GO WASH YOUR HANDS, CHAPTER 1

MORIANITY-FOUNDATION OF 2006

CREATED IN 1995 BY MARK WAYNE MOHR IN WHAT ONCE, WAS A REAL WORLD UNTIL I GOT ZAPPED MAGICALLY INOT HERE, WHEREVER THAT IS. AS I PROMISE ALL OF YOU, THAT I CERTAINLY DO NOT KNOW, AND WILL NOT LIE ABOUT IT.

1:00 AM-STANDARD TIME, 3 November, 2013, Sunday

GO WASH YOUR HANDS, CHAPTER 1

This will be the ultimate final Morianity book on the internet. This project was not interpreted by me correctly. I admit that I believed that I had been led by higher powers beyond the mortals and their waking world, after being shown and directly told by the GODS of the ATRAL PLANE, not space aliens or other misguided concepts of those connected with the Ancient Astronaut Theories; but the actual lighter worlds of higher reality, and those who rule and reign there. I was wrong. I was being told and shown stuff all right, that is not in dispute, at least within myself. But if this was honestly being directed, BY THEM, then this project would have a real true following and not a couple dozen government agents just playing with me, and messing with my head, along with my own horrible family, and that of my no good daughter, if indeed in this part of HS, she is, and until I can be guaranteed a reliable trustworthy DNA test, Mister Baggage Jerrycoils, I believe I am this person's father, and right here in this universe. There is too much hyperspace effect for me to believe anything to the contrary, yet it still could all be just a shameful horrendous continuation and latest episode, in these games played by these very vicious and heartless Astral Gods. Late in 2007, somewhere late in the BLOG-BOOK called, RATS TATS & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL, and the BLOG-BOOK called, THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION; is a magical night where I had a powerful ''dreaming-experience'', and all dreams that occur at Dellway Arms Apartments in Oaklyn, New Jersey, in Apartment Number O-15, where I physically resided from mid summer time of 1969 through the 28^th day in February in 1975; and the longest place that I ever lived until I moved on Halloween Day of 2000 into Jenny Garbageslut Plageman's Mullica Mobile Manor Trailer Park, in Mullica Township, New Jersey, right outside and just east of Hammonton, in New Jersey, and remained there until my STOCKHOLM KIDNAPPING INCIDENT began in August of 2008, and I was then out of there and at 65-A Middle Road, in a home owned by the Hammonton, New Jersey Judge, Frank Raso, held against my will at threat and intimidation levels, by a FAMILY STRAIGHT OUT OF THE FOURTH GATES OF DOGTOWN PERIMETERS, you would say the word ''HELL''. For now, all you need to know is that I am planning to move far out of Florida, far out of the entire United States, and very far away where I cannot continue to be endlessly mistreated until the day of my pathetic fucking death, by these washcloths from HAY-DEES, Spell Checker is worthless, you know the word!

I honestly thought this was what a higher power wanted. I just follow the leads, the facts, and the GAME, but the joke as always was on mother fucking me, peeps. I am the joke, and the name of the Darren McGavin game is Mark The Joke. Well, fine; but I refuse to play along, so basicly, fuck you all. Before I go on, the MOUSE-HACK is bad, and since it comes and goes or is a seemingly intermittent problem, forgive my paranoia, as I believe this to be being done by mother fucking hackers. Why is it not always happening if this is not the case? Also, I had a yellow triangle caution display in my bottom screen icon box for internet access at help past the previous hour that I might confuse by saying 1:30, but yes, as you all know, 2 AM switches back to 1 AM when we fall back into the standard time, so it was 1:30 a half hour before starting the blog around 1:00, without any help from Orson Wells or lovely Weena. I was hit with a nasty shit attack yesterday, Saturday from the time I got up in th early afternoon, and is still somewhat unfuckingcomfortable. But I could bot access my internet, and when I tried, loud shouting came from somewhere, I am not certain and positive if it was from outside of the building past my sixth floor windows, or inside the building in a unit occupied by these scum bag neighbors from hell, but it was timed 100%, so my trying to log on was interfering in my opinion, with whatever they were doing while illegally pirating my legally AT&T paid for bandwidth and wireless receiving box. Only when things are normal do I get the upper three green lights on this box steady and not flashing. The two main hacks right now are the same fucking shit that used to happen all the time when I blogged with it, Eddie Lynch Himacane's laptop, back in the fucking twenty-ohs, and these would be, the spacing bar fucking up, causing shit like, 'an dthese', or 'spacin gbar', stuff like that, and also when I left click the mouse to do something, it does not respond. Everything they do to me will be reported on these final blogs, FOR THE RECORD, IN OR NOT IN FUCKING 1984, © OFFICE ALMIGHTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I knew shit was around the corner with the WOMO-MILITUFORCE, as I have not been hit with a major telephone attack in a while, and around early yesterday morning before falling off to sleep, a loud illegal civil rights violating SQUEAL was suddenly heard on my receiver. If it was within my power, I would see the utility company, as they have already damaged my fucking hearing with these attacks. I do plan to discuss it with an attorney, but common sense tells me I'll fucking cunt lapping get no place at all. Nobody gives a fucking shit if I live or die.

I promise you I am not your fool, whoever all my enemies are out here; and these blogs shortly will not be blogs, they will be written for the record yes, but never publicly published anyplace. If I did not go to hell on August 15 of 1986, then I went there earlier, when this shit all began to happen that was told by me to Joe and Andy, from the Haddonwood Swim and Health Club, owned in 1996 by Tony Zenun, and closed down without so much as a day notice, for reasons that have to do with a secret so huge, it may just dwarf ANYTHING IN FUCKING ATLANTIC CITY, and Billy and Sally, THA'S FUCKING SAYIN' SOMETHING, yo!

I asked my viewers to plug me, and they refused to help. I asked them to communicate with me, and they refused to do so. I asked them to listen to my Youtube music, and again, they said no. Well, I'd fight and die on any battlefield on the planet for their freedoms and rights, but I'd also do the same for mine as well, and I am now free to say, OK, fine, this short book of perhaps 10-50 chapters will conclude the Morianity Internet Project; it was a total failure, and I never had any followers at all, just enemies. If you by some wild chance ever get this mother fucking message, retired ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, of the CCPO, in New Jersey; you told me to do stuff, and I did all the stuff you told me to do, and it all failed. No one helped me, no one listened to me. No one believed me. The reasons are only within two possibilities. I died and went to hell in the eighties and can never really die out of this fucking nightmare that goes beyond any possible words, or the GODS have cursed me through this family of fucking hell, and just as the torch that was passed to me by Herbert Huntington's son Arthur, husband of Alice Gallagher of Chicago, Illinois; I now with absolutely no fucking pun meant whatsoever, ''carry'' this monster-ass thing on my back. When I am eventually gone, another member within my family will be forced totally against their mother fucking will to take the torch from my maggot filled hand. May the GODS take pity on whomever this poor bastard may be. It could be anyone at all, just so long as they are male, there is no age limit, merely that they are in this fucked up ass family, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tiger Tiger firelight burning bright, Russ Thaxton. I did not push her off the pier in this parallel universe, yo!