The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment": MORIANITY PART 5, CHAPTER 10

MORIANITY-PART 5, CHAPTER 10

8:10 PM-EDST, THURSDAY NIGHT, MARCH 14, 2013

MOUNTAINPEN, AKA MARK WAYNE MOHR

© BLOG URLS OF MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2013

Now we will examine how my WOMO enemies, MIND-HACKED me, with their powerful ETTOS-PAWM-PIE system, while I was doing the past blog of Chapter-9. After this, we will move on to discuss more stuff. JUST AS I TOLD YOU GINA, MY LOVELY GIANT NIGHT LADY OF THE NINETIES; THE DOW JONES INDUSTRIAL AVERAGES, IS FLYING UP EVERY SINGLE DAY. IT HAS BEEN ONLY UP FOR NEARLY A MONTH NOW WITH MAYBE THREE DAYS OF EXCEPTION. THIS SUPER MONSTER BULL RALLY IS EXACTLY TOLD AND PREDICTED, OR WAS, BY ME, THE MOUNTAINPEN; THE CRAZY CURSING DUDE OF WFMU, AND ALL OF HIS PALS. In case my message is not getting across since not one person has commented and given me my props, I will have to do it all by myself, and guess what folks, I am not one tiny little bit mother fucking shy about doing just fucking THAT!

I TOLD YOU SO, I TOLD YOU SO, I TOLD YOU SO******************

One thing about me, I may pen name myself as many folks do on many online sites with various screen names, such as Mountainpen, but I would never think of calling myself the name of some world famous recording artist, like Jason Forrest did. Yes, my mind was hacked severely, as I said there were three things going back to 1997, and then the fourth one went back into the Orwell times of early 1984, at my Throat Specialist's Northeast Philly Office, off of Grant Avenue somewhere. The biggest one out of all four, not three times, when this family messed with and hacked my memory, or time itself really, thus memories would merely correspond to the altered situation, or go blank, and the reason for why it does one or the other, is too complex for this blog today, so let me move on, and continue with the biggest of all four of these things, taking place in middle June of 1996, at my apartment, the Highview Complex, at the quad-corner of Unhappy, Unhealthy, Kent Street, and Sicklerville Roads. I speak of course of the great KING who came to me as Queen Paula, and nine months later, Pee Junior was born on March the twenty-ninth in 1997. I have totally blocked memories of the giant goddess after she rang my doorbell at the highview Apartments, yet my maintenance man, Sam, asked me who my giant goddess girlfriend was, as he almost lost his balance and fell over when he saw her from his adjacent back yard, to quote the dude from June of ninety-six, folks. But this story of my four big memory gap outs does not contain a lot more of them, and this blog will not be getting into them for now. What needs to be addressed here now are two other powerful items. First, we are now a society that keeps our fragile weak memories all stored on Twitter Accounts, telling the world our business day by day, every little move we make. Just why this all happened, I cannot give you a precise answer right now, all though I am working on a real doozie whopper, President Obama, my friend; and other loyal Morians out here. What needs to get explained my good folks is simply this. When we as a collective society, begin to keep a collective record like this, we can access it, and most of us now, from the time this all started, and forward as we live onward, can reconstruct our lives a million percent more improved, by doing this. Why they do it publicly and not privately in a diary, is anyone's guess, perhaps the need to feel important or popular, but for whatever the reason, now, there is less and less opportunity for the Exploratronic-Supermind (ES) to be able to play lots of nasty mystical magical games with us, anywhere near as often and as well. I was not born with my memory by the way. I used to keep a life journal on cassette tape and had twelve thousand taped events, not a day missing, not an hour probably. The more I reviewed stuff, the more my unconscious mind began to reveal to me that I will not need to record things forever, at least for my sake. This behavior begins to alter the way the brain works, or it did in my case. Let me just speak for myself. After the time I came down to Florida in late 2009, it was a perfect minute to minute memory track, all the way back. But this is not the point. What is the point is that in this new world of the tweety birds and the rocking robins, we all can do this, and I believe wholeheartedly that my mind is not any different than all of yours. As you review your journals or Twitter accounts or whatever, you will begin to re-remember things that were almost gone forever out of your conscious mind grasp. The loner you do it and the more often you do it with more time period to cover, the more your brain will mysteriously rewire itself to a point where you become like a computer remembers, and not in fragmentation and overall general tiny pieces. My mind started doing this in the nineties, and by 2010, the hard wiring of my new brain is almost without any gaps at all, so the few that I do have, stand out big time. Also, the more you remember about waking life, the more you start remembering 'dreams', not just ones you just had, but ones long forgotten to you and never remembered. Then more wild stuff happens. You remember things that the world may tell you did not happen, only they did, in interactions with you and the IF, that is of course, without the bread, or any other old sixties songs of the Walgreen Pharmaceutical Chain. Go crow on that one for a while, good people. You see, nothing is forgotten, no detail to any day, a month ago, a year ago, 1000 years ago. This is where it goes places where I am not ready to take all of you yet. Keeping your mind the way it is, protects you from the hell of too much remembering, I never said that this is some blessing, if I had to choose a fitting way to describe my existence, I would say, a cursing, and even at the risk of being pigeonholed, right Jason Forrest Fromthetrees? Seeing life the way most of you all do, you must admit to yourself, that you are not the person that you were, not in your life, not in your situations, not in your surroundings, and not in your mental personality, 5 years back, ten, fifteen, and keep going in these multiples of fives for as long as you have lived. Those old yous all died. The new you is the you that you are at the present time. Do you feel dead? This barrier does not stop at a birth-bed abnd a death-bed either folks. I may not be Benjamin Franklin any longer, and I certainly am not Hitler any longer. Where are you when I mother fucking need you, you old jerk off unforgiving soul, Steve Murray, of Florence, New Jersey, USAESMWG????????? So folks, let us reiterate my 4 hugest memory gap-out strikes, since except for these times, I remember with total clarity, all the other shit all before and after the actual strike, and in ALL 4 CASES, JUST WHO IS INVOLVED, BUT MY DAM DAUGHTER'S FAMILY, OR ISIS HERSELF? Listed in time order, present time backward, and with a quick blurb insert following the date with the event: October of 2006, while with Ed Lynch, McGuire appears at the car window in a photo later developed, nobody ever saw him in real life----attack-1. February of 1997, after leaving McGuire's bar, forgetting the name of 'CALLIO' as soon as I began driving away, attack-2. June 1996, Giant P comes to my apartment and does another rape and memory gap on me like July 4, 1969 all over again, only she miscarries and my younger daughter only exists in many parallel universes where she is just about to be released from the local area famous Harborfields Detention Center of Egg Harbor City, attack-3. Leaving the 506 Robin Hill Apartment in 1984, to drive to a very mysterious Throat Specialist's Office in Northeast Philadelphia, no memory of anything except the man who examined me and told me he could not find anything wrong with me, the entire rest of the day blank forever, and years later in 1989, I stumbled onto my Life Journal cassette tapes, remember I even had a tape recorder permanently kept in my automobile back when I was keeping this life journal, and the story is not pretty folks, as I was diverted to a side street while trying to drive back to I-95 after leaving the doctor, and was forced out of my car by fake police who took me to a home with a lot of naked African American people, living right where the windows faced the highway, and the rest of it is so unbloggable, I would not dare tell it, but the FBI most likely has these tapes even as I speak, as my journal was all lost to the mighty King Branch of THAT-FAMILY or (TAWF-70) as I also have labeled them.

Now here is why I knew things would totally mother fucking collapse for me in the first few months of 2013. As soon as the Hickey Hockey Ling-Long Henry 12 Angry Men Fonda Season, resumed, just as it did after 1994 ended and 1995 came in, remember how the fucking markets DOUBLED IN POINT VALUE, in three tiny years, 1995-1996-1997? Remember this anyone, or do you need to check with your Twitter Accounts, oh that's right, your lives cannot be accessed as Twitter was not there back then for you. Oh yes, the filthy fucking Philly Flyers came back super strong and nearly clinched Lord Stanley's Cup that short season, and I know they're having a super bang up season again this year, they have to be, even though I do not follow this fucking shit one bit, and you can see the stock market as well, making ALL TIME RECORD HIGHS, and just as I TOLD ALL OF YOU, IS NOW CREEPING UP ON THE 15,000 POINT MARK, and then it will reach 16000, 17000, 18000, 19000, 20000, and within three years, this 13,000 figure will double as it did before, and by mother fucking early in 2016, the DJIA will be around 26,000 FUCKING CUNT POPINTS IN VALUE, and all by evil crooked criminal means of destroying pathetic MARK WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN FUCKING MOHR.

Yes, whoever you are, friend of the dude I used to call Chester, and who really is Frank, thank you for telling people that I am indeed for real, and you know it, and you can see I am not making any of this up, RIGHT DOWN TO THE DOW JONES STOCK MARKET PRICES. It is all coming to fruition just as I said that it all would. Too bad I cannot take everyone everywhere, with me 24-7-365.2422, and let them see all of this for themselves; along with about ten quintillion other wild outlandish inconceivable huge things.

Folks, a horrible crap and shit attack struck me tonight around half past seven while I was trying to enjoy the television show called, ''The Mentalist''. I am still in pain. Recently, the WOMO enemies have been back to striking me hard with these major health attacks, done with total absolute stealth and black-ops precision. Obviously, when the filthy fucking jerk off Flyers Hockey season started up, then this had to so that they could re-engineer all of this all over again, and recreate 1995 all fucking cunt lapping over again. Here we go, right © Office of WASH-DOC-13-600? Yes Roy old buddy, just like you told me, no one in that town can behave themselves, so they have to have the age of consent as low as thirteen. How could our government run if every fucking politician there in town was licked up in fucking prison, YO? This is certainly no freaking bloody shoe museum secret, right Vasco DeGama and Ponce Deleon? If I need to consult more powerful peeps than this, why not just have me get back in touch with Louis Chicky Laines and Scott Ransom? W-----O-----W!!!!!!!!!!!! No, I think it might be more prudent of me to locate my old friend, Margie Leo from late in 1985, and ask her to just, as she would say so absolutely and perfectly, “Cut me a break, YO”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nobody can say, I KNOW or WOW like my wonderful all mighty daughter, and the entire world knows it, no matter how they do not like it, but please bring my bank truck back, TD, I need to see it when I go there. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!