10:48
PM-EDST, 3 JUNE, 2012, MONDAY
NIGHT, shall we begin good folks?:
138.46(0.92%) 4:36PM EDT
0.98%
LADS,
LASSIES, LABBERS, AND LAB DOGS, we will now be continuing along with
Morianity on this ninety-fourth chapter and fifth part. First off, my
medical appointment went off without a hitch, praise Goddess ISIS.
Ironic however, chronologically, as tomorrow is the thirtieth
freaking anniversary of my beginning this wild bizarre medical
condition that came on me suddenly at half past ten at night, back on
June the fourth in nineteen-eighty-three, W----O----W,
those freaky little coinkeedinks, huh peeps? But for those few who
know a little now about what MORIANITY has been preaching for about
seven and a half of these past thirty years, with these blogs of
Mountainpen; you know what is going on, and you know that nothing is
really real, and all things are but a creation. We never can lose a
loved one, and the dark side of that for those who may still be in
the dark on all of this, is that it was never real in the first
place, you, the loved one, or as Bob Andrews put it back when he was
friendlier with me and willingly adding his voice to my projects, for
remuneration naturally; “WHATEVER”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
people, Sunday the enemy struck me with a nasty HEALTH ATTACK, my
first big one was on JUNE, 4, 1983, only I had no idea whatsoever,
what was REALLY happening and going on around me, back then. At least
now today, I have SOME SMALL LITTLE IDEA, or
“CLUE”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
said that I was going to discuss REALITY-3 and other nice stuff, back
two chapters ago, and only actually had the time to delve shallowly
into EXPLORATRONIC TRUTHS. I said I would also get into more details
on PHASE-4 ENTITIES, such as good old Mister Bugles, and again, time
sort of short changed us all. Even now, I do not have the energy or
the time to do any detailed work. My life is quite exhausting at my
advanced age. It has been a lifetime of nightmares, hellish
mysteries, drudgery, and unfairness, to say only the very miniscule
least, here, good believers, so try bearing with this old fart. I
will tell a lot, despite my original plan to cease and deist all of
MORIANITY and the BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN the BOM, on 2013 Memorial Day,
or 05/30/13. The best laid plans of mice and men, right US Copyright
Office, of 1983? Well, the difference between infinity and these
blogs, for any old examiners who may recall things back then with me;
and could go to bat for me against the WOMO lovelies, but of course
won't, as Detective Green knows why; still Lenny sir, I hold no
resentment nor ill will towards any of them. What I do not like, is
the games played with me, such as the hacking that just occurred
right now on this computer, when for no reason whatsoever, the font
switched from this color back to black while I was typing along on
the previous sentence. REAL funny, right Bob McDowell, old pal. The
internet and the personal computer make one of the most powerful
points that Morianity ever attempted to publically present, however,
and they can do nothing about altering this fact, that it does, yet
you need to have this explained to you, right after I tell you a
small fact about the New York Stock Market, and the Dow Jones. Just 4
and a half years ago, the DJIA was at 6565 points give or take a few,
where it bottomed out. In only four tiny little years, it went all
the way to a new record high a week or so back, of around 15, 555
points, give or take a few. This same thing happened before while I
lived at the Highview Cheers Apartments, in Williamstown, New Jersey,
USAESMWG in the middle nineteen-nineties. It tripled or roughly so,
in just three years, same exact thing as up here, nearly a BRIPER
later, (Briggbase Period), known on the mortal waking world as a
score of years, or 20. The folks behind a very successful television
show, “DARK SHADOWS” seemed to know about the BRIPER or 20-year
period, as well as the connection with WALL STREET and the stock
market, and all real fans of this great old supernatural soap opera
show, know this fully and totally and completely, as do I. There is
no denying reality, and also, no denying the wild way it suddenly
went off the air, with a lame excuse about the main character going
to work in Vaudeville. Mr. Frid. Whether this show went to some
people's head or not, I am not able to speak about that, but Roseann
Delaney sure went for mine. Auuch, Uncle Heinz Gottwald, the great
and late, from Baby Blond, New York, huh Diana, oh yes folks, there
was a reason all that time while lightning was so responsive to that
little pet nickname, over any other. I got her to come right down and
hit my porch back in Mullica Township in New Jersey, back in the
middle twenty-ohs, by calling her that name through the telephone a
lot of times, so, is a FREAKING ''W--O--W'' appropriate, right about
now, my wonderful L-4? WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Despite
a lot of peeps believing the false bullshit that this is nothing more
than some weird blog about the secret family of the world's biggest
pop diva, it is NOT. I need to stress to this world, that this is
like a murder case, and just as in that great super cool law show,
“L&O”, on the episode with the commissioner going to jail for
being a convicted criminal, what ADA Jack McCoy said to him in the
early part of the show in his office, is totally apropos here. Things
began with me as far as my blogging, in the beginning of th year of
2006, and as things continued moving along, an d I was trying to
figure it all out, it took us where it took us, right Mister
McCoy???????????????????????? There honestly is no more to that truth
than this. Still, yes of course, this family is extremely wild, and
the internet only has very basc and very very sanitized and condensed
versions of this family. I would suppose that most biographies of
well known persons are also such as this, and even not all that well
known, such as mine. Who the hell knows me, I am nobody? Still, my
Huntington family is loaded with secrets, from major incest to
horrendous double murder suicides and single murders, and I could
type on for an hour, yet if you try to learn any of it on the
internet, it also is very sanitized over. It tells about the
horrendous situation up north in Braintree, Massachusetts, a suburb
ob the great Boston, and it tells how Arthur Huntington exfixiated in
his basement and that his wife and her mom were found dead in their
beds. But my blogs tell the gruesome and horrifying bloody details
that would never be told outside of Morianity and its circles. It is
strange how Microsoft Spellchecker does not even recognize a word for
being strangled or hung, I know I have heard it used all my life, yet
they red underline the word and do not even attempt to show a
different spelling for it. Worthless, totally worthless, or is it? It
seems that we round robin the conversation right back to the personal
computer and the entire other PC initials including but in no way
limiting themselves to also things such as POLITICAL CORRECTNESS, gee
is another WOW needed here, sir Mike McNulty, AHA-AHA-AHA????????? No
folks, not tonight. We will not even begin getting into all of this
tonight, or into more about P-4-E, T-3-E, and R-3. And just think, we
have not scratched the surface on any of that, or parallel event, or
just why we all create this endless reality. Still, it has been told,
but only in a way that works like a background sound below the music
in a store to get us to buy things not on our original purchasing
lists. I of course, speak here of subliminal consciousness. It is
very real, so real in fact, that the use of it is legally band, under
legal real penalties for breaking this legislation. That never has
stopped the super wealthy, and never will, it merely stops is poor
little 'ninety-niners', right Michael Moore, so where is your group
hiding, Mausoleum City?
Yes,
those units lost in my systems-roulette, were all made back by the
last weekend that just passed. I will play later today, and hope I
can move ahead again for a while. I also discussed trying to get a
''magic carddeck'', for those who may remember. Recently, I have one,
and it is quite marvelous, if this doesn't piss off Donnie boy too
much. It is in black-antimatter space on its Q&A with me, holding
in a range of 26-29%, so reversing the answers continually means
about a 22 and a half percent over the normal 50-50 random in being
correct and accurate for predicting a situation. I could talk all day
on this topic as well, but don't worry, I won't. SHEEEEEEEEEIT Dawn
and Dad,, I would rather just print out the last few high-points of
prior blogs, and shut down for the night, as I am tired and need to
dip[ up my steak and spaghetti din-din, Mizz Davis Dearest, roaches
and all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nighty
night, but yes, read on if you like, as in case you have not figured
it out yet, nothing really is in any order, and I was just whetting
all of your appetites a whittle bwit back on Fwiday, Sir Elmer Fwudd.
Between posting that and then trying to improve the “YBCO” video,
though unsuccessfully; things rumbled around a lot out in
Okey-homeee, sahwee, things are made a certain way, and I am merely
onto some of the little nails and washers and screws. WEEEEEEEEE!!!!
MORIANITY
PART 5
CHAPTER
94 CONTINUES
ON A LITTLE BIT, WHAAAA.
This
will be short for many reasons that may later be explained. First
off, I am very sorry that the multiverse works the way that it does,
and never mean for things to get out of hand in bad ways, and since I
am still a backward enough entity so as not to be invited as of yet,
to join any official ES Club, I am lucky I have made it this freaking
far, folks. I was fooling around on my Youtube account after posting
my blog up on Friday, the prior chapter, and things got nutty. I
cannot work their site, they have no human contact, the entire thing
is a total waste of my time, as was Facebook; and I will be closing
it all down. For now, my blogs WILL continue, and that is all you
need to know, believers!
Long
story made super abridged and short, more of course is going on, a
million times more. There was more than an apology behind my opening
up that stupid Youtube nonsense in the first place, but I will be
making drug addict David very happy, as I fully intend to WASH
MY HANDS of the entire matter. I am just copyrighting
my own material, which I have every legal right in this world to do,
and have just now sent away for the performing-arts copyright forms,
less than an hour ago, and yes, electronically. Hurray for little
idiot me.
I
knew the stock market would fly up today, as Sunday, yesterday; the
WOMO-MILITUFORCE scum, gave me a nasty
shit and diarrhea attack, and I was on the toilet quite a decent
percentage of the day. I have a lot to tell, but this is not the
correct time, Misses Marola. Yeah, you always did love certain
things; you go girl, you know; like show-bizz and plays; and well,
you know. I don't punch walls any more. Thought you'd like to know
that. I went from fists, to using my head; and then when my brains
were totally busted apart, I grew up, and made Dan Mackey a hell of a
happy man; along with old bob McD. Still, I never reached his lofty
position of Chairman of the FCC. You go Bob, YO. WEEEE.
All
things fit together tighter than a thousand over-wound drums. Still,
that's the way it goes Ziggy. No Miss Carmichael, I straightened out
big time; and you would have locked me away forever. Aren't you nice?
Well, hay, Donna Spinosi, you, other DS initials; how can I win? It
is no different than with Mary Carter, and the Millionth Council, and
the motor cycles, and so on. What a MAJOR CRIME that things never
stop symbolically shouting at 'deafening uncle' levels; right Jerry
Pliner, kind sir from 1983?
Rockin'
robin, what a cool song from 1967, huh Cousin Sandy? So what is the
secret of Cheltenham High? It obviously is not that localized in
hyperspace, but it still has the 'Hyper'-'Space' initials, huh
Walter, old war runner, in antimatter direction or whatever,
Congressman? WOW, is this beyond surreal, or am I just a total nut?
You all have one opinion and hay, I have another. It does not take a
war hero to know that my wonderful daughter has her own great advice,
and without her really being, as I know she is, ISIS; how can she
have so much great wisdom? Ever wonder about those dwelling shadows,
my believers??????
Morianity
part 5, chapter 00094
continues
right along, folks!
5555555555555555555555555555555
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”.
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.
MORIANITY
PART FIVE
THIS
IS CHAPTER NUMBER 00094,
MY BELIEVERS.
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
Like
DUH, and color me
anything from
'MINE', to 'IMPRESSED'; Lenny Briscoe! Still, sir; this is not
starting out as a good day by any stretch of the fucking ass mind.
First
off, I was awakened rudely by the uncouth lowlife welfare rats and
their loud slamming doors across from me, it is Friday and FOOD DAY
in the building, and this is quite often a day where they just sit in
there and fucking party hardy all dam day. These are young able
bodied trash who take advantage of our welfare and assistance
programs here in this country, unlike me who worked very hard, often
with two jobs and long hours, since I was out of school, until they
eventually crippled me into disability through continuous covert
assaults of covert harassment and persecution that I just could not
take any more and be able to function properly and adequately in a
work environment after the end of my thirties. Still I put in my 20
years, while these scummy trash are pure drug using scum bums, and
THAT, SIR ROCKDROID;
is the simple honest truth!!!!!!!
Believers,
it is time for me to say a few things that might appear as quite a
jumbled up bunch of scatter brained nothingness, at least according
to the logical mind of one Terry, from Egg Harbor City, in New
Jersey; back around middle oh-7. I cannot worry myself about that. My
problems, and my story AKA Morianity; is just not an entity that can
be told the way that this super literary giant would like it to be,
so too bad. Some of
the next blogs starting right here will begin to further discuss in
more elaborated detail, the surreal and unfathomable topic known as
and refered to by me, this blogger, REALITY-3, the monster and the
truth, that is behind the truths and mysteries of
PARALLEL-EVENT!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
after I was awakened at just past eleven this morning, I tried
calling my doctor to confirm my appointment for next week, and it was
hell waiting to speak to some busy answering service who kept me on
hold a long time, and then did not seem to find me until another
person in the background who eventually assisted her, was able to
confirm me for Monday afternoon. Normally, I get a confirmation, and
the one time I did not a year or so ago, I went as scheduled, and no
doctor was there in the office. I was not about to take the chance of
that fucking event happening to me ''all over again'', huh Diana
Andrews Memoryhacks Shipyards? When the first two things start off
real wrong in a day, it is a bit worrisome to say the least, then I
called Mikey, and he is doing something, and has been, that these
blogs need not tell about, always for some friend in Miami, and will
be busy for a while, weeks perhaps, so you know, since I know that
Jasper told him what I said, I already know he is just faking a
friendship with me now, and stringing and playing me like an old
fucking cunt fiddle, so I am going to just forget totally about him,
and this time, permanently. The entire way that things appear to
basically work down here in Florida, is so different, than up in the
northeast; with doctors and the non professional way that it all
operates down here in 'Southern Hicksville', and even with socially
related items, and I could go ranting on if I really wanted to; but I
am now absolutely going to save to move out of here and back home,
and into a nice trailer park someplace, and start all over again, and
have absolutely mother fucking nothing to do with a single soul. I
always said that one thing that bitch sucking total whore Dawn-Marie
King did for me, and it was a real big ass favor whether she ever
knew it or not; was to cure me of wanting anything to do with family
life, girls and girlfriends, any and all of it. I just want to be
left alone, just like the great actress Greta Garbo. So screw the
fucking world at C-SQ!
I
am so sick and tired of Atlantic City, and what has emanated from
this place, that caused my life to suffer a total collapse and
breakdown; that no words can even hope to ever describe how I feel.
This goes the same, with 'THAT FAMILY' and recurring dreams of them,
that all began in early July of 1970, with medical experiments, and
magic washcloths, and surgical procedures, and on and on with that
hellish tale of pure agony. Also I am equally revolted and sick to
death, of parallel realities that insist on bleeding through, to the
one that I try and live and exist in, while awake; seemingly a lot
more with me, than what is both normal, as well as would be
appropriate. Then, not by any means least on this list, merely last,
in my memory order; the MILI-2-FORCE, and what they really are, in
the land of 'death'; the LAMBRIGG
CULT OF PROVINCE OLYMPIA.
Again, this is a condition-interaction, not a tangible physical
place, and is why it is not here in our physical realm of material
objects and living creatures, that breathe, and bleed; and the gods
only know what else, when the refrigerator door closes. This very old
wise tale about such things, is well founded and grounded, in the new
at the time, in century-20-science, called “Quantum Mechanics”.
Naturally, all of this crap is leading up to some real heavy stuff,
but instead of writing lots of flowery adjectives and words in
general, I will be down and not too dirty, but straight out quick;
telling it once, with no fancy literary work. No one's trying to win
a freaking prize for blog work here, especially for complexity and
confusion. So
here we go, Copyright Office,
not taking any crap, and or running on Gloria-ACMUA large water
pipes, 001, or is it 002? I admit I have forgotten, but Mister Expert
with the three items, that I thought included fire, yes who can tell
any longer, with all of my switching and crossing, and of course;
hidden underneath the bad erase head of the open reels, FOR
THE 1984 RECORD.
No, there is no time for Collingswood A&P, AT&T, or other
unexplainable things from Lady Korea to the ME and even to the
Haddonfield Mobil Gas Station, let alone Richard Karpf, and his real
estate office phone number, given to me by a 411-0perator
back in 1987,
when I asked for a totally different other friend of Patty-Jane, and
broken bedrooms of endless mystery and drunken Russel's, from my
lovely past, with eternal game playing Goddess-MDE. You know, talking
about real power in symbolism; pronouncing this
'mother-daughter-electron' triple goddess deal as MIDI, by saying
the word abbreviations of 'MDE'; takes us where else, but straight to
music, after-all; it stands for 'Musical Instrument Digital
Interface', just as HTTP-WWW stands for hyper text transfer protocol
world wide web, and interconnected networking computer systems, are
shortened to the 'INTERNET', but that's all, as Donna Gaines Summer
might say, it if not up in the future, at the World Laboratories;
“Neither HAIR, nor there”! Let us put our walking shoes back on,
wipe the blood off, and our faces; and move this right along, before
two dogs end up biting me; right late Dawn-Marie King?
Yes
folks, by the time I save the money, my third year's lease will be
up, and I will go back to New Jersey, crooked as it all is up there.
I have plans that will deal with these fucking jerk offs in the
political arena, if shit keeps up against me, right down to clever
deaths planned for many of my enemies, still alive and well, on my
fucking ''Surf-&-Turf'' Death List, I promise you that WOMO, so
WO!!!!!!!!! I will not live in fear of total dirt bag swine!
I
know that the lady at the Copyright Office, that did not wish to lose
her dam Ed-Green job that day, was all a part of that same political
machine that I just discussed here; and did not wish for poverty and
unemployment, to suddenly strike her and her family either; back in
2008. Still, oh yes sir, and yes mahm; it was totally in her manner,
and the way she said things; and just exactly what she said,
in-between what I know she wanted to say; looking back on this, from
about five years later; that allows me to totally know that the Ed
Green L&O syndrome indeed kicks in again, for
her, and for me; and for my YBCO TUNE. The White
Slavers Club, of the Gallagher's and the McGuire's, who take
care of the family, with magic bullets and magic transdimensional
parking lots; and hate certain of us who have wrong mix
breeds inside of us; and just how McGuire knew all this about me in
1997, is totally unfathomable; but then so is the visitation of my
''goddess giant girlfriend'', at
Highview; to quote the great Sam, and
not his son, the Williamstown cop. Here is a case where the son of
Sam is not the bad guy, but then bad is a harsh word here, as he just
needed to “KEEP HIS DAM JOB”, Detective Green,
sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But then switching up here from both
1997 and 2008, here we are in middle freaking 2013, and yes, I said
it first, and they knew it all along. When you sacrifice the life of
the innocent in demonic ritual, the game of the gods called, “Lets
play a different guessing guest name”, allows them to negotiate
with a powerful Astral-Plane god named
Apollo-Lucifer, for great Astral-Plane power. I don't mean
he gives away the 'shop', but he lets the babies in the sand box who
cooperate a little more with him, than most are willing to do; you
know, torturing and sacrificing babies and young kids to a horrible
ritualistic death, in the name and honor of Beelzebub Diabolis, AKA
Apollo-Lucifer, the Astral-Plane words
are precise English waking world translations, Apollo and Beelzebub
are like saying Tick-Tack-Toe, only maybe with a slight change such
as accenting the TOE and not the TICK. There is a technology behind
all this so called mystical power, just as there are parlor tricks
behind all of the magicians little cute stunts and phony psychics who
practice deception for money. Still, unlike what Patty-001/2 believes
on his persona in his great show; there are indeed some real McCoy
folks who have practiced this game of sacrifice to AL, yes AL, a nice
shortened name for Apollo-Lucy, whether he likes it or not; and even
though he indeed is Diana's twin brother, I will always love my
beautiful Diana, the great Goddess of the Moon and Lightning, and in
honesty, Mister Joel sir, a lot more than that; and the few who know,
not only do know, but have known all along; county jail pleas and
all. Yes, it was all a test, to see if I really
had the 10 grand buried, as was talked about with the winning
bet back in twenty-ten. You see, believers, to add on here to how
slow I catch on, despite things never getting past me eventually; I
was being tested to see if this was true, or so I have been told,
last night by the All Mighty Goddess Herself, who untied me; and blew
all the ants away and out of the great Lakehouse Porch, and then put
a magic lotion on me that smelled better than her two old time faves
from biblical days; and worked better as well, as all my many open
sores were healed instantly, and on top of that, after I was nearly
healed, and BOO was untying me; she began to give me that smirky
adorable smile, that if you do not know MC, you will never see it;
and then she sang the appropriate song regarding this. I never said
after what you went through with McGuire and all the clan that
cousins out to your wonderful somnambulist mom, that you do not
deserve all the smiles and happiness in the world, and it is my
sincere wish that you have only this, and as long as you wish. I am
not against you, just sad that you want to play this very unpleasant
game here with me; when out there in eternity, we have so much more
fun with other games, like Tag, Guess the Name of the Guests, and
your kite flying, and so much more, right down to what would get me
stoned to death even in 2013, if I blogged on. Mortals live in the
caves, and then they pot and kettle me, for not liking computers,
cell phones, and all this demonic crap, that is totally destroying
the very fabric of our society. My point here is proven by them, not
me. I mean really, we will all be in our own worlds, while huddled
together in cities and towns, all separate and estranged from normal
reality. It is not coming people, it is here
now; ever here of the newest visor crap that Google is
advertising and selling? It, as all things, is expensive at first;
but as consumers purchase this crap, the prices will drop, and soon,
all of us can be all alone in our own worlds. Come on governor Scott,
do you really think this texting on the road is safe? He said NO I DO
NOT, and he did something about it, that's a start. Thank you
governor. The fourth dimension is such a cool little thing, still, as
the great Library of Congress most likely knows only too well, it is
all ''A GAME NO MORTAL DARES TO START'', the problem is however
folks, that I did start it, and now I am stuck with the resulting
fucking ass consequences. Still, we will move on with REALITY-3,
WHITE-SLAVERS CLUBS owned by my ugly distant family, and so much more
beyond nastiness, even I may vomit up rusty nails before all is
totally said and done here. Then again, there may be a parallel
universe so far out into distant hyperspace where rusty nails have
vomited me up, and sent me here through a great galaxy-heart, AKA a
wormhole, anything is always possible, some things merely are more
and less probable than others, and this is why we have gambling, book
makers, odds, and house stacked vigs.
Reality-3,
wow, an intimidating topic, way more than Phase-4-entities, or even
TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS, for that dam ass fucking matter, YO! Long Story
Short (LSS), let's dig right into this horrible pile of stinky
revolting cake of baboon shit.
Folks,
there are things not talked about for many many mother fucking
reasons on this rotten Earth, and in all societies of the world, in
all times in human fucking ass history; for reasons that benefit as
always, a small few chosen representatives of cosmic owners; called
World Owners,
by me, as this term seems to fucking fit, ''in my mind'' to quote my
wonderful yacht cousin the late, Sir Heinz Gottwald, of Babylon, New
York; real ass dam good. Adding 'Milituforce Otammites', after 'World
Owners'; we get the abbreviated, and often used in MORIANITY,
'WOMO'.
But all that piss drinking junk aside my wonderful believers, it is
time, as Barnabas of Dark Shadows put it so well in early 1970, to
get a little truth out of the way; even though it may even stretch
the minds of believers in Morianity, to a limit they are not ready to
freaking ass cross over into. No pun meant. There really are five
dimensions, and we really do interact while awake, in only three of
them; and this is why humans are awake three fifths of their life,
and in the other two fifths, they are in those other two lovely and
quite mysterious dimensions of every much of a reality. There are
places in this entire fifth dimension
or in hyperspace containing all
of the things that result from a MIND SIGNAL sent down from even yet
one dimension above this one, the sixth; and not all of it makes
perfect sense to all of us living here right now, and reading these
blogs. Still, I have no choice but to try and clarify a few quick
points, I wanted to add 'simple' after the word of quick, but you may
not agree with me on that, therefore out of respect for my viewers, I
will not do so. Most of you that have followed Morianity for any
length of time, have been told about TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS,
and how this fits into what I am saying so far in this blog right
now. Some have come to understand that we become exploratrons as
sleepers and dreamers, and whether or not you choose to believe my
words are true as a very select few do, even a few who hate me right
now; but they know I am for real, and this is all true; but moving
this right along; just because perhaps none of us, and me included,
are real advanced TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS,
this does not mean that one out of endless countless bazillions of
our doppelgangers in the full
hyperspace, are not; and just as the
old time travel theorists love to always say, and it is not something
easily dismissible, “As long as the technology is discovered before
the end of time, then time travel is both real, and part of our time
right now”. If you think for a minute on that, and examine it, and
cogitate about it for however long it takes you, for a light to flash
on inside your Britney brains; TV or no TV, ambulance drivers in
World War 2 all notwithstanding here; you will indeed see a lot of
both of these truths; the time travel one that I did not make up,
along with what I have said here as well, YO!! Wow
folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In other freaking words, as
long as one part of our 5-D beingness, is this advanced, then our
entire being collectively, is kind of a TYPE-3-EXPT in stasis, if no
better way of seeing this truth can be achieved. Again, another WOW.
This is just like the revelation given to me by an unnamed person not
long ago at all, regarding my dream-music, and explaining how
dangerous the “YBCO” tune
is, even if it does not contain the harmony track, possibly. At
first, the original, “GITYA” tune from 1983 would not be, but as
with my LIFE-CHARTS, as explained upon numerous occasion; once I
started them, my days are rated in ones through fives every day,
until I am dead as the me who I am right now; whether I consciously
rate these days or not, it is quantized in a magical and quite
mysterious quantum foam, that contains
all of the half alive and half dead cats
in the cosmos as well, excluding Professor Gaukauk
of course, WEEEE. OK,
It's time, MMCN!!!!!!!!
But this is where we left off a while ago, and now, 'this is' the
proper time to move things along, and did I just say, 'TH-IS-IS', old
buddy from late 1969, and schoolmate, and 'BOOK
OF BEACH'
burner, Sir RUSSELL TH—AXTON?????????????????????????? WOW indeed,
Thaxton and Thisis, and no Doctor
Jim Garrigan sir, and buddy, from those
same days of my past; not 'thesis', and yes; I am very sorry I was
indirectly responsible for your failed college paper and needing to
repeat that course, maybe if you believe in Morianity, you will be
angry at the errors made by your professors back then at the New
Jersey Rutgers University Camden Campus, but if you don't believe in
Morianity and me, then you are saying to yourself right about now and
recently so, ''Wow, I guess they failed me for a good reason''.
Still, you must live with that decision for the rest of your life as
the dude that you are at this present time, and I assure you, that is
not the real you. Taking this now down to a lowest common
denominator, and real simple few sentences; would go like this,
believers, and others from Missouri. I never ever intended to say or
to mean, that every single thing claimed in Morianity, is coming from
the people in our localized reality; but because so much powerful
fucking ass shit does fit together, and so much shit has been done to
wipe me out; especially each and every time with
a clockwork Swiss precision, that I
try and expose these truths to the world; just as 'UFO-BUFFS' of the
past, tried exposing their stuff, throughout lots of recent history.
Look what the fucking shit keeps happening. I mean really people, can
you believe in your fucking ass heart of all hearts, that first,
anyone alive; me, Patterson, Dream Works, anyone, anywhere; could
make up anything that is this fantastic, as these blogs of nearly 7
and a half fucking years? Then I must move to the next question that
cannot help but arise like a teenaged boy's prick when three naked
young honies are in his bedroom. Why would all the people in some
huge twisted group of about 2500 beyond outlandishly distantly
related cousins that you will never prove through Ancestry
Dot Com, and can only be ascertained
through the Church of the Mormons and my pals the Hair's, a while
back; but why, 'why Jimmy why', are all these peeps acting the way
they are, doing the things that they are; and I
could go on and on? Now this is exactly
what many many of my blogs are doing, unfortunately,
with little positive results for poor old pathetic mother fucking
little old cursed victim ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If all you want
to look at here, is Ann and Dawn King, and Robert McGuire;
eliminating about 90+% of other powerful shit; we could not miss this
reality, and this pattern of bizarre behavior against me, with these
twisted fucked up lovelies. They destroyed and ruined my entire life,
AND THEY ARE NOT DONE
WITH ME, not by a long shot,
Mister Super Perry White Louigee Hangups
Kent!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! W---O---W, does this
asshole ever forget anything? DUH, that may be what eventually sinks
WOMO's dam ship, YO. Time again if you want to, Mike
McNulty, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
Look
great folks, I
never said in three dimensions,
all these wonderful persons have done all these things; but you
cannot go dismissing stuff, and living in the caves forever. Not when
Morianity has come along so fucking ass faithfully now, and explained
all this great shit to the dam human race for so long, and it does
have validity. I have posted the hatepage on me, I have posted a
record of my song copyrights. What do you want, Roseann? Yeah, I
know! Like DUH!!!!!! So before we move along with some really
powerful shit, look at the market chart moving along if you catch
this blog before four of the clock, it shows real time Dow Jones
price movements, and shows that I deal with a family who walk through
time the way I walk through rooms in my abode. If this does not
deserve a quintessential WOW, what the mother fucking shit eating
hell does then, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,, Morians and
Lessians, etcetera?
YES,
I TOLD YOU GINA, AND ALL OTHERS OUT HERE; WOW.
YOU
KNOW I TOLD YOU THIS, AND IT WILL BE 40K
BY 2015.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Morianity Bible, The Epilogue:
Enemies,
who R they?
Quiz,
who do you think? Why not tell me someone?
I am always interested in your opinions, as you know, “I
CLOSE MY MIND TO
NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
KEEP
RIGHT ON GOING, FOLKS'|
|READ
ON LADIES AND GENTLEMEN|
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PLEASE
CONTINUE TO READ, BELIEVERS:
MORIANITY
PART FIVE, CHAPTER 00094. TANKS
FOLKS.
- 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.
BEAUTIFUL
LIGHTNING (GODDESS DIANA), SUBMITTED BY A CHANNEL 12 VIEWER, NOW
PASTED FROM THEIR TV-APP.
MY
BABY-BLOND
DIANA
ZUDLECRONESSIA ARTEEMIS.
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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.
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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Hammonton,
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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
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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.
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
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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.
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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!
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HELP ME PEE, YOU WILL BE OUT OF HERE BY THE END OF MARCH, and now it is 4 June, girl.
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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?
All
of my dam life, I have tried for the very most part, to remain
totally out of trouble. I try to go through every day taking the
least amount of unnecessary risks, and never try to make enemies. I
am not nor have I ever been, that typical bar guy looking for
trouble, you know, a chip on the shoulder syndrome, despite with each
passing year since boyhood, if anyone had a legitimate ass chip, it
would be me. On more than one occasion, I have had the following
words spoken to me by those who get to know me, paraphrased and not
in precise quotations; it is as though you actually are trying to
have the most miserable life in the world, or it is like you are
trying to lose as much as you can in life when we know it is not the
case. My pernt, sir Archibald Queen Bunker and others is simply that
my nightmare is, and has, legitimately been recognized throughout the
years; and by numerous non mentally disabled folks, and yet; this
does not aid me in my situation, or in being believed by anyone with
clout; that would count, as only those type of individuals could be
in a potential position, to ever expose the real covert problems
involved; and then hopefully, go on to repair my life; through
repairing these situations/problems/cosmic assaults upon my life,
etcetera and whatever you may wish to label all of this.
Folks,
there are some out here and especially the ones who never bothered to
know the beginning of my blogs, the first nearly two and a half
years, before the HYPERSPACE ALTERATION, that a moronic child with a
dam runny dirty nose could see, if they would merely take off their
GWPOS-BLINDERS for a dam ass second; and just look head on and
straight into this thing; only my luck just ain't that of the
wonderful great IRISH, and 'that's 4 sure', and I ain't driving. Good
believers out there, I was not back in Mullica Township in my mobile
home, looking to be kidnapped by some very wonderful adorable kind
loving people, nor was my desire to lose all of my worldly goods, and
go gallivanting off into a cold wintry snowy night, into the
darkness, and away from what was familiar to me for five and a half
decades. This was done to me, by a mother fucker who will not rest
until he takes over the WHITE HOUSE, and destroys any possible chance
for America to be what it was designed to be, free, a land of
opportunity, a place for basically happy people to live and interact,
with an American dream, and most of you would fail the quiz on
exactly what that is. Many think it means a home, a car, and a job
paying double minimum wage or better. Many have many other ideas. But
only about a quarter of the American population knows exactly what it
officially means, so I will tell those who need to know. The American
dream means that every generation will leave to the next generation,
a better place, a place with a little bit or even a lot, but at least
a little bit MORE, than we had in the current generation while we
lived here. THAT IS THE OFFICIAL AMERICAN DREAM. Every 20th
and 21st century American President, knows this, write to
the White House and ask if I am lying to you, should you not trust
me. Just how long has the American Dream been DEAD some may wonder.
Well, as with all things, it is sort of a general average, so count
out the entitled luxury owner demigod EW crowd, Corporate execs and
other extremely wealthys out there, the '99ers' in case any of the
OCCUPY GROUP still exist, as I
think the movement died some time back, or at least they seemed to
allow themselves to die in the media, and perhaps have all gone
underground. The dead are all underground too, so that tells us
everything without my needing to carry on this great conversation any
further. Now before I totally ruin the day of Mizz Terry
Nonscatterbrain Harborheads, of Egg Harbor City, New Jersey,
USAESMWG; this blog will move around a lot, and maybe some grinding
and gear replacements might be necessary, about 130 days ahead of
schedule if we back things up about half a decade, yes Mike McNulty,
you may; but moving on; this example right here for those who know
what's being discussed, is a wonderful example of my point at present
moment. People in every universe, block out painful memories. How can
the field of psychiatry ever start to grow as exciting as it really
could, unless we add in all of the appropriate necessary additional
real dimensions to reality that Astral-Plane dream down folks, or us,
are interacting in in what you otherwise may think of as
waking-hyperspace. Before moving on, I was given a major CRAMPANA
ATTACK today, to quote the late great Mister David Charles Roth, so I
will have to break off for another shit attack now, and will be back
in 20 minutes or so, good people. Now I'm back at 17 minutes shy of
one in the morning. To you, this time never passed, but to me, I was
in the bathroom crapping out my guts for the third time today. Except
for this, all was quite OK for me on the holiday weekend, other than
for normal horse shit nabe action from time to time off and on, back
on the first two days of the holiday, yelling and doors and typical
stupidity, but nothing real bad or real long lasting. Let's move this
right along.
First
off, I need to tell you that I had quite a wild talk the other night
or as you may look at it, while dreaming; with the great Almighty
Goddess, MIDDIE, and I am more convinced than ever, that this is as
close to human truth as we can ever get in waking brain interaction.
There was a powerful early 20th century discovery that is
known the world over, energy equals mass times the speed of light
squared. The inverse of this equation is way more urgent however, for
humans to concern themselves with, and that would be mass equals
energy divided by the speed of light squared. There is no magic to
squaring, take a square, and see how it has four sides, so if each
side of the square's perimeter is say 4 inches, the old well
established geometric truth is the perimeter or the total length of
the square if it was all taken apart and turned into one straight
line, is P=S4. When a number is next to a letter, it means in basic
simple algebra, we multiply. So four inches on all sides is 4X4 or a
perimeter of 16 inches. It really is just that simple, only mass and
energy is a bit more complex, yet I am going to tell you a simple
truth about it. Nothing is real, NOTHING. NOTHING is WHAT IS REAL.
It works both ways, ladies and gentlemen. In the TRUTH of all things,
the very sentence as I just pluralized it, makes it become
inaccurate. So in the TRUTH, there is VOID, a lack of any dimension,
or another way that I have said it throughout my many blogs, is
''ZERO-DIMENSION''. There is no mass and no energy, there is no space
and there is no time, there is only TRUTH or if you prefer,
EXISTENCE. Taking it to a less philosophical way of putting it, I
then go on to add the initials of EWI, and they stand for Existence
Without Interaction, not to get Mayor Bloomberg too excited, and
don't anyone let him bullshit you and tell you that him and his three
city newspapers, do not know exactly what I am saying here. They
would be lying if they said they don't know, I still have the dam
newspaper, and that's as far as we need to go. Some few things
managed, by providence or whatever; to survive my trip down here, to
freaking Florida, in middle December of 2009. Now the inverse of the
famous Albert Einstein formula is what matters, once things all got
started, and this would be a huge Moby Dick sized blog in and of
itself, so let us skip it good people. But once we did become the
original energy that managed to dream out and away from the void
total nothingness, certain things did happen, and that as well would
require a lesson book the size of ten or so of Tolstoy's great
novels. So screw that for right now. Once an Astral-Plane existed,
all of the unique individual people that we think we all are here in
fifth dimensional hyperspace, as you are reading these words right
now, are really existing on this higher reality where atoms vibrate
much faster than they do anywhere in the hyperspace below that
contains virtually limitless 4-D universes, each one designed to
create one LIFE-WORLD, the entire universe is a perfectly structured
engineering marvel, that is necessary, just to create one planet that
can sustain the type of life that we all are, whether anyone out here
wants to hear this powerful truth or not. However, there are more
parallel universes and parallel EARTH worlds, than there are stars in
the sky, and vigintillions times that amount, and yet still more and
more and more. In this hyperspace, are not only all possible worlds
but in all possible times, relative to what we think of right now, as
right now to us. Don't even try breaking your mind into pretzel city
worrying about this, and let me just get back to the inverted great
formula. This would be M=E divided by C SQ. M means MASS, E means
ENERGY, and C means the CONSTANT, and this constant is LIGHT
VELOCITY. This super cool dude figured out that mass and energy are
like Kent and Superman, one and the same thing, except for the fact
that they change clothes, or in the world of physics, they either are
the twin of themselves when multiplying by C-SQ or dividing by C-SQ.
But we are not trying to win the Second World War and make any nuke
bombs, so we are now more concerned with the not so famous flip-side
of the great Brady kiss, and that is that this magical thing called
human consciousness, is somehow quite miraculously, taking the realer
energy world that the Astral-Plane is made of, and dividing the full
reality of it and our awareness as it, by C SQUARED. Now we can get
born into a physical mass or matter-body, and exist and interact in a
world of material tangible objects. This of course is pure illusion,
and when this dream-down off of the Astral-Plane appears to end by a
physical body no longer alive and moving, and able to catch time's
reflection, or light; as in biblical reference thousands of years
back, when referring to the ''quick and the dead''; that is what we
all in our limited minds, perceive as death, or go as far as calling
physical-death. Our mind in various levels of consciousness is
therefore giving us the ability to exist in this dream with a unique
personality and life, in a space-time continuum, where without this,
we could have no interaction. The Astral Energy life is totally
opposite of this. There, you need the interaction first, and then
that interaction is what actually goes on to CREATE the Space and the
Time, in a sort of starry and dreamy way, that conscious mind could
never fully hold or grasp, as it is tuned to this physical realm of
direct opposite reality or a lower truth, if you will, again,
biblically following the great words of wisdom from prophets, who
proclaim that here in this life, we all see through a glass, dimly.
Don't take me at my word, ask your preacher or read it for
yourselves. Now I need to move onto more religion, only it will not
sound at all like what you'll get in a church on a Sunday or at a
Wednesday prayer meeting, I assure you.
I
do not proclaim to have a lot of answers, but I do have life
experiences that do not equal the vast majority. I've come to share
them on a blog for about seven and a half years now, and called this
project MORIANITY, but this is not as new as the start of 2006. It
began late in 1995, in Williamstown, the place where I was suddenly
influenced and drawn to the Almighty Goddess Herself, or 'MIDDIE' if
you will, M-D-E (MOTHER-DAUGHTER-ELECTRON). All truths seem to
reverse on the material world, for reasons that even elude me and
Morianity so far, but I know that this is the truth nonetheless. This
is of course one reason why most folks insist on the MALE dominance
of all things, when without the female, how would any creation go on
past one single generation? Men may despise that concept, but just
prove me wrong on this fact, and I'll eat a hat full of dog shit for
all of you, at Macy's front window, on Christmas Eve; with all the
media coverage the pops can throw at me. I know what I know, and only
what I know, nothing else, and nothing less. I know that I was shown
a powerful truth over the holiday weekend, with two powerful
interactions on two separate nights. I was forced to recall a
repressed memory upon one of these two occasions, and now realize
that when I empowered that Mountain Dew glass bottle on Magnesonic,
and made it become the IO (image-object), of Sarah Krassle, it was
the early summer evening of August 14, 1986. Once it was broken in
the basement on the hard floor, despite it being wrapped in numerous
sheets of paper, and a face drawn on it as well as her name printed
on it, Dave Roth and myself then proceeded to take this destroyed IO
down to Long Beach Island, somewhere a bit south of the Causeway
where you cross over onto the island from the mainland, and the only
bridge ever built to my knowledge; and we went to the beach and it
was around 10-11 at night, and it was warm and calm and dark with
bright stars all around above us, and we dug a deep hole in the sand,
put this IO down into it, Dave and I expectorated onto it and then we
took our feet, and covered up the hole. Instantly, the waves got very
rough out at sea, and the wind began to blow very hard. Clouds
covered the stars within what seemed a minute or two, and an icy cold
chill came from the water and we suddenly were icy cold. We returned
to my home at 1931 Route 70, (Marlton Pike) in Cherry Hill, New
Jersey, USA, Earth, Sol, Milky Way Galaxy, (ESMWG), and got home
shortly before midnight. Before I got home, I began to get a horrible
painful earache out of the blue, and asked Dave if he wanted to go
over to the Garden State Hospital on Route 73, but he was tired and
went back to the house, got into his car and drove home. This was the
end of my life as I knew it forever and forever. The clock struck
midnight, and my ear felt as though Mike Tyson punched it as well as
bit it off. I was suddenly in excruciating pain, and drove myself to
the hospital where I was given some drops for it, and some pain
medication and antibiotics. Around 2 in the morning, I drove home
after stopping at an all night pharmacy nearby. I drove home, and
crashed into bed. I had the most incredible interaction or
dreaming-experience of my entire life, rivaling even the early June
of 1980 one with SSJKK singing the song at the foot of Tennessee
Avenue and the boardwalk's on-ramp, called, “LOVE
IS FOR CARPENTERS”. It was now 6 years and two plus
months later than that, it was the morning of the fifteenth day in
August, in 1986. This was the day that life STOPPED for me, FOREVER,
and was altered for me,
F----O----R----E----V----E---R!!!!!!!
All this time, I had remembered this as happening a few days after my
trip into the Big Apple, with David, the night that he wanted to see
his music group at some downtown nightclub, called, “NEW
SHOES”. Allow the pathetic Babylonian King of New Shoes, to
now tell you some more of this horrific disaster ass nightmare, AKA
KING NEBNOOSHOO at C-SQ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was
remembering it wrong. SSJKK showed me a calendar and pointed with an
edict and a frightening expression on her lovely face, full of anger
and wrath; and she made me come to realize how I had angered her so
much, first at the Medport Diner in the spring time of 1986, by
telling David about her and some of the stuff about the 1969 wild
dream she had given me and the Book of the Beach, and all of it. Then
I went onto try killing her, with Magnesonic. This, she said is not
going to be forgiven until a lot of suffering is done on my part, and
I find a way to make things right. She asked me to remember a
particular sentence that was said to me just 12 days earlier in New
York City, when she came up to my car that night around half past
ten, and I had been relaxing in the passenger seat and David was
inside of the nightclub. Instantly I remembered and it made no sense
in 1986 and I dismissed it and never thought of it again, but she had
spoken a very wild thing that sort of made my blood rush to my face I
am sure, and being dark, I doubt she remembers seeing my face, but we
were talking about how you do not always get second chances in life,
and I had told her about a male nurse named John McDowell who lived
at 2041 Chestnut Street, in Philadelphia in Center City, back in
1963, and he had spoken this to me, and I mentioned that to her
during this somewhat fascinating conversation that lasted all of
about 3 minutes if I am recalling that part of things accurately. Now
do not confuse Bob McDowell, these two dudes were totally different
peeps from two totally different times in my life, the FCC Chairman
McDowell, I was about three and a half years older than he was, while
the male nurse John from Philly, was already a grown man, back when I
was around nine years old. His mom also nursed at the same hospital,
and was our neighbor, and he was visiting his mom, and my mom had
become quite friendly with her. Still, SSJKK said to me in her new
form in 1986, something to the extent of how right this guy was, and
how I would probably come to realize it more and more with passing
time. Why this made chills go up and down my freaking spine when I
sat next to my own daughter in the car that night and did not know
she was my kid, I do not know, but I do know, that this is an awesome
reconstructed memory. Now this is page eleven of eleven, so let me
please try and compensate with my lovely FIVES, good folks.
5555555555555555555 plus 55555555555 times 5555555 and divided by
55555555555555555, is equal to who cares? Just let me stare at these
fives, YO!
Folks,
is a freaking ***W---O---W***
appropriate here?
There
is a lot more to tell, and I will just tell a very tiny ass bit of
it, my wonderful viewers and believers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She had
taken me into the days where I work as Labber Zeejins in the late
twenty-two hundreds. This is where she showed me this with a very
strange pointer that was about 50 inches long or more. I never saw so
much anger on her face, it scared me to death, and I admit, I thought
my next stop was to the Huntington Bay Weeds, with boy-taker
Volleyball Player, nameless friend. I know what she can do, I HAVE
SEEN, and I'll say no more, for total fear of life and limb. Still,
great SARAH
KRASSLE, you know I AM THAT-BOY, and you know no matter
what, and how all of this might play out, IWALU, and yes, I need your
codes to show, and I told the Copyright Office this, and I know they
know all about us today, and I know you know it as well, oh
GREAT 1. Queen of Babylon OH GREAT ISIS, I AM so sorry for
all I have said and done, and will be a very very GOOD BOY, I promise
you, oh great TEEN QUEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I SURRENDER, I WILL OBEY, I
WILL NOT BE A SHELLFISH, Sharkey says, 'UNCLE' at a hundred thousand
bells of SPL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You have proven to me a
billion times over, great one, JUST WHO RULES THIS EMPIRE, please
accept my eternal apology, MC!
When
I was being shown these things by Almighty
ISIS, L-4; I was in the very same room that I was in when
Professor Gawky Gaukauk was conducting that class at the Teck Bay
Mystery School, only the room had been recreated. I was not on the
Astral-Plane. I was merely in a parallel reality, or what you would
call, in a very vivid dreaming experience. After I had been shown and
forced to recall these things, I walked out alone, and in the
hallway, was the laser retraced Donna Summer, not Jason Forrest of
WFMU RADIO, but the dynamite darling of disco herself. All my old
blogs talk about how I told the story, the true accurate story of
what had happened to me on Walker and Water Streets in southeast
Philly in 1988 while employed by Dorothea Dario, the pig who cheated
her employees out of their rightful hours and pay and was reopening
new companies as fast as the state of New Jersey was closing her
down, and who belongs in Federal freaking Prison. She beat me up when
I was fifteen, and through my bicycle into the dam river. She does
not think I remember her, but I do, on that early icy snowy January
1970 day at the Newton Creek near the recently built Burger King on
the White Horse Pike, in West Collingswood; just down the road from
where Michael Landon AKA Ugie Googie Horowitz, went to the high
school there on West Collings Avenue, before he played 'Little Joe'
on 'Bonanza', and went on from there, to star in many television
roles. Aniwho, we need not get off into a dozen stupid ass tangents
for now, believers. This is what got me onto SOCIAL
SECURITY DISABILITY the very first time that I applied,
when I told them the true story about World Labs up in the future,
and how I had retraced 600 people from this time period, up there.
This was in the days of my joining the Haddonwood Swimming Club, in
1994. I joined on June 27, and within a few months, I was on
disability. I still am. Folks say I am crazy, maybe I am. I know the
truth, some others know it too. Then you have the Bluebook Warren
Club of Disinformation, and the other MDE, with an EA in-between,
sort of a magic symbol if you ask me, as in Fort MEADE, you get
Mother-Daughter-Electron, and you also get Einstein Albert out of
these initials. Then there was 2008. Say
what?
Here
is the story of last week, done a little bit more the way that would
be pleasing to the great Almighty literary giant of Egg Harbor in New
Jersey, Terry; please don't kiss me. Thank you. It was six days ago
on Monday that I drove up to the Harvest. I wanted to tell the
Manager who once was and said I was his pal, only he changed big time
when becoming manager of the place, and this is why I detest power
and capitalism and all of this shit. It turns everybody totally ugly
and forgetful. The main thing that they tend to forget is that they
all will pass the very same people who they were mean to once they
became great hot shots, when it is their time and turn, to slide back
down the ladder rungs of success, back into the great cosmic
equalization. This does not mean I think powerful folks should be
fools and give one thin dime to those begging for money. The
wealthiest person on Earth would go broke in a year, just handing out
fifty measly dollars to every not real well off person; man, woman,
and child; just in the United States alone, and forget the world.
What I do say is there is a horrible change that takes place in
people, normally it is the smaller of the bigger people, such as
JASPER, up there at the shit hole I used to work at through a stipend
program, on E Street, in Washington, DC-13-600; that's actually
operated out of the Port Saint Lucie, Florida Office, on Route 1.
LSS, I went up there back on Monday to tell him how Mikey had, or I
thought at that time, had done me wrong by moving away and just
dropping me as a friend after we had become very good friends,
helping each other out in small ways when necessary, and enjoying
talks on a more intellectual and stimulating level, than either of us
can do by randomly conversing with just any helter skelter random
person we may meet at the dam grocery store. I was wrong, and have
since apologized for my inaccurate thinking, and accusations, and
admit, I was a real nasty ass prick, and have learned that I will
never ever engage in that type of petty conduct again. Hell if my own
dam daughter can throw me to the wolves; then I shouldn't let anyone
else bother me, even if that had indeed been the case, which it was
not. He merely had become very preoccupied with major personal life
problems for a month, after losing his job, and needing to move.
Still, he managed to do a lot better than when I have a major crises,
which happens very frequently throughout my miserable rotten life.
His brother merely moved Mikey over to the next beach-house that he
still owns, and he has another downstairs crib in there, merely
moving about 25 yards tops, out one door, and into another one. With
me, and not having anyone who cares a lick luck about me, Barbara
Linglong Fonda; Ida been in some real serious ass trouble under a
similar circumstance, bang on wood at '100' DB, not '199', those dam
'IO' keys '999' '000', they all are next to each other on the
keyboard, 'UI', etcetera. Lately and especially this current lovely
month of MAY, I definitely make the THIRTEENTH ANGRY MAN, right
there, Mizz Jane Dirtweeds Sleazedisease??????????? I also told
Jasper I would gladly pay him cash money, 100 dollars, to help me do
a YOUTUBE PAGE. He at most is making a dozen bucks an hour, 15 total
tops, and is not a rich man, with all his ego and demigod power up
there. That is not a bad deal, and I would have paid him more for a
really good one, along with also my own web page; such as the one
that Eddie designed and posted on the net for me, back in OHM-7
somewhere. But he took my number and trashed it, as he always used to
do when I worked there. But he did call Mikey and fink on me about
what I had been nice enough to tell him. This only proves one thing,
and that is that revenge or payback is never the correct action to
take, especially when you are down and out all the way, and with no
one anywhere in the mother fucking entire world who gives a shit if
you should fucking live or fucking die, and that is my current
situation, down in this so-called paradise hellhole misery, that lots
of northern peeps, refer to, and call,
F---L---O---R---I---D---A!!!!!!
Some demonic supernatural or extraterrestrial event just occurred
while I finished typing in the last sentence. I will not bother
telling about it, as most if none would even believe it, but it
happened on the dot of 5:05 PM, coming out of nowhere, totally
invisible, and was along the lines of what David Roth and myself
witnessed so often in the years between 1986 and 1999 for the most
part, and especially after we made contact directly with both SSJKK,
and then a few years after that, in a frenzy of fear to save our
lives from some invisible assaulting power all around us that just
popped up; the Camden County Prosecutor's Office, in Camden City, New
Jersey, USA-ES-MWG, on 12/05/1989. Hello to you too, School Play
Participation Insistence, (SPPI) almost SIPRI, speaking of 'OHM'-7 a
while back, and 1969 a bit further back, right Mister Ciprionni? If a
'WOW' was ever needed within a grouping
of text words, this would be the quintessential time, laugh if you
wish now, Mike McNulty! It is time, BC, to move this along now, and
go about ten minutes after the moment that I walked out of the
Harvest place doors, and headed to the local area grocery store, the
Publix; at the large mini-mall, at Virginia Avenue, and Route number
1. This is where some WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE
power and technology, for reasons beyond my most stretched
imagination; had me suddenly see, no, not a Walmart, that is a few
miles to the west down Virginia which forks as it goes and becomes
OKAY-2-CHOKE-ME Boulevard, becoming one
of the on and off ramps, for the great interstate we all know and
love, Drug Runners Alley and AKA 'I-95'. Walmart is a half mile
before the highway, and is to the east of it. This is however the
mini-mall parking area where I was convinced I had seen Mikey, only
it was a major doppelganger, totally him, only with his hair
different and bright yellow, and dressed like a wealthy man, or as my
great LI Sound Yachtsman late cousin, might put it, “VERY
COMFORTABLE”. LSS folks, it was not him, but right at that very
time that 'some force or power' put this entity right in my direct
path; Mikey was calling me, and leaving me a message on my voicemail
system. He never came out and said it, but I know that Jasper called
him, and told him that I said something not that pleasant to him,
about Mikey; and I did. I had told how he used to accuse Jasper of a
$10,000 theft that took place some time back. But I have come to
learn that this is why I need to always
remain totally fucking out of things, as the only person
that EVER MOTHER FUCKING GETS INTO TROUBLE, as this must be
programmed into the LAWN MOWER MAN MATRIX OF THIS WILD GAME AND
SYSTEM; is the dude I see, when I am shaving in the dam ass morning;
and ONLY THAT POOR FUCKED UP DUDE, no one else. Everyone else is
PROGRAMMED TO DO EVIL AND SKATE ON IT, while I take the force fed
shit, down the throat, EVERY MOTHER FUCKING ROTTEN ASS TIME, YO YO YO
YO YO!!!!! But folks, there are a billion-trillion other subtle
things, that are all WHY
this stuff is happening exactly as it is, to me, and
around me; and remains a total never ending constant for me and
against me; not for a year, not for 5 years, not 10, not 20; but
since the fucking cunt lapping day my mom dropped me on my rotten
worthless head, while we lived at her mom's home, in West Philly,
when I was one or two, and she was carrying me across 50th
Street, to a doctor appointment, from the house at 440 South 50th
Street; and no sooner were out the dam door, when she tripped on
something, and fell on the street; and I fell down hard, and remember
it horrifically to this very mother fucking second. Real funny, MC,
real funny! Speaking of lovely persons, Happy BD, Sharon, and I doubt
you are related to my kid's friend, although, they all got away with
my situation because no one would ever suspect, huh Paul Pedersen,
old buddy? I'll bet I am the whitest looking nigger you ever saw in
your life, huh dog? Well, even I am not aloud to ride up into the
hood and sing along to many of BOO and his pal's lyrics, if I wish to
remain healthy up there late at night. Still, why did he not call my
daughter when he was up at County Jail in early autumn in twenty-ten?
Why call me? Jimmy, I still have the same question for you in late
May of 2013 that I had back in late 1984, bub, YYYYYYYYY, why Jimmy
Y, Y did you tell me these things; and also, JUST HOW DID YOU
POSSIBLY FUCKING KNOW THAT THIS WAS ALL ABOUT MY FAMILY, WAY BACK IN
1974; and did you work on Project
Jeanie-Dreams with my dad, at Majestic TS Level, in Fort
Meade, or Fort MDE,
'mother-daughter-electron', and yes, then there is the H-2 stuff I
learned the other night, about the cult that started in when else,
but you all got it right 1984?
This
has to have a freaking W-O-W!
Well
people, this will be a WHOPPER TODAY,
and you may quote any of three people here, Professor Pepperwinkle on
the original high phone bill Superman show, President Obama, and then
finally, little old nobody me, Mountainpen.
I
am not going to entertain you all with huge fonts, super wild stupid
swearing, or anything else like a blog over filled with brah's and
bro's and bree's and yo's. You will do yourself an extreme disfavor
if you skip it however, and you just go ahead and do this at your
free will and choice, both WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE and tiny group mingled
in, known as my Morians (BELIEVERS
in my truths, for the most part or perhaps entirely). I am holding at
a MPB-40% as of yesterday's horrendous emmereffing day that will
close out when I finish this blog, post it up, and go to 'sleep', as
mortal world residents would call the experience. But this blog will
contain quite a bit of tattle tailing and powerful stuff, ignore it
at your own potential funeral somewhere down the dimly lit road, good
kind folks, whoever you are, as frankly, Mister Rett Butler, I do not
care about those details, or for that matter, Congressman Andrews,
whether the city or the river, ran away with my mind, or whether or
not I have been lost in time, all these dam years, sir. I will open
by telling you that I knew I would get clobbered on my dam
systems-roulette tonight, and was not disappointed a small fraction,
losing 26 and a half emmereffing units. You can expect the DOW JONES
INDUSTRIALS to rise on tomorrow's markets, somewhere between 250 and
600 points, and you can bank on it folks, I PROMISE YOU, LOVELY MO!
Yes, I played five games, and got clocked, mostly on the final game,
as before that, I was only down three units, and was stupid, and
could not see the freaking writing on the wall as clear as Johnny
Clariton 1-2-3 ripoffs Lovernash, and merely quit at this small loss
for the day, knowing fully well, it could only do a Howard
Solomon Busted Eardrum, or an anti-dice,
or whatever, but real followers need not force me to spell out the
appropriate five letter word that starts with a 'W', and ends with an
'E', no rabbits, no Mike McNulty's, sorry, no time tonight. There's
too much to rock chucking say and I do not wish to type all
throughout the night. You will get your mind blown, unless you do not
want to, and have joined the two great world renown clubs, the
Missourians Club and the GWPOS CLUB, either or, or both; makes little
difference. The days of my doing security detail out in my car, at
the Cifaloglio place, comes to mind. The greatest system in the
universe could be used, but if I was being dive bombed by WOMO ENEMY
AIR STRIKES, and the skies were filled to the brim with nasty ass
chemtrails, making me ill and causing me to crap myself many times;
there is no way I could ever win. The weak link in the system I am
currently using is an over abundance of house vig numbers as well as
the evil-side-doubleton pattern, as one pattern wins, and the other
one destroys the system, and when it comes in, it comes in with a
vengeance, and you can play the dam wheel forever, and it will only
change if you do the unthinkable and try betting against the system,
as that inside the quantum foam of real true reality, makes the
system then start to work, and the bad patterns go away. BUT, you
still lose, either way you play the game, literally, and
figuratively. I got both hits tonight, clocked by runt slapping green
numbers or the house vig, as well as that one pattern that kills and
seems to remain endlessly unless you quit that wheel, and this is the
evil-side-doubleton pattern. This has a twin side that makes a
killing, as do strings and alternates, but this one pattern type,
will wipe out this particular gaming betting system, I promise. So
why does the one pattern come out so vigorously, tenaciously,
obstinately, and regularly, and by that I mean you can set your watch
to it if you are me, as all super attacks will eventually bring the
one pattern that just will not quit, and really wipes me out, and I
can count the truck on it, folks. This was a serious botbar day, and
I am five for seven now, in other words only 2-non-botbar days were
in the last seven days total, and for the month, I am now 12 botbar
days for the 20 days of May so friggin' far, good people. I did speak
to Debbie Marotto, but it is merely a futile expenditure of energy.
No on else complains, and the architecture of the system is why.
Don't ask me the details, it is too lengthy. Being across from these
bastard scum bags, only I get the full brunt of their evil
wickedness, and unless others complain, no one will ever help me. You
see, this is proof that I do not count in this world one tiny bit. No
one gives a blasted dam if I live or die, not one soul, and so, I do
not care one bit about this world, and it can go blow up right now,
and that is just fine with me. Do you want honesty or deception, from
this blogger. You're the one reading my words, do you want them to
just be a bunch of pretty sounding lies? Now let me begin to break
down this horrible botbar day for you, my believers. It started with
hearing a loud aerial vessel outside, I am sure of it. Now the rest
of the entire day was air free for me, nothing out of the ordinary,
once I went out to do an errand or two, and boy will we explore what
happened to me, good folks, and really, if you are not sitting down,
I strongly urge you to do so before reading further along. If you do
not and you hit your head when you fall down; please don't blame me,
as I TOLD YOU!
After
the air sound, while I was reading some of my stuff on the computer,
and after being up and awake a short time, arising around quarter
past eleven or so yesterday morning; the evil mother fucking
neighbors across from me, began their 'BING
BANG BONG BOOMING' of
doors; over, and over, and over again; FORT PIERCE POLICE
DEPARTMENT, AND NARCOTICS DIVISION! I was going to go out later on in
the afternoon, but it was as though the forces of Misses 1969 Marola,
and her 'MUST
HAVE ME DO THE SCHOOL PLAY' ON MEMORIAL DAY, stuff all
over again; that put me on some perfect cosmic schedule, just as it
did back then, to be on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, at a
perfectly timed minute and second, so as to witness and experience
something; and this time, it was again, all done for me to be
someplace, and witness another awesome something; and so let me now
get to all of that. First I spoke to my Resident Manager, after
returning from my errands, and not initially. All I did was take out
my trash and throw it down the chute on my floor near the elevators,
even my mail was not checked and received by me, until I returned
back to the building. I wanted to get up to the HARVEST, and see my
old pal, JASPER. I was not going to rest, until I told him a very
horrible thing that Mikey had accused him of, with no evidence or
real good reason whatsoever, and we will not get into it all,
although, the local television reporters may know just exactly what
is being talked about here right now on this blog. I never agreed
with him about this, and did not like it when he did all that trash
talking, but only after he totally screwed me over and vanished, was
I boiling mad, and decided a few days ago that indeed, I would
retaliate and tell Jasper how he has been trash talking his
reputation all over town, and he has, and then Jasper told me, he is
aware that someone in fact was spreading that around, and he was
quite appreciative to learn that it was Mikey. I only rat out rats
that deserve it. Only if you hurt me will I rat you out on something,
really hurt me, and for no good dam ass reason. If I see something
that is none of my business, I walk on, and that is that. I have seen
and witnessed enough things in my life to write a billion essays on
it, but again, I stress that I am not a rat. A rat does this. I do
not really tattle-tail. I just feel that when someone does me real
friggin' wrong, then they deserve a little payback, and if most
people are honest with themselves, they will tell me they agree with
me. Now I mean this people, be sitting down for what I'll tell you
next, L-4.
I
did not purchase one single item at the Harvest Store back yesterday,
Monday, and I may have indeed needed a few snacks, some cookies and
crackers and stuff that normally would cost 30 bucks, that you can
get for about 5 bucks there, just because the stuff may be a month
past expiration dates. 4:5, the stuff is fresh and good, so risking 5
dollars and usually coming up a winner, does not bother me at all. I
mean they sell limeade and lemonade for 5-9 bucks for 6 gallons or 12
half-gallon cartons. It is not always in the cooler, many times just
apple juice or orange juice is there, and I am only a grape juice and
lime and lemon drinker. Still, I only had telling Jasper what I told
him, on my mind, and I did; and things seemed to be getting better on
the day until I got down the mother freaking road about 2 blocks.
There would never be a real need for a dam cop or a dam law, if
everyone had my conscience, and upbringing; and try as I might not
to brag; I am a gentleman when I
am outside my door. I don't curse or rarely, and never around women
and children; and I watch my manners, and act refined. I don't put on
airs or the dog, or any of that. I don't go 'dahhling', and use nine
syllable words or try showing off or bragging about my Huntington
family. Nobody knows me, and I try to keep it all that way, other
than for screaming out online about my life and the injustices
involved, and the people involved as well, that I feel totally, are
causing it all, and are totally responsible for it all. I am not all
that shy on my blogs, nor am I sorry. But outside my door in the real
world, I behave my freaking self. I never ever look at girls, I never
ever do anything wrong or illegal. Women always bothered me all my
life, not the other way around. Now that I am old and ugly, most of
the time, this has lessened, praise the gods!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, I got
down the road a few blocks, and my conscience started bothering me
real ass fucking bad, good people. I know I shouldn't have ratted the
bastard out. He really hurt me, the mother fucker. Still, is that any
reason or excuse for me to be no better than him, by my behavior
being rotten and shitty? The answer of course is an unequivocal NO. I
still feel way more terrible and guilty than I feel compensated or
relieved or avenged. I was brought up by a very good mother, praise
the gods, and all though I did not believe all her religious horse
shit 100%, I have come to know that there is something out there
beyond any and all human reasoning, as I have experienced a lifetime
of shit that proves and verifies this totally, and I could witness in
any and every church on this planet!!!!!!! But it gets way way way
freaking better than this, so hold onto your big ugly hat, Mister
McGraw, you bumpkin! Wow what an ego bruise for him, Microsoft. Let
me move on now.
Feeling about three feet tall, 25 inches less than I really am, there I was in my car, now heading away from the Harvest Store, and towards the PUBLIX GROCERY STORE in town, on Route-1 or the (Federal Highway), same thing. Mikey goes to this store and this mini-mall a lot, and banks at the bank there as well; and I know all that from back when I was helping him to do his errands, after he had just left the Lawnwood Hospital here in town; and after he was recuperating from his surgical procedure, for his hernia problems. I spotted him walking towards one of the stores that was perhaps half a dozen stores to the north of the Publix, in this very large mini-mall area. He has a walk that no one else in this world has, and is very slender and I know him from the front as well as the back like I know the back of my hands. I slowly crept up on him, as you need to drive slowly in a mini-mall anyway, and I managed to get ahead of him and look both ways before making a right turn to head closer to a parking area for the Publix Customers, but I looked back with my eyes in the rear view mirror, and get ready folks, and this is gospel truth so help me, I swear this under penalty of libel, perjury, slander, and any criminal maliciousness whatsoever, as well as on the Almighty Goddess Herself, SSJKK, (Sarah-Stacey Krassle), Queen of the Astral Plane. Not only was it Mikey, but he colored his hair, and changed the style of it. It is totally yellow blond, and he has totally different eyeglasses as well. I have known this mid sixtyish man for the entire time I have lived down here in Florida, as he always was working the front desk of the HARVEST, and I went there for help when I first got into town, on advice from the landlady of the RV-PARK, the Manatee RV Park, also on Route-1, in the White City section of town, at the opposite corner from where the Harvest place is, as they are up in the north-west, and White City is down in the south-east corner of this large 7 mile square town area of nearly 50 square miles. This man would never under any ordinary circumstances, ever do anything one tenth as absurd as dying his hair bright yellow, altering his appearance entirely, and yes, even his style of dress was day and night difference, from what I knew all that time that I knew this man. Dick Wolf and Donald Trump, and all their pals could not say it better, and they did say it over and over, right there on the television broadcast, during many airings of the greatest law show ever, surpassing even the once all time great PERRY MASON, and I quote them, with their permission hopefully; “YOU JUST CAN'T MAKE THIS KIND OF STUFF UP”. Then again, you cannot make up 1969, 1974, 1980, and shall I really bother to go on, ladies and gentlemen? Anyone able to make up something even close to MORIANITY, well, I would bow down to them as I would the freaking Almighty. So boweth not down to me folks, as I am not worthy. I did not make any of this up, nor would I have one thousandth of the sufficient amount of talent to indeed do so, and when I'm accused of this; it is quite a boost to my little tiny nobody worthless ego!
MORIANITY
PART V,
CHAPTER
XCIV, goes on!
HOLY
TOLEDO, DADDY SECRETS, Where is Aunt Jeanie, and does she want to jam
along with me and my great kid? This
is so cool;
you'll be crossing over, dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee, oh no; I'll be
crossing
over Academy
Road
after I get off of 95, and then I need to get over to Grant,
G-R-A-N-T, or need I sing this another time; or just freaking
DEAL WITH THIS ANOTHER TIME, LIKE SUPER FREAKING
W—O—W??????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
PLEASE
CONTINUE TO READ:
MORIANITY
PART FIVE, CHAPTER 00094. WEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
“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.
Here
is the story of last week, done a little bit more the way that would
be pleasing to the great Almighty literary giant of Egg Harbor in New
Jersey, Terry; please don't kiss me. Thank you. It was six days ago
on Monday that I drove up to the Harvest. I wanted to tell the
Manager who once was and said I was his pal, only he changed big time
when becoming manager of the place, and this is why I detest power
and capitalism and all of this shit. It turns everybody totally ugly
and forgetful. The main thing that they tend to forget is that they
all will pass the very same people who they were mean to once they
became great hot shots, when it is their time and turn, to slide back
down the ladder rungs of success, back into the great cosmic
equalization. This does not mean I think powerful folks should be
fools and give one thin dime to those begging for money. The
wealthiest person on Earth would go broke in a year, just handing out
fifty measly dollars to every not real well off person; man, woman,
and child; just in the United States alone, and forget the world.
What I do say is there is a horrible change that takes place in
people, normally it is the smaller of the bigger people, such as
JASPER, up there at the shit hole I used to work at through a stipend
program, on E Street, in Washington, DC-13-600; that's actuality
operated out of the Port Saint Lucie, Florida Office, on Route 1.
LSS, I went up there back on Monday to tell him how Mikey had, or I
thought at that time, had done me wrong by moving away and just
dropping me as a friend after we had become very good friends,
helping each other out in small ways when necessary, and enjoying
talks on a more intellectual and stimulating level, than either of us
can do by randomly conversing with just any helter skelter random
person we may meet at the dam grocery store. I was wrong, and have
since apologized for my inaccurate thinking, and accusations, and
admit, I was a real nasty ass prick, and have learned that I will
never ever engage in that type of petty conduct again. Hell if my own
dam daughter can throw me to the wolves; then I shouldn't let anyone
else bother me, even if that had indeed been the case, which it was
not. He merely had become very preoccupied with major personal life
problems for a month, after losing his job, and needing to move.
Still, he managed to do a lot better than when I have a major crises,
which happens very frequently throughout my miserable rotten life.
His brother merely moved Mikey over to the next beach-house that he
still owns, and he has another downstairs crib in there, merely
moving about 25 yards tops, out one door, and into another one. With
me, and not having anyone who cares a lick luck about me, Barbara
Linglong Fonda; Ida been in some real serious ass trouble under a
similar circumstance, bang on wood at '100' DB, not '199', those dam
'IO' keys '999' '000', they all are next to each other on the
keyboard, 'UI', etcetera. Lately and especially this current lovely
month of MAY, I definitely make the THIRTEENTH ANGRY MAN, right
there, Mizz Jane Dirtweeds Sleazedisease??????????? I also told
Jasper I would gladly pay him cash money, 100 dollars, to help me do
a YOUTUBE PAGE. He at most is making a dozen bucks an hour, 15 total
tops, and is not a rich man, with all his ego and demigod power up
there. That is not a bad deal, and I would have paid him more for a
really good one, along with also my own web page; such as the one
that Eddie designed and posted on the net for me, back in OHM-7
somewhere. But he took my number and trashed it, as he always used to
do when I worked there. But he did call Mikey and fink on me about
what I had been nice enough to tell him. This only proves one thing,
and that is that revenge or payback is never the correct action to
take, especially when you are down and out all the way, and with no
one anywhere in the mother fucking entire world who gives a shit if
you should fucking live or fucking die, and that is my current
situation, down in this so-called paradise hellhole misery, that lots
of northern peeps, refer to, and call,
F---L---O---R---I---D---A!!!!!!
Some demonic supernatural or extraterrestrial event just occurred
while I finished typing in the last sentence. I will not bother
telling about it, as most if none would even believe it, but it
happened on the dot of 5:05 PM, coming out of nowhere, totally
invisible, and was along the lines of what David Roth and myself
witnessed so often in the years between 1986 and 1999 for the most
part, and especially after we made contact directly with both SSJKK,
and then a few years after that, in a frenzy of fear to save our
lives from some invisible assaulting power all around us that just
popped up; the Camden County Prosecutor's Office, in Camden City, New
Jersey, USA-ES-MWG, on 12/05/1989. Hello to you too, School Play
Participation Insistence, (SPPI) almost SIPRI, speaking of 'OHM'-7 a
while back, and 1969 a bit further back, right Mister Ciprionni? If a
'WOW' was ever needed within a grouping
of text words, this would be the quintessential time, laugh if you
wish now, Mike McNulty! It is time, BC, to move this along now, and
go about ten minutes after the moment that I walked out the Harvest
place doors, and headed to the local area grocery store, the Publix;
at the large mini-mall, at Virginia Avenue, and Route number 1. This
is where some WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE
power and technology, for reasons beyond my most stretched
imagination; had me suddenly see, no, not a Walmart, that is a few
miles to the west down Virginia which forks as it goes and becomes
OKAY-2-CHOKE-ME Boulevard, becoming one
of the on and off ramps, for the great interstate we all know and
love, Drug Runners Alley and AKA 'I-95'. Walmart is a half mile
before the highway, and is to the east of it. This is however the
mini-mall parking area where I was convinced I had seen Mikey, only
it was a major doppelganger, totally him, only with his hair
different and bright yellow, and dressed like a wealthy man, or as my
great LI Sound Yachtsman late cousin, might put it, “VERY
COMFORTABLE”. LSS folks, it was not him, but right at that very
time that 'some force or power' put this entity right in my direct
path; Mikey was calling me, and leaving me a message on my voicemail
system. He never came out and said it, but I know that Jasper called
him, and told him that I said something not that pleasant to him,
about Mikey; and I did. I had told how he used to accuse Jasper of a
$10,000 theft that took place some time back. But I have come to
learn that this is why I need to always
remain totally fucking out of things, as the only person
that EVER MOTHER FUCKING GETS INTO TROUBLE, as this must be
programmed into the LAWN MOWER MAN MATRIX OF THIS WILD GAME AND
SYSTEM; is the dude I see, when I am shaving in the dam ass morning;
and ONLY THAT POOR FUCKED UP DUDE, no one else. Everyone else is
PROGRAMMED TO DO EVIL AND SKATE ON IT, while I take the force fed
shit, down the throat, EVERY MOTHER FUCKING ROTTEN ASS TIME, YO YO YO
YO YO!!!!! But folks, there are a billion-trillion other subtle
things, that are all WHY
this stuff is happening exactly as it is, to me, and
around me; and remains a total never ending constant for me and
against me; not for a year, not for 5 years, not 10, not 20; but
since the fucking cunt lapping day my mom dropped me on my rotten
worthless head, while we lived at her mom's home, in West Philly,
when I was one or two, and she was carrying me across 50th
Street, to a doctor appointment, from the house at 440 South 50th
Street; and no sooner were out the dam door, when she tripped on
something, and fell on the street; and I fell down hard, and remember
it horrifically to this very mother fucking second. Real funny, MC,
real funny! Speaking of lovely persons, Happy BD, Sharon, and I doubt
you are related to my kid's friend, although, they all got away with
my situation because no one would ever suspect, huh Paul Pedersen,
old buddy? I'll bet I am the whitest looking nigger you ever saw in
your life, huh dog? Well, even I am not aloud to ride up into the
hood and sing along to many of BOO and his pal's lyrics, if I wish to
remain healthy up there late at night. Still, why did he not call my
daughter when he was up at County Jail in early autumn in twenty-ten?
Why call me? Jimmy, I still have the same question for you in late
May of 2013 that I had back in late 1984, bub, YYYYYYYYY, why Jimmy
Y, Y did you tell me these things; and also, JUST HOW DID YOU
POSSIBLY FUCKING KNOW THAT THIS WAS ALL ABOUT MY FAMILY, WAY BACK IN
1974; and did you work on Project
Jeanie-Dreams with my dad, at Majestic TS Level, in Fort
Meade, or Fort MDE,
'mother-daughter-electron', and yes, then there is the H-2 stuff I
learned the other night, about the cult that started in when else,
but you all got it right 1984?
This
has to have a freaking W-O-W!
Now,
I am not going to touch a million potential subjects on this blog,
and basically, the second one hundred chapters, have all been
reserved in a sort of semi-ordered structure by me, for really
getting way more specific, about what the first 100 chapters in this
M-5, just starts to get into; so be prepared to move forward with me,
or else, hit that NEXT-BLOG
BUTTON very soon, as unless you want to get real down
and dirty filthy, into the trenches of warfare, and true horror; that
poor old Walter could not handle, and so he booked out and off of the
battlefield, and later made it up to the world, by becoming the
greatest pleasure provider, to kids and all kids at heart of any age;
but let me just say, that when this mud is all completely and totally
explored; we will all get dirtied up, and I may be sued or killed,
but hey; I can take the fucking heat, L-4 and BELIEVERS; can U?
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 135
SUPPLEMENTAL:
START
OF TRANSMISSION, YO:
This
was a super BOTBAR fucking day for me, at the hands of the fucking
unrelenting WOMO ENEMIES of mine, AKA the MILITUFORCE OTAMMITES.
It
started when I left the house for fucking work and saw the many evil
fucking chemtrails in the fucking ass sky. One hour later, they
totally destroyed my watch. This is the 3rd fucking watch
from the K-Mart store on Route One in Fort Pierce, Florida at the
Virginia Avenue intersuction/sicktion/section. It was around a
quarter before fucking eleven when I knew I had been there on the job
close to two hours, yet the watch said only ten fucking AM. This is
when it was hit and fucking broken by this diseased fucking
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL WOMO filth. Last night, somebody around the final
hours and time of the day, wiped out my television fucking remote
control unit. IT IS OBVIOUS TO A FUCKING DISEASED ASS RETARD, THAT
THE PHILADELPHIA FLYERS HICKEY GARBAGE TEAM, IS PLAYING TONIGHT, AND
THEY WILL FUCKING CREAM THEIR OPPONENTS, AND THIS TIME PEEPS I
TOTALLY FUCKING PROMISE ALL OF YOU THAT THEY WILL MOVE ONTO
EVENTUALLY WIN THE 2011 SEASON STANLEY CUP CHAMPIONSHIP. WHY DO I
CARE SO MUCH ABOUT THIS, SOME SAY, AND SOME ALL READY KNOW? WELL, LET
US DISCUSS THIS SICK FUCKING SHIT FOLKS, OK? Let's really mother
fucking get into the entire messy fucking shit that has been plaguing
and dogging fucking me now for a fucking solid ass cock sucking
twenty-five years now, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you notice I am very
angry and quite upset and cursing like an insane fucking madman, you
are not imagining one mother fucking thing, YO. If any one of you out
here in internet-land was going through my fucking twisted
Route-9-nightmare for a solid quarter century of time, you would have
murdered by now, or be locked up in jail or a nut house, or tucked
away in a cemetery, or have your fucking ashes in an urn. I am doing
better than any one of you, so salute me and quit judging me, as I
should by all fucking rights, have perished and vanished a very long
ass ling ass time ago. The book of Biblical Job, and my book from
1994 called TPB; sure comes into my mind right about now, OYR. “Do
this, and do that, and blah and bleee and blum, but always, “spare
his life”. Keep my doggie alive, YO. Sarah-Stacey, you have an
incredible sense of humor, and one hell of a love for games. But then
I know a lot more about this ALL MIGHTY GODDESS than any of you
humans out here do. I had more than one run in with this powerful
beautiful goddess, right here in my MOUNTAINPEN-LIFETIME or sequence
of dreams IN THE 5TH DIMENSIONAL HYPERSPACE. “Hang in there” A&R
Callio, and WAYV-FM, and Hammonton, and HSM, and on and on, but do it
in Braintree fucking Massachusetts, and allow if you will, my cousin
Arthur Huntington to use his own personal rope and basement, that I'm
quite sure that he'd be willing and perhaps even so anxious to
provide, YO!
Sarah
Jacobson, Steve the school jock who was very muscular and tall and
athletic, Jerry Heitzmann, Misses Estelle Andersen Bassler, Miss
Nurockey, Herby Hunts' great grand pop's 3rd uncle, Sam
Huntington, his best pal, Bennie Franklin, and on and on, this story
has no starting point, Alice Gallagher, Haddon Township High School,
World Labs, my Social Security Disability, my many time road trips
with the great Ninny McKannon who is so famous for his rap music and
culture some decades ago and still to this freaking day, and
literally a thousand fucking wild shit eating things all come
together, and fit like a totally smooth ass tight but comfy glove,
and when I tell the entire thing, this planet will go off of its
fucking nut forever. But no matter how much of my fucking personal
property and other shit that they break, Bob McDowell of the Federal
Communications Millionth-Council Commission, known more secretly to a
discreet few as the FCMCC, THEY WILL NOT GET ME TO TELL ABOUT THE
FIRST HALF OF THE SEVENTIES, ONLY THAT THE FLYERS are totally
connected with things, as is the entire Hans Worshing Club of
Holland, and nobody is gonna get more out of me, as I love my SCYLLA,
and fuck all of you. I will willingly die by slow torture before I
will ever betray some of HER greatest secrets. What any of you think
you may know about her, her own family, the Pope, you don't freaking
know JACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
will tell this one thing. My blogs tell about how the famous
Watergate Day connects with me and my high school and Mister
Jockamini the Guidance Counselor, and then later on at the
Haddonfield special-ass-ed-school. Do any of you think that a ten
year old boy who wrote a story in a school class room back in 1965,
should have been locked away and nearly killed in a state mental
institution? If this is not an unfair punishment, then there never
was one, and I know exactly why it was imposed on me, and a million
other things also, but this all stays my secret; tape recorders, near
drownings, and disappearing beaten to death schoolmates as well. I
have seen, I know, and nothing is gonna make me tell the entire story
or the entire secret, NOT ONE BLOODY SHOE THING, MISS KATE SONGTHIEF
WILLIS!!!!!!! YOU CAN ALL FUCKING KISS MY GODSDAMN ASS, HOW'S THAT
FOR PURE REALISM AND TOTAL ASS HONESTY, BRAHHHH!!!!!!! Take that one
straight to the Mullica time trip Commerce Bank Florida Snow Auto
Loan Takeovers Club of the 'Camping-End-of-the-World' year,
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is also known as the
'oh-Marola-eleven' or the 'PITSY-4-year' peeps, BYE-BYE!!!
END
TRANSMISSION:
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 136
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH COUNCIL AND ME
BLOG
SUBTITLE THREE: “ATTACKED BY A MAD-MAN”
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2298,
SEND-BACK-TEXT
DATFILE: CH-136-042711.690
COPYRIGHT
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011,
MARK
WAYNE MOHR/MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
I
ran into '10 grand Joe Supersecrets' today, with the special bicycle
battery of the Melanie and many other high-notes clubs of Planet
Earth. He was in school with me, and we were studying Advanced
Robotics. Naturally, this was in hyperspace, or you mortal worlders
would say it more like, “Mark, you ass hole, you mean you had this
powerful dream last night”, OYR, whateverrrr. I am going to make
hyperspace, and parallel universe reality believers, out of some of
you if it takes me five hundred thousand Lieutenant Ouhora-Trek
years. Well, I was in a computer class today at the Fort Pierce,
Florida, Harvest, whose website internet address can be accessed as
follows: www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/
, when suddenly this evil horrid man, assaulted me out of the blue.
Now people are beginning to know, and believe. Still, you are all
clueless to many things, such as why I am getting totally mother
fucking hammered and pummeled this entire mother fucking week peeps,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!! The attack was totally unprovoked. I was only sitting
in a chair, and quietly talking to my friend who we will just call,
Delilah for sake of secrecy, and safety, and closets in general. I'll
fucking give Dawn-Marie King big-time unlimited credit for one thing,
and that is that she did not think that her sexual molestation by her
no good rotten fucking father back in 1972, was one bit funny.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM, are powerful ass fucking nerves being funny boned
here, YO??????? Let me discuss this powerful nightmare last night
that woke me with a super ass bang, thanks to my beautiful and
wonderful mother fucking alarm clock at precisely half past eight,
giving me the needed time to shower, dress, and drive four blocks to
my job; taking only one or two minutes time, where I work the 9-3
shift on Mondays, Tuesdays, and fucking ass Wednesdays.
Chemtrail
and plane aerial assault, has been TOTAL fucking murder all week
fucking long, with this fucking hockey hickey
(LING-LONG-FONDA-MONSTER-SLAPPER) playoff shit, that I have had to
deal with ever since the 15th day of cunt eating August,
in the demonic and Satanic year of 1986; and has been told and
blogged out to the public world now, for about six straight fucking
consecutive ass years, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This will freaking be
undoubtedly told again and again and again; and a lot more than
seventeen ripped off times, BRAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So are
we going out tonight, Shaniah, you miserable whore?
All
week ling, Henry Barbara Thirteen Angry-Men, I've been destroyed, and
it is only a mother fucking matter of time before M---AGNESONI---C
scans, and avenges my hellish miseries being perpetrated upon me by
quintessential scoundrels, and total ass scum, YO!!!!!!! Don't
fucking believe me, but when Planet Earth gets wiped, don't say I
didn't fucking warn everybody, Agent Caruso. I have tried to get this
shit against me stopped for decades now FBI, and you did nothing but
'BACK-BURNER' me to death, YO,
TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
knew that things were destined to be off the scale putrid, and
monstrously horrific for me, after my coming out of that wild
interaction at half past eight this moUUUUUUUUUUUUrning. I am not as
stupid as peeps would hope I am, or believe, in their rash fallible
total ignorance, peeps. LSS, I was in this robotics class, and Nick
Cannon walked in with a group of women, all dressed very strangely.
They wanted to know all of the details about something that Joe and I
had just finished making in this classroom-lab of a sort. I began
telling them what they wanted to know, and Joe suddenly stood up and
yelled at me at the top of his lings, which I never ever saw him do
in 'waking-life' at the Harvest before he was canned, or 'plipped' as
they say 100 years from now, “pink-slipped”, without cause; some
time back, and it is all on my blogs from last summer time, BRRRR!
Just what significance these strangely dressed ladies had, I do not
yet know, but they, along with 'Road Time Trip Man' all sort of ended
up in the background more and more, as this interaction progressed.
Mariah Carey was singing a beautiful song, that I have never heard
before throughout all of infinity, and it was so beautiful, and like
she was so famous for in the nineties for doing, it has many octaves,
and her heavenly voice was beyond outstanding and divine. When she
finished the song, she walked over to my seat in this school-lab, and
grabbed the thing that Joe hollered at me not to let anyone look at
or touch. Naturally, we all were so totally ass spellbound by her
music, and her song, and her ultra fantastic voice; that nobody could
even move. She smiled down at me in my seat, while holding this wild
looking small, but seemingly heavy gadget. As she kept holding onto
it, it began to pulsate, and make bright strobing colors. Then she
sat it down on my desk, that was twice the size of a normal desk one
might expect to see in a classroom at a college or a high school, and
Joe jumped away faster than Britney's grandfather warped out of my
home in Gibbsboro, New Jersey, USAESMWG, that day in the early
nineteen-nineties. Then Mariah re-sang her super lovely song to me,
and it made me cry like a little baby, because she sounded so totally
fantastic, and the song was so totally ass wonderful; and with such a
surreal and unfathomable ten octave vocal range with her full voice,
which should be a physical world impossibility. Then everyone was
suddenly just gone, while I sat there dumbfounded. The strange gadget
was gone as well, and I thought that maybe, just as with the cassette
tape back in 1986 in this part of the hyperspace, in Manhattan; that
she had taken it, and who knows if indeed she did or not. I know that
she lifted the cassette tape, after singing a song on it, along with
the song that was playing on my car stereo.
Then
came the alarm clock, the sky attack, and also the physical health
attack, which resulted from so many poisonous chemtrailing vapors.
Just GOOGLE UP the great 'SKYWITNESS' on the freaking great U-TUBE,
and so many other chemtrial reports on this fantastic site. Don't
listen to me. It all is right up there, and has all been fully
exposed; and still we all go right on dying from these toxic poisons,
and no one appears to have the fucking balls to do anything to stop
them, “legally of course”, AS THESE BLOGS DO NOT EVER ACT TO
PROMOTE ANY SORT OF VIOLENCE, OR ILLEGAL ACTIVITY, YO!!!!
The
man who attacked me in class today, and what happened just a few
hours earlier in a parallel universe, is all connected up. Only the
great fucking PAULA KING knows exactly how. I will be leaving this
hot hell called Florida very soon, and returning home. Dawn is no
longer able to get at me in the physical world up there. I have made
peace with the rest of the family, well, many of them. Many of them
are and will be hopeless, that is quite obvious. I knew that deep
inside my soul on that day at the beach, when Levy brought 100 of his
cousins there, and scared away the normal crowd. I was not
intimidated. I let one of the dudes help me feed the seagulls, and
had a nice friendly talk. Still, the girl that ended my beach going
days for a few years, caused quite a temporary bear in the New York
financial systems in the not too distant future. Still, as long and
ling as they have me to fucking mess with and hurt, they never ever
will lose. They will just go on endlessly, and relentlessly, fucking
gaining and winning their cheated points of power, and forever
screwing the poor peeps into endless hellish poverty and woe. This
nation makes me sick to my mother fucking ass stomach, and so do all
wealthy dirt bag fucking peeps.
GINA,
JUST AS YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU WOULD PIN ME IN ONE SECOND IN THAT ARM
WRESTLE, AND DID, YOU SUPER LOVELY TALL INCREDIBLE POWERFUL BEAUTIFUL
LONG DARK HAIRED LUSCIOUS FREAKING YOUNG BEAUTY QUEEN, IN 1998; I NOW
TELL THIS WORLD, THAT AS LONG AS THEY HAVE ME TO HURT, MARKET
UP/UP/UP/UP/UP, AND FLYERS ROTTEN SINGERS CLUB HOCKEY
WINS/WINS/WINS/WINS/WINS/ AND WINS!!!!!!!!!!! How I'll endlessly
remember the nightmare days of enduring that horrible rotten fucking
singer that promoted those cheating filthy dirty mobbed up
Philadelphia Flyers, and scum bag dirt ball diseased twisted evil
demonic Ed Snyder, with that totally awful shitty promotion on
Philly-57 television, and the way his horrendous rotten voice sang
those words, “Flyers Hockey, on Philly-fifty-seven”, just
thinking about it, I swear to the gods, I am growing totally fucking
nauseous right now, this very fucking ass minute, YO!!!!!
If
these fucking jerk offs won't stop this attack, and break off this
mother fucking shit that has been strong and beyond hell all week
fucking long, someone powerful will be dead in 48 mother fucking
hours, so watch the news, and then see if this breaks off by what
happens, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
One
thing I totally fucking ass know, and that is that some force out
here wants with all of their heart and soul, for me to fucking
discuss in detail, some powerful shit in both the years of 1972, as
well as 1975; involving the All Mighty Goddess of this Universe and
Multiverse, and I WILL NOT BETRAY MY FREAKING TEEN-QUEEN, NOT FOR
ANYBODY; so go screw your mothers, you diseased piles of puke!!! You
won't get these secrets out of me, you mother fucking shit heads, so
you may as well just give up!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION: SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 137
WLSBT-DATFILE:
CH-137-042911.875
TEOHIV/TMCAM
COPYRIGHTED
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011-MWM/MWM
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
Major
unnatural events are happening all around me, but this is nothing new
at all for me, it is an infinite situation, as the source of it is
indeed infinity, and has no more to do with space-time-mind worlds
other than the fact that these are the mirrored reflections and
dream-downs of the Astral Plane.
I
have a new mini-droid situation and have had it for several weeks
now, and it was not like this before at any time in Florida, and
since I've been here more than a full year now, I know every month of
pattern in weather as well as insects and pestilence sent by who else
but Diana's wonderful brother. This is only the very beginning. At
ten in the morning back on the 27th, my watch was
destroyed, or so I thought. I put new batts in it, dropped it on the
floor to shock it on three separate occasions, and nothing. I put it
away. I checked it and tried to make it work until I noticed today
when I went to go over to the Saint Lucie County Sheriff's Office on
Midway Road around just past one this freaking afternoon, boom, the
watch suddenly sprang back to life, for absolutely no apparent reason
at all. Still, this is nothing, you have not heard anything yet
peeps. As soon as I reset the watch to the correct time, and while I
was moving the hands around the face, it passed half past three, and
boom, out of the blue came more memories of many things, including
the '333' number which most likely only a few people on this planet
know about, and that's the freaking way it will stay, BRO. Then Diana
spoke into my mind and said in that adorable voice of hers that the
United States Copyright Office still has the tape of to this day from
somewhere in 1988, and told me that she was lying to me the other
night about not doing something, I cannot tell the blog more than
this, but the news tonight confirmed that she was playing her normal
game that all powerful goddesses love to play, but that is nothing,
Detective Brightlawns, NOTHING. I had no idea that I was confusing
blocked powerful memories of the past with recently occurring vivid
dreams. It seemed to all begin when I made a second contact with the
machine part of the mental JS realm of the wabbit cement business,
right lady, whoever you are??????????????????????????? All my blogs
may have to come down soon, including all my U-Tube garbage. I cannot
risk having SSJK angry with me, and with good cause. Speaking of
Copyrighted tapes of those times and days, David Roth made mention of
a strange parallel situation, only this is another area, and another
bay, and yes, other weeds. Still, I will not risk placing my my teen
queen in any risk of problems, so now my plans have altered. I most
likely will just do what I told Eddie Muscles at my old job I was
gonna do, and go do private security work over in hazardous parts of
the world, and then vanish out of sight for about 70-150 years, and
when I come back, all this fucking shit will be over and gone, and so
will all these damn secrets. I could always claim I am in with
Mizz-UmWell and doing a huge monster ass fiction story, but a real
super zealous prosecutor looking to make a name for his or her self
might just do the Dawn-Marie King table deal, so forget it, Atlantic
City Expressway accidents in any and all dimensions and parallels all
notwithstanding, YO. Diana informed me that I have several new
degrees from the Teck Bay Mystery School, and that I was correct,
this all went down on the Astral Plane, and I remembered this back in
my dream here when I was dreaming it was watch stop nightmare day.
But when something like this happens, be it my last birthday, or
nearly 5 months in the negative spaces, it is because the great
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL is active and doing their dancing and their Valerie
Bertrinelli thing, skinny or fat, as this is meaningless in higher
reality where anyone simply is whatever they think they are
instantaneously. Lightning Goddesses have fantastic senses of humor,
I have learned this the hard way, and do not even care what happens
ever, this is no more than a super cool video game to them, and they
are literally the human joysticks, we won't say tools as 25 years has
indeed now come and gone, right Library of Congress?
A
large part of the distant future has followed me back here, and has
propagated, and left few paper trails for their offspring to ever
really follow any of this. Still, STM is the power behind all of this
wild maze, there simply is never any way of getting around this truth
and reality.
Tonight,
I took a nasty hood-siege, but that is all par for the course, Tiger.
Go get him. Girl that is, not woods, test pressings, or any other
garbage of the EW. So one minute I am OK and the next minute, let's
dime the fucking bastard out to the media, oh well, what can anybody
do when nobody has a clue? The only one who remembers as much as me,
is Paula, and that is only IMHO.
So
this old hiding, ever seeing, non weed sucking new shoe; is gonna
sign off for right now. I was only getting my own background report
folks. The Housing Authority insists on this. The only way to save up
to leave Florida with all my stuff is to live cheaper, and save
whatever I can. All this internet shit is gonna be history, and get
removed very soon. BE CAREFUL 333. WOLF is onto you. Do you really
think all this is random, PK, not Todd Reality Ransom??????????
Let
me END TRANSMISSION, folks!!!!!! THAT'S ALL WARNER WABBITS,
WHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 132
MONDAY
EVENING 8:04 PM
APRIL
25, 2011
START:
Why
can't you help me Sheriff Monks?????????????????? You look like such
a nice guy on your website photo. Someone in your county just won't
stop putting my system back on their address and time, and it is
coming from 36th Avenue. Old blogs will reveal the details
of just exactly how I was able to manage learning the other end of
this source, with the A/B map and the yellow pages. It showed me
where I am, and it was not here on 26th Street in Florida,
but 36th Avenue, in San Mateo. I knew the machine had been
fucking hacked up when I went to use it an hour ago, and the weather
bug shit came up and froze and would not let me off or allow any
other controls to work, so I turned the power off, and fuck it, it
is all backed up on disc, so screw these dirt bags. SHERIFF, WON'T
YOU PLEASE ASK THESE NUT CASES TO LEAVE ME ALONE, T-H-A-N-K---Y-O-U.
If
I did not know better, I'd fucking swear that they actually, for
whatever stupid reason, are egging me on to tell what I recently
unblocked and remembered, and I will not hand anyone what they want,
it would be suicidal to tell this story.
Flyers
never lose, just as I said GINA, AND AS LONG AND LING AS THEY HAVE ME
TO FUCK WITH, THEY WON'T LOSE, and they will win that fucking STANLEY
CUP. I have been fighting these no good DNA controllers of Naziland
for too long now Mizz Karge Titanic, YO. I am not going to discuss
that horrible scarey fucking closet. I remember it all now, Aunt Ruth
Sharkington!!!!!!! Internet lies, sheeeeeeeit. First it shows Heinz
never married my Aunt Ruth, and if this is true, where are my cousins
Coral, Donald, Paul, Kathy, and Christine, you Boat-kisser Mister
Jimmy,Dean???????????????? You all think you can get away with this
nightmare shit, and you are so wrong. My father and his wild shit. I
WON'T TELL IT, SCREW ALL OF U! Hands Jefferson is signing off, YO.
Get me madder, and what I will do will dwarf the betting your
bippies, the quakes, the shakes, and fuck ups round the world, and
more. Keep fucking the shit with me.
Where
is the fucking FBI? Don't you all know what I am capable of doing if
provoked much longer, do you really want me to destroy this entire
fucking solar system, because I mother fucking
will???????????????????
GINA,
THE DOW WILL KEEP RIGHT ON GOING UP AND UP AND UP AND UP AND UP AND
UP, AND the FLYERS HICKEY GARBAGE TEAM WILL GO ON CHEATING THEIR WAY
INTO WIN AFTER WIN AFTER WIN, ALL HOLLOW CHEATED FUCKING VICTORIES.
This entire thing is the sick game of a teenaged girl who just
refuses to grow up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Any retard
can read these 6 years of blogs, and see this entire fucking
nightmare ass story is totally true and totally real, folks. There
would be nothing to be gained by this gigantic outlandish
fabrication.
I
NEED HELP FROM 2 MCDOWELL'S. One is the head of the freaking FCC, the
other told me a powerful thing back in 1963 in Philadelphia, in the
apartment of his mom, when he was just starting out as, no, not a
carpenter or banker or time traveler, but a male nurse, right
McKannon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And you told me this would all be
done to me, and it IS being done to me; and then you wonder why I
drove you nuts with a 'GAINES' fucking tape, sheeeeeit, you little
prick head gun totting rapper thug
you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am going back to 1980 right
now to give you the tape, this is where it all begins, today,
tonight, Sabrina Collinwood, before she and I were too happy to see
it.
'''''''{{{{{{(((((END)))))}}}}}}'''''''
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 139
SUPPLEMENTAL
ENTRY
START:
Horrible
mother fucking shit is being done to me. It is unspeakable, and cunt
lapping despicable.
IF
I AM FOUND DEAD, I WAS MURDERED BY THE GOVERNMENT, THE POWERFUL
FORTUNE 500 FAMILIES, AND THE MILITARY AND TOP SECRET BLACK FILE COVE
AGENCIES. THIS IS A DYING UTTERANCE AND CELCLARATION. SOMEONE TRIED
TO KILL ME, AND IT IS NOT OVER YET, THEY WILL TRY AGAIN. WHEN THEY
DO, THIS ENTIRE PLANET WILL BE UTTERLY AND TOTALLY OBLITERATED AND
WIPED OFF THE MAP OF THIS GALAXY. THAT, I DO PROMISE BOTH YOU MO, AND
MY FRIEND FROM 1969, KIMBA THE JULIE LION.
I
knew I was followed back in time beginning in the year 1969, by a
group who call themselves quietly, the 'LAMISTS'. This means the
controllers of the transistor, the 'chips', and the sky-mists. There
is a lot more to the story. Still, it may not be 1969 any more, but
Andy the dork remembers me, and I remember his obsession and
fascination with electricity. Still, he was even more fascinated by
the strange way that the winds seemed to obey my voice, and I never
forgot how I could call out and make them blow harder, or ask them to
blow softer or stop, and they would do so, every single time. This
only happened when we were together in a school recess yard, in
Haddonfield, New Jersey, huh Misses Low and Misses Marola? But where
is the mighty Jim Garrigan in all of this? After-all, he said I was
cured in 1971, and as a result, the university where he was studying
to get his degree in psychiatry, failed him that year. His thesis was
on one patient, me, Mountainpen, MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON,
HADDONFIELD, BLUEBERRYVILLE, NEW JERSEY, USAESMWG. How Fred Hinger's
beautiful daughter Shirley must always remember, and hate one
particular Thanksgiving Day, as well as good old drunken Dawn-Marie
HAMMONTON, Melanie bicycle riders and freaking all not freaking
withstanding, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes
Sir Fagot Elton, how the rhythm of my fucked up heart is beating to
the drums of old Freddie boy Hinger from the Philharmonic.
Do
you really wanna mother fucking know what pisses me off more than the
events that literally are threatening my life and existence right now
down here in hot ass fucking miserable shit eating Fort Pierce,
Florida, USAESMG, peeps, YO?????????? How can my daughters be so
powerful ass gifted, and simultaneously, get me into so much trouble
without ever even trying? BRO, this is the quintessential
philosophical conundrum of infinity. If the great Billy Shakespeare
thinks he has a bigger one, step up and I'll crank up my fucking
Panasonic amp that feeds into two power ass Peavey keyboard amps, and
half this county can hear what you tell me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!
All
anyone ever needs to do is to go to www.blogger.com
and type in MOUNTAINPEN, and archive research the last two thirds of
the year of 2008, and nothing else needs be talked about. But let me
talk anyway folks. Powerful mother fuckers would just love to
eternally fucking shut me the hell up. Look folks, I am so godsdamn
sorry for many things that have had to happen over the past
twenty-six years with my building Maggie, the shit with Zvonko's
inventions, and anyone who got in any way hurt as a result of getting
in the middle and in-between battle zones in this horrendous war that
I am in, and not through any personal choice on my part. I was sucked
into this shit by a gravity field so powerful, it would make the
sixth dimension learn how to collectively rock, roll, hip hop, and
disco dance, all at the same time.
When
I tried turning on the computer, it took longer than usual to boot
up, and when it did, sure enough, my clock was back on the earlier
time again. Then my address was back again on 36th Avenue, in San
Mateo, California, USAESMWG as well. Again, I remedied the bullshit,
and changed it all back to Eastern Daylight time, and my Fort Pierce
address. The machine is being reset by a cool looking device that is
bright yellow, and has digits on it, and looks like a telephone on
one side; and then on the other side, it looks like a small electric
space heater, and on top of that, is some type of small laptop
looking screen, with 3 ready lines, and numbers 1-12 above them. The
top line is silver and about half of an inch thick, the second line
is half that thickness, and is a bright beautiful blue, and then a
third bottom line is bright red and slowly moves from left to right
like a ready line on a computer. This machine is capable of going
into anyone's computer and doing anything, and it can go into
anyone's mind, awake or asleep, and make changes and cause effects
that cannot be rationally explained as well. Bright bold letters are
printed on the very top of this device, “NICA” then a space, and
then followed by “Made in Atlantica----Patent Pending 2087”. It
can also cause a person to get a fatal heart attack and drop dead, as
well as lose bowel control, and shit yourself like a baby. It however
does not exist on 36th Avenue in this exact atomic
frequency that is matching the signature vibrations of this
particular universe in hyperspace. However, there is another parallel
universe not far away in vibration, or in extremely localized
hyperspace, also known as (ELH), in the future after the 22nd
century arrives, where this does exist. This is where my younger
daughter is licked up at the detention center in Egg Harbor, New
Jersey, for trying to kill a state police officer who shot and killed
me. He shot me in the back, and I know his counterpart doppelganger
right here in this universe, and he knows me, and most likely, Elvis,
is reading this blog before this night ticks out.
So
why is the All Mighty doing all of this hyperspace activity one might
begin to wonder, should anyone believe any of this? Well, before you
doubt and scoff this off, remember that my daughter, Paula King
Junior, or PEE as she nicknamed herself, is a very special person, a
gifted child beyond anything describable. Her date of birth is the
29th of September, and this in the year of 2008, is when
all hell literally broke out around me, and if you read the blogs,
you will know that Nick did what I said he did, and basketball and
March sadness has nothing whatsoever to do with any of his monstrous
behavior. He knows that the great SSJK knows all of this
unconsciously, and he is desperately doing all that he can to make
sure that She never remembers any of this on an awake level, as his
life would be over in a flash should that happen, for what this piece
of disease is doing to me, both now, as well as in the middle
nineties, as Hubcap Hammer-Boy. Oh Mickey Showers, you may be
prettier than Donna's little White Boy, and the entire fucking
Copyright Office may be wise to all of this by now, or perhaps not,
but one thing is for certain. You and Loose-Rotors are on borrowed
time. If I can fix another enemy by wrecking his chances to wipe me
out as Top Dog in the near future, by my doing a Reagan Hostage Cove
Deal, then I certainly am not living in fear of your phone clock
machine, ya' prick!!!!!!!!! Better leave me fucking alone, Gate
Jammer 601!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
'YCBN'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and THAT can strand for a whole
lot of things, BRAHHHHHHHHHH.
Just
try and explain the '2008 road trip' Harry Callas, go ahead. New York
Nicks Basketball, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit!!!!!!! First we examine my
youngest daughter's birthday, and then other stuff that obviously
came my way in order to let me know that my 'TQ' remembers some of
this, on some awake and aware level, DUH. Not a lot of stuff goes by
me, YO!!!!!!! Color me observant. No one has more than five senses,
but the sense of touch is so misunderstood. We take our hand and
touch an ice cube, or a hot flame, or a soft jello type substance, or
a hard brick, and on and on; but then there is the reaching out and
the feeling of things that lay an inch away, or a mile, or a light
year, or a hypersphere, or into the freaking sixth dimension, into?
Did I ignorantly say into? We are who we are and we think our next
thought BECAUSE of the 6th dimension, so see how backwards
you mortals all are thinking and perceiving things?
COMPUTER------------'MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM'.
You know what to do after you hear my voice print, YO, and STOP.
END:
ONLY IT IS NOT THE END, AND
HERE IS WHY, FOLKS, AS I AM UP HERE IN THE FUTURE AT THE 4TH DAY IN
JUNE, 30YEARS AFTER MY CHOKING SHIT ALL BEGAN Back in fucking 1983.
Yes
it is middle twenty-thirteen now, people, and 133 CHAPTER IN SAFE
JOURNAL IS MISSING
FROM MY FILES, IT IS ON THE INTERNET HOWEVER, AND YOU NEED TO FUCKING
KNOW THIS, MY FRIENDS, AND MY ENEMIES. Go to
http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
and access SAFE JOURNAL 133, I will be pasting it back into my files
later on, FBI, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!! Funny, lovely BROWN EYED
ISIS, real funny!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You
must know about the hypertronic gravigain top, but how about the
great dynamited hotel in Atlantic city, WEEEEEE?
Well
peeps, if I do not stop here, I will get a page one-hundred-eleven,
and THAT, sir Rockdroid, we sure as all shit, DO NOT NEED,
W—O—W!!!!!!!!!!!!!
End Transmission great folks, & mighty believers. Keep the faith,
in Morianity.
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