I
NEED YOUR HELP, MIZZ A.G. BIG TIME!!!
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.
10:47
PM-EDST, 25 APRIL, 2013, THURSDAY NIGHT:
That
was what it was before the WORST MOTHER FUCKING DAY OF 2013 CAME IN,
FRIDAY, it is now Saturday Morning at 25 minutes past mother fucking
midnight, electrical number three cubed, (27) April, 2013. Yesterday
was a major super fucking BOTBAR
DAY. Folks, I have a hell of a monster fucking
story to impart to you all today, and if you're not in the mood for a
really major talk with the Mountainpen here, move it over to the
''NEXT-BLOG'', I strongly urge you, but staying here will result in
some pillow talking from DAD, and many other things, they were
warned, and they did not care or they called my fucking bluff or
whatever, Congressman, but that old saying of Dawn-Marie King is
quite fitting here good peeps, “It is what it is”, and again, it
appears to be quite magically buried or cosmically perhaps, as this
contains the built in goddess of Babylon, both and either one of
them, now or back then, my lovely wonderful and beautiful, who else,
ISIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
***MORIANITY
PART FIVE***
A
child knows that a lot of stuff can be learned by visiting my Youtube
site, that will NOT be gone forever
very shortly. Not after that threat I took over at the FORT PIERCE
WEST LIBRARY, 9 DAYS AGO, BRO, YO!
THE
MASTER SHEET FOR MORIANITY PART FIVE:
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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.
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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.
I
DEMAND MY FUCKING PROPS.
55555555
LP ME PEE, YOU WILL BE OUT OF HERE BY THE END OF MARCH, and now it is 26 April.
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WHASUP
VIQUEEN MARILOO?
WHASUP
STOCK BROKER GORDO?
WWYWINY,
MALCALM ROSENBERG OF PHILLY, PA?
Well,
yesterday was another thing that never got mentioned. It was my PCNLD
or (Private Cosmicoded Number Lottery Day). This is twice that the
Florida 3-Pick Lottery, matched my PCN of '871', and I thought for
sure by now that CUZZ DON's number would pop in, also Frank Callio's,
also MC's, after-all, there are only 81 PCN's folks, and nearly four
million peeps in America have each one of them, simple math folks, 81
times four-mill is equal to the rough guess US Census counted
population in the 2010 count, WHAAAA! Well without any weed sucking,
or changing places, or role reversals, or audience competing; let me
move this along and quit with the dam tangents already, yikes, YO!
Now do you see why my kid scares me to death, Pam? I know what she is
capable of, and I am just trying now to appease her wrath until my 18
and out. I see this human life of mine as none other than a total
fucking prison sentence, and make no bones about it, nor do I act shy
about printing it up publicly, Mister Graham, 'TEE HEE HEE', oh
Lilly. Where Are You When I Need You, ED, not you, Mister Himacane
Lynch?
Oh
yes, WAYWINY, and then in past tents, it would become, where were you
when I needed you, right Sam Walton, another December 7, 1941 day for
me, President Roosevelt. These initials change into WWYWINY, and need
and needed both start with the 'N' word, no, not that ugly other 'N'
word. You have no idea what fight I would have put up for custody of
you, MI, if I had known, but two moms conspiring against it, forget
it. Where was all your role reversal stuff when it might have done
the most good, I could ask you, oh great Sarah-Stacey Krassle, my
endless wonderful Goddess?
Well,
it is now in the eighties officially, at 2:09, according to the
channel-12 app on my computer. At least it is nothing like the past
couple of years where by the end of April it was either high eighties
or into the nineties by 12-3 in the afternoon, every dam day. Folks
forget stuff, I do not know how they live so controlled and so
totally ETOSS-HACKED. When I get the occasional hit by these pricks,
I remember those times and can count them on both my hands and that
is it, and it is always something that pertains to my great swimmer
daughter. I still was scared she was going to drown, but learned some
really powerful lessons in the process, me that is, not her. She is
all mighty, and needs not learn anything, other than my brain is a
worthless pile of junk circuits, confusing the address of the
Philadelphia Zoo, with where the great Manhattan ES Building is. It
is on 34th Street, but not Poplar. What's happening to my
nutty mind, Mayor Nutter, and little girl on the TV ad, WHAAAAA? No
one knows how real it is to be ETTOS attacked by this powerful
family. The day McGuire leaves us all in peace, I will be out surf
and turfing, if I have to borrow the money from the dam mob. That's a
promise, lovely Re-max Mo, and WOMO as well, Karen Simons. Thanks,
traitor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. No, I won't brand you, for
old times sake. Laugh time, McNulty!
The
last really bad 4 days went as follows on my systems-roulette by the
way, good folks. Yesterday I made 7 units. The three other recent bad
days were plus 4, plus 1, and plus 5 and a half, TEE HEE HEE, MZ.
MUNSTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Try not to hate your old pal too much,
Congressman Andrews, and remember the good times YO, in 1975, even
the time you refused to give me a lift home that evening after 9 P,
down at Pileggi's basement, or 'whatever'. You had the coolest
stereo, and the coolest girl, Angel. Was she perfect or more like my
daughter?
Hay
Gawky Gaukauk, here kitty, why has the fucking dick licking
persecution over the past ten days or so gotten so bad again with my
across the fucking hallway nabes, YO YO YO??????????????????????????
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW,
SHARKEY MARKEY, PCN-682.
TALL
GIRL ATTACK ON ATLANTIC CITY BEACH----PROJECT
BLUEBOOK----CANCER----QUEENS----MOVING----THE MORNING
LIGHT----BEAVER----PANASONIC OPEN REEL MASTERING
MACHINE----TWENTY------------------------------
HAY
GAWKY GAUKAUK, HERE KITTY, ALL THREE TIMES IN MY LIFE, IN 1977, 1983,
AND 1986, WHEN I TRIED TO MAKE A LITTLE MORE MONEY THAN IN OTHER
TIMES EVER IN MY LIFE, AND SUCCEEDED, I WAS ASSAULTED TWICE
PHYSICALLY TO THE NEAR POINT OF DEATH, AND THE FINAL TIME, THE DEATH
OF MY ENTIRE LIFE RESULTED AND HAS BEEN THE CASE EVER FUCKING SINCE
THAT TIME IN 1986?
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW,
SHARKEY MARKEY, PCN-853.
1954----36th
avenue----stingray-------------
LIKE
FUCKING W----O----W!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Holy Hannah-88, can I please be forgiven for my last fucking lifetime
folks? Thank fucking you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where is
Herbert Huntington, Ancestry dot com, crissake YO? Please do not
darken my shadowy dark doorstep ever again; and no more hunting
trips for your dam son, and his pal McGee's pop.
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!!!!! Double-triple
fucking WOW, YO.
As
always, we could dance all night, and I could talk all day, but no
new fucking songs pweeeeeeeze. The current one has me in enough hot
water to put the water-heater peeps permanently out of fucking ass
business, YO County Jail caller. Yes MC, I did re-listen, before your
5th
cuzz 3 times removed, stole the CD, and all your stuff from my
bedroom. I know the horrible stuff you were letting me see, and
thanks for not offing me. I make you the very same promise now, I
made to Sarah Callio, your 4th-7TR. I will as of this blog, leave you
entirely out of this. I always loved that wild show with the two
continuum's, and how the dude killed himself. That was talent, girl.
Well, I'll keep my promise to you. Also, in return, you keep the
chain, and no more dreams; not ever, do we have a deal oh great Sarah
Krassle??????????????? Only we know what's getting said here, the old
shark knows what you tried to tell me. I always loved those kind of
sci-fi shows, only this time it's my real life, and that really
sucks.
You
enjoy your great VR-GAME, it belongs to you, and I had no
right to ever try and expose its truths, or yours; just don't make me
swim down to the weeds forever, please, my great GODDESS QUEEN, thank
you. Ask your CUZZ SARAH if I kept my promise, other than for
the one quick time, when I just wanted to show the great
artist Billy Harner, her water company.
555555555555555555555555555
COPYRIGHT
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2012, REWRITE FROM 1983, ALSO COPYRIGHTED UNDER TITLE
THEN, “GIRL, I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING”, & NOW UNDER REWRITE
TITLE OF
“YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER”
VERSE
ONE
I'm
so very happy for you, pales of fish so fresh and new
Let
me ask you really nicely, could you spare us just a few
Oh
my wife and kids are starving, could you help us make a stew
We're
down and out, and we will even go to work for you
You
seem to have about a dozen giant pales or two
I
am so weak and faint and do not wanna' be so blue
While
we slept inside the dunes, somebody stole my shoe
Oh
please kind sir, just take some pity, let us work for you
We'll
help in any way we can, and be your loyal crew
But
greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
And
I'm not giving any freaking fish away
VERSE
TWO
So
when you add your salty tears directly in the sea
And
when you're done your song of woe, that you have sung to me
Just
take your wife and kids, and jump right off this big jetty
And
right into the undertow, and stop annoying me
And
talking on and on and on, and bothering my fish
You
loud annoying bleeding hearts, that beg and cry and bitch
I
have lots of work to do, and buckets must be filled
So
either leave this jetty now, or someone might be killed
Guys
like me must catch our fish, like farmers fields get tilled
People
say I'm cold and cruel, on every single day
But
I have got a lot of freaking bills to pay
So
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
THREE
They
say the greatest mother lies there out beyond the sand
And
mothers can get angry when their kids are out of hand
Storms
blow out of nowhere and, a lot of folks have died
The
sea can give and take away, while many tears get cried
And
on one very special day, a greedy man was drowned
Ignoring
waves that swallowed rocks with heavy pounding sound
Just
another bucket and, then he'll have caught his fill
A
lot of daring fishermen forget the sea can kill
The
king fish of the jetty, just was never seen again
Yet
locals claim the winds still howl these words from fisher Ben
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
So
yes I have a lot of freaking bills to pay
And
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
FOUR
You'll
be crossing over, later wishing you'd been nicer
You'll
be crossing over, through the quantum waving splicer
You'll
be crossing over, hearing all the trash they're talking
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll have to keep on walking
You'll
be crossing over, watching all the others eating
Feasts
with banquet tables, where the fish keep on repeating
Forever
seeing many fish, but never on your plate
You
had your time back in the sun before you sealed your fate
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll be a lonesome rover
Forever
doomed to hear the words you always used to say
That
you've been working hard out in the sun all day
Oh
yes we knew you had your freaking bills to pay
So
you're not giving any of your fish away
END
OF SONG.
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.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Without
clicking, yesterdays can just be scroll viewed!
Folks,
I have no time to tell you the whole thing, it would take a hundred
mother fucking years, and when all is said and done and your great
grand kids finish reading it, they and you, won't give a hoot pollute
blasted dam anyway, who's kidding who? Still, I will say a few quick
things, and no force on this Earth is going to fucking stop me from
that.
First,
a few hours ago, I was cooking a fucking steak and spaghetti meal in
my kitchen, when the IF scumbags thought pulling a cute little
Leprechaun prank on me would be nice and Roseann Delaney fucking
funny, the mother fucking rotten
bastards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A
small roach appeared near an opened can of spaghetti sauce. This was
simply to get me to reach over to kill this menacing germy little
shit, forgetting about the can with a half opened up lid; and
'shazam', Gomer Pyle USMC, and 'goollllleeey', Sargent fucking cunt
Carter, Mary Paints McVeigh; if I did not practically take my cunt
eating left index finger right off. Go away, Roseann Tressa
Backtowork Minicoffin Nightmares! But those that know about the
American Appliances Refrigerators back when this entire August 15,
1986 thing all got started, also know that I cut all of my toes off
at Mars graphics Printing Shop in 1977, and in two months, they all
grew back. I thought all toes grew back, and was told later by some
dick head, it was a miracle and I should tell the Vatican. Bullshit
on the Vatican, enough fucking cock suckers are watching me like
hawks and buzzards, huh Apollo-Lucifer and lovely sister D?
What
some may wish to be made aware of who read Morianity, is
thisssssssssss, Miss Erica Lucci snakes of 1983,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!! If you were the only one alive on
this Earth, pretend you are lost and leaving endless bread crumbs
behind you, only instead of breadcrumbs, it is an endless ball of
thin colorful twine. Now as time passes, and you move all around, in
and out of buildings and homes and down streets and into all kinds of
places, this past record will follow behind you. Now bringing the
cold reality back, we are not alone, and so our fellow creatures also
do this very same thing, and also are leaving this endless twine
string behind them no matter where they go, and when, forever and
always. Now instead of 20 or so basic prime and second colors,
pretend we have sight capable of focusing at solar surface
brilliance, so billions of separate coloring shades would now be
possible. Each one would have their own unique color. Now imagine the
interaction of all of us, not us, but this twine after a week, after
a month, a year, 5, 10, and so on. Now take shit one more step still
good folks. Remove the US, just see this endless intertwining weaving
cosmic interaction. Now, you are ready to be told, that this is what
produces a force called the IF, and NOT the fucking other way around,
ladies and gentlemen, and whoever else is out here, so say it, YO;
WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So where are my trucks, TD?
It
is 4:40 AM-EDST, 25 April, 2013, on Thursday morning.
Now
the rest of the topic for this blog is about the invention of these
early eighties personal computers, AKA PC's. First, this jerk fucking
off nabe across the cunt eating hallway from me IS PART OF THIS
BUILDING CONSPIRACY WITH THE COMPUTER DELL GUY, and is why I was
unable to secure any help from him, other than to get a mind blowing
course one night from him about the real WOMO (World-Owners) and that
would be none other than MICROSOFT CORPORATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All
others follow in close seconds or thirds, obediently wagging their
tails behind them; and keeping their heads down, and their yes sir
yelps endlessly strong, loud, and coming. Continue please, you are
reading the section in Morianity for Millennium 3, Chapter #5.
Let
us talk about these PC's, and how this all fits and connects with me,
while bearing in mind the entire time, the little lesson in weaving
and looms and our great great grandma's sowing habits, brought into
the real next generation. First off, without even touching anything
around this little quick next few sentences, let me just say the shit
I feel compelled to say, and get it the fuck out of the way and over
with, YO!
If
I could wake up by some Irish Leprechaun Magic, (ILM) can be used
after this point as a short abbreviation for this three word phrase;
and be a total computer geek black hat cracker hacker, or on that
level without doing anything illegal or immoral, with what I need in
my personal life situation, don't be shy along with me world, as you
know I would use this to my advantage, keeping it as legal and moral
as is humanly possible, but when the road gets real tough here and
there, with all the chips down underneath the surface of the gaming
table, and the skies are all gray and bleak and black and dark; well,
let us not get silly here, or try and fool ourselves. I would use
this and I would make the MILITUFORCE
really PAY for what has been done to me,
and would still quite naturally, be being done to me at any so-called
point of future STM. So the quintessential DUH is of course THEY are
not going to make it real ass super easy for me to reach that
computer savvy stage and point. It really again, as the great Toronto
Bank of WOW says on their really cool TV ad spots, “It isn't rocket
science”, and I'll gladly throw in here, “We do not need your
services, Subaru Vonbrahn. I have tried to spell this dude's name 10
ways back from Sunday, and as usual, MSC is no help at all! Any
celebrated last name spelled as it is sounded out, should be
recognized with groups of words with one being the correct spelling.
Yes, gear shift, no grind, these scum over there have been in and out
all night, 1,2,3,4,5 in the morning, even now at nearly fucking half
past, and Friday, I am telling Debbie that I will write a letter to
whoever runs this building, as this is fucking bullshit, not
'cigarette butt bullcarp'. Yes it is amazing how very inexpensive
items can serve as a spy stethoscope, placed on my door, and listened
to through my headphones on my bed any time I wish. I am a very
paranoid person, it is only a matter of time before I will know a lot
more. The entire put together item cost me under 15 bucks, and is a
great investment, as I need to know what goes on with ENEMIES. If
folks would not harass and persecute me, I would never think of doing
things like fucking this. I had to take a break, and go on, what
David Roth used to call, late in the nineteen-eighties; a 'Crampana
Shit Attack', only his main one that I'll always clearly remember, he
also called the Dark Shitholes Attack, as he actually had the balls
after being hit with a WOMO death beam at the Westmont, New Jersey
High Speed-Line Train Station; to use the back yard woods, behind
Roseann Delaney's home, in Haddonfield, New Jersey; to keep from
browning out in his Bermuda shorts; TEE HEE HEE, Lilly M. Things like
this do not happen with consistency and regularity to normal average
healthy grown men, such as myself and David. So what else can the
explanation be? I am surely not making up this story. Would I be
proud to say I am always getting horrible fucking shit attacks, and
not always properly making it to a facility, over the past 27 fucking
cunt years? Give me a break, Margie Leo, 4 freaking crissake. Let us
return now to the original topic of the personal computer and me, and
our twining interaction. If I could do all the things I'd like to be
able to do with them, my enemies would be in very serious trouble,
until they came over covertly and stealthfully, and did a Marie Fahey
on me, in the name of domestic enemy terror, and the Patriot Act; or
some other total nonsense mother fucking garbage that if you added
three dollars to, would get you a dozen shinny quarters; and that's
all it would get you, YO!!!!!! If this was a fair world, I could sue
the fucking FBI for breaking intentionally, all of my legally paid
for and totally owned, electronic equipment, back early in this
century, while I lived at the Mullica Mobile Manor, just east of
fucking cock sucking Hammonton, Blu-Berryville, in New Green-Garden
State Jersey, let me get off this blog beach for now, GOV, and return
to the topic of PC's and me!!!!!!!!!!!! No, they don't show this
dirty part of the FISA shit, on the great L&O TV show, but in
real-life, they break your stuff, after all; what the fuck can you do
about it, complain; and almost get locked up, by the fucking
worthless Mullica Township Cops, back that day? Whaju say Dawn and
Dad, SHEEEEEEEEEIT!
Now
these fucking miserable jerk off nabes of mine, come into their unit
after visiting with this asshole on my floor with the computer, who
knocked on my door that day on 12/18/2012, when I had Dennis Chase
over here from the local Publix, posting my 'YBCO' harmony track
tune, to my Youtube account, at http://youtube/paulaking2011/
BRO!
I
know they all are friends, and constantly visit with each other, and
conspire to fuck with me, both with my not getting any computer help,
remember the story the resident manager of my building told me about
Tom being bored with nothing to do, only he tells me that he's too
fucking busy to aid me with my PC? Oh yeah, right, sure, shore, most
definitely makes total sense, and it does, and I am not being fucking
facetious, as it makes complete 100% sense. It is a plot to keep me
fucked, fucked, fucked, and FUCKED!!!!!!!! Those that won't see my
story is all real and true, SIMPLY DO NOT WANT IT TO BE TRUE. AFTER
ALL, IT MIGHT JUST TOUCH THEM, OR SOMEBODY WHO THEY LOVE, IF IT IS
TRUE; and that is not within their mother
fucking comfy cozy zones, but is totally within the zone of
the GWPOS, or Giant Williamstown Police Officer Syndrome, that I have
told over and over about an incident that happened in the middle
fucking nineties. WHAAAAAAA-AHA-AHA-AHA, MMCN!
Folks,
I went on a real roll for two fire alarms every day, along with the
nabes back on a roll, simultaneously, and one time was definitely set
off by them, as they were talking to the FD and saying, as I told all
ready on a prior blog, This is bull crap, it is just smoldering
cigarette butts. I merely spelled all of the words correctly on this
dam blog, BRAH!
The
first two thirds of the year of 2008, in its own way was bigger than
the same time period in 1986, 22 years earlier. Studying my blogs or
archiving them at the website at BLOGGER, using this address:
http://drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
or http://theansweristheqyuestion.blogspot.com/
will
reveal powerful beyond wild and unfathomable shit. You can see how
the entire MENTALIST show was created from this blog, you can see
Jason Forrest's comment, accidentally posted in haste I suppose, on
my blog by him, saying how this blog, meaning MY BLOG, is where he
made a lot of money in Cali, to quote him exactly, and so much more.
The real power is two things this time, unlike in 1986. first, all of
the 1986 records are conveniently lost now, thanks to a wonderful
star family, and second, this is more of a recent group of events.
All of my original life journal on cassette tape is gone forever,
unlike my blogs posted at BLOGGER, as well as other websites for
bloggers, during these incredible times of cosmic proportions. Also,
unlike the first time, I know so much more than I did back then, more
things, more players in the cosmic colorful weaving system, and more
aware living witnesses to force in court if ever taken that far, that
will either tell some powerful truths under fucking ass oath, or
commit perjury to keep many gargantuan secrets. Just yesterday, as it
is now 5:55 AM-EDST, a very beautiful two minute period each and
every 24 hour cycle or 'day', on this April 25, 2013; I was playing
around with the WORDPRESS BLOGGING SITE. For no reason about two
months or so ago, give or take a month, one day, I went to paste in
my blogs typed from my word office 3.1 system, and unlike before,
both Wordpress and Blogger sites, no longer pasted it in, as it
appeared on the office document, on my PC. However, the BLOGGER
software, compensates somehow, and places the format back into the
way I had it on my own PC Office System Program, or 3.1 Open Office.
I keep hoping for WORDPRESS to install the similar software, but I
have come to see their game. I think if I am willing to pony up a
nominal 25 dollar fee each year, not bad at all; they will give me a
real domain, so I plan to do this; as long as I can post up my songs,
my blogs, my photographs, and stuff the way I do at the Blogger site,
and have it all work; links, all of it. If this was $25 per month, I
could not afford it, but 2 dollars and change, per month is
reasonable enough for me to say yes, and agree to this 'dot me'
thing. Hay, like the fucking lady at 1101 Robin Hill Apartments, when
I was next door to her, in late 1983, and into 1984; at 1102
Apartment number; said to me through the door that afternoon early in
1984, “It's ME”, and later on, I had a powerful dream where she
forced me onto the roof of the building, and gave me excruciating
pain by some magical power, that blows me away every time to this
day, that I so much as remember that 'dream' for even a tiny little
fucking second. In the dream she again reiterated only slightly
varying her words spoken through my door in waking life or in this
universe; I AM A 'ME', and this wild shit was all written down in my
'so-called' fictional 1994 book, copyrighted in WASH-DOC-600-13,
called, “The Permission Barrier”. In waking life she said
something equally awesome and outlandish to me through my dam door.
She said I need to know something, and that if I do not open the
door, and let her come in and tell me; I will regret it for the rest
of my life. Is anyone reading this, seeing this word yet, 'WOW'?
A
very beautiful full moon is shinning out there above me, 99% full and
still waxing, becoming full at around noon today. I LOVE YOU
BEAUTIFUL LUNA, MY SPECIAL BABY BLOND, AND MY WONDERFUL AND AWSOME
LIGHTNING GODDESS DIANA ARTEEMIS, AND
I'LL NEVER EVER LET YOU GO, NOT FOREVER AND FOREVER AND FOREVER, MY
ENDLESS LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 657 and 123, but does that
equal 1984 or 1983, or even the mighty all seeing Mister fiction book
author Orwell???????????????? Where does 'megawater' fit into this,
and for that matter the great 'SUNRAM'? This is what all came
flooding back to me, in early 1996, under intense psycho-therapy
hypnotism; at the Wolf Clinic, on Main Street, in Moorestown, NJ,
right next to REMOMAX. Wow, Mike Sotas. Bad news, you're no
competition with Super-Girl Keisha. So bring those fire engines
roaring, OTAMM-MILI-2-FORCE, WEEEEEEEEEEE.
Still with all of this said, the entire interaction of all of the
twine all over the world, creates the IF (Interaction Force), and
within that force, is the very gun powder that is needed to work the
magic of what I have spoken rarely about over nearly seven and a half
years of my blogging now, “REALITY-THREE”. We will get real deep
into Reality-3, very very soon.
Diana,
I saw your wonderful moon on the Jupiter Cam, all orange and lovely
and creamy-dreamy, my endless love. I am your little boy forever and
ever, baby-blond; and will be with you very soon, lovely one. IWALU,
BB (baby-blond)!!!!!!!!!!!!
December 12, 2006
More Crackpots- Meet Mark from NJ (MP3)
This is merely a harmony track, I am
trying to make a video and post the entire song, YOU'LL BE CROSSING
OVER, MARK WAYNE MOHR, FULL COPYRIGHT AND OWNERSHIP OF SONG. Now at
the risk of getting crucified, pigeonholed, or persecuted, read on,
my wonderful great Morians.
At
the risk of being pigeonholed as the Girl
Who Writes About Crazy Cursing Dudes, I bring you Mark from New
Jersey. Mark has far-ranging theories on time travel,
Armageddon, roulette and Donna Summer (the DEVIL!), which he angrily
discusses in various telephone conversations.
Station
Manager Ken clued me in to this fella recently. He was
given a CD called "The Meaning of Life." The back
copy states that it was made from a cassette found on the side of the
road bearing the same title. He's really difficult to listen
to, for a couple of reasons- The recordings only capture Mark's side
of the conversation and they seem to have been recorded either by a
microphone placed somewhere in the room or possibly while Mark was
standing outside on a windy day. More importantly, he is
insane. Completely, violently insane.
Mark claims to be both a time traveler
and a descendant of King David. His family will bring about the
apocalypse through the activation of the Christ Android, currently
dormant inside the 12 Planet. And also that the 50
richest families in the world are trying to do him in.
Covertly, of course. Also against him is Donna Summer,
the Devil. (Whether he means the disco Donna Summer, or WFMU's
own Jason Forrest isn't clear.)
Here then, are three selections from
Mark's version of reality:
If
you need more Mark from NJ, Aquarius
Records would be happy to sell you a cd-r.
Now,
if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go cover my windows with aluminum
foil.
As
Bob Chabot said in 1981,
is there any excuse 4U? Signed, da' Mountainpen.
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