Thursday, April 23, 2015

HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 78


































































































































CALLIO'S FLOWERS, AND:



















HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 78




















You need to view and enjoy two fantastic movies of the past late century, THE TRUMAN STORY and LAWN MOWER MAN-2.










WHAT WAS SPOKEN ABOVE IS JUST THAT SIMPLE, AND WITH OR WITHOUT RED COLOR COLORADO JOHN HENNINGSEN. IT ALSO, TO QUOTE THE GREAT DENNIS SNYDER, “IS JUST REALITY, SON”!




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APRIL 23, 2015,

THURSDAY MORNING 10:29,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 79 DEGREES FNHT.

TEMPERATURE RANGE TODAY----(H-79/L-69).

HUMIDITY IS 79%, FEELING LIKE 84 DEGREES.

WIND IS SW AT 6 WITH A SMALL GUST TO 7.







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YOU KNOW THAT STUPID FUCKING BIPOLAR TV COMMERCIAL THAT SHOWS THAT BUTTWIPE DUDE CRYING AND LAUGHING? IN MY MOTHER FUCKING DAY, HAVING NORMAL EMOTIONS WAS NOT SOME CRIME THE WAY IT IS TODAY. NOW WE ARE ALL DEMANDED AND OMMANDED TO BE JUST LIKE MISTER MOTHER FUCKING ASSHOLE SPOCK ON STAR TREK, AND I AM HERE TO TELL YOU, IT AIN'T NATURAL, AND IT IS CAUSING ALL OF THIS MOTHER FUCKING SHIT TO BE GOING NUTS, ALL OVER THIS FUCKING SCREWED UP GLOBE. IPYT Y'ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



















You know, only the fucking devil himself, along with all of this 'Rahsty-followers'; could manage to pull this off. He was a bigger taper over the phone than my buddy from 1972 @ the Cooley Hall. HAY MACY BUNCH OF PULLED GIBB-LEVY ADSPOTS:

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Three-six-nine, the goose drank wine. The monkey chewed tobacco on the street car line. The line broke. The monkey got chocked, and we all went to Sahasra Dal Kanwal on a little row about, that's a fact. Check it out. Do not pout!




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AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA MERRY AND MIKE MCNULTY. But why did HALLS FAWCES want to go to so much trouble and bother and expend so much energy and time, just to pull off certain weird things over the past 5-6 decades, one is left to very seriously ponder and query over, YO????????













Just as there are dozens of weird things that I've come to recently figure out seem to make a computer do some really far out shit, hacked or not hacked, at least by any direct form of human conscious energy systems (by people of their own free will), there are also hundreds of non-computer related things that act in a similar fucking matter, and it really mother fucking pisses me off, and let me quickly explain just why it does, great folks! Because these are the seemingly on the surface, harmless things; that make the life of one person total hell, the life of another person, total heaven, and the life of yet another person, right smack dab in the middle. There indeed are three things that are happening behind the scenes of what an y normal; people can ever look into. There really are a pair of fucking OZ-CURTAINS, and there really is a hyperspace equation, and yes Virginia and Virginia Avenue in Atlantic City, there really is both a Santa Claus, and a Sarah Callio, over at 401; and does this symbolically stand for retirement plan alphabet number ten, as in we were but ten, Sarah; or does it stand for the realer and truer reality, my people; of the KRASSLE????????? Hay don't look at me. I have many questions, and I put them down on a blog. But I never said since around age 30 or so, that I am close to being the great and powerful ALKNOWER of any OZWALD or BABYLONIANS lands of magic and mystery and wild daughters! Hay I'm honest, and I'll prove it to you people. I just realized that I am wrong about the letter K. It is not letter ten, it is letter number eleven.
















YOU MISSED ME THERE, JANEY SLUTWHORE SLEAZEWEEDSDISEASE, WITH YOUR PAGE ELEVEN OF FUCKING TURD CHEWING ASS ELEVEN, SO HA-HA-HA-HA YA-BITCH!!!!!!!!!













Here is some of the shit that really pisses me off at C-SQ. I am a person who loves goodness and fairness, and only tries to please people, and was brought up to live by the Golden Rule. I try hard to do that, and never claimed Pennock-Perfection, of course. BUTTTT-BIG ASS FUCKING BUTTTT, folks; no matter what seeds I planet, when it comes time for harvest, and not that shithole up there with Jessica Grant on 25th and Orange Avenue here in town, but when it is time to do the sow part of the biblical reap and sow; my life proves one of two things now after 60+ years of hard time on this mother fuckiGN planet. Either this entire Christianity is a hoax, or else I have died and gone to hell, and this shit all around me is just a part of it, that means all of you and all of your lives and all of your shit, and from the distant past all the way to the dim lit corridors of the future. Do I claim to know with any certainty just which of these two are the real deal? The answer is a simple unequivocal unadulterated NO-NO-NO-NO, without any electronic metaphysics tapes, or any of my many made up characters, who in real truth, all used me and my life in hell, to get here to this plane of existence. That is what PHASE-4-ENTITIES do, and what they are all about for crissake, folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







I may indeed not know which of these two it is, but I absolutely DO KNOW that it is either YING or it is YANG. In electrical reality, there is no YANIG or YINAG. There isn't even any YINGYANG! It is either positive polarity or it is negative polarity. Now yes, getting into a frightening concept that even the great astrophysics labs, and the NYU Professor M. Kaku, don't like discussing too much; there is non-atomic reality, and this is because the Lawtronics defend themselves so to speak, on the seventh dimension (D-7), by using this principle, so that if and whenever necessary, this entire multiverse can be gobbled up in a lower energy scramble and then reshuffled to clean out the shit that has infected the entire mess. This principle works in all the smaller truths right down to a person's immune system fighting germs and viruses in our bodies. You cannot have things that tiny doing this, unless it first is happening on a level so gargantuan that no one out here would be able to begin to understand what is being spoken of on this blog. The joke is that this has been done many times. But as with a perfectly done splice job in human terms; we cannot tell that it ever happened, but it has folks, more times than there are numbers possible, in the numbers game. So go do a Postal-Paget on that, if you wish, kind peeps!




Now for several weeks, I have been both beaten up, as well as taken to a very weird place in Pennsylvania about 20 miles northwest, give or take of central Philadelphia, while my physical body sleeps and rests. Last night continued this serial nightmare some more. Only powerful T3E can force a person into an interaction with them on their realm. It is done with extremely sophisticated towel-seepage hyperspace-equation or TSHE for short, and for the one being pulled in and used, it is normally not pretty, and last night for me was no different, or maybe I should say earlier this day, as I fell asleep around daybreak, and this happened I am sure around 7-9 AM somewhere, physical-body-time. I of course was not in my body, and this ''dream'' is what is being discussed.





































I am somewhere in a parallel universe, and court ordered to be in this horrible place. It is like a sike-ward in a fruit cake factory, but different in many ways. If I do or say anything at all, I get horribly punished. A woman runs the place. It is beyond nightmarish cubed. I have one good friend there, and it is someone I never met here or anywhere else in the multiverse, that I am able to consciously remember anyway. There are things so unbloggable that are in this, and unless I feel I will be dead in hours, I doubt I'll tell it.







Yes ladies and gentlemen, I may be a little behind figuring all of this out, and some have recently helped and aided me, one not done nicely at all, but all said and done, it was Dutch Uncle good for me, in the long running play and scheme of all things. There was a toy I enjoyed messing with while visiting with my three friends in the summer time in 1997, after coming home from swimming in the ocean in Atlantic City, New Jersey, at the Berlin Radio Shack, on the Route-30 White Horse Pike, Fred Windstein, Mirrors Craig, and Hard-Knuckles Don. This toy was sold by Tandy back then, and would make sounds as you pushed interactive buttons on it. We all would crack up when it would ask me who I was and I said, “The Mayor”, and the thing would ask again, and I repeated it in a real smart-ass voice, and after a short pause, this cool thing would say to me, “You're clueless”. Well, if it had been happening two years earlier, I would have bought it for the dude in the Haddonwood swimming pool. We then could have had a gift swap or exchange or RAW, back when he gave me those cool books from the Washington Heights, New York Library about all sorts of scientific shit. I have it to this day, and wonder forever why certain few things seemed to be destined to make it down here that night on 11 December of 2009, when I ran away from the KINGS, to escape to Florida, with practically nothing but what I was wearing and a few bags thrown into the back seat and the trunk of a mid-sized car. So if you're out there ever, Joan Lap-Lane, yeah, I'm not Superman, and Joe Berrios is not the Flash, BUTTTTTT, he was able to translate that cool Spanish song that most South Americans do not speak. I was unaware that so many dam languages were down there in lovely South America!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







Well all great Palm Beach Television people; I do not need to be Gawky Gaukauk to know that I was minding my own whittle freaking bizz back in middle 1980, after leaving my home at 112 East Fifth Avenue, in Mantua, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG; for my first of three eventual stays at a place once called by me (THE FARM OUTSIDE OF HADDONFIELD), and later to be known by me and others all over that area, as the (ROBIN HILL APARTMENTS). So much fits here, Clueless Pool-Roy. But then, Gawky Magic allknower; we cannot leave out the two greats, who moved my mother and me, into 1118 Linden Hill Apartments, in Lindenwold, New Jersey, or the two greats shortly thereafter, who wanted to know why I was so far from my home!!!!!!!!!!! JEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE FONTY. Boy I am clueless; but thanks for the cool books, Mister Colaman. SUP LOVELY JOAN??? Is three of all of us, enough, MIDDIE?




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THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!

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