HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 47
Yes
folks, the mother fucking MILI-2-FORCE believes and thinks they are
GODD-ESS almighty!
HOLY
MOTHER FUCKING TOLEDO TECHNO PIX. FOR THE LOVE OF JUPITER, AND
JUPITER INLET!
My
mom and her office job at the great shipping company is a story in
and of itself times a few quintillion, as it relates to me and my
life, kind people. Many things are pertinent and many things have
already been told and blogged, but indeed will be revisited, as
things keep moving in my life, and the same things from past times,
most definitely continuously grows a different spin on stuff, YO!
These fuckers across my hall slammed off and on up through two in the
morning on this cunt chewing bitch sucking Saturday morning, on
eleven friggin' April.
They
got tongue tied
after reading a blog back in the first couple of years of these
blogs, and said Duma Argon, instead of Dukra Agron, during the event
where the military base was attacked by some local nutcase, near
Lakewood Lightning bus towns. Only David Roth and I appreciate that
little pun, and he is not here any more, right John E. Davis and Lou
Sauce, and all you Philly music industry crumbs?????????????????
My blogs
Wow
talk about a fucking motley crew here, Regis, Mike, Diane, Bob Levy,
Paula, and Bob McDowell.
Even Channel 10 Philly levy-CUZZ must be hyper fucking ejaculating
with this one, maybe while listening to my rotten teck-pop song,
“YBCO”. Jesus Christ Almighty Goddess!!!!!!!!!!
Even
as far back as early 1973, I knew that when the Native Americans and
the Wicca Religion with sympathetic magic, was TOTALLTY REAL, because
of my seeing continuous strange effects in reality, when I would
'create' something, or maybe said better, ''mess with reality'' via
small electronic gismos. Even something as tiny as a piece of cut
plastic, off of a small fifty cent pen, and boom; we call him The
Donald now. I did not say I created the body, his parents obviously
did that. Don't play me for a dam fool, BRAH! Thank you. Boy oh boy ©
Office!
These
cunt sniffing mother fuckers are bouncing my dam ass mouse all over
the place and hacking me, Bob McDowell, old pal and kind sir, FCC,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!! Machine hack, mind hack, where will it mother fucking
end, johnny Faster? And
obviously, any mother fucking retard knows I meant to type in MARCH,
and not fucking DECEMBER. LIFE FOR ME AND MANY OTHERS NOW, HAS BECOME
QUITE A WILD DAM MIND HACK!!!!
Only now, is the great Professor Kaku the only one who has a glimmer
as to just why this is all happening!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEE.
Boy
are these fucking cunt hackers on me, to quote Helen Islandgirl
Zebriski, “GOUUUUUD”.
Not trying to steal your fucking spotlight, sir Elton. Hay you can
have all the guys you want my bratha, all the more women around for
fucking ass me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And
here's to you Misses coo-coo-kachoo Robinson, as Jesus loves both of
us more than we can know, so wo wo wo to you too!!!!! WOW THAT,
peeps. HACK-HACK-HACK-QUACK, BOB FCC MCDOWELL, YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My
life is total hell!
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile
views – 3032
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015
Callio's
flowers
HALLS
WALLS
CHAPTER
47
APRIL
ELEVEN, 2015,
SATURDAY
MORNING AT 3:34,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 75 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 88%, FEELING LIKE 79 DEGREES.
WINDS
ARE SSE AT 3 AND STEADY.
May
I resume this blog, and have some small amount of legally protected
constitutional rights????? Laugh-laugh-laugh, funny-funny-funny, Miss
Sheila big-tits Franklin!!!!! Yeah old buddy; this is a real
wonderful empire I live under the oppression of, 24-7-365.2422, kind
sir and old pal, Bob McDowell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BLOGGER
ASKS ME, ''You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of
super glue and olive pits''?
My
response was: An angry mother.
Also,
a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At
the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure
of, is that you cannot be sure of anything. Sorry to sound so dam
negative, beautiful Twinbay of E.H. Township, NJUSAESMWG, YO!!!
You
see people, the empire is scared fucking shitless because time
manipulation is now totally verifiable by my Morianity story and
backed up in Washington at the GAP © Office! Choke
on that one, wealthy distant fucking cousin, YO!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
They
know that you can't fake the steak, or the technical sampling. He
knows you can't fake the steak, or the technical sampling. He knows
you can't fake the steak, or the technical sampling. He knows you
can't fake the steak, or the technical sampling. He knows you can't
fake the steak, or the technical sampling. He knows you can't fake
the steak, or the technical sampling. He knows you can't fake the
steak, or the technical sampling. He knows you can't fake the steak,
or the technical sampling.
BUTTTTT,
some people think this is all happening on a ''higher or spiritual
level'' such as the JAMES BURR TYPES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, in a
perfect sense, this is accurate and correct. I merely use a different
choice of language when describing this shit. They say 'spiritual'
and I may say, “The Exploratronic Supermind society”, same dam
diff peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Whether
anyone out here knows it or not, I have done a pretty fuckiGN good
job in trying to explain the magical triangle for nearly a decade no
on tis blogging project called, 'MORIANITY'. It won't really get a
lot better. A lot of new shit will be added, and new ideas on all of
the old shit as well my friends; BUTTTTT,
if you're looking for Professor Kaku or Professor Einstein, then tune
out this blog, and go visit either NYU or Princeton U. I mean really,
cut me a break here, Mizz Margie Leo!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you. I
can't ever know anything for sure, how could I? I'm not fucking god
almighty. I can't ever know anything for sure, how could I? I'm not
fucking god almighty. I can't ever know anything for sure, how could
I? I'm not fucking god almighty. I can't ever know anything for sure,
how could I? I'm not fucking god almighty. I can't ever know anything
for sure, how could I? I'm not fucking god almighty. I can't ever
know anything for sure, how could I? I'm not fucking god almighty. I
can't ever know anything for sure, how could I? I'm not fucking god
almighty. I can't ever know anything for sure, how could I? I'm not
fucking god almighty. I can't ever know anything for sure, how could
I? I'm not fucking god almighty. I can't ever know anything for sure,
how could I? I'm not fucking god almighty. I can't ever know anything
for sure, how could I? I'm not fucking god
almighty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hell people, I am not even
GODDESS I AM, or Mariloo Carpenter. Give that 'old gee-tar' a dam
fucking rest, YO; Tom Glenn; me' ol' 1980 palamine!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
am most likely going to be sacrificed, because the medical community
will not allow this information out, and even are part of a distant
future connected plot and scheme, that only a few billionaires are
onto out of the entire private non governmental sector of the
population; are allowed to know about, such as Trump; explaining how
he knew all along about my MEDICAL TAPE sent to the Copyright Office,
back in early 1984 or maybe the end of 1983, as my memory has been
effected to not knowing whether it was sent before or after, my train
trip on the Amtrak Train, down to Orlando, Florida. When memories
fuzz out, it is not the brain going. Seeing it that way is believing
the world is flat because it always appears that way in the illusion.
If
time is manipulated
by the Exploratronic
Supermind
Society
however; that is why a part of you thinks it could be one year, and
another part thinks another year. The reason is because the original
single reality that was altered, is now both that one, as well as the
altered one, with whatever the dam ESS did. Let me now go to Cable
Zoo Boulevard, and up to the mighty cool Comcast telephone numbers
initiation building, of the fucking modern day dam ass dinosaurs. Did
my ears just ring and burst from these crashing 'symbols', kind
folks, YO???????? WEEEEEEEEE!!!
Did
you just say it is cold in Wisconsin, Mizz Cali English teacher,
Donna Fargo; or was that, ''Funny Face, I need and love you''?
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!!
APRIL
10, 2015,
FRIDAY
AFTERNOON AT 1:05,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
THE
CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS 85 DEGREES FNHT.
THE
HUMIDITY IS 61%, FEELING LIKE 90 DEGREES.
THE
WIND IS ESE AT 14, GUSTING TO 22.
TODAY'S
TEMPERATURE RANGE----(H-85/L-73).
LIGHTNING
LOCATION: YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU DIANA ARTEEMIS, MY
BABY-BLOND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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My blogs
MARK
WAYNE MOHR, MOUNTAINPEN,
(THE BOM)
BLOGS----OF----MOUNTAINPEN
HALLS--------WALLS
CHAPTER
46
This
is more for my own files than anything else. Whenever memories fade
or go in-between two possible things, such as what I discussed on
recent blogs about whether I sent my music copyright project, that
included the medical disaster, and my attempts to reduce a weekly
ativan dosage from 28 down to 10 milligrams, and my discussing this
with a very mysterious lab technician that was not normally at a
particular throat specialists office; and the memory began to split
in so far as much as I began pondering, was this right before or
right after my train trip down to Orlando, Florida.
EVERY
MOTHER FUCKING DAY, FCC BOB MCDOWELL, THIS COMPUTER IS BEING
HACK-FROZEN, SIR, AND OLD 1972 PAL. I COULD USE SOME HELP HERE,
JOHNNY FUCKER FASTER JOKESTER. THANK YOU!!!! IT
IS NOW NINE HOURS LATER. IT IS NEARLY TWENTY PAST TEN THIS FRIDAY
NIGHT. HERE IS WHAT IS HAAAPENING, DERRIJO EXXON!!!!
First
off, it was very hot and humid today, and the next number of
following days are forecast to be equally bad for this south central
and deep central Florida area, here on this wovewee whittle pwanet.
Another ''message'' was sent to me today and I am keeping totally
quiet about it. This was done really cleverly, but there is
absolutely no mistaking it. I stopped trying to fight the computer
hack, and went out on some errands. When I came back home, I ate
dinner and fell asleep for a while, and now I am here, blogging
again. No, the message was not some ''dream'' as you would call it,
it was right here in the real waking world, and happened while
outside. Eventually, I may tell you more. For now, it wouldn't be a
good idea.
The
day began real fucked up, here on another loud mother fucking puke
day food day, here in good old noisy public fucking housing. Doors
were slamming, and James and his peeps are back in the apartment
across from me. Sometimes it is used for storage for months on end,
other times it is lived in. Let me operate like this, and Sheriff
Mascara would be over here to arrest me. Double standard life for me
in this oppressive fucking empire, is something that I am totally
fuckiGN used to after 60 years of imprisonment and hell on this
horrible planet!
When
I boarded the fucking elevator to go on my errands which won't be
discussed; it took literally forever just to get down to the ground
floor and out the main door to my car in the parking lot. The
elevator stopped on every floor just about, and also, I had to wait
and wait just to board it because someone was using it to transport a
large object, and although there are two elevators, one seemed
unresponsive throughout the entire ordeal.
As
many of you may have Pennock-guessed by now; I bought electronic
things, and put them together in similar ways that I had in Jersey;
just not as much or as good as I once had. By the end of 2010, up in
the hood at Twenty-Sixth and Avenue E, in the duplex that social
worker April Lee, had me sharing with buttwipe Wendy, I had a little
working area again, and even though I used Bonjovi, and his Avalon
Studio, over in PSLFLUSAESMWG; for a short time to make actual
recordings, at the behest of my transdimensional lab-tech-daughter; I
also could do a lot of things on my own as well. LSS, unless those
around me are as brain-dead as a washing machine, they know that
several days ago, I was reexamining some tapes. Doing this seems to
'cause problems'. Exactly why I am unsure. No one in charge of this
hell nightmare wishes to ever step up to the plate and directly
consult with me on anything. Fine, then to quote the mighty 1969
Ziggy Malyeska, “That's the way it goes”, no ratings, no songs,
just the dam facts ma'am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0211
KING
NEBNOOSHOO
ALL
TITLES AND SUBS APPLY
8:00
PM, FRIDAY EVENING, AUGUST 12, 2011
25
YEAR (NO-NO) COUNTDOWN ---- MINUS 74 HOURS, 30 MINUTES
COPYRIGHTED
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN----2006-2011
ADDITIONAL
SUBTITLE:
“POPUP
MOVERS AND GAME-PLANS”
BEGINNING
OF THIS TRANSMISSION:
First
we need to get into the simple truth that no ordinary reader, knows
one percent of what is being talked about, so then cosmically, these
blogs are not for ordinary readers. This needs to go to who it goes
to, and after that, it is out of my hands, hmm, sounds a little
biblical, oh, did I mention this all began as the project of the
MORIANITY BIBLE FOR THE 3RD MILLENNIUM? Gee. I wonder Y? Like, DUH.
So
in proceeding now with this, I will start with my Atlantic City
Roulette days, when I gambled professionally, at the casinos of this
'great city', the human mortal-world counterpart of the GREAT CITY of
DAVID, or known on the ASTRAL PLANE circles, as SAHASRA
DAL KANWAL.
There
was a time throughout the nineteen-eighties, where I WAS ALWAYS
LOOKING FOR WAYS TO PLAY THE GAME OF ROULETTE, USING OUTSIDE BETS AND
MONEY CHIPS, ON
THE SIX LAYOUT BASIC 50-50 CHANCE BETS OF EITHER THE RED, BLACK, ODD,
EVEN, 1-18, OR 19-36.
All of this has been explained, and does most certainly exist on and
throughout many numerous MOUNTAINPEN blogs over the past more than
six years. The idea and object of playing MY GAME in THEIR CASINOS,
was to make only a very few chips, you know, as the song says, “Take
the money and run”.
Shall
we examine this a little more now, nearly four years up here in the
future??????????????
First,
my new system that I am keeping totally hush hushed over, is FUCKING
KICKING ASS!!!! Second, taking a small something and running, is an
art form that cursed people must do in order to survive at all in
this hell-nightmare, and being the fucking CHOSEN-HUNTINGTON, I rank
right up there on the top of the cursed-list; I assure you, kind
peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
I
have no choice but to move to TJ, MEX. I am planning this out and
will be keeping my mouth shut about it. What I tell you now has
nothing to do with the message given t me extremely cool and cleverly
and you'll shit yourself someday if and when I eventually tell you
about the details of it; but for right now, this next item has
nothing to do with it. This is my just happening to run into a person
today and having a powerful discussion. It seems, and I trust this
person implicitly for two reasons that are obvious to anyone who
claims to be somewhat logical in their thinking. First, they don't
need money so they can't be bought, I am talking close to my cousin
Donnie boys net worth. Secondly, he showed me something that proves
it to my satisfaction. This person showed me proof that people are
put on death lists, and in stages. One of the final stages is to set
them up with medical conditions and then cut off their medications,
''legally''. It would take me too much trouble and I am too sick, to
try to sue the USA in a court of law, and from what I have fuckiGN
heard, nobody ever has won, suing the evil fucking government of this
evil fucking nation and empire!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
I have been put on a medicine that may work for me a little bit and I
will begin taking it shortly, and will have to keep my mouth shut. If
it allows me to function, then I won't have to run off to Mexico, but
if it does not, then I will, or I will die a slow agonizing tortured
death, at the hands of evil mother fuckiGN government scoundrels, and
I have the proof this is all real, and no delusion of psychotic
illness.
If
my life didn't suck at light speed squared, it would be almost
fucking THREE-STOOGE funny!
I
AM SURE THEIR EVIL MARKET IS AT ALL TIME RECORD HIGH POSITIONS. I
HAVE NOT BOTHERED TO CHECK IT OUT, AND I COULDN'T MOTHER FUCKING CARE
LESS. STILL, YES, I FUCKED UP AND WAS MIND-HACKED, AND I OWN IT. I
SAID BLESS ME AND IT WILL GO UP AND CURSE ME AND IT WILL GO DOWN, AND
OBVIOUSLY MEANT TO SAY;
'BLESS
ME
AND IT WILL GO
DOWN,
AND CURSE
ME
AND IT WILL GO
UP'.
SAHWEE.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
There is a lot to tell, and baby love, I'll be fucking telling it.
For right now, let me just open up a door, or maybe join the great
Scylla Goddess in removing some Lakehouse door hinges completely.
Ouch, those dam rocks Ann and Nick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Funny-funny-funny,
huh Sheila Bigtits Franklin Hair? That magic stuff, huh Sampson
Sarah. We know the dam ass diction, right?????????
I
can feel lightning near me, and wonder if she is anywhere around?
Sometimes I can feel her in a very localized parallel universe,
watching over me even if it is sunny and clear in my universe around
me, just as many times, I can feel my wonderful PEE!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
I can be silly all night, and it won't prove a lot, so it is time to
be Mike Jack 1980 'serious' or maybe it was a couple years later, but
still, AHA-AHA-AHA------------Mister McNulty!
A
few nights ago, I wanted to try a few things, and that is when
something happened to my electronics that could only be done by a
type-3-exploratron.
You would perhaps say I am haunted or my electronics are. I know the
real truth about the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY. But they fooled
with me at the wrong time. So don't blame me for what went down.
Thank you!!!!!!!!!!
Paula,
Sarah, Nina, Sandy, and the Shah of Iran, mixed with my good old
fucking Aunt Geraldine Snow, and you have one motley mother fucking
crew. THERE
IS NO WAY THAT TOM REALE, BACK IN JULY OF 1970, WOULD HAVE BEEN THAT
DAM UPSET ON THE 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 (GAP-ESS)
GREAT AND POWERFUL EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY!
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no
one in the world is ready for a bunch of non registered private
journey travelers, skipping across the hyperspace, doing all sorts
of things that the world powers have no power or control over. The
problem I will always have with all of this shit is the
evental-time-warp of 1987.
Pageviews
today
8
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yesterday
99
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last month
2,344
Pageviews
all time history
81,600
Audience
'MORNING
LIGHT'
I
KNOW THAT I TITLED THAT SONG IN 1980 SENT TO THE © OFFICE, “THE
MORNING LIGHT”. FOR REASONS ONLY THEY KNOW, THEY REMOVED THE
WORD 'THE'.
My
distant cousin back in May of 1995, up on L.I.N.Y., had the worst
weekend of his life, or so he told his wife, in his house, before
leaving to see his doctor. Then his son tells me years later, to
go wash my hands, up at the HARVEST place on Orange Avenue and
Twenty-Fifth Street. Only I am not the one with the unclean clans,
gorgeous Judge Judy. W-O-W THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HALLS
WALLS
CHAPTER
45
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SINCERELY
WISHING YOU AND YOURS A GREAT DAY AND ONE TOTALLY FILLED WITH JOY. AS
FOR ME, I WANT TO BE WITH MY SARAH KRASSLE IN HER GREAT CITY OF SDK.
A lot of you think you have her, and control her, and she is playing
with al of you, believe me I know this. When a certain few things
begin to happen after I am gone, you will then know that I was
telling you an honest truth.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!
SUPPLEMENTAL BLOG ENTRY OF
APRIL 8, 2015
This is more for my own files than anything else.
Whenever memories fade or go in-between two possible things, such as
what I discussed on recent blogs about whether I sent my music
copyright project, that included the medical disaster, and my
attempts to reduce a weekly ativan dosage from 28 down to 10
milligrams, and my discussing this with a very mysterious lab
technician that was not normally at a particular throat specialists
office; and the memory began to split in so far as much as I began
pondering, was this right before or right after my train trip down to
Orlando, Florida. The train trip was a major incident that lies
in-between this so-called event-split that would follow some type of
interference in the fifth dimension by the ESS, and even more than
this, is all of the stuff that is around what is being pondered
about, that pertains to parts of that train trip. Now before I go on,
I experienced a major situation early this morning that mirror images
this late 1983 verses early 1984 situation where my memory seems to
drop into two absolute possibilities. What happened is suddenly not
remembering an incident correctly about a night at Cifaloglio up in
Jersey while doing security guard duty on the weekends. It involved
Atlantic City, go figure, and the great all mighty radio station down
there by Ex-Mayor Levy's lifeguard tower. Folks, I was super trumped
without knowing it. I thought in 1988 when Sally Starr called the
Mayor's office on my behalf, that I was pretty cool. I am nothing.
These mother fucking entertainment world scum are all in the ESS,
some do not maintain their conscious memory to it, but I promise you,
this is a fact. They all come from the BRIGGBASE, where my distant
cousin is the head dictator of, so to speak. Someone interfered with
time either within the last few hours, or recently, making me totally
forget that it was WAYW-FM of Atlantic City, that I just happened to
tune into on this particular January night in 2009, close to a year
before I left the state forever, but on a tape I was using in my car,
while maintaining my life journal on cassette tape, I was saying how
I was going to leave in the dead of night, from Cifaloglio, and carry
out the plan that eleven months in the future, was meticulously done
verbatim. Suddenly and magically, I was totally unsure whether it was
this radio station where this Mike and Diane Show came on, right
after Mariah Carey was played, her song called, “Gonna' Get Along
without You”, and that crap with Paula and Regis Philbin, and the
politically correct threat stuff came on; copying exactly what I said
recently on a blog, to M.C. I took real major offense to this, and
know it was no coincidence, and my tuning into the station was not
one either. This same technology that is super high advanced from
anything the greatest computer hackers are aware of as of 2015, is
all part of this shit. Long story made extremely short, it is also
how they get me to see ONES ON COUNTERS AND CLOCKS continually and
relentlessly. It drives me mother fuckiGN crazy as god dam
hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But they indeed do have this horrible
fucking ass advanced super high tech,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Suddenly, it was as if two realities
were in my past. I was fully convinced that this all happened at
work, yes, but before the great family kidnapped me in late August,
sometime in 2008. How do Type-3-Exploratrons do what they do, many
wonder. I have tried my fucking best to explain how it works, and am
not going to fret and sweat if people are simply not willing or able,
to understand or believe these powerful awesome true realities. But I
also know, that when reality gets effected from shit pulled by ESS,
weather gets nuts as shit, too hot, too cold, super storms, totally
rash and unusual national as well as local weather patterns, and then
on top of all of this shit, events begin to clot like blood on a
healing fucking wound. For example, discussing my plans to drive
south into the night without anything but the clothes on my back, and
eleven months later, this exact reality was destined to fucking
occur, no two ways about it, as if it was sealed with cement on
steroids. Other shit is there as well. For the mother fucker who
recently got a wild message through to me through a series of very
clever back doors that I am totally unsafe to further discuss, or
many might be in grave fuckiGN danger, and myself included; that my
latest music project is not by any means a depiction of my daughter's
singing voice, remember that in 1980, I had super shit to work with.
Up in this so called future of great technology, take me at my word
when I tell you this is all garbage up here. Back in time, I could
sample something such as this telephone conversation, and with a few
little bells and whistles, all the talent of my daughter would be
there, and you would not be able to tell the difference between what
I did and what she did, except for an age difference perhaps. Still,
I was not speaking in recent blogs about the music as proof, but the
opening line which is the only thing real on that song. And yes, I
told 'K' about the note you or your friend, whoever you are, left for
me, Mister Van!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You have some very dangerous fucking friends, Regis,
my advice to you is the same advice I have given to many people who I
care for in this world. Watch over your shoulder, YO. These are very
dangerous fuckiGN people, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I feel like my comrades to the northeast have let me
down. I hoped they would offer me some asylum from all these
nightmare wicked demonic fucking people. You are one lucky mother
fucker, Mister Snowed-IN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 44
I am not allowed any
peace, any happiness, any joy at all. That is why the casinos know
only too well, how I sucked in all I could on that night with Islands
Zebriski, in the cafeteria. To this day, I know they have the
surveillance tape and laugh. But what they don't know is that I made
a lifetime in my mother fuckiGN mind, out of that hour. I have done
this same thing on a few occasions in my life, and they cannot take
that away from me no matter how much hell they put me through until
my final escape is shortly made, via the pretty white dotted flower,
Queen Ann's Lace. Lots of dirt bag noise is coming from my nabes
today. Another fucking afternoon shindig I suppose, the assholes.
The joke is on all those who
judge me, thinking I like or even love all my crazy shit. I would
wipe out galaxies in the wink of an eye, for the ability to trade
places with an average normal mother fuckiGN person. God Almighty
knows my heart, and knows I wouldn't dare to fucking swear on her
name and be a fucking lie.
The few things that
could have led to my life becoming more normalized, was always
totally abruptly stopped. Just telling Steve McGinty what I wanted to
share with the son of a bitch, in 1996, of why I was the way I was
back at Mars Print Shop in 1977, would have served a lot of purpose
towards that goal, for reasons I understand way more than anyone out
here reading this could possibly ever hope to.
“That's
just reality, son”. “That's just reality, son”.
Holy astral
tennis games Diana, when will you ever come around? In hyperspace, I
see you so often, flashing so close to me, even feeling your lovely
currents. I love you so much lightning. Why do you forsake me,
precious girl????????????????????????????????????
THE
WEATHER BUG---FEATURED ON THE BOM
*****THIS
IS THE WEATHER CONDITION COLOR KEY, YO.*****
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Advisory
Colors Key
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Winter
Storm Watch
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Flood
Warning
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Non-Precipitation
Advisory
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Flood
Statement
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HURRICANE
WATCH/WARNING
MARINE
WATCH/WARNING-RIP TIDES
I
HAPPEN TO THINK THIS HORRIBLE NIGHTMARE YOU ALL CALL LIFE, STINKS AND
SUCKS. IF YOU ARE HAPPY, WELL, THEN I AM HAPPY FOR YOU. SEE, I AM NOT
SUCH A HORRIBLE ROTTEN GUY, YO!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
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