NUMDWATATES
NOTE U2
6:47
ANTE'
MERIDIAN
SUNDAY
MORNING
13
OCTOBER, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
Mountainpen's
LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:
SUNDAY,
OCTOBER 13, 2019
CURRENT
PHASE IS: FULL MOON
N.M.
WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6 WXG7
F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6 WNG7
L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 N.M.
The
BLACK HAT HACKING SCMBAG MOTHER FUCKERS RIGHT
AWAY ARE HACKING ME SHERIFF MASCARA, AS SOON AS I BEGIN BLOGGING.
My fucking Spellchecker was hacked off and I had to go off and reboot
my system up AGAIN. The other UTILITY STRIKE was shortly past seven
last evening, with another COMCAST HACK SERVICE INTERRUPTION, that
knocked off the ME-CHANNEL for ten minutes or so, and later on it was
broadcasting again, BRO! This is now TWO STRIKES before the light of
day, so it counts on the same day as SATURDAY, which is almost but
not quite fucking BOTBAR after two more HITS ON ME, and NASTY FUCKING
ILLEGAL ELDER ABUSE, 'NOT ABSUE', GASME
GODS GAMERS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!! Despite this siege from the TV last
night, I picked up +2 units on my HPR (Hypothetical Paper Roulette),
HA-HA-HA, Curse-Creators of the mighty mother fucking GASME-GAMER
ASTRAL-PLANE GODS & GODDESSES or (Coins & coils), so a great
big fucking ass goddamn “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”, for Sir
CHESTER-FRANK, who most 'definitely' knows who is is, placing him
well ahead of most “normal people”, am I right, Sir 1969 Grant
O'Neil, of the illustrious COOLEY HHH?
It
was 1976, the great bicentennial year, I was living at the Carriage
Lamp Apartments, that be somewhat name altered by way of
Redfield-Synchronicity, and future dream-visions, from the great year
of 2008; and I was minding my own business trying to watch a
wonderful comedy television show, the Carol Burnett Show, speaking of
the TV-HACK from just past seven last fucking cunt evening on the
NE-TV-CHANNEL, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Suddenly my 'peace' was quite
rudely fucking interrupted by an extremely 'annoying neighbor' from
several units down from my unit at this wovwee garden type apartment
complex where I was renting and allowing my father to live there with
me. My TV show changed from being lovely Carol Burnett, to hearing
super loud overriding audio signals from this dirt bag's illegal
high-powered citizens band radio system. Later when I tried to get it
stopped, he was using some wild terminology about 'Christmas
presents coming to my door', still present and very loud
over my (little non-Brittney Speers TV-SET),
and later saying some really wild shit about 'magic-mushrooms'.
This has all been previously blogged during the first three years of
the Blogs Of Mountainpen, or the 'BOM' for a shortened abbreviation,
yo. I cannot give all the detailed shit I truly and verily wish to
here folks, or I would be all the way across the red line zone into
the total maximum 8th star!!!!!!!!!!!!!! To quote lovely,
talented, wonderful, and great Mizz Diana Ross
of Motown and later on RCA, “I don't
need this, no how, no nothing”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What I
will say that my pal, the hubby of a psychic friend from a Woodbury
Psychic Institute from back in those seventies, days, Mister
Bill Marnie, told me that these 'CB' expressions were 'CODES',
and not to take them as personal threats against me, but that was not
the threat, not what was said, as this was merely the Astral-Plane
gamer-gods working inside of this 'rotten neighbor' to make him annoy
me, as so many have done, and still continue to do to me to this very
vely day, Sheriff Ken Mascara, kind sir; and what the threat actually
was, is the very UTILITY AND ELECTRONIC
HARASSMENT AND PERSECUTION by itself, and the actual effects on me
and my life, taking away from me, endlessly and forever and to this
very vely day, FCC; my peace of mind,
and so along comes AGENTS Condor and Falcon back on that 1988
television documentary about UFO's, and
goes into great details and lengths to discuss what happens to those
people who piss off the Milituforce by taking pictures, or getting
too much evidence of their so-called existence. I merely draw
conclusions and make points, and I cannot prove one single solitary
mother fuckign thing, Sheriff, but I know that WE BOTH KNOW
ABSOLUTELY, that you know, that I am being intentionally persecuted,
and covertly destroyed; JUST AS I CLAIM THAT I
AM ALL ALONG, SIR!!!!!!!!!! The “giant Williamstown police
officer from 1994, who I think might be Mister James Comey of the FBI
now; told me in my Highview apartment one day in the early summer or
end of spring time somewhere, “Mister mohr I don't believe your
story BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO BELIEVE that my country could do such
things to you”. Hay bud, don't ever get cancer, and then apply that
attitude, yo. You know, as in, “Gee, I don't want to believe that I
have this awful fucking thing, so hey man, I don't, and I won't seek
any medical treatment”. Yeah, makes lots of sense, huh? But moving
my point along from the CB magic mushroom annoying neighbor at the
Clementon apartment complex called then, the Carriage Lamp
Apartments; skipping about three hundred smaller incidents of similar
peace killing efforts applied against me by this covert black
operations MILITUFORCE, the next HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE assault
on me was while I was residing at Jim wilson's little dollhouse
shithole on Central Avenue West, in Moorestown, New Jersey in 1988
and into 1989. Again, this has been told and blogged about more than
once before, and in some elaborated detail for all to hear about. The
phones were taken over by the local fire company, and all I could get
on my phone was some shit ass stupid “Code 2, Code 2, munikay
munikay, code 2”, damn ass dogshit, when I needed to use my legally
paid for LANDLINE TELEPHONE SERVICE! The
copyright Office has the tape of this day from 1988 somewhere, to
this very hour and day, with or without 'my car being beamed over to
Philadelphia'. You would say come perdy dern fucking nutty things
too, all of you, if SOME ROTTEN DISEASED PRICK WAS PUTTING YOU
THROUGH THIS ENDLESS HELL, TOO, I PROMISE YOU ALL THAT!!!!!!!!!! Then
came the day at the Somerdale DEATH-HOUSE when Mister Fred Winstein
and I were attempting to do a computer search at my home, on the
mighty and frightening ATLANTIC CITY CALLIO FAMILY!!!!!!!!!!! This
was back in the summer time somewhere in 1997, causing my spirit to
go all the way back to my high school and back to the year 1968, in
some parallel alternate dimensional reality, with a magical shoebox
(tablet) in my Saturn Automobile, that a bunch of Cannon's fucking
thugs stole from me, a year after he fucked up me' ol' hubcap outside
of the psychic shop called, The Gathering Place. Suddenly, the phone
service went out, then the electricity all over the house, and then
the computer began to stay on with no battery back up system, and
like total fucking HOLLISTER-MAGIC ON
STEROIDS, a message or really, A
DEATH THREAT appeared suddenly on my mother fucking computer monitor
screen, telling me in no uncertain terms to back
off of my search for answers regarding these people in ATLANTIC CITY,
NEW FUCKING ASS JERSEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The phone ran the computer,
the electricity was separate from the phone and not all connected in
the way that most services are done today in the 21st
century, and to be able to pull that large fucking demonic miracle
off, would require A WHOLE LOT OF SUPERNATUIURAL PARANORMAL FUCKING
POWER, ALONG WITH GOVERNMENTAL AND BIG-BIZZ POWER TO
BOOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But still, me' whittle ass point, is that
UTILITY PERSECUTIONS ON ME, are most
definitely a fucking HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE part
of the Milituforce harassment's used on me ever since 1986 when this
all got really going BIG HUGE HYPER TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
People,
and Sheriff Mascara, and Federal Bureau of investigation, and others
out here in the AAT Society; if I can somehow
miraculously manage to mother fucking survive until my 66th
birthday comes on December 4th
of 2020, and when my DISABILITY benefits automatically become
transferred into Social-security-bennies; I
then came leave here and MOVE TO SOUTH AMERICA, away from this
MONSTROUS FUCKING ENDLESS OPPRESSION AND PERSECUTION. The
mother fucking JEWS, never ever were persecuted as badly as this
poor pathetic pitiful CHOSEN C-H-U-R-C-H HUNTINGTON victim is being
endlessly roasted, pummeled, and killed in the fires of
DOGTOWN-ON-EARTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jane
Whore Fonda GOT ME AGAIN, PEOPLE!
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No
matter how hard I try, seeing these groupations of mother fucking
ONE-DIGITS, is getting on my mother fucking
cunt huffing nerves, to the point where I am ready to do
things NAUT-BLOGGABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
These
sicko rotten Astral-Plane gods, literally BECOME US, and as my
interesting associate over at the Griffin Pipe Company of Florence
Township, New Jersey put it back in the early part of the year of
2004, over at my Guard-Shack, by the point of view of these Olympian
gods, “Coming here and doing this, is
thought of as GOING ON VACATION”. His words, NAUT MINE,
folks, yo!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, it is one HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE GAME or put
more appropriately in conjunction with my BLOGS, it is their
'ULTIMATE GASME GAME'!
Yes,
this indeed is one big huge game of the gods, and it in all truth
people, is just as if we combined football, D&D, Packman,
Monopoly, Chess, and Twister, and so many other greats, because THEY
really are US, only we are not humanly aware of that powerful
knowledge nor do we have any waking-world memories beyond that of
perhaps some weird jumbled up wild occasional dreams that seem to
make no sense at all unless your name happens to be Mamaspizzaface or
Tobycouch. We go about our lives and many times we play many games,
some enjoying them a lot more than others, counting Mountainpen as
amongst the not enjoying so much groupation. Yes people, every
fucking conceivable game played here on the waking world Earth-Planet
is actually being played and 'enjoyed' by 'vacationing' Astral Gods
(coins and coils) who dream down into the 5th dimensional
hyperspace here-and-now as human beings, with physical bodies, and
with only some extremely limited memories of anything that is
humanly called, “their conscious mind”! Since they don't want to
remember more, peeps like me are their MORTAL ENEMIES to some degree.
This ain't a super pleasant fucking thought; but I need to have
reality, be it pleasant, or rotten to the damn-ass
core!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I cannot live in a fake phony bullshit
condition of existence. This is one reason that I remember countless
zillions of eons while living here physically. Why deny the horrible
truth of forever-ness if we're all stuck in eternity, and believe me,
WE ARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ask the great Doctor Chockra, or however he
spells his name. He just maintains a great positive mental attitude
about endlessness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'll bet however that if he
truly remembered it now, consciously, he would NAUT!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION!
NUMDWATATES
NOTE T2
3:07
ANTE'
MERIDIAN
SATURDAY
MORNING
12
OCTOBER, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
I've
been so fucked up with all this death persecution people, that I made
some errors on this moon-phase system recently, but I have corrected
them now, yo. Sahwee, yo!!!!!!!!!!
Mountainpen's
LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:
SATURDAY,
OCTOBER 12, 2019
CURRENT
PHASE IS: WAXING GIBBOUS 7:7
N.M.
WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6 WXG7
F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6 WNG7 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5
N.M.
On
the TV from yesterday, Friday, Mister Cialoni,
as now it really is Saturday whether or NAUT you went home and to bed
and got up again, yo; on the great MANNIX
show starring that old era teen idol Mister
Mike Conners, he said a powerful thing that needs to be
mentioned on this blog today, after this still fucking cunt ongoing
monstrous five day and still counting,
BOTBAR DEATH SIEGE AND ASSAULT on
pathetic and pitiful non-Ronstadt me. He said “Never
is the longest word in the English language”. We have 14
letter words like transportation and 16
letter words such as transdimensional,
BUT that trusty little word, so far as letter counting goes, of
“NEVER”
is very mother fucking powerful, and to me, it carries way more
weight than it does for anyone up here on the net reading these
words. I know what a curse that can NEVER be
broken feels like, and it is, to quote the latengrate
Mister David Charles Roth, or a close paraphrase from some very
depressing words spoken by him very late in the nineteen-eighties,
that went along the lines of, things have
become so bad for us that we just want to climb out of bed in the
morning, and plain simply die.
It is an extremely close quotation, IPYT, peeps, truly and verily I
mother fucking do!!! Not that one single solitary soul gives a rotten
stinking turd eating crap at light speed squared, but hey, I'm still
saying it, without any thrills, joys,
or Mike Crichton Disney employees whatsoever,
BRAHHHH!!!!
Lightning has told
me that my mother likes my jokes, lame as they seem to be, because
she has to, as after-all, she is my mother. Diana on the other hand
tells me that I need to soak my rotten jokes in honey and vinegar and
maybe, just maybe, they might sweeten up, or just go away completely
which will be a blessing. She of course loves to giggle in that
little eight year old girl voice that she gets when she giggles, and
the entire United States Copyright © Office has some tapes that back
up my wild claims. Still, what do you call the
fish who is NAUT innocent of refusing his morning coffee? Give
up? Gill Tea. WHAAAAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA,
MISTER MIKE 1971 MCNULTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My
FAST AGAIN BOOSTER SYSTEM fucked
up and “stopped working” again, when
I first mother fucking booted up this CUM-PUKE-HER
(computer), to do this rotten ass early MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING
BLOG! To quote Law & Order's Mister Anderton and NY COUNTY DA,
Mister Adam Schiff, “pitiful” and I do mean mother fucking
PITIFUL!!!!!!!! It must be an awful thing that is beyond being
inconceivable incomprehensible to me, even
though I personally hate my entire family with a major fucking
passion, to literally have only one thing on their mind, day
in and day out, decade after decade after decade after decade,
and that being concentrating on one little
pitiful special ed-kid, me, Mountainpen, and fixating all of
their energy on this one thing, rather than caring about spending any
real quality mother fucking time with their so-called
loved ones, giggle-giggle-giggle,
huh lovely DIANA ZUUDLECRONESSIA ARTEEMIS
of the great PURGATORY or (Astral-Plane)????????
The
day before yesterday on BOTBAR DAY TIMES 4 OR (BOT-X-4) as I used to
abbreviate this to back before late 1997's summer before I threw away
my fifteen year long LIFE CHARTS. Someone just mother fucking hacked
me again, SHERIFF, as if you could care in the least or want to help
me one tiny bit? A black-hat dirt bag jerk off cum-puke-her hacker
just out of the fucking cunt blue, screwed up my margins while I was
typing that prior sentence. As I said sir, nothing
better to do with their life or their time, other than to endlessly
fuck with one little SPECIAL-ED-KID, pitiful, yo,
absolutely mother fucking turd eating pitiful at
light speed squared, yo BRO!!!!!!!!!!!
No Mike Soft, MOST DEFINITELY NAUT
BROadcasting, yo!!! Yes peeps, the day
B4 yesterday, on Thursday, and on BOT-X-4, I HAD TWO MOTHER FUCKING
'MAJOR' KLUTZ-OUT INCIDENTS, where shit got mother fucking spilled
all over the place. When the mother fucking diseased sicko
MILITUFORCE puts me through this much endless torture, pain, and
torment, I of course begin to lose it as the expression goes, and
then all sorts of little nasty fucking shitty things begin to happen
on top of an already fucking cunt existing hot hellish nightmare
shituation ongoing and manifesting around me and my close ass
proximity, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Another thing, well two other things, are the
continuous fucking visits by Mister M. Mortino, the ANGEL OF FUCKING
CUNT DEATH, actually some super high-tech something that first-born's
tend to be able to hear more frequently than non first born's do for
whatever the reason. Then the other super fucking ass annoying thing
is the visitation from what I somewhat half jokingly but NAUT
entirely, the disappearing demon entity, or for short, little fucking
annoying nasty-ass-imp “DISDEE”. A child who's half moronic can
see by the spelling why I call this thing by that name, yo!!!!!!!!!!
I get a continuous temporary disappearance of shit that I need that a
moment earlier was right in fucking cunt in front of my face and now
suddenly like Copperfield/Blaine magic, POOF, it's just gone, and the
gods only know how, where, when, or why. I end up eventually finding
the goddamn thing after a short while, but when I am already angry
and super ass frustrated by the events of a SUPER ROTTEN BAD BOTBAR
DAY, this on top of it sends me into mother fucking clit licking
TOTAL ORBIT, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO, and this just
happened right before I began this blog, my washcloth that I had in
my hand, and POOF, like a total fucking jerk off dummy prick, I was
sitting the fucking shit on this thing all the time, me' goddessdamn
fucking BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well
peeps, I TOLD YOU THE MARKET WAS FLYING THESE
PAST TWO WEEKS, AND I ALSO TOLD YOU THAT
FUCKING DICK LICKING COMCAST CABLE COMPANY WOULD NOT BE CALLING ME
BACK FOR THEIR AFTER SERVICE PHONE-SURVEY. They had
disconnected me TWICE, after saying press one to do the survey after
I speak to their agent, and press two 'NAUT' to do their automated
telephone survey. I pressed the ONE on my phone both times, and then
POOF, I am disconnected from the call! If they had called me with the
survey, they would have received all bottom-ONE
hits from me' ol' fucking telephone, as well as a tell-all
message on their recorded-comments part of it as well, and I would
have been within all of my rights to give them this extremely bad
review, and I still plan to do this, as well as send the BOARD OF
PUBLIC UTILITIES a full report of my total fucking cunt
dissatisfaction with their goddamn ass services, after I've been a
high paying and loyal Comcast customer for a decade now here in
Florida, and long before that as well, back up there in mother
fucking NO-JOYSEY, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is of course ON TOP OF
their already pissing me off by canceling my movie channel out of
absolutely nowhere, obviously on orders of WALL STREET & TRUMP,
and without even the common fucking decency of providing me with any
fair advance warning. It was done overnight, and I saw nothing at all
on my last cable bill from them concerning this mother fucking total
dogshit at light speed squared, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!! I have two other things I wish now to vely
quickly gloss over, Mister McDowell, me'; ol' Cooley H.H. Hall school
chum from 1972, later to grow up, become a man as our teacher Mister
Dan Mackey said he would do some day indeed, and go onto work in our
great illustrious Federal Government system that his family was all
connected into, and became the great Chairman of the great wonderful
non-calendar-phone taped conversations, legal or NAUT LEGAL, Federal
Communications Commission, BRO!!!!!!!!!! Yes that time you are
correct, Microsoft, BROadcasting is indeed quite connected into
thissssssssssssssssssssssssss rotten mother fucking total stenchy
loose dogshit! Those 'two' things, not 'TOW' things, or other prior
blog GASME-GAME-GOD-HACKS of the USE-SUE
worlds of duality, twins, and other
great wild unfathomable HOLLISTER-MAGIC, are as follows: The
WAYV-FM-RADIO revenge on me since I did that fucking cunt blog about
them, and then also the ROULETTE and how it connects directly into
and totally effects the 2,000 YEAR OLD
HUNTINGTON-FAMILY-CURSE that began ever before the great birth
of the Lord Jesus Christ or (King Akoslem) as this entity is known
out in the great regions of Astrality.
Let
me do the quicker thing first, and to quote the child molester from
Ventnor and Somers Point up there in northLANDS that also are known
as NO-JOYSEY and Mudville's Disney's mighty baseball Casey; Debbie
Tinsdale of James Stoy Grammar School; “Get it over with”,
yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Right after I
posted up that blog and pasted in or (CAPPED) in lots of shit about
Atlantic City's great almighty top-40 Frequency-Modulation radio
station, WAYV; ALL MOTHER FUCKING HELL BEGAN BREAKING OUT AGAINST ME,
and as bad as things were since summer time, and especially after my
one day of Jury Duty had come and gone; things
literally multiplied exponentially, after I posted that mother
fucking goddessdamn blog up, and anyone who does not realize
and see this as total absolute truth, needs only to go back and see
it all for themselves by simply doing some blog-archiving on
MOUNTAINPEN'S blog site up there at the MIGHTY GOOGLE-BLOGGER system
on the almighty INTERNET!
As
for the breaking or potential breaking of a 2,000 year old family
curse that I call the HUNTINGTON CURSE, and that my cuzz-Don used to
call and refer to as the “MASON-CURSE, back when we were teens and
or 'vely' young 'NON-McDowell' adults; here is
what happened late last night with my mother fucking ROULETTE
GAME
played of course on paper and 'NAUT'
with real money, but because the mighty fucking dirt bag
jerk off scum eating diseased MILITUFAWCES
know vely vely vely well, Bob sir of the FCC and now retired I
believe; that I take this extremely seriously, for the simple reason
that the vely split second that I can totally and absolutely trust a
system again to ever work with real $$$gambling-money$$$, I will be
AGAIN POTENTIALLY BACK IN THE POSITION OF ENDING THIS 2,000+ YEAR
NIGHTMARE HORRENDOUS UNFATHOMABLE HUNTINGTON-FAMILY-CURSE, once and
for all. Maybe the GASME-GODS Salvation-Game will be over, but then
humankind can GROW UP, and stop believing in these Santa-Claus GODS
of the Astral-Plane, and as Captain fucking Star Trek Kirk says it on
several old original shows, and especially in the episode with the
GOD-APOLLO, “We've outgrown you, yo”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's
time that humankind stands on its own two feet. The fucking great
famous formula given to Mister Einstein, proves
that we all are eternal energy-beings,
and we never ever will NAUT-BE. We exist, we are the damn EXISTORS
for crying out fucking loud!!!!!! As for being able to go and
stay in the great capital city of Purgatory,
Sahasra Dal Kanwal; well, this is where shit becomes way more
complicated. And yes, DOGTOWN is vely vely
real too, and we do indeed get
DOGTOWN SENTENCES, but hey, nothing good ever comes without the price
being paid, the actual message behind the greatest game ever played
by these ASTRAL GODS,
or “SALVATION”. Don't
even get me fucking started with this today, as this simply ain't my
pernt here; Mister Archie Bunker, yo!!!!!!! No mahm, pweeeeeeeeze
do not get me going, Mizz Berlin, NO JOYSEY, Eckert from
Eckert FARMA. TANKS, and a
HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE ass resounding B---O---O---M!!!!!!!! So WOW THAT,
Mizz Winfrey, with or without your great guest on your great old talk
show, who knows a tiny speck about Purgatory, describing some of it
so cool on your show in the middle nineties while I was residing at
the illustrious HIGHVIEW APARTMENTS
of WILL-I-AM-ST-OWN,
in NJUSAESMWG!!!!!!!!!! Yessir and yes mahm, the MILITUFORCE
knows very well that my ability and accomplishment in defeating a
gambling game with a built in legal vig or (negative-advantage) as
many mathematicians call this thing, and all casinos have these vigs
or else they wouldn't be in fucking business vely vely long; but my
ability to do 'thisssssssssss', is not just me
verses them in some simple little thing, just as I seemed
to be aware of this and instinctively had a 'knowing' of this way
back as far as 1983 and told both my mother and Jim Burr, that
rather, if I ever could manage to really this off some how; I
just fucking knew I would have to be completely destroyed, and
sure enough, just as with all of my mother fucking Costner Cornfield
Voices or (CCV's for short), I was 100% totally
McDonald's Disco Dancing great 1988 'Prophet of Nothing' songs;
{CORRECT}!!!!!!! Yes folks, that was most likely my largest
prophetic and most definitely 'pathetic' CCV's of my entire
pink-Goddess-ESP sicko-psychic life, at least as of then in the early
fucking nineteen-eighties, YO BRO!!!!!!!!! Just since this fucking
blog began, I have now had a sum fucking cunt total of fifteen
DEATH-ANGEL pass-by's. Never before in all my mother fucking life has
Mortimer Mortino ever come and passed by my left and right sides this
many times, NAUT even back in the late eighties and early and middle
nineties, when this MILITUFLORCE dogshit around me was about as bad
as it is now, and my entire thoughts all the time, were about nothing
but ways of mother fucking committing suicide!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This has now all come back, and it really started up after middle
2015 when mother fucking criminal jerk off prick Mister Don John
Trump threw his cunt lapping hat into the ring for the United States
goddamn Presidency, yo!!!!!!!!!! I know what I am talking about,
believe that folks, yo, if you ever fucking believed a twat lapping
thing in your lives, peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes tonight's
roulette game was quite horrendous. I did manage to eek out one unit
of profit after several hours of tedious horrible play time. Not only
did the wheels never come out in any way that I had been playing
where ranges did what I wanted them to do, but every single thing
that I thought should happen in all the games played, went the other
way, and all things endlessly whipsawed and if I had placed actual
paper-bets, I would have gone straight down the cunt eating fucking
toilet at light speed squared. Even when I play 'hypothetical
roulette; folks, I still only place bets on paper that I record onto
a work-sheet. I did not like all the crazy indicators that were
showing up from the second that I started playing,so I only made what
I refer to as 'thought-bets' until nearly two hundred outcomes
happened. Eventually, I realized that no perfect patterns were going
to show up, and in real life, I would have, or at least should have,
left the fucking casino; and then driven back home to fight against
these FAWCES and GODS-GAMING GASME GAMES, on
ANOTHER FUCKING DAY!!!!!! BUTTT folks;
I wanted to beat the damn odds after this
horrible super BOTBAR DEATH ATTACK for 5 STRAIGHT FUCKING CUNT EATING
DAYS!!!!!! So I finally placed a recorded bet, and
the first one LOST. I then placed two more bets within about a
dozen spins of the wheel, or actually draws of the playing cards, and
gee and wow that, Mizz Winfrey; I had a back to
back WIN. So imagine that, Art C.
I then left this damn hypothetical fucking casino, and hypothetically
drove myself back home. I then turned on this fucking CUM-PUKE-HER
to do this blog. Boy oh boy oh boy, Billy!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!
END
OF THIS NIGHTMARE EFFEN TRANNY!!!!
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