LOTS
OF DOORS TODAY, OR YESTERDAY I SHOULD SAY, ON THE HOLIDAY. ANNOYING
BUT NOT THE END OF THE WORLD, UNFORTUNATELY. IT IS COOL BUT HUMID AS
SHIT IN THIS APARTMENT. THE AIR IS GOING ON EVEN SET AT 79 DEGREES,
AND I AM GOING TO PUT IT DOWN TO 77 TO GO TO SLEEP AFTER I POST THIS
PRIVATE JOURNAL.
A
major fucking diareah attack struck me at 3 this morning, about 78
mother fucking minutes ago, PAM BONDI. I know that a lot has to do
with every time these assholes in mother fucking NASA have some space
shit going, as this has been on a total unmissable pattern for 28
fucking years now since this fucking shit all started on 08/15/86.
Over the past three weeks or so, NASA has been fucking around, and
they persecute me every time they play with their fucking toys up on
the space coast. Coming down to Florida, when passing through their
territory on Interstate 95, the aerial persecution was major fucking
hell back in middle December of 2009, and I'll never mother fucking
forget it, ACLU, FBI, and Mister President, sir. Why I am this
endless target with these cunt lapping mother fucking people, I will
never live long enough to ever totally reason it all out and fully
comprehend it, despite having dozens of mother fucking ideas and
theories. I will not hand these fucking jerk off trash a botbar, and
have chosen at my discretion, to open the new day early, at 2, just
above botbar. This day now also is just above cunt eating fucking
botbar. I have a powerful suspicion that the day will eventually go
SUPER FUCKIGN BOTBAR. I AM OVER
DUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Endless sky
poisons,visible or not, have me continuously wheezing and has
worsened the asthma that they began to cause me at around age 32,
slowly worsening and increasing with each mother fucking year that
passes. I took those pills that the doctor lets me have every couple
years, usually Miss Bondi, Florida State Attorney General Mahm, it
lasts for 6 months where things stay better and my lungs stay clear.
Now, a week or two after my six day dosage had ended, the condition
came right back on me. When I am FOUND DEAD, I DEMAND A MOTHER
FUCKING AUTOPSY. I was cunt lapping fucking murdered by this evil
fucking rotten ass empire, YO, AND I DEMAND FUCKING COCK SUCKING FAIR
JUSTICE FOR THIS FUCKING CUNT MAJOR CRIME,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
JANUARY
21, 2014,
MONDAY
MORNING AT 4:25
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 54 DEGREES FNHT.
Well,
my wonderful lovely Timeless Satellite gang who came back to watch me
and even mess with me, but not to take me off this world to my
transdimensional freaking satellite; I HAVE TOLD YOU THAT THE
STOCK MARKET
WILL CLIMB
AND NEVER EVER STOP CLIMBING,
JUST AS
LONG AS WALL STREET MAFIA FORCES, CAN ENDLESSLY MAKE MY PATHETIC LIFE
A BURNING NIGHTMARE MOTHER FUCKING HELL.
SO FAR IN THIS MOTHER FUCKING MONSTER HORRIFIC
YEAR OF 2014,
THIS STATUS QUO, AS WE SAID IN GREECE A COUPLE THOUSAND FUCKING YEARS
AGO; IS CONTINUING
QUITE UNRELENTINGLY, AND IS RIGHT ON THE MONEY.
yeah
folks, I
get the Weather Channel and Comcast Television,
I am not living in the caves under the sea, Gorgeous Atlanta,
gorgeous Marina, and Captain Troy Tempest. See, this is what I am
talking about for all you old fucks like me out there who remember
that great cool animated show on afternoon television. They don't
make shit like this or Kimba the White Lion anymore, and whose loss
is it but our children's and grand children's? But they will laugh
and give you a funny look, as we all know, you cannot miss what you
never had and were never and are never, aware of.
NOW
SINCE THESE MOTHER FUCKING COCK SUCKERS ARE DETERMINED TO BOTBAR THIS
ENTIRE MOTHER FUCKING YEAR FOR ME, I am going to tell you all a few
bomb fucking shell nasty wild secrets, as a RETALIATION.
Back
in 1977, I met a real jerk off named Jan, who did sound recording and
thought he was a little god at the age ob twenty-nine. He had a
little studio in a music store in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, where I
did a total of five songs between 1977 and 1980, and he did such a
rotten job, that Howard Solomon at the RPL Studios in Camden, New
Jersey, reworked the mixes to make them a little more alive and a
little bit better. This made Jan so crazy when he soon came to learn
about it, I thought he and President Jackson were both going to go
out in the woods behind the nearby race track, and duel it out with
me with old Civil War dueling pistols. There is so much more to this
that it would fucking take years to tell it all. This person's name
was given to me in 1975, by Robert Andrews and Albert Pileggi, one
night in the basement owned by the parents of Albert Pileggi, in
1975; less than two blocks away from where I had attended two years
of junior high school, at the Haddon Township High School, in
Westmont, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG. Studying symbolism around me all of
my life since I first met Sarah on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City,
New Jersey USAESMWG, around the age of ten years; notice the ANDREWS
name being something that seems to pop up somewhere between major and
beyond normal statistical averages. I won't even start to anger a lot
of super-girls, sharks, teases, movies, people, job site locations,
and so much more, IO am too fragile and way to old and puny and soft
to get the crap kicked out of me by all these rotten potential
enemies. This dude with this studio called, MAXFIELD, after my
situation with the MILITUFAWCES
all got going, and super 'twisted-sister-nasty'; this fine
'gentleman' suddenly decided to get his trading license, and he
became a stock broker; and moved out west to fucking California, with
Governors I'll Be Bahk, and Roller Derby Brown; right Leo
Quiggley???????
What
you do not know is that this connection to stocks, as well as Arty
Singer's son who was my own stock broker for several years a while
ago, Richard Singer; Arty wrote the hit rock and roll song we all
know and love, called, ''At The Hop''. This was the man who with
his associate back in 1995, during my Haddonwood days, and
right after meeting up with Poolroy, as I''ll call this really wild
cool dude; did something to me that has no earthly explanation. He
would not let me trade with him and his firm after trading with him
upon numerous occasions when he was with other larger outfits, even
Merrill Lynch Pierce Fenner and Been, in the autumn of 1979. He and
his pal had some lame excuse of setting up the account in a way that
I could not make a dime no matter what, and this
was a year where nobody but NOBODY COULD LOSE IN THE FUCKING STOCK
MARKET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My
mother and I lost 900 dollars
while all those around me everywhere were making tens of thousands of
dollars, it was a total set up. The one good trade I got
into, he insisted I get out of and into a different one that lost for
me but generated for him a double commission, and this is of course
where stock brokers truly make their money. One percent of these rat
bastards are really able to make in the market with their own real
trades, and just take profits by generated commissions from their
clients. But this story cannot end yet, because in the very early
autumn in 1979, I am the reason for the second gold rush in this
nation, only this time it did not involve minors, miners, goldmines,
or mountains, or songs, or stories and sagas of these stories and
songs, oh great mighty PAULA and ANN KING of Atlantic City, and
WAYV-FM Radio. Here is the beginning of my woes with WALL STREET, as
the rumors are and always will fly around like Poolroy and his
fantastic Gravigain Hypertronic invention that he left to me one day
in the pool of Haddonwood Swim Club, and then left this world about
seven years later almost to the day. Not one of these things can be
fact checked on the internet, only I know these things. If it makes
anybody out here feel like a hero to accuse me of being the
quintessential liar of century-21, then you just fucking go right
ahead!!!!!!!!
We
need to go back to the summer time in 1979 while I resided at an
apartment house in Williamstown, New Jersey, on Main Street, owned by
Mister and Misses Doris Plum; who were both a couple of very nasty
peeps, who quite soon after my moving in there; when I showed no
interest in the young beauty queen who lived across from them in the
front of the building, and who they sort of mothered; and she flirted
with me a lot; I
was then ''the enemy''. This is why I fucking hate
women and sex and love, and all of this nonsense shit so much, to be
real honest about it folks. All my life, ALL MY MOTHER FUCKING ROTTEN
ASS LIFE, this shit has been used adversely and negatively on me,
always there to be against me and to cause me fucking cunt lapping
grief and agony, one way or the other; OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND
FUCKING CUNT OVER, YEAR AFTER YEAR, AND DECADE AFTER DECADE, MISTER
BOB PRICERIGHT BARKER; KIND WONDERFUL FREAKING SIR, YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Moving
this along further, here at 6:10 Post Meridian, Eastern Standard
Time, on this fucked up rotten cock sucking SATURDAY NOT ALL RIGHT
ELTON JOHN NIGHT, on 4 JANUARY OF 2014!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
While
living here, the fixed 32 dollars per ounce price of gold, was made
liquid, and it began to be traded and was added to the commodities
that could be legally traded, such as silver or copper or palladium,
and others, on world future markets, by speculator-investors, such as
me at the time. In those days you could control one million dollars
worth of metals or ONE CONTRACT, with only 800 dollars in your
account. This very low margin is a yesterday-thing. There still is a
margin, but never is the ration anything like that any more. I used
to trade 2,3,4 million dollars worth of T-Bills and T-Bonds, gold,
palladium, the grains, the meats; you name it. Shortly after I
stopped trading in th early eighties, all sorts of things began to be
traded, coffee, orange juice, indexes of stocks, you name, today it
is traded. Those who need to have a guaranteed cash price such as
farmers can have this promised price while their commodity is still
growing in the ground, while us speculators were trading and changing
these prices and losing and winning huge sums of money. When I opened
the account I first traded with Rich singer, I already had an account
with another guy whose name I forgot, and it was another huge
brokerage firm in Manhattan, back in 1979; while I was employed at
the RPL Sound Recording Studios of Camden. LSS, I was staying at the
home of the mother of a decorated Air Force Officer, Captain Heller,
who became Major Heller a few years later, in the USAF. His mom,
Audrey was a friend of my mother's, and used to call and I quote her,
my mom's old boyfriend, Mister Sidney Crown, ''Obnoxious''. I used to
love to listen to her and my mom, she had a million aisle roller
things that she said, and made me fall to the floor on more than one
occasion, folks. Later in transdimensional hyperspace, she called me,
''A sick genius''. This was after the dispute over here in this
parallel world reality, about her living with my mother and myself,
at the rental home in Atco, New Jersey, at 134 Norris Avenue. If this
had happened, all of the planet's timeline here in this part of
hyperspace, would have been significantly altered, I promise you all
that!!!!!!!!
but
back to the market, commodities, and more specifically, the METALS
MARKETS IN 1979, and the gold rush that whether you want to believe
it or not, the whole world of the powerful world-owners, knows, I
STARTED. All I knew was a few little things, but that was enough. I
learned many more things, but this caused Wall Street to attack me
and destroy me and do this until the end of my days on this Earth, as
Mark Wayne Mohr. How do I know this. A very very very powerful person
spoke up recently, and told me so, that is how, lovely beautiful teen
Ingrid from nearly 31 years ago in 1984. My dad had just told me two
years earlier in 1977, that his hidden Spanish and Portuguese
treasure galleons in gold bullion bars alone were worth at least one
hundred million dollars, at the fixed price then of 32 dollars per
ounce, it has seen a 400 times that amount high since those times,
nearly a forty thousand percent slow steady climb. This equals around
40 billion smacks. Then there is all that other shit that those
lovely Latins stole from the South American Natives 3 and 4 hundred
years ago, from coin-dablooms, artifacts, and every type and kind of
precious stone and Jewell that any woman can ever imagine and
salivate over. When I opened the account up, I had taken 3500 dollars
out of a credit account and placed the cash in an envelope, stuck in
inside of my shoe, and went physically over one day and opened my
brokerage account. If memory serves me at all correctly, this was
when I had just started my job at the studio, and was waiting for a
purchase settlement on a home in Mantua, New Jersey to go through,
and was living at the home of Audrey Heller until October 15, 1979,
the date of settlement. I opened the account up and wanted to trade
immediately. My broker, the one before Mister Singer, Dennis Corwell
or Conwell or some similar name that eludes me at this present time,
kept insisting that the metals markets were totally quiet and still,
and that nobody was trading them. I sat there early that afternoon
watching those little computers with green screens, the first of
their kind; a room filled with brokers with these machines with
nothing but green. I signed the papers and they took the cash,
something that today they would not do and would insist on me giving
a cashiers check. They said I could trade right away but advised
against it. I did not care, I wanted fiercely to jump in and so I
bought one contract or BOT-1 CON, of Palladium. We got talking a few
more minutes after this, and I maybe should not tell the rest of this
story, as it is wild and could get me put into federal prison
perhaps, if no statute of limitations exists on this particular thing
that I did, and had no idea of the consequences that would result.
Christ, I was a kid, maybe 25 tops, what could I have possibly known
about all this shit?
Well,
after 20 minutes, some talking broke the hushed silence in the room
and my broker Dennis Caldwell, that is it, that was his name; thank
you unconscious mid for sending that into my waking world awareness
and memory system, YO, he came from a few partitions away back to his
little area where I was sitting in a very comfortable but small
office chair; and he said the metal market is ticking upward a tiny
bit, ''it started after you blipped the radar screen with your one
little 1-CON-BOT trade''. Quietly I am thinking to myself, crissake
and dogshit, is that all it takes to move a quiet market, little me
buying one million dollars worth of metal with a 35 thousand dollar
account using an 800 dollar margin? Then I began thinking about my
dad and how now these metals were no longer at fixed prices. I did
understand the laws of basic supply and demand quite well, as these
laws were all throughout my life, and I did have reasons personally
for me to be a bit more aware of these things, say for example over
the average dudes my age, and duddesses sorry. I began telling how my
dad had dove with the famous Mel Fisher and Kip Wagner on the
treasure Coast of Florida, east of Vero Beach, and that he left me
sea charts worth a fortune, maybe into the billions with these metals
prices. He was fascinated. I also through Jim Burr who these blogs
mention frequently and unfortunately; knew an inventor by the name of
Zvonko. He claimed he almost had finished an invention that had some
wild side effects, back in 1974, the day that he brought that wild
turntable music player into my bedroom apartment at O-15 Dellway Arms
Apartments on Oakland Avenue, in Oaklyn, New Jersey, the same place
where the BOOK OF BEACH was
burned by the great Russell Thaxton, the CHAIN
was magically removed by Sarah
Krassle, and the powerful next
day TRINITRAIL appeared all over Camden County, in New
Jersey.
Now
moving back up ten years to the topic-present time in latter 1979,
here I am at this brokerage with Dennis Caldwell, my stock broker, an
open account, and a million dollars in Palladium in my name. Just
disturbing a super quiet metals market, appeared to put a blip of
seemingly inconsequential connection, and a slight movement was
happening, the minutes went by, and it was ticking a little higher. I
mentioned after the diving and my dad, to Mister Caldwell, this man
Zvonko, and his machine that I witnessed in 1974 about 5 years ago.
It shone a light down on phonograph records, and they played without
any contact being made, the records never would age and wear out, and
the wound quality was also enhanced. Then I told him he was nearly
finished with this invention that resembled a machine like you all
have on your desks, and he stared at me in near disbelief. It was
bigger than a laptop computer of today's world and smaller than a
large suitcase. It had an old style rill up nine foot antenna that
supposedly connected to a string of satellites that weren't built
yet. Now I really had the dude's attention and he asked just what the
side effect was. I told him nearly verbatim what Zvonko had spoken to
me in that apartment on that late afternoon in 1974. Somehow this
weird device tuned into picture and sound sources like television,
only they were not yet transmitted and were filled with all kinds of
strange printed stuff and many things foreign to me. He went onto say
he liked being able to see all these things, and hear them too, but
it seemed as if this was not his invention. He also went onto end his
little verbal essay with me with these words. I remember them
perfectly and exactly. They ring in my ears up in 2014 right now,
just as the fire alarm was doing the past 10 minutes or so before the
FPFD came and took care of it. Anyway, he said that metals will not
be inexpensive much longer, and that he did not wish to say more.
Naturally I pressed and pressed the dude until he broke and swore me
to secrecy. It does not matter because he disappeared and his entire
family disappeared, about a year or so later, some time in the year
of 1975. But I will tell you what he said. He said a huge secret was
learned accidentally by members in his family about Fort Knox, and
that the place was secretly being expanded underground, new tunnels
that went very deep into new areas being excavated. A huge river, an
underground river was just below where the bottom foundation was, and
that after all of the gold in the entire place was taken to its new
areas, a break in the foundation below it all caused the river even
below that, to begin seeping in, and men had died trying to get the
gold out of there. They were unrecognizable and had to be secretly
disposed of. This river from the subterranean depths had an extremely
high acidity due to some volcanic action nearby even below this. All
he said to me was it cannot ever ever come out or the world would
collapse, but all of our gold was literally eaten away by this river
of pure acid. They closed up the tunnels, with a loss of dozens of
super hushed up workmen, and that was that. I asked him how the
invention had anything to do with it, and he said that his
grandchildren were going to be drilled and drilled to use this on a
grand scale someday like around 2020 or so, his exact words and
timing, not mine. I still said, so what? He said this machine's side
effect is beyond incredible, but it needs to be refined abnd worked
on and will take decades, but it will be able to be done, and what it
will do is turn magma and lava material, when mixed with this
chemical in small doses, and hundreds of gallons of normal seawater,
into gold, pure total solid gold. Someday the price will be pennies a
pound, but for the next number of decades, until this device can be
finished, metals will soar because of the problem at Knox. I never
saw or heard from him again, and 9 and a half years later, his good
friend Jim Burr gave me the old invention of the weird laptop before
there were laptops, in exchange for a magazine that I had. He was
madly in love with Connie Chung the newscaster. This was the 1978
September issue of STAG, a dirty filthy mag like Penthouse or Playboy
or a million others out there in the dirty book stores. In this
magazine that most copies were confiscated, were dozens of naked
disgusting shots of this international news broadcaster, Connie
Chung. I took the invention down to Orlando Florida with me, but it
ended up in the streets of Washington, DC before arriving down in
Orlando in December of 1983, and nobody needs to know any of this,
NOBODY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I did not get into these parts that I am
adding in for the sake of these blogs and my life journal records;
but what I did tell my brand new stock broker, Mister Dennis
Caldwell; was the forbidden story of Fort Knox, and I laughed and
said I'm sure it is all a bunch of bullshit. But the look on his face
was beyond the look a man would give you if you just told him that
you raped his teenaged daughter and his wife both together. I don't
think I ever saw a look on a face like this, not even in a movie. He
jumped up out of his seat telling me, and I remember it well, ''Be
right back old man'', one of his expressions, I came to learn, as I
looked like a 16 year old boy in those years. He came back and told
me if it's OK with me, can I leave now, I have seen the brokerage and
he had given me lots of time and now must get back to lots of stuff
he needed to do. While he said this to me, phones were ringing off of
the hook and the place went from half asleep to a mad house. I got
home and it was after business hours, it was a long drive back in
rush hour traffic, to Audubon, New Jersey and Audrey Heller's place.
Next morning while dead to the world, Audrey at her job and me alone
in the house, Dennis calls me and says, after I said hello and he
said ''Mark, it's you right'', and I said yeppir or something like
that, half asleep. He then said, ''LOCK LIMIT UP''. I said to him
what's that mean? He said that is good, your position in the
palladium contract was at maximum profit and already no longer able
to even trade today. Next morning he called and did not wait for me
to say it is me, and he said, ''LOCK LIMIT UP''. This was the
beginning of the gold rush. I know I started it by telling the great
Zvonko Knox secret, real or not real, who can ever know, but I had no
intention of trying to manipulate a fucking metal market. Right after
this, that jerk off wealth HUNT from HUNT FOOD, did indeed go onto
corner the solver market, and this is a historical fact that anyone
out here can check out with simple Googling.
OH
SHIT
does anything that resembles fucking normalcy, ever become a part of
my screwy weird life, ladies and gentlemen????????
NO
IT DOES NOT, MISTER FUCKING MICHAEL MOUNTAINPEN.
THIS
HAS BEEN THE PRIVATE LIFE JOURNAL OF MARK WAYNE MOHR AAAS.
So
indeed folks, just where have all of the
TRUTH-PATRIOTS
all
gone to, and when will any of us ever learn anything? Am I right
to ask this; Dawn
Cuba
Lottery-Dad???????
AT&T and the Snowed-In Never Say Anything peeps, all know what is
being said here, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO, Earth
shaking
as it may be!
THE
LIFE OF A DAM DECAPITATED CHICKEN is heaven, next to my hellish
nightmare life. Jesus fucking god
almighty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:
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