MORIANITY
PART----V
CHAPTER----CXLI
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2297
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BACK TEXT DATFILE: 072713.889
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
The
hacking update is as follows: Right after I blocked the lower right
of my screen with a little 2X2 inch screen blocker, somewhere
in-between that point and the time I went to post the last blog, they
hacked into the clock time system, and changed it to the opposite
meridian, making it PM when it was AM, and I know of no way of
changing it back other than for setting the fucking hour to maximum,
the good old number Jane Diseaseweeds Miss-Bitch ''11'', and when the
minutes swing around, then I can set it to the correct meridian by
upping the switch in the control panel. They still are hacking, as I
no sooner started this paragraph, when the light bulb shit began, so
again, until it is time for me to post up, I will block this latest
mother fucking major ass annoyance. You know peeps, these cunt
sniffing garbage chewers have nothing better to do with their lives
than to mess with me now for about 30-50 years, and this tells you
and me two huge fucking things about this group I sometimes refer to
as just 'them' and more often, to the name of,
WOMO-MILITUFORCE!!!!!!!!!!!! Also, I am not able to access my
'Weather Bug App', unless I RED-X
Hendershodt out of half a dozen or more continual popping
up error screens that instantly come on, both in the beginning as
well as any time that I click onto the various parts of the APP,
shown in rectangles on the far left side.
Here
I am a total little nobody, yet someone out here with a great deal of
mother fucking twat huffing power, has nothing better to do than to
make my life as miserable as they possibly fucking can, day after Bob
Barker day, week after Bob Barker week, month after Bob Barker month,
year after Bob Barker year, century after Bob Barker century, and
millennium after Bob Barker millennium. I quote this great man, who
used to be the host of the famous great pricing television show,
before the mighty Drew Carey took it over; during a time of many
many many many wild BLUCRAN
alterations, all over the entire universe, or so it seems; to
observant whittle me aniwho, MCMCAAONMC!!! WOW, what a long ass
memory, sheeeeeeeeeeit, and also in this particular case, I know how
to click onto my own blogs, and then click onto the section that says
'MY BLOGS', where all of my old blogs show up; and then like DUH; I
can click and read, but here is what a lot of you bible thumper
arrogant bastards are so totally fucking unaware of, and all I wanna'
do is teach you something, and you wanna' tell me Ima jit bag who's
going to fucking eternal hell. Well, you're fucking half right, as
somewhere somehow, in-between 1982 and 1986, my conscious illusion in
Space Time Mind (STM) 'realized' that I was there, and as I learned
from a very wild mysterious dude back at age nineteen and a fucking
half in the scummer-time of 1974, in where gods-dam else, but
Atlantic City, New Jersey; that all time is one time, and it is only
there in MIND, and once you're here, you've always been here and will
always be here, since in truth you simply exist, and time is not
real, other than to us in a dreaming-hyperspace interaction in five
dimensions, but not on the Astral-Plane or the Void-Infinity where it
all simply JUST IS, AND
EXISTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So let's get to teaching those
who love to just let the spirit lead, and open randomly up to some
place in scripture. Folks, I hate to tell something that All Mighty
Sarah Krassle may not really want you to know, nut here goes, besides
all of the effects of chemtrails, or really JET FUEL. The less
powerful secret is that there is no magic in the bible, that makes
this great manual of life instruction, one bit different from any
other lengthy literary work, in so far as thinking you can say some
prayer to any cosmic force, and have a message perfectly revealed to
you through a random draw, or an opening to a page. Morianity,
Christianity, and 'anyanity', or anything at all; will produce these
exact same results, and in fact good folks; gimme' a break willya
Marge Leo from 1985, this cosmos is begging to communicate with its
lower life self, as us Earthling biological beings, who are all so
deep asleep, in the dreams of fifth dimensional hyperspace. Morianity
has made no bones about this since it began early in 2006, and still
does not. There is no random, everything is non-random, but the
patterns are so complex, it produces an illusion. Just as so many
mirages exist, on hot summer days on blacktop paved roads to strobing
lights of the Shadow Monster Bad-Lighters Club, of the ENY-ENEMY New
Jersey license plate folks, of the last years of the good old
nineteen fucking eighties; in or out of gated
housing communities of the future, guarded by us lowly
security guards, in the case here; the heart attack death strobe of
late 1988, at Raynard Run, of Mount Honda 'don't like it', Laurel.
Where is the Copyright Office going to bat for a person, when you
need them, great wonderful awesome daut???????????? I could begin
with the LOST LOVE thievery, MISTER Lenny McKinnon and work my way
through Mister Brown the coke-head, but there is no need, as we all
know I cannot fight the owners and the MAS of this ugly rotten
planet. That's been tried, and it is a lost mother fucking cause, YO
DOGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I told you the Mayor was 'shady', lovely and
powerful Jennifer, water lifter!
Still,
which MAYOR, at this point, but then, this dovetails and segways
right directly back to our point that holy scripture is no more
magical than any long literary work, in so far as playing a game
called, NO SARAH, not that game on Pearl Harbor Day, W—O—W, but
the game called, I
AM ASKING AND KNOCKING, SO TELL AND OPEN. This game,
unlike the first game that is just between the great All mighty
Teen-queen Goddess of your universe folks, that is private between
just us or was until I shone a huge strobelight on it called the
interconnecting network computer system of Albert Gore and his pals;
aniwho, this one is written clearly about in just about every
American home, you all have copies of game number 2, as shown in red
highlighting and black lettering, Joann.
Yes people, I simply, whether you wish to believe I'm lying to you
'OR NAUT', Miss AT&T Blake from late spring-time-1983; and
whether or not the great hotel and video land owners want to give me
any grief on this subject or NAUT; but yes; I merely took my own
stuff at random, nothing was behind it, and look how it fitted into a
perfect place with the current shit being told and talked about at
current time morianity. I don't just mean this recent chapter
number 220 of Safe Journal. I have been doing this all
year long, in case all of you have been too busy listening to Lady
Gawky at 135 decibels, and rattling your gray matter apart. Morianity
and the real message, is not even begun yet, even though I could have
ended it all after three or four years. If that's not the
quintessential conundrum of philosophical bullshit at C-Squared, what
is?
I
know I am not always right about everything, and who is? Still, as
for this recent BLUCRAN with the
FOLLOW THE FOLLOW on the stock market going totally south, this is
just done by the WORLD OWNERS, to kill my mother fucking credibility.
One thing that won't happen that kills my credibility, IT WON'T GO
DOWN, IT WILL JUST KEEP GOING HIGHER AND HIGHER AND HIGHER AND
HIGHER, and this I TOL YO ALL SO, and still fucking TELL YOU ALL SO,
so mark it down, not market-down, and mark my words, as I told you it
will be 25,000 basis points by the end of the year and 50,000 basis
points by 2015, and this is exactly where the fucking cock sucking
DOW JONES INDUSTRIAL AVERAGES will be, at these times, and YOU WILL
ALL SEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Then go ahead and laugh all you want to at
little nobody shit eating me, good
folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now I cannot make you
believe one thing I say to you, but in my head right now, is SAFE
JOURNAL chapter number 333, and so we are going to click on it and
then cut and paste this into this present blog, or I am really, AHA
AHA AHA, Mister McNulty!
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0333
SUPPLEMENTAL
ENTRY
START
BLOG:
This
is an addition that will be re-posted at www.blogger.com
for now, later hopefully, the entire blog will post for the first
time at wordpress blog site, it seems to be either legitimately down,
or else it is being, or I am being hacked out, either or. Anytime
that I try a post up within 5 minutes of Wall Street's closing hell
fucking bell, I run the risk, how I remember my daughter's freaking
39th birthday, it is all up on the blogs folks, doghouses
and all, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Since this is a
new blog on www.blogger.com/ on
a new URL that is the same as the old one except that it contains the
unbroken letters of 'continues', this blog will post up, followed by
two powerful ones that have a lot to do with my present time
circumstances, as well as things spoken on this blog, so read this
blog and read the two that follow it, carefully, GOOGLE and the
powerful WOMO Fortune-500 all totally know what's mother fucking
going on, they and their Satanic Bohemian Club are all an evil and
integral part of it, after freaking all.
My
dirt bag piece of shit neighbor next door is PERSECUTING AND
HARASSING ME. All day long and every day again. He waits for me to
pass his door when I come home tired from work, and as soon as I get
inside my apartment, BOOM, a million watts of sub-woofers strike my
poor pathetic walls. He started attacking me this morning. I live
with total sick demonic whack jobs, and am looking to get out of here
as soon as possible, and my letter to the Attorney General is now in
the mail, because laws are broken, my lease promises me some degree
of living in my apartment. This death siege on me is unrelenting, it
never stops, and it is worse than any mother fucking thing I have
ever seen in my entire mother fucking cunt eating cock chewing
fucking ass life.
Very
soon, I promise this world one thing. Huge fantastic covered lids
will be blown off of Atlantic City and its multiple gigantic cover
ups and corruptions. Only what has been done to me will be discussed,
I do not care one bit if somebody is not trying to wipe me out.
Speaking of wiping out, until the world is struck with huge
devastating destructive damage via Magnesonic, this will go on and on
without any fucking let up. All it takes is for me to go somewhere in
a parallel universe, come back here, and then electronically recreate
that item. Last April, many of you know that I took a song that was
sung to me in a parallel universe, discussed often in my summer time
of 2008 blogs back in New Jersey; and went to a studio in
PSLFLUSAESMWG, and had it done as close to the way I remembered it
from this powerful 1997 “DREAM”. Dreaming is no more than the
natural exploration of the parallel universes of 5th
dimensional hyperspace. Even though I sampled my own voice and had
the machine sing the song, since the CHEMTRAILS wiped out my singing
voice completely, which in my case is a favor to the world but that's
neither hair nor there, huh DAG; but even with this not being exactly
the way it was in the 'dream', doing it as close to the way it was
done in the dream, and using the world of electronics, since
electrons are 5th dimensional subatomic particles totally
not understood in 2012; I was able to cause a terrible outbreak of
American twisters, plus a lot of other monster ass weather all over
the place. This backed shit off for me enough to get me out of the
hoods of 26th Street, and into the hoods of Lowlifeville
of 7th Avenue. Anyone with no consideration about annoying
their neighbors, is low life, and it has nothing whatsoever to do
with race, color, religion, national origin, gender, age, or any
other categorical possibility. Soon, I may do the unthinkable, and
have Scylla sing the song, 'LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS', digitally of
course and sampled of course; 1980 all over again, right time
traveling great Copyright Office? Well you always wanted to know, MR.
TRUMP; if I could get my kid at age sixteen, and bring her to your
rotten Plaza Casino back in 'oh-nine. With a little increase in
speed, voices go to the ages that they were when we were younger,
because the human larynx slows down from the second we are born all
throughout our lives, and all voices slowly deepen. I do not know if
I want to go that far, but if I do, and post it onto my U-T Account,
the world most likely will go to at least having many many 1980 Mount
Saint Helen reenactments. Don't be too quick to think this is all a
fucking joke folks. Just give Steve Hawking a chance to examine my
words carefully, and then you'll get your socks, shoes, and all the
gold in fort Knox, blown up your ass holes, YO. Later on, I'll tell
huge shit about how to become a major player in the worlds of the
exploratron. For right now, GOOGLE up GAWNUM, GOOGLE up FASCITAR, and
if you are reading this in 2089 or further out via lunar satellite
time delay attachment field systems, tune back into 2007 internet,
and GOOGLE up the www.morianity-foundation.com/
website. Do not look for me any longer where I work at the harvest
folks, it has all been sanitized over since I shot off my mouth.
This
fucking cunt world is really asking for shit, from here all the way
to the Grant avenue exit off of 95, right Jessica, my beautiful boss?
YES
COLAMAN. A MORON INDEED DOES KNOW THE END.
This
is a further addition and insertion at 3:58 in the afternoon, here on
the east mother fucking coast of America; on one of the worst siege
days in many years for fucking ass pathetic me. I cannot post up to
the www.wordpress.com/
website that I blog onto, as I get an 'OOPS' sign, instead of the
normal post pages. We will try later on, as I now will counterstrike
this evil empire in another huge ass fucking way.
++WE'RE
BACK AT JULY 27 AGAIN, AND END TRANNY, GRANNY.++
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