MORIANITY PART 5, CHAPTER NINE

MORIANITY PART 5, CHAPTER IX

MOUNTAINPEN, AKA MARK WAYNE MOHR

© MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOG URLS 2006-2013

1:45 AM-EDST, THURSDAY, 14 MARCH, 2013

I said that I would keep my mouth shut about some wild 'pillow-talk' done by my father, Mister Wayne Landis Mohr, born in Toledo, Ohio, USAESMWG, on 10 September of 1919 and I will, as long as certain things remain in an agreement between the Milituforce and myself. But that does not mean that I will not do what all children as well as adults who remember being children once, all have mostly done when our mother would make cake or fudge or brownies and we to quote the expression, 'asked to lick the bowl', a gross thing to do, and not what we really did, still, that was the going expression, and still appears to be even on the most modern hip today up to date television shows. Yes, I cannot grab a large piece of the cake tonight, but that does not mean I will not lick the bowl here, not after a SUPER BOTBAR TIMES 4 COSMIC/MAGNETIC ATTACK from the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, or said more up to date, the INTERACTION FORCE, and even more modern and updated, might be what was said all along all throughout many of my 2007-2009 blogs a lot, while back in New Jersey, the 'ES' or the (Exploratronic Supermind). But first things first. I was Microsucked shortly past midnight yesterday, Wednesday or about 24 hours ago from right now as I speak/type, with their UPDATES. We all get this, at least from what I have been told, and learned recently, in the past year or two, from three different sources; unless one uses the Apple system, over this less expensive one, and so as usual; what else, the rich have it better. So color me impressed, and like DUH, right Ann King, old 'buddy'????????????????????????? WOW, did I do some powerful scrubbing for two days, daughter of AK, or late one. I wonder why this entire family has death dates on so many holidays. Well, that is of course not as simple as it sounds on the surface, huh Mister PP of SPR, now defucked?Yes folks, licking the pan is going to be fun this morning, and since I have been under this monster ass death attack, and MARCH of 2013 has been beyond mother fucking putrid and horrendous for me, I am not just going to stand idly by while these sleazy diseased twisted jerk off maggots from hellfire, laugh and jeer and injure me severely, and walk away so clean, leaving my nice shiny shoes all red and blood stained, right copyright Examiners from 2000 AD? Just imagine after you read this blog through to the end, if I tell you now that this is just me licking the pan, not making the large pan of fudge for a family feast, what would really all get said if I ever go entirely off and tell the whole dam ass thing, ladies and gentlemen?

First off folks, I need to address the subject of the record promoter from 1980, while I was employed at the RPL Sound Studio Labs, in Camden, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG, by the name of Lenny William McKinnon. Not only was he quite a fascinating 'entity', but so are his vine roots as well. He may have left me with lots of sour grapes, but that is, as Donna Diva Summer the late disco queen may put this, neither hair, nor there! Still, when I really go to town and tell the entire enchilada, lads, lassies, Labbers, and Lab Dogs, (L-4), you'll know it, because you will be suddenly seeing your socks, not on your feet, and you will not be at the Walmart Store, unless you are playing with a tablet or PC or phone there, and happen to viewing this blog, by some wild 'chance', no such thing, there are more leprechauns people, than there are random coincidences and pure chance encounters of anything, so believe 'THAT', Rockdroid Roddenberry. Don't crush poor old Captain Kirk there big LURCH RORO; he has a daughter to take care of, and they both have their automobiles as well to be concerned with, right Miss Lee Farmers? Well folks, shall we get down and dirty into the business at hand now, maitees, YARRR??????????????

Lenny and his friends, invented what you call RAP MUSIC. He is no ordinary man, and never was. He has been following me throughout the past few millions of years, along with many others in the ES, such as Julia White, who we all know what I believe, and I know that nobody believes me, so you know what, that is fine for now, but when I tell some more, you will be scathing your head, wondering and worrying, as I am totally planning to make this very personal, in other words; you WILL be identifying stuff in your own life as soon as you fully digest this blog chapter, and you are not going to be in a real good mood for a while, and that's a promise, so if you wish to skip and gloss permanently over Chapter nine of Morianity-Part-5, this may be a real dam good time to hit the 'Next Blog' button or simply lock off of the Wordpress or Blogger Websites. You have been sufficiently and properly warned, so if you go nuttier than a fruit tree in a day or two, don't even think about suing me, parking across from the Cifaloglio Garage, or pulling the Trump Rug off his majesty's great scowling frowning evil head!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talk about the real 1-2-3.

As you know, I am under a wild new attack that began as this horrible fucking March month came in. This has been a month ever since I was a dam ass teenager, that I have hated with a passion, then later on after age 30 or so, I came to despise October with equal force and passion, and all for very real and personal, and totally off the wall Twilight-Zone reasons, that we need not get into on this freaking blog, good folks, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just last night, Wednesday night, from seven through eight of the fucking asshole clock, my monster ass mother fucking nabes did nothing but slam in and out and in and out and in and out, totally senseless persecution of me, and I think the smarter quarter of my audience knows exactly what is going on, and does not dismiss these coincidences like the non fans of the great “Law & Order” television show.

In addition, these rotten bastard prick scum bags, for some time again, HAVE BEEN BACK ON A REAL ROLL OF PUMMELING ME WITH THEIR EVIL; CONSTANT NOISE, SCREAMING, SLAMMING, IN AND OUT, ALL DAY AND NIGHT, AND FLATTENING MY TIRE WITHOUT HELP FROM JULLIARD MS OF MANHATTAN, OR ANY OF ITS QUITE BRIGHT PUPILS. DOORS GO ON ALL NIGHT AGAIN NOW, THEY ARE GOING ON STILL AS I WRITE THIS FUCKING BLOG AT 2:24 AM, AND THE MANAGEMENT WILL NOT DO A THING TO THEM, AS THEY ALL HAVE BEEN PAID OFF OR THREATENED OFF. Still, I was informed, that when I wish to move, if I get a doctor's note that my nerves are being adversely effected to the point of injuring my general health, they will move me to the building up north a ways on 7^th Avenue, into a unit for old and quiet peeps, like me, someone who hates music and loud noise. So I am not ready to move yet, but soon, this is what I will in fact be doing, just I did in 1984, leaving 506 Robin Hill Apartments, in Voorhees, New Jersey; for 1406 Highland Avenue, in Cinnaminson, New Jersey, W—O—W.

Despite all the hell, I made back all my lost units in my Systems-Roulette, as I said before, and have made a small March profit of 28 and a half freaking units. If I had not lost those 48 and a half units on that day before the Dow Jones CROSSED-OVER into all time RECORD HIGH TERRITORY, that caused that magnetic disaster to happen to me, I would have a March total profit of 76 units, or in 1986 money in Atlantic City, $7,600.00 cash money, on the black gaming level or one hundred dollar playing chips level. But this is of no consequence, and beginning right now today, I am not going to be playing roulette on paper any more, and am making plans to get to South America before the RUN AWAY SONG WARNING strikes twice, and just ask the mother fucking empire State building how many times it gets struck by Diana Micronesian Arteemis every year, and then the idea of striking just twice will not seem strange and foreign to any of you, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!! And please, no 1988 McDonald bouncing around dancers, TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now moving right along here good people, Lenny McKinnon and his friends from the late seventies, were just a small part of my nearly 60 years of life as Mountainpen, but several powerful things involved with this dude, has altered my life in ways too major and incredible to be intelligently discussed in any one short blog work. The powerful people who Scott Ransom was referring to about 8 years after Lenny McKinnon's paths crossed mine making this the time circa of 1988; may very well be the greatest male Disco scum bags of their day, the BG's. I have come to learn just since residing here in Florida and away from an entire life up in Jersey; that this record promoter had made some kind of a secret deal behind my back, with Levy and Gibb, giving them the right to my song, 'Lost Love', written and copyrighted by me back in fucking ass 1978. It is all there in the Copyright Office, but this work when lovely Donna Patterson re-did it for me, along with her friends, Albert Pileggi, Jan Nace, Robert Andrews, and Mister Russell of the Russell Music School across from the Garden State Race Track, in those 1980 times, no longer operating under that name now and for quite a while, however good folks; you will not see my 1975 or 1977 copyrights on 'LOST LOVE' and 'SPIRIT PEACE' songs, on my recently posted Copyright Public Record Form, on my blogs, as it only goes back into 1978 on that particular form. They have the other two copyrights from 1975 and 1977 as well as my book from Halloween Day of 1994, called, ''The Permission Barrier'', on separate forms, so they have informed me. I merely pass on this information to my Blogging Audience, or my blogaud, for short.

But the big pan lick is yet to come, and will only just open up a gateway into your thinking, if you allow the process to begin in your mind, called enlightenment; that is. What I will tell you now good people is not from any book or person, no guru on top of the Himalayan Mountains told me, no great mystical being appeared at my bedside, no dream, no meditation, no altered states of mind awareness, and ''no nothing'', if I can quote lovely Diana Ross, from 1983. Before I go directly to it, something else will be told, that will dovetail real nicely, and leading perfectly into the topic. Before my father 'turns the page and dies', Paul Michaels; or before Sidney Crown 'has my voice recorded', back in 1969, to keep me from doing mischievous mirror tricks; all this shit you see on fucking TV about kids doing really bad shit, and becoming monsters, is a lode of fucking crap; as I did a lot of shit that was real bad, and so have most of my family members, and let me tell you something. If it ever all came out, Ziggy, it would not be simply awesome or monstrous, or reprehensible, or unspeakable. It would be what no possible human language would ever be able to create, and that my friends and fiends out here, is total fucking GOSPEL! WOLF, WOLF, WOLF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Trump this if you can, and see if you can make your mark on the world, the way this dude has done. Oh yes Jill MacInaley, your lovely Gong-Show twin Shorty MacInvondi Trump, is right up all our asses, at C-SQ! I will most definitely get much more specific and detailed on things that pertain to PHASED ENTITIES from the spirit world (Astral-Plane), such as Shorty MacInvondi, who used me to bring their life force into the human waking dream-world, as opposed to the normal dreaming of getting born and living as a baby and a toddler and a child and an adolescent and then an adult and then stop dreaming completely one day, just waking up where they really are. I will also tell you that the more math and science you have under your belts, the better you can relate to what I am about to shock you with, and you will not like it, know that right now. Would you really like me to lie to you and insult you that way, or tell it up front and straight out, people? I mentioned that I have a near absolute memory on a conscious level, minute to minute, from the present point, all the way back to my birth. It is not all fragmented and in pieces. You will not like it when I tell you why memory is for the most part, that way with most of you out here. You will want to die once I tell it, and if you can even grasp a small part of the truth that I am about to impart. Except for a few small times when I totally know that I was interfered with by way of STM (SPACE-TIME-MIND), I have a totally interference-proof, closed private circuit. They cannot mess with me, not for a long time yet when I eventually age and fail in this lifetime, and begin to no longer keep the ES out of my system with a password. All of you are open circuits. You are all living totally password unprotected. You have billions of dollars in mind accounts in an invisible computer that you leave on and with no password protection operating, and go outside, and the Exploratronic Supermind comes in each time you exit your residence, and they get on and do a million things to you. Now I am not being literal here, this is a parable, just like my sixty-first grandfather's Uncle Jesus Carpenter used to use so he could relay powerful truths kept hidden by the conscious collective of the waking hyperspace reality in three dimensions. Your 4-5-D is totally protected, but in your waking life, you have a million gapped out pieces, and each piece leaves you vulnerable to a STM interference by the ES (Exploratronic Supermind). Only a few exceptions have occurred, and world, it is by this powerful great family, every single time. It is all on previous blogs. It happened to me and was done by them, and the last three most recent strikes were as follows: Ed Lynch and I went to Atlantic City to take photos for use on my Morianity-Foundation web-page, in October of 2006, and we both were memory gapped out, by family member Robert McGuire. Sarah Callio and McGuire, family members, were also involved back on 7 February in 1997, they cannot take that away from me, as on that date the DJIA fell about 50 points because I was able to make contact with this incredible family, but when it did me no good, the market instantly rebounded and shot back up, you can check and verify this information online somewhere on some Wall Street Journal Newspaper or similar periodical source in an archive from your local library. Anywho, I had just asked Sarah her last name, and maiden name, and she said Callio, quite reluctantly; and then they both made me totally forget that name as I drove down Tennessee Avenue, before I came to the first intersection, Pacific avenue. Every single time you cannot remember one single minute of your time, you are a computer in the hands of a cosmic hacker using a future known reality called STM, to invade your beingness, and make continuous alterations in your waking life, that effect the entire interaction of you and me, and all of us as a whole, or a conscious waking collective. Any tiny time that you cannot pull up in your waking mind, you most likely have been on a trillion trillion trillion journey's inside of those fragmented pieces of reality, with an unknown to this time period club and group, that will indeed come to be known as the cosmic EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND, or the ES. Going back to my fourth gap out, where a significant part of my day cannot be recalled, is on the day of my medical appointment with the throat specialist just off of Grant Avenue ion Northeast Philadelphia, back early in 1984. I was not the one all hung up with those audio tapes, and those who were, all know this is totally the truth. You made the big deal out of it, I was only as far as the 'MY' coming out on the copyrighted ''Real Good girl'' song in August of 1986. Munch on this a while, good folks, and watch those black ops choppers, as they do come into urban areas, David Roth and I witnessed a fleet of them right near the old Sears building that they later imploded, also in N.E. Philly-57-vampire sticks that fly, huh Snyder?

This is just a pan licking folks, this is not the big nice batch of fudge or cookies or cake. This only scratches a surface on shit that I could type on and on until the blog was 1000 Moby fucking dick book lengths long, YO. So in the interest of my getting a little shut eye now, I bid you all a fond ado. I am wasting my time with suicide, hell goes beyond death!!!