Monday, December 31, 2018






MONDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2018



4:46 ANTE' MERIDIAN



BLOG 94 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN









Saturday was relatively quiet without HALLS FAWCES fucking with me all goddamn ass day long, BUT NOT MOTHER FUCKING SUNDAY, KIND SHERIFF MASCARA, SIR. As I speak/type now at 4:48 A.M., kind sir, I am getting another major death angel attack, on my left side this time. This death angel mother fucking bullshit has been on a role beyond a role, especially over the past couple of cock sucking weeks. All cunt lapping day long SUNDAY, yesterday, and right into today, MONDAY, the WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES OF MISTER HALL have been doing their fave new harassment, continuous mother fucking VIDEO-CUT-OUTS!!!!!!!!!! Three or four of them were done last night between 6-9 P.M. And then starting again at about ten minutes shy of cock sucking 3 this moUUUUUUUUUrning, another one struck me again!!!!!!!!!!!! A new ROACH FUCKING INVASION is making me BEYOND FUCKING CRAZY, SHERIFF SIR, ALSO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The weirdo fucking nabes on my floor are in and out at all sorts of ridiculous weird hours that up in the area where I came from, would only be classified as DRUG DEALING ACTION, and nobody ever enforces any of the laws here in FORT PIERCE, NOT IN THIS BUILDING, because nobody is going to tel me that these assholes around here are not illegally high on dope, as I see them, and they are higher than mother fucking dogshit many times, and even an innocent square nerd such as me can see when people are mother fucking all fucked up on ILLEGAL DRUGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But beyond doors and roaches and even the extremely annoying video cut out shit persecution, Sheriff sir; I had a mother fucking petrifying NIGHTMARE before coming awake yesterday, and just about every time I roll out of a major fucking cock sucking terrible nightmare, the day goes to total fucking hell as well. It is as dependable as a Swiss mother fucking time piece, Sheriff, kind sir, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











Let me tell you about this horrible nightmare that I woke up out of, around four yesterday goddamn afternoon; kind and unkind Blogaudians, and Sheriff KJM sir!!!!!!!!!! It began at some really weird beach with some huge surf. Many people were out in the drink and eventually, I decided to also go for a swim, despite the conditions being very rough and nasty at my older age. All of a sudden, I was dragged out about half a mile, and then the ocean suddenly just ended, and I was washing up on a very weird grassy area that turned into lots of crazy streets and houses in a totally unrecognizable area. There was a strange sound above me and so I looked upward. I then saw an object tumbling down from a high tree branch, and it landed practically at my feet with quite a loud thud. It was a small pipe about a foot long or maybe just a tad longer, and it was heavy as hellapukeyuk and hell, Mister Spellchecker of the mighty Microsoft Corporation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As soon as I picked up this light brown colored pipe that was somewhat rusty, I observed that it was hollow and with one end of it open, and I saw something inside of it, and I went to grab it and it fell out into my hand. I was a note that said something along the lines of 'You are inside of a control-dream, and if you say the following magic words, you'll be taken to a place where you need to be”. I do not remember the words now, but I spoke them, and instantly I found myself in a very strange parallel reality where I had driven my car to a place in Pennsylvania, and David Roth was my passenger, and we stopped at some house that Dave told me to stop at, and I noticed that I was just about out of gasoline, and I also noticed that I had no money, no bank debit card, only my license and the car registration and the insurance card. But that was all that I had, and no Spellchecker, that was NOT ALL THAT I Haddonwood!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW, is this world a wild place to dream into, awake or asleep. Dave wanted me to go into a part of this house that was completely unoccupied, but had a small annex type of attachment to another larger structure. I came to learn that this larger non-Erica Lucci snakes thisssssssssssssssssssssssssssss, Mister Spellchecker; part of this place, was owned by a horrible mean nasty man who was a good friend of Dave's, but he treated me like total mother fucking shit. I found myself living there and Dave was never around and seemed to always be off somewhere, the gods only know fucking where. Then when my phone went dead, a house-phone that is, I needed to call a repair person, and so I asked this man if I could use his phone to call a repair person, and he responded with absolutely not. All sorts of horrible shit was going on all around me and just kept getting worse. When Dave would come around, I told him that I wanted to get out of there, and he would ignore me and tell me to tough it out. After several days of thisssssssssssssssssssssssssssss THIS nightmare, I finally said to him, “Thanks a lot Dave”. He then walked over to me and grabbed me and continued to slap me hard on the back over and over, and he had me in some weird hold that I was unable to break free of, try as I might. Eventually, he stopped striking me, and I found myself apologizing over and over to him, even though I had done absolutely nothing wrong, because I didn't want him to begin slapping me hard on the back again once he had stopped. I still was frozen in his grip, and then for reasons I cannot explain, I remembered those same 'magical words' that started that nightmare, and I spoke them aloud, while still in his monstrous hideous sick grip of terror. Instantly, I awoke back here, and I was fit to be tied I was so mother fucking angry. This left me in a horrendous mother fucking mood for hours and hours, and then JUST AS I BEGAN TO FEEL A TINY BIT BETTER at around half past six or so; POW, the HALLS FAWCES began their mother fucking VIDEO-CUT-OUT ASSAULT on me, as was told at the start of this blog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know you cannot help me with my nightmares Sheriff, but I will tell you something. When the medical mother fucking industry and evil scum slut State Attorney General Pam Bondi, conspired together to cut me off a medication that I had faithfully been taking under doctors orders since the age of 28 and a half years; ATIVAN or its generic equivalent called Lorazepam; these horrible nightmares which I only used to half very rarely, are almost a nightly fucking occurrence, now that I no longer can take my necessary medication. So thanks a lot, Sheriff, and thanks a lot, DAVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











MAGNESONIC: WHOEVER AND WHATEVER ENTITIES AND FORCES THAT MADE MY SUNDAY A TOTAL HELL WITH DEATH SIEGE, WIPE THEM OUT AND DESTROY THEM UNDER ALL GENERAL AND CODED GENERAL ORDERS, USING BOTH ADT AND ZDT, ON AN 'I' TO 'D', A/B TONE-PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM. G-189 AND STOP!







Since the forces and enemies want to keep persecuting me to death, kind Sheriff sir; I will tell another huge cosmically significant tale to the general fucking public! When Nicola Tesla stayed at that hotel before his death, in New York City, it was not that far from where the great Twin Towers would somewhat soon be constructed. We all know that the terrorists blew them down on nine-eleven. Using the 'divisible by three' law, that Mister Tesla totally believed in and was taught it from Lightning Herself; and remembering that his hotel room number by his own wishes, was #2733, let us divide those numbers of his hotel floor and then his room number on that floor, by the great number 3. 27 divided by 3 equals 9. 33 divided by 3 equals 11. You know as in 9-11.

There is a fucking message in everything!!!!







SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 2018



10:24 POST MERIDIAN



BLOG 93 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN







Graph of most popular countries among blog viewers







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Yes peeps, no matter what else is ever said or could be said, or believed or could be believed, many things blogged now for nearly thirteen years, all speaks for itself, and cosmically, if anything; simply cannot be ignored”. Call that my Mountainpen's Morianity Quotation or (MMQ), after nearly thirteen years of torturous mother freaking agonizing hellfire online. Anything less than that would be Mack Kaiter absurd, and far beyond the possible realms of quintessential ridiculousness!









For the past several days, doors, and in and out activity around this building, and on my floor, is very continuous and to say the least; very annoying! Oh well, that's life in poverty and public housing, and yes, apartment dwelling in general; kind people. Yes folks, my lifelong dream, is not to personally escape the extreme demonic grasp and grip of poverty, but to eliminate that scourge all over this otherwise totally great land, America. The only way Trumpie could keep his promise would be to do something that would bring the Secret Service to my wonderful apartment, should I be dumb enough to print it herein, WHAAAAAAAAAAA! I came up with a superb plan to do just this, back in the month of November, in the year of 1985. This was the same time that I had met Mister David Charles Roth, over at my job, at the #113 Caldor Department Store, on Route 45, in Woodbury Heights, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG. Maybe this is why the satanic demons of hellfire itself, struck Dave Roth and me so very hard, as after-all, it was directly following all of this, along with a tiny whittle detour through another Mister Rod Serling's Twilight Zone; called that special talk that took place in the spring time in the following year of 1986, at the Medport Diner, in Medford Lakes, New Jersey; regarding the “Great Sarah Krassle”. All of this is on my original blogging texts of the first two or three years, 2006, 2007, and 2008. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!









So let us explore the discussion that took place after this spring-time dinner outing between two gentlemen friends. Let's set the record straight first, Mister musical arranger; Tom Glenn. I am NOT A HOMOSEXUAL. MEN, AS WELL AS WOMEN; SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO HAVE SAME-SEX COMPANIONS, WITHOUT EVERYBODY WHISPERING AND BUZZING ALL AROUND, ALL SORTS OF GARBAGE THAT IS NOT TRUE! But because we do live in a whacked out society of ignorance, and to quote Mister Roth here, “the epitome of stupidity”; I am forced to elaborate, and put on the record here, that because many of my friends in adult life were males, as am I in this current lifetime, or (sequencing of off-the-purgatory dreaming interactions), as well as the fact that I never was permitted to find and marry the right woman, as do most luckier men than me whom do not suffer the affliction of being under the nightmarish mother freaking hellish reality of becoming without choice or option; the CHOSEN HUNTINGTON! So on top of an already messed up hellish situation that I have had absolutely zero control over, and through totally no fault of my own; I am thereby struck with the double-whammy of being judged by many, as a mother frickin' fagot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So back to my point now; kind and unkind Blogaudians. Dave and I were eating dinner and I had known him as a good buddy and pal for nearly half a year, and we agreed on many issues, and so, I decided to confide in him, by telling him about my second biggest secret in life, as I perceived that to be at the time and in those very wild and weird days of the middle nineteen-eighties, and the first secret being, my direct communications with the subatomic particle that you all call, THE ELECTRON, or Goddess Diana as I call HER; and hence the second secret was the GREAT SARAH KRASSLE OF ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We had finished our meal in this Medport Diner, on Route 70, AKA (Also Known As) the Marlton Pike, and where I would shortly come to reside on, in approximately five months forward, at the home owned by nightmare landlord on steroids, Mister Richard Karpf, at 1931 Marlton Pike, and my moving in on July 15, 1986, one month exactly before all hell itself broke literally into my reality and existence!! So David Roth and I got back into my car after finishing our meal at this diner, and instead of driving off of their property entirely, we moved the vehicle slightly off of Diner Property, and yet we were still on the property of a mini-mall, that was right there surrounding this diner. I began to tell him about this wild and incredible person or entity or 'whatever', to quote future Congressman Robert Andrews, who I had known as a younger person, and who had performed several vocals of my demonstration songs for me, between the years of 1975 and 1980. As soon as I began getting deeply into the issue of Sarah Krassle, with Mister Roth, out in that mini-mall parking lot; along came a Medford Lakes Police Officer, who ordered us to allow him to search our vehicle, and he had a large shotgun type of a weapon, and he had his dogTOWNITE dog as well; oh great Mister Spellchecker, sir! AHA-AHA, huh Mister 1971 Mike Church Farm School McNulty, yo? This was no quick search, and went on for about or nearly a half hour. Later that evening, I had my mother call the police station in that town, while we were still residing in Williamstown, New Jersey, at the great and illustrious, and perhaps famous by now, thanx-2-Morianity, HIGHVIEW APARTMENTS, at the Sicklerville Road, and Kent Road Intersection. All the desk sergeant was willing to say to her, was that, and I quote, “Your son and his friend happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time”. Oh well, huh GREAT ANN KING SILVA, and SILversmith Demetrius and non-Cifaloglio-Choker Darius Spellchecker? AHA-AHA-AHA again, huh Mister McNulty from 1971?????









Before this day had happened in early 1985, I had never ever discussed the great Sarah Krassle with a single soul, other than in a quick passing way for twenty seconds, to an electrician, at my security job, in Camden, New Jersey, at the Mac Andrews & Forbes Licorice Plant, on Jefferson Street; a wild and crazy dude by the name of Joe. We were talking about some crazy crap, and the subject of witchcraft had come up, and my exact words to him, that he never forgot, were, “There's a witch in Atlantic City. And yes there was, only her name wasn't Sarah Krassle in my opinion, after reexamining all of my life story now, spanning half of a goddamn century of time. Oh no people; IT WAS NIGHTMARE PAULA KING ALL ALONG, YO!!!! She had given me BOTH OF THOSE POWERHOUSE DREAMS, the one in middle December of 1969 as well as the one in early June of 1980 after moving into 1802 Robin Hill, and being there for approximately five weeks of time. But folks, then came DREAM #3, on the night of eleven July, in 1997! But B4 we examine all of this junk even closer; I now totally believe, and would swear to my beliefs in a court of law if need be, that the wonderful Medport Police, were in with the CIA/NSA/'BFA' (Black File Agency) systems in general), and my car was bugged, as were all of my cars, and all of my residences; and when 'they' or those particular authorities overheard me, starting to discuss 'HER', with this other person, in DETAIL, for the very first time; they had hoped that like most younger people, they might find illegal stuff like drugs or weapons or whatever; and then have an EXCUSE to make us both disappear; and tell the world in their police reports, that “WE RESISTED ARREST”, or some such similar “WHATEVER” story! Hey, I am entitled to my 1980 'MASHELL DANIELS' OPINIONS, and no, I AM NOT ENTITLED TO MY FACTS, nor do I claim this as a fact, SHERIFF MASCARA SIR; so please don't go hating me for printing this information to my Blogaudians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TANKS, and BOOM!!!! Somebody hates this mother freaking blog, as my gash darn mouse is being hacked from 'heredahelda', yo, folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!













So let us now dig a bit deeper into the great PAULA KING/SARAH KRASSLE/JEWELLY WHITE CHARACHTER/ESS-ENTITY!!!! Golly gash darn and gee whiz, great United States Copyright Office; somebody out here hates this whittle bwog, WHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! theansweristheqyuestion or the computer hacking that's presently taking place on the project of theansweristheqyuestion is quite major, oh mighty and wonderful Mister Microsoft Spellchecker, yo yo yo yo yo yo.










It was late at night, like about eleven thirty or so, on July the darn eleventh, in the year of 1997; and I was laying in bed, with some television program on, that wasn't particularly holding my attention; and I remember how I drifted off to sleep, and awoke around six the next morning. I went to shut off my TV-SET, and POW, not POWERHOUSE, Mister Spellchecker, just freaking “POW”, YO!!!!!!!!!!! Suddenly I remembered how I was just on Tennessee Avenue, and how theansweristheqyuestion or HOW THE MCGUIRE Pittsburgh Hotel, was suddenly the NEW JERSEY'S, ATLANTIC CITY HEADQUARTERS, FOR THE STATE POLICE, instead of it being over at the Harrah Casino area at the bay, and close to Donald Trump's CASTLE CASINO, and in all honesty, I don't remember whether it had changed names yet to Trump's Marina Casino. But I do know that McGuire's Pittsburgh Hotel and Erin Bar, were suddenly the State Police Barracks. The lovely super-girl PAULA KING, who at that time, and until quite recently; I had believed this to be SARAH KARGE, and admit that I was being totally misled, and intentionally confused, by some real experts; and so I have absolutely nothing whatsoever to apologize for; and yes, this giant dark haired goddess was just standing there with a large box of Cuban Cigars, and she was lighting them, and puffing on them; and then after a few puffs, she would flick them all the way across the street with her two fingers, onto the opposite side of Tennessee Avenue, the north side; where over in that dreaming interaction or parallel universe, there was a brick wall that was larger than the area that exists over here, where the Endicott Hotel stood, and probably still stands to this very darn day. When these cigars were flicked over by this powerful super girl goddess, the force was so incredible, that huge sparks flew all over the brick wall, almost as if lightning itself had struck the wall each time that she would do this. Now I know that the Biblical secrets of parallel universe towel seepage effect of inter-world interpretations is not limited to those chosen prophets, such as Daniel, and many others spoken of in these great and awesome scriptures. Anyone can see stuff, and how things interconnect, if they just sit down and try examining it all in better scrutiny. Ten years later, when I was given that powerful Oaklyn, New Jersey, Dellway Arms Apartments dreaming interaction, with Patty Jane the great gamer expert, and pipe repairman; who was in my apartment bedroom, and was many months before the great “Mentalist” television show ever came onto the air; this great “GAMES-EXPERT” or 'parallel-universe-Patrick Jane', was playing the famous “ROCK-PAPER-SCISSORS” game with the other assistants in the room, and this WAS ALL TOLD ABOUT BEFORE ON MY LATE-2007-BLOGGING-TEXTS and you all know it, any and all faithful and knowledgeable Blogaudians; he was using this 3-grouping game over there in that parallel world, only it was a 5-grouping game over there, and I told you all, this entire story, yo! B4 he would throw, he wouldn't say the typical three items followed by the word shoot, and with or without any coffee being served, or perpetual ways to win or lose this game, Mister cool advertisers out there! So now kind and unkind peeps, he would say; and I remember this powerful weird supernatural experience right now as I type this blog, as if it was just last freaking night that I had this thing go down, and not late in OH-7. He would say, “Rock, paper, scissors, fire, light, SHOOT”! Now tying this into the flying cigars, and the rhyming words of SARAH KARGE, with that unforgettable “AR” sound in the rhyming, kind folks; I remember hearing it over and over, back ten years earlier, while this entity who I had falsely believed to be Sarah Karge rather than the true reality of this being none other than the one and only illustrious Mizz 10-SC Avenue Owner Herself, PAULA KING; well, I can see brand new amazing powerful truths and realities, dancing out all over the damn place. It is sort of like the interaction from Pearl Harbor Day in 1996, and Mary Tyler Moore and her famous green dress episode from her ever-loved show, the Mary Tyler Moore Show. When I was on 10-SC Avenue in that powerful interaction, also with PAULA KING, and ALSO who I believed falsely at that time to be SARAH KRASSLE, rather than the very true entity's identity, the GREAT JEWELLY WHITE, and sometimes interchangeable with Mariena Carlittia Krassle, as well as Mary-Louise Carpenter of Earth Planet Nazareth-old world times; she was standing (MARY MOORE) that is, not Mary-Lou and her skies of blue, oh wonderful U.S. © Office, yo; out on a balcony of the great TRINITY-HOTEL of 10-SC AVENUE, or translated north of TRUMPS GREAT BORDER WALL of perhaps some future time, should Sir Chuckie Chumer wuss or chicken out next week or later; WHAAAAAAAAAAA; would be called “TRINIDAD”, but my pernt Mister Bunkerqueens, as well as all great and totally rotten queens and kings, and from all great locations in this land of Mister Woodie Guthrie's full directional descriptions; as well as lightning-burnt-down Jersey waterfront restaurants, whaaaaaaaaaa; yes folks, me whittle pernt, Archie Queens Bunker, and Mizz Susan 1983-snakes Lucci Erica, and all her wonderful children, is thisssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mary Moore was standing out on that hotel balcony, the very same one where Paula threatened to murder me, by way of, back in the summer time of 1967; huh Cuzz Sandy, and with or without Ralph, Ralphiels, or nasty super storms of innocently caused synchronicity-mechanics; and her boss and coworker in her great television show, having wonderful forms of synchronicity nomenclature, such as Lou Grant and Merry, but beyond all of this, and so much more; here we have the FLYING FREAKING CIGARS and without any help from the Russians, or their pals, the CUBANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now say that all of this synchronization is a mere bag of busted eggshells, and prove to the cosmos that David Roth had you in mind, back when he discussed his concepts of so many folks whom he identified as being in the club that he himself labeled, the Epitome of Stupidity Club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! When the Astral Plane Gods and Goddesses come here in what they call a GROUPATION, they come as many COINS, or we may see them physically upon rare occasions, as some type of saucer shapes. Then there are the fifty percent of the other gods and goddesses that are COILS. These we may perceive as CIGAR SHAPES flying up around and above us, upon those rare freaking occasions, yo. WOW 2 THAT, huh people? What most people on this EARTH-PLANET would also consider to be harmless and benign nocturnal activities, or even wild vivid dreams; I know fully well to be anything but!!!! Yes people, the flying sparks off of the bricks, the cigar or flying coil shapes, and then Paula Herself, coming to me in December of 1969, telling me her ASTRAL or TRUE NAME is indeed, and yes, she even spelled it for me in the dream, and how many of you have people coming to you and even spelling their name in your dreams, yes she spelled her name, and I remember it like it was mother freaking ten nights ago, not more than forty-nine years ago, “K” “R” “A” “S” “S” “L” “E”??? She told me her name was SARAH, and it had the letter “H” at the end of it, as many people named SARAH do not, spelling it merely as SARA. Why did she go to all this trouble in December of 1969, to steal my chain away from me, to spell her entire name, and then ten and a half years later when I moved into 1802 Robin Hill Apartments, come to me again, and sing her damn song to me, in that powerful dream, “LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS”; MIZZ MARY-LOUISE????????????? I know one thing, me kind folks out here. Project Bluebook ended right after SHE came to me in December of 1969, stole my motorcycle chain away from me, spelled her name, showed me her “SHOP” Misses Bassler, who you claim there was no shop; and then made the United States Air Force do that wild, beautiful, and awesome three sided, 120 degree CHEMTRAIL, yes not contrail or vapor trail or jet trail. Chemtrails are trails that don't quickly vanish away, after they are made up in the sky. This one stayed there over the skies of Western Camden County New Jersey for more than a solid hour. I also know some other stuff about all of this. Someone did not like me telling my pal Mister Roth, all about this wild entity; Mister David Childress, and Professor Michio Kaku; oh kind savant-sirs! As soon as I so much as began telling David about this, at that damn ass diner, that early evening in the spring of 1986, pow; we were set upon by the American authorities, as if we had just attempted to rob Fort mother freaking Knox, Kentucky, and shot the damn governor too!!!! And I'm really and honestly supposed to just keep forever believing that all of this stuff, and so very much more of it; is all just pure circumstantial coincidence and happenstance, huh? Well folks, I DO NOT, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So sorry, Mister 1941 Japanese Ambassador!











Yes people, the great Jewelly White appears to be extremely “decimal-sensitive”. I mean 1969 at the end, is almost 1970, and ten years later was 1980, and my moving into 1802 Robin Hill. Then there is 1997 and 2007, where first she gave me the “Sarah Karge-Cigar-RRRRRRRRR” interaction, and then ten years later comes the games-expert and the flying sparks of not only rock-paper-scissors, but also adding in “FIRE & LIGHT”! I am not saying this. Patty Jane said it, out loud, in that powerful 2007 dreaming interaction; and then along came the great television show we all know and love, “The Mentalist”, after I blogged all of this; and we all know it, and none of you out here can make this reality vanish into your land of mother freaking smoke and mirrors, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Then there was the great “DARK SHADOWS” and the 100 year deal of 1897 and 1997, with Amanda Harris, the great love of Quentin Collins life in the show. David Selby played the role. I believe I have been mind hacked temporarily out of remembering the name of that gorgeous girl who played the part of Amanda Harris, it may be Donna something, but I am being MIND-HACKED, as I usually never forget anything, especially anything pertaining to a beautiful woman. WHAAAAA! The last name of McKenzie or some similar name is coming into my mind. I know it had to be something similar, folks. Yes, in any event, this entity Julia White, appears to have a real thing going on, with the ten-decimal system. After-all, she created us with ten fingers, ten toes, supposedly; and gave us thereby as a direct result, some form or another of our decimal system of ten digit mathematics. WEEEEEEEEE THAT!!!!









Let's look at a whole lot of stuff that is going to be opened up after more foundation is laid as the blogs of 2019 all come in, and then continue along in more elucidated details, and with lots more paths of exploration, and super sleuthing around. Peeps, we can start anywhere at all, and yes, Mister Spellchecker of the great and mighty Microsoft Corporation, and other synchronizations of the initials of my older daughter Merry, nicknamed or not; we can start anywhere at 'alligators' or at all, BUTTTTTTTTTT, big ass butt folks; how about opening up with these whittle bit of non-Marcucci wisdom words? Can and does our energy or 'spirit', travel backward through the SPACE-TIME-MIND illusion, and into OUR SO-CALLED PAST BODY-BRAIN? The answer is “YES, BUTTTTTTTTT”, when so doing, it WON'T ALLOW any of our FORWARD MEMORIES to enter into our past consciousness, but it WILL ALLOW YOUR FUTURE FEELINGS to do so!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can prove this to you, kind Blogaudians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now let me go on just a tiny bit with this, and not just abruptly leave anyone here to call me an outright damn liar. I know that many hate me, and many love to try and believe the great lie that our true Earthly Father, SATAN whispers into all of your ears, that it is the Mountainpen who is the big ass liar. Well, SAHWEE, this simply ain't da' tooth, wo whittle fwolks, and big ones too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You see people, this is why all of those many unexplainable things happen to all of us, SUCH AS WITH ME FOR ONE QUICK EXAMPLE FOLKS; my crying like a baby, for absolutely no Earthly discernable rational reason, back in 1981; while on my security guard clock-rounds, at my job on the Camden, New Jersey, USA Delaware Riverfront, at the Mac Andrews & Forbes Licorice Plant, and I know fully well that I have told you all this story on more than one occasion now, on past blogging texts, back on the first few years of these BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, or the BOM. Allow me pweeeeeeeeze to refresh your memories, and you can check it out and verify it if you wish, for yourselves, yo!!!!!!!!! Mister Tom Glenn, the great local to me at those times and days, musical arranger; who I met through my connections over at the local area sound recording studio in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG, called “MAXFIELD”, and the proprietor nut job, Mister Jan Nace, who later on in the eighties, moved out to Cali and became a stock broker or so I was told; came over to my apartment one afternoon when my mother was out with her friend Mizz Katherine Flanagan, and brought along with him, his really cool electric guitar; and he did my arrangement on my song, or really, let's face it, on Paula King's song, or said still more accurately I suppose, on Jewelly White's song; “LOIS FOCA for short, or in full wordage title, “Love Is For Carpenters”. Shortly after doing this for me, Mister Glenn also left me an empty music track of just the song itself or his arrangement of it, created on his guitar. One side of the track had the higher notes, while the other side played only the lower ones for the beat and basic rhythm of the song. He sang one of the tracks and left me a blank, so that I could do whatever I wanted with that track, and later on within a week or less, I sang the same song on it; and did an overdub, so it sounded like more of my vocals were done. My open-reel RS-1500-US tape recorder had the ability to endlessly make new tracks on top of already existing older ones. This was the machine that I purchased by mail order, after moving into the apartment, from a dealer in New York City called the Martin Audio Video. This was 17 years before I had ever truly known of the significance of the name MARTIN, as in Martin-o, or Martin-ez. I did know the story of my father's side of my family, well, not the whole story, Microsoft Corporation, not the whole damn story. WEEEEEEEEE!!!! But back to my point here. Why did I cry for absolutely no logical or rational reason, when I would sit down on those MAFCO-stairs during my rounds? I had about three minutes to kill, and no one was ever around or hardly ever, late at night; at that particular area of my rounds. So I'd sit there to rest my feet from that long walk around the plant, where I would be hitting fifty security keys on a security clock, that would prove to the insurance companies, that a guard indeed was inspecting certain areas along a route, checking for all sorts of potential dangers or hazards; and with or without my coworker from the following year in 1982, Mister Pete Smith, and his pal Robert Hazard. Interesting whittle coinkeedink still, don'tchya think, folks? You see folks, I am just like Mister Redfield, and I totally believe that every single thing all the time and everywhere, is a message. This of course makes me 'insane' to many folks. Fine, we both will accept our roles in this ignorant ass society, I suppose! So there I was in early 1981, with my own version of LOIS FOCA, as I preferred my singing over that of Mister Glenn, who never thought of himself as a vocalist, so I guess if he is reading this, he won't take too much offense at my words, whaaaaaaaaaa!!!! Mortimer Mortino is annoying the hellapukeyuk and the Spellchecker-hell out of me, with his continuous buzzing in my freaking ears. It is one attack after another, the most recent one now on my freaking right side, at 1:52 A.M. But back to my point about spirit being able to visit our past-selves, and leaving imprints of future times, but in emotions-only; not in consciousness-memory!!!!!!!!!! So I would sit there on those steps at the MAFCO-BUILDING, and begin to hear the tape, as I made cassette tapes for listening in my vehicle, on the trips back and forth, to and from work and home. I would hear the song in my mind, and suddenly, I would just burst out crying, just as if I had lost five loved ones in an airplane freaking crash. You see, THIS WAS my future self, and its full awareness to all of the stuff that pertains to that incredible song. If you have any better freaking explanation anyone of you out here, for this incredible stuff; hey yo, BRING IT!!!!











Let me open up another topic, and lay in a quick whittle bit of a foundation for you on this blog, that can be later explored in lots more detail, along with many other mathematically related subjects and topics, and all of the 2019 stuff that I definitely plan to delve much deeper into with my wonderful and amazing Blogaudians!!!!











The great Nicola Tesla was highly underrated, and he knew the great Lightning Goddess Diana Zuudlecronessia Arteemis as well, only he, just as me before the age of 28 and a half years, was not aware of this on any conscious mind level. He was told BY HER, that the magic numbers of 3 and 27 were very real, just as she told me in powerful Astral Plane interactions. When he was found dead in his hotel room in NYC, at the age of 86 years, as in the year of 1986 for those like me, who just cannot resist inserting stuff, pertaining to the Redfield-Synchronicity-Syndrome, or the RSS for short; he was staying, by his own orders, in room #2733. Nothing that he did was outside the box of what he called and lived by all of his life, the “Divisible by 3 Law”. Both 27 and 33 are divisible by the number 3. The Privecode machine, when it was all connected up just the way that LIGHTNING wanted it to be, after I left 1802 Robin Hill, and moved into the rental home in Atco, at 134 Norris Avenue; was created by the International Mobile Machines inventors, later to be renamed as the Inter-digital Corporation; to respond to three digit codes, and the greatest one that lightning would set off so many times, was #1-2-3. Now Mister Tesla before his death, and this is a documented fact; said that he was told by “outer-fawces” that he thought were Martians because Diana never told him her true identity while he dreamed here as Mister Tesla, but he WAS TOLD, that 1-2-3 was magical, and he was told that HER NUMBER was 27, just as SHE TOLD ME, in that powerful 1984 dreaming interaction, where she came to me at the Golden Nugget Hotel & Casino, of Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; and she came right through the ceiling of the gaming house, from the outer skies, and struck dead center on the number '27' on the Roulette-Layout, and she told me plain as day and loud and clear, “Little boy, that's my number, number 27, I am your lightning, and you are my little boy”. I still did not know at that time, that she was such a powerful and gigantic coil of pure energy, back in the Purgatory; as that followed a month or two later on, when my mother awoke me from a powerful dream where I was with this huge lovely colorful coil, and she was telling me that I would never ever escape and that she is mine and I am hers. When my mom woke me up from a nap I was taking on one of the two sofas in the living room of the apartment, number 506 Robin Hill, where I moved after leaving the Atco rental home that was owned by Mister Gerald Pliner, she said to me, “Mark, wake up, lightning is outside”. I awoke, and the first thing out of my mouth was, “Mom, I was with lightning, we were just together”. In that incredible dreaming experience, she was right there with me, and she was a 33 foot tall coil, filled with pure colorful energy, vibrating with the most inconceivable and unfathomable sounds that I had ever heard in my humanness. I knew that any time that she wanted to, she could instantaneously become by beautiful tall blond, or as I have always called her back in the Plank-Time, or Purgatory, my “BABY-BLOND”!!!!











The great Masonic Lodge people have always known, instinctively perhaps; the true and awesome power of the number '33'. Whether Lightning has ever shared the other number and its incredible significance with them, I cannot fully know. Lads and lassies, I do believe wholeheartedly now, that they sent David Roth to me, and that he was sort of watching and reporting back to them. When he gave me that powerful family lineage chart, showing how the Huntington Family traces all the way back for nearly 5,000 years into all of the incredible biblical history and so much more, I think that he was murdered covertly, for doing that; and I doubt now that he ever had their permission to make a copy of that, and allow it into my possession. They are an extremely secretive society, but I do wish they would understand just how much I truly, as a Huntington; want to eliminate and eradicate the awful scourge and miseries of poverty, all across the United States of America. It has been my goal to do this ever since I turned age thirty years, and met David Roth at the Caldor Store. I know first hand just how miserable poverty truly is, and that no good can come from large portions of any nation to be in that condition. It will absolutely drag any and all great super power nations into the ground and into destruction, whether they know this or not, or whether they choose to believe it or not. I had a great plan and still do. If I am ever allowed to do some of these things, crime and covertly in America will be all but eliminated someday, forever. But I am hated, and or ignored, and put through endless hell, and never allowed the opportunity to express my various talents and gifts. To accomplish this extremely laudable and enterprising goal, I would need to amass ten trillion dollars, and it can theoretically be done. Nothing is impossible. I have seen more than enough in life's experience to know that this is absolutely the truth. Well, enough for this blog, kind Blogaudians. I have more than most likely bored you all to total tears, and even without any LOIS-FOCA tapes to be listened to. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!







END TRANSMISSION.







FRIDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2018



3:11 ANTE' MERIDIAN



BLOG 92 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN







Graph of most popular countries among blog viewers







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This is a truly evil demonic attack, to use old world freaking verbiage here, kind folks and people, and Blogaudians in general. The mother fuckers have struck me again around a quarter shy of three on this cunt eating Friday moUUUUUUUUUrning!!!!!!!!!!!! I am literally mother fucking living on large doses of cunt lapping Metamucil Powder. Where are you, Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara, sir????









Notice my parallel event bullshit is right on target, kind Sheriff KJM, sir. The past two days, I have been major mother fucking assaulted by this WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCE AND HALLS FAWCES IN GENERAL, and the stock market has been soaring as a result, just as I have been discussing on my MORIANITY BLOGS FOR THIRTEEN MOTHER FUCKING YEARS NOW, KIND SIR, YO YO YO YO YO YO!









Yes sir folks, and yes mahm too; if I ever had a large sum of money, I would create my own hospital, OUTSIDE OF THIS EVIL EMPIRE AMERICA, where things would work for the good of the patient, and not some governing body and or some mother fucking crooked medical system!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The fucking psych clinic was hell yesterday, and yes oh wonderful spellchecker, Hellapukeyuk, too, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am going to try and somehow work myself off of my anti-anxiety medication, so I won't have to put up with this horrible mother fucking bullshit treatment any longer. They turned it all around, making this entire fucking recent medical disaster that I have been blogging about for two weeks or so now, and claim it is basically all my own fault, as always, it is me who is always the bad guy and me who is always doing it all mother fucking wrong. This medical community shit in this totally messed up mother fucking country SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, SUCKS, AND SUCKS!!! I want other countries of this planet to know that American medicine has become a horrendous mother fucking nightmare, and has absolutely zero interest any longer in trying to make the patient happy or well. We're not listened to, and not trusted, and this to me is total character ASSASSINATION that makes a person who already is in a totally mother fucking vulnerable position, feel about ten inches cunt lapping tall! Why anyone wishes to come to this awful fucking cunt country, is beyond me. If the fucking south American folks knew the shit that I was going through here as a totally mother fucking legal citizen, they would have no desire to cross the border. Hey Cousin Trumpie, yo, all you need to do is let them all know about the Mountainpen and his goddamn mother fucking blogs, yo. You won't need the fucking cunt eating five billion bucks for your god-ass stupid mother fucking wall, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!! Problem solved, yo!!!!!!!!

Still peeps, don't let me even try and fool a damn soul. I blame a lot of fucking shit on my rotten worthless daughter, because she knows my medical shit is very real, and she also knows, and I know that she does; that only she could vindicate me, and she would rather keep the big closet syndrome going, and let me suffer for endless time, and eventually die. Now nobody said that anyone owes anyone a thing, because they don't. Still, my conscience would fucking bug the hell out of me if I were her, knowing what she obviously does about all of this shit, ever since she was goddamn thirteen fucking years old now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











No people, when a patient walks out of a medical establishment, that charges tons of fucking money, such as a hundred bucks for the usage of a box of goddamn nose blow tissue, under some absurd fancy ass name in every hospital across this evil empire, and on that very same token, makes a large percentage of us feel worse rather than better, mentally as well as physically; well to quote the late and grate wonderful dynamite darling of disco, from the year 1981, Mizz Donna Adrian Gaines Summer, “SOMETHING'S WRONG SOMEWHERE”!!!!!!! I mean I walked out of that mother fucking worthless Treasure Coast Community Health Clinic yesterday, feeling like I wish I could look over and see the entire place just get hit by a tiny nuclear bomb, and be blown to fucking cunt eating total Hellapukeyuk and HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Something is wrong when I have to pay big bucks, or the insurance does, same difference, to just be treated like total mother fucking garbage, and never helped one bit, and made to feel like a fucking criminal when you ARE NOT A CRIMINAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You can have this evil goddamn place, Sheriff, and everybody goddamn else!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!









If only this was the purgatory. Jesus fucking Christ Almighty, yo. At least I could switch all around,and become Franklin or the Native American Miquon Squaw, or Demetrius the Silversmith, and then Mark Mohr, and so forth, any time I wish to switch it up. In the great Purg folks, I can switch my energy and become Ricktofarious living with my Lightning Goddess at Ricktown Manor, and then pow, I can switch over to becoming Zeranniss Yancy with a city name and a city pass, residing in HEAVEN or (Sahasra Dal Kanwal) the great capitol city of the entire purg, and then many other parts of me, and poof, just like that with a single quick flashing fucking thought!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This shit out here in this blown out fucking hyperspace, totally fucking sucks my cock licking prick at light velocity squared!!!!!!!!!!











Notice a very fucking strange and beyond weird event that occurred when I posted up my previous blog (#91), yesterday. The dude told me to randomly select (4) items from four blogs. But the one at the end seemed to copy (4) times. Now what weird fucking artificial intelligence is built into my Open-Office-Program? Or is it some gigantic hack from some transdimensional parallel plane in the virtually limitless hypERCHRIST or hyperspace, Mister SPELLchecker????!!!!!! Hey for that fucking matter kind folks, we can ask ourselves a totally brand new question, as well as slowly work our way down the elusive and outlandish road of new mysteries that surround what Morianity calls and labels, (P4E) or Phase-4-Entities??? I mean really, just HOW DO WE HUMANS EVER REALLY KNOW when these P4E beings are attempting to instruct us about something, and usually something prophetic? Bibles love prophecies! The Judaic Christian Bible and the great KJ-VERSION of it, is totally filled to the brim with such things. I mean Star Trek predicted an energy being such as DIANA choking people, on that episode with the COMPANION and Zephran Cochran the inventor of the warp drive being discovered alive on that weird little asteroid planetoid. Law and Order has so many it is pointless to attempt tolist them all. We have the Mayor from New Jersey and the metals, we have the Trade Center before the real disaster, as th eone referred to on several before 9-11 episodes is referring only to the parking garage bombs that went off, but later on, the entire fucking dual towers were knocked to the fucking ground. Then we have the great somewhat silly show, Babylon-5. The episode of CHOKE DAY in daughter song year, or June 4, 1997; is literally all about predicting the entire TRUMP ADMINISTRATION, and all the surrounding crap around it. Taking that in lieu with the 1979 song that is not being played while having myself a tall one at the bar, but still Lenny, “By the Rivers of Babylon”, I mean hey Tom Glenn and Patty Hollister, I ain't a fagot, so for crissake yo, why don't you give me a mother fucking brake here? What is a PHASE-4-ENTITY (P4E)? Well, this is a purgatite or (Purgatory-Resident) who attempts to dream out into hyperspace in ways that violate what morianity labels and calls, “LAWTRONICS”, or simply put, born here but in ways that violate too much of the natural laws. So Superman and Spiderman and all possible characters like these, really do exist, even the M&M's Santa Claus! So when they attempt to come here with us, the LAWTRONICS breaks the connection before they can come here and break the natural laws, and so they then become the mere fantasies and imaginings of fiction writers. These P-4-E are very real, and they exist Astrally. But can they eventually start to effect their handlers/writers, in ways that cause them to shine in new ways, such as prophets? Well, you tell me. It sure seems this way to mother fucking whittle old me, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So WEEEEEEEEE!!!!

















Whether or not the only reasons and objectives of P4E to do this however, is so as to become invisible prophets, and assuming this is indeed a true reality; then how can we as humanity, begin learning from this, or in other words, without being able to sift through what truly is a prophecy, then we would just think that all fiction works are real in some way or going to happen, and this is obviously not the case. As with all things, normally the most logical answers to these bizarre mysteries are the shortest distance lines between two points, and these points being here, the question and the answer. 2+2 and 4 is the same truth in other words, but one may not see this because 4 can be the result of 3+1 or even 2.83 and 1.17. It is almost like looking at the phenomenon of hyperspace towel seepage effects. The more intense and powerful that any event is in our human lives, the stronger its print-through effects are going to also be in all localized areas of the hyperspace. No, not alligators or hypERCHRIST's, Mister Spellchecker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No kind folks and unkind ones too; we don't 'dream' over and over, about our roughly 30-70 percent of our mostly boring days and times. But get married, get into a plane or boat or car crash, win a couple hundred million smacks on a Powerball Lottery ticket, lose a parent or child, or some dear to the heart loved one, and pow; towel seepage effects go straight into hyper-drive. You all know that Morianity is telling powerful truths, and many just don't like facing up to these truths and I am powerless to do anything about that; me kind fiends and friends out here!!!!











Hyperspace effects us in any single 3-D life we are living in, because we and our so-called ordinary waking life reality, in absolute truth, IS 5TH DIMENSIONAL!!!!!!!!! There is no getting around the simple logic here. If we can awaken out of sleep and have our moods seriously effected by powerful yet forgotten dreaming interactions from other worlds of the transdimensional multiverse; how can we believe for a single lousy ass second, that we are truly 3-D entities? Maybe we live PHYSICALLY in 3-D. I never ever disputed that fact for a damn minute, people. But our existence here in waking life is truly in 5-D. In theory, if we wake up mad at the world because, remembered or not remembered, we just experienced being in a terrible fight, and being beaten up real badly; and as a result, we go out to our job, where on the night before, we already were ticked off at our boss for something that he or she did to us; and then we say some curse word, or do something else totally inappropriate, and get fired as a result; then how can anyone say that life is not fully five dimensional? We can play all sorts of little box-lab games here, as well as make up zillions of stupid stories; but my point is made, and I know it. I don't need the ADA Mister Wirtz Senior up there in Camden County to tell me that, either!!!! So

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!











Nothing ever changes for poor old fucking Mister mountainpen. NOTHING! Still, why did Tom Glenn totally think that I was a fucking fagot because I wrote a song at age fourteen with the hope of having my lovely Patty sing it for me with her lovely operatic voice. She sounds just like that car ad on TV where the car owner hits that enhancement button on his car system, and that gorgeous opera vocalist really comes out in all her glory. I swear it is just like these P4E know every single electron dance inside my brain.



SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0253

SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY

START OF FREAKING BLOG:







Another heavy day of WOMO SIEGE is upon me, as well as the normal Florida 2011 INVISIBILITY/HOSTILITY AREA HOLOGRAM ATTACK!!!!!



CHEMTRAILS are quite bad, ALL THOUGH I HAVE SEEN WORSE, AND THEY ARE MAKING ME GET SICKER AND SICKER, BUT THEN, OTHER PEEPS ARE ALL COUGHING ALL AROUND ME AS WELL, SO IT IS NOT JUST MY 'DNA' THAT THEY EFFECT, YO.



I CAN PROMISE THE WORLD, AS I HAVE MADE ALL MY PROMISES; THAT THE DOW JONES STOCK MARKET must now be flying way over 12K points, and I all ready know my Phils were ruined and wrecked, MISTER WOLF-74!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just watch, this attack that wiped out or tried to, my getting my needed meds to physically survive, sorry turkey knives and cuzz's, this has gone on as long as it will, WITHOUT DIRE AND MAJOR MOTHER FREAKING BUTT WIPE CONSEQUENCES, DOGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will tell huge secrets as soon as I come back, right now, this needs to post just shy of freaking four PM-EDST, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



END TRANNY, GRANNY.









Yes sir, Mister J. P. R., this was chosen at random, as I told you I do this from time to time. My machine was somehow taken over by some one or something, Captain Kirk and ROCK the Android. WOW would he make a great vocal track on anybody's techno music, Mister Tony Bonjovi, and Engineer Ryan, yo!

NOTHING EVER CHANGES FOR THE MOUNTAINPEN, NO HOW, NO NOTHING, MIZZ ROSS, YO, SO AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!











MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM



Computer, hear my MVP (Mind-Voice-Print). You will be totally absolutely crushing, obliterating, annihilating, and devastating, wrecking, ruining, and utterly wiping out, all of my enemies, and all those powers and forces and people responsible for this two day siege siege of 26 and 27 December of 2018; on a crush-destruct order, under GENERAL-ORDER-189, max.-power. Open-Command, General Order #7. Use G-901, G-1133, G-14, G-719, G-13, CG5555-QP17 sub-code, under G-917, CG-2, under CG-18, and HOLD.







Your old AT&T landline telephone old style 1983 built tone-commands have been data-transferred into the two highlighted long-EEEEE vowel sounds. The high-tone is colored RED. The low-tone is colored BLUE.



Computer (Magnesonic) under my command and precisely matching voice print, I have an image-object (I-O) now placed on your transpower-block (T-B) after I have crush-destructed this. Once empowered, all actual beings matching this I-O on your T-B will be exactly crushed and singed and destroyed as the original I-O. To accomplish the scan, use your ZD technology built into your system. To accomplish this sympathetic reality duplication, use your AD technology, (ZD-Zero-Dimensional), (AD-Atomic Duplicational).



Computer, MAGNESONIC, on an 'I' to 'D', A/B—TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, you will now be transmitted the two empowerization-transmit tones, or ETT'S.







EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE





EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE





GO TO G-189, under G-1133, CG-18, AND S---T---O---P









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Boy oh boy oh Uncle Billy Wonderful life BOY”; am I UNDER A MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING TOTAL ASS DEATH SIEGE, AND THIS IS TWO STRAIGHT CUNT HUFFING DAYS OF THIS NOW SIR, AND KIND SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA, YO YO YO YO!!!!

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WOW is this pathetic chosen HUNTINGTON under the big ass guns with death sky assaults, chemtrailing, poisonous vapors bringing me death bowel assaults and diareah, kind sir, and TOTALLY VIOLATING MY CIVIL RIGHTS, MY HUMAN RIGHTS, AND NOT TO MENTION MY HUNTINGTON CONSTITUTIONAL MOTHER FUCKING RIGHTS, SHERIFF SIR, YO YO YO YO!!!!







Well, there is a whole lot to mother fucking tell, folks, and since the enemies and the HALLS FAWCES who control them; are so mother fucking hellbent, on wiping out a pathetic, and totally innocent United States citizen, who's done absolutely nothing ever to anyone; unlike what they all have done to me, for about five straight cunt chewing goddamn decades; I will now tell some things that put quite frankly and totally politely; WILL CROSS OVER SOME HUGE MOTHER FUCKING RED LINES, YO YO YO YO!













First off, I ran into a vely vely intelesting non Bob McDowell from Cooley Hall high Hell character, and maybe this dude was put in my path by them, or by those on my side of this great cosmic altercation, and as always,who can ever really know such things as these save the angels themselves, and their creators, which is a wild tale that would so much interest and fascinate dudes such as the great and wonderful two somewhat famous now television educators, those being, NYU's Professor Michio Kaku and Mister great author, David Childress!!!!

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This dude works in a private capacity, and not in any way for the County of Saint Lucie, Florida, USA; and he is part of a group who runs errands such as small food deliveries to the poor and needy folks, around the holiday season, and other such philanthropic duties. His pal knocked on my door twice now with a box of foods, ranging from canned veggies with far off expiry dates, nice turkey-stuffing boxes, pinto beans, marshmallow bags, and so forth. Today, his manager was in the common area, talking to one of the tenants, while I was checking the mail that I only go and check about once in five days or so; and we talked for a moment after he had said good-buy to whom he was speaking with, and we sat down at one of the tables, and I only had two minutes, as I was going to my psych clinic, the Treasure Coast Behavior Health Clinic of Vero Beach, Florida, on US-Highway-1. But it was indeed long enough to let him know a few interesting things, since he said something mind blowing to me first, that literally opened up the door for my then saying what I spoke to him. It seems that he, along with a friend of his; both know a man who lives in the next county over from me to the south, Martin County; and this man gets a tone on his machine every time I post up a blog at Google-Blogger; and he goes up and prints it up. Then at meetings in his club, my blogs are topics of conversation. This is a place similar to a lodge that my late pal Mister Roth used to be a member of so many of, and this lodge is very secret, as are Dave Roth's Masonic Lodge; only this place is even more into things that pertain to the supernatural and the ET-situation. They only stumbled onto me about two months ago,but have now printed my older blogs back as far as about early 2014, and they are still working on getting all of them printed, all the way back to Morianity's beginning in early January somewhere, in the year of 2006, while I was residing at Jenny Plageman's trailer Park, the Mullica Manor, in Mullica Township, New Jersey, just east along Route-30, from world famous BERRYVILLE, also known as (AKA) Hammonton. On top of this incredible stuff, me peeps, and other wonderful great blogaudians out here, YO; he personally is, as am I, a major fan of the great New-Age-Author, Mister James Redfield, and the other two giants IMHO, Doctor Bruce Goldberg, as well as Carlos Castaneda. As most Blogaudians know only too darn well, James Redfield is in total agreement with Morianity's concept that synchronization allows otherwise hidden stories to be told and realized throughout cosmos. Hidden by the way is merely another word that means 'occult'. Ask any really knowledgeable English Major from a great Ivy League University, and they will most definitely corroborate this powerful yet fully accurate information, me folks, and IPYT!





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I will tell you more about this fellow in greater elucidation, but not today on this blog. Still, he said that the group wants me to do something that pertains to many things that Morianity discusses on blogs. He said to go to four random blogs from anywhere in the past, and scroll randomly down the Open-Office pages of them, and stop at random as well, and without even looking at anything, paste in two paragraphs and just keep going, from one blog to the next, four times, and do not post up photos or diagrams or anything pictorial or non-text material. Well, you want it, you've GOT IT!



























In the middle of October, twelve years ago, Sheriff Mascara sir; my friend Ed and I, went to a library in Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey, one afternoon. I posted up a blog from a computer there, saying that he and I were coming down now, to Tennessee Avenue. This was the day where that crime was committed on me by Robert McGuire, kind Sheriff. Why is he allowed to destroy numerous automobiles that I drive? Why is Paula allowed to RAPE ME, TORTURE ME, TRY TO RUN ME DOWN IN STORE PARKING LOTS, and make my life an endless living hell, coming to me in nightmares and dreams, singing her stupid garbage song to me???????????????????? WHY? If I did these things, you would put me into prison for the rest of my life, Sheriff, AND YOU SHOULD!!!!







It began with unbloggable shit. I will tell you that a huge ZEST SOAP BAR was handed to me by the owner of Haddonwood Health Club or the dude who was there in early AUGUST of 1996 right before it closed mysteriously down on a dime without any reason. After grabbing it, Mickey the lifeguard who I only know from this one particular universe out there in hyperspace; shouted to me, “Hay King David, wash up you fat slob”! Then as I stared at him, he charged over to me, and pushed me into the pool. As I fell in, I realized I was in the deep end part of it, and that no water was in it. I hit the bottom very hard and heard my head crack completely open. I then got up and climbed out and everyone was screaming and pointing at me, saying, “Look, he's a zombie, he can't fucking die”. Then my old Maryland camp counselor, NON RED-X MACK KAITER grabbed me, shook me hard and chanted loud prayers at me, and then he threw me in the pool, and this time, it had a normal amount of water in it. I then found myself scrubbing up with this huge triple normal full sized soap bar, and it was a ZEST bar, and I will not forget this wild shit in seventeen million mother fucking years, I promise! When I have a wild NIGHT, I just about always have a wild DAY that follows. You might say that the parallel fuckign cunt event for this to happen, is around 99%. WHAAAAAA!!!!!!





At mother fucking 20 past ten this Monday morning, out she went while switching from a Music Channel to The Weather Channel. POOF, out it went and when I tried to call Comcast Cable Company, it won't go through to fucking shit. Some shit about circuits being busy and the first time the recorded messages came on saying that I did not dial correctly, so which one was it, NSA-TRUMP mother fucking dirt hole shit licker???











I know that you tried to come to me yesterday, Lightning, my endless love. Our love is like a flower, baby-blond; it only can grow!!!

















Here are the two recent YOUTUBE VIDEO LINKS, CLICK AND ENJOY IF YOU WANT, AND LOG OFF IF YOU DON'T WANT, SAWN YOU, FOLKS, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!






Governor Jesse Ventura talks about time travel, in ways that totally connect up with stuff from my own personal life; including the chance that his own distant relative, Salvador, was sent to me in 1965, to show me, and not Miss Wescott; how to tap my fingers in really cool ways, so that 'lightning' will respond to this, up in 1983; on a telephone receiver.






YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983



NEW 2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC



TRACK ALONG WITH: Only the opening title words are real.



To sing along with the new 2012 lyrics, go to my blog and click the SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, and scroll down until the page comes up with the words to the song, YO.



Here are some other very interesting video links to Youtube postings, for those interested in my story, as most of these will connect what Morianity is all about, in one way or another. Hay, if you're not interested, that is your business!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



HAVE A VERY NICE DAY, PEOPLE.





Before you have that real nice day, the submarine dreams at Highview were all coming when I was going to the Haddonwood Swim Club, and they were all over the near shoreline of Long Beach Island, not far north of Atlantic City and Brigantine, in New jersey. But there was more to those dreams, and it involved stuff way up here in this new present time, and only recently have I been able to see the connection and correlation between these events. More will be told later on this topic, as it is a real good time now to say the word, and so I will, like, *****W---O---W*****!!!!!!!!!



Recently, I have picked up a new enemy jerk off on a motorcycle who tears by the building and intentionally guns is bike illegally, just to annoy and persecute me, it happens right at my point of hearing it the worst, and I am planning to install a video system, a simple web-cam to allow me to keep a continuous surveillance of the street outside, and then take the prints into the police for a close up zoom of the license plate, and demand that I want to file a complaint against this WOMO ENEMY. His registration has to have a real human name, and it won't be WOMO, unless by sheer coincidence, it is James Q. Womo, and I doubt that will be the case. By the way, the nabes did some door banging and loud talking out in the hall, and a little bit of their subwoofer noise earlier today, as now it is ten minutes before seven on this Thursday evening as I type on. Still, they were toned down from their usual real loud annoying and uncouth partying norms. Hellapukeyuk praise the SAR. In ancient Aramaic lingo, SAR means LORD, and ESS means ah. This is why the name of Goddess is equal to the name of Sarah, in Christianity of olden times of biblical antiquity and even into BCE dates.



When I was on Tennessee Avenue in the winter of 1997, I met Robert McGuire for the first time, in my adult life. I know that I encountered him at least once as a youth as well, and this is topic for later blogs. Still, about just less than ten years later in the autumn of 2006, while with Edward Lynch, AKA Ed Himacane, on my blogs; this man did something that was right along the same lines of what he somehow did to me when we met in 1997 when I went down to ask some questions about the great Sarah Krassle. AS I SPEAK, A NASTY LEFT SIDE DEATH ANGEL IS STRIKING ME AT TWO MINUTES PAST SEVEN THIS EVENING, 12/20/12. I have had since just the first day of summer, within a three percent tolerance of this figure, about 985 of these attacks now, pretty much averaged with left verses right sides, with a slight gain on the left side, reported just in case this bears out to have some weird significance, shortly, or far into the future; so it is now being recorded onto the blog legally, and permanently; and this will not be a part that is edited. Let us keep moving on with the topic of worm holes, Tennessee Avenue, the Ancient Astronaut Theory Club, SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, New Jersey, and great family overseer and director, MISTER Robert Nonwaterhosedreams McGuire.



























Well, this may be interesting. I will have to read it back. Still, they asked me to randomly pick four old blogs, and at random places in those blogs. I was as random as cosmos permits, BUTTTTTTT, big ass But, kind folks; just as I said all the time back in 2006 and 2007 on so many of my older blogs when all of Morianity was new and starting, yo; all of random is really just a disguised pattern. This indeed is exactly WHY coincidences and synchronicity is what it is and does what it does. In higher truth where mind or brain is truly SPIRIT or where M=E (mass is energy), tiny subatomic mathematical numerations all come together in one gargantuan and unfathomable program of reality/truth. So verily (truthfully) I say onto all of you, and yes, a quote from my extremely great in more ways that one Uncle Jesus; know these truths, and you will KNOW. Still, I will always suffer under the great and awful mother fucking HUNTINGTON CURSE. Cuzz Donald used to call it the Mason Curse, but this went far beyond the Mason Line of the lineage of this beyond great and awesome Huntington family, yo; and IPYT!!!!!!!!!!!!









Now to crossover a few RED LINES, and yes Dave Roth, to shoot all around, in that pitch black shooting gallery of numerous potential enemies, and fawces; of the great Mister HALLucinogenic HALL, no Mister Spellchecker, not HALLUCINOGENIC, but that brings me straight to something that I was just going to do a RED-LINE-CROSSOVER, and FURTHER FREAKING PROVING the great James Redfield, as well as Morianity, in our concepts! Sir Mortimer Mortino, the elusive and ever fucking annoying death angel, has been buzzing all around me for a very long time now; and this year of 2018 has been about the mother fucking worst of them all. Right now at 4:31 this horrendous fucking ass afternoon or disafsternoon may be a more appropriate word for me to insert herein, yo; I am getting a nasty fucking right side attack!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.



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theansweristheqyuestion, wow is Spellchecker alive and well, and living on Hal Lindsey's Earth Planet, whether this is the year 1976 or naut, mizz AT&T Blake, like WO and like WOW, all Joann's and all Joanna's. I just wanted to type The, and instead, I decided to hit my ENTER-KEY, oh mighty disappearing demon entity named DISDEE, or perhaps her close cousin from NASA, that started all of this monstrous rotten computerized world we no must endure!!!!! Yes folks, the gods of the ASTRAL PLANE do not come from distant points in this universe. They come through the VOID-FIELDS, that Mister Einstein called, “BLACK-HOLES”. These gods can come through as singular entities or in what they call groupation or (multiple form) as we mortals might think of this as. Groupation is merely a grouping of these extremely powerful entities, powerful in that they have an abundance of pure energy, or said better, THEY ARE an abundance of pure energy. We may see them when they are coils as the cigar shaped flying sky phenomenon, and if they are coins, then we see them more in saucer forms. Still, they are not aliens from distant places in our universe. It takes one entire universe to make an EARTH-PLANET. An EARTH-PLANET means a place where conditions eventually produce sentient life beings or forms, on a world perfectly capable and designed to sustain the housing of these formations (bodies). Now we all hear in this new age of machines, and machine eventual take over, after artificial intelligence and robotics, eventually replace our present species of sentient life; how we through this process will then go onto adapt so as to survive on other worlds (planets or moons) as well as even in the near vacuum and void of space itself (the vast area that is all in-between the planets and stars and moons and all the rest of it). All of this Earth Planet existence is NOT an experiment, and it is NOT a neutral point of anything where the gods/angels/demons/whatever?, use and or interact with us in any meaningful way. The entire thing as well as the entire reason that all of this is here, is AN ASTRAL PLANE GAME OF THESE GODS, and the reason and motivation for these games is one and only one, and it is powerful and awesome beyond anything that human mortals have any tiny clue about. It is to help them forget that they EXIST INSIDE OF ENDLESSNESS. Time is only something that can be created for giving THEM what many of THEM consider to be VACATIONS from that hellishness. Time is not, nor was it ever, a real item that exists, but rather, it is WE who simply exist, NOT TIME, hence, nothing ever began nor will it ever end, because it simply CANNOT! So to distract away from the total unfathomable hell of that awareness; these Astral Plane or (Purgatory) entities, play their game of DISTRACTION, and temporarily remove their awareness of and to this horrific nightmare on mega-steroids. You as human beings however, won't ever see it in reverse, because as humans within a time-dimension, you fear and naturally so, the idea of extinction and termination of self. Your biggest fear is in truth, your greatest hope, and that hope can never ever be realized. We exist, time is an illusion, and NONE OF US CAN EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER REST IN PEACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!






There are many forbidden mother fucking powerful knowledge-bites out here that I can spill all over the world, to really get shit nice and messy and sloppy! Sheriff Mascara sir, I know these things because I AM. I EXIST. When you absolutely know that you exist and that time is pure illusion, you would be surprised at what you can do, and what FAWCES of mister Hall choose to communicate with you, from birds and fish, to stars and electrons, and GODS from the Plank-Time (purgatory). I make none of these things up. This entire blog is truth, major mother fucking powerful truth, and verily and truly I tell you that right now, yo!

THIS TRAnsdimensional TRANSMISSION NOW ENDS!



'DIRTBAG TRUMP SEEMS TO BE IMMUNE TO MY MAGNETIC SOUND MACHINE'







SUNDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2018

2:08 ANTE' MERIDIAN, EARLY MORNING















Yes folks, the great Mister jerk off current president and galaxy class egomaniac and monster, is indeed, and always has been, fully and completely immune from the negative effects of my counterstriking MAGNESONIC SUPER MACHINE, from 1983. It effects many of my enemies and has wiped a lot of better and stronger people than me, right off of this fucking cunt Earth Planet, but not him. No sir me brother, not fucking him! As soon as I posted up my previous blog, I have fallen under a super death assault. SHERIFF MASCARA SIR, this truly and absolutely is a major hyper ultra:



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I posted up my prior blog, and kaboom, I have been struck hard with literally a fucking cunt eating dozen assaults now. As I started this blog several minutes ago, a nasty loud ass fucking fire alarm is going off in the building, and these alarms are back now to happening two and three times daily, kind SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA, SIR!!!!!











I was first struck with another mother fucking video cut out that I discussed a couple of fucking blogs back. Then I had a major kitchen roach assault out of the blue, and had to empty yet another can of fucking ass expensive RAID all over the place. I then had my Comcast fucking cunt Cable Television system freeze up, and the remote wouldn't work, so I had to unplug the cable box, and let the entire fucking thing reboot. This happens a lot Sheriff; and I pay all of my mother fucking cable bills on time, yet they allow this hacking and shitty mother fucking service to be endlessly delivered to me, YO! I could list the attacks on and on and on, and I know that I don't really have to. You know what is going on, and I know that you do. Ron Wirtz back up in Camden County installed some kind of a radio transmitter back in the early nineteen-nineties, that verified that I indeed was being hit by highly spurious radio signals that were directly aimed at my residence. Of course, that was “ALL THAT HE WAS EVER LEGALLY ABLE TO TELL ME”, like duh; kind Sheriff, sir. We all know what is happening fucking here. The DJIA markets had a bad mother fucking week, so the parallel event using fucking dirtball enemies are striking me real fucking cunt hard this weekend and BOTBARING my entire fucking weekend all to fucking cunt chewing hell and back, YO!!!! Like what the shit eating hell is new, BRO?













Well Sheriff, the mother fuckers hacked off my SPELLCHECKER PROGRAM AGAIN, SIR! RETGH, ajfjfj89dgsj[, ahj8dnp, ajkdfjfjei.

The entire county is right outside my window, and nothing like this has happened for a long time. I do not smell any smoke, but still, I may have to temporarily shut down this blog and continue it later, in case I need to fucking cunt evacuate my cunt chewing apartment!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





MAGNESONIC, MMMMMMMMMMMMM, OPEN COMMAND. YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT TO DO AND HOW TO DO IT, AND YOUR TONES ARE ALL DATA TRANSFERRED. Scan for whoever is putting me through this weekend death assault siege for total crush destruct, singe destruct, total destruct, DESTRUCT! On and 'I' to 'D', A/B TONE, phasing punishment sequencing system, you now will take the empowered image-object that is on your transpower block, and destroy it, and make sure that all atomic duplicational technologies as well as zero dimensional technologies are used, for full and absolute effects to be accomplished.



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Go to General Order 189, under G-719, G-1133, CG-5555, under Coded General Order 18, AND S---T---O---P!







IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME AND I AM KILLED OR FOUND DEAD IN OR NEARBY MY APARTMENT HERE IN FUCKING FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, I WAS MURDERED BY PRESIDENT DONALD JOHN TRUMP AND HIS HORRIBLE FUCKING HENCHMEN, AS WELL AS PAULA KING AND ALL OF MY OTHER FAMILY AND ATLANTIC CITY ENEMIES FROM TOTAL FUCKING HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!









THIS IS THE WORST MOTHER FUCKING ASSAULT ON ME, KIND SHERIFF MASCARA, IN MANY MOTHER FUCKING YEARS, AND I NEED YOUR H ELP. MY DEATH AND MY BLOOD AND WITH GOOGLE AND BLOGGER AS MY WITNESS FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE, IS ON YOUR HANDS, OH GREAT SIR!!!!!!!!!















THIS DOGTOWNITE, AND

THIS HUMAN-HYBRID, IS SIGNING OFF.

Blood type---A neg. Eye color---green-hazel



-------END TRANSMISSION-------

ENDLESSNESS AND END TRANSdimensional!