HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 9
MY
KITTY-GAGA HAS GIVEN ME SOME INTERESTING INFORMATION RECENTLY, NOT
ALL TOLD ABOUT. BUT EVEN IF I KEPT THE BLOGS TOTALLY UPDATED ON ALL
GAWNUM EQUATIONS AS WELL AS CARD DRAW Q&A STUFF; OTHER STUFF
TELLS SO VERY MUCH AND PROVES ITSELF, AND ME, TO BE TOTALLY TELLING
THE TALE OF MY LIFE TRUTHFULLY AND ACCURATELY. SOME OF IT IS RIGHT ON
NETWORK TELEVISION. ANYONE WHO KNOWS THESE BLOGS AND READS THEM, AND
THEN ALSO KEEPS UP TO SOME DEGREE, WITH THE CURRENT EW THINGS; THEN
YOU NEED TO EITHER BE BLIND, OR WILLING TO ACCEPT NEAR UNLIMITED
COINCIDENCES, ON A PERSONAL LEVEL. HEY, AS SAID BEFORE, I BLOG, I
TELL THE TRUTH, I VINDICATE MY OWN SELF AND LEAVE TRAILS AND
BREADCRUMBS FOR ANY SLEUTHS AND EVEN TOTAL AMETEUR DETECTIVES TO BE
ABLE TO EASILY FOLLOW AND THEN SEE I AM FOR REAL. I HAVE NOTHING, IN
OTHER WORDS, TO PROVE TO ANYONE.
|
Audience |
I
promise you. that what I will tell you now, to retaliate against
recent strikes on me by the M-2-F; is dead balls serious. I am by no
means frikkin' horsing around here. I swear to GODD-ESS!!!!!!!!
Some
think I'm clueless.
Some
think I'm stupid-funny.
But
I know what and who I truly am. To quote a 2006 WFMU listener, ''A
hardcore blogger''. Dam right, and no bad uncles from Yonkers,
D.W.!!!!!!!!
No
regular uncles on bended knees either, from 1983 song projects for
the U.S. © Office.
Good
morning Vietnam, and good evening, Mister Vitteritti and Mister
Callio! Give a couple dozen of these to the A&R lady up in
Manhattan, YO!
I
went out today to the doctor but no one was there. I picked a day
when they were not in the office, but the lady was familiar with my
case and told me the doctor needs to sign off on my one MG per day
LZP and then it will be phoned into my local Walgreen Pharmacy. Why
this is happening to me is pure covert attempt at murder, and I told
them that I am going to hire an attorney to sue the AMA and all the
people killing me, that I have even been told that cutting a person
totally off this medication who was on it for over three decades, can
kill a patient, my old doctor from right there in the same building,
Jay Schorr. Now Omar the great, is playing games with me. I know that
I have a super legal case, and if I have to file the papers in the
court myself and represent myself, then so be it. I will discuss this
in the local college with any professor there who has any kind of
skill in legal education, and then brush up my skills at the local
law library down near the Indian River. I may be able to survive this
incredible attack, am doing OK, but this is still tantamount to
murder and attempted murder, by anything I have learned on the
subject. This would only be happening to me, nobody else. When
enemies know that you have no support at all, family, friends,
associates, and only enemies who would love to see you six feet under
the mud; they know they have a covert license to try and take my
head, and this is exactly what's being mother fucking done. If I
absolutely need to. I'll write a letter to all these quack doctors
that I no longer am using their services, and then I will head up to
Jacksonville, to the Mayo Clinic to try and get my weird type of
hyperthyroid condition treated with meds and then if necessary, with
surgery. When I left the medical building, I went to the new Chinese
place I mentioned on a previous blog, to take out some dinner, to
treat myself for all the fucking cunt lapping hell I'm being put
through by the M-2-F.
MARCH
20, 2015,
LATE
THURSDAY NIGHT AT 11:55,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 74 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 88%, FEELING LIKE 78 DEGREES.
If
six fucking words could describe my feelings and attitudes right this
minute about my nightmare fucking life here in HELL, it would be as
follows:
HERE
I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I
SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS
SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT.
Those
who don't need to have a lower tolerance to coincidences, usually
simply don't; and thus to quote John Henningsen of Colorado, “It's
just that simple”! They can accept as perfectly normal and
rational, ten things all 'just happening' when there is no way in
hell that this is some fucking ass coincidence. But just as I won't
change, it seems, neither will they.
Not
everything is explainable, rational, or laugh off able. The joke is
that when the same thing happens to these same people who tell me I
am a wuss or crazy and a million other things throughout the decades,
they can't take it nearly as well as I can. My buttwipe mother was
the perfect ultimate example. I told this over and over, and don't
wish to rehash it now, so if you know then you know. If you don't
know, then you don't know. Wow-Gee, imagine that?
YUK
YUK YUK, AHA, MIKE
MCNULTY.
I
meant to type in 1968, not 1986; when discussing on my previous blog,
the old music group called, the FIFTH
DIMENSIONS with Marilyn McCoo and Johnny Davis. These
are two wild meat-heads that I'd love to stick
a 'truthie' into their coffee's, and then ask them some real
fucking ass power house questions, YO BRO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
world is a lot crazier than I will ever be. At least my story tells
how I get screwed with and it makes me quite angry, and I fight back,
and this all makes sense. What makes so much sense in the new music
since the middle late nineties, what makes so much sense with high
school kids shooting each other, and I could go on and on? I know I
am a lot less fucking crazy than most of those who call me that
title. I rest quite comfortably in that reality, kind people, I
assure you!
DOW
JONES INDUSTRIAL AVERAGE CHART:
Ever
since I used PARALLEL EVENT to play roulette back in 1986, I have
been pelted and blasted with enemy fire, using this same tool and
technique on me. It seems it is illegal cosmically, to use this to
break out of curses in gaming situations, ladies an gentlemen of this
planet-Earth. It's come to my attention that I am lying about my past
employment. I am not lying, thank you very much. I worked WEEKENDS
doing security work to make fucking ends meet, and my main weekday
job was at the RPL SOUND STUDIO LABS back in 1980, but on weekend
nights, I was on Jefferson Street at the river, at the licorice
plant. People, I don't lie. Why would I lie about anything, maybe
other people get off on making up wild fish tales, I assure you
however nice people, that I most certainly do not get off on that. I
get off on watching some real dirty pictures and videos, but not on
telling lies and making up my life story, YO! RPL did not hire me as
some big sound engineer. Also, this was not some top ten Manhattan
studio where top music bizz peeps came into record shit day and
night, so I was not earning much above a dollar or two tops, over the
MW and that does not stand for Waste Management. You Washington
fuckiGN pricks make me sick. I love my President and he knows how
poor people have to struggle along and sing our endless blues song,
and tried hard to raise the fuckiGN dam ass MW to a decent sum of
money. But alas, those dirty fuckiGN jerk off billionaires won't
share a bloody fuckiGN nickle with the rest of us meager
lowly pathetic hard working stiffs. I fucked up on the
other blog, with Katharine the great white shark. I meant to type in
LOVELY, and it came out all
hacked and fucking screwed up, but SOSO-WEIN-SSDD?
I
ran into that same giant girl that I often see, when out on my errand
to three places, the medical place, the Dollar Deals Store, and the
Chinese Restaurant. She shops at that DD Store a lot, and I often see
her. She is gorgeous and about 3-5 inches over six feet, in her
sandals, and she is big and muscular, a full figured woman. I
wouldn't scream all that loud, if she threw me under Central Pier and
fucked my brains out all night!!!!!!!!!!!!!
555555555555555555555555555555555
555555555555555555555555555555555
555555555555555555555555555555555
555555555555555555555555555555555
555555555555555555555555555555555
555555555555555555555555555555555
- Name: theansweristheqyuestion
- Location: hammonton, new jersey, United States
Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly
say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived
here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with
awareness. Fun is replaced with 'intense'.
Someday, all I
need will B 1 person with power and clout who has niceness and
goodness in their isness of being somewhere, instead of trump-ism,
Reaganism, and Lamistism, all 3 very wide astral highways that lead
straight to regions in Dogtown, a place U do not want any part of,
across the great Teck Bay, from the great city of the great Queen
Sarah-Stacey. A final footnote that my guru brought 2 my attention 3
weeks ago, and must B now cleared up. He said that many people may
get the idea that I am an internet perv or predator, whatever, just
since I am old, and talk so much about ‘teen-queens’. I reminded
him, as I now remind both my Morians and my Lessians alike, do the
friggin math for the sake of the gods. My teen queens are the women
of today, the grandmothers, they were teens when your stupid calendar
was treading [the sixties], get your minds out of the sewers of
France, I am no perv, and am no more interested in women much under
60, than I am interested in eating loose dog shit. Cut me a break,
please, and then go to the MORIANITY FOUNDATION, and this is 25
August of 2K6, so remember, it is just starting. Happy Hacker
reading, and keep
driving on parkways
and parking
on driveways,
and watch out for ettosianism. The original STAR TREK creator, MR.
G.R., knew this was real; and got it all in through the back door,
calling the aliens pertaining to what I am talking about, the
Tallosions,
happy 40th anniversary Trekkers, Trek on, rock on, and enemies
beware, I will get all of U, and legally and properly, but like the
Swiffer Mop, I will get you, get you, get u, and that is a promise
that you may B forewarned of right now.
By By for now, big KAL, back in 2006, not yet up here in 2014!!!
By By for now, big KAL, back in 2006, not yet up here in 2014!!!
The
Tallosions of the fictional Star Trek television show are nothing
more than the T3E, AKA the ESS and we all know what that is, the
great almighty EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY!
Oh
ffffffufufufufudge the world, Mister child molester Tom Reale of
southeast New Jersey. Even though the Morianity Bible was not yet
where things are presently, take this discrepancy and begin to see
how I will be in places not fathomable to Gary Trek Mitchel
Croucheyes, in another 99 months, great folks. Have a very nice day
and don't do anything Gene at Mars wouldn't do in 1977, yeah man,
have a blast and die of Aids; as we all godda' go someday; right my
friend? Enjoy the old days for a while!!!!!!!!!!
There is no good
way to start this journal of my endless life, you see I do
not ever die. In this age of somewhat computer impersonal inter-world interaction, I will start with plain simple English. First there is a very sick
giant army of pure wicked slime-bags, wrecking every facet of my life. It
worsened however 20 years ago when I resided in lovely Cherry Hill, NJ, and
much will be spoken of, regarding this horrific nightmare. I have offered 3
people the knowledge of creating their idea of immortality, and I can make
good on my end of the deal. Despite mans fear of death and the unknown, they
all turned down my offer, even though what I want in return is not what you
might think the usual things would be, such as sex or money or power etc. I
do not want this. What I want is to be believed and have a small group of
people join me in a fight against something that goes beyond consp theories,
or any sci-fi stuff. No one can ever give me what I want so bad, OBLIVION.
I have a story to tell you that will topple the world as we now perceive it
to be. Stay tuned, there is a light year of story to tell; so be braced.
not ever die. In this age of somewhat computer impersonal inter-world interaction, I will start with plain simple English. First there is a very sick
giant army of pure wicked slime-bags, wrecking every facet of my life. It
worsened however 20 years ago when I resided in lovely Cherry Hill, NJ, and
much will be spoken of, regarding this horrific nightmare. I have offered 3
people the knowledge of creating their idea of immortality, and I can make
good on my end of the deal. Despite mans fear of death and the unknown, they
all turned down my offer, even though what I want in return is not what you
might think the usual things would be, such as sex or money or power etc. I
do not want this. What I want is to be believed and have a small group of
people join me in a fight against something that goes beyond consp theories,
or any sci-fi stuff. No one can ever give me what I want so bad, OBLIVION.
I have a story to tell you that will topple the world as we now perceive it
to be. Stay tuned, there is a light year of story to tell; so be braced.
I
do think it wise that this book be made a part of my life and live
journals,
as this is the beginning of the book known as morianity bible. This will not
follow the scrip of prior writings, as the times change very quickly as
centuries continue moving forward. I feel the need to point out that several
people play a major part of my nightmare endless existence, and that they are
well known high profile individuals. Unless you can see what I tell you is
real, you will be offended as a direct result of inability to comprehend.
People, animals, weather, and all potential situations of interaction in this
gigantic 5th dimensional hyperspace, are all totally controlled by the
uplining thoughtwave that simply put, IS ALL THIS. No way can I just start
right in imparting things about what the 6th dimension really is, as though
we are having a casual conversation over trivial everyday matters such as a
new boy or girl friend, whether or not the mighty Philadelphia Flyers will
win the 2006 Stanley Cup, and on and on. The 6th dimension contains answers
to every question that ever has plagued or interested mankind since it crawled
out of the seas. I began my bible for no other reason in 1995, than simply
put, and using mortal Earth language; I awoke from a dream on the morning of
August fifteen, 1986, and upon awakening I came here, wherever here is. NO
ONE ON GODS GREEN-BROWN EARTH will believe me when I tell them that the place that I fell asleep from the night before was not where I am now, and have
been since this outlandish occurrence. Since this happened, some things are
similar, and some things are quite different. When I came to the library today
to write this blog, my reading glasses vanished and turned up in a very weird
spot, and then a crazy person tried intentionally yo hit my car while I was
merely attempting to normally park. Things like this occur constantly, and
thousands of hellish things worse, every year since this hell began in 1986,
whereas before all of this, my life was boring and dull, not great, but
certainly not TOTAL FREAKING HELL. I have been in a death-hell sentence for
20 years now, and all from doing no more than waking up from a spurious and
crazy dream, where I lived in Atlantic City, NJ, but in an entirely altered
reality, some might refer to as a parallel universe. One possible explanation
for this is that I used to experiment with many electronic devices, and you
would never believe me if I told you the whole story. Long before many of the
technologies of century 21 existed, I applied an ancient alchemists theory
to life by combining science with the magical world, hence creating a commingling
of sorts of existing powers that man had tapped into. There are several people
that were suddenly added and subtracted from known reality, and the machine
it was done on was a Panasonic Technics RS1500US open reel recorder. In closing
the first chapter of this bible, I will simply say this: I am in hell. I have
been shot in a Wawa, drowned, poisoned, electrocuted, killed in 5 traffic
crashes, the worst being in Woodbury, NJ, and have had several massive and
fatal heart attacks. Death hates my guts and has been ordered to not let me
get out of this nightmare. I am constantly evicted from wherever I live,
friends keep dying strange deaths, I am fired off jobs with no explanations,
and every time that I eventually and painstakingly get a new person in my life
who possibly might help me, they turn on me with no rhyme nor reason. 2 churches
asked me to leave the fold as they believe I am cursed of God, or possessed,
or some other such absurd nonsense. No matter what I try to ever do socially,
financially, or whateverally, IT FAILS FAILS F A I L S.
as this is the beginning of the book known as morianity bible. This will not
follow the scrip of prior writings, as the times change very quickly as
centuries continue moving forward. I feel the need to point out that several
people play a major part of my nightmare endless existence, and that they are
well known high profile individuals. Unless you can see what I tell you is
real, you will be offended as a direct result of inability to comprehend.
People, animals, weather, and all potential situations of interaction in this
gigantic 5th dimensional hyperspace, are all totally controlled by the
uplining thoughtwave that simply put, IS ALL THIS. No way can I just start
right in imparting things about what the 6th dimension really is, as though
we are having a casual conversation over trivial everyday matters such as a
new boy or girl friend, whether or not the mighty Philadelphia Flyers will
win the 2006 Stanley Cup, and on and on. The 6th dimension contains answers
to every question that ever has plagued or interested mankind since it crawled
out of the seas. I began my bible for no other reason in 1995, than simply
put, and using mortal Earth language; I awoke from a dream on the morning of
August fifteen, 1986, and upon awakening I came here, wherever here is. NO
ONE ON GODS GREEN-BROWN EARTH will believe me when I tell them that the place that I fell asleep from the night before was not where I am now, and have
been since this outlandish occurrence. Since this happened, some things are
similar, and some things are quite different. When I came to the library today
to write this blog, my reading glasses vanished and turned up in a very weird
spot, and then a crazy person tried intentionally yo hit my car while I was
merely attempting to normally park. Things like this occur constantly, and
thousands of hellish things worse, every year since this hell began in 1986,
whereas before all of this, my life was boring and dull, not great, but
certainly not TOTAL FREAKING HELL. I have been in a death-hell sentence for
20 years now, and all from doing no more than waking up from a spurious and
crazy dream, where I lived in Atlantic City, NJ, but in an entirely altered
reality, some might refer to as a parallel universe. One possible explanation
for this is that I used to experiment with many electronic devices, and you
would never believe me if I told you the whole story. Long before many of the
technologies of century 21 existed, I applied an ancient alchemists theory
to life by combining science with the magical world, hence creating a commingling
of sorts of existing powers that man had tapped into. There are several people
that were suddenly added and subtracted from known reality, and the machine
it was done on was a Panasonic Technics RS1500US open reel recorder. In closing
the first chapter of this bible, I will simply say this: I am in hell. I have
been shot in a Wawa, drowned, poisoned, electrocuted, killed in 5 traffic
crashes, the worst being in Woodbury, NJ, and have had several massive and
fatal heart attacks. Death hates my guts and has been ordered to not let me
get out of this nightmare. I am constantly evicted from wherever I live,
friends keep dying strange deaths, I am fired off jobs with no explanations,
and every time that I eventually and painstakingly get a new person in my life
who possibly might help me, they turn on me with no rhyme nor reason. 2 churches
asked me to leave the fold as they believe I am cursed of God, or possessed,
or some other such absurd nonsense. No matter what I try to ever do socially,
financially, or whateverally, IT FAILS FAILS F A I L S.
Ain't
life grand, David Charles Roth?????
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
Florida
Attorney
General
Pam
Bondi
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GOOOOOOLLLLEEEEEEY
SARGENT CARTER, USMC, and Doctor Doogie Howser, YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!! AHA-AHA-AHA MIKE MMCN.
HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 8, WEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
Don't you dare, anybody, tell me that you too have
not had that experience where you intentionally force something
really rotten or just plain to nauseating to think about on a
conscious level, out of that conscious mind and down below, into what
the psych folks call the sub-conscious mind. Don't you dam dare, not
a one of you wonderful great marvelous people! My first encounter
with this particular situation was in early July or maybe the last
day or two in June, in 1970. Well, actually, this happened in reverse
to me. I forced myself to temporarily remember something that would
get that child molester off of me and did this while not sure I was
just in a powerful dream. The reason I later came to know for certain
it was quite real however, was when we had that conversation, fully
clothed, where his words to me, and I'll never forget them, “If you
tell, nobody will believe you as the Chief of Police of Ventnor is my
best friend, and maybe we can just come to some sort of an
understanding. This was spoken to me by the mighty and great Tom
Reale. How I got a laugh out of that
Star Trek Spock mind meld with that episode with the merging probes,
sort of borrowed from the flash forward future, with Veeger, and
Voyager; and then with the 'TON-RUE' thing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But shake it any way you want, be it my prick illegally, or something
you might receive at a McDonald's, when Bob Vandegrift isn't beating
up poor Ronald, in front of all of those children; will always go as
follows; and always be endlessly friggin' truer than
real and righter than rain, and hey, I am just quoting already
established expressions, oh deer-47! THERE
IS NO WAY THAT TOM REALE, BACK IN JULY OF 1970, WOULD HAVE BEEN THAT
UPSET, THAT NIGHT OF THE FIREWORKS; IF HE WAS NOT ALL PART OF WHAT
HAPPENED THE YEAR BEFORE THAT; AND WAS NOT ALSO A MEMBER OF THE
MIGHTY GREAT
AND POWERFUL
EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY! And
then the dam ACMUA or Sarah's great WATER COMPANY, bought the very
house late in the century, that I was molested in, by Mister
Non-Fake-REALE, in 1970!
W—O—W DID I FALL
UNDER A MAJOR SKY DEATH SIEGE TODAY WITH THE PLANES AND CHEMTRIALS
ALL OVER THE FUCKIGN CUNT PLACE, YO YO YO YO, MIZZ P. BONDI, FLAG.
WITH OR WITHOUT COOL PUNS, I SALUTE YOU, MA'AM. I AM HANGING IN THERE
WITHOUT ANY OF MY ****** PAM. Am I god dam funny today or what,
folks???????????
The next few days,
I'll be getting into some real heavy hitting fucking shit, that's a
promise, evweebwuddy, and you too Elmer Fwudddddd!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You haven't cunt
chewing buried me yet, MILI-2-FORCE MOTHER FUCKERS, YO. WEEEEEE!!!!
ALL
SAVANTS KNOW THIS, ''THE END''!!!!!!!!
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 7
Good old maintenance peeps are in ex-nabe-Stan's
friggin' apartment again. It began around ten this morning. He must
have left that place in totally deplorable condition to warrant this
much repair and general maintenance. He was an extremely odd duck,
somewhat likable, but very hard to get a true real accurate read on,
in the nearly four years that I knew the man.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!
MARCH
19, 2015,
THURSDAY
MORNING AT 10:45,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 76 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
ON THE DAY-----(H-76/L-61)
HUMIDITY
IS 82%, IT FEELS LIKE 80 DEGREES.
WIND
IS N AT A CALM 4, WITH NO GUSTS.
Some
wild hyperspace interactions to say the least, are really coming into
my conscious memories, (I'm really remembering some wild ass dreams)
these days. This has been through the majority of our now closing out
winter, as this is the final full day of it and spring will begin at
some time during the day cycle of tomorrow. I was in a very large
swimming pool, an Olympic sized pool most likely. People were
throwing cellphones at each other in very angry demeanor's, and then
one was not caught and sunk and was broken, and the person then
instantly flipped out on the dude that threw it after retrieving it
and re-surfacing and seeing that it indeed was totally broken. Then I
suddenly as the exploratron I was in this parallel reality; had
jumped into the thrower, and this nutcase was coming after me to
really fuck me up. I became aware of all of my Morianity and things
that I know over here in this reality, and instantly flashed out of
that body and into the body of the female lifeguard, a giant blond
amazon of at least six-six, and about 200 pounds of solid and
steroidal looking muscle, from neck to calves. Then I took over her,
and blew my whistle, and suddenly knew the name of this guy, who was
charging the other guy, and about to inflict some serious bodily
harm. As I approached, I could hear him screaming as well and saying
many different phone numbers that now were forever lost thanks to
that imbecile that he was chasing through the water. Then a loud
crash in the pool came from the ceiling and as I looked up, I came
out of the experience, and realized the reality sound transfer was
the maintenance crew fucking around again in Stan's vacant frikkin'
apartment.
Back
off me, you mother fucking mouse-jump-hacker scum sucking milf muff
diving filth bags!
''FUNNY-FUNNY-FUNNY,
SHEILA FRANKLIN''.
MY LIFE IS TOTAL FUCKING
ENDLESS HELL
MARK WAYNE MOHR
(C) BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
(BOM) 2006-2015
bang
bang bang bang bang, living here is more fun than a barrel of, no I
won't post a photo of them, but I was going to simply frikkin' say
(monkey's)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Before
the hacking and banging, I was going to tell you that in this wild
hyperspace experience, this was Poolroy, only he was about 24 or so
and heard him telling his friends this and some other things, not
bloggable. That towel-seepage thing again.
REAL
DAM FUNNY, THIS WHOLE WORLD!
Mister
Vitteritti, and Mister Callio; here's a dam flower for you guys. Go
arm wrestle each other for it.
The
magic chain and the magic BOB (Book-Of-Beach). How does Russell
Thaxton and Richard Marcucci all fit into this shit? Well, just so
that powerful puncher Scott Frazier doesn't accuse me of writing too
much dam bull-shavic, from here to great wonderful Mother-Russia,
back in 1969; let me just say that very soon, I am going to really
tell you some shit about this chain. It is not a chain of bondage. It
is not a symbolic way of imprisoning me such as when Sarah Callio put
me up in lighthouses in so many parallel universes, and right here in
this one,locked me up at her great ACMUA water company back in 2000,
while I was with the sixties rock star, Billy Harner. The website to
the water company seems to be hard for this computer to get to, gee I
wonder why. It comes up as an empty domain selling a bunch of cars or
the gods only fucking know what, but here is Harner's site for anyone
who may wish to take a quick sneak peak, YO,
http://www.billyharner.com/
and thank you lovely Microsoft lightbulb, yes, I created a link here,
imagine that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But no, we are not chained
together in bondage, but linked together in forever or in eternity.
There is no time that I have not known and been with, the ALMIGHTY
LORDESS KRASSLE, whom you all know as countless other names, with the
silly word 'GOD' being one of them, totally insulting, it is dog in
reverse, but then, she loves dogs and don't ever let the great
Scylla-Jehovah SAR-AH (LORD-ESS) tell you otherwise, great folks!
JEWELLY
WHITE'S SECOND CALENDAR, DAY 0002, 5:21 P.
HOW
DID THE MAYAN'S KNOW ABOUT MORIANITY, AND ITS FINAL DAY, SO LONG AGO?
This will be explored later on.
1983
was when they tried to off me with the mysterious glandular condition
that I'll suffer with for the rest of my life, and I know
well, that I'm not the only one in America, who is suffering with
undiagnosed and totally unknown mysterious illnesses, sometimes
referred to by the medical professionals, as idiopathic conditions.
But if the chemtrails and the illnesses that result was all that was
so totally outlandish and mysterious and unexplainable; that would in
and of itself, be quite bad enough, but wait folks, oh no, there's a
whole lot more stuff that is every bit as horrible and totally
unknown, with no explanation even being close to the horizon of our
collective understanding. Let's talk about it. The WOMO-MILITUFORCE
went to painstaking and agonizing trouble for 8-10 months give or
take, to do everything that it took; in order to prevent me from
being able to post up the old song, that was remade from 1983; with
the new 2012 song lyrics, onto the Youtube, called; “You'll
Be Crossing Over”, onto my paulaking2011 channel. I
tried for nearly a year, and it was not seemingly a possible feat for
me to accomplish, something ten to twelve year old's think of as no
more difficult a thing to do than getting on or off of their dam
school buses each day, right Sat Sam Trinidad
Wide-turn? The video-link even though nobody cares about ever
going and hearing the song is as follows:
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 1983-2012
Well
now it is 2015, and the song is long gone. WEEEEEEEEEEE! I see you;re
still doing tires, Arthur Crane, SSSSSSSOOOOOO!
Now
a little 2012 PIP must be reexamined here, or going on with chains
and dreams and glowing skies and glittering sights and booming sounds
and weird distant Chicago family, would be meaningless and to quote
the science channel, quite 'moaningless' as well. 'WO',
to quote Billy Harner the great!!!!!!!!!!!
So
let us get into the topic of second mystery, and there are dozens,
just pertaining to this one lousy rotten little techno-pop redone
song from nearly 30 years ago now. Before I do get into this a little
bit, all day chemtrails were there this week and weekend for the most
part, stuffing up my fucking nose, causing throat irritation and
inability to clear the throat completely, and general overall
wheeziness and weakness. My
engineer, Ryan, will have this stuff down and off of the public arena
forever by middle January when he gets his new movie project
completed, so if you don't ever want to see how I took an old
telephone conversation, and made a beautiful musical harmony track
from it, electronically, then be that way, don't click and don't
listen, go on missing things that are so wild and unexplainable, that
it makes any ideas about ET, or ghosts popping into houses, and
haunting them; pale in comparison, just as would a candle flame, five
inches off of the surface of the sun. Still, the point of major
mystery is as follows: If this evil force, the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE
all ready knew that I would be wasting my time since they can use so
many numerous methods of stifling me and my ability to get any
viewers whatsoever onto any of my Youtube postings, then why give me
all that hassle that was preventing me from posting the stuff up
there, in the first place? This is more of a paradox and irony than
the famous 'time traveler shooting his own grandfather back in time'
paradox, and you all know I speak the truth, whether you wish to deny
it or not. Do any of you know the secret creed hanging on the most
secret and sacred walls of forbidden entry by anyone without many
many various types of ''McGuire-ID-of 2-7-97? I'll write it in right
now, but BE CAREFUL, TD pal of mine, Mister Regis Philbin. Please.
You have no idea just who some of your new twisted friends really are
or WHO, my pal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No,
just because all of Morianity is over, MAYANS, my recording my life
as a LIVE JOURNAL, WILL ONLY TERMINATE, WHEN ARNIE COMES BAHCK AND
HAS THE BALLS TO TCOB. Until then, I will go on telling everything
that is going on, it is only 'SAFE JOURNAL' that is now over; and
all of this is a safe journal, hopefully anyway. Remember peeps, two
words that should dispel any doubt whatsoever, you may have, that
you truly have an ounce of real freedom in this new weird odor G-20
system of theirs; and those two words are, and always will be;
Eminent
Domain. Translation, we own it all, and you, you just rent and hope
we continue extending our great high benevolence upon you, as if we
should ever choose to stop; we will make it illegal for you to take
another breath, and then you're totally screwed.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
WELCOME
FOLKS, TO
(HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 6)
MARCH
18, 2015,
LATE
WENESDAY NIGHT AT 10:31,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 65 DEGREES FNHT.
TEMPRATURE
RANGE TODAY----(H-81/L-63)
HUMIDITY
IS 93%, FEELING 64 DEGREES.
STEADY
WIND AT 0, INFREQUENT GUSTING TO 11 ENE.
My
mom had done something all throughout the entire nineties that
aggravated the hell out of me. If I said or did something mean that
really was beyond deserved after she would literally pummel me with
horrible shit; she's half fake-cry and with a teary voice, would ask
me how I would like it if my 'daughter' said or did such and such. If
she was responding to something I said, then she would say said, and
if she was responding to something I did, then she would say did, but
always with this hypothetical 'daughter' that wasn't all that
hypothetical. Not to my wonderful mother, anyway.
On
one particular day, she was out on a weekend day with a friend that
she rarely saw anymore, and I later learned that this friend had a
friend with her who never met my mother. This was during the early
times of the 36 month period living and renting the home on Route 561
that was owned by Misses Meeker, the mother of the New Jersey State
Trooper. When she came home, I had awakened from an afternoon nap and
had the television on and was watching the line-up of shows on the
nick@night cable television
channel. I think the great Patty Duke Show was airing when my mom was
saying good-bye to two very nice appearing ladies, both about a score
younger than she was, and they dropped my mom off. She never ever
drove a car. When she got in and began preparing dinner for us, and
the show ended; I lowered the volume on the amplifier system as
everything was always put through a stereo system since 1980 with me,
long before there was any such term as 'home theatre'. I did this
because my mom had been out all day and wanted to talk a while, as
our dinner was warming on this very fancy dining room system, that
Misses Meeker's home had. To this day I remember the dinner. A very
tasty lamb chop, some Seabrook frozen creamed spinach, some squash
and Lima beans combo, and some mashed potato with giblet gravy. I had
a large bottle of Mountain Dew soda and a tall icy glass. The lamb
chop was sort of small and I was hungry, and she had cooked up half a
dozen, and I ended up making a pig out of myself and eating of three
of them. This is as clear in my dam mind from late in 1991 on some
weekend in middle November, as this very day is clear to me. But here
is my point to this. She sat down to go over her nitty events of her
day with these two women, and I would out of politeness, listen
intently and offer any reasonable conversation that would hopefully
provide the least chance for any confrontations, disagreements, and
or any other resulting potential pleasantries. Then it started. Some
shit that this friend of my mom's friend had been saying, caught me
off balance, and if I'd not been sitting on a chair facing the couch
that she was on, I know I may have fallen down. This woman appeared
to know some strange things about me, and she had no normal Earthly
way of knowing anything. One thing my om was good at, even in her
early senility years, was telling a story in detail, just like her
sister Barbara did before her, and was a very annoying habit for a
poor tortured listener who wasn't signing off all the time to hear a
thirty minute dissertation on something that any normal reasonable
person would expect at most, to last a tenth of that time, even at
the rapidly talking speed of say for example an average radio DJ. But
I have to admit that what she said and what I heard was major, and
even connects as well as effects things in my life, to this very dam
day; I promise. One thing she got on were recurring dreams, and then
told a story to my mom, of one she was having ever since she was out
of her teens; and this lady was about 50 give or take, so we're
talking three solid decades of time here, kind folks. In her
recurring dream was a large city that she never went to, such as with
my Chicago deal. She was walking aimlessly around and did not know
anyone there or even who she was or why she was there, and began to
get panicky after time kept running on in this recurring nightmare,
again, just like my Chicago deal. Then comes the flooring statement.
My mom said, then she told me the dream went onto where she had
somehow managed to become high up in a skyscraper building, and in an
area containing some elevators. Many clocks were up on the walls and
they all read the very same time, but she couldn't pull up what time.
Again, same with me, down to the unnerving tee. Then came the part
where she goes through a door into a very luxurious large suite that
may have been a living space or part of one with an office area also
inside, but she ended up suddenly very tired, saw a comfortable
lovely large bed, fell into it just to shut her eyes for a moment,
and this is in a dream; and then she wakes up, but is still inside
her dream. It ends up where she falls asleep many times and keeps
waking up and thinking she was really awake, but only to find that
she still was having this incredible nightmare. There is a bit more
to this and needs not be blogged right now. But this same dream that
I know I never told my mom about, was very close to my recurring
dream of Chicago. My only connections to Chicago are distant cousins
and extremely distant cousins. Most of you may be thinking about my
Great Aunt the gods only know how removed in marriages, by the name
of Alice Gallagher. She hailed from this lovely windy city and
married my mother's cousin Arthur Huntington of Massachusetts. A way
more distant through way more removed marriages cousin, is Rich Boy
Don. Now a lot of stuff is very complicated, so screw all this crap
about my jerk off family. It isn't relevant, and just typing it up a
little bit, is putting me in a very dam ugly and angry ass mood, kind
folks.
Talking
about my family is not something that brings peace and serenity into
my dam soul. Maybe TWB sunset/sunrise will. Let's hope so!
Another
thing that's hard to do when I think of any of my wild distant
cousins, or my daughter's wild distant cousins, for that matter; is
to write a nice short little Tweety-Bird Blog.
TWEET-TWEET-TWEET,
THE BIRD, NOT MY BLOGS!
The
bird might be able to tweet out a chirp or two, but get me on my
incredible 13,000 year old family and this planetary experiment of
SSJKK; and this will become a long and drawn out major million page
project that none of us want to see; least of all, any of the THE
BLOG-WEB-SITES!!!!
HOLY
SHIT, LET ME CHILL OUT AND GO ICE SKATING WITH SOME EASY GOING FOLKS
WHO LIKE TO LAUGH AND HATE TO MOAN AND CRY.
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MISTER MCNULTY.
GOOD
LORD AND 25 CENTS, LENNY MCKINNON!
Now
this strange lady said something else to my mom, well many other
things, but one other that I am going to touch on. She said she saw
my mom in her other recurring dream and her son, which would be ME.
She said it all started in 1978 at some amusement park, maybe the one
in Piscataway, New Jersey; called Great Adventure. She couldn't
figure out why my mom was calling me BF. But she was. She also was
very captured that she usually only had vivid dreams in wild colors
if they involved people who she knew, and only after seeing my mom on
that day, did she recognize her. The first thing she said, according
to my mom, that made both the other lady driving the vehicle, as well
as my mother; jump a mile; and my mom told me, the lady driving, or
her friend; swerved a bit, and nearly hit oncoming traffic going in
the opposite direction, after hearing such shocking words come
pouring out of this other lady's mouth. She also said, “I know it
sounds nuts as hell Grace, but in this wild recurring dream, your son
thinks nothing of just jumping up in the air and flying like dam
Superman. No one else can ever do it, and I have tried it in these
dreams; so why can he? Then she adds in, according to my mom and her
wonderful story telling recall memory, that her and her sister
Blabber mouth Babs the opera singer, seem to be gifted with; this
beyond inconceivable tall brunette, with beauty that is blinding;
always comes up to your son, and then sooner or later they embrace,
and he kisses her, and takes her hand; and always calls her by name,
Sarah Stacey. Shortly after the original time that this story got
told to me; we were living in the next place, the Highview
Apartments; the place where all of this began happening in real time,
starting with my getting some repressed memories back of SARAH. My
mom told me that she was always fascinated by the way this lady said
the name SARAH can have an H
or not have one, and Stacey can have an
E or not have one; but your son
always is so strongly insisting that you must have both the
H in SARAH and the E in Stacey;
and that it has something to do with a magic
code that proves how this girl has returned from a previous
life, and does this over and over again; and her real name is two
other letters that make the contraction of I'M.
Biblically we all know, or should, that God says over and over,
especially to good old Moses, “I AM”.
In one of my 1980 experiences, the
Lois Foca song lyrics, that were not
remembered until I re-entered the experience, via a very deep
controlled and self induced tranced state of meditation, and was
given the entire song lyrics from start to finish. Until that
time, and from the first time in early June of 1980, I only could
bring back the four repeating hook words to the lyrics, as they also
were the song's title and still is to this day, “Love
Is For Carpenters”, or compressed for short, into LOIS
FOCA!
But
you know in all honesty; forget all this. Forget all of it. Just
examine how Robert McGuire, a millionaire businessman in Atlantic
City, almost lost it and dam near killed me and caused thousands of
dollars of damage to my property and belongs in mother fuckiGN
prison; but look how he reacted as if I had turned his entire world
topsy-turvy, just by going down to his area on Tennessee Avenue in
1997, to ask a few questions about things from nearly three full
decades in the past from those times, and nearly a half century back
from right now. If this was not all some beyond huge cover up
conspiracy that goes so far beyond any normal family-secrets deal,
I'll be a monkey's cunt lapping uncle on the milf farm of hot and wet
horny bitches from heredahelda. Another person on public property
accused me of being “an invader”. I thought Atlantic City and its
streets unless posted otherwise by legal official no trespassing
signs, were public tourist property for an y and all lawful activity
to be conducted on. Yeah? Try it if you're me back in time, and see
if it's so or not, lovely world! Photeous and John, the two young
Greek sons of Mary the original restaurant owner on Tennessee Avenue,
that turned it into a parking lot after the Mayflower Hotel was all
bulldozed down, which I find fascinating that
this suddenly all happened in the very beginning of 1983, after
George Belton and I began going to the Resorts Hotel and Casino
nearby, and walked right past the place many times and watched
the crane and the wrecking ball. Oh Bassler
Dreams and pizza shop bear hugs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me come
down and land now, Estelle!
Every
day for the past couple of weeks, I have played my new Roulette
System, speaking of casinos and Atlantic City. What good is it if it
dies during times of worst death siege and hellish negative
magnetics, only guess what? It ain't fucking dying, ladies and
gentlemen. It is averaging me a hundred dollars a game, on the green
quarter level, every day for 13 days now, right up to this present
Wednesday. Now exactly what is pushing Wall Street up in my endless
fucking parallel event in reverse, with them up and me down, or them
down and me up, for going on thirty cunt huffing fucking years now
without any let up; all has to do with my 1983 health and mysterious
sudden chocking condition, or thyroid glandular dysfunction. The
Mayo Clinic will fix me up eventually, and I do not plan on
letting these monster bastard mother fuckers from shit swallowing
hellfire, just do me in without a dam ass fight, and IPYT,
all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's a clinic and no cost for poor basically
indigent sick peeps like me. All I have to do is worry about how I'll
keep my apartment and also stay up in Jacksonville for the time
needed for my treatment, but I am sure there is some kind of a
Charity Care Board that I can speak to, and I will be in contact with
Congressman Murphy soon, regarding the matter. I don't go down quite
as easily as these mother fucking bastard scum bags think I will.
Dave said he was going out with a bang and it was beyond pathetic.
They won't do this to fuckiGN me, Congressman Andrews, calling my
name or not calling it, from here to all of the lovely fuckiGN
flowing long blue rivers, YO!
FUCK
YOU MARCY LEVY AND ROBIN GIBB!
IN
OR OUT OF SUMMER TIME OF 1980!
SCREW
YOU TOO MALCOME ROSENBURG!
>>>>Ann
King; you are a total piece of work.>>>>
Sure,
I could tell a lot of shit, fifty times bigger than I have yet dare
to tell, AND I PLAN TO DFO JUST THAT, IN THIS BLOG-BOOK OF ''HALLS
WALLS''!
MY
OLD FRIEND, FCC, BOB MCDOWELL; WHERE IS JOHNNY FUCKER FASTER, RIGHT
NOW; U SEE WHY I HAD CALENDARS, AND MY TIMELESS-SATELLITE??? BOY WAS
I A SLOPPY ICE CREAM SUNDAE EATER, YO!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!
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