MORIANITY PART 6, CHAPTER 2

MORIANITY PART 6, CHAPTER 2

3:27 ANTE; MERIDIAN, 18 SEPTEMBER, 2013, WEDNESDAY

At half past three this morning, I sit here in a hot apartment. My air conditioning WENT OUT ON ME A-G-A-I-N, late Monday afternoon, and I began noticing this after the evening ''wore on'', James Harvey Pookah Stuart''. Someone again will be over here today or Thursday. They thought it needed a shot of the Freon-Gas, but that was not the problem, as it is doing the same thing as before, totally not working, leaving me hot, angry, and ready to murder somebody, as I know this was done to me by the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, and you just call me 'paranoid-Joe' all you want to, as I know the emmereffing truth, I should, I've lived with it long enough, Petofi, Quentin, and Barney from 1969!!! If this was Jersey, early in the morning on the eighteenth of the ninth month, it would be real cool outside and with the windows open, I would be cool and comfortable, but it is not, it is hot Fort Pierce, Florida. This computer is on its last legs, and I do not plan to replace it, when it goes, if fucking goes, Lads, Lassies, Labbers, and Labradors. I am all through playing the games of the gods, and the exploratrons which if 'Type-3' in nature, is sort of saying just about the same thing; because once you learn how to do just the few things, that I've mentioned in my Blogs Of Mountainpen, or 'BOM', for a short yet 'explosive' truth that has the capacity to change the way life on this world is lived forever, if properly allowed to come into the limelight someday, you will arrive at your own powerful conclusion staring you smack dab right in your face; that you can go all over the 'multiverse', (anywhere in hyperspace's virtually limitless parallel realities); and do practically anything you wish, while simultaneously seeing as clear as day, that so can all these other T-3E entities, come here, and do the very same thing. This when understood, explains any and every single thing that now is considered unexplainable and utterly mysterious, and continually debated without conclusion on all of the educational television shows and documentaries.

Now yesterday, September the fucking seventeenth, was a SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY for me, and this if anything is a total under-exaggeration. I normally begin my day when I go to sleep, as far as rating it for purposes of making, keeping, analyzing, and formulating, my personal 'life charts', as I called them when I started these things once before, back in the summer time in the year of 1982, while working for Bernie Derakowski in building maintenance during th week, and as a security officer at the Camden, New Jersey licorice plant, called Mac Andrews & Forbes, on the weekends, shortly before losing both of these positions, via the WOMO-MILITUFORCE, only back then, I was not able to consciously bring that knowledge into the forefront of my human beingness as the person I exist as physically right now, Mark Wayne Mohr. Life gets so much easier for us all after we're dead, the little us in our current dreams that is, not the bigger us who we really always simply are, totally separate and outside of any concept of a time reality, or a time dimension if you will.

Folks, I asked GAGA KITTY, or the GAWNUM, invented on the Astral-phase-2-reality by this wild entity, an ancient panther who is a well known and loved professor at a mystery school called the Teck-Bay Mystery School of Province Olympia; many things; and I will give you all his answer responses, later on in this very blog. Two powerful beyond words things needs to be said here first, before I do this. The first was talked about just a tiny bit at the early stages of these blogs. The first of these things was called, back in early 1966, in Princeton, New Jersey, ''The Friday Night Secret'', involving something told to a boy by the name of Peter Hurley, by a close relative, if I am not mistaken, to a famous science colleague of Albert Einstein, Doctor Jessup. Wilson Jessup, another boy, along with Peter and myself; always wanted to be called ''Doctor'', something most eleven year old boys are not going around, seriously wishing to be called by their friends, but then, we are, or have been for some time now folks, talking about doppelgangers, exploratrons, sleep and dream control, and hyperspace travelers. The fourth boy in this odd-club, was a youth by the name of Mark Minor. I met his doppelganger in a parallel universe, years after our last encounter in June of 1966, way up somewhere early in 2009, 43 years later. Three and four are the two most powerful digits of the All mighty Goddess, and whether a wild connection exists here with that, is anyone's best guess. Still, Mark minor went around singing a song that the Beach Boys, the famous rock band of the times back then, came out with in the year 1975 while I was residing in 1118 Linden Hill Apartments, in Lindenwold, New Jersey, and having the telephone number of 609-783-4020. This is where I had my first experience of dying and not dying, just as was told to my two pals at Haddonwood Health Club up in 1995, 20 years later. But all maintenance men with moonlights and other horrible hells from this era in time all notwithstanding folks, let me keep trudging along here in and through this cosmic snow drift.

The FRIDAY NIGHT SECRET, one boy telling something to another boy, all innocent enough, in most cases, how serious could a little secret between a nine year old and an eleven year be, and was it all about me? Well, I hate to keep dragging the British Petroleum folks through the oily mud here, but feel as if I have little choice here, it fits too well not to, so here goes; ''YOU CAN BET YOUR BIPPIE ON IT''.

Years before the recent oil spill or even the Exxon Valdez disaster late in the eighties, there was a time when the great British Petroleum was like Prudential here in America. You know, the thing about being rock solid or trust-worthy, unlike the majority of pop up offers and hacks on computers. This is where before it shortened to betting your 'bippie', it really meant that you can be so sure of something or other, that you can even bet the great and mighty BRITISH PETROLEUM on it. Hay as Paul Evans Pedersen said to me so often, ''Mark, shit happens''. I am not here to knock Exxon or BP, merely telling you how things were once back in the frikkin' nineteen-sixties, YO. But we don't have to venture anywhere near that far backward through time folks, as on the afternoon and evening of just this past frikkin' Monday, came a horrible assault on me. It most definitely IMHO, does tie right into the great 1966 Wilson Jessup/Peter Hurley FNS as well, (Friday-Night-Secret). So before we get into the 3 seconds ago Monday deal, let us first go back to 1966, and get a little of this secret crap, out into the open, huh Beaver, so your dad can be happy, and no more baseball games with your brother need be worried about, too close to your house. You need not worry about the details, I doubt I ever told them, merely that I caught Wilson telling Peter part of a incredible thing, in a stairwell one evening at the NJNPI, a place now defunct for several years, and a place where I spent the sixth grade year of my school life, for no good reason whatsoever, other than to keep Abbey and her friends skating on nice thick ice that even boiling water won't ever be able to melt. I Susie Quattro stumbled right into this discussion, that was so bizarre, that you would never believe it to be anything other than another one of Mountainpen's great 'fish-tails'. So why even bother going there on the blog? It is not for the sake of my own memory, as I assure all of you, I'll carry this night and what I heard, what little bit of it that it was, straight to my grave. Some things, Mizz Jane Fonda, you just cannot ask or expect a person to ever ever ever ever ever forget, or forgive, for that frikkin' matter. The crux of this secret, had to do with how I cannot stop what has to happen; and that Wilson, who was Doctor Jessup asleep inside of, and in exploratronic control over him; was telling this to Peter, and telling him that he is going to have to take me to the Summer-House outside of the 'K-Cottage', before the end of the school year, and before we never see each other ever again; so that he can show me things that I need to know about, in Atlantic City. Bear in mind that I never had told Wilson, or Peter, or Mark Minor; one dam thing about the prior two summers, when my mom and I had stayed and vacationed in Atlantic City; the past one at the Trinidad, for the very first two stays there; and the summer previously, staying at the Treymore; another very famous hotel, known the world over; as in those days, Atlantic City was more known for its great conventions, the great MA beauty pageant, and so much more, and there was no ugly gambling there, it was still somewhat family oriented mixed with business, but nothing real sinister or filthy dirty; at least, not out in the open. The really knock out punching power in this FNS, however; was not just what has been so far told to you. It was years before I was to come to meet a man by the name of Gary Stone, who put me onto the most powerful secret, at the time, in the known universe, regarding eternity cycles. For the few out here who've ever heard of the 'Sidewalk Scientist', a really cool dude who had a wild great television show, aired on the Public Broadcasting Network for a number of years recently; and Wilson Jessup was quite the amateur sketch artist. He had drawn a sketch of this man, and it was not until I saw the show for the second time, as I have seen it three times now I believe, once down here in Florida, once at my trailer before the family kidnapped me, and once while in the house of Judge Rasso on Middle Road, in Hammonton, New Jersey. I heard him telling Peter not only that he would have to take me to the future in some wild psychic-trance, but that he had a cousin who had put him onto how to do this to me, and that he needed to do in fact do this to me, before we parted ways forever, until 1965 came back again in the eternity-cycle, and then more adjustments could be made next time as they are each time. This is a near word for word paraphrase, a good 95% verbatim, would be my best guess if forced to give such a speculative opinion. Now more things were told on top of that; but you would need to be a real fan of Morgan Freeman, or a fan of the Science channel on Comcast Cable Television, and watch those shows he narrates called, ''Through the Wormhole''. But one thing I will remember clear as a ringing large bell over miles of open fields, until the day I expire as me right now, wilson when referring to his cousin, said that she and I would have a very weird infatuation with each other, and that we would be a part of each other's lives forever, without ever being together, well, except for one time, three and a half years from now. Peter starred at him, and I then made my presence known at the stairwell landing, as I needed to, as behind me, were a couple of house-attendants, and they would have moved all of us along down to the lower floor area, along with Miss Wescott, and Salvador Ventura. Now three and a half years later would put the timing at a real Yogi Berra argument to say the least; and on top of that one, Mister Takingitfromthecheckoff; he was not shy about mentioning the area of this person, his second cousin four times removed or some wild distant order like this, but talk about all these royal pain in my ass television shows, such as Misses Durham Huntington, if I can get mike McNulty going just a little bit here, good people. Then there was Delmo Cifaloglio and Darius Evans of the Hyperspace Dreamers Club, AKA the ESS. One day after he broke up with his wife, who also lived near auntie Durham, he came onto the post one evening with his dam teenaged daughter who always used to stare at me every single time she she saw me like she never saw a man before; and he read me the riot act for not being able to be in twelve nonillion places at once like a hyper-electron. I know where that all came from, and then it was good-buy guard house a couple weeks later, and back into the hot and cold cruel elements us poor guards worked again, burning our own gas in our own cars, with no compensation, which beat the alternative of a heat stroke by summer or freezing to frikkin' death by winter. This world is ugly, cruel, vicious, evil, monstrous, despicable, and vile to levels that are unfathomable to even most of the worst sinister devils that walk to and fro, amongst us all.

Right after my air conditioner failed again, and I began noticing and realizing that it had indeed happened all over frikkin' again; I decided to test my luck, using the method that I recently blogged about and told all of you how to work this. Over the past several weeks, my luck was a little off of my normal rotten average which ranges 44.7-47.7% instead of the normal 48.5-51.5%. Suddenly on this one day, my luck factor dropped an entire three percent, an unheard of possibility, although most all things do fall into a possibility factor. This dropped my actual day luck point from 45.1, down to 42.2%. I use a thousand wheels, by having 40 decks of playing cards, and 27 conversion charts, so wheel numbers are first the number of the card-deck, and then followed by the number of the conversion-chart. With slightly over 1000 various hypothetical roulette wheels, it does not get much more random, I doubt there are 1000 roulette wheels in all of Atlantic City. But this all happened after my air conditioner failed again, or really said properly, WAS HIT AGAIN, ILLEGALLY, BY MY ENEMIES OF THE WOMO-MILITUFORCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now I will tell you what I asked the GAWNUM, (GA-GA-KITTY) and what he told me. The answers are very wild, and I am still trying to understand them better and better. But I want this all on the MORIANITY RECORD FOREVER, or as long as possible!!!!!!!!!

WHY HAVE MY BLOG VIEWERS VANISHED AWAY FOR THE MOST PART, SINCE THIS DEATH SIEGE OF LAST AUGUST? PCN-572.

(1980) (WOMEN) (PENINSULA DRIVE) (CURLY) (MICHAEL JACKSON) (LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS SONG)

EXACTLY WHAT WAS BEHIND THOSE THREE WORDS UNDERLINED TWICE ON MY BLOG RIGHT BEFORE THE AUGUST 28, 2013 DEATH SIEGE STRUCK ME, THE WORDS BEING, 'SKATING', 'PRIVATE', AND 'NUMBER'? PCN-330.

(SON) (PATRICIA LANG) (MICHAEL SMITH) (AMY) (USING) (VOID INFINITY) (MARK MOHR WILL MAKE MONEY) (ADOLPH HITLER)

WHAT CAUSED THIS HORRENDOUS NASTY SUPER BOTBAR DAY ON SEPTEMBER SEVENTEENTH OF 2013, PROPERTY DAMAGEM ANNOYING NABES, DEATH ANDROIDS/ANGELS ALL OVER, BROKEN AIR CONDITIONER, SUPER BAD MAGNETICS AND NEGATIVE LUCK TEST SCORING? PCN-341.

(FLORIDA STATE) (LOST LOVE SONG)

WHAT EXACTLY IS THE PROBLEM WITH MY AIR CONDITIONING UNIT? PCN-495

(PICTURE PUZZLE) (PRETTY JOY TOOL) (ROBERT ANDREWS) (LOVE) (TALL) (TAYLOR COTTAGE) (GODS) (SARAH JACOBSON) (CAMDEN COUNTY PROSECUTOR) (JEEP) (DIVA) (NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY)

To give my wonderful frikkin' Morians a general idea of how my LUCK-TEST-SCORES altered on a dime, I will give you an average of the 13 through the 16 day in September, then I will give you just the day number 17 L.T. 10 SCORES.

Averaged scores, 13, 14, 15, 16: Rounded off after this four day averaged period, -2, +10, -7, +4, +10, +5, -3, +4, -15, +6. This totals out to a +12.

Luck Test Scores from ten tests taken, all on September the seventeenth: Nothing needs to rounded off, nothing is averaged, -5, -7, -10, -11, -9, -15, -13, -13, +4, -2.

This totals out to a -79.

This is a difference in one quick day, so huge, that if you do not have some math under your belt, you'll never even start to GET IT, no dam offense meant, hay there's plenty of things that I cannot do. I can't whistle, I don't know how to socialize, and the list of my frikkin' failings are as long as Lex Loo Thor and his mighty super arm from late in the dam seventies, so that was no cut on anyone. Still, I know how deadly ass serious these figures represent, and things for me folks are deadly ass bad, so I am holding on with my eyes closed, and I'd drink a quart of rattle snake venom of someone could prove to me it would cure my nightmare problems, come to think of it, I suppose that it would. Fuck your stupid ass 'ODF' hack, jerk offs. Now on with the show, KAL-EEE-O!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Remember that in parallel universes that are far in the future referenced to this one where here is 2013; are going to contain many ESS GROUPS. ESS stands for, in Morianity, and not necessarily in their reality, Exploratronic Supermind Society. I told you about the SERWA-5, as I term them, the five types and in order of importance. Then I mentioned that below all of them lays a group that just do this, sort of like comparing the music industry with all the millions of home basement studio indie-record-label folks, that all totaled up together, make up more than 90% of the actual pie in the music bizz, but before you small fries get all excited about that; the 10% of that slice, makes 90 or more percent of the money; no differently than the Wall Street deal, and with OCCUPY; and how they have told how the 99-1 deal all works out. Mike Walters in 1980 at the RPL Sound Studios said it best. We're not gonna' do a diddly squeaking thing to change any of this. So folks, I am merely a messenger, you know; reporting these news items to you, not making them. If I had my way, the entire dirt bag ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY, ALL OF IT, WOULD BE TOTALLY WIPED OUT and completely destroyed forever. If outsiders knew how totally dirty it all was, you would see as I see, and know, that perhaps we all live in a demonic world, but this one art of it will always be the undisputed champion and ever reigning KING DEVIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Outwardly they say they are against bullying for one example, like with those Hillary duff commercials. Yet look at how they relentlessly use me, tease me, poke all manner of fun at me, and I could go on an don for a solid frikkin' year with my sad and true war stories with these satanic mother lovers. None of this is my point or motive for the blog of today. Let me therefore move things right along, good folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, these amateurs of the ESS, work alone, traveling, doing their own thing, not working for the most part and in many cases at all, with the collective of this ESS. Still, as with all things, the big powerful part of the ESS may indeed be the smaller actual numbers of the completeness of this travelers group. It may be a 90-10 thing or even more, maybe a lot more than even 99-1 as with the economics and Occupy deal, but whatever it is, and given sufficient time; even the amateur groups form eventual alliances as they go along. Some indeed may choose to join one of the 5 accepted traveler-groups, and some may merely join with them here and there, when it suits them to in fact do this; and other times, work alone and stealthfully. But common sense tells anyone who has lived here on earth and witnessed the way that things appear to be bent towards dark and evil things a lot more than this diametric opposition; and common sense among anyone who knows about the ESS, has long figured out just what the religious folks are discussing in bibles and teachings; when talking about things of a 'satanic or demonic' nature, or evil, and wickedness, and sin; and all of that; and all of this boils down; without any help from Hans Water Brinker Silver; and winning any races or successful operations; to the reality that many of these non-5 parts of the ESS, could be labeled, not all of them, but many of these individualized worker bees in this system, as DEMONITRONS. It takes two very descriptive words, and couldn't merge them together any better for all the gold in Fort Knox, if there is any in there. Also, a really gifted person can see another powerful truth going on here, folks. Our present day internet, is a quintessential fun-house, for these demonitrons.

Now for a large part of the the lessons that will expand on Morianity Parts 1-5, here in Part-6.

As you begin to unlearn all you now think you know, and see Morianity's truths, especially about DREAMS, HYPERSPACE, and EXPLORATRONS; what will be coming up next, will grow so clear and so wild for you, that you will literally want to form small clicks and groups, meet secretly to avoid sociological ostracizing that would absolutely follow otherwise, make no bones about it; and meet to discuss this stuff, printing out each chapter of Morianity, and studying it with scrutiny, even improving on it within your own individual clicks and clubs as you wish, as I never said that I am God, nor do I ever plan to. As you become skilled inseeing things in the true real way, you then will want to begin inviting yourselves, into the great EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND. I don't care if you're a fan of paranormal activity, Ufology, Science, multiple religion and philosophy, and what have you. All is the same, and sameness is the all, as the only realness is the nothing, the great void where we all exist at, without time, without space,without anything, pure existence without any interaction. This is where we all dream out from, and can then set up individual pieces of our so called selves on an astral plane, or a spirit world, the world of the invisible, the deep invisible subatomic. From here, we eventually need to recharge after an eventual expenditure of energy, causing us to dream further down into what is known as the multiverse. This is a five dimensional plane that contains all of the virtually limitless individual universes of space-time. Since all this first passes through the sixth dimensional MIND REALM, on the way out of the void and into the highest layers of the LAWTRON REALM, now we can have individual selves to dream into infinite hyperspace as, yet still, all is really one, and it exists in and as this great void, so nothing is ever going to go anywhere, or disappear, it is here, and so, it always has been and will be. Time is only a reality for us while we live in the hyperspace as the many many us's that we are, in so many countless parallel universes. But here is where I need to take things one step beyond where I have ever gone as far as telling my own personal secrets and how all this stuff relates to my own personal life as me right now. You see, I am in inventor in my spare time, a tinkerer might be a bit more of an accurate statement, I hold no patents, today you need to be wealthy to have patents, it is a very expensive operation. Still, I have made and built and put together many things in my nearly 59 years as Mark Wayne Mohr. I admit to hating the EW for all the horrible stuff that they have done to me, and they laugh and think I'm a joke to pick on an bully, and then have the audacity to run those Lizzy McGuire commercials, admitting to being the epitome of hypocrites. Still, we need not go here on this blog. When I was angry for all that was stolen from me, and all the things that were done to me by this demonic sick Lambrigg cult and its Earthly doppelganger, the EW; I decided to figure out a way so that eventually, we could all strap on a keyboard, and it would be the ultimate music computer. You could make it make any sound and do anything possible, any type of sound, any possible voice or combo of them, any possible sound of instruments or made up instruments, any kind of percussion, any kind of effect, any kind of complex arrangements, all from a simple played tune and several CD or whatever media of the times type of loaded in stuff that would plug into the side, and voile; one person with a keyboard in front of him or her, sounding like the greatest band and the greatest vocalist ever alive on the Earth. Well, I have come closer and closer to completing this invention that has been worked on piecemeal since 1980, and called by me ever since then as well, ''Keyboards From Petahell or KFP ®. But this invention good peeps out here, has a major built in gigantic hyperspace problem, and ?i need to explain that yo you, as it has effected my entire life, and I know that beyond any possible shadow of a doubt. By sampling and copying or creating voices, you will do more than just this, just because society and science may not have caught up yet to knowing and fully understanding what I'm about to tell here. Electrons are energies or charged particles that live in the quantum worlds, because they are subatomic particles, and in the quantum worlds, two powerful things are happening. An ever present escape from the void into dream-outs is an event happening all around the world of the quanta, and as a result, something far beyond what can be blogged, is effecting all of us at various times. For one thing, there are an unlimited amount of non-existors, and only a finite area of reality to contain them. There is absolutely no more room for one more existor, we are all existers, we exist; to ever fit into the area of the non-existor. We must exist, it is the most horrendous truth imaginable, but people see truth in total reverse, wishing and hoping for a hell beyond any biblical description that already exists for you. All these things that are taking place right outside of the void infinity is why the quantum worlds appear to work as they do, basically, not work at all, and not behave in any predictable manner, and so on. This would take a ten year course in a major university, and is not what Morianity is trying to get across, so let me skip around now, and make Mizz Terry Egghead from the Jersey Harbors nice and pissed off for the day.

An Astral word for my invention back in 1980, KFP, is the Enzemeter. On the Olympian Province on the Astral Plane or Phase-2-Reality, the English language letters of ENZ is sort of like our word of ENDS as in that really does END all. It is a signification of a completeness and wholeness. It is the everything in anything. That would be an Astral Webster Dictionary definition as best as I am capable of doing anyway. The part that follows the ENZ is the EMET, meaning on this realm of the spirit-world, perfect harmony or tuned timing, the absolute nth degree of vibratory pitch and timing and side-tone, or said better, greatest possible combination of arrangements for any and all melody played. Then any time the last part or syllable of a term/word, ends with the letters of ER in English, it signifies that all becomes complete and in absolute perfection, when the joining of the player and the instrument are engaged. Originally, I hated these bastards in the music industry so much for ripping off so much of my stuff and laughing at me and getting scott free away with it all, that I wanted to build something to literally put them all out of business. In my own way, I do feel that I have forever taken a chunk out of these heartless greedy rotten criminal dark hearted bottom feeding low life, with just what synthesizers have all done over these past 33 years since 1980, not that I invented them, merely the concept of building the ultimate musical computer, worn in front of the player, appearing as a large lightweight keyboard, with a sort of spongy front so it sits out in front of the user, and has handles so that it literally is strapped to a user like a backpack, only the unit then sits directly in front of the user, with adjustable straps for an individual's height and comfort. The problem s all came however, when you forget to take into consideration that every person alive right here, is a famous great rock star, in many many other parallel universes somewhere, I don't care if it is some mass murderer in prison, or a janitor in an old factory who barely can speak from too much smoking. This is here, but hyperspace contains a multiverse of unlimited other doppelgangers of all the things that are here, all the you's and all the me's, and we are talking numbers with zeros after them that would stretch out past the moon. Concentrically, take every great person here, and millions of other universes exist where they are in prison, or they are flipping burgers,or they are clerks in an office, they may even be your son, your mother, your husband, your sister, whatever. No one alive has any real appreciation f the size of the multiverse and hyperspace. But when you invent a machine like KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL, forces begin to work around you that are very unbelievable. I could be 50 million more words just shaving a little peach fuzz ice off this berg folks, and have no intention of going on with this any further on this blog. This blog was merely to open a new door, and then as always, we will explore the rooms at a later time. There is so much for me to tell you, and we all have forever to learn it, so don't sweat that one for a single second, folks.

THE STORY OF MY MOTHER IN 1976, WRITTEN BY HER IN 1977, WILL BE TOLD WITHIN A FEW MORE BLOGS.

THIS IS ALL VERY RELAVANT TO ALL THE OTHER POWERFUL THINGS THAT ARE PART OF MORIANITY. MOST OF YOU WILL SEE SHY WHEN YOU READ IT AND PUT IT ALL TOGETHER. I'LL BE PRINTING HER WORDS VERBATIM.