SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0443
KING
NEBNOOSHOO
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2295
SBT-DATFILE:
053112.579
THURSDAY
AFTERNOON
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT
CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BLOG
SUBTITLE NIMBER FOUR:
“I
WAS EXPLORING, AND NEED TO TELL WHAT I SAW”
©
2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, NJ
©
2006-2012 MWM/MWM/BOM/MF-2
VOLUNTARILY
SWORN LEGAL AND BINDING OATH OF
TOTAL
TRUTH. SHOULD THESE WORDS BE PROVEN LIES, I SUBJECT MYSELF TO
APPROPRIATE PUNISHMENTS UNDER THE LAWS, FOR CRIMES OF LIBEL AND OR
PERJURY.
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
Before
I begin getting into the exploratronic experience that I shortly came
out of right now, let me begin taking pieces of my nightmare that
really got going in the seventies and then just mercilessly
progressed into unfathomable hells of torment and torture, but let me
grab a subject and time era, hetre and there, abnd remain on that
topic, choosing one on each blog for a while, and then expanding and
elaborating on some of the gruesome details, without making
connections and tentacles that stretch all over other times and into
other seemingly non related subjects that only I am aware of the
exact ways of connection to it all. So today and now, I am choosing
to discuss the medical condition, the various laboratory technicians
involved, and the unexplainable story that surrounds all of this,
from about 1982 through 1987, and remember, in this world of time
era, there are no half dozen plus major recognized people that play
parts in this, just the people. I mean get real folks, President
Obama was once crying and hollering for attention and food and love
from his parents, from a small little crib. Everything gets started
someplace, and if asked, I'll bet dollar donuts to pony shows, that
our wonderful man in the big house of Pennsy Avenue, will tell you to
listen to the Mountainpen on this one. After-all, how can these words
be seriously denied or in any honest way even challenged?
Late
in 1982, I was being persecuted by the same situation and energy
reality of right now, 30 freaking years later. My downstairs
neighbors were mob connected, and thought it was funny to mess with
me and my mother, at our final period of life at apartment number
1802 at the Robin Hill of Voorhees, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG. I found a
home to rent on Norris Avenue in Atco, NJ, and we left to go live
there at number 134, on the 31st of January in 1983, but
the story starts back in the summer and autumn of 1982, and really
earlier still, when I made a comment, and winked at my mother, and
then left for my security job at the McAndrews & Forbes Licorice
Plant, on Jefferson Street by the Delaware River, in Camden, New
Jersey, USAESMWG. This story is not new to my blogs, but many do not
know it that are new readers. In a neut shell, somebody moved out of
the apartment below us at 1801, and the place was kept vacant for
going on three full months, an oddity for the management of this
apartment complex in the time era of the early nineteen-eighties.
Normally, units were exited, cleaned, and re-rented in thirty days.
Rarely if lots of damage had been caused, it might have taken as much
as sixty days before the unit was occupied again. Now this unit was
unoccupied for close to eighty days, and I felt that it was being
covertly used to electronically record the activities taking place in
my apartment upstairs.
One
day, after passing notes to my mother, I told her and winked with my
eye, to just go along with what I now tell her. I said that my friend
some friend, but I had not learned that lesson from demonic hell at
that time yet, and I said that my 'friend' Jim Burr was planning to
come over to the rental office Monday, as this was now a late
Saturday afternoon. He was planning to ask to rent the particular
unit that he saw was vacant, which was unit 1801. He would not be
making any mention of us or knowing us, just a stranger who drove
around and liked that exact unit from the outside, and wished to rent
it as soon as it is available. Bear in mind now that it had been
vacant and dark and quiet for more than 2 and a half months at this
point. I then left for my security guard job and when I returned, a
light was on in the apartment bedroom below me, sure freaking enough.
I could see one of the two maintenance men in there setting up things
and doing things, and this was after eleven at night on a Saturday
night. Sure enough, Dave, not the other dude Dennis, from this two
man maintenance team, of this apartment complex, was the boyfriend of
the girl who was about to move in, and did on the following Monday,
Tuesday, and Wednesday, slowly, piece by piece. This girl worked for
the Playboy Casino and was a Playboy bunny, and a noisy party girl
total whore. She drove my mother and I nuts with her loud raunchy
uncouth weekend parties, until we finally broke our lease for medical
reasons and with legitimate doctor notes that stand up in legal
proceedings in matters such as this; and we moved out and over to the
home in Atco, owned by Jerry Pliner, another butt wipe as we came to
learn, but that is for later on. I know that the mob used this bitch,
as well as her friends to persecute me badly. One of her friends was
a Cherry Hill, New Jersey educator over at one of the two large high
schools in Cherry Hill, either east or west. Their name was Mertsock,
most likely misspelled here, but I am spelling it the way it would be
pronounced. The excuse was that this teacher was head of the PTA, and
all though had nothing to do with any fictional Harper Valley PTA
deals, she was popular because she was involved in many things, and
thus somehow used to have my telephone number, and folks would call
continually for Barbara and David, the teacher and her husband, and
also many times for their kids or others supposedly staying with
them, all kinds of names I am trying hard to forget with the passing
of freaking time. In the same manner as Long Island wife, Jane Doe
Cifaloglio had hubby-Delmo leave that entertainment magazine in a
spot where there would be no way that I would miss seeing it, the one
in 2008 that told how Mariah Carey was on top of the empire State
Building with her peeps, shortly before she attended her 20th
high school reunion at HHS, both events heavily covered by press and
media, and on this occasion, her peeps were told to say to the world,
“She rules the empire”. Naturally, a joke to everybody else, but
the one it was really meant for to hear this and had not heard it as
I don't follow events of the entertainment world or EW, so they had
to spring into John Mason lost wallet Fort Daughterdale action, and
make dam sure I would see and read this information, and again,
Delmo, my site boss, was married to a hot shot Hampton Island family.
Right around this time, he began treating me horrendously for no good
reason, and I never had any problem with him for the first few years
that I was guarding there at his property. People cannot understand
why I seem to be so connected with things, and they get wildly
insanely jealous and fearful. This seems to be some type of a normal
human psychological response to my situation. I am then hated,
ignored, or treated atrociously, as a result, until I am forced to
remove myself eventually from the situation by moving from a
residence or a job. I promised to stay within the 1982 through 1987
range, Terry Harboreggs, see how next to impossible it is, when
telling the story of the life of Mountainpen and all of its
surrounding numerous outlandish multiplexed, and intricate hells? I'm
here to state that it simply cannot be done, and Terry can go screw
herself. She doesn't have to like my eyeglasses OR my writing style,
hay, don't look at my face, don't read my words. See if I shed one
lousy tear drop over you,
girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Still, in moving along
with this story, and returning to the first half of the
nineteen-eighties or trying to; in the same manner that this POP-UP
magazine appeared at a place in the Cifaloglio Garage next to where I
had to hit a security key as part of my job duties, I had to be at a
particular dentist office one day in Philadelphia back in late 1982,
while still residing at the Robin Hill Apartments at unit #1802. When
I got there, the dentist was behind schedule more than usual and I
waited quite a while and ended up going through a lot of reading
material. One magazine was at every single chair row, a total of
three. I could not help observing that, and decided to look at this
magazine first, and just skimmed and speed rear through it, and out
of the blue as I opened up, inside of the front cover page, was an
advertisement for a strange and new invention. It was to screen
telephone calls automatically in a cool way, by assigning number
codes to callers, and it was called PRIVECODE. Now in the very same
way that the other magazine trick that revealed the information of
the empire ruler deal, this got me to want to buy this telephone call
screening device, as it would answer my problems with those major
annoying Mertsock people who I was getting calls for dozens of times
every single day, late in '82. This machine never caught on for
reasons that go beyond what I can safely blog right now, but it was
all just for me to get this 300 dollar unit, set it up and use it
myself, and I did, exactly as was planned by the International Mobile
Machines Corporation or the IMM. I was later told ten or more years
later by a top technician sent to my home by my request around late
'92 or early into '93, that this strange device, put out more
electromagnetic energy fields than all other appliances in my entire
home all combined, and then some. Later still, when I had it opened
up and examined by a friend of my EX partner of the SPR operation, up
around the end of '98 or the beginning of '99 somewhere, and by a
dude who knew a lot about electronics, that this device is not like
any other thing that he ever saw in his entire life. It was not
functioning and I wanted him to try repairing it. When I initially
bought it, it was not long before I had attached in a series, many
other electronic devices, and all combined, this system caused things
to happen to the entire cosmos that will never be properly explained
by all the Hawking and Einstein folks of the planet, now or ever.
This entire system all hooked up together was a living entity that
became part of the dream clubs of the type-three exploratrons of
future times in multiple parts of the fifth dimensional
hyperspace, or (many uncountable parallel universes). It was used to
create CO-N0N-ART/SO-NON-ART responses that if I had known what I was
doing in 1985 when I first began experimenting with that aspect of
this combined powerful and awesome system, would have altered my life
forever, as I'd be greater than gates himself right now, only I went
throgh all of this never the wiser, as to my proverbial hidden
treasures behind my attic walls. This machine was creating
anti-energy in tiny dots, that move in five dimensions, only they
considered themselves to be at home or at rest, inside of my system
of combined electronic units, the main part of it all, being the
PRIVECODE MACHINE, built by the IMM Corp. This was the technology,
what was inside of this system, not some Roswell crashed alien ship
or saucer, that led to all of the advancements in technology. This is
why I suddenly was set upon, an attempt made on my life and my glands
and T-cell system in June of 1983, and why in 1986, they went all out
and declared me to be killed in a covert way, if it takes a thousand
years. Now involved with all of this, was the same people that
illegally made a sound recording of me as a young teenager, and got
it played as part of an anti-pollution commercial back in the sixties
and seventies, along with the other one that shows the teary eyed
Native American in the rowboat. Forces in Atlantic city knew about my
DNA, and my being the Chosen Huntington to carry on this family
curse, ever since the start of the sixties. They made changes in the
infrastructure of the very city itself, so that my mother abnd I
would end up vacationing on Tennessee Avenue at the Trinidad Motel, a
mile away from our original spot in 1964 at the Treymore Hotel, now
long torn down and gone. See again, Terry of Egg Harbor, the complex
energy fields involved in this HUNTINGTON FAMILY, make it a total
impossibility to tell my story, and keep it within one small time
frame. Again, instead of 1982-1987, we find our-self back now in the
sixties. There just is no way to tell my story in the manner in which
you said it need be told. Sorry, you are wrong, and will never live
long enough to understand my plight, my curse, or the Huntington's.
This story will be continued at a later time and on a later blog,
there is a lot more quite naturally. None of my hellish crap is
something that be told in a few short paragraphs. Now I'll move this
into what happened when I 'fell asleep' late last night just before
the dawn-Marie morning light where it most certainly will never ever
be all right, lovely Donna!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh Jason
Aquarius, why don't you all bug off and leave me and my peeps alone,
you dirt bags. You cannot possibly understand any small part of my
wild outlandish life, so go away and leave me alone, numb nuts.
For
hours and hours last night, my wonderful awesome beautiful luscious
Diana Zudlecronessia Arteemis, Goddess of Earth's Lightning, was all
over me and all around me, here at Fort Pierce, in Florida. She made
the most beautiful colors I ever saw in my infinite existence, and
fractal shapes and patterns both as ribbons and cloud to ground
bolts, so beautiful, that I almost ejaculated right inside my
pajamas. I cannot thank you enough, Diana, but know this lovely girl;
I am your little boy, and you will always be my tall and glittering
baby blond, the endless love of my life. YOU TOTALLY ROCK, LIGHTNING,
and IWALU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
was back in 2029 last night, in an area that was very wooded, and I
was with some strange folks who I do not know here in this time or in
this parallel reality. We were in a strange vehicle made totally out
of boxium, a material like a solid burlap bag, filled with strange
heated gases from the hypertronic-gravigain-engine. When the vehicle
ran, it weighed about twelve pounds when the engine was on and fully
heating the system. The way the engine works is the way many things
are all being retooled to operate all over the technologically
advanced global transnational world system. The concept of the
'higgie' as it is called for taking the above engine name and
creating three initials of achh-gee-eeee, and the computer hackers
will not allow me to write the three capital letters here, it insists
on altering it to the word 'he', a powerful time travel deal going on
right now as I attempt to break the rules and tell about this thing.
Let me see if I can defeat these traveling mother fuckers who just
now went back into time before this computer was finished being
built, and they inserted this hack into it, let me see if I can
hyphen it out as, (H-G-E). OK, HA-HA-HA, that worked. Yes, these time
travelers are way beyond your level of comprehension mister Hawking,
sorry to burst your ego bubble, sir. I live with this fucking ass
nightmare 24/7/365.2422, and I absolutely know this is all fucking
real, sir. I came to your party Steve, you would not let me in to see
you. You are a fool, all you cave day peeps of science and your silly
toys, you all are fools, playing in cribs with toys and
dolls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now, I'll tell
about the H-G-E since you fucked with me through time, ass holes.
Here is a full scale model, kept hushed up under a lot more secret
spots than Donna Wright Air Force Base, or A-51 desert locations of
Tomahawk Hopi Copters and MIB-DROIDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
personally have been in fucking contact with these things, and they
can fucking suck my dam dick at the speed of reflected time times
reflected time. Picture if you freaking will, folks; a chamber about
four feet by four feet and about sixteen feet tall. At the top is a
large solid 45 by 45 inch square cobalt magnet that will perfectly
slide up and down this rectangular shaped chamber. At the bottom, is
a very heavy duty coil spring with trampoline equivalent potential
energy. This heavy magnet is dropped and lands on this coil and is
sent back up through this chamber. As it goes up against gravity, the
side of the magnet that faces outside the chamber also repels it down
before the full energy of the coil is expended. Now the coil is also
a cobalt magnet, and the end facing the falling square gives it an
additional repelling boost up the chamber. Now beneath the coil is a
flat surface that when struck, acts as those large toy tops, when the
top of it is pushed down, and it causes a large spin to occur. There
are two of these chambers, and thus two tops at the bottom, very
large. One is covered with a type of wig-hair, the other with wool
substances. They are close enough together so that they do not do
anything other than rub together this hair and wool. This entire area
below is surrounded by thick glass. Inside the area is megawatts of
endless electrical static energy. Applying metallic connectors into
the chamber and outside along thick wiring, will power hundreds of
homes. Smaller models, run automobiles, and the lighter weight means
it needs only move the weight of driver, passengers, and a few
pounds, rather than thousands of pounds. Cobalt magnets last a very
long time, and can be endlessly found as well as made in labs. The
same power that spins planets for billions of years, will power our
entire global society in the future. But this is not all that I saw.
I will tell a lot more, and heads will roll soon, and I'll promise
you that, WOMO-MIL.
555555555555555555555555555555555555
This
compensates for seeing page eleven of eleven, and Jane Messface and
her four ones clock attack from 1993 at the Atlanta Baseball Field,
that monster ass freaking night.
I
will always remember hearing the song about 2029, back in 2001. It
was playing in 2029, and talking about all the wild new things that
we were now able to do. Still, I have seen things way beyond this.
But I feel compelled to answer a question that many are asking, and I
know this. Hay Mark you dip shit, if you can really do all this, then
why not buy a winning lottery ticket and all your financial problems
would be over? Well, dip shits, here is why. Forget the hyperspace
equation that might put it off by a digit here or there, let us say
that I could do it, and avoid HSE. Look what the enemies who control
everything, just did to me, when all I tried to do was to type in the
exact future name, in millions of localized hyperspace locations; of
the basic engine design that runs the entire new world of power
technology. Look, I will demonstrate by randomly typing in three
capitalized letters together, watch, know-it-all's. EHE, KYO, CDB,
FQW, FGP, EHY, ENY, OPI, YYH, WFW, BBR, JJG, ZAY, see how it lets me,
but watch now when I do not use the hyphens, and try typing in the
FUTURE “HIGGIE” ENGINE, OR THE H-G-E. Now watch folks and see how
nutty mountainpen really is, OR ISN'T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he he
he he , all that will come out unless I alter it with the spaced
hyphens, is the small word of (he)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You try it
on any WINDOWS-7 HP computer system, then you leave me a comment, or
drop me a line at Apt. #607, 601 Avenue B, Fort Pierce, Florida 34095
I dare anybody to prove my powerful MORIANITY story wrong. A man in a
great congressman's office in the year of 1998 tried this,and almost
went out of his pathetic mother fucking ass mind, I have no reason to
lie and make up any of this. I am not James Patterson. He is a
fantastic writer of fiction. I suck at writing fucking fiction. I
write only the fucking facts, folks, NO BULLSHIT, NO
FICTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE-HE-HE-HE AND HIGGIE ENGINES, WOW
MI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Can it be true, aunt
Babs????????????????????????????????
I
will tell you that I was in this vehicle, I was with some weird folks
I did not know, and they told me that I would be sitting here typiong
this last paragraph at exactly 4 of the clock, and sure as the
Loretta Sar, Mary Hartman; it is 4:00 PM on the East coast of the
United States, Daylight savings Time, and this is gonna' be my last
paragraph. We parked, and got out. When the engine shut off, within a
minute, the car was too heavy to be moved manually, the heat of the
HIGGIE-he-he-he, hack Stacey Jack Lattisaw, now cooling, thus when
parking, the car cannot be picked up or dragged off and stolen. We
got only small paved roads that were almost like dirt roads, narrow
and running throughout many miles of wooded areas totally unknown to
me. I looked up and the moon was twice the size it should be, and
then I knew for sure I was in a parallel reality that was not at all
localized to this one. Then a sign said ROAD-401, and one of the
group said, “Hay take this road, 401”. The driver appeared to
have the name Cannonball. You'd think he'd be a big guy, but he was
about five feet four and weighed about 110 ponds soaking sopping wet.
Sort of like 7 foot Shorty MacInvondi, I suppose, but anyway folks,
I'll finish up by telling you that I found myself as a passenger
here, and going up onto this ROAD-401. In no time at all, it became a
dead end driveway of a man's private home. He kept yelling for us to
get out and off his property, but the men in the vehicle kept messing
with him while I sat nervously there along with them. He came towards
us carrying a rectangular sign post that read “PRIVATE AREA,
unknown guests not welcome here” All homes were high atop ground
level, a minimum of twenty-five feet. Huge beams and supports were
built beneath all the homes in this wild and weird place. Then
Cannonball took out a strange weapon that made a sound that was not
all that loud, but pointed in the direction of anyone, and they
became a total slave to you. The man dropped his sign and peacefully
approached our vehicle. He was told by Cannonball to go into his
house and bring out all of his expensive jewelry. He did so, and he
returned back to our vehicle, with a large heavy looking crate filled
to the brim with necklaces and precious stones and jewelry like out
of some freaking pirate movie. Cannonball politely thanked this
resident, and told him to place it in the back seat, and he did. Then
we all just drove away, as if nothing ever happened. Then I heard a
horrible frightening explosion, and our vehicle was totally on fire.
I ran out rolling on the leaves and the grasses all around, totally
on fire. The fire just refused to extinguish however. I began
screaming and the agony was unbearable, and then POOF, sir Merlin, I
just woke up here, wherever this is, and sat down to do this blog
after first taking my morning bath. Now I'll post this up and watch
my LAW & ORDER television show, folks, so bye-bye for right now
brown eyed Callio Kali cow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAA. Go to hell, time-Travelers.
ENDING
TRANSMISSION: HE-HE-HE-HE.
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