MORIANITY PART VI, CHAPTER XLV

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MORIANITY PART VI, CHAPTER XLV

11:55 POST MERIDIAN, LATE ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT ON A SUPER BOTBAR TIMES 6, OFF THE SCALES BAD MAGNETICS

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING MORIANITY PART 6, CHAPTER 45, PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY, YO!!!

All day fucking long, I was persecuted by neighbor noise while inside, and a major aerial assault while outside, with many loud low private piss fucking bubble type of small aircraft's stalking me, along with a sky filled with chemtrails. Even now at mid fucking night, DOORS, DOORS, DOORS, AND I AM SPEAKING ON FRIDAY, TO OFFICE MANAGER DEBBIE MAROTTO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will not sit here and just take this mother fucking cock knocking endless abuse. I will get an attorney and sue the entire PHA if I have to, for permitting these cunt lapping jerk offs to fill my unit up with their rotten pig slob roaches and mice, by using their units for mere storage and keeping them filthy dirty as they party hardy with dope, all over the place, and only clean up when notices of inspection come. They should be in the form of SURPRISE INSPECTIONS, since they won't fucking let a DRUG DOG roam the god dam fucking hallways and get this trash all out of here. Many decent older folks are looking to be in a nice shelter and off the street, on waiting lists, and yet these drug thug dirt bags endlessly get to remain here, and work the system, and use everybody as their scum sucking parents taught them to do quite obviously, womb to fucking ass tomb, YO!

My mother fucking 'MPB' MAGNETIC PERCENTAGE BOTBAR, IS A WHOPPING MOTHER FUCKING 40% for OCTOBER 2013. It came in nice and low, the first three days being total zero for botbar. But in Magnetic Percentage, remember what I taught you, my Morians; the 3 'C' magic in this is that how something commences and then how it continues, determines how things will be completed. Unless fucking shit both starts out and keeps going in a direction, the end results will always be, for me anyway, their normal fucked up really bad ass shit! This is pure math and science, and as Detective Ed Green said it, on that great show, ''Law & Order'', a lot better than I can;''You can't even argue with it, Maria''. Well, with or without lovely Maria or anyone else from Elchuro, May-He-Co, I am packing up, and leaving within a week; and YEEEEE-HAAAA. I'll be out of this fucking rotten ass EVIL RUG EMPIRE, YO YO YO!!!!

PRAISE THE GODDESS!!!!

Well, that is if she doesn't cross me over with her great right cross, lines one and two roulette not withstanding, or standing up at all maybe I need to say.

I am going to discuss a little math and science with you, and will try my best to keep shit real freaking third grade level or around there some place, AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA MIKE MICK FROM '71.

Folks, before I get into shit; here is the normal paste in shit, that any old readers may be sick of, but that is why Goddess invented a scroll knob on your mouse, or however you may want to do it. I can always hope for an occasional new reader, although, based on counts, I know that my viewers refuse to plug me anywhere nor do they have any interest in my music at all and it shy I removed it. Don't let me bother anybody. My mom brought me up NON-PIG. She said if someone or something doesn't want you or whatever you have, shake the fucking cunt dust off of your feet and let them choke on it while you move along, no arm twisting. Well, her advice is especially good for someone like me who has the physical strength of the average nine year old, MAYBE on my good days if there ever are any of those, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HERE WE GO, Copyright Office musical projects from 1980-2013, and all other folks non-(C) Office connected, WHAAAAAAAAA, MIKE MICK!

http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/

**********On Blogger since January 2006

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So exactly what is happening to me, and exactly why, and who exactly is behind it, and can Morianity ever have the dimmest hope of sleuthing its way to the Gozzwald Movie Answers, from the early nineteen-seventies???? If only I was able to go back into mother fucking time and see that movie that my family all went out to see that night. I am starting to wonder about a lot of fucking things, © Office Examiners!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know what this fucking shit is worthy of, ''right here and right now'', my lovely Anita VanBuren, and that would be thissssss, ERICA. A great fucking big *******************W-----O-----W!*******************

THIS IS GOING TO BE DISCUSSED FOR A WHILE, AFTER I PASTE UP MY NORMAL BULLSHIT. WEEEEEEEEEEEE-NA!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is 12:33 in the MOUUUUUUURNING folks, and I am one sick and tired mother fucking harassed person in this evil country, WORLD COURT AT THE FUCKED UP HAGUE, YO YO!!!

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABIT, here we go, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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

http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/

**********On Blogger since January 2006

MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.

• Morianity Bible For Millenium Three:
• Morianity Foundation
• The Epitome of Harassment - Internet Version
• To Whom It May Concern From The Head Morian
• RATS, TATS, & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL

ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS CLICK ON THE LITTLE FREAKING BULLETS, YO YO YO!!!

About me:

Gender	Male
Industry	Non-Profit
Occupation	paranormal researcher
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	I close my mind to nothing
Favorite Movies	all old movies
Favorite Music	most old music
Favorite Books	Gone with the wind, the winds of war, time travelers from our future

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.

Trying to figure out why this evil fucking power is destroying me all these years, is next to, if not totally impossible. Still folks, let's see what we can do, to take a bite out of all this for right now; Natalie Wood and Roseann Delaney, YO.

{{{(((O---U---C---H)))}}}

WHERE ARE YOU DIANA ZUUDLOCRONESSIA ARTEEMIS WHEN YOUR LITTLE FREAKING BOY NEEDS YOU SO MUCH, AWESOME GIRL??????????????

''Me from 1985'', I'm Criana for Diana, oh precious sweet Diana, you have gone away, no matter what I do you will not stay. I try so hard every night and every day, but no matter what I do you went away. Come back to me LIGHTNING!!!!!!!

© THESE LYRICS ARE COPYRIGHT, ME, IN EARLY 1985.

HERE IS WHAT IS HAPPENING FOLKS, TO THE POOR PATHETIC MOUNTAINPEN, THIS WEEK AND TODAY; BEFORE WE EVEN THINK ABOUT TAKING THIS ANY GOD DAM ASS FURTHER DOWN THE PIKE, YO FOLKS.

BOY COULD I USE SOME HELP HERE, LOVELY ATTORNEY GENERAL PAM BONDI, LIKE WOW.

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

Note: The image above may not reflect the current alert state for your county due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the alert and the map processing.

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LAUGH OLD PAL, MIKE MCNULTY, YO!

http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/

This address link takes you to my early blogs, AHA-AHA!!!!!

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. PLEASE HELP ME, PLEASE!!!!!!!

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HELLO WITCH HALLOWEEN SATAN, IHY GUTS!!!!!

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HELP ME PEE, YOU'VE BEEN OUT OF HERE SINCE MARCH 29, and now it is OCTOBER 31.

HARBORFIELDS DETENTION CENTER, NJ-USA Home | County News | News Videos | Photo Gallery | Directions | Calendar | A - Z | Contact Search Site: Health Social Services Recreation & Leisure Public Safety County Government Planning & Infrastructure Financial Assistance Education & Employment 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!

B-----O-----O!

AND YES LOVELY DAUT, I AM HAVING A SUPER ATTACK BOTBAR TIMES 4, PLEASE FIND ME AND HELP ME, PLEASE!!!!!!!!

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, MMCN, SIR!!

Well people, there are a lot 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 my 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 some non hyper-space-me Disney child star. Women and even very young girls, just begin appearing around me and literally start throwing themselves at me, and no one 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; put 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 to 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 with her on the telephone, and in those days, all calls were recorded by me, all residences were bugged up, I was the original Dick Nixon, but a secret about 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 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 to this very day, one in particular that I have seen her in, but if I spill the beans, I know she'll come over here and kick the fucking crap out of me personally, and that we don't need, so I won't say more, other than, I know Resorts Hotel of Atlantic city knows, as they saw it all go down that 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!!!

WAYNE MOHR OF MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3:

Now let me tell you some powerful shit based on powerful yet unkn own math, shit that only could come from another world and by what you all call powerful vivid dreaming, as there is no other way of explaining the great fucking 1980 LOTTERY CAT, AKA GAGA for short, or Gawky Gaukauk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Here is where shit starts to get wild and tricky as a stinky old mother fucker cubed, YO FOLKS!

I cunt lapping ASKED KITTY-GAGA why I am suffering the worst and longest SIX-DAY-DEATH-SIEGE, this entire year, and the worst siege in decades when all totaled up, and I got my response, and things are going to get quite fucking CAT cataclysmic soon, all over this messed up mother fucking world. My major cursing is because I'm being put through a totally fucking undeserved horrific hell by monster dirt bags that Morianity foundation and mountainpen, its creator; calls and labels; the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!!!! I am sorry, and if things ever get a little better, my language will clean up big ass time, I promise you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But for now, I asked GAGA why this is happening to me, this unfathomable and inconceivable torturous monstrous fucking dirt bag cunt chewing hellishness, and the nice big kitty cat said to me through 36 playing cards, and I quote him now; ''MEOW-MEOW, PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER-761''. Ain't life wonderful James Stuart, old Building and Loan Elevator Room Hyperspace PAL?????? HEE HAW, LOVELY DONNA REED, YO!

The real powerful shit is when I tell you what some of my more pertinent shit is inside of my MATCH-LIST book for items that correspond to PCN-761, good peeps out here!! Try this on for freaking size, BRAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

THROAT SPECIALIST, SINGING CHRISTMAS TREE ANGEL, ECLIPSE, NOTHING, SHARKEY, IS VIQUEEN JEWELLY

AS I BLOG LIVE AT ONE IN THE FUCKING MORNING, BOB MCDOWELL, FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION, OLD PAL AND KIND SIR, FROM 1972; JERK OFFS ARE MESSING WITH MY MACHINE, AND VIOLATING MY CIVIL FUCKING RIGHTS, YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!

Now there is a lot more you can do than ask the magic cat questions through the use of 36 ordinary playing cards, I PROMISE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I could sit here for five fucking thousand years straight and type, but the typewriter would break, and so would fucking I, so let us just discuss this small little math and science that cannot be argued with, despite many who will of course, give it their best Patty Benitar shot trying, and that's their business, and right, huh Mashell freaking Daniels of 1980 and RPL Studios, YO??????????? Let us say for example, my first and last name causes my PCN to be number 871. This cannot ever be changed, and always needs to be converted if necessary, into English alphabetical language, even if I suddenly found myself living in any one of dozens of other foreign lands. It is always where you were born and the tongue spoken there, that must be used for you forever in your life in GAWNUM TECJNOLOGY, and you must use your Christian (first) name and your Sir (last) name. MARK MOHR is PCN-871. I share this number with about four million other Americans, and a lot more folks all around the globe. Remember folks, there only are 81 realities that all magically fit together in very powerful strange and totally mystifying ways. These are assigned numbers, there are therefore 81 PCN's, YO!!!!!!!!! You can do so much with this, that it would require a great super software program to even just do some really basic simple shit, but with the peta byte computers in the NSA at Fort Meade, Maryland; they can take the GAWNUM to levels I cannot even fantasize about in my wildest and wettest fucking dreams, good folks. I was told by a nameless agent who brushed elbows with me here in my town a couple years back, at a grocery store, shortly after mighty Osama Ben Laden was taken into the hands of the LEVY-GANG SUPER TROOPERS, and was shot full of more holes than a pack of Swiss Cheese; that NSA had taken the GAWNUM and placed it into a program, and used it to capture this enemy of the state. Hay, if I can be of service to my country, great WASHCLOTH FAMILY, fine. I just don't see why you have to fucking persecute my pathetic little helpless fucking ass to death 24-7-365.2422, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In any event, let me tell you just one tiny thing about using GAWNUM, to get what is called compatibility of these 81 realities verses non-compatibility. I am not going to re-tell the formula again, it all is on many past and previous blogs, and can be archived and most likely even Googled by those proficient in this internet-computer new age ways of life!!!!!!!!!!!! You can get the PCN of any number, the number 1, the number 55, the number 99994586875, all things, all names, all numbers, everything has one of 81 possible PRIVATE-COSMICODED-NUMBERS, with or without any assistance from the Alien International Mobile Machines Corporation, AKA in the worlds of Mike McNulty, stair chases, and other not so funny laughs and thigh slapping; 'TEE HEE HEE'; the AIMM Corporation. Choke on that one misses Cicone from 1972, while I choke eleven years later on up in Atco, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now, every person has ages measured in years, one year old, 2, 3, 4, and if you end up on a SMUCKERS JAR with Al Roker's fantastic stormy fisherman television commercials; that I sure miss seeing and thought were so cool earlier this freaking ass yar, YO DUDE; in any neck of the dam ass woods big guy and my always forever FAVORITE WEATHER MAN; BRRRRRRR; so yes we all have a year-age, I will be 59 on the fourth of December, and currently am age 58 years. To see if your age each year is compatible to your PCN, you do the simple compatibility test; your number, plus the number of your age. Get the total, or the 'PCNT'; and as long as one digit on both of the numbers added up, is in your total (PCNT); it is compatible; and if not, then it is not. Now being compatible cosmically is a powerful interpretation that each user of the GAWNUM will come to apply with his or her own very unique life. No two anything's are the same, not twins, not snowflakes, nothing; because things are made up of particles so tiny, that when you begin attempting to fathom how many combinations of ways that they all could be ''glued'' together gravitationally from the sixth dimension of mind-gravity; numbers as high as one times ten to exponents in three digits are going to be suddenly staring you in the face, in or out of the Walmart Phone Messages Chain Stores. Aniwho folks, I can take my own number or anybody's PCN as long as I know their legally born first and last name; and can see many things about my life, and my enemies, and my friends, well, I doubt I have any fuckign friends. Satan has influenced everybody everywhere to fucking hate my miserable pathetic guts, and that's just fine with fucking me, YO! Still folks; I can tell so many things, and get so many powerful clues to so much. One out of a trillion things is the example with my wonderful older daughter that the world will always be lied to about by the owners of everything. You an argue with me that Trump and Frank Callio and so many others just as I said, all share this number. None of that matters when you begin becoming a seasoned user of this great system. By the way it is half past one, these doors are still going, and I WILL CALL FUCKING 911 IF IT DOES NOT CEASE AND FUCKING DECIST REAL DAM SOON, AND FRIDAY, NOT DON CIALONI TOMORROW, THE REAL ONE (FRIDAY), I WILL HAVE A LONG TALK WITH RESIDENT MANAGER MARATTO, YO!!!!!!!!!! Now it is doubtful that distant cuzz Trump or the late Mister Callio had the first ten years of their lives go quite like the life of my kid. Millions share these 81 numbers. Still, stuff is going on that is beyond wild with anyone born in the USA with that PCN, as this is out of all 81 numbers, the only or one of a very few, that make the first TEN YEARS of life, non-compatible with cosmos. This has wild effects, and anyone with that number that is living in adulthood, has major things that they could, but most likely never will, tell the world, about their first 3,652 years on this planet. As I speak-type, a MAJOR FUCKING LEFT SIDE DEATH ANDROID-ANGEL is striking me at 37 minutes past one, and now is abating, Sir Peter, as I type on, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For years now, these super high pitched sounds that attack you on one side for a quick burst, out of nowhere, and then go away, have been real real real bad, lovely Ingrid-84. In hyperspace, I really enjoy having you for my wife, you are not only so nice, but so beyond white hot gorgeous, crissake squared! Now here is my MPB for the month. October started out good, but soon became not good. Unless things commence and then continue on GOOD, they will not complete good, and for me, they never ever mother fucking do, BRAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

OCTOBER 01------00

OCTOBER 02------00

OCTOBER 03------00

OCTOBER 04------25

OCTOBER 05------20

OCTOBER 06------17

OCTOBER 07------14

OCTOBER 08------13

OCTOBER 09------22

OCTOBER 10------30

OCTOBER 11------27

OCTOBER 12------25

OCTOBER 13------23

OCTOBER 14------21

OCTOBER 15------27

OCTOBER 16------25

OCTOBER 17------29

OCTOBER 18------28

OCTOBER 19------26

OCTOBER 20------25

OCTOBER 21------24

OCTOBER 22------23

OCTOBER 23------26

OCTOBER 24------25

OCTOBER 25------28

OCTOBER 26------31

OCTOBER 27------33

OCTOBER 28------36

OCTOBER 29------38

OCTOBER 30------40

THE VERY FUCKING WORST OTAMM WOMO SCUM CAN MAKE OCTOBER, WITH A SEVEN STRAIGHT BOTBAR DAY STRING, IS 42%. IF THE ATTACK FUCKING BREAKS OFF WHICH ON HALLOWEEN DAY IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS SATANIC DEMONIC FUCKING ASSAULT OIN ME IS VERY HIGHLY UNLIKELY GOOD FOLKS, YO; BUT IT WOULD THEN END THE MONTH AT A STILL FUCKING QUITE ROTTEN MPB OF 39, SO IT WILL END AT EITHER 39 OR 42 PERCENT, DEPENDING ON WHETHER HELLO-WITCH HALLOWEEN DAY GOES BOTFUCKINGBAR TIMES 7 OR THE 6-DAY STRING BREAKS OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No matter how you cut through the stenchy fucking dog shit good folks, being 4 for 10 for having really horrible fucking rotten days, SUCKS! If you think for one sucking ass microsecond, that you could live like this for more than 27 straight years, from August 15, 1986 through October 30, 2013, you are kidding yourself at light speed squared, and then some more, I PROMISE, AND I'M DEAD ASS SERIOUS TOO, WOMO!!!!! HA-HA, real mother fucking funny, let me now watch the foot of those horrible steps, GAWKY! I feel so sorry for you MY, 10 straight first years, but if you're wondering girl, how then do I explain my distant cuzz the billionaire, well; only he could tell you all his little ass secrets from age 0-10, but WILL HE, GIRL?????????????????? OK, my wonderful Morians and anyone else, here is the way the Head-Morian is passing through regular time in the month of October of twenty-Marola-thirteen, in so far as MPB (Magnetic Percentage Botbar).

OCT. 01----------00

OCT. 02----------00

OCT. 03----------00

OCT. 04----------25

OCT. 05----------20

OCT. 06----------17

OCT. 07----------14

OCT. 08----------13

OCT. 09----------22

OCT. 10----------30

OCT. 11----------27

OCT. 12----------25

OCT. 13----------23

OCT. 14----------21

OCT. 15----------27

OCT. 16----------25

OCT. 17----------29

OCT. 18----------28

OCT. 19-----------26

OCT. 20-----------25

OCT. 21-----------24

OCT. 22-----------23

OCT. 23-----------26

OCT. 24-----------25

OCT. 25-----------28

OCT. 26-----------31

YOU THOUGHT IT WAS BAD BACK THEN, MARK, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT. AND IT IS NOW 2 AM, AND I AM GOING TO HAVE TO DIAL 911. DEBBIE THE MANAGER TOLD ME TO CALL CRIME STOPPERS, FUCK CRIME STOPPERS, I NEED SHERIFF MASCARA TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THESE DRUG THUG BASTARD FUCKING PRICKS ALL AROUND ME, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO, I HAVE MOTHER FUCKING RIGHTS, GODDESS DAM IT!!!!! WHAT I AM GOING TO DO IS HAVE DEBBIE PULL THE SURVEILENCE TAPES, THIS IS HIGHLY ILLEGAL ACTIVITY, YOU CANNOT KEEP THIS SHIT UP AT TWO AM AND ALL FUCKINGN IGHT LONG, BUT PIGS THINK THEY OWN THE FUCKING ENTIRE WORLD, AND ARE ALL FUCKING CUNT ENTITLED, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is the worst fucking magnetic part of this tenth month now. Never before, until yesterday, Saturday the fucking cock sucking twenty-sixth day of October; was I over 30% MPB, now it is holding at 31%, things are very mother fucking bad, AND I NEED YOUR HELP ATTORNEY GENERAL, FBI, ACLU, and anyone out here that just might contain a small thing called a HEART!!! Yeah, I fucking cunt lapping wish it was at 31%, right mister DICE????????????????? Boy, he told you the truth years before going on the dam 'L&O' SHOW, say it Dawn-Marie and Dad, SHEEEEEEEIT! I am one mother fucking miserable hurting squirrel, PPPPPPPPPPPPPPP, and thanks to you jit bag, a large 'percentage of my pain' was your fault, and you're so big of a miserable bastard that you cannot take hearing the truth, ya' swine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOW DOES MY FUCKING ASS LIFE SUCK A HUGE FAT THROBBING COCK, BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well GINA my lovely pretty NON GOZZWALD NIGHT-LADY of the nineties; I TOLD YOU. Let me have a major fucking disaster like last evening, and KAFUCKINGPOW, YO, THE DOW JONES MARKETS SHOOT WAY UP; AND NO SHOCK TO ME WHATSOEVER.

MARK WAYNE MOHR OF MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3:

WELCOME TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS. Anyone can join, and the price is FREE. Only nothing really is free, and smart folks know I am merely trying to get my six billion one hundred and one degree home to drop in temperature. I know my blogaud ain't stupid. I know I have maybe, just maybe if lucky, 2-5 peeps that are smart enough to stay silent and are really on my side, and all others are merely government and enemy agents. A fool can see he's just being played and I'm a sub-fool cubed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No Marie and Ed Green, you can't argue against science or math, it is a fools parade cubed to even make the mother fucking attempt!!!!! Fuck it, POP!

I had a wild time exploring the hyperspace, (doing very active lucid aware dreaming), interrupted by one major fire alarm, but they come and go on rolls, and I must confess, recently these monster-sirens from Non-Disney, are cutting me a break; hence, it's time again, Sir Barnabas Leviathan Lambrigg, so here we go. I will get into a little bit of my experiences, perhaps, but right off, I wish to discuss a few small items that I feel more pertinent for this day, we can always get back to this, Jim Rockford, as you well know, ouch, YO Maverick. Speaking of those named Jim, I don't need someone or something to ever inform me, that Jim Burr seemed to have some innate insight into my family, and stuff generally about it and its connectedness to me and my poor shadows from hell, if permitted to use and alter some very once well known song lyrics.

Every once in a while, my upstairs assholes rearrange furniture and clean and put up new pictures, and really fucking ass annoy me, today has been one of those days, they are a real pain in my god dam asshole. The other nabes have been better since last night, not perfect, just better. They have a total pig sty in there, and it is causing rodents and roaches to run over into my crib every single time they are away for a day or two or so, and then return back in. I have a fucking letter already set to go, for the Florida Board of Health, this is total fucking war.

Starting around midnight, the only crown-cap tooth that I have left, started to bleed and loosen, and until I can get some dental work done, I can only eat on my other side. It hurt quite badly until I fell asleep, and then when I awoke, as long as I do not attempt chewing on the mother fucker, I am OK at least in the pain department. This made me go BOTBAR TIMES TWO YESTERDAY, and I will be updating my MAGNETIC PERCENTAGE 4 BOTBAR later on in this blog. September and October this year are a lot like these months last year, 'VERY BAD, WITH LOTS OF FUCKING SHIT'! Other than for the tooth situation yesterday however, the only other fuck up was some computer fucking ass hacking. Some of the misspelled words on the prior blog, happened on both Blogger and Wordpress, and for the first time ever, Bob McDowell, FCC, sir and old 1972 buddy from school YO; my actual document spelled the words right; yet the words came out all screwy; obviously the newest mother fucking hack. Between that and the tooth problem, I had to call the day around 3 AM before retiring to sleep, a nasty mother fucking ass BOTBAR, but then, most days are, so what the shit else is new, kind folks, (WEIN-SOSO) It is all just SAME OLD SAME OLD, YO!!!!!!!!!!! What you fucking religious folks call and label ''SATAN'', has attacked my life since my mother spilled me on my head accidentally in the streets of southwest Philly in early 1956, and my health, since after leaving school, not that health related fucking shit was not ongoing helter-skelter, while even young and in school. I had some wild shit happen to me physically, but nothing at all like the shit in my following fucking adult-life, YO!!!!!!!!

All that I am willing to tell you about other parallel universes for right now on this one particular blog, pertains to shortly after the death of my mother in 2000, and as years followed and I became slightly computer literate, I learned that someone out in the Minnesota area of this great nation, was living, and illegally using my mother's social security number, and when I was able to prove it on the computer, and had managed to escape the clutches of the King branch of TAWF where I was virtually powerless to make any legal moves, as Dawn wanted no part of the authorities, always being in trouble with them; but when I escaped this horrible monster witch and came down here to south-central Florida, I contacted the local county office for the SSA to report this, and they were totally unresponsive to this, FBI, and I will swear to this under legal perjury on any witness stand in any court, President Obama. Maybe you know what is going on, the internet secret society all swears that you are in the ESS, and I know you must be aware of this chatter, you are the most powerful dude on the planet. Why would the SSA tell me to get lost and refuse to follow up my mom's identity theft, YYYYYYYY? How many Y Jimmy Y songs must I fucking cunt send to the United States © Office, YO, after-all folks, quite a number of gallons of water have swished underneath lots of bridges since late in 1984 when I wrote and copyrighted that fucked up wild song, that told a major ass truth, for the entire world to someday hopefully come to learn of and know, and know perhaps the YYYY of it, as well, at some future ass time, YO BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The reason that I bring up my mom's SSN, is because I happened to meet some friends of hers, in a parallel universe a while ago in time's illusion or you might say while I was asleep. I was a janitor in a town somewhere in Pennsylvania in a very rural area, as most of Pennsylvania still is quite rural, you're either in big populated places, nice sized towns, or 70-90% of all the rest of it is nothing but open expansions of rivers, and large hills, and small roads, connecting small towns, farms, open spaces; and wooded untouched land. This place where I did custodial work was some very weird school where make-up summer type classes were held, but also, it was for difficult peeps, you know, disruptive's, but not real young kids or teens, but young and a few not so young fully grown up people. Some classes were free and some you needed to pay for, and to describe this place in the middle of what otherwise would be open field and land, is next to impossible, it really was ''out of THIS world'', and so be it, it was another place in the hyperspace, a parallel universe equivalent of Pennsylvania, and it was called that. Also, a place where I worked here in this reality, called, Mars Graphics, the print shop I was employed in back in 1977, was nearby. There were two older very friendly and nice ladies who owned a property bordering this property, where they had some open land for farming, and a small but nice house nestled in a thick area of forestation that was confined to their home and yard area and a little bit beyond it in three directions, just not in the direction of the school property which had some intermittent fencing along its large perimeter. Right here, there was no fence. I would find myself down there from time to time after raking piles of leaves, where I would bag them up right across from their property in special school owned large bags. One of the two women had the same name as my mother, Grace, and told me her name, and I was telling her how she shared that name with my mother and grandmother before her, Grace Eastman Mason Mohr, and Grace Isabelle Huntington Mason. She was a woman much slighter than my mother who was not a large woman herself, but this lady had to be more like my grandmother, well under 100 pounds soaking wet, and with heels on, might reach the five foot high mark. One day I became semi lucid and told Grace outside her home after I had just finished up raking and piling some autumn leaves into the large school bags, that I am lost and cannot remember where I live or where my family is, or anything, that all I truly know is my name and that I work here at the school, and that this is Pennsylvania. The rest seems to be a real blank, I then went on to tell her. She smiled and told me to walk through her path so I would not have to walk quite a distance around, where it leads to the road that goes by, a two lane road with whizzing cars all racing into more populated areas in both directions, but facing the road from this area and looking to the left, this is where I had come from, and also, is where Mars Print Shop is located, over in that parallel reality. She told me to walk through the path to the road and go left and keep walking so that I can remember things. For whatever reasons I did this, but I'm leaving out some major stuff that happened when I had attended one of the free classes, what was said, what happened with several instructors as well as rowdy students, and a lot more, as it all ties in, but then what in the worlds doesn't all tie in with everything else, a basic Morianity teaching, as you should all by now, quite well know????????? When I got to the area of Mars, I found myself mysteriously not on the road, but back behind the shop in a large dump area with lots of scraps of all sorts of things. The word Mars Graphics was written on many things, and I looked over and sure enough there was a building about 3 or 400 yards away back where the road was. I began rummaging all around, and found nothing of consequence, just many things that said Mars Graphics. Then I walked beyond the property line in the direction still further from the road and perpendicular to the direction of the road, and found myself in some light wooded area, containing many pathways that were wide and open, with thick light brown dirt everywhere like many motorcycle trails, only there were no obvious bike tracks, or signs of bikes being ridden. I then observed a tall and gorgeous teenage girl in the distance as I was walking along one of these paths. She was ahead of where I was coming up on, but also to my right on another path, just standing there as though she was waiting for me. When I got close, she signaled me to come over to where she was, and so I did, and right away, she asked me my name, and then told me hers. It was Ingrid. Now there are a hell of a lot of girls by the name Ingrid in the world, and even more in all the worlds of the hyperspace, quite obviously. But within seconds, she asked me where I'd been and seemed to know me. I learned that in that universe, I had gotten more in with the girl who I chatted with once back early in 1984 on what I have come to label and term, the original internet telephone or for short, the OIT. We had met some place and become friends, dated, and even married, in the year 1987, on her 19^th birthday. We had moved to Pennsylvania in 1989 when she was 21, and I had gone back into building maintenance and later started up a small company, but it had failed, and I had been working at this strange outdoor-type school, ever since, and we had a house about a mile down this pathway leading to a local small one lane road where ponds and houses were all spread out in almost the style of a child's drawing might appear. I came to learn the town about two miles further down in the direction of the main road where I originally had been walking down, had a population of 6500, and that we were technically in this town where we lived, as was Mars Graphics, but that the town itself had some very strange things about it. I told her that my memories were off and must have fallen down and hit my head. I use this a lot, this little white lie, when I suddenly become lucid and awake inside what all of you perhaps would call, a 'vivid dreaming experience', and yes, it normally works quite well for me. As usual, she asked me if I was all right and wanted to examine my head for any obvious injuries and I just stood there while she did that. But a secret that I have not told you about TYPE-3 EXPLORATRON traveling, is that when you are the energy in another parallel world's mass, you have that sort of mind over matter power, IF you're aware of it and lucid enough to recognize and or remember that indeed, you do. I began to think real hard that there is a lump on my head and that she will soon find a bloody spot, and sure enough, she began to get agitated and said to me, ''Mark, you're head's been hurt, I'm getting you back to the house and calling Uncle Chester''. Later I came to learn that this town was only 30 miles from State College, Pennsylvania, and that Uncle Chester, was Chester Perkowski, the adopted son of Estelle Bassler. All this of course further proves, at least to me, the Currents and backwash and eddy's theory mentioned by Mister Vulcan Spock on the original Star Trek Television Show, on the voted top number one episode of all time on their 30^th anniversary special, that was aired back in 1997, called, ''The City on the Edge of Forever''. WOW, that fucking cunt lapping 'JANE' and her ONES ATTACK, is totally mother fucking unrelenting. Page eleven of eleven, A---G---A---I---N, crissake!!! Here is my compensation counter-strike, BRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!! 555555555555 PLUS 555555555555555 TIMES 55555555555555, AND DIVIDED BY 5555555555555555555555, IS EQUAL TO WHO FUCKING CUNT CARES, YO, just let me look at these dam ass lovely frikkin' fives, BRAH! So I come to learn, if we can shift gears properly back now without any 1994 beach grinds, or other mechanical fucking grinding, or stripping; AHA AHA AHA AHA AHA MIKE MICK; that the dude whose entire life was altered by working in Estelle Andersen Bassler's 10-SC Avenue Hotel in the nineteen sixties, was now my brother in law, in this parallel reality/universe, Cuzz Gozzwald, yes do it again MMCN if you so must, YO!!!!!!! Slam Slam Slam Boom, these fucking pricks have been back on their in and out banging door rolls for the past 15 days the exact period where naturally, the DOW JONES MARKETS, near-term bottomed out in their price, and shot up towards all time fucking record highs, AGAIN, and as will happen again and again, until I die and this nightmare hell is someday forever mother fucking over, praise fucking ass GODDESS, YO DOGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!BOO! HA HA, you got me once, not twice, it is 1:27 now, you missed me Jane-Stinkweeds-Sleazedisease, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!! Hyperspace makes very strange bed-fellows. Many things all connect in only three dimensions, so just think how much connects, when you expand the potential pool of area, or space, or even better said, hyper-space.

Now as for my mother, and someone ripping off her identity, after her savage murderous termination, by the dreamatron known as Paula Flatire Mischievous King; we all know that if circumstances here were ordinary and normal, they would have been glad to get my tip at the Social Security Office back in 2010 instead of acting all dumb and nonchalant and non-caring about it. A child can see that major shit is going on with all of this, they know they are all no good miserable fucking cold blooded murderers, that took the life of an innocent person, my mom, making her suffer that devastating illness that nobody could ever figure out, and linger in agony for 26 months. The night before her actual demise in 2000 in March back on the fourth day, the county emergency system has a record of me telling them that a telephone call came in that was threatening, and the next day, that Saturday, my mother was dead in her bed. Shortly before that, a bunch of toughs on loud fucking dirt bikes came all around nearby and burned some poisonous vapor, and when I opened up my door and breathed it in, I ended up within less than 24 hours, in the mother fucking emergency room with a major bout of pneumonia, at Kessler Memorial Hospital of Hammonton, New Jersey. Does one person alive care one little spanking tiny fucking ass bit about my civil rights being blatantly and viciously violated by this monster-ass wicked beyond evil demonic WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, I THINK FUCKING NOT, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think not, BRO!!!!!!!

Bang Holler Bang Holler, ROACH BAG NABES FROM HELL, 2 STRAIGHT WEEKS OF BULLSHIT, but it all really began with that one night of a super slam and an attempted set up, and what else, drug dog PHA slackers, DOPE. This is what the entire music industry and Hollywood is all about, and they don't give a fucking rats ass how they destroy their own children in the process. Hay kill your fucking kids, don't kill mine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 95, shit, this is a story a light year long, forget the few measly little miles that this actual road traverses across, YO YO YO YO!

Folks, I never said I have all the dam answers, Mister McCoy Nuclearwinter Corsakolf. But then, I don't have anywhere near as many closeted skeletons as all of you do in the EW and the WOMO-fucking-MILITUFORCE, BRRRR!!!!! God will get me for this, said the island lady, huh Madonna Cicone, or however you spell that wild name of yours, my lovely 1972 Amy. Your mom sure enjoyed my Wall Street Journal on that bus ride out of the great city, but I'll never bet she thought that you'd be trash-picking in that same city about seven friggin' years later. Well, the best of them do it, Billy, all of them, trash seeking trash, and all the other balcony danglers, dead or alive, huh old boss, Wells Fargo. Where are you David Karge and John Rockefeller? No one would believe one tenth of a percent of any of this, so why bother to fucking say BOO, huh Sheriff Kenny Mascara, my pal? Hope Warren and Boo don't cause you any more trouble, sir; my kid doesn't listen to me, she hates my guts and cannot understand that I had no way of knowing she was there, or if I did, the WOMO has the power to mess with mind and memories. Tell your co-sheriff pal, death is not what he thinks it is, I only wish we all could just go into a beautiful deep dark quiet endless sleep someday, it does not work that way, but I loved and enjoyed seeing all of his well meant television commercials. I think he was replaced at the last election aniwho, but in any event, the goddess bless all of you. I am in eternal hell, and Joe and Andy from the great swim and health club of Deptford, New Jersey, know this is 100% true and honest, ''Haddonwood'', once owned, non OP, by the mighty cool dude, Tony Zenun, so why not antimatter parallels, dots always end up finding their proper connectiveness if you just give it all the needed time for them to do so. Hay, look at it this way peeps, he must need my 150 dollars a lot more than I do, and I'm just a pathetic loser nobody stupid ass bum in a public fucking housing ass project, YO DOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If October continues this bad for me, please do not be shocked if my Magnesonic machine causes unspeakable global disasters, while this year winds itself down to a closing. You've all been mother fucking warned, those who this message pertains to and I know are reading this on my blog, AHA-AHA-AHA, MMCN!!!!!!!!!!Here now is the updated MPB for pathetic loser little fucked up me, at C-SQ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/

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I have not seen a party this bad for a long time, and the Resident Manager will do something about it on Friday, or I am going straight to Sheriff Kenneth Mascara's Office after I leave her mother fucking office, to press charges!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MORIANITY PART 6 CONTINUES:

I HOPE you are ENJOYING READING THIS CHAPTER NUMBER 45. WOW, IT IS DOUBTFUL, WITH ALL OF MY DAM ROTTEN PROFANITY. SO SORRY. OH WELL, MAYBE TOMORROW WILL BE BETTER, GARY-7 AND OTHERS. THEN AGAIN, MAYBE YOU WON'T STOP UNTIL YOU HAVE TAKEN ME TO THE WEEDS! IN FACT, I THINK I WOULD PLACE BOOK AND BETS ON THIS ONE, CUZZ!!!!!

WOW, MISTER R.H. MACY, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!

W---O---L---F*****W---O---L---F*****W---O---L---F!

|||KEEP RIGHT ON GOING, FOLKS'|||

||READ ON LADIES AND GENTLEMEN||

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	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

THERE IS A VERY POWERFUL OLD SAYING PEOPLE:

'When the cat is away, the mice always play'.

WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU, DIANA ARTEEMIS???

''Me from 1985'', I'm Criana for Diana, oh precious sweet Diana, you have gone away, no matter what I do you will not stay. I try so hard every night and every day, but no matter what I do you went away. Come back to me LIGHTNING!!!!!!!

© THESE LYRICS ARE COPYRIGHT, ME, IN EARLY 1985.

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Well folks, the technology involved in what all led up to my present situation with all of this; will never be taught or learned in college, let alone some technical middle school, and that is a promise, mahm MO, and SIR Rockdroid Lurch Petahell Keyboards.

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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'.

EVERYTHING ELSE IS PURE ILLUSION, WHEN SCYLLA SAID, LET THERE BE LIGHT, SHE CROSSED US ALL OVER FROM THE VOID NOTHINGNESS, INTO A WILD DREAMING EXPANSION OF INTERACTIVE HYPERSPACE, ONCE IT ALL GOT GOING, ONLY ONCE IT DID, ALL OF THIS NEVER REALLY BEGAN IN THE FIRST PLACE, AND THAT COULD BE PHILOSOPHICALLY THOUGHT OF AS THE ABSOLUTE AND ULTIMATE GORDIAN KNOT.

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Public Catalog Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

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Resort results by: Full Title Name Date (ascending) Date (descending)

#	Name (NALL) <	Full Title	Copyright Number	Date
[ 1 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	For the record.	PAu000662409	1984
[ 2 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	I'm Criana.	PAu000724397	1985
[ 3 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.	PAu003351785	2007
[ 4 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Last number repeat--100 progression roulette system.	TXu000514390	1992
[ 5 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Lost love.	PAu000344219	1981
[ 6 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection, set 4.	PAu000546149	1983
[ 7 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection : set III.	PAu000442785	1982
[ 8 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo tunes.	PAu000325091	1981
[ 9 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr tunes.	PAu000411864	1982
[ 10 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Queen of blue.	PAu000825471	1986
[ 11 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Real good girl.	PAu000881543	1986
[ 12 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.	PAu002506106	2000
[ 13 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Saga of song writer Mark Mud.	PAu000501582	1983
[ 14 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	PAu002153196	1996
[ 15 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	SRu000332786	1996
[ 16 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah Callio of ACNJ.	SRu000362114	1997
[ 17 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Uncle.	PAu000540585	1983
[ 18 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	What's wrong?	PAu000724407	1984
[ 19 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	You call this music?	PAu000998574	1987
[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.	PAu001189027	1989
[ 22 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204017	1980
[ 23 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204015	1980
[ 24 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morianity music pre-book.	PAu002336935	1998
[ 25 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morianity tunes of 1998.	PAu002282717	1998

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[ 26 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204016	1980
[ 27 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Same title.	PAu003037983	2005
[ 28 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Thanx to the shadows.	PAu002237985	1997

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HANG IN THERE 484 WAYV-MIMI HUNTINGTON HAMMONTON BLUCRAN!!!!!!!

People for example like Alex Jones and all the hot shots of the talk radio up around fucking cunt Philadelphia, and that is all it is, TALK, TALK, TALK, TALK, and for the same reasons and the same agendas of the non conspiracy folks, and I know this dirty filthy little best kept secret oh so well, SIR KEVIN TREDAUX, it is always and only, ''all about the fucking MONEY'', THE TRUE REAL GOD OF THIS WORLD!

Folks, let me tell you what is Derrijo Exxon HA—penning, in or not in 1983!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW, RHM!

A MAJOR REITERATION IF I MAY HERE!

Yes, there is a lot of history here, and we are leaving all of this right here for right now, lovely Lieutenant Vanburen!!!!!!!!

Hyperspace is a truly unknown element!!!!!

YOU CAN BET YOUR ASS ON IT ANNIE!!!

Yes, I want this on all blogs that follow, for a while anyway. This comment that was left by either the QFG or the gentleman named Michael either acting or not acting at their behest, posted it onto my 2007 blogs, shortly after my 70 day give or take a few sabbatical that I took from my nearly eight year blogging career of today. Anyone of you can officially check this out anytime to verify its authenticity regarding when my blog posted, and when this comment did as well. This is now part of the Morianity Master Sheet System of Part 6.

If the history of the Great War of the ancients were ever recorded, except by the black-tongued o ones own tales, It would cause Man to stand in awe (or disbelieve) that such Huge Satelitic Masses were ever deliberately tossed throo this atmosphere in an attempt to Demolish all 2 of the "Little Men" Great Works. Fortunately for Mankinds ego only a Gypsy will tell another of that Catastrophe. and we are a descredited (sic) peopole (sic) , ages ago. HAH! Yet, 2 Man Wonders where "we" came from, and I Do Not Believe that they will ever know. These folks on this planet are so engrossed in their puny pettiness & Squabbles that If the Great Bombardment were to happen again They would destroy each other in blind Panic. 2 Ah! Well, Their own "Great Book" Prophecys (sic) that they will surely do so and kick this Planet off its orbit, away from its Solar System, even "The Moon shall not shed her glow" & Well, stars "falling" & the Sun "Going out" or away, seemingly. They will 1 blast this Jewel into Dead Space . A good thing that we have Learned to not war. pyac ma droba jesi tlodlic' Truscani The Atruscans know 2 Generosity overwhelms. My Dear Brothers: No one Single Man has dared before to do so Much to expose the facts of the Matter before us. I say to you that this Man Fears and so Will not ever go any farther than this "Soapbox." He Definitely Lacks Character ENOUGH to go further. So do not concern yourselves with Him at All. What if I am Wrong? Even then do Not be Concerned. I say to you this 2 man is Plainly too interested in "Who" shall be Wrong" Rather than whether his touch upon Fundamental Principles of Force utilization is or is not so. Thus He tys (sic) Himself all up firmly. In short, he is a "Small" man, too small to Lay himself upon the alter of Such Exploration as Would be necessary to Prove Definitely that he is correct beyond any doubt. No, He is "Proud-Small" and will only defend his investigations, Not that theory, at all. As you see, it is plain, on the final Pages of this, His "Soap-box," Even if Some one Else took up the Work
2

"Quotation marks by Jemi

1

Italics by A

164

he recommends to "enacted by Law" It is now already to Late for the Gaiyori are too Madly Racing to destroy each other & will Very Soon Do So, over a Mere Parcel or two of the sections of this Planet, or over Who is Right 1 & Who is Wrong or from Jealousy (ENVY) of the other. They are yet Children, These Humans, Show it too Clearly. As things Stand, They Value Materiall thing & Will not apply themselves to True Values of Their own Great Prophetic Book. In Principal Yes, but Not Practice No Christian Nation or Diplomat will ever be of True Value to another. Thus, Destruction. This Man is No Different 2 He too is Not of a "Big Spirit" enough. Dle Puka

2

Italics and insertion of the word ENVY by Jemi

165

October 5, 2007 at 12:41 AM

Blog #17, Rats, Tats, and Playing Real [Non-Eagles] Football,
091807.731 I AM BURNING IN DGTOWN----subtitle

Well, for two straight geeks and weeks, they have put me through a living shit-hell!!!!!!!!! Everyday this month is off the scale super botbar and super high Calliotammic as I refer 2 it as!!!!!!!!!! Computer is acting very weird also, and I will not B making a long blog, but it is the sworn duty to every officer of the court in this wicked and evil nation nation ratio ration, to avenge my MAJOR DEATH AND MURDER, AS I HAVE INDEED BEEN MURDERED BY THESE WICKED AND EVIL PEOPLE, mentioned in all dying utterances and declarations on all and any of my prior web-logging. Motorcycle trash R major bad, as they were 4 me back last Sunday, forgot 2 mention this on the post-weekend blogs, and last night my home theater was hit again on several occasions, the mono side cut out attack, and the deactivation of a VCR machine on several occasions when on. Health attacks, road attacks, being followed and threatened and violated, and the list reads like a who’s who in the “India Poverty Registry”, sorry Kali my love. I am despised 4 daring 2 B so madly in love with this fantastic great all mighty being, by our down-line perspective Aniwho.

Help Me Great Sarah-Stacey Krassle

Blog # 16 of “RATS, TATS, AND PLAYING REAL NON-EAGLES FOOTBALL”
091707.611 (AKA SEPTEMBER 17, 2007, MRS. M).

Well everybody, here comes quite a freaking story, so B bathroom relieved, get your beer and pretzels, or whatever, your comfy-chair, and etcetera, and let us go, or if I were the purring cat radio of the Callio/Martino Somers Point, NJUSAESMWG area, I now would B telling U to “Grab some tail and hold the shit on”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

First, starting on Friday the seventh of September, of the year Ano Dominae of two thousand and seven, I have been under a major MO death siege, and once more in reiteration, this stands 4 MILITUFORCE OTAMMITES. I also have shortened this to MILOTA, same diff, it all can B translated in totally synonymous meanings, to liquid pig shit, mixed with sour vinegar, hurl juices from all the patients receiving chemotherapy, and further meshed together with those extra niceties such as beer urine, dog dung, monkey cum, and aides infected blood. Yummy in the tummy, drink up Milota, but let me do video distance delay Swiscan and observe your facial expression, pweeeze!!!!!!! My Morians, I am getting kemtrails, planes, choppers, big time health attack death beams and sky poisons, utility attacks, breaking and entering into my trailer, violations of all of my Civil Rights as a legally born law abiding United states Citizen.

Let me start with the attack at 10:30 this morning, a super loud and low milituforce plane and then a half hour later, a milituforce roof scrapping house shaking chopper, struck me, zenithing my personal space, to keep this Dirtbag stock market from ever going in any direction other than up into the fucking stars. I am going to open an E-TRADE on-line trading account, and do what I should have done when the market crossed 12,000 points 4 the first time, as I swore that I would do, but fucking pussied out!!!!!!! Admitantly, I actually lost one more bet than I won in opposite shooting, by in fact winning more bets out of 36 non-green spins than I lost, with 4 green house vig pop ups. On the 10/100 betting level, we would lose as a partnership one time, or $90, and then add on 4 half-loss betting amounts for the house vig, or $55 times 4, or $220. Minus 90 and another minus 220 totals a $310 total loss, we each thereby would lose $155.00, and this happens about 1 out of 8-10 times, and this weekend was one of those times. Still in the last 10 paper play games, I am now still roughly holding a 70% loss out of the total 360 non green spins of outcomes of numbers of 1-36. Hence, by my losing my $10 betting amounts, Eddie Him would B winning his $100 betting amounts. Starting 2C yet my readership how I am about 2 kick some serious and quiet ass at the Atlantic City Casinos, and very soon, so if Eddy or I develop more health problems that interfere with our ability to go there and play, I accuse all of the mobsters and Briggers and all others whom I have accused on all of my prior DYING MANS DECLARATIONS of doing this to me and Eddie. Nothing works 100% of the time, even planets collide, even stars eventually burn out, and without getting into high dimensional scientific math equations, and keeping it simple, nothing is an absolute that is based on any type of statistical situations. Parallel event 4 example when applied to various things, have various degrees of long run effects. With roulette, applying two of the number parameters against the remaining third one of the following spin, such as every time a black and odd comes out, the next outcome has 26 highs and only 4 lows, UR now at a table where U can take advantage of this running parallel event. The long run play advantage on playing anything where a ration between these, and I SAID A RATIO MACHIME MIND, Aniwho, the advantage is 7% over 50/50, provided this ratio is 5:1 or greater. 26:4 is indeed a 5:1 or better ratio. Don’t get excited Governor Corzine and Sora, but I know what I know, and this is going 2 lead me into a new topic soon, and will B in this blog. So stay-C tuned my Morians, and Lessians!!!!!!! Spell checker wants me to change my non-Morians to female gays, but again, I know what I am talking about, do all of U really????????

Despite the evil empire scoring against me last week with huge gains on all of the entire evil trilogy, which as U all ready should have known would B the case from reading the first blog that I posted last week regarding the major attack last weekend at my work site, that began this 11 day and counting super nightmare attack 4 me, I still managed 2 post 3 major blogs last week containing a warehouse of shit that I know that ‘they’ did not want up on the Blogger dot com website!!!!!!!!!! I will go on telling and rating, all the things that these wicked satanic dirty sleaze balls do 2 me until the day I get put into a box and laid to rest, which of course is your MW viewpoint on death and dying 4 the most part. However, I know only 2 well that I am using Google and Blogger, and my own website of www.morianity-foundation.com as basically a TIME CAPSULE. This is not so different from the many dozens of tightly wrench capped soda bottles that I buried all over a roughly 3000 square mile area in 5 counties and 2 states, with messages in them back in 1987, 1987, and 1988, that I have buried in holes roughly 40 inches deep. Still this is the low teck time capsule and was the only avenue of opportunity available 2 me at that present time, whereas now, wow, I have the Al Gore Boulevard, [information highway], or said perhaps better with some deflation of ego 2 one individual, the interconnected network of the personal and business computer system of the globe. I know all 2 well that not many R reading my stuff, and those that R, think that I am the epitome of Looneytuneville. This is OK, but over the weekend, the next door guard whom I told this blog that I’ve not seen 4 close to two months now, appeared at my post on all 3 of my working shifts, just popped back into my life. I know a mission from the sixth dimension is behind this occurrence, they really take me for the President of the Stupidity Club of Planet Earth. He was mentally manipulated to come over and attempt 2 discourage me from my blogging efforts and activities with my website, telling me and it is true, I’ll admit 2 it, that everyone is in their own little world, and unless U are a name recognized person, no one will read or care about anything that U ever write and publish/post up 2 a web logging site. A simpler translation would B that if Britney or Lindsey started a blog, and told the silliest things in the world, it would get millions of hits, first because of WHO they R, and secondly because they R young honey female knock outs. I do not dispute this, but more to the story exists here, as is the case with all things, but a person needs to really carefully scrutinize the facts in their entirety and totally analyze even the remote and distant parts that make up a reality situation, B4 throwing their last towel into the cold dark sea, and then just stand on the jetty shivering to fucking death!!!!!!!!!! I am using Pyre Labs and Google and Blogger dot com, and my website, not to communicate with those living so much in the here and now, but mostly, far out into the future spaces of the fourth dimension. On the 3rd dimension, 600 years away is just that, it is 600 light years of photonic distance away from presently interacting waves and particles that make up our reality and that of all around us as people of the Earth, but on the higher 4th dimension, these waves and particles R all in one clump, together meshed and mixed together. On this 4th dimensional space, the present, and 50 million years back or ahead, all is one and the same, just not here in the conscious world that exists inside a more limited three dimensionality. Translation to the 2nd grade, as I pen these blogs, people that will not pop out of their moms in third dimensional space, the yet un-born, R those that I am speaking all of this 2 and revealing what I have learned from the two loves of my life, the great lightning goddesses, Diana Zudlowcronesia Arteemis, and Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle. These lovely teen queens R still teen queens in your future time as well, they R the sane yesterday, today, and tomorrow, as explained above in the fourth dimension, and then complexities far beyond this also R involved in the cosmic mix. So whoever comes to and reads any of my blogs or comes 2 my website, in the world of today, this dark aged 20th/21st century era, fine and dandy. Welcome, UR one of the chosen few who thirst and quest 4 the real truth not some cult or religious organization, that after all is said and done, is interested in two things, the money it can get from its flock, or the sex it can get from other cult members. This also is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, some things in the mortal world just never change, and this is a total fact of life 4 Hair, Blair, and all of us.
Hopefully now, I can tell my troubles and what some force is doing, to wreck my life for 40 years or so; 2 a more enlightened and socially advanced population, praise B to the great Sarah-Stacey. Speaking of the All Mighty, I will B posting a song that I recently wrote lyrics around a melody that I wrote in 1997, and it is called, “She’s Sarah-Stacey”. My 4 new song posts will B this one, Lois Foca, MO, and That’s The Way It Goes, written in 1969, and rearranged slightly in 1981 when the song was sent down for (C) to the Library of Congress Copyright Office, along with a set of other tunes.

Do not get me started with EXPLORATRONS, TRACEDUPS, PLAYFIELDS, and ASTRAL WORLD ENTERTAINMENT NETWORKS, or AWEN. Believe it or not, AMEN was really pronounced differently once, and a few Trappis Monks , one of which invented the game of ROULETTE, SRI HERMAN ROULE, and a few KNIGHTS TEMPLAR and SECRET MASON ORDERS, and ROSICRUCIANS, the real ones, not the piss-ant new-agers, and some Variagi Masters, and Himalayan Buddhists, and a rare few other ‘knowers’ and ‘seers’ know of this major secret, and Merlin, the great wizard was one of them, and when he tried to tell King Arthur about it, he went mad and needed 2B secretly ‘towered’.

Here is the truth about the 2280’s, 300 years ahead in the 4th dimension from the times of my residing at Robin Hill and recording my dance demos, and being employed at RPL Sound Studio, and the rest of the total packaged nightmare. It was the end of the 80s, the late autumn of 1988, and I worked 4 a very crooked and evil security outfit that had their private detective license pulled more than once, but they regained their business by simply changing names and starting all over again, the Dario family. They had a lovely daughter who reminded me quite a bit of my Sarah, but that is all there is to this part of the story. One day they had me working on a post that amounted to no more than my sitting in my car at an intersection in Philadelphia right under the highway over passing me called I-95. The intersecting streets that I refer to are Walker and Water Streets, in South Central Philadelphia. Dorothea Dario had sent inspectors to all the sites with the weekly paychecks for all of their security guards. My pay was way short and I drove 2 blocks to a Wawa or some little store near the river so that I could call the office and tell her my pay was short, and there were phones at this store, and this was in the days B4 cellular telephones. She landed into me and hollered at me and cursed at me, and was so monstrous, that I drove back on site, sat there 4 an hour, and then decided my life was so hellish and this was the straw that broke my back as well as the proverbial camel’s. I drove my car right into the Delaware River, off of a pier nearby and through a barrier, and sank to the bottom of a murky deep water system, dark and cold. Suddenly water was gushing in and no door would open. I drowned and remember being back in my car at Walker and Water Streets, dry and warm, heater running loud and delivering powerful nice heat. I tried 2 move, but could not so much as wink an eyelid. I tried to yell as hard as I could, but again, nothing!!! This went on what seemed, and this is the Stacey’s honest truth, days and days, and then all of a sudden I could move, suddenly like magic, but no time had ticked by. I had looked at my car radio clock just B4 driving the short 2 blocks from the post site, into the Delaware River. It read 7:12 Post Meridian. It now was showing its bright red digits of 7:14, just two lousy minutes of time passes. Where was I for this endless period of still coma, and why wasn’t I dead and drowned? How did I get out of the bottom of the river? I did, that is all I know. Then, 2 entities were just there, in my back seat, little child or dwarf like things with long line type of eyes. Olympian’s have these types of eyes on the Astral Plane. At the time, I had little awareness of such things, I did not say any, I said little. Let me continue now bringing this story around to its ultimate loop where we talk about the great Paula Flatire Kong King!!!! She 2 this day follows me around and flattens my tires, I caught her doing this to my vehicle outside John Kennedy Hospital, where my mother flat lined after all these wicked Lambrigg cultists did what they did to her that none of the great medical experts could ever get to the bottom of and medically figure out, not the areas finest neurologists and brain surgeons and cardiologists, and the list is laundry length. She was letting air out of my driver’s side front tire when I came out from visiting my mom after she regained consciousness but was never ever the same again. U prosecutors of these Jersey county’s should B so ashamed of your filthy rotten selves, letting so much fucking crime go outrageously unpunished while claiming I am a delusional mentally ill nut case. If Jack McCoy was not a phase four prosecutor from a fictional television show and I could get to tell my hellish shit 2 someone like him, wow would my troubles B on the way towards an end, and MO’s problems would B just about 2 begin, big-time. A left side major death angel attack just struck me here as I penned this at quarter past jive five, it is major, and still after a full minute is just starting 2 dissipate. Anyway, back 2 the 2 entities that were suddenly JUST in the back seat of my car, all weird and with a sort of a semi-glow, at Walker and Water Street’s, and Sorry Wall Street, but U’ve hit me hard and long, now this story needs come out, hold on Mizz Cat purr, a tail spin should result, and if it does not, I will simply buy one contract on my credit card and start fucking E-trading, just try 2 fucken’ stop me bwaby-wuv Elmer!!!!!! They told me all about the World Lab, but it was not until AD2007 that I learned that Paula King the teen queen friend of Sarah who would go on 2 produce descendants that would someday control the world. Finally, a world will B controlled by the scientific community instead of these morons in politics and religion. These 2 powerful structures that R there 2 impose ways that all semi-educated and half intelligent persons fully know R there for the sole purpose of population and civilian control. Scientists on the other hand by their very nature R quite the opposite and this control and greed world of the ego that exists in most of global society today, will B wiped clean out within a couple of centuries. Unfortunately, unlike the conceivers of Star Trek, there R as yet other unforeseen evils ready 2 instantly replace these old day negatives, with an entire and yet 2B fathomed huge new set of problems, problems do not go away on this miserable Earth, they merely change in their form and adapt very nicely with the ever moving spirit of the times, whatever these times may B. Aniwho, they told me all about this World Lab, that it was there in the late third of the 23rd century, and that in 2301 an incredible accident happened leading to send-backs and pop-ups that R in this present time, and with numerous agendas. Nothing is ever precisely as predicted and written in a prophetic book, but read Doctor Bruce Goldberg’s book called TIME TRAVELERS FROM OUR FUTURE, in case UC me as a rambling sickie on a mental disability and with a credibility of zero-minus, as here is a normal by accepted sociological standards dude, with a Doctorate in Philosophy, a PHD for crissake!!!!!!! Traced-ups and play-fields causes the originals when in sub-conscious states by the mortal world MW view of looking at this, to ‘dream it in’ so 2 speak, and ‘controllers’ who R high positioned in this astral entertainment network, can trace copy the dream travelers or the EXPLORATRONS, and enter into their interactive play-fields. I was placed in a beautiful garden area where a building sat that only I knew about. Sarah-Stacey appeared 2 me 10 or more years older than I normally C her at her endless 16th birthday. She was quite a young lady, and every bit as beautiful as ever, and she told me that she was “going to destroy all life on the world that she had created and the world and the heavens around it as well”, quote me, I would dare not lie about something of this magnitude. I begged her not to do this 4 the gods only know what reason, as right now I admit that I wish this galaxy would turn into a mud of shit. Aniwho, her words back 2 me after I had put in this emotional request, begging her on my knees, “Because U loved Diana, I will spare the world 4 now”. This happened, and if I lie, it is on me with the eternal weight and value attached that naturally would B on matters in line with these. All of these exploratronic interactions or interactions that mortals in phase 3, shift into while here and dropping out their conscious mind or [falling asleep] as the MW would so term this, occur when U do not simply return to the astral realer or truer higher reality that all ready UR existing in. However, this is not the case all the time, and when we do not shut off here and resume there, not that really any parallel connection is any realer than we all choose 2 make it B anyway, but in these such instances, instead of as mystic guru’s of the esoteric would put it, dreaming on the astral plane or realm, we instead R interacting [dreaming] in hyperspace as sort of a recessant personality against and compared with another HSM or hyperspace me, only the dominant other world or parallel universe counterpart, he or she is in a conscious wavelength, and to him or her, U the dreaming invader to that world R an EXPLORATRON. This is one of several ways in which some ‘travelers’ of the ‘mind’ [6th-D] is mind, get caught in a no-return cosmic rip tide that leads down into the sub life of the microbes, germs, viruses, and the split leveled awareness's in the subatomic and sub molecular interactions that can B labeled as PHASE 5 BEINGNESS. We cannot go here 4 a long time, U only think I have said outlandish bizarre things as of yet so far, so 4 now, I will cool it!!!!!! Paula King and Sarah and Nina, and other friends from Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic
city, NJUSAESMWG, R all part of the hugest inter-cycle happenings imaginable, and the chain that John Henningsen gave me, has many secrets and answers all locked up within it. Remember that if U or I dream about an object, B it your TV set or lamp or a wrist watch or a car or anything, it is now an astrally connected or more accurately astrally empowered object, right here on the physical plane. The story of World Lab is only known about presently by me, as David Roth whom also knew about, WAS MURDERED earlier in this miserable freaking century. However, a taped life journal may very well B turned over 2 some one some day, and this may get 2 various people in various futures and parts of 3-D space along the time line, missing some and hitting others, but when I tell Google, I am speaking directly to the future, so long as they remain active, and then there is laser trace, distance delay scan, Swis, and the great lunar satellites that link up with Earth orbital’s as well, that make a huge field that can synthesize great distances. I will detail World Lab, Paula King, Sarah and her friends, whether I have sufficient claims to state with accuracy and authority that she is living on Earth, and really is the All Mighty Jehovah Goddess, and on and on, but later on in the 4th dimension we can detail these things, along with the magical and extremely powerful CHAIN, which spells CHINA in a different alphabetized combination, the first builders of bead counters, and the I-Ching, which is really, based on the first premises of computer systems, as a hexagram can B face up or down blocks on sticks or [wands], and based on the yin/yang possibilities of a throwing of these wands, each of the six are a binary code of a sorts, and this is real, it has tranced me to things that I dare not talk about today, nor will I 4 some time. The Deliverance Hex is the one that propelled and hurled me on the night or early morning of the 7th of December of 1996, to the street in Atlantic City with Sarah, at the Trinidad, and I learned that what I was searching 4 and going totally crazy over, was right there in front of my nose all along, but without the I-Ching, I would have lost it and B in a mental health facility forever out of my mind and forever nuts, millions of years of coma and insanity, is thesis somebody’s idea of Next Generation HELL, Engineer Jordy, or what?????????

Well Big brown eyed beautiful girl, no matter what U ever do 2 me, my love 4U great Jehovah Stacey is as infinite as your upline thought, and yes, I screwed up when attempting 2 explain on a PB the size dimensionality of the endless upline and downline series of multiverses that all loop together in this strange and very mysterious location that U have all heard me refer 2 as the SIXTH DIMENSION. All of everything here in the downline totaled together, can never B as great as the smallest thing above us in the uplines, and concentrically, the up-line's smallest thing is greater and larger than all of their down-lines all totaled up together, but any way, my long bright brown haired teen queen, your parents nor Diana’s powerful evil brother will never stop my endless infinite love 4 U my great queen. I made some bad mistakes, but if U give me just one more chance, I will not let U down. I know U came 2 me as Giant Sharon in early August of 1998, and I blew it like a stupid scared little wuss that I am, can U ever forgive your special doggie, THAT BOY, Zeranniss Yancy?????????????

www.morianity-foundation.com and know the truth that the MILLIONTH COUNCIL IS COVERING UP. This brings date and time file 00000IX to an end. END TRANSMISSION.

Posted by theansweristheqyuestion at 2:06 PM

Labels: a true story:, THE MILLIONTH COUNCIL and ME

Post a Comment On: RATS, TATS, & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL RECORD OF HOW 2007 WENT DOWN, REGARDING MY POST AND THE QFG COMMENT: HYPERSPACE EQUATION MAKES MANY ALTERATIONS.

RATS, TATS, & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL

Blog Archive

• ▼  2007 (30)
  • ►  November (1)
  • ►  October (11)
  • ▼  September (7)
    • Hello 24th century and WORLD LABORATORY
    • HELP
    • Help Me Great Sarah-Stacey Krassle
    • Help me Stacey, help help me Stacey, PLEASE!!
    • my blood is on the hands of the authorities HELP
    • Blog # Bad Luck 13
    • Blog 12 - Help Me SSJKK, in the name of gramps 62
  • ►  August (4)
  • ►  July (7)

About Me

theansweristheqyuestion

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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Wednesday, September 19, 2007

HELP---(Clicking on originals will verify all of this for you).

Blog #17, Rats, Tats, and Playing Real [Non-Eagles] Football,
091807.731---I AM BURNING IN DOGTOWN----'subtitle'

Well, for two straight geeks and weeks, they have put me through a living shit-hell!!!!!!!!! Everyday this month is off the scale super botbar and super high Calliotammic as I refer 2 it as!!!!!!!!!! Computer is acting very weird also, and I will not B making a long blog, but it is the sworn duty to every officer of the court in this wicked and evil 'natio nation ratio ration', to avenge my MAJOR DEATH AND MURDER, AS I HAVE INDEED BEEN MURDERED BY THESE WICKED AND EVIL PEOPLE, mentioned in all dying utterances and declarations on all and any of my prior web-logging. Motorcycle trash R major bad, as they were 4 me back last Sunday, forgot 2 mention this on the post-weekend blogs, and last night my home theater was hit again on several occasions, the mono side cut out attack, and the deactivation of a VCR machine on several occasions when on. Health attacks, road attacks, being followed and threatened and violated, and the list reads like a who’s who in the “India Poverty Registry”, sorry Kali my love. I am despised 4 daring 2 B so madly in love with this fantastic great all mighty being, by our down-line perspective Aniwho.

I really was stupid and humanly innocent enough 2 believe that the guard we will call [Bearded Bob] for now and in future reference, when I am referring 2 the next-door property site of the post that I pull guard duty at on weekends, came over after ignoring me for two months, and deliberately tried to hack my mind. If I listened, what a damn fool I would B, as he also is convinced in the reality of those existing will get 2 experience oblivion and nirvana, same diff. I know 4 a fact that this is not true, as would anyone who would do precisely what I am about to tell, for the um-teenth time, just to make a more emphatic point. Try 2 understand something rapies and germios. If a bizarre set of esoteric coincidences were not directly in charge of directing a gargantuan plot on a cold December night into early morning, back in the year of 1969, my entire life, would B on such a totally different course, not only would none of these blogs B here, but internet and today’s world and this new age would not B. Complex pieces in a cosmic equation include Reagan being shot by Hinckley, and living verses dying, as in many hyperspaces, he lived, and in many he did not live, and also the great Lottery Cat would never have revealed himself 2 me, nor would lightning, nor through her, her cousin, Sarah-Stacey. Lois Foca, the song would not B in the US © office in Washington, DC, nor would any song I wrote ever, nor would they ever had been written, nor would I ever had been employed at the world renown Recorded Publication Sound Recording Studio. Never would Donna Summer have done her version of HAIR, musically, and HSM does indeed with no jokes meant, stand 4 both HYPERSPACE-ME’S AND HIGH SCHOOL MUSICALS, Doctor Margaret, of the Institute 4 Medical Research, Doctor Coryell. His and Her Majesty owned many a ship also, throughout many of my long centuries of existing in your mortal world HELL!!!!!!!! Another HSM, wow, ain’t there lots and lots ofem????????????????? Russell Thaxton U must understand, ON A SCHOOL NIGHT, rang my apartment door bell at one o’clock in the freaking morning, and if my mom had not been out on a date with Mr. Crown that night, both of us would have gotten what U all call in this weird modern, can’t obey the bible and hit your kids world, a time out so long that it would encircle the galaxy and then spin off into intergalactic deeper spaces. Don’t Fornication Upon Consent of King-ing Godsdamn laugh, this shit ain’t funny. Major aerial harassment is also ongoing; as I speak a loud roof scrapper is violating my civil rights and those of Mr. Himacane’s. This air siege is finally today, picking up what I call a major lapse in ‘pussy-command’. It has been very low based on a parallel event that brings it higher and higher up, the more the air siege without any let up continues 2 occur!!!!!!!!!! I literally, could have said hi 2 10 luscious young cakes around 25-35, and had my way with them; the way some were eyeballing me; I think I would honest to the gods been raped if I had been alone somewhere, and they were in one bunched up gang. Two of them in a food store in Stratford, NJUSAESMWG literally wanted to pinch my ass, to me this is all disgusting, I am old school, but my hearing is not failing nor fooling me, I heard what I heard, and saw them out of the corner of my eye, while bending down to get some tuna fish placed on a low shelf in the store. Think about what I could do to this EVIL EMPIRE, on any given day when so much of there siege results in this major freaking heightened PUSSY-COMMAND!!!!!!!!! I know that all of this sounds nasty, but we cannot always B as Tommy Roe polite when explaining things pertaining 2 so much gods awful wickedness and demonic activity. It amazes me that I can only talk to the future, but thank the gods, that U at least R listening 2 me, and THIS IS ‘ROCK’ THE GREAT’S, STAR TREK EQUATION, AS HE IS CRUSHING POOR SHATNER HALF 2 DEATH, with the emphasis of an emotional Hercules, that “THEY” absofuckinglutely knew that I would realize later if not SOONER, that who cares whether or not anyone is listening to me today? The unborn can hear me right now on the fourth dimension, thanx to the reality of distance delay teck or as it is called in the future DDT2, almost in fun, so it never can B wrongfully confused with the original DDT pesticides of the middle 20th century. No Bearded Bob, I am not trying 2 convince present day populations of shit anymore, my common sense eventually kicked in, nut smart as UR Mr. Chemical Engineer by week day and guard by week end, U know nothing about astrophysics nor the general and special relativity equations postulated by a good friend of my dad’s, My Einstein. Y won’t U send back some pop-ups 2 help me out of this nightmare, World Lab? Is it not strange and wildly weirdly coincidental that those tow friends of Sarah, Paula and Nina, R in this time period or a later one, into the more humane networks of society? Yeah, I search on Google two Sabrina; everybody does Except President Hopeful Branch. Anyone that does not C the wild coincidences and far out cousinly stories all taking form, has never Goggled up this entire story that I have been telling 4 close 2 two mortal world Earth annual periods, [years]. Godda freaking admit, it is a bit fantastic, am I really so wrong?????????

Well, I sent my 2 grand 2 the E-Trade and opened my account 2 days ago, and started with 2 long positions on the Dow Index Futures, and this means a profit of 200 bucks per every one hundred points that it climbs, so harass me all U fucking want 2 ya filthy pricky bastard toilet-seat-rockers!!!!!!!!!! Since the air shit won’t quit, fine and dandy mommy jumpers, as I speak a super low pass again, and planes both small and large, civilian and military, small but nasty kemtrails R back, loud jets and choppers as well, plus all that nice pussy-action!!!!!!!! Utility attacks, computer Lattisaw jack hack attacks, home theater and other devices weirdly manipulated under the total control of the GMC, the GREAT MILLIONTH COUNCIL. Yeah, guess it was my destiny 2B surrounded one way or another with Stacey’s, as even my landlady’s college daughter is a STACEY, and spelled with the [E], the way the Almighty spells her name. Go ahead plane, crash right the fuck in front of the trailer park. WHERE THE FUCK IS MULLICA TOWNSHIP POLICE and the NEW JERSEY STATE POLICE, when your constitutional and civil rights R getting totally wiped and whacked!!!!!???????????? I plan 2 take advantage of the pussy command, and get a string of luscious girlfriends as well, so Mizz Benitar, just keep hittin’ me with your best fucking shot; U just ga’hed and freaking fire away!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hello to the future, screw back here in the time period where I am living. I know all about the King-Soifer World Lab, and I in the year 2301 jump out of a sky-car 2 my death, after I get kidnapped in Brigantine, New Jersey, USA, Earth, Sol, Milky Way Galaxy, this universe and hyperspace catalog as of time and date printed at top of this web logging report datfile. Officially, this is datfile 00001, and no matter what blog title or number that supersedes this one, each one will now become DATFILE 2, 3, 4 and continue 2 proceed upwards in chronological order. Chronis himself came to Brigantine in PLAYFIELD JZPXTEY-2953687, under the name in this datfile game, of Zuudlochronus, in some of my website docs and blogs on other non-site locations, I refer to the differences in spelling only 4 the record, that astrally HE sometimes spells his name with and sometimes without the English letter of [N]. Thank U for almost wrecking this horrible town a while back with SUNMAG. I need lots more natural disasters, floods, hurricanes which 4 two seasons have been blocked by Briggbase enemies using ANTIMAGNETICSOUNDMACHINE TECK, tornadic activity, volcanic activity, and tectonic platasonics, and water displacement balance teck, THANK U. I definitely need major help, this video game set to AVM is unfair and I challenge it on a 29-TFWPCG official level. Within a few months, a 16,000 + DJIA Stock Market System will B there, just as I said that it will, as everything I say comes true, in every shade of black and blue, and still I wait 4 them 2 state, that I am here, Mizz Kirshty. U all know out in 2301 that Russ Thax came over in this video game set on AUDIO/VIDEO/MATERIAL-full trace laser scan, [FTLS] and that the first move was having Misses Goodfellow 6-D-influenced or SDI, 2 get horny and rape him, committing the heinous act of child abuse, endangerment, and contributing 2 the delinquency of a minor. Then move 2 was to SDI him to find the unopened fifth of straight Vodka, open it, and drink it all down in his room, the Ross Midnight Action was now further embarking. Then, since he knew we would both B literally floor wiped by my baseball bicep mom if caught together at 1 AM on a school night, or any night, he was in move three of VG-AVM SDI’d to come over with some strange ‘knowing’ that my mom would just happen 2B out on a date with boyfriend-Sid. Then move 4, as the RMA, or the Ross Midnight Action continued 2 progress and ensue, he SDI’s me 2 burn the remaining half of the magical contents of the locked ‘sea chest’ appearing box, in my bedroom apartment closet, in that early hour in early middish December in 1969-AD, in New Jersey, USAWSMWG. Now the super wowish RMA, remember from PB, the song Diana Ross had in 1985 called CHAIN REACTION, and what was the other object that was in the box B4 the great Sarah-Stacey Jehovah took it out of there both physically and astrally, but THE CHAIN, given 2 me by John Henningsen, given 2 me by a mister Hans Worshing from the Philadelphia Boys Club and the Big Brother’s Association of America. 2301, U all know my complete story back here in what U perceive as your past, but I am real here on a 3 dimensional plane, and just because more than 29 decades separates us in photonic distance, it is the same space on the fourth dimension. IC that all of the Google system now fits into your grand scheme of all of this, right down to this AVM DATFILE GAME 4, and includes all that I have been put through and experimented with. Now, I ask for a RELIEF-CLAUS, under the ACT OF UNUSUAL PRIORLIFERS DISCOVERIES or the Relcla of the UPD ACT, THANK U!!!!!!!!! I will now send back all of my material to all of the times to the United States Library of Congress for official ©. I demand a GAME OVER, please make papers appear in the 1990’s about this video game and Sarah Krassle. Thank U 4 compliance under the UPD Act.

END TRANSMISSION-----------------------------------------4 now, whatever now is!!!!

GOOGLE-SWIS-WORLD LAB- official web documentation @datfile #1: MARK MOHR/MICHAEL MOUNTAINPEN

All blogging is co-copyrighted in these names, if these names R on these blogs.

DATFILE NUMBER l--------------------END TRANSMISSION

Posted by theansweristheqyuestion at 3:46 PM

Labels: MY BLOOD AND MURDER IS ON U

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Isis Unveiled: A Master-Key to the Mysteries of Ancient and Modern Science and Theology, published in 1877, is a book of esoteric philosophy and Helena ...

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Blavatsky's first major work on theosophy, comparing science and religion with Eastern and Western ancient wisdom and 19th century spiritualism.

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BLAH BLAH BLAH, their ''GRUPS'', CAPTAIN SHATNER & DAUT, YO!!!!!!!!!! BONK BONK ON THE HEAD, LURCH ROCKDROID, YO!!!!

No more Mister Nice-Guy. It's time now for me to spill the beans all out of the fucking can, and really begin to talk. You see, if it was not for Shirley sending me to a powerful strange medical office off of Grant Avenue in 1984, the entire universe as we know it here on this atomic signature, would be way different. Here we are supposedly the greatest superpower nation in the galaxy, and we cannot even avert a silly political pile of nonsense that is going to become a major fucking disaster, most likely.

We'll come back to this one, no matter how much WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE does not want me to; believe THAT, sir Rockdroid Lurch Rottenberry, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!

AND NOW, IT IS NOW. WE ARE COMING BACK. This is what I want you to slowly begin reading, these blogs that follow that are from a while back, and are chopped up so you will not have to read a ton of shit yet still managing to get some real drifts about why all of this is illegally being covertly done to me, by total jerk off fucking pricks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There is a lot more going on than just what this washcloth family from hell has seemingly done to me, only to connect it all into Wall Street and New York City, we must honestly reexamine the great day of terror, nine-eleven, back in 2001. The 4 planes were on 4 missions, two brought down the two towers, one hit the great capitol city, another ''symbolic great city of the Almighty Scylla'', and yet the plane that did not make it to its ''real'' planned location, would have it it had made it, struck another of ''SCYLLA'S GREAT CHAIN CITIES'', ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY. The United States © Office has tapes from my Epitome of Harassment projects from 1988 and 1989, titles were misspelled, and is why you see the (SIC) in parenthesis on the © forms that I paste into my blogs, it stands for, ''SPELLED IN-CORRECTLY''. On these tapes is time travel proof of Donna Summer the great disco diva, already knowing about the day of terror and the song was all about the following day, the twelfth of September. Shortly after I sent this down, those who know powerful Masonic truths about this evil nation, began striking these two dollars or twin towers, same astral reality; shortly afterwards, there were several attacks, the basement bomb, and others we do not all know about and have not all been told about for obvious reasons having to do with not panicking millions of people unnecessarily.

All right, enough said about the great WASHCLOTH PEOPLE, except that, David Druggie, sir, former boss at the Austin Hunt Harvest; he told me for no reason while I was stocking a shelf aisle and doing my job, in front of his pal Darius Evans of the Deezy Slim rapper company, that you can search-page them on Youtube any time, and I quote, ''Mark, go wash your hands'', and he said this to me for absolutely no reason at all, no worldly reason. Yeah sure, uh-huh, WASH, my hands, and if I had been at home and not on a job in a public bathroom, this would mean to grab a washcloth, I do not know how you all wash, but I always take a fresh washcloth and get it all soaped up in the sink and then really wash up, Michael Germhater Jackson Style, and then rinse off after I hang the cloth up on the rack, with clean flowing new un-soapy water. Well, it took me long enough Scylla to get all of your great messages, from your great Earthly done material, and from your middle 2008 Earthly web-site, but I sooner or later always do get around to ''GETTING IT'', don't I brown eyed girl, Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So who and what and why, is after me, well; let us go back to that early nineteen seventies night up in Babylon, New York, to the home of my late mom's cuzz, Ruth Huntington Gottwald Gozzwald Oswald. Everything all connects together; this is the law of subatomic forces and energies. We either are at our true state of lack of all dimensions, or existence without Full Moon Mayors interactions, (EWI) with a little joke between the Wolf-Gang of L&O-SVU and myself; TEE-HEE-HEE LILLY; or we are, when not ruining newly purchased round end-tables from Good Will Stores, and cutting our-self into refrigerator slivers; living where things burst out from this nothingness, into a fabulous fantastic non-trumped marvelous DREAM INTERACTION, and so to maintain this, we cannot be doing it as a oneness, yet in truth, behind the OZ-CURTAINS of this wild dream-out; lays the connectedness of all things or Quenergies, or newly discovered 'quantum force energies', to be more futuristic and precise, folks, YO! Before Nick grabs me by the throat, and takes me back to 1968, or wherever he may feel compelled to take me; or not him, but one of his very advanced other selves, in the vast and unfathomably huge hyperspace; as I seriously doubt over here, that either he, or anyone else in the entire family has these abilities; but then to quote hyperspace Diana, or Lightning; between the midnight action, and the chain reaction; some might say the song that I wrote in 1969 called, ''That's The Way It Goes'', is also, part of these quenergies. Whether it be Hyper-Space-Equation, or double-doppelganger-Hyper-Space-Me's, or High School Musicals of MONSTER-ASS DISNEY HIGH DEF, or even lovely KALI, or lovely Cali Lewis, on the demo instruction CD's; all connects all, and if you open up your mother fucking minds for second number one, I will try and show you some of this incredibly wild full sucking shit!!!!!!!!!!

In late August of twenty Marola ten, AKA 2010, I drove over to the Radio fucking Shack store, to buy a few cables, to connect some audio-video stuff; and I let some ass wipe store clerk, talk me into buying something, that he said would make my TV appear much clearer and better in picture quality, no matter what kind of cheap shit I may have. Well about a week ago, I opened this thing up that I bought, thinking it was some kind of a small device, and instead, it is a MONSTER CABLE with these really cool ends, supposedly to be used to connect digital video recorders (DVR) up with digital high definition television systems, and to make it all work, you need to subscribe to hi-def-TV, and all your sources must be hi-def. It was a total rip off. But was it a total cosmic rip off, folks? I opened it, and inside along with the cable, was a CD instruction video; and on that, lovely Cali Lewis, a real goddess to put it politely, WOW, you are lovely and built like a goddess, if I was 40 years younger, I'd be madly in fucking love. Aniwho, I came to learn about Monster, monster-ass recordings, and Ding-Fire man and his Disney-Nick connections; all from opening a little ditty thing that's been idly sitting in this apartment since I moved in; and was sitting in a pile of AV connection plugs and chords, for almost the entire time that I lived up in the hood, before here; up at Avenue E, and 26^th Street, YO! What make these wild JAMES REDFIELD THINGS HAPPEN, some are asking me, and even Redfield himself does not really truly understand the full 100% scope of all of this? Yes, the answer is quenergies. Another word from more than 100 years away, in many other parallel universes. I do a lot of exploring when I am ''sleeping/dreaming'', folks. I am not always, but many times, I admit to going to bed as a fully registered, fully licensed, TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON!!!Now we could go on and on, but I need to tell you what my fucking jerk off bastard enemies did to me today. First they were noisy. Then I posted a blog up that did absolutely no fucking good at all in my fight against this mother fucking rotten ass EVIL EMPIRE, and then I went out to three places, to do a few small errands. A fucking 285 pound man who is short, has difficulty buying a belt that will fit. I am tempted to buy a cheap ice pick, and drill my own holes nearer to the start of the belt, but I doubt this will do much good. You can use this as you take weight off, but in the opposite direction, you simply run out of room, as most belts don't even want to fucking go around my big ass fucked up ugly body!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I tried to do something else, when this bombed out; and then that bombed out also. I was trying to look up a friend from the old job at the AARP Harvest Job. Her name is Sandra, and she has very odd and staggered hours at a local town department store. Then for trying to do this, and the WOMO MILITUFORCE knows everything, don't fucking ask me how, as I don't fucking know folks, sorry; already dissipated pre-chemtrailed skies became alive with brand new trails in front of me as I headed to my final errand. They went too far, as when I got there, three very lovely women treated me like a king. This is what happens when THESE MOTHER FUCKING PRICKS WON'T STOP PICKING ON ME WITH THIS FUCKING CUNT SUCKING STOCK MARKET DICK EATING BULLSHIT!!!!!!!!!!!! Now it is worse than ever since many many mother fucking months, up on this October 28 day, I have not seen a 4-DAY-BOTBAR-STRING all year I do not think, maybe there was one other one early in the year, I'd have to check my calendar later, and I plan to, YO.

So in a small way, the last laugh of today was on my enemies, while there markets are exploding right through the fucking stratosphere and out into the starry expansion. We will get into super fucking shit this weekend, and they will all be very mother fucking sorry for messing the shit with me for two solid cunt lapping weeks now, YO YO YO!!!!!!

OK, let us wrap up this nightmare bullshit, my Morians and Lessians and any and all Inbetweenians. The original telephone internet was started by myself and some local youngsters that were around a dozen years my junior, in the area of Southeastern New Jersey. This is where I spoke to 'Ingrid', on an internet-telephone, that very few know about; but there are a handful of peeps that do, and maybe for fear of prosecution or something; are maintaining their silence about it. It was not totally on the up and up, yet it was not a violation of any statute that I am aware of. We would all push a few buttons on our telephones that would turn the phone company circuitry into some kind of a link attachment, and even though you would hear the buzz-buzz-buzz loud sounding tones, if you spoke loudly over it, many kids would do this, and began chatting with each other from all over the place, and I know the great AT&T knows about it. It is amusing even further to me, that this was all done by us in 1983 and 1984, and this was years before regular internet chatting or internet at all other than used by science labs, bank and financial institutions, and government systems, and yes; that's been around since my daughter was in diapers, and you'd be shocked at some of the shit that was around that is being kept quiet, for reasons that it would shoot up the credibility of me and Morianity, into the stratosphere. That is the epitome of the NO-NO, as far as WOMO-MILIFORCE/OTAMM is concerned. Ingrid, just her first name, is PCN-671. What I said to her when she asked how old I was in early 1984, and I responded with, ''Very very very old'', also is PCN-671. Back then, I was not doing PCN's, you see, this is where Quantum Mechanics gets so good, if you would just ever get a real interest in it. The A and B points in any two events are locked into atomic space time in their own individualized parallel realities; each on a subatomic frequency that keeps it as its own separateness, from all of the others; yet remains fully cohesive to itself. The time that seems to exist in-between however, is the real magic. They talk a lot about this on documentaries, on many of the SCIENCE-CHANNEL shows, and other educational television or internet sources; but I have a bit of an advanced knowledge of this very item, that they are all so dam ass mystified by; as I remember my life as LABBER Arthur Jones ZEEJINS. This 'QUANTUM-FUZZINESS' is not, again, something localized in three dimensions; and this is driving the current world peeps of advanced science, nuts as a fruit tree. They cannot see that all of the great forces, and this being just another one of them, like MIND-GRAVITY, is a transdimensional reality. Seeing it this way, they from reading just this much, hopefully are able to begin reexamining their concepts, and then begin to make the leap, that allows them to create new experiments, and try new ideas in their laboratories; black shellfish pools all notwithstanding, or even banquet tables that I had no Earthly way of knowing were behind closed doors, that I never went into in 2010, but did in 2011; at the great Austin Hunt Harvest, at the mighty intersection of Happy, Healthy, Orange, and Twenty-Fifth. I'll give you a tip and a clue, oh mighty lab technicians not in the keyboards from petahell society of 1980-1984. We escape the void by dreaming out and away from it, creating dreamalities. This force is a double motion circulation. It traverses down and out away from void infinity zero dimensional ''existence without interaction'', Mister Mayor Fullmoon; and what it does, is to continue to endlessly try and escape the void, and is why our universes in all of hyperspace keep expanding. Our true nature is the void, or the pullback into this void, and again, here is your gravitation-balance of the MIND, and the way that the sixth-dimension causes things to operate when it drops down lower in the five dimensions of transdimensional hyperspace. This is also why things are attracted to each other, and the largest masses always pull the smaller ones towards, and eventually into them. Endlessly, we exist, as THE VOID, and we are all doing this; escaping in outward gravity dreams, while in truth; always merely existing inside the gravity of the void truth. This is about as parochially worded as if I just told you how to open a chewing gum wrapper, remove the gum, and chew, and enjoy. Still, everything has to begin somewhere, even great Lake-houses, and Scylla's. I suppose, even musical as well as roulette enzymeters as well. What did you just say to me, Mike McNulty, sir? Yes, I will be asking the great GAWKY GAUKAUK later today, why this 4 day attack is happening the fucking shit to me, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!

Well folks, the real power story begins when we look at the blogs from late in 2007 into the first half of 2008, and this is just what is going to happen, good people. THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT IS GOING TO BE STARTING UP, and boy are enemies gonna' be sorry as stinky turds being toilet flushed! ''OH SHIT'', just like that cool fat dude on the syfy show does so fucking well, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DOORS DOORS DOORS, WHAT A BUNCH OF FUCKING HUMAN LOW LIFE ROACHES I MUST LIVE WITH HERE IN THIS HELL!!!!!!!

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YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO AND YOU KNOW WHEN TO GIBBSBORO NEW JERSEY BRENDA MOORE DO IT, MMMMM.

ALL ORDERS, ALL TECKS, DESIRE KEY SET AT PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, PULL POWER GAIN IS SET AT MAXIMUM INFINITY 11.8 IPNS. HEAR THE TWO A/B EMPOWERMENT TONES, COMPUTER, IN MY VOICE PRINT NOW AS I SPEAK-TYPE THIS,

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WATCH OUT MOTHER SUCKERS, AS NASTY SHIT WILL NOW STRIKE YOUR EVIL FUCKING WORLD, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO. YOU'RE MESSING WITH THE WRONG COCK SUCKING JERK OFF PRICK, YOU SICK EVIL MOTHER FUCKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ''OH SHIT'' !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Holy Christmas trees and Cooley Hall Singing Tree Angels, you wanna' know some shit that may really make you jump up and take notice? Fine!!!!!

Hyperspace or the fifth dimension is a lot more than some fucking syfy bullshit, yet most syfy material folks, is not all that much bullshit to begin with. Some of it is really whacky and totally stupid, but the vast majority of stuff such as for the best example, ''Star Trek'', is miraculously scientifically ahead of its time as though it also is part of the ESS, yet I am going to blow you away and tell you that they are not in the ESS. I have done my major extensive and quite exhaustive research on them, and they are nothing like what you would expect. As Nurse Chapel Roddenberry and the voice of their computers knows well from being married to this extremely suigenerous man, Gene; knows well from the episode where she was in love with a man who had died, but had transferred his beingness into an android, the great Rock Equation Episode, as I call it, staring the great LURCH from the Adams Family; a really cool ass dude, and not just because ''I better say that''. He said to her something that went over the heads of even all of them, the creators and producers and writers of this fantastic hit television show of the past. He said, ''I'm in here, Christina''. When Misses Roddenberry and all the others of these real cave days despite all your computers and phone genies and all of it, wake up and smell and drink a pot or three of coffee, maybe, just cunt eating MAYBE, you will see the truths of MORIANITY spoken so far. I am no perfect ass person, and I sure don't claim to know it all. Fuck the Bruce Pennock's of the world who may think otherwise of me, SHEEEEEEEEEEEIT! BUT, I do know what I know, and this is what I know. Morianity is telling a powerful truth, and believe me folks, I ain't the author of it, and could never make asshole Eddie understand this back in 2006 and 2007. If something went wrong and my blog got fucked up, he would say, write it again; and I would look at him and say, ''Are you kidding?'' I can barely keep pace in my typing, the mind-realm is saying these things for these nearly fucking eight years now. Sure I am in control and am fully lucid and here; but I am also INSIDE, CHRISTINE; I'm inside of myself, and I am aware and awake, 'BUT' don't ask me to make big revelations twice, YO. If something fucks up, it is never going to be repeated the way it originally was meant to be. Morianity is bigger than MARK WAYNE MOHR, and THAT is a PROMISE, peeps!!!!! I have been told the Christian Bible was written in this very similar fashion, and unlike you out there who some may believe this and some may scoff at this, but I KNOW THIS, as it is actually, literally, HAPPENING FUCKING TO ME, SIR, JAMES T. BURR, OF FUCKING GLOUCESTER, NEW JERSEY!

Things have only just begun, as the lovely vocalist of times gone by would put it so well in her song, Karen Carpenter. We are going to be literally dissecting the opening of the last of the five blogs on the OLD BLOGS, called, ''THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION'', as it winds up in the month of February in 2008, stops for a while, and then restarts again in May of that year. There is more magic in here, in my opinion, than there is in the entire magical night in which Sarah Krassle took my chain in a ''dream'' and told me when I wake up to look in my closet in my strong-box, and it will be gone, and I did a McNulty in my dream with her, and doubted her, and was quite surprised and radio shocked, upon awakening, to see it truly had been removed, and then when I got on the bus to go to school, that huge giant gorgeous chemtrail made a perfect triangulated pattern over the entire skies of Camden County, New Jersey, on that middle December cold morning in 1969. This was major, but I believe there is more major shit to be discovered in the early part of my fifth blog, calling this newest one my sixth one now; and I could be wrong, but I adhere to my beliefs, and it would take one powerful argument to even begin to talk me out of this, and then some more. HA HA JANE BITCHWEEDS, YOU FUCKING MISSED ME, YO, it is a third past eleven, fuck you!!!!

OH SHIT GOOD PEEPS, YO; it is now time to tell you a little more about Sarah Jacobson, as we will not be pasting in any of the fifth-blog stuff on this blog, just a few charts later, the usual paste-in crap, for those that may wish to see the leprechaun magic altering things along with the great illusion of Einstein;s SPACE-TIME, YO DOGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What I begin with will lead and dovetail nicely, into things, so let me just tell you this, my Morians, and all others.

It was quite ugly in more ways than my non-sunburned-1970-bus face from THAT-BOY'S ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!! Sarah Jacobson had the power to know the future, as well as visit with you, 'in your dreams'; to use 'forward-mortal' descriptions of these types of events. Ca'man cave peeps, sound frikkin' familiar? Then Billy Harner told me a powerful thing in his barber shop one day, on Haddon Avenue, in Westmont, New Jersey; more than 200 years before the World Laboratories are built in this area, just down from his shop there, on Crystal Lake Avenue. He said, ''Mark, stay by yourself and live alone. Someday in the future you might need to remember that I told you this very thing''. I thought it was kind of a cruel thing to say to me at the time, and just shut up and listened. Still, I was too stupid to see two unfathomable truths, folks, YO. Not only did he know shit about me from being an industry-insider who knew everybody and their cousin, but maybe he too had some ESS shit going down in his frikkin' ass life, YO. Also, when that ''later'' time did arrive a half decade or so later, I was a dumb ass, and totally forgot about his fantastic great advice that he gave to me, and moved in with Ann and Dawn KING; the disaster to end all of my mother fucking disasters, YO!!!!! Yes, another ''OH SHIT'' is most likely very fitting right about here, peeps. He wasn't just the last man on the world famous STEEL PIER, but he knew that I pushed Sarah Nurockey off of this pier a long time ago in a parallel universe, and she may be retaliating for my little prank, Robin Westmont Kisser Oxman!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where are you when I mother fucking need you Mister Macy?

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I was led to believe that Misses Bassler's adopted son had done this evil deed at one point, but was told before my face was lit on fire by someone that I never could identify, as he was masked up and in a wheel chair, and never spoke other than to laugh that sick weird laugh, that all ''Dark Shadows'' show fans will know what I am talking about, when I say he had sort of that Count Petofi Thayer David laugh. It is frightening and nauseating all at the same fucking ass time, YO!!!! Working at that hotel for his adopted mother Estelle, ''changed his life significantly'', as he told me in a letter he wrote me in 1997, and in response to a letter that I had written to him up in State College, Pennsylvania; black shellfish, and laboratories, and strange wild lovely technicians; all notwithstanding, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, lots of doors are being opened up; only no one is walking behind me with three children, and letting any of them slam shut, while I am walking down a long hallway, and getting ready to turn to the right and go up a slight ramp elevation as well; back in hyperspace, early in 2010. Well, everything dreamed down off of the Astral-Plane, is the fifth dimensional hyperspace; but you know what I mean, my loyal Morians, YO. WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!

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

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PLEASE CONTINUE NOW TO READ

MORIANITY PART SIX, CHAPTER 39. TANKS FOLKS.

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LIKE ANYONE CARES HOW MANY PEEPS MESS WITH MY SHIT AND FUCK WITH ME!!!

WASH YOUR HANDS, RED HENNINGSEN.

Yes Captain & Spock; ''I am dealing with an adolescent'', and have been for a very very very very very long time, Ingrid. Don't make him laugh or cry Charlie Tiger Woodspress!!!