SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 135
SUPPLEMENTAL:
START OF TRANSMISSION, YO:
This was a super BOTBAR fucking day for me, at the hands of the fucking unrelenting WOMO ENEMIES of mine, AKA the MILITUFORCE OTAMMITES.
It started when I left the house for fucking work and saw the many evil fucking chemtrails in the fucking ass sky. One hour later, they totally destroyed my watch. This is the 3rd fucking watch from the K-Mart store on Route One in Fort Pierce, Florida at the Virginia Avenue intersuction/sicktion/section. It was around a quarter before fucking eleven when I knew I had been there on the job close to two hours, yet the watch said only ten fucking AM. This is when it was hit and fucking broken by this diseased fucking MILLIONTH-COUNCIL WOMO filth. Last night, somebody around the final hours and time of the day, wiped out my television fucking remote control unit. IT IS OBVIOUS TO A FUCKING DISEASED ASS RETARD, THAT THE PHILADELPHIA FLYERS HICKEY GARBAGE TEAM, IS PLAYING TONIGHT, AND THEY WILL FUCKING CREAM THEIR OPPONENTS, AND THIS TIME PEEPS I TOTALLY FUCKING PROMISE ALL OF YOU THAT THEY WILL MOVE ONTO EVENTUALLY WIN THE 2011 SEASON STANLEY CUP CHAMPIONSHIP. WHY DO I CARE SO MUCH ABOUT THIS, SOME SAY, AND SOME ALL READY KNOW? WELL, LET US DISCUSS THIS SICK FUCKING SHIT FOLKS, OK? Let's really mother fucking get into the entire messy fucking shit that has been plaguing and dogging fucking me now for a fucking solid ass cock sucking twenty-five years now, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you notice I am very angry and quite upset and cursing like an insane fucking madman, you are not imagining one mother fucking thing, YO. If any one of you out here in internet-land was going through my fucking twisted Route-9-nightmare for a solid quarter century of time, you would have murdered by now, or be locked up in jail or a nut house, or tucked away in a cemetery or have your fucking ashes in an urn. I am doing better than any one of you, so salute me and quit judging me, as I should by all fucking rights, have perished and vanished a very long ass ling ass time ago. The book of Biblical Job, and my book from 1994 called TPB; sure comes into my mind right about now, OYR. “Do this, and do that, and blah and bleee and blum, but always, “spare his life”. Keep my doggie alive, YO. Sarah-Stacey, you have an incredible sense of humor, and one hell of a love for games. But then I know a lot more about this ALL MIGHTY GODDESS than any of you humans out here do. I had more than one run in with this powerful beautiful goddess, right here in my MOUNTAINPEN-LIFETIME or sequence of dreams IN THE 5TH DIMENSIONAL HYPERSPACE. Hang in there A&R Callio, and WAYV-FM, and Hammonton, and HSM, and on and on, but do it in Braintree fucking Massachusetts, and allow if you will, my cousin Arthur Huntington to use his own personal rope and basement, that I'm quite sure that he'd be willing and perhaps even so anxious to provide, YO!
Sarah Jacobson, Steve the school jock who was very muscular and tall and athletic, Jerry Heitzmann, Misses Estelle Andersen Bassler, Miss Nurockey, Herby Hunts' great grand pop's 3rd uncle, Sam Huntington, his best pal, Bennie Franklin, and on and on, this story has no starting point, Alice Gallagher, Haddon Township High School, World Labs, my Social Security Disability, my many time road trips with the great Ninny McKannon who is so famous for his rap music and culture some decades ago and still to this freaking day, and literally a thousand fucking wild shit eating things all come together and fit like a totally smooth ass tight but comfy glove, and when I tell the entire thing, this planet will go off of its fucking nut forever. But mop matter how much of my fucking personal property and other shit that they break, Bob McDowell of the Federal Communications Millionth-Council Commission, known more secretly to a discreet few as the FCMCC, THEY WILL NOT GET ME TO TELL ABOUT THE FIRST HALF OF THE SEVENTIES, ONLY THAT THE FLYERS are totally connected with things, as is the entire Hans Worshing Club of Holland, and nobody is gonna get more out of me, as UI love my SCYLLA, and fuck all of you. I will willingly die by s,low torture before I will ever betray some of HER greatest secrets. What any of you think you may know about her, her own family, the Pope, you don't freaking know JACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I will tell this one thing. My blogs tell about how the famous Watergate Day connects with me and my high school and Mister Jockamini the Guidance counselor, and then later on at the Haddonfield special-ass-ed-school. Do any of you think that a ten yerar old boy who wrote a storty in a school class room back in 1965, should hacve been locked away and nearly killed in a state mental institution. If this is not an unfair punishment then there never was one, and I know exactly why it was imposed on me, and a million other things also, but this all stays my secret, tape recorders, near drownings, and disappearing betray to death schoolmates as well. I have seen, I know, and nothing is gonna make me tell the entire story or the entire secret, NOT ONE BLOODY SHOE THING, MISS KATE SONGTHIEF WILLIS!!!!!!! YOU CAN ALL FUCKING KISS MY GODSDAMN ASS, HOW'S THAT FOR PURE REALISM AND TOTAL ASS HONESTY, BRAHHHH!!!!!!! Take that one straight to the Mullica time trip Commerce Bank Florida Snow Auto Loan Takeovers Club of the 'Camping-End-of- the-World' year, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is also known as the 'oh-Marola-eleven' or the 'PITSY-4-year' peeps, BYE-BYE!!!
END TRANSMISSION:
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment