NEW BLOGS OF NEBNOOSHOO

“YES MY FRIENDS, JEWELLY WHITE'S GOT IT GOING ON, AND ART IS QUITE MAGICAL”

Jupiter, Florida, welcomes you to Morianity; Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.

DECEMBER 10, 2013,

LATE TUESDAY MORNING AT 10:58

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 79 DEGREES FNHT.

TITLE OF THIS SERIES OF BLOGS:-------

“THE MAGIC TOOL THAT CAN PREDICT DOW JONES PRICES WITH 80%+ ACCURACY, ENDLESSLY, AND IS MY PERSECUTION, IN THE UNITED STATES; SINCE THIS BEGAN IN 1986”

Why is this nearly the year of 2014 and I am here discussing record promoter Lenny McKinnon, and a thousand other topics from A-Z that pertain to things from 10-50 years ago, like it was just going down yesterday? Folks, because to me, it has, and I have nothing to do whatsoever at why this is so, and am not the one who indeed is making it all so. You most likely choose not to believe this, and THAT is causes a distance between us, separating you from ever knowing powerful truths that I admit to trying to publicly get out here, as this is my only avenue for getting out of what you all call for many many centuries, “HELL”!

There is a group of rotten horrible monster mother fuckers somewhere in this cosmos, who has targeted me for a very wild experiment. These same jerk off entities are the ones that can cause me to have, what you would all consider to be a powerful and vivid dream, such as on April 27, 2011, about being in a class-room setting, and then awaken and go somewhere, and within a few hours after being what you would all see as being back awake, in a similar setting, a computer class at the HARVEST, where I worked Mondays-Wednesdays at the time, and had a dude for no good reason, viciously attack me, not physically, but the verbal assault out of the blue with absolutely no provocation whatsoever, was right out of any 50 TWILIGHT ZONE television shows.

People, my troubles as with all of yours, some are indeed caused by my stupid life decisions, and a lot of just plain ordinary everyday bad luck. Many however simply put folks, ARE NOT, with all of the emphasis of those areas in my song from 1986, called ''Real Good Girl'', Sir Lurch Rockdroid Kirkrush!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If however, shit that I am going through to this very mother fucking day down here at &th Avenue and Avenue B, in Fort Pierce, Florida; directly connects all of these things from my past. If there was truly any way of separating myself from my past and as all of you love to say so much, MOVING ON,, I would gladly do this. I would give half my limbs and half my blood volume, if someone could ever show me it is possible to do this in my particular case, only I know it is not, and I know it so strongly that I cannot describe this to any of you. You merely need take one example I'll now give to you, and then multiply this maybe about four dozen freaking ass times. You go to prison for 30 years. You were totally framed. You never deserved this punishment. Now you are out and serving 20 years being on parole, strictly monitored. You still never ever did one thing to break the law that you supposedly broke. You are 100% innocent. But every job you try to get, forget about it. Every person you try and befriend, forget about it. In fact, just forget about anything except doing the rest of your hellish time on this Earth, and then dying. Well, as I said, multiply this by 50 magnifications, give or take, and this is me. So don't be all out there my friends and fiends please, wondering why I seem to be stuck in some time loop warp, and totally oblivious to the time that is passing around me, not caring about all of the current events and rarely blogging about any of them. This has no connection with my hellish existence, none whatsoever. I just hope this little diatribe has cleared some stuff about me and these blogs up, if only a small miniscule bit, and if not, well, Ziggy Malyeska said it so well in 1969, ''That's the way it goes”.

I have heard many people say over the span of my life in present condition, that it is a strong truth to say the least, how the greatest people on the Earth as measured by mankind himself, believes the wildest tales, while the shoeshine bums scoff and laugh. This comes into its own with the mighty new Presidential Hopeful, Mister Fakehair. LSS, however you shake it all up, my early October blogs in 2008 would make some Missourians wonder just how I knew that the Philadelphia Phillies Baseball Club would definitely be celebrating their World Series Victory in about four weeks time, with no hesitation or trepidations whatsoever in my belief of this future event. This is why the great and omnipotent Donald must have actually thought, as he came zooming from the sleepless city to the north, over to his other city of America's playgrounds, that I went too far, and brought the greatest voice ever, up to the future; and into his casino. The way he came tearing over, and still was too scared to land that loud chopper of his, for a seemingly endless period, after his security and other ops teams obviously e-mail attached him, their just made video surveillance tapes, from the floor of the Trump Plaza Casino, that day around two and a half years back. Don, do you really think I would risk a 260 pound mass to energy conversion, that would be more than sufficient to wipe out this, and most likely the nearby star systems around this one, old pal? Borrow some coffee from her and wake up, YO? If they somehow had ever met and touched, I could type in the word 'POW' with a vigintillion “W” letters and it would be a gross understatement of what would transpire, sir. Even 'THAT-BOY' would never do anything that wild or crazy, but the more I ponder on this, maybe you would make the greatest president of the nation after-all. Anyone willing to entertain, and be nervous, about the remote possibility of this happening; would probably have caught Mister 'OBL' a lot quicker than both the current and past presidents combined, so I will give you a capital 'A', as well as a capital P, the 'P', for paranoia, since as we all know, Mister Trump, it takes one to know one, YO. I would never go back to 1986 and bring MI as a teen, into your place. Still, you are one cool dude for even thinking that I would, YO. Go beat your buddy Tiger, he is falling down fast, and I hear you have a good swing yourself, old dude.

MI, I got your message. I am in the middle of a move, and even though it is across town, and not thousands of miles, no one is helping me do this; so give me until the end of the coming week. It will be around the same time your friends from South America called me on the other number 300 miles to the south. If you want it to be any other time, you can let me know, I know that now. But then brown eyes, what can't you do? I have come to learn that about you TQ. T-B hears and obeys his GODDESS.

Now that my 2 fave peeps are out of the way here, I can blog on and say a few other powerful things today, and wrap up, and crash shortly; as I am all worn out from packing lots of junk.

The world has a right to know how to prove that all things talked about on the 'Blogs of Mountainpen', are all correct and true, and never are posted for purposes of misleading anyone, or down right prevaricating to anyone, at any time. No one is going to sift through tons and mountains of crap, not even if the author was Britney or Trump or Lindsey or Paris or Eminem, or any famous celeb. So here I am with more text and words, than the mighty and quite cool, Mister James Patterson, and hopefully in no near-in way, geologically, is he related to the wonderful and extremely mysterious 'person', going by the name of Donna Lalassas, of New Jersey, in 1990, after our encounter a decade earlier when her name matched yours, or perhaps somewhere written close to an even and equal totaling length of words, when all totaled up; but I am not so dumb as to expect, that peeps are going to archive all of my older blog writings, so tonight I will re-tell about the great 'FASCITAR', as well as remind the world of a powerful statement made and revealed by a Doctor Bruce Goldberg, whom also is a highly successful novelist and colleague of Mister Patterson; and this book being referenced here by me, is entitled, “Time Travelers From Our Future”, a must read, as it is done well, and contains many powerful truths, that at the beginning of the so-called New Age a while back, were being seriously examined by even the heavier skeptics of the state of Missouri, as well as the town of Eureka, California. In any case, wherever we all reside, whatever we choose to read or not to read, what I will say now has been said except for this short additional addendum. There is no record now of the 'FASCITAR'. However, all one needs to do to prove this is not made up, is find out in the late sixties or the start of the seventies somewhere, at the US Copyright Office, just who indeed was the author of these words of secret and ancient wisdom, and then remember that Morianity merely tells about this, and reminds anyone interested, that one more part of this great truth and secret needs to be applied, a secret for whatever the possible reasons, was omitted from any ODF the original texts, and a secret that without knowing it, wipes out the true total benefit of using this ability. 'HACK FUCKING ATTACK', both on this blog, as well as on my other blog before this one, chapter 146, the famous {ODF} bullshit. I said it was OMITTED FROM ANY (OF), AND NOT ANY (ODF)!!!!!!!!!! This fucking 'BUT' attack of the after-library-days, is major on my mother fucking nerves, peeps, YO!!!!!! If I could line up whoever is doing this against my wall right now, I swear they would be tortured slowly to death, the way Bin Laden is being tortured right now, despite all this hocus pocus you see in the media. sheeeeeeeeeeit. The original teachings said the following things. Lay still on your bed in darkness and quiet, uninterrupted. Think about whatever would make you feel totally devinly blissful, and once in this state, without moving one muscle in your body, do the following exercise: Pick a place and a time that you wish to visit. While staying in that state of mental bliss, imagine that your spiritual doppelganger or (Astral Body) is oozing out of you like a tube of toothpaste if stepped on by a 400 pound person right at the bottom inch of it with the cap off. As your mind's eye perceives this, imagine going to the place you want to be, only not the you in the bed, but the ghost double of yourself. Pick out who you would see, and what might happen; and then replay this fantasy ten times, repeating it precisely, hence, you cannot make it some ultra complicated James Bond plot. Keep it short and sweet and simple. When this is all finished up, after roughly 10-40 minutes, depending on the length of your fantasy, you then go to stage two. This is where you literally silently command your Astral essence or body, to leave your physical body, and then you must choose a particular time; normally it is suggested to say one, two, or three hours. This is then repeated as a silent command, for six times. You must use the magic numbers here, why, I do not know; but you must use the ten times to play out the fantasy, and the six times after this, where you command your Astral Body to leave you. Then when this is all accomplished, you merely roll over and go to sleep, and it is also imperative that you stop thinking about what you just did as much as is possible, and drift off into sleep. After you have tried this between 3-8 times, the average person will suddenly wake up in what is called a waking-freeze. You will be asleep and awake at the same time. Any neurologist will immediately understand why I say this. When you sleep, for your own protection, your voluntary muscular system shuts down, in order to prevent you from acting out your dreams by wildly flailing your arms, or jumping out 'ODF' bed all around, AND I SAID OUT '''''OF''''' FUCKING BED, HACKER JERK OFF. Get fucking lost and LET ME TELL THIS, YOU BASTARD ASS HOLES, AS PEEPS HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW THE TRUTH, MOTHER FUCKERS!!! Aniwho, when you awaken in a freeze up, you will be scared out of your mind, as not only are you immobile, and seemingly helpless; but also, you will begin to hear very loud whining and buzzing sounds, and as you remain in the bi-astral-condition, your fear grows to the point where all you can think about, is getting out of it, and just waking up normally. The faster you learn to ignore the mortal fear of this, the faster the real miracle can be experienced. This is where you forget the fear within you, and begin to powerfully will, with all your might, to be on the Astral Plane. My advice is to will yourself to be in the Capitol City, it is called Sahasra Dal Kanwal. After doing this for about what may seem to be a period in mortal time of 10-30 seconds locked in this waking-freeze, suddenly and instantly, you will just be where you willed yourself, and let me tell you all something, you will know it is NO DREAM. You are THERE. It is the most incredible thing in the world and beyond, and this is all I am going to speak about it on this blog. Should you want to do this, and end up there, you may ask the great 'Jehovah', or Sarah-Stacey Krassle, to let you remember this experience with extra intensity and clarity. Also, if you wish, will yourself to the Ricktown Manor, and come and visit with me there. It is where I live, with the great Lightning Goddess Diana Arteemis, quite far away from Sahasra Dal Kanwal. One thing I do insist on, for your own safety. Should you wish to come in to Ricktown Manor, you may explore the entire home, it is gigantic. Just do not enter into any of the closets in bedrooms that are in use, as it may be one of Diana's, and she is very funny about invaders or visitors, entering her closets. She probably gets this from her cousin Stacey. As long as you have a functioning Physical Plane body back here in the material world, you will never be able to remain too long on the astral Plane. There is no chance of not getting back in other words, for those of you who love this mortal life so much, and cling to it like a bar of gold.

I tried to post this blog, and COMCAST CABLE is fucking with me Bob McDowell, FCC. They shut down my entire internet. So then, I unplugged it, and replugged it, and it seems to work now. Let me try and post fucking up, HELP ME BOB MCDOWELL, I HAVE THE RIGHT TO FREE FUCKING SPEECH, OLD SCHOOL CHUM, RIGHT??

How I have this computer and who bought it for me will remain secret for the time being. Lives could be in a lot of danger. Also beginning now on this blog, no more text writing will be done, I am tired of all the wavy lines, for now I am accepting that society is controlling the every move and direction of the population, and we all are quite obviously powerless to do anything about it. I suppose that you know my Morians and other readers that it is so funny and beyond amazing, how the majority of us all now does in fact know, but just gave up. We know we all are under the total control of the wealthiest scum bag world owners who sold all of us down the river and fully intend to make slaves out of us, if they have not basically all ready accomplished their goal even as I stinking speak. Oh but those little things still do count to us little squashed people. Just being able 2 blog again from the comfort of my nice ghetto home without trekking over to the public library, only to be annoyed perpetually, if not by “Stink-Boy”, or machines all hogged up, or annoyers next to my work station, and so much more.

I said one little thing about the Washington politics on my last blog the other day from the library, and POW, the very next day, my bosses there cut my hours down from 25 to 18, a 7 hour weekly loss, as I am in a government funded program of employment through the AARP system. But it was totally OK for a ‘powerful person’ of the world such as Dick Wolf to make the big statement that agrees totally with me and MORIANITY, made just tonight on one of the 3 L&O episodes, about how the jury nullification was the fault of, and I quote, “Dow Jones”.

Tomorrow, the internet will be installed, if things go according to plan, something I never can count on under my horrific HUNTINGTON CURSE, as the Comcast Cable Company will be hooking me yup to the internet system.

Speaking of system recovery and computers, several things lost on my ‘poofed’ out last blog that never made it out to the world, will be discussed on this blog. One thing of great importance that I discussed and was lost is that psychic power and psychics are real, the handful of them that are real that is, as yes, the great majority of them are merely con job artists. If I ever could show and prove to this world some of the shit that I have seen and witnessed, it would blow society away overnight, despite all of Hollywood and their attempt 23 mind control the population and dominate the entire sociological structure.

OK my giant-Gina, as I said, the PHILADELPHIA FLYERS WOULD SLAM OUT A MAJOR VICTORY, and the PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES played a double-header, and LOST BOTH GAMES, just as I told you, and am always mother fucking right. Bookies and casinos are scared to fucking death of me, and were in 1986 in Atlantic City, New Jersey, and they fucking know it.

This is no long blog, peeps are all in their own zone, and only those doing all of this to me are really steadily following my report on them, if anything I'm fucking feeding their already humongous and monstrous diseased super egos. You go Ron Wirtz Senior, Camden County Prosecutors Office, and what you said to me in the early nineteen-nineties regarding “feeding the monsters verses starving them”, how true, how fucking ass true, kind sir, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, two things need to be said right here, today, and right freaking now, Lieutenant Van Buren. NBC, the Network, it is obvious to even this super retard, me, what is going on. Trump, you ugly old miserable fucking soulless bastard you. He is the one who told Dick Wolf about me, and all the shit around 1989, and then before I totally realized what really had happened, they all got together and made more $billions$, well, you go peeps, your maker will judge all deeds accordingly. The part about my endless suffering, also known and blog-discussed repeatedly, and labeled by me as the 'HUNTINGTON CURSE', is also in need of a quick snippet few words, no big harping peeps, let me assure fucking all of you, this will not take fucking long, so let me post up and cry my mother fucking pathetic fucking self to sleep.

First, there is a reality to the FASCITAR. There is a reality to both 1969 and the mathematical 'PITSY'. There is a reality to the HC. There is a reality to Gawky and the great numerological knowledge of this magical overgrown Felix-Lion. There was a reason for my suddenly letting a cassette tape play until the auto-reverse changed sides and I heard a version of my two karaoke versions of my song called, “Real Good Girl”, that night while I was guarding the Cifaloglio trucking plant, back in the garden-green state of Blue Jerksey. There also was a 'VENKA-STRONG-GIRL' reason for my living more than twenty years without ever really realizing what happened to me one night in New York City. There are countless things going on, but without connecting up quantum physics into shit, and transdimensional hyperspace equations, it is as meaningless as dog shit, and beyond even that, STM. Shit all freaking fits perfectly together, right down to a beautiful universe that I died out of to come here, but the only trouble was that over there, the end was real bad, really bad. Donald J. Trump was elected President of the United States in 2012, and in 2014, declared himself god all mighty, which he of course totally believes himself to be. Over here, he will not ever win the presidency. HA-HA-HA. Later on when my daughter, Paula Junior was maxed out at the Harborfields Detention Center in Egg Harbor City, at the age of eighteen, on September 29^th of 2016, Trump had her whisked off to a secret military base in New Mexico, and from here, she retraced me over there, and invented “Laser Trace Distance Delay' technology, 258 years ahead of its time, still, I know how to count boxed numbers in any universe, Milituforce Otammite's and their equivalents. This changes nothing over here about my life, or so one might think, only HSE is not some little toy to be played with by amateurs who are totally mother fucking clueless to 99.9999% of all of these complexities.

Sticking just with here in this one small miniscule piece of all of total hyperspace reality or the entire 5th-dimension, things in millions of close localized hyperspace universes, all mesh and merge together in various ways, and those few that are in the know, can manipulate a large majority of these events while asleep and dreaming, through a science someday known as 'ES' or EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND. All of these things being discussed on this blog are all old news, and all are referenced to in many various previously existing blog posts, most ODF them on www.blogger.com, throughout the past five plus years of time now, peeps, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ODF ODF ODF ODF HACH-HACK-HACK.

I promised everyone a short blog, so for now, as I said, and now I reiterate, GINA, and other MORIANS, and enemies, “I TOLD YOU WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IN THE WORLD OF SPORTS EVENTS TODAY”. It is all a huge parlor trick, but when you know what is fucking happening, it all is no more than child's play, and who is a bigger child than Mister Trump? I've got your number, buddy!!!!!

The question is the answer, because the question asked was MI. Only via STM or (SPACE-TIME-MIND) however, was this all then worked out on some cosmic checkerboard system, and achieved if that word is accurate since it implies a positive reality. The truth is that I came into this fucking world to punish myself as much as would be possibly attainable. I planned this along with Julia White fifty fucking million years ago from Murray's Soda Shop in Sahasra Dal Kanwal. I have darkened my own doorstep with no help from my distant cousins from the north, neither SIR HERBERT or his son, SIR ARTHUR, of the great 'Huntington FAMILY', the family of governors, wealth, and let us not forget, mass murder/suicides. Wow, is this an uplifting blog.

I liked it a lot more when my computer was a lot simpler, but genius Ed Himacane made some major changes when he was last over, and programs run and stuff happens, and it is a pain in the rear end 4 me, the freaking sweeper keeps signaling me and stopping the word program every minute, and also the WOMO gave me a bowel hit a little while back around 9 or just past. Now this pain in my ass computer crap is not stopping, I have tried shutting down, restarting, nothing stops it, some fucking worm is in this, the sweeper will not stop popping on and yet all of this has been swept. Well, guess Eddie will B coming back over. Someday I will prove I am being messed with somehow and take this straight 2 the ACLU and the FBI, cannot blog further until I get 2 the fucking bottom of this spy sweeper problem. All I can do is keep fucking with this thing, let it re-sweep and multitask, the gods; all I wanna' do is blog Ed, what have U done 2 me with all this complex shit? I am not looking 2 run a 20 tera byte system, just 2 do a little blogging 4 crissake. Aniwho, MCMCAAONMC, I guess that is all the dumb machine wanted, just to sweep again, as it is not signaling me and stopping the word program every 20 seconds, PTL--PR. Miss cunt face tried 2 wipe me out, have to shit my eyes a couple minutes now, or that crumb’ll nail me 4 sure. OK, now it is eleven thirteen. I will NEVER FORGIVE OR FORGET that horrid night, back in 1993; at the Atlanta Braves Ballpark, Jane. What U did 2 me was so despicable, it would stink right through a garden of flowers 8 light years cubed. Anyway I am not in a doghouse, I am in a far worse house, and have so much 2 tell y’all it sucks wind backwards at the speed of sound. Where 2 begin is always my biggest problem, as I never will have the time I need 2 really write anywhere near all that I feel is necessary; in order 2 reveal my major plight 2 this evil world in sufficient amounts, so as 2 get anyone with clout 2 ever take pity on me, and assist me in getting 2 the bottom of my hellish nightmare woes. Actually, if the top most powerful persons on the Earth all decided 2 help me, they would fail. That is how gargantuan my troubles really R BRO, Twinbay, and all others. I am not a pessimist Missy, and U read me all wrong that day at the Galloway, New Jersey Library. But nothing ever just happens and no one will understand what I know in its fullness, not Christians, not atheists, not scientists, not sci-fi buffs, not Catholics, not even Eckists, Monks, Buddhists, and U name it, as nobody sees in total clarity, what is real; nobody. The reason that all things appear 2B in some weird and indistinguishable code of jumbled randoms, beyond any possible human recognition; is because we believe whole heartedly, and take a powerful Copperfield illusion, totally seriously; that a projection around us is there and real, when in fact; nothing beyond our center of is-ness of being can B. This of course is simply because, as any possible space extends out beyond our innermost self, time brings it all back right into us in a circulation system of perfect and precise ratio and proportion, that is all a part of the mechanics of a hypersphere, or an upline thought wave in a down-lining process; and this is truth. Refreshing old blogs, 4 new Blogauds, that will most likely not go back, and sift through the long-winded Mountainpen discourses of Morianity, and its teachings; there is a truth that is real to itself, and the Buddhists R not correct that all truth is alterable and relative, to what an inner self makes it, until it eventually comes 2 realize that it is not really there 2 start with. This is all so true in a small box, but it leaves out what the great Atlantic City alchemist told me back in the summer-time of 1974, while I was staying overnight at a rooming house, owned by a lady named Selena Dada, on Stenton Place, between Atlantic and Pacific Avenues. The ultimate truth IS zero dimension. This nothingness somehow DOES exist, and IS aware of itself; and cannot find a way 2 shut off that awareness. It does learn 2 dream out and away from itself into phase two reality, or the Astral Plane; or the Shakespearean arena of the great dream shift, that mortals call the spirit world or realm. Some entity connected with the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL will not stop this fucking hacking, the sweep finished, and now the prompt keeps popping up again, so Ed will come over and get 2 the bottom of this fucking shit once and 4 all. 4 right now, I must live with this, as I have now lived for two days with no telephone service that I am legally paying 4, and I am gonna' contact the BOARD OF PUBLIC UTILITIES, no peace 4 a second ever, not on the weekends in that hell job, and now my entire weeks R wrecked. It is round the clock, with no let up, and not a moments peace 4 life, right WPIX-1988-New York, New York, UFO THE COVER UP TV SHOW, AGENT CONDOR AND AGENT FALCON? Talk about never forgetting things like dirty rotten Jane in 1993, or this show on channel 11, NYNY, back in 1988. U don’t forget major shit that goes down in your life, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!! It never stops, it never backs off. Committing suicide only serves 2 make it worse 4 me, as I know it is all an illusion, and that I will just find myself right back in the same dream, like running 4 the light, and the light won’t go on, and realizing that U never woke up, and now U finally have; so again U jump out of bed and run 4 the light, and then again it does not go on, and I have gone through this nightmare 4 monstrous lengthy amounts of time, or whatever is really happening; just as I have existed forever and will; and I KNOW IT. I slit my wrists last night at 3 in the morning, and slowly bled out right here on my bed. It is so way cool 2 bleed out, and feel the life going out of U, as U get icy cold; and begin 2 fade away, believing as hard as U can that it will all B over in a moment, just as Skylar Rumson was told by Barnabas Collins, when he forced him 2 shoot himself through the heart; on the television show, 'DARK SHADOWS'. Only 4 me, I keep waking up and thinking I am dying; and have not yet died, and then die; and then wake up again and again, until eventually, I wake up, and the entire thing was just a dream, but then; I am aware totally, that all of this is just an astral dream down, and even that is a dream away from the truth; or the great void of zero dimensional existence; something no human being can fathom. Some of these mighty truths were once up online on a website called, www.morianity-foundation.com/ but this site is now defunct, as Kate and I do not have any money; nor any new material 2 copyright presently, on the subject thereof. I am aware that free sites exist, and Ed will B working on finding me one; and getting this foundation, and its many powerful truths, back up 4 this blind ignorant planet, and its residents 2C and know. At least this world will have the truth. The only good thing now, is that this stupid fucking pop up can shoot up every 20 seconds or so; and eventually go off, and it is not stopping the word program until I click on it.

Long story short, the mail was always delivered here at this lovely 6-9 room place, with rooms that all sort of go into each other, with no hallways; and just endless first days of summer of 2008, and a powerful goddess that has been chasing me around 4 all infinity now; but mail was always delivered here at about 10:30 AM, until about last weekend give or take, and now it is coming sporadically and never B4 3 or so in the afternoon. King Dawn the Queen, formerly and always known by, PRINCE; asked me 2 call the Post Office, and C if I can find out what is up with the mail around here, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I reminded her what she wanted me 2 use 4 a telephone. She said, 'use the house phone that they have on their Comcast Cable system' that also runs my internet, and we split the package deal bill between us. Still, I reminded her that I did not have the number 4 the Post Office, even though I invented the thing a very long time ago. She always tells me how expensive it is on their Comcast plan, 2 call the service information operator. Her mom AKS, looked up the number in some book they finally found; a personal book of numbers and they had the local Post Office listed, yo. So I called, and Long Island Highways, and Lottery Cats that meow me 2 death in 1980, just 2 or 3 months after the LOIS FOCA interaction with SCYLLA; they have an interesting telephone number, right Frank Calli-0---D-I-E, YO??????????? There is no way this is all just a coincidence, wo BRO, I am not done yet, so hold onto your stupid looking suspenders, Eddie Albert Gabor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God these crashing cymbals get louder by the day, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho, MC,MC, and all other non MC’s; I called and spoke my peace; and here is what the nice lady told me, BR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It seems the rural area of Berryville, New Jersey, formerly B4 Mountainpen and Prince, known as Hammonton, is going 2 get a mail count, interesting initials. This Mail Count is not 4 any reason I have ever heard of. The story I was given, was that all mail on local roads, will B taken first 2 the Post Office 2B counted; and then delivered. This is the wildest and strangest thing I have heard of since I invented the Post Office. Do they really think Roger is going 2 mail me something from Arizona?????????????????? I cannot think of any other reason 4 this very mysterious and strange SITUATION here, Inspector Louigee Henderson!!!!!!!!! If UR out there RC, do not mail me anything, this is 2 weird!!!!!!!!!!!! Your system is wonderful. I played 4 games today, 3 were all no signal, and the 4th one was an IN-LOW-8-STOP OUT LOW-14, with one green hit, for a 5 and a half unit profit.

Diana, I am not able 2 communicate with U in our usual way, until the repairman arrives Thursday afternoon. When he does, he is going 2 face the phone jack, insert plug down, currently with no pun intended, it faces up, right into that leak from the upstairs bathroom shit-hole, and even though this leak has been fixed; I do not trust these fucking pricks from here 2 the China Earthquakes, and the Hawaiian Volcanoes. Much later tonight, or 2 keep Don Cialoni happy from the recording studio, tomorrow night, as he used 2 say, “It won’t B tomorrow, until I go home and go 2 bed, and then get up”; I will B back on line with my big beautiful blond. Please always B around me Diana, UR my lightning, and I need U my love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I felt that terrific strike the other day, when I was moving something; and made contact with something. How I loved my days as Benny, and messing with U, and the only thing that saddens me now, is that U never trusted me with your secrets back then, of what and WHO I was dealing with, after all; it is all just a dream, right Chris Farlowe, plans and schemes all not withstanding????? Well, she did ladies and gentlemen, as I lay on my bed dying in 1790, no this is not a typo; crash, bing, Harry Callas, and 13 bells of Sound Pressure Level, BR!!!!! No DZA did tell me at the very end when she knew my heart was just about 2 quit, and told me that I would wake up in a room in the sun, and I did in 1980, but she never explained how she was Sarah-Stacey’s cousin on the great Astral Plane, and I did not know about her at all until the end of the 20th century. Maybe this is all how and Y and what made my dad so sick 2 his stomach on the train. No uncle Snoots, I never said my poopy pop was right by telling the conductor that it was U that puked all over. I just think it was very rude of U2B saying this 2 my mom, at your shit hole mansion, at 175 Peninsula Drive, in Nebuchadnezzar-ville, New York; right in my presence, when I was just a young lad of 17; ya son of a bitch!!!!!!!!!!! But who am I but dog shit?, and UR the mighty Senior Vice President of the Chemical National Bank, the second most powerful bank on the planet at the time in ‘72. Cheer up Sam Walton, my plans R all fucked up, and that boosts this scummy economy of yours, and uncle Snooties. Nothing good lasts forever, but let me tell the world what happened when I woke from the dream where I slit my wrists. The market had gone up 1633 points that day. I know it, I was there; but by moving off of where I was exactly in the hyperspace, I re-dreamed myself into a slightly shifted locale, where the 'DOW' had finished off nearly three bucks. Hyperspaces make strange bed fellows, huh banker of Akoslem??????????????? U wouldn’t have wanted the Haddonwood property buddy, as there is a strange void field out in the lake there somewhere, that leads far away; and U don’t need 2B concerned with what this pitiful whittle retard knows about all this, ol’ buddy!!!!!!!!!!!! “Talk 2 Frank”. Yeah, I was good enough 4U back when I was 15 though, huh Victoria, U child molester!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH “I have such gorgeous hair”, do I? Well, U need 2 talk 2 Donna Gaines, and her friends; and then 2 the Wolf clan, that seems so fascinated by her last name. Jeese Louise Shannon Wallwarp Carwrecker Genlow, of December 18th of 2006!!!!! www.blogger.com/http/drunkenhive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Almost 39 years have come and gone now Vicki, bite me bitch!!!!!!!!!!! This whole nightmare chews. I’m bookin’, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Y shouldn’t a dog live in a doghouse, a crazy house; or a nightmare? Well, because I never did anything 2 deserve this, and just because I am Stacey’s dog, this is just 2 keep her miserable parents happy. They banned all the dogs out of Her great city, and over the great wall into Dogtown. Read the last page of the KJV of the Holy Bible, Y would I make this shit up, BRRRR?

GOOGLE AND SWIS, AND KS-WORLD LABS OF 2299, THIS IS ALL Blahhhhhh and bleeeeeeeee and blmummmm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Copyright Michael Wayne Mountainpen-2009, and blog registered on an official registry bloggers website.

E~N~D------------T~R~A~N~S~M~I~S~S~I~O~N, BR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mark or Jesse, Grammar schools in EHNJUSAESMWG in this or any other part of HS.

This is YYYYYYYYYYYYY this poor dog should not live in this eternal doghouse, it is quite simple really. Let me explain things to you ladies and gentlemen:

BECAUSE IT IS UNFAIR

BECAUSE I NEVER DID ANYTHING TO DESERVE IT

BECAUSE I AM INNOCENT

BECAUSE I AM IN AGONY AND TIRED OF BEING ENDLESSLY PERSECUTED BY ALL MIGHTY SCYLLA GODDESS.

BECAUSE I AM DAMMED IF I DO AND DAMMED IF I DON'T.

GET IT YET, GOOD FOLKS???????

So here I a am in hot sunny Florida, on this tenth day of December, 1400 miles give or take from everything I used to know and be a little bit more of a part of. I did not ask for this, it was either this or die at the hands of a true monster rat by the name of DAWN-MARIE KING. Just what would have been said to me by that lady driver of that silver Volvo car in late 89 or early 90 while I resided at 1102 Robin Hill Apartments, in Voorhees, New Jersey? Would she have told me this entire mess was in my future? Would she have merely said that she wants to fuck my brains out? These things that people try not to do but they do anyway, you know, the pondering of the shoulda coulda woulda stuff in our lives, is not as simple as it may appear. Nothing in our cosmos is, and guys and gals from the great SCIENCE CABLE CHANNEL, know this stuff only too fucking well, good peeps. To me, it is always 2000, 1967, 1995, you name it. The only time that it never is, is a time that these entities of the great and evil NCC-CLOUD won't ever let it be for me, is RIGHT NOW, PRESENT TIME. This is not allowed. I do not dare ever have any existence in the present. This is something that needs addressing and explaining, but the really smart folks if reading these words, don't need it addressed or explained, because they indeed know already.

I have a lot of things to tell and say. Naturally; I will pick and choose the few that time permits all of us to share in some really mind blowing stuff, even in you may not be consciously aware of this truth, Russ and Count Shaves.

Back on Wednesday, Mikey called me out of the blue and we are speaking again, and I learned a lot of shit from him on many subjects. In a nutshell, his sales job sucks and as most all of them do, promised him truckloads of money if he would put in the time, and he did, and the effort I might add; and only got a pittance out of it, and is why he for a while was behaving kind of fucked up, I cannot say I blame him. I learned that the mighty Harvest and many of the self righteous arrogant pigs from there, all as the mighty normally do eventually, FELL. I really hope the NSA and the FBI and all of the so-called caring authorities of this nation, are aware just how powerful this fucking drug culture is. You won't stop it, that I'll promise. On top of that, people are hooked on all kinds of dope and booze that you never in a million years would suspect they are. Not everyone shows their physical symptoms as prominently as a majority of users and drunks do. All I can say is a lot of git bags got what they deserved and I am incredibly fucking disappointed in all of them, as human beings first, and secondly, as peeps I had been somewhat close to in my daily associations a few years ago.

Yes fucking sir, people, I learned a lot of powerful shit back on Sunday afternoon, up at Mikey's place. Also, I visited with the wonderful Atlantic Ocean, and I told her just how much I love her; and she told me she loves me too, and to quit being such a pathetic wimpy non-believer; and that she has my back, if I just stop causing trouble, and keep my fucking mouth shut a little bit more. She's right. I hear her inside what you might call, ''my soul''. It is not an audible sound, nor is it just my own thoughts, as your own thoughts come to you in the same sound as your own speaking voice, am I right people, or am I wrong? Think about it 4 a second.

Now the main problem I am having in this building is totally supernatural. This is no different in its base point, as is my PPC or persecution-pussy-command when I am under days and days of very heavy aerial siege from planes and chemtrails, etcetera. Today by the way was small for going to visit with anyone, as normally, I get bombarded whenever I do the least little thing 'socially'. There was one plane that was loud and low but it only was around for a short burst and was gone, no circling, no buzzing, not an unrelenting action of normal air persecution. But the one chemtrail was one of those 'thumb-in-the-ass' jobs, and 30 seconds after it was there; the tape in my car stereo system completely stopped working correctly. On the tape I was playing, it refused to play the side that I had recorded something on, and it was a brand new very recently purchased cassette tape. Three guesses what it was folks. I have recently added some 'talent' into the machine-voice-mix on my song, ''You'll Be Crossing Over''. What it is about this and all of music in general, and me, I'll never be allowed to understand, that is one thing I AM sure of, but that's just the fucking point, JUST WHAT IS SOMEBODY'S MOTHER FUCKING PROBLEM? Go fucking figure, my peeps, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have both a track with just these harmony vocals generated from my great Lab-Technician of 1984, and then I have a track of the completed final mix-down music, from the now defucked/defunct Avalon Recording Studio, now Bonjovi Entertainment Corporation, in Port Saint Lucie, Florida. Some of you may just remember the start of this year as well as before the Christmas fucking helliday-holiday season of twenty-twelve, and the incident with the powerful dreams of my engineer Ryan while he was with his 'family' supposedly in New Jersey, where both he and the big boss hail from just as I do; and the cigarette thing, and the rotten job and eventual close down of the place, or said a lot better, and definitely a lot fucking quicker; another 'Mark Wayne Mohr SOSO-WEIN', (Same Old Same Old-What Else Is New)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He had enough garbage in that studio to put a lot more talent into the vocals, and was planning to do this after returning first from New York City and then a visit with his family for the holiday season, only it never happened. It would have taken a couple of hours to do one of the four bars a hell of a lot better, and then this would be used all four times in the fucking song, we all know what's being said without saying it, a completed KFP system that is still in the construction process would sample numerous bytes from other songs, and artificially learn the way the words an d notes need to phrase out musically, this is called, techno-pop talent reproduction, and no one has a program as good as what I used back in the days when things were all done by wild plug and cord connections and various effect machines in-between the recorder and the amps. It would have taken some time to make the final fourth word to move all around in harmonious blends, and then make four more tracks and put them both a barely noticeable amount of microseconds ahead as well as behind the main track, at equal volumes most of the time, occasionally riding the gain manually here an there, and there are a million ways to do all this longhand, but it is time consuming, so he gave me a rotten job, after telling me he was going to really work this thing for me. But this was NOT the same Ryan that had promised to do this for me before leaving in the autumn about thirteen months ago, for the north. That Ryan was very proud of himself for quitting his smoking and told me he was finished forever with it, and was now using the electronic blue cigarette system. That was the Ryan that would have come back and done a super job for me instead of piece of garbage. Engineering is everything, and especially in a techno-pop creation. I know I expect a lot, but that is because I know what can be done when you ride all the effects and all the levels and do a totally perfect job. Otherwise, when working with a speaking voice, all you are doing is pitching it musically, and only three notes of music range or so, will come close to sounding similar to the true singing voice from the sampled source, in the case of my project, the introduction part. I will complete a tremendous machine, and I will complete 'KFP', the ultimate music computer keyboard system, but as of now, what works once, does not work the next day, it is sensitive and has a mind of its own, and was originally meant to operate totally and only, with analogue audio equipment. Why the WOMO-MILITUFORCE is so hell bent on my not ever doing anything at all in the field of music, must have something deeply rooted in both unnatural and yet unknown realities, or they would not make it their life fucking mission to stop every single mother fucking thing I ever try to do, WITH MUSIC. Now with my lab-tech, this is fair game. This was a conversation between US in 1984, and although recording on the telephone is illegal, I'll admit, fine YO, then how about if everybody comes clean about everything? When it all is balanced out and said and done, I might do a couple years in a federal fucking pen, but when I get out, the owners of this world will be legally liable to cut me a fucking check for about eighty billion US dollars, for all the shit that's been stolen from me, and illegally used without my permission, and on and on an don I could go for a week of typing without stopping for a glass of piss juice!!!!!!!!!!!!! also, because the voice was when she was only 14 and not 20, it is not under contract by anyone, or even legally owned, not even by wonderful her. Still, I see this nasty ass little butt wipe three inch jet and chemtrail off to the south while driving out of Mikey's driveway to head home, and get down the road and play the tape of a more improved mix-down, just a fraction of what I can eventually do, but is a real head turner, not like the garbage I sent to the Copyright Office back on the fucking third day of July; and kapow, the tape just garbled and would not play. I parked someplace after crossing over the Hutchinson Island south Fort Pierce Bridge, no pun intended, honestly, well maybe a little one; and the only way this will play is to play it in auto reverse mode, and I have to get used to pushing opposite settings for working it and reversing it after a play, etcetera, a real pain in the ass. But I had with me two other tapes, and no problems at all were presenting themselves with them, not in forward mode, not in auto reverse taping mode, they both operated with Swis perfection. So when I got inside my apartment, I played the tape on my system here, again, no problem, it just refuses to play in the car system, and this is totally SUPERNATURAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Amittyville, New York, and the haunted house, is a total hoax. My shit is totally real. None of you seem to remember when it was admitted to, but I do. Quite a while back, it all came out that Ammityville was just another big UFO big ass balloon hoax, without any innocent little child along for the ride, scaring the nation half to death so some fucking arrogant slob could get their 15 minutes, whatever the hell that shit really means to any of these losers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now for the problem that is also SUPERNATURAL HERE IN THIS BUILDING. This was all happening to me when I used to live by myself while my mom was going with that Chicagoan dude, Edwin R. Potter back late in 1975 and 1976. Neighbors for no reason would fuck with me and attack me, and I had fucking pastors and preachers tell me that SATAN was personally assaulting me for unknown reasons. Shit was going down around me that had no Earthly rational mother fucking explanation whatsoever. Then Jim Genius Burr told me that it all has something to do with my family. I thought that he was a total fucking fruitcake looney bird, BUT GUESS WHAT FOLKS, HE HAPPENED TO BE FUCKING 100% CORERECT, ALL ALONG, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The minute I pasted in the supernatural shit that goes on in my building, my next door nabe began blaring that video-game system of his at ten shy of noon. This is what I mean, things being timed to precise unexplainable coincidences, over and over and over again, folks. Make sense and explain this all away, and I will literally kiss anybody's ass, as nobody on this Earth would be happier. Unfortunately a man in New Jersey named Clarence, knows only too well, hjow impossible it ever is to PROVE ME WRONG, and almost did a JOE PAGET on me that day, and I admit, I was scared when he nearly lost it. This is not funny Mayor Bloomberg, so go screw yourself, all of you and your NBC jerk off network EW friends and demonic filth!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FOLKS, 'GO WASH YOUR HANDS'.

DAVID, GET OFF THE DOPE, SKELETIN HEAD.

WELCOME TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS. Anyone can join, and the price is ABSOLUTELY FREAKING FREE, long gone, never was, or whatever, huh Congressman Andrews, my old buddy from 75-80?

Here is a little bio information about the Head-Morian, as requested by the original blog website that I joined in 2006 to begin my blogs and the Morianity-Project: MY LINK TO OLD BLOGS IS AS FOLLOWS:

http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/

**********On Blogger since January 2006

New blog from December of 2011----------------------------------http://www.theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/

**********On Blogger since January 2006

Counts observed on Google, November, '13

*****************Profile views: - (2,878)

NEW BLOG PV- (225)

************Total page hits:------- (32,548)

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh my poor mom, don't you and I suffer, YO!!

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABIT, here we go, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*******SUICIDE – OR WAS IT?*******

BY Grace Mason, in her original words, in the year of our Lord, AD 1977.

Upon recovering from what appeared to be a suicide attempt, my thoughts centered around others who did not survive ''apparent suicide''. There must be numerous cases where the person did not intentionally plan to take his or her life but never lived to affirm it.

The furtherest thing from my mind that night was suicide. Yet I had taken sixty tranquilizer pills, which would certainly indicate I had tried to commit suicide. Other circumstantial evidence would further convince anyone as I had hidden the prescription bottle in a boot in my closet before passing out. There also would appear to be logical reasons for the overdose I'd taken. But, I had no idea of suicide when I downed those tranquilizers. I merely wanted to forget what had just happened.

I am convinced now that some of us can reach the limit of what we can take and then all that is necessary is an additional sudden shock to catch us off guard and set off the alarm – an alarm that causes one to react irrationally momentarily. If alone, it certainly can cause disastrous effects....And that is just what happened to me.

I believe my happy well-balanced childhood prepared and sustained me in the difficult years that were to lie ahead.

I was twenty-six years old when I fell in love and married, fully ready not only to accept the joys but also the trials, tribulations and sorrows through the years.

For the first ten years of married life there were just two of us. People often remarked that we must be the happiest couple living – and we were. We were very much in love....But there was one serious problem. My husband throughout our eighteen years of married life had difficulty in maintaining employment and the problem was made manifold in the last eight years of our marriage because of the additional responsibility of raising our son. Unable to support us at the end, and finally, after everything we owned had to be sold at auction no house to live in, or car to drive, food and clothes at a real premium ….he walked out and we separated. I am happy that my son, who was eight years old at the time, has grown into a fine young man, has an excellent job and lives in his own apartment.

I worked throughout most of my married life in various businesses and during the past fourteen years have continuously worked as a secretary. It wasn't easy going backward to live in a one-room furnished apartment, but I managed to make a comeback for my son and me after the breakup of my marriage. After a few years of being on my own I procured a divorce so that I could forget the past and make a fresh start.

A year ago a man in the company where I worked asked me to go out to dinner with him. It wasn't long before we knew we were in love. He asked me to marry him but there were complications. Before ever going out with him he had expressed to me his intention of divorcing his wife. I had every good reason to believe him. I was aware that he had many unsolvable problems with his wife and there seemed to be no hope for their reconciliation. They lived apart in different cities and rarely saw each other. (I have a very strong contention that people should remain married if at all possible and I could not bear to be responsible for a divorce.) 'Her afterthought'

We had a year of beautiful times together, awaiting his final decree so we could be married. We talked and planned our future together. The door was opened for a lovely new way of life.

None of this was a simple matter. Along with the trauma of his getting a divorce, it was further complicated by the fact that this man happened to be ''my boss''. We both had to be very discreet. Neither of us was going into this foolheartedly and neither of us could afford to jeopardize our job. Still another complication arose when he was asked to work in a new office location – which was not accessible without a car. I had never had the means to buy a car, but, nonetheless, he asked me to work for him and said he would make sure transportation would be provided each day....It was – and he was the one who constantly provided it. We shared many happy hours both during and after business. Our future together was becoming more of a reality every day.

Later we were to have a number of misunderstandings and there was an instance where he told me he was going back to his wife. I was shocked. His divorce was already in process. I decided to go off somewhere for a week to collect myself and once again reshape my life. After five days I received a phone call from him asking me to please give him another chance, that he loved me, and would make it up to me. I gave him that chance. The divorce was pushed once again. He began to tell his close friends in business that we were going to be married. We not only picked up where we left off, we shared a closer than ever relationship. The bond between us seemed unbreakable. But it wasn't to be...His wife came on to see him – and again he told me he decided to ''try to make a go of it''. Upset as I was, I steeled myself to go to work with him the next few days. He appeared completely miserable and said he just couldn't go back to her after all. He told her they must complete the divorce. He said he could not wait for me to meet his daughters now. Foolishly, I picked up where we left off and my love still was undying for him. After many months, we had received word from both his and her attorneys that they were ready to take action for finalizing the divorce. That weekend we were especially happy and we had a delightful lunch at a charming spot in the country.

The night before I had prepared a home-cooked dinner for him. He smilingly remarked what a happy life we would have together if I just continued cooking like that.

To this day I shall never know what happened. Suddenly his wife appeared again the early part of the following week. He told me he was going to attempt reconciliation after all and that it was over for us. This was not the final or second real shock yet. I had survived the breakup the first two times and now I must overcome it again. Once more, overwhelmed with chagrin, I visited my cousin for just the weekend this time. It was such a lovely home, sprawling by the beach overlooking a bay. Again I collected myself to face the future. My only request of him was that somehow he continue to provide transportation to work. I realize now that what I should have said was – ''please give me a little time to find another means to commute even if I have to move''. But, at times like this, he was very uncommunicative. He had not even given a reason, nor would he, for this very sudden and shocking change. Upon returning from my trip, I asked my doctor for a prescription for my nerves, and told him why. On the way home from work I picked up the pills at the store.

Next morning I met him outside my apartment building ready for work as usual. I managed to get through the day. But, that night there were many buzzes and knocks on my door. I did not respond as I had gone to bed early. When the knocks and buzzes pounded in my ears, I could not go to sleep. It left me little alternative but to answer the door. I did. There stood both man and wife staring at me. The rest is somewhat vague, but they did come in. I do not recall whether or not I invited them.

Not one word did he utter during their brief visit, but his wife talked continuously. She reprimanded me for having gone out with him, even though he had not been home more than three times in the past two years and during which time their divorce was in process. I was at a loss for words. It was too much to bear.

Then came the full impact – the second blow which I was not yet prepared to handle. As he sat there with nothing at all to say, she pointed her finger at me and said harshly – ''My husband is never to take you to work again''.

Sometime during all this, he had quickly walked out of my apartment. I do not recall at just what point, or why. Everything became hazy.

I do not remember her walking out after that last remark or if anything further was said. I barely recall anything clearly from then on. Before they had arrived, I had set the alarm clock for morning, was ready to sip a cup of decaf coffee along with two tranquilizers to help me fall asleep.

The moment she left I remember a sudden feeling of helplessness overcoming me and an intense fear of losing my job. I am 57 years old. I had always tried to be logical and practical but this time for the first time I had no control over the situation....The decisions were being made for me. I went to the sink, took the bottle of pills up to my mouth, threw back my head until my mouth was full, and with a glass of water swallowed the pills. Being a very thin little pill it was easy to do.

Never before had I done anything impulsively, and to this day it is hard to believe. I was unaware how many I was taking at that time. In fact, not one thought was in my head except I just knew I wanted to forget for a while. Certainly I was not thinking of taking my life ; that I DO KNOW.

My mind seemed to be working rapidly. After taking the pills, my thought was – I must let someone at work know I will not be in the office the next day. I would have to ask someone to call first thing in the morning. I didn't want to do the calling myself until I could think things through, but I was obligated to let my company know. You see, I was not secretary solely for him but for another executive as well. But, before going out my door my head already in a whirl, in a flash I thought I'd better hide the pill bottle just in case something should really happen to me and that might mean my son would lose my insurance. Now, had I been rational, I would have realized any such condition could be diagnosed with or without the pill bottle, especially if an autopsy were made. But I didn't give the matter much thought….I certainly didn't think anything would really happen to me, AND by this time I probably wasn't too coherent.

I threw the bottle in a boot in the back of a closet. Then, using the fire exit, went up the back stairs to the apartment manager's wife on the floor above me.

I know she would be glad to phone my other boss to let him know I would not be at work that day. I wasn't sure what the man I'd been going to marry might now say to those at the office so I prepared to give my own reasons. But I wasn't ready to handle or discuss it if it became necessary...SO having someone also call (just to let them know I was trying to work out a solution to my transportation problem) seemed sufficient to me.

I was unaware that the pills were taking effect. I reached the apartment manager's door and knocked. When his wife came to the door, I gave her instructions for calling the Office. She later told me I was uncoordinated at the time. I hadn't mentioned to her that I'd taken any pills. It didn't even enter my head; it seemed so unnecessary and unimportant. We had become friends in the last few months and I had told her earlier about my previous break ups with him.

After giving her my Company phone number, I turned, started down the fire escape steps and completely blanked out. Miraculously, I did not even hurt myself when I fell. I later found out that I was picked up by a tenant who called for help. I understand I talked a little before arriving by ambulance at the local hospital, but I have no recollection of anything until a few days later. I was unconscious during that period.

So, you see, the second real shock, the shock of my job being in jeopardy after so many years of desperately trying to succeed in making a comeback from a broken marriage , had triggered the pill incident . The Company had been a major part of my life off and on for over twenty years. It was a frightening experience to have it suddenly taken away from me through no fault of my own, and the other blow still too fresh in my mind. I was just not prepared to meet it.

Years ago I had known a man personally who had been through a similar situation, and, after my experience, it brought the thought to me…. TWO BIG SHOCKS, ONE AFTER THE OTHER, can set off a quick and hasty reaction.

This man had just lost his young wife to a terminal disease after a few years of fighting a losing battle. (Leukemia-Hodgkin) Then, less than six months later, his little son died after two operations to try to save him. Shortly after that he took an overdose of tranquilizers. He was with a company that manufactured and distributed these pills to hospitals and drugstores at the time it happened to him, so they were very handy. Before he passed out he had called a friend , who immediately took him to a hospital to have his stomach pumped. Now, that was years ago but I remember him telling me that he had no intention of suicide. It was only after he took them that he realized the seriousness of what he had done.

Believe me, for those of us who survive, I do not believe it could ever occur again. You now know positively what can happen – and you know you could not repeat it.

I am convinced that there are many other people, like myself, who have taken an overdose of pills without realizing the consequences and with no idea of taking their lives.

Unlike people who plan their suicide, fully intending to end their lives, the people like myself are are hit TOO FAST, TOO HARD, and TOO SOON with TOO MANY SHOCKS, and momentarily at least, are completely unaware they are taking a lethal dose of pills. There are many cases, of course, where a person is prone to attempt suicide and may have a history of psychological problems. There are others, who analytically plan and succeed in suicide, leaving a note or papers indicating life has become too burdensome for one reason or another.

Easy access to tranquilizers or sleeping pills can be dangerous. Yet, for me, I know that under no circumstances could it ever happen again. It shocks you into cold reality. Life for me may not be very important but my religion is..and it forbids any such finality. We are all educated enough to know an overdose can KILL, but at a time of shock your mind can become blurred. Knowing the consequences and being sharply aware that if you lose your head you actually can lose your life, no doubt will keep those who have tried it from ever repeating it.

I am now back working with the same Company but at a more convenient location, and the Company has been very good to me. I understand since my return that he became terminally ill shortly after our separation, left the Company to recuperate, but did pass on a few months later. As for me I have no intention of ever dating again, and will try to do my best to live a more spiritual life.

I have written this article hoping my experience may save others who at a time of overwhelming but temporary desperation, might otherwise risk their lives.

…...........

(The one happy note to the above is – he told his Pastor that I had made him see the Light and the Pastor told me he died a Christian).

THE 'HE' IS NONE OTHER THAN former boss of my mother at the then Lavino Shipping Company, now the Inchcape Shipping Services, in Philadelphia Pennsylvania, with offices all over the world, from Mobile, Alabama, to jolly old England. His name was Edwin R. Potter, and he was from Chicago, Illinois. I am not as forgiving as my wonderful 'Christian' mother. Some might argue he converted so he could avoid me kicking the crap out of him in eternity, as I am heading straight for mother fucking HELL. Not a bad argument, even for morons, Chicagoan's, or Dogtownites of any and all breeds and minnina-kalpa sentences. But so much more exists in my mom's tale of tears and pathetic woes, from 1976. Oh lord fucking christ almighty, if anyone had eyes to see and ears to hear. If my mom's fucking relationship had been Gozzwald cosmically permitted to work out, by the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE; can you even start to fathom the fun and cool games LOST TO THE GODS FOREVER? Jesus-God Terry Pennock; No Robin Hill, no ever finding out about lost loves or daughters, no Atco chocking, no lightning and me meeting up in a human lifetime, no lab technicians of power and mystery, and I could literally type on for a fucking ass century and not scratch the surface of it all. ''THEY HAD NO CHOICE'', biting neck-shave Count Marcucci Barnabas Lambrigger Levy Athan, take away my mom being by herself and us deciding to team up since neither of us ever had life skills to make much money individually, so by joining forces, we could live in some really nice places, and I was destined to have the wildest mother fucking ride in hyperspace imaginable, at least in my humble opinion. Talk about the fucking quintessential HYPER SPACE EQUATION, or effects in transdimensional space interactions, hay Margie Leo from 1985, CUT ME A FUCKING BREAK, SWEETIE, YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**W-----O-----W**

Folks, it is the Mountainpen, AKA not my pal the Prince from the 1980-1999 bomber Squad, but MARK WAYNE MOHR.

That day in the early autumn of oh-Marola-8, where the Mayor's kid said to me out in the surf on that early morning, while Dawn was at her coo-coo-bird meeting, at the smaller transdimensional Trinidad Nuthouse, up at Pacific and Tennessee Avenues, there in town; he had a few things to tell me. It was like it was all pre-matrix-programmed, AND RELOADED, just waiting and already knowing, that I would be coming down to swim there at that exact time; so he could say what he said and then poof; he catches the next big wave into the shore, a truck is already there waiting with friends; and in a flashy shot, they all drive away, and are gone; vanished like a lovely sunset turning rapidly into darkness.

GO WASH YOUR HANDS.

GO WASH YOUR HANDS.

GO WASH YOUR HANDS.

GO WASH YOUR HANDS.

GO WASH YOUR HANDS.

OK WASHCLOTH PEEPS, I WILL!

THE MOST POWERFUL REASON WHY THE PRESENT TIMES ARE NOT LETTING ME EXIST, EVER; IS THE FOLLOWING:

THE MAGICAL MOVE IN HYPERSPACE IN 2008, ON MY BLOGS

The Epitome of Harassment - Internet Version

ANYONE WHO CAN PULL OFF THE BLUCRAN STUNT IN 2008 WITH ME, HAS MY TOTAL RESPECT FOREVER, I OBEY MY LOVELY CHRISTMAS TREE ANGEL!!!!!!!!!!!!! I got beat up for the DMV story!!!!!

The Epitome of Harassment - Internet Version

Saturday, May 31, 2008

short blog number 4

NEVER MIND ABOUT THIS NCC-CLOUD TRICK, PEOPLE, THIS, JUST LIKE HEAVEN, TO QUOTE MORTALS; CAN WAIT.

I must remember that she is the great queen, and maybe in the world of Pedigree Dog-food, us DOGS RULE, but, and she called me Yancy, and said and I quote, “Yancy, remember that I am the great Sarah-Stacey here in this form now, and I RULE, U GOT THAT”? I solemnly just looked down and submissively said, “I know U do my great all powerful lovely mighty queen”. She took my hand and told me that she did not have to tell me about the 2 letters back 11 years ago, and help me construct my idea foundations that R literally responsible 4 where I am today in figuring out so much incredible stuff. I asked her Y she used the sending of 2 blank letters rather than just come 2 me as she is doing right now and talk to me straight up? She laughed softly and squeezed my hand a little, watching me wince from the sudden small bit of pain that her more powerful grip than B4 was causing, and after a 5 or so second pause, simply said, “I am the Millionth Council, and what I say, goes”.

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW: