FORT
PIERCE POLICE DEPARTMENT
FLORIDA,
USA
DEAR
POLICE DEPARTMENT, MAY 10, 2012
I
HAVE NEIGHBORS SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS AND SLAMMING DOORS
AS HARD AS THEY ARE ABLE TO, DAMAGING PROPERTY, AND SCARING PEOPLE.
YESTERDAY WAS QUIET, THIS IS ABOUT EVERY OTHER DAY NOW, IT IS A GUEST
OF THIS RESIDENT WHO LIVES ACROSS THE HALL FROM ME, AS I AM AT UNIT
#607 AT THE PHA BUILDING, AT 601 AVENUE B.
I
AM SENDING YOU THIS LETTER, AND WISH TO FILE A COMPLAINT. THIS HAS
BEEN GOING ON, DISTURBING MY PEACEFUL LIVING MODE, SCARING ME TO
DEATH, FOR MORE THAN HALF A YEAR. ACCORDING TO MY LEASE, I DO NOT
NEED TO BE PUTTING UP WITH THIS AROUND ME. MY LEASE GUARANTEES ME
FROM HAVING TO DEAL WITH THIS KIND OF ACTIVITY. I AM TOO SCARED TO
EVEN LEAVE MY APARTMENT, AND GO WHERE I NEED TO GO, WHEN THIS IS
GOING ON.
THIS
LETTER WILL BE HAND DELIEVERED TO YOU TOMORROW. I AM GETTING NO PLACE
IN TRYING TO RESOLVE THE MATTER. MY RENTAL OFFICE, AND DEBBIE
MORANTO, SAYS I MUST GO TO THE POLICE. I FEEL SHE IS PASSING THE BUCK
WITH THIS, BUT HERE I AM, AND THIS LETTER WILL BE DELIEVERED IN
PERSON TOMORROW, FRIDAY MORNING, AS I CANNOT TAKE THIS ABUSE ANY
LONGER. I AM A RESIDENT HERE, AND THIS IS ONLY A GUEST. PLEASE ASSIST
ME, ACCORDING TO STATE LAW. T.Y.
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0454
KING
NEBNOOSHOO, WHO ELSE?
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2298
SBT-DATFILE:
061412.002
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR
©
MWM/MWM/MF-2/BOM
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT
CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“MY
LIGHTNING-UFO WAS AROUND EARLIER, STRIKING
MY
HEALTH AND BOWELS, DARK SHITHOLES DAVID
ROTH,
OF WESTMONT ROSEANN DELANEY, 1989”
BEGINNING
OF THIS TRANSMISSION:
OK
peeps, here is what is happening to me as of this very time and
place, to quote my wonderful EX-Princess, the great and late Donna
Adrian Gaines Summer, of Roxberry, Boston, Massachusetts, United
States of America, Earth, Sol, Milky Way Galaxy, or BORO-MAUSAESMWG.
First, I need to thank my wonderfully terrific, and beyond astounding
and awesome, and glamorous, colorful, and shimmering gorgeous lovely
Lightning Goddess, Diana Arteemis; for coming over to visit with me,
shortly before Wake Up time for Roseann Delaney last night, just past
eight, Post Meridian (PM). Right near the time that the distant storm
began subsiding, my LIGHTNING-MILITUFORCE-UFO as I have come to call
this thing, began its first approach over at me in the distance. It
has a brilliant metal halide type of front light, and it aims it
directly at wherever I am; in this case, my window up here at
Apartment number 607 at my PHA Building of Fort Pierce, Florida. This
thing orbits around, over and over and over, and eventually leaves,
but it lets me know in no uncertain mother fucking terms, that it or
they, are indeed monitoring and watching me. This may be some real US
Military aircraft, and believe me folks, they have some unbelievable
and totally secret stuff, beyond any of your wildest dreams, and they
are the real non-dream UFO crafts, that legitimate sightings are, and
have been for many decades, all about. But still, there are the other
kind as well, the EXPLORATRONS. I can show you how to do a
meditation, and within a week; if you have the fucking courage that
is, to go beyond the fear of existing without the physical plane
world and attaching body system; and show you how you can become a
giant airship, and fly around, and do anything from crossing the
entire cosmos instantly, to the most unspeakable other things as
well. I have done all this by way of using the powerful black art
ultra secret of the Rastafarian's and the Rosicrucian's, and some
others too, called, the 'FASCITAR'. If you GOOGLE it, it might show
up, and if it is sanitized not to, such as when you try and get to
the bottom of a lot of my family truths, both behind as well as ahead
of me, in the illusion world timeline, and get distortions,
falsehoods, outright lies, and deluded gray news; that leaves out
such things as the gruesome and monstrous way that numerous folks in
my family's past, all met their fate of dying unspeakable deaths, out
of some hideous horror flick, straight from the hellish worlds of
sick Hollywood. Sorry, Great Aunt Maud Huntington Benjamin, but just
as with my 1981 Eel song, this is how I feel about stuff, and I have
the right to express an opinion, and even the mighty Michele Daniels
of RPL-1980, backs me up with HER GREAT AND OFFICIAL PERMISSION,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You
see folks, the scientists are just now catching up with my song in
1984 called, “Electroluv”. They know now that Diana is
intelligent, and merely a part of a great cosmic system. They just
have not as yet put together the hyperspace 5th dimension,
and above that, the MIND REALM of D-6; that sends down all this
“brain-equivalent-energy-pieces” for lack of saying this in
better Laboratory Scientific Nomenclature, or for short, we can just
say, in (LSN). WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One thing I love about
STM, and that is, that when I have fun editing old telephone
conversations, even the mood becomes more real than the original. In
other words, the original tapes that miraculously made it down to
Florida with me in a plastic bag inside of another plastic bag, out
of ten thousand possible tapes, included things that when words were
originally spoken, the mood and manner in the voice, seemed to not
make a lot of sense. After the editing job done for fun and YOUTUBE
posting, notice the mood when certain words are spoken, as it matches
the new way that the order of events were put together in a different
reality here in this universe. It is as if, quantum mechanically,
they never were meant NOT TO exist as they now are, edited and all,
right here, as they made little to no sense in their original
existence, believe me. When I speak about going away, you hear the
normal sadness expressed by a daughter who will miss her father until
time swings back around again. This inflection in her voice
originally, was almost Dairy Queenish, if you get my Dreeeeeeeft.
I'll tell you all folks, living in these times, on one count, is
quite fantastic. It should not have advanced this far
technologically, and does not in all the places where I did not
experience WHATEVER was really experienced that night in Raspberry
Valley on August the 15th, back in 1986. Only in the
realities where this RGG crap all happened, are we all this advanced,
with internet, cellular phones, super advanced personal computing,
super advanced microbiological knowledge, cosmological and quantum
sciences this far advanced. This is more like around 2080, in those
places where I never experienced the RGG deal, and that is all anyone
needs to know for right now, even the great O, the other great O, and
my pal, Jimmy Carter as
well!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now that all of this
is out of the way, let me add in a few things here.
The
item that someone or something, with or without any pricelines or
Shatner's, that was McGuire/Callio mind hacked away from the recent
blog that I wanted to correct, when I corrected the 2010 date to the
rightful and honest 2011 date, so as not to have TWC think I am being
dishonest, as I always play by rules and fairness, as since I am
doomed to endless poverty, take away my integrity, and then I am
totally worthless and beyond, so we will always keep things straight
and above board, totally out in the open air, huh Beve? Yes, I was
going to correct the URL linking address, as I tend to forget to add
in the word “CONTINUES” with it, when I type it freaking in each
freaking time, or some force, hmm, hmm, 'helps' me to forget it so
that the link becomes as my bank balances, quite worthless. Yes, if
you read my blogs on any non BLOGGER DOT COM website, and have
trouble reading the font, or wish to read a quality and colorized
version, that also includes videos and YOUTUBE links, and hopefully
some day, plenty more things as well, such as a direct link up to my
own personal website; here is the site you need to paste and copy to
a 'favorite' spot on your computer, or however you do it. Here is the
correct URL:
Nothing
personal against any other sites that I blog on, but the font is not
always clear. I can type on my word document with clear bold extra
black lettering, and it still runs together line to line, on my
WORDPRESS site for one example. I never would have noticed or known,
but my great pal, Mister Pedersen called and told me one day about
this, bringing it to my attention. I want to take this opportunity
now to tell him something. I was off my medication, and losing it,
and I do owe you a sincere apology. You got my music played around
the world and did some wild things for me, and I did enjoy having
that record layer, to share my daughter's humor for a second. In any
case, I was way out of line, and you never again have to speak to me,
but I was wrong, and I do sincerely apologize. My immature behavior
goes beyond medication, and I won't kid you on that. There was no
reason to bust your rocks with that silly combination of either P or
the 16th letter with repeating 16's symbolizing a lot of
letter P's. I am truly sorry for my immature and stupid behavior, and
accusations. I said this before, and I will say it again world. This
man like everyone else on Planet Earth may have faults, we all
freaking do, but he is an amazing dude who did some really cool shit
that without him, I never would be able to tell peeps that my music
was played around the world years ago and that I collected BMI
Royalty Checks, and enough to legally need to declare this on my
taxes. In addition, this dude has a talent in writing country music
that in my true honest opinion, is why he was denied a lot of
opportunity. I always said and believed, if you are too good, and
don't run into the perfect folks that can immediately push you in the
door to the music world, forget it, because the industry is basically
a mediocre accepting trade, that is very jealous of anyone that is
talented beyond the ultimate extremes. Paul fits into this category.
I suck next to this dude, and I think I can write a fairly good song,
good for my day and generation. As for being able to write marketable
material today, we can all laugh and keep laughing right up the
stairs to the 102nd story!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ANYWAY, I
FELT THIS APOLOGY NEEDED TO GET SAID, and so it did, I am sorry Paul,
and you don't ever have to forgive me or call me again, but I won't
ever act like that again, I was a real fucking jerk off, and you had
every right to call my voicemail and tell me so.
Yes
Lads, Lassies, Labbers, and Labrador Retriever Dogs,
tenacious
old me will endlessly fight this battle, with or without tap screens,
folded newspapers, time travel road trips, or prediction Gawnum
systems, or Carddecks.
My
health was messed with all day, obviously by that invisible until
nearly after the storm from last night, LUFO, or Lightning
Unidentified Flying Object. This LUFO has visited me several times
after storms here at this present address at 601 Avenue B, and many
other times as well, back up north in New Garden Green Jersey. All
day long, I am in here shitting my fucking guts out because of this
rotten twisted bunch of sicko filthy puss bags from the
WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE.
Today's
assault on me from this twisted disease was my noisy shit head
neighbors out in the hallway, in some collaboration together, as well
as my health with a nasty shit and queezy all over feeling, general
attack. Maybe if Diana had not come along with her beautiful
lightning, I may have suffered a total GENERAL BREAKDOWN, even though
I am nowhere near the mysterious MSW (Musicians Sike Ward). The only
location of this place that I am aware of is CYBERSPACE, YOUTUBE,
KING NEBNOOSHOO CHANNEL. If you out here can find a real one, well,
that is further proof of Quantum Physics, in action. Maybe after you
do find it, you will reach the end of the summer time, and then be
ready to sing the new song up there as well, called, “You'll Be
Crossing Over”, relax distant cuzz, like I told another distant
cuzz named Don, I am all teared up about not having Thanxgiving
dinners with you any more, BOO-HOO-HOO-HOO, jerk off.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Well
folks, let me post up and relax before I crash into freaking bloody
shoe bed, without my mace cans, or 1802 Robin Hill, or any other
transdimensional phenomenon, such as Egg Harbor schools and recurring
dreams; and unfathomable daughters. Thank you for all you did Mister
Jockamini, or however you spell that wild name of yours, back in
1968, BRAHHHHH. On one count, it was not hard to get onto SSD between
you and Donna combined, but wow, I lost a great child, because of the
stigma reality. Well, you said it all 95 repairman Bobby Vandegrift.
What a fucking trade off, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BYE-BYE,
chall!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*****ENDING
OF THIS TRANSMISSION*****
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0554
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2295
SEND-BACK-TEXT
DATFILE: 091212.555.555555
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME
MORIANITY
PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR (BSNF):
“NASTY
ASS AIR SIEGE ON THIS POST NINE-ELEVEN DAY”
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2012
©
MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN/THE BLOGS OF
MOUNTAINPEN-'BOM'-MORIANITY-FOUNDATION-2
©
URL ADDRESSES OF: DRUNKENHIVE, MOUNTAINPEN,
THEANSWERISTHEQYUESTIONCONTINUES-2006-2012
THIS
IS ALL SWORN TESTIMONY, GRAND JURY READY, FOR
TRANSFER
ABAILABILITY AT ANY TIME, SUBJECT TO FULL
POWER
OF THE OATH, TAKEN VOLUNTARILY AS TOTAL
TRUTH
BY ME, I SO SWEAR, UNDER FLAG, AND MY GODDESS AND YOURS AS WELL; THE
ALL MIGHTY SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE; SO LYING IN ANY WAY ON THIS
BLOG, CONSTITUTES PERJURY, LIBEL, AND SLANDER PENALTIES.
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
I
am under heavy aerial artillery fire today. I left the apartment
around half past eleven this morning for some local errands, and no
sooner got out beyond my building door, and out into the parking area
towards my vehicle; when a loud legal height flying small private
airplane, flew slowly over me directly; and when I went to glance up
at it ahead of me and slightly to my right, what was also right to
the left of the airplane, but a thumb in the ass small CHEMTRAIL?,
an old WOMO trick that they love to use to tease me with. Now many
folks up on the YOUTUBE talk about the chemtrails, but none of them
are the reason why this entire thing is all happening, only me; and
none of them can claim to be stalked personally by them; only me,
TFOMC, a code I'm quite sure that the great government, and a lot of
good hackers can break. I also know another fact of life, lovely
survivor Blair blond, and that is this peeps. I am dealing with TIME
TRAVELERS. NICK CANNON IS ONLY ONE OF THEM. They knew I was trying to
do something really big, and are doing everything within their god
dam power to fucking stop me, as always, this is not yesterdays news
folks, this is a newspaper that goes straight back into the mother
fucking nineteen-sixties. None of this is new to me. Still, I only
came to learn all this on the level that I understand things now,
relatively recently, YO. What I ever did to these mother fucking
diseased twisted farts, is so beyond totally inconceivable and
unfathomable, that a million Einstein's would go completely mentally
broke, if they all tried together figuring out just exactly what and
why all of this is going on around me, and has been all of these
fucking many years since the middle sixties,
BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Think rationally about it, I would
have to be Hitler, somehow frozen and suspended and brought into a
brand new life and into a kid just out of his toddler years
practically, then maybe, JUST FUCKING ASS MAYBE, this might make some
sense, but we all know that this is not rational thought. But what is
fucking cunt rational thought, good folks? If any of you are bold and
totally audacious enough to tell me that you can really honestly tell
me the answer, well, and this goes double triple for any
psychiatrists out here, you have just graduated to the BEYOND DONALD
TRUMP EGOCENTRICS CLUB OF PLANET EARTH , or the (BDTECPE).
Now
folks, I don't have time for a long blog, there is a lot of shit for
me to take care of, but the powerful point today is that I am doing
everything and whatever is within my human possibility to do; to get
my song called, what else, DUHHHH, “YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER” © 1983-2012, yes MY HUMAN
POSSIBILITY, and I am not GOD, nor am I a balloon, or a movie
theater, or a rookie police officer; or an enjoyer of being messed
with, by POWERFUL AWESOME TYPE-3 EXPLORATRONS. Say what, George
Jefferson Silverhands? EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS!!!!
I
DON'T LIKE THIS FUCKING BULL SHIT ONE LITTLE STINKIN TINY ROTTEN ASS
BIT, FOLKS.
MAGNESONIC------MMMMMMMMMMMMMM-------On
my electronic thought wave voice print (ETWVP) go to all general and
coded general or (special) orders, go to all technologies, Zero
Dimensional and Atomic Duplicational, and scan all my enemies in the
powerful ASTRAL/PHYSICAL WOMO SYSTEM, throughout time, hyperspace,
Astrality, and the void infinity itself, from where your circuitry
was all created from. Totally wipe out and destroy all persons
hurting me, assaulting me, robbing and raping me, brutally attacking
me, preventing me and blocking me from my goddess given musical
rights; and who have taken everything away from me, and are laughing
at me now; just as the June 1969 song foretold by mere fucking days.
All orders and tecks, Magnesonic. Your pull-gain is set now to 11.8
(infinity) so you are maxed out, and all controls against your gain,
are also at maximum power. MMMMMMMMM. G-901, CG-18, under G-1133,
AND---- S-----T-----O-----P!!!!!!!
Well
LADS, LASSIES, LABBERS, and LAB-DOGS, don't be shocked if some major
earthquakes and storms don't start, as well as some bad crashes up in
the sky. These pricks have really been asking for it with me, and
now, BOOM, they will get it. I knew when I was with those lovely teen
babes in that movie theater last night, with the balloons, and I was
a rookie policeman investigating a crime; things would be real bad
today, and “WOW”, I always
know, right Mister President's????????????? Really, am I right, or
wrong, you tell me; and yes, those never ending JB initials, as with
others, right Victoria and Sarah Frankenstein????????????
I
will not lie, this is a SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY. I JUST GOT OFF THE
PHONE WITH SOMEONE, IT IS NOBODY'S BUSINESS, THINGS ARE VERY FUCKING
BAD FOR ME, THIS IS A HORRIBLE MOTHER FUCKING BAD SUPER ROTTEN
FUCKING BOTBAR CHRISTLESS GODLESS DAY, ONE OF THE WORST DAYS IN FACT
IN DECADES, AND THE DOW JONES STOCK MARKET, should as a result, race
up close to 800 fucking points, who knows, maybe even fucking more?
END
TRANSMISSION:
111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
Things
are real bad, and no thanks to you, Jane sleaze weeds disease.
BYE-BYE-BIRDIE
SCUMS.
EVERYTHING
ON THESE BLOGS ARE COPYRIGHT MWM.
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555
SUPPLEMENTAL
ENTRY
STARTING
OF BLOG:
Now
that I have calmed down a little bit folks, since an extremely
horrendous and BOTBAR non Paul Simon day; I will try and calmly
reconstruct a few things that earlier may have seen even for me, a
bit in gibberish.
Two
of the greatest things talked about in my blogs as the MOUNTAINPEN or
in MORIANITY, you may think of, as either EXPLORATRONS, or AUGUST
15TH OF 1986. You would be within a good thinking pattern to make
that selection, but in truth, a hidden cosmic agenda called,
REALITY-3 is the real biggest deal in my horrific and sub-vampiric
life and cursed existence as the chosen HUNTINGTON. Reality-3 is not
something that has ever been totally rationally figured out by me, so
I will not pretend for a second that in any way, shape, or form, it
has been, merely I'll remind my readers that it has to do with the
theory that perhaps, and only perhaps, one larger truth and ongoing
nightmare is causing both of my PARALLEL-EVENT situations, of one-me
being up or down, and two-'THEY' being winners or losers in a very
strange trilogy of events, these being the Dow Jones, the
Philadelphia Phillies, and the Philadelphia Flyers. All I can say in
good conscience, is that I cannot prove satisfactorily no matter how
hard I have tried for more than twenty-six years now; whether there
is or is not, a REALITY-3, or whether just the parallel event itself,
IS EVERYTHING, and why it all began on one exact night in the summer
of 1986; also remains a total elusive mystery. Still, one fact
remains undisputed. Since this hell started around me in 1986, only
the year of 1994 seemed to be magical. It totally cut me a break.
Things, big things started to go my way in almost unfathomable ways.
Why? Because the Baseball Clubs went on strike, so there was no
Phillies season. Then in the autumn, the HOCKEY CLUBS went on strike,
so DUH, there was no Flyers Season, only there was, a small one, as
early in 1995, when the magical year of 1994 ended, a short hockey
season began, causing a three year doubling of the Dow Jones stock
market, and basically, the end of my life, via the search for the
missing teenager of my past; the most inconceivable nightmare to ever
rear its ugly head in all of recorded history. Now this had to get
out of the way in order to lay a foundation about the true major
significance and surreal importance, of this wild trilogy and
parallel event nightmare in my life that yes, all started when the
rest of the hell started, on 15 August, 1986. There just is no
getting around the fact that something more powerful and strange than
all of the combined so-called UFO-abductions all put together,
happened to one person at one exact point in history, ME, and on this
date. Everything, whether or not a bigger REALITY-3 is behind it or
not; seems to revolve around an 'inescapable' reality, 'PARALLEL
EVENT', without any 1983 or 1997 tunes, from any members
of this great and awesome Carpenter family of 3000 years+. Now, some
few real follower geniuses know why certain unnamed people told me to
“PUT THAT ON TOP”, Commander Pablo, so check that off,
KIRKWHALES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Whenever I have a major
extra normal vivid dreaming experience, the next day is always MAJOR
MESSED UP, going all the way back even to the year of miracles for
me, the great 1994, and the interaction with the SUNRAM DISTANCE
ELIMINATION CHAMBER MACHINE, that autumn, and then on the way to
Haddonwood later in the day, despite major overcast skies, being
pulverized and pummeled by MY WOMO MILITUFORCE ENEMIES. I am not
going to lie and tell you that again today, was not about the song,
“YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER”, as
it was. 'THEY' just won't let me put any money together so that I can
go over to the Avalon Studio, and pick up my CD, and post the song
onto my YOUTUBE CHANNEL. I never ever EVER NEVER saw the FORCES this
strong against something in my entire @$^&^$%E#@!@%$!!@%!*)&_$*^$*
LIFE!!!!!!!!!!! This is why, I will now post up the lyrics to the
song; and it is copyrighted, because the blog is copyrighted, and I
fully legally intend to make it official someday with a check to the
Library of Congress, just not today, because THEY won't allow me to
get a penny!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM BEING TOTALLY
OBSTRUCTED AND PREVENTED AND STOPPED FROM DOING THIS, AND I KNOW IT,
AND FEEL IT LIKE I WOULD FEEL THE FORCE OF A SKYSCRAPER FALLING DOWN
ON ME, SHOULD THAT BE THE CASE. This may be an inescapable force all
right, but the forces against me will not escape this blog going up
onto the internet on an early Thursday morning, that will at least
contain the words to this tune, that so much energy and power is
being expended from somewhere, to obstruct and halt. All the Doctors,
Lab Technicians, sore throats, and swollen lymph glands on the
planet, are not going to stop me from posting these lyrics, ON THIS
BLOG, TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Before
we do the posting of the lyrics of the song written by me in 1983 and
redone with these words in 2012, that is now called,
“YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER”,
let
me tell my 'BLOGAUD' that I of course, asked the great cosmic meow
king kitty cat, WHY THIS DAY WAS SO HORRIBLE, and worse than 99.99%
of my days over the past 25-30 years, and GAWKY
GAUKAUK
answered me with the PCN-312.
Let me tell you the match-list that I have in my GAWNUM BOOK for
PRIVATE
COSMICODED NUMBER (PCN) 312.
These are:
PAUL
PEDERSEN----CRY----TAP----KRASSLEVILLE----MASS
MURDERER----MAN----TAG----RPL----TAPE RECORDER----ATLANTIC CITY
MUNICIPAL UTILITIES AUTHORITY----
A
god dam retard can read into these cosmic clues, despite my not yet
telling any of you the details of my monster ass day. So let me do
that, and then after that; let us see if the world is still spinning
around by this time tomorrow, after I print these words, that
somebody is fighting against with strength and power that defies and
eludes my frail tiny imagination, maxed out times a vigintillion
power exponents of a googalplex. Before I do anything, I must remind
my newer readers, how to work a GAWNUM. You can most likely GOOGLE it
up, but for the lazier folks who refuse to do it, because I am just
not that important, then I will tell them just a little bit of it
quickly. All letters have an order in the alphabet. A is 1. B is 2. C
is 3. D is 4. This goes all the way to Z is 26. There are 81 GAWNUM
ROOT NUMBERS. To find them, you need two things. First, how many
letters are there in the item, and second, what is the total amount
of letter value? Let us use the three combined words for example, of
the song that seemingly started all of this nightmare for me, back in
August of 1986, “REAL GOOD GIRL”. There are a total of 12 letters
in this title. If you add up the value of all of these twelve
letters, 18-5-1-12-7-15-15-4-7-9-18-12, we get the number 123. Don't
die on me yet, my wonderful fence beckoning strobe-light. Now as with
all of numerological truth, any number that has more than one digit,
is added up until it only has one digit, and there are only nine, and
no zero will exist if you perform this task. So the first number of a
GAWNUM ROOT is your amount of letters, so with the song “REAL GOOD
GIRL”, we have a 12. The second number of a GAWNUM ROOT is your
total letter value, so with the song “REAL GOOD GIRL”, we have a
123. So the first number is a 12, and the second number is a 123.
Adding these up until it is only one digit, this becomes a 3 and a 6.
So the GAWNUM ROOT of the three words, 'REAL GOOD GIRL' is 36. Now
the third digit in a PCN is always the difference between the larger
and the smaller numbers in the Gawnum Root Number, so 6-3=3. So the
GAWNUM ROOT '36' is equal to PCN-363. You always use the alphabet of
the country that you were legally born in, don't start trouble Mister
Trump. Now with our names, it is always the first name and the last
name, no initials or other in-between names, always merely the
Christian name and the Sir name, nothing else. Now to see if any two
things have Gawnum Compatibility or (GC), you add the two PCN's up,
and get a PCNT, the 'T' is TOTAL. If at least one digit exists in the
PCNT, that is in both of the numbers above it making up that sum
total, then the two items are GC, and if not, then they are not GC.
This does not reflect a positive or a negative reality, but merely
that a potential cosmic compatibility exists, or does not exist, for
all of the many virtually countless realities; that fit into 81 root
number systems from 11-99 with no zeros. The only zeros that exist in
the GAWNUM, are in the third digit when both of the GAWNUM ROOT
DIGITS are the same, hence GR-44, becomes PCN-440, and GR-77, becomes
PCN-770, and so forth. Only nine out of the eighty-one roots produce
a zero. When you wish to ask a question, you can think silently about
your question, while doing any of several things with playing cards
or dice or even large colored blocks. Keeping it simple for now, take
an ordinary deck of playing cards and remove all cards except for ace
through nine of the four suits. You will be left with a total of 36
cards. Shuffle well. As you begin to randomly just pick a card out,
think of just your question and do not let any other thoughts creep
into your mind. Write down the first GAWNUM ROOT DIGIT after your
first pick, reinsert the card, repeat the shuffle, rethink the
question, and begin to select another card at total random. Then
write that down. As with me tonight, I asked why my horrible day
happened today, and my first pick was a 3, and my second pick was an
ace or 1. The ROOT was 31, so the PCN was 312. You can take a million
things that have meaning and significance to you in your own personal
life and create your own match list book on all 81 of the roots, or
all 81 Private Cosmicoded Numbers, (PCN's). There are other things to
learn such as branchcodes, and more; but this will suffice for now,
as an updated reexplained 'HOW TO' for operating the GAWNUM in you
personal lives. Don't blame me if you die of shock, as you develop
skill in working this. You can eventually potentially reach
omniscience. But it is a skill, working the GAWNUM, and will not be
perfected overnight, not even by an Einstein. Even the great master,
Beethoven; practiced a lot, as did all great musical masters, and
music professionals know these truths. As I speak, and it has been
going on for some time, my ass wipe nabes are in and out a lot with
hall talking and doors, and it is close to one in the morning. Living
poor is fun, is it not my 99ers? I wouldn't care, if it were not for
the fact that I have been robbed over and over, especially of much of
my intellectual property over the past 35 years or more. People
really are, just as Lex Loo Thor said, on the great original
Superman movie; “NO DAM GOOD”. There are always those treasured
few, praise the Goddess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah world, when I see a
man deliver his baby, I'll believe the creator force is male in
gender, and not until; there is no logic to that nonsense. FEMALES
are the CREATORS, it is a biological self evident truth, and outright
fact. Speaking of this truth folks, there are complex truths about
the multiverse or hyperspace. The scientific community has a billion
theories, and they have never experimented with any of it in the real
world, in the ways that I have; yet they remain the great EXPERTS,
and I am the forever unknown ass hole who doesn't have a clue what he
is talking about. Fine. Cool. 'Whatever', old pal, Bob Andrews, back
in 1975. If we WHATEVER advance time up to 1983, some one or some
thing, Captain Shatner Priceline, was driving me beyond insane, and
only the mighty AT&T Corporation knows these truths, and the CIA
and NSA, I would suspect as well. Not even corporate giants can
keep secrets as big as goddess's numerous secret incarnations, from
these federal giants, that basically are sort of one and the same
thing with the fortune-whatever it really is, and for short, I simply
call this, the WOMO. It is why all of this happened. No one else ever
used that machine built by the IMM. It never caught on, yet I used
it, and it changed my entire life forever. It is why my mother and I
had many health related issues of paranormal and very strange
onslaughts of medical symptoms not recognizable to the accepted time
and its medical community, and on I could go for a week with this
topic. If I told the story in the way that Terry from Egg Harbor
would like it told, I would probably be in a building that would be
burned to the ground before the dawn comes later on. Stranger things
have happened, of course, as I do not seem to be able to be effected
by what mortals call DEATH. I seem to keep waking up from what I
thought was the end, only to find out it was a dream. This has
happened way too many times for me not to know that this is being
done by way of a future technology called, LTDDT, Laser Trace
Distance Delay Technology. In any event, Doctor Carey; I hope you
will not hate me too much for printing the words that I do honestly
believe, you are consciously, or maybe unconsciously, preventing me
from being able to display the entire song in a public arena. There
is no way around explaining that machine, or those endlessly
recurring 'dreams' of me and Egg Harbor City, all throughout my life
from the days I worked at the RPL Studio, until a few years before I
met the great TAWF, or 'THAT FAMILY', as I used to call them even
back as far as the great seventy year itself, from Ventnor, New
Jersey, USAESMWG. Well we could type on forever and not tell the
story as it can never all be properly told. But those in the know
will read the song lyrics, and they will know what they need to know.
I had no way of engineering all of this. Only the All Mighty
Sarah-Stacey Krassle Herself, could have done all of this. I know
that she was here on Tennessee Avenue as SARAH for about 15 years.
Then she popped out of existence, just as mysteriously as she popped
into it. Now, the rest of all of Morianity, is the attempt by me,
Mountainpen, to connect the greatest and most incredible dots in all
of human history, so may the heavens pity me if I am wrong?
COPYRIGHT
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2012, REWRITE FROM 1983 ALSO COPYRIGHTED UNDER TITLE
THEN, “GIRL, I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING”, NOW UNDER REWRITE TITLE OF
“YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER”
VERSE
ONE
I'm
so very happy for you, pales of fish so fresh and new
Let
me ask you really nicely, could you spare us just a few
Oh
my wife and kids are starving, could you help us make a stew
We're
down and out, and we will even go to work for you
You
seem to have about a dozen giant pales or two
I
am so weak and faint and do not wanna' be so blue
While
we slept inside the dunes, somebody stole my shoe
Oh
please kind sir, just take some pity, let us work for you
We'll
help in any way we can, and be your loyal crew
But
greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
And
I'm not giving any freaking fish away
VERSE
TWO
So
when you add your salty tears directly in the sea
And
when you're done your song of woe, that you have sung to me
Just
take your wife and kids, and jump right off this big jetty
And
right into the undertow, and stop annoying me
And
talking on and on and on, and bothering my fish
You
loud annoying bleeding hearts, that beg and cry and bitch
I
have lots of work to do, and buckets must be filled
So
either leave this jetty now, or someone might be killed
Guys
like me must catch our fish, like farmers fields get tilled
People
say I'm cold and cruel, on every single day
But
I have got a lot of freaking bills to pay
So
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
THREE
They
say the greatest mother lies there out beyond the sand
And
mothers can get angry when their kids are out of hand
Storms
blow out of nowhere and, a lot of folks have died
The
sea can give and take away, while many tears get cried
And
on one very special day, a greedy man was drowned
Ignoring
waves that swallowed rocks with heavy pounding sound
Just
another bucket and, then he'll have caught his fill
A
lot of daring fishermen forget the sea can kill
The
king fish of the jetty, just was never seen again
Yet
locals claim the winds still howl these words from fisher Ben
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
So
yes I have a lot of freaking bills to pay
And
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
FOUR
You'll
be crossing over, later wishing you'd been nicer
You'll
be crossing over, through the quantum waving splicer
You'll
be crossing over, hearing all the trash they're talking
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll have to keep on walking
You'll
be crossing over, watching all the others eating
Feasts
with banquet tables, where the fish keep on repeating
Forever
seeing many fish, but never on your plate
You
had your time back in the sun before you sealed your fate
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll be a lonesome rover
Forever
doomed to hear the words you always used to say
That
you've been working hard out in the sun all day
Oh
yes we knew you had your freaking bills to pay
So
you're not giving any of your fish away
END
OF SONG.
Yes
people, this will be a very interesting next few days. Of course this
is merely print, and we are not so blessed with Doctor Carey and her
heavenly voice, to do the song here on this blog. But then, that
seems to be what things have been about now for a while, maybe for
nearly thirty years. Where are you when I need you STEVE HAWKING and
DOCTOR CARL SAGAN????????????????????
ENDING
OF BWOG,
WHAAAAAAABBIT.
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0556
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2295
SBT-DATFILE:
091312.510
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BSNF:
“TIMES 10 TRILLION GINA, I TOLD YOU SWEETIE”
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2012
VOLUNTARILY
SWORN LEGAL OATH OF TOTAL TRUTH
WITH
ALL ATTACHED MAXIMUM PENALTIES
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
There
are several topics that I will list right here at the heading of this
blog, so I can be sure that my dementia does not make me forget to
write it all in. First, I TOLD YOU THAT THE DOW JONES WOULD FLY UP TO
ALL TIME RECORD HIGHS, EXACTLY AS IT IS DOING, AS A RESULT OF MY
FAILURE TO BE ABLE TO COPYRIGHT AND POST UP MY SONG CALLED, 'YBCO', A
REWRITE OF AN OLD 1983 SONG. This is 2 straight Thursday's now where
the DOW JONES shot up more than 200 solid points, and is red hot
bullish and flying up on the week, and has not seen a down week in
months, despite RECORD HIGH GASOLINE PRICES, LITTLE 99ERS DOING
TERRIBLY, SUPER HIGH NATIONAL UNEMPLOYMENT, and many other normal
events that all combined, all through most of the 20th century, would
force the Dow Jones to seriously drop, or at least, never climb up
into an absurd rallying bull market that out roars the freight
trains. It is over 13 and a half K points now, just about at all time
record highs, I told all of you this would happen, and I never get
one mother fucking ounce of credit ever, for being right, I only get
used or scoffed at, by this sick diseased turd chewing world of total
ingrates, such as the shit eating Overschmidt Brothers, from the
early nineteen-nineties. I'll also be discussing a child molester
named Thomas J. Reale from Somers Point, New Jersey. As my last blog
indicated, what he did to me was inexcusable, and he has no remorse
about it to this day; the mother fucking cunt lapping filthy diseased
twisted ass bastard. Still, those in the Criminal Justice Business,
will tell us all that these type of folks are always repeat
offenders, yet his record is totally clean as though I am accusing an
innocent man, and he is far from that. So one of two things is going
on with this 1970 bullshit between him and me. Either he has
sufficient power to do what he pleases and even goes beyond the realm
of Michael Jackson, as far as being above the legal system, and never
answering for anything, or else; it really was just me that he did
this to, and for no other possible reason, than obtaining my semen,
and my family DNA, even way back then; for the gods only know what
demonic and twisted purposes and motives. As for the Dow Jones,
whenever my life is WAY DOWN, it is always WAY UP, this has been a
totally real and inescapable parallel-event, ever since this
nightmare hell all began for me on yes, you know it,
blah-blah---blah-bee-blah. I refuse to even print that monster ass
date in my history for a while, I am tired of being nauseated by just
seeing it in print over and mother fucking over again. The third
thing I will be talking about on this blog, is my basic day in
detail, back on yesterday; that I totally forgot to talk about on my
last blog that did absolutely no mother fucking cunt good whatsoever,
in my futile fucking attempt to fight this FORCE that I call the WOMO
MILITUFORCE. For the past five minutes since just shy of half past
six this evening, my UNKNOWN CALLER HARASSMENT has begun. It is
legal, so long as it is between 8 AM and 9 PM, my local time, and I
am hoping they break the rule, as then I am within legal rights to
tell them they are not permitted to call me from any number again
ever. This is the creditor laws as I understand them, and how they
effect Florida residents such as myself, YO. Calls always begin when
I make a call and ask someone on their voicemail to please return my
call, and then it starts immediately, almost to block as it does many
times, the calls that I need to get. This also, is tapping,
interfering with my general life; and also, I totally know that this
is fully completely illegal collection tactics, for a creditor to
use, but they do it; and they get mother fucking cunt lapping totally
away with it. They cause me to miss my important call backs time and
time and fucking cock sucking time again. They are without shame or
conscience. They are bottom feeder capitalist swine garbage chewing
pigs. This is putting things extremely politely. So let us get down
to the three things that this blog will get into, shall we folks, as
I approach a BOTBAR TIMES TWO DAY?
Since
my day yesterday was what the enemies of the WOMO-MILITUFORCE managed
to make me forget to discuss, through powerful tools known on the
ASTRAL PLANE, by this horrific monstrous LAMBRIGG CULT; as the
PAWM-PIE-ETTOS. Making people forget is way beyond normal aging, or
dementia, or mild on-sought Alzheimer Disease. I know that my brain
is not as dead as it appears to be despite decades of unspeakable
cruelty and punishment by this twisted rubbish eating group of evil
twat lickers. Too many times, other people around me were also picked
on in like manner, such as citing the Tennessee Avenue example in
Atlantic City. When I was effected and made to totally have the name
of CALLIO blocked out of my mind
on that street on February 7th of 1997, the same thing
happened again when I was with Ed Lynch at the very same spot, right
there just yards outside and away from the Robert McGuire owned
Pittsburgh Hotel. This time when I was with Ed, we even caught on
tape that things had happened to us that we had no memory of
witnessing, done to us by fat Irish bastard McGuire the terrorist
bully of the family of the TAWF. We were legally taking photographs
as any tourist is permitted to do at any resort city such as Atlantic
City, for my website, called the MORIANITY-FOUNDATION, and McGuire
injured both us as well as destroyed my freaking only automobile. It
is all in the photo, yet we remember nothing of this. I hope someday,
my kid realizes that I have no other motives in all of this, than to
tell her what horrible ass distant cousins she has, and what they did
to me for decades with no good cause whatsoever, and to her as well,
as a child. She knows it, and that fat bitch O knows it too.
Naturally, the Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office, has managed to
very cleverly abscond the website through no laws broken by me, but
they have the MF-2 Website CD in their possession, and will not
release it ever to me, even though I legally paid Eddie my agreed
upon price with him, of 150 clams. Eddie and I are not part of the
greedy fisherman club of Atlantic City, and surrounding areas of this
globe, headquartered in Manhattan at Broad and Wall Streets, sir ALEX
JONES, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
yesterday was as I told on the other blog, a very horrible fucking
day. I have come to be certain however, that I am not permitted to
post or copyright my own rewritten song, not with the harmony tracks
digitally sampled from my old 1984 telephone conversation with the
great transdimensional and butterfly elusive, Doctor Lymphglands
Carey. Speaking of more memory loss, a total wipe out of my memories
are also the result of going to see that great throat specialists in
Pennsylvania, near the area of the intersecting roads of Academy Road
and Grant Avenue. I have clear memories of many things all throughout
many times before and after this exact trip out to this wild and
elusive doctor whom seems to be able to take the shape of a middle
aged male when so desired, and then revert back to the age of
fourteen as a lovely curly haired teen girl. But this is all old
news, for those who studied and read old blogs in 2006 and 2007,
about the appearance at my Haddonfield, New Jersey school, of a
strange 22 year old goddess with long hair, very tall, very
physically strong, and named “SARAH”, who also could and did,
come into my DREAMS, and then future events would follow the dreams,
keeping the conversation in the normal forward-mortal time and event
flow, as my readers insist on in order to better comprehend my
message. Anyway, the Great Doctor told my mother and I quote, “That's
not his problem”, when he called her at her office after I had
left, and as my mom tells the story, she asked him why her son cannot
breathe or swallow and is in agony and seemingly chocking to death.
Well then Doctor McDonald Lifedays, what is my problem, oh wise
swami, as my mom never got that answered, to hear her tell it? She
just promised to follow up, and then everyone sort of just as usual
with me, VANISHED, as though through a dam time warp or something,
Huh Mister Orson Water Wells of the ACMUA. Shame on Dancer Shirley
Glands, and you too Spell Checker, for not recognizing the name of
'ORSON'. Now for yesterday. First, I made a big error in the middle
of July. I did a recording project, and brought my samples to a great
place, and a fabulous job was done on my song, but on credit. Nothing
can leave the studio until the bill is paid, not through uploads or
as CD product. That is only fair. I would pay it within a year if I
had to hold up a freaking bank as the goddess is my witness, but that
is not a very nice thing to say. Still, I have tried to renegotiate
and refinance my car, change cars, do all manner of things to lessen
monthly payments so I can at least save more towards the full amount
of my incurred studio bill, and not one thing works, it has all been
stopped and blocked. So I had the bright Patty Parsons idea yesterday
to ask for my old job back, up at the 25th Street Harvest,
and they wanted me back. The only one who wanted me out was big red,
or Jessica Grant, as she hated me from day number one, for reasons
only she knows. She is now working in a newly opened store further to
the south, so they welcomed me back yesterday with open arms. But
when I went to my AARP people who actually pay me as the work as far
as HARVEST goes has me as a volunteer, this is a charitable
organization, and many folks do hours there, sent there by courts and
judges, housing places like my building and many other things cause
folks to need to volunteer their services there, in some form of a
community service to meet an hourly and monthly requirement. My
program had me as a volunteer, but paid through a stipend system of
this AARP program, headquartered on E street, in good old wonderful
Washington, DOC, (District Of Columbia). In any case, my AARP bosses
told me I am not allowed to go back to any site where I came from,
and even though others were fired and came back, it was not people
from my particular AARP Program, under strict rules and guidelines
under President Obama and his Stimulus Package System. Then there was
a deal with an advertiser on cable television, and even more
crookedness, that if I was doing it, I would be jailed for years. It
is called DRIVE FOR 99. They say
on the ad, and I have the fucking videotape, 99 clams down, and 99 a
month, no matter what your credit is. But when they call you back,
the story totally changes, to only excellent credit gives you those
great numbers, so in other words, it is just another pile of huge
fucking liquid pig shit, at the speed of fucking light cubed.
Somebody, somewhere, something, Shatner old boy, just is making major
fucking sure, that I cannot get my music project, and this is why
that DOW is going up and up and up, straight to the stars in the
mother fucking cunt ass heavens, and is not looking back. Just watch
folks, 300 points up every week from now through the next 6 months,
MARK MY WORDS, it will be 40,000 points in a couple of years or less,
just like in 1995-1997 when the WOMO wiped me out, after my magical
1994 fucking year had ended; and things all turned to shit at the
speed of dick licking exploratrons. There are no jobs anywhere around
this hell hole area where this rotten family has sent me into exile,
knowing I would run here if they just played their cards perfectly as
they did, back in 2007-2009. Ann King sits up there in luxury, in
Hammonton, with my fucking 40 inch television, and I am down here
with a rotten little 20 inch piece of shit. They stole my life, my
daughter, my property, my soul. Don't be surprised if this entire
world blows the fuck out of its orbit in just a few months, as I
intend to do everything in my mother fucking power to bring about the
MAYAN PREDICTIONS, since you all want me dead and wiped out so much,
and have declared me a casualty of your sick war. When this solar
system blows soon, you will all die, until I decide to start dreaming
shit all over again, if I ever decide, and I may not; you sick mother
fuckers.
As
for child molester Thomas J. Reale, anyone who can read what this
blog says, and does not at least wonder about stuff now, taking this
into account along with 36th Avenue, all the wild
exploratronic visitations and time games, and my kidnapping into
their cult fold, and so much more; then you know what, the world is
hopelessly ignorant, and needs to just go BOOM in late December, and
it may just be doing exactly that, LADS, LASSIES, LABBERS, AND
LAB-DOGS!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION FOLKS: NO MOOD FOR WABBITS TODAY.
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0557
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2294
SBT
DATFILE: 091412.497
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR (BSNF):
“SOON
TO ARRIVE, EVEN GREATER ADULT-PLAYGROUND
RAGE,
THAN WE GENERATED BACK IN GOOD OLD 2008”
©
2006-2012, ALL BLOGGING INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY
OF
MARK WAYNE MOHR/MOUNTAINPEN/MORIANITY
VOLUNTARILY
SWORM OATH, TAKEN BY ME ON MY BLOGS, OFFICIALLY MAKING THEM SUBJECT
TO FULL PENALTIES OF PERJURY, LIBEL, SLANDER, AND ALL OTHER RELATED
CHARGES, SHOULD THESE WORDS BE INTENTIONAL LIES OR UNTRUTHS OF ANY
KIND, EVEN BY MAJOR ADDITIONS, DELETIONS, OR 'DIRECT TOLD AS FACTS,
WHEN NOT'; PRINTINGS BY MARK WAYNE MOHR. SHOULD I SAY SOMEONE DID OR
TOLD ME SOMETHING; THAT ITEM MAY BE LESS THAN A TRUTH, BUT WHEN I SAY
THAT A PERSON TOLD ME, THAT IS THE TRUTH BEING CLAIMED HEREIN. I
SWEAR THESE OATHS, HERE AND AT OTHER SPOTS ON MY MANY BLOGS; UNDER
THE FLAG OF MY COUNTRY, THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, FOUNDED BY MY
OWN FAMILY AND THEIR FRIENDS A WHILE BACK; AND ALSO SWORN BY MY ALL
MIGHTY GREAT TEEN-QUEEN GODDESS, “SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE
KRASSLE”.
BEGINNING
OF THIS BLOG TRANSMISSION FOLKS:
When
I started early in June of 2010, at the Harvest job, through the
Federal Stimulus Program and the AARP Foundation, out of the Port
Saint Lucie, Florida, Office; some things happened that were not all
blogged. The reason was simple. Time was and is, limited, and there
were just too many incredible things going down all around me, as
they always seem to be as the CHOSEN HUNTINGTON, and under this
horrific HUNTINGTON CURSE, that Cousin Donald in his blissful
ignorance, used to, and maybe still does; refer to as the MASON
CURSE. Mason and Eastman lineages joined up with the great Huntington
family, but it was the Huntington family who came directly from the
Stuart line, and before that, the Carpenter line; back to the Lord or
(SAR) Jesus himself, and the great King David of the Judah Tribe,
even before Him. As for returning to the topic at hand about middle
2010, if you archive back in this area through my many blogs, at the
GOOGLE OWNED, URL ADDRESS of: http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
folks, you'll unmistakably see that so many powerful things and
truths all connect into the past fifty years of my hellish nightmare
life, and started re-centering up here in Florida after about a half
year of residency down here at the time I left the White City section
of the great Fort Pierce, Florida, for the 26th Street
Hood, and the Harvest job, through and via the AARP. There were
several huge things happening. Also there was a merging of holograms,
proving to me that even though the movie of the nineties called, “The
Truman Story”, and a great movie shall I add, and a 'must get' for
my MORIANS; BUT YES, THAT EVEN THOUGH I PROVED TO MYSELF THAT THE
MOVIE WAS NOT REALLY TOTALLY A REALITY FOR ME, AS I WAS INDEED
STARTING TO WONDER IF I COULD EVEN REACH FLORIDA, AND JUST HOW REAL
FLORIDA WAS FOR ME, SHOULD I TRY AND GO THERE MYSELF; A MAJOR QUANTUM
DYNAMIC EQUATION; but all though I did get here, and come to indeed
reside here; part of the Truman Story movie, was indeed totally a
reality, for me anyway. All of a sudden, in a little shit hole 1300
miles from home, is an entire bunch of folks all grouped together,
from many of the places in my own past life, such as in New Jersey,
and even Hammonton itself, and Suffolk County, New York, with 'DEEZEE
SLIM' and his friends such as EXTREME
FIGHTER David, and then there were many male and female
persons, young, old, and all in-between in ages, who also seemed to
all have a past and many a recent past, in all of these areas. It
used to scare the hell out of me peeps, as remember, Dawn-Marie King
had threatened to kill me if she ever finds me down here in Florida
someday, and she had not died until New Years Day in 2011, and I did
not come to learn of this until Ann called me after both my
daughter's friends first called, then she called; and that was after
I dared to call my wonderful friend, Sheriff Monks of San Mateo
County, out in Kali4nya. I only did this because I had powerful
evidence that time traveler Boom Boom, had been hacking into my
computer, and my keyboard and screen was literally one and the same
with his, using some very sophisticated worm virus allowing this to
be done. This is even discussed in that episode on the world famous
television show called, “Law & Order”, now defunct, as it was
obviously there to do its job, and let me know major stuff about me,
and my past life; and then after that; like magic, Merlin, and
Poofagazam, GONE, after 22
frikkin years of greatness and super entertainment. Do I believe this
can be any kind of a coincidence since this all started right after
my initial visit to Ron Wirtz Senior, at the Camden County
Prosecutor's Office, in Camden, New Jersey, on the 5th day
of December in 1989? Well the answer would be folks, a very
RESOUNDING
AND EMPHATIC
*****NO*****
and hopefully I've made my frikkin point, YO. Many huge things
happened while I was in that very short time period in my life,
working there and living in the great HOOD section of the great
illustrious FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA,
BRO GREEN bright lawns, and frog switch bay weed suckers. The time on
Hutchinson Island South Beach, with the giant girl flirtation attack,
was part of it; but major stuff all ready was underway, from
attacking my car before I could move out of WHITE CITY, Jewelly
Viqueen Copyright, to the strange sixteen year old blond with the
baseball sized bicep muscles from Burlington's High Street Printing
Shop, where I was employed as Franklin some time ago, in the early
eighteenth century, working with and for, my mean brother. There was
my daughter and her banquet feast “DREAM”, there was good old
annoying “Trinidad SAT” come on, must we be educated all the way
back into the first grade, or even kindergarten to see we just add in
the AN, after-all, between Ann and Sat? Or said better the other way
around, and I was being spun around on a hot pike, and completely
grilled for somebody's supper, as this all goes beyond just
amusement. Someone wants my life to end here in this world, and so do
I, unfortunately, yet that is not going to be an easy task to
perform. Not with the WORLD
LABORATORIES
up in the future, and lovely Donna there, retracing me over and over
again in retaliation for what I did to her, as her mom claimed all
along, but being out of time sync in 1980, the interaction with
Misses Gaines, never made any sense to me back then. We can discuss
how I was set up, as well as how a horrible father/daughter team
wanted to get me fixed up with a mentally challenged woman who we
will call Winnola Smithers, to keep things as the Dragnet peeps
would say, changed to protect the innocent,
DAH-----DAH-DAH-DAH-------DAH-----DAH-DAH-DAH-DAH. At least I don't
have to put anything ON TOP with this, huh June Grantwars? Let's
keep things civil around here, Mister President Lincoln,
YO!!!!!!!!!!! No, things have happened to me that tell me that Patty
Jane can believe all he wants, what he believes, maybe he is right,
but this is
ONE HELL OF A GREAT PARLOR TRICK.
Still
folks,
the
only way to make it work in the way of the great hand throwing game
of rock/paper/scissors/light-fire, of pipe experts, and time
travelers with adorable kids; is to then be satisfied that OK fine
and dandy, why then am I the pivotal point in this entire universe,
as I would have to be, as it stands to reason, if all of this
trickery, and time, and effort, and energy; is being continually
wasted and expended on little old nobody me; nobody in as far as Wall
Street and Bankers would rate me on some business balance sheet, hay,
I am a child of the goddess, even though technically in HER present
incarnation, I also double up as her dad; and I have no less or no
more worth, than all of you garbage 'cappies' on the street there at
B&W, in Manhattan, YO.
I
would bet my bottom dollar, and even my bottom itself folks; that
peeps are all waiting to know what I asked GAWKY GAUKAUK about last
night before retiring off to frikkin bed, and what response I
received from my great magical kitty cat. Well, you are all correct,
I win the bet, and yes, you can bet your Annie Dreamfields cornfield
ass that I asked why the DOW JONES IS AT ALL TIME RECORD HIGHS AND
BETTER THAN ALL THE WAY BACK INTO 2007 BEFORE THE ECONOMIC DOWNTURN
AND YES ONE OF THE ANSWERS WAS, LIKE YOU NEED ME TO TELL YOU PEEPS;
“YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER”
.
Yes
folks, my question was posed, and my answer was me drawing two
ordinary playing cards, the four suits from ace through nine, 36
little cards with the power to reveal a reality so powerful, and
there are 81 sub-universe realities, and only one is the answer, and
yes, my answer draw last night before hitting the mother fucking hay,
was PCN-143. Also folks, here are a few other of my own match-list
items in my GAWNUM DECODING PCN BOOK, for the number of PCN-143, or
the ROOT GAWNUM 14, interestingly enough also, my age when I wrote
the song in middle June, called, “That's The Way It Goes”, and
then two-three weeks later, it went, and never looked back, right
great lovely gorgeous Melanie Look-Alike somnambulist PEEKAY?????? So
anyway folks, here are the other 143's from my
match-list-Gawnum-book, YO, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!
GAWKY
GAUKAUK'S ANSWER TO ME LAST NIGHT FOR THE DOW JONES AND ITS 500+
POINT CLIMB IN LESS THAN TWO MOTHER FUCKING WEEKS, YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!! SO AM I BOUNCED AROUND FROM TOWN TO TOWN, OR TIME TO
TIME, BY AN EIGHT YEAR OLD PUNK KID, 1988 COPYRIGHT OFFICE, SO YOU
TELL ME? YOU ALL SEEM TO HAVE ALL THE DAM ANSWERS, RIGHT PRESIDENT
MCCOY?
PCN-143
FROM THE GAWNUM ROOT OF #14:
YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER---SONG WRITER---TRINITRAIL---HADDONWOOD---TAXI
DRIVER---PUNISHMENT---ADVANCED EXPLORATRON---ROYAL PAINS---MY SUPER
EX GIRLFRIEND.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Lads,
Lassies, Labbers, and Lab-Dogs, or (L-4); please tell me how you can
doubt or beat a system, given to you in what you all think of as a
DREAM,
as this was given in 1980 to me, and by a huge magical talking BLACK
CAT
who has the name of GAWKY
GAUKAUK
for crying out fucking loud peeps; YO; and gives me the answer of
PCN-624, when I asked ten days or so back, and I told you I will not
insult your intellect, but now I will, as I doubt that anyone got it,
when I asked my wonderful kitty cat who is not from this lovely
Mickey Dee best hand in Poker world, huh Bobby Vandegrift; YO; who
also is known around certain Philly-57 hockey ling-long areas as
'Anti Santa Claus', for doing such nice things in public places.
Unmentionable, detestable, and unspeakable of course; but my
wonderful oldest daut knows and I know that she knows; yes I asked
this magical cat just exactly why the ALL MIGHTY SCYLLA used my
'GITYA' to send me a 1997 message, that it still took me eleven more
years to get; and her message is totally true, and no one can dare to
call HER a liar, as SHE only tells the truth. That much I will give
HER, my hands stay in my pockets however if I have any cassette
tapes, AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA, McNulty boy. Yes not a lot of match list
items are in my GAWNUM DECODER BOOKS for the root number of 62, but
here are the few, and wow do they matter. No, make that please, WOW
do
they matter. Jeese Louise Kickacar Fontanna Shannon Surfer Genlow,
OH THE GODS, could I type on and on and on and ON AND ON AND ON AND
ON AND ON, YO!!!!!!!
You
missed me today, Jane Slutface Notfondaya, with your ONES CLOCK
ATTACK, HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's a quarter fucking
ass past one, and you missed me by two minutes this morning at
eleven-eleven, you evil Uwich. I guess all of the sleep walker PAULA
GIRLS stick together, or they should, or else, look what they might
do to you, right Melanie? I thought I would die when I saw Melanie
after leaving your school, Mike McNulty, in middle October of 1971,
AHA. She may have been a hundred feet shorter, but if that was not
Paula King's twin, then who is? But then, as do mighty well named
once tall and proud towers, no I was not going to say that the mighty
have fallen, as they have not; and in fact have one hell of a wild
future ride ahead of them, but I was going to say this folks: The
only difference is that one girl towered over the other, but take
that difference away, and we have a pair of perfect twins. Am I
buying all this? Let me ask my L-4, my Morians, my Lessians, and my
Inbetweenians, or anyone else up here, do you think for one rotten
minute, that I am? Not only am I not, but I cannot say that I AM,
because only my wonderful tower building claimer can also make such a
claim; and this has all ready been done, and is a matter of public
record, for a hundred million plus of all of her fans. I've got your
number Sky. You know the boy is a total Nick look-alike, now the girl
looks like a combination of you and mom. As I told you earlier this
year, MC, they are totally adorable. Saw them the other day swimming
in the pool. Why you did all of this to me, only the two of you know,
and must live with that for the rest of your lives.
Well,
for now I have spoken enough electronic freaking hot air. Let me go,
and later, I have so much horrible dirt to throw around for what has
been done to me, that it would fill up a frikkin library, YO.
MY
ETTOS-DEMENTIA attack again, sorry folks, I was gonna' close out
without telling you the few great PCN-624 match items. Here they are,
WOW:
'LOVE
IS FOR CARPENTERS' DREAM--TWO EMPTY LETTERS.
Double
triple quadruple freaking WOW, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
OF THIS BLOGGING
TRANSMISSION
FOLKS
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
55555555555555555555555555555555555555555
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0571
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2297
SEND-BACK-TEXT
DATFILE: 092512.286
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT
CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BSNF:
“PERSECUTION, NEIGHBORS, HELP ME SHERIFF”
©
2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2012
VOLUNTARILY
TAKEN SWORN LEGAL OATH OF TRUTH
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
At
6:25 AM, my dirt bag mother fucking neighbors from HELL
attacked me major hyper time. I posted up my supplemental last blog
that was finished around an hour give or take, before the incident.
Someone around here must be following these blogs and have some way
of knowing when I post up, I have heard that such a mother fucking
technology does exist, but as I told on my past most recent blog,
number SJ-CH-0570, I have no clue how to do all this fucking cunt
bull shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It
starts with the door in the fucking apartment directly across the
hall from my door, slamming, then you hear the jerk off loud uncouth
hall shouter guys about a minute or less later, from the next
apartment. It goes on and on, then after a while, there is another
slamming door back in the same apartment where it starts, right
across the hall, I believe some giant fat white woman lives in there.
They make my life total hell, Sheriff Mascara of Saint Lucie County,
and it never fucking ass stops; yet Debbie the Office Manager,
insists that they cannot do anything to enforce lease regs. It does
not make any sense. Why should I have to call police, and risk
retribution and retaliation, by these fucking dog vomit swallowing
lowlife bottom feeders, from hell cubed when it is the PUBLIC
HOUSING'S JOB to enforce these regs, SHRF?????????????????????????
Someone
is making me miserable with hacks, body attacks, neighbor noise, and
aerial as usual from yesterday. I am quite sure that their evil fixed
ICPE CONTROLLED DOW
JONES
stock market system,
IS FLYING NOW, UP PAST ALL
TIME
RECORD HIGHS as a
result, and it will, just as I TOLD
YOU GINA,
and others; JUST KEEP FLYING UP AND UP AND UP AND UP AND UP AND UP,
FOREVER AND FOREVER, ON MY BACK, VIA AND THROUGH ETERNAL PUNISHNENT
AND PERSECUTION, FROM THIS FUCKING ASS TWISTED DISEASE, AKA
WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE,
YO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
will later today, if this attack on me does not back the fuck off,
tell some stuff so big, it just might really begin WW-3. I have had
it, it is all true, and it all happened, right down to why the first
'GULF WAR' STARTED
after the eighties ended, and was called DESERT SHIELD, then followed
by DESERT STORM, both with bad personal initials for me,
WOW!!!!!!!!!!
LEAVE
ME FUCKING ALONE, you sick ass bastards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'll
be talking to my kitty cat,
to find out what is going on, later on folks. SCYLLA, you really are
testing my faith, and
not
just the spirits of http://www.mountainpen.blogspot.com/
Now I am getting a fucking micro-sucks computer hack. Where are you
when I need you, old school pal, FCC,
McDowell???????????????????????????????
MAGNESONIC----------MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM,
ON MY ELECTRONIC VOICE PRINT, DESTROY ALL MY ENEMIES AND ALL THEIR
LOVED ONES, UNDER ALL ORDERS, AND ALL TECKS, G.O. 901, CG-18, UNDER
G.O. 1133, AND S-T-O-P.
END
TRANSMISSION, YO!!!!!!!!!!
555555555555555555555
PIGS RAISED BY PIGS EQUALS TNG PIGS
Just another WordPress.com weblog
«
REPOST OF PIGS RAISED BY PIGS FROM 080808. GEE WILLIGARS 1988, GASH DARN
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER DCLIV------(0654)
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT
CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BSNF:
“NEVER ANY LASTING PEACE IN THIS EFFING APT”
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2296
SEND-BACK-TEXT
DATFILE: 120312.615
MONDAY
AFTERNOON, IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
©
2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR, AND HIS URL BLOGS
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
WOW,
THEY JUST WON'T EVER FUCKING SHUT THE FUCK UP OVER THERE IN THAT
ACROSS THE HALL PLACE, AND IT HAS BEEN THIS WAY SINCE THAT FUCKING
DAY OF THE 25TH OF SEPTEMBER, THAT HAS BEEN BLOGGED ABOUT, AND
REPOSTED A FEW TIMES; AND WILL BE AGAIN.
Last
night right after I got off the phone at just past eight of the clock
Post Meridian, they slammed their door over and over and over, as I
am not allowed to make a single sound or to even speak softly in my
own apartment, or they will make huge horrendous noises at me. It is
so illegal, and so totally miserable, and so fucking cunt unfair, as
they are TOTALLY PERSECUTING
ME TO MY GRAVE AND THEY BELONG PUT INTO FUCKING
CUNT LAPPING PRISON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Then around twenty
past one or so this afternoon, kaboom, it starts up again, as all was
quiet until then. It is right out of the blue, things are quiet and
then it just fucking starts; as do all of my many numerous sieges,
EVER SINCE THIS FUCKING ASS SHIT ALL BEGAN BACK
ON THE 15TH DAY
OF AUGUST, IN 1986!!!
I saw Debbie earlier, when I went out to purchase a little
food, and pay my car registration; over at the Virginia Avenue Office
of the Tax Collector. In Florida, you register based on your
birthday. Every state is so totally different, just as my good old
treasure finder father used to tell me so much, when he came back
after nearly ten years of diving, when I had just turned age
nineteen. We really do live in fifty countries, just as he said; and
he said another powerful thing to me. He said that at the stroke of a
pen in Washington, our lives can be radically altered in a very short
time. Good old Washington politics. He sure seemed to know so very
much about it, huh Monica. Someday, I WILL KNOW, all that I need to,
to be able to finish completing this gargantuan fucking puzzle, of
god dam dot connections, into seeming infinity. Jesus fucking Christ
All Mighty Goddess!!!
Yes,
I told Debbie that there must be a hundred peeps living in that
fucking apartment, and laughed. She knows that I am exaggerating a
little bit, but she also is not dumb; and she knows that these
fucking bastard roaches on two legs, are driving
me out of my fucking mind, at the speed of fucking light squared,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well, 'this is FLORIDA', to quote my ex-chief sound recording
engineer, of the RPL Sound Studios of State Street and Pierce Avenue,
in Camden, New Jersey, MISTER HOWARD
SOLOMON!!! Diving and driving, so
what next, more new fucking kids in the town, and McGinty and Marcus
refusing to hear any of it, YO?????????????????????????
WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Gimme' a bwake, Elmer fucking
Fwudddddd!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SHERIFF
MASCARA, THERE ARE A LOT OF CRAZY MOTHER FUCKERS LIVING IN THIS
PUBLIC HOUSING BUILDING, and I know that you are aware of this.
Goddess All Mighty, what
bullshit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
will be asking GAGA KITTY more things, as well as tell a
lot more things on my next several blogs. I may also be calling the
police again, as I intend to keep fighting, and will go down fucking
swinging; and anyone who does not know that, does not know fucking
me. I will tell this much right now, as an opener to a powerful soon
to be detailed, 'TRS'. Going from a TYPE ONE
to a TYPE THREE EXPLORATRON,
means that one is totally aware, before ever intentionally doing
this; that all of this is not just in your mind, but that your mind
is in all of this. Your mind creates space and time, hence this is
where future hyperspace gets its terminology, 'SPACE-TIME-MIND'. But
a quick even better secret, is that I may
not keep everyone's dirty little secrets too much longer
as I come to learn that they are behind making my life so mother
fucking off the scale horrific. Why should I do enemies favors, Count
Quentin Exploratron Petofi Collins? WHY, to quote the great toy
store, and of course, the not so great JIMMY BURR of
SHARK-SHARK-Gloucester, huh Aunt Ruth Huntington
Gottwald??????????????????????????????
Here
are some Youtube
videos to click on and enjoy. I will post many new ones
soon, along with the full unedited and un-sectioned story of my
mother in 1976, written by her in 1977,
called, “SUICIDE, OR WAS IT”. Many people just snap,
with or without any rats, or tats, or even those pesky pigskins,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAAA. SHEEEEEIT! SLAM
SLAM BING BANG BOOM, THESE MOTHER FUCKERS CAN SUCK MY
COCK SUCKING DICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They say I'm a sicko? Well, then
what are these dick lickers, sickos times ten to the ninth exponent,
for fucking crissake?
END
TRANSMISSION, FOLKS!
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER DCLV ---- (0655)
TEOHIV/TMCEAM/MORPRO
BSNF:
“ANOTHER SUPER BOTBAR FOR MARK WAYNE MOHR MOUNTAINPEN, THE CURSED
HUNTINGTON”
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2295
SEND-BACK-TEXT
DATE AND TIME FILE: 120312.976
LATE
MONDAY NIGHT HERE IN FORT HELL PIERCE, FL-USA
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2012 BLOGS AND URL PROP
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
RED
ALERT****RED ALERT****RED ALERT
THIS
IS A VERY FUCKING BAD BOTBAR DAY, MY NABES ARE SHOUTING AND IT IS
NEARLY HALF PAST ELEVEN, SLAMMING DOORS, NO MUSIC FOR A COUPLE OF
DAYS, WHAT, YOUR FUCKING STEREO SYSTEM IS BUSTED????????????????? I
DOUBT THAT, STILL, IF THERE REALLY IS A GOD OR GODDESS OR WHATEVER,
MAKE THEM KEEP THIS SHIT UP ANOTHER FUCKING HOUR, AND THEN I AM RID
OF THEM, PLEASE, IF YOU EVER CARED FOR ME AT ALL, SSJKK, YO,
EVER!!!!!!!!!
This
way, I can e-mail Debbie Morotto, and this will be the end of them.
PLEASE SSJKK, make them keep this up an another hour,
PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I BROWN EYED
GIRL YOU (BEG) WOLF WOLF, DICKY CHICKY NECKBITES, and no Roseann
Delaney until 6:30 AM, please.
Let
me tell you something folks. I asked GAGA-CAT why they were so
fucking bad all through WEDNESDAY-FRIDAY and as you know, I got the
answer of PCN-198, which includes WALL
STREET
in its matchbook items. The odds of a back to back draw of this PCN
are 81:1 against if this was just a random deal and not the great
GAWNUM at work. Yes, you guessed it peeps, I asked why they are so
bad again Sunday after one in the afternoon and then all fucking cunt
day today as well, 198, and again, 198. TRANSLATION, the WOMO
MILITUFORCE ENEMIES,
AND 'DARK SHADOWS' ADMITTED THROUGH THE BACK DOOR, IN THEIR SUPER
FANTASTIC FUCKING SHOW YEARS AGO, THEY OWN WHAT OTHER THAN WALL
STREET,
YO. 81 to 1 are the odds against asking GAGA-CAT and getting a random
answer on both these occasions of why these filth ball
slime eaters are screwing with me so bad ever since last Wednesday,
with a little bit of a break on fucking cunt Saturday, and that is
very very high odds. No pro-gambler in the world would touch a bet
with those kind of odds for a million dollars. THESE COCK SUCKING
MILITUFORCE WOMO ENEMIES
ARE KILLING ME,
and softly and covertly, not with anyone's song either, but with
powerful technologies, and for those who doubt my sanity, folks; I
have a lot of fucking company on the great and illustrious mother
fucking YOUTUBE,
as thousands of posted videos are all right there in total agreement,
so something is going on huge fucking time, and hopefully, the
fucking end of the world is at hand. I of course don't buy into it
for a second, but it surely would mother fucking answer all of my
woes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAY
A TON STRIKE THE SUN,
not hunting, but IRON, pure fucking IRON, let us get this fucking
nonsense over with, SSJKK, OK????????????????????????? You know you
don't like working with people any more than I do, so why not just
forget about that favor that I asked you over at the gate beyond Eden
that day so long ago, OK? Go ahead and end it all, SSJKK,
please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can't stansgis no more there POPEYE, or
in the case of KEISHA, POPARM-99! UGUGUGUGUGUGUGUGUGUGGGG, WARNER
BRO! Jeese Louise, Surfer Fonty, this is Mack Kaiter rucking
requeeniculous, YO BRAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! SHEEEEEEEEEEEIT!
OH
IF ONLY YOU WOULD GET YOUR WAKING WORLD MEMORY BACK, SARAH CHAINS
KRASSLE, YO. PLEASE FORGET THE FAVOR, I NEVER SHOULD HAVE ASKED YOU,
IN ANY TENTS, OR CIRCUSES, WOW!
IF
YOU ARE READING THIS ON ANY BLOG SITE WHERE VIDEOS ARE NOT DISPLAYED
ON THE RIGHT MARGIN, AND PRINT IS ALL SCREWED UP, GO TO THIS ADDRESS:
HAPPY
HUNTING, AND MISERABLE HUNTINGTON'S, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Nighty
mother fucking night oh cruel evil rotten sick demonic
world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Despite
all this hell, my roulette is killing the fucking WOMO-MILITUFORCE
enemies,
on paper. Today, the nabes kicked my teeth out making 10 units, and
over the past week, 19 units. As for my no no hush hush non quantum
system, that made me three units today as well, and is continuing a
more than 2 unit average in twelve most current games, even with all
this hell and death siege!!!
HA
HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
think I am being given no choice about moving out of Florida and
heading to mother fucking ass MEXICO.
This is not gonna' fucking work out for me, if I don't run away, as
the nineties song tried to warn me even then, I am a fucking cunt
dead man cubed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION:
WHAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER DCLVI-------(0656)
SUPPLEMENTAL
ENTRY
STARTING
BLOG:
MY
58TH BIRTHDAY IS ABOUT TO GO FUCKING SUPER BOTBAR AS USUAL, ALL
BIRTHDAYS AND FESTIVE FUCKING OCCASIONS ALWAYS JUST ABOUT DO.
I
awoke to a horrendous despicable mother fucking diareah and cramp
attack that kept me on the toilet for most of the mother fucking
morning. Right before that, I know there was a knock on the door. I
answered it but no one was there. Or was someone, and my memory again
is erased, and maybe Paula raped me again for all I know, and this up
set my poor old fragile body, as I am not a young man. Who can ever
know anything for real, in my twisted up fucking ass life, folks?
Then on top of the strange knock, the physical death beam strike
attack, and feeling like I have been struck down by one of General
Patton's tanks, I seem to have new upstairs nabes or else maintenance
men working in the apartment, I cannot be sure. I am hearing a lot of
furniture being moved, but recently, I have been hearing it, and also
recently, I have been extra warm in this apartment, and I think I may
have new folks up there that love to blast a lot of heat out, WOW,
even more fun for the Mountainpen, and they call this fucking
paradise down here, maybe for the fucking cunt rest of you it is, not
for fucking ass me, YO!!!!!!
It
is an overcast day here in Fort Pierce, Florida, USA, Earth, Sol,
Milky Way Galaxy (FPFLUSAESMWG). At least there is something good
about the dam day, I love overcast and dark skies. Bright sunshine is
not for fucking me, folks, maybe I should have married Roseann
Delaney back in 1969, if I could survive her hickey's that is. Oh
well, what did Dave Roth's pal Bob Vandegrift say a lot, about trade
offs, I just ended up trading one for another, huh Mike McNulty,
AHA-AHA-AHA??????????????? Then shortly past ten, BING BANG BOOM, the
across the hall nabes chimed in with their fucking usual shit, one
door slam after the other. These are the worst fucking neighbors that
anyone anywhere could ever possibly fucking have. I sent Debbie an
e-mail yesterday in the late afternoon, but it was hacked I think, as
I never saw the message pop up that it was sent. All this time I
thought it was me just a stupid fucking moron who could not operate a
personal computer, when all along, it was mother fucking sick evil
hackers, fucking with everything I do. When they do not want
something to work, it just doesn't work, and when they want the
entire system to just fucking cunt lapping freeze up, it does, and so
fucking forth, folks. It was never me, it always 'THEM', the
WOMO-LILI-2-FORCE, who fucking
cunt else?
Last
night when the jerk offs across the hall were noisy until nearly
midnight, I asked SSJKK to do me a miracle, and she spit in my eye,
as usual, as things got as quiet as a church mouse at that exact
time, and stayed that way with them, until a quarter past ten this
mother fucking diseased cock sucking morning. The cosmic forces have
no intention whatsoever of cutting me a break, so MEXICO is my only
way out of this mother fucking dick licking mess, come the new
fucking ass year!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So away I will go!!! How
would old Harry Callas have put this, I'm Oudddddda here, or is that
ball? No, it's THAT-BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AGENT
CONDOR AND AGENT FALCON MADE A POWERFUL STATEMENT TO THE WPIX
DOCUMENTARY NARATERS AND CREATIORS, THEY TOLD HWWHEN PEOPLE FOUND
SOME OF THE REAL NON-HOAX UFO RELATED STUFF AND CAPTURED IT ON FILM,
THE AIR FORCE AND SECRET BLACK OPS ALPHABET SOUP AGENCIES MADE
IMMEDIATE CONTACT WITH THEM, AND DEMANDED THE FILMS AND PHOTOS BACK,
AND THEN WENT ONTO TELL THEM THAT IF THEY EVER OPENED UP THEIR MOUTH
AND TOLD ABOUT ANY OF IT, THAT THEY WOULD NEVER HAVE A MOMENT'S PEACE
FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIFE. THIS ALL AIRED AS FACTS, ON THE WPIX, NEW
YOUR CITY, NEW YORK, CHANNEL ELEVEN, TELEVISION STATION DOCUMENTARY,
IN 1988, WHILE I WAS LIVING IN MOORESTOWN, NEW JERSEY, ON CENTRAL
AVENUE. I may have mentioned an address of 7 East Main Street, that
was an error, that was the address of an attorney who I had gone to
for complicated reasons.
'SLAM
SLAM SLAM BANG', NO I DO NOT THINK DEBBIE GOT MY E-MAIL, SO I WILL
TRY AGAIN, AND IF THEY FUCK WITH ME, THEN I WILL FIND A WAY TO MAKE
AN APPOINTMENT, THEY ARE SHOUTING OVER THERE AND MAKING HORRIBLE
SOUNDS. Yes, they have made my 58th mother fucking
birthday, ANOTHER SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR, hay you big heroes out there,
yes you must feel really tough huh, able to destroy and wreck, the
entire life of one little totally defenseless fucking guy, who has no
resources or family support,and 'no nothing', to quote Diana Ross,
also, the reason that I have neither, is that you took it all away
from me from the minute I left high school.
Here
are some new YOUTUBE VIDEO LINKS. Later on shortly, I will discuss my
father, both his visit in 1974 that initially began all kinds of wild
shit manifesting itself around my life, and then after his death in
1981, and the real hell after that or second phase, beginning with
the Playboy Bunny at Robin Hill Apartment Number 1802, forcing me and
my mom to move out and into Atco, New Jersey, and then from there, it
was TWILIGHT ZONE TOWNSHIP, from that moment on, right up through the
very present times. You all know I speak the truths, about this and
about how wicked my kid's family all
is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is
simply no other rational explanation, and even Elisa, the fiance' of
Joe King back in oh-Marola-8 and oh-Marola-9, would agree, as you
would know if you archived blogs from May and June time circa, from
the poor persecuted cursed Mountainpen. Well, Gawky Gaukauk said this
persecution has to do with WALL STREET, and this shit can get ultra
super frightening and dangerous, so let me die Sheriff Monks and
Sheriff Mascara, and my BLOOD WILL BE ON YOUR HANDS, not mine. I have
begged all of you for help, and these wicked horrible peeps are
murdering me, at the speed of light cubed, while you stand there and
just watch.
VIDEO
LINKS FOR BLOGS, FROM YOUTUBE POSTINGS:
I
JUST TOOK A HUGE COMPUTER BLACK CRACKER HACK, FBI AND ACLU, THEY
FROZE UP MY ENTIRE COMPUTER, EVEN THE WORD OFFICE SYSTEM, I HAD TO
PULL THE PLUG AND GO THROUGH A SYSTEMS RECOVERY PROCESS. I AM
DRIVING OVER NOW TO THE FORT PIERCE POLICE TO DEMAND SOME PROTECTION,
MY LIFE IS IN MAJOR DANGER, THIS IS THE WORST FUCKING DAY OF THE PAST
TEN FUCKING CUNT YEARS.
THIS
BLOG STOPS HERE UNTIL I LEAVE THE POLICE DEPT.
IF THE AUTHORITIES WILL NOT HELP ME, I WILL DO EVERYTHING IN MY POWER TO END THIS WORLD ON DECEMBER 21ST THIS YEAR, AND THAT IS A PROMISE.
No comments:
Post a Comment