'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
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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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