MORIANITY-4-NEIGHBORS, NIGHTMARES, NUTS, AND NINNYS

MORIANITY-4

NEIGHBORS, NIGHTMARES, NUTS, AND NINNYS

4:28 PM-EST, SUNDAY AFTERNOON, 24 FEBRUARY, 2013

Both today and yesterday in the late afternoon, my sub box butt wipe nabes across the hall, turn up their garbage music for short durations, and then cut it back down. Total ninny behavior unless one is between perhaps four and fourteen.

Beginning on Official Presidents Day Holiday back last Saturday, the INTERACTION FORCE, really has been quite alive and well, and as the great man of religious wisdom would add here from his middle seventies great book about Apollo-Lucifer; living on Planet Earth, and most definitely to add onto his quote here, ''and in my frikkin neighborhood to make already sore festering wounds, filled and loaded with pure sea salt. Slam-Bam-Boom, at 4:34, these dirt bags are at it good today, and it is worse than yesterday. Total inconsiderate assholes, to say the least.

It is an overcast hot afternoon, yesterday here in town it reached about 86 degrees, and s bit higher still down in Miami about 100 miles to the south. Today was a couple degrees cooler and more overcast, WEEEEEEEEEEE. Nuts seem to be not only everywhere, and I am speaking all five dimensions, not just in this one little parallel universe here, but all over the 'great place'. I crashed and burned up as I said I would on my previous blog, and before I came back here again, and around the time of the afternoon neighbor noise, I found myself back in Hammonton, New Jersey, and yes; in a very monstrous situation, and this is what it was, Inspector Louigee Kent Henderson. I drove over to the Triple-a garage where Central Avenue dead ends at the White Horse Pike, and my parents were both with me in the car, over in this parallel reality, and asked for five dollars of regular gasoline, and was given eighteen dollars and sixty cents worth. I had no cards with me, just a five dollar bill. The evil man at this place was an enforcer for the New Jersey Mob over in this parallel world, and he told me I would pay him cash money, right now for the gasoline, or else. My father managed to hear this go down while exiting the rest room area, and he fled the scene in terror. My mother was holding a small piece of very colorful remnant carpet, trying to appease this huge evil man. Hem then walked over after taking the keys out of the car and putting them into his overall pocket nice and deep, and grabbed a man who also owed him a few dollars, and showed me what happens to those who won't pay him his money. It was some distrance away and I had trouble focusing at first on the incident, and then suddenly, unlike over in this universe, my eyesight suddenly became great and crystal clear and without any glasses. He then took an ice pick and after tying this man in a sitting position, placed the ice pick on top of each of his toes and then took a hammer and slammed the ice pick with it, causing the toes, one by one to fly right off the feet of this poor pathetic and terrified looking man. Blood was gushing out everywhere. Then the man laughed, looked at me, and went and placed the same ice pick on the mans middle top foot area, creating horrible wounds all over the top of his feet, eventually making the man pass out and limp right over into unconsciousness. Then he came over to my mom and me and demanded his eighteen-sixty right now or else. He had taken out some kind of a small cubical device that began sounding like a nasty subwoofer fully cranked, small as it was. He began placing it on parts of my body, and the pain was excruciating each time. Then he said, give me my fucking money you little 'chemtard'. Now here is where you need to know something. A few days ago, I learned that shortly after I had posted up onto the internet, my blog from last Saturday, somebody made a comment on my page on the Youtube, called the paulaking2011 channel. I thought it was funny and cute, and everyone, as Michelle Daniels back in 1980, at the recording studio, told me; is entitled to their opinion, even me. She worded it a little differently, and we need not go into what caused her to say this right now, other than it had to do with repressed memories that I had in my carry-baggage, for eight long years at the time, and something I had spoken to her in response to something that she had just said to me. Still, this will explain to some small degree, in a human-world explanation anyway; the statement made by that monster mechanic at the Triple-a place in parallel reality, to me about paying him his gasoline money or else. Without going to that Youtube Channel and then clicking on the video called, 'Chemtrails of 1987', you just will not get the full power of this blog, with or without any bridges, rail-road tracks, or crossovers, the them minivans, old techno-pop songs from the early eighties, or paternal side distant cousins and their friends and their television shows that got zonked off the network right after my attempt to re-do this old song, and post it up to the Youtube, which finally occurred, back on the good old when else, KARGE DAY, AND EIGHTEENTH DAY, back in last December, in twenty-twelve. Anyway, I was in-between these agony strikes, as the great Mister Palvo ''Check-off'' of the original Star Trek, and the following motion pictures, knows about so well, in his own parallel universe experiences of the mirror-mirrors, bearded Bob Spock; when suddenly, there was my mother, laying on this rug, and it was flying up in the air. She too was escaping as did my dad. They had abandoned me with this horrendous inconceivable deplorable monster creep mechanic. Then the box got louder until I suddenly was laying in a bed just hearing the sound of it, and after a few seconds, I came to realize, it was my nabes playing their short quick burst of subwoofer attack, as they did this weekend on several occasions, then a door slams shut a while later, and things grow quiet, or at least quieter. Some may want to know whether it is in the LAWTRONICS of the original DREAM-OUT that controls this transdimensional thing that most of us have indeed experienced, where we are 'dreaming' and suddenly a sound from the waking world becomes part of the dream and then eventually, we awaken here and the sound is what it is here, even though it was something different in a parallel space. No peeps, it is not a Lawtronic thing, other than Lawtronics is behind any and all thing laying on this side of the Void Truth where we just simply exist at, unlike at the void itself, where there is nothing, so there is no Lawtronics either, as Lawtronics is something.

I will be helping Mikey when he is released shortly from the Lawnwood Regional Hospital. He had a lifelong condition with his hernia, and things last week totally went south on him. Oh well, at least things could be worse, Michelle, first, I could still be back working with you and having IRC arguments, and instead, find myself ere in paradise. WOW. Well, I plan to never again use star gates from the attic, crawl through any fence holes to follow any toddlers into secret lit up areas filled with flashing strobe boxes on one side and used diapers on the other side, and most certainly, I will never tell Chuckie that I'm up a tree ever again, as I was being a bit facetious with him back in 1971 in Haddonfield, New Jersey, at the Pennypacker Park on that spring afternoon, only now, in all candor, I do not know what I could tell this dude, if he ever lived to get out of prison and make a life for himself. Chucks Gym, great idea, I love it, I loved it then too Mister McDonald, go for it buddy, you totally rock old pal. As for me, let me do my 18 and out. That is all I want, I'll do my time, 18 and a third, AND OUT. Let me out of here, Warden Coldgirl, thank you, and yes, nose plugs are always available. Me, I am only in need of the earplugs, and yes, I do use them here in a PH BUILDING, WHAAAAAA!

I have not played roulette this weekend due to a lot of nasty shit in general, but before this time, I ended up making back my entire systems crash unit loss, plus an additional two units as well. If things ever lessen for me again, I'll play more games. Why fight a bad magnetic, to quote the great Donna Diva Summer? Still, as Gawky knows only too well, PCN-615 is a self compatible PCN, and is the number for both, ''Mark Mohr in 1980'', and ''Created Donald Trump on a tape recorder''. The PCNT shows zero 1-2-3 Lovers, huh US © Office. His problem with me, well, GAGA CAT says it is PCN-550, WO.