GO WASH YOUR HANDS, CHAPTER 14

GO WASH YOUR HANDS

CHAPTER 14

5 PAST ELEVEN AM

12 NIVEMBER, 2013, TUESDAY

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

A lot of covert fucking siege is all around me. Strange voices and banging doors earlier in my hallway beyond the apartment door. Strange phone calls, waking up cramped and queasy and poisoned, and lots more. The computer was very difficult to operate earlier while trying to do the previous blog, Chapter-13. Another loud telephone squealing sound also was made against my civil rights at just past ten this morning, and right here is more than enough shit within a very short span of fucking time for me to know that this is going to be most likely another day of fucking horror for me, dear fucking world of uncaring souls, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It will be quite fascinating to see how the rest of the day plays out. First off, my installation with Comcast is scheduled for this middle afternoon, and every time anyone is scheduled to come over for any utility related event, I always wake up made ill from the fucking enemy forced that I have named the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE. Today is no exception, Bob McDowell, FCC, Steve Caruso, FBI, World Court at the Hague, and others.

Once I talk to my professor friend during the Christmas Break at the local IRC College, hopefully, we can do something as a partnership to get my GAWNUM APP made, and promoted and sold at web-software application stores. As I speak my upstairs dick heads are kicking in suddenly with their weird noises that from time to time are also quite annoying.

I will keep yo posted, my Morians and Everyonelsians, as the cock keeps ticking by. Let me add here, that someone from Illinois is calling me for several weeks now leaving me a very quick and unintelligible message that almost sounds like the word 'yip' all quick and garbled. It comes from the phone number of (224) 387-5684. Also, I have faced the fact that these fucking people are never ever going to leave me alone, no matter what I do do or what I don't do, this is an illusion that I seem to buy into, from time to time; that I can lessen their wrath by stopping, or doing something; that I feel would appease their sick minds and illegal acts of wrath but as I said; it is not an accurate reality, and is merely me being swept into another one of OTAMM's great parlor trick fucking illusions. (Organized Trash Against Mark Mohr) = OTAMM. This is also found in 1988 on the US © Office, musical project done by me, called the 'Epitome of Harassment' tapes, in Washington, DC-13-600. Nothing ever changes or seems to be able to move along for me, oh well, I should hook up with L&O's Marguerite Sampson, as we seem to make quite a pair. Strike that the more I think about this however, as one pissed off female teenager, is enough for me, right Lenny Briscoe. WOW Mister Macy. Speaking of him and parades, let me float this little idea by you all. All this shit since late August can be what I stated, and then again, it can be something else and very old. I have been living with it for three decades now. It is called the starting of the annual clockwork Thanx-2-Givens Siege, AKA Thanksgiving Siege. When I say the word 'clockwork', I mean that it strikes out of the blue every single year, and is a nightmare horrendous civil rights violating hellish fucking time for me. But it is not a clockwork perfection by any means as to a year to year precise time of beginning, lasting, or ending on specific calendar dates. Many old blogs from my first two years blogging my story onto the internet do indeed discuss this topic and get into it quite a bit specifically with lots of elucidated detail. I don't feel like drudging up unpleasant fucking bull shit right now on this blog, today good folks. I'll keep on reporting and recording.

 

E.T.