ETERNAL JOURNAL OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD-Y

THE GLOBAL ENLIGHTENMENT OF MORIANITY.

THE RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM THREE

ETERNAL JOURNAL OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD, SECTION-Y

11:52 POST MERIDIAN

THURSDAY NIGHT

6 JUNE, 2019

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

© 2006-2019, BOM (Blogs Of Mountainpen)

My next door assholes starting banging doors around four this afternoon, but it did not rise to the full blown major assault and elder abuse that it does many many times. Still, looking back now on many things with so much horrible fucking shit that I endure living here in this public housing nightmare building from total DOGTOWN, I know that I made a huge error in not moving from this monster ass putrid place years ago!!!!!!!!! Oh well, Sheriff KJM and Ann King Annihilating Silva and Microsoft Spellchecker, and daughter DAWN-MARIE, Ann's daughter, not mine, PRAISE BE TO THE FUCKING ASTRAL PLANE GODS!!!!!!!!! Many wild things are in the wind all around me, but things started to take a shape all their own on Sarah Jacobson Cooley Hall HH Watergate Day, shortly after I decided to redo an old 1983 song called, “Girl, I'll Tell You Anything”, and make a few changes to it, very minor ones, Mister American Express Goldsmith Mountainpen Miners, and yes again, “OH WELL”. Well, minus two proverbial rivers, let me discuss some really heavy fucking shit, lads and lassies and great awesome lab-techs and lab-dogs, and I guess lap dogs too. First off, the death angel is passing by me major, again now as I speak at a minute shy of fucking midnight, and all day for days and days, right now on my left side. I've had some real Obama-Whopper-Doozies recently, and all on my right side, like wonderful Oprah Winfrey or abbreviated into WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW!!!!

First off, I am not about to ignore shit that no one in this world would either if they were going through this monstrous mother fucking shit for half of a cunt lapping century or so, so just forget it folks, and YARRRRR! But as stated on many of my blog-writings of MORIANITY, there are several items of major consequence that have acted as incredible triggers for me causing me to then experience life altering bullshit directly following these. A couple of days back was June the fourth, or CHOKE DAY, where 1983 on that date was worse for me than anything than ever happened in Normandy, France, ESMWG. I say this because most people have been afforded the great luxury of relating to a whole different set of facts than I have been, namely that death is the absolutely worst thing that mortal man can ever experience. So I am not in any way belittling D-DAY, but what happened to me on June 4, 1983 makes D-DAY look like a roach invasion next to a tank invasion. I am sorry, but that's just the way it is or to quote the mighty CIA-AGENT from the late sixties, impersonating a Campbell's Soup Employee in Camden, New Jersey, DPA, “It's just that simple”, yo! But a really powerful deal happened a few years before this, although it most definitely is all fucking completely tied together in some deep dyed plot from the quintessential depths of DOGTOWN, and that is the farm outside of Haddonfield that was prophesied by me a decade earlier, where my total destruction would take place and sure enough, IT MOST DEFINITELY DID take place! This farm outside of Haddonfield, was indeed a farm in those days that I made that prophesy to my educator at the illustrious COOLEY HALL, Mister DLS (David Leigh Smith). BUTTERCHEESE-BIG ASS BUTT, it became the incredible ROBIN HILL APARTMENTS, OF VOORHEES, NEW JERSEY, DIVIDED PARTIES OF AMERICA, EARTH, SOL, MILKY WAY GALAXY, (Voorhees, NJDPAESMWG)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wonderful Oprah Winfrey times about 20! Yes folks, my goddamn nightmare life from ROBIN HILL APARTMENTS and Debbie Blondie Harry's gal-pal and NABE BELOW ME in UNIT # 1801, while I was residing at Unit #1802, really got me, got me, got me, HUH, ADA RON WIRTZ SENIOR, ME KIND SIR? So allow and 'permit me', Mister Heinz 175 Gozzwald Gottwald Camera-Man, to further illustrate some shit here, for my wonderful BLOGAUDIANS, yo yo yo yo yo yo, and WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW! Before I get into this, I wish to thank my MILITUFORCE ENEMIES for all the weight I will be losing and adding years of better health and life here on this Earth-Planet for me, as a result of a major re-budgeting plan that reduces my food budget by a factor of three, and letting me move away from this PHA hellhole by the late autumn of this mother fucking dirt bag diseased year!!!!!!!!!! I cannot live with roaches that are everywhere and not extinguishable no matter what I do. I DO PLAN however, once out of here, to make the biggest stink to many authorities for all of the horrendous elder abuse and human rights violation injustices that I was forced to endure and suffer with here for eight plus mother fucking nightmare monster horrible years!!!! This also will include favoritism, payoffs, and much more, such as why my across the hall nabes are permitted the use of two fucking apartments, and I was not even allowed to move off of my floor into one apartment, after giving up the one I am in. Oh no, don't allow me anything, but keep persecuting me to my goddamn mother fucking grave, huh wonderful awesome SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA OF THIS NIGHTMARE MONSTROUS SAINT LUCIE, FLORIDA, DPA COUNTY??????

So let us get down to cases and talk about the LOIS FOCA FARM, that lays out there in the farm lands of Voorhees, New Jersey, when the calender was reading 1971, and I was telling Mister Smith, that I somehow knew that this place was out there, and that they were all a part of this wild family that I had recently had recurring washcloth fucking nightmares about, while staying at child molester Tom Reale's Ventnor, New Jersey home in July of 1970, and then sure as LORETTA'S MARY HARTMAN LORD, I really did come to reside there, and then as if the Twilight fucking Zone show turned real and went on steroids, all of this shit happened exactly as I had told Mister David Leigh Smith would in fact happen. But let me tell you all a much wilder tale before trekking on. I am existing physically in a fucking sicko world, where people are all buzzing about stupid nonsense such as was Beyonce Knowles side peeking at some dude at some place the other night, and all of my incredible wild tale, that would potentially save this entire planet from utter ruin and devastation soon, is just being completely ignored, or merely scoffed at, by a handful fucking few folks out here. If Wesley Crusher from the 'NEXT GENERATION STAR TREK' TELEVISION SHOW is out here somewhere by some miracle, or someone who may know this boy-actor; ask him if he has the tiniest clue how powerful that episode was, where he was the only one on the entire Starship Enterprise, who was aware that some 'GAME' had totally taken over everything and everybody? And yes world, THEY FUCKING HAD TAKEN OVER. BUTTERCHEESE and BIG ASS BUTT, they at least had you to set them straight, and you had the ability to do so. I unfortunately am powerless to do that tiny little miracle, and yes, because I am powerless to let you all know this sick monstrous fucking truth that exists all around you all, grab a bible, and learn how very shortly, this entire mess is going to result in the end of life as we all know it to be right now on this EARTH-PLANET!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ 13 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Saga of song writer Mark Mud.

PAu000501582

1983

[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitome of harassment part two.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitome of harassment part 3.	PAu001189027	1989

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BUTTTTTTT BIG ASS BUTTERCHEESE-BUTT, FOLKS, even STAR TREK-TNG could not conceive of the horrendous fucking SHADOW MONSTERS OF PYLE AVENUE AT APARTMENT NUMBER 125-A, IN HADDON HILLS OF WESTMONT, NEW JERSEY IN THE MIDDLE MOTHER FUCKING NINETEEN SIXTIES, HUH GREAT DIVIDED PARTIES COPYRIGHT OFFICE OF THE FUTURE? LET ME GET BACK WHILE I STILL CAN, KEVIN CORNFIELDS AND JAMES EARL JONES, YO YO YO YO YO

[ 28 ]

Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-

Thanx to the shadows.

PAu002237985

1997

Yes there really was, Mizz 401 KRASSLE Virginia Avenue, a Sir James Knowitall Burr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So just what really are powerful LOIS FOCA AGE-10 CONNECTIONS, you may be inquisitive about, or maybe like Cuzz Don, 'you don't give a shit'. Well since I give a shit, here goes nothing, lovely Patty Hollister, and to quote the great Angelique Collins, played by lovely Lara Parker, on “Dark Shadows”, my mysterious ghost from the past!!!!!!!! Well to quote Apollo-Lucifer, who fucked with me in me' dreams, from the great Carriage Lamp Apartments in early 1977, yes great star out there a hundred millions miles away, “Martinique is a very demonic country, HA-HA-HA”, BUTTERCHEESE and BIG ASS MICROSOFT SPELLCHECKER BUTT, I am typing this blog from the Public Housing HOUSE, not the OLD HOUSE on the Collins Family Estate, so screw gorgeous Angelique!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes Sheriff Mascara, I am saving to move out of this monstrous hell-hole, and I will be living on soup and crackers for the next nine months, because if I don't get the fucking hell out of here, THESE DISEASED BASTARDS WILL KILL ME FOR SURE, just as would have Debbie Harry's gal-pal from below me in Unit 1801 back in 1982. So just how much total fucking cosmic magic and intrigue is truly behind and all throughout that wild 1983 song called GITYA, that later in 2012 was rewritten as the greedy fisherman's song? I will answer with this. It still is no match for the LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS deal from the first week in June in 1980, exactly mother fucking 39 years ago to right now, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo, me' kind awesome Sheriff KJM, sir!!!!!!!!!! Also folks, you won't find the title of that song on my list of musical copyrighted works, since this was just one song that was all part of one of the MOHR TUNES COLLECTIONS from back then. After-all, how could I have known then of the absolute significance of that song, since the future had not yet unfolded? Let me rearrange me' buckin pirate hat now Patty. Me buckin ears are under there somewhere, YARRR, maitees. Just don't ask me where, or what little Merry could have possibly done to not be allowed out that Halloween, Mister Knowitall James Tiberius Burr of Gloucester Brightlawns!!!!!!!! Hey don't feel bad Merry. I am not allowed to do anything or even live on this planet, after all of this horrendous shit all went down. Ask the great President Jimmy Carter. He knows as does dad, right James Stuart? WEEEEEEE, sir Chester Frank. Oh y es buddy, I know that you know who you are. I am still trying to learn who I am. You and Goddess Scylla, perfect together, or so says the mighty Tom Kane of 'Jeeuursey'! I JUST TOOK A MAJOR GANG ATTACK OUTSIDE OF MY MOTHER FRUCKING WINDOW, SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA SIR, A BUNCH OF SICKO MOTHER FUCKERS MAKING MONSTROUS NOISE AND HARASSING ME WITH MAJOR ILLEGAL ELDER ABUSE, KIND SIR, YO YO YO YO YO!!!! The time of this assault on me was one minute past one of the clock on this Friday morning, the 7^th day in May, 2019, kind sir!!!!

[ 8 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Mohr demo tunes. (LOIS FOCA on this)

PAu000325091

1981

I AM PRETTY SURE THAT LOIS FOCA WAS ON #8 PROJECT ©

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Before going on, it's time for a

MAJOR COUNTERSTRIKE WITH MAGGIE!

MMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONIC:

Computer, hear my MVP (Mind-Voice-Print). You will be totally absolutely crushing, obliterating, annihilating, and devastating, wrecking, ruining, and utterly wiping out, my enemy neighbors in UNIT #605, that are viciously persecuting me, bringing me endless ROACHES and NOISE, AND WHOEVER IS ATTACKING ME USING LOUD SOUNDS, OUTSIDE OF MY APARTMENT WINDOW INCLUDED AS ALL NEIGHBORHOOD AND BUILDING ENEMIES, USING MAXIMUM POWER on a crush-destruct order, under GENERAL-ORDER-189. Open-Command, General Order #7. Use G-901, G-1133, G-14, G-719, G-13, CG5555-QP4 sub-code, under G-917, CG-2, under CG-18, and HOLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Your old AT&T landline telephone old style 1983 built tone-commands have been data-transferred into the two highlighted long-EEEEE vowel sounds. The high-tone is colored RED. The low-tone is colored BLUE.

Computer (Magnesonic) under my command and precisely matching voice print, I have an image-object (I-O) now placed on your transpower-block (T-B) after I have crush-destructed this. Once empowered, all actual beings matching this I-O on your T-B will be exactly crushed and singed and destroyed as the original I-O. To accomplish the scan, use your ZD technology built into your system. To accomplish this sympathetic reality duplication, use your AD technology, (ZD-Zero-Dimensional), (AD-Atomic Duplicational).

Computer, 'MAGNESONIC', on an 'I' to 'D', A/B—TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM; you will now be transmitted the two empowerization-transmit tones, or ETT'S.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

GO TO G-189, under G-1133, CG-18, AND S---T---O---P

MILITUFORCE ENEMIES USING MAJOR FUCKING MIND CONTROL TOOLS ON THESE NABE-ENEMIES THAT JUST ATTACKED ME, SHERIFF SIR; did what they did, to try and throw me off of my fucking game, as they do not want me to tell you some of the major shit that I am planning to say about LOIS FOCA the song, 1802 ROBIN HILL, NABES BEING USED THROUGH AND VIA MIND CONTROL TELLOSIAN POWERS AND TECHNOLOGIES, and on and on and on I could totally mother fucking go here, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, IPYT lads and lassies and lab techs and lab dogs, AND YES, LAP DOGS TOO, all dreaming out and away from DOGTOWN!!!

If I am so wrong about my facts, why does the logic fit so powerfully, and why have my neighbors always been used to fuck with me and wipe me out, causing me to endlessly need to move, so that I remain even more down and oppressed, and even MORE POOR, if that thought can even be mother fucking conceived, SHERIFF MASCARA, KIND SIR, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO???????????? And here's yet another nice piece of meat for you to gnaw on sir, Shf. KJM. Why did one of your own, an officer of the CJS COURT, ADA RON WIRTZ SENIOR, absolutely refuse to help me with two things, yet did many other things for me including that wild letter that he shared with me from some lady who had written him and who also had been, yessir, a lifelong Atlantic City resident, despite doing extensive traveling all over the entire country as well? These two things were helping me “find Sarah”, and “get to the bottom of the 'Playboy-Bunny' situation”! Hey ga'hed and think this all over and then get back to me with some wild answer, IF YOU CAN, KIND SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YESSIR SHERIFF, I AM AT THE STATUS OF:

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT

THIS IS A LEGAL INTERNET DOCUMENT!

I RAN AWAY IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT IN NEW JERSEY WHEN THINGS GOT BEYOND MOTHER FUCKING TOTALLY INTOLERABLE AND INHUMAN FOR ME, AND I WILL BE DOING IT ALL OVER AGAIN, SHERIFF SIR, BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO DO YOUR MOTHER FUCKING JOB, OH WONDERFUL GREAT KIND SIR, JUST LIKE ADA PROSECUTOR RON WITTZ SENIOR BACK IN JERSEY AT THE CAMDEN COUNTY PROSECUTOR'S OFFICE. ALL OF THIS IS SORT OF MAKING ME REMEMBER THE DAYS OF OLD FUCKING SAM ASPBELL IN THAT OFFICE, PLAYING COWBOY AND FAKING THAT CRIME, AND THE WHOLE PRESS OF THE WORLD REMEMBERS THAT STORY, DON'T THEY MISTER MAJOR CRIMES GRIFFIN MCCOY KEN NOT GLENN FORDICE???????????????

WHAAAAAAAAHAHA-AHA-AHA, REAL MOTHER FUCKING FUNNY, HUH MIKE 1971 MCNULTY, SIR????????????????????

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Music is all tied into this mess, and it always has been. This basic LOIS FOCA 2-chord progression melody is used by Almighty Goddess Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Karge Krassle, in Her Great City, the Capitol City of the Capitol Province of all of Purgatory or the (ASTRAL-PLANE). Last night, in my wild hyperspace travels, and you would say in some of my wild and vivid dreaming situations, I was in a parallel world Atlantic city, swimming in the ocean, as well as on the beach, and in this dream was an incredible friend of Diana Arteemis's, and several lifeguards, and there also was a large dog in this 'DREAM'. I will not at this time tell the details because it is nobody's bizz, other than to say that as June begins, just as in 1980 when I first moved into the 1802 Robin Hill Apartment, I tend to be in some parallel world OTHER ATLANTIC CITY, OVER AND OVER AGAIN, and it follows suit every year, and I am not thinking about this during the day while I am awake, so don't go thinking that this is the case, as it is certainly not the case. I merely am going to say this much for right now, folks. Music is a lot more than even musicians think they know about it. It is the closest thing to powerful hallucinogenic drugs or above normal dosages of some psychotropic drugs in that it can cause various small degrees of what Morianity calls BRAIN TO SPIRIT CONNECTIVITY, (BTSC) for short. Very deep forms of meditations can also do this. The Fascitar in some totally bizarre and extremely inconceivable way, also does this, and does this in a way that is much more powerful than even life threatening doses of acid-25 (LSD) pills, from the Hoffman Labs, that came to the hippie market place, in the nineteen-sixties, and causing many musicians using these chemical brain interactions in tandem and league with vibration-mechanics (music and all the things it is able to do), to come quite close to FASCITAR-LEVEL visions and experiences, or as stated several sentences earlier, BTSC. I learned of all of this from my brushes and personal interactions with both Mister Marcucci and Patty Hollister. Don't get me started, or I'll be fucking typing shit out here all cunt lapping night long, oh wonderful Sheriff sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JULY 23, 2015

THURSDAY MORNING, IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, EARTH, SOL, MW-GAL

THE TIME IS 6:00 A.M.

THE TEMPERATURE IS 75 DEGREES.

RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS 96%, FEELING LIKE 80 DEGREES.

WIND IS WSW AT 0, WITH A TINY GUST TO 4.

YESTERDAY, MY TOWN HIT 94 DEGREES, BUT IT COOLED OFF AND GOT STORMY.

LIGHTNING CAME AROUND AND WAS SO LOVELY.

Everything happens near the old Glassboro State College, huh Mister 500 million secret dollar Inductotherm? Guess ten grand bets look perdy dern lame next to figures like that, sort of like comparing fat ass zit face ugly Moly-Ann with top fashion model NYNY! SHEEEEEEEEEEIT.

COULD I GOD DAM USE YOUR HELP, MIZZ ATTORNEY GENERAL BONDI; UNLESS THE BILLIONATRIES ARE ORDERING YOU NOT TO OF COURSE, HUH C-SPAN?

Pam Bondi, Attorney General of Florida

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SO JUST WHERE IS MY PROJECT NUMBER 29, OH MARVELOUS GREAT POWERFUL COPYRIGHT OFFICE EXAMINERS, AND ATTORNEY GENERAL LOVELY BONDI????????? And why did the Crime Stoppers cleaning lady have to steal my copyright form that day when she robbed my apartment. Sheriff Mascara, sir??????? YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!

JUPITER INLET CAM

WELCOME TO JUPITER INLET, FLORIDA, USA

2006-2015, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

(BOM) BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

© MARK WAYNE MOHR

AFTER MORIANITY BOOK TITLE:

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT LIVES ON IN C-21 & M-3

CHAPTER 003

[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.	PAu001189027	1989

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THE WEATHER BUG (TWB) This map and legend is shared on the BOM.

Advisory Colors Key Severe Thunderstorm Warning Tornado Warning WeatherBug Dangerous Thunderstorm Alert Severe Thunderstorm Watch - Box Tornado Watch - Box Flood Warning Flood Watch Non-Precipitation Advisory Severe Weather Statement Flood Statement Marine Warning Note: The image above may not reflect the current alert state for your county due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the alert and the map processing.

SHERIFF MASCARA SIR, I AM UNDER A VERY HEAVY ATTACK AS OF LAST NIGHT. I wrote this one blog back, remember? Well, call me a mother fucking liar if you want to, but these enemies sent here by my family, the billionaires, and Atlantic City and Wall Street; have defied both me and the great SHERIFF of SL County, Ken Mascara. The exact same thing was done to me ALL OVER AGAIN. The knock on my door by these annoying women, and at the same time, about half past seven last night, with another stupid excuse of pure nonsense. Then this time, not at 3 or 4, but at 5 this morning, another fire alarm tore into my sleep and is breaking my health rapidly, in my already weakened condition. The fire people came to my floor and knocked on a door right near me, so it is my nabes here messing me up, SHERIFF SIR, YO, and this is attempted murder, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME; I WAS MURDERED BY MY FAMILY, AS WELL AS MY ENEMIES FROM ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY; EXACLTLY AS ANN KING'S GREAT JANUARY OF 2010 LETTER TO ME, THREATENS TO DO.

SARAH KRASSLE OWNS AND RULES THIS PLANET

CHAPTER 29

Oh baby, do I have some things to tell.

'Oh the mists are here'; dah-dah, dah-dah-dah, dah-dah-dah-dah-DAH-dah. But these are a lot more intricate, PP sir, than just painted lines that come and go, or loops like 6 and 9, and linking metallic pieces also known as 'chains'. This Briggbase entity is here on Earth, dreaming they are the entertainment world, and have absolutely no conscious recall to it. Perhaps some know this deep down inside. Based on things I've seen and heard for decades, I truly believe that. But what I'll be touching on is another one of those items where I strongly recommend to anyone in less than perfect or near perfect health; please have someone or something standing by to assist you, in case you freak out or get ill, as did Joe Paget up in Pennsylvania, back early in this century, after I told him some really huge dam shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You've been dam warmed, my kind people out here, whoever the hell you really and truly are.

Now if you really don't want to hear it; in all seriousness folks, since the great Mork and Mindy show borrowed my idea that caught on all over the world right after that, of holding the ears and singing la-la-la-la, do that if you must, or just leave this blog. If you don't, then please prepare to hear some things you may not want revealed to you, as there will be almost no arguments to present in your head when you leave your computer or phone or tablet or whatever, and try going about your normal routine and day. That's a dam promise!

Now before I even get started, the entity I now plan to discuss, READ MY IDEA/PLAN, or whatever you may wish to think of it, and I'll gladly explain to you just how I mother fucking know that. A brand new and extremely fucking weird HACK struck me. It showed an error line, you know, those squiggly red lines used by many spell-checker-programs, to show a document writer that something got misspelled. Just as I wrote this, now my spell-check system again has become totally disabled, so I'll need to sign off and then back on again, folks.

FUCK THE ESS, CHAPTER 3

Now since my enemies are determined to put me through hell and eventually covertly murder me, Thaxton/Braxton/Uwich, all all GASME games expert pipe apartment repairmen who work for Columbia Broadcasting Time Travelers Corporation, or some reasonable facsimile thereof, I am going to tell you what led my cousin to some of his horse play nonsense, without even going through a foyer in a mansion the size of slut bag Kim Kardashian's. So that you can know right away; that there is a whole dam lot more to follow after this, for other later freaking times!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When I went to that throat specialist's office early in 1984 after returning from freaking Florida to visit my ex-Chief Recording Engineer, Mister Howard Solomon who moved down to Orlando a year or so back to buy into a small roadside food and eats place a few miles from Seaworld; Kate; I encountered a very beautiful assistant named Mariah. I had absolutely no idea that the ESS existed, or that all of us have virtually unlimited copies of ourselves all over this place called by some the hyperspace and called yet by others, the fifth dimension, it really is six and half a dozen. But the point is that she knew me and she hypnotized me. She was getting off as my appointment was over, and asked me if I was heading to go down I-95 towards the city, (Philadelphia), and would I take her, as her car had broken down. She invited me into this house along the road, of course you had to exit the highway and drive around, but I did not realize just where this place was until years later when it flashed back, when Pedersen and Harner and I were all driving in my car and had left a place called the Fresh Tracks Recording Studio of Philadelphia. I forced it quickly out of my mind. It was only until around three years back early in March of twelve if memory serves at all accurately here, that I began to remember again, that I was invited into this house, and everyone was acting very weird, and it is also the same place that the Comcast Cable nightmare with the ESS, was, as far as being the precisely interior decorated place. They both were the same place, one view was in my head of inside, and one view was in my head of outside. The highway ran by just above us. I never said a word to Paul, my ex-bizz partner about any of this. I know he had more than he wanted to handle with just Sarah Callio and my going on with her, and anyone reading this can go and ask him, and I know he will tell you that I am speaking the total truth here. He may also add in what a total mother fuckiGN asshole jerk off scum bag I am along with a hundred other such nice and lovely thoughts that he may have about me. Oh well, Say Levy, in or out of good old France!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My medical condition was given to me by the ESS so as to allow me to have all of this happen to me. When ESS makes a plan, it is not like anyone in one dimensional mind sets can start to even freaking imagine. IPYT. They see a flowchart as complex as a 100 terra-byte super computer with Q-bit-Tech!

That is the first thing you need to see. When you arrive anywhere near this mind set, then and only the good peeps, can you start to understand THAT FAMILY of FORBIDDEN WASHCLOTHS and just how and why Tom Reale was also sent into the situation. Without all of these things, happening on cue, down to a split nanosecond, I promise all of you, this entire end result of me in 2006-2008, could never have gotten around to exist. This to them, would be as incomprehensibly negative, as the end of the world would be to just about any and all of you. Laugh at me or call me a freaking liar all you want to, as I know, and God knows (GODD-ESS)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As this new BLOG-BOOK marches freaking onward, I will tell you what I have come to remember in that house on that day, that I suppressed memories about for coming up on 31 years now, KAL, in detail, but carefully, as we all can imagine that even I have to be careful.

With the powers of the ESS, the possibilities to any and all things in this life, are exactly what gorgeous Elizabeth Montgomery said, some time back now, on that great sixties sitcom television show called 'Bewitched'; “ENDLESS”. For reasons I will later let out, maybe, I am calling all of this, the Punxatonney-Penn Syndrome. Memories trigger, when we do or see just the right things, and at just the right times. Otherwise, they remain in hyperspace as energies. No one is even able to make up a single thing. If you have a 'dream' and you tell it to someone and change it or add to it out of what you believe to be your imagination, guess what, it is not. None of us can make up anything. We cannot be original. Every possibility, Mizz Montgomery, is already long taken, and all that any of us will ever be able to do forever and endlessly, is shuffle things around. Endless combinational shuffling, or said another way, hyperspace ops. You can believe this people; I have merely cracked open a door, and you are all about to shit yourselves, if you are not in the ESS already; when I take you further and further inside of this hideous mansion from hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is quarter past three on Friday afternoon. I am planning to leave the United States forever and change my identity. I cannot say any more than that, or I won't live to see tomorrow morning, Misses Sudano Gaines!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bob McDowell of FCC old buddy, and kind sir; they just fucking hit me with the (`~HACK) at 3:17, YOYO YOYO YOYO Sarah Y-J Callio!!!! Jumping fucking Jehovah. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

It all began at once when I's too happy to see, that something really bad was gonna' happen to me. You planned it all and now you're just a laughing with glee, while something really bad is now a happenin' to me, and that's the way it goes. That is the first chorus of my early June of 1969 song lyrics, to the song titled, “That's The Way It Goes”. Approximately four weeks later, underneath the Atlantic City Central Pier, on the night of the fifth of July, lovely Patty knocked me down and gave me the time of my life. Still, things like this can get a young lad such as myself, only age 14 and one half, quite mixed up, just as Misses Goodfellow and Russel Thaxton. Still, we all can see why he was so interested and felt gravitated towards, my story, and made that comment on the WFMU Radio Page. WEEEEEEEEEEEE; Mister Chester-Frank, sir, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Before the mass population insists that Morianity is some huge ass mother fucking super delusion, from a total nut case whackadoodle person; there are an awful lot of things that I can produce that makes the odds of that, awful mother fucking small and slim, and maybe even generally broke-down Deezy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In any event, the 1969 chain-steal nocturnal interaction just slightly over five months later on from my 'under the boardwalk' and somewhat world famous and totally misunderstood event that occurred, not only all “happened to me”, oh wonderful Ed Green 'job keeping' United States LOC Copyright Examiners, BUTTERCHEESE and BIG-ASS BUTTS, but so did that wild huge sky-event after that when I got on the short-tard bus to go the Cooley Hall High Hell school an hour later on. This is when the entire sky over eastern Camden County filled up with that gigantic super awesome lovely three criss-crossed jet vapor trail, AKA a CHEMTRAIL, since the Youtube Channel has millions upon billions of entries regarding the phenomenon of vapor trails that do not disapait and disappear away from view, shortly after they are made from a high flying jet. Adding these things to Privecode, Hydroglacia, and the countless 1986 green orbs that altered my life forever in horrendous fucking ways, and we get irrefutable and indisputable and absolutely unexplainable shit by mortal world thinking and rationalizing. Yes Kate, don't throw any ice cream on me, and I congratulate you on your upcoming wedding. Just please don't beat me up, now, or in 1997. TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh for fucking crissake Sheriff sir, my life is an eternal endless nightmare on goddamn ass steroids, kind sir, yo. What can I say? The things she does to me, beyond me fantasy, Mister Tom Glenn!!!!!!!!!! Why won't you believe me, old buddy? Did you also get “connected” to THEM?????????????????? They don't fucking miss a trick tommy, if you're out there. I wish you would contact me instead of THEM, and we can hash out lots of old bullshit. I wish you the best, me ol' pal, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MY OTHER 5 BLOGS, ENJOY THEM whenever you get a spare bit of time, they all tie into this newest blog that began in early December or thereabout in the year 2011.

• Morianity Bible For Millenium Three:
• Morianity Foundation
• The Epitome of Harassment - Internet Version
• To Whom It May Concern From The Head Morian
• RATS, TATS, & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL

HOW I DESIRE TO DIE IN THE ELECTRIC CHAIR.

OH BABY I'LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU SO, AND PRECIOUS I NEED YOUR CODES TO SHOW, 1-2-3.

WELL PEOPLE, I AM TOTALLY BUSHED. IT IS 13 PAST 3 NOW, NICE AND COOL OUTSIDE, AND TIME FOR ME TO CRASH OUT OF THE BODY FOR A WHILE. WEEEEEEEE. I DO WANT TO THANK THE WONDERFUL WETV CABLE STATION FOR PUTTING MY FAVE SHOW BACK ON, WE ALL LOVE IT, AND THANKS FOR THE ALL NIGHTER YESTERDAY. I DON'T FORGET MY FRIENDS, OR MY ENEMIES. THANK YOU AGAIN, AND MAY THE GODDESS BE WITH YOU, AS IF SHE IS, YOU HAVE IT MADE!!!!!!!!!!!!! So who out here does not believe in random not being random, as I just pulled this out of thin air and capped it in, me folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AHA-AHA-AHA.

MIDDIE ISISCYLLA HAS REVEALED TO ME, A MAJOR PIECE OF WISDOM; THAT MY MIND COULD NOT HAVE COME TO PRODUCE, WITHOUT HER GREAT HELP!!!!!!!!!!!

No human being told me this, any more than any human being gave Saint Peter while still wearing his coat of flesh, the answer to a question posed to him by the great Master and Messiah, Jesus Carpenter, the CHRIST. It came with no bright flash, no loud bang, no wild physical feeling within my body, but it came nonetheless, kapow, and so I am here typing this blog as a direct result, instead of just about being ready to retire into a cozy bed for the night. Hay the bed can wait, right Emit Cigs?

This entire computer nonsense is for the birds. Folks want to remain way to secretive, and to me, it is silly and stupid, like we are all 6 year olds playing spies and agents. This is not James Bond, this is a real world, or is it really an incredible simulation from Sarah Krassle's computer as I said all along for decades???????? They don't all laugh at me so loudly, Professor Kaku and Hawking, old pals. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!! Why did I begin playing with voices and tape recorders? Because I too liked games and fun stuff, but I was a freaking 17 year old kid and decided to grow up in a couple more years and live in a real world as a freaking adult. What if all this time, I am still that boy, just dreaming this entire life went by, AGAIN, I am never old, I am never young, I just keep circulating around like a pathetic washing machine, only never getting better or cleaner, just dizzier and more pathetic. Where are you Rodney Dangerfield, in your caddy-shack???????? That does me lots of good, old buddy. Does this get a 'WOW'?????

Powerful forces are surrounding me. They do not have to throw me up on walls and into high mounted air conditioning units such as was done to me in my mom's apartment in 1976. Go wash your hands in Smithtown and Oyster Creek, David Ultimate-Fighter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey FBI and FCC; Russian Paula just hacked out my Microsucks Spell-Checker system again, so there may be some misspelled words, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So B4 closing out this fucking whittle bwog today, Mister Fwudd sir, let me 'sound bite off' with a June 2014 blast from the past, to refresh your memories, and whet your apatite for **** soon to follow. Yes Paula, I was badly sunburned, and I looked like hell, big lovely goddess girl. Sorry oh great queen. It won't happen again. Please don't hurt our mutual pal Regis. He didn't mean you any harm. You're as bad as Dawn and Michelle. Everything with you duddesses is always a 'shot' or a 'threat' Grow up Paula!

JUNE 24, 2014, with or without any whispering ghosts.

TUESDAY MORNING, AT 6:55,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE, 73 DEGREES FNHT.

HUMIDITY IS STILL HOLDING 100%, and STICKY-YUK.

Since I observed in 1982 that I do not ever seem to die and stay dead, after dying from a fatal situation, and appeared to wake up and it all was a dream, just too many times to all be some weird and outlandish coincidence; this is why after a dozen years from my last being poisoned, my health was getting pretty good. Then came a lifetime of abuse 'catching up with me' in this cycle, and it is doubtful that I will be here much longer at the age I am, and instead, I will go to sleep one night, you in this future here will see no more blogs and the world will say “I am dead”. But I, as has happened 196 times now, will find myself waking up from where this entire adult life was a crazy nightmare, and will find myself back in Mildred Young's class at school. Each time that this happens, I convince myself this life was not a dream, I really had been a grown up man and lived an entire life, but as all dreams fade very fast, as far as detail and consequence, into the submission of shadowy fantasy, where common sense tells me, no way, it was just a dream, and before too long of a time passes; I am reintegrated with my life as an adolescent, with my memories before that in perfect tact as well. The dream part only resurfaces after meeting the music genius, Mister Pedersen, during my midlife crises while trying to find the mysterious Sarah from my past. I never go back far enough to where I can undo and redo the error of not becoming friends with her. Suddenly I will just be trapped, all over again, in the next cycle of roughly 30-70 years, that has played out for 196 times now, and began in the first place, because of a strange invention, and two strange guests of the ESS, James Burr and Zvonko. Sarah likes to play her fave game every time Pearl Harbor Day rolls around in 1996; another typo, so often on blogs I say Pearl Harbor day in 1997, but this is an error and an obvious mind or machine hack, either way, a (PBHE). When she talks about my “guessing these names of guests”, she doesn't really mean Mary Moore, out on that hotel balcony that day years ago in that lovely green dress of hers. She means the exploratron travelers who are interfering with my life. As this blog continues along, not only will more stuff about the HOW TO with all of this exploratronic shit be talked about; but also, the details of the game she wants me to play. Who knows, maybe to even help me break out of this hell-cycle I have been in for more than 8,000 years; and that is just this lifetime. Cycles are merely our own energies at will, deciding to relive the experience in lieu of dreaming the next sequence of dreams, only the joke is that all dreams are being dreamed in both time and parallel hyperspace realities, and being stuck in any one dream-set, or lifetime, is merely someone with a tape recorder and a room full of cassette tapes, or to move this up to the digital age, someone with a CD player or computer flash drive player system, and thousands of tunes on this thing all digitally patterned to perfection, and waiting to be listened to, only the owner of the device decides to fixate on one tune, and play it over and over, until eventually, he or she does indeed move on and play the other tunes. Something in this life is so powerful that until I get something right about it, I will be stuck endlessly in this dream set cycle or lifetime, playing the endless repeat feature and hearing this endless tune. The only hope of escape, in my opinion right now; lies in this wild game that SSJK wants me to play with her, as she so told me, back on December 7, 1996. Who knows, maybe each time around has small differences. It would seem hard to fathom this, because it is just me refocusing my mind-energies on the life of dreams that I just had, and as I lay dying and ill in my bed, with my abilities, I can go back into myself at a younger age, and would wake up when the body is recharged and rested, only this time, the body is worn out and dies, leaving me again, to be 17 and start over from here, just as I've been doing, and of course no one believes me, so screw them. Why would anyone in this world make up such a wild story and claim it to be real, when they could publish all this great shit as fiction, and eventually some publisher would make me rich. But as stated earlier, this is not about money, not for me. This is about my eternity with the great Sarah Krassle, and even beyond that, never giving up my desire and burning yearning for reaching total nirvana, absolute non existence, a total impossibility for anyone who is an existor, but I still think about it day and night forever and forever. You either exist or you don't exist, and time is only real out in the multiverse. It is not that it is not important to have time in higher dimensional reality, but simply put, time exists as part of “SPACE-TIME-MIND”, and above the multiverse, there simply is no time, and no space; just mind. Beyond that, mind that is all commingled together, exists as zero-dimensional void infinity. At this state, even MIND would be as hard to fathom and contemplate, as space-time is, where only mind exists, and can create the space and the time at will, merging it with mind, to create dreaming interactions. But I promised to get a bit into the more down to Earth step by step instructions for mastering the exploratronic realities, and so I will indeed move this along with a few new lines for anyone who so wishes to cogitate on any of this; can do so. And indeed, this will follow as these 2018 blogs progress onward!

Yes NG-ADS, it is amazing how it all works, but then, that is merely the microcosm of reality working through its larger source. I knew this before your pal mentioned it to me, but I just kept me whittle Herman Munster mouth shut. Then there are the human sharks as well, so please folks; don't even get me started with those lovely **** eaters!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

Man oh man, what a horrible bullshit world I live in Sheriff sir! LIKE WOW, BIG-O!

Jeepers creepers and GEE-MEN!!!!!!!!!!

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Oh dear Lordess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What a crock of crapola this entire universe is, Sheriff sir!!!!!!!!!

My mother's birthday is today, great Federal Bureau of Investigation. You had her so damn paranoid when I was mother fucking growing up that she did not allow us to have a telephone, a checking account at a bank, or me to tell friends where I lived, and so on, you get the picture. You'd be real proud Mister Hoover, well, it WAS YOU back then! Still these mother loving mental illnesses are passed on down the line in generations of families through the great system code of DNA, huh Professor Michio Kaku and Mister David Childress? Aniwho, happy birthday Mom. You would be 99 years old today, right along with Quentin Collins and all of the great I-Ching gang!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My dad would have turned 99 on the tenth, as my parents were precisely one week apart in age, right down to the year of 1919. Next year, that will be a whole damn ass century ago, folks. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just about every mother loving night now, PAULA THE GREAT KING OF ATLANTIC CITY AND SAHASRA DAL KANWAL, I suppose as a more truer all mighty address; takes me in spirit, to quote the 'KING' James Version of the Holy Words (Bible Scripture), to her area in Atlantic City, most of the time right there where she sang her song LOIS FOCA to me in June of 1980 Earth Time, or 'eternity' Her 'time', and sometimes right outside of her great WAYV-FM station. Then sometimes on Ziggy's Beach at the Central Pier, where SHE did unspeakable things to me when I was only fourteen and a half years of freaking age!!!! Mary, Joseph, and King Akoslem, help me Mister Rushdie. Maybe they should just put me out of my misery as they nearly did to you, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

These turd sucking assholes are still banging in and out, not real loud or bad,but Jesus Moses Christmas shit, it is mother fucking half past two in the goddessdamn MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING, YO!!!!!!

What a mother fucking pain in the cock sucking ass life an be, especially if your goddamn ass name happens to be MARK WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN HUNTINGTON MOHR!

Paula the Russian has my mouse so messed up that it makes a child's playroom, look like a palatial banquet hall, in freaking comparison. Yes sir, there are a lot of people in the world, some who want to kill me, while others merely just want to beat me up at the Dairy Queen in Abseacon. Help me Hillary!!!!! You know I heard my name at that rally plain as day, H.C. What was that all about? You know, when you had your pal Katie Queen with you, and singing her great Morianity Theme Song!

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO

CHAPTER 120

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295

SEND-BACK-TEXT DATE AND TIME FILE:

CH-120-040911.463

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

THE MILLIONTH COUNCIL AND ME

BLOG 3RD SUBTITLE: SATURDAY UTILITY SIEGE LIVES ON 601.

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

To use the forward and mortal language of the human awake world, I came out of a horrendous nightmare at fucking just shy of half past fucking ten this morning. I went to blog the nightmare, and the computer modem of the great COMCAST CABLE COMPANY was all fucked up, AGAIN. Either NICK is doing this peeps, or COMCAST is fucking with me for other reasons that I have no clue to. It is one or the other, there is no mother fucking option three or four or five, and etcetera. As they told me to do, I unplugged the unit for a while and plugged it back in, and then it reboots; but I know you are doing this to me Ninny McKannon. Where is your old girl friend from 'citizens band' with those nice letter initials, transferred like you with World-Lab-Teck????????????? You know you fucking son of a snake bitch, I know about all the same technologies that you do, and I will soon prove to the residents of Planet freaking Earth that IAD control is real and being used on all of us continually, you prick eating pile of shit, you and all your fire-mall buddies from my newest nightmare you just engineered, you fucking ass freak!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HELP ME ROBERT MCDOWELL, FCC, WHERE ARE YOU? WHY WON'T YOU LET ME FUCKING PROSECUTE THESE MISERABLE DISEASED JOHNNEY FASTER MOTHER FUCKING JERK OFF DICK IN THE MOUTHS???????????????????????????

Every Saturday now, they illegally interrupt my fucking service that I pay for, put me back on 36th Avenue, and get Scott ass free away with it. Is this fair, kind sir?

The nightmare interaction was beyond horrible, and took place back in New Jersey, in a parallel universe where the thugs I have to deal with here at the HARVEST on 25^th and Orange, were all my bosses at the security company where I used to be employed at. Ninny was there along with the real DEEDEE, two dudes under total IAD-CONTROL unless they have been 'connected up' directly, and this can mean anything anyone would want to translate it into. We all have times where we wonder why peeps are doing shit to us, and it makes about as much sense as nothing, and you all know I am being straight and on the fucking level with you here, so don't one of you lie and comment that I'm bull fucking shitting when you know fucking better, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am growing tired and weary of being picked up by this shit head bully and lifted off the ground, first the Lakehouse-36, and now this shit that I crashed out of at 10:30, what is this, January fucking 29^th all over again in the reverse meridians? Why is this number so important yo you BEGTQ??????????? This dude then proceeds to tell me and I quote, “You never liked me”. I kept telling him this is total nonsense and that I never had any reason to dislike you, all though you have done so much shit to me. I was raised to give peeps all the benefits of the doubt. I had weird parents, but good honest parents who believed either in the good book, the golden rule, or just the old fashioned June Cleaver fifties value system. Take your mother fucking pick, as my dad was no religious believer, and told me it was all a huge hoax, and I would not accept that back then, but realize now the TRUE POWER OF PARLOR TRICKS, MIRACLES, AND NEW CULTS THAT GROW TO EPIC PROPORTIONS VIA THE USAGE OF MIRACLES. Even the great Pope uses this as a spiritual yardstick for measuring out who to make a saint out of or who to you know what, I am correct “Miss Chilli 601 radio”, or not?

SOME MOTHER FUCKER DID NOT LIKE BLOG SAFE JOURNAL CHAPTER 119 VERY MUCH. That much is quite obvious, and should be to a mentally challenged child, let alone a normal grown freaking adult, YO.

And think of this peeps, that is only the surface scratched peach shaved fuzz off of a HMS Macy-Titanic Ocean liner sinking iceberg, so please don't lift that up. What is it about these two that they enjoy lifting up so many things? After-all, there is me on two occasions, large ships in great spirit-world cities, and so I wonder and ponder, not wander, prior blog typo or mind-hack, but really, shit man, what a mystery, huh Captain-70????????????????????????????

Obviously my CIVIL, HUMAN, and CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS mean nothing to anyone who is supposed to be protecting its fucking citizens from abuses. You know it is funny there, Lads and Lassies and Labradors, I mean sheeeeeeeit, all this time I have been telling the world how PC has ruined my life and how it is all part of them knowing my dirty little two secrets/problems, and using them against me, and I must admit that I commend Mister Wolf for growing up and realizing that peeps can change, and when forced to adapt, do indeed adapt, and that many circumstances beyond control indeed do happen to peeps, gee thanks for realizing that after pounding me for a couple of fucking decades, but anyway, without PC, (POLITICAL CORRECTNESS), how long would I survive in a world with things being the way they were back in the 'GOOD OLD DAYS' of sex, drugs, and rock-N-roll? Not very fucking long, right??????????? So for every downside, there is a major upside, so I say today to SATAN, and the evil world he controls, HA-HA-HA-HA-HA----HA-HA mother fucking germ swallowing 'cunt rapper'!!!! Let us shoot at the moon, dreaming Jed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Or we can shoot at the super-moon, but in any case, the nightmare was so horrible that I am now in a super fucking pissed off mood, and combine that with the modem hack attack, Stacey freaking Lattisaw, and I am fit to be roped and tied and arrested, David Roth. So how close is this particular universe to unfolding the way it did when the dudes on the bull horn arrested us out there near Newhell? Thank you for protecting me DEEDEE my lovely big black birds, or trying to. I cannot believe the bright-lighters attacked me again so quickly after blogging my freaking chapter 119 just hours ago. I do not 'dislike' any of you, so stop freaking picking me up and either choking me, or telling me stupid ass things. You dislike yourselves, you have to. After-all, how can pigs enjoy wallowing all around in their stinky ammonia pig shit, one might wonder or wander? Well, my philosophy on that, is that there is the conscious and the unconscious levels of awareness, not only with humans, but from any one celled creature, right on up to the most advanced possible form of so called 'life' or Astral-Dreamdowners.

Take that for whatever it is worth, and remember that it is only my way of seeing the truth here. We all have good and bad in us, as carbon interaction transfers the energy reality of polarities of negative and positive, into evil and righteousness. It is human arrogance to think that anything lies beyond this.

I AM NOW GOING TO TERMINATE THIS TRANSMISSION, ARNIE-GOV-SIR, YO!

From green orbs to white tri-trails. The sky is literally full of many splendored things for the mountainpen, huh lovely Hydroglacia, and all you other lovely stars out there in the MWG. You are all so very beautiful, yo!!!!!!!! Fuck you Spellchecker, why can the song use the word, but not this blogger, yo yo yo yo?

END Transdimensional, and YESSIR/MAHM, END TRANSMISSION.