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MORIANITY
PART FIVE, CHAPTER 00081
I'M
FEELING WHAT, YO? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND??
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THIS
IS MORIANITY,
PART FIVE. PLEASE
HAVE A
VERY NICE
DAY.
CHAPTER
00085,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
I CANNOT, SINCE I AM FUCKING SUPER
BOTBAR NOW, SIX FOR EIGHT; WITH THIS
OFF THE FUCKING SCALE ATTACK, THAT
BEGAN ON MAY THE FOURTEENTH,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*TUESDAY,
MAY 21, 2013 @ 10:42 PM-EDST*
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION.
I
am now at 43% MPB, and my life will be over fucking shortly. I tried
to 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 PRICES, 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; they 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 me Tuesday show of “L&O-SVU,
and as I said, THE MARKET WILL FLY TOMORROW, AND AS I SAID THIS
YESTRERDAY, AND IT OF COURSE FUCKING DID SO, I NOW PROCLAIM THIS ALL
OVER AGAIN, ONLY IT WILL BE A MUCH HUGE 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 1996, 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 TOBE 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 and 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 FUCKINBG 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 like it was happening yesterday, “Because of Z-D-T”, you
shouted at me at 199+DB, Uncle
Dave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Move over, all dam
light-switches from 1983, WEEEEEEEEEEEE! W—O—W!
MAGNESONIC,
MMMMMMMMMMM, OPEN COMMAND, FULL MAXED OUT POWER, ALL ORDERS, ALL
TECHNOLOGIES. THIS WILL BE A PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM ON AN 'I'
TO 'D', A/B TONE, COMMAND. G-901 UNDER CG-18, AND
S-----T-----O-----P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU WILL BE SO MOTHER FUCKING CUNT EATING SORRY FO RTYHIS ASSAULT ON
ME, YOU COCK SUCKING TRASH, THERE ARE NO HUMAN WORDS TO DESCRIBE IT,
YO YO YO YO YO YO.
MORIANITY
PART V continues:
Two
in the morning, 21 May in twenty-thirteen:
Tuesday,
here in Fort Pierce, Florida, on another really nasty mother fucking
SUPER ASS
BOTBAR!
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Magnesonic,
restart another 100-HOUR THERMO-NUCLEAR DESTRUCT EARTH COUNTDOWN
SEQUENCING SYSTEM AT EXACTLY ONE MINUTE AFTER THIS BLOG POSTS AT
BLOGGER, UNDER OPEN COMMAND OF G-7, UNDER G-901.
END
TRANSMISSION:
**MORIANITY
PART FIVE**
THIS
IS MORIANITY,
PART FIVE. PLEASE
HAVE A VERY
NICE DAY.
CHAPTER
00085, 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)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Market Summary of MAY 17, CLOSE, 2013:
Select a portfolio----AND ADD 200+ MORE!
Dow
Dow Jones Industrials.
15,354.40
-------------------- I
TOLD YOU, I
TOLD YOU,
I
TOLD YOU,
FOLKS!!!!
+121.18 +0.80%
S&P 500
S&P 500
1,667.47
+17.00 +1.03%
NASDAQ
NASDAQ Composite
3,498.97
+33.72 +0.97%
FTSE 100
FTSE 100
6,723.06
+35.26 +0.53%
Quotes are Real Time from Nasdaq Last Sale when available, or delayed from primary listing source. Currency in USD.
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.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
G-901
and STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU
WILL BE SO FUCKING SORRY, WORDS AIN'T THERE TO FUCKING TELL IT,
BRAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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**
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile
views - 2779
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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
HELP ME PEE, YOU WILL BE OUT OF HERE BY THE END OF MARCH, and now it is 22 MAY.
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WHASUP
VIQUEEN MARILOO?
WHASUP
STOCK BROKER GORDO?
WWYWINY,
MALCALM ROSENBERG OF PHILLY, PA?
Well,
yesterday was another thing that never got mentioned. It was my PCNLD
or (Private Cosmicoded Number Lottery Day). This is twice that the
Florida 3-Pick Lottery, matched my PCN of
'871', and I thought for sure by now that CUZZ DON's
number would pop in, also Frank Callio's, also MC's, after-all, there
are only 81 PCN's folks, and nearly four million peeps in America
have each one of them, simple math folks, 81 times four-mill is equal
to the rough guess US Census counted population in the 2010 count,
WHAAAA! Well without any weed sucking, or changing places, or role
reversals, or audience competing; let me move this along and quit
with the dam tangents already, yikes, YO! Now do you see why my kid
scares me to death, Pam? I know what she is capable of, and I am just
trying now to appease her wrath until my 18 and out. I see this human
life of mine as none other than a total fucking prison sentence, and
make no bones about it, nor do I act shy about printing it up
publicly, Mister Graham, 'TEE HEE HEE', oh Lilly. Where Are You When
I Need You, ED, not you, Mister Himacane Lynch?
Oh
yes, WAYWINY, and then in past tents, it would become, where were you
when I needed you, right Sam Walton, another December 7, 1941 day for
me, President Roosevelt. These initials change into WWYWINY, and need
and needed both start with the 'N' word, no, not that ugly other 'N'
word. You have no idea what fight I would have put up for custody of
you, MI, if I had known, but two moms conspiring against it, forget
it. Where was all your role reversal stuff when it might have done
the most good, I could ask you, oh great Sarah-Stacey Krassle, my
endless wonderful Goddess?
Well,
it is now in the eighties officially, at 2:09, according to the
channel-12 app on my computer. At least it is nothing like the past
couple of years where by the end of April it was either high eighties
or into the nineties by 12-3 in the afternoon, every dam day. Folks
forget stuff, I do not know how they live so controlled and so
totally ETOSS-HACKED. When I get the occasional hit by these pricks,
I remember those times and can count them on both my hands and that
is it, and it is always something that pertains to my great swimmer
daughter. I still was scared she was going to drown, but learned some
really powerful lessons in the process, me that is, not her. She is
all mighty, and needs not learn anything, other than my brain is a
worthless pile of junk circuits, confusing the address of the
Philadelphia Zoo, with where the great Manhattan ES Building is. It
is on 34th Street, but not Poplar. What's happening to my
nutty mind, Mayor Nutter, and little girl on the TV ad, WHAAAAA? No
one knows how real it is to be ETTOS attacked by this powerful
family. The day McGuire leaves us all in peace, I will be out surf
and turfing, if I have to borrow the money from the dam mob. That's a
promise, lovely Re-max Mo, and WOMO as well, Karen Simons. Thanks,
traitor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. No, I won't brand you, for
old times sake. Laugh time, McNulty!
The
last really bad 4 days went as follows on my systems-roulette by the
way, good folks. Yesterday I made 7 units. The three other recent bad
days were plus 4, plus 1, and plus 5 and a half, TEE HEE HEE, MZ.
MUNSTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Try not to hate your old pal too much,
Congressman Andrews, and remember the good times YO, in 1975, even
the time you refused to give me a lift home that evening after 9 P,
down at Pileggi's basement, or 'whatever'. You had the coolest
stereo, and the coolest girl, Angel. Was she perfect or more like my
daughter?
Hay
Gawky Gaukauk, here kitty, why has the fucking dick licking
persecution over the past ten days or so gotten so bad again with my
across the fucking hallway nabes, YO YO YO??????????????????????????
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW,
SHARKEY MARKEY, PCN-682.
TALL
GIRL ATTACK ON ATLANTIC CITY BEACH----PROJECT
BLUEBOOK----CANCER----QUEENS----MOVING----THE MORNING
LIGHT----BEAVER----PANASONIC OPEN REEL MASTERING
MACHINE----TWENTY------------------------------
HAY
GAWKY GAUKAUK, HERE KITTY, ALL THREE TIMES IN MY LIFE, IN 1977, 1983,
AND 1986, WHEN I TRIED TO MAKE A LITTLE MORE MONEY THAN IN OTHER
TIMES EVER IN MY LIFE, AND SUCCEEDED, I WAS ASSAULTED TWICE
PHYSICALLY TO THE NEAR POINT OF DEATH, AND THE FINAL TIME, THE DEATH
OF MY ENTIRE LIFE RESULTED AND HAS BEEN THE CASE EVER FUCKING SINCE
THAT TIME IN 1986?
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW,
SHARKEY MARKEY, PCN-853.
1954----36th
avenue----stingray-------------
LIKE
FUCKING W----O----W!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Holy Hannah-88, can I please be forgiven for my last fucking lifetime
folks? Thank fucking you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where is
Herbert Huntington, Ancestry dot com, crissake YO? Please do not
darken my shadowy dark doorstep ever again; and no more hunting
trips for your dam son, and his pal McGee's pop.
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!!!!! Double-triple
fucking WOW, YO.
As
always, we could dance all night, and I could talk all day, but no
new fucking songs pweeeeeeeze. The current one has me in enough hot
water to put the water-heater peeps permanently out of fucking ass
business, YO County Jail caller. Yes MC, I did re-listen, before your
5th
cuzz 3 times removed, stole the CD, and all your stuff from my
bedroom. I know the horrible stuff you were letting me see, and
thanks for not offing me. I make you the very same promise now, I
made to Sarah Callio, your 4th-7TR. I will as of this blog, leave you
entirely out of this. I always loved that wild show with the two
continuum's, and how the dude killed himself. That was talent, girl.
Well, I'll keep my promise to you. Also, in return, you keep the
chain, and no more dreams; not ever, do we have a deal oh great Sarah
Krassle??????????????? Only we know what's getting said here, the old
shark knows what you tried to tell me. I always loved those kind of
sci-fi shows, only this time it's my real life, and that really
sucks.
You
enjoy your great VR-GAME, it belongs to you, and I had no
right to ever try and expose its truths, or yours; just don't make me
swim down to the weeds forever, please, my great GODDESS QUEEN, thank
you. Ask your CUZZ SARAH if I kept my promise, other than for
the one quick time, when I just wanted to show the great
artist Billy Harner, her water company.
555555555555555555555555555
COPYRIGHT
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2012, REWRITE FROM 1983, ALSO COPYRIGHTED UNDER TITLE
THEN, “GIRL, I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING”, & NOW UNDER REWRITE
TITLE OF
“YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER”
VERSE
ONE
I'm
so very happy for you, pales of fish so fresh and new
Let
me ask you really nicely, could you spare us just a few
Oh
my wife and kids are starving, could you help us make a stew
We're
down and out, and we will even go to work for you
You
seem to have about a dozen giant pales or two
I
am so weak and faint and do not wanna' be so blue
While
we slept inside the dunes, somebody stole my shoe
Oh
please kind sir, just take some pity, let us work for you
We'll
help in any way we can, and be your loyal crew
But
greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
And
I'm not giving any freaking fish away
VERSE
TWO
So
when you add your salty tears directly in the sea
And
when you're done your song of woe, that you have sung to me
Just
take your wife and kids, and jump right off this big jetty
And
right into the undertow, and stop annoying me
And
talking on and on and on, and bothering my fish
You
loud annoying bleeding hearts, that beg and cry and bitch
I
have lots of work to do, and buckets must be filled
So
either leave this jetty now, or someone might be killed
Guys
like me must catch our fish, like farmers fields get tilled
People
say I'm cold and cruel, on every single day
But
I have got a lot of freaking bills to pay
So
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
THREE
They
say the greatest mother lies there out beyond the sand
And
mothers can get angry when their kids are out of hand
Storms
blow out of nowhere and, a lot of folks have died
The
sea can give and take away, while many tears get cried
And
on one very special day, a greedy man was drowned
Ignoring
waves that swallowed rocks with heavy pounding sound
Just
another bucket and, then he'll have caught his fill
A
lot of daring fishermen forget the sea can kill
The
king fish of the jetty, just was never seen again
Yet
locals claim the winds still howl these words from fisher Ben
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
So
yes I have a lot of freaking bills to pay
And
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
FOUR
You'll
be crossing over, later wishing you'd been nicer
You'll
be crossing over, through the quantum waving splicer
You'll
be crossing over, hearing all the trash they're talking
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll have to keep on walking
You'll
be crossing over, watching all the others eating
Feasts
with banquet tables, where the fish keep on repeating
Forever
seeing many fish, but never on your plate
You
had your time back in the sun before you sealed your fate
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll be a lonesome rover
Forever
doomed to hear the words you always used to say
That
you've been working hard out in the sun all day
Oh
yes we knew you had your freaking bills to pay
So
you're not giving any of your fish away
END
OF SONG.
YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983
NEW
2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC TRACK ALONG WITH ARE UP AT
THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, LIKE DUH:
Only
the opening title words are real.
To
sing along with the new 2012 lyrics, go to my blog and click the SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, and scroll down
until the page comes up with the words to the song, YO. If you do not
like techno-pop music of the early and middle
nineteen-eighties, there are other songs at the same site,
http://youtube/paulaking2011/
so go there and have a blast.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Without
clicking, yesterdays can just be scroll viewed!
Folks,
I have no time to tell you the whole thing, it would take a hundred
mother fucking years, and when all is said and done and your great
grand kids finish reading it, they and you, won't give a hoot pollute
blasted dam anyway, who's kidding who? Still, I will say a few quick
things, and no force on this Earth is going to fucking stop me from
that.
First,
a few hours ago, I was cooking a fucking steak and spaghetti meal in
my kitchen, when the IF scumbags thought pulling a cute little
Leprechaun prank on me would be nice and Roseann Delaney fucking
funny, the mother fucking rotten
bastards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A
small roach appeared near an opened can of spaghetti sauce. This was
simply to get me to reach over to kill this menacing germy little
shit, forgetting about the can with a half opened up lid; and
'shazam', Gomer Pyle USMC, and 'goollllleeey', Sargent fucking cunt
Carter, Mary Paints McVeigh; if I did not practically take my cunt
eating left index finger right off. Go away, Roseann Tressa
Backtowork Minicoffin Nightmares! But those that know about the
American Appliances Refrigerators back when this entire August 15,
1986 thing all got started, also know that I cut all of my toes off
at Mars graphics Printing Shop in 1977, and in two months, they all
grew back. I thought all toes grew back, and was told later by some
dick head, it was a miracle and I should tell the Vatican. Bullshit
on the Vatican, enough fucking cock suckers are watching me like
hawks and buzzards, huh Apollo-Lucifer and lovely sister D?
What
some may wish to be made aware of who read Morianity, is
thisssssssssss, Miss Erica Lucci snakes of 1983,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!! If you were the only one alive on
this Earth, pretend you are lost and leaving endless bread crumbs
behind you, only instead of breadcrumbs, it is an endless ball of
thin colorful twine. Now as time passes, and you move all around, in
and out of buildings and homes and down streets and into all kinds of
places, this past record will follow behind you. Now bringing the
cold reality back, we are not alone, and so our fellow creatures also
do this very same thing, and also are leaving this endless twine
string behind them no matter where they go, and when, forever and
always. Now instead of 20 or so basic prime and second colors,
pretend we have sight capable of focusing at solar surface
brilliance, so billions of separate coloring shades would now be
possible. Each one would have their own unique color. Now imagine the
interaction of all of us, not us, but this twine after a week, after
a month, a year, 5, 10, and so on. Now take shit one more step still
good folks. Remove the US, just see this endless intertwining weaving
cosmic interaction. Now, you are ready to be told, that this is what
produces a force called the IF, and NOT the fucking other way around,
ladies and gentlemen, and whoever else is out here, so say it, YO;
WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So where are my trucks, TD?
It
is 4:40 AM-EDST, 25 April, 2013, on Thursday morning.
Now
the rest of the topic for this blog is about the invention of these
early eighties personal computers, AKA PC's. First, this jerk fucking
off nabe across the cunt eating hallway from me IS PART OF THIS
BUILDING CONSPIRACY WITH THE COMPUTER DELL GUY, and is why I was
unable to secure any help from him, other than to get a mind blowing
course one night from him about the real WOMO (World-Owners) and that
would be none other than MICROSOFT CORPORATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All
others follow in close seconds or thirds, obediently wagging their
tails behind them; and keeping their heads down, and their yes sir
yelps endlessly strong, loud, and coming. Continue please, you are
reading the section in Morianity for Millennium 3, Chapter #5.
Let
us talk about these PC's, and how this all fits and connects with me,
while bearing in mind the entire time, the little lesson in weaving
and looms and our great great grandma's sowing habits, brought into
the real next generation. First off, without even touching anything
around this little quick next few sentences, let me just say the shit
I feel compelled to say, and get it the fuck out of the way and over
with, YO!
If
I could wake up by some Irish Leprechaun Magic, (ILM) can be used
after this point as a short abbreviation for this three word phrase;
and be a total computer geek black hat cracker hacker, or on that
level without doing anything illegal or immoral, with what I need in
my personal life situation, don't be shy along with me world, as you
know I would use this to my advantage, keeping it as legal and moral
as is humanly possible, but when the road gets real tough here and
there, with all the chips down underneath the surface of the gaming
table, and the skies are all gray and bleak and black and dark; well,
let us not get silly here, or try and fool ourselves. I would use
this and I would make the MILITUFORCE
really PAY for what has been done to me,
and would still quite naturally, be being done to me at any so-called
point of future STM. So the quintessential DUH is of course THEY are
not going to make it real ass super easy for me to reach that
computer savvy stage and point. It really again, as the great Toronto
Bank of WOW says on their really cool TV ad spots, “It isn't rocket
science”, and I'll gladly throw in here, “We do not need your
services, Subaru Vonbrahn. I have tried to spell this dude's name 10
ways back from Sunday, and as usual, MSC is no help at all! Any
celebrated last name spelled as it is sounded out, should be
recognized with groups of words with one being the correct spelling.
Yes, gear shift, no grind, these scum over there have been in and out
all night, 1,2,3,4,5 in the morning, even now at nearly fucking half
past, and Friday, I am telling Debbie that I will write a letter to
whoever runs this building, as this is fucking bullshit, not
'cigarette butt bullcarp'. Yes it is amazing how very inexpensive
items can serve as a spy stethoscope, placed on my door, and listened
to through my headphones on my bed any time I wish. I am a very
paranoid person, it is only a matter of time before I will know a lot
more. The entire put together item cost me under 15 bucks, and is a
great investment, as I need to know what goes on with ENEMIES. If
folks would not harass and persecute me, I would never think of doing
things like fucking this. I had to take a break, and go on, what
David Roth used to call, late in the nineteen-eighties; a 'Crampana
Shit Attack', only his main one that I'll always clearly remember, he
also called the Dark Shitholes Attack, as he actually had the balls
after being hit with a WOMO death beam at the Westmont, New Jersey
High Speed-Line Train Station; to use the back yard woods, behind
Roseann Delaney's home, in Haddonfield, New Jersey; to keep from
browning out in his Bermuda shorts; TEE HEE HEE, Lilly M. Things like
this do not happen with consistency and regularity to normal average
healthy grown men, such as myself and David. So what else can the
explanation be? I am surely not making up this story. Would I be
proud to say I am always getting horrible fucking shit attacks, and
not always properly making it to a facility, over the past 27 fucking
cunt years? Give me a break, Margie Leo, 4 freaking crissake. Let us
return now to the original topic of the personal computer and me, and
our twining interaction. If I could do all the things I'd like to be
able to do with them, my enemies would be in very serious trouble,
until they came over covertly and stealthfully, and did a Marie Fahey
on me, in the name of domestic enemy terror, and the Patriot Act; or
some other total nonsense mother fucking garbage that if you added
three dollars to, would get you a dozen shinny quarters; and that's
all it would get you, YO!!!!!! If this was a fair world, I could sue
the fucking FBI for breaking intentionally, all of my legally paid
for and totally owned, electronic equipment, back early in this
century, while I lived at the Mullica Mobile Manor, just east of
fucking cock sucking Hammonton, Blu-Berryville, in New Green-Garden
State Jersey, let me get off this blog beach for now, GOV, and return
to the topic of PC's and me!!!!!!!!!!!! No, they don't show this
dirty part of the FISA shit, on the great L&O TV show, but in
real-life, they break your stuff, after all; what the fuck can you do
about it, complain; and almost get locked up, by the fucking
worthless Mullica Township Cops, back that day? Whaju say Dawn and
Dad, SHEEEEEEEEEIT!
Now
these fucking miserable jerk off nabes of mine, come into their unit
after visiting with this asshole on my floor with the computer, who
knocked on my door that day on 12/18/2012, when I had Dennis Chase
over here from the local Publix, posting my 'YBCO' harmony track
tune, to my Youtube account, at http://youtube/paulaking2011/
BRO!
I
know they all are friends, and constantly visit with each other, and
conspire to fuck with me, both with my not getting any computer help,
remember the story the resident manager of my building told me about
Tom being bored with nothing to do, only he tells me that he's too
fucking busy to aid me with my PC? Oh yeah, right, sure, shore, most
definitely makes total sense, and it does, and I am not being fucking
facetious, as it makes complete 100% sense. It is a plot to keep me
fucked, fucked, fucked, and FUCKED!!!!!!!! Those that won't see my
story is all real and true, SIMPLY DO NOT WANT IT TO BE TRUE. AFTER
ALL, IT MIGHT JUST TOUCH THEM, OR SOMEBODY WHO THEY LOVE, IF IT IS
TRUE; and that is not within their mother
fucking comfy cozy zones, but is totally within the zone of
the GWPOS, or Giant Williamstown Police Officer Syndrome, that I have
told over and over about an incident that happened in the middle
fucking nineties. WHAAAAAAA-AHA-AHA-AHA, MMCN!
Folks,
I went on a real roll for two fire alarms every day, along with the
nabes back on a roll, simultaneously, and one time was definitely set
off by them, as they were talking to the FD and saying, as I told all
ready on a prior blog, This is bull crap, it is just smoldering
cigarette butts. I merely spelled all of the words correctly on this
dam blog, BRAH!
The
first two thirds of the year of 2008, in its own way was bigger than
the same time period in 1986, 22 years earlier. Studying my blogs or
archiving them at the website at BLOGGER, using this address:
http://drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
or http://theansweristheqyuestion.blogspot.com/
will
reveal powerful beyond wild and unfathomable shit. You can see how
the entire MENTALIST show was created from this blog, you can see
Jason Forrest's comment, accidentally posted in haste I suppose, on
my blog by him, saying how this blog, meaning MY BLOG, is where he
made a lot of money in Cali, to quote him exactly, and so much more.
The real power is two things this time, unlike in 1986. first, all of
the 1986 records are conveniently lost now, thanks to a wonderful
star family, and second, this is more of a recent group of events.
All of my original life journal on cassette tape is gone forever,
unlike my blogs posted at BLOGGER, as well as other websites for
bloggers, during these incredible times of cosmic proportions. Also,
unlike the first time, I know so much more than I did back then, more
things, more players in the cosmic colorful weaving system, and more
aware living witnesses to force in court if ever taken that far, that
will either tell some powerful truths under fucking ass oath, or
commit perjury to keep many gargantuan secrets. Just yesterday, as it
is now 5:55 AM-EDST, a very beautiful two minute period each and
every 24 hour cycle or 'day', on this April 25, 2013; I was playing
around with the WORDPRESS BLOGGING SITE. For no reason about two
months or so ago, give or take a month, one day, I went to paste in
my blogs typed from my word office 3.1 system, and unlike before,
both Wordpress and Blogger sites, no longer pasted it in, as it
appeared on the office document, on my PC. However, the BLOGGER
software, compensates somehow, and places the format back into the
way I had it on my own PC Office System Program, or 3.1 Open Office.
I keep hoping for WORDPRESS to install the similar software, but I
have come to see their game. I think if I am willing to pony up a
nominal 25 dollar fee each year, not bad at all; they will give me a
real domain, so I plan to do this; as long as I can post up my songs,
my blogs, my photographs, and stuff the way I do at the Blogger site,
and have it all work; links, all of it. If this was $25 per month, I
could not afford it, but 2 dollars and change, per month is
reasonable enough for me to say yes, and agree to this 'dot me'
thing. Hay, like the fucking lady at 1101 Robin Hill Apartments, when
I was next door to her, in late 1983, and into 1984; at 1102
Apartment number; said to me through the door that afternoon early in
1984, “It's ME”, and later on, I had a powerful dream where she
forced me onto the roof of the building, and gave me excruciating
pain by some magical power, that blows me away every time to this
day, that I so much as remember that 'dream' for even a tiny little
fucking second. In the dream she again reiterated only slightly
varying her words spoken through my door in waking life or in this
universe; I AM A 'ME', and this wild shit was all written down in my
'so-called' fictional 1994 book, copyrighted in WASH-DOC-600-13,
called, “The Permission Barrier”. In waking life she said
something equally awesome and outlandish to me through my dam door.
She said I need to know something, and that if I do not open the
door, and let her come in and tell me; I will regret it for the rest
of my life. Is anyone reading this, seeing this word yet, 'WOW'?
A
very beautiful full moon is shinning out there above me, 99% full and
still waxing, becoming full at around noon today. I LOVE YOU
BEAUTIFUL LUNA, MY SPECIAL BABY BLOND, AND MY WONDERFUL AND AWSOME
LIGHTNING GODDESS DIANA ARTEEMIS, AND
I'LL NEVER EVER LET YOU GO, NOT FOREVER AND FOREVER AND FOREVER, MY
ENDLESS LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 657 and 123, but does that
equal 1984 or 1983, or even the mighty all seeing Mister fiction book
author Orwell???????????????? Where does 'megawater' fit into this,
and for that matter the great 'SUNRAM'? This is what all came
flooding back to me, in early 1996, under intense psycho-therapy
hypnotism; at the Wolf Clinic, on Main Street, in Moorestown, NJ,
right next to REMOMAX. Wow, Mike Sotas. Bad news, you're no
competition with Super-Girl Keisha. So bring those fire engines
roaring, OTAMM-MILI-2-FORCE, WEEEEEEEEEEE.
Still with all of this said, the entire interaction of all of the
twine all over the world, creates the IF (Interaction Force), and
within that force, is the very gun powder that is needed to work the
magic of what I have spoken rarely about over nearly seven and a half
years of my blogging now, “REALITY-THREE”. We will get real deep
into Reality-3, very very soon.
Diana,
I saw your wonderful moon on the Jupiter Cam, all orange and lovely
and creamy-dreamy, my endless love. I am your little boy forever and
ever, baby-blond; and will be with you very soon, lovely one. IWALU,
BB (baby-blond)!!!!!!!!!!!!
December 12, 2006
More Crackpots- Meet Mark from NJ (MP3)
This is merely a harmony track. I am
trying to make a video and post the entire song, YOU'LL BE CROSSING
OVER, MARK WAYNE MOHR, FULL COPYRIGHT AND OWNERSHIP OF SONG. Now at
the risk of getting crucified, pigeonholed, or persecuted, read on,
my wonderful great Morians.
At
the risk of being pigeonholed as the Girl
Who Writes About Crazy Cursing Dudes, I bring you Mark from New
Jersey. Mark has far-ranging theories on time travel,
Armageddon, roulette and Donna Summer (the DEVIL!), which he angrily
discusses in various telephone conversations.
Station
Manager Ken clued me in to this fella recently. He was
given a CD called "The Meaning of Life." The back
copy states that it was made from a cassette found on the side of the
road bearing the same title. He's really difficult to listen
to, for a couple of reasons- The recordings only capture Mark's side
of the conversation and they seem to have been recorded either by a
microphone placed somewhere in the room or possibly while Mark was
standing outside on a windy day. More importantly, he is
insane. Completely, violently insane.
Mark claims to be both a time traveler
and a descendant of King David. His family will bring about the
apocalypse through the activation of the Christ Android, currently
dormant inside the 12 Planet. And also that the 50
richest families in the world are trying to do him in.
Covertly, of course. Also against him is Donna Summer,
the Devil. (Whether he means the disco Donna Summer, or WFMU's
own Jason Forrest isn't clear.)
Here then, are three selections from
Mark's version of reality:
If
you need more Mark from NJ, Aquarius
Records would be happy to sell you a cd-r.
Now,
if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go cover my windows with aluminum
foil.
As
Bob Chabot said in 1981,
is there any excuse 4U? Signed, da' Mountainpen.
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ISIS
UNVEILED: A
MASTER-KEY TO THE MYSTERIES OF ANCIENT AND MODERN SCIENCE AND
THEOLOGY. BY H. P. BLAVATSKY. CORRESPONDING …
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ISIS UNVEILED:
A Master-Key to the Mysteries of Ancient and Modern Science and Theology
By H. P. Blavatsky
Blavatsky's
first major work on theosophy, examining religion and science in the
light of Western and Oriental ancient wisdom and occult and
spiritualistic phenomena.
Theosophical
University Press Online Edition (print version also available).
Electronic version ISBN 1-55700-135-9. This edition may be downloaded
for off-line viewing without charge. Because of current limitations
in ASCII character fonts, and for ease of searching, no diacritical
marks appear in the electronic version of the text.
CONTENTS
VOLUME 1
PREFACE
(pages v - viii)
BEFORE
THE VEIL (pages ix - xlv)
Dogmatic assumptions of modern science and theology / The Platonic philosophy affords the only middle ground / Review of the ancient philosophical systems / A Syriac manuscript on Simon Magus / Glossary of terms used in this book
---------------------
Volume First: THE "INFALLIBILITY" OF MODERN SCIENCE.
CHAPTER 1: OLD THINGS WITH NEW NAMES (pages 1 - 38)
The Oriental Kabala / Ancient traditions supported by modern research / The progress of mankind marked by cycles / Ancient cryptic science / Priceless value of the Vedas / Mutilations of the Jewish sacred books in translation / Magic always regarded as a divine science / Achievements of its adepts and hypotheses of their modern detractors / Man's yearning for immortality
CHAPTER 2: PHENOMENA AND FORCES (pages 39 - 73)
The servility of society / Prejudice and bigotry of men of science / They are chased by psychical phenomena / Lost arts / The human will the master-force of forces / Superficial generalizations of the French savants / Mediumistic phenomena, to what attributable / Their relation to crime
CHAPTER 3: BLIND LEADERS OF THE BLIND (pages 74 - 99)
Huxley's derivation from the Orohippus / Comte, his system and disciples / The London materialists / Borrowed robes / Emanation of the objective universe from the subjective
CHAPTER 4: THEORIES RESPECTING PSYCHIC PHENOMENA (pages 100 - 125)
Theory of de Gasparin / [[Theory]] of Thury / [[Theory]] of des Mousseaux, de Mirville / [[Theory]] of Babinet / [[Theory]] of Houdin / [[Theory]] of MM. Royer and Jobart de Lamballe / The twins — "unconscious cerebration" and "unconscious ventriloquism" / Theory of Crookes / [[Theory]] of Faraday / [[Theory]] of Chevreuil / The Mendeleyeff commission of 1876 / Soul blindness
CHAPTER 5: THE ETHER, OR "ASTRAL LIGHT" (pages 126 - 162)
One primal force, but many correlations / Tyndall narrowly escapes a great discovery / The impossibility of miracle / Nature of the primordial substance / Interpretation of certain ancient myths / Experiments of the fakirs / Evolution in Hindu allegory
CHAPTER 6: PSYCHO-PHYSICAL PHENOMENA (pages 163 - 205)
The debt we owe to Paracelsus / Mesmerism — its parentage, reception, potentiality / "Psychometry" / Time, space, eternity / Transfer of energy from the visible to the invisible universe / The Crookes experiments and Cox theory
CHAPTER 7: THE ELEMENTS, ELEMENTALS, AND ELEMENTARIES (pages 206 - 252)
Attraction and repulsion universal in all the kingdoms of nature / Psychical phenomena depend on physical surroundings / Observations in Siam / Music in nervous disorders / The "world-soul" and its potentialities / Healing by touch, and healers / "Diakka" and Porphyry's bad demons / The quenchless lamp / Modern ignorance of vital force / Antiquity of the theory of force-correlation / Universality of belief in magic
CHAPTER 8: SOME MYSTERIES OF NATURE (pages 253 - 292)
Do the planets affect human destiny? / Very curious passage from Hermes / The restlessness of matter / Prophecy of Nostradamus fulfilled / Sympathies between planets and plants / Hindu knowledge of the properties of colors / "Coincidences" the panacea of modern science / The moon and the tides / Epidemic mental and moral disorders / The gods of the Pantheons only natural forces / Proofs of the magical powers of Pythagoras / The viewless races of ethereal space / The "four truths" of Buddhism
CHAPTER 9: CYCLIC PHENOMENA (pages 293 - 337)
Meaning of the expression "coats of skin" / Natural selection and its results / The Egyptian "circle of necessity" / Pre-Adamite races / Descent of spirit into matter / The triune nature of man / The lowest creatures in the scale of being / Elementals specifically described / Proclus on the beings of the air / Various names for elementals / Swedenborgian views on soul-death / Earth-bound human souls / Impure mediums and their "guides" / Psychometry an aid to scientific research
CHAPTER 10: THE INNER AND OUTER MAN (pages 338 - 378)
Pere Felix arraigns the scientists / The "Unknowable" / Danger of evocations by tyros / Lares and Lemures / Secrets of Hindu temples / Reincarnation / Witchcraft and witches/ The sacred soma trance / Vulnerability of certain "shadows" / Experiment of Clearchus on a sleeping boy / The author witnesses a trial of magic in India / Case of the Cevennois
CHAPTER 11: PSYCHOLOGICAL AND PHYSICAL MARVELS (pages 379 - 416)
Invulnerability attainable by man / Projecting the force of the will / Insensibility to snake-poison / Charming serpents by music / Teratological phenomena discussed / The psychological domain confessedly unexplored / Despairing regrets of Berzelius / Turning a river into blood a vegetable phenomenon
CHAPTER 12: THE "IMPASSABLE CHASM" (pages 417 - 461)
Confessions of ignorance by men of science / The Pantheon of nihilism / Triple composition of fire / Instinct and reason defined / Philosophy of the Hindu Jains/ Deliberate misrepresentations of Lempriere / Man's astral soul not immortal / The reincarnation of Buddha / Magical sun and moon pictures of Thibet / Vampirism — its phenomena explained / Bengalese jugglery
CHAPTER 13: REALITIES AND ILLUSION (pages 462 - 514)
The rationale of talismans / Unexplained mysteries / Magical experiment in Bengal / Chibh Chondor's surprising feats / The Indian tape-climbing trick an illusion / Resuscitation of buried fakirs / Limits of suspended animation / Mediumship totally antagonistic to adeptship / What are "materialized spirits"? / The Shudala Madan / Philosophy of levitation / The elixir and alkahest
CHAPTER 14: EGYPTIAN WISDOM (pages 515 - 574)
Origin of the Egyptians / Their mighty engineering works / The ancient land of the Pharaohs / Antiquity of the Nilotic monuments / Arts of war and peace / Mexican myths and ruins / Resemblances to the Egyptian / Moses a priest of Osiris / The lessons taught by the ruins of Siam / The Egyptian Tau at Palenque
CHAPTER 15: INDIA THE CRADLE OF THE RACE (575 - 628)
Acquisition of the "secret doctrine" / Two relics owned by a Pali scholar / Jealous exclusiveness of the Hindus / Lydia Maria Child on Phallic symbolism / The age of the Vedas and Manu / Traditions of pre-diluvian races / Atlantis and its peoples / Peruvian relics / The Gobi desert and its secrets / Thibetan and Chinese legends / The magician aids, not impedes, nature / Philosophy, religion, arts and sciences bequeathed by Mother India to posterity
-----------------------------------------
VOLUME 2
TITLE PAGE
PREFACE (iii - iv)
Mrs. Elizabeth Thompson and Baroness Burdett-Coutts.
------------
Volume Second: THE "INFALLIBILITY" OF MODERN RELIGION.
CHAPTER 1: THE CHURCH: WHERE IS IT? (1-54)
Church statistics / Catholic "miracles" and spiritualistic "phenomena" / Christian and Pagan beliefs compared / Magic and sorcery practiced by Christian clergy / Comparative theology a new science / Eastern traditions as to Alexandrian Library / Roman pontiffs imitators of the Hindu Brahm-atma / Christian dogmas derived from heathen philosophy / Doctrine of the Trinity of Pagan origin / Disputes between Gnostics and Church Fathers / Bloody records of Christianity
CHAPTER 2: CHRISTIAN CRIMES AND HEATHEN VIRTUES. (55-122)
Sorceries of Catherine of Medicis / Occult arts practiced by the clergy / Witch-burnings and auto-da-fe of little children / Lying Catholic saints / Pretensions of missionaries in India and China / Sacrilegious tricks of Catholic clergy / Paul a kabalist / Peter not the founder of Roman church / Strict lives of Pagan hierophants / High character of ancient "mysteries" / Jacolliot's account of Hindu fakirs / Christian symbolism derived from Phallic worship / Hindu doctrine of the Pitris / Brahminic spirit-communion / Dangers of untrained mediumship /
CHAPTER 3: DIVISIONS AMONGST THE EARLY CHRISTIANS. (123-166)
Resemblance between early Christianity and Buddhism / Peter never in Rome / Meanings of "Nazar" and "Nazarene" / Baptism a derived right / Is Zoroaster a generic name? / Pythagorean teachings of Jesus / The Apocalypse kabalistic / Jesus considered an adept by some Pagan philosophers and early Christians / Doctrine of permutation / The meaning of God-Incarnate / Dogmas of the Gnostics / Ideas of Marcion, the "heresiarch" / Precepts of Manu / Jehovah identical with Bacchus
CHAPTER 4: ORIENTAL COSMOGONIES AND BIBLE RECORDS. (167-211)
Discrepancies in the Pentateuch / Indian, Chaldean and Ophite systems compared / Who were the first Christians? / Christos and Sophia-Achamoth / Secret doctrine taught by Jesus / Jesus never claimed to be God / New Testament narratives and Hindu legends / Antiquity of the "Logos" and "Christ" / Comparative Virgin-worship
CHAPTER 5: MYSTERIES OF THE KABALA. (212-250)
En-Soph and the Sephiroth / The primitive wisdom-religion / The book of Genesis a compilation of Old World legends / The Trinity of the Kabala / Gnostic and Nazarene systems contrasted with Hindu myths / Kabalism in the book of Ezekiel / Story of the resurrection of Jairus's daughter found in the history of Christna / Untrustworthy teachings of the early Fathers / Their persecuting spirit
CHAPTER 6: ESOTERIC DOCTRINES OF BUDDHISM PARODIED IN CHRISTIANITY. (251-290)
Decisions of Nicean Council, how arrived at / Murder of Hypatia / Origin of the fish-symbol of Vishnu / Kabalistic doctrine of the Cosmogony / Diagrams of Hindu and Chaldeo-Jewish systems / Ten mythical Avatars of Vishnu / Trinity of man taught by Paul / Socrates and Plato on soul and spirit / True Buddhism, what it is
CHAPTER 7: EARLY CHRISTIAN HERESIES AND SECRET SOCIETIES. (291-347)
Nazareans, Ophites, and modern Druzes / Etymology of IAO / "Hermetic Brothers" of Egypt / True meaning of Nirvana / The Jayna sect / Christians and Chrestians / The Gnostics and their detractors / Buddha, Jesus, and Apollonius of Tyana
CHAPTER 8: JESUITRY AND MASONRY. (348-404)
The Sohar and Rabbi Simeon / The Order of Jesuits and its relation to some of the Masonic orders / Crimes permitted to its members / Principles of Jesuitry compared with those of Pagan moralists / Trinity of man in Egyptian Book of the Dead / Freemasonry no longer esoteric / Persecution of Templars by the Church / Secret Masonic ciphers / Jehovah not the "Ineffable Name"
CHAPTER 9: THE VEDAS AND THE BIBLE. (405-476)
Nearly every myth based on some great truth / Whence the Christian Sabbath / Antiquity of the Vedas / Pythagorean doctrine of the potentialities of numbers / "Days" of Genesis and "Days" of Brahma / Fall of man and the Deluge in the Hindu books / Antiquity of the Mahabharata / Were the ancient Egyptians of the Aryan race? / Samuel, David, and Solomon mythical personages / Symbolism of Noah's Ark / The Patriarchs identical with zodiacal signs / All Bible legends belong to universal history
CHAPTER 10: THE DEVIL-MYTH. (477-529)
The devil officially recognized by the Church / Satan the mainstay of sacerdotalism / Identity of Satan with the Egyptian Typhon / His relation to serpent-worship / The Book of Job and the Book of the Dead / The Hindu devil a metaphysical abstraction / Satan and the Prince of Hell in the Gospel of Nicodemus
CHAPTER 11: COMPARATIVE RESULTS OF BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY. (530-586)
The age of philosophy produced no atheists / The legends of three Saviours / Christian doctrine of the Atonement illogical / Cause of the failure of missionaries to convert Buddhists and Brahmanists / Neither Buddha nor Jesus left written records / The grandest mysteries of religion in the Bagaved-gita / The meaning of regeneration explained in the Satapa-Brahmana / The sacrifice of blood interpreted / Demoralization of British India by Christian missionaries / The Bible less authenticated than any other sacred book / Knowledge of chemistry and physics displayed by Indian jugglers
CHAPTER 12: CONCLUSIONS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. (587-640)
Recapitulation of fundamental propositions / Seership of the soul and of the spirit / The phenomenon of the so-called spirit-hand / Difference between mediums and adepts / Interview of an English ambassador with a reincarnated Buddha / Flight of a lama's astral body related by Abbe Huc / Schools of magic in Buddhist lamaseries / The unknown race of Hindu Todas / Will-power of fakirs and yogis / Taming of wild beasts by fakirs / Evocation of a living spirit by a Shaman, witnessed by the writer / Sorcery by the breath of a Jesuit Father / Why the study of magic is almost impracticable in Europe / Conclusion
APPENDICES
"Theories
about Reincarnation and Spirits," by H. P. Blavatsky
"My
Books," by H. P. Blavatsky
"How
Isis Unveiled Was Written" by Alexander Wilder, M. D.
Theosophical
University Press, publishing and distributing quality theosophical
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Isis
Unveiled by H. P.
Blavatsky
Theosophical University Press Online Edition
Appendix 3
How "Isis Unveiled" Was Written.*
By Alexander Wilder, M. D.
From The Word, May 1908 (7:2)
*The authorship of "Isis Unveiled" has sometimes been questioned. Some persons have claimed it for themselves. The one individual best able to bear witness, from among all who had personal knowledge of the authorship, is Alexander Wilder, physician and scholar, the most able of the Platonists. To-day, at 85 years, he has the buoyancy of youth, the mental virility of manhood, and all with his Platonic "enthusiasm." — H. W. P.
One
morning in the autumn of 1876, I saw in the New York "Tribune"
the mention of a work in process of publication styled "Art-Magic,"
which would treat of recondite subjects. Having from earlier years
been interested in such matters, I wrote to the address there given
and received a reply from Mrs. Hardinge-Britton. Besides answering my
inquiry, she told me of the forming of a Theosophical Society, then
taking place. But I did not pursue this clue. I had become disgusted
with individual pretensions to superior powers, and unusual names
have for me no attraction. Some weeks later, however, learning that
the book had been printed, I called upon Mrs. Britton and received a
copy. She stated that the author did not give his name, and that he
would not require the payment which I was to make, paying a
compliment to my intellectual qualifications as something unusual in
this field. The book was very interesting to me, and contained many
valuable nuggets in relation to arcane matters. Unfortunately, there
was no index, and the omission of an index takes away half the
usefulness of a book to a student. There was no allusion in the book
to the Theosophical Society, and I had no curiosity to know about the
organization.
At
that time I had been editing several publications for Mr. J. W.
Bouton, a bookseller in New York, and was lecturing and contributing
papers for one or two periodicals. Other engagements and associations
had been laid aside. I had barely heard of Madame Blavatsky, but in
no connection with anything relating to Theosophy, or other subject
that I knew anything about. She had been described as having
introduced herself to an acquaintance as a "rushing Russian,"
and her manner had attracted attention. Nothing more was elicited at
that time.
On
a pleasant afternoon, in early autumn, some months later, I was alone
in the house. The bell was rung, and I answered at the door. Colonel
Henry S. Olcott was there with an errand to myself. I did not
recognize him, as I had never had any occasion to make his
acquaintance, but he having had some governmental business with one
of my employers several years before, had known me ever since. He had
never suspected, however, that I took any interest whatever in
unusual subjects; so completely successful had I been in keeping
myself unknown even to those who from daily association imagined that
they knew me very thoroughly. A long service in journalism, familiar
relations with public men, and active participation in political
matters, seemed to have shut out from notice an ardent passion for
mystic speculation, and the transcendental philosophy. I think that
Colonel Olcott had himself been taken somewhat by surprise.
He
had been referred to me by Mr. Bouton. Madam Blavatsky had compiled a
work upon occult and philosophic subjects, and Mr. Bouton had been
asked in relation to undertaking its publication. Why it had been
referred to me I could never well understand. Mr. Bouton had taken
passage for England a few days before, and I had visited him several
times, even going over from Newark to bid him farewell the morning
that he left. Yet he had not said a word to me about the manuscript.
Did he really expect me to read it, or was he merely endeavoring to
shirk having anything to do with it without actually refusing
outright? I am now inclined to the opinion that he referred Colonel
Olcott to me to evade saying "No." At the time, however, I
supposed that, although the mode of proceeding was not that of a man
of business, Mr. Bouton really meant that I should examine the work,
and I agreed to undertake the task.
It
was truly a ponderous document and displayed research in a very
extended field, requiring diligence, familiarity with the various
topics, as well as a purpose to be fair to the writer. Regarding
myself as morally obligated to act for the advantage of Mr. Bouton, I
showed no favor beyond what I believed justice to demand. I regarded
it a duty to be severe. In my report to him, I stated that the
manuscript was the product of great research, and that so far as
related to current thinking, there was a revolution in it, but I
added that I deemed it too long for remunerative publishing.
Mr.
Bouton, however, presently agreed to publish the work. I never
learned the terms, but subsequent occurrences led me to presume that
they were not carefully considered. He procured the copyright in his
own name, which enabled him to control the price, and he refused
every proposition afterward to transfer the ownership to the author,
or to cheapen the cost. He placed the manuscript again in my hands,
with instructions to shorten it as much as it would bear. This was a
discretionary power that was far from agreeable. It can hardly be
fair that a person acting solely in behalf of the publisher should
have such authority over the work of an author. Nevertheless, I
undertook the task. While abridging the work, I endeavored in every
instance to preserve the thought of the author in plain language,
removing only such terms and matter as might be regarded as
superfluous, and not necessary to the main purpose. In this way,
enough was taken out to fill a volume of respectable dimensions. In
doing all this, I consulted only what I supposed to be Mr. Bouton's
advantage, and believed that he so regarded it, as I had only his
instructions. But it proved to be only a "labor of love."
Colonel
Olcott was very desirous that I should become acquainted with Madam
Blavatsky. He appeared to hold her in high regard closely approaching
to veneration, and to consider the opportunity to know her a rare
favor for any one. I was hardly able to share his enthusiasm. Having
a natural diffidence about making new acquaintances, and acting as a
critic upon her manuscript, I hesitated for a long time. Finally,
however, these considerations were passed over and I accompanied him
to their establishment in Forty-seventh Street.
It
was a "flat," that unhomelike fashion of abode that now
extends over populous cities, superseding the household and family
relationship wherever it prevails. The building where they lived had
been "transmogrified" for such purposes, and they occupied
a suite of apartments on an upper floor. The household in this case
comprised several individuals, with separate employments. They
generally met at meal-time, together with such guests from elsewhere
as might happen to be making a visit.
The
dining room was furnished in simple style with no affectation of
anything unusual or extraordinary. Perhaps, I ought to add that later
in the year following, this condition was quite considerably
modified. The autumn of 1879 was characterized, as I have never since
observed it, by the richness of color in the foliage. Numerous
parties visited the woods around to gather the tinted leaves for
ornamental purposes. One of the inmates of the flat, a foreigner who
was in rapport with the Theosophical fraternity, had in this way,
procured a large quantity and set herself to use them to decorate the
dining room. She made several emblematic figures, the double triangle
being the principal one of these. Then she followed with an Oriental
landscape extending the length of the apartment. There were to be
seen the figures of an elephant, a monkey, and other creatures, and a
man standing as if contemplating the scene. This decoration remained
through the winter till the household had broken up. I then brought
it away to Newark and set it up in a hall. Here it remained several
years. It was there when Mr. G. R. S. Mead visited me. I sent it
afterward to Miss Caroline Hancock at Sacramento, and she in turn
presented it to the Theosophical Society at San Francisco. Doubtless
it has long since met the fate of wornout furniture. But it had
notoriety in its earlier days, from the admiration of visitors for
its ingenuity and oddness of conception, and descriptions of it were
published in several newspapers.
The
study in which Madam Blavatsky lived and worked was arranged after a
quaint and very primitive manner. It was a large front room, and
being on the side next the street, was well lighted. In the midst of
this was her "den," a spot fenced off on three sides by
temporary partitions, writing desk and shelves for books. She had it
as convenient as it was unique. She had but to reach out an arm to
get a book, paper or other article that she might desire, that was
within the enclosure. The place could not accord with a vivid sense
of beauty, except after the ancient Greek conception that beauty is
fitness for its purpose, everything certainly being convenient and
handy. In this place Madam Blavatsky reigned supreme, gave her
orders, issued her judgments, conducted her correspondence, received
her visitors and produced the manuscript of her book.
She
did not resemble in manner or figure what I had been led to expect.
She was tall, but not strapping; her countenance bore the marks and
exhibited the characteristics of one who had seen much, thought much,
traveled much, and experienced much. Her figure reminded me of the
description which Hippokrates has given to the Scyths, the race from
which she probably descended. Her dress I do not feel competent to
describe, and in fact never noticed so as to be able to remember. I
am a man and seldom observant of a woman's attire. My attention is
given to the individual, and unless the clothing should be strikingly
different from the current style,
I would be unable to
speak of it intelligently or intelligibly. All that I have to say is
that she was completely dressed. Her appearance was certainly
impressive, but in no respect was she coarse, awkward, or ill-bred.
On the other hand she exhibited culture, familiarity with the manners
of the most courtly society and genuine courtesy itself. She
expressed her opinions with boldness and decision, but not
obtrusively. It was easy to perceive that she had not been kept
within the circumscribed limitations of a common female education;
she knew a vast variety of topics and could discourse freely upon
them.
In
several particulars, I presume that I never fairly or fully
understood her. Perhaps this may have extended further than I am
willing to admit. I have heard tell of her profession of superhuman
powers and of extraordinary occurrences that would be termed
miraculous. I, too, believe, like Hamlet, that there are more things
in heaven and earth than our wise men of this age are willing to
believe. But Madam Blavatsky never made any such claim to me. We
always discoursed of topics which were familiar to both, as
individuals on a common plane. Colonel Olcott often spoke to me as
one who enjoyed a grand opportunity, but she herself made no
affectation of superiority. Nor did I ever see or know of any such
thing occurring with anyone else.
She
professed, however, to have communicated with personages whom she
called "the Brothers," and intimated that this, at times,
was by the agency, or some means analogous to what is termed
"telepathy." It is not necessary to show or insist that
this mode of communication has been known and even carried on from
antiquity. The Khabar is well known in the Orient. I have supposed
that an important condition for ability to hold such intercourse was
abstinence from artificial stimulation such as comes from the use of
flesh as food, alcoholic drink and other narcotic substances. I do
not attach any specific immorality to these things, but I have
conjectured that such abstemiousness was essential in order to give
the mental powers full play, and to the noetic faculty free course
without impediment or contamination from lower influence. But Madam
Blavatsky displayed no such asceticism. Her table was well furnished,
but without profusion, and after a manner not differing from that of
other housekeepers. Besides, she indulged freely in the smoking of
cigarettes, which she made as she had occasion. I never saw any
evidence that these things disturbed, or in any way interfered with
her mental acuteness or activity.
At
my first visit, her reception was courteous and even friendly. She
seemed to become acquainted at once. She spoke of the abridgements
which I had made of her manuscript, extolling what I had done far
beyond what it deserved. "What had been taken out was
'flapdoodle,' " she declared. My judgment, certainly, had not
been so severe as that. I had not looked for defects, or found them,
but only to ascertain how the manuscript might be "boiled down,"
without affecting the general purpose. In other cases, it has been my
rule to scrutinize unprinted manuscript in quest of faults, but to
look when it has been printed, to find out its meaning and merits. In
this instance, however, I had aimed only to shorten without marring
the work. It should be stated, however, as a fact in the publication
of this work, that Madam Blavatsky continued to add matter, after Mr.
Bouton began the undertaking, and I think that much of the second
volume was then written. I have no recollection of much of it except
in proof sheets at a later period.
It
was no easy matter to give the publication a fitting title. I do not
remember that my services were asked in this matter, and certainly
they would not have been worth the asking. It is a department in
which I am particularly weak. Nor do I think the name unexceptionable
which was adopted.
Mr.
Bouton is entitled to that distinction. He was a skilful caterer in
the bookselling world to which he belonged, but he had business
ability rather than a sense of fitness. He once published the
treatise of R. Payne Knight on Ancient Art and added pictures
relating solely to Hindu mythology, entirely foreign to the subject.
This work of Madam Blavatsky is largely based upon the hypothesis of
a prehistoric period of the Aryan people in India, and in such a
period the veil or the unveiling of Isis can hardly be said to
constitute any part. On the contrary, it is a dramatic representation
peculiar to the religion and wisdom of Egypt and perhaps is allied to
the Syrian Hyksos enormities. Certainly the problems of Egyptian lore
are to be considered with other pens than those with which "
Isis Unveiled " was written.
After
the work had been printed and placed on sale, there was discussion in
regard to the actual authorship. Many were unwilling to acknowledge
that Madam Blavatsky could be sufficiently well informed or
intellectually capable of such a production. True that women like
Frances Burney had composed romances of high merit. Miss Farley had
conducted successfully the " Lowell Offering." Mary
Somerville had written on Physical Science, and Harriet Martineau on
Political Economy.
A
clergyman in New York, a member of the Russian Greek Church, I have
been told, affirmed that I was the actual author. That report,
however, can hardly have gone far. It would be refuted after the
manner that the late Henry Ward Beecher put a stop to a similar one.
He tells us that when Uncle
Tom's Cabin was
published there were many who insisted that he, and not Mrs. Stowe
was the author. "Then," says Mr. Beecher, "I wrote
Norwood,"
which entirely
disposed of the matter. So, too, nobody familiar with my style of
writing would ever impute to me the authorship of Isis
Unveiled.
I
would hesitate, likewise, to be considered in any noteworthy sense as
an editor of the work. It is true that after Mr. Bouton had agreed to
become the publisher, I was asked to read the proof sheets and make
sure that the Hebrew words and terms belonging to other languages
were correctly given by the printer, but I added nothing, and do not
remember that I ventured to control anything that was contributed to
the work. Without her knowledge and approval, such action would have
been reprehensible.
While
she was engaged in the work, she had many books relating to the
various topics, evidently for consultation. There were Jacolliot's
work on India, Bunsen's Egypt, Ennemoser's History
of Magic and others.
I had myself written papers upon a variety of subjects for the
Phrenological Journal
and other periodicals, and she had procured many of them. We often
discussed the topics, and their various characteristics, for she was
a superior conversationalist and at home on every matter about which
we discoursed. She spoke the English language with the fluency of one
perfectly familiar with it, and who thought in it. It was the same to
me as though talking with any man of my acquaintance. She was ready
to take the idea as it was expressed, and uttered her own thoughts
clearly, concisely and often forcibly. Some of the words which she
employed had characteristics which indicated their source. Any thing
which she did not approve or hold in respect she promptly disposed of
as "flapdoodle." I have never heard or encountered the term
elsewhere. Not even the acts or projects of Colonel Olcott escaped
such scathing, and in fact he not unfrequently came under her
scorching criticism. He writhed under it, but, except for making some
brief expression at the time, he did not appear to cherish
resentment.
In
regard to the genuineness of her authorship, a story was once told
me, which has been imagined by some to have a direct relation to the
matter. I suppose this to be the occasion of several letters
addressed to me upon the subject. My informant was the late Mrs.
Elizabeth Thompson of Boston. Mrs. Thompson was a woman of wealth,
abounding with benevolent purposes, but eager for novelties that were
more or less visionary, shifting from one pursuit to another, and
accessible to flattery. For example, she gave the money which enabled
a medical college to hold several lecture terms, and then let the
enterprise die out; she paid for building a chapel for the sessions
of the Summer School of Philosophy at Concord, and then tired of the
enterprise; she aided Dr. Newbrough with money to print his new bible
Oahspe, and employed the artist, Mr. Frank Carpenter, to paint the
picture of President Lincoln and his cabinet, which she presented to
Congress. The wealth which her husband had bequeathed to her became a
bait for all manner of parasites to seek her, and flattery artfully
bestowed was often like the magical words: "Open, sesame,"
sure to find the way to her purse. But she quickly dropped one for
another.
For
a little time she was attracted to Madam Blavatsky. This was somewhat
to be wondered at, for it is hard to conceive that Madam Blavatsky
flattered anybody. She did not hesitate to tell Henry Ward Beecher
when he was at the height of his popularity, that he was not an
honest public teacher.
It
might be questioned whether Mrs. Thompson herself was quite sincere.
I remember meeting her one day at dinner at the flat. A statement
which I made was imputed by Colonel Olcott to the "Astral
light."
Some
days later, I saw Mrs. Thompson at her own premises, and she asked me
my opinion in a manner that impressed me that she was hardly
straightforward in her relations with the Theosophical household.
A
year or so afterward, they had left New York for India. Mrs. Thompson
had become an inmate of the family of Dr. Newbrough on West 34th
Street. He was endeavoring to push the "new Bible" into
circulation. I called there one day by invitation, and learning that
she had rooms in the house, paid her my respects. In our
conversation, Madam Blavatsky was mentioned, and Mrs. Thompson spoke
of her in these terms:
"If
Madam Blavatsky should come in at that door I should kiss her
affectionately. At the same time I believe her to be a perfect
humbug."'
She
then related the following story: Baron de Palm, a German gentleman,
who spent some time in this country, had died in Roosevelt Hospital.
He had devoted much attention to arcane subjects, and had written
upon them. He was intimate with the party on 47th Street, and made
them recipients of his property, but with the assurance that his body
should be cremated. There was a woman in the household who seems to
have become unfriendly and ready to talk at random. She told Mrs.
Thompson that after the death of the Baron she was with Madam
Blavatsky while examining the contents of his trunks. One of these,
the woman said, was full of manuscripts. Madam Blavatsky looked at a
few of the pages, and then hastily closed the trunk, making an effort
to divert attention in another direction.
Mrs.
Thompson apparently believed that this manuscript was the material of
the work Isis
Unveiled. Certainly
she endeavored to give me that impression. But I am not apt at taking
hints, and do not like others to suppose that I imply what I do not
explicitly say. The giving of hints is hardly an honorable practice;
it is an evasion, and often simply the affectation of knowing
something beyond which is directly communicated. I never made use of
this story, and repeated it only to Dr. R. B. Westbrook, of
Philadelphia, and to Colonel Olcott when I next met him in New York.
Several
individuals have written letters, as though I knew something that
would discredit the sincerity of Madam Blavatsky and the genuineness
of the originality of Isis
Unveiled. My reply
was that she had always dealt justly with me, and I had no
disposition to speak unkindly of her. I mean always to avoid being
sycophantic or credulous, but I will not recompense fair treatment by
evil or unfriendly speaking.
It
will readily be perceived that there was really no evidence
sufficient to warrant the imputing of the authorship of Isis
Unveiled to Baron de
Palm. I do not know whether, being of foreign birth, he could write
fluently in the English language. It is not known that the manuscript
in the trunk was written for publication, or was in any proper book
form. Indeed, I have never been informed whether he contemplated such
a work, or even that he had sufficient capacity. All this would
require to be taken for granted, before it would be permissible to
presume any imposture in the authorship.
The
manuscript which I handled I am very sure was in the handwriting of
Madam Blavatsky herself. Anybody who was familiar with her, would,
upon reading the first volume of Isis
Unveiled,
not have any difficulty in recognizing her as the author. Nor was the
manuscript, voluminous as it was, sufficiently extensive to include a
large trunk full of written paper. Besides, a full third, or even
more, of what was published, was written by Madam Blavatsky after Mr.
Bouton had set about putting the work in type. She was by no means
expert in preparing her material. She patched and changed, making a
very large bill for "alterations." Indeed, she never
actually finished the work, the publisher declared to me, till he
told her that she must stop.
It
had been desired of me that I should read the proofsheets. It was not
my province to dictate or even suggest what should be included in the
work, and I do not remember taking exception but once. She had
described certain medical treatment, with apparent approval, in which
mercury was a factor. To this drug I entertain a lifelong antipathy.
I have seen individuals "railroaded" out of life by its use
as medicine, and others crippled hopelessly. My protestations may
have induced her to qualify her eulogy.
She
always treated me with courtesy. When her work was most urgent, or
she had been wearied with visitors, she commanded the woman at the
door to turn off all callers. That prohibition was repeatedly spoken
to me, but as she heard my voice, she would call out to admit me.
This occurred when the call was not a matter of business. She was
ready in conversation, and was at home on any topic, however
abstruse. Few persons in any walk of life are as well supplied with
material for discourse. Even Colonel Olcott, who was by no means
inferior or commonplace, was not her equal except in his own
profession.
Believing
that the main body of the work would not be sufficiently attractive
to purchasers, I urged her to include in it accounts of the
marvellous things which she had observed in India. But this she
invariably declined to do, saying that it was not permitted by "the
Brothers." That was a tribunal that I could not question; my
wisdom in the matter was that of the market-place. But she was always
ready to hear what I had to say, whether in relation to her work, or
to philosophic questions, or to subjects of everyday life. When the
printer had placed everything in type, I was employed to prepare the
index. Others must judge whether this was done with fidelity. As the
author paid for this, and the publisher refrained from advancing a
cent for all that I had done in the matter, though careful to make
sure of all the proceeds from the sales, it is but just to render the
acknowledgement where it is due.
The
work was finally completed, and Isis
Unveiled was duly
issued. The household began at once to make arrangements for leaving
New York. Madam Blavatsky visited the Bureau of Naturalization and
there became a citizen of the United States. This astonished me,
partly because I knew her to be contemplating to leave the country
permanently, and partly because she had freely criticized our ways of
doing and our politics. She explained that the American nation had
the best government. There were probably matters of law involved that
I did not know about. Colonel Olcott was a skillful lawyer, and had
been employed by the administration at Washington to ferret out
alleged violations of law, he knew what would be necessary abroad for
a safeguard. As the party after their arrival in India became objects
of suspicion as possible spies of the Russian Government, it is not
unlikely that the precaution was wise.
Madam
Blavatsky wrote to me several times after their arrival at Bombay.
She told of many matters of interest to a student in comparative
religions, such as I am, and her letters were entertaining as well as
instructive. But as time passed, new duties took the place of old
recollections. Such events occurred as the break with Dayananda, the
leader of the Arya Samaj, an alliance unnatural for Americans of
Protestant antecedents, who do not like any one to exercise dominion
over their religious beliefs. The
Theosophist, however,
came regularly to me and was preserved from its first number. This
enabled me to keep track of the party, and their doings — till the
closing of their present earthly career.
END
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