MY
PERSONAL NOTES IN HELL-2020, NOTE 2
1:17
PM, THURSDAY, 11 JUNE, 2020
I
knew when I got out of bed yesterday that the day would most probably
go really fucking badly for me because of a super goddamn vivid dream
(hyperspace interaction) where again, I was back at Jenny Plageman's
Trailer Park in Mullica, NJUSAESMWG, and at my old #10 trailer, and
was even doing something that I've not done since those times spoken
of on many older blogs where the great world renown disco queen Mizz
Donna Summer teased me in one of her ending-eighties songs on her
album called, “Another Time and Place”.
I speak of the being in a major vivid dreaming experience back at the
Westmont apartment where I had grown up in until early into puberty
called Haddon Hills Apartments,
and thinking to myself as clearly as shit stinks and with full waking
world recall of my doing it, “Gee all the other times were just
dreams and wow, this time I know its for real, and I really am living
back in my own apartment again”, only of course I wasn't, and it
was all a goddamn wild lucid and very vivid dreaming experience. This
is the first time since the very early nineties where again, I was
not only back in a prior residence, but was consciously saying to
myself that same thing about realizing how many times before I was
only dreaming this thing, BUT THIS TIME, I KNOW IT'S FOR REAL, and
that was the part of the shit that Donna seemed so incredibly taken
with, along with of course my chemtrails problem, as a few bars later
on her song lyric, came the words, “I'll
write your name across the sky”. But fuck Donna because
this is only a needed foundation here before moving on, and the shit
that just happened extremely recently at Jenny's Trailer Park is the
present focus and topic of conversation for this writing, here in
middle 2020 year in time circa, yo! Still, I need to say this about
Donna due to my incredible shit with that Cifaloglio
“DOUBLE-INCIDENT” with the employees there that seemed to just
“HAVE TO DO CERTAIN THINGS” and it all then led me into an
awareness to the now fully grasped and yet was so goddamn elusive for
four straight decades of time, “Millie
Vanillie Lip-Synched song demos”
or maybe MVLSS DELMO'S
would say it all a bit more appropriately, when we factor in the
endless and seemingly all powerful JAMES
REDFIELD
(JRSS) SYNCHRONICITY
SYNDROME
here, yo BRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!! Only I can fully appreciate all of
this, and it was stupid as throwing away our only close pins when
stuck in a backed up sewage pipe, for me to EVER FUCKING CUNT BEGIN
TO THINK THAT I COULD MAKE ANYONE ELSE ON THIS PLANET EVER SEE OR
UNDERSTAND ALL OF MY INCREDIBLE LIFE'S HELL WITH ALL OF THIS DOGSHIT,
ALL OF THESE YEARS THAT RESULTED FROM THE NON-CHURCH YET AGAIN, THE
JRSS, I AM THE CHOSEN HUNTINGTON, I AM,
or really in cosmic decoded fashion, as the universe speaking
directly to me AND ONLY TO ME; (CHOSEN
HUNTINGTON-YOU ARE-CHOSEN HUNTINGTON), and when it is
abbreviated, thus becoming none other than CH-UR-CH
or CHURCH. People all over the world claim that this MORIANITY
is nothing but foolish or magical thinking from being a diagnosed
paranoid schizophrenic, but then WOW do I
remember great BIBLE PASSAGES that reflect to me this very same thing
that is needed here. You know, that “God's spiritual wisdom is
foolishness to mortal man, and to the ALMIGHTY, all of mans wisdom is
also total absurd foolishness, or to quote lovely
Mizz Hilary Lizzy McGuire Duff, here, from very early in
this 21st century, on a great DISNEY-CHANNEL Television
show, “Right back at you”!!!!!
YESSIR Mister Mountainpen; only you
can see the power behind, not only all the fucking shit that you had
to suffer through in all of your entire adult life, and especially in
what I now in reflected hindsight refer to as the great year of
SET-UP which is of course 1980; and expecting one single mother
fucking other soul out there in the world, and on this stupid ass
fuckign cunt internet system, to ever see it all for what it truly is
in cosmic significance, or believe any of it, or even any part of it,
at least beyond perhaps the one person
who commented onto the WFMU INTERNET RADIO WEBPAGE,
now defunct; that indeed, Mountainpen or “THIS FELLA” ~~~ “is
for real”; was the dumbest fucking cunt error
in judgment on my part in the history of planetary errors, phopah's,
and mistakes. And so again, I fell prey to the zillions of
turd eating busted promises made to me throughout me' entire life and
especially my ADULT LIFE by pricks of all sorts and kinds out there
in the goddamn world, promising me everything from the stars and the
moon to the rays of the sunshine and every single dick throbbing
grain of sand on all of the world's beaches everywhere, yo BRO!!!!!!!
And why is this all such a big deal? Well, I am the only one who can
see all the power behind it. It went onto control as well as
permanently alter the entire basic behavior patterns of global
society or at least the society of my nation in large majority and
later on slowly and gradually leading to a world wide pattern too. If
I listed it all I'd be fucking writing and typing for days on end,
but the largest of these things being people caring about famous
people and their lives as youthful persons in ways never before the
HAIR-RPL-FIND incident, the
development of musical technology far exceeding present day and times
'MOOG-cousin dating
Synthesizers', that for all I know, my old Cooley
Hall pal Bruce's kid Joshua, or whatever his name is, had
that his pop was trying to repair while failing miserably at it and
using some incredibly colorful and inventive verbal descriptions to
the incident simultaneously, and going well beyond the great
technical music eighties days. Whether I can attribute all great
transdimensional doctors, and or lab-technicians, directly or
indirectly; would of course be anyone's best guess, or to quote the
great Almighty Jehovah Krassle here, anybody's best GUEST GUESS. So
just how mind fucking bending was that wild Pearl
Harbor Day of 1996 experience, as it has later come so
very clear to me that I am supposed to do a lot more than just rent
or purchase several videos, in order for me to receive some major
hidden cosmic message for the ages, but also, to seriously
wonder just who is real and normal on this Earth-Planet, verses who
is a TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON-dream-traveler-(T3E)
doppelganger-controller; oh Mizz Goddess
Fascitar of the Ring River Province of Purgatory, or the
(Astral Plane)? Only I can truly and really see how powerful all of
this is, and I fully know only too goddamn well that should humanity
survive the early 21st century with a reasonably
intelligent rational society still in existence somehow and quite
miraculously, perhaps distant descendants of present blog readers and
internet users may be able to retrieve this fifteen year old
blog-project that I have basicly labeled as Morianity for this 3rd
Millennium, as this one-thousand year period is only one fiftieth
over with forty-nine fiftieth's still remaining. Just because I
cannot see in my frail mortal shell and tiny puny brain how the
Almighty may have indeed used me to write this thing, doesn't mean
that it is all worthless inconsequential trash worthy of deletion and
or creating some really huge camp or bond fires! I do understanbd the
full weight and significance to this entire thing,well, in real truth
maybe even I don't get it all yet or never will perhaps,but that is
not saying that a groupof mental fuckign giants one or two or five
hundred years from now won't retrieve this entire thing,study it real
fuckign carefully, apply it to their times and culture and problems
and situations, and maybe Mister Pedersen, it wil save the whole
world. Then again, maybe it isn't worth rapping heaps of garbage in.
BUT ONLY TIME WILL TELL AN ANSWER TO THAT ULTRA HIGH SHAKESPEARIAN
MYSTERY. I wouldn't ever be bold enough to think of making such a
claim here. I am not the great one and only Mizz Patricia H.
Hollister H. No way Hose' Josie girl of 1985, so cut me a big bwake
here, willya' lovely Mizz Margie Leo?????!!!!!
Of
course, only I know my own life and when authors write books, they
never, at least to my very limited knowledge of so-called normal
human habits, as my life has strayed into areas going so far outside
of normal ranges that I am no good judge here; but I know that no
author has ever had my story, and I also am fully aware that even if
one of them did, and they remained sane enough to write and publish
some kind of blog or book, or 'whatever' old pal Bob, from 1975,
later turned Federal Congressman of Haddon Heights, New Jersey,
USAESMWG; they would never have included an entire biography of a
full 5th dimensional hyperspace and attempting to inject
into a society that is totally unwilling to even mildly entertain the
fact that waking life and dream life is all one great big commingled
reality; thus, no book anywhere, done in fiction or done as a
biography; will eveer be like the BOM, (“Blogs Of Mountainpen”)!
Mizz Jane Sleazeweedsdisease just came a whisker's fucking cunt edge
from striking me on a page eleven of eleven, but just in the damn ass
stinking nick of time, I managed to draw my compensation coloring
lines to throw off all possible computer signals that would force me
into seeing four nasty ass mother fucking ONES, be it the display on
the margin from moving the mouse, or be it from the time, or be it
from the page number that displays on any and all documents in the
OPEN-OFFICE program system
that I use. Naturally, I have to use sticky sheets on my monitor to
block out some of Jane's demonic twisted
HA-HA dogshit, but the coloring lines are also major
important to remember to do and use, yo! Ya' rotten dirty bitch; what
did I ever do to you, that would make you and your crumb ball hubby
broadcaster Sir Teddy, wanna' hurt me so fucking ass badly, back in
the spring time of the year of 1993, yo???????????????????
The
wisdom of the spiritual existence most certainly does include the
realm of dot-connectiveness. Take Bruce and his showing me how to
alter the speeds of small cassette tape recorders, back in the late
autumn times of 1971 while we were in Misses Young's class at Cooley
Hall of Haddonfield, NJUSAESMWG. The take my using for no good
reason, the folksinger and lovely hippie
girl Mizz Melanie Safka, and her song titled, “Brand New
Key” to run lots of experiments on, huh lovely
Kathie Browne of Star Trek, and yes, that lovely gal was
in a Perry Mason show too, and I
recently saw her. Beyond hot but let me get me' mind out of the great
sewer systems of lovely 'land of romance, France' for long enough to
get back to bizz here; yo BRRRRRRRRRR! Shortly after doing this with
Bruce Pennock's tape recorder trick from the early
nineteen-seventies, for absolutely no good reason, I suddenly heard a
voice inside my head, NOT AN AUDIBLE
VOICE, and it spoke to me saying in my voice print, “Melanie's
'BNK' Song will come onto the radio station you're listening to, at
exactly 2:08 this afternoon”. This was about three
hours or so before 2:08. but when it rolled around, and I kept my
clocks right to the second in those days and tuned directly from the
phone company's CALL-TIME system, with the bleep-tones with each ten
second time announcement; and yessir, SHE CAME ON at that very split
second of eight minutes past two. Some peeps say I have a gift, or I
am a psychic. There is no such thing as being gifted or being a
psychic. Only being USED by ASTRAL-FAWCES, to accomplish shit that
always and forever PERTAINS TO GAMES, explains these events, and
these games are merely a huge fucking distraction against the
inconceivable hellishness of ENDLESSNESS. Right down to that
'alchemist', or whatever and or whoever he really was, that summer
day in 1974, at the area of Ziggy's Beach and Schiff's Central Pier
of Atlantic City, NJ-USA, telling me all sorts of mind boggling shit
and then vanishing literally into the same thin air that he seemingly
had come from, that went onto lead me into my being somehow seemingly
telepathically transmitted directly into my consciousness, the great
“LAW OF ONE”; all of
this and so much more; IT IS ALL JUST AN ASTRAL-PLANE GAME OF THE
GODS, or a GASME-GAME of the GODS
as I jokingly give it right back to them now,
right gorgeous Mizz Hillary Duff???????????????
But still, the JRSS or endless dot-connectiveness is behind so very
much that is being done in these games, or IN THOSE ASTRAL
PLAYFIELDS! Not all Purgatite existors have enough true power to
create intentional playfield-game-arenas however. An extremely
misunderstood idea that so many psychics and mystics all over this
world have is that there are nine levels of spiritual plane
existence. Sort of where all of lovely Jenny Hewitt's ghosts all go
into after falling into the great galactic heart (black hole at the
center of all galaxies, needed as a ratio gravametric barrier to
balance outer galactic star orbital patterns and of course, all
programed lawtronically into all of it, before we all dream out and
away from the purg. There are not nine Astral-Planes or levels or
what have you, any more than “the after-life has a really bad
smell”. Those remembering the smell quite obviously were quite near
an area that I do not like being anywhere near at all, and we all
know its name by now, right, “DOGTOWN”?
But the nine level thing that is also discussed on that great “Ghost
Whisperer” television show, is more misunderstood hidden
Astral-Truths. There are indeed 9-ENERGETIC
ENTITY LEVELS of the existors of the Purgatory. The lower
third of the entities can never ever initiate any of the
GASME-GODS-GAMES with the mortal world that big-banged out beyond the
Plane of Astrality, as they don't have enough energy to work with.
The top third of these PE's (Purgatite Existors) can do practically
all that they wish to, so long as nothing is in violation of any of
the LAWS OF THE LAWTRONIC SYSTEMS of the ZERO-DIMENSIONAL VOID that
blows out into the PLANCK or Astral-Plane, (from Phase-1 to Phase-2).
The middle third of energy entities can occasionally create
playfields but these are always subject to the will of the higher
energy-entities should at any interaction, any of them would so
desire to do. Getting further into any of this would take days and
weeks of non-stop typing, so forget that for right now.
I
have been getting some weird phone calls today, and I know why that
harassment is coming back, and again, time won't permit me to even
start discussing it all right fucking now, yo. Also while out
yesterday to try and escape my major
WOMO-MILITUFORCE
DEATH-SIEGE
PERSECUTION, Mike
Patterson called and left me a message. I called him back out of
courtesy only, and I have informed him that just as fucking soon as
these genius medical peeps develop a vaccine for the Corona Virus, I
am taking a few items and forever departing from Florida, never to
mother fucking return. But my real point here is thisssssssssssssss,
lovely Mizz Erica Snakes of 1983. So many people believe psychic
power and shit along those lines is real because of just this thing.
They think of somebody who has not been in touch with them for quite
a few months and then poof, they call them up out of the blue that
day or the following one. It is all nothing but the biggest tool of
the GASME-GODS-GAMES. What is their biggest tool? Gee, it is the JRSS
(James Redfield Synchronicity syndrome), what else. The endlessly
connecting dots that is efen behind the true ASTRAL ENERGETIC powers
of the realms of the sub-atomic, an dis the very same shit that
puzzled our great Mister Albert Einstein so very much, you know, his
“Spooky forces” deal. He said it, I am merely copying and echoing
a very great mind known so well for mathematical equations and
intellectual abilities, going beyond other mere mortals by
unfathomable leaps and bounds. He always was fascinated by the truth
about how particles at great distances from each other in the nuclear
world, would always have an endless effect on each other. The simple
answer is that the human brain creates separation and thus it isn't
really there to begin with in truer Astrality or in the realm of
ENERGY, andthat was what his great and famous formula was all about.
He said that mass and energy are the same thing, as long as one is
either divided by, or multiplied by, the square of the speed of light
and this is absolutely true and accurate. It has since been totally
proven in laboratory experiments. I know it because of my FASCITAR
TRIPS onto the realm of ENERGY, or the Purgatory (Astral-Plane)! The
Death Angel by the way, is so fucking beyond annoying, and has been
all year long, that no words could come close to accurately describe
my frustration!!!!!!! Why can't that fucking bastard just touch me?
Why just endlessly keep buzzing past me, you damn ass prick Mister
Mortimer Mortino, yo????? Yessir, I typed in that I was going ot
check out to see if Mike had died, and poof, he called me yesterday
out of the blue after several months. He gave no good reason, and as
far as I am concerned, all the shit that we tried to do failed, and I
am out of here just as soon as the vaccine comes!!!!!
MY
PERSONAL NOTES IN HELL-2020
8:51
PM, WEDNESDAY, 10 JUNE, 2020
NOTE
1
SUPER
MOTHER FUCKING BOTBAR
SUPER
MOTHER FUCKING WOMO-MILITUFORCE ASSAULT AND TOTAL ILLEGAL ELDER ABUSE
The
day was totally quiet and okay, until approximately a quarter past
six this cunt chewing evening, when all of total hell broke out,
DOGTOWN as I know its name to be in Astrality. Here is what happened
and then MAGGIE will do a major mother fucking counterstrike. All
I can say is that if either lovely Nancy 'P' or wonderful
Trump-challenging Sir VP, ever can get this note, I beg either of you
or both of you to please try and help me against this monstrous
vicious unspeakable tyranny, being done to me by these
henchmen of Trump and his PEEPS (henchmen, goons, whatever's) who are
and have been perpetrating unmentionable shit against me and to me
for countless years and days now, getting scott free away with it,
and laughing all the way to the WHITE HOUSE,
and the WALL STREET!
Mister
Mexico brutally assaulted me with the loudest blaring subs attack
ever and it went on until just shy of half past eight, nearly two and
one third hours of wall shaking persecution and harassment. I went
out and had to go out again because he would not turn it off or down
at all. While out, I was followed and stalked, someone damaged my
vehicle, and someone has done something to my government cellphone as
well. The last time persecution was this bad was on a really down day
of the markets or when it was done and then it closed way up
following the ICPE-APE-TECH ASSAULT ON ME. Mister Mexico has his subs
situated in such a way that even when blasted to hell, it is barely
heard anywhere else other than right on my apartment wall, making
anyone go completely insane. As stated, when he moved in here to unit
#605 next door to me in #607, I knew right away without the smallest
bit of fucking doubt, just what was up. Just as the Maintenance peeps
helped that horrible monster bitch PLAYBOY BUNNY move in to that
apartment below me at ROBIN HILL in the early nineteen-eighties, the
same exact shit happened here. I witnessed the maintenance peeps
helping this prick move in here as well, and I
KNEW THEN I WAS FUCKING TOAST, SENATOR BIDEN, AND CONGRESSWOMAN
PELOSI. I ABSOLUTELY KNEW THAT I WAS TOTALLY FRIED DAMN
TOAST!!!!!!!!!!!! There's nothing whatever magical about my
knowing stuff. It is based on sound logic and reasoning, and totally
established patterns from lots of past OTAMMIC-M2F behaviors. There
is nothing here at all that can be left to anyone's goddamn
imagination.
While
out the first of the two times, towards the end of the
time-killing-errands-route
or TIKER as I may refer in future notes
to in abbreviation, that same privater airplane that has two long
white wings with jet black tips on the ends of them, stalked me while
I parked and walked over to the DOLLAR STORE to get a few
staple-grocery items. Also, lots of other airplanes were watching and
stalking me and I could hear them all come out of nowhere to buzz me.
The Police Parking Lot and LOBBY AREA are still
closed due to the mother fucking CVGP shituation with the
social-distancing policies in force throughout the nation and the
state of Florida. I cannot move out of here as no rental
offices are open to take applications, nor are any cashier check
places to allow the credit checks to be done. So
I am stuck in this 'PLAYBOY BUNNY 2 HELLISHNESS', totally
forced to re-live and repeat my fucking late 1982 ROBIN HILL
BUNNY-WHORE 1801 UNIT disaster.
For
short, I am now in PB2 Hellishness.
I
tried while out, to call my landline voice message system with my
government cellphone, and somehow it got fucking screwed with. Either
some prick maintenance enemy here in Public Housing Authority broke
in here and screwed with it while I was sleeping, or it was done by
some electronic wizardry trick of the Black File Agency System of
America's mighty alphabet soup secret agencies of the MAJ-12-PEEPS;
oh Mister Childress, and Professor Michio NYU Kaku, you great
intellectual sirs out there somewhere!!!!!!!!! Some mother fucking
prick broke my blower motor in my car, and the low settings will
work, but the higher ones make a deafening sound; and my mechanic
told me that he can fix it, but it won't be real cheap. Hey, what is
real cheap? You can't even buy a pack of fucking chewing gum for less
than currency any longer. Change is only good for its name, making
change. Try actually buying anything for nickels or dimes or quarters
any more. On top of all of this, the mother fucking price of gasoline
has shot way up again, at least twenty cents a gallon in my town in
just a couple of weeks for crissake, but nobody says fucking cunt boo
about it on the goddamn news reports, do they, yo?
FBI,
I know why the enemy broke the car fan motor. They didn't like my
passing out some new tracts giving out my blog address to read my
blogs on, you know,
I
knew when I did it that the WOMO-M2F would fuck with my car, and they
did, ACLU, and WC@H.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONIC:
Computer,
hear my MVP (Mind-Voice-Print). You will be totally absolutely
crushing, obliterating, annihilating, and devastating, wrecking,
ruining, and utterly wiping out, all of my enemies that are viciously
persecuting me FOR
THE PAST 65 YEARS,
WITH MAX-POWER AGAINST ALL PERSONS AND FORCES BEHIND THIS DEATH
ASSAULT EVER SINCE MIDDLE 2019, AND ON
THIS SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR 10 JUNE OF 2020,
WITH 100%
POWER
APLLIED AGAINST MISTER
UNIT #605 MEXICO,
AND ALSO IF THE STOCK MARKET DROPPED A LOT TODAY; THEN ALL
ICPE-APE-TECH PEEPS WHO WERE BEHIND THIS ASSAULT ON ME,
WITH MAJOR
SKY
AERIAL STALKING, GROUND
SOLDIER WETWORK,
PROPERTY
DAMAGE,
and
that is all a part of DONALD TRUMP'S ICPE-APE-TECH
death strike on me since August 15 of 1986;
on a crush-destruct order,
under GENERAL-ORDER-189, max.-power.
Open-Command, General Order #7. Use G-901, G-1133, G-14, G-719, G-13,
CG5555-QP4 sub-code, under G-917, CG-2, under CG-18, and
HOLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Your
old AT&T landline telephone old style 1983 built tone-commands
have been data-transferred into the two highlighted long-EEEEE vowel
sounds. The high-tone is colored RED.
The low-tone is colored BLUE.
Computer
(Magnesonic) under my command and precisely matching voice print, I
have an image-object (I-O) now placed on your transpower-block (T-B)
after I have crush-destructed this. Once empowered, all actual beings
matching this I-O on your T-B will be exactly crushed and singed and
destroyed as the original I-O. To accomplish the scan, use
your ZD
technology built into your system. To accomplish this
sympathetic reality duplication, use your AD
technology, (ZD-Zero-Dimensional), (AD-Atomic Duplicational).
Computer,
'MAGNESONIC', on an 'I'
to 'D', A/B—TONE, PHASING
PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM; you will now be transmitted the
two empowerization-transmit tones,
or ETT'S.
I
have done a whole lot of soul searching and that day at my fucking
Cifaloglio
guard
job where I was led to
find that magazine article with Summer and
Carey, is my total proof positive, that all of these people
are indeed behind my woes and miseries, despite DGS of course, now
departing this wonderful dick licking veil of tears eight years back.
Peeps into what I am into are not limited any
longer to the mortal illusions of life and death or time or matter,
or any of it, Sir A.E., and if you were here right now and
alive, you could and I will bet you would, confirm that for me to the
goddamn mother fucking world, yo!
THE
GODDAMN DOOR ATTACKS ARE STARTING UP AT 9:30!
PUBLIC
HOUSING IS A SHITHOLE TIMES INFINITY!
Hey,
I did it in December of 2009 and I'll mother fucking do it
again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
WILL RUN AWAY WITH JUST MY CLOTHES!
I
WILL RUN AWAY WITH JUST MY CLOTHES!
I
WILL RUN AWAY WITH JUST MY CLOTHES!
I
WILL RUN AWAY WITH JUST MY CLOTHES!
I
WILL RUN AWAY WITH JUST MY CLOTHES!
I
WILL RUN AWAY WITH JUST MY CLOTHES!
I
WILL RUN AWAY WITH JUST MY CLOTHES!
THE
END OF NOTE 1
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