SAGA
OF NON-MUSICAL SONGWRITER MARK MUD
CHAPTER
00030
Laugh all you
wish great ESS or whoever is 'really' out here, but this is my
safe-journal, and I need it, and the episode of L&O with Mizz
Roberts has zero nada to do with it. I don't care if I vanish, but I
believe that murder always demands justice and the bones of those
made dead in such a way, in three seconds or seven decades of
torture, need some kind of vindication via and through retaliation
and punishment of those who were guilty. Now what I believe is as
important to this world as a floating turd in a trash can on a city
street after a violent rainstorm. But I do know for a fact, that
others definitely agree with me on this, so I don't say all those
words of and by myself alone.
A safe journal
that doubles as a blog, and by an Astral dog to boot. And still, they
don't get it and they don't care. And there is a huge reason that
never was really explored at all for most of this nonchalant and
stupid overall attitude. People are NOT GETTING EDUCATED worth a
mother flocking shootstickle any more. College educated professional
people exist all around me that don't know what Wall Street is. I
make nothing up, but just in case those I need to associate with
happen to fall onto these blogs at some future time, I don't want
them angry or embarrassed. They should be both of these things
however, just not directed at me, but at the FILTHY WEALTHY WORLD
OWNER F-500 OR WHATEVER NUMBER IS REAL, as these people seriously
don't want to share the declining wealth of this globe with a soul
outside of their 'family' of mega high digit money. But all these
things I am writing are just a truck load and a half of pure waste.
Let me cut to the chase and get right to the heart of the matter. I
fell under SUPER DEATH SIEGE IN TH ESKIES TODAY, PAM BONDI, FLORIDA
ATTORNEY GENERAL, PLANES AND CHEMTRAILS ALL OVER THE PLACE. Now
that this was said, I am going to walk anyone up here reading this
that just possibly might be at all truly interested in stuff that I
have recently let you in on that you are not going to find on any
other blog in this world; Mister Microsoft-Lightbulb
Bullshit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Before
I even attempt to continue, the ESS is so out of control in my life,
that nothing is wild or close to being impossible, and this is what
makes my life the way it is, as well as miserable. Even as I speak,
my neighbor next to me has one of his doubles in him. Somehow they
know as soon as I begin to type on this machine, and they of course
don't fucking like it, so they get him to instantly make weird
sounds, 24-7-365, unless no one is at home. Now this is annoying but
only one example. Every single day, I go through at a minimum,
hundreds of such incidents, and it matters not one bit, if I stay at
home behind closed doors, or venture outside. Hyperspace travelers
have no locked doors. They dont get locked in or locked out, and can
dream control and flash across unfathomable limitless fifth
dimensional hyperspace in the echo of a dying breath. The only reason
anyone reading this blog right now doesn't want to contact me and
join my fight against this mother fuckiGN tyranny is one of two
things. Either you are part of the ESS as I believe my entire
readership to be, hence I'm totally wasting my mother fucking time
and effort. Or you are being manipulated NOT TO do anything but laugh
and jeer at my blogs and not give me the smallest fucking benefit of
the doubt after all you have read and heard me say. And those doing
that manipulation are of course, the ESS. This goes far beyond what
would make any normal mortal lose sanity, decades ago, so why haven't
I, one must start to wonder? Well, because there really is a higher
ESS; GODD-ESS. Triple
Goddess Middie or SSJK or Jehovah as many of you call this entity
that is spirit and must be worshiped in spirit an din truth to quote
the Bible; does have a special interest in THAT-BOY as she calls me
on the ASTRAL-PLANE.
The problem with trying to argue this truth with the Christians is
that I cannot make them see that more is happening in the life of
this fantastic entity, than her pasting together this multiverse in a
big dream. SHE has countless other big dreams that none of us know
about nor will we ever. We don't need to. I know; but that is because
I
am THAT-BOY!
Hay
if you want to throw rocks at me, do it.
Maybe
it will ease the pressures and tensions in your lives,
but
I seriously doubt that it will bring world peace or justice for all
into this screwed up world of ours!
The
reason for the MAJOR DEATH ATTACK BY SKY ON WEDNESDAY is the same old
same old. I was in a parallel universe and it is totally unbloggable.
They know, and now; they know that I know. The death siege shot the
markets up all day after opening lower, and then at the final inning
of the ballgame, they did a Phillies Toilet-Junker and gave it all
back, except for a handful of points. Why? Well, I am not God Mister
1977 Laggy, any more than you; and you were at least an honest man
for admitting that to me. Still, I pretty much think I know. I was at
my doctor and things were real bad as they always are there, in fact
I despise that place. There is nothing wrong with me either. Their
lab tests are a big lie. They told me not to bother to fast and just
to get it done at their lab right next door at this Fort Pierce mini
med-mall. When I mentioned fasting, they gave me a cock and bull
story that technology advanced and we don't need to fast any more.
This is why my blood is all screwed up and on an don, and I know that
now. When I came to know this, even thought they don't know I am onto
it, it was around just past half past three. Look at the stock market
chart and see how it fell like a fucking Komocossi bomber in the
Pacific Ocean back in the dam ass forties.
Paste-In-Pages,
or (PIPS) as I call them, really apply and so many times, all I need
to do is change a date on the blog and then PIP in the information.
SOSO, things don't ever change or get old around me. For a perfect
mother fucking example, there is this: I
had some powerful wild dreaming-interactions, or hyperspace
adventures before arising this morning.
Oh
boy, lads and lassies, where should I dare to even fucking begin with
this? Well, my mom always taught me as a child, the greatest place
she could think of, is the BEGINNING, so let's go there at the risk
of some real mother fuckiGN disasters striking poor old Mountainpen.
SHEEEEEEEEEEEIT,
Jerry Heitzmann,
“It
was just a joke buddy” AHA-AHA-AHA,
Mike McNulty. Well, on or off of Ziggy's great 1969 jetty, nearly 45
years ago, skinned knees and seasons in the sun all notwithstanding,
Mister Terry Jackson; I was back in the final days of the eighties
and then in the starting of the nineties, in a parallel universe
where I knew Harner in those times. Here in this universe, we did not
meet until sometime in 1998 or 1999. I am desperately trying to put
shit out of my mind, and blur my memories. He had just that weird old
Haddon Avenue barber shop in Westmont, New Jersey; and I walked in
and sat down in a row of chairs and the place looked identical to the
place here when I used to go there a lot in the end of century-20 and
early in the beginning of century-21. I remember thinking that he
won't know me, it is the end of the eighties or the start of the
nineties so he won't know me. Why I walked in is unclear. He looked
much younger than when I knew him, so his birth was in the same time
in both parallel worlds. When I sat down, there was a man next to me
who was large, and so it was impossible to sit there comfortably. But
within a couple of minutes, it was his turn to sit in the barber
chair for a hair cut. Suddenly, Harner turned to me and said, “Mark,
I need you to follow me outside”. I thought “I'd fuckiGN shit
myself since he knew me back then. I followed him outside as he had
requested. We walked into the alley way to the west of the shop that
leads back to a parking lot, and he began speaking and asking me if I
got the CD? I gave him a blank stare. He knew I was confused by my
facial expression, and he said, ''you know, the CD they've been
keeping for you down the street at Radio Shack. Your daughter wants
you to have it so go down and get it''. I started to walk over, and
he yelled at me, ''Hay Holmes, I'll run you over there, don't walk''.
It is only a two minute walk down Haddon Avenue and for some reason I
was on foot in that world and had come to see him by train, the same
train and the same station that I will always remember the great
Congressman Rob Andrews for saying to me so many times one hot 1975
night right there in Westmont, ''whatever, whatever, whatever''. Of
course, he wasn't Congressman yet. Don't you just mother fuckiGN love
my crazy wild fucked up life that no one else anywhere possibly could
hold a candle flame up next to? When he drove me over the Radio Shack
of Westmont, he came in with me and bought a karaoke machine that
they were holding for him. He said he ordered it special and it
wasn't one of their products. I had to help him carry it to his
Saturn car, and yes, there were Saturn cars in that other parallel
world, where as here, it was not until 1994 that they were introduced
to the automobile markets. I had the CD and he had his machine, and
we were heading back those few blocks to the parking lot behind the
barber shop and the restaurant next door where his wife works. I
blurted out, I will never forget how your wife said to me, ''You
wouldn't trow out the Perk's CD's would you?'' This was in the year
2000, after my mother kicked the bucket, at Guthrie Short's mansion,
at 231 Route 73, in Blue Anchor, New Jersey; after suffering that
hideous 26 month voodoo spell, that eventually killed her totally
covertly. He then said to me, ''Holmes, that never happened''. I was
in a daze and was holding the CD that I had in my hands, and he said,
''Are you messing with me homey, shit what's up with you my man''? I
gave him another blank stare. Then he said to me, ''You know that I'm
the Billy you know, who lives on the Black Horse Pike, near the
shopping mall, where Paula King tried to ice you, back in 1985''. I
then replied after a fast thinking on my feet session with myself,
''I come here a lot Billy, you know that, good old universe-hopper
me, just like the great Karen Simons used to call me over at Grassi
Reality''. Then he took the CD out of my hand and said, ''I'll put it
in my player chowder head, let's hear it''. The first cut was my song
from over here, called 'Don't
Hide Nina', but it was titled differently when I did it in 1996. My daughter had sung a really beyond super cool mix of, and get this yo, hip hop and ballad, switching back and forth in the song, with the chorus part being all hip hop and way cool and with marketable style. Then the verses would switch into the ballad mode where only she could do justice to it. Some of the words were the same and others were changed, but the part about Mark and Sarah being the only two knowing the diction, was totally right dead on. FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION BOB MCDOWELL SIR, THE WORD FUCKING CUNT DISAPPEARING HACK HAS BEEN BACK AGAIN. THESE MOTHER FUCKIGN MONSTER SCUM BAGS HAVE RE-WORMED UP MY MACHINE, PAM AND BOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now to get back to the CD that was playing in Harner's Saturn car, over in this parallel universe; the second track was my Lost Love song, and she did a monster job on that as well. She kept most of the song and yet made a few alterations that changed it into an inconceivable tune with a really wild beat to it like nothing that I had ever heard anywhere in my life. The third track was the unbloggable song that tells how I was dragged into this mess because of her family, and she was letting me know she was sorry about that and that she had nothing to do with it, and these lyrics were so mind boggling, and the tune was beyond killer-monster. The fourth track was YBCO, changed a little bit, and without my vocals, just her main vocals and then overdubbed numerous harmony tracks. Then after the track-4 ended, Billy ejected it and shut off his car that we had been in for a short while, back in his parking lot. He jumped out and said to me, ''Holmes, you better hurry up and follow me''. I no sooner opened my side of the car door, began stepping out, and I was grabbed by mister Pedersen and given a horrible blow to the chin, sending me flat on my head and I remember the bright daylight slowly growing dark and the ambient noises around me growing more and more silent. I then woke up thinking I woke from this wild nightmare, but I found myself in Atlantic City, in Sarah Krassle's shop, and it was 1967. My Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason was there, along with Cousin Sandy, Cousin Donald, my mother, and Paula King. Playing on a record player, was the CD only as a phonograph record, the very same music. My Aunt Geraldine said to me, ''Mark my old nephew, you are a buttwipe squared. You need to get your face on straight and wake up''. After she said that, I realized that my face was indeed all bent out of shape, and UI figured it was from that monster fuckiGN punch that Paul Pedersen had given to me. Then my Aunt's pal, the Shah of Iran from those days, and ex-CIA Agent, came through the doorway and into the room and sat down in an empty bright red seat across from me. He said to me, ''You know this all has to play out, Sarah Krassle wins all of her games, and you really must play them with her, even tag, and even the guessing game''. Then a gigantic earthquake started, and the entire shop shook and shook, and eventually crumbled and everything fell and I remember falling down hard onto Tennessee Avenue. Then I remember trying to breathe, and then hearing a whisper in my ear, ''I am your Stacey, the great Sarah-Stacey, I'm more than a girl at the shore''. Then boom, I woke up and it was about 25 minutes past 8, and my alarm was going off. I had set it so I would be up for my PH inspection. I could say ten times more than all of this, but this is the basic fuckiGN shit, with or without Lois Foca, Louis Laines, or any Snowed-In other non SHAW-AGENTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hide Nina', but it was titled differently when I did it in 1996. My daughter had sung a really beyond super cool mix of, and get this yo, hip hop and ballad, switching back and forth in the song, with the chorus part being all hip hop and way cool and with marketable style. Then the verses would switch into the ballad mode where only she could do justice to it. Some of the words were the same and others were changed, but the part about Mark and Sarah being the only two knowing the diction, was totally right dead on. FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION BOB MCDOWELL SIR, THE WORD FUCKING CUNT DISAPPEARING HACK HAS BEEN BACK AGAIN. THESE MOTHER FUCKIGN MONSTER SCUM BAGS HAVE RE-WORMED UP MY MACHINE, PAM AND BOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now to get back to the CD that was playing in Harner's Saturn car, over in this parallel universe; the second track was my Lost Love song, and she did a monster job on that as well. She kept most of the song and yet made a few alterations that changed it into an inconceivable tune with a really wild beat to it like nothing that I had ever heard anywhere in my life. The third track was the unbloggable song that tells how I was dragged into this mess because of her family, and she was letting me know she was sorry about that and that she had nothing to do with it, and these lyrics were so mind boggling, and the tune was beyond killer-monster. The fourth track was YBCO, changed a little bit, and without my vocals, just her main vocals and then overdubbed numerous harmony tracks. Then after the track-4 ended, Billy ejected it and shut off his car that we had been in for a short while, back in his parking lot. He jumped out and said to me, ''Holmes, you better hurry up and follow me''. I no sooner opened my side of the car door, began stepping out, and I was grabbed by mister Pedersen and given a horrible blow to the chin, sending me flat on my head and I remember the bright daylight slowly growing dark and the ambient noises around me growing more and more silent. I then woke up thinking I woke from this wild nightmare, but I found myself in Atlantic City, in Sarah Krassle's shop, and it was 1967. My Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason was there, along with Cousin Sandy, Cousin Donald, my mother, and Paula King. Playing on a record player, was the CD only as a phonograph record, the very same music. My Aunt Geraldine said to me, ''Mark my old nephew, you are a buttwipe squared. You need to get your face on straight and wake up''. After she said that, I realized that my face was indeed all bent out of shape, and UI figured it was from that monster fuckiGN punch that Paul Pedersen had given to me. Then my Aunt's pal, the Shah of Iran from those days, and ex-CIA Agent, came through the doorway and into the room and sat down in an empty bright red seat across from me. He said to me, ''You know this all has to play out, Sarah Krassle wins all of her games, and you really must play them with her, even tag, and even the guessing game''. Then a gigantic earthquake started, and the entire shop shook and shook, and eventually crumbled and everything fell and I remember falling down hard onto Tennessee Avenue. Then I remember trying to breathe, and then hearing a whisper in my ear, ''I am your Stacey, the great Sarah-Stacey, I'm more than a girl at the shore''. Then boom, I woke up and it was about 25 minutes past 8, and my alarm was going off. I had set it so I would be up for my PH inspection. I could say ten times more than all of this, but this is the basic fuckiGN shit, with or without Lois Foca, Louis Laines, or any Snowed-In other non SHAW-AGENTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Even
one of my cousins used to ride me for working two and three jobs in
my studio days, when he came to visit me on Main Street in
Williamstown, with his mom, my first CUZZ Carol Mason. Moving this
on, he said his mom, Marie Heitzmann, had indeed relayed the message
from me in the early nineties, when I was trying to get in touch to
see how he was doing after his father had passed away. Quite simply
put, his dad and I were not the most harmonic personalities together,
and we clashed and he was not afraid to treat me shitty and I didn't
like it, and just as with family and relatives, I told my mom when I
turned 18, no more visiting family in Pennsylvania or New York, I'M
DONE. Why should I have to go places and be fuckiGN treated like cow
shit? But back to my beach story 'dream' with Jerry. He said someone
was reading my blogs to him, and he was really getting a kick out of
them and couldn't wait for me to introduce him to the great Sarah
Krassle. He was always fascinated by HER, even early in the
seventies, and I did tell him a lot about this wild girl of total
mystery. I remember however, in a semi-kind but stern tone, “Hey
Jerry, you acted like you don't know me or remember me a few minutes
back when I was calling you buddy, what gives”? He then took a
stick about a foot or a tad longer that was laying on the beach right
near where he was sitting next to my bright blue beach towel, and he
wrote the name SARAH KRASSLE, over and over and over. When he ran out
of room, he got up and cleared all kinds of new areas, making them
flat and easy to write on, and then again, writing HER NAME, over and
over, without so much as uttering a single word. Then he pointed the
stick at me and said, “You want the highway, go to the highway”,
and instantly, I was in a car that I did not recognize from this
parallel universe life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But what I want
to know, is there a parallel reality somewhere in virtually limitless
hyperspace, where I can be a parallel universe that did not recognize
that car? According to Professor Kaku of the great and powerful New
York City University, and the sidewalk-scientists of the Gary Stone
Club, a resounding YES ANSWER must pop up, with or without any thirty
year old unhealed wounds caused by Mister Munious. Don't laugh
people. Mathematics backs up every mother fuckiGN word on this blog,
and much much much much Ingrid-1984 more to boot,
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jane
fuckiGN whore bitch Fonda just got at me at one eleven this morning,
people. Let me compensate. I was positive that it was at least tow in
the fuckiGN cunt ass morning, but I was wrong. I am not always right
Clarence and Paul, but I do have quite a preponderance for being on
the non-left side of things, YO!
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I'm
getting real sick and cunt chewing tired of this shit,
JANEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Goddess Almighty for Christmas
sake. Yes, Johnny Faster, wow, you haven't changed any buddy, I'd
recognize you any place, dude!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
I
don't know what makes me sicker. Life, or not being dead. Holy
CALL-TEN AT&T Callio!
FEBRUARY
5, 2015,
THURSDAY
MORNING AT 1:22,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 69 DEGREES FNHT.
/
Now
you just listen to me you mother fucker Bob McGuire of Atlantic City.
If you're waiting for all of yer lepreekuhns to cheenge da picture
laddie, fear-get it, it warnt cheenge. But will the danger be great
and will today be too late for me, over at Cheltenham, Cuzz Donnie
Boy????????????????????? How did you know all of this you rotten
bastard, so far back in time. Oh of course, you're obviously one of
the ESS 4-crissake, like
DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!! COLOR ME MINE OR YOURS; OH GREAT ANN KING SILVA in
middle OHM-9, WEEEEEEEEE! 'OH
WOW', JOANNA-1979!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
''Here
you sit, broken hearted. You came to shit, and only farted''.
As I now proceed in the MORIANITY
story of great truth, and great sorrows; this description of anyone
reading and doubting, is very accurate; despite being taken from 1969
at a public bathroom stall; and was quite
well known in my generation.
There goes the fucking (`~) HACK again, FCC, Bob old pal,
MCDOWELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHERE
ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU, oh lovely
Pam Bondi, Attorney General of Florida
Like
Boo. Where
art thou?
Please
make this all stop, ALL HOT HOSE BUCKET PEOPLE EVERYWHERE, and Mizz
Bondi.
THANK
YOU beautiful LIGHTNING,
for coming around and visiting your little boy. So far, this is not
an appropriate PIP, as she won't come and visit me dam
it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
DDDDDDDDDDUH,
shove that fucking shit up your ass with that dam shit on the beach,
you bastards. You killed a beautiful Hammerhead. Make this shit
illegal, please PAM. TANKS lovely
blond!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hay Katharine, whassup
big lovely girl????????????????
YOU
MISSED ME, JANE
SLEAZEWEEDSDISEASE!!!
Except
for literally a single fucking hand-ful, EVERY
SINGLE DAY IS BOTBAR IN 2014 and 2015, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!POOR
FUCKING FOLKS HAVE RIGHTS TOO IN THIS WORLD, but
only those Jack McCoy rights they can defend.
If
we don't fight and shout out to authorities, they will end up taking
every cent from us,
and
leave us at their doorstep, to be THEIR
TOTAL FUCKING SLAVES;
and I refuse to go back to the days of
slavery!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
popped out of some wild NIGHTMARE when I was dreaming it was the
morning of August 15 in 1986. It seems I cannot ever get back to the
universe I left before I hit my bed, at that Cherry Hill home of
magic pharmaceuticals and soon to come MISS LEE TEENAILS!!!!!!!! Oh
Lordess (SAR)
(AH),
what
a lovely world I am stuck in.
It is not the world but a game called GTNOTG. Maybe I am tied up in a
shop on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, Geraldine Supergirl
Shahpals. WOW
MACY
STACEY
MACKEY.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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.
|
Advisory
Colors Key
|
|
|
|
Winter
Storm Watch
|
|
|
Flood
Warning
|
|
|
Non-Precipitation
Advisory
|
|
|
Flood
Statement
|
My
blogs, archive them.
THE
WEATHER BUG,
In
Partnership With
and
shared by this blogger, who may be contacted through:
Local Weather Cameras
Fort Pierce, FL 34950
Jupiter,
Florida, welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel
12-Television.
ALONG
WITH THE GREAT WEATHER BUG APP, WEEEE!
Oh
boy, life stinks, yet so many folks love life so much; and most are
scared shitless to die.
THIS
PARTICULAR TRANSMISSION TERMINATES NOW!
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