LEGAL DYING DECLARATION OF DECEMBER 6, 2019

LEGAL DYING DECLARATION OF DECEMBER 6, 2019

When I am found dead in this apartment at 601 Avenue B, unit #607, I WAS MURDERED by President Donald Trump and his Atlantic City Washcloth from hell family, and his henchmen and cronies who have all done his bidding to destroy me, since the nineteen seventies and eighties. This is my sworn legal oath and dying utterance, sworn now on this blog at 8:17 P.M., 6 December, 2019, on Friday night, after having the most horrible three days and nights of my ENTIRE 65 YEARS OF LIFE ON THE EARTH-PLANET! I hereby duly swear, affirm, and attest to this as the absolute truth, so help me Goddess Jehovah Scylla, the owner of the entire metaverse.

At around seven or so this evening, the QVC-3 Networked harassed me illegally, and insisted on remaining on my system, and not allowing me to get back onto channel 165 to watch the “Law & Order” show. I tried reboots and nothing worked, and had to call COMCAST. I screamed and yelled and tried to resolve two issues, this one as well as the issue with my canceled e-mail service. At least I was able to learn exactly what had happened to my account. It seems that when I changed my account over to some new package, they wiped out my e-mail account and never bothered to give me any info about it. I am a loyal customer for many years who pays a large monthly piece of freight for their package for my TV-phone-internet services, and things such as endless freezes, hacks, weird shit of all kinds, and this e-mail disaster, are still done to me. I did not give them a very good rating on the survey call back, either, kind Sheriff Mascara, sir! Yes I had two monstrously horrible days with neighbor noise that would be in the classification of living in a ground zero war zone, and then today, I get a major TV interruption with that criminal hacking QVC-3 Network, followed by major shouting on the phone to help me with my service. During the first call, after things began going well, and after the agent promised to call me back should we become disconnected, we did get disconnected, only SHE DID NOT call back. Of course when I called back, I was even madder than before, and things just progressed negatively from there. They were assuring me that my new e-mail would work, only it WON'T, and we tried and tried and I did everything that I was told by the second agent on this very computer, but it won't mother fucking work, SHERIFF MASCARA. So now on Monday evening, a technician will be coming out to assist me with blocking the two channels that this evil QVC NETWORK comes on and that somehow they can use to interfere with my watching other channels, and also to get my damn fucking electronic mail working! Some fucking prick is slamming doors over and over right now at 8:30 tonight, and I just got a nasty loud fire alarm as soon as I hung up from speaking to the Comcast Agent. This is the worst cunt huffing persecution that I've been under since the middle and late mother fuckign nineteen-eighties when this shit all began. Yesterday during all the other bullshit, the fucking township harassed me intentionally and I know it, with that stupid loud fucking nuke-plant siren bull horn shit. They just did it five weeks or so ago and they are only supposed to activate that fucking ass stupid alarm quarterly, and not 'quintaweekly'. Also the mother fucking Palm Beach TV stations always used to give a heads up that this was going to be scheduled for the following day, abnd they no longer do this, and I'm sure they HAVE BEEN INSTRUCTED NOT TO GIVE A HEADS UP ANY MORE. Anything at al that these pricks can do to endlessly fuckign cunt upset me, they will do, and this has gone on now with an unfathomable vengeance ever since 15 August of 1986.

Well Barnabas Collins, to quote you so wonderfully old pal, they gave me no choice, and so I will tell the entire story about my VOICES and my KFP, my exact plans, Timeless Satellite and how that fits in, and even the notes I left for the Satellite-residents to find me from the future and come back here for me, huh Dock Sagan, only long before you even thought about sending that silly phono-record into deep space. I believe they did get it and they did find me, and I knew this a long time ago because things started fitting together in such unfathomable ways. Patty Hollister said it all one day when she was discussing eating some magical green plant leafs that she had, and ever since then and ever since several other things where she gave me a package that I had kept parts of right up until the day that I left Jersey, as well as the weird and beyond crazy odds of my having certain other cassette tapes when I came down to Florida that I had no intentions whatsoever of bringing, but they needed to come down here, and so, they did. I only believed that it was Irene Cara that I used in that mixed square wave experime4nt because of several things that happened that made me remember things wrongly. I can show anyone just how fragile the human memory system on the conscious level truly is, as well as how susceptible we all are especially when feelings and emotions play a dual role in the mix, of just how we choose and pick certain things to keep in a stored memory track. We are not tape recorders. We have memories that work nothing at all like a straight line of a sound recording or even a movie. Reality in truth, is not a straight line, and it never was nor will it be. So when I tell some wild shit, it will do a lot more than just explain some off the wall electronic wizardry, but rather, how memory and even time itself is not what any of us think it is at all. It will go so far in fact as to prove why it is not far fetched at all to be able to 'time travel', not physically, but in a way far better. Would we not really rather be able to travel around and explore outer space without using our physical bodies, exposing them to the horrendous dangers of extreme cold and heat as well as airless vacuum conditions and poisonous radiations all over at intense levels? If we could rather just GO without going, do without DOING, even BE without being, and TIME and our MIND is all a part of this entire deal, right down to why I am fucking able to defy the normal laws of motion. None of you will ever mother fucking know the incredible feeling of flying through the cunt eating air or just zipping along in the water without swimming or using any motorized or wind assisted gadgets. I have told how incredible it is to hear the wind whipping by you, since without any of those things, you hear the air around you quite differently. The feeling of following lane swimmers in a pool at Haddonwood such as my old gal-pal Joan back in 1995, and without doing anything other than stretching out my arms and thinking of moving forward to match her swimming speed. All of this and so much more is all tied into this entire deal. But in order to tell it all and it must be all told since the M2F is going to fuckign murder me and I must retaliate and counterstrike, but yes, some people might indeed get caught in some of the wake generated from my rip tides. Show me another way, NG-ADS and I'll mother fucking take it. Show me an alternative to this, Sheriff Ken Mascara sir, and I'll damn do it, IPYT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One of the huge key points in all of this is, believe it or not, the home in Mantua that I lived in from 15 October of 1979 through 30 April of 1980. While here, and yes Mister McCarthy sir, never aware of what was in THAT ATTIC either, other shit happened that all led up to what needed to be put into place for the great OUTER-HADDONFIELD-FARM that was going to be moved into after leaving this place and running away huh lovely Jenn? Well, if I want to survive, all great gymnasium dance music songs; I MUST, but unfortunately, things had to happen first. Well, they did. I am having wild nightmares that I am with the two Bush's, Daddy and Sonny Bush, along with Trump, and all three of us are in different places; and last night the dream was happening in full steroidal rage, and both my daughter and the great disco diva were in it, and we all were sitting at a concert as the dream was coming to an end, and the entertainer was Choker Darius. I will get into the HUGE MAJOR RED LINE CROSSOVERS, and tell the whole deal before next Tuesday, and as I said, they simply 'have left me no choice', oh great sir Mister Barnabas Collins. If I live until the census time, it may be time for me to come clean and discuss the washcloth deal as well. I was not planning to do it, but Barnabas said it all on that wild fantastic television show of the sixties, and I merely echo his words. After-all folks, where did choker Darius choke me in that parallel universe back in 2011, and just why did Darius over here in this world suddenly after that interaction, tell me that he wanted to come over to my apartment and help me with my posting of those songs onto a Youtube Account, as he has his account, going by artist, DEEZEE SLIM, almost as in January 10, 1990's Dizzy-DEE, huh Ron Wirtz, CCPO??????????

END TRANSMISSION.