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TWEET BLOG 2022-X
I WAS SO UPSET
OVER THE WEEKEND BACK LAST Saturday with all the hellishness my lovely
wonderful beyond adorable and very precious Otammite enemies were doing to me
that I messed up in my thinking, and I said that tweet-X was taken off, but I had
never done BLOG TWEET 2022-X, as this is now that blog, and I had confused the Y tweet with
the now being done X-tweet. Yes I will
say this only one more time and after that it needs to merely be remembered,
kind wonderful peeps out here. That time of course I meant the compliment, for
the most part of course, as whoever did this assault to me has earned nothing
but my wonderful blissful blessings, weeeeee oh sir CF. So where will I begin
when by now, I had hoped to cover so much ground, that I literally have a dozen
scribbled pages of notes on “goddess forbid” yellow sheets of paper,
AHA-AHA-AHA MCNULTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I won’t even try to do it in one day, there
is way too much tell discuss, lovely peeps. For right now, my point is that I
am naut a Terry Scatterbrain from the regions in Jersey surrounding the mighty
& magical EGG HARBOR CITY. The really intellectual peeps of me’ blogaudian
viewership knows this by now after reading the past dozen blogs now, and then
seeing how someone quickly saw the entire thing that I was trying to do and
they went into Warped hyper-speed Grampa Speers overkill, in order to attempt
to stop me. As many of you remember, this dude wanted so badly to hear the
story from me about our Huntington family curse. I only got a few sentences
into it at Misses PM’s lovely non-magazine home in where else but GIBBsboro,
NJUSAESMWG, and suddenly, non-Susan Brooks, he tore out of my home at just
under the speed of light, after-all the man had several hundred pounds of mass
and nothing with mass can quite reach 11.8 inches per nanosecond IPNS. But to
Dogtown with that nutty family since I have me’ own beyond nutty family to
contend and deal with, don’t I Mister SWP? One week from today sir, I will be
at the dog-run park and please please please pweeeeeeeeeeeee be there, I need
to talk to you weelwee badly, and pronto. See you next Tuesday MOUUUUUURNING!
The same force
that is behind keeping me in down and dirty extreme sub-poverty since I was a
tiny child IS ALSO KEEPING ME, AND WITH THE SAME DEGREE OF WILL-MOTIVE-GOAL MOGOSP-2007, FROM
EVER BEING ABLE TO GET TO THE BOTTOM OF LEARNING WITH LEGAL PROOF ACCURACY, of
the full and entire detailed proof to just who and what is happening to me.
Exactly why this is all happening to me, or exactly who is doing all of these
wonderful lovely things to me for sixty years in various inhuman ways since
I’ve been eight years old or so; is literally being kept from me BY THESE SAME
FAWCES OF MISTER HALL AS THE GOOD THINGS OF LIFE ARE, ALL OF THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I know this as surely as I sit here typing, and challenge any authority out
there in this world to polygraph me and also to use sodium truth drug Pentothal
medications. You’ll find that I am telling the absolute truth, oh great WORLD COURT TRIBUNAL AT THE HAGUE. Still
even an IQ-rated moron would know should this be happening to them, this is
real, it is going on, and to quote James T. Burr back in 1975, “Mark, this is
actually, literally, happening to you”. This has been ongoing with me in
various ways and degrees now for 6-STRAIGHT DECADES, YO, I kid you naut lovely Mizz Blake. To quote beautiful Debbie Blondie Harry from back in
the nineteen-eighties, this is unmistakably real and undeniably hellish, and my
family as JTB said long ago, is behind the vast majority of all of my miseries,
and yes world, “one way or another” lovely blond blondie, and all of your 1982
gal-pals from awesome Atlantic City, residing at 1801 Robin Hill in Voorhees
Camden-County, USA; this is also
endlessly connected in and with the first half of the eighties decade, and most
certainly with Atco in Jersey, and those two power-house years of ’83 &
’84, and all it all is right there for any great super sleuth to discover, as
has the great Mister Steve W.P. This does not stand for world penetrator
machines discussed in 1979 but it does have everything to do with any and all
SAGA-MUD MUSICAL PROJECTS of the mighty ASTRAL-PLANE’S Province Olympia’s
DOGTOWN. Still, does it take a super sleuth to see how as I came up on BLOG
TWEET 2022-X, in conjunction with 1969’s great ‘X’ in the sky minus one line,
as in minus one ‘N’, as in 18----not oh-two Robin Hill, as in magical tests at
magical magazine guarding jobs and even with non-LA mist walkers or LA-mist
cult members and their mighty Jenny Hewitt HATS of time equation order number
bad luck—13? Yes, still I wait for them to state that this is all true and that
I am here, and in or out of 1988 years. Ratio turns into 18-RATION, X-blog
titles turn into 1969 warnings, and I knew Cuzz-Don that I didn’t imagine being
heard by THEM while at the great WM-C job while in my car and parked near that
huge truck, while gabbing away onto me’ whittle tape recorder about that
episode of Star Trek with good-ole’ Lazareth Parallel World Nutcase. Don’t worry, you’re the one with the PEAD and
the finger on the really HUUUUGE DAGS-trigger, naut me, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I HAD NO INTENTIONS OF TAKING Mizz Leticia Tilley over to
Harrah’s Casino Hotel that hot late summer afternoon from your great Plaza
Hotel. Watch that chopper yo. Were you guys were trying to compete with Mister
Gramps Speers? Gimme’ a break!!!! If you had come charging at Atlantic City
from Manhattan one bit faster that day after you saw LT on your casino monitor,
you’da crashed and burned long B4 the Lambrigg Cult had ever gotten you into
the office at 18-02 minus 2-2, oh those TWOS!!!!
Several nights
ago in the wee hours of Saturday morning folks, I had a horrendous scary
nightmare with Paul Pedersen, my X-Bizz-partner in Studio Park Records from
1998. His family was there and they all were persecuting me in frightening ways
in this horrendous monstrous fifth dimensional hyperspace experience. It ended
where I was in my car and he walked over to it and asked me three questions and
after I had given him nice civilized answers, he opened up my hood somehow and
began pulling things apart and wrecking my entire vehicle. It was one of the
worst nightmares of my life, and then came the day here at the library and more
additional hellishness right there in waking life. I sometimes wonder if the
great man’s name shouldn’t have been Peadersen and naut Pedersen. Still, watch
out for that Peterson boy, oh lovely Florence of Progressive Insurance Company.
Things are getting vely vely vely McDowell real for me now, huh Thomas John of
Ventnor, NJUSAESMWG? Let us NAUT come to any understandings now or back in 1970
in early July either, yo! Nixon always worried about the office of the
Presidency becoming compromised or weakened as he would put it back in the very
early nineteen-seventies. Well, you’re naut a crook sir, maybe, but I would
naut worry about that any longer, yo. It has plenty of
power, and the end of the world is around the corner if
this world DOES NAUT BEGIN TO WISE UP WEEL WEEL WEEL
QWUICKLY, MISTER ELMER FWUDDDDD!!!!!!!!! Oh this lovely wonderful terrific
world, how I love it so much. That and all sub-titles everywhere, huh great and
awesome world owner Oprah who went far beyond just the job of sand and beach
sweeping; huh ‘Ralph and Sandy’, and all hurricane naming jokesters. All the
trouble you all have caused me now, must mean you all realize just how much you
have to hide. Oh well, what can I say, Sir Jay-Jay Evans, naut Paul and naut
Happy-J-King of Superman back in 1957. WEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! She didn’t want to
sweep the sand or the Sandy, or the music curses, huh? She only wanted to Oprah
Winfrey Network the land, all great Saga-Sara Karge Songwriters out there. But
my truths just love to be endlessly ignored by those existing all around me.
There is nothing that I can do about that, perhaps I don’t even wish to.
You all know that my stories are true and many of
you out here merely do not wish to ever give me my legitimate props, and it is
really just that Red John simple. Still, it is naut difficult to see the
entire thing, however what is impossible to ever get to the bottom of has to do
with something that I told to Mister Joe Paget one day at the turn of this
millennium at the Roadway Trucking job where we were both security guards. So
please allow me to further explain and elucidate here with you. Being in HELL
is not a place, it is a condition or as I have called it for well over two
decades now, a “condition interaction”. To truly never know what is happening
is a hell that no one could ever face, I know this and seem to be the only one
who’s ever figured it out. This does naut mean that any of you in my
interaction are in this hell with me, maybe you are, maybe naut. I have no way
to ever know anything for sure and especially anything pertaining to other
peeps.
I know that I have died and gone to HELL. I
know it as surely as anything in this world because no other possible thing
could be happening to me. No one out here has spent the total hours and time
that I have ever attempting to unravel a mystery such as my life, so I can
accurately state that I have pondered and cogitated on these things longer than
any of you can possibly even imagine. Since I have died about ten times and
told the stories to each of these events back on earlier blogs in and before
the 2020 year and shy of any of these current blog-tweets, this can only be
explained by being in HELL, and how the great forces of Mister Hall laugh at me
with endless little trickster ‘coinkeedinks’, such as my living in Cinnaminson,
New Jersey from middle July of 1984 through the end of April in 1985, on where
else but HIGHLAND AVENUE for crissing out loud, yo!!!!!!!!!
The main thing that is happening right now is
my attempt to slowly show you all the STAR TREK PINK GODDESS revelation and
truths, and this is no joke. PINK RODD-GODD as I may call HER from now on, is
both real, and SHE knows that I’m onto HER; and SHE seems to have retaliated
against me big-time and right B4I was able to finish tying it all together for
my Blogging-Audience or my Blogaudians. An ignorant six year old should in all
true honesty, be able to see all of this now for exactly what it is. Some
things are indeed simply the cosmos complying with the Biblically stated ‘seek
and find’ scriptures, the owning the land stuff, and living at Highland Avenue
and along these lines. But when an active assault strikes me as it did ever
since I dared to talk about the stuff that cannot be disproved against my
story, the additional “N” things, all beginning with my ‘BLOG TWEET 2022-O’, well, this is unmistakable and unmissable
times ten to the power of fifty. The minute I tried to tell the world about
1969 and then all hell beginning, this cannot be ignored. It proves that my
daughter is who I say she is on both fronts. Still, an author must keep it Bob
Shelagh real at all times lovely Flo of Progressive, and thus still add in the
famous clause of in my humble opinion or for short in the on-line communities
(IMHO). When the Star Trek character of
Gary Mitchell, Captain Kirk’s Officer and pal from the Star Fleet Academy, as
well as the beautiful blond psychiatrist, both were directly made contact with
by that great FIELD SURROUNDING OUR GALAXY MADE OF LOVELY PURE PINK COLORS,
this to me proved many powerful things. But it would take years to properly
attempt addressing the entire deal with my Blogaudians and the world. Suddenly
these two fictional characters started to receive god-like magical powers.
People struck by ordinary lightning bolts right here in the waking world of
non-TV-fictional SYFY shows, also upon recovering, have in some rare cases,
reported very strange effects. Some peeps say I may be one of those peeps, but
this is naut me’ whittle point right now for today, yo BRAH! But taking all of these things in a connected
bundled up way people, and we begin to get things that cannot be ignored,
without any lovely raspberry dreams or strawberry festivals or Vasco Da Gama
crew pirates, all sailing away from where I’m typing right now, down the great
Flower-Land’s Indian River towards the sea, and chanting great tunes loudly
such as my “Atlantic Queen” song, huh oh wonderful Sir Peter Viteritti? There
was no reason for the great LOC in Washington to go all ape-nuts with me either
back in 2007 shortly after I sent them my project known as the “Karaoke Lunchbreak at Sorian Guardhouse” and without the “18” number allowed. You see
peeps, the code was built in and they all knew it, from the great 1966 TV show,
Star Trek with PINK GODD-RODD. It took a Julia White and Julian Black television set to keep in the dark all those
years about the great field of pink energy surrounding our MW GALAXY, also
known as AKA a B&W-TV. It took a colorized set however to remove my
darkness and bring me to the light of this marvelous and fantastic revelation,
one day while living here in Flower-Land-USA and going to a Good-Will store one
day and purchasing an old VHS-video tape of that Star Trek show episode from
1966 called, “Where No Man Has Gone B4”. Looking at the names of Julia and
Julian we see the “N” letter is added. So what letter was added on the great
SORIAN guard test question number 18? Ratio was hacked and changed to RATION in the test, the adding of the “N” letter.
This is why the Copyright peeps totally freaked when I wished to name my
musical project by that title of SORIAN-18 GUARDHOUSE, and it takes no Einstein
mind out here to see it. I admit that only until the time I was sitting at the
park all day because of that impossible nightmare neighbor that I too was still
in the dark. But with nothing but time on my hands for a solid year to sit and
reflect, it all finally did come to me. How would that 1994 cereal girl say it
so well on that block party summer Nick@Nite TV-show, “WO----WO”???????? Then
the 1969 censorship prophecy of the HUUUUUUGE JET TRAIL with a triple lined
“X”, or truly, an asterisk, predicted with Biblical accuracy, what happened to
me up here in 2022 on these blogs. Another quote from the cereal girl, huh
world? The lady at the LOC went totally ape with my song titled, “She’s Sarah
Stacey”. I was totally beyond clueless at the time however as to what was going
on. These were the days and times of many switching’s such as with lovely Mizz
Ashley Teasdale and all great HS musicals. HS standing for both high school and
hyper-space, is a true deafeningly loud cosmic shout. This is what 7th dimensional
Lawtronics is, the program that is behind all things that go
onto literally force the system to reveal things through stuff like this,
providing the seeker is not merely curious or silly about it, but has indeed a
major and earnest desire to know and understand. Our great SAR (Lord) aid this
to us, it is right in the four Gospels in our Bibles. “Seek and we will find.
Knock and the door will be opened”. It has to, it is no different than our
computers. Once programmed, then they must do certain things. We all know this,
even ‘dummy-tech’ me. Hey folks, I admit to truths, it is many of you who
refuse to accept stuff, for reasons that I only can attribute to the “Joseph Paget
2001 Syndrome”.
Back in 1997 while living at the Somerdale
death house on Harvard Avenue, I have so much to discuss it will take forever
so let me just try and do my vely best Mister 1972 McDowell. First, I said on
an earlier blog that I was King-hosed on 9-97 and that was a typo, so sorry
folks. It was in 9-96. I moved into the home there and experienced that day at
King’s parking lot, both in early September of 1996 somewhere, the exact date
escapes me, unlike Pearl Harbor day later that year on 12-96 or Robin Hill minus 6-6. That
was the day that I experienced an intentional soul-trip, courtesy of using the
great I-Ching and throwing the great Hexagram of Deliverance, and then being quickly whisked away to some
wild alternate Atlantic City and Tennessee Avenue, and WITH THE LOVELY SARAH.
Old blogs get into the specifics of all of this, and so we need naut now
reiterate. All of these things happened on a human timeline about a half decade
B4I lived alone and in Jenny Plageman’s Trailer Park called the MMM, non
Bonjovi emails. This was well B4 Easter Sunday of 4-15-01, and my other wild
soul-trip (interaction) while there at the Teknion place on South route #73 in
Mount Laurel, NJUSAESMWG. This is where I was yet to place endless jigsaw
puzzle pieces together with soda shop owners named Murray, astral plane gods
humanly named Steve Murray, and how lovely Lightning’s gal-pal was showing me
the proper way to CARRY a surfboard in the great CAPITOL CITY OF SDK!!!!!!!!!!
“Right back at you”, oh lovely Lizzy. See how easy things can get
misunderstand, oh gwate world? From reading an earlier blog, one may quickly
conclude, oh that lousy liar Mark Wayne Mohr, how can he know what Lizzy Duff
McGee is gonna’ say five years B4 she said it. Study my exact words. I said no
such thing. Some joker called me up last night and said to me, “Hey dumb-ass,
you’re a liar, Lizzy M said that to you in her show five years after you
claimed you were in Atlantic City with Mister King”. I simply meant that I wished
to say something more wise ass and knowing about that great show years later, I
was merely NOW thinking that while blogging, but see folks, this is how we all
do indeed get totally misunderstood from time to time, and then add my
Huntington curse to the mix and POW, I get the triple dose helping of the
poisonous medicine, EVERY SINGGLE TIME. WEEEEEEEEEEEEE, Sir Chester-F. Hey,
just because my X-son in law takes me on some wild trips, and once to Boston,
and then back to Philly to see a parade that was 30 days away from happening, I
doubt I would ever be able to know the lines of a made up television show such
as Lizzy’s Disney show. I do not lie, I have no reason to tell lies, and that
is why I claimed back on Saturday that none of my blogs are winnable in a libel
or slander law suit, they are the truth, and truth is an automatic legal
defense to that charge should it ever be made against me, yo. Hey, my story is
wild enough without ever needing to lie or even stretch the truth. Now in my
great 1994 book, “TPB”, I did exaggerate a wee bit and had to do lots of name
changes of peeps and places, you know, the typical stuff so as to keep from
getting all soo’d up, use-sue, two-tow, and yes, did anyone catch how when I
tried to blog earlier this very thing, the error-hack or whatever Sir
Andrews-1975, actually made it come out the same, a reverse hack just to show
me I am not imagining any of these things, SOOOOOOOO, WEIN, Sir Arthur Crane of
TCE, (Thompson Consumer Electronics).
Warp speed Speers Gramps, like WOW, his son was
very nice to me that day after Christmas in 1997. He put me onto the great
family secrets and just as the Library of Congress (LOC), he and they all seemed to know stuff that I
was kept intentionally clueless of for a very long time. I thought that me’
sweet whittle mommy was getting drunk all throughout the entire nineties decade
because of her unpleasant coworker, the lovely Mizz Emily and without her
picture anywhere, Sir Moe Bandy. It turned out that my mother was feeling
beyond ambivalent about whether to take a great family secret to the grave with
her, you all know, P&M, not PM, but Patty & Merry. How much of this is
absurdity folks? If one out of ten things is all that is naut ludicrous, it
still would leave an impossible-2-ignore bunch of raspberry dreams, would it
naut, or should I say, nightmares????????????? I know that the reason for my
mom being in the hospital was naut some guilt trip or from over-drinking. It
was because she fell under a ruthless psychic attack by the witch’s coven of
Atlantic City, P & S. Those wonderful adorable fantastic two women are so
lovely and kind. Remember the sub-titles people. WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!
My ROKU-TV service is better than nothing but I
twuwee miss my old Comcast TV service with real live channels. They do not let
me get CNN without paying for it, but they let me get that butt wipe other
thing ‘VOA’ or whatever the Trump-lovers are into. During those mid-term
elections they only advertised the red politics, never ever showing an ad FOR Charlie
Crist an always FOR Desantis. I hopefully can switch back in 2023, but I am a
realist. I think next year I’ll be packing up for South America to never ever
friggin’ return, yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!! Speaking of the numbers that go from
Jimmy Stone firing me in 2004 (20-04), and going back to PH-DAY of 1996, and my
I-Ching soul-trip to see Sarah; another in-between number that I thought to be
so benign jumped out at me just last night. The number of 14-98. All we need to
do here is subtract the small number from the large one, 98 minus 14 and then
keep the fourteen and reuse the difference number of 84, just as Comcast
thought doing that phone number promotion was so funny a number of years back
while I lived at the PEEHA BUILDING. HA-HA-HA, “weel weel fwunny”, Mister Elmer
Fwudddd.
The other HUUUUUGE time trip that I soul-traveled into while residing
at the Highview Apartments, and B4 my move into the Harvard Avenue home in
Somerdale, NJUSAESMWG, was in 1996. I told everyone back in 1968 that I came from
1997, and that is naut a typo-error folks, I said 1997, even though I knew
perfectly Pennock well that I came from the year previous to that one. When I
got there I was with a lot of kids from my old high school in Westmont, (Haddon Township) in the mighty and
illustrious NJUSAESMWG. I told them that I came there from 1997, and
that I was trying to escape a family curse. This all happened right around the
very same exact time that I ran into my son in law for real and naut in some
dreaming-interaction. He was only 16 years old then in 1996 and I had just come
from Haddonwood. I was heading home to Highview and phoned my mom that I was
late so she could adjust the dinner meal time and she was real pissed off but
this is naut the point. While on the payphone, he came right to my vehicle and
when I got off the phone he told me that my hubcap was all banged up. After I
had left Haddonwood the reason that I was late was that I had stopped off at a
psychic shop nearby the health club called, “The Gathering Place”, owned by a
Wiccan of some kind named Cathy. While there, I could naut miss hearing a
constant banging sound. That was my hubcap being intentionally struck and
damaged. Thirty minutes later at this payphone, Nick told me that it is all
banged up and was smirking. He seems to have some affinity with cars and me and my daughter OF COURSE, both in waking and non-waking worlds. He also
has some strange time deal going on, as this all happened to me at practically
the same time as the time trip, so let me now folks get back to that. I had in
my SATURN CAR in this time trip back to my high school and the year 1968, a
tablet. Back then I was not able to tell what that was. I only know that I was
able to read magical newspapers with it and the print would magically change.
It looked like a shoebox only a wee bit differently shaped than one, but that
is how I always described it until very recently when realizing one day about
half a dozen years or so ago that this was a TABLET. In the BIBLE, many things
are described and in ways as the prophets were best able to do so without
understanding our modern world and its various technologies. One prophet
describes a black hawk helicopter in the King James Version
(KJV), as a monster with giant black eyes and wings that sound like many
chariots. I would describe that chopper in the very same
way if this was thousands of years ago and I saw one and had to try telling
peeps about it, yo, so I did the shoebox thing with the tablet. I realize that
truth now, unlike in the nineties when this first went down, Mister RPL Sivo
yo. This device was stolen by some of Nick’s pals
and they were all the age he was, BUT EVEN BACK IN 1968, and taking all of this and in league with Sat
Nurine and his wild dreaming-interaction that he told me about back at the
Harvest job in 2011 with JULIA WHITE, only his Julia White was his boss at some
bus company near the famous Maryland Hospital named Bethesda if I am saying and
spelling it at all correctly, and in that wild dream, the lady said a lot of
wild things too lengthy to get into right now, and yes, proving zillions of
other things about all of this. As you know, it was a wee bit earlier than his
telling me that dream that I had a doozie-whopper of my own, oh wonderful President Obama sir.
In it, Nick and I were sitting at a bench right one of the perimeter areas of
NYC’s great and illustrious Central-Park. Suddenly, the bus made a full 90
degree turn that only electrical carts are able to do. Long Story Short (LSS),
he told me how he my daughter had broken up and that he was really in the
doghouse with something but he wouldn’t tell me more than this. This happened
about three or four years as we all know, B4 the actual break up did occur. But
in that trip I took to 1968, he and his pals stole the tablet (magical-shoebox)
from my car. They were determined to take it and managed to do it no matter how
hard I tried preventing it from happening. Do I believe both Julia White and
Nick Cannon are soul-travelers? You bet your donuts and coffee juices I do, oh
world. This all indeed happen to me, it is real. No one can talk me out of any
of this stuff. Not for “one damn minute”, oh great Captain Spock, and Admiral
Kirk-Whales-Hicks-Glands!!!! Did anyone yet figure out why the mighty Sir Jimmy
Stone fired me for seemingly and absolutely no valid reason back on 09/01/2004,
from my job at the Griffin Pipe Company? Right after Mizz Helen Harris was
threatened to stop assisting me in my hopes of getting to the bottom of my
SPACEFORCE-OTAMMITE-MILI-2-FORCE WOE-WHIZ-ME’S, he comes in and says, “Get your
personal stuff together and clear out of here, you’re fired”. Tell me I don’t
have a legitimate story to blog with all of this nightmare hellishness, just go
ahead lovely State Attorney General Mizz gorgeous Moody, and Sir Sheriff Ken Mascara of Saint Lucie County. You all just go right ahead and tell me that,
AND WITH A DARN STRAIGHT FACE TOO, I want to see you hold a straight friggin’
face, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I could type on and on for a solid straight
decade great people. I of course will naut be doing that. Things can always
wait, and I wish to state, 1988, that indeed yes, I AM STILL HERE.
Time travel is physically impossible, and even
sending information is impossible, at least with any technology that we
presently understand here on this Earth as of this date posted on this blog. Information
is partially a non-energy. You would naut think that on the surface of things,
but it is true. If it were naut true lovely Mizz Blake, then we could send information
backward. Of course it can be sent forward. That is simply called TIME-DELAY.
The trick is sending it back. Only energy is timeless and has thus, no time
barrier at all. Only our dreaming mind is able to accomplish this feat. It can
do this and we all know it. Some such as myself have personally experienced
this, and yet, it is still subject to an even higher force, the 7th
dimensional lawtron system. A continuous battle endlessly exists between the Exploratron’s
(us) and the lawtrons (the seventh dimension). This will take a lot of time to
fully begin exploring. My life and the battle of Jim Burr and Patty Hollister
is all a HUUUUUUGE part of this entire ugly mess straight from beyond the GATES
OF DOGTOWN itself!!!!
