SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0374
WORLD LABS DATFILE: 032412.657-NOT BLUES
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“THE ONLY THING THAT PROVES EVERYTHING,
IS THE LIFE OF MARK WAYNE MOHR”
© 2006-2012 MWM/MWM/MF-2/BOM
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-95
STARTING SMOKE MIRROR PARLOR TRICK GODSGAME:
Yes ladies and gentlemen, young and old alike, there are a few real powerful things that if you can ignore, you would indeed be the one who would also deny your own cancer symptoms until you are nearly dead and beyond any helpful treatments. I can do nothing whatsoever for you on matters such as these, this is your own business.
All day CHEMTRAILING has produced a jet-hazed-over sky in the area, and also woke me up with extremely agonizing stomach cramping at just past 8 this morning, seems to be a reenactment of last Saturday, as my dreaming-interactions were major after this point as well, just as last week. I put a direct contact link in the blog at the blogger site www.blogger.com/ so that you can access the song I wrote last early autumn in OH-MAROLA-ELEVEN, called, “CHEMTRAILS OF 1987”. Enjoy folks.
Every time I turn on my system over here, even though it is quiet and makes no noise whatsoever, it seems to automatically activate some kind of electronic noise next door, be it music or a television or as the Congressman and my 1975 buddy put it so well and perhaps even started the saying, “WHATEVER”, whereas in contrast, I know my kid did not invent, “I don't know”, in fact she rarely says it. We will touch this and other stuff, since obviously this is the desire of a powerful force from somewhere in distant hyperspace, as per my 'dreams' last night, YO. B4 we do go here folks, let me say that recently, the ass hole nabes from across the hall are acting up again, with lots and lots of recent bing-bang-booming, yelling in the hallways, and etcetera. They as well as next door seem to, if averaged out, be on a quieter roll from Sundays through Wednesdays, and get noisier on a noticeable scale on the smaller half weekly swing days of Thursday through Saturday. this has been since after the end of summer time last year, and when the old across the hall nabe switched apartments. I of course cannot do this and was told this, but other peeps, hay, there are not under the same rules of the 'CHOSEN TO BE CURSED HUNTINGTON', also known as (AKA) me. First of all folks, I am lucky in a way that no one ever tries to experiment with stuff I have posted openly about, to retaliate for what this WOMO enemy of mine has done to totally wipe out and wreck and annihilate my entire life as the current time me, tangibly and physically, the caporial natural lifetime of MWM in other words. They cannot wipe out who I really am or even touch it, but they can make my human life total misery womb to fucking tomb, and in fact, they do exactly that. I have talked about stuff such as how my parents met during a covert top secret black ops court case in Philadelphia while my pop was serving as a US Naval Officer and Lieutenant Commander, but never gave out the full details of his 1974 Comet Kahoutek visit to Oaklyn, New Jersey, and the several nights in my apartment maintenance men games expert Russell Thaxton chain and magic box bedroom of asterisk next day chemtrails, and how he talked in his sleep a few times, and what he said that blew me from there to Galaxy Jasontrees Quna Permissionbarrierville. I have discussed a part of using the Patricia Hollister Fascitar to take a trip to the great Catholic Purgatory, or the world of the Quantum Subatomic; explaining how to do it in greater efforts than even the mighty Monroe, and I have dipped a bit into the subject of dream-travel clubs and the Exploratron, even the ES or the official dream club's name of, Exploratronic Supermind. What my dad said in his sleep cannot make him a disloyal serviceman, and would heighten and peak the interests of all fans of getting to the real total truths of the BERMUDA TRIANGLE and the PHILADELPHIA EXPERIMENT. I will say that Robert McGuire was very nervous when he saw military craft passing over us that day we were speaking on Tennessee Avenue in 1997, and I was telling him that he had a very fascinating last name, and asked him if he was related to any of the folks who were behind this Mercer County, New Jersey, Air Force Base, and B4 either of us could say boo, out of the total blue came a scrambled group of McGuire fighter jets, so where were you butt wipes on September Angela Two Dollars eleven, YO???????????????? It's like the police, when you did not quite stop at the stop sign, when you threw out some chewing gum wrappers, or WHATEVER, hay, I DON'T KNOW, but I do know this, the watched pots do seem to take longer to boil, picking up coins tails up do tend to make days worse, and the list goes on. What some call superstitious nonsense, in all likelihood has a major real life logical technology behind it, it must, because it is quite real, it is not imagined, it can be graphed and charted as a non-delusion, put simply, it ISREAL and IT WORKS, for the JEWS and for the GENTILES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HAY, I've learned to make jokes and laugh, MI, but is this all I've learned from the great Scylla Goddess, I-AM????????????? When you need a Police Person however, as you are getting mugged or beaten up, usually life just fixes it that they are indeed on a pastry break, hay no diss here, we all deserve our working breaks and our food to keep the strength up, I am a working man and am not bullshitting about this one tiny little freaking bit. In other words, life is life, as my mom would say, “This is Earth, not Heaven”, and so forth. I am not complaining and belly aching, just telling it the way that it is. I remember one day a long time ago making a right turn on a red traffic signal from a total legal stop, but there was a cleverly half hidden hard to catch sign unless you lived in that exact area and knew it was there, and this sign read, NO TURN ON RED. I did not see it, I turned, and who was right there parked and waiting, you got it. But, as my wonderful daughter would ask perhaps, do you “GET IT”? Driving on parkways and parking on driveways is irony enoughm, but if anyone ever would go and archive the 2006 and 2007 blogs in the pre-Einstein days of the BOM (Blogs-Of-Mountainpen) that talk a lot about this irony, you'll see the further irony, or WHATEVER it really was, where something kept messing with my ability to describe that very irony. It kept coming out on the blog, driving on highways or riding on parkways, I forget now, it is all up there, but it never came out right, even that day in Ann King's apartment at Judge Frank Raso's Rooming-house on Central Avenue in Hammonton, New Jersey, even Ed wondered a little bit, then scratched it off as me being the dumb eyed library doc, nothing gets past me, nothing. Well in whatever parallel-universe I was interacting in a few hours back, Ed is serving a life sentence in prison for something, I do not know the details, but could not imagine what he could have done. In know what I am going to do if this fucking hacking and this fucking computer keeps misbehaving however; somebody is going to be fucking murdered. That much I will say, and without being shy about it. Let me try and reconstruct a lost two or three sentences now. I was talking about the mechanics of hyperspace, and had finished up Ed's life sentence in one particular universe, and was trying to draw some powerful examples. I said something about elaborating on the details of this unknown to present times science, that to the greatest minds of today, exist only on their blackboards, because they do not accept the proven reality that real life is 5th dimensional, and so they have no real live test subjects such as me. They have no mother fucking CLUE what they are missing out on here, so stay 100 years back or at least 50 folks, when you need not remain in darkness. Again, YPC, (YOUR-PERSONAL-CHOICE), YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As for the other potential implications for combining and grouping those three letters together out of a 26 letter English alphabet, well, I DON'T KNOW, but that old Driveway/Parkway Irony Syndrome rears it head over and over, at least for me my peeps. If you want to live, as PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP put it in my car a long time back now, “on the surface of life”, fine, you may not feel as much unpleasantness as I do, but on the opposite side of the magical coin, tempers and tippers of other quite strange parallel-universes, all notwithstanding here folks; you will never live in the POWER when things go bang and your skin literally lifts up off of you far beyond Donna and her White-Boy Goose-Bumps from 1968, and morning dead protein shows of antimatter worlds, wow, so Y-NOT indeed, Mister Haddonwood Health Club Owner, gee willagars, my skin is all ready beyond the GB level, lovely Donna!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But getting back to reducing my Ativan dosage from four milligrams daily, slowly down to a totally clean break off; this mind bending and incredible conversation that I had before my original trip down here to Florida, to visit my Chief RPL Recording Engineer, Howard Solomon, who had recently moved to a home in Orlando, is all totally a part of things that involve this wild and inconceivable unfathomable fifth dimension. Yes, Howard with the THREE O's in his last name, remind you of anybody else, MI? You just have to get this way cool book lovely girl, by James Redfield, called “THE CELESTINE VISION”. Then you will understand why I am forced to bing things like this to your attention, BEG. Howard is a story every bit as big, well, without wanting to brag, nearly as big, as all of Morianity. To say, AS BIG, just simply put would be a lie, and I don't want to lie, but let us finish up the topic at hand so we can get to the only lie I ever told on this MORIANITY BLOGGING PROJECT of six plus years now, and folks, guess what, IT WAS NOT A LIE, IT WAS AS ALL TGHINGS, A COMPLEX TRUTH, and I could even say this under oath in a court of law, and unless the prosecutor really had it out for me, I do not think I could be charged with Perjury. Anybody getting wet yet? Oh well, it is nice to be fully alive, I cannot resurrect your dead souls folks, but if you are getting a thrill off right about now, you ARE alive, otherwise, you are GOING THROUGH THE LIFE MOTIONS, peeps, sorry, more truth,m and yes, PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP, truth can hurt, I am genuinely sorry if and when I am offending anyone, as this is most definitely and most certain,ly not ever mty intention to do, I have enough freaking enemies, common sense should tell any of you that I would certainly not wish to go and make a slew more of them every time I sit here and freaking type a blog. Think that one over folks. Time will not allow me to do what I wanted today. I have points to make and finish up on this blog, so no extra time will be there for me to do a 20 plus page blog and include a word for word verbatim conversation that was edited and picked out just for fun, to go on my 'CHEMTRAILS OF 1987' song. But I will touch on the fact, that I was talking about reducing my ingestion of medication that if I do not take, I will choke to death, and this is considered by the medical field right up to present times, nearly 30 years after its on sought with me in early June of 1983, as an Idiopathic Medical Condition, or IMC. Many doctors will admit, and some will not, that legitimate IMC conditions exist, and are not psychological disturbances of the patient. Just because THEY are too stupid to know what is happening to your body, you are still indeed really suffering a real condition, not a mentally imagined one. This is where the word of Idiopathic is derived from, from the doctors and the medical community being such idiots that they cannot find the problem, but they know a problem is in fact there. This is the entire topic of the conversation that only two short sentences are exchanged on in the edited mix for the song. Go ahead and click on it, I will never ever dare post the entire thing up, but yes, out of hundreds of cassettes UI lost, really thousands when my life journal is included, only about three dozen managed to find their way down here with me in December of 2009, to Florida when I made good my escape from the great KING THAT FAMILY of 1970. Go ahead folks, if you are on a modern computer with an up to date word processor spell checker that recognizes the name of our great man in the Julia House of Washington, type in the word idiopathic, it will not be flagged as a made up Poor Richard new life addition word, I promise you that, MO and WOMO, please no more stairs, that experience on October 5th of 2008 was too much for me to bear, and especially when learning that was it a 'dream' in 2008, or a recalled lost memory of 1972? Now all of a sudden, I have a three month old appointment with my doctor, Doctor Jay I. Schorr of Fort Pierce, Florida, who I've now been a patient of since the summer time of 2010, nearly two years, and there was no cancellation courtesy call, only instead, I drive over there on my scheduled time to see him, and I get told he has bad knees, and that the doctors who are in practice with him, want me to shortly “reduce my dosage” of my necessary medication, that I have faithfully taken since July of mother fucking 1983, prescribed by Doctor Frank Addiego of Westmont, New Jersey, my childhood doctor. He literally saved my mother fucking life, I thought I was a goner, I was slowly asphyxiating, at age 28 years. I even a wrote a song and sent it the United fucking States Copyright Office, Mister President, and all of the great staff of Washington, District of Columbia, the final words of the song go like this, it is all down there for the record since you ALL SEEM HELLBENT TO MURDER ME AND GET RID OF ME, “It's taking me away, it's taking me away, no matter how I fight to stay with you. It's taki9ng me away, no matter how I pray, please help me find a way to stay with you. I love you Baby-Love, I need you Baby-Love, I'll never let go Baby-Love”. Now it is obvious to me, that Diana heard my plea, and saved my life; in ways that only this great mighty ELECTRON can do. This song SHOULD BE IN THE US LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ON CASSETTE TAPE FROM SOMEWHERE IN THE YEAR OF 1983, when I was murdered, yes MURDERED, by some powerful poison attack, obviously a black-ops covert night series of death CHEMTRAILS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So when I posted up a conversation about all of this, how does this involve a fifth-dimensional electronic disturbance, as I have all ready shown and claimed that it has done? Well, this is where the story grows complex as all get out, and will be told when I type the entire conversation between this magical lab-technician and me in late 1983 before the trip to Florida, the FIRST TRIP, to visit engineer Howard, in Orlando. Right now I need to tell a little bit about last night in my hyperspace activities, you would say my dreams, and also, how the great SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE of SDK on the AP, revealed to me just what really happened that night on the 12th of July around 10:30, at the Atlantic City Bus Terminal, and on the local bus, through Plesantville and eventually my place, on Oakland Avenue, in Oaklyn, huh Russel Book-Burning Thaxton?
The experience began with SSJKK telling me many things, reminding me of how the night before, I also was at Monolazarium Square, and was being shown a lot of mail-sized burlap bags, literally filled to the freaking brim with photographs, all of beautiful female humans between the ages of say twelve and twenty-five years in age. I was told some wild things about this, totally unbloggable things. Then the word “Harrah” not as in the Atlantic City casino, but as in the shouting cheer of hip-hip, etcetera, was all a part of this somehow. Then I was taken over to a machine on Planet Earth that was a close in parallel to my Earth and my life here, and I was told to go over and to grab something resembling a flatter and a tad bit longer, than a normal looking computer-mouse. It was attached to a computer like box on a radio frequency, and it had a small protruding antenna about two inches long, as did the computer box. 5555555555555555555555555555555, this compensates for my being on word document page number eleven, and of course, I happen to glance at four ones as a freaking ass result, lucky lucky wehtahd me, huh???????555555555555555555555555555. I just was forced to look down at it again, what a fucking ass bummer, huh Jason WFMU Rimes? Moving on now with things, I can get back to many parts of this wild experience, but I must skip the order of this 'dream' as in truth there is no order to anything as time is pure linear illusion, but none of you can see this truth of course, so LSS, I was told to grab this 'mousy' thing, and I instantly felt 'something' literally probing MY MIND. I was in direct contact with this machine. I thought to myself quite accidentally, I suppose, that I wish I was wearing a really nice suit so that Sarah-Stacey would not see me in these ugly looking prison type stretchy gray colored pajamas, don't get excited Senator Thompson Lao. Aniwho, I thought this thought at the precise microsecond that suddenly I was now wearing this ten thousand dollar suit, with a gorgeous tie, my shoes were on and they were brilliantly cleaned and polished, the material of my suit-coat and my pants was surreal and would have been totally proper to entertain anyone from Queen Elizabeth to my daughter. Well, the joke is on everybody on this planet here, because, I cannot speak for the English Queen, but I was with my daughter. Now moving this along, I was right here in this very same room here in this PHA Building, and the only thing different was that the walls had a lovely wallpaper and a few paintings were hanging up, two on three of the walls, totaling six paintings in all. I became super lucid about the experience at this point but kept my mouth shut and my brain in check, as much as I could, while holding this mousy object. Then I saw that SSJKK was sitting in a chair next to me with the very same colored dress that resembles HER kite that I bought HER on HER 16th birthday, it is a very gigantic kite, and only SHE is strong enough to lift it and fly it without getting literally blown into the skies. It was many rectangle and dot shapes of numerous shades of bright white and off white as well as numerous shades of the color blue. HER kite is also blue and white, in Sahasra Dal Kanwal. I began to think of HER lovely kite, and there it was behind me, this machine instantly duplicated MY MIND. I began to think of my younger daughter PEE, and of course, poof, there she was, as if she had been there all along, sitting on a chair on the other side of me, the right side. We all had a wonderful talk, and I took my hand off of the mouse-object so nothing else could pop in or out of 'reality', 'whatever' the heck that is, Congressman Andrews. I asked PEE what the Comocosi thing was all about that I heard her and her boyfriend discussing that day in her college dorm in a parallel universe up around 2015 give or take a year. This for those who may remember was when my mom was still around and quite a bit younger in that parallel reality, and had been saying incredibly mean things to me, and finally ?i responded by saying that I wish that she and my dad had never had sex one particular time, in other words, that she had never brought me into this horrible life, and she then went onto burst into tears. Unfortunately, PEE went onto tell me details that cannot be blogged. It would cross huge lines, and if near enough to this atomic universe and its realities based on carbon life form and their continual personal choices since they first appeared on the Planet Earth, were to mirror image things too much, I could be in big trouble.
I could say a lot more but let me move things onto where I was out swimming in a river and somebody hollered from the shoreline that they had my mouse and box. I could see like 20-2 or some incredible Eagle eye vision, and I knew that indeed, they did have it. It was a group of young punky thug types, and one yelled again, “Watch this you fucking jerk off”, and I knew I was going to get, as we said a lot in the nineteen-sixties, 'a major happening', and I did. This boy about twelve years old with two lovely chicks about twenty or so, hanging on both of his arms, yelled out to me; “Enjoy your swim, you dirt ball mother fucker”. Instantly, the river current increased and increased, and I knew it literally was moving about fifty or more miles per hour. I put my arms out in front of me and began thinking about moving forward, and instead of this working as it does in waking life, all that happened is that the current altered and took me out further from the shore line. I could barely see the gang of young punks and thugs as they started to become as dots on a very distant shore of grasses and small pebbles with a treeline behind it about 50 yards or so. Eventually, I drifted to an area where a busy two lane road was curving around right to the river edge, and the current had brought me close in again, and somehow, I miraculously saved myself and found myself on this road being honked at by many speeding reckless nasty ass drivers. Then I made my way to a telephone that was hanging on a wall in a small park, a block away, and I called for an operator. She answered and said, “Hello Mark Wayne Mohr, this is your dreaming hyperspace operator”. I thought I'd fucking shit in my cunt eating hat at this point, folks. I asked her what she knew about me and she began reminding me of the “DREAMS” from last night, and even though I knew I was 'DREAMING”, I had an awake world recall of everything, it was vivid and it was lucid, and every single thing this operator said was true, reminding me of how I had been talking to SSJKK and SHE told me that SHE was on the bus that 12th night in July in 1970, and as SARAH KARGE, projecting HER Astral Body as SHE always did for me, to appear as a teenager that always seemed to match the age that I was during the middle and late nineteen-sixties. She reminded me that indeed it was HER, that said to the rest of the girl gang, “There's THAT-BOY”. She always has called me THAT-BOY, all throughout infinity. I will tell a lot more about this HYPERSPACE OPERATOR, the 6th dimension or THOUGHT AND MIND REALM, the 7th DIMENSIONAL CIRCUITRY of the entire system, and the void itself, in many following blogs, and I ,will remind readers how exactly to use the great PATRICIA HOLLISTER FASCITAR as well as how to become an ADVANCED TYPE 2 AND 3 EXPLORATRON, in case you ever are invited or want to be invited into this powerful dreaming club. Unfortunately I love to write and tell the stories that happen to me, and dissect them like a super sleuth as indeed they all mean something in some huge cosmic package, I KNOW THIS, and the next few blogs will be powerful, since these diseased WOMO enemies are trying to kill me and cut off my needed medication, as without it I will leave here, and never ever return. You will all be endlessly lost without me to guide you and tell you what I know, yes your great god knows this is true, wait until I give you the REAL/E CONVERSATION, not one all; chemtrailed over and edit faked!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!But I will tell you how this powerful dream terminated. SSJKK told me that I needed some punitation for writing some things on the blog dated the 12th of March. Sorry!!!!
ENDING SMOKE MIRROR PARLOR TRICK GODS GAME:
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