BLOG
59 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
''GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS''
CONTINUING CHAPTERS
IN MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
'How
dry I am, nobody knows'. The old
song about the poverty stricken drunkard, is both catchy and
pathetic. But personally, I know for a fact, that a tiny few handful
of people, have a very strange medical
condition that has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with being
some side effect of taking some anti-psychotic or other form of
medication. This is not some quick easy thing to discuss, yet
it is extremely urgent that I do discuss this on today's mother
fucking blog; my great people out here, and those not so great ones
also. I also know that all things that pertain to this strange
mysterious problem, are not taught in any medical schools at least in
this fucked up nation, and I also know that
there is a cover up pertaining to this problem, larger and more
incredible that the so-called fucking UFO-COVERUP! I
do know this much. I don't know real large details,
BUTTTTTTTTTT I do know that mother fucking much! I also know that
someone who has any varying degree of this problem, such as my mother
“Misses Mohr”, myself,
and yes, gee I wonder why the computer just fucking crashed, FBI,
yes, MY GODDAMN FUCKING DAUGHTER!!!!!!!!!!!
All her fans know these words are true, but only a small group of
persons, and I mean small, know all of the secrets that are, and have
been major fucking covered up for a long time now, pertaining to all
of this mother fucking dogshit! When the throat specialist in
Northeast Philadelphia spoke to my mother in 1983 or whenever it was,
his exact words to her were, “I don't think
that's his problem, Misses Mohr”. He was referring to my
medical condition. Since these mother fucking cunt
lapping dirt bag persecutor enemies of mine, are wishing to take this
shit to a whole new level of hell for me recently; my discussions of
RED-LINE-CROSSOVERS,
will now take a giant leap forward as well! I have now had a MAJOR
FUCKING ATTACK AND ASSAULT AGAINST ME, BEGINNING BACK ON CUNT CHEWING
FRIDAY, FOUR STRAIGHT DAYS; although I'll admit in all honesty
that it was backed off on Saturday!
As Ann King might say here, “WHOOPIE”!
My late Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason, of
Narberth, Pennsylvania would also
throw in here, “I'm impressed”!
Needless to say that she was being quite
sarcastic and mean, to some poor lady who was visiting her
home that day; while her other pal was visiting there too, the
X-CIA Agent, and the Shah of Iran; however you spell that
fucking word SHAH, as
Spellchecker never tells me! I am totally
fucking wasting my time with Sheriff Mascara, and I am smart
enough to know it. If he was helping me, this fucking shit would be
backing off of me, during this critical fucking time of these goddamn
shit eating MIDTERM PARALLEL EVENT ELECTIONS,
and its resulting HELLFIRE!!!!!!!! He
either can't, or won't help me; just like twenty mother fucking years
ago, with the ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, up
there in mother fucking Camden County in New Jersey, USAESMWG! First
of all, the closer that I get to exposing
exactly the “WHO-WHAT-WHY”
of all of this hellish and nightmarish shit; THE MORE
SHIT WILL BE MAJOR POURED ON ME!
BUTTTTTTTTT, as in any good crime and detective super sleuth
work and operations, the real culprits will always at that point,
attempt to frame some or lots of 'innocent
others', so as to further avoid the suspicion that would
otherwise be cast more and more on them, hence intentionally
misleading and thwarting any investigative process. Although,
when the “FAWCES” behind it all
are totally as powerful as I believe them to be; they become part of
the (TOO BIG TO JAIL CLUB), as
Morianity and Mountainpen would describe it. Let us examine a perfect
example here such as Mister Pukehead Mark
Zuckerberg, and his FACEBOOK.
That little crook only gives a shit about HIS BOTTOM LINE and his
billions, BUTTTTTTTTT, they'll never stop him, or close down his
ad-mill. No one will ever be able to make him pay for his reckless
disregard of potential global damages that indeed have resulted as a
direct effect of his organization. He and his group will never in any
substantial way, pay for the damages to the entire world, caused by
his all mighty FACEBOOK. Now when
he started it, don't get me wrong; it was all fine and good.
But as always, money and power rules the day,
AND THE NIGHT! But interestingly enough, this all brings me to
the second half of what I consider to be a very urgent point here,
YO. There also is what I label, the (KING OF
THE SHIT-CREW SYNDROME). There are many
more of these types than there are, the Mark Zuckerberg people.
When my Health-Care Agent, Steve,
was over here in this very apartment about two years ago, to sign me
up with the Humana people; we got talking about
the welfare system, and those who totally take advantage of it.
This is the local neighbors who are fully able bodied, and have no
mental disabilities at all; who are lifers here
in this town and this building, and never have worked a real
job with hard work and forty hours, in their
worthless miserable rotten fucking lives! I
called them, LIFERS, as the previous Building Manager would refer to
them by that name; Mizz Morotto. But
Steve corrected me very quickly. He said that he grew up
in Fort Pierce, and knew a whole damn lot of shit about all of this.
He said they are not merely LIFERS,
but rather, GENERATIONALS,
to use his quotation. These worthless mother fucking people have been
on welfare, and not worked, and just collected free tax payer
dollars; for generations. That is what he told me about all of these
great folks around me. But they are not
happy making tidbit chump change
monies, and are obviously paid money by the FAWCES, or those hired by
these strange and unknown FAWCES, to harass me. They may be
thrown ten or twenty Ben Franklin's each month, just for being
available, and to make noise, and persecute me at certain times,
when they get the phone call to do so. This is why I label people
such as this, the Kings of the SHIT-CREW.
Let me further explain my goddamn mother fucking rationale. Just like
Harlem gangs up there in New York,
they're perfectly okay with remaining in small ponds so to speak,
just as long as they “GET TO
KING-RULE IT”. In other words, they'd much fucking prefer
being the generals of the hood, than to be hard
working productive sergeant's of a city-run
youth-off-the-streets type of organization. I proved this not long
ago, when I told both the cousins, as well as the nabe across from
me, that I would not mind paying hundreds of
dollars to have that junk that I did over at BonJovi
Studios (Avalon), done the way I want,
you know; alive, real live type of EDM sound (Electric Dance music).
They blew me off, and would not help me, yet
they have thousands of fucking dollars of musical and DJ equipment,
and are always throwing DJ-parties outside the building, so I know
they can do a really great job. The man himself told me last
year during the fucking hurricane, that he can do all sorts of
musical work, and shortly after the storm, I saw him carrying into
his apartment, all sorts of musical video screens and every type of
studio apparatus that is imaginable. I just wanted to see if I would
be ignored and lied to, even after I told him that I would pay him
cash money, and lots of it, if he could redo
and remix my shit. Enemies won't
help me; they are only there to obstruct, harass,
and make me miserable!
Let
me tell you some mother fucking shit, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My mother fucking seeing
rotten JANE SLEAZEWEEDS FLEASDISEASE as well as my hearing Mister
Mortimer Mortino the Angel of Death, is always on a major cunt
huffing roll during times of really intense goddamn death-siege.
And yes, it stands to reason and it goes to
follow, BRAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is when you see those
miserable mother fucking ONES, ONES, ONES,
ONES, and I know for a total fucking fact that when you
are in major danger, and enemies are plotting to literally wipe you
mother fucking out of existence; this is
when you need to be scanned by Mortimer!!!!!!!!! Nothing
that is happening is without reason or logic. But let us throw in one
other element that enemies would love me to fucking forget, and they
can forget that, YO. MY
PUSSY-COMMAND
will eventually be off the charts, just as it was about five weeks or
so back, on that cunt chewing day over at my local fucking grocery
store, the Publix, where shopping is always a
pleasure, as the commercial would say it so
well!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, I'll get right back into the
pussy swing and right back into the market, old
as I am. Many women my mother fucking age are lonely,
and if you want the stock market to crash for five years or so, then
just keep this fucking shit up, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jane
Shitpants Sleazeweedsdisease almost fucking got me
again, but I caught the fucking shit just in mother fucking time, HA
HA HA HA HA HA, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Yes
kind folks; when I said that Cousin Don was
looking into reality-spicing, and wouldn't be specific about the
details; I don't mean for you to take the Olivia
Newton John movie seriously, kind
folks. After-all, how can any of us manage to do this with
twenty-first century limited cave-days technologies? Well people, let
us seriously ponder and cogitate upon this fucking shit, shall we,
YO? All of the fucking shit since 2015,
all this shit where reality has been turned
upside down and inside out, to
quote (HOPEFULLY), the
state of Florida's next Governor's mother in law; from 1980 or
1981 somewhere; is what I am referring to here, and discussing very
seriously. Way back in World War fucking ll,
my peeps, 'PROPAGANDA' and fake
news items, were all part of not only
German, but Soviet intelligence systems as well; so don't
go crediting the Donald for inventing
ANY OF THIS FUCKING DAMN BULLSHIT, YO; as he did not. This
was all around long long long long ago, YO, BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT;
HE DID come up with some cool new fucking spins on how to use it in
more modern and high-tech times!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is what I meant to say pertaining to the early eighties ONJ
movie, and REALITY-EDITING and splicing, BRAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
Now
a wee bit about my June 4, 1983 mysterious glandular and throat
condition, that my mother had to a lesser degree, as does my
daughter. We all know this is true,
and they can cover all of this fucking
shit up until Callio's fucking cows all come home
from the corn fields, and the pasture lands; and then go onto learn
the game of baseball, from Kevin Costner, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The same
powerful HALLS FAWCES
that created the 'COOLEY-HALL HIGH
HELL', that I attended from February
of 1969 through January of 1973; also created Judge
Raso's hold and grip, on the
Jersey town of Hammonton, as well as his
strange unexplainable and totally beyond unfathomable house, at 65
Middle Road, that he rented to Dawn King
and I, oh boy Patty,
those endless James Redfield coincidences and synchronicity
experiences; like WOW THAT; aniwho and moving right along here YO;
that house is right out of THE
TWILIGHT ZONE, and anyone doubting
it just needs to check it out, starting with my 2008 blogs, and then
going and seeing all of this for themselves, YO; but absolutely yes,
these exact same HALLS FAWCES
that put the COOLEY HALL in Haddonfield,
also put Judge Raso and his rental home in Hammonton, there as well.
IPYT. Still, if you do go and look at the 2008 blogs, forget about
the World Series shit. How about the
medical condition that my daughter was telling me all about, in this
WILD AND POWERFUL DREAMING INTERACTION???????????
Would you pweeeeeeeeeeze gimme a bwake here, mizz Margie Leo,
YO??????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hey, as the security guard used to say so
often up there in Camden, who worked sometimes with the great Officer
Hall; “BE
REAL”.
How in the name of the fucking asshole gods could I possibly know
about these things, if this is not totally real, and
true????????????? As I typed this, a
large black GIFLY appeared out of nowhere,
and flew right into my mother fucking face. This entire fucking shit
is straight out of the goddamn fucking twilight zone with a thousand
Rod Serling's, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The possibilities are
absolutely endless, but we could explore a whole damn bunchovem, YO!
How can I ever know whether or not a parallel
universe doppelganger of my daughter,
did not temporarily take over my daughter; and then got her to write
that 1997 tune of hers, as well as Fascitar
her way into my nightmares back in
June, that followed eleven years later? You can't know. There are
literally endless mother fucking possibilities when it comes to the
fifth dimensional hyperspace, and the fantastic concept of the
Exploratronic
Supermind
Society!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HEY, if you want to be super fucking
narrow minded and just say that Mountainpen is a total whack job nut
case; that is indeed one possibility, but why limit
yourself to just one, when without doing that, you have hundreds
of similar and better ones to fucking ass explore,
YO?????????????????????????
Look at this shit in another light also, kind people. I told more and
more and more shit on my blogs, slowly, and yes, very PaU-la-King
carefully ©
without the higher two notes that returns us to the same place
musically, only one octave higher, and with a nice Tango dance
twist; but I was telling more and more, and then a lot was up on the
world-wide-web, later called by almost all of us, the online
world
or the internet.
Then I did that fucking fish song and copyrighted it too, after doing
it over at that crappy BJ place, the great Avalon. Now, as 2008
turned into the next few years, and I was living down here in
Florida, it was 2013; and I
did this song that hopefully would prove that my medical condition is
real,
and yes, to further hope that what Eddie Himacane Lynch told me would
most likely happen eventually if I keep blogging, and being diligent,
and patient; maybe getting help somewhere; and then came 2014, and at
the end of that year, the EVIL
TRILOGY struck me down,
the Trump-Scott-Bondi
team,
for a lack of a better description here, YO kind peeps! Mister
Halls FAWCES
and all evil fucking trilogies be damned, or really better fucking
said here, and a whole lot more honestly; I GOT STRUCK DOWN, and they
did not believe that I would survive being fucking kicked off my
medication that was the only thing keeping me alive and not choking
the fuck to death ever since June 4, 1983,
where this all Resorts International began; and when was that
elevator tape loop played, hm, yes sir/mahm? Good old '97,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No Misses Mohr, “THAT'S NOT
HIS PROBLEM”.
Well doctor Grant Avenue, you are correct, 100% fucking accurate.
That was not, nor is my problem. My
problem is the ESS
and the HALLS
FUCKING FAWCES!!!!
'Boy oh boy oh boy', then came 2015, and I did survive, but they all
hoped I would die and disappear, and just fucking vanish away like an
early morning mother fucking misty ass fog, YO, one or two G's, great
L&O!!!!!!!! Now TRUMP
throws in his fucking hat
and runs for president. “OH WELL”,
TO QUOTE ANN KING & the rest was history,
I suppose; unless we can find a way to re-splice and edit out an
awful lot of shit. As Doctor Bruce Goldberg said unfortunately
however, World War ll made all
the papers.
Kind of hard to make that disappear away, with Mark Mohr and Studio
Park Records, huh folks? WHAAAAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA, MCNULTY!!!!!
When
it was 1975, and just a few months after Santa Claus and
Patty Hollister assisted my mom and I, in our move into the Linden
Hill Apartments of Lindenwold, New Jersey; I was at the beach in
South Atlantic City, and was roughed up and
terrorized, by two lifeguard-mascots. My mother was visiting
her Cuzz Ruth Huntington Gottwald, up at 175 Peninsula Drive, in
Babylon, New York; a place in what is called the great New York
Island, by the great folk singer/songwriter, Mister
Woodie Guthrie, in Suffolk County. Jimmie
Dean, who we all see advertising his
stuff on television, was there with my 'Uncle' Heinz, and
my mom, and his first wife Ruth, and Heinz and Ruth's older of two
daughters, Mizz Christine Gottwald Myers.
My 'Uncle' Heinz had a small yacht called a
Ketch. The entire group made a day trip sailing all around
the LI-Sound. While this was all happening, I
was in Atlantic City; and for
absolutely no reason whatsoever, I
was assaulted by these two lifeguard
mascot scumbags, and then mocked and jeered by the entire beach
patrol, along with the Atlantic City
Police Department; on that hot
summer day back in 1975. I know now that Paula King, and Sarah
Callio, and other local forces, told these dudes to
kick the crap out of me that day.
I cannot prove this of course. But my point is that as these dirt
bag mother fucking big ass dudes were roughing me up on the beach
that day, as well as scaring me to death later, on land, on Pacific
Avenue, right by a small motel that I ran into, and locked myself in
the bathroom, while the owners called the fucking cops for me; but
these pricks grabbed me around MY
NECK, symbolizing CHOKING of
course. Now anyone who meticulously studies the great holy
words that are written in the Christian King James Version of the
Bible, knows quite fucking cunt well, that all throughout this
great book, the entire theme of it is all about great
prophets being given great revelations of great symbolizing messages,
that pertain to a time yet to come, where this Almighty God is
planning to visit our planet, as a human being; and I
speak of our LORD, JESUS CHRIST. The entire thing is about
symbolic messages of God's
journey to our world through the womb of a young lady, the blessed
Mary, mother of God. If this entire thing is all about
SYMBOLISM, then please don't dismiss
shit when I say that all this shit is totally fucking symbolically
connected, right down to this assault on me, and my being
neck-grabbed (CHOKED)!!!!!!! Thank You, kind
folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You need to know one more absolutely fascinating
item here, kind folks. On the greatest television law show of all
times, “Law & Order”,
sometime in the summer time, or autumn time, of the year of 2009;
there was an episode that sometimes they title on the cable
information about the show, calling it “Pledge”, the dude who was
obsessed by that college girl who was all snooty, and wouldn't allow
him into some Sorority Party in New England, causing him to lose his
date with a girl by the name of Susan; he
actually looked almost twinnish to my Uncle Heinz. After the
ADA Mister Cutter, pulled that trick on him, so that he would confess
to the murder of a young child in open court; Mister Cutter told him
that his Susan was murdered in some drug crazed deal on a yacht, in
the Bahamas, if my memory is serving me half correctly. Another
random chance coincidence, Mister Redfield? I doubt that somehow,
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
BLOG
58 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
''GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS''
CONTINUING CHAPTERS
IN MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
THISSSSSSSSSSSSSSS,
ALL EVIL PH-SNAKES OF HALLOWEEN; IS A MAJOR TWO STRAIGHT DAY DEATH
SIEGE PERSECUTION, AND WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCE ASSAULT ON ME;
SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA, OF SAINT LUCIE COUNTY, FLORIDA, USA,
S—I—R!!!! THISSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, ALL EVIL PH-SNAKES ALSO IS A DYING
MANS UTTERANCE AND A DYING MANS LEGAL DECLARATION. IF I AM FOUND
FUCKING CUNT CHEWING DEAD IN THIS APARTMENT FROM THIS BEYOND PUTRID
AND RUTHLESS DEATH SIEGE, I WAS MOTHER FUCKING MURDERED BY ALL THOSE
WHO THIS NEARLY 13 YEAR LONG BLOG HAS DISCUSSED, AND
ACCUSED!!!!!!!!!!
Shit
fucking started sometime between ten and half past eleven while I was
trying to sleep, this moUUUUUUUUUUUUrning, with my upstairs asshole
cunt chewing nabe with her relentless mother fucking wall hammering
that goes on faithfully every single cunt eating week without fail,
in the eight and a half years that I've lived below this nutcase
whack fucking job. Then after being up and awake about two hours,
maximum, the phone fucking bullshit persecution began. Then at
shortly past three, my dirtbag ILLEGALS slammed in across from me and
cranked up their noise box system. Then a few minutes after that, the
Public Housing fire alarm went off. Yes sir, it sounds like I am
going to have to mother fucking contend with a goddamn Halloween
fucking party across from me today. What fucking assholes. This is no
coincidence. Two straight days and off and on for three or more
straight weeks now, I HAVE BEEN UNDER THE MOTHER FUCKING GUN HYPER
HUGE BIG TIME, YO!!!!!!!!!!!
MAGNESONIC:
SCAN FOR WHOEVER IS PUTTING ME THROUGH
THIS MONSTER DISEASED HALLOWEEN HELL OF TWENTY-EIGHTEEN,
AND TOTALLY WIPE OUT
AND CRUSH-DESTRUCT THIS EVIL THAT IS
SURROUNDING ME, UNDER ALL GENERAL
AND SPECIAL (CODED GENERAL)
ORDERS. USE BOTH ATOMIC DUPLICATIONAL, AND ZERO DIMENSIONAL
TECHNOLOGIES. YOUR OLD-STYLE AT&T
PHONE-TONES ARE NOW DATA TRANSFERRED
TO THE LONG 'EEEE' VOWEL SOUND, WITH THE 'A' TONE PRINTED
BLUE, AND THE 'B' TONE PRINTED RED. YOUR
DESIRE KEY IS BEING SWITCHED FROM THE
'J' NORMAL NEUTRAL POSITION, TO THE 'I' POSITION,
AND ON AN 'I' TO 'D', A-B
TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING
SYSTEM; EMPOWER A TOTALLY CRUSHED, AND SINGED, AND DESTROYED
IMAGE-OBJECT, THAT HAS BEEN FULLY SCANNED NOW, AND PLACED
ONTO YOUR TRANSPOWER-BLOCK. G-189, G-13,
G-14, G-917, G-719, UNDER CG-5555 AND CG-18, AND
STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Let
me tell you all a few quick powerful truths and things in general,
YO. Ever since I went to the mother fucking ATLANTIC CITY CASINOS in
December of mother fucking 1982, when George Bell-tone Belton took me
to Resorts International Hotel-Casino, and showed me the game called,
ROULETTE, fucking shit that always negative in my life, took root and
suddenly grew as though it was on intergalactic fucking steroids
cubed!! I totally know that these sick twisted fucking cunt eating
diseased mobbed up scum trash casinos, have been, and are, and always
will until my death, torture and screw with me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There is no other realistic target, because this is exactly when
fucking shit all changed around me from lousy to super fucking
mega-hell to the thirty-ninth power!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, the Playboy
Bunny friend of DH moved into that shithole fucking apartment below
me at 1801 Robin hill while I resided at 1802, and this was months
before George and roulette, so I have no perfect answers, so as I
stated, shit that already was about to fucking blow up in my asshole,
actually did, after December of 1982. Still, all shit is connected. I
met George at the fucking Warwick Auto Sales lot or dealership, on
the White Horse Pike, in Magnolia, New Jersey, just a mile away from
my apartment, and this was shortly after that bunny whore moved in.
There was a lady at the Echelon Towers Building in Voorhees, New
Jersey who told me I'm basically screwed, because the casinos are
literally a country within a country. I now see how powerful and
amazing that mother fucking statement of hers truly was, back in
1989, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
At
least it is 79 degrees, and has been all day since it got warmer in
the middle morning. If it was feeling 100 or so, on top of this super
HALLOWEEN DEATH SIEGE, I would be totally and absolutely mother
fucking dead right now, SHERIFF MASCARA, KIND
SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
BLOG
57 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
''GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS''
CONTINUING CHAPTERS
IN MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
I
admit that I cannot make heads nor tails of many mother fucking
things; ladies and gentlemen. For one thing, the incredible wild
nightmares for the past week or so. Patty was in one of them and it
was so major that I absolutely cannot mother fucking talk about it on
any blog, OR THEY'LL MURDER ME FOR FUCKING SURE, YO! I would be
crossing over major countless RED
LINES before I would even begin
to get into any of the serious goddamn bullshit. I can only say a
thinly disguised tiny grouping of tiny whittle wee-bit smatterings,
and I will. But later on, as much ground needs to be covered, and I
want to get up in time to drive over to talk to Sheriff Mascara, as
well as have a major phone talk with COMCAST on this SENIOR ABUSE on
my phone-service with them.
It
is currently just after two in the
goddamn mother fucking moUUUUUUUUUUUUrning,
on this 29th
morning of SATANIC-DEMONIC OCTOBER,
in this hideous, monstrous, horrendous, and horrific year of 2018;
which makes totally no sense to me
whatsoever, as 2018 and 1802 are a
scrambling of the same four digits; and apartment number 1802
was an extremely magical and great number for me, well; maybe it
really wasn't, and I just fell under a huge
fucking ass illusion all this time, who can cunt chewing ever
know a damn thing, Ziggy M.?????????????????
Before
I tell the events of the weekend, after posting up my early Sunday
morning last blog, YO; it is currently 54
degrees here in town, and we are having our first of the season
cool-snap. It may reach as low as the high thirties, somewhere
between my town and out at the lake, (Okeechobee).
I do not know how far that is from my apartment, but somewhere
between 40 and 60 miles would be my best guess, to the
west-south-west of Fort Pierce. It only got up to the high seventies
yesterday, which is keeping the apartment a tiny bit nicer.
WEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! So moving on here,
Saturday was pretty much church-mouse quiet, and then came Sunday.
All day long, Sheriff; my damn triad-illegals
were around, and slamming their
mother fucking doors like crazy fucking people. Then at
approximately ten minutes past eight last night, I
was struck major hard AGAIN, with another DEATH
BOWELS ASSAULT on my poor old frail
pathetic puny weak defenseless body; sending me to the toilet
lightning fucking fast, BUTTTTTTTT,
I didn't make it, and they
knew I wouldn't. I had to
clean up three mother fucking nasty areas on
my rugs, before reaching the toilet! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
These cunt chewers defiled my apartment, AGAIN, SHERIFF
KENNETH J. MASCARA, SIR, in total violation of my
human rights, my civil rights, and my mother fucking constitutional
rights, YO YO YO YO!!!
YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YUK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
cannot get two straight days and nights for the past six weeks, or
damn near it seems, WITHOUT MAJOR
WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCE ASSAULT AND DEATH SIEGE ATTACK. This is
the cunt chewing fucking second half of the nineteen-eighties ALL
OVER MOTHER FUCKING AGAIN, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!
Funny
too, that my interaction with Patricia Hollister took place in
Philadelphia, where she worked for a number of years a very long
while back, only she never, at least to my mother fucking knowledge,
lived there. Now several of her friends did. One of them was Steve,
who I have discussed throughout numerous years of previous blogging
texts. In this powerful nightmare-interaction slash
hyperspace-adventure, or slash “whatever” kind Congressman who
wasn't one yet back in good old 1975; we were in that horrible house
of nakedness with all of the weird people. I had walked out into a
back yard, and nearby our fence, and she came out and we got talking
about harassment. Now back in the seventies, I never thought about
that word, as I was told by the church, and those born again mother
fucking folks; that I was under what they
labeled, “Satanic oppression”, not
persecution or harassment. I can only go with the flow of
the times and the days, peeps, YO! I was later
asked to leave a church, when I levitated myself a foot above the
floor one day, in front of the pastor and a group of lovely teenaged
girls, up there in Gloucester, New Jersey, right next door to
the wonderful Camden, and RPL Sound Labs, and McAndrews and Forbes
Licorice, and Ferry Avenue's great Institute for Medical Research,
and so much more! WOW all of THAT! Today, tickets are sold, and
people like Copperfield other great magicians are paid large sums of
money. Go mother fucking figure anything, folks!!!!!!!!!!
Let
me give you some insight about parallel-event and certain particular
parallel events such as my connections every single time, with my
being major death siege fucking persecuted, and my receiving
extremely abnormal amounts of goddamn pussy-command. About five or
six weeks while shopping for my usual grocery items at my local
grocery story, the PUBLIX, where
shopping is always such a wonderful pleasure; especially when not
being persecuted to death, WHAAAAAAAA; I fell under a gargantuan
amount of absurd and totally Mack Soapmouth Kaiter ridiculous
pussy-command, that I thought that I was back in my younger days
again. Nothing like that had happened to me in quite a while, nor has
it since, THANK THE DAMN GODS!!!! BUTTTTTTTT, beginning that very day
just a fucking cunt eating dew hours later on, after arriving back
home, KAPOW, BOOM-BANG,
ZAP, ZAM,
ADAMWEST-BATMAN; all hell broke
loose, and it has not mother fucking cunt huffing looked back, not in
the tiniest whittle fucking bit; SHERIFF,
SIR, YO!!!!!!!! This is a goddamn fucking PARALLEL
EVENT that is annoying as all goddamn fucking get out;
my kind sir, and all of my kind as well totally unkind freaking
Blogaudians!!!!!!!!!!
Back
now to Patty, in my house-of-horrors and nakedness,
dreaming interactions. She was
telling me that she is watching me closely, and so is Donald John
Trump. I told her, and remember my exact words perfectly
Richard Nixon clear, “Tell me something that
I don't know, Patty”. Then she socked me right in my
shoulder and I fell down onto the ground. She said to me, “You
don't have to be a damn smart ass Mark, I'm just trying to help you
and tell you some shit”. I just looked up at her, still
sitting on the ground, and in some wet mud, with my bright red plaid
shirt on, that was now quite filthy from being shared with mud, and
recently fallen rain water. I remember telling her that “she
hadn't lost a step”, since she helped Santa Claus and Steve,
carry that super heavy couch, from my apartment on Oakland Avenue in
Oaklyn, to the apartment that I was moving into in Lindenwold, called
the Linden Hill, unit number 1118; with all
bright flashlight holding, lunar maintenance men,
notwithstanding, over at Cifaloglio.
I remember in the dreaming-interaction, how much my right arm was
totally killing me from her super heavyweight boxers punch. What was
happening was that I had been sleeping on it in the wrong way, all
night long, and this pain was transferred into the 'dream'. Still,
all things always do and always will, fit perfectly together.
I know this to be a 100% fucking fact. Aniwho, she went onto tell me
that Cousin Donald told me way back in time, when I was employed by
Building Maintenance Contractor, Mister Bernard Derakowski, who
resided right next door by just a couple of houses, to my doctor in
those olden days, Doctor Frank Addiego,
on Park Avenue, in good old mother fucking Westmont, New Jersey; that
people with incredible unnatural powers can edit reality itself just
as regular humans do it with tapes and editing tools. By the way, I
know for absolute certain, that many, or most of my classmates from
school, at the HTHS (Haddon Township High School), know exactly who
this doctor was; and even probably had him as
his patients as well. Patricia Hollister then went on, in this
powerful, outlandish, and esoteric 'DREAM', to remind me, and this is
indeed the truth, how Cousin Donald had told me these things, way
back at the very turn of the nineteen-eighties. Guess who just mother
fucking got me with her cunt chewing PAGE ELEVEN OF ELEVEN, MIZZ
DIRTBAG DISEASEWEEDS OF THE SLEAZEFLEAS! Allow me now to mother
fucking compensate, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!
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Jane
Shit-Plants Scum-Eater, has been on a major
mother fucking roll for making me see her ugly rotten
face, digitally transposed!!!!!
But
Cousin Donald, in
this same area of the hyperspace; or where I am having
these seemingly endless recurring nightmare dreams, where
I am in that horrible fucking house, that exists in that particular
area in fifth dimensional hyperspace, somewhere off of Interstate
#95, near Grant Avenue, in Northeastern Philadelphia, Pennsylvania;
has a property, that I also visit, and seem to
be in; during many of these
'NIGHTMARES', and I
think it is some type of a fucking looney bin. It
is so goddamn fucking real, it comes right up and bites me in the
asshole. But P.H. Was telling me and reminding me, that when
Cuzz-Donald was telling me about reality-splicing, he also told me
that soon he was planning to use this powerful idea and tool, to his
advantage, through some inconceivably elaborate scheme and plot that
he had, and wouldn't share with me of course. This
was right after that goofy fucking movie that Olivia Newton John
starred in, where after some car crash had occurred, someone kept
rewinding a life-tape, and made reality-changes or EDITS. I
had absolutely no idea just how incredibly diabolical and mischievous
this plan truly was, not at the time, in the very early eighties, for
fucking cunt crissake, YO, BRO! Patty went on with some incredible
shit about how I am going to have to eventually
fucking arrive at my own conclusions and that no one else is able to
make things clear for me. Only I am able to see the clear
picture in all of this, eventually; SHE TOLD
ME! In this newly spliced reality, everyone seems to have just
slipped through as if it is all so normal and natural. You know, no
more fucking normal Presidential news conferences, non-stop rallies
and party promotion bull fucking shit. On and on. It is all as
unnatural as shitting backwards, you know, eating through our fucking
assholes and then shitting out through our goddamn mouths, Again,
I'll say it, YUK. Yet, is is a fucking lie, or is it the goddamn
truth; my kind Blogaudians????????????? No other president ever ever
ever, has endless fucking rallies since and after WINNING an
election, endlessly supporting his party candidates, so as to
strengthen his position of great power, that I promise all of you, HE
HAS ABSOLUTELY NO PLANS TO EVER ABDICATE. I promised you long ago at
the start of this fucking election shit, that he would win, and now I
promise you, WE ALL WILL BE ADDRESSING HIM SOON
AS KING TRUMP! This is what HOLLYWOOD was TOLD to pull that
fucking '45' movie. Too fucking cunt bad too, as it was a really
great fucking movie, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IPYT!!!!!!!!!
No
more of the usual shit from the wonderful and NORMAL good old mother
fucking days, huh? It's fucking just as if REALITY ITSELF is all
being 'edited away'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All fucking totally gone,
maybe a bit gradually, and sometimes it isn't really being done
through gradualism at all. Still, no one says boo, or no one even
knows how to sit up any more and say fucking boo. Patty made me
remember all of this stuff about editing-reality, along with that
really cool movie staring ONJ. HALLS FAWCES naturally, are trying to
get rid of her through illness, knowing that any of this can be used
in some small way through my MORIANITY, if she remains a living
witness, and were to discuss her great movie, today! I do not believe
that illness or earthquakes, or hurricanes, or anything, strikes
human beings by pure random chance, and I never ever mother fucking
will, just as gorgeous Mary's dad, on that fantastic television show,
'L&O' does either!!!!!!!!!!!! But who really empowers this wild
and ultra-mysterious technological tool that permits this
reality-editing-splicing bullshit? Well, maybe the ESS directly, or
just perhaps, maybe the ESS has worker fucking BEES that are not in
the ESS, but still, they get some sort of a wild payday and quid pro
quo. Just saying. P.H. did not make all of that clear in that wild
nightmare, or did she, and that was all that I was fucking able to
bring back to the waking world with me? Who can ever really fucking
know, Mister Copyrighted Breath-Echos???????????????? Just who can
ever know all of this; great 1969 Mister Sigmund Malyeska? I do know
that around a quarter past ten on Friday night, I saw another one of
NASA'S crappy missiles flying outside my window, and shortly before
that, some weird hacking on my Comcast Cable Television System
occurred, YO. That much, I DO KNOW, and to quote my kid, “I KNOW
THAT I KNOW”!!!!!! Yes sir/mahm!!!!! AHA-AHA-AHA-AND
WHAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
yes Patty, thanx for the wild 'dreams' the other night. But “still”,
to quote the great Detective Lenny L&O Brisco; REALITY-EDITING
verses TOWEL-SEEPAGE-EFFECTS of fifth dimensional hyperspace; which
is it, and when is it one or the other? I'll
hear those marvelous wild breath echoes, endlessly and
forever; huh United States Copyright Office? YES, WHO CAN EVER KNOW?
I said it really well on that old fucking cassette tape, did I not,
YO????????
END
TRANSMISSION.
