-------------------------------------------------GODDESS
DIANA, MY LOVELY LIGHTNING.
''HAY
GIRL'', LETICIA TILLEY; IS MARCUS MULDANATO STILL YOUR BITCH LIKE YOU
SAID BACK IN 2009?
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>>>>>>>>MORIANITY
FOR MILLENNIUM-3
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MORIANITY
FOR MILLENNIUM 3
ICPISTMCMM,
CHAPTER 018
Ladies
and gentlemen, This
is definitely NOT going to be a little Tweety-Bird blog. That's
a promise.
Early
on one particular afternoon, at the Richland Avenue Elementary
School of Quakertown, Pennsylvania; a group of exploratrons all
jumped into various students, sitting all around me, and one by
one, and for absolutely no god dam mother fucking reason
whatsoever on this gods green brown Earth; they began telling the
teacher, Miss Mulhall; and I quote, total lies concerning my
behavior on the school bus, “He hits on the bus, he spits on the
bus” and although I managed to put the rest of this below my
conscious mind because it was so horrendous for a six year old
child to have to suffer this horrendous mother fuckiGN torment and
torture when I'd done no such thing, and in fact, I thought I was
losing my mind, and that I had done all these things, and was
going fucking crazy. It took me years to realize eventually, that
this was not me, as usual, being the bad guy, but the evil dirt
bag fawces of Mister Hall, doing despicable and monstrous things
to me.
We
have not had a blog that gets on the subject of Exploratronics for
some time now folks; so I figure it is high over do time right
about now. If you agree, great. If you don't, maybe this is not
the blog for you to waste your time reading,
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!
Well,
the great family of bloody 1970 washcloths have taken their toll
on my life for quite some time, as I do not speak of this one
human life of a mere sixty years, and I do speak of how someone in
their fold and flock loves to remind me of that horrendous
nightmarish grouping of words they enjoy throwing my way, “Try
getting out of this one”.
Folks, I am not going to get out of anything, merely endlessly
moving from one situation to another where I may as well be
literally throwing myself through sheets of glass, only, what is
the use? I can still see that fucking bastard ''copper's
eyeballs'' this very second, and it has been a few ticks and tocks
since somewhere in early January of 1986, driving along that dark
Woodbury, New Jersey road, straight towards the Route-45
intersection, and these are no driving instructions, lovely Doctor
McDonald.
Ed
Lynch from Mullica, New Jersey back in 2006 was waiting for me at
the Hammonton, New Jersey library, and so were all of the
subatomic STA's, huh Professor Kaku of NYU? All you need to do
now sir, is ''see''. You can spell that CEY you know. WOW, if it
gets a lot better than this shit on some other blog, I will really
be pissed off at all my viewers who never comment to tell me the
error of my ways and show me where it does get better than
Morianity, and print me a click-address for me to go to,
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
No,
I am not really going to bore you today with a long new bunch of
horse shit about exploratronics and how it all interconnects with
me and my life. But I will slowly lead you down these paths,and
you won't even be aware that I will be doing this, as you read on,
day by day. This little parlor-trick is called, ''gradualism''. I
do intend to use it, AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA, stare at an hour hound while
such a thing still exists in this digital-only new age garbage ass
world. Stare at it for 15 minutes. It will change by 90 degrees,
or the shape of the capitol ''L''. Yes, every minute, the hour
hand changes one degree, so watch it for a few minutes, don't look
away. Watch it longer, 10, 20, 30 minutes. I dare you. You will
not be able to ever see it move, yet it has moved. Were you
missing some ''strange something'', after-all, YO, you were
looking right at it, and it never moved at all during any of that
time, yet it did move, you cannot deny this. Not only is this one
cool parlor trick, but it also double bubbles here to show anyone
who is seeking truth, that indeed, Morianity works a lot like this
little RGG auto reverse cassette deck trick from the great and
powerful Cifaloglio. Yes, one thing I will always know as you lift
me up off my feet in that parallel universe, Darius old buddy; is
that what I never really liked had nothing to do with bums, good
girls, bad girls, grave stones, or job sites. But it is all about
the STM or SPACE-TIME-MIND that today is called by the cutting
edge physicists, Space-Time-Atoms, quite recently may I add. This
is why things were destined to exist in a five dimensional
hyperspace, and why all things happen to all of us, all of you,
and even to me.
The
giant girl syndrome struck while outside today to pick up my
medication at the local pharmacy, GG SYNDROME, I may refer to this
as from time to time. No biggie, now what was done to me in
Atlantic City with this was beyond unfathomable. I CAN PROVE IT
ALL, but all I'd hope to accomplish is making everyone else as
crazy as they have made me, they being the WASHCLOTH TAWF, for
lack of some better way to describe them. Then
Gemma floated up to the surface, and the pool was full of red
blood. She was dead. An outside intercom system had a radio placed
near the send station and the button switched to on, and the radio
station began to play an old Chiffon's song from the middle
sixties that was one of my faves at the time, called, “Sweet
talkin' Guy”. After this song ended, the female Deejay began to
speak about something mundane, Then Gemma floated up to the
surface, and the pool was full of red blood. She was dead. An
outside intercom system had a radio placed near the send station
and the button switched to on, and the radio station began to play
an old Chiffon's song from the middle sixties that was one of my
faves at the time, called, “Sweet talkin' Guy”. After this
song ended, the female Deejay began to speak about something
mundane. I can promise you all it was not about THAT-FAMILY that
only a secret Irish Cult in Ireland knows about, that to this day,
the UFO Investigators are trying to reach, and they get put off
without being privy to this, to a group specially formed, to deal
with inquisitive invaders, as might be described in 1997 by John
and Photeous of Tennessee Avenue, Atlantic City, NJUSAESMWG! I
knew after my chain was removed from my Oaklyn, New Jersey
apartment somewhere in middle December of 1969 following the dream
telling me it will be gone when I wake up, as many know about;
well, let me just say I sort of knew my life as I had known it
followed that chain, into Michael Jackson's well worded,
'NEVER-NEVER-LAND', YO!!!!
There
was a day in the Pennypacker Park woods of Haddonfield, behind the
special education school that has of course been recently removed
and erased out of existence since my blogs began, by the HISTORY
MARKER REMOVERS SECTION OF THE ESS; and on this day, I was with a
few classmates, and this was when David Leigh Smith was the
teacher, in late spring in 1971. One of the dudes who a few years
later went onto serve a life sentence in prison for murder, Chuck
Sakers; was with us, and he wanted to know a little bit about my
fear of women, and of course, this was right after lots of women
caused me to have lots of fear of them, in Atlantic city, and
other places. It's quite safe for me to say right here and now
that I have had the living shit kicked out of me by many girls and
women, over the years, and no one believes a large dude weighing
300 pounds can really have such a story in reality. First, I was
not always 300 pounds, and second, there is 300 pounds of muscle,
and then there is 300 pounds of flab and fat, which the latter
would more accurately describe me, except for short times in my
adult life when I did work out and tried hard to get a little
stronger. It doesn't matter how big or strong I could ever get, as
they can send dronebots or androids as you all call them in 2014
and have for decades; and they can be beautiful, between 4-8 feet
tall, and they have the physical strength of Sampson the pillar
breaker of biblical times, yet appear as lovely as Lillyann
Leenee, the fashion model, made up of course. I know I have run
into many, and I know no one would believe any of the things in my
life, so I shut up, and I suffer in mother fucking silence.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
I
asked PEE why I am still here as Mark Wayne Mohr, at age 100. She
took out a mirror from her purse and gave it to me, and I stood
there in utter shock. I looked exactly like the photo on my blogs,
only I was 100 now, going on 101. Now this pasted part of
Morianity would work so well, if I was an expert in doing files
and all that type of computer shit. You see, I had something
happen to me on the way to a post office in H
Hammonton, New Jersey, to get a renewal passport. Some know the story, but none believe it. But I do know a man in this town had a T3E inside of him from the swing bat. He saw a photograph of me looking ninety years old and with a straight face, told me that both passports look exactly alike, he did not see how I looked 50 years older in one of them, than in another one of them. Passports are taken every ten years, and you are re-photographed. But if you took the photo of the I had done in the nineties, and then took the photo snapped by the people at the Harvest where I worked who put it up on their website for about a year or so; I looked practically the same, yet in-between these times,somewhere, at that post office, I looked so old that I could have passed for Methuselah. This man blatantly laughed and lied and treated me like a dog, the jerk off that the girl, LINDA who I told you all about, insisted I go to about MC and the entire situation. When I get my shit together and if I do, and they do not end up committing my murder; I will have my Canon laser scanner printer connected up, and have the Staples dude over here and have all three photos posted, so you can see for yourself what's being cunt lapping talked about on this blog. Then after that, I will tell you how I was abducted and taken somewhere for decades. I am 90 years old right now, and I look pretty fuckiGN good for 90. I feel 90, but what do you want, you can't fucking have the cake, and eat the cake, even if it is the magical cupcakes served at the great and powerful Egg Harbor Grocery Store, just yards away from Leticia Tilley's house, called INCOLLINGOS. Google it up if you think it is all made up, shit, who the fuck could make a name up like fucking Incollingo, for crissake, people??????
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
Yes
PEE, I obey, up here in 2014.
JUST
DON'T LEAVE ME AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE ONLY THING IS THAT I
AM NOT BEGINNING ANYTHING. THEY BEGAN IT ALL FOR ME, AND MY LIFE
ENDED, JOHN AND FOTEOUS, LIKE I TOLD YOU GUYS IN 1997.
David
Roth knew all along, that shit was going on with me that was so
powerful it needed to be monitored cleverly. He was never my pal,
but was one hell of a faker. Right to the end this all went down,
but I would bet dimes to fart stink donuts that if someone opened
up those two graves, neither his mom or him are inside there,
Sergeant Trollio and Constable McMeekan. “REAL
GOOD GIRL” Shit don't make me laugh at myself at C-SQ, Professor
Kaku sir. He always hated that song, as though he knew this whole
entire fuckiGN future was all out here, and you know what, it was
folks, and here it is. Does that get me a pretty cheerleader or
two, Ann King, without the scolding, and if not, does it get me a
'W', does it get me a 'O', and does it get me another dam 'W',
Mister Macy and Mister Mackey? Grow up and be a man, Daniel, my
foot, you all came from the fucking future or my name is Joe Shmo
Shitmo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yogi and I ain't buying into all
this coincidence fucking shit, sahwee, people!!!!!!!!
Well
lads and Lassies, if I think for a minute that I can ever tell my
story in one single encyclopedia or something, that will be the
dam day that I have totally and very sadly deluded my poor old
self to shit and back!
SEPTEMBER
25, 2014,
THURSDAY
MORNING AT 12:02
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 76 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 100%, FEELING 81 HOT DEGREES
SHIT,
I WOULD SETTLE FOR ONE ON MY WALL.
HERE
I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. THE SIXTIES WERE GREAT BUT NOW IT'S TOO LATE.
SO DO NOT SIT THERE BROKEN HEARTED, COME AND SHIT, DON'T SAY YOU
FARTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
GREAT
KIND FOLKS:
A
WHITTLE VOICE WHISPERED TO ME, HAY YO, PASTE IN SAFE JOURNAL
NUMBER 182. HERE IT IS.
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 182
START:
tweet-tweet-tweet,
my Gina. I TOLD YOU, FULL EVIL EMPIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!
Meant
to say September 30,2008, not October 5, on prior blog, but both
these blogs are major ass powerful, huh
Jewelly??????????????????????? Say hi to 168-DCR 4-me, YO.
END:
Well,
let's check the empire, and their rotten markets. OH WOW, did
they score today, how did you used to do that, old hockey dude
sportscaster of Philadelphia, anyone who never heard him yell the
word SCORE, missed something in their mother fuckiGN life.
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
BY
JUNE IT WILL BE 18,000. BY END OF SUMMER, 20,000, AND BY END OF
2014, IT WILL BE 25,000 POINTS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.
I
KNEW WHEN THEY WERE POURING IT ON TODAY, THAT I WAS GETTNG
HAMMERED BY A BULL ON MOTHER FUCKING WALL STREET, JUST LIKE OVER
THE FUCKING CUNT WEEKEND, GOOD FOLKS. I HAVE GONE THROUGH THIS
MISERABLE ICPE-APE-PARALLEL-EVENT
NIGHTMARE FUCKING CRAP SINCE AUGUST 15, 1986, SO I THINK I KNOW
WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT AFTER ALL THIS MOTHER FUCKING TIME AND
HELLISH PERSECUTION!!!!
Lickity-split
Lichtenstein, farmer Andy from 1962, hay old buddy; look at fucked
up me. W—O—W!
Those
who wish to doubt my true story of MORIANITY, I say unto thee; may
the GODDESS BLESS THEE, poor fool.
You are free to think I am looney tunes all you want to, and I
could post up 18 wheeler truckloads of proofs and information that
corroborates my claims, and you would grab the tallest soap box in
the county and a powerful fucking bull horn, and yell to me, HAY
MOUNTAINPEN, YOU'RE FULL OF FUCKING BULLSHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
KNOW THIS, AND THIS IS WHY I THINK ABOUT SHOOTING MYSELF ON THE
TOP OF MY HEAD EVERY SINGLE DAY, AS THERE IS NO HOPE FOR ME AT
ALL, YO YO YO YO YO!
Please
make this all stop, ALL HOT HOSE BUCKET PEOPLE EVERYWHERE, and
Mizz Bondi.
THANK
YOU beautiful LIGHTNING,
for coming around and visiting your little boy yesterday afternoon
when you saw all the hell I was going through at the hands of this
evil wicked demonic satanic diabolical WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!!!!!!!!
You are so BEYOND
RED HOT,
DIANA ARTEEMIS, MY ENDLESS 1-2-3 LOVER CODES FROM 1983. I WILL
ALWAYS LOVE YOU SO MUCH!
DEAR
DIARY JOURNAL TAPE, THIS IS GOING TO SAY SOME HARD HITTING FUCKING
SHIT!!!!
Yes
that wonderful movie came out about a year into my blogging
career, you know; the shark tossing, bed breaking, neurotic
super-girl JENNY JOHNSON.
WOW
Mister
Daniel Mackey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let's go back to Mickey-Dee and
take another few bites out of all of this incredible fucking
bullshit, shall we sir?
So
who really is the traveling Jersey dude, huh Naval Officer Daddy
Spaceplatforms, and creators of that marvelous non Marhouse show?
Could be be possibly McDonald Dancer Music Boy Mountainpen from
1988, © EXAMINER, Mizz Yellowsheets Heartfailure???
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THE
GREAT MOON HAS VANISHED FROM THE MAGICAL LUCIE CHARTER SCHOOL,
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, DAN MACKEY. Which ONE OF US GREW UP, SIR, AND
WHICH ONE IS PETER PAN FOREVER, YO YO YO YO YO YO?????? GIMME'
A BREAK AVENUE 'FUCKIGN' Q-DUD!!!!
No,
I have no idea how these songs all got categorized and numbered, up
there in PAGE-13 JOYVILLE, but I'll say this to Poolroy the
latengrate and anyone else out here, yo, and simply put, that is that
if you put the numbers in their non numeric order, some really great
tasting fruit juice information seems to pop up, right
CUZ??????????????????????????
I
DON'T TRY TO BE KINGBRAIN
THE FIRST.
I DO KNOW THAT BILLY CROUCH CLAIMS TO BE FROM ANOTHER HIGHER REALM,
AND HIS EYES ARE NOT IN DREAMS, IN MOVIES, OR IN MY MIND. ANYONE WHO
DOUBTS ME, I HAVE A PHOTO, AND YES, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT STEALING
IT, IT IS NOT IN THIS APARTMENT, I SWEAR ON THE ALMIGHTY AND OUR
SPECIAL ENDLESS LOVE, THIS IS TRUE. I WOULD NEVER KEEP ANYTHING THAT
POWERFUL NOT BURIED DEEP IN A HOLE UNDER THE EARTH, JUST LIKE THE
FUTURE FOUND ALL MY SHIT UP IN JERSEY.
THIS
PARTICULAR TRANSMISSION TERMINATES.
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