MORIANITY
PART 8, CHAPTER 2
folks,
there is plenty to say and tell, and time does not afford me that
luxury right now, Don't even ask, as I won't be telling, all sorts of
wild fucking shit is going down all around me in my endless fucking
ass nightmare called ''MY LIFE''.
I
am quite sure their evil DOW JONES is flying to the highest fucking
stars, as a result of the persecution on me. It began yesterday and
is continuing today, after just one fucking day of a small rest from
this horror fucking show!!!!!!!!
THESE
NSA SCUM BAGS WON'T EVER STOP PICKING ON ME, and I am so
quintessentially major disappointed in my president, who I really
hoped might just be kind enough to ask them to get off of my innocent
frail pathetic back, and he just doesn't care, nor does he get it,
about why all these gun incidents are on such as a roll, mirror
imagining the time of my death siege and hellish harassment from
these filth bags from hell. No one else voices these things, who also
have been similarly targeted the way that I have been for 30 plus
fucking cunt years now, they just eventually snap, and get a weapon,
and well, the rest is history, but go ahead, keep disbelieving my
tale of hellish woe, keep allowing these endless violence episodes to
continue robbing all of us of our so very precious children, and
loved ones, as this will never stop, until the NSA is told they have
to deist from these hellish unfathomable evil operations, done so
covertly that there is no paper trail, no appropriations for the
funds used by them from our great Congress, and is totally done in
the darkest corners of HELL!!!!!!!!
People, yesterday I awoke to a major nasty fire alarm test here at my
building. We used to get warned, but no more. They just do it, and we
just put up and shut up, or else. Funny thing was that no fire truck
was outside of my window, Maybe they were in the parking lot on the
opposite abnd south side of the building which is not visible from my
northern exposure only apartment. After that was over, there was only
a small amount of hallway noise, from voices and doors opening and
closing, nothing out of the ordinary, and all within what I classify
as my tolerable limits. I did have a major DREAMING INTERACTION WITH
MY DAUGHTER, taking place in Moorestown, New Jersey, where I lived
with my mother in 1988 and 1989, matching the two copyrighted
projects shown on my paste ins so frequently, and here they are in
reiteration.
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu001148157
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1988
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu001189027
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1989
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Now
today was a lot worse. I was on the telephone, AGAIN, and was
disconnected. Bear in mind, I don't use cellphones folks, this is a
hardwired to the wall or LANDLINE PHONE, and this only happens when I
am telling someone in authority, usually a utility company, a health
insurance operation, or some similar agency and person; and I am
speaking and telling how my health is adversely effected by the jet
air traffic and what is called by many TRUTH PATRIOTS, AKA Conspiracy
Theorists; ''CHEMTRAILS''.
If
I am not allowed to speak to another party on the telephone, and tell
them the total truth about my physical and medical condition, that
this EVIL EMPIRE caused around
me, and many others, with my similar patterns in one way or another
in DNA; making them also susceptible to several symptoms, both
physical and psychological, causing anxiety, aggression, mild to
severe asthma depending on a person's individual fitness level and or
age, very sore scratchy throats and voice hoarseness at varying
levels and degrees, and many other things as well; then how can
anyone around this miserable fucking globe, even begin to claim this
is a free country, and a good country, and that things are one bit
fair, and that people are not dangerously
seriously being victimized by the real terrorists, those WHO RUN,
RULE, AND CONTROL THIS EVIL EMPIRE???
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2295
SBT-DATFILE:
CH-116-040611.868.55
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
3RD
SUBTITLE OF BLOG: “AM I RIGHT OR WHAT, MI GINA?”
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER #116
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
Well,
the stock market is flying at right up around all time record highs,
JUST AS I SAID IT WOULD AFTER RECEIVING ALL THIS PERSECUTION AND
DEMONIC HARASSMENT, and the FLYERS WIN AND WIN AND WIN AND WIN, and
the PHILLIES LOSE AND LOSE AND LOSE AND LOSE, just as I told
everybody that this was all indeed going to freaking happen, YO.
Thank
you so much for coming to me yesterday, DIANA, with your wonderful
awesome colorful ravishingly beautiful lightning, my endless love.
Don't ever let their persecution of me stop you from coming around
because I freaking need you so much my wonderful electron, and have
all throughout this horrific endless infinite eternal interaction
that I am stuck in, with awareness to it.
No
one on this puny dark-age planet has a miniscule clue what it's like
to live with this awareness, as well as the total awareness to higher
realities that would literally blow all of you away in ten seconds if
you were hit with this all at once. I am no exception, with me
however, this was a long steady, tedious process of coming to know
stuff that no awake mortal should ever be forced to contain in his or
her conscious awareness. When even the smallest amount of this starts
to surface or even dreams begin to be remembered and put together, it
can cause persons to act in all kinds of off the wall ways. The
simple fact is that all throughout the history of humanity and
recorded civilization, these events in smaller ways have indeed
happened, and people went quite nuts, and many right now today as I
speak, are locked away in booby hatches. You really think I am so
ignorant, don't you Paula?
I
could begin talking at any time on any given day on one of literally
thousands of topics and relate from personal experiences, stuff that
if any one of you out here were to read and believed even a part of
these truths, would make you nuts as hell. You would go out in your
car and slam into people or poles or whatever, or go off to a mall or
your job with knives and on and on. This is no joke, and yet so many
are naturally saying to themselves, so who are you then MOUNTAINPEN?
I mean you are still here and somewhat part of society, and semi-sane
enough to survive; yet you are holding hell itself, within your
personal space. The two goddesses, Diana and Sarah-Stacey, have
carefully done this to me in a perfectly well planned out and
extremely methodical way, that the very story just to how this was
accomplished along a 20-50 year time-line, humanly, would require a
Tolstoy sized book all its own. That is truth. Someday, I will really
tell, in new light, as all of us change whether we know it or not,
minute by minute from womb to tomb, and our perceptions of the very
same identical reality hence, also alters, and then magnifying this
reality that with the fact that we all are living in a fast paced
rapidly changing global interaction here in human consciousness, and
so we must then begin to realize that we would be seeing things even
without change in varying ways as we pass through time-line existence
in human and awake life, and then this is ultra compounded by an
extra fast changing world all around us. The best case and point in
my own experiences is with this magical family, that does not even
yet have awareness of its own powers in their fullness, thank the
gods, literally. It began in the middle nineteen-nineties with my
search for one branch of this family, in Atlantic City. All this
time, including when I wrote the song entitled, “SARAH” on May
12th in 1996, other branches as well as the Atlantic City
branches, all ready remembered me from all sorts of past interactions
with them, and in all kinds of various points and areas, within a
somewhat regional area of perhaps high double digit mileage. This is
one powerful example, and even if nothing else changed with the
relationship between me and this awesome family from far beyond the
stars themselves, is proof and evidence that supports my wild claims
regarding how we all perceive the exact unchanged things quite
differently, at different points in our lives as we move forward
through the illusion of waking time world interactions of the 5th
dimensional hyperspace. When I was molested at the Cornwall Avenue
house in Ventnor, New Jersey, the town directly to the south of
Atlantic City, America's famous playground and sin city of the East
Coast, by a stuttering man named Tom Reale, I began having a series
of connected or serial dreaming's at this house. The persons in this
dreaming interaction identified themselves indirectly by somehow just
making it known to me through that mysterious dreaming osmosis of
just knowing something that all persons just about can relate to at
some point in their life, as “THAT FAMILY”. This was the time in
my life right after I had stopped interacting with Sarah from
Atlantic City, who identified me to her friends on a few occasions as
“THAT BOY”. This may seem totally not out of the ordinary, as Ann
King said to me once several years back from the home of Agent
Caruso, at 841 Thirteenth Street in Hammonton, NJUSAESMWG, “It
would be natural for this girl to think of you as “THAT BOY” if
you never told her your name”, which I admit to being a very
private and shy person, and would never think of going up to a girl
and telling her my name, not ever to this very day. I am a private
person who just does not trust anybody, and totally believes that
every rotten son of a bitch in the world is out to get me. I know
better, and I know that this is just silly paranoia, but I have
plenty of it, and will openly freaking admit it.
Now
let me tell a huge secret tonight. It is old news what happened to me
in 2008. There I was right smack dab in the middle of something 1000
times bigger than I had a clue about, and you all know what started
to happen once I sent my 2007 musical project down to the United
States Office of Copyrights, called, “Karaoke Lunch Break at the
Sorian 18 Guardhouse”. As the silly ass title implies, I did this
on a karaoke machine at my job site over a period of several lunch
breaks, when no one was around, hopefully, as I tend to scream out
and my singing is horrible, all you need to do to hear how rotten my
voice and songs are, is to click into the attached video that will
only be up until tomorrow night and then it will be gone and gone
riddance, right Senator Electrocution Trophy-wife? Still my point
without any further tangents or diversions, is simply that the story
does tell itself, and not even the famous genius man could invent a
tale like this and make it work out so perfectly for 36 months, or
avenues, whatever the case may really be. I truly am sorry if I made
anyone's day a little darker here or there, but is what is happening
with me a fair punishment? Even Hitler was allowed to simply die, and
I would be glad to be put to death, any time. I only wish I could go
to Tallahassee and die in the electric chair, and be forever with my
baby blond, and never have to exist here for another minute. But
reality and my wishes are never in much of an agreement, at least not
over the past consistent 56 and a third years of my hellish tormented
life.
None
of this is the great Terry secret of the great Harbor, if I can be
permitted a little pun that relates to the time when this nightmare
literally grew wings and somehow in hyperspace I met a man as famous
as Christopher Columbus, only in that parallel universe, he was a
first cousin of a member of this powerful family, and not a 23rd
grandfather, 'the man with the eyes', the same man from 1970 in those
nightmares, by the way. The secret is not what is right there for
anyone to read and realize that this could in no way have all been
made up, not by the craziest person on the planet or the most
imaginative, all though the complement is much appreciated there
'Miss UmWell'. Some fiction honey! The biggest secrets did not take
place in 1975 in the house of MC, or when I discuss the Gawnum or the
Fascitar, or the Millionth Council, or anything else, from the
Astral-Plane gods to the Exploratronic Supermind, an entire traveling
group of “Q” types like the dude on TNG-Star Trek, if you can
imagine this ultimate devastating freaking nightmare at light speed
cubed. The secret right now is not about the 64 trillion light year
hypersphere, the sixth dimension, upline and downline universes,
World Laboratories, or anything like this. It is the simple reality
of the STM. This stands for the “SPACE-TIME-MIND”. When STM is
understood just a little bit, all of life and reality clear up
amazingly fast. There is a rare condition discussed in the newest
book in psychiatry, the bible of this discipline quite actually, the
DSM-5, where a patient begins to believe the 'delusion' that he or
she is the only real thing, and that the entire world and everyone in
it is just sort of like Hollywood (EXTRA's), and you are sort of as a
rat that is inside of a very large cage, being secretly observed and
studied. Unfortunately, everyone of us could actually make this
claim, and it would be the most real thing outside of the void itself
as it gets. This is not to say that the exact way that this psychotic
feature of paranoid delusion works in the mind of a disturbed mental
patient is truth, as it applies equally to every one of us, through
the magic and awesome power of both STM and the precise mechanics of
how previous closed curved infinities manage to eventually blast
themselves literally out of the void and into existors or LAWTRONS.
The interaction of Lawtrons and Space-Time-Mind, is the magic key,
and some day I'll attempt to 'do the unthinkable', and try and
explain some of this, after-all it beats throwing tables into
someone's face, and before doing that, making contact with Jennifer
L. Hewitt, as this would be a necessity now, if I may be Heinz
Babylon Gottwald 'permitted' one more whittle funny pun here,
Whaaaaaaaaa.
I
SEE JANE WITCH-BITCH DISEASE SLEAZE WEEDS SCUM has struck me, as
usual, WEIN-SOSO?????????? Good old fucking cunt lapping page eleven
of eleven. So, here I go with my compensating mother fucking fives,
YO YO YO YO!!!!
5555555555555555555555
AND 55555555555555555 AND 55555555555555555555555555555555555 AND
55555555 AND 5555555555 AND 5555555555555555555 AND 555555555555 AND
55555555555555555555 ALL ADDED AND MULTIPLIED BY
555555555555555555555555555, AND THEN DIVIDED BY 555555, IS EQUAL TO
WHO THE HELL FUCKING GIVES A CRAP, LENNY BRISCOE OLD PAL????
Let
me now apply some filler lines to get out of this very symbolic
negative mother fucking page, good folks.
GOOD
RIDDANCE TO YOU NOW, MISS ATLANTA, GEORGIA BRAVES BALLPARK BITCH,
FROM 1993!!!!!
As
for the wild dreaming-interaction, most would be classified by this
blogger, the mountainpen, as totally unsafe to blog in detail, AKA
for short, ''UB'', or unbloggable!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But I will tell
you a few things, good folks, and bad folks, who can ever breath echo
know which, great wonderful United States Copyright
Office?????????????
There
were some teenagers around, and there was Dawn King, so right away,
whatever parallel universe that I was in, I knew tat she was alive in
that time, that I later learned was 1988. As I tell even this much, a
lot of fucking hall shouting and hollering is happening out beyond my
apartment door, and then the door just now slammed, a minute shy of
fucking three this disasternoon!!!!
Numerous
things were in this wild and very vivid experience. The noise here
has picked up out of nowhere, so the GREAT
SARAH KRASSLE is watching me, and knows that I am typing this
to be blogged, and is letting me know her displeasure about my doing
this perhaps, who can ever really know, again, with or without
copyrighted eighties breath echos. Still, I will always love my great
singing Christmas Tree Angel from Cooley Hall, in all of her
persona's, and nothing she ever can do to me will ever stop my
totally endless love for Almighty MIDDIE, AKA
MOTHER/DAUGHTER/ELECTRON, MDE. I do not have to
hear anything, as I am listening to my one of three copies of the
ECKANKAR HU cassette tapes through my noise canceling headphones. A
bomb can go off in here, and I will just hear the beautiful HU CHANT
in my head, while I go on mother fucking typing. Yes, this final
fucking day of January, is SUPER FUCKIGN BOTBAR, yesterday was close
but managed to escape above the rating of 1-1 for the turd chewing
day, BRAH!!!!!!!!!
All
I can tell is that Gordo the stock tipper was also there, and so was
a strange girl I knew from Camden, New Jersey in the nineteen
eighties. Nobody needs to know any more, I am already in more trouble
than I can stand times ten to the power exponent of fucking cock
sucking eighty eight. MC was singing along with one of her hit songs
from the future, back in time, and I was trying to understand how the
time was off and how she was all grown and mature, and when I asked
her a couple questions, she took the pizza she was eating and holding
on a paper plate bright blue in color, wild standing about 8 feet
from me, and she threw it at me, and I was wearing her pizza, all
over a nice freshly washed and pressed bright white shirt. Then she
told me not to ask how this was so, and I apologized. The rest gets
super major, and I cannot go here, other than to say that she sat
down and told me my cousin is a rotten dirty loud mouth who should
never burden people with things that they don't need to hear, and
told me it was him who had made her aware of that 1986 song that I
wrote, and he laughed as he did it, and how she wanted to give him 3
quick right cross flurry shots and knock his big flabby body out
straight on the floor motionless, an exact quote from lovely
incredible MC, in that alternate reality in hyperspace. All I can
safely blog beyond this is that at the end, Dawn and her cuzz Letty
walked into the parking lot out to the right of the house or to the
left if, standing outside the front door, to the north, in
Moorestown, New Jersey. They all began asking me about the Speedship
Sunram, and who was up the street next to the Friendly Restaurant,
and I said I did not know, and Letty then walked over, spit on me,
and kicked me in my stomach, doubling me over, and everybody began
laughing and clapping and slapping hands. I got up eventually holding
my guts in pure excruciating agony, and said, there will be a doctor
Mark wolf in an office next door to there but that will be about 7
years in the future, and he will become my hypnotherapist. With that,
MC began singing her famous number one song from 1997, and then Ann
threw a bowl of cereal and milk at me and it went into my hair and
was all dripping down all over me and I felt like a helpless clown. I
started screaming, stop doing these things to me, you horrible
people, and then Letty, Leticia Tilley, MC's distant 'twinnish'
cousin, walked over and hit me right in the chin, and the next thing
I knew, I was falling off of my bed and onto my floor, here in my
apartment, something that has not happened to me in ages. It was
disastrous and I fully expected the day to go super bad, but it
managed to escape a botbar as I said, by a tiny eeked out fraction,
and I don't cheat, as I'd only be mother fucking cheating myself,
folks!!!!!!!!!
********55555555555555555555********
WHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Folks, the entire world is what it is,
just as Dawn-Marie King said so, over and over and over and over and
over!
I
had an incredible thing happen to me on august 28 of 2013, and now I
mother fucking totally realize that it is every bit as cosmically
fucking powerful and awesome as what happened on august 15, in
1986!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me quickly explain myself, in a
totally short compressed way.
All
I fucking did was make a few sonic alterations to my own
machine-sample-copied work from the title that the greatest
lab-technician on this planet made at the afe of fourteen years when
she said to me, ''You'll be Crossing Over Grant Avenue to make a left
on to Academy Road''. If these things don't back off of me, my next
song is going to be titled ACADEMY ROAD. I really honestly have had
it, YIP, YPI, YIP, YIP, AND YIP, I have had all I can stand, I cannot
stand no more, Pope Yes, or Popeye's, or Popeye the fucking sailor
man, and pal of Wayne Landis Sailor mohr of the Merchant Marines, and
a million Naval secrets, covered up by them and my pop's pal,
Professor Einstein, right MAILCOUNT Dream Man, who loved to put
lovely Stacey Hamblin's mail into my box all the time,for
reasons,only the great cosmos, or MIDDIE, can ever truly know,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
hopw did Robert McGuire pull off that invisibility stunt on Tennessee
Avenue, Professor New York city Kaku??????? Well, how did my dad and
his pal and the Navy pull off the Battleship Eldridge, and for that
matter, how can we move through at least five dimensions with the
tech that this great dude already has given to us” Ask Robert
McGuire of the Irish Pub on Saint James Place, a block south of good
old fucking rotten Tennessee Avenue, in wherwe else, but Atlantic
city, New Jersey. When I blogged how my coworker, Trucker bill, told
me the corruption there and how he had to pay the city officials ofdf
or else be put out of business, and I then dared to blog it bacdk in
2006, well, a nasty fire suddenly burned down his Folsom, New Jersey
home that he had worked so hard to build as a younger man. We learn
not to mess with these evil powerful fucking people, or we don't
learn, and we just BURN, so learn or burn, right LAW AND ORDER FOLKS,
who seem to know my entire LIFE STORY right down to the 17000 dollars
with Sally Permission Barrier Starr, so my only question can be now,
WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU ALL GROWN UP AND NOT ON SOME CARTOON
FROM POPEYE THEATER, WHERE ARE YOU MOE, WHERE ARE YOU CURLY, WHERE
ARE YOU LARRY???????? SOMEBODY NEEDS A GOOD LAUGH RIGHT ABOUT FUCKING
NOW, and guess what, it ain't my all powerful wonderful daughter,
CHEMTRAILS OR NO CHEMTRAILS, HUH RUSS THAXTON OF
1969????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
JANUARY
31, 2014,
FRIDAY
BOTBAR AFTERNOON AT 3:37
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 75 DEGREES FNHT.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2014
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My blogs:
OH
SHIT.
- I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU SO, BABY BLOND, AND I NEED YOUR CODES TO SHOW, PRECIOUS GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
IS MORIANITY,
PART EIGHT,
AND PLEASE BELIEVERS AND L-4
FOLKS, TRY AND HAVE YOURSELVES
A VERY
VERY NICE
DAY.
YOU
ARE
NOW READING
THIS CHAPTER
2.
Jupiter,
Florida welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.
*****W-----O-----W*****
AND *****W-----O-----W*****
*****W-----O-----W*****
*****W-----O-----W*****
*****W-----O-----W*****
*****W-----O-----W*****
*****W-----O-----W*****
*****W-----O-----W*****
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, © Office of Washington????????
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 with some blog
archive work. You'll be more than just clued in, I am going to pop
off big time right now, kind wonderful ladies and
gentlemen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
READ
ON FOR THE ANSWER!
ABOUT ME:
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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.
WHEN
THE CAT IS AWAY, THE WOMO-MILITUFAWCES PLAY!
Well
great peeps, let's get down to
CASES
now,
as promised!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lightning,
you're all MINE!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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, and terrific entertainment industry; and
the media in general. WHAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!
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, it is not time
yet to say unto all of you, nighty-nite, and BYE-BYE!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:
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