SAFE
JOURNL, CHAPTER 0477
KING
SHOEGLANDSHIRLEY TIMEMINDHACK
WL-SBT-DF:
0716.453
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“WORMHOLE
MCGUIRE/CALLIO AND COMPANY T3T7 SYNTHROID”
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2012
MONDAY
MORNING HERE AT SOB
PIERCE
MCCOY SLOW RECEPTIONVILLE, IN SUNNY FLORIDA
UNUSUAL
WEATHER ALWAYS A SIGN OF POWERFUL STM ONGOINGS
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
When
it is eleven in the morning down here in South Florida in middle
July, and is 74.7 degrees Fahrenheit, that is pretty powerful stuff,
unless there is a storm or hurricane and it is a bit overcast, but
that is it, hay I'm loving it Mister McDonald, but I know that in
lieu of what I now am going to say, the McGuire and Callio
SPACE-TIME-MIND Club is in session and going at it full swing, not
for the fences, but all the way over the top of the great Empire
State Building.
For
those who do not know the story and have no time to access or archive
many of my blogs of yesteryear, when I went down to Atlantic City to
create a slide show for my website, www.morianity-foundation.com/
back in October of 2006, shortly before McGuire wrecked my
automobile, an occurrence that has happened to many half a dozen
times IN THAT MOBBED UP ENEMY CITY, and was most prevalent in
1986-1989, but did continue into the nineties and beyond right into
this very incident, I was with the man doing this website, and time
was messed with on many occasions. It was messed with or else, why
did Ed have legal permission to own a computer but just not be on the
internet when this website was first initially posted up to the great
internet, owned totally by the fortune fat cat 5's, and don't tell me
it is not. If it is not, why can't little people get sites or do
things, if we need to always buy from someone, then don't insult my
MOTHER FUCKING intelligence and tell me it is NOT 100% OWNED &
CONTROLLED BY SOMEONE, SOMEHOW. Internet is a joke, the owners of us
all are the owners of it all. Why would the internet be one fucking
cunt bit different? They can do anything they want, can we, the
little 99'ers? PROVE ME WRONG, CONGRESSMAN assistance Clarence
Harris, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So all of a sudden out
of the blue one day, Ed gets arrested for having a computer. I talked
to his officer who came to his trailer, a nice but strict young man,
I forget his name, and lost his card that he gave me. If I still had
it in my wallet, I would call and at least try and get to the bottom
of this wild roller coaster ride, even though I totally know in my
deepest fucking heart, that there is only one answer, STM
MANIPULATION, and basically this is done by TYPE-3 EXPLORATRONS, who
can go onto the ASTRAL PLANE, and then from there, move back into
hyperspace, at any fifth dimensional point, indwell any sleeping
doppelganger of any necessary person, and then do what they need to
do in order to accomplish their horrific fucking mission. Nothing is
as easy as 1-2-3, that I can put on one single blog and just tell it
and hope to be believed or even understood, things are complicated.
First a law is seemingly altered overnight, later, an assault made on
both my automobile and ourselves, by Robert Tennessee Avenue McGuire.
Let me tell you how other great things all fit into this nightmare of
the 10SC Avenue Other MC club, or the 'TAOMCC', for a future quick
abbreviated usage. Pronounce it the TAA-OOMK if you wish, also. I
don't soon forget, how they made me forget on February 7th
in 1997, the name CALLIO. Since then, by not remembering the very
same name once, caused me to now be blogging on a blog that only goes
back less than one year, and all though my previous blog on the
blogger dot come website is up there, it still is an imperfect
situation to put it politely, as many folks just won't archive it,
and will only read the fucking new shit, and this is basically
pointless to do, as the needed connections totally require
referencing stuff from 1-6 or more years ago, and this current blogs
is only months old. In any event, I got in my car and left Robert
McGuire's bar that day in 1997, and POW, instantly they made me
totally forget the name that I managed to extract somehow and don;t
ask me how, from Sarah, over his bar telephone that day, and no
peeps, if you refuse to learn the story, I am not freaking retelling
it and making this blog 88 million words long. The point is that the
first of three interferences with normal waking world time order
realities, are as follows: The bar and name erased memory incident,
then the assault in October of 2006, and it could have been on
Halloween Day of 2006, as I remember Ed telling me he was supposed to
home by sunset because it was Halloween, and he is on the offender
list. He is not a bad guy, he was framed. I believe his story, Ann
King does not, and that is her right. If any of these two have lied
to me, from Blacks in the Military magnetic songs of major STM
TAAOOMK, and other freaking associated and related EXPLORATRONS,
it
was not Ed, but Ann. I trust nobody in that wonderful family of shot
out lungs and washcloth nightmares from the LAMIST BRIGGBASE. I
really do want to trust my daughter, but how can I after all of this,
and you have not heard anything yet folks. I also have no love or
respect or TRUST, for any authority. I'll obey for simple fear of
punishment, but only for that reason, where as when I was younger, I
had great respect once for the United States, the police, and the
political system. Right now folks, I would not give you one red
fucking cent for any of these cold blooded thieving
murderers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I learned this morning exactly when my
mother was told the GREAT SECRET, and we all
should know what's being said. I have no memory at all, just as on
the two occasions on 10-SC Avenue, in 1997 and 2006, back in the
beginning of 1984, of the trip out to see an endocrinologist, nor of
his name, nor of the wonderful LABBER who worked there, or appeared
to, as I know this was exactly the same case as when I was in school
in late 1972, with Sarah Jacobson, and you can all laugh at me till
doomsfuckingday, as I am living through all of this peeps, and you
are not, so laugh all you want to, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know that
the LABBER who I know was MI, despite not being quite age fourteen,
was not there when I went into this doctor. I also remember one other
thing about that powerful day, Lads, Lassies, Labbers, and Labrador
Retrievers, AKA L-4, and this is that I have not one memory at all of
the ride there, or the ride home, not on I-95, not on Academy Road,
nowhere, I was not even sure of anything. This all struck me while I
was rehearsing my song lines this morning, like total wild magic,
folks. I illegally recorded the conversation between the Labber and
me, and sent it to the US © Office back early in 1994. This is what
I fed to the digital sampler on my YOUTUBE project, piecemeal, and
recently, the directions that included the main them that repeats on
the old “GITYA” song written in early middle 1983 around a year
before, and also copyright protected, and this is why I created new
lyrics around this 1983 song, so I could have the Labber sample, sing
the song, pitched to the new creation, throughout the song. HAY
EXPLORATRON SUPERMIND, you're not the only one who can have fun and
laughs, throughout this long eternal fucking ass nightmare. I am left
to ponder, after stares, and stairs, and steps, that ever since I was
minus a million years old, this was all planned and done, and now is
just being acted out in Shakespeare's latest conscious mind catch up
play called, MARK THE MARK. I like the nickname that a very nice girl
at the Harvest used to call me, who was in the wild exploratronic
experience quite some time back, with the miniature Roseann Delaney
beds, and who told me to “Get back to work”, when I tried showing
them to her, and that Mickey Dancer Dee thought real funny to imitate
with the playing cards commercial, and anyone archiving OLDER BLOGS,
can see what came first, BUT MY PERNT ARCHIE CLUNKER QUEENS KING, is
thissssss, with or without any strange short wild square
architectural back yard structures, or persons in present possession
of the 'LIFE JOURNAL OF MWM', that began on the day that I moved into
Atco on Norris Avenue on February the first, in 1983: Lots of peeps
out here totally bet the farm that I am sick and saradroid, rhyme it
and laugh with or without any stair chases peeps; but a child can see
that the movie with MC in 2009, had not only the STC game in it, but
the 1983 music tapes as well. There is no possible way for that many
freaking coincidences to occur in a million Bob P. Cheatley Police
Station years. Hay, I am totally flattered Lieutenant Commander Data,
but what is my wonderful precious daughter really up to, after-all, I
know that Sarah did not just vanish out of existence in such perfect
time order back in time, YO. Also, even if somehow by a real stretch,
I am wrong in the sense of biology, well, explain the Astral Plane
trips to the political city of KRASSLEVILLE, and about a dozen other
things that would require many pages of unnecessary blogging. I will
say this much and everybody that believes me will have a place in
eternal heaven, and those who scoff, well, buy some asbestos
underwear and hope to take it with you after you 'die'. The doctor in
1984 called my mom at her office, and this is ON A BLOG FROM ABOUT
3-6 YEARS AGO, ON MY ORIGINAL BLOGGER ACCOUNT BLOG, and all though
here I was a grown 29 year old man, he calls 'my mommy' and tells
her, as SHE PUT IT, and was white as a ghost when she tried telling
me about it; after getting home to 506 Robin Hill Apartments in
Voorhees, New Jersey, USAESMWG; “Your doctor phoned and said your
throat is not your problem”. I said to her, “What exactly did he
say”. She then said, and I remember it well enough to place it all
in quotes, “I asked him what is wrong with my son, he feels he is
dying, he cannot swallow or eat or breathe and can barely speak, and
is talking about dying, and he said, Misses Mohr, his throat is not
his problem” Then her face grew cherry red when I said to her, I
know that is not all he told you, it can't be. Why exactly I said
this, I could not honestly tell anyone to this very day. She made her
way over to the couch and sat down and told me that, “Someday, I'll
get more information, I promise you that, but right now, just take
the medicine that Doctor Addiego prescribes to you and let me worry
about the details, trust me, I only want what is best for you, you
are my son”. Either that day, or shortly thereafter, I totally
believe, she was told that MC is my daughter. At this time, we are
talking about a fourteen year old girl. Still, I came to learn that
we had met on a train trip not that long before that, and on top of
that, without remembering the train trip or her and tying it into two
years in the future, some wild force got me to run into her in
Manhattan one night, and right a really mean song about the
experience a few days later around the 5th or so of August
in 1986, sending it to the Copyright Office on the 15th.
On this very day, my life altered forever in ways not explainable,
and most likely even if I could explain it, not bloggable. My mom was
told eight months or so after this time, by Richard Nixon's great
hatchet man of the Watergate Scandal Years, Mister Chuck Colson, who
put some 1983 Norris moves on me and my telephone, with or without
any BFA/CIA/NSA agents, that even though he is a born again
Christian, he is unable to help. This proves that the world is bigger
than God, and that the bible and its interpretation needs to come
down out of the fable lands, and allow the Quantum Physicists to take
their rightful place, in explaining the cosmos and humanity and
life's equations, and cut out all the fucking ass hocus pocus crap,
as that is what it is, and when you live my life, you CAN KNOW IT,
BROTHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hopefully,
admitting to the crimes I have committed, will not place me in a
position of a criminal prosecution, I do not have all my facts about
exactly what felonies and misdemeanors have just what statute of
limitations, and what the things that I know I have done wrong inm my
past, are equal to, in the categories listed above. At this point,
hay take me off to fucking jail, what else can any one of you
miserable fucking bastards do to me? You took away my entire life,
you fucked me out of my daughter, think about it bitches, WHAT ELSE
CAN YOU REALLY DO THAT WILL FUCKING MATTER????????????????????????? I
will not be posting songs, because even though I have a harmony track
for purposes of rehearsal, and would love to put it up there, until I
pay my recording studio bill for a terrific job, I live by a code of
honer and principle. Like heaven, literally, folks will have to wait
to hear it on the YOUTUBE. Hay, I know I am right, I have ears, and a
sampler may not be the real thing, but I can tell you, it is fucking
awesome.
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!
Have
I ever ever wondered? Not anymore Mister McGuire, the odds of this
all not being a major unfathomable yet true deal is trillions to 1.
::::::::END
TRANSMISSION::::::::
No comments:
Post a Comment