BTAT—CHAPTER 0012
Tuesday, January 17, 2023
BLOG START TIME: 1:48 Post Meridian
Extremely weird stuff is
happening, and it began last night, and I am under a MAJOR
OTAMMIC (MISOE) DEATH SIEGE TODAY, also beginning late last evening. I
was struck hard last night with another HAVAVA-weaponry assault on my bowels,
causing nasty unpleasant frikkin’ diarrhea. Today beginning at half past seven
and right up through present points in chronology, I am under a major MISOE air
death strike with horrendous crash level private areal assaults all around my
residence. MAGNESONIC, scan, counterstrike, destroy!
The day is just about to go SUPER BOTBAR
for my second one of the month and the year of 2023 as well. Last night in my
sleep, I traveled into a parallel realm of the FDHS where my car had been
repaired as it does in both worlds, have some weird problem where it makes a
terrible sound seemingly from inside of my dash system somewhere, requiring
several hundred dollars to effect repairs to stop it. Since I am dirt poor, I
cannot throw money away just for esthetic or cosmetic stuff on my vehicle which
will shortly becoming, officially, an antique, I believe the BRIPER on the
physical world (20-years) makes a car become an antique. Since my Dodge Neon is
an oh-4, and the 24 models will be coming out in the early autumn, I am but
months away now from this, and could care less about unimportant stuff. If it
runs and dependably gets me from point-A to point-B, then that is all that
matters to me. But in my dreams last night, it had been repaired after getting
suddenly much worse and it was completely riding nice, smooth, and quiet. When
I have good stuff happen in “dreams”, as you all know from my 1986
life-altering story of HELL, well, this is when the polarity-effect always
dependably kicks in for me, and again, look at my day today, folks, YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!! Many peeps envy my seemingly wild psychic mystical and magical
existence, I know this from some comments on these blogs throughout many years
now of having them, and you need to know great peeps, that this is total
insanity. You all want absolutely no part of my miserable hellish life, I
goddamn assure you all of this, YO!!!!!!! I know that
you all mean well, but meanings and daughters right now have about as much to
do with this total nightmare, as would a little lady-bug crawling around
on your wall after you won the Powerball billion dollar jackpot or after an
atomic bomb went off somewhere near your city. It just is totally goddamn ass
meaningless, me’ good folks out here. Living in this
incredible fifth dimension has lots of other connections that none of you have
to deal with and live through and interact with as do I. I told you all
on previous blogs from nearly ten years ago and on several occasions that if I
go up on my old blogs and randomly begin selecting stuff, CAP it into the blog,
and use it in a present blog; it will
not only make total sense so far as the interconnectedness but will then
go onto reveal major things perhaps forgotten by me, or placed and assigned
into a much lower level of mind (subconscious) in the area where all things
that ever happen to us in our lives, are indeed stored forever, yet we only
need it if and when it is part of something in current times that is relevant
and would otherwise merely be in the way of our living a normal everyday life
should it remain strong and present in our conscious minds. Let us examine here
what has just happened back on the previous blog titled
BTAT-CHAPTER 0010. B4 we do go
here, I need to tell you all that I am in a weird parallel word that I must
have been switched into last night because the library has never had
this many peeps nor has parking been practically impossible for many long
months now, and today is off the scales bad. I will be getting my home system
up and running very soon. Between the problems here with public terminals,
overcrowding, noise, wasting gasoline to get here, and parking problems, printing
expenses, and on and on, I need to get the Geek-Squad to help me get me’ cum-puke-her
up and running, and in synch with my home Comcast WIFI system; so I can blog
from the comfort of my own place without any of these goddamn problems and
hassles, YO BRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But let me talk now about my two
daughters, one from mind bending hyperspace, and another one from the wild
insane world of the lands of estrangement. I had totally forgotten on a
conscious level, that kommocassi war-pilot dream from a decade ago or so now,
and yet when I randomly selected a few 2014 blogs on my prior blog to 2B pasted
into the one I was doing last week, POW; look at how I see now where I was in
Egg Harbor City right near the potato chip factory, and the college there which
I doubt exists here in the waking world, but WOW, give me a break. Obviously in
the parallel realm that I was in a week back now, both Merry and Pee were in
the same area and even close to the same age, as in the fifth dimension, all
things can indeed be happening and it does not have to in any way perfectly
equate or make sense to any one waking world reality. I do not know how to
properly spell the name of those WWII Japanese suicide pilots, and
Spell-Checker system on the Word-Program is no help to me either, so-sahwee
folks, pun intended, yesssirrrr!!!!!!!!! If you archive old blogs, you will
definitely see how I discussed taking at pure random, old blogs, cutting and
pasting parts into the present ones, and then, and I will use the words here
like it or not, “WATCH THE MAGIC HAPPEN”.
I know this is all real, and yes, all of this and more still yet to come, is
part of the great scriptures only half included in our bibles, you know, the
mighty SAFET, expansions on just how to properly operate what our LORD JESUS
CHRIST told us all to do nearly 2,000 years ago to this very damn
day peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Merely reread the past two blogs and then this
blog, and the magic stuff is totally inescapable. First I am telling about the
wild ‘dream’ in Egg Harbor City, then I am randomly selecting parts of blogs
from back in the year 2014, and then POW, it all fits together more perfectly
than if a group of peeps were actually attempting to do this intentionally, and
yes, I trucked up on a recent other blog, using the word internally when I
meant to type in the word intentionally, so sahwee, again. Then we have the
biblically discussed reasons for many things in
that wild interaction where Merry was age ten, and at this university
area in EH City, and yes; later on more than a millennium and a half,
comes the same thing only disguised, the Freudian psycho junk and their type of
dream analysis. Just why was I in some weird apartment there with both my
daughters living in the area around me? Why were the doors so flimsy and weird?
Why was the place extra huge in size, and on and on we can endlessly go in the
examining and analyzing processes and we will, but not right now. In that wild
dream, the potato chip place was a food store as well as a factory that made
some of the foods that were being sold there. In many parallel worlds, I am
employed there. I know this now, and this is what connected me to the Harvest Outreach Organization when I first moved
to Florida, in many numerous and beyond outlandish ways, again, that I won’t
attempt to get into on this blog due to time constraints. Still, I was looking
at some loafs of Arnold Rye Bread in that wild dream, and without even thinking
of it on a conscious level, just a couple days ago, I purchased two loafs of
this exact bread at my local Publix Grocery Store, actually the one on Virginia
Avenue, and not the real local to my address Publix, that is just a mile or so
away from my trailer. They only have the Pepperidge Farm seeded-rye bread, and
I only buy seeded rye. There are major complexities involved with much of this
so much so, that if you ever became a true expert in biblical dream prophecy
study folks, you would then begin to see the real true power of fifth
dimensional analysis of all this otherwise forever ignored stuff. The entire fifth dimension is indeed a part of all of our
lives, and everyone walks around for the most part just about blind. I
will remind the readers of these words once again what is behind the reality
that even the great Doctor Billy Graham spoke of upon several occasions at his
religious crusades. The real you and me exist in Timeless Purgatory. The Astral Plane is a more accurate verbiage, only
don’t say that grouping of words to really religious/Christian folks, as they
simply hate it. Anyway, simply put, the real us in truth or in this plane of
pure energy, is much larger than we have a clue about. It could never be contained
in just one waking world that we live physically in here and now. This is why
our waking physical life is in many dimensions and various locales of the 5th
dimensional hyperspace. When we live our waking lives, our spirit or our-truth
is actually in one of virtually endless parts or pieces of our entire
completeness and thus is focus shifted right there. When we lose our waking
world awareness by going off to sleep, other parts of our true ‘full-beingness’
are also there, for our true self to begin a focus-re-shifting into. It really
is not rocket science at all, but to really get these truths and incorporate
them properly into our daily lives, we do need a full and complete reeducation
process. What would indeed be beyond a million Einstein minds all put together
would be properly attempting to put all of these 5-D jigsaw pieces together in
any true and meaningful way, ever. This is beyond any part or piece of us to
do, ever. Only on the Astral Plane where we are absolutely complete and the one
and only true self (soul) if you will; can it all properly make sense.
Right directly following
my sending my 1980 © DEMO tunes to the United
States Copyright Office, in June of 1980, which were a packet of four tunes on one open reel full-track
tape at a speed of 7.5 IPS; I experienced immediately on the very same week
that they arrived there in Washington, DC, what I call my 2nd
HUUUUUGE Sarah Krassle interaction (wild dreaming experience) that would in no way be one
bit less intense than the Biblical experience of angels sent by God to Joseph,
regarding his fiancé Mary after she had been mysteriously impregnated by the
Holy Spirit. Lifeguard if we do not make one word out of it (life)
(guard), has the letter transposition system of 12-7. The Haddonwood LIFE-GUARD told me that “The Holy Spirit told him
my name”. He admitted later that he may have slightly exaggerated, but
that is not the point, as I am not making up these things that all went down
around me, Sir Joe 1980 Sivo, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The two hugest Sarah Krassle
dreams were in December of 1969 and then followed by June of 1980, ten and a
half years later on after the original one. Now the last time that I saw her in
the physical world of waking reality was in the summer time prior to that
December of 1969, in late July or early August somewhere, the exact date does
in fact now elude me, but that much I do fully and clearly remember. The first
wild dream was about the chain, and the second was about HER SONG, that I have
now made a part of our physical word reality and indeed is known here now by LOIS FOCA in a slang-blog term, as well as its
official name in the Copyright registration system, titled, “Love Is For Carpenters”. Now SHE told me that
this is in fact HER CHAIN, and later she sang HER SONG, so is there any connection to CHAIN and SONG
that is easily discernable for us, folks? These things can go into infinity,
and some of it will indeed be explored as future blogs begin to fall into our
conscious illusion. My point however for right this minute, and not later on,
is that someone or something to quote the mighty Star Trek’s William Shatner
playing the role of Captain Kirk, knew that I had sent these demo songs to the
U.S. Copyright Office and then pow; I suddenly, and for no mortal world
connected reason, was experiencing this 2nd wild dreaming
interaction with the great SARAH KRASSLE. The first one was just after my 15th
birthday and now all over again at age 25 and a half in my apartment in
Voorhees that I had lived for about six weeks or so, I am in this wild
following interaction with HER. Someone does not like this blog. I am getting
entire trucking sentences vanishing now, not mere letters or words either
vanishing away, or being added on, but now an entire sentence or two. Allow me
to try and reconstruct here, peeps. Something in a larger picture truth has
recently sent me into a realm in the 5th dimensional hyperspace where
I was not living at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments in 1980, but rather in Egg
Harbor City, yet was the age that I would have been in 1980. Also my daughter
who was miles away to the north of me, just as where SK’s shop was north of
10-SC Avenue and not south as Misses Bassler insisted it was for whatever the
reason, now was also in E.H. City, NJUSAESMWG. Some professor was speaking to
me at the local college there that does not exist here, and now I remember who
it was. It was the professor who here, helped Mike Patterson and me years ago
on that Krystal’s Ball Project that was DOA at the Google Play Store, Professor
Mario Eraso. We were not discussing the KB project, but rather transdimensional
hyperspace. This is when Merry was walking by, and what I never told any of you
yet, and was saving it for reasons only I will know at least for now; is that
Merry went through that two sentence spiel of denying what I had said to the
professor regarding both of us living with our 5th dimensional
issues, is that after she said what she did about having the shoebox, she ended
by calling me “McFly”. We all know from that wild movie
in 1985 called, “Back to the Future”, that this was the dude’s name. So
on one hand she was denying something while at the very same time, admitting to
it. Gee Wiligars, YO BRRRRR! I did not ask for any of these things, and Jim
frikkin’ Burr said it all peeps. “Mark, you just
happened to get born into this family”. This was probably the most
intelligent and perceptive grouping of words that were ever damn spoken by a
human being, since Albert Einstein’s damn relativity equations. But these
things all tie into lots of other stuff that if I so much as tried to even open
up and talk about lightly, I would be all day just on that, so this can wait
for other times. It
is just like discussing dreams of David Roth, where suddenly they became
nightmares right around the time that Trump became the 45th
President in this waking world reality. He was not only a staunch
Republican but he believed in certain absolute things, and although he hated
DJT as much as I do, he would have changed his opinions should he have not died
in his sleep back in March of 2002, after D. J. Trump indeed came onto the
political scene. And this is when with no conscious thought on my part ever,
began to be extremely mean and ugly with me in DREAMS. These things at least to
me are irrefutable proofs to all of my claims that Mountainpen’s Morianity and
its teachings on the truth-trilogy of dreams, hyperspace, and exploratrons, is
absolutely real and totally 100 percent valid.
As you all
know, in 1997, I lived at 112 Harvard Avenue in Somerdale, New Jersey,
USAESMWG, and I traded in my 1994 Saturn Automobile for a 1997 Plymouth Breeze Automobile
at a C/P Dealership located in Oaklyn, NJUSAESMWG, on the great White Horse
Pike, non-Julia. Now folks this event went beyond another
one of Mountainpen’s HUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE deals. I will tell you a lot more about
the story, and I only wish that someone in authority someday would polygraph me
and place me under a truth serum such as SP or other similar truth inducing
drug and see that this is all real and true beyond any question of deception on
my part. You all know about the Saturn car being involved in Nick’s time trip
with me in that beyond wild dreaming interaction back at the previous
residence, the one and only great illustrious Highview Apartments, owned by
slumlord Mizz Maria Shoemaker. Nick and a group of his pals were absolutely
determined to steal out of my car, a magical shoebox as I called it, as in
SHOES, new ones from musical groups of NYC in 1986, those being slum-lord-made
as in surnames, and of course the most powerful part of this particular trilogy
here, the mistakenly named by me, who would go onto become the future-blogging
Mountainpen, piece of wild technology that may be thought of as a LAPTOP computer.
Now I did not know any of my daughter’s distant family of wild cousins in those
times and days, and had not even on any meaningful conscious mental level put
together anything at that time regarding P&M (Patty and Merry), let alone
my demo-tunes singer Bob Andres from Haddon Heights in Jersey; ‘but still’,
Detective Lenny “L&O” Briscoe sir, not only was I clueless to Cuzz Leticia
Tilley as well, BUTTTTTTTT, and a big ass HUUUUUUGE BUTT peeps; despite having
a VHS videotape of a precisely matching copy of the future girl I came to meet
and know, lovely 14 year old LT, I know that time and parallel realms of the
4-5 dimensional system, have no recognition of separation and thus, all things
as Einstein’s great “Spooky-Forces” stuff goes unchallenged. Even though he may
have put it in a parochial form of verbiage, truth is indeed truth, nothing
more, nothing less. LT stands for Leticia Tilley,
yes folks, but it also stands, in the entire 5th dimension, even
though at the time in question, I was totally clueless and unconscious to any
of it, for LAPTOP, or in this case with my Highview days’ TIME TRIP; my futhermucking magical shoebox. Now
to quote the mighty great Mister Dennis Snyder here, “And that’s just reality,
son”! Hey YO, it is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So moving the story onward with this
dealership in Oaklyn on the Julia Horse Pike, I went into ‘the joint’ one day, Mister Steve Winn sir, naught in
1984, but rather in 1997 and thirteen years after that, and KAPOW-BAM
Sir Chef Emeril Sir, they were every bit as determined and with the same degree
of full vigor as Nick and his pals were to get the LT away from me, or tablet I
suppose; but in any way, they were beyond determined to get my Saturn car. The magic of Nick’s time trip was not in the
laptop-tablet-whatever Congressman vocalist
of several of my tunes from long ago; but in the car or whatever had happened
to it on a magical date when a wild insane man from the nation of India threatened to
murder both myself and my mother at a place called the Turnersville Pathmark.
This was the day when I was trying to get a studio to help me make a recording
of my SARAH tune that I wrote in 1996 on the
goddamn 12th day in May. This was also when the ADA at the
Gloucester County Prosecutor refused to help bring to justice whoever was
behind all of this illegal and inexcusable behavior that was obviously being perpetrated
upon myself and my mother. But during the terrorist threat that was made to us
at the T.P. Shopping Center, in Gloucester Township, New Jersey, USAESMWG; my Saturn car was
suddenly mysteriously struck with something that killed it cold,
and it only had a couple thousand miles on it and was brand spanking ass new. This
same bizarre circuit was somehow behind the magic of the time trip, the
shoebox, and yes, the lightning car of the
fictional A.P. Keaton-MCFLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We don’t need Doctor
Coral Allen nor my father to tell any of us that playing around with too much
electrical energy can be quite dangerous to the physical bodies that we in
waking human form must rely on in order to have proper working interactions on this
physical plane. But if you think the story ends here, than you need to look up
ole’ Mister Neilson, since this is not the only ‘way the story goes’, oh kind
gwate folks, and maybe one or some naught so gwate, right lovely Mizz 1983 phone-company Blake????????
WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! During the time that this all happened
and as some richer peeps know quite well, with buying new cars, or trading them
in or whatever Congressman Sir; we go back to the dealership for free
maintenance work at regular mileage intervals. Now on one of these scheduled
maintenance times, and after my leaving the Somerdale death house, and living
at what I jokingly have referred to throughout my blogging project as Guthrie
Short’s mansion in Blue Anchor, New Jersey, USAESMWG; I went there and they
attempted to fix me up with an incredibly beautiful Spanish lady. Without going
into incredible details, that I really want to do folks, but I cannot, as would
simply take too long; here is a brief damn synopsis. This girl in early 1998 was the very same girl
from a POWERFUL DREAMING INTERACTION that I had back in 1997 while residing in
the Somerdale ‘death house’ as I called the joint, Mister Winn; and
I am not making up one tiny wee bit here of this off the wall experience. It
was a girl who I only had seen in a DREAM, never here, and suddenly, this
dealership was trying to fix me up with her, and she practically jumped at me,
yet she could have had any guy on the planet. She
made all the fashion models on the great Spanish Television networks look plain.
But the story goes a lot further than this, oh great songster of the 70’s,
Mister freaking Neilson. This is the girl who a wild dream, was my partner, in
what I purely in jest, referred to as the Trinidad-Nut-House, and was larger
than the place is here, but other than for that, is the exact same physical structure
on Atlantic City’s Tennessee Avenue, as was the Trinidad Hotel where my mom and
I stayed and vacationed there in the 1960’s. In that very same room where
teen-goddess Paula King hung me out and off of the room #323 balcony, B4 then
going onto having her way with me on the bed, while they sent my mom out for
coffee at the Frailenger’s Salt Water Taffy place one day in 1967; and where I
as a grown up person was living with her, and this was some type of a mental
hospital, and yet we were allowed to be together as a couple, and the place was
owned by Donald Trump, who had several nut houses all over the country, in that
part of the parallel world system. This girl was just like the girl I dated in
the late summer of 1999 here in this waking world, Mizz Helen Zabriskie. This
may be the correct spelling for her name, as this is the first time any
Spell-Check program on WORD ever showed me a spelling that matched the
pronunciation of her name. Talk about being in a weird realm, as I have typed
in her name many times on many programs and never B4 has this been spelled. But
my point here is that both these women could not walk into a public place where
any men were, not without turning heads like no one can even imagine. I will
never forget one night in 1999 at the Resorts Hotel of AC-NJ where Mizz H.Z.
turned every single male head in the joint, Mister Winn, sir. So do it
Chester-F, “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”. But my point and story regarding the C/P
Dealership is that they were all some wild part of my entire mess with the time
trip, Nick Cannon, my music, and my history in Atlantic City, the magical year
of the dreams to quote lovely Merry (1997), and on and on we can go here,
folks. The story is nowhere near completed here since this nuthouse which was a
larger version of the old Trinidad Hotel, is connected even further with Dawn
and the cuzz’s of the great family of washcloths, as I named this mysterious
group back in the summertime of 1970 while in Ventnor and being sexually abused
by Sir Thomas J. Reale. Down the street (10-SC) Avenue, from the Trinidad, that
after the late 90’s became the Super-8 Hotel Chain; right shy of the
Pacific Avenue intersection, and only a block and a half away, was the real nut-house where I had to take Dawn-Marie King to
many times, while I was living there with the family in 08-09. The same
thing and area and it is totally unmissable. It cannot be ignored, to quote the
great super talented musical group called “Raspberry Dreams”. It really can’t
folks. I called the place in that wild dream, ever since having it, the
Trinidad nut house, and I am living there with this beyond white hot Spanish
girl who seems to be either my wife or partner in some way. Then comes Dawn,
and my taking her practically down the street from the
joint, Mister Winn, sir. The Sheegee Krupa Corporation that I know I’ve
misspelled here, sold the place to the hotel chain that symbolically represents
Super Girl Sarah, as well as the 8 digit, with the real eight coin treasures
from Spanish Galleon ships that my dad discovered in his many deep sea dives,
and also the eight as in the total number of letters in my name, the Christian
name and the Surname. There are literally unlimited zillions of wild things
that are all interconnected with Atlantic City, Tennessee Avenue, the Trinidad
building, wild dreams, wild people, and all that is missing is the old juvenile
version of Morianity that was once called the “BOB” or the Book of the Beach,
back B4 it was all burned up by my old classmate from Cooley Hall, Sir Russell
Thaxton. So ‘WOW THAT’, Mizz Olivia Benson. The
story is endless, it still tells itself. We have not even started to scratch
any surfaces, yet I’ve typed in now today just under 4,650 words, and now over
that. Time really does march endlessly onward, there is simply no stopping it
folks. But enough for today and right now on this topic of the Saturn car being
traded in back in 1997, for the Plymouth Breeze car. Other clumps of daisies
need now be picked for a while, oh great peeps out here.
When I had the original
dreaming interaction in middle December of 1969 with Sarah Krassle, remember
SHE SPELLED HER NAMES TO ME, both of them. Sarah as you know can be spelled
without the magical “H” letter, and ‘KRASSLE’, is a name that I never even was
able to find anywhere in the waking world back in those times, and now, SOME
ARE OUT THERE, BUT ARE SPELLED SLIGHTLY DIFFERENTLY. There are some Krassle’s,
one is a diver guy in Florida who is studying carol reefs or at least was, back
when I first started these blogs seventeen years ago. Another was an Oregon
Forest Ranger, again, back 17 years ago, as now, who knows. My point is that
the name is rare, and even with those that I did manage to locate online, the
name was never spelled K-R-A-S-S-L-E. SHE went out of HER way in 12-1969 to
spell HER name out for me, both first and last names. Then SHE told me that SHE
needs the chain for something “in HER great city”. The second part in the dream
was not on the beach but rather it was in HER great shop on the north side of
the street, despite hotel owner Mizz Estelle Andersen Bassler insisting with me
that it was on the south side of 10-SC Avenue. She had HER dresser drawer
system which was a perfect match to the one I had in my apartment bedroom at
the Dellway arms Apartments, along HER east wall in HER shop bedroom, and mine
was also on my apartment bedroom’s east-wall. It was placed directly underneath
my ocean murals that I would stare at for no good reason from August of 1969
until late spring time of the following year somewhere, and say inside of
myself while staring at them, “Patricia, Patricia”, over and over again, never
ever having a tiny clue as to why. I know that SHE spoke to me while her middle
drawer was wide open and SHE was placing the chain that she had removed from my
hands back on the beach earlier, into that middle drawer. She said many things
and I only can remember a few of them. She told me that when I go back to my
other reality of waking life, I would find out that my chain would no longer be
inside of my lock-box in my bedroom closet which was to the west of the room.
That it really would be gone there because SHE had taken it FROM HERE. That
there would be an immediate sign that we had spoken together that would be
unmissable for me to see. Also, that SHE was aware of a television show that I
had just watched called, “Hans Brinker,
and the Silver Skates”. She mentioned that my big brother John Henningsen who
gave me the chain a year or so earlier was in some way a part of all of these
things, and she mentioned how he was given to me by Mister Hans Worshing at the Philadelphia Boy’s Club on 21st
Street, and that none of any of these things are purely coincidental in any way
at all. I mentioned the prior big brother Mister Hinger, and SHE had nothing to
say about him, only about John Henningsen. At the end of our conversation, the
chain had been carefully placed in the middle dresser-drawer and the drawer was
then closed. Again, this was a precise matched duplicate of the stick of
furniture that I had all of my life in my various bedrooms, back then an dB4
the Dellway Arms place, was my apartment at Haddon Hills in Westmont, perfectly
matching the shortened initials of the future 1997 transdimensional song called
“Wanna’ Spend My Time”, WSMT, and short for WESTMONT. B4 the 125-A apartment in Westmont, was 2041
Chestnut Street @ Apartment 24-A. B4 that, there was no dresser drawer, and
this is when I lived with my parents in south Atlantic City at the BRUCE MANOR
MOTEL on Richmond Avenue. I also attended part of the third of my school
classes one block from the motel at the public school right there, called the
Richmond Avenue School. Then that went onto become a laboratory, I was told by
a reliable and very reputable source. This occurred in the early or middle
nineties decade somewhere. We can move on with full intent of continuing with
these topics at soon to follow times. But Sarah Krassle is Pink Goddess, the
Almighty singularity, Absolute Gravitation, and that much I do know, one
hundred percent. No doubt about it, lovely Mizz Chillie and Mister record
promoter 1980 and 1981 Lenny McKinnon. I know this as sure as I know that if I
do not continue to breathe, I will simply keel over and die, physically.
Now I wish to
get on for a short time, the topic of the MISOE and why they persist on
endlessly keeping me sub-poor and down and out oppressed forever and ever. If
they did not have some great frikkin’ HUUUUUGE damn ass fear of my getting any
money at all, then they would not be in this endless battle 24-7-365.24219 of
keeping me as down as down can be. There is no rocket science to any of that.
The few peeps in my orbit in life who know me well or knew me well, all
recognize this without me ever having to state that to them first. But I also
had a special-education teacher say to me in 1970 and 1971 by the name of David
Leigh smith, several wild things that he recognized pertaining to me in
addition to just that. He said that something seems to be going out of its way
to keep you isolated and with an almost intelligent goal behind it, and THAT’S A DAMN QUOTE, as some things, you don’t forget
in this life, well; or I don’t at least, YO ME’ BRAHHHHHHHH!!!! He also
told me several years later in 1976 when I ran into him one day by pure chance
in the city of Camden, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG, at the county unemployment
office. He said that there does indeed appear to be a force at work to
endlessly make every single thing that you ever try to do just totally fail, and
it’s as though something wants you to live in sub-poverty forever no matter how
damn much you ever keep trying to climb out from under it. These are very close
paraphrases here, not precise quotations, even my damn memory ain’t quite that
fantastic, YO BREEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!! Peeps that get to know me over time and
begin observing my life, will and definitely do start to recognize the crapola
that is endlessly playing out all around me. It is now 5:40 in the early
evening, and time to start to wrap up this blog for today. I will end by
telling you that Pearl Harbor Day of 1996 is by no means a random happenstance
with matching initials to lovely Mizz Patricia HHH. I had not yet realized who
she and Merry were then in December of 1996 and only had SJK on the brain, but
as you all know, crapola was about to unfold around me that proved
HUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE tie ins as well as lots of memory repressions either on my own
part or from intentionally hacked sources all around me all my damn ass life,
YO YO YO!!!!!!!!! Allow and permit me if you will kind folks to discuss real
quickly, what happened to me on this 7th December day of 1996 while
at my death house at 112 Harvard Avenue. Without getting into the entire story,
I have first told you all how magical type of forces got me out of a residence
where there was no cable television that had a channel called the ‘SYFY
CHANNEL’ on which a show called “DARK SHADOWS” was re-airing. The forces were
making sure that I would be watching it in order to watch a character on that
show named Count Petofi, use the ‘I-Ching’ to take a time trip in his spirit,
in order to go from the year of 1897 up to 1969, in order to escape his arch
enemy Johnny Romano, King of the Gypsies. So since the cable company that I had
in my place at Highview apartments did not offer this SYFY-Channel, I had to be
moved to a place where this all could be made to come about. This was done by
Paula King raping me for a 2nd time in June of 1996 and also by
Jeanette my neighbor next to door and some bar scum she picked up, both making
my ;life quite ugly and unpleasant there. After I moved into the Somerdale
place, watched the show and began viewing it again as I had done originally
back in the 1960’s, I copied the great Count Andreas Petofi again, just as I
did in the autumn of 1969, and so the ‘Halls Fawces’ knew that I could be
depended on for doing this. So they went onto to activate their plans with me
accordingly. It is not rocket science at all when we carefully think of the
entire larger picture here in a light of full examination. When I went to meet
Robert McGuire for the first time on the 7th day in February in the
following year of 1997 (year of the dreams) to quote hyper-dimensional Merry; let
us look at just some stuff in this expanded new light of wisdom. February seven
is numerically the electrical number, right peeps, ‘27’, even though it would
be written as 2/7 on a bank check or business form. It is still two-seven as in
27. Then it was in 1997 when this happened. Subtract the number 27 from that year of
1997, now we get Merry’s birth year. Someone is asking for a direct
Magnesonic counterstrike as they made my entire blog just suddenly vanish, and
if it was not for saving this to my E-drive system, I would be screwed. One
more trick like this and I guarantee that Magnesonic will cause something so
huge to happen, that I will not take responsibility for it when half the damn
world goes ‘kaplooey’ tomorrow, YO!!!!!! Someone is weelwee trucking asking for
it, YO ME’ BRAHHHHH!!! Powerful Halls Fawces are at work here, and I will tell
you that others here are being effected by them as well, of course they’re
beyond totally frikkin’ clueless to what’s goddamn going on!!!!!!!!!!!! B4
these diseased scum have a chance to totally wipe me out today and turn a
BOTBAR into a super botbar day for me, I will end the blog and tackle some really
big ass store high
in transport
junk at a later time this week, folks, YO BRO!!! Hackers have this computer, so
I better clear the futhermucking damn ass DOGTOWN ‘ouddahele’
Mister ball-player announcer sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hey, if
Merry’s goddamn transdimensional hyperspace stuff is what she claimed it was in
that parallel world, then why does she and her ‘X’ care
about my “shoebox-Volvo-Saturn”? Also in case anyone is wondering about the
wild connection to Volvo and Saturn, it is because of the shoebox-tablet thing.
You see, Dave Roth used to call Volvo automobiles, “SHOEBOXES”. I think Merry
was just being funny in that wild hyperspace interaction (dream) ten days ago
give or take. So I called tablets shoeboxes, while DCR called Volvo-cars
shoeboxes. HA-HA-HA, or to quote Sir McNulty from back at the Church Farm
School in 1971, “AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As for me,
right now in the year of 2023, all I wanna’ say here is that I have a whole damn lot of bones to pick about not
only very magical years, and forces, and kids from all over the FDHS;
BUTTTTTTTTTT, big ass BUTT, I also have a lot of bones to pick with computers
and hackers. Someday I will find a way to get frikkin’ even with all of these
pricks who never stop screwing with me on these machines, and that, IPY,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Take that 2 the bank, great folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END OF
THIS TRANSMISSION AT 6:22 POST MERIDIAN.
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