LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING
MORIANITY PART 5,
SO
PLEASE ENJOY THIS CHAPTER NUMBER NOW.
11:13
PM-EDST, 1 APRIL, 2013, MONDAY NASTY ASS NITE
555555555555555555555
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:
Folks,
this has been another lousy fucking day, and the two culprits are sky
persecution, and neighbor harassment, the two most mother fucking
common assaults done to me on a powerfully regular ass basis, by who
else other than of course, the one and fucking only,
WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, YO! LIKE
DUHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
was not gonna' get into it, and the smarty pants peeps know what the
IT is, and yes Dawn was a lot smarter all the time than she ever let
on one iota with me while kidnapped by her and her peeps in
Hammonton, New Jersey, right under the nose of all of the state and
local township authorities, protecting foreigners more than they
protect, as 6th Cuzz Trump would put it so well, and ''one
of their own fucking countrymen'', quote end of
fucking cunt lapping quote, YO folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Of course
I'm speaking of her favorite saying and expression that for all I
know she herself could have invented, in or out of the Seacaucus, New
Jersey Rehab Clinic of magic fragrances and wild family conspiracies
to evade the very legal system itself, and I will get all into this
since these people won't ever fucking stop hurting me, YO. Some have
some more bacon slices, wash your hands carefully, and after enjoying
a little Youtube Deezy Slim Rap, stay here and focused, as things
will only heat up from this fucking cock sucking point on ladies and
gentlemen, yes oh mighty Misses Dish Delicious Showoff
Badgirlontheporch Motherblush, IT IS WHAT IT IS, AND BUILT RIGHT INTO
THAT MAGIC OF 5 WORDS, is the 40% of it, “ISIS”! Only 60% of this
magical phrase are the other three words of “IT WHAT IT”. MAJOR
AND MIND NUMBING CHILLS, should now be going from your spine; all the
way out your asshole; with unlimited, and unfathomable Donna Adrian
Gaines White-Boy goosebumps. Belt it out, girl!
But
for now folks, let me stay on point. Yes, nasty highway houses,
chocking, belts, and beltways, doctors who call a grown man's mother
instead of the man himself, should I go on, lovely Anita Van Buren,
or is this Shangrala ever going to hear the dinging of the boxer bout
bell??????? WHAAAAAA!
All
fucking day, the door slammer is back here. This fucking jerk off
comes and goes. Whatever is going on, they are all in a click
together, and made the computer guy at the security desk turn on me,
as I already knew would be the case. This shit has fucking been going
on all around me for going on fucking cunt fifty-nine cunt lapping
years now, it really has no shock value at all any more, but that in
no way alleviates the excruciating agony of knowing you have been
placed in some lab rat cage by a star family, and that there is
nobody to believe you, and nothing ever that you can do, hard as you
may persist and persevere and try forever and fucking cunt ever and
ever and cock licking ever and FOREVER, YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now with
all the shit today, I managed to win at my SYSTEMS-ROULETTE,
tee-hee-hee, Lilly Munster. Eventually, I'll have a nasty-ass loss if
shit does not ease off, but I'll tell you all this fucking much
folks. I intend to cash in on these pussy command attacks, so BRUING
IT FUCKING ON WITH SKY ATTACKS OTAMM, as that is the main shit that
causes those fucking ass holograms to come roaring into my fucking
proximity like an out of control diesel locomotive, YO!!!!!!!!! Just
how does all of this wild shit all connect, many have wondered for
quite a while, beginning with Mister Parenting Expert up in the
fucking hood: Well, whatever I say, you will mock me all smug and
arrogant while munching on bacon and sub suds, but here goes, in a
totally condensed story of course, or you and I would be all fucking
night and into the next day here with all this dam ass shit, YO!
Remember,
VERY VERY CONDENSED, like watered down camp juice, or adding a cup of
bug juice with a gallon of rust water. YUK at the speed of light.
Ani-ha folks, I was minding my own fucking business one day, but
which day? Witch day was this, Electrician Joe? Dyawanna start with
Browning Road in 1980, or go back into time another 5-10-15 years, or
ahead by 10-20-30, your call, we can just choose any old year from
1965 through 2013, your goddess dam
call,
world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Laugh all you want to, YO!
How
about we use the story of old ex jerk off business partner, speaking
of recent wall writings and later cover ups of them, and just write
it in the vein as to how it connects to one lousy branch of this wild
star-family, the dam ass CALLIO mother fuckers? As usual, ditsy ass
hole Mark, AKA ME, puts another one of my wonderful ads in that
wonderful fucking rotten Courier Post Newspaper in Southern Jersey,
and who answers, but good old big dude, PP? The problem is that I was
not trying to do one thing, or for that matter two or three things, I
was just working hard out in the sun all day, and catching no fish.
There is nothing new happening with this, it's older than any
mountain on this messed up screwy planet. LSS, there is a lot more
going on than me placing an ad, and PP answering it, or what I was
hoping to supposedly accomplish, and what he was. The only thing that
really mattered, is the very same thing that matters in any situation
with anyone at all, but nobody believes me, most likely because it is
just too fucking horrible and terrible to accept, so it's flat out
simpler and better to deny it to ourselves, only I cannot, not any
longer, not when I know beyond any doubt that it is true, what I will
not tell to you all, IT'S ALL TRUE, and you won't fucking believe me,
and I already know it, yet still type this to you, do you know why? I
do. It is the same reason I put all those fucking ads in that stupid
fucking paper, and got everything from molested to robbed and my life
terrorized and destroyed by terrorists who are
invisible and are 1,000,000,000,000,000 times more deadly and
dangerous than any human kind of Osama Bin Laden ever could be in a
million fucking years. Yeah folks, the number is a quadrillion, AKA
one times ten to the fifteenth power, AHA AHA AHA Mike McNulty-1071!
The only thing that is going on that has the smallest truth or
substance in energetic reality, is the thing I have called and
labeled in earlier pre-PART-5-Morianity, the IF, or the
INTERACTION-FORCE, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is the
energy inside of the upline child illustration, playing with a room
of make believe dolls or soldiers, depending on if it is a girl or a
boy, and that is no longer all that PC to say, so depending on any
preference the child has, try and see the difficulty in living in
these messed up and mixed up times, you younger whipper snappers out
here, it is really like we were all transported in our sleep to a
distant planet one night, at least, I'll fucking speak for myself, as
there are folks 60-90 that love all this new age bull shot, I see
only the Twinbay glass half empty part of it all, the biblical end
times cannot buy or sell syndrome, especially among the majority of
the older and the so-called ''crazys' population, you know, as
discussed last summer, the tin foil hat stuff, now watch me suddenly
run into another one, and believe me, I will report and record all
that happens to me down the line and the comma and the period, so
bank on that one Toronto trucks, and WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you
for the clock attack, AGAIN, Jane Sleazebag Diseaseweeds
Bitch!!!!!!!!! Let me fucking cunt phlegm rape (compensate), YO, with
some nice fives, since this is now PAGE FUCKING ELEVEN OF ELEVEN, YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555 PLUS 555555555555555 TIMES 555555555555555 and
divided by 5555555555 is equal to who gives a blessed mother Viqueen
Mariloo shit, as I know that I do not, and just need now to stop
fucking typing, and stare at these lovely ass fives,
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555
is a very lovely number, and one can puke uin my mouth for all I dam
care, so let me run out the dam clock here by typing nice and big,
YO. OK my friends and fiends and
L-4, and any and all else, please know this was a real nasty day for
me, and I do apologize for my rants and my piss poor fucking
behavior. Maybe all these dam jet fumes are too concentrated all
around me. You think that dirt bag industry cares if some of us get
sick and are allergic to it, you think that jet travel will stop
because of it? What arya, nuts??????????? Hay laugh at me all you
want to. At least I know that there is no magic shit in the jet
spray, and that the atmosphere has slowly altered since jets came to
be used, and this is why a slow gradual change in the appearance of
their trails, is a new reality, yet always was around. It is all part
of a naturally occurring ice-age-cycle. Still, the enemies can choose
to target their enemies, and cause jet traffic to be way lighter, way
heavier, or just neutral, around any of us in an average of days and
months and years, and THIS is what is going on with THAT, no more,
and no less, would you stand outside, open your mouth, and let your
oil heat delivery man pour that liquid from his truck into your
mouth, as opposed to your fuel heating tank? No you would not, and
this is all I ever said, that planes of all kinds are used to
persecute and harass the enemies of the FORTUNE 500 scum bags, AKA
the WORLD-OWNERS, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you study my Morianity
long enough, many of you who may be on the fence, will know that I am
anything but a crazy person, other than for being driven totally
fucking mad, right Miss Blakedaughters from wonderful AT&T of
1983, WHAAAAA?
Folks,
I will say nighty-nite to you now, &ET!
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