Mark I expect you to read this blog

Last lifetime you were Ludwig II of Bavaria. Good with buildings and showbiz and keeping up appearances and feeding a lot of male and female parasites in your Royal Court. This was you for real, look it up here http://www.neuschwanstein.com/english/castle/ludwig/ludwig_image_01.htm



Now,with your discussions in 2001 about sex with me behind my back you created a very hostile environment for me.
The sluts and the faggots you asked to dictate to you what to think about me, used to suck up to you back in Bavaria a hundred years ago. Same old, same old. Because I disconnected in 2001, I don't know if you had psychiatric treatment.

Honestly I don't know if you can hold record of your actions at all.

I treated you like my equal the first time around and casually. I saw with your girlfriends that you are not into equality, you are better off to buy a relationship or three on your own terms.
For me, if we are not equals you don't get any sex at all.
I am still fuming that various disgusting morons, tried to slag me off to win status at my expense and squeeze money and favours from you.
So, what's the score?
This builder Paul Jackson, who spent the night at my place throwing up and sleeping on a lampshade, can't he find another way to kiss your ass?
Do you hold any record how much money Simon the Dentist and the tall guy with the short ponytail have squeezed out of you, giving you advice that I'm a whore and you should exclude me? Why don't you ask those parasites for your money back?

Frankly, you seemed to be an attractive affair, but your reactions scared me off that I will not cope with your insanity.
I should have studied the last 76 trillion years of Satanic insanity we lived and have forgotten from 1984 to 2001, but I was doing more "normal" things and so when we met in 2001 I hadn't done my homework. From 2005 to now, at least I managed the basics of the last 100 million years.
You know what, I have an oath to repair you mentally back to a cause over life level, and that's in my estimate a twenty years work that requires auditing the time track, your past deaths and electronic incidents.
Hubbard is the Satan we are dealing with, normally I should have been the Leader of the Church of Scientology since 1986 the latest.
The only thing predictable about Hubbard the Satan is that he wants to be a challenge and he wants to do the maximum damage which is to kill all forever except the 144.000 sealed souls.

I am really annoyed with Panorama and Max Clifford not replying to me.
The fucking cunts of Britain want to sabotage my communication to hush hush what is the Antichrist agenda.
I find it annoying that your sluts and your walletfaggots are doing public relations that I would make a fortune if I was "nice" to you, when in fact they did £100.000 damage to my personal financial circumstances.
What I saw for myself about you is that you were too mean spirited to ask me down the pub because you were terrified you might entertain me and cheer me up.

From my viewpoint, Henley on Thames is the place of the Rising Cunt. A 2000 population with unanimous agreement to destroy good sex and enforce criminal sex and criminality about sex.

To me, sex was no big deal and I couldn't wait to get rid of the morons who suck your fart for your money.
You tried to vilify me Mark, and enforce social penalties and social exclusion for being good in bed and that's why I wrote you off immediately. I binned you without the slightest sense of loss.
Actually if I had the chance to live throught this ordeal all over again, I wouldn't just send you a good riddance polite note, I would have taken some paint and write on your front door and on the doorstep of "Percy Cottage" : You moron! You Idiot!
Why do you collect malicious morons for friends Mark? You can't live without flattery?
You and your buddies have enormous quantities of viciousness in common, that's why you and them spend sooo much time together daily.
It seems I don't possess sufficient malice and viciousness for you to spend an hour with me down the Pub.
Honestly what possessed you to slag me off to the frenzied goldiggers, the cackling harridans and the venomous sluts of Henley?
Were you thick or what?
Anyway happy birthday.