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AFTER
THE KNOWING, CHPT. 12
3:27
POST
MERIDIAN
WEDNESDAY
AFTERNOON
1
NJANUARY, 2020
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)
©
2006-2020 MARK WAYNE MOHR
MMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONIC:
Computer,
hear my MVP (Mind-Voice-Print). You will be totally absolutely
crushing, obliterating, annihilating, and devastating, wrecking,
ruining, and utterly wiping out, all of my enemies that are viciously
persecuting me FOR
THE PAST 65 YEARS,
WITH MAX-POWER AGAINST ALL PERSONS AND FORCES BEHIND THE ASSAULT ON
ME DURING THIS MONSTER ASS DEATH SIEGE ASSAULT OF 1
JANUARY OF 2019;
WITH A MAJOR NOISE AND SOUND DEATH SIEGE, AT THIS P.H. BUILDING, ALL
DAY LONG TODAY WITH THESE NEW SCUM PLAYBOY BUNNY NABES AT #605 WHO
HARASS ME ON HOLIDAYS, IN AN ENDLESS ICPE-APE-TECH ASSAULT FROM
DONALD TRUMP; on a crush-destruct
order, under GENERAL-ORDER-189,
max.-power. 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.
All
mother fucking day here in DOGTOWN, AKA
my Earthly illusion-life since birth at 9:30 on
Saturday fucking morning, December the 4th
in the year of 1954; I have endured these cunt chewing
bastards next door to me slamming and banging around. First they
harassed me on the Christmas fucking time, and now as predicted, on
the New Year time as well. This confirms the maintenance crew moving
them in as did the fucking cunt ROBIN
HILL MAINTENANCE CREW did that filthy scumbag PLAYBOY
BUNNY GAL PAL OF DEBBIE SLEAZE HARRY IN LATE 1981. The JRSS is merely
the same exact thing as the DCP (Dogtown Confirmation Proofs) of
everything now and all of the endlessly seeming unanswerable queries
of my life here in DOGTOWN. No matter
where I go or what I do, it is still the very same fucking cunt
reality, I AM IN DOGTOWN, and there is a
huge and powerful illusion all around me that I am somehow
'physically alive'! The KJV of the Holy Scriptures will say it
clearly to anyone reading the final verses in the final book,
“outside of the GREAT CITY, are DOGS”,
and also the residents of Sir Crichton's Mayor
Calibar
HALLOWEENTOWN, where the false prophet has a lovely
dwelling, as well as all liars, and other evil wicked things that so
incredibly effect the mortal world! Oh, another non-Mayor
CALLIO-BOTBAR for poor ol' frail whittle mother fucking
Mountainpen or AKA “ME”, YO! But try proving my truth and reality
here to the MW (Mortal-World) for all the good it will ever do you,
Mister fucking jit bag Mountainpen, yo! I'll
just remain the endless NEW JERSEY
CRACKPOT!
Well
before lovely Kate at the Queen kicks my ass as she almost did in
1997, huh Congressman Robert Andrews'
Assistant, Sir Clarence
Harris
of Sicklerville, New Jersey; allow and 'permit
me' to say one more HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE
ass mother fucking thing, since I have a day to kill here
since my “L&O” television show has been taken off for the
holiday today: I can prove a zillion mother
fucking things, and IT WON'T PROVE ANYTHING, not if the one trying to
prove it is actually existing ETERNALLY IN GODDAMN FUCKING DOGTOWN,
OLYMPIA,
PURGATORY!!!!!!!!!
“Be”
cunt chewing “real” people, just as
the great coworker of mine in early 1981 said to me at the MAFCO
GATEHOUSE on Jefferson Street in Camden, NJUSAESMWG. In any
REAL-WORLD where things such as what I will CAP
IN BELOW, were to happen, we would have a 46th
United States president in Washington right now, and a quadrillion
other things that have happened since just a decade ago or so, SIMPLY
COULD NOT BE REAL OR HAPPENING AROUND US: I
am viewing the fucking impeachment inquiry on one of the C-Span
Channels, and shortly after it got going and before the late morning
break, something happened that is very necessary for this blog to
include, about my lifelong rival and enemy MILITUFORCE dirt bag,
President D. J. Trump. While the Former-Ambassador of Ukraine was
being questioned, the Speaker broke in and stated for the record,
that Trump
in real time, is tweeting out bad shit about this lady WHO HE
WRONGED, but of course to hear him tell it, HE NEVER DOES ANYTHING
WRONG and everyone else is always the BAD GUY.
He then went onto say, and it made my day despite it already being a
major fucking BOTBAR DAY, when he said that this is nothing short of
“WITNESS INTIMIDATION” and it won't be tolerated as it is
criminal illegal behavior, and that is my own paraphrase, but he said
it in one way or the other, and IT IS TOTALLY ABSOLUTELY THE TRUTH,
YO YO YO YO YO, and why NAUT, as Mister Chump-Rump IS a no good
crooked criminal who cheated me and hurt me all of my life, ever
since the day at the Jerry-Hammonton-Texaco, back in the fucking
springtime of all great elusive non-butterfly laboratory technicians
from PENNSYLVANIA,
of 1984. I'll fucking cunt eating tell you all out here all over this
damn ass globe, straight up and right powerfully on the square; this
incredible shit, and I mean all of it, and all of its wild major
unfathomable connections to the Mountainpen; ARE
ALL STRAIGHT OUT OF MISTER FUCKING ROD SERLING'S TWILIGHT ZONE,
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Shall we never ever forget that the illustrious
and vely vely vely dangerous, 'dick in the mouth' Bob McDowell Cooley
1972 Hall dangerous Mister ROBERT MCGUIRE OF ATLANTIC CITY, and how
he went out of his way to tell me, that the peeps that I am searching
for, all
come from PENNSYLVANIA,
and he said this to me right at his PITTSBURGH
HOTEL
AND ERIN BAR ON 10-SC AVENUE,
in
ATLANTIC
CITY,
NJUSAESMWG, on that fateful day of infamy all all great non P.H.
DAYS, Patty or Pearl, on 7 February of 1997,
two months after that wild major Mary Tyler Moore green dress wearing
Astral trip I was I-Ching'd into, from
my Somerdale, NJUSAESMWG **DEATH
HOUSE**!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
here I am in REAL TIME, watching the Impeachment Inquiry on TV on 15
November of 1019, and
being ICPE-APE-TECH
slaughtered; huh ALL
MERRY'S and MARY'S everywhere, in
any colored dresses
yo; even MAFCO
RIGHT DRESSES;
along with horrendous
LOIS-FOCA song-tears,
from the very early fucking nineteen-eighties yo; and then comes the
great comment made by the Speaker who interrupted his
party-colleague, and said what he did about TRUMP TODAY INTIMIDATING
A WITNESS, LIVE IN OPEN CONTEMPT OF COURT, AND USING TODAY'S EVIL
SOCIAL MEDIA TOOLS, OWNED BY THE FUCKING CUNT DEVIL ITSELF, AS I HAVE
PROCLAIMED ALL DAMN ASS ALONG, YO YO YO YO BREE!!!! SO WOW THAT,
lovely BIG owner-'O'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In any BOB SCHLEIGH
'REAL-WORLD', I also challenge any thinker anywhere to realize that
as soon as I began blogging how McGuire's friend Paula WAYV King had
threatened to throw me off of the TRINIDAD HOTEL BALCONY one
afternoon in 1967 while my mom was up at the boardwalk's Tennessee
Avenue Frailenger's Salt Water Taffy Store getting some coffee, THAT
SUDDENLY, THE NEW HOTEL CHAIN (SUPER-8) non super neurotic meteor
girls who fly, REMOVED
ALL OF THE BALCONIES on the structure,
just as both the Cooley Hall at the Bancroft School as well as the
New Jersey 'NJNPI' Neuro Psychiatric Institute, BOTH
VANISHED AND DISAPPEARED OUT OF BUSINESS,
also as soon as my blogs began and also began discussing these places
where I HAD HAD GONE AS A YOUTH!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mark
Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr
©
2006-2020, 'BOM' (Blogs
Of Mountainpen)
ANY
PASTED IN POSTS WITH OWNER ©'s ON THEM, ARE THE SOLE PROPERTY OF THE
CLAIMANT, AND WILL BE REMOVED UPON RECEIVING NOTICE TO DO SO.
But
since I
KNOW BEYOND A DOUBT THAT I HAVE DIED AND GONE TO DOGTOWN,
and merely carry around some unfathomable Earthly physical illusion
of life; NOW
THE MYSTERIOUSNESS TO EVERYTHING,
CAN ALL JUST VANISH LIKE AN EARLY MORNING MIST, WHILE THE WARM SUN
BEGINS TO RISE UP HIGHER INTO THE FUCKING SKIES!
It
is really a sigh of major fucking relief to no longer be
quintessentially frustrated by attempting to explain so much around
me with endless futility. Such shit for example out of about ten
thousand other things, as: A
while ago, a story was all over the local media in my area, and
as if they knew I would eventually jump on this to vindicate my own
reputation in similar matters,
they very quickly ended the story, unlike so many others, such as
when
Mister
Justin Beiber
came to the area and raised a ruckus and went to jail for a while,
like
'Boo'.
What happened quite simply put, was a young college man wanted to buy
sex from some homeless teen girl, who killed him with her bare hands
when he did not pay her. The details to the story are totally
irrelevant to my point for today. He was small and she was a big
strong girl, who punched him in his throat, and then when he fell
helplessly to the ground. She put her knee on his throat while he
chocked to death. He begged Campus Security for help, and they were
too scared to do much except run and get help; pretty much what I
would have to do, so who am I to speak here? Anyway, when the
authorities got back, the poor little dude was dead and gone, at the
hands of this wild teen girl. No weapon was used in this killing,
other than her powerful body. Whenever I tell things to people that
resembles a story like this, be it my rape in the summer of 1969, or
just how I love to say back to a TV set when the Lipator Medication
commercial comes on, in a joking way, as it rhymes; “jip-a-whore”.
Then I say after saying this, “There's no whore you want to jip if
you know what is good for you”. In truth, I have arm wrestled a lot
of the women in my life, to quote Bob Cheatley Patterson, and won
only a couple times out of many tries. I have very weak arms, and
street girls are very strong, Ann King used to call it, “JAIL
STRENGTH”. She may have something there, to quote 3-Stooge, Mister
Moe Howard! Still, I am tired of being laughed at, and then a story
breaks that vindicates all the shit I fucking talk about and get
laughed at for saying, and instead of anyone ever coming back to me
and saying, wo, hay Mark, bla-bla-bla, no, fuck me, I don't matter
worth a shit to this mother fucking ass world, do I Mister SNOWED-IN
and Mister ALEX JONES? Bob McDowell, FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS
COMMISSION, SIR AND OLD FRIEND FROM 1972, they are hacking my mother
fucking computer huge time, please make it stop, ALL HOT HOSE BUCKET
PEOPLE EVERYWHERE!!!! As for the mouse-hack fucking shit, explain to
me anyone out here, how not only digital fucking shit can be hacked,
but mechanical shit as well, such as this mouse that appears to
somehow MECHANICALLY be screwed with so that during particular
hacking that is done to me digitally, a mechanical problem, where the
clicking of the damn thing seems to not be functioning properly is
also somehow and quite fucking mysteriously done in total
unexplainable TANDEM. Hey, I never said that I have all the fucking
answers to it all, me; blogaudians, yo. I ain't the great Patricia H.
Hollister H (Bitethroat), any more than even lovely 1969 Roseann
Delaney was, or is, or then, could she be? This kind of thinking
seemed to drive poor lovely Donna Lalassas Patterson nuttier than a
full grown fucking fruitcake, but them how can we explain rationally
that automobile crash in Berlin, or for that matter, the 500,000,000
dollar secret of the mighty Glassboro State College that ALSO-APPEARS
to be where she studied music at some point. I mean, I know for a
fact, and would swear it right now before Congress and the Senate,
that I have a legitimately provided by the BOE from my then resided
county of Camden-New Jersey, HIGH SCHOOL DIPLOMA stating that I have
attended the West Collingswood High School in Collingswood,
NJUSAESMWG, on West Collings Avenue, across this street from the
world famous Knights Underwear-wetting
PARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At 12:31 P.M., Death
Angel Mortimer Mortino
is passing by my right side and annoying me, as he's been doing on a
vely vely vely non-McDowell regular basis now for ages, yo yo
BRAHHH!!!
Now I can just relax ad realize WHY there is never any help or
assistance to be rendered to me from those in authority, and no more
pleas to Sheriff's, or AG's, or any of yesterdays wasted energies or
efforts; such as countless asshole shit like this:
Duma
Argon and Duka Agron is another fantastic example.
In what
real world would a total nobody such as me
have
things like this happen:
There I am one day at Jenny's Trailer Park in Mullica Township in New
Jersey, and this Philadelphia television news anchorman comes on, and
is discussing a recent terrorism action at a Jersey military
installation; and
he says a name found only in my blogs,
rather than the name of the actual SHOOTER.
Where
else BUTTERCHEESE and but MY BLOGS,
will you find the name of DUMA
ARGON? Go ahead
world, GOOGLE
it all up and see for yourself.
On one hand it is wonderful to no longer be searching in vein for how
and why all of this could be really happening to me, and literally
actually happening to me as Jim Burr told me that it was on a phone
talk that we had back in 1975. Now I can just sit back and live
eternally with the wonderful fact that I HAVE DIED AND ABSOLUTELY
GONE INTO AN ETERNAL UNCHANGING AND CONTINUING HELLFIRE that I have
labeled as DOGTOWN because on the HOLLISTER-ASTRAL-PLANE, that is
what it appears to be known as, yo! So yes, no more mysteries. For
example, not even thissssssssssssssss is a mystery without rational
explanation: In
or out of 1984, Cinnaminson, or musical projects sent to the U. S. ©
Office, I will still say the following: How I adore one big happy
family, even if it is TOTALLY CURSED, AND I HAVE TO BE THE
GENERATIONAL chosen one, huh sir
'DUMA
ARGON' of the
MICK-CLOUDS??????????
My blogs, here in Dogtown:
I
would wish everybody a fucking happy new year as well as a belated
merry Christmas, only it
seems that Merry has desired to indeed make this QUITE A
'MERRY-BLOG', despite my
claiming that this is really NAUT a MERRY-BLOG, and no, it sure ain't
a very merry one either!
FOR
ALL THE GOOD IT NEVER WILL DO, I PROCLAIM A MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING:
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
I
can take my entire life and my entire recent last part of it called
THE TIMES OF MY BLOGGING, and no more does the fog of mystery
surround anything, not when I come to the ULTIMATE FUCKIGN CONCLUSION
THAT I AM IN DOGTOWN, and that my life is but a physical illusion.
Still, when I say you are all props, don't confuse things or
misunderstand me on a major point because YOU ALL ARE INDEED
COMPLETELY REAL, and even have a chance to play the GASME GODS GAME
called “SALVATION” and it NAUT too late for you, as it is FOR ME!
I merely say that I exist here with you and for my purposes, you are
all just MY PROPS. I am NAUT your props. But yes, YOU ARE STILL REAL,
and I do not want to be responsible for any of you saying gee golly,
I will go jump off some cliff and fly now because I am just some
mountainpen-PROP! NO NO NO NO, that ain't how this works, and I AM
THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN JUMP OFF OF A CLIFF, so don't anyone out here
try that fatal ass dumb move, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, when I read old
blogs now such as the part of one from half a decade ago that I will
paste in now, it allows me to sit here and laugh. I can even laugh at
my endless pain and misery, BECAUSE half of the misery was THE NOT
FULLY KNOWING, and NOW I DO FULLY KNOW!!!!!!!!! Just as for example
the most recent shit that once would make me crazy, and now UI just
know that it is explainable by saying, hey yo dummy, you're in
fucking DOGTOWN, and all of this is just PAR 4 THE COURSE!!!!!!!!
Today and yesterday twice in a row, A FIRE ALARM GOES OFF IN MY
APARTMENT AT EXACLY 9:27 in the electrical number morning. This once
would make me nuts, but NO MORE, oh now Prop Sheriff KJM, NO DAMN ASS
MORE!
Harry
Potter may have been written by a nice lady in England, but I assure
you that in all probability, one of her advanced doppelgangers, wrote
this through her, as for all I know, one of mine controls me and
writes these blogs. I don't know. I said in all probability and
perhaps, but magic in my life is a non ending loop of ever lasting
event. To quote my conversation on the telephone in 1976 with Jim
Burr, while living at Carriage Lamp Apartments that later became the
New York Apartments for the gods only know what reason, as Clementon,
New Jersey is 100 miles away or so from New York, but to quote him on
the phone that time, “It will just continue and continue”. He was
referring to my totally fucked up miserable nightmare hellish sub
vampiric existence, that passes itself off as my life.
©
BOM 2006-2020 MARK WAYNE MOHR
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
My
1994 book, The Permission Barrier,
opens up a lot of doors to the following Morianity, and the story of
my life, also known as (AKA) BOOK
OF BEACH 2.
I
copyrighted my four demo-songs on one
open reel tape,
at a speed of 7 and one half IPS, on a full track recording, copied
onto my RS-1500-US, open reel semi-pro mastering machine, that I
bought from the Martin Audio/Video store, in Manhattan, in May of
1980, and was delivered to my apartment by UPS, early in the first
week in June, right before my powerful and unfathomable bizarre Lois
Foca dream-HIE-RAW!
Suddenly
Marcy Levy and Robin Gibb, from the famous BEEGEE assholes,
had made a song, that was rapidly going into lower numbers, on the
Billboard Hot 100 Music Charts, called, “Help
Me”,
speaking of major fuckiGN symbolism, YO. After I saw the attorney
recommended by my arranger, Mister Glenn, the song magically seemed
to get pulled off of the air, and was killed cold; but no one ever
spoke a word to me about shit, not Howard Solomon, not Lenny
McKinnon, not Malcolm Rosenberg. I told the FBI that my life began to
change in the negative even worse than it was before, when all of
this went down and my shit was stolen back in the late summer time of
1980, while residing at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments. The book from
1994 that I wrote and copyrighted, “The Permission Barrier”,
tells a lot of powerful truths, and it is no means a work of pure
fiction. It has some slight exaggerations and lots of legal changes
of names and places and items where I felt it prudent and necessary
to do this. Otherwise, it is the truth, and it is real!
I
LOVE YOU SO VERY MUCH, MY LIGHTNING!
Click
the link above the advertisement, for lots of beautiful
lighthouse-images. WEEEEEEEEEE.
Yes
Mister Alan Wolf from 1966; you, Wilson Jessup, and I; had some
strange soul traveling experiences, regarding Tennessee Avenue, and
the great Trinity-Trinidad Hotel, of Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA.
And yes, right at that same spot, in July of 1997; I spoke words of
great truth but did not yet understand why I had spoken them; to John
the Greek, at his parking lot, right there at the Endicott-Tag Pink
Goddess Games Hotel. I said and I quote, “My life ended in the year
1970”. Yes, Mister Wolf, it did, and you are 100% correct my
friend. But I am not speaking to Allan, am I dear agents, and family,
and 'whoever/whatever'----Congressman Oakangel
Andrews????????????????
Sheriff;
I have to go to my whack job place today, up in Oven Beach. Whatever
you can do for me, will be much appreciated, as things have
deteriorated for me to the point where soon, all
fan shit will fly,
and we all are going to wish for that great clock turn back, that
seems to be the only thing Earthers understand. Screw it all up, you
know, and then sit around for years wishing to go back in time and
change shit!!!!
AS
MIKE MCNULTY SAID SO DAMN WELL IN 1971 IN EXTON, PENNSYLVANIA,
USAESMWG; “AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA”!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
'AFTER
THE KNOWING'
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
3:00
A.M. ON TUESDAY, 31 DECEMBER, 2019
HAPPY
71st BIRTHDAY, DONNA SUMMER.
Okay,
we finally come to it. Before we actually type it all in however, I
fell asleep watching fucking television around shortly past two this
morning and awoke to a nasty rotten ass roach crawling on my left
arm. I managed to fuckign kill the shit eating thing so HAHAHA. I
sprayed the entire apartment again and have gone through twenty
mother fucking cans of raid and am all out and will now be using the
PELLET POISONS for both the roaches and the rats that I purchased
several days ago at my local ACE HARDWARE STORE. Monday was the most
horrible fucking day since the last most horrible day several days
back, which was the worst day before the one before that, and so
forth and so on all the way back now to the 15th of August
in the year 1986 WHEN THIS NIGHTMARE FUCKING INCONCEIVABLE HELL
AROUND ME ALL BEGAN!
AS
MANY WOULD SAY IN THE DISTANT FUTURE,
''THE
GREAT AND POWERFUL
EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY
TOTALLY
ROCKS AND RULES OUR WORLDS''.
WELL, NOT EVERYBODY AGREES WITH THEM, MISTER
CHILD MOLESTER
THOMAS
J. REALE
OF NORTHFIELD, NEW JERSEY!
BACK
A WHILE AGO,
I
was viewing the impeachment inquiry on one of the C-Span Channels,
and shortly after it got going and before the late morning break,
something happened that is very necessary for this blog to include,
about my lifelong rival and enemy
MILITUFORCE dirt bag, President D. J. Trump. While the
Former-Ambassador of Ukraine was being questioned, the Speaker broke
in and stated for the record, that Trump
in real time, is tweeting out bad shit about this lady WHO HE
WRONGED, but of course to hear him tell it, HE NEVER DOES ANYTHING
WRONG and everyone else is always the BAD GUY. He then
went onto say, and it made my day despite it already being a major
fucking BOTBAR DAY, when he said that this is nothing short of
“WITNESS INTIMIDATION” and it
won't be tolerated as it is criminal illegal behavior, and that is my
own paraphrase, but he said it in one way or the other, and IT IS
TOTALLY ABSOLUTELY THE TRUTH, YO YO YO YO YO, and why NAUT, as Mister
Chump-Rump IS a no good crooked criminal who cheated me and hurt me
all of my life, ever since the day at the Jerry-Hammonton-Texaco,
back in the fucking springtime of all great elusive non-butterfly
laboratory technicians from PENNSYLVANIA,
of 1984. I'll fucking cunt eating tell you all out here all over this
damn ass globe, straight up and right powerfully on the square; this
incredible shit, and I mean all of it, and all of its wild major
unfathomable connections to the Mountainpen; ARE
ALL STRAIGHT OUT OF MISTER FUCKING ROD SERLING'S TWILIGHT ZONE,
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Shall we never ever forget that the illustrious
and vely vely vely dangerous, dick in the mouth Bob McDowell Cooley
1972 Hall dangerous, went out of his way to tell me that the peeps
that I am searching for all come from PENNSYLVANIA, and he said this
to me right at his PITTSBURGH HOTEL AND ERIN BAR ON 10-SC AVENUE, in
ATLANTIC CITY, NJUSAESMWG, on that fateful day of infamy all all
great non P.H. DAYS, Patty or Pearl, on 7 February of 1997, two
months after that wild major Mary Tyler Moore green dress wearing
Astral trip I was I-Ching'd into, from my
Somerdale, NJUSAESMWG **DEATH
HOUSE**!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So here I am in REAL TIME, watching the
Impeachment Inquiry on TV on 15 November of 1019, and being
ICPE-APE-TECH slaughtered; huh ALL
MERRY'S and MARY'S everywhere, in
any colored dresses yo; even MAFCO
RIGHT DRESSES; along with horrendous
LOIS-FOCA song-tears, from the very early fucking
nineteen-eighties yo; and then comes the great comment made by the
Speaker who interrupted his party-colleague, and said what he did
about TRUMP TODAY INTIMIDATING A WITNESS, LIVE IN OPEN CONTEMPT OF
COURT, AND USING TODAY'S EVIL SOCIAL MEDIA TOOLS, OWNED BY THE
FUCKING CUNT DEVIL ITSELF, AS I HAVE PROCLAIMED ALL DAMN ASS ALONG,
YO YO YO YO BREE!!!! SO WOW THAT, lovely BIG owner-'O'!!!!!!!! The
entire deal in the WHITE HOUSE and in WASHINGTON is not happening
because of some random set of changing times. Nor is there any
possible way of telling anybody anywhere in the entire galaxy,
because nobody here is REAL and nobody here is REALE either, not even
TOM from NORTHFIELD, NEW JERSEY. You cannot DIE over and over and
over AGAIN, and continue to come back to what mortals call the land
of the living, WITHOUT having something happen to you that HAS NO
EXPLAINATION. Every person in the study of paranormal and psychic
research will tell anyone any time that this is true, and that I am
only echoing words spoken by recognized authority here. What I am not
simply echoing here is MY OWN PERSONAL LIFE'S EXPERIENCE of seemingly
being unable TO DIE AND REMAIN DEAD. The reason is so simple that a
goddamn mother fuckign turd swallowing little moron child can see it
while upchucking their candy bar. I merely THINK that I've COME BACK
and really, I NEVER HAVE. Instead, I DIED and I WENT DIRECTLY INTO
GODDAMN H-E-L-L!!!!! In NO REAL WORLD, could this entire thing with
TRUMP and WASHINGTON POLITICS BE REAL, and I know this, and so do
some of the PROPS HERE in my personal HELL, one of which is NEW GROUP
LEADER (NGL). The magical PULL exerted upon me in the
nineteen-seventies with Patricia Hollister and Jim Burr was very
real, and it happened in a real world; and without any magical
transdimensional newspaper boys, magical strobing flashlights or toys
that might even be able to transform into moons. The absolute PROOF
that this has not been a real place called the EARTH, for me, is not
some wild tale told on a fourteen year old fucking blog, supposedly
written by the craziest crackpot nutcase in New Jersey, Florida, or
anywhere else for that matter. The PROOF is MY
LIFE, and the PROOF is the unfathomable
wild NEW WORLD, that has magically come upon us, without
supposedly anyone else anywhere, ever becoming the smallest bit wise
to any of it; and acting like this is all
totally normal. One fantastic example is not only Donald Trump
and what has happened since the middle twenty-tens in the world of
American politics, but also how the Christian people have all sided
with this monster demon and love him to death and claim he can do no
wrong. Only in HELL could any of this make one bit of sense, and only
in HELL could a life such as mine since August 15, 1986, BE
HAPPENING. ONLY IN HELL could I be
blogging to the same three or four dozen global traveling secret
agents, labeled by me as the MILITUFORCE,
and are anything BUTTTTTTTTTTTTT a kind blogging audience; and
NO ONE ELSE; on this totally beyond sicko internet system
thing, where no one is willing to ever show me how to work anything
or how to do anything, and this entire thing makes 100 percent
perfect sense, when seen in absolute truth, the only truth that COULD
POSSIBLY BE REAL, and that is; I----AM----IN----H-E-L-L!
Only
be realizing this quintessential mother fuckign HORROR, can things
MAKE SENSE, and yes goddamn it mother fuckers; IT MAKES ABSOLUTE
PERFECT SENSE!
But
I did not truly die when I originally believed that I did. I now have
come to realize that I died on the Atlantic City beach, one week
after Patty had her way with me underneath the Central Pier. I had
purchased a thin steak sandwich at the Denny and Cy eats place on the
Saint James Place Boardwalk of Atlantic City, and had brought it to
the beach, and I chocked to death on the sandwich, and I refused to
believe that I had died, and I willed myself to continue on this
physical life. After Patty Hollister did what she did, we talked for
about an hour before parting ways on the fifth of July, Saturday, in
1969. she appeared to know my beach-pal Ziggy, and they began talking
about some place in New York, I believe a neighborhood area somewhere
in the borough of Washington Heights. During the talk that we had,
she hypnotized me and made me think that I had walked through the low
lying area under Central Pier and had hit my head on a cement beam.
While we talked, she told me that she was going to be cleverly giving
me a secret ancient wisdom technique after I reached the age of
seventeen, and that if anything ever happened to me before I reached
that age, I needed to say to myself, a magical grouping of chanted
words that I will not give out to this HELL-PROP-WORLD I am stuck in
for all eternity. Any time I ever have anything happen that will
cause my demise, I automatically say these words and I DO NOT END UP
A VICTIM OF MY FATE, and magically somehow circumvent around it. She
wasn't more specific, but she made damn sure that I remembered the
magical grouping of words. Every time any of us did, our brain always
lives a short while, even if we are at ground zero in a nuclear
blast, because the brain can change speeds, and will actually speed
up so that a final one hundredth of a second can stretch into minutes
of usable time. This is all a part of that known and shared truth of
everybody where we all have heard that expression, “My life flashed
before me”. Patty HHH explained all of that to me, and she then
gave me the post hypnotic commands and then forced me to forget
everything, and even when three years later appeared to come around,
I never consciously remembered any of this. For five decades now, I
totally believed that numerous times, I ALMOST CHOCKED TO DEATH on
many different days in the summer of 1969 on many different Denny &
Cy sandwiches, but it only really happened once, around the early
middle of July. Still, 'CHOCKED' is a powerful deal here, because
before I CHOCKED in another way in the late spring of 1983, nearly
double my life later from the time in Atlantic City, I had been doing
something with the FAWCES as Mister Hall would call them in 1990,
that led me to this dual situation, at least in my opinion. When I
made a major attempt TO ESCAPE something that I instinctively knew
was being done to me and was happeneing all around me by way of the
entertainment industry; and then attempted to get away from it, this
was sort of acting like a TRIGGER, and it then caused me to have
another CHOKING situation, but it also led me to a magical place just
off of Grant Avenue in Northeast Philadelphia, where things would
NEED TO HAPPEN in order to reset certain Marcucci/McCartney
pathways, and schedules. I truly
believe that this is the final and absolute explanation to many
things once thought impenetrable as far as any chance of figuring any
of this shit out with any reasonable bunch of logical concepts. The
appearance of things all seemingly fitting together in connectable
dots with numbers or dates or words or letters or places or any other
possible conceivable thing, is merely the goddamn fucking byproduct
of AN ORIGINAL item that then goes onto literally branch out in and
through the lines of time or MIND-SEPARATION. My planning to run away
to another country or attempting suicide or anything, is just a
futile mother fucking endeavor, as I AM IN
ETERNAL HELL, and there IS NO ESCAPE FROM THERE! I am too cunt
lapping depressed to quote the mighty WORLD-PROP Sir Dennis Snyder
here, with his somewhat now famous great quotation.
Nobody
can be directly struck by lightning, and poisoned, and shot in a WAWA
convenience store, smashed to shit in a fatal car crash in Woodbury,
New Jersey, along with several other car crashes just as fatal, die
from fatal heart attacks such as the one that I experienced at the
Cifaloglio job site, and on and on and on, and keep coming back to
HUMAN LIFE. But let's examine the magical PULL of JIM verses PATTY in
all of this. My father woukldscream at me when we lived together at
that fucking rotten apartment called the CARRIAGE LAMP in Clementon,
New Jersey, and he would say, “Quit vacillating, pick a damn horse
and RIDE IT, you can't keep switching back and forth from believing
religious shit and then running off in the psychic world of the
paranormal”. He would also yell at me, “Mark for crissake, this
shit'll tear you apart”, you can't keep vacillating like this”.
Now this was in the BICENTENNIAL YEAR of 1976, and I remember this
hellishness like mother fucking puke sucking YESTERDAY, Mister
MARCUCCI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Patty
Hollister pulled me one way and Jim Burr pulled me the opposite way,
and I began to feel literally as if I was back in the mother fucking
days of the Inquisition, on a torture fucking rack, and being
literally PULLED AND STRETCHED APART. One day while at the home of
Joann Marney in Berlin, New Jersey, in that same 1976 year, two
psychics who were known in the psychic trade were over at her
expensive lovely home in the country, and one of them had invented an
incredible machine. She would ask it a question and actual voices
would come out of a small speaker, barely audible, but they were
definitely there. When she asked if I had a question for her magical
machine, I responded with, “Why am I under this curse”? There was
a gurgling sound for about thirty seconds or so, and then came a very
wild group of sentences that I wouldn't forget if I lived to be 500
years old, which I will, and far beyond that. First I would hear
Jim's voice saying over and over, “Mark, there's something in your
family”, and then I would hear Patty's voice saying over and over,
“Remember the Fascitar”. After three times of this had repeated,
I heard a very deep and bellowing voice say in a very low volume,
“Remember the great clock and the two half sides, and remember the
polarities on each of those sides, as this is the answer to all of
your question”!
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
PUBLIC
FUCKING HOUSING
SUCKS!!!
PUBLIC
FUCKING HOUSING
SUCKS!!!
PUBLIC
FUCKING HOUSING
SUCKS!!!
PUBLIC
FUCKING HOUSING
SUCKS!!!
PUBLIC
FUCKING HOUSING
SUCKS!!!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
I
mean, to quote Queen Katy
and myself, “This is truly WEEDEEKAWUSS”!
So
I now say to this evil rotten wicked world in all parallel realities:
“YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO, AND A BIG-ASS,
VIVA
MORIANITY!”
The
time was back
in 1984,
and I said to myself in SPACE-TIME-MIND,
'VIVA-MORIANITY';
along with some 'other
not so nice things',
most likely! Now I wouldn't fucking give you a DAMN VIVA in or out of
lovely May-He-Co, or in this rotten place either, yo! Because this
rotten fucking place is nothing other than
HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL---HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Week
***********************************************l
the
week ending Tuesday afternoon, 12-31-2019.
So
no wonder my kid, and my aunt, are all a part of the WFMU INTERNET
RADIO HATE PAGE, after all of this is realized! Still, to my frame of
reference, they are just props, and I AM IN ETERNAL HELL, and this
CANNAUT EVER BE ESCAPED FROM!
I've
got fucking roaches all over the goddamn apartment no matter how much
I spray the RAID or how clean I
keep the place. I have the ILLEGAL GUESTS
around here slamming the goddamn fucking doors today, kind Sheriff,
sir. It's more fucking fun around here than Alice
Ciminelli, and her barrel of jail
bird American Honda guardhouse conversations, sent
to the U.S. Copyright Office, on 1988's Valentine's Day
monkeys!!!!!!!!!!!!! I believe that I
have been hit with another health assault on top of this, Sheriff.
Another horrible fucking year is beginning for me, oh wonderful kind
sir!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, my heavenly and marvelous life, measured by the
standards of anti-matter, is just making me so thankful and
appreciative of the blessings that flow from such a wonderful fucking
GODDESS, who sends songs in my sleep that altered my life, and so
many grand and glorious fucking things! So
thanks a lot, Almighty Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Karge Krassle, Sheriff
K.J.M., and “thanks
a lot, DAVE”!!!!!!!!!!!
YARRRRRR, Patty Hollister, maybe me buckin' hat's on crooked or
something. WOW-THAT!!!!
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Yes
folks, we can definitely call that my
Mountainpen's
Morianity
Quotation
or (MMQ) or anything else you may wish
to, as this won't alter the following truth: When the famous and
terrific agents, mentioned in that wild and cool report-documentary
on New York City's
WPIX-Channel-11-television show,
back in 1988
non-Spellchecker monkeys; Agents Condor
and Agent Falcon,
said that people who open up their mouth, and say things that are
not allowed to be said; those people will not be able to get a moment
of peace for the rest of their lives; how does this then fit into
those who were on the receiving end of all of this horrible monstrous
mother fucking turd swallowing junk, LONG
BEFORE they
ever uttered a single goddamn word?
THAT, oh great SIR ROCKDROID of the original STAR TREK SHOW, is the
real Shakespearean query of the ages, on kind peeps and loyal
Blogaudians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes THAT
is the question, Mister Bill
Shakespeare, YO!
How
I'll never ever fucking forget, ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, telling me how
all of my damn answers to all of this nasty-ass mess; lays in the
town of Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Right after he told me this
incredible fucking shit, kind Sheriff KJM sir, POW, “My
goddess non son of Sam girlfriend”, came over to my apartment and
raped me, and this led to the
miscarriage of my younger daut, PEE!
And then there was the wild dream a few years afterward, where
I was back at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments,
and Paula
came over to visit with me and tell me
how I was too immature and that she refused to marry me, and that she
had recently miscarried our child PEE. This
is how transdimensional hyperspace works.
We cannot go getting ourselves all fucking hung up on minor whittle
details such as an event happening in one universe and not happening
in another one that lies in localized hyperspace. No Spellchecker,
the hypERCHRIST
has absolutely nothing to do with any of this, OR
DOES IT, come to reflect on it
heredahelda and here, kind folks!!! I mean for crissake, it isn't
every day that I am stopped and searched like a criminal by the
authorities, for just sitting and telling a man about something from
my childhood. But it sure happened that particular day in Medford
Lakes, in the springtime of 1986. Maybe
this is why the satanic demons of hellfire itself, struck Dave Roth
and me so very hard, as after-all, it
was directly following all of this,
along with a tiny whittle detour through another Mister
Rod Serling's Twilight Zone; called
that special talk that took place in the
spring time in the following year of 1986, at the Medport
Diner, in Medford Lakes, New
Jersey; regarding the “Great Sarah
Krassle”.
Along with these whittle pirate facts and YARRRRRRR's, and buckin'
fuckin' pirate hats, I am wondering how Patty and her pal Santa are
doing these goddamn days, yo????????????? But then, like who gives a
fucking shit, to quote the kids who cuss?! Alligators or ALL I'M
SAYING is that long B4I ever had a blog, or even shot off my mouth on
RED-LINE-CROSSOVER
topics, or said boo about shit; I have been given a no-peace
persecution by these monstrous evil
mother fucking HALLS-FAWCES. So it is
not like anyone out here can go screaming into my ear, “Hey
Mountainpen, this is all your own fault”, as my kid did about
alligators, when I complained about all of these horrible things all
over this place, and she said that I had made my bed and must now lay
in it. Hey, she's totally right. Still,
was this all my fault for real? Was this all my fault for REALE, for
that matter? Was it me who teased you or
you who teased me, every mother fucking time that I came down in 1997
to try and relax on the beach, and you
tormented me with your sick demented evil WAYV
radio station, oh
mighty Patty-Paula?????????
WOW
THISssssssssssssssssssssssssssss, Mizz Susan Erica AMC Snakes from
1983. Yes, Patty-Paula may very well be Sarah Krassle, or
spelled with a fuller ASTRAL-PLANE name, SARAH-STACEY
JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE. Yes there is pure magic in this
incredible entity named Sarah Krassle
Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah
Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle!
Why
go to so much trouble doing all of these things, beginning with
Misses Cooley Hall High Hell Marola, on Memorial Day of 1969, May
30th, and going all the way so far, up to the stunt pulled
in waking life while I was at my non-choker Darius Evans Cifaloglio
security job in 2009, two years before the transdimensional-choking
deal, and right around the Lakehouse-choking deal, but yes, always
(choking-1983 deals); with that WAYV magical stunt she pulled on me
with the Regis Threat and magically getting me to tune into it from
my car while on that job. Things like this JUST
DON'T HAPPEN, not in any real life or real world, and not with this
sort of endless fucking repetitiveness; and I know that you
all know that, and I'm not being WAYV-cute
heredahelda and HERE, yo! There was a night a few years earlier where
I was at my trailer, #10 at the great and illustrious Mullica Mobile
Manor of Mullica Township, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; and watching one of
those two famous magicians on television. I forget whether it was
Blaine or Copperfield, but it was one of the David's. Tee-Hee-Hee. He
told everyone out in the TV audience to think of a card. We
all did, and HE GUESSED IT;
and that would be a one in fifty-two chance; and I don't buy into
chances, or long shots like that. Yes longer shots than this do
indeed happen, and with more frequency than we all might think would
be the case, BUTTTTTTTTT folks, I know that he did something, and I
know that night at Cifaloglio with Patty-Paula, that she did that
very same 'something'; and then things happened. Just because
I am unable to properly explain it, I STILL AM
ABLE TO FULLY REPORT IT to the goddamn mother fucking world, yo,
and you can bet I do, and will go right on screaming out my pain.
This monster and all of her FAWCES are behind it.
Since
I am no expert with
these computer systems, this will begin with a short note TO
MYSELF. Hey dum-dum Mark, you screwed
up. When you are looking for blog 4 and blog 5 of 2019, reverse it on
your office-dock-file, you know, if you want blog 4, type in blog 5,
and if you want blog 5, then type in blog 4. I don't know how to get
back into the damn file and repair my error. Sheriff sir, at least PK
released the damn hack on my 'making-lines program, as you can see
from below! So thanks a lot, Almighty
Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Karge Krassle, Sheriff K.J.M., and “thanks
a lot, DAVE”!!!!!!!!!!!
YARRRRRR, Patty Hollister. Yeah, it's under me buckin' hat, lovely
lady from Gloucester. Watch out for Katharine and Mary-Lee, Aunt
Ruth!!!!!!!! For those who may be
unaware of all of the nightmarish circumstances involved here; David
Roth and I would have many serious talks over a totally fucking 'Ed
Snowed In'
bugged up telephone, Mister
BLUE-NUNNGEN; and he would always
joke about that exact song, “Feel
Real”, and how as he put it so
crudely, Thomas
J.
Reale
of both Ventnor, and Northfield, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; molested me
back when I was fifteen years fucking old, at his
home that he sold to the ACMUA
waterworks of Atlantic City, on Cornwall Avenue, back in July
of 1970. There is
a connection and a message, built into every single event in the
entire universe and multiverse.
So
why do we choose (in
our spirit), to explore the various parallel doppelgangers
(doubles) of ourselves, in the virtually
limitless fifth dimensional hyperspace? To begin here with
this, we must still open up a whittle bit of additional foundation,
and so we shall, kind peeps and great wonderful Blogaudians!!!!!!!!
Yes sir/mahm, allow if ye will, 'THIS
DOGTOWNITE',
AND
THIS
HUMAN-HYBRID, with the Blood type---A
neg.,
and Eye
color---green-hazel,
to continue along heredahelda, and
HERE!,
Miscalculation,
and Mister Spellchecker!!!! BUTTTTTTTTT, if
I didn't get Paula King that radio, she
would take me back to the hotel
balcony in the year of 1967,
and this time, THROW ME OFF OF IT FOR
REALE. Maybe I should have
said FBI, or just REAL.
Or,
hey maybe I
should NOT HAVE SAID FBI,
to Debbie
Harry's
friends at ROBIN HILL,
back in the spring time of freaking 1981.
WOW!
So
now we come to more of it; the BIG 'Y'
of the 'dream-realms'? Is this series of
sleeping visits without reason, and merely happening by random? Well,
as the great BRITS would put it, “NOT TAT
TALL”! And the very same process of our waking mind
supposedly choosing to make a decision to do or not to do, any
particular Shakespearean thing; is not one bit different than our
spiritual or higher mind, equally acting out a
multiverse, literally, of decision processes, that we on the
mortal world, mislabel as mere 'dreams'.
Every dream that we experience is for us and only us, and it is given
to us, BY OUR TRUE SELVES. Allow me to further elaborate and explain
this to my great Morians and Blogaudians here.
SOUL
MIND VERSES WAKING MIND:
Well
people, soul mind explores, fully
retains any and all 'non-alligator'
items, is a natural super-sleuth, completely knows our absolute
truest desires, sends itself when allowed to (while the lower mind is
shut down during sleep), into multiple realms of hyperspace so as to
better shape our grasp on so-called 'REALITY'.
And
yes great people, waking mind
always agrees fully with our human sensory perceptions, is extremely
easily deceived by waking reality's many confusions, deceptions, and
illusions, and does all that it can, whenever it can, to conflict
with our truer and higher selves, that are labeled by our Almighty
Goddess SSJKK, in Her great and powerful Scriptures; as the
Carnal Mind!
This
should in multiple ways, make any really thinking person, see how
powerful our 'dreaming-life' truly is, as well as how the carnal
Earthly/worldly mind, really and truly for the most part, NEVER HAS
OUR BEST INTERESTS AT HEART! It could almost become song lyrics, but
the powerful nonchrisblumof501-Buttercheese situation here, is
anything butTERCHEESE-BUT A SIMPLE SONG,
kind folks out heredahelda, and out here as well, MISTER
Microsoft Spellchecker, so WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!
You
can try and explain and rationalize until your mother fucking teeth
turn pinkish brown and it never does one bit of good. Why? Because IN
HELL,
none of this fucking shit matters in the smallest way, just
as THE BIBLE WARNS
US ALL,
or USED
TO;
BEFORE
IT BECAME TOO GODDAMN LATE!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
It looks so natural, however the outcomes are shocking! I can hardly wait to attempt this by the enormous window by our stairs! A debt of gratitude is in order for this!Clipping pathThanks For You Sharing.
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