MORIANITY
PART SIX, CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN-B
5:00
ANTE' MERIDIAN, FRIDAY MORNING
1
NOVEMBER, 2013
This
was written by Grace Mason Mohr, my late mother, back in 1977,
regarding an incident in her life the previous year in 1976, while
she lived in a small studio apartment, known locally as the
'Jamestown Apartments', of Jefferson Street; in Media, Pennsylvania,
and also, the County Seat.
The
quick outline report on this story is fairly simple, and a bit
unpleasant and sad; yet shares a common theme among the hope chest
women of the world, who because they allow themselves to become
romantically overtaken, by married men, who never, or rarely ever,
plan to leave their lives; and merely wish to use these
'second-women' as affair-lovers; and thus causing them to fall victim
to what in my opinion, is a legal crime without too much consequence,
for so very many 'dog-men', all over the place. The story setting is
in Pennsylvania, while her only son, me, was living in New Jersey and
working as a factory employee at mister Transmission in the Maple
Shade area and later switching jobs over to the Mars Graphics plant
in Westville, both jobs being located in Southeastern New Jersey. I
was going through my own major difficulties in my young life, being
only 21 and 22 years old during all of this bullshit, and then come
to see my mother nearly die from her experience because she had taken
an overdose of sleeping-pills, downers, whatever. Very powerful
things were going on around this time, that many church people, who
were in with both myself, and my mom, during these horrendous and
stressful times;went as far as to tell us, it was about as dark and
demonic as they had ever witnessed. I do not disagree with their
opinions, only their backward day choice of words, but that's cool,
words are words, and a rose by any other name, is still as
Shakespeare said so long ago, a ROSE! In a nutshell, my mother had a
boss who had a Chicago residence, and who was married with several
college aged daughters; and it was no perfect marriage by any
stretch; but as stated previously, many a woman has faced her
downfall by not adhering to the odds against a successful affair
turning into a marriage after a divorce from an already existing
spouse. The odds are like the biggest Horseracing long-shots, yet
women to this very day, still refuse to learn, and stop playing this
life damaging game. The scenes in all of this took place in transit
between tow places, and the two places themselves, the apartment
house where both my mom and her married boss had units in on
different floors, and at the job-site, where my mom worked as his
secretary before this type of job was basically PC-phased out in
place of executive assistants. The job is still the job, but this
fancy footwork in my opinion, merely acts to tack onto the salary of
the once-secretary-now EA persons, perhaps a few percent more in
their annual remuneration amounts in dollars and cents. The twist in
the story that perhaps separates hers from many other similar ones
would be that my mom claimed from the day she survived taking her
overdose, right up to the day that she died in 2000; that she was not
thin king clearly and never meant to commit suicide, but rather, she
went into shock and as they put it today with the professional terms
in psychiatry, she then experienced a temporary psychotic break from
reality, and thought she was just taking a couple of extra pills to
knock her out for a day and a night so she could try and get over
being dumped. But she will tell this story in her own words, and this
is just a quick high school type book review on her short writing.
Still, you will not be able to avoid noticing how things in my blog
also connect right into things; even back then; with what appears to
be on the surface, an entirely different situation, than anything in
my life. Still, we never can escape the magic area where my mom's
cousin resided for most of her adult and married life, up in Babylon,
Long York, on Long Island; and this is where my mom went to visit for
a while, after getting released from the hospital after her near
death experience. So without me going on any further telling this in
my words, I can now tell you hers. This is because certain things
managed to survive my trip down here to Florida, that I had no way of
even realizing, had indeed done so. Conversations with my lab-teck
(daughter), my mom's story that she typed from her office by arriving
early each day for a week to type it all up from her notes, and
things that really honestly, I would have to admit to divine
providence alone, being responsible for some of the things that made
it down here with me, that cold dark late night when I made my
fateful escape to leave my entire past and life forever behind, to
drive down to Florida and never look back, so as to avoid being
murdered by this horrible family called by me, 'TAWF'; and
especially the monster, Dawn-Marie King. So let me without further
ado, get down to cases, and type the story of my mother and her own
nightmares, back in the year of 1976.
SUICIDE
– OR WAS IT?
BY
Grace Mason, in her original words in the year of our Lord, AD 1977.
Upon
recovering from what appeared to be a suicide attempt, my thoughts
centered around others who did not survive ''apparent
suicide''. There must be numerous cases where the person did not
intentionally plan to take his or her life but never lived to affirm
it.
The
furtherest thing from my mind that night was suicide. Yet I had taken
sixty tranquilizer pills, which would certainly indicate I had tried
to commit suicide. Other circumstantial evidence would further
convince anyone as I had hidden the prescription bottle in a boot in
my closet before passing out. There also would appear to be logical
reasons for the overdose I'd taken. But, I had no idea of suicide
when I downed those tranquilizers. I merely wanted to forget what had
just happened.
I
am convinced now that some of us can reach the limit of what we can
take and then all that is necessary is an additional sudden shock to
catch us off guard and set off the alarm – an alarm that causes one
to react irrationally momentarily. If alone, it certainly can cause
disastrous effects....And that is just what happened to me.
I
believe my happy well-balanced childhood prepared and sustained me in
the difficult years that were to lie ahead.
I
was twenty-six years old when I fell in love and married, fully ready
not only to accept the joys but also the trials, tribulations and
sorrows through the years.
For
the first ten years of married life there were just two of us. People
often remarked that we must be the happiest couple living – and we
were. We were very much in love....But there was one serious problem.
My husband throughout our eighteen years of married life had
difficulty in maintaining employment and the problem was made
manifold in the last eight years of our marriage because of the
additional responsibility of raising our son. Unable to support us
at the end, and finally, after everything we owned had to be sold at
auction no house to live in, or car to drive, food and clothes at a
real premium ….he walked out and we separated. I am happy that my
son, who was eight years old at the time, has grown into a fine young
man, has an excellent job and lives in his own apartment.
I
worked throughout most of my married life in various businesses and
during the past fourteen years have continuously worked as a
secretary. It wasn't easy going backward to live in a one-room
furnished apartment, but I managed to make a comeback for my son and
me after the breakup of my marriage. After a few years of being on my
own I procured a divorce so that I could forget the past and make a
fresh start.
A
year ago a man in the company where I worked asked me to go out to
dinner with him. It wasn't long before we knew we were in love. He
asked me to marry him but there were complications. Before ever going
out with him he had expressed to me his intention of divorcing his
wife. I had every good reason to believe him. I was aware that he
had many unsolvable problems with his wife and there seemed to be no
hope for their reconciliation. They lived apart in different cities
and rarely saw each other. (I
have a very strong contention that people should remain married if at
all possible and I could not bear to be responsible for a divorce.)
'Her
afterthought'
We
had a year of beautiful times together, awaiting his final decree so
we could be married. We talked and planned our future together. The
door was opened for a lovely new way of life.
None
of this was a simple matter. Along with the trauma of his getting a
divorce, it was further complicated by the fact that this man
happened to be ''my boss''. We both had to be very discreet. Neither
of us was going into this foolheartedly and neither of us could
afford to jeopardize our job. Still another complication arose when
he was asked to work in a new office location – which was not
accessible without a car.
I had never had the means to buy a car, but, nonetheless, he asked me
to work for him and said he would make sure transportation would be
provided each day....It was – and he was the one who constantly
provided it. We shared many happy hours both during and after
business. Our future together was becoming more of a reality every
day.
Later
we were to have a number of misunderstandings and there was an
instance where he told me he was going back to his wife. I was
shocked. His divorce was already in process. I decided to go off
somewhere for a week to collect myself and once again reshape my
life. After five days I received a phone call from him asking me to
please give him another chance, that he loved me, and would make it
up to me. I gave him that chance. The divorce was pushed once again.
He began to tell his close friends in business that we were going to
be married. We not only picked up where we left off, we shared a
closer than ever relationship. The bond between us seemed
unbreakable. But it wasn't to be...His wife came on to see him –
and again he told
me he decided to ''try to make a go of it''. Upset as I was, I
steeled myself to go to work wit him the next few days. He appeared
completely miserable and said he just couldn't go back to her after
all. He told her they must complete the divorce. He said he could not
wait for me to meet his daughters now. Foolishly, I picked up where
we left off and my love still was undying for him. After many
months, we had received word from both his and her attorneys that
they were ready to take action for finalizing the divorce. That
weekend we were especially happy and we had a delightful lunch at a
charming spot in the country.
The
night before I had prepared a home-cooked dinner for him. He
smilingly remarked what a happy life we would have together if I just
continued cooking like that.
To
this day I shall never know what happened. Suddenly his wife appeared
again the early
part of the following week. He told me he was going to attempt
reconciliation after all and that it was over for us. This was not
the final or second real shock yet. I had survived the breakup the
first two times and now I must overcome it again. Once more,
overwhelmed with chagrin, I visited my cousin for just the weekend
this time. It was such a lovely home, sprawling by the beach
overlooking a bay. Again I collected myself to face the future. My
only request of him was that somehow he continue to provide
transportation to work. I realize now that what I should have said
was – ''please give me a little time to find another means to
commute even if I have to move''. But, at times like this, he was
very uncommunicative. He had not even given a reason, nor would he,
for this very sudden and shocking change. Upon returning from my
trip, I asked my doctor for a prescription for my nerves, and told
him why. On the way home from work I picked up the pills at the
store.
Next
morning I met him outside my apartment building ready for work as
usual. I managed to get through the day. But, that night there were
many buzzes and knocks on my door. I did not respond as I had gone to
bed early. When the knocks and buzzes pounded in my ears, I could not
go to sleep. It left me little alternative but to answer the door. I
did. There stood both man and wife staring at me. The rest is
somewhat vague, but they did come in. I do not recall whether or not
I invited them.
Not
one word did he
utter during their brief visit, but his wife talked continuously. She
reprimanded me for having gone out with him, even though he had not
been home more than three times in the past two years and during
which time their divorce was in process. I was at a loss for words.
It was too much to bear.
Then
came the full impact – the second blow which I was not yet prepared
to handle. As he sat there with nothing at all to say, she pointed
her finger at me and said harshly – ''My husband is never to take
you to work again''.
Sometime
during all this, he had quickly walked out of my apartment. I do not
recall at just what point, or why. Everything became hazy.
I
do not remember her walking out after that last remark or if anything
further was said. I barely recall anything clearly from then on.
Before they had arrived, I had set the alarm clock for morning, was
ready to sip a cup of decaf coffee along with two tranquilizers to
help me fall asleep.
The
moment she left I remember a sudden feeling of helplessness
overcoming me and an intense fear of losing my job. I am 57 years
old. I had always tried to be logical and practical but this time for
the first time I had no control over the situation....The decisions
were being made for me. I went to the sink, took the bottle of pills
up to my mouth, threw back my head until my mouth was full, and with
a glass of water swallowed the pills. Being a very thin little pill
it was easy to do.
Never
before had I done anything impulsively, and to this day it is hard
to believe. I was unaware how many I was taking at that time. In
fact, not one thought was in my head except I just knew I wanted to
forget for a while. Certainly
I was not thinking of taking my life ; that I DO KNOW.
My
mind seemed to be working rapidly. After taking the pills, my thought
was – I must let someone at work know I will not be in the office
the next day. I would have to ask someone to call first thing in the
morning. I didn't want to do the calling myself until I could think
things through, but I was obligated to let my company know. You see,
I was not secretary solely for him but for another executive as well.
But, before going out my door my head already in a whirl, in a flash
I thought I'd better hide the pill bottle just in case something
should really happen to me and that might mean my son would lose my
insurance. Now, I had I been rational, I would have realized any such
condition could be diagnosed with or without the pill bottle,
especially if an autopsy were made. But I didn't give the matter much
thought….I certainly didn't think anything would really happen to
me, AND by this time I probably wasn't too coherent.
I
threw the bottle in a boot in the back of a closet. Then, using the
fire exit, went up the back stairs to the apartment manager's wife on
the floor above me.
I
know she would be glad to phone my other boss to let him know I would
not be at work that day. I wasn't sure what the man I'd been going to
marry might now say to those at the office so I prepared to give my
own reasons. But I wasn't ready to handle or discuss it if it became
necessary...SO having someone also call (just to let them know I was
trying to work out a solution to my transportation problem) seemed
sufficient to me.
I
was unaware that the pills were taking effect. I reached the
apartment manager's door and knocked. When his wife came to the door,
I gave her instructions for calling the Office. She later told me I
was uncoordinated at the time. I hadn't mentioned to her that I'd
taken any pills. It didn't even enter my head ; it seemed so
unnecessary and unimportant. We had become friends in the last few
months and I had told her earlier about my previous break ups with
him.
After
giving her my Company phone number, I turned, started down the fire
escape steps and completely blanked out. Miraculously, I did not even
hurt myself when I fell. I later found out that I was picked up by a
tenant who called for help. I understand I talked a little before
arriving by ambulance at the local hospital , but I have no
recollection of anything until a few days later. I was unconscious
during that period.
So,
you see, the second real shock, the shock of my job being in jeopardy
after so many years of desperately trying to succeed in making a
comeback from a broken marriage , had triggered the pill incident .
The Company had been a major part of my life off and on for over
twenty years. It was a frightening experience to have it suddenly
taken away from me through no fault of my own, and the other blow
still too fresh in my mind. I was just not prepared to meet it.
Years
ago I had known a man personally who had been through a similar
situation, and, after my experience, it brought the thought to me ….
TWO BIG SHOCKS, ONE AFTER THE OTHER, can set off a quick and hasty
reaction.
This
man had just lost his young wife to a terminal disease after a few
years of fighting a losing battle. (Leukemia-Hodgkin)
Then,
less than six months later, his little son died after two operations
to try to save him. Shortly after that he took an overdose of
tranquilizers. He was with a company that manufactured and
distributed these pills to hospitals and drugstores at the time it
happened to him, so they were very handy. Before he passed out he had
called a friend , who immediately took him to a hospital to have his
stomach pumped. Now, that was years ago but I remember him telling me
that he had no intention of suicide. It was only after he took them
that he realized the seriousness of what he had done.
Believe
me, for those of us who survive, I do not believe it could ever occur
again. You now know positively what can happen – and you
know
you could not repeat it.
I
am convinced that there are many other people, like myself, who have
taken an overdose of pills without realizing the consequences and
with no idea of taking their lives.
Unlike
people who plan their suicide, fully intending to end their lives,
the people like myself are are hit TOO FAST, TOO HARD, and TOO SOON
with TOO MANY SHOCKS, and momentarily at least, are completely
unaware
they are taking a lethal dose of pills. There are many cases, of
course, where a person is prone to attempt suicide and may have a
history of psychological problems. There are others, who analytically
plan and succeed in suicide, leaving a note or papers indicating life
has become too burdensome for one reason or another.
Easy
access to tranquilizers or sleeping pills can be dangerous. Yet, for
me, I know that under no circumstances could it ever happen again. It
shocks you into cold reality. Life for me may not be very important
but my religion is..and it forbids any such finality. We are all
educated enough to know an overdose can KILL, but at a time of shock
your mind can become blurred. Knowing the consequences and being
sharply aware that if you lose your head you actually can lose your
life, no doubt will keep those who have tried it from ever repeating
it.
I
am now back working with the same Company but at a more convenient
location, and the Company has been very good to me. I understand
since my return that he became terminally ill shortly after our
separation, left the Company to recuperate, but did pass on a few
months later. As for me I have no intention of ever dating again, and
will try to do my best to live a more spiritual life.
I
have written this article hoping my experience may save others who at
a time of overwhelming but temporary desperation, might otherwise
risk their lives.
…...........
(The
one happy note to the above is – he told his Pastor that I had made
him see the Light and the Pastor told me he died a Christian).
THE
'HE' IS NONE OTHER THAN former boss of my mother at the then Lavino
Shipping Company, now the Inchcape Shipping Services, in Philadelphia
Pennsylvania, with offices all over the world, from Mobile, Alabama,
to jolly old England. His name was Edwin R. Potter, and he was from
Chicago, Illinois. I am not as forgiving as my wonderful 'Christian'
mother. Some might argue he converted so he could avoid me kicking
the crap out of him in eternity, as I am heading straight for mother
fucking HELL. Not a bad argument, even for morons, Chicagoan's, or
Dogtownites of any and all breeds and minnina-kalpa sentences. But so
much more exists in my mom's tale of tears and pathetic woes, from
1976. Oh lord fucking christ almighty, if anyone had eyes to see and
ears to hear. If my mom's fucking relationship had been Gozzwald
cosmically permitted
to work out, by the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE;
can you even start to fathom the fun and cool games LOST TO THE GODS
FOREVER? Jesus-God Terry Pennock; No Robin Hill, no ever finding out
about lost loves or daughters, no Atco chocking, no lightning and me
meeting up in a human lifetime, no lab technicians of power and
mystery, and I could literally type on for a fucking ass century and
not scratch the surface of it all. ''THEY
HAD NO CHOICE'',
biting neck-shave Count Marcucci Barnabas Lambrigger Levy Athan,
take away my mom being by herself and us deciding to team up since
neither of us ever had life skills to make much money individually,
so by joining forces, we could live in some really nice places, and I
was destined to have the wildest mother fucking ride in hyperspace
imaginable, at least in my humble opinion. Talk about the fucking
quintessential HYPER SPACE EQUATION, or effects in transdimensional
space interactions, hay Margie Leo from 1985, CUT ME A FUCKIGN BREAK,
SWEETIE, YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
W-----O-----W
Folks,
it is the Mountainpen, AKA not my pal the
Prince from the 1980-1999 bomber Squad, but MARK
WAYNE MOHR. I have a few updates for yall, friends and foes,
YO. I will tell you a major short story about what is happening
around where I live, speaking of my old bomber-buddy, and all others
like him, like King Darius's reincarnation Dizzy-Deezy, six ' eight
'' high and slim, well, not that slim; I'd say well muscularly built.
In any event, I have been given a message, to stop spreading certain
messages; the great highway to hood deal, the truth about any summers
of love from the first weekend in July of 1969, and why I was so
glad, Brad Messenger, back then; as well as going into my first of
two major unheeded warnings, you know, stay away from the shore son,
or the beach or the book or the chain or the midnight action
reaction, or up closer to present times; the great advice from Barber
Billy, on staying by myself, in living situations. I really must
learn to listen, as well as obey, the forces that are so much
stronger and huger than I can ever possibly be in a million years,
well; that, or be persecuted covertly on and on, or
'Rhonda-relentlessly', should one final little joke be
Gozzwald-permitted me, oh mighty great one, SSJKK in your new form.
Without
any steamy messes being boiling hot, cleaned up, or some undefined
zone in-between; I will tell you that Debbie really wants to move me
to a place that she absolutely promises me I'll be happy, and as she
calls it, 'pin drop city'. This would be our twin building up further
north, speaking again of time travel and Rhonda, on Seventh Avenue.
Hay Lenny-601 radio man, you tried to tell me all this shit in 1980,
sir; but I acted like the people up here, great Rastafarian Chief; a
total disbelieving Missourian, fully dues member paid, as well as
wallet card carrying, with photo-ID and all, YO. I cannot talk about
others who doubt, when at one point in my younger life, mid-twentyish
in year age, Gawky Kitty, sir; I was the Head-Doubter, long before I
ever transferred into the Non Disney High Def Monster Ass
Head-Morian, AHA AHA Mister Mike McNulty, from wonderful 'where's
your momma gone' 1971. Far far away, just like nearly twenty-fourteen
is now, good peeps, and bad ones; and there are some of each or maybe
plenty of each, and in that fact, I take real solace and contentment;
because even the great Jesus Carpenter had many who loved him as well
as many who despised him, with a vicious passion. Great peeps seem to
have this effect on the masses, not that I'm all that great, merely
one of the travelers on cosmos, aware of it while in a coat of flesh.
Yes Mister Macy, go ahead and say it if you wish, kind sir. LSS on
the problem with the huge Wednesday into very late Thursday party up
here on the sixth floor west wing that broke off at around 3 and then
doors started slamming again around just past eight all over again
for a while on this day as well; all I am safe to tell is that the
Public Housing Authority knows that if they really enforced the rules
on illegal drugs around here, Sheriff Mascara, old pal; the entire
building or 80 percent of it roughly, would all be cleared out, and
empty; endlessly. I had no idea that the hip hop rap music culture
had spread this much incredible contamination all down their
wonderful pipeline, and I had no idea at all that the greatest voice
in the world has chosen voluntarily to be a part of all of this,
bringing all these peeps into her fold of friends. Praise the gods I
got away from her, and her family, and her music world, and all of
it; just in the you know what, of time; huh Laugh-Clowns. I could say
more!What I will say is that right before the great stock market shot
back up again, when it seemed to be comfortably back under the
fifteen thousand basis points level and not shooting back up; this is
when this newest assault against me was launched, and quite
naturally, this was nothing more than the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE
using their nearly 28 year weaponry on me, the ICPE-APE,
and look at just how the DOW JONES
INDUSTRIAL AVERAGES shot right back up ultra huge super
time, at C-SQ, without daughter websites, trackback-34-cookies,
hacking from queens, or Atlantic
City-Cifaloglio marriages. Well, that last one belongs
together as many marrieds do, you know, Hampton Mrs. Cifaloglio and
Atlantic City Political hack rooms at City Hall, and the great
RESOURCEFUL Levy family, that the general unbroken down public, is
not at all aware of. Another family branch of the almighty TAWF
PEEPS, who keep enough secrets from the rest of us, to make ten
closet making corporations, endless multi-millionaires. That day in
the early autumn of oh-Marola-8, where the Mayor's kid said to me out
in the surf on that early morning, while Dawn was at her coo-coo-bird
meeting, at the smaller transdimensional Trinidad Nuthouse, up at
Pacific and Tennessee Avenues, there in town; he had a few things to
tell me. It was like it was all pre-matrix-programmed,
AND RELOADED, just waiting and already knowing, that I
would be coming down to swim there at that exact time; so he could
say what he said and then poof; he catches the next big wave into the
shore, a truck is already there waiting with friends; and in a flashy
shot, they all drive away, and are gone; vanished like a lovely
sunset turning rapidly into darkness. Then a half hour later, the
great Mariah Carey, who had just told me in a powerful and
extremely vivid and awesome dream back at the house of Judge Frank
Raso; at 65-A Middle Road, in
'Blueberryville'-'Hammonton'-'Hangintherefire', that, and I quote;
''Mark, you'll be seeing me later on tomorrow''. Sort of another,
''When you wake up later, and look for your chain; it will be gone
out of your strong-box in your bedroom closet'', in late 1969. Oh and
how can we forget the words that create these 1969 uttered initials,
'YFAITS-IDTYA', yeah, my fate all right, she did
me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Cut me a break old boss 'Pat
Robertson' from 1980; and watch out for those hurricanes you've
managed to anti-Magnesonic, FOR
NOW, BUB!
Well, I have told
you all but one thing that needs to be quickly said, YO, after
finishing up how the dream revelation finished out. Yes it was around
a half hour later when while driving back out of Atlantic City, and
towards home, on the Black Horse Pike; Dawn suddenly got this
unquenchable urge, to stop in at the Pleasantville 'Rent a Center'
store, to apply for getting some furniture for the home. We no sooner
walked into the place where an entire wall facing the north side of
the store had nothing but large screen televisions, covering the
entire area, and all were set to a music channel; I think it was
VH-1. Just as we walk into the place, you know it; MC comes on, with
one of her fantastic video music hits, and there she was; as she told
me just 10 hours before, while in bed and asleep, as you might see
these truths. Still folks, tying things into what I am suffering
through up here in late 2013; you would not believe me if I told you
how deep this powerful fucking plot thickens into, the peeps involved
in various ways and strength levels and participation levels, from
both down here in this county, all the way up to New York City, and
not just here and there, but also; all over this sick deranged
monstrous evil world. James Patterson the great fiction author with
many books of number one rating to his name, could not create a
fictional Mark Wayne Mohr
that would come close to what is totally going on all around me, if
you could merge him with Einstein, General Patton, Agatha Christie,
and Steven King, and then still after this; triple the package. I say
this not to brag folks, whether you choose to believe me or not. I
say this literally as I speak right now after coming from a very
productive talk with Debbie Moratto a little earlier, as I told you
would be the case; and I say this with tears rolling down my cheeks,
and a cloth to keep this keypad from becoming damaged as a result of
my night forest Spock forced emotions, Adolescent Charlie Trek, and
all other out of control Astral Adolescents; Goddesses, and Queens,
all not withstanding!!
GO
WASH YOUR HANDS.
For
the life of me folks, I cannot figure out the way for those super
sleuths to receive a grade of A+, at that movie my family all went
out to see back in 1972, up in New York, Woody, but yes, WASH YOUR
HANDS! Somewhere in here perhaps lies the secrets of one AM door
bells ringing, and night forests, all existing somewhere in a magical
zone between South Jersey, and the non Egyptian Babylon; right
Pharaoh Ramases? Give gorgeous Queen Nefertiti a big ass kiss for me,
YO!
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??????????? By the fucking
way, a door went off at exactly eleven mother fucking eleven, on this
fucking Halloween night; but HA HA HA, you mother fucking satanic
bastards; it was a minute later when I looked at my computer clock,
and saw eleven fucking twelve. Still JANE
BITCH WEEDSDISEASESLEAZE, I will cunt eating compensate
for the attempted assault on me cosmically and ritually; you demonic
dark souled fucking cock chewers!!!!!!!!! 5555555555555555, PLUS
5555555555555, TIMES 5555555555555555555555555555, DIVIDED BY
555555555555; IS EQUAL TO, WHO GIVES A SCREWED
UP PILE OF DOG SHIT? I AM LOOKING AT
FIVES, AND THAT IS ALL THAT COUNTS!!!!!!! Now that this shit
is all out of the way, let me return to 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.
Happy
Halloween, and go wash your hands!!!!!!!
You spelled 'Halloween' wrong, on the local news, guys;
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SEE
YOU IN YOUR OFFICE IN 14 HOURS, DEBBIE MARATTO.
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, YOU
ARE READING
MORIANITY PART
6, CHAPTER 47-B,
PLEASE
HAVE
A VERY
NICE
DAY,
YO.
http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
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WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh
my poor mom, don't you and I suffer, YO!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABIT,
here we go, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WELCOME
TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS.
Anyone
can join, and
the price is ABSOLUTELY
FREAKING FREE.
Here
is a little bio information about the Head-Morian, as requested by
the original blog website that I joined in 2006 to begin my blogs and
the Morianity-Project: MY LINK TO OLD BLOGS IS AS
FOLLOWS:
**********On
Blogger since January 2006
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
ALL
YOU HAVE TO DO IS CLICK ON THE LITTLE FREAKING BULLETS, YO YO YO!!!
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
|
You
forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and
olive pits?
An
angry mother. Also,
a little philosophy for you is as follows:
At
the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure
of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.
Trying
to figure out why this evil fucking power is destroying me all these
years, is next to, if not totally impossible. Still folks, let's see
what we can do, to
take a bite out of all this
for right now; Natalie Wood and Roseann Delaney, YO.
{{{(((O---U---C---H)))}}}
WHERE
ARE YOU DIANA ZUUDLOCRONESSIA ARTEEMIS WHEN YOUR LITTLE FREAKING BOY
NEEDS YOU SO MUCH, AWESOME GIRL??????????????
''Me
from 1985'', I'm Criana for Diana, oh precious sweet Diana, you have
gone away, no matter what I do you will not stay. I try so hard every
night and every day, but no matter what I do you went away. Come back
to me LIGHTNING!!!!!!!
©
THESE LYRICS ARE COPYRIGHT, ME, IN EARLY 1985.
HERE
IS WHAT IS HAPPENING FOLKS, TO THE POOR PATHETIC MOUNTAINPEN, THIS
WEEK AND TODAY; BEFORE WE EVEN THINK ABOUT TAKING THIS ANY GOD DAM
ASS FURTHER DOWN THE PIKE, YO FOLKS.
BOY
COULD I USE SOME HELP HERE, LOVELY ATTORNEY GENERAL PAM BONDI, LIKE
WOW.
Jupiter,
Florida, welcomes you to Morianity; Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.
Note:
The image above may not reflect the current alert state for your
county due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the
alert and the map processing.
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 |
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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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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
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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!!!!!!!
55555555555555555555555
HELLO
WITCH HALLOWEEN SATAN, IHY GUTS!!!!!
55555555555
HELP ME PEE, YOU'VE BEEN OUT OF HERE SINCE MARCH 29, and now it is NOVEMBER 1.
|
B-----O-----O!
AND
YES LOVELY DAUT, I AM HAVING A SUPER ATTACK BOTBAR TIMES 4, PLEASE
FIND ME AND HELP ME, PLEASE!!!!!!!!
Well
people, there are a lot of folks who love to really slam their dirt
bag doors, and I am doing my best to get used to this crude, rude,
obnoxious, outrageous, despicable behavior, around this place called
a public housing building and AKA now and not Prince Artist and my
friend formerly and still my friend and sufferer with jet and sky
persecutions, ROACH MOTEL CITY. At least the Prince-Sky deal is
quiet today, unlike yesterday with many many trails and lots of
menacing small weird looking aircraft's stalking me, once real low
and close both inside my apartment as well as outside while on my
three mother fucking errands, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But the old existing phenomenon came right to me yesterday, on
several occasions, that I did not tell you all the details about; and
still will not, for obvious safety reasons, as just maybe, you dirt
ball enemies of the WOMO-MILITUFORCE, I have a new girlfriend, and
maybe not, but that is for you to fucking worry about, as if I do,
next week the Dow Jones will drop 1000, and if I don't, it will climb
another 3000. This fucking shit has been going on for going on 28
years now, early in 1986. I have called this unexplainable wild
element since about 1991 when I believe I began first observing it so
incredibly and accurately; while living in Gibbsboro, New Jersey at a
rental home that was owned by the mother of a New Jersey State Police
Officer, Misses Meeker; the parallel event of my being major
persecuted without let-up, and the intense pussy-command that it
causes, shortened to the Persecution Pussy-Command or the (PPC)
abbreviated out. This PPC to this day goes on. Yesterday during my
extended harassment now of roughly the past two solid fucking cunt
weeks where it also brought their evil fucking APE stock market way
up as a result, naturally and of fucking ass course; it kicked in. As
I get older, it takes a little bit longer, but it does magically and
without rational explanation, kick in strong and hard, eventually.
When it does, you might think that I'm some non hyper-space-me Disney
child star. Women and even very young girls, just begin appearing
around me and literally start throwing themselves at me, and no one
can tell me that this is not totally ass supernatural. Yesterday
after it kicked in, it lasted until I almost had driven home, and
after the enemy attacks had backed the fuck off after I left
Hutchinson Island. Two of the 4 females involved were about 15 and 18
years of age, and were smiling and staring at me like they wanted to
throw me down and fuck my dam ass brains out. Also, this siege caused
a small but definite giant-pussygram, where many women all around my
proximity were way over the average for the heights of normal grown
females, and I have all the government charts on norms for areas,
heights weights, men and women, age 12 up to fully grown, even
international statistics. Nothing is that hard to obtain research
work on anymore, thanks to the great almighty fucking internet. So I
know when things are a little more than just slightly not normal and
entering the zone of outlandishness. AHA-AHA-AHA Mike McNulty kind
sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
do I plan to tell you all some more about the great coworkers of my
mother and her office days at Lavino, Shirley Levinson, and Patricia
Hollister, and just how my mother and I decided it might be a good
idea for me to go to the office of a certain throat specialist in
Northeast Philadelphia, roughly a decade or a tad little more, and in
the very same neighborhood practically, as when my Saturn car was
completely brutally ripped apart and all my items in it and in the
trunk were boosted by hip-hop thugs and total miserable lowlife
trash, right my buddy, Sheriff Kenny Mascara of Saint Lucie County,
Florida????????????
Well
Mizz Hollister and her friend Santa Claus, or his doppelganger
''look-alike'' aniwho, helped my mom and I move from the Russ Thaxton
Chain Steal Trinitrail Apartments of Oaklyn, New Jersey, over to 1118
Linden Hill Apartments, of Lindenwold, New Jersey, in March of 1975.
She also is directly quenergy responsible, for my learning and
practicing the great Fascitar Ancient Black Art, Huh Steve
Pointerplants Earlydinger???????? Well, without delving too deeply
into Annie Wilson, her sister, her mama, or her great magic man, or
hit record a short while later; I'll merely say that Shirley, Patty's
coworker and girl-pal; put me onto this wild medical office just off
Grant Avenue, and told me that similar Ron Wirtz Senior, ADA,
speech-advice, that even outside of Carlisle, Pennsylvania, ''My
answers in this case, to my throat problems, can be found here, just
as later, to my SARAH WOES, they can be found, according to the great
ADA, out in that lovely mid-western town, also in Pennsylvania. WOW,
we're giving you some real ink-fame on this blog, huh William
Penn?????
This
specialist had a beautiful young technician who seemed to be one of
those who I run into quite often, being me and under my family
'situation', call it whatever you like, saying 'curse', makes me look
like a Bruce Goldberg nut; so I'll refrain from wording it as such,
YO. In any event folks, before I met this doctor, or her; I spoke
with her on the telephone, and in those days, all calls were recorded
by me, all residences were bugged up, I was the original Dick Nixon,
but a secret about even this is stalking the world. President Nixon
did not do this, he just continued a recent legacy in the White
House. You see, it was really someone in this great TAWF or
THAT-FAMILY, that began this great tape-recording of everything
tradition, and a great man who never asked what his country could do
for him, but rather, concentrically; what he could do for his
country, and he did something; he became our thirty-fifth American
President. This is a very wild family from beyond the stars. The
closest in-link cousin is McGuire, the man we won't talk too much
about, a very deadly and dangerous evil powerful man, who can do
things that I have witnessed, that send chills up my mother fucking
spine, down in fucking ass Atlantic City, New Jersey, well, now I
should say up there, now that I am down here, right my friend, DMC?
Loud shouting and doors, wow, what a FOOD PUKE DAY followed by ''one
of those NEXT DAYS'', here in this hellish PHA!!!!!
Anyway,
we had quite a long talk on the phone, later I met her. Now this is
the year of 1984. For a long time my seeing her was blocked from
conscious memory, only remembering seeing the doctor and not getting
any satisfaction for my extremely mysterious medical condition that
persists to this very day, over 30 years of this unknown glandular
disorder that came on suddenly at 10:30 PM-EDST, on June 4, 1983;
while I was residing at 134 Norris Avenue, in Atco, New Jersey. The
memory that was lost somehow, came in a wild dream about two weeks
ago, around the very same time all of this persecution started
re-exploding in my face, after a tiny let-up period. When I got
there, I sat down and had a very short wait, a rare occurrence in any
medical office in most places anywhere in the USA. I signed in a
normal patient-book and sat down, and she walked up to me and told me
how she had enjoyed speaking with me a while back, and that she tried
calling me before but did not have my PCN. I gave it to her, it was,
and I still remember it, as it matched the apartment number I lived
at in Robin Hill, number 506. She never called back, and I found out
that she had been called back to some other location, when I called
to inquire months later, and spoke to another assistant of this
specialist. She went onto add that she was not doing this type of
work and was back in school. My mother then told me something an
entire year later one night over dinner during a heated debate and
very strange conversation, while we were living in Cinnaminson, New
Jersey, in the early spring time of 1985. I was telling her about
these recurring dreams where I was some sales rep manager for some
regional area that was not around here, for the S-DAY LAUDER Company,
however it really is spelled. She insisted that I couldn't be having
these dreams while I stared at her like a mad man most likely, I was
extremely pissed off. I remember throwing my entire plate against the
wall, filled with oozing gravy from mashed potatoes and gravy and
some kind of steak dinner, and I even recall now the vegetable, it
was a pile of Fordham Lima Beans. The hacking is heavy, as this blog
may disrupt the entire universe for a short time. I may just need a
new fucking mouse, so it can always be the more rational explanation.
It seems to go on rolls where it won't respond to clicks. Aniwho, the
fight was over Connie Chung and you don't need to know more about
this rotten whore or something evil that she did in 1978, but my
mother and my ex-pal Jim Burr had both vehemently taken her side
against me, and then this spun around to my dreams about being
manager of this company and how I was traveling city to city and not
liking the situation because it involved lying to the government
about a major 'something' and I have a major aversion about ending up
in federal or any kind of prison. This is when my mom went almost
nuts, telling me I cannot be dreaming this, it is just not possible,
and there was no rationality for her bizarre nutty fucking ass
behavior that seemed to bounce right out of freaking left field. LSS,
she insisted this was as wild as my insisting the lab technician at
the throat specialist office was only 14 years old and disguised to
appear 10 years older, but admitted to me her true age, and that she
knows me from a very large city that is further away than can be
explained. I said, ''mom, I never fucking told you that'', yet she
continued to insist that I had been saying this for months to her.
Then she broke into a powerful angry diatribe over how her coworker
Shirley did me a favor, and I am being difficult, insisting this
other nurse or whatever she really was, had told me this over the
phone, remember all shit was bugged back then. After she had cleaned
up the kitchen mess disaster done at that time intentionally by me in
a fit of total fucking rage; she said, ''Mark, I know how you can
prove me wrong, don't you tape everything, let me hear some of your
tapes, knowing you, you probably had one of those tiny recorders in
your pocket at the doctor's office that day''. I got so angry again,
I remember shoving the dining room table completely over, grabbing a
lamp and throwing it against the wall, shattering it and the light
bulb to pieces. I said I don't skulk around like that, I only have
tapes from the phone, and what I am taping right now of all of this.
She then screamed at me and said, ''what did you tape on the phone''?
I came back with something along the lines of, ''I'll find some
conversations with this 14 year old lab teck and play them for you,
just give me a few days, as all my life-journals are in numerical
tape, as well as chronological, perfect order. The next night she
came back from her job, and she told me Shirley is real mad at me
because I caused trouble at the laboratory. I then was ready to
literally punch my mom's lights out. I calmed myself down, and said
to her, ''shut fucking up and listen to this tape where I tell this
very teck over the phone last year, that my condition has certain
symptoms and how I try to manage and play with doses of various meds
and she eventually gave me driving directions to the place and told
me to be there a week from that day''. Then my mom screamed back
that, ''Shirley said you couldn't of been there that day next week,
the doctor is a personal friend of her father's and they were on some
kind of a convention-vacation somewhere together''. I then threw our
last remaining lamp that was not just there for show and unbroken,
hard, onto the floor, shattering it to pieces, and I screamed that
''she and Shirley are nuts and to go to fucking hell''. When I went
off to my security job that night, and
555555555555-555555555555-555555555-55555555555555-555555555-55555555-compensates
for another fucking JANE WITCHBITCH ATTACK WITH PAGE ELEVEN OF
ELEVEN, as this total fucking whore is on a MONSTER ASS NON
RECORDED ROLL FOR HURTING ME RECENTLY with these fucking ass ones
everywhere, dam ass bitch whore, YO; ANIWHO yo dogs, GETTING
BACK TO THE TOPIC HERE; gear shift grind, gear shift grind; what is
this early October of oh-eight or late fucking October of thirteen,
oh great fuzzy quantum particles of space-time-mind transdimensional
quenergies??????????? So I go off to my job at Petty's Island,
and come home upset after a night of a lot of coworker problems with
real major fucking jerk offs, and the 'shandaleer'
in my mother's bedroom had fallen down and had smashed to pieces all
over the floor. SUCK MY CUNT EATING PRICK MICROSUCKS SPELL CHECKER,
YOU TOTALLY STUPID FUCKING WORTHLESS PIECE OF CRAP; I tried spelling
that word in single quotation marks ten
ways, and nothing worked, you all know what fucking fell down in
early 1985 from my mom's fucking ass bedroom, YO. Even as far back as
this, this was the Washcloth Family's way of letting me know to let
go of this, and to keep my mouth shut. But it DAWNED on me shortly in
the future, that I had included the tape as one of my copyrighted so
called accidental flip sides, using the © Office as a time capsule,
in all of this, to protect me and vindicate me with all this out of
this world shit that just began happening all around me ever since
leaving 1802 Robin Hill Apartments of Voorhees, New Jersey, my first
of three times residing in these apartments, to move to the Atco
home, on February 1, 1983; and on that same day, open up the box
containing the Privecode Machine, from the IMM
Corporation with the so-called alien-guts inside, as was told
to me by a pal of my ex-business partner, PP, while we all were in a
local country bar, now burned down since that time, along with many
other great history markers. Good old fire, certain things are
greater constants than the speed of fucking light, folks, I will
argue that with anyone of you, now, later, or ever, YO!!!!!!!!!!!! If
you think this story stops here, you are dead wrong. The dream from
two weeks ago included some family members and they told me I was an
asshole for not remembering, that they did not make me forget any of
this. This is what was spoken to me in this wild dream that I did not
dare to talk about for fear of the hell I'd be put through, and that
hell came around all over me, anyway, it seemingly did not fucking
matter whether I'd kept my mouth shut or not, YO!!!!!!!!!!! Then they
showed me a photograph of the medical office and me sitting in the
very same light green colored chair, they were recording it all
along, whoever this washcloth family really is. I thought that I
would get a stroke right in ''the dream''. The lab teck was a very
young high school girl, the great Mariah Carey, only then, she was a
girl in a long island school, and that was it. Still, I know for a
fact, that she has other great disguises to this very day, one in
particular that I have seen her in, but if I spill the beans, I know
she'll come over here and kick the fucking crap out of me
personally, and that we don't need, so I won't say more, other than,
I know Resorts Hotel of Atlantic city knows, as they saw it all go
down that day, in real time; or maybe that was distant cousin Trump's
Plaza; the more I think of it. If my memories did not fuzz out a bit,
I would be totally fucking nuts after all the shit this entire
family, and all its extended wild branches, have pulled now; for
30-60 years. Maybe you shouldn't have gotten off that jitney bus that
day, at the grammar school, on Richland Avenue, in South Atlantic
City; Dad!!!
WAYNE
MOHR OF MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3:
Now
let me tell you some powerful shit based on powerful yet unkn own
math, shit that only could come from another world and by what you
all call powerful vivid dreaming, as there is no other way of
explaining the great fucking 1980 LOTTERY CAT, AKA GAGA for short, or
Gawky Gaukauk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Here is where shit starts to
get wild and tricky as a stinky old mother fucker cubed, YO FOLKS!
I
cunt lapping ASKED KITTY-GAGA why I am suffering the worst and
longest SIX-DAY-DEATH-SIEGE, this entire year, and the worst siege in
decades when all totaled up, and I got my response, and things are
going to get quite fucking CAT cataclysmic soon, all over this messed
up mother fucking world. My
major cursing
is because I'm being put through a totally fucking undeserved
horrific hell by monster dirt bags that Morianity foundation and
mountainpen, its creator; calls and labels; the
WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE!!!!!! I am sorry, and if things ever get a little
better, my language will clean up big ass time, I promise
you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But for now, I asked GAGA why this is
happening to me, this unfathomable and inconceivable torturous
monstrous fucking dirt bag cunt chewing hellishness, and the nice big
kitty cat said to me through 36 playing cards, and I quote him now;
''MEOW-MEOW,
PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER-761''.
Ain't life wonderful James Stuart, old Building and Loan Elevator
Room Hyperspace PAL?????? HEE
HAW, LOVELY DONNA REED, YO!
The
real powerful shit is when I tell you what some of my more pertinent
shit is inside of my MATCH-LIST book for items that correspond to
PCN-761, good peeps out here!! Try this on for freaking size,
BRAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
THROAT
SPECIALIST, SINGING CHRISTMAS TREE ANGEL, ECLIPSE,
NOTHING, SHARKEY,
IS VIQUEEN JEWELLY
AS
I BLOG LIVE AT ONE IN THE FUCKING MORNING, BOB MCDOWELL,
FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION, OLD
PAL AND KIND SIR, FROM 1972; JERK OFFS ARE MESSING WITH MY MACHINE,
AND VIOLATING MY CIVIL FUCKING RIGHTS, YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!
Now
there is a lot more you can do than ask the magic cat questions
through the use of 36 ordinary playing cards, I PROMISE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I could sit here for five fucking thousand years straight and type,
but the typewriter would break, and so would fucking I, so let us
just discuss this small little math and science that cannot be argued
with, despite many who will of course, give it their best Patty
Benitar shot trying, and that's their business, and right, huh
Mashell freaking Daniels of 1980 and RPL Studios, YO??????????? Let
us say for example, my first and last name causes my PCN to be number
871. This cannot ever be changed, and always needs to be converted if
necessary, into English alphabetical language, even if I suddenly
found myself living in any one of dozens of other foreign lands. It
is always where you were born and the tongue spoken there, that must
be used for you forever in your life in GAWNUM TECJNOLOGY, and you
must use your Christian (first) name and your Sir (last) name. MARK
MOHR is PCN-871. I share this number with about four million other
Americans, and a lot more folks all around the globe. Remember folks,
there only are 81 realities that all magically fit together in very
powerful strange and totally mystifying ways. These are assigned
numbers, there are therefore 81 PCN's, YO!!!!!!!!! You can do so much
with this, that it would require a great super software program to
even just do some really basic simple shit, but with the peta byte
computers in the NSA at Fort Meade, Maryland; they can take the
GAWNUM to levels I cannot even fantasize about in my wildest and
wettest fucking dreams, good folks. I was told by a nameless agent
who brushed elbows with me here in my town a couple years back, at a
grocery store, shortly after mighty Osama Ben Laden was taken into
the hands of the LEVY-GANG SUPER TROOPERS, and was shot full of more
holes than a pack of Swiss Cheese; that NSA had taken the GAWNUM and
placed it into a program, and used it to capture this enemy of the
state. Hay, if I can be of service to my country, great WASHCLOTH
FAMILY, fine. I just don't see why you have to fucking persecute my
pathetic little helpless fucking ass to death 24-7-365.2422,
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In any event, let me tell you just one tiny thing
about using GAWNUM, to get what is called compatibility of these 81
realities verses non-compatibility. I am not going to re-tell the
formula again, it all is on many past and previous blogs, and can be
archived and most likely even Googled by those proficient in this
internet-computer new age ways of life!!!!!!!!!!!! You can get the
PCN of any number, the number 1, the number 55, the number
99994586875, all things, all names, all numbers, everything has one
of 81 possible PRIVATE-COSMICODED-NUMBERS, with or without any
assistance from the Alien International Mobile Machines Corporation,
AKA in the worlds of Mike McNulty, stair chases, and other not so
funny laughs and thigh slapping; 'TEE HEE HEE'; the AIMM Corporation.
Choke on that one misses Cicone from 1972, while I choke eleven years
later on up in Atco, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now, every
person has ages measured in years, one year old, 2, 3, 4, and if you
end up on a SMUCKERS
JAR with Al Roker's fantastic stormy fisherman television
commercials; that I sure miss seeing and thought were
so cool earlier this freaking ass yar, YO DUDE; in any neck of the
dam ass woods big guy and my always forever FAVORITE WEATHER MAN;
BRRRRRRR; so yes we all have a year-age, I will be 59 on the fourth
of December, and currently am age 58 years. To see if your age each
year is compatible to your PCN, you do the simple compatibility test;
your number, plus the number of your age. Get the total, or the
'PCNT'; and as long as one digit
on both of the numbers added up, is in your
total (PCNT); it is compatible;
and if not, then it
is not. Now being compatible cosmically is a powerful
interpretation that each user of the GAWNUM will come to apply with
his or her own very unique life. No two anything's are the same, not
twins, not snowflakes, nothing; because things are made up of
particles so tiny, that when you begin attempting to fathom how many
combinations of ways that they all could be ''glued'' together
gravitationally from the sixth dimension of mind-gravity; numbers as
high as one times ten to exponents in three digits are going to be
suddenly staring you in the face, in or out of the Walmart Phone
Messages Chain Stores. Aniwho folks, I can take my own number or
anybody's PCN as long as I know their legally born first and last
name; and can see many things about my life, and my enemies, and my
friends, well, I doubt I have any fuckign friends. Satan has
influenced everybody everywhere to fucking hate my miserable pathetic
guts, and that's just fine with fucking me, YO! Still folks; I can
tell so many things, and get so many powerful clues to so much. One
out of a trillion things is the example with my wonderful older
daughter that the world will always be lied to about by the owners of
everything. You an argue with me that Trump and Frank Callio and so
many others just as I said, all share this number. None of that
matters when you begin becoming a seasoned user of this great system.
By the way it is half past one, these doors are still going, and I
WILL CALL FUCKING 911 IF IT DOES NOT CEASE AND
FUCKING DECIST REAL DAM SOON, AND FRIDAY, NOT DON CIALONI TOMORROW,
THE REAL ONE (FRIDAY), I WILL HAVE A LONG TALK WITH RESIDENT MANAGER
MARATTO, YO!!!!!!!!!! Now it is doubtful that distant cuzz
Trump or the late Mister Callio had the first ten years of their
lives go quite like the life of my kid. Millions share these 81
numbers. Still, stuff is going on that is beyond wild with anyone
born in the USA with that PCN, as this is out of all 81 numbers, the
only or one of a very few, that make the first TEN YEARS of life,
non-compatible with cosmos. This has wild effects, and anyone with
that number that is living in adulthood, has major things that they
could, but most likely never will, tell the world, about their first
3,652 years on this planet. As I speak-type, a MAJOR FUCKING LEFT
SIDE DEATH ANDROID-ANGEL is striking me at 37 minutes past one, and
now is abating, Sir Peter, as I type on, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For
years now, these super high pitched sounds that attack you on one
side for a quick burst, out of nowhere, and then go away, have been
real real real bad, lovely Ingrid-84. In hyperspace, I really enjoy
having you for my wife, you are not only so nice, but so beyond white
hot gorgeous, crissake squared! Now here is my MPB for the month.
October started out good, but soon became not good. Unless things
commence and then continue on GOOD, they will not complete good, and
for me, they never ever mother fucking do, BRAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
OCTOBER
01------00
OCTOBER
02------00
OCTOBER
03------00
OCTOBER
04------25
OCTOBER
05------20
OCTOBER
06------17
OCTOBER
07------14
OCTOBER
08------13
OCTOBER
09------22
OCTOBER
10------30
OCTOBER
11------27
OCTOBER
12------25
OCTOBER
13------23
OCTOBER
14------21
OCTOBER
15------27
OCTOBER
16------25
OCTOBER
17------29
OCTOBER
18------28
OCTOBER
19------26
OCTOBER
20------25
OCTOBER
21------24
OCTOBER
22------23
OCTOBER
23------26
OCTOBER
24------25
OCTOBER
25------28
OCTOBER
26------31
OCTOBER
27------33
OCTOBER
28------36
OCTOBER
29------38
OCTOBER
30------40
THE
VERY FUCKING WORST OTAMM WOMO SCUM CAN MAKE OCTOBER, WITH A SEVEN
STRAIGHT BOTBAR DAY STRING, IS 42%. IF THE ATTACK FUCKING BREAKS OFF
WHICH ON HALLOWEEN DAY IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS SATANIC DEMONIC FUCKING
ASSAULT OIN ME IS VERY HIGHLY UNLIKELY GOOD FOLKS, YO; BUT IT WOULD
THEN END THE MONTH AT A STILL FUCKING QUITE ROTTEN MPB OF 39, SO IT
WILL END AT EITHER 39 OR 42 PERCENT, DEPENDING ON WHETHER HELLO-WITCH
HALLOWEEN DAY GOES BOTFUCKINGBAR TIMES 7 OR THE 6-DAY STRING BREAKS
OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No matter how
you cut through the stenchy fucking dog shit good folks, being 4 for
10 for having really horrible fucking rotten days, SUCKS!
If you think for one sucking ass microsecond, that you could
live like this for more than 27 straight years, from August 15, 1986
through October 30, 2013, you are kidding yourself at light speed
squared, and then some more, I PROMISE, AND I'M
DEAD ASS SERIOUS TOO, WOMO!!!!! HA-HA, real mother
fucking funny, let me now watch the foot of those horrible steps,
GAWKY! I feel so sorry for you MY, 10 straight first years, but if
you're wondering girl, how then do I explain my distant cuzz the
billionaire, well; only he could tell you all his little ass secrets
from age 0-10, but WILL
HE, GIRL?????????????????? OK,
my wonderful Morians and anyone else, here is the way the Head-Morian
is passing through regular time in the month of October of
twenty-Marola-thirteen, in so far as MPB (Magnetic Percentage
Botbar).
OCT.
01----------00
OCT.
02----------00
OCT.
03----------00
OCT.
04----------25
OCT.
05----------20
OCT.
06----------17
OCT.
07----------14
OCT.
08----------13
OCT.
09----------22
OCT.
10----------30
OCT.
11----------27
OCT.
12----------25
OCT.
13----------23
OCT.
14----------21
OCT.
15----------27
OCT.
16----------25
OCT.
17----------29
OCT.
18----------28
OCT.
19-----------26
OCT.
20-----------25
OCT.
21-----------24
OCT.
22-----------23
OCT.
23-----------26
OCT.
24-----------25
OCT.
25-----------28
OCT.
26-----------31
YOU
THOUGHT IT WAS BAD BACK THEN, MARK, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT. AND IT IS
NOW 2 AM, AND I AM GOING TO HAVE TO DIAL 911. DEBBIE THE MANAGER TOLD
ME TO CALL CRIME STOPPERS, FUCK CRIME STOPPERS, I NEED SHERIFF
MASCARA TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THESE DRUG THUG BASTARD FUCKING PRICKS
ALL AROUND ME, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO, I HAVE MOTHER FUCKING RIGHTS,
GODDESS DAM IT!!!!! WHAT I AM GOING TO DO IS HAVE DEBBIE PULL THE
SURVEILENCE TAPES, THIS IS HIGHLY ILLEGAL ACTIVITY, YOU CANNOT KEEP
THIS SHIT UP AT TWO AM AND ALL FUCKINGN IGHT LONG, BUT PIGS THINK
THEY OWN THE FUCKING ENTIRE WORLD, AND ARE ALL FUCKING CUNT ENTITLED,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
is the worst fucking magnetic part of this tenth month now. Never
before, until yesterday, Saturday the fucking cock sucking
twenty-sixth day of October; was I over 30%
MPB, now it is holding at 31%, things are very mother
fucking bad, AND I NEED YOUR HELP ATTORNEY GENERAL, FBI, ACLU, and
anyone out here that just might contain a small thing called a
HEART!!! Yeah, I fucking cunt lapping wish it was at 31%, right
mister DICE????????????????? Boy, he told you the truth years before
going on the dam 'L&O' SHOW, say it
Dawn-Marie and Dad, SHEEEEEEEIT!
I am
one mother fucking miserable hurting squirrel, PPPPPPPPPPPPPPP, and
thanks to you jit bag, a large 'percentage of my pain' was your
fault, and you're so big of a miserable bastard that you cannot take
hearing the truth, ya' swine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW
DOES MY FUCKING ASS LIFE SUCK A HUGE FAT THROBBING COCK,
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABIT!!!!!!!!
55555555555555555555555555
Well
GINA my
lovely pretty NON GOZZWALD
NIGHT-LADY of the nineties; I TOLD YOU.
Let me have a major fucking disaster
like last evening, and KAFUCKINGPOW, YO, THE DOW
JONES MARKETS SHOOT WAY UP; AND
NO SHOCK TO ME WHATSOEVER.
MARK
WAYNE MOHR OF MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3:
Here
he goes again for crissake!!!
WELCOME
TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS.
Anyone
can join, and
the price is FREE.
Only
nothing really is free, and smart folks know I am merely trying to
get my six billion one hundred and one degree home to drop in
temperature. I know my blogaud ain't stupid. I know I have maybe,
just maybe if lucky, 2-5 peeps that are smart enough to stay silent
and are really on my side, and all others are merely government and
enemy agents. A fool can see he's just being played and I'm a
sub-fool cubed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No Marie and Ed Green,
you can't argue against science or math, it is a fools parade cubed
to even make the mother fucking attempt!!!!! Fuck it, POP!
I
had a wild time exploring the hyperspace, (doing very active lucid
aware dreaming), interrupted by one major fire alarm, but they come
and go on rolls, and I must confess, recently these monster-sirens
from Non-Disney, are cutting me a break; hence, it's time again, Sir
Barnabas Leviathan Lambrigg, so here we go. I will get into a little
bit of my experiences, perhaps, but right off, I wish to discuss a
few small items that I feel more pertinent for this day, we can
always get back to this, Jim Rockford, as you well know, ouch, YO
Maverick. Speaking of those named Jim, I don't need someone or
something to ever inform me, that Jim Burr seemed to have some
innate insight into my family, and stuff generally about it and its
connectedness to me and my poor shadows from hell, if permitted to
use and alter some very once well known song lyrics. Me
and my shadow huh, oh well, wash
your hands,
Shadow Man of the 1984 Copyright Office. After a while crocodile
Dundee, yo yo yo yo yo!!
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