MORIANITY
PART VI
CHAPTER
XL
4:52
PM-EDST
26
OCTOBER, 2013, SATURDAY
Well
people, thee are a lit of folks who love to really slam their dirt
bag doors, and I am doing my best to get used to this crude, rude,
obnoxious, outrageous, despicable behavior, around this place called
a public housing building and AKA now and not Prince Artist and my
friend formerly and still m y friend and sufferer with jet and sky
persecutions, ROACH MOTEL CITY. At least the Prince-Sky deal is
quiet today, unlike yesterday with many many trails and lots of
menacing small weird looking aircraft's stalking me, once real low
and close both inside my apartment as well as outside while on my
three mother fucking errands, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But the old existing phenomenon came right to me yesterday, on
several occasions, that I did not tell you all the details about; and
still will not, for obvious safety reasons, as just maybe, you dirt
ball enemies of the WOMO-MILITUFORCE, I have a new girlfriend, and
maybe not, but that is for you to fucking worry about, as if I do,
next week the Dow Jones will drop 1000, and if I don't, it will climb
another 3000. This fucking shit has been going on for going on 28
years now, early in 1986. I have called this unexplainable wild
element since about 1991 when I believe I began first observing it so
incredibly and accurately; while living in Gibbsboro, New Jersey at a
rental home that was owned by the mother of a New Jersey State Police
Officer, Misses Meeker; the parallel event of my being major
persecuted without let-up, and the intense pussy-command that it
causes, shortened to the Persecution Pussy-Command or the (PPC)
abbreviated out. This PPC to this day goes on. Yesterday during my
extended harassment now of roughly the past two solid fucking cunt
weeks where it also brought their evil fucking APE stock market way
up as a result, naturally and of fucking ass course; it kicked in. As
I get older, it takes a little bit longer, but it does magically and
without rational explanation, kick in strong and hard, eventually.
When it does, you might think that I'm so non hyperspace-me Disney
child star. Women and even very young girls, just begin appearing
around me and literally start throwing themselves at me, and no on
can tell me that this is not totally ass supernatural. Yesterday
after it kicked in, it lasted until I almost had driven home, and
after the enemy attacks had backed the fuck off after I left
Hutchinson Island. Two of the 4 females involved were about 15 and 18
years of age, and were smiling and staring at me like they wanted to
throw me down and fuck my dam ass brains out. Also, this siege caused
a small but definite giant-pussygram, where many women all around my
proximity were way over the average for the heights of normal grown
females, and I have all the government charts on norms for areas,
heights weights, men and women, age 12 up to fully grown, even
international statistics. Nothing is that hard to obtain research
work on anymore, thanks to the great almighty fucking internet. So I
know when things are a little more than just slightly not normal and
entering the zone of outlandishness. AHA-AHA-AHA Mike McNulty kind
sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
do I plan to tell you all some more about the great coworkers of my
mother and her office days at Lavino, Shirley Levinson, and Patricia
Hollister, and just how my mother and I decided it might be a good
idea for me to go to the office of a certain throat specialist in
Northeast Philadelphia, roughly a decade or a tad little more, and in
the very same neighborhood practically, as when my Saturn car was
completely brutally ripped apart and all my items in it and in the
trunk were boosted by hip-hop thugs and total miserable lowlife
trash, right my buddy, Sheriff Kenny Mascara of Saint Lucie County,
Florida????????????
Well
Mizz Hollister and her friend Santa Claus, or his doppelganger
''look-alike'' aniwho, helped my mom and I move from the Russ Thaxton
Chain Steal Trinitrail Apartments of Oaklyn, New Jersey, over to 1118
Linden Hill Apartments, of Lindenwold, New Jersey, in March of 1975.
She also is directly quenergy responsible, for my learning and
practicing the great Fascitar Ancient Black Art, Huh Steve
Pointerplants Earlydinger???????? Well, without delving too deeply
into Annie wilson, her sister, her mama, or her great magic man, or
hit record a short while later; I'll merely say that Shirley, Patty's
coworker and girl-pal; punt me onto this wild medical office just off
Grant Avenue, and told me that similar Ron Wirtz Senior, ADA,
speech-advice, that even outside of Carlisle, Pennsylvania, ''My
answers in this case, to my throat problems, can be found here, just
as later, to my SARAH WOES, they can be found, according the great
ADA, out in that lovely mid-western town, also in Pennsylvania. WOW,
we're giving you some real ink-fame on this blog, huh William
Penn?????
This
specialist had a beautiful young technician who seemed to be one of
those who I run into quite often, being me and under my family
'situation', call it whatever you like, saying curse makes me look
like a Bruce Goldberg nut, so I'll refrain from wording it as such,
YO. In any event folks, before I met this doctor, or her, I spoke
wuith her on the telephone, and in those days, all calls were
recorded by me, all residences were bugged up, I was the originakl
Dick Nixon, but a secret abvout even this is stalking the world.
President Nixon did not do this, he just continued a recent legacy in
the White House. You see, it was really someone in this great TAWF or
THAT-FAMILY, that began this great tape-recording of everything
tradition, and a great man who never asked what his country could do
for him, but rather, concentrically; what he could do for his
country, and he did something, he became our thirty-fifth American
President. This is a very wild family from beyond the stars. The
closest in-link cousin is McGuire, the man we won't talk too much
about, a very deadly and dangerous evil powerful man, who can do
things that I have witnessed, that send chills up my mother fucking
spine, down in fucking ass Atlantic City, New Jersey, well, now I l
should say up there, now that I am down here, right my friend, DMC?
Loud shouting and doors, wow, what a FOOD PUKE DAY followed by ''one
of those NEXT DAYS'', here in this hellish PHA!!!!!
Anyway,
we had quite a long talk on the phone, later I met her. Now this is
the year of 1984. For a long time my seeing her was blocked from
conscious memory, only remembering seeing the doctor and not getting
any satisfaction for my extremely mysterious medical condition that
persists to this very day, over 30 years of this unknown glandular
disorder that came on suddenly at 10:30 PM-EDST, on June 4, 1983;
while I was residing at 134 Norris Avenue, in Atco, New Jersey. The
memory that was lost somehow, came in a wild dream about two weeks
ago, around the very same time all of this persecution started
re-exploding in my face, after a tiny let-up period. When I got
there, I sat down and had a very short wait, a rare occurrence in any
medical office in most places anywhere in the USA. I signed in a
normal patient-book and sat down, and she walked up to me and told me
how she had enjoyed speaking with me a while back, and that she tried
calling me before but did not have my PCN. I gave it to her, it was,
and I still remember it, as it matched the apartment number I lived
at in Robin Hill, number 506. She never called back, and I found out
that she had been called back to some other location, when I called
to inquire months later, and spoke to another assistant of this
specialist. She went onto add that she was not doing this type of
work and was back in school. My mother then told me something an
entire year later one night over dinner during a heated debate and
very strange conversation, while we were living in Cinnaminson, New
Jersey, in the early spring time of 1985. I was telling her about
these recurring dreams where I was some sales rep manager for some
regional area that was not around here, for the S-DAY LAUDER Company,
however it really is spelled. She insisted that I couldn't be having
these dreams while I stared at her like a mad man most likely, I was
extremely pissed off. I remember throwing my entire plate against the
wall, filled with oozing gravy from mashed potatoes and gravy and
some kind of steak dinner, and I even recall now the vegetable, it
was a pile of Fordham Lima Beans. The hacking is heavy, as this blog
may disrupt the entire universe for a short time. I may just need a
new fucking mouse, so it can always be the more rational explanation.
It seems to go on rolls where it won't respond to clicks. Aniwho, the
fight was over Connie Chung and you don't need to know more about
this rotten whore or something evil that she did in 1978, but my
mother and my ex-pal Jim Burr had both vehemently taken her side
against me, and then this spun around to my dreams about being
manager of this company and how I was traveling city to city and not
liking the situation because it involved lying to the government
about a major 'something' and I have a major aversion about ending up
in federal or any kind of prison. This is when my mom went almost
nuts, telling me I cannot be dreaming this, it is just not possible,
and there was no rationality for her bizarre nutty fucking ass
behavior that seemed to bounce right out of freaking left field. LSS,
she insisted this was as wild as my insisting the lab technician at
the throat specialist office was only 14 years old and disguised to
appear 10 years older, but admitted to me her true age, and that she
knows me from a very large city that is further away than can be
explained. I said, ''mom, I never fucking told you that'', yet she
continued to insist that I had been saying this for months to her.
Then she broke into a powerful angry diatribe over how her coworker
Shirley did me a favor, and I am being difficult, insisting this
other nurse or whatever she really was, had told me this over the
phone, remember all shit was bugged back then. After she had cleaned
up the kitchen mess disaster done at that time intentionally by me in
a fit of total fucking rage; she said, ''Mark, I know how you can
prove me wrong, don't you tape everything, let me hear some of your
tapes, knowing you, you probably had one of those tiny recorders in
your pocket at the doctor's office that day''. I got so angry again,
I remember shoving the dining room table completely over, grabbing a
lamp and throwing it against the wall, shattering it and the light
bulb to pieces. I said I don't skulk around like that, I only have
tapes from the phone, and what I am taping right now of all of this.
She then screamed at me and said, ''what did you tape on the phone''?
I came back with something along the lines of, ''I'll find some
conversations with this 14 year old lab teck and play them for you,
just give me a few days, as all my life-journals are in numerical
tape, as well as chronological, perfect order. The next night she
came back from her job, and she told me Shirley is real mad at me
because I caused trouble at the laboratory. I then was ready to
literally punch my mom's lights out. I calmed myself down, and said
to her, ''shut fucking up and listen to this tape where I tell this
very teck over the phone last year, that my condition has certain
symptoms and how I try to manage and play with doses of various meds
and she eventually gave me driving directions to the place and told
me to be there a week from that day''. Then my mom screamed back
that, ''Shirley said you couldn't of been there that day next week,
the doctor is a personal friend of her father's and they were on some
kind of a convention-vacation somewhere together''. I then threw our
last remaining lamp that was not just there for show and unbroken,
hard, onto the floor, shattering it to pieces, and I screamed that
''she and Shirley are nuts and to go to fucking hell''. When I went
off to my security job that night, and
555555555555-555555555555-555555555-55555555555555-555555555-55555555-compensates
for another fucking JANE WITCHBITCH ATTACK WITH PAGE ELEVEN OF
ELEVEN, as this total fucking whore is on a MONSTER ASS NON
RECORDED ROLL FOR HURTING ME RECENTLY with these fucking ass ones
everywhere, dam ass bitch whore, YO; ANIWHO yo dogs, GETTING
BACK TO THE TOPIC HERE; gear shift grind, gear shift grind; what is
this early October of oh-eight or late fucking October of thirteen,
oh great fuzzy quantum particles of space-time-mind transdimensional
quenergies??????????? So I go off to my job at Petty's Island,
and come home upset after a night of a lot of coworker problems with
real major fucking jerk offs, and the 'shandaleer'
in my mother's bedroom had fallen down and had smashed to pieces all
over the floor. SUCK MY CUNT EATING PRICK MICROSUCKS SPELL CHECKER,
YOU TOTALLY STUPID FUCKING WORTHLESS PIECE OF CRAP; I tried spelling
that word in single quotation marks ten
ways, and nothing worked, you all know what fucking fell down in
early 1985 from my mom's fucking ass bedroom, YO. Even as far back as
this, this was the Washcloth Family's way of letting me know to let
go of this, and to keep my mouth shut. But it DAWNED on me shortly in
the future, that I had included the tape as one of my copyrighted so
called accidental flip sides, using the © Office as a time capsule,
in all of this, to protect me and vindicate me with all this out of
this world shit that just began happening all around me ever since
leaving 1802 Robin hill Apartments of Voorhees, New Jersey, my first
of three times residing in these apartments, to move to the Atco
home, on February 1, 1983, and on that same day, open up the box
containing the Privecode Machine from the IMM Corporation with the
so-called alien-guts inside, as was told to me by a pal of my
ex-business partner, PP, while we all were in a local country bar,
now burned down since that time, along with many other great history
markers. Good old fire, certain things are greater constants than the
speed of fucking light, folks, I will argue that with anyone of you,
now, later, or ever, YO!!!!!!!!!!!! If you think this story stops
here, you are dead wrong. The dream from two weeks ago included some
family members and they told me I was an asshole for not remembering,
that they did not make me forget any of this. This is what was spoken
to me in this wild dream that I did not dare to talk about for fear
of the hell I'd be put through, and that hell came around all over
me, anyway, it seemingly did not fucking matter whether I'd kept my
mouth shut or not, YO!!!!!!!!!!! Then they showed me a photograph of
the medical office and me sitting in the very same light green
colored chair, they were recording it all along, whoever this
washcloth family really is. I thought that I would get a stroke right
in ''the dream''. The lab teck was a very young high school girl, the
great Mariah Carey, only then, she was a girl in a long island
school, and that was it. Still, I know for a fact, that she has other
great disguises tio this very day, one in particular that I have seen
her in, but if I spil.l the beans, I know she'll come over here and
kick the fuckign crap out of me personally, and that we don't need,
so I won';t saymore, other than, I know Resorts Hotel of Atlantic
city knows, they saw it all go down thagt day, in real time, or maybe
that was distant cousin Trump's Plaza, the more I think of it. If my
memories did not fuzz out a bit, I would be totally fucking nuts
after all the shit this entire family and all its extended wild
branches have pulled now for 30-60 years. Maybe you shouldn't have
gotten off that jitney bus that day, at the grammar school on
Richland Avenue in South Atlantic City, Dad!!!
MARK
WAYNE MOHR OF MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3:
WELCOME
TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS.
Anyone
can join, and
the price is FREE.
Here
is a little bio information about the Head-Morian, as requested by
the original blog website that I joined in 2006 to begin my blogs and
the Morianity-Project: MY LINK TO OLD BLOGS IS AS
FOLLOWS:
**********On
Blogger since January 2006
********************Profile
views ----2,877
------ old blog PV: 224
***PAGE
VIEWS ON DECEMBER 2011 NEWEST BLOG—--31,970
COUNTS
ABOVE WERE OBSERVED ON GOOGLE OFFICIALLY AS OF---10/26/2013
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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Gone
with the wind, the winds of war, time travelers from
our future
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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.
NOW
WE HAVE TAKEN A BIG BITE OUT OF MANY FISHY THINGS, YET THE STORY GOES
ON AND ON AND ON. WOW!!
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