GUESS THE
NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 114
|
||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||
|
||||||
KEEP
YOUR BIG MOUTH SHUT NOW, DONNA!!!
She
used to say, and I quote; “If you don't like cats and dogs and
kids, there's got to be something wrong with you somewhere”. I am
speaking of the world's great and now sadly late, disco diva, Mizz
Donna Gaines Summer!
If
this was a real world; some fuckiGN attorney, or somebody, would
contact me; verify all my mother fuckiGN shit, and then split the
lawsuits that I legally deserve to pursue, on a 50/50
contingency!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is how I know that I died and
went to fuckiGN HELL, a very long fuckiGN cunt ass time ago; you
rotten old stinky world!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Folks,
this may not seem like some real bright shiny morning, and believe me
it isn't one for me and never fucking has been. Still, I know for a
fact that nothing just ever randomly happens in this life. All things
happen for a reason as well, and the reasons are every single little
bit as relative, as is the life that flows through bodies of clay
since time began and life dawned here on Planet Earth.
Beginning
at shortly past fuckiGN ten this morning, right around the same time
as yesterday's fire alarm, I have had to put up with some dirt bag
hammering again. They can always have an excuse to be doing or fixing
something, and I know it is not just happening outside of me and my
fucking problems with this cunt chewing stock market. The past two
days I have suffered through some really nasty fuckign bowel and
diarrhea attack as well. This fucking annoying hammering is
intermittent and is still going on at twenty past noon.
Yesterday
while on my shopping errands, I purchased several VHS movie tapes
over at the local GOODWILL store at the Virginia Avenue Shopping
Mall. One of these tapes was the Episode
#7 from the year 1987, of the STAR TREK, THE NEXT GENERATION TV show,
called “JUSTICE”.
This was one of the better ones, and they all
are great SYFY fiction shows, and were all done well. But I
did not buy and watch this for no reason. Suddenly, I see
how the Exploratronic Supermind
Society, indeed after being a part of this mind
boggling dream-force group, goes beyond just living as humans who are
no longer trapped in three dimensions. The very art and ability of
doing this, transforms them into the gods so to speak. The problem is
that I wonder if the chicken was what came first, or was it the egg;
or do they both spontaneously
burst
into fiery flames, for fucking crying out goddess
dam loud? Also, by the very nature of dream travel that opens up the
gateway past the original three dimensions, into the fourth and fifth
ones; would it even matter if A was before B, or if B was before A? I
certainly don't see how it would, oh great Paramount Picture Studios,
out there in Hollywood, California, USA! Think about it all!!!!
|
Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
|
PAu000204016
|
1980
|
Our
love was true, our love was rare
No
other love could ever compare
Now
that you're gone
My
spirits are low
And
baby baby baby, I love you so.
©
1977 Mark Wayne Mohr
Re-copyrighted
as a compilation music project in June of 1980, from my apartment
at 1802 Robin Hill, 4th and Preston, Voorhees Township,
NJ-USA.
Everyone
in the galaxy can go fuck off if they want to doubt that all the shit
that went down around me back in 1980 was not all meant to happen,
and done by none other than PINK GODDESS HERSELF.
Now
why dream travelers went into the Roddenberry crew to create Star
Trek is anybody's guess, here in this 50 year anniversary of the
creation of this entire culture that evolved out of it. But these
trekkers who go to conventions and the biggest fans alike, are
clueless to how those who created it supposedly, are not really from
our present world or nearly present world of fifty years ago. The one
thing that seems to follow an unavoidable pathway through all of this
however, is that everything appears to be bored to tears advanced
beings who pass eternity by PLAYING MIND BLOWING FUCKING GAMES with
those who are less advanced than they are. This of course explains
their utter disdain and total monstrous fucking hatred for anyone
such as myself who gets truly onto them and what they do!!! I
personally find them quite fucking abominable and detestable, and I
promise them, with or without my mother in Atlantic City while we
were staying at the Bruce Manor Motel in the very early
nineteen-sixties, quite incorrigible as well, YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
They're being being set in their ways and the quintessential old dogs
unable to learn new tricks. I am onto more fucking shit than even the
great BFA are, IPYT folks.
GAMES,
GAMES, GAMES
GAMES,
GAMES, GAMES
GAMES,
GAMES, GAMES
GAMES,
GAMES, GAMES
GAMES,
GAMES, GAMES
Additional Football Betting Guides Included In Our Series:
Bovada Sportsbook - Top Rated US Football Betting Site
Bovada
Sportsbook - $250 Bonus
SO
CAN A LOT OF OTHER MOTHER FUCKING REALITIES. Just why is
wonderful Russia the largest global viewer of the Blogs Of
Mountainpen (BOM)? Why did Paula king and Sarah Callio do all of
these things to me in the 60's, and then again in the 90's? Why was I
meant to know about the three magical focal points of the great
Cooley Hall wormhole as well as receive the big audio prize at one of
them late in the year 1980? Why did Bob McDowell become the great
head of the FCC? Why did my baby mama rape me not once but four
times, and why did all of the events that followed, all go down?
Anyone following morianity for a minimum of three years let alone the
full decade of it now on two separate blog addresses, knows perfectly
well that these are merely highlighted top head lines in a list that
could proceed right on down the mother fucking line for pages and
pages and pages just like the questions that started it
all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
biggest game of all is what happened to me in hyperspace before I
awoke out of it to find myself in the following day on August 15,
1986, only it was not like any day or life I ever knew before it,
despite my life not exactly ever being the life of Mister Joe normal.
What really happened? Naturally I can play around with the facts for
a lifetime and have, and only be maybe if very lucky, one or two
percent on my way towards any real accuracy. BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
kind folks; knowing that one huge ass fucking GAME is behind these OZ
CURTAINS, along with the great PINK
GODDESS JEHOVAH KRASSLE, places me always a step or so ahead
of where I would be if I refused to see the big GAME behind all of
it. As horrible as th e fuckiGN shit is around me for a lifetime, I
can step back and see that many people would view a lot of my shit as
the ultimate laugh stop to cure anybody's bad mood. As great as the 3
Stooges are, I know for a fact that many a day and week and month in
my life, if made into a show by a professional fucking studio such as
Paramount who created Star Trek, it would blow the 3 Stooges
away!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Horrible as my fucking shit ass life
is, I can take my life journal on cassette tape and go into
uncontrollable raucous laughter just by listening back to a tape made
during real serious fucking death sieges. I know, as I have done it;
sick and demented as this may fucking sound to any of you, YO BRAH!
END
TRANSMISSION.
No comments:
Post a Comment