Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr
NUMDWATATES
NOTE F1
NUMDWATATES
NOTE F1
3:33
ANTE'
MERIDIAN
FRIDAY
MORNING
30
AUGUST, 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
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Mohr,
Mark W., 1954-
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PAu000501582
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1983
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To
access the first part of Morianity,
where to quote lovely 'Dark Shadows'
Mizz Sabrina Collins can be
absolutely and perfectly quoted here, “It all began”;
MERELY
CLICK THE LINKS, YO!
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SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,
the mighty Tellosian
Mental Manipulators
are at it again, causing
everyone forever
and perpetually
to hate
me
and attack
me,
and make my life here on the Earth-Planet, an endless, fiery, bloody,
nightmare fucking sick, diseased, and totally pathetic ass hell
(Dogtown). At
least the three day siege broke off, so whatever you may have done
Sheriff KJM, sir, THANK UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU, from here in northeast
Fort Pierce, to Sugar Hill, Harlem, New York, USA, ESMWG.
WEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! Things never change in the long run of course, and
we both know that is absolutely true for me, kind Sheriff, sir. So
yes, I
WAS SHOT
by some moron with a high powered damn rifle,
out of one of the windows of the Finistere
Apartments that day back in 1975,
coming home from Atlantic City after getting beaten up by my enemies
there, King, Callio, McGuire, and the gods only know who! I was shot
and killed. Or was I? Suddenly I am able to fly through the damn air.
Give me a break, who the hell can fly? Well, I can for starters. I
also can move objects such as diner rotisseries. This seems to
endlessly connect such things as aerial
shit, strobing lights and dreamed flashlights of many numerous sorts,
apartment complexes, and things from powerful fifth dimensional
connectiveness.
You would call that 'dreams' of course, and that is just fine, as I
know the real true shit that I am suffering through. I forgot of
course to add in the biggest ingredient in the shit soup here,
HELL!!!!!!
The mighty President J.E. Carter admitted that I indeed, HAD DIED,
and thus, I am now in DOGTOWN, also known as (AKA) HELL!!!!!!
First
off, and before continuing with the paragraph from above; I am going
to tell the world two
things,
or at least the
AAT Society
part of the world which are my
true important BLOGAUDIANS, no doubt,
yo! First thing is that if I am offline for a week or two, we all
know that some evil force has sent me a horrible storm to fuck with
me on this most horrendous year of my life since 1987 which was the
first full year of the true physical death of MWM in Cherry Hill, New
Jersey, and the casting into outer darkness or HELL, of the same MWM.
But secondly, if my apartment sustains MAJOR FUCKING DAMAGE from
thissssssssssssssss Atlantic Hurricane, I will do what I did ten
years ago when I saw the handwriting on the mother fucking wall for
me back in 2009. I will take the clothes on my back, and fill the car
with as much stuff that will fit; and I
will head back home to New Jersey.
I allowed the King family to chase me out of the only mother fucking
home that I ever had known.
If this damn ass storm causes severe damage, I
AM 'OUDDDDDDDAHELE',
Mister Harry Callas
Baseball Hyperspace!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
only event yesterday was late last night when my COMCAST
CABLE FROZE UP AGAIN
for a short time, and the screens said that they were having some
troubles, but within a few minutes, things resumed and just as they
are many times, ran slow and responded to remote-commands much slower
than they should. I
plan to switch to ANTENNA-TV later on this year,
whether from here or from Jersey should I go back there and start
over in life, A-G-A-I-N!!!!!!!!!! At least I won't keep getting these
annoying fucking outages. One channel here and there may indeed have
somne difficulty or be hacked or whatever, but the entire network
won't jkeep going down on me over an dover on a monthly dependable
basis; FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION and BOARD OF PUBLIC
UTILITIES, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!
Before
I got up for the day, I again experienced major unpleasant
nightmares. I was at the Cherry Hill Mall in New Jersey. With me was
some weirdo mechanic and my car had been giving me some problems, and
when he arrived it was working okay, but for some reason we decided
to go to my residence, which was 1802 Robin Hill Apartments. When we
got there, this wild dude began insisting that I put him in touch
with my old teen pal, Brad Messenger. I told him that I had not seen
him since the autumn of 1969 when I rode my bicycle over to the
Stuyvesant House Apartments where he had moved into with his mom,
Grace Messenger. Numerous things got said as well as happened that I
do not feel comfortable blogging about right now. Suddenly I realized
that my wallet was not with me in my pants pocket and I grew anxious
and up set. This dude then said to me, “I am not concerned about
your wallet, only my wallet”. Why he said it, I do not remember,
only that this was his response after I had realized that my wallet
was missing, and wished to drive back to where we had been outside of
some store at the mall, in case it was somehow still there.
Nightmares where I have lost something are beyond horrible. I suppose
this
is because my MILITUFORCE
enemies
have caused me to lose so much
in life, EVEN
MY OWN GODDAMN FUCKING DAUGHTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh boy and oh well, ann King; here comes the mother fucking
trustworthy (`~HACK)
again,
which never ever goes completely away, you know, it just CONTINUES
AND
CONTINUES
AND
CONTINUES
AND
CONTINUES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mizz
fucking Sleazeweedsdisease just TRIED TO GET AT ME, but HA-HA-HA, she
fucking cunt couldn't do it to me on this blog, the miserable rotten
witch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
I do not yet understand why I am back on this early 3rd
-millennium roll for being back at these various apartment complexes
from my past, in my dreams at night, almost every single fucking
night, BUT
IT IS SUFFICIENT TO SAY, IT IS INDEED OCCURRING,
and to quote from Esolph's Fables, “That's
that”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, what other person can stretch forth his or her hands out and
will themselves to move forward, through air and or water? I know of
only one other person and HE
also is from my Huntington family lineage.
Still, the coincidental synchronicity of James Redfield cannot be
ignored here from late
in the nineteen-eighties,
when I was sent to work at a security post from my car, while renting
that little rinkydink Moorestown, New Jersey dollhouse, from that
landlord and real estate investor named Mister Jim Wilson; at the
Philadelphia
intersection
of Walker
and Water
Streets, right underneath the Interstate-95 Highway, in South
Philadelphia for Crissake, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo, speaking of being
able to walk
on water,
oh Lord Jesus for Sahasra Dal Kanwal's sake!!!!!!!!! I stopped
believing in the randomness of happenstance coincidence a very long
time ago, right after Jim Burr could be quoted to me quite often as
saying, “Mark,
you and I cannot afford the luxury of believing in coincidence”.
I think that he was 100 mother fucking percent correct, people. I
feel like throwing in thissssssssssssssss as well;
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!
No-sir,
I do simply don't believe in the randomness of strobing Raynard Run
or 13-600 strobelights, nor do I believe in dreams just randomly
happening either. I don't believe in the randomness of things
continuing to be endlessly destructive around me for an entire
65-year lifetime. I do not believe in the randomness of a zillion
other things that happened to me, especially in or in things
pertaining to, Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG. I do not believe
in the randomness of weird changing garden type apartment names,
dreams of New York relatives coming to Gloucester and screaming out
“SHARK-SHARK-SHARK”, and literally a fucking zillion other things
that I refuse to go on an don wasting anyone's time with since
obviously my point is more than made here, unless you're a moron who
just wants to laugh and be controlled by the 'Tellosians' of HALLS
FAWCES. WOW-THAT big-O!
Hyperspace
Mechanics as Morianity calls it, is quite complicated, and to explore
it all would obviously require computers the size of galaxies.
Without trying to approach all angles, I am saying that realities
split off for all of us at certain points, because all of reality
rides a photon wave. If this were not true, reality could not be
scanned, spliced, and altered, and it most definitely is, all the
time. There was one really great place for me where I had Starburn,
where I was happy, and where there was an ESS entity who admitted to
me that all the other bad locales in the hyperspace is all one big
horrible nightmare hell. It is of course no way that simple, and
things will be harped on individually on many following texts and
blog works. I was walking through that apartment complex mad at the
world after being assaulted in Atlantic City by those beach patrol
mascots, and I cursed out the Lord, and then POW, some idiot shot me
dead before I could repent. I died Christless,
and this is the penalty, ETERNAL
HELL. So
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and an ultimate gasping sound that would take about a quadrillion
letters and zillions of imaginary fucking pages. Still, I did visit
this true existence that once was my life, at least, in my humble
opinion (INHO). This of course caused my spirit to tumble immediately
into a much darker and deeper abyss than I was in before, not that
this was any day at the beach, and again, my days at the beach with
Paula King blaring out from her damn radio station, teasing and
taunting records at me, was no slice of ambrosia cake from
quintessential deliciousness. Yes, I misspelled Paula, somehow the
“A” did not come out on the last blog, and no, I didn't mean to
type in the name of Paul King, it is and always was and will be, the
great GODDESS PAULA KING PAU000501582.
Yes,
bob McDowell did indeed grow up into a fine gentleman,
and as you put it so eloquently, Mister Mackey, back in late 1972, in
your classroom; ''a man''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Makes
me wonder what you knew back then as well,
along with hallway
communicator Marcucci and his Beatles friends,
and Marola
and her school play insistence wisdom.
Don't even get me started, Misses Eckert Pharmacy, back on 7/12; on
the topic of EXPLORATRONS,
PLEASE!
TANKS!!!
No
Terry, Morianity is not making it up as it goes along, but like all
great items in this cosmos sweetie pie, things do continue to improve
and become more perfect with endless trial and error. Things
really do CONTINUE AND CONTINUE AND CONTINUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Frankly
Congressman RA, I don't even care. All we can try is to live and to
die, with love for each other to share.
MOVING
TOWARDS THE 15 YEAR
BUT
NOT REALLY CHAPTER 8
As
said back in the days of that chapter and book on my blogs, to be
completely honest, lads and lassies; it is beyond surreal and weird,
times three billion; to know all the stuff I know, again,
that Microsucks Light-Bulb-Hack will pop on, the second I begin the
actual blog information,
and not just the opening part with lines and opening phrases. It
never lets me down, unfortunately. But I also know the other stuff
that I mentioned before, and won't insult you by wasting your time
rehashing this mother fucking shit. Yes sir, Russian hackers are
alive and well at my mouse, boy oh boy!!!!! But are they really
Russian hackers? Physically perhaps they are, maybe they aren't, but
in neither case, is it really them. No
human being on this planet is under their own control, and only a
very few fucking gamers know this truth,
and are most likely intelligent enough to keep quiet, so their lives
don't get thrown into clit lapping hell times infinity.
Oh
Lordess Sarah Krassle;
some of the things that I say are major, and us, great United States
Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) for short abbreviation, only
one lie was ever told on all of my MORIANITY,
and I had no idea that my information about what I was telling, was
faulty, so it
really was only a partial lie.
Unlike the great childhood days of
Quakertown, Pennsylvania, USA, some things are weird times a billion, and then comes a decade later as a teenager, and things quickly escalate into weird times a septillion. Yes folks, only one half of a lie directly, and all the rest was totally true.
Quakertown, Pennsylvania, USA, some things are weird times a billion, and then comes a decade later as a teenager, and things quickly escalate into weird times a septillion. Yes folks, only one half of a lie directly, and all the rest was totally true.
Then
right around this same time, came the dead
children who spoke to me
at those Quakertown and Allentown area playgrounds, back early in the
nineteen-sixties. Yes there were two different ones, with the little
boy my age, and the little girl my age. Now people, I
am the only person on this planet, that would DARE LOOK A SUPREME
COURT JUDGE, STRAIGHT IN THE FACE; AND
TELL THEM under pain of penalty if indeed they can prove me lying to
them; that my entire story called MORIANITY,
over a now just less than 8.5 year time period; is all totally 100%
true and accurate, other than for the one lie I admit that I told
that Sarah was there that night with her great gang, on that public
bus at around 10:30 PM, the night of 12 July, back in the year 1970.
I now make this pledge and oath and swear officially on this writing,
to this statement, to all nine Supreme Court Justices, and if you can
prove I am a fake or a phony hoaxer, then I WANT YOU TO THROW MY
MISERABLE WORTHLESS ******* *** IN CUNT LAPPING PRISON, as that is
where I would belong!!!!!
Note:
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county due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the
alert and the map processing.
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Beautiful
Katharine
the Great
White Shark;
how are you doing tonight, big lovely girl?
You
see, AWAKE,
it would not make sense for a bunch of powerful people to care more
about hurting me, than being with their own families who they must
love in some sick diseased perverted way. But when you see things in
the new light of EXPLORATRONICS, hay we all have to sleep, so they
simply have found a way to make sleep-time become extremely
productive, and for that, we all do in fact, need to give these rat
hole scum suckers a great big fucking gold star!!!!!!!! Things
are a bit more complicated than just my old idea and version of
EXPLORATRONICS,
and the great ESS (EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY)!
Time now to introduce the two point oh version, kind
folks,
or just whatever/whoever
Kirk,
is really
'out there'!
Religious/spiritual “possession”,
or TYPE-3
EXPLORARONS,
doing Patty
Hollister sleep control in
one methodology or another; be it with her
magical FASCITAR
or other ways, no matter how you pick up this bottle of deadly
serpent venom kind peeps out here, it spells out the never ending
human races questions and queries of just who are we, and why do we
sleep, and also, why do we act the way that we do when many times we
all know that we don't understand our actions at all, after later
sitting in our peaceful dens or wherever and reflecting on the
crapola of the day! Whoever you are reading this, you know I'm
telling you the gods honest mother fucking truth!!!
'BUT',
whatever you or I ever do; SARAH
KRASSLE
knows
every single thing about it. Count on THAT folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, all the mysteriousness of **** is gone, when you put on your new
exploratronic
glasses.
Even unexplainable things like KABOOM,
Mister Clancy and
Mister
David
Leigh Smith, back
in the autumn of 1970,
at Haddonfield,
New Jersey,
in
the Cooley Hall;
Sir
ROTTENBERRY ROCKDROID LURCH,
PROGRAMMING OVERRIDER, SIR; YES EVEN THAT, and much more, is all
simple truths, but do we have them all yet, now or on that bus with
Paula King and her great mighty friends, on the late night of July
the damn twelfth, of 1970, on Arkansas Avenue, in Atlantic City, New
Jersey, USA? What would the great shoe knocker outer say here AKA
Frank-Chester; but a resounding damn WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?
Let me say on the other hand, WOW!
The
problem is folks, that this is not one bit funnier than what happened
on a road trip up to my relative's place in mighty fallen Babylon, in
New York, in the great U. S. A. What I witnessed would make DCF or
the Jersey Dyfis folks blush,
but there is always the Sigmund Malyeska way of overcoming bad shit
that
we witness, and that is to laugh hard and raucously. No
wonder the entire damn Huntington family is total damn looney birds,
with all the hell that we suffer through!!!!!!!!!! No peeps, I do not
believe so much anymore in a human caporial flesh club of
dream-travelers, hey there may be a group like this, and well
organized and super secret, you know like the Masons or the
Illuminati, or the Rosicrucian's, and so forth. Still and all, what I
believe in is the “NUCLATRON”
as I've come to term and label it, church folks would do well to just
keep saying “GOD”!!!!!!!!!!
God and all of her offspring children. Nuke scientists know what I am
talking about. The entire intelligent program seems to be there just
to eventually spit out the lighter and incredible element called
CARBON. This is so the NUKES can dream here physically, as us, and
hey, who
else Mister D. Childress sir???
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MCNULTY!!!!!
Yes
I doubt that humans are putting anything together or for that matter
could care less about this incredible family that
went from Carpenter to Stuart to Huntington,
and then after my moms mom, we broke on this line into the Masons,
and
then my mom married dear old lovely Dad,
the treasure 'hunter', Mister Wayne Landis Mohr. And I thought I had
some wild Huntington side cousins. WO. Billy Harner, to quote you
down in your basement so many times, and
I'll throw in a little 'WEEEEEEE'!
From
roaches, to people, to a zillion other things; just why do things
happen as they do lads and lassies? Happenstance, coincidence, sure,
believe that and they stupid, legs and all oh great L&O peeps!
You believe that lie and you are really in the 65 and under
intelligence quotient club, YO!!!!!!!! Suddenly all over the entire
mother fucking apartment here, out of nowhere, a swarm of clit
huffing nasty dirt bag germ ridden cock roaches. Or someone loves an
idea I have and tells me to get back to them at such and such a time,
and then POW, it is as if I had awakened into some totally mother
fucking parallel universe!!!!!!!!!! No folks, you believe what gets
you all through the dark lonely sick demented long rotten nights, but
give me gol-darn reality every time. Without reality, you me, we're
nothing. Let me prove it to you in a short couple of dam sentences.
You win the damn Powerball Lottery and after taxes you're worth a
half of a billion bucks. Ten minutes later a brain tumor causes you
to barely know who you are and you live with this for the next thirty
or so years until you freaking die. So what good is all the money.
I'd
rather be dirt poor and totally miserable and at least have my damn
REALITY, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THERE
IS NO WAY TOM
REALE IN JULY OF 1970 WOULD HAVE BEEN THAT UPSET THAT NIGHT OF THE
FIREWORKS,
IF HE WAS NOT ALL PART OF WHAT HAPPENED THE YEAR BEFORE THAT, AND WAS
NOT ALSO A MEMBER OF THE GREAT AND MOTHER FUCKING ALMIGHTY ALL
POWERFUL EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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A
few simple points will be addresses, now that we are in the
advanced part of the Exploratronic Supermind Society stuff, lads
and lassies.
MORIANITY
FOR MILLENNIUM 3
>>>>ESS
FROM GENESIS TO ADVANCED
CHAPTER
05
SSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOO,
IT IS ON WITH SHOW CALLIO AND OTHERS. FIRST, 1N 1988 DAVID CHARLES
ROTH AND I HAD A TALK AND HE USED TO SAY I SHOOT IN THE DARK AT
TOO MANY INNOCENT TARGETS. FOLKS, IF I HAD A ROOM THE SIZE OF TEN
FOOTBAL STADIUMS AND IT WAS PITCH BLACK, AND ALL MY ENEMIES WERE
IN THERE, EVERY SINGLE ONE, ALONG WITH THREE TIMES AS MANY OTHER
PEOPLE, AND I HAD AN ENDLESSLY FIRING RIFLE; I WOULD BE LYING TO
YOU IF I SAID THAT I WOULD NOT SHOOT AND SHOOT AND SHOOT, UNTIL
EVERY LAST SCREAM, WHIMPER AND SOUNDS WAS TOTALLY EXTINGUISHED.
Every
stinking thing that they have put me through, all totaled up since
I was born or shortly thereafter, lads an d lassies; makes
everything I did as Adolf Hitler, all put together, appear tame,
and if you lean backward in utter shock; that is only because you
do not have a clue what I have been forced to endure for thirty
years.
You
may think that you know it all about me, if you have read every
fucking page I ever wrote, both on this blog and the other
archived blogs; only you are as clueless as Kim Wild's American
Kids, I promise!
That
mother fucking poltergeist did me a big favor making that thing I
used to block the Fonda-Ones-Attacks on this conputer, vanish. Now
I have one permanently affixed while I blog, to both sides of the
lower screen, no more seeing fucking cunt eating eleven and one of
the clock times or page eleven attacks, unless like a total dumb
fucking ass, I forget, as I did while blogging on the previous
chapter, and left them off the screen.
Now
mind is mind, and channels down into lower dimensions through
biological brains or mechanical mind machines. Enough mind can
creat a sentient awareness. Connect a robotic body to the super
computer with the ability to sense its environment, and this two
year old child simulation, will grow in thinking ability as well
as become aware, sentient, and even emotional. It is all a matter
of enough power to create enough mind, and then a good enough
robotic body to create emotion. Simply put, the Mister Data shit
of Star Trek TNG is a load of horse shit. Build an android that
good, and it will indeed develop a human type of consciousness, in
similar ways that a two year old human child, grows up. But
imagine if a super computer begins to exist where all of us merge
into it as one, being able to think separately as well as
collectively, like a PC or tablet or phone today, capable of
remaining private and not connected to anything, as well as
connect up to the entire system. You cannot put that kind of
computer into an android body. There would indeed be sufficient
awareness to make a real GOD of a mind, but no body. With no body,
this mind, far greater than ours, will dream, as in the electric
sheep example from more than a decade ago that most of you have
known and heard of. . So now we would have this great fantastic
BRAIN, all of us and this super computer mind, inside what many
geeky teckies would call a CLOUD. This cloud would have no body,
and it would dream as well as be awake. When dreaming, it would
look for a body, or so one might think. This could be where, in
each advancing parallel universe, and ours as well, begins to have
a SUPERMIND SOCIETY, of exploring minds, only this ESS is really
the ESS-CLOUD. My pernt here today Mister Archibald Bunker Queens
is quite simple. This is another altenative theory for the case of
the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY (ESS).
One
thing I know for sure, regarding myself. I have had recurring
dreams all my life, about SCHOOLS AND INSTITUTES. . The long and
short of it is that I have several things where I do indeed have
recurring and serial type of nocturnal awareness's about. The
thinking machine, brain, computer, cloud, mixture, or whatever
Congressman; is always going to think. When you have a body or
physical shell in one universe, switch consciousness and tune a
cosmic mind radio dial of a sort, over to another station of
reality, or move over in hyperspace to a parallel reality
(universe), then this is going to allow you to operate
differently. However, many feel that no normal human mind, even an
advanced human in the near future, can do all of this. Well, then
you can switch your concepts of the ESS to a MIND CLOUD, from
where a great thinking machine, when tuned to other areas of
hyperspace beyond its physical shell and hardware, then it can
indeed indwell and influence people, animals, machines, weather,
or whatever you might imagine it doing, when it becomes
ESS-OPERATIONAL! Nothing has to be written in stone, kind folks.
All I am saying, is somewhere, this truth is all there, to explain
away why we live here as humans on this planet, why things are
what they are, and why there is so much weird unexplainable
fucking crap as well.
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I
HAVE HAD SOME BETTER FUCKING WEEKEDS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. MAJOR
DAMAGE TO MY VIDEO EQUIPMENT OCURRED FOR NO GOOD FUCKING REASON AND
MORE REPAIRS ARE NEEDED, AND NEVER IN TH EHISTORY OF MY HELL OF 30
CUNT CHEWING MOTHER FUCKING YEARS HAVE I NOT BEEN ABLE TO WATCH MY
VIDEO OVER THIS KIND OF AN EXTENED ATTACK OF INTERRUPTIONS. THIS IS A
VERY FUCKING POWERFUL DEMONIC SATANIC CUNT EATINBG ATTACK, YET
THROUGH IT ALL, MY DAD'S BOURBON ROULETTE SYSTEM IS KICKING LIVING
HOT SHIT ASS SQUARED, HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!
Property
fucking damage does wonders for the cunt chewing stock market, it
would be up at least 200 on Tuesday, Monday it should be shut for the
Labor Day Holiday-Helliday, YO.
It will be up to record highs this week, I CUNT CHEWING 'FUCKIGN'
PROMISE YOU ALL THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have a different repair shop now, and no longer deal with that butt
wipe from down south of me. This is all I am free to say, until I
figure out just what and who is fucking up my video life now for
months and months, like nothing before ever, in total cunt chewing
violation of my civil rights, AG Bondi, ma'am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
SEPTEMBER
1, 2014,
MONDAY
MORNING AT 12:23,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 77 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 96%, AND IT FEELS 83 DEGREES.
WAKE
ME UP ON THE FIRST OF NEXT MONTH, EW!!!!
OKAY,
Mister Happy John King? Must I weelwee fucking use that beach-hose in
early September of 1996 after I park at your King
David Hotel Parking Lot in Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG,
sir? Must I weelwee weelwee weelwee yo????????? Or is there some
powerful connection wit hoses, pipes, water, strobing lights, toy
flashlights, apartment complexes, and NIGHTMARES
ON STEROIDS
every
damn ass night; Sir Prosecutor Richie????????????????
From here to Sag Harbor, New York, THERE
TRULY MUST BE A CODE BREAKING BOOK SOME PLACE
that tells these things nice and clear and right out in the damn ass
open for crissake, yo yo yo BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still I don't
wanna'; fucking fall into the horse trough or be forced to sing
several bars of “How
dry I am”,
Mister Herman Gwyn Munster Fred! I mean, the real code cracking here,
is in the 'dry throats' and 'wild Atco nightmares', OF ALL TYPES; HUH
CAMDEN COUNTY PROSECUTOR WIRTZ,SENIOR
OF 1990??????????? The 'L&O' Mister Stone and Mister Schiff, are
only shadow
reflections
of my past while
living at 1102 Robin Hill Apartments,
my third and final tenure in thissssssssssssssss awesome
locale!!!!!!!!!!
Scream it to me, Mizz AMC-SLEK (Susan Lucci Erica Kane). Another
great WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
for the illustrious Mister Chester-Frank,
from the early summer time in the Marola-year
of 2000!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW to all Cooley High Hell Halls everywhere, huh gorgeous Oprah
Winfrey, yo???????????? Let us now see if Cosmind & Dorian want
me to go back to New Jersey next week!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
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