Saturday, February 14, 2015

FUCK THE ESS, CHAPTER 17
























FUCK THE ESS, CHAPTER 17











Not everybody on this planet is a good or nice person. Not every person on this planet is a horrible or rotten person. Some do fit those categories, and many are simply in the middle range. Mind and mood is also a very important part of so many things. Entire lives as they fan out from each one four hundredth minute or (consciousness-instant), can be totally altered because someone is in an extra good or extra bad frame of mind (mood).

































































































































I'll only be opening a few doors, but this way, when I re-read my blog later, I will remember clearly, all of the things that I opened up, and then one by one, I'll continue down these paths, that I feel are somewhere between due and overdue now, for being pursued.









FEBRUARY 15, 2015,

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I would not have known without being told, that this was, “THAT-FAMILY”. This seems to mysteriously go even further, as it corresponds in its own weird and unique way with what Sarah's girl-gang group referred to me, only I did not become aware of this for a short march of days when I escaped on that bus on the night of 12 July, and heard them call me, “THAT-BOY”. Despite Ann King's very rational explanation of this, Pam Bondi, Florida Attorney General; I am not buying into any of this stuff for a dam hyper second of New York time. Now this group did things to me that were frightening and horrendous. They shot me dead, and removed my lungs, and turned them into washcloths. Then they put these new lungs back into me and revived me back into life, and I remembered the entire procedure, when I came back awake or to here in this universe. A common experience of abductees, according to all of the old Bluebook information. But look at the wild learn & grow Syndrome here, taking on a persona all of its own, without any literary parents or other introductions from the cosmos, or RAW! The very next day after saying what is printed in BLACK FONT above, the truth just came to me in a powerful flash, that our dream-doppelgangers from other differing lives, have their own memories and knowledge, and we while dreaming through them, whether we're aware of any of this or not; simply seem to to also acquire that same knowing and mind. It wasn't telepathy at all, when I just knew these people from that other reality, back in 1970; as ''THAT-FAMILY''.











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Jane Shitwitz Sleazeweedsdisease Bitch, just fucking got me at one fucking eleven so I'll need to goddess dam compensate with fives!























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THERE IS NO WAY THAT TOM REALE, BACK IN JULY OF 1970, WOULD HAVE BEEN THAT UPSET ON THAT NIGHT OF THE FIREWORKS; IF HE HAD NOT BEEN A PART OF WHAT HAPPENED TO ME THE YEAR BEFORE THAT; AND WAS NOT ALSO A MEMBER OF THE ''GAP-ESS'' GREAT AND POWERFUL EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY!














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The time was back in 1984, and things all started after Donald J. Trump opened up his first casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey; the Trump Plaza Hotel. Did you really think the story was just that simple, John Red Henning Son???????????????????????????????????




Now this shit with my distant cousin Donald is powerful and complicated. It involves 1984, many powerful people, and obviously very majestic level classified top secrets of this nation. A child can piece that much together unless he or she is a total fucking quintmor.








But it is not something that obviously I can just start telling unless I want to face major covert disciplinary action from real dangerous fucking monster people.







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LOOKING AT THE PAST EVERY SO OFTEN, OFFERS UP QUITE A VIEW, OF HOW THINGS ALTER AROUND US ALL, WITHOUT OUR HUMAN SENCES BEING ABLE TO CATCH IT ALL IN PERFECT DETAIL OR CLARITY. IT IS NOT WHAT WE GET, BUT WHAT WE MISS; THAT MAKES US GREAT TARGETS OF IMPISH TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS OF THE ESS. THESE WORDS ARE A FANTASTIC OPENING, FOR TYING THIS WILD 1984 CONUNDRUM ALL TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!! WHEN I DO, GET READY TO DO SOME REAL MAJOR MENTAL SOMERSAULTS.











I could make a list, and would if I had a 900 daily average readership, of all the things that mathematically prove beyond any shadow of doubt, even to a team of fucking psychiatrists, that this goes beyond any chance for being a coincidence, that CUZZ DONNIE did so much to me, and that many other people were involved, from this world, and alternate realities too. I am not saying that any of the great powerful Macy-Gang were intentionally creating the hyperspace involvement in all of this, but I am saying, that I am quite confident that they, once onto it all; kept it all between them, and decided to do some very mean monstrous things, and not just to me, and a lot of shit got totally out of hand. How many folks out here have put together yet that my kid's stepfather is very powerful in an alternate reality, and managed to pull all of this off shortly after leaving here, in this universe? Still, it is no easy task to figure out the exact why to it all or for that matter, just precisely what was done by numerous ESS characters, as well as those who joined them, in 1984. Still, a brain-dead moron knows that I could not by chance, have written all those lyrics without help from 'beyond', that I wrote in 1983 from that Atco, New Jersey house, owned by Jerry Pliner. Or should I say heart failure, to keep lovely Sally Gidget Fields all happy, Elvis, Misses Meeker, and state Police of non-PEE, New Jersey, USA?????????????????? Hard to imagine GIDGIT not being Spell-Checker Microsoft recognized, that's a real WOW, but only the greatest lab tech in the word could really say the word 'WOW' quite so cool. Also, yes someone reminded me I fucked up, it was four times that I interacted, in this reality, with my daughter. I forgot the first time, while dog-walking, up in Suffolk County, New York, when Aunt Ruth H. Gottwald Gozzwald took her grandchildren Scottie and Christopher and also me, on the road trip up to the block my daughter lived on at age two. Move over lovely Sarah Karge, spelled any way you want, mommy dearest! Am I anywhere near the middle of the room yet after bringing you all in and through this new doorway, you may be wondering? Well, NO would be a quick and concise response for me to give to you, peeps, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!











WELCOME TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS. Anyone can join, and the price is FREE.













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








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

















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So exactly what is happening to me, and exactly why, and who exactly is behind it, and can Morianity ever have the dimmest hope of sleuthing its way to the Gozzwald Movie Answers, from the early nineteen-seventies??? Well, STAY-C tuned folks, and we will be exploring this precise element, and maybe when all the maps are thoroughly drawn out and all completed; we will have a newly discovered element to add to the table-list for the scientists and the curious, the world over, YO!!!!!!!!!!!! Watch that magnum piece McKinnon! Yes sir, that's a big one 601, roger that, come back, YO! Wait a fucking minute johnny Faster and my pal Mister FCC Bob McDowell, DON'T COME BACK, oh you did, too late Lois 1980 Foca. Now do you see what I was so up set about, Mister wonderful Solomon, Back in cunt chewing time; and yes, through and via, STM??????? [Window Title]

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Well, I will tell shit and tie major things together, right down to why things happen at power-points. What's a PP? Well, it ain't my ex-bizz partner, Mister Pedersen. It means times when shit could have very easily gone in two different directions and that would result in major life alterations should an alternate path and route had been the one moved from fifth dimensional flux, into your STM in waking life. One such time was while still living at Highview Apartments, on the first of the two times I lived there, in WILL-I-AM-ST-OWN, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; my mom and I had driven to meet Richard Karpf and his father; the owners of that nightmare fuckiGN home, in Cherry Hill, where 'RGG' was written and then sent for © registration, a month later, upon moving out of Highview, and into the home on Route 70, or the Marlton Pike; as it is the same road. I've blogged this story over and over, but it needs to be reiterated here.





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Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
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We were on time or ten minutes early most likely, and after it got to be twenty minutes past the time, we did not encounter them, and so I drove off down this highway, heading eastbound, and suddenly, they came from nowhere and were behind us honking until we pulled over. If we had not pulled over, this planet would be so totally different right now, no words and no blog, could ever so much as even hope to adequately address this powerful unfathomable story in any way that justice would be done to it. That is a PP, the other PP, a ''POWER-POINT''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







My pal from late 1985, Mister David Charles Roth, wanted to believe that he and I had somehow miraculously reversed, or at least neutralized, the parallel event; between Wall Street and us. But after we had known each other for about ten months give or take, I was living in the second residence since meeting him on a job post at the Caldor 113 Department store, where we both worked as security guards, him directly for the company, and me, for a contract security company that Caldor had hired. This was early in November of 1985. He was in an active correspondence with a dozen female recording artists. I saw the letters he showed me one night at his home, they were the real genuine article, it was no fake out. Early in 1987, on a cold snowy winter night, while my mom was asleep in her bedroom, he was over at this house and we decided to light a fire in the fireplace. Neither one of us knew diddly squat about fireplaces, or flues or making sure they were in good working order. Well, he started a mother fucking bond-fire, the likes I never saw, and I had very wealthy relatives, that also had large hearths in their mansions; but they wouldn't have thought of doing anything like this. I walked outside the back door to see if a draft we felt was caused by a window that was not totally shut correctly, and as I rounded the bend and looked up at a major falling snow, I saw huge pieces of debris on fire, literally hurling out of the chimney. Fortunately it all landed on a snow covered area, and nothing could burn. If not for the near blizzard conditions, Dave's fire would have most assuredly burned the entire home to the ground. I mention the letters to these people, because I do not trust these people. Even back in the eighties, I had major entertainment world enemies, and wouldn't give you then or now, a wooden dime for any of them, on my worst day, and their best! I guess I own Santa Claus and Patty quite a lot of favors, who can know such things? Still, my Staples guru will be over here eventually, and if I can regrow my blog, I will let so much out that my dam cousin will be making plans to be on the Mars mission, just to escape my words!





Yes Frailenger Queenie, Rob Hartley, and William Harner, Summer of Love 2000 was real, just like the Second World War was real. But as Dock Bruce Goldberg says so well, in his fantastic fucking book, “Time Travelers From Our Future”, the whole world knows about the war and it made all of the papers. But smaller shit, can indeed be forced to go the way of Harry Potter, David Blaine, David Copperfield, Merlin, and Harry HH non-Huntington Houdini. But how real IS THIS DAM HUNTINGTON CURSE? Well, around MY FAMILY, and friends who communicate with their friends, I keep a very open pair of nostrils. There have been way too many fires around me and the things in my life, and since when-when ten-ten-old-old? Yeah, since 1980, Mister Microsucks Lightbulb, that's when. Whaddamadda, me whittle bwog hittin' some fwunny-bones, YO??????????????


















Thank you mighty Microsoft, 'I know'. I put the hyperlink up, so WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! No one says 'I KNOW' as adorable as my daughter at the age of two, no one, and yes, I am prejudiced but ask the dam Copyright Office, they have the tape from this following project, dudes and duddesses!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







THANX FOR THE MEMS, BABS AND TWC.















Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
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You look really great on TV”, Bob 1972 McDowell; if I can quote my pal Steve Harvey. Ever wonder what Dan Mackey knew back then, my old FCC buddy, you know, I mean that huge deal with the 'tape recorder', the wild tunnel, and then the lobby tree angel. He always said, remember, how someday you would grow up, and do a B2M thing. And they don't believe in god dam Christmas tree angels. And they don't believe in god dam Christmas tree angels. And they don't believe in god dam Christmas tree angels. And they don't believe in god dam Christmas tree angels. And they don't believe in god dam Christmas tree angels. And they don't believe in god dam Christmas tree angels. And they don't believe in god dam Christmas tree angels. And they don't believe in god dam Christmas tree angels. Well, then let them explain all this shit away, Bob, my old buddy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

















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