12:10
AM-EDST, SATURDAY, 22 JUNE, 2013
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION FROM FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES, EARTH, SOL, MW
GALAXY
MORIANITY
PART 5, CHAPTER 00109, DUH-ISNEY HYUNDAI
Ok
people, this was a quieter day and I have had time to think and
reflect on the recent events, of basically two weeks time. I am
directly involved in my own life, and so my objectivity on many
things, naturally is questionable, all I can do therefore is my best
while attempting to describe and cogitate on much of this personal
nightmare that surrounds me and has done so for nearly three score of
time now. Let me get right into this, my good viewers, L-4, folks,
and or whatever. As we move on, we will be examining a lot more than
just two weeks time, but adding eight more to that makes it ten
weeks. SLAM BANG BOOM, does anything ever mother fucking change, all
the way up here on this twenty-second
day in June?????????????????????????????
AS
ALWAYS, the now great fallen but once somewhat national celebrity,
Mister Kevin Tredaux; as many know quite well; would remind us
continually on his TV as spots, how “It is always all about the
money”. Only a moron after age 35 or so needs him or anyone to make
us see that reality. But I say something that I've said many time
previously, and that is that with me and my hellish situation, it
really honestly does appear, “to be all about the music”. I'm
sure you want me to expound and clarify this with simple yet quick
elucidated details, so I will gladly do so, good folks. Please, in
the name of Jesus Christ All mighty, listen to me, and before you
make up your mind about this, really listen to my words with your
heart, not just your mind, pretend that I am your son if that helps,
and if you can do so without hurling, Karen Upchuck-83.
Now
we enter into Weena and her boyfriend's little spinning time chair
wheel, and see how some things have played out that totally bring us
to right here and now, but in ways some would merely gloss over,
instead of realizing the total powerful shit that is involved with so
many awesome things.
Let
us go back to twelve days ago, to a week from last Tuesday. I went,
on advice from the normal library that I go to, to a sister branch on
the west side of North Fort Pierce, Florida, just a few blocks from
where I used to live before coming to reside here at this PHA
Building. Again, I was there with the intent of trying to get my
song, “You'll Be Crossing Over” to be uploaded to my Youtube
account, at http://youtube/paulaking2011/
and was not treated very well there, and it was as though they
already had it all planned out to be that way with me when I came in.
They could not be sure when I was coming, but I did phone ahead to
talk to that same dirt bag, Rick, who screwed me at the other library
down on Melody Lane when he was going to help me with my blogs back
when I was having all that trouble with the Tweeting rockin' robins
in the summer time in 2010, causing the stock market to soar as a
result, from around 8400 points up to just under ten thousand points
within only a few months, via the parallel-event between hurting me
and the Dow Jones always going up as a result. Again, as with that
other bad time in my life in August of 2010, after this time, the
DJIA has soared up for two solid weeks after having its first down
week in ages after this ridiculous absurd ludicrous based on nothing
rally, began growing so powerfully this year in 2013. If this in all
honesty is really all up in my sick imagination for 27 years, then I
really do have one hell of a fantastic imagination, so much so, that
there is no way that peeps who indeed know I exist, and I think my
copyright record speaks for itself that this is quite real and true
and not imagined, then these lovely folks would have long ago made me
an offer to write for one of their studios and make them a marvelous
mint of cash, with my WILD IMAGINATION. I think we all up here on
this blog, KNOW EXACTLY WHAT'S REALLY GOING ON, with this, with all
of my life's woes, with parallel event and the stock market and my
persecution done intentionally, with my family, with my daughter,
with Hyper-Space and other
matching initials; and most
especially, with music.
I
find it very difficult to believe, that any 'for-real' peeps up here;
do not see and believe, that this entire story is all real and true
and honest, and pitiful; and the best words to be added here, would
be demonically monstrous, including hyphenating 5-D.
I
will not insult my audience, of which I know is between ten and forty
nice folks. You all know this is all the truth, after-all, just what
would I possibly have to gain with a story this totally outlandish
and inconceivably absurd, be it a work of either fiction or lack of
mental health. I am not saying that I am the most healthy person
alive, physically, mentally, emotionally, and on I could go, but I
sure try hard, and I am the product of one hell of an unfathomable
amount of covert and totally illegal abuse, from a very powerful
group of absolutely horrendous wicked rotten people, who most
assuredly, to use old lingo terms, will endlessly burn in a horrible
hell someday, for doing all this unspeakable detestable and
despicable stuff to me, an innocent pathetic harmless victim of their
criminal mischief that rivals even what Hitler ever did a long time
ago in Germany. This is just honest truthful words, and if they bite
or hurt, then whoever may be reading them and in pain, is in for 'a
ticket south', to quote my old pal, banged up blue nungen car and all
from the middle eighties, Ugie Horowitz AKA and under Hollywood stage
name, Michael Landon, West Collingswood 5-D, or (Hyper-Space). No,
this ain't my daddy's 'Olds', Mizz Shatner, nor is it 2007; so I may
go back to using the old standby switcheroo of hyperspace and high
school, WHAAA.
Well
people, let me keep this moving right along. None of us are dumb, and
I have been told by somebody that I am just looking for my 15 minutes
like everybody else. This is a filthy dirty rotten lie, good folks. I
am looking for a lot more than 15 minutes. I am looking to start up a
great foundation that would aid many people just like me with
terrible problems, people being persecuted by all sorts of evil mean
pursuers of them, ex lovers, family, revenge seekers, even
financially distressed individuals, even those in trouble with
Internal Revenue, any kind of persecution. Now this foundation would
always operate within the boundaries of the legal system, and would
even try to assist those in trouble, contributing one dollar for
every dollar they pay, things like that. This is my dream, and has
been since 2006 when I started all of this on-line junk, at the
suggestion of the two peeps in my life then who though that it may
solve some of my horrible problems, Christopher Bennett, and Edward
Himacane Lynch. But there have been a couple of very mean and jealous
folks, who have accused me of using, or trying to use, my situation
since 1980-1989, whatever that situation really
is in reality in this universe,
with my mystery-caller-goddess of all and or any BABYLON locations,
and in or out of any regular time STM illusions, in all of this. This
was always about as far from my mind as anyone can imagine, and when
I began my blogging and Morianity early in 2006, I did not even have
a clue about half the stuff that I have now come to learn as the next
few years ticked along. I do not use people, I try and find a
mutually acceptable cooperation that is anything but one sided, and
for any reason if this is not agreed to, then I am off to the next
project, and so on. I said, “I TRY”. Don't make a god out of me
trying something. It normally screws up real fast and real mean. So
sorry, Ambassador of 1941 Japan!!!!!
This
applied to CHEMTRAILS,
and anyone with a brain, and with ears; understands.
Then it was revealed to me, just like the Disney thing; a short while
after the CHEMTRAIL
video
was posted up, that if something is done; it sort of proves that all
of this goes beyond the realm of miracles and pope canonizations, and
any of it. I speak of comparing two tunes and then using a little
techno-pop machinery of the eighties in conjunction with some tapes
that for reasons none other than pure providence, happened to make it
down with me to Florida, the night that I packed a very few things,
and ran away from where I was being SS Kidnapped, by distant cousins,
and this is not me talking, this is a close cousin to a top recording
artist, the great BonJovi for gods sake. He is the one who saw all
this, brought it to my attention, and then, for wild reasons, after a
long time operating a sound studio in Port Saint Lucie, Florida, one
day shortly after this mess was all going down live, poof, THE
END, no more
Avalon BonJovi studio to go to and do my projects. Oh, and this is
all just by pure random coincidences. Well, Jack McCoy, Abbey
Carmichael and the entire Law & Order gang would not believe
that, and guess what my friends out here, NEITHER DO I, GOOD
FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'll tell you another thing I don't
believe. It is almost as if ISIS is taunting me, but I cannot be
sure, I have to do an FBI here and keep this idea-concept on the
'back-burner' for right now due to insufficient intelligence data,
after-all, I have been cut off from all contact, everyone has totally
abandoned me and hates me, and for nothing that I have legitimately
done to any of them. To say it biblically, this entire thing is just
about as SATANIC AND DEMONIC
AS IT GETS, good peeps. But what do I mean by taunting. Well, if I
had watched and taped that silly show that MC suddenly just out of
nowhere decided to do, I would have had a million words to play with.
I am only interested in what I have of her from the days when she was
playing lab-teck, this is not a game, and just because she wants to
be sixteen forever, I DON'T. None of this was a game, and it was all
done to try and break out of whatever it is that has been going on
all around me since 1980 give or take, and it was her all along, and
a moron can see it. If I were just trying to make a thousand unknown
tunes of great known artists, I would be taping every dam show on
television for voice retrievals. I live my own life, and it is very
private and personal to me. This isn't some stupid game, it is real,
it is agonizing, and I just want OUT OF THIS NIGHTMARE, and can any
of you out here really blame me for gods sake? Out of a few recent
things said to me by peeps that I absolutely cannot mention any
names; only one had some powerful merit, and again, proves the
powerful truths about being so close in the forest, as not to see the
trees, an old and very wise-person's expression, at least IMHO, L-4.
They said if dream-music is transdimensional, then how can you say
the tune of “You'll Be Crossing Over” is not from a parallel
universe, when the harmony is done when a teenaged girl is asleep in
a dream, playing lab-technician, in '84? WOW, this person blew me
away, and shows that I have some real thinking peeps out here, and I
will protect their privacy and not divulge any more about them, but
will further elaborate on what this person has suggested. You
are RIGHT, FELLA!!!!!!
I
will no longer click on the song, and will not be posting the full
tune up. I will not be responsible for the possible apocalyptic
results all over the world, should too many people hit the post or it
even mini viral'd as this could indeed be a catastrophic deal. It has
to do with electronic circuitry and the inherent forces behind what
separates all universes from each other in a frequency vibration. You
do not need to know more than that, good peeps. So please, whoever
has made my life so horrible since a year ago when this tune started
all of this, I won't ever post the final mixed CD, and I'll even be
taking down all my Youtube stuff, so please, leave me alone and cut
me a break. I don't mean any harm to any of you, BEAM ME FUCKING UP
SCOTTIE, YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My coming to learn
that this stuff causes major disturbances in a STM electromagnetic
field of cosmic proportions, began around 1974. The convincer knock
out punch was 1980 and my demo tunes and Mount Saint Helen's
erupting. Then I still played around with this for about six more
years, and the rest is history, perhaps it's even why they persecute
me and have since 1986, the timeline fits, and many believe that the
planet is indeed being watched over and even protected by something,
someone, who knows, the gods, ISIS, whatever. But my question
remains, then why do all of this to me, ISIS? Oh well, enough for
tonight,m I just wanted to get this door opened up and have us begin
to lightly explore the foyer area beyond it. We have now sufficiently
done so, or at least, IMHO we have, and Rockford says it all, with or
without his great files, “We can always get back to this”! And
guess what good believers and Morian-folks, this is exactly what we
now will be doing, Munikay Munikay breaking my codes off, code 2,
Munikay code 2, Moorestown Fire Company, of New Jersey. So just what
is a Blue Munikay nungen, oh great and powerful Alphabet Soup
Agencies of America, (ASAA)?????? The economies of the world now have
a totally married system of business with government, despite the
constitution in this great nation, the USA, strictly prohibiting this
conduct. Just as the mob used to do simple money laundering, all
dirty world monies are now laundered through the trading systems of
the global stock and trading markets, such as Wall Street.
Shidaleedee and sing it with me, from here to 19 hundred and 73. Many
think things will go the way of 1973, but will they? As long as I can
be persecuted, unlike in 1973 before this all got started in ISIS'S
game, they never will have to worry about any huge market collapses.
A moron can see
what the markets do, a total moron. There are ten obvious simple
things that could make anyone with a spare hundred grand to play
with, a billionaire, and there is nothing the SEC could do about it,
it is not insider trading, just totally knowing what is inside of the
MIND of the pool of total investors, a key to making billions out of
relatively small chump change. These bastards take profits and sell
and then buy again with the monies they stole legally from smaller
investors who get stopped out or margin called out. Smart money
follows the follow, and 60 percent of the time, it will not whip saw
out of that. It opens higher than a previous close, it goes up that
day to a higher point position than where it began at 9:30, and
should it open lower than a previous close, it goes lower that day to
a lower point position than where it began at 9:30. Six or seven out
of ten times, you just get in with the other buy or sell orders that
are processed ahead of you naturally as they are why it is opening at
a different price than where it last closed, but this one little
trick is nothing. Still, I do not give away a goldmine, as you need
to have a lot of money stashed in the account and you need to trade
with a small percentage of it to avoid losing when you shouldn't have
to, in margin calls and stop out protection triggers. A child can
draw a line on these stock charts and connect the low points and the
high points over one day, 5 days, 10 days, and more, and see that
once these huge Dow Jones moves begin, they last for years, and you
just keep buying more positions as the market weakens, and sell off
others while the market rallies, the old buy dips and sell rallies
trick, only it needs to be timed right, and you need to play with a
small percentage of your full money in your account, or YOU
WILL GO RIGHT DOWN THE DRAIN,
AND VERY FAST. The pros on the floor intentionally gun the little
people (drive prices up and down on purpose) just to rob you of your
hard earned money, to stop you out or margin call you to a loss. So
as you keep losing, these fat cat owners (the smart money) keep
winning. This is all JUST REALITY, SON, Dennis Snyder. It is so much
easier to lose than it is to win, not because odds are against you
such as in buying lottery tickets, but because in the case of these
legal thieves on WALL STREET, they're given a license to steal all of
the poor investors money over and over with these unknown tricks,
that believe it or not, are not really fully understood by average
small time investors, (those with under 50 mill in their trading
accounts). If someone blew up Wall Street once and for all and ended
capitalism, the average person would once again have a shot of a
decent life in this country again, but if any of you think that this
is ever going to happen with these bastards operating their crooked
market up there in Manhattan, you're deluded and pathetic. Our
enemies back in the days of World War 2, and especially the freaking
Japanese Empire back then, they knew these truths 100%. This is not
telling anyone to commit any illegal or violent act, I am allowed to
tell the truth and promise all of you, that nothing will ever change.
How many out here remember all the promises made to us by not just
this president, but by every one of them? It is the most horrible
evil game and city up there on the hill, than anything that the Roman
Empire could ever dream up in a million years, but history will go on
teaching you that I am a liar, and don't listen the fuck to asshole
me. One day when it is too Scylla late, even the top carpenters won't
have a lot of love, or money left, just watch and see if I am really
so fulla' shit!
Do
you know which criminals I hate the most, and which ones in the very
long run are truly the most deadly and dangerous to the overall
population of basically honest peeps? It is not the rapist, those who
assault, and even those who commit murder. If you are killed, boom,
it is over, you don't even know what struck you. Rape is horrible,
and so is any assault, I should know, as I have been raped and I have
been physically assaulted, not once, not twice, but upon numerous
occasions. THIEVES,
ROBBERS; these are the most horrible mother fuckers on the planet,
and if I were the dam person in charge, the most agonizing tortured
slow death over MONTHS,
would be the penalty for those caught.
Now
just how did any of my words on this blog, open up anything new or
for that matter, add to already opened pathways? Well, I will quickly
give you a heads up. Reread it a few times, and then good folks, just
wait for the next half dozen blogs that come, because this is the
foundation blog that will support all that is indeed upcoming. Also,
I need to complete it by adding in one tiny additional thing. When
you read my blogs forward or backward, it shows that something that
has no need of life in any real order, in their own lives, that is
behind the miseries in mine. If you cannot see it, you need to do
yourself a giant favor, screw me, I am not the one who counts here,
you do. You need to throw Morianity right smack dab into the trashcan
right about now and forget this ever existed or that you ever
stumbled onto it. If you cannot see it, you are not just wasting your
time, but as bible scriptures do indeed also promise, there are cases
where not hearing at all, would be much better for you! Folks, even a
freaking ''WOW'', is not saying enough here, YO! But I told Jim
Rockford that it now is the proper time to get back to stuff, only
let us remain totally non violent and as kind as is humanly 'Bruce
Pennock' possible. These are the real initials to bet your bippies on
folks, and JR, (James Rockford), not from Dallas Texas but further
out along the
lovely blond permeated West Coast
of these great continental United States of America, WHAAAA,
WEEEE-NA!!
Some
peeps who read Morianity, are wondering why I use words like
''hostilitygram'', originating from two words strung together, STAR
TREK-TNG, style, with their great and cool holo-deck, HOSTILITY
HOLOGRAM, so let me try explaining this to y'all right now, quick,
down, and dirty flat out, so you can really ''get it'', once and for
all, and whether you may be aware of it or not lovely peeps, you are
most likely in small or maybe bigger ways as with me, a victim of
these occasional grams yourself, but you just dismiss it, unlike me
when I fall under major fucking nasty ones, and unlike the local
celebrity of the Delaware Valley back where I come from, the one and
only ABC Networked local children's hero, the great and wonderful,
maybe, Sally Starr. As with her friend Billy Harner, they both have
name domain websites for you to type into your PC, and check them
out. Recently I have begun doing the experiment with all of you,
showing how little significance, time really is in our human lives.
We have made it significant, and built it into sociological
structures for many thousands of years, so of course, the word HABIT
comes to mind, and not a nuns hat and coat, an old one, or a new one,
Bob Cheatley Patterson. Wow, I thought this dude was going to stroke
out on me that day in late 1983 and early in 1984, both times when I
asked him a simple question about his exotic dancer's girlfriend's
last name of Noonan, speaking of Trenton, Sarah, and Buddhism, for
crissake, peeps, YO YO YO YO YO!! Yes peeps, here is an example of
both my very recent hostilitygram, as well as the one in 1998
suffered by the great celeb, Misses Sally Starr, in her home that hot
summer's day, Mayor Levy and Rick, and other barnacle Bill sailor man
and fisherman, and basic greed and secrets, from OH THE GODS, WHERE
THE HELL ELSE, GOVERNOR CC, BUT STONE HARBOR, NEW JERSEY, no fields
this time, Microsoft, but yes, we can never ever ESCAPE these parts
of reality, just as MC says so on that, and other great awesome
musical projects, WOW!!!!!!!!! Hand me a broom, and I;ll get right to
work, Senator Thompson, my old pal, and thank you forever for saving
my life, in a parallel universe. I will not forget that favor, ever,
not even over here, as I am a resident of five full dimensions and am
cursed to walk the rest of my human life as Mark Wayne Mohr, in this
fashion. Another W—O—W is needed, I would suppose, but shall we
swing this back to the hostilitygram topic, before we need to
purchase an entire crate of brand new keys and clutches and gears,
sent special delivery 'ES', from 10/05/08???
Here
is what happened to me on my horrible botbar day back on last
Thursday. This only will pertain to the topic of being mauled and
pummeled by HG'S (hostilitygrams).
I
held doors open for four persons, nobody even said thank you. I asked
a cashier to double bag something and she ignored me totally. I stood
in three lines and was ignored as if I was not there at all. I had a
prick step on my foot, and just walk on without so much as a quick
'sorry'. I had a dude expectorate right in front of the path I was
walking from the side of me, making me either step in a huge greenie
or else quickly divert my steps and walk around. I wrote down an
entire list of stuff, this is about a third, I kid you not, and am
not able to find the list on a note pad that I must have buried under
a stack of bills that I was going over that night, so my memory is by
no means complete. Here is what happened to mother fucking sally,
back in her home on Beach Street in Atco, New Jersey on that torrid
hot summer afternoon in 1998. This gets real geuoood, folks, so do
not stop for a coffee break at this exact time, whatever you freaking
do!!!!
Sally
had come up with the idea of turning the two weather scenarios into a
boy and girl doll. She was calling friends of hers and they gave her
numbers to call at toy companies to try and make appointments to meet
with them and come in and do legal disclosure agreements. When she
began trying, after speaking to a couple of her friends initially,
all hell broke loose and she began to be treated like total cow crap
at light speed squared. It reached a point where I was sitting there
across from her just waiting to see how she would react, as I knew
this was some type of psychic attack done by the EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND. Suddenly she stared over at me and in a voice I had never
heard from her before, said to me and I'll quote, “Is this me, is
this happening, what's going on Mark”? I swear to the gods of the
Astral-Plane, all of them, and the Almighty
Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle ISISCYLLA HERSELF
(TRIPLE
GODDESS), that this is
all true and real, it went down, I was there, and this is what I mean
when I use the words good folks, “I'm under a major HOSTILITYGRAM
today, YO YO YO YO YO YO.
I
do not exaggerate when I say that you never be able to be revealed
the full story that is behind all of this. First, did the great girl
of Tennessee Avenue really reincarnate into MC? Well, only the
Buddhists would believe this, no matter if I posted up an entire
galaxy, and don't laugh, as in a parallel universe, I pushed some
Louise Hendershodt buttons, and moved a solar system, many galaxies
away, before logging off of the cosmanet program. I knew about these
RED X things back in 1967, when I was in Northeast Maryland, at a
summer-camp there, directed then by Mister Tibbs, and my counselor
was a cousin to the well known broadcaster of those days, Les Kaiter.
His name was Mack. Well, Mack, Mark, and the Roofdog
Club of the mighty Atlantic City,
all notwithstanding; will never allow anyone of significance to
understand Morianity and its wild inconceivable and surreal truths,
let alone, in my lifetime, Mister Earcutts Vangough, ever permit me
to be aided and comforted by anything I ever try and tell, and I
fully am aware of this, as Dennis Snyder's voice of doom is ringing
in my ear right now even as I speak these electronic words right now,
“That's just reality, son”!!!
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
00110
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
{{(5555555555555555)}}
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! BANG BANG BANG, YES GINA,
I TOLD YOU, LIFE JEST KEEPS GOING AND THERE IS ONLY AN ILLUSION OF A
TIME ORDER, IT IS NO MORE REAL THAN ANYTHING ELSE NOT PART OF THE
MOTHER FUCKING GREAT VOID INFINITY!!!!!!!!
The
evil mother fucking neighbors across from me, began their 'BING
BANG BONG BOOMING' of
doors; over, and over, and over again; FORT PIERCE POLICE
DEPARTMENT, AND NARCOTICS DIVISION! I was going to go out later on in
the afternoon, but it was as though the forces of Misses 1969 Marola,
and her 'MUST
HAVE ME DO THE SCHOOL PLAY' ON MEMORIAL DAY, stuff all
over again; that put me on some perfect cosmic schedule, just as it
did back then, to be on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, at a
perfectly timed minute and second, so as to witness and experience
something; and this time, it was again, all done for me to be
someplace, and witness another awesome something; and so let me now
get to all of that. First I spoke to my Resident Manager, after
returning from my errands, and not initially. All I did was take out
my trash and throw it down the chute on my floor near the elevators,
even my mail was not checked and received by me, until I returned
back to the building. I wanted to get up to the HARVEST, and see my
old pal, JASPER. I was not going to rest, until I told him a very
horrible thing that Mikey had accused him of, with no evidence or
real good reason whatsoever, and we will not get into it all,
although, the local television reporters may know just exactly what
is being talked about here right now on this blog. I never agreed
with him about this, and did not like it when he did all that trash
talking, but only after he totally screwed me over and vanished, was
I boiling mad, and decided a few days ago that indeed, I would
retaliate and tell Jasper how he has been trash talking his
reputation all over town, and he has, and then Jasper told me, he is
aware that someone in fact was spreading that around, and he was
quite appreciative to learn that it was Mikey. I only rat out rats
that deserve it. Only if you hurt me will I rat you out on something,
really hurt me, and for no good dam ass reason. If I see something
that is none of my business, I walk on, and that is that. I have seen
and witnessed enough things in my life to write a billion essays on
it, but again, I stress that I am not a rat. A rat does this. I do
not really tattle-tail. I just feel that when someone does me real
friggin' wrong, then they deserve a little payback, and if most
people are honest with themselves, they will tell me they agree with
me. Now I mean this people, be sitting down for what I'll tell you
next, MLI, (MORIANS, LESSIANS, INBETWEENIANS) and also known as 'AKA'
(L-4), or Laddies, Lassies, Labbers, and
Labrador-dogs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There
is no way that what has happened to me since 1967 in Atlantic City,
New Jersey, right down to all my time here in Florida, more than
three and a half years now; can mathematically support a conclusion
of anything less, than Morianity being the far best as of yet in
2013, explanation for me, my life, and the entire Planet Earth, and
the interconnectedness of all of this horror. The math proves that I
am right, and if I ever tried to really do something with this
information, life as you all know it right now, would collapse
virtually overnight. THAT'S A
PROMISE, lovely 'woMO', no sports
murderers needed, no advanced radar systems needed, or girls who
write about ''crazy cursing dudes'' either. So Sorry, ambassador,
again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hyperspace
and dreams and exploratrons. This is the true and honest TRINIDAD,
and if you south of most borders, we would alter this word to
TRINITY. The words merely alter depending on a mailing address, Mike
McNulty. So before the Callio/Carey branch of this lovely group go
back to their silliness AOA (all over again), here are some tid bit
scraps about how this works, when brought down to a more human world
thinking level. Remember that the math proves all the words I speak,
and anyone reading this may reproduce it in any way they so choose to
do, and take it5 to any large university, to the top dog physics and
or mathematical and statistical analysis departments, and they will
tell you that what I say here is all the dam ass truth. Yes, I only
thought that the late 2009 AT&T television commercial was the
deep end of MC's inconceivable 'darker' sense of humor; and I totally
admit to being fully wrong and ignorant. Folks, the reason we see
twins of people, you know, lookalikes, the reason many unexplainable
events happen, from the pyramids being built, all the way to any
unsolved and seemingly unexplained mysterious event in human history,
is explainable only with the truth of the five full dimensions of
Astral-Dream-Down material tangible realities. I don;t dare say right
now what I would like to say, but I will, it is just a matter of
really screwing up my courage, as it will most likely, lead me to the
realization of my recurring nightmares of ending up in prison. I have
said way too much Mister Rockford McGuire, but hear this, oh lovely
family. I AM FOREVER, so no matter what you do to me, I AM HERE. I
have uncovered maybe 10-20 percent of the secrets, and when it
reaches 40-80, this is when things will become quite interesting.
This world is clueless to the power of my words on this blog, no
matter what they think they may know about all of this Morianity,
they know jack. I know jack, for that matter. Still, if Jack = X,
then I am at maybe 3.67029572X, on a scale from 1-1000. But give me
some time, and Pope, YES, I'll blow this whole thing right down, that
is unless all this nightmare stops, lovely B.E.G. Laugh at me all you
want to, you're in great company, girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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.
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?
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 22, 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.
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
00110.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
My
health has been hit hard by the WOMO-MILITUFORCE recently, and I have
been resting and recuperating as best as possible under my miserable
circumstances. I will not be able to tell a long bunch of things,
until I am feeling better. Still and all, this is merely all a lot
more ammunition for me to use against the enemy at a later time, as
all things fit together always and forever, and escaping that
reality, is as impossible as many other mysterious other ones. One
thing out of two things that will be told that are quite large and
major, folks; should be obvious to a pint sized moron mind, and this
would be, I said I would prove time travel is going on all around us,
and ever since I said this, my health was struck very very very hard,
lovely 1984 'Ingrid', whoever you are, or 'were', for REALE! Oh may
the mighty winds a blow, me freeends!!!!!!!!! Ahh laddies and
lassies, let me go on with me blog naol.
The
second thing that would be obvious to many, if they were living
through my journey and waltzing around in my small yet Titanic
connected 'Quoddy's, is the mighty and gorgeous Lightning Goddess
Diana Arteemis. She has been all over, to the east of me out at sea,
to the west by the lake or further out at the west coast of the
state, to the north above me and the south below me, but she just
will not come right around me, actually, hardly at all so far this
year, has Fort Pierce experienced any nice lightning activity. Feel
free to monitor the posted weather chart that shows her positions at
whatever time you click onto the blogs. Now, a Resident Manager from
another Public Authority Building, back in New Jersey, in 1989 and
1990, a man named Nathaniel, whose last name will remain anonymous;
told me that he did not want me near his family, and to please keep a
distance from him, and his wife and children. He was quite firm and
polite, but he meant business. He had witnessed a powerful
unexplainable thing that had happened to me, as the building security
guard. It is told about in more detail on several past blogs, and
needs not be reiterated now, for time's sake. Now this was a mere
flesh and blood human being, who as all of us, are vulnerable to
attack in many and numerous ways, and we are all frail and delicate,
even big powerful muscle people. We all injure and die a lot easier
than in the mother fucking movies, and THAT, Dennis Snyder, sir; ''is
just reality, son''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My pernt here Mister
Archibald Queens Bunker, is THISSSSSSSSS! Lightning has times, when
even SHE is afraid to be too near me. You can all choose to believe
and or disbelieve parts or all of the Morianity story, but I will
tell you in plain truth, I make nothing up, I imagine nothing, these
are not a bunch of absurd psychotic delusions and mental disorders;
and if you were a fly on my skin, for the past 30 years or so; THEN
YOU WOULD KNOW, AND ONLY FUCKING THEN, that these words are all
dangerously deadly TRUE
AND TOTALLY REAL!
My
simple point here today is that if LIGHTNING, who most people fear
and revere and are aware of its power and greatness, is too scared to
be around me; then what IS around me, that NATE,
and Her, and many others throughout my long HELLIFE, all are
so terrorized by, without any numbers of nine or one involved. Yes,
we do not have any 'nine oh one situations', or 'botbar quad one
buildings', or Technion Furniture outlets involved here, but
'something' or 'someone', is involved in all of this, right Kraptain
Kaymart Kirk??????????????????
This
is nothing new about lightning by the way. I have been following this
ever since the middle eighties when all of this fucking nightmare
shit began for me, good people! I do not hide stuff, and there are no
secrets in MORINAITY. It is all in plain view, but if it does not
quack like an EARTHDUCK, many will never be able to hear any of it no
matter how plainly it barks out at you. This is why Jesus, after the
great resurrection, was recognized as slightly different in
appearance, when in fact and truth, the difference was in the mind's
eye of the many beholders, who just could not totally escape the
EARTHDUCK QUACKING SYNDROME. They
see, they hear, but it is all fake steak and techno-pop. The problem
is that everything shares a commonality and this is that nothing is
really real, so then, what the fuck is phony, anyway? When anyone
figures out that little powerhouse wisdom bite, share it please, and
then, you are definitely ready to understand the following little
quick squib about Morianity hating secrets, and why the LORD called
EARTHERS, ''hypocrites'' over and over again, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-NA
WELLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don't care if it is the example of
several months back with Mister Woods-golfer and fiance', or anyone
out here with a Facebook account, or any social media. How can you
keep a straight face, and do all this stuff; and then hate the
government for supposedly spying on you? Also, when Tiger and his
girl posted all that stuff up, and then demand their privacy, no
offense, and this is just an example using name recognized people to
make a better point; but millions of you all are biblically described
so perfectly. The NSA is not taking your privacy, you all have been
giving it away for years, and then you complain. Now as for me, I
have a message to get out, and could care less how many people are
spying on me. Spy on, rock on, roll on, roll over and play dead for
all I care, I mean folks, get real; this is totally ass ridiculous.
If anyone could care less, Morianity has told you now, for seven or
eight years, that this was all true; only no millions of people know
my name, the way that they know the dude who squealed. Also, FYI
lovely folks, they don't HAVE TIME to give a shit about you or me or
our lives. The entire planet has been under surveillance for decades,
and the teck is just better recently and so it all has come out, but
not to burst any bubbles or egos out here, but unless you are
planning on doing something that is a threat to America, they don't
even know your name, or want to. They have raw data that great
programs examine and analyze, with a time backlog that you would not
believe. They are just now examining the most important
key-word-signaled data from 5-10 years ago, and this is why they were
not on top of the 911 event. The manpower is lacking, not the teck.
If you could record just 6 hours of the day, 40 of your favorite
television channels, tell me how you will ever catch up to watching
it all back? You'll get an ever increasing lag time as time keeps
passing. The NSA is not the problem. The problem is social media out
of control and nutty people. How can you get out there and tell your
life to an open world, and then expect or try and demand 'PRIVACY'?
It's the quintessential oxymoron if ever there could be one. Either
want the world to know your name, or don't, but why do you all
vacillate back and forth? If you have accounts and tweet out your
basic life moves 24-7, then what's your problem with big brother
reading the same pages, hay, call me dumb peeps, I just don't get any
of it, so if I am missing something, why not straighten out this dumb
old fuck?
People
say that I'm fucking Looney Tunes. Fine, I guess I am, because for
the life of me, I simply do not get the new age American citizens,
and really for the most part, the entire new age so-called civilized
global internet society. I mean really, I have had things happen to
me that go beyond the fucking known universe, and have begun to write
and record about it ever since 1995. I've copyrighted shit, written
music, written blogs, it is all real, and I only hope the dam fucking
feds read it and examine it all. None of this shit makes one bit of
sense to me, so if it does to you, and you will not ever comment and
explain this to me in a full paragraph and not a dumb ass 15 word or
less bird chirp, well, to me, I see myself dead center in a huge
jungle with billions of folks beating their chest and doing Tarzan
imitations. Hay why not, we can call him, Techno-Tarzan, huh Mister
WD of the non electronic fluid realms? Yes Mike McNulty, you
certainly surely may, so go for it, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEE----NA
and Nina, signing off FOR RIGHT NOW, WHAAAAAABIT!!
THAT'S
END TRANSMISSION, FOLKS!!
1 comment:
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