GO WASH YOUR HANDS, CHAPTER 15

MORIANITY FOUNDATION OF 1995

GO WASH YOUR HANDS, CHAPTER 15

WORLD LABORATORIES SBT DATFILE:

111213.840 TUESDAY EVENING, CENTURY-21

BEGINNING BLGGING TRANSMISSION

© MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2013/

© MICHAEL MOUNTAINPEN NEBNOOSHOO

Folks, I will get into a few things with you right now, even though at present time, I absolutely know that there are three loyal Morians out here in the blogaud, and roughly two dozen other everyonelsians. I am mainly speaking to my LOYAL-3, one who I believe I have known all the way back to the days of my youth, and one since he was a mere young lad and now has matured into a fine gentleman, and then a very interested person in a particular subject, that soon, perhaps,we can share private conversations that I feel are beneficial and urgent for the two of us to do, and will be e-mailing his recent response to me.

Now before we get down to serious cases folks; let me tell just a few things that are going on. I had a fairly quiet and nice Sunday. The days on each end of this, today and last Saturday were not terrible as far as neighborhood attacks, just not as nice and peaceful. Today there was a real increase, and what I have not told you is that recently, it is not coming from the across the hall peeps, but my next door dude, who we will just call Wilbur Philips, for a totally made up pen name that keeps everyone everywhere nice and happy. The Resident Manager, Mizz Moratto, informed me that recently he is experiencing some extremely wild problems of his own, many of which are with other nabes, and there is almost a war going on. She was quite mysterious to me about it, and obviously knew a lot more, and the joke on many would be that he himself, told me right outside his apartment unit a number of weeks ago, that it had been him who slammed that door at midnight and again early that same morning, and that to quote him word for word, ''Someone tried to set me up on a drug deal, a woman from this floor''. Now none of this is my business, until the loudness, and horrors, and memories, from the house-of-horrors; that I did manage to finally escape from in Blueberryville, New Jersey in December of OH-Marola-9; is all thrown back into my face and thus becomes my business. If people around me at all hours of the day and night shout and slam and act like total idiots, if Judge Judy allows a direct quote from her so many times on her great court-TV-show; then yes peeps; what would not have been one tiny bit my business, does then legitimately SPILL INTO MY BUSINESS, and that is 'just a fact, mahm', and Sergeant Joe 1968 Friday of Dragnet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But more goes on than peeps tell even when they seem to forget, that they are being somewhat transdimensionally puppeteer'd. Don't like my word, world and Microsucks, well my late Uncle Stuart Huntington Mason can be quoted here by me on this, speaking of quotes tonight, ''TOUGH BEANS''. For the entire day, and this has begun to start up again recently, after a long back off from this; the second I so much as cock sucking activate my computer to begin a blog, these asshole nabes, decide to begin fucking with me. This is way beyond the odds for any rational person continuing to see these sustained events as coincidental. Count me among the smart folks who just because it may appear to be beyond ridiculous, I know it is not a mere coincidence. Somehow this is all really actually literally happening to me, Taxicab Jim Burr Permission Barrier.

Comcast Cable Company hooked me up today, but it was all about as outlandish as any randomly selected episodes on the TV show called 'The Twilight Zone', all strung together. First they arrived way out of their window so I will be getting their famous 20 dollar bill reduction where they knock this off the next bill sent to you if a technician is not here inside the window. Hay that's about 3 gallons of Publix Brand Ice Cream, when on sale. But this is just the beginning of this story. When the dude arrived, a very young Mexican male, he was practically tool-less. I suppose I should be lucky he was wearing full clothing, after-all, they did not send me Pamela Anderson to try and shill me into going back in time to August 2000 or whenever it was, and enter that stupid Atlantic City Baywatch Contest crap. But back to the more germane issues at hand folks; I am glad that he had a partner somewhere nearby, as I know he disappeared and got him, and then two dudes came in and were able to do what they were supposed to do,not that any of this was the fault of the first young man who arrived, but the gist of it that I was able to glean from hearing them speaking to each other, is that they sent him out without numerous necessary testing equipment. On top of that, they never showed mwe how to work the voicemail or how to do anything so I'll have to call Comcast later on tomorrow, and ask them to supply me with the needed information so I can work my features and especially my voicemail. These calls from the illinois area are relentless, hopefully it is not the Gallagher's or the Potter's, or other last names of any potential husbands of my mom's old boss's then college age daughters. My caller-ID box just displays the number, no names. I mean it will display the next winning number for the powerball or mega-millions lottery jackpot, if someone was not intentionally blocking the information. I will never ever answer to anyone who is discourteous enough to do any part of blocking their information. When you call me at my number, that I am legally paying for, this is in legal essence, a type of requested entrance into my legally leased or owned premises, the law is written this way. I have a 'law library' just down the road, near the Indian River. Anyone abusing a telephone is breaking federal laws, and though not serious to criminally prosecute over in most cases, can indeed land one right smack dab in a state or even a nice big fat ass federal penitentiary!

Today, reminded me a little tiny bit, of the late 2007 incredible dreaming-interaction that led to the soon to follow creation of a fantastic TV show, at least IMHO, in both cases. I speak of 'The Mentalist'. Let me tell you why I say this.

The partner guy was the genius with the know how, but at trhe same time, not a particularly warm friendly type, and I could tell if I wanted a good job done, I need to shut up, watch and learn, and hope for the best, and I managed to get almost a perfect job. As I said, I have no voicemail, they did not do anything with me on the computer as they did when they installed my internet the first time after I moved into this apartment, and almost seemed to be trying to get me up to something that they wanted me to see, sort of another Magazine Cifaloglio 2008 deal. I know better now than to play anyone's game, even if they consciously are totally unaware they are being pawned and used to do these things with and to me, throughout the long years of my current lifetime. So as stated previously, I'll just call and get what I need from a Comcast Agent Representative, but if they ask me why, I don't tell lies, and will tell about this mickey mouse installation in detail.

I have no intention of saying anything that will be detrimental to my survival and well being down the road somewhere, otherwise, there would be a lot of shit said peeps, and I think you all know it, the M and E. Ann King once or twice, back in Jersey, had said to me, ''If you ever hurt me Mark, I'll kill you with kindness''. She did just that. Here I sit in a place where 9 at night it is a hot 84 by day and still only down to 72 degrees, in misery, far away from all things I knew and ever could relate to, losing all things that were precious to me, other than those that I call ''on the divine providence list'', and no, I don't believe in coincidence with shit like this, shot like Ryan and his giving up so quickly on the electronic Blue Smokes, and on and on I can go. You see, in the mind of Goddess Ann King, I am the fucking bad guy who inconvenienced her great family and her life, and the hell with how I was mistreated and nearly murdered while under the total control of her evil-Chucky fucking demonic rotten daughter, Dawn-Marie. Yes Russ Deflavia, I can wait a very nice long time, for the Dawn, and all Dawns, and all of these lovely wonderful sweet and adorable 'washcloth medical people', old buddy!

I honestly wish some of those who read my dam shit would tell me if they have in their lives, or if they even so much as know a single soul; who never has one thing, one day, EVER go smoothly, or as planned, or as promised; such as with my Comcast shit today, as just being one out of a literal million examples, over the past four decades since I was nearly nineteen years old, and began seeing that yes, JIM BURR, SOMETHING IS WRONG, and no amount of messages carefully retained for future generations, by the great and in famous Library of the Congress, would have so much as a glimmer flicker of light chance, of ever changing any of this. YES VIRGINIA, THERE REALLY IS A 401-KRASSLE down in Atlantic City, New Jersey, or in my present time case now, UP there in ACNJUSAESMWG!!!!!!!!!

Hay, I don't have a clue why shit happened the way that it did today, so let us stay honest and focused on what Morianity is really all fucking about, good folks. I don't have any more of a clue why music is such a monster in my life, why 1983 had to happen, or 1984 or 1986 or any of this ever had to happen. I don't claim to be some fucking god, and far be it from me to ever even appear to be assuming that I am the great all seeing guru mystic of the great and lovely Himalayan Mountain Chain in Tibet, YO YO!!!

But do I have some clues about how hyperspace works, and what causes the effects when you do things that in some meaningful way, attaches two worlds closer together than they would have otherwise ordinarily been without intervention by playing with magnetic systems, and this answer is not an unequivocal no but an ever loud and resounding freaking total Y---E---S! But you know what folks, only three peeps out here care, and so they will be told major things privately later down the pike; after I put the absolute final book-cover on this MORIANITY PROJECT of nearly 20 years; and this way, the curiosity seekers will miss out on the very best part, when all is said and frikkin' done. The real reasons why Donna's friends in the AME Church acted up that day when I was with Katie, the real reason that lovely Elly was standing at the bus strop near that very place at a different time, the real reason for Paula's visitation to the Highview, the real reasons that my pants did not go down to my shoes back in 1988, the real reason why Ryan started to smoke again, the real reasons for my music and all the connects into it; and please don't doubt me when I say to multiply this by about 10,000, and you just might get the whole list! I mean give it a rest, you know I could go on typing a list that would be still ongoing next Saturday and the one after that one. The real reason for the movies of the 1996 Mary Tyler Moore Network, and Oprah's Land Owning Bassler Network, the real reason why Harner came into my life, the real reason why two beyond power-strong messages were written in the cosmic fucking stars in 1969 and spoken with intent for my ears to hear them, out of the mouth of lovely Sarah Nurocky of Tennessee Avenue, hell, would a list like this even hope to ever contain an ending, good people, give me a dern Kit-Kat fucking bar, folks, and while you're at it, please have the great awesome Margie Leo cut me a break as well, back in 1985, crissake, YO. Oh and I fucked up, and need to re-clarify those two messages from 1969 Sarah. When initial written, remember it comes to YFAITS and IDTYA, and how I said to speak these initials out as they sound, and I said why fates, I did you. It was meant to say the connecting sonics of the YF, you know, ''your fate is'', or completed, ''YOUR FAIT IS THAT I DID YOU'', and you see; the ALMIGHTY sees the illusion for what it is in HER fullness, and total glory, from HER GREAT CITY, knowing the , from the beginning; just AS SCRIPTURES TEACH ANYONE WHO HAS AN OPEN MIND, BRO.

I stopped trying to figure shit out a long time ago. I only know what I do indeed know, and no more. I want to know more, I would love to kn ow more, but what I do not know, I'll never lie to you about and claim that I dam do!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Things can be mathematically formulated to show a lot of stuff, and then there is the David Leigh Smith Haddonfield 1970 day of blackboards and horny young female student teachers. Still, when enough stuff happens to show it is real, just because it appears to be absurd, most will go with the absurd notion, and throw the bathwater, the baby, and the real supporting evidence, right out into the street. This is truth, live with it folks, I have to, that much retarded little shit head me knows, and maybe Billy Harner, sir, just maybe, that's sayin'; something, old pal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At the risk of losing my very favorite television show forever, I have been told by a reliable source, thatr all my quietly kept queries for so long now, are not in my imagination. As usual, mister Phase-4-Distant-Cuzz was behind all of my Oz-Curtains, and he knows all the shit I know, and wants to take our great All Mighty Jehovah for himself someday. He has it all planned and mapped out, and if he is not stopped, a very nasty timeline is in store for billions and maybe billions to the power of billions of hyperspace populations. Think this is funny, mike McNulty? Well, I'm here to tell you that your fucking great grand children may just dig you up in a hundred years and spit on your remains, for doing just that, PAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And then, maybe a hamburger is really just a hamburger, or said perhaps better, the best hand in poker may be anything, it';s a big hyperspace, Lovely Lieutenant Ouhora-Spock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A lot of covert fucking siege is all around me. Strange voices and banging doors earlier in my hallway beyond the apartment door. Strange phone calls, waking up cramped and queasy and poisoned, and lots more. The computer was very difficult to operate earlier while trying to do the previous blog, Chapter-13. Another loud telephone squealing sound also was made against my civil rights at just past ten this morning, and right here is more than enough shit within a very short span of fucking time for me to know that this is going to be most likely another day of fucking horror for me, dear fucking world of uncaring souls, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It will be quite fascinating to see how the rest of the day plays out. First off, my installation with Comcast is scheduled for this middle afternoon, and every time anyone is scheduled to come over for any utility related event, I always wake up made ill from the fucking enemy force that I have named the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE. Today is no exception, Bob McDowell, FCC, Steve Caruso, FBI, World Court at the Hague, and others.

Once I talk to my professor friend during the Christmas Break at the local IRC College, hopefully, we can do something as a partnership to get my GAWNUM APP made, and promoted and sold at web-software application stores. As I speak my upstairs dick heads are kicking in suddenly with their weird noises that from time to time are also quite annoying.

I will keep you posted, my Morians and Everyonelsians, as the clock keeps ticking by. Let me add here, that someone from Illinois has called me for several weeks now, leaving me a very quick and unintelligible message that almost sounds like the word 'yip' all quick and garbled. It comes from the phone number of (224) 387-5684. Also, I have faced the fact that these fucking people are never ever going to leave me alone, no matter what I do do, or what I don't do. This is an illusion that I seem to buy into, from time to time; that I can lessen their wrath by stopping, or doing something; that I feel would appease their sick minds and illegal acts of wrath but as I said; it is not an accurate reality, and is merely me being swept into another one of OTAMM's great parlor trick fucking illusions. (Organized Trash Against Mark Mohr) = OTAMM. This is also found in 1988 on the US © Office, musical project done by me, called the 'Epitome of Harassment' tapes, in Washington, DC-13-600. Nothing ever changes, or seems to be able to move along for me. Oh well, I should hook up with L&O's Marguerite Sampson, as we seem to make quite a pair. Strike that; the more I think about this however; as one pissed off female teenager, is enough for me, right Lenny Briscoe. WOW Mister Macy. Speaking of him and parades, let me float this little idea by you all. All this shit since late August can be what I stated, and then again, it can be something else and very old. I have been living with it for three decades now. It is called the starting of the annual clockwork Thanx-2-Givens Siege, AKA Thanksgiving Siege. When I say the word 'clockwork', I mean that it strikes out of the blue every single year, and is a nightmare horrendous civil rights violating hellish fucking time for me. But it is not a clockwork perfection by any means as to a year to year precise time of beginning, lasting, or ending on specific calendar dates. Many old blogs from my first two years blogging my story onto the internet do indeed discuss this topic and get into it quite a bit specifically with lots of elucidated detail. I don't feel like drudging up unpleasant fucking bull shit right now on this blog, today good folks. I'll keep on reporting and recording. E.T.

I managed to survive through the great twenty thirteen's ''eleven-eleven''. I did not however have any desire to do a CHAPER #13, on that horrific numerical date of super botbar symbolism.

Folks, there are things happening, to all of you, to me, to this world, and you don't need to go onto social media junk like the new age ''youtube'' or other garbage similar stuff, in order to realize or recognize this. You merely need to get out of bed and for once, open your eyes. Not your physical eyes, your other ones, the ones that were discussed in the red font printing in the Holy Words of Christianity, by a direct ancestor of mine, my 61^st grand father's uncle. Keep swimming, Joanie girl.

This tweet-blog is just to say that there are a couple dozen peeps out here who think I am unable to truly add up the one and the one and successfully arrive not at 1.999 or at 2.0001, or whatever, as Bob Andrews said so well in Pileggi's basement in 1975, to me, following band practice that summer's night that he was too busy to give me a lift from Westmont over to Lindenwold. Oh well, you stayed busy, and quite successful, may the gods bless all those who have brushed magical paths with me throughout the interactions of all of our lives, and some sort of powerful Harry Potter positive magic seemed to rub off onto them. Hip Hip Hurray, I mean this sincerely.

The only sad part is that I did every single thing that all the jerk offs in the fucking world who thought they were King Knowitall, told me to do, and all I ever got was axed and shafted. If a future dictionary describes unfairness someday, this needs to be there! END TRANSMISSION.

You don't need to know it all, and I suppose in truth, neither do I, and don't of course. In any event, I long ago have stopped mentioning daily numerous death angels, almost daily small klutz incidents like the one I just had before starting this blog, nor do I tell anywhere near the things that go on in my life, merely what I feel is most important to tell, for sake of Morianity in general. TEE-HEE-HEE, oh lovely Yvonne DaCarlo Munster!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is half past eight this Sunday Vets Holiday weekend evening, on the tenth night in November, in the year of 2013. I again, had a Good Will delivery, and the two most important items that I really am trying to get, my full-sized extra-firm mattress, and my large cabinet for storing my tapes and discs and movies, etcetera, have still not been delivered, and this has been going on now since the start of October, or maybe even the final September week somewhere. I will of course be talking to my friend, and the store-manager, later on tomorrow afternoon, when he gets there; as this is starting to get quite absurd at this point. Despite a small spill of an eighth of a glass of just water, onto my bed, all cleaned up now, and this screwed up delivery number two; I still, as of yet, am not BOTBAR, close, but not there; as neither of these things were serious, and are easily remedied with two ingredients, that unlike many in 'the family' lack, but I do not; patience and determination, or persistence. It will eventually have to work out, merely producing a hassle for me to reach that glorified lovely point in eventuality. The prices cannot be beat, and the merchandise is in great condition. A polish and a wipe, and it is all practically like new. So far, I have two end tables, and a nice high back chair for doing my math and equation work, and other paperwork, my bills, etcetera; and my new office chair, for my computer work station. Also, 4 nice lamps, and my fifty inch wide screen TV; purchasing the TV for 35 bucks, and the lamps for 18 dollars total, the chair for five bucks, the two end tables, one round, and one sort of half square-half round, for another 22 clams; for a grand total without the 50 dollar delivery charge, of 75 smacks, or a total with delivery charge of a buck and a quarter. The mattress is already paid for, this was 50 dollars, and it will be delivered separately, free of charge; when they get another one into the store; as I screwed up once, and they screwed up once; and this is why I don't have it yet. I thought a 55 inch wide mattress was a queen size, but learned from the manager that this is called a full-size. There is twin, full, queen, and king size; in the world of mattresses. Also, on the very first delivery, it would not have mattered if they had screwed up and brought a king size mattress or not, as even a queen is not the right size for my area and my bed, and as stated, it needs the size called 'FULL'. So when all this eventually is straightened out, 175 bucks is not a bad deal at all for all this furniture, and very nice television; after living here in Florida with a horrible little shitty TV, that maybe 5 year olds might have. You can thank the KING family, not the KING MATTRESSES, for this hellish debacle in my life, but that; is now all water under the dam bridge; and I am tired of thinking and talking about this lovely wonderful group of 'human beings'. All I need down the road next year, to make this hellish dwelling a little more man-cave, and a little less cell-block-prison-living; is a nice set of curtains for my windows; a three adjoining system of separate windows, with just venetian blinds that roll up and down, and also open and close. When I first moved in, my pal from the Harvest, another older gentleman, Mister Clay Coins, had some nice rug-remnants that perfectly fit my entire living area, after a mere few cutting adjustments with a rug knife he let me borrow from him for doing this job. Shortly after I moved into this place, he left the Harvest at the Fort Pierce location, and transferred to the one just to the north at Vero Beach; and then not all that much out into the future beyond that in early March of last year, Jessica Grant told me to get lost, and that was that. Fortunately for freaking me, I was nearly at the end of a 72-month auto-payment plan, so I had to live very tight until those remaining months ticked by, and then I was glad to be out of the job market, after-all, I am on disability for a reason. The world claims I am a fucking totally insane crazy looney coo-coo bird, and should not be working if not absolutely necessary. I agree with the second half of that last sentence. Under what the WOMO puts me through and has for nearly 30 years or so give or take, working is not a prudent or feasible reality for me, so thank the fucking gods for Social Security Disability, at or not at, warp speed. Yes, do it Mike McNulty, if you wish to sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now most readers are not that much interested in my mundane little ditty back there about my attempt to improve my living space somewhat. This blog covers matters a bit more important, and is the very reason that rarely will you read things such as this stuff on it, or for that matter, news items, current affairs and culture, etcetera, UNLESS such shit, indeed pertains to me, my problems, and to Morianity, one way or another, and IMHO, naturally, right Mizz 1980 Daniels from RPL?

What many out here will be interested to know, for their own individual reasons that may all differ in motives and reasons to various degrees; is that I have decided to give a great big 1983-UNCLE-SCREAM OUT, and stop all music related shit. As once before, I again deleted powerful secret codes and precise connection pattern diagrams that operate my not yet completed in one nice enclosed device, called KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL. I am totally done forever messing with all of this shit. As you can see from previously posted up MAGNETIC PERCENTAGE BOTBAR numbers, (MPB) this will cause major things, as days and weeks go by; to happen in the vast gargantuan sized 'hyperspace', to begin to re-balance, and perhaps cause some wild things to occur, but this is anybody's guess, as nothing ever has to come into any particular individual universe from the vastness that contains all of these universes; the multiverse or the fifth dimension, with or without sports, women, or money related conversations, MMC of the great 1988 'Solid Gold' television show. The versions that the US © Office have, of all my newest post twenty-ohs material; is all back to the exact way that they have it in their files. I am through playing dangerous games, that do in truth, have incredible and major effects; yet unknown by any existing scientific experimentation data; because of transdimensional effects, that atomicly cause energies as of yet totally alien to our knowledge as a species in current time, as per the date on this blog, to develop what I term, a 'bleed-through' effect, or a 'BTE' for a short abbreviation. I already showed the example on a blog from earlier in this year, where I used the hypothetical example of one center soaking wet towel, and then all around this; numerous totally dry towels, and from just this, I now ask anyone in science, what formulas as of this very date; can accurately show the precise way that even with this example in five dimensionality reduced to some towels in a room on a floor; depict a precise pattern of which towels slowly over time or D-4, with the total towels being the D-5, so that one is able to accurately predict each time a soaking wet middle towel is dropped down again, with many dry towels all around it. If anyone says there is a way to equate the exact spreading-wet pattern into the dry towels, I'd enjoy hearing their comment immensely. BUT, even if you can convince me such a formula can be created in 2013, this is just for determining the exact bleed-through of wetness into these surrounding dry towels, each time being different, as how can this be repeated in precision? Each time, the middle central towel is wet with a tiny bit of less or greater total amounts of water, and each time, the surrounding dry towels will be arranged a small amount differently, even if it seemingly is duplicated with human eye precision, let alone just done bing-bang-boom style. Sorry about the ranting and ongoing details, I just am attempting to describe how hyperspace works, in a society that still believes even the word to be fictional or out of syfy shows and movies, and even the most educated astro-physicists are nowhere near where I am, in this cutting edge new reality, and all of this, is only because I have been forced indeed, to live fifth dimensionally for a long time now in my human waking world current-self-me lifetime, as Mark Wayne Mountainpen Mohr. Only Morians know the real reasons why, or some of them. 'Everyonelsians' just cannot be expected to have even a clue about what is being talked about in all of this. The subject is in all honesty, good people, way to lengthy for me to ever really do justice to it as so far as explaining this to all of you, in any real and meaningful way, I swear to you this is true. Now the reasons for my willingness to stop my music projects, songs, inventions, all of it, etcetera-etcetera; is because, I will not instead, be concentrating on getting my GAWNUM into a computer software program, and made into an app, and hopefully can get this promoted and sold at APP stores or wherever these APPS are sold to tablet and phone users all over, that we all see and hear about, every single day of our lives, as soon as we activate just about any electronic ON button, on anything that we own; with or without any sand dam sweepers, witches, drownings, pushers, old tunes from the eighties, or hidden messages to the future using the US © Office as an official time capsule, the only really trustworthy methodology for insuring anything that we can do, will survive into the future, and still be an ordinary every day dirt poor person, the general term for us are, 'nobody's'.

Now do I engage in my own White House Situation Room tactics from time to time; in an attempt to confiscate my WOMO enemies; and thereby help me better survive the extremely heavy sieges, that are always caused BY THEM? Well, you bet your ass I do, Annie Cornfieldvoices Costner Cutterlaw Blowback. In addition, I'll add in here, a retort from the great late Ward Hugh Beaumont Cleaver, to his son Theodore (Beaver), in that great fifties television show, ''Leave It To Beaver'', and that being, ''You just better bet on it'', and folks, this is truth. It is great advice. TAKE IT, listen to my words, not for my sake. Screw me. Yes folks, I said I was leaving for Mexico and the apartment was all packed up. I am leaving for Mexico, 'WHEN I'M READY', lovely endless-teen Marguerite Sampson. If I tell a white-fib occasionally, it will be amended later on, and is not to discredit me, I have enemies with great power, and the great US © Office has the taped conversation about this from early in 1988, with me and my late pal, David Charles Roth. You cannot fight them on any near-level playing field, never running cons on them, when they do nothing BUT run cons and hellishness on my, 24-7-365.2422!!! WHAAAA. Still, I promise you, this is not a coded-poem from my old LIFE JOURNAL cassette tape days, and it certainly is not a fabrication that will be later admitted to as another temporary CON JOB ON THE MILITUFORCE, when I tell you, that I will not be doing anything ever again, musically, you want it, you got it, you sick mother fuckers, B---U---T, you won't stop me from going ahead with my plans to promote and globally sell my GAWNUM SOFTWARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Take that to the Toronto Bank, YO! This is not the only thing I will be working on either, and I do believe there are parts of my WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE enemies who can and indeed DO read my thoughts, so they already freaking know what I plan and these things are beyond hyper ultra big ass time. So screw music, and screw my whole family, FOREVER. As far as I am concerned, you're all DEAD 2 ME, so don't bother taking me anywhere Lieutenant Sakavich and Sergeant Smarzinski of 1989 Voorhees Police Department, and say hello to the great local county prosecutor's Offices for me, folks. I'm doing my very best to carry out your ideas and advice given to me, and landed somewhere between the pipes below the toilet seat, and the Arthur Movie from early in the nineteen-eighties, Dawn-Marie King and Louis Laines. My best to the gang at Cifaloglio too, if out there any place, YO. I think Muscles-Ed knew that night deep down, that things were about to take a major change for all of us, and well, shit dudes, THEY DID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GO WASH YOUR HANDS, CHAPTER 11

9:11 ANTE' MERIDIAN, EST, 9 NOVEMBER, 2013

SATURDAY HELL BOTBAR X 2 MAJOR MORNING,

HERE IN FUCKED UP CURSED FORT PIERCED, FLORIDA

The phone was attacked again at 7 this morning, no way to call out, just dead. It would seemingly work, dial tone, call tones, but the calls never completed, just dead circuits at the end of any attempted outgoing call. Then the internet was hit again as well a few minutes ago at just after 9. I was reading my blog up on the Blogger Web-site, and it crashed, a bright light struck and nothing worked, and things went nuts, and I had to manually shut down, restart, and go through the normal procedures for recovery. I honestly do not know why this has returned to this death level, Mizz Bondi, US Attorney General, FBI, FCC, ACLU, or anyone out here who might care that I am being monstrously fucking tortured to death. I know my no good rotten daughter and her friends must be behind this, and I truly hate her guts. Like any of this was my fault, I am caught up in this rip tide from hell, along with all the other messy shit that's going on. I am not doing anything to you. But if this assault keeps on going, I will make 100 CD copies of the talent-added new material, and begin placing them in their sleeves, and then going all around the county, dropping them all around crowded places where people are bound to find them. With each CD will be an accompanying cassette tape of me telling a nightmare story, and also providing the finders with the internet address of the Mountainpen.

In-between the time that I called the Comcast peeps, to have them bundle me a package and cancel my AT&T phone permanently, leaving me to just call them to cancel the internet on the day that the Comcast installation is done next week; I came over to read my blog on the net, and it froze up after a bright light. Please stop this Mariah, I know all the horrible things that you did as a child, please, let us not take this any further, please. I know you are all mighty ISIS, and I am not afraid of you, go ahead and kill me. Another fantastic OJ trial is definitely destined to be around the corner, and this one will top anything yet ever, in the global media. A wow to describe this would require a page the size of the solar fucking system.

THIS STOPS NOW, OR I WILL DO WHAY MUST BE DONE.

We all better wash our hands before it is too late!

I WILL NOT LIVE IN FEAR OF YOU ISIS-JEHOVAH, IF YOU WANT TO BURN MY BUILDING DOWN, GO FOR IT, BRING MIZZ BENITAR AND HER HOT SKATING NUMBERS TOO.

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/

New blog from December of 2011----------------------------------http://www.theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/

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

Counts observed on Google, on 11/09/2013

*****************Profile views: - (2,879)

NEW BLOG PV- (268)

************Total page hits:-------(32,934)

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING MORIANITY-FOUNDATION'S FINAL BLOG, 'GO WASH YOUR HANDS'. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY, YO YO YO YO YO YO. THIS IS CHAPTER 15.

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 RIGHT NEXT TO THOSE LITTLE FREAKING BULLETS.

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.

United States Copyright Office Records, pasted in part:

[ 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

COPYRIGHT CLAIMANT NAME: MARK WAYNE MOHR

IT WASN'T SO HARD TO FIGURE THIS ALL OUT, COPYRIGHT OFFICE, IT JUST TOOK ME ABOUT A QUARTER OF A DAM CENTURY TO DO SO, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OFFICIAL LEGAL DOCUMENT ON THE INTERNET POSTED BY MARK WAYNE MOHR, A LEGAL DYING DECLARATION UTTERANCE.

IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME AND I AM FOUND DEAD, I WAS MURDERED, and you need to retrieve my own voicemail, on my own telephone; and then come to blogger dot com, and see who has killed me; all of my enemies, and each one of them, in their own evil ways.

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/

New blog from December of 2011----------------------------------http://www.theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/

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

Counts observed on Google, on 11/12/2013

*****************Profile views: - (2,880)

NEW BLOG PV- (269)

************Total page hits:------- (33,137)

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well mother fucking world, if you don't at this exact second, feel like reading, ''ONE OF THOSE'' blogs from the Mountainpen, hit your 'HOME' key, then the 'NEXT-BLOG' prompt on the blogging web-site page, and come back when you are more in that particular mood. This I am telling you now, as from this point out, things just get more and more, and fucking way more powerful, and unpleasant; and nothing will be spared, not what I know, not feelings, not secrets; nothing at all will be spared. So here we are folks, if ready, climb aboard. If not, come back later on; no sweat.

Morianity is indeed, as stated before on my previous blogs, winding down, but this could still be one fucking hell of a wind down. Imagine a big spring coil all wound up real tightly for a million turns, and then suddenly released. If you are able to adequately make a mental picture of this folks, then you know things will not be ending somewhere around chapter 14 or 15 or 16, you get the drift, but this is the very absolute final book in all of my blogging career, and when it is finished, a back cover will be on it, forever. I will go on keeping my own private mother fucking journals from that point on, as I have been doing long before internet Gore ever came along in the early nineties, on or off of any Chaney Transdimensional Washington Super-Highways driven by paramedical ambulance technicians. Yes, I am not angry at the world or even the evil fucking enemies; not in any way that any of you could possibly understand at the present point. Someday, if you ever do ''GET IT'', give me a call, and you'll get the mind blow of 100 Count VonMarcucci's, I promise. If that day never comes, that is the way the shit is written in the stars. Far be it from me to so much as say BOO about it, huh Sheriff???????

Now the attack that is still ongoing, began just past one this cunt lapping morning. I was told today by the AT&T agent who I spoke with, that my agent did receive a number of calls in my area; and there was some outage in local equipment. But that was long repaired when I spoke to this nice lady representative. After I hung up and then called my voice-mail system to do a message retrieval, I was disconnected while doing this, and again, the light on my phone that is bright red began blinking, and again, the display area of the landline telephone, an AT&T product, purchased by me a year or more ago, at the local Fort Pierce Walmart Store; again displayed that the line was ''IN USE''. I hung up and after less than a minute, the light stopped flashing, and again I attempted to do a normal message retrieval, and this time it worked, and since then, the phone is operating normally. Still, very shortly, I will be forced to up my game, and have the two services that I had when I first came into this apartment, a Comcast service along with an AT&T service, and I may in addition, decide to activate an already pre-approved government cellphone system, that is totally free, for all area calls matching mine, and 911 is free also, I believe. If I had become ill last night when this happened to me, Pam Bondi, State Attorney General, mahm; I would have died in here, and the enemies would have covertly gotten away with first degree premeditated murder, my murder. Death does not scare me one bit. I am only petrified that my murder is going to go totally unavenged, and I swear right here and right now, my lovely Loo; that I will come back from the dead, and destroy this entire planet; if my murder goes unanswered, and my murderers are not dealt with and adequately punished. You can bet your fucking sweet adorable ass on this, Annie Cornfields Costner, at light speed fucking cunt squared!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now knowing about APE (APPLIED PARALLEL EVENT) or ICPE (INTENTIONALLY CREATED PARALLEL EVENT), and a silly fucking toothless moron kid, can see with blinders masking taped to his or her face, that my hell and persecution, caused their wicked fucking cheated totally manipulated stock market DOW JONES to go right back up today, and retrace the very ground that it lost on its previous daily trading session. I have not been talking about this or making claims to all this for a few weeks, or a few months, Mister Drew Carey and Mister bob Barker, no sir. I have been discussing this from years and years, and decades, long before the internet existed for the general population of global citizenry; and guess who has a copy on cassette tape of this very mother fucking total absolute proof? You got it right if you said the UNITED STATES COPYRIGHT OFFICE, on my 'Epitome of Harassment' tapes from 1988 and 1989, and I'll highlight this right fucking now for anyone who is just not GETTING THIS, and thinks that all this is a big laughing leprechaun imp from the land of the secret medical technicians, and the most lovely land in all the world, where else; but IRELAND. All real peeps seriously into the UFO phenomena, know about the abduction experiments and secret medical shit going on there; right AGENTS CONDOR and FALCON, of the UFO COVER UP, 1988, CHANNEL 11, WPIX, NEW YORK, NEW YORK, DOCUMENTARY, TELEVISION SHOW???????????

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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

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

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Records	Select Format: Full Record Report 1 Latin1 MARC
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Search for: Search by: Title (omit initial article A, An, The, El, La, Das etc.) Name (Crichton Michael; Walt Disney Company) Keyword Registration Number (for VAu 598-675 type vau000598675) Document Number (for V2606 P87 type v2606p087) Command Keyword Item type: None Recorded Documents Text Serials Music Maps Sound Recordings Computer Files Motion Pictures Visual Materials Kits Mask Works Deposit only monographs Deposit only serials Cancelled Registrations

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Contact Us | Request Copies | Get a Search Estimate | Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) about Copyright | Copyright Office Home Page | Library of Congress Home Page

---

Public Catalog Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 26 through 28 of 28 entries.

---

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

#	Name (NALL) <	Full Title	Copyright Number	Date
[ 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

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

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Search for: Search by: Title (omit initial article A, An, The, El, La, Das etc.) Name (Crichton Michael; Walt Disney Company) Keyword Registration Number (for VAu 598-675 type vau000598675) Document Number (for V2606 P87 type v2606p087) Command Keyword Item type: None Recorded Documents Text Serials Music Maps Sound Recordings Computer Files Motion Pictures Visual Materials Kits Mask Works Deposit only monographs Deposit only serials Cancelled Registrations

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Folks, a simple question if I may here, especially for any moms with kids; so viewers that may not be, but who know some; please get their opinions. How would you fucking like it if your kids in Little League were playing with opponent-teams who were playing to kill? I did not say playing unfair, or cheating, you heard what the fuck I said, and this ain't one of Gabby's daydreams here. This is powerful Morianity, with or without Isis's approval or permission!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just how happy would you be on a bright spring or summer morning as your kids go off to the local ballpark to play against kids who are going to try and win the game, by murdering your fucking children? Here is why I am asking this question, so listen carefully, and shit will begin to make some sense; whether you choose right now to believe me or fucking not. I am in a war-game with MIGHTY ASTRAL PLANE GODS, and always have been, and always will be; because all time is really one time, and is a big fat fucking illusion. Now, in order to distract their awareness, away from the quintessential hellishness of ENDLESSNESS; they must do major things that take their minds endlessly off of this. Thus if they never ever are dwelling on it, it can exist, and not be part of their interaction; literally separating them from HELL!!! Now I don't expect you to 'GET THIS'; and am only hoping that you'll keep on fucking reading this. Your awake brain is working in reverse and thinks endlessness is the coolest greatest thing imaginable. All things are reversed by the awake-brain, and if you think about this truth; you will know I am correct, and that you have absolutely no legitimate argument to present to me. You know how it appears to anyone, that the sun comes up and goes around us, and then goes down. Anyone can perfectly see the world is flat and not round, only an idiot sees a round world. You may know the truth, I said only a moron SEES a round world. You think being awake and being asleep is the real deal also, instead of a powerful reverse and there are many other lesser things, we all perceive, what I call in my Morianity; the REVERSE-ILLUSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The biggest one is never even thought about, and that is how we all crave immortality and fear termination, the hugest illusion and parlor trick in the Merlin Cosmos magic bag of tricks. For reasons that are too way out to tell fully on any blog, while living as a toddler in Levittown, in Pennsylvania, USA, ESMWG; I was sitting on a kitchen high-chair looking out a window at a lightning storm, and a beautiful bolt of yellow lightning came down right out the window, and sent lovely electrical warm pulses into my high chair and into me, and for a few seconds, my spirit-world-eyes were opened, as Christians might put it, or others in the world of the supernatural or black arts or those of Wicca, or whatever; and I saw a beautiful tall young blond female, a goddess, DIANA, as she was to eventually identify herself to me in 1983, roughly a quarter of a century in the future, from the time of this incident.

Now I am guessing that it was one or two months later on before we all left this rented home in Levittown, and I remember a conversation as clearly as if it was happening in this room right this minute, and I was a little shy yet of my fourth birthday. I asked my mother how long people live, and she casually while busy, answered back with these three words, ''About 100 years''. She thought that I was upset that I was going to die in 100 years or less, when I suddenly said back to her in a terrorized little voice, ''A hundred years''. A number of years later around age ten, my mom and I for reasons unknown to me, were discussing this very thing I had asked her as a toddler and her answer back to me, all I can say is that I was the one who brought this up, but exactly how it may have dovetailed from another conversation or whether it was out of the blue, is not remembered by me. My mother told me she had no memory of saying that to me, another 1985 deal only in reverse, only this is not one tiny bit germane to the point at hand, good folks.

She told me she would never have said that, and most likely I heard her wrong; as only a few people live that long. I told her she did say it and I remembered it very accurately, and still do to this day and it is not bullshit, she did say it. What she did not understand, and I blew her fucking mind at the age of ten, when I told her, I wasn't upset that she had told me this because I thought this was too short and I was scared to die someday, but to the contrary; I was scared out of my mind of having to live for so much longer, knowing I was only 4, and in my tiny mind, could not imagine another 96 years living here. Well, no normal child in the world is going to be thinking in this actual GODS-TRUE direction. The only reason that MY MIND was in reverse-immortal mode, was quite obvious. I had been directly in contact with the great goddess Diana Arteemis, of the Astral Plane, AKA LIGHTNING. She has an entire Astral World family of course, so many Lightning Goddesses and Gods are all over the Astral World, and we already have seen that lightning exists on numerous other planets just in our little fucking solar system. But the lightning from this Earth, is the energy equivalent of HER true beingness, with or without little kids with revenge lighters, and the inability to ever escape the truth when attempting to create fictional art, not in a limited sized universe where a maximum combination of realities exists, as you honestly cannot make anything up, and all truths are cleverly hidden and buried in the stories and legends, and yes folks; in the art of those living on the Earth, whether they like this factual truth or not. Yes Dave from early '1988 Apitamy misspellings'; 'we have fucking enemies, and these fucking enemies have power, and we don't'; and I am always leery and careful around any tall weeds, near or not near lakes, or capitol city's, or Libraries of Congress.

If only some of you would mother fucking click the shit I tell you to click, you wouldn't fucking have to take my fucking word for anything. It is all up on the cunt eating internet, BRAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyone can see if you would just god dam click on the three month prompt, on the DOW JONES shit, that this is all being done to me, just as I claim that it is, but I have not begun to tell shit, and this is going to go to the fucking wall if needs be; and you just see if this is some fucking ass poker bluff, WOMO-M-2-F!!!

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

YOU SEE, FBI, THEY HAVE TAKEN MY RIGHTS TO PROVE MY VICTIMIZATION OF THEIR CRIMES, AND VIOLATED THEM, NO MORE BEING ALLOWED TO SHOW MARKET CHARTS, SO ANY REAL SYMPATHIZER, CAN GET TO A DOW JONES CHART, AND CLICK ONTO A 3 MONTH CHART, PROVING WHAT THESE FUCKING PRICKS HAVE DONE TO ME SINCE 1986 NOW; THAT CAUSED THE ENTIRE RUINATION OF A HUMAN LIFE, MINE.

• 1d
• 5d
• 1m
• 3m JUST CLICK RIGHT HERE AND GET A MIND BLOW ABOUT PARALLELS.
• 6m
• 1y
• 2y
• 5y
• max
• 
  

customize chart NOW KEEP READING, AND FOLLOW THESE EXACT INSTRUCTIONS.

AdChoices

		2.00%
MRK	45.95	1.01%
XOM	90.14	0.98%
BAC	13.02	0.85%
DIS	67.20	0.79%
JNJ	85.76	0.72%

» More Index Components

NOW HERE IS ALL YOU HAVE TO DO FOLKS. CLICK BELOW ON THE WORD ''DOW'', IT IS IN blue font, just to the left of a GREEN ARROW POINTING UPWARD.

Now, simply click on the bullet area after the DOW JONES CHART comes up, that will show you a three month chart, it shows this as ''3m''.

 Dow  0.24% Nasdaq  0.80%

Dow Jones Industrial Average (^DJI)

Posted by mark wayne mohr at 1:08 PM No comments:

Labels: AMITTYVILLE FATES, BEING SLOWLY COVERTLY MURDERED, CROOKED SEC, ILLEGAL ACTIVITY, PARALLEL EVENT, UNFAIR BUSINESS PRACTICES, Wall Street

Enemies, who R they?

WHO THE HELL FUCKING ELSE; THE WOMO-MILITUFORCE, FOR CRYING OUT MOTHER FUCKING LOUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now this is all out of the fucking way, let me move this blog right along, and discuss a favorite topic, or one of the three, for men anyway, right lovely solid-gold-1988 Marilyn McCoo?????? I believe she was talking of the top two, sports and women, but I think these have become numbers 2 and 3 in more recent days and times of this total sociological break-down, on a mass global fucked up scale, and hay, it's only my humble little opinion, but as you all should know quite well by now, Mizz Daniels back in 1980, my coworker, has indeed, and properly so; entitled me to it, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!

Oh yes good folks, that number one topic of not just men, I assure fucking you folks, women are right up there in the drivers seat along with us dudes, and don't think otherwise, or I'll crown you KING of the Fools Club of electronic 1985 dust, right great © Office and all lovely examiners there????????????????????????????? Yes folks, we're talking about GOD ALL MIGHTY, ALSO KNOWN AS (AKA) M---O---N---E---Y.

Sports and sex, would go right out the door, Mizz Marilyn McCoo of 1988, if ever honestly compared in the minds of 99% of the world over age ten and under age 99, in place of the god of this age, biblically spoken, in or not in Morianity, good old fucking filthy lucre. Without it, you can't so much as fucking legally breathe the dam ass air, folks, YO DUDES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is why the WOMO-MILITUFORCE keeps me endlessly down and out and broke, flat ass busted, dirty ass poor as shit and unable to so much as do one thing that would make life one tiny bit livable here; let alone find any way to ever get this conspiracy against me investigated, stopped, and hopefully; eventually prosecuted to the fullest extent of the mother fucking law. This cannot ever be allowed, as the world would literally owe me a check for itself, payable in metals, on demand instantly, after all that has been monstrously mother fucking done to me over an entire lifetime, in an organized fucking way, for reasons that go so far beyond my limited little fucking retarded comprehension, that if I typed for 1000 years, maybe, JUST FUCKING MAYBE, one tenth of one percent of the shit would ever be able to get fucking ass told to all of you, dogs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I went up onto the GOOGLE this afternoon, and JANE MOTHER FUCKING WHORE JUST BIT MY CUNT EATING ASSHOLE AGAIN AT ELEVEN ELEVEN, FIORST THE FUCKING COCK SUCKING PAGE NUMBER AND NOW THIS ATTACK, JESUS DON'T EVER FUCKING LET ME RUNT the SHIT INTO YOU, I DON'T GIVE A FUCK HOW STRONG YOU ARE, EXERCISE SLUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

5555555555555555555555 and 5555555555555555555555 and 5555555555555555555555, and screw you Jane, you rotten whore!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So back to my going up on mother fucking GOOGLE earlier this after god dam ass noon, YO YO YO YO BRO!!!IT IS ALWAYS ALL ABOUT THE MONEY, RIGHT OLD PAL KEVIN FUCKING TRUDEAU, BRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I decided to search the words, ''HOW TO PROMOTE A BLOG'', just for fun; and the very cheapest way to do it costs 300 fucking dollars monthly. I am so fucking happy for all you rich cunt lappers out here, that can play by unfair advantage, and endlessly keep all of the rest of us down forever and ever and ever. If I had it within my power, I would have this planet smashed into fucking tiny bits with a gigantic fucking city sized meteor; you think I am playing, watch the fucking skies; as if I am going to be put through endless hell, then I'll fucking BLOW UP YOUR CUNT LAPPING LITTLE WORLD, FOLKS, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THIS ENTIRE WORLD FUCKING SUCKS!!!!!!!

Now here's one you didn't see coming, I'll betcha folks, and I don't mean the soon to come world destroying meteor, well soon by my standards. It will be after the year 63 hundred, so all you will be long gone, you lucky fucking turds!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All those cunt eating days in school that the majority of students sit in a math class and say, oh fuck this Henry Fonda shit, I am angrier than any 12 jurors have ever been, but beyond all that; who needs math if you're not gonna' fucking be a scientist, or an engineer, or an architect; you know, the typical whiny school kid math haters club??? Well, here is what fucking math can reveal to folks that paid attention a little bit in school and only threw a few spit balls at the fucking ass teacher!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Like WOW, Mister R. H. MACY, and STACEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

People can theorize, wonder, guess, and make all sorts of logical, as well as totally illogical deductions; about any possible parameter that physical life has to offer; from whether it is the right time to ask a boss for a raise, a pretty girl out on a date; or just if a family should vacation in Hawaii or the Rocky Mountains, and so on and so forth. Also, when accurate records are not kept, be it related to moods of a spouse, weather by professional meteorologists, sports-stats, and again the list of items such as these, could be as long as those proverbial plastic water bottles, that stretch many times around the world, if they were all put together; as per the great advertisement spots on the television system. I, just as I did for decades, until it fucking cunt began to depress me to the point of fucking suicide, Mommy-Dearest Potter-Pills; am now keeping track of daily BOT verses NOT days, or days that are really bad, verses days that pass just out of this horror fucking range. Now I have admitted that I was doing a music-related thing, again, beginning on the 28 August day, several months back this year, and corresponding precisely to this very time, a brand new percentage of BOTBAR DAYS began to emerge, as a fucking result, AND AS ALWAYS, you know, music for me is a total fucking NO-NO, so says the EVIL EMPIRE/ WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well in the attempt of keeping this story as short as is humanly Pennock non-perfect possible or (HPNPP), for any future usage if needed; let me just tell you that I have already given the blog-world and my viewers, the simple mathematical formula for equating this very thing, based on how many botbar days total there are, and how many total days of the various months, and blah-blah-blah; and I am not going to re-hash this shit right now. All you need to mother fucking be told my wonderful MORIANS and my rotten EVERYONELSIANS; is thissssssssssssssssssssss, Miss Lucci Snakes AMC, from when else, and I recall it just how you said it on the show back then, good old 1983.

IF YOU TAKE ALL OF THE DAYS IN 2013, FORGET ABOUT INDIVIDUALIZING THE MONTHS; THAT ARE ALL ON ONE SIDE OF THIS MUSICAL LINE DRAWN IN THIS MUSICAL SAND, OR ON AUGUST 28, AND THEN TAKE ALL OF THE DAYS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS LINE, OR BETTER SAID, FROM JANUARY ONE THROUGH THE TWENTY-SEVENTH DAY IN AUGUST, AND THEN FROM THE FUCKING TWENTY-EIGHTH DAY OF AUGUST UP THROUGH THE PRESENT DAY; THE MAGNETIC PERCENTAGE BOTBAR IS JUST ABOUT MOTHER FUCKING DOUBLE, WHICH MEANS ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE, CUBED, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LET ME BREAK THIS ALL FREAKING ASS DOWN FOR ALL OF YOU OUT HERE, YO YO YO YO YO YO!

In total, there are three parts to this equation. There is the actual present day MPB, or the MPB for this date of 8 November, the three hundred second day of 2013, then there is the MPB for one side of this musical sand line, and then the MPB for the other side. First, on the year, right up to this present date, the MPB is a horrific mother fucking one for three, or just under it. Can you even begin to fathom living a life where you know that every third cunt eating day for you is going to be real major fucking ass HELL????????????? I feel sorry for anyone out here who could tell me to my fucking face, hay asshole Mountainpen, move over, you won't die in any fucking ass lonely hearts club, YO. I don't buy that for a second or a microsecond or a pico-second or a suck my dick second. Sorry about that Chief and Maxwell Smart, agent 86 AX, shit, a dude after my own heart, poor pitiful you, and I suppose Linda, until I finish my KFP, and then she and many others, can have a blast, all over again, as I know I will be doing, and fuck all of you, I HAVE RIGHTS, COCK SUCKERS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You're gonna' have to mother fucking murder me you rotten bastards!!!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho Flo and Poolbox and 'others', yes, my annual MPB as of today is a horrendous 31%. Now the line in the music sand deal will be shown, and ain't fucking math cool as shit cubed, with or without horse sugar?

The BEFORE AUGUST 28 MAGNETIC PERCENTAGE BOTBAR number is 26%.

The AUGUST 28 AND AFTER MAGNETIC PERCENTAGE BOTBAR number is 47%.

If you were not, or if I were not really' KEEPING REAL ACCURATE FUCKING CAREFUL RECORDS, so nice and meticulously; as I used to do ever since summer time in 1982 until I went nuts around summer time 1997 with persecution from WASHCLOTH-TAWF-NSA, or whatever, 'Andrews-Teen'; I would have no proof and real science data on my claims, only, I AM RECORDING MY LIFE AGAIN, and this time, it is going straight to the fucking cunt WORLD COURT AT THE FUCKING HAGUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please, as Skating Numbers Abbey might say so dam ass well, don't even think about ''insulting my intelligence'' here, Mizz lovely and very luscious, Alice Simmonelli. This is because I paid attention in MATH CLASS, folks, or what would I do now, ask Mizz wonderful Bondi to help me, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!

The great James T. Burr, with all of the fucking answers; what a story this all is; and I have told, maybe, JUST FUCKING MAYBE; 2 or 3, possibly 4 or 5 percent of it, folks, no more; and less if anything; but now, I am going to tell you a powerful something else about all of this bullshit hellishness, BRAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We met as I told you all in a computer school called PROFESSIONAL CAREERS INSTITUTE, IN THE SUMMER TIME OF 1973. He was probably the most interesting fucking dude that I ever met on Planet Earth, despite having no significantly wild weird unnatural abilities and powers or whatever, that so many others have demonstrated that indeed they had, to me, from time to time, throughout my intense and incredible fucking nearly six decades of life now as Mark Wayne Mohr. Ten years later from this time, while I was renting a split level home in Atco, New Jersey, owned by a man named Gerald Pliner, owner of the L&S Nursing home of Atco or Berlin, somewhere along this Jackson Road borderline, lovely Emmy-Louise Cicone and Mommy; but aniwho; moving right along here BRAH, he had spent 9 of those 10 years drilling me with his religious fucking horse shit and Christianity, and SATAN THE DEVIL, and how my entire life is being destroyed by SATAN, and that the problem or reasons for this happening to me personally, all stemmed from something in my family, to quote fucking words that he spoke over repeatedly, totally verbatim. One day in the springtime of 1983, while he and I were driving to Atlantic City in his car, to play 'systems-roulette', the follow-opposite roulette method that kicked holy fucking christ hell, out of the Golden Nugget Casino, on Brighten Avenue, on the south strip; and then later lost up north at Resorts International, where on that very day, they did something to me that is real worthy of saying to Pam Bondi if she is ever reading these things, no matter what she might think of me or how crazy I may appear to her, or anyone else for that fucking ass matter, YO. This is when they had some female employee get onto their public address system and before a new song was played onto it, she announced loud and clear, ''OK THE NAME OF THIS SONG IS'', and then proceeded to activate the song to play. This is the only time anything like this had or has, ever happened in all my fucking years playing at the Atlantic City casinos, and this would be off and on quite a bit through the two decades of the twentieth century and even well into the twenty Marola ohs as well. But there is one more item you need to know about that will make what they did to me on that day so wild and beyond absurd, as really, who am I, that some huge corporation would care enough to let me know that they know about me? I had just copyrighted several months back before this date, it might have been the project SAGA OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD, or it could have been the other two 1983 projects, as there were 3, and all done while living there in Atco, and on the song in this collection of tunes sent as a compilation, there was a song called, ''DON'T FUCK AROUND WITH MAGNETICS''. Now before this song opened up, I announced onto the master reel tape that the copy cassette was made from and sent down to Washington, DC to the US © Office, and I quote, I said before the music began to play, the following exact words as an intro to the song, ''OK the name of this song is don't EF around with magnetics''. This is all true, and this document on the internet is sworn to, legally, under FULL PENALTY OF LIBEL, SLANDER, PERJURY, or any other charges the fucking ass dam feds could ever think to charge this poor old dumb pathetic bastard with!!!!!!!! But the story about this particular day with Jim Burr in Atlantic City moves on, folks, so don't mother fucking go disappearing on me yet. This gets 'real good', lovely powerful gorgeous Keisha.

We left the god dam casinos behind and he was driving down the White Horse Pike, and had taken the Expressway down, and decided to save money going home since the Resorts Casino blew us away, and how, by using the ICPE-APE, messing with me, to fuck up my magnetics, speaking of THE DEVIL, HUH SATANICK 401 Virginaclaus?????????????????????? He went into his usual diatribe after a few miles out of town and heading westbound on Route-30, about his religion, and how I need to be in fucking church. Of course he was lying all those months back in 1983 about going himself to church, and had stopped going, lied about it to my face, and then with the epitome of hypocrisy, told me in anger to get to church before Satan takes me to HELL. What a bunch of fucking horse shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I of all peeps know, folks, that all this supernatural shit has a reality to it. I live inside this fucking misery every cunt lapping day of every dick licking year. I KNOW it is all real, BUT, I do not plan on letting the gods make a total fucking fool out of me, as ISIS JEHOVAH has had so much fun doing now for my entire life here, in both of her lifetimes here. Take last night with the phone, take the phone again after calling AT&T and hearing things are all repaired and then it happens again, take a billion things that my fucking blogs have told you, and then another fucking trillion things that all went down before my blogs ever even began, good peeps, YO!!!!!!!!

Now comes the cool part. I suddenly told Jim Burr that all his shit was changing. He used to so accurately know all the shit that was going to happen in my life, like some magical fucking prophet. The details would require a blog half a million pages long, so natch, folks; I'll be suppressing and compressing shit here, and you wouldn't have it any other way. I told Jim that I have very good reasons to believe that this SATAN character has become very busy recently, engineering the end of the world shit that you got me to read about in your Christian Bible, and that he has no more time to be personally directing this shit against me, nor can he spare his so-called black angelic hosts any longer; as they all are needed elsewhere, yet he still desires intensely to inflict agony on me and my life; and has altered some of the rules. I went onto tell Jim about it, but he did not believe me, the same bastard who put me onto all this mother fucking shit ten years earlier. What I had said to him that he refused to believe, and we had this conversation a dozen times after this day and ride home on the Route-30 road from Atlantic City; but he refused to believe it, and he just would not relent his opinions on the matter one bit; which I found very outlandish to say even the very least. What I had said is that since Satan is too busy, he has assigned the task to the human world, to make the powerful owners of the planet suddenly begin to despise me, fear me, and want to persecute me, so that now, SATAN no longer needed to be at the helm of this large vessel, and could go onto work his wickedness, and demonic fucking magic, and parlor tricks; that would bring forth the eventual occurrence, that humans term and label, Armageddon.

To this fucking day up here in November of twenty-thirteen, I STILL BELIEVE THIS TOTALLY, AND WHOLE HEARTEDLY, and maintain this belief system with a vengeance, and a passion; and the only way to convince me I am mistaken or wrong about this fucking shit in any real and meaningful way; is to do what I told in 1998, to Mister Clarence Harris, Assistant to the Congressman Robert Andrews, who had become my personal friend; as was the Congressman who even sang on two of my © tunes in 1980; and that would be nothing less than to simply 'PROVE ME WRONG'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Folks I am tired, hungry, and all washed up. I am no longer the greatest fucking fish in the whole dam bay, just a dying old small fry, ready to be cooked and swallowed into the fucking flames of cunt lapping HELL! Still, I will tell you all some real powerful shit later on, and don't think for a second that I am even close to ever telling all the huge shit that will indeed be coming out to the entire world very soon. THERE IS GOING TO BE A LOT OF FUCKING SORRY ASSHOLES OUT HERE, with all of their mother fucking great power, Plotsaluck games, enemies, weeds, and stolen boyfriends, all totally notwithstanding. These blogs will tell way way more!!!!!!

'GO WASH YOUR HANDS', CONTINUES ON.

GREAT ISIS BOIL SKATES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THIS WAS RANDOMLY SELECTED, I SWEAR!!!

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 167

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2296

SBT-DATFILE: CH-167-060911.881

THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER 4:

“QUINTESSENTIAL DEMENTEDNESS IN

AN ULTIMATE ART FORM, 33 MONTHS LATER”

COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

IN KEEPING ALL BANKS INCLUDING TYRA'S HAPPY,

'MARK WAYNE MOHR/MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN'

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

Quintessential dementedness is what is behind those great recently referred to on my blogs as OZ-CURTAINS, and from now on will just be shortened to OZCS. Don't die on me Sarah Callio Dream Taker. My grandfather wouldn't sell you or anyone connected with you, rotten directions to the nearest rest room, if your butt was on fire. As for good old Joe and our prior late summertime bet, I totally forgot about that until opening up a crate in my recent move, showing me where I buried the 500 twenty dollar bills, about fifteen miles west of here, and not so far from Billy Crouch's mighty residence. Speaking of hyperspace, do-overs, and telephone book listings; not only is my name missing, AT&T; but all of the other 'eight MOHR names' as well, in Saint Lucie County. Did Trump Graphics pay off allofem to move away, or to go unlisted? Yagodda admit folks, this is weird; but then with me, what the shit ain't? As for putting all of this nightmare into a great ultimate art form, and while quoting Mister Doctor Eckstein who if you remember peeps, was the fine outstanding gentleman who was directly responsible for getting me placed onto the Social Security Disability system, back in the autumn of the year 1994, without ever having to hire the famous law offices of 'B&B', and become one of the extremely rare cases of 'first apply/first accept'. This speaks for itself, and also is another ultimate, and that being, the ultimate axiomatic reality.

This is your lucky night folks, as I am gonna' tell you all a lot of super monster-ass huge, and devastatingly major mother fucking secrets, so be warned up front right now, and remember that you can always change the 'blogging channel' at any time, or for short, I call this the BLANNEL, on many of my prior older blogs of my 6+ year blogging tear-career!!!!! I'll begin with this huge ass secret, whether anyone will ever believe me or not, or likes it or not, it is the truth, and I'll mother fucking testify to it in any court, and on any day, MISTER FEDERAL GOVERNEMT, G-8, UN, WOMO, WHATEVERRR, SCUM!!!!!

Every time I blog at night, and this has been going on for many years and at many addresses, YO, the temperature goes up higher and higher and higher. Tonight when I began, the air conditioner was set at 82 degrees and was off, and had been off for over an hour, as it is past dark here, or was, when I started this blog. Every five minutes, I have lowered the setting by one degree, and now, about a half hour into the blog at 9:38 PM, I have reduced this one degree setting, a total of 8 mother fucking times, it is set now on 74, and I am still hot and uncomfortable. Before I began I was totally happy at 82 degrees in the setting, so the room was cooler than 82. Now it is running, and set down all the cunt lapping way to 74 degrees, and you people in this world don't believe these atrocities are real and going on, or are no more than products of delusion on the part of us crippled mentally ill mother fuckers, OH YEAH, RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But what really is coming to mind right about now, with poor innocent whittle ol' me, after this fucking gargantuan monstrous despicable deplorable four fucking day chemtrail siege, and other siege on top of aerial, not to mention airplanes and stalking, is a television station in the good old wonderful never-sleeping city of Manhattan, NYUSAESMWG. Along with this station, known by locals and many nearby 100 mile radius folks via cable television as Channel-11, and WPIX, is also a show, and a wonderful documentary; done by them in the year of mother fucking 1988, called; “UFO-THE COVER UP”. Agent Condor and Agent Falcon were two government dudes that were doing sort of a death bed confession, giving me my idea to make that 'fake Florio future tape', and peeps, this is another well known parlor trick, by many Vegas Act Magicians. Parlor tricks get way more complex when things such as righteous goddesses tapes get named, more than a BRIPER of time before the writer of the song even knew or remembered a damn thing after the Doctor Rogers Nasal Spray Attack at my Raspberry Valley door, ten days or so later. This involves way more shit along the lines of the Star Trek-TNG-Q crap, and when ol' Cap Pick a Card uses the words “PARLOR TRICKS”, to “Q”, this is the level that shit such as this is on, make no cock sucking mistake about that lads, lassies, and Labrador Retrievers, YO. Some wonder, why I do not move on, and appear as though I am stuck in a time loop. This was directly insinuated through the back door of course, right on Philadelphia television one night, when the nightmare of Games Experts and soon to follow 'other geniuses' all took root and grew into this demonic experience. It is not me who won't move on, fuck you all for not believing me; as it is THEY, who simply WON'T LET ME move on, and they who have totally stopped me a very long time ago, literally freezing me in a very real, and yes, appearing time loop; all though this is pure illusion as far as any physical time worm hole shit. Great parlor trick number 939.75, huh?

Look folks, there is no Chevy Chase drunken hater syndrome, yet there may as well be. There is no heat beam coming down from the sky, or death ray. This is what makes those that are picked on like me, get labeled fucking 'crazies', an expression I invented in 1986, and the Copyright Office knows it. None of the stuff like tin foil going up to protect you, is real, and what is real, is that a MOGOSP PROGRAM in the 6^th dimension of mind, is set up to do something, and with me, in the case example herein, it is or could easily be called, labeled, referred to as, etcetera, MARK MOHR DESTRUCT. Once this is all set up, shit just happens as it needs to, in order to keep all of the necessary things falling in line with the motive or the program that was set up. For those doubters of such an existing technology, you really have feeble minds, I am sorry to be the one to tell you, and I am telling you this online, and gladly will meet with you face to face and say it, and go ahead and hit me if jail is where you like being. I have cited this example over and over and over again. Go back 300 years and begin telling the peeps around you about I-Pods, and internet, and jet travel, and Global Positioning Satellites, and on and on, recreating reality with magnetic heads, silicon chips, and early versions of atomic lasers, in 2 and even 3 dimensions, with Blue Ray, and on and on. When things progress just a wee bit further, it is no big deal to scan back before somebody died, and recreate the image in a full 4-D reality. I AM THE RESSURECTION, bull shit, the great man of Galilee said, 'I have the laser retrace machine', but the translation is a perfect equal in truth and reality. My family, in less than 300 years did not complete or begin this 2300 year experiment, and it along with all other bull shit, cannot really begin, or end, it simply is; and in there lies the powerful shit that Dawn-Marie King knew a lot more than even I realized, while under her cruel vicious captivity, YO. Still, let us talk about the greatest television show of all time, “Law and Order”, and the episode where he is railing out hatred of the Jews, and how indeed present day Hollywood is basically owned by them, and how they blacklist all their enemies. I know more believe that I am blacklisted physically here in three dimensions than I believe I just made love to my fucking great grand mother. Still, that old bell rings, right Detective Studderreale, BING, and it sure looks like this is the reality, but then it looks like I knew all about the future back in 1986, not just by shouting out the word “MI” before the 'Real Good Girl' song began, but right down to the 'crazies' 'liocked' away inside a padded room of woe, and mountains full of gold, and then the mind bending parlor trick, that there are no minors/miners around that are too old!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Houdini, should I ever let the real super shit out, old stomach punch dude???????????? The EW knows this is all totally fucking real/e, but they are so busy quivering and shivering along with LOIS FOCA LANE and old Soup, they just want me to vanish and disappear, yet with all of that and so much more, there still is a ton of other stuff beyond all this, and yet it indeed can be totally compressed, abridged, and folded up together into one neat nice little ol' package; but only if you will open up your mind to truth and reality, and not keep it boxed up and shut as tight as a freaking ass warped winter door at Elisa's Lakehouse.

I am not through with the “L&O” television show, or Chevy Mean-Mouth Chase, and in fact peeps, YO, I'm only starting, All Mighty and beyond lovely Goddess Sarah Jacobson of 1972. First off, Stiemetz, Callio, McGuire, Garrigan, McGinty, Karpf, King, McGettigan, Levy, and Albright families of Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG; with roots stretching around the local states in all directions except east; only the 6th-dimension is real, and all of these things that seemingly are taking place all throughout this vast and inconceivably huge 5^th dimensional hyperspace such as this universe and all of the other parallel ones as well, is a byproduct. It is like dummies and puppets, and their puppeteers, as only the string pullers or original thought-energies themselves that exist totally and only on this much higher realm of the 6^th dimension, are real; and we are moving and thinking, only it is them, not really us at all. Like it or not, this is the powerful truth that a very few peeps came to see as a result of being very smart, and then learning about the modern day PC and internet system; and yes, PP, your old girlfriend is still mad and one of my 1986 crazies, am I right or tell me sir, and country bumpkin ex-partner crook, am I right? Did you not tell me to my face that day and I quote you, while describing yourself, “I'm a nasty bastard”? Was that out of your mouth or am I making up a lie tonight here in the future, you miserable pile of crap?

Oh I totally fucking guarantee you all that the Billionaires Club, and the G-8-UN-System, 'think' that they are controlling this world, with the operative word here being “THINK”. Yes, we all think, WE are thinking, or doing, and being, and are just fucking ass puppets for 1-100 years in each set of our Astral Plane Dream-Downs, or lifetimes, YO!!!!! Maybe the EW “THINKS” (Entertainment World), that THEY are doing all of this to me, and that is fine and well. But it is time tonight to offer up an interesting true proof here that will shake up the real thinkers of this twisted diseased little puny ass planet, YO.

Now this will be a hypothetical example, along with all made up names, yet all those who know what is being said, indeed are there, and reading this, and KNOW WHAT IS BEING FREAKING SAID, so there! The proof that I am being stopped will be in this “whittle ass falweetale called Elmer Wabbit Fwudd MOUNTAINPEN Illwastwates”. There is a man named Dodo-Jo who lived near the sand without any sweeping brooms, Senator Electra. It had been going on four years since he was contacted by a strange young girl. One day for no apparent reason, he began writing some really wild music that made no sense at the time but would as years and decades followed. This same girl contacted him again, only before it was in a dream, and this time, it was over the telephone. So one day, he called up the Walsh Telephone Company, and asked an employee how this person was able to call DODO-JO when the telephone line was not connected up to the outside world, and while they were working on his line. This employee, Miss Shovel, told poor DODO-JO it is not possible for anyone to call in while the line was off the system. Twenty-six years in the future however, they contacted the same person who was indeed able to pull this off somehow, and had her make a television commercial that poor DDJ could not miss the zingers on. In-between these years, she did many other things to poor old DDJ. She even managed to come into his dreams as well as waking life on one occasion while he was 100 miles from home one night with a pal of his. She seems to have an incredible affinity with electronics and electrical energy, and can pull off unfathomable miracles. A decade or just a tad bit after they met in person, she sent him another wild dream, and sang another song to him, as she had done 17 years earlier. She had fooled him cleverly into believing that more than one person was involved when all the time, it was only her. In the dream, another part of her had become a world famous recording artist with plat albums out every single year. In this dream, she had one of these albums include an additional song, and she sang it so beautifully, that it is just absolutely indescribable. 14 years passed after this, and he decided to post this song up, redone only as far as some minor alteration in lyrical content, so as to reflect a male singer instead of a female one. The job was done by an advanced machine and program, and was totally machine generated and digitally created. Not one part of the composition was inaccurate or imperfect, the voice was sampled by an unknown program except for a special dozen peeps that know of it on major-geeks dot com, and without knowing how to download it through a code that they provide, would cost 20 grand or more and be way out of DDJ's budget. The machine sang it pitch-perfect within less than half of one cent off any note in the entire composition. The same thing applied to the timing, and it all was within one tenth of one percent accurate on a 32nd-note timed ticker. The machine generated a great arrangement, and at the end, it was given very professional sound EFX. After posting the song on the world wide kindershet at a site where peeps post music, called the Blue-Move, only 25 peeps viewed it, and no one made one comment. Now wrapping up this fairytale, Miss UMWELL, I was told by many local peeps that they could never access the site when they tried to look at it. It was totally hacked out, and produced the illusion that it was real and accessible, and only to the computer that posted it up, a studio owned here in South Florida by one of Ron HonZovi's first cousins. My computer was able to get to it once in a while, most of the time it was basically hacked out. DDJ knows without a doubt, that this really was a mega hit record of this girl, in an altered reality. So if things are not all being messed with, why did I get 25 views and nothing, while two years ago, some lady over in Pinkland across the sea was an internet celebrity overnight? DDJ totally knows what the reality is, but as a friend of his told him who worked at a Camden County Law Enforcement Office throughout the nineties, knowing it is one thing, proving it is a totally other deal; and he is 100% on the $$$$$. In any event, ol' DDJ removed that along with another uploaded work to the site. Hackers accomplished their mission, verifying that nothing is ever available anywhere, for poor DDJ to ever do, as HE WILL BE ETERNALLY STOPPED AND PREVENTED; and no logical explanation can be rationalized on this “fairytale” of truth, as this WAS a powerful hit song. He can never prove this in physical reality, but 'HE KNOWS WHAT HE KNOWS', with or without the mysterious existence of one Dawn-Marie King of Hammonton, New Jersey. Through it all however, is the one constant that the 6^th dimension endlessly reveals to any viewers who all ready are indeed convinced of things, and that is that we are all inside what may as well be thought of as a huge arcade and video game, and are no more than puppets and PacMan blobs. But things are only beginning to freaking heat up now folks, so listen up YO!

I was on that good old site, called Fairytale Blue Move a couple of days ago, and reading some comments left on other poster's sites. The subject was CHEMTRAILS, and many sites are posted up here. I loved the commenter who said to one of the posters, we should stop calling ourselves conspiracy-theorists, we really should start a movement and call ourselves what we really are, TRUTH PATRIOTS, this is someone else's quote, and my paraphrase, and I love it, you go, whoever the fuck you are, you rock, BRAHHHHHH. Now, another comment seemed to appear down below and it caught my eye, seemingly by magic. The post was not just made, but it seemed to be a parlor trick, and it got my heart pounding to the point that I wanted to report the threat to the Blue Move authorities, but with all my hacking, it would have been a total waste of my time and I knew it. It read and I quote almost directly if not directly, “4 all you people talking about CHEMTRAILS, we know where you live”. I use my blogs as therapy and I say some wild shit, but I would never dream of making such a threat on anyone else's post or upload or blog or page or whatever. I think this 'SHOULD BE INVESTIGATED', still, it could always have been done by the poster; just to fake out the severity of the subject and without knowing it, sabotage the real effort to stop this horrendous sky poisoning. Still, I hope this site looks into this, if it reads these words. I left my residence a half hour later and arrived at the local TD Bank, where I have a checking account. When I got back into my automobile after getting an ATM balance; I told you all what happened to me, and I have had several nasty fucking nightmares since this, so this is a dangerous person, whoever posted this fucking shit, VERY FUCKING DANGEROUS, AND IS A THREAT TO CIVIL LIBERTIES. Where are you tonight, old ex-ex-ex landlord, Agent Steve Caruso, FBI?

Yes peeps, I indeed go through this fucking seasonal siege and death assault on an annual non-missed basis, and it is every year, right around early through middle June, and for the gods only fucking know what reason and why they pick on me so much at this precise time, but it was real even back in the lousy fucking late eighties, it is bad in both May and June, and even if the Flyers are playing, or out of the race, either way it goes fucking on, so it is more than just fucking HOCKEY, Mister Fonda!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “FTS”. Tellem Jane Clocks.

When I had this event go down, and also all throughout this fucking M/T/W/T 4-day fucking aerial siege of wall to wall fucking chemical poisoning and trailing, YO, I also have had the totally predictable major hyper ass off the meters and scales, PC, also known Sir Prince; as PUSSY-COMMAND, YO. Whenever sky siege goes on and on, even if in real time it is only day one of it, the siege matches the PC, and it is ridiculous and fucking major. Why would an old dude almost fucking sixty years old, fat, short, ugly, and a nobody with nothing to offer, be mobbed and swamped by young gorgeous exciting pussy? I am talking MAJOR ASS FLIRTATION here, and not nit-shit, BRO.

You don't mother fucking seriously cunt eating think ass hole WOMO enemies, that I will give you my life, do you? Sheeeeeeeeeeeeit. You wanna' fucking kill and murder me ya' bitches, you're gonna have to risk a lot more, and come out of the woodwork a lot more than this; ya' fucking miserable jack off scum bag toilet water lappers.

MAGNESONIC, MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, I NEED YOUR FUCKING HELP, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Elder Hair is a twin, the dude from the Mormon Church in Utah, to Mister Goldstein and the Dowd on TNG Star Trek. I knew I was repressing a major American Express memory. But that is not the half of it. I have been repressing the memories of hundreds of powerful dreaming-interactions, and came to realize this in one huge boom just today. I'll get fucking into this shit at a later time, it is late and I'm hungry and tired.

I am sorry you are angry with me All Mighty Scylla, all I remember is you telling me this last night in your great city filled with Shaniah Ripoff Lights. Yes I know the whole story about Kevin Willis and his thugs, I am not holding any grudges, you are one mystery after another to me, as I thought you believed in 'Thou Shalt Not Take' what doesn't belong to us, so far, I'm missing one cassette, and Kate's song. I am not here to gather up anything, it is nothing but a bunch of particles and waves and parlor trick illusions, you seem to have forgotten, and we both know why, so keep forgetting, and enjoy what you created, and thank you for taking the memory away while I am with you in Sahasra Dal Kanwal, this must be a horrific burden for you to carry, with any amount of R's. Still, you must know, that 'HE' knows and remembers, so does Sherry Lee Pote, BEG. IWALU. I am so sorry for all of this hell.

If you ever look up any of my family from your birth place in the 20^th century, tell them not to ever contact me, as they can all burn up. Also, the only terrific source for matters of lineage, in case this ever helps you brown-eyes, is Mister Goldstein. I do not know if he is alive, but they are either twins which your family relates to quite well, or I am a monkey's uncle. Oh, if your mother ever runs into Fred at the Met, please have him call me. BYE-BYE.

FOLKS, I HAVE A VERY POWERFUL FEELING, AND LOTS OF GAWNUM ACTIVITY AS WELL, THAT THIS PART OF RECENT BLOGGING, WAS NOT AT ALL APPRECIATED BY THE WOMO, SO LET US REPEAT IT AGAIN ON THIS FUCKING BLOG, MY BROS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now before Ryan my engineer left for New York and then New Jersey, first on studio business and then to visit his family back on the last Christmas holiday, he had given up his nasty smoking habit, telling me how much his girlfriend hated it, how his clothes would always stink so badly, and he was the one, who just went and on while outside on a ''smoke-break'', at his place on my last time there before his trip late last year in 2012; who just went literally on and on and on and on and on. Anyone that dead set against something, in my opinion, doesn't quickly revert back to his old habit. He was happy and content with his alternative treatment, the Electronic-Blue system for smokers trying to quit. He told me when he got back, we would work on putting my daughters' talent into the last part of the chorus lines that he had put into his vocoder machine, by adding many things I had told him about,and he was the one who said it would work out real good and as soon as I could get into the studio in early February or middle, whenever, in this year, 2013, he would fix it all up. The entire harmony is a mere repeating machine copied from the intro sample, ''You'll Be Crossing Over'', and the songs' title. However, on the word ''over'', a lot of better changes were going to be made, along with changes of other types in this chorus, electronically. Once it is done, this bar repeats on other basic chords and repeats again, four times total throughout the song. Some mild improvements that would have taken a few hours and I would gladly have paid for, caused the entire world to change, right down to the studio suddenly overnight closing down to become some other something, ending my ability to do projects there with him. I am with Yogi Berra 100% on this one, not for this one incident, but because every single time I ever try to do anything that pertains to fucking MUSIC, the entire planet around me seems to fall apart with precision SWISS CLOCKWORK, I mean it never ever fails, and when Dave Roth was with me and my pal for many years, he too fell victim to this, I can only call a supernatural curse. Eventually, even on a lousy little income from SSI, because of my extreme ability to create electronic parlor tricks; I will finish a completed model of my invention, once and for all, called, ''KEYBOARDS FROM PETA-HELL'' or KFP for short, ® 1980-2013. Now when the magnetic-percentage for the year of 2013 began to totally fucking self destruct beginning on the August 28 day, the same day I began dissecting the master discs on my own stuff. Even though I always do shit with headphones only, somehow THEY ALAYS KNOW EVERYTHING, WHOEVER ''THEY'' REALLY FUCKING IS. This is when all hell broke fucking loose for me, and the MPB changed from what it had held so far at that time on the year, and began literally fucking doubling into a horrendous monster ass fuckin g total nightmare. But folks, this is just stuff that I want in the back of your freaking minds while I tell you the biggest part of this song, and the lab technician, and the incredible medical-office 2008 dream before my kidnapping by the King branch of this powerful star traveling family. I don't expect you to believe on face value that the great ISIS comes here to Earth in many lives, and does all of this, I know it is all the truth, and we've known each other forever and ever, but that';s my fucking problem. Right now, I am here to tie something in big ass fucking ultra hyper time for all of you, whether you ever GET IT or not!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As you all should know if you have followed me with any attention at all; beginning on the night of 4 June in 1983, 365 months and 3 days ago, (30 years, 5 months, 3 days) at half past ten at fucking night on a warm dark summer night, while residing in a nice split level rental home, in Atco, New Jersey;owned by Gerald Pliner; I was suddenly struck down like out of the famous sixties supernatural soap television show called 'DARK SHADOWS', when the witch, played by Lara Park, character named Angelique, did witchcraft on her lover, played by Jonathan Frid, character named Barnabas Collins, and she placed a handkerchief around a toy soldier that he used to play with as a young boy, and began choking and pulling it around the soldier's neck. Suddenly Barnabas grew deathly ill and nearly died, choking horrifically from this witchcraft attack, and finally, in the nick of time, Angelique changed her mind and undid the deed, removing the handkerchief from the toy soldier, and Barnabas miraculously recovered as though nothing at all had ever happened. Now taking this further still, I had been messing around with powers that went beyond even these fictional witch's junk on the television show. Between Privecode and Magnesonic all hooked up together with other inventions and other items bought at various electronic shops and places; I ad put a system together and was actually communicating directly, with the forces of this planet's biosphere itself, you would call this, LIGHTNING. I came to learn it was a female entity with a great intelligence, but was a young female and extremely mischievous. There are those who are out here reading my blogs who know just how totally real my words fucking are. They do all that they can to fuck with me, hack me, discredit me, discourage me, and ruin me, because should I ever get this exposed to the world, all the UFO shit put together and multiplied 88 ways back from Sunday noon, would be watered down piss flavored bug juice fro our summer camp days, folks; next to this ISIS GODDESS, from Gary-7 Mission Earth Star Trek, Serious Satellite radio and XM 'Exim Ratio' of the 'Permission Barrier', that I sent before any of their copycat junk was ever made known to the world, in 1994. Still this is nothing, I could go on a year typing how things all connect, and how I was ripped off on hundreds of things that many now take total credit for and of course, live in style with millions and billions, while I live in perpetual fucking ass poverty and jeers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But the real powerful shit is the great Lab Technician of the great book called, 'The Permission Barrier'', written about a decade to the day, that I had interacted with this wonderful Goddess ISIS, for the first of several times in this universe, and infinite times in infinite other close-in parallel ones, and on top of that, in infinity or on the Astral -Plane, where we live endlessly together in HER GREATY CITY, known by some few mortal world awake enlightened folks, spoken in English translation, SAHASRA DAL KANWAL, meaning Astrally, literally; CITY OF THE GREAT SARAH-STACEY KRASSLE, where there, she uses her CITY NAME of Jehovah. Everyone needs a registered city name to reside in this fantastic heavenly place. Without it, when caught illegally there a fourth time you are automaticly sentenced to a region known as DOGTOWN, so horrible that I could type torturous hellish nightmare words forever, and you would still need to experience this hellishness to have it register inside your awake brain, and then you would most likely go stark raving mad for the rest of your human existence. But while here in present life, unlike while here as Sarah Nurockey from Atlantic City in the sixties; ISIS has only a few scattered memories and dream fragments of her true all powerful identity in higher truth, just enough to let her know even as a tiny toddler, how special she is, and always will be, and knew all along that she would be a tremendously successful person in the physical world during this human incarnation. But a very strange man with very strange eyes, told me a powerful truth, two and a half years ago, when we got together on a holiday, to go see a local band perform, down along the Fort Pierce Inlet, right past the foot of the South Hutchinson Island Bridge, and the Coast Guard Station. After we got back in my vehicle and I was driving him home just west past the on-ramps for Interstate-95, and it's time to let it out. He said he has an invention that people from places all over the hyperspace are monitoring him so that he will not break the maximum for hyperspace travel alterations per trip. It seems there is an established average per-trip max out point for just how much you may do that may make alterations and create larger outward timeline expanses and more and more parallel realities as a result. Robert McGuire was the one managing this for this local area, don't even ask, the area would not make a lot of sense, it does not even remain stable. Now this man wears dark glasses, night and day, and if he takes them off, his eyes shine like two kit up huge sparkling gems inside his eye sockets. He is not a human being, and he lives right here in this town. He asked me if I had a few minutes to come in to where he lives in his own small dwelling on a large estate of farms just beyond the highway down west on Orange Avenue, and then to the north a bit. It is big, and his family is loaded. He does things that make no sense, and seems to have just what he needs, no more, no less, and although he is well into his fifties, he appears very young and has a full head of long bright yellow hair that is not dyed or faked, like my billionaire distant cuzz. Anyhow, I went in and he handed me a soda, and he said to me, I and some of the witnesses have read you on the web. Don't you know what happened? I said to him, ''What do you mean billy?''. He then said something along the lines of, you were teaching those who read your blogs how to do the Fascitar Ancient traveling, and the great Babylonian Goddess practiced it as a result, and then came to you in your ''dreams'' just as you taught her to do it. I thought I was gonna' fucking piss my pants and dropped the soda can down on his end table and starred at him for a while with my mind blown. Then he added just this and after that, asked me to go home and ponder on all of it. He said, ''She is the only one on this Earth that can ever take away your choking problem, but in order for her to do it, she'd have to come out and admit to being the Goddess ISIS. She won't do that for you, I know her, she is here to stay this time longer than ever before, about 85 years''. I asked if there is any advice he could give me, and he replied along the lines of, she's watching everything you do and hears all that you say, day and night, even in your thoughts, and you can never escape her, and she will never ever help you with your choking condition even though she is the only one in the world who fully knows it is all the truth and all of it is real and that you are not just some nut case. While I stood at his door and he was practically throwing me out at this int, telling me he had to be somewhere soon and needed to get ready; I said one more thing to him. I did not tell him all about the song from 1983 or my conversations I had while she was playing Lab Technician; but I said I might electronically make up some songs and smoke her out, using her voice, after all the same forces messed with her too, and this is what she seemed to be talking to me about in those wild medical office dreams in 2008. Then with practically a shove out the door, Billy retorted in a calm and less loud voice than earlier, ''I AM ISIS, I AM JESUS CHRIST, I AM SARAH NUROCKEY, all using the body right now of your friend Billy. He then took off his wild shades and stared into my eyes until they felt burnt as though I had just starred too long at the sun. He walked me to my car parked a few yards away from his door, leaving me ready to drop dead. His final words to me were, I will forget I told you any of this as Billy if we ever see each other again, Yancy. I climbed into my vehicle, and his words to me, after closing my car door, with the window down on the drivers front seat side; were along the lines of, you probably won't see me again and that might be for the best. If you play your little game with music, remember what your ADA friend told you when you phoned him from the park that day in the middle nineties? I had never told him a thing about that incident near National Park, Redbank, New Jersey late in th year of 1994, the end of October, when Ron Wirtz, the Camden County Prosecutor ADA told me from a pay phone where I had just called him from one late afternoon and told about how bad my enemies were and how seriously they were stalking me and violating my civil rights, and he said to me, ''Mark, if you test them, they're going to give you a reaction''. That is an honest direct quotation of what he told me that day 19 years ago. I said back to him after starting my car up and throwing it out of park and into drive, foot still on the brake pedal, ''Billy, what do you mean''? His answer was said while he was walking away from me towards his dwelling on this huge farm ranch property, that I again can quote as it hangs in my mind to this second like a pile of cement holding my feet into a vat of pig shit; ''You know what you can do and you know what they won't let you do, and you need to become a Jehovah's Witness and be under the umbrella of our church, and never again so much as think about any of these things again. With that he was gone and in his house behind a closed door, and I was driving slowly away and off of this ranch; all like something out of a movie like 'Mannix', 'Hitchcock', and 'L&O', all three rolled the fucking hell into one. I was going to get this shit off my chest sooner or later, and this was just the time that I knew I felt was right for doing so.

Now we are gonna' fucking talk some powerful turkey folks. I asked GAGA KITTY just way this assault struck me at just past fucking one this dam ass morning, and he said to me, ''MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW, PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER--------385''.

My match-book of listed items for this number are as follows, ladies and gentlemen, YO!!!!!!!!!!

HALLOWEEN DAY, CASSETTE TAPE, AREA FIFTY ONE, PEE, GOD, and there are some other less pertinent ones as well. The underlined two above are obvious to a retarded mother fucking moron imbecile, BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then folks, I also decided to ask a powerful question regarding another utility attack from back on the morning of pearl Harbor Day in late 1996. Let me explain, YO. The morning that I awoke out of a powerful DREAMIN G INTERACTION on the day of 7 December, 1996, where I was playing a game on 10-SC Avenue in Atlantic City with the great Sarah Krassle, that she called, “Guess the Name of the Guests'', I talked my mom into coming with me to 10-SC Avenue, and we drove down to Atlantic City, and just as I came up to where the Trump Plaza Casino area is on Pacific Avenue, the light burned me and turned red real suddenly, and when I stopped, a few seconds later, my car stereo in that vehicle was also struck with an attack from the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, out of the fucking blue and died. So after asking why this attack from just a couple hours back was given to me, I asked what this other attack from 1996 was all about. My GAGA KITTY CAT responded as follows:

''MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW, PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER------------------------------725''.

My match-book of listed items for this number are as follows, ladies and gentlemen, YO!!!!!!!!!!!

SAHASRA DAL KANWAL, FLORIDA, THE VOID, VERSION, 2008, SARAH KRASSLE SANG, CAREY CURLY EINSTEIN MESSAGE, and there are some other less pertinent ones as well. Again I underline those that are really major, not that they all aren't, BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How anyone can be a doubter in MORIANITY, should make the Almighty say, ''Gee whiz, now I don't feel so bad, Sharon Horror-House of HTHS!!!!!!!!

Why the WOMO-MILITUFORCE is so hell bent on my not ever doing anything at all in the field of music, must have something deeply rooted in both unnatural and yet unknown realities, or they would not make it their life fucking mission to stop every single mother fucking thing I ever try to do, WITH MUSIC. But all shit aside, they ARE doing this, and it seems, ALWAYS WILL, until I am fucking reduced to eventual fucking maggots. But I plan to go down swinging very very very fucking hard, my lovely transdimensional INGRID!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had fucking pastors and preachers tell me that SATAN was personally assaulting me for unknown reasons. Shit was going down around me that had no Earthly rational mother fucking explanation whatsoever. Then Jim Genius Burr told me that it all has something to do with my family. I thought that he was a total fucking fruitcake looney bird, BUT GUESS WHAT FOLKS, HE HAPPENED TO BE FUCKING 100% CORERECT, ALL ALONG, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOMO-MILITUFORCE SCUM SCUKING DIRT BAGS FROM HOT ASS HELL!!!

BURN IN HELL JAG OFFS!!

GO WASH YOUR HANDS.

Take away the family curse, and what is left to ponder about this thirty-first day of Bostonian weird sports motels, in either September or October? Oh that's right, only thirty days are in September, so tell the Chief, Maxwell Smart, for me; ''Sorry about that''! Still, a lot of powerful shit is in the reality of upline and downline, and you need not be a Tupperware or an Amway distributor, or a future software computer geek and friend of the Roth's; huh Style Court Judge? I really thought you would care that your cousin and his mom were brutally fucking murdered by Mister Jonathan Schau, of Rising Sun Avenue, in Philly; and go over to Drake Towers one night, and kick his old fat ugly ass, from one end of the building, to the other. When I say crap like in the upline world, all of this downline here and anything further downline all together endlessly, must always remain a sum total that is lesser than the smallest possible thing upline and above here; many really are not getting the experience. It's like talking about a super sound system verses hearing one, or watching the famous Vomit Comet on television and really riding and experiencing the thing. Take the numbers of 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 512, and 1024; for a quick example. Pick an area somewhere in the middle of this number group that endlessly doubles from the lowest possible mathematical integer of one. Let us randomly choose 16, 32, 64. If you go back down lower than the sixteen or the first number in this chosen group, you can go all the way to one, and add up all the numbers, and yet never will it equal or exceed the next doubling upline integer or the number 128. You can go down throughout infinity peeps, you know, after you get to one and it totals up to 127, you can keep adding, one half, one quarter, one eighth, endlessly adding half of the last number, and it NEVER EVER will equal that upline number of 128. You can take an 80 inch super seven grand top end high-def television set, and place a DVD or DVR picture onto it in full reality and splendid vividness and dazzling color, and there it is right before your eyes; a great mountain like the Himalayan Chain, or our own American Rocky Mountains, or Congressman 'Whatever Andrews'-teen; but it is still in all its beauty and splendor; smaller than your 80 inch television. There may be a video shot of the entire galaxy we live in, yet it exists inside of this fixed endless 80 inch diagonal screen. How about if we have a video similar to those horrible audio feedback loops we all have heard once or twice; only instead of the squealing loud high pitched sound from hell; we just see ourselves in our room, watching our wonderful 80 inch screen; and then inside of that, is another and another and another, endlessly? Did you know that I can prove to you in mathematics, that if you in fact make such a loop, the math insists that you are always at a center-line, and all the downlining videos that get endlessly smaller, are balanced by out beyond you, where a you from another upline, in which an entire universe, where our entire universe is smaller than the smallest possible item in theirs; is a you with their 80 inch screen that is just displaying you and all the you's downline below that, and that above this upline you is an infinite amount of higher uplines as well, all displaying their next downlines? Continuing the topic of upline-downline reality, and mathematical equations, that support this wild shit; YO. Start with one or any fraction of one, and double it until you are in the trillions; and add up each of the units, and you will never be able to quite reach the next doubled number above the one that lays directly below the one that you stopped on. The real 'brain breaker', Roger Whatshappening, is this: All the way at infinity, the two numbers going lower as well as higher, actually connect up together, and this point of unimaginable connection, becomes something even more unbelievable. It becomes one dimension spatially higher, than the one that all the numbers below it, all existed on. Shit like this does not get taught in most math classes in Ivy League Universities. This is why folks do not know about or understand the mind realm of the sixth dimension, and how it literally holds itself out beyond its lower dimension; the hyperspace or the fifth dimension of virtually limitless four dimensional space-time universes. This is how on the sixth dimension, we get the equation known as STM or Space-Time-Mind, as below this point, and just as the mighty Einstein said, it is all just Space-Time, but when we raise the Lawtronic reality to its ultimate point, and begin to see how all things are an endless line until they eventually at infinity, carry too much weight, to remain straight; and they bend down, and loop around; and close up into circles, that this is why all things are in circles, orbits, spheres, and so forth; even in our little world of the here and now. But does somebody actually need to go out into the expansion around the Earth, or outer space; in order to cause STME (SPACE-TIME-MIND-EFFECT), ONE MIGHT EVENTUALLY COME TO SERIOUSLY WONDER? The answer, I promise you from personal experience, is an unequivocal NO! Most of the time, you hear me discuss things when one becomes aware of what DREAMS, HYPERSPACE, and EXPLORATRONS, are really all about; and how this can cause H-S-E or HYPER-SPACE-EFFECT. But any disruption from normally running time, causes this. When you drive 50 miles per hour, or just run 15 miles per hour, or just walk 2 miles per hour; you are not at 0. Only 0 is still, where then, you are at an atomicly precise accurate measurement, inside of 'regular time'; and any movement at all; will then place you into movement-effected or non-regular-time. It may be so miniscule that no human in a trillion years could ever begin to measure or witness the effect; but it is there, none the less. If your consciously aware mind, was somehow accelerated one billion times, from where it should be; living here on a world where it takes light or time's reflection, one seventh of one second, to go around this world; you would not be able to physically move. It would take way more than your strength level could ever be; just to move in the tiniest imaginable increments. If you were to suddenly move eleven point eight inches in one second's time; your mass would equal infinity. If you could speed up your conscious mind another thousand times or so; it would begin to merge with infinity itself; and you would be on the sixth dimension, which is why the speed of light, ''is what it is'', god help me; but I truly must quote the great Dawn King here, on that. Seeing this, if you ever could; would permit you to then reverse-think, and see how all orbits everywhere, and all parts of you; are one and the same truth; and that you and gravity itself are really the very same thing, but in a dream state; you can individualize in an illusion, called material physical life; here in the hyperspace of five dimensions. I know this is all Greek to my readers, in their conscious waking mind, but as you read this; you will come closer, in your deeper realer and truer, YOU, to understanding the truths about me, and MORIANITY-FOUNDATION, and all the hell I suffer through at the hands of the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL, and the one third, evil dark part of it, known Astrally; as the Lambriggers.

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 RIGHT NEXT TO THOSE LITTLE FREAKING BULLETS.

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??????????????

WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY, ….....

''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.

WEATHER MAP IS COURTESY OF THE WEATHER BUG SYSTEM AND LOCAL TV-12

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.

Advisory Colors Key
	Winter Storm Watch
	Flood Warning
	Non-Precipitation Advisory
	Flood Statement

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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HELP ME PEE, YOU'VE BEEN OUT OF HERE SINCE MARCH 29, and now it is NOVEMBER 12.

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!

Come on PEE, where are you?

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 Richmond Avenue, in South Atlantic City; Dad!

MARK WAYNE MOHR OF MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3:

_{O—H S—H—I—T FOLKS, THIS IS ONLY GETTING STARTED. THE ONE PERSON WHO CAN VINDICATE ME WON'T, LOVELY TRAVELER ISIS, GEE, WHAT A WONDERFUL TREE ANGEL FROM JACOBSON COOLEY HALL, MISTER MAYOR'S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!}

I'M DEAD ASS SERIOUS TOO, WOMO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Me and my shadow huh, oh well, wash your hands, Shadow Man of the 1984 Copyright Office. AHA-AHA-AHA MIKE MCNULTY FROM 1971. I was going to save this for later, but now I am telling this right now, SINCE SHIT IS SO DANGEROUSLY BAD FOR ME RIGHT NOW. They know Diana cannot protect me, and has been slowly fading away around me and has been, and will not be around again any time soon. These fucking monsters have totally altered and somehow magically destroyed my hurricane attacks ever since the Katrina Hurricane Season a number of years back. There really is no more hurricane season, it is all a total joke, as I have been in fucking Florida for nearly four mother fucking years, and can say it openly, IT ALL IS JUST MEDIA HYPE, ALL OF IT, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!! WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!

PEOPLE ARE ALL TOTALLY MOTHER FUCKING NUTS. The entire mother fucking world has gone insane. Nothing has been normal since I died and WENT TO FUCKING HELL, back on August fifteenth of 1986, and recently this hell is going right off the charts bonkers. This is what I was going to tie in, but I need to be careful, as time is catching up with me, Dave Sleazespeas, AND HYPERSPACE IS ALSO GOING INTO RAPID PRINT THROUGH, ESPECIALLY OVER THE PAST FEW WEEKS AND MONTHS; AND IT APPEARS TO BE ON SOME WILD PARABOLIC COURSE OF INCREASE.

Al Jolson knows perfectly well that none of you has heard anything yet, so keep right on following along, or don't, your gain, or your loss, I promise, WOMO.

_{This FLORIDA SHIT has been total fucking HELL!}

_{Time to toss this bullshit right into the cosmic 'L&O' trashcan!!}

MORIANITY-FOUNDATION OF 2006

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

GO WASH YOUR HANDS

TOO MUCH BAGGAGE!!!

_{GO WASH YOUR HANDS}

_{GO WASH YOUR HANDS}

_{GO WASH YOUR HANDS}

_{GO WASH YOUR HANDS}

_{GO WASH YOUR HANDS}

_{GO WASH YOUR HANDS}

_{GO WASH YOUR HANDS}

_{GO WASH YOUR HANDS}

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOU ARE READING ''GO WASH YOUR HANDS'', CHAPTER 10. PLEASE HAVE A VERY NICE DAY, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MY DAY, AS ALWAYS; TOTALLY FUCKING SUCKS, YO !!!!!

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

_{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. How would any of fucking you like it if one day you woke up fucked up through no fault of your own, and began slowly piecing together a story that tells your truth and your reality, that all the textbooks ever written in psychiatry all insist, that believing this powerful indisputable evidence, makes you a crazy insane person filled with psychotic features and delusions? Well, one thing you would do, knowing you are not being permitted to work anywhere by this invisible stealthy mother fucking covert enemy; you would get onto SOCIAL SECURITY DISABILITY, and at least force these enemies to pay you each month, for causing this problem with you, in the first place. Well YO, I did that, kind folks!!!!!}

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HERE'S THE FUCKING RUN AWAY BULL CHART GINA, BUT REMEMBER SWEET GIANT THING YO, THE REAL SHIT STARTED WHEN I ADDED TALENT INTO THE TECHNO-POP SHIT, ON THE 28 AUGUST DAY. I DO NOT ALWAYS TELL THE WORLD, OR MY BLOGAUD, EVERY LITTLE FUCKING DETAIL IN MY LIFE, AND WHAT I AM UP TO. THIS IS FUCKING WAR, AND DOING THIS IN WAR, WILL GET A SOLDIER KILLED AT THE SPEED OF FUCKING LIGHT. JUST ASK THE MILITARY POWERS OF THIS PLANET, ANYONE; YOU JUST GO ASK THEM!!!

A CHILD CAN MATCH THE PERSECTUION I GET WITH THESE CHARTS FROM THE FUCKING CUNT EATING STOCK ILLEGAL MANIPULATED ICPE-APE- MARKETS. A RUNNY NOSED PUNK OF AGE 4 CAN SEE THIS!!!

THE ENDLESS 1986 NIGHTMARE BETWEEN THE DJIA AND ME, AND I AM GETTING MOTHER FUCKING SUPER SICK OF THIS MOTHER FUCKING SHIT, PEEPS!

First, I had no intention of letting Avalon Bonjovi get away with that stunt they pulled on me, so I struck back hard and put together lots of shit that I used to have years ago, and combined it all into my Mickey Mouse little system here, a huge pile of junk really, but it is the secret knowledge that creates the technology, not the billion fucking dollar Trump entertainment Studios and machines. If you don't know this, you don't know major truths about inventors, creators, thinkers in originality, and the world of audio. Only the system the final product is played back on needs to cost a million to sound pop concert ready, what's recorded to be played through it or any cheap system, is apples and oranges, if not flowers and skyscrapers. With the new world of digital and CD recorders costing a couple hundred dollars on a good sale, my finished products can go through my system and be converted to CD after a very unique personal mastering system, my own invention; and then can be burned into the computer Windows Media Player files. I would not care so much or have such a bug up my ass with so many things, but WHEN SOMEONE CAPTAIN, OR SOMETHING, SIR; endlessly seems to be going to such infinite and incredible trouble AND BEYOND EXTREME LENGTHS, just to keep me from doing stuff, WELL, THE American in my blood MAKES ME DO IT ALL THE MORE, AND JUST KEEP RIOGHT ON FUICKING FIGHTER ALL THE HARDER, ATCO MUSIC CURSE BATHTUBS AND ALL, but this is only where shit starts getting fucking real good, good folks, YO BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW, this is just the crumbs off of the banquet table, Mike AHA-AHA-AHA McNulty. I PROMISE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now as stated on an earlier recent blog folks, I have both a track with just these harmony vocals generated from my great Lab-Technician of 1984, and then I have a track of the completed final mix-down music, from the now defucked/defunct Avalon Recording Studio, now Bonjovi Entertainment Corporation, in Port Saint Lucie, Florida. Some of you may just remember the start of this year as well as before the Christmas fucking helliday-holiday season of twenty-twelve, and the incident with the powerful dreams of my engineer Ryan while he was with his 'family' supposedly in New Jersey, where both he and the big boss hail from just as I do; and the cigarette thing, and the rotten job and eventual close down of the place, or said a lot better, and definitely a lot fucking quicker; another 'Mark Wayne Mohr SOSO-WEIN', (Same Old Same Old-What Else Is New)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He had enough garbage in that studio to put a lot more talent into the vocals, and was planning to do this after returning first from New York City and then a visit with his family for the holiday season, only it never happened. It would have taken a couple of hours to do one of the four bars a hell of a lot better, and then this would be used all four times in the fucking song, we all know what's being said without saying it, a completed KFP system that is still in the construction process would sample numerous bytes from other songs, and artificially learn the way the words an d notes need to phrase out musically, this is called, techno-pop talent reproduction, and no one has a program as good as what I used back in the days when things were all done by wild plug and cord connections and various effect machines in-between the recorder and the amps. It would have taken some time to make the final fourth word to move all around in harmonious blends, and then make four more tracks and put them both a barely noticeable amount of microseconds ahead as well as behind the main track, at equal volumes most of the time, occasionally riding the gain manually here an there, and there are a million ways to do all this longhand, but it is time consuming, so he gave me a rotten job, after telling me he was going to really work this thing for me. But this was NOT the same Ryan that had promised to do this for me before leaving in the autumn about thirteen months ago, for the north. That Ryan was very proud of himself for quitting his smoking and told me he was finished forever with it, and was now using the electronic blue cigarette system. That was the Ryan that would have come back and done a super job for me instead of piece of garbage. Engineering is everything, and especially in a techno-pop creation. I know I expect a lot, but that is because I know what can be done when you ride all the effects and all the levels and do a totally perfect job. Otherwise, when working with a speaking voice, all you are doing is pitching it musically, and only three notes of music range or so, will come close to sounding similar to the true singing voice from the sampled source, in the case of my project, the introduction part. I will complete a tremendous machine, and I will complete 'KFP', the ultimate music computer keyboard system, but as of now, what works once, does not work the next day, it is sensitive and has a mind of its own, and was originally meant to operate totally and only, with analogue audio equipment. Why the WOMO-MILITUFORCE is so hell bent on my not ever doing anything at all in the field of music, must have something deeply rooted in both unnatural and yet unknown realities, or they would not make it their life fucking mission to stop every single mother fucking thing I ever try to do, WITH MUSIC. Now with my lab-tech, this is fair game. This was a conversation between US in 1984, and although recording on the telephone is illegal, I'll admit, fine YO, then how about if everybody comes clean about everything? When it all is balanced out and said and done, I might do a couple years in a federal fucking pen, but when I get out, the owners of this world will be legally liable to cut me a fucking check for about eighty billion US dollars, for all the shit that's been stolen from me, and illegally used without my permission, and on and on an don I could go for a week of typing without stopping for a glass of piss juice!!!!!!!!!!!!! also, because the voice was when she was only 14 and not 20, it is not under contract by anyone, or even legally owned, not even by wonderful her. Still, I see this nasty ass little butt wipe three inch jet and chemtrail off to the south while driving out of Mikey's driveway to head home, and get down the road and play the tape of a more improved mix-down, just a fraction of what I can eventually do, but is a real head turner, not like the garbage I sent to the Copyright Office back on the fucking third day of July, but let me get back again to the cigarette thing as this fits so powerfully into shit, it honestly, without this added into things, would be like trying to make a thermonuclear device without any knowledge of atomic fission whatsoever, or trying to eat a dozen apples in five minutes with no teeth and sore infected gums. It's just not fucking happening, BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!

MORIANITY-FOUNDATION

GO WASH YOUR HANDS, CONTINUES:

Well, that mother fucking enemy WOMO M-2-F jet from late Sunday afternoon or early evening, wiped out my property. All destruction of my property, covertly done by this cunt lapping scum bag MILITUFORCE; always causes days and days of a MAJOR FUCKING DOW JONES BULLISH FUCKING MARKET, and here we go, and THIS IS JUST THE FUCKING BEGINNING, and yes my lovely nineties GINA, I BELIEVE I SAID, ''I TOLD YOU SO'', AND OTHERS TOO.

HERE IS WHAT THESE COCK LICKING DIRTY BASTARD VOMIT SWALLOWING TOILET SEAT ROCKERS DID. At first, I thought that only the new tape would not play on the normal forward mode side, for those that even have a small clue what I am speaking about, and that are old enough to remember the old style cassette tape recording days; and the feature that some upper end decks quite often came with, called 'auto-reverse'.

When I left Mikey's place up on the island and began driving away and down the road, even before I turned onto the road and made a right out of there onto A1A, or Ocean Boulevard, same fucking diff; I observed behind me and to the south, as I was heading northbound towards the bridge back to the mainland where from there it is a mere few blocks to my Public Housing Authority Building, sir, Sheriff Mascara, and others who just might care a smidgen about me and how my rights have been and still are continually being viciously violated, for 30-50 years give or dam ass take; what I have labeled a 'THUMB-IN-THE-ASS CHEMTRAIL. You've all seen them, you look up, and there it is. It looks like it's an inch or maybe a few inches long, and keeps moving ever slowly in one direction or another; never vanishing, yet never leaving a long tail-trail; just a tiny little shit ass thing, sort of like some jerk off who doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, and has one finger up one nostril, and his other thumb stuck right up his rotten stenchy asshole. This event is too coincidental, just as mother fucking sportscaster Yogi Berra used to say so often, to be a coincidence; as half a minute later; my car fucking stereo system was wrecked, somehow; and just because I don't fucking cunt know exactly how, does not make this unreal, or my sicko deluded fantasy, BRO. I don't know how the Apollo Astronauts got to the moon; but I do know that they did; and I saw the first lunar landing on a little fucking ass black and white cunt lapping TV set; at 125-A Haddon Hills Apartments, in Westmont, New Jersey, USAESMWG; when I returned on the twentieth evening in July in 1969, from the bitches and the beaches of Atlantic fucking City. I don't know the workings in any real educated detail, of the automotive internal combustion engine, and I don't understand how the transmission works either, in any meaningful total way; despite working at a transmission factory, rebuilding certain pieces of them, along with a hundred other drones and sheeple, for minimum wage, and aggravation, and grief, in no lacking abundance; back in the autumn of 1976. Yeah fantasy mom, I had a really great job. Now there was a dreamer, or maybe it was merely literary license, as what I did for a fucking living, was not in any way germane to her story on suicide attempts in general, and her wiped out office romance. Folks, just because I don't always know the full details on how this is all being done, you know fucking what, YO? I'd be willing to make a bet with anyone of you out here reading these words on your multimedia system, whatever it might be; that right there in your own lives, every one of you without exception, has a minimum of five things in your life, that you cannot rationally sit down and fully explain the YYYYYYYY of it all. Well; so move over YO; I can't either, and none of us are destined to ever die in the fucking Lonely-Hearts Club, BRAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Now the first part of whatever it was that this evil dirt fucking bag WOMO-MILITUFORCE did to me, seemed to cause just the one new cassette, that I had made a copy of my techno-pop 1983 re-done 2012 song, not play, unless it was played in the auto-reverse mode of the car system. This is merely the system that came with the car, a Dodge-Neon car, 2004 year, ordinary every day sedan, 4-door type of model; with a regular factory model car stereo system. I got this out of the way right off the bat, so that no one thinks I have anything unusual for a car audio system. It is total normal factory parts; what came standard with this exact vehicle, unless customers wanted something better, and were willing to pay extra for that. One by one, I am eliminating things. Now the sky was totally quiet after not being for a number of days, on this particular day; and then out of nowhere, comes this totally monster ass menacing thumb in the ass trail. Then as I said, just 30 seconds give or take a few, later on; boom, this problem began in my car audio system. So next and finally, comes not Social Security Disabled Nutcase Credibility-Zero Mountainpen, but the famous saying of a world known celebrity, and sportscaster, from a while back; and was quoted earlier on. Well, I agree, as this just simply all happened out of a 'clear blue sky', Mister Berra, SIR; and 'thank you'; Hurricanetapes Pat Robertsphony Exboss, YO!!!!!!!!!

So what happened when I went out to pay my rent, and check my bank balance; and then do a couple of small local errands; that pertains to all of this today? Well; let me tell you all, good people. Well, I made another tape copy from the master re-mix, and I also brought with me, two other randomly selected cassettes, of both music and spoken word material; just in case any more funny business was in the plans of evil cosmos. Sure and shore enough good folks, lots more was indeed lurking in the Lagocci dungeons of Delaney vampires and old horror flicks of yesteryear Hollywood. Microsucks Lagoons and gorgeous teenaged Brook Bikini Shields, is all working its normal operations, by not revealing to me, the proper way to spell the name of a once great horror-film actor, the original Jonathan Frid so to speak. Aniwho, MCMC and all other non MC's, as we said quite frequently before things escalated into Washcloth-Washburn's, Watson Clues; and lovely Jennifer and Tiffany Social Workers, of the twenty-Marola-oh years; let's move this along with the car system being busted, and of course; the ever shooting up of the rocket ship stock fucking market, as a direct APE-ICPE-RESULT, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Give me a break Lisa and Mariah, TEE-HEE-HEE.

I no sooner began playing other cassette tapes today while out on my errands, on my car system, and boom, now, ALL OF THE FUCKING TAPES WON'T PLAY ON THE FORWARD SIDE. At this rate, I already mother fucking know that any day now, if not the very next time I try to use my fucking car radio/tape player; tapes won't play at fucking all, in either directional mode. Getting an old style system somewhere, and installed; will be a huge fucking hassle for me; and the enemies know that; so this is a very fucking easy prediction for me to make, Mizz Bondi, Florida Attorney General, and FBI; and others out here, whether you give a rotten hell about poor persecuted me or not. I'm still gonna' scream out for your fucking help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Get used to it, please, TANKS, and BOOM! Now I'll re-tell the story of the Atco, New Jersey-1983-MUSIC CURSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You'll get real wet reading this one, YO BRRRRRRRRRRRR! I promise.

I was working on a way to infect, like programs today infect computer software, and this has indeed been blogged before on several occasions by me, folks; tapes, then tape machines, then more tapes, and so on, just as today's software virus's cause harm. Many peeps had ripped off a lot of my material and thought it was funny, and I was just a big joke to be fucked with; and even the © Office was in on it, and still are. I sent 4 songs down on one tape, and used one copyright form, in the summer time of 1980 from my 1802 Robin Hill Apartments, Voorhees, New Jersey address; and if you study the forms that I post on many blogs; they let the fucking BEEGEE's get away with a horrific crime against me, because they were big and I was nobody. Someday somehow, from a foreign port, I vowel not to die until I get my vengeance for all this criminal behavior against me, and get my total vindication, and deserved fucking justice. Lenny Crooked McKinnon came to mind while watching the Judge Judy Show tonight on MY-15 Television at 7:00, before the 3-hour L&O-SVU began. This is because a similar rip off con man had done something crooked to someone in a similar and music-related way, on the show. Wow could I fucking relate, lovely Judy, keep humming, I love it, girl! This is one cool show. But last night, I was already sitting in front of my TV watching the exact show that I never saw before in case it is old and was a re-run. When it was over, the same amount of money involved, was being handed to some real dirt bag, by me, and he was laughing at me. Interesting in the show, if you add up those two figures, that 65 number is very very powerful in my life, not just with Middle Road in the Bluecran House of Horrors, but the Dow Jones fell down into the 65 hundred's before my wonderful politician friends decided to refund the wealthy crooks. Oh sure, give it all to them Mister President; and cut my food stamps down to 15 from 16 dollars. I just HOPE ALL OF YOU WAHINGTONIANS CAN REALLY FUCKING SLEEP WELL AT NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Folks, I'll just say this much. I do plan on escaping this evil country, and telling what has been done to me someday, to an audience that is truly and earnestly desirous of hearing my pathetic tale of woe, and how phony this evil empire really is, and I do plan to create a MUSIC CURSE, and wipe out the entire industry. You stole my life, you stole my music, you stole my only fucking daughter; and you can all burn in 2020 census hell; your hell, when I come clean, and it all comes out, PUBLICLY, BILLY GRAHAM, PUBLICLY, YO!!! ********** GO WASH YOUR HANDS!!!!!

FOLKS, IT IS NOW TIME TO

GO WASH YOUR HANDS.

SLAM SLAM SLAM, DOORS DOORS DOORS, AT MOTHER FUCKING 11:12 PM ON 11/12/13. 911 TIME IF THIS PARTY SHIT WITH THIS IDIOT BOZO NEXT DOOR KEEPS GOING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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

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

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

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

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JOHN J CROWLEY , Mister Tow-truck Ripoff dude from 1979, WOW, where did it all really begin?

Nearby Offender: Thomas Giordano »

John J Crowley's entire criminal record

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

Last Known Address: 1201 ROBERTS WAY, VOORHEES, NJ, 08043
Race:	White
Sex:	Male			Eyes:	Blue
Height:	6'0			Hair:	Brown
Weight	205 lbs.			Age/DOB:	4/12/1947

Offense or Statute

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

Alias(es)

JOHN CROWLEY:JOHN H SPROWL

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Voorhees Township, NJ

5 Offenders Found

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	Atlantic County GovernmentDEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC SAFETY Youth Detention, Harborfields

DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC SAFETY YOUTH DETENTION Buffalo Ave. & Duerer St. Egg Harbor City, NJ 609-965-3583 609-965-7962 (FAX) Kimery Lewis, Superintendent Wayne Ford, Assistant Superintendent Program Description Mission Statement Program Goals Primary Services Admission Criteria Visiting Hours Dept. of Public Safety Home Page YOUTH DETENTION - HARBORFIELDS

PROGRAM DESCRIPTION Harborfields operates under the auspices of the County of Atlantic, Department of Public Safety and is managed, under contract, by the State of New Jersey, Department of Law and Public Safety, Juvenile Justice Commission. Harborfields is located on Buffalo Avenue and Duerer Street in the City of Egg Harbor, New Jersey. The Program serves male and female juveniles between the ages of 12 and 18 awaiting court review for disposition, trial or other court action. The facility has 8 secure beds for females and 19 secure beds for males. MISSION STATEMENT Harborfields provides a secure, safe, clean and healthy environment for court-detained youth. The dedicated staff of Harborfields are consistent, tolerant individuals who work as team players. Leading by example, the staff is able to provide to difficult youth much needed self-discipline, respect for self and others and personal responsibility. Through education and rehabilitation, emotional support, stability and structure, the youth at Harborfields are dealt with as individuals. At Harborfields the program prepares its youth to reenter the community or to enter into Juvenile Justice Commission programs. With the use of effective treatment methods, Harborfields is making a difference in the lives of youth. PROGRAM GOALS Harborfields meets the needs of the community as a secure facility for juveniles who have been deemed unsuitable for release pending court appearance. Harborfields also works to stabilize juveniles by structuring their day with educational activities. PRIMARY SERVICES 1. Counseling Component - Guided Group Interaction is conducted daily by two staff for approximately 1 hour per session. Individual Counseling is provided as needed by staff social workers. 2. Academic Education, Special Education and GED preparation are provided by the Atlantic County Special Services School District with the expectation that youth will return to the regional public school or transitional school. 3. Drug and Alcohol Counseling as well as Narcotics Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous sessions are provided through the County Youth Services Commission, as needed. 4. Recreation and Athletics are conducted in the facility gymnasium by the Physical Education Teacher provided by the Atlantic County Special Services School District. 5. Sex Education and Parenting classes are provided by an on-site Program Specialist. 6. Community involvement is maintained through special events which include speakers such as the Mayors of Atlantic City and Egg Harbor, members of the police department, and people from other walks of life. 7. In House Detention Program - The facility manages a 10 slot program which places youth onhouse arrest under the shared supervision of parents and detention officers. The intention is to have the youth continue in usual community activities pending court appearance. ADMISSION CRITERIA Upon arrest, a juvenile must be seen by Juvenile Intake for determination of detainable offense which would result in the youth being remanded to Harborfields. VISITING HOURS Sunday 1:00 PM - 3:00 PM - Family & Friends Thursday 7:00 PM - 8:00 PM - Parents Only Visitation Requirements: Visitors must present proper ID Visitors under 18 must be accompanied by an adult. No former residents are allowed to visit. Special visits available upon request, with approval of the Superintendent.

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Mountainpen’s Blog

Just another WordPress.com weblog

---

« MORIANITY-2 OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, JWC2, DAY 00007, BLOG-C

MEET CRACKPOT MOUNTAINPEN NEBNOOSHOO, OH YEAH, RIGHT

WFMU’s Beware of the Blog

OH YES, BY ALL MEANS, WATCH OUT FOR THAT HORRIBLE MARK WAYNE MOHR, WHAT A MONSTER. YEAH, THIS WHOLE THING WAS MY FAULT SINCE DAY ONE HUH, WELL, LIKE THE INMATES ALL SAY WHEN YOU ASK THEM IF ANY OF THEM ARE GUILTY OF THE CRIME THAT PUT THEM IN PRISON, “LIE-LIE-LIE-LIE-LIE-LIE”. So you can believe the liars, or you can believe me.

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« Classical Jew’s Harp Music (MP3s) | Main | “If You Do Not Like, Buy a Record By the Caetano and Do Not Bother Us, Fuck You." December 12, 2006, More Crackpots- Meet Mark from NJ (MP3), MORE OF THESE HATS ARE AROUND THE AREA OF FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA. READ SAFE JOURNAL BLOGS AROUND THE 500-600 CHAPTER NUMBER RANGE, AND THEN CLICK ON AN OLD REMADE SONG FROM 1983, WOW MISTER MACY, IS THIS THE FIRST TRUMP, THE LAST TRUMP, OR THE MARK OF THE BEAST, AS INDEED, 1+2+3+4 ALL THE WAY UP TO +36 WILL INDEED EQUAL 666, GEE REALLY, COPYIGHT OFFICE OF 1988? HAY, IT IS ALL DOWN THERE FOR THE RECORD. YOU CAN CLICK HERE FOR MORE, ONLY BELEIVE THIS FOLKS, THE MOUNTAINPEN NEVER TITLED ANYTHING, “THE MEANING OF LIFE”, SOMEONE MUST HAVE ADDED ALL OF THIS TO THEIR DEGRADED COPY TAPES, FROM WHAT WAS STOLEN WHEN THEY BOOSTED MY CAR STEREO AT NORTHEAST PHILL’S FRIENDLY RESTAURANT ON THE ROOSEVELT BOULEVARD IN THE FRIKKIN NINETIES. ALL I EVER DID WAS SAY, AND I’LL QUOTE, FROM 1983, “GIRL, I’LL TELL YOU ANYTHING”, SO CLICK HERE:

http://youtu.be/Vqg3oty0JMU

At the risk of being pigeonholed as the Girl Who Writes About Crazy Cursing Dudes, I bring you Mark from New Jersey. Mark has far-ranging theories on time travel, Armageddon, roulette and Donna Summer (the DEVIL!), which he angrily discusses in various telephone conversations.

Station Manager Ken clued me in to this fella recently. He was given a CD called “The Meaning of Life.” The back copy states that it was made from a cassette found on the side of the road bearing the same title. He’s really difficult to listen to, for a couple of reasons- The recordings only capture Mark’s side of the conversation and they seem to have been recorded either by a microphone placed somewhere in the room or possibly while Mark was standing outside on a windy day. More importantly, he is insane. Completely, violently insane.

Mark claims to be both a time traveler and a descendant of King David. His family will bring about the apocalypse through the activation of the Christ Android, currently dormant inside the 12 Planet. And also that the 50 richest families in the world are trying to do him in. Covertly, of course. Also against him is Donna Summer, the Devil. (Whether he means the disco Donna Summer, or WFMU’s own Jason Forrest isn’t clear.)

Here then, are three selections from Mark’s version of reality:

Interdimensional Technology (MP3) Android & Angel (MP3) 12th Planet (MP3)

If you need more Mark from NJ, Aquarius Records would be happy to sell you a cd-r.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go cover my windows with aluminum foil.

Posted by Listener Therese on December 12, 2006 at 01:28 AM in Audio Mysteries, MP3s, New Jersey, Religion | Permalink

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Comments

“The recordings only capture Mark’s side of the conversation…”

I don’t think any existing recording device on this earth could have captured the other side, although Mark may disagree.

Posted by: Goyim in the AM | December 12, 2006 at 02:42 AM

…the link for “Android & Angel” is screwed up. Y’all may want to fix it…

Posted by: King Daevid MacKenzie | December 12, 2006 at 04:01 AM

Sorry about that! I just fixed it.

Posted by: Listener Therese | December 12, 2006 at 09:02 AM

I think this guy is the *real* New Jersey Devil. Look at his horns and christ-blocking shades.

Posted by: Steve PMX | December 12, 2006 at 12:03 PM

Sweet Jesus, my PoMo-radar is beeping. And a nice performance. He could be real, I’ve known folks like him.

Posted by: K. | December 12, 2006 at 12:52 PM

Just sounds like someone responding to internal stimuli, there are many people like this probably an hour’s drive from anyplace in the Northeast. How is this different than getting enjoyment watching a man with a club foot trying to walk?

Posted by: bartelby | December 12, 2006 at 11:14 PM

Hello My name is Chris Arter I am 25 and I live in New Jersey. As a child I found two tapes made by this guy, years apart from each other. They were both 90 minutes long. I only have one now. They feature folk songs and disco songs. He never mentions his name but I found out his full name is Mark Wayne Mohr and he was born in 1954 by looking up material that he mentions he copyrighted on the cassette. I’ve had this tape for about 14 years and have never been able to find anything on him except his name and the names of other copyrighted material that he has registered. Some of his songs are actually pretty nice. And the tape like you describe only captures his side of a conversation with a 7’7″ tall fellow named shorty. Bar none still the most entertaining 90 minutes I’ve ever experienced.

Posted by: Chris Arter | March 06, 2007 at 06:27 PM

I clicked on the Aquarius link to find Mark from NJ’s CDR, but it was no longer listed.

Posted by: maledoro | August 07, 2007 at 06:54 AM

Aaah, very happy to get some info on this guy! One of his recordings has been used on the track “The Christ Android”, on the album “Memory Hole” by Kevin Moore (of Chroma Key, and ex-Dream Theater keyboardist). That’s what prompted me to find out what this nonsense single-sided argument was all about. Thanks a lot!

Posted by: Fairlight | September 22, 2008 at 02:34 PM

I’ve been researching this guy. He lives in Hammonton NJ, a couple towns away from me. One of my friends also found a tape of his (about 10 years ago). Mark is a hardcore blogger writing under the handle Mountainpen. He’s got some seriously out there ideas.

Posted by: Ghostlight | October 30, 2008 at 08:19 PM

I’ve been researching this guy. He lives in Hammonton NJ, a couple towns away from me. One of my friends also found a tape of his (about 10 years ago). Mark is a hardcore blogger writing under the handle Mountainpen. He’s got some seriously out there ideas.

Posted by: Ghostlight | October 30, 2008 at 08:21 PM

I’ve been researching this guy. He lives in Hammonton NJ, a couple towns away from me. One of my friends also found a tape of his (about 10 years ago). Mark is a hardcore blogger writing under the handle Mountainpen. He’s got some seriously out there ideas.

Posted by: Ghostlight | October 30, 2008 at 08:25 PM

http://mountainpen.wordpress.com/

Posted by: Goyim in the AM | February 24, 2009 at 05:04 PM

Hi. I got to this page while reading about music played on the ‘Jews Harp’. I’ve been searching, for a loooong time, for a song that was played one lazy August afternoon on WFMU, around 1980, or earlier.

It was a rendition of ‘My Favorite Things. The vocals of the main melody were accompanied by only a Jews Harp (…”Whiskers on Kittens, etc…”) And when it came to the chorus, it was sung monotone, by several voices…very weird, slowly, dragging, groaning (‘theeeese aaaaare aaaaa feeeeewwww of myyyyy faaaaavoooriiiite”.

When it got to “Things”, it was sung in a kind of higher, psycho-sounding, very melodic voice, like celebrating the word ‘things’.

Is there anyone here who knows and appreciates WFMU, who might know what the song title and author was, or how I can get a copy of it?

It’s been so long, and I’ve found every other weird and funny song I’ve ever heard except for this one.

On that same show on WFMU, they also Played Godley & Creme’s ‘Sandwiches of You’

I’ve listened to hundreds of versions of ‘My favorite Things’, and it wasn’t any of those.

Thanks, for any help. Please feel free to e-mail me, if you can. giotkr at earthlink dot net

Posted by: Tony NYC | May 14, 2009 at 10:44 PM

This fella is MOST DFEFINATELY for real! A friend of mine roomed with him for awhile at his home in Blue Anchor, NJ, and said Mark screamed and yelled into a phone that was off the hook, non-stop, for days on end. He believes lightning is a Goddess named Sarah Krassel, and that the Atlantic Ocean is the Goddess Stacy. Moreover, he is convinced that the Kennedy family, in conjunction with the Carey family(Mariah and them), in conjunction with the Trump and NJ Callio family, are conjointly conspiring to kill him, using black-op helicopter missions, spraying his immediate air space with chem-trails, and sending Atlantic City-residing life gaurds and bar tenders stealing into the night, waiting to catch him off-gaurd. The only problem being that he lives in Ft. Pierce, FL now, but still believes they’re out there. You can google “MOUNTAINPEN” to catch up on his latest blogs.

Posted by: Razzy McThaxton | March 16, 2012 at 09:00 AM

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