why even go on there, except to say that I too am extremely
disappointed with the great ISIS-SCYLLA? What, are you jealous
because Diana came to me all night long, and was with me,
communicated with me, flashed lovely colors for me; and so you had to
totally ruin my day? Actually folks, go to your local fucking
minister, now, or wait for Wednesday, or Sunday; and tell him or her
about my blogs; and then ask if 'Jehovah' is not an extremely
jealous GOD, and if the Holy Bible does not say this as
plain as fucking ass 'day', other 'PP', so don't fucking stone me to
death, you religious extremists. I am merely a messenger who is
telling what's fucking going on in my dam life, and what I read as
plain as the stench of dogshit, right in the Holy Words of the KJV
Christian Bible. Then ask your buddy's buddy until one of them is a
psychiatrist, or maybe you even see one, that's none of my fucking
business; but ask if they can read through this Old Testament Bible,
and not diagnose Jehovah with about half a dozen sike features, and
if really carefully studied and examined despite her beyond mind
blowing intelligence without limit, to us human globs of maggots in
stasis, until our hearts all quit their rhythmic beating; that this
entity is a juvenile, a very far advanced one; but it is indeed as
I've told you all right along, a sixteen year old girl. I can only
tell my blogs what has happened in my life. This is my duty to
cosmos, and goes way beyond just me being super fucking pissed off at
the cock sucking world right about now, YO. That, I'll swear to a
million ISIS Goddesses, even if they all 'pick me', and I lose a
quintillion toes before this is all over. So what is this fucking
shit with automobile mechanics, YO??? Has anyone ever got an idea
about that, and wants to share, YO? I mean I have my own ideas, but
none of you really seem to believe, or agree with them; so my
question now becomes, then why not share yours with the poor little
fucking chemtard of the sike-ward, huh DEEZY SLIM, YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO??????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You
know, folks are basically cowardly. Either because what's going on
around me, and is against me, is huge in this world, or huge in the
outer world, and I know it is one and the same; but who gives a fuck
what I claim to know? Still, it is as though I am not afraid to come
out and tell this entire thing for 7 plus years now on these blogs,
and yet anyone who reads them, is sort of walking on editorial
eggshells about it all. Hay, I stand up to bullies, and I do not care
if they own the land, or claim to rule the empire. This family has
knocked out my entire life, and I AM good and pissed off about it
peeps, and am not going to be all that fucking shy about it, BRO!
Sorry, but I just am not gonna' be, YO. That's that, Mister Esolph,
and this ain't some fable.
Still,
very shortly, all of my shit will be down off of the internet. It is
only making shit fucking far worse for me, and I can see this quite
plain and clear as hell. It has been seven years and two months now,
so either I AM the densest
living person on this globe of pig crap, or it is time
to for me to grow up and see that this internet shit is certainly a
far cry from being my answer to anything, except a hell of a lot more
grief and pain and tears and hell, cubed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just
from saying this, the computer did a major fuck up almost as though
to agree with me TO GET FUCKING RID OF IT. I will be getting rid of
my TV, my internet and cable, and just keep my old landline
telephone, and save for my bankruptcy; then get the fuck out and away
from this hellish evil nation.
I
asked why this day was so fucking horrible, and my GAGA CAT said
'Meow-meow, PCN-770'. But here is the real kicker folks. On the very
worst botbar day of the year, and maybe in fucking many fucking
years; I decided to see how many more units I could lose in my
systems roulette, after being clocked out of 48.5 units over the
weekend, and instead; I made not only this amount back, but 15 more
to boot, so I have no fucking cunt lapping answers for any of you,
and only All mighty SARAH-STACEY KRASSLE can know why she plays with
me as she does, her fave doll I suppose, and YO, if you know her, and
you were to ask her; do you really honestly think, you assholes; that
she is going to come out and admit to any of this? Will you fucking
give me a god dam break ladies and cock sucking gentlemen, please,
thank you so
much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now I need to do a CAP & Paste in reverse, as the machine earlier
fucked up royal, and erased out an entire week of my blogs from the
office 3.1 system, so I need to cap it back from my blogger page. The
more I mess with this All mighty Jehovah character, the more She is
going to fuck with me, and I knew this in 2008 when all of this got
started, but at least one positive resulted from it all. No longer am
I totally haunted by either June 4, 1983 or right about on that same
date somewhere give or take a day or two, three years back in 1980.
The song ''Love is for Carpenters'', now makes total sense as to why
this all happened to me; and so does my choking condition; and I
guess I was meant to cross
over a lot more than just Academy Road, and when I
seemed imperious to death, things went as many bible believers know
very well, beyond
death, and what does your bible say is beyond fucking
death, but oh shit, you know it only too fucking well ladies and
gentlemen, it is fucking HELL!
I
DEMAND MY FUCKING PROPS.
STILL
FOLKS, AND MY LOVELY GIANT GINA, PLEASE REMEMBER FOLKS THAT I DID
INDEED,
TELL
YOU
THAT ALL OF THIS WOULD HAPPEN ON THE STOCK MARKET, JUST REREAD MY
BLOGS, AND GEE FOLKS, THE PROPHET OF NOTHING IS 100% RIGHT, DEMANDS
HIS FUCKING PROPS; AND KNEW ALL THIS WAS MY FUCKING DOOMED DESTINY
ALL ALONG, LOVELY ATTORNEY GENERAL. I HOPE YOU'LL TRY AND SAVE MY
LIFE. I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE TRIED TO FUCKING RUN AWAY FROM THIS EVIL
NATION A LONG TIME AGO, NOW IT'S TOO FUCKING LATE, HUH ISIS??????????
WELL YOU WERE A REAL PROPHET TOO, AND A LOT PRETTIER THAN I WILL EVER
HOPE TO BE, WOW!
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