“THEY
LIVED, THEY SUFFERED, THEY DIED”.
I'M
HACKED, I'M HACKED, I'M HACKED.
THERE
IS A SATAN. THERE IS A SATAN. THERE IS A SATAN.
No
these are not the beginning of some new age Nostradamian Quatrains,
merely powerful truths about reality and how it progresses in a huge
fucking illusion, microsecond after microsecond, way faster than the
human eye can perceive the lightning channels of electrons racing up
and down from the ground to the cloud over and over, and thus, sees
consciously; mere light flickering, instead of a realer truth that is
blocked from the frail human limitation, to be able to receive all of
reality, unfeathered by tons of squashing fucking maya and illusion.
I am only going to touch on some new shit here, but I promise to
follow up in great lengths, slowly as more blogs progress onward.
First
off, when I tried to make the first double black line, on this
document, I was hacked and stopped, and had to make a creative move
to circumvent the hacker and his or her dirt bag tricks.
Second
off, yes there is or at least might as well be a SATAN. Whether
created by man or god, anyone that cannot perceive absolute
unspeakable evil all around us, and believes that just thinking
thoughts like that make one psychotic and crazy, is just about dead
and merely waiting for his or her body to catch up with the rest of
the ongoing process. I don't know any church devil, but I promise all
of you, that I absolutely do know, SOME HORRIBLE DEVIL, and no matter
how hard I have tried to figure it out, from its real identity to its
real purposes; it appears to have an uncanny power to trick and
confuse and obfuscate and muddle all shit all around me all the time,
making this daunting task not only impossible, but frustrating as a
mother fucker times ten city crushing earthquakes. My Spell-Checker
system is hacked huge time, forgetting words I have added to
dictionaries, sometimes correctly respelling an exact misspelling on
my part of a word, and then another time, refusing to pop up the
right word along with others in a dialogue box list. I know what I
know, and I know that I am not a mother fucking crazy person, that
this shit is all fucking for real, and that this DEVIL character has
gone to great and extreme fucking lengths to ruin and destroy any and
all tiny piece of credibility for me, so that no one will take
anything I say seriously. Well, in truth, this is not an exact
picture of what is going on. Those who have the ownership and power
over all of the rest of us here in this world, they all know I am for
real, they all know this is all for real, and they then turn around
and do all that they can can, to keep all the 99 percent little
people, from ever seeing me as someone with some very special
answers. There was one exception in 2007. This is a well guarded
secret. I cannot prove it 100%, yet still take great comfort in it
when feeling very melancholy and down. This brave soul knew the truth
and spoke it cleverly. This is where it is not safe to go onward.
Even I know the SAFE-LINES, you know, as in safe words during
dangerous sex games, and along these lines. Yes, even mountainpen
knows where those lines in the great cosmic desert sands, have been
drawn, and crossing them, well; the words agonizing suicide, come to
mind, not pussy moroder, doctor flatliners Steckle.
When
I practice, as a Type-2-Exploratron, to become an accomplished full
fledged T3E, I first have come to realize that you need to set up
bases at various places, not all that different than very basic
military strategies would dictate. But how do I do that, I am sure
many have wondered by now. Well, time to talk some more, and keep
your interests peaked in Morianity. Naturally, I have doors slamming
away, ever since I began to blog. This is not a coincidence, but is
all happening because of this CHURCH-DEVIL and its ways; and I did
not start noticing this fucking shit recently, or a few years back,
but four solid mother fucking decades ago. If this loud annoying
slamming does not deist, I will go down to Debbie Marotto and if she
won't help me, then I'll drive over to my pal, Sheriff Mascara's
office, over on Midway Road!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BOB
MCDOWELL, FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION, THE HACKING IS VERY VERY
BAD, KIND SIR, PLEASE HELP ME, PLEASE TELL THE FBI THEY NEED TO DO
THEIR FUCKING DAM JOB AND HELP ME AND STOP IGNORING MY CUNT CHEWING
E-MAILS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I
NEED YOU, EDDIE, SNOWED IN??????????????????????????
Just
as with Friday, they persecuted me all day long, and what resulted,
but the DOW JONES and that fucking ICPE-APE technology kicked right
in, and POW, she just kept flying UP AND UP AND UP AND UP AND UP, am
I wrong everybody?
Here
is what the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE does not want me to tell today on this
blog: I said I try and establish base points in hyperspace so
I can live more than one life at a time, as me, but in varying lives
where different things all happened and different choices were made
by myself as well as others all around me. I have learned that even
weather or the planet's biosphere, responds to how we all decide to
interact and what we all do, second by second, perhaps giving some
credence to church congregations getting together to pray for their
community as a hurricane approaches, but it does respond, the entire
universe responds to our actions, and before we can ever have
actions, we first need to generate their initial birth counterpart,
our ideas and our thoughts and our plans. Action begins as
non-action, but in very similar ways as energy has two parts,
'stored' and 'in-use', or potential and kinetic. Now to go back into
a double that I try and intentionally climb into, it is not the
double that I am thinking of. Rather, I am thinking of the world that
surrounds that double of me. All of the things that here in my life
where I am attempting to do this, is one way, only now, I am thinking
about HIS WORLD, his life, his daughter PEE for example, and on and
we can go along that line. The process of being alive in any part of
hyperspace is very biblically accurately described. It fixates on the
word, CREATION, and then the human beings interfered during the
centuries that followed, and made it appear that only this one entity
can CREATE, and we all are along for the ride. The few who rebelled
against that lie, are the Type-3-Exploratrons. They know better, or
said perhaps more clearly; they came to learn these truths. Every
dream we find our self into, we created a world in our minds, and
placed an entire other us there. Atoms do the rest of the really hard
work. They cannot occupy the same space at the same time, and many of
these worlds have timeline's that will upon occasion, begin crashing
into each other, so if any two atoms were in identical places; this
would make matter and antimatter coming together look in comparison
to a summer camp beach bonfire, if not a candle flame. Just because
to your dream-body, these energy creations do not appear solid, to
them your world back here and mine, is not solid and appears sort of
dreamy. When we leave our dreams or the interactions we are all in on
the Astral Plane, we connect into one solid reality so we can then
dream in a body and become a tiny baby. After we get older in each
lifetime, we sleep and dream, and travel, or really, continue
creating dreams; and this places our doubles (doppelgangers) into
them with created pasts and futures as if you had nothing to do with
it. This is how this entire universe-creation all got here, but the
scientists are yet able to accept this powerful reality, because of
their insisting that they must be able to prove things out in a
laboratory in a perfectly ordered way that their community had
preordained long ago. So it is time to know that nothing is real, not
you, not me, not morianity, nothing. Still, while we go through these
dream creations, the illusion is powerful that indeed it is all
totally solid and real. But you are creating your reality right now
and no differently than you make your dreams and then slide into
them. Only the mighty Public Broadcasting System and their friends
called, “Sidewalk scientists” know what Morianity and I are truly
speaking about here. Even the great E=MC SQUARED is a lot more than
just what so many know it to be. This formula does more than any
other thing in this world, ten times over, to absolutely PROVE THAT
THE TEACHINGS OF MORIANITY ARE ALL TRUE AND TOTALLY ACCURATE. It is
an honor to know that my father was counted among the inner circle of
pals, of the great inventor of this formula, or really, he did not
invent it, but became aware of it, as with or without him, energy
would still be equal to mass times the speed of light times the speed
of light, I promise!
I
am going to have the sheriff show me a mug-book later, to see if I
can point out this ESS GUEST. I ran into him late last night while
taking out my trash so I could look at the beautiful moon that shines
right there at the window near the elevators, when full, at certain
times of the night and right now it is unusually beautiful and bright
and a bit large, due to positions with us and it with its elliptical
orbit. This strange dirt bag never talks and is very unfriendly, so I
completely ignore him too. I have tried, but he is a real fuckiGN
dirt bag. He is about 28-32, medium build, slightly short, well
groomed, extreme black complexion, and crew cut or just longer hair.
He follows me and watches me just as the other jerk off always did,
the lady who lived with that James character and now only use the
apartment for storage and he lives somewhere else in the building
with her. If I tried doing things like that, I would be told I
cannot, I should know, I have tried to do this, but all these New
York thugs can do whatever they want to and never stop persecuting
me, Sheriff Kenny Mascara, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
my wonderful lovely Timeless Satellite gang who came back to watch me
and even mess with me, but not to take me off this world to my
transdimensional freaking satellite; I HAVE TOLD YOU THAT THE
STOCK MARKET WILL CLIMB AND NEVER
EVER STOP CLIMBING, JUST AS LONG
AS WALL STREET MAFIA FORCES, CAN ENDLESSLY MAKE MY PATHETIC LIFE A
BURNING NIGHTMARE MOTHER FUCKING HELL. SO FAR IN THIS
MOTHER FUCKING MONSTER HORRIFIC YEAR OF
2014, THIS STATUS QUO, AS WE SAID IN GREECE A COUPLE
THOUSAND FUCKING YEARS AGO; IS CONTINUING QUITE
UNRELENTINGLY, AND IS RIGHT ON THE MONEY.
MISS
JANE FUCKING SLEAZESHIT WITCHBITCH MUSCLEGIRLPUMP, really tried hard
to get me; and is on a fucking cunt roll these days. The sticky page
kept falling off, and I was trying to make my filler lines to get me
past page fucking twelve while this kept happening; you WITCH!
Pictures
are always worth a thousand words, as the old saying goes. Morianity
IS NOT THE INVENTOR of that great little sentence of major wisdom.
Jim
Burr did not trust me; yet it was Jim Burr who wanted that secret
meeting, with my mom, and Elsie, and him;
that day in the summer time of 1989; up at that White Horse Pike
Diner, in Voorhees, New Jersey; and excluded me from their little
secret meeting club, as though they were trying to emulate the mighty
Bohemians. OH
SHIT
JULY
14, 2014,
MONDAY
AFTERNOON AT 1:15,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 92 DEGREES FNHT.
IT
FEELS 105, WITH A 60% RELATIVE HUMIDITY.
STOP
FUCKING HACKING, OR CALIFORNIA IS SUNK TODAY; I'VE HAD IT!
TITLE
OF THIS SERIES OF BLOGS:-----------
“THE
MAGIC TOOL
THAT CAN PREDICT
DOW JONES PRICES
WITH 80%+ ACCURACY, ENDLESSLY, AND IS MY
PERSECUTION, IN THE UNITED STATES;
SINCE THIS BEGAN
IN 1986”
for
the official record, peeps really think that I am a moron retard.
Peeps like the bonjovi's, peeps like the owners of my building,
politicians in mother fucking washington, the entertainment garbage
world, and you know what, you can all fucking burn in god dam shit
ass hell; allu's!!!!!!! I know approximately 80 times more shit than
you think I do, about so many of you out there, and just because you
think you've got me over a cunt lapping barrel, does not mean that
you do in fact eternally have me there. So keep dreaming and keep
breathing easily. When you least expect the pounding thunder of my
revenge, this is when it will exact itself, just as with the biblical
fucking thief in the night shit as was told by my sixty-first
granddaddy's uncle Jesus Carpenter!!!!!!!!!
I
need some protection, FORT PIERCE PEEDEE, STATE POLICE OF FLORIDA,
ACLU, FBI, FCC MY PAL BOB MCDOWELL, THIS IS GOING TO BE A BAD MOTHER
FUCKING ATTACK, YO YO YO YO YO, and the other night, or really late
Sunday morning, I was way too shook up to blog. Most of us share
about 8 major lives back and forth, and do it without ever being
aware of it, cradle to grave. In a universe where I have it even
worse than I do here, as enemies have already managed to frame me for
several things and make me a part of the legal system; I was
connected way bigger with the Cifaloglio place than I was here where
I just worked security detail on weekend shifts. First damage was
done to a new large truck and one of the big wigs framed me to take
the fall. Then owner, Delmo had me in a strange place where he and a
few other guys were all standing around. Finally, it was just fat
Del, myself, and this other imbecile. This third guy took a small
pair of sheers and stabbed fat Del in the back twice. The first stab
was unbelievable, as the guy did not even move as if he was wearing a
vest of some kind. Then came the second stab and blood. Then in a
flash, this asshole put the sheer right into my hand and opened his
mouth real wide as if in total shock, as fat Del turned around
staring right at me and the sheers all bloody in my hand and the
other dude starring at me in shock as though, “Dude what did you
just do”? I was arrested and am currently facing attempted murder
charges there. This will adversely effect my life here, as the more
bad things are happening to me in these basic eight parallels, the
worse it gets for the entire overall atomic average around me, fifth
dimensionally. You know, the wet towel in the center, and all the dry
towels that are surrounding it, and slowly being made wet as well
through the seepage process. Same mother fucking shit, ladies and
gentlemen.
Now
a voice inside my head is telling me that something huge connects
into this, on Safe Journal #0150, let ms see what this shit is all
about, kind folks out here. Yes, close, but still a 2 read. If we can
move that count just a tiny bit higher to a 3-read, what I will tell
in middle and late July will blow your teeth through your tongue, I
totally guarantee it, because you will actually see shit in your own
lives, and even be able to then go on and prove more shit in your own
lives, to yourselves; and THEN, Morianity will have some power;
hopefully. Still then, Mister Sinatra; I might just wake up being Don
Knotts, or some other dumb ass lady fish!
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 150
SUPPLEMENTAL
ENTRY
COPYRIGHTED
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
2006-2011,
MWM/MWM
BEGINNING
OF BLOG:
A
silly stupid tiny child can see what happened to me yesterday,
Tuesday, May the 17th.
All
you need to do is read SJ-CH 147 and 148.
Yes,
every time I change my address location, I get my car messed with, I
told you about Moorstown in 1989, and a year ago right here in
Florida, as well as many other places since this August-'86-RGG
nightmare all began. Still I have learned through these 25 years of
agonizing mother fucking pain and suffering under this intensified
HUNTINGTON CURSE, that it is not a matter of when siege and damage
strikes, is it because of this OR this OR this, but replace the OR
with the word AND. It is because of all of the things all combined
freaking together. Many things are going on peeps, if you Einsteins
out here think for one moment that I am safe to blog details about
many of these things, you are totally off base, and far away from
knowing my reality. I am not some powerful god that is able to cause
destruction and counter-strikes. I merely stumbled onto the true
secret shit that parallel universes are real, that they exist in a
huge 5th dimension, that some chose to refer to after the
late 20th century, as hyperspace. I learned how to
capitalize in the year of 1979, on just what I accidentally learned
about. I learned how to apply the science that I refer to as
electronic-metaphysics. Then I came to realize after 20 or more
years, that I was being used by a phase-4 entity, who designed his
mortal waking existence, and used my physical reality and recording
equipment, to literally zap himself into existence, right out of
Victoria's Twilight Zone. Not all fictional shows are total fiction.
Still,
a child should be able to quickly recognize after reading the last
two blogs that do not count this one or the one before, just why I
was so seriously attacked with major property damage, another thing
that the wonderful group that I've called 'THAT-FAMILY' since the
nightmares began in July of 1970, can relate to, and one member told
outright and publicly to the world on the great O-Show. I know now
that I must become an overseas security operator, make a million
dollars after several years of work, and then vanish off to a remote
South Pacific island. There, if I choose to, I can hire a private
army to fight off these Milituforce attackers, and kill anyone who
comes around to fuck with me. Then, with a small laboratory, I can
use my knowledge to construct a device that after I transfuse my
blood, can turn me back to age twenty-one, and I can re transfuse
every ten years. Then in 200 or 300 years, I will come back here,
when all of you bastard mother fuckers are dead and gone, and can no
longer hurt me. I know there simply is no other choice.
To
play detective and philosopher has indeed got me nowhere, despite
figuring out a monstrous story that has been there all along, and
placed forever into a subconscious bliss until about 1994, the last
magical year in the mathematical system of the 'PITSY'. So far
however, I'll sure as shit have to say one thing, me ol' Morians. I
see absolutely no evidence whatsoever, that this year is at all
gonna' fucking be anything like 1994, 1980, or 1969. Unless something
changes real fucking soon, I am as guilty as Doctor Camping for being
King Idiot the Great, and the Only. I should fucking know better on
many things that I allow to fuck up. If anyone knows how hopeless
this fucking Huntington Curse is, it is me. No one else alive feels
the agony of these fucking nails in my hands and feet. This in no way
implies anything other than until humankind is terminated, this
family curse is considered one complete lineage. I am not the perfect
one, he all ready gave his life for the world, but anyone who does
not see that even this was punitation that needed to complete out
through the end of time, is blind. How else would the sins and evil
of this sick world really be covered properly, give it a rest,
Christians. I am in this line of family, I should know better than
any and all of you all put together. This does not make me wise or
great or powerful. It makes me miserable, fucked up, and cursed, so
don't get it fucked up and wrong, if I may be allowed to quote the
great Dawn-Marie King.
I
have no answers. I only tell the play by play true tale of misery and
woe that I am forced to experience here on Planet Earth. If I had
answers beyond this, I would brag about them, and not hide them under
any strobing lights.
END
BLOG:
The
only thing that is real is nothing, nothing is what is real, how can
anything be real, explain that? All things are dreams, creations,
words are so meaningless, and you are never going to see this is true
until you experience certain shit in your life. That is another
guarantee. But the mother fucking illusion is powerful. If I can make
you totally believe that a huge dragon is chasing you, and spitting
fire out of its mouth, you will be insane for the rest of your life.
There is no dragon, but there is you totally convinced that one is
really chasing you. Yes Cooley Hall is there, and so is the RPL Sound
Studio and the parking lot on 10-SC Avenue in Atlantic City, NJ-USA.
But who built the distance-elimination system that triangulates all
of this, and for that matter, to be a free man, must I think of this
as another code of the gophers and lightning strikes? One thing seems
real enough no matter who wishes to debate it. I was struck down like
a dog while living at 134 Norris Avenue in Atco, New Jersey, at age
28 and one half years, and have been basicly ill all my life. Maybe
it is time to stop cycling around, and just let Timothy Barber give
me a Integ MWO blood transfusion, disappear to South America for a
while, and come back in 10 years and start over again at age 30! As
for the magic bugs that won't die, it feels 150 in my car, yet these
wild little living steel balls, whatever they are, won't die, not
with pesticide, British nanny's moaning, great defense lawyers, or
anything so it seems, Duncan McLeod. Well, with or without Tim
Barber, I did move in July, right around this time, back in 1984, out
of 506 Robin Hill apartments, and over to Cinnaminson, New Jersey, to
1406 Highland avenue, and yes; THE
UNITED STATES COPYRIGHT OFFICE
HAS
THE ADDRESS ON FILE,
AS
I DID SOME MUSIC PROJECTS,
WHILE RESIDING IN THIS PLACE, YO YO YO YO YO YO!
UP---UP---UP---UP---UP.
NO,
NOT THE SKY, OR THE SKYPE; BUT THE ICPE-DJIA!!!!!
Forever
and forever and forever and forever and forever and forever.
Thursday,
October 25, 2007
is
like any other day in the annals of fucking time in this creation,
just another date, and for me, another LIFE-RAPE. ONE OF MANY, and
then, I had many regular rapes as well, as an adolescent. Keep
messing with me and my health and my property, MICK-GWIRE and others,
and a HUGE
GIGANTIC FUCKING-DEATH
is
awaiting you, mother fucking prick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You are
PURE FUCKING EVIL, YOU ROTTEN SCUM BAG. You
SENT
ME A MIND HACK, and a MACHINE HACK,
AND
I WILL PERSONALLY MOTHER FUCKING CUT YOUR
IRISH
THROAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:
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