THIS
IS MORIANITY,
PART FIVE,
AND PLEASE BELIEVERS
AND L-4 FOLKS,
TRY AND HAVE
YOURSELVES
A VERY
VERY NICE DAY.
YOU
ARE CONTINUING
TO READ CHAPTER
00142.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
IT
IS QUARTER SHY OF ONE AM, 29 JULY, 2013, MONDAY.
40
years ago it was 1973, and right around this time, in that year, I
was attending a school at the Cherry Hill Mall, at the 1 Cherry Hill
Building, in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, AKA Raspberry Valley, in my
so-called book of fiction from 1994, called, “The Permission
Barrier”. The name of that school was not AKKI or ACI, as the
cassette tapes dictated in my book, but was PCI, standing for the
Professional Careers Institute, run by two fellows, Michael Tedesco
and Peter Hasse, and who knows who else? In those days, I did not
have 40 years in front of me already past, loaded and filled with
enough stress and emotional damage to kill any normal hundred people
ten times over. My mind was sharp, and not all broken and gone the
way it is now as a result of four decades of pure freaking hell. Long
story made short, this course was taught without instructors and
professors until the very end where you went into a room the size of
a home that contained an IBM-360 computer, where you then performed a
few simple tasks, and received your degree as a programmer. I
graduated with a B+ in just over half a year. Back then I could learn
in this self taught type of way without any problem, this is not the
case after the horrendous eighties did me totally in, at light speed
cubed. If today was then, I would be on top of the world, but the
largest word in the dictionary will always remain, the word, IF. Now,
I am screwed. I can learn fine with a teacher and hands on
instructions and some practice rote, but take that away, and I am
just a dumb ass fucking retard, and on top of that, since meeting Jim
burr, at this computer school, and his putting me onto this
SITUATION, that SOMETHING was against me and ruining my life, and
even went further into the epitome of weird, telling me it all had
something to do with my god dam fucking family, at the time, I
thought this dude was a total nut job times a billion or two. He was
correct all along, and now, I realize this was no random shit in 1994
that I joined the Haddonwood Swimming Club, or that I sent this book,
TPB down to the US © Office on Halloween Day, 'look out there'.
Still on top of these smaller mountains, I came to know in this year,
that there was no longer so much as one millionth of one percent of
doubt, and that all of this was no game, and that something from far
beyond ORDINARY REALITY, indeed was messing with both
me, my mother, and in ways I still do not know 100%, my family. Them
last two years of my mother's life, she existed in a semi waking and
semi-sleeping state, and this condition of 'zombism' as I'll take the
fucking liberty of now coining this word, like it or not; is known
about by only a few top degreed Mason and Rosicrucian secret
societies. Also, my friend Dave was a high degreed Mason, and snuck a
secret chart out of his lodge one night early in the nineties,
showing who I really am, and who my family really is, and I suppose,
this is why a lot of fucking shit is so beyond believable all over
the place, and thereby forces me to be placed on a very
HEAVY-CRACK-POT-LIST, as without
implementing this methodology of dealing with shit like this; the
authorities would have to admit to the UFO situation, and
all of the rest of EXPLORATRONIC REALITY.
Folks,
this ain't gonna' happen, as this world society is owned and
controlled by real honest WORLD OWNERS, from where I carefully choose
the words in my term of WOMO, World Owners, and MO standing for
Milituforce Otammites, and Otammites standing for the root word
OTAMM, made up by me in 1988, standing for the words, ORGANIZED TRASH
AGAINST MARK MOHR! All of this is real, and disbelievers in my words
can, and this is putting it purple chip politely folks, kiss my ass
and burn in hell. I KNOW WHAT I KNOW!
Yesterday
(Sunday) afternoon, there was about 3 or 4 hours of those assholes
going in and out with their doors, but they did not slam them super
loud, as only that one illegal fucking jerk off who is supposedly
barred from coming here but that's a laugh, does this, and no one
else. Still, they eave a code by using their door hang rug. The front
side is an unmissable large lion, as in KING, that they put up as
soon as they came into that apartment a few months after I moved in
here and lost the other dude to them. During certain times, they turn
this rug hang backwards to a blank side, and I cannot prove it, but
common sense tells me it is some type of a code to their drug
trafficking trade, that they are not in or out of supply, or as
Robert Andrews put it down in Albert Pileggi's basement, on that
night in June of 1975, “WHATEVER”!!!!!!!!!!!!
My
toilet is acting up again, and if I cannot make it flow better, I'll
have to call in a work order. I won't live in a stink box for
anybody. In the old days, it was not just for the rich Kim Spoiled
types, to have a heavy flowing water flush, we all had it, it was
SLOP, as I call it, “Standard Lousy Operating Procedure”, for all
of us in the USA to have the basic necessities in life. Now, because
these bastard billionaires scum bag criminals want to be so filthy
rich, we all must suffer so they can enjoy the Kardashian Dirtbag
Silver Spoon in the Clit Syndrome. There is a slut that makes me sick
to my stomach even more than the mighty horn blowing other land owner
of the Atlantic City Karge World. Common sense tells anyone not
lobotomized, this insane nonsense that jerk fucking off Ronald Reagan
started with all this corporate Wall fucking Street greed, will
eventually come to a disastrous fucking end, and only holy fucking
hell knows how bad it will get first, before shit explodes into a
real CSR, (Cosmic Septic Reality)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! People like this
make me violently ill, so don't worry about my sanity, worry about
your sick world, as a dumb fool of two can see this is not going to
be self sustainable and before the end of this century, a completely
different world will come to be. But before things get better, they
normally get as worse as worse can possibly be, and I am just glad
that I won't mother fucking be around to have to live in this rotten
ass mess.
I
will also have to have the Staples Guru back over this week. I am
going to have this machine serviced and all the hacks and bugs
removed. Any provable maliciousness, will be reported to the FBI, no
matter what happens as a result. In any event, my wonderful awesome
LIGHTNING came to see me around ten past one yesterday afternoon, and
I need to tell her, THANK
YOU DIANA,
AND IWALU, no matter what you do to me TRIPLE GODDESS. When the next
ten chapters come in, you will begin being taken through hypothetical
stuff that must be written, TPB style, but you will get the mind
freaking blow of your life, I promise!
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 158
ALL
SYBTITLES APPLY, NO 4TH SUB
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2296
SEND-BACK-TEXT
DATFILE:
CH-158-053011.608
COPYRIGHTED
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
COPYRIGHTED
MARK WAYNE MOHR
COPYRIGHTED
MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN
SWORN
STATEMENT UNDER LIBEL AND PURJURY:
ALL
STATEMENTS HEREIN ARE FACTUAL,
THEY
ARE NOT IN ANY WAY, DEVIATIONS FROM
THE
TRUTH KNOWN BY ME AS BEST AS IS
POSSIBLE
AND TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE.
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
As
soon as I got off the telephone with my friend, Ann King Silva, I
activated the computer to do this blog, and immediately realized that
my settings again are all switched back to living on 36th
Avenue, San Mateo, California, and the time reads accordingly. Let me
now effect repairs for my true address of 601 Avenue B, here in Fort
Pierce, Florida, and make my clock read nearly a quarter before
three, not much earlier, on this freaking ass
'Monday-HELLIDAY-HOLIDAY' afternoon.
I've
told Ann, all the shit that has been done to me recently by these
enemies, as well as all of the many cousins, distant as they may be,
of her very special and incredible family. She knows about the
leaving of the Egg Harbor Township Library that day in the autumn in
2006 with Ed and myself, after my blogging that I'll be arriving on
10-SC Avenue shortly, in enemy-town Atlantic City, NJUSAESMWG, and
once there, good old non-fully-human ROBERT
MCGUIRE, was right there around us in the shadows, TO
GREET US, in a not so friendly way, ATLANTIC COUNTY PROSECUTOR,
cousin of my Philadelphia Doctor of the nineteen-seventies, Edmund L.
Housel, and brother of Elisa, Joe King's Fiance', Joe is the only son
of Ann King. They will be working on getting me my copy back on my
all ready paid for and totally legal website disc, the
MORIANITY-FOUNDATION, Google it up , folks, have a blast. If you come
from the distant future, and are accessing this through the cosmanet
system, using distance delay channels AX57 or AX592, type in
www.morianity-foundation.com/
as long as it is in the year of 2007 or the latter part of 2006.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Well,
all night long, both of my GODESSESS interacted with me in wild and
strange ways. Memories in this waking human realm right now, are
blurry and fuzzy, to say the very least. Ann knows, and now
remembers; seeing the pix on this MF website, and neither Ed nor
myself, remembers a thing about McGuire sticking his ugly head in my
automobile passenger side front window. Take a look, ACP Housel. We
had no knowledge that this event ever took place at all, and were
amazingly stymied and quite flabbergasted when we developed the film
disc at the Eckert Pharmacy, and saw this for the freaking first time
ourselves. If this is not a major THREAT TO
THE NATIONAL SECURITY, a powerful clan walking around
amongst us with this kind of power, and obviously not timid or shy
about using their powers and abilities on both me, and any or all of
my associates or friends; then I do not know what would be, MISTER
TOM RIDGE, SIR!!!!!!! Then
I told Ann all about the time in June of 1996 when I left my swim
club in West Deptford, New Jersey, called the Haddonwood
Swim and Health Club, that was owned and operated by
MISTER TONY ZENUN; and how I proceeded to go to this psychic shop
just down the road a mile or less, called
“The Gathering Place”; and then that punk Nick took a
hammer and ruined my hubcap on my Saturn Satan Automobile, cool
combination, Satan wrecking a Saturn, hay, who knows; maybe
a house divided against itself can stand up after-all.
Someone
did a Golden Nugget Triple-A Auto Club on me yesterday, calling in a
fake maintenance report, saying my door to my apartment is broken,
causing the maintenance peeps to knock early, and awaken me for
nothing; when there was nothing whatsoever wrong with my door.
Someday, when I know who is doing this, I will sample your voice; and
you will be paid a personal visit from Tom Ridge, and the boys from
Homeland Security. As I said, I only wish I could sing like that shit
up on U-Tube. Computers can indeed come in quite handy. I think it
was done better than 1980, and am wondering if artists still share
the disdain for technology that the great Donna Gaines Summer did
when I admitted to her that I used it back then.
Fire
alarms are hell in public housing buildings. At all times, I need to
be ready to put in my earplugs, and even then, slip on a pair of
headset phones over even this, to avoid going totally ass deaf from
the shrill sound. It lasts until the Fire Department can arrive, and
determine the apartment number where the smoke alarm went off; and
only they can then proceed to terminate this gods awful piercing
sound that in my opinion poses a health hazard to the hearing (OF),
and not twice fucking hacked “ODF” the residents, but this is
none of my business. I am in here saving money, so I can return to
New Jersey, and my friend Ann King; and be back amongst peeps who
care about me. I need extra money, so I can move all my personal
belongings into storage up there, and secure a place to reside. I
hope it may be one of many homes, owned and rented out by the
infamous and eminent Judge Frank Rasso. The day that I moved in here,
and had to get up and work very hard the next day, over at the
HARVEST, www.harvestfoodoutreach.org
; three, count them Lex Luther Supershit; 3 fire alarms went off,
late afternoon, and then the sleep destroying other two, one
happening past midnight, and the final one around just shy of six in
the fucking ass moUUUUUUUrning!!!!! Any fucking cunt eating time that
peeps wanna' make my fucking pathetic twisted ass life nothing but a
totally endless, never stopping nightmare hot fire breathing hell;
they have a million various ways of covertly fucking pulling off a
string of different shit ass things, and never ever be recognized or
caught, for what they really are doing; and that of course is,
killing me, year after year; every night and day, decade after
decade; wrecking and obliterating my entire life, for reasons that
these sick twat-lappers only know and understand.
I
want to make sure that GODDESS SCYLLA KNOWS that I do not hold
her family against her, for any of this; and all though we both
were set up on that night of Saturday the second of August, nearly 25
years ago, I really will always remember in some hazy way, despite
McGuire and Rogers 'Milk of Amnesia' (L&O) strobing hypnotic
powers; the fun we had for an hour, and I would do it all over
again, accept for the part of giving you a fake phone number, and
ripping up yours, I am so sorry.
You would have been worth Rikers Island, and you can tell Paula King
the great TYPE-3 Exploratron, I said so. Nobody is perfect, right
Bruce Pennock?, Vance Grody street
addresses all notwithstanding, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Maybe
I've had issues with many members of your distant clan, Ann, but you
are my best friend. I know that your late daughter, Dawn-Marie,
forced you to write me that note, back in 2010.
Eric,
I know you too, have been placed under some type of extreme pressure,
to hurt me the way you have done. This is why I totally know that
Christianity is fake and phony, MISTER POPE. If a consistent pattern
over nearly six decades of time now, proves beyond any shadow of
doubt, that this thing that is against me, is much stronger than your
so called 'GOD', by the way that you see things; then I will go with
what my five senses perceive every time. I will not deny reality,
just because it can indeed become way to ugly to stare down, and face
many times; and I will still not deny its existence, nor its truths.
It is all nothing but a gigantic humongous hoax that has lasted for
thousands of mother fucking years now. Someday soon, MORIANITY will
bring the OZ-CURTAINS down on all of this, and the world will simply
have to awaken at this point, to truth and enlightenment.
Yes,
42 years ago, I was walking down the great mighty Tennessee Avenue of
Atlantic City, and Sarah was right there with Nina and Paula, and a
car came down from Pacific Avenue, towards the boardwalk, and stopped
outside the shop of the great Karge. I still can hear you so loud and
clear, hollering into the car window, right there outside the doorway
into McGuire's BOTBAR bar and Pittsburgh Hotel, “YOUR
FRIENDS ARE IN THE SHOP”. Some things just cannot be
forgotten, even with a gallon of Doctor Rogers Nasal Spray shots of
Propophol, or MOA.
Lots
of planes are flying around, and have been. Yesterday, I was driving
over to the old place to finish the little shit up, and somebody
removed all of the carts, and the dollies; and I had to kill myself;
getting lots of small, but heavy shit up to my fucking #607
apartment. The same fucking chopper that is stalking me fucking
illegally, and has been for 25 years or so; again, was in front of
me, while I was fucking driving down good old Orange Avenue, around
2-2:30 yesterday; towards my old residence.
It
is only a matter of time before this WOMO scum twisted evil fucking
demonic despicable enemy loses completely, and this is all over.
Someday, I have to fucking die, and then you cannot fucking hurt me
ever again, HA-HA. If this happens, then fine; but the other
possibility is, that you are gonna' be found out and caught, no
matter how mother fucking clever and all mighty powerful that you may
think that you all are out here, mother fucking jerk offs! Maybe I
should lower my major cussing level. After-all, as the blogs of
October 5th of 2008 state, I am not 'standing at the foot
of the stairs', am I right MO'-------NICK???????????? Maybe we should
all click onto http://www.mountainpen.wordpress.com/
and then we can all go WOW, or maybe just WHAAAAAAAAAAA.
Yes,
hopefully MI, you have forgiven me for 1986. It is me who
cannot ever forgive myself for letting things turn out the way it all
did, losing you for a second time. I cry myself to sleep every single
night, ask Diana. Still, through STM, I saw and knew all of this
back on the prior PITSY year of 1994. You know about it, you even
agreed that I was “That-Boy”, and until your parents came along
down the beach and wrecked everything, I was happy for the first time
in my life. I was the age in this interaction of waking mind, that
you are now, today. I told you, and I meant it, and still do, “Have
a nice life”. How Hollywood can live with themselves for
capitalizing on my agony, and endless tears; is absolutely
incomprehensible, unthinkable, totally deplorable, and completely
abominable.
Bon
Jovi's cousin sent me a note saying, “Mission accomplished, BRO”.
I am not sure what he meant or means, and am still studying the
situation. Sorry things fucked up with your cousin, but as I'm quite
sure that you know my friend, once they stop pumping gas, and go onto
make it into the big time, they'll turn on you. That is merely the
freaking story of life in this wovewee ol' world, there maitee. In
the parallel universe where I now am typing this re-post folks, this
never even happened. The only thing that actually happened since the
last time my WOMO enemies murdered me and the WL retraced me, is
still in the future as of this blog's time, and that is Tony Bon
recognizing a tune from 1983 that has not even been taken to the
studio yet, talk about time frikkin manipulation, golly gash darn
shit your pants and WOW.
LSS,
I tried to put all of us out of our misery, and it didn't work. But I
haven't given up yet, so don't anybody count me out. As Jack McCoy on
the “L&O” television show would put this so perfectly and
eloquently, “I still have one more at-bats, so don't count me out”
NOT
THE END OF TWANSMISSION, SILWEE
WABBIT
ELMER,
WHAAAAABIT FWUDDDDDD.
KEEP
ON WEEDING GOOD PEOPLE, WEEEEEEEEEEEEENA!!!!
5555555555555555555555555555555555555.
This will compensate for fucking page eleven of eleven, you disease
weeds from 20 years ago in Atlanta. Georgia.
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.
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. Only where RU
when I need you, oh lovely AG of FLORIDA??????????????????????????
55555555555555555555555555555555
5555555555555555555
55555555555555555555555555555555
**W-Map,
courtesy of CHANNEL 12 local South
Florida TV.**
Note: The
image above may not reflect the current alert state for your county
due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the alert and
the map processing.
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Advisory
Colors Key
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Winter
Storm Watch
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Flood
Warning
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Are you on this
thing, BREAD and IF, OR 'as if', Doctor Garrigan???????????????????
A
beautiful shot of LUNA, also known as the moon, and 'Goddess Diana',
by the Romans.
She
is real folks, you will see when you're dead!
'5555555555'
HELP ME PEE, YOU HAVE BEEN OUT OF HERE SINCE MARCH 29th, and now it is JULY 29, girl.
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