SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER DCXLV (0645)
SUPPLEMENTAL
ENTRY
STARTING
BLOG:
I
AM BEING PERSECUTED HEAVY TODAY, LADS, LASIES, LABBERS, AND
LABRADORS, (L-4).
My
noisy scum bag across the hall nabes have slammed in and out all
morning long, strange insects are near my computer that I have
managed to exterminate, too bad I cannot fucking cunt exterminate my
horrendous neighbors as well. I am being MIND-HACKED via the
PAWM-OIE-ETTOS. I am doing things that are stupid, not
intentionally. The list goes on, but the point is that for nearly 27
mother fucking years, two things are real and amazing all around me
that nobody will believe. First, something totally evil and
paranormal has attached and surrounded itself to my life totally
covertly and invisibly, and second, it goes on and off like a
lightswith, coming at me with a vengeance and then backing away just
as stealthfully. I have tried hard to figure out what causes these
WOMO-MILITUFORCE ASSAULTS to come
and go as they do with such unfathomable suddenness and fervor, and
it is like cosmologists with their never ending theories of the known
universe along with their ever altering ideas and new science
knowledge that is so quickly replaced with the then soon to follow,
newer science knowledge. It is very identifiable and relatable, at
least in my mind, as I see these things very similarly. None of this
is why I am blogging. This will be all about the old days where I
tell another TRS as a counter strike and revenge tactic for these
bastards upsetting my mother fucking days over and over and over and
over fucking again, so be braced, or go and click on that old famous
blogger's site “NEXT” button. Yes peeps, just because I do not
ever have the reason for these onslaught attacks on me that are
carried out by the WOMO forces, does not mean that they are not both
real and there. You cannot see atoms or germs, and you cannot observe
or see with the five sensory systems, things as sadness or anger, or
happiness, or love, or any of a string of powerful emotions, only the
effects or feelings that they produce. You cannot see the wind, but
it is there and makes a real mess after a huge storm, right Ralph and
Sandy from the 1983 AT&T days? Right, Miss Blake? Should I really
have calmed down, or did I have real David Leigh Smith reasons for
being upset and frightened after-all, mahm?
Not
only in 2006 when I started this project, was I stopped, until Ed
Lynch finally got things to work to some degree despite huge illegal
attacks on my First Amendment rights to free fucking speech in this
country, with the hacking that you observe in the re-posts that have
been displayed again on this newer blog, of my MORIANITY BIBLE that
was the starting of all of this MORIANITY PROJECT blogged onto the
internet, but I was bullied by the ATLANTIC CITY BRANCH OF TAWF,
property was wrecked, Ed Lynch and I were stalked and knocked around
by that big old Irish enforcer and bully, Robert McGuire in October
of 2006, not to mention all the things in the nineties that these
fucking cunt lapping monsters did to me as well, and to my pool
elderly defenseless mother, and with the New Jersey corruption, got
scott free away with their evil monstrous fucking crimes, leaving me
in shambles and shit, from the wicked deeds of these heartless,
shameless, soulless cunt eating mother fucking total bastard cock
suckers at the speed of light
cubed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't die on
me Stacey Mullica. Yes, the dreams of mail carriers, how Dawn King
almost stroked out that day when she heard him and myself discussing
off the beat and non-mainstream topics, outside her husband Chicky's
pizzeria that morning, crissake, I thought she was gonna' have a
fucking cow. Yes this is a day of real nasty siege, something huge
must be going on with me in some way, here on this fucking evil
Wednesday. Let us press on here, shall we Mister Kent?
Let
us talk about the great DAWN KING,
and instead of speaking ill of the dead, I am willing to be her
advocate, to show potential moles and servants of OTAMM what they can
expect once they have worn out their usefulness with their master
that the Christian church names LUCIFER,
SATAN, or just, “THE
DEVIL”. Dawn did what she did to me, nearly killing me,
taking all that I had from a life collection of hard work and lots of
struggling, away from me without batting an ugly eyelash, making a
year and a half of my life beyond miserable with threats and
intimidation's and illegal activities, and on my very last day with
her, accusing me of breaking up the parents of greatest female
recording artist on this Earth, while I was just a teenager, a total
lie. But, we will not speak ill of the dead, right Jerry Orbach? When
she began to get physically ill as she was mentally bonkers from the
age of two or so; she was taken to the hospital and instead of doing
anything at all to try and save her life from cancer at the child age
of only 42 and a half years or so, she was just permitted to die. Ann
King, her mother, to this day tells me the story is right out of the
TWILIGHT ZONE, and she needs not strong arm convince me about that,
as I have personally witnessed my own little demonic miracles for 58
years now, only with me, they are regular, and happen over and over
and over again.
In
the two-four year period of time before the demise of Dawn-Marie King
through a horrible cancer, she would have me take her down to
Atlantic city on many errands, and one was to see a friend of hers
who's name was Cuba. She did not know it, but I had been intimate
with this fucking screwy fucking prostitute back earlier in the first
early years of this 21st century. She mysteriously told me
after we had great times and I paid her well for her sexual services,
that she was no longer going to see me. It was so beyond weird and
mysterious, one minute things are wonderful, we both are getting what
we want, her with money, me with a good steady hooker, as many of
them, the majority really, do not please you no matter how much you
give them. This resulted after all that fucking wicked crack cocaine
came into the picture as the disco age and the seventies progressed
towards the final years, and only got far worse in following times.
Anyway, I came to know that Dawn was friends with Cuba, being an old
eighties Atlantic City whore herself, both Cuba and Dawn. I used to
see Dawn as far back as 1986 in my gambling days, standing not that
far from Tennessee Avenue on Pacific Avenue, or the night lady strip,
as locals refer to Pacific Avenue; not together, but they both
worked those streets, and Cuba was younger so I only saw her years
later on Broadway, the hooker hangout mostly used by Camden, New
Jersey whores. Cuba refused to tell me why I was no longer allowed to
see her, and acted about as mysterious as the United States Air Force
does about the topic of Flying Airships and the Project called
Bluebook, right, Agent Falcon, and Agent Condor? Yet she knew what
was going on. She knew that she all ready had been given a mission
over the following five years after first meeting me. She was the one
that made sure I would run into this wonderful KING BRANCH of the
family, years after all ready running into their distant cousins, the
McGuire's, the Callio's, the Levy's, and others all cousined up
through marriages. They even uses Steven J. McGinty, from Mars Print
Shop, back in 1977; as well as the Marnie psychics, Bill and Joann,
in 1976, who got me the job there, as a huge. This entire mess has
been going on since 1965 when I first met Sarah on her street,
Tennessee Avenue in late June, and this tiny encounter plus the one
in middle August of 1965, my second stay at the then ?Trinidad Hotel,
now the Super-girl-8-Jenny Johnson chain and merely one hotel within
that chain, after Tahren and Rieka Gandhi sold out to this chain
shortly in this century somewhere after the nineteen-hundreds were
gone and over, and around the time that McGuire destroyed my
automobile and got into Ed's face in my car, while he was taking
website photos for the Morianity-Foundation. All of this rotten
wicked demonic pure evil connects up, as right after my encounter, I
end up in the Neuro Psychiatric Institute of Princeton, New Jersey,
for doing nothing criminal, and at the tender age of ten years, where
I was almost killed and nearly died on several occasions, and was
molested while ill in a seclusion room, by those filthy attendant
women. I cannot imagine being able to supply any worthwhile DNA at
that age, but it is more than funny how so many world wide UFO
abductees all tell the same story on many occasions, right AGENTS C
and F, of being experienced on sexually for genetic reasons, or said
in another way, their sperm samples taken. Until all of this happened
in the early days, and then since 1986 and all of this shit happening
to me on top of it, I used to believe in the immaculate conception as
a mysterious religious occurrence on face value, but now, no more. I
have seen to much, witnessed too much, and watch my own personal life
turn to dogshit after meeting and dealing with these gods and
goddesses for ago long in my present human incarnation as MARK WAYNE
MOHR. One thing I do know, is that they mean nobody any good who is
having a rough life. Those dealing with them who are having a life of
leisure, those are the ones in their favor. Those like me are to be
used and discarded, abused, and destroyed, no questions asked, me,
Dawn, and many others in my category. But then the great BRIGGBASE
CULT of LAMISTS, some may call them Illuminati and other names, have
certain plans, and when someone such as myself ever dares to rock
their great boats filled with their ego cargo and other wicked evils
such as mind control and distraction from boredom techniques such as
the clubs mentioned by me in the Morianity Bible openings of my blog
project early in 2006, these people need to me 'illumiliminated'. I
did not write or post these thousands and now maybe millions of
great YOUTUBE videos, but I did say, long before most of it was ever
up there; to watch out for the mighty and frightening
WOMO-MILITUFORCE and their ASTRAL-PLANE BRIGGBASE, or this LAMBRIGGER
ASTRAL REALM CULT OF HUMAN WORLD ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY PEOPLE, all
though I never advocate law breaking and especially violence or
terror in any form as this makes us like them defeating the purpose
of cleansing; but I did warn how all this was real, how it got much
bigger in the sixties, and even how Charles Manson himself saw all
this in a powerful drug induced VISION, and went totally mad and
insane, but with some sanity left, enough to remember certain truths,
he went onto finish a mission along with helpers who also knew these
powerful truths, and this is what led to the great massacre.
If
this party across the hall escalates, I am supposed to e-mail my
Building Manager, and will. They have a right to some noise of
course, but this is real bad today. These welfare rats don't pick
normal partying times either, like weekend afternoons or holidays.
They think they can just party hardy at all hours and days and
disturb me in here, and I was told,they are on there way out, so let
them just keep on trucking, and they will be where all good trucks
end up, out on the streets, right whore Cuba Backstabber? I always
knew I would get to the bottom of why you did me the way you did, you
and Lottery asshole Dad, huh?
END
TRANSMISSION:
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 first 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 reshuffle 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' can all three 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 second
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 to
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 is all of 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 1997 right next to McGuire's
Pittsburgh Hotel, and Erin Bar; and where he helped me to 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 into these 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, that are 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:
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER DCXLIII
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2293
SBT-DATFILE:
112512.159
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT
CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BSNF:
“THE MESSENGER WILL SPEAK A LITTLE BIT NOW”
©
2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR THE GARBAGE KING
ALL
MY BLOGS ARE SWORN VOLUNTARY OATHS THAT
CLAIM
TOTAL TRUTHS BEING TOLD, I SOLEMLY DO SWEAR
THIS
UNDER FLAG AND CITIZENSHIP OF THE USA, AND
THE
ALL MIGHTY GODDESS AND RULER OF IT ALL, SSJK.
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
Folks,
let me tell a few things, and I will try hard to keep it very short,
and to the point. As many know, I really do not have anything to
prove, and it is obvious to any non soulless people, that my enemies
are the ones desperately, and unrelentingly, attempting to discredit
and disprove me; yet laughing, and staying on the winning end of many
things the entire time, in and through covert, and stealthy ways.
First,
and this has been talked about before, for a solid month now, my
crazy ass hole neighbors from across the hall, are on some kind of a
roll that no coincidence can be rationally believed in, and I am
speaking about the way they fuck with me IN
AN ALTERNATING
DAILY PATTERN, or every other day, for a SOLID
FUCKING MONTH NOW. So on this day, after a mother fucking
dick licking month of this, I totally know that some kind of teasing
is BUILT INTO THIS PERSECUTION
of me by these twisted fart huffing screw balls, and thus have
finally asked my GAGA KITTY just
WHY THIS IS BEING DONE TO
ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The 'dam answer',
President Corsakolf McCoy, is as follows, according to the great and
mighty mystical cat known on the ASTRAL
PLANE CIRCLES as GAWKY GAUKAUK!!!!!!!!!!!! The PRIVATE
COSMICODED NUMBER OR (PCN) IS (927). This includes these powerful
items from my GAWNUM MATCHBOOK LIST:
CHRISTMAS---PAULA
KING---LIFEGUARD---DAVID ROTH---CORAL REEF---MANHATTAN---
There
are other less significant items in the list that need not all be
printed on this blog, YO! WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!
I
also asked my GAGA-KITTY, why this Saturday, November the 24th
was so very bad, and it was folks, as I had major computer hacking
while attempting to post up the previous blog back earlier yesterday
on the Blogger site; one freeze up after another, when I tried to go
to the title rectangle and print the title, sir buddy chum old friend
and now Chairman, Federal Communications Commission, and Federal
Bureau of Investigation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My
answer to this query, was the PCN-583,
matching these following main items in my
GAWNUM MATCHBOOK LIST, YO PEEPS!!!!!!!!!!!!
ENEMY---CHAIN---CHINA---MASON---NOISY
NEIGHBORS---MARK MOHR'S SECRET DAUGHTER---
Roulette
is getting harder and harder to win and beat the card-wheels as 2012
progresses onward, but I managed on a very nasty ass Saturday to
crank out 3.5 units on my system that I do not divulge details on due
to quantum destruction effects or QDE for short. QDE is why I
procrastinate telling many things on my blogs, until I get what I
need out of a situation, and then it is safe to talk and have the QDE
strike me like a mack fucking ass truck at 100 miles per hour, YO. On
a black gaming chip level, as I used in my professional gambling days
in 1986 from early March through late October, this would come to
$350.00. As for the quantum roulette, I played hackers and was up one
unit, I played nabes and was up two units, and I played the general
combined WOMO factions together and was up one unit, for a combined
additional 4 units, a daily total of 750 clams, and even on the green
quarter level, this comes to a nice hefty sum total of $187.50. I'll
survive Mizz Gainer, YO!
As
for a nice juicy little RATS-TATS-FOOTBALL-TRS, or (Today's Revenge
Secret) for wrecking another one of my days, let the old messenger
tell you a short little story here good folks,
weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. I have talked on and on and on and on about
sleep and dreams, void, parallel universes, exploratrons, and what
was done to me in the sixties in Atlantic City, and other times by
McGuire and other 'lovelies' of 10-SC Avenue of Trump Village,
but I never hit a real home run on one thing, or at least I do not
think that I ever covered this with any powerful elucidation and
elaboration; so now I will, just a little, as an opener for tonight,
and a closer to the blog.
I
have talked about the knee-jerk reaction to things that I try to
expose and uncover and make public, that as the great KEVIN
TRUDEAU
says on his infomercials so perfectly and marvelously, THEY
DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW, OR ME TO TELL THE GENERAL PUBLIC, and this
also is a topic that has been blogged and blogged
about by me, Mountainpen, onto MORIANITY,
and recently reiterated upon as well. I speak of a 1988 documentary
aired on the WPIX
NEW YORK, NEW YORK TELEVISION STATION, CHANNEL 11,
CALLED, “UFO, THE COVER UP”. Let me tell all of you, that what I
know about all of this, goes far beyond what anyone else in the world
in this time period knows, and has to do as said over and over, with
DREAMS, HYPERSPACE, THE ASTRAL REALM, and ADVANCED TYPE-3
EXPLORATRONS. The detailed information that I have given, and how
what I know differs from a lot of powerful parlor tricks and illusion
performed on humanity for a very long time; is not the point at all
however. The point being made right now, PERTAINS TO A TIMELINE.
Looking back at my life, a powerful exploratronic experience that I
had, where I was told to talk more about the nineteen-seventies, is
only a part of this, but it fits like a perfectly smooth fashion
model's glove. It goes through these seventies, and then after they
all end, and I move into Robin Hill Apartments, in Voorhees Township,
in New Jersey; for the first of three times living there, from 1980
through 1991; and has major connections to many years, that are
separated by a very powerful and magical number, the number of three
(3). I speak of 1965, 1968, 1971, 1974, 1977, 1980, 1983, 1986, 1989,
1992, 1995, 1998, 2001, 2004, 2007, and 2010. Make no mistake,
without my typing so much as one more thing tonight, the mighty WOMO
MILITUFORCE, is one scared and angry bunch of entities right about
now, and I haven't even whet the apatite of Al Jolson, and the entire
crew yet; let alone rung the bell that begins the fish banquet. This
great WPIX UFO documentary was aired in 1988, but 1989 is when some
of the real stuff that was talked about in this great documentary
with the agents Falcon and Condor, all began to culminate and blend
together, and begin the new age, at least over here in the
'Western-World' as the Asians and Europeans refer to all of us over
here. A moron can see that I will be opening up a can of worms, and a
hornets nest, that makes all of Atlantic City in New Jersey, and one
lousy branch of a great world famous family from Massachusetts, seem
tame, if discussed only in the surface of them, here on the waking
Earth tangible material world. All things have doppelgangers, all
things came from a huge unimaginable dream-out from void nothingness.
The hugest conceivable super computer could never put together, just
how the 7th
dimension of lawtronics operates, but it does, and the future knows
that it does for reasons that would take a day of typing to try and
begin to explain. Still, analyze the phrase and see how it fucks with
your mind, “NOTHING
IS REAL”.
What is really real people, is NOTHING. All else is a huge DREAM-OUT,
or a CREATION.
Seeing it anyway you wish is part of the parlor trick. No human will
be alive to witness whether or not the universe works with the
'steady state' or 'big chill' or 'big crunch' or 'recirculation' or
any other thing that scientists and astrophysicists may dream up as
time continues to pass. Morianity has attempted to tell, what I know
because of a future life I live, as Labber Zeejins, at the World
Laboratory. But all of that was revealed to me right after the time
that this fantastic documentary was aired in the late
nineteen-eighties by WPIX CHANNEL 11, television, in NYNY. Choose
your poison, folks, let us use the big chill, which right now as 2013
approaches, is the most popular believed theory of the future of our
universe. This means basically that things will expand for trillions
of years and eventually all nuclear action will cease, and things
will be dark and cold and still. This is void. This is where
dream-out occurs. Existence never was part of atomic reality, and
goes beyond it, because it is there in the dark nothingness of void.
However peeps, if things crunch but do not recirculate, all that is,
exists in one gigantic ion of hydrogen, and this force of existence
still exists in that state. If this force is what blows it all
endlessly in and out, then the concern either way is just a reversal
of opposite concepts. The truth of void never changes, nor that all
that is real is in fact this void, and that we as part of it in dream
states, simply 'exist' and nothing matters, as nothing starts or
stops, and time is just part of a small package or bag so to speak,
containing many items. It does not even have to be there at all
except to permit the dreams that we currently are all seemingly in.
Still, this just takes us to the point that everything in this dream
is a big parlor trick or game, and only the more advanced parts of
the package can create parameters of that game and set up some rules
and guidelines. Many blogs from years ago in Morianity, have labeled
this as EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND.
This is merely a collective and club of a sort, of advanced (T-3-E)
or Type-3-Exploratrons. But the much simpler point for today, and the
hard punching revenge secret built into all of this; is as follows.
The timeline of all of our lives, runs in threes, in years, in
months, in days, in everything. This is a magical number, as is the
one directly above it, the number of '4'. Proving to me that 3 and 4
are indeed the codes to the cosmos, is the way that they will lead to
the number 1984, and this number is a year like no other number, for
me. Even though I discuss years like 1969, 1980, 1983, 1986, 1994,
2006, and others, a lot more than I do 1984, is only because, we are
approaching a time where I need to show a line in the illusion, a
line where 36 months separate many things in my life that cannot all
be a coincidence, not unless the odds of a powerball jackpot are what
you wish to accept for things to all have just happened in a random.
“That's not his problem”. No, Ralph and Sandy, perhaps it is not
indeed, so then, what is? As sands through the hour glass, Doctor,
what is, because I am here to admit that I do not have all the
answers, and McCoy and Mo can curse and swear all day, but it changes
nothing. How can all of this have happened, that is unless Jehovah is
indeed SSJK, and Morianity is all true and accurate? So as Copper
Kettle Fudge Shops of Atlantic City said many years and decades ago,
“You be the judge”. OK fine, so what is my problem, Doctor?
Please, all I ask is that you don't say, “I-I-I don't know”.
Please, because if you search yourself, you know that you do know.
L-4, search the 7 years of blogs, and see how the Fascitar connects
into all of this. I never said Jehovah remembers it all while
dreaming here with us. But every time I tell how to use this great
system, notice the interactions start up with me, and the great SSJK.
Give me a break, Chinese
Girl, and watch those matches.
Bob, Dawn, and Donna, the real 'hot stuff trilogy', huh? WOW.
ENDING TRANSMISSION:
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER DCXLII
TEOHIV/TMCEAM/MORPRO
BSNF:
“I GO WHERE ALL THIS TAKES ME, WHETHER OR NOT STEVE MARCUS NEWKID,
WANTS TO HEAR IT OR NOT, MISS AT&T BLAKE”
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2293, SEND-BACK-TEXT DATFILE: 112412.495, LATE
SATURDAY MORNING
©
2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON,
NEW
JERSEY, AND FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, GREAT JASON FORREST OF WFMU RADIO,
MAYBE STANDING FOR WORLDS FATTEST MUSICIAN
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
I
cannot talk, as I am not razor thin myself, still, I never put up
anything about anyone onto the internet. All bloggers talk about
folks in various ways and degrees at different times, and that is
where my lines are drawn, but now that this crap is up there, destiny
has spoken.
My
nabes from hell were in and out all night from late Friday into
nearly six this morning, with only one bang, and one quick hallway
talk, at least they did not shout. Still, I always know when this
type of night happens, that loud music follows that day, usually in
the morning, and it did, and woke me up a little while ago around
twenty minutes before noon. Beats the 8:30 shit from last weekend, so
I learn to find a positive out of something, if indeed possible.
Where the white lady whom I spoke of, also pleasingly plump and quite
tall around six feet or so, came from that day, I do not know, she
must have just been a visitor, as the actual neighbors who moved in
across from me when the other man moved out two Septembers back, are
a thirty something heavy set African American couple.
This
could be a real tell all blog, but I am not in the mood to give Q&A's
or teach lessons, or tell secrets. I feel that those who read
Morianity, are in two basic groups, there are the enjoyer/scoffer
types, and then those who really do 'GET IT'; and they see just what
I am indeed up fucking against in this life, as the entity who I
presently am existing as, in this dream down, off of the
Astral-Plane.
What
I do want to discuss is the OTS, something begun late in the
seventies or very early into the eighties, as the line is blurred for
me by now, but it was during this decade changing period, where this
did take place; and it stands for 'Otammic Teasing Syndrome'. I have
come to know, that no differently than with many things in the last
two generations where for the first time in humankind's history,
people just never grow up, a back to back mental Peter Pan society of
brats and nah-nah-nah-nah---nah children, living in grown up bodies,
that being teased by this organized humongous and about as all
powerful as any human group of anything can get; is something that I
will for reasons that elude and fascinate me, be handling and coping
with, until the day that I eat my final American Pie, early in the
seventies or whenever, and with or without the great mayor and beach
chief in his non dike form. Hay Steve
Marcus, I really don't want to
hear any of this fucking shit either my friend, the only
difference between you and me is that you have a choice, and I am an
eternal fucking beggar in the grand scheme of cosmic things, huh
dude?
“I
want to help you with your problem”. Gee really Steve McGinty, do
you really?
Commissioner
Sir, this blog has been taking me where it is taking me ever since
the very first second I went over to the Hammonton, New Jersey
Library, early in oh-Marola-six, and began the first paragraph of the
OLD TESTAMENT OF THE MORIANITY BIBLE.
There is no altering that reality no matter how hard anyone might
ever try, or even how able they are with their great power and
wealth, to somehow just make it all a total lie or fantasy. Real
MORIANS know that this is all the truth, and watch the events unfold
around us on a daily basis, backing up a hell of a lot more Morianity
than they ever hoped would be the case, and now, to be quite frank
about shit folks, they are stuck indeed, in the beds that they all
have made, all by themselves, sheet by sheet, corner by corner; and I
will tell you 001 why then you need to sleep in it. For
many folks, sir, it is the only one they have, as not
all of us get to make millions of dollars off our ideas,
but instead, are ripped off and used all their life, while others
profit, and we are stuck in rotten beds that can cause back injury no
matter how wonderfully we try and make them up. Hope this answers
your great question about that, oh wise one. You did not seem to have
that rock-paper-scissor throw, so let me for once, assist you, kind
sir.
I
thought that my life was bad until early in this year, in the very
first quarter when two things happened. Jessica Grant fired me over
at the http://www/harvestfoodoutreach.org/
in early March, right around the same time in March that I quit the
RPL Studio job back in 1981. It was to the day or just about, and I
do not find that coincidence meaningless as many would, especially
since she is related to the great historical Grant family in a direct
lineage, and hated me for the most part, from the go-bat. The second
reason for this year going to super hell cubed and then squared; is
because I dared to try and prove who the All Mighty Goddess really
is, and just as I tried doing this in the first place, back in the
1997 era, things got nightmare dark and bad for me, beyond any verbal
description, or attempt to really properly relate the story of it to
normal peeps, not going through a direct contact; Agent Condor, and
Agent Falcon, sirs. It was right around the
time of this WPIX television documentary aired on
channel-11 in NYC, that I was nearly murdered on New Jersey's
Highway, 295, coming home from a place called Rossmoor Community,
where I was with David Roth, who was guarding there that night; and I
slept in my car outside the gate house. All this was in early 1988,
and the truck that ran us intentionally off of the road was a
McDonnell Douglas NASA truck, driven by a man by the name Jackson. I
thought I may be able to prove an indisputable series of events, all
leading to this conclusion that Jehovah does indeed come to this
place, HER CREATION, interacting in the great interdream with all of
us, only not always with any more waking awareness to it, than any of
us have. Stop and smell the roses folks. You know that every few
years, all that we were, is a bunch of memories, in the so-called
present now point of our lives. It is almost as if we only get to
live a perpetual present as follows: The nearest week seems 90% real,
the nearest three months, maybe 60%, the nearest 2 years, maybe 30%,
and going back between more than two and into the past of our lives
by 5 or 10 or 20 years, merely a few dimly lit bulbs of light that
kind of represents who we now at this present point, think that we
are and what we are about. In a bigger reality, life slides in many
other ways, as a collective mind. Our individual unique dreams here,
or lifetimes, are less than remembered; less than 0%, only connected
to us by occasional wild or extra vivid dreams, and so forth. We only
live and are US for about a year at best, and this has nothing to do
with brain age, as I perfectly remember all the events of my life,
even those intentionally blocked out by the TAWF and the WOMO-M.
People fear dying and do not even have a clue what they are fearing.
It is a process of becoming new points of endless present time
beings, with endlessly varying past fake memories behind us, or the
illusion of material life. This process is so natural, and nothing is
ever lost even though it seems to us at any present-point, that we do
not want to give up our ME-NESS. We have been doing this and living
with this alteration and moving dream, since the starting of
ourselves as one celled creatures. As our individual ME-NESS
continues rolling ever onward, we do not see that we are not the
exact person we were at 5 or 10 or 15 or 25 or 35 or 60, when we are
ten years older than any of these ages, but rather, we accept this as
a natural life process, yet what we were all throughout these
so-called 'past' times and ages, have for the most part died away,
merged and changed into the new present-point us. If this process did
not move, it would be like sitting in Solitary Prison confinement. So
dying or parts of what we are and were, leaving and merging into the
ever new present-point us, is as natural as breathing, and someday,
dying and not breathing, is no different, and is as totally harmless
and natural as looking into a blue sky and listening to a bunch of
chirping birds. I believe my old pal Dennis Snyder could kick in
fairly well right about now with his somewhat famous quotation,
“That's reality, son”. Still, this does not get into Jessica
Grant, and it especially does not get into my trying to do a music
project this year with an old 1983 song, that I wrote and copyrighted
in that same year, folks. STM inside my unconsciousness operated in
the early eighties to get me to write many strange and wild song
lyrics, and “Girl, I'll Tell you anything” was one and only one
out of many many examples. Surely, 'MY PANDORA' would seem to prove
that I must have gone back into time from right here somewhere, and
into myself, and did this song to warn me of all of this impending
doom. Well, sort of, but not exactly. STM operates in all of our
collective deepest non conscious minds on individual levels, as it is
all one collective MIND, or said more accurately, it is a realm above
this realm where brain and mind interacts in, this 5th
dimensional hyperspace. It is the 6th dimension, an actual
realm, the realm of TRUE AND TOTAL MIND. Brains are a biochemical and
biological system of taking a tiny part of this MIND, and merging
together as one, while a body is alive to power all this; and MIND in
its true form, creates our entire dimension, so hence, it makes all
of our space, and all of our time, and all of our everything. Then it
comes to interact in it. Normally, a Monopoly game does not create
itself so it can then enjoy interacting with players, but this, as
the great late Doctor Sagan said so well to the 99th
Congress of the United States one day early in the eighties, “Up's
it by one dimension”. All of my music is
one part of a two part item that is going on and has been
since the middle sixties. The other item is Sarah
Krassle. Explaining it further would merely generate a
whole lot of Steve Marcus's, and new kids coming to town, that
simply just 'do not want to hear any of this'. They aren't ready to
GET IT, and as BB John Henningsen
said it so often and so fittingly, also in the sixties, “It's just
that simple, Mark”. Well, 'I didn't really want to hear that', but
I was forced to. We cannot all be wealthy
print shop owners from 1977, or bosses who seemed to
anxiously want to hear why I acted the way that I did when they kept
trying to fix me up with girls back then, and I refused. I tried to
let McGinty in on the big secrets, and that was of course before the
commissioner took me where he took me, into secrets far greater;
still, the one who seemed the most interested in the why's behind it
all, ended up saying the same thing that Marcus said, 20 years
earlier in 1977, “I don't want to hear it”. I guess I am doomed
to wander the Earth forever, as the new kid in town. So let me
prepare my banquet feast of turkey and fish now, and continue my
endless suffering. I all ready know that the
entire world wants me to burn in hell, and are all too
fucking stupid, and unenlightened; to realize that this is precisely
what I am doing, and always was, and always will be. Pitiful,
Adam Deedee Schiff Anderton, totally and absolutely
pitiful!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
YOUTUBE VIDEO REVENGE FROM THE MOUNTAINPEN:
YOUTUBE
VIDEO LINKS, PAGES THREE AND FOUR
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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