MORIANITY-3, CHAPTER 4

MORIANITY-3-CHAPTER lV

10:15 PM-EST, JANUARY 29, 2013, TUESDAY NIGHT

IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA; MARK WAYNE MOHR RECORDING AND REPORTING, FOR THE RECORD, ON THE RECORD, AND BY THE RECORD; SO HELP ME SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, GODDESS ALL MIGHTY.

Never ending things continue to happen to this computer, and will always happen, as the ''IF'', quite obviously views it, as an instrument being used, to attempt to overthrow and injure its very survival, as once something is exposed, to quote the mighty Barnabas Collins of Dark Shadows, it can much more easily be destroyed. First, it needs to be exposed, then it can be, possibly destroyed, and then only possibly, but there is no possibility whatsoever of accomplishing that lotable goal of destroying wickedness and evil and power-mongers and greed loving Reaganomics fans, without bringing the entire issue to the surface, and to the attention of the public 99, so my question still remains, to a totally controlled news media, where is Michael Moore's great 2011 group, ''OCCUPY''???????????????? Oh well, with or without it or them, I will fight on, and there is a major lot to tell.

First off folks, I lost eight units over the weekend, but won back eleven units, on Monday, yesterday, at my roulette. We are plugging and trudging along, averaging plus one unit for each of the three days of play, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, and I have not played today, and may not, as I am busy with other major bull-crap, and am on some limited time, and have a lot I need to tell right now on this blog, and will only be able to get to a little percentage chunk of the entire mess, but I'll open a lot of doors up, and then later on, we can all walk into some new rooms and areas, and believe me when I tell you, that minds are gonna' get frikkin blown!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My father, according to numerous psychic readers, knew the Callio folks, back when my mom and him, and myself, all resided on Richmond Avenue in south Atlantic City and Atlantic Avenues, at the Bruce Manor Motel, owned by Fred Laurenz and his wife, and no I do not know exactly how they spelled their name, as I was weight years frikkin old at the time, and neither does Microsoft Spell Checker, (MSC). Folks like Patty-Jane, on a great television show called, ''The Mentalist'', don't believe that 'any' psychics are tuned into Astral Realities, and all are phony fake con artists, and he is 99.99% right. The problem is that I personally and totally know that he is also 0.001% not right. This fall between the cracks of reality, and not ODF you hack jack quack Lattisaw garbage; but yes, this fall between the cracks, in my personal miserable hell or waking life as MWM, is all built around this one powerful truth, and the mighty Fred Windstein somehow seemed to know about this, back in 1997, and so did his coworker and pal, 'Mirrors-Craig', from the Berlin, New Jersey, White Horse Pike Radio Shack Tandy Store. Without making a million pages out of a huge evil nightmare, that is all major BLUEBOOK interconnected, and keeping things as abridged and compressed as is humanly possible, peeps; let me just say a few little things. My dad knew the parents of the late Frank Callio and the brother of late Victoria, his aunt, who was in love with me when I was age fifteen, and then 27 years later, treated me like total crap over the telephone, for no good reason. When peeps act horrendous when you do nothing to cause it, they have something to hide, and the more wild the situation, and the more that they need to keep well hidden the darkened shadows, well, common sense tells us that the crap being hidden, is in a ratio and proportion, with or without Sorian question number eighteen, of New Jersey Security Officers; to how mean and horrible and wild, you get treated, for doing no more than politely asking a quick question that could be answered in a single sentence, including a polite response of, ''well, I don't really think that this is any of your business''. All of that would be within normal behavior. I totally disagree with you, Mike Kelly, of Philadelphia, oh great and mighty nineties anesthesiologist of U of M Hospital, and author of a once existing newsletter, that brought the chemtrail phenomenon into first exposure, called, ''Secrets From The Next Dimension''. You and Victoria Callio are totally entitled to your opinion, as is Michelle Daniels of RPL Sound Studios in 1980, and also, as am I. Spell Checker does not seem to recognize the way that I believe Mizz Daniels spelled her name, 'Mashell', and puts a red line under it, and when you check, there is no correction for it, yes State Farm, you really cannot trust much of what you see here, on this lovely ass interfret.

My father was in the United States Merchant Marines, during a time, when the great Albert Einstein, did the unthinkable, at a naval shipyard, in Philadelphia, just down the road from where my parents were destined to meet, where my mom was working at the same time, as a secretary, for the them Lavino Shipping Company, now bought by the great British firm, INCHCAPE SHIPPING, at least as of the times when this century was just getting started. My father's genetics were altered in a way that causes one to be more sensitive to fifth dimensional life. This was a result of this experiment conducted in total secrecy, by the War Department, later to become the Department of Defense, and part of the USAF and the great Bluebook Project. Both the father of Robert McGuire, and builder of the great Tennessee Avenue Pittsburgh Hotel and Erin Bar in 1903, as well as Victoria Callio's brother, the parents of Frank and Sarah Callio, were all in on a few things, that pertained to the great secret experiment, and is even why today, they all own a secret machine, or several of them, that can indeed open up reality into the fifth dimension. I learned the hard way that this can be done synthetically through electromagnetic recording of sound waves and using the right kind of sound, as opposed to what they all have and use, which is more along the lines of things way too classified for me to feel at all safe rambling on about on a blog. Still, my catching onto the entire mess, was all done in January of 1974, 39 years ago right to the very calendar days of present times. The entire story if ever told at a beginning point, and done in ways that average stories are indeed written in books, would be several encyclopedia's long, I promise you all. There are things happening, all around this world, that make anything now that you could possibly view anywhere on the entire internet, seem like a child's fable or kids messing around in a sandbox with toy dump trucks. If I lie, I die, right Daddy? Still folks, my dad did do some pillow talking, over a two week stay at the same apartment in Oaklyn, New Jersey, where the great Russell Thaxton came over at age fifteen, drunk as a whale, after he had just been molested sexually, by one of his special education teachers of the more acceptable ER days of middle December in 1969. I can never tell it all, but my father had nightmares from the time he was aboard the Eldridge, right up until; the day he died. Only some Morians by now, know that really, he did not have nightmares, but that the fifth dimension and the great 'IF', was 'doing its own thing', as gorgeous Valerie Bert said in that Gong Show song of hers back around the time era of 1979 that is if my memories are serving me within the limitations of normal channels in the STM. But weight watching or worlds doing their thing or not, reality is what it is just as the illustrious and eminent Dawn King used to put that so well, back in the late twenty ohs. This is just an opened door to a windy house with many breezes blowing and many glaring eyes staring, and we can get back to this later on, my pal Maverick Rockford, and other Morians. So before anyone gets loosened teeth, or files; let's move on!

I could not help noticing, old friend, 001, that you edited out that line that was on the show at earlier times, the conversation in the bar, and the episode from close to a year back somewhere, with the gold and the crabs. I don't own that you know, the gold, the crabs, or that age old story line. That has been around forever, and you don't need to edit it out for my sake, but are you doing it so that my stuff remains further and further inside the great realm of endless obscurity? Yes, that must be it. Still, do I know that is the motive, am I psychic, sir. Well, to quote you, 'let's' not be absurd, huh Herby? Sure, there are thousands if not a million peeps out there in the world some place, using the psychic game as a con to steal our money. Paula Uwich of Glendora, New Jersey is one of those, but you do not get the whole story, Patty. She really did have a major expanmsion of the feel sensory system. But yes, she also knew how to dig up stuff with a real network that psychics use, and not Dion's network, but a 'pre-Google' intranet type of interconnected source material for sharing, and this is why she knew a lot about me in 1996 and 1997, and took 9200 dollars from me, but she did have a real expansion of the sense of feel, and there is no sixth sense, but some few out here, really do have a powerful extra amount, of extra sensory feeling. We all have some sense of feel, some have normal, some have less of it, some have more, some have really major expanded amounts, and PU was amongst that group. But all she wanted to do was triple the size of her home on the Black Horse Pike, using peeps like me, in torment, that needed real help, nopt separation from our money. So you keep right on preaching the word of anti-psychics 001, as after what trash like her did to me, at my most vulnerable time in my entire miserable frikkin life, there is not enough bad things you could say about her and her profession, for the most part. Hay, as with the episode following the edit-job, for reasons only you in Hollywood know; take the wrong person, and you may indeed need to throw a fire drink at somebody and run for your life. I admit that if I ever were to run into Paula Uwich, I would pick up that little 55 inch pip squeak by her miserable ugly old throat, and throw her half way across the pike. Better still, I'd take her after that, out to the middle of nowhere, and let DEEDEE feast on that miserable carcass. Anything I can do to be of service, lovely DEEDEE. How I love my huge ravens, and hawks and buzzards, and they all know me. Once the nature force makes contact with a human, in this biosphere; the creatures below the human kingdom, all know you, and you need only use a basic telepathic conversation with them, as they are on a five year old human level for the most part. We need not ramble on with any more of this, for right now, ladies and gentlemen, as there is always later.

Good people, I could tell so much, that you would go insane. For right now, I will just keep insisting, that there is literally a million pages of text, behind every single topic that I open up; either on this one particular blog, or any of them. Earlier this evening, someone or something hacked into my PC, and froze it up without my even being online. It was some Microsucks update system in fifteen parts, and it froze at 11 of 15 update, and would not release. My machine was totally off, not even on the sleeper mode where the dim orange light is on instead of the brighter blue light. Suddenly, poof, it pops on, and froze up for 90 minutes. I had to kill the power and restore the system, and eventually the updates finished and did their Bertrinelli thing. GONG, Sally Starr. Oh well, Letty, Midge, MY, mimicking is not only a great flattery, but it is something that certain families just seem to do within its vast long extending members, and maybe whether they are consciously aware of it or not. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, and End Tranny, sweet Granny!