MORIANITY-PART
5, CHAPTER 12
2:22
AM-EDST, MONDAY MORNING, MARCH 18, 2013
MOUNTAINPEN, AKA MARK WAYNE MOHR
©
BLOG URLS OF MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2013
If
you can believe in all the shit that happens to me as merely a
powerful stack of pure happenstance, over the only logical conclusion
that something is and has been fucking messing with me since the day
I have been born, then this proves how all minds indeed operate
differently.
If
you can honestly believe that after a solid ass year of trying to get
money together so as to be able to resume music projects at the only
sound studio in my county, and after finally accomplishing it and
paying off my car so that two payments later as savings instead of
going to the finance company, I could start operating again,
remembering how things all changed after that fucking girl fired me
at my part time job a year ago, Miss Jessica Throatavenues, from the
Harvest FOC of FP, F; and just at this perfectly timed day almost, I
get that phone call that the place is no longer operating past next
week. If they were the kind of peeps that Jan Nace was back in
1977-1980 up in Jersey, at the Maxfield Studio, that would have been
the end of my fucking ass greedy fisherman song, as they would just
wipe it out, anyone who knows or knew the All mighty Jane Nace, would
not argue with me, he had the personality of a lizard, and the pity
of Ebeneezer Scrooge in his life before the awakening through Charles
Dickens.
Now
folks, this is just the very very very very very fucking most recent
coincidence, especially regarding me trying to do ANYTHING
that pertains to fucking MUSIC.
I told the blogs years ago, how my friend David seemed to also be
under this very same music curse, along with me,, and how in just his
most recent episode with this invisible monster, he went to get into
his car to drive over to a Philly music store, and he turned the key,
and the car blew up, not like in the Casino Movie, but you all know
what I mean. It was a Cadillac car in good condition, and all was
fine, and he was so happy, and all excited about purchasing a cool
set of fucking drums, and bang, that was fucking it for the drums.
People who have their entire lives go this way without any break off
or exception, are punished even fucking further by a very nasty mean
intolerant society that refuses to entertain the smallest possible
notion that something is going on, BEHIBND THE FUCKING OZ CURTAINS,
my friends and foes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It is
fucking ass bad enough that peeps like us had to endlessly suffer,
and at least he woke up out of this world hell illusion in early
March of OHM-2, but here I AM, dogfood and fucking all, and DOGHOUSES
2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Then not a fucking
soul believes the story, nor has the tiniest fucking tear to shed for
you; oh no, you're just a whining, complaining, bellyaching,
annoying, fucking pain in the dead head asshole little fool, that's
all, and nothing else; so go shut the fuck up, and cry into your
pillow, YO. This is the fucking shit that I call, for obvious
reasons; the powerful horrendous mother fucking HUNTINGTON CURSE,
YO!!!!!!!!
Hello
to you too, Jupiter freaking Lighthouse. Hay Sarah, R-U gonna' lock
me up inside that one too, and then what are you gonna do with
Billy-H., as he is not in my area, PTL-PR!
Morianity Foundation, re-posted from 2007
This
foundation is the invention of a man who has been the victim of
terrible harassment for many years, from powerful high profile people
that ruined his life. It is his sincere desire to someday have a
place where people such as myself, can come to, to assist them from
any and all persecutions from anyone or group; all within the laws of
the United States, and the world.
EVERY
GOOD
BOY
DOES,
FACE THE CURSE, IF CHOSEN!
To
more clearly get the picture here, you may need to be reading this at
the blogger dot com website, use the link if you are somewhere else,
folks.
I
know that there are a lot more mysterious things going on in my
mother fucking absurd life than this music bullshit thing, but it
still bugs the living fuck out of me. It is thongs like this that
will never release me from my upbringing no matter how enlightened I
get, that both SATAN and JESUS CHRIST and his magic blood to cover
sins, is all real and totally fucking true. I have tried to shake
that shit all my life, and I cannot, no matter how mother fucking
hard I shake. Saints and sinners 4 crissake, what is going fucking
on, YO???????????????????????????????? Hay, even the dam ex-pope was
curious, and the story has been told, do you really think I'd lie
about something this fucking huge and
holy????????????????????????????? Cut me a break, Margie fucking Leo,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
know I told about an ancestor of mine who was always called, and this
was a very long time ago in the early middle eighteen hundreds, ''the
dude''. He dressed like Rockefeller, and no he was not that rich. He
left his wife, Sarah Huntington Eastman, at a young age, and
disappeared out to San Francisco and not all that far from Google
Street. He never got old, he just kept staying 30 forever. He was 95,
and still had thick black hair and still ran down the street like a
twenty year old. One day he tried to off himself and was smashed to
bits by a street car right after they were invented. He lived through
it and was in the hospital and finally, woke up out of his HUNTINGTON
CURSE. Yes, Mister Macy and TD Bank, I agree with you, W---O---W!
And as I mother fucking speak, the death android, Morty Mortino just
fucked me real fucking good at 3:03 AM, buzzing on my fucking right
side, and when I went to swing at the bastard, my hand struck my
keyboard at its corner, and hurt my fucking index finger knuckle. It
just now stopped hurting, I heel very quickly, FUCK YOU, ya' bastard
ass bitch! This is starting out as a real fucking bad ass day, YO YO
YO YO YO. But am I hated because they know I did it better, and can
pick it right to the letter, United States 1988 Copyright Office
Examiners? Maybe this will bounce off deaf ears. But back to my
cursed ancestor the dude, whose name I have forgotten presently;
there are secret cults in Frisco whose descendants knew him, and have
formed a cult with him as their deity, so I was told recently by a
very trustworthy source. Yeah, you picked one hell of a god to
worship, a cursed fucking ass Huntington. Still, he did own a large
beach at one point, just as his father owned nearly all of Suffolk
County in New York. whoopdeedo, big deal, like anyone including me
could really give a fucking shit, huh distant cousin. Tell your old
pal Stevie Lose he is nothing but a crybaby hoax-man, him and his
going fucking blind. The bastard is 30 fucking years older now and
still sees 5 times better than I do, you're all a bunch of asshole
insecure publicity seekers, prove me wrong, and I'll give you five
meeeyun dollars, cuzz!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
what, one minute you like hate my president, now you suddenly like
him, Jeese-Louise; I don't know about leaving your worries behind
there pal, but man, make up your friggin' mind, YO! WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!
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