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WASH YOUR HANDS, CHAPTER 8
2:41
ANTE' MERIDIAN, 8 NOVEMBER, 2013, FRIDAY
Jupiter,
Florida, welcomes you to Morianity; Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.
Folks,
I AM UNDER A MOTHER FUCKING MAJOR ATTACK AND OF COURSE, AS A RESULT,
I AM FUCKING SUPER BOTBAR!!!!!!!! At precisely five minutes past shit
eating one this cunt sniffing MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING, I was major
struck with yet another UTILITY ATTACK from the dirt bag scum sucking
WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!! The phone was right in front of me and is a
desk top landline type phone, and suddenly the red light began
blinking and a message displayed on it, saying, 'LINE
IN USE'. I am heading later today over to make an
appointment at Sheriff Mascara's Office,
on Midway fucking Road. I HAVE FUCKING TOTALLY ASS HAD IT WITH THIS
CIVIL RIGHTS VIOLATING BULLSHIT, YO YO YO YO YO YO. ALL DAY LONG,
LOUD VOICES IN THE HALLS, AND LOUD ASS DOORS; BECAUSE THE JERK OFF
SORE LOSERS ON WALL STREET, WERE NOT GETTING THEIR WAY TODAY, AND
THEIR STINKING MARKETS WERE DROPPING FROM THE OPENING HELL FUCKING
BELL!!!!!!!!!!
This
is driving me out of my cunt lapping fucking mind folks, almost 30
fucking years of this horrible monster ass bullshit!!!!
I
have a lot of things to tell and say. Naturally; I will pick and
choose the few that time permits all of us to share in some really
mind blowing stuff, even in you may not be consciously aware of this
truth, YO!
I
have recently added some 'talent' into the machine-voice-mix on my
song, ''You'll
Be Crossing Over''.
What it is about this and all of music in general, and me, I'll never
be allowed to understand, that is one thing I AM sure of, but that's
just the fucking point, ''JUST
WHAT IS SOMEBODY'S MOTHER FUCKING ASS
PROBLEM''?????????????????????
Go
fucking figure, my peeps, YO? FOLKS, the AUGUST 28 ATTACK THAT HAS
NOT RELENTED SINCE, ALL FUCKING corresponds to me doing this. This is
my property, and I'll do with it what I want, all you fucking mugs
out here in the EW!!!!!!!
After
this death siege two hours ago, I tested my luck, and SURE/SHORE
FUCKING ENOUGH, GOOD PEEPS, IT WAS MINUS FUCKING 12, hay, what did
you expect; a lolly pop from Saint fucking Nick, or a free blow job
from the top ten models in Manhattan??????????????????????????????
Say it Dawn and fucking cunt Daddy, YO, SHEEEEEEIT!
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There
was a great nineties movie called, ''The
Truman Story'',
you need to get it, rent, buy, download, whatever, or this will not
make as much sense. I had to prove
to myself that I could get down here to Florida and live here, as in
this great movie, the poor bastard teried to leave his area andwas
totally stopped, even more than I get stopped, each and every time
that I ever attempt to do anything at all in this real world where I
appear to be stuck inside of some unfathomable loop in HELL
ITSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
my real-life test was a very necessary thing for me to eventually
run, with or without the escape of my horrible kidnappers. What I
have learned is so horrible, that it can never ever be blogged. The
area I cannot escape is a bubble-hologram that anyone can see, and is
not limited in range to any particular grouping of square or cubic
miles in waking world distance. It moves with me. You look up in the
sky on a clear blue fucking day, and you can see it plain as a pile
of stinky ass dog shit. You cannot out run it, and it is not some
local small town or even state, or anything such as in that great
movie. Folks, it could be 1855 or 2476 or Europe, Asia, Africa,
Australia, America, or Antarctica, or hundreds of islands all
scattered the world over. When I came down here in December of 2009,
I brought the world of ME down here with me. The peeps at the
Harvest, the cold first winter that was totally record breaking, and
I could go on. Jim Burr once said to me, ''Mark, you effect people''.
He wasn't a liar on that, even though he told one very vicious lie
that I seriously doubt even the gods can forgive him for, but that's
another matter. All things I do effects huge things everywhere and I
know it. This can be touched on in greater lengths later on in future
blogs. I sure effected the Bonjovi peeps and Avalon,. No matter how
they might try and argue this point against me if they were right
here in my face. I could of course type on for months and not tell
the entire bloody fucking mess behind all of this, so later blogs can
begin digging deeper later on, with all these sordid unpleasantrys.
Fuck you, there is nothing wrong with the word unpleasantrys. I will
use it and fuck you, Spell Checker Microsucks!!!!!!!!!!
FOLKS,
IF THIS WAS JUST A GAME OR I WAS JUST TOTALLY NUTS, I WOULD BE DEAD
OR LOCKED AWAY AND NOT BE ABLE TO KEEP AND MAINTAIN AN EIGHT YEAR
FUCKING BLOG. ALL I ASK OF ANY OF YOU IS TO KEEP THAT SHORT LITTLE
COMMENT HERE, FROM ME, IN MIND; EACH
TIME YOU KEEP ON DOUBTING
THE VALIDITY OF ALL OF THIS HORRIBLE CLAIMED BY ME, NIGHTMARE
HELL SHIT.
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:
New
blog from December of
2011----------------------------------http://www.theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/
**********On
Blogger since January 2006
Counts
observed on Google, on 11/07/2013
*****************Profile
views: - (2,879)
NEW
BLOG PV- (251)
************Total
page hits:------- (32,839)
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
messages don't scare the
king of NO-FEELINGS.
I have every right to pursue my music, pursue my legitimate justice
and legal payback for what has been done to me that makes the entire
fucking Holocaust seem tame in comparison to me, but remember, I am
naturally going to be quite prejudiced here, as I am the one
suffering through this monstrous deplorable fucking hell from the
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.
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 8.
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
ALL
YOU HAVE TO DO IS CLICK RIGHT NEXT TO THOSE LITTLE FREAKING BULLETS.
About me:
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Gender
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Male
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Industry
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Occupation
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Location
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Hammonton,
New Jersey, United States
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Introduction
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Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly
say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived
here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with
awareness.
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Interests
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Favorite
Movies
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Favorite
Music
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Favorite
Books
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Gone
with the wind, the winds of war, time travelers from
our future
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You
forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and
olive pits?
An
angry mother. Also,
a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At
the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure
of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.
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.
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Advisory
Colors Key
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Winter
Storm Watch
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Flood
Warning
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Non-Precipitation
Advisory
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Flood
Statement
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http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
This address link takes you to my early blogs, AHA-AHA!!!!!
Florida
Attorney
General
Pam
Bondi
Large
Picture
Width: 4080px
Height: 4080px
Stay Connected
Width: 4080px
Height: 4080px
Stay Connected
Provide
your email address below to receive the Attorney General's Weekly
Briefing featuring the latest news and updates on top issues.
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!!!!!!!
55555555555555555555555
55555555555
HELP ME PEE, YOU'VE BEEN OUT OF HERE SINCE MARCH 29, and now it is NOVEMBER 8.
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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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
55555555555555555555555555
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.
I
did not mention Darius from the Harvest on my prior blog for no
reason, helter-skelter out of the blue, and comparing his PCN with
that of Paula Belinda King. You see, if you go to his wonderful
YOUTUBE PAGE, clicking the search box
and typing Deezy Slim; you will see that he came over here at a
specific time to help me with my own crappy YOUTUBE PAGE, that is now
gone, and good riddance. He makes no bones about the importance of
strings of number ones, such as November the eleventh, back then in
twenty eleven. Back in 1988, on the eighth of August, I sold that
property that my blogs talked about where I bugged my own automobile
and got a realtor engaged in a conversation, beating old mighty Joe
Berrios to the punch a year or two later over at the mother fucking
Echelon Towers Public Housing Building, in Voorhees, New Jersey. Then
20 years after that in 2008, to the day, came that powerful
EXPLORATRONIC ACTIVITY where I was at the Lakehouse for the first of
several times that followed that time, and they all know that I think
I know two huge powerful secrets about my wonderful daughter, and of
course, if you have a tiny clue from reading this, my advice is to
join the Regis Club, and BE CAREFUL; as this KEN CLAN are all
powerful exploratronic sociopaths in my humble opinion, and would not
blink an eye to light you up, and not in small rooms in the early
seventies. Darius dated the girl who went onto fire me on the
following first week in March, which would be 2012, and she always
hated me from the day she met me, for her own reasons, good old
lovely Jessica. I do not claim to understand why everyone is doing
what they are doing, but Quantum Physics is very powerfully involved
in the mix. There is no way all of this is not a part of some
gargantuan Astral or subatomic realm force that is totally unknown
still to any of the greatest minds of 2013. We collide particles at
high speeds and can observe a lot of things, but to my knowledge, any
attempt at communicating with these sentient forces, especially the
electron or as the Christians would call it in their blind ignorance,
the Holy Spirit; has yet to be done. I began doing this in 1983 and
have had the wildest ride in the universe ever since. But all that
can wait, as my point right now is Darius and his print-through
connections with the KEN, and before I ''wash my hands'' of all of
this once and for all, all will be said and told. I can be a
quintessential rat out when I need to be, ask another great and
lovely Jessica!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Aniwho, Flo and Poolbox, and
others; last twelfth of December ended these nasty ass dated numeric
combo entities, as there is no thirteenth month. Still, lots of magic
lies in why Darius came over out of the blue after I had been asking
him for half a year, and offering him plenty of doe. There are
reasons for those wild interactions both in June and August of
oh-eight, and on and on I could go. Tomorrow, I'll be asking Gawky
Gaukauk why this horrible fucking botbar day struck me today,
especially with these illegal fucking jit bag nabes from across the
hell hall.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONIC,
OPEN COMMAND ON GENERAL ORDER-7. Use all orders, all tecks, scan all
enemies, and destroy them, and here are the two tones, scan my voice
print on the sound of the 'E'.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
G-901,
G-1133, under CG18, G-189, CG-39, AND STOP!
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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.
WELCOME
TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS.
Anyone
can join, and
the price is ABSOLUTELY
FREAKING FREE.
YOU
SEE, FBI, THEY HAVE TAKEN MY RIGHTS TO PROVE MY VITIMIZATION OF THEIR
CRIMES, AND VIOLATED THEM, NO MORE BEING ALLOWED TO SHOW MARKET
CHARTS, SO ANY REAL SYMATHIZER, CAN GET TO A DOW JONES CHART, AND
CLICK ONTO A ONE MONTH CHART, PROVING WHAT THESE FUCKING PRICKS HAVE
DONE TO ME SINCE 1986 NOW, THE ENTIRE RUINATION OF A HUMAN LIFE.
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2.00%
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45.95
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1.01% |
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90.14
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0.98% |
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13.02
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0.85% |
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67.20
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0.79% |
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85.76
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0.72% |
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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 one month chart, it shows this as ''1m''.
Dow Jones Industrial Average (^DJI)
Labels:
AMITTYVILLE
FATES, BEING
SLOWLY COVERTLY MURDERED, CROOKED
SEC, ILLEGAL
ACTIVITY, PARALLEL
EVENT, UNFAIR
BUSINESS PRACTICES, Wall
Street
Enemies,
who R they?
SIMPLE,
FOLKS, THE WOMO-MILITUFORCE, WHO ELSE????
By
By for now, big SARAH-CALLIO-COW-KALI-KAL.
0
Comments: A planet of drones, why does this not shock me, Steve
Moroni?
[[{{((5555555555555555555555555555))}}]]
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
7. 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!!!!!
HERE
ARE SOME POWERFUL YOUTUBE VIDS, ALL HAVING SIMILAR SHIT AND NIGHTMARE
PROBLEMS, OF MOUNTAINPEN MARK WAYNE MOHR, ENJOY AT YOUR CLICKING
CONVENIENCE.
Now
at pure fucking random, I swear to all that is holy, and unholy, and
totally fully complete; if I make this up, may I suffer in this
nightmare for trillions of endless millennia, I will select a part of
my SAFE JOUNAL to paste in. The unconsciousness knows all, and this
is done only unconsciously, let us see what comes up when I go
'eeeny-meeeny-miiiiney'---MOE?????????????
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 6th 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 5th 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 6th
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 6th
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 20th
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.
END
TRANSMISSION: Archie Bunker says it so well, “Good night nurse”.
YES
FOLKS, GO WASH YOUR HANDS, AND STAY TUNED TO MORIANITY.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABIT!
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