…....THE
MIND DIMENSION, CHAPTER 016
WOW,
this was one wild mother fucking day, not all bad, yes some aerial
siege struck with nasty afternoon out of the blue sudden blasts of
chemtrail attacks to the east in the Fort Pierce, Florida area, but
this all leads up to shit from the entire day as it progressed along,
and before I even climbed the fuck out of my goddess dam bed kind
folks, or unkind folks; as how can I know this for Crissake??????????
This mouse is already UNDER ATTACK & DEATH SIEGE, BOB MCDOWELL,
of the FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION, and my old 1972 pal from
Cooley-Wormhole Hall, in Haddonfield, New Jersey!!!!!!!!!
A
lot of this began when I saw my kid's sister at the Publix some time
ago, and was very careful to discuss this, I am referring to her
half, and that is saying way too much before I even get intro shit. I
had powerful hyperspace interaction or dreaming, as most would say,
before getting up this twat huffing miserable morning. It was not
pleasant. Someone is hacking this computer big time, I will bet a
million dollars it is Mariah.
If
only I never left my old plan to try saving a few dollars, where I
had Comcast Computer service. It was better because I could unplug
from the modem when I typed my blogs, and she could not get at me.
Now this almighty goddess can and does, and when I really stop and
think about it, she is all powerful and all wise, and puts on quite a
show for all the rest of you, but I know she is Goddess Almighty, and
there's no stopping her. Her friends were in this wild interaction
last night or really, late this morning before I arose, or maybe
early afternoon somewhere. They had made me a promise to do something
that she knows what it is, and calls me disgusting for it, but you
know, we all judge, all of us, and wow, if it was ever reflected
back, the heat would be on a lot of feet, not just mine and the
Copyright Office back in 1983 with one of my three sent music
projects, as follows, huh Mister Archimedes????
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Now
breaking down the Performing Arts 'u' registration numbers, the real
order is not those shown in numerical catalog order, of #6, #13, and
#17, shown above on the pasted in CAP from the U.S. Copyright Office.
The true order in registration catalog number, as you can see by
checking the three projects that I sent, see above; would be, #13, in
the 501
thousand grouping. Following that would be #17, in the 540
thousand grouping. Following that would be the final 1983 project
sent down there by me, #6, in the 546
thousand
grouping. This is to quote, Bob McDowell of the FCC, when he was a
young teenager, “vely vely intelesting”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just
why might take me a few hundred hours to try and explain, so that can
all happen in later points in 5-D MIND-ILLUSION or ''time''. For
right now, I need to tell you all some really major fuckiGN shit,
please pay attention, I beggeth ye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
knew that Atco, New Jersey fitted into a lot of stuff, ever since
2008, when I was with MC in that interaction with that glarry eyed
driver, or really, head-trucker as some in the trade were calling it
not that long back before that, if they still do, I do not know, I
cannot even afford one driver, let alone a big A-List Celeb's
Entourage. Mister McDowell, it is very hard to do a blog with this
fucking mouse wanting to highlight every place I click it onto,
making text try and vanish and disappear, in total violation of mty
mother fucking FIRST AMMENDMENT RIGHTS UNDER THE UNITED STATES
CONSTITUTION, ENTITLING ME TO MY FREEDOM OF 'FUCKIGN' PROTECTED
SPEECH. Where are you PAM BONDI?
I hope you remain our lovely and wonderful Attorney General,
ma'am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
hacking is really getting on my cunt chewing mother fucking asshole
nerves, BOB MCDOWELL, YO YO YO YO YO YO, BRO!!!!!!!!!
YES
ANITA, (FRIEND OF DAVID CHARLES ROTH'S FROM
DECADES BACK), THEY HACK ALL DOCUMENTS THAT ARE NOT APPROVED
OF BY THESE NAZZI COMMY SCUM BAG WORLD CONTROLLER/OWNER/ MIND
MANIPULATOR, DIRT BAGS, AT LIGHT SPEED SQUARED AND CUBED, CUBAN
LOTTERY POPPY IN ATLANTIC SHITTY CITY, BLUE
JERKSEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
PAM,
BOB, MISTER PRESIDENT OBAMA, MA'AM AND SIRS, THIS IS OFFENSIVE AND
ABSURD, IT IS NON STOP MOTHER FUCKING HACKING NOW, PLEASE GET THIS
SHIT TO FUCKING STOP, PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I DON'T
WANT TO CAUSE A STATE TO FALL UNDER THE DAM SEA, PLEASE DAM
IT!!!!!!!!!!
In
this powerful wild dream, I was in Atco and then I was further east
and a little bit north, out in the old Pine Barrens that has been
developed to a small degree with sparse homes along country rural
roads, and on a road that I never was past a certain point on, in
this universe, before my internet blogging when I would pass out my
(negatracts) as I used to call them, that told all these truths in
small short stories on rolled up scrolls or cut up small squares of
paper, and let out my car window while driving at night; causing
the Camden County Prosecutor ADA Mister Ron Wirtz Senior,
to tell my mom one day at her Philadelphia office job, over the
telephone, quoting him verbatim now, if my mom got his words
correctly as really I am quoting the hearsay of her saying that he
said this to her, “Misses Mohr, “I really
wish he wouldn't keep passing out those little pieces of paper all
over the place”. Yeah I will bet his bosses in authority
wished for that indeed, and now they all wish they could fucking cunt
shut me up on the internet at http://www.blogger.com/
and also at http://www.wordpress.com/
so whoop-dee-diddly do, lads and lassies, YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You
missed me JANE MUSCLEWHORE SLEAZEWEEDSDISEASE BITCH NOTFONDAU!!!!!
HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP!!!!
HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP!!!!
HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP!!!!
HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP!!!!
HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP!!!!
HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP-HELP!!!!
Here
is where it gets heavy, and weak hearts really need to tune off of
this whittle bwog, Mister Fwudd and Mister Disney, and take all of
your high schools and all of your musicals, and put them all where
the sun does not shine any time real ass soon, my
peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
NOVEMBER
3, 2014,
MONDAY
EVENING AT 7:14,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 69 DEGREES FNHT.
DAILY
TEMPERATURE RANGE (H-75/L-49).
HUMIDITY
IS 55&, IT FEELS 69 W.C.
WINDS
ARE NNE AT 6, GUSTING TO 21 MPH.
THE
BACK TO REALITY WARM UP STARTS IN MIDDLE WEEK, AND WILL BE LOW
EIGHTYS FEELING MIDDLE EIGHTIES ALL OVER.SAY LEVEY, OCEAN BOY!
WAY-HAY, HAY HAY HAY HAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN STILL SEE YOUR COUSIN
STEVE ON TV DOING THAT.I NEVER EVER FORGET A THING, PAULA, SO BE
CAREFUL, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
CAVEAT
EMPTOR, BE WARNED, WEAK HEARTS GO ELSEWHERE, THIS IS GOING TO BE A
BIT HARD PUNCHING, ENJOY IT GODDESS KEISHA-99, AND DON'T REWIND, AS
NO HELP COMES TO HAMMONTON STOCKHOLM PATHETIC VICTIMS, HUH
CALLIO/MCGUIRE CLAN, AND MANY OTHERS IN THIS EXTREMELY DYSFUNCTIONAL
FAMILY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OK,
so in this wild hyperspace interaction, it all connects up with what
lovely other Atlantic City initialed maiden namers were all doing
around the time of middle and late September of this so wonderful
nice sarcastic 2014 year, a numerological 7 year, and yes, I made
some mistakes,i know that, I know it does not perfectly cycle at the
end of a month and thus when I said the following day would be the
next higher number, meaning November one after October 31, I fucked
up, and I OWN THAT, so there's no need to bust my fuckiGN stone
chops, great peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OK;
it's down to fucking cases, Mister Perry Deepjones Mason. Here we go.
A powedery substance was given to me and I was told it would be
exchanged for making me quite happy. I was with some wild weird
fucked up peeps in their late teens and early and middle twenties,
and it began in Atco, and then led down that road that I told you
that I only went so far down and no further, back earlier on this
blog, and was referring to right here in this parallel universe part
of the 5-D hyperspace. All grown up was Wilson the Voodoo Priest who
had a doll that looked just like me, and had a handkerchief around
its throat; just like in that great soap show of the Macumba nature,
back in the nineteen-sixties, called, “Dark
Shadows”. In the show, a handkerchief was used by a
gorgeous witch named Angelique, to choke Barnabas Collins before he
became the famous idol and vampire, adored by millions, Mister
Jonathan Fried. This witch was played by the lovely red hot Lara
Parker, who played in Highway To Heaven, the show created by the dude
from my so-called high school, Michael Landon was his stage name, his
real name was Eugene Horowitz. My spelling may be off, but the
pronunciation equals the spelling. His town nickname was Ugie and
Googie, depending on how close you were to him. He was a troubled
soul, and he also knew the mighty truths of dream control, as it was
done all throughout his great television show, HTH, the initials just
happening to correspond to the high school a couple miles down the
road where I went to in seventh and eighth grade, the HTH School, and
HTH as in Highway To Heave, symbolic coincidence, but a coincidence
and connection just the same. Wilson who went to the same sike ward I
went to in the sixth grade, in this universe in the hyperspace, the
(New Jersey
Neuro Psychiatric Institute), (NJNPI) for short as they
always called it there, my boarding school promise number 1, and
there was a number 2, for reasons the entire EW knows about, I
promise; but let us not piss off my daughter's peeps any more right
now. I am not able to dare tell anywhere near and close to what I
want to, you know, all of the shit, I simply
DON'T FUCKING DARE! But I am going to talk all around a
lot of shit, and even this is going to be very major.
So
Wilson had this doll and showed me he was choking me, and he pulled
out a calendar and told me he read my last blog on the
vintern-system, basically, the internet, in his parallel universe. I
then asked why he came over here, and he said because I go over there
a lot, and then he chuckled and pulled the neck noose tighter around
my dolls neck, and I dropped down to the ground gagging. Then three
beautiful giant girls, all came out of nowhere, and one of them
jumped Wilson from behind, knocking the doll of me, out of his hand
and onto the ground. One of them grabbed it and took off the noose
and put a powdery substance all over it, and I began to feel my lymph
notes and glands shrink and shrink back to normal, even in the dream,
somehow my physical body was responding, or I thought it was,
remember, hyperspace is a complicated dog, folks, and I will not be
able to tell you all of ins and outs of shit in one lifetime. I know
it, but I cannot ever be smart enough to teach much of it. On top of
that, the Astral or plank realm gods don't want that, and if they
don't want something, you have no idea of what they can do to you and
everyone all around you, you have no concept, you are so fuckiGN ass
clueless there were never any possible vibrations made to create the
necessary words to tell this in more elaborated details. For this I
am truly so very dam sorry, people.
Now
these wild girls promised to make all of my CUPI DREAMS come true, if
I would just follow them into this place and do something, most of it
is hazy, but even the parts that were not, are really unbloggable if
I wish to remain alive and in one piece, relatively fucking safe from
major MILITUFORCE HARM! The person I ran into at the Publix five or
six weeks back that was all part of this late September debacle or
nightmare or surreal indescribable total hell, call it whatever you
like; she told me in so many words that she was studying dreaming and
even Morianity, and that the family put her onto Morianity, and that
others I do not know about in the family tried to do something I
discussed and it worked, and they actually profited by it in a big
way, and she refused to be any more specific to me about this, so I
just let it go. She pulled out a few photos, of places and some
people, two girls were sitting down in one photo, gorgeous, and they
looked tall and strong, the way I love my women. She said I would be
running into them and that is all she said. Well, in this DREAM, I
did, both of them. Now after Wilson was knocked to the ground, he
tried to get up and realized his leg was broken, and began cursing
and shouting, “My dam leg, my dam leg, you moose”, and the girl
who jumped him, after he called her that, grabbed him and stood him
up and with her right hand, gave him a nightmare looking upper cut
punch that knocked him instantly stone cold out and he laid
motionless on the ground. As we got into this unmentionable place,
deep into some woods in the Pine Barrens, a sort of shack, some guys
were there and they began to ask me some questions, and told me that
they would allow me to have a relief clause on my family curse, based
on my request years ago, published onto my blog. They said I needed
to open up a book they pointed to on a shelf, a one shelf long
bookcase. I took the book and went close to a window where the bright
sun shone in through, and began opening its pages. As I proceeded to
open seemingly blank pages, one of them through me a pair of, as he
called them, magic glasses. I put them on and began to see words on
the page that were all blank before that. It said that some people
were going to shortly let me have a relief clause, as p er my
request, and as I read further, aloud to them all in this one large
cabin type of room, one of the dudes threw me the small powder ball.
It was about four inches in diameter, and a ball shape that was not
perfectly spherical. The top part rounded up but the bottom part sort
of squared in shape below it. Going on here would be real forbidden
territory. Now, a door opened up at the far end of the room,and out
came Dawn-Marie King, and I knew it was her at about age fifteen, she
had bright red hair and they began calling her Dawn, and she of
course did not know or recognize me. She knocked me down and tore my
clothes off and fucked the shit out me and made out with me
passionately. I won't say that I did not enjoy it immensely or I
would be a total fucking liar. Then one of the dudes who had not
spoken a single word the entire time, whistled and pointed for me to
follow him out yet another door that led into a tunnel that winded
around and around and seemed to go deep into the earth as it
continued onward. Before we began to walk into this, he handed me a
pair of very old blue sandals that fit my feet perfectly, and a green
jersey and some shorts that were sort of brownish gray in color, and
everything fit as though I had just been to a professional tailor to
have these custom made just for fucking me, YO. There was writing on
the shorts, the number 100, the number 2, the letters ANN, and the
letters GOLDHAIR. At the waste-band area of the shorts, it clearly
read WALMART PRODUCTS, INC. I have bought clothes over the years in
waking life at the Walmart, but never ever saw a tag or writing with
that display. When we got to the end of this tunnel that seemed to me
to be a mile long, it came to just a door, and he opened it with a
combination pattern and also, an eyeball ID recognition system. I got
very scared at that point, but reluctantly followed him into a very
large home that was beyond this door. Suddenly, my copyrighted 2013
fisherman song was blarring super loud on a real expensive stereo
system in a large room about four rooms down a corridor that began
after we had walked through the large room where we came through
initially from this long tunnel. The only difference was that a
machine had not been used to make the harmony parts, and it sounded
so beyond beautiful. MC had even added in quite a few little things
in-between verses, and sang it like a thousand caroling angels. Well,
she's MC, what do you expect? I wanted to stay and learn how my song,
done like this, was on this stereo system, and back in the early
eighties, and then I was shoved forcefully into a room just past that
along this long hallway, and to the right side, whereas the room
playing the music was to the left side of this hallway.
This
is where shit goes from surreal squared to surreal to the mother
fucking eighth power, ladies and gentlemen, I swear to the gods on
the PLANK REALM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was shoved again and fell
this time, as the shove was unbelievably hard, and I fell onto a huge
three sided sofa, gorgeous to look at, brilliant colors yet not at
all ostentatious. Then, and remember, I am going to have to be very
careful whether PK likes it or not, WAYV, in my wording, as this goes
so far beyond being NOT-BLOGGABLE, words fail even
motormouth-Mountainpen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A
group of numerous important looking folks were all seating themselves
on furniture that was all around the sofa that I had been shoved very
hard, down onto. After about five eternally long minutes had passed,
everyone meant to be there, I suppose was, and the door to the room
seemed to shut all by itself and I could hear bolted locked type of
sounds one after another, extremely loud, almost as if for sake of
effect. My mind was racing like a fuckiGN ass madman. It was
obviously some meeting, and people in the room were all dressed to
kill, literally million dollar suits if such shit existed, I kid you
all not! I was about as mind
blown, as the person must have been, some
time in the past somewhere, who made up that expression. Then the
meeting literally was called to order. No one could seem to see or
hear me, no one was aware that I was there, but they all could see
and hear and interact with the dude that brought me there and shoved
me so hard down on that lovely couch that if it had not been soft, I
would have been busted in two. They began talking all about many
things, me included. All of so many things got said that I always
suspected. They were saying how MC had bought the building I lived in
shortly after I had moved into there, so as to be able to control
things there and make me miserable and in a living hell. They said
stuff about what really does happen, how when the stock market needs
a shove and a directional change to yh eup side, they have all the
people in my wing and floor all together as one big party, that do
stuff and make noise at perfect times, just like I always knew was
real. The meeting went on and on, and then I looked up at the fuckiGN
ceiling, and I don't remember whether I shit my fuckiGN pants or not,
folks. I saw the words, NEW
JERSEY CHAPTER of the BOHEMIAN GROVE CLUB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Before
all of this was said and done, an hour or more of time had passed.
During this time, I learned a million fucking things. One was that in
the parallel universe where I was in high school and MC was my
homeroom teacher and was 16 years older than me instead of the
inverted way in any other universe I can remember dreaming into; it
was indeed the Cheltenham High school of Pennsylvania, USA. Wilson,
Mark Minor, and Salvador were all there, and I had previously thought
Wilson was not, but they all were, Peter, Allan; all of them. Not
only were they there, but the father of one of
them was an agent that worked with some of the bosses of the now
EX-AGENT in this universe, Edward Snowden. They were
responsible for building a stargate at the Cooley Hall on Hopkins
Lane, but this had been done in the late forties, with the help of
Albert Einstein. Too many people were taking Morianity back through
time in hyperspace, and using it to educate too many people who had
genius potential and could alter things in ways that were not always
consistent or popular with those who ran and controlled the world,
who many call the MOVERS ADD SHAKERS, or
for short, the MAS! The MAGIC LOBBY
CHRISTMAS TREE was the power source; and as such; it
was placed in an electromagnetically strategic position, in-between
the coaches locker room in the school gymnasium and the office of the
psychiatrist, Mister Marola; the husband of my 1969 teacher
who absolutely insisted that I be at the school
play at a specific time, doing some silly part; as without
this; the entire multiverse would alter. Most
of you know why and how this connects to putting me onto Atlantic
city's Tennessee Avenue at a time other than when I would have
arrived there, should I not have been literally forced to do this
memorial Day 1969 school play, by Misses Marola.
Now
this is the peach shaving cuts from the iceberg that sank the
Titanic, a disaster that would have taken my life in my last lifetime
if I had altered my plans just in the very slightest way, and of
course, the girl that nobody is aware of that made me alter my plans,
was a lovely teen from Trenton, New Jersey, named Sara J. Karge, the
grandmother of Atlantic City Municipal Utilities Authority employee,
Sarah Callio, and the only true love of my life from 100 years ago!
But summing a lot of shit up as much as is humanly possible, Salvador
Ventura, Wilson Jessup, and Mark Minor, are no ordinary kids from a
sike ward. They were plants, put there by parent-travelers. THAT was
all part of the early 1966 “FRIDAY NIGHT SECRET” that some out
here may know about, and if you don't, then don't sweat the small
stuff, as my dad used to say. It's an old naval expression from long
fucking ago, people!
Now
MC over here, has been the victim, as have I, of many things in fifth
dimensional hyperspace; and her distant cousin Robert McGuire knows
this is all true. But the three kids who have travel-parents, Wilson,
Sal, and Mark; went to the teacher's home one evening and took with
them a lot of stuff that proved a lot of these things, and drove her
completely over the edge, and for reasons I don't have a small clue
about, it would just be me taking one pot shot fucking guess after
another. I won;t waste your time or my time in such Kaiter-absurd
endeavors. After they did this, her husband, the same one she has
over here presently, became a seasoned skilled TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON.
This is how the entire thing has worked since 1983. It is like the
coolest and most fucked up reality-videogame ever created, and
whoever holds the patent rights to it if it is marketed in a various
format later on in either this or the next decade, it will create the
first trillionaries on this planet. I have now become aware, that
those that started up the International Mobile Machines,
Incorporated, in 1972, are all part of this gigantic deal, and it is
all to make trillions of dollars in this insane game, where no one
wins, and I am perpetually cursed and running for my pathetic life,
sort of like what I already knew all along, with my ''little pieces
of ADA Prosecutor's Office papers that I was littering all over the
fuckiGN place early in the nineties, and throughout most of them as
well. Now all of these words on this blog, are the condensed and
carefully worded so as not to end up dead or in prison or worse; by
these diseased scoundrels; and the full story, would require about
fifty five hundred Britannica Encyclopedia's, YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
I got up from this wild dreaming experience; and I had to go on a few
errands. I did not have a cherce, Mister Archie Bunker, as rent is
due and we Don't need the lovely and smart Judge Judy, to tell any of
us, that you pay your rent, or else it's bye-bye to your fucking ass
crib; so out I had to go, to face THE MUSIC,
transdimensionally, laugh laugh laugh, Mike McNulty, you big turd
you!!!! I paid my rent, mailed my Comcast Cable bill off,
checked my bank balance, and went to three places at the Virginia
Avenue Shopping Mall, here in good old Fort Pierce, Florida, USA.
First I went to Staples Store, as I am going to have to do some
things with this computer or else it is bye-bye to more than just
crib, but to my PC, let's not even go there, as Mister Dangerfield,
you tried; and I just totally managed to fuck shit up real
good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
do not think the WOMO-MILITUFORCE liked me going there and talking to
peeps in there about my problems. Right after this, I went next door
to the Good Will Store for a few movie VHS tapes, and then over to
the Publix for some food items. I come out, and a lovely bright
waxing-gibbous moon is staring right at me from up over the highway
ahead of me, US 1. All around it and all over to the east and the
north; were a giant burst of sky filling nasty
fuckiGN POISON CHEMTRAILS, all fucking
over the place. This is now every time I
fuckiGN go out, a major sky fuckiGN attack, {{{(('BUT'))}}}
after an interaction like that one, 'kammaan' Mister McCoy; was
this really not to be fuckiGN ass expected, YO???????????
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
NEVER
BE SURE OF ANYTHING, MOUNTY!!!!
I
am sure that WALL STREET'S DOW JONES market FLEW over the
starry fucking heavens after all of fucking this shit today, but yes,
the answer to why it is flying, I got last night from a special kitty
cat named GAWKY GAUKAUK!!!!!!! Oh yeah, I GOT-TWALD, whatever WALD
really is, he sure had something that attracted my mother's first
cousin RUTH HUNTINGTON!!!!!!!!! He also managed to reach the top
position in the worlds 2nd greatest banking institution of
the last century, CHEMICAL NATIONAL BANK, he was their SENIOR VICE
PRESIDENT for 'god-sake'!!!! To hear him tell it, only he and one
other dude in NYC had the final word to any really big money moving
around in town, back in the day. Who knows, I never heard him tell a
lie that I could prove, as even that revolting fuckiGN story he told
in December of 1972 in front of me at the age of just-18 years, about
my dad puking on the train, the Long Island Railroad, and how he
blamed Heinz and told the conductor that he did it and then he had to
take that train every day into the bank, and my dad never had to take
it again. BOO HOO HOO, grow up CUZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If
that was the limit of my mother fucking probs, BRO, I would wipe out
entire continents, just for being able to say such a thing in truth!
Holy shit!!!!
WELL,
LET'S CHECK THAT MOTHER FUCKIGN STOCK MARKET, PEOPLE,
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA- AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MIKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WELL,
A FEW LITTLE POINTS DOWN, AHL!
IT
WILL BE UP TO FUCKING 20,000 BEFORE YOU DUDES AND DUDDESSES UP NORTH
HAVE A CHANCE TO ENJOY OUTDOOR SWIMMING AGAIN, AND 30,000 POINTS
BEOFRE 2017 COMES IN, I PROMISE YOU, AND WHEN AM I WRONG, UNLIKE
MISTER HOT SHOT ****-********?
Yes
I got your wonderful message, Lightning. She gave me major static
shock each time I would touch any of the Publix frozen foods doors
today, three times, she didn't miss a one. IWALU-P-GIRL!
I
really couldn't believe it, she has not done this since I first came
down to Florida, shortly after coming to the Manatee RV-Trailer Park,
and literally after
striking on three different occasions, she hit and stayed there, in
some form of a greenish buzzing humming entity that surrounded the
entire area where I was living,
before leaving there to go up to the hood at 26th
Street and Avenue E; and work at that miserable fucking HARVEST
place. LIKE W—O—W Mister Macy, YO!!!! Computer hacking is
starting up, along with some door banging, Mizz Bondi and Mister
McDowell. Yeah, some mother fuckiGN “too much pizza B4 retiring
dream, huh shrinkologists of the world?????????????????
WEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
Now
this is not the next day, nor is it June
26, 2007, around 22 minutes past noon. But it is important to read
and try and get this urgent little message, there is no bullshit
going on, and I have no time whatsoever, to sit here pumping out any!
Crissake,
it's almost 2015!!!!
These
paste-ins will be followed by a powerful message. I would not miss it
if I were you, feel free to skip over the familiar texts, good peeps.
'BUT',
whatever you do, SARAH
KRASSLE;
knows
every single thing atom by atom in all five dimensions; and wants me
to tell you this powerful thing, so please read it after the paste-in
stuff, good folks, and thank you so very much.
The
ESS is powerful and something connected to all of it had to be
covered up.
One of these travelers had obviously somehow managed to bring back to
1970 physically, what now in 2014 and from the past few years, is
called, a ''TABLET''. Only this tablet was very advanced, containing
the PEEF, or the PEE FEATURE. I remember to this very minute in
future time, folks, the word on the side of this thing that I used to
just call the Wildwood Press paper placed inside of some weird thin
box containment. By tapping certain keys, you became a part of this
networking cloud system and actually were mentally transported into
it, and all anyone needs to do is archive and read my old blogs from
2006-2009, long before there were tablets. These things whether any
of you accept this or not, ARE MY PROOFS to my claims and my
MORIANTIY STORY AS WELL, IN FULL. As the “L&O” folks say it
so dam well, “You just can't make stuff like this up”!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:
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