MORIANITY PART V, CHAPTER XCII, KING NEBNOOSHOO BLOGS

Here are two sites to visit for fun as well as reading my blogs, you will get a lot of color and a lot of photos and all that nice crap that makes blogs cool, not boring and dull/

http://www.theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/

http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/

Morianity part 5, chapter 00092

5555555555555555555555555555555
OK Lads, Lassies, Labbers, and Lab Dogs AKA (L-4), and as my introduction on an old drum music track from the eighties and copyrighted by me also long back, says in my own voice, before the first drum sounds, “HERE WE GO”.

Doors, doors, doors, doors, Public Housing Authority, my letter to you, and the two others mentioned; will be on your desks most likely by end of business this week, or next Monday at the latest. I am living with dirt bag welfare rats that have numerous peeps in that apartment at all hours of the day and night who will shout and make noise also at any hour they so choose to do, and if this is not the typical behavior of area drug cartels, I will eat my rug with dog stink on it, at the speed of light squared.

MORIANITY PART FIVE

THIS IS CHAPTER NUMBER 00092, MY BELIEVERS.

12:17 PM, FRIDAY, 31 MAY, 2013

This is 100% machine created, techno-pop, sampled from the intro.

YOU’LL BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983

NEW 2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC TRACK ALONG WITH ARE UP AT THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, LIKE DUH:

Only the opening title words are real.

///////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ KEYBOARDS FROM PETA-HELL ®

MARK WAYNE MOHR——–1980, ALL BLOGS © 2006-2013

Like DUH, and color me anything from ‘MINE’, to ‘IMPRESSED’; Lenny Briscoe! Still, sir; this is not starting out as a good day by any stretch of the fucking ass mind.

First off, I was awakened rudely by the uncouth lowlife welfare rats and their loud slamming doors across from me, it is Friday and FOOD DAY in the building, and this is quite often a day where they just sit in there and fucking party hardy all dam day. These are young able bodied trash who take advantage of our welfare and assistance programs here in this country, unlike me who worked very hard, often with two jobs and long hours, since I was out of school, until they eventually crippled me into disability through continuous covert assaults of covert harassment and persecution that I just could not take any more and be able to function properly and adequately in a work environment after the end of my thirties. Still I put in my 20 years, while these scummy trash are pure drug using scum bums, and THAT, SIR ROCKDROID; is the simple honest truth!!!!!!!

Believers, it is time for me to say a few things that might appear as quite a jumbled up bunch of scatter brained nothingness, at least according to the logical mind of one Terry, from Egg Harbor City, in New Jersey; back around middle oh-7. I cannot worry myself about that. My problems, and my story AKA Morianity; is just not an entity that can be told the way that this super literary giant would like it to be, so too bad. Some of the next blogs starting right here will begin to further discuss in more elaborated detail, the surreal and unfathomable topic known as and refered to by me, this blogger, REALITY-3, the monster and the truth, that is behind the truths and mysteries of PARALLEL-EVENT!!!!!!!!!!!

Now after I was awakened at just past eleven this morning, I tried calling my doctor to confirm my appointment for next week, and it was hell waiting to speak to some busy answering service who kept me on hod a long time, and then did not seem to find me until another person in the background who eventually assisted her, was able to conform me for Monday afternoon. Normally, I get a confirmation, and the one time I did not a year or so ago, I went as scheduled, and no doctor was there in the office. I was not about to take the chance of that fucking event happening to me ”all over again”, huh Diana Andrews Memoryhacks Shipyards? When the first two things start off real wrong in a day, it is a bit worrisome to say the least, then I called Mikey, and he is doing something, and has been, that these blogs need not tell about, always for some friend in Miami, and will be busy for a while, weeks perhaps, so you know, since I know that Jasper told him what I said, I already know he is just faking a friendship with me now, and stringing and playing me like an old fucking cunt fiddle, so I am going to just forget totally about him, and this time, permanently. The entire way that things appear to basically work down here in Florida, is so different, than up in the northeast; with doctors and the non professional way that it all operates down here in ‘Southern Hicksville’, and even with socially related items, and I could go ranting on if I really wanted to; but I am now absolutely going to save to move out of here and back home, and into a nice trailer park someplace, and start all over again, and have absolutely mother fucking nothing to do with a single soul. I always said that one thing that bitch sucking total whore Dawn-Marie King did for me, and it was a real big ass favor whether she ever knew it or not; was to cure me of wanting anything to do with family life, girls and girlfriends, any and all of it. I just want to be left alone, just like the great actress Greta Garbo. So screw the fucking world at C-SQ!

I am so sick and tired of Atlantic City, and what has emanated from this place, that caused my life to suffer a total collapse and breakdown; that no words can even hope to ever describe how I feel. This goes the same, with ‘THAT FAMILY’ and recurring dreams of them, that all began in early July of 1970, with medical experiments, and magic washcloths, and surgical procedures, and on and on with that hellish tale of pure agony. Also I am equally revolted and sick to death, of parallel realities that insist on bleeding through, to the one that I try and live and exist in, while awake; seemingly a lot more with me, than what is both normal, as well as would be appropriate. Then, not by any means least on this list, merely last, in my memory order; the MILI-2-FORCE, and what they really are, in the land of ‘death’; the LAMBRIGG CULT OF PROVINCE OLYMPIA. Again, this is a condition-interaction, not a tangible physical place, and is why it is not here in our physical realm of material objects and living creatures, that breath, and bleed; and the gods only know what else when the refrigerator door closes. This very old wise tale about such things, is well founded and grounded, in the new at the time, in century-20-science, called “Quantum Mechanics”. Naturally, all of this crap is leading up to some real heavy stuff, but instead of writing lots of flowery adjectives and words in general, I will be down and not too dirty, but straight out quick; telling it once, with no fancy literary work. No one’s trying to win a freaking prize for blog work here, especially for complexity and confusion. So here we go, Copyright Office, not taking any crap, and or running on Gloria-ACMUA large water pipes, 001, or is it 002? I admit I have forgotten, but Mister Expert with the three items, that I thought included fire, yes who can tell any longer, with all of my switching and crossing, and of course; hidden underneath the bad erase head of the open reels, FOR THE 1984 RECORD. No, there is no time for Collingswood A&P, AT&T, or other unexplainable things from Lady Korea to the ME and even to the Haddonfield Mobil Gas Station, let alone Richard Karpf, and his real estate office phone number, given to me by a 411-0perator back in 1987, when I asked for a totally different other friend of Patty-Jane, and broken bedrooms of endless mystery and drunken Russel’s, from my lovely past, with eternal game playing Goddess-MDE. You know, talking about real power in symbolism; pronouncing this ‘mother-daughter-electron’ triple goddess deal as MIDI, by saying the word abbreviations of ‘MDE’; takes us where else, but straight to music, after-all; it stands for ‘Musical Instrument Digital Interface’, just as HTTP-WWW stands for hyper text transfer protocol world wide web, and interconnected networking computer systems, are shortened to the ‘INTERNET’, but that’s all, as Donna Gaines Summer might say, it if not up in the future, at the World Laboratories; “That’s neither HAIR nor there”! Let us put our walking shoes back on, wipe the blood off, and our faces; and move this right along, before two dogs end up biting me; right late Dawn-Marie King?

Yes folks, by the time I save the money, my third year’s lease will be up, and I will go back to New Jersey, crooked as it all is up there. I have plans that will deal with these fucking jerk offs in the political arena, if shit keeps up against me, right down to clever deaths planned for many of my enemies, still alive and well, on my fucking ”Surf-&-Turf’ Death List, I promise you that WOMO, so WO!!!!!!!!! I will not live in fear of total dirt bag swine!

I know the lady at the Copyright Office lady that did not wish to lose her dam Ed-Green job that day was all a part of that same political machine that I just discussed here, and did not wish for poverty and unemployment to suddenly strike her and family either, back in 2008. Still. Oh yes sir and yes mahm, it was totally in her manner, and the way she said things; and just exactly what she said, in-between what I know she wanted to say; looking back on this, from about five years later; that allows me to totally know that the Ed Green L&O syndrome indeed kicks in again, for her, and for me; and for my YBCO TUNE. The White Slavers Club, of the Gallagher’s and the McGuire’s, who take care of the family, with magic bullets and magic transdimensional parking lots; and hate certain of us who have wrong mix breeds inside of us; and just how McGuire knew all this about me in 1997, is totally unfathomable; but then so is the visitation of my ”goddess giant girlfriend”, at Highview; to quote the great Sam, and not his son, the Williamstown cop. Here is a case where the son of Sam is not the bad guy, but then bad is a harsh word here, as he just needed to “KEEP HIS DAM JOB”, Detective Green, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But then switching up here from both 1997 and 2008, here we are in middle freaking 2013, and yes, I said it first, and they knew it all along. When you sacrifice the life of the innocent in demonic ritual, the game of the gods called, “Lets play a different guessing guest name”, allows them to negotiate with a powerful Astral-Plane god named Apollo-Lucifer, for great Astral-Plane power. I don’t mean he gives away the ‘shop’, but he lets the babies in the sand box who cooperate a little more with him, than most are willing to do; you know, torturing and sacrificing babies and young kids to a horrible ritualistic death, in the name and honor of Beelzebub Diabolis, AKA Apollo-Lucifer, the Astral-Plane words are precise English waking world translations, Apollo and Beelzebub are like saying Tick-Tack-Toe, only maybe with a slight change such as accenting the TOE and not the TICK. There is a technology behind all this so called mystical power, just as there are parlor tricks behind all of the magicians little cute stunts and phony psychics who practice deception for money. Still, unlike what Patty-001/2 believes on his persona in his great show; there are indeed some real McCoy folks who have practiced this game of sacrifice to AL, yes AL, a nice shortened name for Apollo-Lucy, whether he likes it or not; and even though he indeed is Diana’s twin sister, I will always love my beautiful Diana, the great Goddess of the Moon and Lightning, and in honesty, Mister Joel sir, a lot more than that; and the few who know, not only do know, but have known all along; county jail pleas and all. Yes, it was all a test, to see if I really had the 10 grand buried, as was talked about with the winning bet back in twenty-ten. You see, believers, to add on here to how slow I catch on, despite things never getting past me eventually; I was being tested to see if this was true, or so I have been told, last night by the All Mighty Goddess Herself, who untied me; and blew all the ants away and out of the great Lakehouse Porch, and then put a magic lotion on me that smelled better than her two old time faves from biblical days; and worked better as well, as all my many open sores were healed instantly, and on top of that, after I was nearly healed, and BOO was untying me; she began to give me that smirky adorable smile, that if you do not know MC, you will never see it; and then she sang the appropriate song regarding this. I never said after what you went through with McGuire and all the clan that cousins out to your wonderful somnambulist mom, that you do not deserve all the smiles and happiness in the world, and it is my sincere wish that you have only this, and as long as you wish. I am not against you, just sad that you want to play this very unpleasant game here with me; when out there in eternity, we have so much more fun with other games, like Tag, Guess the Name of the Guests, and your kite flying, and so much more, right down to what would get me stoned to death even in 2013, if I blogged on. Mortals live in the caves, and then they pot and kettle me, for not liking computers, cell phones, and all this demonic crap, that is totally destroying the very fabric of our society. My point here is proven by them, not me. I mean really, we will all be in our own worlds, while huddled together in cities and towns, all separate and estranged from normal reality. It is not coming people, it is here now; ever here of the newest visor crap that Google is advertising and selling. It, as all things, is expensive at first; but as consumers purchase this crap, the prices will drop, and soon, all of us can be all alone in our own worlds. Come on governor Scott, do you really think this texting on the road is safe? He said NO I DO NOT, and he did something about it, that’s a start. Thank you governor. The fourth dimension is such a cool little thing, still, as the great Library of Congress most likely knows only too well, it is all a ”A GAME NO MORTAL DARES TO START”, the problem is however folks, that I did start it, and now I am stuck with the resulting fucking ass consequences. Still, we will move in with REALITY-3, WHITE-SLAVERS CLUBS owned by my ugly distant family, and so much more beyond nastiness, even I may vomit up rusty nails before all is totally said and done here. So good folks out here,

THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE, AND PLEASE BELIEVERS AND L-4 FOLKS, TRY AND HAVE YOURSELVES A VERY VERY NICE DAY.
YOU ARE CONTINUING ON CHAPTER 00092, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Reality-3, wow, an intimidating topic, way more than Phase-4-entities, or even TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS, for that dam ass fucking matter, YO! Long Story Short (LSS), let’s dig right into this horrible pile of stinky revolting cake of baboon shit.
Folks, there are things not talked about for many many mother fucking reasons on this rotten Earth, and in all societies of the world, in all times in human fucking ass history; for reasons that benefit as always, a small few chosen representatives of cosmic owners; called World Owners, by me, as this term seems to fucking fit, ”in my mind” to quote my wonderful yacht cousin the late, Sir Heinz Gottwald, of Babylon, New York; real ass dam good. Adding ‘Milituforce Otammites’, after ‘World Owners’; we get the abbreviated, and often used in MORIANITY, ‘WOMO’. But all that piss drinking junk aside my wonderful believers, it is time, as Barnabas of Dark Shadows put it so well in early 1970, to get a little truth out of the way; even though it may even stretch the minds of believers in Morianity, to a limit they are not ready to freaking ass cross over into. No pun meant. There really are five dimensions, and we really do interact while awake, in only three of them; and this is why humans are awake three fifths of their life, and in the other two fifths, they are in those other two lovely and quite mysterious dimensions of every much of a reality. There are places in this entire fifth dimension or in hyperspace containing all of the things that result from a MIND SIGNAL sent down from even yet one dimension above this one, the sixth; and not all of it makes perfect sense to all of us living here right now, and reading these blogs. Still, I have no choice but to try and clarify a few quick points, I wanted to add ‘simple’ after the word of quick, but you may not agree with me on that, therefore out of respect for my viewers, I will not do so. Most of you that have followed Morianity for any length of time, have been told about TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS, and how this fits into what I am saying so far in this blog right now. Some have come to understand that we become exploratrons as sleepers and dreamers, and whether or not you choose to believe my words are true as a very select few do, even a few who hate me right now; but they know I am for real, and this is all true; but moving this right along; just because perhaps none of us, and me included, are real advanced TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS, this does not mean that one out of endless countless bazillions of our doppelgangers in the full hyperspace, are not; and just as the old time travel theorists love to always say, and it is not something easily dismissible, “As long as the technology is discovered before the end of time, then time travel is both real, and part of our time right now”. If you think for a minute on that, and examine it, and cogitate about it for however long it takes you, for a light to flash on inside your Britney brains; TV or no TV, ambulance drivers in World War 2 all notwithstanding here; you will indeed see a lot of both of these truths; the time travel one that I did not make up, along with what I have said here as well, YO!! Wow folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In other freaking words, as long as one part of our 5-D beingness, is this advanced, then our entire being collectively, is kind of a TYPE-3-EXPT in stasis, if no better way of seeing this truth can be achieved. Again, another WOW. This is just like the revelation given to me by an unnamed person not long ago at all, regarding my dream-music, and explaining how dangerous the “YBCO” tune is, even if it does not contain the harmony track, possibly. At first, the original, “GITYA” tune from 1983 would not be, but as with my LIFE-CHARTS, as explained upon numerous occasion; once I started them, my days are rated in ones through fives every day, until I am dead as the me who I am right now; whether I consciously rate these days or not, it is quantized in a magical and quite mysterious quantum foam, that contains all of the half alive and half dead cats in the cosmos as well, excluding Professor Gaukauk of course, WEEEE. OK, It’s time, MMCN!!!!!!!! But this is where we left off a while ago, and now, ‘this is’ the proper time to move things along, and did I just say, ‘TH-IS-IS’, old buddy from late 1969, and schoolmate, and ‘BOOK OF BEACH’ burner, Sir RUSSELL TH—AXTON?????????????????????????? WOW indeed, Thaxton and Thisis, and no Doctor Jim Garrigan sir, and buddy, from those same days of my past; not ‘thesis’, and yes; I am very sorry I was indirectly responsible for your failed college paper and needing to repeat that course, maybe if you believe in Morianity, you will be angry at the errors made by your professors back then at the New Jersey Rutgers University Camden Campus, but if you don’t believe in Morianity and me, then you are saying to yourself right about now and recently so, ”Wow, I guess they failed me for a good reason”. Still, you must live with that decision for the rest of your life as the dude that you are at this present time, and I assure you, that is not the real you. Taking this now down to a lowest common denominator, and real simple few sentences; would go like this, believers, and others from Missouri. I never ever intended to say or to mean, that every single thing claimed in Morianity, is coming from the people in our localized reality; but because so much powerful fucking ass shit does fit together, and so much shit has been done to wipe me out; especially each and every time with a clockwork Swiss precision, that I try and expose these truths to the world; just as ‘UFO-BUFFS’ of the past, tried exposing their stuff, throughout lots of recent history. Look what the fucking shit keeps happening. I mean really people, can you believe in your fucking ass heart of all hearts, that first, anyone alive; me, Patterson, Dream Works, anyone, anywhere; could make up anything that is this fantastic, as these blogs of nearly 7 and a half fucking years? Then I must move to the next question that cannot help but arise like a teenaged boy’s prick when three naked young honies are in his bedroom. Why would all the people in some huge twisted group of about 2500 beyond outlandishly distantly related cousins that you will never prove through Ancestry Dot Com, and can only be ascertained through the Church of the Mormons and my pals the Hair’s, a while back; but why, ‘why Jimmy why’, are all these peeps acting the way they are, doing the things that they are; and I could go on and on? Now this is exactly what many many of my blogs are doing, unfortunately, with little positive results for poor old pathetic mother fucking little old cursed victim ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If all you want to look at here, is Ann and Dawn King, and Robert McGuire; eliminating about 90+% of other powerful shit; we could not miss this reality, and this pattern of bizarre behavior against me, with these twisted fucked up lovelies. They destroyed and ruined my entire life, AND THEY ARE NOT DONE WITH ME, not by a long shot, Mister Super Perry White Louigee Hangups Kent!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! W—O—W, does this asshole ever forget anything? DUH, that may be what eventually sinks WOMO’s dam ship, YO. Time again if you want to, Mike McNulty, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Look great folks, I never said in three dimensions, all these wonderful persons have done all these things; but you cannot go dismissing stuff, and living in the caves forever. Not when Morianity has come along so fucking ass faithfully now, and explained all this great shit to the dam human race for so long, and it does have validity. I have posted the hatepage on me, I have posted a record of my song copyrights. What do you want, Roseann? Yeah, I know! Like DUH!!!!!! So before we move along with some really powerful shit, look at the market chart moving along if you catch this blog before four of the clock, it shows real time Dow Jones price movements, and shows that I deal with a family who walk through time the way I walk through rooms in my abode. If this does not deserve a quintessential WOW, what the mother fucking shit eating hell does then, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,, Morians and Lessians, etcetera?
YES, I TOLD YOU GINA, AND ALL OTHERS OUT HERE; WOW.
YOU KNOW I TOLD YOU THIS, AND IT WILL BE 40K BY 2015.

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Now, after you read my re-print, we can continue on with a lot of powerful things regarding powerful MCGUIRE, and his magic parking lots, guns, and bullets, right Jack Ken?????? Would this be the WOW to end all WOW’s or is the three letter word spelled a letter off here, Senator Warren, sir???

This is a re-print from my earliest blogging times in OHM-6:

WHO ARE THE ENEMIES, DISCUSSED IN THE EPILOGUE OF THE MORIANITY BIBLE FOR MILLENNIUM-3?

THIS IS A RE-PRINT FROM THE DARK SAHDOWY PAST OF MY PITIFUL MISERABLE NIGHTMARE MONSTER HORRENDOUS LIFE OF ENDLESS STRIFE AND WOE!

Friday, August 25, 2006

Morianity Bible, The Epilogue:

Enemies, who R they? They are any situation made up of a pure energy that is unidentifiable by mortal man as yet in 2K6. Anything, anyone, any possible situation, causing U or me, more harm than good, more bad and sad than happy, U get the idea, this is ‘the enemy’ and Christians can use one or a group of several names when referring to this enemy, but I say only, ‘the ENEMY’.

My friends in the real estate and travel game, and one in particular, is looking into where I need to go in the world, where I can reduce the evil effects of this enemy; and B able simultaneously, to live and exist on my fixed social security income. Until then, still from here, I will direct U to follow the MB after U read the epilogue, by clicking onto the second blog, called [ MORIANITY FOUNDATION ].

A child can C that has been faithfully following MORIANITY, and knows what I go through with these rotten runtslapping subskummites, that for the past 3 weeks, these dirtballs have put my puny pathetic little fatass through a hell that would be unconscionable even for Adolph Hitler, himself, and I mean this. No human without outer influence, by his or her self, even Mr. Hitler; could ever B this totally cruel to another, whom wears the same coat of flesh as they do!!!!!

This is obviously Y the stock stinking market has been getting its way, and the Phillies kept from ever getting into the wild-card. When they get close, 1, 2, or 3 games back GB so to speak from winning position, the enemy POURS ON THE FRIGGIN ROCKCHUCKING PERSECUTION, AND STOPS THEM DEAD IN THEIR TRACKS EVERY SINGLE BUNTTAPPING TIME. They made yesterday, the 24th of August, a horrific hell; major chopper attacks, over my residence, following me to the Hammonton Wall Mart, U name it; they efed with me. But I am not even starting to tell what they do 2 me on weekends @ my security job post. The aerial persecution is major and constant, and many strange and spurious occurrences are the norm for me. Someone in government circles, another famous ‘promise breaking story I can endlessly tell’, reneged and would not do something promised me earlier, that they would have someone actually sit with me, and C 4 themselves; the shitsapookna that I must endure at the hands of these knock puckers. No, just leave me out in the cold to fend 4 myself, and endlessly suffer in a hell that U simply put, could never even fathom for all the pick six lotto numbers in the winning pool.

Last Saturday morning on this job post around one and a half of the clock, give or take a quarter hour, I had a real honest to the gods UFO situation, and this never was witnessed by me before, not like this. Any craft flying in the air, that U don’t know who and what it is, is by definition, an unidentified flying object, but though in the past 22 years or so give or take, I have seen some mildly bizarre crap up in the sky, this happening could have an entire book written about it; and if I lie, I accept full pain and penalty of perjury, an any and all punitation that this material world, and all astral worlds, both transdimensionally and inter-dimensionally, can ever throw at me, on top of all my hell, that exists 4 me, endlessly and forever. Most will not believe a word that I will now speak unto U. If I sat U down and said that I want 2 tell U something, but you’ll never believe me, and U kept insisting that U will believe me; then I would say 2 U, if U do not believe me in a little thing that I say, does it not prove and verify that U will not believe the bigger thing? Then U may say, what little thing am I not believing? I then would respond, “when I tell U that U won’t believe what I say”. Think about it, there is magic energy in doubting; just as magical energies exist in this short pun. In any event, out of nowhere, a loud and very low chopper with many bright and numerously colored lights shinning around both in circles, as well as straight downward at the ground, and it hovered and circled around me making several loud and spurious passes directly over me and my car, as I work out of my car, and will, until the boss builds us a guardhouse, which is a plan in work at present. Aniwho, rabies and germs, Morians and Lessians, I feel the need to state again to all of my readers, or maybe just to an empty cyberspace, that what follows next, has, nor won’t soon have, nor B able to yield an Earthly explanation. After ten minutes of fudging with me, it flew off the the north and towards the city of Hammonton. I followed it with the naked eye as long as I thought I would B able 2 do so. After 3 or 4 minutes, it appeared to stop dead in its tracks and just hover over the city area, moving back and forth east and west over slighter distances, and eventually just totally stopping dead, but shinning its lights brighter and brighter, and the colors faded a bit due to distance, but still were visible to the naked eye. I keep a tape recorder at all times, and was logging the event or so I thought I was, on a cassette tape, but it never came out. A brand new store bought tape, recording on a new and recently cleaned with isopropal alcohol and demagnetization cassette; had wrapped up in the capstan mechanism of the tape machine; and I was talking only to myself, not friggin’ recording anything. Later my watched gained 45 minutes over the course of an hour, and an explosion sound was heard when I started my car, but the mechanic on the following Monday, again and as usual; could find no Earthly reason for it, nor a thing mechanically wrong with the auto other than its being old and crying out for a good car-Christian burial. R U ready 4 the big one Mister Fred Sanford????? After 20 minutes from when the chopper flew off and stopped bothering and circling me, dead zenith above me, it became, yes BECAME, a pulsar star of the heavens, in fact, the bright one that we all C on clear nights, that if U stare at it; flashes with every color in the rainbow; and is bright and in varying luminous intensity. The star itself, which is an astral city called HYDRAGLACIA, far beyond the province of Olympia on the Astral Plane, literally came to me, in the shape and sound of a military helicopter; and then within less than half of a human hour; traversed thousands of light years of distance, and returned to being the astral city again. All physical plane stars, are huge cities, with great populations in the trillions, on astral realms; as if enough citizens all decide to merge into a particular piece of interaction of Astrality, they do; and now I know this 4 a fact. I also know with the same absolute knowledge and fervor, and total certainty; that an ETTOSIAN force is behind my not getting one person; not 1 lousy person with clout, who sees a huge lawsuit in all of this, after scanning through MB. These enemies of mine all have very deep pockets, and have committed unconscionable acts of violence, property damage, social and human destruction, against me, a totally pathetic whittle innocent victim, as I swear to the gods that I never did anything 2 any one 2 deserve this. B real, if they had something big on me, legitimately, I would have long been sued for libel and slander, and prosecuted criminally. I’ve done nothing. I’m guilty of no more than being a victim of some atrocious low-ego emission cult activity. Art Bell, who now is retired, said on Philadelphia talk radio, the big talker 1210 Amplitude Modulation, on 1.21 megahertz, that there R bored-2-tears people especially in the Los Angelis, Cali area, of the USA; that get approached by ‘someone, most likely fortune tenners’, and all fortune 10 through 50, are LAMIST CULTERS, and they get shown ways of really playing evil games, and hurting people; that have been targeted for their amusement and pleasure; nothing personal, to harass, and persecute us. The few of us in the large population, know who indeed we R. Medical conditions that cannot be diagnosed, come to U, and all those around U, deer to U; major constant interference with radio, TV, computer operations, or anything electrical, and mechanical; always seems to go wrong and or act up in some way. People mess with U on the road, way more than the average driver is messed with. All products U normally buy in stores, get harder to get, as flash-mobs buy up the stuff that U like, and the list goes literally on and on, but again; we of the harassed, know who we are, and we are not RANDOMIZED JOESHMO SYNDROME CASES. The black cloud over our heads is being put there, by the filthy dirty lowlife trash that are referred to in MORIANITY BIBLE by their true cult name of ‘LAMIST’. Dark Shadows refers 2 them precisely, but changes the name to LEVIATHINS, and this still got the greatest soap-show of all time, canceled; so who really has the power, huh? who love’s ya, Telly????

They threw me off of MYSPACE.COM, if I ain’t mistaken. I was told I do not seem to B there, by some acquaintances, and 2-day, upon looking myself; I only get a strange pop-up screen when I put in my code and E-mail info. Gonna’ write to civil liberties, as this will play right into my hands, once I indeed do confirm that I am not legally permitted to tell my true story, when others are allowed, and I am expressing religious beliefs, and telling of horrific deeds that have been done 2 me; that totally are in violation of law, my civil liberties, and constitutional rights, as a citizen born in the United States of America. I have done nothing wrong. First I am interested only in women, w+ell beyond the legal age. Multiply it by 3 quite realistically, and I do not support anything subversive, anti-government, violent, or terroristic. Taken out of contest, anybody’s damn words and message can be misconstrued and misunderstood. One example is when I say on a chapter somewhere in July I believe, that if U actually knew what I did for a fact, the way that I do; concerning and regarding the Lamists, you would go out and obliterate them, and u would. I have seen mob lynchings, and 2006 is no more civilized than 1806. It is just way more regulated, way less free; and much closer to when Mister Lewis and Mister Clark made the Louisiana Purchase. There is no runt slapping humor here babywuv, I’m dead-ass serious. No one has any legal right to shut me up or shut me down, and I will fucking take this all the way 2 the Supreme Court, before the 9 Justices. I’m not playing. U will not stop me, as I am doing no wrong, wrong is being constantly done 2 me, and I have every right to try and get it exposed 2 the world.

Lamists R the 1’s that should B thrown the Christ into jail, not innocents, and poor weak frail persons like me; with no resources in the world, to fight these dick in the mouths back, on their level; in this very Unfair, and Unlevel playing field, of this land of FAKE JUSTICE, real only for the rich, right Jack McCoy????????? So MB is now over, but my attempts to begin my MORIANITY FOUNDATION, have only just begun, Ms. Carpenter. Luv is for more than her, great Sarah-Stacey. Your son taught us 200 decades ago, it should B4 all of us, as in your great city, where love flows free; and no one would think of using words like orgy. Your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Krassle, told me many times; there R no marriages in Sahasra Dal Kanwal, we all love all. Yet they turn around and chase me away from my beautiful lovely queen, and then your kid calls the human pharisees a bunch of hypocrites. Jeese, I guess I am not yet old enough to understand a lot of things, I am only eternity. Well, anyway, click on MORIANITY FOUNDATION, to read my next blog, after going of course to http://www.blogger.com/ and you’ll watch something grow, bigger than a forest of Redwood trees. Someday, all I need will B 1 person with power and clout, who has niceness and goodness in their isness of being somewhere; instead of Trumpism, Reaganism, and Lamistism; all 3 very wide astral highways that lead straight into regions of Dogtown, a place U do not want any part of, across the great Teck Bay, from the great city of the great Queen Sarah-Stacey. A final footnote that my guru brought 2 my attention 3 weeks ago, and must B now cleared up. He said that many people may get the idea that I am an internet perv or predator, whatever, just since I am old, and talk so much about ‘teen-queens’. I reminded him, as I now remind both my Morians and my Lessians alike, to do the friggin math, for the sake of the gods. My teen queens are the women of today, the grandmothers. They were teens when your stupid calendar was reading [the sixties], get your minds out of the sewers of France, I am no perv, and am no more interested in women much under 60, than I am interested in eating loose dog shit. Cut me a break, please, and then go to the MORIANITY FOUNDATION, and this is 25 August of 2K6, so remember, it is just starting. Happy Hacker reading and keep driving on parkways and parking on driveways, and watch out for ettosianism, the original STAR TREK creator, MR. G.R. knew this was real, and got it all in through the back door calling the aliens pertaining to what I am talking about, the Tallosions, happy 40th anniversary Trekkers, Trek on, rock on, and enemies beware, I will get all of U, and legally and properly, but like the Swiffer Mop, I will get you, get you, get u, and that is a promise that you may B forewarned of right now.

By By for now, big KAL.

TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS are people who are dreaming. They have a body asleep in a bed, the same as you and me, only you and me for the very most part are considered by them to be, mere, TYPE-1-EXPLORATRONS (T-1-E), verses them being (T-3-E). Let me shorten it please, good folks and MB’s, (Morianity-Believers), thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LSS, they can willingly choose to walk into the lives of their doubles or (doppelgangers) in parallel realities or (transdimensional universes) in the vast fifth dimensional hyperspace. This is no joking matter, MC’s mother is the greatest T-3-E in the known multiverse, and so of course is MC, and also, the third part of their awesomeness, designer and architect master of the entire system below the sixth dimensional MIND REALM ITSELF, the (6-TH-Dimension), and this would be the subatomic particle that decides what to make any and every element in existence, simply by dancing around a little orbit or circle, in a certain cool way, a private coded way as a matter of fact, only without any need of creating the international Mobile Machines corporation in order to do so, in fact, this process, as all processes, are reversed here, truth seems to insist upon coming to humans awake here, in total reverse. It really does InSISt upon this, and there is nothing wrong with your television set, or my keyboard back there, but we are no where near the maxed out outer limits of telling the entire story of everything. In fact, it can never be told. It is that incredible, and that times the power of infinity. No say ‘screw that’, and you, by pure mathematics, ARE SCREWED! To be able to transform yourself to even a T-2-E, the in-between stage before beginning to be able to do the great feats of the great ISIS-MIDDIE-SCYLLA-SSJKKIMS, or just for as easy to pronounce grouping of letters, we can say, Sajikems, funny, sort of like the Next Generation Star Trek, and Nikki Cox, that adorable little alien child and Mister Data Android’s friend, Sarjenka. Do I hear another W-O-W, as if not, I am typing to dead people, and I thought that I was fucking dead and maggots? Yes Microsoft Spell-Checker, I do not know just how ”saint-like’ all of this talk is, but I do have powerful knowledge, straight from the fucking astral heavens, to impart with this cave age world, and that times a million more that never ever will be fully told, it is totally endless folks, I promise a lot more than lovely MO, and congrats on all that weight loss, you go lovely girl, and don’;t let git bag distant cuzz Donnie boy fire you, tell him I’ll kick his face off if he does!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But getting back to just a few things on today’s whittle bwog folks, before any of you call me a total kook whack job, if I am not on the level, why is the biggest entertainment giant checking me out, take a look hard here and see it for yourselves, then refresh the page and click into the system and go back into this page that will now be pasted in, and see that I did not paste it in, it is there, on the official records, I am not some dam nut, despite the government InSISting on paying me monthly for being one my friends, month after month, and just ‘how many times’ all notwithstanding, on all days on or off of 10/05/2008. Sure, you can all lie to yourselves from here to Harold Camping’s next bullshit predicted doomsday, and beyond. The last laugh of the McNulty Club belongs to myself and perhaps, Mister Icabod Crane, right © Office???

Public Catalog
Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

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Full Title
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[ 1 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
For the record.
PAu000662409
1984
[ 2 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
I'm Criana.
PAu000724397
1985
[ 3 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.
PAu003351785
2007
[ 4 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Last number repeat–100 progression roulette system.
TXu000514390
1992
[ 5 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Lost love.
PAu000344219
1981
[ 6 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection, set 4.
PAu000546149
1983
[ 7 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection : set III.
PAu000442785
1982
[ 8 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo tunes.
PAu000325091
1981
[ 9 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr tunes.
PAu000411864
1982
[ 10 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Queen of blue.
PAu000825471
1986
[ 11 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Real good girl.
PAu000881543
1986
[ 12 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.
PAu002506106
2000
[ 13 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Saga of song writer Mark Mud.
PAu000501582
1983
[ 14 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
PAu002153196
1996
[ 15 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
SRu000332786
1996
[ 16 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah Callio of ACNJ.
SRu000362114
1997
[ 17 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Uncle.
PAu000540585
1983
[ 18 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
What's wrong?
PAu000724407
1984
[ 19 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
You call this music?
PAu000998574
1987
[ 20 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.
PAu001148157
1988
[ 21 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.
PAu001189027
1989
[ 22 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204017
1980
[ 23 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204015
1980
[ 24 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity music pre-book.
PAu002336935
1998
[ 25 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity tunes of 1998.
PAu002282717
1998

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Public Catalog
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Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 26 through 28 of 28 entries.

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[ 26 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204016
1980
[ 27 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Same title.
PAu003037983
2005
[ 28 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Thanx to the shadows.
PAu002237985
1997

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But it's time to move this on with the dream-controllers. It is old news for old followers of MORIANITY, to hear the basic stuff, so for newbies to this blog, I will repeat older stuff later, this is a more advanced lesson that continues on from all of the previous left-off-points, for right now, YO! The T-3-E is able to not only dominate and become the controller of the double of themselves, but eventually can leave that part of the dream in a parallel world, and go onto attach into animals and other people not their own double. Also, with patience and practice, it gets far better, as they can stay in someone while they go off to sleep and follow them into their dreams, only still in full control, now of two worlds, and then 3, and 4, and so on, and there are several already known cases discussed in 2294 up in World Labs, of 15 people in deep coma type trances for years, who have become either stuck or else have chosen to be where they are, stuck however, if they have forgotten the exact way back out of the control-maze. You cannot just move three dreams and universes away and then in one, just come out of it and back here. You will not get this powerful information from any other source on the internet or any other place above or below ground on this entire planet. Now we all have participated in a little 'accidental' T-3-E' activity in our life, aware of it or not, remember some do not evenrecall dreaming at all or hardly ever; but my point is that, unless they are the ones intentionally doing it, they are just caught up in some real T-3-E who is causing them to be the recessant who they are the dominant entity over, and for whatever reason, you manged a tiny bit of control over things if only just to the point of some memory of the experience upon 'awakening' from 'slumber'. There are no limits to what these T-3-E can do, they are called by me, T-3-E, they are called by all NON-MORIAMS, the GODS, or the ET aliens/travelers, but in real truth, and I think the NSA and the top military brass know this, it is all just a huge parlor game, played by those who have manged to become extremely adept at nocturnal control over hyperspace, the virtually limitless region of four dimensional space-time universes, all containing quintillions of Planet Earths, only not more worlds, but this one Earth, in different locations in each of the hyperspace's 4th dimension, or TIME. A really advanced T-3-E can create a giant air vessel, I do it all the time myself and go around bombing out my enemies, and then afterwards, comes the powerful storms and quakes, and many other things. I am not proud of what I do, and there is a lot more to it. Still, I do admit, that power corrupts, and I would not want any more than I already have, I have no desire to be a full member in their club, or part of the ES, the great EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND. When you are, you will understand however, how to do anything you want, with the only limitations being when you return to your own physical waking life. You see all the powerful wealthy successful people, from lottery winners to great stars of screen and music, and all of it, they really have other identities elsewhere, and they can enjoy their dreams right here, but there are places where these great gods really do awaken into a world of drudgery, their REAL WORLS, where you or I for all we know may be their boss, and be treating them like shit all day while they clean toilets and get honked off the freeway while dead tired and trying to drive home ion major traffic congestion, to a nagging spouse and rammy annoying children greeting them screaming in their ear. Guess what, ISIS just looked over my shoulder and is not happy with my blog, telling too much, it flashed off, but on the dam screen came the words in front of my typing, FBI, “THAT-BOY-STOP TELLING SO MUCH”. I re-typed it, it came out in font about that size, in bright red, underlined and slanted. The second it flashed on, it flashed off, and then my phone rang with the following number on it, 1800-226-1843. When I checked after the ringing stopped, no message was left on the voicemail. However, and get ready to remembver the days I lived up in the fuckin g hood when BOO called me from the Rock Road County Jail here in my county, Saint Lucie County Jail, his number at the jail stayed on, but guess who vanished off. Yesterday at exactly 4:11 PM, Thursday, a call came in from out of ther area, and all though my phone is blocked not to accept a ring from anyone blocking their name and number, just as before, when the letters “PRIVATE PERSON” showed up when I got that call from the 650 area code in middle late winter in twenty-eleven, a few months after the call from BOO came in, and once the phone display showed the total number, it vanished and could n ot be retrieved off of the system, and also, it dispalyed in a bright pink color that should not be possible on my AT%T Walmart telephone, a landline telephone. Yes, no name, no number, just UNAVAILABLE, and it came in at 4:11, but at the very end of the number area, was a digit, a one, only it looked a lot more like a | than a 1. Now the record of this event has been wiped clear. Oh lovely ISIS, I will always worsghip you, love you, and need you, BUT THE GODS KNOW, I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND YOU, brown eyed girl, KALISIS.I have known this mother-daughter-electron GODDESS by a hundred million names, and every fucking jerk off country music esecutive knows this truth about me, and jknows of my song that got a lot of fucking ass airplay back in 1998, and continued getting foreign airplay for years until around 2004 give or take, called, and copyrighted by me, “Eternity With Stacey”. The titles that show up on my copyrighted project record sheet, pasted into many of my blogs, merely are the title for an entire group of songs on the project, manty times the title track is for the main song of the group collection, but not always. In the case of the project in middle 1986 called “REAL GOOD GIRL, see for yourself, it was the title track, and more songs than this were on the tape, such as PLANES, HIGHVIEW CHEERS, and others. Also I fucked up a few months ago and said I did 2 projects in 1983, you can see by the official copyright office record, I did 3 of them, not 2, DEMO COLLECTION 4, SAGA OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD, and UNCLE, and again, with UNCLE, the title track in for one of an entire collection of songs on that project, and the main one was called, “Uncles On Bending Knees”. Yes, Donald Trump, you may indeed have a marvelous life, to quote you oh mighty buttwipe sir, but I have a life so fantastic and unfathomable, that you would give your daughter and your limbs and you know it you old ugly ass hole, to truly understand me, the one who brought you here on that magic tape recorder of mine back in when else, but I crossed over your miserable rotten personality in 1984, give or take around there, and you then went onto to build your first casino and take over that rotten Atlantic City that many have called Gomorrah by the sea, and I have labeled in my song of the 1986 project, and copyrighted, as you know, OCEANS SODOM! And guess who just called back, ISIS, at 2:57, with the same UNAVASILABVLE, AND THE SAME | AT THE END OF THE BOTTOM RIGHT OF THE id-SCREEN. SO TELL ME PEEPS, IS A MOTHER FUCKING CUNT LAPPING SUPER ASS ''W—O—W'' APPROPRIATE HERE OR 'NAUGHT', MISS AT%T BLAKE OF 1983????????????????

Here is the situation, Inspector Louigee Kent Henderson. Nothing just happens, all things happen for reasons, and random is merely a disguised pattern, on a grand cosmic scale. There are math formulas that are extremely complex that force those in the know, to in fact realize that the words spoken here are true and accurate. These folks cannot come out and just say this on TV, or other media sources, and alter society in a flash. It is way too controlled for that to ever be permitted to happen. Only certified looney folks such as myself can say these things, and then when they do, who listens? We are all looney, remember?

All of my dam life, I have tried for the very most part, to remain totally out of trouble. I try to go through every day taking the least amount of unnecessary risks, and never try to make enemies. I am not nor have I ever been, that typical bar guy looking for trouble, you know, a chip on the shoulder syndrome, despite with each passing year since boyhood, if anyone had a legitimate ass chip, it would be me. On more than one occasion, I have had the following words spoken to me by those who get to know me, paraphrased and not in precise quotations; it is as though you actually are trying to have the most miserable life in the world, or it is like you are trying to lose as much as you can in life when we know it is not the case. My pernt, sir Archibald Queen Bunker and others is simply that my nightmare is and has been, legitimately been recognized throughout the years, and by numerous non mentally disabled folks, and yet, this does not aid me in my situation, or in being believed by anyone with clout that would count, as only those type of individuals could be in a potential position, to ever expose the real covert problems involved; and then hopefully, go on to repair my life, through repairing these situations/problems/cosmic assaults upon my life, etcetera and whatever you may wish to label all of this.

Folks, there are some out here and especially the ones who never bothered to know the beginning of my blogs, the first nearly two and a half years, before the HYPERSPACE ALTERATION, that a moronic child with a dam runny dirty nose could see, if they would merely take off their GWPOS-BLINDERS for a dam ass second; and just look head on and straight into this thing; only my luck just ain't that of the wonderful great IRISH, and 'that's 4 sure', and I ain't driving. Good believers out there, I was not back in Mullica Township in my mobile home, looking to be kidnapped by some very wonderful adorable kind loving people, nor was my desire to lose all of my worldly goods, and go gallivanting off into a cold wintry snowy night, into the darkness, and away from what was familiar to me for five and a half decades. This was done to me, by a mother fucker who will not rest until he takes over the WHITE HOUSE, and destroys any possible chance for America to be what it was designed to be, free, a land of opportunity, a place for basically happy people to live and interact, with an American dream, and most of you would fail the quiz on exactly what that is. Many think it means a home, a car, and a job paying double minimum wage or better. Many have many other ideas. But only about a quarter of the American population knows exactly what it officially means, so I will tell those who need to know. The American dream means that every generation will leave to the next generation, a better place, a place with a little bit or even a lot, but at least a little bit MORE, than we had in the current generation while we lived here. THAT IS THE OFFICIAL AMERICAN DREAM. Every 20th and 21st century American President, knows this, write to the White House and ask if I am lying to you, should you not trust me. Just how long has the American Dream been DEAD some may wonder. Well, as with all things, it is sort of a general average, so count out the entitled luxury owner demigod EW crowd, Corporate execs and other extremely wealthys out there, the '99ers' in case any of the OCCUPY GROUP still exist, as I think the movement died some time back, or at least they seemed to allow themselves to die in the media, and perhaps have all gone underground. The dead are all underground too, so that tells us everything without my needing to carry on this great conversation any further. Now before I totally ruin the day of Mizz Terry Nonscatterbrain Harborheads, of Egg Harbor City, New Jersey, USAESMWG; this blog will move around a lot, and maybe some grinding and gear replacements might be necessary, about 130 days ahead of schedule if we back things up about half a decade, yes Mike McNulty, you may; but moving on; this example right here for those who know what's being discussed, is a wonderful example of my point at present moment. People in every universe, block out painful memories. How can the field of psychiatry ever start to grow as exciting as it really could, unless we add in all of the appropriate necessary additional real dimensions to reality that Astral-Plane dream down folks, or us, are interacting in in what you otherwise may think of as waking-hyperspace. Before moving on, I was given a major CRAMPANA ATTACK today, to quote the late great Mister David Charles Roth, so I will have to break off for another shit attack now, and will be back in 20 minutes or so, good people. Now I'm back at 17 minutes shy of one in the morning. To you, this time never passed, but to me, I was in the bathroom crapping out my guts for the third time today. Except for this, all was quite OK for me on the holiday weekend, other than for normal horse shit nabe action from time to time off and on, back on the first two days of the holiday, yelling and doors and typical stupidity, but nothing real bad or real long lasting. Let's move this right along.

First off, I need to tell you that I had quite a wild talk the other night or as you may look at it, while dreaming; with the great Almighty Goddess, MIDDIE, and I am more convinced than ever, that this is as close to human truth as we can ever get in waking brain interaction. There was a powerful early 20th century discovery that is known the world over, energy equals mass times the speed of light squared. The inverse of this equation is way more urgent however, for humans to concern themselves with, and that would be energy equals mass divided by the speed of light squared. There is no magic to squaring, take a square, and see how it has four sides, so if each side of the square's perimeter is say 4 inches, the old well established geometric truth is the perimeter or the total length of the square if it was all taken apart and turned into one straight line, is P=S4. When a number is next to a letter, it means in basic simple algebra, we multiply. So four inches on all sides is 4X4 or a perimeter of 16 inches. It really is just that simple, only mass and energy is a bit more complex, yet I am going to tell you a simple truth about it. Nothing is real, NOTHING. NOTHING is WHAT IS REAL. It works both ways, ladies and gentlemen. In the TRUTH of all things, the very sentence as I just pluralized it, makes it become inaccurate. So in the TRUTH, there is VOID, a lack of any dimension, or another way that I have said it throughout my many blogs, is ''ZERO-DIMENSION''. There is no mass and no energy, there is no space and there is no time, there is only TRUTH or if you prefer, EXISTENCE. Taking it to a less philosophical way of putting it, I then go on to add the initials of EWI, and they stand for Existence Without Interaction, not to get Mayor Bloomberg too excited, and don't anyone let him bullshit you and tell you that him and his three city newspapers, do not know exactly what I am saying here. They would be lying if they said they don't know, I still have the dam newspaper, and that's as far as we need to go. Some few things managed, by providence or whatever; to survive my trip down here, to freaking Florida, in middle December of 2009. Now the inverse of the famous Albert Einstein formula is what matters, once things all got started, and this would be a huge Moby dick sized blog in and of itself, so let us skip it good people. But once we did become the original energy that managed to dream out and away from the void total nothingness, certain things did happen, and that as well would require a lesson book the size of ten or so of Tolstoy's great novels. So screw that for right now. Once an Astral-Plane existed, all of the unique individual people that we think we all are here in fifth dimensional hyperspace, as you are reading these words right now, are really existing on this higher reality where atoms vibrate much faster than they do anywhere in the hyperspace below that contains virtually limitless 4-D universes, each one designed to create one LIFE-WORLD, the entire universe is a perfectly structured engineering marvel, that is necessary, just to create one planet that can sustain the type of life that we all are, whether anyone out here wants to hear this powerful truth or not. However, there are more parallel universes and parallel EARTH worlds, than there are stars in the sky, and vigintillions times that amount, and yet still more and more and more. In this hyperspace, are not only all possible worlds but in all possible times, relative to what we think of right now, as right now to us. Don't even try breaking your mind into pretzel city worrying about this, and let me just get back to the inverted great formula. This would be M=E divided by C SQ. M means MASS, E means ENERGY, and C means the CONSTANT, and this constant is LIGHT VELOCITY. This super cool dude figured out that mass and energy are like Kent and Superman, one and the same thing, except for the fact that they change clothes, or in the world of physics, they either are the twin of themselves when multiplying by C-SQ or dividing by C-SQ. But we are not trying to win the Second World War and make any nuke bombs, so we are now more concerned with the not so famous flip- side of the great Brady kiss, and that is that this magical thing called human consciousness, is somehow quite miraculously, taking the realer energy world that the Astral-Plane is made of, and dividing the full reality of it and our awareness as it, by C SQUARED. Now we can get born into a physical mass or matter-body, and exist and interact in a world of material tangible objects. This of course is pure illusion, and when this dream-down off of the Astral-Plane appears to end by a physical body no longer alive and moving, and able to catch time's reflection, or light; as in biblical reference thousands of years back, when referring to the ''quick and the dead''; that is what we all in our limited minds, perceive as death, or go as far as calling physical-death. Our mind in various levels of consciousness is therefore giving us the ability to exist in this dream with a unique personality and life, in a space-time continuum, where without this, we could have no interaction. The Astral Energy life is totally opposite of this. There, you need the interaction first, and then that interaction is what actually goes on to CREATE the Space and the Time, in a sort of starry and dreamy way, that conscious mind could never fully hold or grasp, as it is tuned to this physical realm of direct opposite reality or a lower truth, if you will, again, biblically following the great words of wisdom from prophets, who proclaim that here in this life, we all see through a glass, dimly. Don't take me at my word, ask your preacher or read it for yourselves. Now I need to move onto more religion, only it will not sound at all like what you'll get in a church on a Sunday or at a Wednesday prayer meeting, I assure you.

I do not proclaim to have a lot of answers, but I do have life experiences that do not equal the vast majority. I've come to share them on a blog for about seven and a half years now, and called this project MORIANITY, but this is not as new as the start of 2006. It began late in 1995, in Williamstown, the place where I was suddenly influenced and drawn to the Almighty Goddess Herself, or 'MIDDIE' if you will, M-D-E (MOTHER-DAUGHTER-ELECTRON). All truths seem to reverse on the material world, for reasons that even elude me and Morianity so far, but I know that this is the truth nonetheless. This is of course one reason why most folks insist on the MALE dominance of all things, when without the female, how would any creation go on past one single generation? Men may despise that concept, but just prove me wrong on this fact, and I'll eat a hat full of dog shit for all of you,, at Macy's front window on Christmas Eve, with all the media coverage the pops can throw at me. I know what I know, and only what I know, nothing else, and nothing less. I know that I was shown a powerful truth over the holiday weekend, with two powerful interactions on two separate nights. I was forced to recall a repressed memory upon one of these two occasions, and now realize that when I empowered that Mountain Dew glass bottle on Magnesonic, and made it become the IO (image-object), of Sarah Krassle, it was the early summer evening of August 14, 1986. Once it was broken in the basement on the hard floor, despite it being wrapped in numerous sheets of paper, and a face drawn on it as well as her name printed on it, Dave Roth and myself then proceeded to take this destroyed IO down to Long Beach Island, somewhere a bit south of the Causeway where you cross over onto the island from the mainland, and the only bridge ever built to my knowledge; and we went to the beach and it was around 10-11 at night, and it was warm and calm and dark with bright stars all around above us, and we dug a deep hole in the sand, put this IO down into it, Dave and I expectorated onto it and then we took our feet, and covered up the hole. Instantly, the waves got very rough out at sea, and the wind began to blow very hard. Clouds covered the stars within what seemed a minute or two, and an icy cold chill came from the water and we suddenly were icy cold. We returned to my home at 1931 Route 70, (Marlton Pike) in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, USA, Earth, Sol, Milky Way Galaxy, (ESMWG), and got home shortly before midnight. Before I got home, I began to get a horrible painful earache out of the blue, and asked Dave if he wanted to go over to the Garden State Hospital on Route 73, but he was tired and went back to the house, got into his car and drove home. This was the end of my life as I knew it forever and forever. The clock struck midnight, and my ear felt as though Mike Tyson punched it as well as bit it off. I was suddenly in excruciating pain, and drove myself to the hospital where I was given some drops for it, and some pain medication and antibiotics. Around 2 in the morning, I drove home after stopping at an all night pharmacy nearby. I drove home, and crashed into bed. I had the most incredible interaction or dreaming-experience of my entire life, rivaling even the early June of 1980 one with SSJKK singing the song at the foot of Tennessee Avenue and the boardwalk's on-ramp, called, “LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS”. It was now 6 years and two plus months later than that, it was the morning of the fifteenth day in August, in 1986. This was the day that life STOPPED for me, FOREVER, and was altered for me, F—-O—-R—-E—-V—-E—R!!!!!!! All this time, I had remembered this as happening a few days after my trip into the Big Apple, with David, the night that he wanted to see his music group at some downtown nightclub, called, “NEW SHOES”. Allow the pathetic Babylonian King of New Shoes, to now tell you some more of this horrific disaster ass nightmare, AKA KING NEBNOOSHOO at C-SQ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was remembering it wrong. SSJKK showed me a calendar and pointed with an edict and a frightening expression on her lovely face, full of anger and wrath; and she made me come to realize how I had angered her so much, first at the Medport Diner in the spring time of 1986, by telling David about her and some of the stuff about the 1969 wild dream she had given me and the Book of the Beach, and all of it. Then I went onto try killing her, with Magnesonic. This, she said is not going to be forgiven until a lot of suffering is done on my part, and I find a way to make things right. She asked me to remember a particular sentence that was said to me just 12 days earlier in New York City, when she came up to my car that night around half past ten, and I had been relaxing in the passenger seat and David was inside of the nightclub. Instantly I remembered and it made no sense in 1986 and I dismissed it and never thought of it again, but she had spoken a very wild thing that sort of made my blood rush to my face I am sure, and being dark, I doubt she remembers seeing my face, but we were talking about how you do not always get second chances in life, and I had told her about a male nurse named John McDowell who lived at 2041 Chestnut Street, in Philadelphia in Center City, back in 1963, and he had spoken this to me, and I mentioned that to her during this somewhat fascinating conversation that lasted all of about 3 minutes if I am recalling that part of things accurately. Now do not confuse Bob McDowell, these two dudes were totally different peeps from two totally different times in my life, the FCC Chairman McDowell, I was about three and a half years older than he was, while the male nurse John from Philly, was already a grown man, back when I was around nine years old. His mom also nursed at the same hospital, and was our neighbor, and he was visiting his mom, and my mom had become quite friendly with her. Still, SSJKK said to me in her new form in 1986, something to the extent of how right this guy was, and how I would probably come to realize it more and more with passing time. Why this made chills go up and down my freaking spine when I sat next to my own daughter in the car that night and did not know she was my kid, I do not know, but I do know, that this is an awesome reconstructed memory. Now this is page eleven of eleven, so let me please try and compensate with my lovely FIVES, good folks. 5555555555555555555 plus 55555555555 times 5555555 and divided by 55555555555555555, is equal to who cares? Just let me stare at these fives, YO!

Folks, is a freaking ***W—O—W*** appropriate here?
There is a lot more to tell, and I will just tell a very tiny ass bit of it, my wonderful viewers and believers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She had taken me into the days where I work as Labber Zeejins in the late twenty-two hundreds. This is where she showed me this with a very strange pointer that was about 50 inches long or more. I never saw so much anger on her face, it scared me to death, and I admit, I thought my next spot was the Huntington Bay Weeds, with boy-taker Volleyball Player, nameless friend. I know what she can do, I HAVE SEEN, and I'll say no more, for total fear of life and limb. Still, great SARAH KRASSLE, you know I AM THAT-BOY, and you know no matter what, and how all of this might play out, IWALU, and yes, I need your codes to show, and I told the Copyright Office this, and I know they know all about us today, and I know you know it as well, oh GREAT 1. Queen of Babylon OH GREAT ISIS, I AM so sorry for all I have said and done, and will be a very very GOOD BOY, I promise you, oh great TEEN QUEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I SURRENDER, I WILL OBEY, I WILL NOT BE A SHELLFISH, Sharkey says, 'UNCLE' at a hundred thousand bells of SPL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You have proven to me a billion times over, great one, JUST WHO RULES THIS EMPIRE, please accept my eternal apology, MC!

When I was being shown these things by Almighty ISIS, L-4; I was in the very same room that I was in when Professor Gawky Gaukauk was conducting that class at the Teck Bay Mystery School, only the room had been recreated. I was not on the Astral-Plane. I was merely in a parallel reality, or what you would call, in a very vivid dreaming experience. After I had been shown and forced to recall these things, I walked out alone, and in the hallway, was the laser retraced Donna Summer, not Jason Forrest of WFMU RADIO, but the dynamite darling of disco herself. All my old blogs talk about how I told the story, the true accurate story of what had happened to me on Walker and Water Streets in southeast Philly in 1988 while employed by Dorothea Dario, the pig who cheated her employees out of their rightful hours and pay and was reopening new companies as fast as the state of New Jersey was closing her down, and who belongs in Federal freaking prison. She beat me up when I was fifteen, and the my bicycle into the dam river. She does not think I remember her, but I do, on that early icy snowy January 1970 day at the Newton Creek near the recently built Burger King on the White horse Pike, in West Collingswood, just down the road from where Michael Landon AKA Ugie Googie Horowitz, went to the high school there on West Collings Avenue, before he played little Joe on Bonanza, and went on from there to star in many television roles. Aniwho, we need not get off into a dozen stupid ass tangents for now, believers. This is what got me onto SOCIAL SECURITY DISABILITY the very first time that I applied, when I told them the true story about World Labs up in the future, and how I had retraced 600 people from this time period, up there. This was in the days of my joining the Haddonwood Swimming club, in 1994. I joined on June 27, and within a few months, I was on disability. I still am. Folks say I am crazy, maybe I am. I know the truth, some others know it too. Then you have the Bluebook Warren Club of Disinformation, and the other MDE, with an EA in-between, sort of a magic symbol if you ask me, as in Fort MEADE, you get Mother-Daughter-Electron, and you also get Einstein Albert out of these initials. Then there was 2008. Say what?

Here is the story of last week, done a little bit more the way that would be pleasing to the great Almighty literary giant of Egg Harbor in New Jersey, Terry; please don't kiss me. Thank you. It was six days ago on Monday that I drove up to the Harvest. I wanted to tell the Manager who once was and said I was his pal, only he changed big time when becoming manager of the place, and this is why I detest power and capitalism and all of this shit. It turns everybody totally ugly and forgetful. The main thing that they tend to forget is that they all will pass the very same people who they were mean to once they became great hot shots, when it is their time and turn, to slide back down the ladder rungs of success, back into the great cosmic equalization. This does not mean I think powerful folks should be fools and give one thin dime to those begging for money. The wealthiest person on Earth would go broke in a year, just handing out fifty measly dollars to every not real well off person; man, woman, and child; just in the United States alone, and forget the world. What I do say is there is a horrible change that takes place in people, normally it is the smaller of the bigger people, such as JASPER, up there at the shit hole I used to work at through a stipend program, on E Street, in Washington, DC-13-600; that's actuality operated out of the Port Saint Lucie, Florida Office, on Route 1. LSS, I went up there back on Monday to tell him how Mikey had, or I thought at that time, had done me wrong by moving away and just dropping me as a friend after we had become very good friends, helping each other out in small ways when necessary, and enjoying talks on a more intellectual and stimulating level, than either of us can do by randomly conversing with just any helter skelter random person we may meet at the dam grocery store. I was wrong, and have since apologized for my inaccurate thinking, and accusations, and admit, I was a real nasty ass prick, and have learned that I will never ever engage in that type of petty conduct again. Hell if my own dam daughter can throw me to the wolves; then I shouldn't let anyone else bother me, even if that had indeed been the case, which it was not. He merely had become very preoccupied with major personal life problems for a month, after losing his job, and needing to move. Still, he managed to do a lot better than when I have a major crises, which happens very frequently throughout my miserable rotten life. His brother merely moved Mikey over to the next beach-house that he still owns, and he has another downstairs crib in there, merely moving about 25 yards tops, out one door, and into another one. With me, and not having anyone who cares a lick luck about me, Barbara Linglong Fonda; Ida been in some real serious ass trouble under a similar circumstance, bang on wood at '100' DB, not '199', those dam 'IO' keys '999' '000', they all are next to each other on the keyboard, 'UI', etcetera. Lately and especially this current lovely month of MAY, I definitely make the THIRTEENTH ANGRY MAN, right there, Mizz Jane Dirtweeds Sleazedisease??????????? I also told Jasper I would gladly pay him cash money, 100 dollars, to help me do a YOUTUBE PAGE. He at most is making a dozen bucks an hour, 15 total tops, and is not a rich man, with all his ego and demigod power up there. That is not a bad deal, and I would have paid him more for a really good one, along with also my own web page; such as the one that Eddie designed and posted on the net for me, back in OHM-7 somewhere. But he took my number and trashed it, as he always used to do when I worked there. But he did call Mikey and fink on me about what I had been nice enough to tell him. This only proves one thing, and that is that revenge or payback is never the correct action to take, especially when you are down and out all the way, and with no one anywhere in the mother fucking entire world who gives a shit if you should fucking live or fucking die, and that is my current situation, down in this so-called paradise hellhole misery, that lots of northern peeps, refer to, and call, F—L—O—R—I—D—A!!!!!! Some demonic supernatural or extraterrestrial event just occurred while I finished typing in the last sentence. I will not bother telling about it, as most if none would even believe it, but it happened on the dot of 5:05 PM, coming out of nowhere, totally invisible, and was along the lines of what David Roth and myself witnessed so often in the years between 1986 and 1999 for the most part, and especially after we made contact directly with both SSJKK, and then a few years after that, in a frenzy of fear to save our lives from some invisible assaulting power all around us that just popped up; the Camden County Prosecutor's Office, in Camden City, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG, on 12/05/1989. Hello to you too, School Play Participation Insistence, (SPPI) almost SIPRI, speaking of 'OHM'-7 a while back, and 1969 a bit further back, right Mister Ciprionni? If a 'WOW' was ever needed within a grouping of text words, this would be the quintessential time, laugh if you wish now, Mike McNulty! It is time, BC, to move this along now, and go about ten minutes after the moment that I walked out the Harvest place doors, and headed to the local area grocery store, the Publix; at the large mini-mall, at Virginia Avenue, and Route number 1. This is where some WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE power and technology, for reasons beyond my most stretched imagination; had me suddenly see, no, not a Walmart, that is a few miles to the west down Virginia which forks as it goes and becomes OKAY-2-CHOKE-ME Boulevard, becoming one of the on and off ramps, for the great interstate we all know and love, Drug Runners Alley and AKA 'I-95'. Walmart is a half mile before the highway, and is to the east of it. This is however the mini-mall parking area where I was convinced I had seen Mikey, only it was a major doppelganger, totally him, only with his hair different and bright yellow, and dressed like a wealthy man, or as my great LI Sound Yachtsman late cousin, might put it, “VERY COMFORTABLE”. LSS folks, it was not him, but right at that very time that 'some force or power' put this entity right in my direct path; Mikey was calling me, and leaving me a message on my voicemail system. He never came out and said it, but I know that Jasper called him, and told him that I said something not that pleasant to him, about Mikey; and I did. I had told how he used to accuse Jasper of a $10,000 theft that took place some time back. But I have come to learn that this is why I need to always remain totally fucking out of things, as the only person that EVER MOTHER FUCKING GETS INTO TROUBLE, as this must be programmed into the LAWN MOWER MAN MATRIX OF THIS WILD GAME AND SYSTEM; is the dude I see, when I am shaving in the dam ass morning; and ONLY THAT POOR FUCKED UP DUDE, no one else. Everyone else is PROGRAMMED TO DO EVIL AND SKATE ON IT, while I take the force fed shit, down the throat, EVERY MOTHER FUCKING ROTTEN ASS TIME, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!! But folks, there are a billion-trillion other subtle things, that are all WHY this stuff is happening exactly as it is, to me, and around me; and remains a total never ending constant for me and against me; not for a year, not for 5 years, not 10, not 20; but since the fucking cunt lapping day my mom dropped me on my rotten worthless head, while we lived at her mom's home, in West Philly, when I was one or two, and she was carrying me across 50th Street, to a doctor appointment, from the house at 440 South 50th Street; and no sooner were out the dam door, when she tripped on something, and fell on the street; and I fell down hard, and remember it horrifically to this very mother fucking second. Real funny, MC, real funny! Speaking of lovely persons, Happy BD, Sharon, and I doubt you are related to my kid's friend, although, they all got away with my situation because no one would ever suspect, huh Paul Pedersen, old buddy? I'll bet I am the whitest looking nigger you ever saw in your life, huh dog? Well, even I am not aloud to ride up into the hood and sing along to many of BOO and his pal's lyrics, if I wish to remain healthy up there late at night. Still, why did he not call my daughter when he was up at County Jail in early autumn in twenty-ten? Why call me? Jimmy, I still have the same question for you in late May of 2013 that I had back in late 1984, bub, YYYYYYYYY, why Jimmy Y, Y did you tell me these things; and also, JUST HOW DID YOU POSSIBLY FUCKING KNOW THAT THIS WAS ALL ABOUT MY FAMILY, WAY BACK IN 1974; and did you work on Project Jeanie-Dreams with my dad, at Majestic TS Level, in Fort Meade, or Fort MDE, 'mother-daughter-electron', and yes, then there is the H-2 stuff I learned the other night, about the cult that started in when else, but you all got it right 1984? This has to have a freaking W-O-W!

Now, I am not going to touch a million potential subjects on this blog, and basically, the second one hundred chapters, have all been reserved in a sort of semi-ordered structure by me, for really getting way more specific, about what the first 100 chapters in this M-5, just starts to get into; so be prepared to move forward with me, or else, hit that NEXT-BLOG BUTTON very soon, as unless you want to get real down and dirty filthy, into the trenches of warfare, and true horror; that poor old Walter could not handle, and so he booked out and off of the battlefield, and later made it up to the world, by becoming the greatest pleasure provider, to kids and all kids at heart of any age; but let me just say, that when this mud is all completely and totally explored; we will all get dirtied up, and I may be sued or killed, but hey; I can take the fucking heat, L-4 and BELIEVERS; can U?

SLAM BANG BONG BOOM ZAM, my thug neighbors are really paying homage to KALI's GANG, huh, very informative, H-2? It's half past fucking midnight, they don't care, just sell your drugs and have your parties, and decent people be damned. I will tell you world, I thought Jersey was fucked up, this Florida game down here is even more rotten and corrupt, but in its own way, completely unlike the northeastern areas of my earlier life. In some ways, the stuff is not any different, as it is all part of the shit that is surrounding me, that the new age folks and ancient-astronaut theorist folks call star visitors/travelers/aliens/ET aliens/ etcetera; and the church and religious faith folks call forces of darkness, demonic or satanic, the enemy, the fall of mankind through sin and the Adam and Eve stuff, and along that line. One thing that remains constant with me, and that all connects up with the same truth, that different folks merely 'believe differently in'; is the WHAT'S MY EXCUSE deal, that is discussed in both the new Morianity of the internet days in this century, as well as on cassette tape back when it began in 1995 from my apartment in Williamstown, Giant-Officer Syndrome of Missourians, in New Jersey. This is not something invented by Tom Cruise and his Top-Gun movie around the Prophet of Nothing days. Hollywood stole it from me after I had originally copyrighted my Epitome of Harassment project in the late eighties, from my residence in Moorestown, New Jersey, on Central Avenue. I kind of wonder if a little Magnetic Sound Machine Irony is not in and through this, as a result of what I'll now be telling you, good believers, and others. You see, back in Mullica Township, New Jersey at the Plageman Trailer Home Park (Mullica Mobile Manor) as it was called when I was living there and still may be; I told the landlady how the boob neighbor next to me, Richie, blared his TV set at all kinds of hours. Nothing was done about it when I was the only one complaining. But when the neighbor both on his other side, as well as the ones across from the driveway to his trailer, also complained to her, then and only then, was it stopped, and he was told to cut it out or move out. Same thing here in Fort Pierce, Florida and at this PHA building. The subwoofer box was complained about by numerous nabes, not everyone here is a druggie thuggy, KALI, CALLIO AT&T-TEN. But when it is just the banging doon that is right across the hallway from me and only me, I'm stuck with it. Sure, I called the police months ago to complain about their noise, but nothing was done, they did not answer their door, and they merely laid low for a week or so and then resumed normal uncouth behavior patterns. Is this supposed to come as some big shock to me, folks? Hopefully not, as it did not. After decades of hell and shit, I pretty much am onto exactly how most of the mechanics of my misery, really operate and work, covertly behind all of the dam fucking OZ-CURTAINS, Glinda and Dorothy. Not only don't I surrender, Mizz Bondi, Florida State Attorney General, but as long as breath and life is in this body; I will shout out and tell a whole lot more stuff. We have not covered 5 percent of my story, and anyone thinking we have is a fool. Morianity could stop right now or even in 2010, and enough would have been told, so as to know that my tale of woe, is known publicly; and adding 100 more years to it, really will not make that much difference. Still, I will go on. Originally, I was planning to wrap it up completely by Memorial Day, and folks, I HAVE CHANGED MY MIND. My only weapon of fucking defense, is the power of the pen, and the typewriter, and now so it seems; the computer, and this blogging shit. So on we will go, most likely until the mother fucking day that I die. As long as they can have an excuse, this will never stop. Can they always have an excuse? Well, look at Washington, DC, and if you really need to, then visit the dam city and come to learn a bit about it. Then you tell me if they'll always be able to fall back on an EXCUSE! This is what was told on the original EPITOME OF HARASSMENT TAPES, copyrighted late in the nineteen-eighties, and please see it at the end of the blog, despite my misspelling the title, as I am not a good speller, and I fucked it up, and had no Microsoft Spellchecker back in those days. Yes, H-2, very very very informative, back on Thursday night. I enjoyed viewing your network the entire evening, and learned a lot of fascinating stuff. One thing nobody can teach me, and that is that this problem with whatever it is that is REALLY out there wherever somewhere, and myself; is NOT GOING TO EVER STOP, OR GO AWAY; and the first world famous wormhole is not the triangulated McGuire-owned one, in Atlantic City; but is a period in time, separating two tunes. I need not be cute, or smart-ass, to quote Mashell, or Dawn-Marie. We all know what is getting said, them, as well as Toni Beej. Between you and me world, the day he popped his head into the door of the studio where Ryan and I were, and made his statement just more than a year ago, things, bad as they were for me then, GOT WORSE, A LOT WORSE, you know, Gary sir of the Trekkers, (-77777777777777). I have some major stuff all planned out to tell you folks, but right now is not the proper time. Billy Harner taught me the power and importance of timing, and nobody ever seemed to need to teach that to many others, as they sort of; well they don't all inherit it, and that's for sure; but they do get it through street osmosis, or whatever Richard Karpf and his peeps might feel comfy cozy with; especially when playing poker, and with any hands from any reality; huh Josephine? I am so very disappointed in you, Jehovah Krassle, my endless love. I always knew I was right though, and I feel 9 feet tall, that everyone back in time who laughed at me, has to eat their words, and secretly realize that I was decades ahead of all of them. They can lie to themselves from here to Harold Camping's next bullshit predicted doomsday, and beyond. The last laugh of the McNulty Club belongs to myself and perhaps, Mister Icabod Crane, right © Office???

Welcome to hell. I have been here since August fifteen back in 1986. If you are reading this, then you are merely visiting HELL. Still, one welcomes his guests unless he is extremely vulgar, rude, impolite, and down right ignorant and revolting.

Every day, it is back to horrible fire alarms that wake you up at 2 or 5 or some other early time in the morning. There was one every day for days, and today was no exception. The filth bag neighbors across from me are on a non-stop slamming doors mode, it went on until 2:35 this morning, and management will not do anything, so when I am out later, I will, as I must, and even though it will do no good, send off two letters, one is to my local congressman and one is to the Fort Pierce Public Housing, the same address as is on my rent envelopes.

I am making plans to escape for Mexico, and all the peeps who may try and stop me, you all just go right ahead, as I am getting out of your mother fucking evil empire. I may not be able to run away from what all of you peeps call, GOD, but even she cannot stop me from running. Running away buys me a few months before shit catches up again to me, and starts all over. I need these lousy mother fucking few months. It beats going totally out of my cunt eating mind at the speed of light squared.
This evil empire will end up destructing from within, you'll-C.

I am now at 43% MPB, and my life will be over fucking shortly. I tried to do something in 1986 that went real wrong, and I will be dead soon, as a result of a very unforgiving goddess, despite bible lies and a lot more, really, put more accurately; extreme cleverness. No one ever needs to lie if clever enough, it is still a practice of deception, in my books, only nobody gives a fucking Potters shit about my magical, or non-magical book, so it appears, James Stuart, old NON HIGH SCHOOL buddy, old pal, from the cement business and buildings and loans. The last eight days has contained 6 SUPER FUCKING BOTBARS NOW, and this siege may very well be the new-times repeat of AUGUST 15, 1986, who can ever breath echo know for sure, on or off of all SWEPT AWAY PLACES, RIGHT LEGALLY BORN, NON GAGA DIANE ROSS, IN ANY WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WILL OUTLINE THE EVENTS OF THIS DAY FOR ANYONE WHO JUST MIGHT GIVE A TINY FUCKING SHIT, AND FOR THOSE WHO DON'T. I tried to do a person a favor who used to call me his buddy some time back, and he put a knife into me as soon as I waltzed out the fucking door. What I suffer through is so unbelievable, and beyond anyone's possible maxed out staggered imagination; there just are no words, and this is why Christianity, discusses a spiritual groaning language, when there are simply no words. You see folks, I may fucking cunt curse a lot, and you would do much worse if you went through ten days of my fucking hell, let me assure you; but I could witness in every cunt chewing house of worship on Planet Earth, that indeed, this GOD and this DEVIL thing, is all true and real, and what I know has zero percent to do with anything involving mother fucking FAITH, I promise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Before I get into mother fucking squat, believers and others; and maybe a student teacher from 1972 who may have changed careers, or stuck with it, who can know, Copyright Job Keeping Examiners of OHM-8; but I will make a quick fucking list of why things are SUPER BOTBAR, then I will go into some detail on matters that I feel need addressing in more elaboration, fullness, and elucidation. I found out today that I was knifed in the back by an old associate up the road. I learned that someone did a President National Park Clinton on me yesterday near the Publix, and yes folks, I meant to say that I made a fucking left turn, not a right one, quite obviously. You'd have trouble keeping a clear head too, if you were suffering 1% this fucking long and severely, so don't you dare fucking laugh at me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! After wasting 18 dollars on a new remote, the entire machine broke today, while I was trying to enjoy my Tuesday show of “L&O-SVU”, and as I said; THE MARKET WILL FLY TOMORROW, AND AS I SAID THIS YESTERDAY, AND IT OF COURSE FUCKING DID SO; I NOW PROCLAIM THIS ALL OVER AGAIN, ONLY IT WILL BE A MUCH HUGER MOTHER FUCKING AMOUNT. What do I mean by someone doing a Clinton? Well, real Morians and many enemies know exactly, but some may not, so I will tell it more clearly, YO, DOGS!!!!!!!!!! W—–O—–L—–F!!!!!!!!!!!! In 1995, at the National Park, in Redbank, New Jersey, I saw another non-high-school keeping jobs doppelganger, only this one was that of William Jefferson Clinton in this part of the high school, Sir Walter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let's book out of here; there are no fucking cock sucking war heroes on this fucking ass ambulance, brother Vineland Chain-EEEE!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

W——-O——-W!

I regret that smashed Mountain Dew bottle, in August of 1986, with all my heart and soul; and am so fucking like dead meat, peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YO! Yes, I was trying to watch my show tonight, and BAM, the machine burned up like a fucking bolt of fucking ass lightning had struck it!!!!!!!!

The dirt bag nabes have been in SLAM MODE ever since before this MAY 14 DEATH SIEGE began and struck me out of nowhere, just as in the middle of AUGUST IN 1986. This really is just a SOSO-WEIN shituation. The DOW JONES SHOT WAY UP, not as bad as I thought, but it was done on my back as always, with this major PROPERTY DAMAGE ATTACK, as the machine was giving me some trouble recently, and now I know that it was mother fucking RASPBERRY CARNIVAL HIT, BY THE WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!
Between the fucking cunt BACK STAB, THE NOISY NABES, THE FLYING FUCKING DOW JONES STOCK MARKET, AND THE DAMAGED PROPERTY, ON OR OFF OF ANY EGYPTIAN BABYLONIAN TERRITORY; THIS DAY WAS OFF THE SCALE FUCKING SUPER FUCKING COCK SUCKING ASS BOTBAR!!!
I AM GOING TO BE MOTHER FUCKING CUNT LAPPING MURDERED, MIZZ PAM BONDI, LOVELY FLORIDA ATTORNEY GERNERAL NON BREAKDOWN, AND I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW SO THAT AFTER I AM FOUND DEAD IN THIS APARTMENT, THINGS WILL JUST MAYBE GET LOOKED FUCKING INTO, I DOUBT IT, 99.9999%, BUT THERE AIN'T NO FUCKING LAW AGAINST ME HOPING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I need to stop typing for 4 minutes or so, it is nine past eleven, and I will not get struck by whore JANE for all the fucking dam ass love in the cat house cubed, YO YO YO!!!!!
OK, I am back, and am in regular time, Judge Copyrights, and let us all get a big ass laugh on the fucking pathetic Mountainpen!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! It is now 11X2, as some of us LABBER'S from 2294 would jokingly say, upon occasion, oh lovely Asian Girl, Sir Detective Brog. You do not need to know it all, L-4, and as of this current moment, whatever you all think you know about me and my situation and especially with TAWF and WOMO, let me say, that that suffices for the present moment, DOGS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where's Matches McGuire when you need him, Randy Vans??????????????????????????????? W-O-W!!!!!!!!!!
Doobey-doobey-doo, and Nothing-Prophets, from the great illustrious AT&T, who could go to bat for me, but won't, as they know what side their bread is buttered on, WO, BH!!!!!!! Yeah bud, you and PP said it all back in mother fucking ass time! Still I owe all of you an apology. I know what is really going on, and you are all just riding along and caught in the fucking currents and undertows of this GREAT DREAM!!!!!!!! Oh well, let us move this along, wonderful freaking peeps, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO! What are the odds that Mikey called me with a very logical explanation, while I was still outside yesterday, and all of the stuff that went down all around these incidents, without factoring in intentional fucking with the non-high-schools, oh wonderful © Office? Boy oh boy, does Mountainpen have a mother fucking wild ass vivid imagination, yeah shore; tell me another one, on or off the beach, and for the hell of it, GOV! Thanks for ripping me off in 2010, by not giving me my state income tax refund because I left New Jersey. Like I wanted to leave big guy, SHEEEEEEEEIT. If Ida stayed in that fucking house at 831 13th Street, I would not be here right now, dude! Even the nice girl from the Saint Lucie County Safe Space, told me I got out just in time with my life, GOV. Sorry if that pisses all of fucking New Jersey off, WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! Spin those crooked wheels of justice up there, in or out of the lovely ass casinos, oh no, they do not cheat, anymore than 'God' lies. But there are hidden ways of cheating and deceiving, and when someone gets onto this secret fucking shit, they basically are DEAD FUCKING MEAT, WORLD!!!!!!!!!

David Charles Roth would understand this 100% if he was not a victim of this horrendous fucking horse shit himself already, and dead. I TOLD YOU, AND 'AT&T' HAS A RECORD OF IT, 1000 TIMES OVER; THAT WE WERE DEAD FUCKING PEOPLE, AND WE ARE. I AM DEATH, YOU MERELY PERCEIVE A DAM ILLUSION, OLD BUDDY. This is why DEEDEE sits on my air conditioner outside, and follows me all over. She knows that I AM DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My death is way smaller than my HELL, so which of these two fucking entities do you kind folks out here think is going to become the dominating factor, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA????????
I will look down and see green and you will look up and see brown, but up and down, and green and brown; is all the same truth at zero dimension; and you know that old buddy, as I taught you this; and you echoed it right back to me that day in 1991, on Route 295. I remember it all like it was happening yesterday. “Because of Z-D-T”, you shouted at me at 100+DB, Uncle Dave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Move over, all dam light-switches from 1983, WEEEEEEEEEEEE! W—O—W!

Well people, this will be a WHOPPER TODAY, and you may quote any of three people here, Professor Pepperwinkle on the original high phone bill Superman show, President Obama, and then finally, little old nobody me, Mountainpen.

I am not going to entertain you all with huge fonts, super wild stupid swearing, or anything else like a blog over filled with brah's and bro's and bree's and yo's. You will do yourself an extreme disfavor if you skip it however, and you just go ahead and do this at your free will and choice, both WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE and tiny group mingled in, known as my Morians (BELIEVERS in my truths, for the most part or perhaps entirely). I am holding at a MPB-40% as of yesterday's horrendous emmereffing day that will close out when I finish this blog, post it up, and go to 'sleep', as mortal world residents would call the experience. But this blog will contain quite a bit of tattle tailing and powerful stuff, ignore it at your own potential funeral somewhere down the dimly lit road, good kind folks, whoever you are, as frankly, Mister Rett Butler, I do not care about those details, or for that matter, Congressman Andrews, whether the city or the river, ran away with my mind, or whether or not I have been lost in time, all these dam years, sir. I will open by telling you that I knew I would get clobbered on my dam systems-roulette tonight, and was not disappointed a small fraction, losing 26 and a half emmereffing units. You can expect the DOW JONES INDUSTRIALS to rise on tomorrow's markets, somewhere between 250 and 600 points, and you can bank on it folks, I PROMISE YOU, LOVELY MO! Yes, I played five games, and got clocked, mostly on the final game, as before that, I was only down three units, and was stupid, and could not see the freaking writing on the wall as clear as Johnny Clariton 1-2-3 ripoffs Lovernash, and merely quit at this small loss for the day, knowing fully well, it could only do a Howard Solomon Busted Eardrum, or an anti-dice, or whatever, but real followers need not force me to spell out the appropriate five letter word that starts with a 'W', and ends with an 'E', no rabbits, no Mike McNulty's, sorry, no time tonight. There's too much to rock chucking say and I do not wish to type all throughout the night. You will get your mind blown, unless you do not want to, and have joined the two great world renown clubs, the Missourians Club and the GWPOS CLUB, either or, or both; makes little difference. The days of my doing security detail out in my car, at the Cifaloglio place, comes to mind. The greatest system in the universe could be used, but if I was being dive bombed by WOMO ENEMY AIR STRIKES, and the skies were filled to the brim with nasty ass chemtrails, making me ill and causing me to crap myself many times; there is no way I could ever win. The weak link in the system I am currently using is an over abundance of house vig numbers as well as the evil-side-doubleton pattern, as one pattern wins, and the other one destroys the system, and when it comes in, it comes in with a vengeance, and you can play the dam wheel forever, and it will only change if you do the unthinkable and try betting against the system, as that inside the quantum foam of real true reality, makes the system then start to work, and the bad patterns go away. BUT, you still lose, either way you play the game, literally, and figuratively. I got both hits tonight, clocked by runt slapping green numbers or the house vig, as well as that one pattern that kills and seems to remain endlessly unless you quit that wheel, and this is the evil-side-doubleton pattern. This has a twin side that makes a killing, as do strings and alternates, but this one pattern type, will wipe out this particular gaming betting system, I promise. So why does the one pattern come out so vigorously, tenaciously, obstinately, and regularly, and by that I mean you can set your watch to it if you are me, as all super attacks will eventually bring the one pattern that just will not quit, and really wipes me out, and I can count the truck on it, folks. This was a serious botbar day, and I am five for seven now, in other words only 2-non-botbar days were in the last seven days total, and for the month, I am now 12 botbar days for the 20 days of May so friggin' far, good people. I did speak to Debbie Marotto, but it is merely a futile expenditure of energy. No on else complains, and the architecture of the system is why. Don't ask me the details, it is too lengthy. Being across from these bastard scum bags, only I get the full brunt of their evil wickedness, and unless others complain, no one will ever help me. You see, this is proof that I do not count in this world one tiny bit. No one gives a blasted dam if I live or die, not one soul, and so, I do not care one bit about this world, and it can go blow up right now, and that is just fine with me. Do you want honesty or deception, from this blogger. You're the one reading my words, do you want them to just be a bunch of pretty sounding lies? Now let me begin to break down this horrible botbar day for you, my believers. It started with hearing a loud aerial vessel outside, I am sure of it. Now the rest of the entire day was air free for me, nothing out of the ordinary, once I went out to do an errand or two, and boy will we explore what happened to me, good folks, and really, if you are not sitting down, I strongly urge you to do so before reading further along. If you do not and you hit your head when you fall down; please don't blame me, as I TOLD YOU!

After the air sound, while I was reading some of my stuff on the computer, and after being up and awake a short time, arising around quarter past eleven or so yesterday morning; the evil mother fucking neighbors across from me, began their 'BING BANG BONG BOOMING' of doors; over, and over, and over again; FORT PIERCE POLICE DEPARTMENT, AND NARCOTICS DIVISION! I was going to go out later on in the afternoon, but it was as though the forces of Misses 1969 Marola, and her 'MUST HAVE ME DO THE SCHOOL PLAY' ON MEMORIAL DAY, stuff all over again; that put me on some perfect cosmic schedule, just as it did back then, to be on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, at a perfectly timed minute and second, so as to witness and experience something; and this time, it was again, all done for me to be someplace, and witness another awesome something; and so let me now get to all of that. First I spoke to my Resident Manager, after returning from my errands, and not initially. All I did was take out my trash and throw it down the chute on my floor near the elevators, even my mail was not checked and received by me, until I returned back to the building. I wanted to get up to the HARVEST, and see my old pal, JASPER. I was not going to rest, until I told him a very horrible thing that Mikey had accused him of, with no evidence or real good reason whatsoever, and we will not get into it all, although, the local television reporters may know just exactly what is being talked about here right now on this blog. I never agreed with him about this, and did not like it when he did all that trash talking, but only after he totally screwed me over and vanished, was I boiling mad, and decided a few days ago that indeed, I would retaliate and tell Jasper how he has been trash talking his reputation all over town, and he has, and then Jasper told me, he is aware that someone in fact was spreading that around, and he was quite appreciative to learn that it was Mikey. I only rat out rats that deserve it. Only if you hurt me will I rat you out on something, really hurt me, and for no good dam ass reason. If I see something that is none of my business, I walk on, and that is that. I have seen and witnessed enough things in my life to write a billion essays on it, but again, I stress that I am not a rat. A rat does this. I do not really tattle-tail. I just feel that when someone does me real friggin' wrong, then they deserve a little payback, and if most people are honest with themselves, they will tell me they agree with me. Now I mean this people, be sitting down for what I'll tell you next, L-4.

I did not purchase one single item at the Harvest Store back yesterday, Monday, and I may have indeed needed a few snacks, some cookies and crackers and stuff that normally would cost 30 bucks, that you can get for about 5 bucks there, just because the stuff may be a month past expiration dates. 4:5, the stuff is fresh and good, so risking 5 dollars and usually coming up a winner, does not bother me at all. I mean they sell limeade and lemonade for 5-9 bucks for 6 gallons or 12 half-gallon cartons. It is not always in the cooler, many times just apple juice or orange juice is there, and I am only a grape juice and lime and lemon drinker. Still, I only had telling Jasper what I told him, on my mind, and I did; and things seemed to be getting better on the day until I got down the mother freaking road about 2 blocks. There would never be a real need for a dam cop or a dam law, if everyone had my conscience, and upbringing; and try as I might not to brag; I am a gentleman when I am outside my door. I don't curse or rarely, and never around women and children; and I watch my manners, and act refined. I don't put on airs or the dog, or any of that. I don't go 'dahhling', and use nine syllable words or try showing off or bragging about my Huntington family. Nobody knows me, and I try to keep it all that way, other than for screaming out online about my life and the injustices involved, and the people involved as well, that I feel totally, are causing it all, and are totally responsible for it all. I am not all that shy on my blogs, nor am I sorry. But outside my door in the real world, I behave my freaking self. I never ever look at girls, I never ever do anything wrong or illegal. Women always bothered me all my life, not the other way around. Now that I am old and ugly, most of the time, this has lessened, praise the gods!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, I got down the road a few blocks, and my conscience started bothering me real ass fucking bad, good people. I know I shouldn't have ratted the bastard out. He really hurt me, the mother fucker. Still, is that any reason or excuse for me to be no better than him, by my behavior being rotten and shitty? The answer of course is an unequivocal NO. I still feel way more terrible and guilty than I feel compensated or relieved or avenged. I was brought up by a very good mother, praise the gods, and all though I did not believe all her religious horse shit 100%, I have come to know that there is something out there beyond any and all human reasoning, as I have experienced a lifetime of shit that proves and verifies this totally, and I could witness in any and every church on this planet!!!!!!! But it gets way way way freaking better than this, so hold onto your big ugly hat, Mister McGraw, you bumpkin! Wow what an ego bruise for him, Microsoft. Let me move on now.

Feeling about three feet tall, 25 inches less than I really am, there I was in my car, now heading away from the Harvest Store, and towards the PUBLIX GROCERY STORE in town, on Route-1 or the (Federal Highway), same thing. Mikey goes to this store and this mini-mall a lot, and banks at the bank there as well; and I know all that from back when I was helping him to do his errands, after he had just left the Lawnwood Hospital here in town; and after he was recuperating from his surgical procedure, for his hernia problems. I spotted him walking towards one of the stores that was perhaps half a dozen stores to the north of the Publix, in this very large mini-mall area. He has a walk that no one else in this world has, and is very slender and I know him from the front as well as the back like I know the back of my hands. I slowly crept up on him, as you need to drive slowly in a mini-mall anyway, and I managed to get ahead of him and look both ways before making a right turn to head closer to a parking area for the Publix Customers, but I looked back with my eyes in the rear view mirror, and get ready folks, and this is gospel truth so help me, I swear this under penalty of libel, perjury, slander, and any criminal maliciousness whatsoever, as well as on the Almighty Goddess Herself, SSJKK, (Sarah-Stacey Krassle), Queen of the Astral Plane. Not only was it Mikey, but he colored his hair, and changed the style of it. It is totally yellow blond, and he has totally different eyeglasses as well. I have known this mid sixtyish man for the entire time I have lived down here in Florida, as he always was working the front desk of the HARVEST, and I went there for help when I first got into town, on advice from the landlady of the RV-PARK, the Manatee RV Park, also on Route-1, in the White City section of town, at the opposite corner from where the Harvest place is, as they are up in the north-west, and White City is down in the south-east corner of this large 7 mile square town area of nearly 50 square miles. This man would never under any ordinary circumstances, ever do anything one tenth as absurd as dying his hair bright yellow, altering his appearance entirely, and yes, even his style of dress was day and night difference, from what I knew all that time that I knew this man. Dick Wolf and Donald Trump, and all their pals could not say it better, and they did say it over and over, right there on the television broadcast, during many airings of the greatest law show ever, surpassing even the once all time great PERRY MASON, and I quote them, with their permission hopefully; “YOU JUST CAN'T MAKE THIS KIND OF STUFF UP”. Then again, you cannot make up 1969, 1974, 1980, and shall I really bother to go on, ladies and gentlemen? Anyone able to make up something even close to MORIANITY, well, I would bow down to them as I would the freaking Almighty. So boweth not down to me folks, as I am not worthy. I did not make any of this up, nor would I have one thousandth of the sufficient amount of talent to indeed do so, and when I'm accused of this; it is quite a boost to my little tiny nobody worthless ego!

MORIANITY PART V,
CHAPTER XCII, goes on!

Death angel attacks are continuous, it has not been this bad ever with this having these continual bombardments of super high pitched tone bursts in either one or the other ear, totally knocking out all other sound. Weldon Saunders of New Jersey told me in the fall of 1987, this is the DEATH ANGEL, and I believe him. He knew other things that were true, and I will say no more, Sidney Mirrors Cohen Crown, not even in five freaking minutes, sir! But other than for this nasty annoyance, all is calm and quiet for me, a very freaking rare occurrence. PTL/ESS Mister Robertson, sir! Think what you want about me old pal and old boss, I know as much about you my friend as you can possibly ever know about me, and that goes for all of my wonderful nice friends and foes of the electronic ethereal world, AKA the internet.

I was given a message today that all odds are, came from Almighty ISIS. I am very sorry, my brown eyed eternal love, I did not mean that rant the other day, IWALU and only you, and this darn song just has me so mad, after-all, I did write it, and you did use it to bring me another of your wonderful many messages over the years now, and all I want to do is what 60013 warned me not to ever try doing, and WOW, I guess he was right|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||!!!!!!!

Please do not be mad at THAT-BOY. I will behave and be a real good boy, and obey my awesome red hot teen-queen. See you soon at your wonderful shop on M-Boulevard in your great wonderful city. Yes I know what yesterday was, our 44 year anniversary of your shop, and your 'friends'. WOW, Misses Marola, you are beyond awesome, oh great Almighty Goddess ISIS. You were right about that other statement you made a little bit later on, and for that matter, at that time, I thought that I was lighter than I really was. Dave Roth said it all, old cold cruel world of doubters, haters, and backbiters; “Ain't life grand”. Well, Dave, Roseann Shitholes and Bowel Lees Casino to you too, in those darker woods behind her place that night in late '89. Yes those three dudes that worked at the top of that IOSC Avenue Boardwalk-On-ramp, Calvin, Norman, and Lee, what a motley crew they made, right lovely Queenie? The other day I was thinking to myself, back on Wednesday the twenty-ninth I believe it was, I liked the two friendly dudes a lot, but you can have the dude, Lee, as in 1969, he showed his 'true colors' by reading me a quiet riot act about enemies in Atlantic City, don't ask, and I won't tell. It is not all that urgent, and it is not all that pretty. Still, I was saying how I liked those guys, to myself in the bathroom while shaving, and then said to myself, well, I don't miss Lee. Then I burst into laughter and I guess my nabe next door, Mister Stanley, must have thought I had brought a comedy video with me, into the bathroom. Miss Lee, if nothing else rules in that big apple, symbolism sure does; and so do all things tall and gorgeous. But if we subtract the B off of the place and keep the other initials, as in getting rid of Lee and keeping my pals Norman and Calvin; we end up with the great EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND. Show me how the cosmos is not screaming out in endless symbolic vociferousness.

Well folks, keep on keeping on, and let me crash and try appeasing the great ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||SIS. WOW, do I love that special teenager!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Whajusay Walter? WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA or was that WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABIT?

KEEP RIGHT ON GOING, FOLKS'|

|READ ON LADIES AND GENTLEMEN|

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HOLY TOLEDO, DADDY SECRETS, Where is Aunt Jeanie, and does she want to jam along with me and my great kid. This is so cool, you'll be crossing over, dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee, oh no, I'll be crossing over Academy Road after I get off of 95, and then I need to get over to Grant, G-R-A-N-T, all need I sing this another time, or just freaking DEAL WITH THIS ANOTHER TIME, LIKE SUPER FREAKING W—O—W!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

4:05 PM, SUNDAY AFTERNOON, MAY 26, 2013

PLEASE CONTINUE TO READ:
MORIANITY PART FIVE, CHAPTER 00092. TANKS FOLKS.

Jupiter, Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.

W—O—W

http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.

BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING (GODDESS DIANA), SUBMITTED BY A CHANNEL 12 VIEWER, NOW PASTED FROM THEIR TV-APP.

MY BABY-BLOND DIANA ZUDLECRONESSIA ARTEEMIS.

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This is 100% machine created, techno-pop, sampled from the intro.

YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983

NEW 2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC TRACK ALONG WITH ARE UP AT THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, LIKE DUH:

Only the opening title words are real.

“YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER”

VERSE ONE

I'm so very happy for you, pales of fish so fresh and new

Let me ask you really nicely, could you spare us just a few

Oh my wife and kids are starving, could you help us make a stew

We're down and out, and we will even go to work for you

You seem to have about a dozen giant pales or two

I am so weak and faint and do not wanna' be so blue

While we slept inside the dunes, somebody stole my shoe

Oh please kind sir, just take some pity, let us work for you

We'll help in any way we can, and be your loyal crew

But greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say

I've been working hard out in the sun all day

And I'm not giving any freaking fish away

VERSE TWO

So when you add your salty tears directly in the sea

And when you're done your song of woe, that you have sung to me

Just take your wife and kids, and jump right off this big jetty

And right into the undertow, and stop annoying me

And talking on and on and on, and bothering my fish

You loud annoying bleeding hearts, that beg and cry and bitch

I have lots of work to do, and buckets must be filled

So either leave this jetty now, or someone might be killed

Guys like me must catch our fish, like farmers fields get tilled

People say I'm cold and cruel, on every single day

But I have got a lot of freaking bills to pay

So I'm not giving any of my fish away

VERSE THREE

They say the greatest mother lies there out beyond the sand

And mothers can get angry when their kids are out of hand

Storms blow out of nowhere and, a lot of folks have died

The sea can give and take away, while many tears get cried

And on one very special day, a greedy man was drowned

Ignoring waves that swallowed rocks with heavy pounding sound

Just another bucket and, then he'll have caught his fill

A lot of daring fishermen forget the sea can kill

The king fish of the jetty, just was never seen again

Yet locals claim the winds still howl these words from fisher Ben

I've been working hard out in the sun all day

So yes I have a lot of freaking bills to pay

And I'm not giving any of my fish away

VERSE FOUR

You'll be crossing over, later wishing you'd been nicer

You'll be crossing over, through the quantum waving splicer

You'll be crossing over, hearing all the trash they're talking

You'll be crossing over, and you'll have to keep on walking

You'll be crossing over, watching all the others eating

Feasts with banquet tables, where the fish keep on repeating

Forever seeing many fish, but never on your plate

You had your time back in the sun before you sealed your fate

You'll be crossing over, and you'll be a lonesome rover

Forever doomed to hear the words you always used to say

That you've been working hard out in the sun all day

Oh yes we knew you had your freaking bills to pay

So you're not giving any of your fish away

END OF SONG.

MORIANITY PART FIVE, WITH

CHAPTER 00088, CONTINUING RIGHT ALONG.

Yes sir, old buddy from CF School, 'IT'S TIME', MMCN!
You said it all in late 1971, AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!!!

Sharkey says, HEY GIRL, Leticia Tilley, oh and also,

tell me if Marcus Muldanato, still your bitch???

Now the greatest fish in the whole dam bay, wants to share a little more information with this blind foolish Planet Earth.

PHOTO IS COURTESY OF THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC.

AUUCH, HEINZ GOTTWALD, say what Aunt Ruth?

Oh yes people, as good old Jason Forrest Summer, SAYS IT ON HIS WFMU RADIO WEB-SITE SO WELL, AND I WILL QUOTE HIM HERE EXACTLY, YO, “FUCK YOU”.

HE SAID THIS FOLKS, NOT ME, AHA!!!

THIS PHOTO IS COURTESY OF THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC

**WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

http://youtu.be/Vqg3oty0JMU 100% machine created, technopop.

YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983

NEW 2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC

TRACK ALONG WITH: Only the opening title words are real.

“YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER”
BUT TO WHERE, AS MY HELL IS ENDLESS?
**********WHERE ELSE, H——E——L——L**********

***MORIANITY PART FIVE***

A child knows that a lot of stuff can be learned by visiting my Youtube site, that will remain for now and a little while longer, but not endlessly. It will all come down when Morianity has completed, and I alone know that time, as well as all of the other parts of me that are not me directly. Click below, YO!!

http://www.youtube.com/paulaking2011/

THE MASTER SHEET FOR MORIANITY PART FIVE:

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My blogs
Morianity Bible For Millenium Three:
Morianity Foundation
The Epitome of Harassment – Internet Version
To Whom It May Concern From The Head Morian
RATS, TATS, & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL
About me
Gender
Male
Industry
Non-Profit
Occupation
paranormal researcher
Location
Hammonton, New Jersey, United States
Introduction
Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.
Interests
I close my mind to nothing
Favorite Movies
all old movies
Favorite Music
most old music
Favorite Books
The Winds Of War, Gone With The Wind, Time Travelers From Our Future
You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?
An angry mother. Also, a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.

If you have read this opening, feel free to skip this part.

FOLKS, AS I SAID TO THE COPYRIGHT OFFICE IN THE LATE EIGHTIES ON MY EPITOME OF HARASSMENT TAPES, GOOD MORNING, GOOD AFTERNOON, GOOD EVENING, WHATEVER THE CASE MAY BE. How can I possibly know when you are reading what I am writing? I AM not the great ISISCYLLA SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE, and never will be, sort of like my old pal David Charles Roth's only show in town. How he would always remind me, seemingly on a daily basis, that the WOMO-MILITUFORCE is not the only show in town, nor will they ever be. I believe the tapes are somewhere available in the great Library of Congress, Copyright Office, in Washington, District of Columbia, a place may I add with a very liberated attitude where the age of sexual consent should be placed, and what is good for the lawmakers, is good for everyone else, and if that is not true, just exactly how have I misspelled America? XIII is the number by the way, such a tender age and how the perverts must wonder why this is not common knowledge and all move into our great capitol city, right Roy? I still cannot believe that you told me this, or that nobody seems to know it, know matter how I spread around what you said to me, old pal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This will be the master sheet for PART 5 of MORIANITY.
You may skip through this by scrolling, any time, folks.

December 12, 2006
More Crackpots- Meet Mark from NJ (MP3)

http://youtu.be/Vqg3oty0JMU ** song from 1983 redone, YBCO (C) HIM, ME.
This is merely a harmony track, I am trying to make a video and post the entire song, YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER, MARK WAYNE MOHR, FULL COPYRIGHT AND OWNERSHIP OF SONG. Now at the risk of getting crucified, pigeonholed, or persecuted, read on, my wonderful great Morians.
At the risk of being pigeonholed as the Girl Who Writes About Crazy Cursing Dudes, I bring you Mark from New Jersey.  Mark has far-ranging theories on time travel, Armageddon, roulette and Donna Summer (the DEVIL!), which he angrily discusses in various telephone conversations. 
Station Manager Ken clued me in to this fella recently.  He was given a CD called "The Meaning of Life."  The back copy states that it was made from a cassette found on the side of the road bearing the same title.  He's really difficult to listen to, for a couple of reasons- The recordings only capture Mark's side of the conversation and they seem to have been recorded either by a microphone placed somewhere in the room or possibly while Mark was standing outside on a windy day.  More importantly, he is insane.  Completely, violently insane. 
Mark claims to be both a time traveler and a descendant of King David.  His family will bring about the apocalypse through the activation of the Christ Android, currently dormant inside the 12 Planet.   And also that the 50 richest families in the world are trying to do him in.  Covertly, of course.   Also against him is Donna Summer, the Devil.  (Whether he means the disco Donna Summer, or WFMU's own Jason Forrest isn't clear.) 
Here then, are three selections from Mark's version of reality:
Interdimensional Technology (MP3)    Android & Angel (MP3)    12th Planet (MP3)
If you need more Mark from NJ, Aquarius Records would be happy to sell you a cd-r.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go cover my windows with aluminum foil.

As Bob Chabot said in 1981, is there any excuse 4U? Signed, Da' Mountainpen.

Florida Attorney General Pam Bondi

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I know you are doing your best to watch over me, AG Mizz Bondi, thank you. Feel free to contact the Wirtz detectives in Camden County in New Jersey, Ron Senior knows my problem is all real, but his hands are tied, I am quite sure that you know what I mean.

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**W-Map, courtesy of CHANNEL 12 local South Florida TV.**

Note: The image above may not reflect the current alert state for your county due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the alert and the map processing.

Advisory Colors Key

Winter Storm Watch

Flood Warning

Non-Precipitation Advisory

Flood Statement

Are you on this thing, BREAD and IF, OR 'as if', Doctor Garrigan???????????????????

A beautiful shot of LUNA, also known as the moon, and 'Goddess Diana', by the Romans.
She is real folks, you will see when you're dead!

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HELP ME PEE, YOU WILL BE OUT OF HERE BY THE END OF MARCH, and now it is 31 May, girl.

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EGG HARBOR CITY'S SECRET DAWN LAUGHING KING'S MAGIC SCHOOL OF GRINS AND TAUNTS, GOOD OLD HARBORFIELDS DETENTION CENTER, AHA-AHA-AHA, REAL FUNNY. NOW UR IN DREAM-LAND!

If anyone can find me PEE, it is e-bay genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!

YOU NEED TO INVENT THE 74-WP DEVICE, TRY AND REMEMBER.

SOMEONE WILL NOT GIVE ME A MOMENT'S PEACE, AND WE ALL MOTHER FUCKING KNOW WHO THIS IS, DON'T WE, CUNT LAPPING AGENTS, CONDOR AND FALCON, OF THE 1988 UFO THE COVER UP DOCUMENTARY, ON NEW YORK, NY, CHANNEL 11 TELEVISION, WPIX????????? And I know who they are. They are TYPE THREE EXPLORATRONS, and yes, time travelers is !another way for you to see this truth if you are not reading on my mother fucking dick chewing ass level yet, dudes and duddesses, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh that mouth!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

3+4—3×4—7+12—7×12 ****** But what is so awesome about the (3) and the (4) to begin with, some are asking me, WOW, let us go a little into this huge one, believers, and 'others', without me joining the ranks of one failed student-teacher from late in 1972, huh Danny Mackey, time MMCN! If anyone believed this, the world would be over, as we all know it, by noon, my time, tomorrow, the friggin fifteenth of friggin May. They will not, so I will safely tell it, Prosecutor Wirtz Senior; without slamming an AEB too hard with any keyboards from 1980 parallels that have beyond cool features, including CSV, equal or better to today's arranger melody models, and so on, but seeing these in another universe, and hearing them, does that officially make me the inventor of them here in this one, on or off of LIEMEOW Road and Happyhealthy Street intersections of phone taps????

Here is the story of last week, done a little bit more the way that would be pleasing to the great Almighty literary giant of Egg Harbor in New Jersey, Terry; please don't kiss me. Thank you. It was six days ago on Monday that I drove up to the Harvest. I wanted to tell the Manager who once was and said I was his pal, only he changed big time when becoming manager of the place, and this is why I detest power and capitalism and all of this shit. It turns everybody totally ugly and forgetful. The main thing that they tend to forget is that they all will pass the very same people who they were mean to once they became great hot shots, when it is their time and turn, to slide back down the ladder rungs of success, back into the great cosmic equalization. This does not mean I think powerful folks should be fools and give one thin dime to those begging for money. The wealthiest person on Earth would go broke in a year, just handing out fifty measly dollars to every not real well off person; man, woman, and child; just in the United States alone, and forget the world. What I do say is there is a horrible change that takes place in people, normally it is the smaller of the bigger people, such as JASPER, up there at the shit hole I used to work at through a stipend program, on E Street, in Washington, DC-13-600; that's actuality operated out of the Port Saint Lucie, Florida Office, on Route 1. LSS, I went up there back on Monday to tell him how Mikey had, or I thought at that time, had done me wrong by moving away and just dropping me as a friend after we had become very good friends, helping each other out in small ways when necessary, and enjoying talks on a more intellectual and stimulating level, than either of us can do by randomly conversing with just any helter skelter random person we may meet at the dam grocery store. I was wrong, and have since apologized for my inaccurate thinking, and accusations, and admit, I was a real nasty ass prick, and have learned that I will never ever engage in that type of petty conduct again. Hell if my own dam daughter can throw me to the wolves; then I shouldn't let anyone else bother me, even if that had indeed been the case, which it was not. He merely had become very preoccupied with major personal life problems for a month, after losing his job, and needing to move. Still, he managed to do a lot better than when I have a major crises, which happens very frequently throughout my miserable rotten life. His brother merely moved Mikey over to the next beach-house that he still owns, and he has another downstairs crib in there, merely moving about 25 yards tops, out one door, and into another one. With me, and not having anyone who cares a lick luck about me, Barbara Linglong Fonda; Ida been in some real serious ass trouble under a similar circumstance, bang on wood at '100' DB, not '199', those dam 'IO' keys '999' '000', they all are next to each other on the keyboard, 'UI', etcetera. Lately and especially this current lovely month of MAY, I definitely make the THIRTEENTH ANGRY MAN, right there, Mizz Jane Dirtweeds Sleazedisease??????????? I also told Jasper I would gladly pay him cash money, 100 dollars, to help me do a YOUTUBE PAGE. He at most is making a dozen bucks an hour, 15 total tops, and is not a rich man, with all his ego and demigod power up there. That is not a bad deal, and I would have paid him more for a really good one, along with also my own web page; such as the one that Eddie designed and posted on the net for me, back in OHM-7 somewhere. But he took my number and trashed it, as he always used to do when I worked there. But he did call Mikey and fink on me about what I had been nice enough to tell him. This only proves one thing, and that is that revenge or payback is never the correct action to take, especially when you are down and out all the way, and with no one anywhere in the mother fucking entire world who gives a shit if you should fucking live or fucking die, and that is my current situation, down in this so-called paradise hellhole misery, that lots of northern peeps, refer to, and call, F—L—O—R—I—D—A!!!!!! Some demonic supernatural or extraterrestrial event just occurred while I finished typing in the last sentence. I will not bother telling about it, as most if none would even believe it, but it happened on the dot of 5:05 PM, coming out of nowhere, totally invisible, and was along the lines of what David Roth and myself witnessed so often in the years between 1986 and 1999 for the most part, and especially after we made contact directly with both SSJKK, and then a few years after that, in a frenzy of fear to save our lives from some invisible assaulting power all around us that just popped up; the Camden County Prosecutor's Office, in Camden City, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG, on 12/05/1989. Hello to you too, School Play Participation Insistence, (SPPI) almost SIPRI, speaking of 'OHM'-7 a while back, and 1969 a bit further back, right Mister Ciprionni? If a 'WOW' was ever needed within a grouping of text words, this would be the quintessential time, laugh if you wish now, Mike McNulty! It is time, BC, to move this along now, and go about ten minutes after the moment that I walked out the Harvest place doors, and headed to the local area grocery store, the Publix; at the large mini-mall, at Virginia Avenue, and Route number 1. This is where some WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE power and technology, for reasons beyond my most stretched imagination; had me suddenly see, no, not a Walmart, that is a few miles to the west down Virginia which forks as it goes and becomes OKAY-2-CHOKE-ME Boulevard, becoming one of the on and off ramps, for the great interstate we all know and love, Drug Runners Alley and AKA 'I-95'. Walmart is a half mile before the highway, and is to the east of it. This is however the mini-mall parking area where I was convinced I had seen Mikey, only it was a major doppelganger, totally him, only with his hair different and bright yellow, and dressed like a wealthy man, or as my great LI Sound Yachtsman late cousin, might put it, “VERY COMFORTABLE”. LSS folks, it was not him, but right at that very time that 'some force or power' put this entity right in my direct path; Mikey was calling me, and leaving me a message on my voicemail system. He never came out and said it, but I know that Jasper called him, and told him that I said something not that pleasant to him, about Mikey; and I did. I had told how he used to accuse Jasper of a $10,000 theft that took place some time back. But I have come to learn that this is why I need to always remain totally fucking out of things, as the only person that EVER MOTHER FUCKING GETS INTO TROUBLE, as this must be programmed into the LAWN MOWER MAN MATRIX OF THIS WILD GAME AND SYSTEM; is the dude I see, when I am shaving in the dam ass morning; and ONLY THAT POOR FUCKED UP DUDE, no one else. Everyone else is PROGRAMMED TO DO EVIL AND SKATE ON IT, while I take the force fed shit, down the throat, EVERY MOTHER FUCKING ROTTEN ASS TIME, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!! But folks, there are a billion-trillion other subtle things, that are all WHY this stuff is happening exactly as it is, to me, and around me; and remains a total never ending constant for me and against me; not for a year, not for 5 years, not 10, not 20; but since the fucking cunt lapping day my mom dropped me on my rotten worthless head, while we lived at her mom's home, in West Philly, when I was one or two, and she was carrying me across 50th Street, to a doctor appointment, from the house at 440 South 50th Street; and no sooner were out the dam door, when she tripped on something, and fell on the street; and I fell down hard, and remember it horrifically to this very mother fucking second. Real funny, MC, real funny! Speaking of lovely persons, Happy BD, Sharon, and I doubt you are related to my kid's friend, although, they all got away with my situation because no one would ever suspect, huh Paul Pedersen, old buddy? I'll bet I am the whitest looking nigger you ever saw in your life, huh dog? Well, even I am not aloud to ride up into the hood and sing along to many of BOO and his pal's lyrics, if I wish to remain healthy up there late at night. Still, why did he not call my daughter when he was up at County Jail in early autumn in twenty-ten? Why call me? Jimmy, I still have the same question for you in late May of 2013 that I had back in late 1984, bub, YYYYYYYYY, why Jimmy Y, Y did you tell me these things; and also, JUST HOW DID YOU POSSIBLY FUCKING KNOW THAT THIS WAS ALL ABOUT MY FAMILY, WAY BACK IN 1974; and did you work on Project Jeanie-Dreams with my dad, at Majestic TS Level, in Fort Meade, or Fort MDE, 'mother-daughter-electron', and yes, then there is the H-2 stuff I learned the other night, about the cult that started in when else, but you all got it right 1984? This has to have a freaking W-O-W!

Now, I am not going to touch a million potential subjects on this blog, and basically, the second one hundred chapters, have all been reserved in a sort of semi-ordered structure by me, for really getting way more specific, about what the first 100 chapters in this M-5, just starts to get into; so be prepared to move forward with me, or else, hit that NEXT-BLOG BUTTON very soon, as unless you want to get real down and dirty filthy, into the trenches of warfare, and true horror; that poor old Walter could not handle, and so he booked out and off of the battlefield, and later made it up to the world, by becoming the greatest pleasure provider, to kids and all kids at heart of any age; but let me just say, that when this mud is all completely and totally explored; we will all get dirtied up, and I may be sued or killed, but hey; I can take the fucking heat, L-4 and BELIEVERS; can U?

MORIANITY PART V, CHAPTER XCI

1:57 AM, FRIDAY, 31 MAY, 2013

MORIANITY PART V, CHAPTER XCI

Death angel attacks are continuous, it has not been this bad ever with this having these continual bombardments of super high pitched tone bursts in either one or the other ear, totally knocking out all other sound, Weldon Saunders of New Jersey told me in the fall of 1987, this is the DEATH ANGEL, and I believe him. He knew other things that were true, and I will say no more, Sidney Mirrors Cohen Crown, not even in five freaking minutes, sir! But other than for this nasty annoyance, all is calm and quiet for me, a very freaking rare occurrence. PTL/ESS Mister Robertson, sir!Think what you want about me old pal and old boss, I know as much about you my friend as you can possibly ever know about me, and that goes for all of my wonderful nice friends and foes of the electronic ethereal world AKA the internet.

I was given a message today that all odds are, came from Almighty ISIS. I am very sorry, my brown eyed eternal love, I did not mean that rant the other day, IWALU and only you, and this darn song just has me so mad, after-all, I did write it, and you did use it to bring me another of your wonderful many messages over the years now, and all I want to do is what 60013 warned me not to ever try doing, and WOW, I guess he was right|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||!!!!!!!

Please do not be mad at THAT-BOY. I will behave and be a real good boy, and obey my awesome red hot teen-queen. See you soon at your wonderful shop on M-Boulevard in your great wonderful city. Yes I know what yesterday was, our 44 year anniversary of your shop, and your ‘friends’. WOW, Misses Marola, you are beyond awesome, oh great almighty Goddess ISIS. You were right about that other statement you made a little bit later on, and for that matter, at that time, I thought that I was lighter than I really was. Dave Roth said it all, old cold cruel world of doubters, haters, and backbiters; “Ain’t life grand”. Well, Dave, Roseann Shitholes and Bowel Lees Casino to you too, in those darker woods behind her place that night in late ’89. Yes those three dudes that worked at the top of that IOSC Avenue Boardwalk-On-ramp, Calvin, norman, and Lee, what a motley crew they made, right lovely Queenie? The other day I was thinking to myself, back on Wednesday the twenty-minth I believe it was, I liked the two friendly dudes a lot, but you can have the dude, Lee, as in 1969, he showed his ‘true colors’ by reading me a quiet riot act about enemies in Atlantic City, don’t ask, and I won’t tell, it is not all that urgent, and it is not all that pretty. Still, I was saying how I liked those guys, to myself in the bathroom while shaving, and then said to myself, well, I don’t miss Lee. Then I burst into laughter and I guess my nabe next door, Mister Stanley, must have thought I had brought in a comedy video with me in to the bathroom. Miss Lee, if nothing else rules in that big apple, symbolism sure does, and so do all things tall and gorgeous. But if we subtract the B off of the place and keep the other initials, as in getting rid of Lee and keeping my pals Norman and Calvin; we end up with the great EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND. Show me how the cosmos is not screaming out in endless symbolic vociferousness.

Well folks, keep on keeping on, and let me crash and try appeasing the great ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||SIS. WOW, do I love that special teenager!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Whajusay Walter? WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA or was that WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABIT?

‘END TRANSMISSION, FOLKS’|

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MORIANITY PART 5, CHAPTER 00090-C

It is pussy chewing 3 in the dam morning, 05/30/13. WOW!

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THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.
CHAPTER 00090-C, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

CHAPTERS 00090-A AND 00090-B, ARE TITLED DIFFERENTLY; AND SHOW UP AS THE PREVIOUS TWO MORIANITY BLOGS:

Jupiter, Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.

This is 100% machine created, techno-pop, sampled from the intro.

YOU’LL BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983

NEW 2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC TRACK ALONG WITH ARE UP AT THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, LIKE DUH:

Only the opening title words are real.

The greatest fish in the whole dam copyrighted 1986 bay may be quoted as saying the following:

”WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,
AND WHAT, YOU ALL HATE TECHNO-POP SO MUCH, YOU WON’T LISTEN TO THE SONG?”

http://youtu.be/Vqg3oty0JMU 100% machine created, tkpop.

YOU’LL BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983

NEW 2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC

TRACK ALONG WITH: Only the opening title words are real.

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My blogs
Morianity Bible For Millenium Three:
Morianity Foundation
The Epitome of Harassment – Internet Version
To Whom It May Concern From The Head Morian
RATS, TATS, & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL
About me
Gender
Male
Industry
Non-Profit
Occupation
paranormal researcher
Location
Hammonton, New Jersey, United States
Introduction
Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.
Interests
I close my mind to nothing
Favorite Movies
all old movies
Favorite Music
most old music
Favorite Books
The Winds Of War, Gone With The Wind, Time Travelers From Our Future
You forgot your mom’s birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?
An angry mother. Also, a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.

If you have read this opening, feel free to skip this part.

FOLKS, AS I SAID TO THE COPYRIGHT OFFICE IN THE LATE EIGHTIES ON MY EPITOME OF HARASSMENT TAPES, GOOD MORNING, GOOD AFTERNOON, GOOD EVENING, WHATEVER THE CASE MAY BE. How can I possibly know when you are reading what I am writing? I AM not the great ISISCYLLA SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE, and never will be, sort of like my old pal David Charles Roth’s only show in town. How he would always remind me, seemingly on a daily basis, that the WOMO-MILITUFORCE is not the only show in town, nor will they ever be. I believe the tapes are somewhere available in the great Library of Congress, Copyright Office, in Washington, District of Columbia, a place may I add with a very liberated attitude where the age of sexual consent should be placed, and what is good for the lawmakers, is good for everyone else, and if that is not true, just exactly how have I misspelled America? XIII is the number by the way, such a tender age and how the perverts must wonder why this is not common knowledge and all move into our great capitol city, right Roy? I still cannot believe that you told me this, or that nobody seems to know it, know matter how I spread around what you said to me, old pal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This will be the master sheet for PART 5 of MORIANITY.
You may skip through this by scrolling, any time, folks.

December 12, 2006
More Crackpots- Meet Mark from NJ (MP3)

http://youtu.be/Vqg3oty0JMU ** song from 1983 redone, YBCO (C) HIM, ME.
This is merely a harmony track, I am trying to make a video and post the entire song, YOU’LL BE CROSSING OVER, MARK WAYNE MOHR, FULL COPYRIGHT AND OWNERSHIP OF SONG. Now at the risk of getting crucified, pigeonholed, or persecuted, read on, my wonderful great Morians.
At the risk of being pigeonholed as the Girl Who Writes About Crazy Cursing Dudes, I bring you Mark from New Jersey.  Mark has far-ranging theories on time travel, Armageddon, roulette and Donna Summer (the DEVIL!), which he angrily discusses in various telephone conversations. 
Station Manager Ken clued me in to this fella recently.  He was given a CD called “The Meaning of Life.”  The back copy states that it was made from a cassette found on the side of the road bearing the same title.  He’s really difficult to listen to, for a couple of reasons- The recordings only capture Mark’s side of the conversation and they seem to have been recorded either by a microphone placed somewhere in the room or possibly while Mark was standing outside on a windy day.  More importantly, he is insane.  Completely, violently insane. 
Mark claims to be both a time traveler and a descendant of King David.  His family will bring about the apocalypse through the activation of the Christ Android, currently dormant inside the 12 Planet.   And also that the 50 richest families in the world are trying to do him in.  Covertly, of course.   Also against him is Donna Summer, the Devil.  (Whether he means the disco Donna Summer, or WFMU’s own Jason Forrest isn’t clear.) 
Here then, are three selections from Mark’s version of reality:
Interdimensional Technology (MP3)    Android & Angel (MP3)    12th Planet (MP3)
If you need more Mark from NJ, Aquarius Records would be happy to sell you a cd-r.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go cover my windows with aluminum foil.

As Bob Chabot said in 1981, is there any excuse 4U?
SIGNED, THE MOUNTAINPEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Florida Attorney General, Pam Bondi:

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I know you are doing your best to watch over me, AG Mizz Bondi, thank you. Feel free to contact the Wirtz detectives in Camden County in New Jersey, Ron Senior knows my problem is all real, but his hands are tied, I am quite sure that you know what I mean.

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**W-Map, courtesy of CHANNEL 12 local South Florida TV.**

Note: The image above may not reflect the current alert state for your county due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the alert and the map processing.

Advisory Colors Key

Winter Storm Watch

Flood Warning

Non-Precipitation Advisory

Flood Statement

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compensates for fucking page eleven of eleven and about the 50th fucking Jane Sleazeweedsdisease attacks on me now in the past 100 hours or so, with or without any coded general 18 orders from lovely MAGGIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
W—–O—–W!!

I talk a lot about my copyrighted music, so here it is, folks.

Public Catalog
Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

Resort results by:

#
Name (NALL) <
Full Title
Copyright Number
Date
[ 1 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
For the record.
PAu000662409
1984
[ 2 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
I'm Criana.
PAu000724397
1985
[ 3 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.
PAu003351785
2007
[ 4 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Last number repeat–100 progression roulette system.
TXu000514390
1992
[ 5 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Lost love.
PAu000344219
1981
[ 6 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection, set 4.
PAu000546149
1983
[ 7 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection : set III.
PAu000442785
1982
[ 8 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo tunes.
PAu000325091
1981
[ 9 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr tunes.
PAu000411864
1982
[ 10 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Queen of blue.
PAu000825471
1986
[ 11 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Real good girl.
PAu000881543
1986
[ 12 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.
PAu002506106
2000
[ 13 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Saga of song writer Mark Mud.
PAu000501582
1983
[ 14 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
PAu002153196
1996
[ 15 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
SRu000332786
1996
[ 16 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah Callio of ACNJ.
SRu000362114
1997
[ 17 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Uncle.
PAu000540585
1983
[ 18 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
What's wrong?
PAu000724407
1984
[ 19 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
You call this music?
PAu000998574
1987
[ 20 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.
PAu001148157
1988
[ 21 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.
PAu001189027
1989
[ 22 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204017
1980
[ 23 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204015
1980
[ 24 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity music pre-book.
PAu002336935
1998
[ 25 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity tunes of 1998.
PAu002282717
1998

Resort results by:

Save, Print and Email (Help Page)
Records
Select Format:
All on Page
Selected On Page
Selected all Pages
Enter your email address:

Search for:
Search by:
Item type:

Help Search History Titles Start Over

Contact Us | Request Copies | Get a Search Estimate | Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) about Copyright | Copyright Office Home Page | Library of Congress Home Page

Public Catalog
Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 26 through 28 of 28 entries.

Resort results by:

#
Name (NALL) <
Full Title
Copyright Number
Date
[ 26 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204016
1980
[ 27 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Same title.
PAu003037983
2005
[ 28 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Thanx to the shadows.
PAu002237985
1997

Resort results by:

Save, Print and Email (Help Page)
Records
Select Format:
All on Page
Selected On Page
Selected all Pages
Enter your email address:

Search for:
Search by:
Item type:

Help Search History Titles Start Over

Contact Us | Request Copies | Get a Search Estimate | Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) about Copyright | Copyright Office Home Page | Library of Congress Home Page

BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING (GODDESS DIANA), SUBMITTED BY A CHANNEL 12 VIEWER, NOW PASTED FROM THEIR TV-APP.

MY BABY-BLOND DIANA ZUDLECRONESSIA ARTEEMIS.

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Here is what mother fucking happened to me on Wednesday the cunt sniffing twenty-ninth day of GRAYMAY, in 2013, AKA fucking yesterday.

I tried posting, actually copying my own blog at Blogger to paste into WordPress, and it did not take as it normally does with the blue color underlining. Then the entire system was frozen. These fucking freeze up hacks may not be being done by those I accuse of doing it when I get angry at the time. I do not know who is fucking with me, only that I am continuously being mother fucking screwed fucking with.

I had to manually hit my ON button for the PC Tower and then before it shuts down, I am able to hit a cancel icon that appears before it closes out, releasing me from the freeze hack, yet not shutting itself down, and needing to all be reprocessed and going through screens and hassles of built-in data recovery. I was angry, and needed to purchase a few bucks in gasoline and some grocery items to tide me over until my EBT and my Disability SSD monies come in on the second and third of June, and so my very first errand was not to the store and gas station, but someplace else. My rotten miserable family thinks they can stop me from posting MY OWN 1983 SONG and thinks this is all funny, I suppose. Fine, I am now working on other arrangements after exhausting a lot of older ones with no luck. It is very difficult to go against the wishes of the most powerful mother fucking goddess in all of creation, but this is my song, and I'll do with it what I want to, and I am the greatest fish in the whole dam 1986 bay, and so Mister Esolph, THAT'S THAT, or dawn-Marie King the late and not so dam ass great, it ISIS| (is what it is), what is the fucking ass dam difference, lads, lassies, labbers, and Labrador Retrievers, YO?

There were another two FIRE-ALARMS on Wednesday, and I don't mind telling you all that they're back on a real heavy roll again, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYA gimme a dam bwake, Margie Elmer Leo Fwudd, PWEEEEEEEEEEEZE!

Folks, dreams are a very funny thing. There is a ban on them, and has been for a long time. At earlier and earlier ages, we are taught by the generation ahead of us, to ignore them and not even discuss them. If all of Morianity is the delusion of a mad man, then why do these great folks of power and control, insist by their very own bizarre behavior, on proving my words totally to be the truth and totally accurate and real? We all know that we do not waste our time or efforts on any venture or endeavor that is of no serious consequence to us or our surrounding proximity in our lives. So if you all cannot add up 2 and 2 here and come up with the correct answer of 4, then by the gods, I really honestly feel very very sorry for you, I truly do. A three year old who is not blocking the truth with intentional self deluded bullshit, can see straight through my life and what is being done to me and is happening to me 24-7-365.2422 for the past 20-60 years of my current human existence and life. There is no rocket science involved here whatsoever. Shutting me up and not allowing me onto the real social media where my true story gets told and shared, is not just a violation of my rights, great folks out here, IT TRULY IS A VIOLATION AS WELL, OF ALL OF YOURS, unless you are not wise enough that is, to reciognize that tid bit of wisdom for yourself, and then if that be the case, you're lost and don't even know it. It is just like the youngest boy and girl of the Brady kids on that great old seventies show, “The Brady Bunch”, during their trip to the wonderful spectacular awesome GRAND CANYON. It was getting later and darker, but Cindy and Bobby Brady did not even become aware that this was their reality, until it was dark, and they WERE LOST. There is a lot of power when you take this small TV episode and this part of it, on this one show from a llong time ago by most people's standards; and seeing this in the light of what is now being told in my story here in the Morianity truths. Remember the hour hand on a watch or a clock. Unless the clock is huge, you cannot ever see that hand moving. Yet it does, without even seeing it move, stare at it for ten minutes, it does move, you really do not have to look away and come back in ten minutes, and the only magic that's going on here, is called the power of GRADUALISM. Never ever mother fucking underestimate this powerful weapon. Yes, I said 'weapon', as it is used by evil dark forces and total prick people the world over, against their weaker and defenseless foes, upon many an occasion. I should know. I lived at 1802 Robin Hill, in Voorhees, New Jersey, in 1980; thinking things were pretty good now for me in my life, and never ever seeing that powerful freight train that was heading straight for my fucking head, dead on. It crept up and crept up and crept up, not like real freight trains that roar along into the night. This was nice and slow, and gradual, and I did not ever see it moving, but when it makes contact and hits, the very same force is applied, and you are crushed all the same, not all at once, but slowly, agonizingly jammed against the cosmic wall of fucking doom, harder and harder, as though a real freight train had been in ultra slow motion all along, moving at a millionth of a mile an hour, but as years ticked onward, I find myself here and now, and totally wrecked and crushed, helpless as a fucking little baby, and with no parents to call out to for any help. This is no god I want to worship or love. This is a horrific evil monster who I have come to fucking totally deplore, and she will have to fucking murder me to stop my song, her song, that's the problem folks, it just fucking proves too many things in my Morianity Story, that have been yelled out now for so many years and years and years and years and years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Dreams my friends, are no more than us in other parallel realities, universes as real as the one that we live in while we are all awake. We do not all have the same lives or know the same people, it is all scrambled up a vigintillion times the power of a vigintillion and so much more, all interchanged, things and lives different, yet similar, do I not describe the dreams you all have, and also make perfect sense in relation to the scientists and their endless quest to figure out just where these other dimensions containing these other realities are all hiding. They are hiding in plain view, inside of your mind, really, better said, inside of YOU. Just as the waking world is really also just all inside of you. You all should talk to the great SIDEWALK SCIENTIST or call the great Public Broadcasting Network, and tell them to re-air that great show, they will know what I am saying, just call and tell them that you want to see that show, with the sidewalk-scientist, and when you do watch it, pay very close attention, to some simple, yet mind bending things; talked about by me, and also talked about by this really really cool dude; who also plays a cool organ and makes up cool tunes. Someday this world will eventually see I was telling you all the truth, but not in time for me to ever get a dam thing out of it, oh well, that was not what I was ever looking for anyway, just a little peace of mind and relief from the torment of my endless persecution by my relentless evil sick enemies, the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Kind folks, this force is stopping me from proving a lot of stuff, yes, but it is screwing all of you, the entire world, out of a life of bliss, keeping you all trapped in slavery, misery, and blind ignorant endless foolishness, and they know exactly what they are all doing, and they have the soul and conscience of a fucking stinky slithering sleazy lizard. This is all they are in their true form, a bunch of skunky scummy reptiles, crawling on their bellies and hating me day and night because they know I can do it better, and that I am indeed, the 1988 prophet of nothing, the one who knows the real truth about nothing, about the great VOID, and how it connects all of our reality. Everyone else remains in total darkness. What a fucking ass shame, YO!

Take not only hyperspace and dreaming, but random and pattern reality. Look at how it all fits together. Look at how I was involved with nice clothes before all this got started, and then six months later, SSJKK-ISIS thought it was so cool and funny to say BOO, and come to me in my 'sleep' and play the famous chain-game again. She will never tire of these things, you must believe this if you believe any part in Morianity whatsoever. MIDDIE-SCYLLA is endlessly and forever, exactly sixteen years old, it is always her birthday, and this is all she really ever is going to care about. Only those outside the jack-in, the Dave Roth Mark Mohr Trashy Landscapers Club of the eighties, we knew, but even with all that he knew, he drew a line in the sand that night in 1997 up at the highpoint Warren Grove military Games Installation, in the Jersey Pinelands. Why don't you ever come forward and tell what she did to you, Kenny Rogers, you can confront her you know, just go into a light trance and speak to her unconscious mind. Ask her why the Lucille crap all happened to you, old bud, before it is too late and you kick the bucket along with Inspector Henderson, Louigee, and Superman!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah Kenny, we all godda' go sometime, or wake up from our dreams to be a bit more accurate here, YO. Happy trails bumpkins. But should another Kenny be viewing this, take heart my old pal, I am just about to break through their incredible horrendous blockade. When I do, I know you'll be cheering for me. I kept all the secrets you told me, well, most of them, don't wanna' be a traitor to the young crowd. Still, we both know that it was out peeps who invented and built this great highway, without it, you, me, all of us, would still be playing and hanging in back yards and reading books and channel surfing on radio and TV, and that would be it. Our generation was the inventors and the genius behind all this, so please don't look down too far on us, it makes you all look a tad foolish in the eyes of reality. And son, that is just the way it is, so I believe that a 'WOW' is quite appropriate here!!!!!!!!!!

Many things are happening, and I told it all on my YOUTUBE PAGE, commenting on other videos. I said that the middle of 2013 would be wild, and it is only beginning, so be vigilant folks, and watch out behind you. Do a full 2-10. I called this to the very day from a year or so back, just as I called this super super absurd bull market endless rally. Sop tell me, if I'm such a shit head nut case, then how can all of this be?

HELP ME PAM BONDI, THEY ARE KILLING ME TODAY, FLORIDA ATTORNEY GENERAL

IT IS MOUNTAINPEN.

I AM GETTING NASTY FIRE ALARMS AGAIN.

I AM GETTING MAJOR COMPUTER HACKING AGAIN BY SOMEONE OR SOMETHING, WHO CAN EVER KNOW, THEY WILL NEVER LET ME KNOW, IT HAS BEEN GOING ON SINCE 08/15/86, AND HERE IS SOME OF THE STORY BEHIND IT, YO, IF IT TAKES AND POSTS, FEDS.

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THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.
CHAPTER 00089, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

**********TUESDAY, MAY 28, 2013 @ 12:27 AM-EDST**********

Here is the situation, Inspector Louigee Kent Henderson. Nothing just happens, all things happen for reasons, and random is merely a disguised pattern, on a grand cosmic scale. There are math formulas that are extremely complex that force those in the know, to in fact realize that the words spoken here are true and accurate. These folks cannot come out and just say this on TV, or other media sources, and alter society in a flash. It is way too controlled for that to ever be permitted to happen. Only certified looney folks such as myself can say these things, and then when they do, who listens? We are all looney, remember?

All of my dam life, I have tried for the very most part, to remain totally out of trouble. I try to go through every day taking the least amount of unnecessary risks, and never try to make enemies. I am not nor have I ever been, that typical bar guy looking for trouble, you know, a chip on the shoulder syndrome, despite with each passing year since boyhood, if anyone had a legitimate ass chip, it would be me. On more than one occasion, I have had the following words spoken to me by those who get to know me, paraphrased and not in precise quotations; it is as though you actually are trying to have the most miserable life in the world, or it is like you are trying to lose as much as you can in life when we know it is not the case. My pernt, sir Archibald Queen Bunker and others is simply that my nightmare is and has been, legitimately been recognized throughout the years, and by numerous non mentally disabled folks, and yet, this does not aid me in my situation, or in being believed by anyone with clout that would count, as only those type of individuals could be in a potential position, to ever expose the real covert problems involved; and then hopefully, go on to repair my life, through repairing these situations/problems/cosmic assaults upon my life, etcetera and whatever you may wish to label all of this.

Folks, there are some out here and especially the ones who never bothered to know the beginning of my blogs, the first nearly two and a half years, before the HYPERSPACE ALTERATION, that a moronic child with a dam runny dirty nose could see, if they would merely take off their GWPOS-BLINDERS for a dam ass second; and just look head on and straight into this thing; only my luck just ain’t that of the wonderful great IRISH, and ‘that’s 4 sure’, and I ain’t driving. Good believers out there, I was not back in Mullica Township in my mobile home, looking to be kidnapped by some very wonderful adorable kind loving people, nor was my desire to lose all of my worldly goods, and go gallivanting off into a cold wintry snowy night, into the darkness, and away from what was familiar to me for five and a half decades. This was done to me, by a mother fucker who will not rest until he takes over the WHITE HOUSE, and destroys any possible chance for America to be what it was designed to be, free, a land of opportunity, a place for basically happy people to live and interact, with an American dream, and most of you would fail the quiz on exactly what that is. Many think it means a home, a car, and a job paying double minimum wage or better. Many have many other ideas. But only about a quarter of the American population knows exactly what it officially means, so I will tell those who need to know. The American dream means that every generation will leave to the next generation, a better place, a place with a little bit or even a lot, but at least a little bit MORE, than we had in the current generation while we lived here. THAT IS THE OFFICIAL AMERICAN DREAM. Every 20th and 21st century American President, knows this, write to the White House and ask if I am lying to you, should you not trust me. Just how long has the American Dream been DEAD some may wonder. Well, as with all things, it is sort of a general average, so count out the entitled luxury owner demigod EW crowd, Corporate execs and other extremely wealthys out there, the ’99ers’ in case any of the OCCUPY GROUP still exist, as I think the movement died some time back, or at least they seemed to allow themselves to die in the media, and perhaps have all gone underground. The dead are all underground too, so that tells us everything without my needing to carry on this great conversation any further. Now before I totally ruin the day of Mizz Terry Nonscatterbrain Harborheads, of Egg Harbor City, New Jersey, USAESMWG; this blog will move around a lot, and maybe some grinding and gear replacements might be necessary, about 130 days ahead of schedule if we back things up about half a decade, yes Mike McNulty, you may; but moving on; this example right here for those who know what’s being discussed, is a wonderful example of my point at present moment. People in every universe, block out painful memories. How can the field of psychiatry ever start to grow as exciting as it really could, unless we add in all of the appropriate necessary additional real dimensions to reality that Astral-Plane dream down folks, or us, are interacting in in what you otherwise may think of as waking-hyperspace. Before moving on, I was given a major CRAMPANA ATTACK today, to quote the late great Mister David Charles Roth, so I will have to break off for another shit attack now, and will be back in 20 minutes or so, good people. Now I’m back at 17 minutes shy of one in the morning. To you, this time never passed, but to me, I was in the bathroom crapping out my guts for the third time today. Except for this, all was quite OK for me on the holiday weekend, other than for normal horse shit nabe action from time to time off and on, back on the first two days of the holiday, yelling and doors and typical stupidity, but nothing real bad or real long lasting. Let’s move this right along.

First off, I need to tell you that I had quite a wild talk the other night or as you may look at it, while dreaming; with the great Almighty Goddess, MIDDIE, and I am more convinced than ever, that this is as close to human truth as we can ever get in waking brain interaction. There was a powerful early 20th century discovery that is known the world over, energy equals mass times the speed of light squared. The inverse of this equation is way more urgent however, for humans to concern themselves with, and that would be energy equals mass divided by the speed of light squared. There is no magic to squaring, take a square, and see how it has four sides, so if each side of the square’s perimeter is say 4 inches, the old well established geometric truth is the perimeter or the total length of the square if it was all taken apart and turned into one straight line, is P=S4. When a number is next to a letter, it means in basic simple algebra, we multiply. So four inches on all sides is 4X4 or a perimeter of 16 inches. It really is just that simple, only mass and energy is a bit more complex, yet I am going to tell you a simple truth about it. Nothing is real, NOTHING. NOTHING is WHAT IS REAL. It works both ways, ladies and gentlemen. In the TRUTH of all things, the very sentence as I just pluralized it, makes it become inaccurate. So in the TRUTH, there is VOID, a lack of any dimension, or another way that I have said it throughout my many blogs, is ”ZERO-DIMENSION”. There is no mass and no energy, there is no space and there is no time, there is only TRUTH or if you prefer, EXISTENCE. Taking it to a less philosophical way of putting it, I then go on to add the initials of EWI, and they stand for Existence Without Interaction, not to get Mayor Bloomberg too excited, and don’t anyone let him bullshit you and tell you that him and his three city newspapers, do not know exactly what I am saying here. They would be lying if they said they don’t know, I still have the dam newspaper, and that’s as far as we need to go. Some few things managed, by providence or whatever; to survive my trip down here, to freaking Florida, in middle December of 2009. Now the inverse of the famous Albert Einstein formula is what matters, once things all got started, and this would be a huge Moby dick sized blog in and of itself, so let us skip it good people. But once we did become the original energy that managed to dream out and away from the void total nothingness, certain things did happen, and that as well would require a lesson book the size of ten or so of Tolstoy’s great novels. So screw that for right now. Once an Astral-Plane existed, all of the unique individual people that we think we all are here in fifth dimensional hyperspace, as you are reading these words right now, are really existing on this higher reality where atoms vibrate much faster than they do anywhere in the hyperspace below that contains virtually limitless 4-D universes, each one designed to create one LIFE-WORLD, the entire universe is a perfectly structured engineering marvel, that is necessary, just to create one planet that can sustain the type of life that we all are, whether anyone out here wants to hear this powerful truth or not. However, there are more parallel universes and parallel EARTH worlds, than there are stars in the sky, and vigintillions times that amount, and yet still more and more and more. In this hyperspace, are not only all possible worlds but in all possible times, relative to what we think of right now, as right now to us. Don’t even try breaking your mind into pretzel city worrying about this, and let me just get back to the inverted great formula. This would be M=E divided by C SQ. M means MASS, E means ENERGY, and C means the CONSTANT, and this constant is LIGHT VELOCITY. This super cool dude figured out that mass and energy are like Kent and Superman, one and the same thing, except for the fact that they change clothes, or in the world of physics, they either are the twin of themselves when multiplying by C-SQ or dividing by C-SQ. But we are not trying to win the Second World War and make any nuke bombs, so we are now more concerned with the not so famous flip- side of the great Brady kiss, and that is that this magical thing called human consciousness, is somehow quite miraculously, taking the realer energy world that the Astral-Plane is made of, and dividing the full reality of it and our awareness as it, by C SQUARED. Now we can get born into a physical mass or matter-body, and exist and interact in a world of material tangible objects. This of course is pure illusion, and when this dream-down off of the Astral-Plane appears to end by a physical body no longer alive and moving, and able to catch time’s reflection, or light; as in biblical reference thousands of years back, when referring to the ”quick and the dead”; that is what we all in our limited minds, perceive as death, or go as far as calling physical-death. Our mind in various levels of consciousness is therefore giving us the ability to exist in this dream with a unique personality and life, in a space-time continuum, where without this, we could have no interaction. The Astral Energy life is totally opposite of this. There, you need the interaction first, and then that interaction is what actually goes on to CREATE the Space and the Time, in a sort of starry and dreamy way, that conscious mind could never fully hold or grasp, as it is tuned to this physical realm of direct opposite reality or a lower truth, if you will, again, biblically following the great words of wisdom from prophets, who proclaim that here in this life, we all see through a glass, dimly. Don’t take me at my word, ask your preacher or read it for yourselves. Now I need to move onto more religion, only it will not sound at all like what you’ll get in a church on a Sunday or at a Wednesday prayer meeting, I assure you.

I do not proclaim to have a lot of answers, but I do have life experiences that do not equal the vast majority. I’ve come to share them on a blog for about seven and a half years now, and called this project MORIANITY, but this is not as new as the start of 2006. It began late in 1995, in Williamstown, the place where I was suddenly influenced and drawn to the Almighty Goddess Herself, or ‘MIDDIE’ if you will, M-D-E (MOTHER-DAUGHTER-ELECTRON). All truths seem to reverse on the material world, for reasons that even elude me and Morianity so far, but I know that this is the truth nonetheless. This is of course one reason why most folks insist on the MALE dominance of all things, when without the female, how would any creation go on past one single generation? Men may despise that concept, but just prove me wrong on this fact, and I’ll eat a hat full of dog shit for all of you,, at Macy’s front window on Christmas Eve, with all the media coverage the pops can throw at me. I know what I know, and only what I know, nothing else, and nothing less. I know that I was shown a powerful truth over the holiday weekend, with two powerful interactions on two separate nights. I was forced to recall a repressed memory upon one of these two occasions, and now realize that when I empowered that Mountain Dew glass bottle on Magnesonic, and made it become the IO (image-object), of Sarah Krassle, it was the early summer evening of August 14, 1986. Once it was broken in the basement on the hard floor, despite it being wrapped in numerous sheets of paper, and a face drawn on it as well as her name printed on it, Dave Roth and myself then proceeded to take this destroyed IO down to Long Beach Island, somewhere a bit south of the Causeway where you cross over onto the island from the mainland, and the only bridge ever built to my knowledge; and we went to the beach and it was around 10-11 at night, and it was warm and calm and dark with bright stars all around above us, and we dug a deep hole in the sand, put this IO down into it, Dave and I expectorated onto it and then we took our feet, and covered up the hole. Instantly, the waves got very rough out at sea, and the wind began to blow very hard. Clouds covered the stars within what seemed a minute or two, and an icy cold chill came from the water and we suddenly were icy cold. We returned to my home at 1931 Route 70, (Marlton Pike) in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, USA, Earth, Sol, Milky Way Galaxy, (ESMWG), and got home shortly before midnight. Before I got home, I began to get a horrible painful earache out of the blue, and asked Dave if he wanted to go over to the Garden State Hospital on Route 73, but he was tired and went back to the house, got into his car and drove home. This was the end of my life as I knew it forever and forever. The clock struck midnight, and my ear felt as though Mike Tyson punched it as well as bit it off. I was suddenly in excruciating pain, and drove myself to the hospital where I was given some drops for it, and some pain medication and antibiotics. Around 2 in the morning, I drove home after stopping at an all night pharmacy nearby. I drove home, and crashed into bed. I had the most incredible interaction or dreaming-experience of my entire life, rivaling even the early June of 1980 one with SSJKK singing the song at the foot of Tennessee Avenue and the boardwalk’s on-ramp, called, “LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS”. It was now 6 years and two plus months later than that, it was the morning of the fifteenth day in August, in 1986. This was the day that life STOPPED for me, FOREVER, and was altered for me, F—-O—-R—-E—-V—-E—R!!!!!!! All this time, I had remembered this as happening a few days after my trip into the Big Apple, with David, the night that he wanted to see his music group at some downtown nightclub, called, “NEW SHOES”. Allow the pathetic Babylonian King of New Shoes, to now tell you some more of this horrific disaster ass nightmare, AKA KING NEBNOOSHOO at C-SQ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was remembering it wrong. SSJKK showed me a calendar and pointed with an edict and a frightening expression on her lovely face, full of anger and wrath; and she made me come to realize how I had angered her so much, first at the Medport Diner in the spring time of 1986, by telling David about her and some of the stuff about the 1969 wild dream she had given me and the Book of the Beach, and all of it. Then I went onto try killing her, with Magnesonic. This, she said is not going to be forgiven until a lot of suffering is done on my part, and I find a way to make things right. She asked me to remember a particular sentence that was said to me just 12 days earlier in New York City, when she came up to my car that night around half past ten, and I had been relaxing in the passenger seat and David was inside of the nightclub. Instantly I remembered and it made no sense in 1986 and I dismissed it and never thought of it again, but she had spoken a very wild thing that sort of made my blood rush to my face I am sure, and being dark, I doubt she remembers seeing my face, but we were talking about how you do not always get second chances in life, and I had told her about a male nurse named John McDowell who lived at 2041 Chestnut Street, in Philadelphia in Center City, back in 1963, and he had spoken this to me, and I mentioned that to her during this somewhat fascinating conversation that lasted all of about 3 minutes if I am recalling that part of things accurately. Now do not confuse Bob McDowell, these two dudes were totally different peeps from two totally different times in my life, the FCC Chairman McDowell, I was about three and a half years older than he was, while the male nurse John from Philly, was already a grown man, back when I was around nine years old. His mom also nursed at the same hospital, and was our neighbor, and he was visiting his mom, and my mom had become quite friendly with her. Still, SSJKK said to me in her new form in 1986, something to the extent of how right this guy was, and how I would probably come to realize it more and more with passing time. Why this made chills go up and down my freaking spine when I sat next to my own daughter in the car that night and did not know she was my kid, I do not know, but I do know, that this is an awesome reconstructed memory. Now this is page eleven of eleven, so let me please try and compensate with my lovely FIVES, good folks. 5555555555555555555 plus 55555555555 times 5555555 and divided by 55555555555555555, is equal to who cares? Just let me stare at these fives, YO!

Folks, is a freaking ***W—O—W*** appropriate here?
There is a lot more to tell, and I will just tell a very tiny ass bit of it, my wonderful viewers and believers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She had taken me into the days where I work as Labber Zeejins in the late twenty-two hundreds. This is where she showed me this with a very strange pointer that was about 50 inches long or more. I never saw so much anger on her face, it scared me to death, and I admit, I thought my next spot was the Huntington Bay Weeds, with boy-taker Volleyball Player, nameless friend. I know what she can do, I HAVE SEEN, and I’ll say no more, for total fear of life and limb. Still, great SARAH KRASSLE, you know I AM THAT-BOY, and you know no matter what, and how all of this might play out, IWALU, and yes, I need your codes to show, and I told the Copyright Office this, and I know they know all about us today, and I know you know it as well, oh GREAT 1. Queen of Babylon OH GREAT ISIS, I AM so sorry for all I have said and done, and will be a very very GOOD BOY, I promise you, oh great TEEN QUEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I SURRENDER, I WILL OBEY, I WILL NOT BE A SHELLFISH, Sharkey says, ‘UNCLE’ at a hundred thousand bells of SPL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You have proven to me a billion times over, great one, JUST WHO RULES THIS EMPIRE, please accept my eternal apology, MC!

When I was being shown these things by Almighty ISIS, L-4; I was in the very same room that I was in when Professor Gawky Gaukauk was conducting that class at the Teck Bay Mystery School, only the room had been recreated. I was not on the Astral-Plane. I was merely in a parallel reality, or what you would call, in a very vivid dreaming experience. After I had been shown and forced to recall these things, I walked out alone, and in the hallway, was the laser retraced Donna Summer, not Jason Forrest of WFMU RADIO, but the dynamite darling of disco herself. All my old blogs talk about how I told the story, the true accurate story of what had happened to me on Walker and Water Streets in southeast Philly in 1988 while employed by Dorothea Dario, the pig who cheated her employees out of their rightful hours and pay and was reopening new companies as fast as the state of New Jersey was closing her down, and who belongs in Federal freaking prison. She beat me up when I was fifteen, and the my bicycle into the dam river. She does not think I remember her, but I do, on that early icy snowy January 1970 day at the Newton Creek near the recently built Burger King on the White horse Pike, in West Collingswood, just down the road from where Michael Landon AKA Ugie Googie Horowitz, went to the high school there on West Collings Avenue, before he played little Joe on Bonanza, and went on from there to star in many television roles. Aniwho, we need not get off into a dozen stupid ass tangents for now, believers. This is what got me onto SOCIAL SECURITY DISABILITY the very first time that I applied, when I told them the true story about World Labs up in the future, and how I had retraced 600 people from this time period, up there. This was in the days of my joining the Haddonwood Swimming club, in 1994. I joined on June 27, and within a few months, I was on disability. I still am. Folks say I am crazy, maybe I am. I know the truth, some others know it too. Then you have the Bluebook Warren Club of Disinformation, and the other MDE, with an EA in-between, sort of a magic symbol if you ask me, as in Fort MEADE, you get Mother-Daughter-Electron, and you also get Einstein Albert out of these initials. Then there was 2008. Say what?

Here is the story of last week, done a little bit more the way that would be pleasing to the great Almighty literary giant of Egg Harbor in New Jersey, Terry; please don’t kiss me. Thank you. It was six days ago on Monday that I drove up to the Harvest. I wanted to tell the Manager who once was and said I was his pal, only he changed big time when becoming manager of the place, and this is why I detest power and capitalism and all of this shit. It turns everybody totally ugly and forgetful. The main thing that they tend to forget is that they all will pass the very same people who they were mean to once they became great hot shots, when it is their time and turn, to slide back down the ladder rungs of success, back into the great cosmic equalization. This does not mean I think powerful folks should be fools and give one thin dime to those begging for money. The wealthiest person on Earth would go broke in a year, just handing out fifty measly dollars to every not real well off person; man, woman, and child; just in the United States alone, and forget the world. What I do say is there is a horrible change that takes place in people, normally it is the smaller of the bigger people, such as JASPER, up there at the shit hole I used to work at through a stipend program, on E Street, in Washington, DC-13-600; that’s actuality operated out of the Port Saint Lucie, Florida Office, on Route 1. LSS, I went up there back on Monday to tell him how Mikey had, or I thought at that time, had done me wrong by moving away and just dropping me as a friend after we had become very good friends, helping each other out in small ways when necessary, and enjoying talks on a more intellectual and stimulating level, than either of us can do by randomly conversing with just any helter skelter random person we may meet at the dam grocery store. I was wrong, and have since apologized for my inaccurate thinking, and accusations, and admit, I was a real nasty ass prick, and have learned that I will never ever engage in that type of petty conduct again. Hell if my own dam daughter can throw me to the wolves; then I shouldn’t let anyone else bother me, even if that had indeed been the case, which it was not. He merely had become very preoccupied with major personal life problems for a month, after losing his job, and needing to move. Still, he managed to do a lot better than when I have a major crises, which happens very frequently throughout my miserable rotten life. His brother merely moved Mikey over to the next beach-house that he still owns, and he has another downstairs crib in there, merely moving about 25 yards tops, out one door, and into another one. With me, and not having anyone who cares a lick luck about me, Barbara Linglong Fonda; Ida been in some real serious ass trouble under a similar circumstance, bang on wood at ‘100’ DB, not ‘199’, those dam ‘IO’ keys ‘999’ ‘000’, they all are next to each other on the keyboard, ‘UI’, etcetera. Lately and especially this current lovely month of MAY, I definitely make the THIRTEENTH ANGRY MAN, right there, Mizz Jane Dirtweeds Sleazedisease??????????? I also told Jasper I would gladly pay him cash money, 100 dollars, to help me do a YOUTUBE PAGE. He at most is making a dozen bucks an hour, 15 total tops, and is not a rich man, with all his ego and demigod power up there. That is not a bad deal, and I would have paid him more for a really good one, along with also my own web page; such as the one that Eddie designed and posted on the net for me, back in OHM-7 somewhere. But he took my number and trashed it, as he always used to do when I worked there. But he did call Mikey and fink on me about what I had been nice enough to tell him. This only proves one thing, and that is that revenge or payback is never the correct action to take, especially when you are down and out all the way, and with no one anywhere in the mother fucking entire world who gives a shit if you should fucking live or fucking die, and that is my current situation, down in this so-called paradise hellhole misery, that lots of northern peeps, refer to, and call, F—L—O—R—I—D—A!!!!!! Some demonic supernatural or extraterrestrial event just occurred while I finished typing in the last sentence. I will not bother telling about it, as most if none would even believe it, but it happened on the dot of 5:05 PM, coming out of nowhere, totally invisible, and was along the lines of what David Roth and myself witnessed so often in the years between 1986 and 1999 for the most part, and especially after we made contact directly with both SSJKK, and then a few years after that, in a frenzy of fear to save our lives from some invisible assaulting power all around us that just popped up; the Camden County Prosecutor’s Office, in Camden City, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG, on 12/05/1989. Hello to you too, School Play Participation Insistence, (SPPI) almost SIPRI, speaking of ‘OHM’-7 a while back, and 1969 a bit further back, right Mister Ciprionni? If a ‘WOW’ was ever needed within a grouping of text words, this would be the quintessential time, laugh if you wish now, Mike McNulty! It is time, BC, to move this along now, and go about ten minutes after the moment that I walked out the Harvest place doors, and headed to the local area grocery store, the Publix; at the large mini-mall, at Virginia Avenue, and Route number 1. This is where some WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE power and technology, for reasons beyond my most stretched imagination; had me suddenly see, no, not a Walmart, that is a few miles to the west down Virginia which forks as it goes and becomes OKAY-2-CHOKE-ME Boulevard, becoming one of the on and off ramps, for the great interstate we all know and love, Drug Runners Alley and AKA ‘I-95’. Walmart is a half mile before the highway, and is to the east of it. This is however the mini-mall parking area where I was convinced I had seen Mikey, only it was a major doppelganger, totally him, only with his hair different and bright yellow, and dressed like a wealthy man, or as my great LI Sound Yachtsman late cousin, might put it, “VERY COMFORTABLE”. LSS folks, it was not him, but right at that very time that ‘some force or power’ put this entity right in my direct path; Mikey was calling me, and leaving me a message on my voicemail system. He never came out and said it, but I know that Jasper called him, and told him that I said something not that pleasant to him, about Mikey; and I did. I had told how he used to accuse Jasper of a $10,000 theft that took place some time back. But I have come to learn that this is why I need to always remain totally fucking out of things, as the only person that EVER MOTHER FUCKING GETS INTO TROUBLE, as this must be programmed into the LAWN MOWER MAN MATRIX OF THIS WILD GAME AND SYSTEM; is the dude I see, when I am shaving in the dam ass morning; and ONLY THAT POOR FUCKED UP DUDE, no one else. Everyone else is PROGRAMMED TO DO EVIL AND SKATE ON IT, while I take the force fed shit, down the throat, EVERY MOTHER FUCKING ROTTEN ASS TIME, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!! But folks, there are a billion-trillion other subtle things, that are all WHY this stuff is happening exactly as it is, to me, and around me; and remains a total never ending constant for me and against me; not for a year, not for 5 years, not 10, not 20; but since the fucking cunt lapping day my mom dropped me on my rotten worthless head, while we lived at her mom’s home, in West Philly, when I was one or two, and she was carrying me across 50th Street, to a doctor appointment, from the house at 440 South 50th Street; and no sooner were out the dam door, when she tripped on something, and fell on the street; and I fell down hard, and remember it horrifically to this very mother fucking second. Real funny, MC, real funny! Speaking of lovely persons, Happy BD, Sharon, and I doubt you are related to my kid’s friend, although, they all got away with my situation because no one would ever suspect, huh Paul Pedersen, old buddy? I’ll bet I am the whitest looking nigger you ever saw in your life, huh dog? Well, even I am not aloud to ride up into the hood and sing along to many of BOO and his pal’s lyrics, if I wish to remain healthy up there late at night. Still, why did he not call my daughter when he was up at County Jail in early autumn in twenty-ten? Why call me? Jimmy, I still have the same question for you in late May of 2013 that I had back in late 1984, bub, YYYYYYYYY, why Jimmy Y, Y did you tell me these things; and also, JUST HOW DID YOU POSSIBLY FUCKING KNOW THAT THIS WAS ALL ABOUT MY FAMILY, WAY BACK IN 1974; and did you work on Project Jeanie-Dreams with my dad, at Majestic TS Level, in Fort Meade, or Fort MDE, ‘mother-daughter-electron’, and yes, then there is the H-2 stuff I learned the other night, about the cult that started in when else, but you all got it right 1984? This has to have a freaking W-O-W!

Now, I am not going to touch a million potential subjects on this blog, and basically, the second one hundred chapters, have all been reserved in a sort of semi-ordered structure by me, for really getting way more specific, about what the first 100 chapters in this M-5, just starts to get into; so be prepared to move forward with me, or else, hit that NEXT-BLOG BUTTON very soon, as unless you want to get real down and dirty filthy, into the trenches of warfare, and true horror; that poor old Walter could not handle, and so he booked out and off of the battlefield, and later made it up to the world, by becoming the greatest pleasure provider, to kids and all kids at heart of any age; but let me just say, that when this mud is all completely and totally explored; we will all get dirtied up, and I may be sued or killed, but hey; I can take the fucking heat, L-4 and BELIEVERS; can U?

SLAM BANG BONG BOOM ZAM, my thug neighbors are really paying homage to KALI’s GANG, huh, very informative, H-2? It’s half past fucking midnight, they don’t care, just sell your drugs and have your parties, and decent people be damned. I will tell you world, I thought Jersey was fucked up, this Florida game down here is even more rotten and corrupt, but in its own way, completely unlike the northeastern areas of my earlier life. In some ways, the stuff is not any different, as it is all part of the shit that is surrounding me, that the new age folks and ancient-astronaut theorist folks call star visitors/travelers/aliens/ET aliens/ etcetera; and the church and religious faith folks call forces of darkness, demonic or satanic, the enemy, the fall of mankind through sin and the Adam and Eve stuff, and along that line. One thing that remains constant with me, and that all connects up with the same truth, that different folks merely ‘believe differently in’; is the WHAT’S MY EXCUSE deal, that is discussed in both the new Morianity of the internet days in this century, as well as on cassette tape back when it began in 1995 from my apartment in Williamstown, Giant-Officer Syndrome of Missourians, in New Jersey. This is not something invented by Tom Cruise and his Top-Gun movie around the Prophet of Nothing days. Hollywood stole it from me after I had originally copyrighted my Epitome of Harassment project in the late eighties, from my residence in Moorestown, New Jersey, on Central Avenue. I kind of wonder if a little Magnetic Sound Machine Irony is not in and through this, as a result of what I’ll now be telling you, good believers, and others. You see, back in Mullica Township, New Jersey at the Plageman Trailer Home Park (Mullica Mobile Manor) as it was called when I was living there and still may be; I told the landlady how the boob neighbor next to me, Richie, blared his TV set at all kinds of hours. Nothing was done about it when I was the only one complaining. But when the neighbor both on his other side, as well as the ones across from the driveway to his trailer, also complained to her, then and only then, was it stopped, and he was told to cut it out or move out. Same thing here in Fort Pierce, Florida and at this PHA building. The subwoofer box was complained about by numerous nabes, not everyone here is a druggie thuggy, KALI, CALLIO AT&T-TEN. But when it is just the banging doon that is right across the hallway from me and only me, I’m stuck with it. Sure, I called the police months ago to complain about their noise, but nothing was done, they did not answer their door, and they merely laid low for a week or so and then resumed normal uncouth behavior patterns. Is this supposed to come as some big shock to me, folks? Hopefully not, as it did not. After decades of hell and shit, I pretty much am onto exactly how most of the mechanics of my misery, really operate and work, covertly behind all of the dam fucking OZ-CURTAINS, Glinda and Dorothy. Not only don’t I surrender, Mizz Bondi, Florida State Attorney General, but as long as breath and life is in this body; I will shout out and tell a whole lot more stuff. We have not covered 5 percent of my story, and anyone thinking we have is a fool. Morianity could stop right now or even in 2010, and enough would have been told, so as to know that my tale of woe, is known publicly; and adding 100 more years to it, really will not make that much difference. Still, I will go on. Originally, I was planning to wrap it up completely by Memorial Day, and folks, I HAVE CHANGED MY MIND. My only weapon of fucking defense, is the power of the pen, and the typewriter, and now so it seems; the computer, and this blogging shit. So on we will go, most likely until the mother fucking day that I die. As long as they can have an excuse, this will never stop. Can they always have an excuse? Well, look at Washington, DC, and if you really need to, then visit the dam city and come to learn a bit about it. Then you tell me if they’ll always be able to fall back on an EXCUSE! This is what was told on the original EPITOME OF HARASSMENT TAPES, copyrighted late in the nineteen-eighties, and please see it at the end of the blog, despite my misspelling the title, as I am not a good speller, and I fucked it up, and had no Microsoft Spellchecker back in those days. Yes, H-2, very very very informative, back on Thursday night. I enjoyed viewing your network the entire evening, and learned a lot of fascinating stuff. One thing nobody can teach me, and that is that this problem with whatever it is that is REALLY out there wherever somewhere, and myself; is NOT GOING TO EVER STOP, OR GO AWAY; and the first world famous wormhole is not the triangulated McGuire-owned one, in Atlantic City; but is a period in time, separating two tunes. I need not be cute, or smart-ass, to quote Mashell, or Dawn-Marie. We all know what is getting said, them, as well as Toni Beej. Between you and me world, the day he popped his head into the door of the studio where Ryan and I were, and made his statement just more than a year ago, things, bad as they were for me then, GOT WORSE, A LOT WORSE, you know, Gary sir of the Trekkers, (-77777777777777). I have some major stuff all planned out to tell you folks, but right now is not the proper time. Billy Harner taught me the power and importance of timing, and nobody ever seemed to need to teach that to many others, as they sort of; well they don’t all inherit it, and that’s for sure; but they do get it through street osmosis, or whatever Richard Karpf and his peeps might feel comfy cozy with; especially when playing poker, and with any hands from any reality; huh Josephine? I am so very disappointed in you, Jehovah Krassle, my endless love. I always knew I was right though, and I feel 9 feet tall, that everyone back in time who laughed at me, has to eat their words, and secretly realize that I was decades ahead of all of them. They can lie to themselves from here to Harold Camping’s next bullshit predicted doomsday, and beyond. The last laugh of the McNulty Club belongs to myself and perhaps, Mister Icabod Crane, right © Office???

Public Catalog
Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

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Full Title
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[ 1 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
For the record.
PAu000662409
1984
[ 2 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
I'm Criana.
PAu000724397
1985
[ 3 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.
PAu003351785
2007
[ 4 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Last number repeat–100 progression roulette system.
TXu000514390
1992
[ 5 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Lost love.
PAu000344219
1981
[ 6 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection, set 4.
PAu000546149
1983
[ 7 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection : set III.
PAu000442785
1982
[ 8 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo tunes.
PAu000325091
1981
[ 9 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr tunes.
PAu000411864
1982
[ 10 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Queen of blue.
PAu000825471
1986
[ 11 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Real good girl.
PAu000881543
1986
[ 12 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.
PAu002506106
2000
[ 13 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Saga of song writer Mark Mud.
PAu000501582
1983
[ 14 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
PAu002153196
1996
[ 15 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
SRu000332786
1996
[ 16 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah Callio of ACNJ.
SRu000362114
1997
[ 17 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Uncle.
PAu000540585
1983
[ 18 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
What's wrong?
PAu000724407
1984
[ 19 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
You call this music?
PAu000998574
1987
[ 20 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.
PAu001148157
1988
[ 21 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.
PAu001189027
1989
[ 22 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204017
1980
[ 23 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204015
1980
[ 24 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity music pre-book.
PAu002336935
1998
[ 25 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity tunes of 1998.
PAu002282717
1998

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Public Catalog
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Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 26 through 28 of 28 entries.

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[ 26 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204016
1980
[ 27 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Same title.
PAu003037983
2005
[ 28 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Thanx to the shadows.
PAu002237985
1997

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Welcome to hell. I have been here since August fifteen back in 1986. If you are reading this, then you are merely visiting HELL. Still, one welcomes his guests unless he is extremely vulgar, rude, impolite, and down right ignorant and revolting.

Every day, it is back to horrible fire alarms that wake you up at 2 or 5 or some other early time in the morning. There was one every day for days, and today was no exception. The filth bag neighbors across from me are on a non-stop slamming doors mode, it went on until 2:35 this morning, and management will not do anything, so when I am out later, I will, as I must, and even though it will do no good, send off two letters, one is to my local congressman and one is to the Fort Pierce Public Housing, the same address as is on my rent envelopes.

I am making plans to escape for Mexico, and all the peeps who may try and stop me, you all just go right ahead, as I am getting out of your mother fucking evil empire. I may not be able to run away from what all of you peeps call, GOD, but even she cannot stop me from running. Running away buys me a few months before shit catches up again to me, and starts all over. I need these lousy mother fucking few months. It beats going totally out of my cunt eating mind at the speed of light squared.
This evil empire will end up destructing from within, you'll-C.

I am now at 43% MPB, and my life will be over fucking shortly. I tried to do something in 1986 that went real wrong, and I will be dead soon, as a result of a very unforgiving goddess, despite bible lies and a lot more, really, put more accurately; extreme cleverness. No one ever needs to lie if clever enough, it is still a practice of deception, in my books, only nobody gives a fucking Potters shit about my magical, or non-magical book, so it appears, James Stuart, old NON HIGH SCHOOL buddy, old pal, from the cement business and buildings and loans. The last eight days has contained 6 SUPER FUCKING BOTBARS NOW, and this siege may very well be the new-times repeat of AUGUST 15, 1986, who can ever breath echo know for sure, on or off of all SWEPT AWAY PLACES, RIGHT LEGALLY BORN, NON GAGA DIANE ROSS, IN ANY WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WILL OUTLINE THE EVENTS OF THIS DAY FOR ANYONE WHO JUST MIGHT GIVE A TINY FUCKING SHIT, AND FOR THOSE WHO DON'T. I tried to do a person a favor who used to call me his buddy some time back, and he put a knife into me as soon as I waltzed out the fucking door. What I suffer through is so unbelievable, and beyond anyone's possible maxed out staggered imagination; there just are no words, and this is why Christianity, discusses a spiritual groaning language, when there are simply no words. You see folks, I may fucking cunt curse a lot, and you would do much worse if you went through ten days of my fucking hell, let me assure you; but I could witness in every cunt chewing house of worship on Planet Earth, that indeed, this GOD and this DEVIL thing, is all true and real, and what I know has zero percent to do with anything involving mother fucking FAITH, I promise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Before I get into mother fucking squat, believers and others; and maybe a student teacher from 1972 who may have changed careers, or stuck with it, who can know, Copyright Job Keeping Examiners of OHM-8; but I will make a quick fucking list of why things are SUPER BOTBAR, then I will go into some detail on matters that I feel need addressing in more elaboration, fullness, and elucidation. I found out today that I was knifed in the back by an old associate up the road. I learned that someone did a President National Park Clinton on me yesterday near the Publix, and yes folks, I meant to say that I made a fucking left turn, not a right one, quite obviously. You'd have trouble keeping a clear head too, if you were suffering 1% this fucking long and severely, so don't you dare fucking laugh at me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! After wasting 18 dollars on a new remote, the entire machine broke today, while I was trying to enjoy my Tuesday show of “L&O-SVU”, and as I said; THE MARKET WILL FLY TOMORROW, AND AS I SAID THIS YESTERDAY, AND IT OF COURSE FUCKING DID SO; I NOW PROCLAIM THIS ALL OVER AGAIN, ONLY IT WILL BE A MUCH HUGER MOTHER FUCKING AMOUNT. What do I mean by someone doing a Clinton? Well, real Morians and many enemies know exactly, but some may not, so I will tell it more clearly, YO, DOGS!!!!!!!!!! W—–O—–L—–F!!!!!!!!!!!! In 1995, at the National Park, in Redbank, New Jersey, I saw another non-high-school keeping jobs doppelganger, only this one was that of William Jefferson Clinton in this part of the high school, Sir Walter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let's book out of here; there are no fucking cock sucking war heroes on this fucking ass ambulance, brother Vineland Chain-EEEE!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

W——-O——-W!

I regret that smashed Mountain Dew bottle, in August of 1986, with all my heart and soul; and am so fucking like dead meat, peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YO! Yes, I was trying to watch my show tonight, and BAM, the machine burned up like a fucking bolt of fucking ass lightning had struck it!!!!!!!!

The dirt bag nabes have been in SLAM MODE ever since before this MAY 14 DEATH SIEGE began and struck me out of nowhere, just as in the middle of AUGUST IN 1986. This really is just a SOSO-WEIN shituation. The DOW JONES SHOT WAY UP, not as bad as I thought, but it was done on my back as always, with this major PROPERTY DAMAGE ATTACK, as the machine was giving me some trouble recently, and now I know that it was mother fucking RASPBERRY CARNIVAL HIT, BY THE WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!
Between the fucking cunt BACK STAB, THE NOISY NABES, THE FLYING FUCKING DOW JONES STOCK MARKET, AND THE DAMAGED PROPERTY, ON OR OFF OF ANY EGYPTIAN BABYLONIAN TERRITORY; THIS DAY WAS OFF THE SCALE FUCKING SUPER FUCKING COCK SUCKING ASS BOTBAR!!!
I AM GOING TO BE MOTHER FUCKING CUNT LAPPING MURDERED, MIZZ PAM BONDI, LOVELY FLORIDA ATTORNEY GERNERAL NON BREAKDOWN, AND I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW SO THAT AFTER I AM FOUND DEAD IN THIS APARTMENT, THINGS WILL JUST MAYBE GET LOOKED FUCKING INTO, I DOUBT IT, 99.9999%, BUT THERE AIN'T NO FUCKING LAW AGAINST ME HOPING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I need to stop typing for 4 minutes or so, it is nine past eleven, and I will not get struck by whore JANE for all the fucking dam ass love in the cat house cubed, YO YO YO!!!!!
OK, I am back, and am in regular time, Judge Copyrights, and let us all get a big ass laugh on the fucking pathetic Mountainpen!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! It is now 11X2, as some of us LABBER'S from 2294 would jokingly say, upon occasion, oh lovely Asian Girl, Sir Detective Brog. You do not need to know it all, L-4, and as of this current moment, whatever you all think you know about me and my situation and especially with TAWF and WOMO, let me say, that that suffices for the present moment, DOGS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where's Matches McGuire when you need him, Randy Vans??????????????????????????????? W-O-W!!!!!!!!!!
Doobey-doobey-doo, and Nothing-Prophets, from the great illustrious AT&T, who could go to bat for me, but won't, as they know what side their bread is buttered on, WO, BH!!!!!!! Yeah bud, you and PP said it all back in mother fucking ass time! Still I owe all of you an apology. I know what is really going on, and you are all just riding along and caught in the fucking currents and undertows of this GREAT DREAM!!!!!!!! Oh well, let us move this along, wonderful freaking peeps, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO! What are the odds that Mikey called me with a very logical explanation, while I was still outside yesterday, and all of the stuff that went down all around these incidents, without factoring in intentional fucking with the non-high-schools, oh wonderful © Office? Boy oh boy, does Mountainpen have a mother fucking wild ass vivid imagination, yeah shore; tell me another one, on or off the beach, and for the hell of it, GOV! Thanks for ripping me off in 2010, by not giving me my state income tax refund because I left New Jersey. Like I wanted to leave big guy, SHEEEEEEEEIT. If Ida stayed in that fucking house at 831 13th Street, I would not be here right now, dude! Even the nice girl from the Saint Lucie County Safe Space, told me I got out just in time with my life, GOV. Sorry if that pisses all of fucking New Jersey off, WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! Spin those crooked wheels of justice up there, in or out of the lovely ass casinos, oh no, they do not cheat, anymore than 'God' lies. But there are hidden ways of cheating and deceiving, and when someone gets onto this secret fucking shit, they basically are DEAD FUCKING MEAT, WORLD!!!!!!!!!

David Charles Roth would understand this 100% if he was not a victim of this horrendous fucking horse shit himself already, and dead. I TOLD YOU, AND 'AT&T' HAS A RECORD OF IT, 1000 TIMES OVER; THAT WE WERE DEAD FUCKING PEOPLE, AND WE ARE. I AM DEATH, YOU MERELY PERCEIVE A DAM ILLUSION, OLD BUDDY. This is why DEEDEE sits on my air conditioner outside, and follows me all over. She knows that I AM DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My death is way smaller than my HELL, so which of these two fucking entities do you kind folks out here think is going to become the dominating factor, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA????????
I will look down and see green and you will look up and see brown, but up and down, and green and brown; is all the same truth at zero dimension; and you know that old buddy, as I taught you this; and you echoed it right back to me that day in 1991, on Route 295. I remember it all like it was happening yesterday. “Because of Z-D-T”, you shouted at me at 100+DB, Uncle Dave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Move over, all dam light-switches from 1983, WEEEEEEEEEEEE! W—O—W!

Well people, this will be a WHOPPER TODAY, and you may quote any of three people here, Professor Pepperwinkle on the original high phone bill Superman show, President Obama, and then finally, little old nobody me, Mountainpen.

I am not going to entertain you all with huge fonts, super wild stupid swearing, or anything else like a blog over filled with brah's and bro's and bree's and yo's. You will do yourself an extreme disfavor if you skip it however, and you just go ahead and do this at your free will and choice, both WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE and tiny group mingled in, known as my Morians (BELIEVERS in my truths, for the most part or perhaps entirely). I am holding at a MPB-40% as of yesterday's horrendous emmereffing day that will close out when I finish this blog, post it up, and go to 'sleep', as mortal world residents would call the experience. But this blog will contain quite a bit of tattle tailing and powerful stuff, ignore it at your own potential funeral somewhere down the dimly lit road, good kind folks, whoever you are, as frankly, Mister Rett Butler, I do not care about those details, or for that matter, Congressman Andrews, whether the city or the river, ran away with my mind, or whether or not I have been lost in time, all these dam years, sir. I will open by telling you that I knew I would get clobbered on my dam systems-roulette tonight, and was not disappointed a small fraction, losing 26 and a half emmereffing units. You can expect the DOW JONES INDUSTRIALS to rise on tomorrow's markets, somewhere between 250 and 600 points, and you can bank on it folks, I PROMISE YOU, LOVELY MO! Yes, I played five games, and got clocked, mostly on the final game, as before that, I was only down three units, and was stupid, and could not see the freaking writing on the wall as clear as Johnny Clariton 1-2-3 ripoffs Lovernash, and merely quit at this small loss for the day, knowing fully well, it could only do a Howard Solomon Busted Eardrum, or an anti-dice, or whatever, but real followers need not force me to spell out the appropriate five letter word that starts with a 'W', and ends with an 'E', no rabbits, no Mike McNulty's, sorry, no time tonight. There's too much to rock chucking say and I do not wish to type all throughout the night. You will get your mind blown, unless you do not want to, and have joined the two great world renown clubs, the Missourians Club and the GWPOS CLUB, either or, or both; makes little difference. The days of my doing security detail out in my car, at the Cifaloglio place, comes to mind. The greatest system in the universe could be used, but if I was being dive bombed by WOMO ENEMY AIR STRIKES, and the skies were filled to the brim with nasty ass chemtrails, making me ill and causing me to crap myself many times; there is no way I could ever win. The weak link in the system I am currently using is an over abundance of house vig numbers as well as the evil-side-doubleton pattern, as one pattern wins, and the other one destroys the system, and when it comes in, it comes in with a vengeance, and you can play the dam wheel forever, and it will only change if you do the unthinkable and try betting against the system, as that inside the quantum foam of real true reality, makes the system then start to work, and the bad patterns go away. BUT, you still lose, either way you play the game, literally, and figuratively. I got both hits tonight, clocked by runt slapping green numbers or the house vig, as well as that one pattern that kills and seems to remain endlessly unless you quit that wheel, and this is the evil-side-doubleton pattern. This has a twin side that makes a killing, as do strings and alternates, but this one pattern type, will wipe out this particular gaming betting system, I promise. So why does the one pattern come out so vigorously, tenaciously, obstinately, and regularly, and by that I mean you can set your watch to it if you are me, as all super attacks will eventually bring the one pattern that just will not quit, and really wipes me out, and I can count the truck on it, folks. This was a serious botbar day, and I am five for seven now, in other words only 2-non-botbar days were in the last seven days total, and for the month, I am now 12 botbar days for the 20 days of May so friggin' far, good people. I did speak to Debbie Marotto, but it is merely a futile expenditure of energy. No on else complains, and the architecture of the system is why. Don't ask me the details, it is too lengthy. Being across from these bastard scum bags, only I get the full brunt of their evil wickedness, and unless others complain, no one will ever help me. You see, this is proof that I do not count in this world one tiny bit. No one gives a blasted dam if I live or die, not one soul, and so, I do not care one bit about this world, and it can go blow up right now, and that is just fine with me. Do you want honesty or deception, from this blogger. You're the one reading my words, do you want them to just be a bunch of pretty sounding lies? Now let me begin to break down this horrible botbar day for you, my believers. It started with hearing a loud aerial vessel outside, I am sure of it. Now the rest of the entire day was air free for me, nothing out of the ordinary, once I went out to do an errand or two, and boy will we explore what happened to me, good folks, and really, if you are not sitting down, I strongly urge you to do so before reading further along. If you do not and you hit your head when you fall down; please don't blame me, as I TOLD YOU!

After the air sound, while I was reading some of my stuff on the computer, and after being up and awake a short time, arising around quarter past eleven or so yesterday morning; the evil mother fucking neighbors across from me, began their 'BING BANG BONG BOOMING' of doors; over, and over, and over again; FORT PIERCE POLICE DEPARTMENT, AND NARCOTICS DIVISION! I was going to go out later on in the afternoon, but it was as though the forces of Misses 1969 Marola, and her 'MUST HAVE ME DO THE SCHOOL PLAY' ON MEMORIAL DAY, stuff all over again; that put me on some perfect cosmic schedule, just as it did back then, to be on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, at a perfectly timed minute and second, so as to witness and experience something; and this time, it was again, all done for me to be someplace, and witness another awesome something; and so let me now get to all of that. First I spoke to my Resident Manager, after returning from my errands, and not initially. All I did was take out my trash and throw it down the chute on my floor near the elevators, even my mail was not checked and received by me, until I returned back to the building. I wanted to get up to the HARVEST, and see my old pal, JASPER. I was not going to rest, until I told him a very horrible thing that Mikey had accused him of, with no evidence or real good reason whatsoever, and we will not get into it all, although, the local television reporters may know just exactly what is being talked about here right now on this blog. I never agreed with him about this, and did not like it when he did all that trash talking, but only after he totally screwed me over and vanished, was I boiling mad, and decided a few days ago that indeed, I would retaliate and tell Jasper how he has been trash talking his reputation all over town, and he has, and then Jasper told me, he is aware that someone in fact was spreading that around, and he was quite appreciative to learn that it was Mikey. I only rat out rats that deserve it. Only if you hurt me will I rat you out on something, really hurt me, and for no good dam ass reason. If I see something that is none of my business, I walk on, and that is that. I have seen and witnessed enough things in my life to write a billion essays on it, but again, I stress that I am not a rat. A rat does this. I do not really tattle-tail. I just feel that when someone does me real friggin' wrong, then they deserve a little payback, and if most people are honest with themselves, they will tell me they agree with me. Now I mean this people, be sitting down for what I'll tell you next, L-4.

I did not purchase one single item at the Harvest Store back yesterday, Monday, and I may have indeed needed a few snacks, some cookies and crackers and stuff that normally would cost 30 bucks, that you can get for about 5 bucks there, just because the stuff may be a month past expiration dates. 4:5, the stuff is fresh and good, so risking 5 dollars and usually coming up a winner, does not bother me at all. I mean they sell limeade and lemonade for 5-9 bucks for 6 gallons or 12 half-gallon cartons. It is not always in the cooler, many times just apple juice or orange juice is there, and I am only a grape juice and lime and lemon drinker. Still, I only had telling Jasper what I told him, on my mind, and I did; and things seemed to be getting better on the day until I got down the mother freaking road about 2 blocks. There would never be a real need for a dam cop or a dam law, if everyone had my conscience, and upbringing; and try as I might not to brag; I am a gentleman when I am outside my door. I don't curse or rarely, and never around women and children; and I watch my manners, and act refined. I don't put on airs or the dog, or any of that. I don't go 'dahhling', and use nine syllable words or try showing off or bragging about my Huntington family. Nobody knows me, and I try to keep it all that way, other than for screaming out online about my life and the injustices involved, and the people involved as well, that I feel totally, are causing it all, and are totally responsible for it all. I am not all that shy on my blogs, nor am I sorry. But outside my door in the real world, I behave my freaking self. I never ever look at girls, I never ever do anything wrong or illegal. Women always bothered me all my life, not the other way around. Now that I am old and ugly, most of the time, this has lessened, praise the gods!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, I got down the road a few blocks, and my conscience started bothering me real ass fucking bad, good people. I know I shouldn't have ratted the bastard out. He really hurt me, the mother fucker. Still, is that any reason or excuse for me to be no better than him, by my behavior being rotten and shitty? The answer of course is an unequivocal NO. I still feel way more terrible and guilty than I feel compensated or relieved or avenged. I was brought up by a very good mother, praise the gods, and all though I did not believe all her religious horse shit 100%, I have come to know that there is something out there beyond any and all human reasoning, as I have experienced a lifetime of shit that proves and verifies this totally, and I could witness in any and every church on this planet!!!!!!! But it gets way way way freaking better than this, so hold onto your big ugly hat, Mister McGraw, you bumpkin! Wow what an ego bruise for him, Microsoft. Let me move on now.

Feeling about three feet tall, 25 inches less than I really am, there I was in my car, now heading away from the Harvest Store, and towards the PUBLIX GROCERY STORE in town, on Route-1 or the (Federal Highway), same thing. Mikey goes to this store and this mini-mall a lot, and banks at the bank there as well; and I know all that from back when I was helping him to do his errands, after he had just left the Lawnwood Hospital here in town; and after he was recuperating from his surgical procedure, for his hernia problems. I spotted him walking towards one of the stores that was perhaps half a dozen stores to the north of the Publix, in this very large mini-mall area. He has a walk that no one else in this world has, and is very slender and I know him from the front as well as the back like I know the back of my hands. I slowly crept up on him, as you need to drive slowly in a mini-mall anyway, and I managed to get ahead of him and look both ways before making a right turn to head closer to a parking area for the Publix Customers, but I looked back with my eyes in the rear view mirror, and get ready folks, and this is gospel truth so help me, I swear this under penalty of libel, perjury, slander, and any criminal maliciousness whatsoever, as well as on the Almighty Goddess Herself, SSJKK, (Sarah-Stacey Krassle), Queen of the Astral Plane. Not only was it Mikey, but he colored his hair, and changed the style of it. It is totally yellow blond, and he has totally different eyeglasses as well. I have known this mid sixtyish man for the entire time I have lived down here in Florida, as he always was working the front desk of the HARVEST, and I went there for help when I first got into town, on advice from the landlady of the RV-PARK, the Manatee RV Park, also on Route-1, in the White City section of town, at the opposite corner from where the Harvest place is, as they are up in the north-west, and White City is down in the south-east corner of this large 7 mile square town area of nearly 50 square miles. This man would never under any ordinary circumstances, ever do anything one tenth as absurd as dying his hair bright yellow, altering his appearance entirely, and yes, even his style of dress was day and night difference, from what I knew all that time that I knew this man. Dick Wolf and Donald Trump, and all their pals could not say it better, and they did say it over and over, right there on the television broadcast, during many airings of the greatest law show ever, surpassing even the once all time great PERRY MASON, and I quote them, with their permission hopefully; “YOU JUST CAN'T MAKE THIS KIND OF STUFF UP”. Then again, you cannot make up 1969, 1974, 1980, and shall I really bother to go on, ladies and gentlemen? Anyone able to make up something even close to MORIANITY, well, I would bow down to them as I would the freaking Almighty. So boweth not down to me folks, as I am not worthy. I did not make any of this up, nor would I have one thousandth of the sufficient amount of talent to indeed do so, and when I'm accused of this; it is quite a boost to my little tiny nobody worthless ego!

Before I take us still onward, I will tell you what GAGA kitty and I discussed, two little 'Q&A' deals, that you may be interested in hearing about.

Why is this sudden super super super DEATH-SIEGE, on me, beginning on Tuesday, May the fourteenth, that has as of now, brought me 5 super botbar days out of the last seven days and bringing me now to a major monster 40% Magnetic Percentage Botbar (MPB)?

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, AND NO PIANO SONGS, PCN-981.

Why did the Almighty SSJKK show me her demise in a parallel universe, right before this middle May 2013 death period in my life, and tell me that she is not planning to leave her great city that much longer to come here?

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, AND NO PIANO SONGS, PCN-352.

I don't fucking dare list the shit, people; but you should know a lot of these match list items, and you can figure some more out on your own, and always feel free to comment and tell me some new ones. I will not act all ignorant and stupid like I did last time someone posted a video on my blog. Nobody ever tells me shit, and I do not know that peeps do this online. I am fucking old YO, and dumb as fucking ass hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HAVE PITY ON ME! God Almighty, that is more than dirt fucking bag Jane F. is ever going to, after wrecking my life 20 years ago, at the fucking Atlanta, Georgia, USA Ballpark that horrible monster ass night with that zoom in ones display, and now it is again, mother fucking page eleven of eleven, so let me try and compensate here, please. TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555, PUSS 555555555, CRIMES 555555555555555555555555, DIVIDED CRY 5555555555; IS EQUAL TO WHO FUCKING BUNT-TAPPING CARES. LET ME LOOK AT THESE NICE, NO, NOT ONES, BUT FIVES; DO YOU SEE THE POWER OF THE WOMO ENEMY, AND THEIR DIRT BAG FUCKING ETTOS YET, BELIEVERS?????????????? They made me type, 'those lovely ones' that is a MIND-HACK, and it is done with real POWER, Patty Jane Greatnecks!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So aim those magical bullets at me at your wonderful bully bar, Robert, the old Morianity-Foundation Website, displayed a total proof of your transdimensional abilities in many various ways, on that October day back in filthy OHM-6! I tried putting a comma, after the green word 'ME' and it hacked out a lot of stuff, so I hit the undo last thing key, and cannot place a comma where it needs to go. This is the power of daring to talk about crossing over the Amtrak or the Chappaquiddick Bridge, good believers.

MAGNESONIC, I NEED MAJOR HELP AND MAJOR STRIKES AGAINST MY ENEMIES, ALL ORDERS, ALL TECKS, ALL COMMANDS, DO IT, DO NOT SPARE THESE DIRT BAGS, SO EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND S——-T——-O——-P! I have decided to tell lots of other things at a later time, pillow talking daddy of Star Trek-74. E/T!

MORIANITY PART 5 CONTINUES FOLKS!!!!!!!!!

MAGNESONIC, I NEED MAJOR HELP AND MAJOR STRIKES AGAINST MY ENEMIES, ALL ORDERS, ALL TECKS, ALL COMMANDS, DO IT, DO NOT SPARE THESE DIRT BAGS, SO EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND S——-T——-O——-P! I have decided to tell lots of other things at a later time, pillow talking daddy of Star Trek-74. E/T!12:34 PM-EDST, 20 MAY, 2013

FORT PIERCE POLICE AND PUBLIC HOUSING AUTHORITY

MY DIRT BAG CRIMINAL THUG NEIGHBORS BEGAN PERSECUTING AND HARASSING ME AROUND QUARTER SHY OF NOON GIVE OR TAKE, IT IS ABOUT AN HOUR NOW OF CONTINUAL IN AND OUT BANGING OF THEIR FUCKING DOOR.

I HAVE CIVIL AND HUMAN RIGHTS, AND THIS IS A VIOLATION OF THOSE RIGHTS, WHEN I HAVE LEGITIMATELY COMPLAINED AND HAVE ONLY BEEN TOLD I CAN GET A MEDICAL NOTE AND THEY WILL LET ME MOVE, WHY SHOULD I BE THE ONE FORCED TO MOVE, FORT PIERCE POLICE, WHEN I AM NOT THE ONE DAMAGING PROPERTY, GOING IN AND OUT 24 HOURS A DAY CONTINUALLY, AN OBVIOUS DRUG RELATED ACTIVITY, WHY?

This all is a persecution that is part of something going on fucking now for cunt lapping 27 years, and has to do with causing an INTENTIONAL PARALLEL OF EVENT, between myself, and WALL STREET, as the powerful WORLD OWNERS or the (WOMO), totally know, that HURTING ME = AN ENDLESS UPSWINGING DOW JONES.

WORLD COURT AT THE HAGUE, you and all of the world authorities are pathetic and impotent. If this was not the case, you would INVESTIGATE MY HELL AND DO YOUR DAM FUCKING JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, it is quite obvious that the mother, the daughter, abnd the electron designer, are all one and the same reality, inside this huge horrendous mother fucking video-game of the LAWNMOWER MAN. I don't need to guess the name of any guests, I know them, it is LAWNMOWER MAN ONE, and LAWNMOWER MAN TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**MORIANITY PART FIVE**

THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.
CHAPTER 00089, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
SLAM-SLAM-BOOM-BANG-BONG. These jerk offs, are screaming and slamming doors tonight; what else is mother fucking new? This has not been a good day, sort of holding BOTBUR, meaning unofficial BOTBAR and unless something can perk me up before daylight starts to put Mizz Delaney into dream-land, this will close out as a 4:5 BOTBAR, with FRIDAY as the day in-between that is keeping shit from fucking being a total BOTBAR-5-STRING, YO YO YO!!!!!

If the doors keep slamming, I will just keep telling the office until they get tired of my complaints, come Monday, as she keeps insisting that between 10 and midnight, noise must slow down and stop, and this is not the case with these mother fucking thugs of washed hands, family friends, and prison inmate collect calls that somebody anticipated like space platforms and ship building and Humpback whales, long before reality caught up with itself, and thought I was going to do another tune with another verifiable introduction, or even a harmony track, after-all, how about a nice Halloween song, would this not be an appropriate thing for a dude whose copyrights have been officially registered on October 31, on three separate mother fucking years; maybe this is how the dirty underwear of marriages and sleep walk body snatchers from the past, is all about? Still, there must be a lot more to it all, as why else would I be the one so totally concentrated on, by this INCREDIBLE FUCKING STAR FAMILY??? Jesus fucking Christ Almighty, BREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Al Jolson, hold onto your dick eating hat, old buddy!
First, this day began getting bad not all that long after I was up, and I slept in late until a bit past noon. It may have been an hour and a half past, somewhere give or take; believers. In any event, extremely weird fucking outlandish shit is going on, and you are the only few in this part of the localized fifth dimension, who believe me, partially at least, as the entire rest of humanity has either betrayed me, taken some kind of collective payoff; or in some unknown other way; been ETOSS influenced and controlled, or dominated; to believe in the endless 'GWPOS' lies of 1994, giant cops and giant visiting sleep-walking non-Russell Goddesses, and other such unexplainable esoteric phenomena, all notwithstanding, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!! You need not know all of the bullshit, as it will weaken my position, empire against empire, FREE verses FEE; for those few who just may remember, huh daut? I know you do, and you do not fool me for a second, lovely BEG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOLF-WOLF, did it all not start, A—–L—–L, right after first speaking to the great CAMDEN COUNTY PROSECUTOR PEEPS, ON THE FIFTH DAY IN DECEMBER OF 1989, WHAAA? Gimme a bweak somebody, or at least you Elmer fucking cunt chewing Fwudd Waaaaaaabit. This is totally wedikolus, MACK KAITER, and cousin Newsman Lester Nonupline, WEEEEEEEEEE, BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Jesus fucking cunt lapping god almighty, for shit stinking sake, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This bites and chews worse than Mizz Delaney of May and June in 1969, retarded ice cream shops and all, huh old dude pal Brad? Yeah I'm bad, but also glad and sad, and all sorts of other fucking horse shit that does not right this minute, require all sorts of dam ass fucking explanations, Captain Suzanne Kirkwhales!!!!!!!! Moving this right along now at five past fucking midnight, things are worse for me than they have been now since back in the days when David Roth and myself, drove over to Camden City in Jersey, to see Prosecutor ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, and that piece of crap Abbey Carmichael pop-back, Mizz dick licking Donna Spinosi, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Prick Dick Wilson came along later on, after Cuzz Donnie placed a little cabbage somewhere. Everyone in Jersey is in a lot of pockets, and all of it connects into great lovely Washington-13-non-alternating-current, WHAAAAAAA; time now if you want, Mike McNulty (MMCN)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BANG, BOOM, SLAM, at 12:09 AM, PUBLIC HOUSING FUCKING CUNT AUTHORITY OF FLORIDA, AND FORT PIERCE, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho folks, let me stop stripping the gears to all October five time traveling hell, and move on from a lot more than my dream memories; but to a greater bunch of us who have all had the BITE PUT ON US, LIKE WOW, T.D. STACEY KRASSLE!!!!! My god dam fucking mom was a little nosy, as are all wives; but seeing a marriage license of your spouse, divorced or not, fall out of a gym type bag filled with dirty underwear; along with a large GUN, oh yes; and whether he had the carry-license or not, I have a powerful reason to believe I could blog for 300 years, and only tell a smattering of just why he felt the need to indeed, have this big old ugly gun in the first place, back in mother fucking January of 1974, so Shidaleedee, and sing it with me, Bread and If, WEEEEEEE!!

I know a lot about somnambulism and sleep walkers. I have two beautiful special daughters by one, and my mom was one, for the final 26 months of her pathetic fucked up life; of the PROJECT BLUEBOOKERS CLUB, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!! Give me a dam break, shall I just list off the top of my head, a few tiny things that real fucking MORIANS can dot-connect in seconds, and do BELIEVE? Tom Reale acting like WW-3 had just begun when I got off the jitney bus in Ventnor on 5 July of 1970, after returning from the Atlantic City fireworks show. Misses Marola forcing me to do that school play, a year and a month earlier, on Memorial Day; back then it always fell on 31 May, and that was in 'Friendly-Shops' not ice cream 'meanings of life tapes' in 1969; oh great wise chip swami of the cosmic ages, WEEEEEEEEEE, Chester. Yeah, we both know who you are, but do you know who TAWF is? Ask PP; he has seen enough to be a believer 99 times over, but insists on remaining a dues paying, card carrying member, of both the Missourians Club, and the GWPOS CLUB, WOW, SSJKK, I BEG THEE! Let us move this right along before lots of great gears all grind up and breakdown, and force me to wash my hands and keep a lot cleaner than the Suffolk County know-it-all, Mister Bacon; who is as I hear tell it, quite dirty again; and has his whittle mommy pwetty upset, wabbit; Whaaaaaaaa. Dope is for dopes, and texting and driving is the dumber part here, of 'dumb and dumber'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mike, it's time, YO. Folks, Linda-Lee Norman Horn and David Bacon, along with the great Darius Evans, and a lot more, are all part of the same type of Astral-Plane situation, that the human club called the Illuminati, mirror images the great and powerful non-oz condition-interaction, known as the LAMBRIGG CULT OF THE TECK BAY, IN THE PROVINCE OF OLYMPIA, ON THE ASTRAL-PLANE. Linda-Lee told me, at the great Fort Pierce Harvest, at the Happy & Healthy intersection, of Walgreen 25th and Orange, in northwest Fort Pierce, Florida; back in early twenty-eleven somewhere, to go to the 'parent-child connection meetings', held there at quitting time, as back then, this was at one in the afternoon, and I was walking out the door to go a few blocks to the north, over into the hood at Twenty-Sixth Street and Avenue E; where I shared a walled sectioned off duplex home, managed by two of the fucking cunt lapping weirdest and strangest peeps, that I ever came to know, since 1969, and my encounter under the Central Pier; that gave true meaning to the famous song “Under The Boardwalk”, and the powerful later to be known in future times, “Summer Of Love”, not the song that PP wrote, and yes, he told me to share half of the song legally, in exchange for all the money that I lost in that crumby ass fucking music venture that started out as the 1998 Songshop, and ended up shortly thereafter as the great Permission Barrier book predicted, Studio Park Records. Yes, but returning again to the mysterious Misses Linda-Lee Norman Horn, and not Lena Horn, but then Lenny Briscoe, oh Jesus; you have to see why this cannot ever work the way that you would like it to, Mizz Terry Egg Harbor, so Dawn-Marie, and Ann King; can smirk all day and night long for fucking eternity, for all I give a rats ass prick; every time we got neat the city detention center, thinking, “We know something you don't know”, and then why not drive on to the nearest sand box or maybe a big ass play pen, crissake, YO? Oh yes, Dave Bacon, she insisted I go to these meetings and tell the big secret of 'not the hammer' and she was more persistent every week that Eric was due to come in to conduct the class, until I finally went, and even told him privately, what had happened to me back in both 1969, and in 2008. Talk about demonic possession, or other old world terms and expressions. She would not quit until I did this. Then when it all went totally fucking south of all borders, I asked her why she did this and she insisted GOD told her to, and I wanted to hear a little more, and she had no more to tell; and gave me the very same long stare empty face look, that my mom would get, when she was sleep walking after that horrible attack on the day after 1997 Christmas fucking day. The same thing that was inside of David, Darius' pal back in 2011; telling me to wash my hands for no reason whatsoever, and causing me to not be able to miss hearing while we all were outside on a break, and he was talking to the lovely teen cashier, that was working there back then; and I'll quote, “I know everyone in Suffolk County”. We are talking about Long Island, New York, folks, and right there where I was forced to suffer through lots of misery, huh Aunt Ruth Huntington, and 'Uncle Nebyachts', Heinz Gottwald Hilehitler. This is just a surface scratch. Taking this and multiplying it all, about 50 fucking ass times; and the entire story comes out clear and true, Copyright Office; so be advised, please; 29 years or so ago, and yes; it is time, MMCN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't even try and tell me this entire thing for 13,000 years is all up in my head, don't EVEN FUCKING T—R—Y it folks, please, please; and fucking pretty ass PLEASE, with all the sugar and cupcakes and ice cream in the state of fucking Missouri! TANKS, & W—O—W! SHEEEEEEIT, cut me a break there for old times sake, in 1985; OK MARGIE LEO, YO????????????????????????????

My father and I both were involved with the Callio clan all right, JUST AS ALL THE FUCKING FAKE PATTY JANE PSYCHICS SAID, and if they all are fake, there is a network with many of them, that helps them share shit; and they know a ton of mother fucking secrets. There is a way I can prove that Dirtbag Trump Network, and his pals, know of this, use this; and helped to feed those same dirt bags over in England, that made the news a while back. I am just the main one on the list that was listened to, and then messed with, but in my case; they all knew better than to ever tell the story, as Goddess Almighty would tear the entire world to shreds, if this ever came out, in a way that is believable; and not on the blog of a maniac nutcase, who escaped the Dave & Darius Ripoff Sikeward of Harvested Musicians of the Washed Up Society!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where are you when I need you, Howard Solomon, and Doogie Howser????????? Then she tells me the other day, that she is going to stay a lot more in her great city. Well, you got me stuck here girl, so if you do not stay here, then you better take me with you. I think playing your games now for 13,000 years, is long enough, lovely BROWN-EYED-GIRL; with or without the bite bushes. Gee, can it all be so dam real, and totally connected up? Jeese Louise, Comcast Hangten; like freaking super ass WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes sir, when the mighty MICROSOFT world owners, updated my PC a couple days back, it totally fucked up my internet connection. It took a while to get some programs to finally let me back in. I should not have to go through this persecution, but then, what part of this 60 year current-ME nightmare, SHOULD I BE GOING THROUGH; if you wish to be technical about this mother fucking horse shit, YO?????

When the FUCKING WOMO-MILITUFORCE broke my remote control, they scored huge gains as they always do, when they FUCKING CUNT LAPPING DAMAGE MY PROPERTY!!!!!! This has not been going on since my blogs started. Blogging onto the interconnected networking computer system, is just the tail end of my MORIANITY MOTHER FUCKING TALE OF WOE AND MISERY, GOOD FOLKS. This shit all began on a precise fucking cunt eating date, and that fucking date is, no matter how cock licking tired you all must be now of seeing it in print on these blogs so often, truth is truth; and that DATE IS, 15 AUGUST, IN 1986, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The remote control replacement was eighteen mother fucking dollars, that I do not have to spare; the rotten mother fucking bastard, bottom feeding, sewer sipping, toilet seat rockers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is what will destroy me, with a mother fucking DOW JONES AT ENDLESS CONTINUAL ALL TIME RECORD HIGHS. I used to call these NIGHTMARE FUCKING ASS PERIODS, AND RIGHTFULLY SO; 'BALL CRIME DEAD CHORD CRYS'!!!!! IT FUCKING RHYMES, IT IS FUCKING TRUE, AND IT FUCKING CHEWS A TIGERS WANG, AT LIGHT VELOCITY, FUCKING ASS SQUARED!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Fuck all of this twisted ass disease. Kiss my 90% honky-ass, YO! I will dial 911 if these doors do not stop mother fucking slamming, as it is quarter past cunt sucking one in the dam morning, FORT PIERCE, POLICE. HAY, MAYBE I WILL SEND THEM AN E-MAIL ATTACHMENT OF THE BLOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My god dam dad told me shit in his sleep that blew me away in January of 1974, even though most of it went over my head and made no sense at the time, just like being down on the mother fucking Black Horse Pike with no Apocalypse or portents of biblical prophecy; at the world renown JULIA'S Psychic Readings Shop, on the bay. I now know she thinks of home a lot, and another bay, a place far away; and yet while we sleep, I guess the great SSJKK cares. After-all, she claims this, in those wonderful song lyrics, and again; this is not really my song, it is HER song in 1980; and she did sing it to me, and this was all gearing up, way back then; with or without any miscarriages, or highways that do not belong near Robin Hill Apartments; in this part of localized hyperspace. No Dorothy, I have no intention of surrendering. I will leave for fucking Mexico as soon as the summer is over, and the weather is just perfect; not wintry yet, not blistery hot; and no major storms around. FUCK-U, WFMU! I WILL DIAL 911, AND PRESS CHARGES IF THESE DOORS KEEP GOING PAST TWO. I WILL GIVE THEM EVERY CHANCE TO STOP BEING TOTAL MOTHER FUCKING JERK OFFS, BEFORE I PRESS CHARGES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

55555555555555555555555555555555555555555, for page eleven of eleven, this will compensate as well as cunt phlegm rape, time again for you, Mike McNulty, old buddy!!!

Do I believe that the great Julia White, the top Lieutenant of the Viqueen Gang, belonging to the Almighty Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, is indeed the identity of Paula King, daughter of John King and distant relative of Ann King's grandfather? No and yes. This is one of them. I believe that another one is Melanie, the one and only. This is what they or She did to your soul and your song, but that is just in the opinion of one of your old fans, Mel. I have nothing that will stand up in any court, and if I did, I would find myself blown to bits by a great warship out on the dam Indian River, along with Tim and his friend the Vice President, in some altered Ozville. I believe Monica and Melanie and Paula, are only three. There are about 50 drivers licenses in the continental United States, and 50 real lives are being lived, well; sort of lived, like off and on, whenever the systems turn on or off, or as my old pal the Congressman put it back in 1975 so perfectly, and so often; “WHATEVER”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do I believe that MDE and the endless mystery of the TRINIDAD or TRINITY depending on how far north or south you may be living; is now officially explained? Well, I want real badly to say my favorite spiel right about now, and go, “You bet your cute cornfield ass, lovely Annie Costner”, only in good conscience; we will keep the Trinity a real mystery, even FROM MORIANITY, until and unless; this mere mortal eventually has sufficient evidence to prove mom and kid are Kent and soup. Oh well, I have more than said enough to get the dirty underwear tempers flaring and raging. If I know my wonderful SSJKK, I will get the fucking shit kicked out of me soon when I drop out of this reality for a while, so wish me lots of lick, believers. I do not ever wish to anger Jehovah. I love her more than life, and a trillion anythings all combined together; but the gods help me, as I am totally curious and there is no turning back. Not after these fucking 60 years of this wild guessing names, and guesting games, WEEEEEEEEEE, BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Make that WOW!

I have really kicked fucking ass during these 5 days of hell now peeps and believers, YO, in my SYSTEMS-ROULETTE. I made 13 units today, and this was a bad day, three games, all winning games. Yesterday I made one and a half units, and the four days prior to that, I eeked out an average of one unit each day, a nice average 6-day unit profit of at least +3 units per day in the past 6 days of mostly major nasty ass HELL, nearly two grand on the black gaming 100 dollar playing level, YO, AHA-AHA-AHA, Mister McNulty!!!!! Also, I spoke with my cat, GAGA, or Gawky Gaukauk, I have shortened it after all this time, and first remembered him in 1980 until later, as in the STAR TREK movie called GENERATIONS, came to stop seeing things in 3-D, a very limited way to live human life, but I'll admit, simpler. It seems he and I went back to '77 when he cut me into little tiny pieces at his Teck Bay Mystery School, and then there was another time 5 years before that, when I followed my own daughter into her home and witnessed the unbloggable. Well, let us get into a little GAGA-Q&A, whatcha say folks?

WHY IS MY 'YBCO' SONG SUCH A MONUMENTAL PROBLEM, NOT BEING ABLE TO MAKE THE VIDEO, OR POST IT, AND ALL OF THE TROUBLE IT HAS CAUSED, IN MY FUCKING LIFE FOR 14 MONTHS OR SO NOW, YYYYYYYYY, JIMMY YYYYY, OH I MEAN KITTY, THIS IS 30 YEARS UP IN THE FUTURE, GAGA??????????????????????
MEOW-MEOW, WHAAAAAA, PCN-927. NEED I REALLY GIVE SOME OF THE POWERFUL FUCKING MATCH LIST ITEMS?
WHY DID I GET THAT HORRENDOUS FUCKING DEATH SIEGE JUST SHY OF 8 AT NIGHT ON THE 16TH, ON MY THIRD FUCKING ASS BOTBAR HELL DAY, GAGA???
MEOW-MEOW, WHAAAAAA, PCN-770. AGAIN, DO I REALLY NEED TO GIVE YOU THE FUCKING LIST, GREAT PAULAGA??
DO WE FUCKING NEED A 'W—O—W'?

AND YES PEOPLE, 990 WAS THE PCN GIVEN WHEN I ASKED WHY THE SECOND BOTBAR STRUCK ME SO HARD ON THE FIFTEENTH FUCKING DAY OF MAY. I HAVE TO SHUT UP OR MY KID WILL HAVE MY HEAD ON TWO PIKES, THE WHITE HORSE AND THE BLACK HORSE WILL RIDE, DEMI MOORE AND FATHER MARREL. HOLLYWOOD (THE EW) KNOWS IT ALL, WHO IS KIDDING WHO? MADE IN HEAVEN VANISHES, INTO THE TURNERSVILLE PATHMARKS, OF AUGUST 2, IN 1996? IT IS TIME FOR YOU AGAIN, MMCN!!!!! But this is not the biggie, sir Ziggy; not by a mother fucking super ass long-shot, Mister Perry Louigee WHITE. I asked my GAGA kitty out of the 81 PCN'S, which one best describes the connection to my oldest daughter and me, and I swear to the gods of the Astral-Plane, I received the number of PCN-954, and I only have five match-list-items for that number, and I WILL PRINT THEM, THE GODS HELP ME IN MY SLEEP SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY ARE AS FOLLOWS:
(HALLOWEEN) (OCTOBER FIVE TWO THOUSAND EIGHT) (WAYNE MOHR) (DIANE ROSS) (GUATEMALA) I have said way more than enough, I talk too dam ass much, good people, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now, there are recent things told on blogs, that I want front and center. No need to have to click all around, so read on. If you click the past few blogs, other stuff will be there, but this is more necessary, for right now, YO. Have a nice day, while I fucking roast in a German Kessle pot of boiling broiling HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HUGE ENDLESS STOCK MARKET RALLY CONTINUES,
JUST EXACTLY AS I SAID THAT IT WOULD, DAY AFTER DAY, WEEK AFTER WEEK; AS 'THEY' PUT ME THROUGH TOTAL MOTHER FUCKING HELL LAST WEEK, AND GAINED ANOTHER 3 HUNDRED POINTS AS A RESULT!!

MORIANITY PART FIVE:

HERE IS MY PROOF TO JUST A FEW TINY MOTHER FUCKING THINGS, AND I HAVE NOT EVEN STARTED TO PASTE IN MY LIFE. IT WOULD TAKE A MUCH GREATER COMPUTER, WITH PETA BYTES OF MEMORY AND PROCESSING SPEED ON PAR WITH THAT OF THOSE IN FORT MEADE, MARYLAND AT THE NATIONAL SECURITY OR 'NO SUCH' (AGENCY)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RED ALERT—-RED ALERT—- !!!
RED ALERT—-RED ALERT—- !!!

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I TOOK ANOTHER HUGE FUCKING ATTACK AND ASSAULT, FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, MIAMI AND JACKSONVILLE FIELD FUCKING OFFICE, AND FLORIDA STATE POLICE, AND LOCAL PEEDEE. IT ALL STARTED AT SHY OF EIGHT THIS MOTHER FUCKING EVENING. HUGE HORRIBLE ILLEGAL MOTHER FUCKING JET CHEMTRAILS ALL OVER THIS AREA POPPED UP OUT OF NOWHERE, THEN A HUGE COMPUTER ATTACK LATTISAW JACK HACK, ALSO STRUCK, WHILE TRYING TO WORK THE MACHINE. MICROSUCKS IN LEAGUE WITH WOMO, MADE THE SYSTEM TURN ON, AT 8 ON THE NOSE, WITH THEIR UPDATES CRAP. THEN I LOOKED OUT OF MY WINDOW, WHILE GETTING UP AND COMING OVER HERE TO THE COMPUTER; AND EVEN THOUGH THE SUN HAD SET, BRIGHT HUGE LIT UP DAYTIME AREAS WERE ALL OVER THE BUILDING ABOVE ME, AS UP THERE, IT IS NOT SUNSET TIME YET. IF I HAD A VIDEO FUCKING SYSTEM AND KNEW HOW TO MOTHER FUCKING OPERATE IT LIKE OTHER FOLKS DO, I WOULD HAVE HAD A VIRAL MOTHER FUCKING VIDEO, OR REALLY, NO I WOULD NOT, AS YOUTUBE, IN LEAGUE WITH GOOGLE-MICROSUCKS, HAS A BLOCKADE ON MY STUFF. ANYONE CAN SEE IT. THERE IS A HUGE QUESTION MARK AFTER THE VIEW COUNT ON MY NIGHTMARE FUCKING SONG? THE ACTUAL COUNT SHOULD READ SEVENTEEN (17) VIEWS, WITH NO QUESTION MARK. ALL OTHER VIEWS ARE ME WATCHING MY OWN STUFF, AND MY TRYING TO LINK UP OR SHARE THE VIDEO WITH BLOG SITES, & THEY SHOULD HAVE A WAY TO FILTER THE MOTHER FUCKING COUNTER WHEN IT IS THE COMPUTER THAT UPLOADED THE VIDEO, THAT HAS CLICKED TO VIEW IT, NOT COUNTING IT. THEN THEY ADD A LOT OF SYMBOLS LIKE PLUSSES AND QUESTION MARKS, & THIS ENTIRE THING IS A VIOLATION OF MY MOTHER FUCKING CUNT EATING CIVIL RIGHTS, AND IS JUST FOR THE RICH PEOPLE, AS ARE ALL THINGS, FROM FUCKING CHEATED ASS WALL STREET, ALL THE WAY DOWN TO MAIN STREET! I AM SO DISAPPOINTED BY MY PRESDIDENT, FORGETTING WHERE HE STARTED, AND THE EXPERIMENTS, AND THINGS IF I GO ON ABOUT, I WOULD HAVE THE FUCKING SECRET ASS SERVICE AT THE DOOR IN AN HOUR. I AM SO SO HURT, SIR. I EXPECT THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOR FROM MY ROTTEN DAUGHTER, BUT DID NOT FROM YOU, KIND SIR. BLESS YOU ANYWAY, SIR! BRUCE PENNOCK SAID IT ALL, BACK EARLY IN THE SEVENTIES. NONE OF US ARE PERFECT, MERE MORTALS AND HUMANS.

Then comes the big problem. When I crashed last fucking night, I was with the Almighty in many forms, and at the end, after lots of enjoyable pleasurable interactions, she tells me she is not going to keep leaving her great city, and that she is going to stay there a lot more. Whatever the shit that is supposed to mean, right my believers-Morians. Oh well, 'ours is not to reason why, Sir Aristede Shadows of 1897, but to do and die', right, co fellow musician/writer of tunes, and Ode to the lovely Laura Parker, of the non studio Parkers of Pedersenville. You can shove those big stupid ass hats, PP, WHERE THE DAM ASS SUN DON'T SHINE, YO!!

MORIANITY PART FIVE
CONTINUES RIGHT ALONG, KIND LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.

Posting, or trying to, at 9:11 PM, on this night of SUPER MOTHER FUCKING BOTBAR TIMES THREE, AND SUPER HIGH CALLIOTAMMIC ASSAULT SIEGE; and lots of pussy fucking action, will be coming my way, when I am out on some local cunt chewing errands, the next couple of days, and if I am messed with; I am holding the AG, and the Florida State Police, and CJS responsible; for disbelieving me, and not caring enough to help look after a person, being cock sucking viciously fucking ass persecuted, for 3 solid cunt eating asshole decades now, or more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MY ''MPB'' IS NOT ACCEPTABLE, AND ALL OF THOSE RESPONSIBLE, WILL PAY IN THEIR FUCKING BLOOD, I PROMISE YOU TAHREN GANDI, AND OTHER BOXERS, AND REALTORS, AND WELL; WHATEVER, 'OLD SHIPYARD PAL' OF FUCKING CUNT EATING 1975, WITH ALL THE DAM ASS RED MOTHER FUCKING LEAVES ON THE FUCKING GROUND.

OK believers, 1,2,3, possibly 4 of you, here is what is going on, and you will definitely get a mind blow after you hear what I now tell you. I swear it is the truth, and I also swear that it is over simplified by a factor of about nine billion or so, otherwise, I would be posting this up around the year of 2177 or so, and would defeat the purpose, as lovely 'niece' DMK would say to me constantly, back in 2008 and 2009. By the way, I never started that crap with her, not about the school in Egg Harbor City, or me being her dam uncle. They all knew about me, and all of this. I was the one who knew jack about it all, back when I started to blog in 2006, and 2007. If anyone needs proof; you have a lot of reading material to emmereffing cover.

First off on this day's blog, for the past month now since the middle of April, my Channel 12 TV News APP is hacked up, and this is where you see the photos on my blogs at the Jupiter Inlet, some miles to my south, unless I pretend it is 1975 again and nobody had a million bugs all over the place. Then I could get there in a few minutes, and not be discovered moving any diner rotisseries or other such things as speaking to birds and animals, and being in a wild eternal relationship with lovely ISIS, and a hell of a lot more.

They totally have hacked into my system, as they all know what computers we use. There is no way I can track the movement of the third part of MIDISISCYLLA. It is all frozen and hacked, and shows lightning positions that are no where even close to where she is in reality and real time. Most of it shows the same old frozen spots. This is a violation of course of my civil rights, but who can stop it, I am being given the privilege of using these APP programs, and if I don't like it, what am I going to do about it? Also, you want to know why the DOW will be going up one to two hundred points every single week this year, and endlessly from now on, as it really is not complex at all? It is because unlike in times past, every possible person in authority that could potentially help me, is all in the pockets totally and 100% completely, of the powerful city of Washington, DOC-13. Now why did New York City, and Washington, become the two targets of 911? You may think this is so easy, without knowing a tenth of the basic truth behind what all of this terrorism is really all about, and how it all connects two times, once in 1967 AD, and the other time around 3000 years before that one. Don't expect me to start even going here on this blog, as I am not in any mother trucking, hunt trapping, bunt tapping, rock chucking mood; folks, sorry! Every single person on this planet is being stopped from helping me in my fight against Apollo-Lucifer, even the church themselves. The reasons cannot be explained. They go beyond 1000 times wilder than all the stuff you ever saw on any of the most far out television shows and movies and documentaries, any and all of it; and that's a dam promise, believers. Dan Brown knew a little bit about this, and was able to tell a little as well, but if he had ever tried to tell the real stuff, people would be saying to me after I mention his name, Dan Who? None of you have the smallest dam clue about anything, and it makes me want to cry like a dam ass baby for hours. I told you my rotten kid would beat me up when I fell asleep, and she outdid my wildest worries and nightmare fantasies, folks. She along with close cuzz Leticia T. and distant cuzz Dawn-Marie K. all three let me have the most brutal attack I ever experienced, right near the Walter Bar across from the Bellevue Avenue Hammonton, New Jersey WAWA Convenience Store. I found myself asleep and instantly awake in bright daylight, on the street right near the bar there. I began to walk towards where they used to have me kidnapped at Caruso's home at 831 13th Street, and before I got thirty yards, Dawn grabbed my left shoulder very hard, swung me around, and kicked me in the stomach so hard the wind went out of me and I dropped to my knees. Instantly, Leticia clocked me with one of her locally famous left hooks, in that part of Jersey; she is as strong as my kid, and all of my front teeth were gone, boom, over. Blood was pouring out of my mouth and I still was not able to breathe. Then while this was fresh and up to the minute, my wonderful Doogie Howser Lab-Technician daughter of 1984, grabbed me, picked me up, and threw me over her head and out into the street and right in front of a fairly fast moving sports car that was not yet slowing down for the Route 54 stop sign ahead, and I plowed right inside through this driver's windshield. He then stopped and took me and threw me back onto the street and started kicking my ribs apart as I dropped down, and cursed at me with language way beyond what I ever heard in my entire life. Then my daughter threw a bucket of liquid light all over me, and it blinded me, and began swirling into hundreds of different shades of brilliant colors, and suddenly; I was wet and then totally dry, and totally healed up. I jumped up and thanked her, and she said to me, “The fun is only starting, real bad boy”, and then she pushed me so hard I fell down backwards and again, the three of them began pounding and pounding me. This went on for what seemed like an hour, getting totally destroyed and then rejuvenated with this magic light-liquid stuff, and then beat up to hell all over again. Finally, they all laughed and walked away from me as if nothing had happened. All three of them were wearing wild logos on their dresses as well, you could not miss them, and in this wild interaction, I could see real great without the aid or need of any eyeglasses. The color was bright orange, and dead center in the middle was an oval shape in jet black about an inch thick around, with a diameter in the oval large part being about eight to ten inches, stretching across and not going head to toe. Inside this oval, in bright green bold lettering, it said, YBCO SONG 301+. I have no idea what this is all about, and have been scared to make a move all day until recently when I decided to tell this on this blog. I woke up from this incredible experience around half past eleven, in fact on the nose I believe. The really strange part was that when I awoke, my vision was perfect for about one or two minutes, and then it suddenly was back to the normal piss poor vision that I actually have, but the clock to my right when I awoke, was bright and clear; an analogue face displaying the large hand at the 6, and the small hour hand dead in-between the eleven and the twelve. It was 11:30 AM. Some force, on top of this, will not allow me to monitor weather or other activities around the world with the normal computer tools that I should have available with this machine. Some powerful world owner and power, will not allow me to try and end this world, the way I need to, to stop this eternal hell for me in the only way I know how to. So Ron Wirtz Senior, if you're still alive, Camden County New Jersey EX Prosecutor, kind-sir, I will be taking my “AEB” very soon, to a deserted area spot placing it on a rock surface, and slamming it as hard as I can with a Walmart hammer. If I am lucky, this will all be over for ever and ever, as it should have been that day at the Eden fence, when I interfered, and begged ISIS not to end everything right then and there; and she told me, and I quote, “Because you loved Diana, I will spare the world for a while”. Well, you are Diana, and there is no such thing as time or tents, so my error caused all this, and I will fix it in the only way that I know how. None of you will even feel a thing once this is done, boom, over forever, and done! I HAVE HAD ALL I CAN STAND, POPE-YES, ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh, and Keisha Crunch-99! This is where it is going to stop, my BROTHER!

I may not be the swiftest greatest sock in the drawer, Lenny Briscoe sir, colored mine, impressed, or whatever Robert Andrews Sir and old 1975 pal; but I will say this dam much, believers. I should have known not to make that ten grand bet about my 1986 song, back in twenty-ten. I feel this is the last straw that brought TAWF to the point of killing me at all costs, so I will beat them and everyone else to the great and mighty punch, oh lovely Keisha Disney Loca! WOW, I still have a huge place where you can see where this young teen girl totally broke and destroyed my right arm in the days of my great pal, PRINCE KEM. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

I NEED YOUR HELP, MIZZ A.G., BIG TIME!!!

Florida Attorney General Pam Bondi

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I know you are doing your best to watch over me, AG Mizz Bondi, thank you. Feel free to contact the Wirtz detectives in Camden County in New Jersey, Ron Senior knows my problem is all real, but his hands are tied, I am quite sure that you know what I mean.

That was what it was before the WORST MOTHER FUCKING DAY OF 2013 CAME IN, FRIDAY, it is now Saturday Morning at 25 minutes past mother fucking midnight, electrical number three cubed, (27) April, 2013. Yesterday was a major super fucking BOTBAR DAY. Folks, I have a hell of a monster fucking story to impart to you all today, and if you're not in the mood for a really major talk with the Mountainpen here, move it over to the ''NEXT-BLOG'', I strongly urge you, but staying here will result in some pillow talking from DAD, and many other things. They were warned, and they did not care or they called my fucking bluff, or 'whatever', Congressman, but that old saying of Dawn-Marie King is quite fitting here good peeps, “It is what it is”, and again, it appears to be quite magically buried or cosmically perhaps, as this contains the built in Goddess of Babylon, both and either one of them, now or back then; my lovely wonderful and beautiful, who else; ISIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***MORIANITY PART FIVE***

A child knows that a lot of stuff can be learned by visiting my Youtube site, that will NOT be gone forever very shortly. Not after that threat I took over at the FORT PIERCE WEST LIBRARY, SOME DAYS AGO, BRO, YO!

http://www.youtube.com/paulaking2011/

THE MASTER SHEET FOR MORIANITY PART FIVE:

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My blogs
Morianity Bible For Millenium Three:
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About me
Gender
Male
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Non-Profit
Occupation
paranormal researcher
Location
Hammonton, New Jersey, United States
Introduction
Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.
Interests
I close my mind to nothing
Favorite Movies
all old movies
Favorite Music
most old music
Favorite Books
The Winds Of War, Gone With The Wind, Time Travelers From Our Future
You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?
An angry mother. Also, a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.

I DEMAND MY FUCKING PROPS.

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HELP ME PEE. YOU ARE OUT OF HERE NOW. HAPPY 16TH BIRTHDAY, and now it is 28 MAY.

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If anyone can find me PEE, it is e-bay genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!

Please remember your 74-World-Penetrater machine, my wonderful lovely PEE. Try 2 find me!

Jupiter, Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOU NOW ARE READING MORIANITY PART 5,
AND I DOUBT YOU ARE ENJOYING THIS CHAPTER NUMBER 00089. WEEEE!

YOU ARE READING MORIANITY, PART 5, GOOD FOLKS, CHAPTER NUMBER ————————————————– 00089. I do not think this blog will be enjoyed, but I needed to get shit off my chest, and it beats throwing a hand grenade. I vent by blogging, so thank you Chris Bennett, YO! WAYWINY, lovely Diana, my baby-blond Lightning Goddess???????????

BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING (GODDESS DIANA), SUBMITTED BY A CHANNEL 12 VIEWER, NOW PASTED FROM THEIR TV-APP.

MY LOVE FOR YOU IS ENDLESS, LOVELY BABY-BLOND. NOW WE ALL CAN SEE YOU, ON ONE NIGHT IN ARIZONA, THANX.

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I TOLD YOU ALL THAT THE STOCK MARKET WOULD REACH ALL TIME RECORD FUCKING HIGHS, AND IT ALREADY IS ON THE WAY TOWARDS THE 15,000 LEVEL AS I SAID IT WOULD BE. I ALSO HAVE ONE MORE THING TO SAY: THE ATTORNEY GENERAL WILL NOT ALLOW YOU BASTARDS TO MOTHER FUCKING MURDER ME, AND ALSO, READ THIS, YO:
OK people, here is what happened, and no one will believe it, and I am typing it for my own record, not so that anyone anywhere will see it and believe it. Shit all fucking mighty, if I were you and you were me; I know I wouldn't believe it, so maybe that tells you to hit that NB button now. This will get deeper than your wildest fucking fantasies, sweet adorable Alice Vera Mel, not greedy Fisher MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is nine minutes shy of one, and I will be calling 911 if this all day long party, across the hall, does not stop. IT HAS BEEN DOORS, DOORS, DOORS, SLAMMING ALL MOTHER FUCKING DAY LONG. I do not have to take this after one in the mother fucking cunt lapping dick chewing MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!! Actually, it was pretty quiet until 3 in the afternoon, then one by one, these evil vile uncouth monster slobs, begin filing in; and by quarter past four late yesterday afternoon, it was slam slam bang, and still is, at one in the cunt eating morning. I have a powerful feeling, the FUCKING CUNT POLICE WILL BE HERE, BEFORE THE SUN RISES. I WILL NOT BE ABUSED THIS WAY, AND JUST SIT FUCKING HERE AND EAT THIS FUCKING SHIT, FROM THESE FUCKING TWISTED DISEASED MONSTERS, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They know the other neighbor is away, my pal Stanley, or they would not make this much cock licking fucking noise all day and night; but if only I AM HERE, 1988 or no fucking 1988; PROPHET OF FUCKING CUNT MCDONALD'S NOTHING; THEN I'LL GET ROYALLY AND TOTALLY FUCKING ASS SCREWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But if this day was just THIS HORRIBLE MONSTER OVER ACROSS THE FUCKING HELL-HALL, WITH HIS DIRT BAG EVIL SCUM BAG PEEPS; I could take it, but unfuckingfortunately for me; this is only a part of my fucking hell on this beyond MONSTER ASS FUCKING DAY FROM HELL CUBED CUBED CUBED AND CUBED, AND BEYOND ANY NORMAL ASS FUCKING CUNT LAPPING B—O—T—B—A—R!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Far beyond seeing constant fucking CLOCK-ONES, and other constant ONES-ATTACKS from Miss Dirtbag Jane Sleazeweedsdisease BITCH, from 20 years ago, in fucking cunt eating '93; I have dropped shit, injured myself, been attacked in all possible ways including one of the worst health death ray beam assaults ever, where I was on the toilet for hours; and I was one fucked up shit head duck. I will tell you all something right now before even getting really into the heart and the meat of yesterday's beyond SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY: That fucking rotten 1983 song has caused me a mountain top and an ocean basin of trouble, that none of you out here have a clue about; as I know since no one wants to go and listen to it, and I know because the count never changes on my YT account, when I deduct my views and my link up posts. Well, I will not say none, but maybe, and I mean MAYBE, it has been hit 6-10 times, and I said and will reiterate again, MAYBE!!!!!!!!!!!! As I speak, my twelfth fucking MORTY MORTINO DEATH ANDROID attack is striking me on my mother fucking cunt eating right side, the eleventh one was when I was shortly into starting this blog, and I have no time to waste on that dirt bag prick, reporting every visitation from this shit ass buttwipe clown, YO YO YO YO!!! Here is the real fucking shit, and it happened when I crashed out for the night around just past 2 AM on Friday fucking ass morning, BRAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WAS TAKEN BACK TO PROVINCE ''WEIRD''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was done totally against my will, as it was in late June of fucking pussy huffing two thousand and dick eating eight. For those that may not have a clue, this is a condition-interaction of the Astral-Plane, so far away from the normal interactions of Province-Olympia, that no words would be usable here, it would be the distance of about a quintillion orbits around the hypersphere universe of ours while we're awake on this so-called, “Physical-Plane”. Diana was with me, and the LAMBRIGG CULT forced an unconditional surrender of myself and my air-ship, the Ricktown-1, and we went through a gigantic pipe like one of those municipal water pipes, only about 50 miles in diameter, otherwise, appearing just like one of them here in the fucking ass waking world, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Diana was allowed to remain with me for a while, then she was mysteriously made to vanish away, and they tortured me beyond anything imaginable. The agony was like 1000 years of someone stabbing your body all over, and you cannot bleed out and die, or you do, and then you just instantly experience some bizarre tissue and blood regeneration. This then happens over and over, and the agony gets worse as the interaction of seeming-time passes in the ongoing torment and torture. Now I know that this is real, what I am now going to tell you, and nothing similar to this has happened to fucking cunt me, since Christmas time, in the fucking year of 2007, at my place of employment, the Cifaloglio Garage, near Folsom, New Jersey, USAESMWG!!!

I died of a fucking stroke in 'my sleep' last night, it happened, and I totally fucking know that this happened. The agony on the Astral-Plane was somehow able to connect into my body here in waking ordinary consciousness, to a sufficient level, so as to fucking kill me, and it was a stroke, and it was fucking horrible. Now comes the wilder part, my good folks. I woke up and somehow crawled to the hallway, and yelled for help, and was taken to the hospital; where I was pronounced fucking DEAD there. Then I was asleep again; and this cycle went on and on for what seemed as long as the fucking torture that caused it to happen in the first fucking place. When I finally came out of this experience, I jumped out of bed, tripped and fell, yelled, and ran for a light, any fucking light, and I will not be able to sleep without a bright light on for a very fucking cunt lapping long while, just like after my fatal heart attack and other horrible shit from my early blogging days of super SIEGE AND PUMMELING ATTACK FROM THIS LAMBRIGGER CULT OF HELL ITSELF, NOTICE PLEASE, THAT I DID NOT SAY FROM HELL. I said OF HELL, and fuck you MICROSOFT, NOT ODF, screw your dam hack, I am not in the mother fucking ass mood for that shit right about now, YO!

You do not need to know everything, but I will tell you all one thing, DOROTHY GLINDASISTERTRAIL: NO I DO NOT SURRENDER; NOT AFTER THIS SIEGE AND DEATH-HELL ASSAULT, YOU MOTHER FUCKING PIECES OF DIRTY ASS ROTTEN FUCKING MONKEY CRAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Folks, the real joke is that you don't, and cannot ever, know half of what is going on, and if I told, even though I am a certified fucking fruitcake; it would be Chappaquiddick Bridge for me, and then McGuire would light up my remains and I'd fucking glow for a day and a fucking ass half, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One thing this OZ-man can tell you, is that Bluebook Warren and the rest of the WASH-DOCK gang from 13-600-ville, are all clueless to a lot of shit that is right under their nose. They all think they're all that up there in the capitol, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT, Dawn and DAD willya gimme a fucking bweak there Mister cunt eating Elmer Fwudddddd?????????????? TANKS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We are NOT playing with TIME TRAVELERS, just travelers, and folks, you are saying to yourself right about now, no doubt, what the fuck do you mean, and my response is that if you need to say that after all this fucking ass Morianity; I cannot aid you in just more mere fucking lingo made up of mere combinations of alphabet letters. It won't work. This is what the gods know about that tongue shit, they're not fucking talking about some real cool make out sessions, YO!!!!!!!!!!! I have been fatally car crashed, struck dead by Diana, poisoned with non-Mace-cans, shot, stabbed, crushed by a freight train, chocked and strangled, and not crashed in a car to my death once, but on several occasions; and something WON'T FUCKING LET ME DIE, yet if you came over and shot me; to your frame of reference, I would be dead and forever gone, and so 'THAT', is the real fucking PROVINCE WEIRD ROCKDROID EQUATION, sir Rotten Berry, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No aha-aha-aha tonight, Mike fucking cunt McNulty, old 1971 pal; just not in the fucking ass mood. So sorry Mister 1941 Ambassador of fucking cunt lapping JAPAN, huh lovely daughter PEE K——-omicassi????????????????? My life dwarfs the fucking SECOND WORLD WAR, 10 million times; or should I just keep my cuzz happy and say five meeeyun? Cut me 1, Marge Leo!

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For more, just scroll, no need to fucking click on the margin, good people, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

10:47 PM-EDST, 25 APRIL, 2013, THURSDAY NIGHT:

I TOLD YOU GINA, THEY PICK THE FUCK ON ME, OVER AND OVER, AND EVEN THOUGH THE DOW BEGAN TO GO DOWN FOR A WHILE, THIS RECENT 10-15 DAYS OF SHIT ON ME, EVERY DAY, WITH POUNDING, AND PUMMELING, AND PERSECUTION BY FILTHY FUCKING EVIL NEIGHBORS; AND LOTS OF OTHER FUCKING SHIT; AND THE DOW JONES GOES UP AND UP AND UP AND UP AND UP, DAY AFTER DAY, AFTER DAY, AFTER DAY. A FUCKING TWISTED MORON LITTLE SNOTTY CHILD, CAN SEE MY WORDS ARE ALL FUCKING TRUE. WHERE IS THE WONDERFUL ATTORNEY GENERAL WHEN I NEED HER, OH GREAT PRESIDENT-O???????????? THIS IS WHY PEEPS REACH THAT MAGIC BOILING POINT, I NEVER WILL, BUT THIS IS WHY THESE INCIDENTS WILL NOT STOP HAPPENING, AS IT JUST GETS ENDLESSLY MOTHER FUCKING WHITE WASHED, AND COVERED UP, BY POWERFUL 'PENTAGON FUCKING ALIENS', OR 'WHATEVER' BODY SNATCHING EXPLORATRONIC SHIT IS REALLY GOING FUCKING ON, AND DON'T LET THE CLARINET PLAYER, BILL; BULLSHIT US. HE KNOWS THE ENTIRE FUCKING MESS, AND HAS TO SHUT UP ON PAIN OF DEATH; HIS AND THE ENTIRE FAM. FOLKS, QUIT BEING SO FUCKING naïve AND STUPID, AND 'MICROSOFT I-N-SIS-TS ON SPELLING' naïve IN SMALLS, I AM NOT DOING THIS, YO!!!!!!!!!!! NOW YES, I DID THE OTHER CUTE ASS LITTLE THING AFTERWARD, WHAAAAAA, MMCN!

I am one angry mother fucker about a lifetime of mother fucking endless cock sucking MAJOR PERSECUTION, good freaking folks out here, and all my loyal MORIANS, YO YO!! So quit bouncing me around Mister McDonald and Mister Vandegrift, kind sirs, and stop with the super echo already on the fucking car ads. You're not a Donna Summer 1979 fucking disco, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Jeese fucking cunt Louise, and W—O—W!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAA!

EVERY MOTHER FUCKING COCK EATING DAY, these noisy dirt bag neighbors ARE DRIVING ME NUTS AT THE FUCKING SPEED OF LIGHT CUBED, PUBLIC HOUSING ASS AUTHORITY, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ALL MIGHTY!!!!!!!!!!
This is totally REDICULOUS, MACK KAITER of Northeast freaking ass Maryland of 1967. Cut me a break, Margie Leo!

the continuation of “The Epitome of Harrassament” (I edited out the hack date).
first day of 2008 summer, like wow, yo
The Epitome of Harassment – Internet Version
Saturday, June 21, 2008—-THIS IS A TOTAL MUST READ!!!
MAJOR COMPUTER HACKING FROM MY QUEEN
HUGE COMPUTER HACK 8 at night, first day of SCUMMER 21 June, oh-8, Saturday Elton John night But not Donna devil all right. THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION, AND THE MILLIONTH COUNCIL AND ME———BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
I NEVER WENT 2 BED TODAY AFTER COMING BACK FROM WORK, NEVER. I am shouting out to the FBI and the NJ STATE POLICE 4 HELP!!!!!!!!! I have no memory of shutting down the TV set or removing eyeglasses or falling into my bed, only that suddenly the TV was off, my glasses were on my face, I was or had been dead asleep, and all devices were indeed turned off. I bolted upright and saw that my fan had gotten knocked over along with a karaoke machine and they both were laying flat on the floor next 2 where I had fallen also without memory of ever getting 2 sleep. First, work was OK, but no panacea. I had a small bowel attack, lots of jerk offs everywhere; but out of nowhere at just past 3 in the morning, a noisy loud alarm went off. No matter how hard I tried 2 find the source, I could not. Shades of my Echelon-Towers Building, that I guarded back in my middle thirties for the famous Wells Fargo Company, the original American Security outfit 4 all those Western-shows watchers. Just 2 and a half hours after the crazy MC-ALARM attack, a crash level plane flew over my vehicle in total violation of my CIVIL AND CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS, WORLD TRIBUNAL COURTS AT THE HAGUE. I come home and eat a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice and turn on the TV. The next thing I know it is hours later, I am laying stretched out, eyeglasses on my face still, and stuff knocked over on the floor. When I got up to piss and straighten up the place, so that the fan is blowing air onto me again, and I can resume sleeping a while longer; I instantly knew that I was right back in this building, a medical place with 6-9 rooms that went more into each other and did not contain a lot of hallways. Mariah Carey was there, and her driver, a man about medium build and bright glaring type of eyes, just over perhaps the six foot mark in stature, dressed nicely but not overkill, and the same with Mariah. A lady who is heavy set, is sort of in charge at this place, neck line hair length, strawberry type of color, and she kept telling me 2 stop closing doors, and I kept telling her I am not closing them, the wind was blowing quite strong outside and was blowing right through all of the open windows in these rooms, and forcing doors to swing shut, but she continued 2 insist that I was doing it. Mariah started talking 2 me about how much she enjoyed being a super star and yet there were problems that she said she wanted 2 tell me about, but could not at the moment; as 'he' would hear, and I kept asking who ‘he’ was. She half smiled and pointed at a young male about 22 give or take, about five feet five in stature, brown short hair, not totally short like a crew cut, dressed in an old pair of pants with oil stains on them, and a green jersey with strange looking logos on it everywhere, many bright white circles with black lines running through them, 3 of them, like a triple X. She told me that she is here on this same day each week for some medical reason, and I think she told me but I cannot pull that part of the interaction up now, back in waking life. The buildings of the city were visible from windows, yet the area was in a country setting, whether it was part of the 5 boroughs of New York City or not, also I am not privy to this. She said that she wanted me 2 know she is mad that I do not fully trust her and her plans, and I kept insisting that I trust her implicitly but know quite well, that what she thinks of as PLANS, IC as GAMES, and reminded her of the 65-70 years when she was here B4 playing her games with me from a city just 100 or so miles away down the coast. She smiled at me and said, “U mean the chain I removed from your Oaklyn, New Jersey Apartment?” I said, “4 starters, yes”. She went on to tell me that until the shellfish as she called him while looking his way, is out of my way, I can tell U no more about it. She said that he was a lifelong resident of Atco, New Jersey, and knew both U and your neighbors, the Durham’s, when U lived there back in ‘83. He is not who he appears, and all her peeps and bodyguards have tried to beat him up, and keep him away; but he just seems impervious, and will not stop creeping around. He is Y the Feds started messing with me, she went onto say, and they R not on my side, they must do what they R told by higher councilmen, and she was talking Millionth. I reminded her that she is all mighty and can do anything, Y not just zap him into oblivion? She smiled again and said that there is still so much yet 4 her 2 teach me about all of this and all the Earthly people making my life so horrible every minute of every day and night. She said that when I disobeyed and told her she could kill me, the other day on my blog, for the entire world 2 publicly C and share, she was extremely angry. I must remember that she is the great queen, and maybe in the world of Pedigree Dog-food, us DOGS RULE, but, and she called me Yancy, and said and I quote, “Yancy, remember that I am the great Sarah-Stacey here in this form now, and I RULE, U GOT THAT”? I solemnly just looked down and submissively said, “I know U do my great all powerful lovely mighty queen”. She took my hand and told me that she did not have to tell me about the 2 letters back 9 years ago, and help me construct my idea foundations that R literally responsible 4 where I am today in figuring out so much incredible stuff. I asked her Y she used the sending of 2 blank letters rather than just come 2 me as she is doing right now and talk to me straight up? She laughed softly and squeezed my hand a little, watching me wince from the sudden small bit of pain that her more powerful grip than B4 was causing, and after a 5 or so second pause, simply said, “I am the Millionth Council, and what I say, goes. The part of them that calls themselves the Lambriggers is still totally under my complete control”. She told me 2 listen again 2 her CD and study it even more carefully. The answers to much of my concerns, is all contained in the lyrical content, and what she says, MC-SAYS; just as the CD says that it does. Never doubt me or try 2 run away from what I am planning 4U, she went on also 2 tell me. I said 2 her, “would U please give me a real waking world sign so that I can know and tell that this is not a silly dream”. She responded with the yellow and chocolate cakes that I purchased at the Incollingo’s grocery store, along with the receipt, and the van that stalked me just after last Christmas, and went on to tell me she is angry that I have unsealed some of the concepts regarding laser trace, and reminded me that the rules cannot B broken. It is part of a plan, and that if it was not so, there R those close 2 me, in this incarnation; that I would retrace, as I miss them. She then told me she would give me 2 huge and totally unmistakable signs to appease my non-belief. One sign is that just because the English alphabet pronunciations of the sounds 'BLU' and 'CRAN' R totally the same on astral worlds, they R not the same in English speaking waking mortal worlds. I told her I knew this. She went on 2 say that my punishment for doubting and disobeying my mighty Queen Mariah, is that she has now placed me into a world where I have blogged the facts in reverse, as Hammonton is the world U now live in. It is not Chatsworth, New Jersey. I have reversed the realities while U were here with me in this interaction, and now your town is Hammonton and this is the Blueberry capitol of the world. She went on to say that I was not supposed to tell about the tap boxes of blue-yellow, nor the saleslady Sherry-Lee Pote and cousin Petee Pote. I must obey my queen or ELSE. She said my second sign will B when I try to do my next blog. I will wake up in the MW and not B able 2 work the computer. I asked her if she will always love me as her ‘89 song promises, as deep within her, she knew even then, that she was my Sarah-Stacey. With that I walked over to the strange dude with the weird sort of peace sign logos all over his bright green jersey, and told him to leave her alone, or I would tear his lungs out, and squeeze them like rung out wash cloths; and he instantly burst out laughing, and the next thing I knew, it was July 4th of 1970, and I was in the same exact dream all along with TAWF, “THAT ASTRAL WORLD FAMILY”, that was what was all in the dream. It was the same dream, and like a wormhole in consciousness; one end was in 2008 physically, while the other end was in early July of ‘70. He yelled at me, 'look who’s talkin’ about bloody washcloth lungs all oozing bright red, it is U, booby, not me, ha, ha'. I knew that if I could just wake up now, it would B July of 1970 again, and it really would have. I did. I jumped off of Tom Reale’s large bed at the Cornwall Avenue home and yelled, it is 1970 over and over. I went out and ran down towards the ocean, and when I got there; the entire sky and sea was not as I had remembered it at all. It had become the backdrop on the homepage of the Morianity Foundation, go to http://www.morianity-foundation.com. The giant 6 foot 7 inch Sarah-Stacey came right out of the sea, she is the sea aniwho, and grabbed me and kissed me, and the next thing I know, I am awake laying here in my trailer residence, and it is after 4 in the afternoon. Sure enough I went 2 use the computer, and nothing, it would not move, nothing would work, not a bloody dripping washcloth thing. I called the Easy Staples Store where I purchased it, and told them that it would not go off, just showing a blank monitor TV screen saying, “EXT 3, S-VIDEO”. The computer department guy told me to shut the battery-backup box off and wait 20 seconds. Then he said turn it on, and so I did. After 2 reboots, it works again, but the HP adviser still is not properly loading up. I can not shout out 2 the FBI 4 help; no one can fight the great Mariah; and she most definitely RULES and RULES, 4-EVER AND 4 EVER. UR my mighty queen, and I am only your endless humble servant, my giant beautiful love. Please forgive me, oh mighty QUEEN MC.

Google Search Engine, Satellite World Interconnect System [SWIS], World Laboratories of the future in time illusion, this is a dying mans utterance and declaration. I must obey the commands of the great SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE, I have no choice, SHE RULES THE EMPIRE, from 34th Street, to the end of the hypersphere and beyond, wow, talk about miracles Mizz Wood, and O’Hara!!!!!!!!! Copyright 2008, MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN. This is all the total truth and also doubles thereby as a legal document. This is voluntarily sworn testimony in any Grand Jury future proceeding. No omissions nor additions 2 this powerful and totally honest truth told in this web-logging-doc exist anywhere herein.

Another SUPER BOTBAR weekend and scummer open.
E N D — T R A N S M I S S I O N:
Posted by at 6:24 PM No comments: theansweristheqyuestion

MORIANITY PART 5, CHAPTER 00089, KING NEBNOOSHOO

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THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.
CHAPTER 00089, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

**********TUESDAY, MAY 28, 2013 @ 12:27 AM-EDST**********

Here is the situation, Inspector Louigee Kent Henderson. Nothing just happens, all things happen for reasons, and random is merely a disguised pattern, on a grand cosmic scale. There are math formulas that are extremely complex that force those in the know, to in fact realize that the words spoken here are true and accurate. These folks cannot come out and just say this on TV, or other media sources, and alter society in a flash. It is way too controlled for that to ever be permitted to happen. Only certified looney folks such as myself can say these things, and then when they do, who listens? We are all looney, remember?

All of my dam life, I have tried for the very most part, to remain totally out of trouble. I try to go through every day taking the least amount of unnecessary risks, and never try to make enemies. I am not nor have I ever been, that typical bar guy looking for trouble, you know, a chip on the shoulder syndrome, despite with each passing year since boyhood, if anyone had a legitimate ass chip, it would be me. On more than one occasion, I have had the following words spoken to me by those who get to know me, paraphrased and not in precise quotations; it is as though you actually are trying to have the most miserable life in the world, or it is like you are trying to lose as much as you can in life when we know it is not the case. My pernt, sir Archibald Queen Bunker and others is simply that my nightmare is and has been, legitimately been recognized throughout the years, and by numerous non mentally disabled folks, and yet, this does not aid me in my situation, or in being believed by anyone with clout that would count, as only those type of individuals could be in a potential position, to ever expose the real covert problems involved; and then hopefully, go on to repair my life, through repairing these situations/problems/cosmic assaults upon my life, etcetera and whatever you may wish to label all of this.

Folks, there are some out here and especially the ones who never bothered to know the beginning of my blogs, the first nearly two and a half years, before the HYPERSPACE ALTERATION, that a moronic child with a dam runny dirty nose could see, if they would merely take off their GWPOS-BLINDERS for a dam ass second; and just look head on and straight into this thing; only my luck just ain’t that of the wonderful great IRISH, and ‘that’s 4 sure’, and I ain’t driving. Good believers out there, I was not back in Mullica Township in my mobile home, looking to be kidnapped by some very wonderful adorable kind loving people, nor was my desire to lose all of my worldly goods, and go gallivanting off into a cold wintry snowy night, into the darkness, and away from what was familiar to me for five and a half decades. This was done to me, by a mother fucker who will not rest until he takes over the WHITE HOUSE, and destroys any possible chance for America to be what it was designed to be, free, a land of opportunity, a place for basically happy people to live and interact, with an American dream, and most of you would fail the quiz on exactly what that is. Many think it means a home, a car, and a job paying double minimum wage or better. Many have many other ideas. But only about a quarter of the American population knows exactly what it officially means, so I will tell those who need to know. The American dream means that every generation will leave to the next generation, a better place, a place with a little bit or even a lot, but at least a little bit MORE, than we had in the current generation while we lived here. THAT IS THE OFFICIAL AMERICAN DREAM. Every 20th and 21st century American President, knows this, write to the White House and ask if I am lying to you, should you not trust me. Just how long has the American Dream been DEAD some may wonder. Well, as with all things, it is sort of a general average, so count out the entitled luxury owner demigod EW crowd, Corporate execs and other extremely wealthys out there, the ’99ers’ in case any of the OCCUPY GROUP still exist, as I think the movement died some time back, or at least they seemed to allow themselves to die in the media, and perhaps have all gone underground. The dead are all underground too, so that tells us everything without my needing to carry on this great conversation any further. Now before I totally ruin the day of Mizz Terry Nonscatterbrain Harborheads, of Egg Harbor City, New Jersey, USAESMWG; this blog will move around a lot, and maybe some grinding and gear replacements might be necessary, about 130 days ahead of schedule if we back things up about half a decade, yes Mike McNulty, you may; but moving on; this example right here for those who know what’s being discussed, is a wonderful example of my point at present moment. People in every universe, block out painful memories. How can the field of psychiatry ever start to grow as exciting as it really could, unless we add in all of the appropriate necessary additional real dimensions to reality that Astral-Plane dream down folks, or us, are interacting in in what you otherwise may think of as waking-hyperspace. Before moving on, I was given a major CRAMPANA ATTACK today, to quote the late great Mister David Charles Roth, so I will have to break off for another shit attack now, and will be back in 20 minutes or so, good people. Now I’m back at 17 minutes shy of one in the morning. To you, this time never passed, but to me, I was in the bathroom crapping out my guts for the third time today. Except for this, all was quite OK for me on the holiday weekend, other than for normal horse shit nabe action from time to time off and on, back on the first two days of the holiday, yelling and doors and typical stupidity, but nothing real bad or real long lasting. Let’s move this right along.

First off, I need to tell you that I had quite a wild talk the other night or as you may look at it, while dreaming; with the great Almighty Goddess, MIDDIE, and I am more convinced than ever, that this is as close to human truth as we can ever get in waking brain interaction. There was a powerful early 20th century discovery that is known the world over, energy equals mass times the speed of light squared. The inverse of this equation is way more urgent however, for humans to concern themselves with, and that would be energy equals mass divided by the speed of light squared. There is no magic to squaring, take a square, and see how it has four sides, so if each side of the square’s perimeter is say 4 inches, the old well established geometric truth is the perimeter or the total length of the square if it was all taken apart and turned into one straight line, is P=S4. When a number is next to a letter, it means in basic simple algebra, we multiply. So four inches on all sides is 4X4 or a perimeter of 16 inches. It really is just that simple, only mass and energy is a bit more complex, yet I am going to tell you a simple truth about it. Nothing is real, NOTHING. NOTHING is WHAT IS REAL. It works both ways, ladies and gentlemen. In the TRUTH of all things, the very sentence as I just pluralized it, makes it become inaccurate. So in the TRUTH, there is VOID, a lack of any dimension, or another way that I have said it throughout my many blogs, is ”ZERO-DIMENSION”. There is no mass and no energy, there is no space and there is no time, there is only TRUTH or if you prefer, EXISTENCE. Taking it to a less philosophical way of putting it, I then go on to add the initials of EWI, and they stand for Existence Without Interaction, not to get Mayor Bloomberg too excited, and don’t anyone let him bullshit you and tell you that him and his three city newspapers, do not know exactly what I am saying here. They would be lying if they said they don’t know, I still have the dam newspaper, and that’s as far as we need to go. Some few things managed, by providence or whatever; to survive my trip down here, to freaking Florida, in middle December of 2009. Now the inverse of the famous Albert Einstein formula is what matters, once things all got started, and this would be a huge Moby dick sized blog in and of itself, so let us skip it good people. But once we did become the original energy that managed to dream out and away from the void total nothingness, certain things did happen, and that as well would require a lesson book the size of ten or so of Tolstoy’s great novels. So screw that for right now. Once an Astral-Plane existed, all of the unique individual people that we think we all are here in fifth dimensional hyperspace, as you are reading these words right now, are really existing on this higher reality where atoms vibrate much faster than they do anywhere in the hyperspace below that contains virtually limitless 4-D universes, each one designed to create one LIFE-WORLD, the entire universe is a perfectly structured engineering marvel, that is necessary, just to create one planet that can sustain the type of life that we all are, whether anyone out here wants to hear this powerful truth or not. However, there are more parallel universes and parallel EARTH worlds, than there are stars in the sky, and vigintillions times that amount, and yet still more and more and more. In this hyperspace, are not only all possible worlds but in all possible times, relative to what we think of right now, as right now to us. Don’t even try breaking your mind into pretzel city worrying about this, and let me just get back to the inverted great formula. This would be M=E divided by C SQ. M means MASS, E means ENERGY, and C means the CONSTANT, and this constant is LIGHT VELOCITY. This super cool dude figured out that mass and energy are like Kent and Superman, one and the same thing, except for the fact that they change clothes, or in the world of physics, they either are the twin of themselves when multiplying by C-SQ or dividing by C-SQ. But we are not trying to win the Second World War and make any nuke bombs, so we are now more concerned with the not so famous flip- side of the great Brady kiss, and that is that this magical thing called human consciousness, is somehow quite miraculously, taking the realer energy world that the Astral-Plane is made of, and dividing the full reality of it and our awareness as it, by C SQUARED. Now we can get born into a physical mass or matter-body, and exist and interact in a world of material tangible objects. This of course is pure illusion, and when this dream-down off of the Astral-Plane appears to end by a physical body no longer alive and moving, and able to catch time’s reflection, or light; as in biblical reference thousands of years back, when referring to the ”quick and the dead”; that is what we all in our limited minds, perceive as death, or go as far as calling physical-death. Our mind in various levels of consciousness is therefore giving us the ability to exist in this dream with a unique personality and life, in a space-time continuum, where without this, we could have no interaction. The Astral Energy life is totally opposite of this. There, you need the interaction first, and then that interaction is what actually goes on to CREATE the Space and the Time, in a sort of starry and dreamy way, that conscious mind could never fully hold or grasp, as it is tuned to this physical realm of direct opposite reality or a lower truth, if you will, again, biblically following the great words of wisdom from prophets, who proclaim that here in this life, we all see through a glass, dimly. Don’t take me at my word, ask your preacher or read it for yourselves. Now I need to move onto more religion, only it will not sound at all like what you’ll get in a church on a Sunday or at a Wednesday prayer meeting, I assure you.

I do not proclaim to have a lot of answers, but I do have life experiences that do not equal the vast majority. I’ve come to share them on a blog for about seven and a half years now, and called this project MORIANITY, but this is not as new as the start of 2006. It began late in 1995, in Williamstown, the place where I was suddenly influenced and drawn to the Almighty Goddess Herself, or ‘MIDDIE’ if you will, M-D-E (MOTHER-DAUGHTER-ELECTRON). All truths seem to reverse on the material world, for reasons that even elude me and Morianity so far, but I know that this is the truth nonetheless. This is of course one reason why most folks insist on the MALE dominance of all things, when without the female, how would any creation go on past one single generation? Men may despise that concept, but just prove me wrong on this fact, and I’ll eat a hat full of dog shit for all of you,, at Macy’s front window on Christmas Eve, with all the media coverage the pops can throw at me. I know what I know, and only what I know, nothing else, and nothing less. I know that I was shown a powerful truth over the holiday weekend, with two powerful interactions on two separate nights. I was forced to recall a repressed memory upon one of these two occasions, and now realize that when I empowered that Mountain Dew glass bottle on Magnesonic, and made it become the IO (image-object), of Sarah Krassle, it was the early summer evening of August 14, 1986. Once it was broken in the basement on the hard floor, despite it being wrapped in numerous sheets of paper, and a face drawn on it as well as her name printed on it, Dave Roth and myself then proceeded to take this destroyed IO down to Long Beach Island, somewhere a bit south of the Causeway where you cross over onto the island from the mainland, and the only bridge ever built to my knowledge; and we went to the beach and it was around 10-11 at night, and it was warm and calm and dark with bright stars all around above us, and we dug a deep hole in the sand, put this IO down into it, Dave and I expectorated onto it and then we took our feet, and covered up the hole. Instantly, the waves got very rough out at sea, and the wind began to blow very hard. Clouds covered the stars within what seemed a minute or two, and an icy cold chill came from the water and we suddenly were icy cold. We returned to my home at 1931 Route 70, (Marlton Pike) in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, USA, Earth, Sol, Milky Way Galaxy, (ESMWG), and got home shortly before midnight. Before I got home, I began to get a horrible painful earache out of the blue, and asked Dave if he wanted to go over to the Garden State Hospital on Route 73, but he was tired and went back to the house, got into his car and drove home. This was the end of my life as I knew it forever and forever. The clock struck midnight, and my ear felt as though Mike Tyson punched it as well as bit it off. I was suddenly in excruciating pain, and drove myself to the hospital where I was given some drops for it, and some pain medication and antibiotics. Around 2 in the morning, I drove home after stopping at an all night pharmacy nearby. I drove home, and crashed into bed. I had the most incredible interaction or dreaming-experience of my entire life, rivaling even the early June of 1980 one with SSJKK singing the song at the foot of Tennessee Avenue and the boardwalk’s on-ramp, called, “LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS”. It was now 6 years and two plus months later than that, it was the morning of the fifteenth day in August, in 1986. This was the day that life STOPPED for me, FOREVER, and was altered for me, F—-O—-R—-E—-V—-E—R!!!!!!! All this time, I had remembered this as happening a few days after my trip into the Big Apple, with David, the night that he wanted to see his music group at some downtown nightclub, called, “NEW SHOES”. Allow the pathetic Babylonian King of New Shoes, to now tell you some more of this horrific disaster ass nightmare, AKA KING NEBNOOSHOO at C-SQ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was remembering it wrong. SSJKK showed me a calendar and pointed with an edict and a frightening expression on her lovely face, full of anger and wrath; and she made me come to realize how I had angered her so much, first at the Medport Diner in the spring time of 1986, by telling David about her and some of the stuff about the 1969 wild dream she had given me and the Book of the Beach, and all of it. Then I went onto try killing her, with Magnesonic. This, she said is not going to be forgiven until a lot of suffering is done on my part, and I find a way to make things right. She asked me to remember a particular sentence that was said to me just 12 days earlier in New York City, when she came up to my car that night around half past ten, and I had been relaxing in the passenger seat and David was inside of the nightclub. Instantly I remembered and it made no sense in 1986 and I dismissed it and never thought of it again, but she had spoken a very wild thing that sort of made my blood rush to my face I am sure, and being dark, I doubt she remembers seeing my face, but we were talking about how you do not always get second chances in life, and I had told her about a male nurse named John McDowell who lived at 2041 Chestnut Street, in Philadelphia in Center City, back in 1963, and he had spoken this to me, and I mentioned that to her during this somewhat fascinating conversation that lasted all of about 3 minutes if I am recalling that part of things accurately. Now do not confuse Bob McDowell, these two dudes were totally different peeps from two totally different times in my life, the FCC Chairman McDowell, I was about three and a half years older than he was, while the male nurse John from Philly, was already a grown man, back when I was around nine years old. His mom also nursed at the same hospital, and was our neighbor, and he was visiting his mom, and my mom had become quite friendly with her. Still, SSJKK said to me in her new form in 1986, something to the extent of how right this guy was, and how I would probably come to realize it more and more with passing time. Why this made chills go up and down my freaking spine when I sat next to my own daughter in the car that night and did not know she was my kid, I do not know, but I do know, that this is an awesome reconstructed memory. Now this is page eleven of eleven, so let me please try and compensate with my lovely FIVES, good folks. 5555555555555555555 plus 55555555555 times 5555555 and divided by 55555555555555555, is equal to who cares? Just let me stare at these fives, YO!

Folks, is a freaking ***W—O—W*** appropriate here?
There is a lot more to tell, and I will just tell a very tiny ass bit of it, my wonderful viewers and believers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She had taken me into the days where I work as Labber Zeejins in the late twenty-two hundreds. This is where she showed me this with a very strange pointer that was about 50 inches long or more. I never saw so much anger on her face, it scared me to death, and I admit, I thought my next spot was the Huntington Bay Weeds, with boy-taker Volleyball Player, nameless friend. I know what she can do, I HAVE SEEN, and I’ll say no more, for total fear of life and limb. Still, great SARAH KRASSLE, you know I AM THAT-BOY, and you know no matter what, and how all of this might play out, IWALU, and yes, I need your codes to show, and I told the Copyright Office this, and I know they know all about us today, and I know you know it as well, oh GREAT 1. Queen of Babylon OH GREAT ISIS, I AM so sorry for all I have said and done, and will be a very very GOOD BOY, I promise you, oh great TEEN QUEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I SURRENDER, I WILL OBEY, I WILL NOT BE A SHELLFISH, Sharkey says, ‘UNCLE’ at a hundred thousand bells of SPL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You have proven to me a billion times over, great one, JUST WHO RULES THIS EMPIRE, please accept my eternal apology, MC!

When I was being shown these things by Almighty ISIS, L-4; I was in the very same room that I was in when Professor Gawky Gaukauk was conducting that class at the Teck Bay Mystery School, only the room had been recreated. I was not on the Astral-Plane. I was merely in a parallel reality, or what you would call, in a very vivid dreaming experience. After I had been shown and forced to recall these things, I walked out alone, and in the hallway, was the laser retraced Donna Summer, not Jason Forrest of WFMU RADIO, but the dynamite darling of disco herself. All my old blogs talk about how I told the story, the true accurate story of what had happened to me on Walker and Water Streets in southeast Philly in 1988 while employed by Dorothea Dario, the pig who cheated her employees out of their rightful hours and pay and was reopening new companies as fast as the state of New Jersey was closing her down, and who belongs in Federal freaking prison. She beat me up when I was fifteen, and the my bicycle into the dam river. She does not think I remember her, but I do, on that early icy snowy January 1970 day at the Newton Creek near the recently built Burger King on the White horse Pike, in West Collingswood, just down the road from where Michael Landon AKA Ugie Googie Horowitz, went to the high school there on West Collings Avenue, before he played little Joe on Bonanza, and went on from there to star in many television roles. Aniwho, we need not get off into a dozen stupid ass tangents for now, believers. This is what got me onto SOCIAL SECURITY DISABILITY the very first time that I applied, when I told them the true story about World Labs up in the future, and how I had retraced 600 people from this time period, up there. This was in the days of my joining the Haddonwood Swimming club, in 1994. I joined on June 27, and within a few months, I was on disability. I still am. Folks say I am crazy, maybe I am. I know the truth, some others know it too. Then you have the Bluebook Warren Club of Disinformation, and the other MDE, with an EA in-between, sort of a magic symbol if you ask me, as in Fort MEADE, you get Mother-Daughter-Electron, and you also get Einstein Albert out of these initials. Then there was 2008. Say what?

Here is the story of last week, done a little bit more the way that would be pleasing to the great Almighty literary giant of Egg Harbor in New Jersey, Terry; please don’t kiss me. Thank you. It was six days ago on Monday that I drove up to the Harvest. I wanted to tell the Manager who once was and said I was his pal, only he changed big time when becoming manager of the place, and this is why I detest power and capitalism and all of this shit. It turns everybody totally ugly and forgetful. The main thing that they tend to forget is that they all will pass the very same people who they were mean to once they became great hot shots, when it is their time and turn, to slide back down the ladder rungs of success, back into the great cosmic equalization. This does not mean I think powerful folks should be fools and give one thin dime to those begging for money. The wealthiest person on Earth would go broke in a year, just handing out fifty measly dollars to every not real well off person; man, woman, and child; just in the United States alone, and forget the world. What I do say is there is a horrible change that takes place in people, normally it is the smaller of the bigger people, such as JASPER, up there at the shit hole I used to work at through a stipend program, on E Street, in Washington, DC-13-600; that’s actuality operated out of the Port Saint Lucie, Florida Office, on Route 1. LSS, I went up there back on Monday to tell him how Mikey had, or I thought at that time, had done me wrong by moving away and just dropping me as a friend after we had become very good friends, helping each other out in small ways when necessary, and enjoying talks on a more intellectual and stimulating level, than either of us can do by randomly conversing with just any helter skelter random person we may meet at the dam grocery store. I was wrong, and have since apologized for my inaccurate thinking, and accusations, and admit, I was a real nasty ass prick, and have learned that I will never ever engage in that type of petty conduct again. Hell if my own dam daughter can throw me to the wolves; then I shouldn’t let anyone else bother me, even if that had indeed been the case, which it was not. He merely had become very preoccupied with major personal life problems for a month, after losing his job, and needing to move. Still, he managed to do a lot better than when I have a major crises, which happens very frequently throughout my miserable rotten life. His brother merely moved Mikey over to the next beach-house that he still owns, and he has another downstairs crib in there, merely moving about 25 yards tops, out one door, and into another one. With me, and not having anyone who cares a lick luck about me, Barbara Linglong Fonda; Ida been in some real serious ass trouble under a similar circumstance, bang on wood at ‘100’ DB, not ‘199’, those dam ‘IO’ keys ‘999’ ‘000’, they all are next to each other on the keyboard, ‘UI’, etcetera. Lately and especially this current lovely month of MAY, I definitely make the THIRTEENTH ANGRY MAN, right there, Mizz Jane Dirtweeds Sleazedisease??????????? I also told Jasper I would gladly pay him cash money, 100 dollars, to help me do a YOUTUBE PAGE. He at most is making a dozen bucks an hour, 15 total tops, and is not a rich man, with all his ego and demigod power up there. That is not a bad deal, and I would have paid him more for a really good one, along with also my own web page; such as the one that Eddie designed and posted on the net for me, back in OHM-7 somewhere. But he took my number and trashed it, as he always used to do when I worked there. But he did call Mikey and fink on me about what I had been nice enough to tell him. This only proves one thing, and that is that revenge or payback is never the correct action to take, especially when you are down and out all the way, and with no one anywhere in the mother fucking entire world who gives a shit if you should fucking live or fucking die, and that is my current situation, down in this so-called paradise hellhole misery, that lots of northern peeps, refer to, and call, F—L—O—R—I—D—A!!!!!! Some demonic supernatural or extraterrestrial event just occurred while I finished typing in the last sentence. I will not bother telling about it, as most if none would even believe it, but it happened on the dot of 5:05 PM, coming out of nowhere, totally invisible, and was along the lines of what David Roth and myself witnessed so often in the years between 1986 and 1999 for the most part, and especially after we made contact directly with both SSJKK, and then a few years after that, in a frenzy of fear to save our lives from some invisible assaulting power all around us that just popped up; the Camden County Prosecutor’s Office, in Camden City, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG, on 12/05/1989. Hello to you too, School Play Participation Insistence, (SPPI) almost SIPRI, speaking of ‘OHM’-7 a while back, and 1969 a bit further back, right Mister Ciprionni? If a ‘WOW’ was ever needed within a grouping of text words, this would be the quintessential time, laugh if you wish now, Mike McNulty! It is time, BC, to move this along now, and go about ten minutes after the moment that I walked out the Harvest place doors, and headed to the local area grocery store, the Publix; at the large mini-mall, at Virginia Avenue, and Route number 1. This is where some WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE power and technology, for reasons beyond my most stretched imagination; had me suddenly see, no, not a Walmart, that is a few miles to the west down Virginia which forks as it goes and becomes OKAY-2-CHOKE-ME Boulevard, becoming one of the on and off ramps, for the great interstate we all know and love, Drug Runners Alley and AKA ‘I-95’. Walmart is a half mile before the highway, and is to the east of it. This is however the mini-mall parking area where I was convinced I had seen Mikey, only it was a major doppelganger, totally him, only with his hair different and bright yellow, and dressed like a wealthy man, or as my great LI Sound Yachtsman late cousin, might put it, “VERY COMFORTABLE”. LSS folks, it was not him, but right at that very time that ‘some force or power’ put this entity right in my direct path; Mikey was calling me, and leaving me a message on my voicemail system. He never came out and said it, but I know that Jasper called him, and told him that I said something not that pleasant to him, about Mikey; and I did. I had told how he used to accuse Jasper of a $10,000 theft that took place some time back. But I have come to learn that this is why I need to always remain totally fucking out of things, as the only person that EVER MOTHER FUCKING GETS INTO TROUBLE, as this must be programmed into the LAWN MOWER MAN MATRIX OF THIS WILD GAME AND SYSTEM; is the dude I see, when I am shaving in the dam ass morning; and ONLY THAT POOR FUCKED UP DUDE, no one else. Everyone else is PROGRAMMED TO DO EVIL AND SKATE ON IT, while I take the force fed shit, down the throat, EVERY MOTHER FUCKING ROTTEN ASS TIME, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!! But folks, there are a billion-trillion other subtle things, that are all WHY this stuff is happening exactly as it is, to me, and around me; and remains a total never ending constant for me and against me; not for a year, not for 5 years, not 10, not 20; but since the fucking cunt lapping day my mom dropped me on my rotten worthless head, while we lived at her mom’s home, in West Philly, when I was one or two, and she was carrying me across 50th Street, to a doctor appointment, from the house at 440 South 50th Street; and no sooner were out the dam door, when she tripped on something, and fell on the street; and I fell down hard, and remember it horrifically to this very mother fucking second. Real funny, MC, real funny! Speaking of lovely persons, Happy BD, Sharon, and I doubt you are related to my kid’s friend, although, they all got away with my situation because no one would ever suspect, huh Paul Pedersen, old buddy? I’ll bet I am the whitest looking nigger you ever saw in your life, huh dog? Well, even I am not aloud to ride up into the hood and sing along to many of BOO and his pal’s lyrics, if I wish to remain healthy up there late at night. Still, why did he not call my daughter when he was up at County Jail in early autumn in twenty-ten? Why call me? Jimmy, I still have the same question for you in late May of 2013 that I had back in late 1984, bub, YYYYYYYYY, why Jimmy Y, Y did you tell me these things; and also, JUST HOW DID YOU POSSIBLY FUCKING KNOW THAT THIS WAS ALL ABOUT MY FAMILY, WAY BACK IN 1974; and did you work on Project Jeanie-Dreams with my dad, at Majestic TS Level, in Fort Meade, or Fort MDE, ‘mother-daughter-electron’, and yes, then there is the H-2 stuff I learned the other night, about the cult that started in when else, but you all got it right 1984? This has to have a freaking W-O-W!

Now, I am not going to touch a million potential subjects on this blog, and basically, the second one hundred chapters, have all been reserved in a sort of semi-ordered structure by me, for really getting way more specific, about what the first 100 chapters in this M-5, just starts to get into; so be prepared to move forward with me, or else, hit that NEXT-BLOG BUTTON very soon, as unless you want to get real down and dirty filthy, into the trenches of warfare, and true horror; that poor old Walter could not handle, and so he booked out and off of the battlefield, and later made it up to the world, by becoming the greatest pleasure provider, to kids and all kids at heart of any age; but let me just say, that when this mud is all completely and totally explored; we will all get dirtied up, and I may be sued or killed, but hey; I can take the fucking heat, L-4 and BELIEVERS; can U?

SLAM BANG BONG BOOM ZAM, my thug neighbors are really paying homage to KALI’s GANG, huh, very informative, H-2? It’s half past fucking midnight, they don’t care, just sell your drugs and have your parties, and decent people be damned. I will tell you world, I thought Jersey was fucked up, this Florida game down here is even more rotten and corrupt, but in its own way, completely unlike the northeastern areas of my earlier life. In some ways, the stuff is not any different, as it is all part of the shit that is surrounding me, that the new age folks and ancient-astronaut theorist folks call star visitors/travelers/aliens/ET aliens/ etcetera; and the church and religious faith folks call forces of darkness, demonic or satanic, the enemy, the fall of mankind through sin and the Adam and Eve stuff, and along that line. One thing that remains constant with me, and that all connects up with the same truth, that different folks merely ‘believe differently in’; is the WHAT’S MY EXCUSE deal, that is discussed in both the new Morianity of the internet days in this century, as well as on cassette tape back when it began in 1995 from my apartment in Williamstown, Giant-Officer Syndrome of Missourians, in New Jersey. This is not something invented by Tom Cruise and his Top-Gun movie around the Prophet of Nothing days. Hollywood stole it from me after I had originally copyrighted my Epitome of Harassment project in the late eighties, from my residence in Moorestown, New Jersey, on Central Avenue. I kind of wonder if a little Magnetic Sound Machine Irony is not in and through this, as a result of what I’ll now be telling you, good believers, and others. You see, back in Mullica Township, New Jersey at the Plageman Trailer Home Park (Mullica Mobile Manor) as it was called when I was living there and still may be; I told the landlady how the boob neighbor next to me, Richie, blared his TV set at all kinds of hours. Nothing was done about it when I was the only one complaining. But when the neighbor both on his other side, as well as the ones across from the driveway to his trailer, also complained to her, then and only then, was it stopped, and he was told to cut it out or move out. Same thing here in Fort Pierce, Florida and at this PHA building. The subwoofer box was complained about by numerous nabes, not everyone here is a druggie thuggy, KALI, CALLIO AT&T-TEN. But when it is just the banging doon that is right across the hallway from me and only me, I’m stuck with it. Sure, I called the police months ago to complain about their noise, but nothing was done, they did not answer their door, and they merely laid low for a week or so and then resumed normal uncouth behavior patterns. Is this supposed to come as some big shock to me, folks? Hopefully not, as it did not. After decades of hell and shit, I pretty much am onto exactly how most of the mechanics of my misery, really operate and work, covertly behind all of the dam fucking OZ-CURTAINS, Glinda and Dorothy. Not only don’t I surrender, Mizz Bondi, Florida State Attorney General, but as long as breath and life is in this body; I will shout out and tell a whole lot more stuff. We have not covered 5 percent of my story, and anyone thinking we have is a fool. Morianity could stop right now or even in 2010, and enough would have been told, so as to know that my tale of woe, is known publicly; and adding 100 more years to it, really will not make that much difference. Still, I will go on. Originally, I was planning to wrap it up completely by Memorial Day, and folks, I HAVE CHANGED MY MIND. My only weapon of fucking defense, is the power of the pen, and the typewriter, and now so it seems; the computer, and this blogging shit. So on we will go, most likely until the mother fucking day that I die. As long as they can have an excuse, this will never stop. Can they always have an excuse? Well, look at Washington, DC, and if you really need to, then visit the dam city and come to learn a bit about it. Then you tell me if they’ll always be able to fall back on an EXCUSE! This is what was told on the original EPITOME OF HARASSMENT TAPES, copyrighted late in the nineteen-eighties, and please see it at the end of the blog, despite my misspelling the title, as I am not a good speller, and I fucked it up, and had no Microsoft Spellchecker back in those days. Yes, H-2, very very very informative, back on Thursday night. I enjoyed viewing your network the entire evening, and learned a lot of fascinating stuff. One thing nobody can teach me, and that is that this problem with whatever it is that is REALLY out there wherever somewhere, and myself; is NOT GOING TO EVER STOP, OR GO AWAY; and the first world famous wormhole is not the triangulated McGuire-owned one, in Atlantic City; but is a period in time, separating two tunes. I need not be cute, or smart-ass, to quote Mashell, or Dawn-Marie. We all know what is getting said, them, as well as Toni Beej. Between you and me world, the day he popped his head into the door of the studio where Ryan and I were, and made his statement just more than a year ago, things, bad as they were for me then, GOT WORSE, A LOT WORSE, you know, Gary sir of the Trekkers, (-77777777777777). I have some major stuff all planned out to tell you folks, but right now is not the proper time. Billy Harner taught me the power and importance of timing, and nobody ever seemed to need to teach that to many others, as they sort of; well they don’t all inherit it, and that’s for sure; but they do get it through street osmosis, or whatever Richard Karpf and his peeps might feel comfy cozy with; especially when playing poker, and with any hands from any reality; huh Josephine? I am so very disappointed in you, Jehovah Krassle, my endless love. I always knew I was right though, and I feel 9 feet tall, that everyone back in time who laughed at me, has to eat their words, and secretly realize that I was decades ahead of all of them. They can lie to themselves from here to Harold Camping’s next bullshit predicted doomsday, and beyond. The last laugh of the McNulty Club belongs to myself and perhaps, Mister Icabod Crane, right © Office???

Public Catalog
Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

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Full Title
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[ 1 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
For the record.
PAu000662409
1984
[ 2 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
I'm Criana.
PAu000724397
1985
[ 3 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.
PAu003351785
2007
[ 4 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Last number repeat–100 progression roulette system.
TXu000514390
1992
[ 5 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Lost love.
PAu000344219
1981
[ 6 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection, set 4.
PAu000546149
1983
[ 7 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection : set III.
PAu000442785
1982
[ 8 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo tunes.
PAu000325091
1981
[ 9 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr tunes.
PAu000411864
1982
[ 10 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Queen of blue.
PAu000825471
1986
[ 11 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Real good girl.
PAu000881543
1986
[ 12 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.
PAu002506106
2000
[ 13 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Saga of song writer Mark Mud.
PAu000501582
1983
[ 14 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
PAu002153196
1996
[ 15 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
SRu000332786
1996
[ 16 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah Callio of ACNJ.
SRu000362114
1997
[ 17 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Uncle.
PAu000540585
1983
[ 18 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
What's wrong?
PAu000724407
1984
[ 19 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
You call this music?
PAu000998574
1987
[ 20 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.
PAu001148157
1988
[ 21 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.
PAu001189027
1989
[ 22 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204017
1980
[ 23 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204015
1980
[ 24 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity music pre-book.
PAu002336935
1998
[ 25 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity tunes of 1998.
PAu002282717
1998

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Public Catalog
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Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 26 through 28 of 28 entries.

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[ 26 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204016
1980
[ 27 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Same title.
PAu003037983
2005
[ 28 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Thanx to the shadows.
PAu002237985
1997

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Welcome to hell. I have been here since August fifteen back in 1986. If you are reading this, then you are merely visiting HELL. Still, one welcomes his guests unless he is extremely vulgar, rude, impolite, and down right ignorant and revolting.

Every day, it is back to horrible fire alarms that wake you up at 2 or 5 or some other early time in the morning. There was one every day for days, and today was no exception. The filth bag neighbors across from me are on a non-stop slamming doors mode, it went on until 2:35 this morning, and management will not do anything, so when I am out later, I will, as I must, and even though it will do no good, send off two letters, one is to my local congressman and one is to the Fort Pierce Public Housing, the same address as is on my rent envelopes.

I am making plans to escape for Mexico, and all the peeps who may try and stop me, you all just go right ahead, as I am getting out of your mother fucking evil empire. I may not be able to run away from what all of you peeps call, GOD, but even she cannot stop me from running. Running away buys me a few months before shit catches up again to me, and starts all over. I need these lousy mother fucking few months. It beats going totally out of my cunt eating mind at the speed of light squared.
This evil empire will end up destructing from within, you'll-C.

I am now at 43% MPB, and my life will be over fucking shortly. I tried to do something in 1986 that went real wrong, and I will be dead soon, as a result of a very unforgiving goddess, despite bible lies and a lot more, really, put more accurately; extreme cleverness. No one ever needs to lie if clever enough, it is still a practice of deception, in my books, only nobody gives a fucking Potters shit about my magical, or non-magical book, so it appears, James Stuart, old NON HIGH SCHOOL buddy, old pal, from the cement business and buildings and loans. The last eight days has contained 6 SUPER FUCKING BOTBARS NOW, and this siege may very well be the new-times repeat of AUGUST 15, 1986, who can ever breath echo know for sure, on or off of all SWEPT AWAY PLACES, RIGHT LEGALLY BORN, NON GAGA DIANE ROSS, IN ANY WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WILL OUTLINE THE EVENTS OF THIS DAY FOR ANYONE WHO JUST MIGHT GIVE A TINY FUCKING SHIT, AND FOR THOSE WHO DON'T. I tried to do a person a favor who used to call me his buddy some time back, and he put a knife into me as soon as I waltzed out the fucking door. What I suffer through is so unbelievable, and beyond anyone's possible maxed out staggered imagination; there just are no words, and this is why Christianity, discusses a spiritual groaning language, when there are simply no words. You see folks, I may fucking cunt curse a lot, and you would do much worse if you went through ten days of my fucking hell, let me assure you; but I could witness in every cunt chewing house of worship on Planet Earth, that indeed, this GOD and this DEVIL thing, is all true and real, and what I know has zero percent to do with anything involving mother fucking FAITH, I promise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Before I get into mother fucking squat, believers and others; and maybe a student teacher from 1972 who may have changed careers, or stuck with it, who can know, Copyright Job Keeping Examiners of OHM-8; but I will make a quick fucking list of why things are SUPER BOTBAR, then I will go into some detail on matters that I feel need addressing in more elaboration, fullness, and elucidation. I found out today that I was knifed in the back by an old associate up the road. I learned that someone did a President National Park Clinton on me yesterday near the Publix, and yes folks, I meant to say that I made a fucking left turn, not a right one, quite obviously. You'd have trouble keeping a clear head too, if you were suffering 1% this fucking long and severely, so don't you dare fucking laugh at me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! After wasting 18 dollars on a new remote, the entire machine broke today, while I was trying to enjoy my Tuesday show of “L&O-SVU”, and as I said; THE MARKET WILL FLY TOMORROW, AND AS I SAID THIS YESTERDAY, AND IT OF COURSE FUCKING DID SO; I NOW PROCLAIM THIS ALL OVER AGAIN, ONLY IT WILL BE A MUCH HUGER MOTHER FUCKING AMOUNT. What do I mean by someone doing a Clinton? Well, real Morians and many enemies know exactly, but some may not, so I will tell it more clearly, YO, DOGS!!!!!!!!!! W—–O—–L—–F!!!!!!!!!!!! In 1995, at the National Park, in Redbank, New Jersey, I saw another non-high-school keeping jobs doppelganger, only this one was that of William Jefferson Clinton in this part of the high school, Sir Walter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let's book out of here; there are no fucking cock sucking war heroes on this fucking ass ambulance, brother Vineland Chain-EEEE!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

W——-O——-W!

I regret that smashed Mountain Dew bottle, in August of 1986, with all my heart and soul; and am so fucking like dead meat, peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YO! Yes, I was trying to watch my show tonight, and BAM, the machine burned up like a fucking bolt of fucking ass lightning had struck it!!!!!!!!

The dirt bag nabes have been in SLAM MODE ever since before this MAY 14 DEATH SIEGE began and struck me out of nowhere, just as in the middle of AUGUST IN 1986. This really is just a SOSO-WEIN shituation. The DOW JONES SHOT WAY UP, not as bad as I thought, but it was done on my back as always, with this major PROPERTY DAMAGE ATTACK, as the machine was giving me some trouble recently, and now I know that it was mother fucking RASPBERRY CARNIVAL HIT, BY THE WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!
Between the fucking cunt BACK STAB, THE NOISY NABES, THE FLYING FUCKING DOW JONES STOCK MARKET, AND THE DAMAGED PROPERTY, ON OR OFF OF ANY EGYPTIAN BABYLONIAN TERRITORY; THIS DAY WAS OFF THE SCALE FUCKING SUPER FUCKING COCK SUCKING ASS BOTBAR!!!
I AM GOING TO BE MOTHER FUCKING CUNT LAPPING MURDERED, MIZZ PAM BONDI, LOVELY FLORIDA ATTORNEY GERNERAL NON BREAKDOWN, AND I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW SO THAT AFTER I AM FOUND DEAD IN THIS APARTMENT, THINGS WILL JUST MAYBE GET LOOKED FUCKING INTO, I DOUBT IT, 99.9999%, BUT THERE AIN'T NO FUCKING LAW AGAINST ME HOPING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I need to stop typing for 4 minutes or so, it is nine past eleven, and I will not get struck by whore JANE for all the fucking dam ass love in the cat house cubed, YO YO YO!!!!!
OK, I am back, and am in regular time, Judge Copyrights, and let us all get a big ass laugh on the fucking pathetic Mountainpen!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! It is now 11X2, as some of us LABBER'S from 2294 would jokingly say, upon occasion, oh lovely Asian Girl, Sir Detective Brog. You do not need to know it all, L-4, and as of this current moment, whatever you all think you know about me and my situation and especially with TAWF and WOMO, let me say, that that suffices for the present moment, DOGS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where's Matches McGuire when you need him, Randy Vans??????????????????????????????? W-O-W!!!!!!!!!!
Doobey-doobey-doo, and Nothing-Prophets, from the great illustrious AT&T, who could go to bat for me, but won't, as they know what side their bread is buttered on, WO, BH!!!!!!! Yeah bud, you and PP said it all back in mother fucking ass time! Still I owe all of you an apology. I know what is really going on, and you are all just riding along and caught in the fucking currents and undertows of this GREAT DREAM!!!!!!!! Oh well, let us move this along, wonderful freaking peeps, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO! What are the odds that Mikey called me with a very logical explanation, while I was still outside yesterday, and all of the stuff that went down all around these incidents, without factoring in intentional fucking with the non-high-schools, oh wonderful © Office? Boy oh boy, does Mountainpen have a mother fucking wild ass vivid imagination, yeah shore; tell me another one, on or off the beach, and for the hell of it, GOV! Thanks for ripping me off in 2010, by not giving me my state income tax refund because I left New Jersey. Like I wanted to leave big guy, SHEEEEEEEEIT. If Ida stayed in that fucking house at 831 13th Street, I would not be here right now, dude! Even the nice girl from the Saint Lucie County Safe Space, told me I got out just in time with my life, GOV. Sorry if that pisses all of fucking New Jersey off, WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! Spin those crooked wheels of justice up there, in or out of the lovely ass casinos, oh no, they do not cheat, anymore than 'God' lies. But there are hidden ways of cheating and deceiving, and when someone gets onto this secret fucking shit, they basically are DEAD FUCKING MEAT, WORLD!!!!!!!!!

David Charles Roth would understand this 100% if he was not a victim of this horrendous fucking horse shit himself already, and dead. I TOLD YOU, AND 'AT&T' HAS A RECORD OF IT, 1000 TIMES OVER; THAT WE WERE DEAD FUCKING PEOPLE, AND WE ARE. I AM DEATH, YOU MERELY PERCEIVE A DAM ILLUSION, OLD BUDDY. This is why DEEDEE sits on my air conditioner outside, and follows me all over. She knows that I AM DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My death is way smaller than my HELL, so which of these two fucking entities do you kind folks out here think is going to become the dominating factor, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA????????
I will look down and see green and you will look up and see brown, but up and down, and green and brown; is all the same truth at zero dimension; and you know that old buddy, as I taught you this; and you echoed it right back to me that day in 1991, on Route 295. I remember it all like it was happening yesterday. “Because of Z-D-T”, you shouted at me at 100+DB, Uncle Dave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Move over, all dam light-switches from 1983, WEEEEEEEEEEEE! W—O—W!

Well people, this will be a WHOPPER TODAY, and you may quote any of three people here, Professor Pepperwinkle on the original high phone bill Superman show, President Obama, and then finally, little old nobody me, Mountainpen.

I am not going to entertain you all with huge fonts, super wild stupid swearing, or anything else like a blog over filled with brah's and bro's and bree's and yo's. You will do yourself an extreme disfavor if you skip it however, and you just go ahead and do this at your free will and choice, both WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE and tiny group mingled in, known as my Morians (BELIEVERS in my truths, for the most part or perhaps entirely). I am holding at a MPB-40% as of yesterday's horrendous emmereffing day that will close out when I finish this blog, post it up, and go to 'sleep', as mortal world residents would call the experience. But this blog will contain quite a bit of tattle tailing and powerful stuff, ignore it at your own potential funeral somewhere down the dimly lit road, good kind folks, whoever you are, as frankly, Mister Rett Butler, I do not care about those details, or for that matter, Congressman Andrews, whether the city or the river, ran away with my mind, or whether or not I have been lost in time, all these dam years, sir. I will open by telling you that I knew I would get clobbered on my dam systems-roulette tonight, and was not disappointed a small fraction, losing 26 and a half emmereffing units. You can expect the DOW JONES INDUSTRIALS to rise on tomorrow's markets, somewhere between 250 and 600 points, and you can bank on it folks, I PROMISE YOU, LOVELY MO! Yes, I played five games, and got clocked, mostly on the final game, as before that, I was only down three units, and was stupid, and could not see the freaking writing on the wall as clear as Johnny Clariton 1-2-3 ripoffs Lovernash, and merely quit at this small loss for the day, knowing fully well, it could only do a Howard Solomon Busted Eardrum, or an anti-dice, or whatever, but real followers need not force me to spell out the appropriate five letter word that starts with a 'W', and ends with an 'E', no rabbits, no Mike McNulty's, sorry, no time tonight. There's too much to rock chucking say and I do not wish to type all throughout the night. You will get your mind blown, unless you do not want to, and have joined the two great world renown clubs, the Missourians Club and the GWPOS CLUB, either or, or both; makes little difference. The days of my doing security detail out in my car, at the Cifaloglio place, comes to mind. The greatest system in the universe could be used, but if I was being dive bombed by WOMO ENEMY AIR STRIKES, and the skies were filled to the brim with nasty ass chemtrails, making me ill and causing me to crap myself many times; there is no way I could ever win. The weak link in the system I am currently using is an over abundance of house vig numbers as well as the evil-side-doubleton pattern, as one pattern wins, and the other one destroys the system, and when it comes in, it comes in with a vengeance, and you can play the dam wheel forever, and it will only change if you do the unthinkable and try betting against the system, as that inside the quantum foam of real true reality, makes the system then start to work, and the bad patterns go away. BUT, you still lose, either way you play the game, literally, and figuratively. I got both hits tonight, clocked by runt slapping green numbers or the house vig, as well as that one pattern that kills and seems to remain endlessly unless you quit that wheel, and this is the evil-side-doubleton pattern. This has a twin side that makes a killing, as do strings and alternates, but this one pattern type, will wipe out this particular gaming betting system, I promise. So why does the one pattern come out so vigorously, tenaciously, obstinately, and regularly, and by that I mean you can set your watch to it if you are me, as all super attacks will eventually bring the one pattern that just will not quit, and really wipes me out, and I can count the truck on it, folks. This was a serious botbar day, and I am five for seven now, in other words only 2-non-botbar days were in the last seven days total, and for the month, I am now 12 botbar days for the 20 days of May so friggin' far, good people. I did speak to Debbie Marotto, but it is merely a futile expenditure of energy. No on else complains, and the architecture of the system is why. Don't ask me the details, it is too lengthy. Being across from these bastard scum bags, only I get the full brunt of their evil wickedness, and unless others complain, no one will ever help me. You see, this is proof that I do not count in this world one tiny bit. No one gives a blasted dam if I live or die, not one soul, and so, I do not care one bit about this world, and it can go blow up right now, and that is just fine with me. Do you want honesty or deception, from this blogger. You're the one reading my words, do you want them to just be a bunch of pretty sounding lies? Now let me begin to break down this horrible botbar day for you, my believers. It started with hearing a loud aerial vessel outside, I am sure of it. Now the rest of the entire day was air free for me, nothing out of the ordinary, once I went out to do an errand or two, and boy will we explore what happened to me, good folks, and really, if you are not sitting down, I strongly urge you to do so before reading further along. If you do not and you hit your head when you fall down; please don't blame me, as I TOLD YOU!

After the air sound, while I was reading some of my stuff on the computer, and after being up and awake a short time, arising around quarter past eleven or so yesterday morning; the evil mother fucking neighbors across from me, began their 'BING BANG BONG BOOMING' of doors; over, and over, and over again; FORT PIERCE POLICE DEPARTMENT, AND NARCOTICS DIVISION! I was going to go out later on in the afternoon, but it was as though the forces of Misses 1969 Marola, and her 'MUST HAVE ME DO THE SCHOOL PLAY' ON MEMORIAL DAY, stuff all over again; that put me on some perfect cosmic schedule, just as it did back then, to be on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, at a perfectly timed minute and second, so as to witness and experience something; and this time, it was again, all done for me to be someplace, and witness another awesome something; and so let me now get to all of that. First I spoke to my Resident Manager, after returning from my errands, and not initially. All I did was take out my trash and throw it down the chute on my floor near the elevators, even my mail was not checked and received by me, until I returned back to the building. I wanted to get up to the HARVEST, and see my old pal, JASPER. I was not going to rest, until I told him a very horrible thing that Mikey had accused him of, with no evidence or real good reason whatsoever, and we will not get into it all, although, the local television reporters may know just exactly what is being talked about here right now on this blog. I never agreed with him about this, and did not like it when he did all that trash talking, but only after he totally screwed me over and vanished, was I boiling mad, and decided a few days ago that indeed, I would retaliate and tell Jasper how he has been trash talking his reputation all over town, and he has, and then Jasper told me, he is aware that someone in fact was spreading that around, and he was quite appreciative to learn that it was Mikey. I only rat out rats that deserve it. Only if you hurt me will I rat you out on something, really hurt me, and for no good dam ass reason. If I see something that is none of my business, I walk on, and that is that. I have seen and witnessed enough things in my life to write a billion essays on it, but again, I stress that I am not a rat. A rat does this. I do not really tattle-tail. I just feel that when someone does me real friggin' wrong, then they deserve a little payback, and if most people are honest with themselves, they will tell me they agree with me. Now I mean this people, be sitting down for what I'll tell you next, L-4.

I did not purchase one single item at the Harvest Store back yesterday, Monday, and I may have indeed needed a few snacks, some cookies and crackers and stuff that normally would cost 30 bucks, that you can get for about 5 bucks there, just because the stuff may be a month past expiration dates. 4:5, the stuff is fresh and good, so risking 5 dollars and usually coming up a winner, does not bother me at all. I mean they sell limeade and lemonade for 5-9 bucks for 6 gallons or 12 half-gallon cartons. It is not always in the cooler, many times just apple juice or orange juice is there, and I am only a grape juice and lime and lemon drinker. Still, I only had telling Jasper what I told him, on my mind, and I did; and things seemed to be getting better on the day until I got down the mother freaking road about 2 blocks. There would never be a real need for a dam cop or a dam law, if everyone had my conscience, and upbringing; and try as I might not to brag; I am a gentleman when I am outside my door. I don't curse or rarely, and never around women and children; and I watch my manners, and act refined. I don't put on airs or the dog, or any of that. I don't go 'dahhling', and use nine syllable words or try showing off or bragging about my Huntington family. Nobody knows me, and I try to keep it all that way, other than for screaming out online about my life and the injustices involved, and the people involved as well, that I feel totally, are causing it all, and are totally responsible for it all. I am not all that shy on my blogs, nor am I sorry. But outside my door in the real world, I behave my freaking self. I never ever look at girls, I never ever do anything wrong or illegal. Women always bothered me all my life, not the other way around. Now that I am old and ugly, most of the time, this has lessened, praise the gods!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, I got down the road a few blocks, and my conscience started bothering me real ass fucking bad, good people. I know I shouldn't have ratted the bastard out. He really hurt me, the mother fucker. Still, is that any reason or excuse for me to be no better than him, by my behavior being rotten and shitty? The answer of course is an unequivocal NO. I still feel way more terrible and guilty than I feel compensated or relieved or avenged. I was brought up by a very good mother, praise the gods, and all though I did not believe all her religious horse shit 100%, I have come to know that there is something out there beyond any and all human reasoning, as I have experienced a lifetime of shit that proves and verifies this totally, and I could witness in any and every church on this planet!!!!!!! But it gets way way way freaking better than this, so hold onto your big ugly hat, Mister McGraw, you bumpkin! Wow what an ego bruise for him, Microsoft. Let me move on now.

Feeling about three feet tall, 25 inches less than I really am, there I was in my car, now heading away from the Harvest Store, and towards the PUBLIX GROCERY STORE in town, on Route-1 or the (Federal Highway), same thing. Mikey goes to this store and this mini-mall a lot, and banks at the bank there as well; and I know all that from back when I was helping him to do his errands, after he had just left the Lawnwood Hospital here in town; and after he was recuperating from his surgical procedure, for his hernia problems. I spotted him walking towards one of the stores that was perhaps half a dozen stores to the north of the Publix, in this very large mini-mall area. He has a walk that no one else in this world has, and is very slender and I know him from the front as well as the back like I know the back of my hands. I slowly crept up on him, as you need to drive slowly in a mini-mall anyway, and I managed to get ahead of him and look both ways before making a right turn to head closer to a parking area for the Publix Customers, but I looked back with my eyes in the rear view mirror, and get ready folks, and this is gospel truth so help me, I swear this under penalty of libel, perjury, slander, and any criminal maliciousness whatsoever, as well as on the Almighty Goddess Herself, SSJKK, (Sarah-Stacey Krassle), Queen of the Astral Plane. Not only was it Mikey, but he colored his hair, and changed the style of it. It is totally yellow blond, and he has totally different eyeglasses as well. I have known this mid sixtyish man for the entire time I have lived down here in Florida, as he always was working the front desk of the HARVEST, and I went there for help when I first got into town, on advice from the landlady of the RV-PARK, the Manatee RV Park, also on Route-1, in the White City section of town, at the opposite corner from where the Harvest place is, as they are up in the north-west, and White City is down in the south-east corner of this large 7 mile square town area of nearly 50 square miles. This man would never under any ordinary circumstances, ever do anything one tenth as absurd as dying his hair bright yellow, altering his appearance entirely, and yes, even his style of dress was day and night difference, from what I knew all that time that I knew this man. Dick Wolf and Donald Trump, and all their pals could not say it better, and they did say it over and over, right there on the television broadcast, during many airings of the greatest law show ever, surpassing even the once all time great PERRY MASON, and I quote them, with their permission hopefully; “YOU JUST CAN'T MAKE THIS KIND OF STUFF UP”. Then again, you cannot make up 1969, 1974, 1980, and shall I really bother to go on, ladies and gentlemen? Anyone able to make up something even close to MORIANITY, well, I would bow down to them as I would the freaking Almighty. So boweth not down to me folks, as I am not worthy. I did not make any of this up, nor would I have one thousandth of the sufficient amount of talent to indeed do so, and when I'm accused of this; it is quite a boost to my little tiny nobody worthless ego!

Before I take us still onward, I will tell you what GAGA kitty and I discussed, two little 'Q&A' deals, that you may be interested in hearing about.

Why is this sudden super super super DEATH-SIEGE, on me, beginning on Tuesday, May the fourteenth, that has as of now, brought me 5 super botbar days out of the last seven days and bringing me now to a major monster 40% Magnetic Percentage Botbar (MPB)?

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, AND NO PIANO SONGS, PCN-981.

Why did the Almighty SSJKK show me her demise in a parallel universe, right before this middle May 2013 death period in my life, and tell me that she is not planning to leave her great city that much longer to come here?

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, AND NO PIANO SONGS, PCN-352.

I don't fucking dare list the shit, people; but you should know a lot of these match list items, and you can figure some more out on your own, and always feel free to comment and tell me some new ones. I will not act all ignorant and stupid like I did last time someone posted a video on my blog. Nobody ever tells me shit, and I do not know that peeps do this online. I am fucking old YO, and dumb as fucking ass hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HAVE PITY ON ME! God Almighty, that is more than dirt fucking bag Jane F. is ever going to, after wrecking my life 20 years ago, at the fucking Atlanta, Georgia, USA Ballpark that horrible monster ass night with that zoom in ones display, and now it is again, mother fucking page eleven of eleven, so let me try and compensate here, please. TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555, PUSS 555555555, CRIMES 555555555555555555555555, DIVIDED CRY 5555555555; IS EQUAL TO WHO FUCKING BUNT-TAPPING CARES. LET ME LOOK AT THESE NICE, NO, NOT ONES, BUT FIVES; DO YOU SEE THE POWER OF THE WOMO ENEMY, AND THEIR DIRT BAG FUCKING ETTOS YET, BELIEVERS?????????????? They made me type, 'those lovely ones' that is a MIND-HACK, and it is done with real POWER, Patty Jane Greatnecks!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So aim those magical bullets at me at your wonderful bully bar, Robert, the old Morianity-Foundation Website, displayed a total proof of your transdimensional abilities in many various ways, on that October day back in filthy OHM-6! I tried putting a comma, after the green word 'ME' and it hacked out a lot of stuff, so I hit the undo last thing key, and cannot place a comma where it needs to go. This is the power of daring to talk about crossing over the Amtrak or the Chappaquiddick Bridge, good believers.

MAGNESONIC, I NEED MAJOR HELP AND MAJOR STRIKES AGAINST MY ENEMIES, ALL ORDERS, ALL TECKS, ALL COMMANDS, DO IT, DO NOT SPARE THESE DIRT BAGS, SO EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND S——-T——-O——-P! I have decided to tell lots of other things at a later time, pillow talking daddy of Star Trek-74. E/T!

MORIANITY PART 5 CONTINUES FOLKS!!!!!!!!!

MAGNESONIC, I NEED MAJOR HELP AND MAJOR STRIKES AGAINST MY ENEMIES, ALL ORDERS, ALL TECKS, ALL COMMANDS, DO IT, DO NOT SPARE THESE DIRT BAGS, SO EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND S——-T——-O——-P! I have decided to tell lots of other things at a later time, pillow talking daddy of Star Trek-74. E/T!12:34 PM-EDST, 20 MAY, 2013

FORT PIERCE POLICE AND PUBLIC HOUSING AUTHORITY

MY DIRT BAG CRIMINAL THUG NEIGHBORS BEGAN PERSECUTING AND HARASSING ME AROUND QUARTER SHY OF NOON GIVE OR TAKE, IT IS ABOUT AN HOUR NOW OF CONTINUAL IN AND OUT BANGING OF THEIR FUCKING DOOR.

I HAVE CIVIL AND HUMAN RIGHTS, AND THIS IS A VIOLATION OF THOSE RIGHTS, WHEN I HAVE LEGITIMATELY COMPLAINED AND HAVE ONLY BEEN TOLD I CAN GET A MEDICAL NOTE AND THEY WILL LET ME MOVE, WHY SHOULD I BE THE ONE FORCED TO MOVE, FORT PIERCE POLICE, WHEN I AM NOT THE ONE DAMAGING PROPERTY, GOING IN AND OUT 24 HOURS A DAY CONTINUALLY, AN OBVIOUS DRUG RELATED ACTIVITY, WHY?

This all is a persecution that is part of something going on fucking now for cunt lapping 27 years, and has to do with causing an INTENTIONAL PARALLEL OF EVENT, between myself, and WALL STREET, as the powerful WORLD OWNERS or the (WOMO), totally know, that HURTING ME = AN ENDLESS UPSWINGING DOW JONES.

WORLD COURT AT THE HAGUE, you and all of the world authorities are pathetic and impotent. If this was not the case, you would INVESTIGATE MY HELL AND DO YOUR DAM FUCKING JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, it is quite obvious that the mother, the daughter, abnd the electron designer, are all one and the same reality, inside this huge horrendous mother fucking video-game of the LAWNMOWER MAN. I don't need to guess the name of any guests, I know them, it is LAWNMOWER MAN ONE, and LAWNMOWER MAN TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**MORIANITY PART FIVE**

THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.
CHAPTER 00089, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
SLAM-SLAM-BOOM-BANG-BONG. These jerk offs, are screaming and slamming doors tonight; what else is mother fucking new? This has not been a good day, sort of holding BOTBUR, meaning unofficial BOTBAR and unless something can perk me up before daylight starts to put Mizz Delaney into dream-land, this will close out as a 4:5 BOTBAR, with FRIDAY as the day in-between that is keeping shit from fucking being a total BOTBAR-5-STRING, YO YO YO!!!!!

If the doors keep slamming, I will just keep telling the office until they get tired of my complaints, come Monday, as she keeps insisting that between 10 and midnight, noise must slow down and stop, and this is not the case with these mother fucking thugs of washed hands, family friends, and prison inmate collect calls that somebody anticipated like space platforms and ship building and Humpback whales, long before reality caught up with itself, and thought I was going to do another tune with another verifiable introduction, or even a harmony track, after-all, how about a nice Halloween song, would this not be an appropriate thing for a dude whose copyrights have been officially registered on October 31, on three separate mother fucking years; maybe this is how the dirty underwear of marriages and sleep walk body snatchers from the past, is all about? Still, there must be a lot more to it all, as why else would I be the one so totally concentrated on, by this INCREDIBLE FUCKING STAR FAMILY??? Jesus fucking Christ Almighty, BREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Al Jolson, hold onto your dick eating hat, old buddy!
First, this day began getting bad not all that long after I was up, and I slept in late until a bit past noon. It may have been an hour and a half past, somewhere give or take; believers. In any event, extremely weird fucking outlandish shit is going on, and you are the only few in this part of the localized fifth dimension, who believe me, partially at least, as the entire rest of humanity has either betrayed me, taken some kind of collective payoff; or in some unknown other way; been ETOSS influenced and controlled, or dominated; to believe in the endless 'GWPOS' lies of 1994, giant cops and giant visiting sleep-walking non-Russell Goddesses, and other such unexplainable esoteric phenomena, all notwithstanding, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!! You need not know all of the bullshit, as it will weaken my position, empire against empire, FREE verses FEE; for those few who just may remember, huh daut? I know you do, and you do not fool me for a second, lovely BEG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOLF-WOLF, did it all not start, A—–L—–L, right after first speaking to the great CAMDEN COUNTY PROSECUTOR PEEPS, ON THE FIFTH DAY IN DECEMBER OF 1989, WHAAA? Gimme a bweak somebody, or at least you Elmer fucking cunt chewing Fwudd Waaaaaaabit. This is totally wedikolus, MACK KAITER, and cousin Newsman Lester Nonupline, WEEEEEEEEEE, BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Jesus fucking cunt lapping god almighty, for shit stinking sake, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This bites and chews worse than Mizz Delaney of May and June in 1969, retarded ice cream shops and all, huh old dude pal Brad? Yeah I'm bad, but also glad and sad, and all sorts of other fucking horse shit that does not right this minute, require all sorts of dam ass fucking explanations, Captain Suzanne Kirkwhales!!!!!!!! Moving this right along now at five past fucking midnight, things are worse for me than they have been now since back in the days when David Roth and myself, drove over to Camden City in Jersey, to see Prosecutor ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, and that piece of crap Abbey Carmichael pop-back, Mizz dick licking Donna Spinosi, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Prick Dick Wilson came along later on, after Cuzz Donnie placed a little cabbage somewhere. Everyone in Jersey is in a lot of pockets, and all of it connects into great lovely Washington-13-non-alternating-current, WHAAAAAAA; time now if you want, Mike McNulty (MMCN)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BANG, BOOM, SLAM, at 12:09 AM, PUBLIC HOUSING FUCKING CUNT AUTHORITY OF FLORIDA, AND FORT PIERCE, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho folks, let me stop stripping the gears to all October five time traveling hell, and move on from a lot more than my dream memories; but to a greater bunch of us who have all had the BITE PUT ON US, LIKE WOW, T.D. STACEY KRASSLE!!!!! My god dam fucking mom was a little nosy, as are all wives; but seeing a marriage license of your spouse, divorced or not, fall out of a gym type bag filled with dirty underwear; along with a large GUN, oh yes; and whether he had the carry-license or not, I have a powerful reason to believe I could blog for 300 years, and only tell a smattering of just why he felt the need to indeed, have this big old ugly gun in the first place, back in mother fucking January of 1974, so Shidaleedee, and sing it with me, Bread and If, WEEEEEEE!!

I know a lot about somnambulism and sleep walkers. I have two beautiful special daughters by one, and my mom was one, for the final 26 months of her pathetic fucked up life; of the PROJECT BLUEBOOKERS CLUB, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!! Give me a dam break, shall I just list off the top of my head, a few tiny things that real fucking MORIANS can dot-connect in seconds, and do BELIEVE? Tom Reale acting like WW-3 had just begun when I got off the jitney bus in Ventnor on 5 July of 1970, after returning from the Atlantic City fireworks show. Misses Marola forcing me to do that school play, a year and a month earlier, on Memorial Day; back then it always fell on 31 May, and that was in 'Friendly-Shops' not ice cream 'meanings of life tapes' in 1969; oh great wise chip swami of the cosmic ages, WEEEEEEEEEE, Chester. Yeah, we both know who you are, but do you know who TAWF is? Ask PP; he has seen enough to be a believer 99 times over, but insists on remaining a dues paying, card carrying member, of both the Missourians Club, and the GWPOS CLUB, WOW, SSJKK, I BEG THEE! Let us move this right along before lots of great gears all grind up and breakdown, and force me to wash my hands and keep a lot cleaner than the Suffolk County know-it-all, Mister Bacon; who is as I hear tell it, quite dirty again; and has his whittle mommy pwetty upset, wabbit; Whaaaaaaaa. Dope is for dopes, and texting and driving is the dumber part here, of 'dumb and dumber'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mike, it's time, YO. Folks, Linda-Lee Norman Horn and David Bacon, along with the great Darius Evans, and a lot more, are all part of the same type of Astral-Plane situation, that the human club called the Illuminati, mirror images the great and powerful non-oz condition-interaction, known as the LAMBRIGG CULT OF THE TECK BAY, IN THE PROVINCE OF OLYMPIA, ON THE ASTRAL-PLANE. Linda-Lee told me, at the great Fort Pierce Harvest, at the Happy & Healthy intersection, of Walgreen 25th and Orange, in northwest Fort Pierce, Florida; back in early twenty-eleven somewhere, to go to the 'parent-child connection meetings', held there at quitting time, as back then, this was at one in the afternoon, and I was walking out the door to go a few blocks to the north, over into the hood at Twenty-Sixth Street and Avenue E; where I shared a walled sectioned off duplex home, managed by two of the fucking cunt lapping weirdest and strangest peeps, that I ever came to know, since 1969, and my encounter under the Central Pier; that gave true meaning to the famous song “Under The Boardwalk”, and the powerful later to be known in future times, “Summer Of Love”, not the song that PP wrote, and yes, he told me to share half of the song legally, in exchange for all the money that I lost in that crumby ass fucking music venture that started out as the 1998 Songshop, and ended up shortly thereafter as the great Permission Barrier book predicted, Studio Park Records. Yes, but returning again to the mysterious Misses Linda-Lee Norman Horn, and not Lena Horn, but then Lenny Briscoe, oh Jesus; you have to see why this cannot ever work the way that you would like it to, Mizz Terry Egg Harbor, so Dawn-Marie, and Ann King; can smirk all day and night long for fucking eternity, for all I give a rats ass prick; every time we got neat the city detention center, thinking, “We know something you don't know”, and then why not drive on to the nearest sand box or maybe a big ass play pen, crissake, YO? Oh yes, Dave Bacon, she insisted I go to these meetings and tell the big secret of 'not the hammer' and she was more persistent every week that Eric was due to come in to conduct the class, until I finally went, and even told him privately, what had happened to me back in both 1969, and in 2008. Talk about demonic possession, or other old world terms and expressions. She would not quit until I did this. Then when it all went totally fucking south of all borders, I asked her why she did this and she insisted GOD told her to, and I wanted to hear a little more, and she had no more to tell; and gave me the very same long stare empty face look, that my mom would get, when she was sleep walking after that horrible attack on the day after 1997 Christmas fucking day. The same thing that was inside of David, Darius' pal back in 2011; telling me to wash my hands for no reason whatsoever, and causing me to not be able to miss hearing while we all were outside on a break, and he was talking to the lovely teen cashier, that was working there back then; and I'll quote, “I know everyone in Suffolk County”. We are talking about Long Island, New York, folks, and right there where I was forced to suffer through lots of misery, huh Aunt Ruth Huntington, and 'Uncle Nebyachts', Heinz Gottwald Hilehitler. This is just a surface scratch. Taking this and multiplying it all, about 50 fucking ass times; and the entire story comes out clear and true, Copyright Office; so be advised, please; 29 years or so ago, and yes; it is time, MMCN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't even try and tell me this entire thing for 13,000 years is all up in my head, don't EVEN FUCKING T—R—Y it folks, please, please; and fucking pretty ass PLEASE, with all the sugar and cupcakes and ice cream in the state of fucking Missouri! TANKS, & W—O—W! SHEEEEEEIT, cut me a break there for old times sake, in 1985; OK MARGIE LEO, YO????????????????????????????

My father and I both were involved with the Callio clan all right, JUST AS ALL THE FUCKING FAKE PATTY JANE PSYCHICS SAID, and if they all are fake, there is a network with many of them, that helps them share shit; and they know a ton of mother fucking secrets. There is a way I can prove that Dirtbag Trump Network, and his pals, know of this, use this; and helped to feed those same dirt bags over in England, that made the news a while back. I am just the main one on the list that was listened to, and then messed with, but in my case; they all knew better than to ever tell the story, as Goddess Almighty would tear the entire world to shreds, if this ever came out, in a way that is believable; and not on the blog of a maniac nutcase, who escaped the Dave & Darius Ripoff Sikeward of Harvested Musicians of the Washed Up Society!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where are you when I need you, Howard Solomon, and Doogie Howser????????? Then she tells me the other day, that she is going to stay a lot more in her great city. Well, you got me stuck here girl, so if you do not stay here, then you better take me with you. I think playing your games now for 13,000 years, is long enough, lovely BROWN-EYED-GIRL; with or without the bite bushes. Gee, can it all be so dam real, and totally connected up? Jeese Louise, Comcast Hangten; like freaking super ass WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes sir, when the mighty MICROSOFT world owners, updated my PC a couple days back, it totally fucked up my internet connection. It took a while to get some programs to finally let me back in. I should not have to go through this persecution, but then, what part of this 60 year current-ME nightmare, SHOULD I BE GOING THROUGH; if you wish to be technical about this mother fucking horse shit, YO?????

When the FUCKING WOMO-MILITUFORCE broke my remote control, they scored huge gains as they always do, when they FUCKING CUNT LAPPING DAMAGE MY PROPERTY!!!!!! This has not been going on since my blogs started. Blogging onto the interconnected networking computer system, is just the tail end of my MORIANITY MOTHER FUCKING TALE OF WOE AND MISERY, GOOD FOLKS. This shit all began on a precise fucking cunt eating date, and that fucking date is, no matter how cock licking tired you all must be now of seeing it in print on these blogs so often, truth is truth; and that DATE IS, 15 AUGUST, IN 1986, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The remote control replacement was eighteen mother fucking dollars, that I do not have to spare; the rotten mother fucking bastard, bottom feeding, sewer sipping, toilet seat rockers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is what will destroy me, with a mother fucking DOW JONES AT ENDLESS CONTINUAL ALL TIME RECORD HIGHS. I used to call these NIGHTMARE FUCKING ASS PERIODS, AND RIGHTFULLY SO; 'BALL CRIME DEAD CHORD CRYS'!!!!! IT FUCKING RHYMES, IT IS FUCKING TRUE, AND IT FUCKING CHEWS A TIGERS WANG, AT LIGHT VELOCITY, FUCKING ASS SQUARED!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Fuck all of this twisted ass disease. Kiss my 90% honky-ass, YO! I will dial 911 if these doors do not stop mother fucking slamming, as it is quarter past cunt sucking one in the dam morning, FORT PIERCE, POLICE. HAY, MAYBE I WILL SEND THEM AN E-MAIL ATTACHMENT OF THE BLOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My god dam dad told me shit in his sleep that blew me away in January of 1974, even though most of it went over my head and made no sense at the time, just like being down on the mother fucking Black Horse Pike with no Apocalypse or portents of biblical prophecy; at the world renown JULIA'S Psychic Readings Shop, on the bay. I now know she thinks of home a lot, and another bay, a place far away; and yet while we sleep, I guess the great SSJKK cares. After-all, she claims this, in those wonderful song lyrics, and again; this is not really my song, it is HER song in 1980; and she did sing it to me, and this was all gearing up, way back then; with or without any miscarriages, or highways that do not belong near Robin Hill Apartments; in this part of localized hyperspace. No Dorothy, I have no intention of surrendering. I will leave for fucking Mexico as soon as the summer is over, and the weather is just perfect; not wintry yet, not blistery hot; and no major storms around. FUCK-U, WFMU! I WILL DIAL 911, AND PRESS CHARGES IF THESE DOORS KEEP GOING PAST TWO. I WILL GIVE THEM EVERY CHANCE TO STOP BEING TOTAL MOTHER FUCKING JERK OFFS, BEFORE I PRESS CHARGES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

55555555555555555555555555555555555555555, for page eleven of eleven, this will compensate as well as cunt phlegm rape, time again for you, Mike McNulty, old buddy!!!

Do I believe that the great Julia White, the top Lieutenant of the Viqueen Gang, belonging to the Almighty Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, is indeed the identity of Paula King, daughter of John King and distant relative of Ann King's grandfather? No and yes. This is one of them. I believe that another one is Melanie, the one and only. This is what they or She did to your soul and your song, but that is just in the opinion of one of your old fans, Mel. I have nothing that will stand up in any court, and if I did, I would find myself blown to bits by a great warship out on the dam Indian River, along with Tim and his friend the Vice President, in some altered Ozville. I believe Monica and Melanie and Paula, are only three. There are about 50 drivers licenses in the continental United States, and 50 real lives are being lived, well; sort of lived, like off and on, whenever the systems turn on or off, or as my old pal the Congressman put it back in 1975 so perfectly, and so often; “WHATEVER”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do I believe that MDE and the endless mystery of the TRINIDAD or TRINITY depending on how far north or south you may be living; is now officially explained? Well, I want real badly to say my favorite spiel right about now, and go, “You bet your cute cornfield ass, lovely Annie Costner”, only in good conscience; we will keep the Trinity a real mystery, even FROM MORIANITY, until and unless; this mere mortal eventually has sufficient evidence to prove mom and kid are Kent and soup. Oh well, I have more than said enough to get the dirty underwear tempers flaring and raging. If I know my wonderful SSJKK, I will get the fucking shit kicked out of me soon when I drop out of this reality for a while, so wish me lots of lick, believers. I do not ever wish to anger Jehovah. I love her more than life, and a trillion anythings all combined together; but the gods help me, as I am totally curious and there is no turning back. Not after these fucking 60 years of this wild guessing names, and guesting games, WEEEEEEEEEE, BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Make that WOW!

I have really kicked fucking ass during these 5 days of hell now peeps and believers, YO, in my SYSTEMS-ROULETTE. I made 13 units today, and this was a bad day, three games, all winning games. Yesterday I made one and a half units, and the four days prior to that, I eeked out an average of one unit each day, a nice average 6-day unit profit of at least +3 units per day in the past 6 days of mostly major nasty ass HELL, nearly two grand on the black gaming 100 dollar playing level, YO, AHA-AHA-AHA, Mister McNulty!!!!! Also, I spoke with my cat, GAGA, or Gawky Gaukauk, I have shortened it after all this time, and first remembered him in 1980 until later, as in the STAR TREK movie called GENERATIONS, came to stop seeing things in 3-D, a very limited way to live human life, but I'll admit, simpler. It seems he and I went back to '77 when he cut me into little tiny pieces at his Teck Bay Mystery School, and then there was another time 5 years before that, when I followed my own daughter into her home and witnessed the unbloggable. Well, let us get into a little GAGA-Q&A, whatcha say folks?

WHY IS MY 'YBCO' SONG SUCH A MONUMENTAL PROBLEM, NOT BEING ABLE TO MAKE THE VIDEO, OR POST IT, AND ALL OF THE TROUBLE IT HAS CAUSED, IN MY FUCKING LIFE FOR 14 MONTHS OR SO NOW, YYYYYYYYY, JIMMY YYYYY, OH I MEAN KITTY, THIS IS 30 YEARS UP IN THE FUTURE, GAGA??????????????????????
MEOW-MEOW, WHAAAAAA, PCN-927. NEED I REALLY GIVE SOME OF THE POWERFUL FUCKING MATCH LIST ITEMS?
WHY DID I GET THAT HORRENDOUS FUCKING DEATH SIEGE JUST SHY OF 8 AT NIGHT ON THE 16TH, ON MY THIRD FUCKING ASS BOTBAR HELL DAY, GAGA???
MEOW-MEOW, WHAAAAAA, PCN-770. AGAIN, DO I REALLY NEED TO GIVE YOU THE FUCKING LIST, GREAT PAULAGA??
DO WE FUCKING NEED A 'W—O—W'?

AND YES PEOPLE, 990 WAS THE PCN GIVEN WHEN I ASKED WHY THE SECOND BOTBAR STRUCK ME SO HARD ON THE FIFTEENTH FUCKING DAY OF MAY. I HAVE TO SHUT UP OR MY KID WILL HAVE MY HEAD ON TWO PIKES, THE WHITE HORSE AND THE BLACK HORSE WILL RIDE, DEMI MOORE AND FATHER MARREL. HOLLYWOOD (THE EW) KNOWS IT ALL, WHO IS KIDDING WHO? MADE IN HEAVEN VANISHES, INTO THE TURNERSVILLE PATHMARKS, OF AUGUST 2, IN 1996? IT IS TIME FOR YOU AGAIN, MMCN!!!!! But this is not the biggie, sir Ziggy; not by a mother fucking super ass long-shot, Mister Perry Louigee WHITE. I asked my GAGA kitty out of the 81 PCN'S, which one best describes the connection to my oldest daughter and me, and I swear to the gods of the Astral-Plane, I received the number of PCN-954, and I only have five match-list-items for that number, and I WILL PRINT THEM, THE GODS HELP ME IN MY SLEEP SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY ARE AS FOLLOWS:
(HALLOWEEN) (OCTOBER FIVE TWO THOUSAND EIGHT) (WAYNE MOHR) (DIANE ROSS) (GUATEMALA) I have said way more than enough, I talk too dam ass much, good people, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now, there are recent things told on blogs, that I want front and center. No need to have to click all around, so read on. If you click the past few blogs, other stuff will be there, but this is more necessary, for right now, YO. Have a nice day, while I fucking roast in a German Kessle pot of boiling broiling HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HUGE ENDLESS STOCK MARKET RALLY CONTINUES,
JUST EXACTLY AS I SAID THAT IT WOULD, DAY AFTER DAY, WEEK AFTER WEEK; AS 'THEY' PUT ME THROUGH TOTAL MOTHER FUCKING HELL LAST WEEK, AND GAINED ANOTHER 3 HUNDRED POINTS AS A RESULT!!

MORIANITY PART FIVE:

HERE IS MY PROOF TO JUST A FEW TINY MOTHER FUCKING THINGS, AND I HAVE NOT EVEN STARTED TO PASTE IN MY LIFE. IT WOULD TAKE A MUCH GREATER COMPUTER, WITH PETA BYTES OF MEMORY AND PROCESSING SPEED ON PAR WITH THAT OF THOSE IN FORT MEADE, MARYLAND AT THE NATIONAL SECURITY OR 'NO SUCH' (AGENCY)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RED ALERT—-RED ALERT—- !!!
RED ALERT—-RED ALERT—- !!!

55555555555555555555555555555555555555

I TOOK ANOTHER HUGE FUCKING ATTACK AND ASSAULT, FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, MIAMI AND JACKSONVILLE FIELD FUCKING OFFICE, AND FLORIDA STATE POLICE, AND LOCAL PEEDEE. IT ALL STARTED AT SHY OF EIGHT THIS MOTHER FUCKING EVENING. HUGE HORRIBLE ILLEGAL MOTHER FUCKING JET CHEMTRAILS ALL OVER THIS AREA POPPED UP OUT OF NOWHERE, THEN A HUGE COMPUTER ATTACK LATTISAW JACK HACK, ALSO STRUCK, WHILE TRYING TO WORK THE MACHINE. MICROSUCKS IN LEAGUE WITH WOMO, MADE THE SYSTEM TURN ON, AT 8 ON THE NOSE, WITH THEIR UPDATES CRAP. THEN I LOOKED OUT OF MY WINDOW, WHILE GETTING UP AND COMING OVER HERE TO THE COMPUTER; AND EVEN THOUGH THE SUN HAD SET, BRIGHT HUGE LIT UP DAYTIME AREAS WERE ALL OVER THE BUILDING ABOVE ME, AS UP THERE, IT IS NOT SUNSET TIME YET. IF I HAD A VIDEO FUCKING SYSTEM AND KNEW HOW TO MOTHER FUCKING OPERATE IT LIKE OTHER FOLKS DO, I WOULD HAVE HAD A VIRAL MOTHER FUCKING VIDEO, OR REALLY, NO I WOULD NOT, AS YOUTUBE, IN LEAGUE WITH GOOGLE-MICROSUCKS, HAS A BLOCKADE ON MY STUFF. ANYONE CAN SEE IT. THERE IS A HUGE QUESTION MARK AFTER THE VIEW COUNT ON MY NIGHTMARE FUCKING SONG? THE ACTUAL COUNT SHOULD READ SEVENTEEN (17) VIEWS, WITH NO QUESTION MARK. ALL OTHER VIEWS ARE ME WATCHING MY OWN STUFF, AND MY TRYING TO LINK UP OR SHARE THE VIDEO WITH BLOG SITES, & THEY SHOULD HAVE A WAY TO FILTER THE MOTHER FUCKING COUNTER WHEN IT IS THE COMPUTER THAT UPLOADED THE VIDEO, THAT HAS CLICKED TO VIEW IT, NOT COUNTING IT. THEN THEY ADD A LOT OF SYMBOLS LIKE PLUSSES AND QUESTION MARKS, & THIS ENTIRE THING IS A VIOLATION OF MY MOTHER FUCKING CUNT EATING CIVIL RIGHTS, AND IS JUST FOR THE RICH PEOPLE, AS ARE ALL THINGS, FROM FUCKING CHEATED ASS WALL STREET, ALL THE WAY DOWN TO MAIN STREET! I AM SO DISAPPOINTED BY MY PRESDIDENT, FORGETTING WHERE HE STARTED, AND THE EXPERIMENTS, AND THINGS IF I GO ON ABOUT, I WOULD HAVE THE FUCKING SECRET ASS SERVICE AT THE DOOR IN AN HOUR. I AM SO SO HURT, SIR. I EXPECT THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOR FROM MY ROTTEN DAUGHTER, BUT DID NOT FROM YOU, KIND SIR. BLESS YOU ANYWAY, SIR! BRUCE PENNOCK SAID IT ALL, BACK EARLY IN THE SEVENTIES. NONE OF US ARE PERFECT, MERE MORTALS AND HUMANS.

Then comes the big problem. When I crashed last fucking night, I was with the Almighty in many forms, and at the end, after lots of enjoyable pleasurable interactions, she tells me she is not going to keep leaving her great city, and that she is going to stay there a lot more. Whatever the shit that is supposed to mean, right my believers-Morians. Oh well, 'ours is not to reason why, Sir Aristede Shadows of 1897, but to do and die', right, co fellow musician/writer of tunes, and Ode to the lovely Laura Parker, of the non studio Parkers of Pedersenville. You can shove those big stupid ass hats, PP, WHERE THE DAM ASS SUN DON'T SHINE, YO!!

MORIANITY PART FIVE
CONTINUES RIGHT ALONG, KIND LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.

Posting, or trying to, at 9:11 PM, on this night of SUPER MOTHER FUCKING BOTBAR TIMES THREE, AND SUPER HIGH CALLIOTAMMIC ASSAULT SIEGE; and lots of pussy fucking action, will be coming my way, when I am out on some local cunt chewing errands, the next couple of days, and if I am messed with; I am holding the AG, and the Florida State Police, and CJS responsible; for disbelieving me, and not caring enough to help look after a person, being cock sucking viciously fucking ass persecuted, for 3 solid cunt eating asshole decades now, or more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MY ''MPB'' IS NOT ACCEPTABLE, AND ALL OF THOSE RESPONSIBLE, WILL PAY IN THEIR FUCKING BLOOD, I PROMISE YOU TAHREN GANDI, AND OTHER BOXERS, AND REALTORS, AND WELL; WHATEVER, 'OLD SHIPYARD PAL' OF FUCKING CUNT EATING 1975, WITH ALL THE DAM ASS RED MOTHER FUCKING LEAVES ON THE FUCKING GROUND.

OK believers, 1,2,3, possibly 4 of you, here is what is going on, and you will definitely get a mind blow after you hear what I now tell you. I swear it is the truth, and I also swear that it is over simplified by a factor of about nine billion or so, otherwise, I would be posting this up around the year of 2177 or so, and would defeat the purpose, as lovely 'niece' DMK would say to me constantly, back in 2008 and 2009. By the way, I never started that crap with her, not about the school in Egg Harbor City, or me being her dam uncle. They all knew about me, and all of this. I was the one who knew jack about it all, back when I started to blog in 2006, and 2007. If anyone needs proof; you have a lot of reading material to emmereffing cover.

First off on this day's blog, for the past month now since the middle of April, my Channel 12 TV News APP is hacked up, and this is where you see the photos on my blogs at the Jupiter Inlet, some miles to my south, unless I pretend it is 1975 again and nobody had a million bugs all over the place. Then I could get there in a few minutes, and not be discovered moving any diner rotisseries or other such things as speaking to birds and animals, and being in a wild eternal relationship with lovely ISIS, and a hell of a lot more.

They totally have hacked into my system, as they all know what computers we use. There is no way I can track the movement of the third part of MIDISISCYLLA. It is all frozen and hacked, and shows lightning positions that are no where even close to where she is in reality and real time. Most of it shows the same old frozen spots. This is a violation of course of my civil rights, but who can stop it, I am being given the privilege of using these APP programs, and if I don't like it, what am I going to do about it? Also, you want to know why the DOW will be going up one to two hundred points every single week this year, and endlessly from now on, as it really is not complex at all? It is because unlike in times past, every possible person in authority that could potentially help me, is all in the pockets totally and 100% completely, of the powerful city of Washington, DOC-13. Now why did New York City, and Washington, become the two targets of 911? You may think this is so easy, without knowing a tenth of the basic truth behind what all of this terrorism is really all about, and how it all connects two times, once in 1967 AD, and the other time around 3000 years before that one. Don't expect me to start even going here on this blog, as I am not in any mother trucking, hunt trapping, bunt tapping, rock chucking mood; folks, sorry! Every single person on this planet is being stopped from helping me in my fight against Apollo-Lucifer, even the church themselves. The reasons cannot be explained. They go beyond 1000 times wilder than all the stuff you ever saw on any of the most far out television shows and movies and documentaries, any and all of it; and that's a dam promise, believers. Dan Brown knew a little bit about this, and was able to tell a little as well, but if he had ever tried to tell the real stuff, people would be saying to me after I mention his name, Dan Who? None of you have the smallest dam clue about anything, and it makes me want to cry like a dam ass baby for hours. I told you my rotten kid would beat me up when I fell asleep, and she outdid my wildest worries and nightmare fantasies, folks. She along with close cuzz Leticia T. and distant cuzz Dawn-Marie K. all three let me have the most brutal attack I ever experienced, right near the Walter Bar across from the Bellevue Avenue Hammonton, New Jersey WAWA Convenience Store. I found myself asleep and instantly awake in bright daylight, on the street right near the bar there. I began to walk towards where they used to have me kidnapped at Caruso's home at 831 13th Street, and before I got thirty yards, Dawn grabbed my left shoulder very hard, swung me around, and kicked me in the stomach so hard the wind went out of me and I dropped to my knees. Instantly, Leticia clocked me with one of her locally famous left hooks, in that part of Jersey; she is as strong as my kid, and all of my front teeth were gone, boom, over. Blood was pouring out of my mouth and I still was not able to breathe. Then while this was fresh and up to the minute, my wonderful Doogie Howser Lab-Technician daughter of 1984, grabbed me, picked me up, and threw me over her head and out into the street and right in front of a fairly fast moving sports car that was not yet slowing down for the Route 54 stop sign ahead, and I plowed right inside through this driver's windshield. He then stopped and took me and threw me back onto the street and started kicking my ribs apart as I dropped down, and cursed at me with language way beyond what I ever heard in my entire life. Then my daughter threw a bucket of liquid light all over me, and it blinded me, and began swirling into hundreds of different shades of brilliant colors, and suddenly; I was wet and then totally dry, and totally healed up. I jumped up and thanked her, and she said to me, “The fun is only starting, real bad boy”, and then she pushed me so hard I fell down backwards and again, the three of them began pounding and pounding me. This went on for what seemed like an hour, getting totally destroyed and then rejuvenated with this magic light-liquid stuff, and then beat up to hell all over again. Finally, they all laughed and walked away from me as if nothing had happened. All three of them were wearing wild logos on their dresses as well, you could not miss them, and in this wild interaction, I could see real great without the aid or need of any eyeglasses. The color was bright orange, and dead center in the middle was an oval shape in jet black about an inch thick around, with a diameter in the oval large part being about eight to ten inches, stretching across and not going head to toe. Inside this oval, in bright green bold lettering, it said, YBCO SONG 301+. I have no idea what this is all about, and have been scared to make a move all day until recently when I decided to tell this on this blog. I woke up from this incredible experience around half past eleven, in fact on the nose I believe. The really strange part was that when I awoke, my vision was perfect for about one or two minutes, and then it suddenly was back to the normal piss poor vision that I actually have, but the clock to my right when I awoke, was bright and clear; an analogue face displaying the large hand at the 6, and the small hour hand dead in-between the eleven and the twelve. It was 11:30 AM. Some force, on top of this, will not allow me to monitor weather or other activities around the world with the normal computer tools that I should have available with this machine. Some powerful world owner and power, will not allow me to try and end this world, the way I need to, to stop this eternal hell for me in the only way I know how to. So Ron Wirtz Senior, if you're still alive, Camden County New Jersey EX Prosecutor, kind-sir, I will be taking my “AEB” very soon, to a deserted area spot placing it on a rock surface, and slamming it as hard as I can with a Walmart hammer. If I am lucky, this will all be over for ever and ever, as it should have been that day at the Eden fence, when I interfered, and begged ISIS not to end everything right then and there; and she told me, and I quote, “Because you loved Diana, I will spare the world for a while”. Well, you are Diana, and there is no such thing as time or tents, so my error caused all this, and I will fix it in the only way that I know how. None of you will even feel a thing once this is done, boom, over forever, and done! I HAVE HAD ALL I CAN STAND, POPE-YES, ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh, and Keisha Crunch-99! This is where it is going to stop, my BROTHER!

I may not be the swiftest greatest sock in the drawer, Lenny Briscoe sir, colored mine, impressed, or whatever Robert Andrews Sir and old 1975 pal; but I will say this dam much, believers. I should have known not to make that ten grand bet about my 1986 song, back in twenty-ten. I feel this is the last straw that brought TAWF to the point of killing me at all costs, so I will beat them and everyone else to the great and mighty punch, oh lovely Keisha Disney Loca! WOW, I still have a huge place where you can see where this young teen girl totally broke and destroyed my right arm in the days of my great pal, PRINCE KEM. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

I NEED YOUR HELP, MIZZ A.G., BIG TIME!!!

Florida Attorney General Pam Bondi

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I know you are doing your best to watch over me, AG Mizz Bondi, thank you. Feel free to contact the Wirtz detectives in Camden County in New Jersey, Ron Senior knows my problem is all real, but his hands are tied, I am quite sure that you know what I mean.

That was what it was before the WORST MOTHER FUCKING DAY OF 2013 CAME IN, FRIDAY, it is now Saturday Morning at 25 minutes past mother fucking midnight, electrical number three cubed, (27) April, 2013. Yesterday was a major super fucking BOTBAR DAY. Folks, I have a hell of a monster fucking story to impart to you all today, and if you're not in the mood for a really major talk with the Mountainpen here, move it over to the ''NEXT-BLOG'', I strongly urge you, but staying here will result in some pillow talking from DAD, and many other things. They were warned, and they did not care or they called my fucking bluff, or 'whatever', Congressman, but that old saying of Dawn-Marie King is quite fitting here good peeps, “It is what it is”, and again, it appears to be quite magically buried or cosmically perhaps, as this contains the built in Goddess of Babylon, both and either one of them, now or back then; my lovely wonderful and beautiful, who else; ISIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***MORIANITY PART FIVE***

A child knows that a lot of stuff can be learned by visiting my Youtube site, that will NOT be gone forever very shortly. Not after that threat I took over at the FORT PIERCE WEST LIBRARY, SOME DAYS AGO, BRO, YO!

http://www.youtube.com/paulaking2011/

THE MASTER SHEET FOR MORIANITY PART FIVE:

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My blogs
Morianity Bible For Millenium Three:
Morianity Foundation
The Epitome of Harassment – Internet Version
To Whom It May Concern From The Head Morian
RATS, TATS, & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL
About me
Gender
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Occupation
paranormal researcher
Location
Hammonton, New Jersey, United States
Introduction
Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.
Interests
I close my mind to nothing
Favorite Movies
all old movies
Favorite Music
most old music
Favorite Books
The Winds Of War, Gone With The Wind, Time Travelers From Our Future
You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?
An angry mother. Also, a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.

I DEMAND MY FUCKING PROPS.

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HELP ME PEE. YOU ARE OUT OF HERE NOW. HAPPY 16TH BIRTHDAY, and now it is 28 MAY.

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If anyone can find me PEE, it is e-bay genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!

Please remember your 74-World-Penetrater machine, my wonderful lovely PEE. Try 2 find me!

Jupiter, Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOU NOW ARE READING MORIANITY PART 5,
AND I DOUBT YOU ARE ENJOYING THIS CHAPTER NUMBER 00089. WEEEE!

YOU ARE READING MORIANITY, PART 5, GOOD FOLKS, CHAPTER NUMBER ————————————————– 00089. I do not think this blog will be enjoyed, but I needed to get shit off my chest, and it beats throwing a hand grenade. I vent by blogging, so thank you Chris Bennett, YO! WAYWINY, lovely Diana, my baby-blond Lightning Goddess???????????

BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING (GODDESS DIANA), SUBMITTED BY A CHANNEL 12 VIEWER, NOW PASTED FROM THEIR TV-APP.

MY LOVE FOR YOU IS ENDLESS, LOVELY BABY-BLOND. NOW WE ALL CAN SEE YOU, ON ONE NIGHT IN ARIZONA, THANX.

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I TOLD YOU ALL THAT THE STOCK MARKET WOULD REACH ALL TIME RECORD FUCKING HIGHS, AND IT ALREADY IS ON THE WAY TOWARDS THE 15,000 LEVEL AS I SAID IT WOULD BE. I ALSO HAVE ONE MORE THING TO SAY: THE ATTORNEY GENERAL WILL NOT ALLOW YOU BASTARDS TO MOTHER FUCKING MURDER ME, AND ALSO, READ THIS, YO:
OK people, here is what happened, and no one will believe it, and I am typing it for my own record, not so that anyone anywhere will see it and believe it. Shit all fucking mighty, if I were you and you were me; I know I wouldn't believe it, so maybe that tells you to hit that NB button now. This will get deeper than your wildest fucking fantasies, sweet adorable Alice Vera Mel, not greedy Fisher MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is nine minutes shy of one, and I will be calling 911 if this all day long party, across the hall, does not stop. IT HAS BEEN DOORS, DOORS, DOORS, SLAMMING ALL MOTHER FUCKING DAY LONG. I do not have to take this after one in the mother fucking cunt lapping dick chewing MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!! Actually, it was pretty quiet until 3 in the afternoon, then one by one, these evil vile uncouth monster slobs, begin filing in; and by quarter past four late yesterday afternoon, it was slam slam bang, and still is, at one in the cunt eating morning. I have a powerful feeling, the FUCKING CUNT POLICE WILL BE HERE, BEFORE THE SUN RISES. I WILL NOT BE ABUSED THIS WAY, AND JUST SIT FUCKING HERE AND EAT THIS FUCKING SHIT, FROM THESE FUCKING TWISTED DISEASED MONSTERS, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They know the other neighbor is away, my pal Stanley, or they would not make this much cock licking fucking noise all day and night; but if only I AM HERE, 1988 or no fucking 1988; PROPHET OF FUCKING CUNT MCDONALD'S NOTHING; THEN I'LL GET ROYALLY AND TOTALLY FUCKING ASS SCREWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But if this day was just THIS HORRIBLE MONSTER OVER ACROSS THE FUCKING HELL-HALL, WITH HIS DIRT BAG EVIL SCUM BAG PEEPS; I could take it, but unfuckingfortunately for me; this is only a part of my fucking hell on this beyond MONSTER ASS FUCKING DAY FROM HELL CUBED CUBED CUBED AND CUBED, AND BEYOND ANY NORMAL ASS FUCKING CUNT LAPPING B—O—T—B—A—R!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Far beyond seeing constant fucking CLOCK-ONES, and other constant ONES-ATTACKS from Miss Dirtbag Jane Sleazeweedsdisease BITCH, from 20 years ago, in fucking cunt eating '93; I have dropped shit, injured myself, been attacked in all possible ways including one of the worst health death ray beam assaults ever, where I was on the toilet for hours; and I was one fucked up shit head duck. I will tell you all something right now before even getting really into the heart and the meat of yesterday's beyond SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY: That fucking rotten 1983 song has caused me a mountain top and an ocean basin of trouble, that none of you out here have a clue about; as I know since no one wants to go and listen to it, and I know because the count never changes on my YT account, when I deduct my views and my link up posts. Well, I will not say none, but maybe, and I mean MAYBE, it has been hit 6-10 times, and I said and will reiterate again, MAYBE!!!!!!!!!!!! As I speak, my twelfth fucking MORTY MORTINO DEATH ANDROID attack is striking me on my mother fucking cunt eating right side, the eleventh one was when I was shortly into starting this blog, and I have no time to waste on that dirt bag prick, reporting every visitation from this shit ass buttwipe clown, YO YO YO YO!!! Here is the real fucking shit, and it happened when I crashed out for the night around just past 2 AM on Friday fucking ass morning, BRAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WAS TAKEN BACK TO PROVINCE ''WEIRD''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was done totally against my will, as it was in late June of fucking pussy huffing two thousand and dick eating eight. For those that may not have a clue, this is a condition-interaction of the Astral-Plane, so far away from the normal interactions of Province-Olympia, that no words would be usable here, it would be the distance of about a quintillion orbits around the hypersphere universe of ours while we're awake on this so-called, “Physical-Plane”. Diana was with me, and the LAMBRIGG CULT forced an unconditional surrender of myself and my air-ship, the Ricktown-1, and we went through a gigantic pipe like one of those municipal water pipes, only about 50 miles in diameter, otherwise, appearing just like one of them here in the fucking ass waking world, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Diana was allowed to remain with me for a while, then she was mysteriously made to vanish away, and they tortured me beyond anything imaginable. The agony was like 1000 years of someone stabbing your body all over, and you cannot bleed out and die, or you do, and then you just instantly experience some bizarre tissue and blood regeneration. This then happens over and over, and the agony gets worse as the interaction of seeming-time passes in the ongoing torment and torture. Now I know that this is real, what I am now going to tell you, and nothing similar to this has happened to fucking cunt me, since Christmas time, in the fucking year of 2007, at my place of employment, the Cifaloglio Garage, near Folsom, New Jersey, USAESMWG!!!

I died of a fucking stroke in 'my sleep' last night, it happened, and I totally fucking know that this happened. The agony on the Astral-Plane was somehow able to connect into my body here in waking ordinary consciousness, to a sufficient level, so as to fucking kill me, and it was a stroke, and it was fucking horrible. Now comes the wilder part, my good folks. I woke up and somehow crawled to the hallway, and yelled for help, and was taken to the hospital; where I was pronounced fucking DEAD there. Then I was asleep again; and this cycle went on and on for what seemed as long as the fucking torture that caused it to happen in the first fucking place. When I finally came out of this experience, I jumped out of bed, tripped and fell, yelled, and ran for a light, any fucking light, and I will not be able to sleep without a bright light on for a very fucking cunt lapping long while, just like after my fatal heart attack and other horrible shit from my early blogging days of super SIEGE AND PUMMELING ATTACK FROM THIS LAMBRIGGER CULT OF HELL ITSELF, NOTICE PLEASE, THAT I DID NOT SAY FROM HELL. I said OF HELL, and fuck you MICROSOFT, NOT ODF, screw your dam hack, I am not in the mother fucking ass mood for that shit right about now, YO!

You do not need to know everything, but I will tell you all one thing, DOROTHY GLINDASISTERTRAIL: NO I DO NOT SURRENDER; NOT AFTER THIS SIEGE AND DEATH-HELL ASSAULT, YOU MOTHER FUCKING PIECES OF DIRTY ASS ROTTEN FUCKING MONKEY CRAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Folks, the real joke is that you don't, and cannot ever, know half of what is going on, and if I told, even though I am a certified fucking fruitcake; it would be Chappaquiddick Bridge for me, and then McGuire would light up my remains and I'd fucking glow for a day and a fucking ass half, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One thing this OZ-man can tell you, is that Bluebook Warren and the rest of the WASH-DOCK gang from 13-600-ville, are all clueless to a lot of shit that is right under their nose. They all think they're all that up there in the capitol, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT, Dawn and DAD willya gimme a fucking bweak there Mister cunt eating Elmer Fwudddddd?????????????? TANKS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We are NOT playing with TIME TRAVELERS, just travelers, and folks, you are saying to yourself right about now, no doubt, what the fuck do you mean, and my response is that if you need to say that after all this fucking ass Morianity; I cannot aid you in just more mere fucking lingo made up of mere combinations of alphabet letters. It won't work. This is what the gods know about that tongue shit, they're not fucking talking about some real cool make out sessions, YO!!!!!!!!!!! I have been fatally car crashed, struck dead by Diana, poisoned with non-Mace-cans, shot, stabbed, crushed by a freight train, chocked and strangled, and not crashed in a car to my death once, but on several occasions; and something WON'T FUCKING LET ME DIE, yet if you came over and shot me; to your frame of reference, I would be dead and forever gone, and so 'THAT', is the real fucking PROVINCE WEIRD ROCKDROID EQUATION, sir Rotten Berry, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No aha-aha-aha tonight, Mike fucking cunt McNulty, old 1971 pal; just not in the fucking ass mood. So sorry Mister 1941 Ambassador of fucking cunt lapping JAPAN, huh lovely daughter PEE K——-omicassi????????????????? My life dwarfs the fucking SECOND WORLD WAR, 10 million times; or should I just keep my cuzz happy and say five meeeyun? Cut me 1, Marge Leo!

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For more, just scroll, no need to fucking click on the margin, good people, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

10:47 PM-EDST, 25 APRIL, 2013, THURSDAY NIGHT:

I TOLD YOU GINA, THEY PICK THE FUCK ON ME, OVER AND OVER, AND EVEN THOUGH THE DOW BEGAN TO GO DOWN FOR A WHILE, THIS RECENT 10-15 DAYS OF SHIT ON ME, EVERY DAY, WITH POUNDING, AND PUMMELING, AND PERSECUTION BY FILTHY FUCKING EVIL NEIGHBORS; AND LOTS OF OTHER FUCKING SHIT; AND THE DOW JONES GOES UP AND UP AND UP AND UP AND UP, DAY AFTER DAY, AFTER DAY, AFTER DAY. A FUCKING TWISTED MORON LITTLE SNOTTY CHILD, CAN SEE MY WORDS ARE ALL FUCKING TRUE. WHERE IS THE WONDERFUL ATTORNEY GENERAL WHEN I NEED HER, OH GREAT PRESIDENT-O???????????? THIS IS WHY PEEPS REACH THAT MAGIC BOILING POINT, I NEVER WILL, BUT THIS IS WHY THESE INCIDENTS WILL NOT STOP HAPPENING, AS IT JUST GETS ENDLESSLY MOTHER FUCKING WHITE WASHED, AND COVERED UP, BY POWERFUL 'PENTAGON FUCKING ALIENS', OR 'WHATEVER' BODY SNATCHING EXPLORATRONIC SHIT IS REALLY GOING FUCKING ON, AND DON'T LET THE CLARINET PLAYER, BILL; BULLSHIT US. HE KNOWS THE ENTIRE FUCKING MESS, AND HAS TO SHUT UP ON PAIN OF DEATH; HIS AND THE ENTIRE FAM. FOLKS, QUIT BEING SO FUCKING naïve AND STUPID, AND 'MICROSOFT I-N-SIS-TS ON SPELLING' naïve IN SMALLS, I AM NOT DOING THIS, YO!!!!!!!!!!! NOW YES, I DID THE OTHER CUTE ASS LITTLE THING AFTERWARD, WHAAAAAA, MMCN!

I am one angry mother fucker about a lifetime of mother fucking endless cock sucking MAJOR PERSECUTION, good freaking folks out here, and all my loyal MORIANS, YO YO!! So quit bouncing me around Mister McDonald and Mister Vandegrift, kind sirs, and stop with the super echo already on the fucking car ads. You're not a Donna Summer 1979 fucking disco, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Jeese fucking cunt Louise, and W—O—W!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAA!

EVERY MOTHER FUCKING COCK EATING DAY, these noisy dirt bag neighbors ARE DRIVING ME NUTS AT THE FUCKING SPEED OF LIGHT CUBED, PUBLIC HOUSING ASS AUTHORITY, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ALL MIGHTY!!!!!!!!!!
This is totally REDICULOUS, MACK KAITER of Northeast freaking ass Maryland of 1967. Cut me a break, Margie Leo!

the continuation of “The Epitome of Harrassament” (I edited out the hack date).
first day of 2008 summer, like wow, yo
The Epitome of Harassment – Internet Version
Saturday, June 21, 2008—-THIS IS A TOTAL MUST READ!!!
MAJOR COMPUTER HACKING FROM MY QUEEN
HUGE COMPUTER HACK 8 at night, first day of SCUMMER 21 June, oh-8, Saturday Elton John night But not Donna devil all right. THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION, AND THE MILLIONTH COUNCIL AND ME———BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
I NEVER WENT 2 BED TODAY AFTER COMING BACK FROM WORK, NEVER. I am shouting out to the FBI and the NJ STATE POLICE 4 HELP!!!!!!!!! I have no memory of shutting down the TV set or removing eyeglasses or falling into my bed, only that suddenly the TV was off, my glasses were on my face, I was or had been dead asleep, and all devices were indeed turned off. I bolted upright and saw that my fan had gotten knocked over along with a karaoke machine and they both were laying flat on the floor next 2 where I had fallen also without memory of ever getting 2 sleep. First, work was OK, but no panacea. I had a small bowel attack, lots of jerk offs everywhere; but out of nowhere at just past 3 in the morning, a noisy loud alarm went off. No matter how hard I tried 2 find the source, I could not. Shades of my Echelon-Towers Building, that I guarded back in my middle thirties for the famous Wells Fargo Company, the original American Security outfit 4 all those Western-shows watchers. Just 2 and a half hours after the crazy MC-ALARM attack, a crash level plane flew over my vehicle in total violation of my CIVIL AND CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS, WORLD TRIBUNAL COURTS AT THE HAGUE. I come home and eat a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice and turn on the TV. The next thing I know it is hours later, I am laying stretched out, eyeglasses on my face still, and stuff knocked over on the floor. When I got up to piss and straighten up the place, so that the fan is blowing air onto me again, and I can resume sleeping a while longer; I instantly knew that I was right back in this building, a medical place with 6-9 rooms that went more into each other and did not contain a lot of hallways. Mariah Carey was there, and her driver, a man about medium build and bright glaring type of eyes, just over perhaps the six foot mark in stature, dressed nicely but not overkill, and the same with Mariah. A lady who is heavy set, is sort of in charge at this place, neck line hair length, strawberry type of color, and she kept telling me 2 stop closing doors, and I kept telling her I am not closing them, the wind was blowing quite strong outside and was blowing right through all of the open windows in these rooms, and forcing doors to swing shut, but she continued 2 insist that I was doing it. Mariah started talking 2 me about how much she enjoyed being a super star and yet there were problems that she said she wanted 2 tell me about, but could not at the moment; as 'he' would hear, and I kept asking who ‘he’ was. She half smiled and pointed at a young male about 22 give or take, about five feet five in stature, brown short hair, not totally short like a crew cut, dressed in an old pair of pants with oil stains on them, and a green jersey with strange looking logos on it everywhere, many bright white circles with black lines running through them, 3 of them, like a triple X. She told me that she is here on this same day each week for some medical reason, and I think she told me but I cannot pull that part of the interaction up now, back in waking life. The buildings of the city were visible from windows, yet the area was in a country setting, whether it was part of the 5 boroughs of New York City or not, also I am not privy to this. She said that she wanted me 2 know she is mad that I do not fully trust her and her plans, and I kept insisting that I trust her implicitly but know quite well, that what she thinks of as PLANS, IC as GAMES, and reminded her of the 65-70 years when she was here B4 playing her games with me from a city just 100 or so miles away down the coast. She smiled at me and said, “U mean the chain I removed from your Oaklyn, New Jersey Apartment?” I said, “4 starters, yes”. She went on to tell me that until the shellfish as she called him while looking his way, is out of my way, I can tell U no more about it. She said that he was a lifelong resident of Atco, New Jersey, and knew both U and your neighbors, the Durham’s, when U lived there back in ‘83. He is not who he appears, and all her peeps and bodyguards have tried to beat him up, and keep him away; but he just seems impervious, and will not stop creeping around. He is Y the Feds started messing with me, she went onto say, and they R not on my side, they must do what they R told by higher councilmen, and she was talking Millionth. I reminded her that she is all mighty and can do anything, Y not just zap him into oblivion? She smiled again and said that there is still so much yet 4 her 2 teach me about all of this and all the Earthly people making my life so horrible every minute of every day and night. She said that when I disobeyed and told her she could kill me, the other day on my blog, for the entire world 2 publicly C and share, she was extremely angry. I must remember that she is the great queen, and maybe in the world of Pedigree Dog-food, us DOGS RULE, but, and she called me Yancy, and said and I quote, “Yancy, remember that I am the great Sarah-Stacey here in this form now, and I RULE, U GOT THAT”? I solemnly just looked down and submissively said, “I know U do my great all powerful lovely mighty queen”. She took my hand and told me that she did not have to tell me about the 2 letters back 9 years ago, and help me construct my idea foundations that R literally responsible 4 where I am today in figuring out so much incredible stuff. I asked her Y she used the sending of 2 blank letters rather than just come 2 me as she is doing right now and talk to me straight up? She laughed softly and squeezed my hand a little, watching me wince from the sudden small bit of pain that her more powerful grip than B4 was causing, and after a 5 or so second pause, simply said, “I am the Millionth Council, and what I say, goes. The part of them that calls themselves the Lambriggers is still totally under my complete control”. She told me 2 listen again 2 her CD and study it even more carefully. The answers to much of my concerns, is all contained in the lyrical content, and what she says, MC-SAYS; just as the CD says that it does. Never doubt me or try 2 run away from what I am planning 4U, she went on also 2 tell me. I said 2 her, “would U please give me a real waking world sign so that I can know and tell that this is not a silly dream”. She responded with the yellow and chocolate cakes that I purchased at the Incollingo’s grocery store, along with the receipt, and the van that stalked me just after last Christmas, and went on to tell me she is angry that I have unsealed some of the concepts regarding laser trace, and reminded me that the rules cannot B broken. It is part of a plan, and that if it was not so, there R those close 2 me, in this incarnation; that I would retrace, as I miss them. She then told me she would give me 2 huge and totally unmistakable signs to appease my non-belief. One sign is that just because the English alphabet pronunciations of the sounds 'BLU' and 'CRAN' R totally the same on astral worlds, they R not the same in English speaking waking mortal worlds. I told her I knew this. She went on 2 say that my punishment for doubting and disobeying my mighty Queen Mariah, is that she has now placed me into a world where I have blogged the facts in reverse, as Hammonton is the world U now live in. It is not Chatsworth, New Jersey. I have reversed the realities while U were here with me in this interaction, and now your town is Hammonton and this is the Blueberry capitol of the world. She went on to say that I was not supposed to tell about the tap boxes of blue-yellow, nor the saleslady Sherry-Lee Pote and cousin Petee Pote. I must obey my queen or ELSE. She said my second sign will B when I try to do my next blog. I will wake up in the MW and not B able 2 work the computer. I asked her if she will always love me as her ‘89 song promises, as deep within her, she knew even then, that she was my Sarah-Stacey. With that I walked over to the strange dude with the weird sort of peace sign logos all over his bright green jersey, and told him to leave her alone, or I would tear his lungs out, and squeeze them like rung out wash cloths; and he instantly burst out laughing, and the next thing I knew, it was July 4th of 1970, and I was in the same exact dream all along with TAWF, “THAT ASTRAL WORLD FAMILY”, that was what was all in the dream. It was the same dream, and like a wormhole in consciousness; one end was in 2008 physically, while the other end was in early July of ‘70. He yelled at me, 'look who’s talkin’ about bloody washcloth lungs all oozing bright red, it is U, booby, not me, ha, ha'. I knew that if I could just wake up now, it would B July of 1970 again, and it really would have. I did. I jumped off of Tom Reale’s large bed at the Cornwall Avenue home and yelled, it is 1970 over and over. I went out and ran down towards the ocean, and when I got there; the entire sky and sea was not as I had remembered it at all. It had become the backdrop on the homepage of the Morianity Foundation, go to http://www.morianity-foundation.com. The giant 6 foot 7 inch Sarah-Stacey came right out of the sea, she is the sea aniwho, and grabbed me and kissed me, and the next thing I know, I am awake laying here in my trailer residence, and it is after 4 in the afternoon. Sure enough I went 2 use the computer, and nothing, it would not move, nothing would work, not a bloody dripping washcloth thing. I called the Easy Staples Store where I purchased it, and told them that it would not go off, just showing a blank monitor TV screen saying, “EXT 3, S-VIDEO”. The computer department guy told me to shut the battery-backup box off and wait 20 seconds. Then he said turn it on, and so I did. After 2 reboots, it works again, but the HP adviser still is not properly loading up. I can not shout out 2 the FBI 4 help; no one can fight the great Mariah; and she most definitely RULES and RULES, 4-EVER AND 4 EVER. UR my mighty queen, and I am only your endless humble servant, my giant beautiful love. Please forgive me, oh mighty QUEEN MC.

Google Search Engine, Satellite World Interconnect System [SWIS], World Laboratories of the future in time illusion, this is a dying mans utterance and declaration. I must obey the commands of the great SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE, I have no choice, SHE RULES THE EMPIRE, from 34th Street, to the end of the hypersphere and beyond, wow, talk about miracles Mizz Wood, and O’Hara!!!!!!!!! Copyright 2008, MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN. This is all the total truth and also doubles thereby as a legal document. This is voluntarily sworn testimony in any Grand Jury future proceeding. No omissions nor additions 2 this powerful and totally honest truth told in this web-logging-doc exist anywhere herein.

Another SUPER BOTBAR weekend and scummer open.
E N D — T R A N S M I S S I O N:
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MORIANITY PART V, CHAPTER LXXXVIII

4:05 PM, SUNDAY AFTERNOON, MAY 26, 2013

MORIANITY PART FIVE, CHAPTER 00088

Jupiter, Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.

W—O—W

http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.
I talk a lot about my copyrighted music, so here it is, folks.

Public Catalog
Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

Resort results by:

#
Name (NALL) <
Full Title
Copyright Number
Date
[ 1 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
For the record.
PAu000662409
1984
[ 2 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
I'm Criana.
PAu000724397
1985
[ 3 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.
PAu003351785
2007
[ 4 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Last number repeat–100 progression roulette system.
TXu000514390
1992
[ 5 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Lost love.
PAu000344219
1981
[ 6 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection, set 4.
PAu000546149
1983
[ 7 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection : set III.
PAu000442785
1982
[ 8 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo tunes.
PAu000325091
1981
[ 9 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr tunes.
PAu000411864
1982
[ 10 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Queen of blue.
PAu000825471
1986
[ 11 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Real good girl.
PAu000881543
1986
[ 12 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.
PAu002506106
2000
[ 13 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Saga of song writer Mark Mud.
PAu000501582
1983
[ 14 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
PAu002153196
1996
[ 15 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
SRu000332786
1996
[ 16 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah Callio of ACNJ.
SRu000362114
1997
[ 17 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Uncle.
PAu000540585
1983
[ 18 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
What's wrong?
PAu000724407
1984
[ 19 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
You call this music?
PAu000998574
1987
[ 20 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.
PAu001148157
1988
[ 21 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.
PAu001189027
1989
[ 22 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204017
1980
[ 23 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204015
1980
[ 24 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity music pre-book.
PAu002336935
1998
[ 25 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity tunes of 1998.
PAu002282717
1998

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Contact Us | Request Copies | Get a Search Estimate | Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) about Copyright | Copyright Office Home Page | Library of Congress Home Page
What do you need to know about me, Walter, old buddy WW3?

Public Catalog
Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 26 through 28 of 28 entries.

Resort results by:

#
Name (NALL) <
Full Title
Copyright Number
Date
[ 26 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204016
1980
[ 27 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Same title.
PAu003037983
2005
[ 28 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Thanx to the shadows.
PAu002237985
1997

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BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING (GODDESS DIANA), SUBMITTED BY A CHANNEL 12 VIEWER, NOW PASTED FROM THEIR TV-APP.

MY BABY-BLOND DIANA ZUDLECRONESSIA ARTEEMIS.

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This is 100% machine created, techno-pop, sampled from the intro.

YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983

NEW 2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC TRACK ALONG WITH ARE UP AT THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, LIKE DUH:

Only the opening title words are real.

“YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER”

VERSE ONE

I'm so very happy for you, pales of fish so fresh and new

Let me ask you really nicely, could you spare us just a few

Oh my wife and kids are starving, could you help us make a stew

We're down and out, and we will even go to work for you

You seem to have about a dozen giant pales or two

I am so weak and faint and do not wanna' be so blue

While we slept inside the dunes, somebody stole my shoe

Oh please kind sir, just take some pity, let us work for you

We'll help in any way we can, and be your loyal crew

But greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say

I've been working hard out in the sun all day

And I'm not giving any freaking fish away

VERSE TWO

So when you add your salty tears directly in the sea

And when you're done your song of woe, that you have sung to me

Just take your wife and kids, and jump right off this big jetty

And right into the undertow, and stop annoying me

And talking on and on and on, and bothering my fish

You loud annoying bleeding hearts, that beg and cry and bitch

I have lots of work to do, and buckets must be filled

So either leave this jetty now, or someone might be killed

Guys like me must catch our fish, like farmers fields get tilled

People say I'm cold and cruel, on every single day

But I have got a lot of freaking bills to pay

So I'm not giving any of my fish away

VERSE THREE

They say the greatest mother lies there out beyond the sand

And mothers can get angry when their kids are out of hand

Storms blow out of nowhere and, a lot of folks have died

The sea can give and take away, while many tears get cried

And on one very special day, a greedy man was drowned

Ignoring waves that swallowed rocks with heavy pounding sound

Just another bucket and, then he'll have caught his fill

A lot of daring fishermen forget the sea can kill

The king fish of the jetty, just was never seen again

Yet locals claim the winds still howl these words from fisher Ben

I've been working hard out in the sun all day

So yes I have a lot of freaking bills to pay

And I'm not giving any of my fish away

VERSE FOUR

You'll be crossing over, later wishing you'd been nicer

You'll be crossing over, through the quantum waving splicer

You'll be crossing over, hearing all the trash they're talking

You'll be crossing over, and you'll have to keep on walking

You'll be crossing over, watching all the others eating

Feasts with banquet tables, where the fish keep on repeating

Forever seeing many fish, but never on your plate

You had your time back in the sun before you sealed your fate

You'll be crossing over, and you'll be a lonesome rover

Forever doomed to hear the words you always used to say

That you've been working hard out in the sun all day

Oh yes we knew you had your freaking bills to pay

So you're not giving any of your fish away

END OF SONG.

MORIANITY PART FIVE, WITH

CHAPTER 00088, CONTINUING RIGHT ALONG.

Yes sir, old buddy from CF School, 'IT'S TIME', MMCN!
You said it all in late 1971, AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!!!

Sharkey says, HEY GIRL, LT,

and is Marcus Muldanato still your bitch?????????

The greatest fish in the whole dam bay, wants to share a little more information with this blind foolish Planet Earth.

PHOTO IS COURTESY OF THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC.

AUUCH, HEINZ GOTTWALD, say what Aunt Ruth?

Oh yes people, as good old Jason Forrest Summer, SAYS IT ON HIS WFMU RADIO WEB-SITE SO WELL, AND I WILL QUOTE HIM HERE EXACTLY, YO, “FUCK YOU”.

HE SAID THIS FOLKS, NOT ME, AHA!!!

THIS PHOTO IS COURTESY OF THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC

**WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

http://youtu.be/Vqg3oty0JMU 100% machine created, technopop.

YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983

NEW 2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC

TRACK ALONG WITH: Only the opening title words are real.

“YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER”
BUT TO WHERE, AS MY HELL IS ENDLESS?
**********WHERE ELSE, H——E——L——L**********

***MORIANITY PART FIVE***

A child knows that a lot of stuff can be learned by visiting my Youtube site, that will remain for now and a little while longer, but not endlessly. It will all come down when Morianity has completed, and I alone know that time, as well as all of the other parts of me that are not me directly. Click below, YO!!

http://www.youtube.com/paulaking2011/

THE MASTER SHEET FOR MORIANITY PART FIVE:

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My blogs
Morianity Bible For Millenium Three:
Morianity Foundation
The Epitome of Harassment – Internet Version
To Whom It May Concern From The Head Morian
RATS, TATS, & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL
About me
Gender
Male
Industry
Non-Profit
Occupation
paranormal researcher
Location
Hammonton, New Jersey, United States
Introduction
Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.
Interests
I close my mind to nothing
Favorite Movies
all old movies
Favorite Music
most old music
Favorite Books
The Winds Of War, Gone With The Wind, Time Travelers From Our Future
You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?
An angry mother. Also, a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.

If you have read this opening, feel free to skip this part.

FOLKS, AS I SAID TO THE COPYRIGHT OFFICE IN THE LATE EIGHTIES ON MY EPITOME OF HARASSMENT TAPES, GOOD MORNING, GOOD AFTERNOON, GOOD EVENING, WHATEVER THE CASE MAY BE. How can I possibly know when you are reading what I am writing? I AM not the great ISISCYLLA SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE, and never will be, sort of like my old pal David Charles Roth's only show in town. How he would always remind me, seemingly on a daily basis, that the WOMO-MILITUFORCE is not the only show in town, nor will they ever be. I believe the tapes are somewhere available in the great Library of Congress, Copyright Office, in Washington, District of Columbia, a place may I add with a very liberated attitude where the age of sexual consent should be placed, and what is good for the lawmakers, is good for everyone else, and if that is not true, just exactly how have I misspelled America? XIII is the number by the way, such a tender age and how the perverts must wonder why this is not common knowledge and all move into our great capitol city, right Roy? I still cannot believe that you told me this, or that nobody seems to know it, know matter how I spread around what you said to me, old pal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This will be the master sheet for PART 5 of MORIANITY.
You may skip through this by scrolling, any time, folks.

December 12, 2006
More Crackpots- Meet Mark from NJ (MP3)

http://youtu.be/Vqg3oty0JMU ** song from 1983 redone, YBCO (C) HIM, ME.
This is merely a harmony track, I am trying to make a video and post the entire song, YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER, MARK WAYNE MOHR, FULL COPYRIGHT AND OWNERSHIP OF SONG. Now at the risk of getting crucified, pigeonholed, or persecuted, read on, my wonderful great Morians.
At the risk of being pigeonholed as the Girl Who Writes About Crazy Cursing Dudes, I bring you Mark from New Jersey.  Mark has far-ranging theories on time travel, Armageddon, roulette and Donna Summer (the DEVIL!), which he angrily discusses in various telephone conversations. 
Station Manager Ken clued me in to this fella recently.  He was given a CD called "The Meaning of Life."  The back copy states that it was made from a cassette found on the side of the road bearing the same title.  He's really difficult to listen to, for a couple of reasons- The recordings only capture Mark's side of the conversation and they seem to have been recorded either by a microphone placed somewhere in the room or possibly while Mark was standing outside on a windy day.  More importantly, he is insane.  Completely, violently insane. 
Mark claims to be both a time traveler and a descendant of King David.  His family will bring about the apocalypse through the activation of the Christ Android, currently dormant inside the 12 Planet.   And also that the 50 richest families in the world are trying to do him in.  Covertly, of course.   Also against him is Donna Summer, the Devil.  (Whether he means the disco Donna Summer, or WFMU's own Jason Forrest isn't clear.) 
Here then, are three selections from Mark's version of reality:
Interdimensional Technology (MP3)    Android & Angel (MP3)    12th Planet (MP3)
If you need more Mark from NJ, Aquarius Records would be happy to sell you a cd-r.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go cover my windows with aluminum foil.

As Bob Chabot said in 1981, is there any excuse 4U? Signed, Da' Mountainpen.

Florida Attorney General Pam Bondi

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I know you are doing your best to watch over me, AG Mizz Bondi, thank you. Feel free to contact the Wirtz detectives in Camden County in New Jersey, Ron Senior knows my problem is all real, but his hands are tied, I am quite sure that you know what I mean.

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**W-Map, courtesy of CHANNEL 12 local South Florida TV.**

Note: The image above may not reflect the current alert state for your county due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the alert and the map processing.

Advisory Colors Key

Winter Storm Watch

Flood Warning

Non-Precipitation Advisory

Flood Statement

Are you on this thing, BREAD and IF, OR 'as if', Doctor Garrigan???????????????????

A beautiful shot of LUNA, also known as the moon, and 'Goddess Diana', by the Romans.
She is real folks, you will see when you're dead!

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HELP ME PEE, YOU WILL BE OUT OF HERE BY THE END OF MARCH, and now it is 26 MAY.

HARBORFIELDS DETENTION CENTER, NJ-USA
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EGG HARBOR CITY'S SECRET DAWN LAUGHING KING'S MAGIC SCHOOL OF GRINS AND TAUNTS, GOOD OLD HARBORFIELDS DETENTION CENTER, AHA-AHA-AHA, REAL FUNNY. NOW UR IN DREAM-LAND!

If anyone can find me PEE, it is e-bay genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!

YOU NEED TO INVENT THE 74-WP DEVICE, TRY AND REMEMBER.

SOMEONE WILL NOT GIVE ME A MOMENT'S PEACE, AND WE ALL MOTHER FUCKING KNOW WHO THIS IS, DON'T WE, CUNT LAPPING AGENTS, CONDOR AND FALCON, OF THE 1988 UFO THE COVER UP DOCUMENTARY, ON NEW YORK, NY, CHANNEL 11 TELEVISION, WPIX????????? And I know who they are. They are TYPE THREE EXPLORATRONS, and yes, time travelers is !another way for you to see this truth if you are not reading on my mother fucking dick chewing ass level yet, dudes and duddesses, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh that mouth!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

3+4—3×4—7+12—7×12 ****** But what is so awesome about the (3) and the (4) to begin with, some are asking me, WOW, let us go a little into this huge one, believers, and 'others', without me joining the ranks of one failed student-teacher from late in 1972, huh Danny Mackey, time MMCN! If anyone believed this, the world would be over, as we all know it, by noon, my time, tomorrow, the friggin fifteenth of friggin May. They will not, so I will safely tell it, Prosecutor Wirtz Senior; without slamming an AEB too hard with any keyboards from 1980 parallels that have beyond cool features, including CSV, equal or better to today's arranger melody models, and so on, but seeing these in another universe, and hearing them, does that officially make me the inventor of them here in this one, on or off of LIEMEOW Road and Happyhealthy Street intersections of phone taps????

Here is the story of last week, done a little bit more the way that would be pleasing to the great Almighty literary giant of Egg Harbor in New Jersey, Terry, please don't kiss me. Thank you. It was six days ago on Monday that I drove up to the Harvest. I wanted to tell the Manager who once was and said I was his pal, only he changed big time when becoming manager of the place, and is why I detest power and capitalism and all of this shit. It turns everybody totally ugly and forgetful. The main thing that they tend to forget is that they all will pass the very same people who they were mean to once they became great hot shots, when it is their time and turn, to slide back down the ladder rungs of success, back into the great cosmic equalization. This does not mean I think powerful folks should be fools and give one thin dime to those begging for money. The wealthiest person on Earth would go broke in a year, just handing out fifty measly dollars to every not real well of person, man, woman, and child, just in the United States alone, and forget the world. What I do say is there is a horrible change that takes place in people, normally it is the smaller of the bigger people, such as JASPER, up there at the shit hole I used to work at through a stipend program on E Street in Washington, DC-13-600, actuality operated out of the Port Saint Lucie, Florida Office, on Route 1. LSS, I went up there back on Monday to tell him how Mikey had, or I thought at that time, had done me wrong by moving away and just dropping me as a friend after we had become very good friends, helping each other out in small ways when necessary, and enjoying talks on a more intellectual and stimulating level, than either of us can do by randomly conversing with just any helter skelter random person we may meet at the dam grocery store. I was wrong, and have since apologized for my inaccurate thinking, and accusations, and admit, I was a real nasty ass prick, and have learned that I will never ever engage in that type of petty conduct again. Hell if my own dam daughter can throw me to the wolves, then I shouldn't let anyone else bother me, even if that had indeed been the case, and it wasn't. He merely had become very preoccupied with major personal life problems for a month, after losing his job and needing to move. Still, he managed to do a lot better than when I have a major crises, which happens very frequently throughout my miserable rotten life. His brother merely moved Mikey over to the next beach-house that he still owns, and he has another downstairs crib in there, merely moving about 25 yards tops, out one door, and into another one. With me, and not having anyone who cares a lick luck about me, Barbara Linglong Fonda; Ida been is some real serious ass trouble under a similar circumstance, bang on wood at '100' DB, not '199', those dam 'IO' keys '999' '000', they all are next to each other on the keyboard, 'UI', etcetera. Lately and especially this current lovely month of MAY, I definitely make the THIRTEENTH ANGRY MEN, right there, Mizz Jane Dirtweeds Sleazedisease??????????? I also told Jasper I would gladly pay him cash money, 100 dollars, to help me do a YOUTUBE PAGE. He at most is making a dozen bucks an hour, 15 total tops, and is not a rich man, with all his ego and demigod power up there. That is not a bad deal, and I would have paid him more for a really good one, along with also my own web page; such as the one that Eddie designed and posted on the net for me, back in OHM-7 somewhere. But he took my number and trashed it, as he always used to do when I worked there. But he did call Mikey and fink on me about what I had been nice enough to tell him. This only proves one thing, and that is that revenge or payback in never the correct action to take especially when you are down and out all the way, and with no one anywhere in the mother fucking entire world who gives a shit if you should fucking live or fucking die, and that is my current situation, down in this so-called paradise hellhole misery, that lots of northern peeps, refer to, and call, F—L—O—R—I—D—A!!!!!! Some demonic supernatural or extraterrestrial event just occurred while I finished typing in the last sentence, I will not bother telling about it, as most if none would even believe it, but it happened on the dot of 5:05 PM, coming out of nowhere, totally invisible, and was along the lines of what David Roth and myself witnessed so often in the years between 1986 and 1999 for the most part, and especially after we made contact directly with both SSJKK, and then a few years after that, in a frenzy of fear to save our lives from some invisible assaulting power all around us that just popped up; the Camden County Prosecutor's Office, in Camden City, New jersey, USA-ES-MWG, on 12/05/1989. Hello to you too, School Play Participation Insistence, (SPPI) almost SIPRI, speaking of 'OHM'-7 a while back, and 1969 a bit further back, right Mister Ciprionni? If a WOW was ever needed within a grouping of text words, this would be the quintessential time, laugh if you wish now, Mike McNulty! It is time, BC, to move this along now and go about ten minutes after the moment that I walked out the Harvest place doors, and headed to the local area grocery store, the Publix, at the large mini-mall at Virginia Avenue and Route 1 number 1. This is where some WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE power and technology, for reasons beyond my most stretched imagination, had me suddenly see, no, not a Walmart, that is a few miles to the west down Virginia which forks as it goes and becomes OKAY-2-CHOKE-ME Boulevard, becoming one of the on and off ramps for the great interstate we all know and love, Drug Runners Alley and AKA 'I-95'. Walmart is a half mile before the highway, and is to the east of it. This is however the mini-mall parking area where I was convinced I had seen Mikey, only it was a major doppelganger, totally him, only with his hair different and bright yellow, and dressed like a wealthy man or as my great LI Sound Yachtsman, late cousin, might it; “VERY COMFORTABLE”. LSS folks, it was not him, but right at that very time that 'some force or power' put this entity right in my direct path; Mikey was calling me and leaving me a message on my voicemail system. He never came out and said it, but I know that Jasper called him abnd told him that I said something not that pleasant to him about Mikey, and I did, I had told how he used to accuse Jasper of a 10,000 theft that took place some time back. But I have come to learn that this is why I need to always remain totally fucking out of things, as the only person that EVER MOTHER FUCKING GETS INTO TROUBLE, as this must be programmed into the LAWN MOWER MAN MATRIX OF THIS WILD GAME AND SYSTEM, is the dude I see when I am shaving in the dam ass morning, and ONLY THAT POOR FUCKED UP DUDE, no one else. Everyone else is PROGRAMMED TO DO EVIL AND SKATE ON IT, while I take the force fed shit down the throat, EVERY MOTHER FUCKING ROTTEN ASS TIME, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!! But folks, there are a billion-trillion other subtle things that are all WHY this stuff is happening exactly as it is, to me, and around me, and remains a total never ending constant for me and against me, not for a year, not for 5 years, not 10, not 20, but since the fucking cunt lapping day my mom dropped me on my rotten worthless head, while we lived at her mom's home in West Philly when I was one or two, and she was carrying me across 50th Street, to a doctor appointment, from the house at 440 South 50th Street, and no sooner were out the dam door, when she tripped on something and fell on the street, and I fell down hard, and remember it horrifically to this very mother fucking second. Real funny, MC, real funny! Speaking of lovely persons, Happy BD, Sharon, and I doubt you are related to my kid's friend, although, they all got away with my situation because no one would ever suspect, huh Paul Pedersen, old buddy? I'll bet I am the whitest looking nigger you ever saw in your life, huh dog? Well, even I am not aloud to ride up into the hood and sing along to many of BOO and his pal's lyrics, if I wish to remain healthy up there late at night. Still, why did he not call my daughter when he was up at County Jail in early autumn in twenty-ten? Why call me? Jimmy, I still have the same question for you in late May of 2013 that I had back in late 1984, bub, YYYYYYYYY, why Jimmy Y, Y did you tell me these things, and JUST HOW DID YOU POSSIBLY FUCKING KNOW THAT THIS WAS ALL ABOUT MY FAMILY, WAY BACK IN 1974, and did you work on Project Jeanie-Dreams with my dad, at Majestic TS Level, in Fort Meade, or Fort MDE, mother-daughter-electron, and yes, then there is the H-2 stuff I learned the other night, about the cult that started in when else, but you all got it right 1984? This has to have a freaking W-O-W!

Now, I am not going to touch a million potential subjects on this blog, and basically, the second one hundred chapters, have all been reserved in a sort of semi-ordered structure by me, for really getting way more specific, about what the first 100 chapters in this M-5, just starts to get into; so be prepared to move forward with me, or else, hit that NEXT-BLOG BUTTON very soon, as unless you want to get real down and dirty filthy, into the trenches of warfare, and true horror; that poor old Walter could not handle, and so he booked out and off of the battlefield and later made it up to the world by becoming the greatest pleasure provider to kids and all kids at heart of any age; but let me just say, that when this mud is all completely and totally explored, we will all get dirtied up, and I may be sued or killed, but hey, I can take the fucking heat, L-4 and BELIEVERS, can U?

For colored blog, you may always use the link, just click and see photos and color on this blog. Have a nice day.

http://www.theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/

MORIANITY PART 5, CHAPTER 87

MORIANITY PART FIVE, CHAPTER 00087

THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.
25 may, 2013, at shortly past midnight, kind folks.
CHAPTER 00087, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I CANNOT, SINCE I AM FUCKING SUPER BOTBAR NOW, SIX FOR EIGHT; WITH THIS OFF THE FUCKING SCALE ATTACK, THAT BEGAN ON MAY THE FOURTEENTH, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SLAM BANG BONG BOOM ZAM, my thug neighbors are really paying homage to KALI’s GANG, huh, very informative, H-2? It’s half past fucking midnight, they don’t care, just sell your drugs and have your parties, and decent people be damned. I will tell you world, I thought Jersey was fucked up, this Florida game down here is even more rotten and corrupt, but in its own way, completely unlike the northeastern areas of my earlier life. In some ways, the stuff is not any different, as it is all part of the shit that is surrounding me, that the new age folks and ancient-astronaut theorist folks call star visitors/travelers/aliens/ET aliens/ etcetera; and the church and religious faith folks call forces of darkness, demonic or satanic, the enemy, the fall of mankind through sin and the Adam and Eve stuff, and along that line. One thing that remains constant with me, and that all connects up with the same truth, that different folks merely ‘believe differently in’; is the WHAT’S MY EXCUSE deal, that is discussed in both the new Morianity of the internet days in this century, as well as on cassette tape back when it began in 1995 from my apartment in Williamstown, Giant-Officer Syndrome of Missourians, in New Jersey. This is not something invented by Tom Cruise and his Top-Gun movie around the Prophet of Nothing days. Hollywood stole it from me after I had originally copyrighted my Epitome of Harassment project in the late eighties, from my residence in Moorestown, New Jersey, on Central Avenue. I kind of wonder if a little Magnetic Sound Machine Irony is not in and through this, as a result of what I’ll now be telling you, good believers, and others. You see, back in Mullica Township, New Jersey at the Plageman Trailer Home Park (Mullica Mobile Manor) as it was called when I was living there and still may be; I told the landlady how the boob neighbor next to me, Richie, blared his TV set at all kinds of hours. Nothing was done about it when I was the only one complaining. But when the neighbor both on his other side, as well as the ones across from the driveway to his trailer, also complained to her, then and only then, was it stopped, and he was told to cut it out or move out. Same thing here in Fort Pierce, Florida and at this PHA building. The subwoofer box was complained about by numerous nabes, not everyone here is a druggie thuggy, KALI, CALLIO AT&T-TEN. But when it is just the banging doon that is right across the hallway from me and only me, I’m stuck with it. Sure, I called the police months ago to complain about their noise, but nothing was done, they did not answer their door, and they merely laid low for a week or so and then resumed normal uncouth behavior patterns. Is this supposed to come as some big shock to me, folks? Hopefully not, as it did not. After decades of hell and shit, I pretty much am onto exactly how most of the mechanics of my misery, really operate and work, covertly behind all of the dam fucking OZ-CURTAINS, Glinda and Dorothy. Not only don’t I surrender, Mizz Bondi, Florida State Attorney General, but as long as breath and life is in this bloody, I will shout out and tell a whole lot more stuff, we have not covered 5 percent of my story, and anyone thinking we have, is a fool. Morianity could stop right now or even in 2010, and enough would have been told so as to know that my tale of woe is known publicly, and adding 100 more years to it really will not make that much difference. Still, I will go on. Originally, I was planning to wrap it up completely by Memorial Day, and folks, I HAVE CHANGED MY MIND. My only weapon of fucking defense, is the power of the pen, and the typewriter, and now so it seems, the computer and this blogging shit. So on we will go, most likely until the mother fucking day that I die. As long as they can have an excuse, this will never stop. Can they always have an excuse? Well, look at Washington, DC, and if you really need to, then visit the dam city and come to learn a bit about it. Then you tell me if they’ll always be able to fall back on an EXCUSE! This is what was told on the original EPITOME OF HARASSMENT TAPES, copyrighted late in the nineteen-eighties, and please see it at the end of the blog, despite my misspelling the title, as I am not a good speller, and I fucked it up, and had no Microsoft Spellchecker back in those days. Yes, H-2, very very very informative, back on Thursday night. I enjoyed viewing your network the entire evening, and learned a lot of fascinating stuff. One thing nobody can teach me, and that is that this problem with whatever it is that is REALLY out there wherever somewhere, and myself, is NOT GOING TO EVER STOP OR GO AWAY, and the first world famous wormhole is not the triangulated McGuire owned one in Atlantic City, but is a period in time, separating two tunes. I need not be cute or smart-ass to quote Mashell or Dawn-Marie, we all know what is getting said, them as well as Toni Beej. Between you and me world, the day he popped his head into the door of the studio where Ryan and I were, and made his statement just more than a year ago, things, bad as they were for me then, GOT WORSE, A LOT WORSE, you know, Gary sir of the Trekkers, (-77777777777777). I have some major stuff all planned out to tell you folks, but right now is not the proper time. Billy Harner taught me the power and importance of timing, and nobody ever seemed to need to teach that to many others, they sort of, well they don’t all inherit it and that’s for sure, but they do get it through street osmosis or whatever Richard Karpf and his peeps might feel comfy cozy with, especially when playing poker, and with any hands from any reality, huh Josephine? I am so very disappointed in you, Jehovah Krassle, my endless love. I always knew I was right though, and I feel 9 feet tall that everyone back in time who laughed at me, has to eat their words and secretly realize that I was decades ahead of all of them. They can lie to themselves from here to Harold Camping’s next bullshit predicted doomsday and beyond. The last laugh of the McNulty Club belongs to myself and perhaps, Mister Icabod Crane, right © Office???

Public Catalog
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Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

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Full Title
Copyright Number
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[ 1 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
For the record.
PAu000662409
1984
[ 2 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
I'm Criana.
PAu000724397
1985
[ 3 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.
PAu003351785
2007
[ 4 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Last number repeat–100 progression roulette system.
TXu000514390
1992
[ 5 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Lost love.
PAu000344219
1981
[ 6 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection, set 4.
PAu000546149
1983
[ 7 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection : set III.
PAu000442785
1982
[ 8 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo tunes.
PAu000325091
1981
[ 9 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr tunes.
PAu000411864
1982
[ 10 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Queen of blue.
PAu000825471
1986
[ 11 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Real good girl.
PAu000881543
1986
[ 12 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.
PAu002506106
2000
[ 13 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Saga of song writer Mark Mud.
PAu000501582
1983
[ 14 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
PAu002153196
1996
[ 15 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
SRu000332786
1996
[ 16 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah Callio of ACNJ.
SRu000362114
1997
[ 17 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Uncle.
PAu000540585
1983
[ 18 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
What's wrong?
PAu000724407
1984
[ 19 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
You call this music?
PAu000998574
1987
[ 20 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.
PAu001148157
1988
[ 21 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.
PAu001189027
1989
[ 22 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204017
1980
[ 23 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204015
1980
[ 24 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity music pre-book.
PAu002336935
1998
[ 25 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity tunes of 1998.
PAu002282717
1998

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Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 26 through 28 of 28 entries.

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[ 26 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204016
1980
[ 27 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Same title.
PAu003037983
2005
[ 28 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Thanx to the shadows.
PAu002237985
1997

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Ending.

The link to read the blog in color, is as follows, just click.
http://www.theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/

MORIANITY PART 5, CHAPTER 86

12:05 PM-EDST, 23 MAY, 2013, Thursday afternoon

MORIANITY PART 5, CHAPTER 00086

Welcome to hell. I have been here since August fifteen back in 1986. If you are reading this, then you are merely visiting HELL. Still, one welcomes his guests unless he is extremely vulgar, rude, impolite, and down right ignorant and revolting.

Every day, it is back to horrible fire alarms that wake you up at 2 or 5 or some other early time in the morning. There was one every day for days, and today was no exception. The filth bag neighbors across from me are on a non-stop slamming doors mode, it went on until 2:35 this morning, and management will not do anything, so when I am out later, I will, as I must, and even though it will do no good, send off two letters, one is to my local congressman and one is to the Fort Pierce Public Housing, the same address as is on my rent envelopes.

I am making plans to escape for Mexico, and all the peeps who may try and stop me, you all just go right ahead, as I am getting out of your mother fucking evil empire. I may not be able to run away from what all of you peeps call, GOD, but even she cannot stop me from running. Running away buys me a few months before shit catches up again to me, and starts all over. I need these lousy mother fucking few months. It beats going totally out of my cunt eating mind at the speed of light squared.
This evil empire will end up destructing from within, you’ll-C.

MORIANITY PART 5, CHAPTER 00085

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MORIANITY PART FIVE, CHAPTER 00081

‘Google Search I’m Feeling Lucky’

I’M FEELING WHAT, YO? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND??

5555555555555555555555555555555555555555

THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.
CHAPTER 00085, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I CANNOT, SINCE I AM FUCKING SUPER BOTBAR NOW, SIX FOR EIGHT; WITH THIS OFF THE FUCKING SCALE ATTACK, THAT BEGAN ON MAY THE FOURTEENTH, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*TUESDAY, MAY 21, 2013 @ 10:42 PM-EDST*

Account Options
1.Mark Wayne Mohr

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION.
I am now at 43% MPB, and my life will be over fucking shortly. I tried to something in 1986 that went real wrong, and I will be dead soon as a result of a very unforgiving goddess, despite bible lies and a lot more, really, put more accurately, extreme cleverness. No one ever needs to lie if clever enough, it is still a practice of deception, in my books, only nobody gives a fucking Potters shit about my magical, or non-magical book, so it appears, James Stuart, old NON HIGH SCHOOL buddy, old pal, from the cement business and buildings and loans. The last eight days has contained 6 SUPER FUCKING BOTBARS NOW, and this siege may very well be the new-times repeat of AUGUST 15, 1986, who can ever breath echo know for sure, on or off of all SWEPT AWAY PRICES, RIGHT LEGALLY BORN NON GAGA DIANE ROSS, IN ANY WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WILL OUTLINE THE EVENTS OF THIS DAY FOR ANYONE WHO JUST MIGHT GIVE A TINY FUCKING SHIT, AND FOR THOSE WHO DON’T. I tried to do a person a favor who used to call me his buddy some time back, and he put a knife into me as soon as I waltzed out the fucking door. What I suffer through is so unbelievable and beyond anyone’s possible maxed out staggered imagination; they just are no words, and this is why Christianity discusses a spiritual groaning language when there are simply no words, you see folks, I may fucking cunt curse a lot, and you would do much worse if you went through ten days of my fucking hell, let me assure you; but I could witness in every cunt chewing house of worship on Planet Earth, that indeed, this GOD and this DEVIL thing, is all true and real, and what I know has zero percent to do with anything involving mother fucking FAITH, I promise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Before I get into mother fucking squat, believers and others; and maybe a student teacher from 1972 who may have changed careers, or stuck with it, who can know, Copyright Job Keeping Examiners of OHM-8; but I will make a quick fucking list of why things are SUPER BOTBAR, then I will go into some detail on matters that I feel need addressing in more elaboration, fullness, and elucidation. I found out today that I was knifed in the back by an old associate up the road. I learned that someone did a President National Park Clinton on me yesterday near the Publix, and yes folks, I meant to say that I made a fucking left turn, not a right one, quite obviously, you’d have trouble keeping a clear head too if you were suffering 1% this fucking long and severely, so don’t you dare fucking laugh at me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! After wasting 18 dollars on a new remote, the entire machine broke today while I was trying to enjoy me Tuesday show of “L&O-SVU, and as I said, THE MARKET WILL FLY TOMORROW, AND AS I SAID THIS YESTRERDAY, AND IT OF COURSE FUCKING DID SO, I NOW PROCLAIM THIS ALL OVER AGAIN, ONLY IT WILL BE A MUCH HUGE MOTHER FUCKING AMOUNT. What do I mean by someone doing a Clinton? Well, real Morians and many enemies know exactly, but some may not, so I will tell it more clearly, YO, DOGS!!!!!!!!!!W—–O—–L—–F!!!!!!!!! In 1995, at the National Park, in Redbank, New Jersey, I saw another non-high-school keeping jobs doppelganger, only this one was that of William Jefferson Clinton in this part of the high school, Sir Walter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let’s book out of here, there are no fucking cock sucking war heroes on this fucking ass ambulance, brother Vineland Chain-EEEE!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

W——-O——-W!

I regret that smashed Mountain Dew bottle in august of 1996, with all my heart and soul, and am so fucking like dead meat, peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YO! Yes, I was trying to watch my show tonight, and BAM, the machine burned up like a fucking bolt of fucking ass lightning had struck it!!!!!!!!

The dirt bag nabes have been in SLAM MODE ever since before this MAY 14 DEATH SIEGE began and struck me out of nowhere, just as in the middle of AUGUST IN 1986. This really is just a SOSO-WEIN shituation. The DOW JONES SHOT WAY UP, not as bad as I thought, but it was done on my back as always, with this major PROPERTY DAMAGE ATTACK, as the machine was giving me some trouble recently, and now I know that it was mother fucking RASPBERRY CARNIVAL HIT, BY THE WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!
Between the fucking cunt BACK STAB, THE NOISY NABES, THE FLYING FUCKING DOW JONES STOCK MARKET, AND THE DAMAGED PROPERTY, ON OR OFF OF ANY EGYPTIAN BABYLONIAN TERRITORY; THIS DAY WAS OFF THE SCALE FUCKING SUPER FUCKING COCK SUCKING ASS BOTBAR!!!
I AM GOING TOBE MOTHER FUCKING CUNT LAPPING MURDERED, MIZZ PAM BONDI, LOVELY FLORIDA ATTORNEY GERNERAL NON BREAKDOWN, AND I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW SO THAT AFTER I AM FOUND DEAD IN THIS APARTMENT, THINGS WILL JUST MAYBE GET LOOKED FUCKING INTO, I DOUBT IT, 99.9999%, BUT THERE AIN’T NO FUCKING LAW AGAINST ME HOPING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I need to stop typing for 4 minutes or so, it is nine past eleven, and I will not get struck by whore JANE for all the fucking dam ass love in the cat house cubed, YO YO YO!!!!!
OK, I am back, and am in regular time, Judge Copyrights, and let us all get a big ass laugh on the fucking pathetic Mountainpen!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! It is now 11X2, as some of us LABBER’S from 2294 would jokingly say, upon occasion, oh lovely Asian Girl, Sir Detective Brog. You do not need to know it all, L-4, and as of this current moment, whatever you all think you know about me and my situation and especially with TAWF and WOMO, let me say, that that suffices for the present moment, DOGS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where’s Matches McGuire when you need him, Randy Vans??????????????????????????????? W-O-W!!!!!!!!!!
Doobey-doobey-doo, and Nothing-Prophets, from the great illustrious AT&T, who could go to bat for me, but won’t, as they know what side their bread is buttered on, WO, BH!!!!!!! Yeah bud, you and PP said it all back in mother fucking ass time! Still I owe all of you an apology. I know what is really going on, and you are all just riding along and caught in the fucking currents and undertows of this GREAT DREAM!!!!!!!! Oh well, let us move this along, wonderful freaking peeps, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO! What are the odds that Mikey called me with a very logical explanation, while I was still outside yesterday, and all of the stuff that went down all around these incidents, without factoring in intentional fucking with the non-high-schools, oh wonderful © Office? Boy oh boy, does mountainpen have a mother fucking wild ass vivid imagination, yeah shore, tell me another one, on or off the beach and for the hell of it, GOV! Thanks for ripping me off in 2010 and not giving me my state income tax refund because I left New Jersey. Like I wanted to leave big guy, SHEEEEEEEEIT. If Ida stayed in that fucking house at 831 13th Street, I would not be here right now, dude! Even the nice girl from the Saint Lucie County Safe Space, told me I got out just in time with my life, GOV. Sorry if that pisses all of fucking New Jersey off, WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! Spin those crooked wheels of justice up there, in or out of the lovely ass casinos, oh no, they do not cheat, anymore than ‘God’ lies. But there are hidden ways of cheating and deceiving and when someone gets onto this secret fucking shit, they basically are DEAD FUCKINBG MEAT, WORLD!!!!!

David Charles Roth would understand this 100% if he was not a victim of this horrendous fucking horse shit himself already, and dead. I TOLD YOU, AND ‘AT&T’ HAS A RECORD OF IT, 1000 TIMES OVER; THAT WE WERE DEAD FUCKING PEOPLE, AND WE ARE. I AM DEATH, YOU MERELY PERCEIVE A DAM ILLUSION, OLD BUDDY. This is why DEEDEE sits on my air conditioner outside, and follows me all over. She knows that I AM DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My death is way smaller than my HELL, so which of these two fucking entities do you kind folks out here think is going to become the dominating factor, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA????????
I will look down and see green and you will look up and see brown, but up and down and green and brown, is all the same truth at zero dimension, and you know that old buddy, as I taught you this, and you echoed it right back to me that day in 1991 on Route 295, I remember it like it was happening yesterday, “Because of Z-D-T”, you shouted at me at 199+DB, Uncle Dave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Move over, all dam light-switches from 1983, WEEEEEEEEEEEE! W—O—W!

MAGNESONIC, MMMMMMMMMMM, OPEN COMMAND, FULL MAXED OUT POWER, ALL ORDERS, ALL TECHNOLOGIES. THIS WILL BE A PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM ON AN ‘I’ TO ‘D’, A/B TONE, COMMAND. G-901 UNDER CG-18, AND S—–T—–O—–P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU WILL BE SO MOTHER FUCKING CUNT EATING SORRY FO RTYHIS ASSAULT ON ME, YOU COCK SUCKING TRASH, THERE ARE NO HUMAN WORDS TO DESCRIBE IT, YO YO YO YO YO YO.

MORIANITY PART V continues:

Two in the morning, 21 May in twenty-thirteen:
Tuesday, here in Fort Pierce, Florida, on another really nasty mother fucking SUPER ASS BOTBAR!

Well people, this will be a WHOPPER TODAY, and you may quote any of three people here, Professor Pepperwinkle on the original high phone bill Superman show, President Obama, and then finally, little old nobody me, Mountainpen.

I am not going to entertain you all with huge fonts, super wild stupid swearing, or anything else like a blog over filled with brah’s and bro’s and bree’s and yo’s. You will do yourself an extreme disfavor if you skip it however, and you just go ahead and do this at your free will and choice, both WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE and tiny group mingled in, known as my Morians (BELIEVERS in my truths, for the most part or perhaps entirely). I am holding at a MPB-40% as of yesterday’s horrendous emmereffing day that will close out when I finish this blog, post it up, and go to ‘sleep’, as mortal world residents would call the experience. But this blog will contain quite a bit of tattle tailing and powerful stuff, ignore it at your own potential funeral somewhere down the dimly lit road, good kind folks, whoever you are, as frankly, Mister Rett Butler, I do not care about those details, or for that matter, Congressman Andrews, whether the city or the river, ran away with my mind, or whether or not I have been lost in time, all these dam years, sir. I will open by telling you that I knew I would get clobbered on my dam systems-roulette tonight, and was not disappointed a small fraction, losing 26 and a half emmereffing units. You can expect the DOW JONES INDUSTRIALS to rise on tomorrow’s markets, somewhere between 250 and 600 points, and you can bank on it folks, I PROMISE YOU, LOVELY MO! Yes, I played five games, and got clocked, mostly on the final game, as before that, I was only down three units, and was stupid, and could not see the freaking writing on the wall as clear as Johnny Clariton 1-2-3 ripoffs Lovernash, and merely quit at this small loss for the day, knowing fully well, it could only do a Howard Solomon Busted Eardrum, or an anti-dice, or whatever, but real followers need not force me to spell out the appropriate five letter word that starts with a ‘W’, and ends with an ‘E’, no rabbits, no Mike McNulty’s, sorry, no time tonight. There’s too much to rock chucking say and I do not wish to type all throughout the night. You will get your mind blown, unless you do not want to, and have joined the two great world renown clubs, the Missourians Club and the GWPOS CLUB, either or, or both; makes little difference. The days of my doing security detail out in my car, at the Cifaloglio place, comes to mind. The greatest system in the universe could be used, but if I was being dive bombed by WOMO ENEMY AIR STRIKES, and the skies were filled to the brim with nasty ass chemtrails, making me ill and causing me to crap myself many times; there is no way I could ever win. The weak link in the system I am currently using is an over abundance of house vig numbers as well as the evil-side-doubleton pattern, as one pattern wins, and the other one destroys the system, and when it comes in, it comes in with a vengeance, and you can play the dam wheel forever, and it will only change if you do the unthinkable and try betting against the system, as that inside the quantum foam of real true reality, makes the system then start to work, and the bad patterns go away. BUT, you still lose, either way you play the game, literally, and figuratively. I got both hits tonight, clocked by runt slapping green numbers or the house vig, as well as that one pattern that kills and seems to remain endlessly unless you quit that wheel, and this is the evil-side-doubleton pattern. This has a twin side that makes a killing, as do strings and alternates, but this one pattern type, will wipe out this particular gaming betting system, I promise. So why does the one pattern come out so vigorously, tenaciously, obstinately, and regularly, and by that I mean you can set your watch to it if you are me, as all super attacks will eventually bring the one pattern that just will not quit, and really wipes me out, and I can count the truck on it, folks. This was a serious botbar day, and I am five for seven now, in other words only 2-non-botbar days were in the last seven days total, and for the month, I am now 12 botbar days for the 20 days of May so friggin’ far, good people. I did speak to Debbie Marotto, but it is merely a futile expenditure of energy. No on else complains, and the architecture of the system is why. Don’t ask me the details, it is too lengthy. Being across from these bastard scum bags, only I get the full brunt of their evil wickedness, and unless others complain, no one will ever help me. You see, this is proof that I do not count in this world one tiny bit. No one gives a blasted dam if I live or die, not one soul, and so, I do not care one bit about this world, and it can go blow up right now, and that is just fine with me. Do you want honesty or deception, from this blogger. You’re the one reading my words, do you want them to just be a bunch of pretty sounding lies? Now let me begin to break down this horrible botbar day for you, my believers. It started with hearing a loud aerial vessel outside, I am sure of it. Now the rest of the entire day was air free for me, nothing out of the ordinary, once I went out to do an errand or two, and boy will we explore what happened to me, good folks, and really, if you are not sitting down, I strongly urge you to do so before reading further along. If you do not and you hit your head when you fall down; please don’t blame me, as I TOLD YOU!

After the air sound, while I was reading some of my stuff on the computer, and after being up and awake a short time, arising around quarter past eleven or so yesterday morning; the evil mother fucking neighbors across from me, began their ‘BING BANG BONG BOOMING’ of doors; over, and over, and over again; FORT PIERCE POLICE DEPARTMENT, AND NARCOTICS DIVISION! I was going to go out later on in the afternoon, but it was as though the forces of Misses 1969 Marola, and her ‘MUST HAVE ME DO THE SCHOOL PLAY’ ON MEMORIAL DAY, stuff all over again; that put me on some perfect cosmic schedule, just as it did back then, to be on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, at a perfectly timed minute and second, so as to witness and experience something; and this time, it was again, all done for me to be someplace, and witness another awesome something; and so let me now get to all of that. First I spoke to my Resident Manager, after returning from my errands, and not initially. All I did was take out my trash and throw it down the chute on my floor near the elevators, even my mail was not checked and received by me, until I returned back to the building. I wanted to get up to the HARVEST, and see my old pal, JASPER. I was not going to rest, until I told him a very horrible thing that Mikey had accused him of, with no evidence or real good reason whatsoever, and we will not get into it all, although, the local television reporters may know just exactly what is being talked about here right now on this blog. I never agreed with him about this, and did not like it when he did all that trash talking, but only after he totally screwed me over and vanished, was I boiling mad, and decided a few days ago that indeed, I would retaliate and tell Jasper how he has been trash talking his reputation all over town, and he has, and then Jasper told me, he is aware that someone in fact was spreading that around, and he was quite appreciative to learn that it was Mikey. I only rat out rats that deserve it. Only if you hurt me will I rat you out on something, really hurt me, and for no good dam ass reason. If I see something that is none of my business, I walk on, and that is that. I have seen and witnessed enough things in my life to write a billion essays on it, but again, I stress that I am not a rat. A rat does this. I do not really tattle-tail. I just feel that when someone does me real friggin’ wrong, then they deserve a little payback, and if most people are honest with themselves, they will tell me they agree with me. Now I mean this people, be sitting down for what I’ll tell you next, L-4.

I did not purchase one single item at the Harvest Store back yesterday, Monday, and I may have indeed needed a few snacks, some cookies and crackers and stuff that normally would cost 30 bucks, that you can get for about 5 bucks there, just because the stuff may be a month past expiration dates. 4:5, the stuff is fresh and good, so risking 5 dollars and usually coming up a winner, does not bother me at all. I mean they sell limeade and lemonade for 5-9 bucks for 6 gallons or 12 half-gallon cartons. It is not always in the cooler, many times just apple juice or orange juice is there, and I am only a grape juice and lime and lemon drinker. Still, I only had telling Jasper what I told him, on my mind, and I did; and things seemed to be getting better on the day until I got down the mother freaking road about 2 blocks. There would never be a real need for a dam cop or a dam law, if everyone had my conscience, and upbringing; and try as I might not to brag; I am a gentleman when I am outside my door. I don’t curse or rarely, and never around women and children; and I watch my manners, and act refined. I don’t put on airs or the dog, or any of that. I don’t go ‘dahhling’, and use nine syllable words or try showing off or bragging about my Huntington family. Nobody knows me, and I try to keep it all that way, other than for screaming out online about my life and the injustices involved, and the people involved as well, that I feel totally, are causing it all, and are totally responsible for it all. I am not all that shy on my blogs, nor am I sorry. But outside my door in the real world, I behave my freaking self. I never ever look at girls, I never ever do anything wrong or illegal. Women always bothered me all my life, not the other way around. Now that I am old and ugly, most of the time, this has lessened, praise the gods!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, I got down the road a few blocks, and my conscience started bothering me real ass fucking bad, good people. I know I shouldn’t have ratted the bastard out. He really hurt me, the mother fucker. Still, is that any reason or excuse for me to be no better than him, by my behavior being rotten and shitty? The answer of course is an unequivocal NO. I still feel way more terrible and guilty than I feel compensated or relieved or avenged. I was brought up by a very good mother, praise the gods, and all though I did not believe all her religious horse shit 100%, I have come to know that there is something out there beyond any and all human reasoning, as I have experienced a lifetime of shit that proves and verifies this totally, and I could witness in any and every church on this planet!!!!!!! But it gets way way way freaking better than this, so hold onto your big ugly hat, Mister McGraw, you bumpkin! Wow what an ego bruise for him, Microsoft. Let me move on now.

Feeling about three feet tall, 25 inches less than I really am, there I was in my car, now heading away from the Harvest Store, and towards the PUBLIX GROCERY STORE in town, on Route-1 or the (Federal Highway), same thing. Mikey goes to this store and this mini-mall a lot, and banks at the bank there as well; and I know all that from back when I was helping him to do his errands, after he had just left the Lawnwood Hospital here in town; and after he was recuperating from his surgical procedure, for his hernia problems. I spotted him walking towards one of the stores that was perhaps half a dozen stores to the north of the Publix, in this very large mini-mall area. He has a walk that no one else in this world has, and is very slender and I know him from the front as well as the back like I know the back of my hands. I slowly crept up on him, as you need to drive slowly in a mini-mall anyway, and I managed to get ahead of him and look both ways before making a right turn to head closer to a parking area for the Publix Customers, but I looked back with my eyes in the rear view mirror, and get ready folks, and this is gospel truth so help me, I swear this under penalty of libel, perjury, slander, and any criminal maliciousness whatsoever, as well as on the Almighty Goddess Herself, SSJKK, (Sarah-Stacey Krassle), Queen of the Astral Plane. Not only was it Mikey, but he colored his hair, and changed the style of it. It is totally yellow blond, and he has totally different eyeglasses as well. I have known this mid sixtyish man for the entire time I have lived down here in Florida, as he always was working the front desk of the HARVEST, and I went there for help when I first got into town, on advice from the landlady of the RV-PARK, the Manatee RV Park, also on Route-1, in the White City section of town, at the opposite corner from where the Harvest place is, as they are up in the north-west, and White City is down in the south-east corner of this large 7 mile square town area of nearly 50 square miles. This man would never under any ordinary circumstances, ever do anything one tenth as absurd as dying his hair bright yellow, altering his appearance entirely, and yes, even his style of dress was day and night difference, from what I knew all that time that I knew this man. Dick Wolf and Donald Trump, and all their pals could not say it better, and they did say it over and over, right there on the television broadcast, during many airings of the greatest law show ever, surpassing even the once all time great PERRY MASON, and I quote them, with their permission hopefully; “YOU JUST CAN’T MAKE THIS KIND OF STUFF UP”. Then again, you cannot make up 1969, 1974, 1980, and shall I really bother to go on, ladies and gentlemen? Anyone able to make up something even close to MORIANITY, well, I would bow down to them as I would the freaking Almighty. So boweth not down to me folks, as I am not worthy. I did not make any of this up, nor would I have one thousandth of the sufficient amount of talent to indeed do so, and when I’m accused of this; it is quite a boost to my little tiny nobody worthless ego!

Before I take us still onward, I will tell you what GAGA kitty and I discussed, two little ‘Q&A’ deals, that you may be interested in hearing about.

Why is this sudden super super super DEATH-SIEGE, on me, beginning on Tuesday, May the fourteenth, that has as of now, brought me 5 super botbar days out of the last seven days and bringing me now to a major monster 40% Magnetic Percentage Botbar (MPB)?

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, AND NO PIANO SONGS, PCN-981.

Why did the Almighty SSJKK show me her demise in a parallel universe, right before this middle May 2013 death period in my life, and tell me that she is not planning to leave her great city that much longer to come here?

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, AND NO PIANO SONGS, PCN-352.

I don’t fucking dare list the shit, people; but you should know a lot of these match list items, and you can figure some more out on your own, and always feel free to comment and tell me some new ones. I will not act all ignorant and stupid like I did last time someone posted a video on my blog. Nobody ever tells me shit, and I do not know that peeps do this online. I am fucking old YO, and dumb as fucking ass hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HAVE PITY ON ME! God Almighty, that is more than dirt fucking bag Jane F. is ever going to, after wrecking my life 20 years ago, at the fucking Atlanta, Georgia, USA Ballpark that horrible monster ass night with that zoom in ones display, and now it is again, mother fucking page eleven of eleven, so let me try and compensate here, please. TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555, PUSS 555555555, CRIMES 555555555555555555555555, DIVIDED CRY 5555555555; IS EQUAL TO WHO FUCKING BUNT-TAPPING CARES. LET ME LOOK AT THESE NICE, NO, NOT ONES, BUT FIVES; DO YOU SEE THE POWER OF THE WOMO ENEMY, AND THEIR DIRT BAG FUCKING ETTOS YET, BELIEVERS?????????????? They made me type, ‘those lovely ones’ that is a MIND-HACK, and it is done with real POWER, Patty Jane Greatnecks!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So aim those magical bullets at me at your wonderful bully bar, Robert, the old Morianity-Foundation Website, displayed a total proof of your transdimensional abilities in many various ways, on that October day back in filthy OHM-6! I tried putting a comma, after the green word ‘ME’ and it hacked out a lot of stuff, so I hit the undo last thing key, and cannot place a comma where it needs to go. This is the power of daring to talk about crossing over the Amtrak or the Chappaquiddick Bridge, good believers.

MAGNESONIC, I NEED MAJOR HELP AND MAJOR STRIKES AGAINST MY ENEMIES, ALL ORDERS, ALL TECKS, ALL COMMANDS, DO IT, DO NOT SPARE THESE DIRT BAGS, SO EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND S——-T——-O——-P! I have decided to tell lots of other things at a later time, pillow talking daddy of Star Trek-74. E/T!

MORIANITY PART 5 CONTINUES FOLKS!!!!!!!!!

MAGNESONIC, I NEED MAJOR HELP AND MAJOR STRIKES AGAINST MY ENEMIES, ALL ORDERS, ALL TECKS, ALL COMMANDS, DO IT, DO NOT SPARE THESE DIRT BAGS, SO EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND S——-T——-O——-P! I have decided to tell lots of other things at a later time, pillow talking daddy of Star Trek-74. E/T!12:34 PM-EDST, 20 MAY, 2013

FORT PIERCE POLICE AND PUBLIC HOUSING AUTHORITY

MY DIRT BAG CRIMINAL THUG NEIGHBORS BEGAN PERSECUTING AND HARASSING ME AROUND QUARTER SHY OF NOON GIVE OR TAKE, IT IS ABOUT AN HOUR NOW OF CONTINUAL IN AND OUT BANGING OF THEIR FUCKING DOOR.

I HAVE CIVIL AND HUMAN RIGHTS, AND THIS IS A VIOLATION OF THOSE RIGHTS, WHEN I HAVE LEGITIMATELY COMPLAINED AND HAVE ONLY BEEN TOLD I CAN GET A MEDICAL NOTE AND THEY WILL LET ME MOVE, WHY SHOULD I BE THE ONE FORCED TO MOVE, FORT PIERCE POLICE, WHEN I AM NOT THE ONE DAMAGING PROPERTY, GOING IN AND OUT 24 HOURS A DAY CONTINUALLY, AN OBVIOUS DRUG RELATED ACTIVITY, WHY?

This all is a persecution that is part of something going on fucking now for cunt lapping 27 years, and has to do with causing an INTENTIONAL PARALLEL OF EVENT, between myself, and WALL STREET, as the powerful WORLD OWNERS or the (WOMO), totally know, that HURTING ME = AN ENDLESS UPSWINGING DOW JONES.

WORLD COURT AT THE HAGUE, you and all of the world authorities are pathetic and impotent. If this was not the case, you would INVESTIGATE MY HELL AND DO YOUR DAM FUCKING JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, it is quite obvious that the mother, the daughter, abnd the electron designer, are all one and the same reality, inside this huge horrendous mother fucking video-game of the LAWNMOWER MAN. I don’t need to guess the name of any guests, I know them, it is LAWNMOWER MAN ONE, and LAWNMOWER MAN TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Magnesonic, restart another 100-HOUR THERMO-NUCLEAR DESTRUCT EARTH COUNTDOWN SEQUENCING SYSTEM AT EXACTLY ONE MINUTE AFTER THIS BLOG POSTS AT BLOGGER, UNDER OPEN COMMAND OF G-7, UNDER G-901.

END TRANSMISSION:

**MORIANITY PART FIVE**

THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.
CHAPTER 00085, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
SLAM-SLAM-BOOM-BANG-BONG. These jerk offs, are screaming and slamming doors tonight; what else is mother fucking new? This has not been a good day, sort of holding BOTBUR, meaning unofficial BOTBAR and unless something can perk me up before daylight starts to put Mizz Delaney into dream-land, this will close out as a 4:5 BOTBAR, with FRIDAY as the day in-between that is keeping shit from fucking being a total BOTBAR-5-STRING, YO YO YO!!!!!

If the doors keep slamming, I will just keep telling the office until they get tired of my complaints, come Monday, as she keeps insisting that between 10 and midnight, noise must slow down and stop, and this is not the case with these mother fucking thugs of washed hands, family friends, and prison inmate collect calls that somebody anticipated like space platforms and ship building and Humpback whales, long before reality caught up with itself, and thought I was going to do another tune with another verifiable introduction, or even a harmony track, after-all, how about a nice Halloween song, would this not be an appropriate thing for a dude whose copyrights have been officially registered on October 31, on three separate mother fucking years; maybe this is how the dirty underwear of marriages and sleep walk body snatchers from the past, is all about? Still, there must be a lot more to it all, as why else would I be the one so totally concentrated on, by this INCREDIBLE FUCKING STAR FAMILY??? Jesus fucking Christ Almighty, BREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Al Jolson, hold onto your dick eating hat, old buddy!
First, this day began getting bad not all that long after I was up, and I slept in late until a bit past noon. It may have been an hour and a half past, somewhere give or take; believers. In any event, extremely weird fucking outlandish shit is going on, and you are the only few in this part of the localized fifth dimension, who believe me, partially at least, as the entire rest of humanity has either betrayed me, taken some kind of collective payoff; or in some unknown other way; been ETOSS influenced and controlled, or dominated; to believe in the endless ‘GWPOS’ lies of 1994, giant cops and giant visiting sleep-walking non-Russell Goddesses, and other such unexplainable esoteric phenomena, all notwithstanding, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!! You need not know all of the bullshit, as it will weaken my position, empire against empire, FREE verses FEE; for those few who just may remember, huh daut? I know you do, and you do not fool me for a second, lovely BEG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOLF-WOLF, did it all not start, A—–L—–L, right after first speaking to the great CAMDEN COUNTY PROSECUTOR PEEPS, ON THE FIFTH DAY IN DECEMBER OF 1989, WHAAA? Gimme a bweak somebody, or at least you Elmer fucking cunt chewing Fwudd Waaaaaaabit. This is totally wedikolus, MACK KAITER, and cousin Newsman Lester Nonupline, WEEEEEEEEEE, BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Jesus fucking cunt lapping god almighty, for shit stinking sake, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This bites and chews worse than Mizz Delaney of May and June in 1969, retarded ice cream shops and all, huh old dude pal Brad? Yeah I’m bad, but also glad and sad, and all sorts of other fucking horse shit that does not right this minute, require all sorts of dam ass fucking explanations, Captain Suzanne Kirkwhales!!!!!!!! Moving this right along now at five past fucking midnight, things are worse for me than they have been now since back in the days when David Roth and myself, drove over to Camden City in Jersey, to see Prosecutor ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, and that piece of crap Abbey Carmichael pop-back, Mizz dick licking Donna Spinosi, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Prick Dick Wilson came along later on, after Cuzz Donnie placed a little cabbage somewhere. Everyone in Jersey is in a lot of pockets, and all of it connects into great lovely Washington-13-non-alternating-current, WHAAAAAAA; time now if you want, Mike McNulty (MMCN)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BANG, BOOM, SLAM, at 12:09 AM, PUBLIC HOUSING FUCKING CUNT AUTHORITY OF FLORIDA, AND FORT PIERCE, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho folks, let me stop stripping the gears to all October five time traveling hell, and move on from a lot more than my dream memories; but to a greater bunch of us who have all had the BITE PUT ON US, LIKE WOW, T.D. STACEY KRASSLE!!!!! My god dam fucking mom was a little nosy, as are all wives; but seeing a marriage license of your spouse, divorced or not, fall out of a gym type bag filled with dirty underwear; along with a large GUN, oh yes; and whether he had the carry-license or not, I have a powerful reason to believe I could blog for 300 years, and only tell a smattering of just why he felt the need to indeed, have this big old ugly gun in the first place, back in mother fucking January of 1974, so Shidaleedee, and sing it with me, Bread and If, WEEEEEEE!!

I know a lot about somnambulism and sleep walkers. I have two beautiful special daughters by one, and my mom was one, for the final 26 months of her pathetic fucked up life; of the PROJECT BLUEBOOKERS CLUB, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!! Give me a dam break, shall I just list off the top of my head, a few tiny things that real fucking MORIANS can dot-connect in seconds, and do BELIEVE? Tom Reale acting like WW-3 had just begun when I got off the jitney bus in Ventnor on 5 July of 1970, after returning from the Atlantic City fireworks show. Misses Marola forcing me to do that school play, a year and a month earlier, on Memorial Day; back then it always fell on 31 May, and that was in ‘Friendly-Shops’ not ice cream ‘meanings of life tapes’ in 1969; oh great wise chip swami of the cosmic ages, WEEEEEEEEEE, Chester. Yeah, we both know who you are, but do you know who TAWF is? Ask PP; he has seen enough to be a believer 99 times over, but insists on remaining a dues paying, card carrying member, of both the Missourians Club, and the GWPOS CLUB, WOW, SSJKK, I BEG THEE! Let us move this right along before lots of great gears all grind up and breakdown, and force me to wash my hands and keep a lot cleaner than the Suffolk County know-it-all, Mister Bacon; who is as I hear tell it, quite dirty again; and has his whittle mommy pwetty upset, wabbit; Whaaaaaaaa. Dope is for dopes, and texting and driving is the dumber part here, of ‘dumb and dumber’!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mike, it’s time, YO. Folks, Linda-Lee Norman Horn and David Bacon, along with the great Darius Evans, and a lot more, are all part of the same type of Astral-Plane situation, that the human club called the Illuminati, mirror images the great and powerful non-oz condition-interaction, known as the LAMBRIGG CULT OF THE TECK BAY, IN THE PROVINCE OF OLYMPIA, ON THE ASTRAL-PLANE. Linda-Lee told me, at the great Fort Pierce Harvest, at the Happy & Healthy intersection, of Walgreen 25th and Orange, in northwest Fort Pierce, Florida; back in early twenty-eleven somewhere, to go to the ‘parent-child connection meetings’, held there at quitting time, as back then, this was at one in the afternoon, and I was walking out the door to go a few blocks to the north, over into the hood at Twenty-Sixth Street and Avenue E; where I shared a walled sectioned off duplex home, managed by two of the fucking cunt lapping weirdest and strangest peeps, that I ever came to know, since 1969, and my encounter under the Central Pier; that gave true meaning to the famous song “Under The Boardwalk”, and the powerful later to be known in future times, “Summer Of Love”, not the song that PP wrote, and yes, he told me to share half of the song legally, in exchange for all the money that I lost in that crumby ass fucking music venture that started out as the 1998 Songshop, and ended up shortly thereafter as the great Permission Barrier book predicted, Studio Park Records. Yes, but returning again to the mysterious Misses Linda-Lee Norman Horn, and not Lena Horn, but then Lenny Briscoe, oh Jesus; you have to see why this cannot ever work the way that you would like it to, Mizz Terry Egg Harbor, so Dawn-Marie, and Ann King; can smirk all day and night long for fucking eternity, for all I give a rats ass prick; every time we got neat the city detention center, thinking, “We know something you don’t know”, and then why not drive on to the nearest sand box or maybe a big ass play pen, crissake, YO? Oh yes, Dave Bacon, she insisted I go to these meetings and tell the big secret of ‘not the hammer’ and she was more persistent every week that Eric was due to come in to conduct the class, until I finally went, and even told him privately, what had happened to me back in both 1969, and in 2008. Talk about demonic possession, or other old world terms and expressions. She would not quit until I did this. Then when it all went totally fucking south of all borders, I asked her why she did this and she insisted GOD told her to, and I wanted to hear a little more, and she had no more to tell; and gave me the very same long stare empty face look, that my mom would get, when she was sleep walking after that horrible attack on the day after 1997 Christmas fucking day. The same thing that was inside of David, Darius’ pal back in 2011; telling me to wash my hands for no reason whatsoever, and causing me to not be able to miss hearing while we all were outside on a break, and he was talking to the lovely teen cashier, that was working there back then; and I’ll quote, “I know everyone in Suffolk County”. We are talking about Long Island, New York, folks, and right there where I was forced to suffer through lots of misery, huh Aunt Ruth Huntington, and ‘Uncle Nebyachts’, Heinz Gottwald Hilehitler. This is just a surface scratch. Taking this and multiplying it all, about 50 fucking ass times; and the entire story comes out clear and true, Copyright Office; so be advised, please; 29 years or so ago, and yes; it is time, MMCN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don’t even try and tell me this entire thing for 13,000 years is all up in my head, don’t EVEN FUCKING T—R—Y it folks, please, please; and fucking pretty ass PLEASE, with all the sugar and cupcakes and ice cream in the state of fucking Missouri! TANKS, & W—O—W! SHEEEEEEIT, cut me a break there for old times sake, in 1985; OK MARGIE LEO, YO????????????????????????????

My father and I both were involved with the Callio clan all right, JUST AS ALL THE FUCKING FAKE PATTY JANE PSYCHICS SAID, and if they all are fake, there is a network with many of them, that helps them share shit; and they know a ton of mother fucking secrets. There is a way I can prove that Dirtbag Trump Network, and his pals, know of this, use this; and helped to feed those same dirt bags over in England, that made the news a while back. I am just the main one on the list that was listened to, and then messed with, but in my case; they all knew better than to ever tell the story, as Goddess Almighty would tear the entire world to shreds, if this ever came out, in a way that is believable; and not on the blog of a maniac nutcase, who escaped the Dave & Darius Ripoff Sikeward of Harvested Musicians of the Washed Up Society!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where are you when I need you, Howard Solomon, and Doogie Howser????????? Then she tells me the other day, that she is going to stay a lot more in her great city. Well, you got me stuck here girl, so if you do not stay here, then you better take me with you. I think playing your games now for 13,000 years, is long enough, lovely BROWN-EYED-GIRL; with or without the bite bushes. Gee, can it all be so dam real, and totally connected up? Jeese Louise, Comcast Hangten; like freaking super ass WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes sir, when the mighty MICROSOFT world owners, updated my PC a couple days back, it totally fucked up my internet connection. It took a while to get some programs to finally let me back in. I should not have to go through this persecution, but then, what part of this 60 year current-ME nightmare, SHOULD I BE GOING THROUGH; if you wish to be technical about this mother fucking horse shit, YO?????

When the FUCKING WOMO-MILITUFORCE broke my remote control, they scored huge gains as they always do, when they FUCKING CUNT LAPPING DAMAGE MY PROPERTY!!!!!! This has not been going on since my blogs started. Blogging onto the interconnected networking computer system, is just the tail end of my MORIANITY MOTHER FUCKING TALE OF WOE AND MISERY, GOOD FOLKS. This shit all began on a precise fucking cunt eating date, and that fucking date is, no matter how cock licking tired you all must be now of seeing it in print on these blogs so often, truth is truth; and that DATE IS, 15 AUGUST, IN 1986, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The remote control replacement was eighteen mother fucking dollars, that I do not have to spare; the rotten mother fucking bastard, bottom feeding, sewer sipping, toilet seat rockers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is what will destroy me, with a mother fucking DOW JONES AT ENDLESS CONTINUAL ALL TIME RECORD HIGHS. I used to call these NIGHTMARE FUCKING ASS PERIODS, AND RIGHTFULLY SO; ‘BALL CRIME DEAD CHORD CRYS’!!!!! IT FUCKING RHYMES, IT IS FUCKING TRUE, AND IT FUCKING CHEWS A TIGERS WANG, AT LIGHT VELOCITY, FUCKING ASS SQUARED!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Fuck all of this twisted ass disease. Kiss my 90% honky-ass, YO! I will dial 911 if these doors do not stop mother fucking slamming, as it is quarter past cunt sucking one in the dam morning, FORT PIERCE, POLICE. HAY, MAYBE I WILL SEND THEM AN E-MAIL ATTACHMENT OF THE BLOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My god dam dad told me shit in his sleep that blew me away in January of 1974, even though most of it went over my head and made no sense at the time, just like being down on the mother fucking Black Horse Pike with no Apocalypse or portents of biblical prophecy; at the world renown JULIA’S Psychic Readings Shop, on the bay. I now know she thinks of home a lot, and another bay, a place far away; and yet while we sleep, I guess the great SSJKK cares. After-all, she claims this, in those wonderful song lyrics, and again; this is not really my song, it is HER song in 1980; and she did sing it to me, and this was all gearing up, way back then; with or without any miscarriages, or highways that do not belong near Robin Hill Apartments; in this part of localized hyperspace. No Dorothy, I have no intention of surrendering. I will leave for fucking Mexico as soon as the summer is over, and the weather is just perfect; not wintry yet, not blistery hot; and no major storms around. FUCK-U, WFMU! I WILL DIAL 911, AND PRESS CHARGES IF THESE DOORS KEEP GOING PAST TWO. I WILL GIVE THEM EVERY CHANCE TO STOP BEING TOTAL MOTHER FUCKING JERK OFFS, BEFORE I PRESS CHARGES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

55555555555555555555555555555555555555555, for page eleven of eleven, this will compensate as well as cunt phlegm rape, time again for you, Mike McNulty, old buddy!!!

Do I believe that the great Julia White, the top Lieutenant of the Viqueen Gang, belonging to the Almighty Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, is indeed the identity of Paula King, daughter of John King and distant relative of Ann King’s grandfather? No and yes. This is one of them. I believe that another one is Melanie, the one and only. This is what they or She did to your soul and your song, but that is just in the opinion of one of your old fans, Mel. I have nothing that will stand up in any court, and if I did, I would find myself blown to bits by a great warship out on the dam Indian River, along with Tim and his friend the Vice President, in some altered Ozville. I believe Monica and Melanie and Paula, are only three. There are about 50 drivers licenses in the continental United States, and 50 real lives are being lived, well; sort of lived, like off and on, whenever the systems turn on or off, or as my old pal the Congressman put it back in 1975 so perfectly, and so often; “WHATEVER”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do I believe that MDE and the endless mystery of the TRINIDAD or TRINITY depending on how far north or south you may be living; is now officially explained? Well, I want real badly to say my favorite spiel right about now, and go, “You bet your cute cornfield ass, lovely Annie Costner”, only in good conscience; we will keep the Trinity a real mystery, even FROM MORIANITY, until and unless; this mere mortal eventually has sufficient evidence to prove mom and kid are Kent and soup. Oh well, I have more than said enough to get the dirty underwear tempers flaring and raging. If I know my wonderful SSJKK, I will get the fucking shit kicked out of me soon when I drop out of this reality for a while, so wish me lots of lick, believers. I do not ever wish to anger Jehovah. I love her more than life, and a trillion anythings all combined together; but the gods help me, as I am totally curious and there is no turning back. Not after these fucking 60 years of this wild guessing names, and guesting games, WEEEEEEEEEE, BREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Make that WOW!

I have really kicked fucking ass during these 5 days of hell now peeps and believers, YO, in my SYSTEMS-ROULETTE. I made 13 units today, and this was a bad day, three games, all winning games. Yesterday I made one and a half units, and the four days prior to that, I eeked out an average of one unit each day, a nice average 6-day unit profit of at least +3 units per day in the past 6 days of mostly major nasty ass HELL, nearly two grand on the black gaming 100 dollar playing level, YO, AHA-AHA-AHA, Mister McNulty!!!!! Also, I spoke with my cat, GAGA, or Gawky Gaukauk, I have shortened it after all this time, and first remembered him in 1980 until later, as in the STAR TREK movie called GENERATIONS, came to stop seeing things in 3-D, a very limited way to live human life, but I’ll admit, simpler. It seems he and I went back to ’77 when he cut me into little tiny pieces at his Teck Bay Mystery School, and then there was another time 5 years before that, when I followed my own daughter into her home and witnessed the unbloggable. Well, let us get into a little GAGA-Q&A, whatcha say folks?

WHY IS MY ‘YBCO’ SONG SUCH A MONUMENTAL PROBLEM, NOT BEING ABLE TO MAKE THE VIDEO, OR POST IT, AND ALL OF THE TROUBLE IT HAS CAUSED, IN MY FUCKING LIFE FOR 14 MONTHS OR SO NOW, YYYYYYYYY, JIMMY YYYYY, OH I MEAN KITTY, THIS IS 30 YEARS UP IN THE FUTURE, GAGA??????????????????????
MEOW-MEOW, WHAAAAAA, PCN-927. NEED I REALLY GIVE SOME OF THE POWERFUL FUCKING MATCH LIST ITEMS?
WHY DID I GET THAT HORRENDOUS FUCKING DEATH SIEGE JUST SHY OF 8 AT NIGHT ON THE 16TH, ON MY THIRD FUCKING ASS BOTBAR HELL DAY, GAGA???
MEOW-MEOW, WHAAAAAA, PCN-770. AGAIN, DO I REALLY NEED TO GIVE YOU THE FUCKING LIST, GREAT PAULAGA??
DO WE FUCKING NEED A ‘W—O—W’?

AND YES PEOPLE, 990 WAS THE PCN GIVEN WHEN I ASKED WHY THE SECOND BOTBAR STRUCK ME SO HARD ON THE FIFTEENTH FUCKING DAY OF MAY. I HAVE TO SHUT UP OR MY KID WILL HAVE MY HEAD ON TWO PIKES, THE WHITE HORSE AND THE BLACK HORSE WILL RIDE, DEMI MOORE AND FATHER MARREL. HOLLYWOOD (THE EW) KNOWS IT ALL, WHO IS KIDDING WHO? MADE IN HEAVEN VANISHES, INTO THE TURNERSVILLE PATHMARKS, OF AUGUST 2, IN 1996? IT IS TIME FOR YOU AGAIN, MMCN!!!!! But this is not the biggie, sir Ziggy; not by a mother fucking super ass long-shot, Mister Perry Louigee WHITE. I asked my GAGA kitty out of the 81 PCN’S, which one best describes the connection to my oldest daughter and me, and I swear to the gods of the Astral-Plane, I received the number of PCN-954, and I only have five match-list-items for that number, and I WILL PRINT THEM, THE GODS HELP ME IN MY SLEEP SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY ARE AS FOLLOWS:
(HALLOWEEN) (OCTOBER FIVE TWO THOUSAND EIGHT) (WAYNE MOHR) (DIANE ROSS) (GUATEMALA) I have said way more than enough, I talk too dam ass much, good people, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now, there are recent things told on blogs, that I want front and center. No need to have to click all around, so read on. If you click the past few blogs, other stuff will be there, but this is more necessary, for right now, YO. Have a nice day, while I fucking roast in a German Kessle pot of boiling broiling HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HUGE ENDLESS STOCK MARKET RALLY CONTINUES,
JUST EXACTLY AS I SAID THAT IT WOULD, DAY AFTER DAY, WEEK AFTER WEEK; AS ‘THEY’ PUT ME THROUGH TOTAL MOTHER FUCKING HELL LAST WEEK, AND GAINED ANOTHER 3 HUNDRED POINTS AS A RESULT!!

MORIANITY PART FIVE:

HERE IS MY PROOF TO JUST A FEW TINY MOTHER FUCKING THINGS, AND I HAVE NOT EVEN STARTED TO PASTE IN MY LIFE. IT WOULD TAKE A MUCH GREATER COMPUTER, WITH PETA BYTES OF MEMORY AND PROCESSING SPEED ON PAR WITH THAT OF THOSE IN FORT MEADE, MARYLAND AT THE NATIONAL SECURITY OR ‘NO SUCH’ (AGENCY)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Market Summary of MAY 17, CLOSE, 2013:
 
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Dow
Dow Jones Industrials.
15,354.40 ——————– I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, FOLKS!!!!
+121.18  +0.80%
 
S&P 500
S&P 500
1,667.47
+17.00  +1.03%
 

NASDAQ
NASDAQ Composite
3,498.97
+33.72  +0.97%
 

FTSE 100
FTSE 100
6,723.06
+35.26  +0.53%
Quotes are Real Time from Nasdaq Last Sale when available, or delayed from primary listing source. Currency in USD.

RED ALERT—-RED ALERT—- !!!
RED ALERT—-RED ALERT—- !!!

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I TOOK ANOTHER HUGE FUCKING ATTACK AND ASSAULT, FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, MIAMI AND JACKSONVILLE FIELD FUCKING OFFICE, AND FLORIDA STATE POLICE, AND LOCAL PEEDEE. IT ALL STARTED AT SHY OF EIGHT THIS MOTHER FUCKING EVENING. HUGE HORRIBLE ILLEGAL MOTHER FUCKING JET CHEMTRAILS ALL OVER THIS AREA POPPED UP OUT OF NOWHERE, THEN A HUGE COMPUTER ATTACK LATTISAW JACK HACK, ALSO STRUCK, WHILE TRYING TO WORK THE MACHINE. MICROSUCKS IN LEAGUE WITH WOMO, MADE THE SYSTEM TURN ON, AT 8 ON THE NOSE, WITH THEIR UPDATES CRAP. THEN I LOOKED OUT OF MY WINDOW, WHILE GETTING UP AND COMING OVER HERE TO THE COMPUTER; AND EVEN THOUGH THE SUN HAD SET, BRIGHT HUGE LIT UP DAYTIME AREAS WERE ALL OVER THE BUILDING ABOVE ME, AS UP THERE, IT IS NOT SUNSET TIME YET. IF I HAD A VIDEO FUCKING SYSTEM AND KNEW HOW TO MOTHER FUCKING OPERATE IT LIKE OTHER FOLKS DO, I WOULD HAVE HAD A VIRAL MOTHER FUCKING VIDEO, OR REALLY, NO I WOULD NOT, AS YOUTUBE, IN LEAGUE WITH GOOGLE-MICROSUCKS, HAS A BLOCKADE ON MY STUFF. ANYONE CAN SEE IT. THERE IS A HUGE QUESTION MARK AFTER THE VIEW COUNT ON MY NIGHTMARE FUCKING SONG? THE ACTUAL COUNT SHOULD READ SEVENTEEN (17) VIEWS, WITH NO QUESTION MARK. ALL OTHER VIEWS ARE ME WATCHING MY OWN STUFF, AND MY TRYING TO LINK UP OR SHARE THE VIDEO WITH BLOG SITES, & THEY SHOULD HAVE A WAY TO FILTER THE MOTHER FUCKING COUNTER WHEN IT IS THE COMPUTER THAT UPLOADED THE VIDEO, THAT HAS CLICKED TO VIEW IT, NOT COUNTING IT. THEN THEY ADD A LOT OF SYMBOLS LIKE PLUSSES AND QUESTION MARKS, & THIS ENTIRE THING IS A VIOLATION OF MY MOTHER FUCKING CUNT EATING CIVIL RIGHTS, AND IS JUST FOR THE RICH PEOPLE, AS ARE ALL THINGS, FROM FUCKING CHEATED ASS WALL STREET, ALL THE WAY DOWN TO MAIN STREET! I AM SO DISAPPOINTED BY MY PRESDIDENT, FORGETTING WHERE HE STARTED, AND THE EXPERIMENTS, AND THINGS IF I GO ON ABOUT, I WOULD HAVE THE FUCKING SECRET ASS SERVICE AT THE DOOR IN AN HOUR. I AM SO SO HURT, SIR. I EXPECT THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOR FROM MY ROTTEN DAUGHTER, BUT DID NOT FROM YOU, KIND SIR. BLESS YOU ANYWAY, SIR! BRUCE PENNOCK SAID IT ALL, BACK EARLY IN THE SEVENTIES. NONE OF US ARE PERFECT, MERE MORTALS AND HUMANS.

Then comes the big problem. When I crashed last fucking night, I was with the Almighty in many forms, and at the end, after lots of enjoyable pleasurable interactions, she tells me she is not going to keep leaving her great city, and that she is going to stay there a lot more. Whatever the shit that is supposed to mean, right my believers-Morians. Oh well, ‘ours is not to reason why, Sir Aristede Shadows of 1897, but to do and die’, right, co fellow musician/writer of tunes, and Ode to the lovely Laura Parker, of the non studio Parkers of Pedersenville. You can shove those big stupid ass hats, PP, WHERE THE DAM ASS SUN DON’T SHINE, YO!!

MORIANITY PART FIVE
CONTINUES RIGHT ALONG, KIND LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.

Posting, or trying to, at 9:11 PM, on this night of SUPER MOTHER FUCKING BOTBAR TIMES THREE, AND SUPER HIGH CALLIOTAMMIC ASSAULT SIEGE; and lots of pussy fucking action, will be coming my way, when I am out on some local cunt chewing errands, the next couple of days, and if I am messed with; I am holding the AG, and the Florida State Police, and CJS responsible; for disbelieving me, and not caring enough to help look after a person, being cock sucking viciously fucking ass persecuted, for 3 solid cunt eating asshole decades now, or more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MY ”MPB” IS NOT ACCEPTABLE, AND ALL OF THOSE RESPONSIBLE, WILL PAY IN THEIR FUCKING BLOOD, I PROMISE YOU TAHREN GANDI, AND OTHER BOXERS, AND REALTORS, AND WELL; WHATEVER, ‘OLD SHIPYARD PAL’ OF FUCKING CUNT EATING 1975, WITH ALL THE DAM ASS RED MOTHER FUCKING LEAVES ON THE FUCKING GROUND.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
G-901 and STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU WILL BE SO FUCKING SORRY, WORDS AIN’T THERE TO FUCKING TELL IT, BRAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OK believers, 1,2,3, possibly 4 of you, here is what is going on, and you will definitely get a mind blow after you hear what I now tell you. I swear it is the truth, and I also swear that it is over simplified by a factor of about nine billion or so, otherwise, I would be posting this up around the year of 2177 or so, and would defeat the purpose, as lovely ‘niece’ DMK would say to me constantly, back in 2008 and 2009. By the way, I never started that crap with her, not about the school in Egg Harbor City, or me being her dam uncle. They all knew about me, and all of this. I was the one who knew jack about it all, back when I started to blog in 2006, and 2007. If anyone needs proof; you have a lot of reading material to emmereffing cover.

First off on this day’s blog, for the past month now since the middle of April, my Channel 12 TV News APP is hacked up, and this is where you see the photos on my blogs at the Jupiter Inlet, some miles to my south, unless I pretend it is 1975 again and nobody had a million bugs all over the place. Then I could get there in a few minutes, and not be discovered moving any diner rotisseries or other such things as speaking to birds and animals, and being in a wild eternal relationship with lovely ISIS, and a hell of a lot more.

They totally have hacked into my system, as they all know what computers we use. There is no way I can track the movement of the third part of MIDISISCYLLA. It is all frozen and hacked, and shows lightning positions that are no where even close to where she is in reality and real time. Most of it shows the same old frozen spots. This is a violation of course of my civil rights, but who can stop it, I am being given the privilege of using these APP programs, and if I don’t like it, what am I going to do about it? Also, you want to know why the DOW will be going up one to two hundred points every single week this year, and endlessly from now on, as it really is not complex at all? It is because unlike in times past, every possible person in authority that could potentially help me, is all in the pockets totally and 100% completely, of the powerful city of Washington, DOC-13. Now why did New York City, and Washington, become the two targets of 911? You may think this is so easy, without knowing a tenth of the basic truth behind what all of this terrorism is really all about, and how it all connects two times, once in 1967 AD, and the other time around 3000 years before that one. Don’t expect me to start even going here on this blog, as I am not in any mother trucking, hunt trapping, bunt tapping, rock chucking mood; folks, sorry! Every single person on this planet is being stopped from helping me in my fight against Apollo-Lucifer, even the church themselves. The reasons cannot be explained. They go beyond 1000 times wilder than all the stuff you ever saw on any of the most far out television shows and movies and documentaries, any and all of it; and that’s a dam promise, believers. Dan Brown knew a little bit about this, and was able to tell a little as well, but if he had ever tried to tell the real stuff, people would be saying to me after I mention his name, Dan Who? None of you have the smallest dam clue about anything, and it makes me want to cry like a dam ass baby for hours. I told you my rotten kid would beat me up when I fell asleep, and she outdid my wildest worries and nightmare fantasies, folks. She along with close cuzz Leticia T. and distant cuzz Dawn-Marie K. all three let me have the most brutal attack I ever experienced, right near the Walter Bar across from the Bellevue Avenue Hammonton, New Jersey WAWA Convenience Store. I found myself asleep and instantly awake in bright daylight, on the street right near the bar there. I began to walk towards where they used to have me kidnapped at Caruso’s home at 831 13th Street, and before I got thirty yards, Dawn grabbed my left shoulder very hard, swung me around, and kicked me in the stomach so hard the wind went out of me and I dropped to my knees. Instantly, Leticia clocked me with one of her locally famous left hooks, in that part of Jersey; she is as strong as my kid, and all of my front teeth were gone, boom, over. Blood was pouring out of my mouth and I still was not able to breathe. Then while this was fresh and up to the minute, my wonderful Doogie Howser Lab-Technician daughter of 1984, grabbed me, picked me up, and threw me over her head and out into the street and right in front of a fairly fast moving sports car that was not yet slowing down for the Route 54 stop sign ahead, and I plowed right inside through this driver’s windshield. He then stopped and took me and threw me back onto the street and started kicking my ribs apart as I dropped down, and cursed at me with language way beyond what I ever heard in my entire life. Then my daughter threw a bucket of liquid light all over me, and it blinded me, and began swirling into hundreds of different shades of brilliant colors, and suddenly; I was wet and then totally dry, and totally healed up. I jumped up and thanked her, and she said to me, “The fun is only starting, real bad boy”, and then she pushed me so hard I fell down backwards and again, the three of them began pounding and pounding me. This went on for what seemed like an hour, getting totally destroyed and then rejuvenated with this magic light-liquid stuff, and then beat up to hell all over again. Finally, they all laughed and walked away from me as if nothing had happened. All three of them were wearing wild logos on their dresses as well, you could not miss them, and in this wild interaction, I could see real great without the aid or need of any eyeglasses. The color was bright orange, and dead center in the middle was an oval shape in jet black about an inch thick around, with a diameter in the oval large part being about eight to ten inches, stretching across and not going head to toe. Inside this oval, in bright green bold lettering, it said, YBCO SONG 301+. I have no idea what this is all about, and have been scared to make a move all day until recently when I decided to tell this on this blog. I woke up from this incredible experience around half past eleven, in fact on the nose I believe. The really strange part was that when I awoke, my vision was perfect for about one or two minutes, and then it suddenly was back to the normal piss poor vision that I actually have, but the clock to my right when I awoke, was bright and clear; an analogue face displaying the large hand at the 6, and the small hour hand dead in-between the eleven and the twelve. It was 11:30 AM. Some force, on top of this, will not allow me to monitor weather or other activities around the world with the normal computer tools that I should have available with this machine. Some powerful world owner and power, will not allow me to try and end this world, the way I need to, to stop this eternal hell for me in the only way I know how to. So Ron Wirtz Senior, if you’re still alive, Camden County New Jersey EX Prosecutor, kind-sir, I will be taking my “AEB” very soon, to a deserted area spot placing it on a rock surface, and slamming it as hard as I can with a Walmart hammer. If I am lucky, this will all be over for ever and ever, as it should have been that day at the Eden fence, when I interfered, and begged ISIS not to end everything right then and there; and she told me, and I quote, “Because you loved Diana, I will spare the world for a while”. Well, you are Diana, and there is no such thing as time or tents, so my error caused all this, and I will fix it in the only way that I know how. None of you will even feel a thing once this is done, boom, over forever, and done! I HAVE HAD ALL I CAN STAND, POPE-YES, ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh, and Keisha Crunch-99! This is where it is going to stop, my BROTHER!

I may not be the swiftest greatest sock in the drawer, Lenny Briscoe sir, colored mine, impressed, or whatever Robert Andrews Sir and old 1975 pal; but I will say this dam much, believers. I should have known not to make that ten grand bet about my 1986 song, back in twenty-ten. I feel this is the last straw that brought TAWF to the point of killing me at all costs, so I will beat them and everyone else to the great and mighty punch, oh lovely Keisha Disney Loca! WOW, I still have a huge place where you can see where this young teen girl totally broke and destroyed my right arm in the days of my great pal, PRINCE KEM. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

I NEED YOUR HELP, MIZZ A.G., BIG TIME!!!

Florida Attorney General Pam Bondi

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I know you are doing your best to watch over me, AG Mizz Bondi, thank you. Feel free to contact the Wirtz detectives in Camden County in New Jersey, Ron Senior knows my problem is all real, but his hands are tied, I am quite sure that you know what I mean.

That was what it was before the WORST MOTHER FUCKING DAY OF 2013 CAME IN, FRIDAY, it is now Saturday Morning at 25 minutes past mother fucking midnight, electrical number three cubed, (27) April, 2013. Yesterday was a major super fucking BOTBAR DAY. Folks, I have a hell of a monster fucking story to impart to you all today, and if you’re not in the mood for a really major talk with the Mountainpen here, move it over to the ”NEXT-BLOG”, I strongly urge you, but staying here will result in some pillow talking from DAD, and many other things. They were warned, and they did not care or they called my fucking bluff, or ‘whatever’, Congressman, but that old saying of Dawn-Marie King is quite fitting here good peeps, “It is what it is”, and again, it appears to be quite magically buried or cosmically perhaps, as this contains the built in Goddess of Babylon, both and either one of them, now or back then; my lovely wonderful and beautiful, who else; ISIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***MORIANITY PART FIVE***

A child knows that a lot of stuff can be learned by visiting my Youtube site, that will NOT be gone forever very shortly. Not after that threat I took over at the FORT PIERCE WEST LIBRARY, SOME DAYS AGO, BRO, YO!

http://www.youtube.com/paulaking2011/

THE MASTER SHEET FOR MORIANITY PART FIVE:

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My blogs
Morianity Bible For Millenium Three:
Morianity Foundation
The Epitome of Harassment – Internet Version
To Whom It May Concern From The Head Morian
RATS, TATS, & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL
About me
Gender
Male
Industry
Non-Profit
Occupation
paranormal researcher
Location
Hammonton, New Jersey, United States
Introduction
Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.
Interests
I close my mind to nothing
Favorite Movies
all old movies
Favorite Music
most old music
Favorite Books
The Winds Of War, Gone With The Wind, Time Travelers From Our Future
You forgot your mom’s birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?
An angry mother. Also, a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.

I DEMAND MY FUCKING PROPS.

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HELP ME PEE, YOU WILL BE OUT OF HERE BY THE END OF MARCH, and now it is 22 MAY.

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EGG HARBOR CITY’S SECRET DAWN LAUGHING KING’S MAGIC SCHOOL OF GRINS AND TAUNTS, GOOD OLD HARBORFIELDS DETENTION CENTER, AHA-AHA-AHA, REAL FUNNY. NOW UR IN DREAM-LAND!

If anyone can find me PEE, it is e-bay genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!

Jupiter, Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOU NOW ARE READING MORIANITY PART 5,
AND I DOUBT YOU ARE ENJOYING THIS CHAPTER NUMBER 00085. WEEE!

YOU ARE READING MORIANITY, PART 5, GOOD FOLKS, CHAPTER NUMBER ————————————————– 00085. I do not think this blog will be enjoyed, but I needed to get shit off my chest, and it beats throwing a hand grenade. I vent by blogging, so thank you Chris Bennett, YO! WAYWINY, lovely Diana, my baby-blond Lightning Goddess???????????

BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING (GODDESS DIANA), SUBMITTED BY A CHANNEL 12 VIEWER, NOW PASTED FROM THEIR TV-APP.

MY LOVE FOR YOU IS ENDLESS, LOVELY BABY-BLOND. NOW WE ALL CAN SEE YOU ONE NIGHT IN ARIZONA, THANX.

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I TOLD YOU ALL THAT THE STOCK MARKET WOULD REACH ALL TIME RECORD FUCKING HIGHS, AND IT ALREADY IS ON THE WAY TOWARDS THE 15,000 LEVEL AS I SAID IT WOULD BE. I ALSO HAVE ONE MORE THING TO SAY, THE ATTORNEY GENERAL WILL NOT ALLOW YOU BASTARDS TO MOTHER FUCKING MURDER ME, AND ALSO, READ THIS, YO:
OK people, here is what happened, and no one will believe it, and I am typing it for my own record, not so that anyone anywhere will see it and believe it. Shit all fucking mighty, if I were you and you were me; I know I wouldn’t believe it, so maybe that tells you to hit that NB button now. This will get deeper than your wildest fucking fantasies, sweet adorable Alice Vera Mel, not greedy Fisher MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is nine minutes shy of one, and I will be calling 911 if this all day long party, across the hall, does not stop. IT HAS BEEN DOORS, DOORS, DOORS, SLAMMING ALL MOTHER FUCKING DAY LONG. I do not have to take this after one in the mother fucking cunt lapping dick chewing MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!! Actually, it was pretty quiet until 3 in the afternoon, then one by one, these evil vile uncouth monster slobs, begin filing in; and by quarter past four late yesterday afternoon, it was slam slam bang, and still is, at one in the cunt eating morning. I have a powerful feeling, the FUCKING CUNT POLICE WILL BE HERE, BEFORE THE SUN RISES. I WILL NOT BE ABUSED THIS WAY, AND JUST SIT FUCKING HERE AND EAT THIS FUCKING SHIT, FROM THESE FUCKING TWISTED DISEASED MONSTERS, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They know the other neighbor is away, my pal Stanley, or they would not make this much cock licking fucking noise all day and night; but if only I AM HERE, 1988 or no fucking 1988; PROPHET OF FUCKING CUNT MCDONALD’S NOTHING; THEN I’LL GET ROYALLY AND TOTALLY FUCKING ASS SCREWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But if this day was just THIS HORRIBLE MONSTER OVER ACROSS THE FUCKING HELL-HALL, WITH HIS DIRT BAG EVIL SCUM BAG PEEPS; I could take it, but unfuckingfortunately for me; this is only a part of my fucking hell on this beyond MONSTER ASS FUCKING DAY FROM HELL CUBED CUBED CUBED AND CUBED, AND BEYOND ANY NORMAL ASS FUCKING CUNT LAPPING B—O—T—B—A—R!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Far beyond seeing constant fucking CLOCK-ONES, and other constant ONES-ATTACKS from Miss Dirtbag Jane Sleazeweedsdisease BITCH, from 20 years ago, in fucking cunt eating ’93; I have dropped shit, injured myself, been attacked in all possible ways including one of the worst health death ray beam assaults ever, where I was on the toilet for hours; and I was one fucked up shit head duck. I will tell you all something right now before even getting really into the heart and the meat of yesterday’s beyond SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY: That fucking rotten 1983 song has caused me a mountain top and an ocean basin of trouble, that none of you out here have a clue about; as I know since no one wants to go and listen to it, and I know because the count never changes on my YT account, when I deduct my views and my link up posts. Well, I will not say none, but maybe, and I mean MAYBE, it has been hit 6-10 times, and I said and will reiterate again, MAYBE!!!!!!!!!!!! As I speak, my twelfth fucking MORTY MORTINO DEATH ANDROID attack is striking me on my mother fucking cunt eating right side, the eleventh one was when I was shortly into starting this blog, and I have no time to waste on that dirt bag prick, reporting every visitation from this shit ass buttwipe clown, YO YO YO YO!!! Here is the real fucking shit, and it happened when I crashed out for the night around just past 2 AM on Friday fucking ass morning, BRAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WAS TAKEN BACK TO PROVINCE ”WEIRD”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was done totally against my will, as it was in late June of fucking pussy huffing two thousand and dick eating eight. For those that may not have a clue, this is a condition-interaction of the Astral-Plane, so far away from the normal interactions of Province-Olympia, that no words would be usable here, it would be the distance of about a quintillion orbits around the hypersphere universe of ours while we’re awake on this so-called, “Physical-Plane”. Diana was with me, and the LAMBRIGG CULT forced an unconditional surrender of myself and my air-ship, the Ricktown-1, and we went through a gigantic pipe like one of those municipal water pipes, only about 50 miles in diameter, otherwise, appearing just like one of them here in the fucking ass waking world, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Diana was allowed to remain with me for a while, then she was mysteriously made to vanish away, and they tortured me beyond anything imaginable. The agony was like 1000 years of someone stabbing your body all over, and you cannot bleed out and die, or you do, and then you just instantly experience some bizarre tissue and blood regeneration. This then happens over and over, and the agony gets worse as the interaction of seeming-time passes in the ongoing torment and torture. Now I know that this is real, what I am now going to tell you, and nothing similar to this has happened to fucking cunt me, since Christmas time, in the fucking year of 2007, at my place of employment, the Cifaloglio Garage, near Folsom, New Jersey, USAESMWG!!!

I died of a fucking stroke in ‘my sleep’ last night, it happened, and I totally fucking know that this happened. The agony on the Astral-Plane was somehow able to connect into my body here in waking ordinary consciousness, to a sufficient level, so as to fucking kill me, and it was a stroke, and it was fucking horrible. Now comes the wilder part, my good folks. I woke up and somehow crawled to the hallway, and yelled for help, and was taken to the hospital; where I was pronounced fucking DEAD there. Then I was asleep again; and this cycle went on and on for what seemed as long as the fucking torture that caused it to happen in the first fucking place. When I finally came out of this experience, I jumped out of bed, tripped and fell, yelled, and ran for a light, any fucking light, and I will not be able to sleep without a bright light on for a very fucking cunt lapping long while, just like after my fatal heart attack and other horrible shit from my early blogging days of super SIEGE AND PUMMELING ATTACK FROM THIS LAMBRIGGER CULT OF HELL ITSELF, NOTICE PLEASE, THAT I DID NOT SAY FROM HELL. I said OF HELL, and fuck you MICROSOFT, NOT ODF, screw your dam hack, I am not in the mother fucking ass mood for that shit right about now, YO!

You do not need to know everything, but I will tell you all one thing, DOROTHY GLINDASISTERTRAIL: NO I DO NOT SURRENDER; NOT AFTER THIS SIEGE AND DEATH-HELL ASSAULT, YOU MOTHER FUCKING PIECES OF DIRTY ASS ROTTEN FUCKING MONKEY CRAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Folks, the real joke is that you don’t, and cannot ever, know half of what is going on, and if I told, even though I am a certified fucking fruitcake; it would be Chappaquiddick Bridge for me, and then McGuire would light up my remains and I’d fucking glow for a day and a fucking ass half, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One thing this OZ-man can tell you, is that Bluebook Warren and the rest of the WASH-DOCK gang from 13-600-ville, are all clueless to a lot of shit that is right under their nose. They all think they’re all that up there in the capitol, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT, Dawn and DAD willya gimme a fucking bweak there Mister cunt eating Elmer Fwudddddd?????????????? TANKS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We are NOT playing with TIME TRAVELERS, just travelers, and folks, you are saying to yourself right about now, no doubt, what the fuck do you mean, and my response is that if you need to say that after all this fucking ass Morianity; I cannot aid you in just more mere fucking lingo made up of mere combinations of alphabet letters. It won’t work. This is what the gods know about that tongue shit, they’re not fucking talking about some real cool make out sessions, YO!!!!!!!!!!! I have been fatally car crashed, struck dead by Diana, poisoned with non-Mace-cans, shot, stabbed, crushed by a freight train, chocked and strangled, and not crashed in a car to my death once, but on several occasions; and something WON’T FUCKING LET ME DIE, yet if you came over and shot me; to your frame of reference, I would be dead and forever gone, and so ‘THAT’, is the real fucking PROVINCE WEIRD ROCKDROID EQUATION, sir Rotten Berry, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No aha-aha-aha tonight, Mike fucking cunt McNulty, old 1971 pal; just not in the fucking ass mood. So sorry Mister 1941 Ambassador of fucking cunt lapping JAPAN, huh lovely daughter PEE K——-omicassi????????????????? My life dwarfs the fucking SECOND WORLD WAR, 10 million times; or should I just keep my cuzz happy and say five meeeyun? Cut me 1, Marge Leo!

5555555555555555555555555555

For more, just scroll, no need to fucking click on the margin, good people, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

10:47 PM-EDST, 25 APRIL, 2013, THURSDAY NIGHT:

I TOLD YOU GINA, THEY PICK THE FUCK ON ME, OVER AND OVER, AND EVEN THOUGH THE DOW BEGAN TO GO DOWN FOR A WHILE, THIS RECENT 10-15 DAYS OF SHIT ON ME, EVERY DAY, WITH POUNDING, AND PUMMELING, AND PERSECUTION BY FILTHY FUCKING EVIL NEIGHBORS; AND LOTS OF OTHER FUCKING SHIT; AND THE DOW JONES GOES UP AND UP AND UP AND UP AND UP, DAY AFTER DAY, AFTER DAY, AFTER DAY. A FUCKING TWISTED MORON LITTLE SNOTTY CHILD, CAN SEE MY WORDS ARE ALL FUCKING TRUE. WHERE IS THE WONDERFUL ATTORNEY GENERAL WHEN I NEED HER, OH GREAT PRESIDENT-O???????????? THIS IS WHY PEEPS REACH THAT MAGIC BOILING POINT, I NEVER WILL, BUT THIS IS WHY THESE INCIDENTS WILL NOT STOP HAPPENING, AS IT JUST GETS ENDLESSLY MOTHER FUCKING WHITE WASHED, AND COVERED UP, BY POWERFUL ‘PENTAGON FUCKING ALIENS’, OR ‘WHATEVER’ BODY SNATCHING EXPLORATRONIC SHIT IS REALLY GOING FUCKING ON, AND DON’T LET CLARINET PLAYER, PLAYER BILL, BULLSHIT US. HE KNOWS THE ENTIRE FUCKING MESS, AND HAS TO SHUT UP ON PAIN OF DEATH; HIS AND THE ENTIRE FAM. FOLKS, QUIT BEING SO FUCKING naïve AND STUPID, AND ‘MICROSOFT I-N-SIS-TS ON SPELLING’ naïve IN SMALLS, I AM NOT DOING THIS, YO!!!!!!!!!!! I DID THE OTHER CUTE ASS LITTLE THING AFTERWARD, WHAAAAAA, MMCN!

I am one angry mother fucker about a lifetime of mother fucking endless cock sucking MAJOR PERSECUTION, good freaking folks out here, and all my loyal MORIANS, YO YO!! So quit bouncing me around Mister McDonald and Mister Vandegrift, kind sirs, and stop with the super echo already on the fucking car ads. You’re not a Donna Summer 1979 fucking disco, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Jeese fucking cunt Louise, and W—O—W!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAA!

EVERY MOTHER FUCKING COCK EATING DAY, these noisy dirt bag neighbors ARE DRIVING ME NUTS AT THE FUCKING SPEED OF LIGHT CUBED, PUBLIC HOUSING ASS AUTHORITY, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ALL MIGHTY!!!!!!!!!!
This is totally REDICULOUS, MACK KAITER of Northeast freaking ass Maryland of 1967. Cut me a break, Margie Leo!

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONICCCCCCCC:

OPEN COMMAND ON MY VOICE PRINT PLEASE,
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, YOU WILL HEAR THE A/B TONES ON LONG VOWEL SOUND EEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
GO TO ALL ORDERS AND ALL TECKS, UNDER A MAJOR FUCKING PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, ‘I’ TO ‘D’, HERE WE GO MAGGIE NOT MAY, RODNEY-71, YO, AND EEEEEEEEEEEEEE///EEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND S-T-O-P!

Holy fucking ass Toledo, pillow talking Daddy. If this shit does not FUCKING CUNT BACK THE FUCKING SHIT OFF OF ME, SOMEBODY OUT FUCKING HERE, YO YO YO YO YO; I AM GOING TO TELL EVERYTHING ABOUT THE BATTLESHIP ELDRIDGE, AND EINSTEIN, AND MY CUNT EATING FATHER; ALL OF IT, NOTHING LEFT OUT; THE WHOLE FUCKING SMACK, NASA ASTRONAUTS, SO THERE. YOU HAVE BEEN SOMEWHAT FUCKING POLITELY INFORMED, TOMMY ROE, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, IGNORE THIS AT YOUR OWN PERILL, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
I NOW TWERMINATE THIS TWANSMISSION, MISTER WARNER AND MISTER WARNER, WHAAAAAAAAAA-BIT!!!!!!!

NIGHTY NIGHT EVERYONE, AND I HAVE THE ‘AEB’, YO.

This cunt lapping ‘cunt phlegm rapes’ (compensates) for fucking ass eleven eleven on the computer fucking clock, you son of a dam ass bitch rotten unlucky minus seven!!!!!

55555555555555555555555555555555555.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!

ABSOLUTE NEWEST UPDATED MORIANITY PART FIVE, ADDITION AT END OF BLOGS:

I HOPE YOU HAVE ENJOYED READING THIS CHAPTER NUMBER 85,
ONLY IT IS DOUBTFUL THAT YOU DID, WITH ALL OF MY DAM ROTTEN PROFANITY. SO SORRY, OH WELL, MAYBE TOMORROW WILL BE BETTER, GARY-7 AND OTHERS, THEN AGAIN, MAYBE YOU WON’T STOP UNTIL YOU HAVE TAKEN ME TO THE WEEDS! ALSO, PLEASE KEEP RIGHT ON SCROLLING DOWN AND READING.

SHARKEY MARKEY SAYS, I HAVE A LOT MORE TO TELL Y’ALL AT A LATER FREAKING ASS TIME, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Sharkey also says this, kind folks:

SHARKEY SAYS: Maybe it’s time to bite somebody’s fucking balls the Christ off, just when arrogant slobs are not looking for me, there I AM, popping up all over the dam fucking shoreline, YO, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! DIS SOMEBODY SAY ”WOW”????????????????????????????

ABSOLUTE NEWEST UPDATED MORIANITY PART FIVE, ADDITION AT END OF BLOGS:

READ ON, SHAKESPEARE MACBETH. Hyperspace effects my ass, Walter; I am not the fucking moron you all think that I am, ya’ rotten no good EW pricks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TEE-HEE.

I HOPE THAT YOU ARE ENJOYING THE READING OF THIS CHAPTER NUMBER 00085. Tonight however, most will not be 2 happy with my rotten behavior, NOT sorry about that Chief of 86.

NUMEROUS ITEMS ARE CAPPED IN, FOR THOSE WHO MAY BE INTERESTED, AS WELL AS FOR ANY NEW VIEWERS.

THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.
CHAPTER 00085, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
I talk a lot about my copyrighted music, so here it is, folks.

Public Catalog
Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

Resort results by:

#
Name (NALL) <
Full Title
Copyright Number
Date
[ 1 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
For the record.
PAu000662409
1984
[ 2 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
I'm Criana.
PAu000724397
1985
[ 3 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.
PAu003351785
2007
[ 4 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Last number repeat–100 progression roulette system.
TXu000514390
1992
[ 5 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Lost love.
PAu000344219
1981
[ 6 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection, set 4.
PAu000546149
1983
[ 7 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo collection : set III.
PAu000442785
1982
[ 8 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr demo tunes.
PAu000325091
1981
[ 9 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Mohr tunes.
PAu000411864
1982
[ 10 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Queen of blue.
PAu000825471
1986
[ 11 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Real good girl.
PAu000881543
1986
[ 12 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.
PAu002506106
2000
[ 13 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Saga of song writer Mark Mud.
PAu000501582
1983
[ 14 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
PAu002153196
1996
[ 15 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah.
SRu000332786
1996
[ 16 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Sarah Callio of ACNJ.
SRu000362114
1997
[ 17 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
Uncle.
PAu000540585
1983
[ 18 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
What's wrong?
PAu000724407
1984
[ 19 ]
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
You call this music?
PAu000998574
1987
[ 20 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.
PAu001148157
1988
[ 21 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.
PAu001189027
1989
[ 22 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204017
1980
[ 23 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204015
1980
[ 24 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity music pre-book.
PAu002336935
1998
[ 25 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morianity tunes of 1998.
PAu002282717
1998

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Contact Us | Request Copies | Get a Search Estimate | Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) about Copyright | Copyright Office Home Page | Library of Congress Home Page

Public Catalog
Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
Search Results: Displaying 26 through 28 of 28 entries.

Resort results by:

#
Name (NALL) <
Full Title
Copyright Number
Date
[ 26 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.
PAu000204016
1980
[ 27 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Same title.
PAu003037983
2005
[ 28 ]
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
Thanx to the shadows.
PAu002237985
1997

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WHASUP VIQUEEN MARILOO?

WHASUP STOCK BROKER GORDO?

WWYWINY, MALCALM ROSENBERG OF PHILLY, PA?

Well, yesterday was another thing that never got mentioned. It was my PCNLD or (Private Cosmicoded Number Lottery Day). This is twice that the Florida 3-Pick Lottery, matched my PCN of '871', and I thought for sure by now that CUZZ DON's number would pop in, also Frank Callio's, also MC's, after-all, there are only 81 PCN's folks, and nearly four million peeps in America have each one of them, simple math folks, 81 times four-mill is equal to the rough guess US Census counted population in the 2010 count, WHAAAA! Well without any weed sucking, or changing places, or role reversals, or audience competing; let me move this along and quit with the dam tangents already, yikes, YO! Now do you see why my kid scares me to death, Pam? I know what she is capable of, and I am just trying now to appease her wrath until my 18 and out. I see this human life of mine as none other than a total fucking prison sentence, and make no bones about it, nor do I act shy about printing it up publicly, Mister Graham, 'TEE HEE HEE', oh Lilly. Where Are You When I Need You, ED, not you, Mister Himacane Lynch?
Oh yes, WAYWINY, and then in past tents, it would become, where were you when I needed you, right Sam Walton, another December 7, 1941 day for me, President Roosevelt. These initials change into WWYWINY, and need and needed both start with the 'N' word, no, not that ugly other 'N' word. You have no idea what fight I would have put up for custody of you, MI, if I had known, but two moms conspiring against it, forget it. Where was all your role reversal stuff when it might have done the most good, I could ask you, oh great Sarah-Stacey Krassle, my endless wonderful Goddess?

Well, it is now in the eighties officially, at 2:09, according to the channel-12 app on my computer. At least it is nothing like the past couple of years where by the end of April it was either high eighties or into the nineties by 12-3 in the afternoon, every dam day. Folks forget stuff, I do not know how they live so controlled and so totally ETOSS-HACKED. When I get the occasional hit by these pricks, I remember those times and can count them on both my hands and that is it, and it is always something that pertains to my great swimmer daughter. I still was scared she was going to drown, but learned some really powerful lessons in the process, me that is, not her. She is all mighty, and needs not learn anything, other than my brain is a worthless pile of junk circuits, confusing the address of the Philadelphia Zoo, with where the great Manhattan ES Building is. It is on 34th Street, but not Poplar. What's happening to my nutty mind, Mayor Nutter, and little girl on the TV ad, WHAAAAA? No one knows how real it is to be ETTOS attacked by this powerful family. The day McGuire leaves us all in peace, I will be out surf and turfing, if I have to borrow the money from the dam mob. That's a promise, lovely Re-max Mo, and WOMO as well, Karen Simons. Thanks, traitor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. No, I won't brand you, for old times sake. Laugh time, McNulty!
The last really bad 4 days went as follows on my systems-roulette by the way, good folks. Yesterday I made 7 units. The three other recent bad days were plus 4, plus 1, and plus 5 and a half, TEE HEE HEE, MZ. MUNSTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Try not to hate your old pal too much, Congressman Andrews, and remember the good times YO, in 1975, even the time you refused to give me a lift home that evening after 9 P, down at Pileggi's basement, or 'whatever'. You had the coolest stereo, and the coolest girl, Angel. Was she perfect or more like my daughter?

Hay Gawky Gaukauk, here kitty, why has the fucking dick licking persecution over the past ten days or so gotten so bad again with my across the fucking hallway nabes, YO YO YO??????????????????????????

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, SHARKEY MARKEY, PCN-682.

TALL GIRL ATTACK ON ATLANTIC CITY BEACH—-PROJECT BLUEBOOK—-CANCER—-QUEENS—-MOVING—-THE MORNING LIGHT—-BEAVER—-PANASONIC OPEN REEL MASTERING MACHINE—-TWENTY——————————

HAY GAWKY GAUKAUK, HERE KITTY, ALL THREE TIMES IN MY LIFE, IN 1977, 1983, AND 1986, WHEN I TRIED TO MAKE A LITTLE MORE MONEY THAN IN OTHER TIMES EVER IN MY LIFE, AND SUCCEEDED, I WAS ASSAULTED TWICE PHYSICALLY TO THE NEAR POINT OF DEATH, AND THE FINAL TIME, THE DEATH OF MY ENTIRE LIFE RESULTED AND HAS BEEN THE CASE EVER FUCKING SINCE THAT TIME IN 1986?

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, SHARKEY MARKEY, PCN-853.

1954—-36th avenue—-stingray————-

LIKE FUCKING W—-O—-W!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Holy Hannah-88, can I please be forgiven for my last fucking lifetime folks? Thank fucking you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where is Herbert Huntington, Ancestry dot com, crissake YO? Please do not darken my shadowy dark doorstep ever again; and no more hunting trips for your dam son, and his pal McGee's pop. SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!!!!! Double-triple fucking WOW, YO.

As always, we could dance all night, and I could talk all day, but no new fucking songs pweeeeeeeze. The current one has me in enough hot water to put the water-heater peeps permanently out of fucking ass business, YO County Jail caller. Yes MC, I did re-listen, before your 5th cuzz 3 times removed, stole the CD, and all your stuff from my bedroom. I know the horrible stuff you were letting me see, and thanks for not offing me. I make you the very same promise now, I made to Sarah Callio, your 4th-7TR. I will as of this blog, leave you entirely out of this. I always loved that wild show with the two continuum's, and how the dude killed himself. That was talent, girl. Well, I'll keep my promise to you. Also, in return, you keep the chain, and no more dreams; not ever, do we have a deal oh great Sarah Krassle??????????????? Only we know what's getting said here, the old shark knows what you tried to tell me. I always loved those kind of sci-fi shows, only this time it's my real life, and that really sucks.
You enjoy your great VR-GAME, it belongs to you, and I had no right to ever try and expose its truths, or yours; just don't make me swim down to the weeds forever, please, my great GODDESS QUEEN, thank you. Ask your CUZZ SARAH if I kept my promise, other than for the one quick time, when I just wanted to show the great artist Billy Harner, her water company.

555555555555555555555555555

COPYRIGHT MARK WAYNE MOHR 2012, REWRITE FROM 1983, ALSO COPYRIGHTED UNDER TITLE THEN, “GIRL, I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING”, & NOW UNDER REWRITE TITLE OF
“YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER”

VERSE ONE

I'm so very happy for you, pales of fish so fresh and new

Let me ask you really nicely, could you spare us just a few

Oh my wife and kids are starving, could you help us make a stew

We're down and out, and we will even go to work for you

You seem to have about a dozen giant pales or two

I am so weak and faint and do not wanna' be so blue

While we slept inside the dunes, somebody stole my shoe

Oh please kind sir, just take some pity, let us work for you

We'll help in any way we can, and be your loyal crew

But greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say

I've been working hard out in the sun all day

And I'm not giving any freaking fish away

VERSE TWO

So when you add your salty tears directly in the sea

And when you're done your song of woe, that you have sung to me

Just take your wife and kids, and jump right off this big jetty

And right into the undertow, and stop annoying me

And talking on and on and on, and bothering my fish

You loud annoying bleeding hearts, that beg and cry and bitch

I have lots of work to do, and buckets must be filled

So either leave this jetty now, or someone might be killed

Guys like me must catch our fish, like farmers fields get tilled

People say I'm cold and cruel, on every single day

But I have got a lot of freaking bills to pay

So I'm not giving any of my fish away

VERSE THREE

They say the greatest mother lies there out beyond the sand

And mothers can get angry when their kids are out of hand

Storms blow out of nowhere and, a lot of folks have died

The sea can give and take away, while many tears get cried

And on one very special day, a greedy man was drowned

Ignoring waves that swallowed rocks with heavy pounding sound

Just another bucket and, then he'll have caught his fill

A lot of daring fishermen forget the sea can kill

The king fish of the jetty, just was never seen again

Yet locals claim the winds still howl these words from fisher Ben

I've been working hard out in the sun all day

So yes I have a lot of freaking bills to pay

And I'm not giving any of my fish away

VERSE FOUR

You'll be crossing over, later wishing you'd been nicer

You'll be crossing over, through the quantum waving splicer

You'll be crossing over, hearing all the trash they're talking

You'll be crossing over, and you'll have to keep on walking

You'll be crossing over, watching all the others eating

Feasts with banquet tables, where the fish keep on repeating

Forever seeing many fish, but never on your plate

You had your time back in the sun before you sealed your fate

You'll be crossing over, and you'll be a lonesome rover

Forever doomed to hear the words you always used to say

That you've been working hard out in the sun all day

Oh yes we knew you had your freaking bills to pay

So you're not giving any of your fish away

END OF SONG.

This is 100% machine created, techno-pop, sampled from the intro.

YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983

NEW 2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC TRACK ALONG WITH ARE UP AT THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, LIKE DUH:

Only the opening title words are real.

To sing along with the new 2012 lyrics, go to my blog and click the SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, and scroll down until the page comes up with the words to the song, YO. If you do not like techno-pop music of the early and middle nineteen-eighties, there are other songs at the same site, http://youtube/paulaking2011/ so go there and have a blast. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

Without clicking, yesterdays can just be scroll viewed!

Folks, I have no time to tell you the whole thing, it would take a hundred mother fucking years, and when all is said and done and your great grand kids finish reading it, they and you, won't give a hoot pollute blasted dam anyway, who's kidding who? Still, I will say a few quick things, and no force on this Earth is going to fucking stop me from that.

First, a few hours ago, I was cooking a fucking steak and spaghetti meal in my kitchen, when the IF scumbags thought pulling a cute little Leprechaun prank on me would be nice and Roseann Delaney fucking funny, the mother fucking rotten bastards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A small roach appeared near an opened can of spaghetti sauce. This was simply to get me to reach over to kill this menacing germy little shit, forgetting about the can with a half opened up lid; and 'shazam', Gomer Pyle USMC, and 'goollllleeey', Sargent fucking cunt Carter, Mary Paints McVeigh; if I did not practically take my cunt eating left index finger right off. Go away, Roseann Tressa Backtowork Minicoffin Nightmares! But those that know about the American Appliances Refrigerators back when this entire August 15, 1986 thing all got started, also know that I cut all of my toes off at Mars graphics Printing Shop in 1977, and in two months, they all grew back. I thought all toes grew back, and was told later by some dick head, it was a miracle and I should tell the Vatican. Bullshit on the Vatican, enough fucking cock suckers are watching me like hawks and buzzards, huh Apollo-Lucifer and lovely sister D?

What some may wish to be made aware of who read Morianity, is thisssssssssss, Miss Erica Lucci snakes of 1983, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!! If you were the only one alive on this Earth, pretend you are lost and leaving endless bread crumbs behind you, only instead of breadcrumbs, it is an endless ball of thin colorful twine. Now as time passes, and you move all around, in and out of buildings and homes and down streets and into all kinds of places, this past record will follow behind you. Now bringing the cold reality back, we are not alone, and so our fellow creatures also do this very same thing, and also are leaving this endless twine string behind them no matter where they go, and when, forever and always. Now instead of 20 or so basic prime and second colors, pretend we have sight capable of focusing at solar surface brilliance, so billions of separate coloring shades would now be possible. Each one would have their own unique color. Now imagine the interaction of all of us, not us, but this twine after a week, after a month, a year, 5, 10, and so on. Now take shit one more step still good folks. Remove the US, just see this endless intertwining weaving cosmic interaction. Now, you are ready to be told, that this is what produces a force called the IF, and NOT the fucking other way around, ladies and gentlemen, and whoever else is out here, so say it, YO; WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So where are my trucks, TD?
It is 4:40 AM-EDST, 25 April, 2013, on Thursday morning.

Now the rest of the topic for this blog is about the invention of these early eighties personal computers, AKA PC's. First, this jerk fucking off nabe across the cunt eating hallway from me IS PART OF THIS BUILDING CONSPIRACY WITH THE COMPUTER DELL GUY, and is why I was unable to secure any help from him, other than to get a mind blowing course one night from him about the real WOMO (World-Owners) and that would be none other than MICROSOFT CORPORATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All others follow in close seconds or thirds, obediently wagging their tails behind them; and keeping their heads down, and their yes sir yelps endlessly strong, loud, and coming. Continue please, you are reading the section in Morianity for Millennium 3, Chapter #5.

Let us talk about these PC's, and how this all fits and connects with me, while bearing in mind the entire time, the little lesson in weaving and looms and our great great grandma's sowing habits, brought into the real next generation. First off, without even touching anything around this little quick next few sentences, let me just say the shit I feel compelled to say, and get it the fuck out of the way and over with, YO!

If I could wake up by some Irish Leprechaun Magic, (ILM) can be used after this point as a short abbreviation for this three word phrase; and be a total computer geek black hat cracker hacker, or on that level without doing anything illegal or immoral, with what I need in my personal life situation, don't be shy along with me world, as you know I would use this to my advantage, keeping it as legal and moral as is humanly possible, but when the road gets real tough here and there, with all the chips down underneath the surface of the gaming table, and the skies are all gray and bleak and black and dark; well, let us not get silly here, or try and fool ourselves. I would use this and I would make the MILITUFORCE really PAY for what has been done to me, and would still quite naturally, be being done to me at any so-called point of future STM. So the quintessential DUH is of course THEY are not going to make it real ass super easy for me to reach that computer savvy stage and point. It really again, as the great Toronto Bank of WOW says on their really cool TV ad spots, “It isn't rocket science”, and I'll gladly throw in here, “We do not need your services, Subaru Vonbrahn. I have tried to spell this dude's name 10 ways back from Sunday, and as usual, MSC is no help at all! Any celebrated last name spelled as it is sounded out, should be recognized with groups of words with one being the correct spelling. Yes, gear shift, no grind, these scum over there have been in and out all night, 1,2,3,4,5 in the morning, even now at nearly fucking half past, and Friday, I am telling Debbie that I will write a letter to whoever runs this building, as this is fucking bullshit, not 'cigarette butt bullcarp'. Yes it is amazing how very inexpensive items can serve as a spy stethoscope, placed on my door, and listened to through my headphones on my bed any time I wish. I am a very paranoid person, it is only a matter of time before I will know a lot more. The entire put together item cost me under 15 bucks, and is a great investment, as I need to know what goes on with ENEMIES. If folks would not harass and persecute me, I would never think of doing things like fucking this. I had to take a break, and go on, what David Roth used to call, late in the nineteen-eighties; a 'Crampana Shit Attack', only his main one that I'll always clearly remember, he also called the Dark Shitholes Attack, as he actually had the balls after being hit with a WOMO death beam at the Westmont, New Jersey High Speed-Line Train Station; to use the back yard woods, behind Roseann Delaney's home, in Haddonfield, New Jersey; to keep from browning out in his Bermuda shorts; TEE HEE HEE, Lilly M. Things like this do not happen with consistency and regularity to normal average healthy grown men, such as myself and David. So what else can the explanation be? I am surely not making up this story. Would I be proud to say I am always getting horrible fucking shit attacks, and not always properly making it to a facility, over the past 27 fucking cunt years? Give me a break, Margie Leo, 4 freaking crissake. Let us return now to the original topic of the personal computer and me, and our twining interaction. If I could do all the things I'd like to be able to do with them, my enemies would be in very serious trouble, until they came over covertly and stealthfully, and did a Marie Fahey on me, in the name of domestic enemy terror, and the Patriot Act; or some other total nonsense mother fucking garbage that if you added three dollars to, would get you a dozen shinny quarters; and that's all it would get you, YO!!!!!! If this was a fair world, I could sue the fucking FBI for breaking intentionally, all of my legally paid for and totally owned, electronic equipment, back early in this century, while I lived at the Mullica Mobile Manor, just east of fucking cock sucking Hammonton, Blu-Berryville, in New Green-Garden State Jersey, let me get off this blog beach for now, GOV, and return to the topic of PC's and me!!!!!!!!!!!! No, they don't show this dirty part of the FISA shit, on the great L&O TV show, but in real-life, they break your stuff, after all; what the fuck can you do about it, complain; and almost get locked up, by the fucking worthless Mullica Township Cops, back that day? Whaju say Dawn and Dad, SHEEEEEEEEEIT!

Now these fucking miserable jerk off nabes of mine, come into their unit after visiting with this asshole on my floor with the computer, who knocked on my door that day on 12/18/2012, when I had Dennis Chase over here from the local Publix, posting my 'YBCO' harmony track tune, to my Youtube account, at http://youtube/paulaking2011/ BRO!

I know they all are friends, and constantly visit with each other, and conspire to fuck with me, both with my not getting any computer help, remember the story the resident manager of my building told me about Tom being bored with nothing to do, only he tells me that he's too fucking busy to aid me with my PC? Oh yeah, right, sure, shore, most definitely makes total sense, and it does, and I am not being fucking facetious, as it makes complete 100% sense. It is a plot to keep me fucked, fucked, fucked, and FUCKED!!!!!!!! Those that won't see my story is all real and true, SIMPLY DO NOT WANT IT TO BE TRUE. AFTER ALL, IT MIGHT JUST TOUCH THEM, OR SOMEBODY WHO THEY LOVE, IF IT IS TRUE; and that is not within their mother fucking comfy cozy zones, but is totally within the zone of the GWPOS, or Giant Williamstown Police Officer Syndrome, that I have told over and over about an incident that happened in the middle fucking nineties. WHAAAAAAA-AHA-AHA-AHA, MMCN!

Folks, I went on a real roll for two fire alarms every day, along with the nabes back on a roll, simultaneously, and one time was definitely set off by them, as they were talking to the FD and saying, as I told all ready on a prior blog, This is bull crap, it is just smoldering cigarette butts. I merely spelled all of the words correctly on this dam blog, BRAH!

The first two thirds of the year of 2008, in its own way was bigger than the same time period in 1986, 22 years earlier. Studying my blogs or archiving them at the website at BLOGGER, using this address: http://drunkenhive.blogspot.com/ or http://theansweristheqyuestion.blogspot.com/
will reveal powerful beyond wild and unfathomable shit. You can see how the entire MENTALIST show was created from this blog, you can see Jason Forrest's comment, accidentally posted in haste I suppose, on my blog by him, saying how this blog, meaning MY BLOG, is where he made a lot of money in Cali, to quote him exactly, and so much more. The real power is two things this time, unlike in 1986. first, all of the 1986 records are conveniently lost now, thanks to a wonderful star family, and second, this is more of a recent group of events. All of my original life journal on cassette tape is gone forever, unlike my blogs posted at BLOGGER, as well as other websites for bloggers, during these incredible times of cosmic proportions. Also, unlike the first time, I know so much more than I did back then, more things, more players in the cosmic colorful weaving system, and more aware living witnesses to force in court if ever taken that far, that will either tell some powerful truths under fucking ass oath, or commit perjury to keep many gargantuan secrets. Just yesterday, as it is now 5:55 AM-EDST, a very beautiful two minute period each and every 24 hour cycle or 'day', on this April 25, 2013; I was playing around with the WORDPRESS BLOGGING SITE. For no reason about two months or so ago, give or take a month, one day, I went to paste in my blogs typed from my word office 3.1 system, and unlike before, both WordPress and Blogger sites, no longer pasted it in, as it appeared on the office document, on my PC. However, the BLOGGER software, compensates somehow, and places the format back into the way I had it on my own PC Office System Program, or 3.1 Open Office. I keep hoping for WORDPRESS to install the similar software, but I have come to see their game. I think if I am willing to pony up a nominal 25 dollar fee each year, not bad at all; they will give me a real domain, so I plan to do this; as long as I can post up my songs, my blogs, my photographs, and stuff the way I do at the Blogger site, and have it all work; links, all of it. If this was $25 per month, I could not afford it, but 2 dollars and change, per month is reasonable enough for me to say yes, and agree to this 'dot me' thing. Hay, like the fucking lady at 1101 Robin Hill Apartments, when I was next door to her, in late 1983, and into 1984; at 1102 Apartment number; said to me through the door that afternoon early in 1984, “It's ME”, and later on, I had a powerful dream where she forced me onto the roof of the building, and gave me excruciating pain by some magical power, that blows me away every time to this day, that I so much as remember that 'dream' for even a tiny little fucking second. In the dream she again reiterated only slightly varying her words spoken through my door in waking life or in this universe; I AM A 'ME', and this wild shit was all written down in my 'so-called' fictional 1994 book, copyrighted in WASH-DOC-600-13, called, “The Permission Barrier”. In waking life she said something equally awesome and outlandish to me through my dam door. She said I need to know something, and that if I do not open the door, and let her come in and tell me; I will regret it for the rest of my life. Is anyone reading this, seeing this word yet, 'WOW'?

A very beautiful full moon is shinning out there above me, 99% full and still waxing, becoming full at around noon today. I LOVE YOU BEAUTIFUL LUNA, MY SPECIAL BABY BLOND, AND MY WONDERFUL AND AWSOME LIGHTNING GODDESS DIANA ARTEEMIS, AND I'LL NEVER EVER LET YOU GO, NOT FOREVER AND FOREVER AND FOREVER, MY ENDLESS LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 657 and 123, but does that equal 1984 or 1983, or even the mighty all seeing Mister fiction book author Orwell???????????????? Where does 'megawater' fit into this, and for that matter the great 'SUNRAM'? This is what all came flooding back to me, in early 1996, under intense psycho-therapy hypnotism; at the Wolf Clinic, on Main Street, in Moorestown, NJ, right next to REMOMAX. Wow, Mike Sotas. Bad news, you're no competition with Super-Girl Keisha. So bring those fire engines roaring, OTAMM-MILI-2-FORCE, WEEEEEEEEEEE. Still with all of this said, the entire interaction of all of the twine all over the world, creates the IF (Interaction Force), and within that force, is the very gun powder that is needed to work the magic of what I have spoken rarely about over nearly seven and a half years of my blogging now, “REALITY-THREE”. We will get real deep into Reality-3, very very soon.
Diana, I saw your wonderful moon on the Jupiter Cam, all orange and lovely and creamy-dreamy, my endless love. I am your little boy forever and ever, baby-blond; and will be with you very soon, lovely one. IWALU, BB (baby-blond)!!!!!!!!!!!!

December 12, 2006
More Crackpots- Meet Mark from NJ (MP3)

http://youtu.be/Vqg3oty0JMU ** song from 1983 redone, YBCO (C) HIM, ME.
This is merely a harmony track. I am trying to make a video and post the entire song, YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER, MARK WAYNE MOHR, FULL COPYRIGHT AND OWNERSHIP OF SONG. Now at the risk of getting crucified, pigeonholed, or persecuted, read on, my wonderful great Morians.
At the risk of being pigeonholed as the Girl Who Writes About Crazy Cursing Dudes, I bring you Mark from New Jersey.  Mark has far-ranging theories on time travel, Armageddon, roulette and Donna Summer (the DEVIL!), which he angrily discusses in various telephone conversations. 
Station Manager Ken clued me in to this fella recently.  He was given a CD called "The Meaning of Life."  The back copy states that it was made from a cassette found on the side of the road bearing the same title.  He's really difficult to listen to, for a couple of reasons- The recordings only capture Mark's side of the conversation and they seem to have been recorded either by a microphone placed somewhere in the room or possibly while Mark was standing outside on a windy day.  More importantly, he is insane.  Completely, violently insane. 
Mark claims to be both a time traveler and a descendant of King David.  His family will bring about the apocalypse through the activation of the Christ Android, currently dormant inside the 12 Planet.   And also that the 50 richest families in the world are trying to do him in.  Covertly, of course.   Also against him is Donna Summer, the Devil.  (Whether he means the disco Donna Summer, or WFMU's own Jason Forrest isn't clear.) 
Here then, are three selections from Mark's version of reality:
Interdimensional Technology (MP3)    Android & Angel (MP3)    12th Planet (MP3)
If you need more Mark from NJ, Aquarius Records would be happy to sell you a cd-r.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go cover my windows with aluminum foil.

As Bob Chabot said in 1981, is there any excuse 4U? Signed, da' Mountainpen.

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ISIS UNVEILED: A MASTER-KEY TO THE MYSTERIES OF ANCIENT AND MODERN SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY. BY H. P. BLAVATSKY. CORRESPONDING …

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ISIS UNVEILED:
A Master-Key to the Mysteries of Ancient and Modern Science and Theology
By H. P. Blavatsky

Blavatsky's first major work on theosophy, examining religion and science in the light of Western and Oriental ancient wisdom and occult and spiritualistic phenomena.
Theosophical University Press Online Edition (print version also available). Electronic version ISBN 1-55700-135-9. This edition may be downloaded for off-line viewing without charge. Because of current limitations in ASCII character fonts, and for ease of searching, no diacritical marks appear in the electronic version of the text.

CONTENTS
DETAILED CONTENTS, VOLUME 1 and VOLUME 2
VOLUME 1
TITLE PAGE
PREFACE (pages v – viii)
BEFORE THE VEIL (pages ix – xlv)
Dogmatic assumptions of modern science and theology / The Platonic philosophy affords the only middle ground / Review of the ancient philosophical systems / A Syriac manuscript on Simon Magus / Glossary of terms used in this book
———————
Volume First: THE "INFALLIBILITY" OF MODERN SCIENCE.
CHAPTER 1: OLD THINGS WITH NEW NAMES (pages 1 – 38)
The Oriental Kabala / Ancient traditions supported by modern research / The progress of mankind marked by cycles / Ancient cryptic science / Priceless value of the Vedas / Mutilations of the Jewish sacred books in translation / Magic always regarded as a divine science / Achievements of its adepts and hypotheses of their modern detractors / Man's yearning for immortality
CHAPTER 2: PHENOMENA AND FORCES (pages 39 – 73)
The servility of society / Prejudice and bigotry of men of science / They are chased by psychical phenomena / Lost arts / The human will the master-force of forces / Superficial generalizations of the French savants / Mediumistic phenomena, to what attributable / Their relation to crime
CHAPTER 3: BLIND LEADERS OF THE BLIND (pages 74 – 99)
Huxley's derivation from the Orohippus / Comte, his system and disciples / The London materialists / Borrowed robes / Emanation of the objective universe from the subjective
CHAPTER 4: THEORIES RESPECTING PSYCHIC PHENOMENA (pages 100 – 125)
Theory of de Gasparin / [[Theory]] of Thury / [[Theory]] of des Mousseaux, de Mirville / [[Theory]] of Babinet / [[Theory]] of Houdin / [[Theory]] of MM. Royer and Jobart de Lamballe / The twins — "unconscious cerebration" and "unconscious ventriloquism" / Theory of Crookes / [[Theory]] of Faraday / [[Theory]] of Chevreuil / The Mendeleyeff commission of 1876 / Soul blindness
CHAPTER 5: THE ETHER, OR "ASTRAL LIGHT" (pages 126 – 162)
One primal force, but many correlations / Tyndall narrowly escapes a great discovery / The impossibility of miracle / Nature of the primordial substance / Interpretation of certain ancient myths / Experiments of the fakirs / Evolution in Hindu allegory
CHAPTER 6: PSYCHO-PHYSICAL PHENOMENA (pages 163 – 205)
The debt we owe to Paracelsus / Mesmerism — its parentage, reception, potentiality / "Psychometry" / Time, space, eternity / Transfer of energy from the visible to the invisible universe / The Crookes experiments and Cox theory
CHAPTER 7: THE ELEMENTS, ELEMENTALS, AND ELEMENTARIES (pages 206 – 252)
Attraction and repulsion universal in all the kingdoms of nature / Psychical phenomena depend on physical surroundings / Observations in Siam / Music in nervous disorders / The "world-soul" and its potentialities / Healing by touch, and healers / "Diakka" and Porphyry's bad demons / The quenchless lamp / Modern ignorance of vital force / Antiquity of the theory of force-correlation / Universality of belief in magic
CHAPTER 8: SOME MYSTERIES OF NATURE (pages 253 – 292)
Do the planets affect human destiny? / Very curious passage from Hermes / The restlessness of matter / Prophecy of Nostradamus fulfilled / Sympathies between planets and plants / Hindu knowledge of the properties of colors / "Coincidences" the panacea of modern science / The moon and the tides / Epidemic mental and moral disorders / The gods of the Pantheons only natural forces / Proofs of the magical powers of Pythagoras / The viewless races of ethereal space / The "four truths" of Buddhism
CHAPTER 9: CYCLIC PHENOMENA (pages 293 – 337)
Meaning of the expression "coats of skin" / Natural selection and its results / The Egyptian "circle of necessity" / Pre-Adamite races / Descent of spirit into matter / The triune nature of man / The lowest creatures in the scale of being / Elementals specifically described / Proclus on the beings of the air / Various names for elementals / Swedenborgian views on soul-death / Earth-bound human souls / Impure mediums and their "guides" / Psychometry an aid to scientific research
CHAPTER 10: THE INNER AND OUTER MAN (pages 338 – 378)
Pere Felix arraigns the scientists / The "Unknowable" / Danger of evocations by tyros / Lares and Lemures / Secrets of Hindu temples / Reincarnation / Witchcraft and witches/ The sacred soma trance / Vulnerability of certain "shadows" / Experiment of Clearchus on a sleeping boy / The author witnesses a trial of magic in India / Case of the Cevennois
CHAPTER 11: PSYCHOLOGICAL AND PHYSICAL MARVELS (pages 379 – 416)
Invulnerability attainable by man / Projecting the force of the will / Insensibility to snake-poison / Charming serpents by music / Teratological phenomena discussed / The psychological domain confessedly unexplored / Despairing regrets of Berzelius / Turning a river into blood a vegetable phenomenon
CHAPTER 12: THE "IMPASSABLE CHASM" (pages 417 – 461)
Confessions of ignorance by men of science / The Pantheon of nihilism / Triple composition of fire / Instinct and reason defined / Philosophy of the Hindu Jains/ Deliberate misrepresentations of Lempriere / Man's astral soul not immortal / The reincarnation of Buddha / Magical sun and moon pictures of Thibet / Vampirism — its phenomena explained / Bengalese jugglery
CHAPTER 13: REALITIES AND ILLUSION (pages 462 – 514)
The rationale of talismans / Unexplained mysteries / Magical experiment in Bengal / Chibh Chondor's surprising feats / The Indian tape-climbing trick an illusion / Resuscitation of buried fakirs / Limits of suspended animation / Mediumship totally antagonistic to adeptship / What are "materialized spirits"? / The Shudala Madan / Philosophy of levitation / The elixir and alkahest
CHAPTER 14: EGYPTIAN WISDOM (pages 515 – 574)
Origin of the Egyptians / Their mighty engineering works / The ancient land of the Pharaohs / Antiquity of the Nilotic monuments / Arts of war and peace / Mexican myths and ruins / Resemblances to the Egyptian / Moses a priest of Osiris / The lessons taught by the ruins of Siam / The Egyptian Tau at Palenque
CHAPTER 15: INDIA THE CRADLE OF THE RACE (575 – 628)
Acquisition of the "secret doctrine" / Two relics owned by a Pali scholar / Jealous exclusiveness of the Hindus / Lydia Maria Child on Phallic symbolism / The age of the Vedas and Manu / Traditions of pre-diluvian races / Atlantis and its peoples / Peruvian relics / The Gobi desert and its secrets / Thibetan and Chinese legends / The magician aids, not impedes, nature / Philosophy, religion, arts and sciences bequeathed by Mother India to posterity
—————————————–
VOLUME 2
TITLE PAGE
PREFACE (iii – iv)
Mrs. Elizabeth Thompson and Baroness Burdett-Coutts.
————
Volume Second: THE "INFALLIBILITY" OF MODERN RELIGION.
CHAPTER 1: THE CHURCH: WHERE IS IT? (1-54)
Church statistics / Catholic "miracles" and spiritualistic "phenomena" / Christian and Pagan beliefs compared / Magic and sorcery practiced by Christian clergy / Comparative theology a new science / Eastern traditions as to Alexandrian Library / Roman pontiffs imitators of the Hindu Brahm-atma / Christian dogmas derived from heathen philosophy / Doctrine of the Trinity of Pagan origin / Disputes between Gnostics and Church Fathers / Bloody records of Christianity
CHAPTER 2: CHRISTIAN CRIMES AND HEATHEN VIRTUES. (55-122)
Sorceries of Catherine of Medicis / Occult arts practiced by the clergy / Witch-burnings and auto-da-fe of little children / Lying Catholic saints / Pretensions of missionaries in India and China / Sacrilegious tricks of Catholic clergy / Paul a kabalist / Peter not the founder of Roman church / Strict lives of Pagan hierophants / High character of ancient "mysteries" / Jacolliot's account of Hindu fakirs / Christian symbolism derived from Phallic worship / Hindu doctrine of the Pitris / Brahminic spirit-communion / Dangers of untrained mediumship /
CHAPTER 3: DIVISIONS AMONGST THE EARLY CHRISTIANS. (123-166)
Resemblance between early Christianity and Buddhism / Peter never in Rome / Meanings of "Nazar" and "Nazarene" / Baptism a derived right / Is Zoroaster a generic name? / Pythagorean teachings of Jesus / The Apocalypse kabalistic / Jesus considered an adept by some Pagan philosophers and early Christians / Doctrine of permutation / The meaning of God-Incarnate / Dogmas of the Gnostics / Ideas of Marcion, the "heresiarch" / Precepts of Manu / Jehovah identical with Bacchus
CHAPTER 4: ORIENTAL COSMOGONIES AND BIBLE RECORDS. (167-211)
Discrepancies in the Pentateuch / Indian, Chaldean and Ophite systems compared / Who were the first Christians? / Christos and Sophia-Achamoth / Secret doctrine taught by Jesus / Jesus never claimed to be God / New Testament narratives and Hindu legends / Antiquity of the "Logos" and "Christ" / Comparative Virgin-worship
CHAPTER 5: MYSTERIES OF THE KABALA. (212-250)
En-Soph and the Sephiroth / The primitive wisdom-religion / The book of Genesis a compilation of Old World legends / The Trinity of the Kabala / Gnostic and Nazarene systems contrasted with Hindu myths / Kabalism in the book of Ezekiel / Story of the resurrection of Jairus's daughter found in the history of Christna / Untrustworthy teachings of the early Fathers / Their persecuting spirit
CHAPTER 6: ESOTERIC DOCTRINES OF BUDDHISM PARODIED IN CHRISTIANITY. (251-290)
Decisions of Nicean Council, how arrived at / Murder of Hypatia / Origin of the fish-symbol of Vishnu / Kabalistic doctrine of the Cosmogony / Diagrams of Hindu and Chaldeo-Jewish systems / Ten mythical Avatars of Vishnu / Trinity of man taught by Paul / Socrates and Plato on soul and spirit / True Buddhism, what it is
CHAPTER 7: EARLY CHRISTIAN HERESIES AND SECRET SOCIETIES. (291-347)
Nazareans, Ophites, and modern Druzes / Etymology of IAO / "Hermetic Brothers" of Egypt / True meaning of Nirvana / The Jayna sect / Christians and Chrestians / The Gnostics and their detractors / Buddha, Jesus, and Apollonius of Tyana
CHAPTER 8: JESUITRY AND MASONRY. (348-404)
The Sohar and Rabbi Simeon / The Order of Jesuits and its relation to some of the Masonic orders / Crimes permitted to its members / Principles of Jesuitry compared with those of Pagan moralists / Trinity of man in Egyptian Book of the Dead / Freemasonry no longer esoteric / Persecution of Templars by the Church / Secret Masonic ciphers / Jehovah not the "Ineffable Name"
CHAPTER 9: THE VEDAS AND THE BIBLE. (405-476)
Nearly every myth based on some great truth / Whence the Christian Sabbath / Antiquity of the Vedas / Pythagorean doctrine of the potentialities of numbers / "Days" of Genesis and "Days" of Brahma / Fall of man and the Deluge in the Hindu books / Antiquity of the Mahabharata / Were the ancient Egyptians of the Aryan race? / Samuel, David, and Solomon mythical personages / Symbolism of Noah's Ark / The Patriarchs identical with zodiacal signs / All Bible legends belong to universal history
CHAPTER 10: THE DEVIL-MYTH. (477-529)
The devil officially recognized by the Church / Satan the mainstay of sacerdotalism / Identity of Satan with the Egyptian Typhon / His relation to serpent-worship / The Book of Job and the Book of the Dead / The Hindu devil a metaphysical abstraction / Satan and the Prince of Hell in the Gospel of Nicodemus
CHAPTER 11: COMPARATIVE RESULTS OF BUDDHISM AND CHRISTIANITY. (530-586)
The age of philosophy produced no atheists / The legends of three Saviours / Christian doctrine of the Atonement illogical / Cause of the failure of missionaries to convert Buddhists and Brahmanists / Neither Buddha nor Jesus left written records / The grandest mysteries of religion in the Bagaved-gita / The meaning of regeneration explained in the Satapa-Brahmana / The sacrifice of blood interpreted / Demoralization of British India by Christian missionaries / The Bible less authenticated than any other sacred book / Knowledge of chemistry and physics displayed by Indian jugglers
CHAPTER 12: CONCLUSIONS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. (587-640)
Recapitulation of fundamental propositions / Seership of the soul and of the spirit / The phenomenon of the so-called spirit-hand / Difference between mediums and adepts / Interview of an English ambassador with a reincarnated Buddha / Flight of a lama's astral body related by Abbe Huc / Schools of magic in Buddhist lamaseries / The unknown race of Hindu Todas / Will-power of fakirs and yogis / Taming of wild beasts by fakirs / Evocation of a living spirit by a Shaman, witnessed by the writer / Sorcery by the breath of a Jesuit Father / Why the study of magic is almost impracticable in Europe / Conclusion
APPENDICES
"Theories about Reincarnation and Spirits," by H. P. Blavatsky
"My Books," by H. P. Blavatsky
"How Isis Unveiled Was Written" by Alexander Wilder, M. D.
"Letters from H. P. Blavatsky to Alexander Wilder, M. D."

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Isis Unveiled by H. P. Blavatsky
Theosophical University Press Online Edition

Appendix 3
How "Isis Unveiled" Was Written.*
By Alexander Wilder, M. D.
From The Word, May 1908 (7:2)
*The authorship of "Isis Unveiled" has sometimes been questioned. Some persons have claimed it for themselves. The one individual best able to bear witness, from among all who had personal knowledge of the authorship, is Alexander Wilder, physician and scholar, the most able of the Platonists. To-day, at 85 years, he has the buoyancy of youth, the mental virility of manhood, and all with his Platonic "enthusiasm." — H. W. P.
One morning in the autumn of 1876, I saw in the New York "Tribune" the mention of a work in process of publication styled "Art-Magic," which would treat of recondite subjects. Having from earlier years been interested in such matters, I wrote to the address there given and received a reply from Mrs. Hardinge-Britton. Besides answering my inquiry, she told me of the forming of a Theosophical Society, then taking place. But I did not pursue this clue. I had become disgusted with individual pretensions to superior powers, and unusual names have for me no attraction. Some weeks later, however, learning that the book had been printed, I called upon Mrs. Britton and received a copy. She stated that the author did not give his name, and that he would not require the payment which I was to make, paying a compliment to my intellectual qualifications as something unusual in this field. The book was very interesting to me, and contained many valuable nuggets in relation to arcane matters. Unfortunately, there was no index, and the omission of an index takes away half the usefulness of a book to a student. There was no allusion in the book to the Theosophical Society, and I had no curiosity to know about the organization.
At that time I had been editing several publications for Mr. J. W. Bouton, a bookseller in New York, and was lecturing and contributing papers for one or two periodicals. Other engagements and associations had been laid aside. I had barely heard of Madame Blavatsky, but in no connection with anything relating to Theosophy, or other subject that I knew anything about. She had been described as having introduced herself to an acquaintance as a "rushing Russian," and her manner had attracted attention. Nothing more was elicited at that time.
On a pleasant afternoon, in early autumn, some months later, I was alone in the house. The bell was rung, and I answered at the door. Colonel Henry S. Olcott was there with an errand to myself. I did not recognize him, as I had never had any occasion to make his acquaintance, but he having had some governmental business with one of my employers several years before, had known me ever since. He had never suspected, however, that I took any interest whatever in unusual subjects; so completely successful had I been in keeping myself unknown even to those who from daily association imagined that they knew me very thoroughly. A long service in journalism, familiar relations with public men, and active participation in political matters, seemed to have shut out from notice an ardent passion for mystic speculation, and the transcendental philosophy. I think that Colonel Olcott had himself been taken somewhat by surprise.
He had been referred to me by Mr. Bouton. Madam Blavatsky had compiled a work upon occult and philosophic subjects, and Mr. Bouton had been asked in relation to undertaking its publication. Why it had been referred to me I could never well understand. Mr. Bouton had taken passage for England a few days before, and I had visited him several times, even going over from Newark to bid him farewell the morning that he left. Yet he had not said a word to me about the manuscript. Did he really expect me to read it, or was he merely endeavoring to shirk having anything to do with it without actually refusing outright? I am now inclined to the opinion that he referred Colonel Olcott to me to evade saying "No." At the time, however, I supposed that, although the mode of proceeding was not that of a man of business, Mr. Bouton really meant that I should examine the work, and I agreed to undertake the task.
It was truly a ponderous document and displayed research in a very extended field, requiring diligence, familiarity with the various topics, as well as a purpose to be fair to the writer. Regarding myself as morally obligated to act for the advantage of Mr. Bouton, I showed no favor beyond what I believed justice to demand. I regarded it a duty to be severe. In my report to him, I stated that the manuscript was the product of great research, and that so far as related to current thinking, there was a revolution in it, but I added that I deemed it too long for remunerative publishing.
Mr. Bouton, however, presently agreed to publish the work. I never learned the terms, but subsequent occurrences led me to presume that they were not carefully considered. He procured the copyright in his own name, which enabled him to control the price, and he refused every proposition afterward to transfer the ownership to the author, or to cheapen the cost. He placed the manuscript again in my hands, with instructions to shorten it as much as it would bear. This was a discretionary power that was far from agreeable. It can hardly be fair that a person acting solely in behalf of the publisher should have such authority over the work of an author. Nevertheless, I undertook the task. While abridging the work, I endeavored in every instance to preserve the thought of the author in plain language, removing only such terms and matter as might be regarded as superfluous, and not necessary to the main purpose. In this way, enough was taken out to fill a volume of respectable dimensions. In doing all this, I consulted only what I supposed to be Mr. Bouton's advantage, and believed that he so regarded it, as I had only his instructions. But it proved to be only a "labor of love."
Colonel Olcott was very desirous that I should become acquainted with Madam Blavatsky. He appeared to hold her in high regard closely approaching to veneration, and to consider the opportunity to know her a rare favor for any one. I was hardly able to share his enthusiasm. Having a natural diffidence about making new acquaintances, and acting as a critic upon her manuscript, I hesitated for a long time. Finally, however, these considerations were passed over and I accompanied him to their establishment in Forty-seventh Street.
It was a "flat," that unhomelike fashion of abode that now extends over populous cities, superseding the household and family relationship wherever it prevails. The building where they lived had been "transmogrified" for such purposes, and they occupied a suite of apartments on an upper floor. The household in this case comprised several individuals, with separate employments. They generally met at meal-time, together with such guests from elsewhere as might happen to be making a visit.
The dining room was furnished in simple style with no affectation of anything unusual or extraordinary. Perhaps, I ought to add that later in the year following, this condition was quite considerably modified. The autumn of 1879 was characterized, as I have never since observed it, by the richness of color in the foliage. Numerous parties visited the woods around to gather the tinted leaves for ornamental purposes. One of the inmates of the flat, a foreigner who was in rapport with the Theosophical fraternity, had in this way, procured a large quantity and set herself to use them to decorate the dining room. She made several emblematic figures, the double triangle being the principal one of these. Then she followed with an Oriental landscape extending the length of the apartment. There were to be seen the figures of an elephant, a monkey, and other creatures, and a man standing as if contemplating the scene. This decoration remained through the winter till the household had broken up. I then brought it away to Newark and set it up in a hall. Here it remained several years. It was there when Mr. G. R. S. Mead visited me. I sent it afterward to Miss Caroline Hancock at Sacramento, and she in turn presented it to the Theosophical Society at San Francisco. Doubtless it has long since met the fate of wornout furniture. But it had notoriety in its earlier days, from the admiration of visitors for its ingenuity and oddness of conception, and descriptions of it were published in several newspapers.
The study in which Madam Blavatsky lived and worked was arranged after a quaint and very primitive manner. It was a large front room, and being on the side next the street, was well lighted. In the midst of this was her "den," a spot fenced off on three sides by temporary partitions, writing desk and shelves for books. She had it as convenient as it was unique. She had but to reach out an arm to get a book, paper or other article that she might desire, that was within the enclosure. The place could not accord with a vivid sense of beauty, except after the ancient Greek conception that beauty is fitness for its purpose, everything certainly being convenient and handy. In this place Madam Blavatsky reigned supreme, gave her orders, issued her judgments, conducted her correspondence, received her visitors and produced the manuscript of her book.
She did not resemble in manner or figure what I had been led to expect. She was tall, but not strapping; her countenance bore the marks and exhibited the characteristics of one who had seen much, thought much, traveled much, and experienced much. Her figure reminded me of the description which Hippokrates has given to the Scyths, the race from which she probably descended. Her dress I do not feel competent to describe, and in fact never noticed so as to be able to remember. I am a man and seldom observant of a woman's attire. My attention is given to the individual, and unless the clothing should be strikingly different from the current style, I would be unable to speak of it intelligently or intelligibly. All that I have to say is that she was completely dressed. Her appearance was certainly impressive, but in no respect was she coarse, awkward, or ill-bred. On the other hand she exhibited culture, familiarity with the manners of the most courtly society and genuine courtesy itself. She expressed her opinions with boldness and decision, but not obtrusively. It was easy to perceive that she had not been kept within the circumscribed limitations of a common female education; she knew a vast variety of topics and could discourse freely upon them.
In several particulars, I presume that I never fairly or fully understood her. Perhaps this may have extended further than I am willing to admit. I have heard tell of her profession of superhuman powers and of extraordinary occurrences that would be termed miraculous. I, too, believe, like Hamlet, that there are more things in heaven and earth than our wise men of this age are willing to believe. But Madam Blavatsky never made any such claim to me. We always discoursed of topics which were familiar to both, as individuals on a common plane. Colonel Olcott often spoke to me as one who enjoyed a grand opportunity, but she herself made no affectation of superiority. Nor did I ever see or know of any such thing occurring with anyone else.
She professed, however, to have communicated with personages whom she called "the Brothers," and intimated that this, at times, was by the agency, or some means analogous to what is termed "telepathy." It is not necessary to show or insist that this mode of communication has been known and even carried on from antiquity. The Khabar is well known in the Orient. I have supposed that an important condition for ability to hold such intercourse was abstinence from artificial stimulation such as comes from the use of flesh as food, alcoholic drink and other narcotic substances. I do not attach any specific immorality to these things, but I have conjectured that such abstemiousness was essential in order to give the mental powers full play, and to the noetic faculty free course without impediment or contamination from lower influence. But Madam Blavatsky displayed no such asceticism. Her table was well furnished, but without profusion, and after a manner not differing from that of other housekeepers. Besides, she indulged freely in the smoking of cigarettes, which she made as she had occasion. I never saw any evidence that these things disturbed, or in any way interfered with her mental acuteness or activity.
At my first visit, her reception was courteous and even friendly. She seemed to become acquainted at once. She spoke of the abridgements which I had made of her manuscript, extolling what I had done far beyond what it deserved. "What had been taken out was 'flapdoodle,' " she declared. My judgment, certainly, had not been so severe as that. I had not looked for defects, or found them, but only to ascertain how the manuscript might be "boiled down," without affecting the general purpose. In other cases, it has been my rule to scrutinize unprinted manuscript in quest of faults, but to look when it has been printed, to find out its meaning and merits. In this instance, however, I had aimed only to shorten without marring the work. It should be stated, however, as a fact in the publication of this work, that Madam Blavatsky continued to add matter, after Mr. Bouton began the undertaking, and I think that much of the second volume was then written. I have no recollection of much of it except in proof sheets at a later period.
It was no easy matter to give the publication a fitting title. I do not remember that my services were asked in this matter, and certainly they would not have been worth the asking. It is a department in which I am particularly weak. Nor do I think the name unexceptionable which was adopted.
Mr. Bouton is entitled to that distinction. He was a skilful caterer in the bookselling world to which he belonged, but he had business ability rather than a sense of fitness. He once published the treatise of R. Payne Knight on Ancient Art and added pictures relating solely to Hindu mythology, entirely foreign to the subject. This work of Madam Blavatsky is largely based upon the hypothesis of a prehistoric period of the Aryan people in India, and in such a period the veil or the unveiling of Isis can hardly be said to constitute any part. On the contrary, it is a dramatic representation peculiar to the religion and wisdom of Egypt and perhaps is allied to the Syrian Hyksos enormities. Certainly the problems of Egyptian lore are to be considered with other pens than those with which " Isis Unveiled " was written.
After the work had been printed and placed on sale, there was discussion in regard to the actual authorship. Many were unwilling to acknowledge that Madam Blavatsky could be sufficiently well informed or intellectually capable of such a production. True that women like Frances Burney had composed romances of high merit. Miss Farley had conducted successfully the " Lowell Offering." Mary Somerville had written on Physical Science, and Harriet Martineau on Political Economy.
A clergyman in New York, a member of the Russian Greek Church, I have been told, affirmed that I was the actual author. That report, however, can hardly have gone far. It would be refuted after the manner that the late Henry Ward Beecher put a stop to a similar one. He tells us that when Uncle Tom's Cabin was published there were many who insisted that he, and not Mrs. Stowe was the author. "Then," says Mr. Beecher, "I wrote Norwood," which entirely disposed of the matter. So, too, nobody familiar with my style of writing would ever impute to me the authorship of Isis Unveiled.
I would hesitate, likewise, to be considered in any noteworthy sense as an editor of the work. It is true that after Mr. Bouton had agreed to become the publisher, I was asked to read the proof sheets and make sure that the Hebrew words and terms belonging to other languages were correctly given by the printer, but I added nothing, and do not remember that I ventured to control anything that was contributed to the work. Without her knowledge and approval, such action would have been reprehensible.
While she was engaged in the work, she had many books relating to the various topics, evidently for consultation. There were Jacolliot's work on India, Bunsen's Egypt, Ennemoser's History of Magic and others. I had myself written papers upon a variety of subjects for the Phrenological Journal and other periodicals, and she had procured many of them. We often discussed the topics, and their various characteristics, for she was a superior conversationalist and at home on every matter about which we discoursed. She spoke the English language with the fluency of one perfectly familiar with it, and who thought in it. It was the same to me as though talking with any man of my acquaintance. She was ready to take the idea as it was expressed, and uttered her own thoughts clearly, concisely and often forcibly. Some of the words which she employed had characteristics which indicated their source. Any thing which she did not approve or hold in respect she promptly disposed of as "flapdoodle." I have never heard or encountered the term elsewhere. Not even the acts or projects of Colonel Olcott escaped such scathing, and in fact he not unfrequently came under her scorching criticism. He writhed under it, but, except for making some brief expression at the time, he did not appear to cherish resentment.
In regard to the genuineness of her authorship, a story was once told me, which has been imagined by some to have a direct relation to the matter. I suppose this to be the occasion of several letters addressed to me upon the subject. My informant was the late Mrs. Elizabeth Thompson of Boston. Mrs. Thompson was a woman of wealth, abounding with benevolent purposes, but eager for novelties that were more or less visionary, shifting from one pursuit to another, and accessible to flattery. For example, she gave the money which enabled a medical college to hold several lecture terms, and then let the enterprise die out; she paid for building a chapel for the sessions of the Summer School of Philosophy at Concord, and then tired of the enterprise; she aided Dr. Newbrough with money to print his new bible Oahspe, and employed the artist, Mr. Frank Carpenter, to paint the picture of President Lincoln and his cabinet, which she presented to Congress. The wealth which her husband had bequeathed to her became a bait for all manner of parasites to seek her, and flattery artfully bestowed was often like the magical words: "Open, sesame," sure to find the way to her purse. But she quickly dropped one for another.
For a little time she was attracted to Madam Blavatsky. This was somewhat to be wondered at, for it is hard to conceive that Madam Blavatsky flattered anybody. She did not hesitate to tell Henry Ward Beecher when he was at the height of his popularity, that he was not an honest public teacher.
It might be questioned whether Mrs. Thompson herself was quite sincere. I remember meeting her one day at dinner at the flat. A statement which I made was imputed by Colonel Olcott to the "Astral light."
Some days later, I saw Mrs. Thompson at her own premises, and she asked me my opinion in a manner that impressed me that she was hardly straightforward in her relations with the Theosophical household.
A year or so afterward, they had left New York for India. Mrs. Thompson had become an inmate of the family of Dr. Newbrough on West 34th Street. He was endeavoring to push the "new Bible" into circulation. I called there one day by invitation, and learning that she had rooms in the house, paid her my respects. In our conversation, Madam Blavatsky was mentioned, and Mrs. Thompson spoke of her in these terms:
"If Madam Blavatsky should come in at that door I should kiss her affectionately. At the same time I believe her to be a perfect humbug."'
She then related the following story: Baron de Palm, a German gentleman, who spent some time in this country, had died in Roosevelt Hospital. He had devoted much attention to arcane subjects, and had written upon them. He was intimate with the party on 47th Street, and made them recipients of his property, but with the assurance that his body should be cremated. There was a woman in the household who seems to have become unfriendly and ready to talk at random. She told Mrs. Thompson that after the death of the Baron she was with Madam Blavatsky while examining the contents of his trunks. One of these, the woman said, was full of manuscripts. Madam Blavatsky looked at a few of the pages, and then hastily closed the trunk, making an effort to divert attention in another direction.
Mrs. Thompson apparently believed that this manuscript was the material of the work Isis Unveiled. Certainly she endeavored to give me that impression. But I am not apt at taking hints, and do not like others to suppose that I imply what I do not explicitly say. The giving of hints is hardly an honorable practice; it is an evasion, and often simply the affectation of knowing something beyond which is directly communicated. I never made use of this story, and repeated it only to Dr. R. B. Westbrook, of Philadelphia, and to Colonel Olcott when I next met him in New York.
Several individuals have written letters, as though I knew something that would discredit the sincerity of Madam Blavatsky and the genuineness of the originality of Isis Unveiled. My reply was that she had always dealt justly with me, and I had no disposition to speak unkindly of her. I mean always to avoid being sycophantic or credulous, but I will not recompense fair treatment by evil or unfriendly speaking.
It will readily be perceived that there was really no evidence sufficient to warrant the imputing of the authorship of Isis Unveiled to Baron de Palm. I do not know whether, being of foreign birth, he could write fluently in the English language. It is not known that the manuscript in the trunk was written for publication, or was in any proper book form. Indeed, I have never been informed whether he contemplated such a work, or even that he had sufficient capacity. All this would require to be taken for granted, before it would be permissible to presume any imposture in the authorship.
The manuscript which I handled I am very sure was in the handwriting of Madam Blavatsky herself. Anybody who was familiar with her, would, upon reading the first volume of Isis Unveiled, not have any difficulty in recognizing her as the author. Nor was the manuscript, voluminous as it was, sufficiently extensive to include a large trunk full of written paper. Besides, a full third, or even more, of what was published, was written by Madam Blavatsky after Mr. Bouton had set about putting the work in type. She was by no means expert in preparing her material. She patched and changed, making a very large bill for "alterations." Indeed, she never actually finished the work, the publisher declared to me, till he told her that she must stop.
It had been desired of me that I should read the proofsheets. It was not my province to dictate or even suggest what should be included in the work, and I do not remember taking exception but once. She had described certain medical treatment, with apparent approval, in which mercury was a factor. To this drug I entertain a lifelong antipathy. I have seen individuals "railroaded" out of life by its use as medicine, and others crippled hopelessly. My protestations may have induced her to qualify her eulogy.
She always treated me with courtesy. When her work was most urgent, or she had been wearied with visitors, she commanded the woman at the door to turn off all callers. That prohibition was repeatedly spoken to me, but as she heard my voice, she would call out to admit me. This occurred when the call was not a matter of business. She was ready in conversation, and was at home on any topic, however abstruse. Few persons in any walk of life are as well supplied with material for discourse. Even Colonel Olcott, who was by no means inferior or commonplace, was not her equal except in his own profession.
Believing that the main body of the work would not be sufficiently attractive to purchasers, I urged her to include in it accounts of the marvellous things which she had observed in India. But this she invariably declined to do, saying that it was not permitted by "the Brothers." That was a tribunal that I could not question; my wisdom in the matter was that of the market-place. But she was always ready to hear what I had to say, whether in relation to her work, or to philosophic questions, or to subjects of everyday life. When the printer had placed everything in type, I was employed to prepare the index. Others must judge whether this was done with fidelity. As the author paid for this, and the publisher refrained from advancing a cent for all that I had done in the matter, though careful to make sure of all the proceeds from the sales, it is but just to render the acknowledgement where it is due.
The work was finally completed, and Isis Unveiled was duly issued. The household began at once to make arrangements for leaving New York. Madam Blavatsky visited the Bureau of Naturalization and there became a citizen of the United States. This astonished me, partly because I knew her to be contemplating to leave the country permanently, and partly because she had freely criticized our ways of doing and our politics. She explained that the American nation had the best government. There were probably matters of law involved that I did not know about. Colonel Olcott was a skillful lawyer, and had been employed by the administration at Washington to ferret out alleged violations of law, he knew what would be necessary abroad for a safeguard. As the party after their arrival in India became objects of suspicion as possible spies of the Russian Government, it is not unlikely that the precaution was wise.
Madam Blavatsky wrote to me several times after their arrival at Bombay. She told of many matters of interest to a student in comparative religions, such as I am, and her letters were entertaining as well as instructive. But as time passed, new duties took the place of old recollections. Such events occurred as the break with Dayananda, the leader of the Arya Samaj, an alliance unnatural for Americans of Protestant antecedents, who do not like any one to exercise dominion over their religious beliefs. The Theosophist, however, came regularly to me and was preserved from its first number. This enabled me to keep track of the party, and their doings — till the closing of their present earthly career.

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MORIANITY PART V, CHAPTER LXXXIV, KING NEBNOOSHOO BLOGS

MORIANITY PART V

CHAPTER LXXXIV

Two in the morning, 21 May in twenty-ten.
Tuesday, here in Fort Pierce, Florida on another really nasty mother fucking SUPER ASS BOTBAR!

Well people, this will be a WHOPPER TODAY, and you may quote any of three people here, Professor Pepperwinkle on the original high phone bill Superman show, President Obama, and then finally, little old nobody me, Mountainpen.

I am not going to entertain you all with huge fonts, super wild stupid swearing, or anything else like a blog over filled with brah’s and bro’s and bree’s and yo’s. You will do yourself an extreme disfavor if you skip it however, and you just go ahead and do this at your free will and choice, both WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE and tiny group mingled in, known as my Morians (BELIEVERS in my truths, for the most part or perhaps entirely). I am holding at a MPB-40% as of yesterday’s horrendous emmereffing day that will close out when I finish this blog, post it up, and go to ‘sleep’, as mortal world residents would call the experience. But this blog will contain quite a bit of tattle tailing and powerful stuff, ignore it at your own potential funeral somewhere down the dimly lit road, good kind folks, whoever you are, as frankly, Mister Rett Butler, I do not care about those details, or for that matter, Congressman Andrews, whether the city or the river, ran away with my mind, or whether or not I have been lost in time, all these dam years, sir. I will open by telling you that I knew I would get clobbered on my dam systems-roulette tonight, and was not disappointed a small fraction, losing 26 and a half emmereffing units. You can expect the DOW JONES INDUSTRIALS to rise on tomorrow’s markets, somewhere between 250 and 600 points, and you can bank on it folks, I PROMISE YOU, LOVELY MO! Yes, I played five games, and got clocked, mostly on the final game, as before that, I was only down three units, and was stupid, and could not see the freaking writing on the wall as clear as Johnny Clariton 1-2-3 ripoffs Lovernash, and merely quit at this small loss for the day, knowing fully well, it could only do a Howard Solomon Busted Eardrum, or an anti-dice, or whatever, but real followers need not force me to spell out the appropriate five letter word that starts with a ‘W’, and ends with an ‘E’, no rabbits, no Mike McNulty’s, sorry, no time tonight. There’s too much to rock chucking say and I do not wish to type all throughout the night. You will get your mind blown, unless you do not want to, and have joined the two great world renown clubs, the Missourians Club and the GWPOS CLUB, either or, or both; makes little difference. The days of my doing security detail out in my car, at the Cifaloglio place, comes to mind. The greatest system in the universe could be used, but if I was being dive bombed by WOMO ENEMY AIR STRIKES, abnd the skies were filled yo the brim with nasty ass chemtrails, making me ill and causing me to crap myself many times; there is no way I could ever win. The weak link in the system I am currently using is an over abundance of house vig numbers as well as the evil-side-doubleton pattern, as one pattern wins, and the other one destroys the system, and when it comes in, it comes in with a vengeance, and you can play the dam wheel forever, and it will only change if you do the unthinkable and try betting against the system, as that inside the quantum foam of real true reality, makes the system then start to work, and the bad patterns go away. BUT, you still lose, either way you play the game,literally, and figuratively. I got both hits tonight, clocked by runt slapping green numbers or the house vig, as well as that one pattern that kills and seems to remain endlessly unless you quit that wheel, and this is the evil-side-doubleton pattern. This has a twin side that makes a killing, as do strings and alternates, but this one pattern type, will wipe out this particular gaming betting system, I promise. So why does the one pattern come out so vigorously, tenaciously, obstinately, and regularly, and by that I mean you can set your watch to it if you are me, as all super attacks will eventually bring the one pattern that just will not quit, and really wipes me out, and I can count the truck on it, folks. This was a serious botbar day, and I am five for seven now, in other words only 5-non-botbar days were in the last seven days total, and for the month, I am now 12 botbar days for the 20 days of May so friggin’ far, good people. I did speak to Debbie Marotto, but it is merely a futile expenditure of energy. No on else complains, and the architecture of the system is why. Don’t ask me the details, it is too lengthy. Being across from these bastard scum bags, only I get the full brunt of their evil wickedness, and unless others complain, no one will ever help me. You see, this is proof that I do not count in this world one tiny bit. No one gives a blasted dam if I live or die, not one soul, and so, I do not care one bit about this world, and it can go blow up right now, and that is just fine with me. Do you want honesty or deception, from this blogger. You’re the one reading my words, do you want them to just be a bunch of pretty sounding lies? Now let me begin to break down this horrible botbar day for you, my believers. It started with hearing a loud aerial vessel outside, I am sure of it. Now the rest of the entire day was air free for me, nothing out of the ordinary, once I went out to do an errand or two, and boy will we explore what happened to me, good folks, and really, if you are not sitting down, I strongly urge you to do so before reading further along. If you do not and you hit you head when you fall down, please don’t blame me, as I TOLD YOU!

After the air sound, while I was reading some of my stuff on the computer, and after being up and awake a short time, arising around quarter past eleven or so yesterday morning; the evil mother fuckin g neighbors across from me began their BING BANG BONG BOOMING of doors, over and over and over again, FORT PIERCE POLICE DEPARTMENT AND NARCOTICS DIVISION! I was going to go out later on in the afternoon, but it was as though the forces of Misses 1969 Marola, and her ‘MUST HAVE ME DO THE SCHOOL PLAY’ ON MEMORIAL DAY, stuff all over again; that put me on some perfect cosmic schedule, just as it did back then, to be on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, at a perfectly timed minute and second, so as to witness and experience something; and this time, it was again, all done for me to be someplace, and witness another awesome something; and so let me now get to all of that. First I spoke to my Resident Manager, after returning from my errands, and not initially. All I did was take out my trash and throw it down the chute on my floor near the elevators, even my mail was not checked and received by me, until I returned back to the building. I wanted to get up to the HARVEST, and see my old pal, JASPER. I was not going to rest, until I told him a very horrible thing that Mikey had accused him of, with no evidence or real good reason whatsoever, and we will not get into it all, although, the local television reporters may know just exactly what is being talked about here right now on this blog. I never agreed with him about this, and did not like it when he did all that trash talking, but only after he totally screwed me over and vanished, was I boiling mad, and decided a few days ago that indeed, I would retaliate and tell Jasper how he has been trash talking his reputation all over town, and he has, and then Jasper told me, he is aware that someone in fact was spreading that around, and he was quite appreciative to learn that it was Mikey. I only rat out rats that deserve it. Only if you hurt me will I rat you out on something, really hurt me, and fior no good dam ass reason. If I see something that is none of my business,m I walk on and that is that. I have seen and witnessed enough things in my life to write a billion essays on it, but again, I stress that I am not a rat. A rat does this. I do not really tattle-tail, I just feel that when someone does me real friggin’ wrong, then they deserve a little payback, and if most people are honest with themselves, they will tell me they agree with me. Now I mean this people, be sitting down for what I’ll tell you next, L-4.

I did not purchase one single item at the Harvest Store back yesterday, Monday, and I may have indeed needed a few snacks, some cookies and crackers and stuff that normally would cost 30 bucks, that you can get for about 5 bucks there, just because the stuff may be a month [past expiration dates. 4:5, the stuff is fresh and good, so risking 5 dollars and usually coming up a winner, does not bother me at all. I mean they sell limeade and lemonade for 5-9 bucks for 6 gallons or 12 half-gallon cartons. It is not always in the cooler, many times just apple juice or orange juice is there, and I am only a grape juice and lime and lemon drinker. Still, I only had telling Jasper what I told him, on my mind, and I did, and things seemed to be getting better on the day until I got down the mother freaking road about 2 blocks. There would never be a real need for a dam cop or a dam law, if everyone had my conscience, and upbringing; and try as I might not to brag; I am a gentleman when I am outside my door. I don’t curse or rarely, and never around women and children; and I watch my manners, and act refined. I don’t put on airs or the dog, or any of that. I don’t go ‘dahhling’, and use nine syllable words or try showing off or bragging about my Huntington family. Nobody knows me, and I try to keep it all that way, other than for screaming out online about my life and the injustices involved, and the people involved as well, that I feel totally, are causing it all, and are totally responsible for it all. I am not all that shy on my blogs, nor am I sorry. But outside my door in the real world, I behave my freaking self. I never ever look at girls, I never ever do anything wrong or illegal. Women always bothered me all my life, not the other way around. Now that I am old and ugly, most of the time, this has lessened, praise the gods!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, I got down the road a few blocks, and my conscience started bothering me real ass fucking bad, good people. I know I shouldn’t have ratted the bastard out. He really hurt me, the mother fucker. Still, is that any reason or excuse for me to be no better than him, by my behavior being rotten and shitty? The answer of course is an unequivocal NO. I still feel way more terrible and guilty than I feel compensated or relieved or avenged. I was brought up by a very good mother, praise the gods, and all though I did not believe all her religious horse shit 100%, I have come to know that there is something out there beyond any and all human reasoning, as I have experienced a lifetime of shit that proves and verifies this totally, and could witness in any and every church on this planet!!!!!!!!!! But it gets way way way freaking better than this, so hold onto your big ugly hat, Mister McGraw, you bumpkin! Wow what an ego bruise for him, Microsoft. Let me move on now.

Feeling about three feet tall, 25 inches less than I really am, there I was in my car, now heading away from the Harvest Store, and towards the PUBLIX GROCERY STORE in town, on Route-1 or the (Federal Highway), same thing. Mikey goes to this store and this mini-mall a lot, and banks at the bank there as well, and I know all that from back when I was helping him to do his errands after he had just left the Lawnwood Hospital here in town, and after he was recuperating from his surgical procedure for his hernia problems. I spotted him walking towards one of the stores that was perhaps half a dozen stores to the north of the Publix, in this very large mini-mall area. He has a walk that no one else in this world has, and is very slender and I know him from the front as well as the back like I know the back of my hands. I slowly crept up on him, as you need to drive slowly in a mini-mall anyway, and I managed to get ahead of him abnd look both ways before making a right turn to head closer to a parking area for the Publix Customers, but I looked back with my eyes in the rear view mirror, and get ready folks, and this is gospel truth so help me, I swear this under penalty of libel, perjury, slander, and any criminal maliciousness whatsoever, as well as on the Almighty Goddess Herself, SSJKK, (Sarah-Stacey Krassle), Queen of the Astral plane. Not only was it Mikey, but he colored his hair and changed the style of it, it is totally yellow blond, and he has totally different eyegklasses as well. I have known this mid sixtyish man fior the entire time I have lived down here in florida, as he always was working the fronbt desk of the HARVEST, and I went there for help when I first got into town, on advice from the landlady of the RV-PARK, the Manatee RV Park, also on Route-1, in the white City section of town, at the opposite corner from where the Harvest place is, as they are yup in the north-west, and White City is down in the south-east corner of this large 7 mile square town area of nearly 50 square miles. This man would never under any ordinary circumstances, ever do anything one tenth as absurd as dying his hair bright yellow, altering his appearance entirely, and yes, even his style of dress was day and night difference, from what I knew all that time that I knew this man. Dick Wolf and Donald Trump, and all their pals could not say it better, and they did say it over and over, right there on the television broadcast, during many airings of the greatest law show ever, surpassing even the once all time great PERRY MASON, and I quote them, with their permission hopefully; “YOU JUST CAN’T MAKE THIS KIND OF STUFF UP”. Then again, you cannot make up 1969, 1974, 1980, and shall I really bother to go on, ladies and gentlemen? Anyone able to make up something even close to MORIANITY, well, I would bow down to them as I would the freaking Almighty. So boweth not down to me folks, as I am not worthy, I did not make any of this up, nor would I have one thousandth of the sufficient amount of talent to indeed do so, and when I’m accused of this, it is quite a boost to my little tiny nobody worthless ego!

Before I take us still onward, I will tell you what GAGA kitty and I discussed, two little Q&A deals, that you may be interested in hearing about.

Why is this sudden super super super DEATH-SIEGE, on me, beginning on Tuesday, May the fourteenth, that has as of now, brought me 5 super botbar days out of the last seven days and bringing me now to a major monster 40% Magnetic Percentage Botbar (MPB)?

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, AND NO PIANO SONGS, PCN-981.

Why did the Almighty SSJKK show me her demise in a parallel universe, right before this middle Mat 2013 death period in my life, and tell me that she is not planning to leave her great city that much longer to come here?

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, AND NO PIANO SONGS, PCN-352.

S don’t fucking dare list the shit, people, but you should know a lot of these match list items, and you can figure some more out on your own, and always feel free to comment and tell me some new ones, I will not act all ignorant and stupid like I did last time someone posted a video on my blog. Nobody ever tells me shit, and I do not know that peeps do this online, I am fucking old YO, and dumb as fucking ass hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HAVE PITY ON ME! God Almighty, that is more than dirt fucking bag Jane F. is ever going to after wrecking my life 20 years ago at the fucking Atlanta, Georgia, USA Ballpark that horrible monster ass night with that zoom in ones display, and now it is again, mother fucking page eleven of eleven, so let me try and compensate here, please. TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555, PUSS 555555555, CRIMES 555555555555555555555555, DIVIDED CRY 5555555555; IS EQUAL TO WHO FUCKING BUNT-TAPPING CARES. LET ME LOOK AT THESE NICE, NO, NOT ONES, BUT FIVES; DO YOU SEE THE POWER OF THE WOMO ENEMY, AND THEIR DIRT BAG FUCKING ETTOS YET, BELIEVERS?????????????? They made me type, ‘those lovely ones’, that is a MIND-HACK, and it is done with real POWER, Patty Jane Greatnecks!!!!!!!!!!!!

So aim those magical bullets at me at your wonderful bully bar, Robert, the old Morianity-Foundation Website, displayed a total proof of your transdimensional abilities in many various ways, on that October day back in filthy OHM-6! I tried putting a comma, after the green word ‘ME’ and it hacked out a lot of stuff, so I hit the undo last thing key, and cannot place a comma where it needs to go. This is the power of daring to talk about crossing over the Amtrak or the Chappaquiddick Bridge, good believers.

MAGNESONIC, I NEED MAJOR HELP AND MAJOR STRIKES AGAINST MY ENEMIES, ALL ORDERS, ALL TECKS, ALL COMMANDS, DO IT, DO NOT SPARE THESE DIRT BAGS, SO EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AND S——-T——-O——-P! I have decided to tell lots of other things at a later time, pillow talking daddy of Star Trek-74. E/T!