MORIANITY
PART 5, CHAPTER 00098
7:36
PM-EDST, FRIDAY EVENING, 7 JUNE, 2013
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
OK
folks, I've cut the fucking enemies a break for a week of siege now,
and this is where KI must now draw a line in the rock chucking sand,
and really tell some things out to the world, as a total retaliation
for this death pummeling siege being rained down on me by the
Astral-Plane group known as the MILLIONTH
COUNCIL'S EVIL THIRD, or the LAMBRIGGER CULT, those who
reside on the BRIGGBASE of the great nestern shores of the TECK BAY.
I have not run out of things to tell you, as somebody hinted at
recently, and believe me, if I had all the time in the world, for
Weena, and other story telling listeners; we would be all night long.
My rotten bunt tapping nabes have been making horrendous loud noise
now day and night all week long, and it must be reported, and it will
be, I cannot take it this bad any longer, and they go on real mother
sucking rolls, or maybe a more accurate way of putting it, despite
being scoffed and laughed at, would be going on roles, as Dennis
Snyder was a very intelligent man, and quite the philosopher, and
I'll not soon forget the talks that we had at the Cifaloglio guard
job, where he reminded me that the Hollywood crowd are impossible to
ever really know, especially the actors more than those in the music
circles, as their job is to act and perform, and it does not
necessary stop when the words of, “cut, that's a wrap” get
spoken, and I fully agree with him, and for every actor officially
paying taxes as actors, there are most likely a four figure amount of
wannabees. Now this means they too have practiced the art form well
and long, and are also very adept at this professional deception
ability or I'll shorten this term that may be used again on other
blogging material at future times, to the abbreviation of PDA. PDA is
all around, everywhere, whether the average person going through a
normal average day is ever aware of it or not. Using psychology on
someone, a term that once was quite commonly used, at least in the
olden days of my earlier life, and this was sort of one and the same
thing with this now discussed PDA. The difference if anything at all
between the two items would be that one would exist for the sake of
only and just, using this technique to control and manipulate other
people to do our bidding, whereas the other one that has little to do
with stuff in the DSM-5, actually has a real life reason to be and
exist, as all of us love to enjoy a good show and a good movie, and
that takes some really dam good acting, and thus, good actors and
actresses. There are lots of mediocre actors and few great ones. The
ones who may not quite be ranked within the Greta Garbo, Betty
Davis, James Stuart, Humphrey Bogart, etcetera, caliber; or on the
Astral Plane not that far from a region known as Potterkovich, in
Province Olympia, 'Callio-Botbar'; Mayor of H-Town and phased four
times outside any ambulances driving in the wrong direction at
ancient battlefields; but yes folks, the ones that appear to be great
at certain times, although not really on the top of the list, happens
from time to time, as they are given roles to play, that the Beatles
Music Group knew a little bit about, especially, speaking of Brady
flip side kisses of YESTERDAY. Yes it is quite easy to come off as
great acting, when you are not acting, but really, being yourself. I
just thought it 'important' here for me to toss this little bit of
somewhat insignificant speck of raw data into the equation, for the
few out here who may appreciate it, and maybe if I am lucky, instead
of wanting my head mounted on a den, just may decide to give a quick
honest little chuckle, and then move on and do a Rob Hartley! No
ladies and gentlemen, there is no end in sight to what I plan on
telling, not when my WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE ENEMIES are pouring on this
much horrendous and totally monstrous persecution and harassment, and
remember their number one tactic, used on me, and others who they
hate; is EXCESSIVE
NOISE, and for those too young to remember the Waco,
Texas situation with the Branch Davidian
Cult in 1992, well, need I say more other than the details
are in the library to read, and I assure you that lots of truer
information that matches what I am telling you right now, can be
found on the internet under ''conspiracy theory' writings, Google it
all up, look at the clubs and the websites, and narrow your search
down to the tactics of excessive noise used as a weapon against
enemies by military forces and powers, it is all up there, everything
is on the internet, and you need to be your own judges and juries on
accuracy and dependability, as there are always some degrees of a lie
within any and all truth, and the reverse also applies, folks. There
are always some degrees of truth, within any lie. In fact a piss poor
liar just lies and lies and lies, and very soon, not a soul will ever
believe a word that they say, rendering them and all they may try and
ever do, from that moment on; quite null and void. The smart liars
will tell 100 big truths, and then at just the perfect time; they
will slip in that lie that catches up the most non-trusting and non
gullible persons from Missouri, and kaboom, they've got you. I say
all this merely to reinforce the point that I am trying to make, and
not to create more clever nasty liars in this world, as we have
enough actors and liars, right now, 500 times over, at least, IMHO,
that the great Mashell Daniels says I am entitled to, at least she
said it in 1980, that was then, and I am clueless to how it all
devolved into 'now'. Shall we move this along, wonderful folks, L-4,
MB, and any others who may be even eluding this T-2-E. Yes, someone
who is onto the entire stuff that falls under what I have named and
labeled, ''EXPLORATRONICS'', and may be officially named something
entirely differently by the real club in some remote corner of the
fifth Marilyn McCoo dimension; but that entity that is onto this
truth 100%, yet is not fully able to claim mastership 100% of Type-3
beingness, and is not in the club, is by the labels and standards of
the Morianity system, a TYPE-2-EXPLORATRON. Type one are normal folks
who would get a gold star, and pass the patient test, for rational
and sane, by any textbook definitions written in the current bible of
nut-case study, currently the DSM-5; and thus who believe that we
sleep and we dream, and that is that, except for perhaps dozens of
wild psychological theories and studies of what dreams can reveal to
the waking world real life, a total nonsensical lie of the year 2013
and backward from there so far. So Type-1 are just the normal folks,
and type 2 are the types who know that hyperspace is nothing more
than dreamers falling down asleep off of the Astral-plane, and all
the other complicated stuff explained so far in Moriarty. TYPE-3, now
this IS THE CLUB, as most of them, although traveling rarely alone,
do upon occasion in fact do just that, and perhaps often, but
eventually, to be fully TYPE-3, common sense tells us that just as
law and medicine of this time is established and controlled, so is
this, and just as licenses to practice, and some sort of a standard
and centralized hub exists such as the AMA or the legal BAR, and so
on with all professions; I would doubt with what's left of my sanity
and good reason, that this would really be any different. So there
are three types of entities, and MORIANITY has made this claim from
the first swing of the baseball bat. TYPE-1 people just go to sleep,
and they leave things right there, and this is the vast majority of
the entities of hyperspace, especially in the backward years in
relation to more advanced times in any parallel reality. TYPE-2
people are varying shades of gray-me-types, you know, no connection
to gray aliens, I simply mean there is a range of types like myself,
such as Carlos Castaneda, and myself, and many many other folks, but
none of us IMHO at least, are TYPE-3. The only three people who are
TYPE-3 in this exact frequency of atomic reality, or here in this
present time and this universe of so many virtually parallel other
ones inside an unimaginably vast hyperspace that contains them all,
would be my son in law, his mother in law, and the greatest pop diva
on this planet so far as of 2013. I will leave things right there for
many many reasons, as I do have knowledge that I should not have, not
as a type-2-non initiate of the full maxed out entity beingness that
is possible inside this wild 5-D dream! Now we will proceed on into
what will be added to what so far has been made a part of the
Morianity Project, or the hopefully future, MORIANITY-FOUNDATION,
the 'religion' for the THIRD MILLENNIUM, hence, the name on old
originally blog texts, MORIANITY FOR
MILLENNIUM-3 or simply MFM3.
BANG
BANG BOOM BOOM BING ZONK BATMAN ADAM WEST AND NEIGHBORS FROM FUCKING
TOTAL HELLFIRE, PHA, the worthless overseers I've ever had the
displeasure to deal with, and as I said, in earlier blogging texts,
IF THEY ARE NOT THEMSELVES IN ON IT, then why, first, won't they
throw these pricks out of here and help me, and second, why won';t
they let a drug dog walk the hallways as resident manager Debbie
Moratto suggested to them twice, and thank the gods, was foolish
enough to impart to me that information, so I can blog it out to the
entire fucking world? A moron can see through all of this, but when
things begin to prove old tin foil hat me, and others like me, on the
'KEEP DOWN,
AND COVERTLY DESTROY' LIST;
this is when they need to go into the WASHINGTON-IRS-POLITICS-MODE,
so to speak, and I really do hate using current events to maker my
points, or to even discuss them at all, as m y story is pertaining to
eternity, and not confined and limited to tiny specks of time and
event here and there inside a huge illusion that is only explainable
so far with Einstein's great mass and energy equation. Still, they
forced my fucking hand tonight, my good believers, YO! Watch those
queens and sixes Josephine, or was that aces and fives, or are we
still all dancing around trying to create new elements and
dance-beats, lovely ISIS?
Yes
folks, Friday or no Friday, between midnight and one AM, I WILL CALL
CRIME STOPPERS, JUST AS DEBBIE TOLD ME TO DO, IF THINGS DON'T STOP,
AS THIS IS TOTALLY FUCKING ABSURD AND MACK KAITER OFF THE WALL
REDICULOUS. Just put me to the test, as I will get this stopped and
them evicted, if I have to die by knife as per the old old dream, to
do it, my people!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes,
shall we move onto the final thing I will start getting into on this
blog? DUH,
Lenny
Briscoe,
and COLOR
ME
MINE!
I
told you all that nothing is real, that everything needs to be
created, that we in a higher all powerful collective self have indeed
done so, even though the word 'done' is no good, as it implies a time
or a tents when none is real in truth and at truth, and I have
treaded lightly and a little tad bit into the lane that discusses the
beginning of controlling ones non-conscious shift, into a
controllable entity, or as the mighty world renown Julia on the black
Horse Pike of Atlantic City, New Jersey said this to me back in 1997
on that summer night in her psychic shop, a 'being', as until an
entity becomes a T-3-E, they are only a mere fraction of a true
''in-control'' BEING. Maybe this is instinctively why many of us
enjoy being considered, ''human beings'', allowing us to remain
beings, but of the human and fallible race of Pennock Imperfections
of the early nineteen-seventies, not meant in any cute smart-ass pun
type of a way, as it really does perfectly, all fit together, BRUCE!
Still, I promise not to cry over any more magical combinations of
vibrations, not now, not during any cat chases, and not before any
major twisters strike back in the great PITSY-4-YEAR that NEVER
WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now you may laugh, MMCN, old buddy from Church
Farm School in 1971, all you want to! So what will bring me the
greatest retaliatory revenge and strike, for a week of pure hell,
and powerful noise attacks; oh wonderful late and great, Mister
Davidian Cult Waco Wacko? Well, what normally comes to mind when I
need to do this, what secret do they want kept the most and the best,
right this moment, besides Paula King (her street name) raping me on
the first Saturday in July of 1969, underneath of the Central Pier,
of Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG? Well, the problem here is
that this does not fit with the plan right now of adding a bit more
onto the EXPLORATRONIC study of real truth. Still, why not tell two
for the price of one blog, and since I keep it all free, and this is
the endless policy of MORIANITY to always do; let us enjoy a little
online BOGO here, great believers! Some know about the seagull heist
and the training of birds and monkeys and dolphins, and George C.
Scott, and a lot more, and is does not matter, as that one is not all
that easy to prove. My original computer programming degree from 1973
from the PC Institute, here we go again with the initials of endless
PC, politically correct or not, but aniwho, with or without any
Hanna's, western states, Lizzy non fire bugs, boxes, pools, cannons,
or car insurance; in or out of Griffin Pipe Township in New Jersey,
big guy CC, I thought you would enjoy knowing that I am blogging from
a PC, not a tablet, so I am not the hell on any beach, with any
whales, or any cursing Vulcan dudes, in or out of regular time, or
1986 years. No sir, I am here at home, in this hellish PHA building
with neighbors from where else, but HELL SQUARED???????????????? So
is a W—O—W
appropriate
right around here, Mike McNulty, sir, (MMCN)?????????????? Yes, the
power is in the blood, and mine is just one grade better than my
graduation, you know, British Petroleum and betting our Red
Henningsen 1969 raped BIPPIES on anything except roulette wheels that
did not arrive down there in Lovelyville, until it all began in 1978,
huh Resorts
SIN-DERR NATIONAL HOTEL AND CA----SIN----O?
Yes folks, but all this fucking stinking rotten bullshit laid aside,
folks and wabbits; here's the long and short of the updated lesson in
non Advanced-Robotics, but rather, in EXPLORATRONICS. First off
folks, you will all tie what I say together, in your own ways, it is
not my business to preach to you, merely tell some shit about my
life, then you go and invite it into your lives, just as you so
choose to do, this is exactly what I want, no more and no less. James
Redfield is indeed the true father
of this supposed now long dead, ''New Age'. His great books are ALL
MUST READS,
unless you enjoy being on a very low level of the Pedersen Created
Lifescale System or the (PCLS) for short abbreviated initials. How
many of you remember the blog a month or so back, when I cut my hand
on a can top that was near the stove that I had not yet thrown into
the trash, a somehow a cockroach, brought to me by what else but
these cock roach fucking neighbors across the dam hallway, made me
injure myself by reaching over to kill it, and getting cut quite
nastily. Well, I was fixing a steak and spaghetti din-din for Mizz
Davis and myself, AHA-AHA-AHA, I'll do it this time, smoke break for
you Mike if you need one; anihee, I fixed another meal exactly like
that one mentioned on the blog where I cut myself, a few nights back,
and as I was eating, and cutting the steak, don't even bother fucking
asking me just how it happened as I've been cutting meat longer than
Donna Summer, and she was a meat packer as a teenager, up in Boston's
Burbs, but POW, I cut my finger really bad and it bled profusely
until I got it all bandaged up. Most of May and June is all SUPER
FUCKING BOTBAR, I just don't go discussing it any fucking
Wirtz-Monster-Feeding-Mohr. Oh lovely, not old, sorry, misprint Mizz
Bondi as you are anything but old, but I meant to type in ''OH, not
old, anihee; just as the ADA told me in the early nineties while my
mom and I were renting the home of the mother of a New Jersey State
Police Officer, on Route #561, in Gibbsboro, NJUSAESMWG in the early
nineties; don't keep feeding the monster or it grows bigger, you need
to know when to fight it and tell me stuff, and when to just totally
ignore it yet staying vigilant, and remember when you see stuff in
front of you, that's when you need to be looking into your rear view
mirror”. I never mother fucking ever forgot that GREAT ASS ADVICE,
thank you KIND SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now that I am on
page fucking eleven of elven let me cunt phlegm rape with my fives,
please folks, TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 5555555555555555555555555555
PLUS 555555555555555 TIMES 5555555555555555555 divided by 555555555
is equal to who gives a shit, Donald Winn? Yeah, you are one swell
lovely nice cool fella, real charming and loaded with human feeling,
and then you want the citizens of this already major fucked up
nation, to elect you cunt lapping ass president, what fella, ya
nuts???????????????????????? Kiss my ass Jane, for what you did to me
in 1993, you rotten ass slob!!!!!!!! Say it Dawn and Dad,
SHEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!
Now
what do the two cuts and injuries have to do with the price of dog
shit and canned berries you may be wondering right about now, good
believers, so let me get down and fucking dirty. Well, both were cuts
on metal to my right hand, a lid of a can and then a knife, as I
said, both metal, and then both times, I had prepared a meal of steak
with spaghetti and tomato sauce, and I have not had this exact meal
combination before or since or at any time inbefuckingtween, YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Looks like Microsoft Spellchecker
has the hots for Roseann Delaney on that past sentence, but then
crissake we are speaking of the subject of blood, in fact we have
been ever since my computer programming degree in 1973, at the PC
Institute, WOW, if it gets much better than this, I'll whip off right
in front of the US Supreme Court, I swear to this!!! Hell, three hots
and a cot doesn't sound so bad to me right now, fuck this shit, Henry
Fonda, my old friend from 'MIVILLE' and Lake-less Vineland Paramedics
of parallel universes. So is another WOW
appropriate, MMCN? So what is causing these parallels to happen, you
know, I fix the exact same meal that I rarely prepare, and boom, I
cut my right hand friggin' half off? Well,, what causes Parallel
Event to happen in anything? The answer is I will never know for
sure, but I am beginning to totally that believe REALITY-3 is the
entity behind all paralleling events. Something, I don't fucking know
just what, but SOMETHING happens, and THEN, two other things HAPPEN,
and they seem to be related to each other in some mathematical
preponderance that remains endlessly above what would normally
eventually be random or unpredictable, out of a large grouped number.
If you go to a roulette table, and start keeping track of the twelve
bi-parameters of outside betting, you know, black and low, or red and
even, there are twelve total; and then you watch to see if a strong
parallel event exists in any of these twelve, where on the following
spin outcome, there is a much larger amount of times that one of the
two 50-50 chance outcomes does indeed come out in the remaining third
parameter, and let me give you an example here. If you are tracking
all 12 with a simple little stick figure chart as I did in 1986 when
I was playing professional roulette in Atlantic City at the casinos
there; and suddenly without any Walmart's or tunes of the RIAA being
involved whatsoever; you observe that on the bi-parameter of
BLACK-HIGH, there are 37 EVEN'S that follow on the next spin, and
only 6 ODD'S, you have a nice strong parallel-event for EVEN to
follow any near term wheel outcomes of a BLACK-HIGH number, these
being, in case you may be interested, 20-22-24-26-28-29-31-33-35.
After any of these numbers pop in at your wheel, your stats up to the
present time according to your stick figure chart, show the following
18 numbers to come in at a ratio of 37:6, and these being,
2-4-6-8-10-12-14-16-18-20-22-24-26-28-30-32-34-36, not counting the
house VIG numbers, the green ones, zero and double zero. This is an
'outside-betting system, so we are just thinking that after a BLACK
and HIGH, the so-far odds of an EVEN follow outcome are 37:6. Well,
don't get too excited. The true odds are never what they appear, as
this is just the way the wheel is working so far, but by waiting for
a strong parallel event such as this where the ratio of these two
numbers is at least 4 and even 5 times, or in other words at least 4
times the lower event number, so in this case being the 6, so at
least 24:6. By playing after you get something this strong, all odds
are that you will make more units profit than you lose, by betting
that same event every time it is signaled to be played, and when the
parallel event does eventually reverse, by the time it no longer at
least 4:1, you have made a lot of units. In reality, this system of
using the parallel-event in this exact way, was computer run by a man
named Rob Provenzono from New Jersey in the late eighties, and after
100,000,000 spins, was showing a 6.0-7.1 percent profit, when the
house VIG was not included. Factoring the roulette VIG in however,
big as it is, 5.26%, the 100 MEG computer run test, still showed at
1.74% unit gain over the 50-50 random, with this huge house-vig
included in the mix. This is not one of the strongest parallel
events, and this has been talked about before, right down to my high
school days at the Haddon Township High school in Westmont, New
Jersey; where I learned that tapping certain tiles in precise
combinations, in my bathroom, while either shitting or bathing in the
morning, would bring me a better or a worse type of a day, in school.
All my 720 high school days sucked, I could not wait for all three
720 thirds to be over, I hate fucking school. But not because I hated
to learn, I just hated the mother fuckin g jerk off people.
Naturally, we all grow up, and look back, and it was all a lot of
shit anyway. It means nothing to me now, in fact, I would love to see
the end of the entire fucking world. Nothing personal, and no offense
meant to a single soul. I am just tired of existing eternally. IT
SUCKS!!!!!
But
this is only a part of bullshit, the tile tapping that led up to
parallel event, as well as the great Sherry-Lee Pote from the
Chrysler Automobile Dealership in Oaklyn, New Jersey in 1997, and
lots fucking more. I may as well tell you all, a letter to the Fort
Pierce Mayor will be mailed at the post office tomorrow when I go up
on the island to see Mikey. It details how the Public Housing
Authorities must be in on this plot to drive me mad with noise from
these thug drug ghetto trash and their all night door slamming and
screaming, and drug selling and using over in those apartments across
from me. I have nothin g to lose, it will stop, or it is back to
fucking new Jersey for me, so get ready for me to come home, big guy,
like it or not, if the shit hits the fucking ass fan here for
me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just thought you may want the hell
to know about this, SIR!
I
HAVE LEGAL MOTHER FUCKING RIGHTS, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, AND YOU
ARE VIOLATING THEM, AND THE WORLD COURT AT THE HAGUE IS TOO SCARED
AND IMPOTENT TO HELP ME. THAT'S A FUCKING TOTAL GIVEN, OR IN 1996, IT
WOULD HAVE BEEN A GIVENS, THANKED OR NOT, HUH CALLIO CLAN OF
HELLFIRE???????????????????
Very
strange shit happened, part of this blog is hit with hyperspace
equation or some computer trick and black hat cracker hacking, I
don't totally know which or witch, but I do know that something got
screwed the fuck with. Next week will be interesting around the
middle or late part, when the Mayor of fucking Fort Pierce, gets my
dam ass letter, good believers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I told
the Mayor that when I go back to Jersey, I may not have all that much
good to say about the county and the state, as everyone has fucking
hurt me very badly here, and this is only me telling the mother
fucking ass total truth,m YO!!!!!!!!!!!! What, I'm supposed to
fucking cunt lapping tell a bunch of fat ass lies? That is not the
way that I was raised, in or out of Atco, near or far from the Durham
House, or the Pliner one for that freaking matter. Still, whether you
all want to endlessly watch me or not, that is your business, my life
is an open book, as is RIP OFF TOWN, and all real great straight
haired or curly haired girls everywhere, so that is that, mister
Esolph. Anihee, let me get on with the dam ass story, folks. Parallel
event can be a wonderful thing as well as a hellish nightmare. Sound
familiar? So can fucking cunt nuclear energy. So can a spouse. So can
a parent, a child, let us stop there, crissake, even I kn ow when a
do not crossover line suddenly pops up, and my apology to the
township of fucking Northfield, New Jersey, back in cock sucking
1999! Let me be a real 'prince' here. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Smoke
break's over, Mister McNulty, YO! No sir, I don't wanna go corrupting
one of my daughter's heroes, and messing up his mind with all of my
rotten ass Morianity, old unstable dinosaur little freaking me,
WHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!! People, the god dam truth about tile tapping is
not me traveling in time, or is it about a song called, “Love Is
For Carpenters”, please be both advised and assured of that,
friends and foes. Still, my blogs did tell you about the higher
buildings, with or without blood types, abbreviations, roller coaster
giants, future devices such as tablets and Wildwood Presses, and so
much more, but it tell you that soon it would be 3030, and even
sooner, it would be 1001 years before that, and I would be hearing a
really wild cool song playing on the radio about this wild ass year
of twenty-twenty-nine, and I was not sure just how long the Marola
pronunciations were going to last, or if they have totally converted
to the 2029 way yet all over America, as they have recently here in
fucking paradise, AKA Florida Laughing Time, MMCN! I told you in a
round about way at first, about the great Roseann Delaney, but let me
add herein that I do not remember whether or not I ever told you that
the dude who fixed my computer back at Jenny's hellhole park in
Jersey, told me that his two pals, the gay couple, also rooming at
Judge Raso's place on Central Avenue in BluEBERRYVILLE,
New Jersey; told him that they knew me and would not be specific
about it. When I myself later asked them, after they were going to
help me with another computer situation that Eddie was not going to
do for reasons we need not get into as this is a very fucking ass
ugly world as many know without any help from the Morianity Club, or
whateverrrrrrr, they suddenly up and moved far away somewhere,
naturally with a plausible and reasonable and very logical on the
surface, explanation. Before the dude from the store where I bought
the computer before I had the one I currently am using here in
'PARADISE', pity me Middie, I asked exactly what he was able to glean
from them about their comment pertaining to their claim of knowing me
from some place. He told me and I quote him, “Oh it's nothing, they
were high on something that day, 'cause they said their great grand
children know you in the future”, then he laughed, closed his
trunk, as he had been packing to leave himself, and started up his
car; and that was the end of all of them, forever. Then suddenly,
Dawn appears in my life, only it seems one other thing was said. He
claimed that they were talking, 'while high on something of course',
as 'it just could not be real', that Dawn is some kind of a visitor,
and that she is real, but that 'she is possessed with some spirit
inside of her'. These were the two things that I managed to get out
of this young dude, who worked for the EASY
BUTTON store,
before he sailed off into his own sunset, as I was also destined to
do. I don't buy the dog, I don't but the kidnapping. I really believe
that ISIS was inside DAWN most of the time, and she enjoyed
tormenting and torturing me relentlessly. Maybe now she feels
vindicated, as she seems to be convinced that her step-dad is
sleepwalking inside of me upon occasion. Hay at least I never did bad
stuff, I do not remember any complaints on August second in 1986
either. If you kept the tape all these years, I;d sure love to know
what it contained, probably me shouting the freaking word “BOTBAR”
a dozen times or more, and maybe you calling into the Privecode
machine as your subatomic third triune persona-self. Who can know if
you won't, show. Anihee, the NABES FROM HELL HAVE BEEN HORRIBLE ALL
THIS WEEK AND MONTH, THIS HORRIBLE FUCKING ASS JUNE OF '13! I just
know asked GAWKY GAUKAUK why this is happening, and he said to me
through a deck of cards, “MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, no piano songs, and
PCN-550. Here is what I have for PCN-550,
my wonderful believers:
(DREAM)
(DISCO) (DRUNK) (MARK MOHR ESCAPES DAWN KING) (DECEMBER, 2009)
(YANCY) (GONNA' GET ALONG WITHOUT YOU) (TWO-THOUSAND-ONE)
(TWO-THOUSAND-SIX) (VIQUEEN JEWELLY) (JAMES PATTERSON) (DONNA
PATTERSON) (THREE-HUNDRED-THIRTY-THREE) (AWAKE) (CHRIST) ('YOU'LL BE
CROSSING OVER' SONG) (MC ''SPELLED-OUT'' AND HER PEOPLE)
Does
anybody see why I chose December of 2009 to escape the great
wonderful Dawn-Marie King? Also, if you need a refresher course in
operating the GAWNUM, I'll re-explain it shortly, but you probably
can access it all easy enough, it is all through my SAFE JOURNAL
chapter blogs. Is another freaking WOW in order, Mister
mike???????????????????
Thank
you lovely BABY-BLOND for coming to visit with me today, lovely one.
Your lightning drives me wild and beyond passionately insane. You
were so good to me today, ever since awakening from the experience
that you promised to share with me, and did, and I---W---A---L---U,
BEG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
that the big boys on wall Street took their profits for a couple of
days, the DJIA will be heading right back up again. There is no
mystery to any of this, only none of you have bothered to ever pay
any attention to stuff, and ''they'' just love that, my friends. I
won't always post the stock charts on every blog, so to check, you
just simply click on blogs that are on the right margin that say
chapter-95 or 93, and there are others.
Well
people, maybe it is time to tell you a few little items that I have
been keeping underneath my tin foil. First, I talked some time back
about how a lady was quite determined to make me change automobiles,
from my 1994 Saturn to a 1997 Plymouth Breeze that needed no
hall-less interconnecting rooms from 2008, or Public Housing
Buildings of the second decade of the twenty-first century, to make
doors slam. Good old Mizz Pote. Just yards away from her office after
she was long gone as she was only there to get me to get rid of my
time car from Haddon Township High School of 1966-1968, I was with a
girl named Margie, a friend of Dawn's friend Cuba, only then in late
2000 or early 2001; I did not yet know that either of these women
existed on Planet Earth or anywhere else for that matter. This is
where something beyond weird happened to my Breeze car, just yards
from where it was on a lot and bought by me a few years prior,
Richard Mindhacks. Before we were on this Oaklyn, New Jersey side
street, we were at the residence fairly recently moved into by me,
the trailer, #10 at the Mullica Mobile Manor on the Julia White Horse
Pike AKA 'Soon-Will-Be-30-30', with or without any Viagra tablets in
hyperspace exploration. Saying just this much will probably get me,
as my pal Mister Barkley would say it so well, “an ass whooping”!
Oh well, we all get yo yo'd and bounced around from time to time, and
town to town, with or without any help from VOID-PROPHETS, or Miss
Lee 4 Teens Pharmaceutical Corporations from the late
nineteen-eighties. You may laugh now, MMCN sir! Then along came you,
right MIDDIE, and then there always seemed to be endless initials
that never go away. Still when the Copyright Office and those who
have examined my files, can figure out how I could know about 19
years coming and going from the time that song was written, unless
the great rocket man himself was in on this all along, and forgetting
the Camden park and Red John Henningsen and just remembering the
brutal horrific attack on me by WOMO over a year ago in a parallel
universe, all blogged and told about; well, then you all just go and
rationalize this all you want to. I know when I've been hit, and I
know when everything has gone up permanently in flames, without any
berries or nuts or songs or low sounds or piano rumbling, so there,
ladies and gentlemen. That is it in a Madonna-shell, if I am at
liberty to quote Mister Roth from some time ago, underneath Diana's
large lines, in East Atlantic County on that hot summer afternoon in
1998, if memory is serving me at all, let alone correctly, YO. The
straw that broke the camel's proverbial back with Eddie calling me
the nickname of 'District Of Columbia', in its initials, was enjoyed
by someone watching the Mark Truman Mohr Late Late 2 Late Astral
Night Show, right lovely SSJKK? Still, let me curse and swear at
people like the sumo wrestler juvenile or those other pig kids in
Hammonton, both at WAWA from the scummy high school football team as
well as the younger smaller gang that harassed peeps at the food
store shopping areas. There is so, much more going on folks, than
what is appearing at just a Pedersen surface level, that most folks
insist on seeing and only seeing, placing them in such darkness. The
group that has been following me around since 1967 give or take,
since the Quoddy Mocker Girl-Gang of Atlantic City raped me in the
Trinidad, now SUPER-8 hotel ''CHAIN'', in that same year in late
June; and was all planned out by my Aunt and her friend the Shah, and
his family and countrymen for three thousand years, which was days to
them when they all access the McGuire Parking Lot, on either side,
but let us get more specific here with this. The old photo slide show
from the now defunct Morianity-Foundation website, showed an event
from the west lot, but the Bolivar Karge Hotel was once standing
where the east lot is today. This is where I ran into Paula Roofdog
King, on the twelfth day in July, of 1997; 27 years to the day from
when we ran into each other on a public transit New Jersey bus
system, right at the Atlantic City Bus Terminal, then at the location
of Baltic and Arkansas Avenues, near the start of the great Atlantic
City Expressway. It is also where the great Mary gave me the long
evil eye stare, in front of her son John, brother of Photeous, that
day in the summer of 1997 that was maybe two or three weeks later on
after seeing Paula talking to the security gate-man at the lot now
rented or leased to the Casinos, by the wealthy branch of the Kings.
That kind of evil eye and stare-down when I did nothing at all to
warrant it; tells me all I ever need to know about this putrid family
from Hay-Dee's.
Dave
begged me not to try and fight this horrible family, back in 1998. At
first when this was all new in 1995, he loved it, and grew only more
intense and excited over the prospect of discovering the secrets of
this wild and mysterious family from beyond the fucking stars. But
shortly as time passed along, he changed, and never ever was the old
Dave again, whom I had known back in the eighties ever since meeting
him in early November of 1985 at the Caldor Department Store in
Woodbury Heights in New Jersey, as fellow security officers. The
biggest secret in all of this is that it all is nothing but a game,
and the owner of the game is no different on a grand cosmic scale,
than would be for example, the owner of a normal video game here on
Earth, some random teenage we could call Tory Frederick Mulligan
Junior, who just went to a Target or a Walmart store, and made a
purchase, only this would be 100 years from now or dam near, and the
game would be quite advanced, again, you really do need to get the
movie called, “Lawnmower Man 2”. Someone reminded me again today,
that nothing I am doing can work, because to the 'sane world', true
as my entire nightmare tale of mother fucking woe may be, is and will
be always just dismissed as the ravings and rantings of a total
mad-man lunatic. In essence, and in a compressed and abridged tell
all story, I will fail at telling the story of Morianity at C-SQ. In
non mathematical terms, I've already fucking failed before I even
suited up and grabbed a typewriter and some paper. It is no different
that with the physical death of any of us. It is already a fixed and
rigid unalterable event. If you go nuts from hearing these very
words, as did Joe Paget that day up at the Roadway Trucking place at
CL Road and Route 309 in Pennsylvania, and you shoot yourself right
now; it was not my words that made you do it, you just were someplace
where your death needed to happen. If you were not there, you may
have been 1000 miles away, and you would have been hit by a truck
that went out of control while the driver fell asleep at the wheel.
If not this, you may have been in a deep basement, and touched the
wrong wire and got yourself electrocuted. If it was YOUR TIME to wake
up from your current dream-down off of the Astral-Plane, you will, no
matter how the events around you may need to work themselves out in
order to accomplish this. This is the cosmic Motive-Goal program,
that will eventually be turned into a Gates Software System, and
downing this by one dimension, someday we will type a desire or a
goal into our personal computer, and the system will just go to work
and not stop, doing whatever it needs to do, until your command goal
is accomplished, or the machine blows up attempting to fulfill your
request. Don't even try and worry about figuring this all out folks.
I am in this fucking nightmare, and am just as far today, from
figuring it all out, as I was on the day it all seemed to begin, the
day following a very bad and stupid move on my part in 1986, to make
an I-O of the great SSJKK and try and destroy this great being. But
what did I know in fucking 1986, so try and be a little forgiving, as
the old country tune goes, whether you ever felt lonely or sad or
naught, Miss Blake, old AT&T friend from older tears and years,
and if we add in Kirsty stealing Alley, Cheers and beers. If we
further add in Tom Reale and the Callio clan, we could keep right on
rhyming this with fears, queers, and jeers, and should you throw
cousin Donald into the mix, we could even add jets, but to make it
rhyme, we would change that to Leers and steers. Hopefully, the rotor
will break when he is on board, the next time, huh Camden County
Prosecutor of New Jersey, and
is a freaking WOW needed?
SLAM
SLAM BANG, MY CUNT EATING NABES FROM HELL ARE REAL BAD AGAIN, I WILL
KEEP RIGHT ON COMPLAINING TO THE OFFICE AND WRITING LETTERS. IF THEY
DO NOT STOP IT AFTER 12 MIDNIGHT IN TWO AND A HALF HOURS, I WILL CALL
911 AND INSIST ON SOME HELP!
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.
///////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
KEYBOARDS FROM PETA-HELL ®
MARK
WAYNE MOHR--------1980, ALL BLOGS © 2006-2013
Now
remember, this chart will move during the hours of 9:30 AM and 4:00
PM, not in live action, but you can snap off and back onto the blog,
and every few minutes, the chart will update, ahhh these leevely ol
leprechauns, maitees. Technology can be wonderful me frensl,
speeshally ween its on your side of the fight,
5555555555555555555555555555555555555
THIS
IS MORIANITY,
PART FIVE,
AND PLEASE BELIEVERS
AND L-4 FOLKS,
TRY AND HAVE
YOURSELVES
A VERY
VERY NICE DAY.
YOU
ARE CONTINUING
TO READ CHAPTER
00096.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Doors,
doors, doors, doors, Public Housing
Authority, my letter to you, and the
two others mentioned; will be on your desks most likely by end of
business this week, or next Monday at the latest. I am living with
dirt bag welfare rats that have numerous peeps in that apartment at
all hours of the day and night who will shout and make noise also at
any hour they so choose to do, and if this is not the typical
behavior of area drug cartels, I will eat my rug with dog stink on
it, at the speed of light squared.
OK
Lads, Lassies, Labbers, and Lab Dogs AKA (L-4), and as my
introduction on an old drum music track from the eighties and
copyrighted by me also long back, says in my own voice, before the
first drum sounds, “HERE WE GO”.
THIS
IS A RE-PRINT FROM THE DARK SAHDOWY PAST OF MY PITIFUL MISERABLE
NIGHTMARE MONSTER HORRENDOUS LIFE OF ENDLESS STRIFE AND WOE!
Friday, August 25, 2006
Morianity Bible, The Epilogue:
Enemies,
who R they? They are any situation made up of a pure energy that is
unidentifiable by mortal man as yet in 2K6. Anything, anyone, any
possible situation, causing U or me, more harm than good, more bad
and sad than happy, U get the idea, this is ‘the
enemy’ and Christians can use one or a group of several
names when referring to this enemy, but I say only, ‘the
ENEMY’.
My friends in the real estate and travel game, and one in particular, is looking into where I need to go in the world, where I can reduce the evil effects of this enemy; and B able simultaneously, to live and exist on my fixed social security income. Until then, still from here, I will direct U to follow the MB after U read the epilogue, by clicking onto the second blog, called [ MORIANITY FOUNDATION ].
A child can C that has been faithfully following MORIANITY, and knows what I go through with these rotten runtslapping subskummites, that for the past 3 weeks, these dirtballs have put my puny pathetic little fatass through a hell that would be unconscionable even for Adolph Hitler, himself, and I mean this. No human without outer influence, by his or her self, even Mr. Hitler; could ever B this totally cruel to another, whom wears the same coat of flesh as they do!!!!!
This is obviously Y the stock stinking market has been getting its way, and the Phillies kept from ever getting into the wild-card. When they get close, 1, 2, or 3 games back GB so to speak from winning position, the enemy POURS ON THE FRIGGIN ROCKCHUCKING PERSECUTION, AND STOPS THEM DEAD IN THEIR TRACKS EVERY SINGLE BUNTTAPPING TIME. They made yesterday, the 24th of August, a horrific hell; major chopper attacks, over my residence, following me to the Hammonton Wall Mart, U name it; they efed with me. But I am not even starting to tell what they do 2 me on weekends @ my security job post. The aerial persecution is major and constant, and many strange and spurious occurrences are the norm for me. Someone in government circles, another famous ‘promise breaking story I can endlessly tell’, reneged and would not do something promised me earlier, that they would have someone actually sit with me, and C 4 themselves; the shitsapookna that I must endure at the hands of these knock puckers. No, just leave me out in the cold to fend 4 myself, and endlessly suffer in a hell that U simply put, could never even fathom for all the pick six lotto numbers in the winning pool.
Last Saturday morning on this job post around one and a half of the clock, give or take a quarter hour, I had a real honest to the gods UFO situation, and this never was witnessed by me before, not like this. Any craft flying in the air, that U don’t know who and what it is, is by definition, an unidentified flying object, but though in the past 22 years or so give or take, I have seen some mildly bizarre crap up in the sky, this happening could have an entire book written about it; and if I lie, I accept full pain and penalty of perjury, and any and all punitation, that this material world, and all astral worlds; both transdimensionally, and inter-dimensionally; can ever throw at me; on top of all my hell, that exists 4 me; endlessly and forever. Most will not believe a word that I will now speak unto U. If I sat U down and said that I want 2 tell U something, but you'll never believe me, and U kept insisting that U will believe me; then I would say 2 U, if U do not believe me in a little thing that I say, does it not prove and verify that U will not believe the bigger thing? Then U may say, what little thing am I not believing? I then would respond, “when I tell U that U won’t believe what I say”. Think about it, there is magic energy in doubting; just as magical energies exist in this short pun. In any event, out of nowhere, a loud and very low chopper with many bright and numerously colored lights shinning around both in circles, as well as straight downward at the ground, and it hovered and circled around me making several loud and spurious passes directly over me and my car, as I work out of my car, and will, until the boss builds us a guardhouse, which is a plan in work at present. Aniwho, rabies and germs, Morians and Lessians, I feel the need to state again to all of my readers, or maybe just to an empty cyberspace, that what follows next, has, nor won’t soon have, nor B able to yield an Earthly explanation. After ten minutes of fudging with me, it flew off to the north, and towards the city of Hammonton. I followed it with the naked eye as long as I thought I would B able 2 do so. After 3 or 4 minutes, it appeared to stop dead in its tracks and just hover over the city area, moving back and forth east and west over slighter distances, and eventually just totally stopping dead, but shinning its lights brighter and brighter, and the colors faded a bit due to distance, but still were visible to the naked eye. I keep a tape recorder at all times, and was logging the event or so I thought I was, on a cassette tape, but it never came out. A brand new store bought tape, recording on a new and recently cleaned with isopropal alcohol and demagnetization cassette; had wrapped up in the capstan mechanism of the tape machine; and I was talking only to myself, not friggin' recording anything. Later my watched gained 45 minutes over the course of an hour, and an explosion sound was heard when I started my car, but the mechanic on the following Monday, again and as usual; could find no Earthly reason for it, nor a thing mechanically wrong with the auto other than its being old and crying out for a good car-Christian burial. R U ready 4 the big one Mister Fred Sanford????? After 20 minutes from when the chopper flew off and stopped bothering and circling me, dead zenith above me, it became, yes BECAME, a pulsar star of the heavens, in fact, the bright one that we all C on clear nights, that if U stare at it; flashes with every color in the rainbow; and is bright and in varying luminous intensity. The star itself, which is an astral city called HYDRAGLACIA, far beyond the province of Olympia on the Astral Plane, literally came to me, in the shape and sound of a military helicopter; and then within less than half of a human hour; traversed thousands of light years of distance, and returned to being the astral city again. All physical plane stars, are huge cities, with great populations in the trillions, on astral realms; as if enough citizens all decide to merge into a particular piece of interaction of Astrality, they do; and now I know this 4 a fact. I also know with the same absolute knowledge and fervor, and total certainty; that an ETTOSIAN force is behind my not getting one person; not 1 lousy person with clout, who sees a huge lawsuit in all of this, after scanning through MB. These enemies of mine all have very deep pockets, and have committed unconscionable acts of violence, property damage, social and human destruction, against me, a totally pathetic whittle innocent victim, as I swear to the gods that I never did anything 2 any one 2 deserve this. B real, if they had something big on me, legitimately, I would have long been sued for libel and slander, and prosecuted criminally. I’ve done nothing. I’m guilty of no more than being a victim of some atrocious low-ego emission cult activity. Art Bell, who now is retired, said on Philadelphia talk radio, the big talker 1210 Amplitude Modulation, on 1.21 megahertz, that there R bored-2-tears people especially in the Los Angelis, Cali area, of the USA; that get approached by 'someone, most likely fortune tenners', and all fortune 10 through 50, are LAMIST CULTERS, and they get shown ways of really playing evil games, and hurting people; that have been targeted for their amusement and pleasure; nothing personal, to harass, and persecute us. The few of us in the large population, know who indeed we R. Medical conditions that cannot be diagnosed, come to U, and all those around U, deer to U; major constant interference with radio, TV, computer operations, or anything electrical, and mechanical; always seems to go wrong and or act up in some way. People mess with U on the road, way more than the average driver is messed with. All products U normally buy in stores, get harder to get, as flash-mobs buy up the stuff that U like, and the list goes literally on and on, but again; we of the harassed, know who we are, and we are not RANDOMIZED JOESHMO SYNDROME CASES. The black cloud over our heads is being put there, by the filthy dirty lowlife trash that are referred to in MORIANITY BIBLE by their true cult name of 'LAMIST'. Dark Shadows refers 2 them precisely, but changes the name to LEVIATHANS, and this still got the greatest soap-show of all time, canceled; so who really has the power, huh? Who love’s ya, Telly????
They threw me off of MYSPACE.COM, if I ain’t mistaken. I was told I do not seem to B there, by some acquaintances, and 2-day, upon looking myself; I only get a strange pop-up screen when I put in my code and E-mail info. Gonna' write to civil liberties, as this will play right into my hands, once I indeed do confirm that I am not legally permitted to tell my true story, when others are allowed, and I am expressing religious beliefs, and telling of horrific deeds that have been done 2 me; that totally are in violation of law, my civil liberties, and constitutional rights, as a citizen born in the United States of America. I have done nothing wrong. First I am interested only in women, well beyond the legal age. Multiply it by 3 quite realistically, and I do not support anything subversive, anti-government, violent, or terroristic. Taken out of contest, anybody's damn words and message can be misconstrued and misunderstood. One example is when I say on a chapter somewhere in July I believe, that if U actually knew what I did for a fact, the way that I do; concerning and regarding the Lamists, you would go out and obliterate them, and u would. I have seen mob lynchings, and 2006 is no more civilized than 1806. It is just way more regulated, way less free; and much farther from when Mister Lewis and Mister Clark made the Louisiana Purchase. There is no runt slapping humor here babywuv, I’m dead-ass serious. No one has any legal right to shut me up or shut me down, and I will fucking take this all the way 2 the Supreme Court, before the 9 Justices. I’m not playing. U will not stop me, as I am doing no wrong, wrong is being constantly done 2 me, and I have every right to try and get it exposed 2 the world.
Lamists R the 1’s that should B thrown the Christ into jail, not innocents, and poor weak frail persons like me; with no resources in the world, to fight these dick in the mouths back, on their level; in this very Unfair, and Unlevel playing field, of this land of FAKE JUSTICE, real only for the rich, right Jack McCoy????????? So MB is now over, but my attempts to begin my MORIANITY FOUNDATION, have only just begun, Ms. Carpenter. Luv is for more than her, great Sarah-Stacey. Your son taught us 200 decades ago, it should B4 all of us, as in your great city, where love flows free; and no one would think of using words like orgy. Your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Krassle, told me many times; there R no marriages in Sahasra Dal Kanwal, we all love all. Yet they turn around and chase me away from my beautiful lovely queen, and then your kid calls the human pharisees a bunch of hypocrites. Jeese, I guess I am not yet old enough to understand a lot of things, I am only eternity. Well, anyway, click on MORIANITY FOUNDATION, to read my next blog, after going of course to www.blogger.com/ and you’ll watch something grow, bigger than a forest of Redwood trees. Someday, all I need will B 1 person with power and clout, who has niceness and goodness in their isness of being somewhere; instead of Trumpism, Reaganism, and Lamistism; all 3 very wide astral highways that lead straight into regions of Dogtown, a place U do not want any part of, across the great Teck Bay, from the great city of the great Queen Sarah-Stacey. A final footnote that my guru brought 2 my attention 3 weeks ago, and must B now cleared up. He said that many people may get the idea that I am an internet perv or predator, whatever, just since I am old, and talk so much about ‘teen-queens’. I reminded him, as I now remind both my Morians and my Lessians alike, to do the friggin math, for the sake of the gods. My teen queens are the women of today, the grandmothers. They were teens when your stupid calendar was reading [the sixties], get your minds out of the sewers of France, I am no perv, and am no more interested in women much under 60, than I am interested in eating loose dog shit. Cut me a break, please, and then go to the MORIANITY FOUNDATION, and this is 25 August of 2K6, so remember, it is just starting. Happy Hacker reading, and keep driving on parkways and parking on driveways, and watch out for ettosianism. The original STAR TREK creator, MR. G.R., knew this was real; and got it all in through the back door, calling the aliens pertaining to what I am talking about, the Tallosions. Happy 40th anniversary Trekkers, Trek on, rock on, and enemies beware, I will get all of U, and legally and properly, but like the Swiffer Mop, I will get you, get you, get U, and that is a promise, that you may B forewarned of right now.
Bye-Bye for now, big KAL.
My friends in the real estate and travel game, and one in particular, is looking into where I need to go in the world, where I can reduce the evil effects of this enemy; and B able simultaneously, to live and exist on my fixed social security income. Until then, still from here, I will direct U to follow the MB after U read the epilogue, by clicking onto the second blog, called [ MORIANITY FOUNDATION ].
A child can C that has been faithfully following MORIANITY, and knows what I go through with these rotten runtslapping subskummites, that for the past 3 weeks, these dirtballs have put my puny pathetic little fatass through a hell that would be unconscionable even for Adolph Hitler, himself, and I mean this. No human without outer influence, by his or her self, even Mr. Hitler; could ever B this totally cruel to another, whom wears the same coat of flesh as they do!!!!!
This is obviously Y the stock stinking market has been getting its way, and the Phillies kept from ever getting into the wild-card. When they get close, 1, 2, or 3 games back GB so to speak from winning position, the enemy POURS ON THE FRIGGIN ROCKCHUCKING PERSECUTION, AND STOPS THEM DEAD IN THEIR TRACKS EVERY SINGLE BUNTTAPPING TIME. They made yesterday, the 24th of August, a horrific hell; major chopper attacks, over my residence, following me to the Hammonton Wall Mart, U name it; they efed with me. But I am not even starting to tell what they do 2 me on weekends @ my security job post. The aerial persecution is major and constant, and many strange and spurious occurrences are the norm for me. Someone in government circles, another famous ‘promise breaking story I can endlessly tell’, reneged and would not do something promised me earlier, that they would have someone actually sit with me, and C 4 themselves; the shitsapookna that I must endure at the hands of these knock puckers. No, just leave me out in the cold to fend 4 myself, and endlessly suffer in a hell that U simply put, could never even fathom for all the pick six lotto numbers in the winning pool.
Last Saturday morning on this job post around one and a half of the clock, give or take a quarter hour, I had a real honest to the gods UFO situation, and this never was witnessed by me before, not like this. Any craft flying in the air, that U don’t know who and what it is, is by definition, an unidentified flying object, but though in the past 22 years or so give or take, I have seen some mildly bizarre crap up in the sky, this happening could have an entire book written about it; and if I lie, I accept full pain and penalty of perjury, and any and all punitation, that this material world, and all astral worlds; both transdimensionally, and inter-dimensionally; can ever throw at me; on top of all my hell, that exists 4 me; endlessly and forever. Most will not believe a word that I will now speak unto U. If I sat U down and said that I want 2 tell U something, but you'll never believe me, and U kept insisting that U will believe me; then I would say 2 U, if U do not believe me in a little thing that I say, does it not prove and verify that U will not believe the bigger thing? Then U may say, what little thing am I not believing? I then would respond, “when I tell U that U won’t believe what I say”. Think about it, there is magic energy in doubting; just as magical energies exist in this short pun. In any event, out of nowhere, a loud and very low chopper with many bright and numerously colored lights shinning around both in circles, as well as straight downward at the ground, and it hovered and circled around me making several loud and spurious passes directly over me and my car, as I work out of my car, and will, until the boss builds us a guardhouse, which is a plan in work at present. Aniwho, rabies and germs, Morians and Lessians, I feel the need to state again to all of my readers, or maybe just to an empty cyberspace, that what follows next, has, nor won’t soon have, nor B able to yield an Earthly explanation. After ten minutes of fudging with me, it flew off to the north, and towards the city of Hammonton. I followed it with the naked eye as long as I thought I would B able 2 do so. After 3 or 4 minutes, it appeared to stop dead in its tracks and just hover over the city area, moving back and forth east and west over slighter distances, and eventually just totally stopping dead, but shinning its lights brighter and brighter, and the colors faded a bit due to distance, but still were visible to the naked eye. I keep a tape recorder at all times, and was logging the event or so I thought I was, on a cassette tape, but it never came out. A brand new store bought tape, recording on a new and recently cleaned with isopropal alcohol and demagnetization cassette; had wrapped up in the capstan mechanism of the tape machine; and I was talking only to myself, not friggin' recording anything. Later my watched gained 45 minutes over the course of an hour, and an explosion sound was heard when I started my car, but the mechanic on the following Monday, again and as usual; could find no Earthly reason for it, nor a thing mechanically wrong with the auto other than its being old and crying out for a good car-Christian burial. R U ready 4 the big one Mister Fred Sanford????? After 20 minutes from when the chopper flew off and stopped bothering and circling me, dead zenith above me, it became, yes BECAME, a pulsar star of the heavens, in fact, the bright one that we all C on clear nights, that if U stare at it; flashes with every color in the rainbow; and is bright and in varying luminous intensity. The star itself, which is an astral city called HYDRAGLACIA, far beyond the province of Olympia on the Astral Plane, literally came to me, in the shape and sound of a military helicopter; and then within less than half of a human hour; traversed thousands of light years of distance, and returned to being the astral city again. All physical plane stars, are huge cities, with great populations in the trillions, on astral realms; as if enough citizens all decide to merge into a particular piece of interaction of Astrality, they do; and now I know this 4 a fact. I also know with the same absolute knowledge and fervor, and total certainty; that an ETTOSIAN force is behind my not getting one person; not 1 lousy person with clout, who sees a huge lawsuit in all of this, after scanning through MB. These enemies of mine all have very deep pockets, and have committed unconscionable acts of violence, property damage, social and human destruction, against me, a totally pathetic whittle innocent victim, as I swear to the gods that I never did anything 2 any one 2 deserve this. B real, if they had something big on me, legitimately, I would have long been sued for libel and slander, and prosecuted criminally. I’ve done nothing. I’m guilty of no more than being a victim of some atrocious low-ego emission cult activity. Art Bell, who now is retired, said on Philadelphia talk radio, the big talker 1210 Amplitude Modulation, on 1.21 megahertz, that there R bored-2-tears people especially in the Los Angelis, Cali area, of the USA; that get approached by 'someone, most likely fortune tenners', and all fortune 10 through 50, are LAMIST CULTERS, and they get shown ways of really playing evil games, and hurting people; that have been targeted for their amusement and pleasure; nothing personal, to harass, and persecute us. The few of us in the large population, know who indeed we R. Medical conditions that cannot be diagnosed, come to U, and all those around U, deer to U; major constant interference with radio, TV, computer operations, or anything electrical, and mechanical; always seems to go wrong and or act up in some way. People mess with U on the road, way more than the average driver is messed with. All products U normally buy in stores, get harder to get, as flash-mobs buy up the stuff that U like, and the list goes literally on and on, but again; we of the harassed, know who we are, and we are not RANDOMIZED JOESHMO SYNDROME CASES. The black cloud over our heads is being put there, by the filthy dirty lowlife trash that are referred to in MORIANITY BIBLE by their true cult name of 'LAMIST'. Dark Shadows refers 2 them precisely, but changes the name to LEVIATHANS, and this still got the greatest soap-show of all time, canceled; so who really has the power, huh? Who love’s ya, Telly????
They threw me off of MYSPACE.COM, if I ain’t mistaken. I was told I do not seem to B there, by some acquaintances, and 2-day, upon looking myself; I only get a strange pop-up screen when I put in my code and E-mail info. Gonna' write to civil liberties, as this will play right into my hands, once I indeed do confirm that I am not legally permitted to tell my true story, when others are allowed, and I am expressing religious beliefs, and telling of horrific deeds that have been done 2 me; that totally are in violation of law, my civil liberties, and constitutional rights, as a citizen born in the United States of America. I have done nothing wrong. First I am interested only in women, well beyond the legal age. Multiply it by 3 quite realistically, and I do not support anything subversive, anti-government, violent, or terroristic. Taken out of contest, anybody's damn words and message can be misconstrued and misunderstood. One example is when I say on a chapter somewhere in July I believe, that if U actually knew what I did for a fact, the way that I do; concerning and regarding the Lamists, you would go out and obliterate them, and u would. I have seen mob lynchings, and 2006 is no more civilized than 1806. It is just way more regulated, way less free; and much farther from when Mister Lewis and Mister Clark made the Louisiana Purchase. There is no runt slapping humor here babywuv, I’m dead-ass serious. No one has any legal right to shut me up or shut me down, and I will fucking take this all the way 2 the Supreme Court, before the 9 Justices. I’m not playing. U will not stop me, as I am doing no wrong, wrong is being constantly done 2 me, and I have every right to try and get it exposed 2 the world.
Lamists R the 1’s that should B thrown the Christ into jail, not innocents, and poor weak frail persons like me; with no resources in the world, to fight these dick in the mouths back, on their level; in this very Unfair, and Unlevel playing field, of this land of FAKE JUSTICE, real only for the rich, right Jack McCoy????????? So MB is now over, but my attempts to begin my MORIANITY FOUNDATION, have only just begun, Ms. Carpenter. Luv is for more than her, great Sarah-Stacey. Your son taught us 200 decades ago, it should B4 all of us, as in your great city, where love flows free; and no one would think of using words like orgy. Your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Krassle, told me many times; there R no marriages in Sahasra Dal Kanwal, we all love all. Yet they turn around and chase me away from my beautiful lovely queen, and then your kid calls the human pharisees a bunch of hypocrites. Jeese, I guess I am not yet old enough to understand a lot of things, I am only eternity. Well, anyway, click on MORIANITY FOUNDATION, to read my next blog, after going of course to www.blogger.com/ and you’ll watch something grow, bigger than a forest of Redwood trees. Someday, all I need will B 1 person with power and clout, who has niceness and goodness in their isness of being somewhere; instead of Trumpism, Reaganism, and Lamistism; all 3 very wide astral highways that lead straight into regions of Dogtown, a place U do not want any part of, across the great Teck Bay, from the great city of the great Queen Sarah-Stacey. A final footnote that my guru brought 2 my attention 3 weeks ago, and must B now cleared up. He said that many people may get the idea that I am an internet perv or predator, whatever, just since I am old, and talk so much about ‘teen-queens’. I reminded him, as I now remind both my Morians and my Lessians alike, to do the friggin math, for the sake of the gods. My teen queens are the women of today, the grandmothers. They were teens when your stupid calendar was reading [the sixties], get your minds out of the sewers of France, I am no perv, and am no more interested in women much under 60, than I am interested in eating loose dog shit. Cut me a break, please, and then go to the MORIANITY FOUNDATION, and this is 25 August of 2K6, so remember, it is just starting. Happy Hacker reading, and keep driving on parkways and parking on driveways, and watch out for ettosianism. The original STAR TREK creator, MR. G.R., knew this was real; and got it all in through the back door, calling the aliens pertaining to what I am talking about, the Tallosions. Happy 40th anniversary Trekkers, Trek on, rock on, and enemies beware, I will get all of U, and legally and properly, but like the Swiffer Mop, I will get you, get you, get U, and that is a promise, that you may B forewarned of right now.
Bye-Bye for now, big KAL.
TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS
are people who are dreaming. They have a body asleep in a bed, the
same as you and me; only you and me for the very most part, are
considered by them to be, mere TYPE-1-EXPLORATRONS (T-1-E), verses
them being (T-3-E). Let me shorten it please, good folks and MB's,
(Morianity-Believers), thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LSS,
they can willingly choose to walk into the lives of their doubles or
(doppelgangers) in parallel realities or (transdimensional universes)
in the vast fifth dimensional hyperspace. This is no joking matter,
MC's mother is the greatest T-3-E in the known multiverse, and so of
course is MC, and also, the third part of their awesomeness, designer
and architect master of the entire system below the sixth dimensional
MIND REALM ITSELF, the (6-TH-Dimension), and this would be the
subatomic particle that decides what to make any and every element in
existence, simply by dancing around a little orbit or circle, in a
certain cool way, a private coded way as a matter of fact, only
without any need of creating the International Mobile Machines
Corporation, in order to do so. In fact, this process, as all
processes; are reversed here. Truth seems to insist upon coming to
humans awake here, in total reverse. It really does InSISt upon this,
and there is nothing wrong with your television set, or my keyboard
back there, but we are no where near the maxed out outer limits of
telling the entire story of everything. In fact, it can never be
told. It is that incredible, and that times the power of infinity.
Now say 'screw that', and you, by pure mathematics; ARE SCREWED! To
be able to transform yourself to even a T-2-E, the in-between stage
before beginning to be able to do the great feats of the great
ISIS-MIDDIE-SCYLLA-SSJKKIMS, or just for an easy to pronounce
grouping of letters; we can say, Sajikems, funny; sort of like the
Next Generation Star Trek, and Nikki Cox; that adorable little alien
child, and Mister Data Android's friend, Sarjenka. Do I hear another
W-O-W,
as if not, I am typing to dead people, and I thought that I was
fucking dead and maggots? Yes Microsoft Spell-Checker, I do not know
just how ''saint-like'' all of this talk is, but I do have powerful
knowledge, straight from the fucking astral heavens; to impart to
this cave age world; and that times a million more, that never ever
will be fully told. It is totally endless folks, and I promise a lot
more than lovely MO; and congrats on all that weight loss. You go
lovely girl, and don't let git bag distant cuzz Donnie boy fire you.
Tell him I'll kick his face off if he
does!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But
getting back to just a few things on today's whittle bwog folks,
before any of you call me a total kook whack job, if I am not on the
level, why is the biggest entertainment giant checking me out? Take a
hard look here, and see it for yourselves. Then refresh the page and
click into the system and go back into this page, that will now be
pasted in; and see that I did not paste it in. It is there, on the
official records. I am not some dam nut, despite the government
InSISting on paying me monthly, for being one my friends, month after
month; and just 'how many times' all notwithstanding, on all days on
or off of 10/05/2008. Sure, you can all lie to
yourselves from here to
Harold Camping's next bullshit predicted doomsday, and beyond. The
last laugh of the McNulty Club belongs to myself, and perhaps, Mister
Icabod Crane as well, right © Office???
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WELL,
I TOLD YOU ALL THE STOCK MARKET WOULD FLY FLY FLY FLY FLY, AND IT
DID, JUST LIKE THE OL' PROPHET OF FUCKING NOTHING SAID THAT IT WOULD,
RIGHT LOVELY GIANT GINA FROM THE NINETIES, BABY????????
No
don't ever listen to poor persecuted fucked up MOUNTAINPEN, He
doesn't know his sick twisted fucking cunt ass from a dam hole in the
mother fucking ground does he Paul whackadoodle Pedersen,
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE???
But
it's time to move this on with the dream-controllers. It is old news
for old followers of MORIANITY, to hear the basic stuff, so for
newbies to this blog, I will repeat older stuff later, this is a more
advanced lesson that continues on from all of the previous
left-off-points, for right now, YO! The T-3-E is able to not only
dominate and become the controller of the double of themselves, but
eventually can leave that part of the dream in a parallel world, and
go onto attach into animals and other people not their own double.
Also, with patience and practice, it gets far better, as they can
stay in someone while they go off to sleep and follow them into their
dreams, only still in full control, now of two worlds, and then 3,
and 4, and so on, and there are several already known cases discussed
in 2294 up in World Labs, of 15 people in deep coma type trances for
years, who have become either stuck or else have chosen to be where
they are, stuck however, if they have forgotten the exact way back
out of the control-maze. You cannot just move three dreams and
universes away and then in one, just come out of it and back here.
You will not get this powerful information from any other source on
the internet or any other place above or below ground on this entire
planet. Now we all have participated in a little 'accidental' T-3-E'
activity in our life, aware of it or not, remember some do not even
recall dreaming at all or hardly ever; but my point is that, unless
they are the ones intentionally doing it, they are just caught up in
some real T-3-E who is causing them to be the recessant who they are
the dominant entity over, and for whatever reason, you managed a tiny
bit of control over things if only just to the point of some memory
of the experience upon 'awakening' from 'slumber'. There are no
limits to what these T-3-E can do, they are called by me, T-3-E, they
are called by all NON-MORIAMS, the GODS, or the ET aliens/travelers,
but in real truth, and I think the NSA and the top military brass
know this, it is all just a huge parlor game, played by those who
have managed to become extremely adept at nocturnal control over
hyperspace, the virtually limitless region of four dimensional
space-time universes, all containing quintillions of Planet Earths,
only not more worlds, but this one Earth, in different locations in
each of the hyperspace's 4th
dimension, or TIME. A really advanced T-3-E can create a giant air
vessel, I do it all the time myself and go around bombing out my
enemies, and then afterwards, comes the powerful storms and quakes,
and many other things. I am not proud of what I do, and there is a
lot more to it. Still, I do admit, that power corrupts, and I would
not want any more than I already have, I have no desire to be a full
member in their club, or part of the ES, the great EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND. When you are, you will understand however, how to do
anything you want, with the only limitations being when you return to
your own physical waking life. You see all the powerful wealthy
successful people, from lottery winners to great stars of screen and
music, and all of it, they really have other identities elsewhere,
and they can enjoy their dreams right here, but there are places
where these great gods really do awaken into a world of drudgery,
their REAL WORLDS, where you or I for all we know may be their boss,
and be treating them like shit all day while they clean toilets and
get honked off the freeway while dead tired and trying to drive home
in major traffic congestion, to a nagging spouse, and rammy annoying
children, greeting them screaming in their ear. Guess what, ISIS just
looked over my shoulder and is not happy with my blog, telling too
much, it flashed off, but on the dam screen came the words in front
of my typing, FBI, “THAT-BOY-STOP
TELLING SO MUCH”.
I re-typed it, it came out in font about that size, in bright red,
underlined and slanted. The second it flashed on, it flashed off, and
then my phone rang with the following number on it, 1888-226-1843.
When I checked after the ringing stopped, no message was left on the
voicemail. However, and get ready to remember the days I lived up in
the fucking hood when BOO called me from the Rock Road County Jail
here in my county, Saint Lucie County Jail, his number at the jail
stayed on, but guess who vanished off. Yesterday at exactly 4:11 PM,
Thursday, a call came in from out of the area, and all though my
phone is blocked not to accept a ring from anyone blocking their name
and number, just as before, when the letters “PRIVATE PERSON”
showed up when I got that call from the 650 area code in middle late
winter in twenty-eleven, a few months after the call from BOO came
in, and once the phone display showed the total number, it vanished
and could not be retrieved off of the system, and also, it displayed
in a bright pink color that should not be possible on my AT&T
Walmart telephone; and is a landline telephone. Yes, no name, no
number, just UNAVAILABLE, and it came in at 4:11, but at the very end
of the number area, was a digit, a one, only it looked a lot more
like a | than a 1. Now the record of this event has been wiped clear.
Oh lovely ISIS, I will always worship you, love you, and need you,
BUT THE GODS KNOW, I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND YOU, brown eyed girl,
KALISIS. I have known this mother-daughter-electron GODDESS by a
hundred million names, and every fucking jerk off country music
executive knows this truth about me, and knows of my song that got a
lot of fucking ass airplay back in 1998, and continued getting
foreign airplay for years until around 2004 give or take, called, and
copyrighted by me, “Eternity With Stacey”. The titles that show
up on my copyrighted project record sheet, pasted into many of my
blogs, merely are the title for an entire group of songs on the
project, many times the title track is for the main song of the group
collection, but not always. In the case of the project in middle 1986
called 'REAL GOOD GIRL', see for yourself, it was the title track,
and more songs than this were on the tape, such as PLANES, HIGHVIEW
CHEERS, and others. Also I fucked up a few months ago, and said I did
2 projects in 1983. You can see by the official Copyright Office
record, I did 3 of them, not 2; DEMO COLLECTION 4, SAGA OF SONGWRITER
MARK MUD, and UNCLE; and again, with UNCLE; the title track is for
one of an entire collection of songs on that project, and the main
one was called, “Uncles On Bending Knees”. Yes, Donald Trump, you
may indeed have a marvelous life, to quote you oh mighty buttwipe
sir, but I have a life so fantastic and unfathomable, that you would
give your daughter and your limbs and you know it you old ugly ass
hole, to truly understand me, the one who brought you here on that
magic tape recorder of mine back in when else, but I crossed over
your miserable rotten personality in 1984, give or take around there,
and you then went onto to build your first casino and take over that
rotten Atlantic City that many have called Gomorrah by the sea, and I
have labeled in my song of the 1986 project, and copyrighted, as you
know, OCEANS SODOM! And guess who just called back, ISIS, at 2:57,
with the same 'UNAVAILABLE', AND THE SAME '|' AT THE END OF THE
BOTTOM RIGHT OF THE 'ID-SCREEN'. SO TELL ME PEEPS, IS A MOTHER
FUCKING CUNT LAPPING SUPER ASS ''W---O---W''
APPROPRIATE
HERE OR 'NAUGHT', MISS AT&T BLAKE OF 1983????????????????
Here
is the situation, Inspector Louigee Kent Henderson. Nothing just
happens, all things happen for reasons, and random is merely a
disguised pattern, on a grand cosmic scale. There are math formulas
that are extremely complex that force those in the know, to in fact
realize that the words spoken here are true and accurate. These folks
cannot come out and just say this on TV, or other media sources, and
alter society in a flash. It is way too controlled for that to ever
be permitted to happen. Only certified looney folks such as myself
can say these things, and then when they do, who listens? We are all
looney, remember?
SLAM
BANG BONG BOOM ZAM, my thug neighbors are really paying homage to
KALI's GANG, huh, very informative, H-2? It's half past fucking
midnight, they don't care, just sell your drugs and have your
parties, and decent people be damned. I will tell you world, I
thought Jersey was fucked up, this Florida game down here is even
more rotten and corrupt, but in its own way, completely unlike the
northeastern areas of my earlier life. In some ways, the stuff is not
any different, as it is all part of the shit that is surrounding me,
that the new age folks and ancient-astronaut theorist folks call star
visitors/travelers/aliens/ET aliens/ etcetera; and the church and
religious faith folks call forces of darkness, demonic or satanic,
the enemy, the fall of mankind through sin and the Adam and Eve
stuff, and along that line. One thing that remains constant with me,
and that all connects up with the same truth, that different folks
merely 'believe differently in'; is the WHAT'S
MY EXCUSE
deal, that is discussed in both the new Morianity of the internet
days in this century, as well as on cassette tape back when it began
in 1995 from my apartment in Williamstown, Giant-Officer Syndrome of
Missourians, in New Jersey. This is not something invented by Tom
Cruise and his Top-Gun movie around the Prophet of Nothing days.
Hollywood stole it from me after I had originally copyrighted my
Epitome of Harassment project in the late eighties, from my residence
in Moorestown,
New Jersey,
on Central Avenue. I kind of wonder if a little Magnetic
Sound Machine
Irony is not in and through this, as a result of what I'll now be
telling you, good believers, and others. You see, back in Mullica
Township, New Jersey at the Plageman Trailer Home Park (Mullica
Mobile Manor) as it was called when I was living there and still may
be; I told the landlady how the boob neighbor next to me, Richie,
blared his TV set at all kinds of hours. Nothing was done about it
when I was the only one complaining. But when the neighbor both on
his other side, as well as the ones across from the driveway to his
trailer, also complained to her, then and only then, was it stopped,
and he was told to cut it out or move out. Same thing here in Fort
Pierce, Florida and at this PHA building. The subwoofer box was
complained about by numerous nabes, not everyone here is a druggie
thuggy, KALI, CALLIO AT&T-TEN. But when it is just the banging
doon that is right across the hallway from me and only me, I'm stuck
with it. Sure, I called the police months ago to complain about their
noise, but nothing was done, they did not answer their door, and they
merely laid low for a week or so and then resumed normal uncouth
behavior patterns. Is this supposed to come as some big shock to me,
folks? Hopefully not, as it did not. After decades of hell and shit,
I pretty much am onto exactly how most of the mechanics of my misery,
really operate and work, covertly behind all of the dam fucking
OZ-CURTAINS, Glinda and Dorothy. Not only don't I surrender, Mizz
Bondi, Florida State Attorney General, but as long as breath and life
is in this body; I will shout out and tell a whole lot more stuff. We
have not covered 5 percent of my story, and anyone thinking we have
is a fool. Morianity could stop right now or even in 2010, and enough
would have been told, so as to know that my tale of woe, is known
publicly; and adding 100 more years to it, really will not make that
much difference. Still, I will go on. Originally, I was planning to
wrap it up completely by Memorial Day, and folks, I HAVE CHANGED MY
MIND. My only weapon of fucking defense, is the power of the pen, and
the typewriter, and now so it seems; the computer, and this blogging
shit. So on we will go, most likely until the mother fucking day that
I die. As long as they can have an excuse, this will never stop. Can
they always have an excuse? Well, look at Washington, DC, and if you
really need to, then visit the dam city and come to learn a bit about
it. Then you tell me if they'll always be able to fall back on an
EXCUSE! This is what was told on the original EPITOME
OF HARASSMENT TAPES,
copyrighted late in the nineteen-eighties, and please see it at the
end of the blog, despite my misspelling the title, as I am not a good
speller, and I fucked it up, and had no Microsoft Spellchecker back
in those days. Yes, H-2, very very very informative, back on Thursday
night. I enjoyed viewing your network the entire evening, and learned
a lot of fascinating stuff. One thing nobody can teach me, and that
is that this problem with whatever it is that is REALLY out there
wherever somewhere, and myself; is NOT GOING TO EVER STOP, OR GO
AWAY; and the first world famous wormhole is not the triangulated
McGuire-owned one, in Atlantic City; but is a period in time,
separating two tunes. I need not be cute, or smart-ass, to quote
Mashell, or Dawn-Marie. We all know what is getting said, them, as
well as Toni Beej. Between you and me world, the day he popped his
head into the door of the studio where Ryan and I were, and made his
statement just more than a year ago, things, bad as they were for me
then, GOT WORSE, A LOT WORSE, you know, Gary sir of the Trekkers,
(-77777777777777). I have some major stuff all planned out to tell
you folks, but right now is not the proper time. Billy Harner taught
me the power and importance of timing, and nobody ever seemed to need
to teach that to many others, as they sort of; well they don't all
inherit it, and that's for sure; but they do get it through street
osmosis, or whatever Richard Karpf and his peeps might feel comfy
cozy with; especially when playing poker, and with any hands from any
reality; huh Josephine? I am so very disappointed in you, Jehovah
Krassle, my endless love. I always knew I was right though, and I
feel 9 feet tall, that everyone back in time who laughed at me, has
to eat their words, and secretly realize that I was decades ahead of
all of them. They can lie to themselves from here to Harold Camping's
next bullshit predicted doomsday, and beyond. The last laugh of the
McNulty Club belongs to myself and perhaps, Mister Icabod Crane,
right © Office???
Welcome
to hell. I have been here since August fifteen back in 1986. If you
are reading this, then you are merely visiting HELL. Still, one
welcomes his guests unless he is extremely vulgar, rude, impolite,
and down right ignorant and revolting.
Every
day, it is back to horrible fire alarms that wake you up at 2 or 5 or
some other early time in the morning. There was one every day for
days, and today was no exception. The filth bag neighbors across from
me are on a non-stop slamming doors mode, it went on until 2:35 this
morning, and management will not do anything, so when I am out later,
I will, as I must, and even though it will do no good, send off two
letters, one is to my local congressman and one is to the Fort Pierce
Public Housing, the same address as is on my rent envelopes.
I
am making plans to escape for Mexico, and all the peeps who may try
and stop me, you all just go right ahead, as I am getting out of your
mother fucking evil empire. I may not be able to run away from what
all of you peeps call, GOD, but even she cannot stop me from running.
Running away buys me a few months before shit catches up again to me,
and starts all over. I need these lousy mother fucking few months. It
beats going totally out of my cunt eating mind at the speed of light
squared.
This
evil empire will end up destructing from within, you'll-C.
I
am now at 43% MPB, and my life will be over fucking shortly. I tried
to do something in 1986 that went real wrong, and I will be dead
soon, as a result of a very unforgiving goddess, despite bible lies
and a lot more, really, put more accurately; extreme cleverness. No
one ever needs to lie if clever enough, it is still a practice of
deception, in my books, only nobody gives a fucking Potters shit
about my magical, or non-magical book, so it appears, James Stuart,
old NON HIGH
SCHOOL buddy, old pal, from the cement business and
buildings and loans. The last eight days has contained 6 SUPER
FUCKING BOTBARS NOW, and this siege may very well be the new-times
repeat of AUGUST 15, 1986, who can ever breath echo know for sure, on
or off of all SWEPT AWAY PLACES, RIGHT LEGALLY BORN, NON GAGA DIANE
ROSS, IN ANY WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
WILL OUTLINE THE EVENTS OF THIS DAY FOR ANYONE WHO JUST MIGHT GIVE A
TINY FUCKING SHIT, AND FOR THOSE WHO DON'T. I tried to do a person a
favor who used to call me his buddy some time back, and he put a
knife into me as soon as I waltzed out the fucking door. What I
suffer through is so unbelievable, and beyond anyone's possible maxed
out staggered imagination; there just are no words, and this is why
Christianity, discusses a spiritual groaning language, when there are
simply no words. You see folks, I may fucking cunt curse a lot, and
you would do much worse if you went through ten days of my fucking
hell, let me assure you; but I could witness in every cunt chewing
house of worship on Planet Earth, that indeed, this
GOD and this DEVIL thing, is all true and real, and what I
know has zero percent to do with anything involving mother fucking
FAITH, I promise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Before I get into
mother fucking squat, believers and others; and maybe a student
teacher from 1972 who may have changed careers, or stuck with it, who
can know, Copyright Job Keeping Examiners of OHM-8; but I will make a
quick fucking list of why things are SUPER BOTBAR, then I will go
into some detail on matters that I feel need addressing in more
elaboration, fullness, and elucidation. I found out today that I was
knifed in the back by an old associate up the road. I learned that
someone did a President National Park Clinton on me yesterday near
the Publix, and yes folks, I meant to say that I made a fucking left
turn, not a right one, quite obviously. You'd have trouble keeping a
clear head too, if you were suffering 1% this fucking long and
severely, so don't you dare fucking laugh at me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
After wasting 18 dollars on a new remote, the entire machine broke
today, while I was trying to enjoy my Tuesday show of “L&O-SVU”,
and as I said; THE MARKET WILL FLY TOMORROW, AND AS I SAID THIS
YESTERDAY, AND IT OF COURSE FUCKING DID SO; I NOW PROCLAIM THIS ALL
OVER AGAIN, ONLY IT WILL BE A MUCH HUGER MOTHER FUCKING AMOUNT. What
do I mean by someone doing a Clinton? Well, real Morians and many
enemies know exactly, but some may not, so I will tell it more
clearly, YO, DOGS!!!!!!!!!! W-----O-----L-----F!!!!!!!!!!!! In 1995,
at the National Park, in Redbank, New Jersey, I saw another
non-high-school keeping jobs doppelganger, only this one was that of
William Jefferson Clinton in this part of the high school, Sir
Walter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Let's book out of here; there are no fucking cock sucking
war heroes on this fucking ass ambulance, brother
Vineland Chain-EEEE!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!
W-------O-------W!
I
regret that smashed Mountain Dew bottle, in August of 1986, with all
my heart and soul; and am so fucking like dead meat,
peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YO! Yes, I was trying to watch my
show tonight, and BAM, the machine burned up like a fucking bolt of
fucking ass lightning had struck it!!!!!!!!
The
dirt bag nabes have been in SLAM MODE ever since before this MAY
14 DEATH SIEGE began and struck me out of nowhere, just as
in the middle of AUGUST IN 1986. This really is just a SOSO-WEIN
shituation. The DOW JONES SHOT WAY UP, not as bad as I thought, but
it was done on my back as always, with this major PROPERTY DAMAGE
ATTACK, as the machine was giving me some trouble recently, and now I
know that it was mother fucking RASPBERRY
CARNIVAL HIT, BY THE WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!
Between
the fucking cunt BACK STAB, THE
NOISY NABES, THE FLYING
FUCKING DOW JONES STOCK MARKET,
AND THE DAMAGED PROPERTY, ON OR
OFF OF ANY EGYPTIAN BABYLONIAN TERRITORY; THIS
DAY WAS OFF THE SCALE FUCKING SUPER FUCKING COCK SUCKING ASS
BOTBAR!!!
I
AM GOING TO BE MOTHER FUCKING CUNT LAPPING MURDERED, MIZZ PAM BONDI,
LOVELY FLORIDA ATTORNEY GERNERAL NON BREAKDOWN, AND I JUST WANT YOU
TO KNOW SO THAT AFTER I AM FOUND DEAD IN THIS APARTMENT, THINGS WILL
JUST MAYBE GET LOOKED FUCKING INTO, I DOUBT IT, 99.9999%, BUT THERE
AIN'T NO FUCKING LAW AGAINST ME HOPING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
need to stop typing for 4 minutes or so, it is nine past eleven, and
I will not get struck by whore JANE for all the fucking dam ass love
in the cat house cubed, YO YO YO!!!!!
OK,
I am back, and am in regular time, Judge Copyrights, and let us all
get a big ass laugh on the fucking pathetic Mountainpen!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! It is now 11X2, as some of us LABBER'S
from 2294 would jokingly say, upon occasion, oh lovely Asian Girl,
Sir Detective Brog. You do not need to know it all, L-4, and as of
this current moment, whatever you all think you know about me and my
situation and especially with TAWF and WOMO, let me say, that that
suffices for the present moment, DOGS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where's
Matches McGuire when you need him, Randy
Vans??????????????????????????????? W-O-W!!!!!!!!!!
Doobey-doobey-doo,
and Nothing-Prophets, from the great illustrious
AT&T, who could go to bat for me, but won't, as they
know what side their bread is buttered on, WO, BH!!!!!!! Yeah bud,
you and PP said it all back in mother fucking ass time! Still I owe
all of you an apology. I know what is really going on, and you are
all just riding along and caught in the fucking currents and
undertows of this GREAT DREAM!!!!!!!!
Oh well, let us move this along, wonderful freaking peeps, YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO! What are the odds that Mikey called me with a very
logical explanation, while I was still outside yesterday, and all of
the stuff that went down all around these incidents, without
factoring in intentional fucking with the non-high-schools, oh
wonderful © Office? Boy oh boy, does Mountainpen have a mother
fucking wild ass vivid imagination, yeah shore; tell me another one,
on or off the beach, and for the hell of it, GOV! Thanks for ripping
me off in 2010, by not giving me my state income tax refund because
I left New Jersey. Like I wanted to leave big guy, SHEEEEEEEEIT. If
Ida stayed in that fucking house at 831 13th Street, I
would not be here right now, dude! Even the nice girl from the Saint
Lucie County Safe Space, told me I got out just in time
with my life, GOV. Sorry if that pisses all of fucking New Jersey
off, WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! Spin those crooked wheels of justice up
there, in or out of the lovely ass casinos, oh no, they do not cheat,
anymore than 'God' lies. But there are hidden ways of cheating and
deceiving, and when someone gets onto this secret fucking shit, they
basically are DEAD FUCKING MEAT, WORLD!!!!!!!!!
David
Charles Roth would understand this 100% if he was not a victim of
this horrendous fucking horse shit himself already, and dead. I TOLD
YOU, AND 'AT&T' HAS A RECORD OF IT, 1000 TIMES OVER; THAT WE WERE
DEAD FUCKING PEOPLE, AND WE ARE. I AM
DEATH, YOU MERELY PERCEIVE A DAM ILLUSION, OLD BUDDY.
This is why DEEDEE sits on my air conditioner outside, and follows me
all over. She knows that I AM DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My
death is way smaller than my HELL,
so which of these two fucking entities do you kind folks out here
think is going to become the dominating factor,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA????????
I
will look down and see green and you will look up and see brown, but
up and down, and green and brown; is all the same truth at zero
dimension; and you know that old buddy, as I taught you this; and you
echoed it right back to me that day in 1991, on Route 295. I remember
it all like it was happening yesterday. “Because of Z-D-T”, you
shouted at me at 100+DB, Uncle
Dave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Move over, all dam
light-switches from 1983, WEEEEEEEEEEEE! W—O—W!
Well
people, this will be a WHOPPER TODAY,
and you may quote any of three people here, Professor Pepperwinkle on
the original high phone bill Superman show, President Obama, and then
finally, little old nobody me, Mountainpen.
I
am not going to entertain you all with huge fonts, super wild stupid
swearing, or anything else like a blog over filled with brah's and
bro's and bree's and yo's. You will do yourself an extreme disfavor
if you skip it however, and you just go ahead and do this at your
free will and choice, both WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE and tiny group mingled
in, known as my Morians (BELIEVERS
in my truths, for the most part or perhaps entirely). I am holding at
a MPB-40% as of yesterday's horrendous emmereffing day that will
close out when I finish this blog, post it up, and go to 'sleep', as
mortal world residents would call the experience. But this blog will
contain quite a bit of tattle tailing and powerful stuff, ignore it
at your own potential funeral somewhere down the dimly lit road, good
kind folks, whoever you are, as frankly, Mister Rett Butler, I do not
care about those details, or for that matter, Congressman Andrews,
whether the city or the river, ran away with my mind, or whether or
not I have been lost in time, all these dam years, sir. I will open
by telling you that I knew I would get clobbered on my dam
systems-roulette tonight, and was not disappointed a small fraction,
losing 26 and a half emmereffing units. You can expect the DOW JONES
INDUSTRIALS to rise on tomorrow's markets, somewhere between 250 and
600 points, and you can bank on it folks, I PROMISE YOU, LOVELY MO!
Yes, I played five games, and got clocked, mostly on the final game,
as before that, I was only down three units, and was stupid, and
could not see the freaking writing on the wall as clear as Johnny
Clariton 1-2-3 ripoffs Lovernash, and merely quit at this small loss
for the day, knowing fully well, it could only do a Howard
Solomon Busted Eardrum, or an anti-dice,
or whatever, but real followers need not force me to spell out the
appropriate five letter word that starts with a 'W', and ends with an
'E', no rabbits, no Mike McNulty's, sorry, no time tonight. There's
too much to rock chucking say and I do not wish to type all
throughout the night. You will get your mind blown, unless you do not
want to, and have joined the two great world renown clubs, the
Missourians Club and the GWPOS CLUB, either or, or both; makes little
difference. The days of my doing security detail out in my car, at
the Cifaloglio place, comes to mind. The greatest system in the
universe could be used, but if I was being dive bombed by WOMO ENEMY
AIR STRIKES, and the skies were filled to the brim with nasty ass
chemtrails, making me ill and causing me to crap myself many times;
there is no way I could ever win. The weak link in the system I am
currently using is an over abundance of house vig numbers as well as
the evil-side-doubleton pattern, as one pattern wins, and the other
one destroys the system, and when it comes in, it comes in with a
vengeance, and you can play the dam wheel forever, and it will only
change if you do the unthinkable and try betting against the system,
as that inside the quantum foam of real true reality, makes the
system then start to work, and the bad patterns go away. BUT, you
still lose, either way you play the game, literally, and
figuratively. I got both hits tonight, clocked by runt slapping green
numbers or the house vig, as well as that one pattern that kills and
seems to remain endlessly unless you quit that wheel, and this is the
evil-side-doubleton pattern. This has a twin side that makes a
killing, as do strings and alternates, but this one pattern type,
will wipe out this particular gaming betting system, I promise. So
why does the one pattern come out so vigorously, tenaciously,
obstinately, and regularly, and by that I mean you can set your watch
to it if you are me, as all super attacks will eventually bring the
one pattern that just will not quit, and really wipes me out, and I
can count the truck on it, folks. This was a serious botbar day, and
I am five for seven now, in other words only 2-non-botbar days were
in the last seven days total, and for the month, I am now 12 botbar
days for the 20 days of May so friggin' far, good people. I did speak
to Debbie Marotto, but it is merely a futile expenditure of energy.
No on else complains, and the architecture of the system is why.
Don't ask me the details, it is too lengthy. Being across from these
bastard scum bags, only I get the full brunt of their evil
wickedness, and unless others complain, no one will ever help me. You
see, this is proof that I do not count in this world one tiny bit. No
one gives a blasted dam if I live or die, not one soul, and so, I do
not care one bit about this world, and it can go blow up right now,
and that is just fine with me. Do you want honesty or deception, from
this blogger. You're the one reading my words, do you want them to
just be a bunch of pretty sounding lies? Now let me begin to break
down this horrible botbar day for you, my believers. It started with
hearing a loud aerial vessel outside, I am sure of it. Now the rest
of the entire day was air free for me, nothing out of the ordinary,
once I went out to do an errand or two, and boy will we explore what
happened to me, good folks, and really, if you are not sitting down,
I strongly urge you to do so before reading further along. If you do
not and you hit your head when you fall down; please don't blame me,
as I TOLD
YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!WEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jupiter,
Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.
W—O—W
- http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
- Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.
THANK
YOU FOR SEEING ME TODAY, MY ENDLESS LOVE!!!!!!!!
BEAUTIFUL
LIGHTNING (GODDESS DIANA), SUBMITTED BY A CHANNEL 12 VIEWER, NOW
PASTED FROM THEIR TV-APP.
MY
BABY-BLOND
DIANA
ZUDLECRONESSIA ARTEEMIS.
55555555555555555555555555
55555555555
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.
“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.
MORIANITY
PART FIVE, WITH
CHAPTER
00096, CONTINUING RIGHT ALONG.
SO
ARE THE DIRT BALL NABES AND THE SLAMMING DOORS!!!!!
Yes
sir, old buddy from CF School, 'IT'S TIME', MMCN!
You
said it all in late 1971, AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!!!
Sharkey
says, 'HEY GIRL', Leticia Tilley,
oh and also,
tell
me if Marcus Muldanato, is still your
bitch???
Now
the greatest fish in the whole dam bay, wants to share a little more
information with this blind foolish Planet Earth.
PHOTO
IS COURTESY OF THE NATIONAL
GEOGRAPHIC.
AUUCH,
HEINZ GOTTWALD, say what Aunt Ruth?
Oh
yes people, as good old Jason
Forrest Summer,
SAYS IT ON HIS WFMU
RADIO
WEB-SITE SO WELL, AND I WILL QUOTE HIM HERE EXACTLY, YO, “FUCK
YOU”.
HE
SAID THIS FOLKS, NOT ME, AHA!!!
THIS
PHOTO IS COURTESY OF THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC
**WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**
YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983
NEW
2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC
TRACK
ALONG WITH: Only the opening title words are real.
“YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER”
BUT
TO WHERE, AS MY HELL IS ENDLESS?
**********WHERE
ELSE, H------E------L------L**********
***MORIANITY
PART FIVE***
A
child knows that a lot of stuff can be learned by visiting my Youtube
site, that will remain for now and a little while longer, but not
endlessly. It will all come down when Morianity has completed, and I
alone know that time, as well as all of the other parts of me that
are not me directly. Click below, 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.
THANK
YOU BLOGGER.
Http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
****************
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile
views – 2779
My blogs
About me
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Male
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Industry
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Occupation
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Location
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Hammonton,
New Jersey, United States
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Introduction
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Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can
honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or
have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through
hyperspace, with awareness.
|
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Interests
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Favorite
Movies
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Favorite
Music
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Favorite
Books
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You
forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and
olive pits?
An
angry mother. Also,
a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At
the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure
of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.
If
you have read this opening, feel free to skip this part.
FOLKS,
AS I SAID TO THE COPYRIGHT OFFICE IN THE LATE EIGHTIES ON MY EPITOME
OF HARASSMENT TAPES, GOOD MORNING, GOOD AFTERNOON, GOOD EVENING,
WHATEVER THE CASE MAY BE. How can I possibly know when you are
reading what I am writing? I AM not the great ISISCYLLA SARAH-STACEY
JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE, and never will be, sort of like my old pal
David Charles Roth's only show in town. How he would always remind
me, seemingly on a daily basis, that the WOMO-MILITUFORCE is not the
only show in town, nor will they ever be. I believe the tapes are
somewhere available in the great Library of Congress, Copyright
Office, in Washington, District of Columbia, a place may I add with a
very liberated attitude where the age of sexual consent should be
placed, and what is good for the lawmakers, is good for everyone
else, and if that is not true, just exactly how have I misspelled
America? XIII is the number by the way, such a tender age and how the
perverts must wonder why this is not common knowledge and all move
into our great capitol city, right Roy? I still cannot believe that
you told me this, or that nobody seems to know it, know matter how I
spread around what you said to me, old
pal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
will be the master sheet for PART 5 of MORIANITY.
You
may skip through this by scrolling, any time, folks.
THESE
SCUM ARE SCREAMING AND SLAMMING, FORT PIERCE POLICE
DEPARTMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IT
IS AFTER 10 NOW ON THIS 6-6-13 DEVIL#!
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.
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. Only where RU
when I need you, oh lovely AG of FLORIDA??????????????????????????
55555555555555555555555555555555
5555555555555555555
55555555555555555555555555555555
**W-Map,
courtesy of CHANNEL 12 local South
Florida TV.**
Note: The
image above may not reflect the current alert state for your county
due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the alert and
the map processing.
|
Advisory
Colors Key
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|
|
Winter
Storm Watch
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|
|
Flood
Warning
|
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|
Non-Precipitation
Advisory
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|
|
Flood
Statement
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|
Are
you on this thing, BREAD and IF, OR 'as if', Doctor
Garrigan???????????????????
A
beautiful shot of LUNA, also known as the moon, and 'Goddess Diana',
by the Romans.
She
is real folks, you will see when you're dead!
'5555555555'
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