SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0463
KING
NEBNOOSHOO
WORLD
LABS SBT-DATFILE: 062912.187
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
SUBTITLE
NUMBER FOUR OF BLOG:
“LIMITS,
BARRIERS, AND COVERTLY ENFORCED AGREEMENTS”
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR
SWORN
LEGAL VOLUNTARY OATH DOUBLES WITH THIS BLOG:
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
A
recent prior blog title was not properly explained, I was referring
to the two wasted lives, as spoken by my mother, her exact words,
that will be further examined on this blog, in lieu of the current
blog subtitle. This was planned, and not just part of my aging brain
that does admittedly screw up a lot of stuff, oh yes; but I am in
very good company, all of the SNAFU branches of the marvelous United
States Military, openly confess to this with that initialed word,
that I did not make up.
As
I said, things are slowly starting back up, but I have learned that
coming directly out and telling stuff makes it worse. I thought that
Ron Wirtz at the NJ, CCP Office back in the freaking nineties, was
exaggerating about his ideas on 'feeding the monsters', only I was
wrong, and he was not.
Back
late in the eighties around the time that I first met this man at the
CCPO, Mister Wirtz Senior, the WOMO struck me a lot with the same
death attack beams that they are recently using on me, screwing up my
health big time, and even blinding me. If necessary, I will take out
the entire planet. I have had it with this crap.
Many
people believe this is all my wild nutty imagination, but I know
totally better. I know that when all this started with me, there was
no internet, no large group who thought as I did with great leaders
such as Michael Moore, Alex Jones, and the list is lengthy, but the
point is simple. I was meant to be born, and do some powerful stuff.
I wish I had never been born, Jimmie wonderful Stuart, Clarence
Angels and transdimensional effects all not withstanding, and I wish
if I had to get born, that I could be living an ordinary normal life,
whatever that really is. Still, what I wish and reality, are two
totally different animals, along the lines of at least an elephant
and a spider. I am not making up the fact that I have been watched by
whoever the owners and controllers of this world really are, ever
since I have been able to crawl out of any kind of a crib. Just today
while buying a few half gallon packs of Breyers Ice Cream at the Fort
Pierce Publix Grocery Store, not Spell Checker recognized on this
Open Office Program downloaded at point of sale, into this windows 7
operating Personal Computer (PC). How I have come to so adore these
many politically correct initials, no David Roth, you won't find
anything for your throbbing headache at any employment location
medical station. How I will hear his voice echoing forever in my
mind, from the early summer time of the year of 2001; when after he
searched such a medical area at the Tecknion Furniture Building in
Mount Laurel, New Jersey, USAESMWG, and after his failure to find
anything to take, he sadly looked at me and just spoke those few but
oh so powerful words to me, after I asked him why he thought there
where no aspirin pills of any kind, and he said back to me, “It's
not PC”. I hate those initials my friend
RT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now you have the reason I wanted to have,
as you put it so well in early 1970, “THE BREAD”. Political
Correctness was not the reason, nor was the Personal Computer, still
these letters matched. I have blocked a lot out of my mind in order
to protect my sanity. I feel that a lot of us have done this very
same thing, but that is just my opinion, that the DOCTOR of RPL did
indeed entitle to have back in 1980, only about IRC's, still, she
entitled me, praise the SAR. “WOW” Aniwho and moving this right
along peeps, my intent was to park my vehicle, walk into the store,
and purchase some ice cream. Actually, four half gallon boxes of
their brand of Mint Chocolate Chip, really, it is basically the same
exact ice cream that is served in the great and non ubiquitous
FRIENDLY ICE CREAM RESTAURANT STORES. But I saw a lot of them in the
stocked area, usually there are maybe between 4-8 left, whenever I go
there. I ended up buying six, not four, I totally was going to buy
four. When I started up my vehicle to drive out to do my final errand
before heading back home, I remembered that the moment I walked into
the place, a large white man in his mid forties to mid fifties
somewhere, was glaring and staring at me. I took my eyes instantly
away from this 'store hypnotist', as was discussed in a recent blog,
but all it takes is one connection directly eye to eye. I ended up
buying six, not four. Four would have lasted well beyond the time
that SS disability money is credited into my checking account, and
right now, between the beach robbery on Watergate Day or June 17th,
and my recording studio bill, my funds are low, and I need to be
careful. I need a used tire, and I need an oil change, not extra ice
cream. This is how this works, and I have been very open and candid
about this for a long time on my blogs. He had no reason to be doing
this, I knew right away that something was very wrong. If I had been
shopping for more items than just ice cream, I might have ended up
purchasing a lot more than just two extra boxes of half gallon ice
creams. This proves that hypnotists can only do so much, otherwise,
lots of rapes would be happening, and anyone who knows anything about
my life secrets and story, knows that we won't even begin to go here,
onto this powerful topic tonight, but we will work ourselves around
it a ways. Again, a lot has to do with my wonderful darling god
fearing awesome mother, who did many unexplainable weird things
throughout my entire life, some to this day I have never blogged, not
told or soul, but WOW does it all fit into these 5-7 years of my
blogs and the story it is telling automatically as it tick tocks
along with my life. Let me tell a little.
For
those reading these words on any website, where the font seems to be
on top of itself line to line, and has no color, or links to my YOU
TUBE ACCOUNT VIDEOS, and you would like to read my blogs on that site
at the BLOGGER DOT COM ADDRESS, please us the following link:
I
have never told anywhere near all of the details about two co-workers
of my mother, Patricia and Emily, or her Boss, Tom and his beyond
weird father, or a million other stuff that happened at this world
famous shipping company, where many of the great bands used to use
their services while doing concerts internationally, shipping their
musical apparatus around. The story of 1997 is major, and so is every
dam thing in my dam life. It all is very major, let me say that
nothing is general, right here and right now, Lieutenant AVB. Oh yes,
symbols don't end here, as forces tend to have large vested interests
in keeping their secrets very PRIVATE, huh Chevy Chase Boozeyeller.
I
can think of two dozen unexplainable things that this great company
was all caught up in, but of course, I know my blogging limits, and
when to keep my mother fucking mouth SHUT. Still, my engineer told me
something the other day, that I'll treasure for a long time to come,
POP. That too needs to stay Gomer Pyle First
Class!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Even those who think my blogs and my
life is the quintessential insanity club of the internet, all know
certain things, and again, what I really want to rant on about, is
another do not cross barrier. I can, but I can also try crossing over
a train track while a powerful moving train is whizzing by, not the
greatest idea to sit here and choke on. Get my Dreeeeeeeft Katy
Queen??????????????????????? Now honestly, for those who insist that
this is all hooey and made up or whatever, how could I have known
about this royal ass screwed up future so well, when Store In High
Transport (SHIT) on the calendar was reading where my early blogs
show on a non changeable time-stamp system, along with the entire
blog website, nobody can cheat that, no clever notes in the pants
pockets 001. No retraced Tony-Roger, or as lightning might put it
when angry and in human form, no-how, no-nothing. I thought the
biggest secret that my mother had kept from me was that P had been
knocked up that first week in July under Central Pier, in Atlantic
City. It wasn't the biggest secret. I do not know what the biggest
one is, but I know that there is one, and I'll tell you just how and
why I know half this story and not the other half, folks, so bear
with me and don't growl to deep and loud, or play any piano notes too
low and slow. Ever since I was eight years old and my father left the
Bruce Manor Motel in South Atlantic City on Richmond Avenue, leaving
my mother to fend for herself with an eight year old son, something
happened, on top of an all ready something, that my dad was all
messed up into, and the dam feds know all about it. They had our
telephone tapped all; throughout my pre teen and teen aged years, and
my mother was scared to fucking death about something, and this was
all before 43 years ago and that dam secret. The FBI called her at
her office two years after Atlantic City and demanded that she come
into their Philadelphia office during her lunch break. My mother
would never ever want the phone listed, no bank accounts, no telling
anyone where we lived, her paranoia was far beyond, for even these
times and days now, anything any of you out here reading this, could
even begin to fathom, and I had to fucking live with this bull shit.
She took both of the gigantic secrets, the one I don't know now, and
the one I have known since late in the twenty-ohs, straight to her
miserable fucking rotten maggot sucking grave. Now my mother was not
all bad. But something was so wrong, somewhere, that no blog and no
story, even sop far printed by MORIANITY & MOUNTAINPEN, can come
close to really doing justice to the telling of the tales. But it
gets a lot worse than this. Ann King lied to me from the day we met,
and told me many lies that I bought once she won my confidence, and
any real SUPERMAN FANS can remember the old black and white TRACY
STACEY episode, after young Jimmie Olson was given a million dollars
by an old woman who thought that he had saved her cat, when it was
Superman who did but he flew away before the lady had realized that.
Ann told me a lot of wild things, a lot was true, a lot was more Ron
Wirtz Carlisle, Pennsylvania crap. Ann and Ron, wow, at least Ann is
not a County ADA, and thus has some kind of an excuse, whatever it
may be; but Ron, now we really do know that something always was up,
and big time. We've all heard of Don Wan, but how about Don Ron?
Well, grab a surfboard, and head to the 'other' island along with Wil
MacAfee, turn the clock back to the early seventies, and we have
another book that's Moby Dick sized or longer, Cap Ahab. WHAAAAAA. We
can call it, “the Other Red Ron John”. Yes, I have been taught
how to laugh by the experts. But all that aside, the story starts
getting quite ugly Lads, Lassies, Labbers, and Lab Dogs. Any really
advanced top of the line on the time cusp quantum physics lab
personnel, know that this is one bad story, that has no good way for
it to end. Normal non quantum physicists can always make a great
Hollywood type of ending to any story. This story does not end in
disaster, disaster IS what makes this story what it is, Dawn Humpty
Dumpty Facebreaker King!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ann admitted to
having some strange cassettes when we last spoke, and she insisted
for a second time, that she had sent me some stuff around last
Christmas season, a card, and some cassette tapes, that I never
received, and everyone down here claims to know nothing about. She
also has my wonderful 40 inch television that I bought back in 1995,
at the same American Appliance store, that is totally not a
coincidence cosmically, on the Black horse Pike, just west of Mount
Ephraim, New Jersey; from where I bought a refrigerator from in the
summer of 1986, that was used at the home rented from that monster
landlord Richard Karpf, and his time traveling tricks of seemingly
knowing about future Florida, and other things, that he may very well
have been in on, as remember how I told my blogs on several
occasions, how I called up a 411 information operator in 1987 and
asked for the number of a psychic reader, Madam Mary, on the Julia
Horse Pike, right next door to the great Carriage Lamp Apartments
where I lived in 1976 and 1977, and the operator gave me the number
of my ex-landlord, Richard Karpf, only the NSA/CIA/BFA peeps could
hook into a persons phone and play these monster games, or those
inside of these agency workers, asleep from a parallel universe, and
running the show, known as, what else, EXPLORATRONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
never told about something that happened in either the beginning of
June, or maybe the end of May, as I honestly cannot say. I was in the
Winn Dixie Grocery Store, shortly after telling on a prior blog how I
am so turned off by peeps singing in public along with music that is
playing. If they could sing really great, maybe, just maybe that
would be a horse of a different color, but it is like kissing in
public, with me, these things are not GENERAL, but MAJOR TURN-OFFS,
as doing it in PRIVATE is where, IMHO those things should be done,
but then, who gives a bloody fucking shit what I think anyway, on my
very best day???
I
do not want to do a real long blog, it is late and I'm fucking ass
tired. Limits and barriers and the concept behind them, was all
thoroughly discussed in my 1994 copyrighted book, called, “THE
PERMISSION BARRIER”. There is a connected to human consciousness
other huge limit and barrier, and I believe the message of this
truth, was delivered to me, with powerful accuracy about four and a
half years ago, despite my recently copyrighting the words late in
2007, sent to the Library of Congress on Halloween
Non-Phillies-Parade Day as this was the previous year; and other
things too, am I correct Sabrina Werewolf-brother Chris Collins? At
any rate, or 'speed', let me throw this in right here and now, not
privately, or in general, as it is quite major, Lieutenant Van buren,
of L&O, or is it Prince Formerly L&O? Between the King
family, all my teen queens in the sixties, my princess Donna and your
big ugly tub Don, we could all get in the ruing and really duke it
out with Marion Wayne. Any real western TV show fans or fans of this
cool dude, the DUKE, remember the fights, and how the sound of
cracking bones was so powerful on those huge ALTEC theater speakers
so long ago? Well, if you were in the Finnesteere Apartments Parking
Lot back in September of 1999 to witness that inconceivable arm punch
I took from gorgeous goddess Keisha, the sound needed no Altec VOTT
Audio Monitors assistance. Now what normal girl who just turned aged
fourteen, can do that to a 280 pound dude who worked out every day
back then and had huge solid arm muscles back then? This is why I
believe in holograms, androids, time travels, and no accidents such
as hearing MY on a tape, and not just any tape, © Office, right???
No, my mother mentioned how both her son and her husband, or me and
my father, were “Two wasted lives”. She said this as if she
already mother fucking knew this as gospel, Oh-Devil Record Company
Burns Movies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So really,
is that what it's all about, or is it the space platforms in the
future Star Trek movies, 'relative' to the time that my father
insisted that he saw this, back in 1974, WOW, Commerce Bank. Now, did
you have the conversation on my taped journal? Who has it now. I know
all those fucking tapes dfid not just end up in a heap of dam flames.
Whoever has all this shit, you are sitting on fucking ass gold mines,
and you better not ever make any fucking trouble for me or my dam ass
family. Take that in any way you wanna' take it,
BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
I
will close for now, but will definitely come back to all of this.
Yesterday was day number two of nabe shit starting up along with a
fire alarm, but I don't think that it was caused by anyone on my 6th
floor. Still, 'think', '6' as in the sixth or the MIND dimension.
What's that Commerce now TD Bank? WOW. Say it from here to the window
on Christmas, but let me add this folks, WHAAAAAAAAAAAA, only she can
really say it with precise emphasis,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
as the Ex Governor of KALI said so well, Jason Forrest of WFMU, “I'LL
B BAHK”, and I will peeps, but for now, I am gonna' pack it in,
BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. BYE-BYE.
55555555555555555555555555555
END
TRANSMISSION:
No comments:
Post a Comment