SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0442
KING
GARBAGE NOTHING PROPHET-88
WORLD
FLAB ORATORIES OF 2297
SEND-BACK-TEXT
DATE AND TIME FILE (DATFILE):
CH-0442-053012.538.555555555555555555555
EARLY
WEDNESDAY AFERNOON
NO
AQUARIUMS, NO AQUARIUS RECORD LAYER LABELS
NO
HUNTRESSES, NO RINGTONES, HANG IN THERE MAN
NO
ADVANCED ROBOTIC CLASSES OR 880 NUMBERS
©
2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT
CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“RINGTONE
HUNTINGTON FAMILY, REGARDING POP UPS AND SEND BACKS”
THIS
IS ALL A SWORN OATH OF TRUTH, VOLUNTARILY TAKEN BY THIS BLOGGER,
MWM/MWM/BOM/MF-2. THIS IS TOTAL ABSOLUTE ACCURATE TRUTH WITH NO
ADDITIONS OR OMISSIONS WHATSOEVER, SO HELP ME GODDESS SARAH-STACEY
JEHOVAH KRASSLE, AND FLAG AND COUNTRY, SWORN THIS DAY UNDER FULL
PENALTY OF LIBEL AND OR PERJURY CHARGES SHOULD I BE EVER PROVED LYING
ABOUT ANY OF THESE WORDS.
BEGINNING OF
THIS TRANSMISSION:
I
am not going to beat around the bushes today or worry about any
bruised feelings. This will not be a big long tell all blog, or a
tweet. But I am going to say some things now. They need to be said
now and later on, we will see what needs to be said, then. Let's
proceed, we can make man in our image, later or, or recognizing being
darker than some other folks might be, as well, 43 years ago.
RINGTONE
is a relatively new word folks, even technology hater Mountainpen
knows what it is. But I also know that if you remove the first letter
of “R” as well as the last letter of “E” in this word,
“RINGTONE”, we then are left with the remainder of INGTON. We
need not hunt too long or hard to find the few words that spring
right into mind that if placed in front of this INGTON, would make
recognizable and legitimate words. Two are of course Wash—ington,
and Hunt---ington. The program in the WORD OFFICE system that is
downloaded into this computer, for reasons that only IT knows,
decided to make one of the two triple line hyphens into a straight
and non-broken line, only one, not both. Now this may post up
differently, one can never be sure of that, because blogging sites
all have their own software systems that do other things to a posted
blog. Still, I have not forgotten the two times where RINGTONES were
part of situations with me here in my local area of fort Pierce,
Florida, the first being the strange pop-up lady at my job at the
25th and Orange Streets Harvest Outreach Center, shortly
after I posted to my YOUTUBE CHANNEL, the song, “NINA”, a song
that has a lot of powerful meaning regarding what cave persons call
time travel. Suddenly, here is this lady nearby me, and her cellphone
is ringing, and the 'ring-tone' was my song recently posted. I had
just seen on an internet page a few days before the incident and a
few days after the song had been posted up, an offer to but a NINA
RINGTONE. Still, this was a real POP-UP situation, if ever there was
one. Dave Roth and myself were involved in numerous situations of
similarity. We interacted with way more than our share of PU and SB
peeps from the WL. We talked about this over a tapped up landline
telephone, and shortly thereafter, the music cable channel called VH1
began using the concept of the POP-UP.
Monday
night, the dirt ball across the hall got back after being away a few
days, and things are continually noisy over there ever since, day and
night. I know that a lot of illegal activity goes on there as well,
Fort Pierce, Police. If they hear me make one tiny sound, they slam
and bang. They are persecuting me to my death, and this is why I must
move out of here before this twisted filthy disease murders me
covertly.
Thanks to these
fucking jerk off neighbors, my roulette system totally crashed and
burned. I intentionally played when they persecuted as well as after
the computer was hacked, which recently, IS ON A REAL ROLL AGAIN, BOB
MCDOWELL, CHAIRMAN OF THE FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION. I try to
post up to two blogging sites, and they both are messing with me, or
else, someone is, whenever I try to post a blog up to either of them,
blogger, or wordpress. This is a major violation of my human rights,
my civil rights, and most powerfully; my constitutional rights, as
the first mother fucking amendment to the United States constitution
is protecting my right to free speech unless my words are
intentionally inciting violence, and I've checked around, and my
stuff is quite tame next to some of the stuff up on the internet that
really does practically incite violence.
One
thing that is perfectly Nixon-Clear to me folks, is that one thing is
behind this, and always has been, and that is this everlasting and
unrelenting evil trilogy problem that this SICK EVIL WOMO-MILITUFORCE
enemy of mine, insists on injuring and harming me with ever since the
middle nineteen-eighties. I speak of course of the ICPE, or the
INTENTIONALLY CREATED PARALLEL EVENT, a technology of Hitler Scale
Horror (HSH) used on me and who knows just how many other folks as
well that may be dead or locked away forever insane by now; and
breaking this down again and in reiteration to its basic component
parts, this includes myself along with the other three items that
have a powerful non stoppable parallel with me in one way or the
other, good and bad, and these three items being: PHILADELPHIA
PHILLIES BASEBALL CLUB****************
PHILADELPHIA
FLYERS HOCKEY CLUB*******************
NEW
YORK STOCK MARKET DOW JONES INDUSTRIALS****
WHEN
THE DOW JONES IS UP AND THE FLYERS WIN, MY LIFE IS IN THE CESSPOOL
CEMETARY OF HELLFIRE.
WHEN
THE PHILLIES LOSE, MY LIFE IS IN THE CESSPOOL CEMETARY OF HELLFIRE.
WHEN
THE PHILLIES WIN, THE FLYERS LOSE, AND THE DOW JONES IS DOWN, MY LIFE
SPRINGS BACK AND GETS BETTER.
John
Bippie-Better Henningsen can only say it with the real perfect
accents and fervor required to make it come to life, but I will echo
his 1969 sentiments again on this blog. “It's just that
simple”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
we need to understand some things about the year of 1986, when I was
playing professional roulette in the new Jersey casinos from early in
March through late in October, basically a time stretch of eight
months. I made a net profit playing this casino game that year, of
nine thousand-two-hundred dollars. I would have made double this
amount, but shortly after I began my excursions down to Atlantic
City, the US Military covert operations in league with the BFA (Black
File Agency), a group consisting of CIA, NSA, and many totally
unknown and even more dirty and secret pigs and slobs who will wreck
anyone's life on a whim in the next five minutes, just because they
know that they can do it. Every time I would drive back and forth to
play, they would fly deafening scarey military aircraft's directly
over my car, totally perfectly zenith to the position of my car as I
drove down the White Horse Pike, both coming and going. Soon, I began
finding it more and more difficult to win, despite having the best
system in the galaxy, APE, (Applied Parallel event). But you see, the
government enemies or the MILITUFORCE, who had a vested national
interest in my not being ever to break out of my financial
difficulties or this HUNTINGTON CURSE if you will; began using their
own brand of APPLIED PARALLEL EVENT. The major arieal persecution
began to work against my being able to have positive agreement with
random chance selections, no matter what, you might say they
intentionally STOLE AWAY FROM ME, ANY POSSIBLE GOOD OR POSITIVE
“LUCK”. Luck is very real, it is a magnetic force, it is totally
misunderstood, and I plan to change all this by getting every
university on the planet aware soon, of this horror show I've been
forced to fucking endure for 26 long cunt lapping years now at the
hands of monstrous scoundrels and raw swine chewing maggots.
Now we will work
our way back onto points needed to be made from not only this blog,
but a few past ones as well. First, this HUNTINGTON CURSE began
thousands of years ago, it is a real family curse, but still, it is a
game, played by very bored endlessly existing Olympian Gods from the
Astral plane. The great Eckankar in their mighty wisdom things that
one can move beyond all of this, and I leave them to their wonderful
and nice pleasant cozy dreamy delusions.
What
I have told and blogged makes me an insane man by the standards of
all of the modern sciences of psychiatry. I can do nothing whatsoever
about this, it is their world, their labels, their choices. I know
that I have died over and over again, maybe four dozen times now
since the starting of the eighties, and whatever death is supposed to
really be in this big dream of mortal world existence, it merely has
been removed from my personal universe. If you were to wake up
tomorrow, and every time you said the word CHAIR, people looked at
you strangely, and you began noticing that chairs no longer exited
anywhere, this would be sort of a major experience for you to deal
with, but far less than learning that suddenly you get into head on
collisions on the road, drown, get shot in a convenience store, get
electrocuted, get poisoned, jump in front of a train, and the list
goes on; and yet, you instantly either find yourself awake and that
was all just an event that happened in what now seems like a powerful
vivid and lucid dream, or in some cases, an instantaneous change is
surroundings and people and even weather is suddenly just there, and
so are you, and whatever happened, just didn't happen. This is a from
of someone somewhere manipulating time, all cousins to today's
science fiction time travel stuff. On the second day of February in
1948, a distant cousin named Arthur Huntington from Braintree,
Massachusetts, USAESMWG, was outside of his home shoveling snow from
a recent blizzard storm, and singing and whistling happy tunes, or so
said his neighbors who had heard him do this. That night however,
after midnight, he took an ax and he chopped up his wife in the bed
next to him, and then went into an adjacent room, the room of his
wife Alice Gallagher Huntington's mother, and did the very same thing
to her. Without a lot of delay or hesitation, he then proceeded to go
down into his basement, create a noose, and hung himself to death.
Nobody knows why, Google has totally sanitized the story, but they
know it happened. They also know that a child was born on December
the 4th in 1954 at exactly half past nine in the morning,
at the Bryn Mawr Hospital, a suburban area of Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania, USAESMWG, one Mark Wayne Mohr, also known as (AKA) ME
or MOUNTAINPEN. The family curse was officially transmitted directly
into me, through a lottery process that exists deep in the secret
worlds of the subatomic cellular reality of hyperspace waking
existence, the world of humankind DNA. I was the next all ready
CHOSEN HUNTINGTON. Shortly after the time that I was a todler, most
of my family down to the grandparent level on my mother's side of the
family which was where HUNTINGTON came from, my grandmother Grace
Isabelle Huntington was the 5th granddaughter of founding
father and once Governor of Connecticut until his death in 1790,
Samuel Huntington, where we all derive the name representative of our
great united States Government, “UNCLE SAM”, only he really was
my great uncle, times a few numbers. How great, who knows, but great
in the genealogical sense. His Grandson, whose name might have been
Kenneth, married into a family that had five children. One of the
male children settled in the area of the Long Island Hampton's. After
about ten years, he made a fortune and bought up a quarter of the
entire Suffolk County. Today, this area is still Huntington, New
York. There is no curse on this area, I am the one who holds the
curse, and will until whoever is next in line with just the right
DNA, to take it from me as I pass this torch through my [physical
death, onto them, like an Olympian runner athlete in a great race for
glory. Unfortunately, this is a glorious race to keep humankind from
suffering in a condition called DOGTOWN, once thoroughly discussed in
my now defunct website, called Morianity-Foundation.
There
is no way out of this. This is a cup that I have wished I could
avoid, along with poison cakes, Incollingo transdimensional cupcakes,
and many other negative rotten things as well. If one person could
show me a way out of eternal hell, I would show them secrets that
would make GODS out of them, and they could literally take over this
planet and do whatever they want to do with it. I did not ask to be
chosen to inherit this HUNTINGTON problem, I was picked, and not by
Ike Patton Bloodnguts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, this Huntington
Curse, is the only possible explanation for how I can post up such
things on blog websites and music sites, and end up with a handful of
views, while some skate board rider gets millions, and so on. I can
prove Einstein wrong on many things, and have actually done so, and
it goes right over the heads of everybody, but I am banking ion the
fact that it is not going over the heads of BFA-GOOGLE. This I firmly
believe, my pal, Alex Jones. Hopefully, you too will someday look at
my stuff, and realize that I am cursed under this mega thousand year
old family problem, JUST AS JIMMY TOLD ME I WAS, QUITE A LONG WHILE
FEREAKING AGO, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Y JIMMY Y, Y
DID YOU TELL ME THESE THINGS, OLD PAL????????????????? You put these
forces on me directly when you did this to me back early in 1974, and
you are responsible for my death and my hell, mother fucker. Most
likely you are long dead, I'm burying just about everybody around me
who I once knew. Time flies, or squash them, that's a hell of a lot
more productive and pleasurable. I'll speak for MY self anyway, some
of you out here might just adore poor little flies,
awwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Folks, lightning
was around me a while last night again. She is really being nice to
me these days. She is so beautiful when she turns herself into my
tall blond goddess, on the Astral Plane. IWALU baby blond love.
Playing
with five dimensions, wow, where can I evenstart someday to open this
one up, and try putting it on a level that folks will want to live in
a higher reality? You are not most likely old enough to remember this
thing that i'm about to tell you all, but when you bought your first
color television set, you never ever wanted to go back to black and
white TV. When you heard stereo and bought a set, you never wanted to
hear your music in one channel mono ever again. Well, if you
understood my life, really understood it, you would want to leap on
board the part of it that is not cursed, and know as much as you
possibly could about the things that I have done, and am capable of
doing, because of my awareness and knowledge to something that will
some day be called SPACE-TIME-MIND, STM for short. You are limited in
your own mind by barriers that both you and the accepted society
around you that you refuse to have them ostracize you, so you play
along and don't step too far out of line, “BUT” ODF, Henry Curse
Cursed Fonda Juries; have created. You are every bit as able to live
in all five McCoo, not McCoy, sorry, PBHE, dimensions as I do and
have done for a long time, but you choose to say, “That's OK Mark,
you dork, you keep your weird ass life”. Yeah, like I have some
fucking choice my brother. Do you choose your parents, your place of
birth. Yes you do, and my kid knows this whether she ever comes
clean and admits it all or not. I however, did not choose the curse,
I learn to live in misery with it. I'll never embrace this ugly
Albatross around my freaking neck.
ENDING
OF THIS TRANSMISSION, WHAAAAAAA!!!!
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