CHAPTER LI, MORIANITY PART V

5:24 PM-EDST

SATURDAY EVENING AND ANOTHER BOTBAR AND SIEGE

TWENTY APRIL, TWENTY-THIRTEEN

BEGINNING THRANSMISSION:

I WAS PUNISHED FOR POSTING CHAPTER 50, GOOD FOLKS, BIG ASS TIME. I HAD AN ELECTRICAL POWER OUTAGE THIS MORNING FOR AN HOUR THAT FUCKED UP MY “LAW AND ORDER” TELEVISION SHOW, AND SCREWED UP MY CLOCKS AND WOKE ME FROM SLEEP, AND DOORS ARE SLAMMING BY THIS ILLEGAL DIRT BAG WHO I WAS TOLD IS NOT LEGALLY PERMITTED ON THESE PREMISES, ONLY WE ALL KNOW THAT THERE ARE MANY FOLKS WHO THUMB THEIR MOTHER FUCKING NOSE AT RULES AND LAWS, AND FLATTEN PEOPLE'S TIRES, DO ALL MANNER OF PROPERTY DAMAGE, AND MAKE A HOBBY IF NOT A FULL TIME OCCUPATION OUT OF WICKEDLY FUCKING DESTROYING OTHER PEOPLE'S ENTIRE LIVES, YEAR AFTER YEAR. THE POWER BEHIND THIS EVIL, LAYS IN ONLY ONE PLACE ON THIS ENTIRE MOTHER FUCKING GLOBE, AND THAT IS ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY, HACKED OR NOT, ETTOS OR NON ETTOS HIT, DE GAMA MCGUIRE, YOU PILE OF BIOLOGICAL PURE WASTE AND SCUM.

If my friend, whoever it may be, who gave me the nice review on the WFMU HATESITE on me, is out here, let me take a second to address the one interesting thing you did say on your comment, regarding how I may be nearly a thousand and a half miles away from this dirt bag place, Atlantic City, yet still feel the effects. Did you ever hear that we are all now in the age of jet travel? These people have money, these people have power, they have friends all over the place, some right here in Fort Pierce up in the hood and even in the prison system. I had a dude named BOO call me from my local Saint Lucie County jail, right after I bought my daughter's DVD, the 2009 movie, P. After I viewed it and while still in utter shock, I went to retrieve some phone messages, and one was from the PSL County jail, a prisoner named BOO. Naturally I did not call back to find out what that was all about. Folks, I am scared to death of MC, she is all powerful, she hates me, and before this is all over, I totally know this nation will experience the next new OJ TRIAL, and I will be the one killed down here, and not by Santa, the Easter Bunny, or the Highview Cheer Apartments Disney lady, Kirshty, all though that big lovely witch could kill me with one hand tied behind my back. The guy on the phone on my AT&T message was a 100% VM done at a lab back then from a friend, with the dude on my kid's 2008 CD, 100%. He had the CD, I lost my copy, Dawn 20-Spaghetti Bowell Blacks in the Military drumbeats of 1983, stole my copy from me while I was Stockholm Syndrome Kidnapped and living there with the family at 65-A Middle Road in Blu-Berry-Ville, New Jersey.

I HAVE ONE HELL OF AN IMAGINATION, PRESIDENT O. Wow, if I could really do all of this, you should have me over with the Queen someday, you know, the whole deal with the tea and the crumpets, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!

PLEASE HELP ME FLORIDA AG, PAM BONDI, P-L-E-A-S-E. I am really honestly scared to death of my wild daughter, and HER WILD FRIENDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sharkey Marky may or may not be the greatest fish in the whole dam bay, but he has the evilest trashy bottom feeder neighbors across the hallway from him. Yes folks, I am putting up with them slamming in and out all day, and it still is going on at nearly 3 AM, and if it does not quit, I'll call the fucking CRIME STOPPERS number, that was given to me by Resident Manager, Misses Debbie Marotto.

PHOTO IS COURTESY OF THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY. THANK YOU IN ADVANCE FOR THIS SHOT.

I have dozens of huge things to tell, that WOMO, I assure you; does not want out and told; if they don't get off of me, Angels A, W, and Millie. WAYWINY, LILLY MUNSTER?

These dirt bags are all connected with the computer shit in this building, and the security guard rotation force. When I told what I told, they attacked me huge time, you can all be a witness to the way I say things, and then get instantly punished and pummeled by WOMO-MILITUFORCE right directly afterward.

There is no real true supernatural, and all of religion and church shit is garbage, but the idea behind it is moral and honest, and I find no fault with the fact that folks are still swinging from trees, carrying little self contained mini universes called compuphone's, in many other dimensions ODF reality. NOT ODF, OF REALITY, HACKER MS SCUZ! When you go into a movie theater to watch the show called, “EARTHQUAKE”, huge sub-woofers shook the entire viewing area, simulating a real quake. There really was not one happening, but the illusion that there in fact was one happening, was very very fucking real. We all are tricked and fooled by sensory illusion, constantly and continuously, and even relentlessly. There is no devil called SATAN, but there may as well be, and THIS is a truth that the churches will eventually come to see and realize. For all intense and purposes, there is A SATAN, but still, Lenny, there isn't an actual devil with horns and a pitch fork in a burning furnace of fire that is named HELL. Hell, and HEAVEN, words for great so-called after-life 'places', are not places at all, they are simply CONDITION-INTERACTIONS. Again, it may as well be real places. You would never know the difference if you were hooked up to a trillion dollar super virtual reality video-game, with brain connect scan technology; so that while you enter and play, your only memory of self is right there inside of that game; just as entering this world through the Astral birth dream; produces this seemingly, in like manner. Dennis Snyder would say it perfectly right about now, as should he be here, and saying all of this, as opposed to me; “That's reality, son”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ladies and gentlemen, I'll give you some powerful GAGA CAT Q&A later on, but not on this blog. What I will close out with is simply this. Hopefully Mrs. Shoemaker and daughter Tracy, won't make any trouble for deer sweet little old me, who tries so hard all the time just to be free, but if it does happen, I'll deal with that another time, Youtube.

Every secret I reveal, the enemy punishes me back in a precise way that pertains to the details of that secret. Anyone following this for at least 6-12 months now, and cannot see this is true, along with how true all of my claims are; is simply in a comfy-zone-denial in their spirit, as they read the words of MORIANITY. Fine, you have a right to do and think as you please, and I have no problem with that. Still, I do know that that the majority who read my words, can see through the lies and do in fact know that I indeed am really truly being persecuted by some unknown beyond alien group of very very very distant foreign travelers. The only pieces in the jig saw puzzle that have any hope of fitting into a good explanation, is the games of the gods for distraction purposes; as well as to keep it all organized, and under their total control. Any truth should be revealed, and none should be intentionally buried and covered up, as they are currently being. Take the truth away, and all that be left is various degrees and forms of lacking sanity. Collectively as a species, humanity has a side effect of growing overly complex and technical on an ever increasing upward linear if not geometric sized scale. This would be none other than forcing truths, rearranging lies to become new age truths, and so forth, again, without what really is being what we all agree to perceive to be true, we have nothing. We may think we own a very high teck world and be super rich, and maybe even somewhat happy; but again, there is that pesky three syllable word again, ILLUSION! It does not matter where or what I live, work, go, do, and so forth. The Assistant to New Jersey Congressman Robert Andrews in 1998, Mister Clarence Harris, knew how real this powerful truth was in his own life, and never doubted it for a second in mine; as he could relate personally. There is an IF or an Interaction-Force that takes control, and makes gold slowly turn to rust and smelly garbage, if I am in any way connected into it; a subject that could be thousands of pages long, and not scratch all that much of even an ice shaved surface. But a few constants are right there in my face. The tit for tat retaliation that all started in 1986, along with the escalation of my major fucking hellish nightmare problems to begin with; PROVES and VERIFIES beyond one speck of miniscule doubt, that this is all a game of the gods, as Morianity has preached all along since it began in early 2006. Still, why me and not all of you? This is the all time Shakespearean question. Let us explore this.

If Shakespeare was correct even slightly, about the entire world being a stage, and us being the actors in a play here, and I know that he was told this by the gods in some form of slightly off of normal mind awareness state, be it a dream or meditation, or whatever; then we all have been given a roll to play, a four dimensional script to act out our part in an interactive menu various choices way, and so on and so forth. We do not bring this to surface waking mental level as we go through our waking times and live our parts in this Shakespeare play arena, but we play our parts nonetheless. Just as we breathe in and out, with rarely any conscious attention ever paid to it. Same exact thing folks. Before anyone totally judges the claims made in the Morianity teachings, you need to read all of the books ever written by one of the great nineties new age guru founding fathers, Carlos Castaneda. Then we can talk again and when I tell of a lot of stuff such as the Lambrigg Cult all meeting on this physical realm without knowing or remembering each other, merely being subconsciously driven to join the EW group, and all eventually and gradually carry out the great new age mind control, spoken of by me in my 1986 “Real Good Girl” music project that I copyrighted. You can see this as the title to a group of songs and matching the LOC catalog of my songs for 1986, in the blog's enclosed list that I CAP in. Rather than go on and on and really say next to nothing for most readers at their dimly lit stage of awareness levels, let me try cutting to the chase. We have an existence of our truer self-entity, on the Astral-Plane, or the spirit world. This entity self or 'soul', is way to large and complicated, for any one universe to contain it; so it breaks up into countless amounts of various ones, where they then are all dreamed eventually, into various separate life-times, down in the fifth dimensional hyperspace. This is the vast area containing virtually limitless numbers and amounts of space-time 4-D universes, all operating on slightly different but agreeing atomic frequencies. Now I told of the towel example, and how localized other nearby realities, all seep together in strange ways, just as a soaking wet towel would also seep its wetness into other surrounding towels that lay around it and touch it at some point. Very soon, if harassment keeps up, I will make up real examples, showing these towels in action, and then showing my life here as well as in surrounding localized hyperspace. It is all one big us you know, and separate parts of our 'soul' living in unlimited parallel realities, does not mean a total disconnect in the lives of our many localized doppelganger other-us's. All ready, my blogs show all sorts of dry towels around the one central wet one, but only a few are getting it, and putting the 2 and the 2 properly together, and arriving at the proper 4 answer. 3.9999999 won't cut it. It may as well be 26.00029384756. Knowing what I have come to know about this topic, can be related to a lottery winning number. One number wins it. Every other number, far away or off by one digit; are all equally losing numbers, not counting the way the system operates the cash payout's for near misses. I simply mean that any wrong answer, a little or a lot wrong, is still equal to a wrong answer, and that there only can ever be one correct answer, to any problem mathematically. Now my trying to post up my song, a year long try now, last week, at the library in West Fort Pierce; not only failed and caused a nasty BOTBAR day for me, but also, was punished. It is just a simple little ditty about a greedy fisherman, who refuses to share his catch with a starving family, who encounters him on a fishing jetty one day, and then later, a storm blows up and knocks him off the jetty to his death, where in the after-life, as mortals see it, he is saddened to see he no longer can have any fish to eat, despite being surrounded with such an incredible abundance of it. But we all know that this is more than a song telling a cute little story. The WOMO has a vested interest, or so it would appear, to keep me blocked and unable to ever do what normal 9 year old's do every day like it's nothing. Some may think this is supernatural, others that I am just either crazy and think this is all happening when it is a mere delusion, don't I wish; or they figure, wow, what a total retard, all he has to do is get a book on how to work the Youtube at the library; only my fucking brain is not wired to be taught without a real live instructor or teacher. So the enemy has me covertly by my thrill rocks, and they know it, and they fucking laugh at me every dam ass day. It's after four now, I'm tired, and I need to fucking crash. Yes, this blog is hit a lot, but my Youtube channel, http://youtube/paulaking2011/ is never hit, maybe once or twice every month, one song is hit. It seems that after I took down the original postings in middle 2011 after moving in here to this PHA apartment, and doing this, it caused a strange thing to happen where nobody can get to my music, and or, they just do not have any desire to ever go and listen to it, even though the blogs would make a lot more sense if viewers would listen to the music posted, as it tells true stories that will match stuff from this blog. Do I have any answers for just what is causing this? NOPE, not even a clue. Maybe ten or so wild theories, and they all together and three dollars, will get me 12 shinny quarters, any time, at any bank. I could not help seeing how one of the two brothers who caused so much havoc, back on Monday up in Boston, has a Youtube account and is only 19 years old, and has four digit hit counts on his posts, while I am lucky if my average post has had 3-6 hits, all other counts above that are my views, and or CAPPING links to blogs, as this all creates a view, and is counted. I am left to wonder why a murderer has 4 digit hits, and I am getting maybe 4 on one post, and 5 on another; and so forth; on an account I have had up since the 30^th of December of 2010, almost two and a half years now. They stopped allowing me to blog share to blogger one day back last year in 2012, and I could go on. I know my stuff is somehow covertly being as sanctioned and blocked from stumble on views, as is possible. Many have also told me for a long time, that they gave up trying to get to my stuff from their computer, it just leads to nothingness. If I can ever prove this, I'll have a case for First Amendment Legal Issues, impeding my freedom of speech, and I don't even post major stuff such as hate core and really heavy anti-anything stuff, it is just normal music, that tells stories of my life, in small and clever ways; that is if it is listened to carefully. Hay, I am happy for those who get a million and 90 million views, but why am I getting 5? This has to be some form of a blockade, and this clearly legally is in violation of some rights that I know that I must have somewhere in this great country's constitution. You cannot watch the news one day without the anchors telling how people post something, and it virals out to a million or more hits in just days. I do not go after that amount, but why can't I get 2-6 thousand for example, who is stopping me? I do intend to hire an attorney, and see if I can indeed ever get to the bottom of it all, after-all, if this case is ever won, it would put me and my Morianity, on the map; and then I could get my message out to the world, and that is all that I have ever wanted to do; as then I would have friends on my side of this nightmare fight, and folks that would all band together, to help each other against tyranny and oppression, of any and all forms and kinds, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sit back and enjoy, folks.

Before two years of these blogs were done, all of the basic information in Morianity was out. There will always be possible additions as life moves on in my present incarnation of beingness. Only stones don't change, so why would this not be the case? Well, that is soaking wet with liquid truth, and yet even more than that is going on, and stones do change. People say when you die, you stop aging. I use this as a quick example of something. That is entirely untrue. You stop aging in a biological sense, but while the dead body and remains of what we were, sits on a slab, or is buried in a tomb; the universe is aging, so thereto are the remains aging, cosmically and not biologically, but even the rocks around the cemetery, all are aging, and will eventually crumble away. Only stopping the motion of the worlds and the inner working of them, stops the clock, another scientific term for this state in the laboratory, is called, “Absolute Zero”. When things are frozen, they don't move, and they do not change. Change is age, as well as many other things. This all fits nicely into many things that have been said in Morianity, only in-between the lines more than direct and bluntly. One thing I will be touching on with this particular blog, is the middle nineties, and what may have led to a significant alteration in my life, that no ordinary 'midlife-crisis' or other Millionth-Council nonsense, can be used as an overly simplistic explanation, or even excuse. I have come right out and said one of many over-the-head beliefs in Morianity, that there is but one real true point of reality, and change and age is merely this point with a little before 'something' now existing behind it, that was not there before. This can send chills up a spine at 186,282 SMPS, especially if really grasped and properly understood. The few times that a person seriously begins contemplating what time really is, or what is forever and along these lines; a quick spark jumps up and enters into our consciousness, from the deeper all knowing beneath the consciousness omniscience, that we all ARE. Depending on individual level of 'enlightenment', this plants a seed, and at another time, the same thoughts begin to roll around in the mind, and again, a little more and a little more starts creeping into normal human waking awareness. Surviving enough hellish existence accelerates this process, like throwing expensive garden feeding chemicals onto our lawns and flowers. Normally a limit exists where only so much can be tolerated, so much physical pain before a death results, or so much mental anguish before total insanity takes over. But as Christian scriptures cleverly teach the 'enlightened' folks, something bigger than death is out there, and there may be a hundred names for it the world over. On this blog, when not saying DOGTOWN, it is refered to no differently in Morianity than in Christianity; and that word is HELL. For reasons that go beyond my surface awareness at present, I survived more than what it takes to remain sane by human standards, and can prove it when forced to do so someday by the authorities; and this means that my life, my physical life on this physical plane reality, has become HELL. This did not happen in 1986, nor did it happen during the beyond monstrous horrendous years to follow into the nineties, and up as far as the middle of the decade. Then, suddenly, with or without any shopping at Walmart or seeing or hearing or music related nonsense, something happened to me, that was explained by the so-called know it all degreed people in authority, as a mid-life crisis. Well, fine and well, only this was one mother fucking hell of a mid-life crisis, Mary Carter initials of inescapable proportions, with or without magical McVeigh paint projects, classified or unclassified, pillow talker Daddy. This is what I wish to talk about at this 'present-point' on this blog, the mid-life crisis of 1995, and without any Youtube joking around, or songs, or harbors, or eggs, or Rodney's, or phone calls, or warnings, or any other pieces and parts of Atlantic City, New Jersey, and its great County, here in America, that contains this GREAT CITY, the mirror image in a microcosm of ISIS and her true great city known Astrally, as Sahasra Dal Kanwal. This is a human English translated pronunciation, it means, the “City of the great Sarah-Stacey Krassle”. Before going on farther with 1995 and the start of all of this beyond incredible bullshit nightmare, let me tell you folks, that I don't like discussing current events and politics all that much, and did give a warning that the middle part of 2013 will mysteriously get dark and bad, and this is all just the start of it. I also told, and warned, that people are their own worst enemy. If they choose to not believe me on powerful issues, then when shit goes all wrong and rotten, just don't blame me, or expect me to cry a single tear. If I had my way, the laws of physics would make things like bombs and guns, be as in that old original Star Trek show, with the light beings, who stopped the Klingon's and the Federation from fighting, while maintaining the appearance of simple sheep herd folk. But this is fictional, and stuff does go bang in the night, and the daytime as well. My second choice would be that magically, only the cops and the army's would have such things, others simply would not and could not. Again, this is not reality. But I told a while back that if the authorities do not begin to carefully scrutinize and examine, why the world is getting crazier and nuttier all the time, and more and more of this kind of stuff is happening; then it will not stop. You can not legislate a bomb throw, a murder, a gun going off, or even hatred and craziness; but what can be done, is a thorough research study of many things that are totally ignored today, such as Morianity and my own story for one example. Oh I'm quite sure I'm on many lists of watched people, you cannot say all the shit I've said and not be; but that is just more anti-freedom, and in fact, in its own way; all this shit becomes LEGALIZED TERRORISM, to quote my wonderful treasure salver father, or expanding the scope of his saying of 'legal thieves', referring to most of WASH-DOC, and hay, I am just quoting a man, a loyal serviceman who fought for his country during WW2. I despise the evil and cruelty and injustice on this planet; and much of it has been aimed right directly at me; down to the copyrighting of my song 'LOST LOVE' a year after it should be, to keep me from ever making a stink about Robin Gibb and Marcy Levy, perhaps; but we know what is happening, don't we fortune filthy 500, and wicked evil EW (Entertainment World) or industry? There is no record of Tom Glenn arranging the song either, and yet I sent an open reel tape down to be copyrighted in the early summer in 1980, containing all 4 demo tunes; The Morning Light, Lost Love, Love So High, and Long River Blues; and the 'EW' blasted into this project, and stole around it, like rats off of a sinking ship. I do not have one good thing to say about that rotten stinking cheating evil industry; as they can all go straight to fucking DOGTOWN for a thousand MK. But back to other evil. I tried hard to tell those that I know listen and read this blog of Mountainpen, not wanting to take advantage of the suffering, but when else will it all hit home as good, as when an incident happens? We all know that a traffic light is only constructed out of blood. You beg the township for 30 years, then finally three little kids are hit and killed by a speeding car. Then the traffic light comes. That is just the sad way of the world, and we all know it. Instead of putting me on a list, as I am quite sure I am on, those who I used to pay my taxes to, should contact me directly, and be genuinely desirous to know my true story, but no, Washington, we can't have ALL THESE POWERFUL SECRETS EXPOSED, oh no, forget that one, YO. And when the truth is right in your face, you will all see it or hear it a little off, and say, nah, can't be, similar yeah, now onto the next thing for the day. Well, I have no power to stop anything. But this is why terrorism has become so horrible since the nineties, because fucking people just won't listen to those who shout and scream out for help, so one day, they do the unthinkable, and go blow a mall up. Well, don't worry about me you sick arrogant bastards, as I do not intend to spend my life in a prison, or a sike ward; but I sure did try and help, and nobody would listen, not even my great pal in the Julia Mansion. You won't do it the way you tried, even if you had gotten the votes, sir. The human condition needs addressing big time, folks like me, with huge unspeakable nightmare problems, ignored; hoping we'll all just eventually go away and vanish, and most of us do. The trouble is that 1% don't, so things end up going boom. This is just good advise and a lesson in Morianity, advanced 102, by no means to be taken as any kind of a threat. I bring truths, not threats. Now back to my Mary Carter Crises of unending eternal initials. By the way, I never said that I believe that conventional psychiatry is the total answer, as did anyone ever take a survey on the suicide rate of these whacky ass doctors? I have. Now let us move on, WHAAAA!

1994 was a very magical year for me, and I had two others like it in my life at both that time, and still to this day, there have been but three of these type of years in my pathetic mother fucking life, 1969, 1980, and 1994. Spacing in time from 1969, this was 11 years and 14 years after each of the preceding one that the next one occurred. That is why I was hopeful that the mathematical pattern of adding three years to eleven, might kick in again; only it did not, and 2011 was a horrible horrible mother fucking nightmare year for me. In any case, so was 2012, and normally, things do not tend to work out all that great for me on the following years in this mathematical pattern, you know 1969 plus 11, plus 14, plus 17. Even though the 2011 year did not happen the way I had hoped it might, based on this pattern activity; the next-year shit sure did, as in 1970, 1981, 1995, 2012. I will miss out on the next nightmare after-year, at least according to ISIS, as in a 'dream' she promised me that I would be released from this nightmare life as Mark Wayne Mohr in 2031, and so, fuck 2032. Of course, she has enjoyed teasing me since she was 2 years old in this life, and before that, in many others as well, but I am still friggin hoping for the best, so I can do my 18 and out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho, back to the Mid-life Crisis, and another wonderful MC. This is not something that can be told, bing, bang, boom, and done, but again, I can start to open a door on this blog, and then later, the room beyond can be more thoroughly explored, good folks.

I was living at the Highview Apartments, owned by Philadelphia slum-lord Maria Shoemaker and her hubby. Now a child can use their eyes and see something powerful in the last sentence, and we are too smart to even touch it, YO!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho peeps, Ace and purple not withstanding, TEE HEE HEE LILLY, learn to laugh at the wild symbolism world, any-ha; there are some key events and key figures involved in my so-called Midlife Crisis, one was the President at the time, one was an elderly entertainer of days gone by, and there were some others, and I cannot freely just give away the cake and divulge the whole dam rotten mess, or trouble would most definitely follow quite closely behind the posting of this blog. One thing led to another, and 1995 came in, and the magic of the great '94 year, where all sorts of great shit happened to me, began to disintegrate away with every bit the realness of any fictional fucking Harry Potter story. I wish I had the imagination of writers like James Patterson, and whoever this English lady is who did Potter, not my mom's old boss from the nineteen-seventies, but very interesting and powerful symbolism, if I do have to be the one leaning on my own horn, Lovely Lena, WHAAAAAAAAAAAA, AHA AHA AHA MMCN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here is the cracking open of the door. Some of it happened when I would meditate over at a place called National Park, then I would leave there and head for the Haddonwood Swim Club, and this is no normal place. This place has a real honest road that goes directly onto the Astral Plane, if you know how to access a secret underneath the creek behind the place. In any case, no one thing is the story, and no one powerful secret is being kept. This is literally a fucking nursery of baby secrets that live and breed and grow, and are heavily protected; maybe for all I know, by the great McGuire clan themselves, as they were not afraid to hire the OZ man, and I am afraid I just made a big ass mistake, typing this truth to you all right now. He also hired the other jerk off to take care of the first one, even the name has a symbolism to this jerked off behavior, WHAAAAAAAAABIT! If you do not believe in Alice's, looking glasses, reflectional time, magic Sidney King Crown, and independence, well; you won't believe in all this Santa Claus Easter Bunny stuff either for the most part. All that matters to me right this minute good folks, is that I totally know that it is all the truth, and that I have made it all a public record, cleverly of course; but it's up here now, screw the results, Aunt Tea, as I expect things to get worse, trees, burning bushes, and barking wolf WOLF wolves. Well, now that I've committed literary suicide, let me end tonight's lesson with this little finish line that won't explode at least, well, not in your face, maybe mine. Herby Letts, David Selby, and Lifeguard Albright, all know what this little squib is about. If you had helped me Herby, you prick, things would have been so different, and there are no trillion words to tell it. I may be joining Adrian Donna Summer without needing the F-6/10, but here goes, Brad Ice. There is no way McGuire would do all of this, to his own cousins as well as to me, the father of one of them, if it was not all about saving something on a cosmic scale. This family is a cosmic family, many folks in WASH-DOC totally know this is the truth. There were those who tried to bring this out around the time before my midlife crisis took hold, and nobody even remembers it, like the magic of 10-SC Avenue, only it was done with ETTOS, and without the Illum Club, and broadcasting networks; as they could not legally get these sound waves, and the gods only know what else out there; to effect the entire mass populations. Now let me shut the fuck up, Professor Jackson, and Shorty Gong MacInvondi, before the entire planet is struck with a moon size meteorite, Miss Tessmocker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Good night and pleasant dreams, Ann Reese and Bobby Witherspoon, and many many many others. I have nothing against anyone, so do not take it personally that I got off of the FACEBOOK. I have no time for childish games, I am not 16 years old forever and ever and ever. AHA AHA MMCN!

Jesus Christ, where is my talking treadmill? I've got some weight to take off, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

THE GREATEST FISH IN THE WHOLE DAM BAY, HAS SOME MORE TO SAY, FOLKS, ON THIS CHAPTER, LISTEN UP, YO.

First off, my asshole nabes are not only annoying, but I have forgotten about something they did to me, and have been meaning to blog it for six weeks or so now, give or take. Somebody is playing with my mind and memories, sound like McGuire is in town, K-MART of Fort Pierce? Hay, opposite the highway where they are, is indeed, another Tennessee Avenue, I mean as Lenny Briscoe might chime in here, “But still”. Lots of hollering and in and out, and strange shit as well. I got off the elevator today after coming home from some errands that YOU WILL MOST DEFINITELY BE MADE PRIVY ABOUT, it is beyond mother fucking ass major ladies and gentlemen, and whatever else is out here. Aniwho, I get off the elevator, there are two elevators, and am in the area of these elevators, all seven floors have the halls leading down to apartments on the west side, and also, the east side, and there is a lot more to the story than this, or New York City. AHA AHA AHA MMCN (Mike McNulty)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Before I do get into it, this is another super BOTBAR DAY, and many powerful negative shit ass things all culminated together to cause it, but all things considered, the lulu botbar days of April so far, are not in any way a comparison or a contest to the ones in March, by this time here in center month. On top of the shit, it was very humid and fairly hot, mid eightyish, feeling 100, at least to mother fucking me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck you, adding 'ISH' to the 80, was acceptable when I was growing up, or shall I say, in the fucking cunt eating universe I used to live in, as boy has this been a CROSS OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I used to sort of wonder, then wonder a bit harder and stronger, but no more. This is not where I used to live, before the greatest fish in the bay CROSSED OVER THE GREAT ACADEMY OF THROATS or WHATEVER, Congressman Robert, old pal, and SIR!!!!!!!!!!

The contents of this blog focus on quality, not quantity. It will not be ten trillion words in length, but it will do its share of hard punching, so if you are not in the mood for this, hit the “NEXT BLOG” button right now, thank you. First off, I will tell you why the STOCK FUCKING MARKET SHOT WAY UP AGAIN TODAY, probably placing it now over the big 15000 point mark. It is because, once again, I WAS SCREWED IN A MUSIC DEAL. Again, I tried to get some help posting my “YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER” song, the full song not the harmony track, up to my account at the web address http://youtube/paulaking2011/ so what the fuck else is new? This is all just a tiny miniscule mother fucking part of why our former POPE, came almost to the door of the home owned by Judge Frank Raso, on Middle Road, back up in Hammonton, New Jersey, USAESMWG. He also owned many others, including the rooming-house on Central Avenue, in town there, where the King family was renting and living in before we all moved in together at 65-A Middle Road, Your Eminence. Before we hop on over to the hub, yes there are interesting things that never ever have been discussed and or blogged, such as the initials being yet ANOTHER MILLIONTH COUNCIL coincidence, moving from Council Central Avenue, to Millionth Middle Road, right Mary Carter McVeigh Paint Company, AHA AHA Mister McNulty-'71?????

Hay, the name of this blog is not Resorts International Hotel and Casino, or Donald Rottenslob Trump, no sir, it is Morianity Part Five, Chapter Forty-Eight. My opinion of the entire Lambrigg Cult, CUZZ, you and all the rest of this gang of shit from fucking hell, is thisssssssssssssss, Mizz Lucci:

Inward snort, exhaled gross out throat sound, thueey! Filthy thieving garbage, with a lot of awards on their wall, and endless egos in their mirrors; don't do a lot for me. In fact; they don't do one blessed thing for me, and never did. Why you ever wanted to join this scum bag gang from hell, PP, is beyond my limited intellect, and I'll openly fucking cunt admit it, YO. Now I need to move this along to the events of the day, beginning with the asshole at the elevator.

I got off one of the two elevators and so did a lady with me who was speaking to me about how hot it was and how slow these elevators travel, and when we got off, we just finished up our talk, as she is on the east hall or wing of the building, and I am the far west apartment facing the north side. Before I go on, I need to thank my wonderful beautiful LIGHTNING GODDESS, for coming over to visit me again the other day; bringing her awesome scrumptious bolts of gorgeous electron channels in the skies out beyond the windows of my crummy little PHA apartment, lighting up everything with unfathomable color, and beautiful fractal patterns; all CG, no ribbons. Aniwho, back to the magicians trick at the elevator. Suddenly, out of nowhere, my dirt bag nabe across from me was just there with this lady and me, only he did not get off of either our elevator, or the other one, or Ida seen it. We were standing right there, and yet, I moved a few yards, and there he was; right at the other elevator; only it never came up to the floor and opened, or if it did, I was 'McGuire'd', AGAIN (ETTOS-HACKED)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now, there is more to this, but remember, I am coming in at this point, so the stuff I have yet to tell you about while I was out, is still all coming. I merely want this typed so I will not be McGuire'd into forgetting again and again to tell something that what I first open with about these nabe-scum, follows, and all pertains to music, computers, and the Dell Security Guard who was supposedly going to help me with my stuff once, and by help, I was not going to ask for a freebie, I would have handed him 50 bucks for doing maybe three hours work, and down here in Fort Ghetto Pierce, that is a prize to be taken and then run with; not ignored and spat upon, BRAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is the son of these people, who is not supposed to come here, by order of some court or something. I do not know the story, and it's none of my dick chewing business. All I know is that he appeared literally out of nowhere like many of my POP-UP and SEND-BACK entities have done since this all started in this new universe for me when I awakened into it on the morning of mother fucking August 15, 1986. I never saw him before today, only was told of him by Debbie, my Resident Manager. He walked ahead of me until we got half way to our location at the end area of the hallway, or almost, as there is one more unit on his south side, and opposite of that on my side is the stairwell. He then stopped and waved me to go around him, and I did, but he then walked on, and into the apartment across from me, as I already instinctively knew that he would. This is not psychic power, it is from living through 27 years of this fucking horseshit now since 08/15/86. You go through enough of this dirt bag WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE bullshit, and you will become super fucking sensitized to all of their little annoying tricks, and stupid “MY” parlor games!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So chop off my head, make me go dead, and TAKE ONE, BREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Or should I have said, © Office up in WASH-DOC, YO???????????????????? AHA, AHA, AHA, AHA, MMCN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! None of you have a small fucking clue how badly I want to just go full blast right now and dam all of the fucking ass consequences, really telling gargantuan shit, and all that can be backed up with real verifiable shit that you can all go up and see for yourselves. Hay, trust but verify, I get that, I am all for that, I PREACH THAT, so when I do tell you something, I will want you to verify it all, and I will provide you with the reliable sources of information so you indeed can go and check it out, without leaving the comfort of your high teck new universe, smart device, whatever it may be. Do it from your little ass phone in the shit stall of a public washroom for all I give a clit huffing hell, YO! Any-ha, moving this still onward, let us go back into time now, in this STM illusion of course, and begin with my walking out of the apartment door early this afternoon, good folks. I went to another library where I was told to go, and was treated shabby, and left within one minute. They even hassled me for having a fucking lolly pop in my mouth. Hay, maybe it's going to explode, Mister Ridge, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT. If you are out here Marge Leo, please, please, cut me a fucking break, will-ya????????????????????????????????

Before I forget to tell you, that night when I was trying to talk to the Dell Computer guard who sits at the desk on the ground floor of this PHA Building, who had nothing to do and is very busy all at the same time and maybe lost the love of his life as well; an inside joke between the Copyright Office and myself, if anyone there was there in 1980, that is; but that bitch across the hall from me, sneaked around, and I did tell you that much, she always snuck a peak to see if I was going down the hall, and I am quite sure she then called the guy as a double warning, as we have video surveillance on all floors, but when I came back up to my floor, after he was not there for the fourth time on his shift, as he should have been; when I got off the elevator; that bitch was right there in the elevator lobby area around just shy of 2 AM. I said hi to be polite, and she snubbed me. She has never ever said one thing to me, so from now on, I will never speak to that fucking bitch again. Even the guy there acts human. This is all when you put it all fucking together, why I got so paranoid. I am sure that the DELL gut was in phone communication with her, and when she saw I came back off the elevator and went back into my unit, she could call him again to give him the all clear, so he could resume his place at the security desk. I would bet 5000 fucking dollars double or nothing, anytime on that, with anyone. I would have 10 grand out of that deal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Any-ha, I was not helped one bit at the other library, and am planning to write a letter of complaint to the county about their rotten library service here, comparing it to the great wonderful fucking services provided in contrast, to the library systems of South New Jersey in several counties. This county library system totally SUCKS DICK, and I am entitled to my opinion, and I hope the authorities read this, and you too, my friend, Sheriff Ken Mascara. I should have every bit as much of a right to post up this song to the Youtube, as children have in elementary fucking school. But I do not, since nobody will show me the exact way to make music files, and how to upload them properly. All I am able to do is blog, e-mail, do searches, and cut and paste stuff. That is it, I can only do what I have been fucking shown, no more and no less. As I speak, my computer just got fucking hacked at 9:43 PM, Sheriff and AG Bondi. I'm not mother fucking imagining this illegal fucking cunt lapping persecution, and violation of my CIVIL AND HUMAN AND CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Anyone who can read this shit, ever since I figured out who has been doing this my entire life, after about two and a half years into my blogging career, and cannot see that she is somehow behind all this, is ignorant, blind, or one of the Illuminati infiltrates. This Earthly waking world doppelganger equivalent of the ASTRAL-PLANE LAMBRIGG CULT OF WOUSTERN TECKBAY, at Province Olympia, is the most evil and dangerous group of sick twisted mother fuckers in the known observable multiverse, (Many songs), as in universe, for single verse or single song. These many universes or songs vibrate, and friends of Ed Himacane Lynch know this, and have some really cool shit going on. I saw you dudes on the H-2 and the Science channels, you go GD, I would say you guys rock, but if I have to tell you that, something is wrong someplace, huh Donna Adrian Gaines???????????????????????????

Nothing worked today. Everything I tried to do fucked up except for getting some Publix ice cream on a nice BOGO sale, 20 for the price of 10, and also buying some frozen dinners. I tried getting some after season Easter candy at the local fucking 'Suddenly I see/hear' WM, and they were all out of it. It would have been three quarters off, it went fast undoubtedly at that steal-deal. I ran into an ex-coworker from the Harvest, at the parking lot of the library. We exchanged a quick hello. She was a cashier there along with Trinidad and me, well, Trinidad would do the bagging work, I stayed busy in the coolers or stocking the shelves. Still, I got that wild phone call from the county jail, and I don't know a soul down here, but they all fucking cunt know me, Camden County Prosecutor Ron Wirtz Senior, and Florida AG Pam Bondi. Halloween to you too, and you all scare me from here to Callio Ripoff Waltercowards of Botbarville!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What, did you think I wrote music about all of that too, lame brains? Unreal, folks. Still, Lenny Briscoe, my stories come out true, and tell Tracy Ullman I said so, and for that matter, lovely dish Stacey Lattisaw 2. Am I talking LOUDLY enough, lovely Ingrid?????????????????????????????????? 29 years have come and gone, AT&T, and 30 since the Annoyance Caller Bureau trapped my line, and did not want to mess around with Mork and Mindy, or hurricanes and Himacane's, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MSC thinks you're a has-been, maybe you need to make up a cool new two syllable alien word, or try speaking some of them while frenching on lovely Mindy, AHA AHA AHA AH, BREEEEEEE.

Yes peeps, you get a lot of advertising windshield wiper fliers down here in good old hot Fort Pierce. I have an entire library of unread crap in my back seat, no more dominating women to boss me around and control and own my car that belongs to me, not this fucking ass family of trillionaries and world owners, mostly covert, some out in the open. But still, Mister Detective Briscoe, here is a slightly new twist on windshield fliers. I was only in the library two minutes tops, and was told I could not have my lollypop, and that they could not help me with my music project. I have a medical condition and do not see how a lollypop in my mouth is going to hurt their library, Sheriff Mascara, but rules are rules, sir. When I came out, a flier was on the windshield, only it was not like the others that I get for business type bullshit of many various types. This one says, and I quote, “You better take your shitty music off the youtube, and you better not post your eighties song, or you're a dead man, ass-wipe”. I did not read it until I got to the Publix Grocery Store, as I said, normally I chuck these things unread, into the rear seat, and once a year, I take a trash bag to my car and clean out all my junk and throw it into my dumpster. But this looked very unique, it was made of a weird paper like nothing I have ever seen, as I touch it now, it is like 5 times the thickest Bond paper I've ever seen, and I've been around offices and seen real thick Bond paper. It is paper however, it is not any thin kind of cardboard or other material, as if ten sheets of paper were carefully all glued together. What next Harry Potter? Well, I was going to take my YOUTUBE account down, now I am not. I will get that song up there if I have to commit mass fucking murder to do it, folks. Take that to the TD NO-WOW-TRUCKS 4 POOR ME BANK, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO! Yes David Roth, old pal from 1985, just what are these fucking cunt eating rat bastards all so dam afraid of, about our music, and now that you are gone, spirits low or high, © Office, baby, baby, baby; MY music?????? I think the GEEK SQUAD will need to be called into service, and 4 now, E/T, and WOW!

Mark Wayne Mohr has made a lot of predictions in his life, that have not all come true, because of something known as HSE (Hyper-Space-Effect). This was discussed on earlier older blogs in Morianity. One thing that hyperspace effect has no control over or very little, is the situation that began for me in this universe, ever since waking up on August the fifteenth, back in 1986, into a parallel nightmare universe here, where I know I do not belong.

We can get into a lot more of this later. Right now, I have a question to anyone who ever viewed a blog or listened to a note of my music? Last Friday, the stock market just about hit 15,000 points, JUST AS I TOLD YOU ALL WOULD HAPPEN. I have not followed the news in a number of days, maybe a week, too busy with a lot of horrendous personal fucking bullshit, folks. MY QUESTION HOWEVER IS, AM I REALLY THE PROPHET OF 1988 NOTHING? OR, AM I, AS MY WONDERFUL OLDER KID WOULD PUT IT SO WONDERFULLY, “The greatest fish in the whole dam bay”?

I TOLD YOU THE DOW JONES WILL BE UP EVERY SINGLE DECADE BY ROUGHLY THE AMOUNT OF POINTS THAT CAN BE CALCULATED WITH A NINE DOLLAR FUCKING WALMART SUDDENLY SEEING OR HEARING CALCULATOR, AND A FEW TOUCHES OF THE BUTTONS. Simply find the percentage since this bull rally crossed over into 4 digits in early 1983, that it increases on average, each year up through around the year 2000. This is roughly 9% per year average. Now take your little calculator and keep going whatever the market was in 2000, times 109%=. The new number is your average 2001 point value. To get the 2002 value average, you take the 2001 value average, and again hit the (X) key, then hit 109, and then the percent and the equals key. To get 2003, do the same with the 2002 price, and so on. Whatever the price average between 1983 and 2000 is, I am guessing it was 9% average increased annually, this is where you can keep plotting it. It is not going to exactly show huge peaks and huge dips over 3-5 year periods that swing out beyond the average predicted low and high for the exact year, but that is how statistical mathematical equations work.

I AM QUITE SURE THAT 15,000 x 109% AND THEN THAT TIMES 109%, AND THAT TIMES 109%; WILL PRETTY MUCH BE WHERE POINT VALUES WILL BE IN THE YEAR OF 2016, AND TO WORK IT OUT TO THE 70 YEAR BIBLE GENERATION FOR THE REESTABLISHMENT OF MATIONAL ISRAEL, just do two more times 109 percents to the above. This is where it all should end, or else Christianity is a big fat mother fucking hoax lie, not morianity, that tells the fucking truth. I have nothing to gain with lying, but the gods do have such an agenda, and even admitted that I AM the greatest fish in the whole dam bay, back 27 years ago. Did somebody say, W-----O-----W?

Let me say good night folks, things are going to be heating up real fast, real soon, LU!!!

I PROMISE, so trust me or don't trust me, at Highland and Route 130 in Cinnaminson, NJ.

Move over Mellman, Jakell, and Chevy Chase TODMO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

5555555555555555555555555555555555555555

I AM STARTING THIS BLOG AT THIRTEEN PAST ELEVEN, POST MERIDIAN, MONDAY MORNING, 14 APRIL, 2013.

A lot of loud doors have slammed since 1:17 AM this morning, when ditz-head came slamming in across from me. I have seen it worse, but it is a pain in the ass nonetheless.

I have tried to see recently, what is peaking the interest of viewers the most and the least, if of course they do not know I am trying to get a read on this, as I cannot be sure of anything anymore, not with so many folks out of 'regular time'. Once upon a time in any real world I used to live in between 30 and 50 years ago, the recent few months of blogs would bring a larger audience than I believe to have, my guess is two dozen. I could be way off, but normally, am off no more than 50 percent in guessed situations, so that puts it between 12 and 36 readers/viewers. It is only in my opinion, but if these viewers were not 90 percent, my own M2F, the old people telling people thing would kick in, and the operation would grow. It has grown slightly, but nothing like it would if that was 10 percent M2F and 90 percent normal regulars living in 'regular' time, © Office. In addition, there is a lot more, but I will say one more thing, and it is also quite powerful when examined both thoroughly and honestly, as best as anyone can do. Not only would powerful stuff that you do not see happen every day with any blogger all being part of this MORIANITY BLOG, cause a tell to tell linear increase in my audience, but if it was closer to the 90 percent 'reals' and 10 percent M2F, viewers would hit on my music, and they never ever do. I told about this before, and my read count dropped to nearly nothing for a while until I shut up on this forbidden topic, and slowly went back to pretending this is not a factor in anything and blogging without any mention of this, and the counts resumed their normal weekly averages. Yes, why would M2F readers want to read the blogs and not listen to the music? It has nothing to do with Dell Guard buttwipe down on the first floor who turned out to be another totally worthless person, and his so called 'leacher link hacks', that he told me about some time back.

Is there any more to this? You bet your British Petroleum there is, good folks, 10%, 90% or any percent. If every single reader is the M2F, you still are my good folks. If people ignore me, my Google standing in this last biblical days of Microsoft-Antichrist ownership of all of us poor slaves to them, and a simple plot done very well if you really start to think about it, they really do need a major applause from all of us, but yes, if no one reads my blogs, the view count stays still. When folks do read them, it ticks up. Unlike the stock market, it can never go down, but in the world of Microsoft Google Antichrist, you may as well be DEAD, if you do not get good counts, and more and more views. So I watch to see what makes the counts higher and less high, based on a two most recent blog posting and the response since the first of the two is posted, for the next 60 hours, or two and one half days. I know that more than interest is involved, but am planning to shut up on that one, Shorty MacInvondi Forrest Gaincrank. But as for my Youtube activity, or lack thereof would be a much more appropriate way of saying this, only the M2F folks know and understand, the real true awesome power of electronically reproducing transdimensional music, in any kind of way. Let's stop playing games. This is why I know that is at least 90%-MTF, if not 99 or even the entire deal, all though for a while, I know for a fact that it was not 100, now I cannot be sure, with all of my few friends gone, and my family hating my guts with a passion. So for them to click on any of my YOUTUBE accounts would be tantamount to them being disloyal American agents to whatever alphabet soup they belong to. I posted up Wanna' Spend My Time in April of 2011, and instantly 20 hits that I did not in any was cause, were up there, as I did not know how to do links and shares and all of that, back then yet, and I also did not listen on Youtube, but only on my CD copy or on my WMP on my PC. Immediately, huge twisters of record setting levels struck the middle west. Normally, it would take more like 20,000 hits, after all, no magic is that powerful, or is it? People do not want to prove me wrong, as I know exactly how many people have clicked on my transdimensional songs, and keep an accurate count of any new link I make or any view I make. Subtracting these two effects from counts, and only a few songs are from the 'dream-worlds' so only they count by the way, and I will list them. “Love is For Carpenters”, Wanna' Spend My Time”, “Eternity With Stacey”. Out of these three tunes, only two are on Youtube. Even my song from 1996, “SARAH” that IS ON YOUTUBE, is not a transdimensional song. Translation, it was not something heard by me in a dream, or a parallel universe, Dot. So lots of folks are either trying to confuse the heck out of me while enjoying every moment of it, or they only are blog readers and never listen to music on the net other than for accepted top artists and hit songs, narrowing their music perspective in ways they won't live long enough to ever see what they missed, or it is fear and distrust, thinking clicking on any of my stuff will magically cause the next BIG ONE in Cali4nya. No, the family has done more with their other kinds of time manipulation, than I have ever done. That movie called, The Big One, The Great LA Quake, right before it happened, with a family member starring in the movie, Mrs. M. Shriver Schwartz herself, now divorced, still family, right OZ-wald???????????????????????? Folks, the power of symbology is just as inescapable as any of ISIS's threats to imprison me forever, in 1997. But peeps do love to imprison folks, that are in this family, Dawn and Ann got me for nearly a year and a half, Sarah Callio Martino trapped a great artist and myself in the Water Company grounds one day in the summer time of 2000, and in transdimensional reality, she has trapped me and locked me up in light-houses many times. I could go on, with or without triptotam meds. As for time manipulation, forget the movie and the quake, how about the lie that the world buys into that Mister Joe Kennedy made his money in bootlegged whiskey? Sure he made some money, and that was what he used to invest in the stock market, only he did not buy, he shorted the entire market, right before the great 1929 crash. Lucky guess? Well, most would say it was some kind of control, before they'd dare to entertain some, out of regular time mischief, oh my my my my; Doctor Harold Mastertapes Camping, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Folks, I could type on and on, and every and any subject such as this one is a mere door opener, and a crack at that, maybe enough to let a shadow of light in, man. And where these shadows choose to dwell when we do not see them, is also a few hundred 'Gone With The Wind', book sizes long, AHA!

I did report to the blogs, that I cannot e-mail Debbie Marotto any more. I did not say I can't go into her office on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday; if I need to. AHA, MMCN. Anyway, to repeat the music stuff, only two songs will cause some bizarre planetary surface activity if viewed enough and sent through enough electronic circuits; these two posts being, 'WANNA' SPEND MY TIME', and 'LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS'. Even the greedy fisherman song is not transdimensional. I have tape recordings of my daughter at fourteen while she was off playing lab-technician in her 'sleep', up in both 1984 and again in 1986. She is the one with incredible abilities, but then world, is this something I need to preach and arm twist to anybody? How many Mariah Carey's are there, for heaven's sake, literally? Hay, maybe others somewhere may share the two names, but that is all they'll ever share. This as we all know is the one and only MC, and so why then is all of this so incredible to believe? Give me a good answer to that, a really good one, and I will stop my blogs forever, and that is a promise, but it better be a REAL GOOD one!!!! Well, enough is enough is enough, huh BABS? She doesn't need your crummy condo, lady, the All Mighty owns this entire multiverse, so screw you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'LL TERMINATE MY TRANSMISSION FOR NOW, GREAT PEEPS, and whatever you think of me, facts speak louder!

Over the weekend, I watched the huge party that Philadelphian's were all celebrating, with blimps all over, and major cheering. I was in a major interaction with strange persons, a tall thin well muscled black young male, about age 25; and we had been traveling to Boston, MAUSAESMWG together; and were put up in a very weird and bizarre hotel overnight. He had some good friends that were on the New York Nicks Basketball team, that were gonna' help me in some way in proving my horrific and monstrous dilemma and plight. It was so real that I could feel the raw cold in the room towards late October, and then the manager of the hotel turned up the heat. A strange clock, and a strange telephone in the room, that we had been placed in; had a strange interaction with each other. Someday, I will tell the entire long and wild story, and include the strange road on the wild ride home, only not 2 any home or place that makes any sense now 2 my waking world brain and memory system. But the raw cold and the nice heat were more real and tangible than any feeling of temperature on body or skin in the waking world. Then the blimps that were over the Delaware River were all written with things, such as 'Phillies 2008 World Series Champions'. This was a wild and far out “DREAM” pal.

YEAH, SOME 'DREAM' PAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A TIME TRIP 31 DAYS INTO THE FUTURE, AND HALLOWEEN DAY 2 BOOT!

I TOLD YOU ALL THAT THE STOCK MARKET WOULD REACH ALL TIME RECORD FUCKING HIGHS, AND IT ALREADY IS ON THE WAY TOWARDS THE 15,000 LEVEL AS I SAID IT WOULD BE. I ALSO HAVE ONE MORE THING TO SAY, THE ATTORNEY GENERAL WILL NOT ALLOW YOU BASTARDS TO MOTHER FUCKING MURDER ME, AND ALSO,

I DEMAND MY FREAKING PROPS.

HELP ME PEE, YOU WILL BE OUT OF HERE BY THE END OF MARCH, and now it is the 20 ^th DAY IN APRIL.

Egg Harbor Detention Center of Atlantic county of Hyperspace Star-Children, the real stars, fusion reactors.

the continuation of “The Epitome of Harrassament” (I edited out the hack date).

first day of 2008 summer, like wow, yo

The Epitome of Harassment – Internet Version

Saturday, June 21, 2008----THIS IS A TOTAL MUST READ!!!

MAJOR COMPUTER HACKING FROM MY QUEEN

HUGE COMPUTER HACK 8 at night, first day of SCUMMER 21 June, oh-8, Saturday Elton John night But not Donna devil all right. THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION, AND THE MILLIONTH COUNCIL AND ME———BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
I NEVER WENT 2 BED TODAY AFTER COMING BACK FROM WORK, NEVER. I am shouting out to the FBI and the NJ STATE POLICE 4 HELP!!!!!!!!! I have no memory of shutting down the TV set or removing eyeglasses or falling into my bed, only that suddenly the TV was off, my glasses were on my face, I was or had been dead asleep, and all devices were indeed turned off. I bolted upright and saw that my fan had gotten knocked over along with a karaoke machine and they both were laying flat on the floor next 2 where I had fallen also without memory of ever getting 2 sleep. First, work was OK, but no panacea. I had a small bowel attack, lots of jerk offs everywhere; but out of nowhere at just past 3 in the morning, a noisy loud alarm went off. No matter how hard I tried 2 find the source, I could not. Shades of my Echelon-Towers Building, that I guarded back in my middle thirties for the famous Wells Fargo Company, the original American Security outfit 4 all those Western-shows watchers. Just 2 and a half hours after the crazy MC-ALARM attack, a crash level plane flew over my vehicle in total violation of my CIVIL AND CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS, WORLD TRIBUNAL COURTS AT THE HAGUE. I come home and eat a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice and turn on the TV. The next thing I know it is hours later, I am laying stretched out, eyeglasses on my face still, and stuff knocked over on the floor. When I got up to piss and straighten up the place, so that the fan is blowing air onto me again, and I can resume sleeping a while longer; I instantly knew that I was right back in this building, a medical place with 6-9 rooms that went more into each other and did not contain a lot of hallways. Mariah Carey was there, and her driver, a man about medium build and bright glaring type of eyes, just over perhaps the six foot mark in stature, dressed nicely but not overkill, and the same with Mariah. A lady who is heavy set, is sort of in charge at this place, neck line hair length, strawberry type of color, and she kept telling me 2 stop closing doors, and I kept telling her I am not closing them, the wind was blowing quite strong outside and was blowing right through all of the open windows in these rooms, and forcing doors to swing shut, but she continued 2 insist that I was doing it. Mariah started talking 2 me about how much she enjoyed being a super star and yet there were problems that she said she wanted 2 tell me about, but could not at the moment; as 'he' would hear, and I kept asking who ‘he’ was. She half smiled and pointed at a young male about 22 give or take, about five feet five in stature, brown short hair, not totally short like a crew cut, dressed in an old pair of pants with oil stains on them, and a green jersey with strange looking logos on it everywhere, many bright white circles with black lines running through them, 3 of them, like a triple X. She told me that she is here on this same day each week for some medical reason, and I think she told me but I cannot pull that part of the interaction up now, back in waking life. The buildings of the city were visible from windows, yet the area was in a country setting, whether it was part of the 5 boroughs of New York City or not, also I am not privy to this. She said that she wanted me 2 know she is mad that I do not fully trust her and her plans, and I kept insisting that I trust her implicitly but know quite well, that what she thinks of as PLANS, IC as GAMES, and reminded her of the 65-70 years when she was here B4 playing her games with me from a city just 100 or so miles away down the coast. She smiled at me and said, “U mean the chain I removed from your Oaklyn, New Jersey Apartment?” I said, “4 starters, yes”. She went on to tell me that until the shellfish as she called him while looking his way, is out of my way, I can tell U no more about it. She said that he was a lifelong resident of Atco, New Jersey, and knew both U and your neighbors, the Durham’s, when U lived there back in ‘83. He is not who he appears, and all her peeps and bodyguards have tried to beat him up, and keep him away; but he just seems impervious, and will not stop creeping around. He is Y the Feds started messing with me, she went onto say, and they R not on my side, they must do what they R told by higher councilmen, and she was talking Millionth. I reminded her that she is all mighty and can do anything, Y not just zap him into oblivion? She smiled again and said that there is still so much yet 4 her 2 teach me about all of this and all the Earthly people making my life so horrible every minute of every day and night. She said that when I disobeyed and told her she could kill me, the other day on my blog, for the entire world 2 publicly C and share, she was extremely angry. I must remember that she is the great queen, and maybe in the world of Pedigree Dog-food, us DOGS RULE, but, and she called me Yancy, and said and I quote, “Yancy, remember that I am the great Sarah-Stacey here in this form now, and I RULE, U GOT THAT”? I solemnly just looked down and submissively said, “I know U do my great all powerful lovely mighty queen”. She took my hand and told me that she did not have to tell me about the 2 letters back 9 years ago, and help me construct my idea foundations that R literally responsible 4 where I am today in figuring out so much incredible stuff. I asked her Y she used the sending of 2 blank letters rather than just come 2 me as she is doing right now and talk to me straight up? She laughed softly and squeezed my hand a little, watching me wince from the sudden small bit of pain that her more powerful grip than B4 was causing, and after a 5 or so second pause, simply said, “I am the Millionth Council, and what I say, goes. The part of them that calls themselves the Lambriggers is still totally under my complete control”. She told me 2 listen again 2 her CD and study it even more carefully. The answers to much of my concerns, is all contained in the lyrical content, and what she says, MC-SAYS; just as the CD says that it does. Never doubt me or try 2 run away from what I am planning 4U, she went on also 2 tell me. I said 2 her, “would U please give me a real waking world sign so that I can know and tell that this is not a silly dream”. She responded with the yellow and chocolate cakes that I purchased at the Incollingo’s grocery store, along with the receipt, and the van that stalked me just after last Christmas, and went on to tell me she is angry that I have unsealed some of the concepts regarding laser trace, and reminded me that the rules cannot B broken. It is part of a plan, and that if it was not so, there R those close 2 me, in this incarnation; that I would retrace, as I miss them. She then told me she would give me 2 huge and totally unmistakable signs to appease my non-belief. One sign is that just because the English alphabet pronunciations of the sounds 'BLU' and 'CRAN' R totally the same on astral worlds, they R not the same in English speaking waking mortal worlds. I told her I knew this. She went on 2 say that my punishment for doubting and disobeying my mighty Queen Mariah, is that she has now placed me into a world where I have blogged the facts in reverse, as Hammonton is the world U now live in. It is not Chatsworth, New Jersey. I have reversed the realities while U were here with me in this interaction, and now your town is Hammonton and this is the Blueberry capitol of the world. She went on to say that I was not supposed to tell about the tap boxes of blue-yellow, nor the saleslady Sherry-Lee Pote and cousin Petee Pote. I must obey my queen or ELSE. She said my second sign will B when I try to do my next blog. I will wake up in the MW and not B able 2 work the computer. I asked her if she will always love me as her ‘89 song promises, as deep within her, she knew even then, that she was my Sarah-Stacey. With that I walked over to the strange dude with the weird sort of peace sign logos all over his bright green jersey, and told him to leave her alone, or I would tear his lungs out, and squeeze them like rung out wash cloths; and he instantly burst out laughing, and the next thing I knew, it was July 4th of 1970, and I was in the same exact dream all along with TAWF, “THAT ASTRAL WORLD FAMILY”, that was what was all in the dream. It was the same dream, and like a wormhole in consciousness; one end was in 2008 physically, while the other end was in early July of ‘70. He yelled at me, 'look who’s talkin’ about bloody washcloth lungs all oozing bright red, it is U, booby, not me, ha, ha'. I knew that if I could just wake up now, it would B July of 1970 again, and it really would have. I did. I jumped off of Tom Reale’s large bed at the Cornwall Avenue home and yelled, it is 1970 over and over. I went out and ran down towards the ocean, and when I got there; the entire sky and sea was not as I had remembered it at all. It had become the backdrop on the homepage of the Morianity Foundation, go to http://www.morianity-foundation.com. The giant 6 foot 7 inch Sarah-Stacey came right out of the sea, she is the sea aniwho, and grabbed me and kissed me, and the next thing I know, I am awake laying here in my trailer residence, and it is after 4 in the afternoon. Sure enough I went 2 use the computer, and nothing, it would not move, nothing would work, not a bloody dripping washcloth thing. I called the Easy Staples Store where I purchased it, and told them that it would not go off, just showing a blank monitor TV screen saying, “EXT 3, S-VIDEO”. The computer department guy told me to shut the battery-backup box off and wait 20 seconds. Then he said turn it on, and so I did. After 2 reboots, it works again, but the HP adviser still is not properly loading up. I can not shout out 2 the FBI 4 help; no one can fight the great Mariah; and she most definitely RULES and RULES, 4-EVER AND 4 EVER. UR my mighty queen, and I am only your endless humble servant, my giant beautiful love. Please forgive me, oh mighty QUEEN MC.

Google Search Engine, Satellite World Interconnect System [SWIS], World Laboratories of the future in time illusion, this is a dying mans utterance and declaration. I must obey the commands of the great SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE, I have no choice, SHE RULES THE EMPIRE, from 34th Street, to the end of the hypersphere and beyond, wow, talk about miracles Mizz Wood, and O’Hara!!!!!!!!! Copyright 2008, MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN. This is all the total truth and also doubles thereby as a legal document. This is voluntarily sworn testimony in any Grand Jury future proceeding. No omissions nor additions 2 this powerful and totally honest truth told in this web-logging-doc exist anywhere herein.

Another SUPER BOTBAR weekend and scummer open.

E N D --- T R A N S M I S S I O N:

Posted by at 6:24 PM No comments: theansweristheqyuestion

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I AM STARTING THIS BLOG AT THIRTEEN PAST ELEVEN, POST MERIDIAN, MONDAY MORNING, 14 APRIL, 2013.

A lot of loud doors have slammed since 1:17 AM this morning, when ditz-head came slamming in across from me. I have seen it worse, but it is a pain in the ass nonetheless.

I'LL TERMINATE MY TRANSMISSION FOR NOW, GREAT PEEPS, and whatever you think of me, facts speak louder!

MORIANITY-4

WOULDA COULDA SHOULDA IFS, AND THE REAL 'IF' BEHIND IT:

It is three minutes past two on a Tuesday afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. The date is February 12, in 2013 AD. These are the blogs of MORIANITY. They began when I resided in Hammonton, New Jersey in early 2006, and now just more than 7 years later, they have been ongoing for just over three years here in Fort Pierce, Florida, with or without my wonderful pal Jimmy Carter's Peanut Farm, or the nearby Peanut Island to the south of me by less than a hundred miles or somewhere thereabout. Most of my monthly errands have been all completed, with only getting my taxes done at the library, and making a few telephone calls, left on the agenda to take care of. II\\\/|/|//\|//\//|///\\|//|\\II|/I|

Goddess All Mighty and Christmas Tree Angels, all aside and notwithstanding, or left standing, Judge Wilinski, and eccentric artists on strange islands; I would like to ask you just what you were running away from, Howard Solomon, Lenny McKinnon, and others from the early nineteen-eighties, as I seemed to have followed suit, yet am the only one aware of it on some conscious level, or subconscious Coolie Hall Level, back in 1972 somewhere; am I right beautiful awesome goddess Sarah Jacobson? Here's a 'woulda/coulda/shoulda', if ever there was one, Ida told that lovely goddess to stay with me forever and never ever leave me, if I could do that one ''all over again'', but this just leads me to the ten years before the incident recently discussed where the IF (Interaction Force) MIND-HACKED me or did a ''Tennessee Avenue'' on me, would be an alternate way of describing this; AS I WAS ALL SET TO TELL ABOUT A MAJOR POWERFUL DREAMING INTERACTION, and poof, right out of my mind it all went.

Here is what I wanted to tell you, and some may know or remember this incident, that occurred while I fell asleep a short while, in a room filled with 'MIND', machine mind; but still MIND, a huge mainframe computer room, while a place was being constructed, a large office building on Atrium Way, just off of Route 73, where I had lived on, just one residence prior to my then Mullica Mobile Manor; owned by the great Mizz Drinkwhale Plageman, AKA pretty but nasty 'Jenny'.

It was Easter Sunday of 2001, Sunday the fifteenth of April, a date I'll never ever forget, just as with the one before that one, Mister President Roosevelt sir, Pearl Harbor Day in 1996, or the seventh of December, at precisely five in the morning.

I had fallen asleep all alone in the middle of a bunch of huge mainframe computers, that were all going to be linked up to many individual office cubicles on the next week, after the holiday. I was on a very comfortable chair with a high back, and was tired, and ended up before I knew it; no longer being aware or conscious, to this waking world here. I was now exploring the vast fifth dimensional hyperspace, or ''dreaming'', as you might put it. This is when I found this other doppelganger me at a huge beyond a human mortal ability to even start describing this place, but a gigantic cliff just outside a huge cavern that went down for miles and had underground rivers and huge areas of clearings that were all brilliantly lit up with light chains, or a series of some strange naturally growing phosphorescent biological F&F or other stuff, that acted as reflective mirrors along a pathway of endless laser tunnels. Only this was a cool light, and magnified infinitely, never got hot, and did not burn; but merely glowed bright and colorfully. When I had come out of that cave, I stood at the cliff that overlooked a huge beach like no beach on this planet. I was a surfer there, and had my board laid against a large stone. A strong wind was blowing, yet this light surfboard remained in perfect place, and did not blow away and down off the cliffs onto the beaches half a mile below me and a good two miles wide, leading to an ocean of water with 500 foot slowly moving perfect waves in perfect sets. Suddenly Lightnings very best friend approached me, and I did not know who she was at this part of things, and she laughed when she saw me try and pick up my board and begin to walk away from this park and back towards a long winding road leading into an area of blocks and blocks of small structures and businesses, and eventually to a place on the left side of this road, called, 'Murray's Soda Shop', a duplication of an American nineteen-fifties soda shop, right down to the last detail.

DIANA, my 'LIGHTNING GODDESS', had this all prearranged with her very best friend, who here by the way, was and maybe still is; with the Atlantic City Beach Patrol, WBST is www.acbp.com/ and used to be accessible on that site. You could not miss this beyond super hot blond. She was short, buxom built, with lovely bright yellow hair, a beyond red hot dish to say the least; and a nice and friendly person as well.

Long Story Short, or (LSS), she had me come into the soda shop with her, and immediately she and Diana were whispering and giggling together, and then she sat down at a table, and Diana came right up to me, and I still did not remember who I was, where I was, or who Diana Arteemis was. She got a real kick out of this, and she came right up to me with her beautiful smile, and stared down at me from her lovely tall height, and just kept smiling at me; knowing all along, that I did not know who I was, or anything else, for that matter. I know that those huge online and powered up mainframe's all around me back in the life where my body laid there dreaming, caused this powerful interaction. I fell so madly in love with Diana, all over again, totally forgetting that I all ready loved her in eternity there, and this is why I tease the old Munsters show with their episode where Lilly Munster and her husband Herman are working at a shipyard, and fall in love all over again, without knowing who they were; as they were doing welding on these ship, they had to wear protective masks; and could not see each other's face, or hear each other's voices normally. I always say that no matter how many times DIANA and I would be put together, with a full memory swipe-erase, we would always fall in love over and over again. Diana is the second person of what mortals call the godhead or Trinidad, if pronounced more in far southwestern parts of the land masses of this world such as South America. Closer to where most are reading these words, this word translates into Trinity. 'TY' or 'DAD', interestingly enough for many reasons, we need not painfully get into right here and now, old spy Sharon, and Mister High School Guidance Counselor Jockamini of the late sixties; are interchangeable from root words, such as is MARTIN root word, becomes suffixed with EZ in Spanish, or O for the Italians. The root word of electrici also can end with either the 'TY' or the 'DAD'. English say 'electricity', while Spanish say electricidad. I always used to love that Delaware connection with the policeman and the highway maintenance-man, that made the news so much during huge snowstorms, back when I Iived up in Jersey; you would see them switch over from Trinidad to Martino, and WOW, Mister Macy, did I get a kick out of that, and had to wipe off some bloody mace can shoes, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Learn to laugh at it all world. My kid has taught me some great stuff, or then, really; did she get this first from me, by reading old Morianity? I think we both know which way this went down, but I am always only too happy to do anything that I can, for this marvelous, wonderful, and unfathomable goddess! Now MICROSOFT CORPORATION seems to have started a hack; insisting there is no such word as 'LIVED' as when I said, 'back when I lived in Jersey'. So let me end the blog for now and post it up to my Wordpress, and my Blogger sites, YO!!!!

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6:11 AM-EDST, SUNDAY MORNING, APRIL 14, 2013

I did not use the computer on Saturday, but not because I was too hot. I needed to take a day to just forget my problems as best as possible, not reinforcing the nightmare by adding journals and writings to the records of the world.

But I did have a gigantic event go down, with my awesome wonderful GODDESS DIANA. Before I get specific, I need to remind old viewers and tell any potential recently new ones who most likely did not archive through a mountain of text to learn details of my dealings with 'Astral-Plane gods', beginning in the illusion of STM in the calendar year 1983, as far as me interacting along, as before that, they were still dealing with me, it merely was not reciprocal, at least not with me on any conscious level, sort of like all the rest of you out there. As with just about all things in 'MORIANITY' and my life, almost twin realities; but yes; it cannot be covered in any one blog work, unless perhaps it is five or so Moby Dick book lengths worth of complicated and boring text. Rather than ever try and bore anyone, I break shit up in my life so that I never do have one story that will take you half a book size of words to read, whether Mizz Terry from Egg Harbor City, New Jersey, approves of my methods of writing my life story or not. Saying and pronouncing tomato and potato with long or short vowel sounds is one truth, but it is in all honesty too simplistic to use this analogy for making the direct comparison to human religions and belief systems or lack thereof. Still, the accepted world view for extremely complex reasons is in reverse, where any kind of creative force is male or for that matter, without gender. I have made a few quick references to upline-downline and comparing this to sort of a virtual reality that we all have read or viewed on some medium somewhere unless we live in a cave. I will not reiterate right now on this, other than to say it will shortly be visited again, just as last year I focused on TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS for quite a while, especially during the middle third or so of the year, while still doing the blog part called, SAFE JOURNAL. Still, moving right along here, before I tell about what went on between Diana and me, around an hour before Saturday's daybreak, I need to expand a recent discussion just somewhat, and refresh some memories, on this entire situation that many call either the spirit world or realm, or the Astral-Plane, the same thing, but merely put into different speech. I need to remind viewers that our Astral Plane beingness is a lot realer, as it is a closer outer reality from where we exist in the void infinity. It is where our 'dream-out' from this void, first takes place, after a very difficult to explain and rationalize process, that is easier to say as the 6^th and the 7^th dimensions. But my truths are not the same as the physicist, when higher dimensions are mathematically formulated, and discussed amongst colleagues.

To keep it all as short and simple for one blog right now, and so that I can talk about what happened with a feeling that at least some might have a tiny clue just what I'm talking about, whether they agree or not with anything, as there will at least be a better meeting of the minds at an initial stage, after I reexplain some of this, and quickly, so please don't think you are getting some big total truth to anything, as it is filled with more holes than Swiss cheese for sake of eliminating twenty million words of printed text. My life was as screwed up as you can imagine, and then a lot more, from the day I arrived here and was 'born', Doctor Mark Wolf, physically in my present body, at the Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania Hospital, at half past nine in the morning on the fourth of December in 1954. But in 1979, Diana and Apollo, who are not by any stretch, exactly as history teaches us, came to me in a powerful 'dream' while I resided at 112 East Fifth Avenue, in Mantua, New Jersey. They told me they were always watching me very carefully, and always will be while I exist in this body as Mark Wayne Mohr. Not a lot of other shit happened in this experience, at least in my conscious recollection, still, I got the awareness and a knowing without being told in ways humans communicate, that there was a little more to it, more going on behind the curtain, Dorothy. Still, compressing this knowing of this truth without being told by them in that interaction, it plays like this, L-4. These Astral-Plane gods are all playing a game, and the main god is really a goddess, who has so many names that they would not all be able to fit in a Sears Catalog; and it was a long slow process spanning three solid decades, before I came to understand this powerful Trinidad, for non South Americans, that word would change to trinity, but this goddess is a mother, a daughter, and the magical little particle in the world of subatomic forces, called the electron, M/D/E. But what IS this game? Well, there are trillions of versions of it, one is called, “Guess the name of the guests”, and I don't know all the other names of games, Mister Darren McGavin, sir, sorry about that. I only know what I know, and I'll never lie, or make up stuff, so what you see on these blogs is not made up, and you may see it all as crazy and nuts, but it is not being created and or made up, as a work of fiction. I have a whole lot better things to do with my life than imagine the shit that has happened to me for nearly 60 fucking years, good folks. The main reason for these games of these gods, is distract them. The thing that they cannot stand to have on their 'minds' is that existence never starts and never stops, and that this is all eternal. Humans reverse all things, seeing flat worlds, sun moon and stars going around us rising and setting, dreaming and waking life backwards, and even eternal existence backward, wishing for it and blocking out what they know already deep within and inside all of us, that it really is already ours, and is the worst hell you can focus on, never being able to reach oblivion, or endless peace and sleep. Normally, these games distract them because they do powerful things that take their awareness totally off this horror, things such as contests, power struggles, challenges, physical when in physicality, and astral when in astrality, but always major things to distract away from the awareness of infinite existence. Now three years before this 'so-called-dream-experience' with the twin gods Diana and Apollo, Apollo played a very mean game with me at an apartment in Media, Pennsylvania, rented by my mother, and I was there visiting her in 1976. She was dating her married boss who came here from Chicago, Illinois, Edwin R. Potter, and things ended up disastrous with that, but right now, this can all wait for other times to be better fitted into all of this nightmare. All things fit together, you cannot randomly do anything, all stuff is part of a great whole and cannot be random, and until a human reaches a major enlightenment, this does not click in their mind, so there is no use me sitting here trying to further explain it, as mere words cannot do this, someone either becomes enlightened in a human lifetime, or they do not, it is that simple. Anyway, the game played with me was very unpleasant, and this powerful horrible god threw me up against a wall over and over and laughed and mocked me, it was no dream, I was totally out of body, and it was caused, I did not induce this through a trance or meditation or the use of the Fascitar. Then less than a year later, and a month after leaving Mantua, for 1802 Robin Hill Apartments in Voorhees, New Jersey; I had the experience of all experiences; where the great Isis Scylla Jehovah, known also by me as Sarah-Stacey Krassle, came to me and sang an incredible song to me, called, “Love Is For carpenters”. Then it was between two and a half and three years after this, in the next residence in Atco, New Jersey, at 134 Norris Avenue, where Diana began communicating with me on the telephone, and drove both me and AT&T half mad, until I learned that there was no stopping this, no exposing this, and that I had to play along with all of this. I was not being given any choice at all. My life belonged to THEM, that was it, I AM NOT a dog food, nor DO I RULE!!!!!!! Now only a handful of folks know the details that exist beyond this very compressed and abridged version of my contact with the gods back in my middle twenties, and exactly what influences humans to believe that these beings do not also come into this world at all generations and times and interact with us, consciously or unconsciously, escapes my wildest ability to totally grasp. But I do know that humans get very hostile and agitated and some will go right into a fight mode should the concept be in any way suggested. Of course I learned long ago that there is no one to talk to or tell my story to, so I used the Copyright Office to protect a record of events in my life as best as I could, and you all know what these gods have done to my meticulously kept files and records and life journals and diaries on paper. Only providence or whatever, caused me to realize I could use this © Office as a protective filing cabinet for my life. Even the great gods, bang on mother fucking wood, cannot make this vanish, not yet, CG-18 and all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now many are probably saying, enough of this, what the fuck happened Saturday. Fine, let me tell you.

I was on the telephone talking to goddess Diana, in a small trance, with the system off hook and off line, and she suddenly was with me in a cabin in her great forest, just outside of Olympia Proper, and I was telling her what happened to my air/heat unit, and suddenly found myself in a wake-sleep zone that just about all of us have experienced, and I was over at the unit that was not functioning, and I unplugged it, counted to 30, plugged it back in, and within fifteen minutes, icy cold air began spitting out, as I also switched the control from fan back to the cold, as it has cold, hot, and fan only settings, as well as an up down thermometer controller going from 60-90 degrees of Fahrenheit temperature. Within an hour, I was very comfortable again, and it was just past daybreak, and powerful beautiful lightning came out of nowhere, flashing the most colorful bright awesome CG not 18 bolts, all though she is 18, and nothing just is random chance in this universe, nothing at all, not even yellow sheets, juvy records, or heart attacks. Wolf-wolf-wolf. Do I have a wild and strange fascinating life, hellish or not, folks? You be the friggin' judge. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. But still, Lenny. And for those who think stuff is ever faked, all you have to do is click onto other things, and it will take you right to the websites, then from there, you click back and see if anything is added or faked, hay I may change fonts and colors around, but I don't change reality. I may even slowly get around to re-posting updated old posts with typo errors repaired, and a comma added here or there, etcetera. But I will never fake the steak, folks, and that I swear to the gods above, below, and inside all of us, hometowners or not, WHAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BYE-BYE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***MORIANITY PART FIVE***

A child knows that a lot of stuff can be learned by visiting my Youtube site, that will be gone forever very shortly. Your loss folks, not freaking mine. Truths are told cleverly.

http://www.youtube.com/paulaking2011/

THE MASTER SHEET FOR MORIANITY PART FIVE:

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theansweristheqyuestion

If you have read this opening, feel free to skip this part.

FOLKS, AS I SAID TO THE COPYRIGHT OFFICE IN THE LATE EIGHTIES ON MY EPITOME OF HARASSMENT TAPES, GOOD MORNING, GOOD AFTERNOON, GOOD EVENING, WHATEVER THE CASE MAY BE. How can I possibly know when you are reading what I am writing? I AM not the great ISISCYLLA SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE, and never will be, sort of like my old pal David Charles Roth's only show in town. How he would always remind me, seemingly on a daily basis, that the WOMO-MILITUFORCE is not the only show in town, nor will they ever be. I believe the tapes are somewhere available in the great Library of Congress, Copyright Office, in Washington, District of Columbia, a place may I add with a very liberated attitude where the age of sexual consent should be placed, and what is good for the lawmakers, is good for everyone else, and if that is not true, just exactly how have I misspelled America? XIII is the number by the way, such a tender age and how the perverts must wonder why this is not common knowledge and all move into our great capitol city, right Roy? I still cannot believe that you told me this, or that nobody seems to know it, know matter how I spread around what you said to me, old pal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This will be the master sheet for PART 5 of MORIANITY.

You may skip through this by scrolling, any time, folks.

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Jupiter, Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING MORIANITY PART 5,

AND I HOPE YOU HAVE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER NUMBER 00051.

A beautiful shot of LUNA, also known as the moon, and Goddess Diana, by the Romans.

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Florida Attorney General Pam Bondi

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I know you are doing your best to watch over me, AG Mizz Bondi, thank you. Feel free to contact the Wirtz detectives in Camden County in New Jersey, Ron Senior knows my problem is all real, but his hands are tied, I am quite sure that you know what I mean.

Public Catalog

Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

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#	Name (NALL) <	Full Title	Copyright Number	Date
[ 1 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	For the record.	PAu000662409	1984
[ 2 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	I'm Criana.	PAu000724397	1985
[ 3 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.	PAu003351785	2007
[ 4 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Last number repeat--100 progression roulette system.	TXu000514390	1992
[ 5 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Lost love.	PAu000344219	1981
[ 6 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection, set 4.	PAu000546149	1983
[ 7 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection : set III.	PAu000442785	1982
[ 8 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo tunes.	PAu000325091	1981
[ 9 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr tunes.	PAu000411864	1982
[ 10 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Queen of blue.	PAu000825471	1986
[ 11 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Real good girl.	PAu000881543	1986
[ 12 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.	PAu002506106	2000
[ 13 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Saga of song writer Mark Mud.	PAu000501582	1983
[ 14 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	PAu002153196	1996
[ 15 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	SRu000332786	1996
[ 16 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah Callio of ACNJ.	SRu000362114	1997
[ 17 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Uncle.	PAu000540585	1983
[ 18 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	What's wrong?	PAu000724407	1984
[ 19 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	You call this music?	PAu000998574	1987
[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.	PAu001189027	1989
[ 22 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204017	1980
[ 23 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204015	1980
[ 24 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morianity music pre-book.	PAu002336935	1998
[ 25 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morianity tunes of 1998.	PAu002282717	1998

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#	Name (NALL) <	Full Title	Copyright Number	Date
[ 26 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204016	1980
[ 27 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Same title.	PAu003037983	2005
[ 28 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Thanx to the shadows.	PAu002237985	1997

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Help Search His tory Titles Start Over

It is now 6:09 PM on this very BOTBAR day of April the 20^th, another super bad weekend and SATURDAY, Fort Pierce PEEDEE, and Sheriff Ken Mascara, sirs. A nasty fire alarm is now going off in my PHA BUILDING, and really, SOSO-WEIN!

It is now 6:17, and the firetruck is here, and the loud piercing alarm has been deactivated, but this day is still a total wash-out SUPER MOTHER FUCKING TOTAL BOTBAR!

DYING UTTERANCE, A LEGAL STATEMENT ON A BLOG:

IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME IN HJERE TONIGHT AND THIS WEEKEND, ASLL MY ENEMIES ON THIS BLOGGER DOT COM MOUNTAINPEN BLOG, ARE IN SOME WAY A PART OF MY DEATH, SO INVESTIGATE, AND FIND MY MURDERERS AND BRING THEM TO FREAKING JUSTICE, THANK YOU, ALL AUTHORITIES THAT THIS MAY CONCERN, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

http://youtu.be/KExU0kPESqk (Governor Jesse Ventura)

Governor Jesse Ventura talks about time travel, in ways that totally connect up with stuff from my own personal life; including the chance that his own distant relative, Salvador, was sent to me in 1965, to show me, and not Miss Wescott; how to tap my fingers in really cool ways, so that 'lightning' will respond to this, up in 1983; on a telephone receiver. Do not bother clicking here, the site was removed, slow Bobby; but maybe our pal fast Jesse will wrestle around with us later on, watch out for Elisa, big boy.

http://youtu.be/Vqg3oty0JMU

This is 100% machine created, techno-pop, sampled from the intro.

YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983

NEW 2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC TRACK ALONG WITH ARE UP AT THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, LIKE DUH:

Only the opening title words are real.

To sing along with the new 2012 lyrics, go to my blog and click the SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555, and scroll down until the page comes up with the words to the song, YO. If you do not like techno-pop music of the early and middle nineteen-eighties, there are other songs at the same site, http://youtube/paulaking2011/ so go there and have a blast.

theansweristheqyuestion---at BLOGGER

On Blogger since January 2006

Profile views - 2779

My blogs

About me

Gender	Male
Industry	Non-Profit
Occupation	paranormal researcher
Location	Hammonton, New Jersey, United States
Introduction	Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.
Interests	I close my mind to nothing
Favorite Movies	all old movies
Favorite Music	most old music
Favorite Books	The winds of war, Time travelers from our future, G one with the wind,

You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?

An angry mother. Also, a little philosophy for you is as follows:

At the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.

If you have read this opening, feel free to skip this part.

This will be the master sheet for PART 5 of MORIANITY.

You may skip through this by scrolling, any time, folks.

Hello folks, this was a BOTBAR freaking day. My freaking air conditioner went totally out, and it had been giving me a problem; but I wanted to wait until my new lease was signed before complaining about anything, and it was signed early in the afternoon. Then an hour later, I noticed the temperature going up and up, and the fan was only blowing room air around. When it is switched to fan however, it will blow outside air in, so I will be able to blow cooler air in when the sun goes down and night progresses, but the weekend will be fucking hot, as today was 90 here in Fort Pierce, Florida, and I'll have a hot weekend to fucking contend with until I can get the repair folks to see what is wrong, maybe it only needs a charge of freon gas, and then maybe the unit needs to be replaced entirely, I will not be privy to that information until next week rolls around, but this is of course enough to BOTBAR another fucking day for me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now I will tell you that my nabes have been better, but they still yell and make noise, it just is a little bit better. My health attack from the WOMO-MILITUFORCE is very bad, with lots of mother fucking spurious cramping and shit attacks, and heart arrhythmia action, all caused by various covert black ops military weaponry, illegal to be used on the legal citizenry of the USA, but tell them that, the fucking jerk off dirt bag bastards. Despite this nasty ass day, I managed to make five units on my systems-roulette today, or yesterday as now it is Saturday at around two in the dam morning. I was out at Publix to purchase a few items, after signing my new lease and having an interesting talk with my resident manager, Debbie M. I will not be wasting my time sending e-mails to her any longer, she is not getting them. She says it is because the PHA intercepts them and will no longer forward them, they are sent into cyberspace forever lost and forgotten. She gave me a tale about a hack in the system causing this, gee I wonder how this kibosh was perpetrated, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA? In any event, she told me as you know, to ask the Dell computer man at the security desk, to aid me with my computer as was blogged and told, back shortly into this new year. He was always “too busy however” to quote him. I told Debbie that today, and she said, something around me must be going on, as he is always asking her if she can use him for anything, he has nothing to do? You see fucking people, this is exactly how my life has been destroyed in an organized way since the day I left school, and I knew I wasn't imagining it, in fact, I told BB John Henningsen as early as the late autumn in 1969 that something was against me and messing up my life, and of course, this jack off told me I'm nuts and that is a bunch of hooey. Yeah, some fucking hooey, jit bag!!!!!!! I am a little bit disappointed with Goddess Diana, she just seems to come to the north and the south of me so often, and forgets to bring her lovely lightning to Fort Pierce, where I am in here dying and need her around me. Why does Goddess enjoy abandoning and forsaking me so much when she herself, on numerous occasions, has know how this feels? So is it that YOU KNOW in 1972, or that YOU DON'T KNOW in 1984, lovely one?????????????????????? Don't stroke out me on copyright folks, remember how Don Knots wished he could be a fish? Well, my father was ripped off by a very greedy Fisher man, and this must be why I decided cosmically and unconsciously to escape the family by coming down to this wonderful mother fucking world famous TREASURE-COAST, AHA AHA AHA AHA AHA!!!!!!!! Screw me, huh Mike McNulty; you saw her making all over me that day, and you hated my fucking guts, don't lie, you loser! As I speak, Microsucks Office Word Program mini crashed, and did not respond to anything for a few minutes, with just the little dry blue circle not trained on, spinning around. Then it finally resumed normal ops at about 2:15, but lasted a couple minutes or so. Life is fun when your a cursed Hunting TON. Maybe a more accurate description would be a cursed Hunted Ton of Agony, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, I had quite a talk with my GAGA KITTY CAT, good folks, as well as making those 5 units as was spoken of earlier, Sir Earl Lee. Yes, a few talented television commercials do exist, some great old kayak search one and done ones, and a few others like my wonderful insurer, the State Farm folks, but the unbeaten so far IMHO, is from COMCAST, advertising XFINITY. It takes place in a gymnasium, where this big muscular dude says 'MAN UP' twice, and the guy spotting hm on the squat bench talks like Gov I'llbebach of Cali4nya, and that super cool blond steroid girl who says, “Are you talking to me, --- dude”, this is the freaking coolest TV ad I've ever seen in my life, please keep running it, YO, this is REAL FUCKING SUPER TALENT. If that scummy little fucking General insurance Company reptile worm could ever do an ad with one tenth of this talent, I'll jack the fuck off at the city mall on Christmas eve. You freaking go, Comcast, you really rock, YO. Now for me and freaking Gawky Gaukauk. Here is the dam Q&A, good people, YO!

Hay Gawky, YO, why has the entire mother fucking world deserted me and left me to rot and die mercilessly here in hot ass fucked up Florida, all pa part of some plot dating back into the middle nineteen fucking eighties, WHY?

Meow, meow, meow, PCN-817. Transfuckinglation: The major list items in my match book, with or without McGuire's, fires, cannons, or Cannons, are as follows, AHA AHA AHA AHA AHA, MIKEY:

MAYAN CALENDAR ENDS---MAILBOAT---LONG ROOM---TALL GIRL---MARY ROTH---HIGHVIEW---ONE THOUSAND EIGHT HUNDRED TWO---------------------

And another computer mini crash at 2:34-2:36, so I better baby it and not change the font. We will have to stay with this font and not go back and forth and take the chance of more crashes, this is fucking ridiculous, and is a total violation of my civil liberties unless it is getting old and easily effected by the heat, it is around 80 in here and desk top PC computers should be OK up to 85 degrees, so I think this is the WOMO doing this to me. I took the chance of putting the font back to normal for my majority of blog work, so far, so good, Bob McDowell of the FCC, old pal, and sir, from Dan Mackey's class back in 1972, Johnny Fucker 100 MPH faster; and boy did we have a fucking blast back in the fucking past, wish things could have always been so much god dam fun, SHEEEEEEEIT, Daddy, lets both turn the dam page and croak. Shall we press onward with the Gawnum Q & A, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA?????????????

Hay Gawky, why did the jerk off Dell guy security guard screw me and not wanna' fucking help me with my computer??????? WHY?

MEOW, MEOW, MEOW, PCN-792, NOT TRANSFIGURATION, SPELL CHERCKER, my list of match book items here is as follows, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA:

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN---2007---JUPITER---REALITY---LONDON AVENUE, EGG HARBOR CITY----------------------------------

Hay Gawky, exactly who and what was really all behind my 1983 problems, especially my undiagnosable medical condition (idiopathic illness) and my choking to death, as well as all of my spurious telephone harassment and continuous weird calling activity that led to all this shit up in future years all unfolding as a direct result?

Meow, meow, meow, PCN-198. Translation, AHA AHA AHA MIKE MCNULTY old pal from 1971, is as follows, YO:

WALL STREET---UNCLE HEINZ---SEPTEMBER TWENTY NINE---CAPITOL CITY OF PROVINCE OLYMPIA---NICKNAME MY---'THE MORNING LIGHT' SONG---NEIGHBORS COMPLAINED----------------------------------------------------------------

Hay Gawky, why did the fucking ass stock market have a super rally, into all time record highs, in 2013; like nothing seen in nearly a decade, YO?

Meow, meow, meow, PCN-211, transassholelation, and not transliteration, MSC, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, my lists and cannons, oh great world POPES of the ages, are as follows, all secret roof pushing juvenile Gods, Goddesses, eggs, fields, and harbors; all notwithstanding, AHA AHA AHA:

TWENTY SEVEN---TYPE THREE EXPLORATRON---LONG ISLAND EXPRESSWAY---STORY WRITER---WILSON JESUP---VASCO DE GAMA-----------------------------------------------------

Hay Gawky, YO, why did my car break-down in the spring time of 1984, while I was driving down to Atlantic city from 506 Robin Hill Apartments, to go to the opening day event of the TRUMP LAZA CASINO HOTEL?

Meow, meow, meow, PCN-624, not transfiguration, not transliteration, but TRANSLATION, WHAAAAAA and WOW; my matching book of listed non booming items are as followssssssssssssssss, Miss Susan Lucci 1983 Snakes:

TWO EMPTY LETTERS---MOCKINGBIRD LANE---'LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS' DREAM------------------------------------------------------

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Saturday, April 20, 2013

CHAPTER 51, KING NEBNOOSHOO BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, MORIANITY PART 5

HELP ME PEE, YOU WILL BE OUT OF HERE BY THE END OF MARCH, and now it is the 20 ^th DAY IN APRIL.

the continuation of “The Epitome of Harrassament” (I edited out the hack date).

first day of 2008 summer, like wow, yo

The Epitome of Harassment – Internet Version

Saturday, June 21, 2008----THIS IS A TOTAL MUST READ!!!

MAJOR COMPUTER HACKING FROM MY QUEEN

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Saturday, April 20, 2013

CHAPTER 51, KING NEBNOOSHOO BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, MORIANITY PART 5

HELP ME PEE, YOU WILL BE OUT OF HERE BY THE END OF MARCH, and now it is the 20th DAY IN APRIL.

the continuation of “The Epitome of Harrassament” (I edited out the hack date).

first day of 2008 summer, like wow, yo

The Epitome of Harassment – Internet Version

Saturday, June 21, 2008----THIS IS A TOTAL MUST READ!!!

MAJOR COMPUTER HACKING FROM MY QUEEN

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theansweristheqyuestion

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HELP ME PEE, YOU WILL BE OUT OF HERE BY THE END OF MARCH, and now it is the 20 ^th DAY IN APRIL.