Sunday, September 29, 2013

MORIANITY PART SIX, CHAPTER ELEVEN


























{MORIANITY PART 6, CHAPTER 11, SEPTEMBER 29, 2013}













***7:55 POST MERIDIAN, 25 AUGUST, 2013, SUNDAY***



THIS IS WHEN I WROTE AND PUBLISHED THIS,

MORIANITY PART V, CHAPTER CLXXVI




























my pic photo MohrMark.jpg

















WELCOME GOOD FOLKS, TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION. Anyone can join, and the price is FREE.

YOU WILL LEARN HERE THAT INDEED:







Nothing is real, NOTHING is what is REAL. It is all JUST PLENTY OF SMOKE AND MIRRORS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!









Ladies and gentlemen, life is not always the way that the great Mister Smolsky said it was back in 1967, and wrote this into my Haddon Township High School Yearbook. It often is, but exceptions to the rules, make the rules just what indeed they are. What he wrote was, ''Mark, remember that life is a mathematical formula, you get back in return what you put in''. Well, in the case of 99-99.9% of human beings on this planet, I do not disagree with this great sixties algebra teacher for one dam second, Admiral kirk. However, for that always existing and unable to really ever snuff out, despite a million disagreeing Judge Judy's; point oh oh oh one percent of us like myself; THIS PRINCIPLE AND FORMULA, AND EVEN BASIC BIBLICAL SCRIPTURE, DOES NOT WORK, and guess what? THAT PROVES SOMETHING TO ME A LOT BIGGER THAN ENERGY IS EQUAL TO MASS TIMES THE SPEED OF LIGHT SQUARED, Mister ALBERT EINSTEIN.
































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About me

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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
Favorite Movies
Favorite Music
Favorite Books
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.































Beginning the week of these posts, that lead into the twenty-eighth day of August of twenty-thirteen, when I suddenly came upon ANOTHER of my summer time cosmic attacks, beginning back in august of 1996; I on this blog up here on September the twenty-ninth, am attempting to assemble all together, a bunch of previous postings that may have led up to my WOMO-MILITUFORCE ENEMIES all deciding to perpetrate this wild death siege on me, on top of the already existing one since 08/15/1986. So here are some dated post ins, good folks, first the date will appear, then some of the shortened paste ins from posts on that date, all nice and neatly put together for my perusal, and then if I decide to publish this blog, it will be both Chapter Eleven-A as well as also just simply being Chapter-11. So may I now be Uncle Babylon Snooties Gozzwald 175 Peninsula Drive, PERMITTED; to move this right along, thank you very much!!!







Everything that follows this is now part of the dates that show up first, and all lead up to the first day of this 2013 super fucking attack of 08/28/2-13, WHAAAAAAAAAAABIT!!!!



















7:55 POST MERIDIAN, 25 AUGUST, 2013, SUNDAY









OK, good Morians and any and all other folks, let remove into a few other small things on this blog, then I will post some recent text in time reverse order to keep the main theme of the past few days, all within one click into my blog, and not as several broken up blogs, no photos.



Ever since this all started getting extra bad for me after August 15, 1986, the Harry Huntington Houdini Potter shit began growing exponentially worse around me, and never mother trucking looked back ever since.



These bastards have done their little magic again on my air conditioning unit in my apartment, making it work 'speratically'. Mother fucking WORTHLESS MICROSUCKS SPELL-CHECKER is back to being no fucking help whatsoever, I know the word in semi quotations is misspelled, but I tried three different ways, and it will not give me the proper way to click it in, and the word is real and fits, and I'm gonna' fucking use it. Fir the third grade graduates, it simply means, it works off and on, intermittently, oh gee, they spelled that one for me, AHA AHA AHA, Mike McNulty, sir, (MMCN)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











Now for the meat and the heart of this blog:





A few persons out here have put a tiny fraction of my incredible wild life together, the rest are either trying to, laughing, or scratching out their hair to baldness. No one realizes the fullness of things, that shit did not begin in late OHM-5, with Christopher Bennett, my Cifaloglio Security Guard coworker, telling me what blogging is, and that maybe I should learn to be a blogger to tell my story out to the public. Things when these blogs began, were only in the tiniest most recent of the time fraction of all my hell, and nightmare life, just dating it back to 1980.





If I had truly forgotten all about the wild and elusive mysterious and powerful, beyond hot teenager, of my past times as a boy in Atlantic City, LOVELY SARAH; then why did I do two things from this year and over the next three? First, I told Electrician Joe at the McAndrews & Forbes Licorice Plant, on the Delaware River, down at the end of Jefferson Street; in Camden, New Jersey; all about her; or all I knew then, which next to what I know today; would fit on a tiny upper right corner of a normal sized United States postage freaking stamp. Then in 1983, why did I write a song called, ''113 more Shiny Big Moons'', with lyrics that went, ''Long ago and far away, the waters blue, the skies not gray. The sun was bright, her hair was light, but that was long ago. Well I went walking by the sea, when Sarah's broom came up to me. She didn't want to sweep the sand, instead she wants to own the land. Well I tried to drown her in the sea, and burn the water tops with glee, but back she came, against the flame, to carry out her threats on me. She can do some crazy things, impersonating queens and kings. But now she lies forever strapped, inside a field that keeps her trapped. Ralph and Sandy cry the blues, because their queen of hell must lose. The valve of space and time is gonna' blow her fuse????????????????????????????? Well, we've explored this over and over, the reason before any other reason even comes close to needing to be examined, is and will always be, STM (SPACE-TIME-MIND)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I do know one thing without having to get all weird or 'space-cadetty' on you, folks. The 2012 Hurricane Season, named the storms for that group, during the 'R' and the 'S', alphabetically; Raphael, and Sandy, close enough to this song's powerful message, and songs are recorded, and to do this, we all use these magic little invisible HOLY SPIRITS or ghosts, also known as (AKA) ELECTRONS!!!!!!!!

Then Hurricane Sandy struck, and for the first time ever, crissake squared, this incredible storm tore right into the magic area of my HELL, up north, and did a historic amount of damage, causing havoc and grief beyond measure. If anyone out here thinks that I derived the smallest bit of pleasure out of that, you have totally misjudged me. I knew as soon as I saw this list for named storms, months earlier than the actual season began, posted on The Weather Channel, one of my favorite channels on television; that Sandy would not be a Jane doe storm, but one to remember for a long freaking time to come.





Just as dark matter and dark energy are still far from understood, and all because they exist as part of a transdimensional lawtronic circulatory system, that is way too complex, for me to even think of getting into now. No calculation is ever going to unify or tell one solid truth that reveals a perfect picture, unless all of the parallel realities in total hyperspace, are all merged into the mix. Mind is also totally misunderstood. Dozens of things are, but they are supposed to be, until about another nine decades passes by, and them WOW; are things going to change fast around this little old world of ours. Telling people that parallel universes, sentient electrons, dreams, hyperspace, and gravitation forces, all mix together in a wild powerful and awesome way, along with what up until about the turn of the next century, will be called, ''dreams'', and then this word will be drastically and dramatically refitted into the new sociological enlightenment of the educated majority. But let us quickly before rapping this shit all up, GET ONTO this very topic, the education process, the educators, and traveler-educators, why they have this book-code thing in libraries and with other things that we need not even think to touch on for right now; and so on and on. In 1983, the ESS wanted to make one person on this EARTH, totally come to realize that indeed, electrons are transdimensional traveling pieces or better said, PROBES, of the ALMIGHTY ENERGY that we call GOD and other names; and that this entity, eventually, attempts to communicate with the entire cosmos, using one intermediary.







In making CONTACT, fully and totally, all throughout history; a priest, or a chief, or a shaman, or whatever; is the one who is the intermediate channel between the cosmos power itself, and the rest of the tribes of people on the planet, no matter what order or type of civilization we're talking about, all throughout the recorded history of time. Now, I need to tell you a story about a realtor friend or ex-friend of mine from 1996-2006, Mrs. Karen Simons, of Grassi Realty, in Somerdale, New Jersey, just a few blocks west of the house I had purchased from her office in the end of August in 1996, leaving the Williamstown magic 'Flint-Fields' for the third and last time, and screwing me up beyond repair, most likely. She is the one who went and saw that great movie in those days, ''Conspiracy Theory'', with Patrick Stuart, Mel Gibson, and Julia Gorgeous Roberts. She could not wait to call me when she and hubby got home, and she said in a voice as if she'd just finished running and winning, the Boston Marathon Race, in safer and lovelier days of old; ''MARK, you're the freaking taxi driver, you gotta see this movie''. YEAH, I AM THE TAXI DRIVER ALL RIGHT, plus a whole bunch of other things as well, mister Tony Bonjovi Haddonwood Zenun!!!!!!!! A Macy-WOW, if I may be permitted here, Uncle Gozzwald Heinz Yachtsman, YO YO YO YO, and summer breezes to all of you too, Frankie eyes of non Blue Skies, and all other coded poems, or other lying eyes, rhymes, or such EW wonderful utter nonsense!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











In making CONTACT, fully and totally, all throughout history; a priest or a chief or a shaman or whatever, is the one who is the intermediate channel between the cosmos power itself, and the rest of the tribes of people on the planet, no matter what order or type of civilization we're talking about, all throughout the recorded history of time. Now, I need to tell you a story about a realtor friend or ex-friend of mine from 1996-2006, Mrs. Karen Simons, of Grassi Realty, in Somerdale, New Jersey, just a few blocks west of the house I had purchased from her office in the end of August in 1996, leaving the Williamstown magic flint-fields for the third and last time, and screwing me up beyond repair, most likely. She is the one who went and saw that great movie in those days, ''Conspiracy Theory'', with Patrick Stuart, Mel Gibson, and Julia Gorgeous Roberts. She could not wait to call me when she and hubby got home, and she said in a voice as if she'd just finished running and winning, the Boston Marathon Race, in safer and lovelier days of old; ''MARK, you're the freaking taxi driver, you gotta see this movie''. And yes, it is not mother fucking 2:01, it is 3:01 AM, on this 29 SEPTEMBER OF 2013, and please don't awaken poor fucked up me for about another 45 hours, as the song says, glarry ass eyed drivers of all untarouges, and Spell fucking checker is totally worthless, so I know the name for hot shot celebrity drivers is misspelled, and I DON'T FUCKING WANT TO HEAR IT, not from any clueless American new kids, or old kids, in this town, or any town, Mizz Kimmy Wild!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOU.








This actual blog needs to be said, and it all fits together in ways that most or maybe none of you, can really know and relate to at all; but all that is important right now, is that I KNOW why I am doing this, and please just read along. Try hard to absorb this, and simply be my wet sponge for right now; with some tiny bit of an open mind. Thank you.





Harry Houdini has a lot more in common, with Herbert Huntington, my distant cuzz; than he ever may have realized, but that, as Donna Gaines might have put it, when alive; is neither ''hair nor there''! His son Arthur married a lovely girl of the most beautiful land on the planet, living in Chicago, but whose roots were from Ireland, Mizz Alice Gallagher; the one who ended up murdered, at the hands of a suddenly berserk, and totally insane, triple murder suicide perpetrator. Oh well; the plus out of that horrendous day in February of 1948, was that he did not go Bjork as well. Him and the entire family all had enough problems back then, in New York; and as a result; left the nest of a lot of peeps in the Huntington family; and purchased a place in the Boston, Massachusetts suburbs, known as Braintree; and at least until all hell broke loose, that powerful outlandish day; had a pretty nice wonderful life, huh Jimmy Hyperspace Stuart? Now this was not spoken back in middle late August by me. This is me now in late September, Rod and Maggie-May; adding this all into the mix, up here in the fucking ass ''future''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHA-AHA-AHA MIKE MCNULTY.

I knew you weren't going to send me a WOW-CARD, RHM!!!!!





Later on, things may make a lot more sense to my wonderful Morians, but if not; then it is not supposed to. Forces in the great ESS (Exploratronic Supermind Society) know what I will be trying to do on this blog; and they are not all that happy about it. I am getting lots of bullshit as I try to do this blog. Don't worry, I am not back in Moorestown in 1988, and I am not going to say 'hile' to myself in my last ''lifetime''! In fact, I won't even say Lyle, I promise, Jerry Brown, and Muscleman Schwarzenegger; along with any potential ex's from non-Texas. So folks, when you pass judgment on what I say; instantly, picture me flying, or maybe falling; into whatever kind of a hellish abyss imaginable; with no bottom, or any end to this flying fall. Then as I fall, it grows darker and darker, lovely Sarah; and then I will fall ever faster; and then it becomes so bad that I wish I was on fire with oil all over me, instead of this. The only thing that can reverse it, is any of you saying, just on what I say on this one blog, wow, ''this little fucking prick just might have some valid points here and there, Jesus Christ Almighty''. So you see folks, up here in fucking 29 September, I have come to learn, than none of you gave three and a quarter rotten fucking shits, or even tried to believe any of my miserable hellish plight, or even bothered doing my little experiment, and I PAID FOR IT, with a month of total fucking hell, but yes, JUST AS I SAID WOULD HAPPEN RIGHT HERE, HUH GIANT LOVELY GINA OF THE NINETIES, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!





Now that's all I'm asking, so let's play. Well, you all told me to go to hell, and guess what; that's what I dam did, YO!!!!













I am not going to ask anyone to take time out of their busy schedules to archive any of my old blogs from early October of 2008, while I was helplessly kidnapped under Stockholm Syndrome, at 65 Middle Road, in Hammonton, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG, at that nightmare time of my fucked up pathetic ass life, but I sure wish you had done that tiny little other thing that I asked of my loyal Morians. Oh well, O probably don't have any. Basically my viewers enjoy a good laugh, and other than that, screw Morianity, I know that now after this past month of hell, BUT DON'T EVER SAY THAT I DID NOT RUN THIS WHITTLE TIME EXPERIMENT on my viewing audience, Mister Elmer Fwudd Waaaaaaaabit!!!!!!!!!!









I'll simply for now remind you that I posted two blogs up to a few blogger sites, Blogger Dot Com being one of them, on the fifth day in this horrendous tenth month. The second one early in the afternoon, is going to prove at least to the UFO COMMUNITY that indeed, there really is an aerial force in the skies that is in communication with our minds, on all of our levels of awareness/consciousness. I said ALL OF THEM, and I meant to say it. The story of how a dream was really a repressed memory does not matter right now, what matters is that some mother fucker up in the sky in some kind of powerful air ship, was in direct communication with me first, while I lay asleep and dreaming to use your idea of all this, and then instantly upon waking up, I was still, shall I say, CONNECTED, to this, whatever it was, and is. The exact way it all happened is 100% as Yogi Berra said it so well and complete quite a while back. But not only with the perfectly timed attack, and then another major one as I told the story on my word document that was then blogged up before leaving for my job at Cifaloglio that afternoon, but the second I awoke and told Diana through my special telephone that was only connected up to a lightning ball machine, where I was and what had happened, in fact all I said was, ''Diana, I just came out of a powerful wild interaction'', and BOOM, a helicopter with amazingly powerful sound was just instantaneously over the roof of the home where I was in bed telling what had happened to LIGHTNING!!!!!!!!!!!!! As other blogs keep on moving my story ahead, I will tie in about a trillion other similarities; that is not that important for me to do right now. But I did need to open shit up a little tiny bit, and so I did. If I ever tried to tell all I wanted to tell, it would take 500 years, and no one would get it anyway; as you would need to be me, and actually experience most of this fucking horse shit nightmare. Still, I trek on, as what dam ass choice do I have, YO????????????????????????????????????







Tom Reale who molested me as a fifteen year old boy, was a lot more than some ordinary child liking sicko perv. The night he thought PEE SENIOR got at me on the following year, by his outlandish wild behavior when I exited that jitney bus that late night on Cornwall Avenue in Ventnor, New Jersey, proves that if nothing else does. First off, there is no record criminally whatsoever of this man, and according to all the television and legal authorities, none of these sicko pervs just pick one person and do this shit to them one time, and they don't have the endless luck of the Irish, and never get caught either, sooner or later, that old wheel spins around and wham, you're fucking toast, you fagot. Only this never ever happened to this sick mother fucker, but IS HE just a sick mother fucker, or was a lot more going on in the scummer time of 1970? Well, did I really just wake up from a strange dream 38 and a quarter years later, and could some super loud whirlybird really just suddenly appear over the house, as if by Harry Houdini Potter Merlin Huntington, at the split second I said through the phone to lightning, that indeed I just popped out of this wild ass interaction? Well, you all know what Yogi Berra and I think, and now; you judge me, and you judge my words; and you judge my motives. I don't want a fucking thing from my dam daughter, only her happiness. If she wants to play this absurd game for what seems like forever with me, fine. Still, there is so much more going on and this would not be a pencil dot in a galaxy cluster of all the shit going on all around just this little bit of blogged crap. Still, it is all I am going to say for now, about this dogshit. I'll add in one thing more for now. His girlfriend who loved my ''gorgeous hair'' to quote her almost every morning, when I'd run into them on my way down to the fucking beach; was Victoria Callio, and the lifeguard right there at the beach closest to Cornwall Avenue was her nephew Frank Callio. Then there was Mister 'Magic' Allbright and his telephones; and then there was the nuclear shoes that got me fired from my job in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, 18 years in the fucking future. But I did say, I would not go on, so let me be as good as my word, as if my word is shit, then I too am shit. A man is as good as his word, Elly Ellen Helen Magic bus stop, on magic days, in middle July; both in 70 and then 27 years up in the electrical dreaming future in '97; and holy shit cow, KALI; another 80-08 Harry Callas inversion of Phillies digits, and WINS; with or without time trips just a week before the blog mentioned. We all remember that incredible dream, I HOPE, of my being in the Atlantic City Golden Nugget Hotel Casino in 1984, and lightning struck the layout circle, right through number 27, she said to me in that adorable voice in her daughter personality, that the © Office should have from 1988, but recorded in 1972 at the fence; ''This is my number little boy, three to the power of three. I am your lightning''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW, does it get better than this any freaking place on the entire interfreakinget, good folks??????????????????????



Then if the great © examiners ever bother to examine my 1994 book, ''TPB'', they will see how I was technopopping this exact thing into my sentence-codes, so that she would speak to me messages, in her own voice from the age of two and a half, and we could talk to each other, while I live and suffer humanly on this hellish nightmare Earthly interaction. Hay, think of shit like Giant ass Twinbay would, back in OH-Marola-8. Keeping this from being a total wash out glass half empty eternal guy here, AT LEAST I WASN'T FREAKING TECHNO-POOPING, SHEEEEEEIT Dawn and Dad!!





Ladies and gentlemen, my loyal Morians, and all Type-3-Exploratron Visitors, (TTEV), pronounceable as ''TEE-TEV'', how the hell are you doing on this very lovely day? Lovely that is for those not named Mark Wayne Mohr, but I'm desperately trying to eek and squeeze by as best I can, wabbit.



The Roulette game that I observed being played less than a week ago, at the home of one of my doppelgangers in more distant hyperspace, has made me a thousand dollars in a half hour of play. But as with the ways of all flesh and hopes of humankind, it went the way of dogshit cubed, and all fell apart. You cannot trust anything world, NOT ONE MOTHER FUCKING THING, NOT YOUR FUCKED UP FAMILY, SO-CALLED FRIENDS, NO ONE, NO HOW, NO NOTHING, DOROTHY ROSS GOZZWALD, AHA AHA AHA AHA, MMCN, KIND SIR, FROM FUCKING ASSHOLE 1971!!!!!!!









Now moving on with updating my MORIANITY HERE; I have had some great times with my beautiful Lightning Goddess Diana, at really exotic tall waterfalls, the past several ''sleep-times'', but she does wear me out with all of her hot passionate wild love making, and I fall away from there into localized and sometimes more distant hyperspace interactions in parallel universes, and some you know about as I've blogged them, and many others, you do not. As more and more localized parallel universes begin to have events that would be totally within the range of possibility in your own, the odds begin to increase that you will take this transdimensional BAGGAGE back to your universe, where you have a physical body 'asleep in a bed', waiting to escort the real-YOU throughout waking life and the following days it may contain. This has not been completely formulated on the great think tank blackboards, but will be in the coming century. I have met a very world renown scientist and physicist in the middle of the next century, in localized hyperspace, back when I was 'dreaming it was the early nineteen-nineties', You might put it more like, ''Back in the 1990's, you were dreaming this'', but you'd be saying it all backward, no matter how you might insist that I am wrong and or crazy as a loon bird. Aniwho, Flo and Poolbox; this man had gone way beyond the many known mathematical formulas of quantum and quasar mechanics, and what is now already known but not advertised, so as to keep a little more sanity for a while, amongst the human population, with things concerning what they come to term and label, ''UPLINE-DOWNLINE UNIVERSE. They know right now and have it all backed up 100% with total math and no chance for error, that this entire universe came from less than nothing. Not a singularity, as that is just the near death experience travel gateway, the tunnel, the black-white hole connection tube, known as the slang term that stuck, the ''WORMHOLE''. But moving this along folks, before our universe began its dimensional trek through one of these near-death-experience-tubes (NDET) AKA wormholes, all of it existed as a small tiny part of the upline universe above and beyond it, on the other side of one of these traveler tubes as I call them in my own slang. By our frame of reference, this upline universe is larger than all of our universe all combined, as it has to be, in order to fit through the zero dimensional singularity, and shoot through here as the white-hole it is, from its other upline black-hole. As I said, right now, all the mathematics absolutely supports this to be totally accurate and true, but let me tell you what this guy 140 years from now was able to put on his great blackboard, that would have made both my father, and his pal Albert totally salivate over like two drooling babies. He worked out some powerful ass equations on exactly how all of this upline-downline energy has a ratio to the void that by its very nature, permits all singularities to share its sameness, all that's needed in space-time-mind to be maxed out all the way, AG or Absolute Gravity. At absolute gravity, a tube springs out from it as though it had been under pressure of infinite sofa springs tightened to their max, and then released simultaneously. Space-time-mind (STM) is the sixth dimension that literally makes the fifth dimensional hyperspace in its entirety, down below it. This same mind is what in some wild type of individuality, is one and the same with all intelligence within the hyperspace, on all levels from one celled creatures to virtually unlimited advanced intellectual entities. Still, the formula goes onto prove that above this MIND or STM, is an unfathomable mother board circuitry of some kind, way too far beyond human thought as of 2013, that literally does the one thing that no one yet has a clue about, from the greatest religious scholars to the greatest minds in science with all their degrees plastered wall to wall from coast to coast and then some more. I speak of what loops the fifth dimension onto the sixth, the sixth one onto the fifth, and so on and so forth along these lines, and to make it a lot simpler and understandable, how about if I put it this way? You have our universe and then before our 'big-bang' all that was there above it through the other side of Alice's looking glass, the hole that all this blew out through in other words, and then above that world, are worm holes all over the place and above that, more of this, and on and on forever, and in like manner, we have our worm holes all over our universe that go onto sprout out virtually unlimited ''daughter-universes'' in this same fashion, and each one of them, also, downlined below us, doing this on and on, also forever, yet there is a provable formula that some ''something'' on the seventh dimension, has sort of programmed if you will, a maximum total of universes now matter how unfathomable this total number may be, far beyond a vigintillion to the power of a vigintillion, yet it has a limit, because as with all things in cosmos, things begin to carry weight as they move on and out from center points and thus start to curve down and around, and into the programmed-sphere, for a total lack of better terms or words here. This forces the entire system to have a maximum point of total size, and nothing is outside that size. Did anyone get this at the think tanks, as I'll repeat, NOTHING is what is outside this size. Lawtrons are the intelligence of nothingness, and they simply are what they are, these laws are in-transmutable, and these things are just that, what they are, putting Dawn King nearly two centuries ahead of her time, her and all of her friends and peeps and fam. ''It is what it is'', I'll hear her saying that for the next 900 years, Squire Garth Trilane. This is the science of how infinity cycles all fold into each other as well, but the biggest part is that there is one astral plane where lawtrons dream out of the one and only true nothingness-VOID onto, and from there dream-down further into fifth dimensional hyperspace, or all of the unlimited parallel universes of space-time, or virtually unlimited aniwho. Small parts of these truths were once scattered throughout my website, now defunct for lack of funds to keep it operational after early 2009, the Morianity Foundation, www.morianity-foundation.com/ If you are reading this from a distant TBAC, (terraformed biosphere asteroid colony) out in distant space, and can tune back to Earth in the year of 2007 and 2008, there are prompts on the then operational multichannel SWISS SYSTEM, go to the channel where that internet is adjustable from March 1, 2007 through March 1, 2009, and slidegear towards the middle of the band where I know the site is up and running, and use that link, as now you have managed to get to this page from doing that. WHAAAAAA!!!











Many things will be talked about over the course of the rest of this summer and into the autumn. For right now, I have not yet left the apartment for any distant ports in the storm. Also, I screwed up on some earlier blogs, 1980 was PITSY-1, or so I said, WRONG, it was PITSY-2. Here is the accurate Port In The Storm Years for me, or the PITSY-GROUP, if you will!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



1969----------------PITSY-1.

1980----------------PITSY-2.

1994----------------PITSY-3.

2011----------------PITSY-4.

2031----------------PITSY-5.



The only problem is that this formula that is based on a very accurate yet simple mathematical sliding scale of future years, from 1969, and beginning with 1969, whereby up through PITSY-3, all three worked in a perfect order, leading me to project into a PITSY-4 and 5. I however neglected to remember the powerful laws in QUANTUM PHYSCIS, that pertain to electron-observation, a still not fully nor totally understand concept, as it relates and connects into and throughout such matters as dark or transdimensional mass and energy. This is why the great AE only concluded there was SPACE-TIME, and never was abler to see what exactly brought this thing to be in the ''first place'', a misnomer by its very usage of connected words.









LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING MORIANITY PART SIX,

SO PLEASE ENJOY, AS THIS HAS BEEN CHAPTER NUMBER-ELEVEN.




I AM GETTING READY TO CALL 911, AS IT IS TREN MINUTES SHY OF 4 AM, AND THIS ALL DAY FUCKING SATURDAY PARTY, WITH IN AND OUT AND DOORS AND VOICES AT ALL HOURS, IS TOTALLY FUCKING ILLEGAL!!!!!!!!!!














Live Camera image from Jupiter Inlet Lighthouse




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




THIS CAMERA SHOT HAS BEEN STUCK HERE FOR A SOLID MONTH, CHANNEL-12.

FOLKS, I WILL TELL YOU A LOT MORE ABOUT THE EDUCATOR FACTION OF THE EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND, AND JUST WHAT THEY HAVE BEEN DOING WITH THINGS LIKE GODS, ALIENS, SAUCERS, PARANORMAL ACTIVITY, AND ALL OF US, FROM PYRAMIDS TO ANY MIRACLE OR UNEXPLAINED THING THAT ANY OUT HERE CAN POSSIBLY EVER THINK OF TO ASK ME, BUT NOT TODAY ON THIS BLOG. THIS IS WHY SARAH KRASSLE INVENTED NEXT DAYS, OR AS GAB MIGHT PUT IT, NEW DAYS, REAL COOL SHOW! BUT THEN ANYTHING THAT MARIAH CAREY IS INVOLVED WITH IS BEYOND GREAT. I KNOW!



Around close to eleven last night, Diana Arteemis paid me a very special visit. She was beyond beautiful, beyond hot, and beyond awesome. She dazzled me with every conceivable color and type of her scrumptious lightning imaginable, CG (cloud-2-ground), Intracloud, a term not yet recognized in general non meteorological dictionary systems, and even a few ribbons. Also, this went on until nearly two this morning, about three or more hours. I later fell asleep and took my baby-blond to a beautiful park containing several unfathomably ravishing waterfalls, as Diana loves waterfalls with a passion. It's literally like taking your kids to the beach after ten grueling months of books and school and typical miseries of city or town life for the average child. They get to the beach, and literally, as the old and not so Tommy Roe polite expression goes; ''go total ape-shit''. We had such a wonderful time there together, but unfortunately, I have a working physical body here, and so my experience can only last until the cycles all play out biologically, and I'm forced to awaken back into this horror show called, ''my life''.

NOW, make that BACK TO BACK NIGHTS, folks, WOW, MISTER R.H. MACY, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!











TRIPPLE WOW, RHM, SHE CAME TO SEE ME ABOUT 5 DAYS AND NIGHTS STRAIGHT AND AS DAVE ROTH SAID, WATCH OUT, THE MILITUFORCE DOES NOT LIKE THAT!!!



L-4, I have very shitty nabes. This has been a very noisy fucking party weekend, up here on this 29 September, and 911 will be called very mother fucking soon, YO YO YO YO!!!



Now back to the blog, folks, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was another mother fucking SUPER BOTBAR DAY, SATURDAY, AND I PREDICT THE ENTIRE WEEKEND WILL GO SUPER BOTBAR, BUT I WILL CALL THE FUCKING COPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have had computer hacking, par for the course every day now, but major shit, major noise all day long, many fire fucking alarms and for the past week it started up much heavier again, and I could TYPE ON AND FUCKING ON AND FUCKING ON FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT you can know!



Folks, any one shitty bad thing ongoing with my life, by itself, is nothing more, at least in most cases; as sort of a, ''oh yeah, you know, that ain't so bad, and also, gee, don't make a big federal case out of stuff and see a million coincidence monsters all over the place, and get all paranoid and psychotic'', kind of deal. Well, that is exactly why things work as they do. None of these WOMO bastards ever wake up one day and go, ''Hay, let's give poor shit head tard Mark all the proof he needs to sue us all for 50 billion bucks and wipe out our reps and be the overnight sensation he should be, after-all, it is him who's behind 30-60 percent of every fucking thing going on in the entertainment world, and even the world in general, since late in the sixties somewhere. No folks, don't wait for any of this unless you enjoy sitting and waiting some place for maybe a thousand god dam years, and then hear, ''Sorry, we're out of business now; get a calendar''.



Here is how real stuff does operate and go down, maybe with all of you, only I feel confident merely to speak for myself. First off, no one gives away the store, no one makes it easy for the other person, and when anyone for any reason, wakes up one day with very powerful disgruntled enemies, life suddenly becomes darker and bleaker than an amusement park horror house such as the old Dorney Park Devils Cave, of the early sixties, up in Allentown, Pennsylvania, Billy!!!!!!!!!! Whoever in 1983 did their promotions, great as this park is; left me totally knowing that they all knew me, and my music, and even MY FUTURE, but don't panic folks, travelers are amongst us and always have been and will be, and are labeled by me, this author of Morianity, as TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS. This is so yesterday's newspaper by now, it sucks wind backwards at light speed cubed.





Now it is times like these where some of my readers think that this entire 8 year blog project is just some big work of unknown things about the great world renown pop diva, we all know and love, Mariah Carey, AKA MC by all of us loyal and loving fans. Well, a more careful, and open minded review; would bring the obvious truth to light; that this is a total falsehood. I cannot help it if as things progressed along, many things from actual events and real suppressed memories, took us where it took us, right straight to her door at the tender age of toddlers, and much more, this is as Ziggy Malyeska would say so well at an extremely apropos time in July of 1969, and I'll quote him, ''That's the way it goes''. When Chris Bennett my coworker security officer at the Cifaloglio post, back in late OHM-5 and into OKM-6, suggested I begin something called, ''BLOGGING'', totally alien to me, the word, the deed, even computers and internet for the most part; I sort of hesitated a while, mulling things all over in my mind very carefully, trying to scrutinize minute details and weigh the old business world 'cost benefit reward, ratio and or analysis. Eventually, I took myself to the Hammonton, New Jersey Public Library, and learned how to do some very basic things, and went onto open up shop and start a small little blog, on the one site used at the start of all this, www.blogger.com/. That stupid light bulb hack is back and I blocked it with my little blocker card that I keep right here at my work station, but it did me a favor, as I needed to block the time anyway, for a soon to come Jane Bitchweedsdisease clock attack at eleven minutes past one, shortly. Now I will not get fucked and see three of those nasty ass ones. Still, at eleven-eleven this fucking morning, I got struck hard and fucking fast, by my large digital clock; not thinking clearly, due to my scum bag shitty roach slob nabes from across the hall-hell. The joke is on everybody, as I need to make a donation of multiple servings of Chocolate Pudding, to the WOMO-MILITUFORCE, right about now, and need to log off and re-start this again after a take care of that and clean up with a nice bath and shave, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now I am back, and yes, © Office and lovely Jeanne, on 'regular time', at 5 minutes shy of two. Let us look at the airport photo on the WEATHER-BUG CAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Or better still, let us NOT.

















Yes, I did screw up a little bit, I am very very very old, ask INGRID-84, she knows that indeed, there is a lot of ''BAGGAGE''







''BAGGAGE''

''BAGGAGE''

''BAGGAGE'' ''BAGGAGE'' ''BAGGAGE'' ''BAGGAGE''

''BAGGAGE'' ''BAGGAGE''

and did I forget to say, ''BAGGAGE''????



I'll take that W---O---W CARD if I may be Gozzwald permitted, Mister Macy. Thank you!





WOW, RH. WOW, RH.

WOW, RH. WOW, RH.

WOW, RH. WOW, RH.





Yes Mizz Zebriski had property somewhere either in Saint Thomas or one of those butt-wiping islands just southeast of where I live as I pen these words to you all now, electronically.

Yes Mizz Zebriski had property somewhere either in Saint Thomas or one of those butt-wiping islands just southeast of where I live as I pen these words to you all now, electronically.

Yes Mizz Zebriski had property somewhere either in Saint Thomas or one of those butt-wiping islands just southeast of where I live as I pen these words to you all now, electronically.

Yes Mizz Zebriski had property somewhere either in Saint Thomas or one of those butt-wiping islands just southeast of where I live as I pen these words to you all now, electronically.



Helen Zebriski's dish daughter, Andrea, was a story all in its own right, that the great high and mighty ATLANTIC CITY LIFEGUARD FORCE HAD MANY A GREAT LAUGH OVER, I AM SURE, CARLEY NOTVANE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know when people are laughing at me and teasing me, and have known this little ignorant Illuminati deal ever since many decades ago ever went by, only where they went by, don't ask, pweeeze! I do not hold a copyright on my life and its weirdness nor the total journal of all that's been done to me by the great LAMBRIGG CULT OF THE ASTRAL PLANE, known here in waking mortal circles of this physical plane as numerous cults and groups that may or may not even be aware that they are all one giant ASTRAL REALITY, dreaming down here and causing me nightmares, tears, and KALI HAVOC. Soon, I should have my 29th copyright, and this list should sometime late this year or in 2014, reflect it, as the title given to it, with the title track being ''You'll Be Crossing Over'', but the actual given project title that will display as number 29 on my copyrights List Form as shown here, will be, ''MY YOUTUBE MUSIC''. Funny though, as folks, there is no more YOUTUBE, not for me. I'm done being Scylla';s fucking puppet for her dam ass amusement here on this rotten lousy old Earth. If she wants to use that great right cross me, fine, I am telling it up front and straight, LUCKY-MOVIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Are you there, R.H. Macy, sir?







Upon rare occasions, I have made mention of an Astral-plane musical instrument, the Enzemeter. On the physical world, this is a combined group of special electronic circuits, along with what would be a conventional keyboard, if it was properly encased and put together in a normal way. This device if ever all put together and properly fitted into one well contained machine, would indeed appear as a musical keyboard, with a very soft foamy or rubbery front, that is attached to the lower area of the keyboard; below where the keys would flop over it; and on each end, handles would exist; attached to a harness that would fit over a player's head, so that he or she would be able to sit or stand and play this device, without any conventional type of a stand; and be reasonably comfortable for extended periods of time. It would contain a very powerful and special software disc, allowing it to play any conceivable percussion sounds, any conceivable musical sounds, and any conceivable vocal sounds, along with a computer perfect mixer system, sonic equalization, all possible effects; and whatever is now possible with many combined devices, all used in conjunction to make up something that after it is played, it can be recorded, and sound like any 'radio-ready' tune, of any market, of any time period. This sounds like one hell of a fantasy, right? WRONG. 20 years ago, when internet was barely a small dream coming alive, what we now have and now can do, would make what I just described, as far as advanced possibilities in this application, seem tame, and would not raise a single eyebrow in a room. Now this device exists on the Astral-Plane as I said. It is called an Enzemeter, and is played often by Isiscylla, the great Goddess of Music, and anything else, for that matter. In 1980, I witnessed this goddess using this, to sing a song to me, called, ''Love Is For Carpenters''. After this happened, I began building a lot of similar things to attempt emulating this contraption. I'll go as far as to say that I did a lot of wild stuff, but never totally built a freaking Enzemeter. Still, in 2012, I decided to take the idea of combining all possible existing technologies, and a few of my own; and when all put together; since it is not quite as good as an Astral Enzemeter; give it the name of, ''KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL''. Only I know why I call it that, and I don't plan to ever tell this secret, not to a dam soul, not ever. Still, KFP is indeed ® and logo-created, and made official, just as all of ''MY YOUTUBE MUSIC'' was also, before the actual sending of the $65.00 check, and the application form, and the cassette tape of that music; down to the United States Copyright Office, back on July 3, 2013. Guess who just came by to fuck my day up some more, but lovely MISS BITCH, JANEYSLEAZETRASH herself, at one mother fucking eleven, so let me compensate for this horror show from over 20 years ago at the Georgia ballpark with her miserable rotten ass Atlanta Braves Baseball Team!!!!!!





55555555555555555555555555



This is not the first attack, as I was struck while watching the cunt lapping news, 2 hours ago at freaking eleven-eleven, also, so again with another freaking ass row of lovely fives, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

55555555555555555555



Yes, Mister Macy, where's my Ricky Dyfis Divvis dime from HTHS, and for that matter , my W---O---W card?



























SHARKEY SAYS, LET'S GET IT ON, LOVELY ROSEANN!!!




Hay girl, Leticia Tilley, whassup, YO? Tell BOO, next time he goes to my county lock-up, call 1100, and not me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Be friendly, YO, give me a holler, as Dawn said you liked me.











So how does all of this fit together? Well, in all candor, that would take ten years of straight blogging, and who would ever read a fraction of it? We would be discussing two and three quarter years after the LOIS FOCA interaction of 1980 or my ''attempting to wipe out the EW from my Atco rental home bathtub''; something discussed a few times on prior-blogging text, we would be talking about eventually eliminating the need for entertainers, we would be talking about power drains, and other PK initials, and archers; both of the bow and arrow, as well as the mechanical kinds; and before it all would be told, it would be about 50 times more complex than all the known quantum and quasar Mechanic disciplines and equations of the world. So as the angry man on 'Fonda's Jury', Miss bitch's wonderful great daddy, would say so perfectly and revoltingly, ''OH FUCK THIS SHIT''!!!!! Now I need some help in putting together some make shift junk; and am attempting to get someone over here; an employee of the great Port Saint Lucie Bonjovi Entertainment; and that is all I can say. However, there is a truck load to really tell, and just cannot be told. I am not intentionally holding back information from my Morians, but simultaneously; I am avoiding committing a major agonizing and excruciating suicide. And 'THAT' is indeed a 'PROMISE', lovely MO-nique, thin, or phat. Still and moving on; and great movie from OHM-6 girl; let's just skip 99.99+% of junk, and get back to the tape in my car system at the Jersey Pine Barrens, that day in 1997, with Dave 'Thundervoice' Roth; when he snapped out after hearing me crying like a dam ass baby; and then me in the car laughing at myself, 'LFLD'. You really do have to see the humor of the 'stair-chases'. I was the one who taught her this, and realize it now, Mister Heitzmann of Bellmawr, oh mighty Huckleberry Hater-88 and many other possible 88's. I found myself doing a double-take driving back from Bonjovi's fucking place yesterday afternoon. Don't ask, and I won't fucking tell, OK, Bill Clinton; old 'park doppelganger pal of 1995'????



Yes, Enzemeter's, Scylla Goddesses, and Advanced Robotic Panther's; so what's next, blondie?????????????????????????





Three mother fucking ONE'S JANE BITCH SLEAZEWEEDSDISEASE ASSAULTS in less than 3 hours. Must be going for a fucking 'McGinty World Record', huh Steve; Tellmeallyourproblemsmarkbackin1996????????????

The mother fucking ''PAGE ELEVEN OF ELEVEN'', is on my computer fucking screen; it seems I cannot win tonight in here, YO DOGS, W---O---L---F.



They made fun of me in 1986 when I walked into the Jersey casinos wearing my Roulette Enzemeter. But I know something now, that I did not mother fucking know, back in fucking rotten ass 1986. I could have walked in there with Mister BO-Jangles, and his dam resurrected dog; and it would make no difference in the outcome. I could have bet in total reverse on every bet that I lost on, and again, no difference, Mister Fazer Firing Landing Party Away Team Crystalline Entity Star Trek Original Show Fighter, NO DIFFERENCE WHATSOEVER, right William Shatner, my old 'thank-you letter' pal? Hell at least my kid came through on that one, in a 'Mirror-Mirror' Spock-beard world; you lousy egocentric son of a bitch.



There are about a dozen things I want to tell you folks, but I am tired and need to crash into sleep. If mercy was real and not a smoke-mirror-hot tar road surface eye-trick; I'd stay asleep, 4-FUCKING EVER!!!!!!!!! Ga'hed, say it Dad and Dawn-Marie, ''SHEEEEEEEEEEIT''. Don't make me HURL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!















What nobody is aware of, is that huge things are around the corner, and is why the stock market is whip sawing and see sawing back and forth, like 50 powerful men playing Tug-Of-War, with 25 men on each side holding the rope.















Eventually, one side will prove a little stronger. This is not just something recently beginning, and is more like something recently ending. A long journey, just about to be completed, only it still is not over, as the traveler may have been gone a million years, and came from the distant stars; but home is yet an hour away; and robbers and murderers still await him along the roadway near to his home, and at any second, can finish this poor bastard off in one mighty fell fucking swoop. This is not some philosophy, and it certainly ain't poetry; so forget Shakespeare, or Romeo and Juliet; or even similar names. This is DEAD FUCKING SERIOUS BULLSHIT, whether or not any of you are getting it yet or not, and very soon; you may just be going, oh yeah, that little fucking bastard said all that back on the cunt eating thirteenth night in June, and wow; now look at shit. That's all you fucking need to know, great folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No this is not the crazy rantings of lunatic Mountainpen, nor even the nightly resurrections of Roseann Delaney, or the one time resurrection of the great Lord and Master King Akoslem, also known as (AKA) Jesus Christ. Without delving too deeply into anything in particular in order to safeguard great things as much as is humanly Pennock-possible, I will only say this. The WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE woke me up very very very Hurricane Ingrid ill this morning, with a sore throat so bad that I wanted to punch a mother fucking hole in my wall. After lots of lozenge tablets and chewing on Buffered Aspirin for most of the day, I AM OK now, but I AM NOT ICY ISIS, lost in time, or chillier than an ice machine, with or without any Trinity chemtrails, hotels, machines filled with ice cubes, balconies to be dangled off of, or curly haired lost daughters of Carlisle Avenue, huh Ron Bustrips Wirtz, of the Camden County, New Jersey, Prosecutor's Office? Oh sir, I did plenty of legwork, as you so instructed me to do back in the mother fucking rotten middle nineteen-nineties, YO YO YO YO and not bounced around from town to town, or other such 1988 copyrighted shit in my fucking ass name! Ga'hed, say it Dad and Dawn-Marie, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT! Ga'hed, Mike McNulty, laugh out loud, AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA! Morons!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You all think you have all of the answers to everything. Even Einstein was totally fucking clueless about how to beat Roulette, using parallel event, time's reflection, and just why it makes sentient beings aware to roughly 400 tiny instant little pieces, each and every minute of the clock while they are in hyperspace. Wanna' really know a fucked up secret, not that anyone out here's gonna' fucking believe a dam ass word I say, BRO? This great man was unable to perform many simple tasks, including the tying of shoelaces until his fifteenth birthday, and even then, there are photographs of his shoes tied all his life, in loose knots, rather than bows. He, like me, was great at being able to see obvious things all around us that for reasons too lengthy and complicated, seem to elude the 99.999999999% of most sentient persons in hyperspace, or waking mortal tangible an material life. He was not all that good in math, and had many persons in his early days, helping him to actually physically work out into equations, all his ideas about the cosmos. When they seemed to fit together, he had the opposite thing happen to him that happens to me, a total 180 concentrically persisting reality from that of freaking ass mine. All his helpers vanished into obscurity, and he was left as the great publisher and total creator of the ''theory of general and special relativity''. This is the total opposite, and the entire Copyright Office and legal system of the UNITED STATES LIBRARY OF CONGRESS KNOWS THIS PERFECTLY TOTALLY WELL; and that is for just one example, the project called Billy Harner 2000. You can Google up http://www.billyharner.com/ or click on the link here, and see his web-page, but you will see how I totally vanished out of all reality from anything pertaining to STUDIO PARK RECORDS, HIM, or for that matter, the illustrious and wonderful PAUL EVANS PEDERSEN. I have no issue with this anymore folks, and could care less, and you wanna' know why good folks? Because it is just all that much MORE FREAKING EVIDENCE IN MY FAVOR AND ON MY SIDE OF THIS ETERNAL BATTLE AND WAR, proving how someone or something, Captain Shatner and kid, have GONE OUT OF THEIR WAY WORKING TRIPLE SHIFT OVERTIME FOR DECADES NOW, to do all of this to me, in a continual pattern, relentlessly, without so much as a hint of ceasing any time or millennium soon. AHA-AHA-AHA MIKE MCNULTY KIND SIR!!!!!!!!! YOU'LL SEE, but that is not important, Gina!





What is important is that I tell you a quick little squib here, and then I will be gone for a while, but you will understand its power as the days pass by. First off, not that many days back, my mother and the New Jersey branch of the lovely 1970-That-Family, or TAWF-'70, for short; were interacting in another universe in the hyperspace that I have conscious recall to, (I had a powerful and vivid dream) in other words; your words actually, that you insist upon; but what went down in that parallel reality is not germane at this moment in time, Senator Watergate Jacobson, and will be glossed over on this blog for right now. Some of you have forgotten my powerful words of hyperspace bleed-over and the example given on my blogs to any of you out here that may be interested in ultimate powerful truth, as I know Morty Mortino is, as this is now about his tenth strike on me today, on my right side, (the DEATH ANDROID or ANGEL), this time; but any-hoo folks, bleed-over was explained in an example with a lot of dry towels that all surround one soaking sopping wet towel in the middle. This was the best that I could do, but folks, you can manipulate stuff in all five dimensions, but it takes great skill, practice, and of course, something TAWF does not have a lot of for the most part, and that would be patience DMK being one of this fantastic family member with the least of all. Her true middle name was not Marie, it was 'Marightnow'!!!!!!!!!! Time travel is going on all around us, right under our noses, but in ways no mortal as of yet in this year, can even remotely begin to conceive of. It honestly is like the example of trying to explain the ocean to a person from the Colorado Rocky Mountains who never even saw an ocean on television or in a picture, let alone in actual reality. There you would be attempting to make one futile attempt with one example after another, but when the person actually would come to see it some day for real, they would say to themselves, shit man, nobody came close to describing it.





The world has wanted me to vanish away ever since I left high school. The movie done by the MTM Network back around 1996, depicted a small ocean attempt description example, in their great movie staring Mary Tyler Moore, called, “Secrets of the Rose Garden”. This is a MUST-C movie for all Believers of Morianity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Only seeing it, AGAIN, explains just why it is such a MUST-C fucking ass show, I can only proclaim that it is now in words ladies and freaking gentlemen, YO! Now what happened back in fucking school that caused this planet's powerful controllers and owners, to desire this so much? Well, how many out here have read or remembered my older blogs that talk about the GODDESS SARAH JACOBSON, from school, along with Watergate, Steve the Jock, and so much more, huh Molly Ringworm Ringwald????????????????????????? This is just an opener for right now good folks. Well, Molly, you can hate the Microsoft Spell-Checker too, girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







The GREAT SARAH JACOBSON was indeed, another very special girl. Too bad Mister Mackey would not let me run my cassette recorder that day, as a lot more was said in the shadows, than just the great Bob Madison Club of the Teacher's Lounge, and a few who's sleeping around with who stories, that go hand in hand with any and all high schools all over the cunt eating country, and most likely, the civilized world. Still, Mister McDowell, maybe I love my calendar girl and my calendars, and you loved taping as much as I did back then, but the real secrets have not even begun to speak out, right oh lovely Karen Upchuck Carpenter-83?????????????????????????????????





Now moving on with the topic of the great Goddess Sarah Jacobson, good believers and other folks; I told in the first three years of my blogs, a lot about her, as well as some stuff that all happened. Later of course, I began to realize that this awesome two year old from New York, was able to become this 22 year old super girl at my school. I told you how she already knew about the Watergate days, but never clarified back then, just what she knew and when. The day she first discussed it in quick bursts of a few choice words, was back on the newly built bridge in the late springtime in the year of 1972, telling how 40 days from now, on the 17 June day, as it was then early April on an unusually warm early spring afternoon, this would all happen. Once she said this, I suddenly remembered a dream I had of her just that night, where she was telling Steve the Jock, that she does not kiss boys. Fifteen minutes later, this actually went down in what you would call, real life. Talk about needing the services of K-Mart. I know I had some ass wiping to do back at the school. I told how that autumn upon returning to school in late October, I had been beaten up in the same manner as my Cousin Donald had, at a place we need not discuss right now, and instead of the perpetrators being expelled, I was after shit was all blamed on me, and I was then back at special education all over again, upsetting my mother beyond any verbal description. She had been planning this for a while and was hell bent on getting me out of the area, and I think we all know why. It's been told and told and needs no rehash job at this current time. Melanie Safka the folk music diva was just out with her great song at the time, called, “Brand New Key”. Locked up inside all of this, for all Dan Mackey and I ever knew, was this entire mess still ongoing right to this very minute, and so maybe indeed, and as the great MS said all along, maybe then, I too have this mysterious key. Or maybe I did have it and MS was unaware that ISIS had taken this stuff out of my closet in 1969, at the Dellway Arms Apartments, on Oakland Avenue, in Oaklyn, New Jersey, Apartment O-15, as in Gawky Gaukauk and his letter-number order numerology. In any event, this did not all happen random in some meaningless happenstance grouping of silly coincidental things. Anyone foolish enough to believe this and to discredit the MORIANITY truths that really double as the ADULT VERSION and reprinted BOOK OF THE BEACH, burned by Russell Thaxton that night in middle December of 1969 or maybe it was a little later on, as ISIS has fuzzed out my memories now, for all I know it could have happened right around the time that Dorothea Dario threw my bicycle into the Newton Creek, in early January in 1970. In any event, the hypnotic SUNRAM eclipse, was still a short ways off, taking place in March. Bob Madison was all a part of this, as was John Zane, only in ways totally outside any boxes of rationale. As of this point, I still am putting together possible scenarios of how it all fits together, right down to Zane's teacher, Mister Ciprionni Ohm. There is so much more to tell about 1969-1971, and the joke is on ISIS, for telling me to tell the blogs more about this as well as the progressing years after this leading up to the song, 'LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS' and the interaction where she sang this song to me, in early June of 1980, and now is more than 33 years back into time. You can wonder about a million things that all link up to all of this, along with the great original interaction and the giant county wide chemtrail that dispersed and dissipated all over the skies above me, on the following morning on that chilly December day in 1969, just half a year after the almighty Misses Marola made sure that I did that school play, so as to be at a precise place and time, later on that day, down in Atlantic City, New Jersey, to hear the mighty and great Sarah say to folks riding in a car that came bolting down Tennessee Avenue, “Your friends are in the shop”. Just tell me this folks, and I know the internet is gargantuan and appears to include the entire world up there. Is there another Morianity or something even close to it, anywhere up on this great and powerful OZERNET????







DOES THIS DUDE KNOW HIS ONIONS OR NOT GINA????????

Sure he does, lovely one,but he doesn't need to rub him in his god dam eyes, huh late Dave Chaz Roth, YO YO YO?



















///////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ KEYBOARDS FROM PETA-HELL ®





MARK WAYNE MOHR--------1980, ALL BLOGS © 2006-2013

























HELP ME PEE, YOU HAVE BEEN OUT OF HERE SINCE MARCH 29th, and now it is 29 SEPTEMBER.


Atlantic County, New Jersey
Public Safety


HARBORFIELDS DETENTION CENTER, NJ-USA
Search Site:
EGG HARBOR CITY'S SECRET DAWN LAUGHING KING'S MAGIC SCHOOL OF GRINS AND TAUNTS, GOOD OLD HARBORFIELDS DETENTION CENTER, AHA-AHA-AHA, REAL FUNNY. NOW UR IN DREAM-LAND, DMK!!!











If anyone can find me PEE, it is e-bay genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



YOU NEED TO INVENT THE 74-WORLD PENETRATOR DEVICE. TRY AND REMEMBER THIS.

















**W-Map, courtesy of CHANNEL 12 local South Florida TV.**

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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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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????????????????? PLEASE!!!!!!







December 12, 2006


More Crackpots- Meet Mark from NJ (MP3), oh yeah, right!!!!!!!!!!






Mark_from_njAt 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.









**WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**
















































***MORIANITY PART FIVE***













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My blogs:

About me

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Industry
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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
Favorite Movies
Favorite Music
Favorite Books
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.











Enemies, who R they? They are any situation made up of a pure energy that is unidentifiable by mortal man as yet in 2K6. Anything, anyone, any possible situation, causing U or me, more harm than good, more bad and sad than happy, U get the idea, this is ‘the enemy’ and Christians can use one or a group of several names when referring to this enemy, but I say only, ''the ENEMY''. ------------------------------------

















THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.

CHAPTER 00178, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!





















Tom Reale who molested me as a fifteen year old boy, was a lot more than some ordinary child liking sicko perv. The night he thought PEE SENIOR got at me on the following year, by his outlandish wild behavior when I exited that jitney bus that late night on Cornwall Avenue in Ventnor, New Jersey, proves that if nothing else does. First off, there is no record criminally whatsoever of this man, and according to all the television and legal authorities, none of these sicko pervs just pick one person and do this shit to them one time, and they don't have the endless luck of the Irish, and never get caught either, sooner or later, that old wheel spins around and wham, you're fucking toast, you fagot. Only this never ever happened to this sick mother fucker, but IS HE just a sick mother fucker, or was a lot more going on in the scummer time of 1970? Well, did I really just wake up from a strange dream 38 and a quarter years later, and could some super loud whirlybird really just suddenly appear over the house, as if by Harry Houdini Potter Merlin Huntington, at the split second I said through the phone to lightning, that indeed I just popped out of this wild ass interaction? Well, you all know what Yogi Berra and I think!!!!! LIKE W------O------W.









REPRINTED FROM DATE AND TIME SHOWN BELOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



8:38 PM-EDST, 27 AUGUST, 2013, TUESDAY EVENING!!!!!!!

The day before the death hell.



MORIANITY PART VI



CHAPTER XI

















Good evening good people out here, and greetings from the Mountainpen. Wow what a tangled and deceptive web has become weaved, over an almost 59 year life span!!!

Am I the spider however, RD-ELV-84, and did 'Michael' really copy my blog and you, in OHM-9? Who can ever breath-echo really know this, oh great US Copyright Office of Wash-Doc?



























***MORIANITY PART FIVE***













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*******************On Blogger since January 2006
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My blogs:

About me

Gender
Male
Industry
Occupation
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
Favorite Movies
Favorite Music
Favorite Books
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.











Enemies, who R they? They are any situation made up of a pure energy that is unidentifiable by mortal man as yet in 2K6. Anything, anyone, any possible situation, causing U or me, more harm than good, more bad and sad than happy, U get the idea, this is ‘the enemy’ and Christians can use one or a group of several names when referring to this enemy, but I say only, ''the ENEMY''. ------------------------------------

















THIS IS MORIANITY, PART FIVE. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.

CHAPTER 00178, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!





















Tom Reale who molested me as a fifteen year old boy, was a lot more than some ordinary child liking sicko perv. The night he thought PEE SENIOR got at me on the following year, by his outlandish wild behavior when I exited that jitney bus that late night on Cornwall Avenue in Ventnor, New Jersey, proves that if nothing else does. First off, there is no record criminally whatsoever of this man, and according to all the television and legal authorities, none of these sicko pervs just pick one person and do this shit to them one time, and they don't have the endless luck of the Irish, and never get caught either, sooner or later, that old wheel spins around and wham, you're fucking toast, you fagot. Only this never ever happened to this sick mother fucker, but IS HE just a sick mother fucker, or was a lot more going on in the scummer time of 1970? Well, did I really just wake up from a strange dream 38 and a quarter years later, and could some super loud whirlybird really just suddenly appear over the house, as if by Harry Houdini Potter Merlin Huntington, at the split second I said through the phone to lightning, that indeed I just popped out of this wild ass interaction? Well, you all know what Yogi Berra and I think!!!!! LIKE W------O------W.













8:38 PM-EDST, 27 AUGUST, 2013, TUESDAY EVENING!!!!!!!





MORIANITY PART V



CHAPTER CLXXVIII

















Good evening good people out here, and greetings from the Mountainpen. Wow what a tangled and deceptive web has become weaved, over an almost 59 year life span!!!

Am I the spider however, RD-ELV-84, and did 'Michael' really copy my blog and you, in OHM-9? Who can ever breath-echo really know this, oh great US Copyright Office of Wash-Doc?

























***MORIANITY PART FIVE***













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**************** My Photo




*******************On Blogger since January 2006
*****************************Profile views – 2840


My blogs:

About me

Gender
Male
Industry
Occupation
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
Favorite Movies
Favorite Music
Favorite Books
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.











Enemies, who R they? They are any situation made up of a pure energy that is unidentifiable by mortal man as yet in 2K6. Anything, anyone, any possible situation, causing U or me, more harm than good, more bad and sad than happy, U get the idea, this is ‘the enemy’ and Christians can use one or a group of several names when referring to this enemy, but I say only, ''the ENEMY''. ------------------------------------

















THIS IS MORIANITY, PART SIX, PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY.

CHAPTER ELEVEN, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!





















Tom Reale who molested me as a fifteen year old boy, was a lot more than some ordinary child liking sicko perv. The night he thought PEE SENIOR got at me on the following year, by his outlandish wild behavior when I exited that jitney bus that late night on Cornwall Avenue in Ventnor, New Jersey, proves that if nothing else does. First off, there is no record criminally whatsoever of this man, and according to all the television and legal authorities, none of these sicko pervs just pick one person and do this shit to them one time, and they don't have the endless luck of the Irish, and never get caught either, sooner or later, that old wheel spins around and wham, you're fucking toast, you fagot. Only this never ever happened to this sick mother fucker, but IS HE just a sick mother fucker, or was a lot more going on in the scummer time of 1970? Well, did I really just wake up from a strange dream 38 and a quarter years later, and could some super loud whirlybird really just suddenly appear over the house, as if by Harry Houdini Potter Merlin Huntington, at the split second I said through the phone to lightning, that indeed I just popped out of this wild ass interaction? Well, you all know what Yogi Berra and I think!!!!! LIKE W------O------W.













8:38 PM-EDST, 27 AUGUST, 2013, TUESDAY EVENING!!!!!!!





MORIANITY PART VI



CHAPTER XI

















Good evening good people out here, and greetings from the Mountainpen. Wow what a tangled and deceptive web has become weaved, over an almost 59 year life span!!!

Am I the spider however, RD-ELV-84, and did 'Michael' really copy my blog and you, in OHM-9? Who can ever breath-echo really know this, oh great US Copyright Office of Wash-Doc?



really know this, oh great US Copyright Office of Wash-Doc?





THE WEATHER BUG CITY CAMERA AT THE AIRPORT, IS SHOWN COURTESY OF CHANNEL 12 TELEVISION, IN SOUTH FLORIDA. If not at the airport, the shipyards, or ''wherever'' Bob!!!!!!!











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I have accumulated lots of new shit that none of you have even conceived of seeing yet, should in fact I decide to paste it all up in time.




just watch the photograph on my blog, as it changes with all of the techrachaunical magic of all of Ireland and all of Steve Jobs and Bill Gates all combined and commingled together.




I have suffered through this mother fucking cat shit now since 1986, so don't even think about trying to tell me it is not really happening. My believers, I love you. The rest, hay, read, enjoy, scoff, doubt, or Andrews Whatever, as I said; I know what I know. Screw anything else at the speed of fucking light squared! I did not bother asking my doctor for a note so I can move to the other building, they would just find a way eventually to get at me there, and all the work would be for nothing, and expense as well. I won't be falling into that trap, but there is another way to skin the cat, and that is to follow the advice of a long dead neighbor and electrician from Westmont, New Jersey. Copying Nurse McDowell's 1963 advice first and not waiting to fail at getting any second chances, I will strike but once. Possibly my Resident Manager did this thing that I will not let anyone know about by printing it and handing amo to this vicious enemy; but whether she did or did not do a certain thing, there is someone who I intend to bring into my fold, remembering the great Charles Ponti, the great Mullica Township TV Blaster-Boob, and of course, John McDowell. Hay, at least I'll be able to say at the end of the day, or month, that I tried something. No one needs to know as if I tell it, I'd be fucking cunt lapping screwing myself, and that should be obvious to a fucking ass retard, but if not; I know that the military forces of the world understand my strategy and battle tactics 100 fucking percent YO!!!!!












Dow Jones Industrial Average (^DJI)



Now remember, this chart will move during the hours of 9:30 AM and 4:00 PM, not in live action, but you can snap off and back onto the blog, and every few minutes, the chart will update, ahhh these leevely ol leprechauns, maitees. Technology can be wonderful me frensl, speeeshally ween its on your side of the fight, laddies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAAA Auntie Alice Gallagher, YO!!!!!!!!!!!



But where are you when I god dam need you, lovely baby-blond? Oh yeah, that's right, she is at the waterfalls with me, her RICKY, WOW!!!











This blog is just to get the smallest bit into opening what the why's of my being the seeming center of everything, when I am just a total nobody, and am not disputing this for a single second. I don't have the answers for all of the dead guru's of the Himalayan Mountain Chain, but I'll do my best, based on a few decades of my own personal outlandish experiences in this present ME-LIFE, as MARK WAYNE MOHR. First, I fucked up and wrote PM instead of AM, as most of you know, on the previous blog, Chapter #00177, and it was right at the time I left for BonJovi Entertainment in Port Saint Lucie, Florida back on Monday mid-afternoon, that the DJIA chart took a straight line dive without looking back up. If one of you geniuses out here could tell ME, just why I am the center of this universe, without merely echoing the same old lame lines of, well, as you said, Mountainpen, you're SSJKK's ''THAT-BOY'', whether she is consciously aware of this or not. There still must be a lot more to all of this shit, Doctor Disney Cruising Doogie Howser. Just do me the one little favor no matter what, and don't tell me I've not made a believer out of you out here, still with me, and reading me; not after all that YOU NOW have begun to see, and witness; at least second hand; via reading the BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN. My scum bag nabes are screaming out in the hall at 9:13 Post Meridian. I guess these words have struck the 'phony-funny bone' of some part of the great and covert black ops WOMO-MILITUFORCE Lambrigg Astral Cult, in their human waking world form, as individual parts of this system; through none other than the total ''PAWM''-PIE-ETTOS controlled system. You all should remember; People, Animals, Weather, & Machines, like DUH!










NOW WE ARE BACK AROUND THE TIMES OF?

12:20 AM-EDST, 28 AUGUST, 2013



Despite the majority of viewers not seeing the truth about my posts, in so far as a method to my madness and things repeating as well as almost repeating with various changes made, I'm trying to get you thinking just a little tiny bit more than three dimensionally, I'm not expecting any of you to go the full five with me, but I do know what I am doing, so I hope you do not skip when you think I am just repeating, as normally, there are small changes made, and it is important for you to make sense out of a lot of upcoming blogs, that you don't peter out on me and skip all the important stuff I'm trying to accomplish with you, as readers. Also, if I randomly paste in something from one week or three years ago, remember, there is no random, this will indeed be proven mathematically, within the lifetimes of most of our grand children. For now, about a little mustard seed amount of trust and faith. If I really honestly was a mad man and did not know squat from shoe polish, explain away about at least 100 things that I know, that you know; WHAT IS GETTING FRIKKIN' SAID!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is no bullshit to this, I only wish that there was, but the trouble is that you don't have to trust me, and if I right now say let us pick and choose this or that, and I go and paste it in, you would only get the full Count Marcucci 1969 mind blow, IF you implicitly trusted in my integrity. I know that I have no reason to cheat, but you don't, and I fully accept that. But this is not some random pick, as you have heard me discuss the airship that was in some kind of contact with both my DREAMING mind as well as my WAKING mind, BACK ON OCTOBER THE FIFTH, IN 'TWENTY-OH-EIGHT', MISSES M-PLAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If Yogi or Doogie were there, would they have a wild roller coaster ride at Dorney Park, with or without repeated catchy tunes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So without further horse stinks, let me paste in that blog. Who would win the stare down, Russell; Marcucci or my kid???????????? Well, speaking of, here is that old blog from October of 2008, so you don't have to go scanning and archiving all over the place to find it, good people, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA






Sunday, October 5, 2008


HOW MANY TIMES MY FRIEND?


HOW MANY TIMES, MY FRIEND?”
The Epitome of Harassment, Internet Version,
ALL OTHER SUBTITLES APPLY
DATFILE: 100508.616.55 ----- START: --------------- ( October 5, 2008)

I am under a MAJOR FUCKLING DSEATH SIEGE, and the second that I came out of a major interaction with Mariah, boom, one second after being back awake here in this Marhouse, a super chopper attack enjoyed right over the place in total violation of my civil and constitutional rights 2 pursue happiness and peace. Then 10 seconds after the chopper MILITYUFORCE scum slime were gone, I started 2 tell Diana about hearing a song that was playing, Called “HOW MANY TIMES”, and instantly again, a super loud Harley blotorfucking sickiecycle got me at maximum sound right out my bedroom window again in violation of my civil and constitutional fucking rights, AMERICAN CIVIL LIBERTIES FUCKING UNION that doesn’t give a fucking rats ass ship about how I’m being violated!!!!
I A M U N D E R A F U C K I N G S I E G E!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

U want war, U got it FUCKING PAUL STODDARD BRIGGBASE CULTSCUM!!!! Hear is first what happened, and then I will tell what Mr. Carey told me never 2 tell. It was 1975 and my mom was in Babylon., Long Island, and this was in the waking world, she really was visiting Uncle Heinz and Aunt Ruth, Gottwald, the honcho banker and yachtsman of the Sound. I told U all on a prior blog that 3 years B4 this was my last visit up there 2C those fucking miserable snotty shits. But in this interaction, I had been beaten up on the Atlantic City beach as I was in the waking world, and had my own sea plane and took it and landed it in the interaction right at the boat club across from where my snoot-unk resided at the time at 175 Peninsula Drive, down the way from Captain Kangaroo. A dirt ball friend of the 2 beach patrol mascots that had fun roughing me up back in shitville, New Jersey, was my pilot and thought this was funny, knowing fully well that my uncle would have a cow and an aneurism at the same time, and he did sure enough and was over across the bay hollering at the both of us and saying 2 get that piece of junk out of his yacht club or he would have me locked up. Then the next thing I knew I dreamshifted miles over 2 the Carey block. I was having a great time talking to everyone and they all seemed 2 know me as though they had always known me. I just went along with it wondering where I was and how I had gotten into this one and even thinking of the Stanley/Oliver show of times B4 this even, where he was always saying, ”Now you’ve really gotten us into a mess this time Stanley”, and kept thinking of that as well as knowing that I was just with Diana making passionate love 2 her at some astral waterfall and lovely exquisite park, and instantly afterwards just found myself in time and space again, only in this here and this now. Mariah wanted 2 do something extremely important 2 her and her dad got angry and did what cannot B done in today’s world and I remember thinking how brave she was 4 not crying. She came over and whispered 2 me that she was going 2 do this thing whether daddy liked it or not, and I sort of chuckled nervously hoping she wasn’t going 2 receive another spanking. We were in a hallway that was lit up brightly in the house, and in the middle of it on one end was a wide entrance into the living room. Make all the fucking sounds and persecute me all U want cock suckers, when this fucking blog posts up, YOU’LL B VERY FUCKING SORRY ASS HOLES. They know every stroke I do on this keypad, just watch Law and Order, and the episode where the patient was betrayed by his psychiatrist, it was a sex offense case, I make nothing up, this EVIL EMPIRE is watching every strike I do on this fucking machine, violating my RIGHTS UNDER THE UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION!!!!!!! Anyway she was able 2 eventually do this thing that was so important 2 her and I was very happy 4 her. Some relative was over at the place with either a guitar or some kind of music making thing, and was strumming and singing the famous song from a few years past, that kept going, THE ANSWER MY FRIEND IS BLOWING IN THE WIND, THE ANSWER IS BLOWING IN THER WIND. She, MC was oblivious 2 this and more interested in making sure her dad had his back turned so he would not C what she was doing, it was the cutest thing that I ever witnessed, yet simultaneously was totally breaking my heart. Lots of anger was everywhere, and he mentioned the stairs and the fights over the horrible neighborhood and bad neighbors that had done them wrong, and more along these lines, and it was terrible. I detest having 2C my lovely queen as well as her family, go through any unhappiness, and after finding out that family of mine and friends and neighbors of them were behind the Carey’s miseries, and U all remember how I wanted that weekend 2 go up 2 Long Island with a huge turkey knife under a sweater, and not 2 offer a free dinner 2 wicked cousins and do the carving, but rather 2 just do some carving and not make any offers about it. Anyone ever hurts my queen in any way, and I cannot end this sentence legally on this blog, yet it still is getting said, family or no family, I do not care if UR the governor!!!!!!!! Then her dad yelled over after leaving the hall and standing at the foot of the stairs something about making this his last visit and did not need all the hassle of things, and then went on about the cat, and when I saw the cat, in this wild interaction, it turned jet black with the same tiny white paws that Gawky Gaukauk has, and then grew and expanded 2 the size of a real live panther as though it was a balloon cat getting filled with pneumatic pressure, like an air pump. Then he pointed at her while she was dancing and laughing and watching this happen, and said and I quote, “Gawky, U get the hell out of my house, trouble-maker”. Then Gawky who refused 2 budged growled and finally spoke and said 495 over and over again. Then after he walked angrily over 2 him and started trying 2 wrestle with Gawky, he was thrown onto the floor and Gawky said, now Mark will C all this hot shot engineer. U never wanted him 2 know about any of it and now I will show the poor bastard, he said this word 4 word 2 Mr. Carey, and I will remember the total absolute vividness of this 3 the rest of my Mountainpen diseased twisted pathetic life. Then the mus8ic came from nowhere only louder, how many times this and how many times that and all about the answer blowing in the wind, and then wind indeed blew up and things were getting knocked all around while Gawky laughed and Mr. Carey walked out shouting and slammed the front door 2 their home about as hard and loudly as I ever remember a door being slammed in my current astral-dream-down, (ADD). When I came out of this, 3 seconds later I said 2 Diana over the telephone that I just popped out of a wild interaction, and INSYANTLY, the BRIGGBASE WOMO MILITUORCE sent over a loud house shaking fucking chopper. Then as said, motorcycle attacks, which still R currently ongoing, I am under a fucking total death siege, as I am normally directly following major astral world REMEMBERING EXPERIENCES, “dreaming” by all of your definitions. Miss shitplants Jane Fonda Whore just bit my fucking ass, what else could possibly go wrong, no don’t fucking answer that as Elizabeth Montgomery said something 2 her hubby Darren Stevens that applies so very well 2 me, “THE POSSIBILITIES R ENDLESS” Aniwho, MCMCAAONMC, yes it is indeed one eleven in the mother fucking afternoon and that stinking cunt lapping clock got me again, I am on a major fucking death roll. IF ANYTHING HAPPENS 2 ME AND I DO NOT MAKE IT HOME AGAIN WHGEN IO GO OUT 2 WORK SOON, I WAS MURDERED BY THE UNITED STATES EVUIL EMPIRE GOVERNMENT AND THEIUR WICKED SCUMY MILITARY SYSTEM. This is a dying man’s utterance and official and legal declaration, doubling as my blog 4 this day. Let me attempt 2 cunt-pen-rape (COMPENSATE) just a wee whittle bitchin’ bit rapies and germiblows!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555, and yes five and five and five. U want war games with me truckers, I will give them 2U, ya stinking rotten, BASTARD SLIMY SLEAZY FILTHY PUNK-BAGS AT LIGHT SPEED CUBED!!!!!!! Gawky was making Mr. Carey very agitated, after he all ready was up set with his child 4 something she was insisting on doing and he did not want her 2 do it. Well, MY PHILLIES R FUCKED AGAIN, THANKS 2 ALL OF THIS FUCKING BULL SHIT, JUST MARK MY FUCKING WORDS, GIVING UP A 2 AND OH 4 A ROTTEN 2 AND ALL NOW, JUST U FUCKING WATCH AND MARK MY TURDS AND MY PREPRICTIONS. I could tell U what MC was doing but it would not B fair. Here I am an astral traveler, invading the privacy of people’s pasts, I must draw the line on what I tell that IC and witness somewhere. If it was just not so real, so vivid and in living Technicolor with panoramic view and quadraphonic enhanced super high fidelity surround sound, and so bigger than life, I might even dismiss these things, but brother Detective Green, I just cannot dismiss this one nor the immediate RONALD REAGAN COUNTERATTACK THAT WOMO LAYNCHED directly after they followed my kerlian energy back there 2 the Marhouse and I woke up physically. A Mentally Challenged dope addict can CY that particular song was part of this I sure hope, Jeese-Louise Fonty surfer dude! I told Y’all what muscles Ed said at work at the garage 2 me not long ago when we discussed Mercenary Employment. Oh well, at least we were not discussing Multiverse-Existors, still ME’s either way. That ME on the roof of 506 Robin Hill was sure a mistake, if only Ida opened my door instead of being King Wussbag the FIRST AND ONLY!!!!!! If this does not break off and my Phillies keep getting damaged, major shit will happen, as I all ready know atomically what is destined on this signature frequency of atomic hyperspace, as I saw it and if they CHANGE IT, it will cause severe weather patterns 2 occur like nothing this part of the hemisphere in the United States has seen 4 hundreds of mother fucking queers. The answer is not blowing in the wind my friend, it is simpler than any ninth dimensional source force could ever B. Fuck with established hyperspace patterns, and quantum foam heats up in tiny areas burning out of existence total pieces of reality, leaving vacuums and portals, STARGATES, small, but big enough 4 example 2 bring in the GIFLIES of Haddonwood. Huge insects that do not come from HERE that have been literally FIXED 2 wipe out humanity, keep fucking with me, I can prove all that I day, and this shit is top4 secret at black ops agency level. Keep fucking the hell with me and I will let out how hurting me is hurting all of the citizenry, and I have proof of Haddonwood and the giflies, or GIANT-FLIES. Gawky said to Mr. Carey that Mark must tell the world about sentence abbrevs in the Gawnum or the secret of the GAS, gee, is Steven King visiting the Marhouse today here in Cannotmakeupmymindinheightville??????? Aniwho, he says that a powerful second level tool in the Gawnum is taking sentences and phrases 2B matched up or compared 4 compatibility, such as “go screw yourself mister New York mail man”. The letters R the first of each word, and in this example thus would B, (G-S-Y-M-N-Y-M-M), since I am ragging on the Milituforce, Mister Jack McCoy, and the evil BRIGGBASE right now as they R persecuting an innocent citizen straight 2 his grave and have been 4 nearly 23 fucking years. Aniwho MCMCAAONMC, then U get the PCN or (Private Cosmicallycoded Number) of these letters, only after getting the first 2 digits, the third digit is not the higher digit minus the lower digit. Instead, with this, it is the sum total of the 2 digits, hence if a PCN starts with 47, the 4 and 7 R then added 2 make digit number 3, or PCN-4711. Now if the first 2 digits add up 2 less than ten, use a 0 for the third digit, as all PCN’s on this system need 2B4 digits in length. Hence if the numbers come 53, the PCN using this system becomes 5308, as 5+3 is 8 and this is less than 10 and needs a zero in the third digit slot 2 keep all of these PCN’s as 4-digit numbers. The smallest is 1102, and the largest is 9918. The basic base 9 going from 11-99 is still functioning here. U will C amazing shit Gawky says when U compare phrases and long sentences of query. I know that all grown up, MC has told me not 2 play with this and 2 stop blogging this, but I did not ask 4 this persecution, I am only in survival mode here, and doing what I must 2B a song stealing BEEGEE, and STAYIN’ ALIVE as best as I can through all of this monstrous and horrendous fucking endless bull shit that I’m forced 2 endure!!!!!! Funny how 1102 as in my 3rd and final tenure at the great ROBIN-HILL (farm outside of HADDONFIELD) where TAWF from 1970 was starting its mission of MARK MOHR DESTRUCT, PROJECT “MARTINOCALLIO99999”, and all from a silly stupid Jimmie horrible life Stuart missing $8,000.00 video arcade in such a fantastically far away locale. No, one day the bail out bastards say no, and then boom, reality shifts and changes. It always either goes their evil wealthy manipulated/controlled way 2 begin with, or they do a Lattisaw and just turn some tapes and move some makes until out from Copperfield’s hat jumps the magic bunny rabbit with a sign pointing at them and reading, “FRANKIE SAYS THEY’LL DO IT THEIR WAY”. Yeah but let me piss on the table, and the prosecutor Wirtz said 2 me and I’ll quote the dude, “I’m glad U didn’t do that, U never would have gotten out of the Atlantic City jail” Yeah I do not know about everything, and big-business is definitely not my thing BRO, but I will say this, and U can eat it 4 damn dinner: Jack McCoy on the great television show “LAW and ORDER” says it perfectly, and I’ll quote him from a Mercedes all the way 2 a raised-right black boy, “There R rules for the wealthy and then there R the rules 4 all the rest of us”, or was it Senator Hopeful from Tennessee who said it? Well it wasn’t said from Tennessee Avenue aniwho, and that’s some plus out of the day. The fucking gods help me, dream on Mountainpen, LITERALLY, while laughing Donna retraces your ass from here 2 eternity. Mighty Earthquakes and wicked volcanoes R right around the trucking corner, watch your back OTAMM SCUM!!!!!!!!! Watch your rotten stinking ugly back!!!!!!!!!! BYE-BYE!!!!!!

MAGNESONIC, all GO and SO, both ZD and AD TECs. All enemies scanned and crushed. G-13, G-14, open command G-189, under CGR-2, and STOP.

END OF THIS TRANSMISSION.



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Welcome


Atlantic County is unique in New Jersey, in that it is home to Atlantic City, the only municipality in the state where casino gaming is permitted.   Thirteen casino/hotels, which attract more than 34 million visitors each year, currently operate in Atlantic City.   Those numbers are in addition to the many seasonal tourists who visit Atlantic County each summer.   Their numbers dwarf the figure of 271,015 permanent residents of our county and contribute significantly to the need for prosecutorial and related criminal justice services provided by this office.

frontThe New Jersey Constitution provides that each county shall have a County Prosecutor.   This constitutional provision is implemented by a statute creating the Office of the County Prosecutor which mandates that the criminal business of the state be prosecuted exclusively by the County Prosecutor except in those cases where the Attorney General may choose to supersede.   The statute charges the County Prosecutor with the duty of using all reasonable and lawful diligence for the detection, arrest, indictment and conviction of offenders against the law.

The Office of the Prosecutor in Atlantic County is located in Mays Landing, New Jersey, with a satellite office maintained in Atlantic City.

The office has a staff of a 182, which includes the Prosecutor, First Assistant Prosecutor, Chief of County Detectives, 7 Chief Assistant Prosecutors, 33 Assistant Prosecutors, 5 captains, 8 lieutenants, 19 sergeants, 45 detectives and 15 agents.   The balance of the staff consists of clerical and support personnel.

Atlantic County is comprised of 23 municipalities with 18 separate municipal police departments which fall under the jurisdiction of the Atlantic County Prosecutor.

Atlantic County is located in the southeastern portion of New Jersey, with the Atlantic Ocean at its shores.   To the south of Atlantic County, beyond the Tuckahoe River is Cape May County.   To the southwest is Cumberland County.   Lying west of the only straight line border are Gloucester and Camden Counties.   To the north across the Mullica River and Greate Bay is found Burlington and Ocean Counties.   Atlantic County covers a total area of 566 square miles.

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Update 1/10/2013
















JOHN J CROWLEY


TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK, WOW DOES TIME KEEP MOVING RIGHT ALONG, WEEE-NA!

THE MAN WHO STOLE MY TOW TRUCK BACK IN 1979.




WELCOME BACK, JOHN CROWLEY. In a pigs dream!!!

Nearby Offender: Thomas Giordano »







expand





John J Crowley's entire criminal record


The man who ripped me off in 1979 with the tow truck deal:

Last Known Address: 1201 ROBERTS WAY, VOORHEES, NJ, 08043
 
Race:
White


 
 
Sex:
Male


Eyes:
Blue
Height:
6'0


Hair:
Brown
Weight
205 lbs.


Age/DOB:
4/12/1947

Offense or Statute

Offense/Statute: ENDANGERING THE WELFARE OF A CHILD Disposition Date: 29 March 1996

Alias(es)

JOHN CROWLEY:JOHN H SPROWL

Collected from this official state registry website or page:


https://www16.state.nj.us/LPS_spoff/individualResults.jsp Report An Error »

*No representation is made that the person listed here is currently on the state's offenders registry. All names presented here were gathered at a past date. Some persons listed might no longer be registered offenders and others might have been added. Some addresses or other data might no longer be current. Owners of Homefacts.com assume no responsibility (and expressly disclaim responsibility) for updating this site to keep information current or to ensure the accuracy or completeness of any posted information. Accordingly, you should confirm the accuracy and completeness of all posted information before making any decision related to any data presented on this site. The information on this web site is made available solely to protect the public. Anyone who uses this information to commit a crime or to harass an offender or his or her family is subject to criminal prosecution and civil liability.

More Nearby Offenders


STEPHEN LOATMAN


THOMAS GIORDANO


Nearby Schools





0.78 Miles Away


0.95 Miles Away


1.00 Miles Away


1.00 Miles Away


1.35 Miles Away







HAS MISTER CROWLEY BEEN ANYWHERE NEAR THE HAMMONTON PASSPORT POST OFFICE AROUND 2007 ANN KING????????????



















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MORIANITY PART 6, CHAPTER 11, reprinted from the date of:

5:55 POST MERIDIAN-EDST, 28 AUGUST, 2013, WEDNESDAY

WHEN ALL HELL BROKE FREAKING LOOSE FOR ME, AGAIN!



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I WILL GIVE IT 2U SHORT AND SUPER SWEET, GOOD FOLKS. Things I posted up caused me a month of DOUBLE THE NORMAL BOTBARS FOR LITTLE OLD ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW.







OK, here is what the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE IS DOING TO ME, GOOD FOLKS, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The computer clock was set back an hour, Mister McDowell, SIR, FCC, and old school chum of the 'Johnny faster jokes', and thus, I reset it, once I started this blog, and saw that it had been screwed with, A---G---A---I---N! OK, the day started out very very very INGRID-84-WEIRD, YO!!!!





I was not quite 'AWAKE YET' to use normal human concepts of things, and was interacting with two large cockroaches, doing stuff I did quite often as a boy, and Abby Carmichael can go eat me out, as I did not turn out so bad, SWEETIE, not next to most of you in the fucking Entertainment Bathtub Destruct World, aniwho!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So here I am holding onto two large cockroaches, placing them face to face in front of me, trying to get them to fight each other. Suddenly they began to speak to me, saying, '' Remember when you were at that security guard job out in Pennsylvania, working for Assets Protection; and you took your matchbook out of your pocket, and began lighting up caterpillars; watching them squirm in agony, and then you fell asleep for a while; and they came to you in your sleep asking you why you had tortured them, when they had done nothing to you to deserve such cruelty''? I said that I remembered it very well, and asked how this can be happening, since I am not asleep dreaming now; of course I was; but did not know it. Remember; this is still using all of your word choices, to describe this hyperspace activity and interaction. Just at that exact moment, LFLD, sociopath little me; began hearing them continue speaking to me but their sound became muffled, and I was wondering why I could not hear them speak plain and clearly any longer. With that, I suddenly 'woke up' to my fucking asshole nabes out in the hall, what else is new, and this is what this sound was here in this part of hyperspace. Over where I was, it was different, and very distantly located from this universe, where I am not in direct contact with cockroaches, or caterpillars. After they finally shut up, as this went on maybe five or ten minutes from about ten of the clock, on a while; I got up to get a drink, and take a dam piss; and laid back down; and then suddenly remembered what happened in that interaction, before the part where I had these two cockroaches in my hands, and in front of me in a pugilistic position, making them box so to speak. I was up at the Harvest on 25th Street and Orange Avenue. 25th Street when it runs through this area here in Fort Pierce, Florida; is also called, Doctor Martin Luther King Boulevard. This as most of you know was a 50th anniversary day, and a get together was held right around the time of this 'dreaming', up in Washington, DC, AKA 'WASH-DOC-13-600', for reasons that will remain between me and my old buddy, Roy Carl Weiler Senior, at least for the time being. Lots of doubting psychiatrists are thinking old Mountainpen is a nut case, and his 'dream' was representative of Doc King and the two bugs represent white and black, and the fighting speaks for itself, and nothing could be further from the truth in a billion mother fucking years, but for now, that needs not be addressed, as there is too much more I need to report, and how it all fits in, and I have not yet had my dinner, and I plan to eat and relax with a little fucking TV soon; so I am not gonna' be blogging twelve trillion freaking words on Chapter Number 00180. As I speak, the sun is getting low in the western skies to the left of my work station window here on my sixth floor residence apartment, in the 601 Avenue B, Public Housing Authority building, here in unit number 607. It's a pretty sky and quite a sight to see, but as the late Donna Gaines Summer would say this perhaps, if alive still; ''That's neither hair nor there''!!!!!!!!!! The day began with the nabes waking me and we will go on, but let me finish telling how I had laid back down and suddenly began to remember being at the Harvest place before the incident with the fighting roaches, if you insist on seeing parallels of psychiatric stimulus, these hollering assholes, are indeed many times, thought of by me, as indeed, ''FIGHTING ROACHES'', after-all, they brought me these dam bugs. Before they moved fucking in here, YO, I did not have one bug in this fucking apartment for months, then BOOM. In they came, and in came other pests. But in this dreaming interaction, I was in the Harvest, my old job, their web address is http:www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ and I was carrying a whole lot of heavy bricks all over the place, building walls, where the aisles now stand. Make sike sense out of that one, all you dam ass head shrinkers out here. Over in this other distantly located universe in the vastness of unfathomable hyperspace, we were turning this place into many rectangular areas, and no cement was used, merely the bricks assembled on top of each other, quite hazardous, but that is what we were doing, myself, and some other hyperspace entities. I loved the way a phase four being put it on television once, a Miss Carolyn Stoddard from the hit soap show of the sixties ending early April in 1971, ''Dark Shadows''. I think she was talking to the Frankenstein ''ADAM'' that was built on the show, and had said to him regarding the subject of 'dreaming', in dreams we meet both people we know as well as people we don't know''. How is this so-called real life one bit different? We go outside, whether we reside in the Big Apple, or a local rural area; we still meet both people we do and do not know, in this dream as well, right? You know what is wrong with this multiverse, folks? Peeps just don't seem to enjoy ever sitting around doing any serious cogitation, ''THINKING''!!!!





To complete the dream, good folks, I suddenly found myself on a short work-break, and alone just sitting and staring at one of the large walls that I had helped to build on this particular morning up at the hyperspace-Harvest place, and suddenly, a part of the wall formed a human shape; that of a woman; and in no time at all, broke away from the wall, and had flesh, and was alive, and she was a giant; about seven feet tall or maybe even more. She was so fucking beautiful it was disgusting, or maybe in honesty, I should just admit that what was running through my mind was beyond disgusting. All men of course, mentally unclothe most of the gorgeous women we meet and see, so let's not pretend, and get all fucking self righteous here; Abbey-C!!!!!!!!!! I'll tell Diana on you, and she knows all of the other 'YOU'S'; as you seem to know quite well, or your TV character on R&I does, aniwho!

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABIT!!

SUP-DOCK???????



I said lots of shit that peeps did not appreciate or like, and BOOM-BOOM-BOOM, did I pay a Radio Shack McNulty Laughing Football Price, or a (LFP) for future quick blog reference to this, should I wish to use it again, YO. Oh Mister freaking Dewitt, Sir, Jesus Almighty Freaking Goddess in Sahasra Dal Kanwal, cut me a dam ass break there oh powerful non-oz-girl MARGIE LEO from 1985!!!!!!!!!!









So this giant girl comes right over to me and asks me my name, and before I even knew what I was saying, I found myself saying to her, and I'll quote myself, ''do you know you just came out of that wall over there''? She smiled and sat down at a chair opposite the chair I was sitting in, at an average sized break-room table we all have seen at various places of employment. She told me that I am the one who goes around saying all the time, ''NOTHING is what IS REAL, so why am I all shocked at anything I see that may be trying to trick my eyes, in the parlor''? I then told her that she is totally right, and apologized for my quite apparent shocked demeanor. She laughed, and gave me a small pop in the right arm, and said to me, ''don't let your arm fall off''. Instantly, my arm, hurt from the huge rocking punch, did just that, it cracked with a horrible sound, and then fell off, and I was in a tea-shirt only, and saw the horrible place where she had broken it in one incredible powerful punch. Again she asked me my name. Blood was pouring out all over the floor and onto the table, and I remember saying, ''What, are you kidding, you're asking me my name while I'm sitting here freaking bleeding to death''? She laughed and laughed, and told me I could bleed forever, and nothing would happen. We sat there staring at each other, and sure enough, after what seemed like a river of blood all poured out of my broken shoulder, I did not feel faint or pass out or anything. She then went over and grabbed my arm that was laying on the floor and placed it back onto my shoulder as if she was snapping a button on a blouse, and boom, like nothing had ever happened; my arm was fine, and I was fine. Then she laughed and told me to walk out the back door of the break-room, and I did, and it led straight to my apartment bathroom, coming from my neighbor Stanley's apartment bathroom. She too had followed me back here, and when I looked back, the doorway to the other bathroom and other apartment was just totally gone, as though never there at all. She then asked me again, what is my name, and I told her it is Mark. She called me a liar and insisted my name was Ben. After a few more back and forth's were exchanged, and to make a long story much shorter; I was somehow Benjamin Franklin and living in the 21st century, in that part of the hyperspace, in a very weird distant part too, if I may be 'Gozzwald-permitted' to add in here, folks? She told me that I was, ''quite well known for discovering the subterranean beings of the world''. My blogs do discuss this quite often, back in time, as many might be aware of this. We had walked over to where my bed is in this apartment, and she pushed me hard onto my bed, making me bounce incredibly. Then she jumped on me and fucked my brains out after tearing off my clothes with ease, and disrobing herself. When she and I had made passionate love for what seemed like half a god dam day, she told me I never asked her what her name is. I had not, she was totally correct. I am piss poor with names, in all dimensions, and cannot remember them very well, and rarely ask a name of anyone, but just let them offer it. She then said, and I quote, ''My name is 'Wallgirl the Tallgirl', get it''? I then said back to her, ''Do you mean to tell me that you are my wall that I just built earlier up at 25th and Orange?'' She laughed for a few seconds, and then said in a calm voice with a totally straight face, and a cute smile, ''You bet I am''. Then she told me to open my hands and she would give me something if I close my eyes, so I did. I felt something really nasty and shitty instantly, and opened my eyes to find her completely gone, and me with two huge roaches in my freaking hands. The rest was told from here. Within a couple hours of this experience and waking up to the loud nabes, I had cleaned up in the bathroom and was dressed, out the door, and on my way to buy a few items that were on sale at my very favorite grocery store here in town, the PUBLIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But I stopped first at my branch of the Walgreen Pharmacy, to see Mikey who now works in there. From the second I got there until I got back home after going to Publix and Dollar Deals to get a few bucks of needed items; THE ENTIRE SURROUNDINGS WERE NOTHING BUT HUGE GIANT GIRLS. They were literally all over everywhere. This is called, HYPERSPACE-BLEEDOVER or for old timers who knew their way around the world of sound recording in analogue days, we could legitimately label this as HYPERSPACE PRINT THROUGH!!!!!!!! How I 'love' the fucking WORD PROGRAM HACKERS. This is a bunch of mother fucking extremely sick diseased slimy maggot bags on shit steroids.

So far today, the nabes, the clock hack, other hacks, giant pussygram outside, lots of Morty Mortino attacks on both left and right sides, but that is a major par for the course on just about every cunt lapping day, good folks, and then you have the inconsiderate raised-rotten adults in all walks of life, and in all colors, and all other things. Here I am with my cart at my building, trying to walk towards the doors, and she is standing in my way talking, and sees me plain as day, and won't budge an inch if it meant the Savior Jesus would come down off the cross, to hand her sorry fucking ass a winning powerball lottery ticket and a magic wand to knock about 200 pounds of fat and flab from her ugly stupid body. Now this was a white woman, so don't even go anywhere with me. Peeps today are just raised wrong. Once upon a time, basic courtesy was considered LAW even by ex-cons, for the most part. Now, these fucking jerk off peeps that care only for themselves, and all else be mother fucking totally damned to Marion Wayne Hell, WOW; I'd be happy to ship them all off to Hitler's ovens, TONIGHT, YO YO YO YO!!!!

Let me now cunt phlegm rape (COMPENSATE) FOR THIS DICK CHEWING CLOCK ATTACK WITH PAGE FUCKING ELEVEN OF ELEVEN, ON THIS GOD DAM ASS WORD DOCUMENT SYSTEM!!!!!!!!! This has been a very fucking hot, humid, nastyass, totally rotten day, that is just about to fucking go SUPER ASS BOTBAR, YO YO YO YO YO FOLKS!!!!!!

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NO, NOT YOU MARGIE, THE OTHER WALL GIANT, LIKE WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!














Ladies and gentlemen, life is not always the way that the great Mister Smolsky said it was back in 1967, and wrote this into my Haddon Township High School Yearbook. It often is, but exceptions to the rules, make the rules just what indeed they are. What he wrote was, ''Mark, remember that life is a mathematical formula, you get back in return what you put in''. Well, in the case of 99-99.9% of human beings on this planet, I do not disagree with this great sixties algebra teacher for one dam second, Admiral kirk. However, for that always existing and unable to really ever snuff out, despite a million disagreeing Judge Judy's; point oh oh oh one percent of us like myself; THIS PRINCIPLE AND FORMULA, AND EVEN BASIC BIBLICAL SCRIPTURE, DOES NOT WORK, and guess what? THAT PROVES SOMETHING TO ME A LOT BIGGER THAN ENERGY IS EQUAL TO MASS TIMES THE SPEED OF LIGHT SQUARED, Mister A.E.



WATCH OUT MARK MOHR, A MONTH OF SHIT ASS DEATH SIEGE IS NOW TO STRIKE YOU. IF YOU CAN HEAR ME BACK THERE VIA STM, DON'T POST ALL YOUR BIG ASS SECRETS, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!









W---O---W, what a lovely fucking world this is, Mommy and Daddy. Sonic perfection notwithstanding, nor what is incorrect, huh US © Office, back in frikkin' 1984?????????







Personal magnetics (luck) call it what you wish; is at a crossroads, and can go either way. When this happens, 90 plus percent of the time, it takes a downward turn, WEIN?



Mikey is having a lot of personal problems lately, money being among the greatest; again; same-old-same-old, what else is new (SOSO-WEIN)??????????????????????????????





There are a thousand things happening, and I am no way able to keep up with blogging them all, not in the most compressed two sentences devoted to each item, imaginable. So I'll stick with major fucking shit, good folks.





It began to drizzle and then pour rain twice this afternoon here in Fort Pierce, Florida; with short duration downpours followed by sky clearings for the most part, then a return to the first cycle again. As this entire weather system began to form and rhythm out, there was a sudden very close lightning flash, the only one of the storm, but it was right outside of my window. Ever since 1979 at 112 East Fifth Avenue in Mantua, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG; I noticed that many many many many times, there would be storms containing just one lightning flash, right outside my window, and that was it. This is nothing other than my beautiful blond Astral Plane teen goddess, Diana Arteemis, letting me know she is always there close to me, and carefully watching over me, as best as she is able to do. Mortals in charge of this planet are jealous of me and hate me because I am in so tight with this wonderful gorgeous goddess. It goes way deeper than where I originally thought things started on a human plane, in the mortal world year of 1983, in Atco, New Jersey. All you need to know for right now, is that all the things discussed on all my blogs, tie together, and although may appear to be incredibly out of time-order, they are in perfect cosmic order, done with a commingled intelligence that goes far beyond my single ability to pen the blogs of Mountainpen and Morianity. I was not aware of that when this project began in early 2006 on the internet, but I am super aware of this now. What I experienced on Long Island in 1972, mistakenly thinking it was three years later when I told the story first on these blogs, roughly five years ago around this time of the year; is all a part of why I am saying this to you all right now.





As for what I said on my previous blog, kind ladies and gentlemen; and whomever; regarding my health being continuously and relentlessly messed with by the WOMO-MILITUFORCE, I plan to show you just how shit is being done, and was done right around the time this little storm was all going on, in-between the two pouring rains that were both quick and heavy. During the clearing, the clouds were white instead of dark various shades of gray and black, and suddenly out of a bunch of them, was a wide dispersing chemtrail, out to my north. I had awakened early this afternoon with no cough, no breathing disorders whatsoever, no chest heaviness or wheezing, and then I saw this outside of my window, and watched it over ten minutes slowly totally vanish into thin air. I waited to see if I would begin to get any symptoms of the past week or so, flaring up again today, but nothing, I felt totally perfect. Then twenty minutes or perhaps a little bit longer down the road, poof, I instantly started to cough and wheeze as I breathed, and also, began experiencing stomach and intestinal cramping, despite dropping a nice healthy turd when I first got up out of bed. I began to realize that this had come from my south and blew north to where it was, and it took a short time for this jet fuel poison to slowly drop down from the frozen air, to the area surrounding myself and my residence PHA building at 601 Avenue-B. The only real confirmation and proof would be if I would go up to my Weather-Bug-APP on my computer, and take a look at the wind direction arrow, and wind speed, and do the necessary calculations. Sure enough, this evil vile vicious mother fucking MILITUFORCE had illegally injured me, and made me very ill; AGAIN. The wind direction and wind speed totally verified that this jet fuel was dumped and dropped over me directly, and the time it fell, and I began breathing it in; was exactly when I went from feeling mother fucking totally fine and well, to feeling ALL FUCKED UP ALL OVER AGAIN. My great pal, the former PRINCE-ARTIST, knows that this is all real, and even knows that these fuels effect both physical as well as mental disorders, and I will now go on to tell you about it, then go up to the YOUTUBE yourselves, and begin clicking into videos such as PRINCE TALKS TO CNN ABOUT CHEMTRAILS

and many other great videos on the topic. He tells a great true story of how moods went suddenly sour all over his neighborhood, after a sudden burst of these jet fuels over the area. He believes me. Some do, some do not. I do not plan to chase people up and down stairways to try and force anyone to believe what I know beyond a fucking doubt is 100% true and real. Still, I will go on reporting the news, I won't create any of it, but I'll be god dam go to hell, if I don't keep right on mother fucking telling it. If they don't ever want to stop perpetrating this unspeakable misery on me as well as those around me when it so suits them to do this; fine; but just don't expect me to sit here and take this without a fucking cock sucking fight. If you really think you have heard anywhere near all of my tucked away juicy huge secrets, you are all in for an inconceivable rude awakening at light speed squared. Certain things happened in the very same year that my pal's old 1980 song was so famous for, fourteen years back; and then this all led to a lot of other unspeakable things, at least for right now. I am putting up with some fairly noisy fucking neighbors around me today and yesterday, lots of doors, sounds, and bullshit in general, but around here, that is merely fucking par for the course, good peeps, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So back for now to the topic of my health being hit by this attack in the skies around here today, but also, another hit on me indirectly with this same barrage of bullshit from WOMO, only they attacked another person, as they are doing with neighbors as well; in order to make them all unusually mean spirited, and quite rowdy; when it is not deserved. If I was calling people mother fuckers, or throwing lots of smelly garbage out in the hallway at them; or being rude over the telephone; then that would be one thing; but when I know that stuff is going on, that has no other possible reason to be; other than what my great old pal, the former artist PRINCE discussed on that CNN VIDEO with him; I do not need the Lord to lead me to the cross, or the Callio Clan to help me to cross over Grant Avenue, on my way back from a great sporting event that was taking place 24 years in the future in Philadelphia on Boo Day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, when I was on the telephone with Mikey, I knew he had been worked over by the same sky attack that had done its evil on me physically, only with him, he got more of the Prince-Neighborhood-Siege assault. Do any of you really need me to tell you why the great mother fucking MAJESTIC-12 is keeping lots of shit from the public? It's not TD Ameritrade, it's not rocket science, and it's not Macy Trucks or WOW TRUCKS, I promise you good folks out here, YO!!!!!!!!! They have joined the club folks, the ESS, and are having a blast fucking with those like me, and many others on their shit list, made up of those they call enemies of their cause, decent folks for the most part, haters of injustice, those who have the fucking guts to speak out, to keep fighting, to be against them, and general overall lovers of truth and integrity, sort of 'Anti-Avaloners', huh Tony Bonjovi? You see the world backwards up there in your ivory tower. You got because you did. Time runs both ways!!!!! You see, when you and your peeps treated me like total shit, after I poured out my sad story, and my heart to some of you; believing your cave age way of time running in one direction for you; and all along there you all were, never knowing that this very thing that you did to me, is why your cuzz fucking screwed you a long while back. Indeed, what goes around comes around, old sayings should never be ignored or even taken lightly. And I thought you were my friend, or at least basically honest folks. When I was working at the RPL Sound Studios from middle 1979 through early 1981, I would work nights and while asleep by day, if people were planning to fuck with me, it would come to me in dreams, looking at it the way all of you insist on, FORWARD-MORTAL. I would go in and say to peeps, OK, and then tell what they were planning. There was a dude who was a miniature Lou Ferigno who was the original ''Incredible Hulk''. He stared at me after one such episode, and said in sheer terror and fear, and I quote him now after more than three mother fucking ass decades, good peeps; ''You're haunted, man''. Well, I am not haunted folks, but the more you all fucking hurt me, the more this world will be sent further and further into an irreversible path of destruction. Right now today, I promise you all, this is just about reached the point of no return. Keep up this fucking shit on me you bastard mother fuckers, and see what happens within 50 years when this world is turned into meteor ash, with all of your fucking wild technology to try averting it; or for all you know; maybe it will come as an incurable bug, you know; a microbial invasion to which no possible immunity can be found in time. Whatever it is, I did not do it, YOU DID ALL THIS, first to me, and then to you. WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU TO TELL THE TRUTH TO THE ENTIRE WORLD, DOCTOR MOVIEDIVA MARGRET???







Mister Macy, I simply cannot resist this one, one for Gipper Reagan, one for Bob Patterson Transdimensional Cheatley, one for great Lab Technician Sciencatrons of the ESS, and definitely one for poor fucking little old me, SO HERE GOES;








W---O---W



















NIGHTY-NIGHT LADS, LASSIES, LABBERS, AND LAB-DOGS

ALSO KNOWN AS (AKA) ''L-4''.


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