***7:55
POST MERIDIAN, 25 AUGUST, 2013, SUNDAY***
MORIANITY
PART V, CHAPTER CLXXVI
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WELCOME
TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS.
Anyone
can join, and
the price is FREE.
YOU
WILL LEARN HERE THAT INDEED:
Nothing
is real, NOTHING
is what is REAL.
It
is all smoke and mirrors.
Ladies
and gentlemen, life is not always the way that the great Mister
Smolsky said it was back in 1967, and wrote this into my Haddon
Township High School Yearbook. It often is, but exceptions to the
rules, make the rules just what indeed they are. What he wrote was,
''Mark, remember that life is a mathematical formula, you get back in
return what you put in''. Well, in the case of 99-99.9% of human
beings on this planet, I do not disagree with this great sixties
algebra teacher for one dam second, Admiral kirk. However, for that
always existing and unable to really ever snuff out, despite a
million disagreeing Judge Judy's; point oh oh oh one percent of us
like myself; THIS PRINCIPLE AND FORMULA, AND EVEN BASIC BIBLICAL
SCRIPTURE, DOES NOT WORK, and guess what? THAT
PROVES
SOMETHING TO ME A LOT BIGGER
THAN
ENERGY IS EQUAL TO MASS TIMES THE SPEED OF LIGHT SQUARED,
Mister A.E.
***MORIANITY
PART FIVE***
A
child knows that a lot of stuff can be learned by visiting my Youtube
site, that will remain for now and a little while longer, but not
endlessly. It will all come down when Morianity has completed, and I
alone know that time, as well as all of the other parts of me that
are not me directly. Click below, YO!!
Add to Your Facebook Timeline
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your uploads, Stories and other recent activity on your Facebook
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THANK
YOU BLOGGER.
http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
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My blogs
About me
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Gender
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Male
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Industry
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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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Interests
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Favorite
Movies
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Favorite
Music
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Favorite
Books
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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.
SHARKEY
SAYS, LET'S GET IT ON, LOVELY ROSEANN!!!
Hay
girl, Leticia Tilley, whassup, YO? Tell BOO, next time he goes to my
county lock-up, call 1100, and not me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Be
friendly, YO, give me a holler, Dawn said you liked me.
OK,
good Morians and any and all other folks, let remove into a few other
small things on this blog, then I will post some recent text in time
reverse order to keep the main theme of the past few days, all within
one click into my blog, and not as several broken up blogs, no
photos.
Ever
since this all started getting extra bad for me after august 15,
1986, the Harry Huntington Houdini Potter shit began growing
exponentially worse around me, and never mother trucking looked back
ever since.
These
bastards have done their little magic again on my air conditioning
unit in my apartment, making it work 'speratically'. Mother fucking
WORTHLESS MICROSUCKS SPELL-CHECKER is back to being no fucking help
whatsoever, I know the word in semi quotations is misspelled, but I
tried three different ways, and it will not give me the proper way to
click it in, and the word is real and fits, and I'm gonna' fucking
use it. Fir the third grade graduates, it simply means, it works off
and on, intermittently, oh gee, they spelled that one for me, AHA AHA
AHA, Mike McNulty, sir,
(MMCN)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
for the meat and the heart of this blog:
A
few persons out here have put a tiny fraction of my incredible wild
life together, the rest are either trying to, laughing, or scratching
out their hair to baldness. No one realizes the fullness of things,
that shit did not begin in late OHM-5, with Christopher Bennett, my
Cifaloglio Security Guard coworker, telling me what blogging is, and
that maybe I should learn to be a blogger to tell my story out to the
public. Things when these blogs began, were only in the tiniest most
recent of the time fraction of all my hell, abnd nightmare life, just
dating it back to 1980, and for now this is where I wish to begin
this particular piece of information spewing.
If
I had truly forgotten all about the wild and elusive mysterious and
powerful, beyond hot teenager, of my past times as a boy in Atlantic
City, LOVELY SARAH; then why did I do two things from this year and
over the next three? First, I told Electrician Joe at the McAndrews &
Forbes Licorice Plant, on the Delaware River, down at the end of
Jefferson Street; in Camden, New Jersey; all about her; or all I knew
then, which next to what I know today; would fit on a tiny upper
right corner of a normal sized United States postage freaking stamp.
Then in 1983, why did I write a song called, ''113 more Shiny Big
Moons'', with lyrics that went, ''Long ago and far away, the waters
blue, the skies not gray. The sun was bright, her hair was light, but
that was long ago. Oh I went walking by the sea, when Sarah's broom
came up to me. She didn't want to sweep the sand, instead she wants
to own the land. Well I tried to drown her in the sea, and burn the
water tops with glee, but back she came, against the flame, to carry
out her threats on me. She can do some crazy things, impersonating
queens and kings. But now she lies forever strapped, inside a field
that keeps her trapped. Ralph and Sandy cry the blues, because their
queen of hell must lose. The valve of space and time is gonna' blow
her fuse????????????????????????????? Well, we've explored this over
and over, the reason before any other reason even comes close to
needing to be examined, is and will always be, STM
(SPACE-TIME-MIND)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I do know one thing without
having to get all weird or 'space-cadetty' on you, folks. The 2012
Hurricane Season, named the storms for that group, during the 'R' and
the 'S', alphabetically; Raphael, and Sandy, close enough to this
song's powerful message, and songs are recorded, and to do this, we
all use these magic little invisible HOLY
SPIRITS or ghosts, also known as (AKA)
ELECTRONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then
Hurricane Sandy struck, and for the first time ever, crissake
squared, this incredible storm tore right into the magic area of my
HELL, up north, and did a historic amount of damage, causing havoc
and grief beyond measure. If anyone out here thinks that I derived
the smallest bit of pleasure out of that, you have totally misjudged
me. I knew as soon as I saw this list for named storms, months
earlier than the actual season began, posted on The Weather Channel,
one of my favorite channels on television; that Sandy would not be a
Jane doe storm, but on e to remember for a long freaking time to
come.
Just
as dark matter and dark energy are still far from understood, and all
because they exist as part of a transdimensional lawtronic
circulatory system, that is way too complex, for me to even think of
getting into now. No calculation is ever going to unify or tell one
solid truth that reveals a perfect picture, unless all of the
parallel realities in total hyperspace, are all merged into the mix.
Mind is also totally misunderstood. Dozens of things are, but they
are supposed to be, until about another nine decades passes by, and
them WOW; are things going to change fast around this little old
world of ours. Telling people that parallel universes, sentient
electrons, dreams, hyperspace, and gravitation forces, all mix
together in a wild powerful and awesome way, along with what up until
about the turn of the next century, will be called, ''dreams'', and
then this word will be drastically and dramatically refitted into the
new sociological enlightenment of the educated majority. But let us
quickly before rapping this shit all up, GET ONTO this very topic,
the education process, the educators, and traveler-educators, why
they have this book-code thing in libraries and with other things
that we need not even think to touch on for right now; and so on and
on. In 1983, the ESS wanted to make one person on this EARTH, totally
come to realize that indeed, electrons are transdimensional traveling
pieces or better said, PROBES, of the ALMIGHTY ENERGY that we call
GOD and other names; and that this entity, eventually, attempts to
communicate with the entire cosmos, using one intermediary. Just as
Christianity teaches one savior and mediator between this all mighty
God and the rest of us mortals, for purposes of our salvation from
our negative destructive natures that ultimately will lead to our
doom and our extinction unless the path is altered, but here, this is
an entirely other separate operation, not having to do with the old
fashion religious aspects so much, but in making CONTACT, fully and
totally. All throughout history, a priest or a chief or a shaman or
whatever, is the one who is the intermediate channel between the
cosmos power itself, and the rest of the tribes of people on the
planet, no matter what order or type of civilization we're talking
about, all throughout the recorded history of time. Now, I need to
tell you a story about a realtor friend or ex-friend of mine from
1996-2006, Mrs. Karen Simons, of Grassi Realty, in Somerdale, New
Jersey, just a few blocks west of the house I had purchased from her
office in the end of August in 1996, leaving the Williamstown magic
flint-fields for the third and last time, and screwing me up beyond
repair, most likely. She is the one who went and saw that great movie
in those days, ''Conspiracy Theory'', with Patrick Stuart, Mel
Gibson, and Julia Gorgeous Roberts. She could not wait to call me
when she and hubby got home, and she said in a voice as if she'd just
finished running and winning, the Boston Marathon Race, in safer and
lovelier days of old; ''MARK, you're the freaking taxi driver, you
gotta see this movie''. Well, I'm a lot more than the dam tin foil
hat taxi driver, and I'll never fill the great Mel Gibson's shoes,
but let me tell you a little ditty here about King Nebnooshoo.
At this time in my life, shortly following my insisting on getting a
hypnotherapy session done on myself, and found the clinic of Doctor
Mark Wolf, in Moorestown, New Jersey, right on main Street; but I
still want you all to grasp a point that I know is not that far out
there for you to indeed do so if you push it a little, and keep a
tiny open mind. Here is a licensed New Jersey successful realtor,
years in the game, a married woman with a family of her own, both
professional successful peeps as this world measures success, and
someone who knew me well, nearly a full year before this great
Hollywood movie ever was made and released. She with no prompting
from me, got home from her outing with her husband, Jimmy, and could
not wait to call me on the telephone and say to me, ''MARK, MARK,
YOU'RE THE FREAKING TAXI DRIVER, YOU GODDA' SEE THIS FREAKING SHOW''.
Translation, SHE BELIEVED SOME OF MY STORY AT THIS POINT, AND WHY DID
SHE? Well, it is the very same reason that we have a great 2000 year
old religious faith by the name of Christianity. SHE
WITNESSED A POWERFUL BUNCH OF INDISPUTABLE PROOFS, SHE COULDN'T
FUCKING DENY IT, in other dam ass words, good
folks!!!!!!!!!! We'll do a lot more talking about this, but before I
end this, I want to tell you that before I ended up selling the
home I bought from Grassi Reality, hmm, hmm, Yogi Berra;
gimme a break Margie; she had me looking at some potential homes to
buy and instead of selling the home where I was being tormented in by
the nabes across from me and President of the Frank Sinatra Fan Club,
Mister Michael Asshole Stosny, and one of these homes, was the home
owned by the Camden County Sheriff, Sheriff McLaughlin. This
WAS the
LAKEHOUSE, only I never knew it, in this parallel universe
here where I am typing these words, and have lost both my daughters
forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Just
down at the end of the block there, and the sheriff will confirm this
as the truth, at the time,was the mystical psychic shop known as,
''THE GATHERING PLACE'', where Mister Cannon at age sixteen , thought
it both funny and necessary, to damage my automobile tire rim with
his hammer, while UI was inside of this place. I'll never forget
seeing so much weaponry, and so many very nice looking well pressed
uniforms, all over various closets in his house, yes Sheriff, sir,
you had a very wonderful home there on the lake tributary,only at the
time, I had no idea about transdimensional reality and how much it
was going to effect me right here in this universe where I am typing
these words right freaking now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My blogs in 2009
are filled with the LAKEHOUSE, and many things about it, but it was
not until just this very week, that I successfully put this all
together, that this was really, over here, the Sheriff's place, which
by the way folks, I came quite close to purchasing back in early
1998. Let's leave shit right here for right now, lovely lieutenant
Van Buren, YO!
This
actual blog will not be real ass long, good folks, I promise you, YO!
But it needs to be said. It all fits together in ways most if maybe
none, can really know, but all that is important right now is that I
KNOW why I am doing this, and please just read along, and absorb,
just be my wet sponge for right now, with some tiny bit of an open
mind, thank you. Harry Houdini has a lot more in common with Herbert
Huntington, my distant cuzz, than he ever may have realized but that
as Donna Gaines might have put it when alive, is neither ''hair nor
there''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Later on, things may make sense, but
if not, then it is not supposed to. Forces in the great ESS
(Exploratronic Supermind Society) know what I will be trying to do on
this blog, and ain't all that happy about it. I am getting lots of
bullshit as I try to do this blog. Don't worry, I am not back in
Moorestown in '88, and I am not going to say 'hile' to myself in my
last ''lifetime''! In fact, I won't even say Lyle, I promise, Jerry
Brown and Muscleman Schwarzenegger, and exes from non-Texas.
Now
here is the way this is going to go, and I am actually setting a few
ground rules, just to please the man who kept me from living
underneath a bridge, Mister Eckstein, from Haddonfield special
Education School of Neural Health, the Bancroft, on Hopkins Lane. The
ground rules while you read this short little blog now are to try and
forget that you are even who you are. You are a judge sitting in an
empty room with nothing outside beyond it. As you read, my very
existence depends on what sentence you decide to pass on me when
you're finished. Your authority however on passing a sentence, is not
quite like a judge in a normal waking world court room. I want you to
believe that after you read just what I print now, on this one blog
starting right this second, will have an effect on me greater than
your mind could hope to imagine if you were 1000 Einstein's all put
together. Just play along with me, after all, everyone seems to love
'head-games' so darn much, so let's play, just for now, just for 15
minutes. I will never ask another thing of any of you ever again, I
totally promise. When you pass judgment on what I say, instantly,
picture me flying or maybe falling, into whatever kind of a hellish
abyss imaginable, with no bottom or end to this flying fall. As I
fall it grows darker and darker, and I fall faster, and it gets so
bad I wish I was on fire with oil all over me instead of this. The
only thing that can reverse it is any of you saying, just on what I
say on this one blog, wow, this little fucking prick just might have
some valid points here and there, Jesus Christ Almighty. Now that's
all I'm asking, so let's play.
I
am not going to ask anyone to take time out of their busy schedules
to archive any of my old blogs from early October of 2008, while I
was helplessly kidnapped under Stockholm Syndrome, at 65 Middle Road,
in Hammonton, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG, at that nightmare time, you may
if you wish to of course, but I'll simply for now remind you that I
posted two blogs up to a few blogger sites, Blogger Dot Com being one
of them, on the fifth day in this horrendous tenth month. The second
one early in the afternoon, is going to prove at least to the UFO
COMMUNITY that indeed, there really is an aerial force in the skies
that is in communication with our minds, on all of our levels of
awareness/consciousness. I said ALL OF THEM, and I meant to say it.
The story of how a dream was really a repressed memory does not
matter right now, what matters is that some mother fucker up in the
sky in some kind of powerful air ship, was in direct communication
with me first, while I lay asleep and dreaming to use your idea of
all this, and then instantly upon waking up, I was still, shall I
say, CONNECTED, to this, whatever it was, and is. The exact way it
all happened is 100% as Yogi Berra said it so well and complete quite
a while back. But not only with the perfectly timed attack, and then
another major one as I told the story on my word document that was
then blogged up before leaving for my job at Cifaloglio that
afternoon, but the second I awoke and told Diana through my special
telephone that was only connected up to a lightning ball machine,
where I was and what had happened, in fact all I said was, ''Diana, I
just came out of a powerful wild interaction'', and BOOM, a
helicopter with amazingly powerful sound was just instantaneously
over the roof of the home where I was in bed telling what had
happened to LIGHTNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now today, nearly 5 years
in the future from then, I had some small plane and chemtrail action
while outside on a couple of errands; one being picking up my monthly
meds. But only moments before all this when shit was totally quiet up
in the fucking ass sky, I had told a few things about the great
family, AKA 'TAWF' as I've come to name it over th blogging years; to
three people, in the pharmacy, two I had no way of knowing I would
encounter, and the other one knew I was coming over, and the exact
circumstances are not important to what is being talked about right
now, so they will not be detailed. The point is that I said something
about THEM to PEOPLE, and KABOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
As
other blogs keep on moving my story ahead, I will tie in about a
trillion other similarities; that is not that important for me to do
right now. But I did need to open shit up a little tiny bit, and so I
did. If I ever tried to tell all I wanted to tell, it would take 500
years, and no one would get it anyway, as you would need to be me and
actually experience most of this fucking horse shit nightmare. Still,
I trek on, as what dam ass choice do I have, YO?
Tom
Reale who molested me as a fifteen year old boy, was a lot more than
some ordinary child liking sicko perv. The night he thought PEE
SENIOR got at me on the following year, by his outlandish wild
behavior when I exited that jitney bus that late night on Cornwall
Avenue in Ventnor, New Jersey, proves that if nothing else does.
First off, there is no record criminally whatsoever of this man, and
according to all the television and legal authorities, none of these
sicko pervs just pick one person and do this shit to them one time,
and they don't have the endless luck of the Irish, and never get
caught either, sooner or later, that old wheel spins around and wham,
you're fucking toast, you fagot. Only this never ever happened to
this sick mother fucker, but IS HE just a sick mother fucker, or was
a lot more going on in the scummer time of 1970? Well, did I really
just wake up from a strange dream 38 and a quarter years later, and
could some super loud whirlybird really just suddenly appear over the
house, as if by Harry Houdini Potter Merlin Huntington, at the split
second I said through the phone to lightning, that indeed I just
popped out of this wild ass interaction? Well, you all know what Yogi
Berra and I think, and now; you judge me, and you judge my words;
and you judge my motives. I don't want a fucking thing from my dam
daughter, only her happiness. If she wants to play this absurd game
for what seems like forever with me, fine. Still, there is so much
more going on and this would not be a pencil dot in a galaxy cluster
of all the shit going on all around just this little bit of blogged
crap. Still, it is all I am going to say for now, about this dogshit.
I'll add in one thing more for now. His girlfriend who loved my
''gorgeous hair'' to quote her almost every morning, when I'd run
into them on my way down to the fucking beach; was Victoria Callio,
and the lifeguard right there at the beach closest to Cornwall Avenue
was her nephew Frank Callio. Then there was Mister 'Magic' Allbright
and his telephones; and then there was the nuclear shoes that got me
fired from my job in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, 18 years in the fucking
future. But I did say, I would not go on, so let me be as good as my
word, as if my word is shit, then I too am shit. A man is as good as
his word, Elly Ellen Helen Magic bus stop, on magic days, in middle
July; both in 70 and then 27 years up in the electrical dreaming
future in '97; and holy shit cow, KALI; another 80-08 Harry Callas
inversion of Phillies digits, and WINS; with or without time trips
just a week before the blog mentioned. We all remember that
incredible dream, I HOPE, of my being in the Atlantic City Golden
Nugget Hotel Casino in 1984, and lightning struck the layout circle,
right through number 27, she said to me in that adorable voice in her
daughter personality, that the © Office should have from 1988, but
recorded in 1972 at the fence; ''This is my number little boy, three
to the power of three. I am your lightning''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW,
does it get better than this any freaking place on the entire
interfreakinget, good folks??????????????????????
Then
if the great © examiners ever bother to examine my 1994 book,
''TPB'', they will see how I was technopopping this exact thing into
my sentence-codes, so that she would speak to me messages, in her own
voice from the age of two and a half, and we could talk to each
other, while I live and suffer humanly on this hellish nightmare
Earthly interaction. Hay, think of shit like Giant ass Twinbay would,
back in OH-Marola-8. Keeping this from being a total wash out glass
half empty eternal guy here, AT LEAST I WASN'T FREAKING
TECHNO-POOPING, SHEEEEEEIT Dawn and Dad!!
Ladies
and gentlemen, my loyal Morians, and all Type-3-Exploratron Visitors,
(TTEV), pronounceable as ''TEE-TEV'', how the hell are you doing on
this very lovely day? Lovely that is for those not named Mark Wayne
Mohr, but I'm desperately trying to eek and squeeze by as best I can,
wabbit.
The
Roulette game that I observed being played less than a week ago, at
the home of one of my doppelgangers in more distant hyperspace, has
made me a thousand dollars in a half hour of play. It is a high
bankroll system, and you know me, I believe in using sufficient funds
that decrease the odds of losing exponentially, rather than be
knocked out of a game early and having a definite loss. But I also
believe in a sliding scale of long-run-play-luck to bankroll-level
play ratio. What this means for me, is having four full bankrolls at
home in the shoebox, so to speak; and one of these is used to play.
Depending on the THB or TOTAL-HOME-BANKROLL amount that is available
for playing with, then determines the levels of play. For example,
with this system, there really are only three levels to play on, at
most gaming tables, in the casinos that I have ever played at; that
are in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Nickel, Double Nickel, and Quarter.
This means the value of the chips are either all 5 or 25 dollars, and
on the lowest beginner level, it is the nickel, and one is used. On
the intermediate level, two are used; and on the advanced highest
third level, it is the quarter that is used, and there is no
Double-Quarter, as most tables would not allow the top bet to be
made; only high roller tables where you may not be able to make the
necessary smallest initial lower bets. I will not tell you how this
works, or even if it is an outside or inside layout betting type of
system, merely that there is a base bet at all levels of play, and
then there are three double stages, hence 5-10-20-40, or 10-20-40-80,
or 25-50-100-200. Some already know if they know the rules of betting
amounts in Atlantic City, which system this is, in or out, but we
will not explore this any further. Maybe after I copyright the
system, I will decide to discuss and share it, for the personal use
only of my Morians and readers, bearing in mind, a safe GAME-BANKROLL
(GBR) for this system at its lowest level, is judged by me to be two
grand, which means I believe that 4-GBR should be in the kitty at
home to play on that level, so 4X2000 is a hefty 8,000 dollars. Based
on how your winnings pile up and occasionally dwindle back a bit; you
then as a prudent player, slide up and down with these three levels
of gaming play, in order to not be stuck during unlucky streaks,
playing higher levels and losing more and going broke for your
trouble, as well as allow a player to make more money at times of
flush and luck, playing at these times with more money and higher
levels, thus making more. The way you do over time, should always be
calculated with a double system such as this, built into your actual
gaming system used at the table. So if a minimum of $8,000.00 is
required for a safe and nearly guaranteed ongoing profit, that means
that in order to play the intermediate level, that THB, (your total
funds for just this, roulette and nothing else), doubles to
$16,000.00. To play the advanced highest level, it > doubles once
again to where you need to have a total-home-bankroll of $40,000.00.
Again, you are only playing with 2,000, or 4,000, or 8,000 dollars,
one quarter of your total home bankroll, (THB), that is if you want
to be astute and minimize your chances of blowing out to the absolute
minimum. In gambling, nothing is predictable down to 100%, but
following prudent bankroll systems is always 90% of the power behind
a winner, and only 10% is the actual system being used to attack the
game, and this applies to any game of chance that is offered at a
legally operating casino or betting establishment. Most people will
never have a shoebox with the words ''MY TOTAL HOME BETTING BANKROLL
FOR ROULETTE PLAY'', thus most people will not be able to play this
system, and my printing it up someday will not anger the gaming
establishment owners, 'too much, hopefully'. Oh well, if it does;
they have done stuff to me over the many years that I've been
connected with all of this; that was light years distance, from being
all that nice, and all out for my well being, and contentment. So
''all is fair in love and war, and ROULETTE'', huh Misses Bailey,
TV-mother in law, of lovely scrumptious Donna
Reed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
moving on with updating my MORIANITY
HERE; I have had some great times with my beautiful Lightning Goddess
Diana, at really exotic tall waterfalls, the past several
''sleep-times'', but she does wear me out with all of her hot
passionate wild love making, and I fall away from there into
localized and sometimes more distant hyperspace interactions in
parallel universes, and some you know about as I've blogged them, and
many others, you do not. As more and more localized parallel
universes begin to have events that would be totally within the range
of possibility in your own, the odds begin to increase that you will
take this transdimensional BAGGAGE
back to your universe, where you have a physical body 'asleep
in a bed', waiting to escort the real-YOU throughout waking life and
the following days it may contain. This has not been completely
formulated on the great think tank blackboards, but will be in the
coming century. I have met a very world renown scientist and
physicist in the middle of the next century, in localized hyperspace,
back when I was 'dreaming it was the early nineteen-nineties', You
might put it more like, ''Back in the 1990's, you were dreaming
this'', but you'd be saying it all backward, no matter how you might
insist that I am wrong and or crazy as a loon bird. Aniwho, Flo and
Poolbox; this man had gone way beyond the many known mathematical
formulas of quantum and quasar mechanics, and what is now already
known but not advertised, so as to keep a little more sanity for a
while, amongst the human population, with things concerning what they
come to term and label, ''UPLINE-DOWNLINE UNIVERSE. They know right
now and have it all backed up 100% with total math and no chance for
error, that this entire universe came from less than nothing. Not a
singularity, as that is just the near death experience travel
gateway, the tunnel, the black-white hole connection tube, known
as the slang term that stuck, the ''WORMHOLE''.
But moving this
along folks, before our universe began its dimensional trek through
one of these near-death-experience-tubes (NDET) AKA wormholes, all of
it existed as a small tiny part of the upline universe above and
beyond it, on the other side of one of these traveler tubes as I call
them in my own slang. By our frame of reference, this upline universe
is larger than all of our universe all combined, as it has to be, in
order to fit through the zero dimensional singularity, and shoot
through here as the white-hole it is, from its other upline
black-hole. As I said, right now, all the mathematics absolutely
supports this to be totally accurate and true, but let me tell you
what this guy 140 years from now was able to put on his great
blackboard, that would have made both my father, and his pal Albert
totally salivate over like two drooling babies. He worked out some
powerful ass equations on exactly how all of this upline-downline
energy has a ratio to the void that by its very nature, permits all
singularities to share its sameness, all that's needed in
space-time-mind to be maxed out all the way, AG or Absolute Gravity.
At absolute gravity, a tube springs out from it as though it had been
under pressure of infinite sofa springs tightened to their max, and
then released simultaneously. Space-time-mind (STM) is the sixth
dimension that literally makes the fifth dimensional hyperspace in
its entirety, down below it. This same mind is what in some wild type
of individuality, is one and the same with all intelligence within
the hyperspace, on all levels from one celled creatures to virtually
unlimited advanced intellectual entities. Still, the formula goes
onto prove that above this MIND or STM, is an unfathomable mother
board circuitry of some kind, way too far beyond human thought as of
2013, that literally does the one thing that no one yet has a clue
about, from the greatest religious scholars to the greatest minds in
science with all their degrees plastered wall to wall from coast to
coast and then some more. I speak of what loops the fifth dimension
onto the sixth, the sixth one onto the fifth, and so on and so forth
along these lines, and to make it a lot simpler and understandable,
how about if I put it this way? You have our universe and then before
our 'big-bang' all that was there above it through the other side of
Alice's looking glass, the hole that all this blew out through in
other words, and then above that world, are worm holes all over the
place and above that, more of this, and on and on forever, and in
like manner, we have our worm holes all over our universe that go
onto sprout out virtually unlimited ''daughter-universes'' in this
same fashion, and each one of them, also, downlined below us, doing
this on and on, also forever, yet there is a provable formula that
some ''something'' on the seventh dimension, has sort of programmed
if you will, a maximum total of universes now matter how unfathomable
this total number may be, far beyond a vigintillion to the power of a
vigintillion, yet it has a limit, because as with all things in
cosmos, things begin to carry weight as they move on and out from
center points and thus start to curve down and around, and into the
programmed-sphere, for a total lack of better terms or words here.
This forces the entire system to have a maximum point of total size,
and nothing is outside that size. Did anyone get this at the think
tanks, as I'll repeat, NOTHING is what is outside this size. Lawtrons
are the intelligence of nothingness, and they simply are what they
are, these laws are in-transmutable, and these things are just that,
what they are, putting Dawn King nearly two centuries ahead of her
time, her and all of her friends and peeps and fam. ''It is what it
is'', I'll hear her saying that for the next 900 years, Squire Garth
Trilane. This is the science of how infinity cycles all fold into
each other as well, but the biggest part is that there is one astral
plane where lawtrons dream out of the one and only true
nothingness-VOID onto, and from there dream-down further into fifth
dimensional hyperspace, or all of the unlimited parallel universes of
space-time, or virtually unlimited aniwho. Small parts of these
truths were once scattered throughout my website, now defunct for
lack of funds to keep it operational after early 2009, the Morianity
Foundation, www.morianity-foundation.com/
If you are reading this from a distant TBAC, (terraformed biosphere
asteroid colony) out in distant space, and can tune back to Earth in
the year of 2007 and 2008, there are prompts on the then operational
multichannel SWISS SYSTEM, go to the channel where that internet is
adjustable from March 1, 2007 through March 1, 2009, and slidegear
towards the middle of the band where I know the site is up and
running, and use that link, as now you have managed to get to this
page from doing that.
Many
things will be talked about over the course of the rest of this
summer and into the autumn. For right now, I have not yet left the
apartment for any distant ports in the storm. Also, I screwed up on
some earlier blogs, 1980 was PITSY-1, or so I said, WRONG, it was
PITSY-2. Here is the accurate Port In The Storm Years for me, or the
PITSY-GROUP, if you
will!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1969----------------PITSY-1.
1980----------------PITSY-2.
1994----------------PITSY-3.
2011----------------PITSY-4.
2031----------------PITSY-5.
The
only problem is that this formula that is based on a very accurate
yet simple mathematical sliding scale of future years, from 1969, and
beginning with 1969, whereby up through PITSY-3, all three worked in
a perfect order, leading me to project into a PITSY-4 and 5. I
however neglected to remember the powerful laws in QUANTUM PHYSCIS,
that pertain to electron-observation, a still not fully nor totally
understand concept, as it relates and connects into and throughout
such matters as dark or transdimensional mass and energy. This is why
the great AE only concluded there was SPACE-TIME, and never was abler
to see what exactly brought this thing to be in the ''first
place'', a misnomer by
its very usage of connected words.
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING
MORIANITY PART
5,
SO
PLEASE ENJOY THIS HAS BEEN CHAPTER
NUMBER-00176.
Jupiter,
Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.
THIS
CAMERA SHOT HAS BEEN STUCK HERE FOR A SOLID MONTH, CHANNEL-12.
FOLKS,
I WILL TELL YOU A LOT MORE ABOUT THE EDUCATOR FACTION OF THE
EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND, AND JUST WHAT THEY HAVE BEEN DOING WITH
THINGS LIKE GODS, ALIENS, SAUCERS, PARANORMAL ACTIVITY, AND ALL OF
US, FROM PYRAMIDS TO ANY MIRACLE OR UNEXPLAINED THING THAT ANY OUT
HERE CAN POSSIBLY EVER THINK OF TO ASK ME, BUT NOT TODAY ON THIS
BLOG. THIS IS WHY SARAH KRASSLE INVENTED NEXT DAYS, OR AS GAB MIGHT
PUT IT, NEW DAYS, REAL COOL SHOW! BUT THEN ANYTHING THAT MARIAH CAREY
IS INVOLVED WITH IS BEYOND GREAT. I
KNOW!
Around
close to eleven last night, Diana Arteemis paid me a very special
visit. She was beyond beautiful, beyond hot, and beyond awesome. She
dazzled me with every conceivable color and type of her scrumptious
lightning imaginable, CG (cloud-2-ground), Intracloud, a term not yet
recognized in general non meteorological dictionary systems, and even
a few ribbons. Also, this went on until nearly two this morning,
about three or more hours. I later fell asleep and took my baby-blond
to a beautiful park containing several unfathomably ravishing
waterfalls, as Diana loves waterfalls with a passion. It's literally
like taking your kids to the beach after ten grueling months of books
and school and typical miseries of city or town life for the average
child. They get to the beach, and literally, as the old and not so
Tommy roe polite expression goes; ''go total ape-shit''. We had such
a wonderful time there together, but unfortunately, I have a working
physical body here, and so my experience can only last until the
cycles all play out biologically, and I'm forced to awaken back into
this horror show called, ''my life''.
NOW,
make that BACK TO BACK NIGHTS, folks, WOW,
MISTER
R.H. MACY, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!
L-4,
I also have very shitty nabes. They are not as bad as they were, and
something did obviously happen to quiet them down somewhat, and they
always have been in this pattern of being here for a while and then
not being here for a while, and in a totally unpredictable measure in
time, both with durations and mode switch. Still, when here, though
better than before; they are a fucking royal pain in my asshole,
daddy-dearest. How I will always remember him saying back in 1974,
how everything was always a ''royal pain in the ass'', I think it was
a naval expression back in the days especially when he served as a
Naval Officer, beginning as a seaman in the Merchant Marines.
'Yessir',
lots of doors banged from 10 through recently, and for two days it's
been lots of screaming in the hallways and continual door traffic and
loud annoying bullshit from these inconsiderate low life hip hop
ghetto thugs over there, that did not get here by pure chance!!!!!
Folks,
any one shitty bad thing ongoing with my life, by itself, is nothing
more, at least in most cases; as sort of a, ''oh yeah, you know, that
ain't so bad, and also, gee, don't make a big federal case out of
stuff and see a million coincidence monsters all over the place, and
get all paranoid and psychotic'', kind of deal. Well, that is exactly
why things work as they do. None of these WOMO bastards ever wake up
one day and go, ''Hay, let's give poor shit head tard Mark all the
proof he needs to sue us all for 50 billion bucks and wipe out our
reps and be the overnight sensation he should be, after-all, it is
him who's behind 30-60 percent of every fucking thing going on in the
entertainment world, and even the world in general, since late in the
sixties somewhere. No folks, don't wait for any of this unless you
enjoy sitting and waiting some place for maybe a thousand god dam
years, and then hear, ''Sorry, we're out of business now; get a
calendar''.
Here
is how real stuff does operate and go down, maybe with all of you,
only I feel confident merely to speak for myself. First off, no one
gives away the store, no one makes it easy for the other person, and
when anyone for any reason, wakes up one day with very powerful
disgruntled enemies, life suddenly becomes darker and bleaker than an
amusement park horror house such as the old Dorney Park Devils Cave,
of the early sixties, up in Allentown, Pennsylvania, Billy!!!!!!!!!!
Whoever
in 1983 did their promotions, great as this park is; left me totally
knowing that they all knew me, and my music, and even MY FUTURE, but
don't panic folks, travelers are amongst us and always have been and
will be, and are labeled by me, this author of Morianity, as
TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS. This is so yesterday's newspaper by now, it
sucks wind backwards at light speed cubed.
Now
it is times like these where some of my readers think that this
entire 8 year blog project is just some big work of unknown things
about the great world renown pop diva, we all know and love, Mariah
Carey, AKA MC by all of us loyal and loving fans. Well, a more
careful, and open minded review; would bring the obvious truth to
light; that this is a total
falsehood. I cannot help it if as things progressed
along, many things from actual events and real suppressed memories,
took us where it took us, right straight to her door at the tender
age of toddlers, and much more, this is as Ziggy Malyeska would say
so well at an extremely apropos time in July of 1969, and I'll quote
him, ''That's the way it goes''. When Chris Bennett my coworker
security officer at the Cifaloglio post, back in late OHM-5 and into
OKM-6, suggested I begin something called, ''BLOGGING'', totally
alien to me, the word, the deed, even computers and internet for the
most part; I sort of hesitated a while, mulling things all over in my
mind very carefully, trying to scrutinize minute details and weigh
the old business world 'cost benefit reward, ratio and or analysis.
Eventually, I took myself to the Hammonton, New Jersey Public
Library, and learned how to do some very basic things, and went onto
open up shop and start a small little blog, on the one site used at
the start of all this, www.blogger.com/.
That stupid light bulb hack is back and I blocked it with my little
blocker card that I keep right here at my work station, but it did me
a favor, as I needed to block the time anyway, for a soon to come
Jane Bitchweedsdisease clock attack at eleven minutes past one,
shortly. Now I will not get fucked and see three of those nasty ass
ones. Still, at eleven-eleven this fucking morning, I got struck hard
and fucking fast, by my large digital clock; not thinking clearly,
due to my scum bag shitty roach slob nabes from across the hall-hell.
The joke is on everybody, as I need to make a donation of multiple
servings of Chocolate Pudding, to the WOMO-MILITUFORCE, right about
now, and need to log off and re-start this again after a take care of
that and clean up with a nice bath and shave,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now I am back, and yes, ©
Office and lovely Jeanne, on 'regular time', at 5 minutes shy of two.
Let us look at the airport photo on the WEATHER-BUG
CAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
am not Albert
Einstein!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes,
I did screw up a little bit, I am very very very old, ask INGRID-84,
she knows that indeed, there is a lot of
''BAGGAGE''
''BAGGAGE''
''BAGGAGE''
''BAGGAGE''
''BAGGAGE''
''BAGGAGE''
''BAGGAGE''
''BAGGAGE''
''BAGGAGE''
and
did I forget to say,
''BAGGAGE''????
I'll
take that W---O---W CARD if I may be Gozzwald permitted, Mister Macy.
Thank you!
WOW,
RH. WOW,
RH.
WOW,
RH. WOW,
RH.
WOW,
RH. WOW,
RH.
Yes
Mizz Zebriski had property somewhere either in Saint Thomas or one of
those butt-wiping islands just southeast of where I live as I pen
these words to you all now, electronically.
Yes
Mizz Zebriski had property somewhere either in Saint Thomas or one of
those butt-wiping islands just southeast of where I live as I pen
these words to you all now, electronically.
Yes
Mizz Zebriski had property somewhere either in Saint Thomas
or one of those butt-wiping islands just southeast of
where I live as I pen these words to you all now, electronically.
Yes
Mizz Zebriski had property somewhere either in Saint Thomas or one of
those butt-wiping islands just southeast of where I live as I pen
these words to you all now, electronically.
Helen
Zebriski's dish daughter, Andrea, was a story all in its own right,
that the great high and mighty ATLANTIC CITY LIFEGUARD FORCE HAD MANY
A GREAT LAUGH OVER, I AM SURE, CARLEY NOTVANE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
know when people are laughing at me and teasing me, and have known
this little ignorant Illuminati deal ever since many decades ago ever
went by, only where they went by, don't ask, pweeeze! I do not hold a
copyright on my life and its weirdness nor the total journal of all
that's been done to me by the great LAMBRIGG CULT OF THE ASTRAL
PLANE, known here in waking mortal circles of this physical plane as
numerous cults and groups that may or may not even be aware that they
are all one giant ASTRAL REALITY, dreaming down here and causing me
nightmares, tears, and KALI HAVOC. Soon, I should have my 29th
copyright, and this list should sometime late this year or in 2014,
reflect it, as the title given to it, with the title track being
''You'll Be Crossing Over'', but the actual given project title that
will display as number 29 on my copyrights List Form as shown here,
will be, ''MY YOUTUBE MUSIC''. Funny though, as folks, there is no
more YOUTUBE, not for me. I'm done being Scylla';s fucking puppet for
her dam ass amusement here on this rotten lousy old Earth. If she
wants to use that great right cross me, fine, I am telling it up
front and straight, LUCKY-MOVIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Are you there, R.H. Macy, sir?
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NIGHTY-NIGHT
EVWEEBWUDDY, AND ALL SILWEE WABITS, ALICE!!!
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