GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS
CHAPTER
52
SHERIFF
MASCARA, THESE MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' LOCAL ENEMIES ARE GOING TO MOTHER
FUCKING KILL ME IF YOU DON'T HELP ME GET THIS FUCKING SHIT STOPPED,
IT IS TOO COINCIDENTAL TO BE A COINCIDENCE. THE BANGING IN THE
APARTMENT BEGAN TEN MINUTES BEFORE WALL STREET'S OPENING FUCKING BELL
FROM HELL, AN DTHEN RIGHT ON THE CUNT CHEWING 'FUCKING' DOT OF 9:30
AT OPENING BELL FROM HELL, ANOTHER FIRE ALARM, WHICH YOU ARE ABLOE TO
VERIFY OF COURSE, 100%, MY KIND SIR SHERIFF, YO!!!! IT IS NOT BAD
ENOUGH THAT THE FUCKING AMA IS PUTTING ME THROUGH A SECOND MAJOR
DEATH-WITHDRAW OFF OF MY ONE MILLIGRAM LORAZEPAM DAILY DOSAGE, DOWN
TO ONE HALF, A 50% ADDITIONAL CUT AFTER BEING CUT OFF COLD TURKEY
AFTER TAKING 4 MILLIGRAMS DAILY FOR 31 SOLID YEARS AND A HALF, BACK
LATE IN 2014. THE ALARM WAS JUST DEACTIVATRED SIR, BY TRUSTWORTHY
LADDER-15, AT 9:39, BUT IF YOU DON'T HELP ME OUT HERE, THEY WILL KILL
ME, AND MY BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS, OH MIGHTY POWERFULL SAINT LUCIE
COUNTY, FLORIDA, USA, SHERIFF SIR!!!!
MAGNESONIC,
HEAR MY MIND-VOICE-PRINT NOW WHEN I GO, ''MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM''.
SCAN
ALL MY ENEMIES WIPING ME OUT AND DESTROYING INNOCENT BLOOD, WITHOUT A
CAUSE. I NOW CREATE AN I-O, AND CRUSH AND SINGE AND OBLITERATE THIS
I-O, AN DPLACE IT ONTO YOUR T-B FOR EMPOWERIZATION. I HAVE SET YOUR
PPG CONTROL TO THE MAXIMUM LEVEL OF 11.8 IPNS, AND HAVE SET THE
CONTROLS RIDING AGAINST YOUR PPG, TO ITS MAXIMUM OF 11.5 IPNS. USE
G-189 OPEN COMMAND, UNDER G-901, G-719, G-13, G-917, G-14, UNDER
CG5555, CG2, UNDER G-1133, CG-18, AND HOLD. ON AN 'I' TO 'D',
A/A-TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, EMPOWER THIS CRUSHED
AND SINGED I-O TO FULL, USING BOTH ATOMIC DUPLICATIONAL, AND ZERO
DIMENSIONAL TECHNOLOGIES. YOUR TONE TRANSFERS TAKE THE OLD STYLE AT&T
TELEPHONE TONES AND CONVERT THEM INTO THE TEXT HIGHLIGHTED COLOR
TONES, RED BEING HIGH TONE-1, AND BLUE BEING LOW TONE-2. THESE TONES
IN MY M-V-P ARE IN THE LONG-EEEEE-VOWEL SOUND;
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
GO
TO G-901, UNDER G-1133, G-13, CG-18, AND STOP!
If
I don't run fucking away, out of this evil empire America, Sheriff
and AG Bondi, I AM AM MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' TOAST, AND THE BOTH OF YOU
KNOW IT. YOU ARE BOTH COMPLICIT IN MY SPILLED BLOOD, AND WHEN I AM
DEAD SHOULD I NOT MAKE MY ESCAPE FROM THIS LAND OF TERROR AND HORROR,
YOU BOTH NEED TO BE LOOKED AT BY SOME ETHICS
COMMITTEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
JANUARY
12, 2016,
TUESDAY
MORNING AT 9:54,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 54 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H-54/L-48).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 87%, WIND CHILL IS 53.
WIND
IS WNW AT 4, GUSTIMG SLIGHTLY TO 6.
TOTAL
RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---0.
When
temperatures are either above the norm or below the norm, THIS
IS WHEN MY SIEGES ARE ALWAYS AT THEIR HEIGHTS AND ZENITH. I
HAVE OBSERVED THIS ALMOST FROM THE VERY START OF MY
HELL-FUCKING-NIGHTMARWE OF AUGUST-1986 AND THIS IS A CONSTANT JUST
LIKE TH EMOTHER FUCKING VELOCITY OF LIGHT. As you can see, the past
couple of days, a very major January cold snap, has taken temps below
normal, and during my last huge death siege attack, they were way
above normal. Things only lessened when the weather was more right in
the middle area of average and normal. Why exactly this is so, I do
not claim to be fully knowledgeable to, only a smattering of raw
ideas from raw data collected by me over this nightmare triple-decade
HELL!!!!!!!!!! Still, I do know it is real!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
Clueless Shoeless Roy and Joe; the question stands endlessly, in all
great baseball parks, everywhere; I would suppose, at least since the
year of 1988. Is this heaven or hell, or maybe Iowa or Florida?
I
am having a direct contact and have been all my life, with what the
now defunct ''Project Bluebook'' folks, here in great America call,
the alien and saucer situation. Only with me, I do not get that silly
part of their game, and they are more straight up with me and always
have been, probably because of my exact standing in a cosmic family
on numerous fronts, IE, who I truly am, and am a part of, and this is
more than one ''who's'' by the way. Now so this blog is not real long
as it is not my intention to do a long blog, I will just take the
meat and strip out a lot of fat and gristle. When an active dreaming
exploratron who is controlling his or her dream, or a (T3E) is inside
an object, a person, or some other form of life, there are things one
can do to more properly deal with the situation, and if anyone out
here ever feel they just might be in the presence of one of them abnd
wish to try this out to get a reaction, be my ''guest''. A lot of
this truly began in the 1970 summer time in a town just to the south
of world famous Atlantic City, New Jersey, called Ventnor. In a wild
dreaming interaction, I began to be with a family against my will, of
folks who were anything but pleasant to be around. Put another way,
if I already knew the exact numbers to a Powerball Lottery Jackpot
worth half a billion bucks, you could offer me your wife and daughter
as a twosome or any other thing imaginable for a ticket that is
anything other than that exact series of numbers. Being with them was
like having all these other tickets thrown in my face and nothing at
all that I could do about yet, while knowing the one I did want and
knowing all I had to do is walk a block to the store and get the
right one, Misses Marola Voicemail Exploratronic 2009.
So
moving this along, if you meet that person someday that you just
might wish to try this on, be my GUEST. You will get that feeling of,
''Gee could there be a chance this is one of those T3E things that
Mountainpen talks about on his blogs''? When you do, never make eye
contact. Stalk them for a half a minute to a minute in a way they
cannot prove, the way they love to do with their victims. While you
do this, begin a line of thinking exactly like this. Begin with some
simple multiplication tables or adding 5 and 5 and then 10 and 10,
whatever is easiest for you. Whatever you do, block all thoughts that
you are intentionally doing anything, especially that you are in any
way aware of them. Just put it out of your mind and begin sort of
following where they are slowly walking, and begin this simple
mental silent arithmetic process. But after you do this a few times,
begin picturing a bunch of dogs all rolling around in a giant puddle
of loose messy mud, getting totally filthy. Then picture some birds
landing on them while they stand there, and these birds are changing
colors. Then shift this to a scene in your mind to you are suddenly
rolling down a big mountain, hitting trees and rocks and falling off
one cliff after another, and laughing and laughing while your blood
is pouring out of you and your broken bones are protruding out of
your normal skeletal form. Do all this in just 15 quick seconds and
then shift back to 2 times 2 is 4, 3 times 3 is 9 4 times 4 is 16,
and keep going back and forth. Then at the every end, make eye
contact while doing this same thing, only be in the cycle of the
ridiculous dogs rolling in the mud and the birds coming down and
changing colors, and you then rolling down off of a tall mountain,
laughing away, when in fact you should be petrified and screaming.
This will damage a TYPE-3Exploratron to the point that they will wake
up with a bang back in their parallel universe, leaving the person
you are standing next to literally in a shock as though they just
realize right this second that they themselves have awakened in this
place with you and they are in their skimpiest underwear. Do this
once, and you will e-mail me and sat to me, you wish to climb on
board my new religion, BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE for all of us which it
most likely is already, anyway, unfortunately. Now if a machine acts
up and you want to see if a T3E is inside of it dreaming from a
parallel universe, and doing this to you; speak to the machine, or if
it is an animal, speak to it. Calmly as if you are talking toy our
son or daughter about their day in school, and every bit as much as
ordinarily and calmly, begin saying stuff like, what is it like in
your universe, and how much longer do you think you will be dreaming
inside of my animal (cat) (dog) (bird) (hamster) whatever, or my (TV)
(RADIO) (KITCHEN APPLIANCE), whatever it may be. Speak to the T3E
inside, and be so matter of fact about it and calm, that since this
is so alien to a T3E for anyone to do this, again, it will have that
effect of waking them up with a bang. If they do not get out of your
(person or thing) around you, and you have followed these
instructions without fail and taking this all seriously, then you can
know it is not one of them doing this directly to you. But if
suddenly the machine repairs itself, or the person acts as though
they just came out of a million year trance on the back of a
dinosaur, then you know Morianity is real and true for one big thing,
and you also know that you can have power over these nasty teasing
Irish-Imps and whatever other civilizations have called these things
for a very long time; as you already know what Morianity calls them.
Guess
the name of the guests.
What is this really all about? Well, I was losing my sanity 100 times
worse than anything in Florida, and it was the end of the year 1996
and I was residing in a home in Somerdale, New Jersey, that I
purchased for 120 thousand dollars in late August when it was settled
on. Things around me began to happen like nothing even my life was
able to identify with so far, even after shit that already would
never be believed. As always, it all tied right into Atlantic City. I
tried to tell my old buddy who pretended he did not know or remember
me, Congressman Andrews, about this, and he refused to discuss it.
Things
like this are career enders for anyone in any kind of public life.
So
why did Mariah Carey pull off that stunt in 1997, and again in 2008;
I am led to endlessly wonder?
Oh sure, you can say you mean a doppelganger in a parallel universe
MC, BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT; some things that happen with causation of
major hyperspace towel seepage, can just not be ignored, not when you
know what I know about the real cosmic triangle of
dreams-hyperspace-exploratrons. Yes, it was a town meeting in
Williamstown, New Jersey with Bob Andrews, and then a few months
later, at his Lindenwold office just down the street from the future
home I would come to reside in before knowing it, right on the
Somerdale border between the towns; where I told his two assistants
working there until Clarence Harris took their place in late 1997;
huh Admiral FAA Tech Perry and DQ-DAUT; how Atlantic City was what
was wiping out my life, it and Lenny FBI Backburner McKANNON. The
Briggbase strikes again, huh Bob Oakangel??????????????
THIS
IS NOT:
JOURNAL
TAPE CASSETTE NUMBER EQUIVALENT 25,794
**********with
or without the print-zits**********
Very
soon, we are going to quickly engage in the continuation of
discussing a lot of new stuff regarding the great game, great because
it is HER game, the
Almighty SSJK's game,
you know, GTNOTG, or spelled out, and given to me in 1996 early on
Saturday, Pearl Harbor Day, the seventh of December, “GUESS
GTHE NAME OF THE GUESTS”. Underestimating
the incredible stuff behind what happened to me early on this day
nearly twenty years ago, would be a major mistake on humanity's part,
I assure you. But you won't take my word for anything, so I am
wasting not only my time, but yours as well. Now
soon to follow blogs are going to tell the exact instructions for
working the FASCITAR-6-10-system, how to beat the waking freeze fear,
how to control sleep after sleeping and waking up, and a lot more.
This is not for the faint hearted. Ask monster ass Lakehouse
Okay-2-Choke-me Nick. Or better still, distant Cuzz David; I can take
my washcloth lungs from 1970, 'booby'; and jail house 2010 Boo; and
scrub my hands real good, while my throat gets squeezed, and I get
major lied to, by mean nasty scary giant African Americans, toting
guns under their suit jackets, and calling themselves the
Rastafarian's; and all of this; while also simultaneously getting all
four of my automobile hubcaps hammered and broken, while I go inside
of a small psychic shop, Mister Games Expert Patrick Jane; to get a
Tarot Card reading, after leaving a swim and health club; and before
going home to a nice home cooked meal, from my nice whittle mommy, in
1996, and then 33 weeks later, along comes PEE, and more memory loss
for me at the great Sam and Son of Sam Highview Christy Cheers
Apartments, of good old giant WILL-I-AM-ST-OWN
police
officer syndrome city (GWPOS)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
why the movie called, “THE RING” brought a lot of shit to my mind
that made me aware that I had blocked this dude out of consciousness
all these dam years, 43+, is not too hard to work with and analyze.
THAT
WAS THE EQUATION
all along; right Nurse
Chapel,
Doctor
Roger Corby,
and Gene
Allberries Roddenberry,
of Blucranville, of all great Incollingo's Grocery Store cup cakes,
with transdimensional ingredients???????? And so exactly why didn't
the hang in there forest fire Huntington Hammonton Police, fine me
that day for not having proper identification, during that attempted
murder, and transdimensional shifting of the Blucran
Mysteries.
I'll bet you all a million dollars, that super
talented and wonder MC,
knows
a lot more than she will ever tell!!!!!!!!
Things
are, as always, way more “intricate”, to quote my
comment, to parallel-universe-Paul Pedersen, from somewhere around
2006, give or take a year; at that shopping mall, where there is both
a K-MART Store, and an EXXON GASOLINE station; or at least there was,
as who can ever keep up with the changing world one hundred percent
of the time; and this place is located on Blackwood-Clementon Road,
just half a mile north of the Highland High School, up in
Southwestern New Jersey, USA. Permit me to post the date-time-weather
info, and then I'll get into the specifics of what I am talking
about, my kind folks out there!
 |
|
|
What
to do, and where they may possibly go, REAL WORLD, WOW Mister
Shakespeare, what a question that would be, OR NOT BE, huh, YO???
There
is a whole lot more to this story of my weekend, and the movie, “THE
RING”,
as far as just what I have told you all so far, regarding
re-remembering that my mail box at my Atco home, in 1983, was not
damaged in the way that I forced myself to think. I had shut out the
truth from my mind because it was just as hard for me to deal with,
as lovely Swedish Venka at Cooley Hall, making mince meat out of my
tiny miniscule physical strength, next to hers. When I needed to use
that memory however, I brought it back into my surface mental
consciousness, over at Tom Chillmo's home, in Ventnor, New Jersey, in
1970, as discussed on prior early Morianity blogging from the first
two years of it, in 2006 and 2007. In any event, folks; I am not
going to even begin to say all of the things that are involved in
1983, with this mailbox, and yes, I am not going to lie about seeing
the man in 1996, thirteen years later, who terrorized my mother
directly, and me indirectly, in Turnersville, New Jersey, USA, and
the Prosecutors and police refused to help us in any way at all, just
like the KENNEDY ASSASSINATION COVERUP AND UFO COVERUP AND because it
is all one star family that is behind this, and not whether an
individual bullet was magical and traveled in warp drive through a
hundred impossible pathways, or whether Sally-Dee and her brother
Hadley-Tom witnessed a ''real-UFO'' and even snapped photos. This is
all as meaningless as in the grand scheme of all this BRICK WALL,
HALLS WALLS, HALLS FAWCES nightmare, as would be a bunch of tiny
toddlers playing in Central Park in NYNY-USA, and a nuke bomb is
heading for the city and will arrive in a matter of minutes.
This
came to me in early 1984 or maybe the end of 1983, in a very nice and
polite letter, from the Governor of my state back then, a hell of a
nice fellow who went onto have quite a successful public career,
Mister Tom Kean. He said to me, in response to my letter to him, that
complained about a
specific thing
that was done to me one day, while I was gambling at the Golden
Nugget Hotel and Casino, in Atlantic City, “I
don't think you want me to (paraphrased-get involved with one
particular
play) at the gaming table that you mention”,
and then he went onto discuss what I had written about, involving
an overall
harassment
I felt that I was being given, by the casino's of Atlantic City, in
general. I want you all to focus on that sentence that I admit I do
not recall the exact words that Governor Kean used, but it was close
to what I wrote in here, in a paraphrase that I put into parenthesis.
It is not about any one thing!!!!!!!!! None of this ever was or will
be, about ONE
PARTICULAR THING.
But take all of those particular things together, and we no longer
have one particular thing that is going on. The biggest thing of all,
is most likely the fact that they have always worried that I would
put together something I learned about, when I was in my nightmare
mid-life crisis of a sort, and frantically searching FOR
MY SARAH,
back
in the middle nineteen-nineties,
huh Misses Estelle Anderson Bassler, of Ormond Beach, Florida,
USA?????????????????? Let me go onto explain that a little bit, YO.
I
cannot tell exactly who told what, or what I heard through what IMHO
were very reliable grapevines, and things along this nature; but I
learned around the time that I was writing my blog about a year, that
I am already in this family of great washcloths, long before I was
brought further into it, during a summer time act of passion,
underneath the Central Pier of Atlantic City, on the first Saturday
of July in the year 1969. It seems that Robert McGuire's grandfather
was a first cousin to my mother's Aunt Alice Gallagher, of Chicago,
Illinois. One day in the early winter time of 1948, McGuire's grand
dad, and her husband, My Great Uncle Arthur or whatever the relation
would be, who axed this lady, and her mom, in their dam sleep, in a
suburb of Boston, Massachusetts; one snowy cold winter's night,
before hanging himself in the basement; went to New Mexico on a
hunting trip, after leaving a two day mid-west Pennsylvania
excursion. They went to a place that I think was called Deer Pass out
not that far from nee-nee-nee-nee-ville and the alien bullshit all
supposedly went down. To hear this told, we learned from the
Exploratronic supermind Society who was faking out that they were
space aliens with a magical powerful space saucer with half
humanoid-half android entities, supposedly interacted with these men,
and even as the Christians would call it, “possessed them”.
Normally this is done to us while we sleep, but not in this case,
because this was all to begin some major WASHCLOTH-FAMILY thing, that
even Morianity does not have all the dam answers to. But I do know
one thing about that repressed memory. My mom described that huge
Indian descent man with the real large round face and his lime bright
green truck, on that day of terror, on 2 August in 1996, ten years to
the day of what caused my dam ass APOLOGY-SONG to be written, and
that description is about as dead on to the man who exited his lime
green bright colored truck, who kicked over my mailbox. On that truck
was a photo of some stupid flying saucer and some stupid ass looking
alien. My mom also told me about that same thing on that truck
thirteen years later, so it just has to be the guy, plus mom told me
he was about late fortyish in age, and he was looking around age 35
to me, when I saw him on that late spring night back in the year of
1983. This is all why I bring up that cool fucking documentary on
television that I saw, so dam often on my blogs, from 1988, called,
“UFO-THE
COVER UP”,
on WPIX,
New York City, TV,
YO!!!!
Holy
Jesus Juice and atomic shoes from the Cherry Hill Subaru Plant, 'WHAT
NEXT', BIG DAM O, and J. Judy? WOW, could it be THE WEEKEND OF THE
RING? It sure wasn't my pants not going down all the say to my dam
ass shoes, or any nuclear shoes that got me covertly fired without
one explanation, in enemy wealth territory up in Jersey, that's also
known as (AKA) CHERRY HILL!
I
wanted so badly to be with my Diana (The Lightning Goddess of the
Earth), out in the Purgatory, but kept drifting away and out into
hyperspace! I can add in here a timeless phrase that abbreviates the
very well know terms of “same old-same old,
what else is new, same shit on a different
day”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD
Blockbuster
and places like this have all gone out of business. I will be talking
to the K-MART and the Walmart electronics managers to see what to do
and where they may possibly go, REAL WORLD, to rent and buy video and
movies, as this online shit can go suck my dick. I am not buying and
trusting giving out any personal info, and I am therefore unable to
do squat on this fucking cunt lapping computer and internet! I WILL
get that dam movie, THE RING, and I WILL learn what I need to
learn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ALL
SAVANTS KNOW THIS IS (THE END)!!!!
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 51
WOW
WHAT A MOTHER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY THIS WAS, AND WHY THE MOTHER FUCKING
HELL NOT, AS THE NUMBER-DATE IS ONE-ELEVEN. NORMALLY THE ELEVENTH
CUNT CHEWING DAY OF BOTH JANUARY AND NOVEMBER, EVERY SINGLE DICK
LICKING YEAR IS SUPER FUCKING BAD FOR ME!
NO
ONE WOULD CALL ME BACK WITH HELP FOR MY MEDICAID PROBLEMS, AND I
COULD NOT REACH ANYONE EITHER. WHEN I HAVE THESE TYPE OF
UNREACHABLE-TELEPHONE DAYS, ALL THINGS FUCK UP. MIKEY WANTED ME TO
TALK TO A FRIEND OF HIS REGARDING THE GAWNUM EQUATIONS, AND I DID NOT
GET VERY FAR WITH THAT EITHER. SHE DID NOT SEEM TO BE TOO
ENTHUSIASTIC AS HE HAD TOLD ME SHE MIGHT BE. I WILL TELL HIM THIS
WHEN HE CALLS ME TONIGHT. THINGS ARE VERY VERY MOTHER FUCKIGN
HORRIBLE FOR ME, NOT JUST TODAY OR IN 2016, BUT FOR 61 MOTHER FUCKING
ENTIRE CUNT LAPPING YEARS NOW!!!!!!!!!!
I
have tried so mother fucking hard all of my cunt lapping mother
fucking life, AND NOTHING EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER
EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' DICK LICKING
WORKS FOR ME, YO; N-O-T-H-I-N-G!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
IS HOW YOU KNOW THAT GOD HATES YOUR MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' TOTAL ASSHOLE
GUTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MY
ILLEGAL SCUM SUCKING NABES
FROM HELL, WERE REAL BAD EARLY THIS AFTYERNOON,
AND ALSO ALL MORNING LONG, DEBRA MARATTO, RESIDENT MANAGER OF THIS
MOTHER FUCKING HELLHOLE PUBLIC PUSSY HUFFING HOUSING SHITHOLE; YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO BRO!!!!!!!!
WHY
DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS,
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????
WHY
DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS,
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK
FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME
SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO
YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS,
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK
FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME
SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO
YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS,
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK
FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME
SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO
YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS,
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK
FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME
SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO
YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS,
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK
FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME
SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO
YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS,
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK
FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME
SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO
YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS,
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK
FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME
SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO
YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS,
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK
FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO YOU HATE ME
SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????WHY DO
YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, PINK FUCKING GODDESS,
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??????????
WHY
WON'T YOU HELP ME,
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
???????????????????????????????????????????????????
THE
END, ALL MOTHER FUCKERS EVERYWHERE!!!!
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 50
A
lot of people don't like stories that appear to be made up as they go
along. Well,
to quote my LATE-UNCLE Stuart Huntington Mason, “Tough
Beans”!!!!! Every
mother fucking year, my Florida
Medicaid benefits
are fucked with, no
matter how hard I try
to do all of the things expected of me by law, for re-certification.
The computer is hacked, so going online to try shit is impossible,
and then even when I did what I did this year, sign a power of
attorney of a sort over my benefits to some part of my HMO people,
who try tackling the problem for those who seem to have major
difficulty as do I,
and STILL it fucks up,
and I
get canceled, and go
through hell, trying
to get back on my legitimate medical benefits.
My income and present situation never changes, and all I get is my
Disability-SS money, and I live in a public housing unit, and that is
that, and nothing ever changes, yet
every mother fucking cunt chewing year; Pam Bondi, Florida Attorney
General, and Kenneth J. Mascara, County Sheriff of my county (Saint
Lucie) here in Florida, USA; I
get royally mother fuckiGN screwed.
There
is no way to win, year after year after year. This
evil government puts me through fucking hell because they despise me,
and want to covertly murder me, GUYS/GALS!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
am having a SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY. Ever since shortly before WALL
STREET'S OPENING FUCKING DIRT BAG HELL BELL;
my nabes from cunt huffing mother fucking hell are screwing with me,
making
constant bangs and
doing this same horse shit that they do, to fuck with me, and annoy
me to death; SHERIFF MASCARA, SIR, and ATTORNEY GENERAL BONDI, MA'AM,
YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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.
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Advisory
Colors Key
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Winter
Storm Watch
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Flood
Warning
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Non-Precipitation
Advisory
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Flood
Statement
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Hey
Clueless Poolroy and Shoeless Joe Jackson; is this HELL or FLORIDA?
JANUARY
22, 2016,
MONDAY
AFTERNOON AT 12:07,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 60 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H-60/L-50).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 70%, AND WIND CHILL IS 59.
WIND
IS NW AT 7, GUSTING SLIGHTLY TO 9.
TOTAL
RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---0.
PREDICTED
HIGH TODAY IS 68.
IT
IS FINALLY FEELING LIKE FUCKING JANUARY!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!
WELL
GOOOOOLLLLLEY, SARGE; AM I JUST DREAMING I AM BACK AT WORLD LABS ON
PYLE AVENUE HADDON HILLS, OR IS IT REALLY FUCKING 2293??????????
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2016.
THERE
IS NO WAY THAT TOM REALE, IN JULY OF 1970, WOULD HAVE BEEN THAT
UPSET, ON THAT FATEFUL NIGHT OF THE FIREWORKS; IF HE WAS NOT ALL PART
OF WHAT HAPPENED THE YEAR BEFORE THAT, AND WAS NOT ALSO A MEMBER OF
THE GREAT AND POWERFUL (ESS) EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY!
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