MORIANITY-3-CHAPTER
XIII
2:06
AM-EST, FEBRUARY 7, 2013
Please
be advised, I screwed up the date on a recent blog, printing January
instead of February, sorry about that agent 86, and Chief Max of the
BFA.
Lads,
Lassies, Labbers, and Labradors; what an asshole I was for not seeing
a lot of shit. Of course, when you are right there with all the
lights shining on you, in or out of truck stops and music hits of the
early eighties; it is not always such a simple task to accomplish,
still; I will be willing to kick myself in the ass for letting the
folks in Atlantic City, with a lot more to hide than distant
clans-folk any day of the years, misdirect and misguide my efforts,
to blog my story, with a lot of great help from their friends, no
doubt. I told you how shady they all were, right lovely Jennifer
Muscles Washburn? Matches McGuire, the mighty Trinity Pool swimmer
Sarah Callio, and so many lovely people, from Matty Weightblocker, to
beatemup mascot lifeguards, to mysterious agenda filled politicians,
and the list goes on forever, and no, old friend Tom Dooley, they
cannot fire me, or cheat me out of life, that constant is not
changeable. Only All mighty SSJKK can do this, well, not the firing
part, that seems to be saved for the ego king jit bag, Mister Trump.
How anyone can seriously watch garbage like this on television, tells
me all that I need to know about fucking humanity, and I will just
end that topic right there, 'Docnor' Scotty Nichols. But we do not
have time to be diverted today or for some time to come, with strange
doctors, lab techs, or other medical marvels. I've allowed the great
Sarah and Bobby enough wiggle room for one wormhole Coolie Hall,
Haddonfield, New Jersey, lifetime, don't you think, folks? Fuck this
shit, Henry Fonda!
Some
few real Morians, or Mountainpen fans, might just argue that shortly
before last Christmas, a huge elimination in hyperspace distance
occurred, speaking of mayors, or cool hallways, or whatever, CRA.
Still, you would be totally correct, but I cannot let that powerful
deal, bate me into Sarah Callio's newest trap. What I will say, is
that I tolsd you all about a place I was doing security guard work
in, called Raynard Run, in the Mount Laurel area in New Jersey
somewhere in 1988, a housing project under construction, and the
United States Copyright Office has the copyrighted Epitome of
Harassment tape from those times, where I discuss the
'ENY' license plate of the white sports car with the
powerful bright white strobing light inside of it, that dam near
stopped my heart that night, and that same car was driven into the
Cifaloglio garage the night after 2005 Christmas while on duty there,
16 fucking cunt years in the future, and this time, they did blow my
entire heart up, and I died from a massive heart attack. Staying dead
however, that is the real miracle, once you totally know the secrets,
that I'm afraid as of right now, go over the heads of the current day
greatest philosophers, theologians, and the entire scientific
community, all though, they get closer all of the time, and I'll give
them that. So am I accusing the great Sarah Callio, of attempted
murder? Well, I have learned a powerful lesson since the days of
numerous errors made, Mister Tandy Dewitt, and that is the power of
Quantum Dynamics is so great and so misunderstood, that if I come
right out and tell things, it is just like trying to focus real hard
on a very faint star in the night sky, and should you do this, it
will wink out on you, unless you look just away from it and not right
directly at it, so I have learned to talk indirectly now, and not
directly on point, at critical times of issue. The same exact
principles go into action, uncle John Lauderdale, spring, or any of
the other seasons, YO. I do know that she drove into two of my jobs,
one time I was awake when it happened, the other time I was asleep
when it happened. I have explained the truth about what needing to go
to sleep abnd dreaming is all about, yet the great scientific
community seems to be light years yet from ''getting it''. I feel
they have a long way to go before they will entertain the truth but
that eventually, out of nothing other than sheer frustration that
nothing else is totally explaining all of what they are seeking, will
be the driving force that causes them to swing totally into my skid,
and when they do, it will be a hot time in the old town tonight, with
lots of dancing in the streets with Misses Marola, and at the hop,
and smack dab in the middle and all the other great things that make
Philadelphia the greatest mother fucking city in the world, no matter
how many people get shot there every god dam fucking day and night,
Mister Mayor, so don't go nuts on me like poor old Joe Paget up at
that other non bright light shining truck stop, of glistening glimmer
and glitter, Mariena Castle!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Eat
your fucking heart old distant cuss DJBT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No
L-4, I have not left my poor old mommy in the dust to rot away
forever. Her story is way too mother fucking important in all of this
MORIANITY, not to be included as one total chapter, and very soon, it
will be written and blogged. Believe that folks,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! For now I will come right out and tell you a
powerful thing that happened to me today while trying to get some
mother fucking ice cream on sale. I have been trying to catch a
fucking sale, seemingly forever, and when I need to buy it cheap the
most, I am being totally screwed, so what else is HUNTINGTON CURSE
NEW, PEOPLE??????????????????? Still, this is only the opening to the
discussion that now will frikkin follow, peeps, YO. HERE WE GO, in
regular 4-D!
If
Lenny McKinnon promises not to pull his gun on me at the red light in
Philly in 1980 all over again, next time around, I will tell a lot of
wild powerful stuff that will blow minds from here to hell and back,
times ten to the power of twenty. You all know about the family
connections up in the suburbs of Boston, and the trip, and the deal,
and the running into the next generation worker-bees of Joplin's
murderous lover and matchbook king of property damage; in the autumn
of 1977, at the swimming club in Deptford, New Jersey, called,
HADDONWOOD, a real meeting house for many powerful minds and other
rocket scientists, but that Donna, is neither hair nor there, along
with the great AME Church, huh Andy and Andy? Aniwho, he tried to
induct me intro the hall of shame of the McG White Slaver Club, and I
told him what he could go and do with that. Shortly thereafter, my
company turned on me, the print shop that I worked so hard at for
rotten wages and wrecked health. Still, and this will sound racial,
but I have no cherce Archie Bunker, I never would have dreamed an
Irish-Hebrew connection, until what happened to me at Mars Graphics,
huh, Joann and Bill Marnie, and Cynthia, and Mister McKnighten, and
all of the great haters of Patty Jane in the middle and late
seventies, YO. I cannot resist the temptation here, Satan old pal,
sorry, WOW. Where are you when I need you, Benjamin fucking Caplan?
You too Ernie Potter?????????????????????? Hell bring in Brutus and
Ceaser and we can really go to town, folks. God freaking dam it for
crissake, what the fuck? How am I doing Miley and other
Micks???????????????? I'm just warming up with these weights, Michael
Landon Father Hater. Where would you have ever got the idea without
me back in the eighties, if not for Warwick Auto Sales and Everett
Simpson, Underwet Ugie? Yes sir, toaster ovens and houses, almost
makes me want to buy flood insurance too and stop all this techno-pop
pretending, yeah, right, hock, spit, swallow that, enemies AKA 'WOMO
MILITUFORCE'. Shame the fuck on you if you're out of jail with all my
electronic property, Joe King, and shame on you Ed Lynch, if you're
reading this, 'get the hell off the' computer, or I'll tell the
governor on you, WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
just what would you do if you ever read Morianity, Joseph Paget, hide
in Mayor Nutter's office for the next 300 years, with the next
generation Barnabas Delaney? MSC, we are talking about the Mayor of
Philly, what you want me to get the mob on you, hay guys, you know
I'm cool, and a fool.
ET.
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