FUCK THE ESS, CHAPTER 3

FUCK THE ESS, CHAPTER 3

Now since my enemies are determined to put me thriugh hell and eventually covertly murder me, Thaxton/Braxton/Uwich, all all GASME games expert pipe apartment repairmen who work for Columbia Broadcasting Time Travelers Corporation, or some reasonable facsimile thereof, I am going to tell you what led my cousin to some of his horse play nonsense, without even going through a foyer in a mansion the size of slut bag Kim Kardashian's. So that you can know right away; that there is a whole dam lot more to follow after this, for other later freaking times!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When I went to that throat specialist's office early in 1984 after returning from freaking Florida to visit my ex-Chief Recording Engineer, Mister Howard Solomon who moved down to Orlando a year or so back to buy into a small roadside food and eats place a few miles from Seaworld; Kate; I encountered a very beautiful assistant named Mariah. I had absolutely no idea that the ESS existed, or that all of us have virtually unlimited copies of ourselves all over this place called by some the hyperspace and called yet by others, the fifth dimension, it really is six and half a dozen. But the point is that she knew me and she hypnotized me. She was getting off as my appointment was over, and asked me if I was heading to go down I-95 towards the city, (Philadelphia), and would I take her, as her car had broken down. She invited me into this house along the road, of course you had to exit the highway and drive around, but I did not realize just where this place was until years later when it flashed back, when Pedersen and Harner and I were all driving in my car and had left a place called the Fresh Tracks Recording Studio of Philadelphia. I forced it quickly out of my mind. It was only until around three years back early in March of twelve if memory serves at all accurately here, that I began to remember again, that I was invited into this house, and everyone was acting very weird, and it is also the same place that the Comcast Cable nightmare with the ESS, was, as far as being the precisely interior decorated place. They both were the same place, one view was in my head of inside, and one view was in my head of outside. The highway ran by just above us. I never said a word to Paul, my ex-bizz partner about any of this. I know he had more than he wanted to handle with just Sarah Callio and my going on with her, and anyone reading this can go and ask him, and I know he will tell you that I am speaking the total truth here. He may also add in what a total mother fuckiGN asshole jerk off scum bag I am along with a hundred other such nice and lovely thoughts that he may have about me. Oh well, Say Levy, in or out of good old France!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My medical condition was given to me by the ESS so as to allow me to have all of this happen to me. When ESS makes a plan, it is not like anyone in one dimensional mind sets can start to even freaking imagine. IPYT. They see a flowchart as complex as a 100 terra-byte super computer with Q-bit-Tech!

That is the first thing you need to see. When you arrive anywhere near this mind set, then and only the good peeps, can you start to understand THAT FAMILY of FORBIDDEN WASHCLOTHS and just how and why Tom Reale was also sent into the situation. Without all of these things, happening on cue, down to a split nanosecond, I promise all of you, this entire end result of me in 2006-2008, could never have gotten around to exist. This to them, would be as incomprehensibly negative, as the end of the world would be to just about any and all of you. Laugh at me or call me a freaking liar all you want to, as I know, and God knows (GODD-ESS)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As this new BLOG-BOOK marches freaking onward, I will tell you what I have come to remember in that house on that day, that I suppressed memories about for coming up on 31 years now, KAL, in detail, but carefully, as we all can imagine that even I have to be careful.

With the powers of the ESS, the possibilities to any and all things in this life, are exactly what gorgeous Elizabeth Montgomery said, some time back now, on that great sixties sitcom television show called 'Bewitched'; “ENDLESS”. For reasons I will later let out, maybe, I am calling all of this, the Punxatonney-Penn Syndrome. Memories trigger, when we do or see just the right things, and at just the right times. Otherwise, they remain in hyperspace as energies. No one is even able to make up a single thing. If you have a 'dream' and you tell it to someone and change it or add to it out of what you believe to be your imagination, guess what, it is not. None of us can make up anything. We cannot be original. Every possibility, Mizz Montgomery, is already long taken, and all that any of us will ever be able to do forever and endlessly, is shuffle things around. Endless combinational shuffling, or said another way, hyperspace ops. You can believe this people; I have merely cracked open a door, and you are all about to shit yourselves, if you are not in the ESS already; when I take you further and further inside of this hideous mansion from hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is quarter past three on Friday afternoon. I am planning to leave the United States forever and change my identity. I cannot say any more than that, or I won't live to see tomorrow morning, Misses Sudano Gaines!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bob McDowell of FCC old buddy, and kind sir; they just fucking hit me with the (`~HACK) at 3:17, YOYO YOYO YOYO Sarah Y-J Callio!!!! Jumping fucking Jehovah.

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!!!