The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment": BLOG 91 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2018

3:19 POST MERIDIAN

BLOG 91 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

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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!!!!!!!!!!

http://youtu.be/KExU0kPESqk (Governor Jesse Ventura)

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.

http://youtu.be/Vqg3oty0JMU 100% machine created, tkpop.

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.

GLOBAL AUDIENCE BY SHADE RATIO:

Graph of most popular countries among blog viewers

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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

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 ratherm, 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:

RED ALERT RED ALERT RED ALERT

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.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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 DOGDOWNITE, AND

THIS HUMAN-HYBRID IS SIGNING OFF.

'NO CONSCIENCE, NO HUMANITY'

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, 2018

6:25 POST MERIDIAN, EARLY EVENING

Things are horrible and awful, kind Sheriff Mascara, sir. I have had half a dozen Video-Signal-Interruption assaults on me over the past five to eight days, or VSI-ASSAULTS against my legally USA born CIVIL RIGHTS and CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS, as well as my mother fucking HUMAN RIGHTS; my kind and wonderful sir! What this HALLS-FAWCES ENEMY somehow does with some super ultra covert stealthy military high-tech weaponry system, is to send some kind of a damn radio frequency jam, directly into my apartment and Comcast Cable television system; and I see this distortion on the TV-SCREEN. Then after a couple of fucking goddamn ass wiping seconds, boom; the video signal cuts out completely, and then I have to unplug the yellow video wire, leading from my cable box and into my TV-set, and then re-plug it back in, in order to properly restore my video signal. This is along the lines of about one out of a thousand possible mother fucking annoyances and persecutions that are done to me by the despicable fucking low life shit eating enemies of mine, along the lines of what I label and term, “UTILITY-HARASSMENTS”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The enemies are hacking my poor whittle mouseypoo again, kind Sheriff, sir! BUTTERCHEESE, and BIG ASS BUTT, SHERIFF SIR, YO; that pales next to what they fucking cunt did to me at approximately a quarter past midnight this moUUUUUUUUUrning, kind sir! THEY STRUCK THIS PATHETIC SIXTY-FOUR YEAR OLD SICK OLD MAN, WITH ANOTHER ONE OF THEIR MAJOR GODDAMN DEATH-RAY ASSAULTS ON MY PITIFUL DYING BODY, WITHOUT CONSCIENCE, AND WITHOUT A DROP OF MOTHER FUCKING HUMANITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was struck hard with major death cramps out of the blue, from some super HIGH-TECH DEATH WEAPON, THAT IS USED BY THEIR EVIL WICKED MILI-2-FAWCES ARSONAL DEATH-SQUAD, AND HOW DO I KNOW THIS FOR SURE? Well, I could chalk it up to another one of trillion possible mother fucking coincidences, sure I could, but then I just heard on the local news before I shut it off in super anger and began this blog, that the government is now in a partial shut-down, because of Donald Dirtbag Trump and his stupid mother fucking Mexican Wall bullshit!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So 15 minutes after the shut-down, kind Sheriff Mascara sir, YO; POW, BANG, ZOOM, I get hit with another major mother fucking DEATH ATTACK on my poor pathetic pitiful non-Ronstadt body that is alreadt frail and ill enough, without their mother fucking endless assaults, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO

You know, people laugh at me from all over the four mother fucking corners of the world for many various things that my Morianity speaks of,and makes mention to; and has for the past nearly thirteen goddamn years now. I'll bet that the biggest yuk yuk yuk of them all however, is Mountainpen's Morianity's concept of what dreaming really and truly and verily is, oh wonderful LORD JESUS! Well peeps, I can't help that. They even laughed at the LORD JESUS. We won't waste another second right now on this particular blog about what dreams are and why we have them, and the entire nine yards of crap. This has all been said and done, and lots more will berm, but for now, enough is on this 13-YEAR blogging-project, to permit me to just dive right into the meat and heart of the issue that I now am about to tackle. This is the issue that the mighty 'KING', and AKA Mister Elvis Presley; was a major part of my life, but no folks, only in your favorite terms, you know, THREE DIMENSIONS. Never did I have any “DREAMS” about this wonderful dude, well, not that I can pull up in my “conscious recall”, anyway, yo! I did however, know this great fella, and no, he did not really die in 1977; and all of this, as well as my blogging about these truths back when my Morianity was new in the first four years (2006-2009); is the true and real reason that our pop-king boy died, Mister Michael Jackson. No one believes any of this true tale of woe and hellishness, any more than they believe all of the things that JULIA WHITE has done to me in this lifetime as MARK WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN HUNTINGTON MOHR, by persons under her control by way of the great EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY; and those three are Patty Hollister, Paula King, and Melanie Safka. Again, I stress with a full and open heart; maybe all three of these persons here in our ordinary waking world reality, are totally and absolutely clueless to any of this, but they were all indeed being used, at least IMHO, by the great ASTRAL PLANE VIQUEEN (Archangel), Jewelly White; and more fuller names, that would take an entire page to fully and accurately blog. WHAAAAAAAA!

Let's discuss that dream now; Mister Robert Mueller, and kind Sheriff Ken J. Mascara; you know; the one that took place on the night of July eleventh in 1997, causing me to wake up in a really weird, and wild crazy mood, of my needing to really explore my past on Tennessee Avenue; perhaps even more than the experience I had with the I-CHING, back half a year earlier, on the prior year's Pearl Harbor Day, (December 7, 1996)! Before we do get into this wild hyperspace-interaction or DREAMING EXPERIENCE, to be a bit more presently human and mortal sounding here; dya ever wonder me peeps, just why we do wake up many times on the so-called “wrong side of the bed”? I mean, come on, you are not all that stupid that you're going to fucking tell me that you don't know what the fuck the Mountainpen is squawking about here, yo. Gimme' a fucking bwake here, Mizz 1985 Margie Leo, yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!! We sometimes wake up and for no logically apparent reason, we are in all kinds of crazy ass moods. Don't go hollering back at me that only you crazies do that, because I know differently. Everyone from time to time wakes up in a stupid mood that we don't understand. Well, as stated folks, we don't remember all of our dreaming activities, and some remember none of them, not on a conscious level that is. But our deeper mind does indeed react to our 'dreams', and causes our conscious moods and behaviors to indeed be effected as a result. This is Mountainpen's total proof that reality indeed IS FIFTH DIMENSIONAL! WE CANNOT CLAIM to exist only in 3-D, as we just DON'T!!!! So let's get back to the July 11, 1997 'dream'.

A large gorgeous brunette girl was standing right outside of a parking lot, that was directly next door to Robert McGuire's Hotel and Bar known as the Pittsburgh Hotel and Erin Bar, on Tennessee Avenue,in Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG. Only the hotel and bar was not there, and in its place was a New Jersey State Police Barracks. Now in 1984, I had a friend who replaced me after I left my position at the Institute for Medical Research, on Ferry Avenue, in Camden, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG. His name was Robert Patterson Cheatley. He lived in Collingswood, New Jersey, just blocks away from the great elusive Donna Patterson Lalassas, and also just down the street from Knights Park and the high school where I received my fake diploma from, West Collingswood High, after a major hush-hush deal went down between the great Cooley Hall High power structures, my mom, and the Superintendent of Schools for Camden County, New Jersey, Mister Thompson. Going into all of the known connections of which there are literally countless hundreds of them, would take us into infinity, and this blog is being written here on the mortal world, so that is impossible. So let us merely condense and bring some of these wild fucking truths and facts all together, and wrap them up with a goddamn nice pwetty whittle white and pink Christmas bow, just for the occasion of the season, that is now a mere trickling few days away, out in the future of negative or anti-matter space. Paula King is indeed, the tall large beautiful long dark haired super girl, that was in that powerful July 11, 1997 dreaming interaction, in some localized parallel universe out in the hyperspace, as well as the singing Christmas tree angel in 1980, at the great and elusive, and quite illustrious as well, ROBIN HILL APARTMENTS in Voorhees, Township, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG! When I first had the dream in 1980, I thought only that I always knew this girl that I could never place, here in waking life. When I had the dream again after just over seventeen years, I thought it was Sarah Callio's grandmother, and I was only able to go by information told to me, by those trying their best to obfuscate me, such as Sarah Callio and Robert McGuire. BUTTERCHEESE and big as BUTT BUT, Mister great Spellchecker; WHAAAAAAAA; this character was the one and only, parking lot owner and radio station owner, and millionairess; Mizz PAULA ESS Julia White KING!!!! All summer long in 1997, she would tease me with her great WAYV RADIO STATION, playing that song over and over, “FEEL REAL”, when I would be on the beach, or in the ocean; right outside the LEVY LIFEGUARD TOWER, and just beyond that, is the entrance into the arcade building, where both the 'CCC' Casino Control Commission, as well as the WAYV radio station were situated in, yo. Of course, I was clueless to what they were doing to me, even though I mother fucking knew totally well that it was in fact being done to me. I am not some mother fucking retard!!! Why is that particular song apropos here, you may wonder; me kind folks, and true Blogaudians? Well, the child molester who raped me twice in July of 1970, Mister Thomas J. Reale, of Ventnor, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG, is one of the family friends. The aunt of both Sarah and Frank Callio, is Victoria Callio. Spellchecker wants me to hit the enter key, and print the full password to some of my on-line stuff; but that wouldn't be a very good idea, now would it? Moving right along here, and HA-HA-HA Mizz Jane Dirtweeds Diseasesleaze Fonda, YOU MISSED ME, ya bitch; 555555555555555555, but I'll print a few of me wovwee fives aniwho, wo, and Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa; Vicki Callio was dating Tom Reale back then in the summer time of the year 1970. She always told me that I have such gorgeous hair. Oh well, some of it is gone now, but then so have lots of calendar pages as well, so WEEEEEEEE! Frank was the lifeguard right there near the great Ventnor Pier, and worked with his pal, Albright, who went and did something bad with his telephone, that connected me into the plot, and I know that I have blogged all of this story before, when Morianity was new; and so for right now, I need to stick to the fucking point of this particular blog, that being, the dream of 1997 about Paula King on 10-SC Avenue, and how it fits into Callio and Presley, and lots and lots and lots of other major shit, that involves huge name recognized people that everyone reading these words would know instantly as household names. Bob Cheatley and I met when I went back to the medical institute to see my old coworker there, Mister Stockwell Shinn. Now if you think the Mountainpen has a mouth on him when he gets pissed off, it is only because you never ever met Mister SS. This man could out curse a fucking shipyard stevedore and a union mob boss, PUT TOGETHER; and THAT was when he was in a good mood!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, he let me in on a very gigantic secret that only the gods know why he was keeping it. He took me to a special house in West Berlin, New Jersey one day, and let me meet a man who pretended to be an Elvis Impersonator, and who worked as the Dispatcher for the New Jersey Police Marine Division at the Atlantic City Harrah's Casino Division. The only thing about all of this was there was a very wonderful reason that he was such an incredible Elvis Impersonator. That being, he wasn't impersonating anyone. He WAS ELVIS, and he faked his death seven years earlier, because of someone in Atlantic City, who had caused him and his family, unfathomable agony, and the only way out was to fake his mother fucking death. I only met him three times, and I have no idea if he lived too long after the year 1984, but I will tell you, that the State Police being on Tennessee Avenue, in that powerful hyper interaction, was NO COINCIDENCE. Paula King and Sarah Callio made his life unbearable; and Sarah Callio married one of his best friends here in life, and you all remember him as the great Everybody loves somebody sometimes, Mister AL MARTINO!!! Without going on and on, I know and Morianity will endlessly preach, that TSE is indeed totally real and true, and can be further backed up with why we all wake up from time to time in unknown, and yet very bizarre moods!!!!!!!!!! TSE=Towel Seepage Effects. This means that if we take a soaking wet towel, and then take eight other dry towels, and we place them near the wet one in all sorts of randomly scattered layout patterns; the towels that were dry, will all begin to get wet, in various ways and with various amounts, and if we color that water with heavy dye or even lots of paint, yet thin enough to remain in a very thin consistency; we will see all sorts of different scatter-patterns on the once dry towels. Think of the wet towel now as the universe that you just visited in a dream, where you just now have awakened from. Now think of your waking life as one of the dry towels. This is what Morianity is referring to when I discuss TSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Somebody somewhere, surely hates this mother fucking blog, kind Sheriff Mascara, sir. Some stupid ass shit screen popped up and told me a scan is in progress that pertains to updates. I clicked onto the 'postpone' rectangle, and I'll keep doing that until I am finished and posted up, YO, kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It is one hack and or annoyance after another, but ever notice kind Sheriff sir, it only happens when I really begin to shoot at those mother fuckign targets that are running around for cover in that huge pitch black room that Mister David Roth chose as a metaphor to discuss our attempts at fighting the Mili-2-Fawces back. See, it popped up again, and will every ten minutes or so, kind sir, and there is no way to fucking let me X-OUT of it, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now I'll tell you something else, Sheriff Mascara, and we can worry about my telling a whole lot more to this July 11, 1997 dream experience on a later following blog, since this bullshit is fucking with me, yo, and by the way, I love the beard, looks great on U!

I was watching the local Palm Beach News on the ABC Network yesterday, Friday evening, and now I have a brand new non-Melanie-key medical item to concern myself freaking with, kind sir, Sheriff KJM!!!!!! It goddamn seems that my medication for lowering my blood pressure is being recalled by the lab-maker. This is called LOSARTAN. When I attempt to tell the powerful truths that indeed do tie my very special world renown daughter into my nightmare medical condition, this is what I get, and UI have noticed this time and fucking cunt time again, kind sir, so there is no way you or anyone else is ever going to convince me that this is just some horrible coincidence and or a case of extremely never ending relentless bad shitty fucking luck!!!!!!!!!!!! So sorry, but I ain't a' buyin' into it, me BRO!!!!

I know that there is a parallel universe double or (doppelganger) of my wonderful kid, who took over the identity of a lab-technician, in Northeastern Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA, ESMWG, back in early 1994 somewhere; and she not only gave me driving instructions to the place that I had the world famous BonJovi peeps use on a standard VOCODER MACHINE, but B4I continue onward here, I need to tell you that these mother fucking bastards almost wiped out MY BLOG, SHERIFF MASCARA, with this new hack. NEXT TIME I GET THIS SCREEN SIR, YO YO YO YO YO YO; I will save the document to that point, shut down the Open-Office-Program, and then shut down the entire mother fucking PC machine, and then let them just do their stupid ass fucking thing. They will win whether I try to stop them or not, and I may not be as fucking cunt fortunate the next time, and might end up losing my mother fucking cunt eating blog, yo!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! So back now to the driving instructions. I know what many on triple digit, and then some, intelligence quotients, are thinking right about now. How can an ESS doppelganger of your great daughter be able to make just anyone sound like her? Let me answer you with the following words of Mister Marcucci wisdom here; as that's all I am able to do here, as a powerless and pathetic nobody, who has fallen the victim of a horrendous mother fucking gods-game here in this life as present me, alive and human, in this current physical body! Who remembers the wonderful original STAR TREK TELEVISION shows, and that super wonderful fucking episode, where we all saw the android who used to play 'LURCH' on the great ADAMS FAMILY? Think of it like this folks. If normal flesh and blood human fucking beings such as you, or me, or Gene; oh great wonderful Blogaudians; can come up with an android by the name of ROCK, who made his famous statement on that wonderful and timeless television show where Misses Gene Roddenberry played that cool role as Nurse Chapel, and who was looking for someone who she used to care for in a romantic way, that had been doing experiments with and pertaining to human beings extending their lifetimes into near immortality; by merging our consciousness with an android body; then is anybody out here going to even so much as try and tell me that folks who are a part of the mighty, if not the all mighty, Exploratronic Supermind Society, can do any less????????????? You may need to find and view the video, of that great super original 'STAR TREK' SHOW, to hear 'ROCK' fake out that he is other people, in order for you all to better grasp and understand what I now will call, after many damn decades of this type of uncertainty; the “BONJOVI-LURCH-SYNDROME”! I only know that many things happened, and then decades later when these tapes miraculously made their way down here to Florida with me when I practically had only the clothes on my back and a few bags of personal shit that I was able to secretly get into my car without deadly dangerous Dawn King catching and stopping me, with me; and then after taking one of these tapes over to the AVALON STUDIOS of Port Saint Lucie, Florida, so that I could transpose these driving instructions into a musical harmony track on that fish song that I rewrote in 2013 from a tune that I had written and copyrighted from thirty years earlier, that was a song from a 1983 musical project by the name of “SAGA OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD”, well hey yo, you all do the fucking math here. I for one am tired of this whole nasty ass fucking mess, me BRAHHHHH!!!!!!! Now remember kind folks that this is only one facet in all of this medically connected nightmarish to the fucking thirteenth power bullshit, that all went down in middle 1983, yo!!!! There are so many other angles, such as to this very day, I still find myself in “DREAMS” with many extremely spurious people, and to quote the great Nancy Barrett, from that great super sixties television show, “Dark Shadows”, when she was discussing what dreams were, in her views and ideas, to that Frankenstein-made creation, “ADAM”, in her role as Mizz Carolyn Stoddard; “Some people who you do know, and some people who you don't know”! Yes me great, as well as perhaps not so great Blogaudians; I am indeed, upon many horrific and restless nights, in parallel worlds; and in that wild house where I ended up here, or so I believe but can never prove; Mister Childress and Professor Kaku, and yes, this is the House of Nakedness, as I refer to it as; and it's where my memories, or my lack of them, leads my consciousness into, that I found myself at, right after getting into my vehicle to drive back home to 506 Robin Hill Apartments, after my leaving the mysterious office of the elusive throat specialist, and his incredible and unfathomable laboratory technician assistant. Some really high-IQ-peeps are right about now asking me, “So when are you gonna' just give it up and realize they've gotcha, and there's nothing you can do about it, I mean after-all, you're the mother fucker who fully believes in this wild group of energy travelers (spirit)?” Well geniuses out here, what can J.J. Evans or I say to that? We both know that you're totally, fully, and 100% correct. But I am still going to poke and prod around, just as I asked that guitar player buddy of mine who was playing then in the Robert Hazard Band, and just had their big hit record out called, “Escalator of Life”, the group was called, the “Heroes”, and my pal was Mister Pete Smith, who was working with me a year or two earlier back on the Camden, New Jersey riverfront at the great and illustrious McAndrews & Forbes Licorice Company, where we were Security Guards! Like freaking WEEEEEEEEE! Yeah, old Ernie Merker, and me, and ADA Jack McCoy of L&O; let's keep trying not to have those distant shoreline dreams, where the land forever fades away, huh?????????????? How would 1971 teenager Mike McNulty say this right about freaking now, yo? AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh yes, my wonderful parallel universe laboratory technician, SHEEEEEEEEEEIT! If you can chime in right about now, Mister JAY JAY EVEANS; maybe I could have some freaking good times, and then; maybe not. As Ziggy said back in 1969, “You don't know nothin'”. He was totally on the damn ass $$$$$$$$$$$. No I don't know, and I was just having fun on that original tune that BECAME THE 30-YEAR LATER TIME-BRIDGE FISH SONG, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!! Still, the initials really do have a wild fucking ass meaning to that other songWRITER Mister Spellchecker, or that other song!!!!!!!!!!!! You know, “the song”; hey, we all know that I don't keep up too well with entertainment news. Everybody knows it, Jesus Christmas trees man, and lovely Christmas tree angels too, yo!!!!!!!!!!! Still, why you ask me? Why don't I keep up with shit? Because it has little meaning for pitiful whittle Mister Mountainpen, that's why, yo. I know my kid's got dozens of fantastic songs, so then why would I concentrate only on “THE SONG”? Well, I'll answer that in the very best possible way that I am so blessed and able to do so, kind folks. “Girl, I'll Tell You Anything”, is a song that is just one of my songs on an entire musical project that I enjoyed doing while living over at Mister Gerald Pliner's rental home, at 134 Norris Avenue, in Atco, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG. The entire project was named, “SAGA OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD”. We all know this by now, even the great Billy Joel, I'm quite sure, “knows this by now”!!!!!!!!!! Still, let's take a quick whittle gander here of the initials to that long titled single song on that 35+ year old musical project, GITYA. I mean, the song, whose hers or mine? Just a whittle bit of old style curl-girl Houston humor here, Mister fucking wonderful SUPERMAN. Yes Kenny Rogers sir, even Superman is back in the Purgatory, as you said. Kryptonite and horses; what a deadly and dangerous combination. Oh well, maybe a whittle bit like Goddess Scylla and DOGGIES! TEE-HEE-HEE, AND BUTTERCHEESE!!!!!!!!! No, I am not going to mention alligators and reptiles any more. Let's keep peace and harmony, and a 'whittle-bitta' X-MAS spirit in the family; like WHAAAAAAAA!!!!!! Hybrid Sign-off!

'CHECK THIS OUT, SHERIFF MASCARA, SIR'

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2018

1:24 ANTE' MERIDIAN, EARLY MORNING

On my previous blog, I told how some robo-caller not only broke the law calling me with their criminal activity, but they broke another law, by somehow knocking out all of my goddamn call history on my landline Comcast telephone, that the phone calls the LOG. I had nearly twenty calls, and when they called and knocked it out illegally somehow, to persecute and mother fucking harass me; the log read “zero call log”. Sheriff Mascara, sir, their was no reading above the number, which I am sure these illegal hacker-robo dirt bags use that thing that is called ????, that's right Sheriff, they have hacked my mind now and made me forget, but I know that you know the name of this new illegal caller-ID block-hack that they use. All that showed up was the phone number, and I am sure it is fucking bogus. Still, I want you to have it for your records, sir. The number that showed up early last evening, while I was reading my blog back at BLOGGER DOT COM, is:

(772) 489-7581.

Also for the record, kind sir, and wonderful great Sheriff; for the past couple months now since this illegal phone harassment has gone on a steroidal binge, the calls appear on the ID display, as coming from both MY area code here in Saint Lucie County, as well as MY three digit exchange prefix numbers of 489. By the way, I received your call about the child molester who moved into my area the other day, thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh and by the way, they call that ID-BLOCK, phone-hack, 'spoofing', sir! They must have released their MIND HACK on me just now!

Like WOW and WO-WO-WO-WO JOANN-'A'.

Sheriff; can I really be imagining all of this?

ALL SAVANTS KNOW THAT THIS IS THE END.

'THE BUTTERCHEESE EFFECTS THAT LINGER'

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2018

4:49 POST MERIDIAN, LATE AFTERNOON,

YES CHESTER PERKOWSKI, AND TO ALL OOOOOOOOOOOOMINUS1 ENTITIES, AND TO ALL SUPERMEN OF ALL WORLDS EVERYWHERE, AND NEVER EVER EXCLUDING SUPER GIRLS OF COURSE: We're not leaving the great goddesses or the King family out of things; not for a fucking goddamn second, Sheriff Mascara; me kind sir. Yes sir; I have suddenly fallen into a major mother fucking DEATH ATTACK SIEGE, within the past hour today, after a short stint of slightly more quiet and less stressful times. But as Agent Condor and Agent Falcon told me, and the rest of America, on that fateful day and time and television show, from the great and mighty New York City Television Station, WPIX, CHANNEL #11, on that marvelous and awesome show called, “UFO-THE COVERUP”; like fucking cunt eating super triple dog WOW. Lads and lassies, they truly won't ever give any of us who they decide to strike for life, A MOMENT'S MOTHER FUCKING CUNT HUFFING PEACE, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!

After a sudden burst of illegal robocalls on my Comcast Land-line phone, when I lifted up the phone and hung it back up as I do many times after the third ring and seeing their bullshit fucking junk on the caller-ID part of the phone, suddenly my entire call-log was emptied by these sleaze bag mother fuckers. This is highly illegal to break into a person's home, electronically or otherwise, it is still breaking and entering, and until the stupid ass mother fucking law catches up with this monstrous evil gone-a-muck technology, I am fully and completely screwed, and I know it. You see, rarely do they come right in here and do things directly, as then, they would have THE LAW TO WORRY ABOUT, It really is just this simple, and things work in just that way. They of course totally know just that much, and they operate their mother fucking death persecutions on me, accordingly, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SHERIFF MASCARA SIR, THIS IS A

RED ALERT---RED ALERT---RED ALERT

Sheriff sir, 'They' think that I won't carry out my promises that I have recently eluded to on previous blogs, and that shows me that even my powerful fucking entity-enemies have weaknesses and frailties, as it is a frailty to not see strengths in someone whom they are persecuting to death, and also in not realizing that desperation will eventually cause for me to absolutely implement desperate fucking cunt measures, and believe me folks, I WILL. Case and point, not one fucking soul believed that I would have the cunt chewing fucking balls to run away in the dead of night in the snow and ice with the clothes on my back, a thousand and a half miles from any home I had ever known, and come here to dogshit fucking Florida. BUTTERCHEE, I DID, Mister fucking Spellchecker, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!

It isn't like I have no weaponry at all in my arsenol. I know that once I cross the RED-LINES, it will never ever be the same. The volcanoe will blow and I will be huvering right there on top of it in midair, suspended and ready for the fallout of my cock sucking life. BUTTERCHEE, Mister BIG-ASS-BUT-SPELLCHECKER; I will do what I have to do, just as I drove down to Florida, and I left my old life behind. I am ready to leave all of this hellishness behind me, and if I have to go from a frying pan, directly into a fucking volcano; then so be it. I am not a fucking cunt coward. A few select folks know that when I am pushed too cunt eating fucking hard, then POOF, you've asked for it, YO me BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Every possible thing is attainable when you have ultimate mother fucking technology to goddamn work with. I know that the two very intelligent men who I enjoy listening to on the educational cable channels, David Childress, and Professor Michio Kaku; fully understand that reality and that concept. I know it without them ever uttering those precise words, just from hearing the words that they have spoken so far on numerous fantastic television documentaries and shows. I witnessed the ultimate technology being used, when they took me to a large and very beautiful vessel that many of you would think of as a starship, but then again, they can paste that together as well, and as easily as you can say the words “Sarah sits on the shoeshine steps”, Mister Sidney Cohen Nonfixer Crown. One of these dudes put me on a smaller scout vessel and launched me somewhere, and then I ran into someone else who they had also done this same thing to, and we were saluting each other through the viewers of our vessels. After this was all done, and for whatever fucking reason, the two men in that other vessel as well as myself, were back inside this gigantic mother-ship as Earthlings love to call them, and I remember being asked why I attempt to tell so many things about my Huntington family. This happened in mortal world or Earth time, about three or four years ago somewhere. My memory of when I have what you call dreams and what I call hyperspace-interactions, is not always totally clear, as far as my relating it back to mortal world timing. I am getting a constant Mortimer Mortino death angel assault on my right mother fucking side, and this has been ongoing off and on for ten minutes now, and it is now 23 minutes past 5 of the fucking clock. To get back now into original drive-gears, to where I was before the death angel annoyance; yes folks, I was sitting at a long cylindrically shaped table with the two other guys that were saluting me, and me them; and then there was a man who was thirteen feet and five inches tall, and was very thin, looking like an extra stretched SHADOW-MONSTER from my boyhood nightmares back at the HADDON HILLS APARTMENTS. He wanted to know why I wanted to tell secrets about my family, that seemed to cause shame or unpleasantness in general, and I believe those were practically his precise words to me in that question. No matter how many times I attempted to explain that I was being messed with, and that my life was being fully and completely ruined by some power or force (Halls-Forces) or whatever; and that I needed to do certain things in order to retaliate against these monstrous mother fucking perpetrators; he couldn't seem to grasp the concept of what was going on. Now I have managed to put together that many people here on the Earth Planet, under the control of these HALLS-FAWCES of course; are of the same mind-set, and that is of course being because they are these same entities, or ASTRAL PLANE GODS. When our talk had concluded at that large cylindrically shaped table, and the dude stood up, suddenly the floor on the vessel sunk down, while simultaneously the ceiling rose up, and the room was literally growing massively taller. Once this process had completed itself, this dude turned into a large COIN. I have discussed the Astral Plane GODS and GODDESSES, and told you all that in truth, they are large bright powerful energy beings, and half of them are COIN shaped, while the other half of them are COIL shaped. Here comes mother fucker Mortimer Mortino AGAIN, and on my right side again, for the fucking tenth time or so now, Sheriff, at 5:32 P.M. This is fucking super ass annoying and monotonous too; to quote Curly Howard on one of those great “3 Stooges” shows!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now before the end of the meeting, he told me that if I say too many things to the folks around me back on the Earth-Planet, it will interrupt the game because if the entities there get onto the game, it won't be as much fun, and without the fun, the distraction from the hellishness of non-oblivion will be lessened. That cannot be tolerated. I agreed, but didn't see why anything that I was saying, could interfere with the game, even the Game of SALVATION, where the gods create an arena for dreamers who lose astral-energy, to not be aware of their truer selves, and not be under a higher world directive or control, and he went on and on until I asked him what all of that gobbledygook meant, and he apologized and said, “You know, free will”. He then went on to make me see that hyperspace and fifth dimensional thinking by the masses, would wreak havoc with the GAME OF SALVATION, DUE TO WHAT I MIGHT THINK OF AS THE HYPERCHRIST-EFFECT. If people knew that they lose energy on the astral realm where they are some gargantuan soul being that is way too large to fit into any one lifetime, and so they are scattered in pieces all over, and that in the Game of Salvation, where Jesus Christ must be accepted as Lord and Savior; this means that every single parallel part of us, in order to win this game, and be in Sahasra Dal Kanwal (HEAVEN); must make the correct choice. Until this happens, the exact percentage of our true beingness is allowed into the great city with a city-pass and they have a city-name. The remainder energetic beingness of us as true Purgatites, is barred from entry, and is under the STRIKE-4-DOGTOWN penalty system. So when I discuss things such as TSE (Towel-Seepage-Effects) of transdimensional reality, and other such things, and I were to ever be believed, even in some tiny way, by the powers here on the Earth Planet, that are in charge of the organized religious power structures; this would completely disrupt the game, and the ASTRAL-GODS will do any and all things necessary in order to prevent that Purgatorial fiasco. That's a quote, if, and no pun intended here I promise, “If I can quote Mister L&O Adam Schiff”. TEE-HEE-HEE!!!!

JUDGE BUTTERCHEESE & HIS MAGICAL TIME-HOUSE OF HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY

MONDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 17, 2018

SHERIFF MASCARA, I AM UNDER A MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING DEATH ASSAULT TODAY. I HAVE NABE NOISE ATTACK, CUM-PUKE-HER HACKERS, AIR SIEGE WITH LOUD PRIVATE PLANES AND LARGE CHEMTRAILS ALL OVER, AND THE DAY IS YOUNG AND ONLY MOTHER FUCKING BEGINNING, KIND SIR!!!

Whenever the building people knock on the doors to the apartments early in the morning, the crazy fucking nabes in my TRIAD system of hellishness, always come to fucking life, with a major vengeance. Some automatic mother fucking system inside the machine is operating, and until it fucking is done doing its damn ass bullshit, I will have problems typing this blog. Eddie Himacane never believed me when I told him that unless the machine has terabytes of power, multitasking WILL FUCK UP your typing projects. I've seen it over and over, and I know it is true; and yet he tells me that he is the fucking computer expert. McNulty would answer that one real nicely with his world famous by now, “AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA”! The knock on the door was the food bank with some cans of veggies and a bag of raw pinto beans. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Yes lads and lassies, I am starting to take very seriously, the shit on the Science and History Channels on Cable-TV. You know what I'm talking about. It is the only explanation for my entire fucking bizarre and outlandish life, of totally otherwise unexplainable continual and never ending cunt huffing bullshit! The only thing however that I don't agree with, is that these gods from out there, care one way or another about humanity. This green-hazel eyed, type A negative blood, human being; knows fully well that they are PLAYING A GAME; and it is no different at all than the kids today going into a video arcade place at their local fucking mall, and playing with little blobs or other such pack men and so forth. We merely up it by one dimension from here, to quote the mighty and great late Doctor Coral Sagan. This is what my 1994 book, 'The Permission Barrier' was attempting to explain, and with much futility, may I also add herein; me kind and unkind folks, peeps, and Blogaudians in general. Obviously no one person does or ever will, have a handle on absolute truth, but my life's experience allows me to tell quite a powerful fucking story, that is if anyone out here ever gave a fucking damn ass shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

One third of my triad-nabe situation, the peeps next door to me, have had a sign on their door off and on this year, that warns the world that their apartment is under video surveillance, and accuses the building authority of entering and taking things, if I am paraphrasing correctly from their note on the door that appears for a couple of months and then goes away, and then it is back again, etcetera. I too could hang such a note. I know that things fucking happen in here, BUTTERCHEE, BUT, big ass BUT, Mister Microsoft Spellchecker; I know that this is not what is happening. I know that these gods can do shit inside a person's fucking dwelling, without ever entering into it physically, or leaving so much as a tidbit iota of a trace. I watched them paste in, literally, planets and solar systems; so I know what I know, and at least I didn't say, that I know, Patty-Paula and Merry! My kitchen sink was fine a few days ago, and now it has stopped draining properly. I never pour food or grease into it, and the little bit that comes from washing dishes, is completely compensated by dish washing liquid, and that is what is happening, Merry-look-alike, without any dish-washing machines. Now, this new problem just happened out of nowhere, and for no reason at all; along with tons of brand new mother fucking roaches that just popped up out of the blue, over the cock sucking goddamn weekend. As I said, I am dealing, and so are all of you whether you know it or not, or believe it or not; with advanced entities that can just literally PASTE in and out, anything that they wish, to our reality. If you told your fifth great grand parents about modern day internet and computers, and how we can cut and paste stuff (CAP); they would have you locked up in a bell tower somewhere. Knowledge and technology is relative.

Another powerful part of the games of these gods is the full control over the human mind. I witnessed this at McGuire's botbar-bar on 10-SC Avenue in early February of 1997, and before that, in late June of 1996, at my goddamn apartment, over at the great and powerful non-OZ Highview of Williamstown, New Jersey, on Kent Street and Sicklerville Road; Mizz Marie of 1972. Yes, she lived only a short trek away from that place in those times and days, but I am getting off of the beaten track here, folks, yo! My 'TPB'-BOOK made no bones about the fact that this entire thing was super high technology, and also A HUGE FUCKING GAME, with us poor dumb human beings as the little Packman-blobs! Now, decades later, we see all my words echoed and replayed on these great cable-TV Channels, yo. WOW to that and all of it, huh Mizz P. Hollister? But some folks are still wondering if McGuire and Hollister are some of these gods. Stop worrying about it. The Exploratronic Supermind Society can temporarily go into any and all of us whenever they may choose to do so, and you will barely if at all, be aware of anything. If you are as sensitive as the Mountainpen, you may be slightly aware, but even I get caught 'off guard', yes Russ Thaxton sir, and Frank Chester, yo. So WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, again!!!!

If anyone can be mind controlled, this is why I am treated like fucking shit on these incredible BOTBAR days, no matter what I do or where I go, and this is ALSO WHY on other days, it is as though I am living on an entirely other world. So don't be so fucking quick to judge and say to me, as many do and have; “You're just fucking all sick in the cunt eating head, and so people treat you fucked up”. This is not so, and you are incorrect in your false ass judgments of a pathetic innocent targeted victim in a cosmic crime, that is merely a huge fucking game to these prick eating fucking shits!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When it was 2007, I had been blogging for an entire year by then, and these gods could plainly see that I was planning to tell a huge major fucking tale of horror and woe to a blind, ignorant, unsuspecting world. This is why they began to step up the already existing HELLGAME with me at that point, first with Patty Jane the pipe-games-man, and without the fire or the light, from a transdimensional parallel reality, where the great fist throw game had five parts and not three; and then they went way beyond this, into the Judge Frank Rasso House-Of-Horrors or otherwise and AKA Judge 'Buttercheese and his magical time-house'. Whether my kid was actually participating in this rotten mess or not, doesn't even matter. You see, I believe that a parallel universe doppelganger who is part of the ESS, did all of this, and not her, as we all know her from here. Still and all, my entire life was altered, and I lost every mother fucking thing that was precious to me. What little I had and cherished, is now gone forever; and not one mother fucking bastard on this planet, Sheriff sir; gives a cock sucking hoot-pollute in hell about any of it. But someday when these same nightmare events happen to more and more and more of us; then they WILL CARE, and to quote my great kid, then it will “BE TOO LATE”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh yeah yeah yeah, to quote lovely and talented sixties pop queen Melanie Safka; I don' know all that much about reptiles, nor do I want to, nor for that matter, about exotic cheeses. But I do know that I was struck hard by these Patty-Jane gamesmen with my medication. And now I have to drive nearly 20 miles round trip to another place, to get my anti-anxiety medication. Because of the name of this other place, this is why I have thus named this blog title, what I have; along with the Starburn Pennsylvania dream, huh Mister Ron Carlisle Wirtz Senior? WOW!

Mizz Fondaslutweeds just tried to get me with her mother fucking page eleven shit, and guess what; she fucking did. The cunt eating masking tape gets old, and eventually makes that little paper that I use, fall off of my computer monitor; and she got me. Allow me now folks, to mother fucking compensate with my goddamn ass fives, yo, tanks!

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When I halted my blogging project that you all know as Morianity, for about a quarter of a decade, before resuming the project back late in August of 2018; I had something happen to me, that made me think very intently, about an old acquaintance that I met at the office of my old 1975 vocalist who did my two country tunes, back on April 30th of 1980, Congressman Rob Andrews; and as I speak-type, I'm getting a nasty left side death angel attack at approximately twenty minutes past eleven; and this man was his assistant, after Philip Petru and Steve Peterson had moved on from their positions there in 1998, and his name was Mister Clarence Harris. He was a very mysterious sort of a fellow in his own right, and had been a United States Marine Corpsman in his younger days. He told me once that if it were not illegal to do so unless done officially by the federal government, that “He would love to somehow fake my death, and then standby and see who comes around to pick at my bones”. Let me quickly tell you how this fits into my blog project, and after stopping it for a while. Once I had been 'gone' for a long time, 'they' complained that some of my blogs were offensive, and that they infringed on copyrights, and numerous other complaints, which all led to after starting these blogs up again this past August, I am no longer able to post many things that I used to, but also, many of my blogs had been taken down and removed, and sent back to what BLOGGER DOT COM calls, “DRAFTS”. If this wasn't along the lines of what Mister Clarence Harris told me that day in 1998 over at Guthrie Short's Blue Anchor, New Jersey mansion, at 231 Route 73; then I really, truly, honestly, and verily don't know what would, or could be; oh unkind world!!! This A-NEGATIVE, green-hazel colored eyed human hybrid is signing off for now, Mister David Childress, and Professor Michio Kaku of NYU. WHAAAAAA!

END TWANSMISSION SILWEE WABBIT, YO!

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 12, 2018

9:12 POST MERIDIAN

I DON'T AGREE WITH JENNIFER WASHBURN

No sir, no mahm, I do not. I also no longer agree with Dave Roth, about shooting in the dark; not when I am left with absolutely no other survival choice!!!!!!! It was bad enough when he said what he said, as far as my monstrous persecution, back when was in the year 1988, and only two years into this post August of 1986 DEATH-HELL, but after another thirty years and four months, well; I need not say another mother ******* word! I mean really, do I?

It is all on the older and beginning chapters on my Morianity BLOGS. I was in Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG, with Mizz Jennifer Washburn. We were discussing my horrendous troubles and woes. I told her that maybe I need to prove my claims by jumping into the air and right over her entire building down there on Providence Road. She responded with an incredible retort that went, “Mark, what would it prove”? For reasons that completely elude and escape me, I never brought it up again, and I never did this. Now I think that I should have. But alas, all is not lost and over quite yet. Unlike more than two decades ago in the summer time of 1997, today there is not only the all mighty SOCIAL MEDIA, but everyone everywhere without exception, carries the universe around with them now in their pocket. I am speaking of the great camera-cell-phone. Yes folks, my 1997 ocean swimming days, should this had been the present era, would have altered the world considerably. Well, these ocean swimming days may just need to be resurrected me wonderful and kind people out here; in order to fulfill the prophecy of that great unknown by the public book, called, “The Permission Barrier” or TPB, as a shortened abbreviation. Oh yes, fulfilling prophecies is something that any great bible is full of, quite naturally. The Morianic prophecies are absolutely no darn exception, with the incredible flying concert fan. Yes, the great United States Copyright Examiners know precisely what is being said here, and I mean to carry out this promise, unless things mother ******* alter for me very soon, and for the goddamn better, and IPYT peeps! No lads and lassies, I do not think that I can afford NOT TO SHOOT AT ALL THE DAMN TARGETS that are in that large and pitch dark room, that Dave Roth was referring to back in 1988, that day over at my house in Moorestown, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG. So yes folks, I no longer agree AT ALL, not with Dave, and not with lovely Jennifer, YO!

Who really are the KING'S? And for that matter, who really are the CALLIO'S? And taking this a stretch even further down that elusive road of gloom, doom, and unfathomable fear; who really are the HUNTINGTON FAMILY? Well, let us begin to explore this, and in perspective with the Exploratronic Supermind Society and the “TRAVELERS” that comprise this group that Morianity has so named! In a totally abridged and compressed nutshell, just how does my personal post August 1986 hell, all fit into this, as well as how does my wild and mysterious glandular and throat condition fit into this rotten messy dog****? Again, let us further explore and super sleuth around, folks. First off, and this is not some damn cop out people, nothing fits perfectly when we continue to insist on viewing this matter in just three dimensions. We need the truth of fifth dimensional hyperspace, in order to properly frame and fit together, many of these wild cosmic jigsaw puzzle pieces. The great Albert Einstein was able to see that black-holes and parallel universes were mathematically verifiable, even though it wasn't as if he was able to point to any of them and say, hey yo, take a gander at this. If you refuse to see the incredible power of mathematics, then there truly is no point in wasting any further time, when you could be doing any number of fantastic other things besides reading the MOUNTAINPEN'S MORIANITY! When my mathematics proves for example, that many powerful items in my own hellish life, can be perfectly Bruce Pennock graphed and charted, when nothing else but the mathematics, will properly and adequately reveal these patterns of inconceivable truths; and people are still in total denial about the life-equations for lack of a better and more descriptive term; then nothing else that I could ever say and print in words, would matter one tiny whittle iota! As I speak and type at 9:43 now, a fire alarm is going off here at my public housing building, at 601 Avenue B, in Fort Pierce, Florida, USA, ESMWG. Switching the gears back now to mathematical truths; no one else in the scientific community has ever dared to apply mathematical power to human life situations, at least not at all in the way that Morianity has been doing on these blogs for coming up on thirteen years now. There is nobody else on this planet who has ever come to realize the powerful truth that shows mathematically how we indeed create and mirror image all of the so-called quantum physical equations and concepts. The greatest example is in the casino game of Roulette. If you tell people that they can jot down numbers from one wheel all of their life, or from hundreds of various wheels all over the world at multiple casinos; and the very same effect that follows the outcome ratio of all 38 numbers coming out once per 38 times, as longer and longer periods go by; will indeed occur; they won't listen to you, and they won't believe you. This is because it demonstrates an inherent power or said maybe more politely, an ability, for any ordinary citizen without any real-world power, but enough knowledge concerning this secret, along with a five thousand dollar top of the line computer; to literally do things that no law can even think about addressing, at least in present times. Said more simply, someone who believes and comes to understand this truth, can literally take over the nation, or even the planet, should that be their sincere desire, and they have a few believers and troops in their fold or click or mini-army, or whatever you may choose to label this. Why you ask me? Because with this being a true fact; three, or five, or ten people, can go into a gaming house and to the roulette area, and literally 'EFFECT THE OUTCOMES of the wheels, to some real degree, just as if the power of a cheated telekinesis was used, only it is no power, nor is it cheating, not really. Clark Kent said it all on that wonderful original 1950's Superman television show, “The only real power is the power of knowledge”! This was on that episode where those thugs and crooks were forcing that poor kidnapped swami to teach their wrestlers some various ways to injure other wrestlers by applying pressure on points of the body that are extra sensitive to the touch. That is true and real, and not just part of a fantasy show, and neither is it fantasy, what Mister Kent said to Jimmy Olson at the end of the show! Tiny secrets like this, are why I am able to defy the power of gravitation. Only in this past century or a little bit back into the prior one, did the general public even know the smallest truths about gravity, in so far as it is not something that pulls us downward towards the core of a planet or massive body, but actually is merely the bending and curving of the fabric of space itself, and Einstein called this Space-Time. Before these facts were accepted by the scientific community however, we all said space and time, and we were all walking around quite clueless. We still are. That is because only the absolute tiniest fraction of people on Earth, know about what some call Space-Time-Gravity, or what Morianity originally called it, (SPACE-TIME-MIND). Mind IS gravity. Mind is also a powerful part of Einsteins most famous formula, proving that we exist on a lighter or Astral-Plane (purgatory); and that we run out of energy eventually, after virtually limitless interactions there. Then we dream as soul divided by the speed of light squared, or MIND. Because I know this 100%, instead of 99.999999999999999999999999%, I am able to make myself weigh no more than a small feather inside of your pillows. Then I am able to will myself forward, as well as increase my velocity just like the great DEEDEE bird vultures do, using the so-called-pull of the planet from a high drop, and then repeating that procedure several times. Most people have no clue that these birds are able to reach air velocities of more than 200 MPH but nonetheless, it is absolutely true. So can I, and that is also absolutely the truth.

Well, if you insist on hearing it, I'll tell it. I am not giving out any details, but I am getting my medication through another pharmacy at the very far end of town, on the northern border area of Fort Pierce, near the Winn Dixie Plaza. When I drove over there late this goddamn morning I was completely assured, that there is no shortage of this medicine, and that Walgreen's is playing some kind of a game with me. I know that dirt bag Trump is behind this latest fiasco in my life, just as he has been tormenting and destroying my life now, ever since 1984; when I met a powerful lab-technician over at the office of that wild throat specialist doctor. Just why this is being done, is like that proverbial shortest answer being the correct one, in a majority of times. I was stopped in 1986 on my way out of dirt bag President Trump's Castle Casino in the summer time one day, and asked what method I use to choose my betting picks on the six outside roulette bets, and so I responded with total candor and told them it was a system that I call, PARALLEL-EVENT. Ever since that very day, I began getting air harassment, utility harassment, body death siege blows, and multiple other persecutions. It still goes on to this mother ******* day, and Trump is the author of my horrific nightmare. This week, his goddamn fixer-criminal lawyer is in big trouble with the ******* feds, and so he is using more siege on me, to lessen the woes of his pals! Ron Wirtz Senior, the Camden County, New Jersey ADA from the nineties, knows fully well that this is all the total and absolute truth, and I swear to it now under flag and country and to my great all mighty GODDESS SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE!!! So parallel event, right inside of three dimensions; fully connects into my casino woes, the death persecution on me ever since revealing the information to Trump's peeps, the lab-tech ESS-Traveler of 1984 that I fully believe some doppelganger of my daughter is possessing, to use an ancient word of description here; as well as a whole lot more stuff that we need not concern ourselves with at this precise point in non-Watergate time, “Senator” Kisser Jacobson!

The old world concept of possession, is replaced with more descriptive discussions here in Mountainpen's Morianity, and its basic fundamental subheading of the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY. When one of them from any possible parallel universe realm, goes to sleep, and dreams through one of us over here, and is able to take over in some small way, for some small amount of time, making them the dominant and we the recessant entity while this is occurring; Morianity then labels this parallel universe sleep-dreamer; a TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON. This number of '3' is a comparative numeration to the two other number types, since all sleep-dreamers are EXPLORATRONS. Normal dreamers are TYPE-1. Those such as myself who are onto these powerful and frightening truths, are TYPE-2. Then there are those entities from the various countless parallel realms, that use their abilities on a regular basis, and are part of a collective and joint effort to, if nothing else; play some monstrous game with the rest of us less fortunate and wise HUMANITY here on the Earth-Planet; and these entities are labeled by Mountainpen's Morianity as TYPE-3-EXP, or for short, T-3-E. This has all been previously blogged and discussed, and quite often over the past nearly thirteen solid years now! Do I believe that in some parallel world out of countless and virtually limitless amounts of them, there is a doppelganger of numerous folks here, that indeed has these wild and strange T3E abilities? Yes I absolutely do, people. I won't make any bones about it. If that makes you feel and think that the Mountainpen is just a crazy delusional lunatic with a zillion psychotic features, well then that's your business, and you're entitled to your opinions. I know ******* better. Do I believe that my daughter has a doppelganger (double) somewhere in the vast fifth dimensional hyperspace? You bet your cornfields and your ass that I do,. Lovely Annie Costner!!!!!!!!! I know that my day over there in Northeast Philadelphia, just off of Grant Avenue, at the Throat-Specialists Office, could not be real, unless this was all true and legitimate. Still, believe whatever you wish, me peeps, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So now we come to it. Can Patty Hollister's great mysterious Fascitar information from 1974, lead to the headquarters of this fantastic and unfathomable ESS (Exploratronic Supermind Society)? For that matter, lads and lassies; IS THERE any true origin or home (HQ) of the ESS? Dya see folks, just how this can build and build, even over shadowing the great pyramids of Giza eventually, yo? If this group is real, and think about it all for a second, since it is the only item that can literally answer every single question that has ever plagued the minds of the collective humanity for thousands and thousands of goddamn mother ******* years now; just how many questions could suddenly become thrust out of this new age, and new world, PANDORA'S BOX, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes for openers of all openers me people, yo; is there any true origin or place of hail or organized headquarters, to this wild and inconceivable group of I-Ching or Spirit-Travelers, that goes beyond the timeless Astral Plane of true existence (the purgatory)???????????????????????? Hey, we can go anywhere in goddess's mother ******* creation with this. For a quick example; was Jennifer Washburn 'overtaken' by a T3E just long enough to discourage me from showing-off my wild Crystal Lake Diner Rotisserie motion control, and aeronautic abilities, so as to prevent me from getting the necessary recognized attention, that would hopefully perhaps vindicate me and solve a lot of my persecution problems as the CHOSEN HUNTINGTON? You can rethink things that have no boundaries and no limits, BUT NOT in just three dimensions. We MUST FREAKING INCLUDE HYPERSPACE, or the parallel universes that make up an entire fifth dimensional STM fabric (Space-Time-Mind). If we eliminate this, then we all remain in the clueless darkness that HUMANITY HAS BEEN IN, EVER SINCE WE CRAWLED OUT OF THE MOTHER ******* SEAS, A VERY LONG WHILE BACK, YO!!!!

Well, I told you that I am using a new pharmacy, at least for now; and for this one medication, that totally and absolutely connects into the 1984 situation, with the Misses Mohr---it's not his problem throat doctor, as well as his wild lab-tech assistant who gave me the wild driving directions for getting there from the I-95 Highway, and of course the medical condition to start with, THAT WAS FORETOLD INSIDE MY MIND, and just as real and honest as any Biblical prophecies in the Holy Christian Bible, KJV or any other legitimate versions, yo yo yo yo!!!! Remember, it was in the middle autumn somewhere in 1982, approximately two thirds of a year before the event had actually occurred, and that voice non-audible but every bit as convincing, just spoke inside of me and said, “yo, just wait 'till the fourth day of next June, HA-HA-HA”! If I am lying, or making up any of these true tales and woes-wiz me's; then I hope the Almighty Goddess, SSJKK, burns me in HELL for all eternity, to use your backward ways of describing the tortures and torments that arise from angering this incredible entity that you may merely call, “GOD”. But back to the pharmacy and my major medication woes; me kind Blogaudians, yo! My stupid mother ******* psych place in Vero Beach, refused to alter my dosage strength. This makes absolutely no mother ******* sense at all. Literally, there is no rhyme nor reason for this doctor and this place to behave in that manner, and they call themselves, a behavioral health clinic? They had me so up set this morning, that I almost lost my mind. I even dialed 911 and asked how I can go about reporting ELDER-ABUSE! I even faked out like I was crying and unable to properly breathe. If I did not do this, I would be WITHOUT MY NECESSARY MOTHER ******* MEDICATION, and I have done nothing to deserve this monstrous mother ******* horrible situation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now you all know why I plan to leave this horrible mother ******* EVIL EMPIRE, FEE-FREE, or 'WHATEVER CONGREE'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Less than 24 months to go, and when I hit mother ******* age 66 years, on December the fourth of 2020, I AM SO MOTHER ******* TURD SWALLOWING 'ADDDAHERE'; MISTER BASEBALL HARRY KALLIS, YO YO YO YO YO! Don't get too damn excited now Mister Dice, and dude who murdered him. Right, sure, no connection whatsoever to my old 1980 red-light gun slinging record-promoter MISTER LENNY MCKINNON, HA-HA-HA, and I have a mother ******* lovely bridge to sell you in Brooklyn, New York; late disco diva Donna, with your golden chains, and motorcycle boy toy, of all great fantastic unknown tunes everywhere. How would Mister 1971 Mike McNulty put it right about mother ******* now, yo yo yo yo yo; AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!!!!!

THIS TRAnsdimensional TRANSMISSION NOW ENDS!

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Thursday, December 27, 2018

BLOG 91 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

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