ETERNAL
JOURNAL OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD, SECTION-HH
3:57
ANTE'
MERIDIAN
MONDAY
MORNING
24
JUNE, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
Mark
Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr
©
2006-2019, BOM (Blogs Of Mountainpen)
THE
GLOBAL ENLIGHTENMENT OF MORIANITY.
THE
RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM THREE
Thank
you Diana
for coming over as I started this blog today. IWALU baby
blond
and you know that!!!!!! I would give anything in this world if you
would come right into my bed with me and electrocute me so that I can
be with you forever
and ever and ever,
lovely baby-blond-girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION!!!!!!!,
& WOW & WEEEEEE, WONDERFUL
SIR CHESTER-FRANK AND WONDERFUL
OPRAH WINFREY, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SHERIFF
KENNETH J. MASCARA, KIND SIR, YO; I AM UNDER ANOTHER
ASSAULT. AN HOUR AFTER WAKING UP AT AROUND HALF PAST TWO OR SO THIS
MOUUUUUUUURNING ME' KIND SHERIFF, THE MILITUFORCE STRUCK ME
MERCILESSLY WITH A MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING HEAT-DESTRCT-DEATH WEAPON
BEAM, SIR, YO YO YO YO YO. Then at 3:41, some mother fucking jerk off
slammed their cunt chewing door super loudly, at this ungodly mother
fucking hour! JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE-LOUISE, surfer Fonty!
This
blog will discuss the FAWCES that
humanity calls “LUCK”, the
study of it, or rather the LACK OF STUDY BY ANY
SERIOUS SCIENTIFFIIC RESEARCHERS, and its
MIND BENDING MOTHER FUCKING EFFECTS on the entire
human
race, from womb to cunt
lapping tomb! IMHO this is perhaps the most ignored and under-valued
item anywhere, and is talked about only in joke and jest, and those
who seem to believe in its real and true powers over all of us, are
called to this very day in this so-called enlightened technological
age, “superstitious”
folks from the dark aged past, roaming the Earth with the now extinct
dinosaurs. FOLKS, MY MOTHER FUCKING MORIANITY
has now told you that the mathematical formulas created and used by
the author named Mountainpen, HAVE
ABSOLUTELY PROVEN, that we are all here on this
EARTH-PLANET, being used by a bunch of deadly and fucking dangerous
'GASME-GAMES'
PLAYING GODS, FROM THE ASTRAL-PLANE (PURGATORY-PLANCK-TIME)
spirit-world of Patricia Hollister's candles, that
there is nothing whatsoever that any of us can do about it, and that
we're all totally and completely mother fucking screwed and fucked,
FOREVER. Nice happy thoughts, huh gorgeous Egg Harbor township
TWINBAY-DESIRE'???????????????? If my formulas don't prove and show
to your satisfaction, that my claims are all real, and in light of my
nearly fourteen year blogging project in tandem with it, then there
simply is nothing else that I can ever do, and I am just casting my
great pearls of wisdom into an endless pen of total stinking
swine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mock me and disbelieve
all of this AT YOUR OWN PERILL, because
any professor at a top university in a mathematics department,
will have to conclude, upon long and very careful study and scrutiny
of my paper-roulette, that indeed, my story, fantastic as it may
appear, concerning the GASMEGAMES-GODS of the spiritual energy realm
or Purgatory, before THE BIG BANG, is all true and real, and that
reality is just THEM, playing games with ALL OF FUCKING ASS HUMANITY,
and THAT IS ALL that is, ever was, and ever will be going on here, on
this wild fantastic and totally fucked up EARTH-PLANET, YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
am making plans to leave Florida forever, and possibly even this
entire world. I will not discuss this matter any further,
because too many people have the huge goal that they had, back when
they were other prior persona's, as was I, and hiding in caves, and
writing numerous love songs for
my lovely Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, that you all call
the psalms. In Quakertown in the early nineteen-sixties, I
was still called by all of the youth in the largest playground, “The
champion with the black snake”,
and that was code for the great sling-shot dude on the Earth-Planet.
I did not like giant-attacks then, nor do I nearly three mother
fucking thousand years in the future in this here and now, as it is
always NOW HERE, just as Mister Einstein of Princeton University
claimed right along!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A major right side mother
fucking DEATH ANGEL attack is
striking me now as I pen this blog at twenty-two minutes past four
this diseased fucked up MOUUUUUUUURNING!!!!
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Yes,
you're not the only one who can do such things, Mizz
Safka, first and last names, yo!
208-208-208-208,
Patty and her magical candles were never any match for her wonderful
and awesome pirate jokes however, huh Mister Jim Tiberius Burr of
Gloucester SHARK-SHARK City.
Watch out there, Misses Cuzz 'Aunt' Ruth Huntington Gottwald of
Babyblond, New York (Babylon).
May 18, 2013
Market Summary
Select a portfolio
Dow
Dow Jones Industrials
15,354.40
--------------------------------- I TOLD
YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, FOLKS!!!!
+121.18 +0.80%
S&P 500
S&P 500
1,667.47
+17.00+1.03%
NASDAQ
NASDAQ Composite
3,498.97
+33.72+0.97%
FTSE 100
FTSE 100
6,723.06
+35.26+0.53%
Quotes are Real Time from Nasdaq Last Sale when available, or delayed from primary listing source. Currency in USD.
Or they in
REGULAR-REAL TIME, oh wonderful and very
illustrious U.S. © Office??????????
MAY
6, 2015,
LATE
WEDNESDAY NIGHT AT 11:45,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 65 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY------(H-80/L-65)
HUMIDITY
IS 97%,WIND CHILL IS 64 DEGREES.
WIND
IS ENE AT 4, GUSTING TO 30.
Dudes
and duddesses, please know that I never meant to do anything to
anyone, and if you stop to really think seriously about my blogs for
ten years now that discuss my life for close to a half century of
life time; I
am not
the aggressor
here,
and have always been just some poor fucking cunt eating schmuck who
is defending himself 24-7-365.2422, against monstrous frightening
aggressors. You go Mister 1967 fist pounding United
Nations Mister Khrushchev!
You tell them too, Chester Perkowski. Don't let hotels, and radio
stations, and shops, and demonic powers, change your life too much;
old pal. Tell Secretary of State back in 1969,
Mister McNamara
I said so, too, old buddy. Marie
Stromyer and 'I
WILL BE DEAD',
soon; Mister Patterson!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Blare out all of the operatic music you want, lady; because it
changes nothing at all. WOW!!!!!!!
The
WeatherBug cut my link back on the first of May, and that changes
nothing either, other than not allowing my wonderful blogAUDIANS to
get the local area weather from me any more, yo yo yo yo yo
yo!!!!!!!!!!!
IT'S
GONNA' BE ALL RIGHT, IN THE MORNING LIGHT, OR SO I'VE BEEN TOLD IN TH
ELATE SEVENTIES. THERE'S
A
FLAW
IN MORE THAN MY
THEORIES,
MOMMY DEAREST!!!!
NO MORE ROACHES IN THE DINNER PLATES PLEASE, YOU WICKED
WITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
One
thing that I do know for sure. This is no theory, and it belongs to
Mister L&O Anderton and Ross the 1983 Super Boss.
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''!
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, and how I am going to die again soon. This time, I
doubt I wil return until it is 1969 again, and I trance into myself,
as I have done about 200 times now.
Why
I don't stop this, is anyone's guess; and degenerate gamblers are a
group who definitely relate to my behavior of destruction and
eternal doom. It explains my ''weird bitter state'' that I developed
soon after I tranced into myself, each time. I remembered what was
done to me
before, and before, and before, and before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, before, and before, and before,
before, and before, and before, and so forth.
Whoever
out here, from Trump, to the wealthiest people on this planet, to the
greatest in any capacity, beware: If you have
done this to me, you will pay a stiff
fucking price!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAYV or no
WAYV. WFMU or no WFMU. How's
this for some nice fucking aggression, great and wonderful Bancroft
Special Education School, (COOLEY-HALL)???
Enough emotion and anger for you, Doctor Jim
Garrigan, and sir David Leigh fucking
Blackboards 1970 Smith???????????? OH MOTHER FUCKING
SHEEEEEEEEEEIT, YO!!!!!!! Impersonal mathematics, gimme' a mother
fucking bweak here, willya', Mizz Margie 1985
Leo from Caldor Store Security????????
70%
of my followers vanished, poof, Sir Harry Potter, way more magically
than any fictional material ever could be! WEEEEEE!!!!
|
But
yes, Doctor Shirley Grantglands; you might say from here to hell and
back, THAT THIS IS INDEED, MY PROBLEM.I know for a fact it sure as
shit isn't your dam problem, back in 1983, or up here in 2014, and
yes, I said in my last blog 1896 instead of 1986, a typographical
error on my part, or a (PBHE) as we called this when my blogging all
began early in 2006. Another possibility if the hell-theory is wrong,
is that there is some total absolute MIND CONTROL SYSTEM being
employed, to keep so much as one person from ever desiring to contact
me and ask me person to person, just what this offer is all about,
since I assure you, as I have in the past before this over and over;
I want nothing illegal, and I want not so much as a penny. Yet any
one of you, if real, out there; has it within your power to make that
stock market go down 500 or more points a week for the next half year
or so, and by day trading and opening an account in your name, using
your computer, you can become a billionaire by shorting the DOW
INDEX, as when I am up, IT IS DOWN! If you do not know this ICPE-APE
deal by now, you really should drop off of this blog.
JUNE
24, 2014,
TUESDAY
MORNING, AT 6:55,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 73 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS STILL HOLDING 100%, and STICKY-YUK.
k
Since
I observed in 1982 that I do not ever seem to die and stay dead,
after dying from a fatal situation, and appear 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 more than two
hundred times now, will find myself waking up from where this entire
adult life was a crazy nightmare, and will find myself back in
Mildred's Young 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 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 40-50 years, that has played out somewhere around 210 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
breakout of this hell-cycle I have been in for more than 8000 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
down 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 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.
Morianity
has caused serious disruptions in the entire cosmos, fifth
dimensionally; that I would not begin to address on this blog of
today, and if none of the Milituforce attacks on me, beginning in
August of 1986, and really, since three years earlier, but in a
lesser intense way, had been done to me; there would be no MORIANITY.
This is the real time paradox that I used to call an
evental-time-warp, back in 1987, and would discuss this with my
friend, David Charles Roth, quite frequently. Neither one of us had
answers, but as time went along, our theories and our ideas became a
collection of concepts that the SYFY CHANNEL would have paid millions
of dollars to get their hands on it all if it ever had been reduced
into one book that contained all of this. Well let me get to the next
part of the lesson about the 3 types of exploratrons, also known as
dreamers, and move into why the advanced type or the T3E, can do
quite a bit more than just come awake and aware and even dominate
without being discovered as a controller, over their doubles in other
parallel realities in hyperspace, also called in the German
translation used quite frequently in accepted scientific circles,
their doppelgangers. Now let us say that you are standing at a
roulette wheel and are betting on BLACK or RED bets, trying to
winsome money in a casino, as was with the case with me so often, in
Atlantic City, New Jersey, through many a year. I would come to
observe that I could lose, not counting the green number edge that
the house (casino) has legally, but just with the otherwise 50-50
chance of betting on the two colors, with regularity, between 8 and
15 of these basically 50-50 chance bets. It is very hard to win or
lose between 8-15 times in a row, something that has a 50-50 chance.
Yet over and over, I would begin to log and record that year in and
year out, I would get these major losing streaks of between 8-15
straight losses. I would also record how many times I would have a
winning streak of anywhere between 8-15 winning bets, not including
when a player loses on the green roulette numbers of 0 or 00. Every
year for literally two decades, (20 years), I would get 2 or 3
winning streaks, but I would get an average with these years totaled
to make an average, of 36 losing streaks. Folks, this is a 12:1 ratio
of losing streaks to winning streaks, over a twenty year period,
averaged out annually. Twelve to one, and NOT COUNTING the green
house vig or edge, just the 50-50 chance bets themselves. Now here is
why the world governments are scared of all of my Morianity and me
and the forces around me to the point that they would do anything to
covertly make me vanish, but they don't dare, assassinate me, not yet
or so far, anyway my good people. Once a TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON (T3E)
becomes quite proficient at dominating their doppelgangers in
localized hyperspace; they then always use these doubles as starting
points to travel to these other parallel realms, and then they
MOVE-OFF-TARGET, (MOT). When they MOT, this means they begin to dream
with full awareness through a double of themselves, intentionally at
will in a parallel universe they have chosen to be in; and then they
wish to take their energy or dreaming essence or spirit essence;
words are so meaningless yet people have died over words so I try not
to say that too often; but now we have T3E who have traveled to
target, as they first must do, and then second, they MOT. The third
thing they do is ERNM, or Energetic Reattachment to New Matter. This
can be anything they see around them, or even, literally, and no pun
intended; ''DREAMED UP''. They can create in their mind a bunch of
little grays and a flying saucer. They can locate an empty field
where no one is around at pure thought-will, and do things such as
this, or literally anything. Now if these dreamers or T3E are from
another parallel world to ours, and have chosen this universe to come
and do this in, then it is us who will be effected. We all are awake
and have a mass existence, and need to expend our energies, moving
our massive bodies around; and all manner of other things that waking
world folks need to do. They on the other hand are pure energy or
dream-essence, and can think and will things into happening. They can
create totally weightless bodies that no weapon can injure, they can
fly like superman, and the list is as long as their imaginations. Is
this how I have managed to fly around here, from first going into a
localized parallel universe and creating a weightless spirit-body? If
you think long and hard about all of this, you should realize that
this is not possible. We can do many things as advanced
dream-travelers, due to the way hyperspace works, but defying those
regulations that make it all possible and cause it all to function as
it does, is against lawtronics, a dangerous thing to even attempt
doing, because it has the dire consequences to Astral Plane entities,
of turning parts of them into Phase-4-Entities, not born like normal
P3E are, but literally coming alive inside of the imaginations and
day-dreams and ideas and creations, of those already physically here
in bodies, awake and alive, so to speak, physically on this tangible
material plane of existence. When I move diner rotisseries or think
forward in water and move forward, this is not some dream body, it is
me, and if someone shot me, I would bleed nice and red for all the
sharks of the sea to come and grab a bite or two or three. Then there
are the human sharks as well, so please folks; don't
even get me started with those yesterday jerk offs, like Tracy
Ullman, and Chris 501 Blues Blum, great folks; and whoever/whatever
is really out here, right SSJKK-ISIS? SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!
Robin Hill Apartments
2011 Preston
Avenue, Voorhees, NJ, 08043
Home
>New Jersey
>Voorhees
Apartments >Robin Hill Apartments
Robin Hill Apartments, Mr. DS.
(7)
Apartment, 208 units 331 Preston Avenue Apt.2011, Voorhees NJ 08043 Map $989-$1279 1-2 Bed Cats OK
So
there I am playing roulette, in fact, living at 506 Robin Hill, just
follow the walk you see and turn right and walk into the court area
to the back and you can't miss the four unit system of which one of
them was unit #506. This is where I began noticing and keeping track
of these losing and winning streaks, so how does all of this fit
together, lady who writes about crazy cursing dudes for the
mighty WFMU RADIO?
Well, I'll tell you. Just grab some cat tail and hold on, Mr. GS.
What can I say here, my BRRRRRRRRRR?
So
there I am in the casinos, night after night; losing, losing ,
losing, losing. It took me quite a while to realize that I was being
stopped and cheated, NOT BY THE CASINOS, mind you. But by invisible
parallel universe dreamers who were there, ON MISSION, to keep me
down and out and broke for my entire lifetime no matter what I ever
try and do. Hay it is just a little white marble that has to drop
inside a little area eventually after the spin momentum reaches a
slow point where gravity wins out over the centrifugal force of the
spinning, and plop, in it goes, and you either make or lose 500
bucks. Well, when those 12:1 year in and year out ratios made me see
just what I was fighting, the ESS; as they could slide that ball into
the wrong slot over and over and over and over and over, and the odds
that for 20 years, these streaks did this to me, would be about one
chance in thirty-eight sextillion, for this to happen just randomly
as super super super ass bad luck! Then I realized they can get into
people, make them never help me, and always want to just mess with me
and hurt me. Now, if this is not HELL, then I am just asking you all,
tell me please, what the fucking shit is? Also, just why did the ESS
go on this mission to wipe out my life, after my experience in a
parallel universe back on August 15, 1986? Well, as I told Jimmy
Carter while hurling myself off of the Atlantic City boardwalk
railing; and I quote it word for word even after nearly thirty mother
fucking years, “I'm
dead Mister President”,
and as I went over onto the beach,still running down towards the dam
ass ocean, I cold hear him yell back at me, and again, I can quote,
“I know”. That's
what President Carter said to me in a parallel universe.
The
only chance I could have ever had,
if
some of this shit after Mildred B. Young, and class trips into
fucking Manhattan, are alterable; in some small ways here and there;
would be to piece together my LIFE JOURNAL on cassette tape in the
summer of 1986 times, and see just what caused this 153 day stay in
this
wild OTHER
ATLANTIC
CITY,
Mizz Harrah-Sarah Diction-knower!!!!
2006-2014 ©
MOUNTAINPEN
© MARK WAYNE MOHR
BLOGS, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 2014
Original five blogs:
On Blogger since
January 2006
Profile views –
2981
My 5 blogs:
Wolf
Wolf Wolf. I know three dogs that are blogging, but there may be more
out here. Here below is a great link to a super blog. This Dogtown
resident is having a blast vacationing on the Earth for a while.
Check it out.
YEAH HE'S SAYING,
“I LOVE YOU SARAH-STACEY KRASSLE, ALMIGHTY
TEEN-QUEEN”.
DALMATIANS, their true origin far from Earth, in Sahasra Dal Kanwal. Still, the link below takes you all to a really cool co-blogger of mine at BLOGGER, check it out. You will be glad you did, it is really a cool blog.
Well,
I
am going to crash for a few mother fucking hours,
kind folks. Hate
me all you want to if that makes you feel like big ass heroes,
YO!!!!!!!!!!! And to think I
would have done a Highlander on my cousins,
for these wonderful wet washcloths!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
formula that I told about absolutely mother fucking verifies that the
wild claims in Morianity are all real and true and accurate. One
mother fucking day, the world will see these truths, and probably
blow itself up as a goddamn result. Now ask me if I mother fucking
sive a shit, CUZZZZZ??????
Believe
it or naut, Mizz Blake, I have bigger fish to fry than any of this
stinking rotten bullshit.
JULY
1969
S.
M. T. W. T. F. S.
1
2 3 4 5-----WEEK
0---PEEKY RAPED ME UNDER AC CENTRAL PIER.
6
7 8 9 10 11 12----WEEK 1
13
14 15 16 17 18 19----WEEK 2
20
21 22 23 24 25 26----WEEK 3
27
28 29 30 31
YARRRRRRRRRRRRR,
me' goddamn buccaneers are underneath me' buckin' hat, and some
mother fucking dirt bag jerk off BLACK HAT COMPUTER HACKER, just
knocked my SPELLCHECKER Microsoft Program out. Boy oh boy oh boy,
Uncle Billy! MARCH
1970
S.
M. T. W. T. F. S.
1
2 3 4 5 6 7-------------WEEK 35
8
9 10 11 12 13 14------------WEEK 36
15
16 17 18 19 20 21------------WEEK 37
22
23 24 25 26 27
28------------WEEK 38
29
30 31
So
did Chillmo
TOM
REALE
really know about the prior year, under the pier; and was that
why he was so goddamn wacked-out with me, when he caught me getting
off that jitney bus, after the '70-AC fireworks, on Cornwall Avenue?
Or are other 'cornwalls' involved in this gigantic King David messy
old mix, yo? Who can ever know, great Copyright Office, breath echos
and mother fucking all, yo, huh Bob Andrews? I always thought you
made a great congressman, old buddy.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
rebooted my mother fucking hacked cum-puke-her, and got the cunt
chewing SpellCHECKER Program operating again, ALLIGATOR
HATERS
ANONYMOUS
TIMES 18! Another mother fucking WEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
Now
I will close out by telling you that mother fucking COMCAST CABLE is
playing another one of their games (GASME) with me, more fucking cunt
eating ELDER ABUSE, may I also add herein, yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!! It
has to do with that fucking shit I told on earlier blogs when
suddenly, the DVR feature just stopped working normally as it had
been since getting my service, and then after I found a way to make
it work again, simply by not changing stations before using it at
least once after a reboot, and now, for the past week, the sound on
my service is all fucked up on every station. However SHERIFF MASCARA
SIR, if I do not use the DVR feature, or after a reboot, I simply
change to another station which blocks out this feature for the gods
only know what mother fucking reason, the sound seems to have resumed
back to normal ops. As I said, this is abuse, and abuse on an elder,
because it is a hack and it is a game, and I am not buying it for a
goddamn pussy chewing fucking ass moment, me' kind sir, and
YARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This old
fucking buccaneer ain't buyin' into this, nor is he lighting up any
of Patty's scary chant candles for any mother fucking seances, yo! As
the old Esolph Fables would put it so wisely and eloquently, yo, “And
that's that”,
yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So here is what I am
going to do should I decide not to leave Florida this week with the
clothes on me' ol' fucking back, me' kind
Sheriff Ken J. Mascara, sir. I will have COMCAST
upgrade me to the DVR service, and put in their DVR cable
box, replacing the box I currently am mother fucking using, yo. It is
only an additional ten bucks monthly, and now they'll have no
mother fucking excuse to play their newest GASME-GAME
of the GODS
with poor old elderly fucking pathetic Mountainpen, YO YO YO
YO YO YO, SHERIFF, ME' KIND AWESOME SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
CUNT LAPPING BLOG ENDS HERE, YO!!!
MOUNTAINPEN DIED AND WENT TO HELL ON AUGUST 15, 1986, AND THIS WAS CONFIRMED IN A PARALLEL WORLD BY EX PRESIDENT JAMES EARL CARTER!
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