SATURDAY,
JANUARY 5, 2019
7:40
POST MERIDIAN
BLOG
3 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
I
awoke today to some really weird mother fucking shit, kind Sheriff
Mascara, sir, yo! I went into my fucking kitchen to take my
medication, and POWERHOUSE-POW, Mister Spellchecker; MY KITCHEN HAD
DIRTY WATER IN IT. Some mother fucker has fucking screwed with my
drainage AGAIN here in this wovewee fucking cunt eating PUBLIC
HOUSING ENEMY RIDDLED AUTHORITY, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!! I dumped
a quarter of a bottle of dishwashing liquid into the mess and added a
ton of boiling hot water, and it has all drained away, FOR NOW,
SHERIFF SIR, but when I went to bed around noon, sir, there was
absolutely nothing wrong, and my sink was bone dry empty and totally
fucking cunt cleaner than a damn ass whistle, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo, American Civil Liberties Union
(ACLU)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
©
BOM, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2014
theansweristheqyuestion
http:/theansweristheqyuestioncontinued.com
© 2006-2019
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Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can
honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or
have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through
hyperspace, with awareness. Fun is replaced
with 'intense'.
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You forgot your mom's
birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?
at the risk of sounding
negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of is that you cannot
be sure of anything. Sorry for my rotten bad
attitude, gorgeous Twinbay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mark Wayne 'Mountainpen Huntington' Mohr
Contact
me
On
Blogger since December 2011
As
of 2011, Profile views – 500
I
am very proud of my Huntington family!
DECEMBER
25, 2014,
THURSDAY
AFTERNOON AT 1:32,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 69 DEGREES FNHT.
Humidity
is 51%, feeling 69.
TODAY'S
TEMPERATURE RANGE: (H-76/L-52)
WIND
IS WSW AT 6, WITH GUSTS AT 27.
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Audience |
She
told me she is always watching me and never told me she was the
goddess
of Lightning.
We are leaving this right here for right now, lovely LOO-HEARTS, you
go girl, and hey Letty-girl, choo up to YO??? Who she, you ask, well;
lovely Diana Arteemis, the goddess of lightning? In a higher reality
and truth, she
is giant coil of unbelievable pure colorful energy.
I love her so much, I die inside every single day that I must live in
a physical body & away from the love of my eternal rotten lousy
life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The first time she
allowed me to remember her as this awesome coil, was late spring or
early summer time in 1984, while
residing at 506 Robin Hill Apartments, in Voorhees township, New
Jersey.
The smallest pin prick on the world map above would be larger than
Voorhees, most likely, WOW, and WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
This
may sound shocking, but I would not trade places with anyone of you
who don't have my problems and hell, not a one, not for a dam minute,
and here's why. I couldn't live for an entire minute, all dumbed down
and blind to shit all around me. I would actually rather be suffering
in my eternal fucking hell!!!!!!!!!! Also, and in reiteration; THERE
IS NO WAY TOM REALE IN JULY OF 1970 WOULD HAVE BEEN THAT UPSET THAT
NIGHT OF THE FIREWORKS, IF HE WAS NOT ALL PART OF WHAT HAPPENED THE
YEAR BEFORE THAT, AND WAS NOT ALSO A MEMBER OF THE (GAP-ESS) OR THE
'GREAT AND POWERFUL EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY'!!!!!!!!!!!
And
speaking of those days and times of my residing at the Robin Hill
Apartments, at #506, Nonwaterhosedreams and
Nonchrisblumof501; this is where I was living when I
went to that wild THROAT SPECIALISTS OFFICE and somehow,
Mister Childress and Professor Kaku of NYU,
lost my entire memory, then, as well as
to this very day; of the return drive back home to that address, from
Grant Avenue in Northeast Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania!!!!!!!!!! Let us discuss some more about this,
since some mother fucking bastard thinks it so cunt eating eternally
funny to fuck with my goddamn ass kitchen sink, Mister Rump!!!!!!!
Yes, 'let us keep our DAMN JOBS',
Detective L&O Green, and U.S.
© Examiners of 2007!!!!
WHAAAAA-HA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MISTER MCN!
Not
until very late last year, did I start putting together all of the
stuff I have enjoyed watching and learning about on those totally ass
marvelous television educational cable channels such as PBS, History
Channel, and Science Channel, pertaining to the AAT and their ideas
and concepts on ALIENS & UFOLOGY.
Hey, I do not agree with the aliens, and physical ships junk, where
they supposedly have a home base somewhere in this hypersphere
expansion that we call the universe. I have
other knowledge and experiences, and they have all been told about
and blogged for thirteen mother fucking years now since January
of 2006, yo. There are no secrets in Morianity. Mountainpen is
not writing a book of secrets, nor is this some type of spin off that
many have labeled and so told me, A dream blog, an occult blog, an
Atlantic City blog, or a Mariah Carey blog. I am merely quoting what
some have spoken to me over this thirteen year period, or maybe ten
year period for that last item, from a couple of persons who I
believe are global traveling secret agents of the United States of
America, and hey, I have been right before, and I have been not so
right B4, yo!!!! Let us get back on Archibald Bunkerqueens 'pernt'
now folks, and further discuss the day in 1984 that I drove over to
Philly and the Throat Specialists Office. TEE-HEE-HEE!!!!
Many
people are involved in this matter, and the United
States government as well as global
powers, ALL FULLY KNOW IT!!! Just as they are covering
up what is happening to the populations of this Earth Planet,
in an extremely huge and bizarre conspiracy, on matters that the AAT
folks talk about, they ALSO are totally
blocking the MORIANITY story from ever seeing the light of day in any
real and meaningful way, you know, my blog going viral, or
some such similar thing. I learned first hand
when I tried using SOCIAL
MEDIA,
in the opening part of this present time decade, to do just that;
THAT I AM IN NO WAY PARANOID OR IMAGING ANY OF THIS 'ARTHUR CRANE
STUFF', ABOUT ME BEING TOTALLY AND
100% STIFLED, YO!!!!
There
was a weird radio, along with many extremely expensive
electronic and musical devices, that were in
this 'HOUSE OF NAKEDNESS', as I've come to label it as, for
obvious reasons. No one was wearing anything but their birthday
suits. Also, various peeps of authority would be inside of this
place, mostly police lieutenants or captains, in various interactions
that I would come to experience through the years, in what
you all insist on calling DREAMS.
And yes, just as here in waking life, I was always disliked, and I
could feel the tension and the anger, from many of the people who
were in authority; as if I was some really bad
person who had just made the damn ass FBI's most wanted list or
something. Then around the early years of this present century
or close to two decades later after this return trip from my
doctor on that 1984 afternoon in Philly, PAULA
KING would appear to me right near her WAYV-RADIO
STATION, and not to tell me or any of my fellow Hammonton, New
Jersey citizens, to hang in there during any wildfires, BUTTTTTTTTT,
and I said 'BIG
ASS' BUTTTTTTTTT FOLKS; just as I
said over and over back in my 2006 and 2007 blogs; and no,
this is not a MC-BLOG, BUTTTTTTTTT
it may appear to be from time to time; but yes the letter D
is NOT B4 the letter B, and just as the
letter G is NOT B4 the letter D,
nor is the number 2009 B4 the numbers of
2006 or 2007;
Mister WHAAAAHA-AHA-AHA 1971 Mike Church Farm
School McNulty, and the great
Copyright Examiners know it, or KNEW
IT, some time back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, the
mighty and outlandish Paula King would
appear to me in Atlantic City,
and right near her mighty radio station,
that she has used to tease me, play with me, screw with me, and
reveal multiple messages to me, kind Professor Kaku sir, and Mister
New-age-author David Childress, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, I AM INDEED A
HANGING IN THERE HUNTINGTON FROM HAMMONTON, LOVELY SUPER GODDESS
PAULA, and I do not want to marry you, not then, not now, at least
not in your persona as PK, but in your other persona as PH, I did.
BUTTTTTTTTT, I suppose as you said so perfectly, I was just way too
damn ass immature, so WEEEEEEEE!
Still,
my Morians/Blogaudians, yo; she in some parallel world in hyperspace,
or in these recurring dreams ever since early in this present century
times, continues to tell me that she wants me to get her that radio
from that unfathomable house of nakedness from 1984. The house of
radios, electronics, musical amplifiers, and yes, naughtiness and
nakedness, not to mention lots of police presence and by the way,
they are always in full uniform, just as I am always fully clothed,
and always trying to be and act my part as the perfect gentlemen.
Even the mighty DAWN-MARIE KING, used to
tell me that I always acted the part of a perfect gentlemen, when I
would transport her female friends to various places. That's me
folks, the endlessly misunderstood and persecuted
'perfect-gentleman'. WEEEEEEE!
But about this strange radio. It seemed to be a tachyon-radio, and it
was able to pick up signals that were not yet broadcast; since it was
able to tune into distant points out in 'the expansion' or
(outer-space), and in the antimatter realms, where time is of course
running in total reverse to what it does here when the polarities of
subatomic particles are running, by our frame of reference anyway, in
FORWARD-mode! She told me in the summer time of
last year, 2018, in one of these powerhouse dreams, that if I didn't
get her that radio, she would take me back to the hotel
balcony in the year of 1967,
and this time, THROW ME OFF OF IT FOR
REALE. Maybe I should have said, for real, but I
just couldn't resist the garden of Eden 'temptation' to add the damn
letter-E; oh great U.S. © Office.
Mortimer Mortino the Death Angel is passing by my right side as I
type these words now, at precisely 8:55 Post Meridian on this early
middle Saturday evening, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But then folks,
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD, or same old same old, what else is new, same shit
different day????????? Aniwho, just exactly why Patty/Paula wants me
to get her this wild tachyon radio, I of course am totally clueless
to, as always. All of the things that this wild Exploratronic
Supermind entity does, is inconceivable and unimaginable. Trying to
figure out any goddamn woman is difficult as all men fully are aware
of, BUTTTTTTTTT Patty/Paula? Well, that is a recipe for disaster and
a migraine headache combination that I don't need, Mizz
Ross-Ness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAA! Patty-Paula has somehow fucking
hacked my Personal Computer (PC) and it won't allow me to mother
fucking make a new line,so I'll have to do it another mother fucking
way, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!
HA-HA-HA
PATTY-PAULA, LIGHT UP SOME CANDLES FOR ME NOW, AND TELL MISTER COOLEY
HALL HIGH HELLapukeyuk HELL that I said, OHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM! And
pweeeeeeeeze don't fucking shoot poor old twisted diseased piano
playing Mister Marcucci, Yellow Brick Road Traveler Mister EJ, or
poor whittle fucking me, the pathetic and Non-Ronstadt pitiful
Mountainpen that is AKA ME, MARK WAYNE MOHR, of non BUTTERCHEESE Bryn
Mawr, non Starburn, Pennsylvania! WOW, all
Joann persons everywhere, from
hookers to recording studio employees. YES
FWOLKS, I weelwee fucking wish that my brain allowed me to forget
things, only IT DOES NOT,
not fucking cunt ass ever, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
NO
STAIR CHASES TODAY, M.C.
END
TWANSMISSION, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!
THIS
DOGTOWNITE, AND
THIS
HUMAN-HYBRID, IS SIGNING OFF.
Blood
type---A
neg. Eye
color---green-hazel
END
TRANSMISSION
END
TRANSMISSION
END
TRANSMISSION
END
TRANSMISSION
FRIDAY,
JANUARY 4, 2019
9:57
ANTE' MERIDIAN
BLOG
2 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
FEELING
CLOSE TO 90 THESE DAYS:
It
is ungodly mother fucking HOT!!!!!! Life totally sucks,
and this demonic heat is total goddamn murder on quintessential
steroids. This middle eighties shit in
late December and early
January, totally blows and sucks rooster turds. Every time the
weather is wild and ridiculous, and
having shit this hot even in my area, is the epitome of Camp
Chesapeake, and Mack Kaiter the camp
counselor. I have observed all my damn ass life, when it is either
ungodly hot or cold, or when there are super snow blizzards when I
lived up north long ago; this is always when the shit in my life
would follow suit. Nothing ever changes for the goddamn snot puffing
Mountainpen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not ever!!!!
When
those famous and terrific agents, mentioned in that wild and cool
television show, on New York City's WPIX-Channel-11,
back in 1988;
Agents Condor
and Agent Falcon,
told their story on that fantastic documentary; it
took me three solid decades to realize that the
topic of UFOLOGY, misunderstood as it may be by the Earth
Planet population, as of early in 2019; is indeed what is behind all
of my woes, and all of my so many outlandish
and mysterious people who have made 'contact'
with me, in one way or form, or another; for my entire life.
Patty Hollister may have been the main
character, or Paula King, or whoever or whatever we may wish
to call her; and along with these whittle pirate facts and
“YARRRRRRR's”, and buckin'
fuckin' pirate hats, yes I still am wondering how Patty and her pal
Santa are doing these goddamn days, yo????? You know, I actually had
people ask me to have 'him' place them on his 'NICE-LIST', after the
day he helped me move from apartment to apartment, back on March
first, in the year of 1975. I am sure it was
done jokingly, Misses Pennock; but still, Lenny; and all
Lenny's for that matter; I think some people were truly wondering a
whole lot of fucking shit about me, way back then. Hey, don't fucking
feel bad. I was wondering about myself, Mister
Rod Serling,
yo! After-all, you tormented me
with your sick demented evil WAYV
radio station; oh mighty
Patty-Paula????? For those who may be unaware of all of
the fucking nightmarish circumstances involved here; David Roth and I
would have many serious talks over a totally fucking 'Ed
Snowed In'
bugged up telephone, Mister
BLUE-NUNNGEN; and he would always joke about that exact
song, “Feel Real”, and how as
he put it so crudely, Thomas J. Reale of Ventnor, and Northfield,
New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; molested me back when I was fifteen years
fucking old, at his home that he sold to the
ACMUA
waterworks of Atlantic City, on Cornwall Avenue, back
in July of 1970. There is a
connection and a message, built into every single event in the entire
universe and multiverse. We literally cannot escape that reality,
hard as any of us may wish to make such a fucking attempt, and
IPYT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All that mother
fucking bullshit casino
teasing and harassment,
it was PAULA
AND DADDY JOHN
KING
behind all of it, the entire mother fucking dirtbag time,
yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
why do we choose (in our spirit),
to explore the various parallel doppelgangers (doubles) of ourselves,
in the virtually limitless fifth dimensional hyperspace? To answer
that, we first need to examine more down to Earth similarities.
Exactly why do we all make the many multiple choices (in waking life)
that we do? You know, where to go or to stay inside on any given day,
why we call a friend, or don't, why we post this up or that up on
social media, for the majority of social media users out there, why
we choose to pursue a potential mate, apply for a particular job, and
the list goes on endlessly, and all of it on some kind of a precise
time schedule. After-all, if we look back at our life in any given
day or week or month or what have you, you can see that a hindsight
view will always reflect the reality of being literally a part of
some gargantuan sized cosmic program of virtually limitless options
and menu choices, a second at a time, from womb to tomb. So
are these potential waking life decision options, a sort of
reflection or similarity of some kind, to the decisions that our
spirit or dreaming-mind travels to, and 'dreams through'? Put
very simply and parochially here, while awake, Joe Shmo may
say to himself, should I go out and take a walk on the damn beach
today, or not, since it is cloudy, and I don't want to be caught
outside in the rain? Then that night after falling into his bed, and
he drifts away from his consciousness to this waking reality; is the
very same process of decisions, following him and instructing him to
dream-travel into this or that, for some particular reason? The
answer is an unequivocal YES, kind folks. Our truer or higher
self, is indeed some amount of pure energy, that goes onto become
that 'brain-activity', that your matter-mind permits a connection
into the physical material world, from. So absolutely, just as we
operate with conscious lower self mind in the world of awake-ness, we
likewise operate quite similarly when we travel the hyperspace in
spirit, or 'sleep and dream'. But as we
make our so-called 'free-will' decisions in waking world life, and
this same mind-brain system is doing likewise in our nocturnal
existence, just how truly free is FREE
WILL? You may think that YOU made the decision, you know,
to quote the old song perfectly here, should
I stay or should I go, or should I do this or that, or
not, or whatever; but what is finally actually MAKING
YOU or CAUSING YOU, to arrive at
a selection/decision? You may think that this is your free will, but
it is just like deciding what you are going TO DREAM ABOUT! How
many liars out here want to try and feed me the epitome of bullshit,
and tell me that they can dream anything that they want to, and
control it like it is some super great future VR-program? And
for that matter, what then is really happening in a so-called virtual
reality program, where you can enter a computer generated reality,
and control the entire thing? Carl Sagan said
it so perfectly to the great 99th
Congress, on a televised show that I happen to see one night, while
living at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments. We can now, “Up
it one dimension”. Whose VR-PROGRAM are we in while we
believe our self to be awake, and for that matter, when we believe
our self to be asleep? Anyone who believes literally, that someone
somewhere has a gigantic computer, and that we are all inside of its
program, is a true fruitcake. The truth is that even though this is
not the exact case and point right down to the nth degree, the effect
and the result is that it may as well be as if this was what is going
on. I know for a fact that there are Astral
Plane gods and goddesses,
that the AAT clubbers call the aliens, and that the religious people
call the angels, the demons, and Satan and God. I know for a fact
that the PLANK-TIME is reality, and all of this is a powerful dream
where we fall off of that reality when we get so low in energy that
we need to refuel or regain a new supply. There is just enough drag
in the Purgatory to cause this slow drain due to the slightest amount
of weight that this Astral or spiritual realm contains. It may be a
zillion-zillion-zillionths of a microsecond long and be a
zillion-zillion-zillionths of the size of a grain of sand, but as we
exist there, we too are this much tinier, and in fact, our comparison
is virtually limitless times this in ratio, as we are much smaller in
this ratio, and our entire universe appears to be the size of a pea
in comparison while we exist there. Also, no one is experimenting
with humanity, no one has plans for us, good or bad, and the entire
thing is a game. We love games because
we are in the image of these
energy-entities (GODS/GODDESSES), and
they love games, but they love
games because to them, it is the ultimate and extremely necessary
distraction. This distraction is to keep them from dwelling and
reflecting on the reality that dogs all of us existors/Purgatites,
and that is ABSOLUTE ENDLESSNESS!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
news last night had an item that I'll admit, is blowing my mother
fucking mind. Let me start with the story on my end of the stick, and
then, I'll tie in this news item. Practically every Blogaudian out
here will be amazed at this tale. I made a miscalculation regarding
my anti-poverty plan, and told how Starburn
Outreach Development Incorporated, or STARBURNODI
for short, is a plan to eventually eradicate poverty out of the
United States, and I misstated the financial objective and goal that
is necessary to begin putting this incredible business plan into
action, saying it would requite an amassing of ten trillion dollars,
(USD). In fact, the amount is closer to half of this, and I have made
an error on my paperwork. But I have the entire plan written down, so
that anyone who would ever view it, would see that I just screwed up
and thought I would need ten rather than about half of this amount.
When I went out to my nut-job clinic last week, I believe that
someone was in here, and saw these notes that I have written down in
scribble form. I absolutely feel that these notes were viewed. Last
night on the international and local news, a man was arrested in Palm
Beach for breaking into Trump's Mara-logo Estate. He was insisting on
talking to Trump about this exact same amount of money. I find this
astonishing and beyond even my typical outlandish twilight zonish
life's experience! WOW-JOANN-A!
Last
night on that great “L&O” show that is very hard to see on TV
any more, I saw that episode from early this century, called, “Whose
Monkey Is It anyway”? I am in the mood to add my little
bit of spin about several things, and one of them pertains 100
percent to this episode. I totally believe that extremely evil
criminals who are incarcerated for terrible crimes, SHOULD
BE IN LAB-RAT-PRISON. I feel that they should have to submit
to medical research. Forget death penalties, or torture or pain for
pain's sake; as that is unconstitutional. Still, to make up for the
horrible fucking shit that these beyond evil monsters do the
innocent, I believe that they should have to do this, and if they
croak, well, fuck you, then you croak. I don't disagree with many
many things that my distant-cuzz Donald believes. I am not a
Republican, nor am I a Democrat. I am split about down the damn
middle, agreeing and disagreeing with about half of the shit that
both of these parties are for. Here is a way to really get even with
those who hurt us and laugh at us, and not violate the constitution.
Many things need to be tested out, and no better people are there
than them, for just that purpose. WHAAAAA!
When
I went out to pay me rent earlier today, I had a very strange event
happen to me, AGAIN,
as my middle name as we all know is HUNTINGTON
TWILIGHT
ZONE!
I rode down the damn elevator with a lady and her little CHI-DOG, and
everything was fine. But after I paid the rent, this same lady was
again right there, and just as she was walking into the gate of this
building, I was driving into it. As I opened the door for her to the
lobby entrance, the dog suddenly tried to attack me, and nearly bit
my right leg. That would have been a lawsuit,
but the only problem is, what lawsuit? Nobody here has a penny, just
like me. The only mother fucking suit would be the one that IS NOT
hanging up in my whittle fwucking cwoset, Mister goddamn Elmer
Fwudd!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAA! Still, why was her dog so nice to me ten
minutes earlier, and then pow, out of
nowhere, the little fucking bastard wanted a chunk of my leg? Reminds
me of Jim Burr's
dog, and the Cifaloglio dog,
WHOOLIO-JULY. All
loyal fucking Blogaudians know these true tales from
Nightmare Grove!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION, and AHA-AHA-AHA!
I've
got fucking roaches all over the goddamn apartment no matter how much
I spray the RAID or how clean I
keep the place. I have the ILLEGAL GUESTS
around here slamming the goddamn fucking doors today, kind Sheriff,
sir. It's more fucking fun around here than Alice
Ciminelli, and her barrel of jail
bird American Honda guardhouse conversations, sent
to the U.S. Copyright Office, on 1988's Valentine's Day
monkeys!!!!!!!!!!!!! I believe that I
have been hit with another health assault on top of this, Sheriff.
Another horrible fucking year is beginning for me, oh wonderful kind
sir!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, my heavenly and marvelous life, measured by the
standards of anti-matter, is just making me so thankful and
appreciative of the blessings that flow from such a wonderful fucking
GODDESS, who sends songs in my sleep that altered my life, and so
many grand and glorious fucking things! So
thanks a lot, Almighty Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Karge Krassle, Sheriff
K.J.M., and “thanks
a lot, DAVE”!!!!!!!!!!!
YARRRRRR, Patty Hollister, maybe me buckin' hat's on crooked or
something. WOW-THAT!!!!
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Yes
folks, we can definitely call that my
Mountainpen's
Morianity
Quotation
or (MMQ) or anything else you may wish
to, as this won't alter the following truth: When the famous and
terrific agents, mentioned in that wild and cool report-documentary
on New York City's
WPIX-Channel-11-television show,
back in 1988
non-Spellchecker monkeys; Agents Condor
and Agent Falcon,
said that people who open up their mouth, and say things that are
not allowed to be said; those people will not be able to get a moment
of peace for the rest of their lives; how does this then fit into
those who were on the receiving end of all of this horrible monstrous
mother fucking turd swallowing junk, LONG
BEFORE they
ever uttered a single goddamn word?
THAT, oh great SIR ROCKDROID of the original STAR TREK SHOW, is the
real Shakespearean query of the ages, on kind peeps and loyal
Blogaudians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes THAT
is the question, Mister Bill
Shakespeare, YO!
How
I'll never ever fucking forget, ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, telling me how
all of my damn answers to all of this nasty-ass mess; lays in the
town of Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Right after he told me this
incredible fucking shit, kind Sheriff KJM sir, POW, “My
goddess non son of Sam girlfriend”, came over to my apartment and
raped me, and this led to the
miscarriage of my younger daut, PEE!
And then there was the wild dream a few years afterward, where
I was back at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments,
and Paula
came over to visit with me and tell me
how I was too immature and that she refused to marry me, and that she
had recently miscarried our child PEE. This
is how transdimensional hyperspace works.
We cannot go getting ourselves all fucking hung up on minor whittle
details such as an event happening in one universe and not happening
in another one that lies in localized hyperspace. No Spellchecker,
the hypERCHRIST
has absolutely nothing to do with any of this, OR
DOES IT, come to reflect on it
heredahelda and here, kind folks!!! I mean for crissake, it isn't
every day that I am stopped and searched like a criminal by the
authorities, for just sitting and telling a man about something from
my childhood. But it sure happened that particular day in Medford
Lakes, in the springtime of 1986. Maybe
this is why the satanic demons of hellfire itself, struck Dave Roth
and me so very hard, as after-all, it
was directly following all of this,
along with a tiny whittle detour through another Mister
Rod Serling's Twilight Zone; called
that special talk that took place in the
spring time in the following year of 1986, at the Medport
Diner, in Medford Lakes, New
Jersey; regarding the “Great Sarah
Krassle”.
Along with these whittle pirate facts and YARRRRRRR's, and buckin'
fuckin' pirate hats, I am wondering how Patty and her pal Santa are
doing these goddamn days, yo????????????? But then, like who gives a
fucking shit, to quote the kids who cuss?! Alligators or ALL I'M
SAYING is that long B4I ever had a blog, or even shot off my mouth on
RED-LINE-CROSSOVER
topics, or said boo about shit; I have been given a no-peace
persecution by these monstrous evil
mother fucking HALLS-FAWCES. So it is
not like anyone out here can go screaming into my ear, “Hey
Mountainpen, this is all your own fault”, as my kid did about
alligators, when I complained about all of these horrible things all
over this place, and she said that I had made my bed and must now lay
in it. Hey, she's totally right. Still,
was this all my fault for real? Was this all my fault for REALE, for
that matter? Was it me who teased you or
you who teased me, every mother fucking time that I came down in 1997
to try and relax on the beach, and you
tormented me with your sick demented evil WAYV
radio station, oh
mighty Patty-Paula?????????
WOW
THISssssssssssssssssssssssssssss, Mizz Susan Erica AMC Snakes from
1983. Yes, Patty-Paula may very well be Sarah Krassle, or
spelled with a fuller ASTRAL-PLANE name, SARAH-STACEY
JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE. Yes there is pure magic in this
incredible entity named Sarah Krassle
Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah
Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle!
Why
go to so much trouble doing al of these things, beginning with Misses
Cooley Hall High Hell Marola, on Memorial Day of 1969, May 30th,
and going all the way so far, up to the stunt pulled in waking life
while I was at my non-choker Darius Evans Cifaloglio security job in
2009, two years before the transdimensional-choking deal, and right
around the Lakehouse-choking deal, but yes, always (choking-1983
deals); with that WAYV magical stunt she pulled on me with the Regis
Threat and magically getting me to tune into it from my car while on
that job. Things like this JUST DON'T HAPPEN,
not in any real life or real world, and not with this sort of endless
fucking repetitiveness; and I know that you all know that, and
I'm not being WAYV-cute heredahelda and
HERE, yo! There was a night a few years earlier where I was at my
trailer, #10 at the great and illustrious Mullica Mobile Manor of
Mullica Township, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; and watching one of those
two famous magicians on television. I forget whether it was Blaine or
Copperfield, but it was one of the David's. Tee-Hee-Hee. He told
everyone out in the TV audience to think of a card. We
all did, and HE GUESSED IT;
and that would be a one in fifty-two chance; and I don't buy into
chances, or long shots like that. Yes longer shots than this do
indeed happen, and with more frequency than we all might think would
be the case, BUTTTTTTTTT folks, I know that he did something, and I
know that night at Cifaloglio with Patty-Paula, that she did that
very same 'something'; and then things happened. Just because
I am unable to properly explain it, I STILL AM
ABLE TO FULLY REPORT IT to the goddamn mother fucking world, yo,
and you can bet I do, and will go right on screaming out my pain.
This monster and all of her FAWCES are behind it.
END
TRANSMISSION
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