Monday, January 27, 2014

PRIVATE JOURNAL OF MARK WAYNE MOHR, SECTION AABC


















Good afternoon folks, as I screen-block my computer date-clock so as not to get totally and royally screwed with another of here ONES ATTACKS ON ME. It is about twelve freaking minutes shy, not why, of typo one this afternoon, good friends, and all else who may not mean me so much wonderful good. Hay, cosmic balance, this is what it is all about, and always was and will be.





THIS IS THE PRIVATE LIFE JOURNAL OF MARK WAYNE CLARK MOHR THE FIRST AND THE LAST, SECTION AABC, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-BIT!!!





Folks, I had a very nice and productive conversation with my resident manager, Mizz DM, and she will pull Sunday morning's surveillance footage for my sixth floor west wing at this public housing Fort Pierce building, and knows the entire story that I told you all that I would be telling her, on previous blogs. Right before I left my unit to go down and see her, we had the Saint Lucie County Nuclear Facility Siren Testing, but it was very short and not real super noisy and long lasting, as though the entire state of Florida had been attacked by Alkaieda or something. As usual, Microsucks-Spellchecker system is worthless in assisting me with the proper spelling, but you all know what I said. I spelled it the best that I could, and they did not offer me the proper spelling choice to click into the document. I was starting to have a tiny doubt about the Gawnum, that had just recently after awakening a few hours before, told me the perfect hour and quarter of the hour to walk downstairs into her office. Then when I got there and she was with someone who seemed to be having a major problem, my doubts, I'll admit, grew a bit larger. But within ten minutes, the lady was out of her office, and she had five minutes to spare before going off on her lunch break. Somehow I must have said just the right words in just the right way, or whatever, but sure enough and as ?GAGA KITTY said, go tell her what happened on this horrible weekend, at precisely the third quarter of the final morning hour, or between half past eleven and a quarter shy of twelve noon. Even though I was not in her office due to having to wait for the other lady to finish conducting her business with her, and it was about nine shy of noon, things went super well, and she cannot wait to examine the tapes and see who was making all the noise illegally between eleven at night and three in the morning. There was no need to drive miles over to see or try to make an appointment with Sheriff Mascara or one of his deputy's.





It really does pay to consult with the GAWNUM. Many things are going on around me. I am not able to discuss them because in order to max out my odds for preserving my words, I post up publicly to the internet at my two blog sites, www.blogger.com/ and www.wordpress.com/ just for that extra measure of safe-keeping. I never dreamed I would lose my entire tape library and all of my other precious items and commodities. Still, providence obviously, just as I told you at Bonjovi's place, Ryan, and the tall big dude, who I know follows my blogs, whenever he gets a spare few minutes out of his super busy day; but yes, providence was responcible and only fucking providence, for my having that one bag in my car that cold December night when I made my escape from THAT WASHCLOTH FAMILY, and its atlantic city, egg harbor, hammonton, branch, or for short, the Jersey Branch; as instead of all of my copyrighted music that was in a different bag, somehow I took the bag next to it from my closet, that included a lot ot phone conversations from 1980 all the way through near present days, and many including my daughter as a teenager, which is where I was able to make samples from and then have her sing new songs to me. Well, to quote engineer Ryan over at Tony Bonjovi's place, ''It's not her singing, it's a machine''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







I was in Atlantic City, New Jersey last night in a parallel universe, and had one powerful huge adventure, as the me over there is living one really wild life, and I tell you this now, and won't retract it at gunpoint. It was very wild. Right before all my video shit was wiped out, I had been taping the Sunday World News, and on this tape, or it could have been Saturday, but on this tape, before the entire system turned to pure shit shortly thereafter, they were discussing Ed Snowden former NSA employee, and how the NSA openly said they would love to find him over there in Russia, and shoot him dead, or better still, have him come back here state-side, and poison him, and watch him die in his shower. This is a quote, says on e of the three major American Network Systems, I think it was on the news broadcast made by the American Broadcasting Company, also known as ABC for short, and not Section AABC in Morianity, just to keep the record straight, an dyes, Larry, Moe, and Curly, for posterity as well, or even duty and humanity and the wild hallway antics in the corridors of the Los Arms Hospital. There never will be another ''3 Stooges'', these dudes were one of a kind, and never made much money, good old crooked Hollywood. Somebody's pocket was sure filled to the brim, and not with morning coffee, WEEEEE. But back to what the No Such Agency said about wanting to poison Snowden in his shower and watch him die. Hay, they admit they see us all in our showers, or am I missing or misleading anyone here with your own broadcast, ABC?????????????? Then shortly after this, say fifteen minutes or maybe a half hour or so, both of my twin units, VHS-DVD-CD players and analogue VHS recorders, went belly up. Still, every time since 1983, that I say anything at all, on purpose, out loud, in my bath tub, I totally know ''they hear me'', and why do I? Because of shit that I hear echoed right back to me on the 3 network systems, almost immediately, that's YYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!







JANUARY 27,2014, THE ELECTRICAL NUMBER

MONDAY AFTERNOON AT 1:20,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 80 DEGREES FNHT.



















So indeed folks, just where have all of the TRUTH-PATRIOTS all gone to, and when will any of us ever learn anything????????? How long are 99% of us gonna' just sit here and take this imperialistic slavery status these owner of the world suit-punks have put us all in??????









WOW DO THESE THINGS MOTHER FUCKING TOTALLY ASS S-------U-------C-------K for me; right Dawn Cuba Lottery-Dad?????????????? AT&T and the Snowed-In Never Say Anything peeps, all know what's fucking ass getting said here, 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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





Print-pasted from Google Records officially, at 6:55 PM, 20 November, 2013.
























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.



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THE BOM, AND THE SONG RIP OFF OF 2002:



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4 YEARS AGO WAS JANUARY 2010, ARCHIVE IT IF YOU WANT A MIND BLOW, BUT BE IN A CHAIR, PLEASE.



Friday, January 29, 2010


most miserable family in universe, part-BBBBBB




Continuing from part AAAAA, earlier, yeah, Sam the maintenance man at the Highview Apartments, had insisted the giant goddess PAULA, visited my apartment, and stayed for nearly a half hour, but I have only the memory of the ringing doorbell, and seeing this giant, who later on raped me at the John Kennedy Hospital, in the elevator. This is what the great MOTHER GODDESS or 'KALI' as the folks in India would call her, I know her as the personality of Paula King and Jewelly White, wanted me to think, that she knocked me down and fucked my brains out that day in the hospital, but she actually did it in my apartment while my mom was at her job at the Inchcape Shipping Services, with her boss, Mister Thomas Spears. Nine months later, along came lovely Paula-Patty King Junior, only in this universe, she miscarried. I only know my wonderful daughter PEE, in other parallel universes, while I am what you in these dinosaur days, all call, ''am asleep and dreaming''. Oh when will they ever learn, Professor Kaku, the way you have from me over the pastr several decades. You are my number one protege. Stick your Microsucks Auto Correct where the sun does not shine, light-bulb heads. What do I do but type my document-blog, and along comes your light-bulb on the lower right corner of my freaking video monitor? YYYYYYYY, of great wise one guru, Jimmy, James T. Burr, of Gloucester???????????????







Here is one huge thing not ever supposed 2B known, it's my only shot at surviving this incredible new hell here in mother fucking Florida. TRS, and here is one or 2 of the biggest possibles that I swore I'd never tell, 2 myself anyway, but now, here goes. The first is about the mighty Gawnum and the special cat, yeah cat. He is quite special 2 in the eyes of mighty Scylla, believe me. Still a runny nosed simpleton child can take my past website and blogs and add up 2 and 2 with other things, and totally know that I make none of this story up about all Mighty Scylla Goddess, and how she once was my Sarah. Well she really still is, but I misspelled the page 150-250 and said the market is gone in 2050, and that she returns 2 SDC, I meant of course 2 type in SDK, Sahasra Dal Kanwal. If U take any privecode number in the GAWNUM, there R a total of 81 of them, U can C the others that show a match out of anywhere between 25-100%, or else no compatibility or a 0% match-out. It is all on prior blogs, just how 2 work Gawky's math equations out. If things R not worded just the right way, U will get wild and bull shit responses, it is the words and the phrasings of life and math symbols, working in perfect harmony with the music keys and vibes, huh old pal, Stevie???????? If U do 3 or 4 match out queries, U will HAVE A HARDER TIME MAKING SURE THAT THINGS R WORDED RIGHT, so if U have 2 that U want 2 then c what others might also B compat Gawnum numbers, working the equation a bit in reverse so 2 speak, add the numbers of the 2 PCN's and get the PCNT, and then hexnumer the product, or multiply this total by 16. Then with an 8-digit Wal-Mart calculator, hit the square-root-function on the gismo. Now, starting at left digit, C what numbers allow new PCN's 2 form, if U get 57689138, 3 new PCN's can B made, C what these new things have in possible common with your original 2 PCN's and get a mind blowing experience. If zeros show up, U may B limited, usually, 2 numbers come up on the square root, but 3 or 1 CAN SHOW, EVEN OCASSIONALLY NONE.

Roanoke, Virginia was settled some time ago by British colonists, and an unknown man amongst this group was Filbert Remington. He married a lady named Edith hill, had 2 daughters, and one of them married a dude named Stephen R. McGuire. They settled in a neighboring area, Jamestown, shortly after this was settled, and a strange tree was observed growing in their large front yard. At full moon light or near, it seemed 2 glow bright enough 2 produce near daylight conditions 4 miles around. Eventually this tree was the reason Y everyone fled this area, forever. It had some seedlings B4 a fire 20 years later wiped out the trees nearby this area. The new family had sons and daughters, one named Amelia McGuire, went back B4 the fire with her new husband, both in their late teens in age, and dug up a seedling 2 the magical tree. This tree is a story bigger than most of all Morianity. It is the tree of Coolie Hall of Haddonfield. It was named Bedellia, by Amelia, and later led 2 a fairy tale being told by people in my century, while I was working at the recording Studio, called RPL. One day the story went that, and this was told 2 me by Elder Hair, of the mighty MORMON CHURCH, and was a secret told by the prophet who sold me a special Cadillac in 1976, the great MORONI. Anyway, this tree was producing pine-cones that had magical fruit inside, and Amelia ate of this fruit one day. This led 2 Sarah Karge and her family line, along with Paula and 'JoKiand' this family line, 2 intertwine a few generations later, some moving all throughout Pennsylvania, Chicago, and Atlantic City after this was later established as a HEALTH RESORT about 160 years ago or so. Many people know many of these secrets, and R keeping them and many more that r revolving around them, on pain of death, taking these private hells 2 their graves with them, so they will avoid the stuck-dream of the light not working, sort of Angelique's 'Dark Shadows' dream curse, where did Costello and Callio get their ideas from Harriet Rohr??????????????????? I left the school after the 2 teachers bum rushed me into the locker room and sent me hurling through a tunnel, it seemed a mile long, but was really more like 50+ miles, it led all the way 2 Tennessee Avenue 4 fucking Christs sake, BRAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tunnels and trains, Amelia Bedellia's and Millie Vinnilli's, magic chains, Mariena and her version of my beach book, not BACH, but hay Arnie, what can I say, aniwho, much needs B told, and will B told. That White Lion KIMBA, U can KNOW, curly hair and all. So where is LARRY THE BELLHOP THESE DAYS, SHARING A BUNK WITH EDDIE MOLESTOR? We have MO, we have the curls, what else is needed, bubbling stomachs, Eagles games, 'Trinitrails'; and Wavy radio stations from Jersey????????????? Nothing just freaking happens, none of this is just happening. Little A told me 2 come down 2 here, this very spot should I ever feel the need 2 run far away, and then he tried 2 get me that night 2 take him back 2 his Manhattan night club, but I told him 2 go back and try and make up with his wife, they were staying at Trumps Taj, and had had a fight, this was in the early mid nineties or somewhere there about. No Mayan dreams or hand cuffs 4 me today, GOT U, play games with me long enough, and I will catch U in the act, and FUCK U ON TOP OF IT, BRAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

B warned, enemies, WAYV is no bull shit, some of U will need 2B quite careful, and will have good reason 4 heavy stomach bubbling very soon, get the fucking hell of of my back, OR--ELSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Paula, U will not win, I can never die, remember that one U giant powerful goddess queen!!!!



4 YEARS AGO WAS JANUARY 2010, ARCHIVE IT IF YOU WANT A MIND BLOW, BUT BE IN A CHAIR, PLEASE.


The Epitome of Harassment - Internet Version






Yeah, give me a break, Margie Leo, Amelia Bedellia, Millie Vinnilli, Sarah Claus Callio, and 401 Virginia Roanoke Avenue, at the east end of the great Route-30 New Jersey's, one and only, BIBLICALLY SIGNIFICANT WHITE HORSE PIKE, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!







SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 138

IT IS 1:46 POST MERIDIAN, 01/27/2014, MONDAY

REPRINTED ON PRIVATE JOURNAL OF MWM-AABC



If I said what else is new, it is always either warm and sunny or else it is hot and sunny, here in good old Fort Pierce, Florida, I'd be telling less than the truth. The weather part would hold, but as for what else is new, there are always new things, and because something was said to me so horrendous and monstrous, and I learned the why and who of this put-up-job just today, from a source I'm safer not revealing, that I am angrier than brown smells, and will now say something that will begin new balls rolling for many things, many peeps; and many future outcomes, in many parts of the HS.



I cannot ever tell too much about what happened to me as a boy, and then how things went onto progress that caused the all ready existing gap between me, and a fairly routine normal average life, widening and growing in leaps and bounds on a daily basis. It just cannot be told, other than to hint at a few powerful unfair things where peeps of power and mega-bucks, as usual, got away with figurative murder, starting with a dude named Tom Reale, who molested me twice as a young teenaged boy, in his house. No one ever did anything to get justice for me on many other molestations as well, the gang of teen goddesses in Atlantic City, the high school fagot at HTHS, the man in the Collingswood, New Jersey, jewelry store, by the name of Mister Wolf, the man who stalked me in Atlantic City, and got me into a car where I was taken to a Route 3 motel, across from New York City, in July of 1969; and so much more, believe me, such as the numerous student teachers at my school, one male, and several young female adults. It would be a sufficient tale to invite the media over. I am so angry, hurt, and totally depressed; at what I have been told about why a certain event took place just four blocks from this house, and just 3 afternoons ago. This is why I am going to say just a few tiny things, even though when all is said and done, this will all be locked away in Washington, DC; quite an appropriate place if I dare say so, for seventy five years, and “what makes me think this”, is the law of the land. The blogs will all be gone shortly, so will the stupid no talent songs on the U-Tube, but what will remain will be so that the future can be aware of things that will vindicate my life of terror, and nightmare hellishness; or as my mom used to call it, a life of absolute waste.



All ready on prior blogs, is my story of what happened in a small town in Ohio, called Troy. My dad was born in Toledo, and married my mother, after they met, and courted, while he was involved in a very secret and high profile trial and court proceeding at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyards, back in the early middle twentieth century. The secret told to me by my mother when she thought that I was mature enough to be told about it, was that my dad, her husband, could not take the shame of living in this small town where so many peeps all know your business, and love to gossip and talk; and somehow at the age of (17), that wonderful great number again, seemingly so inescapable, he learned that the father he had always believed was his, was only a step, and that his real father was a dude named Mohr. He grew up as Wayne Martin. He was lied to, and never told by his mom, Clara Block Martin, that she had had him at the age of sixteen, and then dad split, and they never were married, and shortly thereafter, she went onto marry into the Martin family. He was so ashamed and up set, that his entire life was ruined. He joined the Merchant Marines, and this became part of the United States Navy, when the Second World War broke out shortly thereafter his upping into the MM. Common sense tells anyone that this would not be enough to totally wreck and ruin a person's entire life. But it did. He used his Naval authority and powerful friends at the time, to search for hidden Spanish Treasure Galleons off of Florida's Treasure Coast, and used his influence to gain access into special Portuguese off-limits areas in research libraries and other locations, where he was able to piece together, very close positions of numerous sunk galleons from a very long time ago. Then he also was able to use the ships' war equipment for a job that is slang worded as “magging” by treasure salvers, what better apparatus to have under your control than a Naval battleship? But we are not gonna' discuss this in further detail. What will be discussed is that my father met a strange man in his town, who just wandered through; and my mom never lived to know this story. I only 'learned' of it a few weeks ago. Lots of peeps back in 2009 started e-mailing me, and wanted to know if they might be related to me. Knowing the scams and con games, I was quite leery, and answered only a few with careful replies, telling a few short facts as well as where they could all go to check and search out these very same facts for themselves. Many peeps used to telephone me back early in this century while I was in my mobile home, all from Egg Harbor, New Jersey just several miles down the road East of my location, down the WHITE HORSE PIKE, or Route-30. The ODF-HACK got me, but I saw it, and corrected it, HA-HA-HA. I 'learned' of that as well. But back on office files point, if permitted here Uncle Heinz Kingneb, of Babylon, and these peeps wanted to know if I was related to the famous Egg Harbor teacher. I never did any real checking of my father's family line. All I ever knew was that my Aunt Geraldine Snow, the lady that married my mother's brother Stuart, who was named directly after his 24th or somewhere in there grandmother, the Queen of Scotland, was a genealogical expert, and researched her husband's side of the family, the Huntington Line basically, also including Eastman, Mason, and a few others, but she did learn by going through lots of stuff, that my father's real father, was indeed a grandson or something along this line, to the dude who wrote the world famous Christmas song, entitled, “Silent Night”. This has nothing to do with anything right now, and her main interest was tracking her husband's family back, my family, through the many and vast Huntington's, as this line goes all the way back to Governor Samuel Huntington of Connecticut, who died in his 4th term in office, in the year of 1796, and was the 18th Sorian Governor, if I am permitted to throw in a little Daniels-Humor, huh Michele? None of this either, has one thing to do with the topic of the blog of SJ-CH-138 and today, this final thirtieth April day in 'PITSY year #4', or also known as (AKA) 2011. 31 years ago I would be driving to 1802 Robin Hill on this day, to drop off a lamp, and a couple of boxes, lock the door, and then drive down to the recording studio; to pull my 8.5 hour shift of 4:30-1:00, and get back to my new home around half past one in the morning on the first day of May, back in 1980, AKA 'PITSY YEAR #2'. 33 mornings later after the one that I awoke to being my first one ever at Robin Hill, I had my second powerful 'SCYLLA' interaction, on the 4th day of June, where She sang Her very special song to me, the incredible song we all now know or should know, as, “LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS”. She has now sang 3 songs to me, one in 1980, one in 1997, and one in 2011, not totally following the PITSY YEAR schedule system, but then, go figure out the great SARAH-STACEY KRASSLE! Harold Camping will go to his box, trying to put this marvelous super teenager into a box. She cannot be figured out, we all must merely play her incredible game. I am the only person on the planet that's aware of these facts however, and this is why I am able to say something, and then BOOM, it happens. I KNOW HER, better than anyone on Planet Earth does.



Back now to what really upset my father. He found out that his dad's mom's dad's brother was in a Virginia field inspecting his cotton. A very strong and tall and gorgeous long haired slave girl grabbed him, and pushed him into an area of a group of trees and grass, and forced herself on him. He was a frail man, and she ended up having his child. My mom had a book case that was quite elegant with tons of books. Until the move into the Highview Apartments in the middle nineteen eighties, we always managed to move these books as well as this beautiful multi teared shelf, with folding glass drawers, from the middle nineteenth century, handed down to my mom's mom's mom, Sarah Eastman Huntington, wife of the 'dude' as we called him back then, the immortal who left the east to go out to the Bay area of San Francisco, and jumped in front of a speeding trolley car, to escape his eternal physical life. He was ninety-five and had thick long black hair on his head, and appeared as a man of thirty. It was the best kept secret of the medical communities of the area as well as most of the state (ODF) of (HACK) California, and only I am left with the knowledge of this great secret today in 2011. He carried the Huntington Curse. My dad was ever so slightly related to this mixed child, and the entire town of Toledo, Ohio, found this out, and made his life unbearable; so he went to join the MM at age 17, getting his grandmother, the only one he loved in the entire family, to go down and help to get him in, as he was not quite age eighteen. My mom never could understand why he hated his mother, and all of the family so much, and gravitated to her side so much. One day at Highview Apartments, in 1985, I read the one book that was underneath a pile of other books on the lowest shelf, kept wrapped with a strange cover, and had a dairy lock on it. My mom broke the lock a few years back, and told me that I need to read this book someday. In it was a story written by this man, who later fell in love with the slave girl who bore him the man-child. He had written this book of their love in full secrecy, as both of them could have been hung in those days. To this day, I do not know what the law is, and exactly what the fractions are, but I still write the 'CAU' on my forms for race, YO! Still, between many other things, as well as fireworks night, how can I ever rule out 1969, Mister Marcucci; and if it is true, this is the greatest injustice in the history of man in my opinion; but then, that is my opinion, whom the mighty Michelle-D from RPL, is granting, and permitting me; so I was told in 1980, but my opinion, is naturally quite prejudice.



So next time you feel like pulling a stunt like this on me, think twice; as twisters is the least of things that I can counterstrike with my friends and fiends out here, and what I know about, swirls and twirls a lot more dangerously, than any winds can blow, but then; they do call the wind by some pretty fascinating names.









This in all honesty, was randomly selected. What was not randomly selected however, was the Gawnum advice given to me by a dozen or more seriously worded questions, where both the question as well as th answer have private-cosmicoded-numbers, and then I waited for one of the time-answers, to be GAWNUMLY-compatible with the asked question. No matter what else came of this decade, the second one in the 21st century, now I know, and so do all of you, that yeas, the NSA is able to hear and obviously SEE all of us in our showers. Nice pleasant thought to fucking deal with next time you step nakedly into your little mini kingdom and begin to sing your favorite tune all out of tune, or perhaps not!!!!!!!!

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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