'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
RED
ALERT---RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
ALERT---RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
ALERT---RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
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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!!!!!!!!!!!!
THE END.
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