MORIANITY PART 7, CHAPTER 0027

JANUARY 10, 2014,

FRIDAY EVENING AT 9:17

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 73 DEGREES FNHT.

2014 DATE—–TOTAL BOTBARS—–TOTAL DAYS—–MPB

JANUARY 01———-00——————————01————-00

JANUARY 02———-01——————————02————-50

JANUARY 03———-02——————————03————-67

JANUARY 04———-03——————————04————-80

JANUARY 05———-03——————————05————-60

JANUARY 06———-04——————————06————-67

JANUARY 07———-05——————————07————-71

JANUARY 08----------05------------------------------08-------------63

JANUARY 09----------06------------------------------09-------------67

JANUARY 10----------07------------------------------10-------------70

THINGS ARE VERY VERY VERY HORRIBLE BITTER BAD, MELANIE-INGRID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In a short tweety-bird rockin' robin way, permit me please to now explain why this day went BOTBAR TIMES 2, AND 7 FOR 10 NOW IN THIS MONSTER FUCKING 2014 YEAR, LADIES AND GENTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes sitting on a few hundred secrets the size of ten majestic level hush hush cover-ups, is not a day at any beach, by anybody's stretched mind. But is this the reason I go through this hell, called by me, and others in secret; ''the HUNTINGTON CURSE''? As with all things in this life, there is some truth to this, but the full picture naturally, is quite a bit larger than just this, good people. If reality was the way the kindergarten class all sees it, we all would be happy, and nobody would be shooting anybody or on drugs, or stealing another poor persons five dollar silverware purchase. This however, just is not reality, and although many times we can simplify the complex and arrive at some great conclusions, this wonderful methodology at least on its surface, just won't always be there to cut the mustard so perfectly. I am now 70% BOTBAR, or at an MPB of 70 percent, for both the month of January, as well as the year twenty-fourteen. I asked the great GAGA-KITTY- CAT, why these last two horrible BOTBARS had to happen, and he said to me, ''Meow-Meow, Mountainpen, your answer will be found not on Geraldine Snow Silverhands Jefferson Street in Camden, New Jersey back in 1997, but through the private cosmicoded number of 440. Let us further examine my personal list in my PCN-MATCHBOOK. Here is what we find as we remove doors from any and all lake-house hinges, and begin to explore the cosmic environment, good folks:

MIKE PATTERSON, TRACY RICHARDS, GOLF, BRAD MESSENGER, TRAYMORE HOTEL, KISS, DIME, RAPE, MAYAN CALENDAR, ------- AND THERE ARE OTHERS LESS 'MEANINGFUL AND OR MOANINGFUL', L-4, WHAAAAAA.

SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM. This mother fucking jerk off has been doing this all day long since the break of cunt eating dawn. It is not my next door guy, an d whenever he is away, they don't care how much fucking noise they make, and they made and still are making today, a living mother fucking hell for me here in this total fucking cunt shit hole place, Mizz Marotto, Resident Manager, not that you give a hoot-pollute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Friday is jerked off fucking PUKE-FOOD DAY, here at the building, but not all Friday food days are bad. It is only when certain cunt lapping mother fucking crude obnoxious barnyard-raised residents and or their guests, happen to be around on that day. Obviously it all ties into how much the WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES feel that they need to persecute and harass me, based on current positions and prices on Wall Street, and with parallel events that tie into their success on Wall Street as well, as has been discussed for more than eight solid fucking years now, such as the Philadelphia Professional Sports Ball-Clubs; and how they do, which in turn parallels an endless upward tick on Wall Street, such as with the Phillies losing, the Flyers winning, and the smaller parallels, the Eagles and the Sixers also losing, only the Flyers it seems, parallels with the stock market and me being DOWN DOWN DOWN and injured mortally, forever and ever and ever and ever and ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now just to prove how real and powerful all my shit really mother fucking is good folks out here, I double blind sided the GAWNUM, asking something where if I did not get the number of 871, I would have been shocked and mildly concerned to say the least. But I DID GET NUMBER 871. HERE IS WHAT HAPPENED, or as my pal in the early eighties, Derrijo Exxon might put it, with his thick Italian accent; leta me tellya whatsa haaap-ening! My second abnd final question to GAGA-KITTY-CAT went as follows, food folks, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why did I lose my silverware yesterday, on BOTBAR X 1? A child knows I dropped one of several bags I had been carrying without fucking realizing that I had, as I got off of th elevator, so since my PCN is 871, this was the ultimate test of the GAWNUM, and as I said, the cat gave me PCN-871, and folks, he said to me, ''Meow-Meow, Mountainpen, your answer is PCN-871. Here is the list, like Hyundai cars, 2006, and a real super DUH!

MARK MOHR, TRINIDAD, JOHN KING, GOLD FATE, PRECIOUS, HAMPTONS, …....... AND THERE ARE OTHERS LESS 'MEANINGFUL AND OR MOANINGFUL', L-4, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, recently the FIRE ALARMS ARE HEAVIER AND FREQUENT, the noise by these dirt bag near nabes is a super mother fucking pain in my cunt. If I were doing it, oh they would fucking terrorize and pummel me, just as dirt bag James and his dirt bag girl and their next door peeps, those two drunk drugged up tall skinny welfare rats that hollered all the time 24-7. Let me make the smallest sound, as I told Debbie Marotto, and wham, they'd be clocking and clobbering me with shit. THESE PEEPS ARE NABVERS FROM HELL, straight out of the gates from fucking cunt hell, and I am forced to be here thanks to criminals and evil shits that fucking put me here, and laughed, and go on laughing, because they are less than scum, they are sub scum, and lovely big Gabby knows I blogged about all this in 2006 and 2007, they all get stuff from me, not the other way around, world, and President Obama, sir, and 'NOT-SARAH' abbreviated!!!!!!

This so wonderful year in quintessential humorous sarcasm, can go suck a fat throbbing one!!!!!

WOW, and this is just scratching a surface as large as the North fucking Pole, a tenth of an inch on ice that is miles thick, my good peeps out here, and bad ones as well!!! So let us now move along a bit further, and explore a few more details and elucidations regarding all of this seemingly mysterious and crazy wild crap. Let me talk about MUSIC, and my life as a music creator, recording it, making it from normal sources, and making it out of sampled sounds, sampling and synthesizing and all of that. First, 30 years ago, a communications giant such as AT&T had central switching offices, and they were the size of small buildings. Folks, a day will come when you can take the entire planet Earth and put a sample of it, digitally, right into your pocket, on a super compuphone. As for the NCC-CLOUD, and all the stuff that both I as well as the great Professor Kaku discuss; well, some bastard somewhere already knows the hyperspace equation of many things. These ESS TRAVELOERS have powerful agendas to thin or thicken the fifth dimension with things they each want to be in their universes and realities. This makes war of the old days in just 3 dimensions, compare to watching a couple of insects fighting it out on your porch over a fucking bread crumb.

THIS FUCKING WORLD AND MOST PEOPLE, MAKE ME ILL!!!!!

THIS WAS MORIANITY PART 7, CHAPTER 27. NIGHTY NITE KALISIS.

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW: WHAAAAAAAAAA!!!