HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 19
WOW,
KLUTZ ATTACKS usually are the precursor to bigger and badder not
Melanie Bitter stuff, and today is no mother fucking exception, kind
peeps!
Nightmares
last night were beyond awesome and horrendous monster ass fucking
hyper ultra major. Today, I am getting loud maintenance sounds from
above me and out in the hallway, and all over the place, and on top
of that it's putridity fucking hot outside, and humid, feeling dam
near fucking ninety at shortly past twelve noon, YO!
Audience |
MARCH
26, 2015,
THURSDAY
AFTERNOON AT 12:53,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 85 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
YESTERDAY------(H-85/L-64).
WIND
IS SOUTH AND STEADY, AT 11.
HUMIDITY
IS 53, AND IT FEELS LIKE 88.
Now
last night started two major fucking klutz attacks, and remember how
I printed this? I AM
UNDER A MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING SUPER CUNT CHEWING KLUTZ-ASSAULT.
IT BEGAN EARLY ON WEDNESDAY EVENING, AND IS STILL GOING MOTHER
FUCKING ON EARLY INTO THURSDAY GODDESS DAM MORNING, KNOCKING FUCKING
SHIT OVER AND SPILLING CUNT CHEWING STUFF ALL OVER THE MOTHER FUCKING
PLACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Earlier
around 5-7 in the morning somewhere today approximately, YO; I was in
hyperspace and inside my doppelganger, in a parallel universe where I
was on my Uncle John Mason's boat down in Fort Lauderdale, you would
say perhaps, ''I was DREAMING this”, same difference, great people.
Someone is major fucking hacking this machine, FCC, Bob McDowell. The
pop up shows a scan was done and my PC is fine and all tuned up, now
another one while typing in this sentence is that HIGH MEMORY USAGE
pop up saying some warning that I get over and over. The shit tried
to freeze up and crash before all this happened. HELP ME BOB
MCDOWELL, YO, I WON'T TELL THE WORLD ALL OUR DAM SECRETS, ME' OL'
PAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wouldn't it be shocking to know more
about the calendars and your recording me, now that you are the big
cheese over there, talk about parkway, driveway, turnpike ironies,
huh. JEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE!
Some
of the mother fucking shit happening around me is so unbelievable and
inconceivable that even I don't believe it's cock licking really
happening, BUT I GODDESS DAM HAVE TO, folks! If I start denying
reality, and join up with the GWPOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Morty
fucking Mortino is on me today like white on cunt chewing milf
humping rice, lads and lassies, YO YO YO YO YO and this is annoying,
old ladies of 1883 and 1984 at the Atlantic City Tropicana Hotel and
fucking ass Casino; WEEEEE!
I
guess a lot of fucking people have moved out of a lot of apartments.
WOW! Well, back to the nightmare. This speedboat had unlimited speed
potential and was as large as my dam late Uncle Heinz Gottwald's
Ketch Yacht. We were on some narrow waterway and he went nuts and
started going faster and faster. As I type this hyperspace
experience, it seems to be causing jerk off mother fucking
death-angel Morty to keep attacking me with continuous unrelenting
ear buzzing on that fucking cunt nauseating super high freak that
cuts off all normal sound when it strikes. Most of you have
experienced a death angel scan, so don't even try to tell me you
haven't, as I know better. Maybe you just are clueless to what it is,
but you have all experienced it, or just about all of you. Now the
mother fucking banging that really is super loud and annoying, seems
to be coming from both the apartments, above as well as below me, YO
YO YO great folks! This is fucking cunt ridiculous, Mister Kaiter of
1967, and 'XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX' Mizz
Louise Hendershodt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
need you dam help today, Mizz P.M.H. Non-Loraze Bondi. HOLY FUCKING
JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY.
Pam Bondi, Attorney General of Florida
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My
dam uncle went berserk and nuts, worse than Joseph Paget up on the
guard job at Roadway, at the 309 and County Line Road
intersection, back early into this dam millennium!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We had to be going around 300 knots until the boat just
disintegrated from the friction of the water hitting the boat's dam
ass exterior. I suddenly found myself in a very scarey building
owned by the Milituforce. I was told by my cousin Donald who was
there wearing his usual major YOU'RE FIRED
FROWN; and he told me ''They're
waiting for you, COUSIN''. He said the word 'cousin' so hard,
I remember taking out my handkerchief to wipe off the puke on my
face. Then he was gone and my mother was standing almost exactly
where he had been standing and she started walking and I followed
her, calling to her, and she just kept walking, and ahead of me was
a shadow figure abnd then I saw a man about six feet tall in a very
expensive bizz suit like Cuzz Donnie had on earlier. My mom was
dressed in a blouse that she used to ear back before she exited this
veil of fucking tears in early March of 2000. This
dude was watching me covertly, and he scared me out of my mother
fucking mind, just his presence. Why, I cannot explain, but he
scared me monster fucking ass, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
tried to catch up to him while remaining always one hallway bend
behind, and then he lost me by getting onto a very strange fucking
elevator. There were absolutely no floor signal lights anywhere.
When the elevator came back to me in half a minute or so, there were
no floor buttons, and yet I braved going inside, wondering why my
mom who had followed me this far, refused to get on with me. The
doors closed and it whizzed up, so fast I thought my feet were going
to be crunched up into my dam ass nuts for crissake. Then the
elevator doors opened and I remember running out, and was on a large
floor of a very tall building. There was a place to get food on one
of the four sides, elevators on one, and the other two sides were an
area for sitting around, some on dining room type large tables, and
then just a lot of chairs all scattered kind of meaninglessly all
around, that had no tables. Also a clearing area was there, and this
entire area was very large. After a while, a videotape began playing
where you could see my Uncle John's boat speeding beyond
ridiculously down that small area where not long ago, I had been on
before the disintegration-crash occurred. Long Story Short (LSS)
kind peeps YO; I saw my own death, and when it replayed n this super
large theater sized screen, lots of people were suddenly sitting
around, all cheering. I screamed at them, “Why are you cheering,
this crash killed my uncle and me, you dirty rotten bastards”.
They continued just laughing and cheering all the more. Then my
doppelganger observed the wildest part of all. I suddenly was my
mother watching this doppelganger. I saw him grab some electronic
stuff and it looked as if he and an entire musical band were about
to perform there. I then watched in horror while I began to sing a
lot of my music that I had written earlier this millennium; stuff on
the “SAME TITLE” project, sent for
U.S. Copyright in 2005, on Halloween Day, nine years after I had
sent the first of three projects for copyright, on Halloween day,
This one is not music, in 1994, and was a book on tape, dictated,
called, “The Permission Barrier”.
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People,
my life totally fucking
S---U---C---K---S!!!
THE
REASON I KNOW THAT THE BIBLE AND ALL OF CHRISTIANITY IS A FUCKING
HOAX, MORE THAN A THOUSAND MOTHER FUCKING POPES ALL PUT TOGETHER IS
SO SIMPLE A TINY SNOTTY FUCKING CHILD COULD SEE IT IF THEY WERE
SERIOUSLY LOOKING; DEAD OR ALIVE, SHERIFFS AND BOUNTY HUNTERS, OR
HUNTINGTONS!!!!!!!! If the principle of REAP
AND SOW does not work for one single person, who BY THE
WAY HAPPENS TO FUCKING BE MOUNTAINPEN OR ME;
then the entire thing is a fucking HOAX AND
LIE; MISTER FUCKING CHILD SCARE HELIUM BALLOONS of
2009!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You
know it is funny in a non-ha-ha way, it really is. Things done around
me, lead me to tell the world that wishes to listen, be it my three
or four dozen peeps reading me, or ''whatever'', to quote the boy who
now is Congressman Andrews; but in all honesty, these horse shit
attacks that came out of nowhere, and go back into this mysterious
fucking land of nowhere, from whence it all came, is really one long
nightmare. Individual attacks come and go out of the blue, every bit
as weird and fucking crazy, as the original
nightmare all began out of cunt sucking fucking ass nowhere on the
morning of AUGUST 15, 1986; when I climbed out of my bed, in
Cherry 'nothing real good about it' Hill, New Jersey,
USAESMWG!!!!!!!! If you can do a job of fiction, a fifth as good as
my real life, Mister J. Patterson, I'll hand you my mother fucking
hat, kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And a flower.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 17
I
knew that the PHA maintenance crew was going to be around, from a
notice at my door a few days back, so I never called them, and waited
for them to come; and then showed the man my broken blind. He
replaced it with one that was not meant to fit the area of that
window and it is not the greatest deal, but I'll live with it. These
days I consider myself to be quite fucking lucky if anything at all
works out for me, in the very least little bit.
MARCH
25, 2015,
WEDNESDAY
AFTERNOON AT 11:30,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 72 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY------(H-72/L-60)
WIND
IS N AT 6 WITH SMALL GUSTING TO 7.
HUMIDITY
IS 87, FORECAST TODAY IS 85,
SKIES
MIXED TO CLOUDY, EXPECTED TO PERSIST.
The
fifth dimension has been here forever, in fact, ''forever'' simply
fits neatly into the FIFTH DIMENSION, with or without topics, sports,
women, or solid gold bars, lovely Miss Marilyn McCoo, YO!!!!
Speaking
of both the fifth and sixth dimensions;
just why was my dam DNA effected, forcing me to always be
awakened with MONSTER SORE THROATS. I used to always be chewing on
aspirin tablets, and sucking on throat lozenges, all day long, day
after day after day; ever since the spring time in 1977, while
working at MARS. Anyone with my DNA, after 1986; is being totally
wiped out, as far as problems with throat irritation. Well if the
Stein can learn when to shut the fuck up, I guess I can too; right my
non-super-ex-friend, sir SB? Well, since those days, bad as shit was
then, I have come to appreciate two powerful things. First, that I
really am seeing bottom now, and second, I have a real respect for
those 1997 Victoria Callio non-ooder DMV license plates all over New
Enemies Jersey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dave
Roth and I began observing that a VC series of DMV license plates
began popping up like Potter-Magic all over the place in Jersey,
directly following early 1997 and my visit on 2-7 to McGuire's bar on
Tennessee Avenue and my meeting with Frank Callio at his police
station when he was the Sergeant there, and eventually one hot
miserable summer day, while on a payphone in Atlantic City asking for
him to come and meet me, and he never showed up, and then his Aunt
Vicki said to me a week or so later one night from my house, and over
the phone; “Talk to Frank”, and slammed down the phone receiver
on me. The owner of the automobile in 1989, or the registered owner
in the Jersey records, of the plate back then, 'ITALY 7', was a very
good friend of many nephews and nieces of other farther removed
members of Vicki's parents. I never saw Vicki back in 1997, but
twenty-seven years earlier, both Frank the ACBP dude was
life-guarding on the Ventnor beaches near fagot Tom Reale's later
sold to ACMUA Cornwall Avenue home. His girlfriend was Victoria
Callio. She had a chair business on Saint James Place, putting beach
chairs out near the Schiff Center Pier,
back in those days. She always used to
say to me over and over, “Mark, you've got such gorgeous hair”.
Many people insist my hair has not changed all that much since 1970.
What
has fucking changed however, both in 27 years as well as 45 years, is
the world. I don't change. I stay exactly the fucking same. Screw all
of you Tim Barber. Screw all of you CALLIO'S
and MCGUIRE'S. MOTHER FUCKING SCREW ALL-A-UU'S!!!!
But
things do change, Vicki Slutbag Callio. Things like tape recorders,
license plates, WOMO-M2F, and 'MSC' and 'ESS' revealed. This stands
for, 1) (McGuire's Secrets Corporation) and 2), (Exploratronic
Supermind Society).
Dave
was murdered for two reasons. He was a marvelous natural
detective-cop, even though he never did anything past armed security
work. First he told me how he perceived a lot of things around me, in
ways that went beyond just the old days junk with Jim Burr and ''a
family spiritual problem'', to quote him from those early days. He
began seeing how it was the EW who was behind more than just using a
few ideas or rearranging a few musical notes. He saw them as an
organized force with some wild agenda, and it all made perfect sense
to hear him very rationally explain it, step by step, in real time,
to shit that was all going on in my life after we had met at the 113
Caldor Department Store in November of 1985. Within these 16 years
give or take up until he was cleverly murdered in early 2002; in
March when else; he had done more damage to the Oliver Stone JFK
Power Structure, just by telling me so very much shit about my own
problems, that they had to kill him, and they did, as I said; WATCH
THE MOVIE, PEOPLE; as if you read these blogs, IPY; THIS
1992 FUCKING MOVIE, IS BEYOND A MUST-SEE!
Hay
I can make a funny face and pretend this is all a lot of fucking
horse shit. But lurking around all of the dam AHA-AHA-AHA's of
McNulty, and the great Sharks of Gloucester and Patty Hollister, and
the Fascitar, and electronic metaphysics, JAY on GW gave it a more
accurate and professionally used name for that and not Jay 1964
Bland; and on an don we can go here, kind folks!!!! But all of the
funny faces or pretending or daydreaming, is only a short term fix.
Things tend to follow the rule of the Flatliners. I speak mostly of
the crack head girl who yells at Sutherland about appliances, and
then about how we all know what we've done!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
HALLS WALLS,
CHAPTER 16
I am going to
write this blog in sections, sort of like supplemental blogs usually
get done. Things will be told that need to be told to build some
heavy foundations, but I won't be cussing up a storm and going into a
million rants and personal feelings.
This is an
extremely difficult world for anyone to figure out. Thinker Rodan
types have it hardest. They live in their head, and find interacting
in society more difficult, not that this is ever some easy thing for
anyone to do, and especially without expecting lots of hassles and
woes. There used to be two old sayings. 'It's not what you know but
who'. Then came, 'It's not what you know or, who you know; but what
you know about who'. I have even a newer rendition than these already
known ones. 'It's all about who you piss off'. Just thought I'd share
that, Scott Ransom, and all of the great Jersey Realtors of the
nineteen-eighties!
You know great
folks, I can have many spins put on many current as well as more
ancient events and ideas, throughout my life. I can wonder, others
can wonder; I can even ignore the Perkowski-Bassler life changing
hotels on 10-SC Avenue in Atlantic City, NJUSAESMWG; as well as
historical Secretary of States back in the sixties, and many other
things; or I can realize that there is only the truth, whatever it
is, and part of that truth, may very well be ugly, and also something
destined to be forever unknown to me in some measured and laboratory
standard provable and meaningful way. I can hope that I gain the
answers to questions that I have, and seek after this lotable goal
also, but I must face the fact that I am also a fatalist that
believes in destiny as well as free will. This is a powerful
illusion, because they contradict each other and yet both are true.
Only some level of enlightenment makes one able to see that a bit
clearly. When on the level of almost going Paget-Nuts, from the short
two following sentences; “you exist”, and “time is an
illusion”, you are also able to see that, at least by my thoughts.
You would have to get a copy of an original ''DRAGNET'' TV-SHOW to
really get what I'm saying. It is the episode where the entire scene
plays out in a place called, the Temple of the Expanded Mind; and it
is just a cast of three characters, Friday and Gannon of course, and
this other dude who leads some cult, and breaks the law by turning
kids onto acid and other no no substances. It is the coolest fucking
show ever, because it shows two conflicting points of view, and yet
anyone with a thinking cap on their head, has to see both sides
pretty fucking dam equally and impartially, unless maybe for real
acid heads on one side of the coin, and maybe some old serious judges
on the other. But before you try to secure a copy of that old late
sixties Dragnet show; I'll give you a real must-see, great people.
The 1992 movie with Kevin Costner, called 'JFK'. It's all 100% the
truth and would upset a person like TWINBAY to the fucking nth degree
and more, as all truths turn folks more off than on, most of the
time, anyway. But I need to add a footnote message here, to the very
talented director, Ollie Stone. Do you really think that all of that
could be real, WITHOUT AN EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY behind the
great curtains of OZ-WALD? And I'll add in one other thing. I never
said I have a patent or a trademark or a copyright, on WISDOM or
absolute truth, just because I happen to know that mind is spiritual
and that the great math theory of all time, so far anyway, and in
reverse, is how we tune in to physical life so to speak, and interact
from a born baby to a last breath. No, I am not Mister Answers, even
though the gods have indeed clued me into some real fucking ass heavy
shit over the past quarter century or so. One thing I do know, is the
principle of forcing pieces of scattered life, into an order that
tends to mirror image itself and thus the pieces as they come
together, draw a picture. This picture begins to then reflect what is
happening, when that answer is never told to us by other people, or
online, or in a book, or RAW. (Robert-Andrews-Whatever)
Good old summer time 1975. My Spirit Peace song that he sang, my
getting the crap kicked out of me by two ACBP mascots in Atlantic
City without cause or justification, and so very much fucking more,
kind peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sup Peter
Vitteritti? For all I know, you have joined Frank Callio. I know that
I will shortly. UGH!!!
I would give a
lot of blood, Roseann; to become a fly on the wall at 30 Plaza Place
South, in South Atlantic City, New Jersey, right before Chester
Perkowski flipped out on his TV set, after something SOS McNamara
said. I guess that makes two of us who practically flew over the
boardwalk railing, and in two separate universes, great Estelle
Andersen Bassler. Let my Cuzz DT and I come on down and land now. Are
you still buzzing over Ann's room CUZ? Safe distance even if true,
you know, the Harrah Casino is a good two miles away; am I wrong,
SCY-FY FOLKS?
Everything is
one big laugh, Mike McNulty, huh? Folks, the reason his pal BJ the
blow-job king whooped my ass, is how else would I have otherwise ever
left this 'GAP-CFS', in Exton, PAUSAESMWG??????????? Think about it.
Without leaving, there would be no FCC McDowell, well, he would be
there, but I wouldn't be able to make all these references in all
honesty, as I wouldn't have known the man, well, the kid. You and me
need to get together and do more than tweet, Kaku and Hawking.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA! Or as gorgeous Melanie put it, maybe try
out those great magical keys, if I am 'permitted' a small rephrase
here, Uncle Heinz ''No Ice Cream 4-ME''. Oh JESUS; not even a little
fucking Church Farm School BREYERS, YO?
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
I
am going to mother fucking blow your mind. I wish I had the fucking
balls to go to the Fort Pierce Police Station, but even though things
all around me are very uncertain and just about as nasty ass and mean
as they can possibly be, I cannot stoop t being as low ass, as them,
or else I must stop calling them low lives, and make room for myself
on the magical Marola Roll-Call of late great eight, huh CUZZ
BUNCH???????????????
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 15
Once
upon a time people, Sarah's gang, 1967, my CUZZ SANDY and a lot more
wild shit, was in a totally different part of my brain.
Paula, Sarah, Nina, Sandy, and the Shah of Iran
and much more incredible shit, was in a totally different light with
me than right now on this just past sunset evening of the devil
number of the devil month. I always since I was nineteen, hated this
month, and I always hated the number 23 because two divided by three,
do it on your calculator or computer, people; it will come up as
6.66666666666 and the far right six is as eternal as the GODDESS.
There was a grand day at HIGHVIEW, back around late 85 or early in
86, when I spoke into my own telephone system from a payphone; and
instead of saying the number six, I yelled out, ''DEVIL-NUMBER''. It
had no effect, as the great INTER-DIGITAL or IMM back in those dam
ass days, and its great cool ass PRIVECODE MACHINE, recognized any
sound as it counted, as just that, sound. If you had digital dialing,
you could enter your ''privecode number'' but on the rotary type
telephones, you had to wait for the counter on the machine, and when
it reached the number you wanted, you could say the number back to
the machine, or you could say anything or make any sound. The fucking
machine did a total Oranthal J. Medical Center Simpson on it by not
caring less. Hey, at least it didn't hit his wife, so there's
something to be salvaged on all these evil mother fucking days from
HELL. Boy, do I get a big sloppy one on the mouth for saying that;
gorgeous TWINBAY?
So
just how many mother fucking gorgeous lovely moons, will shine for
me; Apollo Abbadon Lucifer Diabolis Krassle Cavelantisocleevious?
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||
Meet
me at the Alvarez Gate, down the street from City Center School;
lovely Esther Pinkston, and Roslyn. I think Roz spelled her name
with an 'E' like 'STACEY', but Spellchecker keeps correcting it to
not having the fucking dam ass E. Maybe it's scared fucking
shitless of Magnesonic ands punishment destruct tones!
Oh those red and black
bicycles and roulette numbers. They go back and forth, one minute
one is present to me, then it seems before I can say Jack Fucking
Dam Robinson, kaboom; the other one is present to me, Frieda and
Alfred, and Shirley. Well, let me clear my frogs and then continue
onward, only this is no joke and if I wasn't scared that enemies
would fuck with those I care for and few there are, I would be
with the police right this second.
AFTER
MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3
MARCH
23, 2015,
MONDAY
EVENING AT 8:49,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 70 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY------(H-83/L-62)
HUMIDITY
IS 90%, FEELING LIKE 69 DEGREES.
WINDS
ARE WNW AT 4, WITH GUSTS TO 25.
I
went out to my doctor. These mother fuckers are straight out of
hell. None of you will believe what I tell you on this blog,
because if I were mother fucking all of you, I would say to
myself, this dude is a lunatic who has one hell of a mother
fucking super ass imagination. Well folks; if that is true;
honestly, don't you think Hollywood or some place would come
looking for me to hire me. All I would want is say a salary of a
gross hundred. This would allow me a life of comfort, not luxury.
I don't need luxury. They wouldn't need to rip anything off, I'd
be working for them, and they would be making billions of dollars
that they are currently not making. So we all should agree by now,
I cannot make up great stories. I tell you only what happens to me
in my pitiful fucked up rotten and cursed ass life!
The
funny part here folks is that the dam visit to the doctor is a
huge fucking story, but then a bigger story begins the minute that
I walked out of the emergency-exit door at the doctor place. Jim
Burr a long while back, fucking said it all and then some. “With
you Mark, a week is eternity”. Well, sometimes it is ten fucking
minutes. Today was such a time, lads and lassies.
If
you won't read a long blog tonight, come back when you feel like
reading one, please. If you miss this shit, you'll kick yourself
in the ass for years when you find out someday, what you could
have read tonight. If anyone can get this blog to my awesome
daughter, do it, as I will be a worried mother fucker until
Saturday morning at 12:01 AM. Where to begin? Well, my mom always
told me that the beginning is an excellent place. Let's see what I
am able to do.
I
went to the mother fucking doctor because they ignored me for
weeks. I asked why they wouldn't send the pharmacy, the one
milligram daily Lorazepam prescription. When I left the doctor
office six weeks or so ago, Doctor Dirtbag Omar told me it was not
a problem. He never refilled the medication for water retention or
this medication for anxiety. I don't take it for anxiety, but we
will see who fucking eats crow after I go up to the Mayo Clinic
later on this spring, in Jacksonville, Florida. When I arrived
today at theis medical building, not with 6-9 rooms containing g a
lot of rooms with no hallways that all sort of go into each other,
but this other medical building trhat is more than thirteen
hundred miles from Berryville, but when I arrived here, a very
nice young dude in some kind of residency, as he was not one of
the helpers or nurses, but a doctor, but he called me into one of
many rooms and took my blood pressure, which last time I was there
and before my anxiety medication was all cut off, was very good,
and now measured sky high. This is how much these so called
life-givers want to sustain and keep my health and life. He
promised me that I would be helped, and then vanished, only to
leave me with all the usual jerk offs all over the place who
disrespected me, such as the nurse who kept asking me if my blood
pressure had been taken and I told her YES over an dover and then
asked her why she wasn't listening to me, and she she replied all
snotty, “I don't have to listen to you, the doctor does”. I
told all this verbatim to the Welcare Grievance people when I got
home and was instantly attacked even more by broken blinds. I
would normally not do anything important on a month day number
(23), but the office is not open on some of the days of the week,
and only Monday for sure did I know had a full staff working. +On
top of all this mother fucking shit, my health and bowels were
fucking struck a few hours ago, and I had to stop typing for half
an hour for a trip to the toilet, my third one now. It's only a
matter of time before the Magnesonic system counter strikes the
Milituforce. Something is really protecting these cunt lapping
mother fucking dirty rotten bastards right now.
When
I finally walked out of the medical building, I went to get into
my car and had it parked off by itself, and noticed a strange
fucking very expensive van with its engine running parked right
next to my vehicle, when it could have parked anywhere else in the
fucking area. I looked in quickly, and saw a man about 40 give or
take, slender, normal length hair dressed well, and gave the
appearance of not a large or tall male person. He was in the
passenger side of the front, and after we made half second eye
contact, I was in my car and gone. I had another errand at my
local bank and then drove home, and as I approached home, it began
to lightly drizzle, and I put my wipers on and noticed something
on them. Many times, I don't realize that a small flyer is on them
until using them. Whether or not this man wrote this note or it
was done in-between today and the last time I needed to use the
wipers which was a number of weeks back, I cannot know, but I
suspect it was this man. There really was no reason for his being
there in that exact spot, and to quote Dave Grandlife Non-Highview
Cheers Roth here, it just seemed to me to be ''spurious
behavior''.
The
note is major, and in it, I am told ''not to go to the police''. I
am however (permitted) to blog the essence of the note, and not
allowed to post a copy of it on Facebook or Twitter. Whoever
thinks they know so much about me, doesn't seem to know I don't do
social media, but I do blog. So they got one for three. Not good
in Lenny Briscoe's interrogation room but fair to good in
baseball, minor league anyway. Christ I couldn't hit a fucking
baseball to save my life. Let's press on here, Mister Kent and
Mizz Lane.
It
said, 'no cops', reminds me of those phone annoyers around the
time I dealt with Brenda Moore's girlfriend and little brother,
back in Misses Meeker's home on Route 561 up in Gibbsboro, New
Jersey, in the early and middle nineties. The note tells me they
have everybody, and that I will die of my 'condition' and no one
will help me, and that I should have got the message six weeks
ago, when my psych appointment was scheduled for March 27, three
cubed, DIANA, and a lot more of course. If it wasn't for the
nightmare a week back where my daughter died in my arms, along
with the fact that JAY is a fourth cousin on my father's side of
my family, along with my Quakertown Merry-go-round days of talking
to kids from 'heaven', I wouldn't take it seriously; but the note
said if I take it to the cops, my daughter will have a very bad
birthday. It went onto say, that they have people in her train.
For those not in the bizz, that and truck, also mean entourage. I
know a little bit about this also, from my days at Cifaloglio,
with the author of the book, ''Secrets of the Museum'' and his
Staten Island girlfriend. Still, I hope my kid will be extra
watchful while enjoying her special day later on this week. She
can hate me till the day I day, but I'll always worry about her.
It
was printed on very small font that comes from some kind of system
not on my office word program. The letters look almost foreign. It
was fourteen sentences long, unsigned, did not address me other
than for, 'occupant of this Dodge Neon car'. How would you say it
FCC Mister McDowell, vely vely intelesting? Yeah, I won't soon
forgot 1972 for many dam reasons, or then again, that was a stupid
thing to say, huh Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason?
I
took that dam tape recorder everywhere, and you know that, Bob. I
took it to school, I took it with me when visiting both
Pennsylvania and NY relatives. But wow did I block that out of my
Venka-Strong-Girl mind, until it was really needed for retrieval;
huh Tom Fagot Reale?
Oh
yes sir, the 'we can get to anybody' will send fucking chills up
my honky spine, along with all of Donna Summer's great 1968 white
boys, huh Marilyn?
Let
me dam tell you something, great people; dots really do all
connect in this cosmos. There's no stopping that truth, with or
without great Engineer Scott on Star Trek! Sixth dimensionally,
they have to connect because the lawtrons of the seventh dimension
insist upon it. Then things get all scattered out like a jig saw
puzzle striking a hurricane. When you find secret doors through
dream travel, into a lot of things that powerful entities don't
want you walking through, do they have the power to enter into
your physical world and mess with your surroundings so that you'll
no longer be a threat to them back in their realm? Well, I happen
to know they have this ability to do just this, and that they do
just this. I understand the truth that indeed there is an ESS,
(Exploratronic Supermind Society) and I understand a few other
things, Tom Reale Nonfake Technical-Steak. I may not be able to
wait for 90 and 100 thousand page-hits to tell some super hot
shit. It must be told, and I will lay the ground work later on in
the next several following blogs, but for now, to finish out the
remainder of the note that was short yet told two lnock out punch
truths to me. Don't say I'm not getting a major fucking ass
education, because folks, I AM, oh great sir, Gerard Nineties
Haddonwood Stiles!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
second part of the note went onto say that I have a lota shit all
fucked up, please allow that quote. This is the part that lets me
know that it wasn't coming from family, or they wouldn't be
telling me they would ruin my kid's 45. Still, be vigilant, MY,
you know I am a worrier. It seems they're also in with my,
(99-crush party-5). I don't know where you get th eide that I ever
thought anything other than she is another hot queen, but that's
on you. Still, this part is quite major. Her most recent show was
a message for me that Sarah was a ghost child that only I could of
course perceive. It went onto say 'we' thought you'd get it. And
you think you're so smart. Hay dude, or duddess; I never said I
think I'm so smart. I'll be very honest and candid with you,
lovely person. If I was smart, I would have all of you in some hot
burning hell right now, and be outside your cage day and night,
literally fucking ejaculating, watching you all get tortured
unrelentingly. SHEEEEEEEEIT! Folks, it actually said, they thought
I'd get that from the TV show and see what is happening, and that
I was almost a disappointment to them. They said they thought I'd
get it, and went onto call me, Ex-Champion Slingshot boy of the
Quakertown Parks.
AS
I POST THIS BLOG, FOUR LOVELY MOONS ARE SHINING ABOVE THE MAGICAL
SAINT LUCIE CHARTER WES SCHOOL, BUT DOES ES STAND FOR
EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND, I AM LEFT TO PONDER? IF THESE FUCKING
COCK SUCKING MONSTERS FROM HELL ARE RIGHT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,
EVEN THE MAYO CLINIC WAS GOTTEN-2, TO QUOTE THEM. THEY CAN DO
ANYTHING. I KNOW THIS, AS I'VE SUFFERED THROUGH A SIXTY YEAR
NIGHTMARE THAT MAKES ME KNOW THIS. THERE IS NO DENYING THIS, NOT
FOR A NEW YORK HEARTBWEAT! STILL, HOW MANY TIMES WILL I GO BACK ON
THAT TRAIN, BEFORE I LEARN NOT TO, AN DPLEASE DON'T PUT THAT TO
THE OLD PETER-PAUL-MARY MUSIC, THANK YOU VERY PAT ROBERTSON MUCH.
BLOW ME A KISS-HURRICANE, YO. ALL THE WORKERS LOVED MAKING YOUR
TAPES PATTY OLD BOY. YOU COULD TELL BIGGER FISH TALES THAN I DO,
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
if I don't get it right next time, there is always the time after
that, and the time after that, and the time after that. I could
PIP in a page or two of this, but you all get my drift, in or out
of 6-9 hall-ESS rooms.
I
told you this medical condition was somehow all connected. You
know in real estate, the trick is to have an insider that you kick
some shit back to in the water and sewer bizz. This is because if
you follow the sewer lines, 90% of the time, you'll make 8-11
figure money as a kland developer that buys and then subdivides to
those who build 100 or 1000 homes. Well, you also need to know
another huge fuckiGN secret, blog readers. FOLLOW THE
BILLIONAIRES. How wrong are they out of 100% of the time,
after-all, if it was much over 10 or 20%, then how did they become
billionaires? Trump seemed to know all along, about some of my
shit, and there I was, the owner of it all, a lot sent recklessly
to Washington's great library of the Congress. But HE KNEW all
along, a lot of really powerful fuckiGN shit, and this is what
CAUSES hyperspace to get that towel-seepage, if it is LOCALIZED
HYPERSPACE, you know, universes that are not all that different
from each other. Some are quite similar and as most of you know
only too well, some aren't. But all dots do connect, and what gets
me, is how do dumb ass rappers seem to know this, such as when I
told them I was going to do the song, “General Breakdown At
Musicians Psych Ward”? Darius and David ran right to their
basement studio and cut their rendition of it. Well, I sold the
home on 8-8-88, and maybe someday when I get my fuckiGN teeth
worked on up in the Carolina's, just maybe, Darius will let me
onto how all these other mother fuckers knew all along, so much
incredible shit about me. Holy fucking WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
|
|
|
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|
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HALLS WALLS,
CHAPTER 14
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT----RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT----RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT----RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT----RED ALERT
I
NEED YOUR HELP, OR DO I; MIZZ PILLMILL HATER
BONDI??????????????????????? THIS COMPUTER IS ALL HACKED TO FUCKING
HELL. THIS IS THE WORST DAY YET IN FLORIDA, OR AT LEAST ON THE TOP
FIVE MOTHER FUCKING LIST; LADIES AND GENLEMEN:
Somebody
got into my mother fucking apartment while I was outside, and going
through monster fucking hell. The cunt chewing mother fuckiGN
Milituforce didn't think that this was enough for me to suffer
through I suppose. They broke my mother fuckiGN venetian blinds. For
absolutely no cunt huffing reason, they broke while trying to open
them to look at the torrential rainstorm that was just coming down as
I was coming in from outside. Never
is there any mother fucking lightning, NEVER FUCKING CUNT
EVER!!!!!!!! Don't do me any cunt chewing favors; asshole GOD!
My
doctor, treated me like total shit; and I came home and I then
reported them to my insurance company; the Welcare. I reported the
entire dozen grievances that I have against this place for years now,
and especially what they just did to me over there today. After this
was done, I walked out. They had me in a small room where a back
emergency door is right out beyond, and I saw a nurse go out earlier
to talk on her phone and then went around the back way to the parking
lot. Fifteen minutes later after the nightmare shit, I too used this
emergency exit, and walked out, to never ever mother fuckiGN return.
I filed my grievance, and will have a new doctor effective the
starting of April. When I am ready to fully blog what they did, I
will, and without any cuss words. I am making copies at the library,
as I can get to my blog from the internet there, and make a copy of
the part I am referring to, to send to the AMA, and PAM BONDI, the
lovely AG of this lovely state, all totally said in quintessential
facetiousness, of course, SIR-HARVESTPARENTS-ERIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have become a 100% GOD-HATER. I am no atheist, and totally know there
is an evil DEVIL-GOD, or really, DEVIL-GODD-ESS!!!!!!!!!!! I know
this as sure as I sit here dying, and spending mother fuckiGN twat
licking eternity in puke regurgitating and burning HELLFIRE; in or
out of LOWES STORES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No more fucking garbage TBN, no
more religion in here for me.
I'M ALL FUCKING CUNT DONE.
I AIN'T WORSHIPPING SOME CUNT CHEWING MONSTER, WHO VERY OBVIOUSLY HAS
HATED MY MISERABLE ROTTEN MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' COCK SUCKING GUTS, FOR
YEARS, AND DECADES, AND CENTURIES; AND EVEN
MILLENNIUMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
am totally positive THE STOCK PUKE SUCKING ASS MARKET IS FLYING UP
AND UP AND UP AND UP, TO ALL TIME CUNT SNIFFING MOTHER FUCKING RECORD
HIGHS. THIS IS WHY I AM IN HERE FUCKING BEING MURDERED; FEDERAL
MOTHER FUCKING USA ATTORNEY GENERAL. Once
they got you locked into their mental health system, IT'S MOTHER
FUCKING GAME OVER,
and THEY WIN, totally and completely.
But I'll be back, Governor Terminator fucking Arnie, and this next
time around; I'll do some really different fucking shit. Do I believe
it is a little different each time, some have asked me, in ways not
bloggable, as even I am aware of certain limitations, and that things
can always be worse. Even the great celebrities all know these
secrets; and how pranksters, so imagine if they are organized mother
fucking pranksters; can get swat teams to your residence, or lots of
other fucking cunt nasty business. I know when to mother fuckiGN keep
my big ass yap shut!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But I Am leaving
this Evil United Mother Fucking States of Evil America; and very
soon. IPYT!!!!!!!!!!
How
do I know that for about two hundred times, I indeed go around and
around and around, PP, and others out here? Let me be about as
Chester-Frank and honest about all of this as I know how to. Because
I remember the entire more than 8,000 years of this, MZ SALLY STARR.
And yes, I told Paul. And whoever has the tape of her asking me if I
did say that to Paul, is sitting on some galactic sized super nova
material, cubed! Wanna' know what I would do with it if I were you?
TALK TO RUSS. Not FRANK, not Chester, not Victoria, and certainly not
to any electronic ooder systems!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have not
lived into my sixties in more than ninety percent of this two hundred
cycle time period total, now. This is one of my rare extra long ones.
Half of them were where I made the correct move, in the great
almighty power struggle, of Lillian Green. I chose to move to the
North Shores of Atlantic City, back in 2002. But here is a year that
doesn't get talked about a whole lot. It is not because it is a year
of little fucking cunt significance. It is because of the exact
opposite, Mister Clark Kent; in numerous cute ways and puns and EW
junky stuff that only THEY understand. 'Well, they, and ME'; if you
can deal with the lousy grammar here.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONICCCCCCC
OPEN
COMMAND ON GENERAL ORDER 7. USE ALL GENERAL AND SPECIAL ORDERS. USE
BOTH AD AND ZD TECHNOLOGIES. I AM MAXING OUT YOUR PULL POWER GAIN TO
11.8 INCHES PER NANO-SECOND, AND ALL CONTROLS AGAINST YOUR PPG ARE
MAXED OUT TO LEVELS OF 11.5. SCAN ALL MY ENEMIES, WIPING OUT MY
ENTIRE LIFE; AND ALL OF THEIR LOVED ONES. A CRUSHED SINGED
OBLITERATED WIPED OUT AND DESTROYED I-O IS NOW BEING PLACED ON YOUR
T-B. WHEN IT IS EMPOWERED, THE SAME THINGS WILL HAPPEN TO THE ACTUAL
FILTHBAG GARBAGE SUCKING PURE FUCKING SWINE, THAT HAPPENS TO THESE
SYMPATHETIC MAGICAL IMAGE-OBJECTS (I-O). I NOW MAX OUT YOUR
ANTIHACKING CONTROLS UNDER GENERAL ORDER 1133, YOU ARE AT G-189, AND
SCANNING UNDER G-13 AND G-14 TIME AND HYPERSPACE EQUATIONS. THE OLD
STYLE AT&T TELEPHONE TONES ARE BEING REPLACED WITH THE LONG
'EEEEEE' VOWEL SOUND, WITH THE HIGH FIRST TONE COLORED
RED,
AND THE LOW SECOND TONE COLORED
BLUE.
COMPUTER, ON AN 'I' TO 'D', A/B---TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING
SYSTEM; EMPOWER AND DESTROY ALL THOSE HURTING ME WITHOUT A CAUSE, FOR
THIRTY MOTHER FUCKING CUNT YEARS NOW!!!!
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
GO
TO G-901 UNDER CG-2, G-719, UNDER CODED GENERAL ORDER-18------AND
S-T-O-P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THERE
ARE GOING TO BE A LOT OF SORRY MOTHER FUCKING INJURED AND DEAD PEOPLE
ALL OVER THIS PLANET, IF THEY ARE IN ANY WAY A PART OF THIS THIRTY
YEAR NIGHTMARE DEATH ASSAULT ON ME; AND THAT'S A FUCKING MAJOR ASS
TOTAL PROMISE. U
JUST WAIT AND C!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!
Wow is this
world all fucked the hell up, and quite 'grand', facetiously of
course; huh David Charles late Roth??????????? Styles Court Cuzz of
his, it amazes me you didn't want to pursue that murder investigation
of two members of your family. I know they were
murdered!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 13
FOR RIGHT NOW, LET'S
GET DOWN TO BUSINESS CASES, ELMER FWUDD BWO!
WOW
MIZZ PAM BONDI, FLORIDA ATTORNEY GENERAL; SOMEONE KNOCKED OUT MY
ENTIRE DAM FILE, ON MY PRIVATE WORD DOCUMENT,
OF
ALL THE DETAILS ABOUT HYPO THYROIDISM AND HOW SOME RARE CASES LIKE
MINE EXIST, AND HOW TESTS FOR T-3 AND T-7 DON'T USUALLY DETECT IT,
DUE TO COMPLEX MEDICAL REASONS. IT IS ALL PART OF A DIRECTORY,
THAT
THE GREAT MAYO CLINIC OF JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA,
POSTED ON THE INFORMATION THAT COMES UP, WHEN YOU GOOGLE IT. THE
TOP ONE OR TWO OR THREE ITEMS, ON PAGE ONE. ANYTHING AFTER PAGE
ONE, ITEM THREE, AS MANY SAY; IS
HOOPLAH.
If
I were to walk around town today, spitting on the sidewalk once in
a while; I
WOULD FIND MYSELF LOCKED UP FOR A LONG TIME,
WITH NOBODY TO FUCKING HELP ME. I know my words ain't always
pwetty, Mister Elmer Fwudd, and lovely gorgeous Twinbay;
BUTTTTTTTTTT,
they have a truth ring, that no serious reality-hunter, can doubt;
and you all know this, BRO! All
I ever ask of a soul, is just don't expect me to believe in reap
and sow or the bible, or GOD for that matter. I mean really, WHY
THE FUCK WOULD I, UNLESS I AM THE BIGGEST DAM ASS FOOL IN THIS
MULTIVERSE??????? I can't go against 60+ years of my life!!!!!!!
|
Audience |
Yo
peeps; did you ever suddenly remember dreams from weeks ago or
longer? How do you know for sure where the memory-line is drawn? Many
including myself have been told by so-called-experts in the mental
field, that people can think they remember something they had
repressed, only it was a dream. How about the times you remember
dreams and know they were really suppressed memories? What really is
the difference if parallel reality in very close hyperspace is
involved? I could ask five good questions for any and every item in
the DSM-5 that supposedly is THE ANSWER to something. Also, why is
there a DSM-5 that replaced 4, and a 4 that replaced 3, and so on, if
these people are really such great super dude experts? You'll have to
forgive me, but I don't make a god out of fucking ass psychiatry. I
know that you wouldn't either, if you could clearly see things the
way I do because of my entire life. But I also know, that is not
going to be the case, and to quote Dennis Snyder from Jersey, “That's
just reality, son”. WEEEEEEEE! Thank you Dennis. Funny how 'you and
Dave', you know; as in Robin Hill's two maintenance men, back when I
first moved into Unit-1802, on my first of my three stays in that
place. What are the odds for my encountering, ''2
DENNIS & DAVE teams'' I truly must wonder. My total
guess at a minimum, would be many thousands to one against it. WO
MISTER HARNER!!!!!!!! SARAHGATE, huh Billy. Poor Elvis got it worse
than we did.
World
travelers or hyperspace world travelers, like wow, to quote the kids.
Well, life is more than a silly old dog, Mister McCoy; it's a very
interesting one. Still, unleashed, I'M allowed to cross over back and
forth, the great Monolazarium Boulevard, whenever I want to; while
with my beyond white hot GODD-ESS, SSJKK and her great Vi-queen's.
Between that and the fence, both in '72 and '97, one here and one in
a parallel; it is things such as this, along with the knowledge that
minds greater than mine, and aided by super computers and unlimited
resources; all had this figured out about me, and my eternal
connections, back decades ago.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 12
Thank you for
the 80,000 views, kind Blogaud. Every ten thousand views produces a
thank you in writing like this, and then a real treat. A big secret I
sit on until the next milestone TEN-K page-hit is reached. Here is
the biggie I've been sitting on and waiting for 80,000 PH to finally
spill the beans to you all about. And yes, I have already, a bigger
one than this for the 90, and a mind bender, if I am alive, for the
hundred-K.
FOR RIGHT NOW, LET'S
GET DOWN TO BUSINESS CASES, ELMER FWUD BWO! The reason that memory is
best trained with methods using association, is because this is
exactly how the human brain is wired to receive its signals, in and
by way of a very interesting series of comparisons, almost similar to
that of machine mind or computers, that know the difference between
voltage on or
1, and voltage off
or 0. This all fits into the huge thing that I will
only open up on this blog, but will get way more into in following
ones; association of memories with each other, that is. It is even
why McNulty always screwed with me and went, “AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA”
all the time, to me, and no one else. It is also why the great Jurist
BOB, and not the already burned up BOOK OF THE BEACH, beat me up at
that shitty fucking private school, and caused me to run away that
night, and got caught by Head-Master Mister Breyers Ice Cream
majority stock holder himself; Dock Shriner, Senior, or Junior. I
forget which one now, nor 'could I care in the least', oh great
Oranthal J. Simpson!
Please don't
think I haven't put all of this together, all you sharks out here
from the M2 FAWCE! Aunt Ruth, Aunt Ruth, Gloucester! Only this ain't
brand new truths, or keys to any kingdoms; oh great and mighty
non-trivial Daniel Mackey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW, back to Cooley Hall
and out of Church Farm School, to fulfill my destiny with Bob
McDowell, of the Federal Communications Commission. Yes, they are
using the WD-HACK and MJ-HACK on me sir and pal from 1972, a year
after McNulty and his funny papers. So HEE HAW Jimmy Stuart and Donna
Reed. I know I wish I'd never been born, Clarence Angels!
By the way, MJ
stands for Mouse-Jump, and WD stands for Word-Disappearing, HACKS!
The big secret is coming, following the PIP weather and date page.
MARCH
21, 2015,
SATURDAY
AFTERNOON AT 3:53,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 82 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY------(H-83/L-68).
HUMIDITY
IS 69%, FEELING LIKE 87 DEGREES.
ENE
WINDS ARE AT 8, GUSTING TO 9.
When
I was out on some routine errands a year and a half ago or so,
someone broke into this apartment here, and illegally broke a lot of
my electronics. This is not a new event with me. It has happened many
times before, with my rights being trampled on by the FBI's
great almighty 'FISA' (Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act).
More MJ-HACKING, FCC, Bob McDowell, gee I'm fucking cunt lapping
''shocked and surprised'', to quote our great
and late disco diva, DONNA SUMMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Frank Callio
had some great telephone numbers in his day, along with Comcast, go
ahead; do it Gloucester-Sharks McNulty. Am I wrong about this, great
Winnie Hicks of Flatliners, the child Winnie that is; and that old
rope game number thing? WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, perfect angel; huh RAW!
She was white hot Bob!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
back to being illegally fucked with by my own dam fucking government.
I don't care if they come in, but NO COURT AND NO LAW gives these
goons the mother fucking right to break my electronic stuff; and yet
this is what they do, over and over. I pretended not to trust the
electronic repairman, over at that Port Saint Lucie, Florida, USA,
repair shop; and I admit to this; Sheriff Kenneth Mascara, of this
county, kind sir. I had to do this for reasons that hopefully either
are, or will become quite obvious to you; as this blog continues
onward. HACK-HACK-HACK;
PAM BONDI, FLORIDA STATE ATTORNEY GENERAL, MA'AM, YO YO!!!!
Not
only, Sheriff KM kind sir, did someone illegally damage my video
machine, but they somehow erased a part of a videotape that I had
very recently made some wild blog posts about; and I think sheriff
sir, you know exactly what's going on here, with my mother humping
miserable rotten Long Island Cousins, from more than four decades
ago. Just why so many Huntingtonians have moved down here to your
county, sir, is anyone's guess; but I know the odds of so many
counties in this nation, thousands of them; and out of all the places
for my cousins to all come to, just what are the odds that brought
all of us down to here, YO sir????????????????? Well to move on with
the secret of the 80,000 as we'll label and term this; the tape I had
recently blogged about where my distant cousins who one even came to
befriend Darius Evans, and both worked with me up at that Harvest
place, where you were called that day in early 2011, when that unruly
violent Workforce girl, acted out her horrible frightening behavior
that day. This same David told me to “Wash my hands” for no good
reason, and Darius under oath will witness this for me. I
doubt he will commit perjury, sir. You can contact him on his great
YOUTUBE page, DEEZY SLIM.
But moving this powerful shit along, great folks, and Sheriff sir;
and AG Bondi, ma'am; his mother, my fourth cousin
removed three times if I am correct on my lineage genealogy, great
folks; made a donation to the local GOOD WILL STORE at the Virginia
Avenue Mall, here in Fort Pierce, just a mile or so away from my
Public Housing Building, along Route 1 US Highway. Everyone follows
and stalks me in the M2F, and knows my habits quite well, President
B. Obama, and Governor R. Scott, Honorable Sirs!!!!!!!!! I told how
at the BIG LOTS STORE, on New
Jersey's Route 30 (White Horse Pike), in Clementon, New Jersey; I was
stalked by a covert agency agent, and I confronted him; and he
admitted to taking a tape that I had left at a phone booth, for
someone to find; as back then; there was no blogging or internet like
today. This was around 1991 or so. Psychiatrists
can tell me I have delusions, from now until Pluto blows up;
Judge Lovely Judy, as I know what I
know. After all that has happened to me,
and keeps right on doing so, decade after decade after dam ass
decade; I would be quite deluded and psychotic,
to believe everything was all normal and rosy all around me. Come
on; thirty mother fucking ass years; YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!
So
moving along with the 80,000-Secret, the owner of the electronics
shop, Sheriff sir; told the truth about someone putting oil inside my
video machine. They also put the very tape that was taken by my
distant cousins, into the machine, turned on my television, and that
very part on the tape that I had recently blogged about, where the
man said to his wife that he was going to go to the doctor and she
told him he looks like shit, and he said he had some accident in the
gym while exercising, and he was trying to help her find out why the
zoom focus was not functioning on their camcorder device; he
also said and I told this, how this particular May of 1995 weekend,
“Was the worst fucking weekend in his life”. They erased
it off, sheriff. Why would they go to this much trouble to erase off
ten seconds on a blank videotape that I purchased from the Good Will
Store, or supposedly blank, and for that matter; why was I supposed
to find this in the first place? Folks,
during this very time; I lived at the GAP Highview Apartments in
WILL-I-AM-ST-OWN, NEW JERSEY- USA-ESMWG; and was going to Poolroy
Haddonwood, another exercise place where accidents of
numerous kinds, also may have just happened. Why was I supposed to
find this in this powerful awesome GODS-GAME of SSJKK, and why did
the M2F have to erase that part that I blogged about here at BLOGGER
DOT COM? First, no one on Planet Earth could make up something this
fantastic, and secondly, remember that Poolroy told me he was a
cousin of the greatest pop diva on this planet. He was no cousin. He
was what the world and the birth certificate claim, the bio-father of
MC. Until I get Soronson Labs to tell me that he is a step and that
what happened to me the first Saturday in July of 1969, underneath
Central Pier, did not result in MC coming here to this world, after
leaving that very area just yards away; right out of Joseph and John,
and all of this wild shit from 2000 years ago; I will believe what I
know to be the real honest truth. Anyone can prove me
wrong any time, with legitimate laboratory certified facts. PP thinks
he is so dam ass smart. Why do you really think I had to go and leave
you that night after hearing your 'SOL' song you had written? I had
to get by myself and cry like a mother fucking little child, you
buttwipe. Hell people; even fucking Pat Robertson isn't stupid enough
to think that SOL stands for shit out of luck, all though in my
fucking cunt lapping case, both of these would apply quite perfectly,
BWAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
as to exactly how Bob Jurik at the CFS, in Exton, PAUSAESMWG; was
manipulated by the 'ESS', to kick the crap out of me; along with
those two lifeguard mascots, later on in middle 1975, in Atlantic
City, while my mom was up with Jimmy Dean and Heinz Gottwald, and his
wife, who was my mom's cousin Ruth Huntington; THAT would be all part
of the 90,000-view secret. BUT WAIT because it gets way fucking ass
better still, folks! IPY this one great peeps. The 100,000 secret
will wipe out your sanity, anyone out here. Your entire fuckiGN
sanity will be gone with this one, should I live long enough to print
it up, and post it. Laugh now, DOW. But you'll take a big hit down
the road later on, when these dam huge monster secrets all come out;
because when they do; I
am filing a gigantic lawsuit against the three major television
broadcasting networks, for wiping out the relationship I should have
had all along with my marvelous daughter. Delusion?
Yeah, we'll fucking see, kind Sheriff KM, sir, we'll see! Goddess
Bless.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!
|
Audience |
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
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