PRIVATE
LIFE JOURNAL OF MARK WAYNE MOHR AAAE
DECEMBER
16, 2013,
MONDAY
MORNING AT 10:40
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 65 DEGREES FNHT.
Just
because these are private journals, does not mean that they have to
look ugly and gray and ignorant. Still, they will not be speaking to
anyone, and are only for me, and if anyone reads them, that is fine
and dandy. But I will not be played any longer, 'it is just that
simple', to quote John Henningsen, the BBO replacement for Frederick
Hinger, who moved to New York to drum for the Metropolitan Opera
after being with the Philharmonic in Philadelphia, and residing in
Cherry Hill, Mew Jersey back in the middle nineteen-sixties, BBO
standing for the Big Brothers Organization. Gee is anyone else's life
so weird, complicated, and totally fucked up at the speed of light
squared, I wonder?
The
mother fucking jerk off MILITUFORCE destroyed my entire fucking life,
they are total fucking pigs. I no longer can listen to tapes in my
car, they took that away from me, they took mike up on the fucking
island away from me, and I could post a laundry list a mile long, but
a more important item is of issue than just how many things I can
list, and that would be the way these things all happen in a perfect
timing, not once or a few times, but ALL OF THE
MOTHER FUCKING TIME! At a later time, I will explain this so
perfectly, that anyone with a fucking heart who may read these
private journals, will be fucking reduced to tears for the day, if
there are any human beings left around, huh Billyeyes Crouch Kaku? I
could easily list 50 things from my four fucking years in Florida and
500 items over the past decade of time which merely brings us back
around the end of two thousand three. Just when Mike Patterson and I
were ready to begin starting something that pertained to my Gawnum
App, bing, the entire properties along Ocean Boulevard were bank
short sold and everyone, every tenant, even Mike's brother, all had
just a couple of days to pack up and leave. Mike was going to stay
with a man he trusted, George rings, who forgot all about him and a
talk they had a short while back, and just left the area for an
extended trip pertaining to his school training, and without so much
as notifying his so-called friend Mike, and when he got down there,
he was stranded and totally fucked. When I was going to begin things
with Larry and the Tall girl club, as well as the two fellows who
were going to work with me on some projects with the computer, all
people from Hammonton, New Jersey where I was residing then, suddenly
and I cannot ever prove it, my cuzz and my
daughter joined forces to slip Dawn King a bottle of magic GET OUT OF
JAIL POTION, and it worked. By her getting out of jail, or
rehab really, but it was mandatory rehab that if she walked out, she
would have an arrest warrant automatically forcing her to complete a
long prison sentence. I doubt Einstein could have planned it this
well. With her gone, I was able to do two great life changing things
with these two computer geeks who had befriended me, as well as with
Larry, to help me in the social circle of life. Only Dawn coming back
at this absolutely wrong time could throw a monkey wrench into these
great plans, and how could she possibly do this against mandatory
sentencing? Well she did. They gave her some potion to rub all over
her skin that made it look like she had a seriously infectious skin
disease. They forced her to leave the Seacaucus Rehab Clinic, and
then her attorney filed motions that this was not her fault, that
medical doctors were stymied and could not seem to cure the condition
so why should their client be forced to suffer the consequences of a
few years in prison, and when all was said and done, in middle July
of 2008, boom, she was released and placed on probation, giving her a
ticked to totally ruin and forever destroy what was left of my life
after an already nightmare and unspeakable life that I was forced to
fucking endure, with this last thing being my final hope of escaping
what I now call, the HUNTINGTON CURSE. I also now now, that this
curse is not something that I can ever fucking escape, and that I am
mother fucking cunt eating doomed.
Things
look pretty nice over at Jupiter Inlet right about now, 65 going up
into the middle seventies, and 10 degrees cooler than it has been all
month, finally. Jesus Christmas Trees, Cooley Hall Nightmares!
I
am not allowed to click on Billy Joel's song lyric, the open office
crashes every time I do this, NSA is doing this, and Snowden knew all
this all the time, all along!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All I do is
click the right part of the mouse to make the red underline go away
on the ak-ak-ak part of his old 1978 song, and it crashes the
program, and I am going to fucking dial 911 and show the police
department what is happening. Before I do, let us see if it happens
if I re-type it and try doing it a third time, but on this mother
fucking line. It crashed again. I am calling 911. ED LYNCH WOULD SAY
THAT SOME THINGS AROUND MY LIFE, EVEN HE COULD NOT EXPLAIN, and he
prided himself with being able to rationally figure out everything.
Is this saying' something, buttwipe Mister Harner, or I am I the
biggest fucking buttwipe of all for not listening to your fantastic
great fucking advice at your shop that day on Haddon Avenue regarding
me staying by myself for the rest of my life? Well, in any or either
case, no matter what I ever will try to do it is already doomed to
fail before it gets a chance to even begin. Sheriff Brown and Eric
Clapton, and the Milituforce and I, all four of us share this same
mother fucking dilemma it seems. Every time poor Eric or I so much as
plant a seed, they just insist on always KILLING IT BEFORE IT EVEN
HAS A CHANCE TO GROW. Listen to the fucking song lyrics, it is
called, ''I Shot The Sheriff'', by Eric Clapton. Yes, Mark Wayne
Mohr, I know the lyrics very well, you dumb ass. And a double dumb
ass on you Kirk you egotistical mother fucking worthless shit head. I
give you ink, I give you ideas, you make money, and don't even think
you owe me a fucking thank you note. You're a turd, and to think you
were one of my fucking jerk off heroes when I was an adolescent.
555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
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compensates
for Jane Whore Bitch Fonda and her stinking continuous fucking
clock-attack of ones. You will never know how much I hate your cunt
lapping guts, lady. This shit wrecked me when I was already totally
fucking wrecked, back in 1993, you soulless
bitch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
IS THE WORST FUCKING ASSAULT SINCE 1987. I AM BACK LIVING IN TOTAL
MOTHER FUCKING HELL. GOD IS A DEAD FUCKING MYTH AND CHRISTIANS ARE
PATHETIC FUCKING ASSHOLES TO BELIEVE SOME GOOD FORCE OUT HERE
PREVAILS, IT IS ALL NICK CANNON SATAN, AND HAS BEEN SINCE I KNEW THIS
FUCKING PRICK BASTARD AS LENNY, IN 1980 IN HIS PREVIOUS
PERSONA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ever
since I added the TECHNO-TALENT onto my system with my KEYBOARDS FROM
PETAHELL stuff, on the 28 day of August, LIFE FOREVER ALTERED ON A
DIME, JUST LIKE IT FUCKING DID FOR ME BACK IN 1986, AND I AM SUPPOSED
TO SEE A PURE SIMPLE COINCIDENCE TO ALL OF THIS, HUH FOLKS, GIVE ME A
COCK KNOCKING STROKE BREAK WITH AN ELECTRIC SCREW!!!!!!!
UNTRUE
UNIVERSE HOPPER MARK???????
YEAH,
SPREAD THAT FUCKING ROTTEN LIE AROUND, AND MAYBE I WILL GET A PIZZA
DELIVERY JOB ON THE SIDE, VICTORIA WINTERS
FAMILY BIBLE GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!
If
a few little conversations with Shorty 91 inch MacInvondi brought all
of this to be, at least as far as the life and wonders of the all
mighty Donald J. Trump, think what can happen when you keep the game
going bigger and mightier, with interactions of many characters? Then
even further think about what happens when as things come to be here,
from other dimensions, we do things here that effect these
transdimensional characters and then even further, they go onto play
with hyperspace and revolve a full circle play in this incredible
game, and then peeps are still playing Nintendo, and Packman, and
even the great new age video games; when all this is right in front
of you, man; the wow needed here would be intergalactic in size, with
bright blinding red font against the dark cold backdrop of radiated
space.
So
indeed folks, just where have all of the
TRUTH-PATRIOTS
all
gone to, and when will any of us ever learn
anything??????????????????????????? Maybe after Peter, Paul, and Mary
and Potpuff pet dragon, all blow away in the next wind storm, huh,
Pam Bondi, mahm!
MARK
WAYNE MOHR AND HIS BLOGS FROM JANUARY 2006-PRESENT DAYS:
WELL,
THESE ARE NOT MY BLOGS ANY LONGER, but why make a private life
journal, look all bland and gray and ugly?
NEW BLOG FROM DECEMBER OF 2011, and new DATA:
WHO
GIVES A FUCK, THIS IS A PRIVATE LIFE JOURNAL NOW AND FOREVER MORE,
WITH OR WITHOUT LOVE TAKING ME HIGHER!!!!!! Electron-Lifeguard-1995,
I just may well be the BIGGEST FOOL IN THE WHOLE DAM POOL, all along,
after-all, I let some powerful fucking shit all get past me at this
place, and at this time in my life, huh Style Court Cousins? I am
going to discuss a lot of fucking shit from the days of Haddonwood
Swim Club, as well as how shit all fits together with Steve McGinty
from Mars, and so many evil fucking horrible scum bag people from
these days, as it all fits into what I suffer through right at this
present moment. If only I had not swam a little bit too fast that day
in May of 1998, not realizing the future mayor of Atlantic city was
on shore somewhere watching this through those bi-glasses.
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My
day was mother fucking horrendous, good folks. I TRY SO HARD EVERY
NIGHT AND EVERY DAY, BUT NO MATTER WHAT I DO, THE GODS WILL
PLAY!!!!!!
It
DIDN'T MOTHER FUCKING WORK, GOOD PEOPLE,
NOT ONE LOUSY LITTLE BIT; so
go ahead and laugh at me Mike McNulty,
if you so choose to do, old private-school chum from 42 years ago,
“AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA”.
WHORE
JANE FONDA GOT ME AGAIN AT ONE ELEVEN IN THE FUCKING AM, ANOTHER
COMPENSATION NEEDS TO BE FUCKING CARRIED GOD DAM OUT, PEEPS SO HERE
GOES, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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and 55555555555555555555555555555555555 and
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will
now
be
stared at by fucking poor old whittle pathetic cursed nightmare
me!!!!!!!!! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.
JANE,
IF WE EVER MEET, RUN, BITCHWEEDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dawn-Marie
King said it better than I ever will be able to ladies and gentlemen,
''GOD
DON'T LIKE UGLY''.
55555555555555,
PLUS 5555555555, TIMES 55555555, AND DIVIDED BY
555555555555555555555; IS EQUAL TO WHO FRIGGIN' GIVES THREE DAM ASS
SHITS???????????????????
So
tell me you genius gurus out here, for someone who goes out of their
way a trillion mother fucking ways back from Sunday every single day,
NOT TO SEE ONES, why then does this happen, and has this successfully
happened for 15 years now, shortly after Jane's monstrous attack on
me with that clock shit at the Atlanta, Georgia Braves Baseball Park
in 1993? WHY? The only plausible explanation is that gods are playing
a major game, and have the power to constantly influence anyone any
time to do literally anything. To carry off all this horrible fucking
shit, they need to use us, their doppelgangers in human hyperspace.
All the shit that Morianity used to preach before it closed its books
forever, TOLD AND EXPLAINED ALL THIS 100%, and if anyone out here
knows better, or thinks that they can disprove me, Clarence 1998
Harris, well, bring
it, bring it, bring it, bring it!
I
will fight the good fight, with all Paul's, all Paula's, and all
anyone else's, and wish so bad to be proven wrong and given a real
down to Earth way of seeing all this shit with me. The problem is
that no one can prove me wrong, it has been tried over and over by
lots of great peeps who just could not stand it and gave up and then
distanced themselves from me out of pure fear. I cannot blame them.
Who else talks to Lightning, BRAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
don't get too happy Doctor Garrigan old pal,
as I plan to copy
a few cassettes from the new files on my TALENT-ADDED-TECHNO copy of
my remade 1983 song, GITYA, now “You'll Be Crossing Over”.
They can hope for the best around the world, weather-wise, TEE HEE
HEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When
lovely things barely out of their teens come chasing after you at the
age of 59 years; which my birthday is coming up soon on the fucking
fourth; please don't tell me this is not a SUPERNATURAL EXPERIENCE,
as I 'do not flatter myself', OH WISE RELATIVE AUNT; AND GREAT AND
MIGHTY NON-OZ
GERALDINE SNOW MASON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MARK
WAYNE MOHR, AND HIS PRIVATE LIFE JOURNAL
Things
are getting mother fucking worse and worse and worse,
WIRTZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Can you and Pam ever lend a
helping hand here, YO?????? No, they won't or they can't, or
'whatever' Bob Andrews, old buddy from the long ago world, BUT
THAT
is why I
DON'T FUCKING VOTE IN THIS FUCKED UP COUNTRY!!!!!!!!!!!
I do not believe in your rotten system. My persecution is real and
not imagined, AND TRHEHY ALL KNOW IT, and they LAUGH AT ME and just
let me suffer and die, so just don't expect great things said about
you, from me, USA! It won't be coming!!!!!!!!
SATAN
IS REAL,
HE IS ALIVE, LIVING ON HAL LINSEY'S PLANET EARTH, AND I
KNOW THE MOTHER FUCKER, AND I KNEW THE MOTHER FUCKER,
and don't anybody tell me I'm crazy, as I have shit you
would not believe,
that backs me all fucking up here, great people, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now
this does not mean that I believe in religion's ideas of a pitched
fork ugly thing with a tail. For all I know it is the internet that
is going to soon evolve into the NCC-CLOUD. Who can know??????
nobody
would ever do a project like my 8 solid years of blogs; unless there
was a lot more to it than a bunch of insanity and nonsense!!! Those
who would be nuts and crazy enough to do that, are out there, yes;
but
locked up in sike wards
where they don't have any fucking internet, or any computer access
whatsoever.
Jupiter,
Florida, welcomes you to Morianity; Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.
GOD
ALL MIGHTY, ALSO KNOWN AS (AKA)
M---O---N---E---Y,
is the most evil fucking thing in the universe, it makes nice people
rotten, and rotten people become demonic monsters cubed!
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****WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!****
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Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu001148157
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1988
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Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu001189027
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1989
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Contact
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ANYONE
CAN CHECK ME OUT THROUGH DOZENS OF VARIOUS OFFICIAL SOURCES. I MAY
APPEAR TOTALLY FUCKING CRAZY, AND ANGRY, AND WITH VERY GOOD REASONS;
BUT I AM FOR REAL, AND SO ARE ALL MY COCK SUCKING CLAIMS, GOOD PEEPS!
This pasted shit from the US © Office is just one tiny little mother
fucking item, ladies and gents! Take that to the Bank of Toronto, YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!
I
am in a war-game with MIGHTY ASTRAL PLANE GODS,
and always have been, and always will be; because all
time is really one time,
and is a big fat fucking illusion. Now, in
order to distract their awareness, away from the quintessential
hellishness of ENDLESSNESS;
they must do major things that
take their minds endlessly off of this.
Thus if they never ever are dwelling on it, it
can exist, and not be part of their interaction; literally separating
them from HELL!!!
Now I don't expect you to 'GET
THIS';
and am only hoping that you'll keep on fucking reading this. Your
awake brain is working in reverse and thinks endlessness is the
coolest greatest thing imaginable.
All things are reversed by the awake-brain, and if you think about
this truth; you will know I am correct, and that you have absolutely
no legitimate argument to present to me.
People
can theorize, wonder, guess, and make all sorts of logical, as well
as totally illogical deductions; about any possible parameter that
physical life has to offer; from whether it is the right time to ask
a boss for a raise, a pretty girl out on a date; or just if a family
should vacation in Hawaii or the Rocky Mountains, and even who really
gave us all THE INTERNET!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND ALSO,
WHY
DID THEY?
WOW.
Let
me remind this journal, just why this was all created. Well, I will
give it a tiny introduction that won't begin as 'you'll
be crossing over',
or 'OK,
the name of this song is Don't EF Around With Magnetics'.
I'll be quite brief, for me aniwho. It was time for the gods to
introduce this new game, all because of stuff that was going on with
me, and my short to come suigenerous search and quest to locate the
special teen girl from my youth, Sarah Krassle. The reason I needed
to find this super android that was created on Timeless Satellite, by
a hyperspace doppelganger of myself, is quite obvious even on my most
ignorant days. We will be getting back to all of this and a lot more
that pertains to that and what happened around this very time of the
year in 1969, but later on, if that's OK with John King and James
Rockford, of course!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck you,
SMALLS-HACKER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Until
you are ready to ever believe that this entire thing is all here and
happening because of her and me, as wild and huberous as it sounds,
and I hear my words every bit as well as you do; but this is the
reason the internet was given, to step up the next level of this
game, and you know what folks, if Chris Bennett and Ed Lynch were not
there or had not been born, then someone else in the great
EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY
was right there and ready, to take their mother fucking place, I
PROMISE YOU THAT, sitting, standing, screaming, swearing, shattering,
or anything else that this adorable loving WASHCLOTH
FAMILY
is all wrapped up in and with good folks, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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.
GO
WASH YOUR HANDS.
NOW
THAT MY WASHCLOTH LUNGS HAVE BEEN ALL SHOT UP FROM HERE TO DELUTH,
MINNESOTA, lovely Amy Blowback Madigan cutterfields, both in 1970 and
again starting in 1987 and 1988 and going right through the present
day on needing enzymeters to operate musically; let us talk about
even more top secrets than all of this, and then sign off the
personal journal for the day, HOPEFULLY
ANIWHO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Last
night, on the great television show called, ''60 Minutes'', I enjoyed
the NSA and their latest cool walks around the real-roses. The part I
liked the very most was about Ed Snowden's girlfriend. If he planned
all of those things from the go-bat, and did all of those things,
something tells me he would have either changed girlfriends, had her
more under his control, or done without girls entirely during this
period of major life stress. Translation, I am quite sure, he was
using not a normal sheet, but something covered in xenon-proof
materials or made out of them entirely, and a child can see why, and
his 'girlfriend' had nothing whatsoever to do with it. This gave me
my huge LAUGH FOR THE WEEKEND, a news show that brought with it, its
own great comedy entertainment, wow, now that IS sayin' something,
Barber Harner!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
http://www.billyharner.com/
To
add just a little bit more from my original dictations that became
the opening New Testament of the Morianity-Bible in 1995,
…...........................
WE
CAN GET BACK TO THIS ON MY FOLLOWING JOURNAL.
Oh
those painful teeth, can we relate or not, Jimbo?????
But
Detectives Colombo and Wirtz, when will this entire story come
totally together to the point where I can go into court, without
making any contact with the electric company, or using any bathtubs
in Atco to rid myself of these LABBRIGG CULT DEMONS FROM HELL,
SIRS????????
LIFE JOURNAL OF MARK MOHR BLOG 20
August
19, 2009
“LIFE
JOURNAL OF MARK MOHR, BLOG 20”
10:30 Ante’ Meridian on Wednesday morning, August 19, 2K9
10:30 Ante’ Meridian on Wednesday morning, August 19, 2K9
Start of Blog: (reprinted after all blogs ended in Dec. 2013).
I
am under heavy OTAMMIC WOMO SIEGE, the aerial persecution began just
a couple of minutes B4 the opening scum bag bell on Wall Street in
Manhattan also known by me sir Prince as DIRTBAGVILLE. The chopper
attack started it, and then ever since, constant MILITUFORCE and
military scum and all manor of planes and air junk is all over the
nearby areas of this house where I unfortunately am residing here in
Blueberryville/Hammonton, on 13th Street.
I
made an error in my last blog and gave the years that 2 of my
extracted and frozen embryos from Mayan Goddess/Queen Julia white, of
1970 and 33. Naturally, I meant 2 say late 1969-AD and then well B4
that, in 1-BC, a distance delay field was used 2 send another batch 2
the World-Lab-send-backs of Jerusalem that were on mission there
establishing the now mighty religion of Christianity. I now can C how
wild my claims may sound, but U can C that there is in fact,
substance, in all of this no matter how hard U may not wish 2, that
is 2 say a bit better, u cannot discredit as proven false, any of
what I am telling. U may simply choose a disagreeing point of view,
that is always your totally free cherce Archie and all, but what I
mean is, read my story, my blogs, most or all of them, and tell me
where anything in there can B shown as disprovable and or a total
fabrication of truisms. Anyone can look up at a night sky and say how
lovely the stars appear. Some know a great deal about just what these
stars R. Still, the stars look exactly the same 2 all of us, and 2
neither group, the more and the less knowledgeable, sees them any
brighter or more or less lovely than the other group. This may seem
as a very simple or even just plain dumb example, but ponder on it,
meditate on it, and U will come 2 realize my reasons 4 making my
comparison in this way and with this story told. If the HUNTINGTON
CURSE did not exist and have its place in total reality, explain 2 me
how I can make global financial markets react, countries go 2 war
within hours after doing a seemingly unconnected and small event such
as leaving 3 cassette tapes on boardwalk benches, and on and on and
on and on. I plan 2 make a trip up and try and find cousin Ruth’s
relatives, distant as they may B2 me in the cousinly line. Hay, the
family I am dealing with and forced 2B living here in fiery hell
with, is way more distant cousin wise 2 the great artist MC, yet
every time in any way, MC is either played on Dawn’s CD machine, or
mentioned by her or mother Ann King or myself, all hell breaks loose
at the U know what squared, Gene 2-late Rotten berry. This traveler
or ES from somewhere in a place called New Jersey, back here, knows
all of this only 2 freaking wehell, BRAH!!!!!!!! Let me do another
rehash-rote here Karen Simons of Grassi, my ol’ pal and pal of
Frank Delpercio, who my business partner, definitely STL, in SPR of
Clementon, NJUSAESMWG, rented the actual building from on the road
where the famous Clementon Park has been 4 a half century or better
now, and where the mighty CVS pharmaceutical chain now has a store
there after we went out of business and closed our doors like the
Princess Furniture of Eternity Company back early in the
nineteen-eighties. STL—(SCYLLA-2-LATE). SPR—(STUDIO PARK
RECORDS). But then peeps, all of this happened well B4 the mighty ES
or (EXPLORATRONIC-SUPERMIND) MAROLA from 1969, ever discussed two
thousand and ten or five or any other year, and pronounced it in a
way that seemed weird 2 all those inhabitants only able 2 perceive
the sixties at the time. U must learn 2 look at the tiny Colombo
clues. Only a man such as this glass eyed nut job who was so lovable,
Peter Fauk, and by the way a second cuz 2 the principal of my
Haddonfield school, we had lots of EW connections, right down 2
Senator White and his son and my great pal, Michael. Oh, U all think
U have heard my story do U. Then pops up another thistle plant right
there in the ballpark out of left field when U least think any new
stuff is there. I will still say it peeps, al Jolson may say it
better and has the name recognition, but I can copy this great and
talented yesteryear vocalist, named Al Jolson, BRO. No U ain’t
heard nothin’ yet, lads and lassies and Labrador Retrievers.
NOTHING.
Hyperspace
is powerful and yet when localized, tells huge stories, detention
centers, school singers, even an old father of an aunt who in this
incarnation, is not that person. I know he WAS THAT PERSON, just as I
know about Ranger Roy and his assistant who appears to be playing me
for reasons I cannot fathom, nor do I wish to any more. This journal
is for me, it is my property, and eventually, will be totally
protected by copyright law, hence it already is as I plan to make it
official soon with a registration fee and an application, just as I
did with the YBCO song on July 3 of this year.
I
have some annoying fucking doors and last night I had some also, it
seemed to run from half past eight through quarter past nine,
Electric Company of Chokers and Jokers. You see, I know what is going
on, but I also know a bunch of high school kid code crackers know
too, along with the aid of judabyte super computing power at their
fingertips. Diana my love, thank you so much for visiting with me
yesterday, I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU SO! Raise your hands, anyone who
believes in all of the song lyric coincidences with the life that
followed along!
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