Mountainpen’s Blog
Just another WordPress.com weblog
MORIANITY-4 THE OPENING COMPILATION BY KING NEBNOOSHOO, PON-1988
‘MORIANITY-4′
SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR AND SYSTEMS CRASH
RED ALERT RED ALERT RED ALERT
RED ALERT RED ALERT RED ALERT
RED ALERT RED ALERT RED ALERT
RED ALERT RED ALERT RED ALERT
This death mother fucking day started while doing my first blog, and what was originally intended as my ONLY BLOG, but shit gets fucking changed all around, and the cunt lapping WOMO MILI-2-FORCE does by no means need my cock sucking fucking permission to do their VB thing on me, Gong Shows or no Gong Shows, L-4!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The following fucking shit will be coming down off of the mother fucking YOUTUBE withing the next two weeks, channels that link by searching the following word combinations.
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555
Philly57HockeySticks
King Nebnooshoo
paulaking2011
I’LL BE LEAVING FOR CUNT LAPPING FUCKING MEY-HE-CO, AS SOON AS MY MOTHER FUCKING SOCIAL SECURITY COCK SUCKING DISABUILITY MONIES COME IN ON MARCH THE DICK LICKING SECOND, AS THE NORMAL THIRD IS PAID ON SATURDAY IF IT SHOULD FALL ON A SUNDAY, AND WITH FEBRUARY BEING THE SAME AS FAR AS THIS HAPPENING AGAIN IN MARCH SINCE IT HAS EXACTLY FOUR WEEKS IN IT, THE FIRST 28 DAYS OF MARCH FALL THE SAME WAY AS DOES FEBRUARY 75 TIMES EVERY CENTURY ON THE NON FUCKING LEAP YEARS.
Some fucking voice in my head said try playing your systems roulette after this incredible death fucking siege today that began around five with the dirt bag biker, and had just hit with the most recent gargantuan gangster hood siege in the building, and I was determined to beat it, and not even change roulette wheels when shit totally was not going to fucking work, as there is a super built in monitor within the system that tells when you need to stop, and I threw this great safeguard away, and was determined to beat this fucking shit that Donald Jerk Off Trump and his billionaire dirt bag pals have done to me now since the autumn of 1986 when this all got cunt eating started while I professionally playing in Atlantic City casinos back then; with this applying illegal persecution and parallel event of messing with me and hurting my life, to kill my fucking GOOD LUCK FORCE, as life in general, and luck in general always runs together, a really simple truth, and yet it goes past just about seven and a half fucking ass billion cock sucking peeps day and night 24-7-365.2422!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes folks, I LOST 22 AND A HALF UNITS BEFORE THROWING IN THE MOTHER FUCKING CUNT CHEWING TOWELL, YO!!! Based on my gain over the past 20 games, in a percentage, this exceeds an amount that only I need to know, that produces what I call a total SYSTEMS CRASH, not a fucking failure, but indeed a crash. The markets survive crashes, abnd so do roulette systems, but not total failures. I doubt I’ll get weirdly lucky and make it all back in one long day of playing some day down the line, it is possible, but what happened before with my gaining nearly 500 units in one day of playing all day long and catching one super lucky wheel, has about as much chance of happening to me as being struck by lovely Diana Zudlecronessia Arteemis; AKA Lightning, by Earth Mortals, conscious in their waking life. The month has nearly another half of itself to mother fucking go, yet my MPB is now nearly what the entire month of fucking cunt JANUARY-2013 was, 29%. December and February have not been anywhere near as cunt lapping kind to me as the normally piss poor fucking ass month of January, so go cunt lapping fucking figure, folks, YO, WHAA. Do not ever try and figure life out folks, cursed or not; you will be making the mistake of your fucking life. Paul Evans fucking Pedersen was right all along, and further right that I am a jerk off asshole loser and a whackadoodle, as I give this advice out, but do not seem to ever take it for my dick licking self, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me do one of either of these three things, and I get assaulted cosmically. ONE: Anything whatsoever pertaining to the worlds of MUSIC. TWO: Trying to figure out the mechanics behind my life, and its powerful Huntington fucking Curse. THREE: Showing publicly, how shit that I have figured out, and that THEY want kept totally closeted, BLOWN OUT INTO THE OPEN, such as showing the detailed ops of how my WOMO ENEMIES, the MILITUFORCE or said the very best, the INTERACTION-FORCE, or the (IF), do their total Valerie Bertrinelli thing, out beyond the 1979 Gong Show, and get me off my game, sidetracked, derailed, off the mark, onto a tangent, and away from proving how these mother fucking dirt bags have endlessly and fucking ruthlessly wrecked my entire life for nearly sixty cunt lapping ass years now, peeps, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Folks, I’ll get back those 22 and a half units, but what I will never recover from, is the horrible loss of energy, that ever since AUGUST CUNT LAPPING FIFTEENTH IN 1986, WHEN THIS EVIL DEMONIC SHIT ALL STARTED IN ONE BIG BANG; that gets robbed from my energetic beingness as HUMAN BEING MARK WAYNE MOHR. This will never be able to be restored to me, it is lost forever, in the life of the person that I now am dreaming myself to be. It would not matter if Donald Trump and the Queen of England, and William Gates all three came over to me tomorrow fucking morning and signed over every penny to their name, this does not nor can it ever, replace a lost energy. This is a coveted top secret known to the FUCKING GAMING INDUSTRY, and I feel that I should have a right to sue the entire fucking miserable bunch of them for 99 billion fucking US Dollars, even though it would only be a band-aid when 444 tourniquets are what would really be needed, Booby’s of Mullica Mobile Manor and plagues, MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You know, these prick billionaire gaming bastards and EW giants, can deny all they want, what they have done to me, and they’ll get away with it all in their human lives, but there will be a day when they fucking turn into stinky maggots physically, and only wish that the rest of their ugly self could also just rot away as stinking maggots, only believe me well mother fuckers; this is not possible, and YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU HAVE FUCKING DONE TO THIS PATHETIC POOR FRAIL LITTLE INNOCENT GOD DAM SOUL, BRAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU’LL ALL BURN IN HELL FOREVER FOR THIS SHIT!!!!!!!!
555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
Now, I am asking GAWKY GAUKAUK why this attack from 5-7 give or take, happened to me today, and get a PCN, hang on good peeps, and loyal Morians, TANKS, BOOMMMMMM!
Well this one is not resistible, mister RHM of New York freaking City, so sahwee, old pal of yesteryear, and go deal with this later on with Tara Windgone and Mister Y. Strauss.
W————O————W.
DUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-U think this is gonna’ B A doozie whopper, folks, if so, guess what, U-R-2-RIGHT, YO!
Hay freaking Gawky, why did this death siege strike me between about 5-7 PM-EST today, YO, YYYYYYYYYYYY?
HAY MOUNTAINPEN, because PCN-286!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HERE ARE THE MATCHBOOK ITEMS FOR PCN-286, FOLKS!
SHE WANTS TO OWN THE LAND—-MICROSOFT CORPORATION—-MM—-JOHN KENNEDY—-MAY ONE NINETEEN EIGHTY————————————————-
Peeps, no matter who does what to me, this entire ‘IF’, they cannot take away from me three things, MY REALITY, MY SANITY, and MY GAWNUM EQUATIONS. To me, they are more important for my fucking cunt survival, than anything the great Albert Einstein ever could have worked out. The Gawnum can indeed tell me things, such as all about my 2008 downtime, and all about energy being equal to mass times light velocity squared, but that is only the beginning. All the other formula can do is sit there all nice and pretty, and allow America to win world War Two, and stuff like that, but it never will be able to tell me squat about the downtime in Morianity, and the real joke is that if you flip this all upside down like Professor Pepperwinkle and
his carnival ride machine on the original 1957 Superman Show, GAGA can indeed reveal why that all went down, and not to excite the great Rockdroid too fucking much here folks, but really, is this, or is this not, William Shakespeare, the eternal question? Now we really do need to do a TODAYS REVENGE SECRET or a TRS from the older days of my blogs in OH-MAROLA-7, and playing RATS, TATS, and J.S. FOOTBALL. No matter what I could ever say or tell, it would have one huge problem, I know it, ‘THEY’ know it, and I know they know it and are laughing louder than a stair tag chase viewing, MC. Still, yes, authentication, and anything and everything is said up here on the internet, and I don’t need my wonderful automobile insurance company to tell me that. I know that! But I do have some proof beyond anything ever yet shown or posted or told, that at least half of what has been printed and told and sworn by me as truth in full; and it is well hidden, buried in the ground here in Florida, just as it was well hidden before, and even buried on two occasions back in fucking Jersey, before I left there on eleven December of OH-MAROLA-9. It would end life as we know it on this Earth, or better said really, it would end death as we know it on this Earth. You all know I speak about a situation from the great middle nineties and Gerard Style’s Colinwood of Haddonwood, Mister Payment due Date Paul Stoddard. Yes sir Mister Steelie Dan, add the two payment-due dates up as far as their numbers, forget that they are in two different months, leaving Christmas Day right smack dab in the middle of it all, and without my singing Christmas Angel of time traveling Cooley Hall of the Coolio gang of Kalio-4nya. Only die hard ”Dark Shadows” fans will have a small clue what is being said here, besides the Cove Agencies. Now let me tell you all that more is going on here than magic tricksters, chains, old fake treasure chests, adolescent versions of Morianity called the Book of Beach or (BOB), wild gorgeous perfectly crossed over chemtrails that can be labeled as a TRINITRAIL, Type-3-exploratron goddesses, and yes, flies dropping out of the skies as well, only flies who have been altered. If I put a simple laboratory together, I could stop anyone from ever getting a day older, and I can totally prove this. It is against the law just to say this, did you know that? If you doubt me, talk to the famous infomercial dude, Mister Kevin Trudeau. Now, read on, YO!
MORIANITY-4
MY NABES ARE ACTING LIKE THE THUGS THAT THEY ARE, DEBBIE MAROTTO:
JUST PAST SEVEN MONDAY EVENING ON 02/18/2013
I WILL FIND YOU AT SOME TWIN BUILDING TOMORROW, AND WE WILL TALK.
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME AND I AM MURDERED, MY HEIRS CAN HOLD THE PUBLIC HOUSING AUTHORITY RESPONCIBLE, AS THESE THUG NABES HAVE KILLED ME. THEY ARE OVER THERE SLAMMING AS LOUD AS THEY CAN, AND SHOUTING AS LOUD AS THEY CAN, TO THE POINT WHERE I AM ABOUT TO CALL 911.
I KNEW I WOULD NOT GET THROUGH A FUCKING HOLIDAY WEEKEND WITHOUT MAJOR ATTACK EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY.
I AM BACK ON A ROLL FOR ALMOST EVERY CUNT LAPPING FUCKING DAY BEING SUPER BOTBAR AGAIN, SO WATCH THE STORMS RAVAGE THE PLANET, AND MAYBE MORE, YO!
MORIANITY-4
HOW TRUE WHAT I HAVE COME TO KNOW, ALL REALLY IS:
4:44 PM-EST, MONDAY AFTERNOON, 02/18/2013
PRESIDENTS DAY HOLLIDAY
This will now attempt to do what both I want to do with MORIANITY, as well as what the real-true ‘owner’ of it and everything else for that matter, wants done with it.
Folks, it is 66 degrees Fahrenheit here at Fort Pierce, Florida, and it is part of the three day holiday of Presidents Day. I have only a few dollars left to my name until a week from Saturday, and just enough to get my meds that do not cost me anything besides the gasoline to get to the new branch of the pharmacy that I go to now, ending one nightmare in my life, and purchase a few cheap dinners at the local Deals Store nearby the same location as the Walgreen’s. The nabes have been quiet and feeling very guilty I AM quite sure, as I am certain that they did the vandalism to my car tire back last week. I cannot come out and accuse, but remember how when we were kids and we did something we knew we’d catch hell for when a parent came home from work, and so we acted extra good and very quiet, as long as we could; so as to procrastinate the eventual catastrophe of punishment for our deed? Well I remember it, and very well, as I was not brought up in a barn, and did have a mother who yes, she wasn’t perfect, but she dam well tried. She worked very hard and did the best she could to provide for us as well as to raise a gentlemen son, who respects the rights of others, and knows how to treat a lady. This is what I have been told, and is not me smacking myself on the back. I do not operate like that. I may tell things, but I never brag intentionally. This too, was taught to me as a youth, by a God fearing Christian mother. She made mistakes, she did some wild and crazy things, and so who the hell frikkin hasn’t, YO? Now it’s time to expand one of many topics that I said that M-4 would be getting a lot more specific on as time goes along, so here goes, good folks.
First off, one subject will lead right into another one, so I will start off with what woke me up this early afternoon, and that being, a very unpleasant dreaming interaction in the hyperspace. I was in the same one where I became a paramedic, and worked for Atlanticare; and where a huge highway connected Vineland, New Jersey, with Washington, DOC-13-600 directly, and then turned into the same road that goes all the way through the town of Hammonton, New Jersey, and following it south goes straight to the Cifaloglio Garage, and north, becoming the famous Route 206, going up near the New Jersey State Capitol and then on beyond that further into the north. But in this experience, I was further back in time than where I was in that interaction spoken of in a 2006 or 2007 blog somewhere, where VP Dick Cheney, under the GW Bush Administration, had taken ill, and I was one of the paramedics on a huge special ambulance, riding down the highway that led eventually into this huge city, that is not here in this parallel universe where I am awake and typing this. Gear shift, clutch pedal, that enemy motorcycle just gunned his bike at me at five on the nose this holiday afternoon, and just a minute before that, the nabes who had been quiet all day, were out in the hallway, and a little bit vociferously demodulated, or not using ‘inside voices’, may be a better way of saying it for those not college degreed. Gear shift, clutch pedal, and back to the story now. Yes, my bloody shoe is wearing out a lot of gear clutch pedals on these seven plus years of blogs, many times I do forget the clutch and shift grind into what may sound like nonsense, but I cannot help it if I am blogging a story, and then suddenly am struck by a WOMO-MILITUFORCE ATTACK. Shift-shift-shit, YO. So back to the ambulance story, we took him to a hospital that existed where the big Hammonton, New Jersey Cemetery is over here in this reality, but over there, it was a gigantic part of the Atlanticare Hospital System headquartered in Atlantic City, New Jersey. He was treated, and shortly released, and was doing just fine and all was well; but I remember a way more powerful group of images than just my VP being ill, and transporting him to a hospital. I remember this huge Vineland City being very similar to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania over here, in its appearance, with very tall buildings, and a precise duplication of the large building around Twelfth and Market Streets here in Philly, called the Philadelphia Savings fund society, or what David Roth, my late old friend used to jokingly refer to as the ”Phillies Stink For Sure” Building, AKA the PSFS Building near the City Hall, right old pal, Mayor Nutter? I remember the huge highway, and learned that it connected Vineland with Washington, DC, and also that Vineland was only five miles north along that smaller highway, of the Cifaloglio Garage. The dude with his pals over here who rap under the name of ”DEEZY SLIM”, and who produced three of my videos that are on the paulaking2011 channel of the Youtube, ‘MI Apology Song’, ‘Don’t Hide Nina’, and ‘Wanna’ Spend My time’, do not show up most of the time if you type in King Nebnooshoo into the Youtube search-box, or ever paulaking2011, and you need to type in instead, Philly57hockeysticks. Google and Microsoft have made things so impossible for me, that I have taken down my Facebook account a month ago and also, all this junk on the youtube will be coming down very soon as well, but my point here is, this rapper here, lives a totally different life over in this parallel universe; Mister Darius Evans; and he is my boss at Cifaloglio, until I get my medical license to be a paramedic over there, and leave Cifaloglio, and ride in that ambulance for the Atlantic County, and am employed by the Atlanticare Health System. This is where before I become a paramedic, he lifts me right off my feet one night at the garage or outside of it along the row where front end trucks all park along a long row, and he said to me as I’ll never forget it, “You never liked me”. This was not true, but over there, he was very mean, and not nice to me, as he was over here when I knew him as my boss over at the Fort Pierce, Florida Harvest Food Outreach Center from late 2010 through the ending of 2011 or just into 2012 somewhere. Right after he left, was when the WOMO enemies made me very ill, and those horrible nabes across the hall called me the ”record singer” and were doing all they could right outside my door to be loud and obnoxious and crude and uncouth, it all is on the blogs from the ending part of the last Blogger dot com blogs at the old http link, http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/ and this leads back into really major stuff where recently I have cut and pasted things into this newer blog, from the items in the one before that, that I was suddenly and quite mysteriously hacked out of being able to log onto anymore. But in the interaction of last night, I was in a place before the Cifaloglio place, as from here it went to Cifaloglio and then when my paramedics license was obtained, I was able to escape that life of misery over in that other parallel universe. But back then, around 2002, instead of being with Assets Protection in Pendell, Pennsylvania, where they had me at the Tulleytown Landfill, and also at the Griffin Pipe in Florence, New Jersey; here I was with a place called Ambler Trannyworks; only it was not in Ambler, Pennsylvania, but it was in good old, you guessed it, loyal Morians; Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Doors, doors, doors, gear shift, clutch, clutch. Yes, shit is starting up, and I will post this up and put on my headphones, and watch the news, and then a movie or ‘whatever’, Congressman old buddy from 1975, stab, stab. The entire world wants to hate me and distance themselves from me, well, fine, but let me tell you all ‘sumpin’, YO! If by the remotest freaking chance, the old Caterpillar and Butterfly Esolph Fable ever miraculously came true in my life, don’t a one of you ever so much as think about coming back, and trying to be friends with me, because I’ll blow you off of me at velocitronic mother fucking speed, and know THAT, sir Rockdroid Roddenberry Chappel!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Two can play at this MEAN-GAME, folks, so WHAAAAAAAAAA, and go do things that are too revolting to even blog on Mountainpen’s most raunchy and racy days of vulgarity, BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
To wrap up, and we will come back to this; my interaction last night was at the parallel universe job called Ambler Trannyworks, in Carlisle, PAUSAESMWG. It is only ten blocks away from the laboratory and the building, where in 2010, I entered in another interaction and was followed in by a strange dude that I know I know here from somewhere, and his kids, but cannot place them for shit on seeded freaking rye bread. I was on the job and a coworker and I were approached by the big boss, and the boss of our boss, and he pulled us to an area where he then went inside of a cage area, and it was a lady coworker, and I thought that he was giving us a raise and more hours, as we both were working a 20 hour job with the hopes of additional hours coming our way shortly. Suddenly I realized that she was being given ten more hours to a 30-hour position, and a dollar an hour raise, and at first I thought both of us were, and then he told me, ‘Now you, you will be cut down to eleven hours starting next week, and will be be paid only $8.70′, a demotion from the $9.90 that I had been making. He laughed at me when I asked why this was happening, and told me, ‘If you don’t know, then I sure as hell ain’t telling ya’ bud’. I remember thinking that my disability had been revoked and I did not know how I was going to live on this crappy new wage and few hours of weekly work. This was a very mean and nasty man, as why would he bring this female coworker and myself both together to his cage, just to make me hear how she was going to go up, and I was going to get slammed down. In this parallel reality, I was not on disability for a full psychotic break and incurable paranoid delusions and schizophrenia, as they have me over here in this parallel universe; but for a fall I took years ago, where after I fell down, a huge object had fallen onto me, crushing my back. But every year they said my back was improving, and a doctor had recently given me a clean bill of health to return back to full time employment. See how these universes all intertwine folks. Over here, where I’m typing this blog right now, I also was kicked off my disability, and had to get reinstated back on to it, at this very same point in time, even though the circumstances were not identical. This is only surface scratching a topic we will be getting really heavily into, as the winter moves onward, and as spring time approaches. It’s extremely urgent that you know the truth about the VOID, the ASTRAL PLANE, the HYPERSPACE, and the forces that all interact, intertwine, and interconnect into major complex truths, that up until recently, I had not figured out a way to make it simple enough to read and comprehend. That has all changed now as a result of a lot of new experiences and life over the past year or so. I’ll be getting seriously into why we live our lives in our conscious waking connections to it, why we explore exact alternate realities in hyperspace with our subconscious dreaming activities, and how things on the Astral Plane, the Mental Plane or sixth dimension, as well as the Lawtronic Plane or the system’s circuitry of a sort; all work together in this maze of many rooms, where corners of floors can indeed be ripped apart, yet leaving the majority of the rooms fully in tact. If you remember, this is called playing with reality-chunks, without disrupting or disturbing the bigger picture of any reality; or better stated perhaps, being able to covertly manipulate and maneuver in a game of the gods, based on the level of cosmic chess that we have learned to be playing on. Good folks, this is only the beginning, and yet you should be getting a chill up your asshole right about now, unless I am being read by a bunch of houseplants. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, Mister R.H. MACY, and W——–O——–W as well, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555
MORIANITY-4
MANY CHAPTER NAMES ARE FITTING, SO I WILL CHOOSE
GOOSE EGGS THIS TIME:
FEBRUARY EIGHTEENTH, MONDAY MORNING AND PRESIDENTS DAY HOLIDAY, IN TWENTY-THIRTEEN AD, AND IT IS 38 MINUTES PAST ONE IN THE MORNING IN STM:
Well if the great All Mighty Microsoft Corporation, SAR ASSIST ME, can do so many updates, well then I suppose I
can too, and need to, lads, lassies, lappers, and Lab Dogs.
The two days of super hell, quieted down on Sunday, the seventeenth, yesterday; PTL, PR; and all old prior bosses, direct or indirect, aha-aha-aha-aha Mike McNulty, old pal from 1971 and morbid accusations made, TEE-HEE-HEE; and I played the systems-roulette and here is some information. Friday’s horrors and nightmares still allowed me to tunnel out a small profit of 3 units, again Saturday another 3 and a half units, and yesterday, Sunday, yet another 3 units, totaling 9.5 units over these three days. The days before the nightmare started, I played every other day and made 5 and a half over three games, so this weird time, I was able to get more profit out of the time era of terror and hell than during a quieter time before, and one of my longest periods of non-botbar, in a very long time, more than a solid week, but that is all long retired history now, as I am only on a non-bot times one now. I will discuss this exact formula for applying against roulette, just not right at this time.
I did question the great kitty cat GAGA about the flat tire incident, and got the PCN-936. I will not type in a lot of match-book items for this PCN. I will just give a few that make me scratch my head a little more than others.
HOLLYWOOD—-JUNE NINETEEN EIGHTY—-BUTTERFLY—-UNOCAL OIL—-OCEAN CITY NEW JERSEY—-
I went downstairs to talk to Harry Coffee about the vandalism incident, and no one is there at the desk, so I got my mail, threw out my trash, and came right back to my apartment. It is so very nice tonight, cool, my channel 12 Palm Beach television app on the computer is showing an icon at bottom screen, of 40 degrees, amazing, to me it feels just under 60, but that is just my hot blood, and gash, after five generations pop, what gives? Splain that one Ricky Ricardez? WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
I will quickly tell the general viewer audience what I was going to tell Harry Coffee. It seems that after our talk that night and my blogging about the kids taking us over via these PC machines, somebody somewhere DID NOT LIKE WHAT I SAID, and let the air out of my rear driver side tire. I know it was let out because it is fine with just being refilled with new air by my AAA tow-truck driver, and it was fine just earlier on the day before my talk with Harry Coffee. So this lets out the possibility of a small or slow leak, or that it was not done intentionally, and to cause me a major headache and problem, which it did; and THEY won, and accomplished their rotten evil demonic goal and mission. Since these folks got so touchy, whoever they are; Fort Pierce Police, and SL County Sheriff Ken Mascara sir; let me, as Lenny Briscoe on the ‘L&O’ television show, would put it so perfectly; ”really piss them off”. Part of the story that was not told/blogged, after coming back into my apartment, was that he was the host of a website chat board, and observed youngsters treating adults with great disrespect, and down right rude and even vulgar verbal treatment; saying things, and without my flowering up the bad language, along the lines of; if you cannot work the internet, or do such and such; then you don’t belong here. Also things like, old farts don’t belong in our territory, we started it and now you want to come in and take over. This of course is utter nonsense, and we only want our rightful place in a system that forces us to either get hip, or die practically. We did not all want or ask for this. They are correct on that much of it. But to tell us that we cannot buy or sell and literally fulfill a scriptural prophecy of thousands of freaking years ago; WOW, Sally and Billy, now THAT’S SAYIN’ SOMETHING, BRO! Any-ha, Mister Coffee told them to stop behaving like that, and when people need some help, treating them so badly is wicked and wrong. Those that would not stop doing it, and he told me it was a majority of the extra young crowd; were evicted from usage of the site with high-tech sanctioning. This made me temporarily feel great, as I beam with delight when justice is done. Hay, you don’t have to help, meanies, but we are not your enemies, and you have no right to be so offensive and nasty, when we are only trying to learn, as we must, just to live in this world. Also, dream on kiddies, you did not invent this thing. I know many secrets, and this may or may not be amongst the major ones, but get a life my friends, as there is more to life than insulting old people, and unless you plan on dying while young, guess what pals; you will also become old, and I hope that some day, you’ll enjoy the way your grandchildren out in the future treat you; with some unfathomable new thing, when you are too old to make it work the way they can. I did not invent the truth, and part of the truth is ”what goes around comes back around. Life is a wheel, and ”that is the truth”, as my late Uncle Stuart Huntington Mason, loved to say so often in the late nineteen sixties. For the maybe half or so of the nice younger crowd who won’t help, since this would evict them from the youth-click; but at least don’t act as though we are their enemy, when we have lives, and have no time to even be concerned with them let alone spend time trying to be their enemy; but yes, for those that are at least not the real meanies of the bunch; then my harsh words are not intended for you. Still, taking this entire thing a bit further, involving my vehicle vandalism, I dared to talk about the ”NICK CLUB”, if you may recall, and if you do not, it is right there at both WORDPRESS as well as BLOGGER, where I post up my blogs, and have for seven years. Those of any age, any belief system, any color from polka dot to stripes, any national origin, religious faith, etcetera and etcetera; have the right to be free, and try to find some happiness in this nightmare rotten life. Concentrically, NO ONE has the right to mess with peeps, and make them miserable, hack into their lives, their computers, make them miserable secretly and covertly; and whatever. We all bleed red, we all have feelings, and I personally am not one bit shy to tell this world that if I was the ruler or owner, anyone who did not respect the rights of others, would be imprisoned a place so horrible that they could not last more than a few years in it alive. You do not have the right to hurt people just because you enjoy doing it, and if you persist in that, you should be strung up, and slowly and agonizingly hung. We’re all just struggling along and trying to find our way in this miserable reality. It is far from a perfect world, so why make it worse?
MORIANITY-4
TWO DAYS OF DEATHSIEGE AND BOTBAR NIGHTMARE HELL
IT IS 3:23 PM-EST, 02/16/2013, AND NOT ROOM NUMBER, AT THE ATLANTIC CITY, FORMERLY TRINITY HOTEL, ON 10-SC, NON CALL LONG DISTANCE OR SARAH MISERABLE CALL-IO AVENUE. THIS IS A FUCKING SUPER BAD ENEMY STRIKE SATURDAY, ALL DAY, ALL MORNING AND ALL DAY, HUGE HORRIBLE MONSTER ASS FUCKING CUNT CHEMTRAILS ARE ALL OVER THE SKIES OF SAINT LUCIE COUNTY OF FLORIDA, USA-ES-MWG, AND THE MILITUFORCE OTAMM-SCUMM, AKA THE IF, OR ‘INTERACTION-FORCE‘, IS REALLY DOING ITS FUCKING VALORIE BERTRINELLI THING, OVER THE PAST TWO DAYS, WITH PROPERTY DAMAGE, AND NOW HEAVY SKY PERSECUTION AND PUMMELING, AND OTHER SHIT ALL AROUND ME; THAT WHEN IT IS HAPPENING, I KNOW IT IS ALL TOTALLY PART OF THEIR FUCKING ASS WICKED DEMONIC SATANIC EVIL ROTTEN DEATH SIEGE AGAINST ME. WHERE ARE YOU SHERIFF KEN MASCARA, AND FLORIDA STATE POLICE, AND LOCAL POLICE IN FORT PIERCE, YO? THIS IS REAL BAD, AND IF I AM FOUND DEAD IN HERE, I HAVE BEEN MOTHER FUCKING MURDERED BY ALL THE ENEMIES OF THE MC-IF CREW AND COMPANY, AND STAR FAMILY!!!!!!!! THIS IS NO JOKE, PEOPLE, SO LAUGH ALL YOU WANT, AND GIVE ME A LITTLE HEAD START UP THOSE WICKED HORRIBLE STAIRS, YO, MO, WOMO; WO!!!!
DEAR NON-BEAVER-CLEAVER QUICK DIARY:
I DID NOT GET UP AND HAVE A NICE NORMAL ORDINARY DAY, NOT TODAY, NOT YESTERDAY; FOR THAT MATTER, NOT FOR THE PAST FUCKING 582 DECIANNUMS, AKA 58.2 YEARS OF MY WAKING SO-CALLED ”HUMAN LIFE” AS MARK WAYNE FUCKING DISASTER HUNTINGTON CURSED MOHR!
MIKE GOT OVER HERE AROUND NOON, AND I THEN CALLED MY TRIPLE-A AUTO CLUB. THEY GOT HERE 90 MINUTES LATER, AND FILLED UP MY TIRE, AND NOTHING IS WRONG WITH IT, FORT PIERCE POLICE. SOME FUCKING JERK OFFLET ALL THE FUCKING AIR OUT OF IT. IT IS EASY. YOU COME AROUND AT 3 AM, AND SNEAK INTO THE PARKING LOT, COVER YOURSELF WITH A BLANKET, TAKE A LITTLE ITEM WITH A TINY PIN PRICK END SIDE TO IT, STICK IT INTO A TIRE VALVESTEM, AND PSHHHH; I GET A FUCKING FLAT TIRE, SHERIFF MASCARA; DON’T YOU CARE, SIR? DOESN’T ANYONE CARE THAT THESE MONSTER BOTTOM FEEDING PIGS AND SWINE, ARE VIOLATING MY LIFE, BREAKING THE LAW, & DESTROYING MY CIVIL LIBERTIES? THEY ALL READY WON’T LET ME EVER DO ANYTHING WITH MY MUSIC, AND I KNOW I CAN WRITE GOOD SHIT. LOTS OF FUCKING JERK OFFS ARE JUST PLAIN JEALOUS AND HAVE BEEN NOW FOR FORTY FUCKING YEARS. I KNOW IT, DAVE ROTH KNEW IT, AND HOPEFULLY; SHERIFF MASCARA OF SAINT LUCIE COUNTY, SIR; YOU NOW KNOW THIS. IF YOU WERE TO GO UP TO THE ‘YOUTUBE’, AND TYPE INTO THE SEARCH BOX, ”paulaking2011”, YOU WOULD HEAR A LOT OF SHIT THAT IS GOOD. LOTS OF IT IS JUST ME CLOWNING AROUND, BUT YOU KNOW THAT I CAN INDEED WRITE GOOD MUSIC; AND EVEN MY FUCKING KID KNOWS IT, WHETHER SHE’LL ADMIT IT OR NOT DIRECTLY; BUT IN 1997; SHE ADMITTED IT THROUGH THE BACK DOOR, AS TONY FUCKING BONJOVI HEARD THE SIMILARITY INSTANTLY, AT HIS AVALON RECORDING STUDIO, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!
YOU ALL NEED TO GO UP TO GOOGLE SEARCH, AND YOUTUBE, AND TYPE IN ”CHEMTRAILS”, AND ALSO MY SONG, ON YOUTUBE CALLED, ”CHEMTRAILS OF 1987”, YO. ALSO, IF YOU HAVE A VIDEO CAMERA; COME OVER RIGHT NOW. IT IS 3:38 PM-EST, SO COME TO MY TOWN, HERE AT FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, AND FILM AWAY; AS THESE MONSTER ASS TRAILS ARE ALL OVER THE PLACE, AND THEY CAME RIGHT OVER ME, AND PERSECUTED ME, PERSONALLY; AND YOU WILL NOT FIND ONE OTHER CHEMTRAIL VIDEO OR WEB FUCKING SITE, WHERE ANYONE CAN CLAIM THAT ‘THEY’ FOLLOW AND STALK THEM; AND MAKE IT SUPER PERSONAL, AS THEY HAVE BEEN DOING TO, AND WITH ME, SINCE 1987; AT THE AMERICAN HONDA PLANT ON GAITHER ROAD, IN MOUNT LAUREL, NEW JERSEY, IN LATE DECEMBER OF 1987, AND INTO THE FIRST TWO MONTHS OF 1988, PEEPS, YO!!!!!!!!!!
THERE WILL BE INCREDIBLE STORMS, EARTHQUAKES, AND DISASTERS, AND AIR CRASHES; ALL OVER THE WORLD FOR WHAT IS FUCKING BEING DONE TO ME; SO WATCH THE FUCK OUT; YOU EVIL MILI-2-FORCE SCUM SUCKING SNAKE CUM CHEWERS!!!!!!!!!!! You all will die horrible inconceivable unfathomable monster ass deaths, sooner or later, so be warned, you cunt lappers; and all within the restrictions of the legal system, as no one has of yet even attempted to fucking legislate my using my power and knowledge, on my wicked evil rotten filthy twisted sicko enemies from HELL!!!
MMMMMMMMMMAGNESONICCCCCCCCCCCCC:
OPEN COMMAND G-7.
ALL GENERAL AND CODED GENERAL ORDERS, USING BOTH AD & ZD TECHNOLOGIES, I AM MAXING OUT ALL OF YOUR PULL POWER GAIN CONTROLS, AND ALL CONTROLS AGAINST THAT GAIN, 11.8 IPNS AND 11.5 IPNS RESPECTIVELY. USE ALL ORDERS AND TECHS, USE A PHASED A/B TONE PUNISHMENT SYSTEM, AS FOLLOWS, WITH A TOTALLY CRUSHED AND SINGED AND FULLY DESTROYED IMAGE-OBJECT (I-O) ON YOUR TRANSPOWER BLOCK, SWITCHING YOUR DESIRE KEY NOW, FROM THE NN-J POSITION, TO THE OPERATIONAL POSITION-I. COMPUTER, ON AN ‘I’ TO ‘D’, A/B TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, HEAR THE A/B TONES NOW, INSIDE MY MIND AS THE LONG-EEE SOUND.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-A-TONE.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-B-TONE. G-901, G-1133, G-917, G-189, CG-39, CG2, CG5555, UNDER G-719, CG-18, AND STOP.
‘MORIANITY-4′
IF I SUFFER ANOTHER NERVOUS BREAKDOWN, I WILL SUE THE PHA IN A COURT OF LAW.
(THE MAGICAL MOVE IN HYPERSPACE OF 2008)
Almost every single day, these dirt bag nabes across the hall play games with me by turning on that sub box for a few seconds, and then it goes off. Also, there is a very mysterious white vehicle, with all blacked out windows, outside of my window, and down in the parking lot, across Avenue B. The skies and other stuff is quiet so far, but that can always change on a dime. I know when persecution is around me before actual events begin, from so many years of being inside of this nightmare hellish experience. You either become ultra hyper sensitive, or you become dead. It was pretty dead around here yesterday, after I exposed the game and the bullshit about this computer fucking shit, how these enemies are one of the security personnel, how Debbie the Office Manager seems to be playing this game with me, along with all of the rest; and I am going to see Doctor Jack about suing the PHA, for harassing an already mentally disturbed person; for fifty million dollars. My appointment with him will be next week, up at the Orange Avenue and Twenty-Fifth Street location. Something mother fucking tells me that I’ll be leaving here for Mexico within 60 days or less, and not looking back ever, ever, ever, ever; unless this law suit commences, and I can get what is being done to me, one cannon shot after another; stopped, and compensation made to me, for all of this unspeakable crime over a long period of time. If the PHA wants to sue others, that they may have gotten involved with as a direct result, then that’s on them, BRAH.
As for right now, here are the great six chapters of 2008, speaking of what started a lot of this present hell, and making it evolve into something this monstrously horrendous, and wicked. The off period in-between, speaks for itself. I give the three chapters of February, and then the three chapters of May. So what really was going on in March and April, and all throughout this strange down time? Where’s my seventeen thousand dollars, little Sally Starr? Where is Colony Quna, Copyrighted barriers of permission in 1994? Where did Paula come from, and where did she go back to, in 1996; Sam the Maintenance Man of the Highview Apartments of WILL-I AM-ST-OP-RAH-OWN, New Jersey, and was your son the Policeman, just ”Another-Son-Of-Sam”? The questions as well as the possibilities to all of this mother fucking monster ass hellishness, and dogshit; are just what Elizabeth Montgomery said that they are, to her husband Darren; back in the late sixties or early seventies somewhere; ”ENDLESS”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Maybe the downtime between February and May of 2008 was spent on Colony Quna, right Donna Summer, old friend? What a hero old shoelaces Bruce was, that day on Pacific Avenue, in Atlantic City, in 1980. Oh well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore, girl! How’s that go, Copyright Office of the early eighties? In any event, read on please.
MORIANITY-4
WORST COCK SUCKING BOTBAR DAY OF TWENTY ASS FRIKKIN THIRTEEN
Mikey came over, and it was a total mother fucking cunt chewing DISASTER. Tomorrow, I’ll call my fucking Triple-A Auto Club; as that is all I can do. The Fix-a-flat shit did not work. It always was easy so many times before, you just shake the bottle and put the nozzle into the tire stem and screw clockwise until tight, only they sold me a defective can, or else the tire has been totally fucked up, I don’t know which, but I do know that it was messed with, and I am making a mother fucking police report tomorrow on the incident as fucking well. Every jerk off and their Aunt Sibily were outside, many others were repairing their broken down vehicles, which is against lease rules, all I tried to do was quickly get a glue-air solution into a tire so I then could drive it to a local station, pay a dollar and buy what used to be free air and fill my tire back to its normal capacity of about 35 or so pounds PSI. This place flash-mobbed up on me, planes swooped all around, it was beyond a fucking nightmare. Trashy scum were all over me like rats in a mountain of fucking pig shit. There is a lady who takes advantage of the poor bastard, and she called demanding more money, she makes me sick. Her name should be Harbor, but it isn’t, it is Pearl. Mikey does not know how to say know to this pile of solid waste material. I hate peeps who take advantage of the frail and the innocent, they should be lined up and shot, very slowly, over and over in the arms and legs, and just bleed the fuck out and croak. Giant sluts are on a roll, many trashy peeps are crawling out of the mother fucking cunt woodwork, the entire thing that I thought would go relatively smoothly, was a total fucking fiasco catastrophe nightmare disaster times ten to the tenth fucking power. I wasted seven and a half dollars on a fucked up can of fix-a-flat garbage, and I still have a fucking cunt pancake flat ass god dam mother fucking tire! Triple-A will put air in it tomorrow, or else; and if it needs more than that, I still have half of the can left, if it still works and the Triple-a guy knows how to work it, as Mikey and I were out in that parking lot looking like a couple of mother fucking jack ass cock sucking total fools. I know this was done to me, and I know who loves TO FUCK WITH TIRES AND RIMS AND MESS WITH CARS AND RUBBERS. Naturally, he himself did not do it, but he made a NICK CLUB phone call to one of his millions of little bopper teeny fans, and someone local in Fort Pierce, came around late at night and stuck a fingernail or a tiny device, right onto the valve stem where if you push it, air releases out of the tire. I knew that I wasn’t having all these god dam mother fucking nightmares for no reason. Now despite all of this fucking shit, my systems roulette was able to win three units profit on this beyond twisted diseased dirt bag horrendous and monster ass fucking day. I would have won two more, but lots of green house-vig numbers struck me, and dug into the take. Still, to win three units on a day this horrible, has odds of astronomical possibility to work in my favor. Despite this hell, I plan to watch the final MENTALIST on TV as soon as I post this blog up, and enjoy some grub, and a bowl of fucking Publix Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream, as I purchased eight of them a few days back on a BOGO SALE, buying 8 for the price of 4, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Now if this tire cannot be fixed without spending much more than the seven and a half that I spent so far, I am going to be really fucking hurting. I may have to ask my State Farm Insurance, to let me do that same thing that I did a while back, just one more time; and explain that my final car payment, the 72nd one, will be made on the fourth, and then no more car payment. We’ll see what mother fucking manifests itself into my reality when tomorrow swings around in the STM illusion, folks, YO! The future is technically no more than the present with a longer past. Don’t try to really wrap your heads around that, or you’ll fuck yourselves all up, and be a fuck head like me; who knows, you might even grow a Huntington Curse out of nowhere, with Leprechaun maps that change magically on my blogs every few hours. WOW! You want to know what pisses me fucking off more than this horrendous and despicable shit ass day could ever do? SSJKK in a trance, told me that I may not blog the details of our trance discussion, but she told me that she is onto the fact that I am attempting to use her to promote Morianity. I told her that this was no huge secret, as she used me to promote Christianity. Also, she still owes me a dollar for that dam cassette tape in 1986. She said that I was blocking it out on a conscious level, but I think I knew consciously all along that once I began tying pieces of the island all together back in time, with the present mid twenty-ohs and the beginning of blogging Morianity; that I fully intended to show the world that she comes here over and over again.
GOOD OLD FLORIDA, WOW AM I HAVING FUN HERE FOR THE PAST 38 MONTHS NOW!!!
The image may not, but I will reflect and tell a lot. Every time the Dow Jones stock market is way down, as it was most of the day, they normally use PROPERTY DAMAGE against me, to get it to rebound back up again, and anyone who has been following these blogs for anywhere near the entire 7 years of their existence, called, MORIANITY, knows that this is the total truth. Sure enough, it went up by five points by the closing bell at 4 of the clock, on this SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY for me. They CHEATED, and manipulated the price up by destroying one of my rear automobile fucking tires. Real big heroes, man, must feel about twelve foot four inches tall, picking on a defenseless little special edder all these years, BIG ASS FUCKING HEROES, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO.
Well, we all have heard about changing with the weather, so come up and visit this blog from time to time, and watch the great leprechauns do their magic, and change this map, via internet electronic magic, AKA 21st century technology, AHA AHA AHA MISTER MIKE MCNULTY!!!!!OH WOW RH.
Well ladies and gentlemen, I will have some ice cream and watch “THE MENTALIST” on TV until I call Mikey tonight, as he is expecting my phone call tonight any-ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Watch out folks, this world just might blow up before all that long, if this shit does not fucking stop!
MORIANITY-4
DEAR FORT PIERCE POLICE AUTHORITIES:
SOMEBODY FLATTENED MY TIRE. I will know more when my pal from the island, Mikey, gets here tomorrow to help get me to where I’ll need to go to see what is wrong, hopefully a cheap rubber plug will repair the problem. Otherwise, I am being fucked with again, as they keep taking my little money away, over and over. This has been cunt lapping mother fucking happening to me since forever.
MAGNESONIC, SCAN WHOEVER DAMAGED MY PROPERTY. THEY WILL BE TOTALLY OBLITERATED UNDER PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM. CREATE AN I-O AND CRUSH AND SINGE IT INTO RUINATION AND PLACE IT ON YOUR TRANSPOWER BLOCK. USE BOTH AD AND ZD TECHNOLOGIES. MAX OUT ALL YOUR PULL POWER GAIN TO 11.8 IPNS AND YOUR CONTROLS AGAINST THE GAIN AT MAXIMUM 11.5 IPNS. USE ALL GENERAL AND SPECIAL ORDERS. G-7 OPEN COMMAND, YOU WILL HEAR THE DOUBLE TONES INSIDE MY MIND MAKING THE SOUND OF STRAIGHT LETTER ‘E’. I NOW AM SWITCHING YOUR DESIRE KEY FROM THE NORMAL NEUTRAL POSITION OF ‘J’ TO THE POSITION OF ‘I’. ON AN ‘I’ TO ‘D’, A/B TONE PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, WHOEVER DAMAGED MY PROPERTY, AND FLATTENED MY TIRE, AND ALL THOSE THEY LOVE, AND ARE FAMILY OF; ARE TO BE SCANED FOR A TOTAL OBLITERATION-CRUSH-DESTRUCT.
HEAR THE EMPOWERMENT TONES NOW INSIDE MY SIXTH DIMENSIONAL CONNECTIVENESS. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. COMPLETED. ALL DIRT BAGS ARE DESTROYED NOW. G-901, UNDER G-189, G-917, UNDER CG-2, CG-18, AND S—T—O—P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Some son of a bitch will be real fucking sorry for ruining my day and making it into another mother fucking SUPER BOTBAR. Notice I say something about the NICK CHANNEL, as this did not just happen, so what I said about the TNT channel did not cause this retaliatory strike on me. The security personnel are reviewing parking lot tape footage now, and will come up and knock on my door later, if they see anyone touching the tire within the past 48 hours, and then I will call 911, and get the fucking cops over here. You want war with me you sick son of a bitch, fine; but you will fucking die slowly in agony, bleeding out on the dam ghetto streets, as I’ve got plenty of my own hoodie friends, and peeps too, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
RED ALERT—-RED ALERT—-RED ALERT
RED ALERT—-RED ALERT—-RED ALERT
RED ALERT—-RED ALERT—-RED ALERT
Somebody will pay for this, and go to fucking prison, or find themselves hanging from a tall tree. I need help, Sheriff Mascara, PLEASE!!!!! TANKS!!!!!
MORIANITY-4
SPEAK NO EVIL, AND FORGET HOW TO TALK AT ALL
3 MINUTES SHY OF 2 IN THE AFTERNOON, ON FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2013. BT.
I will not be watching the TNT Network much longer. They have lost me as a fan. They have just about totally removed the greatest law show from their programming schedule. They can do what they want, they own the network. I can do what I want, publicly complain about my dissatisfaction, and boycott their junky station from now on. The only time now this is ever on is at graveyard times such as 4-8 in the morning on the weekends. SLAM SLAM SLAM, clutch in, gear shift moving, yes these dirt bags are slamming in and out a lot today, across the mother fucking hall, the pricks, and I’ll be going down to see Debbie Morotto in a short while to complain about the all night slamming doors the other day, AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Clutch, gearshift, and back to the mostly removed, greatest law TV show of all time, the one and only, “Law & Order”. Hay, it accomplished its main mission, and all the missions below the main one, IMHO of course, were all mere great entertainment and similar parts of a side-mission, but those in the real EW-KNOW, know that I speak the truth. The odds of this show beginning just weeks after I first met Ron Wirtz, at the Camden County Prosecutor’s Office in Camden, New Jersey, on the fifth day in December, in 1989; plus a million mathematically impossible to all be coincidences, throughout this wonderful 22 year running show, sorry; this little tuna fish just ain’t buying into any of this malarkey, maitees, and of course, Tuna Charlie, as well. Not only will I forever boycott this network, but I plan to do many other things that pertain to many other things, that have nothing to do with television shows. My civil rights and the right to freedom of expression can be arguably taken into a court room, if I have to represent myself against fifty Manhattan shysters all against me; I’ll still go in with case law, on point decisions, and insist that my rights have been trampled on. I know what has been done to me since I started trying to tell my story seven years ago, and the US Cove Agencies and others married to them in the EW, all colluded to keep me from ever being heard or seen, on the internet. They intentionally try and destroy my spirit as well, by putting songs I posted on Youtube, for one such example, the 2011 song called, ”Wanna’ Spend My time”, up, along a right side column, of nothing but videos that have between 2 and 16 million hits; making me intentionally appear ridiculous, and even the clown to be scoffed at, and ridiculed. Go ahead and think it is all funny, and we will see what the Attorney General of both the state of Florida, as well as the US Attorney’s Office has to say, as my letters to all of them in CC, will be mailed next week, from the local library’s word processor/printer system; and the addresses imparted to me by their reference desk section. I will take just so much abuse, and then I will start to raise a stink, only because I know I am being prevented, blocked, sanctioned, and killed; and this violates MY CIVIL RIGHTS AND UNDER THE USC AMMENDMENT NUMBER ONE. Our founding fathers thought that this right was so important, that it was not the ninth one, or the fourteenth one, or what have you; but no people, it was the very First Amendment to the US Constitution. Now why is this all happening to me? It is not complicated. Long before the PC and the internet all caught on big time, I was under a major invisible problem with some invisible enemy-force; and it did not in any way, start in the computer age. whoever owns and controls this world, and is against me 24-7-365.2422; is going to use any tool against me that I ever attempt to use to pull myself up by the bootstraps and tell my pathetic tale of hellish nightmare woe to the world. They have way too much to lose, to let me successfully ever do this, and since they own the system, them along with all the bratty little worker bees in their army crew; none of these planetary owner/controllers are about to let my story out to the world, any more than would ever let whatever was really going on years ago, with the UFO Phenomenon. Those in charge say that they want an ordered society and openly claim to try and discourage bad things as well as paranoia. Well that is a lie. They feed people’s paranoia by acting so mysterious about so many things, and never allowing anyone with huge problems that seem to connect into things going beyond the normal and natural world order, to ever get any justice, or even any help or assistance whatsoever, and concentrically; they hurt us, ruin us, take away our homes, our jobs; and leave us to fend on street corners, as homeless mother fucking bums, hoping we just die, so they can bury us, and cover us and all the other shit all up, nice and neat and tight; once and for all. Well, I am a fighter and a survivor, and I have been dead a hundred times, and the grave will not ever hold me, as I AM the chosen fucking Huntington, and whoever you all are out here, just know, that you have made yourself a deadly fucking enemy that will not rest until you are maggots. ET.
MORIANITY-4
‘OBTAINING GREAT AND WILD INFORMATION, DAY’
DEAR NON-BEAVER-CLEAVER DIARY-JOURNAL, DID NOT GET UP, GO TO SCHOOL, PET STRAY DOG, COME HOME, AND GO TO SLEEP.
Now let’s get some real wild stuff all out in the open, with the permission of course, of Mister Ward Cleaver! Don’t jive me on the airplane, June Funnygirl.
Oh Dave, it is too bad you are no longer around, you really did miss one hell of a Richie Ryan party, YO. Here is the updated situation for Inspector Louigee Kent Henderson, and his great pal George Reeves Superman, in or out of movie studio lots of KALI4NYA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chuck Sakers, if you’re out there somewhere, I am no longer up that tree, bud, and am down here on the Earth, and WOW is Mister Smith’s blackboard starting to compare with that of the late and great Sir Albert Einstein. Crissake, I’ll be first man at the gate to admit that no one has a perfect handle on truth, falseness, and what life in this world ‘really’ is all totally about, YO! I will have to be careful, Paula King, with this, as I do not want you to get mad at me, and pull both my daughters away from me forever, but I’ll say this little bit here and now, Lieutenant. There are three huge human constants, that when put together is absolutely as powerful as the physics constant of the velocity of the photon. First, everyone develops some kind of agenda after age 3-30, or they are brain-dead houseplants. Second, 99.9999% of the persons on this planet hate the ‘S’ word more than they’ll ever admit in public, and no it doesn’t stand for bowl waste or defecating, but the word SHARE. Third, there is a built in illusion that is intentional, it has to be, making things all appear in a reverse reality. Reverse the majority of things in other words, such as the world appearing as flat, and you get the truth. It will always be a way better than 51% bet, forever and always, and a true honest ‘gamblers’ dream’. Now that this ‘S’ is out of the way, I’ll ‘S’ the big news with all of you, and you’ll need no nose plugs whatsoever, YO! Let me begin with my paranoia, and I will be totally honest with my viewers, that the people that I have been forced to frikkin deal with all of my dam life, have caused me to be very paranoid, if I care to keep on breathing; but it is a good thing to have, despite not being 100% perfect, Mister Bruce Allan Pennock, and MC. But then, since nobody has that license on their wall, I don’t feel all that terrible, YO.
Now there is a county water boil alert that I have to live with for three days and nights that began yesterday morning right around the time I awoke from that first horrific horrendous monstrous nocturnal interaction of facing prison time, and running into a weird transdimensional ADA Ron Wirtz from the CCPO, in New Jersey, only there, he was the District Attorney here in Saint Lucie County, in Florida. There is always something to contend with in life, I know that, and I will not take it as a personal attack, despite many things happening the other day and not just this, the biggest one being the wild all day sleep that came over me, with prison at the heart of the experience, over and over again, old buddy, Salvador!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hay, I hope promoting your video on my blogs is not © infringement, I thought I was doing something helpful and legal, YO! Try making sense out of this rotten old world, YO. But this is not the only stuff I’m ignorant about, the law of the land is quite complex, and ignorance of it is no excuse for breaking it. Still, none of this is making all that much sense, and I’ll come out and admit it outright, as there’s simply no point in denying these truths. But I do know many things that these powerful fuckers are all clueless about, even the great kids of America, and their uppity attitude against us old fucks, who they basically do not like, and think we belong out of ‘their owned internet’, and this is a reality, and a truth; that many of us in older categories, have come to know about in our own clicks now; as not imagined by us, one little bit. What the brats of the planet don’t understand, is 5th dimensional hyperspace, and why exactly they are acting the way that they do, and this brat age for us old fucks does not range from 5-20, but goes up to the high thirties, and that is in appearance in many cases, as if you can successfully fake a younger age, you can remain accepted a while longer. Still, I am going to tell things that will blow some lids off many fucking things on this blog. First, I am stopping to eat my din-din now at one AM-EST. OK, I am back, it is 2:18 now, and I have plenty to tell, but plan to compress a lot of it, and just open up these topics, for later expansion on all of them, at other times; as the month continues along towards the 3-Sadness times of B-BALL!
First, I learned some stuff back on Thursday, as it is now a Friday early morning on February 15, 2013. In the final forty-eighth of the day or half hour, I was downstairs with a dude we will call, for anonymity’s sake, Harry Coffee. Mister Coffee worked with Dell Computers some time ago, and for complex reasons that involve a powerful part of American and global capitalistic systems in place for some time now, let us just say he had some major medical issues and got as many peeps get, royally screwed out of his place in life, wow, can I relate, in or out of Space-Time-Mind, all future Einstein’s out there, somewhere in negative space. Any-ha, let us move this right along, shall we? The two peeps across the hallway from me have nothing to do with him or the security rotation in this building. They are however, part of the crew, as are many, and we can leave things real safely, right about there, or else be trapped in 1968 all over again without a shoebox, or a tap-tab-screen, or compuphone; to get back to the present. That would take a lot of powerful tranced meditation to reach this time again, and the illusion of just reliving it will always be what really happens, all though nothing is real. The mind will tell you that it is real up to about 25,000 miles, but motion is an illusion as well, and tiny fragmented quadrillionths of seconds run together in clicks, and the illusion is created, and if anyone knows what I am talking about because they can relate to it in their occupation or business in some real personal ways, it is Hollywood and the general Entertainment World, or the ‘EW’. But as for the higher dimensions that exist not all around us, but that are created through us, at a MIND SOURCE on the sixth dimension under the realm of Lawtronic Control, where the dream-out from void infinity is the initial stage of everything; but this is the simple fact of all truth, even though for right now, I only have time to touch on two parts of a five dozen part series of subjects, all connecting into this entire deal; and these would be homosexuality, and generation gaps. Normal people are wondering at this point, how these two things could remotely fit into any topic in a singularity, and my response is, good, keep wondering, as I’ll be telling. As we all move in our real higher beingness from interaction to interaction in the ‘spirit world’ or Astral-Plane, we also wear out as a result, and need to recharge. This is why we fall asleep from there, and begin dreaming down lower into material tangible realms of the hyperspace, and the real us is so huge that it needs to be in five dimensions, as three will not work, and this is why space has motion as well as near infinite doppelganger parallels or near and similar as well as not so similar parallel universe four-dimensional space time worlds. As we move into these many many sets of dreaming interactions or waking world so-called physical lives, we are experiencing a human equation as a result of this dreaming process, but it is not to evolve, or grow, or learn; or any of the ideas that humankind as of yet in 2013, thinks they’ve neatly figured out in their little personal or collective zones of comfort and contentment. If the linear past behind our present life has a majority of lives as the opposite gender from a switch over, as normally, we dream 3-5 lifetimes as one gender, then alternate back 3-5 lifetimes as the other gender, and when it switches, we have a good chance of having subconscious adjustment problems in our current switch over first time dream sets. So if we have been males four times and now are born female, we have a great chance for being lesbian, and the reverse is true, switching from four times as females and now are born male, a great chance for being homosexual or having tendencies towards it, is going to exist as a good possibility. The entire thing is totally normal, and nobody is sick or crazy. Still, let us switch over to the other topic, the generation gap. As we dream a series of dreams or have a lifetime here in hyperspace, we tend to leave small breadcrumbs and trails behind. As parts of this energetic dream fabric leaves us, we dream we are a day older and it is the next day, and this process goes on unless we are killed or die in an accident, until the end of our energy, merges with a point in the STM, where it wakes us up from the dreaming; and we awaken where we are at a more true part of our higher selves, on the Astral Plane. But as with the sexual orientations as a result of past dream-sets (lifetimes), these exiting energies propel us forward, but simultaneously, many parts of these energies in their memory equivalents, race back up and try reentering into newer updated parts of our dream-sets. Now in many generations since biblical days, where a gap was discussed right in the bible, so read it and check it out, and see I’m speaking the truth, for yourselves folks; but for a long long period of time now; angry kids who once were only seen and not heard, and were treated as eighth class citizens for the most part; have left parts of this angry memory energy in past times, and they are racing up into newer times such as our present. Now we seem to have reached a wild collective point in history, where an invention has allowed the kids to rule, and their subconscious past vengeance of repressed aggression, is inside of them passionately, and now through these new age times, they can finally act out on this, and they are and have been doing this, since late in the nineteen-nineties; and I’m speaking of the personal computer, the internet, and how the young kids rule for the most part, and do all that they can to discourage and even interfere with older folks ‘invading their territory’; and this is not some nineties new thing, but is because of a collective repressed retaliatory energy, consisting of hundreds, and maybe thousands of years; and this is a very very very dangerous situation,
to say the least, as all adults know; you cannot have kids in control of something this huge, unless you really do want the end of life as we all know it on this planet, to really happen; and I’m not kidding, or exaggerating one small bit here, ladies and freaking gentlemen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I learned tonight, that my query of personal paranoia verses the real truths behind all of this, is indeed, NOT PARNOIA at all. This is known well, by the owners of the computer makers, and the top powerful folks at Google and Microsoft, BUT, BIG ASS FUCKING BUTT, they still are capitalists, and don’t care if the world blows up in 20-40 years; as a result of this huge impending looming doomsday, as they still are after the big bucks, and this won’t ever change; and they know that the money, despite the older people making more of it, is spent more by the younger crowd; so they will always cater to and be on the side, of ‘THEM’, these ‘dangerous KIDS’, and also, I need to add here, that I have come to advance enough in my thinking, and living through the last ten years now, and with careful scrutiny of many things that they could not take away from me and destroy, as they did my original LIFE JOURNAL; to recognize this for what it seemingly is, and yes, I can be all wet in the head and wrong; but I don’t feel I am wrong, so I’ll come out and say what I feel compelled to say. All though it may have begun innocently, in the middle eighties somewhere, as a cool new television channel; now it is the dangerous deadly NICK CLUB, and I think most who are following my blogs, know EXACTLY AND PRECISELY WHAT IS TOTALLY GETTING SAID HERE! There are way too many coincidences for my liking now, since 2006 when this seemed to start, and the best way to deal with this is not to play Scarlet O’Hara anymore, and just hit the nail head on; despite hurricane force winds from the south lands of Tara Karge. I cannot resist this at all R.H. Macy, sorry; W—O—W. So sorry Ambassador Terry Harbor, if my eggs are a little underdone for your taste, and appear to be so scattered over easy, you scramble brain you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, I was wrong about the nabes, they are not the ones. BUTT, I have learned some things over the past day that have elevated my illumination about both computers and life in general, fifty fold. Hurt me all you want to, all of you monster fucking scum, but you cannot kill me, and you fucking know it, TEE HEE HEE LILLY. I have not given up, and I am very close to being able to fight you back with a little more resources than I have had available to me over the past year since young snotty Jessica Grant fired me over at the http://www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ and that is the truth, to quote my late Uncle Stuart Huntington Mason, YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!! Where are you Zvonko-Amtrak-83?
WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!
It is time for me to crash folks, nighty-nite!!!!!!!!
‘MORIANITY-4‘
COMING TO THE END OF A FAMOUS MWM WEIRDAY.
555555555555555555555555555555555
It is a third past eight of the clock in the evening, Thursday, February 14, 2013. So far, there have been doors, a fire alarm, a water boil county alert for the county of SAINT LUCIE, what’s next, how-bout the nuclear plant blowing up, that would solve all my problems, or would it, copper eyeball route 45 of Woodbury in New Jersey in late 1985?
Folks, I have nothing against anyone, it is the world that has hated me first, all along, and always has, and I’ll tell you something else that might just put some starch back in your underwear. This may have had certain illusions that caused me to think that a few times in my past, were points of precise beginnings of some type of unspeakable monstrous evil, but in truth, this half truth is inside my own unintentional deception. We all tend to kid ourselves, especially when we need answers to shit in our lives, and none are ever there to be found; or if shit is so painful in our frikkin lives, that we need to rather than go totally fucking insane, such as when I told that lie about July 12, 1970, on that frikkin Public Transport bus, that ran locally along the White Horse Pike, from the Atlantic City Public Bus Terminal on Arkansas Avenue, all the way into the Public Bus Terminal of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I was wrong, and lost my credibility with that one lie told, on Morianity. Lots of shit in my blogs are my best guesses, but that is the only direct lie I told, and I told it because I was making myself believe that the great SSJKK cared enough for me in this life, to stand up for me, when in reality, she could fucking care less if I had been underneath that god dam bus that night and was crushed. To her, I am just a game and something to have a hell of a lot of fun messing with, and I know this. I’m not the fucking retard that she thinks I am.
Doors, doors, doors, and more doors, what a fucking pain in my ass. How I love living in apartment buildings and complexes. SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!!!!!
When I posted up the blog before this one, I laid down for what I thought would be a ten minute nap, still depressed from my hellish fucking life as well as the hyperspace journey and facing jail time in a part of my fifth dimensional existence. I found myself back at the same flagpoles over in that Port Saint Lucie shopping center mini-mall, and I was so happy that I had removed the three weird red flags that I had hung upside down, and realized one was the American Flag, and I had them all folded and in the trunk of my car, which over in this parallel universe, was a very large an old Cadillac, similar to the one that Stephen Moroni had sold to me back in 1977, while I was employed at that Westville, New Jersey print shop, by the name of Mars Graphics. Suddenly I was in the car and driving back to my residence, only it was back up in the hood, at 25th and Avenue E, in Fort Pierce, and as I drove in the gate, my wife greeted me, that girl that used to live next door to me in that duplex home, managed by April Lee and her dad, Raymond Bailey, don’t go there folks, not with them, not with me, not with Paula King, not with the Pharmaceutical Company of teen make up back in 1988, just don’t. Thank you. Ani-ha, I was married to this girl, Wendy, in this other universe, and she was not like she was here with a very unpleasant personality for the most part, and was very nice; and more like the girl that Gerald Pliner, of the Atco, New Jersey, L&S Nursing Home; had married. I remember telling her I needed to keep the flags in the trunk, and had somehow gotten into some trouble with them, and when I walked into the house, four police officers were waiting to arrest me for the murder of my mother. I told them that Senator Thompson knew all about this investigation, and of course, I had indeed, remembered this other parallel universe now, where those two young teen males were electrocuted by him, for stealing some of my cassette tapes with necessary evidence on them that proved I did not murder my mother. This is all on old blogs from the first few years of blogging, the time era say of 2006-2007, before the Chapter began called, ‘The Epitome of Harassment, Internet Version’. Still, I found myself cuffed and taken to the police station, and then released after a booking, and there seemed to be no bail in this parallel universe, and I just kept my mouth shut as I was being processed and released. I drove back again to the house, only this time, my daughter was there waiting for me, with her family, all of them, all the cousins, all her own family, you name them and they were there, talk about a real motley crew. She asked me the second I walked through the door, to follow her upstairs. There are no stairs, not in this universe, where I AM back here now, and typing this blog. Still, I followed her to what here was a bathroom, only there, it was a long additional hallway and at the end of it was a stairway leading to an upstairs, and I went up with her, and she told me that I would be retaining an attorney, and to call him as soon as I get up and awake the following morning. I asked what she meant, and she gave me a number to call in that other universe, over here, I have no clue who is on the other end, if anyone at all, of this number, but I remember it clear as shit right now, and never wrote it down because it is so vivid, and it was 1866-999-4546. This number in that universe is the number of some real hot shot law firm in Manhattan, who would be defending me; and now here I am losing my mind thinking, what is happening to me, I was all ready going to face charges locally, and thought I had escaped that by getting those fucking ass flags down without being caught, and now, THIS!!!!!!!!! then suddenly I heard shouting and angry voices, and thought an argument was going on downstairs, only I had awakened out of this, and into here again, where my nabes or somebody outside was shouting and making very strange sounds. I think it was a bunch of utility trucks, but it could have been my nabes. I just cannot be sure. It only lasted a minute, and when I got up, I realized how late it was, half past four in the afternoon, I had been back ‘asleep’ for hours and hours of time. Then I remembered the entire nightmare of being faced with prison not once but twice. Some wild shit is going on, it must be! You cannot be experiencing one particular type of ordeal such as facing going to prison, over and over, with nothing going on somewhere, that’s causing this major nightmare dilemma. Jim Burr put it quite eloquently a long while ago folks, ”Stuff doesn’t just happen for no reason”. He is totally correct, and even Bruce Pennock would say this is a ‘perfect’ statement, and that’s sayin’ something, even for Billy, and Sally, and Paul; and all these blow hard ingrates.
A moron can see that something huge is up. How much longer I will be alive, semi-rational and sane, or free to operate without prison confinement, I do not know. I do know that my knowledge and wisdom and truths, ARE INDEED A MAJOR THREAT, TO LOTSANLOTS OF FUCKING POWERFUL ASS PEOPLE, and that does not take some great fantastic ass rocket science to know it, nor does it take any 1995 diner rotisseries, or sticking my arms out in front of me, while thinking about moving forward. I know what I am capable of doing, and I know I have enemies; and so did David Fucking Charles Roth, folks, and he said something, Billy, and the entire US © Office, has the tape, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What are you up to these days, Joan Lap Lanes? You were not imagining what you saw that evening, Joan Baby, as gravitation has no effect on me, because I understand the STM truths.
Well, let me post this blog, and relax with a little dinner at quarter past nine of the clock on this nice cool evening, cool for Florida that is, or cool for time warps, warm holes, Cooley Halls, mysterious Christmas Singing Angels, and Medical Center television shows with interesting fictional character names with bombs inside their dads, as well as future angry wife abusers. I AM so thirsty, I will now post this up and drink some nice cool orange juice, but not out in the hall, that might be a little too cool, right 10 Kal Coolio? Well, I learned long ago, that even in the middle sixties, the entire fucking EW seemed to know all about poor little fucking ass me, pity party aww time, tears tears. SCREW-U!
MORIANITY-4
THIS IS GOING TO BE A VERY BAD DAY TIMES EXPONENT 9
*****BT*****
I awoke at 8 AM, out of very horrendous vivid ‘nightmares’. Doors and in and out slams are bad, and they were bad since 12:30 this morning, illegally slamming after hours, DEBBIE MAROTTO. I will see you in your frikkin office tomorrow morning. We have a lot to discuss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It is now 10:08 AM-EST, on this messed up but lovely cool overcast weather-wise, Thursday Mouuuuuuuuuuurning, here in Fort Pierced, Florida, and may the blood drip down all over my red shoes. LSS, 25 years ago on this very day, I was having a SUPER BOTBAR DAY, over at my midnight to noon security guard job, at the AMERICAN HONDA PLANT, on Gaither Road, in Mount Laurel, New Jersey. The United States Copyright Office has this whole mess on fucking cunt cassette tape. I was there with David Roth, my relief guard; not a lot different than here at this PH Building, only we weren’t attempting to run any Geraldine Snow Shah con games, or snow jobs on anybody. We were merely innocent targeted victims, by those with great power; and as the © Office examiners know quite well, we had none, and still don’t; so what can we ever do to fight this fucking asshole horrific monster of demonic fucking hell, YO??????????? They say nothing really changes in this life, and I TOTALLY SUPPORT THAT MOTHER FUCKING THEORY, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So any-ha, in this nocturnal interaction straight from hell, that woke me up with a slam bang Batman Adam West jolt, that even lowlife neighbor doors at their worst, would be envious of; I was in Port Saint Lucie, the next town over to my south, at a shopping center, not all that far from where the Federal Local Social Security Office is located, right on Federal Highway, or Route-1, same diff; and I had three large flags that I had hoisted up onto three tall flagpoles, bright red, with wild designs, and backward. Ron Wirtz came along out of nowhere, and he told me that the authorities in town, want me to be brought to justice, for doing this; and that I would have to do some jail time. When I asked how much, he said not a whole lot, but some. I told him that I had no memory of even putting these flags up. He did not look like the Ron I knew, and was a much larger and taller man, and a lot younger; younger than me by as much as ten to fifteen years, whereas here in this universe, where I’m typing this blog; he was more like closer to twenty years my senior. As I was speaking to him at this mini-mall parking lot, he said that I should try coming back late at night, and take them down, and hope I am not caught by the authorities looking to prosecute me, in Port Saint Lucie. Now in this parallel universe, where I’m typing, I do have a judgment filed on me from JC Pennies for an outstanding debt, and other folks will also be filing against me soon; as thanks to what happened to me back in New Jersey, with the Monster King branch of THAT-FAMILY-1970 as I call them or (TAWF-70); my credit has been totally mother fucking wrecked, ruined, and is shot to fucking ass hell. Still, you don’t go to prison for owing money when you legitimately are broke, and cannot repay; and am saving dribbles and drabs, towards another personal full Chapter Seven Bankruptcy, like the one I declared back in the year 2004, on that horrible day of flashmob super-sluts, and gangs of enemy kids, surrounding me everywhere I tried to go. As with that day, today, and many other days; I would not set foot outside of my apartment, not for all the fucking free love in the whorehouse. I remember my twenty-fifth anniversary of this horrible fucking hellish day, back in 1988, at the American Honda Plant, all too cunt eating well; ladies and freaking gentlemen, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!
It will be an interesting challenge later, to see if I can win any units with my hypothetical systems-roulette play, and maybe, just fucking cunt lapping MAYBE, I’ll decide to blow some minds, and tell about this system. Used by regular normal folks, that are not under some monster fucking ass Huntington-Curse, this could theoretically just about shut down the fucking casino game of roulette, and their biggest fucking money-maker. You won’t like me when I’m angry either, Doctor David fucking Bixby Banner, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You know a lot of peeps don’t know this fact of Hollywood gossip, but when that Hulk-Dude, who I envy so much, not because of his big muscles, but because he cannot be persecuted with SOUND like I can, as he barely can hear; but did you know that he really did flip over that automobile in that pilot episode show, where the first DeGama radiation hit him, and his first change-morph, occurred out beyond his laboratory? This was wired up to flip over, but the system broke, and he was so pissed off out in the rain and had been shooting all day long on the set; and he did it all himself, out of anger. This is what I am talking about with many things in Morianity. Here we have a fictional television show, about a man who when he gets angry, becomes this hulk character. Then on the very pilot episode, a real life circumstance presents itself that matches the theme of the show. You can fact check this with any good reliable Hollywood source. There is powerful magic in Hollywood, especially back when things were done with analogue recording. Things do tend to come to pass in strange ways, if certain things are recorded and re-recorded, and played back, on analogue apparatus. When they found all this out through ”ME”, in the seventies and early into the eighties, this is why they began altering, and turned this entire deal into a digital-world. When I say I’ve changed this timeline, it is not exaggeration, but an under-exaggeration if anything; and that’s merely one example. There are a good dozen more of them, I assure and promise you all of ‘THAT’, fiends and friends, and Sir Roddenberry Rockdroid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now for the study of the OFF-GRID time of 2008, and the way something must have gone down during this period, as my blogs, just as SSJKK said to me in a deep trance a few weeks ago, maybe a month now; reflect a whole different theme, pre off-grid time, and post off-grid time. I have made a copy blog not yet posted, where I have altered the printing to a different color, at powerful critical key places, that indeed show me what the great SSJKK was referring to; and I feel I’m only starting to really get the whole picture, as something must have happened; similarly to Paula visiting me in early summer time in 1996, at Highview Apartments, and all the times on Tennessee Avenue, when I have no memory of stuff, like CALLIO giving me her name over Bob McGuire’s bar telephone, on February seventh, in 1997; and nearly a decade later in my car, with Edward Himacane Lynch; where our video-cam, picked up what we have no memory at all of ever happening. So don’t tell me that this ‘family’ is not from far beyond the stars, and realities, of this cosmic egg, folks; as I fucking know totally better, BRAH!
After that horrible incident of thinking that I AM going to have to go to jail, I physically woke up feeling as though I had been struck down by a cunt chewing freight train. By the way, some of the forgotten names on the list of those who promised they would help me on the computer, besides what I listed earlier, would be Kelly, Sigmund, and Rick. I will bet one million fucking mega-dollars US, that Ryan will let me down as well this year; as he already let me down with that horrible mickey mouse voice that he told me I would like, but then; I know this was an entirely shifted hyperspace move, and once you have experienced your share of these fucking Incollingo Chocolate Cupcake incidents and accidents; ‘you know what you know’, and nobody will ever talk you out of it, because simply re-stated, YOU KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I knew I shoulda’ stood my ground, in or out of freaking Florida, back in the summer of 1980 with dirt-bag Lenny McKinnon, and said I’ll bet you a million dollars that you will never help me become a paid songwriter. Even Paul Pedersen, got my shit played around the world, and that is quite an experience to tell my great grand children all about someday. For right now, my attitude is like General George Patton’s. It’s simple and it’s short and dirty, and gets the point across; as neither one of us are, or were; looking to win any fucking popularity contests. ‘FUCK THE WORLD, BABY’! I have my own huge set of monster ass problems, peeps; so that’s that! WOW!!!!!!!!!!!! ***ET.***
MORIANITY-4
CHRIS BENNETT, EDWARD LYNCH, AND LIFE JOURNALS
When I was fired from Griffin Pipe Company at their Florence Township, New Jersey plant, by jerk off dick head nasty ass mother fucker Jimmy Stone, it was not that further along where I was employed on weekends at a totally different job, and back on my social Security Disability, as I went off of it a short while while attempting to hold a full time position at Assets Protection in Pennsylvania, and suffered a major psychotic breakdown after horrendous ‘MILITUFORCE’ continual harassment and persecution. If this was a fair world, I would be a mother fucking billionaire, and they would all be sued for every cunt lapping fucking penny that they are worth. But it is not a fucking fair world, not one cunt lapping little tiny bitching bit. This phony loving father god of the bible is nothing but a horrible hoax, this planet has been invaded by monstrous fucking evil that can be equated with old world terms and words and just say SATAN is everywhere, as it really makes no difference how the words jumble up all together. It’s what’s being said, right Billy and Sally Pickpocketers? This entire rotten sick world can go do things that even my fowl ass language would have limits on detailing.
I will say to the President of my country, that I enjoyed his address tonight, and thought that this was the very best Presidential Speech I have heard since before the Reagan days. Keep up the good work, my friend, and watch out for the you know who’s, despite the not always truth telling internet. If it is true, sir, I hope you were able to come out of all of this unscathed in all aspects, as it left me quite damaged, far beyond any repair; but if one of us got out and is ok, well, that is better than the old goose egg number, and by the way, I believe in you, and if anyone can fix things for the little frail weak folks like myself, I know it is you, so you know I am for you 100%, sir! I am just very angry at the billionaire scum bags of the WOMO for all the evil crap that they’ve perpetrated on me for so many years now, and if anyone knows this is all true Mister President, it is you, sir.
Ladies and gentlemen of the internet who read Morianity and laugh and scoff at the crazy retard, MWM, or me; whassup, YO? I know this story is all hard to buy into, but I also know I am telling the dam truth, and I don’t hate disbelievers, I cry for them, and for myself, because this world is doomed, maybe not for many years, but really, what is the fucking cunt diff, YO? The joke is on me for I know that this all is not real, I don’t believe or theorize this, I know it. I know I’m in VOID, and dreaming out and away from it, in this fucking royal experience of TOTAL HELL! Still, I managed to make 4 units on my systems roulette play earlier back last night. It is now Wednesday morning, the thirteenth of February, 2013. If anyone ever told me or anyone else who is my mother fucking age, back in the cock sucking nineteen sixties; that these personal computers and this internet bullshit, would be here up in this messed up screwy ass fucking future; I would have laughed you out of a face. LSS, it is here, so is my choking gland condition that nobody can ever diagnose, so are lots of things, ranging from hypothetical daughters given to me by not so hypothetical mothers, and two folks who I met, one young and one old, or a more PC way of putting this would be, ‘not so young’, wow we live in a world of shit, walking on endless eggshells, worrying at each little fucking turn if we’re gonna’ offend somebody by smiling at them, or not smiling at them, by holding a door for them, or not holding it, and you all can just go on loving this life ’till; doomsday, but if you ever started really smelling your fucking morning coffee, blond or brunet, whaaaaaa; you’d quickly come to see and realize, that this is fucking HELL, and I don’t care how much money you have, or how great a lover, or whatever. My life is total shit and hell, but you know peeps, I can tell you that if I had the entire world tomorrow, it would not make me one bit happier, merely allowing me to suffer endless misery in more luxurious surroundings, and get a lot of jerk off creditors off of my back, and that would be the dam ass extent of things, YO.
When you have had the experiences that I have had, you could be handed anything after that, and you would still be totally fucking miserable. I have not been the same since early June in 1980, not really, not after having Goddess Scylla sing that tune called, ”Love Is for Carpenters”, to me in my ”sleep”. But if shit had all stopped there with 1969 and then 10 and a half years later with this; that would have been enough to blow anybody from here to Planet Whack, but that was just the opening of a 33 year long and counting, movie; with or without any whispering names, whispering ghosts, whispering cats, goddesses, and mysterious Doctor Doogie Howser technicians, Watergate Jacobson’s, Estelle Bassler’s, and more recently; Christopher Bennett’s and Edward Lynch’s. I cannot resist it here Mister Macy, sorry old buddy; like fucking W——-O——-W! This doesn’t even start telling how many times I have crossed over, back and forth, using your idea of linear time, afterlife existences, and other such hocus Frisbee pocus stuff from Serling’s great twilight zone.
Yes, All Mighty Teen Queen, I did what you wanted, and am all ready seeing some major stuff. I will shoot up a mind bending blog that will include the last three and the first three chapters, of both February 2008 as well as May of 2008. I think I see what you wanted me to see, and please don’t make your wonderful mysterious pipe friend endlessly beat me at Rock-Paper-Siccors, not even at the speed of light, or the speed of light squared. There is a big difference between 186,000 MPS and 34 billion miles per second, but there is no difference at all about the constant reality, just as he can constantly beat anyone at games, after-all, he is the games-expert, but then you are the great Scylla Goddess. Yes Tom Glenn, do you remember that day you came over, and we had fun recording that shit? The entire US © Office has a copy of it. I don’t know why I felt so compelled to send them that, but I do know that it all is part of SPACE-TIME-MIND, and understood or not, is the answer to all queries indeed. For more exact answers, we use the Gawky Gaukauk Numerological systems however, and say hello to your friends at the NFL. Hope you’ve been well all these years, while I’ve been here in HELL. My entire story, long before this tiny speck of 7+ years of internet blogging, was on twelve thousand or so cassette tapes. This was all cleverly taken away from me, by a mysterious ”IMP” AKA a very ancient and mythological character, me’ laddies; that we can just call, for right now; and borrow the lingo from old now most likely deceased Philly DJ folks, ‘Mindless Tape Recorder’. It is so incredible that the three dozen persons on this planet who fear me, know what I know, and believe me. Everyone else will just say, oh yeah, good old asshole Mountainpen, is he for fucking real/e, Tommy? Hay tatatatatatatatatata-Tom, do you have no shame or guilt, you rotten dirty bastard? How much of that material gain were you given, to fucking screw me all up, Mister Property-Rich? Yes, Chris Bennett told me to blog, Ed Lynch showed me how to do it better, but who was around when everything went right smack dab into the fucking shit fan, BRO? At first, I thought I was better off for having Jimmy Stone fire me on September 1, 2004. Now I can see that he was a SENDBACK POPUP, right robber thief VH-1???????????????????? WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
Time for me to crash and burn, folks, wait a fucking minute, I crashed and burned up a hell of a long eternity ago. What am I saying? Ani-ha it is 2:22 now, this MOANIN’ MOUUUUURNING, and time for me to go to bed. Sorry if I have not lived up to some god dam mother fucking expectations of someone or something out here. I did the best I could, so get an old phone book from the early seventies and look up Pennock, 2 Beaver Drive, Barrington, New Jersey, and talk to BRUCE. He’ll give anyone interested the lowdown on how I am not perfect, only human, just like all of you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sorry if that disappoints anyone. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! No one will ever show me how to do anything, I try to post shit, it all fucks up, I post a photo of a lovely waterway in the daytime, and now it is magically and ‘leprechaunically’ changed into a night traffic shot, well, the magic leprechauns are part ‘ODF’ (OF) some complex internet hyperlink attachment systems, but to me, it is all magic, because Patty Jane won’t reveal to me, how the great parlor tricks are done; or show me a fucking dam ass thing; nor will any of his fucking associates and colleagues in the world of ‘all-of-us-interconnected’. And then you tell me I have not died and gone into fucking HELL. Yeah, then how come I know that I’ve died and been killed a hundred times, and keep coming back as though what took me out was just a dream, hay man, it can’t be a dream forever, YO? This is my endless fucking ‘HUNTINGTON HELL’, huh Aunt Ruth of Babylon, so say fucking hi to the Firefox Pharaoh for me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BYE-BYE!
55555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555.
TOLD YOU GINA, DOW OVER 14K, AND IT WILL BE UP 1000 POINTS THIS WEEK, AND EVERY WEEK NOW FOR A YEAR.
MORIANITY-4
WOULDA COULDA SHOULDA IFS, AND THE REAL ‘IF’ BEHIND IT:
It is three minutes past two on a Tuesday afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. The date is February 12, in 2013 AD. These are the blogs of MORIANITY. They began when I resided in Hammonton, New Jersey in early 2006, and now just more than 7 years later, they have been ongoing for just over three years here in Fort Pierce, Florida, with or without my wonderful pal Jimmy Carter’s Peanut Farm, or the nearby Peanut Island to the south of me by less than a hundred miles or somewhere thereabout. Most of my monthly errands have been all completed, with only getting my taxes done at the library, and making a few telephone calls, left on the agenda to take care of. II\\\/|/|//\|//\//|///\\|//|\\II|/I|
Goddess All Mighty and Christmas Tree Angels, all aside and notwithstanding, or left standing, Judge Wilinski, and eccentric artists on strange islands; I would like to ask you just what you were running away from, Howard Solomon, Lenny McKinnon, and others from the early nineteen-eighties, as I seemed to have followed suit, yet am the only one aware of it on some conscious level, or subconscious Coolie Hall Level, back in 1972 somewhere; am I right beautiful awesome goddess Sarah Jacobson? Here’s a ‘woulda/coulda/shoulda’, if ever there was one, Ida told that lovely goddess to stay with me forever and never ever leave me, if I could do that one ”all over again”, but this just leads me to the ten years before the incident recently discussed where the IF (Interaction Force) MIND-HACKED me or did a ”Tennessee Avenue” on me, would be an alternate way of describing this; AS I WAS ALL SET TO TELL ABOUT A MAJOR POWERFUL DREAMING INTERACTION, and poof, right out of my mind it all went.
Here is what I wanted to tell you, and some may know or remember this incident, that occurred while I fell asleep a short while, in a room filled with ‘MIND’, machine mind; but still MIND, a huge mainframe computer room, while a place was being constructed, a large office building on Atrium Way, just off of Route 73, where I had lived on, just one residence prior to my then Mullica Mobile Manor; owned by the great Mizz Drinkwhale Plageman, AKA pretty but nasty ‘Jenny’.
It was Easter Sunday of 2001, Sunday the fifteenth of April, a date I’ll never ever forget, just as with the one before that one, Mister President Roosevelt sir, Pearl Harbor Day in 1996, or the seventh of December, at precisely five in the morning.
I had fallen asleep all alone in the middle of a bunch of huge mainframe computers, that were all going to be linked up to many individual office cubicles on the next week, after the holiday. I was on a very comfortable chair with a high back, and was tired, and ended up before I knew it; no longer being aware or conscious, to this waking world here. I was now exploring the vast fifth dimensional hyperspace, or ”dreaming”, as you might put it. This is when I found this other doppelganger me at a huge beyond a human mortal ability to even start describing this place, but a gigantic cliff just outside a huge cavern that went down for miles and had underground rivers and huge areas of clearings that were all brilliantly lit up with light chains, or a series of some strange naturally growing phosphorescent biological F&F or other stuff, that acted as reflective mirrors along a pathway of endless laser tunnels. Only this was a cool light, and magnified infinitely, never got hot, and did not burn; but merely glowed bright and colorfully. When I had come out of that cave, I stood at the cliff that overlooked a huge beach like no beach on this planet. I was a surfer there, and had my board laid against a large stone. A strong wind was blowing, yet this light surfboard remained in perfect place, and did not blow away and down off the cliffs onto the beaches half a mile below me and a good two miles wide, leading to an ocean of water with 500 foot slowly moving perfect waves in perfect sets. Suddenly Lightnings very best friend approached me, and I did not know who she was at this part of things, and she laughed when she saw me try and pick up my board and begin to walk away from this park and back towards a long winding road leading into an area of blocks and blocks of small structures and businesses, and eventually to a place on the left side of this road, called, ‘Murray’s Soda Shop’, a duplication of an American nineteen-fifties soda shop, right down to the last detail.
DIANA, my ‘LIGHTNING GODDESS’, had this all prearranged with her very best friend, who here by the way, was and maybe still is; with the Atlantic City Beach Patrol, WBST is www.acbp.com/ and used to be accessible on that site. You could not miss this beyond super hot blond. She was short, buxom built, with lovely bright yellow hair, a beyond red hot dish to say the least; and a nice and friendly person as well.
Long Story Short, or (LSS), she had me come into the soda shop with her, and immediately she and Diana were whispering and giggling together, and then she sat down at a table, and Diana came right up to me, and I still did not remember who I was, where I was, or who Diana Arteemis was. She got a real kick out of this, and she came right up to me with her beautiful smile, and stared down at me from her lovely tall height, and just kept smiling at me; knowing all along, that I did not know who I was, or anything else, for that matter. I know that those huge online and powered up mainframe’s all around me back in the life where my body laid there dreaming, caused this powerful interaction. I fell so madly in love with Diana, all over again, totally forgetting that I all ready loved her in eternity there, and this is why I tease the old Munsters show with their episode where Lilly Munster and her husband Herman are working at a shipyard, and fall in love all over again, without knowing who they were; as they were doing welding on these ship, they had to wear protective masks; and could not see each other’s face, or hear each other’s voices normally. I always say that no matter how many times DIANA and I would be put together, with a full memory swipe-erase, we would always fall in love over and over again. Diana is the second person of what mortals call the godhead or Trinidad, if pronounced more in far southwestern parts of the land masses of this world such as South America. Closer to where most are reading these words, this word translates into Trinity. ‘TY’ or ‘DAD’, interestingly enough for many reasons, we need not painfully get into right here and now, old spy Sharon, and Mister High School Guidance Counselor Jockamini of the late sixties; are interchangeable from root words, such as is MARTIN root word, becomes suffixed with EZ in Spanish, or O for the Italians. The root word of electrici also can end with either the ‘TY’ or the ‘DAD’. English say ‘electricity’, while Spanish say electricidad. I always used to love that Delaware connection with the policeman and the highway maintenance-man, that made the news so much during huge snowstorms, back when I Iived up in Jersey; you would see them switch over from Trinidad to Martino, and WOW, Mister Macy, did I get a kick out of that, and had to wipe off some bloody mace can shoes, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Learn to laugh at it all world. My kid has taught me some great stuff, or then, really; did she get this first from me, by reading old Morianity? I think we both know which way this went down, but I am always only too happy to do anything that I can, for this marvelous, wonderful, and unfathomable goddess! Now MICROSOFT CORPORATION seems to have started a hack; insisting there is no such word as ‘LIVED’ as when I said, ‘back when I lived in Jersey’. So let me end the blog for now and post it up to my WordPress, and my Blogger sites, YO!!!!
| ||||||||||||
REALITY THREE, AND THE OLD TWILIGHT ZONE SHOW:
Any fan of the old black and white Twilight-Zone television show, knows what I am about to discuss. It is the episode where aliens land on the outskirts of a town, disrupt everyone’s phones and cars and electricity, and get them to all turn on each other. It also is what I touched on just a small bit, in my 2008 and 2009 blogs back when I resided in New Jersey, and called it ‘Reality-Three’. All the people in town were running around scared and paranoid, accusing each other of being the monster, or behind the invasion of monsters, and what have you; and this was the exact plan of the evil invaders on the UFO. The show ended with the one evil prick saying to his associate, how this is an example of how they would conquer this planet, going town to town, one to another, one to another, one to another. Each person involved in the nightmare of being at the mercy of this wicket plot to take over the world, had a million names that would be equivalent to my naming stuff like WOMO, OTAMM, IF, LAMBRIGG CULT, or MILITUFORCE; and on and on. Each began to see the stuff going on, as coming from others in the neighborhood, and it ended with them all destroying each other. Now fortunately for all of you, who may be reading this MORIANITY; there are no evil UFO INVADERS, there are no plots in that conventional way, of taking over or destroying our world, and so on. However, there is something 1000 times more real and powerful than if this was what was going on. Still, I need you to see, and understand, just this little bit of my telling you about this fictional old sci-fi television show; so you then will be able to go on and compare it to what I will now tie in, that is not one bit made up fiction. Also bear in mind, that this is just the most recent stuff around me here in Fort Pierce, Florida, and does not begin to be some all inclusive report or biography of my entire inconceivable life of hellish nightmarish and unexplained endless horrendous mysteries, that separate me from society, and the ability to ever have any kind of near normal life.
Why Debbie Morotto, my office resident manager of this PH Building, and more wonderful initials that are endlessly ‘inescapable as promised, hot or cold’; thought that this Dell guy would help me, is unknown to me. It may be all innocent and flower-rosy, and it may have darker agendas like ‘HA-HA Bikes and Choppers’ I can never know these things for sure unless I could take about ten people out to an alligator swamp, tie them up, and beat and torture them; until one of them told me the truth, about what has been happening to me for 50 fucking years. I do not plan on doing anything like this, but without taking such wild action, I will not ever get the answers that I need, and I KNOW THAT, 100%!
At first, this dude was going to help me, and one thing led to another, and now he has no time to help me; maybe in a month or two, and how would ‘MY’ say or put it, ”Oh yeah, right”? Let us do a long dirty laundry list of folks who said they would help me with my computer, and never would. Mister Dell is the most recent one, and then going back and hopefully not forgetting, or omitting anyone; we would have Dennis, Camille, Meagan, Jasper, Eric; and I know that I am missing quite a few all in-between these names, as this is very depressing; and folks wonder, gee Mark, why do you get depressed, and lash out against the world, and curse and say that people are rotten, and no good at all? Well if I have to explain it, then doing so is just wasting everyone’s time. But the story is a lot bigger than this. At this building, the security has 24-7 guards at the ground floor security desk, that rotate on 4 hour shifts. The guard who relieves the Dell guard, lives right next door to the noisy nabes directly across the hall from me, and they all are friends and go in and out of each others’ apartments on a very regular basis. A door closes around three every morning, as well as seven every morning; and that is the neighbor next door to the nabe across from me, going to relieve the Dell Guard, and then coming back, each day, all seven days; and I came to learn from the Dell guard, that these shifts are 28 hours per week, all seven days, and he told me that his relief guard lives on my floor. It was my nabe who also knocked on my door and thought that I was hacking him, the day that Chase Morgan Dennis from the Public Library, was over here back on the eighteenth day of last December. I do not know what game, Debbie the office manager, is playing with me; but I do know that I will either get to the bottom of it this week, before this week is over; or I am driving to the State Capitol, and they’ll have to lock me up if they won’t hear my story, and make at least a modicum of effort to help look into my problem, whatever it really is, Doctor 1984 Sorethroats Doogie Howser. But the point I AM attempting to make here people is really not all that complicated. I AM not trying to prove my Stockholm Kidnapping by the most powerful EXPLORATRON FAMILY in the multiverse. I am not trying to prove the mathematical and statistical odds of the Pope choosing the church right down the road from the house where my bloody shoes were kidnapped into by Ann and Dawn-Marie King, out of what, millions of other possible churches of Roman Catholic religion, all across the rest of the Continental United States. I am not trying to prove how HADDONWOOD CLUB was some sort of an EXPLORATRON cosmic meeting place for the other ES, not the beautiful tall building. I am not trying to prove the details of intricacy on rocket science and propulsion, Quantum Dynamics; or any other issue, that is much ahead of the fourth grade lesson books. I am just saying that if you do not know of that particular Twilight Zone show, then ask your library or some video rental or sales place near your location, to get it for you on a DVD or a BR, or whatever; then watch it; and then understand how M4 is going to really be getting into R3, and not just getting into it; but it will also be the theme, all throughout it as well, my friends and my fiends.
I went to my doctor today, and more strange stuff is happening to me. He will not be in until a week from now, and they do not reschedule patients, or at least they do not do this for me. They just make you see other associate doctors, who will not write my scrips. So I have a new appointment to see him next month. If the games continue; as for some time, I think that he is trying to lose me as his patient, and will not come out and say it to my face, with all this crazy so-called insurance changing junk, and other stuff; and scheduling me on days he is not there, and so on, then it will be time to get a new doctor. I have too much on my mother fucking plate, to have this narc-squad fucking crap hanging over my head on top of my already beyond mother fucking miserable nightmare endless hellish life and sub vampirism, without the lovely company of Roseann. If they force me to leave the states, and move south of the border, where this particular problem would be over forever, then that is what I’ll have to do in March, as I am not going to choke to death, while these fucking family dirt bags all sit around laughing at me and cheering me on, to go six feet underground. I’m a survivor, and you will not kill me, mother fucking jerk offs, and THAT, Sir Rockdroid, I’LL PROMISE YOU; SHARON OTHEROUCH CROSSDRESSERSPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It is only a matter of time, and I will fucking do something that destroys this entire planet, if you god dam fucking LAMBRIGG REALITY-3 bastards, don’t get the hell out of my fucking OJ life, and leave me the fucking shit alone! So BE
CAREFUL P.B. KING, and Mister Mayor Future-Knower of ’97.
MORIANITY-4
4:29 PM-EST, 02/10/2013
Another Beginning That Has No Real Ending:
BT:
This has been a super fucking BAD WEEKEND. My jerk off noisy neighbors have been shouting in the hallway, and wearing out the doors all weekend long; and this began back in the middle late part of last week, and is getting only worse; and tomorrow, I’ll stop in and see the Resident Manager, to complain, AGAIN; Miss Debbie Morotto.
The scum bag INTERACTION FORCE (IF) formerly known as the WOMO MILI-2-FORCE and LAMBRIGG CULT of Phase-2-Reality (spirit-world or Astral Plane) hit me hard, with a horrendous fucking bowel and shit and cramping attack, and left me quite ill this entire weekend, as well. I TOLD YOU ALL, that there would be repercussions and consequences for telling so much fucking shit on recent blogging texts, YO! Am I on the money or not with many incredible things, lovely Giant-Gina of the nineties, sweetie???????????????????
MAGNESONIC, scan all of my filth bag cock sucking enemies, for total destruction and obliteration. Use maxed out power, and all general and special orders; and hear my double tones for transpower block empowerment, under a punishment sequencing system of an ‘I’ to ‘D’, A/B Tone System, that is now switched to you, connecting into my mind directly, and hearing my ‘EEEEE’ sound from my sixth dimensional connectiveness. You are at max-power of 11.8 IPNS, with all controls against your pull power gain at 11.5. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE********EEEEEEEEEEEEEE. G-901, under CG-18, AND STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I will tell a gigantic TRS from the days of 2007 and RATS-TATS-&-PLAYING REAL JS WEIGHT WATCHERS FOOTBALL. I know I was MIND-HACKED, and will go on to tell at a later time, what I started to tell a few blogs ago back in M3M3, and you will get another dose of mind blow, but for now, a different door will be removed from Scylla’s great wonderful Lakehouse of transformation, and calling out of names; huh Billy Pocketpicker Harner?
You know, I will tell you what happened now first, before I forget again, and there are other unhacked mental things, but this can wait for Jim Rockford, and his filed teeth of the seventies. It took place at Publix where I do my shopping for certain items, and where the weird character from the library, works as well. A man brushed next to me in one of the aisles, and I thought he might be a pickpocket, and instantly, I checked, and nothing had been removed from my pockets; but there was something added into one of them, a back pocket on the left side that I never use. He put a note in there, that I did not become aware of until getting home and listening to that strange paranoid voice we all get inside ourselves from time to time, telling me to check the rear pockets. All it said was, and I am quoting from it as I have no intention of losing it, and am reading from it as I type, ”Your death-bed confession tape with future Governor Florio of New Jersey will indeed become a reality before too much longer, and you’ll never guess who will be making it”. Does this powerful note, that reminds me an awful lot of the Colaman days, and the mailbox, back in Hammonton, New Jersey; send any Donna Gaines chills or goose bumps up any spines out there, in the United States Copyright Office, either now, or speaking of the late eighties when this Florio tape crap was going down live; back then; and would anyone blame me, if I typed in your wonderful word, Mister R. H. Macy, as this is exactly what I AM going to do, YO? W——–O——–W!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now for the major totally untold TRS Dejour, of the endlessly sanitized ninnynut, all French models notwithstanding, TEE-HEE-HEE, Lilly Munster, all over again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My father, and Project Aunt Jeannie, and pillow talk; is not limited to ‘STAR TREK MOVIES’, and how he knew intimate details of these future videos, years ahead of time, in January of 1974 when they were not made until around 1978 or 1979, at the beginning point where numerous ones followed the first one, and yet, out of ten things he spoke in his ”sleep” about, in the wee hours of a few mornings; only one seems so fitting to tell you now folks, as my TRS for this day in retaliation for all of this fucking pummeling and persecution. He spoke of certain things that did not make sense to me until the very end of the entire twentieth century, after I had joined the ECKANKAR for a couple of years back from 1997-2000. He never spoke that name, but he spoke of something I never would have witnessed without them in my life, something he owns, worlds away from here, called, Island Universe Diners of Akoslem. When I mentioned the name Akoslem later around noon that day, while we were writing a letter together to a mail order business owner by the name of Paul Michaels, he scribbled something totally illegible onto the scratch page that I later typed as the copy sent to Mister Michaels on the following day. When he wrote me back, the exact same strange blot of seeming scribble, was on the letter from Paul Michaels, even though it was a typed letter. This has been a powerful mystery that has eaten me alive for years, and I just never felt like blogging about it, as just where exactly does this shit fit into anything that seems to pertain at least so far, to me and Morianity? I don’t have this old thing, and it was not lost as a result of my running away from the King Branch of THAT-FAMILY from nightmare-1970, and I’ll admit that. Still, a powerful memory, in the name of heaven I totally swear this is true has come back to me; and I know that in the center of this wild weird scribbling; were the same two letters of 1997 and Goddess Scylla, only they were superimposed, on top of each other. I know this, and would ‘stake’ my frikkin life on it, Roseann Delaney; careful girl, that hurts, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now a day after receiving the letter back from Paul Michaels, where he responded to a business proposal that I had come up with, as I too was going to be attempting to begin a mail order business, after my dad left early in February, to go to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, until he came back in the summer time somewhere in 1975, a year and a half later, right after I got the shit knocked out of me by those two lifeguard mascots in Atlantic City, New Jersey; for doing nothing wrong, or to them, in any way; for me to deserve getting, as Charles Barkley puts it so frikkin eloquently, ”an ass whooping”. But after getting this letter from Mister Michaels, the next day; my dad dropped out of a large laundry bag, while he was rummaging around in it for something, in front of both my mom and me; a second wallet, and it opened up, and right in the billfold part, lots of blank paper just popped out and unrolled; and inside that, was a marriage license that showed that my father had married a woman named Monica. My mom grabbed it, and handed it to me, and then my dad just stood there not quite knowing what to do. Now bear in mind, that my mother initiated a divorce, years back in the late sixties; on the grounds of desertion. There is a lot to discuss about all of this, and many enemies in the ‘WOMO’, know a lot as well, as does the Fisher family of treasure salvers, right here in the Saint Lucie County’s world famous Treasure Coast. I will tell a lot more about this, and other pillow talk that proves my dad, along with his great Princeton Park pal, the one and only Albert Einstein, a long time ago during the great World War 2; also interconnected this mind blowing family of mysterious dreams, washcloths, intrigue, and disaster. The story has not yet unfolded to its final conclusion, yet I will tell it as it continues to go down. And why will I do this, oh great Swami of Egg Harbor City, Terry Scatterbrain Glasseshater? Well, because, as with Mount Everest, it’s there; only unlike the mountain and many other fantastically named mountains far away; it needs to become known about by the waking world, and without my telling it, the great ‘Sanitation Ops’ will prevail. For now, ET.
WHAAAAAAAAA
One Response to “MORIANITY-4 THE OPENING COMPILATION BY KING NEBNOOSHOO, PON-1988”
Leave a Reply
%d bloggers like this:
Mountainpen's Blog
February 19, 2013 at 3:22 am | editWHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!