SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER DCXLIV (0644)
TEOHIV/TMCEAM/MORPRO
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2295
SEND-BACK-TEXT
DATFILE: 112612.884
BSNF:
“YOU MAY NOT WANT TO HEAR IT MARCUS AND
MCGINTY,
BUT THERE ARE MORIANS WHO WHO DO”
©
2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
Folks,
before we get into it tonight, I screwed some shit up, and not all
things will be corrected right now, but one or two blogs ago; I said
that my combined times at the Robin Hill Apartments, comprised of
years between “1989 and 1991”; and this was a typographical
error, so sorry. The 'nine' and the 'zero' are next to each other,
like with the 'C' and the 'V', so on many of my un-proofread previous
and precious blogs, AHA AHA Mike McNulty; I also screwed up and meant
to say, that the three times that I was living there at this
apartment complex, involved a time period in-between 1980 and 1991.
It is funny though, is it not folks; that my last time there, at
number 1102; involved a varying monthly shuffle that indeed was
consisting of the years from 1989-1991. But no, I meant to type in
1980 as the left hyphenated part, and not 1989; just to keep the
record straight with all of the Copyright Examiners, Carpenters,
Future Traveler Banker Television Commercials, Jokers, Hackers,
Lovely long haired young goddesses; and the mine field of predicted
debris, spoken of by me in songs, that came to me in unforgettable
dreaming-interactions, that forever altered my life through eternity.
Yes Mike, again, AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
sir people, EVERY OTHER ALTERNATE DAY, MY
NABES KICK IN WITH THEIR MUSIC, and then, also on this
day, came some nasty sky action in the late afternoon, along with the
attack by the across the hall nutty nabes. Some CHEMTRAILS
were off to my west of the building where I reside here at the PHA
Building at 601 Avenue B, in good old frikkin FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
USA-ESMWG. These frikkin
poisonous droppings from the skies, caused my nasty attack today
through chemical interactions that are responsible for controlled and
manipulated behavior of people, just as you hear the
great artist 'PRINCE' talk about on YOUTUBE,
so no need to just take my word for all of this folks, but yes, this
is causing my major diareah attacks along with suffering through
noisy attacks and persecutions in general from my neighbors. This has
gone on around me all of my entire life. Yes, mind can be hacked into
very easily by this monster ass mother fucking WOMO-MILITUFORCE
enemy of mine, and I am not their soul target, but I am definitely
very high up on their list to say the dam least here peeps, YO. So
this day has been filled with bad shit around me since shortly after
awakening today, which was somewhere in the late morning. Lots of
fire alarms again, lots of various attacks on my mind and different
parts of my health and physical body, lots of people control attacks
(NOISE)
normally, but it
can be various other types of even more forms of direct aggression
when the enemy wishes for this to be so in some rarer cases. But it
got real bad around half past three this afternoon with the start of
real loud music, not lasting a long time, but that short few minutes
of really cranked up thumping nonsense, then shortly afterwards when
I looked outside my window to see the weather conditions, there were
lots of fresh chemtrails in the sky to my west and nearby me, the
type that are 3-D, where they come up at you as well as swerve
around a lot. Then came the nasty cramp and diareah right afterward,
and I had to clean up the shit house floor afterward, as their
poisons can fuck you up to where it hits major fast and I am not able
to reach the toilet before some spillage. This also involves cleaning
my pajamas in the bathtub after cleaning up the floor with soapy
water and disinfectant solutions. Real gigantic heroes, aren't they,
these totally worthless all powerful BRIGGBASE
CULTIST MCKINNON WORSHIPPING SUB-SCUM
OF THE ORIGINAL SUB BLACK HOLES OF COSMOS???????? Still, when all was
said and done after sunset, and Roseann Delaney, wherever she is,
came out to play for the day, up in Jersey somewhere; I played the
non quantum system roulette, and made a quick easy two units and quit
while I was ahead, a nice two hundred bucks in a couple of minutes on
the 100-dollar chip gaming level, or $50.00 on the quarter level of
green gaming chips. After this was completed, I decided to ask my
GAGA-CAT, before I put the wheel-cards away; the real question that
has been bothering me so relentlessly for about two mother fucking
months now, and that is, “Just
what is behind these across the hall neighbors blasting this stereo
at me, right after I just merely 'thought to myself' that I would
blast some music at them for all their door slamming and shouting,
both in their apartment as well as right out in the hallway at my
door that is onion thin, only I never did it, yet the very next day,
they began also using loud music on me, as though they could read my
fucking very thoughts, or someone could, and then sent them a
message, directly or indirectly”? Then
I think my question while I draw first one card, then reshuffle, and
I draw a second card, after taking out the cards from the deck that
are not the ace through nine cards of the four suits. Both times I
randomly select from the deck, one card and place it back into the
deck, and reshuffling well. I write down the first
and the second number or the GAWNUM ROOT.
Then the PCN is the difference between the larger and the smaller
number, and if the numbers are equal, then the third digit is a zero.
In this case, my
PRIVATE-COSMICODED-NUMBER was a 671,
and an extremely powerful fucking ass answer to my query. I
have only three match-book-items
for PCN-671, and they are as follows:
VISION----CAN
FLY----SPEEDSHIP SUNRAM
If
you understand squat about the MOUNTAINPEN
and his MORIANITY
folks; you can instantly recognize just why this is such a powerful
answer to my frikkin ass query, YO-YO-YO folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It is more than time to tell you all that on the ASTRAL-PLANE, the
words SUN, RAM, and many meanings and descriptions of the Earthly
waking world English language word of 'VISION' all three can be used
quite interchangeably. I was never going to tell that until this day
when this all happened, but wait, as there is a lot more with this
yet to be told, and only a little bit more will be spilled on this
blog right now, so suck it in for all that it is worth, folks. Where
are you guys when Morianity needs you to verify a lot of stuff here,
lovely Progressive Flo and PAWM PIE HACK PROOF Tracy Ullman? Yes,
those weak and strong forces, mixed with the signal of the 6th
dimension sent down into 5th
dimensional hyperspace brains, machine as well as biological; all
inside of a Controlled Lawtronic Velocitron, I suppose my wonderful
daughter has a perfect word here for all of this, WOW!!!!!!!
Folks,
I know I have no right
to make such a deal out of the way that she said it, that day so long
ago, but if you listen to it on the song called, “DEAL WITH THIS
ANOTHER TIME” on my YOUTUBE CHANNEL, in the opening joke right
before the studdering intro-count, dedicated to none other than the
great Somers Point, New Jersey, child molester, Thomas J. Reale, and
not to Detective Bobby Goren of the NYC-PD-SVU, all though I really
do think, that through the back door; this is someones way of
letting me know that they in fact do believe my nightmare tale from
hell all happened, as I have claimed, and is all the total truth; but
forgive me, it is just so cool the way that she says it, in such a
disappointing way, beyond what I could ever make some machine do, and
this is all real shit from telephone taped conversations; the few
things that made it down here with me to good old sunny Florida three
years ago, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Very
soon, I will be publishing some really cool shit L-4. Just know that.
For right now however, we need another really good TRS, right
old pal, Jesse Ventura,
and by the way, please thank your cousin for me, for teaching me how
to communicate with DIANA ARTEEMIS,
way back in early 1966, at the institute.
I see now, that nothing just happens, and also, NOTHING HAPPENS other
than this wild and incredible frikkin dream. That magical sentence
that not everyone gets, will be reprinted here once again, “NOTHING
IS REAL”. Oh well, I always told you that you're reading MORIANITY
at your own risk, and give further advisories when you might wish to
'NEXT BUTTON OVER IT' to other blogs. Still, I entered this lovely
institute against my will at the tender age of ten years and nine
months, the day after Labor Day in 1965, and this was just two weeks
after seeing Sarah on Tennessee Avenue, huh Mrs. Marola, and by the
way, hello to you too, and also, why did you vanish on me twice; once
on your street, and again in Marcucciville, AKA Haddonfield, New
Jersey, USA-ESMWG? WOW!
I
told my Morians and all others out here, that I would really get into
some stuff, and I will, I promise you that, WOMO, and WOMO's first
half. For right now, I need to post up this blog and eat dinner and
go to bed, but we will get things done, all of this, my big secrets,
my lost memories, proof of so much that it's just totally not
disputable, my mother's 1976 near death experience told by her in her
own words written in 1977 in its entirety, all GAWNUM Q&A and
full match book lists going back to last summer when things began
going from worse and intolerable to worse and intolerable to the
fucking power of sixteen. For now, I have pales of nice new fresh
fish and am not planning to give them away, as I need to eat myself,
well, hopefully that will not be misinterpreted, crissake, this is
one reason that fame and fortune would never interest me, and in
today's world of the photo-shop and sampler, well, someday all my
words will be twisted around and re-posted on some demonic site
somewhere; and the world of the future might think that I am anyone
from the incarnated devil, to the risen Christ, gone insane. That is
your lovely world of technology ladies and gentlemen, so enjoy it,
still, my tapes are real, unless you think I made it back and
copyrighted stuff in the early and middle eighties from up here in
2012. Still, good peeps, can real events be messed with however, by
very powerful and advanced
entities, known as Type-3-Exploratrons?
It is time before I
close out here tonight, to just quickly begin touching on this
subject, more than I have yet done so far in these 7-years of blogs
almost. In 1996, shortly before Paula King showed up at my apartment
at the Highview Complex, in Williamstown, New Jersey; I went off to
sleep one night and the very next thing that I knew was being back at
my old high school, the Haddon Township high School, in Westmont,
New Jersey. It was late in the spring only instead of being 1996, it
was 1968. I was telling a lot of peeps that I had come back here from
1968, and I was with two men, one is known all over and loved by many
teenagers. The other is a friend of his. This first of many
road-trips with this exploratron, was into the past, others have been
into the future, such as the one with the Phillies winning the 2008
world Series, and the Halloween Day parade along Broad Street, In
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. But one thing was never told or even
intimated. I never said boo but not for the reasons of just keeping
my mouth shut. I had not put some of my many many 2 plus 2's
together, not until just this very ass day, folks, YO. I told
everybody back in 1968 that I was from 1997, but I knew even as I was
saying this to people back in time, in this powerful beyond
descriptiveness, Exploratronic-interaction that I did not initiate,
that I was from 1996, and not 1997, and so WHY this so dam important,
WHY? Is it because of early nineteen-eighties toy stores with bikes
and trains and video-games, and being a Toys R Us kid, or does it go
even deeper than that, Jimmy Burr,
sir???????????????????????????????? This hit me like a ton of bricks
just today while viewing some shit on television and just why it was
relevant, I do not recall now, but it was then, hours ago. Folks,
1997 was when I met the great ROBERT MCGUIRE in my adult life, on the
7th
day in February, if memories are correctly serving me, and with these
EXPLORATRONS, this can indeed become a very questionable item for
sure, good peeps, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But beyond even that, this
is when I first spoke to Estelle Anderson Bassler who owned the two
Tennessee Avenue Hotels back in the nineteen-sixties, and sold the
Bolivar Hotel to the illustrious and mysterious Sarah J. Karge, born
on the 18th
of July in 1896. The Bolivar Hotel is where the KING PARKING LOT, or
one of several of them, stood in 1995 right next to McGuire's
Pittsburgh Hotel and Erin Bar, and where he helped me talk to Sarah
Callio on his bar telephone on that fateful fucking early February
day, leading to my mother's wild dream about her dad's camp at Long
Beach Island back in the nineteen-thirties, and the money and the
property and the sales offer, and on and on, and then led to the
totally unexplainable medical condition that led to my mother's
eventual lingering horrific death right after the turn of the
century. This also was when my song written and copyrighted in 1983
was borrowed by the All Mighty SSJK, in a cute and unmissable way, to
let me know our connection and how we are endlessly and eternally
CHAINED together. I could go on and on and on, but won't, so don't
sweat it folks. Still, this was the real focal point and gateway in
two times, 1968 and 1997. The details of just how and why are a bit
sketchy yet, but give me some time to frikkin work on it folks, and
when I figure it all out, you'll be the first to know about it. Hay,
the Phillies did win it, and the high school was real, as I really
did tell those classmates of mine that I was repeating a very long
looping time life and was over 8,000 years old. This is documented
with the school board. It is not me that is crazy, but others who
have successfully managed to completely cover up a lot of really
unfathomably powerful humongous monster shit. This is why I am
determined to keep reliving this cycle loop and get it right
eventually, and if I cannot, then I will keep coming back and doing
this over and over forever and ever. This is all where it begins,
right on that train heading from Westmont into Haddonfield, right
Sabrina Trance Collins? Diana has told me if I stop renting out the
Flower Wing at my Ricktown Manor, and throw the family out of there,
things will alter, but every time I try to go down there, Barnabas
bites my throat out. Who knows, maybe this is why my glands are all
fucked up physically and yet the condition remains invisible to all
of the waking world medical professionals, because the problem is
occurring out on the fucking ASTRAL-PLANE. Who can ever really know?
Yes, the Capitol City on the entire Astral Plane is indeed filled
with hundreds of quadrillions of huge brilliant lovely colored
lights, all over three and four hundred story skyscrapers like
nothing any waking world architect could even begin to envision. All
around the great Sarah-Stacey Krassle's beautiful shop, she has even
greater and more special colored lights, especially on her 16th
birthday, which seems to be all the time and forever, or really, out
there in forever. Then even she, so it seems, dreams stuff in here,
am
I wrong Clarence Harris?
Merry Christmas to you too, Mayor Jul. 555555555555555555555555,
guess the time!
Lots
more stuff to talk about later on good Morians. See you later on, if
I have not been murdered by OTAMM, that is!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION:
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