MORIANITY
PART 7, CHAPTER 00006
SUP
SEABOTTOM. I sent an e-mail to you, back on Saturday. Hopefully
you will find time early in January to get back to me; if
just a couple of sentences, on stuff I have asked you about. If you
are not sure what I have talked to you about, you
may need to read the past several blogs before this one to
catch up. I do not think anyone except the 'WASHCLOTHS' and a few in
the 'MILITUFAWCE', are reading my blogs; and have recently come fully
and whole heartedly, to this conclusion. You may be the only one
not in either of these categories, and if I do not hear from you in a
week of time, I may begin to wonder about this. If you are just
genuinely very busy with a lot going on in your life, just mention
that to me when you next write; and then I won't get all whacked and
paranoid, when I hear from you on an infrequent basis. You see, I
live alone, have no friends, no family I care to be around, and never
did; so I am a totally isolated person
who most likely finds it very difficult to relate to family persons,
and just real busy folks in general; as I am also a retired person on
Social Security. I stopped working after I was canned at my last
place of employment, the HARVEST, in Fort Pierce, as a paid
volunteer, through a program in Washington, DC, and through a stipend
in the AARP Program. This was in early March of eleven, nearly two
years ago, so my days are 24-7-365, of basic nothing. I had hoped we
would chat once or twice a week, but if you are too busy for this,
please just inform me of this, as
I will fully understand. I know many peeps also who have 5 or more
e-mail accounts, and don't check one particular account for weeks at
a time, or more; so this is a possibility too; but I really hope in
any event, you can just make me privy to the situation, as I have so
much to talk to you about, and by the way; even if you are in the
family, look; I want peace, and I want closure. I did not mean to do
anything wrong, not ever. Even on the ''day of the dog-walk'', up in
Suffolk County, New York, late in 1972. You can stay totally
anonymous, but I am letting you know; I do not hate my daughter or
her friends, or her husband; but if anything, I am very frightened of
them, as well as the entire Entertainment World; as it appears from
the last very long time, that none of them seem to mean me one bit of
good. Well, I just wanted to get this off my chest straight up front.
Now that's done. You need not unless you want to, respond to any of
that, when you contact me; and I won't think anything about it one
way or the other way. But you really do have to admit it is very
interesting about my sudden drop off in
readership, and I have pasted in the last three days
of 48 hour page-hits on this blog; and you can see that it has
dramatically and drastically dropped into the dead-zone, from a
thriving small blog. This happened right after I said what I said to
my fave peeps, and I meant it. I am very tired of all of this. I
am too old for games and nonsense, and I don't feel I
was unfair or nasty; merely saying I want to be done with this, and
them, forever; and quite frankly, Seabottom; whoever you may really
be, I DO!
If I
don't hear from you on or before the TWELFTH OF JANUARY in 2014, I
will no longer expect to, and no, I understand, things happen; but I
did not mean to say anything to offend you, and I hope that you are
just very holiday time busy, as that is totally cool, my friend. You
see, my paranoia is real, I am diagnosed seriously, and cannot help
it any more than a cancer patient can help being very ill physically.
When MUSIC seems to be so very negatively connected with me and my
life over a 40-60 year period now, and then I write and ask you about
if you can electronically send me any of mine from those tapes, and
then I do not hear for weeks, I WORRY,
so just please try and see things the way my dumb old brain is wired.
Thank you in advance for being understanding.
Ladies
and gentlemen, that is if I truly have any neutral readers and
viewers out here, not in the FAMILY, or in the M-2-F, let me just
tell you what is going to happen from here. I will continue but now
as often, writing my blogs and recording the major events happening
in my miserable shitty life. Also, I don't plan to just sit around
doing nothing much longer. I have planes, and for now saying this is
sufficient. I am not hiding anything nor am I ever doing anything
illegal or immoral or wrong in any way, but my horrible enemies force
me to never reveal my plans ahead of time. All I have to say in
advance is that I will be somewhere at such and such a time, and a
flashmob of giant girls, aerial crap, or some other attack will be
there, sure as rain and snow drops out of the sky, good people. I
have lived with this freaking mysterious problem now basically all of
my life, and especially since you all know when, AUGUST 15,
1986!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Feast on that, world.
AHA-AHA-AHA, p;d 1971 buddy, Mike McNulty.
|
I
am going to tell the world a nice juicy secret, one of about a
thousand of this size, that I could tell, just to make the WOMO'S
DAY. My very life and my very existence in the world, is not like
anyone else';s ever anywhere, any time. Things I have said and done
20-40 years ago, over bugged telephones and in other places and
forums where absolute privacy was not a guarantee by any stretch; is
just recently being said, almost word for word in many cases, on the
more intelligent channels on the television line up. I know it, they
know it, they all know it. I am not Joe Shmo, yet the common ordinary
peeps never ever will know me from the stepped on chewing gum on
their shoes. But this is not random. This is being done, and forces
that are unfathomably powerful, are making it their business to keep
both me, and my life, totally in the dark and as obscure from
anyone's view as possible. They would do whatever they need to do, in
order to keep this status quo, right through until the day I freaking
die. My voice was used on a television commercial a long while ago
that aired coast to coast. There were two famous anti-pollution
television commercials made at the end of nineteen-sixties and early
into the seventies. One showed a teary eyed Native American canoeing
down a river with dirty messes of pollution everywhere, and the other
one showed a lot of pigs on a beach, as if they were people, with
radios and towels and food, the whole smack; and you could hear the
announcer's voice on the radio, saying it would be hot in the
nineties today, and before this commercial began, my voice said,
''Ziggy, Ziggy hello''. This was me, totally unconnected with the
ad-spot, calling out to my beach pal Ziggy, in 1969 from the
boardwalk of Atlantic City, as I hopped over the railing and began to
run down to the jetty area where and his friends would always be
sitting on summer days. The real point to this story folks, is this.
Nothing ever just happens. This should not have happened. No one may
legally use a person's voice to promote anything, and neither my
mother who would have been my legal guardian in 1969, nor myself, was
contacted by any of the three networks, not ABC, not NBC, and not
CBS. This should not have been allowed to happen. They should have at
least filtered out my voice to a point of unrecognizability. They did
not. So why? Well, getting into the real specifics of this opens up a
secret that will in all honesty, spill cans and cans of nasty biting
worms, all over town, and all over the world, but in coming weeks,
even with less frequency in my blogging; I will indeed be opening
these cans. I do this because it must be done. It is only important
that I understand why I make this statement, not that any of you out
here do, to quote my great hero, General George Patton.
So
as days pass, I expect my blog to slowly go dead, like a universe
with nothing left but dying stars. But the secrets of the great Gary
Stone, and others, come into play regarding this, mister Freeman and
Professor Kaku, and we three know fully and totally what is getting
said here, or we should. I had hoped to reach by the end of
twenty-fifteen or thereabout somewhere, to gain entrance into the
100-K PH Club, but now I know there is too much really important
stuff for me to do with the rest of my life, than worry about this
silly mother fucing internet. Again, I mean nobody at all any harm,
or any misfortune. Well, only those who mean a lot of that, to me. If
anyone is innocent, I have only the best of the world to say to you,
and wish you wellness and good health, and all the money your pockets
can hold. But the few who are doing me in and doing it big time, and
have been, I will not rest until you and all of yours, are filled
with slimy maggots crawling inside your guts, and then, I'll burn
your miserable rotten worlds to the ashes of hell and laugh while you
scream. I had a right to my life in this world as Mark Wayne Mohr,
and you, whoever you are, have ruined 60 years of my life for no
reason, and for nothing that I have ever done that would or could
remotely deserve such fucking epitomized cruelty.
DECEMBER
30, 2013,
EARLY
MONDAY MORNING, AT 12:54
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 72 DEGREES FNHT.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:
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