5555555555555555555555555555555555555555
THIS
IS MORIANITY,
PART FIVE. PLEASE
HAVE A VERY
NICE DAY.
CHAPTER
00089, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
**********TUESDAY,
MAY 28, 2013 @ 12:27 AM-EDST**********
Here
is the situation, Inspector Louigee Kent Henderson. Nothing just
happens, all things happen for reasons, and random is merely a
disguised pattern, on a grand cosmic scale. There are math formulas
that are extremely complex that force those in the know, to in fact
realize that the words spoken here are true and accurate. These folks
cannot come out and just say this on TV, or other media sources, and
alter society in a flash. It is way too controlled for that to ever
be permitted to happen. Only certified looney folks such as myself
can say these things, and then when they do, who listens? We are all
looney, remember?
All
of my dam life, I have tried for the very most part, to remain
totally out of trouble. I try to go through every day taking the
least amount of unnecessary risks, and never try to make enemies. I
am not nor have I ever been, that typical bar guy looking for
trouble, you know, a chip on the shoulder syndrome, despite with each
passing year since boyhood, if anyone had a legitimate ass chip, it
would be me. On more than one occasion, I have had the following
words spoken to me by those who get to know me, paraphrased and not
in precise quotations; it is as though you actually are trying to
have the most miserable life in the world, or it is like you are
trying to lose as much as you can in life when we know it is not the
case. My pernt, sir Archibald Queen Bunker and others is simply that
my nightmare is and has been, legitimately been recognized throughout
the years, and by numerous non mentally disabled folks, and yet, this
does not aid me in my situation, or in being believed by anyone with
clout that would count, as only those type of individuals could be in
a potential position, to ever expose the real covert problems
involved; and then hopefully, go on to repair my life, through
repairing these situations/problems/cosmic assaults upon my life,
etcetera and whatever you may wish to label all of this.
Folks,
there are some out here and especially the ones who never bothered to
know the beginning of my blogs, the first nearly two and a half
years, before the HYPERSPACE ALTERATION, that a moronic child with a
dam runny dirty nose could see, if they would merely take off their
GWPOS-BLINDERS for a dam ass second; and just look head on and
straight into this thing; only my luck just ain't that of the
wonderful great IRISH, and 'that's 4 sure', and I ain't driving. Good
believers out there, I was not back in Mullica Township in my mobile
home, looking to be kidnapped by some very wonderful adorable kind
loving people, nor was my desire to lose all of my worldly goods, and
go gallivanting off into a cold wintry snowy night, into the
darkness, and away from what was familiar to me for five and a half
decades. This was done to me, by a mother fucker who will not rest
until he takes over the WHITE HOUSE, and destroys any possible chance
for America to be what it was designed to be, free, a land of
opportunity, a place for basically happy people to live and interact,
with an American dream, and most of you would fail the quiz on
exactly what that is. Many think it means a home, a car, and a job
paying double minimum wage or better. Many have many other ideas. But
only about a quarter of the American population knows exactly what it
officially means, so I will tell those who need to know. The American
dream means that every generation will leave to the next generation,
a better place, a place with a little bit or even a lot, but at least
a little bit MORE, than we had in the current generation while we
lived here. THAT IS THE OFFICIAL AMERICAN DREAM. Every 20th
and 21st century American President, knows this, write to
the White House and ask if I am lying to you, should you not trust
me. Just how long has the American Dream been DEAD some may wonder.
Well, as with all things, it is sort of a general average, so count
out the entitled luxury owner demigod EW crowd, Corporate execs and
other extremely wealthys out there, the '99ers' in case any of the
OCCUPY GROUP still exist, as I
think the movement died some time back, or at least they seemed to
allow themselves to die in the media, and perhaps have all gone
underground. The dead are all underground too, so that tells us
everything without my needing to carry on this great conversation any
further. Now before I totally ruin the day of Mizz Terry
Nonscatterbrain Harborheads, of Egg Harbor City, New Jersey,
USAESMWG; this blog will move around a lot, and maybe some grinding
and gear replacements might be necessary, about 130 days ahead of
schedule if we back things up about half a decade, yes Mike McNulty,
you may; but moving on; this example right here for those who know
what's being discussed, is a wonderful example of my point at present
moment. People in every universe, block out painful memories. How can
the field of psychiatry ever start to grow as exciting as it really
could, unless we add in all of the appropriate necessary additional
real dimensions to reality that Astral-Plane dream down folks, or us,
are interacting in in what you otherwise may think of as
waking-hyperspace. Before moving on, I was given a major CRAMPANA
ATTACK today, to quote the late great Mister David Charles Roth, so I
will have to break off for another shit attack now, and will be back
in 20 minutes or so, good people. Now I'm back at 17 minutes shy of
one in the morning. To you, this time never passed, but to me, I was
in the bathroom crapping out my guts for the third time today. Except
for this, all was quite OK for me on the holiday weekend, other than
for normal horse shit nabe action from time to time off and on, back
on the first two days of the holiday, yelling and doors and typical
stupidity, but nothing real bad or real long lasting. Let's move this
right along.
First
off, I need to tell you that I had quite a wild talk the other night
or as you may look at it, while dreaming; with the great Almighty
Goddess, MIDDIE, and I am more convinced than ever, that this is as
close to human truth as we can ever get in waking brain interaction.
There was a powerful early 20th century discovery that is
known the world over, energy equals mass times the speed of light
squared. The inverse of this equation is way more urgent however, for
humans to concern themselves with, and that would be energy equals
mass divided by the speed of light squared. There is no magic to
squaring, take a square, and see how it has four sides, so if each
side of the square's perimeter is say 4 inches, the old well
established geometric truth is the perimeter or the total length of
the square if it was all taken apart and turned into one straight
line, is P=S4. When a number is next to a letter, it means in basic
simple algebra, we multiply. So four inches on all sides is 4X4 or a
perimeter of 16 inches. It really is just that simple, only mass and
energy is a bit more complex, yet I am going to tell you a simple
truth about it. Nothing is real, NOTHING. NOTHING is WHAT IS REAL.
It works both ways, ladies and gentlemen. In the TRUTH of all things,
the very sentence as I just pluralized it, makes it become
inaccurate. So in the TRUTH, there is VOID, a lack of any dimension,
or another way that I have said it throughout my many blogs, is
''ZERO-DIMENSION''. There is no mass and no energy, there is no space
and there is no time, there is only TRUTH or if you prefer,
EXISTENCE. Taking it to a less philosophical way of putting it, I
then go on to add the initials of EWI, and they stand for Existence
Without Interaction, not to get Mayor Bloomberg too excited, and
don't anyone let him bullshit you and tell you that him and his three
city newspapers, do not know exactly what I am saying here. They
would be lying if they said they don't know, I still have the dam
newspaper, and that's as far as we need to go. Some few things
managed, by providence or whatever; to survive my trip down here, to
freaking Florida, in middle December of 2009. Now the inverse of the
famous Albert Einstein formula is what matters, once things all got
started, and this would be a huge Moby dick sized blog in and of
itself, so let us skip it good people. But once we did become the
original energy that managed to dream out and away from the void
total nothingness, certain things did happen, and that as well would
require a lesson book the size of ten or so of Tolstoy's great
novels. So screw that for right now. Once an Astral-Plane existed,
all of the unique individual people that we think we all are here in
fifth dimensional hyperspace, as you are reading these words right
now, are really existing on this higher reality where atoms vibrate
much faster than they do anywhere in the hyperspace below that
contains virtually limitless 4-D universes, each one designed to
create one LIFE-WORLD, the entire universe is a perfectly structured
engineering marvel, that is necessary, just to create one planet that
can sustain the type of life that we all are, whether anyone out here
wants to hear this powerful truth or not. However, there are more
parallel universes and parallel EARTH worlds, than there are stars in
the sky, and vigintillions times that amount, and yet still more and
more and more. In this hyperspace, are not only all possible worlds
but in all possible times, relative to what we think of right now, as
right now to us. Don't even try breaking your mind into pretzel city
worrying about this, and let me just get back to the inverted great
formula. This would be M=E divided by C SQ. M means MASS, E means
ENERGY, and C means the CONSTANT, and this constant is LIGHT
VELOCITY. This super cool dude figured out that mass and energy are
like Kent and Superman, one and the same thing, except for the fact
that they change clothes, or in the world of physics, they either are
the twin of themselves when multiplying by C-SQ or dividing by C-SQ.
But we are not trying to win the Second World War and make any nuke
bombs, so we are now more concerned with the not so famous flip- side
of the great Brady kiss, and that is that this magical thing called
human consciousness, is somehow quite miraculously, taking the realer
energy world that the Astral-Plane is made of, and dividing the full
reality of it and our awareness as it, by C SQUARED. Now we can get
born into a physical mass or matter-body, and exist and interact in a
world of material tangible objects. This of course is pure illusion,
and when this dream-down off of the Astral-Plane appears to end by a
physical body no longer alive and moving, and able to catch time's
reflection, or light; as in biblical reference thousands of years
back, when referring to the ''quick and the dead''; that is what we
all in our limited minds, perceive as death, or go as far as calling
physical-death. Our mind in various levels of consciousness is
therefore giving us the ability to exist in this dream with a unique
personality and life, in a space-time continuum, where without this,
we could have no interaction. The Astral Energy life is totally
opposite of this. There, you need the interaction first, and then
that interaction is what actually goes on to CREATE the Space and the
Time, in a sort of starry and dreamy way, that conscious mind could
never fully hold or grasp, as it is tuned to this physical realm of
direct opposite reality or a lower truth, if you will, again,
biblically following the great words of wisdom from prophets, who
proclaim that here in this life, we all see through a glass, dimly.
Don't take me at my word, ask your preacher or read it for
yourselves. Now I need to move onto more religion, only it will not
sound at all like what you'll get in a church on a Sunday or at a
Wednesday prayer meeting, I assure you.
I
do not proclaim to have a lot of answers, but I do have life
experiences that do not equal the vast majority. I've come to share
them on a blog for about seven and a half years now, and called this
project MORIANITY, but this is not as new as the start of 2006. It
began late in 1995, in Williamstown, the place where I was suddenly
influenced and drawn to the Almighty Goddess Herself, or 'MIDDIE' if
you will, M-D-E (MOTHER-DAUGHTER-ELECTRON). All truths seem to
reverse on the material world, for reasons that even elude me and
Morianity so far, but I know that this is the truth nonetheless. This
is of course one reason why most folks insist on the MALE dominance
of all things, when without the female, how would any creation go on
past one single generation? Men may despise that concept, but just
prove me wrong on this fact, and I'll eat a hat full of dog shit for
all of you,, at Macy's front window on Christmas Eve, with all the
media coverage the pops can throw at me. I know what I know, and only
what I know, nothing else, and nothing less. I know that I was shown
a powerful truth over the holiday weekend, with two powerful
interactions on two separate nights. I was forced to recall a
repressed memory upon one of these two occasions, and now realize
that when I empowered that Mountain Dew glass bottle on Magnesonic,
and made it become the IO (image-object), of Sarah Krassle, it was
the early summer evening of August 14, 1986. Once it was broken in
the basement on the hard floor, despite it being wrapped in numerous
sheets of paper, and a face drawn on it as well as her name printed
on it, Dave Roth and myself then proceeded to take this destroyed IO
down to Long Beach Island, somewhere a bit south of the Causeway
where you cross over onto the island from the mainland, and the only
bridge ever built to my knowledge; and we went to the beach and it
was around 10-11 at night, and it was warm and calm and dark with
bright stars all around above us, and we dug a deep hole in the sand,
put this IO down into it, Dave and I expectorated onto it and then we
took our feet, and covered up the hole. Instantly, the waves got very
rough out at sea, and the wind began to blow very hard. Clouds
covered the stars within what seemed a minute or two, and an icy cold
chill came from the water and we suddenly were icy cold. We returned
to my home at 1931 Route 70, (Marlton Pike) in Cherry Hill, New
Jersey, USA, Earth, Sol, Milky Way Galaxy, (ESMWG), and got home
shortly before midnight. Before I got home, I began to get a horrible
painful earache out of the blue, and asked Dave if he wanted to go
over to the Garden State Hospital on Route 73, but he was tired and
went back to the house, got into his car and drove home. This was the
end of my life as I knew it forever and forever. The clock struck
midnight, and my ear felt as though Mike Tyson punched it as well as
bit it off. I was suddenly in excruciating pain, and drove myself to
the hospital where I was given some drops for it, and some pain
medication and antibiotics. Around 2 in the morning, I drove home
after stopping at an all night pharmacy nearby. I drove home, and
crashed into bed. I had the most incredible interaction or
dreaming-experience of my entire life, rivaling even the early June
of 1980 one with SSJKK singing the song at the foot of Tennessee
Avenue and the boardwalk's on-ramp, called, “LOVE
IS FOR CARPENTERS”. It was now 6 years and two plus
months later than that, it was the morning of the fifteenth day in
August, in 1986. This was the day that life STOPPED for me, FOREVER,
and was altered for me,
F----O----R----E----V----E---R!!!!!!!
All this time, I had remembered this as happening a few days after my
trip into the Big Apple, with David, the night that he wanted to see
his music group at some downtown nightclub, called, “NEW
SHOES”. Allow the pathetic Babylonian King of New Shoes, to
now tell you some more of this horrific disaster ass nightmare, AKA
KING NEBNOOSHOO at C-SQ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was
remembering it wrong. SSJKK showed me a calendar and pointed with an
edict and a frightening expression on her lovely face, full of anger
and wrath; and she made me come to realize how I had angered her so
much, first at the Medport Diner in the spring time of 1986, by
telling David about her and some of the stuff about the 1969 wild
dream she had given me and the Book of the Beach, and all of it. Then
I went onto try killing her, with Magnesonic. This, she said is not
going to be forgiven until a lot of suffering is done on my part, and
I find a way to make things right. She asked me to remember a
particular sentence that was said to me just 12 days earlier in New
York City, when she came up to my car that night around half past
ten, and I had been relaxing in the passenger seat and David was
inside of the nightclub. Instantly I remembered and it made no sense
in 1986 and I dismissed it and never thought of it again, but she had
spoken a very wild thing that sort of made my blood rush to my face I
am sure, and being dark, I doubt she remembers seeing my face, but we
were talking about how you do not always get second chances in life,
and I had told her about a male nurse named John McDowell who lived
at 2041 Chestnut Street, in Philadelphia in Center City, back in
1963, and he had spoken this to me, and I mentioned that to her
during this somewhat fascinating conversation that lasted all of
about 3 minutes if I am recalling that part of things accurately. Now
do not confuse Bob McDowell, these two dudes were totally different
peeps from two totally different times in my life, the FCC Chairman
McDowell, I was about three and a half years older than he was, while
the male nurse John from Philly, was already a grown man, back when I
was around nine years old. His mom also nursed at the same hospital,
and was our neighbor, and he was visiting his mom, and my mom had
become quite friendly with her. Still, SSJKK said to me in her new
form in 1986, something to the extent of how right this guy was, and
how I would probably come to realize it more and more with passing
time. Why this made chills go up and down my freaking spine when I
sat next to my own daughter in the car that night and did not know
she was my kid, I do not know, but I do know, that this is an awesome
reconstructed memory. Now this is page eleven of eleven, so let me
please try and compensate with my lovely FIVES, good folks.
5555555555555555555 plus 55555555555 times 5555555 and divided by
55555555555555555, is equal to who cares? Just let me stare at these
fives, YO!
Folks,
is a freaking ***W---O---W***
appropriate here?
There
is a lot more to tell, and I will just tell a very tiny ass bit of
it, my wonderful viewers and believers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She had
taken me into the days where I work as Labber Zeejins in the late
twenty-two hundreds. This is where she showed me this with a very
strange pointer that was about 50 inches long or more. I never saw so
much anger on her face, it scared me to death, and I admit, I thought
my next spot was the Huntington Bay Weeds, with boy-taker Volleyball
Player, nameless friend. I know what she can do, I HAVE SEEN, and
I'll say no more, for total fear of life and limb. Still, great SARAH
KRASSLE, you know I AM THAT-BOY, and you know no matter
what, and how all of this might play out, IWALU, and yes, I need your
codes to show, and I told the Copyright Office this, and I know they
know all about us today, and I know you know it as well, oh
GREAT 1. Queen of Babylon OH GREAT ISIS, I AM so sorry for
all I have said and done, and will be a very very GOOD BOY, I promise
you, oh great TEEN QUEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I SURRENDER, I WILL OBEY, I
WILL NOT BE A SHELLFISH, Sharkey says, 'UNCLE' at a hundred thousand
bells of SPL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You have proven to me a
billion times over, great one, JUST WHO RULES THIS EMPIRE, please
accept my eternal apology, MC!
When
I was being shown these things by Almighty
ISIS, L-4; I was in the very same room that I was in when
Professor Gawky Gaukauk was conducting that class at the Teck Bay
Mystery School, only the room had been recreated. I was not on the
Astral-Plane. I was merely in a parallel reality, or what you would
call, in a very vivid dreaming experience. After I had been shown and
forced to recall these things, I walked out alone, and in the
hallway, was the laser retraced Donna Summer, not Jason Forrest of
WFMU RADIO, but the dynamite darling of disco herself. All my old
blogs talk about how I told the story, the true accurate story of
what had happened to me on Walker and Water Streets in southeast
Philly in 1988 while employed by Dorothea Dario, the pig who cheated
her employees out of their rightful hours and pay and was reopening
new companies as fast as the state of New Jersey was closing her
down, and who belongs in Federal freaking prison. She beat me up when
I was fifteen, and the my bicycle into the dam river. She does not
think I remember her, but I do, on that early icy snowy January 1970
day at the Newton Creek near the recently built Burger King on the
White horse Pike, in West Collingswood, just down the road from where
Michael Landon AKA Ugie Googie Horowitz, went to the high school
there on West Collings Avenue, before he played little Joe on
Bonanza, and went on from there to star in many television roles.
Aniwho, we need not get off into a dozen stupid ass tangents for now,
believers. This is what got me onto SOCIAL
SECURITY DISABILITY the very first time that I applied,
when I told them the true story about World Labs up in the future,
and how I had retraced 600 people from this time period, up there.
This was in the days of my joining the Haddonwood Swimming club, in
1994. I joined on June 27, and within a few months, I was on
disability. I still am. Folks say I am crazy, maybe I am. I know the
truth, some others know it too. Then you have the Bluebook Warren
Club of Disinformation, and the other MDE, with an EA in-between,
sort of a magic symbol if you ask me, as in Fort MEADE, you get
Mother-Daughter-Electron, and you also get Einstein Albert out of
these initials. Then there was 2008. Say
what?
Here
is the story of last week, done a little bit more the way that would
be pleasing to the great Almighty literary giant of Egg Harbor in New
Jersey, Terry; please don't kiss me. Thank you. It was six days ago
on Monday that I drove up to the Harvest. I wanted to tell the
Manager who once was and said I was his pal, only he changed big time
when becoming manager of the place, and this is why I detest power
and capitalism and all of this shit. It turns everybody totally ugly
and forgetful. The main thing that they tend to forget is that they
all will pass the very same people who they were mean to once they
became great hot shots, when it is their time and turn, to slide back
down the ladder rungs of success, back into the great cosmic
equalization. This does not mean I think powerful folks should be
fools and give one thin dime to those begging for money. The
wealthiest person on Earth would go broke in a year, just handing out
fifty measly dollars to every not real well off person; man, woman,
and child; just in the United States alone, and forget the world.
What I do say is there is a horrible change that takes place in
people, normally it is the smaller of the bigger people, such as
JASPER, up there at the shit hole I used to work at through a stipend
program, on E Street, in Washington, DC-13-600; that's actuality
operated out of the Port Saint Lucie, Florida Office, on Route 1.
LSS, I went up there back on Monday to tell him how Mikey had, or I
thought at that time, had done me wrong by moving away and just
dropping me as a friend after we had become very good friends,
helping each other out in small ways when necessary, and enjoying
talks on a more intellectual and stimulating level, than either of us
can do by randomly conversing with just any helter skelter random
person we may meet at the dam grocery store. I was wrong, and have
since apologized for my inaccurate thinking, and accusations, and
admit, I was a real nasty ass prick, and have learned that I will
never ever engage in that type of petty conduct again. Hell if my own
dam daughter can throw me to the wolves; then I shouldn't let anyone
else bother me, even if that had indeed been the case, which it was
not. He merely had become very preoccupied with major personal life
problems for a month, after losing his job, and needing to move.
Still, he managed to do a lot better than when I have a major crises,
which happens very frequently throughout my miserable rotten life.
His brother merely moved Mikey over to the next beach-house that he
still owns, and he has another downstairs crib in there, merely
moving about 25 yards tops, out one door, and into another one. With
me, and not having anyone who cares a lick luck about me, Barbara
Linglong Fonda; Ida been in some real serious ass trouble under a
similar circumstance, bang on wood at '100' DB, not '199', those dam
'IO' keys '999' '000', they all are next to each other on the
keyboard, 'UI', etcetera. Lately and especially this current lovely
month of MAY, I definitely make the THIRTEENTH ANGRY MAN, right
there, Mizz Jane Dirtweeds Sleazedisease??????????? I also told
Jasper I would gladly pay him cash money, 100 dollars, to help me do
a YOUTUBE PAGE. He at most is making a dozen bucks an hour, 15 total
tops, and is not a rich man, with all his ego and demigod power up
there. That is not a bad deal, and I would have paid him more for a
really good one, along with also my own web page; such as the one
that Eddie designed and posted on the net for me, back in OHM-7
somewhere. But he took my number and trashed it, as he always used to
do when I worked there. But he did call Mikey and fink on me about
what I had been nice enough to tell him. This only proves one thing,
and that is that revenge or payback is never the correct action to
take, especially when you are down and out all the way, and with no
one anywhere in the mother fucking entire world who gives a shit if
you should fucking live or fucking die, and that is my current
situation, down in this so-called paradise hellhole misery, that lots
of northern peeps, refer to, and call,
F---L---O---R---I---D---A!!!!!!
Some demonic supernatural or extraterrestrial event just occurred
while I finished typing in the last sentence. I will not bother
telling about it, as most if none would even believe it, but it
happened on the dot of 5:05 PM, coming out of nowhere, totally
invisible, and was along the lines of what David Roth and myself
witnessed so often in the years between 1986 and 1999 for the most
part, and especially after we made contact directly with both SSJKK,
and then a few years after that, in a frenzy of fear to save our
lives from some invisible assaulting power all around us that just
popped up; the Camden County Prosecutor's Office, in Camden City, New
Jersey, USA-ES-MWG, on 12/05/1989. Hello to you too, School Play
Participation Insistence, (SPPI) almost SIPRI, speaking of 'OHM'-7 a
while back, and 1969 a bit further back, right Mister Ciprionni? If a
'WOW' was ever needed within a grouping
of text words, this would be the quintessential time, laugh if you
wish now, Mike McNulty! It is time, BC, to move this along now, and
go about ten minutes after the moment that I walked out the Harvest
place doors, and headed to the local area grocery store, the Publix;
at the large mini-mall, at Virginia Avenue, and Route number 1. This
is where some WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE
power and technology, for reasons beyond my most stretched
imagination; had me suddenly see, no, not a Walmart, that is a few
miles to the west down Virginia which forks as it goes and becomes
OKAY-2-CHOKE-ME Boulevard, becoming one
of the on and off ramps, for the great interstate we all know and
love, Drug Runners Alley and AKA 'I-95'. Walmart is a half mile
before the highway, and is to the east of it. This is however the
mini-mall parking area where I was convinced I had seen Mikey, only
it was a major doppelganger, totally him, only with his hair
different and bright yellow, and dressed like a wealthy man, or as my
great LI Sound Yachtsman late cousin, might put it, “VERY
COMFORTABLE”. LSS folks, it was not him, but right at that very
time that 'some force or power' put this entity right in my direct
path; Mikey was calling me, and leaving me a message on my voicemail
system. He never came out and said it, but I know that Jasper called
him, and told him that I said something not that pleasant to him,
about Mikey; and I did. I had told how he used to accuse Jasper of a
$10,000 theft that took place some time back. But I have come to
learn that this is why I need to always
remain totally fucking out of things, as the only person
that EVER MOTHER FUCKING GETS INTO TROUBLE, as this must be
programmed into the LAWN MOWER MAN MATRIX OF THIS WILD GAME AND
SYSTEM; is the dude I see, when I am shaving in the dam ass morning;
and ONLY THAT POOR FUCKED UP DUDE, no one else. Everyone else is
PROGRAMMED TO DO EVIL AND SKATE ON IT, while I take the force fed
shit, down the throat, EVERY MOTHER FUCKING ROTTEN ASS TIME, YO YO YO
YO YO!!!!! But folks, there are a billion-trillion other subtle
things, that are all WHY
this stuff is happening exactly as it is, to me, and
around me; and remains a total never ending constant for me and
against me; not for a year, not for 5 years, not 10, not 20; but
since the fucking cunt lapping day my mom dropped me on my rotten
worthless head, while we lived at her mom's home, in West Philly,
when I was one or two, and she was carrying me across 50th
Street, to a doctor appointment, from the house at 440 South 50th
Street; and no sooner were out the dam door, when she tripped on
something, and fell on the street; and I fell down hard, and remember
it horrifically to this very mother fucking second. Real funny, MC,
real funny! Speaking of lovely persons, Happy BD, Sharon, and I doubt
you are related to my kid's friend, although, they all got away with
my situation because no one would ever suspect, huh Paul Pedersen,
old buddy? I'll bet I am the whitest looking nigger you ever saw in
your life, huh dog? Well, even I am not aloud to ride up into the
hood and sing along to many of BOO and his pal's lyrics, if I wish to
remain healthy up there late at night. Still, why did he not call my
daughter when he was up at County Jail in early autumn in twenty-ten?
Why call me? Jimmy, I still have the same question for you in late
May of 2013 that I had back in late 1984, bub, YYYYYYYYY, why Jimmy
Y, Y did you tell me these things; and also, JUST HOW DID YOU
POSSIBLY FUCKING KNOW THAT THIS WAS ALL ABOUT MY FAMILY, WAY BACK IN
1974; and did you work on Project
Jeanie-Dreams with my dad, at Majestic TS Level, in Fort
Meade, or Fort MDE,
'mother-daughter-electron', and yes, then there is the H-2 stuff I
learned the other night, about the cult that started in when else,
but you all got it right 1984?
This
has to have a freaking W-O-W!
Now,
I am not going to touch a million potential subjects on this blog,
and basically, the second one hundred chapters, have all been
reserved in a sort of semi-ordered structure by me, for really
getting way more specific, about what the first 100 chapters in this
M-5, just starts to get into; so be prepared to move forward with me,
or else, hit that NEXT-BLOG
BUTTON very soon, as unless you want to get real down
and dirty filthy, into the trenches of warfare, and true horror; that
poor old Walter could not handle, and so he booked out and off of the
battlefield, and later made it up to the world, by becoming the
greatest pleasure provider, to kids and all kids at heart of any age;
but let me just say, that when this mud is all completely and totally
explored; we will all get dirtied up, and I may be sued or killed,
but hey; I can take the fucking heat, L-4 and BELIEVERS; can U?
SLAM
BANG BONG BOOM ZAM, my thug neighbors are really paying homage to
KALI's GANG, huh, very informative, H-2? It's half past fucking
midnight, they don't care, just sell your drugs and have your
parties, and decent people be damned. I will tell you world, I
thought Jersey was fucked up, this Florida game down here is even
more rotten and corrupt, but in its own way, completely unlike the
northeastern areas of my earlier life. In some ways, the stuff is not
any different, as it is all part of the shit that is surrounding me,
that the new age folks and ancient-astronaut theorist folks call star
visitors/travelers/aliens/ET aliens/ etcetera; and the church and
religious faith folks call forces of darkness, demonic or satanic,
the enemy, the fall of mankind through sin and the Adam and Eve
stuff, and along that line. One thing that remains constant with me,
and that all connects up with the same truth, that different folks
merely 'believe differently in'; is the WHAT'S
MY EXCUSE
deal, that is discussed in both the new Morianity of the internet
days in this century, as well as on cassette tape back when it began
in 1995 from my apartment in Williamstown, Giant-Officer Syndrome of
Missourians, in New Jersey. This is not something invented by Tom
Cruise and his Top-Gun movie around the Prophet of Nothing days.
Hollywood stole it from me after I had originally copyrighted my
Epitome of Harassment project in the late eighties, from my residence
in Moorestown,
New Jersey,
on Central Avenue. I kind of wonder if a little Magnetic
Sound Machine
Irony is not in and through this, as a result of what I'll now be
telling you, good believers, and others. You see, back in Mullica
Township, New Jersey at the Plageman Trailer Home Park (Mullica
Mobile Manor) as it was called when I was living there and still may
be; I told the landlady how the boob neighbor next to me, Richie,
blared his TV set at all kinds of hours. Nothing was done about it
when I was the only one complaining. But when the neighbor both on
his other side, as well as the ones across from the driveway to his
trailer, also complained to her, then and only then, was it stopped,
and he was told to cut it out or move out. Same thing here in Fort
Pierce, Florida and at this PHA building. The subwoofer box was
complained about by numerous nabes, not everyone here is a druggie
thuggy, KALI, CALLIO AT&T-TEN. But when it is just the banging
doon that is right across the hallway from me and only me, I'm stuck
with it. Sure, I called the police months ago to complain about their
noise, but nothing was done, they did not answer their door, and they
merely laid low for a week or so and then resumed normal uncouth
behavior patterns. Is this supposed to come as some big shock to me,
folks? Hopefully not, as it did not. After decades of hell and shit,
I pretty much am onto exactly how most of the mechanics of my misery,
really operate and work, covertly behind all of the dam fucking
OZ-CURTAINS, Glinda and Dorothy. Not only don't I surrender, Mizz
Bondi, Florida State Attorney General, but as long as breath and life
is in this body; I will shout out and tell a whole lot more stuff. We
have not covered 5 percent of my story, and anyone thinking we have
is a fool. Morianity could stop right now or even in 2010, and enough
would have been told, so as to know that my tale of woe, is known
publicly; and adding 100 more years to it, really will not make that
much difference. Still, I will go on. Originally, I was planning to
wrap it up completely by Memorial Day, and folks, I HAVE CHANGED MY
MIND. My only weapon of fucking defense, is the power of the pen, and
the typewriter, and now so it seems; the computer, and this blogging
shit. So on we will go, most likely until the mother fucking day that
I die. As long as they can have an excuse, this will never stop. Can
they always have an excuse? Well, look at Washington, DC, and if you
really need to, then visit the dam city and come to learn a bit about
it. Then you tell me if they'll always be able to fall back on an
EXCUSE! This is what was told on the original EPITOME
OF HARASSMENT TAPES,
copyrighted late in the nineteen-eighties, and please see it at the
end of the blog, despite my misspelling the title, as I am not a good
speller, and I fucked it up, and had no Microsoft Spellchecker back
in those days. Yes, H-2, very very very informative, back on Thursday
night. I enjoyed viewing your network the entire evening, and learned
a lot of fascinating stuff. One thing nobody can teach me, and that
is that this problem with whatever it is that is REALLY out there
wherever somewhere, and myself; is NOT GOING TO EVER STOP, OR GO
AWAY; and the first world famous wormhole is not the triangulated
McGuire-owned one, in Atlantic City; but is a period in time,
separating two tunes. I need not be cute, or smart-ass, to quote
Mashell, or Dawn-Marie. We all know what is getting said, them, as
well as Toni Beej. Between you and me world, the day he popped his
head into the door of the studio where Ryan and I were, and made his
statement just more than a year ago, things, bad as they were for me
then, GOT WORSE, A LOT WORSE, you know, Gary sir of the Trekkers,
(-77777777777777). I have some major stuff all planned out to tell
you folks, but right now is not the proper time. Billy Harner taught
me the power and importance of timing, and nobody ever seemed to need
to teach that to many others, as they sort of; well they don't all
inherit it, and that's for sure; but they do get it through street
osmosis, or whatever Richard Karpf and his peeps might feel comfy
cozy with; especially when playing poker, and with any hands from any
reality; huh Josephine? I am so very disappointed in you, Jehovah
Krassle, my endless love. I always knew I was right though, and I
feel 9 feet tall, that everyone back in time who laughed at me, has
to eat their words, and secretly realize that I was decades ahead of
all of them. They can lie to themselves from here to Harold Camping's
next bullshit predicted doomsday, and beyond. The last laugh of the
McNulty Club belongs to myself and perhaps, Mister Icabod Crane,
right © Office???
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Welcome
to hell. I have been here since August fifteen back in 1986. If you
are reading this, then you are merely visiting HELL. Still, one
welcomes his guests unless he is extremely vulgar, rude, impolite,
and down right ignorant and revolting.
Every
day, it is back to horrible fire alarms that wake you up at 2 or 5 or
some other early time in the morning. There was one every day for
days, and today was no exception. The filth bag neighbors across from
me are on a non-stop slamming doors mode, it went on until 2:35 this
morning, and management will not do anything, so when I am out later,
I will, as I must, and even though it will do no good, send off two
letters, one is to my local congressman and one is to the Fort Pierce
Public Housing, the same address as is on my rent envelopes.
I
am making plans to escape for Mexico, and all the peeps who may try
and stop me, you all just go right ahead, as I am getting out of your
mother fucking evil empire. I may not be able to run away from what
all of you peeps call, GOD, but even she cannot stop me from running.
Running away buys me a few months before shit catches up again to me,
and starts all over. I need these lousy mother fucking few months. It
beats going totally out of my cunt eating mind at the speed of light
squared.
This
evil empire will end up destructing from within, you'll-C.
I
am now at 43% MPB, and my life will be over fucking shortly. I tried
to do something in 1986 that went real wrong, and I will be dead
soon, as a result of a very unforgiving goddess, despite bible lies
and a lot more, really, put more accurately; extreme cleverness. No
one ever needs to lie if clever enough, it is still a practice of
deception, in my books, only nobody gives a fucking Potters shit
about my magical, or non-magical book, so it appears, James Stuart,
old NON HIGH
SCHOOL buddy, old pal, from the cement business and
buildings and loans. The last eight days has contained 6 SUPER
FUCKING BOTBARS NOW, and this siege may very well be the new-times
repeat of AUGUST 15, 1986, who can ever breath echo know for sure, on
or off of all SWEPT AWAY PLACES, RIGHT LEGALLY BORN, NON GAGA DIANE
ROSS, IN ANY WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
WILL OUTLINE THE EVENTS OF THIS DAY FOR ANYONE WHO JUST MIGHT GIVE A
TINY FUCKING SHIT, AND FOR THOSE WHO DON'T. I tried to do a person a
favor who used to call me his buddy some time back, and he put a
knife into me as soon as I waltzed out the fucking door. What I
suffer through is so unbelievable, and beyond anyone's possible maxed
out staggered imagination; there just are no words, and this is why
Christianity, discusses a spiritual groaning language, when there are
simply no words. You see folks, I may fucking cunt curse a lot, and
you would do much worse if you went through ten days of my fucking
hell, let me assure you; but I could witness in every cunt chewing
house of worship on Planet Earth, that indeed, this
GOD and this DEVIL thing, is all true and real, and what I
know has zero percent to do with anything involving mother fucking
FAITH, I promise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Before I get into
mother fucking squat, believers and others; and maybe a student
teacher from 1972 who may have changed careers, or stuck with it, who
can know, Copyright Job Keeping Examiners of OHM-8; but I will make a
quick fucking list of why things are SUPER BOTBAR, then I will go
into some detail on matters that I feel need addressing in more
elaboration, fullness, and elucidation. I found out today that I was
knifed in the back by an old associate up the road. I learned that
someone did a President National Park Clinton on me yesterday near
the Publix, and yes folks, I meant to say that I made a fucking left
turn, not a right one, quite obviously. You'd have trouble keeping a
clear head too, if you were suffering 1% this fucking long and
severely, so don't you dare fucking laugh at me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
After wasting 18 dollars on a new remote, the entire machine broke
today, while I was trying to enjoy my Tuesday show of “L&O-SVU”,
and as I said; THE MARKET WILL FLY TOMORROW, AND AS I SAID THIS
YESTERDAY, AND IT OF COURSE FUCKING DID SO; I NOW PROCLAIM THIS ALL
OVER AGAIN, ONLY IT WILL BE A MUCH HUGER MOTHER FUCKING AMOUNT. What
do I mean by someone doing a Clinton? Well, real Morians and many
enemies know exactly, but some may not, so I will tell it more
clearly, YO, DOGS!!!!!!!!!! W-----O-----L-----F!!!!!!!!!!!! In 1995,
at the National Park, in Redbank, New Jersey, I saw another
non-high-school keeping jobs doppelganger, only this one was that of
William Jefferson Clinton in this part of the high school, Sir
Walter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Let's book out of here; there are no fucking cock sucking
war heroes on this fucking ass ambulance, brother
Vineland Chain-EEEE!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!
W-------O-------W!
I
regret that smashed Mountain Dew bottle, in August of 1986, with all
my heart and soul; and am so fucking like dead meat,
peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YO! Yes, I was trying to watch my
show tonight, and BAM, the machine burned up like a fucking bolt of
fucking ass lightning had struck it!!!!!!!!
The
dirt bag nabes have been in SLAM MODE ever since before this MAY
14 DEATH SIEGE began and struck me out of nowhere, just as
in the middle of AUGUST IN 1986. This really is just a SOSO-WEIN
shituation. The DOW JONES SHOT WAY UP, not as bad as I thought, but
it was done on my back as always, with this major PROPERTY DAMAGE
ATTACK, as the machine was giving me some trouble recently, and now I
know that it was mother fucking RASPBERRY
CARNIVAL HIT, BY THE WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!
Between
the fucking cunt BACK STAB, THE
NOISY NABES, THE FLYING
FUCKING DOW JONES STOCK MARKET,
AND THE DAMAGED PROPERTY, ON OR
OFF OF ANY EGYPTIAN BABYLONIAN TERRITORY; THIS
DAY WAS OFF THE SCALE FUCKING SUPER FUCKING COCK SUCKING ASS
BOTBAR!!!
I
AM GOING TO BE MOTHER FUCKING CUNT LAPPING MURDERED, MIZZ PAM BONDI,
LOVELY FLORIDA ATTORNEY GERNERAL NON BREAKDOWN, AND I JUST WANT YOU
TO KNOW SO THAT AFTER I AM FOUND DEAD IN THIS APARTMENT, THINGS WILL
JUST MAYBE GET LOOKED FUCKING INTO, I DOUBT IT, 99.9999%, BUT THERE
AIN'T NO FUCKING LAW AGAINST ME HOPING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
need to stop typing for 4 minutes or so, it is nine past eleven, and
I will not get struck by whore JANE for all the fucking dam ass love
in the cat house cubed, YO YO YO!!!!!
OK,
I am back, and am in regular time, Judge Copyrights, and let us all
get a big ass laugh on the fucking pathetic Mountainpen!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! It is now 11X2, as some of us LABBER'S
from 2294 would jokingly say, upon occasion, oh lovely Asian Girl,
Sir Detective Brog. You do not need to know it all, L-4, and as of
this current moment, whatever you all think you know about me and my
situation and especially with TAWF and WOMO, let me say, that that
suffices for the present moment, DOGS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where's
Matches McGuire when you need him, Randy
Vans??????????????????????????????? W-O-W!!!!!!!!!!
Doobey-doobey-doo,
and Nothing-Prophets, from the great illustrious
AT&T, who could go to bat for me, but won't, as they
know what side their bread is buttered on, WO, BH!!!!!!! Yeah bud,
you and PP said it all back in mother fucking ass time! Still I owe
all of you an apology. I know what is really going on, and you are
all just riding along and caught in the fucking currents and
undertows of this GREAT DREAM!!!!!!!!
Oh well, let us move this along, wonderful freaking peeps, YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO! What are the odds that Mikey called me with a very
logical explanation, while I was still outside yesterday, and all of
the stuff that went down all around these incidents, without
factoring in intentional fucking with the non-high-schools, oh
wonderful © Office? Boy oh boy, does Mountainpen have a mother
fucking wild ass vivid imagination, yeah shore; tell me another one,
on or off the beach, and for the hell of it, GOV! Thanks for ripping
me off in 2010, by not giving me my state income tax refund because
I left New Jersey. Like I wanted to leave big guy, SHEEEEEEEEIT. If
Ida stayed in that fucking house at 831 13th Street, I
would not be here right now, dude! Even the nice girl from the Saint
Lucie County Safe Space, told me I got out just in time
with my life, GOV. Sorry if that pisses all of fucking New Jersey
off, WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! Spin those crooked wheels of justice up
there, in or out of the lovely ass casinos, oh no, they do not cheat,
anymore than 'God' lies. But there are hidden ways of cheating and
deceiving, and when someone gets onto this secret fucking shit, they
basically are DEAD FUCKING MEAT, WORLD!!!!!!!!!
David
Charles Roth would understand this 100% if he was not a victim of
this horrendous fucking horse shit himself already, and dead. I TOLD
YOU, AND 'AT&T' HAS A RECORD OF IT, 1000 TIMES OVER; THAT WE WERE
DEAD FUCKING PEOPLE, AND WE ARE. I AM
DEATH, YOU MERELY PERCEIVE A DAM ILLUSION, OLD BUDDY.
This is why DEEDEE sits on my air conditioner outside, and follows me
all over. She knows that I AM DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My
death is way smaller than my HELL,
so which of these two fucking entities do you kind folks out here
think is going to become the dominating factor,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA????????
I
will look down and see green and you will look up and see brown, but
up and down, and green and brown; is all the same truth at zero
dimension; and you know that old buddy, as I taught you this; and you
echoed it right back to me that day in 1991, on Route 295. I remember
it all like it was happening yesterday. “Because of Z-D-T”, you
shouted at me at 100+DB, Uncle
Dave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Move over, all dam
light-switches from 1983, WEEEEEEEEEEEE! W—O—W!
Well
people, this will be a WHOPPER TODAY,
and you may quote any of three people here, Professor Pepperwinkle on
the original high phone bill Superman show, President Obama, and then
finally, little old nobody me, Mountainpen.
I
am not going to entertain you all with huge fonts, super wild stupid
swearing, or anything else like a blog over filled with brah's and
bro's and bree's and yo's. You will do yourself an extreme disfavor
if you skip it however, and you just go ahead and do this at your
free will and choice, both WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE and tiny group mingled
in, known as my Morians (BELIEVERS
in my truths, for the most part or perhaps entirely). I am holding at
a MPB-40% as of yesterday's horrendous emmereffing day that will
close out when I finish this blog, post it up, and go to 'sleep', as
mortal world residents would call the experience. But this blog will
contain quite a bit of tattle tailing and powerful stuff, ignore it
at your own potential funeral somewhere down the dimly lit road, good
kind folks, whoever you are, as frankly, Mister Rett Butler, I do not
care about those details, or for that matter, Congressman Andrews,
whether the city or the river, ran away with my mind, or whether or
not I have been lost in time, all these dam years, sir. I will open
by telling you that I knew I would get clobbered on my dam
systems-roulette tonight, and was not disappointed a small fraction,
losing 26 and a half emmereffing units. You can expect the DOW JONES
INDUSTRIALS to rise on tomorrow's markets, somewhere between 250 and
600 points, and you can bank on it folks, I PROMISE YOU, LOVELY MO!
Yes, I played five games, and got clocked, mostly on the final game,
as before that, I was only down three units, and was stupid, and
could not see the freaking writing on the wall as clear as Johnny
Clariton 1-2-3 ripoffs Lovernash, and merely quit at this small loss
for the day, knowing fully well, it could only do a Howard
Solomon Busted Eardrum, or an anti-dice,
or whatever, but real followers need not force me to spell out the
appropriate five letter word that starts with a 'W', and ends with an
'E', no rabbits, no Mike McNulty's, sorry, no time tonight. There's
too much to rock chucking say and I do not wish to type all
throughout the night. You will get your mind blown, unless you do not
want to, and have joined the two great world renown clubs, the
Missourians Club and the GWPOS CLUB, either or, or both; makes little
difference. The days of my doing security detail out in my car, at
the Cifaloglio place, comes to mind. The greatest system in the
universe could be used, but if I was being dive bombed by WOMO ENEMY
AIR STRIKES, and the skies were filled to the brim with nasty ass
chemtrails, making me ill and causing me to crap myself many times;
there is no way I could ever win. The weak link in the system I am
currently using is an over abundance of house vig numbers as well as
the evil-side-doubleton pattern, as one pattern wins, and the other
one destroys the system, and when it comes in, it comes in with a
vengeance, and you can play the dam wheel forever, and it will only
change if you do the unthinkable and try betting against the system,
as that inside the quantum foam of real true reality, makes the
system then start to work, and the bad patterns go away. BUT, you
still lose, either way you play the game, literally, and
figuratively. I got both hits tonight, clocked by runt slapping green
numbers or the house vig, as well as that one pattern that kills and
seems to remain endlessly unless you quit that wheel, and this is the
evil-side-doubleton pattern. This has a twin side that makes a
killing, as do strings and alternates, but this one pattern type,
will wipe out this particular gaming betting system, I promise. So
why does the one pattern come out so vigorously, tenaciously,
obstinately, and regularly, and by that I mean you can set your watch
to it if you are me, as all super attacks will eventually bring the
one pattern that just will not quit, and really wipes me out, and I
can count the truck on it, folks. This was a serious botbar day, and
I am five for seven now, in other words only 2-non-botbar days were
in the last seven days total, and for the month, I am now 12 botbar
days for the 20 days of May so friggin' far, good people. I did speak
to Debbie Marotto, but it is merely a futile expenditure of energy.
No on else complains, and the architecture of the system is why.
Don't ask me the details, it is too lengthy. Being across from these
bastard scum bags, only I get the full brunt of their evil
wickedness, and unless others complain, no one will ever help me. You
see, this is proof that I do not count in this world one tiny bit. No
one gives a blasted dam if I live or die, not one soul, and so, I do
not care one bit about this world, and it can go blow up right now,
and that is just fine with me. Do you want honesty or deception, from
this blogger. You're the one reading my words, do you want them to
just be a bunch of pretty sounding lies? Now let me begin to break
down this horrible botbar day for you, my believers. It started with
hearing a loud aerial vessel outside, I am sure of it. Now the rest
of the entire day was air free for me, nothing out of the ordinary,
once I went out to do an errand or two, and boy will we explore what
happened to me, good folks, and really, if you are not sitting down,
I strongly urge you to do so before reading further along. If you do
not and you hit your head when you fall down; please don't blame me,
as I TOLD YOU!
After
the air sound, while I was reading some of my stuff on the computer,
and after being up and awake a short time, arising around quarter
past eleven or so yesterday morning; the evil mother fucking
neighbors across from me, began their 'BING
BANG BONG BOOMING' of
doors; over, and over, and over again; FORT PIERCE POLICE
DEPARTMENT, AND NARCOTICS DIVISION! I was going to go out later on in
the afternoon, but it was as though the forces of Misses 1969 Marola,
and her 'MUST
HAVE ME DO THE SCHOOL PLAY' ON MEMORIAL DAY, stuff all
over again; that put me on some perfect cosmic schedule, just as it
did back then, to be on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, at a
perfectly timed minute and second, so as to witness and experience
something; and this time, it was again, all done for me to be
someplace, and witness another awesome something; and so let me now
get to all of that. First I spoke to my Resident Manager, after
returning from my errands, and not initially. All I did was take out
my trash and throw it down the chute on my floor near the elevators,
even my mail was not checked and received by me, until I returned
back to the building. I wanted to get up to the HARVEST, and see my
old pal, JASPER. I was not going to rest, until I told him a very
horrible thing that Mikey had accused him of, with no evidence or
real good reason whatsoever, and we will not get into it all,
although, the local television reporters may know just exactly what
is being talked about here right now on this blog. I never agreed
with him about this, and did not like it when he did all that trash
talking, but only after he totally screwed me over and vanished, was
I boiling mad, and decided a few days ago that indeed, I would
retaliate and tell Jasper how he has been trash talking his
reputation all over town, and he has, and then Jasper told me, he is
aware that someone in fact was spreading that around, and he was
quite appreciative to learn that it was Mikey. I only rat out rats
that deserve it. Only if you hurt me will I rat you out on something,
really hurt me, and for no good dam ass reason. If I see something
that is none of my business, I walk on, and that is that. I have seen
and witnessed enough things in my life to write a billion essays on
it, but again, I stress that I am not a rat. A rat does this. I do
not really tattle-tail. I just feel that when someone does me real
friggin' wrong, then they deserve a little payback, and if most
people are honest with themselves, they will tell me they agree with
me. Now I mean this people, be sitting down for what I'll tell you
next, L-4.
I
did not purchase one single item at the Harvest Store back yesterday,
Monday, and I may have indeed needed a few snacks, some cookies and
crackers and stuff that normally would cost 30 bucks, that you can
get for about 5 bucks there, just because the stuff may be a month
past expiration dates. 4:5, the stuff is fresh and good, so risking 5
dollars and usually coming up a winner, does not bother me at all. I
mean they sell limeade and lemonade for 5-9 bucks for 6 gallons or 12
half-gallon cartons. It is not always in the cooler, many times just
apple juice or orange juice is there, and I am only a grape juice and
lime and lemon drinker. Still, I only had telling Jasper what I told
him, on my mind, and I did; and things seemed to be getting better on
the day until I got down the mother freaking road about 2 blocks.
There would never be a real need for a dam cop or a dam law, if
everyone had my conscience, and upbringing; and try as I might not
to brag; I am a gentleman when I
am outside my door. I don't curse or rarely, and never around women
and children; and I watch my manners, and act refined. I don't put on
airs or the dog, or any of that. I don't go 'dahhling', and use nine
syllable words or try showing off or bragging about my Huntington
family. Nobody knows me, and I try to keep it all that way, other
than for screaming out online about my life and the injustices
involved, and the people involved as well, that I feel totally, are
causing it all, and are totally responsible for it all. I am not all
that shy on my blogs, nor am I sorry. But outside my door in the real
world, I behave my freaking self. I never ever look at girls, I never
ever do anything wrong or illegal. Women always bothered me all my
life, not the other way around. Now that I am old and ugly, most of
the time, this has lessened, praise the gods!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, I got
down the road a few blocks, and my conscience started bothering me
real ass fucking bad, good people. I know I shouldn't have ratted the
bastard out. He really hurt me, the mother fucker. Still, is that any
reason or excuse for me to be no better than him, by my behavior
being rotten and shitty? The answer of course is an unequivocal NO. I
still feel way more terrible and guilty than I feel compensated or
relieved or avenged. I was brought up by a very good mother, praise
the gods, and all though I did not believe all her religious horse
shit 100%, I have come to know that there is something out there
beyond any and all human reasoning, as I have experienced a lifetime
of shit that proves and verifies this totally, and I could witness in
any and every church on this planet!!!!!!! But it gets way way way
freaking better than this, so hold onto your big ugly hat, Mister
McGraw, you bumpkin! Wow what an ego bruise for him, Microsoft. Let
me move on now.
Feeling about three feet tall, 25 inches less than I really am, there I was in my car, now heading away from the Harvest Store, and towards the PUBLIX GROCERY STORE in town, on Route-1 or the (Federal Highway), same thing. Mikey goes to this store and this mini-mall a lot, and banks at the bank there as well; and I know all that from back when I was helping him to do his errands, after he had just left the Lawnwood Hospital here in town; and after he was recuperating from his surgical procedure, for his hernia problems. I spotted him walking towards one of the stores that was perhaps half a dozen stores to the north of the Publix, in this very large mini-mall area. He has a walk that no one else in this world has, and is very slender and I know him from the front as well as the back like I know the back of my hands. I slowly crept up on him, as you need to drive slowly in a mini-mall anyway, and I managed to get ahead of him and look both ways before making a right turn to head closer to a parking area for the Publix Customers, but I looked back with my eyes in the rear view mirror, and get ready folks, and this is gospel truth so help me, I swear this under penalty of libel, perjury, slander, and any criminal maliciousness whatsoever, as well as on the Almighty Goddess Herself, SSJKK, (Sarah-Stacey Krassle), Queen of the Astral Plane. Not only was it Mikey, but he colored his hair, and changed the style of it. It is totally yellow blond, and he has totally different eyeglasses as well. I have known this mid sixtyish man for the entire time I have lived down here in Florida, as he always was working the front desk of the HARVEST, and I went there for help when I first got into town, on advice from the landlady of the RV-PARK, the Manatee RV Park, also on Route-1, in the White City section of town, at the opposite corner from where the Harvest place is, as they are up in the north-west, and White City is down in the south-east corner of this large 7 mile square town area of nearly 50 square miles. This man would never under any ordinary circumstances, ever do anything one tenth as absurd as dying his hair bright yellow, altering his appearance entirely, and yes, even his style of dress was day and night difference, from what I knew all that time that I knew this man. Dick Wolf and Donald Trump, and all their pals could not say it better, and they did say it over and over, right there on the television broadcast, during many airings of the greatest law show ever, surpassing even the once all time great PERRY MASON, and I quote them, with their permission hopefully; “YOU JUST CAN'T MAKE THIS KIND OF STUFF UP”. Then again, you cannot make up 1969, 1974, 1980, and shall I really bother to go on, ladies and gentlemen? Anyone able to make up something even close to MORIANITY, well, I would bow down to them as I would the freaking Almighty. So boweth not down to me folks, as I am not worthy. I did not make any of this up, nor would I have one thousandth of the sufficient amount of talent to indeed do so, and when I'm accused of this; it is quite a boost to my little tiny nobody worthless ego!
Before
I take us still onward, I will tell you what GAGA kitty and I
discussed, two little 'Q&A' deals, that you may be interested in
hearing about.
Why
is this sudden
super super super
DEATH-SIEGE,
on me, beginning on Tuesday, May the fourteenth, that has as of now,
brought me 5 super botbar days out of the last seven days and
bringing me now to a major monster 40% Magnetic Percentage Botbar
(MPB)?
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW,
AND NO PIANO SONGS, PCN-981.
Why
did the Almighty SSJKK show me her demise in a parallel universe,
right before this middle May 2013 death period in my life, and tell
me that she is not planning to leave her great city that much longer
to come here?
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW,
AND NO PIANO SONGS, PCN-352.
I
don't fucking dare list the shit, people; but you should know a lot
of these match list items, and you can figure some more out on your
own, and always feel free to comment and tell me some new ones. I
will not act all ignorant and stupid like I did last time someone
posted a video on my blog. Nobody ever tells me shit, and I do not
know that peeps do this online. I am fucking old YO, and dumb as
fucking ass hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HAVE PITY ON ME! God Almighty,
that is more than dirt fucking bag Jane F. is ever going to, after
wrecking my life 20 years ago, at the fucking Atlanta, Georgia, USA
Ballpark that horrible monster ass night with that zoom in ones
display, and now it is again, mother fucking page eleven of eleven,
so let me try and compensate here, please.
TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555,
PUSS 555555555, CRIMES 555555555555555555555555, DIVIDED CRY
5555555555;
IS EQUAL TO WHO FUCKING BUNT-TAPPING CARES. LET ME LOOK AT THESE
NICE, NO, NOT ONES, BUT
FIVES;
DO YOU SEE
THE POWER OF THE WOMO
ENEMY, AND THEIR DIRT BAG FUCKING ETTOS YET, BELIEVERS??????????????
They made me type, 'those lovely ones' that is a MIND-HACK, and it is
done with real POWER, Patty Jane Greatnecks!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
aim those magical bullets at me
at your wonderful bully bar, Robert, the
old Morianity-Foundation Website,
displayed a total proof of your transdimensional abilities in many
various ways, on that October day back in filthy OHM-6! I tried
putting a comma, after the green word 'ME' and it hacked out a lot of
stuff, so I hit the undo last thing key, and cannot place a comma
where it needs to go. This is the power of daring to talk about
crossing over the Amtrak or the Chappaquiddick Bridge, good
believers.
MAGNESONIC,
I NEED MAJOR HELP AND MAJOR STRIKES AGAINST MY ENEMIES, ALL ORDERS,
ALL TECKS, ALL COMMANDS, DO IT, DO NOT SPARE THESE DIRT BAGS, SO
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
AND EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
AND S-------T-------O-------P! I have decided to tell lots of other
things at a later time, pillow talking daddy of Star Trek-74. E/T!
MORIANITY
PART 5 CONTINUES FOLKS!!!!!!!!!
MAGNESONIC,
I NEED MAJOR HELP AND MAJOR STRIKES AGAINST MY ENEMIES, ALL ORDERS,
ALL TECKS, ALL COMMANDS, DO IT, DO NOT SPARE THESE DIRT BAGS, SO
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
AND EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
AND S-------T-------O-------P! I have decided to tell lots of other
things at a later time, pillow talking daddy of Star Trek-74.
E/T!12:34
PM-EDST, 20 MAY, 2013
FORT
PIERCE POLICE AND PUBLIC HOUSING AUTHORITY
MY
DIRT BAG CRIMINAL THUG NEIGHBORS BEGAN PERSECUTING AND HARASSING ME
AROUND QUARTER SHY OF NOON GIVE OR TAKE, IT IS ABOUT AN HOUR NOW OF
CONTINUAL IN AND OUT BANGING OF THEIR FUCKING DOOR.
I
HAVE CIVIL AND HUMAN RIGHTS, AND THIS IS A VIOLATION OF THOSE RIGHTS,
WHEN I HAVE LEGITIMATELY COMPLAINED AND HAVE ONLY BEEN TOLD I CAN GET
A MEDICAL NOTE AND THEY WILL LET ME MOVE, WHY SHOULD I BE THE ONE
FORCED TO MOVE, FORT PIERCE POLICE, WHEN I AM NOT THE ONE DAMAGING
PROPERTY, GOING IN AND OUT 24 HOURS A DAY CONTINUALLY, AN OBVIOUS
DRUG RELATED ACTIVITY, WHY?
This
all is a persecution that is part of something going on fucking now
for cunt lapping 27 years, and has to do with causing an INTENTIONAL
PARALLEL OF EVENT, between myself, and WALL STREET, as the powerful
WORLD OWNERS or the (WOMO), totally know, that HURTING ME = AN
ENDLESS UPSWINGING DOW JONES.
WORLD
COURT AT THE HAGUE, you and all of the world authorities are pathetic
and impotent. If this was not the case, you would INVESTIGATE MY HELL
AND DO YOUR DAM FUCKING JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, it is quite obvious that the mother, the daughter, abnd the
electron designer, are all one and the same reality, inside this huge
horrendous mother fucking video-game of the LAWNMOWER MAN. I don't
need to guess the name of any guests, I know them, it is LAWNMOWER
MAN ONE, and LAWNMOWER MAN TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
**MORIANITY
PART FIVE**
THIS
IS MORIANITY,
PART FIVE. PLEASE
HAVE A VERY
NICE DAY.
CHAPTER
00089, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
SLAM-SLAM-BOOM-BANG-BONG.
These jerk
offs, are screaming and slamming doors tonight; what else is mother
fucking new? This has not been a good day, sort of holding BOTBUR,
meaning unofficial BOTBAR and unless something can perk me up before
daylight starts to put Mizz Delaney into dream-land, this will close
out as a 4:5 BOTBAR, with FRIDAY as the day in-between that is
keeping shit from fucking being a total
BOTBAR-5-STRING, YO YO YO!!!!!
If
the doors keep slamming, I will just keep telling the office until
they get tired of my complaints, come Monday, as she keeps insisting
that between 10 and midnight, noise must slow down and stop, and this
is not the case with these mother fucking thugs of washed hands,
family friends, and prison inmate collect calls that somebody
anticipated like space platforms and ship building and Humpback
whales, long before reality caught up with itself, and thought I was
going to do another tune with another verifiable introduction, or
even a harmony track, after-all, how about a nice Halloween song,
would this not be an appropriate thing for a dude whose copyrights
have been officially registered on October 31, on three separate
mother fucking years; maybe this is how the dirty underwear of
marriages and sleep walk body snatchers from the past, is all about?
Still, there must be a lot more to it all, as why else would I be the
one so totally concentrated on, by this INCREDIBLE
FUCKING STAR FAMILY???
Jesus fucking Christ Almighty,
BREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Al
Jolson, hold onto your dick eating hat, old buddy!
First,
this day began getting bad not all that long after I was up, and I
slept in late until a bit past noon. It may have been an hour and a
half past, somewhere give or take; believers. In any event, extremely
weird fucking outlandish shit is going on, and you are the only few
in this part of the localized fifth dimension, who believe me,
partially at least, as the entire rest of humanity has either
betrayed me, taken some kind of collective payoff; or in some unknown
other way; been ETOSS
influenced and controlled,
or dominated; to believe in the
endless 'GWPOS' lies of 1994,
giant cops and giant visiting sleep-walking non-Russell Goddesses,
and other such unexplainable esoteric phenomena, all notwithstanding,
YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!! You need not know all of the bullshit, as
it will weaken my position, empire against empire, FREE verses FEE;
for those few who just may remember, huh daut? I know you do, and you
do not fool me for a second, lovely BEG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOLF-WOLF, did it all not start, A-----L-----L, right after first
speaking to the great CAMDEN
COUNTY PROSECUTOR
PEEPS, ON THE FIFTH DAY IN DECEMBER OF 1989, WHAAA? Gimme a bweak
somebody, or at least you Elmer fucking cunt chewing Fwudd
Waaaaaaabit. This is totally wedikolus, MACK KAITER, and cousin
Newsman Lester Nonupline, WEEEEEEEEEE,
BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Jesus fucking cunt lapping god
almighty, for shit stinking sake,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This bites and chews worse
than Mizz Delaney of May and June in 1969, retarded ice cream shops
and all, huh old dude pal Brad? Yeah I'm bad, but also glad and sad,
and all sorts of other fucking horse shit that does not right this
minute, require all sorts of dam ass fucking explanations, Captain
Suzanne Kirkwhales!!!!!!!! Moving this right along now at five past
fucking midnight, things are worse for me than they have been now
since back in the days when David Roth and myself, drove over to
Camden City in Jersey, to see Prosecutor ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, and
that piece of crap Abbey Carmichael pop-back, Mizz dick licking Donna
Spinosi, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Prick Dick Wilson came along later on,
after Cuzz Donnie placed a little cabbage somewhere. Everyone in
Jersey is in a lot of pockets, and all of it connects into great
lovely Washington-13-non-alternating-current, WHAAAAAAA; time now if
you want, Mike McNulty (MMCN)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BANG,
BOOM, SLAM, at 12:09 AM, PUBLIC HOUSING FUCKING CUNT AUTHORITY OF
FLORIDA, AND FORT PIERCE, YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho
folks, let me stop stripping the gears to all October five time
traveling hell, and move on from a lot more than my dream memories;
but to a greater bunch of us who have all had the BITE PUT ON US,
LIKE
WOW, T.D. STACEY KRASSLE!!!!! My
god dam fucking mom was a little nosy, as are all wives; but seeing a
marriage license of your spouse, divorced or not, fall out of a gym
type bag filled with dirty underwear; along with a large GUN, oh yes;
and whether he had the carry-license or not, I have a powerful reason
to believe I could blog for 300 years, and only tell a smattering of
just why he felt the need to indeed, have this big old ugly gun in
the first place, back in mother fucking January of 1974, so
Shidaleedee, and sing it with me, Bread and If, WEEEEEEE!!
I
know a lot about somnambulism and sleep walkers. I have two beautiful
special daughters by one, and my mom was one, for the final 26 months
of her pathetic fucked up life; of the PROJECT
BLUEBOOKERS CLUB,
YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!! Give me a dam break, shall I just list off
the top of my head, a few tiny things that real fucking MORIANS can
dot-connect in seconds, and do BELIEVE? Tom Reale acting like WW-3
had just begun when I got off the jitney bus in Ventnor on 5 July of
1970, after returning from the Atlantic City fireworks show. Misses
Marola forcing me to do that school play, a year and a month earlier,
on Memorial Day; back then it always fell on 31 May, and that was in
'Friendly-Shops' not ice cream 'meanings of life tapes' in 1969; oh
great wise chip swami of the cosmic ages,
WEEEEEEEEEE, Chester. Yeah, we both know who you are, but do you know
who TAWF is? Ask PP; he has seen enough to be a believer 99 times
over, but insists on remaining a dues paying, card carrying member,
of both the Missourians Club, and the GWPOS CLUB, WOW,
SSJKK, I BEG THEE!
Let
us move this right along before lots of great gears all grind up and
breakdown, and force me to wash
my hands
and keep a lot cleaner than the Suffolk County know-it-all, Mister
Bacon; who is as I hear tell it, quite dirty again; and has his
whittle mommy pwetty upset, wabbit; Whaaaaaaaa. Dope is for dopes,
and texting and driving is the dumber part here, of 'dumb and
dumber'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mike,
it's time, YO.
Folks, Linda-Lee
Norman Horn and David Bacon, along with the great Darius Evans, and a
lot more, are all part of the same type of Astral-Plane situation,
that the human club called the Illuminati, mirror images the great
and powerful non-oz condition-interaction, known as the LAMBRIGG
CULT OF THE TECK
BAY, IN THE
PROVINCE
OF OLYMPIA, ON
THE ASTRAL-PLANE.
Linda-Lee told me, at the great Fort Pierce Harvest, at the Happy &
Healthy intersection, of Walgreen 25th
and Orange, in northwest Fort Pierce, Florida; back in early
twenty-eleven somewhere, to go to the 'parent-child connection
meetings', held there at quitting time, as back then, this was at one
in the afternoon, and I was walking out the door to go a few blocks
to the north, over into the hood at Twenty-Sixth Street and Avenue E;
where I shared a walled sectioned off duplex home, managed by two of
the fucking cunt lapping weirdest and strangest peeps, that I ever
came to know, since 1969, and my encounter under the Central Pier;
that gave true meaning to the famous song “Under The Boardwalk”,
and the powerful later to be known in future times, “Summer Of
Love”, not the song that PP wrote, and yes, he told me to share
half of the song legally, in exchange for all the money that I lost
in that crumby ass fucking music venture that started out as the 1998
Songshop, and ended up shortly thereafter as the great Permission
Barrier
book predicted,
Studio
Park Records.
Yes, but returning again to the mysterious Misses Linda-Lee Norman
Horn, and not Lena Horn, but then Lenny Briscoe, oh Jesus; you have
to see why this cannot ever work the way that you would like it to,
Mizz Terry Egg Harbor, so Dawn-Marie, and Ann King; can smirk all day
and night long for fucking eternity, for all I give a rats ass prick;
every time we got neat the city detention center, thinking, “We
know something you don't know”, and then why not drive on to the
nearest sand box or maybe a big ass play pen, crissake, YO? Oh yes,
Dave Bacon, she insisted I go to these meetings and tell the big
secret of 'not the hammer' and she was more persistent every week
that Eric was due to come in to conduct the class, until I finally
went, and even told him privately, what had happened to me back in
both 1969, and in 2008. Talk about demonic possession, or other old
world terms and expressions. She would not quit until I did this.
Then when it all went totally fucking south of all borders, I asked
her why she did this and she insisted GOD told her to, and I wanted
to hear a little more, and she had no more to tell; and gave me the
very same long stare empty face look, that my mom would get, when she
was sleep walking after that horrible attack on the day after 1997
Christmas fucking day. The same thing that was inside of David,
Darius' pal back in 2011; telling me to wash my hands for no reason
whatsoever, and causing me to not be able to miss hearing while we
all were outside on a break, and he was talking to the lovely teen
cashier, that was working there back then; and I'll quote, “I know
everyone in Suffolk County”. We are talking about Long Island, New
York, folks, and right there where I was forced to suffer through
lots of misery, huh Aunt Ruth Huntington, and 'Uncle Nebyachts',
Heinz Gottwald Hilehitler. This is just a surface scratch. Taking
this and multiplying it all, about 50 fucking ass times; and the
entire story comes out clear and true, Copyright Office; so be
advised, please; 29 years or so ago, and yes; it is time,
MMCN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't even try and tell me this entire
thing for 13,000 years is all up in my head, don't EVEN FUCKING T—R—Y
it folks, please, please; and fucking pretty ass PLEASE, with all the
sugar and cupcakes and ice cream in the state of fucking Missouri!
TANKS,
& W---O---W!
SHEEEEEEIT, cut
me a break there for old times sake, in 1985; OK MARGIE LEO,
YO????????????????????????????
My
father and I both were involved with the Callio clan all right, JUST
AS ALL THE FUCKING FAKE PATTY JANE PSYCHICS SAID, and if they all are
fake, there is a network with many of them, that helps them share
shit; and they know a ton of mother fucking secrets. There is a way I
can prove that Dirtbag Trump Network, and his pals, know of this, use
this; and helped to feed those same dirt bags over in England, that
made the news a while back. I am just the main one on the list that
was listened to, and then messed with, but in my case; they all knew
better than to ever tell the story, as Goddess Almighty would tear
the entire world to shreds, if this ever came out, in a way that is
believable; and not on the blog of a maniac nutcase, who escaped the
Dave
& Darius Ripoff Sikeward of Harvested Musicians
of the Washed Up Society!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where are you when
I need you, Howard Solomon, and Doogie Howser????????? Then she tells
me the other day, that she is going to stay a lot more in her great
city. Well, you got me stuck here girl, so if you do not stay here,
then you better take me with you. I think playing your games now for
13,000 years, is long enough, lovely BROWN-EYED-GIRL; with or without
the bite bushes. Gee, can it all be so dam real, and totally
connected up? Jeese Louise, Comcast Hangten; like freaking
super ass WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
sir, when the mighty MICROSOFT
world owners,
updated my PC a couple days back, it totally fucked up my internet
connection. It took a while to get some programs to finally let me
back in. I should not have to go through this persecution, but then,
what part of this 60 year current-ME nightmare, SHOULD
I BE GOING THROUGH;
if you wish to be technical about this mother fucking horse shit,
YO?????
When
the FUCKING
WOMO-MILITUFORCE
broke my remote control, they scored huge gains as they always do,
when they FUCKING CUNT LAPPING DAMAGE
MY
PROPERTY!!!!!!
This has not been going on since my blogs started. Blogging onto the
interconnected networking computer system, is just the tail end of my
MORIANITY
MOTHER FUCKING TALE OF WOE AND MISERY, GOOD FOLKS. This shit all
began on a precise fucking cunt eating date, and that fucking date
is, no matter how cock licking tired you all must be now of seeing it
in print on these blogs so often, truth is truth; and that
DATE IS, 15
AUGUST, IN 1986,
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
remote control replacement was eighteen mother fucking dollars, that
I do not have to spare; the rotten mother fucking bastard, bottom
feeding, sewer sipping, toilet seat
rockers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is what will
destroy me, with a mother fucking DOW
JONES AT ENDLESS CONTINUAL ALL TIME RECORD
HIGHS. I used
to call these NIGHTMARE FUCKING ASS PERIODS, AND RIGHTFULLY SO;
'BALL
CRIME DEAD CHORD CRYS'!!!!!
IT
FUCKING RHYMES, IT IS FUCKING TRUE, AND IT FUCKING CHEWS A TIGERS
WANG, AT LIGHT VELOCITY, FUCKING ASS SQUARED!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
Fuck
all of this twisted ass disease. Kiss my 90% honky-ass, YO! I will
dial 911 if these doors do not stop mother fucking slamming, as it is
quarter past cunt sucking one in the dam morning, FORT PIERCE,
POLICE. HAY, MAYBE I WILL SEND THEM AN E-MAIL ATTACHMENT OF THE
BLOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My god dam dad told
me shit in his sleep that blew me away in January of 1974, even
though most of it went over my head and made no sense at the time,
just like being down on the mother fucking Black Horse Pike with no
Apocalypse or portents of biblical prophecy; at the world renown
JULIA'S Psychic Readings Shop, on the bay. I now know she thinks of
home a lot, and another bay, a place far away; and yet while we
sleep, I guess the great SSJKK cares. After-all, she claims this, in
those wonderful song lyrics, and again; this is not really my song,
it is HER song in 1980; and she did sing it to me, and this was all
gearing up, way back then; with or without any miscarriages, or
highways that do not belong near Robin Hill Apartments; in this part
of localized hyperspace. No Dorothy, I have no intention of
surrendering. I will leave for fucking Mexico as soon as the summer
is over, and the weather is just perfect; not wintry yet, not
blistery hot; and no major storms around. FUCK-U, WFMU! I
WILL DIAL
911, AND PRESS
CHARGES
IF THESE DOORS KEEP GOING PAST TWO. I WILL GIVE THEM EVERY CHANCE TO
STOP BEING TOTAL MOTHER FUCKING JERK OFFS, BEFORE I PRESS
CHARGES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
55555555555555555555555555555555555555555,
for page eleven of eleven, this will compensate as well as cunt
phlegm rape, time again for you, Mike McNulty, old buddy!!!
Do
I believe that the great Julia White, the top Lieutenant of the
Viqueen Gang, belonging to the Almighty Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle,
is indeed the identity of Paula King, daughter of John King and
distant relative of Ann King's grandfather? No and yes. This is one
of them. I believe that another one is Melanie, the one and only.
This is what they or She did to your soul and your song, but that is
just in the opinion of one of your old fans, Mel. I have nothing that
will stand up in any court, and if I did, I would find myself blown
to bits by a great warship out on the dam Indian River, along with
Tim and his friend the Vice President, in some altered Ozville. I
believe Monica and Melanie and Paula, are only three. There are about
50 drivers licenses in the continental United States, and 50 real
lives are being lived, well; sort of lived, like off and on, whenever
the systems turn on or off, or as my old pal the Congressman put it
back in 1975 so perfectly, and so often;
“WHATEVER”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do I believe that MDE
and the endless mystery of the TRINIDAD or TRINITY depending on how
far north or south you may be living; is now officially explained?
Well, I want real badly to say my favorite spiel right about now, and
go, “You bet your cute cornfield ass, lovely Annie Costner”, only
in good conscience; we will keep the Trinity a real mystery, even
FROM MORIANITY, until and unless; this mere mortal eventually has
sufficient evidence to prove mom and kid are Kent and soup. Oh well,
I have more than said enough to get the dirty underwear tempers
flaring and raging. If I know my wonderful SSJKK, I will get the
fucking shit kicked out of me soon when I drop out of this reality
for a while, so wish me lots of lick, believers. I do not ever wish
to anger Jehovah. I love her more than life, and a trillion anythings
all combined together; but the gods help me, as I am totally curious
and there is no turning back. Not after these fucking 60 years of
this wild guessing names, and guesting games, WEEEEEEEEEE,
BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Make
that WOW!
I
have really kicked fucking ass during these 5 days of hell now peeps
and believers, YO, in my SYSTEMS-ROULETTE. I made 13 units today, and
this was a bad day, three games, all winning games. Yesterday I made
one and a half units, and the four days prior to that, I eeked out an
average of one unit each day, a nice average 6-day unit profit of at
least +3 units per day in the past 6 days of mostly major nasty ass
HELL, nearly two grand on the black gaming 100 dollar playing level,
YO, AHA-AHA-AHA, Mister McNulty!!!!! Also, I spoke with my cat, GAGA,
or Gawky Gaukauk, I have shortened it
after all this time, and first remembered him in 1980 until later, as
in the STAR TREK movie called GENERATIONS, came to stop seeing things
in 3-D, a very limited way to live human life, but I'll admit,
simpler. It seems he and I went back to '77 when he cut me into
little tiny pieces at his Teck Bay Mystery School, and then there was
another time 5 years before that, when I followed my own daughter
into her home and witnessed the unbloggable. Well, let us get into a
little GAGA-Q&A, whatcha say folks?
WHY
IS MY 'YBCO' SONG SUCH A MONUMENTAL PROBLEM, NOT BEING ABLE TO MAKE
THE VIDEO, OR POST IT, AND ALL OF THE TROUBLE IT HAS CAUSED, IN MY
FUCKING LIFE FOR 14 MONTHS OR SO NOW, YYYYYYYYY, JIMMY YYYYY, OH I
MEAN KITTY, THIS IS 30 YEARS UP IN THE FUTURE,
GAGA??????????????????????
MEOW-MEOW,
WHAAAAAA, PCN-927.
NEED I REALLY GIVE SOME OF THE POWERFUL FUCKING MATCH LIST ITEMS?
WHY
DID I GET THAT HORRENDOUS FUCKING DEATH SIEGE JUST SHY OF 8 AT NIGHT
ON THE 16TH, ON MY THIRD FUCKING ASS BOTBAR HELL DAY, GAGA???
MEOW-MEOW,
WHAAAAAA, PCN-770.
AGAIN, DO I REALLY NEED
TO GIVE YOU THE FUCKING LIST, GREAT PAULAGA??
DO
WE FUCKING NEED A 'W---O---W'?
AND
YES PEOPLE, 990 WAS THE PCN GIVEN WHEN I ASKED WHY THE SECOND BOTBAR
STRUCK ME SO HARD ON THE FIFTEENTH FUCKING DAY OF MAY. I HAVE TO SHUT
UP OR MY KID WILL HAVE MY HEAD ON TWO PIKES, THE WHITE HORSE AND THE
BLACK HORSE WILL RIDE, DEMI MOORE AND FATHER MARREL. HOLLYWOOD (THE
EW) KNOWS IT ALL, WHO IS KIDDING WHO? MADE IN HEAVEN VANISHES, INTO
THE TURNERSVILLE PATHMARKS, OF AUGUST 2, IN 1996? IT IS TIME FOR YOU
AGAIN, MMCN!!!!! But this is not the biggie, sir Ziggy; not by a
mother fucking super ass long-shot, Mister
Perry Louigee WHITE.
I asked my GAGA kitty out of the 81 PCN'S, which one best describes
the connection to my oldest daughter and me, and I swear to the gods
of the Astral-Plane, I received the number of PCN-954, and I only
have five match-list-items for that number, and
I WILL PRINT THEM, THE GODS HELP ME IN MY SLEEP
SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY ARE AS FOLLOWS:
(HALLOWEEN)
(OCTOBER FIVE TWO THOUSAND EIGHT) (WAYNE MOHR) (DIANE ROSS)
(GUATEMALA) I
have said way more than enough, I talk too dam ass much, good people,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now, there are recent things
told on blogs, that I want front and center. No need to have to click
all around, so read on. If you click the past few blogs, other stuff
will be there, but this is more necessary, for right now, YO. Have a
nice day, while I fucking roast in a German Kessle pot of boiling
broiling HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HUGE
ENDLESS STOCK MARKET RALLY CONTINUES,
JUST
EXACTLY AS I SAID THAT IT WOULD, DAY AFTER DAY, WEEK AFTER WEEK; AS
'THEY' PUT ME THROUGH TOTAL MOTHER FUCKING
HELL LAST WEEK, AND GAINED
ANOTHER 3 HUNDRED POINTS AS A RESULT!!
MORIANITY
PART
FIVE:
HERE
IS MY PROOF TO JUST A FEW TINY MOTHER FUCKING THINGS, AND I HAVE NOT
EVEN STARTED TO PASTE IN MY LIFE. IT
WOULD TAKE A MUCH GREATER COMPUTER, WITH PETA BYTES OF
MEMORY AND PROCESSING SPEED ON PAR WITH THAT OF THOSE IN FORT MEADE,
MARYLAND AT THE NATIONAL SECURITY OR 'NO SUCH'
(AGENCY)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---- !!!
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---- !!!
55555555555555555555555555555555555555
I
TOOK ANOTHER HUGE FUCKING ATTACK AND ASSAULT, FEDERAL
BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, MIAMI AND JACKSONVILLE FIELD FUCKING
OFFICE, AND FLORIDA STATE POLICE, AND LOCAL PEEDEE. IT ALL STARTED AT
SHY OF EIGHT THIS MOTHER FUCKING EVENING. HUGE HORRIBLE ILLEGAL
MOTHER FUCKING JET CHEMTRAILS ALL OVER THIS AREA POPPED UP
OUT OF NOWHERE, THEN A HUGE COMPUTER ATTACK
LATTISAW JACK HACK, ALSO STRUCK, WHILE TRYING TO WORK THE
MACHINE. MICROSUCKS IN
LEAGUE WITH WOMO, MADE THE
SYSTEM TURN ON, AT 8 ON THE NOSE, WITH THEIR UPDATES CRAP. THEN I
LOOKED OUT OF MY WINDOW, WHILE GETTING UP AND COMING OVER HERE TO THE
COMPUTER; AND EVEN THOUGH THE SUN HAD SET, BRIGHT HUGE LIT UP DAYTIME
AREAS WERE ALL OVER THE BUILDING ABOVE ME, AS UP THERE, IT IS NOT
SUNSET TIME YET. IF I HAD A VIDEO FUCKING
SYSTEM AND KNEW HOW TO MOTHER FUCKING OPERATE IT LIKE OTHER FOLKS DO,
I WOULD HAVE HAD A VIRAL MOTHER FUCKING VIDEO, OR REALLY, NO I WOULD
NOT, AS YOUTUBE, IN LEAGUE WITH GOOGLE-MICROSUCKS, HAS A BLOCKADE ON
MY STUFF. ANYONE CAN SEE IT. THERE
IS A HUGE QUESTION MARK AFTER THE VIEW COUNT ON MY
NIGHTMARE FUCKING SONG? THE ACTUAL COUNT SHOULD
READ SEVENTEEN (17) VIEWS, WITH NO QUESTION MARK. ALL OTHER
VIEWS ARE ME WATCHING MY OWN STUFF, AND MY TRYING TO LINK UP OR SHARE
THE VIDEO WITH BLOG SITES, & THEY SHOULD HAVE
A WAY TO FILTER THE MOTHER FUCKING COUNTER WHEN IT IS THE
COMPUTER THAT UPLOADED THE VIDEO, THAT HAS CLICKED TO VIEW IT, NOT
COUNTING IT. THEN THEY ADD A LOT OF SYMBOLS LIKE PLUSSES AND QUESTION
MARKS, & THIS ENTIRE THING IS A
VIOLATION OF MY MOTHER FUCKING CUNT EATING CIVIL RIGHTS, AND IS JUST
FOR THE RICH PEOPLE, AS ARE ALL THINGS, FROM FUCKING
CHEATED ASS WALL STREET, ALL THE WAY DOWN TO MAIN STREET! I AM SO
DISAPPOINTED BY MY PRESDIDENT, FORGETTING WHERE HE STARTED, AND THE
EXPERIMENTS, AND THINGS IF I GO ON ABOUT, I WOULD HAVE
THE FUCKING SECRET ASS SERVICE AT THE DOOR IN AN HOUR. I AM SO
SO HURT, SIR. I EXPECT THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOR FROM MY ROTTEN DAUGHTER,
BUT DID NOT FROM YOU, KIND SIR. BLESS YOU ANYWAY, SIR! BRUCE PENNOCK
SAID IT ALL, BACK EARLY IN THE SEVENTIES. NONE OF US ARE PERFECT,
MERE MORTALS AND HUMANS.
Then
comes the big problem. When I crashed last fucking night, I
was with the Almighty in many forms, and at the end,
after lots of enjoyable pleasurable interactions, she tells me she is
not going to keep leaving her great city, and that she is going to
stay there a lot more. Whatever the shit that is supposed to mean,
right my believers-Morians. Oh well, 'ours
is not to reason why, Sir Aristede
Shadows of 1897, but to do and die', right, co fellow
musician/writer of tunes, and Ode to the lovely Laura Parker, of the
non studio Parkers of Pedersenville. You can shove those big stupid
ass hats, PP, WHERE THE DAM ASS SUN DON'T SHINE, YO!!
MORIANITY
PART FIVE
CONTINUES
RIGHT ALONG, KIND LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.
Posting,
or trying to, at 9:11 PM, on this night of SUPER MOTHER
FUCKING BOTBAR TIMES THREE, AND SUPER HIGH
CALLIOTAMMIC ASSAULT SIEGE; and lots of pussy fucking action, will be
coming my way, when I am out on some local cunt chewing errands, the
next couple of days, and if I am messed with; I am holding the AG,
and the Florida State Police, and CJS responsible; for disbelieving
me, and not
caring enough to help look after a person, being cock sucking
viciously fucking ass persecuted, for 3 solid cunt
eating asshole decades now, or more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MY
''MPB'' IS NOT ACCEPTABLE, AND ALL OF THOSE RESPONSIBLE, WILL
PAY IN THEIR FUCKING BLOOD, I
PROMISE YOU TAHREN GANDI, AND OTHER
BOXERS, AND REALTORS,
AND WELL; WHATEVER, 'OLD SHIPYARD PAL' OF FUCKING CUNT EATING 1975,
WITH ALL THE DAM ASS RED MOTHER FUCKING LEAVES
ON THE FUCKING GROUND.
OK
believers, 1,2,3, possibly 4 of you, here is what is going on, and
you will definitely get a mind blow after you hear what I now tell
you. I swear it is the truth, and I also swear that it is over
simplified by a factor of about nine billion or so, otherwise, I
would be posting this up around the year of 2177 or so, and would
defeat the purpose, as lovely 'niece' DMK would say to me constantly,
back in 2008 and 2009. By the way, I never started that crap with
her, not about the school in Egg Harbor City, or me being her dam
uncle. They all knew about me, and all of this. I was the one who
knew jack about it all, back when I started to blog in 2006, and
2007. If anyone needs proof; you have a lot of reading material to
emmereffing cover.
First
off on this day's blog, for the past month now since the middle of
April, my Channel 12 TV News APP is hacked up,
and this is where you see the photos on my blogs at the Jupiter
Inlet, some miles to my south, unless I pretend it is 1975 again and
nobody had a million bugs all over the place. Then I could get there
in a few minutes, and not be discovered moving any diner rotisseries
or other such things as speaking to birds and animals, and being in a
wild eternal relationship with lovely ISIS, and a hell of a lot more.
They
totally have hacked into my system, as they all know what computers
we use. There is no way I can track the movement of the third part of
MIDISISCYLLA. It is all frozen and hacked, and shows lightning
positions that are no where even close to where she is in reality and
real time. Most of it shows the same old frozen spots. This is a
violation of course of my civil rights, but who can stop it, I am
being given the privilege of using these APP programs, and if I don't
like it, what am I going to do about it? Also, you want to know why
the DOW will be going up one to two hundred points every single week
this year, and endlessly from now on, as it really is not complex at
all? It is because unlike in times past, every possible person in
authority that could potentially help me, is all in the pockets
totally and 100% completely, of the powerful city of Washington,
DOC-13. Now why did New York City, and Washington, become the two
targets of 911? You may think this is so easy, without knowing a
tenth of the basic truth behind what all of this terrorism is really
all about, and how it all connects two times, once in 1967 AD, and
the other time around 3000 years before that one. Don't expect me to
start even going here on this blog, as I am not in any mother
trucking, hunt trapping, bunt tapping, rock chucking mood; folks,
sorry! Every single person on this planet is being stopped from
helping me in my fight against Apollo-Lucifer,
even the church themselves. The reasons cannot be explained. They go
beyond 1000 times wilder than all the stuff you ever saw on any of
the most far out television shows and movies and documentaries, any
and all of it; and that's a dam promise, believers. Dan Brown knew a
little bit about this, and was able to tell a little as well, but if
he had ever tried to tell the real stuff, people would be saying to
me after I mention his name, Dan Who? None of you have the smallest
dam clue about anything, and it makes me want to cry like a dam ass
baby for hours. I told you my rotten kid would beat me up when I fell
asleep, and she outdid my wildest worries and nightmare fantasies,
folks. She along with close cuzz Leticia T. and distant cuzz
Dawn-Marie K. all three let me have the most brutal attack I ever
experienced, right near the Walter Bar across from the Bellevue
Avenue Hammonton, New Jersey WAWA Convenience Store. I found myself
asleep and instantly awake in bright daylight, on the street right
near the bar there. I began to walk towards where they used to have
me kidnapped at Caruso's home at 831 13th Street, and before I got
thirty yards, Dawn grabbed my left shoulder very hard, swung me
around, and kicked me in the stomach so hard the wind went out of me
and I dropped to my knees. Instantly, Leticia clocked me with one of
her locally famous left hooks, in that part of Jersey; she is as
strong as my kid, and all of my front teeth were gone, boom, over.
Blood was pouring out of my mouth and I still was not able to
breathe. Then while this was fresh and up to the minute, my wonderful
Doogie Howser Lab-Technician daughter of 1984, grabbed me, picked me
up, and threw me over her head and out into the street and right in
front of a fairly fast moving sports car that was not yet slowing
down for the Route 54 stop sign ahead, and I plowed right inside
through this driver's windshield. He then stopped and took me and
threw me back onto the street and started kicking my ribs apart as I
dropped down, and cursed at me with language way beyond what I ever
heard in my entire life. Then my daughter threw a bucket of liquid
light all over me, and it blinded me, and began swirling into
hundreds of different shades of brilliant colors, and suddenly; I was
wet and then totally dry, and totally healed up. I jumped up and
thanked her, and she said to me, “The fun is only starting, real
bad boy”, and then she pushed me so hard I fell down backwards and
again, the three of them began pounding and pounding me. This went on
for what seemed like an hour, getting totally destroyed and then
rejuvenated with this magic light-liquid stuff, and then beat up to
hell all over again. Finally, they all laughed and walked away from
me as if nothing had happened. All three of them were wearing wild
logos on their dresses as well, you could not miss them, and in this
wild interaction, I could see real great without the aid or need of
any eyeglasses. The color was bright orange, and dead center in the
middle was an oval shape in jet black about an inch thick around,
with a diameter in the oval large part being about eight to ten
inches, stretching across and not going head to toe. Inside this
oval, in bright green bold lettering, it said, YBCO
SONG 301+. I have no idea what this is all about, and
have been scared to make a move all day until recently when I decided
to tell this on this blog. I woke up from this incredible experience
around half past eleven, in fact on the nose I believe. The really
strange part was that when I awoke, my vision was perfect for about
one or two minutes, and then it suddenly was back to the normal piss
poor vision that I actually have, but the clock to my right when I
awoke, was bright and clear; an analogue face displaying the large
hand at the 6, and the small hour hand dead in-between the eleven and
the twelve. It was 11:30 AM. Some force, on top of this, will not
allow me to monitor weather or other activities around the world with
the normal computer tools that I should have available with this
machine. Some powerful world owner and power, will not allow me to
try and end this world, the way I need to, to stop this eternal hell
for me in the only way I know how to. So Ron Wirtz Senior, if you're
still alive, Camden County New Jersey EX Prosecutor, kind-sir, I will
be taking my “AEB” very soon, to a deserted area spot placing it
on a rock surface, and slamming it as hard as I can with a Walmart
hammer. If I am lucky, this will all be over for ever and ever, as it
should have been that day at the Eden fence, when I interfered, and
begged ISIS not to end everything right then and there; and she told
me, and I quote, “Because you loved Diana, I will spare the world
for a while”. Well, you are Diana, and there is no such thing as
time or tents, so my error caused all this, and I will fix it in the
only way that I know how. None of you will even feel a thing once
this is done, boom, over forever, and done! I HAVE HAD ALL I CAN
STAND, POPE-YES, ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh, and Keisha Crunch-99! This
is where it is going to stop, my BROTHER!
I
may not be the swiftest greatest sock in the drawer, Lenny Briscoe
sir, colored mine, impressed, or whatever Robert Andrews Sir and old
1975 pal; but I will say this dam much, believers. I should have
known not to make that ten grand bet about my 1986 song, back in
twenty-ten. I feel this is the last straw that brought TAWF to the
point of killing me at all costs, so I will beat them and everyone
else to the great and mighty punch, oh lovely Keisha Disney Loca!
WOW, I still have a huge place where you can see where this young
teen girl totally broke and destroyed my right arm in the days of my
great pal, PRINCE KEM. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
I
NEED YOUR HELP, MIZZ A.G., BIG TIME!!!
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, I am quite sure that you know what I mean.
That
was what it was before the WORST MOTHER FUCKING DAY OF 2013 CAME IN,
FRIDAY, it is now Saturday Morning at 25 minutes past mother fucking
midnight, electrical number three cubed, (27) April, 2013. Yesterday
was a major super fucking BOTBAR
DAY. Folks, I have a hell of a monster fucking
story to impart to you all today, and if you're not in the mood for a
really major talk with the Mountainpen here, move it over to the
''NEXT-BLOG'', I strongly urge you, but staying here will result in
some pillow talking from DAD, and many other things. They were
warned, and they did not care or they called my fucking bluff, or
'whatever', Congressman, but that old saying of Dawn-Marie King is
quite fitting here good peeps, “It is what it is”, and again, it
appears to be quite magically buried or cosmically perhaps, as this
contains the built in Goddess of Babylon, both and either one of
them, now or back then; my lovely wonderful and beautiful, who else;
ISIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
***MORIANITY
PART FIVE***
A
child knows that a lot of stuff can be learned by visiting my Youtube
site, that will NOT be gone forever
very shortly. Not after that threat I took over at the
FORT PIERCE WEST LIBRARY, SOME DAYS AGO, BRO, YO!
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**
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My blogs
About me
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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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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.
I
DEMAND MY FUCKING PROPS.
55555555
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