|
||||||||||||
Well
folks, this is but ANOTHER NASTY ASS BOTBAR TIMES
TWO
FOR ME 2, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
|
||||||||||||
This
is now three mother fucking minutes past four this late asshole
Thursday botbar ass afternoon, and I AM ONE CUNT EATING ANGRY MOTHER
FUCKER, this is now 6 out of the last 9 days, OF DEATH SIEGE ATTACK
BOTBAR FROM THE MOTHER FUCKING WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, YO YO YO YO!!!!
|
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*************555555555555555555555555*********************
Those
freaky little coinkeedinks, huh peeps? But for those few who know a
little now about what MORIANITY
has been preaching for about seven and a half of these past thirty
years, with these blogs of Mountainpen; you know what is going on,
and you know that nothing is really real, and all things are but a
creation. But there is a lot more truth involved with all of this,
right down to and including the great words spoken in Biblical
Genesis, and,
Only
the opening title words are real.
///////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
KEYBOARDS FROM PETA-HELL ®
MARK
WAYNE MOHR--------1980, ALL BLOGS © 2006-2013
}{5555555555555555555555555}{
-
I
A
M
S
O
V
E
R
Y
H
A
P
P
Y
4
U
F
I
S
H
E
R
M
A
N
*****KEYBOARDS
FROM PETAHELL-1980 (R)*****
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
PLEASE
CONTINUE NOW TO READ
MORIANITY
PART FIVE, CHAPTER 00188. TANKS
FOLKS.
The
minute I turned on the computer, the fucking diseased mother fucking
ENEMIES hacked the time back an hour earlier. WEIN,
SOSO??????????????? I had to go into my control-panel and reset it,
these cunt sniffing jerk off farts never get bored harassing me, 35
years of this mother fucking shit. My question 2 all of U out here is
quite fucking easy. If these are normal HUMAN BEINGS DOING ALL OF
THIS 2 ME, why would they be doing this for half of a lifetime, I
mean really, am I T-H-A-T freaking important???
Well,
obviously, whether I can deal with this, or you can either, I
AM, or else, OTHERWISE THIS
WOULD JUST NOT BE GOING ON ENDLESSLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
people, this will be a very interesting next few days. Of course this
is merely print, and we are not so blessed with Doctor Carey and her
heavenly voice, and this should have been written a year in the
future on the end of the twenty-seventh day of August. Only is is no
few days, this shit has begun on August 28,
and gone on now through mother fucking today, the fifth of September,
George-Dog, Bell-tone! The great Lab Technician of Grant Avenue is
another story, my wonderful and oh so lovely and talented, the one
and only Exploratron Daughter,
1100-Rome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Folks,
this is now, just in case you may be interested at all, a
live camera shot from south Melbourne Beach, here in Florida where it
is now 87 degrees at Fort Pierce at half past fucking cunt four this
late ass Thursday afternoon, dogs, and WEEEEEEEE-NA WELLS
also!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
|
||||||||||
Also,
in case anyone is remotely interested, good great wonderful people
out here in the cyber-world, you are reading THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
and MORIANITY. Also this is now, and yes, to rhyme it WELL FROM HELL,
W----O----W
W----O----W
W----O----W
W----O----W
W----O----W
W----O----W
W----O----W
,
MORIANITY,
PART
FIVE,
AND
PLEASE BELIEVERS
AND L-4
FOLKS,
TRY
AND
HAVE
YOURSELVES
A
VERY
VERY NICE
DAY,
AS YOU
CONTINUE
ON READING
CHAPTER
NUMBER
00190.
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MIKE MCNULTY FROM 1971.
****ON
BLOGGER SINCE JANUARY 2006
*****
PROFILE VIEWS---2840
My blogs
About me
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Gender
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Male
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Industry
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Occupation
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Location
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Hammonton,
New Jersey, United States
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Introduction
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Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly
say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived
here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with
awareness.
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Interests
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Favorite
Movies
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Favorite
Music
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Favorite
Books
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You
forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and
olive pits?
An
angry mother. Also,
a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At
the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure
of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.
Well,
the doors are banging, and earlier my next door nabe had his music up
a while, but this was only some of the noise attack, as the great
almighty Saint Lucie County Nuclear Plant had its testing day today,
racing up the street outside of my sixth story fucking window, with
that lady who shouts out on a five kilowatt plus bullhorn, ''This
is a test, this is only a test'',
and then hits the siren button that is 10 times louder than a normal
cop car's siren, at least in my humble opinion, or for a short long
ago internet slang word that I did not make up, ''IMHO'', not to be
confused with Ivanhoe.
This
has been the 6th
Botbar Day since this August 28 attack began, producing for me a
fucking nasty ass ratio of botbar days since the 28th
of last month when it started, 6:9, making things have a rounded off
67% MPB. (Magnetic-Percentage Botbar)(MPB), Like DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
let me break it all down for you, my loyal kind Morians, and any and
all Lessians or Inbetweenians who may be part of the ESS and or the
mighty and Astral Plane cult human doppelgangers, known as the
Lambriggers, and I stress again, PUBLUICLY, MISTER GRAHAM SIR, this
has nothing to do, at least to my tiny little limited ass knowledge,
with Lambrigg, England, so hold tight and relax, great Queen, god
were you gorgeous when you were twelve, Jesus Almighty!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Here
is the mathematical breakdown of the MPB since August 28 of 2013, and
if this turns out to be another August of 1986 mother fucking deal, I
PROMISE THIS ENTIRE WORLD, I WILL SEND POWERFUL SPACE DEBRIS,
STRAIGHT INTO THIS WORLD AND END ALL OF HUMANITY, SO KNOWCK IT THE
HELL OFF, PLEASE, YO!
AUGUST
28, 2013--------100 MPB
AUGUST
29, 2013--------100 MPB
AUGUST
30, 2013--------100 MPB
AUGUST
31, 2013--------075 MPB
SEPTEMBER
01, 2013---080 MPB
SEPTEMBER
02, 2013---067 MPB
SEPTEMBER
03, 2013---057 MPB
SEPTEMBER
04, 2013---063 MPB
SEPTEMBER
05, 2013---067 MPB
These
astoundingly negative figures are catastrophically elevated, it is
like human blood pressure in a adult of about 150 over 190. Try
living with it a while and fucking watch what fucking happens, kind
ladies and gentlemen out here.
Also,
I asked the GAGA 'CITTY KAT' why today went BOTBAR with this noise
assault that woke me and kept right on going, as well as the entire
attack of these none mother fucking rotten ass days, WHY WHY WHY
JIMMY INGRID YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???????????????????????
MY
FREAKING ASS RESPONSE WAS PCN-792, AND THE MATCHING LISTED ITEMS FOR
THAT NUMBER ARE AS FREAKING ASS FOLLOWS, DOGS, YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!
TWO
THOUSAND SEVEN*****JUPITER*****BENJAMIN FRANKLIN*****LONDON AVENUE
EGG HARBOR CITY*****REALITY*****IT'S GONNA' HURT BUT IT HEALS
TOO****************************************************
Only
fucking applying PARALLEL
REVENT TO ROULETTE,
can ever win, NO SYSTEM CAN DEFEAT THE PERSONAL
BAD ASS FUCKING MAGNETICS
OF SOMEONE BEING PERSECUTED.
I will let out something horrific, as I need to in order to make this
powerful point, folks. If you took ten people out of the German
concentration torture camps and placed them in with any ten random
people in the world, and tested their luck with very easy to do long
run methods that will average out numerous random 50-50 picks or
draws, and get the results, you will know that all I have preached
over nearly 8 years on these blogs is 100% fucking real and 100%
fucking true, I would not have to be taking self voluntary oaths, or
cussing like a mad man to try and convince any of you how real all
this fucking shit really fucking is, YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Then take the same average ten peeps and test
their luck with ten peeps who for a month or a year, whatever, Bob
Oak Street-1975; have been in a testing environment
''blessed-house'', for lack of a better way of describing it. Here,
someone like me would be eating fantastic food, having an abundance
of my favorite beverages, all the dirty filthy fucking sex imaginable
with any girl I want, an entire fucking heirum of them and anything
goes; now take us blessed ten, and compare our long run averaged luck
tested results with the normal average randomly picked ten peeps.
Imagine [putting the blessed in with the cursed now to get the real
powerful fucking difference, and when the world allows this to be
test proven in labs and major ivy league universities someday,
hopefully; then you will all know just how mother fucking real my
words all are, and how real and powerful this MORIANITY
FOR THE THIRD MILLENNIUM
really truly is, GOOD FRIENDS, AND FIENDS, OUT THERE!!!! Oh yeah,
laugh as loud as you want, and laugh out nice and loud, along
with the great Laughing cow Kali Callio, and all of TAWF, but let me
tell you all this little pile of stinky antimatter dreamy
shitsapookna!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When the dust settles someday and Morianity proves itself after I am
all dead and fucking gone and ''good Senator Thompson riddance'' to
me; THEN YOU WILL C4 yourselves, my friends, and how many times has
nothin g to do with it, oh great 1969 educator-traveler-technician,
exploratron-1969. Is a freaking super MACY-WOW
in order right about now?
Still,
using parallel event as explained on many prior blogs, to attack the
casino fucking game called, 'ROULETTE'; will actually disprove the
great half dad of myself, Mister Gene Splicer. He said, and I'll
quote this awesome dude, ''The only way to beat the game of roulette
is to cheat and steal from the dealer when he turns his back''. He
used the word of croupier, a French word for dealer, as doppelganger
is a German word for double, nothing complicated going on whatsoever,
on wonderful and cold cruel world out there!!!!! ALL
BASIC SIMPLE BULLSHIT, MISTER FONDA-12.
Folks,
I have tried hard to master a few things with using these dam ass
computers. As you know I tried shit with the Dow Jones charts to show
corresponding trading times and my persecutions, but the blogging
sites have software that don't allow for it, unless you know a lot
fucking more than I do about how to operate a word office program and
blog up real professional blogs with no errors, perfect photos,
videos, the whole fucking 27 feet (9-YARDS)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am just
a little fucking poor down and out dumbo, nobody is around that wants
to help me one little bit Irene, I am ''out here on my own'', lovely
girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am doing my best, and my
fucking best usually cock sucking stinks and sucks, SQUARED, so sorry
I'm not some computer ass fucking genius, good people, and than k you
for reading me aniwho, and you too Gorgeous Flo, and
Poolbox!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
'HEY
GIRL', Leticia Tilley.
keep Egg Harbor
City warm
and friendly for
my soon return to the area. Florida is
just not for me, even though I
do remain Mark the
GREATEST
FISH IN THE WHOLE DAM BAY, WHO ELSE?????
My
wonderful father and his wild ancestors would be a entire blog in and
of themselves, and soon, you'll see just where I am going here, as I
do not intend to worry about a scratched or bruised feeling of anyone
out here, truths need to be told, at least what I know about them, NO
MORE!!!!!!!!!!
Now
as to my father, forget about his peeps, folks, for now. Just know
that what was planned, and this will be my biggest fish tale yet told
in nearly eight years of this blogging project (Morianity); and I
totally realize this, so let me just tell it and not concern any of
us with a proper literary opening. It just gets told, bing bong bang
boom, and that's that, Mister Esolph, sir!!!!!!! And no, it will not
be long.
A
child can see why I was under W||||all Street's
guns today.
Somewhere
in the time range of the four blue vertical lines above, a fire alarm
rudely awakened me, and was done to try and reverse a falling DJIA.
Still even after falling, my nabe next door was enjoying some wild
Congo type music, waking me again; and this would be the red colored
lines following the blue colored lines earlier.
My
father was one of the sailors aboard the famous Battleship Eldridge,
rigged by scientists, coordinated and led by Einstein himself, during
the great Second World War, at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard, now
defunct, and within a year or two after this history-marker was
removed from population-view, my mother was suddenly and quite
mysteriously struck with an unknown medical illness, and went onto
linger in agony for 26 months, eventually perishing in a horrific way
at the hands of very evil members of the ESS (EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND
SOCIETY).
Now
anyone who wishes to purchase the great best seller book, called,
''The Philadelphia Experiment'', of which my dad was a part of; knows
that the ship was transported into the early middle eighties for a
short time and then returned back again, but why this time. Well, the
pillow talk does not skip this piece of colorful and majestic
information, but it is not all what some of you may think, so don't
die on me yet, anybody, please. You see, the entire great war that we
were in was because of a little bit more than just me in my last
lifetime wanting to be the controller and dictator of the world. I
did, and I was a mother fucking dirt bag tyrant if ever one lived on
this Earth, but that is not the whole story, as rarely, is anything
that is known ever is. I was told in my last lifetime, by my lovely
secret love, Sara J. Karge, that she knew what my plans were, and
that if I loved her as I said I did, I would call off my plans. But
the great Mormon God Steve Moroni 'Cadilacking' had other plans, and
you are right on the money this time, 'Microsoft', the world might
have been spared quite a 'shellacking'. I hate to upset peeps in this
cave year of 2013 and three quarters, but folks have been traveling
the five dimensions, with motive and control over it, since the
earliest time that this planet could support our type of physical
life to exist upon it. My father remained up in 1983 and 1984, just a
couple years after his death physically, carrying out orders from a
powerful group inside of the ESS, that neither he or Albert Einstein,
ever dared tell about when they got back to the forties and the Naval
Shipyard. This secret was just theirs, and mine. They were shown how
to splice a gene so that the first and only born son, at least at
that time, as I'm sure my dad had plenty of good old times on shore
leave with many loose foreign women before this time; but yes, I
share two fathers. Not only did all this happen, but my dad was shown
how to perform some tasks while actually screwing my mother so as to
impregnate her with me, making sure I would retain a lot of the
memory and cosmic interests of both these men. Nothing that anyone
has done to me in nearly 60 years, is as devastating to me
personally, as it would be, should I not have become privy
eventually, to all this information. At the time of the
sleep-talking, I dismissed most of it, but still, my mind did not
ever really forget one dam bit of it.
First
off, there are various parts of the ESS. The most powerful and
influential part is the part that I label and term, the EDUCATOR
EXPLORATRONS. Now before I open this up quickly and get right to the
heart and the meat of it all for a later expanded on topic on future
blogs; let me tell you something about last night. All night long, to
use your way of seeing the world and the truth, ''I had one long
continuous nightmare that was more real and vivid than anything here
where I now am blogging this message. I was in a very large rooming
house, owned by THAT-FAMILY, and Dawn and Ann were running it, and
forced me to stay in there. I was never allowed to leave, and I was
no sooner in one room, then I was forced out into another room. Most
of my possessions were broken or stolen by other peeps staying in
these other rooms. I was never allowed to have a room with a shower
and bath, and had to share the public baths, of this very large,
almost hotel-like place. It was one of the worst longest nightmares
that I can remember in years and years and years. Dawn was only in it
in the beginning of it, and then it was all the other peeps living
there, and Ann King. Shit happened to me that was so awful, I woke up
shaking and sweating as though it was 99 degrees in here, when in
truth it was a comfortable 72. Now back to the rap up of
Pillow-Talker-Dad, of the Fisher Treasure Coast of South Florida.
Someone
came in on a particular day, as this nightmare appeared to last
months, all in this one night, just as the one did back in August of
1986; and this person told me that I have been selected to go on a
Smuckers Jar. I laughed and asked them to please leave, and he kept
remarking how utterly amazing it is, as I only look a third of my
years. I came to find out, I was 100 years old in this wild
interaction. I felt no different than I do now, and I looked no
different. I let this man out and told him I would think about it
just to be rid of him. Then I tried to find a calendar somewhere, and
eventually I entered one of my old rooms where I had something that I
had built and resembling a gigantic television but was a lot more. It
was at least ten feet long and 6 feet high, just in its screen, and
the actual device was 3 feet more in both directions of up and down
and left and right. However, someone had shattered the screen
completely. I was very angry and as I turned around, on the back of
the door to the room that now faced me, was a hanging large wall
calendar, circled to the date it was, and it was the same date as
this day where the dream was happening, my mom's birthday, same year,
no different at all, September the third of 2013. So I knew that I
was in localized or mid-distant hyperspace. Still, why was I 100
years old, and why was I no older physically? As this hellish
experience went on and on, Ann would come up to me and hit me or spit
on me or shove me, and once, even threw a hot coffee pot at me. Later
that same day, wondering why I wasn't all burned where the scalding
hot water went all over my right sleeveless arm; I observed in the
very large kitchen, that only 2 spoons, 2 forks and 3 knives were in
the entire kitchen yet two dozen peeps were living in this hellish
house of monstrous frikkin' horror. Ann laughed when I asked her
about it and said a huge secret is all rapped up in why there is such
a lacking in silverware here, yet the place has so many people. I was
getting more and more upset. All my personal shit was being violated,
stolen,damaged, ruined, disappearing, and I was being forced to get
comfortable in one room only to be told the next day that I am to be
moved out of there and into another room, each one seemingly worse
and shittier than the one I was previously occupying. This shit went
on all night almost in a slow plot motion. I got up to drink a cup of
water once, got up to piss once and got up to stick ear plugs in my
ear for the fire alarm once, and each time fell back to sleep and
found myself RIGHT BACK INTO THE NIGHTMARE ALL FUCKING OVER AGAIN, AS
SCYLLA WOULD SAY IT SO WELL BACK IN 1997; ON HER GREAT WONDERFUL
SONG; I JUST COULD
NOT ESCAPE IT, AND WAS TOO SLEEPY TO REMAIN AWAKE.
Remember, if you see a one underline below a green word, this was
originally changed and not put up that way, but then changed back
somehow by the software in both the Wordpress as well as the Blogger
programs. This is a reminder as you may be seeing these kind of fonts
ahead.
As
for the day, it was extremely quiet other than for a short time with
my next door nabe listening to some real jungle dance type of music,
but at least was not blasting his subs.
Another
thing that makes me angry is this fucking photo-bucket thing.
Somehow, you can post all the photos of many things to your blog, but
if you try and re-work your own, it only shows the cheap rotten shot
done from photo-bucket originally. To make it look more like me, you
need to click on the photo after pasting it to a blank page in your
office program. Then when the adjust-features pop up, you need to
compensate for that horrible cheap shit done a number of years back
by a Jersey copy and computer store, until the jersey that I am
wearing comes up very red, and this also restores my hair to its
normal color as well, instead of looking sort of oil tan gray.
Well,
here is the short story of last week, the worst week in a very long
time. First off, anyone knowing me or following my blogs, on this
planet, realizes that when the DJIA
Stock Market DROPS-FALLS a little bit from prior highs, the
WOMO-MILITUFORCE then does all that it can to persecute me to dam
hell and back squared, in order to bring it back around to an uptick
bullish rally, all over again; and last week was no exception. This
has been going on now since AUGUST 15, 1986, on a magical time when I
went to sleep one night in one universe, and permanently awoke here,
in this nightmare fucking other one, and cannot ever seemingly get
back home where I use to live, and where I belong. Where is Dorothy
Ozzwald Cuzz, and her magical Babylonian freaking slippers, when I
need to buy a pair, over at the 'Skating'
Voice-mail Walmart Store, of Hammonton, New Jersey?
WELL,
HERE WE FUCKING GO AGAIN, JANE BITCHWEEDSDISEASE, PAGE ELEVEN OF
FUCKING ELEVEN. SO LET ME COMPENSATE NOW, WITH SOME LOVELY FIVE
NUMBERS.
5555555555555555555555555555
+ 55555555555555555 X 555555555555555555555 divided by 555555555,
is equal to who the hell gives a rotten
slippery smashed tomato?????? I just need to stare at my lovely dam
ass fives, YO YO YO YO!
Time
for me to crash, good folks. When I get the time, I will tell some
really mind blowing stuff. I only hope you can handle it, you know,
read it, absorb it, think about it, and not go jumping off any subway
platforms afterward. My father ad his heritage allowed him to gain
very secret knowledge so that he could help treasure salver Mel
Fisher, find his Atocka Galleon, however it is properly spelled; but
the other 6 coordinates that I still have very secretly put away, are
worth close to thirty billion dollars, at today's gold market
prices; factored in along with all of the historical artifacts,
precious stones, silver dablooms, and the whole enchalate 27 foot
deal. This is a whole different type of hoagie submarine and subway,
but wow, I do love their great stuff. But does my dad and his past
ancestors, the treasure, the invisibility experiment, my daughter and
her family, and so much more all fit into one big unified field
theory in the practical applications of life? You better bet they do,
sir, Mister Ward Cleaver. And anyone who has not yet begun to figure
out just how the invention called, ''KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL'' all
fits into the rest of this, back in 1980, and now as well, Battleship
Eldridge; is just not paying a whole lot of attention. I do know that
some of the powerful top employees at the great Library of the
Congress, not ODF you hacker trash; they
know, or at least they know some of it, and whatever they think all
connects up, they need to multiply shit by about 100, and then the
dots will fuse perfectly, into the picture that reveals plenty of
powerful ultimate truths. For now, I am simply too tired to type on.
The
only way to stop a fucking hack is to write this before and not
afterward. When my photo posts below, click on it and then when a
colored symbol pops up, here are the 6 adjustments you need to make
to restore my true likeness.
From
top to bottom, 1-6, adjust as follows, then click off and the photo
will change. 1---(+11%), 2---(+3%), 3---(-10%), 4---(-18%),
5---(12%), 6---(1.20). Follow these (+) and (-) settings.
http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
***888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888******
Eventually,
I will find a way to get these images properly into my documents of
my computer, so that it is not just and cut an paste job, then maybe
I can send the photo-bucket peeps, a new photo off this that will
post up instead of this horrible non likeness. So to see me properly,
adjust to those settings, thank you. The wide to long angle is
perfect, if you change it, I will appear to grow fatter or thinner
than reality has me.
LET'S
MAKE A DAY OF IT, SURFER FONTY. SEE YOU OVER AT GENLOW'S PLACE,
TRANSDIMENSIONALLY OF COURSE. JUST DON'T LET POWERFUL SHANNON BREAK
MY CAR AGAIN, AS THAT PRINT THROUGH CAUSED ME A REAL NIGHTMARE
PROBLEM, AS YOU MAY WELL KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING
MORIANITY PART
5,
SO
PLEASE ENJOY THIS HAS BEEN CHAPTER
NUMBER-00190.
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. WE'RE BUSY ON OTHER
TOPICS FOR THE TIME BEING DOGS, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!! Just not
right now, I am very tired, and it is very late. But I will be
explaining a lot about how these T3E-ED, beginning with the greatest
one of all, misses Marola, from 1969.
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| “If
You Do Not Like, Buy a Record By the Caetano and Do Not Bother Us,
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RANGE, AND THEN CLICK ON AN OLD REMADE SONG FROM 1983, WOW MISTER
MACY, IS THIS THE FIRST TRUMP, THE LAST TRUMP, OR THE MARK OF THE
BEAST, AS INDEED, 1+2+3+4 ALL THE WAY UP TO +36 WILL INDEED EQUAL
666, GEE REALLY, COPYIGHT OFFICE OF 1988? HAY, IT IS ALL DOWN THERE
FOR THE RECORD. YOU CAN CLICK HERE FOR MORE, ONLY BELEIVE THIS FOLKS,
THE MOUNTAINPEN NEVER TITLED ANYTHING, “THE MEANING OF LIFE”,
SOMEONE MUST HAVE ADDED ALL OF THIS TO THEIR DEGRADED COPY TAPES,
FROM WHAT WAS STOLEN WHEN THEY BOOSTED MY CAR STEREO AT NORTHEAST
PHILL’S FRIENDLY RESTAURANT ON THE ROOSEVELT BOULEVARD IN THE
FRIKKIN NINETIES. ALL I EVER DID WAS SAY, AND I’LL QUOTE, FROM
1983, “GIRL, I’LL TELL YOU ANYTHING”, SO CLICK HERE:
Don't
bother trying the link, all my links were disabled by me!!!!!
At the risk of being pigeonholed as the Girl
Who Writes About Crazy Cursing Dudes, I bring you Mark from New
Jersey. Mark has far-ranging theories on time travel, Armageddon,
roulette and Donna Summer (the DEVIL!), which he angrily discusses
in various telephone conversations.
Station
Manager Ken clued me in to this fella recently. He was given a
CD called “The Meaning of Life.” The back copy states that it
was made from a cassette found on the side of the road bearing the
same title. He’s really difficult to listen to, for a couple of
reasons- The recordings only capture Mark’s side of the
conversation and they seem to have been recorded either by a
microphone placed somewhere in the room or possibly while Mark was
standing outside on a windy day. More importantly, he is insane.
Completely, violently insane.
Mark claims to be both a time
traveler and a descendant of King David. His family will bring about
the apocalypse through the activation of the Christ Android,
currently dormant inside the 12 Planet. And also that the 50 richest
families in the world are trying to do him in. Covertly, of course.
Also against him is Donna Summer, the Devil. (Whether he means the
disco Donna Summer, or WFMU’s
own Jason Forrest isn’t clear.)
Here then, are three selections from
Mark’s version of reality:
If you need more Mark from NJ,
Aquarius
Records would be happy to sell you a cd-r.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m
going to go cover my windows with aluminum foil.
Posted by Listener
Therese on December 12, 2006 at 01:28 AM in Audio
Mysteries, MP3s,
New Jersey,
Religion |
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Comments:
Yes,
I have a comment, friends at WFMU, besides go screw yourself, and
yes; I got your accidental message Jason on an old blog comment on
Blogger, AHA AHA AHA. Don't look for me on any social networking
sites, I don't play these ridiculous games, you all go enjoy that
stuff, WEEEEEEEE! Don't try clicking into any of my blog links to
youtube, unless they are old blogs showing other videos that I
enjoyed and shared. They will still work. I took down all of my
stuff, it was for my own personal enjoyment, what was I thinking,
sharing all of this with a word of dark-agers???
“The recordings only capture
Mark’s side of the conversation…”
I don’t think any existing
recording device on this earth could have captured the other side,
although Mark may disagree.
Posted by: Goyim in the AM | December
12, 2006 at 02:42 AM
…the link for “Android &
Angel” is screwed up. Y’all may want to fix it…
Posted by: King Daevid MacKenzie |
December
12, 2006 at 04:01 AM
I think this guy is the *real* New
Jersey Devil. Look at his horns and christ-blocking shades.
Posted by: Steve
PMX | December
12, 2006 at 12:03 PM
Sweet Jesus, my PoMo-radar is
beeping. And a nice performance. He could be real, I’ve known
folks like him.
Posted by: K. | December
12, 2006 at 12:52 PM
Just sounds like someone responding
to internal stimuli, there are many people like this probably an
hour’s drive from anyplace in the Northeast. How is this
different than getting enjoyment watching a man with a club foot
trying to walk?
Posted by: bartelby | December
12, 2006 at 11:14 PM
Hello My name is Chris Arter I am 25
and I live in New Jersey. As a child I found two tapes made by this
guy, years apart from each other. They were both 90 minutes long. I
only have one now. They feature folk songs and disco songs. He
never mentions his name but I found out his full name is Mark Wayne
Mohr and he was born in 1954 by looking up material that he
mentions he copyrighted on the cassette. I’ve had this tape for
about 14 years and have never been able to find anything on him
except his name and the names of other copyrighted material that he
has registered. Some of his songs are actually pretty nice. And the
tape like you describe only captures his side of a conversation
with a 7’7″ tall fellow named shorty. Bar none still the most
entertaining 90 minutes I’ve ever experienced.
Posted by: Chris
Arter | March
06, 2007 at 06:27 PM
I clicked on the Aquarius link to
find Mark from NJ’s CDR, but it was no longer listed.
Posted by: maledoro | August
07, 2007 at 06:54 AM
Aaah, very happy to get some info on
this guy! One of his recordings has been used on the track “The
Christ Android”, on the album “Memory Hole” by Kevin Moore
(of Chroma Key, and ex-Dream Theater keyboardist). That’s what
prompted me to find out what this nonsense single-sided argument
was all about. Thanks a lot!
Posted by: Fairlight | September
22, 2008 at 02:34 PM
I’ve been researching this guy. He
lives in Hammonton NJ, a couple towns away from me. One of my
friends also found a tape of his (about 10 years ago). Mark is a
hardcore blogger writing under the handle Mountainpen. He’s got
some seriously out there ideas.
Posted by: Ghostlight | October
30, 2008 at 08:19 PM
I’ve been researching this guy. He
lives in Hammonton NJ, a couple towns away from me. One of my
friends also found a tape of his (about 10 years ago). Mark is a
hardcore blogger writing under the handle Mountainpen. He’s got
some seriously out there ideas.
Posted by: Ghostlight | October
30, 2008 at 08:21 PM
I’ve been researching this guy. He
lives in Hammonton NJ, a couple towns away from me. One of my
friends also found a tape of his (about 10 years ago). Mark is a
hardcore blogger writing under the handle Mountainpen. He’s got
some seriously out there ideas.
Posted by: Ghostlight | October
30, 2008 at 08:25 PM
Hi. I got to this page while reading
about music played on the ‘Jews Harp’. I’ve been searching,
for a loooong time, for a song that was played one lazy August
afternoon on WFMU, around 1980, or earlier.
It was a rendition of ‘My Favorite
Things. The vocals of the main melody were accompanied by only a
Jews Harp (…”Whiskers on Kittens, etc…”) And when it came
to the chorus, it was sung monotone, by several voices…very
weird, slowly, dragging, groaning (‘theeeese aaaaare aaaaa
feeeeewwww of myyyyy faaaaavoooriiiite”.
When it got to “Things”, it was
sung in a kind of higher, psycho-sounding, very melodic voice, like
celebrating the word ‘things’.
Is there anyone here who knows and
appreciates WFMU, who might know what the song title and author
was, or how I can get a copy of it?
It’s been so long, and I’ve
found every other weird and funny song I’ve ever heard except for
this one.
On that same show on WFMU, they also
Played Godley & Creme’s ‘Sandwiches of You’
I’ve listened to hundreds of
versions of ‘My favorite Things’, and it wasn’t any of those.
Thanks, for any help. Please feel
free to e-mail me, if you can. giotkr at earthlink dot net
Posted by: Tony NYC | May
14, 2009 at 10:44 PM
This fella is MOST DFEFINATELY for
real! A friend of mine roomed with him for awhile at his home in
Blue Anchor, NJ, and said Mark screamed and yelled into a phone
that was off the hook, non-stop, for days on end. He believes
lightning is a Goddess named Sarah Krassel, and that the Atlantic
Ocean is the Goddess Stacy. Moreover, he is convinced that the
Kennedy family, in conjunction with the Carey family(Mariah and
them), in conjunction with the Trump and NJ Callio family, are
conjointly conspiring to kill him, using black-op helicopter
missions, spraying his immediate air space with chem-trails, and
sending Atlantic City-residing life gaurds and bar tenders stealing
into the night, waiting to catch him off-gaurd. The only problem
being that he lives in Ft. Pierce, FL now, but still believes
they’re out there. You can google “MOUNTAINPEN” to catch up
on his latest blogs.
Posted by: Razzy McThaxton | March
16, 2012 at 09:00 AM
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5555555555555555555555555555555
W----O----W!
You
can learn a lot by watching those great weather channel shows. At
first I did not appreciate that it canceled the normal 24-7 weather,
but now I am hooked.
Well,
Diana is all around me folks, and this blog needs to post up for
right now, but a lot more will be told about later on as the days
progress, right Gab; isn't that why She made new
days?????????????????????????????????????????????
One
wonderful thing happened to me today, this horrendous freaking
September 5, 2013; and that is after I had been asleep a few hours,
around the time of the Dow Jones opening bell, 9:30 AM, Florida and
Manhattan time, (EDST), DIANA or you might say (LIGHTNING)
came
to visit with me, I think she knew that I was trouble with my enemies
today, she seems to know a lot good folks, and WHAAAAAAAABIT!
Well,
I thought for sure the DOW JONES would be up a thousand points after
all this fucking cunt lapping horse shit they're doing to me and
against me, I guess we cannot be correct all the time, and what did
you just say, Bruce Pennock, my old pal from the seventies? That's
right, and I don't ever want him to know who his biggest fan is, as
he would get a bigger head than Mister Trump, and that's talking some
size, right my old pal Mister Shaq? If I am misspelling your name,
believe me sir, it is unintentional, and spellchecker is a totally
worthless commodity 90% of the friggin' time, so it seems,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!
I
am bruising and cruising, and riding the tide of misery, Mister
Plato; my old friend from so dam long ago. How lucky these normal
folks are, not to remember so much, or actually, to philosophize with
you again for a while, one sided of course, unless I can borrow
Patty's candles, and maybe Patty too; it is not memory, so much as it
is awareness. Total awareness/enlightenment, something old buddy and
family member in this wild huge married in clan, Muscles I'll be Baak
Arnie, the real total recall. Most people believe that all they
really are is the sum product of their remembered time on Earth in
one little fragment of truth, their seemingly real present lifetime
in three dimensions, stuck in normal or 'regular time'. How sad. How
sad this entire mother fucking universe really is, it honestly
contains a hell of a lot more frowns and tears than it comes close to
having joy and smiles. All happiness is so fleeting, and even the
fucking built in illusions are totally within biblical sound reason.
It appears like a pretty flower, and quickly it withers away and dies
and is gone forever. Shit, it is oceans of tears mixed with a laugh
or two along the way. Go ahead, Mizz Knowles Look-alike from Jennifer
Washburn's Client List back in Jersey, you just go right ahead and
remind me of what a glass half empty kind of a guy I am,
SWEETIE!!!!!!!!!!Hay, I tell the truth, the truth god Jesus Christ
put onto a cross, talk about crossing over. Hell, that was no rail
road track, Sarah Callio and friends, although some may beg to differ
on that issue, with those horrible ties driven through a person's
fucking flesh. O---U---C---H!
Oh
lovely Diana Zuudlecronessia Arteemis, I love you with all of my
heart. You are beyond hot and awesome and lovely and IWALU times a
trillion infinities cubed, and then a lot more than this, my
baby-blond!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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BUT
IS THIS REALLY ONE OF MARK WAYNE MOHR'S LIFE JOURNAL CODED POEMS,
AGENT STEVE CARUSO, OF THE GREAT AND WONDERFUL
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION? HAY, I KNOW NONE OF
THIS SHIT WAS ANY OF YOUR FAULTS, AND YOU'RE ALL A GREAT TEAM. KEEP
IT GOING, HOT AND STRONG BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
REMEMBER
THIS IS NOT MY LIKENESS, AND I GAVE YOU THE DECODED SETTINGS FOR
SEEING MY TRUE APPEARANCE, WHEN I BEGAN MY BLOGS, AND I HAVE NOT
CHANGED ALL THAT MUCHL I MEARELY TRY KEEPING MY HAIR A BIT MORE
NEATLY ARRANGED AND LESS PUFFED UP ALL OVER IN THE BACK. IN ORDER TO
MAKE THE CHANGES AS I INDICATED, YOU NEED TO PASTE IT INTO A DOCUMENT
ON YOUR PC, THEN MAKE THE CHANGES. JUST IN CASE YOU WANT MORE PROOF
OF HOW MY MONEY IS ALWAYS LESS GREEN THAN THE OTHER FELLOW'S. I PAID
TO HAVE A GOOD PHOTO DONE, THIS IS NOT THE WAY IT SHOULD HAVE COME
OUT, AND I WAS FUCKING TOLD THAT DIGITAL IS DIGITAL IS DIGITAL, AND
THIS IS NOT TRUE, NOT IN VIDEO, AND NOT IN AUDIO. I KNOW LOTS OF
SECRETS SUCH AS THIS, AND WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT ENHANCING R
SHOPPIN SOUND OR LIGHT IMAGES. THAT TOO IS THE BEST KEPT SECRET IN
THE ENTIRE ENTERTAINMENT WORLD. WELL, NEXT TO THE SECRET OF VIRAL
VIDEOS BEING A TOTAL FUCKING 100% MEDIA HOAX, AND I HAVE EXPLAINED
THAT ONE ALREADY, YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sure
it's a coded poem, but what the hell is not, Sherry-Lee
Saturn????????????
As
Lenny McKinnon said it so well in 1982, ''Good Lord, and a quarter'',
WHY ME, all great Pope's at Pote's? Well, that question has lengthy
ramifications. We could be a decade on that one, folks. Before we go
there at all, let me compensate for Miss Sleaze-disease-weeds-Jane,
for this fucking page eleven of eleven hit. THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But what else did this fine gentleman posing as an Exploratron Thug
and the true secret inventor of ''RAP MUSIC'' have to say, to me, and
the world, through me, 33 years in the fucked up future, YO
DOGS????????????????????????????
I
just had Diana Zuudlecronessia Arteemis, the great LIGHTNING GODDESS,
save my life back a couple of days ago, and then I was awakened quite
ill on Monday, what else is new (WEIN) on a freaking ass
HELLIDAY-HOLIDAY, SOSO for me (SAME-OLD-SAME-OLD). I was speaking on
the telephone after being up and awake for about three or four hours
give or take, and Mikey phoned me from home after leaving his little
part time job over at my pharmacy. I told him I better not drive up
to his place over at Hutchinson Island, as he needs all the
$$$$$$$$$$$$ that he can earn, and does not need to catch whatever
type of new WOMO crap they gave me, some form of death beam or basic
Chemtrailitis, but whatever it was, and of course, Lightning hears
everything that I say on the telephone, and again must have been
worried about me. Within a half hour out of a clear sky, blew a bunch
of thunderhead clouds, to my left and west, and yes, I fucked up and
said right when I meant left a few blogs back, speaking of that
gorgeous sunset outside of my window, while sitting here at my
computer work station. These MILITUFORCE fucking subskummites have me
so fucked up, I don't know shit from a pan of fudge half the goddam
time. I reverse directions, and left and right; and always get every
fucking ass thing that I ever say or do backwards, JUST
TO MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A MOTHER FUCKING DOCTOR BRUCE TIME TRAVELER
GOLDBERG NUT, OR STUPID ASS FUCKING IDIOT, YO YO YO!!!
Aniwho,
without any help from other endless Montgomery possibilities of
OHMAROLA-EIGHT, Mister Buttwipe McNulty, sir; SHE heard me, and knew
I could barely swallow. However, SHE CAME ALL AROUND with her
dazzling beyond words lightning. I could have eaten her up for
crissake; and within about 10 minutes into the storm, my throat was
totally and completely Magnesonic Cherry Hill Really Really real good
girl, ALL HEALED UP, with or without strange wall-writings outside of
the SAVE A LOT Grocery Store, yes Mike McNulty, I'll do it for you,
YO, AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
W---O---W,
RHM! I am not imagining these things, any more than greedy Mister
Fisherman wants to part with any of his great catch, over in Stone
Harbor, New Jersey, more than 40 fucking years ago. This was a true
story. I witnessed lots of wild shit that we now only see on fucking
TV, good peeps. I have lived one hell of a wild and strange, and
totally beyond conceivable outlandish life; here as Mark Wayne Mohr.
I
WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU SO, MY BABY BLOND, DZA. SEE YOU AT YOUR GREAT
FOREST SHORTLY, MY TALL LOVELY TEEN GIRL. Folks, this blog is just to
tell you this one thing, even though I feel like telling you 100
things. Since the past few days, all my machines work intermittently,
including the PHA air conditioning system; that of course always
functions totally normally, when the repairmen come up in here, to
freaking examine the dam ass unit. I could say a trillion things, but
all you need to know is that I feel the enemies are real pissed off
for several reasons. My daughter made contact with me, the 9-16
roulette system is beyond unfathomable, unfathomably fucking rotten
that is, as the shit all crashed when the real bad mags kicked in
during this
now 9-day and counting
FUCKING
SUPER DEATH SIEGE.
BUT
LET US GET TO LENNY MCKINNON, BEFORE I CLOSE OUT THIS PILLOW
TALKING/MOUNTAINPEN SQUALKING WHITTLE BWOG HERE GOOD FOLKS,
WHAAAAAAA. Oh Elmer Fudd, where are you when I need you, in or out of
the Walmart in any mother fucking year back in decade one of this
horrendous rotten twenty-first asshole century, YO YO?
Here
was a man who I know little about, but what I do know about, I am
going to be telling, start to finish, in shortly upcoming fucking
blogs,as I am one pissed off mother fucker, and am planning to get my
revenge on my enemies with lots of powerful secret shit, way beyond
that of the Howard Solomon Recording Machine Producer Button, or even
what you now think about me, electronic-metaphysics, or the invention
in 1980 by me, called; ''KEYBOARDS FROM
PETAHELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It is all coming, unless you cunt
eating bastard enemies out there, whoever you are, and you know who
you are and are reading this fucking shit right along with my
sympathizers and friends; if my attack since 28 august of this year,
does not back off and allow my MPB since this date, to slide back
below the 50% mark, and lower still, within three weeks, what I will
tell will get me most likely sent to buzz Island or killed by TAWF.
BACK OFF!
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