JANUARY
10, 2014,
FRIDAY
MORNING AT 2:02
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 72 DEGREES FNHT.
HOLY
MOTHER OF GOD, THIS IS SERIOUS AS A DEAD JACKSON AND A 2009 FAKE BLOG
IDEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Yes
sitting on a few hundred secrets the size of ten majestic level hush
hush cover-ups, is not a day at any beach, by anybody's stretched
mind. Unfortunately, this defines Mark Wayne Mohr to a total tee, and
then some. Still, after an entire year of beyond hell, a bit of other
end tunnel light is glimmering, small as it may be, hay, I've learned
in my hyper-pathetic life not to be greedy, and to appreciate what
little that ever may come my way. The only three years where this law
around me that you could think of as HELL-INTERACTIVE and me inside
this beyond super video game from 50 plus years in the future, would
be, and I have spoken this before so nothing is new at all folks,
1969, 1980, and 1994. For reasons that totally emmereffing elude me
cubed, THESE THREE YEARS DID NOT OPERATE THE WAY ALL THE OTHER YEARS
OF MY ENTIRE DAM ASS LIFE have done, and something for reasons
unfathomable, made these three years totally opposite all others I
have been forced to endure and suffer through, notice I did not say
live, as my life is sub-vampiric, that is not life as we know it,
maybe as Barnabas Collins and Roseann Delaney know it, but that is a
horse of a different cozlor, and this is not a misspelling, but me
this time, fulfilling Mashell and Dawn's claim that I indeed can be a
smart ass when pushed to my limit.
Here
is the tiny break out from my putrid magnetic negatives of the past
nine fucking 24-hour periods of this
so
wonderful year
in
quintessential humorous sarcasm. I
told about my dealings with the metals market as a young man in his
middle twenties, trading
commodities at Clayton Brokerage
with broker Dennis
Caldwell,
and yes, Clayton, as with my mother's nutty sister Barbara the opera
singer, her husband and my wild kooky-bird Uncle Clayton, mentioned
early into my blogging career sometime in 2006 and or 2007; I told
about the wild ''lab technician'', I told all about how I tried to
'off my entertainment world enemies', from a bathtub in a rental home
in Atco, New Jersey; and it all ties perfectly together, that is for
those who understand a tad bit about my personal life, that is
totally all real and true, and crazy as all hell at the same time.
WOW,
and this is just scratching a surface as large as the North fucking
Pole, a tenth of an inch on ice that is miles thick, my good peeps
out here, and bad ones as well!!! So let us now move along a bit
further, and explore a few more details and elucidations regarding
all of this seemingly mysterious and crazy wild crap. Let me talk
about MUSIC, and my life as a music creator, recording it, making it
from normal sources, and making it out of sampled sounds, sampling
and synthesizing and all of that. First, 30 years ago, a
communications giant such as AT&T had central switching offices,
and they were the size of small buildings. Before this century was
out, they were reduced to the size of computers. Today, they have
been compressed to the level in micronization, known as the
silicon-chip. Using this analogy, in 1980, I knew that eventually, I
would be able to build a keyboard that carried the entire music
industry on its back, literally. It could make any sound, any
instrument, any voice, any noise sound, any synthesizer sound, any
combination of any sound, do unlimited musical arrangements around a
one note melody, and do any possible percussion, with total sound
effects, layering, and depths and echos and all of it and a lot more,
and of course all notes would be perfectly pitched to the thousandths
of a musical octave cent. The industry somehow knew , I honestly do
not know how, but they knew that I had this system, even though in
1980, it was in an analogue only format, and was a bunch of junk all
laid out on a living room floor, then put away, then reassembled and
never put back the same way twice no matter how many notes I made to
myself for doing it. If I'd been rich and had my own home and
basement in 1980, things would be different, as this junk would not
have ever been disassembled, and slowly as time and technology
crawled along, I would have found a way to build a mother board or
have paid engineers to do what needed to be done according to my
specifications and plans, so that eventually, this monster keyboard
would be assembled, doing all the things that I said, and no longer
was just lots of junk on a floor, looking like total Hurricane Hell
had struck. I only messed around with this until I was made very ill
on June 4, 1983. After that, I wrote songs, and I recorded them with
simple little amateur home studio equipment, copyrighted what I did,
and that was that. No more KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL, as it was
secretly called by me in 1980, and renamed in 1983, MAGNESONIC.
Thank
you very much for letting me know you are there and all is OK,
Seabottom. I was concerned, and feel a million percent better now.
Yes I have my stuff all on cassette tapes in the United States
Copyright Office, the music, not the screaming and hollering; and to
get copies of it is going to be expensive. I am going to have a man
from a store over to where I live to see if he cannot circumvent the
expensive copying fees imposed by the Library of Congress. After-all,
first, it was not my fault that I lost 99% of my stuff, as you
probably know from reading my tale of woe, I had to make a quick get
away in the dead of a freezing December night back in 2009, from a
totally insane woman, who in my opinion, was in with distant peeps in
the family, and the story is not completely bloggable, because as you
I am sure know, if you accuse peeps of a crime and cannot back it up
properly in court, they can then go onto counter sue for huge damages
resulting in the legal terminology, defamation of character and
slander. I know stuff was done to me, and I know that peeps were
involved in it all, that have huge mega money and power, and out the
ass name recognition; but knowing, and proving, are light years from
each other. This was something told to me quite often, Seabottom old
friend; by a man at the Camden County, New Jersey, Prosecutor's
Office; a Mister Ron Wirtz Senior; all throughout most of the
nineteen-nineties. Yes, I am sorry that you had your share of the
blues, I guess we relate well to each other on this, and also, never
ever underestimate events that seem to just happen, if they interfere
with plans that pertain to us, simple as any of this may be. I
learned long ago not to ignore seeming coincidences, and that I was
safer and better off in the long run to be overly paranoid, than to
be overly trusting and naïve. Yes, if this fellow from the store who
helped me post to the YOUTUBE last year, my song, ''You'll Be
Crossing Over'', can help me on my computer, I will gladly send you
copies eventually when I get mine. I do not know if the stuff can be
downloaded to my files, or whether it can only be listened to, but I
have a nice quality cassette deck all tied into my system along with
the computer, so that anything that comes through the computer can be
recorded onto the cassette machine. Eventually, I plan to purchase
either a CD burner that can plug into the system so that I then can
upload the CD into my computer and burn into my files, or do it in
any manner that is consistent with the way the computer insists on
doing stuff. As you know by know I am sure, I am nearly 60 years old,
and not real smart with these machines, despite inventing a lot of
wild stuff. You see, my day was the day of analogue, and this is
another light year separation deal. I promise you that sound quality
was every bit as good in the eighties with the analogue stuff, you
just had to know exactly how to make it that way, or yes, you would
end up with a very inferior quality in sound. Currently, I have a
music keyboard that is plugged in from the headphone jack of it, into
my home theater system's mixer, and from this, I can make wonderful
cassette copies of many thing, as this mixer has effects and you can
add in many things, vocal tracks, you name it, echo's and reverb's,
the entire sound effects smack. But I have yet to try and go output
on the mixer into the mic jack that is colored pink, in back of my
PC, with a simple plug that has a one eighth stereo male plug on one
end, and the other end it has two male RCA plugs. I have yet to try
and see if I would then be able to either record into my burning
system with Windows Media Player, as well as buy some cheap little
pro tools program and have even more bells and whistles to play with.
The guy that I will have come over will be shown this page on the net
where all my songs that were ever copyrighted, are on, and there is a
download button. When I tried messing with it, the typical millions
of screens and can't do this and can't do that all popped up and as
always, I threw in the frikkin' towel. The cost is 100 for the first
hour and then 30 bucks hourly, I figure 200 dollars tops or about 4
hours work, and all my registration works can either be put into my
files, or if nothing else, if it plays through the computer, as I
said, then I can tape it on my cassette deck. I have learned to get
tapes from audio books, as even though the audio books are voice and
not music, you can see by examining the tape, it is not the lighter
color but the darker brown color, more chrome in the ferric oxide
mix, keeping your ability to record the top high octaves in other
words, and without having a bottom octave coming out super 'bassey'
and heavy as well. Now since these are my own works, and I am the
sole owner and copyright holder of all this material, no law is being
broken in either case. I have my own right or copy right, this is
what that means literally, the right to copy. This is why when I
sampled my kid on that remade 1983 song, I used nothing that she said
after being signed professionally, but something she said t me back
in 1984. I try to never break the rules or the law, I am old and
fragile and frail, and would not last too long in jail, not trying to
rhyme it, but that's the way it goes. So yes, Seabottom, thank you
for your message, sorry I got impatient and worried, and sorry about
all the crap that happened to you. We will talk more on your favorite
topics, they are mine as well, but for totally different reasons I
most likely am presuming. You in my opinion have a real genuine
interest in these topics. With me, my life is making me become sort
of a ''forced-fan'' of these things. I have ad to go down a lot of
very dark and scary roads, literally, and figuratively. I
am supposing that you know about 2008, and what this wild offshoot of
the unknown 'Kennedy' clan, was doing in my life. There is no way it
can be some wild bunch of coincidences.
After the year got going, and the dreams kept coming; I often
wondered if my elusive daughter did not read about the FASCITAR that
I had spoken of and given exact instructions for working it, on blogs
from 2006 and 2007. In any event, as things progressed, I only
thought that my life was wild in the past, and with the McGuire and
Callio branches of this other end of long in-law cousin lines of this
incredible family, branching into the King and the Levy clans as more
marriages in distant cousins became known to me. I did not get this
information through normal channels such as ancestry dot com, mind
you. They never would have anything this extensive, and a lot of the
truths have all been cleaned up and covered up, as I am sure you
would understand, from your particular interest groups. Sometime, let
me know if you or your pals you work with, are into computers, as
this would aid in my attempt at surviving this nightmare and getting
my true story of what has happened to me over the past 45 years or
so, out to a real audience, not just 30-50 peeps, this is not cutting
the mustard. Do you know anything about social media networking and
networking in general, and also about how to get a good webmaster to
build and promote and host your site and tie it to your blog to
increase readership and get it onto all of the search engines? UI
know these things, I just cannot do these things, or I am being
STROPPED by the WOMO-MILITUFORCE, this is very much within the
possibility range, but I admit to not being able to do hardly
anything with this machine. Some of it is lack of know how and
knowledge, and some is enemy hacking and literally being blocked,
sanctioned, stopped, and prevented, covertly somehow, by very
powerful enemies whose vested interest is anything in this world BUT,
having my story ever publicly come out to the world. So I am just
mildly curious what you and your peeps might be able to do, and I
know things and peeps time is not free, we could discuss and
negotiate applicable fees, if indeed anyone ion your circle could
assist and aid me with any of these situations.
Now,
to finish up with my message to my pal Seabottom,
let me get a little bit into how
this family IS ALL PART of all the things that you appear to be
interested in
learning what I know about. I did not start putting it together when
the initial contact from them started in the sixties, and went onto
increase geometrically as the seventies and eighties moved into the
present times. It really was not until 2008, that magical time when I
went off-grid for about two and a half months from February through
May, and in-between this very magical time, since nothing just
happens for sake of nothingness, my friend; this is when forces in
this cosmos were probably more active than if a super nova star was
exploding in every cubic mega light year. Let me just tell you one
thing, and this was never told on any blog, well, not in a direct and
totally detailed way. You have heard me talk about things such as
parallel event and the stock market and much more such as applying
this science to my professional roulette playing back in 1986, and so
on and so forth, but no one on Earth so far has allowed me to prove
that I indeed am the one person, WHO REALLY CAN PROVE, unlike anyone
else alive on this planet, Seabottom my pal, that I can effect the
prices on Wall Street dramatically. Even a time traveler cannot have
as much effect as I can, because this is a controlled experiment from
the future of humanity, and no one is free to do just do whatever
they like, and I got into this quite a bit last year in 2013, only I
told how for the most part, MIND is what is creating this cosmos, and
that Einstein and his famous formula, totally proves all of this, yet
this goes over the heads of everybody, hay, maybe because they need
for it to. Would you for example want to know the exact horrible way
that some loved one of yours is going to meet their fate. I'll speak
now for me, the answer is absolutely NOT. I in fact have to ignore
things all around me, because just my connecting myself into the
reality around me, has effects that I know about 100%, and this 100%
MIND of knowing, is what makes it real, and we could be all day on
this Seabottom, I will never ever bore you. I may end yup making you
half crazy before things are all said and done between us, but I will
never ever bore you. Jesus and the resurrection is the greatest
example. Peeps according to all historical accounts, who knew him,
insisted he appeared different, that he looked quite different. HEV
DID NOT LOOK ONE BIT DIFFERENT, old pal. This same thing works today.
If I were to go out and walk on top of the ocean, people would say
either, oh that is not Mark Wayne Mohr, or wow, Houdini and
Copperfield shared one great magic trick with him, or any number of
things, but peeps who know me, and all of my enemies, would die
before ever admitting that I could ever possibly really have
something incredible. They insist that I am just the eternal freaking
crackpot. So fine, until and unless I can beat this Jesus
Resurrection syndrome, as I've come to call it, and the odds ain't
real pretty for this to happen; then I am just going to suffer on
with my horrible monster problems. But enough boo hoo, thanks again
for the e-mail. Take care, and as I tell all my friends and always
have, keep a healthy 3-9 view. I don't say this t make you paranoid,
but I say it to keep us all in the fight and in the game, against
this horrible evil force that does really exist, and is somehow part
of a subterranean and reptilian distant past on this planet, and I
know this, as in 1987, they tunneled up into my home in Woodlyn, New
Jersey, and the rest I will save for other times.
Ladies
and gentlemen of my wonderful BLOGAUD, to quote Julia Roberts on the
great 1990 Flatliners Movie, “How you doin'”? I have had a couple
of nice things happen to me after two solid weeks of day and night
total fucking hell. My pal resurfaced. I was given my EBT Food
Benefits by th estate of Florida, and not just for February, but for
January as well, they were very nice to me, and I appreciate it
immensely, and want them to know this from the bottom of my heart.
Thank you State of Florida. I did not ask to leave New Jersey or to
have this family do all of this to me. There is even a chance that
they do not consciously know, any of them, that this is all being
done, and they merely are like puppeteers. I wrote another song that
is in one of those three music project groups back from 1983 that in
a recent blog I made highlighted on my copyright form paste in for my
blogs, in the color red. In this song, that is titled, ''113 more
Shiny Big Moons'', the lyrics go exactly as in this discussion about
peeps acting out in ways totally unconsciously and perhaps with no
real waking world understanding behind their behavior, and the
trouble is that I do not have that luxury, I literally have no
conscious and unconscious barrier, I basically see it all the same
and no longer block out very much at all, ever. The lyric actually
goes, ''They think they're driving the car of their life, never
knowing their eyes cannot see''.
Well
L-4 and 'whatever' Congressman Andrews my old 1975 pal with Albert
Pileggi, and yes, you really belted out those tunes for me, and
again, Paul Pedersen said to me, ''I know Congressman Andrews, that's
not him'', here we go, the Jesus
Resurrection Syndrome,
this is exactly what I mean, folks, (JRS) for short, but yes, peeps,
it has been fun. I just wanted to tell you that I mustered the guts
to open the letter from the state before I began the blog, and they
kept me on their Medicaid Cost Share system, and allowed another year
of EBT benefits for me. I am very grateful to them. Between that, and
realizing that I could have sank today and lost my car, and also, my
pal SB is back when I had pretty much given up hope; so three lucky
things exist for me to not totally sit here feeling like a taking a
fucking knife to my dam ass throat, praise GODDESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!
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JANUARY
9, 2014,
THURSDAY
EVENING, AT 9:25,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 72 DEGREES FNHT.
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, you are reading: MORIANITY
PART VII, CHAPTER XXV
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA,
LET
ME SHRINK HALF A FOOT OR SO, AND THEN GO WASH UP, DAVIDRUGS.
555555555555555555555555555555
|
WELCOME
TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS.
Anyone
can join, and the price is 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:
http://www.theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile
views - 2779
My blogs
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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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.
-
Pam Bondi, Attorney General of Florida
Programs
Units
Florida
Attorney General Pam Bondi
Large
Picture
Width: 4080px
Height: 4080px
Stay Connected
Width: 4080px
Height: 4080px
Stay Connected
Florida Toll Free
Numbers:
- Fraud Hotline 1-866-966-7226
- Lemon Law 1-800-321-5366
- Fraud Hotline 1-866-966-7226
- Lemon Law 1-800-321-5366
PLEASE
HELP ME, MIZZ BONDI, MY WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE ENEMIES ARE GOING TO KILL
ME, THIS IS NOT A JOKE OR A HOAX, MY SEVEN YEARS OF BLOGS CONTAIN
INDISPUTABLE MIRACLES THAT PROVE MY WORDS STAND TRUE AND HONEST,
MAHM.
THANK
YOU FOR DOING WHATEVER YOU CAN FOR ME, RON WIRTZ AT THE CCP OFFICE
IN NEW JERSEY WASTED YEARS OF MY TIME AND MADE ME A LOT OF EMPTY
PROMISES. MAYBE YOU WILL BE ABLE TO HELP ME TO GET TO THE BOTTOM OF
ALL OF THIS, MAYBE NOT. I HAVE PEOPLE AGAINST ME THAT ARE NOT
COMPLETELY HUMAN, AND I EVEN HAD EVIDENCE ONCE WHERE A MAN WITH A
REAL ESTATE LICENSE TOLD ME THIS WAS ALL TRUE AND HAPPENING TO ME
BACK IN 1988, A MAN NAMED SCOTT RANSOM OF TODD REALITY BACK IN 1988,
IN NEW JERSEY.
THANK
YOU IN ADVANCE FOR ANYTHING YOU MAY BE ABLE TO FIND OUT AND HELP ME
WITH, I AM NOT THE BAD GUY HERE, THEY ARE, AND HAVE DONE DISPICABLE
AND INHUMAN EVIL THINGS TO ME SINCE THE EIGHTIES. THEY ARE TORTURING
ME, THIS IS WORSE THAN BEING MURDERED, BECAUSE PEOPLE CAN ONLY KILL
YOU ONCE, MIZZ ATTORNEY GENERAL, WHEREAS WITH ME, THEY GO ON PUTTING
ME THROUGH A NEVER ENDING HELLFIRE THAT IS UNSPEAKABLE.
I
GO BY THE BLOG NAME OF MOUNTAINPEN, A.G. BONDI, AND AM ON BLOGGER
DOT COM. MY MUSIC ALSO TELLS MY LIFE STORY, A TINY BIT OF IT IS ON
THE YOUTUBE CHANNEL paulaking2011, AND A LOT MORE OF IT IS
COPYRIGHTED IN THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS UNDER MARK WAYNE MOHR, BORN
12/04/1954. I KNOW YOU WILL DO THE RIGHT THING HERE, MIZZ BONDI.
AGAIN, THANK YOU.
Folks,
a fucking retarded moron can see what is going on if they have been
reading and following my blogs and this MORIANITY for any length of
time. I* did not say it makes sense, although it does to the forces
doing this shit to me all these cunt eating years quite obviously,
as why else would they be doing it? But anyone can see this is now
TWO AUGUST'S, ONE IN 2013 AND ANOTHER ONE IN 1986, involving not
only music but a particular connection through it. Long ago on the
shores over Sicily, folks named this goddess, SCYLLA. When I went
into a self-induced trance at the Cifaloglio guarding job late one
night or really very early on a Sunday morning when and where nobody
was anywhere around, to see the original way that in 1980, the song
was sung to me by this SCYLLA GODDESS on the first week in June,
while I lay physically asleep in my bed at 1802 Robin Hill
Apartments, in Voorhees, New Jersey; as originally, I only
remembered the line about ''Love is for carpenters, and the ending
part that never made it into the original song done in 1980 about
when I get home and see her on TV, making as much sense to me then
in 1980, as a hamburger without the hamburger. Mashell Daniels and
Dawn-Marie King would accuse me of being a ''smart-ass'' here, but I
am being anything but, folks. You can wrap this up in the American
flag, and take it straight to the TD Bank of Toronto, and give Mizz
Rippa a big fat ass kiss on the mouth for me while there, Regis; and
yes; stay away from this family and that
radio station of theirs, if you want to remain healthy
old pal, as they sure ended my mother fucking life as I knew it, YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Last
year we began exploring in a deeper and more 'moaningful
way', Professor Kaku old pal and others out here; the
varying factions of the ESS, or the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND
SOCIETY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I had totally planned by this time in
early twenty-fourteen to have taken this way further, and the
WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES knew this quite well. To avoid me doing this and
lots of things that they knew I was planning on doing such as that
law suit and other shit all discussed back in the second half of
last fucking cunt year good peeps; THEY POURED ON A MONSTER
HYPERTIME DEATH SIEGE ON ME, as a major successful fucking
distraction, and whopper plumber JOE, it worked!!!!!!!!!
What
I am going to get into soon folks, is a comparison chart of how
things were going from New Years Day just over
a year ago in 2013, up through the 27 day in August, and then
from 28 August of 2013, right up to the
present day in 2014. This is when I added some techno-pop
vocal talent into the harmony track on the 1983 re-written tune
owned legally by me and 100% legally copyrighted in all of its
forms, ''YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
All that I did was take the last word ''OVER''
in its two syllables, and square wave it to a greater match to the
sourced intro sampling itself, and then re-pitch it to go to six
harmonic notes, and layer the entire thing four times with slightly
lower and higher volumes mixed in as well as slightly more distance
perceptions, and then layer the entire harmony 4 word part, and then
brighten it with extreme bias, so when it is mixed into the normal
sonic blend again, it is not mechanical sounding, nor is it
excessively bright, but perfectly blended for realism, and done just
the way my daughter used to love to do her great stuff in the
nineties. I know they hear through the headphone somehow, whoever
THEY are, because ever since I did this, back on the 28 August day
last fucking summer, my magnetic attack of botbar days went from
mildly annoying as hell, to off the fucking scale monstrously
inconceivable, just as it all began back in late 1986 and into 1987
when this shit did a Sabrina
Collins, and all began. Looking back at all my
shit over at Bonjovi's place when this was all originally worked on;
I can see the entire thing now for what it all was. They tried to
give me crappy product and were not trying to help me one bit, to
get my story out. They in other wirds, WERE IN ON IT WITH EVERYONE
ELSE, AS SOON AS I MADE CONTACT WITH THEM AND BEGAN WORKING ON MY
MUSICAL PROJECTS THERE. Even my old ex-bizz partner Paul Pedersen,
said, ''the work is shotty for a professional studio'', and sounds
more like, and I quote him, so sue him and not me if you want to;
''a glorified Casio production''. I
WILL AGREE. I asked over and over for them to do things
differently, and they said they will, they will, they will, and they
wouldn't. Talk is cheap. The letters are spaced three apart on the
top alpha-row on all keyboards, the 'W' and the 'T', but wow what a
difference these letters make when the letters of ALK follow them.
Anyone can talk. I have yet to
find anyone who can WALK!!!!!!!!!!!
This
fucking goddess and this problem with music does not go back to
2013, 1997, 1980, 1966, 1954, or 1800. It goes all the way back to a
powerful situation where I was standing on one side of a fence about
a meter high, made of a lovely colored wood of some type. There was
a path on my side where I was, and a path on the other side, but
over there, it was about seven yards from this fence where my path
was right along the fence-line. Beyond the path on the other side
from me was a structure about 50 yards to my left and up a small
incline. It was cottage-like in appearance, and was of a lovely
subtle color. Suddenly, Scylla began walking out of this cottage
down a little lane that led to the path that was on her side of the
fence-line. When she came to approximately where I was n the other
side, I starred at her. She is more beautiful than five million top
Manhattan fashion models if you could literally force them all
together into one unfathomable woman. She was in her middle late
twenties, and not usually the way she came to me in ''visions'' in
other times in my current lifetime or dream-downs off of the
Astral-Plane, as usually she appears at the age she really eternally
exists at, sixteen years to the day, and it always her birthday. It
was the year 1997, and I was sound asleep in bed in my home at
Harvard and Yale Avenues at 112 Harvard, in Somerdale, New Jersey.
This was somewhere late in the summer time, and about four months
before my mother was suddenly struck down at 4 or 5 in the morning
with an unknown medical catastrophe that no medical expert in any
field ever could get to the bottom of, the day after Christmas of
that 1997 year. She said hello to me and I knew we had always known
each other, forever and ever and ever, there was no time when we did
not. She blurted out to me that she was going to end the world,
quote end of quote. I was shocked and appalled, and begged her not
to. She looked at me for a minute with those huge lovely brown eyes
of here, chocolate brown, with her long hair dangling down from her
head at 6'7'', down to past her knees, and she replied to me, and I
quote this verbatim, ''BECAUSE YOU LOVED
DIANA, I WILL SPARE THE WORLD FOR A WHILE''. Then she was
just gone, and then I suddenly just, ''WOKE UP''. This of course
stayed with me huge mother fucking time ever since. Why did she put
my love for Diana in a past-tense, and why did she care whether I
loved Diana, I wondered so hard for so many years. Of course now, I
have all the answers, maybe, the fucking gods, and goddesses, I WISH
THAT I DID NOT, Mister President Obama, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tell that
to the fucking National Security Agency for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If
anyone out here thinks you have figured out anything here,
don't god dam fool yourself, YO. Even I am light mother fucking
years from figuring out the great SARAH-STACEY JUPITER ISIS KRASSLE
(SSJKK-PIMC)!!!!!!!! Relax
Aunt Geraldine and Cuzz Donald!
I
AM IN A SERIOUS MOTHER FUCKING DEATH MAGNETIC. I CANNOT GET TWO DAYS
TO STRING TOGETHER NOT SUPER CUNT SUCKING HORRIBLE OR (BOTBER), THIS
YEAR SO FUCKING CUNT LAPPING FAR. TODAY WAS SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR,
THE SIXTH ONE NOW OF 2014, YESTERDAY EEKED BY OK. I WILL TELL YOU
THE DETAILS OF THIS FUCKING COCK SUCKING DISASTER DAY, INVOLVING
ALMOST LOSING MY AUTOMOBILE, ALMOST DROWNING, AND THEN BEING STOLEN
FROM BY PIGS UP HERE ON MY FLOOR, ONLY 5 DOLLARS, STILL, THIS DAY IS
BEYOND SUPER FUCKING BAD, PAM BONDI, LIVING WITH DRUG ADDICTS AND
THIEVES IS REAL FUN, PAM BONDI, FLORIDA ATTORNEY GENERAL.
Starting
early this afternoon, we have had a flash flood here in Fort Pierce,
like nothing I have ever seen in my years here since middle December
of 2009. The closest to it was the day the lovely 16 year old blond
was flexing her bicep over at the Harvest place, and the storm
immediately afterward, took the power away from the entire city for
more than an hour. All the times when the weather is relatively
normal and calm, I'll go to get onto my computer and millions of
stupid alerts are all over the place, annoying you to death. Today
when REAL FUCKING SHIT, DANGEROUS FUCKING SHIT IS HAPPENING, they
don't say a fucking word, right old buddy Kevin Bacon of the
Findings Withholding Club of
Scientifica and Flatliners??????? I go to do a couple
little errands and almost lost my automobile. It is pouring
torrential rain outside, the entire town is flooding up. I start to
drive to the store to buy some food-snacks, and at this little
stupid mini-circle area where about six roads all work into, and I
always just about take the wrong one and have to make a fucking
UUUEEE, I went to make the UUUEEE not knowing the terrain, thinking
it is wet everywhere. The shoulder does not exist near these condo
fucking developments along this road that heads into Virginia Avenue
and where a huge traffic back up was doing its Susie Quattro thing
times fifty five. Don't die on me Susie, there was no GAWNUM when
you were in grade school. So I drive right into a river and am
floating, except for one tiny bit of where my rear tires were making
ground contact. Either my car has four wheel drive and I only
thought it had front wheel drive, or a real Poolroy miracle
happened. Somehow the entire car was able to reverse itself, get
back onto the road, and survive sinking into this nightmare
shituation. The battery is new and also survived, but the light and
the Macy-Tone did activate at first, and then went off, and then
once more it happened when I was further down the road and in
another fairly deep water flooded area of road, but I was following
other cars and could not do anything but hope I wouldn't fucking
cunt stall out. I drove instead of to my normal errands, to a local
auto shop kind of place, and shut it off and waited a few minutes,
to see if it would re-start, knowing that if it did not, they at
least could get me going and I could then drive a mile or so back to
my building and most likely all would be OK when things totally
dried out on the following day. But it started up and things were
OK. I was going to buy a pair of wiper blades for the windshield, as
both of my present blades are falling apart. In New Jersey, cops
would pull you over in a fucking heartbeat, I will say that the
freedoms here in Florida making going back to Jersey a total no-no,
especially in lieu of recent news items proving how non-paranoid I
was back there, when I said enemies would rig traffic patterns, and
fuck with me all the time, and I KNEW THAT IT WAS HAPPENING. After
the car tarted up fine, I drove away from the auto store and to the
local DEELS store for my snacks, and also bought a $5.00 carton of
assorted forks and spoons and knives that I have been wanting for
several years. When I came home, somehow this bag fell out of my
hand on the sixth floor where I fucking cunt live with pigs raised
by pigs, cubed; and when I saw that I did not have this item, and
went to look, an empty DEELS BAG was right there near the elevator
area. Some fucking cunt lapping sp--- took my shit, must need it
more than I do. Hay, my lack of PC is gonna' get fucking worse and
worse, as this death siege continues to pound and pummel me to
mother fucking death, fagot world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BANK
ON THAT!!!!!!!!!!! After
this all happened, I began this blog, but let me finish the story,
folks. I needed to go to the K-MART which was my first original
destination, to buy a jump suit. I wear this type outfit that
stretches and covers just the legs and private parts of the body. I
sleep in it and use it as pajamas, as well as for lounging around
the crib all day. Last night my last pair that I had totally ripped
to shreds. I really needed this, but the weather that never ever is
like this in this town, suddenly turned on me like a ravenous
starving monster with an agenda of mountain sized appetite. When I
left the DEELS store with my snacks and my fucking silverware, or
now, some dirt bag's silverware, one of my scum bag thieving sixth
floor druggie nabes; the weather was too bad, and even though I
started towards the K-Mart, the second that I approached Route One
to go there after exiting the DEELS STORE PARKING LOT, I could see
cars backed up for as far as the fucking cunt eye could see, so I
did another UUUEEE, this time on a relatively dry street, and just
drove home, and then was robbed, as I said.
Also
my new medical condition where if I so much as inhale without mouth
breathing, the stench is sickening, like infection and toxic waste
mixed together. It seemed to begin right after the
TOOTHACHE-MAJOR-BUTTON crap that I blogged about late last year that
was bei9ng done to me by WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES, what else? I will have
to call my mother fucking doctor and ask if I need them as my PCP,
to refer me to an ears nose and throat specialist, wow, 1984-2014,
something about that number 4, right gorgeous teen lovely Labber?
Where are you when I really mother fucking need you, PROFESSOR
KAKU
sir???????????????????????????
JANUARY
9,2014,
THURSDAY
EVENING AT 6:00
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 69 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
MUST BE 100; FEELS 89.
My
cunt huffing MPB is now 52% for DECEMBER-2013. My MPB for 2013 has
CROSSED OVER, not Academy Road to Grant Avenue, Cousin Carol Mason,
and any old boyfriends from your twelfth grade class, that made it
onto the Public Broadcasting Network, that changed the mood and the
Moog of the planet, in ways that I will be eternally connected into
and through, by going on with this same wild new music technology,
after Bruce Pennock of 2 Beaver Drive, Senator Trout, also made his
everlasting fucking imperfect impressions on my juvenile adolescent
brain, back in 1972 at age seventeen and a half give or take. Where
the fuck are you really, when I need you, Mister fucking ass
MACY????? Yes peeps, my MPB for the year 2013 has indeed crossed
over to the very highest possible percentage amount, even if the
filthy disgusting dog-shoe WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCE manages to cunt eating
BOTBAR ALL FOUR OF THE REMAINING 2013 DAYS. YES PEEPS, TODAYS BOTBAR
TIMES 2 AND 8 FOR 10 IN THE PAST TEN DAYS, BRINGS ME TO A DICK
LICKING MOTHER FUCKING 34x1 MPB FOR MUFF DIVING
2013!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HERE
I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. THE SIXTIES WERE GREAT BUT NOW IT'S TOO LATE.
SO DO NOT SIT THERE BROKEN HEARTED; COME AND SHIT, DON'T SAY YOU
FARTED!!!!!!!!!!
YEAH,
ROLLEM UP AND BE A MAN, STRANDED ON A TOILET BOWL, THERE GOOD OLD
MID LATE SIXTIES TV SHOW CALLED, ''BRANDED''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now
this shit was fucking quality, and quality is all mother fucking
gone and dead forever and ever and ever and ever and ever,
folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Maybe I shouldn't go to Burger King, but to a
Sike Ward. Then off to get my feast on across the great water
company of Atlantic City, New Jersey, the ACMUA, www.ACMUA.com/
as I mix up two and tow and sue and use and on and on, or do I. Am I
both MIND HACKED AS WELL AS MACHINE HACKED? As far as the great
mighty Professor Kaku thinks, if this NCC-CLOUD replaces the current
day internet and we all merge into it whenever we choose to do; time
in this cloud is like anything in cyberspace, under totally
different rules that govern over it.
*****************
OH
SHIT
**********************
2014
DATE-----TOTAL BOTBARS-----TOTAL DAYS-----MPB
JANUARY
01----------00------------------------------01-------------00
JANUARY
02----------01------------------------------02-------------50
JANUARY
03----------02------------------------------03-------------67
JANUARY
04----------03------------------------------04-------------80
JANUARY
05----------03------------------------------05-------------60
JANUARY
06----------04------------------------------06-------------67
JANUARY
07----------05------------------------------07-------------71
JANUARY
08----------05------------------------------08-------------63
JANUARY
09----------06------------------------------09-------------67
THIS
YEAR IS A MOTHER FUCKING BOTBAR-NIGHTMARE!
THIS
PROVES EVIL IS REAL, AND THAT A PERSONAL AND REAL SATAN-DEVIL
DOES IN FACT, FUCKING COCK SUCKING ABSOLUTELY EXIST, AND LIVES RIGHT
HERE ON THIS DISEASED MOTHER FUCKING
EARTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ALL
OF THIS FUCKING HORRENDOUS HORSE SHIT leaves
me with lots of GAWNUM-QUIZZING
WORK
to do later on, or (GQW), as there is much more to this than
silently asking a question twice, of a deck of cards with aces
through nines, and getting two digits called the TRANCED GAWNUM
ROOT, or the (TGR) number. Folks, I'll be talking to the great
GAGA-CAT, and you may gladly TAKE THIS TO THE MOTHER FUCKING BANK OF
TORONTO, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Folks,
I am not here to toot my horn and say look at me, I'm a mother
fucking super prophet. But the facts do indeed SPEAK FOR THEMSELVES
HERE, KIND LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I MEAN REALLY, am I wrong???
YIP,
Chicago is my kind of town, as was my distant cousin, Alice
Gallagher's, before she married my mother's Aunt Maud Huntington
Benjamin's cousin, Herbert Huntington's son, Arthur, from Braintree,
Massachusetts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, you are reading: MORIANITY
PART VII, CHAPTER XXIV
LET
ME SHRINK HALF A FOOT OR SO, AND THEN GO WASH UP, DAVID! But let us
quickly end all this for today with a little parlor magic lesson.
EVERYTHING IS A TRICK, EVEN TIME TRAVEL OF ANY KIND. Shades
of my Echelon-Towers Building, or Ventnor dreams, and other ''alien
abduction experiences shared around the planet''???
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A LITTLE HACKING AGAIN,
BOBBY MCDOWELL, JUST IN CASE YOU ARE INTERESTED, I SUPPOSE MY
WONDERFUL KID HAS NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN WATCH HER LOVELY SNOW
AND MESS WITH POOR OLD ME, ENDLESS TWO THOUSAND 8.
|
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WELCOME
TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS.
Anyone
can join, and the price is 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:
http://www.theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/
AS
OF 5:09 PM-EST, 8 JANUARY, 2014, STATS ON BLOG:
|
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile
views - 2779
My blogs
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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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.
Now
before we complete the blog, please see this:
THESE
LOVELY NUMBERS OF
555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555.
help
of old pal McDowell; not the Philly-nurse from 1963.
I
HOPE YOU ARE BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
Things
repeat, but you all are not getting it yet!!!
Watch
the market FLY the rest of the week, the damage is done!
I
WOULD B FREE 2 ESCAPE THIS FUCKING HOUSE
OF FUCKING HORRORS.
I was actually happy 4 one hour, but Diana was not through warning
me yet.
FUCK
THIS EVIL ASS ROTTEN WORLD.
I
LIVE WITH THIEVES AND DRUGGIES AND THUGS, AND SCUM. I MUST BE ONE
LUCKY LITTLE BUM.
AS
OF 5:09 PM-EST, 8 JANUARY, 2014, STATS ON BLOG:
|
I
am going to tell quite a few things on this blog, folks. I won't be
too long on any one point or topic, just opening up doors today. I
have suffered a horrible opening to the year of twenty-fourteen, and
my personal PCN is not at all compatible with the PCN that
twenty-fourteen comes to, when adding up the two digits and seeing
if at least one digit of both these items, my number and this year,
are in the total or the PCNT. There are many things the GAWNUM is
able to do, in fact, it can reveal answers on a scale of virtual
omniscience, but it requires the skill of a seasoned pro to work its
magic, and then the aid of a super computer is needed or else you'd
spend a lifetime, or five, trying to long-hand your way
mathematically into doing all the work, when a program can be
written to give you comparison answers and other stuff, in a second
of time, freeing the user up to just apply their skills of operating
the GAWNUM. This can be used as a game, and used on a first grade
level and will perhaps some day, by grade-schoolers to see if little
Johnny is compatible or not with little Susie, but that is all fine
and well, but is not even a whiff of smoke in the forest fire, as
far as just what this tool can really accomplish, and I personally
know this for numerous reasons, one could even get me killed by
haters of the American system on an equal footing with me, the only
difference being, I used to love it all, until they all turned on me
and decided they wanted to slowly and agonizingly fucking torture me
to death. This would make anybody turn on what they once thought was
pretty great and cool, and I'm no mother fucking exception, folks.
All
I know for sure about anything, is that I was born to suffer in a
very magical boiling pot called the Huntington Curse, and I have
been doing exactly that since the day my mom dropped me on my head
on the streets of Southwest Philadelphia on the way to a baby doctor
appointment, and I was the fucking baby, goo goo goo
goo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Laugh, Mike
McNulty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Are
any of you catching any of the stuff on the television? Are
any of you seeing any of this, or is my subtle attempt to say as
little as I can, a mere waste of my time? I can only wonder,
as this new world of the internet is as dopey as can be. No one does
anything or says anything other than for very rare occasions.
Humanity via the internet has become what was feared by my
generation half a century ago. We've been
taken over by automation, and when any of us really need help, good
luck getting any from a robot or an android,
for at least 100 years.
JANUARY
8, 2014,
WEDNESDAY
EVENING AT 5:32
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 69 DEGREES FNHT.
MORIANITY
PART 7, CHAPTER 0023
I
am going to relax with my dinner and some television. Later on, this
blog will continue to be worked on, and then later posted up, 'the
fawces willing'; and with the help of old
pal McDowell; not the Philly-nurse from 1963.
Between
the shit they did to me in the casinos and the shit they were
stealing, they were robbing me blind and laughing at me and
mocking me, and what did I ever mother fucking do to any of
these mobbed up Sinatra fucking jerk off PIGS
was
my eternal question. This is a question that to this very day
of 8 January, 2014, I REMAIN WITHOUT AN ANSWER, the closest
one ever given to me I got somewhat illegally by bugging my
own mother fucking car in the winter of 1988, and got my
realtor to repeat a story that he had told to me on an earlier
occasion, and you all know what he told me, it has been
blogged over and over and if I hear or see it again, I’ll
fucking ass CROSS OVER ACADEMY ROAD AND ONTO GRANT GODDESS DAM
1984 AVENUE, WITH A MILLION SORE THROATS
and
getting down to ten, or we were but ten, or whatever, great
Washington, DC Copyright
Examiners!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HOLY
MOTHER OF FUCKING GOD, THIS IS SERIOUS AS A DEAD JACKSON, OR A
FAKE BLOG IDEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2014
DATE—–TOTAL BOTBARS—–TOTAL DAYS—–MPB
JANUARY
01———-00——————————01————-00
JANUARY
02———-01——————————02————-50
JANUARY
03———-02——————————03————-67
JANUARY
04———-03——————————04————-80
JANUARY
05———-03——————————05————-60
JANUARY
06———-04——————————06————-67
JANUARY
07———-05——————————07————-71
I
told about my dealings with the metals market as a young man in his
middle twenties, trading commodities at Clayton Brokerage with
broker Dennis Caldwell, and yes, Clayton, as with my mother's nutty
sister Barbara the opera singer, her husband and my wild kooky-bird
Uncle Clayton, mentioned early into my blogging career sometime in
2006 and or 2007; I told about the wild ''lab technician'', I told
all about how I tried to 'off my entertainment world enemies', from
a bathtub in a rental home in Atco, New Jersey; and it all ties
perfectly together, that is for those who understand a tad bit about
my personal life, that is totally all real and true, and crazy as
all hell at the same time. Crazy, in that no one else on this planet
has gone through anything like this, and I know it, as you would
have to be a blithering fucking moron, NOT TO KNOW IT,
BRAH!!!!!!!!!!!! I told how I found a mountain of tossed electronic
equipment, including tons of wires and connection plugs, and bought
mind bending recording equipment fro a dime on the dollar from a
studio where I was working, and how three huge things all took place
in 1983 that most likely led up to my observing a power drain on my
telephone, and the presence of tapping and interference, not that
this was new, since my father was also the topic of ongoing
investigations on federal levels here in the United States, for
things that in all honesty, I have no clue as to the details about,
only that such shit did exist back in the sixties when I was too
young, and he was not around the New Jersey area, but down south, as
I am now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW,
and this is just scratching a surface as large as the North fucking
Pole, a tenth of an inch on ice that is miles thick, my good peeps
out here, and bad ones as well!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
told why I was angry as piss and all get out cubed, at the EW in
1983; and they went right on stealing and teasing, and messing with
me; year after year; and I came to learn only well into this
twenty-first fucking century, that there is
a power structure in this NEW WEIRD ODOR, that many call
the NEW WORLD ORDER, same pukey shit to me, as vomit equals vomit;
but I learned that all of the powerful industries are one
super giant demonic evil peta capitalopolous, if I may
invent this term, and even if I may not, there it is; and so I was
fighting one huge EVIL EMPIRE, the casinos, the entertainment peeps
and music world, those covering up the power behind what and why the
paranormal shit is indeed all what exactly it is, and the list goes
on and on, believe me.
I
watched years go by, one after another, and laws get made and
changed that were beyond any possibility of being mere coincidental
events, that were slowly adding to my agony and pain in my exact
very personal situation. Things then went onto escalate in ways that
no blog or book, and no author, could ever possibly even attempt to
ever ever successfully relay and relate to those not inside the very
same fucking experience, not even a dozen Tolstoy's and a dozen of
their marvelous books like ''WAR AND PEACE''. It just is beyond the
laws of fucking physics, or as Judge Judy puts it super well on her
great TV court show, ''It ain't happening''. Whose playpen any of
this is is not even slightly relevant, it just is not happening. Not
ever can my hell be fully told or even partially explained to those
not experiencing even a small portion of it. It is 8:33 on this
Wednesday fucking evening now, and it is 66 Degrees Fahrenheit, in
case anyone anywhere gives a shit about the city of Fort Pierce,
Florida, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ever
since an hour or so ago, my dirt bag nabe from next to me is
slamming in and out. I lose the other two jerk offs, and then he is
instantly made cosmically fucking ready to step up to the plate, and
take their mother fucking place, annoying me with SLAM SLAM BOOM
BOOM, AND LOTS OF NOISE INSIDE HIS PLACE AS WELL, WHENEVER THE MOOD
STRIKES HIM, 24-7. I LIVE IN THE QUINTESSENTIAL FUCKING SHITHOUSE OF
HELL, but any and all Public housing is like this, for those from my
side of the tracks, it is an experience like being in a fucking
concentration camp during the great war. For those in the family of
rats, it is just another day, the sun comes up and goes down, and
what else is new?
First
off, I will be telling some stuff that is pretty out-there, even for
the 'Mountainpen'. If this is not a time where you're in the mood
for this; it may indeed be the time to click
that ''NEXT-BLOG'' button at the top of my blog, and come
back here when you have a stronger constitution and stomach. Call
this first paragraph, your official Caveat Emptor, ladies and
gentlemen; as now you cannot say you were not warned. I was
originally planning to do this not as a blog, but as one of my
UNBLOGGABLE-DOCUMENT pages. I
have a few, and it means just exactly what any of you out there with
some operational gray matter upstairs, thinks it means; and most
definitely no less. I also cannot promise to keep my language
totally clean and civil, but I'll try!!!
Folks,
do you really think there is one chance in five trillion fucking
hell-fires that DAWN-MARIE KING was able to get herself released
from that NEW JERSEY REHAB CLINIC in Seacaucus, with that beyond
fucking Einstein perfect caper; that voided out her need to complete
a prison sentence, without help from VERY
POWERFUL SCOTT RANSOM TYPE PEOPLE?
Let
me clue you in on some stuff, my Blogaud. If you know the story,
fine, if not, read the blogs that tell all about it. I think those
who follow me, and few they may be, all know all the shit about me
and my life, and some know more than I do, and most are FAMILY
anyway, and definitely know more about me than I know about myself.
This was planned out and done mto take me and put me into a very
vulnerable position. They knew all about my past, my fear of large
women, my fear of alcoholics, my fear of losing control over a
situation, the major ingredients of my kidnapping under Stockholm
Syndrome that took place as soon as they were able to successfully
carry out the initial phase of this incredible family plan, busting
the big drunk chick out of rehab and keeping her from going to jail.
I had discussed maybe living with Ann and Dawn in a possible down
the road arrangement, but did not think it would happen for a year
or more from the time it actually did, and I never thought that the
second I got under their control, they would turn on me and treat me
so monstrously and horrendously, and I never would have believed
that two facilities that are there for the general welfare of
innocent people and especially those with special needs from special
education backgrounds such as myself with admitted major psychiatric
problems, caused by a lifetime of persecution from some fucking cunt
eating invisible force and enemy, where even saying this truth,
makes me a psychotic delusional crazy person, or said even better,
allows me to be placed into a totally non winnable situation. I
speak of the two hospitals that after telling them I was scared to
return to the family in September of 2008, they both forced me to go
back with them, and this would be the Kessler Memorial Hospital of
Hammonton, New Jersey, along with one day later, the Atlantic City
Medical facility known in more recent times and years of this
twenty-first century, as Atlanticare. Do I believe this was all part
of one giant plan and conspiracy from a source of my
WOMO-MILITUFORCE ENEMIES? My answer back to that is how can anyone
ever fucking seriously ask that question of me? There is only one
answer and that is of course I do, because it is of course, the
fucking cunt truth so help me GODDESS ISIS-JUPITER SSJKK. Jane
Whoreslut Witchbitch Diseaseweeds, just nailed me again, with page
eleven of eleven; so I must of course cock sucking compensate now,
with lots of fives. HERE WE GO!!!
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MORIANITY
PART
SEVEN,
AND
PLEASE BELIEVERS
AND L-4
FOLKS,
TRY
AND
HAVE
YOURSELVES
A
VERY
VERY
NICE
DAY,
AS YOU
CONTINUE
TO READ
CHAPTER
NUMBER
0023,
OF THE BLOGS OF THE MOUNTAINPEN, AHA-AHA MIKE MCNULTY!
****ON
BLOGGER SINCE JANUARY 2006
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PROFILE VIEWS---2840
MARK
WAYNE MOHR © 2006-2014
My blogs
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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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.
SHARKEY
SAYS, THAT HE WILL ALWAYS BE,
SORRY
ABOUT POUNDING SO HARD ON YOUR FLOOR, RICHARD BARF KARPF, BUT IT
MADE A GREAT DRUM SOUND, AND I WANTED TO USE IT ON ALL REAL GOOD
GIRLS, AND SONGS, AND SO, I DID!!!
THE
GREATEST FISH IN THE WHOLE DAM BAY, WHO ELSE?
TIME
TRAVELER WRESTLER JESSE KNOWS THIS!
HE
KNEW IT IN 1965 AND IN 1986, HUH SAL?
Now
if you wish to view my true likeness, you need to cut and paste
from blogger dot com where I appear, onto your own office or word
document system, and then click onto my photo below, and then when a
small colored symbol prompt pops up, these will be the 6 adjustments
you need to make, in order to restore my true likeness. From top to
bottom, 1-6, adjust as follows, then click off and the photo will
change: 1---(+11%), 2---(+3%),
3---(-10%), 4---(-18%), 5---(12%), 6---(1.20). Follow
these (+), (-), and number settings. If you make the photo wider, I
will appear to be fatter, and if you make the photo longer and more
rectangular, I will appear to be thinner, than my true appearance.
It is set for exactly the way it should have come out originally,
but because as usual, I did not get my money's worth; it did not.
This is why we all look much fatter on the television. For reasons
that elude me, they do not properly compensate the video
reproduction of their transmissions. Of course, how many of you are
as tired as me of the cable and maybe all network broadcasting,
where the video and the audio for ten or more years are about 2
seconds out of proper synchronization. I sometimes force myself not
to look at the mouths of those speaking, but try it, you will see, I
don't imagine stuff, nor make stuff up. I really don't have the
time.
http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
***888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888******
Eventually,
I will find a way to get these images properly into my documents of
my computer, so that it is not just a cut and paste job. Then maybe
I can send the photo-bucket peeps, a new photo of this, that will
post up instead of this horrible non-likeness. So to see me
properly; adjust to those settings, thank you. The wide to long
angle is perfect so if you change it, please, unless you want me to
look extra fat or extra thin, as did the copy place who took my
money, back about a year after I started blogging, and Ed Lynch and
a lady who also was a patron at the Public Library of Hammonton, New
Jersey, helped get my CD-PHOTO transferred onto the photo-bucket,
and then onto my blogger dot com web-page.
FOLKS,
I WILL TELL YOU A LOT MORE ABOUT THE EDUCATOR
FACTION OF THE EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND,
AND JUST WHAT THEY HAVE BEEN DOING WITH THINGS LIKE GODS, ALIENS,
SAUCERS, PARANORMAL ACTIVITY, AND ALL OF US; FROM PYRAMIDS TO ANY
MIRACLE OR UNEXPLAINED THING THAT ANY OUT HERE CAN POSSIBLY EVER
THINK OF TO ASK ME, but first; I will say what needs to be said for
the blogs of this time. Then we will move back into this powerful
topic. I will not forget!
I
am bruising and cruising, and riding the tide of misery, Mister
Plato; my old friend from so dam long ago. How lucky these normal
folks are, not to remember so much, or said better perhaps, being
able to come into this videogame with top end programming. Even
jacking into this super cool virtual reality, relative to some
greater so-called more real-reality beyond our lives here; the best
programs allow one to jack in and enter this side of the screen,
wormhole, or whatever it 'really' is; with a completely erased prior
memory of anything. It heightens the excitement of this videogame
tremendously; and my cheaper program may have worked for most of my
youth, but early into my jacked-in adult-hood, it began to break
down on me, and hence; I began to remember the other side of the
screen, more and more and more and more and more. GET IT yet
anybody?, integrated southern schools of the Latecomers Club all
notwithstanding. W-O-W!
WHEN
THE CAT IS AWAY, THE WOMO-MILITUFAWCES PLAY!
Well
great peeps, let's get down to CASES
now, as promised.
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What
I now will tell all of you, may get me most likely sent off to Buzz
Island, or perhaps even killed by TAWF. But as I said on that song
opening intro quite some time ago, ''HERE WE
GO''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Some
of you know about Haddon Township High School and the Guidance
Counselor, the goddess only knows how he spelled that wild Italian
name of his, Mister Jaqamini, if spelled as pronounced; and how he
recommended my attending the special-education school, a mile and a
half or so away, in Haddonfield, New Jersey; whose teachers that
were my five main ones, while there until the end of January in
1973, when I reached the age of eighteen years and two months; were,
and in order first to final; Mrs. Marola in February of 1969 through
late June of that year, and then in chronological order, Mister
Richard Marcucci, Mister David Leigh Smith, Misses Mildred B. Young,
and Mister Daniel Mackey. If I were to take just these five nice
folks and put them into a magical ball of a sort, as if turning them
into one entity; this entity would make the Wizard Merlin, and about
90% of the ancient wisdom's of the Chinese Culture of antiquity;
appear somewhat tame in a comparison. I promise you that, WOMO and
MO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, let us just
open here with Mrs. Marola and Mister Marcucci, those who were my
legal educators between 9-3 five days weekly for the basic 180
school day calendar years in 1969-1971; only things are never as
simple, with me; as 1-2-3, huh Diana my endless love????????????????
Now
before we go back to this topic, and just to drive Terry Egghead of
Egg Harbor City, New Jersey, as nutty as all dam get out, squared; I
will sidetrack off this point and onto a tangent. Things connect up,
but only I know how and why, and only I need to, at least for right
now, without renaming Dawn King, all over again, on or off of any
Easter Sunday's of abduction cases, and or any alien invasions; or
any other wonderful fantasies, enjoyed by all the Ufologist peeps,
and those on similar treks and
pathways!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What I will now tell
you has to do with yesterday, or when I started this blog, it would
have been today, but today turned into tomorrow while I was doing
it, because time passes, or as gorgeous Paula Patton might put it,
'' Time's a wasting''. Well lovely Paula, we'll get it all back, so
don't worry too much about it, and just ask the great Gary Stone,
should you not wish to take my word for it. I am quite sure that the
mighty land owner, BIG-O will confirm sending my mom that lovely
post card in 1988 to our Moorestown address. How I just love that
wonderful adorable terrific entertainment industry, and the media in
general; all the same thing; spewing their lies about viral
videos
and so many other things. There
is no such thing as a viral video.
All posts go to a start-page. There is no way anyone anywhere except
for those who post it up, even know it is going up there. There are
folks inside journalism, scanning this start-page, for those videos
they choose and decide to promote. These will 'go viral' now.
They're not going anything, they're being, and this is not a pun,
MC, I promise, ''PUSHED''! If you have 1000 friends and they are all
young, and all are popular people, and have many friends; and you
tell them about a post you put up, and send their cellphones the
link; now maybe you will get between 3-30 thousand hits. Who knows?
Then if the media catches it, and likes it, for whatever reason,
really likes it; they
PUSH IT,
they promote it; so it goes viral. Why wouldn't it? They broadcast
it over their national television networks for one thing, and many
other things, and from there, sure; then it takes off. You can
choose to 'pay-promote', by Googling sites that will pop up from
typing on a Google search, two words, ''Youtube Views''. You can
then pay networking sites to ''deliver'' to your account, on any
video you paste the link to them on, anything from bulk amounts of
comments, views, likes; or all of the above. If you have a hundred
grand to promote yourself; you can become an internet star, in your
fantasies. Unless the media gets behind you and likes both your
stuff, and you personally, FORGET IT. You can pay to have a million
views, and you will still be a silent internet celeb, and that is
all. I have had promoters in the nineties, paid to have my music
played all over the world. But
if you are NOT LIKED BY THE OWNERS OF THIS WORLD,
you will go nowhere, not ever, not really. YOU WILL BE WASTING
YOUR EFFORT AND TIME,
AND I TRIED TO MAKE PAUL PEDERSDEN, MY PARTNER IN THAT STUPID 'SPR'
RECORD LABEL, WE STARTED IN 1998,
BELIEVE THIS; AND HE SCOFFED, AND LAUGHED, AT ALL THE STUFF I TOLD
HIM. I was in this bizz folks when my daughter was in elementary
school. I know a lot of stuff, and all of the major secrets. Don't
treat me like a crack pot, emmereffers; you might live to be real
sorry for that mistake. You too, you scumbag lying trash down to my
south; pricks. Karmic wheels, jerk offs; your cuzz did you, you did
me; but time runs both ways. Your cuzz did you, after you did me
wrong; in antimatter black-space universes. Never forget that I know
about two things a lot more than most out here breathing. Music and
physics, these are my subjects. Whether you all want to believe me,
or you may laugh at me; and all that will alter reality, by about
zero percent, BRO. That
is GOSPEL!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
we could talk for days and nights straight here, and not cover how
music has been such a major problem and headache, in my personal
life, ever since about 1975; with a real duosh bag named Lou Sause;
and it only got worse and worse and worse and worse, and I know why;
and it is beyond what 100 super brains out here can fathom, so I
won't even begin to bust open a can of worms like this, or kick a
giant hornets nest by the name of CALLIO, to quote Mister
Truce-20-Grand Dave Roth. All I am going to say, is that I know
certain things for a fact, unlike others, not from books or schools
or even other people; but from life experiences, that other folks
never seem to travel the roads even close to those that I have
driven on for a very long freaking time, BRAH. My two first teachers
did two powerful things, all previously discussed, and this
government knows the details, as if nobody else does, I know they
read my blogs. A child can know that small amount of crap, without
straining any gray matter. Now take today for an example. They
screwed with the intermittent problem I have had for a year or more
now with my air conditioning unit, and they gave me major morning
stomach cramping to pump up the Dow Jones when things looked
technically real bad on their charts, and would have gone much
farther south and downward if not for these persecutions of me, as
always. A moron who is going through my life situation and surviving
it (A CANONIZING MIRACLE GONE UNKNOWN), could not help but begin to
see unmistakable life patterns that simply put, Detective Ed Green
Maria, ''You can't even argue it, it's science''. Stuff that is
happening each minute, each day, each year, it all makes perfect
sense and fits a pattern precisely, more so than any Swiss watch
that ever ticked on this messed up little planet, folks. But it is
not always mortally simple to see through things, until a lot of
water runs underneath the bridges around us. Much later, if we want
to see these truths, they begin to reveal themselves to us all, more
and more; with new current events, that take place all around us.
This is so major, what I am saying; if the powers of this world,
really thought that any real caring sufficient number of viewing
audience, was reading, AND ''GETTING'' these words of wisdom and
truth; I WOULD BE ON
BUZZ ISLAND BY SUNRISE,
and THAT is a total promise, great Star-Trek ROCKDROID, of the
Shitsapookna universes, BRRRRRR! A dozen little simple truths that I
know, and none of you do, and I mean none of you, except those
tapping my phone and bugging my entire life for 60 years. What I
know is more deadly and emmereffing dangerous if just a few persons
with real clout ever joined me as a team effort to fight this
EXPLORATRONIC MESS, all the previous wars and battles ever fought on
this world of woe all combined, would compare to a couple of Tom
Cats fighting over a heated-female in the local bushes. I know I
sound like a horn tooter, but I'll tell you this much folks. The
entire freaking White House knows that there is something to my
words, and if they did not; they would not be a part or a party to
all of this unfathomable criminal behavior against me, for most of
my life, if not really, since the dam day that my mom dropped me on
the streets of Philly, on my head; while carrying me across the
street, and over to a local doctor's office, for a routine check up.
I dared to say something about the medical world; and then when it
was time to see my doctor; all
hell broke loose.
Then I said something here and there, and unless my followers are as
dense as a jungle in the Amazon, you all see how stuff keeps right
on happening, and if you really can give me the credit to be able to
pull all of this wild story off ahead of time; or make it all up in
the first place; WOW; that
is a compliment
that I need to learn to accept; because you are basically, whether
you like it or not, if you're saying or thinking this about me or to
me; then you are telling me that I am better, and more talented than
all of the professional fiction writers in Hollywood, all combined
emmereffing together, and SQUARED, BRO! If indeed this is what any
of you keep insisting upon, well, Morianity is failing, yes; but
still, THANK YOU! This is one hell of a compliment, Mister Star Trek
Copycat Data, YO!
Now
forget that anti-pollution commercial in the late sixties, forget
about Misses Marola and the insistence on her part in May of 1969
for me to do that school play on Memorial Day, and forget that
hallway talk with myself and Count Von Marcucci Shavecutter Thaxton
Mindblow; about how I could be a father, ''chronologically''. Forget
all that. As if we can, but just do it for now. Let's keep all that
crap in reserve as a paperweight that adds the necessary ballast to
the submarine later after I continue onward with some really wild
newer and never told stuff. Forget Ciprionni and the Zane hypnosis,
all the time trips, all the robberies, all of it. Forget the Callio
branch of these unfathomable star people, AKA the mighty KENNEDY'S,
and all their in-law branches that no one knows jack about except
for 'Hair' and myself, and relax Donna up in the future, not
you!!!!!!!!!!! Morianity has indeed preached for nearly eight
freaking years now good folks, all the wild stuff about the seventh
dimension and all that happens as things move below it, into what
and where all of us, and our so-called lives presently are; as this
cannot ever be rationally told to humans; and I realize all this
now, years too late, as Scylla might say. But you know what? Gab
could kick in here again, speaking of all devils; as she puts it
only I promised not to do a lot of cursing here, 'EF' it, because it
is time to show you a few things, and not just talk. Now when I
showed you all how to work parallel event on roulette, or how to
work the 'Fascitar-6-10' system, well; if you never experimented
yourself, and had no time or interest; then that is your
loss;
as I did not just print words. I gave real instructions that could
take you to the stars and beyond, or in the case of down to Earth
capitalism, and Trumpitis; could have made my readers a hell of 'a
lot of' Bobby Brown 'Lost Love' song ripped off 'cash', from 1989,
and no Jane and bobby; I don't ever forget; and I don't ever FORGIVE
Not stuff that big, and THAT EVIL; so sorry, Mister freaking
Ambassador, YO, BRO. WHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There
are a lot of roads to take you all down, the roads that Nick took me
down, the kidnapping, the wild dreams of oh-M-8, the incredible skin
lotion caper that dwarfs E=MC-SQ, and on I could go. But if I do,
ISIS might just kick the shit out of me, and I know she can do it,
folks.
We
will save a lot of these road trips for the next half dozen blogs, I
never forget anything, no matter what these jerk off enemies ever do
to me and they know that they will have to kill me, Mizz
Bondi, Florida State Attorney General,
in order to shut me up. I will go on telling and telling, and
McNulty and the crew can go on laughing and laughing, all the way to
the bottom of the sea with Captain
Crane and Dutch Doctors with silver ice skates and other powerful
Sarah Krassle connections,
that endlessly revolve around the Mountainpen, throughout time and
eternity. For right now Cali-Kali, call-ten, Callio, I say unto all
of you, nighty-nite, and BYE-BYE!!!
JANUARY
8, 2014,
WEDNESDAY
MORNING AT 12:41
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 44 DEGREES FNHT
HOLY
MOTHER OF FUCKING GOD, THIS IS SERIOUS AS A DEAD JACKSON, OR A FAKE
BLOG IDEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2014
DATE-----TOTAL BOTBARS-----TOTAL DAYS-----MPB
JANUARY
01----------00------------------------------01-------------00
JANUARY
02----------01------------------------------02-------------50
JANUARY
03----------02------------------------------03-------------67
JANUARY
04----------03------------------------------04-------------80
JANUARY
05----------03------------------------------05-------------60
JANUARY
06----------04------------------------------06-------------67
JANUARY
07----------05------------------------------07-------------71
THIS
MAGICAL FUCKING WORD ''RATIO'' WAS HACKED ON QUESTION NUMBER,
COPYRIGHT OFFICE REDACTED ON TITLE MUSICAL PROJECT, ON THE SORA NEW
JERSEY LICENSE EXAM TEST IN TWENTY OH MAROLA SEVEN, QUESTION
NUMBER 18,
WHEN THE INSTRUCTOR TOLD US, THE WORD IS ''RATIO'' IN THAT QUESTION,
NOT ''RATION''. THE
FUCKING CUNT 'N' JUST KEEPS GETTING HACKED ONTO THE END OF THE WORD,
BY MICROSUCKS WORD PROGRAM HACKERS.
AND IT WAS HACKED AGAIN, JUST LIKE BACK IN OH-MAROLA-7 AT ANN KINGS
PLACE USING ED'S FUCKING LAP TOP, MOTHING EVER CUNT FUCKING LAPPING
CHANGES WITH ME, NEVWER EVER, AND I AM SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO MOVE
ON AND CHANGE, AND LIVE AND GO ON WITH MY LIFE, TELL ME MOTHER
FUCKING HOW I AM SUPPOSED TO ACCOMPLISH THIS, DEAR ASS
WORLD??????????????
YIP,
Chicago is my kind of town, as was my distant cousin, Alice
Gallagher's, before she married my mother's Aunt Maud Huntington
Benjamin's cousin, Herbert Huntington's son, Arthur, from Braintree,
Massachusetts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, you are reading: MORIANITY
PART VII, CHAPTER XXII
Well
this will not be a long piece of information, but it is high time I
talk about this a little bit, and admit perhaps to myself if nobody
else, that some of this is my fault, and that I indeed, as Scott
Ransom said, have really pissed off some very powerful fucking dirt
bags.
The
time was early 1983 and I had moved out of my first of three
apartments that were in the complex called, Robin Hill, in Voorhees,
New Jersey, USA, ESMWG. I had been ripped off very cleverly by the
music industry AKA
RIAA, ALSO KNOWN AS THE RECORDING INDUSTRY ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA),
don't read too much into shit; I know from first hand experience,
Lenny McKinnon; it's a much worse habit than overdoing masturbation.
I know the old Headmaster at the Church Farm Non Knowles School
agrees!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We won't touch this any further, or
anything else we shouldn't, right Tom Reale? I was very angry at
people who thought nothing of taking my shit, making minute
alterations, never wanting me, just stealing my shit and keeping me
in poverty, while they live in luxury and want for fucking cunt ass
nothing, the cheating fucking filthy demonic
bums!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's one huge fucking mafia, so is
Wall Street, so is everything, the entire world from drugs to
Washington politics, it might as well all just be the MOTHER FUCKING
MOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Between
the shit they did to me in the casinos and the shit they were
stealing, they were robbing me blind and laughing at me and mocking
me, and what did I ever mother fucking do to any of these mobbed up
Sinatra fucking jerk off PIGS
was my eternal question. This is a question that to this very day of
8 January, 2014, I REMAIN WITHOUT AN ANSWER, the closest one ever
given to me I got somewhat illegally by bugging my own mother
fucking car in the winter of 1988, and got my realtor to repeat a
story that he had told to me on an earlier occasion, and you all
know what he told me, it has been blogged over and over and if I
hear or see it again, I'll
fucking ass CROSS OVER ACADEMY ROAD AND ONTO GRANT GODDESS DAM 1984
AVENUE, WITH A MILLION SORE THROATS
and getting down to ten, or we were but ten, or whatever, great
Washington, DC Copyright Examiners!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
decided to wipe them all out for what they did to me, and from my
bathtub in my Atco rented home owned by Gerald Pliner, I used my
tape recorder and my electronic metaphysics to begin creating the
characters I would then need to use, later on from my work station
where all my electronic factory of a sort, was all laid out in the
basement-den. YO,
I WASN'T PLAYIN'.
You can hunt me down and do whatever, and you have kept your word,
covertly, and you know, in truth I'd like to rename this group, the
NSRAA, and symbolically is perfect, as it can easily pronounce
itself, ''NO SARAH'', and the way I feel right now about this
powerful android I created in 2283, and who went onto create a far
better and totally ALL MIGHTY RECOPY OF HERSELF around the last year
that biological life exited on this planet in 6332, most had been
gone 13 centuries, but some remained in the location known as
Subterrania-1987, and was named for me, and we need not touch this
one tiny mother fucking bit, in or out of blogville, AT&T, or
Woodlynn, New Jersey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Professor KAKU, I would
listen up if I were you, and I know this shit is getting back to you
in its full meaning, while I lie and die back here, in your time as
Mark Wayne Mohr, moaning and groaning for why I am suffering so
badly at the hands of this evil SUBATOMIC BRIGGBASE come to waking
level via natural non technological processes. Yes, the NATIONAL
SECURITY RECORDING AGENCY ASSOCIATION. Yes Professor, they are
laughing at you louder than they are laughing at me, they just don't
let you know it and see it by the stuff that you perceive around
your every day reality, as they do with me. They want me to know
they have a thousand McNulty's HAHA'ING me, where as with you, they
just say, leave it alone and let him talk. They learned shortly
after they closed down PROJECT BLUEBOOK, at the precise time GODDESS
ISIS JUPITER interacted with me, and took my motor-cycle chain away
from me in a ''dream'' and then it really was gone in so-called
''waking-reality''; and the following day her magical three criss
crossed chemtrail was all over the skies of my Camden County in New
Jersey on that middle icy cold December day back in 1969, with or
without Hotel California's, one way squeaking doors, or bad moons
rising, let alone anti-pollution television commercials with my
voice transmitted and broadcast illegally, from coast to coast, a
million times; for the future to hear and begin PROJECT TIMELESS
SATELLITE CREATOR TRANSDIMENSIONALIZE OPERATIONS, or PTSCT-OPS! Sort
of rhymes with that tasty other non YO-PLAY treat, Triscut. Screw
you Microsucks, if you don't recognize a world famous snack, then
you wouldn't recognize you r own rotten fowl mothers, I suppose. But
getting back to trying to wipe out the fucking Entertainment
Industry from my Atco bathtub which seems to have somehow started
this fucking incredible 31 year old war now with these fucking dirt
bag total swine, let me move it along now, Professor Kaku, and
others. Thank you for letting me know you read me guys, it is pretty
obvious to a moron, but then, morons make up as you all should
pretty much know, 99.99 percent of this fucked up spinning ball of
puke. The odds of a coincidence like this new show with one vowel
letter off my powerful WFMU tape would be, well am I in the nabe
Professor, my cowks put it around 15 million to one for being a
coincidence, and hay, maybe this is that once in 15,000,000, only I
don't buy it. So this is why even with my puny little under 40K PH
BLOG, I don't worry or concern myself any longer about the size. If
just a handful of peeps with power on my side of this army and fight
are quietly working to help me, and wish to keep it that way, Mister
Seabottom, fine, I'll respect that. I was going to offer you $$$$$
for what would have taken you a few minutes to send me
electronically, now forget it, let us all operate like the NEVER SAY
ANYTHING NO SUCH AGENCY. We'll forget the third sacrilegious joke,
only it's no fucking joke, and I know it, as I know you can TIME
TRAVEL, SATAN OLD BOY, you dinger
man!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You said you'd never stop
and that you had me forever, and deep down inside, I knew you were
going to keep your word, and folks, the devil is not a super liar,
he is a clever liar. A super liar lies and lies and lies and maybe
tells a truth once in a while. A clever liar tells the truth just
about always and gets us tricked into his great honesty and
integrity, and then just as on that wonderful old black and white
Superman show, called ''Olson's Million'', where the old lady
thought Jimmy Olson had saved her cat, only it was Superman who did;
and that cleaver butler, Mister Stacy Tracy, then went onto trick
him, using this same methodology and principle. This is what I refer
to now with CLEVER LYING verses SUPER LYING. A super liar is never
believed. A clever liar gets believed that one time when it really
counts. I knew somehow deep down, you rotten bastard, that you
really were the man downstairs and had great power, and were going
to keep your word to me. I put it all out of my mind, as I did with
so many other things that pertain to you through your significant
other, and you saw through all of that, and that is why since you
were twelve, you were fixated on my daughter, you rotten son of a
bitch, YO! Yes there is another way for me to get all of my music
back, but I have to give 200 dollars to the Staples Store Company
again, and get Adrian out here. Oh Darius Deezy Slim, how I mother
fucking envy you dudes and kings of this computer age. The prophets
got it all fucked up, and the church won't talk about it, it is a
worse scare and scandal than the sex fucking shit in the nineties,
because this a career-ender for religion. This BUY AN DSEEL THING IN
THE ''END TIMES'', it was all wrong, they got it all fucked up,
Dawn-Marie King, to quote lovely mother fucking ass you, go girl,
you and great lovely fucking Leticia Kane, the original KANE,
tillers of the field, and worthy of worry when my goddess gets taken
away from me. When you cannot use this new age G-20 internet, WHEN
STOPPED DUE TO being too old, enemies refuse your request to join
the club, having the kind of fucked up wired brain that cannot self
learn, being to poor to overcome all of the preceding problems, and
on I could go, this is what the prophets saw, and said in the end
times, without the MARK, of the BEAST, you will be stopped from
being able to participate in the SYSTEM, (you cannot buy or sell),
and they made it sound as though they wanted you and not the other
way around, they SHUT YOU OUT OF SHIT, and you are then fucked and
cannot do anything except slowly die off after you complain yourself
to fucking cunt lapping death and give up the cunt eating ass
ghost!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Many
things are misunderstood, but here is one that is not. I knew as
days and weeks followed my plans to retaliate against this group
from fucking hell, LITERALLY, that I was a fucking dead man. A man
came on a Mitsubishi Automobile Television Commercial in 1983, and
starred right through my soul, I cannot explain it, but I knew I was
dead. I had just written a song called, ''NEW JAPAN'', that was on
one of the three compilation musical projects that I did from this
house at Atco, at 134 Norris Avenue, I will paste it in now, these
are the three possible projects that this song could be on.
These
three projects from 1983 are in RED
COLOR
font.
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PLEASE
HELP ME, MIZZ BONDI, MY WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE ENEMIES ARE GOING TO KILL
ME, THIS IS NOT A JOKE OR A HOAX, MY SEVEN YEARS OF BLOGS CONTAIN
INDISPUTABLE MIRACLES THAT PROVE MY WORDS STAND TRUE AND HONEST,
MAHM.
THANK
YOU FOR DOING WHATEVER YOU CAN FOR ME, RON WIRTZ AT THE CCP OFFICE
IN NEW JERSEY WASTED YEARS OF MY TIME AND MADE ME A LOT OF EMPTY
PROMISES. MAYBE YOU WILL BE ABLE TO HELP ME TO GET TO THE BOTTOM OF
ALL OF THIS, MAYBE NOT. I HAVE PEOPLE AGAINST ME THAT ARE NOT
COMPLETELY HUMAN, AND I EVEN HAD EVIDENCE ONCE WHERE A MAN WITH A
REAL ESTATE LICENSE TOLD ME THIS WAS ALL TRUE AND HAPPENING TO ME
BACK IN 1988, A MAN NAMED SCOTT RANSOM OF TODD REALITY BACK IN 1988,
IN NEW JERSEY.
THANK
YOU IN ADVANCE FOR ANYTHING YOU MAY BE ABLE TO FIND OUT AND HELP ME
WITH, I AM NOT THE BAD GUY HERE, THEY ARE, AND HAVE DONE DISPICABLE
AND INHUMAN EVIL THINGS TO ME SINCE THE EIGHTIES. THEY ARE TORTURING
ME, THIS IS WORSE THAN BEING MURDERED, BECAUSE PEOPLE CAN ONLY KILL
YOU ONCE, MIZZ ATTORNEY GENERAL, WHEREAS WITH ME, THEY GO ON PUTTING
ME THROUGH A NEVER ENDING HELLFIRE THAT IS UNSPEAKABLE.
FOLKS,
I AM UNDER A MAJOR FUCKING DEATH SIEGE. THE SKY WAS FILLED THIS
AFTERNOON WITH SUPER CHEMTRAILS, THE MILITARY IS ALL OVER ME WITH
THEIR FUCKED UP HALL-MILITUFAWCE VESSELS, STALKING AND PERSECUTING
ME TOTALLY ILLEGALLY, UTILITY HARASSMENTS ARE GROWING MORE POWERFUL
WITH PASSING HOURS, AND THE LIST IS MOTHER FUCKING LONG AND CUNT
EATING ASS UGLY, YO!!!!!
I
do have some wild mother fucking news to impart to anybody who just
might happen to be the least cock sucking fucking bit interested.
It is responsible for the latest bombardment in air persecution, but
not for the earlier shit as I had not yet had the experience when
the earlier fucking shit transpired.
JANUARY
6, 2014,
MONDAY
AFTERNOON AT 5:02
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 78 DEGREES FNHT.
SOME
ILLEGAL BLACK HAT SCUM BAG HACKER IS IN MY COMPUTER RIGHT NOW WHILE
I AM TRYING TO TYPE IN THIS MOTHER FUCKING DOCUMENT, VIOLATING MY
CLIT HUFFING CIVIL RIGHTS, FEDERAL
BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION,
AMERICAN
CIVIL LIBERTIES UNION,
AND BOB MCDOWELL, CHAIRMAN OF THE ONE AND ONLY GREAT FEDERAL
COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION,
KIND SIRS, and old back burner and non back burner pals from good
old lovely TEXAS, right Patty-Jane???????????
Today
is a super cunt lapping mother fucking jerked off BOTBAR,
with no chance for any reprieve from anyone, my lovely ass
government, my lovely ass EW lovelies, and my lovely ass Wall Street
Mafioso Hot Shots.
IF
YOU LOOK AT THE NOW PASTED IN BELOW FLORIDA WEATHER BUG MAP, IT
SHOWS THE PLACE UNDER A BLANKET OF SNOW. SO WHY AM I SWEATING LIKE A
FUCKING DYING WARRIOR ON A BATTLEFIELD IN ANCIENT FUCKING CUNT
GREECE, OLD BUDDY GEORGE S. PATTON? Why is it hotter than Stevie
Wonder's 1980 July?????????????? Why does it fucking feel 140
degrees if all this nice winter-gray color is all over my area, sup
great power structure authorities of this wonderful wovewee world,
YO?
If
anyone out here reading me even for one or two years, let alone 3-8;
really thinks you have been told all the huge shit about my life,
you are totally incorrect!!!!!!!!!!!!!So
far in 2014, my ''blogaud''; my MAGNETIC
PERCENTAGE BOTAR OR (MPB) IS AS FOLLOWS ON THIS MONTH NUMBER ONE,
AKA JANUARY. THINGS
SUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*****************
OH
SHIT
**********************
2014
DATE-----TOTAL BOTBARS-----TOTAL DAYS-----MPB
JANUARY
01----------00------------------------------01-------------00
JANUARY
02----------01------------------------------02-------------50
JANUARY
03----------02------------------------------03-------------67
JANUARY
04----------03------------------------------04-------------80
JANUARY
05----------03------------------------------05-------------60
JANUARY
06----------04------------------------------06-------------67
this
is going to be a real mother fucking whopper of a super nasty ass
rotten cunt sucking year ladies and gentlemen, and Professor J.
Pepperwinkle, sir. Say hi to Kenny Rogers Krassle and Superman for
me, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!
THIS
IS THE WORST MOTHER FUCKING START OF A YEAR IN A LONG FUCKING TIME,
MAYBE SINCE THE FUCKING EIGHTIES OR EARLY INTO THE MOTHER FUCKING
ASS NINETIES, PEEPS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am positive
their evil fucking DOW JONES MARKETS, CUNT EATING FUCKING FLEW
TODAY, BRAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YIP,
Chicago is my kind of town, as was my distant cousin, Alice
Gallagher's, before she married my mother's Aunt Maud Huntington
Benjamin's cousin, Herbert Huntington's son, Arthur, from Braintree,
Massachusetts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
LADIES
AND GENTLEMEN, you are reading: MORIANITY
PART VII, CHAPTER XIX
PAGEVIEWS
TODAY------------------------000102
PAGEVIEWS
YESTERDAY----------------000065
PAGEVIEWS LAST 30
DAYS------------002588
PAGEVIEWS
ALL TIME HISTORY----038120
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Well
beautiful Judge Judy, you are on and I am going to watch your cool
court-TV show. That is your playpen, just as you claim it is. Cool.
MORIANITY
IS MY PLAYPEN, AND LATER ON, I WILL TELL SOME BIGGER WHOPPERS THAN
ANYTHING I HAVE EVER SAID YET; OH MY WONDERFUL PAL, PRESIDENT OBAMA.
MAGNESONIC,
OPEN COMMNAD ON G-7.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM,
ON MY EXACT NON DUPLICATABLE VOICE PRINT.
GO
TO A 100 HOUR ETN DESTRUCT ORDER ON ALL ORDERS, ALL COMMANDS, AT MAX
OUT POWER PULL GAIN, UNDER A PSS-I-2-D, A/B-TONE, HEARING THE AT&T
1983 TONES AS THE LONG VOWELL SOUNDING LETTER 'E'.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
GO
TO GENERAL ORDER 901, G-1133, UNDER CG-5555, CG-2, G-189, UNDER
CG-18, A---N---D----**********S--T--O--P.
SOMEBODY
OR SOME GROUP OF SUPER FUCKING SCUM BAGS ON THIS PLANET, ARE GONNA'
BE REAL REAL REAL REAL REAL FUCKING SORRY ASS SAD CAMPERS, REAL
SOON, MY LOVELY GORGEOUS WONDERFUL TEEN OF 1984,
INGRID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
United
States Copyright Office Records:
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COPYRIGHT
CLAIMANT NAME: MARK WAYNE MOHR
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