*******MORIANITY PART 7, CHAPTER 0008*******
WELL, I DID ALL I COULD TO TELL THE WORLD A LOT OF THINGS. FOR STARTERS, I TOLD EVERYBODY THAT THE YEAR 2013 WOULD BE SUPER SUPER SUPER SUPER SUPER BULLISH FOR THE STOCK MARKET, AND ALMOST EVERY SINGLE DAY WAS AN ALL TIME RECORD HIGH, JUST AS MY PREDICTIONS FROM A YEAR AGO TOTALLY SAID WOULD ALL FUCKING HAPPEN. THE YEAR ENDED ON TODAY'S TRADING SESSION, A FINAL BRAND NEW ALL TIME HIGH, OR BALL CRIME DEAD-CHORD CRY, FOR ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
FIRE WORKS ARE GOING OFF OUTSIDE LIKE IT IS NEARLY MID FUCKING NIGHT AND IT IS NOT QUITE YET A QUARTER PAST 8, BUT MAYBE THEY ARE LONDONERS WHO FIELD TRAVELED ACROSS THE POND,STILL HAPPY AND IN THE PARTY MOOD FROM 75 MINUTES AGO WHEN IT ALREADY BECAME 2014 OVER THERE IN QUEENSVILLE. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
The final day of a year may appear to many as a strange time to begin things, but this day, begins a small new item that I will be expanding on as more blogs and diary-journals keep coming. This is called, manipulating the effects of electronic metaphysical transdimensionalization, of for short, (MEEMT). Meempt, typed in to office document type programs such as my-open 3.1, and so many others; will give you wavy lines, since I made this abbreviation up quite naturally. Still, type this on your own system for the hell of it, and then right click after the red line error prompt, and voile', one of the possible real-words that Microsoft Corporation suggests for usage is drempt. I never ever accused this world or this human waking life of not being absolutely and totally fucking fascinating, ladies and gentlemen and another thing you all know about me is that I am ultra sensitive to symbolism, John King, John Greek, and Mary's Restaurant Proprietors of the nineteen sixties of Atlantic City, New Jersey, along with all songwriters of Mark Mud Wayne Mohr, and their seemingly endless tales of woe, and sagas. Hay why not GAWNUM's too? Well, I'll tell you why. $$$$$$$$$$$$$, or a lack thereof. If you have millions to promote something, or if you do not, then unless the establishment and power structures really like you and what you stand for and you make a perfect idea in their minds of a willing slave and sheep to all of their agendas, then you will always just be the Jay Pomanelltio of it all, and they will be the ones who TRUMP YOU and WYNN every single times. Yes you may, mike McNulty, and you may spin around like Curly Howard or slap your thighs until they turn beet red, for all I care, old buddy.
DECEMBER 31, 2013,
TUESDAY NIGHT AT 8:07
HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT TEMPERATURE 71 DEGREES FNHT.
BUT IT FEELS 99 DEGREES TO ME, AN OLD JERSEY BOY, AND IT HAS BEEN VERY HUMID AND CLOUDY FOR DAYS HERE; AND THEY PROMISE IT WILL COOL OFF SOMEDAY, AL GORE, HELL; MAYBE YOU WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG THERE, BIG BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I apologize for thinking that Tom from the first floor of my building, was hurting me. I am not saying that he gave me a fair shake, or that something is not wrong; but I over did my long winded ranting on just how monstrous his behavior has been, since nearly the time we met, after Debbie Marotto, my resident manager, had put me onto him, for some computer help. He, played with me, and so did his pals, and he is a total jerk, but he isn't a monster, just someone to avoid and ignore, like 99.9999999 percent of the rest of the fucking cunt eating Earth-Crowd.
I know I am all alone in this miserable fucking hell. Everyone else is some type of real character, and I am interacting within this HELL BOX that mother fucking WORLD LABORATORIES placed me in from 2301. We use a siderial time and not the actual year, but it would work out to around the early summer time of two three oh one, so I use the number. This is when the KING of the BRIGGBASE, did this unspeakable thing to me, and began this SAGA of 4 year old drawing video-games of Sarah Callio and me, really making the day of folks like Mike McNulty, the real Boomers, Sally Starr, not the ones you used to talk about so frequently, and any and all horrendous chases and weird top banking family descendant Publix Grocery Store employees. Is a WOW appropriate around here some place, I wonder or presume, mister Livingston Mandela?
So just Friday morning in Debbie's office, she tells me, that she told them not to help me. She said she did not think it was appropriate for them to know my personal information and that a lot of bad shit with identity theft is going on, and this was her reason, still, by not telling me anything, I am just left to think the whole building hates me and is fucking with me. This was not the case, not that I am loved. The real kicker is that only Professor's Einstein and Kaku and maybe a handful the planet over, understand my blogs and my material, and they are truly smart enough to ignore me and these truths, and just endlessly remain silent while I glow inside this interactive hell for the next infinity and the next, and the next, as this is what I did in the last, and the last, and the last, Gary Stone Moonlooker Organplayer, of the Carol Mason date-book other PBS folks of pre-destined participation in the WLHB AKA the WOLD-LABS HELL-BOX)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hungry anyone, around the ACMUA, or anywhere else for that matter????????????????
Well, is this where I am going to begin this new thing, ladies and gentlemen? Well, I'll whet your appetite, that is all for right now. Go to sleep and while dreaming, your wife has taken the dog for a walk behind the house and he sees a cat and starts to bark very loudly. You half awaken but not entirely. Instead, you are back in dream-land, only now, you are outside, only it is a completely different yard in a place you never have seen before. Your dog is there and is barking at a huge balloon-looking item in the sky right over your yard. It comes lower and lower and suddenly five giant lovely androids with long hair are standing in front of you, and one comes over to you smiling, wearing a cardboard looking number in bold colors you never saw before in your life, but the digits you do recognize, it is number 630. Your dog gets totally quiet and looks over at you and speaks with a voice, ''Hay there, there is six three oh''. Then you suddenly awaken out of sleep to your dog licking your hand as it lays over your bed and is hanging down towards the floor. Your wife had brought the dog in from the walk around the house. Now in a total compressed nutshell, could this already transdimensional experience be repeated, and not only repeated, but altered and added to, by making sounds from one universe blend into sounds from another one? Well I would think that the one person best suited to give us all that answer, would be the role-played wife, in that great 1988 hit movie, ''Field of Dreams'', our one and only sweet little ANNIE Costner Consella, as only she can say it with the perfect freaking fervor and emphasis, to give it just the needed tonality in multiphase interdimensionalized emotion, as she says to Costner regarding selling or not selling the cornfield when they were facing financial ruin and about selling the farm verses keeping it, and I quote her; ''YOU BET YOUR ASS''. If you are wondering why I chose this particular scenario of dream verses waking life around the dreamer, you need not wonder as I will tell you. There are no aliens. There are no life forms or minds out beyond Earth. In fact, there is nothing out beyond Earth. Also, large as it all may appear, it is meaningless because as you go out away from yourself, wherever you are, here on Earth or far from Earth, there is only about 25,000 miles of real time reality around you. Anything out beyond that range is an illusion. You can learn to create a huge UFO invasion and start World War Three, but let me tell you a huge nasty secret, people. What is real is not us, and I am the least real of all, and that is why no one is really out here listening to me, and I am the quintessential victim of my own parlor tricks or perhaps said better, my knowledge of their existence in absolute doubtless mind state. This is why I can propel myself and objects such as that diner rotisserie, and just as Jenny said to me years ago, what does any of it prove? I wish you had been around in the middle nineties to tell that on e to my daughter and her steps and step. In any case, that as they say is that, miss Hicks, give the two whales a pat for me, no puns meant, I love nature and I love animals. You go Sally Starr, you and your no-kill animal shelters in New Jersey, I am behind you all the way, even though you and the rest of the gang all hate me so much.
HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. THE SIXTIES WERE GREAT BUT NOW IT'S TOO LATE. SO DO NOT SIT THERE BROKEN HEARTED, COME AND SHIT, DON'T SAY YOU FARTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well the sixties are gone, like crack and Hall Fawn, and if asked if I care, I'll return a blank stare. Some say I worked hard and then did retire. But in candor and truth, I just died in a fire!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
GINA, GINA, GINA, WHEN WILL THEY GIVE ME MY MOTHER FUCKING PROPS ON THE DOW JONES STOCK MARKET?
I SAID IT WOULD BE UP TO OR NEAR 17000 POINTS BY THE END OF 2013 AND THIS HAS COME TO PASS.
IT WILL BE 20,000 BY MARCH, AND 30,000 BY THE END OF 2014, SO JUST MARK MY MOTHER FUCKING WORDS, AND BE READY TO GIVE ME MY MAJOR HUGE FUCKING PROPS, PEEPS, YO YO YO YO!!!!
ALL I CUNT EATING WANT WORLD, IS MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAM ASS THIS:
MY P---R---O---P---S
MY P---R---O---P---S
MY P---R---O---P---S
PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHY ANYONE THINKS THAT I AM ASKING TOO MUCH HERE!!!!!!!!!
Roseann, I should have shot you in the woods and left both you and all those electronics just rotting away forever. This all cost me more than a throat bite out, and lots of Marcucci stare downs, or daughter stair ups!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU.
ALL IT TAKES IS TO TORTURE ME, AND I AM QUITE POSITIVE, THIS WEEKEND IS BEING DESTROYED, MIZZ PAM BONDI, ILLEGALLY-COVERTLY; BY THIS EVIL FUCKING MILI-2-FORCE, FOR THE SOLE GOAL AND INTENT, OF MAKING THEIR DOW JONES STOCK MARKETS FLY TO ALL TIME RECORD HIGHS, FUCKING AGAIN, ALL NEXT MOTHER FUCKING WEEK!!!!!!!!!!!!
A child can click on the (6-MONTH deal), and see that my problem all began on August mother fucking 28 this year, the day I added some real super artificial talent, to the song called, ''YBCO'' and things never even attempted to look back from that fucking ass point, good folks.
THIS ENTIRE MEGA-MESS IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE, MISTER NORTHSHORE DOUGHERTY GENLOW, SIR. SO WHERE ARE YOU, WHEN I NEED YOU; DETECTIVE GREATCLOTHES FONTANA, SIR??????????????????
DID SOME MOTHER FUCKING JERK OFF JUST HOLLER OUT THE WORD W-----O-----W? JEESE-LOUISE!!!
MARK WAYNE MOHR AND HIS BLOGS FROM JANUARY 2006-PRESENT DAYS:
Original five blogs:
On Blogger since January 2006
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