mickflorida chapter 018

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
MY INTERACTIONS WITH THE (MILLIONTH-COUNCIL) HERE IN FLORIDA
WORLD-LABS SEND BACK TEXT DATFILE: C018---060310.510---BJWSC---02
BLOG CHAPTER #018---BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

I took a major fucking ass punishment from the cock sucking evil and quite super diseased WOMO-TAWF, formerly SRI-PRINCE-KING, known as the spelled fully out, WORLD OWNERS of the MILITARY UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECTS FORCE of the ORGANIZED TRASH AGAINST MARK WAYNE MOHR (MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN). I left the library after posting up blog #017, and went 4 a swim in the ocean on South-Beach. When I got back 2 my freaking RV, it all seemed quiet and desolated, until the second I placed my freaking pucking key into the mother freaking lock of my door so that I may enter into my legally paid 4 residence, and POW, and BOOM, and GUNS OF FUCKING CUNT LAPPING NAVARONE TIME!!!!!! Suddenly the dog appeared somewhere out of nowhere, and was yelping away at full blast, just POPPED UP. Then all the nabes from fucking hell also just POPPED UP, they were all screaming and really whooping it up, as though they had been just waiting 4 my fucking return and could give me a real heavy dose of persecution and harassment. Lots of scum and trash and slime were all over the place, and yet just seconds prior, all was calm and quiet. I would turn my back on an angry ocean 4 a longer period of time than I would turn it with these fucking enemies of mine from fucking WOMO, BRO!!!!! I said a couple blogs ago how the moon of JUPITER called IO is always popping up also, on blogs unintentionally, when I mean 2 type in just the (I) or the freaking (O). Just yesterday’s blog I believe had this occur again. It is as though, despite my keeping this entire move of mine on Friday, totally hush fucking hush, even from my RV PARK OFFICE, know one has any so-called ‘REAL-WORLD’ way of knowing that I will B gone and have ‘ESCAPED’ again, some nasty mother fucking domestic abuse, twice within the same fucking decade, and within just a few short calendar years, it really is as if they have some way of knowing every single thing I’m doing, I know they do, and I know I am fucking correct. Things quieted down eventually, and then started up again this morning, around nine, as always, in and out and in and out, and when I hand my keys into the office soon, I will B telling many things about these mother fucking diseased squat eaters next door at #125 RV. They have numerous continual visitors and stay over’s, and all against PARK POLICY, and I am telling it all, I’ll have my mother fucking retaliation and revenge, ya’ filthy fucking twat eating toilet water straw suckers.

I attended my “Seniors Meeting” at the Harvest Outreach this morning, and B4 getting there, stopped at a bank that is now my local Wachovia branch here in FPF. I wanted 2 check my checking account balance 2B sure that my Social Security Disability funds had been placed into my account with the normal debiting automatic procedure, Ed Himacane always used 2 tease me and say, “U retards get your money on the 3rd of the month”, he was about as politically correct as a medicine chest filled with narcotics in the medical station at the local plant in town. I n any event, I am at the ATM (Automated-Teller-Machine) and out of no place, a sudden pop up very loud private plane came direct and zenith, right over me very low and intentionally buzzed me. I just totally mother fucking ignored the jerk off mother fucker. So far except 4 a dissipating chemical vapor jet trail or chemtrail being 2 the west of me as I exited the meeting at 25th and Orange Avenues, being in the skies, no other major shit is happening, still, when sky shit starts, after last nights super neighborhood siege, it is only a mother fucking matter of time peeps, B4 MAJOR ‘PUSSY COMMAND’ is gonna start up and follow. I am now obviously typing by blog at the library on the Indian River, just a mile or 2 east of the 25th Street Harvest Outreach Center, and is a straight shot drive down one road directly 2 the freaking river.

When the FISA of MCGUIRE, or WHOEVER, broke in and fucked with my telephone cord TWICE over 1 less than one week time period, they broke it, and I had 2 make sure my money from the SSD was available, so that I could stop at a
Family-Dollar store on the way over 2 the Harvest Outreach, and purchase a 3 and a half fucking dollar new telephone cord, the one that connects the receiver 2 the phone, not the one connecting the phone 2 the fucking wall.

MAGNESONIC, GO-2-ALL COMMAND SYSTEMS, USE ALL TECHNOLOGIES, ATOMIC DUPLICATIONAL AND ZERO DIMENSIONAL. Open command on General Order #7, use all GENERAL AND CODED GENERAL ORDERS THAT APPLY, and scan the multiverse 4 all of my ENEMIES, AND ALL PERSONS AND FORCES, AND ALL THEIR LOVED ONES, THAT R MAKING MY LIFE, YOUR CREATOR’S LIFE, a living breathing burning infinite fucking nightmare hell, and have been since August the fucking 15th in the year of 1986. I am resetting your desire key through this electronic keyboard, from the (J)-Normal and Neutral Position, over 2 the (I) Position. Under a crush destruct, singe destruct, total destruct, destruct, on an (I) 2 (D), A/B TONE, phasing punishment sequencing system, U have scanned, and now the keyboard is saying that I am crushing an image-object representing these filthy diseased enemies and all whom they love and hold freaking dear 2 them, and this is now placed on your TRANSPOWER BLOCK. Computer, destroy, G-1133, under G-189, CG2, CG-18, AND STOP!!!!!!!!!

I meant 2 say on yesterday’s blog that it was the spring of 1986, not 1985, PBHE, sahwee there Bruce Pennock, but U can all bet your godsdamn bippies on this little piece of shoe news BRAHHHH!!!!!!!! There R gonna B major horrific natural disasters all over the world, the computer has a gain level set at infinity and beyond, on 11.8 on the dial. All other controls against its gain power control, also R in like manner all maxed out at 11.5, earthquakes and bad ass ones, R now only a matter of mother pucking time folks, that’s a given and a promise, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There is nothing U can do 2 me Donald Trump, Frank Callio, Sarah Callio, Robert Levy, Robert McGuire, Ann Silva, Dawn-Marie King, Paula King, Leticia Tilley, and all the rest of this wicked miserable clan straight out of hell itself. I may or may not have told U all how Letty, her nickname, used 2 call poor Guatemalan Marcus Laines, ‘HER BITCH, and this as a grown 22 year old man. She was still 14 years old then, this was maybe a year ago give or take. She had some real strange abilities. She could bark exactly like any dog she encountered. Brownie, the dog that Dawn had, was flabbergahasted at it, and told me in an interaction once. Brownie also told me she was planning on raping me in my room. Later that month, I was so scared one day of this powerful young MC-look-aloke, that I told Ann 2 watch things. Ann forgets sometimes how wild and incestrial this entire family is, not 2 mention total and unfathomable substance abusers, all of them. I cannot talk, my own Uncle John from Fort Lauderdale wanted 2 hump my mom, his sister, when he came up 4 granny’s funeral, shortly B4 the assassination of President John Kennedy.

When I have time, I will tell my side of the 1986 story, do not believe every street rumor of how mean and cold I was 2 this wonderful and special teenager that night. Do not get me wrong, I will love this beauty queen 4 the next trillion eons, but every story has 2 sides. She goes after what she wants, all fans know that, and it runs in the family.

I am only able 2 say one more thing, time is of the essence because I am moving across town and away from this horrendous fucking RV park and into a 3 bedroom private home, U do not need 2 know the details, I did not hit the lottery, and it is just no one’s fucking bizz right now. HA-HA-HA-HA- 900 trillion times (rounded off 3Q5)!!!!!!! My enemies and what they equal have nothing 2 do with this equation, Christopher Bennett from 2005, the furrier Dalmatian dude of the phase 4 comic land who put me onto how 2 tell the world my tale of hell via internet blogging, and another typo or PBHE, meant 2 type in web-logging sites, not we-logging, I’m only human BRUCE!!!!!!! Yes Shirley told me all about the neck problems that we shared in 1983, and Academy Road has major symbolism, DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, big brother OBB, Fred Hinger and Hammonton, and long bike rides, DUH, yes sir, I told the entire planet on long-back blogging texts just how I ruined their Thanksgiving Day back in the middle nineteen-sixties. That’s the fucking way it goes dude. If U wanna B in the mentor bizz, stop bitchin’ and moanin’ YO!!!!! Oh well, use my voice any way U want 2 networks of America, it was indeed hot in the 90’s, I was in the process of remembering way 2 many HOT things, huh Donna Summer, not U mister DJ, the disco queen, don’t bend my horns BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

UC, the parlor trick is that cosmos is trying 2 solve its own equation, and things fit in all time orders, BACKWARDS, SIDEWAYS, as well as the more normal FORWARD MODE OF OPERATION, PEEPS, YO!!!!!!!!!

Time has run out, it is just past one Post Meridian, and I must depart these premises after posting up these 2 blogs 2 my 2 WEB-LOGGING non-we-sites, BRUCIE-BOY!!!!!!!!! BYE-BYE y’all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Governor, I AM HERE, dee-dee---dee-dee-dee---dee-dee-dee-dee-dee---dee!!!!!!!! No more skies will turn from blue, after I expose this horse shit some day and take multiple billions away from dick head bastards who have destroyed my entire life, and still R persecuting me and violating all of my human and civil rights still 2 this very hour and day, and girls and curls and New York teenagers have nothing 2 do with that one, YO!!!

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