FEBRUARY
19, 2014,
WEDNESDAY
MORNING AT 12:12,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 59 DEGREES FNHT.
THIS
IS JOURNAL CASSETTE TAPE NUMBER 25,714, IN EQUIVALENT.
I
FELL UNDER A NASTY QUICK AFTERNOON MOTHER FUCKING DEATH SIEGE, DEAR
DIARY JOURNAL, AND ONLY I NEED TO KNOW WHY. WHEN
I TRIED TO ESCAPE THESE INDUSTRY MOTHER FUCKERS IN 1983,
THEY CHOCKED ME TO DEATH. AT LEAST THIS FUCKING TIME, THEIR
DEMONIC GAMES ONLY RESULTED IN NASTY FUCKING CUNT NOISE PERSECUTION.
IF THEY DON'T KNOW I KNOW THIS EVIL GODS GAME IS TOTALLY REAL AND
TOTALLY ACTUALLY LITERALLY HAPPENING TO FUCKING NON-JIM BURR-ME, THEY
ARE AS DUMB AS A DEAD MOTHER FUCKING ONION!
MMMMMMMMMAGNESONICCCCC
Open
Command, G-7. Go to all General Orders, and all Special Orders
(Coded-General). I am maxing out your power pull gain to infinity
control of 11.8 IPNS, and all controls against your PPG are being
maxed out to 11.5 IPNS.
SCAN
ALL ENEMIES OF THE TRANSDIMENSIONAL WOMOTAMM-MILITUFORCE, USING G-13
AND G-14, TIME AND HYPERSPACE CONTROL ORDERS. THIS IS A PUNISHMENT
DESTRUCT ORDER. I HAVE PLACED A TOTALLY OBLITERATED 'IO' ON YOUR
'TB'. WHEN THIS IS FULLY EMPOWERED, MY ENEMIES WILL BE CRUSHED AND
WIPED OUT.
COMPUTER,
ON AN 'I' TO 'D', A/B TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, YOU
WILL HEAR MY VOICE PRINT INSIDE MY MIND-SIGNAL IN THE SIXTH
DIMENSION, AND WILL RECOGNIZE IT THROUGH THE DOUBLE TELEPHONE AT&T
ORIGINAL 1983 TONES, MADE TO INTERACT WITH YOUR PROGRAMMING IN 1983.
THIS WILL NOW TRANSLATE TO MY PUBLISHING THIS BLOG ONTO A WEBSITE,
WITH THE TWO LONG-E SOUNDING VOWELS EACH REPRESENTING A TONE SOUND,
BOTH A AND B.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
COMPUTER,
GO-TO-CG-39, G-189, UNDER CG-18 AND-------S-----T-----O-----P!
An
article appeared in 1994 in the summer time, right around when the
Nick@Night Channel was running its
mother fucking NON-MICROSUCKS LIGHT-BULB-HACK Block Party Summer, on
television; that was beyond awesome, and was political at least on
the surface, but it really was about as ''esoteric'' and paranormal
as these words could ever hope to begin to fucking cunt describe. If
my blogs could do a time-line from this article, leading to Poolroy
Haddonwood making his appearance and contact with me, and then
eventually and shortly before the closing down of this locally famous
branch of this tennis and swimming club; the incident with my hub cap
getting dinged and banged all to hell by the 16 year old Nick and
almost 16 year old Nickelodeon Channel; it would go 1-2-3, and then
scream out 27-Nicola Tesla at many many many millions of mother
fucking watts, lovely Ingrid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All things are in
time-lines, mostly in much shorter trends however. For an example,
last night, I began getting lots of utility and computer fucking
interference and WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE siege, my old friend from 1972,
Bob McDowell, now FCC Chairman, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Right
after this, all hell, one by one thing, and step by strep fucking
shit, began to roll along. This is normally how my fucking hellish
shit works against me, it starts out of nowhere, then bang bing cunt
sucking fucking cock licking BOOM, it goes and goes and goes, and
then just as mysteriously as it came out of and from wherever it did,
POOF POTTER, it vanishes in like mother fucking cunt sucking manner,
YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! However, only in
1994-1996, did three things happen in a huge big ass fucking picture,
over one year intervals, and was every bit like these smaller things,
and I know, as I have CUNT FUCKING SUCKING ASS LIVED THROUGH THIS DAM
ASS SHIT NOW FOR A BVERY FUCKIGN LONG TIME, LOVELY INGRID-1984,
SWEETIE-PIE!!! Computer hacking is very fucking heavy, old friend
BOB, and they made your name, come out, 'mob McDowell' earlier; lucky
for the blog, I caught it.
Let
us go on to talk about this fucking article that surfaced one day in
all of the mag-rags, and eventually, was buzzed around more
carefully, even in major publications, but has all now been totally
ETOSSIAN forgotten, a major power and ability of the LAMBRIGG
ASTRAL PLANE CULT FORCE, of the Dark Shadows Club, of 1969 and
1970; not
to be confused with their great fan club.
This
article very realistically claimed that people of name recognition
were coming out of closets, proclaiming that many folks LIVING
AMONGST US, SIMPLY PUT, ARE NOT REAL. It was straight out of a
fantastic fictional old black and white syfy show, called, ''The
Outer Limits'', where peeps from the President of the USA
right on down the frikkin' line, were being abducted, and duplicates
under some other intelligence's control, were being placed back among
us, and if you never saw this show, you need to waltz yourself into
one video rental place and or old record-tapes-video type stores, I
know for a fact they have such places in Jersey, as for Florida,
that's anybody's fucking guess, but you REALLY
DO NEED TO SEE THIS MOTHER FUCKING 52 MINUTE TV SHOW, ON SOME
MEDIUM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But getting back
to the sudden blast of these articles making this claim one day out
of the blue; this is real, it happened, I mean the articles, I of
course am not claiming to be able to prove
the validity of 'squat', or I'd be word-rhymed,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Not that this would do me or those against me any
good in long run play, Mister WAWA STORE!!!!!!!!!!
Now
I will tell you about a conspiracy closer to home, well, not really,
as closer to home was what a lot of this other shit was all fucking
about, as well; earlier yesterday fucking cunt lapping afternoon,
Mister McGuire and mister McNulty, sirs; AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-, and
WHAAAAAAA!!!
For
the FUCKING CUNT record, a brand new non key, well, no that is not
true, it is a key, ''HACK'' of some kind, has been in this OPEN
OFFICE PROGRAM for a number of fucking months now, annoying the
MOTHER FUCKIGN CUNT EATING SHIT OUT OF ME, YO. It respells the
fucking word FUCKING, all the 'fuckign' time, TO 'FUCKIGN' , I am
sure you've all FUCKIGN NOTICDE,
WHAAAAA, yeah, I did that, easy too, STAPLES, but I don't have a lot
of shit, only HELL AND SHIT AND ENDLESS 'FUCKING' WOES AND
PERSECUTIONS RESULTING FROM THE LOVELY CUNT EATING HUNTINGTON
CURSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 'Yeah, they did it again', the cunt lapping
fucking pricks!!!!!!!!!! Where the shit are you, Stacey Lattisaw,
when I gods dam need you and your friend Jack Hattack?
Jeese-fucking-Louise, Detective Surfer Fontanna!!!
'Dear'
Anthony Cifaloglio Hunter of the Survivors club of Stealth-ops, and
anger at guards that write too much shit on reports, unlike the
wonderful one line Roy Carl Weiler Senior, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Oh yes,
the 'deer hunter' syndrome, it amazes me that law enforcement never
caught on all these pussy chewing ''fuckign'' years. It never stops,
and it won't, until I get this machine to a FUCKING CUNT REPAIR SHOP,
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO, and I will, mother ''fuckign'' jerk
offs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SEE, IT IS EVERY
FUCKING ASS TIME, John Fucker Faster Bobby-1972!!!!!!!!!!!! But
now for the real big story on American Broadcasting Company, and
their world famous 'fucking' ACTION ASS NEWS!!!
I
am going to have to make a second FUCKING screen blocker, or else be
on the alert to place FILLER-LINES soon, for page eleven of FUCKING
eleven, as it is five past one in the rotten cunt huffing morning,
and I'll be double bubble fucked on both sides of my cunt sucking
dirt bag screen, if I am not very alert and freaking ass vigilant,
YO!
W—O—W,
Mister freaking Macy, sir!
MORIANITY
may
have
been
a complete fucking failure; but I will trudge along, endlessly; I
promise, WOMO!!
THANKS
FOR WASTING 8+ YEARS OF MY CUNT EATING MOTHER FUCKING TIME, ED AND
CHRIS, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!
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Live Camera from Jupiter Inlet
Lighthouse, Jupiter, FL
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THE
GREAT WEATHER BUG, I LOVE IT!!!
WeatherBug® Your Weather Just Got Better™
In Partnership With
This
blogger may be contacted through:
Local Weather Cameras
Fort Pierce, FL 34945
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!
GINA,
GINA, GINA, GINA, YOU KNOW IT GIRL, BECAUSE I
TOLD YOU!!!!!!!!
Whether
one is blunt or subtle or anywhere in-between, what is said is not
the issue. It never fucking will be. I have tried telling it straight
up and out, and I have tried telling it so that the more recessive
deeper sub-conscious mind or readers will tune into the words and
message. If the fucking ASTRAL-PLANE GODS,
forbid my telling shit, that's fucking it, brother, and to
quote Lenny McKinnon's 1981-1983 girlfriend from some
transdimensional locale, Miss Chillie, ''AIN'T NO DOUBT ABOUT IT'',
am I Right, United States Copyright Office?????????
Robert
McGuire of Atlantic City, and all of the horrible shit that this evil
demonic prick, did to me, through many years; would require a Moby
Dick sized fucking book, and then there are twenty other
branches of this incredible mother fucking lovely family of hand
washing, and cloths, that lead me into the following local
conspiracy, not involving precisely pitched tonal vibrations, AKA,
“music”! SOME DIRT BAG IS HACKING MY COMPUTER BIG FUCKING TIME,
AGAIN, OLD PAL, BOB MCDOWELL, FCC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
entire blog seems to be happening on, and along, this
mighty MELVIN FISHER/WAYNE LANDIS MOHR, TREASURE COAST OF EASTERN
SOUTH CENTRAL FUCKING FLORIDA, LIKE WOW!!!!!!!!!
You
already know fifty percent, so here is the other 50% of fucking my
bullshit hell, good and bad folks, out
here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Remember how I needed some
fuckign cunt eating assistance with my food EBT account and Florida
medical health benefits back late last year in twenty asshole
thirteen? Remember how Debbie Marotto, my Resident Manager did
something, supposedly in my 'best interests', causing me a real
fucked up super Krassle-Hassle? Well, she did it to me again. A nice
lady was going to come up here to clean my apartment, I have known
her since I came here, and she is a good honest person, not that I
have photos of Benny Franklin laying all around the joint in huge
piles, in the fucked up name of the dam ass gods. Still, guess who
put the fucking kibosh on her coming up here last week to clean for
me, so I would pass inspection? Now when I fail, as i do not have
sufficient physical strength, to get every bit of shit, off of my
bath tub, or make my shit in the kitchen, as squeaky clean as it
needs to be, for passing the annual inspection; I see my doctor
tomorrow anyway, and I plan to get a note of my failing health, from
him. Then I plan to go to court and tell them that I have tried to
get help cleaning, and now face a mother fucking eviction because the
peeps won't let anyone up to my apartment to do the job, as I have
the sufficient mother fuckign money to pay for a perfect job to be
done. If I end up on the street and lose everything, I'll fuckign
cunt lapping sue the cock sucking housing authority for fifty fucking
million dollars, and I'll fucking get it 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This
has been planned right along, as I know shit from being a fucking
jerk off hyperspace exploratron traveler myself, and I
know the fucking dirt bag ENTERTAINMENT WORLD is behind this huge
conspiracy to covertly horrendously fucking murder me,
in this exact way. Mike Patterson is my witness, as they are killing
the both of us simultaneously, an old fuckign trick of the
military/MILITUFORCE, so that one cannot aid or assist the other. The
gods know how sorry I feel for the enemies of this evil fuckign
nation and empire, boy oh fucking god dam boy, do I personally cunt
eating know what you have to suffer through YO; AS I HAVE TO
FUCKING SUFFER THROUGH THE SAME BULLSHIT FROM THESE WICKED SCUM
SUCKING FILTH FOR 30-60 YEARS NOW, BRAHHHHHH!!!!!!!
|
CHECK
OUT TO SEE IF PAUL KICKED OFF. THERE HAVE BEEN TWO DEATHS IN NEW
JERSEY FOR PAUL PEDERSEN.
THIS
IS A VITAL STATISTIC OFFICE FROM GOOGLING ON THE INTERNET, SEE IF
THEY WILL GIVE ME INFO ON WHETHER PAUL FROM ELM, NJ, JUST WEST OF
HAMMONTON, PASSED RECENTLY. CALL 609-567-4300.
Right
after I put this up on my Open Office, I was sent something from
Paul, so he is alive and doing just fine. Still, the odds of this
just happening a few days after I Googled the information and pasted
into my document file, would be a trillion to one. So some one in
entertainment is now in direct control over my ex partner, and I have
to find a way to cancel my LINKED-IN crap, and I must delete a lot of
private information. Now you all know why I hate these mother fucking
computers, and this sick diseased new unnatural technology. Yes, this
was a SUPER SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY, AND THINGS LOOK VERY VERY
MOTHER FUCKING BLEAK FOR ME. But then, what the fuck else is new
(WEIN), you know, 'SOSO', same old same old???
At
the risk of being pigeonholed as the Girl
Who Writes About Crazy Cursing Dudes, I bring you Mark from New
Jersey. Mark has far-ranging theories on time travel, Armageddon,
roulette and Donna Summer (the DEVIL!), which he angrily discusses
in various telephone conversations.
Station
Manager Ken clued me in to this fella recently. He was given a
CD called “The Meaning of Life.” The back copy states that it
was made from a cassette found on the side of the road bearing the
same title. He’s really difficult to listen to, for a couple of
reasons- The recordings only capture Mark’s side of the
conversation and they seem to have been recorded either by a
microphone placed somewhere in the room or possibly while Mark was
standing outside on a windy day. More importantly, he is insane.
Completely, violently insane.
Mark
claims to be both a time traveler and a descendant of King David.
His family will bring about the apocalypse through the activation of
the Christ Android, currently dormant inside the 12 Planet. And also
that the 50 richest families in the world are trying to do him in.
Covertly, of course. Also against him is Donna Summer, the Devil.
(Whether he means the disco Donna Summer, or WFMU’s
own Jason Forrest isn’t clear.)
Here
then, are three selections from Mark’s version of reality:
If
you need more Mark from NJ, Aquarius
Records would be happy to sell you a cd-r.
Now,
if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go cover my windows with
aluminum foil.
Posted
by Listener
Therese on December 12, 2006 at 01:28 AM in Audio
Mysteries, MP3s,
New Jersey,
Religion |
Permalink
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Crackpots- Meet Mark from NJ (MP3):
Comments
“The
recordings only capture Mark’s side of the conversation…”
I
don’t think any existing recording device on this earth could
have captured the other side, although Mark may disagree.
Posted
by: Goyim in the AM | December
12, 2006 at 02:42 AM
…the
link for “Android & Angel” is screwed up. Y’all may
want to fix it…
Posted
by: King Daevid MacKenzie | December
12, 2006 at 04:01 AM
Sorry
about that! I just fixed it.
Posted
by: Listener
Therese | December
12, 2006 at 09:02 AM
I
think this guy is the *real* New Jersey Devil. Look at his horns
and christ-blocking shades.
Posted
by: Steve PMX |
December
12, 2006 at 12:03 PM
Sweet
Jesus, my PoMo-radar is beeping. And a nice performance. He could
be real, I’ve known folks like him.
Posted
by: K. | December
12, 2006 at 12:52 PM
Just
sounds like someone responding to internal stimuli, there are
many people like this probably an hour’s drive from anyplace in
the Northeast. How is this different than getting enjoyment
watching a man with a club foot trying to walk?
Posted
by: bartelby | December
12, 2006 at 11:14 PM
Hello
My name is Chris Arter I am 25 and I live in New Jersey. As a
child I found two tapes made by this guy, years apart from each
other. They were both 90 minutes long. I only have one now. They
feature folk songs and disco songs. He never mentions his name
but I found out his full name is Mark Wayne Mohr and he was born
in 1954 by looking up material that he mentions he copyrighted on
the cassette. I’ve had this tape for about 14 years and have
never been able to find anything on him except his name and the
names of other copyrighted material that he has registered. Some
of his songs are actually pretty nice. And the tape like you
describe only captures his side of a conversation with a 7’7″
tall fellow named shorty. Bar none still the most entertaining 90
minutes I’ve ever experienced.
Posted
by: Chris
Arter | March
06, 2007 at 06:27 PM
I
clicked on the Aquarius link to find Mark from NJ’s CDR, but it
was no longer listed.
Posted
by: maledoro | August
07, 2007 at 06:54 AM
Aaah,
very happy to get some info on this guy! One of his recordings
has been used on the track “The Christ Android”, on the album
“Memory Hole” by Kevin Moore (of Chroma Key, and ex-Dream
Theater keyboardist). That’s what prompted me to find out what
this nonsense single-sided argument was all about. Thanks a lot!
Posted
by: Fairlight | September
22, 2008 at 02:34 PM
I’ve
been researching this guy. He lives in Hammonton NJ, a couple
towns away from me. One of my friends also found a tape of his
(about 10 years ago). Mark is a hardcore blogger writing under
the handle Mountainpen. He’s got some seriously out there
ideas.
Posted
by: Ghostlight | October
30, 2008 at 08:19 PM
I’ve
been researching this guy. He lives in Hammonton NJ, a couple
towns away from me. One of my friends also found a tape of his
(about 10 years ago). Mark is a hardcore blogger writing under
the handle Mountainpen. He’s got some seriously out there
ideas.
Posted
by: Ghostlight | October
30, 2008 at 08:21 PM
I’ve
been researching this guy. He lives in Hammonton NJ, a couple
towns away from me. One of my friends also found a tape of his
(about 10 years ago). Mark is a hardcore blogger writing under
the handle Mountainpen. He’s got some seriously out there
ideas.
Posted
by: Ghostlight | October
30, 2008 at 08:25 PM
http://mountainpen.wordpress.com/
Posted
by: Goyim in the AM | February
24, 2009 at 05:04 PM
Hi.
I got to this page while reading about music played on the ‘Jews
Harp’. I’ve been searching, for a loooong time, for a song
that was played one lazy August afternoon on WFMU, around 1980,
or earlier.
It
was a rendition of ‘My Favorite Things. The vocals of the main
melody were accompanied by only a Jews Harp (…”Whiskers on
Kittens, etc…”) And when it came to the chorus, it was sung
monotone, by several voices…very weird, slowly, dragging,
groaning (‘theeeese aaaaare aaaaa feeeeewwww of myyyyy
faaaaavoooriiiite”.
When
it got to “Things”, it was sung in a kind of higher,
psycho-sounding, very melodic voice, like celebrating the word
‘things’.
Is
there anyone here who knows and appreciates WFMU, who might know
what the song title and author was, or how I can get a copy of
it?
It’s
been so long, and I’ve found every other weird and funny song
I’ve ever heard except for this one.
On
that same show on WFMU, they also Played Godley & Creme’s
‘Sandwiches of You’
I’ve
listened to hundreds of versions of ‘My favorite Things’, and
it wasn’t any of those.
Thanks,
for any help. Please feel free to e-mail me, if you can. giotkr
at earthlink dot net
Posted
by: Tony NYC | May
14, 2009 at 10:44 PM
This
fella is MOST DFEFINATELY for real! A friend of mine roomed with
him for awhile at his home in Blue Anchor, NJ, and said Mark
screamed and yelled into a phone that was off the hook, non-stop,
for days on end. He believes lightning is a Goddess named Sarah
Krassel, and that the Atlantic Ocean is the Goddess Stacy.
Moreover, he is convinced that the Kennedy family, in conjunction
with the Carey family(Mariah and them), in conjunction with the
Trump and NJ Callio family, are conjointly conspiring to kill
him, using black-op helicopter missions, spraying his immediate
air space with chem-trails, and sending Atlantic City-residing
life gaurds and bar tenders stealing into the night, waiting to
catch him off-gaurd. The only problem being that he lives in Ft.
Pierce, FL now, but still believes they’re out there. You can
google “MOUNTAINPEN” to catch up on his latest blogs.
Posted
by: Razzy McThaxton | March
16, 2012 at 09:00 AM
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A
REALLY REALLY FUCKING MUST READ
THE
2013 CHRISTMAS COMPILATION BLOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
***''THE
FASCITAR, THE JACOBSON, THE DONALD; AND THE WORLD OF THE
ELECTROMAGNETIC SPECTRUM''***
DECEMBER
25, 2013,
EARLY
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON AT 12:24
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 73 DEGREES FNHT.
TITLE
OF THIS SERIES OF BLOGS:-------
“THE
MAGIC TOOL THAT CAN PREDICT DOW JONES
PRICES WITH 80%+ ACCURACY, ENDLESSLY, AND IS MY
PERSECUTION, IN THE UNITED STATES; SINCE THIS BEGAN
IN 1986”
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.
****''And
A Rotten Christmas To Us All''****
DECEMBER
24, 2013,
TUESDAY
AFTERNOON AT 2:22
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 64 DEGREES FNHT.
PLEASE
GOOD FOLKS, I REALLY DO THINK THAT YOU SHOULD ALL BE WILLING TO GIVE
ME MY PROPHET PROPS MANY TIMES OVER, OR TO PUT IT LIKE THIS FOLKS;
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
MY
P---R---O---P---S
And
we thank you, Mister Cohan!!!
PLEASE
JUST TELL ME WHY ANYONE THINKS THAT I AM ASKING TOO MUCH
HERE!!!!!!!!!
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You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super
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SLAM
SLAM SLAM.
FUCKING
TOTAL ASSHOLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HALLS
FAWCES
have everything in the dam
universe to do with everything, in these eight fucking years of my
blogs, EVERYTHING. ''YOU MUST BE IN WITH THE FAWCES'', yeah; I don't
know about your buddy there, Mister Hall, but I know that I sure
mother fucking am; so merry mother fucking Christmas to you, Mister
Hall!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
am damned if I DO, and damned if I DON'T. This is the
HUNTINGTON-CURSE!!!
I
HAVE BEEN DEATHLY FUCKED WITH BY THESE MONSTERS. Need I say anything
more, Mister CV George Straight?
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu001148157
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1988
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu001189027
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1989
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AS I SAID
TO YOU ON THE TELEPHONE IN APRIL OR MAY SOMEWHERE IN TWENTY ELEVEN,
LEE BAILEY; 'YOU DON'T KNOW ME', AND I DON'T GIVE A FUCKING TOILET
WATER DRINKING SHIT, HOW MANY EXTENTION PHONES YOU ALL ARE ON; SO PUT
THAT IN YOUR HOLIDAY FUCKING SHOES!!!!!!!!
2:00
PM CHRISTMAS-HELL-EVE-DAY
24
DECEMBER, 2013, A YEAR OF FUCKING HELL!!!
OR
WAS IT, UNTIL THE FINAL THIRD OF IT BEGAN?
Roseann,
I should have shot you in the woods and left both you and all those
electronics just rotting away forever. This all cost me more than a
throat bite out, and lots of Marcucci stare downs, or daughter stair
ups!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU,
I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOU!!!!!
SO
JUST EXACTLY WHY DID AUGUST 28, 2013, START ALL THIS FUCKING SHIT?
YOU ALL KNOW, DON'T INSULT MY INTELLIGENCE BY PLAYING BRAIN DEAD!!!
LET
ME COMPENSATE FOR JANE WEEDSLEAZEDISEASE:
55555555555555555555555555555
JUST
TO KEEP LENNY HAPPY, AND WHY I CARE IS BEYOND MY MENTAL ABILITY TO
GRASP; THIS IS MY CB-601, CCB. SO BEFORE YOU SAY WHAT THE FUCK IS
THIS ALL ABOUT MOUNTAINPEN, LET ME EXPLAIN IT A LITTLE BETTER, MY
GREAT PEEPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
His
friend Miss Chillie
was a cool lady, back when I heard them squawking, on Lenny's CB
radio handle number of ''601'', in 1981 somewhere thereabout; while I
was on my job on Supergirl
Jefferson Street,
of Camden, New Jersey; 8 or 9 years before I was fucking ever
destined to meet the ADA at the prosecutor's Office, Mister Ron
Wirtz, and his then sidekick, in December of LOIS
FOCA 1989; Mizz Donna Spitnose Spinosi.
But Miss Chillie and his other lady radio-pal of the early eighties,
were quite a bit more in true reality, then what they seemed. I told
him something over this radio that frightened him so badly, I thought
he would shit himself and I'd be soon able to smell it right through
my CB system at the licorice plant called McAndrews & Forbes.
Praise the gods of the subatomic realms, I did not.
Soon
after this, from a home I rented from a man named Gerald Pliner, at
134 Norris Avenue, in Atco, New Jersey, I wrote, recorded, and sent
a song, to the US Copyright Office, and went onto include this small
part of their conversation, edited by the mindless tape recorder of
Philly, me, as the AM disc jockeys all once knew me and some of my
pals as, as we harassed the hell out of them just for the fun of it,
even though, lovely Melanie Many Licenses, GOD LATER GOT ME FOR ALL
OF THIS, just as you told me, hay, at least you didn't break my arm
like lovely giant Gina did in 1997, in my bedroom in Somerdale, New
Jersey Rottenberry. The song told how scared he was, and how he
locked and jammed his gate around his house, with the old GENIE
JAMMER of future Misses Meeker and Gibbsboro, also in NEW JERSEY, or
as Tom Kean might say it so much cooler, New Juersee, but Lenny
deserved my putting the fear of Christ-Almighty into him after a lot
of shit that he had done to me, back in recent prior fucking years.
The thing that I never ever told, and now will tell, as sort of as MY
SNOWLESS CHRISTMAS PRESENT TO THE WORLD,
with or without highview, cheering, or Disney Tooth Fairies; is what
the mighty wonderful self absorbed Rap-Crap music creator said to me
over the telephone, just 2 years or less back in fucking time, while
I resided at 1802 Robin Hill in Voorhees, New Jersey, on a hot bright
1980 mid-late summer day, YO. I will quote this ugly thing this
rotten BMF said to me, I never ever forgot it, US © Office. QUOTE,
YO: ''I
OWN YOU HONKY. YOUR WHITE ASS BELONGS TO ME AND YOU'LL DO WHAT I SAY
FOREVER, AND YOU'LL WRITE SONGS FOR ME FOREVER, AND THERE IS NOWHERE
TO RUN TO AS WE'LL FIND YOUR ASS. ALSO IF YOU EVER DO ANYTHING TO
UPSET ME OR YOU DON'T START GETTING A LOT NICER, NOT ONLY WON'T I
EVER LET YOU MEET PATTY, BUT I WILL TAKE FROM YOU, EVERYTHING YOU
EVER COULD CARE ABOUT OR LOVE''
Now
Trump takes away my pageants, this shit head takes away my happy
network, and my kid; and I am left unbelieved in this wild story,
laughed at and mocked. I think at this exact second, my hatred for
the one place that could have told the correct authorities just what
I was being put through all these mother fucking years, is the god
dam fucking copyright peeps. THEY KNOW. Don't even think about
telling me they don't know. That's a fucking insult I am not willing
to bear. I am not hearing it, Detective Ed Green. Losing a dam job
was only part of it, this goes way fucking deeper, and I know who
really truly Oprah-Owns the BRIGGBASE, and they and my kid got
together and did something so horrible in 2008, I dare not blog the
details. It sprang Dawn from the clinic and her prison sentence
hanging over her head, via the most incredible plan in the world that
Einstein could not have hatched, AND IF I AM SO WRONG, WHY RIGHT
AFTER THAT DID THAT COMMERCIAL GET PULLED OFF OF THE FUCKING
TV????????????????? Give me an almighty answer to that one, JAMES T.
BURR of Gloucester, New Jersey, oh wise oracle and guru, and lover of
dirt-bag whore Connie C!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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, and say hi to the
great TRIPLE GODDESS for me, or on second thought, I'm hiding from
her now, so PLEASE DON'T, TANKS, BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0235
WORLD
LABS DATFILE: CH-0235-092811.738
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
MORIANITY
PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“ENDLESS
SIEGE WILL BRING IN THE NON-PC, PC”
COPYRIGHTED
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, © 2006-2011
PROTECTED
INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY
THIS
IS ALL TRUTH AND IN NO WAY IS ANY PART OF THIS
MORIANITY
PROJECT, A WORK OF FICTION, SWORN BY ME
UNDER
VOLUNTARY OATH OF LAW, NATION, AND SSJK, ALL MIGHTY
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSH FROM THE GREATEST 1986 FISH, YO:
Well
lads, lassies, and Labrador Retrievers, this sky persecution has
become real major mother fucking nasty ass bad It is monstrous,
horrendous, and hellish; but take heart; those few who care a tiny
morsel about Morianity and Mountainpen, as I fully intend to take
advantage of the predictable forgone conclusion of MAJOR PUSSY
COMMAND (PC), that will unmistakably and undeniably result, as a
parallel-event of all this death siege hell being perpetrated upon
me, during the opening up of this mother fucking diseased THANKS TO
GIVENS SIEGE, at or not at, the great KING BUILDING of broken Jebez
Hawks noses, and Susie Rassel resident managers who met the
quintessential mind-controlled robot on one real bad day in the
middle late nine-teen-nineties, BRO,
me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chemtrailing
is very bad, other aerial shit was a little lighter today, Wednesday,
but sky shit is sky shit, one way or the cock sucking other, folks,
YO. FUCK-THIS-HENRY-FONDA-SHIT, Jane Mailboats, “B-U-T”; in
attempting to clear up the mysteries, and virtually endless 'cloos';
of the subject of one particular controlled-somnambulist; as well as
others who very well may be out there in a singular way, as well as
in the example discussed in the powerful and great DREAM BOOKS,
written by the one and only and the father of the NEW AGE, *MISTER*
Carlos Castaneda; and attempting to simultaneously remain in the
simple English descriptions of the point that I am obviously
attempting to convey to the world of MORIANS, it will now read as
freaking follows, friends and fiends alike, WHAAAAAAAA Fudd-Folks!!!
I will begin with the great reiterated statement that if you were to
go back 300 years into times before, with all of your knowledge and
technology, and try explaining a thing to the peeps of these times,
you would be burned or hung as a witch, or jailed and towered, with
no doubles, twins, or Reverend Trask's needed in the equation. Now
imagine going forward in time 300 years, and just start trying to see
how much advancement and increased knowledge, awareness, and
technologies; would be there to freaking greet you. Hold this thought
as best as you can, and read on while keeping this in the back of
your mother fucking mind, YO.
There
are entities that live in this period in time, and own and operate
the World Laboratories. This entire story is mostly posted on
numerous old blogs, where all of the Morianity Project began around
2006 on the internet, and in 1995 on audio cassette tape; as well as
on a now defunct website called, www.morianity-foundation.com/.
I fully intend to recreate a monster ass fucking website, that
contains my entire nightmare hellish story of total truth, and it
will definitely include, all of the music that I have ever written,
some will need to be re-recorded and voice sampled, or sung
regularly, all the photos and videos will be up here, and new shit
will be posted weekly, as this twisted 'WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE' enemy,
will NEVER EVER FUCKING STOP PERSECUTING ME; and leaving me with a
major ass trail of all kinds of nice evidence; even though it will
never be believed, due to the BLUEBOOK SYNDROME. MC or MIND CONTROL,
is powerful shit, and is operated and totally regulated via the other
MC, the great MILLIONTH-COUNCIL of the ASTRAL PLANE. So YYYYYYYYYYYY
do I keep trying to fight this, many are wondering, if this
BLUEBOOK-SYNDROME is non-beatable, and there in my fucking face like
a solid brick wall? Well, if I quit trying, I may as well start
dying, and this silly yet totally fucking honest answer, is all that
I have to come back with, for those that may be in the least ass bit
interested, dog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My
next blog, will remind new readers, exactly how to perform the great
FASCITAR, as well as work out something beyond Coral Farms Mind
Bending, and that is GAWNUM EQUATIONS, as properly perfected, it can
produce exact answers to otherwise totally forever unanswerable
questions, of any and all of us, no exceptions. I have been told by
Scylla, not to do this; but simply put, just do not care. I have
suffered enough, and the morning light can shine or cloud or
chemtrail over, but whatever happens; I admit to being totally
fucking ass wrong on this shit with the PITSY, and am man enough to
confess it publicly. These cunt lapping mother fucking gutter lickers
won't get off of my back, so now it is time to seriously do what
DAVID ROTH told me to do, and it has been blogged; the THREE BEE's,
YO!!! What are the 3-B's you ask me perhaps? Well, as he said it,
BUILDING, BENEFITS, and BROADS. Two out of three is now operational
with me, and I am waiting for enough persecution and aerial
harassment to take advantage of the next huge round of PUSSY COMMAND.
Once I 'SCORE', dirt ball HOCKEYFLIES; you all DIE-DIE-DIE, your
markets, your rotten cheating team, all of you, you will burn in the
fucking fires of hell!!!!!!
I
do not want to do this, and love being by myself; but THEY are
leaving me no choice, word for word quoting the great Jonathan Frid
known by millions as Barnabas Collins ODF Dark shadows, NOT ODF, you
diseased fucking hacker, OF-OF-OF, keep it up dirt holes. WHERE IS
THE FBI, & WHERE IS BOB MCDOWELL? H-E-L-P ME SHIT HEADS!!!!!!!!
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONIC,
DESTROY-DESTROY-DESTROY, OR ELSE, YO
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
FART
SNIFFING OLD GRANNY, WHAAAAAAAAAAA, what next?
****************************THIS***************************
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0296
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“KEYS,
TRIGGERS, AND INDICATORS”
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2294
SEND-BACK-TEXT
(SBT) DATE AND TIME FILE (DATFILE)
CH-0296-122911.060
COPYRIGHTED
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN © 2006-2011
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
All
right folks, here is a hard punching tale of misery without sparing
the feelings of some people involved, sort of along the lines as if
written or co-written with me, and called the Mark Mohr/Dawn King
Saga of dogshit. But bear with me, there will be some light at the
end of the tunnel, even if it is the one that holds each galaxy
together, and keeping them from falling out into space, and endlessly
drifting into a meaningless merge.
First
off, Dawn-Marie King the late, did not always steer me wrong, and
indeed knew many of my huge secrets, and long before I did, in some
cases. No one needs be specific here. The powerful peeps all know
what's being said. It is coming up now on the year anniversary from
when she departed this horrendous veil of tears, and she had to be
eliminated, as she was a major KEY in many of the Melanie recipes,
all part of, and intrinsically winding through; the Morianity Project
of 1995; that technically began on the previous Halloween day in
1994, at National Park, New Jersey, at the post office there; when I
sent into the United States Mail, my copyright for my book called,
“The Permission Barrier”. Yes on New Years day of 2010, nearly a
year ago now, the mighty Dawn-Marie King, woke up from that dream,
leaving behind the total devastation and destruction of one Michael
Wayne Mountainpen/Mark Wayne Mohr, of Hammonton, New Jersey, and Fort
Pierce, Florida, USAESMWG. She died from Liver Cancer, or at least
this was recorded by the Coroner of Atlantic County I'm quite sure.
But as with my own mother, David Charles Roth, and others I'm quite
sure; a lot more is going on than the simple quick rubber stamped
death certificates, the funeral arrangements; and then life moving
onward by the 'living'. In the case of Dawnie Terra, things were
cosmically way more complex than normal perceptions or ordinary
sciences would ever be able to realize. Only the usage of Quantum
Physics could hope to more successfully begin to probe into the
deeper and darker truths and realities that lay hidden behind these
ugly Oz curtains. And deep dark hidden truths indeed are there folks.
If you ever believed anything that I ever said, believe freaking this
please. Throw all the other shit in the garbage can if you must, but
spare this powerful truth, in the name of all humanity. Think this is
literary license or exaggeration permission, and you will be as wrong
as wrong can get. Before moving on, I had a computer freeze up and
hack that occurred an hour earlier when I was on the net, and trying
to get onto the You-Tube, so that I could click around on the
millions of cool CHEMTRAIL videos. It saddens me at light speed
squared, that no matter how much proof is offered to unpleasant
truths, peeps would rather die and watch their loved ones die, and in
agony with unknown diseases and poisonings, just to keep alive what
my prior blogs refer to as the GWPOS, or GIANT WILLIAMSTOWN POLICE
OFFICER SYNDROME. Yes Selena Dada, let me get my shoes off, and then
let me get my skin off, and then pluck my eyes out so as to avoid
seeing the wretched up 1988 copyrighted poached eggs. Sounds yukky
huh? Well, it was worse; when the great Library of the Congress
first heard these inconceivable audio tapes, on my original EPITOME
OF HARASSMENT; back when I misspelled the word epitome, and was
beaming cars from 5133 Oakland Avenue in Philly, over to 7 East Main
Street in Moorestown, New Jersey. Munikay-Munikay, breaking my codes
off, code-2, code-2, Munikay. No, I will carry these memories with me
forever, as it is not possible to forget any of this, oh mighty
broadcasting networks of America, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.
Before
we really get going however on Dawn, and the last two or three years
of her life; where I was involved with for the most part; let us
discuss Mommy Ann. She told me how a man was in the medical office
there in Berryville-Hammonton, and was telling the doctor he would be
a lot physically better, if not for those fucking chemtrails, quoting
Ann; and what she told me he said, and for all I know, he did say
this. For all I know, Paula King married a military man, who she met
at an Atlantic City music concert, and Sarah Callio may very well
have gotten herself beaten up by some biker-bitch in an Atlantic City
bar, and is now in some nursing home facility, and many other things
she told me may all be true. But in a new light, they may all be a
big bunch of fucking hooey. Ann warned me that she was a mean person,
and that was no lie. She said if someone hurts her, she will always
get them back, and she must have seen my escaping that life of total
torment as a personal betrayal on her, instead of seeing it through
eyes of maturity. One thing I'll say about all of this family; they
act like eternal teenagers. THEY SIMPLY PUT FOLKS, REFUSE TO GROW UP,
and that is all fine and well and totally their own business. Just do
it without me, as I want to grow, and get older, and die; and leave
this hellish place behind. Each person marches to a different mother
fucking drummer, and that is fine and well with me; it simply means
that a blogged story like mine, will need to be amended and adjusted
quite often; in order to properly reflect the necessary changes so
that we can forever aim our course towards Truth Boulevard, and away
from the side streets, such as Liars Lane, Delusion Path, and so
forth. I NEED REALITY. The great BANCROFT SCHOOL, of HADDONFIELD, NEW
JERSEY; drilled this fucking shit into me peeps; and nobody on Planet
Earth, will ever take it away from me; and that I'll promise all of
you, with a 'Foreman Guarantee', whether I like the way I'll look or
not, after he boxes my brains out.
Lads,
Lassies, and Labradors; the only reason Dawn's mother Ann called me
down here in Florida, was to hurt me, and she did. This entire rotten
to the core family, will not be satisfied until they pound every
ounce of my pathetic flesh, into the ground; and then they can drop a
ton of pig-shit on top of where I lay. Two July's ago, I made public
and printed, the letters from Dawn-Marie first, and then Ann; that
were delivered to my RV-Park in White City, on US-Route One, after I
left the motel across the street to live there until that whack job
April Lee got me into the 26th Street ghetto hood house
with retard Wendy. When I moved out, so did Wendy, from her side of
this duplex. It was as though the entire thing was all prearranged
and planed and set up decades ago, and if so, why not centuries, why
not fifty million years, just as VIQUEEN JEWELLY TOLD ME????????????
But right before I left this duplex up in the hood of Fort Pierce, to
come live down here on 7th Avenue at the Public Housing
Building; extremely powerful transdimensional shit was happening all
around me, and the world knows it; they just don't talk about it or
admit it; but if they really think they are fooling me with all their
dam crap, then I say, bravo to them; and think whatever the fucking
hell turns you on, and floats your screwed up twisted boats.
Yes
my Morians, Lessians, and Inbetweenians; like it or snot; the simple
truth is that life is indeed made up of some powerful nasty stuff,
and it works with pivotal things such as KEYS and TRIGGERS, and thus,
an observant astute onlooker, can watch out for, as Dave Roth labeled
them quite often, INDICATORS. Now without getting either Donna Summer
or Melanie Safka all juiced up and hyper, let me try and further
explore this a little bit with you folks, OK JK
Waterhoses?????????????????? For a quick example, anyone in this
family from hell, can do nothing but hurt and bring you down, AND
LOVE IT, MICKEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! On top of that, they all seem to
have magical powerful ways to superimpose upon their victims, that
they are the bad guy, and it was all our fault. Now I am not excusing
1986, but I am also not excusing 2008, capesha???????????????????????
An old philosophical fable comes to mind that goes, “To keep up a
quarrel is simply absurd, as nobody will ever have the last word”
and this may sound like a child's story, but think on it, and you can
see instant powerful ass stuff
here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Let
us do a freaking visual on a few things before I start to wind down
the blog at 2:24 AM-EST. First, the Dow Markets tumbled after I
printed the great two 'THAT FAMILY' letters in July of OH-MAROLA-TEN.
Then came the mind bending censorship of my blogs, converting them
into glorified tweet accounts until magically, right out of Harry
Potter himself, it somehow restored itself to normal, mystifying
great computer minds that I put onto the problem at the time. Within
months, the powerful interaction with NASA, the choppers, the phone
call between cousins, and Indian River County, Florida, in some
semi-localized area in the vast hyperspace, followed by the death of
the great KING Morning Light herself, and then the contact with me by
phone, but not in any ordinary way, but after I received a call from
the 650 area code first, from 36th Avenue in San Mateo,
KALI. Shortly after this time, I posted up on the YOU-TUBE, my second
of the now three songs I have up there, that GOOGLE has buried,
naturally, as always remember what Plato told me a while back, a long
while really, “Beware the tide that brings the music message, as it
will be remembered the longest, and heard the loudest”. Oh John
Lennon old buddy, watch your back, oh never mind; too late for that
message!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
WHITTLE BWOG DOES NOT TERMINATE QUITE YET FOLKS, WHAAAAAAAAAAA-BIT &
MISTER ELMER FWUD, WEED ON POTS.
BACK
WHEN I STARTED THIS BULLSHIT ON THE DAM INTERNET, AND WISH NOW THAT I
NEVER HAD, ED AND CHRIS, YO; I WAS STILL DOING MY VOICE RECORDING OF
MY RECORD KEEPING OF MY PERSONAL DISASTROUS LIFE OF ETERNAL HELL.
Morianity Bible For Millenium Three:
Thursday, August 03, 2006, (JC TAPE EQVT #25,705)
Chapter 49 Just Call Me Poor-Whittle Ugly Old Joe Shmo, Who's Out of 'his' SPACE-TIME-MIND!
My
guru friend Ed told me about the old cartoon comic character
called Joe Shmo, the dude with the eternal black cloud hanging
over his head, and there it was, everywhere he went, whatever he
would do, and only he seemed to get rained on perpetually, no one
else, except of course for the normal and accepted amounts of
negatives that life naturally deals to us all. Anywho, my guru and
I had a small falling out early in July over the major hacking
that I get, but I blew his mind with one thing that even he was
not able to chalk off as my paranoia. Look, I am paranoid, and U 2
would B if U had 2 endure what I go through every single friggin
day of my pathetic miserable existence. I did not say life, as it
is not life. My hell is SUB-VAMPIRIC EXISTANCE, and that's all it
is!!!!!!!!!! When he learned about what happened 2 me over the
past weekend on my job site where I'm employed as a security
officer, with the 'otherwise normally friendly dog, by the name of
'JULY', by the way, but in Hispanic language, pronounced
[who-lee-oh], which in this language means the great emperor of
olden days Rome, and where our month of July comes from, as he
created a new calendar. Later after his time, the Gregorian
calendar was conceived of by the great Prince Gregory, and 13
months are now the 12 months, one to each represent an individual
tribe of the Israelite's. 7 and 12, the great SSJKK's 2 numbers,
could have a book the size of the Britannica Encyclopedia written
on them. Where can I begin? Later I'll tell U-all just a bit more,
but 4 right now, I must tell U this.
Notice how they broke my car stereo, costing me 50 bucks to have the warrantied replacement model re-installed at Circuit City of Deptford, NJ, Electronic Department store. Then the huge rest of the weekend milituforce death siege that these hammer-wads put me through, and then the horrific huge bully-teen slob that harassed me while doing no more than leaving this library where today I am back at. I will not allow these fish-eyed Esther-fools to intimidate me, as I said before, U damn turds'll have to kill me, and guess what Duncan; America my run on U, but like U, but with slightly altered rules in the reality of the situation; I do not die and stay dead, so LOL; and I do not mean loving on line. U'll need all the luck and then more than all the energy in this entire downlined reality which is just SSJKK's upline thoughtwave, and with all of that, U cannot eliminate me, 'F U D G Y A'. Here is what I started 2 tell u the other day on prior 'blogianity', but as I tend 2 do a lot, I get off on a tangent, and not realize until reading my printouts at home at a later part of the 4th dimension, that I had totally forgotten to complete the main point that I was talking 2 U about. Funny how the lawtrons, just as I now begin to go on with the story, the security guard here at the library that is part of the story, and reason for another [3rd] flying to the moon week on their dirt-hole stock manipulated ICPE-TEK market, just walked by my place here at the computer, and I know it was a bit of intimidation, as she never on my 5 or so of my times here, walks this particular aisle along this particular wall. So after the huge black sumo teen scared me out of a years shrinkage, not growth, as I am knee high to a tad-pole, any-who, I told her what happened, and she would not do one thing, wouldn't even speak to me, what am I for crissake, chopped eyed peas and liver-cuts? Her job is to address my complaint, not to try to tackle the huge misbehaving teens on the outside benches, but 2 at least call the Constables On Patrol of Winslow Township, NJ. But instead, she pulls a Mayor Bob Levy on me, like the day I told U-all's about in the Atlantic Ocean, where in 1997, we were out body-surfing, along with a couple other lifeguards, and when I asked him a question regarding Sarah Callio Martino, he gives me the cold shoulder, the smirk, and the package of pure hostility, all wrapped up into one big pile of loose turtle manure. I knew he knew her, as the huge flood of a foot of rain that swallowed up parts of New Jersey, producing a foot of rain in the great city on human-world-planes, Atlantic City, NJ, [A C, N J]. During a Jersey TV Channel broadcast showing all the problems that the flood had caused the area, he was standing right outside the friggin' water company,their website is www.acmua.com. They had him intentionally right there, as they all knew that we swam and body-surfed out in the ocean. I had previously been nosing around the area and asking lots of people about Sarah, even the famous Frailenger's employee lady that they all know, Queenie, as we and all the locals called her, cool choice for a nickname, and I had gone into Robert McGuire's shit hole to ask a few things, in fact my exact words to him were, "I am looking to find Sarah Karge, to reminisce about the old days here on Tennessee Avenue back in the 60's". It was out of a movie how he treated me, demanding my ID, and he made a photocopy of it, and it is all way 2 upsetting to further go into at this time, but back to my point with the library's security officer, the young pretty but very hostile black chick who treated me so bad, when I was the foooookin' victim in all of this for my 62nd grand-daddy's sake. U know he and I can both walk on top of a surface made from two elements of hydrogen and one element of oxygen, and one of these days, if no other way can B found 4 me to get help and recognition regarding these evil bastards that R putting me through this vicious eternal hell, I swear to all the stinking astral realm gods, even Mr. Krassle himself, the great Neptune-Jupiter Japtarama Cavelantisocleevious, that I will go to the great mirror of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, [AC, NJ], and go out into the water and run around on top of it all day, until every stinking TV station in the country is all over the story. U pricks want real war with me, then just bring it on ya 'dingdong hammer' blowhards of 'STM'!!!!!!
My complaint to the library system got attention, HA HA HA. Even though they win in long run play with this horrific siege-hell, me out 50 bucks and bullied, and even beaten up a bit by a resident of Dogtown, vacationing on the Earth 4 a little while, the stock market naturally goes flying up. U know by now Mr, B. Joel, how it all works, just harass and persecute poor innocent whittle me, and up goes Dow Jones, and lose,lose,lose, for the Philadelphia Phillies ball-club, of course I no longer feel badly 4 them, they had their chance to reverse their, and my, curse, and laughed and ignored me, well, tough navy beans 4 them and mister Carl Allen. Eddie Himacane, as I have nick named my computer guru, is a believer, after the incident with the dog, and sooner or later, more things will B witnessed, and more people also will start 2 C all this shitsapookna, they can only do this 2 a point, and one day when they least think it ever could possibly happen, nuclear B O O M - B O O M, and thermonuclear B A N G, they'll all B caught, and friggin' screwed, and I will be a multi frickin' billionaire, as these pricks all have very very deep pockets.
I error'd on a prior-blog, on my 9 year cycle telling of July 12th of 1970, 1977, 1988, 1997, and 2006, I said the interaction of July 12, 1996; and that was an Estonian, not Brian/Brain attack. I meant to say the dream of July 12, 1997, and adding 7 years starting at July 12, of '70, it would go to 79, 88, 97, and oh-six. And by the gods, it did. Speaking of the gods, the 27th is Goddess Diana Arteemis's special number, numerologically totaling up to 9, and back on the 27th of July, during my sieges that she hates these pricks 4 causing me, all locals to the Hammonton, New Jersey area, know, that she came around me like I have never seen her do in all my 51 &2/3 years of my life as Mountainpen, forgive the typo the other day, the spell checker on my blog at my other spot on 'my space dot com', did that. Anyway, Diana just past dusk, was all over me; and I was all over her. She made me happier than I ever have been on this terrible Earth, in all my many existences throughout the 4th and the 5th dimensions. Thank you Baby-blond, I love you so much girl. I know U love to tease your little boy, U luscious teen queen giant beauty, when your girlfriend took me to the soda shop in the great city back when I was dreaming it was Easter Sunday, of the year 2K1, you had so much fun when U figured out that I was projected so to speak as the great Robert Monroe, would put it, and did not know who or where I was, disoriented and all that, and the way that U came over and stared down at me with those unfathomably delicious eyes of yours, and that breathtaking long bright canary yellow hair, all I knew was that I never wanted U 2 leave me and go away, and I am so sorry that I did not speak up and tell you how I felt, but now, I do know that you were indeed aware that I was totally discombobulated and out of it, as I had fallen out of my Earth dream and was a bit disconnected from anything at that point, I was being shown the proper way 2 carry a surfboard by your friend, and when we walked a ways from where we had started, she said 2 me,"Let me stop in here a seck 2 C my friend Diana." I will always luv U Diana, and thank you more than words can ever say for coming to me as U did on your number, the 27th. It was just as though a kid was flipping a light switch off and on over and over again, for well over a solid hour, with your beautiful multicolored streamers and ribbons racing across the dark night skies. No one is anywhere near as beautiful as U, my lovely queen. Let the 6th dimension through this computer's cyberspace, tell U that I cannot go on much longer here without U. Some day I know you will come to me in a human form, if I must B stuck forever in this nightmare Earth dream.
My loyal Morians, thank U for putting up with my short message to my lovely lightning goddess, D.A. , as she means everything 2 me. I want 2 tell U now that the Lamist Cult or really, better said, the LAMIST ORGANIZATION, as I have actually heard it referred to as by one of them, needs be discussed a wee bit now, but first, a quick typo was made when on a prior blog I was talking about going with my mom to a hotel in AC, NJ, the great TREYMORE HOTEL, that all locals, and most non-locals know of, a once very famous landmark, that the dummies tore down, showing how America shows her respect for its history IMHO, {in my humble opinion}, if this 90's internet expression is still valid and in existence, but back to point, I said that SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE'S name number is 30/465, and it is. 30 is the total of letters in all of her great lovely names, and 1+2+3+4+5+6+7...30 does in fact = up to 465. This 465 when turned into numerical dating system, is April of 65, and I was not here as Mountainpen in 1865, nor will poor old Mountainpen B here, hopefully the gods, in 2065, so only the 19 or the twentieth century-65 is relevant 4 me, hence April of 1965 or 4/65, is when Sarah got the Treymore 2 do whatever needed B done @ get mom and me 2 come over 2 her street, and 2 the Trinidad Motel. The error in my blog stated 4/64 if memory is serving me over the Ettos hack, the great RR, or Reagan's Revenge, which I do not dare presently go into nor admit anything about, regarding a machine that I built in the mid-'80's, and used, many times to the detriment of a major enemy, and mister pres-37, was one, as he started all this [Earthly persecution] on me, not that I am not in eternal Hell, long before and long after, this idiot ever came onto the scene. Back 2 the Lamists: The jerk off bully back on Tuesday the first of August, here at this very library branch where I now sit and peck away on little square keys, WAS A FREAKING LAMIST. So is Mayor Levy of AC, NJ, and so is Mrs. L. The prior mayor, Langford was not, but Whaelon and Ussery both were. It was this very time on the calendar, within one lousy day, back 10 frickin' years ago, just 2 weeks after my Sarah Karge, turned 100 years of age, that my poor mom was terroristically threatened at the 'then' TURNERSVILLE PATHMARK STORE. They get rid of all the things that were landmarks that I tell the world where shit happens to me at, even the Treymore, as this was what led to the most powerful incident in my entire life, my meeting the great all mighty, here in the human flesh-worlds. They also in like manner, got rid of the Pathmark grocery store, in Turnersville, New Jersey. Anyway, this threat was made to my mom and me on the 2nd day of August, in 1996, just a few months after my writing the song SARAH, about my lovely queen. They did not like any part of my trying to get the song recorded, let alone more than that, getting a once huge star to sing it, Mister Billy Harner, the locals in my area knew him as the [human percolator], one helluva super cool dude. They certainly did not ever want the song 2 get any airplay, but it did, on WVLT radio in Vineland, New Jersey, as one dude, [George and George] as he called himself, would call every week and request the song to B played, and so it was. It even made it for one week to the number one spot on country music charts, in the independent music system, which if you ever saw a published [pie-chart], from those who should know, the great BMI, as only ASCAP and BMI are the 2 biggest royalty collecting agents in the entire global music industry, and by their pie chart, independent music makes up more than half of the major recording labels all put together, so don't sneeze at my minimal success. I paid federal taxes on musical royalties, and collected small royalties from 1998 when WVLT started airing SARAH, up until it slowed to a trickle of pocket change about 1 and 1/2 years ago, a helluva nice little run!!! I wrote Sarah, the song, on the 12th day of May of 1996, and my search and quest to locate my lovely teen queen super girl, was less than a year old. There is so much 2 tell all of U regarding this, and I'll get 2 it all, but first, gotta admit that it is a bit weird that August 1, of 2006, ten years later to the day except for 24 hours, and I am physically threatened again. If this dude keeps messing with me, it'll B his funeral, as I already have put 2 dudes in the big house for illegally 'effing' with me, over the years, huh 1983 (C).
Notice how they broke my car stereo, costing me 50 bucks to have the warrantied replacement model re-installed at Circuit City of Deptford, NJ, Electronic Department store. Then the huge rest of the weekend milituforce death siege that these hammer-wads put me through, and then the horrific huge bully-teen slob that harassed me while doing no more than leaving this library where today I am back at. I will not allow these fish-eyed Esther-fools to intimidate me, as I said before, U damn turds'll have to kill me, and guess what Duncan; America my run on U, but like U, but with slightly altered rules in the reality of the situation; I do not die and stay dead, so LOL; and I do not mean loving on line. U'll need all the luck and then more than all the energy in this entire downlined reality which is just SSJKK's upline thoughtwave, and with all of that, U cannot eliminate me, 'F U D G Y A'. Here is what I started 2 tell u the other day on prior 'blogianity', but as I tend 2 do a lot, I get off on a tangent, and not realize until reading my printouts at home at a later part of the 4th dimension, that I had totally forgotten to complete the main point that I was talking 2 U about. Funny how the lawtrons, just as I now begin to go on with the story, the security guard here at the library that is part of the story, and reason for another [3rd] flying to the moon week on their dirt-hole stock manipulated ICPE-TEK market, just walked by my place here at the computer, and I know it was a bit of intimidation, as she never on my 5 or so of my times here, walks this particular aisle along this particular wall. So after the huge black sumo teen scared me out of a years shrinkage, not growth, as I am knee high to a tad-pole, any-who, I told her what happened, and she would not do one thing, wouldn't even speak to me, what am I for crissake, chopped eyed peas and liver-cuts? Her job is to address my complaint, not to try to tackle the huge misbehaving teens on the outside benches, but 2 at least call the Constables On Patrol of Winslow Township, NJ. But instead, she pulls a Mayor Bob Levy on me, like the day I told U-all's about in the Atlantic Ocean, where in 1997, we were out body-surfing, along with a couple other lifeguards, and when I asked him a question regarding Sarah Callio Martino, he gives me the cold shoulder, the smirk, and the package of pure hostility, all wrapped up into one big pile of loose turtle manure. I knew he knew her, as the huge flood of a foot of rain that swallowed up parts of New Jersey, producing a foot of rain in the great city on human-world-planes, Atlantic City, NJ, [A C, N J]. During a Jersey TV Channel broadcast showing all the problems that the flood had caused the area, he was standing right outside the friggin' water company,their website is www.acmua.com. They had him intentionally right there, as they all knew that we swam and body-surfed out in the ocean. I had previously been nosing around the area and asking lots of people about Sarah, even the famous Frailenger's employee lady that they all know, Queenie, as we and all the locals called her, cool choice for a nickname, and I had gone into Robert McGuire's shit hole to ask a few things, in fact my exact words to him were, "I am looking to find Sarah Karge, to reminisce about the old days here on Tennessee Avenue back in the 60's". It was out of a movie how he treated me, demanding my ID, and he made a photocopy of it, and it is all way 2 upsetting to further go into at this time, but back to my point with the library's security officer, the young pretty but very hostile black chick who treated me so bad, when I was the foooookin' victim in all of this for my 62nd grand-daddy's sake. U know he and I can both walk on top of a surface made from two elements of hydrogen and one element of oxygen, and one of these days, if no other way can B found 4 me to get help and recognition regarding these evil bastards that R putting me through this vicious eternal hell, I swear to all the stinking astral realm gods, even Mr. Krassle himself, the great Neptune-Jupiter Japtarama Cavelantisocleevious, that I will go to the great mirror of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, [AC, NJ], and go out into the water and run around on top of it all day, until every stinking TV station in the country is all over the story. U pricks want real war with me, then just bring it on ya 'dingdong hammer' blowhards of 'STM'!!!!!!
My complaint to the library system got attention, HA HA HA. Even though they win in long run play with this horrific siege-hell, me out 50 bucks and bullied, and even beaten up a bit by a resident of Dogtown, vacationing on the Earth 4 a little while, the stock market naturally goes flying up. U know by now Mr, B. Joel, how it all works, just harass and persecute poor innocent whittle me, and up goes Dow Jones, and lose,lose,lose, for the Philadelphia Phillies ball-club, of course I no longer feel badly 4 them, they had their chance to reverse their, and my, curse, and laughed and ignored me, well, tough navy beans 4 them and mister Carl Allen. Eddie Himacane, as I have nick named my computer guru, is a believer, after the incident with the dog, and sooner or later, more things will B witnessed, and more people also will start 2 C all this shitsapookna, they can only do this 2 a point, and one day when they least think it ever could possibly happen, nuclear B O O M - B O O M, and thermonuclear B A N G, they'll all B caught, and friggin' screwed, and I will be a multi frickin' billionaire, as these pricks all have very very deep pockets.
I error'd on a prior-blog, on my 9 year cycle telling of July 12th of 1970, 1977, 1988, 1997, and 2006, I said the interaction of July 12, 1996; and that was an Estonian, not Brian/Brain attack. I meant to say the dream of July 12, 1997, and adding 7 years starting at July 12, of '70, it would go to 79, 88, 97, and oh-six. And by the gods, it did. Speaking of the gods, the 27th is Goddess Diana Arteemis's special number, numerologically totaling up to 9, and back on the 27th of July, during my sieges that she hates these pricks 4 causing me, all locals to the Hammonton, New Jersey area, know, that she came around me like I have never seen her do in all my 51 &2/3 years of my life as Mountainpen, forgive the typo the other day, the spell checker on my blog at my other spot on 'my space dot com', did that. Anyway, Diana just past dusk, was all over me; and I was all over her. She made me happier than I ever have been on this terrible Earth, in all my many existences throughout the 4th and the 5th dimensions. Thank you Baby-blond, I love you so much girl. I know U love to tease your little boy, U luscious teen queen giant beauty, when your girlfriend took me to the soda shop in the great city back when I was dreaming it was Easter Sunday, of the year 2K1, you had so much fun when U figured out that I was projected so to speak as the great Robert Monroe, would put it, and did not know who or where I was, disoriented and all that, and the way that U came over and stared down at me with those unfathomably delicious eyes of yours, and that breathtaking long bright canary yellow hair, all I knew was that I never wanted U 2 leave me and go away, and I am so sorry that I did not speak up and tell you how I felt, but now, I do know that you were indeed aware that I was totally discombobulated and out of it, as I had fallen out of my Earth dream and was a bit disconnected from anything at that point, I was being shown the proper way 2 carry a surfboard by your friend, and when we walked a ways from where we had started, she said 2 me,"Let me stop in here a seck 2 C my friend Diana." I will always luv U Diana, and thank you more than words can ever say for coming to me as U did on your number, the 27th. It was just as though a kid was flipping a light switch off and on over and over again, for well over a solid hour, with your beautiful multicolored streamers and ribbons racing across the dark night skies. No one is anywhere near as beautiful as U, my lovely queen. Let the 6th dimension through this computer's cyberspace, tell U that I cannot go on much longer here without U. Some day I know you will come to me in a human form, if I must B stuck forever in this nightmare Earth dream.
My loyal Morians, thank U for putting up with my short message to my lovely lightning goddess, D.A. , as she means everything 2 me. I want 2 tell U now that the Lamist Cult or really, better said, the LAMIST ORGANIZATION, as I have actually heard it referred to as by one of them, needs be discussed a wee bit now, but first, a quick typo was made when on a prior blog I was talking about going with my mom to a hotel in AC, NJ, the great TREYMORE HOTEL, that all locals, and most non-locals know of, a once very famous landmark, that the dummies tore down, showing how America shows her respect for its history IMHO, {in my humble opinion}, if this 90's internet expression is still valid and in existence, but back to point, I said that SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE'S name number is 30/465, and it is. 30 is the total of letters in all of her great lovely names, and 1+2+3+4+5+6+7...30 does in fact = up to 465. This 465 when turned into numerical dating system, is April of 65, and I was not here as Mountainpen in 1865, nor will poor old Mountainpen B here, hopefully the gods, in 2065, so only the 19 or the twentieth century-65 is relevant 4 me, hence April of 1965 or 4/65, is when Sarah got the Treymore 2 do whatever needed B done @ get mom and me 2 come over 2 her street, and 2 the Trinidad Motel. The error in my blog stated 4/64 if memory is serving me over the Ettos hack, the great RR, or Reagan's Revenge, which I do not dare presently go into nor admit anything about, regarding a machine that I built in the mid-'80's, and used, many times to the detriment of a major enemy, and mister pres-37, was one, as he started all this [Earthly persecution] on me, not that I am not in eternal Hell, long before and long after, this idiot ever came onto the scene. Back 2 the Lamists: The jerk off bully back on Tuesday the first of August, here at this very library branch where I now sit and peck away on little square keys, WAS A FREAKING LAMIST. So is Mayor Levy of AC, NJ, and so is Mrs. L. The prior mayor, Langford was not, but Whaelon and Ussery both were. It was this very time on the calendar, within one lousy day, back 10 frickin' years ago, just 2 weeks after my Sarah Karge, turned 100 years of age, that my poor mom was terroristically threatened at the 'then' TURNERSVILLE PATHMARK STORE. They get rid of all the things that were landmarks that I tell the world where shit happens to me at, even the Treymore, as this was what led to the most powerful incident in my entire life, my meeting the great all mighty, here in the human flesh-worlds. They also in like manner, got rid of the Pathmark grocery store, in Turnersville, New Jersey. Anyway, this threat was made to my mom and me on the 2nd day of August, in 1996, just a few months after my writing the song SARAH, about my lovely queen. They did not like any part of my trying to get the song recorded, let alone more than that, getting a once huge star to sing it, Mister Billy Harner, the locals in my area knew him as the [human percolator], one helluva super cool dude. They certainly did not ever want the song 2 get any airplay, but it did, on WVLT radio in Vineland, New Jersey, as one dude, [George and George] as he called himself, would call every week and request the song to B played, and so it was. It even made it for one week to the number one spot on country music charts, in the independent music system, which if you ever saw a published [pie-chart], from those who should know, the great BMI, as only ASCAP and BMI are the 2 biggest royalty collecting agents in the entire global music industry, and by their pie chart, independent music makes up more than half of the major recording labels all put together, so don't sneeze at my minimal success. I paid federal taxes on musical royalties, and collected small royalties from 1998 when WVLT started airing SARAH, up until it slowed to a trickle of pocket change about 1 and 1/2 years ago, a helluva nice little run!!! I wrote Sarah, the song, on the 12th day of May of 1996, and my search and quest to locate my lovely teen queen super girl, was less than a year old. There is so much 2 tell all of U regarding this, and I'll get 2 it all, but first, gotta admit that it is a bit weird that August 1, of 2006, ten years later to the day except for 24 hours, and I am physically threatened again. If this dude keeps messing with me, it'll B his funeral, as I already have put 2 dudes in the big house for illegally 'effing' with me, over the years, huh 1983 (C).
About Me
- Name: theansweristheqyuestion
- Location: hammonton, new jersey, United States
Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can
honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or
have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through
hyperspace, with awareness
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