PRIVATE
LIFE JOURNAL OF MARK WAYNE MOHR AAAP
IT
IS 33 DEGREES IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA AT 6:55 AM, ON THIS SUNDAY
MORNING, ON THE NINETEENTH DAY IN JANUARY, OF 2014. I
AM NOW BACK TO PRIVATE JOURNALS, and this time, I will not
repeat old mistakes, people are just playing weird games with me, and
I do not have any REAL audience at all, so I will continue writing my
life records, for me, and to myself, and that is all. I
AM NOT GOING TO BE PLAYED ANY LONGER BY ONLINE WEIRDOS. IF
AN OCCASIONAL READER PASSES BY, AND READS SOMETHING; FINE AND DANDY,
AND IF NOBODY EVER READS A WORD, I STILL HAVE AN ONLINE RECORD,
SEPARATE FROM ANYTHING HERE IN MY RESIDENCE IN CASE OF THEFT, FIRE,
ACTS OF SARAH KRASSLE OTHER THAN NORMAL STUFF, ETCETERA. This is not
going to go into kind of details, as later I can expound and
elaborate on all the topics I may decide to bring up for quick
reference now. The first is something that bothered me on a cosmic
scale for long periods of my current lifetime, that happened in
diffeerent years but in true cosmic reality, time is not important at
all, as the entity behind this that the Christian bibles call Jehovah
and other names; is no ordinary person, yet a careful study of these
scriptures mentions the word on more than one occasion, 'person' such
as god in three persons, and there are others, and I remember how
Sarah Jacobson said that she was the strongest PERSON, in the entire
school, and making a very dramatic and emphatic emphasis on the word
PERSON, and this was all told and blogged on many older blogs from
the first two years of this blogging, 2006 and 2007. I have no
problem accepting this powerful super female person goddess, after
all that I have encountered and witnessed in my life, or is there any
problem for me in referring to it, all though quintessentially
superior and ultimate as this entity is; as a person, as both
scripture and the new age science backs a lot of my stuff up that I
was speaking about for over 40 years now, over bugged telephones and
other ways that public access would not be difficult to imagine, and
I speak of what can be heard on the science and history channels on
television, as Ancient Astronaut Theory.
Actually Gene Roddenberry planted this seed in the original Star Trek
shows on numerous episodes way back in the late nineteen sixties.
There
is not going to be a lot of colorful prints and wild fonts and
designs and graphs, and pasted in crap. This is my life journal, and
I do not give a fucking shit who comes up here to read any of this,
OR DOESN'T. This is the loss of humanity, not my loss. When I thought
peeps cared about my wild true fucking tale, I wanted to do a nice
job for them. Now this is a mere private and personal journal kept
safer by having a copy both in my own computer as well as online on
two blog sites. That is all it is. At least it is nice and cool for a
while. It dropped all night long from nine of the clock on, degree
after degree, through the fifties and forties and down to freezing or
one above, just in the past thirty minutes. If on top of my hellish
shit, it was July and 95 feeling 200 with the humidity around here, I
would be MOTHER FUCKING DEAD FOR SURE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
the two times are 1983 and 1997, that have this wild connection.
First, musically, and second, in two powerful incredible vivid
''dreams''. Musically, it pertains to a song that I wrote mid year in
'83, called, ''GIRL, I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING'', and this is a very old
tune in more ways than one. I think the actual compilation project
this song was copyrighted on and titled out of the three titled
projects sent down by me to the US © Office, was ''SAGA OF
SONGWRITER MARK MUD''. Somewhere shortly after the song was written,
numerous things happened to me that nobody in the world would ever
believe. First I had a power drain tap on my telephone line at 134
Norris Avenue in Atco, New Jersey, USA. Later, things happened that I
won't try tackling right now involving wild inventions,
communications with Astral Plane Gods, actual materialization of one
of them in my apartment for ten seconds after leaving Atco for 506
Robin Hill, in Voorhees, New Jersey, a trip down to Orlando Florida
and taking with me an incredible machine invented by a strange friend
of a man who I had originally met at a computer school in the summer
of 1973 in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, named Jim Burr, this friend of
his who I never knew a last name, was first named as I spell its
pronunciation now, Zwonko. The 'W' I believe is actually spelled with
the letter 'V'. This is a Nordic area letter sound thing, as I knew a
Swiss woman, or did when I was age 15 and she was age 21, a student
teacher at my Special Education School, named Venka to pronounce
spell it, and I believe it was spelled, Weinke. Don't quote me. We
could be all day on many of these student teachers, as well as the
inventions of the man named Zwonko. The day he brought that wild turn
table over to my Oaklyn, New Jersey apartment, was a day I will
clearly see in my mind's eye for the next ten thousand years. But
this is not the invention that changed reality. That was my puppy, in
early 1980. The name of that was changed to MAGNESONIC in 1983, but
originally in 1980, was secretly called by me and not a soul knew
about these details, ''KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL''. This led to some
major shifts in reality, with no help from this all powerful Jehovah
(Jupiter) God (ESS). LORDESS or SARAH of the KRASSLE family on the
Astral-Plane, is way beyond intricate, and cannot be grasped if I
wrote a blog the size of a thousand Tolstoy 'War & Peace' novels.
Even I did not know what was happening around me and just how
complicated this machine was. When this junky mess was all put
together and connected into a very expensive part home audio system,
and part amateur recording studio; it took one simple tone in
analogue audio form, 330 hertz, and this could be literally
transformed into anything, and then from there, millions of
anythings; all mixed together. But when I used all of this in a non
musical way and then combined the technique of creating music that
pertained to conversations; a magic reality would create itself
without exception, and I had no explanations for anything, nobody to
talk to or share my findings with, and things got worse from here, as
in no time at all, the powers of the planet Earth began to take
notice of me, and were quite apprehensive about the way I was playing
around with powerful stuff that began responding to my whim and my
will. In one sense I had a wonderful analogue music computer that is
100 times better than anything yet put together so far in 2014, to my
knowledge. But in another sense, I had created around me, a powerful
and totally 'magical something', what I still don't have the absolute
answers to; and this changed my life into something that human words
have no way of ever properly and accurately expressing, at least
anywhere near fully to where folks not in this mess could ever so
much as begin to relate to any of it, or to me. Now this defines the
fourth circle of hell, as well as anything else that my mind can
possibly fathom.
Now
about two powerful ''dreams'' in the early eighties and the late
nineties, that go together, as well as totally connect into all of
this other stuff just talked about. It was late in 1983 or early in
1984 after returning from a trip to Florida, ending me up in three
places, two of them in Florida, and one not all that far from the
great Copyright Office, where a vehicle that was later observed to
contain a young couple late teens or very early twenties at the most,
were occupying in a housing project under construction in Marlton,
New Jersey in the year of 1988 while I resided on Central Avenue in
Moorestown, New Jersey; working a security job, and these people shot
me with some wild strobe-light that nearly caused my heart to stop
beating, and since then, this same death beam has been used a dozen
times, as well as several times previous to this assault on me, at
this place that was to become the housing development known as
Raynard Run. The New Jersey license car tags
began 'ENY',
and I forget the final three digits after these three letters.
This same car with that same plate, was in the nations capitol just
days before Christmas of 1983, and shot at me, only I am not going to
tell the details of how the All Mighty Goddess Jupiter Isis
counter-struck and caused the beam to go back to the car, and it sped
away and crashed somewhere in Washington in a not all that wonderful
neighborhood. I high tailed it back to the train station and took the
ext train to Florida, which originally was my destination, but
circumstances beyond my control, caused me to halite the train to
retrieve my lost machine. This blog needs not know more details.
There were no cellphones in late 1983 to call my chief recording
engineer, Howard Solomon, to let him know I would be delayed by a
couple hours, and when I got to the Orlando station, on top of not
recognizing him without his hair weave, started things off between us
real bad, and he was a hollerer. By this time I was s up set that
that first night at his house, after leaving a grocery store with him
and purchasing a pound of M&M Candies in a glass container, I
dropped the mother fucking thing upon removing myself from his
automobile in his driveway, and the shit went flying and smashing all
over the place, causing him to go into a World War Three total
fucking tirade, cubed, in Earth shaking Cuba, with or without lottery
lies, or Dawn King friends and their father's, from fucking rotten
ass Atlantic City, New Jersey!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now for the two wild ass
dreams, given me by Jehovah, my endless 16 year old love, as she is
always just 16, and it is always her birthday, on the ASTRAL-PLANE,
this never changes, and this is her reality on every single day and
night and second and year that our entire universe and multiverse
contains within them, hence the other great biblical scripture, ''I
am the same yesterday, today, and forever''.
Now
the dream in the eighties was when I had left both Norris Avenue in
Atco, and 506 Robin Hill Apartments, for a place in Cinnaminson, New
Jersey, at 1406 Highland Avenue. Everything I ever sent to the US ©
Office, will match the year of the registration of the work sent
down there, with my addresses where I lived at, and now tell about on
these 8+ years of my blogging ''career'', if anyone would call this
nonsense that, other than a total puke-head moron such as myself. The
dream in this Cinnaminson home in late 1984 was beyond outlandish. I
found myself at the casino in Atlantic City, the Golden Nugget. A
huge lightning storm was all over the area in the dream. Suddenly, a
gorgeous colorful bright and brilliant flash of lightning came right
through the entire hotel and down from the gaming room ceiling and
right down to the table where I was playing at, and it went right
directly through the circle on the roulette layout where the RED-27
was. The entire hole had been burned away, and silence was
interrupted only with whispers of patron voices, and flickering
lights that made those typical sparking short circuit sounds. Then a
voice came out of nowhere and spoke only to me, and no one else
seemed to hear it. It was LIGHTNING, and she said to me, ''Little
boy, that is my number, know this, 3 to the power of 3, 27 is my
special number, now and always''. Then instantly afterward, I awoke
and was laying in my dark room on my bed, in my Cinnaminson house on
highland Avenue. Now years later it was 1997. I had gone to bed early
feeling kind of queasy and just not 100% on my game physically, to
say the very least. I was living in a home in Somerdale, New Jersey,
at 112 Harvard Avenue at the corner of Yale and Harvard Avenues.
Suddenly, I was in a beautiful colorful garden, walking on one side
of a fence, and the Almighty Jupiter Goddess was on the other side,
and she said to me that she was going to destroy the entire world,
shortly after giving me her eviction from this lovely place to go to
Nadia, out beyond this wonderful garden. I told her I accept my
punishment for being jealous of my brother, thinking he and her were
getting it on, when I am to quote her, ''HER THAT-BOY'', and in a fit
of rage and fear of losing my awesome teen goddess, Sarah Jehovah
Krassle, I snuck up behind my own brother and hit him with a fifteen
pound stone, and became the first murderer in her great newest
experiment in this part of hyperspace. I told her I would go into
Nadia and leave, but she said after I am gone seven days, she is
going to destroy the entire world, actually I believe she said she
was going to power down the game from her upline world. I begged her
not to do this with such intense fervor that she actually agreed to
spare the world for a while, and this while has been over 13,000
years now if I am correct in my counting. She added as well, that
there was a reason that she would do this for me, it was conditional.
She said and I quote her exactly, ''THAT BOY, because you loved
Diana, I'll spare the world for a while longer''. She has of course,
but if I'd not begged her to do this; this entire thing that all of
you think you are living and doing; would never even be here for you.
She put Diana and my loving her is a PAST TENSE, and this bothered me
from 1997 all the way until my time here in Florida, when I suddenly
realized just what is really going on with this goddess MIDDIE, or
MDE, Mother/Daughter/Electron, SSJKK,
ALMIGHTY. It all made sense after about the time I had the
interaction where I got all dressed up and met her at some bleachers
in her newest persona, humanly, and she sang some wild new song to me
that was beyond freaking awesome. This was the middle later part of
the year of 2012. This was the last major interaction I have been
given by the Almighty MIDDIE. But in her human personality, she
somehow accessed my music projects and heard her own voice on several
occasions, at around age three, and around age fourteen. On the spot
where she would have humanly been age 3, I repeatedly told her how
much I loved her in her ELECTRON PERSON of her three-person
Goddess-hood. It is on a cassette tape to this very day, down on my
Epitome of Harassment copyrighted tapes from late in the
nineteen-eighties. After I tell her how much I love her several
times, she responds with her beyond adorable voice at the age of
three, and says to me, ''I KNOW''. This to this day is in the Library
of Congress. No nation wants time travelers or manipulators of STM
that appear to be an ability to travel on the fourth dimension,
roaming around as ordinary uncontrolled citizens, with agendas all
their own and not under orders and control of governing forces. Any
and all Bluebook Project fans know this way better than anything I
could ever hope to preach on and on, regarding that topic and
subject.
It
was not long at all before I started to piece just about all of the
final missing jig saw pieces neatly together, and this all followed
the last real big interaction, as I said, where it started in
Atlantic City in the past, and ended up with me putting my best
clothes on, and meeting her in her person of
right now, at some bleachers somewhere, the gods only know
where. I am not making up any of this, and would have no reason to
write crazy sounding shit that makes me look like a fool and a
fucking lunatic neatly packaged together, and tripled. It would make
no sense to wipe out my credibility with the world, as everyone is
just going to call me a crazy nut case who needs to be safely locked
away in a fucking psych ward.
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This
compensates for page eleven of eleven, and seeing four mother fucking
ones from Jane Diseaseweedsleaze.
No
one has gone up to read my blogs since Friday except maybe for a
handful in 48 hours or more, so if no one wants to know all this
incredible stuff, that is their fucking loss, not mine. I will no
longer write to please the crowd, not when the crowd has all left me
high and dry. Hay, I cannot make peeps be interested in the story of
the fucking millennium, but if they are not, then there is no use
writing twice as many blogs, and working hard to make them appear
more eye pleasing and filled with colors and pictures, and
information and much more. I am nobody's fool. For over a year, since
this particular blog began late in 2011, I had built up to around
close to 130 page-hits daily. That is not any big blog by any
stretch, but I was living with it. For the past half year or more
however, 40-80 percent of my numbers have all gone away, and when
things got more interesting than ever. This can only lead any logical
thinking rational mind to the conclusion that everyone is an enemy or
agent anyway, when I even ask for a little plug help and never got
any and just got the reverse, an ever decreasing readership. So I'll
not be fooled again no matter what anyone does do or does not do.
When I want to post, I will post, and it will be bland and gray
except for a highlight here and there on an important part of the
text. I was not asking for 2000 hits a day, or 5000, or even 500, but
to go from 130 down to half or more, well, if they don't care about
the wildest life on this Earth, mine; then I won't care, and merely
will make this my private journal, and this is now a finality, and I
will not change back if I see 5,000 hits in the next two weeks. A few
have told me they are interested in my story and want to know more,
and if I do not feel this interest is genuine and that this is just
some twisted game, then why would I want to be a pawn and a fool in
anyone's little game? I have a real life to live, and to blog, and
have no time for games, sorry people.
Mike
Patterson might be coming back to Fort Pierce and leaving Miami
behind. Things did not work out at all for him, but the plot thickens
huge ultra monster time with him, and how this connects both into me
in general, as well as how it connected into my week last week an
with my own major problems, timed to the atomic tick of precision. I
do not buy coincidences, and I never ever will, as anyone who has
indeed read my words and blogs, knows about me. I just simply cannot
afford the luxury of believing naively in these so-called mother
fucking coincidences, very sorry if my paranoia annoys or offends
anyone, but it is my paranoia, and I'm stuck the fuck with it,
peeps!!!!!!!!!!!! As for Mike and his returning possibly back to Fort
Pierce, and any plans we may have, this is private and I do not trust
anyone anywhere, and have learned when to keep my big ass mouth
tightly fucking shut, for my own dam ass good!!!
My
focus of attention since middle 2008 is on the great Jupiter Goddess.
I am going to do all that is within my power now and in the times to
come, to move along in my life, and escape this entity once and for
all. A child of moron level IQ can see with blinders strapped on,
that she means me not one bit of good. I only wish her the very best.
But I am very scared of an almighty being who seems to hate me and
insists on these endless games with me in eternity, as well as down
here in these dreams off of the spirit worlds, called waking life.
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