MORIANITY,
PART FIVE,
AND PLEASE BELIEVERS
AND L-4 FOLKS,
TRY AND HAVE
YOURSELVES
A VERY
VERY NICE DAY,
AHA!!
YOU
ARE
CONTINUING
TO
READ
CHAPTER
00140.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
SO
PLEASE DO SO,
AS THIS IS MAJOR
MAJOR!!!!!!!
The
approximate time is a quarter past two in the morning, and the
date is 26 July, East Coast America time, Friday, 2013, here
in Fort Fucked up Pierce, Jerked Off, Florida, USA, Earth-Sol-Milky
Way Galaxy.
I
hereby now beginneth this transmission:
Good
moanin' folks. I am totally hacked and will most likely be throwing
away this computer. You see a lot of shit on fucking television about
services that can help you, for a price naturally, but I do not think
it is going to help, I may try and I may not. Right now, the newest
hack is this stupid fucking light bulb that appears at the bottom
right of my screen and will not go away unless you ignore it each
time and stop clicking onto it, some sort of word program bullshit
but it should not be self activating over and over. Ever since mother
fucking one week ago, as you all remember I am quite sure, two
Thursdays now, or for 8 days straight, I have been under a non-stop
hell and siege. Fire alarms every single day, as many as three times
in one day, and this has never happened before. Before I get rid of
this machine, I will bring the Staples Store guru over again, another
100 bucks, but I have no choice. As for the light bulb hack, I have
made a thick cardboard cut out 2 by 2 inches and rolled a piece of
black electrical tape up and have affixed this to block out this
annoying fucking pop up, and it did me a favor, as now, I will not
see the fucking clock be hacked any more, or get fucked by seeing
ones and Jane slime-ball-bitch Notfondauu. So thank you, 'mother
fuckers', good or bad names, and hoods!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You want real
fucking war with me, you god dam mother fucking slime bag cock
suckers, and you will have one I will tell the maybe three or four
peeps out here who are real folks and not OTAMM enemies, some real
heavy truths, and if you do not spread it around the internet, you
are doing a real disfavor to lots of good honest folks, who still
believe in pixie dust, Irish Lep-Magic, and Santa Fucking
Claus!!!!!!! This will be a little rat-tat-telling of some nasty
secrets that they don't want fucking told, and you better bet and
know, Mister Ward Cleaver and others, that I have nothing to gain by
misleading any of you, in fact, I just want to fucking bring you all
a tiny tad morsel of electronic education, if you'll
Uncle-Heinz-Gozzwald permit me, camera and all, and yes wow, from
December of 1972, let us all be dammed, speaking of fucking
Beaver!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Most of us have tried reading several or maybe
quite a lot of the world famous “Books 4 dummies”, on every
conceivable subject I believe nowadays, from internet, youtube, the
PC, to how to properly blow your nose or fart through a hose, Mister
John Late King Roofdog Phonydauts. Shall we begin, oh lovely ladies
and gentlemen:
We
are going to begin this discourse with my telling you a nasty truth,
that dumb little me knows to be true, and if I am ever believed, a
recently new term used every day now that has nothing to do with
illness and disease as it once was limited to and still should be,
and that would be something ''going viral''. The sad truth folks is
this is a huge hoax and I will explain the entire thing to all of you
who do not know, and those who do know are hating my guts for
attempting to blow away this little fucking stupid fantasy, and that
is all that it is. Once upon a time, recording artists would sell
vinyl records and cassette tapes and even 8-track tapes, but all that
aside in the pre-digital age of electronic dinosaurs, this is a
simple truth that is ugly, especially for peeps like me who have made
enemies for whatever the reasons may be, and lots of you without even
knowing it are on the same lists I am on, and this is why your life,
hard as you may try, is going no place, and you are miserable, ball
bust 24-7 as you may endlessly keep trying, in vane. Let me use the
old music world days just so I can build this ugly monster and show
you how it all works. Don't think this blog will not be re-posted 4
or 5 times every single month, as I plan to tell this story until
SOME WORLD POWER SUCCESSFULLY SHUTS ME FUCKING UP, AND THEY WILL,
eventually, but that is then, and this is now. Rather than try and
tell complicated way out nutty sounding unbelievable fish tale truths
about things on a big ass fucking scientific Einsteinian level, we
will now be concentrating here in Morianity, on just the exact
opposite. I am going to really keep trying harder and harder, to talk
third grade, as I am slowly coming to realize my words are being
interpreted, based on my concepts of things, THIRD GRADE, no offense.
When
a recording artist sells half a million records, be it old days vinyl
or today's CD, it was and maybe still is, called silver sales. One
million is gold, two million is platinum, and when some great project
sells past the 4 or the 6 mega stage, they called it and perhaps
still do, double or triple platinum. If you think that any kind of
randomness was behind these large volume success stories and high
volume sales, you would be wrong. Also, to assume talent is the only
factor involved, is a laugh nine hours long. Same would apply to any
other single thing. Numerous things all connect and commingle
together, and naturally, in order to sell any product, there must be
a world or at least a national level agreement, that what someone is
trying to sell, is popular and pleasing, as it is no easy task for
anyone to separate another from their hard earned money, you must
exchange something that is desired, or said maybe another quick way,
is popular. All the talent in the world by itself is nothing, and all
the promotion in the world is nothing, so you need to have a pleasing
product to be considered popular, and then you need money behind you
to push that product, or you could be selling eternal life for three
dollars, and you will get nowhere. Now I could get all complicated as
to how things work in any selling industry, and although I possess no
degree in marketing, I did sales work, I worked in the music
business, and I do have a basic knowledge of many things, including
well hidden secrets. I told a long time ago about the producer button
on the old recording machines, and if you think that was my only
secret, you can be quite free to rethink that all you wish, as you'd
be in the right. I know way to much for my own good, and that stays
there.
Now
we will bring into this mix, the computer age, and the great social
media of the twenty-first century. We could be all night long talking
about the most basic fucking shit, good people. Let me skip to
Youtube and viral videos, because I am about as sick and tired as one
can get, of hearing about these so-called nonsensical things, I could
expel poison sumac weeds right through my walls. There are three
kinds of videos anyone can post on the social media site Youtube, or
any other type of site, and there are others less known. One is a low
volume unpopular video. One is a viral video. One is a payola video.
This is powerful truth that needs to be more carefully explained. You
open up a Youtube Account, create a page, and start posting videos.
You will never be anything other than a low volume unpopular video, I
do not care if you post a video that when you click on it, Blue eyes
himself pops out of the screen, materializes in your room, and sings,
“Fly Me To The moon”, in full real life drama, then vanishes back
into the video at the end, and it closes like any normal video. This
may be a slight exaggeration, but I need to get loud and dirty and
come full power, or no one wants to even fucking listen to anything I
ever tell. On the other hand, it could be a 20 second clip of turning
on your cellphone and recording yourself hanging from a chandelier,
and singing a song called, “I'm Hanging Around 4U”, all out of
tune, and it goes 'viral'. Notbhing GOES viral. If CNN, or a large
music or movie studio, or a large press outlet, randomly decides to
promote you after accidentally falling onto your post like a lottery
winner picking the correct number, THAT, is what virals the video,
and if you all don't wanna' believe me, FINE, stay fucking stupid.
Now you can PAY. You go to Google and do one of two things. You can
use this AD-WORD stuff and you will pay a minimum of 25 dollars per
day and they will 'feature' your video from time to time, depending
on the size of your account “how much MONEY that you wish to pay
them. Also, you can go to GOOGLE SEARCH, and type in this short
little phrase, YOUTUBE VIEWS. These are the networking systems that
legally have programmed networking systems that are not robotic, that
can deliver bulk amounts of views, as well as comments,
subscriptions, and like/dislike displays, the whole fucking 9 yards,
word spell checker is too stupid to properly show me how to fucking
spell the word that sounds like a Mexican Pizza. It is really a
worthless fucking hunk of junk these days for me, unless I am just
getting more fucking hacking, which could be totally the case here,
good folks! For fifteen dollars, I bought one 5-K package of views
on my YBCO song. The extra views are nothing more than them going out
of their way to be clever and tricky, to make me think and falsely
believe that anyone could care less about my videos, and hope I will
buy another 5000. I will not. So let us go over this again. You can
buy-fake the count, you can accept that just your friends are going
to look at your stuff, if you're lucky, and then you can be the
lottery winner, people win th fucking powerball or mega jackpot
lottery, every single week and month, somewhere. This means, you were
randomly viewed by someone with lots of clout who decides to viral
your video. If some news press system or some music or movie studio
sees something and airs it or promotes it in numerous potential ways,
then one thing does lead to another, and overnight there it is,
100,000, a million, maybe ten. You might as well play the fucking
lottery at the local gas pump!
Now
if you just want to network a bunch of friends all together in
Twitter and Facebook and Youtube, and post lots of stuff, you can
find yourself getting 1-10 thousand views on your stuff, maybe. This
friends and fiends, is the simple ABC's lesson about so-called viral
videos. I plan to post this blog along with other blogs, at least a
few times monthly, as I feel the world needs to grab that coffee cup
in the morning, force an eyelid open, and wake up to the dam fucking
truth, and for those out here that tell me I am lying about this and
it is just my own sour grapes because I never got any action, then
you know what, folks, you just have yourselves a real nice time
believing that, it's your fantasy, not mine. I stick to what is real,
what is honest, and I do not like this capitalistic money grubbing
evil world one bit. How fast all of you god dam fucking assholes have
forgotten 2008 and the stock market bail out and now these crooks are
at record all time highs, and let me ask you, haters and doubters of
me, are you a lot better off than back in 2008? I already know the
true answer. 97-99 percent of you are NOT. A very few are, wow, rock
on, and viral on, I am just telling the truth, and if you want to
hold it all against me about that one dam shit eating fib about Sarah
and July the twelfth in 1970, FINE, YO! SAWN-U BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!! Some
of you out here know the real total truth, and hate my fucking guts,
and that's fine, but you know. You know the whole god dam rotten
bloody mess, from here to the age of Aquarius. At least I can make up
my mind and do not vacillate back and forth. One minute I am of
significant eternal value, the next, well year not minute, but that
depends on how fast your mass is traveling, I am violently insane. I
will now leave my worries behind, Jason, and tell Boo that if he gets
taken to Rock Road again, don't call me, call my Golden Nugget PCN.
Oh
yes, baby-love, I asked Gawky Gaukauk why last Thursday's attack came
down on me like a bolt of lightning, and what did I get but PCN-165.
Now not to sound like a total trash-can or a female offspring, or get
myself shot through the heart at the CCP Office or any of its
transdimensional doppelgangers in high school Mister Disney Sir, BUT,
when I asked what this huge COMPUTER HACK IS ALL ABOUT, yeah you got
it, PCN-835. Did anybody say W---O---W, Bob Chabot, or is there some
other excuse again, Mister Tom Cruise, old jet-pal??????????????????
Have
another one on me, Leticia; as I am still laughing thinking about
that day you barked at Brownie, but will never know why you wonderful
cuzz wanted Midge. Joe didn't put that magical crap inside my car
into his collar, so nobody's joining Frankie any time soon,
WEEEEEEEEEEE!
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I
want to say three other things, but don't have the rocks to do so.
All I will say is this. I will have the dude over again to try and
clear out my hack, and then I am reporting this to the authorities in
writing, and they will ignore me as they always do, but I will send a
copy to the World Court at the Hague.
The
odds of the last 8 days being what they are, Ed Himacane sir, and the
odds of a random draw that would produce both Gawnum roots 16 and 83,
eighty one squared, or one chance in 6561 for happening at pure
random. Now for any UFO buffs out here. I cannot get anyone to help
me any more than you can. You unlike me have a choice. My advice to
you is forget all this, and just get on with a normal life, WHILE
YOU STILL CAN!
Google
will shrink this, they usually defy me and do the opposite, but this
underline message is in very large font type, size 54 or somewhere in
that vicinity, so they shrink it to screw with me. If it takes me 500
years, this is a guarantee and a promise to anyone whom this might
concern. I WILL prove to a large bulk of peeps, that this was all
done to me first, done against me, done by those whom I claim, and if
you think about it all rationally, why would someone admit that I am
for real, and still, leave it at that? Is anybody's voicemail system,
SUDDENLY HEARING anything from the mighty Walmart Chain, or is it
just me, WHAAAAAAAAABIT?
Well
let me leave here, fly over to the Bird Dicks, and then maybe to
Roadway or Exton, or maybe even Carla Liar Carlisle, or if they clip
my wings Joan Lapplane, I still get to catch the dam bus, and right
there near Jenny Plageman's miserable fucking illegal hellhole. Why I
did not sue a landlady who refused my right to have guests, I'll
never know. Then people talk about the bad shit I have done. How
about what all of you rotten cock suckers have done to me, just to
make your billions, you miserable mother fucking sinful evil
slobs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MORIANITY
PART FIVE CONTINUES:
A
child knows that a lot of shit can be learned by visiting my Youtube
site that will be gone forever very shortly, your loss folks, not
freaking mine. VERY SOON GONE!!!!!!!!!
THE MASTER SHEET FOR MORIANITY PART FIVE:
Add to Your Facebook Timeline
Showcase
your uploads, Stories and other recent activity on your Facebook
Timeline. You're always in control of who sees what - you can turn
it off or remove posts at any time.
theansweristheqyuestion
On
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My blogs
About me
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Occupation
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Location
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Hammonton,
New Jersey, United States
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Introduction
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Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can
honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or
have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through
hyperspace, with awareness.
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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.
THIS
IS NOW CHAPTER NUMBER 00140.
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.
YES
FOLKS, THE BLU-CRAN SYNDROME, WHAT WORKED
LONG
AGO FOR QUITE A WHILE, AIN'T WORKING, WEENA.
Here
is the updated situation, Mister Beaver Cleaver. Dear Journal:
Lotsanlots of stuff is happening, some in one realm, others in other
realms, that will all get around to effecting the realm that my body
is now typing this message to you all, in.
Read
the older blog folks, I have my reasons!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
RED
ALERT, RED ALERT, RED ALERT
I
JUST HAD MY ENTIRE OFFICE WORD SYSTEM TOTALLY CRASH AT 1:54 PM-EDST
ON THIS CUNT CHEWING SATURDAY AFTERNOON, DEVIL
FUCKING NUMBER 23 MARCH FROM HELL, IN
2013, A
YEAR THAT ALSO IS NOT FILLED WITH DIGITS THAT I LOVE ALL THAT MUCH.
ALSO IT IS HOT, IT WILL BE NEARLY 90 LATER, AND IS CURRENTLY 86;
ANOTHER NUMBER I CAN TOTALLY MOTHER FUCKING LIVE WITHOUT.
THIS
HAPPENED FOR ABSOLUTELY NO REASON WHATSOEVER. THE ENTIRE SHIT JUST
FUCKING CUNT TOTALLY FROZE UP, AND NOTHING COULD UNDO ME, OR STOP THE
HACK-FREEZE, SO I HAD TO MANUALLY SHUT DOWN AND GO THROUGH A SYSTEMS
RECOVERY PROCESS.
I
am under a heavy fucking attack, and I could use some help
here, SHERIFF MASCARA, STATE
POLICE OF FLORIDA, LOCAL PEE-DEE OF FORT
PIERCE, STATE AG PAM BONDI,
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, AND
FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION, NOT
TO FUCKING MENTION THE AMERICAN CIVIL LIBERTIES GOD DAM UNION.
THEY'RE AT IT AGAIN, BOB MCDOWELL, PAL!
It
is quite obvious, that forces that know what I am going to say, and
all ready have read it after I have posted it; WENT BACK
INTO FUCKING TIME AND HACKED ME, so as to prevent as many near
and localized parallel universes to get this message and information,
thinning out the full fifth dimensional power of my message; but at
least in this universe; things now are back operational. Still this
hack will be punished, along with my horrible fucking noisy door
banging nabes that have been bad day and night all week now.
COMPUTER, MAGNETIC SOUND MACHINE: OPEN COMMAND ON G-7,
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM:
USE
ALL GENERAL AND CODED GENERAL ORDERS, BOTH AD AND ZD TECHNOLOGIES,
AND ALL NECESSARY FUNCTIONS, ANTIHACKING UNDER G-1133, AND I AM
MAXING OUT YOUR POWER PULL GAIN NOW TO 11.8 IPNS, AND ALL CONTROLS
AGAINST YOUR GAIN AT MAX OUT POSITION 11.5 IPNS. I AM SWITCHING YOUR
DESIRE KEY FROM THE NORMAL AND NEUTRAL POSITION OF 'J', TO THE 'I'
POSITION. A TOTALLY CRUSHED AND SINGED AND OBLITERATED WRIPPED TO
SHREDS IMAGE-OBJECT (I-O) IS NOW BEING PLACED ON YOUR TRANSPOWER
BLOCK. ON AN 'I' TO 'D', A/B, TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING
SYSTEM, SCAN TO MATCH THE ENEMIES TO THE DESTROYED AND WIPED OUT I-O.
NOW LOCATE THESE ENEMIES MAKING MY LIFE A LIVING FUCKING NIGHTMARE
ENDLESS HELL, AND THIS 'I-O' IS THE SAME THING AS THEM, AND NEEDS
FULL EMPOWERMENT. YOU WILL NOW HEAR THE A/B TONES AS THE LONG AND
FULL VOWEL SOUND LETTER E. COMPUTER, RESPOND TO THIS.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE---A-TONE.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE---B-TONE.
COMPUTER,
G-901, CG-18, AND S-----T-----O-----P!!!!!
Yes,
we will discuss a lot of things, but not right now or here, as this
really fucked me up, and quite obviously, the Phillies or the Flyers,
or both of these fucking sports teams; are having a day game, or
night game later on today; and that is why this super siege and
fucking SUPER BOTBAR is striking me, all though March is 90 percent
fucking botbar (MPB), so what's the difference, so does anyone still
wonder why I love the mother fucking month of March so much if I can
be sarcastic here folks, and look back at the older blogs recently
re-posted, of that other wonderful mother fucking March back in 2008,
5 rotten fucking years ago, when my kid began screwing with me,
again, first in the eighties, now all over again, fun fun fun, and I
do intend to take the Thunderbird away, and maybe the BB's, and yes;
that can stand for a sports reality, or a musical one, TD, so bank on
it, and PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, GIVE ME MY FREAKING WOW TRUCK BACK.
PLEASE.
Folks I won't be shy, this entire month has been hell nightmare
fucking city cubed, for fucking me, and Magnesonic will indeed be
retaliating, so you can all expect the following shit: LOTS OF AIR
CRASHES AND DISASTERS, LOTS OF POWERFUL FUCKING STORMS, QUAKES,
VOLCANOES, FLOODS, WILDFIRES, DROUGHTS, AND ALL MANNER OF UNPLEASANT
SHIT WILL GO DOWN, FOR ALL THAT'S FUCKING BEEN DONE TO ME; YOU MOTHER
FUCKING JERK OFF SCUM BAG MONSTERS!!!
No
Patty Jane, there are no physics, not in the way you are perceiving
them, nor are the gods using an invisible power that is magical. It
all is from a super high technological reality, and I have said this
right along, all throughout the 80 and 90 year decades back in the
twentieth century, over a bugged telephone, as my phone has been
tapped by World Owner (WO) authorities since I first had one when my
mom got our first phone after moving from Philly to Southwest New
Jersey, to 125-A, Haddon Hills Apartments, in Westmont, New Jersey,
back in the first week of October of 1964. Yesterday and change to
me. My memories go back quadrillions of eons before my birth where I
witnessed my first snow storm, with or without Callio, Santa Claus,
or Patty the wonderful many-names, many-identities somnambulist. Some
may be wondering why I did not unhack myself while
office-program-frozen, by using the trick I mentioned with jiggling
the headphone jack. This only works when attached to my entire
system, which recently, since music has been written out of my life
permanently, I have taken completely apart and is being stored in
boxes. Without this, it does not work, it is the powerful sonic
pressure buildup that when the cord is jiggled, seems to break any
kind of hack freeze and shuts down the system. It is just as easy for
me to manually shut it off, turn it on, and go through a short series
of system recovery steps. I was meaning to tell anyone who may have
tried this trick, and does not have a big home theater all hooked in
with their computer, it will not work, not without the power to make
the jiggled wire, make huge clicking and other sounds that do indeed
force a shut down to occur, just why, I will not ever be sure of I
suppose, but it is obviously due to the build of a powerful
electromagnetic field of energy that in some way, causes the
electronics of the PC itself, to just shut down, no matter what hack
is stopping it. Again, doing this trick without your PC attached to a
big system, will not interrupt the hack and force a shut down, that
will not require any systems recovery process, or the chance that
someday, you'll be glad you backed your fucking files all up on a dam
bunch of CD blanks. I did not think the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE would do
this again so soon, so I most likely will reattach my home theater
again, and hook the computer plug in the back into one of the mixer
channels. That is all I need to do to put a mighty bunch of blasting
clicks into the system and force a shut down, and beat these fucking
hackers at their own game, FBI, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Last
night I was watching a little TV on the H-2 Channel, and was struck
with a powerful death siege besides just daily strikes from my
HELL-NABES and shouting and banging. Back on a super roll, is the
SHIT AND CRAMPING ATTACKS on my health and body, by the evil mother
fucking WOMO ENEMIES. I was watching a documentary on Einstein,
speaking of bios, be them on blogs by nobody nothing little me, or
greats like Sir Albert. Things seem to keep fitting more and more on
a daily, monthly, and annual basis, and it never appears to even want
to quit, just getting bigger and stronger every day, like that lovely
teenage golfing girl from earlier this millennium, remember, I do not
ever forget any little thing, and I AM like a huge tape that I can
put in reverse and except for family gap-outs done to me
intentionally on a dozen occasions, my memories go clearly and
concisely back to my birth, and then way way way back before that.
Yes it was talking about AE and his many not normally known parts of
his life. It mentioned his favorite book, and things keep right on
fitting, but there is so much more. It only all happened, because I
had recently taken my original blogging bio-page, and added it to my
new Morianity Part 5 MASTER SHEET. Things all connect, and he
himself wrote a great paper on just why they do, calling it quantum
entanglement and or spooky communications. I began trying to tape the
show after the shit attack came suddenly on me, after
hearing his fave book was called 'Isis Unveiled', the odds
of that, and 2008,
all going down as they did; and then Morianity;
would be beyond what even this super mind would be able to accurately
calculate, but I am stabbing the darkness here with an
approximation, these odds would be in some kind of neighborhood with
one in 193 trillion. Translation, there is just no way this is all
not part of the wildest quantum entanglement in the history of this
dream-out from the
VOID-INFINITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But then
there was the “L&O” Television this morning. Anyone who is
following this, and knows that I never watched that show, or even
knew about it at all, back in the twentieth century; and how so much
all fits together, Patty Jane. There is a lot more going on that your
character in the great 'Mentalist' show will ever have a clue about.
I had no idea about anything, despite my experiences with Mister
Poole at Haddonwood, not knowing about the great law show as I was
quite busy with problems of my own such as surviving enemies from
another realm that were attacking me for ten years at that time and
still are of course, and I only watched a very few choice things, as
I do now, and then, L&O was not on the list. Still, these two
episodes at the start were running in a sequential order, and when I
re-watched this show in this century, they never played it in order
on the re-run network that carried it, normally, Turner's, and by the
way that was a typo, why would I say, family family, you may have
figured out that I meant to type in FONDA FAMILY!!!!!! Even if the
human entertainment world made up of living breathing people, were
never aware of all of this entire shit, they knew it in deeper levels
within themselves all along, or this just could not have all
happened, well, it could, if you wish to believe that this was that
one in 193 trillion times. Hay, I have got bridges to sell you, and
an Easter bunny named Harvey-2, if you want to write me a check.
Quintessential gullibility, like
fucking WOW.
Yes
Debbie Marotto, I'll be in your office bright and early on Monday
morning, to discuss the nabes; and I will move with my doctors note,
but first; you need to see and hear some things. Then I'll go get the
note, and plan to move soon; as I do not intend to be victimized by
my fucking son in law's crew any longer, and over there; he won't be
able to fucking get at me without a lot
more of a fucking struggle. Eventually, when I prove it all, he will
be very monster-ass sorry. I cannot worry about blow-back or
retaliations, or anything else for that matter, this STOPS, or this
is what WILL HAPPEN. 555555555555555555555555555555555555555555 PLUS
555555555555555 TIMES 555555555555555555, and divided by
55555555555555555555, is equal to who cares YO? I just wanna; see the
fives, I need to see 5555555's and I need to have my freaking
WOW-TRUCK back, TD-BANK, P-L-E-A-S-E.
Thank
you so very much DIANA, for bringing me your wonderful and awesome
beautiful dazzling lightning earlier today while it was dark outside.
You made the most beautiful display of colors and fractal designs in
the skies outside my window, that I have ever yet seen you do. You
know how much I will always love you, baby-blond.
It
is 3:09, and my NABES slammed the door AGAIN. These twisted ill
bastards are so annoying it can only be measured in Christ
Crucifixions. I would say they rate a good 5-10 somewhere. Hay, ISIS,
if your pal, and my dad's pal, AE can have light years to measure
vast distances of space, then I need to have a huge suffering meter
to measure my endless horrendous mother fucking eternal hell, day by
day by day! Oh well, except for a small few days, MARCH=BOTBAR,
and has dwarfed the past months that I've lived down here in cock
sucking Fort Pierce, Florida. Yes Mister Macy, it is the only fitting
word to use, so here goes; W----O----W!
The
problem is that it is worse now in late JULY, on this 26th
fucking day, than back here in time. But the problem is not so much a
date, as a reason, and this reason is just what Jim Burr said it was
all along, and how he knew all of this way back in 1974, copyright
Office, I will never have a good answer for you on, sorry, mister
fucking Ambassador!!!!!!!!!!
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0220
SATURDAY,
AUGUST 27, 2011
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONH-COUNCIL AND ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT
CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER 4:
“THIS
AIN'T TERRY EGGHEADS' BLOG”
COPYRIGHTED
MOUNTAINPEN BLOGS 2006-2011
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
Thursday
and Friday, I did not leave my building residence. Local bullshit
applies. Media hype also applies. We all try and earn some kind of a
living, so I am not here sitting on judgment seats, in fact, I could
totally care less what anybody does, that is until it crosses into my
face, where as McCoy says so well, is where your fist must stop. When
I was a young dude, both growing up as well as in my early adulthood;
and well before all the PC or Political Correctness movement began
and grew with roots that were made of compressed steroids; so much
was different that trying to discuss it all rationally right now on a
blog would be a quintessential exercise in futility. This problem or
situation has an upside potential, and many of you know what it is,
since I can talk a big tune and curse out the world, but am quite
mousy in person, and it is noticed quickly, especially by bully type
personality folks. Still, I commend the cunning-ness and total
cleverness, in a major PC environment, of my vulgar putrid and crude
enemies everywhere, to indeed hatch a plan in these times, and carry
it off with unfathomable success and precision, taking my entire life
away from me, AND MAKING ME LOOK LIKE THE JERK OFF, THE FOOL, THE BAD
GUY, AND THE SIKE-CASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Congratulations, and if I could offer the DICKHEAD OF THE MILLENNIUM
AWARD, to these nice wonderful awesome cock sucking trash, I WOULD.
You can believe that, if you ever believed any other dog shit thing
in your lives, folks. Doing so much horror to me for no real good
reason, and then making me look and appear like the heavy, the evil
motive man, or the Callio Stalker of the early New-Age, and other
things; proves to me that there are reasons for 110 pound girls, to
indeed possess the physical strength of Hercules. I totally know that
living along with all of us, are many un-real peeps, or maybe as
Mister Data, artificial peeps, or to throw in a greater one still,
other unknown peeps. I told the Chief of the Atlantic City Beach
Patrol in September of 1997, that no one knows the future, and he
smiled at me as though, HE DID, and never said a word, maybe because
he all ready knew that what he just had told me would indeed happen,
as well as his becoming the future mayor of Atlantic City. Maybe if
he had wanted to give me a tape of a song that he had written, it
would have begun before the music started to play, with a muffled
word of 'MAYOR'. This indeed, is how 'MOVERS' do operate. They are
all over the place. They have marked up library books in every county
in this nation, and much more, they are trying to tell things, but
unlike me, more cleverly, and more 'subtly', as Scylla might very
well decide to word and say it. Just how real a lot of bull fucking
shit really is around me, I am quite positive that I will never know,
with or without any copyrighted precious girls, or infected chemtrail
nodes. Still, can all of what I recently thought that I cracked open,
be no more than a cosmic detective-program, solving the piece
fittings? After-all, if chaos abounds, and things by themselves go
from order to chaos and ruination, then a balance of this effect is
necessary in order to compensate, and for keeping the entire cosmos
from ultimately spinning out of control and into oblivion; or back
into it would be a better 'MORIANITY' fitting way of presenting the
argument folks. Our entire planetary biosphere runs on automatic, so
why not some type of built in ultimate decaying into chaos
compensation system, perhaps abbreviated and said why not some type
of a (UDICCS)? 'U-DICKS' out here in cyber-reality may wanna'
pronounce it just like that.
I
will tell you some shit that is not one bit automatic; Crooked Peeps
on WALL STREET. They conspire to run prices up and down every day,
they gun for stop-loss protection orders, they illegally manipulate
the prices, they steal our hard earned money; and 'THEY' are fully
licensed by a totally crooked federal agency called the SEC. This
stands for the SECURITIES and EXCHANGE COMMISSION. What good is a
stop-loss order, when they know it is there, and so they gap the
price up or down by a large amount that only permits the smaller
investors from exiting their positions at the next tick of this
illegally created gap. These are no different than the illegally
created parallel-events that they use on folks, as another huge
monstrous weapon-tool. Their markets flew up by 5 or more percent
this week. If I am so wrong and confused, tell me this, anybody. HOW
CAN AMERICA BE DOWN-GRADED IN INTERNATIONAL CREDIT RATING OR ABILITY
TO BORROW AT LOWEST INTEREST, and not have the stock market drop to
either of the two previous levels, the 2010 low of around 8800
points, or the 2009 low of around 6550 points? With a downgrade in
credit, an event more unusual than HURRICAN IRENE, and way more far
reaching and devastating to the future of this country; THEN WHY IS
THE MARKET NOT FOLLOWING THE REALITY, nor matching the negative point
values, reached when we still had a TRIPLE-A+ CREDIT RATING,
YO????????????????Powerful peeps and families have many powerful
methods that protect them in numerous ways, from ever being
recognized for committing the thefts and frauds of all of us, on such
a daily and continuous basis. Let me move along and stay on the same
topic, while proving this point.
I
went down to a town that was just to the south of Atlantic City, New
Jersey, USAESMWG, in the middle late part of June, in the year of
1970, Florida Lottery scrambling the middle digits up and my death as
Franklin, notwithstanding; and thought I was going to be a Plumbers'
Assistant. The so-called plumber being none other than child molester
Thomas J. Reale. This mother fucker got away with molesting me twice,
and I departed this nightmare at the age of 15 and a half years, on
the night of 12 July, in 1970, at around 10:30 at night, leaving on
the local bus out of town, single suit case in hand, on the Public
Bus Terminal bus; that went through the local area of Main Street in
Plesantville, where the great girl gang of the Callio branch of TWAF
was also on this bus, and all around me flirting with me, calling me
“THAT-BOY”, giggling, and only one of these girls hated me, which
one I do not know. I had a bad sun burn, and she said to her friend,
regarding me, “His face is all messed up”, and it totally was, it
was burned and sore, and indeed looked as hideous as the Frankenstein
monster. My point here, is not on my sunburn, this mighty girl gang
known then and there as the New Jersey Quoddy-Mocckers, because they
hung around the boardwalk and Saint James Place store, called the
Quoddy Moccasins, public bus rides; or final vacation days at famous
seashore resorts. It is however about TOM, the semi-fagot child
lover. Where is the New York City SVU, when I am the mother fucking
victim? Up in the future passing judgment on me and calling me “THE
BAD GUY”, that's where. If you roll over in your grave, DAVE, be
careful of Paula King, and your lovely NINA. To this day, Tom Reale,
never made it onto the Megan Law List, or any other child offense
list to the best of my knowledge. So why did he just do this horrible
fucking shit to me, and no other child? According to the great 'LAW
AND ORDER' TELEVISION SHOW, these kind of sick mother fuckers are
repeat offenders, so WHY ONLY ME, WORLD? Millions of Elizabeth
Montgomery possibilities are popping into my head; so I wanna' know
if they are popping into any of yours?
New
readers need to understand some very powerful shit about my story. It
is real and honest, and totally heart wrenching, that is if you
happen to be human, and have a conscience or a heart to start with;
as if not; you will be one of the many who daily puke on me, and tell
me I am nothing but a ton of worthless fucking dog shit, and to go to
fucking ass hell. Ann told me not to let them win by killing myself.
What she is incapable of understanding is, that I cannot kill myself.
I have tried, and so has the enemy, to get rid of me, on many many
many many fucking ass occasions. All I do is wake up, and it all was
just a nightmare dream, as if whatever had killed me was in a dream,
and now I am in a similar reality, with the one distinct difference
being that the act that caused my death, never happened in this new
parallel reality. Yeah, sounds like a fish tale the size of Moby
Dick, but the problem is that some fish tales are totally fucking
true, as are mine. Two other monumental ones took place on exact
days, and spread apart by precisely 10-YEARS, 1986 and 1996. IF I
LIE, I HOPE TO BURN IN OIL FOR A QUADRILLION MOTHER FUCKING EONS. The
magic date in both cases is the 2nd of August. The first
one involved meeting a very special wonderful teenager, when I was
unfortunately nearly 32 years old, in the great city of NYNY. This
chance encounter led me to write a meaningless song a couple of days
later, sending it along with some other songs, as a package musical
project, down to the United States Office of the Copyrights, Library
of the Congress, on the 15th, 13 days later. The song was
an unflattering, and totally mean song. It was heartless and cruel,
but I had no idea that this person would go onto to graduate high
school, and soon afterward, become the greatest voice in the entire
music world. What am I, GOD? 'MOVERS' set it all up, they are GOD,
not me. Now for the day ten years later, August second in 1996. My
mother and I went to a diner in Egg Harbor, New Jersey. A very
attractive waitress took our order, and when she brought over some
drinking water, she blurted out something that almost made my poor
mother wretch. She said to me, “You know don't you, there's a
contract on your life”. I told her I have no idea what she is
talking about. I had just written a song shortly before this, back on
the 12th day of fucking May, called, “SARAH”, a name
that seems to be connected with the lives of many songwriters, and
sung by many well known recording artists. I wish to shit peeps, that
I still had my old website in operation;
www.morianity-foundation.com/
as some of my music, including this song, was up there on that site.
I know that some of you out here have been up on that site. The
entire distant future has, but that is easy for them to do, using a
tool that exists there, or will exist, called, DIDE LINK. The link
into our internet is possible using fields that take advantage of
distance, and can thereby tune back through time. These same fields
can be energized with reverse-polarity atoms, but we will not go
here. Those that have any idea about any of this, know also about the
invention in 1987 that was openly published in the SCIENTIFIC
AMERICAN MAGAZINE. This was the article that showed how a MOVER was
back in 1987, with his small velocitronic motor system. Using this, a
room the size of the average home kitchen, can be made up of a unit
that could produce close to 100 TW of electricity. This is a
forbidden subject, and only collectors of magazines can ever get to
check this out, so it is doubtful to me, that you will find this
fucking information anyplace on the entire internet.
There
have been two major recent incidents, in Saint Lucie County, Florida,
USAESMWG; over at the www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/
job-site, where I am employed; through the AARP system, as a Store
Stocker. Sheriffs and police and even a US Marshall showed up on the
most recent incident. The MOVERS, as I have told my BLOGAUD on many
blogs earlier this year in the spring time, played a very rotten game
with me, and brought the state WORKFORCE PROGRAM into our HFOC place.
These peeps are not, how does one say such a thing in 2011, someone
who might get along all that well on Peninsula Drive, in Babylon, New
York. I am speaking of nothing other than character and behavior, and
in no way nationality or skin hues. Still, am I making this story up,
is this another fish-tale of the Mountainpen? All anyone has to do to
disprove me is to get copies of public information of local criminal
reports, this would most likely be listed under the charge of
assault. I believe both incidents involved one girl beating up
another girl. Yes Paul, Fort Pierce is not all that nice a place for
me to be living and working in, and especially, after making my
escape from 'THAT-FAMILY', and my kidnapping by Dawn-Marie, the great
KING of the JERSEY CLAN, well, along with distant cuzz
MCGUIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Both Dawn and McGuire would
think nothing of throwing a can of gasoline on someone, and then
throw a lit book of matches on them afterward. Do I really deserve
all of this? Just tell me what I've ever done to anyone; to mother
fucking deserve all this fucking hell, and on top of that; I have
lost every mother fucking thing I had. I may not have had a lot, but
it all was taken away from me, when no one would help me and I was
forced to mother fucking run away on the night of December the 12th,
in 2009. So if any fucking bastards out here that tells me how real
the biblical reap and sow deal is, needs to be told not to ever
fucking push this shit on me. I have spent my entire ass life, trying
to be a nice guy, and for my trouble, this is my life, all this shit.
An extremely ass small compressed bit of this, is told on these
blogs of more than six fucking years, at the first and original
website of www.blogger.com/,
type in, 'the blogs of mountainpen'.
As
for proving the supernatural claims of these 6+ years of wild and
outlandishly esoteric blog texts, wait for the great U-TUBE post on
my account, eventually, of my first 1997 passport photo, then my next
one in 2007, and then my 2009 photo from the Harvest Foods website.
It doesn't match, and not even Donald Trump, or Tyra Banks; has
access to enough make up to pull this mother fucking shit all off,
and I totally know it, and am ready to expose this nightmare PAULA
KING SHIT TO THE ENTIRE POPULATION OF THIS PLANET. I sound angry as
if there is an agenda, or that this is personal; and you all have me
all wrong. I need to prove shit that cannot be proven in any other
way or by any other method than major shock value, so I'll use it. It
is not personal against anyone. I have said it before and will
obviously say it a lot more, I am in a war that I have no memory of
ever starting, and I only know one thing for sure, and that is that
if I do not fight these whatever they are entities, then on that day
that I cave in and quit, I AM DEAD. Both my mother and David Roth
stopped fighting CALLIOTAMM, and they DIED, and this is WHY THEY
FUCKING DIED!!!!!!!!!!!! You quit fighting, or breathing, and you
will die, simple truth, simple physics, with or without television
advertising, or any bodies resting or moving, YO!!!!!!!!!!
Before
I let the details out on a huge deal involving the great SARAH-STACEY
JEHOVAH KRASSLE, let me finish up with the second part of these two
dates that were exactly freaking ten years apart in the illusion of
space-time. A waitress in Egg Harbor told me that somebody wants to
kill me, and would not be any more specific than that, other than my
1994-Saturn Automobile was involved. I originally believed this wild
cock and bull story that someone in the projects of this area was
angry at someone who ratted out the local top drug dealer, and this
person drove the same dark colored and 4-door Saturn that I drove,
and that this somehow was perhaps as the great disco diva would put
it, a case of 'MISTAKEN IDENTITY'. I did not buy Donna's bull shit,
and I don't buy this Egg Harbor shit either, as it all ties together,
and connects characters from what else, but the great SATANIC
ENTERTAINMENT WORLD, or (EW)!!!!!!!! Continuing along with the events
of the hot summer day in early August in 1996, this is when my mother
and I drove west into Hammonton, and were accosted by a gang of young
Mexican-American girls, at a recording studio parking lot, that would
not stop messing with me, and would not let my car out, as they
blocked the way and thought it was funny; and then when we did
finally exit, we drove to Turnersville, and began noticing that
somebody in a lime green truck was tailing us, and this was that evil
monster huge man who looked like he was from India according to my
mother, as I never saw his face; and he told my mother and I quote,
“I am going to kill your son, and you too, if you don't get away
from this truck”. My mom went over to it, only because we both
noticed that it had indeed been stalking and tailing us, and parked
when we did; and was staring over at us. He had killed our new car
somehow, as when I shut it off, and then tried restarting the
vehicle; it was totally dead, AND FOR NO GOOD LOGICAL REASON
WHATSOEVER. The police came and were no help at all, intentionally
writing the police report backwards, stating that it was I, who
approached the man in this truck; and not the other way around. There
was a very good reason for doing this, and they were all fucking
totally in on it. Even the Prosecutor of two counties refused to
assist us, and left us hanging out to dry, after this terrorist
threat was made to her. Those 'raised right black boys, huh Mercedes
not said from 10-SC Avenue', Senator Thompson??????????????????????
Let us get some tiny positive out of this miserable mother fucking
nightmare day of monster-ass interactions from peeps straight out of
DOGTOWN, whoever they are. I CALL THEM MOVERS, and also the
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL; and still many other initials that match, are
part of a lot of this, and dates do not lie, because it is too
freaking coincidental; and we all know it, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I do not blame the great PAULA for everything in my life, only for
about 99% give or take a little. If anyone on this planet does not
like this, well, bite me. As I said this, I got the tiny mini font
attack, that I got a lot in the short time, right before my
horrendous “2008” “family-kidnapping” experience. We will
stop for right now regarding these two dates, and totally FISH-TALE
seemingly unfathomable story of the MAGICAL NON-COINCIDENTAL WAY TOO
PERFECTLY TIMED DOUBLE-DATES, OF 08/02/86----08/02/96. This is a real
mind bending situation, for me anyway. I had to fucking live through
all this fucking ass hell. You all have the nice luxury of being
entertained with this tale, and all though I know it is true, and all
of the ASTRAL-PLANE GODS know that it is true; you are all saying,
and I will quote it, “OH, HMMMMM, that story telling Mountainpen,
WOW”.
I
was not supposed to tell about this. SSJK said not to, oh boy. Before
I get into it, FIRE ALARMS GO OFF IN THIS BUILDING every single day,
sometimes only for a minute and then stop; so I know that there is
more to this bullshit than I currently have information about.
Anything these twisted fucking bastards from HELL can do to me to
make that dirt bag *(STOCK MARKET)* endlessly go UP AND UP AND UP AND
UP AND UP; THEY WILL QUITE OBVIOUSLY KEEP DOING, AS THIS ALL BEGAN
ON 08/15/1986!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It never ever stops, am I
correct, AGENT FALCON, AND AGENT CONDOR, YO?????????????????????? Now
before Madonna closes my glandular funny funny curtains, 28 years
ago, lymph nodes and MOVERS and copyright tapes all notwithstanding;
let me address a powerful deal that I know I did in fact tell and
blog back around 2006 and 2007; about a dude by the name of Marty
Kravitz. I thought this man wanted to cause me trouble for no good
reason, and now, I see the great Paula King, as the player behind
this one as well, STANLEY; and am I
steamed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One day after I told him I
would not be working in his meat market any longer, so that I could
work as a Plumbers' Assistant for Tom Reale, in the summer time in
1970, he started a rumor, that I had lost my mind, and was freaking
out, and he made up all kinds of wild stuff, and for no apparent
reason; after all; he could very easily replace me with any one of a
hundred other boys at his market, that could do the job as well as I
could. I was told this on the very same day that I was told that I
was not imagining the student teacher by the name of Miss Zenkiss, in
Haddonfield, New Jersey, USAESMWG, at the Bancroft School on Kings
Highway, named after the great King George Himself of England, who my
ancestors went to war with. Strange things were indeed happening to
me in 1970, it was quite continuous and perhaps almost unrelenting.
The year opened up after all, with the great soap show of New York,
Channel-7-ABC Network, called “DARK SHADOWS”, with their
LEVIATHAN CULT, and Paul Stoddard, and the great PAYMENT DUE date, my
birthday. The big story can be saved for another blog, it is late and
I need to eat and crash; so let me merely tell the highlights. Maybe
I did lose my mind, and do all the things that this old boss said
that I did; that old Marty Kravitz, of Westmont, New Jersey. I have
no memory of it, but I have little memory of other things also, and
in some cases, none at all. I did not recall the 1968 trip up to
visit my Aunt Ruth in Babylon, Long Island, New York; until right
around the time that I wrote the blog titled, “Y SHOULDN'T A DOG
LIVE IN A DOGHOUSE”, in February of 2009, and yes, on KARGE-DAY,
the good old 18th. There is no chance that any of this is a
coincidence. If it is and I am wrong, then I beg either my daughter,
or the other person; to tell me that this is so, as otherwise; why go
on sending me so many mixed signals? Still, Paula King may have
blocked out of my mind, some of the mother fucking bullshit, that
indeed Marty the butcher, claims that I did, back in the latter days
of the year of 1970. How do I know my mom did not find out about the
reason why a world famous song was playing called, “UNDER THE
BOARDWALK”, and tell me, and then we all went crazy, and ALONG CAME
CLUELESS PAULA, NOT MISSING ME, oh no copyrighted little yellow
sheets of 2008 paper; but just her powerful IAD-ETTOS MIND CONTROL
tactics, and paranormal somnambulist abilities, of hyper-dimensional
travel, power, and ultimate control?
Well
right now, I do not know who thanks me, or does not thank me; be it
my mother or my father, or anyone else, or theirs, for that matter,
Mister Cohen; or any other Hollywood, Cali resident for that matter.
I tell true stuff. I have no reason to sit here in the middle of the
night, spewing out a million lies, or deluded ideas. I know the power
of playing with the 5th dimension, as well as the power
that Paula has, and uses. I was there when I lost my BOB, and my
'CHAIN'; and now I am here in hot miserable Florida, with nothing
left. All was lost, and these pricks sit up there in the north,
laughing at me. Well, one of these mother fucking days, I will get my
laugh on mother fucking all of you.
SSJK
told me not to tell how we were together in HER GREAT CITY, back on
Monday in the human world, or said better, when SHE allowed me to
begin the Monday Dream, with some memories from the Astral-Plane,
regarding this event or interaction is a better term, that I will now
impart to this world. She was singing 'Love Is For Carpenters', HER
greatest song, to me, while we were in the great Celestial Palace of
Kanwal Avenue, in SDK, in the Province of Olympia; and SHE told me,
that she would allow me to take the memory of the true melody, back
with me; into the waking and mortal world. When she did, I awoke with
this memory, and was late for work, as I needed to play it into my
keyboard memory, as I sure do not trust my memory all that much. I
have been playing this all week long, using headphones. Now of
course, since this transdimensional tune, has been electronically
stored into a memory system; it has similar results, as if it were
recorded onto studio systems, and tapes or CD's were made. Sorry
about any inconvenience that this may have caused the mortal world,
or am I? Why should I be sorry for enemies. Why should I care or do
any favors for them either, Quentin Petofi Collins, of the autumn in
1969????????????????????????????
Sorry
I failed the test Sarah-Stacey, and told the Marty stuff; but you all
ready knew that I would when you told me. In fact to quote your
wonderful mother, Jewelly; your top VIQUEEN on the AP; you guys all
knew this for 50 million years. WOW, what a wild clan of awesome and
suigenerous proportions.
TERMINATION
OF TRANSMISSION:
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