SATURDAY,
DECEMBER 29, 2018
10:24
POST MERIDIAN
BLOG
93 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
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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 demonic 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 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 the 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 illustrious and perhaps famous
by now thanx-2-Morianity, HIGHVIEW APARTMENTS
at the Sicklerville Road and Kent Street 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 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 now after reexamining all of my
life story now for half of a goddamn decade 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
appropriatly five weeks of time. But folks, then came DREAM #3, on
the n ight of eleven July, in 1997! But B4 we examine all of this
even closer, I know totally believe and would swear to my beliefs in
a court of law if need by, that the 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 allof 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, 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 ATLANTIC CITY HEADQUARTERS FOR THE STATE POLICE,
instead of it being over at the Harrah
Marina area at the
Bay Casino, 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
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 stuff 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 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, with or without any coffee
being served, or perpetual ways to win or lose this game, Mister cool
advertisers out there! Oh 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,
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 this 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 your ears, that it is 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; “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 MacAndrews &
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 th emachine 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, l;ate 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 just 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
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“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!!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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!!!!
-------------------------||-------------------------
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!
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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.
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
***********************************
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:
RED
ALERT RED ALERT
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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.
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
DOGTOWNITE, AND
THIS
HUMAN-HYBRID, IS SIGNING OFF.
Blood
type---A
neg. Eye
color---green-hazel
-------END
TRANSMISSION-------
ENDLESSNESS
AND END TRANSdimensional!
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