I HATE COMPUTER HACKERS
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AFTER-MORIANITY PROJECT AND
SAFE JOURNAL
I am going to get right to the
heart of the matter, since these mother fucking twat ass dirt bags
won't ever leave me alone and quit hurting me and my pathetic
innocent life. Right around the time of the opening bell this morning
or just past it, they HIT ME WITH THEIR TELEPHONE SIEGE and that
horrible loud whining sound on the phone. This particular harassment
is new to Florida, I don't THINK that I took this shit up in Jersey,
but am not going to swear to it one way or the other.
Shortly after I posted up the
previous blog, the asshole door slammer really poured it on with
illegal activity and I cannot believe, a slow eventual damaging of
Public Housing property, the one thing that CAN get people evicted
out of here to quote Resident Manager Marotto, non payment of their
30 percent income-based-rent, and damaging of Public Housing
property. It seems to always be those very weird and fucking cock
licking moody two pals, Stanley and James. They act one way to my
front, and totally another way to my back. I have been back stabbed,
lied to, and much more, by the both of the,, and trust them both from
here to zero!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
will tell you it is around Jane-Dirt-Ball-Time on this already mother
fucking botbar birthday morning. These scum that own this world,
despise and detest me for what exactly, I will never have the honor,
the pleasure, the privilege, and the end resulting dirty fucking
diapers, to ever really know, I would suppose. At least I'll take
satisfaction and gratification in the fact that my hatred towards all
of them, without fuckiGN exception, is every bit as balanced as a
bookkeeper's ledger sheets will ever be on their best day. It's in
the middle seventies and clear and bright, the norm for a late
December South Central Florida day, I suppose, and the day for me is
also quite the norm, death siege persecuted with no one believing me,
and even if they did, they wouldn't lift a finger to do their mother
fucking jobs, IPYT. But I promise you a lot more than that, people. I
am going to prove to the public, very soon, that there was a giant
hoax in 2009, and I do not speak of balloons and children. I have
sufficient proofs to make a lot of people sit up and take notice, if
I decide to do this, even though it will end my life once and for
all. I plan to prove that good old whack job Mike Jackson did not
really die, and is still alive and living in Europe. If you don't
like the word prove, since I have no power to make him just come
forward like all great OZ-WIZARDS, and it may very well be quite a
subjective term, the way people and their mind's all work. Still, it
won't be appreciated, and it won't be blogged, but mailed to the dam
fucking pop, anonymously!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I've
thrown a lot of words around, and sound, in my life. I just left a
parallel universe where people were throwing each other around, in
fun, but I would not want to be picked up and thrown around, in fun
or not. Why I am always back in Jersey recently is anyone's guess,
also. Still, why would both Darius Evans and the girl who played
'Precious' in the great movie from 2009 staring Paula Patton and
Mariah Carey, be in it, and tossing each other around in wrestling
moves, I admit I wonder in a major way. While all of that was
happening, I had become aware that I had several blogs, not just
Morianity and its after-project, my safe journal. Someone asshole
somewhere had insisted I make long side comments on a blog they had
already established, and over in that parallel universe, it seems in
my own circles, I was some type of critic on both country music as
well as movies, especially those produced by smaller studios, you
know, not like Paramount Studios or some top Hollywood movie studio,
but more like Lionsgate and those smaller new-starts that have come
into their own big time in this century. The one mentioned is the one
that made the movie, Precious in 2009. This indeed was a fantastic
work, and no one needs me or even big-O to say that. Anything that my
daughter chooses to do is always top of the line and boiling over
with unfathomable talent, and I am trying not to be prejudiced with
my opinions. Still, where I was while asleep in body last night, and
through most of this morning; my mother was still in the land of
hyperspace or the 'living'. We were living in Somerdale, not all that
far from the home we did live in right here in th elate nineties,
before she took ill with Paula King's magical nightmare condition,
and suffered from this for 26 months, eventually succumbing to it,
and expiring on the fourth day in March of 2000. A song that my
ex-bizz partner, Mister PP wrote in the late nineties also, was part
of this, as one of the blogs that I had, was streaming country music
live and discussing older type Patsy Cline country music of days gone
by. A very strange young girl was also in it, and I assumed it was a
friend of either Gab or Darius, only I learned it was my fiance'. She
seemed to be a very nice young lady, with the emphasis on young, and
I was concerned that our ages were way off, and remember thinking
this. But my real point is that for two weeks now, I have been in
hyperspace up in New Jersey, all the time. It seems to start when my
head here hits the pillow, and go on until I climb out of bed for the
duration. This to me is more proof, that my life is ending, and
that's just fuckiGN fine with me, as I have known 60 years on this
day, of nothing but mother fuckiGN total rotten misery. You're all
just doing me the biggest cunt sniffing favor in the whole dam ass
world, YO! Take that one straight to the fucking Bank of Dogshit,
Cubed, Cuban, and Dawn King. We were both sacrificed, by your own
kin, sweetie pie. You see Ann, doing things with mean rotten
intentions like your clan loves so much to do, and you too; only ends
in tears and unhappiness. You thought that you were immune in more
ways than one, I would suppose, and you were wrong, I would again
suppose. WOW!
DECEMBER
4, 2014,I AM 60 TODAY, WEEEEEEEEE.
LATE
THURSDAY MORNING AT 11:34,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 81 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 62%, FEELING FUCKING 83.
RANGE
SO FAR TODAY, (H-81/L-73).
WINDS
ARE 10 GUSTING NORTHEASTERLY TO 18.
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
No
Sally Starr from 1998; you critique and judge stuff, this is not my
cup of tea over here in this universe. Nor is going with women in
their twenties. I am an old man who has nothing in common with
children. Also, I like being by myself, and relate splendidly with an
old-Hollywood actress from days gone by, regarding that issue, Mizz
Garbo. I regret-a that the world 'JUDGES' way too many people and
never even makes a small mother fucking attempt, to try understanding
them. You want to know about technology, all ocean swimmers of days
also gone by, along with lovely Gab's 'other days', sir dentist
rapper Darius?????????? Wow, lots of Evans names are PAUPING up here
legal beagle Steevel Weagle. Maggie Sonic, Paul, and so many others;
birthday boy Stoddard, from late in 1969. Oh yes, there's a payment
due date all right. All things come with that little fucking
attachment, ouch klutz mama. It would have been better to die near my
grand parents fuckiGN cunt home up in dam ass Philly, than to be put
through 59 more years of this horse shit, huh Cuban-Cuba and lottery
dads. Hey bitch, you're the one that told me early this millennium in
that Wawa Convenience store in Collingswood, New Jersey, how we made
a really cool fuckiGN couple and how the entire store was staring at
us and all the boys were so jealous, and how the teen girls were all
eying me. I am used to flirtation, as all my life when I was thin and
young, I ignored everybody totally, and this is something that will
get the goat of a goddess, every time. Me, I just didn't give a fuck.
So what are you going to do about that, honey-cakes? Start sweating
Michael, Promise You That
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
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