JOURNAL
CASSETTE TAPE EQIVALENT NUMBER 25,754
EVERY
MOTHER FUCKING DAY IS SUPER CUNT LAPPING FUCKING BOTBAR, FOLKS. THEY
JUST WON'T GIVE ME A MOMENT'S MOTHER FUCKING PEACE, JUST AS WAS
SPOKEN ON WPIX-TV, IN 1988, BY AGENTS CONDOR AND FALCON ON THAT SUPER
COOL FUCKING CUNT DOCUMENTARY SHOW, CALLED, ''UFO THE COVER
UP''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
These
fucking cock chewing neighbors do nothing but slam and bang and yell
and make noise, it has gone on a real mucking roll for two weeks or
more now, and goes on a roll so it seems where it is good for one
week or so and then real bad for about two weeks of fucking so, then
this repeats over and over and over again, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
if it keeps up after midnight, Debbie said to call CRIME STOPPERS and
make a complaint, AND SOMETHING WILL BE DONE ABOUT IT IF INDEED IT IS
GOING ON AFTER LEGAL FUCKING HOURS, ABND THIS I WILL DO, AS I HAVE
MOTHER FUCKING HAD IT IN HERE. On top of this, fire alarms are again
a daily happening, sometimes more than one, anyone can of course
verify this, it is public information, as the building gets fined for
every false alarm where the authorities are dispensed over here. I
also knew that the WE NETWORK was playing games, I knew if I gave up,
they would the ''L&O'' show back on from 5-8 PM on weeknights.
They have. If they keep removing it just to spite me, they will be
the ones hurt more than me. To me it is just fucking with my
entertainment. But kick a man in his balls and he yells loud and
long. Kick a capitalist in his wallet, well, THAT IS A WHOLE OTHER
MOTHER FUCKING STORY, and I know others will call and complain or
just stop being fans of the network, which means they have to charge
advertisers less money to put on their ads, so if I am that important
and that worth it to fuck with, then do it, bring it, YO! HA-HA-HA-HA
without any Mike McNulty's fro, fucking 1971!!!
MARCH
24, 2014,
FRIDAY
BOTBAR NIGHT AT 7:00,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 69 DEGREES FNHT.
Yes,
every single day, one or two fire alarms go off now for the past two
weeks for the most part, and this is how long the nabes have been
real fucking cunt lapping annoying again, ladies and
gentlemen!!!!!!!!!!! Lightning lets me down every single day, never
ever coming around to visit with her little boy. Things for me are
dark and bleak and I think about ways of committing cunt lapping
suicide every minute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The rotten stinking feds are
worthless bastards who could care less about helping me get to the
real bottom of who is messing with me, and has been since I left
fucking school 42 cunt huffing ass years back in
time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
AM POSITIVE THE DJIA STOCK MARKET IS CUNT LAPPING FLYING THE PAST
WEEK, YO YO YO YO YO YO!
SOMEONE
JUST HACKED INTO THE COMPUTER AND NORTON BEGAN SOME SCAN, RIGHT OUT
OF THE BLUE FOR SOME WEIRD ERROR. I DID NOT TRUST IT, AND I FUCKING
CANCELLED, AND X'D OUT OF THE FUCKING SCREEN IT POPPED UP ON. I NEED
YOUR HELP SO BADLY, MY PAL, FROM GIBBSTOWN, NEW JERSEY; WHO MOVED IN
1974, TO FORT WAYNE, INDIANA ;AND WENT ONTO BECOME THE MAN THAT DAN
MACKEY WANTED HIM TO BE; AND EVEN BECOME THE
FCC CHAIRMAN. HELP ME PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!! From
a boy to a great man, right lovely daughter???????????
All
weekend and especially on SUNDAY, the fucking jerk off door slammer
was here, the guest who comes to one of my neighboring apartments and
does nothing but slam in and out and make a lot of noise, along with
lots of shouting. When this fucking bastard shit eater is here, so is
trouble, all kinds, ranging from A-Z!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If
you don't think stink, that I intend to query my GAWNUM
CAT GAWKY GAUKAUK about why this is all happening to me
recently, 'you all have a brand new thought coming your way', to
quote my now late mommy dearest,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
All
weekend and especially on SUNDAY, the fucking jerk off door slammer
was here, the guest who comes to one of my neighboring apartments and
does nothing but slam in and out and make a lot of noise, along with
lots of shouting. When this fucking bastard shit eater is here, so is
trouble, all kinds, ranging from A-Z, and he can come and does come,
on no discernable patterns, but he never stops coming here and has
been part of the nightmare for me in this building ever since Mister
Stereo as I used to call him, left the apartment across from me a few
months after my arrival here at this place. My guess would say of
2011 and is definitely related to that jerk off James who I know let
the air out of my tire some time back. After I finish my short blog,
taker my bath and clean up in the shit-house, I'll be going
downstairs to speak to the resident manager.
Now
it is a couple hours later than when I first began this blog. I am
continuing along on this journal tape.
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
my pal, Seabottom, I hope you had a lot merrier a holiday than I did,
and I also hope your life is not as continuously mother freaking
miserable as mine is,
24-7-365-2422!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
used to have a dude who knew just how powerful and real all this
horrible shitty hell in my life really was, especially pertaining to
any remotest connection to music and music-oriented endeavors of any
possible kind and or type. He knew it because, guess what my great
friend, he too suffered this very same affliction, and on a day that
he had looked forward to for years, after saving to buy a high end
drum set from a Philadelphia music store, in the seventies somewhere,
pow, he went to start up his Cadillac automobile, and nothing. It
died for no reason, and was not repairable. Prior to that day, even
though it had some mileage, maybe even a hundred-K, it ran like a
top, and my pal David Roth maintained his vehicles very well. Cars
you might say, next to music, was HIS THING, as we ''sixties kids''
used to say back in the great days. My friend, Seabottom, I am not
too chicken to tell you, that this man was also the victim of some
real hams and turkeys out there, as we once referred to some type of
peeps a while back into history. He most definitely was destined to
meet up with me at a department store job, where we were night time
security guards together, while the store was being stocked with
items. It was in November of 1985, and it was in Woodbury Heights,
and was called the Caldor Number 113 Store. A married wealthy couple
owned these chain stores, sort of another K-Mart or Walmart, just a
little less successful; but Coral and Dorothy, where the name
combination of Caldor, and this was store number 113 in Woodbury
Heights, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG. I will be continuing along with the
forbidden topic, MUSIC, after telling you what happened so far today,
kind folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Something
I recently heard on TV, and I am pretty sure from what else but the
greatest law show of all time, even surpassing that of the fifties,
''Perry Mason'' great law television show. If you stop someone from
doing what they are best at, it will drive them mad; yes it was L&O,
the Criminal Intent, and it was genius Tom Reale Studerer who said
this, yes Tommy boy had this studder only far worse, as I have eluded
to in my typing of the way he might speak a common every day
sentence. I would not make fun of him, but this pervert bastard
messed me up, and his powerful freaking New Jersey pals covered it up
and tried to kill me many times so I would not make trouble, then by
successfully getting me on the so-called CRACKPOT-LIST via my being
on a mental disability since late 1994, mission accomplished. I know
for a freaking fact that my family and folks surrounding my family
such as great almighty TAWF (That Family) from the 1970 Ventnor, New
Jersey recurring serial nightmares; are all totally involved in this
gigantic evil monstrous demonic conspiracy. Another man who roomed
with me knows, where there is smoke, there is fire; right wicked
Paula Uwich and evil Braxton sisters???????????
Mountainpen’s Blog
Just another
WordPress.com weblog
MEET CRACKPOT MOUNTAINPEN NEBNOOSHOO, OH YEAH, RIGHT
At
the risk of being pigeonholed as the Girl
Who Writes About Crazy Cursing Dudes, I bring you Mark from New
Jersey. Mark has far-ranging theories on time travel, Armageddon,
roulette and Donna Summer (the DEVIL!), which he angrily discusses in
various telephone conversations.
This
fella is MOST DFEFINATELY for real! A friend of mine roomed
with him for awhile at his home in Blue Anchor, NJ, and said Mark
screamed and yelled into a phone that was off the hook, non-stop,
for days on end. He believes lightning is a Goddess named Sarah
Krassel, and that the Atlantic Ocean is the Goddess Stacy. Moreover,
he is convinced that the Kennedy family, in conjunction with the
Carey family(Mariah and them), in conjunction with the Trump and NJ
Callio family, are conjointly conspiring to kill him, using black-op
helicopter missions, spraying his immediate air space with
chem-trails, and sending Atlantic City-residing life gaurds and bar
tenders stealing into the night, waiting to catch him off-gaurd. The
only problem being that he lives in Ft. Pierce, FL now, but still
believes they’re out there. You can google “MOUNTAINPEN” to
catch up on his latest blogs.
Posted by: Razzy McThaxton | March
16, 2012 at 09:00 AM
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We'll
get back to all of this, but first, here is my errand and day-so-far
report, dear life journal/diary/internet captains blog, Jim Kirk and
Fawces-Gary-God.
Yes,
I awoke to nice silence, no loud crap all around me. Still, I opened
up this blog and then closed it to finish up later. I took a nice
cool bath and cleaned up and then went to the Publix Grocery Store on
Route One here in Fort Pierce. I purchased 30 bucks worth of good
staples and food products that will carry me through until my April
disability money is credited into my account, one week after my older
daughter turns double fours, and five days after my youngest turns
17, all Stone Harbor jetties and political secrets and horrible
brutal transdimensional murders leaving innocent children as orphans,
not withstanding here, wonderful ass world!!!!!!!!!!!! Before I went
to the Public, I stopped at the Good Will Store for a few movie tapes
and three blank VHS tapes that they had in stock. The last time I was
out I put gasoline in the old buggy so that is in for a long time as
I do not go many places. I just crossed over the 85 thousand mile
mark on my odometer, noticing that finally, I now have 85,040 miles
on my 2004 Dodge Neon, for an average annual mileage that is pretty
average these days of such high priced fuel, eighty-five-hundred
miles. Aniwho **-**-****-** before I left the building, I saw Debbie
Moratto, my Resident Manager. She will pull the video of the all day
loud party yesterday, that shows very loud slams at both 1:40 AM and
2:25 AM, on this very morning. I
AM SURE THE STOCK MARKET WILL FLY, AS IT ALWAYS DOES WHEN THE ICPE
TECK IS USED AGAINST ME AND ON ME, SEABOTTOM SIR, AND OTHERS OUT
HERE, SO KNOW ALREADY, A 200 MINUIMUM POINT JUMP ON THE DJIA PRICES,
will be a foregone conclusion on this day. Also this day was very
dense, or said in another way, Professor Kaku my friend, this
simulation was filled in my local fields with unusually high
populogram. This is just shortened for ''population-hologram'. I am
not trying to add millions of new words to the internet, Detective
Curtis, Lenny, and lovely gorgeous LOO!
So
I talked to Debbie about the very late and very illegal noise that
totally freagged up my attempts to go to sleep around one this
mouuuuuuuuuuurning, then went to the bank, where I had to park in a
farther away separate parking area as the bank lot was filled to the
rim brim and not with hot Joe or hot beach pigs from the sixties and
yet in the nineties, nor any Geico scummy creatures and
quintessentially stupid ass freaking television commercials. The
hologram in my local field of this simulation, or our so called
reality and universe in the hyperspace, is very dense and thick, or
an unusual amount of peeps are all over the place. A gorgeous 30 or
early thirtyish year old girl was staring me up and down in the
Publix store while walking to the check out line after finishing
acquiring all the items that I had gone there for. When I parked and
opened my door back at the building so that I could unload what I
bought and take it up to my west side sixth floor apartment, here at
my Public Housing building at 601 Avenue B in Fort Pierce, Florida; a
small loud and low airplane was up above me, close. The skies were
overcast and a slight on and off drizzle were the weather conditions
all over my area during my time out on personal errands. So no
ordinary plane can be stalking me through an overcast. Baxck in
Jersey, this happened with major regularity, and with patternized
precision clockwork if certain things were done by me to seemingly
freaking initiate this sick twisted behavior on the part of the
asshole WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES, Mister Hall and Mister Berrios, Olympic
runner and multilingual song translator, huh Resident Manager Nate in
1989 and 1990, and tapes left in Atlantic city that started the
original Golf War, or the actual first military actions known as
Desert
Shield,
followed later by the same initials of course, Donna's Desert
Storm!!!!!!!!!!!!
Our military and our secret Cove Agencies in our government, love to
code-name their projects, and it is not done by any means, in some
random or silly helter-skelter meaningless way. Nothing THEY do is
without a very good reason, even hating my poor pathetic miserable
little defenseless guts for decades and decades. 'OOOOOOOOOOOOOO',
yes, SSJKK, you say it the very same way at 2 and 3 that you do at 13
and 14, and the copyright office has all the tapes now, since last
July the third, as they had the other one back in 1988 when I sent
that for copyright as part of the project called, Epitome of
Harassment, Part 2, misspelled of course. This
is why the US © Office shows the letters [SIC] on both my Epitome of
Harassment projects, sent in 1989 and 1990,
so let me show you here by pasting it in from the Library of Congress
official records, WEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! OOOOOH and by the way, 'O'
with the long vowel sound, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Public Catalog |
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PLEASE
HELP ME, MIZZ BONDI, MY WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE ENEMIES ARE GOING TO KILL
ME, THIS IS NOT A JOKE OR A HOAX, MY SEVEN YEARS OF BLOGS CONTAIN
INDISPUTABLE MIRACLES THAT PROVE MY WORDS STAND TRUE AND HONEST,
MAHM.
THANK
YOU FOR DOING WHATEVER YOU CAN FOR ME, RON WIRTZ AT THE CCP OFFICE
IN NEW JERSEY WASTED YEARS OF MY TIME AND MADE ME A LOT OF EMPTY
PROMISES. MAYBE YOU WILL BE ABLE TO HELP ME TO GET TO THE BOTTOM OF
ALL OF THIS, MAYBE NOT. I HAVE PEOPLE AGAINST ME THAT ARE NOT
COMPLETELY HUMAN, AND I EVEN HAD EVIDENCE ONCE WHERE A MAN WITH A
REAL ESTATE LICENSE TOLD ME THIS WAS ALL TRUE AND HAPPENING TO ME
BACK IN 1988, A MAN NAMED SCOTT RANSOM OF TODD REALITY BACK IN 1988,
IN NEW JERSEY.
THANK
YOU IN ADVANCE FOR ANYTHING YOU MAY BE ABLE TO FIND OUT AND HELP ME
WITH, I AM NOT THE BAD GUY HERE, THEY ARE, AND HAVE DONE DISPICABLE
AND INHUMAN EVIL THINGS TO ME SINCE THE EIGHTIES. THEY ARE TORTURING
ME, THIS IS WORSE THAN BEING MURDERED, BECAUSE PEOPLE CAN ONLY KILL
YOU ONCE, MIZZ ATTORNEY GENERAL, WHEREAS WITH ME, THEY GO ON PUTTING
ME THROUGH A NEVER ENDING HELLFIRE THAT IS UNSPEAKABLE.
I
GO BY THE BLOG NAME OF MOUNTAINPEN, A.G. BONDI, AND AM ON BLOGGER
DOT COM. MY MUSIC ALSO TELLS MY LIFE STORY, A TINY BIT OF IT IS ON
THE YOUTUBE CHANNEL paulaking2011, AND A LOT MORE OF IT IS
COPYRIGHTED IN THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS UNDER MARK WAYNE MOHR, BORN
12/04/1954. I KNOW YOU WILL DO THE RIGHT THING HERE, MIZZ BONDI.
AGAIN, THANK YOU.
SAFE
JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO
BLOG
CHAPTER SJ-093
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2295
SBT-DATFILE:
031011.807.55555555 (MARCH 10, 2011) EVENING
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION:
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME:
SUBTITLE
#3: FOUR DAYS OF FUCKING CHEM-SIEGE:
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
I
guess this mother fucking major ass attack is not gonna fucking
terminate any time soon. This is now 4 STRAIGHT FUCKING DAYS OF
CHEMTRAIL ASSAULT, here and around the SAINT LUCIE COUNTY, HERE IN
SUNNY FLORIDA.
My
voice is fucking totally fucking shot, they ruined all my fucking
plans to sing on a vocal track today. It has been postponed. I am
tempted to sample U-MI, if you do not tell your bad boy there to
leave me alone, after-all, it is your song from SDJK that I'm doing.
I can do much better than back in 1984, this is 27 years later brown
eyes.
My
other island friend was there with her daughter today at my work
site, the Harvest, view them, and all of my readership can easily
view me as well, at www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/
and I always enjoy talking to the 'Huntingtonians', as they all call
themselves, after-all, my 7th Grand-pappy owned the
entire northern SCNY, the other Sarah Callio, huh
McGuire????????????
I
am hungry and tired as fucking hell, and will now eat and crash,
fuck the world. Diana let me the fuck down, lightning capitol
Florida, my fucking ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Who started this fucked
up lie-rumor aniwho, YO???????????????????? I now will END
TRANSMISSION, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
just where is all of this leading to, you may be wondering and
scratching out half your hair by now. Well sorry about the balding,
Belding and 'Saved by the Bell' crew; but I cannot give you answers
that I myself do not have. I saw more weird peeps that followed me
into GOODWILL today, as a result of so much recent stuff that took
place there. I know one thing. My entire family is one totally
screwed up bunch, along with all of their friends. There are no
exceptions. Still, I will always love both of my wild and wonderful
daughters, here, there, and everywhere. I am a fifth dimensional
man, the only one perhaps living amongst all of you. I see things
differently, Red Lobster, as you do food. Happy fishing.
COPYRIGHT
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2012, REWRITE FROM 1983 ALSO COPYRIGHTED UNDER TITLE
THEN, “GIRL, I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING”, NOW UNDER REWRITE TITLE OF
“YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER”
VERSE
ONE
I'm
so very happy for you, pales of fish so fresh and new
Let
me ask you really nicely, could you spare us just a few
Oh
my wife and kids are starving, could you help us make a stew
We're
down and out, and we will even go to work for you
You
seem to have about a dozen giant pales or two
I
am so weak and faint and do not wanna' be so blue
While
we slept inside the dunes, somebody stole my shoe
Oh
please kind sir, just take some pity, let us work for you
We'll
help in any way we can, and be your loyal crew
But
greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
And
I'm not giving any freaking fish away
VERSE
TWO
So
when you add your salty tears directly in the sea
And
when you're done your song of woe, that you have sung to me
Just
take your wife and kids, and jump right off this big jetty
And
right into the undertow, and stop annoying me
And
talking on and on and on, and bothering my fish
You
loud annoying bleeding hearts, that beg and cry and bitch
I
have lots of work to do, and buckets must be filled
So
either leave this jetty now, or someone might be killed
Guys
like me must catch our fish, like farmers fields get tilled
People
say I'm cold and cruel, on every single day
But
I have got a lot of freaking bills to pay
So
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
THREE
They
say the greatest mother lies there out beyond the sand
And
mothers can get angry when their kids are out of hand
Storms
blow out of nowhere and, a lot of folks have died
The
sea can give and take away, while many tears get cried
And
on one very special day, a greedy man was drowned
Ignoring
waves that swallowed rocks with heavy pounding sound
Just
another bucket and, then he'll have caught his fill
A
lot of daring fishermen forget the sea can kill
The
king fish of the jetty, just was never seen again
Yet
locals claim the winds still howl these words from fisher Ben
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
So
yes I have a lot of freaking bills to pay
And
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
FOUR
You'll
be crossing over, later wishing you'd been nicer
You'll
be crossing over, through the quantum waving splicer
You'll
be crossing over, hearing all the trash they're talking
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll have to keep on walking
You'll
be crossing over, watching all the others eating
Feasts
with banquet tables, where the fish keep on repeating
Forever
seeing many fish, but never on your plate
You
had your time back in the sun before you sealed your fate
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll be a lonesome rover
Forever
doomed to hear the words you always used to say
That
you've been working hard out in the sun all day
Oh
yes we knew you had your freaking bills to pay
So
you're not giving any of your fish away
END
OF SONG.
Yes
people, this will be a very interesting next few days. Why, you ask
me. Because any day of the year and every year of the STM, I could
make that true statement, folks. Every and any day I can say to you
all, this will be a very interesting next few days. I can repeat it
over and over again and it stays every bit as true as the first time
that I dared to utter it. this will be a very interesting next few
days. this will be a very interesting next few days. this will be a
very interesting next few days. this will be a very interesting next
few days. this will be a very interesting next few days. this will
be a very interesting next few days. this will be a very interesting
next few days. this will be a very interesting next few days. this
will be a very interesting next few days. this will be a very
interesting next few days.
Well
wabbit, time for me to enjoy some relaxation and some brunch. It is
just past two this afternnon, and is coolish next to what the
weekend was by this time, holding 74 with high humidity that makes
it feel nearly 80 or so says WEATHER-BUG. Ask me, and I'll so say,
IT FEELS 130 FREAKING DEGREES, PEOPLE. Have a very nice day folks,
'I'll be bahk', Sir Governor distant distant
cuzz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW
WHAT A HOT WEEKEND HERE IN FLORIDA, PEEPS. Oh well, it will cool
down in 9 months, when late December rolls around,
WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW,
the world sucks. I had to pay $42,000.00 for something that made no
sense whatsoever in my exploratron travels last night. Does this fit
somehow, into how I recently had, by pure random chance, of me
purchasing a blank VHS video tape, at the local Good-Will Store,
here in town; and learning through an unbelievable set of wild
happenstances, that I am David's fifth cousin four times removed,
off of the MYERS line, despite his not knowing who they sprang off
from in one of several lines, the Gottwald's, who I jokingly refer
to as the Gozzwald's or Ozzwalds, on these blogs; you might be
wondering. Well before getting into this topic of today's blog.
There are a lot of doors in the hallway that are freaking banging
away today; and my noisy nabes are a real pain in my twat! Still, as
winter rapidly turns to summer here in the oven state of sunshine
and phony lightning capitols; folks are folks, and they tend to get
noisier in hotter weather. Me, I turn my air conditioning unit down
as low as I can without my Chemtrailitis making me cough my lungs
out, normally 75-79 by day and about 80 by night, if I go lower, the
coughing attacks get nasty. Aniwho, screw these unpleasant asshole
neighbors, let me get on with the story of Cousin David Clean Hands
and his coming in 2010 with his pal Darius Evans, to the Harvest
Food Outreach place where I worked, and both became my bosses. At
this place, young peeps are liked, and us old mother fuckers are not
so much liked. This is the way of the world for the most of it
everywhere, but it was especially noticeable up there at that shit
hole toilet, and you can look them up at this website:
http://www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/
so click and enjoy, then hit your backspace button and count to
five, and you will be right back at this exact spot where you
clicked. DUH-HYUNDAI CARS.
Luckily
for freaking me, things are not a lot worse because finding out this
incredible shit over the past ten days and slowly piecing it all
together would normally cause me a lot more than nightmares of owing
42 grand and store employees crashing into and wrecking my vehicle,
and shit here at home with noisy nabes. I actually have got off
lucky, as this has placed me light frikkin' years ahead in my
struggles to deal with DAWF-MILI-2-FORCE or also known as, HALLS
INTERGALACTIC GARY-FAWCES, ''whatever'', Congressman,
before you were the Congressman, back in my kick-ass year of 1975;
in where else but the great beaches of what is now HILTON BEACH OF
ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY. You really do have to love the power of
the constant, and yes I was MIND-HACKED, I meant to say the word
like, not light, but my deeper mind that was speaking about the
constant, spoke through me and left me to robotically type in the
incorrect word on my previous blog, WOW, Daniel Mackey.
Warren,
Boo, Darius, and David; Jeese-Louise, what a
MOTLEY CREW!!!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho folks, his mother, my C-4-R-4,
(fourth cousin four times removed) all stemming from my mom's first
cousin Ruth Huntington who married Heinz Gottwald, who gave birth to
five children, three boys and two girls, the oldest girl and not the
oldest child, being Christine, the girl Jimmy Dean fell for and was
making out with in 1975, on Uncle Heinz's ketch, during a sailing
boat trip that my mom went on, while I was getting the crap beat out
of me in Atlantic City that day with two monster freaking lifeguard
mascots, twice my pathetic puny wimpy flabby little 20 year old
size. Enough to make you grow up and not be a boy any more, on the
advice of Dan Mackey, my old FCC wormhole pal, Bobby
MCD???????????????????? See how things all prove my story comes out
true, folks, are you blinder than a cane itself???????????????
La-Da-Da-Da, my attorneys won't even bother contacting a soul. I am
way too old and tired to give one rotten pale of stinky shit on the
local jetty, Governor Fruit. Wow, the hollering and doors is pretty
intense today, but last night, even thought they were quiet, I tried
getting up yo my site at Blogger to view my own blog as I do upon
occasion, and was major hacked, BOB-FCC, old Fort Wayne, Indiana
friend, YO! I was hacked out of my Comcast E-MAIL page, then I could
not get up on the net at all, and then, wild screens popped up all
over the place, and it was like I was mother flowering back in the
1997 Somerdale death house, with Fred and Craig, the two RADIO SHACK
EMPLOYEES who came over to help me with my computer that evening one
summer day. I doubt this was the famous summer's night of the
fifties that caused that lovely ballad song to spring forth,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!! Still, this would all be enough to
make James Redfield, the great father of the NEW AGE, ejaculate
right into his freaking shorts without even looking at some photo of
a lovely naked model. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
Now
obviously, my 4-4 cuzz, David's mom, who I met several times AT THE
HARVEST, a gorgeous woman may I add; must have somehow learned
locally by having someone, after following me and learning of my
errand habits, to the Good-Will; knowing I look for blank VHS video
tapes there, and placed the blank video herself, into the pile;
after seeing I was already on the way over. Remember, this is the
age of cellphones, and everybody can play James Bond. The local
novelty shops can legally sell all sorts of spy equipment to any
unlicensed, and non-private investigator; and all sorts of things
can be done; as ADA Ron Wirtz Senior taught me; and this was all
around 2 solid ass freaking decades back into time; so think by now
what folks can do, that have the know how!!!!!???????????????????
This was all a wild super PARLOR TRICK, as was the Cifaloglio
magazine with MY at the Empire State Building around the time of her
twentieth high school reunion in OHM-8, and the auto-reverse
cassette deck in my car playing that karaoke flip side version with
the 'MY' on it before the start of my 1986 song, ''REAL
GOOD GIRL''. I'll highlight it now in light pink.
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I
want to thank you my friend Ken Mascara, Sheriff of Saint Lucie
County, you are a wonderful fine gentleman. If you can do anything
today and this weekend for me, to protect me from these Wall Street
dirt bags, my hat would really be off to you, kind sir.
TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ANSWERING
THE QUESTIONS ASKED BY BRAVE SOULS.
Yes
the trillion things that pertain to my past, and boyhood, Misses
Marola, 1969,
and so much more; No
I do not keep track any more;
not
of this, or anything else that is major frikkin' depressing. Who
needs shit that depresses the hell out you??????
NOW
WE HAVE WALKED THE COURSE, AND SEEN HOW THINGS DO NOT MAGICALLY
CHANGE; BUT THAT VIA EXPLORATRONIC DEVELOPMENTS, FIFTH DIMENSIONAL
ENERGY IS WHAT ACTUALLY INTERCHANGES AND FORMS DISPLACEMENTS. BUT IT
GETS WAY BETTER THAN THIS!!!
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
my pal, Seabottom, I hope you had a lot merrier a holiday than I did,
but as you know from studying me and my blog texts year after year, a
toad in a hot cooking pan is enjoying himself more than I freaking
am. Oh well, why moan and bitch. Still, friend, I hope you do see
that ever since I asked you if you had any of my music and might send
it to me electronically someday, and if you have the Venezuelan
Flower Song from 1980, ALL HELL CUBED BROKE LOOSE ON ME FROM THE
WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES. Yes friend, I do not live in any one time, and I
know you already told me you have none of my stuff. Hang in there old
friend, just as us Huntington's have been doing for a very very very
long INGRID-84-TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU
MISSED ME JANE WHORE, HA-HA-AHA-AHA-AHA MCNULTY SLUT.
Water-witch,
CALLI-KALI-CALL
TEN CALLIO, and your wonderful pal Bob McGuire,
controllers of one third of the triangulation;
I know you are always there, and only care about
destroying everything totally
and absolutely that is any part of me and my life. The why to this is
the same why to anything and everything, even hand washing David and
his relatives from Smithtown, New York on their worst weekend ever on
11 May of crummy '95, a year I relate quite well to myself, and every
weekend was lousy. As for John and Nick, and lovely sis, this is a
lot like colony 256 and other colonies when cosmanet is operational,
or as Lieutenant Ouhora puts it quite well in the original Star Trek
shows, ''subspace chatter'', first popping into reality as chat rooms
on the world wide web, later to become the Swis System, and still
later, President Lincoln sir, taped or digital music being recreated
and not live; comes the Pratt Cloud. What I do not understand is why
two things I am unable to find in Washington in my files. One is
Dancing in the Ocean or the original part one epitome Of Harassment
project, and the other is THE PERMISSION BARRIER. Hopefully, these
projects have not gone the way of Summer of Love 2000 or billy Harner
2000 or whatever the dumb thing was called before it was made to go
away, right Mister McCoy? Let me take a quick hand wash break now
folks, and I'll be back. SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!
COURTESY
OF THE WEATHER BUG!!!
Weather
Map is courtesy of CHANNEL 12
local South Florida TV.
Note: The
image above may not reflect the current alert state for your county
due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the alert and
the map processing.
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Advisory
Colors Key
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Winter
Storm Watch
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Flood
Warning
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DUH,
I wonder why my hands are still unclean, Jesus Carpenter. Oh that's
right, it is the inside of humankind that needs the cleansing, as you
said, oh great uncle-63!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
As
for Colony Quna, and Colony 256, and disability, and psychiatrists
who heard some small bit of my story back in 1994, you're not the
only one depressed Nick. That's one hell of a monster stereo, you and
wall banger Frank Callio have put together. Jesus Christmas Trees.
Now
coming down to Earth and landing for a little while, Misses Estelle
Anderson Bassler of Ormond Beach, Florida, USA-ESMWG; thank you for
expanding my horizons in 1997 about State College, Pennsylvania. Did
you all ready Lenny McKinnon know, that all those troubles were going
to follow, and if so, where was your wonderful transdimensional
bulldozer machine, when Walmart and all voice-mails and all
Andres-whatever's, really needed you, sweetie pie?????????????????
WHAAAAAA!
GET
OUT OF MY MOTHER FUCKING MOUSE, OR I'll BLOW UP YOUR HOUSE, HACKER. I
MAY BNOT KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE, BUT MAGGIE KFP DOES, AND ASK SCARED
LENNY ABOUT JAMMED GATES AND MY LIZ MONTGOMERY POP IN POWERS, YO YO
YO YO YO, HELL CHRIST WONDER AVENUE OF BLACKWEIRD, NEW JERSEY.
Sat
Nurine of wide taxi turns, and special friendships with magical
exploring ladies, whose street name I only knew as PAULA KING, let me
advise you that I accept your offer to join the ESS. The next move is
yours.
Shades of my Echelon-Towers Building, or Ventnor dreams, and
other ''alien abduction experiences'' shared around the
planet''???WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh the gods, my message
would be heard the loudest and remembered the longest, if told
through music, right old pal Mister Plato? I suppose they had to
beware the tide that brought that message. Now stuff is beginning to
pop into freaking place as days go by. TIME TRAVEL IS 100% GOING ON!
Oh by gash by golly, what did you do to me, Misses gorgeous Marola?
Yes shortly after meeting the great one, Sarah Jacobson, at
Cooley-Wormhole Hall in the very early nineteen- seventies; came the
parallel universe experience where I saw the great awesome Christmas
Tree Angel in the lobby of the building, singing the song we all know
and love, that is aired by her still every holiday season. The
problem is she was two years old then. This is why the government
knows it is better for the general population to just go and wash
their hands of all of this stuff and live regular normal lives and
let them handle the situation. Actually, this is not something that
this blogger disagrees with one bit, President Obama, kind sir. Just
in case you wanted to know where I stood, sir. Yes
dear world, we all have opinions and this makes the world go round,
or so they say, and on top of that, here is
the opinion of the WFMU’s
Beware of the Blog.
OH YES, BY ALL MEANS, WATCH OUT FOR THAT HORRIBLE MARK WAYNE MOHR.
WHAT A MONSTER.
At
the risk of being pigeonholed as the Girl
Who Writes About Crazy Cursing Dudes, I bring you Mark from New
Jersey. Mark has far-ranging theories on time travel, Armageddon,
roulette and Donna Summer (the DEVIL!), which he angrily discusses in
various telephone conversations. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,
whatever you say, darlin'.
(PHOTOS) Human Brain, courtesy of the National Geographic Society.
IT
DOES NOT TAKE A REAL BIG ONE OF THOSE TO KNOW THAT MARK WAYNE MOHR
HAS SUFFERED THROUGH A NIGHTMARE FOR A VERY VERY VERY LONG TIME,
LOVELY INGRID FROM GOOD OLD
1984!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In
blogs I have done over the past eight years now; quite a small feet
if I may say so myself, good folks; I have discussed the FASCITAR,
and told a small bit of this ancient ultra secret set of paranormal
instructions, for proving to anyone; that atheists are all wrong
about nothing being ''beyond'' this so called waking and mortal life.
I do not make this judgment call, so don't come at me with sticks and
stones and knives and guns, please. The Fascitar makes this claim,
and then goes on to verify its claim, to anyone who has the fucking
balls to properly use it, and thus see it all for themselves. I do
not plan on rehashing any of these instructions or even reiterating
what it is all about, not here on this blog, as that is not a part of
the point that this writing will be trying to make. All I want said
about it is that is more secret than anything else kept and called a
secret, and that if released into the general population, it would be
a matter of only a short space of time, that all of humankind and its
organized power structure large religions, would dissolve away and be
exposed for the total frauds they are, in a nutshell, being there to
give hope to those who fear death and hell, the hell part created by
them to generate that fear, and other things time prevents me from
detailing on this particular writing. But it is all there, if anyone
should have the desire and the time, to archive my blogs that show
up, these current ones, and then on this current one, on many of
these blogs, I show the BIO-PAGE, where you can click next to any of
five bullets that name my five original blogs, on BLOGGER DOT COM,
beginning in January of 2006. This appears right next to a normally
larger font made by me, area, saying' ''MY
BLOGS''. Now we move this along to part two of four which is
the JACOBSON, and also known in
my blog texts and writings since the near beginning of them, as SARAH
JACOBSON; from the New Jersey Rehab System
of Camden, New Jersey, and who attended the REHAB CLASS,
in the same special education school that I went to, on Hopkins Lane,
in Haddonfield, New Jersey; back as the nineteen-seventies began to
come into the scene, replacing the love/hate sixties' truly known in
all of its mysterious numerous ways, by only those who were there to
live and experience these wild times.
Sarah
Jacobson was not an ordinary girl by any stretch of anybody's
imagination. She was extremely lovely with long dark hair, extremely
tall, unfathomably physically strong, the coolest personality in the
world, and seemed to have advance knowledge of future events, as did
some others in this lace just a short while back, coming to mind
first and foremost, is Misses Marola, who knew the way the first ten
years of the following century were going to be pronounced, while
nobody else seemed to, and other stuff is just as suspect as well,
leading me to the conclusion that right after she was suddenly gone,
her replacement as a younger self was immediate, the JACOBSON.
Without boring anyone to tears and back, all the way to Christmas of
twenty-seventeen or so, I'll abridge, compress, and transform what
comes next, into a real short and sweet little ditty of words that
tell what needs to be told, without any of the fat or window
dressing. It will be thinned out to anorexic proportions, but you
will get the connections, if you want to, and if you really are
trying to, good peeps.
Misses
Marola insisted that I do something, not on school time, and where
she did not have the authority to be so ultimately relentless with me
against my will, but did it anyway, and it all led me to be at a
place at a totally different time on May the Thirtieth of 1969, in
Atlantic City, New Jersey, than would have been the case if she had
not forced this issue, and this event, altered the course of my life,
and many many lives around the world to this very day. All
major events that pertain to the story of Mountainpen and morianity,
and MARK WAYNE MOHR, seem to be on and occur on A
LEGAL UNITED STATES HOLIDAY. This goes quite a bit beyond
mere happenstance or coincidence. You may insist on disagreeing with
me, and as I said many times, I am willing to fight and die on any
battlefield in this world, for your right to indeed do so, stupid as
disagreeing with me about all these things possibly being
coincidental, may be.
Now
this was a teacher in this special education school, and she was my
teacher, from early middle February through late into June, back in
1969. Once she did her job, knowing already that my days with Sarah
on Tennessee Avenue were winding down on this last summer of running
into her, somehow, but she knew it, believe that; this is when on the
following spring in 1970, my encounter with the great next paranormal
person to come into my life, indeed happened, the JACOBSON. I am not
at liberty to tell all that I want to here. The world simply is not
ready to accept so much. After all I went through with all of this,
even I am light years away from understanding and appreciating the
full scope of this big-picture story happening all around me and even
still to this very day, so how the devil can I in good conscience
expect anyone else to GET IT?
Still,
SHE HAPPENED, and it was very major. She did things to me both while
I was awake and asleep, that both Sarah from Tennessee Avenue did to
me, and way up in my adult life, her newest persona has done,
beginning in 1997 and then going on a lull for a while until a full
11 years ticked by past then. Only so much more connects all of this
that volume sized encyclopedias would never contain it in proper
elucidated details that would not leave any kind of blanks or skips
in this awesome and inconceivable story. Now, and since 1980, I no
longer have one paranormal, but two paranormal ''people'' that mess
with me, when the mood strikes them, despite my recent best attempts
to distance myself totally away from them. And the coincidental thing
pops right up again, as when I get the next phase or 3 of 4, the
TRUMP, he does the very same
thing, by stuff he did and bought, that made the few things I used to
enjoy in my rotten life, all turn into total pig crap at the speed of
light, such as buying up all the pageants of beauty queens, and along
these lines, and there are many others, way too numerous to get into,
on this text here today. On top of these interconnecting items that
few have the psychic energy or PERCEPTION
to properly even begin to see, or 'spiritually
visualize' so to speak; is the way an entire life can be seen
if you stand back away from it as a totally neutral observing
outsider; and watch what I jokingly now call, ''HALLS FAWCES'',
working through an entire huge operation, that makes things all
happen, no matter how incredibly hard one might try and fight against
it, it is exactly like swimming against a rip tide on steroids, and
being four years old, and who had just been taught to swim a day or
two ago.
Now
speaking of invader Phase-4 entity TRUMP, not the brain or body; but
the 'HIM' that is inside of it, that no surgeon could ever cut open,
and then so much as hope to witness or observe or measure in any
meaningful way, not yet with today's teck, right Professor
SCI-CH-KAKU?, but yes, speaking of this wild dude who influenced me
to create him on a 1980 open reel semi-pro mastering machine called
the RS-1500-US tape recording machine, where would I even think of
starting? I could type for a year, and not tell it all, so why even
begin such a futile time wasting energy wasting endeavor? I won't.
BUTT, it is time to draw the connecting FAWCES of mister Hall, into
these three items, FASCITAR, JACOBSON, TRUMP. This item is called the
electromagnetic spectrum. Again, I will shorten a quick lecture about
all of this to get a few of my smarter readers really thinking and
maybe drooling on their shoes; but that is all I can do. It would
take lifetimes to try and explain the life that I have already lived,
and just as me, in three dimensions, as Mark Wayne Mohr. I could give
all of you the accepted scientific explanation first off of just what
really, this mysterious sounding item is all about, the EM spectrum,
but that is for the birds. That won't cut any mustard is so far as my
attempt to connect it up to these other three items, not that
anything will, but old gambler me, as many of you already know;
always plays the odds, or said perhaps somewhat more accurately,
tries to pick and choose the very best odds, in all of life's many
situations.
Yes
there is a line that stretches very far to the left and to the right,
and has a speck in the middle called VL (Visible Light). It is just a
fancy scale that measures how quickly things vibrate. Vibration gives
off heat, more of it gives off light, still more gives off many types
of invisible light rays and waves. But telling you this would get me
an A on a term paper in college, for the best down to Earth and
compressed explanation of this subject, and getting an a in some
hypothetical college, is not what this blog is about by a long shot
and a half, so I'll move on and finish my dissertation. Folks, in the
world of the subatomic where nothing is anywhere near the size of an
atom, the rules that govern the physicality of things also are not
the same as those that govern in post atom sized realities. These
rules, laws, or anything you wish to think of them as, are very real,
and they do not bend and are indeed inviolate. Nobody breaks the laws
of anything, from all the basic engineering principles, to
hydrodynamics to aerodynamics, and on and on, it is not going to
happen. As technology improves, and life appears to be breaking the
laws of physics to some degree here and there, you need to see this
as another one of life's so many great parlor illusions. In truth an
honesty, when things around us advance and improve, it is because the
collective mind has not figured out ways to BREAK the LAWS that
govern our world, but because it has figured out ways to interact
MORE EFFICIENTLY within these laws that govern our world. In a real
nutshell with volumes of potential text removed; all I'm saying my
peeps, is this. This smaller realm of what the men and women of
science call ''sub-atomic', or the ASTRAL PLANE, is a reflectional
image of what this realm then goes onto create. It does this creating
by a process that is quite natural, but not to the scientist. The
entities of this realm, DREAM-DOWN into hyperspace mortal world
existences. They lose energy through numerous interactions, and the
way it is regenerated is to sleep and dream, the very opposite of how
humans on Earth think of their human lives and falling asleep and
dreaming every so many hours when they wear out for the day, and need
a recharge. But coming from this realm, where forces are beyond
mysterious; and where there is no space-time-mind as there is here in
the fifth dimensional hyperspace, of all these many parallel
universes, such as the one we live in right now and I am blogging
this message out to all of you; is the true magic of every single
thing that happens while here and supposedly awake in this mortal
realm on the planet called Earth. All the connections to all the
things in my life, your life, our lives, the whole Mexican 27 foot
Pizza pie; is because of very strange and
spooky forces; to quote the great pal of my dad, sir
Professor Einstein of Princeton university in a place called
Roddenberry New Jersey McNulty Laugh time; and to give you all the
grand finale' here, parallel universes indeed can effect and rub into
each other electromagnetically, and do; every time electrical energy
and humans connect together; but there is no way in these hyperspace
dream-downs, to effect the locale where we dream off of or FROM, the
subatomic reflections of us, AKA the ASTRAL PLANE. If you are looking
for details of just what happened on the Astral plane, that caused
the Briggbase to all get together in an unconscious way and do all
the stuff that they do, or even for me to quickly sum up an
intelligible way for you to understand powerful wild things in my
human current lifetime (dream-down) resulting from Astral-Plane or
subatomic interactions, well; you sadly deluded yourself at the
beginning of my blog. Common sense tells you that I can open doors
and walk you through a million trillion things and endlessly expand
and tell infinitely more stuff, but those looking for a worldly type
of accurate Google-road-map to pop up somewhere, in any way, shape,
or form, is most likely the King or the Queen of the Eternal Optimist
Club of the World (EOCW), and would be loved madly, by the girl who
in 2008, I nicknamed, ''TWINBAY'',
from where else but Egg Harbor Township.
I
will keep telling stuff, there is an infinite supply. Just don't
expect a perfect wonderful Google Map, hell, I could have used one
that day that I took Chicky's dam brothers to the JFK Airport.
*****THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:*****
AHA
AHA AH AHA MIKE MCNULTY, YEAH, DEAL WITH IT, YOU KNOW WHAT'S GETTING
SAID PARTNER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DID A FEW MEASLEY DECADES WIPE YOUR
MEMORIES OUT LIKE A MCGUIRE MAGIC LEPRAWAND?????????
''THE
FASCITAR, THE JACOBSON, THE DONALD; AND THE WORLD OF THE
ELECTROMAGNETIC SPECTRUM'', AND THEN THERE CAME MY INVITE TO JOIN THE
ESS ON THE FINAL 2014 DAY OF WINTER, BIG ASS WOW, JOANNE, FROM 1979.
Before I remembered it all, you were my first. Then came the
memories, Barbara, both Barbara's, no electric shocks dock!
RIGHT
TAXI DRIVER KAREN GRASSI?”
SUBTITLED,
PART TWO OF DA CONTRASTS BLOG, MMCN-71
Well
peeps, TODAY WAS A NICE MOTHER FUCKING
BOTBAR, but not just any fucking botbar. IT WAS MY 100TH
BOTBAR FOR 2013, AND BILLY AND SALLY, YO; “THAT'S SAYIN'
SOMETHING”. I won't lie and say I have not been given my share of
good advice from the rock stars of the world because I am not a
fucking liar, Captain 1981 Crawford, sir. Billy's advice to me about
staying to myself, was pitch fucking ass perfect, 100% of the cent,
speaking of vocalists such as him and a slew of others along my great
lengthy pathway through STM!
Peeps,
before I move along, I will draw you an updated fucking picture of
November-2013 MPB remember this is short abbreviated for MAGNETIC
PERCENTAGE BOTBAR!!!!!!!!!!!!! REMEMBER THOSE HORRIBLE TIMES, GOOD
PEEPS???????????????????
Where
this blog takes us next will be something ENEMIES do not want to
fucking deal fucking with, I promise, lovely MO. Hacking is getting
worse, Bob. I was never planning to go to places I now will be going,
because my mother fucking life is totally on the cock sucking line
with these horrible monster fucking bastards. They leave me no
choice, as Barney said to that lovely blond on that great TV show
from long back, ''DARK SHADOWS''. And then the clock went
tickatee-tock, and now we are here with a jeer and a sneer. I did not
want to get this far into my life, and there is so much yet to tell,
because time is moving along with me telling my past. Theoretically,
it never ever ends!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAAA.
Yes,
I officially accept the invite for membership in the ESS. When
finalized, I'll be subject to your regulations and will not do
anything to compromise my situation. I await your response.
JANE
FUCKING WHORE JUST GOT ME WITH PAGE ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN OF ONE HUNDRED
ELEVEN, SO ALLOW ME PWEEEEEEEEZE TO CUNT PHLEGM RAPE COMPENSATE,
TANKS YO!!!!!!!!!!
HOW
DO YOU KNOW WHEN YOU ARE REAL IMPORTANT TO THE OWNERS OF A PLANET?
SEMPLE SIMPLE HENRY SCHOOLSHOOTER. TWO LITTLE STEPS. 1) WHEN THEY
NEED TO FUCK WITH YOU ON HOLIDAYS AND WOULD RATHER BE DOING THAT THAN
SPENDING TIME WITH THEIR CUNT LAPPING MISDERABLE FAMILIES ON THESE
FESTIVE OCCASIONS. 2) THINGS LIKE WE-TV AND THE L&O SHOW, AND
THESE TYPE OF FUCKING THINGS HAPPENING WITH MAJOR FUCKING REGULARITY,
YEAR IN AND YEAR OUT, DECADE IN AND DECADE OUT.
Show
me a need for a number 3, 4, 5, and so forth, and I'll show you a
fucking total moron. Disagree with me after all of this mother
fucking crap, and I'll show you a moron ion fucking cunt steroids, YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:
