MORIANITY
PART VII, CHAPTER XIII
JANUARY
3, 2014,
FRIDAY
MORNING AT 2:43
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 69 DEGREES FNHT.
You
Buddhists out here, I KNOW YOUR BELIEF SYSTEM IS THE ONLY ONE THAT IS
ACCURATE AND TRUE, AND YYYYYYYYY I KNOW IT IS THE HELL I HAVE
SUFFERED THROUGH, AND IT HAS ZERO-NADA-ZILCH OTHER POSSIBLE
EXPLANATION for all being and happening. Only your religion works in
all of this, your and yours alone, so go BUDDHA.
THE
FASCITAR, THE JACOBSON, THE DONALD; AND THE WORLD OF THE
ELECTROMAGNETIC SPECTRUM, is no easy quick thing to be quickly talked
about in a few blog pages, and then poof, you are now the next Potter
Wizard,
no sir; nothing like this at all peeps. Nothing
is further from truth than thinking I can make you see my life and
the shit going on in it, and how powerful it all is when all hooked
up to the rest of cosmos.
I could scream on a soap
box on every street corner
with thousands of duplicate me's, until we all got arrested and
jailed; and it would prove about as much as Jennifer Washburn, and me
flying over her Providence House building, that day back in the early
middle twenty-oh's.
But interacting more efficiently with MIND-GRAVITY,
by totally knowing and realizing the truth of what SPACE-TIME-MIND is
all about; indeed still is the only reality and truth that pertains
to it all, and just because I cannot make my thoughts transmit as
well or (teach), as Professor Kaku and other greats out there in the
scientific community; does not make these truths one tiny ass
fraction less valid, or one tiny bit more fictional and void. I still
would like to punch my asshole self right in the dam nose for not
being smart enough to be in fact, a great teacher. Great teachers are
a commodity not yet realized in the G-20, and is worlds away from
being fully or even partially appreciated by those who rule and
govern our lives, whether this be in America in Washington, DC, or in
any other capitol area of power on this spinning ball of puke we all
call home, and the Earth.
I
AM NOT GOING TO WASTE ONE MORE SECOBND OF TIME. I MUST TELL YOU WHAT
HAPPENED BEFORE THIS HORRIBLE FIRST BOTBAR ATTACK DAY OF 2014, THE
SECOND DAY OF THE YEAR AND THE MONTH, BRINGING ME STRAIGHT TO A NEW
YEAR MPB OF 50% COMING OFF OF A ZERO ON DAY FUCKING
ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Diana told me something in HER
GREAT FOREST between the time I went to bed and the time I got up
after my second loud noise siege, both times right at or around Jane
Sleazeweedsdisease times, first in the AM, then in the PM, and yes, a
typo, I said 6:57 in the afternoon on a previous blog and there is no
such time as we all know, I obviously meant in the EVENING, YO YO YO
YO.
I
don't dare tell it all. It is that fucking powerful folks. It is
nothing that I would not have eventually all figured out by my little
lonesome, given time, but maybe a very very large amount of time, and
she did not feel I should wait to know what was imparted to me, and
now, I KNOW SOME REAL POWERFUL CRAP,
FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ever
since this silly internet and PC revolution began shortly following
the death of Sara J. Karge in October of 1990; these silly James bond
things made the inner-child in us feel all cool and important, even
the great stars themselves, all this nonsense with passwords,
user-names, screen-names, and so on and so forth, it is great for
hiding in anonymity, something, speaking of the great stars (man-made
ones of course) Mister Copyright Office Office Ocean's Sodom; but my
pernt mister Archibald Freaking Bunker remains the same no matter
what the deal might be here, great folks. All I will say and smart
peeps that may be reading me, if just 3 or 4 or 5 or whatever, will
have to employ a little gray matter brain power, but try hard, and I
promise you, you will get all of this, and when you do, you are going
to say, oh that poor little mother fucking bastard, Mark Wayne
Mountainpen Mohr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
said it before, and I will say it again. If you don't want to make
known the biggest secrets you never want out in your life, great
folks; don't write words, music, paint pictures, stay away from the
worlds of ART, and I do not mean the abbreviation for LUCK TESTING in
1985, (ACCURACY RATING TESTS)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hungry for more?
Now
I said this before, and I am going to reiterate, so skip if you wish,
as there is more to follow, but I want to lead that stuff in with
this, and it is my blog just as Judy's court is HER
PLAYPEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In
blogs I have done over the past eight years now; quite a small feet
if I may say so myself, good folks; I have discussed the FASCITAR,
and told a small bit of this ancient ultra secret set of paranormal
instructions, for proving to anyone; that atheists are all wrong
about nothing being ''beyond'' this so called waking and mortal life.
I do not make this judgment call, so don't come at me with sticks and
stones and knives and guns, please. The Fascitar makes this claim,
and then goes on to verify its claim, to anyone who has the fucking
balls to properly use it, and thus see it all for themselves. I do
not plan on rehashing any of these instructions or even reiterating
what it is all about, not here on this blog, as that is not a part of
the point that this writing will be trying to make. All I want said
about it is that is more secret than anything else kept and called a
secret, and that if released into the general population, it would be
a matter of only a short space of time, that all of humankind and its
organized power structure large religions, would dissolve away and be
exposed for the total frauds they are, in a nutshell, being there to
give hope to those who fear death and hell, the hell part created by
them to generate that fear, and other things time prevents me from
detailing on this particular writing. But it is all there, if anyone
should have the desire and the time, to archive my blogs that show
up, these current ones, and then on this current one, on many of
these blogs, I show the BIO-PAGE, where you can click next to any of
five bullets that name my five original blogs, on BLOGGER DOT COM,
beginning in January of 2006. This appears right next to a normally
larger font made by me, area, saying' ''MY
BLOGS''. Now we move this along to part two of four which is
the JACOBSON, and also known in
my blog texts and writings since the near beginning of them, as SARAH
JACOBSON; from the New Jersey Rehab System
of Camden, New Jersey, and who attended the REHAB CLASS,
in the same special education school that I went to, on Hopkins Lane,
in Haddonfield, New Jersey; back as the nineteen-seventies began to
come into the scene, replacing the love/hate sixties' truly known in
all of its mysterious numerous ways, by only those who were there to
live and experience these wild times.
Sarah
Jacobson was not an ordinary girl by any stretch of anybody's
imagination. She was extremely lovely with long dark hair, extremely
tall, unfathomably physically strong, the coolest personality in the
world, and seemed to have advance knowledge of future events, as did
some others in this lace just a short while back, coming to mind
first and foremost, is Misses Marola, who knew the way the first ten
years of the following century were going to be pronounced, while
nobody else seemed to, and other stuff is just as suspect as well,
leading me to the conclusion that right after she was suddenly gone,
her replacement as a younger self was immediate, the JACOBSON.
Without boring anyone to tears and back, all the way to Christmas of
twenty-seventeen or so, I'll abridge, compress, and transform what
comes next, into a real short and sweet little ditty of words that
tell what needs to be told, without any of the fat or window
dressing. It will be thinned out to anorexic proportions, but you
will get the connections, if you want to, and if you really are
trying to, good peeps.
Misses
Marola insisted that I do something, not on school time, and where
she did not have the authority to be so ultimately relentless with me
against my will, but did it anyway, and it all led me to be at a
place at a totally different time on May the Thirtieth of 1969, in
Atlantic City, New Jersey, than would have been the case if she had
not forced this issue, and this event, altered the course of my life,
and many many lives around the world to this very day. All
major events that pertain to the story of Mountainpen and morianity,
and MARK WAYNE MOHR, seem to be on and occur on A
LEGAL UNITED STATES HOLIDAY. This goes quite a bit beyond
mere happenstance or coincidence. You may insist on disagreeing with
me, and as I said many times, I am willing to fight and die on any
battlefield in this world, for your right to indeed do so, stupid as
disagreeing with me about all these things possibly being
coincidental, may be.
Now
this was a teacher in this special education school, and she was my
teacher, from early middle February through late into June, back in
1969. Once she did her job, knowing already that my days with Sarah
on Tennessee Avenue were winding down on this last summer of running
into her, somehow, but she knew it, believe that; this is when on the
following spring in 1970, my encounter with the great next paranormal
person to come into my life, indeed happened, the JACOBSON. I am not
at liberty to tell all that I want to here. The world simply is not
ready to accept so much. After all I went through with all of this,
even I am light years away from understanding and appreciating the
full scope of this big-picture story happening all around me and even
still to this very day, so how the devil can I in good conscience
expect anyone else to GET IT?
Still,
SHE HAPPENED, and it was very major. She did things to me both while
I was awake and asleep, that both Sarah from Tennessee Avenue did to
me, and way up in my adult life, her newest persona has done,
beginning in 1997 and then going on a lull for a while until a full
11 years ticked by past then. Only so much more connects all of this
that volume sized encyclopedias would never contain it in proper
elucidated details that would not leave any kind of blanks or skips
in this awesome and inconceivable story. Now, and since 1980, I no
longer have one paranormal, but two paranormal ''people'' that mess
with me, when the mood strikes them, despite my recent best attempts
to distance myself totally away from them. And the coincidental thing
pops right up again, as when I get the next phase or 3 of 4, the
TRUMP, he does the very same
thing, by stuff he did and bought, that made the few things I used to
enjoy in my rotten life, all turn into total pig crap at the speed of
light, such as buying up all the pageants of beauty queens, and along
these lines, and there are many others, way too numerous to get into,
on this text here today. On top of these interconnecting items that
few have the psychic energy or PERCEPTION
to properly even begin to see, or 'spiritually
visualize' so to speak; is the way an entire life can be seen
if you stand back away from it as a totally neutral observing
outsider; and watch what I jokingly now call, ''HALLS FAWCES'',
working through an entire huge operation, that makes things all
happen, no matter how incredibly hard one might try and fight against
it, it is exactly like swimming against a rip tide on steroids, and
being four years old, and who had just been taught to swim a day or
two ago.
Now
speaking of invader Phase-4 entity TRUMP, not the brain or body; but
the 'HIM' that is inside of it, that no surgeon could ever cut open,
and then so much as hope to witness or observe or measure in any
meaningful way, not yet with today's teck, right Professor
SCI-CH-KAKU?, but yes, speaking of this wild dude who influenced me
to create him on a 1980 open reel semi-pro mastering machine called
the RS-1500-US tape recording machine, where would I even think of
starting? I could type for a year, and not tell it all, so why even
begin such a futile time wasting energy wasting endeavor? I won't.
BUTT, it is time to draw the connecting FAWCES of mister Hall, into
these three items, FASCITAR, JACOBSON, TRUMP. This item is called the
electromagnetic spectrum. Again, I will shorten a quick lecture about
all of this to get a few of my smarter readers really thinking and
maybe drooling on their shoes; but that is all I can do. It would
take lifetimes to try and explain the life that I have already lived,
and just as me, in three dimensions, as Mark Wayne Mohr. I could give
all of you the accepted scientific explanation first off of just what
really, this mysterious sounding item is all about, the EM spectrum,
but that is for the birds. That won't cut any mustard is so far as my
attempt to connect it up to these other three items, not that
anything will, but old gambler me, as many of you already know;
always plays the odds, or said perhaps somewhat more accurately,
tries to pick and choose the very best odds, in all of life's many
situations.
Yes
there is a line that stretches very far to the left and to the right,
and has a speck in the middle called VL (Visible Light). It is just a
fancy scale that measures how quickly things vibrate. Vibration gives
off heat, more of it gives off light, still more gives off many types
of invisible light rays and waves. But telling you this would get me
an A on a term paper in college, for the best down to Earth and
compressed explanation of this subject, and getting an a in some
hypothetical college, is not what this blog is about by a long shot
and a half, so I'll move on and finish my dissertation. Folks, in the
world of the subatomic where nothing is anywhere near the size of an
atom, the rules that govern the physicality of things also are not
the same as those that govern in post atom sized realities. These
rules, laws, or anything you wish to think of them as, are very real,
and they do not bend and are indeed inviolate. Nobody breaks the laws
of anything, from all the basic engineering principles, to
hydrodynamics to aerodynamics, and on and on, it is not going to
happen. As technology improves, and life appears to be breaking the
laws of physics to some degree here and there, you need to see this
as another one of life's so many great parlor illusions. In truth an
honesty, when things around us advance and improve, it is because the
collective mind has not figured out ways to BREAK the LAWS that
govern our world, but because it has figured out ways to interact
MORE EFFICIENTLY within these laws that govern our world. In a real
nutshell with volumes of potential text removed; all I'm saying my
peeps, is this. This smaller realm of what the men and women of
science call ''sub-atomic', or the ASTRAL PLANE, is a reflectional
image of what this realm then goes onto create. It does this creating
by a process that is quite natural, but not to the scientist. The
entities of this realm, DREAM-DOWN into hyperspace mortal world
existences. They lose energy through numerous interactions, and the
way it is regenerated is to sleep and dream, the very opposite of how
humans on Earth think of their human lives and falling asleep and
dreaming every so many hours when they wear out for the day, and need
a recharge. But coming from this realm, where forces are beyond
mysterious; and where there is no space-time-mind as there is here in
the fifth dimensional hyperspace, of all these many parallel
universes, such as the one we live in right now and I am blogging
this message out to all of you; is the true magic of every single
thing that happens while here and supposedly awake in this mortal
realm on the planet called Earth. All the connections to all the
things in my life, your life, our lives, the whole Mexican 27 foot
Pizza pie; is because of very strange and
spooky forces; to quote the great pal of my dad, sir
Professor Einstein of Princeton university in a place called
Roddenberry New Jersey McNulty Laugh time; and to give you all the
grand finale' here, parallel universes indeed can effect and rub into
each other electromagnetically, and do; every time electrical energy
and humans connect together; but there is no way in these hyperspace
dream-downs, to effect the locale where we dream off of or FROM, the
subatomic reflections of us, AKA the ASTRAL PLANE. If you are looking
for details of just what happened on the Astral plane, that caused
the Briggbase to all get together in an unconscious way and do all
the stuff that they do, or even for me to quickly sum up an
intelligible way for you to understand powerful wild things in my
human current lifetime (dream-down) resulting from Astral-Plane or
subatomic interactions, well; you sadly deluded yourself at the
beginning of my blog. Common sense tells you that I can open doors
and walk you through a million trillion things and endlessly expand
and tell infinitely more stuff, but those looking for a worldly type
of accurate Google-road-map to pop up somewhere, in any way, shape,
or form, is most likely the King or the Queen of the Eternal Optimist
Club of the World (EOCW), and would be loved madly, by the girl who
in 2008, I nicknamed, ''TWINBAY'',
from where else but Egg Harbor Township.
I
will keep telling stuff, there is an infinite supply. Just don't
expect a perfect wonderful Google Map, hell, I could have used one
that day that I took Chicky's dam brothers to the JFK Airport.
Now
this was repeated for a reason, whether anyone out here chose to
re-read it or not. I do not do things for no reason. If you want to
know bean squat about me, that is lesson number point oh one, good
folks, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
***''And
A Rotten Christmas To Us All''***
No
that is off my chest. Here is as far as I am willing to go, and it is
not real pretty, and you will make some false guesses, I promise you!
So don't go thinking you're freaking Einstein; but go ahead and work
that noggin noodle upstairs, above your necks; great folks. The
change might be real good for you, WHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!
I
will not be able to ever speak to the general public. They are being
completely controlled mind-robotically, to avoid anything I ever
could possibly do or write, be it blogs, be it music, be it as the
great Robert Andrews of Oak Street in Haddon Heights, New Jersey,
would put it so eloquently in his late teens, ''WHATEVER'', and this
saddens mother fucking me to the point of seriously pondering my
suicide later today. Just as in the clever manipulation of words and
phrases, and being a cute-ass, either intentionally, or accidentally;
with the two things I heard Sarah say to peeps who she knew, on
Tennessee Avenue, within my ear shot, for me to hear, back in 1969,
for cosmicly important reasons that only an Almighty ISIS JUPITER
GODDESS can possibly know and be behind it all; to the thing she did
directly say to me on that same street on December 7, 1996, well, not
really in any time, but that was the time I was asleep in this body,
when she said to me and I quote her, ''Let's play a game boy, called
''Guess the name of the guests''. Shortly around this time, maybe a
month later give or take, I went to sleep again on another occasion,
and my aunt Geraldine Snow Mason was with me and told me that if I
want to find my super girl, as she called Sarah Nurockey, in this
wild interaction; I needed to do something, and instead of her
speaking what I needed to do, she just caused me to materialize on
Jefferson Street, near the Delaware River, in Camden, New Jersey,
just across the street from a parking lot where in 1980 on the
weekend nights, I was a security guard, for this large licorice
factory, called, Mac Andrews & Forbes. A child with a severe
brain hemorrhage could see the power in all of this as long as they
were not directly living in and connected into the life that I was at
those times in the middle nineties, losing my sanity literally, in
this wild frantic search to locate this mysterious incredible super
girl from yesterday.
Cousin
Donald almost went nuts when he learned of this wild ''dream''. He
wanted to suddenly come out to the house in Somerdale and bring some
wild lamps, like nothing I had ever seen. Well, I would see them, but
not until around 2002 somewhere, while sound asleep at the Roadway
job site late one night, and suddenly found myself in the great city
of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, and my mom and I were helping the great
Sarah's friend and Viqueen Mariloo, and her mom, Carla-jay-jay
Nemruvoz; up to a second or a third floor, in a condo where over in
the waking world, where I now type these words, is called, the
Atlantic
Palace,
on Saint James Place, in Atlantic City, right there a block or less
away from where Sarah and I had so much interaction on numerous
realms, back in the sixties and up throughout the time that passed,
illusion or not. Yes Microsoft, I am quite nervous, as if I say too
much, I'm fucking dead meat. I am dealing with ISIS here, YO. The
lamps that Cuzz Don brought over and don't ask me where they ended up
as my mind has been blanked out by great washcloths of hands washing
David's and other great saga's and
KINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will say that I am not a
happy camper, and it may be accurate to say, I am a very crappy
cramper. When dead relatives and parents appear in dreams with
regularity because of a problem in this life, you can pretty much bet
your ass that your problem is dead ass serious, from here to all
possible permission barriers, and EXIM RATIOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Also do not forget my early blogs telling you that this woman, my
aunt, who married my mother's brother, Stuart Huntington Mason, had a
father who was well known on the Philadelphia main line, and was also
a big wig in the Phels Planetarium of Philadelphia, and all these
coincidences when toted up, make me a lot more nervous than
Microsoft, Kevin Bacon Roberts, and Steve Prefontaine, all put
together and multiplied by a very high velocitronic speeds.
The
lamps that Donald brought over, were the same lamps that Mariloo and
Carla-Jay-Jay Nemruvoz were taking up to their wild suite in that
Astral Plane Condo, that here in waking reality is the Atlantic
Palace Condo. Donald was holding onto the lamps while I told him
about the dream of Geraldine Snow Mason telling me how to ''find my
super-girl'', a precise quotation from that powerful and very vivid
dreaming-interaction.
When
I finished telling the dream, I thought the dude was going to
literally do a Joe Paget on me, and go right off his nut. He was
still talking about this, in a flabbergasted way, months later, in
fact, even on the day he visited the JFK Hospital after my mom was
struck down on 12/26/1997, somewhere in early January of 1998, he
asked me something more about it, and then asked me something about
the lamps he had given me. At the time I was in crisis with my mom's
medical condition, so I could not think about this, but now looking
back in hindsight, a lot of shit becomes wild and clear, that was all
just fuzz and fog back in the late fucking nineteen nineties. He also
told me that his pal, ''JAY'' was asking about me, and I told him to
give him my best. This dude gave me some really cool and very heavy
square bedroom end-tables, two moves before my move into Somerdale,
when
I bought that home for 125,000 dollars and took a major loss on it
when enemies forced me to sell it at a fucking 35,000 dollar loss;
and persecuted me night and day, and even the mother fucking
Somerdale, New Jersey cops, and the then chief of Police, Pope, know
all about it, and if the FBI were to go ask them, I am sure they will
fucking be happy to verify my entire horrendous monster ass story, so
go shoot me with your magnum, Lenny, on some hot July afternoon in
Philadelphia, rap music inventor. We don;t even need SOUND and
interdimensional horse fucking shit to get heavy into all this story,
do we kind folks????
SLAM
SLAM SLAM. YES SIR FOLKS, THIS WAS A VERY BAD DAY ON JANUARY 2, 2014,
and HALLS
FAWCES
have
everything in the dam universe to do with everything, even Stacey and
MLN!!!!!
One
thing I don't plan on doing, is diving any deeper into this messy
deal, Mister PAYPAL LEVCHIN SILVERHANDS
JEFFERSON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is the HUNTINGTON-CURSE,
of which I fear.
Why
did I begin playing with voices and tape recorders, and how does Bob
McDowell and Bruce Pennock fit into all of it; and how does another
powerful truth totally surround this wild circle, whose name was, and
is; Sarah Jacobson? Well, this began in the autumn of 1972!!!!!! The
next blog will really begin discussing the details of this horrendous
nightmare cubed, good folks.
|
Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
|
PAu001148157
|
1988
|
|
|
Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
|
PAu001189027
|
1989
|
James
Bond, and the inner child of humanity, wow; what a wild and ethereal
combination of split realities. Lots of my songs from the eighties,
or the lyrics to them; come to mind as I think about all of that,
peeps. Screen names, screens, old blogs; and me making phone calls to
Mister Gates and Mister Mets, huh United States copyright Office?
Wow, was Donna Gaines Summer correct, when she said ''Daddy said stay
away''. You know I sent you her old shit, YO. I already lived up
here, and knew this entire mess; but I was blocking it. We
all block the bad shit we know via STM.
I am no different at all from any of you, other than for the simple
truth that I don't block the awareness of this all existing and being
a part of reality, not a psych delusion that is created out of a
mental fucking illness. Here is mental illness, Dave Roth, right up
there, right there on 295 highway, out to the fucking east on that
night in the early nineties, there's all the mental fucking illness
you can ever dare to handle, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Well, it
looks like you will be taking a lot of my money soon, United States
Copyright Office. I must stop thinking I am in any real world with
any real peeps who care one real little bit if I should live or die.
Just keep close tabs on me and never let me escape, wow, it is always
in the art, and I don't think it, I know it, and I hope you keep your
dam job in Washington for 100 mother fucking years, you go
lady!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
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