The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment": HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 93

HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 93

APRIL 27, 2015,

FRIDAY AFTERNOON AT 3:18,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 92 DEGREES FNHT.

HUMIDITY IS 38%, FEELING LIKE 94 DEGREES.

RANGE TODAY-------(H-92/L-77) 2 DEGREES HOTTER AT THE COUNTY AIRPORT ACCORDING TO TWC.

WIND IS NW AT 10 WITH GUSTS TO 26.

HAY I'LL TAKE A SMALL BULLET BITE.

The Callio problem might have begun in early 1997, and the Sarah Krassle problem as I know it presently, in 1995 after my hypnotherapy at Mark Wolf's Clinic, in Moorestown, that retrieved the beginning of memories long forgotten to me; but this is just the peach fuzz ice shavings off the berg that sunk the mother fucking Titanic,back 105 dam ass years ago!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Later on, I will go on and on and on and you will probably say, fuck this shit, and leave to read the next blog.

A lot of people will read my words and refuse to ever take them seriously, but I know, as did Eddie Lynch back nearly a decade back now; that if just one or two peeps do indeed take my shit seriously, and have any clout at all; this will be the day the world moved in hyperspace, way bigger than any of the Blucran And Company Clan ever could!!!!!!!!!! Don't die on me Steve Neoho and Patty and Santa and Pointer Fairytale Tellers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The only thing I can say that may be believed by the majority of this viewership that I occasionally refer to as MY BLOGAUD; is that I appear to be going through something just about as unnatural and nuts as it gets. 99.99% will then go onto think, and so, I must be a total whack job. That is the way normal people connect the dots with stuff. That is a pitiful dam shame for me, Adam Schiff and Deedee Anderton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAHA-AHA.

The Weather Channel shows Fort Pierce at 93 degrees, but the TWB APP says 90 at the Saint Lucie County Airport in Fort Pierce, Florida. It feels 94 there and is still two degrees higher than the forecast high for today of 88.

Yes sir Mister Deedee Anderton of the greatest law show ever in the history of television, “L&O”, to quote you sir,

WHEN IT STARTS, ''IT STARTS''!

No one on Earth can most likely relate better to that, than good old little freaking me! AHA!

HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 92

And Vicki, Sarah, and Frank's flowers, BRAH.

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HA-HA-HA-HA-FUNNY-FUNNY-FUNNY.

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Happy yet, Callio Audition & Repertoire lady of NYC, whoever you really are, on or off of the GAP ASTRAL-PLANE????????

Let me talk about this a few minutes on this blog, folks. The great computer age of the nineties and beyond? No people. The mighty wonderful TWB? No people, BUTTTTTTTT:

THE GREAT AWESOME TWB, YOU GOTTA' LUVEM!

No peeps; this is a quick honest discussion on how I died several times at my Cifaloglio job, killed perhaps by covert agencies screwing up my heart rhythm. I'll never most likely know this. Neither will you. But I can discuss what I do know, lads and lassies, YO! So let me, and don't laugh!

On one of about five incidents, and I worked there from middle March of 2005 until middle December 2009, my longest job stint, part time or not; but on the night following Christmas, the twenty-sixth of December, just like the event my mom had on her same date in the year 1997 and time, around just after five in the dam pre dawn and light hours; I got a massive fatal hear attack, and died. No one has to tell you, kind people out ere, when your heart totally fucking blows up inside of your chest. Believe me, you know this. But what no one tells anyone, and so I will be the first; is that a body is a dream. You when not inside of it, can adjust your dream, right down to a totally repaired body, IF YOU KNOW HOW. Another time it happens, is IF THE ALMIGHTTY GAMER-PROGRAMMER, Sarah Krassle, wants this to happen. She just flicks a dial and a switch, or some reasonable facsimile thereof. In this case, she wanted this to happen. But before she did make the necessary adjustments, she gave me the most incredible interaction you could possibly imagine. I was shown the fucking future, as I had no idea that Frank Callio was dead just a year or so in the future from when this happened, and I also had no way of knowing that he and Mayor and Chief of the ACBP Robert Levy, had such major ties to a particular McDonald's, at the foot of the bay in Atlantic City, in a section called, at least in 1970, Chelsea Heights. I could go on and on, as you all know well without ever needing to be told that, about the Motormouth-Mountainpen!!! But it would be pointless, for what I am trying to say on this short blog, folks. Things will all tie in as we go along. Give me a break, all of you who think that I was some MC obsessed fan. I did nothing. I was chosen by all of these people. And the real joke, or said maybe better, the real shame of it all, is because of the way the world works; all odds are I will die and never be believed. And believing my story is not anywhere fuckiGN near as critical to me, as it is to you and yours, folks. But laugh on. You and old buddy McNulty, laugh on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AS ALL GOOD SAVANTS KNOW WELL, “THE END”.

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I JUST LOVE COMPUTERS AND INTERNET, HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA AHA AHA MIJE MCNULTY.

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW

I HAVE LOTS OF QUESTIONS FOR YOUR PAL, GAWKY GAUKAUK!

I CLICK ON TWB TRAFFIC CAMS AND THEN TRY TO GET TRAFFIC CAMS FOR ATLANTIC CITY IN NEW JERSEY AND THEN BABYLON IN NEW YORK, TO ADD TO MY BLOG. NO DICE, FOLKS. NOTHING MOTHER FUCKING EVER WORKS, SO YOU GO WITH WHAT THEY GIVE YOU!

MOTHER OF GODDESS, LIFE SUCKS A HARD PRICK, LADIES AND GENTS!!!!!!!!!

It is 7:32 in the dam ass morning, 27 electrical number, in month number four, (April), in twenty-fifteen, BRAH. Oh SHEEEEEEEEIT!

How my father, as well as Dawn King, could slide that old 'shit' word. But then, my ex-nabe Stanley was real good with that as well. Boy do I have a lot of noisy fucking jerk off nabe-guests back here again. It all started while I did that one particular blog where I was talking about the magic of doing something and it causes other things, almost instantaneously, over and over and over, to the point where coincidence about it being absolutely mother fucking disproved, unless peeps really want to just be total jit bags about refusing to see reality.

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AND SHARED ON THE BOM. NOTIFY ME PLEASE, IF YOU DO NOT WANT ME TO SHARE THESE. THANK YOU TWB.

DOORS-DOORS-DOORS-DOORS-DOORS!!! JEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, ALL THAT IS NEEDED NOW IS A GREAT OLD SIXTIES FUCKING MUSIC ROCK BAND, YO!

HALLS WALLS

CHAPTER 91

''WROOONG'', HAIR SHAMPOO ADSPOT BEAUTY FROM 1980; I AM HERE, 8 YEARS LATER AS THE PROPHET ON NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No, it ain't Professor Kaku, but hold the dam MAYO anyway folks, OK OK OK OK Mister John King? Go buy a radio station!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is against the law to have emotions, but not against the law to persecute and destroy innocent lives such as mine. WOW, WHAT AN EVIL EMPIRE THIS FLAG NOW FLIES OVER, MISTER BEARHUGS BO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOLY MOLEY JEEEEEZ!

Actually, the only thing you need to buy or own, besides some dam rights in America any more, and decent warm Doctor Star Trek McCoy feelings and emotions, ain't some dam ass radio station,but a good friend on your side of the fucking army, who is in good standing as a member of the 'GAP' EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!

And a big ass fucking WOW to the Macy Bunch on this great miserable morning from hell. I'll bet you really fucking hate me, huh Twinbay?

Well let me paste in the BLOG STATS, or whatever it is called. I love all these fuckiGN geniuses who know how to have their blogs all show up with these things nice and cunt chewing automatically, YO. WEEEEEEEE!

Pageviews today

Pageviews yesterday

117

Pageviews last month

3,365

Pageviews all time history

83,902

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THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.

HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 90

No Stacey for me, huh old business partner, and lousy stinking Mount Construction Company of Berlin, New Jersey, USA. I'll mother fucking bet you got a ten year laugh out of fucking me, SATAN, each time I drove past there and fucking jerk off MICK-PAINTS on the Route 30 White Horse Pike. WOW-U, you prick sucking fucking bastard, rot in hell you dick eating milf muff diver!!!!!!!!!!!!

You just laugh at me all you want to, Callio family from hell cubed and Cuban and all the great ex-friends of Dawn-Marie King. You'll all eventually be doing an Elizabeth Collins Stoddard, with those ringing coffin bells, as you wake up from the dead, inside a box, buried alive!!! Like mother fucking ass wow, RHM! Psychologist???? Are we all fucking fired yet, CUZZ??????????????????

I will send my resident manager, D.M. An E-mail after this blog posts. It is nearly one in the morning, and these dam doors just don't stop, BRO! And that's just reality, son!

Yes sir/ma'am, this was one hot ass mother fucking weekend, yet the temperature was the absolute cock sucking fucking least of my woes. The death persecution-siege on me was fifty times as bad as the average shitty fucking weekend. Watch their evil mother fucking stock market fly up TO ALL TIME MOTHER FUCKING RECORD HIGHS TOMORROW, UP 500 MINIMUM TO CLOSE AROUND THE ALL TIME HIGH OF BETWEEN 18,300-18,600. I TOTALLY MOTHER FUCKING GUARANTEE IT, YO YO YO YO!!!!

Why have you mother fucking forsaken me, OH LORD-ESS??????????????

'Now what do you want', Microsoft Lightbulb and Bob Johnny-Faster McDowell. I hope I am not a little dick in the mouth too. JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE 4-CRISSAKE!

Well, am I D-D-D-D-D-D-DOIN' IT RIGHT, or naut, Miss AT&T Blake and mister J.C. Penney, YO??????????? Where is fucking CHILL-MOE T-T-T-T-Tom R-R-R-R-R-Reale, these pussy huffing days????????????????

YOU JUST LAUGH AT FUCKING ME ALL YOU WANT TO MIKE AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA MCNULTY, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

You just go right on laughing at me. I know a magic person from Long Beach Island, who knows the biggest secret of all, Patty Hollister; and told me. You know, that SHE'LL get me for this. Well, she got me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SHEEEEEEEEEIT, it is a little cooler and is time for me to cunt lapping crash for the night, into major purgatory mother fuckiGN nightmares. Without my anti-anxiety meds; my sleep is shallow, and I may as well just walk straight out into the mother fuckiGN purg, and not even try to rest!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Go scowl at someone else, cousin! Try a nicer face, like maybe this one, YO. Well, you get the idea. Anything but that ''You're fired'' stupid ass scowl, YO! My best to your pal, Jimmy Stone.

GO EAT A DAM FLOWER; KINGS AND QUEENS.

APRIL 27, 2015,

MONDAY MORNING AT 1:17,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 78 DEGREES FNHT.

WIND IS WSW AT 7, WITH SMALL GUSTING TO 8.

HUMIDITY IS 82%, AND FEELING LIKE 82.

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.

HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 89

Jerry Heitzmann, Frank Callio, and David Roth, all fit together in several wild and weird ways. Still, if I am honest with myself, I can do this same thing with groups of many others never talked about in nearly ten years of blogs, hence, it would be meaningless to go there with any of you. But there is Paula Uwich, the lovely 'B' sisters, and Kathy, owner of “The Gathering Place”, a once operational psychic shop, in Runnemede, New Jersey, USA. Paula was in league with two powers. First, a psychic organization that is a lot like Google for the internet, possibly now it is their own intranet just as police have, and other governmental and scientific labs and stations do. Second, she was in league, in my humble opinion (IMHO) anyway, with a section or faction or 'part' of what I term and label, the ESS. This part was never talked about, when a couple years back, I broke down into sections, parts of them, you may remember for those who were with me then and still are now; such as the educational and the historical and so forth, various parts of the ESS. One particular day, at her house, the mighty and super weird by anyone's standards; Paula Uwich, told me that I needed to buy a bunch of electronic equipment, and she used the word 'channels'. I never told her all the things I knew and could do, and did already even then in the autumn of 1996. But I listened to her tell me all sorts of wild shit about channels and how expensive stereo and television sets have channels. I thought she was just running her con, despite my falling for it out of my twisted sick desperation to locate the great almighty Sarah Krassle. If not for my being in this quintessential personal distress, I would have seen this witch bitch for just who she was; a thief. Still, channels stuck with me, and for one great reason. The Melanie 2:08 BNK song thing, and about ten other things not ever discussed, so why bother at this late date on this nearly ten year blogging project? But recently, I did get into things with you all, before all of the major twisting storms started in the early month, and before the volcanoes and earthquakes all struck as well. I told how I was sitting in a car at Cifaloglio, and suddenly turned on my car radio and tuned it to WAYV. As I speak now, again, and after a quiet hour, SLAM SLAM SLAM. This too is a ''channel''. Instead of connecting reality to an electronic system or device or machine mind, it was biological mind connected, or it, to my BRAIN if you will. I tried to pass this all off as a series of nonsensical coincidences, but I know it is not. Not when you take into account a dozen or more of these things, and then on fucking top of that, tens of thousands of Jane-Fonda attacks, connecting my BRAIN-EYE system to a machine-mind clock or counter or some similar thing, even page you know what of you know what on my PC screen. And yes, there is still way more but typing on about it would be redundant and a pure waste of time and effort. You either get some of the raw idea here, or hey, you don't. It's just that simple, John Henningsen, and anyone else out here. About twenty minutes ago or so, I was listening with my headphones, to my song, “You'll Be Crossing Over”. The last time I turned my system amp to any setting other than tape which is the setting for my entire mixer, was maybe two years ago. For absolutely no reason, I heard a voice inside my head telling me to switch it to the FM-RADIO-STEREO source setting, and I did. The radio was set to a station down here in my town called, the breeze. The second I turned the knob, Mariah Carey came on with “You Will Always Be My Baby''. All fans get the double coincidence or maybe triple one, after today's weather here, unlike the wild opposite contrast of after my running away to this place in December of 2009, and the icy cold winter of 2010, at least by the standards of 99% of Floridians. So what gives? CBS says, there are no psychics. Patrick Jane and The Mentalist TV show says, there are no psychics. I wasn't trying to be a psychic, and I don't want a penny from any one of you, not now and not ever. Yet this happened. When I was six, I knew a dog was about to chase me up a hill where I was playing alone, in Quakertown, PAUSAESMWG, where I lived in a mobile home with my parents, on a farm that was owned by the Shat family who my dad made friends with, to sponge off of for a while, most likely, knowing my dad; Frank Lombardo, sorry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All I am saying is, yes, there is something to electronics that no one alive is yet aware of. Not the great billionaires, not the great broadcasting networks, not the great guru and seer folks, not the people who make a living, in any possible capacity with these things; from those who build them on an assembly line, to recording artists, and movie stars. But Paula Uwich seemed to know a lot. Bruce Pennock seemed to also. A lot of you heard his cussing rants on the Aquarius Records WFMU MEET MORE CRACKPOTS IN JERSEY web-site. All I can hope to tell you is that I don't profit in any way typing these things, looking like a crazy fucking ass lunatic, and alienating myself from all the normal people and normal potential life that I could maybe otherwise be living. So then, Mister fucking Hotel King Shatner, ''someone or some thing'' to quote your great words from the original STAR TREK television show; MUST BE BEHIND THE WHAT CURTAINS? Now you all know perfectly well, that long before MC did any of these things, my blogs were there first, and she and her friends and family were reading them. I was told this much already, but if I ever tell who told me, I am a fucking dead man, and others will be in grave ass danger as well, so I must shut the shit up, to quote the great and awesome man from 1969, Mister Sidney Cohen Crown, the dude my mom was dating in that year, god save the queen!!!!!!!!

ALL SAVANTS KNOW THIS ONE WELL; THE END!

THIS IS NOT A SCUM-RAM DODGE TRUCK

HYPNOTHERAPIST MARK WOLF

RED ALERT---RED ALERT---RED ALERT

APRIL 26, 2015,

SUNDAY NIGHT AT 7:53,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 89 DEGREES FNHT.

RANGE TODAY-----(H-95/L-75).

HUMIDITY IS 55%, FEELING LIKE 96.

WIND IS WNW AT 17, GUSTING TO 33.

HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 88

OH BOY ARE THESE CUNT CHEWING MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' BASTARDS HACKING ME, AND MY COMPUTER, AND MY LIFE, AND MY WEEKEND. THEY JUST HACKED A FUCKING WORD OFF WITH MAJOR FUCKIGN CUNT LAPPING MOUSE HACKING, OLD FCC PAL, MCDOWELL!!!!!!!! EVERY MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' JERK OFF FROM GOD ON DOWN HAS LET ME DOWN AND BEEN A TOTAL MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' PRICK. DIANA LET ME DOWN THIS PUSSY HUFFING WEEKEND, NO LIGHTNING AT ALL, AND THE AUTHORITIES DON'T GIVE A FIDDLERS CUNT SUCKING FUCKIGN SHIT ABOUT ME OR DOING THEIR CUNT SUCKING ASSHOLE JOBS EITHER, FOR THAT 'FUCKIGN' MATTER, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SLAM-SLAM-SLAM, NOW THESE MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' NABES FROM DICK LICKING SUCKING ASS HELL ARE TORMENTING ME TO 'FUCKIGN' CUNT DEATH WITH THEIR ROTTEN LOW CLASS DOOR ACTIVITY! MORE MOUSE HACKING AND WORD-DISAPPEARING HACKS (WD-HACKS).

THIS IS THE WORST FUCKING CUNT LAPPING SATANIC ATTACK IN DECADES, FOLKS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Any time the weather is fuckign crazy, like too cold or too hot or too dry or too stormy, SOME MOTHER FUCKING PART OF THE EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY is killing my 'fuckign' asshole!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IPYT people!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

APRIL 26, 2015,

SUNDAY EVENING AT 5:55.55555555555555555

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 94 DEGREES FNHT.

RANGE TODAY-----(H-95/L-75).

HUMIDITY IS 46%, FEELING LIKE 101.

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THIS IS NOT A SCUM-RAM DODGE TRUCK

HYPNOTHERAPIST MARK WOLF, YO!

RED ALERT---RED ALERT---RED ALERT

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!!!!

Back on Wednesday, Republican Senator Rand Paul made a great short speech that was aired on the C-Span Cable Network. I have shifted over and become Republican. Not that any party is perfect, but the Democrats have not lived up to being for the poor person, by my standards one little bit. If even a little effort is made to show me that they really mean what they used to stand for, I would perhaps recant. You go Mister Paul, I happen to like your dam politics 100%. If you stop and think about that horrible game up on the hill, sir, it is in their interest to have all those things you spoke of that need major reform, not be reformed. As long as the new world goes on the way it seemingly will now since the debacle of the late seventies put some really monstrous things into play; the pendulum that used to swing back and forth, may break before it has a chance this time to reverse itself. I feel this was very meticulously and carefully planned, as too many incredible and clever things just happens to all be woven into the new age political system, to not be intentionally created to work this way.

People can believe anything they want to. But unless they are mindless and brain-dead, they must admit that most of us believe stuff based on our own life experiences and personal stuff, way more than accepting something that simply does not fit into our own relatable store-house of personal life. This is why most of the time, we all fit into groups, from early middle school days right up to old age if we live that ling, and in these groups, are extremely judgmental over all the other ones around us. Whatever happened to the commercials on television telling us TO BE OURSELF, promoting individuality. Folks, if you really want an indicator of when the dictator-mentality is on another roll to rule and reign and control us, it is when the sociological controlling order does away with things like that, and cleverly begins promoting things about individuality being on the doorstep to national disloyalty, when in fact, this horse shit couldn't be further from the truth if it tried. Soon, it will not be legal to own patents and trademarks and copyrights, just watch, it is coming. Oh and not by might or legislators in big smoke filled cigar room up in DC-13-600 either. It will suddenly merely be affordable for only the great Kardashian's of the world, the privileged,

those who trump us with their wealth every single time; to ever have such things. Already, to have a decent home or car that is paid for or even close to being, is legally fixed for only these few one percent scum bag bottom feeder types. I wouldn't have anything bad to say about them, if I was not 100% positive that they are never satisfied to have their 99, but they will not rest until they also take my 1. THAT world, is my mother fuckiGN beef with the super wealthy and arrogant mother fuckiGN bastard ruling class. Oh and they destroyed the once great United States of America by the way. Even in Rockefeller's day, they were happy with their 99 out of the 100 pie. But thanks to Ronald dirtbag Reagan, things changed. Hostile takeovers and a million other things in the magic of Reaganomics, changed all of this in America, FOREVER.

Anyone who reads this needs to get a copy of Paul Rand's speech back on Wednesday, 22 April of 2015, 'Jones Day in Washington', from the re-aired C-Span Cable-TV Network.

All day long, those dirt bag GUEST-ILLEGALS are in and out of the JAMES-APARTMENT, annoying fucking ass me, with continuous slamming of doors. This started yesterday as told while blogging on my last prior blog. It was better for a short while, but ''HERE WE GO AGAIN” as the new kids in town would say so well, back in mother fucking late 1977 and into 1978.

Three weeks ago give or take a few days, things started up with those same guests of the GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS guessing game of the great SARAH KRASSLE from Pearl Harbor Day of 1996. Along with that, came two strange knocks at my door on back to back days. One was a guy who I never saw before asking me if his radio was annoying me as he likes to play it loud. The problem was that I heard no radio, no loud booming subs, no nothing Dorothy Oz, not now how! I told him so and politely shut my door and told him to have a nice day. Then on the following day, strange nabes tried to come into my place to sell me some life insurance. To see if it was legit or not, I said the one thing that just happens to be true, but would scare away any life insurance salesperson. I said you wouldn't want me as your client, I will be dead from cancer in a few months. They left me alone. Maybe it was legit. Who can ever know? I don't think I have throat cancer, but the dying part I know is true. I doubt I will last past summer time. WEEEEEEE, I couldn't be fuckiGN happier about that. Life for me always has sucked and stunk, times a thousand cubed!

THE DAY I HOLD OUT MY ARMS OR ANY HOPE FOR ANYTHING TO EVER GET BETTER FOR ME UNTIL I CAN BE LAID TO MOTHER FUCKING REST, WILL BE AN ICY COLD SUMMER IN MIAMI, FLORIDA. I PROMISE YOU THAT, (IPYT).

The death angel, Mortimer Mortino; is extremely mother fucking annoying, folks. Constant buzzing, left side, right side, it is totally mother fucking cunt ass relentless. Also, not that you could care less, A.G. Pam Bondi, and Sheriff Ken Mascara, ma'am abnd sir, but someone is really hacking my computer, HERE WE GO AGAIN, new kids in fucking town in 1978!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But I'm telling you it's gonna' be all right, in the morning light, huh Mister McKinnon, only we both know that this does not stop at Marcy and Robin, and we both also know, ol' freeen' that if I were to go on and tell all of the mind blowing shit of 08 and 09, I would be wearing not only Joe King's great kicks up my ass BRO, but maybe afterwards, I'd no longer need any trips to wonderful K-MART to shit my pants. How I will remember making my cuzz nuts as shit that day at his PLAZA. He made me nuts and wrecked my only car, huh Exploratron Jerry Texaco of Blucranville? So why not let Leticia Tilley make him a bit crazy back in the early autumn or late summer in 2009? You have all the goddess-dam answers, right CUZZ?????? WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, and maybe just take out the 'W' letter for two nice EEEEEEE vowel sounds!!!!!!!!!!!! Back off me, bastards. Yes folks, between WFMU and WAYV, I am really being reamed and pummeled to hell, cubed. SLAM-SLAM-SLAM, DEBRA MARATTO AND SHERIFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They're fucking mouse jumping me and font hacking me big time, old pal, BOB FCC MCDOWELL, and I don't happen to like this one fucking bit, or think it particularly ''intelesting''. To me it was just 1972 and we were there at the Cooley Hall. Too bad I will have to go through this shit with the Washcloth-Family (TAWF) of the ''Abductors From Ireland'' Club, in a quarter century, Bob ol' freeen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This cunt chewing fucking day is super BOTBAR. JANE FUCKING CUNT WHORE FONDA just nailed my pitiful fucking ass at page eleven of eleven, so let me put up my nice whittle compensation of number fives, YO YO YO YO YO BRAHHHH!!!!!!!!!

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EVERY SINGLE MOTHER FUCKING DAY FOR ME IS TOTAL MOTHER FUCKING HELL. IF I WAS AN ANIMAL, I WOULD BE RELEASED FROM THIS MISERY AND PUT DOWN. BUT THAT IS TOO GOOD FOR HUMAN ME, SO SAYS THE LAWS. THEY JUST WANT TO TORTURE ME WORSE THAN A CONVICTED FELON ON DEATH ROW, AND SOMEHOW FEEL THIS IS OK. AND YOU ALL SALUTE A FLAG LIKE THAT. ALL I CAN SAY HERE IS, ''WOW''.

Earlier on my last short blog, I was going to discuss the nightmare, and then connect it to the EW and many of my EW/Mili-2-Force enemies, but why bother. Let them get their 500 points on the stock market and to hell with poor old frail fudged up pathetic little ass-me!!! But then I shortly thereafter went outside, INTO A WORSE NIGHTMARE WITH A DIRECT MAJOR ASSAULT ON ME BY THE MOTHER FUCKING MILITUFORCE!!!!!!!

I TOLD YOU GINA-I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!

UP-UP-UP-UP, I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!