MORIANITY
PART V, CHAPTER CVIII
BEGINNING
OF THIS BLOG:
I
AM UNDER A VERY HEAVY MOTHER FUCKING DEATH SIEGE AND GARGANTUAN
ASSAULT TODAY, THIS FUCKED UP MAJOR SUPER BOTBAR DAY, AND TWENTIETH
DAY IN CUNT LAPPING JUNE, 2013 AD. IT IS NOW LATE ON THURSDAY FUCKING
AFTERNOON.
All
day long, despite a thunderstorm
on and off, all around me, HUGE
GIGANTIC FUCKING-DEATH 'CHEMTRAILS'
ARE ALL OVER THE PLACE, ESPECIALLY LOADED UP TO THE EAST OF ME, AND
THEY SENT ME A MIND HACK AS THEY
READ MY FUCKING THOUGHTS RIGHT NOW, MAKING ME WANT TO
INITIALLY SAY TO THE FUCKING CUNT WEST OF ME, NO
IT IS TO MY EAST, BUT ALL OVER TOWN AS WELL; IN-BETWEEN THE THUNDER
CLOUDS. On top of this, a major HOSTILITY-HOLOGRAM IS ALSO ALL AROUND
ME TODAY, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF ONE VERY NICE NABE OF MINE, AND IT
MAY BE CONNECTED TO MY DEATH PUNISHMENT, AS WE EXCHANGED SOME
INTERESTING INFORMATION EARLIER ON, and that's all anybody needs to
know other than for this, to tie it all totally together in a nice
juicy and stinky disgusting garbage bag, that it all belongs in
aniwho! Without getting into specifics and placing another life in
extreme mother fucking danger, let me say that around the turn of the
century, despite meeting my very first family member for the first
time, half a dozen years back in Deptford, New Jersey; and
interestingly enough; the same general fucking area where the AME
Church was located and maybe still is, where one member of
the congregation was a very close friend to the father of the queen
of disco herself, Donna Summer, and of course, I am speaking of the
great cool dude and Building Maintenance Company owner like my pal
Bernard Derakowski back in 1981 and 1982, but I am a total believer
in having major respect for what was in the fictional television
script on the voted by viewers number one choice in original STAR
TREK shows, titled, “City on the Edge of Forever”, as indeed,
there are eddies and currents, and backwash systems that run not only
through time's D-4, but most towel definitely, wet and dry, through,
no puns but speaking of and give me a break Marge Barge Leo, YO; but
also that run through hyperspace's D-5. Now according to Gawky
Gaukauk, time should be D-4 and is, but hyper-space, Mizz McCoo, is
D-5, but interestingly enough, the majority of users of the word
HYPERSPAVE, do in fact break it up into two words, and hyphenate it,
you know HYPER SPACE, each word indeed containing 5 letters, as TIME
contains 4, more fascinating shit from the annals of the great and
powerful OZCAT, speaking of what got said before all fucking cunt
eating hell broke out with this siege, although even this is a tad
bit off of the total mark of truth, and let me explain just why, my
good believers out there, YO! The
day is starting out real nasty for me. I had horrible nightmares all
night long, except for being with ISIS for a short while as she met
me in a parallel universe, coming to me as an incredibly beautiful
young tall dark haired girl, but so many bad things were all around
me, and again, people were trying to get me put into jail. This has
been going on since 1977 when these nightmares all began about going
to jail. I've never ever been in jail, and this totally fucking
sucks.
Now this little paste in is no hack or accident folks. Things did not
start in this waking world with the hell around me once I left my
apartment. It began with a second mother fucking night of major ALL
FUCKING NIGHT-MARES!
QUIT
PICKING ON ME, YOU TYPE-3-EXPN SUB SCUM MOTHER FUCKERS, I AM NOT
BOTHERING YOU, AND BESIDES, LIGHTNING IS HERE WATCHING OVER ME, AND
THE NEXT STOP SHE MAY MAKE, IS TO YOUR HOUSE; TO INCINERATE IT, SO
BACK FUCKING OFF OF ME, PRICKS.
END
TRANSMISSION.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABIT!!!!
Now
this is not a hack or an error either, but shows the way my entire
life is one huge mother fucking YO-YO-BOUNCE-AROUND SITUATION, AND
THE FUCKING FEDS AND THE FUCKING COPYRIGHT OFFICE TOTALLY KNEW THIS
IN 1988 AND 1989, AND THEN DECIDED TO GET IN ON THE LITTLE FUN-GAME,
WITHOUT ANY CUPI ENJOYMENT FROM ASHLEY OR ANY OF HER LOVELY ILLEGAL
FRIENDS, AT LEAST LATER, BUT NOT TOO MUCH LATER. Wanna' fucking know
why they don't dare admit to a lot of powerful transdimensional shit,
up on that hill of pure power, good folks? It's simple, honestly.
They don't have the LEGAL STRUCTURE in place, nor could they develop
one, not in time to catch an overnight and sudden admittance to the
global society, that indeed, TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONICS is behind all
things, always has been, always will be, and MISTER ESOLPH can take
things from here with his famous, ''AND THAT'S
THAT''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, for two solid
nights now, nobody out here even wants to touch the material
concerning MY NIGHTMARES, but since my lovely super girl daughter
with the strength to break a seat belt at the age of sixteen, we can
alter this text quite nicely with the following little change and
sub-chapter within a chapter, that begins right here and right now,
oh lovely luscious Lieutenant VanBuren!!!!!!!!
MI
NIGHTMARES
I
AM NOT ABLE TO TELL 95% OF SHIT I WANT TO, AND YES FOLKS, TO QUOTE
DAWN-MARIE KING, “IT GETS GEUOOOD” LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, REAL
FUCKING ASS GOOD, BUT I CAN ONLY SAFELY TELL THE 5%, OR ELSE I WILL
FIND MYSELF WITH SOME MEAN DOGS AROUND ME, ON A ROOF OVERLOOKING A
BAYWATCH TYPE TOWER, WITH THE CENTRAL PIER TO MY RIGHT, AND THE OLD
STEEL PIER TO MY LEFT, AND DIRECTLY BENEATH ME, THE GREAT ALMIGHTY
WAYV-FM RADIO STATION, ALONG WITH THE REAL TRUE HEADQUARTERS OF THE
EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND CLUB OF THE
MCCOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
For
a very long time now, before I ever posted one thing on a Youtube
account on the thirtieth of December in 2010, I was told to, in
powerful dreams, by the great ISIS-ERMC. It began after being at work
at Cifaloglio Garage one day, in Folsom, New Jersey, 3000 miles from
the other more famous Folsom and the mighty Johnny Cash, another
substance abuser, goddess help the entire Entertainment World (EW)!
On this particular night, something happened that caused me to listen
to a particular side of a cassette tape, that forever altered this
planet's history, and this is no exaggeration, hay give me a break,
is what I tell about the Dow Jones a lot of yuk yuk yuk McNulty
stuff, folks? Really,
is
there another MORIANITY, or
something even close to it; anywhere else, up on this great
and powerful OZERNET????
DOES
THIS DUDE KNOW HIS ONIONS OR NOT GINA????????
///////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
KEYBOARDS FROM PETA-HELL ®
MARK
WAYNE MOHR--------1980, ALL BLOGS © 2006-2013
So
here I am my wonderful awesome believers, of whom I think are between
2-4 somewhere, and I love you all with 100% of me totally enlightened
beingness, (I love these other two to four parts of me, that are not
me directly), in other words, knowing this makes me 'enlightened',
nothing else, no trances, no potions, no meeting of the minds with a
group of gurus on a mountaintop, no illegal drug consumptions, and on
an don I could go. Let us get back to the wild stuff presently so
urgent in MORIANITY. TANKS!!!! Only the Vatican really understands
MORIANITY, and even they are smart enough to keep their mouths shut.
Lightning told me last night in Akoslem City, that I better tell the
truth and not leave my Morians hanging in there with the Hammonton's
and the Huntington's, so I must now obey her commands. After-all,
she's my beyond hot and unfathomably awesome baby-blond love of my
life, and the third part of a wild triple GODDESS, and no more needs
to be said now or ever, or the entire thing will go right into the
NUKESON can! Not yet, Mister McNulty, not unless you think a set of
stairs in Suffolk County, New York was real funny in the very early
seventies as well, old pal from Exton, Pennsylvania! So here I am in
my car with a tape playing, while doing guard duty one night, during
my STOCKHOLM KIDNAPPING days of latter ohm-8 through most of all of
ohm-9. By December of 2009, I thought I had learned the full
depravity of my oldest daughter's sense of humor, I hadn't. Now laugh
if you really are dirt bag enough to want to,
MMCN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
is like discussing Atlantic City, or Sarah Jacobson, or for that
matter, the great United States Government, the Vatican, and the
WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE. We can talk, we can cry, we can do a Disney cower
speed away with Gramps Spears screaming his lungs out in the back
seat for an ever greater metal pedal, but all of that, and so much
more, I never until just today, really knew just how down right mean
and frightening, my kid can be, once something you do pisses her off.
There is not grabbing the minute hand and trying to fling it back, as
it is simply a hopeless cause. The difference between doing things
via the ES, and just lots of other great parlor tricks; is that all
averaged out and then remeasured again, the agonies inflicted upon
those victimized by either of these monstrous atrocities that dwarf
any concept ever conceived by Hitler, the ES causes way more lifelong
everlasting deeper unhealed injuries, after all is said and done,
after all the pieces of dog shit are swept up off the smelly floor,
and after the fat lady finally sits down, stops writing, stops
singing, and keels over like Shelly winters' heart attack after her
heroic swim-dive, in that great movie, “The Poseidon Adventure”,
the ship named after the true King of the sea, Mister
Cavelantisocleevious Krassle, AKA Neptune-Jupiter-Poseidon. Him and
his lovely wife, on the Astral-Plane, chase me away from their great
daughter, Sarah Stacey Jehovah Krassle, and then I am the bad guy for
being the victim of this hellish hyper video-game of the
Lawnmower-Man-2 system, for roughly, 1.49720507 times ten to the
twenty-fifth trillionth power year equivalent in
Astral-Interaction-Event or (AIE), something never measurable to the
last drop, any more than we can ever determine an exact relationship
of a closed curve (circle), between its through-ness (diameter) and
it's all the way around-ness (circumference). We can say 3.14, or
take it out a bit more to say, 3.14159265, but it still never ever
stops, yet there is perfect connection, and we can see it with any
circle a child of two draws on a piece of paper. So before you tell
me there are no mysteries unsolvable, let me first take a good
healthy crap into your brain, maybe you'll think better after that,
who can ever know, with or without those cool ass breath echos,
Copyright Examiners, AHA-AHA-AHA? Go back to 1971, Mike McNulty,
you're not welcome here today on Morianity. Thank you.
Yes,
Lightning told me that I must be honest,
and tell the truth. I admit I slightly made things appear just razor
edge off of perfect truth when I said on a previous blog that Diana
is scared to come around me, just as with many others, and I gave the
one real good example around the time that Iraq invaded Kuwait, with
the Resident Manager Nate, at the Echelon Towers Building of
Voorhees, Township, New Jersey, USAESMWG. I'll bet dimes to cunt
sniffing donuts right about now, my old ex-bizz partner PP is heading
straight for his local K-Mart with his own dirty pants, right about
now. He must remember the shit I told him through the phone back
before he had me rolling on the floor with his voice-mail message
that he left me, a year and a half back somewhere in time. He knows I
do what needs to be done. He know if you bastards won't stop hurting
me, that I'll do exactly what is needed, to deal with the situation
and take care of bizz, a lot better than he ever took care of making
all those millions in the music business, WEEEEENA. Yes there have
been a lot of very special and very precious girls in my life, and
all anyone has to do is examine the United States Copyright Office
records under the name of MARK WAYNE MOHR, to see that this is all
true. I do not get stuff from all of them, they get it from me,
unless you want to seriously believe that I am a real live true
honest to the gods, T—I—M—E
***** T—R—A—V—E—L—E—R!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
ladies and gentlemen, Sarah Jacobson
was indeed, a very special girl. Too
bad Mister Mackey
would not let me run
my cassette recorder that day,
as a lot more was said in the shadows, than just the
great Bob
Madison Club
of the Teacher's Lounge,
and a few who's sleeping around with who stories, that go hand in
hand with any and all high schools all over the cunt eating country,
and most likely, the civilized world. Still, Mister McDowell, maybe I
love my calendar girl and my calendars, and you loved taping as much
as I did back then, but the real secrets have not even begun to speak
out, right oh lovely Karen Upchuck Carpenter-83? Now I know that was
not a nice thing to say, and I do sincerely apologize, but it gets
the point across, when I do a General Patton, you know; tell it down
and dirty. There is not always time for the amenities of niceness,
unfortunately, we live in as very mean, nasty, ugly, evil fucking ass
world, and you all know this is true!
Now
moving on with the topic of the great Goddess Sarah Jacobson, good
believers and other folks; I told in the first three years of my
blogs, a lot about her, as well as some stuff that all happened.
Later of course, I began to realize that this awesome two year old
from New York, was able to become this 22 year old super girl at my
school. I told you how she already knew about the Watergate days, but
never clarified back then, just what she knew and when. The day she
first discussed it in quick bursts of a few choice words, was back on
the newly built bridge in the late springtime in the year of 1972,
telling how 40 days from now, on the 17 June day, as it was then
early April on an unusually warm early spring afternoon, this would
all happen. Once she said this, I suddenly remembered a dream I had
of her just that night, where she was telling Steve the Jock, that
she does not kiss boys. Fifteen minutes later, this actually went
down in what you would call, real life. Talk about needing the
services of K-Mart. I know I had some ass wiping to do back at the
school. I told how that autumn upon returning to school in late
October, I had been beaten up in the same manner as my Cousin Donald
had, at a place we need not discuss right now, and instead of the
perpetrators being expelled, I was after shit was all blamed on me,
and I was then back at special education all over again, upsetting my
mother beyond any verbal description. She had been planning this for
a while and was hell bent on getting me out of the area, and I think
we all know why. It's been told and told and needs no rehash job at
this current time. Melanie Safka the folk music diva was just out
with her great song at the time, called, “Brand New Key”. Locked
up inside all of this, for all Dan Mackey and I ever knew, was this
entire mess still ongoing right to this very minute, and so maybe
indeed, and as the great MS said all along, maybe then, I too have
this mysterious key. Or maybe I did have it and MS was unaware that
ISIS had taken this stuff out of my closet in 1969, at the Dellway
Arms Apartments, on Oakland Avenue, in Oaklyn, New Jersey, Apartment
O-15, as in Gawky Gaukauk and his letter-number order numerology. In
any event, this did not all happen random in some meaningless
happenstance grouping of silly coincidental things. Anyone foolish
enough to believe this and to discredit the MORIANITY truths that
really double as the ADULT VERSION and reprinted BOOK OF THE BEACH,
burned by Russell Thaxton that night in middle December of 1969 or
maybe it was a little later on, as ISIS has fuzzed out my memories
now, for all I know it could have happened right around the time that
Dorothea Dario threw my bicycle into the Newton Creek, in early
January in 1970. In any event, the hypnotic SUNRAM eclipse, was still
a short ways off, taking place in March. Bob Madison was all a part
of this, as was John Zane, only in ways totally outside any boxes of
rationale. As of this point, I still am putting together possible
scenarios of how it all fits together, right down to Zane's teacher,
Mister Ciprionni Ohm. There is so much more to tell about 1969-1971,
and the joke is on ISIS, for telling me to tell the blogs more about
this as well as the progressing years after this leading up to the
song, 'LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS' and the interaction where she sang
this song to me, in early June of 1980, and now is more than 33 years
back into time. You can wonder about a million things that all link
up to all of this, along with the great original interaction and the
giant county wide chemtrail that dispersed and dissipated all over
the skies above me, on the following morning on that chilly December
day in 1969, just half a year after the almighty Misses Marola made
sure that I did that school play, so as to be at a precise place and
time, later on that day, down in Atlantic City, New Jersey, to hear
the mighty and great Sarah say to folks riding in a car that came
bolting down Tennessee Avenue, “Your friends are in the shop”.
Just tell me this folks, and I know the internet is gargantuan and
appears to include the entire world up there. Is there another
Morianity or something even close to it, anywhere up on this great
and powerful OZERNET???? I would seriously doubt this myself, but
admit to not being god almighty. Still, before we do move on with the
great SARAH, which caused my poor mother and I to be assaulted and
criminally preyed upon in numerous ways almost 24 years in the
future, minus a month or two, back on the second
day of August in 1996, at the Pathmark Shopping Center of
Turnersville, New Jersey, County of Gloucester, Township of
Washington, and BOOM,
don't get MOWED DOWN or jacked in by all these incredible backwash,
eddy, current SPACE-TIME-MIND symbolism's, YO folks, and please, is a
big ass W-O-W
needed right about here?
55555555555555555555555555555555555
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
00108.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
LIGHTNING
LOCATION: YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU DIANA
ARTEEMIS, MY
BABY-BLOND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||
HELP ME PEE, YOU HAVE BEEN OUT OF HERE SINCE MARCH 29th, and now it is JUNE 19, girl.
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Thank
you, it is my sincere hope that even if I die a horrible death, I
have helped a few along the way, know the truth; truth bigger than
any media sources, will ever dare to print.
May
the Goddess fully bless, all of my Morians/Believers!!!!
Well
let us wrap this all up for the day. Folks, my nightmares the last
few nights are off the scale. But there are people alive and well,
all around me, it matters not where I live or move, and they mean me
nothing but harm, but just don't have the guts to walk up to me and
cap me a couple of times in the thinker. Not that it would ever
matter, as none of us can ever attend our own funerals, and realize
that death is every bit as big of a parlor trick, as all the strange
sounds that materialize on tapes, or green horses that seem to on
video tapes, but no matter, the real truth is that I have told you
all, time and again, over and over, it is all a game, but just who is
playing it, controlling it, and the victim of it? Answer and solve
these puzzles, and you will have consumed the fruits of two very
tasty trees from long ago, on my side of a fence line, the first
time, not in 1972, not in 1997, not in 2013, but in 13000 plus BCE. I
never forget anything ERMC, and you are all mine forever, no matter
what you try and do to me, and yes, I am very very very disappointed
in you, lovely brown eyed girl.
Folks,
I cannot tell you what I want to, just know that maybe I should not
have posted that last thing up to the Youtube, on my site
paulaking2011, and no, I have not seen the yellow telephone anywhere,
despite an extensive all night search for two nights now, on both
sides of this great bridge so keep up the good fight everybody, and I
hope you all find your own yellow telephones someday,
before it is all too John McDowell late.
**END OF BLOG**
1 comment:
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