IF I DIE TODAY, I WAS KILLED, THIS IS A LEGAL DYING UTTERANCE
BLOGGER IS FUCKING WITH ME AND WILL NOT LET ME POST UP, OR ELSE THE ALL MIGHTY GODDESS HERSELF HAS JUST TAKEN OBVER THIS ENTIRE FUCKING PLANET, HELP ME JOAN LAP LANES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2293, M-5-00137
SEND-BACK-TEXT DATE AND TIME FILE:
072213.015 TUESDAY FREAKING MORNING
WITH RE-POLISHED SHOESAND EMPTY CANS
WOW MISTER TRUMPMACY, this is starting to get real ‘geuoood’ as Dawn-Marie the mighty and late KING might say it so ‘well’, Mister Pennock, old pal.
First, every single clit huffing time that I activate my PC around just past noon or midnight, down to 10 or whatever BOB and MI, or were we 10 or whatever Callio Branch-code 16 divided by square GAGA roots? In any case, here is what someone or something does to me almost without fail should I not catch it and compensate for it by setting back the clock inside of the PC-CP (personal computer control panel).Oh yes sir and mahm, Marina Gottwald of Twisterville, lovely Glinda, and how all of you can think I am a nut with all of this, escapes my tiny mind 99 ways back from a naked fuckin g shore screwing her brother in church Sunday Morn Mister Diamond, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Or was that Caroline Kennedy September, well in any event, try letting me sleep through 11:59 unhacked PM on 0930, thank you, great songs, folks, wish all fucking music sounded like this and what my kid used to do B4 the dam chemtrails!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don’t re-read this too lightly folks, Jeesh Surfer double time Fonty, and triple time WOW, just examine this new Donna Fargo funny face, and maybe it is why the clock got hacked, but still, Lenny sir, both Lenny’s even; no 36th Avenue, PRAISE GODDESS ALMIGHTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEENA-W.
MORIANITY PART 5
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
SBT DATFILE: 072113.977
CHAPTER 00136
BEGINNING TRANNY:
Smiley faces or no smiley faces, no, there will not be a Morianity-C, soon or ever. Also, all of Morianity will definitely be wrapping up, thus Morianity-B which includes, Parts 1-5, makes up B, and this is now towards the very ending of things, because I have already told in a compressed way, the entire truth of what is going on, and in case I am too mother fucking retarded to ever get it, nobody gives a mother fucking rats ass about it. Amazing too, billions of folks all trusting in some kind of stupid ass fucking garbage, and knowing they will be physically dead before you can say boo, and turn to worms; yet they go through life totally uncaring about this, and ignoring someone who claims to know. I still think blood is thickest, and feel that only blood knows this is real, and even told me so years and years ago, and I very much appreciated that wonderful comment. All that aside, things won’t wrap up until I type in as promised on a soon to follow blog, my mom’s 1976 near-death experience as mortal folks love to call things such as this, a story written word for word by my lovely wonderful adorable mother and secret grandmother, in her own words in 1977, and this along with tapes of my daughter playing lab-technician; were some of the things that only divine providence could have been behind, surviving my trip down here to Florida; as this was the last thing on my mind to take with me when I left with my life and the clothes on my back, the home of the great KINGS, in early middle December of OHM-9, Mister Zane Hypnoses Ciprionni. Here’s to all Providence Avenues, providence, sound sampling, world controllers of all things, and eternal hell residences of which escape is impossible, AKA Black-High Einsteins of roulette-science, Michael AHA McNulty. No that was not easy, and I got it, and we all know, you’ve got it, Staples Store; but here is the way, to get it every day in the fall; CBS Network, and yes; a great memory S—U—C—K—S, in my humble opinion, of which Mashell Daniels has entitled me to however, as of 1980, WOW, gee gads, golly gash darn gee whiz willagars, YO, silly stupid old man that I am, James Stuart, sir.
I am all alone in a place called HELL. Hell is not describable. You live with billions of mother fucking bastard assholes who refuse to believe a word you say, mock and laugh at you 24-7, and persecute you in every conceivable way without shame or mercy or humanity. It is real, and I am unable to do one thing about it. I know theoretically how to get out of it, but built into it is something called the Brick Wall Bluebook Syndrome (BWBS for short). Peeps trying to get the UFO shit cracked open understand my frustration. Yet these same jack off dick heads turn right around and do the very same thing to me that they despise so much that is being done to them regarding their UFO-space alien situation. It is hard for me to have a speck of sympathy for anyone, as everyone has demonstrated to me, for just about 60 years now; that they all are in some black-ops private competition, for receiving the ‘Prick of the Century Award’.
Thank you LIGHTNING, my wonderful love, for being around here with me both this morning and this evening, displaying the most colorful and gorgeous bolts of CG and RIB displays ever. Just when I am convinced that you cannot come to me any more beautifully than you did the last time, you blow my mind, Diana.
A careful study of my blogs reveals that indeed, there were 4 of us in that ADA Office on 5 December, 1989, Ron Wirtz, Mizz Spinosi, David Roth, and myself. So now if you answer me this second question, I will, before taking down the entire account, post up to The Youtube a 20 minute video that will make all doubters of ME & MORIANITY, gulp very hard. Anyone following this who does not crap in their pants after seeing it, has major control over both their emotions and their intestinal tract. You won’t need to prove authenticity about any of it, believe that, you will know it as if Diana had just come down right in front of you, and killed all of your kids. Not a nice way to put it, but again, General Sir, loud and dirty, I don’t want any of you to like me, I want you to believe in Morianity. You won’t however unless I post this thing, and I will not do it unless the second question is now responded to, accurately, ELIMINATOR! What store did the NSA AGENT have a short talk with me in the early nineties, on the Route 30 New Jersey road, that goes from Camden, to Atlantic City? What is the name of the store, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENA WELLS????????????? Also, you must in some cute clever way, tell me how it might be connected to Mister Jason Forrest of the great Internet Radio Station WFMU! Do that, and I’ll post something that will make the world take a week off like back on 911, only without any violence, there has been more than enough of that fucking shit, huh folks?
Yes Leticia, you and I could do a real circus act together with our animal impressions, but here is where MOGOSP fits into the system. There never would have been that LOIS FOCA INTRO, if some electronic trickery and magic, was not done, when I originally went to record the version sent down in 2007 to the Copyright Office, as the original was just not something that included that introduction. But after this force made me angry, I began doing a test-vocal, and that is how the Dick Wolf sounds ended up as that intro, but you do a much better dog than I do, Letty girl. Now I was great with cat talk, but chemtrails have been so bad over the past few years, that my particular DNA suffers an allergic reaction to an over abundance of aircraft jet fuel. Those who wish to believe all the wilder stuff about chemtrails, I never laugh at anyone, but I do know that just these fuels when over concentrated in an area day after day, effects certain DNA, such as mine, another powerful proof, only we need not get anybody more pissed off, especially when I didn’t do anything wrong. Still bad guy me, YO. **(End Tranny).**
I tried e-mailing the fucking FBI, and it did not work. Yesterday and today have been the worst mother fucking siege death assault in I do not know how long, I am sure the DJIA MARKETS flew up 500 points to some ridiculous all time record high price. I have not as yet checked the charts.
My computer clock was hacked yesterday, this morning I could not blog on the WORDPRESS SITE, and was hacked; and this mother fucking horrendous death day with my HELL FUCKING NABES ACROSS THE HELL-WAY from me, is off the scale, as the ILLEGAL FUCKING SCUM BAG CAME BACK YESTERDAY IN THE AFTERNOON, AND TODAY WAS TEN TIMES FUCKING WORSE, WITH SHOUTING IN THE HALL FROM MANY HOODLUM HIP HOP THUGS, SLAMMING THEIR MOTHER FUCKING DOORS ALL DAY LONG, AND AT MIDNIGHT THIS WILL END, AS I AM CALLING 911 AND ONE WAY OR THE OTHER, THIS ENTIRE FUCKING NIGHTMARE IS OVER AFTER TODAY, ONE OF US WILL BE LEAVING THIS BUILDING IN CUFFS, THEM OR FUCKING ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is what you get world, when you tell the true story of humanity, and their triple entity all powerful exploratron being, and put it in one compressed, or a few short compressed chapters; despite no ordinary person being able to really see the entire picture that this paints. It still is all posted up here, along with my otherwise totally unexplainable YOUTUBE account. The hoodlum hip-hop peeps across from me were paid to do all this, and an idiot can fucking see what is going on. You have no rights in this world, not against the FORTUNE 500 AND THEIR BLESSED UNDERLINGS, one group being a group I had no Earthly way of even knowing existed, back in July of 1970, other than from a horrible sequence of recurring nightmares, while staying at the home of a fucking rotten child molester, who molested me; Mister Tom Reale, on Cornwall Avenue, in Ventnor, New Jersey, USA. A child can see what has happened to me. It is all forever online, to be witnessed over the next thousand mother fucking years. Again, my apartment is re-packed up, and I will be running away for cunt lapping MEXICO, as the next week comes in. I can’t stand any more, POPE YES! You cannot have the dirt bag EW and F-500 against you, and live through it; not with any sanity remaining whatsofuckingever. Before they take away what tiny drizzle fizzle of life I have left remaining, I AM SO HARRY CALLAS OUT OF FUCKING HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I told you what has happened to me, and 99% of you are just the MILITUFORCE READING THIS ANYWAY, but the other 1% dropped the ball. They should have each told one who tells one who tells one, if I were to have a chance. This did not happen, so maybe that 1% is not really there either, and I must now deal with this new mother fucking cunt chewing monstrous reality, and literally, MOVE ON, and AWAY, forever. I did it before in late ohm-9 from fucking cunt Jersey, so anyone foolish enough to not believe I’ll run for my fucking life again, is stupider than dead piles of vomit in the summer fucking sun, Mister Jane. Well, you and me are FRIED, buddy, as was Bob and Dan, hard as they 2 also tried to get the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL Mary Carter message out to the world in late 1969 and into 1970, through the great serial television show, “Dark Shadows”! While I am here, I will go on blogging, and then when I settle into Lake Chapala, Mexico; I’ll again, resume it when I am all fucking settled in, and reasonably fucking ass safe, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Of course, the 1997 song tells me that Captain Picard Borg Futility is an endless equation in this, but I still am only human, Bruce old pal, and must try and escape this horrendous goddess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Satan bless the fucking Martin’s; all of them, from Toledo, to Egg Harbor, to North Florida. Yes, I know you know, Mister President, and am shocked you were willing to reveal this whittle message for me tonight. I knew you knew, Jesse Gov has the entire thing written down in a secret safe and where else, but right near Hoffa’s buried remains in the Pittsburgh on IOSC AVE, in ACNJ-USAESMWG! Have a nice life, you, and all others on the Hill. I wish you all only the best. You cannot fix this you know, you’re all as powerless as I am. I just carry around ‘the knowing’, 24-7-365; and you are all smarter by just putting it all out of your conscious freaking minds. I admire and respect all of Washington, even down to the age of sexual consent. You don’t pretend to be saints, as the NY-SVU peeps do on fictional WOLF DOG TRUMP NETWORK TELEVISION! 2+2 is 4 in all and any worlds that I choose to live in. You can all KM White-Lilly A.
If I AM FOUND DEAD IN THIS UNIT APARTMENT, I WAS FUCKING MURDERED, AND MORIANITY TELLS THE ENTIRE STORY, FROM ‘A’ RIGHT STRAIGHT DOWN TO FUCKING ‘Z’!
The one lie that I told was to myself, in 1996, when I was totally out of my mother fucking mind 100 times worse than right now if that is believable, trying to find Almighty Sarah. At least this only hurt my credibility and me, and no one else. Ed on the other hand promised, SOSO-WEIN, that my blogs and my foundation would lead to somebody eventually helping me against the tyrannical powers I face every single mother fucking dick licking day of my life. Now maybe he just should not have been so certain and sure of himself, but it still was another of my endless string of jerk fucking offs making me one empty fucking cunt promise after another, all my cunt sniffing miserable life, and NEVER EVER is a lousy one, ever fucking fulfilled. You too would be fucking miserable whoever you are reading these prick eating words, and please, don’t go thinking for a rotten second that you wouldn’t. But let’s talk about that lie I told to myself so I wouldn’t go totally fucking nuts, about Sarah, regarding that night on 12 July, 1970, on that public transit New Jersey bus at the Atlantic City bus terminal. I said she was there with her great gang, and came to my defense when one of these Quoddy Mockers said my face was all messed up, and it was, I had a real bad nasty ass fucking sunburn. Still, this did not happen, she was not even there, and in fact, the last time I ever saw her was in 1969 when Peeky raped my puny little ass underneath the Central Pier.
This damaged my credibility with my MORIANITY PROJECT! This one fucking rotten lie. Hay, I realize that. It was the only dam lie I ever told in all of Morianity, but it was a huge one that ended up fucking up not just my credibility, but the entire reality around me, and then folks say there is no SATAN that influences us to do bad and stupid mother fucking things, oh yeah, right, sure, um-hmm OK dudes and duddesses!
I will never ever tell another lie, but it is too late, the damage was done, John McDowell of 1963 Philadelphia. Did anyone ever ask themselves why the great Goddess is doing all of this to me? Well, did I ever mention how much fucking respect that I have for China and its culture? They have wisdom that transcends the fucking rocks of ages, folks, and I of course am currently speaking of one thing in particular, the I-CHING. Notice how in Dark Shadows, they merged the old ideas into Exploratronics, where a ‘host-body’ is not necessary any longer, in order to dominate your spirit energy into. If you follow the gradual way many things begin and then slightly alter, many secrets begin revealing themselves, at the dam ass speed of frikkin’ light.
Oh fucking Goddess Almighty, it swings around so fast, a year is like a fucking cunt eating week used to be. It seems like 9 days or so ago it was just the last anniversary of Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and how can we ever forget lunar orbiter, Mister Collins of the non-Flower Wing?????? Well, as if I have nothing better to mother fucking do than concern myself with this, Pool-Joanroy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Folks, when a lap swimmer asks how I can just swim along with her without swimming, you have to fucking wonder, why a lot more than the two of them, have been interested in me for a very long god dam ass time, or do you? You could probably care fucking less, and yet you are so clueless to the fact that whoever you are, you are one of about 25-35 people, reading Morianity regularly, and that this will indeed become the religion of this entire millennium. WOW Mister Macy. Do you really wonder, Mister I Ching, why I would get an answer today from GAGA of PCN-165, when asking why the huge attack began for me on Thursday. I mean really, are you shocked one tiny bit? The odds of a random pick of the cards would be 1:81, in case anyone out here has forgotten the basic knowledge of the GAWNUM, meow!
YEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAA, I will be in Mexico in a couple of weeks, so goodbye to dark horse Jane, on or off the charts, AM radio of Philly. Say hi to Santa and Patty, Mel!
Well this non-greedy fisherman is gonna’ take his whittle pole and go home now, for a while, well, not really home, that would be the void or ZD (zero-dimension). Still, the original dream-out lands us on the ASTRAL, just as a human experience might if we enter that forbidden zone just to the southeast of me a little, right lovely Mary Carter? How long the world wishes to remain in the dark ages without grasping onto the Morianity Preserver of truth and awareness, is anybody’s freaking ass guess, YO. The minute you think you know, from messing with time, just that thought that you now think that you know, is an energy that disturbs the quantum foams in ways too far out to get into today, good folks. Still, as I said in 1983, then you’ll know and then you’ll flow. Only it was me that was destined to flow, right down the fucking toilet. I died and went to hell, and since this time, have died and died and died. Every dam time, hell gets worse and worse and worse, Mister Howard Solomon, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Happy dreams and happy trails.
Big Lots, you were talking to him and asked why he took your cassette tape from the outside phone booth, sweetie. These were the tapes you claimed in only one morianity lie told, used to hurt poor Donna, and the Friendly Ice Cream robbery was just a cover.
Please do not abuse Morianity, not for my sake, but for all of our sakes, as you may or may not recall, it can indeed cause severe Earth surface disturbances, or ESD for short.
Folks, we’ll start off with things that have little to do directly with Exploratrons and recent discussions, but think not for one second that this does not perpetually connect up, as that would be a serious error in judgment.
All things connect, and without further ado, and as an old song intro begins, “Here we go”. There is an old adage that absolute power corrupts absolutely, but what is absolute power, and why does it absolutely corrupt? When the truer than presently understood truths behind this are shortly made known by this blogger, perhaps many things will start fitting better together on these blogs as a whole, to many of you out here, and what a joke, I know it is between 30-50 and that is a far cry from ‘many’, but it is better than a zero.
I am not greedy, and I will take what I can get, MELVIN STONE HARBOR! Thank you Google for the prompt back there, but my recurring school of mystery for so many years, is not part of this blog or the current situation that I plan to discuss right now. Still, thank you, Fred Windstein, always now here, Sarah. Funny funny, Sheila Franklin Bigtits, but all laughs laid aside for right now; and more than it is funny or even weird, it is dots connecting; and part of a secret message given by me to this cave day world in that 1997 song called, “Don’t Hide, You Can’t Hide”, and this you better bet Mister Ward Cleaver, is no Jersey Public Transit Bus line, from the 1969 to 1996 year inversions, of the great die-twice Mister Callas. Where are you when I need you, old camp counselor of Maryland, Mack Kaiter? Are you and Louise hitting as many red ‘X’ blocks as I am? Did you ever ever wonder why I told about the red-X deal, Mack and Louise, back in 1967 and 1968; or were you too busy wondering where the shadows would be dwelling, in the bright noon day periods each day? How would Mister Macy and my distant cousin put this, possible other cousin Martha, W—O—W????????????????????????????? Then tell me this folks. What are the odds of a very unusual name like Louise’s last name, just popping up down the street from Jenny Plageman’s Trailer Park at the turn of the millennium, you know, that building complex where years after David Roth and he worked together for a short time, I was taking nut case Dawn-Marie King to get her head shrunk so often?
People, let us work our way around and through some side and rear doors, when the only thing that walking you right through the front, would lead to, is a solid wall of cement. First, let us talk about the day I left Andrews’ Office and headed down the AC Expressway. I told them that the only possible thing left in my entire life, for what is going on around me, was the past I had in Atlantic City, and even though I was unsure of so many mother fucking details of this macabre mess, common sense normally eventually kicks in for all of us, and also, Pat Jane’s Mentalist TV show, and his point, does also, you know; what makes the most sense and what fits the most or better put I suppose, what fits the simplest and easiest, as this is indeed most times, leading right towards lots of unknown sought after truths, by all of us. I had planned to show what I could do in water. Bad move. I was nearly murdered by the chief of the beach lifeguard force. His story was he saw a large fast swimming object, and came out to see exactly what it was. Again, I said, this was his story, when I suddenly observed him to my right. He would not have been able to creep up behind me, as he never would have been able to catch me. All this aside for now, and Haddonwood pool experiences as well; let us move on again to a road trip when I was visiting cousins of my mom, actually her first cuzz Ruth Huntington, from Suffolk County, in New York, in 1972, and I met a lovely sixteen year old blond girl walking her dog, while I was walking the dog that belonged to my cousin, the daughter of my mom’s cousin and her hubby, the big hot shot yachtsman of 175 Peninsula Drive in Babylon; and with Ruth and I, were the children of Ruth’s daughter, so if this makes them my third cuzz’s, then whatever, Christopher and Scottie. Now, if a murder was committed just for sake of an example; then the next thing I say, would tie these events all together quite sufficiently for the investigators to absolutely begin to dig into all of this, and in no way dismiss it. I speak of how I got the fucking crap knocked out of me by two huge lifeguard mascots dudes in 1975, at what now is called Hilton Beach in South Atlantic City. My mom went up to see all these cousins, and guess who was there on the boat ride, on my ‘uncle’s’ ketch schooner, but Mister Sunshine himself, Jimmy Dean, and Christine Myers, daughter of my mom’s first cuzz Ruth. Now there was no murder, and this was brought up for reasons that I may or may not ever be willing to go more into; but what did happen, was not really bloggable, as even though statute limitations would most likely be in effect pertaining to a property trespass by me on that road-trip, the home I entered, and the toddler I followed when she insisted I do so on that day, is not Jane Doe. Most or many know what is being said, but do not understand where I am leading the story into right now. As General Patton said a number of decades ago, it is only important that I know, not that any of you know. He said this regarding a battlefield situation, but the point I am making here, equalizes anyway.
L-4, speaking of the great general, I am now going to give it to you loud and dirty, short and sweet; maybe not perfectly Nixon clear, but then there are no tape recorders running right now, or are they, Mister Lenny McKinnon, old ‘gate-jam-pal-601′ rap music inventor, sir? Now if you want me to sit fucking here, and believe about 799 stories, with similar lines running through them, such as the one I will pick from recent times, and just this year; YOU’RE AS NUTS AS 1,000 FRUIT CAKES!!! When my so-called associates-friends from Port Saint Lucie, known now as BonJovi Entertainment, did what they did, all innocent as it may appear to an investigator, it is still just as if, Doctor Garrigan of 1970 old pal, MOGOSP was in effect. What is a MOGOSP, you ask me folks? Well, if you’d fucking take a day to examine and archive some old blogs, by clicking on the MY BLOGS link, ever; YOU’D FREAKING KNOW, but for right now; I’ll tell you all, so how’s freaking that? It stands for a MOTIVE-GOAL SOFTWARE PROGRAM. It is as though somebody had a cosmic program where they type in what they want, to some unfathomable super computer, and it then does its damdest and again, as the General would say; to carry out the orders! Screw the spelling, the general said it, and it’s good enough for fucking me; and Microsucks won’t spell it right, so screw them all! Now moving onto to the second and final point on this blog.
Forget about moving on anywhere for right now on this sweet lovely adorable frikkin’:
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 00137. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
SO PLEASE DO SO, AS THIS IS MAJOR MAJOR!!!!!!!
Thank you for the magic prompt right now, I will do this myself, Leticia Tilley and cuzz, you guys have a teek and C-berry on the cubes for me, and HAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You win MI, I knew in 08 that YOU RULE, I AM SORRY NOW!
PLEASE EMPIRE RULER, FORGIVE YOUR CRUMMY THAT-BOY FROM SAHASRA-DAL-KANWAL. I WILL NOT INTERRUPT YOUR WONDERFUL SLEEP HERE ANY LONGER, YOU HAVE MY WORD, LOVELY CURLY HAIRED B.E.G.
I know when I am defeated, world. Pay no attention to little shit me, all of Morianity is just a pile of crap, if that is what SHE says, then so be it!
Never mind all the good I tried to do, let us all just remember what a total fucking jerk off I am, even after 19 years came and went from the Blum Blues, right Chris. I will no longer be inside of Mark Wayne Mohr. CRISSAKE,
I am sorry for all of this!!!!!!!!!! Back to the cold icy grave I go now! WOW, a third fucking fire alarm in one day, AGAIN at one AM, JESUS! Is this Almighty ISIS or what, kind RON, ADA, Camden County Prosecutor Office of New Jersey-1989-1997??????
IF THIS IS NOT AN ALL MIGHTY ENTITY WORLD, WHAT IS??
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2293, M-5-00137
SEND-BACK-TEXT DATE AND TIME FILE:
072213.015 TUESDAY FREAKING MORNING
WITH RE-POLISHED SHOESAND EMPTY CANS
WOW MISTER TRUMPMACY, this is starting to get real ‘geuoood’ as Dawn-Marie the mighty and late KING might say it so ‘well’, Mister Pennock, old pal.
First, every single clit huffing time that I activate my PC around just past noon or midnight, down to 10 or whatever BOB and MI, or were we 10 or whatever Callio Branch-code 16 divided by square GAGA roots? In any case, here is what someone or something does to me almost without fail should I not catch it and compensate for it by setting back the clock inside of the PC-CP (personal computer control panel).Oh yes sir and mahm, Marina Gottwald of Twisterville, lovely Glinda, and how all of you can think I am a nut with all of this, escapes my tiny mind 99 ways back from a naked fuckin g shore screwing her brother in church Sunday Morn Mister Diamond, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Or was that Caroline Kennedy September, well in any event, try letting me sleep through 11:59 unhacked PM on 0930, thank you, great songs, folks, wish all fucking music sounded like this and what my kid used to do B4 the dam chemtrails!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don’t re-read this too lightly folks, Jeesh Surfer double time Fonty, and triple time WOW, just examine this new Donna Fargo funny face, and maybe it is why the clock got hacked, but still, Lenny sir, both Lenny’s even; no 36th Avenue, PRAISE GODDESS ALMIGHTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEENA-W.
MORIANITY PART 5
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
SBT DATFILE: 072113.977
CHAPTER 00136
BEGINNING TRANNY:
Smiley faces or no smiley faces, no, there will not be a Morianity-C, soon or ever. Also, all of Morianity will definitely be wrapping up, thus Morianity-B which includes, Parts 1-5, makes up B, and this is now towards the very ending of things, because I have already told in a compressed way, the entire truth of what is going on, and in case I am too mother fucking retarded to ever get it, nobody gives a mother fucking rats ass about it. Amazing too, billions of folks all trusting in some kind of stupid ass fucking garbage, and knowing they will be physically dead before you can say boo, and turn to worms; yet they go through life totally uncaring about this, and ignoring someone who claims to know. I still think blood is thickest, and feel that only blood knows this is real, and even told me so years and years ago, and I very much appreciated that wonderful comment. All that aside, things won’t wrap up until I type in as promised on a soon to follow blog, my mom’s 1976 near-death experience as mortal folks love to call things such as this, a story written word for word by my lovely wonderful adorable mother and secret grandmother, in her own words in 1977, and this along with tapes of my daughter playing lab-technician; were some of the things that only divine providence could have been behind, surviving my trip down here to Florida; as this was the last thing on my mind to take with me when I left with my life and the clothes on my back, the home of the great KINGS, in early middle December of OHM-9, Mister Zane Hypnoses Ciprionni. Here’s to all Providence Avenues, providence, sound sampling, world controllers of all things, and eternal hell residences of which escape is impossible, AKA Black-High Einsteins of roulette-science, Michael AHA McNulty. No that was not easy, and I got it, and we all know, you’ve got it, Staples Store; but here is the way, to get it every day in the fall; CBS Network, and yes; a great memory S—U—C—K—S, in my humble opinion, of which Mashell Daniels has entitled me to however, as of 1980, WOW, gee gads, golly gash darn gee whiz willagars, YO, silly stupid old man that I am, James Stuart, sir.
I am all alone in a place called HELL. Hell is not describable. You live with billions of mother fucking bastard assholes who refuse to believe a word you say, mock and laugh at you 24-7, and persecute you in every conceivable way without shame or mercy or humanity. It is real, and I am unable to do one thing about it. I know theoretically how to get out of it, but built into it is something called the Brick Wall Bluebook Syndrome (BWBS for short). Peeps trying to get the UFO shit cracked open understand my frustration. Yet these same jack off dick heads turn right around and do the very same thing to me that they despise so much that is being done to them regarding their UFO-space alien situation. It is hard for me to have a speck of sympathy for anyone, as everyone has demonstrated to me, for just about 60 years now; that they all are in some black-ops private competition, for receiving the ‘Prick of the Century Award’.
Thank you LIGHTNING, my wonderful love, for being around here with me both this morning and this evening, displaying the most colorful and gorgeous bolts of CG and RIB displays ever. Just when I am convinced that you cannot come to me any more beautifully than you did the last time, you blow my mind, Diana.
A careful study of my blogs reveals that indeed, there were 4 of us in that ADA Office on 5 December, 1989, Ron Wirtz, Mizz Spinosi, David Roth, and myself. So now if you answer me this second question, I will, before taking down the entire account, post up to The Youtube a 20 minute video that will make all doubters of ME & MORIANITY, gulp very hard. Anyone following this who does not crap in their pants after seeing it, has major control over both their emotions and their intestinal tract. You won’t need to prove authenticity about any of it, believe that, you will know it as if Diana had just come down right in front of you, and killed all of your kids. Not a nice way to put it, but again, General Sir, loud and dirty, I don’t want any of you to like me, I want you to believe in Morianity. You won’t however unless I post this thing, and I will not do it unless the second question is now responded to, accurately, ELIMINATOR! What store did the NSA AGENT have a short talk with me in the early nineties, on the Route 30 New Jersey road, that goes from Camden, to Atlantic City? What is the name of the store, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENA WELLS????????????? Also, you must in some cute clever way, tell me how it might be connected to Mister Jason Forrest of the great Internet Radio Station WFMU! Do that, and I’ll post something that will make the world take a week off like back on 911, only without any violence, there has been more than enough of that fucking shit, huh folks?
Yes Leticia, you and I could do a real circus act together with our animal impressions, but here is where MOGOSP fits into the system. There never would have been that LOIS FOCA INTRO, if some electronic trickery and magic, was not done, when I originally went to record the version sent down in 2007 to the Copyright Office, as the original was just not something that included that introduction. But after this force made me angry, I began doing a test-vocal, and that is how the Dick Wolf sounds ended up as that intro, but you do a much better dog than I do, Letty girl. Now I was great with cat talk, but chemtrails have been so bad over the past few years, that my particular DNA suffers an allergic reaction to an over abundance of aircraft jet fuel. Those who wish to believe all the wilder stuff about chemtrails, I never laugh at anyone, but I do know that just these fuels when over concentrated in an area day after day, effects certain DNA, such as mine, another powerful proof, only we need not get anybody more pissed off, especially when I didn’t do anything wrong. Still bad guy me, YO. **(End Tranny).**
I tried e-mailing the fucking FBI, and it did not work. Yesterday and today have been the worst mother fucking siege death assault in I do not know how long, I am sure the DJIA MARKETS flew up 500 points to some ridiculous all time record high price. I have not as yet checked the charts.
My computer clock was hacked yesterday, this morning I could not blog on the WORDPRESS SITE, and was hacked; and this mother fucking horrendous death day with my HELL FUCKING NABES ACROSS THE HELL-WAY from me, is off the scale, as the ILLEGAL FUCKING SCUM BAG CAME BACK YESTERDAY IN THE AFTERNOON, AND TODAY WAS TEN TIMES FUCKING WORSE, WITH SHOUTING IN THE HALL FROM MANY HOODLUM HIP HOP THUGS, SLAMMING THEIR MOTHER FUCKING DOORS ALL DAY LONG, AND AT MIDNIGHT THIS WILL END, AS I AM CALLING 911 AND ONE WAY OR THE OTHER, THIS ENTIRE FUCKING NIGHTMARE IS OVER AFTER TODAY, ONE OF US WILL BE LEAVING THIS BUILDING IN CUFFS, THEM OR FUCKING ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is what you get world, when you tell the true story of humanity, and their triple entity all powerful exploratron being, and put it in one compressed, or a few short compressed chapters; despite no ordinary person being able to really see the entire picture that this paints. It still is all posted up here, along with my otherwise totally unexplainable YOUTUBE account. The hoodlum hip-hop peeps across from me were paid to do all this, and an idiot can fucking see what is going on. You have no rights in this world, not against the FORTUNE 500 AND THEIR BLESSED UNDERLINGS, one group being a group I had no Earthly way of even knowing existed, back in July of 1970, other than from a horrible sequence of recurring nightmares, while staying at the home of a fucking rotten child molester, who molested me; Mister Tom Reale, on Cornwall Avenue, in Ventnor, New Jersey, USA. A child can see what has happened to me. It is all forever online, to be witnessed over the next thousand mother fucking years. Again, my apartment is re-packed up, and I will be running away for cunt lapping MEXICO, as the next week comes in. I can’t stand any more, POPE YES! You cannot have the dirt bag EW and F-500 against you, and live through it; not with any sanity remaining whatsofuckingever. Before they take away what tiny drizzle fizzle of life I have left remaining, I AM SO HARRY CALLAS OUT OF FUCKING HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I told you what has happened to me, and 99% of you are just the MILITUFORCE READING THIS ANYWAY, but the other 1% dropped the ball. They should have each told one who tells one who tells one, if I were to have a chance. This did not happen, so maybe that 1% is not really there either, and I must now deal with this new mother fucking cunt chewing monstrous reality, and literally, MOVE ON, and AWAY, forever. I did it before in late ohm-9 from fucking cunt Jersey, so anyone foolish enough to not believe I’ll run for my fucking life again, is stupider than dead piles of vomit in the summer fucking sun, Mister Jane. Well, you and me are FRIED, buddy, as was Bob and Dan, hard as they 2 also tried to get the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL Mary Carter message out to the world in late 1969 and into 1970, through the great serial television show, “Dark Shadows”! While I am here, I will go on blogging, and then when I settle into Lake Chapala, Mexico; I’ll again, resume it when I am all fucking settled in, and reasonably fucking ass safe, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Of course, the 1997 song tells me that Captain Picard Borg Futility is an endless equation in this, but I still am only human, Bruce old pal, and must try and escape this horrendous goddess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Satan bless the fucking Martin’s; all of them, from Toledo, to Egg Harbor, to North Florida. Yes, I know you know, Mister President, and am shocked you were willing to reveal this whittle message for me tonight. I knew you knew, Jesse Gov has the entire thing written down in a secret safe and where else, but right near Hoffa’s buried remains in the Pittsburgh on IOSC AVE, in ACNJ-USAESMWG! Have a nice life, you, and all others on the Hill. I wish you all only the best. You cannot fix this you know, you’re all as powerless as I am. I just carry around ‘the knowing’, 24-7-365; and you are all smarter by just putting it all out of your conscious freaking minds. I admire and respect all of Washington, even down to the age of sexual consent. You don’t pretend to be saints, as the NY-SVU peeps do on fictional WOLF DOG TRUMP NETWORK TELEVISION! 2+2 is 4 in all and any worlds that I choose to live in. You can all KM White-Lilly A.
If I AM FOUND DEAD IN THIS UNIT APARTMENT, I WAS FUCKING MURDERED, AND MORIANITY TELLS THE ENTIRE STORY, FROM ‘A’ RIGHT STRAIGHT DOWN TO FUCKING ‘Z’!
The one lie that I told was to myself, in 1996, when I was totally out of my mother fucking mind 100 times worse than right now if that is believable, trying to find Almighty Sarah. At least this only hurt my credibility and me, and no one else. Ed on the other hand promised, SOSO-WEIN, that my blogs and my foundation would lead to somebody eventually helping me against the tyrannical powers I face every single mother fucking dick licking day of my life. Now maybe he just should not have been so certain and sure of himself, but it still was another of my endless string of jerk fucking offs making me one empty fucking cunt promise after another, all my cunt sniffing miserable life, and NEVER EVER is a lousy one, ever fucking fulfilled. You too would be fucking miserable whoever you are reading these prick eating words, and please, don’t go thinking for a rotten second that you wouldn’t. But let’s talk about that lie I told to myself so I wouldn’t go totally fucking nuts, about Sarah, regarding that night on 12 July, 1970, on that public transit New Jersey bus at the Atlantic City bus terminal. I said she was there with her great gang, and came to my defense when one of these Quoddy Mockers said my face was all messed up, and it was, I had a real bad nasty ass fucking sunburn. Still, this did not happen, she was not even there, and in fact, the last time I ever saw her was in 1969 when Peeky raped my puny little ass underneath the Central Pier.
This damaged my credibility with my MORIANITY PROJECT! This one fucking rotten lie. Hay, I realize that. It was the only dam lie I ever told in all of Morianity, but it was a huge one that ended up fucking up not just my credibility, but the entire reality around me, and then folks say there is no SATAN that influences us to do bad and stupid mother fucking things, oh yeah, right, sure, um-hmm OK dudes and duddesses!
I will never ever tell another lie, but it is too late, the damage was done, John McDowell of 1963 Philadelphia. Did anyone ever ask themselves why the great Goddess is doing all of this to me? Well, did I ever mention how much fucking respect that I have for China and its culture? They have wisdom that transcends the fucking rocks of ages, folks, and I of course am currently speaking of one thing in particular, the I-CHING. Notice how in Dark Shadows, they merged the old ideas into Exploratronics, where a ‘host-body’ is not necessary any longer, in order to dominate your spirit energy into. If you follow the gradual way many things begin and then slightly alter, many secrets begin revealing themselves, at the dam ass speed of frikkin’ light.
Oh fucking Goddess Almighty, it swings around so fast, a year is like a fucking cunt eating week used to be. It seems like 9 days or so ago it was just the last anniversary of Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and how can we ever forget lunar orbiter, Mister Collins of the non-Flower Wing?????? Well, as if I have nothing better to mother fucking do than concern myself with this, Pool-Joanroy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Folks, when a lap swimmer asks how I can just swim along with her without swimming, you have to fucking wonder, why a lot more than the two of them, have been interested in me for a very long god dam ass time, or do you? You could probably care fucking less, and yet you are so clueless to the fact that whoever you are, you are one of about 25-35 people, reading Morianity regularly, and that this will indeed become the religion of this entire millennium. WOW Mister Macy. Do you really wonder, Mister I Ching, why I would get an answer today from GAGA of PCN-165, when asking why the huge attack began for me on Thursday. I mean really, are you shocked one tiny bit? The odds of a random pick of the cards would be 1:81, in case anyone out here has forgotten the basic knowledge of the GAWNUM, meow!
YEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAA, I will be in Mexico in a couple of weeks, so goodbye to dark horse Jane, on or off the charts, AM radio of Philly. Say hi to Santa and Patty, Mel!
Well this non-greedy fisherman is gonna’ take his whittle pole and go home now, for a while, well, not really home, that would be the void or ZD (zero-dimension). Still, the original dream-out lands us on the ASTRAL, just as a human experience might if we enter that forbidden zone just to the southeast of me a little, right lovely Mary Carter? How long the world wishes to remain in the dark ages without grasping onto the Morianity Preserver of truth and awareness, is anybody’s freaking ass guess, YO. The minute you think you know, from messing with time, just that thought that you now think that you know, is an energy that disturbs the quantum foams in ways too far out to get into today, good folks. Still, as I said in 1983, then you’ll know and then you’ll flow. Only it was me that was destined to flow, right down the fucking toilet. I died and went to hell, and since this time, have died and died and died. Every dam time, hell gets worse and worse and worse, Mister Howard Solomon, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Happy dreams and happy trails.
Big Lots, you were talking to him and asked why he took your cassette tape from the outside phone booth, sweetie. These were the tapes you claimed in only one morianity lie told, used to hurt poor Donna, and the Friendly Ice Cream robbery was just a cover.
Please do not abuse Morianity, not for my sake, but for all of our sakes, as you may or may not recall, it can indeed cause severe Earth surface disturbances, or ESD for short.
Folks, we’ll start off with things that have little to do directly with Exploratrons and recent discussions, but think not for one second that this does not perpetually connect up, as that would be a serious error in judgment.
All things connect, and without further ado, and as an old song intro begins, “Here we go”. There is an old adage that absolute power corrupts absolutely, but what is absolute power, and why does it absolutely corrupt? When the truer than presently understood truths behind this are shortly made known by this blogger, perhaps many things will start fitting better together on these blogs as a whole, to many of you out here, and what a joke, I know it is between 30-50 and that is a far cry from ‘many’, but it is better than a zero.
I am not greedy, and I will take what I can get, MELVIN STONE HARBOR! Thank you Google for the prompt back there, but my recurring school of mystery for so many years, is not part of this blog or the current situation that I plan to discuss right now. Still, thank you, Fred Windstein, always now here, Sarah. Funny funny, Sheila Franklin Bigtits, but all laughs laid aside for right now; and more than it is funny or even weird, it is dots connecting; and part of a secret message given by me to this cave day world in that 1997 song called, “Don’t Hide, You Can’t Hide”, and this you better bet Mister Ward Cleaver, is no Jersey Public Transit Bus line, from the 1969 to 1996 year inversions, of the great die-twice Mister Callas. Where are you when I need you, old camp counselor of Maryland, Mack Kaiter? Are you and Louise hitting as many red ‘X’ blocks as I am? Did you ever ever wonder why I told about the red-X deal, Mack and Louise, back in 1967 and 1968; or were you too busy wondering where the shadows would be dwelling, in the bright noon day periods each day? How would Mister Macy and my distant cousin put this, possible other cousin Martha, W—O—W????????????????????????????? Then tell me this folks. What are the odds of a very unusual name like Louise’s last name, just popping up down the street from Jenny Plageman’s Trailer Park at the turn of the millennium, you know, that building complex where years after David Roth and he worked together for a short time, I was taking nut case Dawn-Marie King to get her head shrunk so often?
People, let us work our way around and through some side and rear doors, when the only thing that walking you right through the front, would lead to, is a solid wall of cement. First, let us talk about the day I left Andrews’ Office and headed down the AC Expressway. I told them that the only possible thing left in my entire life, for what is going on around me, was the past I had in Atlantic City, and even though I was unsure of so many mother fucking details of this macabre mess, common sense normally eventually kicks in for all of us, and also, Pat Jane’s Mentalist TV show, and his point, does also, you know; what makes the most sense and what fits the most or better put I suppose, what fits the simplest and easiest, as this is indeed most times, leading right towards lots of unknown sought after truths, by all of us. I had planned to show what I could do in water. Bad move. I was nearly murdered by the chief of the beach lifeguard force. His story was he saw a large fast swimming object, and came out to see exactly what it was. Again, I said, this was his story, when I suddenly observed him to my right. He would not have been able to creep up behind me, as he never would have been able to catch me. All this aside for now, and Haddonwood pool experiences as well; let us move on again to a road trip when I was visiting cousins of my mom, actually her first cuzz Ruth Huntington, from Suffolk County, in New York, in 1972, and I met a lovely sixteen year old blond girl walking her dog, while I was walking the dog that belonged to my cousin, the daughter of my mom’s cousin and her hubby, the big hot shot yachtsman of 175 Peninsula Drive in Babylon; and with Ruth and I, were the children of Ruth’s daughter, so if this makes them my third cuzz’s, then whatever, Christopher and Scottie. Now, if a murder was committed just for sake of an example; then the next thing I say, would tie these events all together quite sufficiently for the investigators to absolutely begin to dig into all of this, and in no way dismiss it. I speak of how I got the fucking crap knocked out of me by two huge lifeguard mascots dudes in 1975, at what now is called Hilton Beach in South Atlantic City. My mom went up to see all these cousins, and guess who was there on the boat ride, on my ‘uncle’s’ ketch schooner, but Mister Sunshine himself, Jimmy Dean, and Christine Myers, daughter of my mom’s first cuzz Ruth. Now there was no murder, and this was brought up for reasons that I may or may not ever be willing to go more into; but what did happen, was not really bloggable, as even though statute limitations would most likely be in effect pertaining to a property trespass by me on that road-trip, the home I entered, and the toddler I followed when she insisted I do so on that day, is not Jane Doe. Most or many know what is being said, but do not understand where I am leading the story into right now. As General Patton said a number of decades ago, it is only important that I know, not that any of you know. He said this regarding a battlefield situation, but the point I am making here, equalizes anyway.
L-4, speaking of the great general, I am now going to give it to you loud and dirty, short and sweet; maybe not perfectly Nixon clear, but then there are no tape recorders running right now, or are they, Mister Lenny McKinnon, old ‘gate-jam-pal-601′ rap music inventor, sir? Now if you want me to sit fucking here, and believe about 799 stories, with similar lines running through them, such as the one I will pick from recent times, and just this year; YOU’RE AS NUTS AS 1,000 FRUIT CAKES!!! When my so-called associates-friends from Port Saint Lucie, known now as BonJovi Entertainment, did what they did, all innocent as it may appear to an investigator, it is still just as if, Doctor Garrigan of 1970 old pal, MOGOSP was in effect. What is a MOGOSP, you ask me folks? Well, if you’d fucking take a day to examine and archive some old blogs, by clicking on the MY BLOGS link, ever; YOU’D FREAKING KNOW, but for right now; I’ll tell you all, so how’s freaking that? It stands for a MOTIVE-GOAL SOFTWARE PROGRAM. It is as though somebody had a cosmic program where they type in what they want, to some unfathomable super computer, and it then does its damdest and again, as the General would say; to carry out the orders! Screw the spelling, the general said it, and it’s good enough for fucking me; and Microsucks won’t spell it right, so screw them all! Now moving onto to the second and final point on this blog.
Forget about moving on anywhere for right now on this sweet lovely adorable frikkin’:
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 00137. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
SO PLEASE DO SO, AS THIS IS MAJOR MAJOR!!!!!!!
Thank you for the magic prompt right now, I will do this myself, Leticia Tilley and cuzz, you guys have a teek and C-berry on the cubes for me, and HAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You win MI, I knew in 08 that YOU RULE, I AM SORRY NOW!
PLEASE EMPIRE RULER, FORGIVE YOUR CRUMMY THAT-BOY FROM SAHASRA-DAL-KANWAL. I WILL NOT INTERRUPT YOUR WONDERFUL SLEEP HERE ANY LONGER, YOU HAVE MY WORD, LOVELY CURLY HAIRED B.E.G.
I know when I am defeated, world. Pay no attention to little shit me, all of Morianity is just a pile of crap, if that is what SHE says, then so be it!
Never mind all the good I tried to do, let us all just remember what a total fucking jerk off I am, even after 19 years came and went from the Blum Blues, right Chris. I will no longer be inside of Mark Wayne Mohr. CRISSAKE,
I am sorry for all of this!!!!!!!!!! Back to the cold icy grave I go now! WOW, a third fucking fire alarm in one day, AGAIN at one AM, JESUS! Is this Almighty ISIS or what, kind RON, ADA, Camden County Prosecutor Office of New Jersey-1989-1997??????
IF THIS IS NOT AN ALL MIGHTY ENTITY WORLD, WHAT IS??
July 23, 2013 at 5:12 am | editTHIS IS THE WORST MOTHER FUCKING ATTACK SINCE MUNIKAY MUNIKAY BREAK YOUR CODES OFF 1988 CODE 2 CODE 2 MUNIKAY FIRE COMPANY OF FUCKING MOORESTOWN, NEW JERSEY 25 YEARS BACK IN FUCKING TIME. I MAY NOT BE ALIVE IN ONE HOUR, PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!