HALLS
WALLS
CHAPTER
60
Last night
lovely Diana came over to visit with me twice. Once just past dusk
and then a little later on again. She made awesome beautiful colors
and many kinds of patterns in the skies, and several types of her
lovely beautiful lightning also. THANK YOU BABY BLOND. I MISSED YOU,
AND REALLY NEEDED YOU, GIRL!
APRIL
17, 2015,
FRIDAY
MORNING AT 9:29,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 78 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 82%, FEELING 82 DEGREES.
RANGE
TODAY----------(H-78/L-66).
LIGHT
WIND IS WSW AT 4, AND GUSTING TO 7.
My
jerk off fucking loud thump-music annoyer outside, wakes me up on
many days, between just shy of seven, and close up to about half past
eight of the clock in the morning; with illegal
sound pressure level excess, as written
in all noise statutes and articles of local law ordinances. Then
after this crap that happened around eight or so, began a million
fucking in and out and in and out mother fucking doors all over the
place. Since there are only about half a dozen other apartments
besides mine on this wing here on floor number six, and allowing for
two people in the apartments on a continual basis, as half of them
are studio size and contain no bedroom, then even with that, there
should only be a dozen doors with people exiting, so why the three
dozen dam slams, Debra Marotto and Pam Bondi? Makes me know that
these are not guests, but ILLEGAL-STAY-OVERS. The leases all say,
guests may stay a while, not weeks on mother fucking end; and making
all the fucking noise in the world that they wish to, either.
JEEEEEEEEEEEE-LOUISE Fonty and Twinbay. Where'dya all go Jenn, Tiff,
and TB?
ALL
HELL CUBED BROKE LOOSE ON ME, FROM THE WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES; AND ON TOP
OF THE ALREADY EXISTING HELLISH NIGHTMARE, THAT BEGAN ON A DIME DROP,
BACK ON 28 AUGUST OF the year of 2013. I
have some proof now, that right after I sent the “You'll Be
Crossing Over'' song, to the United States Copyright Office on 3 July
of 2013; people in power began planning to wipe me out by way of
removing me from the only medication that has allowed me some normal
functionality ever since June 4, 1983,
when this condition struck me, as a result of my Magnesonic Machine,
curing my wiped out destroyed immune system, from what happened to me
in 1977 at the Mars Graphics Services print shop, of Westville, New
Jersey, USA. This proof that I have, will be released to the World
Court Tribunal System at the HAGUE, after my eventual death and
completed autopsy, proving first degree, cold blooded pre-meditated
murder. MY MURDER, by wicked total scoundrels straight from the
bowels
and depths of HELL!
These mother fucking doors go on day and night, day after day after
day, it is mother fuckiGN cunt relentless now, Pam and Debra, and
really mother fucking annoying as all dam get out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
No
matter what, ladies and gentlemen, I refuse to throw out my arms and
cry like a fucking little school kid. These bastard ass pricks just
are not worth it, kind folks out here.
Moving
from the great Joan Larosa and Backer-Trash apartment of stolen
chains and broken lives, on Oakland Avenue, in Oaklyn, New Jersey,
back on the first day of March, in 1975, to 1118 Linden Hill
Apartments of lindenwold, New Jersey, was one very incredible story,
to put it as mildly as possible. Going
into the whole thing, would upset the entire Atlantic City Apple Cart
System,
or for short, the ACACS. LSS peeps; it does something that is spoken
of on one of the greatest Christmas movies ever produced in
Hollywood, called, “Miracle
on 34th
Street”.
This being none other than what Attorney Gaily was attempting to do,
in that Competency Hearing. He did this with the help of a great
federal agency, known as the POST
OFFICE.
I did it, by simply moving from one place into another. MERRY MERRY
MERRY, and HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY; but punishments or no; and I have lived
through many of these and most totally undeserved; I have learned to
copy the great detective Lenny Briscoe of the L&O television
show, and 'call on my higher power'. But despite on the surface, all
of this seeming to be covering up something beyond huge; folks you
don't have a tiny clue how huge, in two major ways, and yet, HONESTLY
PEEPS, it is a third thing here, that is still even freggin' bigger.
This is a story about another Twinbay, or maybe just another
look-alike Asian female and a dude she hangs with, or did. To look at
this girl; you would absolutely swear, that this was Bjork, the
recording artist; and who knows; other than ii might be her mother;
but I seriously doubt that she could have been old enough to be the
age I saw her, in-between these two addresses lived at by me in 1975;
namely, my old one in Oaklyn, and my new one, that was several miles
east of there, in Lindenwold. But there is always that other element
that can explain how someone and their age is not significant, and we
all know what is being said here, TRAVELERS, or T3E of the ESS!
In
recurring nightmares, back between 1975 and 2000; not that often yet
they still they happened maybe five times annually; I would be in
local Jersey areas, and with these two Asian young people; her, and
this dude about her age. One day, not in a dream, so
to quote the mighty DAWN KING here folks,
“Don't
get it fucked up”,
I
was riding my bicycle from my new apartment, and was up on the White
Horse Pike, near the Lindenwold High Speed-line Patco Train Station,
at a restaurant on the corner of Laurel Road, where today a Pep Boys
place stands; and there these two people were. The more I think of
it, I am wrong, sorry. The dude was older, and less Asian looking by
a bit. He could have been around 40 while she was closer to barely
half of that. He came right up to me and said, “You're a long way
from home, aren't you”. I did not know these two folks from Jack
Squooks or Adams Light dam Beer. I just forced a smile and politely
said, “Yes” or something very similar and quick, and hurried on
my way to get away from these weird two peeps. But they literally
haunted my dreams, up until I happened to be watching the Grind Beach
on the VH1, or one of the music channels, while residing at the
Highview Apartments, in the middle late summer time of 1994, on one
early morning, while flipping through channels, and there she was,
this Bjork character, looking precisely like the girl who was with
the dude who was asking me why I was so far away from home. First, I
was 20 years old, and 20 year old people go off to war 5,000 miles
away, so I don't think being five miles from Oaklyn and three miles
from my new Lindenwold residence was anything unusual. But
the way he said this to me, you would think he last saw me on the
future fuckiGN Mars mission.
As
I pen these words, a huge right side Morty Mortino Death Angel struck
me, and now, after that by a minute; there is a fire alarm going off
at about twenty past ten on this Friday morning, here at Public
Housing at 601 Avenue B, in Fort Pierce, Florida, USA, ESMWG!
Yes,
merry Christmas, and happy New Year. This one, next one, whatever RAW
the case may be, morning, afternoon, or evening, and copyrighted.
GEE-WEE.
If
you were going through all of this nutty shit, folks; you would not
only be half out of your gourd, three fourths banana's, and nine
tenths overdone mind toast; but
you would be 100% clueless to what to do about it;
especially in lieu of the problem that is totally forever
inescapable, HALL'S
WALL'S!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You
missed me Jane Sleazebag Fonda, HA-HA! I find my fucking self now, on
PAGE 12 of 12.
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I'll
still put some nice five's up here, Jane Diseaseweeds,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You
know a lot of people act like the devil, some look like the devil,
but I totally believe in this video-game-simulation. One person here
at all times, is the devil. One is also the Almighty. Why wouldn't
the two great forces that made this game, all do a Lawn-Mower-Man and
jack into their own game??????????
DOORS-DOORS-DOORS,
THIS IS A MOTHER FUCKING ROYAL PAIN IN MY TWAT HUFFING BALLS, YO YO
YO!!!!!!
Let
me fucking tell you all this. One powerful thing explains the entire
business. You know, what I am going through, as well as all the shit
in your lives, and anyone's life, it doesn't matter who it is. You
all know this is the mother fucking ESS. Thousands of years ago, the
great Asian Empire of CHINA knew of them, and this. They used a
system of divination to make a direct contact with them, using
sixty-four hexagrams. This was called and still is called, the
“I-CHING”. But when you go to any ordinary library, and you get
information from any source, computers, books, and RAW (Robert
Andrews Whatever); all you get is the 64-hexagrams and nothing about
how one throws these wands, and when a hexagram is made as a result,
you sit down facing that hexagram, and move into a deep trance. I can
offer you an advanced way to make it work for anyone brave enough to
want to try this, as believe me, this shit works. What I do is after
the hexagram is made by the I-Ching Wands, is draw it with
professional rulers and protractor tools you can buy at any place you
buy school supplies. I cut a piece of cardboard into a circle and
paint with water paints, a hypnotic wheel, most of you have seen them
on television. It is illegal to make them spin on TV for more than a
few seconds as it will indeed mesmerize anyone who stares into one
that is spinning. I shine a bright light directly onto this and at
the bottom, use a small clip and after cutting a whole out in the
center, I attach it to a clean microwave glass rotisserie. The little
screw allows the entire thing if done right and placed on a slippery
surface, to spin for ten seconds, and then I spin it again and again
for maybe twenty times or so until I am deep into trance. But on this
glass is the cardboard with the painted black and white circle wheel
that appears to move in on itself as it is spinning. Only the very
center area, all around the small cut out part, is a perfect drawing
of the exact hexagram thrown. I wait for night time and when I am
tired, and can make it dark in the room other than for a small
bend-lamp that I can shine the light directly on the wheel and yet
the rest of the room remains just about totally dark. I am sitting up
in a bed, and the minute I cannot stay awake any longer or fall
asleep for a third or fourth time in a sitting position, I do one
more series of spins and stare into it, and then fall dead into
sleep. When
I did this on Pearl Harbor Day, December 7, 1996, at that Somerdale
death house at 112 Harvard Avenue, in Somerdale, New Jersey, ladies
and gentlemen; this is when I threw the wands and made the HEXIGRAM
OF DELIVERENCE.
You'll find these hexagrams discussed at any good library or on your
Google and internet system, just type in “I CHING”, that simple.
But I doubt you will find me anywhere, and what I did, and I really
doubt you will find out how to trance out and use it to connect up
into the ESS directly, but the dam Chinese Empire of Asia thousands
of years ago, they all knew these mighty dam secrets, great folks out
here, YO!!!!!!!!!!!! IPYT.
None
of this is fake, and it it most definitely is far from being funny.
Even my baby-mama who knows a lot about such things, doesn't do a lot
of laughing, because, SHE KNOWS, and what she may not know, is that I
KNOW a lot of things too. Forget Highview and laughs about being
20,000 miles out at sea. The planet is just way too small not to get
a dam laugh out of that one, if Dave doesn't over fill my dam chimney
that is, Sarah Karge! Well Kirshty Alley, at least it wasn't a grand
view, just a dam high one!
So
you just go right on laughing at me. I know a
magic person from Long Beach
Island, who knows the biggest secret of all,
Patty Hollister; and
told me. You know, that SHE'LL get me for
this. Well, she got
me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BE
CAREFUL OF THE GREAT PAULA PATTY KING JEREMIAH. SHE WON'T LET ME
THROW THE CARS AND THE BARS AWAY, BUT SHE DID MAKE WONDERFUL SWEET
LOVE TO ME TWICE. SOMEBODY SAID SOMETHING TO ME A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO
THAT WAS SO HORRIBLE THAT I ALMOST MOTHEING FUCKING DIED. IF IT IS
TRUE, I WILL BE ENDING UP IN PRISON. NOW
CAN YOU TAKE NOTES UP THERE, AT WAYV,
AS ANY POLICE OR CJS OFFICER KNOWS ONLY TOO WELL, WE ALL ARE CAPABLE
OF FLIPPING OUT. PREACH THAT ONE TO THE CHOIR, RIP AND
REG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
Dawn, I wish you had called Steve Caruso, FBI Agent on me when I ran
away down here to Florida. If he had met me here or even if I had to
find a way out to his place in Austin Texas, back in 2010, I might
have been able to salvage my life better than what went down off of
this HSE parallel reality to that relative potential other one, you
know, one of JJ's great shoulda-coulda-woulda deals, only this one
might have just worked out, as who can ever really know
these 'karukian' mysterious,
Mizz Whoopee Goldberg of the great Next-Gen Star Trek SYFY show? I
know that my mom came to me in a dream to use old cave days
nomenclature here, and warned me in a local Hammonton Dollar Store,
not to move in with the great and powerful KING FAMILY. Go scratch
your ringworm.
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
Audience
©
2006-2015
There
are so many things to discuss. First off, I knew when my cousins
began doing some things that were somewhat removed from the typical
average stuff that is done every day, that many little cosmic numbers
were trying to do their thing, you know, connecting dots. But just
why would these two asshole care if I was far away from home anyway,
and why is a few miles, far, for a fully grown 20 year old? OK you
can argue I was 20 but looked 13, and you would be right. I had girls
trying to go out with me between ten and sixteen, until I was well
into my dam middle forties. Still, all that taken into full
consideration; why did they care, and more of a dam why, would be;
just who the hell were they? In many of my recurring nightmares with
them, I would be in the year 2298, and in a place called Westmont,
New Jersey. Only trouble with this was there was no New Jersey. On
one particular occasion, this Bjork look-alike took a large box of
kitchen matches, and set a large laboratory on fire, a section of a
place called, the World Laboratory, and where I used to reside in
late 1964 up through the middle of 1969, when my pal Brad Messenger
got me into trouble, and we were both kicked out, first him, and then
a month or so later on, by Misses Kinsel the witch, who yes folks,
was another look-alike, sounding and looking just like 'Coffee-Cora
of OZ', 4-crissake. She was the property manager of the great and
powerful Haddon Hills Apartments, of Westmont, New Jersey, that in
the middle twenty-two hundreds in a parallel universe, I witnessed
and observed, as the WORLD-LABS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
girl burned down a contained section, and then told me some things,
and for the life of me, I cannot pull up what she said other than for
a few small meaningless dribbles. This interaction was not the result
of my messing around with the I-CHING. I merely went to sleep
normally, no trances, nothing weird, and BOOM,
BUTTTTT,
the great dreaming interactions of Tim Devendorf, as well as many
other things that would not be classified as regular-normal types of
dreaming activity, still don't have to occur only through a person
attempting to DREAM, which those in the know call, DREAMING verses
dreams or having them. They, in other words, mean that they use the
verb or action word DREAMING, to connote that an intentional act of
will is behind the result if any, or the dream that comes when sleep
overtakes the person. But
this girl lighting up the place is major!!!
It
involves forces in Washington, secrets way too big for me to ever
want to tackle, and of course, the house along the GAP Interstate-95.
One of the people in this place worked just half a dozen miles or so
away, where I took my RUSS-1500 open reel for repair back in late
summer of 1980. Things get interesting, only when you fully
understand the Mike Gutherman Syndrome, why Atlantic City upline
gamers are so connected into this lawn mower of Mark Wayne Mohr, and
plenty more, only if I get too specific, it will only lead to a lot
of horrendous trouble, especially for good old fucking little old me.
It was not until after a person right here in my building recently
told me a horrible thing, too awful to repeat, that I unblocked a dam
memory of what this man told me in 1980 after balling me out for not
taking better care of ''his baby'', the machine. He was instrumental
or so he tells the tale, in the creation of this very superb and
terrific tape recorder mastering machine. But, or maybe I need to
say, BUTTTTT,
BUTTTTT,
BUTTTTT,
BUTTTTT,
BUTTTTT,
BUTTTTT,
BUTTTTT,
BUTTTTT,
BUTTTTT,
BUTTTTT,
and BIG-ASS-BUTTTTT;
there
are most definitely a lot of powerful dream-train stories, and
real-train stories, or things that happen on trains, both awake in
our body-universe, or asleep in hyperspace with our virtually
unlimited doppelganger energy body universes. If Mister Daniel Curtis
of Dark Shadows really thinks that he is the only one, WOW dude,
think some more. Best TV show ever YO, but think some more. You just
happened to make it big, but there are plenty of people with many
weird 'dreams', 'lives' and 'circumstances'. IPYT my
pal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Holy Callio Moley Molly Mommy, and
JEEEEEZ-LOUISE.
Hay
I am one of the biggest Dark Shadows fans in the universe;
but gimme' a dam break, Mizz Margie Leo. The
stories I could tell about train trips,
both awake here in my body, and not awake in multiple parallel
universes in the hyperspace, crissake, pweeeeeeeeeeeeze don't get me
started here, Mizz Eckert Pharmaceutical, YO!!!!! THANK YOU SO VERY
VERY DAM MUCH; PATTY
HURRICANETALES ROBERTSON!!!!!!!!!!!!
Someone is not liking me going on with this here, as my computer is
trying to fucking freeze up on me, YO.
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
Audience
©
2006-2015
MARK
WAYNE MOHR
Bob
McDowell
would
say it so wonderfully and accurately, “Vely vely intelesting”.
This is because he wasn't there in the future, 25 years later in
1997, when this was all going down at that death house in Somerdale,
New Jersey, USA. That was not intelesting, that was a mother fucking
frightening civil rights violating monstrous nightmare straight out
of the gates from HELL
ITSELF,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!
These
fucking cunt dirt bags that have taken over Jame's so called
''storage-apartment'', are a real royal mother fucking pain in my
ass. IN AND OUT, IN AND OUT, IN AND OUT, IN AND OUT, IN AND OUT, IN
AND OUT, IN AND OUT, IN AND OUT; it doesn't fucking stop. Why don't
they just mother fucking cut and paste and do it
once??????????????????????
What
problems can an
angry mother cause someone down the road, if
he says or does things that upset her??????????????????? Gee,
shall we go here right now, Sally Starr??????? Well,
why not? First off, it explains that my mom knew all along about what
happened to me as a young lad at the fucking shore. It also explains
why she was determined to get me “AT&T
OUT OF AREA” the
following year just as soon as she could possibly fucking arrange it.
This is why I was sent to the private school, called Church Farm, in
the autumn of 1971, but five or six weeks later, the kibosh was put
on that. I would love to know what the Board of Education, Mister
Thompson, Mister Principle Shapiro of HTH School, and Guidance
Counselor Mister HTHS Jockamini all knew about this whole dirty
fucking rotten mess, oh GAP tri-broadcasters of the United States of
America.
WOW
JOANNA!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
So
why did both Bruce and I end up seemingly watched by the powers
behind the
'EW'
all along ever since
we both left the (GAP) Cooley-Hall??? So
why did both Bruce and I end up seemingly watched by the powers
behind the
'EW'
all along ever since
we both left the (GAP) Cooley-Hall??? So
why did both Bruce and I end up seemingly watched by the powers
behind the
'EW'
all along ever since
we both left the (GAP) Cooley-Hall??? So
why did both Bruce and I end up seemingly watched by the powers
behind the
'EW'
all along ever since
we both left the (GAP) Cooley-Hall??? So
why did both Bruce and I end up seemingly watched by the powers
behind the
'EW'
all along ever since
we both left the (GAP) Cooley-Hall??? ''Wheeeelll'',
Samantha
Bewitched Stevens,
YO, let's frikkin explore around here and see what I can come up
with. You
know, remove a few lakehouse doors off of their hinges, Dawny and
Scylla!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!!
WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!!
WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!!
Ever
since I had that powerful EXPERIENCE in December of 1969 with IMHO,
the ALMIGHTY GODD-ESS OF THIS ENTIRE MULTIVERSE; I was being observed
by HALL'S FAWCES, and stopped from sharing my story with anyone, by
HALL'S WALLS!!!! As soon as I left the Cooley-Hall, the great news
teams literally seemed to invade the place. All my classmates were on
the news, talking about the place. It was wild, and I'll never forget
it, it obviously stayed with me an entire lifetime, or maybe 200 of
them. During this time while there, I was force-placed, or it seemed
this way to me, in late
May of 1969, to be at a spot in Atlantic City,
at an exact time; and altered from when it would have been otherwise,
if
not interfered with by the GAP-ESS.
I had my voice used on an anti-pollution television commercial that
aired nationally coast to coast for a couple of years, ending when I
no longer was AT COOLEY HALL. Huge billboards for this place went up
after I began this blogging project in early 2006, near my residence,
in Mullica, NJ-USA, right on Route 30, AKA the White Horse Pike by
locals. But the entire place closed down forever a short while
afterward, after my blogs began discussing forbidden secrets
pertaining to the place, in some graphic and vivid details. I COULD
TYPE ON AND ON AND ON, and most of you know this quite fucking cunt
well, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 57
APRIL
15, 2015,(14
YEAR ANVY OF HUGE “DREAM”)
EARLY
WEDNESDAY EVENING AT 6:45,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 82 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H-87/L-64).
HUMIDITY
IS 69%. IT FEELS LIKE 87 DEGREES.
WIND
IS ESE AT 19 WITH GUSTS TO 25.
HA-HA-HA,
WHAT ''DREAM'' YOU ASK? Well, on the afternoon of Easter Sunday in
2001, April fifteenth; at the Technion Furniture Building on Atrium
Way in Mount Laurel, New Jersey; I crashed for twenty minutes or so,
while on a security job, stationed in the room where a huge computer
mainframe was being constructed, or (MACHINE-MIND). Ever since this
happened, I have come to believe in machine-mind, gaming universe
simulation theory, and much much much fucking more, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
This was the interaction (dream) where I fell in love with LIGHTNING
all over again, as if we never had met. She remembered, but I did
not. It was a total game, and I was in it, and not by choice. This
entire universe and all that is in it, is a big game and GOD is a big
upline gamer. I said this 40 years ago back in 1975 however, not just
recently and right now. THAT is the equation here, Sir Rockdroid
Roddenberry Blucran, YO, so WOW THAT, MACY FUCKING BUNCH,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SLAM-SLAM-SLAM, MIZZ
A.G. PAM BONDI,
JEEEEEEZ
FUCKING LOUISE,
'SURFER
FONTY'.
OH BOY, study
the blogs from early years and tell me there is no HSE!
Like beyond fucking super ass wow, BRAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!!!!!!!!!!
HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 56
SOMEBODY
THOUGHT IT WAS REAL DAM FUNNY TO MAKE MY PREVIOUS BLOG COME OUT IN
ALL MOTHER FUCKING PINK FONT FOR THE ENTIRE TIME IT WAS TYPED INTO
THE ENLARGED ES SCHOOL WEBSITE, DONE SO I CAN HAVE A NICER APPEARING
WORK POST UP, ONLY THE TAWF FUCKED IT ALL UP FOR ME, WEEEEEE HEEEEE
HEEEEEEE AND AHA AHA AHA, MCNULTY, YO!!!!!!! THIS IS A SUPER MOTHER
FUCKIGN BOTBAR, AND IS WHY THE DOW JONES IS SHOOTING WAY UP DAY AFTER
DAY AFTER DAY. FUCK UP MY CUNT LAPPING LIFE, AND UP SHE MOTHER
FUCKING GOES, LIKE WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-AND
JEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hay
don't kick the fucking shit out of me JZ, I cannot help it if Tiff
and Jenn's friend is a twin look alike to your wife, YO! Here comes
the hacking. It seems that updates are continually be run and I have
no choice in the matter, as Mike Sucks owns the planet as we all
know, and this is many times what is happening behind the electronic
curtains of Sir-Oz, I've come to realize. It is hacking by
cleverness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That is to say, I am too ignorant,
technologically, to know all the fucking ins and outs involved, so it
will appear to my untrained eye as always some black hat hack, only
in truth, it is not AKLWAYS that. It can be, and it is on many
fucking occasions, YO.
I
went out and picked up my meds that the psychiatrist wrote for me at
Walgreen's, bought some dinners and ice cream at the great and
wonderful Publix; and saw a new Primary-Care-Physician. Yes,
good old HIGH DISC USAGE, HOST PROCESS FOR WINDOWS SERVICES;
thank you for the pop window, but I don't know
what to do, YO; so fucking WEEEEEEEE.
Here is what is god dam mother fucking
''haaaaapening'', Mister Derrijo Exxon of 1980, YO, old
buddy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He scheduled me
to see a specialist for my goiter hypothyroidism problems. But
he is not going to write even a lousy fucking one Mg of ativan for me
to take daily, so all I can do is keep crying literally on the
fucking Vero Beach psychiatrist's shoulder for refills as needed,
and hope they will do surgery to repair my gland, that was fucking
damaged by the Privecode Inter-Digital machine,
that I hooked all together with other magnetic machines that all had
very high EM fields, and caused this problem to happen to me;
despite the really cool byproduct of curing a bad condition, that
was not even known about when I contracted it at the Mars Printing
Shop, of Westville; in New Jersey, in the USA, Earth, Sol, Milky Way
Galaxy, AKA (NJUSAESMWG)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Laugh at me
McNulty and it's curtains for you and Threatened
PK-OZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
None
of this mother fucking shit is at all funny, you god dam mother
fuckers. TEE HEE HEE my cunt licking stinking asshole,
BRAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Things were
mother fuckiGN cunt eating nice around here for several weeks until a
week ago when mother fuckiGN noisy shit started up. It begins with
the asshole across from me or peeps in his family slamming in to the
apartment right across from my apartment fucking door around two in
the clit huffing fucking morning, and once this shit starts, to quote
Mister L&O Anderton, “IT STARTS”! THIS FUCKING SLAMMING IS
BEING INTENTIONALLY DONE TO ME, SAINT LUCIE COUNTY SHERIFF MASCARA,
AND ATTORNEY GENERAL PAM BONDI, AND FREAKING THAT IPY, YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MAKE
MY WORDS COME OUT AS PINK AS YOU WANT, ALMIGHTY SCYLLA GODDESS. NO
MATTER WHAT YOU DO TO ME, IWALU, MY TEEN QUEEN FROM SDK.
Trust
me, Mellman and Jukall and JJ; everybody is DONE, and they just don't
know it yet! When I go on the full war-path, all the Native Americans
in all the canoes from the year zero-minus right up to right now,
Lovely Corecedin-LOO, will stand up and take
notes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IPYT.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
Computer;
all enemies scanned and crushed, or you will be totally obliterated.
DO IT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP.
It's
a matter of time before this entire world blows and burns up. Maggie
won't let me mother fucking suffer under this cunt chewing fucking
HUNTINGTON
CURSE for all cunt sniffing
eternity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Why
is this all happening to me for sixty mother fucking cock licking
years, YYYYYYYYY JIMMY YYY? Fuck 1984, fuck the music project, fuck
Stef, fuck all ofem!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All the dam dots
connect, but if I was safer, I would just love to tell you all what
happened in that house on the highway and how it took me more than
three and a half solid fucking decades to remember why I had so many
recurring nightmares of nudity in
there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
will only tell you this much. I know why people are doing and acting
all of this Shakespearean hell-play out and why it is all unfolding.
Some of it has to do with my attending a place called the
COOLEY-HALL. There is not only powerful symbolism throughout it all,
but it goes way beyond this, and the Washingtonians all know a lot of
this super covered up shit, well, the very top powers on the hill,
anyway.
People,
if you really honestly are naïve enough to think that I just happen
to know dozens of fucking people who all grew up to be big ass time
name recognized, then you are a bloody dummy. Most of you just think
this is all a wild made up tale, all of Morianity and these blogs,
but for the few that know it is not a work of fucking fiction; come
on, play the odds out. It would be equal to someone winning the MEGA
LOTTERY MULTIMILLION DOLLAR PAYIOUT, every week for the rest of their
life. You know this couldn't happen if the universe could last
a vigintillion fucking eons!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Pure fucking
ass common sense, YO.
You're
noit going to nail me again, you rotten fucking bitch witch JANE.
Mizz dirt ball Sleazeweedsdisease, YO!!!!!!!!!!! I'll still put up
some lovely fucking ass fives, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
People
want my blood so dam ass bad, huh Roseann. What, that night outside
Brad's fucking house in May of '69 wasn't enough lovely girl. You
nearly took my throat out, YO girl. YYYYYYYY me, Mister Dangerous
Magnetic Fields? Why all the never ending symbolism, Shirley McClain?
Holy
mother fucking smokes, Dave Roth and daughter, don't overload my dam
chimney or put so much blood on my shoes, YO. WOW Joanna girl!
I
am really getting fucking sick and tired of all this shit for over 60
pussy licking years, ladies and gentlemen!!!!
Gimme'
a brake here, Mizz Margie Leo, in or out of god dam 1985 and the
great Caldor Department Store of Woodbury Heights, New Jersey, USA,
JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE!!!!
This
is going to be the hottest week around here in a while, lads and
lassies. And yet, I would take 130 degrees if I
could stop the mother fucking Exploratronic Supermind Society from
fucking my life all to hell, 24-7-365.2422, YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
COMPILATION BLOG IS TERMINATING AT THIS POINT, LADS & LASSIES.
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