Sunday, July 6, 2014

MOVING TOWARDS THE 15 YEAR, CHAPTER 022


















MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3















MOVING TOWARDS THE 15 YEAR



CHAPTER 022









I will be as short as possible in things besides my physical height. First, my dirt ball ESS NABE GUEST DOOR SLAMMER, was quite annoying on the fucking cunt lapping fifth of July, all day long. Holiday weekend, so what the fuck else is cock licking new for poor old mother fucking loser persecuted fucked with pathetic me???????????????????????

























































When I was last ''asleep'', I found myself in the torment of the 2008-2009 SK, which can have initials for quite a lot of interesting things, but I use it right now for STOCKHOLM SYNDROME KIDNAPPING. This world wants me to believe I am crazy, but too much evidence in the world, David Leigh 1970 Smith Blackboards, supports my NOT believing this, not for one rotten lousy mother fucking cunt chewing second!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







1997 was a very powerful year for me, every bit as powerful as other powerful ones, but I only began to recognize this in very recent times, my second half of my life here in miserable fucking hot dick eating Florida, if you want to be technical about it. Dawn in a very localized parallel universe was continuing her diatribe with me, about the Bratt-Roberts connection, as she did in this universe, and telling me she knows way more than I could imagine about this. I know why as of the fifth of god dam ass July up here in 2014. She had rummaged through a bag of my cassette tapes in this wild experience last night, and found my tape from 1984 that I used to make that © 2013 project, “You'll Be Crossing Over”. The inescapable unforgettable 7-12 digits. OH CRAP!





If you think I am going to get real heavy tonight into this, forget it. Before I left the house owned by FBI AGENT, STEVE CARUSO; of Austin, Texas; in Hammonton, New Jersey, in middle December of 2009; I grabbed one of two large bags filled with cassette audio tapes, and I grabbed the one I did not want to grab. But if I had grabbed th eother one, none of the music that I did down here in Florida would have ever come to exist. Why is this important I know many are asking and laughing over? Well, why does the DOW JONES, a world market, move in a precise steady continual unrelenting way, totally concentric from my life, day after day for nearly thirty mother fucking years? If I was not some center of god dam shit, none of this fuckiGN shut would be one bit important. Unfortunately, this is not the case. SLAM-SLAM-SLAM, still these fucking assholes go on with these cunt sucking doors, at 2:48 this hammer milf morning of the sixth of cunt chewing stink-rag July. The resident manager knows it is all being done to me by New York City powers. She practically admitted to the entire deal, but very cleverly. Crime stoppers, the building guards, the afternoon bingo games in the recereation area, they are all one big fucking dirt bag party of skunks, and they do what they're told, or fuckiGN else, and the cops want no part of it, as they used to come here and have annual tenant meetings, and then BOOM, it all suddenly stopped after the assault on me here all began with Mister dirt bag sub-woofers. As I pen this right now, I am being struck not only with noise siege, but a major nasty mother fucking health attack, and must go shit my cunt sucking guts out. I'll be bahk, Governor Washclothclan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, the police. Now all that is needed is a 74 World Penetrater Machine, my daughter PEE, and a movie director murderer on the loose; huh Dawn?





The EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY gets in with entire towns, neighborhoods, areas, institutions, and individuals. There is nothing this advanced bunch of mother fucking whack jobs can't pull off. They are the future of trillions of fairly localized parallel universes, all banded together. Trhey don't physically fucking travel from there to here, that is impossible. It is all done through what dummies in past times, simply think of as DREAMS. Pitiful, totally fucking pitiful, this entire mother fuckiGN bullshit, Adam Schiff and 'YOU PUT ME IN HELL' ANDERTON!!!!!!!!!!!!! We don't need any hotels or houses or boats catching fire, let alone early married life first houses, right “UNCLE” Heinz Gottwald? Hay Mizz Leo, ya' fucking wanna' cut me a dam break, honey cakes?





The very first time that I had my paranormal exploratron attack, was in a classroom in first grade towards the end of the school year, in Miss Mulhall's class. Then it went on from there. Here and there, over and over. At first, I did not know any more than any of you who might be reading this blog right now. But you don't stay fucking dumb forever, when surrounded by shit the size of Mount fucking Everest, I Taren-tee-you that one, Mister Foreman and mister Gandhi, speaking of goddess help me, 1997!







Yes sir/ma'am, I can hear the shit louder and louder with every fucking tick of the clock, with or without 113 shiny bright Caldor fuckiGN department stores that no longer are in operation. Anyone reading the blog just since it became the fucking NEW BLOG in late 2011; and cannot see the quantum dynamics involved in my life story, is blinder than a moonless overcast midnight sky!





Dawn said to me last night in that parallel universe, “I belong to them and can never get away”. Where is the Christians pitched fork horned devil when you need him, Jason WFMU Forrest? Pray tell me the answer to that one, or this one, but in any case, yes Dawn-Marie, as you said so well to me, “Try getting out of this one”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don't need to be George fucking Clooney to know when I took my car down to South Atlantic City, just three blocks from Estelle Bassler's place back in the early fuckiGN seventies, 30 South Plaza Place, to watch the big December storm in 1993; he stuck something in my gas cap and broke it inside of it, almost destroying my life, before doing it a second time in 2006 with another car. This Irish Mick fucking scum wrecked two of my automobiles, and got scott free away with it. I did not know McGuire, so how did he know me. I was three years away from contacting the Callio's about my past with their family in the nineteen-sixties. Well, they all know me in lots of parallel universes. Actually this would be happening in universes where these same people are living their lives in more advanced time periods; where the 'ESS' is known about, and called; whatever each parallel universe future time, calls their own ESS, as this could fucking be hurl-juice-incorporated for all I know. What is really in a name, Misses Rose Shakespeare?





Now I wish to advance things just a little, and I mean a little; as I am now cracking open the window about an inch; and no more. Later on in another blog, I'll get major specific. For now, Trump, McGuire, Callio, even Mariah; it is not the person living here that I am dealing with, at least for the most part; as they cannot be totally without some knowledge of how they have all been used by their doppelgangers in al of this for years and years. Still, I am mostly dealing with these people's doubles. My first experiences with all of them in late June of 1970, was in those horrible nightmare dreams in Ventnor, New Jersey; SLAM-SLAM-SLAM AT AFTER FUCKING FOUR IN THE MORNING, SHERIFF MASCARA, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You see Sheriff, it is not them, it is their doubles in the ESS, doing this, operating through them, and is why old religions began conceiving the idea of demonic possession. The ESS is what is really happening, not some spiritual hocus fuckiGN pocus. But back on point here, they do not know how this all started any more than I do, but their fuckiGN doubles from hyperspace sure do. Well, JANE FUCKING WHORE WITCH BITCH just got me again, with page cunt chewing eleven of eleven. Time to cunt phlegm rape with some nice cock sucking number fives!







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Don't even get me mother fucking started with those yesterday jerk offs like Tracy Ullman and Chris 501 Blues Blum, great folks, and whoever/whatever is really out here, right SSJKK-ISIS?




Robin Hill Apartments

2011 Preston Avenue, Voorhees, NJ, 08043

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Robin Hill Apartments

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Apartment, 208 units 331 Preston Avenue Apt.2011, Voorhees NJ 08043 Map $989-$1279 1-2 Bed Cats OK

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Robin Hill Apartments - Voorhees, New Jersey 08043
Photo 1 of 10





I was living at 506 Robin Hill, during the time of Ingrid, and these other two idiots, as well as the poison fake cigarette trick that my mom and I played on the Otammic forces against me. But those Otammic forces were just the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY, and not some magical caldron stirring bunch of witches. When I said 30 and 40 years ago that God and all the stuff that created this entire creation is no more than a bunch of super high technology; I was scoffed and laughed at. Now, no one gives one bit of credit to me; yet all of the educational channels are copying my words, just about verbatim. Go cunt lapping figure, BRAH!





I am opening this new book-blog up by telling whoever is real out here, a few vely intelesting McDowell things, making no bones about any of it, and holding back no wrestling holds whatsoever, Jesse and Salvador of 1965 and 1983. Forgive my typo please, a few blogs back, I typed in 1893, and of course meant to type in 1983. So a double dumb ass on me, huh Captain Kirkwhales?





For a couple of weeks in middle spring, give or take, the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE did not assault my body and create my ever worsening chemtrail-asthma, but for the past week now and since the DOW JONES HAS GONE RIGHT CUNT LAPPING FUCKING BACK TO MAKING ALL TIME RECORD HIGHS, AGAIN; the chemtrail-asthma has also come back on me real bad. These people are murdering me, and they WILL mother fucking cunt lapping get totally away with it, because I only have the rights that I can defend. Tonight, again, they blew my bowels away, and I took a horrendous mother fuckiGN shit.







Now there is the society (ESS) and then there is the CLUB, a lower power structure, yet an entity of its own, a thing with a position in so-called reality, and this entity needs to be quickly explored, now that this other shit is going to start coming out as blog follows blog, and I really honestly indeed do begin to get quite dangerously specific about how the ESS works on a real live two way street, and not just seeing it as one way or the other way, and also; how the towel inception process of hyper-dimensionality seeps from one reality, into many of the surrounding others. So first off, and to end this part of shit for today, we can always wonder if one of our doubles is in us and controlling us at any moment, and the warning bells should begin ringing whenever we appear to be doing things that could remotely lead us to say to ourselves later, ''Gee, why did I act that way, or do this thing, and not say that thing, etcetera, etcetera''? This is defensive ESS tactics. Going on the offensive means you need to create base points at times where dream-control is possible with very little practice, normally, half way through a normal person's full sleep time cycle. You establish doubles in other worlds where you then begin to control them enough so as to be alive in these alternate realities, and are able to effect things, an din time, I will show how if the hyperspace is extremely localized; you can do things in one reality and leave your double to suffer the consequences, while you dream-flash back to your bed in this reality, knowing all the while, that things are set into motion so that even over here, things will begin to slowly bleed-through to here, from what you did over there. But this now leads me to tell you about the true and absolute GWPO SYNDROME. The powerful clubs right here in this ordinary waking world reality, all of those who the world measures as extremely successful individuals; have a secret and you will never guess what this is, and I am going to tell you, and you won't most likely believe me, because of one simple reason; I am not a success. Still, I know a lot of mother fucking sick twisted secrets, and have the dam goods on a million powerful successful peeps, down to the nth degree. Peeps in the, 'I MADE IT TO THE TOP CLUB' or the IMITTT-CLUB, all know that they only are there, because they were 'LET IN' by a majority vote of already existing members of the IMITTT-CLUB. Later, they too will vote other potentials, as invited-in, or stay-out. This is very real. It breaks my heart even though I don't have any real love for the guy, but my ex partner does not permit himself to believe this is real. Folks just like him, all those NOT IN THE CLUB, endlessly lie to themselves no matter how much constant evidence shows them that my words are true and that this is all real; they go on denying it and denying it and lying to themselves like a stack of carpets. Those not in, they don't know of this system, the club, abnd not being able to get in without invite by them, and just how real all this is. It is even why they murdered my life in the middle eighties, when I showed the world that I could consistently win money in the Jersey casinos, playing professional roulette. I had to be stopped, or else, I would have begun my slow climb up the ladder into success. I am not invited to ever be in this club, it is forbidden to be well off unless they permit you to join them. It is all totally 100% controlled, and those not in it, the vast majority, remain forever clueless to this powerful mother fucking secret. All of this horrible monstrous fuckiGN shit is completely revolting and sickening. So much so, the majority of the SHUT-OUTS absolutely refuse to ever believe this powerful fuckiGN secret could possibly be the dam ass truth, and they go on and on, doing the Giant Williamstown Police Officer (GWPO) Syndrome! But not accepting the truth is always counter productive to ourselves, in the end. I despise believing this every bit as much as any of you do, YO. But it is true whether Mountainpen approves or disapproves; they certainly do not need my permission to operate their world system of power and power structures and secrets. Yes, I'll be first fucking man at the gate to say that this is only what I can describe as someone's idea of the ultimate NIGHTMARE-PLAYFIELD. But I don't have to like it, believe in it, or any of that jazz, to make it the truth, and it is the mother fucking truth, good folks! I promise!





Remember the groupings now in Morianity. My 96 hour time block showed 428 views. Between 300 and 600 is TYPE-2. This will be the Morianity given over the following 96 hours.





I am dead tired, and need to crash, friends and fiends out there, have a nicer helliday than me, whatever you do.







THE WEATHER BUG,

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Fort Pierce, FL 34950



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WOW, I did say, Lois Foca 1980, the one and only 1980. Well I may not be Bob the vampire, TDA, or Roseann either; or even the retired carpenter from the future, back in 1981; but I knew then, I was not imagining any of this wild stuff.












GODDESS DIANA, MY LOVELY LIGHTNING.

















COURTESY OF THE WEATHER BUG!!!

Weather Map is courtesy of CHANNEL 12 local South Florida TV.









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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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There are some things that need to be said. One by one, they are getting fucking said, BRRRRR!!!!



















I learned long ago, doing this is more dangerous to the health and well being, at least for me, than smoking, texting and driving, and cheating on my taxes and bragging about it on Facebook, all put together! To quote the great Billy Harner from New Jersey, timing is everything!!!!!!!!! Good night folks, and sleep tight, Sarah 'Kessel' look-alike.













THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:

















 

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