'THANK
YOU GOD FOR BEING SUCH A FUCKING PRICK'
DECEMBER
11, 2013,
THURSDAY
MORNING AT 10:20
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 70 DEGREES FNHT.
THANK
YOU SEABOTTOM. I ALWAYS DID BELIEVE IN YOU. WE NEED TO TALK SOMEHOW,
about W----U radio, and those tapes from the nineteen-nineties.
Yesterday,
I was under too much horrible fucking siege from the MILITUFORCE, to
tell how it had been exactly 4 years t the day, that I awoke at a
I-95 rest stop, where I had slept since arriving by car in
Jacksonville, Florida the night before close to midnight, and found
this cozy rest stop to relax my fucked up weary bones for a few
hours. I thought I arrived in paradise for a few hours, and was
struck extremely hard with a powerful punch from mister Reality, as
the hours passed along after being awakened by a very nice highway
trooper who asked me if I was all right, as they really do not want
folks to sleep at rest stops other than for maybe four hour maximum
cat naps. It is all one huge con game with those with money, all
aiding each other, perhaps not even realizing what they are doing
consciously, and seeing it from their vantage point of not allowing
bums to stink up their society and its 'beauty'. They really want you
to check into some 200 a night hotel near highway exits. Fine, we all
would like to do this as well, hot meals, hot baths, comfy beds, the
works. But again, there goes hard puncher Mister fucking Reality, to
greet us all. Ouch!
As
I continue along with PRIVATE LIFE JOURNAL, AAAB, I awoke without
incident an almost an hour ago. I need to put a few things on this
record, RIGHT NOW, lovely LOO-10-ant, Anita Corecedin. I did not ask
to get born. I did not ask to be in this mother fucking family. I did
not ask to share the burden of this family's cock sucking horrendous
curse. No one ever asks me anything. I just get pushed around and
shoved hard, right into one dogshit pile after another. If you
picture fucking shit like this literally, this then is my six decades
of life with one year shy. Yes December 4 was my fifty-ninth fucking
birthday, and miraculously after a nasty December 3 botbar, it did
not become a botbar times 2 birthday, as I had totally expected would
be the cunt eating fucking case.
According
to my friend Seabottom, he is not getting my e-mails. I knew there
was some 'issue' to quote him, as it took several tries to send these
things to him, and I was not getting the normal prompt from my
Comcast system, saying, 'MESSAGE SENT'. What I am dying to learn from
him, besides anything else we may end up discussing, so that we both
may learn important things from each other, is his story about what
he personally can tell me of how my internet fame began to spread,
before my actual blogging became well established, all through the
passing around of a cassette tape that somebody labeled as I did no
such thing, ''The meaning of life''. He tells me he knows a thing or
two about it, and I am going half nuts for 6 weeks give or take
waiting to hear. I am listed in the telephone book, and everyone
knows my name and my location, Mark Mohr, Fort Pierce, Florida. Why
the old method cannot be used, I will never live long enough to
understand, as my WOMO enemies can and do, hack everything, but the
phone is the least hacked thing. Even if I am speaking and the
enemies suddenly disconnect a call, you simply have an arrangement
from the start of the call of which party calls back and which party
stays off the phone and waits for the callback. If however, anyone
insists on the new age way of doing this only, here are the pitfalls
and the best ways to try it. First, my blogs are hacked big time, I
do not always get my comments, half the time it takes a long time
just to post a blog that should go up one two three, if I did not
have someone or some thing obviously illegally suppressing this, and
oppressing me illegally, in this evil nation. When I say this nation,
it is a group of a number of top nations that have all combined, they
may be called the G-20, I'm not sure, as it grows, and the number
goes up as a result. But as for thos WFMU tapes, SLAM-SLAM-BANG, all,
as usual, connects all. First it all connects into the most powerful
world owners of the planet and their hub central station, Wall Street
of Manhattan. Then it connects a family way to powerful and
frightening to get into. Many people hero worship a few of its
branches, and I am not saying that a few of its branches are not
poisonous, to the contrary, they are both edifying and uplifting. But
not all of these branches are anything close to any words of praise
or positives. They destroyed my entire education, my entire adult
life in every facet of it that is humanly imaginable, and on an don
and on I could quite easily go with this. As for the sky assault of
Wednesday, yesterday; a child with my knowledge on things, could see
that coming. It was 1983 all over again. If I won't allow them to
persecute me with their rotten EW junk, and instead shut it off, they
turn around and say to themselves, OK FINE, we'll get this little
bastard real good the following hours and days, or whatever. They
don't actually say this, but their actions perfectly define this. If
it happened once, twice, or even a dozen times over a 30 year period
when it all started around April of 1983 give or take, that would be
an acceptable mere coincidence to me, but not a grand fucking total
of say 5,000 or 10,000 fucking times, 'no way-a, I say a'!
I
have a prick from Chicago and its surrounding suburbs who is
illegally harassing me on the telephone,calling and leaving a sound,
something between an IP and a YIP. I have had this caller call me now
on a total of 4 different numbers that I am going to list for the
record, before taking this and the recorded off the voicemail system
onto a tape, down to the local police, not that they will do one
thing about it, as they never ever are willing to help me. It is OK
for me to be illegally persecuted, just not OK for me to ever
complain about it and ask to have it stopped and prosecuted. Here is
the information on this same caller, using six separate and differing
items and numbers that pop up on my caller ID screen on my AT&T
land-line telephone:
EVANSTON,
ILLINOIS----------------------------------- (847) 448-0006
UNAVAILABLE,
'CHICAGO'--------------------------- (773) 596-9777
UNAVAILABLE,
'CHICAGO'--------------------------- (630) 449-4282
UNAVAILABLE,
'CHICAGO'--------------------------- (312) 324-0278
ONLY
NUMBER DISPLAYS------------------------ (224) 387-5686
THALES
TRADING, 'CHICAGO'----------------- (312) 445-9619
The
fifth number on this list is a Chicago suburb, Northbrook, Illinois.
My
most recent call came in at just shy of a quarter past ten this
morning, 12/12/13. I get about 5-10 of these every week and it began
about 4-8 weeks ago somewhere. It is the very same played quick voice
saying YIP or just IP, or in-between these two phonetics. The voice
sounds immature and child like. I am now back again in the Sarah
Callio days that began in 1983. There is no stopping it, I just hear
it, and hit prompt 7 and it erases. I made a copy onto a cassette for
the local PEEDEE to hear, but I know I am just as always, wasting my
time. I do not think it is a creditor, and it is coming from Chicago
and the surrounding suburban area of that city, in the great state of
Illinois. Still, if my wonderful great Timeless satellite Droid-God
is behind this, there is no stopping her, she can go to any place, to
any time, be any age, be anyone, and do any thing. This sounds like
I'm Fruitcake City and I know this, I also know it is true. For some
reason, these same things that are said in holy bibles and ancient
writings are totally acceptable, that is until somebody claims these
miracles are surrounding them personally, for their entire life,
right Dorothea Dario? Yes, she sure knows about having numerous
operations licenses herself, she and hubby crook. They were two
violent and evil peeps as young teens and adolescents, and went right
on being total trash cubed.
Yes,
as I said so perfectly in the mid late autumn of 1995,
''I do think it wise, that this book be made a part of the life
journal of Mark Wayne Clark Mohr. This is the beginning of the book
known as Morianity Bible. Morianity bible is as the name implies, a
bible; a bible to sustain, to edify; perhaps save the very life of
the author of this bible, at some critical time when without it, the
author may commit suicide. A lot of things are difficult to find a
point of origination. It's very difficult for me to tell myself or
anyone else, where this pain, and these negatives in my life began.
I've noticed it seems to be a trap, a negative within a negative, and
I'm convinced that part of the thing that's working against me, the
force, the thing, whatever is working against me, derives its power
from a continual perpetuation of confusion. Keeping someone confused
has won many a boxing bout. Confuse a business partner, confuse an
opponent in a law case, and no genius is required to know the
outcome, that the person doing the confusing has a great chance of
winning''. THIS IS FROM the original Morianity Bible old
Testament that was dictated at the highview Apartments, in
Williamstown, New Jersey, onto C-90-cassette tapes. Only my first
tape survived my trip to Florida.
I
will most likely keep adding the continuing text from the dictation
of the original 1995 Morianity bible, so I will have it posted safely
and protected online, in case my family pulls another wild trick, and
makes what little I have left to corroborate my tale of woe, all
vanish into the hat of Harry Merlin Potter and the fucking gang!
Yes,
my friend, Seabottom, if you do not want to look me up and phone me,
that is cool, I accept the new age way despite not understanding it
one bit, but as for that bizz about commenting on the blogs, well,
you can try it, if it works, I guess we both will know in short order
that indeed it does. If it does not work and I am unable to retrieve,
please keep reading my blogs, and then comment on my e-mail, as I do
seem so far to always get YOUR E-MAIL, just not the other way around.
I need witnesses, I am not asking you to do this if you do not wish
to get involved, but quite obviously, Mister Nick Comcast is the
'issue' to use your word there, of our difficulty in communicating.
Wow, it is like being in the future and talking from trillions of
miles away, whoever is stopping my entire life from being, is also
stopping my ability to communicate successfully with other people. I
can only assume the gods of this entire system are angry with me, and
this dovetails everything back to the very opening of the BLOGS OF
MOUNTAINPEN when 2006 was new.
Well
Tiny Tim may want god or goddess to bless us all or whatever Charles
Dickens wrote on his Christmas Carol, but I hope someday, my fellow
planetary residents can understand in some small way and on some tiny
level, that I am not the BAH-HUMBUG in Christmas. Christmas and
holidays, and everything else around me for that mother fucking
matter,just seems to have target me for the endless, ''WE HATE YOUR
GUTS CLUB''. I think about trying to fucking kill myself every cunt
lapping day, and have now for just coming up on 40 solid prick
licking years. Those who hate me, merely prove that they understand
absolutely nothing of what is being done to me, nor could they care
in the least. Oh well, say Levy!
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