TAPE 25,737

NOW WE HAVE WALKED THE COURSE, AND SEEN HOW THINGS DO NOT MAGICALLY CHANGE; BUT THAT VIA EXPLORATRONIC DEVELOPMENTS, FIFTH DIMENSIONAL ENERGY IS WHAT ACTUALLY INTERCHANGES AND FORMS DISPLACEMENTS, IN SILIMAR WAYS THAT FILLING A BATHTUB UP TOO HIGH WITH WATER, AND PLACING anyone of significant body weight into that tub, causes ONE HELL OF A MESSY WET FLOOR. As the lovely girl from Jamaica puts it in MC's OHM-9 great movie, let's explore this further.

MARCH 12, 2014,

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THIS IS JOURNAL TAPE NUMBER 25,737.

Talk about wanting to freaking wash your hands!!!!!!!!!!

Folks it is hot and humid today and has been for a couple days. The humidity is nearly 100 percent most of the night, but drops down to sixties making it bearable by day. Diana was supposed to possibly come around and visit me today, and she still may, as it is getting overcast since right before I started this blog. If I'm a good little boy, who knows what lightning may do, as she has come all around me many times since I was a child in this current-me-lifetime. WEEEEEEEE; and don't call me BX'S!!!

Screw how many registry errors you found, you stupid ass computer. Don't bother me, I'm blogging. Well for some time now, things have been very weird all around me, even weird for me. I'm not talking about one WEIRD DAY as you've all heard me make mention of, this is something really weird that's fuckign going on around my residence. That is all I am safe to say for right now. I think maybe my pal the sheriff did something,but I am not sure of any of these facts or theories, so it is best left alone for right now, good folks out here.

Tomorrow I will call the Comcast peeps, and if they have not disconnected all other services except for my television service, then I'll have to go to the regulators and tell them that they're playing games with a senior on a fixed income, as this normally gets attention. I cannot afford all these monster bills, and a price of around double nickels was agreed upon for a monthly bill. However, this was several days ago back the day before I mailed them their monster bill from last month, and my computer modem is still on with the same steady blue lights. I was thinking it was going to go totally dark, and then I was going to take it off line and send it along with some other property of their that I have that should keep my bill lower after it is returned to them, back to their Vero Beach, Florida, office. But if I shut it down, I have no way of seeing if those lights are still on. It is the AT&T modem that is hooked up to my computer, not theirs.

Oh the gods, if this is you guys, can't you move on with your lives and leave me alone, JEESE LOUISE???????????????

You know what pisses me off more than anything else in this screwed up world? Peeps think they can do anything they want to do, but don't anyone else so much as breathe. We all tend to develop this all mighty self attitude, if we don't constantly keep our self in check. Even wonder why, good people? Don't anyone write me and say anyone is immune, as I could care less if you're the fucking POPE!!!!!!!!

Now it makes me blue, when I don't have you, I'm missing you, I'm missing you. Every time I think I know, I fall head deep down in the snow, and it makes me makes me makes me makes me blue. The only thing different about nearly 31 years ago when I wrote this song and copyrighted it legally in the US © Office, is the quantum reality that all the in-between points that separate important events where they end up as well as they begin, are all 100% exploratronic, and I know that now, and have known it for some of this quantum fuzziness in STM, but most definitely, I did not know this back in 1983, Shirley Lymph Nodes Hockey Singer.

Well not to rip off my pals, the Beatles, but here comes the sun, so if anything, it will get a few degrees hotter before it cools down. Oh well, I never expect good stuff, that sway, I am noever disappointed. Don't like my attitude, Mizz Twinbay, well, don't hang around me. You won't see me crying a single tear.

Dear puke eating diary journal, to quote the old nineteenth century love sick school girls; what a fucking pain in the dick eating ass life is when you are holding the 2000 year old family curse. Oh what a wild and wonderful mother fucking family, us HUNTINGTON clan. SHEEEEEEEEEEEEIT, Dawn-Marie King, and DAD!!!!!!! Still, shall we move on???

All these prick pounding years and decades, I am seeing events in my life as either normal, or else some force acting upon them in some non natural way and called this interference of whatever would have happened if this had not been messed with; some form of ''influence and or domination over it'', and this was indeed a half truth, but a half truth is worth about as much as half a boat, half a car, half a job, and half a parachute. You could go on with this laundry list of very smelly and dirty clothes all day if you want to, half a spouse, half a parent, half a school, half a child, the list is another Elizabeth Montgomery Agnes Moorehead ''Bewitched'' deal. Some scum fucking bag hacking exploratron is in my room and inside me, only with power over stuff around me, as in an energy form, a60 pounds of energy could control the mass of practically the entire Planet Earth. This is all why my Exploratron Explanation to everything, is the only possible answer, and nothing changes about it even if any son of a bitch in the world chooses to ignore and reject it.

Thanks for nothing for dropping my link, Roseann Delaney. Go choke on your coffin. Now computer hacking is fucking cunt starting up, Bob old FCC pal, McDowell, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It is 4:33 Post Meridian.

THE EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND is made up of advanced folks in futures of countless universes in hyperspace, that for the most part, say 90+% of them, is a totally organized group and club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, for those who insist on playing these monstrous detestable games with me, from the LAMBRIGG CULT OF THE ASTRAL-PLANE, always remember and know, that every bit as real and true as gravitation, is the law of the breadcrumb-sleuth.

Yes Mister Simon Chrodochrome, not all photos come out in Atlantic City, and then, in other cases sir and pal, not all memories come out. One or the other always does work, so as to obey the lawtronic regulation of breadcrumb sleuths. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

WALL STREET'S STOCK MARKET HOLDS NO INTEREST FOR ME AT ALL. I HAVE TOLD ALL OF YOU WHAT IT DOES, WHERE IT TRULY CAME FROM, WHO USES IT, AND HOW IT CAN ONLY IN THE END, BENEFIT THE TOP ONE PERCENT OF THE WEALTHIEST FOLKS. NOW YOU CAN ALL TELL ME TO GO TO HELL, OR SILENTLY CHOOSE TO BELIEVE IN MY WISDOM.

Misses Marola at the Cooley Hall in Haddonfield, New Jersey, eleven years before 1802 Robin Hill Apartments, and 1980; went onto do her planned thing, back in 1969. By making me do that school play, I learned the power and importance to two things spoken by a mysterious goddess not of this world, named SARAH, from Atlantic City's great famous Tennessee Avenue. But it was the third thing not said in 1969 that has only come clear to me recently in a powerful ''dream''. In this recent 2014 dream, she was speaking to me and reminding me of our game called, “GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS”. It was back in 1996 on Pearl Harbor Day, December the seventh, when she originally played this game with me. Now she wanted to explain how this would lead me to figuring out the importance to the letters of E-S-S, as in GOD-ESS, or for that matter, the great ESS (Exploratronic Supermind Society). The EXPLORATRONS that visit other parallel universes in DREAMS, are the GUESTS, Bible Daniel Interpreter. The letters in the words of GUESS and GUESTS, both have the ESS, but the remaining letters are GU in the one word, and GUT in the other word. Not concerning ourselves with this for right this minute; we get back to the fact that this game had nothing to do with the now removed balcony at a vacation resort city hotel, or Mary Moore in her famous Nick-@-Night green dress television show episode; from those middle nineties days when all this was going down in what mortals love to refer to as 'real time'; but rather, the actual exploratrons or GUESTS, and how I need to begin to alter my cave age dinosaur behavior as the new millennium soon comes in, so as to be able to begin correctly identifying what is happening all around me, exploratronically, hence, ''GUESSING THE NAME OF THE GUESTS. It really isn't rocket science, yet until the mighty Middie Goddess Herself explained this to me ten days or so ago in a DREAM; it might as well have been kids in a sandbox trying to build an antimatter field and discussing intelligently amongst themselves, the great formula of energy is equal to mass times the square of the speed of light, AKA E=MC SQ.

Yes the trillion things that pertain to my past, and boyhood, Misses Marola, 1969, and so much more; No I do not keep track any more; not of this, or anything else that is major frikkin' depressing. Who needs shit that depresses the hell out you??????

Cut me a big ass break, world!!!!!

l am merely saying that I know what is going on, and I am not saying, that this gives me a whole lot of dam power over it so that I can prevent a lot of this. Think about it seriously for a second. If I have the entire ESS against me, what can one person who knows how to become a TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON do to stop all of this? Any guru or mystic or know-it-all or whatever out here, who says differently, is a fool, a liar, or needs serious amounts of personal couch time, in their own lives. Now that I do know, and that is all that I know, GET THAT???

I would rather move forward and worry more about what the GUESTS in my universe are up to today and tomorrow, and stop playing endless super sleuth with shit done by them in the past. I may very well be totally stuck with these GUESTS, continually CROSSING OVER, not Academy Road to Grant Avenue, Cousin Carol Mason, but into my present non-musically related and connected life; but I will LEARN TO DEAL WITH THIS IN THIS TIME, AND NOT KEEP ON MAKING DECADES AND CENTURIES GONE BY, AN ENDLESS PART OF ALL OF TH EONGOINGS OF THESE PRESENT TIME ANTICS OF THESE LOVELY EXPLORATRON-GUESTS. I HAVE ENOUGH TO DO NOW, GUESSING WHAT THEY ARE ALL UP TO HERE AND NOW, LOVELY GFODDESS MIDDIE ISISCYLLA, (SSJKK)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DID I SAY 52 PERCENT? I WOULD KILL TO BE BACK ANYWHERE NEAR 52%, YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!! I am closer to 98% somewhere, in 2014. Only about 5 days in the first two months were not super botbar, and no day in this March sadness fucked up month has been anywhere near above BOTBAR!!!!!!!!!!!!! All over the north shore inlet of Atlantic City, when this all got started in 1996 and 1997, the great New Jersey Division of Motor Vehicles started cranking out license plates with the initials of the great and powerful VICTORIA OZ CALLIO. Was this part of the forbidden secret you knew about, 8 years earlier and wanted to tell my mom in that diner, Jim Burr of the non Jeremiah Burke High School of Donna Summer Disco Dances, and Dave Roth's old hated boss that he talked about 24-7 'till the day he up and died along with Bo Jangle's poor dog, Mister Jimmy Batches? Yes Lilly Munster, this is indeed a great big blog TEE-HEE-HEE, or if Mike McNulty is reading this, then it would alter slightly to AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So really, why does the BLOGGER WEBSITE post up the very same pasted in copyright page on my songs downloaded into my document files from the Library of Congress, showing the dude from Disney examining my music, while the WORDPRESS WEBSITE does not post it up in that way? It is the very same paste up, from the very same page downloaded from the one and only Copyright Office, Mister MICROSUCKS LIGHT-BULB LATTISAW JACK HACK ATTACK BLACK HAT CRACK????

Just exactly what would these ding-a-lings do, if they could not screw with me; old chum, Bob McDowell, of the great Federal Communications Commission??????? WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Speaking of my copyrighted musical projects and the 1988 Dancing McDonald Gang Nothing Prophets; the titles and dates of their registration, tell an awful lot of additional fucking truths about my true story that these blogs have attempted to shout out about for eight and a sixth years now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ISIS-JUPITER HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE

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Public Catalog Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

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Resort results by: Full Title Name Date (ascending) Date (descending)

#	Name (NALL) <	Full Title	Copyright Number	Date
[ 1 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	For the record.	PAu000662409	1984
[ 2 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	I'm Criana.	PAu000724397	1985
[ 3 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.	PAu003351785	2007
[ 4 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Last number repeat--100 progression roulette system.	TXu000514390	1992
[ 5 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Lost love.	PAu000344219	1981
[ 6 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection, set 4.	PAu000546149	1983
[ 7 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection : set III.	PAu000442785	1982
[ 8 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo tunes.	PAu000325091	1981
[ 9 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr tunes.	PAu000411864	1982
[ 10 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Queen of blue.	PAu000825471	1986
[ 11 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Real good girl.	PAu000881543	1986
[ 12 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.	PAu002506106	2000
[ 13 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Saga of song writer Mark Mud.	PAu000501582	1983
[ 14 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	PAu002153196	1996
[ 15 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	SRu000332786	1996
[ 16 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah Callio of ACNJ.	SRu000362114	1997
[ 17 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Uncle.	PAu000540585	1983
[ 18 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	What's wrong?	PAu000724407	1984
[ 19 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	You call this music?	PAu000998574	1987
[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.	PAu001189027	1989
[ 22 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204017	1980
[ 23 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204015	1980
[ 24 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morianity music pre-book.	PAu002336935	1998
[ 25 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morianity tunes of 1998.	PAu002282717	1998

Resort results by: Full Title Name Date (ascending) Date (descending)

Save, Print and Email (Help Page)
Records	Select Format: Full Record Report 1 Latin1 MARC
All on Page Selected On Page Selected all Pages	Enter your email address:

Search for: Search by: Title (omit initial article A, An, The, El, La, Das etc.) Name (Crichton Michael; Walt Disney Company) Keyword Registration Number (for VAu 598-675 type vau000598675) Document Number (for V2606 P87 type v2606p087) Command Keyword Item type: None Recorded Documents Text Serials Music Maps Sound Recordings Computer Files Motion Pictures Visual Materials Kits Mask Works Deposit only monographs Deposit only serials Cancelled Registrations

10 records per page 25 records per page 50 records per page 100 records per page

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Help Search History Titles Start Over

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Contact Us | Request Copies | Get a Search Estimate | Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) about Copyright | Copyright Office Home Page | Library of Congress Home Page

---

Public Catalog Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 26 through 28 of 28 entries.

---

Resort results by: Full Title Name Date (ascending) Date (descending)

#	Name (NALL) <	Full Title	Copyright Number	Date
[ 26 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204016	1980
[ 27 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Same title.	PAu003037983	2005
[ 28 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Thanx to the shadows.	PAu002237985	1997

Resort results by: Full Title Name Date (ascending) Date (descending)

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Records	Select Format: Full Record Report 1 Latin1 MARC
All on Page Selected On Page Selected all Pages	Enter your email address:

Search for: Search by: Title (omit initial article A, An, The, El, La, Das etc.) Name (Crichton Michael; Walt Disney Company) Keyword Registration Number (for VAu 598-675 type vau000598675) Document Number (for V2606 P87 type v2606p087) Command Keyword Item type: None Recorded Documents Text Serials Music Maps Sound Recordings Computer Files Motion Pictures Visual Materials Kits Mask Works Deposit only monographs Deposit only serials Cancelled Registrations

10 records per page 25 records per page 50 records per page 100 records per page

---

Help Search History Titles Start Over

---

Contact Us | Request Copies | Get a Search Estimate | Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) about Copyright | Copyright Office Home Page | Library of Congress Home Page

Save, Print and Email (Help Page)
Records	Select Format: Full Record Report 1 Latin1 MARC
All on Page Selected On Page Selected all Pages	Enter your email address:

Search for: Search by: Title (omit initial article A, An, The, El, La, Das etc.) Name (Crichton Michael; Walt Disney Company) Keyword Registration Number (for VAu 598-675 type vau000598675) Document Number (for V2606 P87 type v2606p087) Command Keyword Item type: None Recorded Documents Text Serials Music Maps Sound Recordings Computer Files Motion Pictures Visual Materials Kits Mask Works Deposit only monographs Deposit only serials Cancelled Registrations

10 records per page 25 records per page 50 records per page 100 records per page

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Help Search History Titles Start Over

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Contact Us | Request Copies | Get a Search Estimate | Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) about Copyright | Copyright Office Home Page | Library of Congress Home Page

I swear on my HUNTINGTON ETERNAL HELL, these things are all accurate and true, so help me as a citizen of the USA, and fear of eternal punishment from Almighty Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, ''GOD'' to you.

THE ALMIGHTY DOW JONES INDUSTRIAL AVERAGES CHART

AND SOMEHOW MYSTERIOUSLY IT ALL CONNECTS UP HERE WITH MY MUSIC!!!!!!!

///////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ 1980 KEYBOARDS FROM PETA-HELL ®

MARK WAYNE MOHR--------1980, ALL BLOGS © 2006-2014

Morianity Bible For Millenium Three:

NOW DOUBLING AS TAPE # 25,737.

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Regional College Of PharmacyApril 30, 2013 at 3:40 AM

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I want to thank you my friend Ken Mascara, Sheriff of Saint Lucie County, you are a wonderful fine gentleman. I am not like the rest of my family who thinks they can just go do anything they want to. You have my vote forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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MARK WAYNE MOHR AND HIS BLOGS FROM JANUARY 2006-PRESENT DAYS:

2006-2014 © MOUNTAINPEN

© MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 2014

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• Morianity Bible For Millenium Three:
• Morianity Foundation
• The Epitome of Harassment - Internet Version
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• RATS, TATS, & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL

About me

Gender	Male
Industry	Non-Profit
Occupation	paranormal researcher
Location	hammonton, new jersey, United States
Introduction	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
Interests	I close my mind to nothing
Favorite Movies	all old movies
Favorite Music	most old music
Favorite Books	gone with the wind, the winds of war, time travelers from our future

You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits? An angry mother. At the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of is that you cannot be sure of anything

NEW BLOG FROM DECEMBER OF 2011, and new DATA:

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My blogs

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• Morianity Foundation
• The Epitome of Harassment - Internet Version
• To Whom It May Concern From The Head Morian
• RATS, TATS, & PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL

About me

Gender	Male
Industry	Non-Profit
Occupation	Retired paranormal researcher
Location	Fort Pierce, Florida, United States
Introduction	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.
Interests	I close my mind to nothing
Favorite Movies	all old movies
Favorite Music	most old music
Favorite Books	gone with the wind, the winds of war, time travelers from our future

You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits? An angry mother, and at the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.

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I LOVE YOU SO VERY MUCH, MY LIGHTNING, LET YOUR WONDERFUL COSMIC CODES SHOW HOW YOU REVEALED TO ME YOU ARE MIDDIE, AND WORKED WITH ME FOR SO LONG, AND PUT UP WIOTH ME, TEEN QUEEN GODDESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING (GODDESS DIANA), SUBMITTED BY A CHANNEL 12 VIEWER, NOW PASTED FROM THEIR TV-APP.

MY BABY-BLOND DIANA ZUDLECRONESSIA ARTEEMIS.

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Hay girl, Leticia Tilley;

Tell me if Marcus Muldanato, is still your bitch???

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OH ENOUGH ABOUT ASSHOLE ME, YO!

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I know you are doing your best to watch over me, AG Mizz Bondi, thank you. Feel free to contact the Wirtz detectives in Camden County in New Jersey, Ron Senior knows my problem is all real, but his hands are tied, I am quite sure that you know what I mean.

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COURTESY OF THE WEATHER BUG!!!

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HELP ME PEE, YOU've been out of here for an entire year now, come the twenty-ninth, find me!!!!!!

HARBORFIELDS DETENTION CENTER, NJ-USA Home | County News | News Videos | Photo Gallery | Directions | Calendar | A - Z | Contact Search Site: Health Social Services Recreation & Leisure Public Safety County Government Planning & Infrastructure Financial Assistance Education & Employment EGG HARBOR CITY'S SECRET DAWN LAUGHING KING'S MAGIC SCHOOL OF GRINS AND TAUNTS, GOOD OLD HARBORFIELDS DETENTION CENTER, AHA-AHA-AHA, REAL FUNNY. NOW UR IN DREAM-LAND!

If anyone can find me PEE, it is e-bay genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!

YOU NEED TO INVENT THE 74-WORLD PENETRATER DEVICE, SO PLEASE TRY AND REMEMBER ALL OF THIS!!!!!!!!!!

TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS are people who are dreaming.

Oh my freaking goddess, was this an incredible 51 months, since my last few days living back at 831 Thirteenth Street, in Hammonton, New Jersey, at the FBI Agent Steve Caruso's rental home, with Ann and Dawn and hubby Chicky, AKA Louis Laines. Holy mother fucking Mariloo Mackadoovirgins!!!!!!

There are some things that need to be said. If things were different, it all would just be said at once, all the really important things. But I learned long ago, doing this is more dangerous to the health and well being, at least for me, than smoking, texting and driving, and cheating on my taxes and bragging about it on Facebook, all put together! To quote the great Billy Harner from New Jersey, timing is everything. We all know this. We've all heard about being in the right place at the right time, then there is what we do not hear so frequently. My situation, and perhaps yours as well once in a blue moon, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. One such time was in 1984, and it all started after Donald J. Trump opened up his first casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey, the Trump Plaza Hotel.

Strange shit is going on, but yesterday as well, same thing was happening, really strange noises, not real loud, are heard all around me. Very powerful and weird new computer hacks are happening and have been from the second that I turned on this fucking computer, also, good people. I want that on the record, old friend from 1972 in Dan Mackey's class at Cooley Hall at school, Bob McDowell, and all other authorities out here who need to do their hob to protect and ensure my civil freaking rights, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!! This is probably going to be one of these real bad days, folks, and my stomach muscles are all tensed up and ready for Mister Houdini's death punch of retaliation. Yes this all started at 7:50 AM on this eleventh day in March, give or take a few minutes. Less than an hour away, is thew middle or second third of the third month. Towards the end, or start points, of anything possibly divided up, I have observed with meticulous precision, that the WOMO-MILITUFORCE, loves to start picking the fuck on me, during these two parts of stuff. It has a modus operandi, and it is very mathematical. I call it magnetic percentage technology and have, since about 1984; but let us go back now, and speak about both exploratrons, as well as 1984; when these things were really getting going, both in my life, and also, in the general population of our entire race of life in this particular atomic universe.

MARCH 11, 2014,

TUESDAY MORNING AT 7:08,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE, 57 DEGREES FNHT.

Between the shit they did to me in the casinos and the shit they were stealing, these mobbed up Sinatra fucking jerk off PIGS, in league with dirt bag Donald, enjoyed messing with me illegally, every chance they got. It began when George Belton first took me to Resorts Casino in Atlantic City, and introduced me to casino-roulette playing. From there things were down hill all the way, leading to my first trip to Florida one year after George first began doing this in December of 1982, during my final months at 1802 Robin Farm-Outside-of-Future-Haddonfield Hill Apartments, in Voorhees, New Jersey. The mysterious Warwick Auto Sales, owned by the even more mysterious Mister Everett Simpson, well, this is a story that could go on for 1000 Moby Dick sized books, and I don't plan on boring you. I call this the end of 82 set up that led to the land of mystery, or for short, the EO1982SUTLTTLOM, my own little coded alpha-numeric private, and one of so very many; headings to outlined stories for future postings, when things are more in the swing for telling the world about these things, one by one. I can say without a question, that even beyond my choking condition that lasted for life, and my nightmare crossover into hell in 1986 from some weird strange ''dreaming'', that these two invents, huge as they are; both are simply existing inside of this even larger truth, and that being, this early December of 1982 situation at this auto repair garage place near the intersection of the White Horse Pike and Warwick road, in Magnolia, New Jersey; and just a little over a mile away from Robin Hill Apartments Complex; and I knew this all along, but when it came t doing blogs, I never actually made it appear this way, focusing much more on the two large incidents that followed my becoming connected with these people there, the owner Mister Simpson, and then his two side kicks, Herby Letts, and George Belton. Herby worked for Simpson, while George was the weird 'hang-around' guy, and had no connections with the place. I was there to purchase a vehicle to allow me to get the money I needed to leave that horrible Debbie Harry and her friend and their horrific loud weekend parties, and move out of there and into Atco, New Jersey. So I needed to take my nicer vehicle, and trade down on it, so that I could put the needed moving cash into my pocket, and this is exactly what I did back then, and how these folks and I all managed to cross paths, Mister Redfield. There is some real loud hallway yelling at 7:26, suppose the fawces of Mister Hall do not want me talking about Everett Simpson, the man of mysteries. You only know a tiny smattering of things that could have landed me in prison, there is a lot to this powerful story, most will not be talked about for reasons of my obvious safety, both from highly dangerous people, and even, problems with the law which I certainly do not need, despite the statues of limitation, I believe, running out on what was done, but in case certain tings such as murder do not ever run out, and no, there was no murder; still, I am not sure what is covered in this cold period, so I am keeping quiet. Now the real joke is on me, as it normally is, and I just got a major computer hack, bob McDowell again, at 7:32, and am about to go BOTBAR today, as this is real mother fucking bad. Then in the middle of these two major hacking periods, was the hallway shouting which has not been bad for days. Something is going down around me and a fucking cunt retarded child with a runny snotty nose should be able to see it, if paying any attention to this shit whatsoever.

Not even two years after I met these creepy weird people, it was spring time somewhere in 1984, and Trump was going to open his casino called the PLAZA, his very first one, in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Why I could not tell you in a million years, but I wanted to go down on opening day, and began to drive from my residence to the casino in Atlantic City. I was living right back at the Robin Hill allover again, for my second out of three total stays in this hellish nightmare place, other than for my first 14-24 months there in 1980 and most of 1981 when that mysterious incident happened that I blogged several times about, where magically, that evil Playboy bunny just popped up out of the blue one night, right after somebody heard me tell my mom in that bugged apartment, that I was going to have my friend Jim Burr look at the place downstairs as he is interested in renting it. It was all fake, I had handed her a note to read, telling her to just play along and I then winked at her, and then I went off to work, and when I came back for the river at the Mac Andrews and Forbes Plant where I did security guard work there, a light was on in the apartment,and she had moved in just in those hours while I was working. But this is old news, and we are on the exploratron subject recently, and need to discuss what pertains most to this, not that she and her friends were not also, host bodies to inter-dimensional exploratrons coming awake in them from their controlled dreams in their own parallel universes. Still I am more interested in discussing another person who I know had an exploratron inside of him, the young dude gasoline station owner in Hammonton, New Jersey, named Jerry, back in 1984. My mother told me he has to be on drugs, but looking back, NO HE DIDN'T HAVE TO BE ON DRUGS. Many weird acting folks are, maybe the majority of them are; but some of them, ladies and gentlemen, are not. Instead they are what in the old days would be called ''possessed''. They are what in the new age Ufology days would be called controlled abductees. Neither of these things are real, but what is happening is very real. THEY HAVE AN ACTIVE TYPE-2-EXPLORATRON INSIDE OF THEM, asleep in their universe, and over here in ours, they have taken control over the person, and can do all sorts of stuff to many innocent people, by using these basic sleep walkers as pawns and tools and puppets and yes I'll say it, AS WEAPONS! Another possibility for why people suddenly go and shoot up malls and schools and work places, and you name it. This Jerry made my life, and the life of my poor mom, a total hell. He was being controlled by my cousin Donald. First, on the way down to his hotel and casino, somehow, he had my car blow up, and I barely made it to this gasoline station, the one in Hammonton, owned by this Jerry character. This all was totally planned out millions of years ago. He ended up putting a new engine in the vehicle, a total joke, as the car was 10 times worse when the job was done, than before; and twice, my mom and I went to pick it up, and ended up taking the bus down to his station, breaking down 2 blocks away or less, and waiting for a bus right back home again. He had us literally going out of our minds, and the entire state was in on all of our miseries, as just from watching shows on TV like Judge Judy, I know that these repeating incidents that happened to us for 20 plus years back in Jersey, just does not happen and that innocent folks who get totally scammed and ripped off do have some legal recourse, yet each time we tried talking to anyone about getting any, we were just fucked and fucked and fucked, all the more. If you live in Jersey, have big name enemies, and have no one in your corner to fight for you such as a politician or three in your pocket, you might as well dig a hole and jump in, or move the hell far away, as did fucking cunt eating I, back in December of 'OHM-9'.

This Jerry character was literally, over a period of 10 weeks or so, making my life and the life of my mother, a living burning nightmare fucking hell, and no one anywhere would or could seem to help us against this horrible fucking sick young monster, who held the power of life and death, literally over our heads, and was actually torturing us and our pathetic lives in ways inconceivable. Everyone needs a car, and he was keeping us from having ours. And this all started, because I wanted to go down to TRUMPS NEW HOTEL CASINO in springtime 1984. Where is Yogi Berra and his non belief in coincidences, when you truly need him, Mister Voicemail Walmart, sir????????????????????

Now this was all right after I had met and interacted with the throat specialist in northeast Philadelphia, and his magical lovely young lab-tech assistant. He seemed to do the very same thing with her, up in the future by 20 years give or take, that he did only a few years away with Donna Summer, naming his ugly harbor tub, the PRINCESS, right after I copyrighted my EPITOME OF HARASSMENT PROJECTS, really the first one in 1988, misspelled on the copyright forms, and is why the words 'sic' appear on the title block on these forms that I now will re-post so that you can all see; which stands for Spelled In-Correctly. When patters continue to reflect a repeating item of anything is happening, the odds increase exponentially, that it is all just up in someone's mind or just a big ass fucking coincidence. One time, that's one thing, but then there came Mister Macy. Now at this point of things, I was at Jenny's Park and living a hermits life, not yet blogging on the net, as I had yet to meet Chris Bennett, who started all of this by telling me that maybe I need to do this to tell my story. But my real point on all of this is that all this time I had no clue how this was all done, or even a clue as to why. Now with the ESS, it all comes together so incredibly, that to quote the CCR Band of the sixties, I can feel this thing's fucking disease. And no, Jane and her weeds are not the only disease in town, not with all of this shit for the past 30-60 mother fucking years, great folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAT'S UP DOC? SILWEE WABBIT ME.

HIGHLIGHTED IN THIS COLOR, FOLKS, TO SHOW YOU!

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Public Catalog Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

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Resort results by: Full Title Name Date (ascending) Date (descending)

#	Name (NALL) <	Full Title	Copyright Number	Date
[ 1 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	For the record.	PAu000662409	1984
[ 2 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	I'm Criana.	PAu000724397	1985
[ 3 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.	PAu003351785	2007
[ 4 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Last number repeat--100 progression roulette system.	TXu000514390	1992
[ 5 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Lost love.	PAu000344219	1981
[ 6 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection, set 4.	PAu000546149	1983
[ 7 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection : set III.	PAu000442785	1982
[ 8 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo tunes.	PAu000325091	1981
[ 9 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr tunes.	PAu000411864	1982
[ 10 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Queen of blue.	PAu000825471	1986
[ 11 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Real good girl.	PAu000881543	1986
[ 12 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.	PAu002506106	2000
[ 13 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Saga of song writer Mark Mud.	PAu000501582	1983
[ 14 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	PAu002153196	1996
[ 15 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	SRu000332786	1996
[ 16 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah Callio of ACNJ.	SRu000362114	1997
[ 17 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Uncle.	PAu000540585	1983
[ 18 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	What's wrong?	PAu000724407	1984
[ 19 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	You call this music?	PAu000998574	1987
[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.	PAu001189027	1989
[ 22 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204017	1980
[ 23 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204015	1980
[ 24 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morianity music pre-book.	PAu002336935	1998
[ 25 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morianity tunes of 1998.	PAu002282717	1998

Resort results by: Full Title Name Date (ascending) Date (descending)

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Search for: Search by: Title (omit initial article A, An, The, El, La, Das etc.) Name (Crichton Michael; Walt Disney Company) Keyword Registration Number (for VAu 598-675 type vau000598675) Document Number (for V2606 P87 type v2606p087) Command Keyword Item type: None Recorded Documents Text Serials Music Maps Sound Recordings Computer Files Motion Pictures Visual Materials Kits Mask Works Deposit only monographs Deposit only serials Cancelled Registrations

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Public Catalog Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 26 through 28 of 28 entries.

---

Resort results by: Full Title Name Date (ascending) Date (descending)

#	Name (NALL) <	Full Title	Copyright Number	Date
[ 26 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204016	1980
[ 27 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Same title.	PAu003037983	2005
[ 28 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Thanx to the shadows.	PAu002237985	1997

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THE WEATHER BUG,

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Yes I do not know if it is my upstairs kookie nabes, but lots of weird shit noise is coming from their place the past two days; and is getting on my nerves. WHAAAAA!

What folks do not know or understand, is anything about the ESS. This is not a bunch of aliens from distant expansion points that access wormholes or any other silliness. This is all EXPLORATRONS of the TYPE-3 advanced section, and nothing is being done for good or for bad, but merely all is a huge GAME, and this is to distract those who know, that there is no way to ever reach oblivion, ''NIRVANA''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHY NOT GET TO KNOW ABOUT MY MAJOR recurring nightmare school, THAT WAS FINALLY FOUND WHILE I WAS KINDNAPPED BY THE MIGHTY KING BRANCH OF TAWF-70, YOUR EM!!!!!!!!!!

Home | County News | News Videos | Photo Gallery | Directions | Calendar | A - Z | Contact Search Site: Health Social Services Recreation & Leisure Public Safety County Government Planning & Infrastructure Financial Assistance Education & Employment

Atlantic County, New Jersey Atlantic County Government Web Site Public Safety

	Atlantic County GovernmentDEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC SAFETY Youth Detention, Harborfields

DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC SAFETY YOUTH DETENTION Buffalo Ave. & Duerer St. Egg Harbor City, NJ 609-965-3583 609-965-7962 (FAX) Kimery Lewis, Superintendent Wayne Ford, Assistant Superintendent Program Description Mission Statement Program Goals Primary Services Admission Criteria Visiting Hours Dept. of Public Safety Home Page YOUTH DETENTION - HARBORFIELDS

PROGRAM DESCRIPTION Harborfields operates under the auspices of the County of Atlantic, Department of Public Safety and is managed, under contract, by the State of New Jersey, Department of Law and Public Safety, Juvenile Justice Commission. Harborfields is located on Buffalo Avenue and Duerer Street in the City of Egg Harbor, New Jersey. The Program serves male and female juveniles between the ages of 12 and 18 awaiting court review for disposition, trial or other court action. The facility has 8 secure beds for females and 19 secure beds for males. MISSION STATEMENT Harborfields provides a secure, safe, clean and healthy environment for court-detained youth. The dedicated staff of Harborfields are consistent, tolerant individuals who work as team players. Leading by example, the staff is able to provide to difficult youth much needed self-discipline, respect for self and others and personal responsibility. Through education and rehabilitation, emotional support, stability and structure, the youth at Harborfields are dealt with as individuals. At Harborfields the program prepares its youth to reenter the community or to enter into Juvenile Justice Commission programs. With the use of effective treatment methods, Harborfields is making a difference in the lives of youth. PROGRAM GOALS Harborfields meets the needs of the community as a secure facility for juveniles who have been deemed unsuitable for release pending court appearance. Harborfields also works to stabilize juveniles by structuring their day with educational activities. PRIMARY SERVICES 1. Counseling Component - Guided Group Interaction is conducted daily by two staff for approximately 1 hour per session. Individual Counseling is provided as needed by staff social workers. 2. Academic Education, Special Education and GED preparation are provided by the Atlantic County Special Services School District with the expectation that youth will return to the regional public school or transitional school. 3. Drug and Alcohol Counseling as well as Narcotics Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous sessions are provided through the County Youth Services Commission, as needed. 4. Recreation and Athletics are conducted in the facility gymnasium by the Physical Education Teacher provided by the Atlantic County Special Services School District. 5. Sex Education and Parenting classes are provided by an on-site Program Specialist. 6. Community involvement is maintained through special events which include speakers such as the Mayors of Atlantic City and Egg Harbor, members of the police department, and people from other walks of life. 7. In House Detention Program - The facility manages a 10 slot program which places youth onhouse arrest under the shared supervision of parents and detention officers. The intention is to have the youth continue in usual community activities pending court appearance. ADMISSION CRITERIA Upon arrest, a juvenile must be seen by Juvenile Intake for determination of detainable offense which would result in the youth being remanded to Harborfields. VISITING HOURS Sunday 1:00 PM - 3:00 PM - Family & Friends Thursday 7:00 PM - 8:00 PM - Parents Only Visitation Requirements: Visitors must present proper ID Visitors under 18 must be accompanied by an adult. No former residents are allowed to visit. Special visits available upon request, with approval of the Superintendent.

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And if I know so much about what DREAMS really are, then why have I not as of yet chosen to discuss the topic of what causes the serial and recurring and dream within dreams, dreams, you may be all wondering right about now, so allow me please to tell you the answer. I will do my very best, so here goes, good folks, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rigsby's dad, in that great television show called, ''The Mentalist'', saw his son burning his entire stash of illegal cigarets, and said to him, ''Did you burn my whole stash boy'', and the CBI Agent Rigsby said right back to him, ''YIP''. But there is a much more powerful thing involved here, and it pertains to these various type of DREAMS, as remember, and you can archive this at the end of my 2007 AND EARLY 2008 BLOGS BACK ON THE ORIGINAL BLOGSITE, or go to http:www.mountainpen.wordpress.com/ where this fuck up never happened and my blog goes all the way back to almost near the beginning, and then you would need to use the link to go all the way back, which is as follows:

http:www.theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/

As you see people, I dreamed THE MENTALIST SHOW before there was THE MENTALIST SHOW, or shall I say, I dreamed Patrick Jane, who I never ever knew in this life. He was a repairman and an accomplished games expert, as my blogs called him. From this, the show suddenly magically just popped up. All the things he did in these dreams, he came to do, and he acted just the very same way as his character that this TV show portrayed. Again, Yogi Berra puts it so much better than I could have, there are things that no sane mind is going to believe is just a mere coincidence, or let us do one better. Get into trouble with the law and have some much smaller coincidences that are part of your situation, come up to bite you in the butt cheeks, and see how big or how many of these random happenstance items, the police and the prosecutor chooses to believe. They only deny it if they don't want to be bothered helping someone such as myself, with my weird problems, that they already know, as a result of the great closed BLUEBOOK, CANNOT BE SOLVED. Hay this is not their fault, and so I hold no resentments or blame in any way, towards them, but I am making a good point here, that if you find yourself in a reverse table situation, and you are on the end that contains the dogshit and piss juice rather than the prime rib and mashed potatoes, you'll get a quick banging shock of these words all being 100% accurate. I should know, Shirley Lymphglands from 1983 and 1984!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes that great show, ''The Mentalist'', and the episode where Rigsby gets into that fistfight with his father, is what is being discussed here, in this haunted hulked out, non 1979 RPL STUDIO nightmare of wild nearby houses and monster chemtrails, has a great deal to do with these various abnormal 'dreaming-experiences'. My incredible serial nightmares took place in Ventnor, New Jersey, during my 19 day and night stay at a home where I thought I was going to be a plumber's assistant. I ended up being a child molestation victim, and left this place on the night of 12 July, in 1970, but the dreams are what we are discussing, not my sick twisted woes, right Joe Twist and Dawn-Marie King? All I am going to say for now is that this was a different situation with the meeting of this family or ''CONTACT'' exploratronically with the ESS, and the later experiences of both very late in 1971 while in David Leigh Smith's ''Blackboard-Zenkiss'' class, and then following that by a few years still, where I would be asleep in the dead on night and wake up in pitch darkness with some presence in the bedroom that was beyond terrifying. Many have had this happen, and many have it happen with sufficient frequency so as they will not ever sleep without a night light or a hallway light on and the bedroom door cracked enough to see this light. I would find the courage to run for the light that was on my desk lamp in front of my bed next to the window, only it would not go on when I, turned it on, and I was bonkers crazy by then, only to find myself back in the bed, and that I had not really awakened wand was still frozen scared out of my fucking wits. Again, believing that THIS TIME, I REALLY WAS AWAKE, I ran for the light again, and again, it would not go on, and I was out of my mind in panic, only to realize, hay jerk off, you still are in your bed and are dreaming this nightmare, and have yet to get up and turn that damn ass fucking light on. This would go on and on, ten maybe twenty times, and finally, the light would go on, if it really did, and the nightmare was over, if it really ever ended. Some believe I died of pure fright in my sleep, and this is fucking hell. Who can ever know, it just might fucking be?

Jupiter, Florida, welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.

ALONG WITH THE GREAT WEATHER BUG APP, WEEEE!

JOHN J CROWLEY, Mister Tow-truck Ripoff dude from 1979, WOW, where did it all really begin?

Nearby Offender: Thomas Giordano »

John J Crowley's entire criminal record

The man who ripped me off in 1979 with the tow truck deal:

Last Known Address: 1201 ROBERTS WAY, VOORHEES, NJ, 08043
Race:	White
Sex:	Male			Eyes:	Blue
Height:	6'0			Hair:	Brown
Weight	205 lbs.			Age/DOB:	4/12/1947

Offense or Statute

Offense/Statute: ENDANGERING THE WELFARE OF A CHILD Disposition Date: 29 March 1996

Alias(es)

JOHN CROWLEY:JOHN H SPROWL

Collected from this official state registry website or page:

https://www16.state.nj.us/LPS_spoff/individualResults.jsp Report An Error »

*No representation is made that the person listed here is currently on the state's offenders registry. All names presented here were gathered at a past date. Some persons listed might no longer be registered offenders and others might have been added. Some addresses or other data might no longer be current. Owners of Homefacts.com assume no responsibility (and expressly disclaim responsibility) for updating this site to keep information current or to ensure the accuracy or completeness of any posted information. Accordingly, you should confirm the accuracy and completeness of all posted information before making any decision related to any data presented on this site. The information on this web site is made available solely to protect the public. Anyone who uses this information to commit a crime or to harass an offender or his or her family is subject to criminal prosecution and civil liability.

More Nearby Offenders

« Stephen Loatman

Thomas Giordano »

Nearby Schools

Osage

0.78 Miles Away

Horace Mann

0.95 Miles Away

Eastern High

1.00 Miles Away

Eastern Intermediate High School

1.00 Miles Away

Cherry Hill Regional School

1.35 Miles Away

Voorhees Township, NJ

5 Offenders Found

137 foreclosures Found

Total Crime Rating 60.51 

Environmental Concerns Found!

2012 Test Scores are Available!

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Where will all of this hell ever end, BREEE????????? DUH, how can anyone ever know such things, pray-tell?????

The power of three, right electrician Joe Mac Andrews, and lovely Pink House Witches of Non-Warren Grove, New Jersey? Did you say, ''Sleep tight, Sarah Kessel lookalike'', Mister Dave Roth???????????????????????????

How do you live with yourselves, T---A---W---F?

Well it is just past nine of the clock, time for me to rap this all up and post. I have nothing at all against anyone. It is so many other folks who totally hate my guts, and the reason is so obvious, that David Roth plucked it right out of the lyrics of the old 1988 copyrighted music project I sent down to Washington while residing in Moorestown, New Jersey, USAESMWG. Still, that day in early 1962 at the Richland Grammar School of Quakertown, Pennsylvania, USAESMWG, taught me not to put 100% stock even into those great lyrics, if I do have to say so myself. I tried to do it worse as well, and got into the same amount of trouble, © Office, so go figure, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!

55555555555555555555555555555555

And the games begin. Things were quiet, but as soon as my MIND CONNECTON began working, the sixth dimension to my physical world human brain, for lack of any other way of putting this; things began to start instantly. This is what I used to mislabel as ''They're reading my mind and fucking with me''. It is a very automated bunch of fucking hell that is all going on around us all, and me included, as in that respect, I am no different than any one of you. I differ only in this hell I must endlessly fucking endure, and my weird ability to keep persisting through time and surviving it, which led me to total enlightenment, not to mean for a second that I know it all. Enlightenment to some basic truths has nothing what so fucking ever to do with knowledge regarding individual things in the physical world. A brain is a brain, and whether it be a little bigger or better physically than a somewhat punier brain, it is basically a ten watt receiving element from the sixth dimension, and you just cannot put ten million watts into a ten watt item, this would be tantamount to thinking you can go buy amplifiers and hook them up together like a professional musician on a large stage, totally say 10,000 watts, and then hooking these into output audio monitors or (speakers) that only total 10 watts of power handling ability. So even though the newest thing being discussed in the scientific community is varying formulas regarding how much can ever be known due to some various unbreakable codes that are all somehow built into cosmos, the real truth is the double knowledge horizon barrier, caused by this wattage example given here. Even the collective of all of humanity forever, is a one watt speaker on a book shelf, and the total absolute system of knowable items comes from a source putting out billions of these parable-watts. This causes the mirage that the more we learn, we see that there is so much more to learn, like holding two small cardboard rectangles in front of our face, and each time you move the one closer to your eyes one inch further away so you can see more, you need to move the other piece that is further away, 5 inches more away. Long Story Short (LSS), folks; we CANNOT ever know so much, that knowing all we ever could, would be basically meaningless, in the real absolute big picture of everything, and we would be just about where we all are right now, at best; if we could reach that point. What Morianity will do, if it is ever meant to, and it won't if it is n ot meant to, and who can ever know; is stop all that talk about supernatural verbiage, you know, demons and devils, possession, miracles, heaven and hell, and along this line, and also simultaneously, put to a quick halt, all the new so called replacements for these old times items, you know, aliens, extraterrestrial visitations, abductions, little gray's interfering with humanity, and along that line, as well. There is one powerful truth and always has been and always will be, and you know what I am going to say next, or really, you have no reason to be wasting your time up here on my blogs reading me. I speak of the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY. Those such as my old pal mister Baptest, who prefer to insist that MIND is not EVERYTHING, that other THINGS OUT BEYOND IT is what it is all about, will never alter their opinions. MIND is what created space and time, hence SPACE-TIME-MIND or STM for a short abbreviation, and this is truth no matter what and n o matter who loves this or hates this. Since MIND is on a higher dimension than the hyperspace, and sends itself therefore down into the multiverse of virtually unlimited 4-D space-time universes that all vibrate differently on a powerful subatomic level, then this has to be the truth, and no math formula can or ever will, disprove my words, and or Morianity.

THIS IS TAPE JOURNAL 25,735.

So now that we are not ever going to use the old accepted language from either of these two very yesterday ideas in the eyes of MORIANITY, bear in mind please, that the blogs that now continue along, will speak only in the true language that I could have used all along, for more than eight years; but needed to walk anyone interested in all my shit, through this first IN THEIR LANGUAGE AND BASED ON STUFF THAT THEY CAN RELATE TO, but now, you CAN RELATE, to the language of Morianity, and this will be used therefore from now on. I never said I won't bring up these older terms, you know what I am trying to say, without me wasting another three pages trying to make it more simple or more palatable for any of you, BRO!

We are going to discuss on this blog, my basic five years where things all changed forever, on Mark Wayne Mohr Street, and on Wall Street, setting up the most incredible thing in the universe that for reasons obvious only to me it appears; only I see clearly and am totally aware of. I am speaking of 1982 through 1986.

Many readers, or said more accurately, the large percentage of the readers, as the word many makes me a fucking liar right off the dam ass bat; but the vast majority who entertain Morianity, or entertain themselves by reading it, either or; yuk yuk yuk, McNulty dude from 42 and a half years back into time at Exton, PAUSAESMWG; are slowly, whether they know or or not or like it or not, changing. Everything we do changes and effects us, without an option. This being said, if my read count drops to total zero and bye-bye, then I will know more than anything else, that indeed, Morianity has accomplished quite a bit on humanity's collective consciousness, but I seriously doubt this to be the case, great folks. So the magic period of these five years, must be about something, or someone '(entity) whatever' Oak Street Bob old pal and ex-country vocalist, of 1975-1980; and it also needs to be about another tangible and intelligently arguable item in waking world reality, and it is; AN AGENDA, and whose? Little men from Jukaten Heights-4893FJBE? No sir. Powerful businessmen on Wall Street in Manhattan and other world owners all by their little lonesomes? Gimme; a break. The various top five to ten global governments or one international overseeing force? Get real. But put all of these and many other similar ideas together, and you suddenly can find yourself driving along on a hot summers day on a blacktop road seeing some water ahead of you that you never seem to reach, with or without transdimensional relatives trying to do a McKinnon on you or maybe I should say, a Dawn Matchbook King, and not the Gawnum type of matchbook, peeps; AHA! So what is the big deal of these five years in the period and history of my personal life, again, 1982 through 1986? First off, this transition period on Wall Street in the great stock markets of the world, recognize this period as every bit as huge as my claims on this blog are doing, they would if forced to speak these truths anyway, as for if not forced to, it is quite doubtful they'd ever say or do anything that would open this ten cubic light year box of cosmic worm cans and hornets nests, huh my 'latengrate' friend, Mister David Roth?

MARCH 10, 2014,

MONDAY MORNING AT 4:28,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE, 59 DEGREES FNHT.

The first of three times living at the Robin Hill Apartments in Voorhees, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG, is a very powerful and important part of MORIANITY, and my life story; and always freaking will be!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The year of 1982 was the final year of this first rental there, moving in on May 1, 1980, and leaving on January 31, 1983. This also has a connection to a powerful DREAM or exploratronic situation back nearly ten years earlier, and when the place was still Jersey farm land. The dream, with who else but the great and powerful TAWF, (That Astral World Family) from the serial recurring nightmares back in 1970 while I was staying at the home of child molester, Thomas J. Reale, on Cornwall Avenue, in Ventnor, New Jersey, had these same wild characters in it and that were interacting with me, and somehow without speaking to me ever in direct language, I just KNEW certain things that they were TELLING ME, or LETTING ME BECOME AWARE OF, whichever best resembles a closer truth and reality, and unlike the first experiences with them in 1970 where they identified themselves to me in this sort of telepathic and magical way, as THAT FAMILY, hence my name for them on these eight plus years of my blogs; but later on by a year or maybe 14-18 months give or take from original ''contact'', they come and use the two terms of ''The destruction of Haddonfield'', and also, ''The farm outside of Haddonfield that will destroy you''. This of course is the future Robin Hill. Believe what you like anyone out here, BUT I KNOW, and I would swear to all of this in court, on this very morning; and I would say this is all totally real and true, if taken to the Oval Office later today and asked for verification of these posted words, by the President of these United States, himself. Why? Because it is the fucking total absolute undeniable fucking truth that's dam why, BRAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I needed to state some of the powerful things that happened both at, as well as long before; I ever resided on this great DESTRUCTIVE FARM, OUTSIDE OF HADDONFIELD, NEW JERSEY; 9 YEARS IN THE FUTURE, from when the exploratronic contact, made me privy to this all happening in my future, as it did all come to pass, and took decades and a brand new century and then some, for all of it to properly sink in and make some sense in my pathetic fucked up and totally twisted life. It was only about 5 weeks from moving into this place on May 1 of 1980, that I had that incredible exploratronic experience with SARAH KRASSLE, who sang a lovely special song to me, called, ''Love Is For Carpenters'', and never allowed me to catch onto who she really was for many years to come, and even then, it took a lifetime to put it all together enough to really think that finally, most of the pieces are perfectly all fitting together. This led to the powerful exploratronic event of seeing Gawky Gaukauk on a bus being held in a heavy set woman's lap, on a bus, and where they exited this bus at a street corner somewhere in Philadelphia in some neighborhood well outside the central city area itself, and entered into a bar, and I for whatever reason was tagging along with them, and this cat meowed the word ''DIE'' three times to me while still on the bus, and many of you know the full story, which is not germane to this blog and present moment. Within a short space of time, the PLAYBOY BUNNY and her ENTERTAINMENT MAFIA CASINO PALS moved in below me and had huge parties with limos parked all around the place, every mother fucking weekend. My mom and I could not take this shit any longer, and we broke our lease on a medical technicality, signed off by Doctor Edmund Housel of Philadelphian, our family PCP before there were such PC things as PCP's. This is when I moved with my mom to that split level home in Atco, New Jersey, and plugged in a machine that was not from this world, called, PRIVECODE, well, I was told by an electronics expert, nearly two decades later, that the electronics inside of it were ''totally alien'' to quote his words. I used it to communicate with LIGHTNING. This is all you need to know for now regarding any of this, and you may already know a lot about this from reading my blogs for years, if you are an older follower, from back when my blogs were before this current one that Meghan my computer guru, helped me get up after a major hack on the BLOGGER DOT COM WEBSITE occurred back late in the year of 2011, closing down my older five blogs, and I now can only cut and paste these archived blogs into this new blogs, and do this, upon numerous occasions.

As for the details on many wild things that went down in 1982 through 1986, this is scattered around on a million words of old blogs, but now with new terms and labels, I will do sort of a compressed book report. This I feel is urgent at this point, and if I did not feel that way, then I wold not be wasting my time doing this. The ESS had all of these wild things of this 5 year period, all planned out millions of years ago. To them, time is as meaningless and moaningless as you or I deciding to watch the Science Channel on television today, or driving over to the beach for a swim. Totally meaningless. They can do anything they want to do, and they do it because they can do it, asnd they enjoy doing it, and it keeps their minds off of something that nonem of you can properly understand, if I explained it over and over and over and over, because as human beings alive in a mirage, you would see the way you see so many other things; IN TOTAL REVERSE TRUTH. Still, my point to this, is that there are some non ESS powers and power structures, that do in fact know quite a bit of the secrets in Morianity, and this is WHAT THEY ARE COVERING UP, AND WILL GO RIGHT ON COVERING UP, IF THEY HAVE TO KILL YOU AND YOUR FAMILY AND YOUR FRIENDS OR BURN DOWN YOUR BUSINESS OR YOUR HOME, or whatever it takes, and I will make a wild statement here now, wilder than the one I just made. I can totally understand their point of view. I didn't fucking cunt say, I AGREED WITH their method of madness, only that I do indeed, TOTALLY FUCKING UNDERSTAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHORE FUCKING JANE SHITHEAD NOTFONDAUONEBIT JUST NAILED ME GOOD, WITH PAGE ELEVEN OF ELEVEN, SO LET ME COMPENSATE FOR HER FUCKING EXPLORATRONIC ATTACK THAT I APPEAR absolutely powerless to combat, am I right or am I not right, LOVELY LADIES AND GENTLERMEN OUT HERE FOR 8+ YEARS, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO??????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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SUCH A GREAT COSMIC NUMBER, 'STEW' MASON.

Jupiter, Florida, welcomes you to Morianity; Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.

HERE WE GO AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bobby McDowell of Fort Wayne, Indiana, United States of America, ESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My posting of the Jupiter inlet is always coming out blurry, yet on the real website itself, it does not. Another hack given to me by that lovely group of nice fine fellows and lassies, the groovy wonderful WOMO-MILITUFAWCE, Huh, Mister Hall and Uncle Goukas Stew??? Don't even think of messing with my GODDESS MIDDIE, & that goes for my great CUZZ as well; Mike McNulty sir, AHA-AHA!!!!!!

For the record and getting on with Thirty-Fourth miraculous clauses, cases, and Patty Hollister's from 1975; permit me UNCLE ON BENT GOZZWALD KNEES HEINZ, to just say this little squib here, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you for helping my mother and I move to 1118 Linden Flashlight Stairwell Hill Apartments on March 1, 1975, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!

OH WOW AND SHIT And all the rest of it, when will you leave me alone, you rotten whore Jane?????????????? OUCH, YOU MONSTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now as for the chocking condition given to me in early June of 1983, how else was the great LAB-TECH going to enter into my life, and become any kind of believable freaking possibility; Elizabeth Montgomery, oh yeah, sorry, I forgot; don't want to use Patty's candles to talk to her, WEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

But still, pain or no pain, let us get into 1983 and 1984, as just as 1980 through 1982 all led up to fucking shit that brought my life into what it was in 1983 and 1984, so also were these years there, to bring me into the great and powerful Uncle Ozzwald Babylonian at 175 Peninsula Drive, needed to bring my life into the unfathomable years of 1985 and 1986. After this, the ESS period of transition had completed, and even the skies changed, as all UFOLOGISTS totally know. What they refuse to understand is that I know why it all went down, and they don't have a mother fucking rats ass clue, and it makes me want to cry like a turd chewing little baby, good peeps!!!!!

OH JESUS CHRIST CARPENTER, am I going to be TELLING HUGE FUCKING SECRETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh by gash by golly, Cooley hall is filled with worm holes and tree angels, and to think I actually was gicven the clue in twenty-ten about the numbers of 2 and 22, huh Sarah Watergate Jacobson Jehovah, my endless teen queen goddess????????? The ESS is nothing to take lightly good folks. Treat it as you would a house filled with angry Dobbies and Pit Bulls and you're about to get fucking pushed into this place with no escape. Sound like fun? Sound like my life a little bit, YO????????????????

Now in rapping this blog up, believe this. All this shit about these five major years could be the start of a brand new entire mother fucking blog. It won't be, I'm just saying! The crap that's gonna' fucking be explored is gonna' take all of you who are willing to open up your minds and go along with me, into uncharted territory that even Shitner and his daddy-auto late eighties kid has never been. Don't worry, I don't expect a thank you letter, not now, not ever, you ton of whale manure.

''BE BLUNT, OR BE IGNORED; ASHAME BUT TRUE''

VERY FUCKING ASHAME, AND TOTALLY ACCURATE!!!

I am going to off beddie-bye, good peeps.

Even when I am totally in your fucking face and flat out blunt as all shit cubed in Daddy's Cuba, Dawny TPB Terra, they don't hear, Uncle Jesus Carpenter and great U.S. © Office, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!

OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT, did somebody just say oh stink to hell, YO???????

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 59 DEGREES FNHT.

Feels 100! Actually that is a lie, it feels sort of OK tonight. TEE-HEE-HEE, Lilly Munster!!!

The humidity has been 100% for days, Lilly!

So why when I started to watch 'L&O' on the WE CHANNEL, did they take it off directly after I enjoyed it one night a week or so back? They don't want me happy, do they doctor Garrigan? Also, Paula Uwich warned me about that rotten family, and they are pals with my wonderful daughter, I know this, without paying over nine grand for your fucked up psychic service, phony lady. Hang around, all Paula's, the Huntington's have a way of catching up with people, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. You're not gonna' send me a fifteen year old, Paula? I don't want you to, you crazy little bitch. Enjoy your home all fixed up and lovely, with MY MONEY. How do you sleep at night? Just how long is the Camden County New Jersey 911 system gonna' keep the great secrets of the murderers in my rotten ass family, huh Sarah Slut Callio?

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 143

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2297

SBT-DATFILE: CH-143-050711.971.55 AKA (May 7, 2011) WHAAAAA!

THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

BLOG SUTITLE 3: “STILL PICKING ON ME, YOU MUST

HAVE ONE POWERFUL DEATH WISH MY FRIENDS”

COPYRIGHT MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN/MWM/

2006-2011----(THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN)

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

Ed Lynch was a strange old dog my friends and fiends out there. Ann Silva told me on the telephone just the other day, that she never heard anything from him, and wonders if he remains in lock up, or is now out of the hotel. The Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office has my legally paid for website on his laptop's hard-drive. His machine was legally confiscated back in the summer time somewhere or early autumn, in the OH-MAROLA-NINE year. For those who wonder why I use this term, you should access my archived blogging texts at the site of www.blogger.com, in case you are not even reading these words on this site, as I post here, and to other internet spots. In case you won't do this, I had several teachers in 1969 at a Haddonfield, New Jersey, special education school, who both made some statements to me that would have no possible rational explanation for being in fact made to me, one especially to a boy not yet even fifteen years of age, that would at least in today's world, would be considered quite inappropriate, and in my opinion, sufficient grounds for getting a teacher suspended or canned completely. We need not get into that one, but as for the dates being called what I do from time to time, this teacher by the name of Misses Marola, always refered to years in this 21^st century as for example, 2004 would be spoken as two thousand four. Now bear in mind that this was being done in the year of 1969, and except for the show known as, “2001, A Space Odyssey”, all science fiction writers, and all other people, spoke of years as 2004 for example as twenty-oh-four, and so forth; and somehow the mighty Misses Marola seemed to either be the only one who knew this by lucky chance and guesswork, or because she 'traveled', and we are not talking about Europe or the Bahamas, huh Nick, my old road-trip pal of 1996 and 2008? Many people write books, and claim how their so-called psychic abilities permit them traveling around so many wild mysterious realms, and other times, and the Astral Plane; and I'll be quite frank with my readers, I am very skeptical of 99+% of these people, and their writings, and their claims. Most 'of', you, and (NOT ODF) are also just as skeptical of mine. The difference with mine however, is that these blogs are date and time stamped by the websites they post up into, and cannot be CHEATED. Nobody is black boxing between two websites here that they own, just to push counters up. No one is black boxing between their own website and their own U-tube postings either. This is all non-cheated, and REAL, and so are my claims that what has happened to me, HAS INDEED FREAKING HAPPENED TO ME FOLKS. Why anybody would cheat, or lie about anything; blows my mind. Maybe a few real psychics are out there, but again, these persons are merely able to expand on the same sense of FEEL, that all of us have, it is like the human muscular system. Lift enough heavy barbells, and keep upping the amount of weight you lift on various exercises, that make different muscle groups grow bigger and harder and stronger; and growing stronger is what results. Some truth is here, and Paula Uwich of Glendora, New Jersey, is my personal proof to all of this, as she has 'real power', and she knew about Braxton, and from there; my own research just went on to super confirm many other things, that I had suspected right along. How could she know that “SARAH” was in prison? I SHOULD KNOW about this type of maximum security prison, as I blogged my own version of it. Nothing is making any of this vanish into the hat of the Copperfield's, YET? Let me move on now, and tell that I was attacked today with quite a bit of annoying loud music, loud road noises, a computer Lattisaw hack jack attack quack, and also a diarrhea attack. This was all intentionally done to me by WOMO enemies, and they have not learned yet, that they will be counter struck with my blogged out words, immediately after giving me another emereffing rotten stinking BOTBAR day! Here is what I now will tell from yesterday, and unlimited future ammunition is available for me when these disease weeds of the bay, continue giving me endless crap. Also, at right about half past ten, just five quarters of an hour back, I took a super low and quite loud private airplane attack, zenithing right over the roof of this freaking ghetto house, here on the great all mighty 26^th Street, in good old FPFLUSAESMWG, in this exact signature vibration of the atomic hyperspace, in five dimensions.

The full long details will not be told, just a little bit to get some hearts pumping nice and hard. I spent 153 days and nights, all in one nine hour period; while residing in Cherry Hill, NJUSAESMWG, living in another parallel universe, in 1986. Most of this story is not bloggable. It is way too powerful, and it involves United States Presidents, as well as top scientific and research facilities, and classified information. I have no desire to be taken to the BAY and have my door come crashing in a few hours from now by federal agents. Still, when I was in this other location, the All Mighty Goddess of this world and beyond, was interacting with me quite differently, as were other people in numerous positions of power, authority, and name recognition. I had been contacted by someone in Washington, DC, and ordered to report to an address there, where a secret meeting took place, with many powerful 'world owners'. They told me that a song that my daughter had written and I had copyrighted for her, was a cover up and that they knew I really could 'travel around' in unconventional ways, and demanded that I tell them exactly what the entire next 30 years would be like on Wall Street, and with major events. Naturally, I denied it all, and said it was just music, and that even if I could do these things, I would never be a party to this type of horrendous despicable behavior. I was then taken to some secret place in the Atlantic Ocean, an unknown small island, where the military had a totally covert operation going; and I was placed in a hospital type of housing area, mostly confined to one room, and to my bed. Eventually, I was able to convince these captors of mine, that I would cooperate with them, and so they released me back to a place where I was residing on Ohio Avenue, in Atlantic City, where a large walk up apartment building existed, that does not exist here in this universe, and where I was living with a very gorgeous laboratory technician from the Atlantic City Medical Center, by the name of Phyllis Alexander. My wife there, Paula King, and myself, had recently separated for a second time, and this time, it was because of some scandal about my being in trouble with Wall Street, and the SEC. I only have some of the details, but that is a lot more than I ever remembered so far, from this powerful 1986 interaction. I had many other places where I also lived, the main place was in Egg Harbor, New Jersey, and over here, is known as the Roundhouse Museum, but over there, it is exponentially larger and has five stories, and nearby to it, is another building that housed about 220 families, and all of the land around for several square miles; all was part of this one estate. Paula as well as my younger daughter PEE, all lived there, and I would visit there upon occasion. But I had a strange enemy that came from the future, and had fun playing with me like a toy. In my so-called fictional book called, “The Permission Barrier”, some of this story is told, and disguised around a bit. Still, it all happened. Putting pieces together in hindsight, when I stayed at Tom Reale's home in 1970, over there, I had been there every summer, and never at the Trinidad Hotel on Tennessee Avenue. There was no Tom Reale over there, just the Callio family, and the King family, and Victoria Callio and Paula King were all the same person there, whereas this is all different here. In this universe, I had fallen in love with Paula at the age of fifteen, and we were married two years later, but she left me in 1979, and said that I was too immature. The wild dude that I refer to as the alchemist in many old blogs over the past 4-6 years, was one of Robert McGuire's sons, and he had four sons. Over here, I do not know about his offspring, and never even checked out this line of the great family after him, as I was so busy checking his dad out, and those all around him in many directions. This is another man of mystery. Only the man named Ed Lynch knows this, besides me; as we witnessed his appearing in a photograph, and we have no memory at all of his ever being right there at the car on Tennessee Avenue that day. I was told that this same thing was done to both 'MI and me', a little Latin verbal humor here. The only reason that I have remembered it all slowly over the past two years or so, is because by pure random chance, I played the wrong side of a cassette tape at my job-site in my car, while guarding at the Cifaloglio Trucking site one night. Hearing the “MI” on the tape brought it all back, slowly, ever so slowly, and bit by bit, and piece by piece, I now am where I am, but at this place where I went to yesterday, or now really back on Friday, a strange dude explained something to me that put things into a major hyper time new perspective. The same enemies want me to help them in this universe, only here, they are using me in an entirely different way. Over there, casino gambling never happened in Atlantic City until the 21^st century came around. There was no roulette playing for me, and hence no learning about PARALLEL EVENT, and how to apply this technology to the game's three outside betting parameters, as explained by me on so many of my past blogging texts. Over here, they just use the parallel event on me, or said more accurately, against me, as they knew that they could make their Dow Jones Markets go from 1,600 points to 14,000 points within twenty years. They did exactly this, and the 20 years after 1986 all speaks for itself. Still, as Neilson puts it so well, this is how the story goes, but as I will now amend and add to these great words, there is a lot more to this freaking tale of misery and woe, and it will be forthcoming, first to the Atlantic County Prosecutor, as I am going to demand my website back, as I legally paid for it, and I did nothing wrong; thus I plan to hire a Florida attorney, to pursue this matter, so I can re-post this up, as the 'MORIANITY-FOUNDATION-2'.

For all persons totally miserable, and who have begun realizing that this life here is total hell, and want to escape from it; read the last several blogs, and I will retell again in other ways, later on, why this works, why hyperspace is and does what it is and does, and why things break and crumble like Mount Saint Helen's Pedersen Miseries, Japan, and the American South, and on and on, when you do the simple electromagnetic trick that I know how to do, and have in fact been doing now, since 1980, or shall I rephrase, and say; since PITSY-1 or (Port-In-The-Storm Year-1).

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).

posted by theansweristheqyuestion at 11:21 AM

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

View my complete profile

Previous Posts

• Chapter 48 The August Assault Strikes Me Ag...
• Chapter 47 The Cooking Channel Comes to Morianity
• Chapter 46 How they gained 200 points on Dow ...
• Chapter 45 ------ So On With The Show, Kal lio...
• Chapter 44 _____ I am all Junk and Nonsense, so wh...
• Chapter 43 6 godsdamn straight hellish botbars
• chpt. 42 wicked diseased otammskum and Co.
• Chapter 41 --- Speaking Now To The Unborn, only
• Chapter 40 COVER-UPS, TRUTHS, AND REASONS
• chapter 39 --- someone wants to know a bit more

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Oh by gosh by golly, forget holly and kissing bushes; this is so dead ass serious, there are no words; Auntie Dearest!

MARCH 9, 2014,

SUNDAY MORNING AT 3:08,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE, 58 DEGREES FNHT.

Journal cassette tape number 25,734 equivalent

I had a nice eight hours of 'sleep' or close to it, something very rare for me now in my old bunt tapping age, folks. I was a regular normal TYPE-1-EXPLORATRON, as we all are unless practicing an unusual set of mental exercises, which are to go to sleep and set the alarm for about two thirds to three quarters of the time that you normally sleep, say if you are a six hour sleeper, setting it for four hours. You get us just long enough to perhaps grab a half glass of water and take a leak. But before you even fall back into bed, you mentally 'day-dream' on a place that you wish you were, this could be anything from on some vacation to just being at the residence of anyone in this world you would want to be for any possible reason. It could be your teacher, your preacher, your grand parents place in the country, or the home of Elvis Presley when he was a young man. ''The possibilities'', to quote lovely Elizabeth Montgomery, back in that sixties show on TV, called Bewitched, ''are endless''. Do not think about one other thing other than this, and within one minute you will be back asleep, only you will be awake in your doppelganger self in some parallel universe, where indeed, due to the mathematical immensity of the fifth dimension, you will be there, because you in this alternate reality, are there. The second you are there, you need to take command and tell yourself, I just did this, hay that buttwipe Mountainpen is no fake phony asshole, this works, so let me do the next thing he says. That would be to say to yourself, ''I really am here, and now I can choose to take over my other self and become a true transdimensional somnambulist. Sleep walkers are nothing more than TYPE-2-EXPLORATRON travelers, in the stage of experimentation, invisible to you as you are in the same reality as the one asleep and walking, but inside that sleepwalker, is their double from another dimension in the multiverse, in the D-5 or FIFTH DIMENSION. I was only a TYPE-1-EXPTN, but am planning on telling a powerful story, as we begin the opening minutes of DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME, HERE IN AMERICA; and my own stupid invention, from a long time ago.

Recently, the temperatures here have been heavenly, less than eighty with nice dropping overnight breaks from any heat. This won't last much longer so I am sucking it all up while I can like a dry sponge striking a universe of ocean. I fell asleep around just past two yesterday afternoon, Saturday, and slept until just past ten last night. Somewhere towards the end of the period, I was inside of powerful vivid dreaming interactions. I knew it, but had no control, as I did not take the normal steps of mental exercise to allow for this brain to Mind-Realm connection circuitry, to make this all operate in this mode. Just why it does, by the way, don't ask me, just know that I know, that indeed folks, it does. So I had no control, but I was in a very vivid situation, powerless to make my doppelganger do anything, hence, it was doing what it wanted to do, in this particular world reality. I was traveling a lot, and unlike the days of the early and middle eighties, in the parallel universe where I was employed as some traveling promotion agent for the S-DAY-LAUDER peeps, I am spelling it as it sounds and have no idea how it is properly spelled; but unlike with this, I was not any kind of sales rep or anything remotely connected to this kind of situation, and fully know that, as my double fully knew quite naturally, what he was doing in his life, and I was just along for the ride, for lack of a better way of saying it. I was in a large restaurant and everyone was filing out for some reason and I was suddenly there by myself, possibly as the guard, as I have done a lot of this type of work here in this universe, but in cosmic fifth dimensional truth, that really is totally meaningless, as we all have universes where we all have done every possible thing and been every possible one of us, and have interacted with every possible one of us in every possible relationship. This seems beyond inconceivable, but that is only because numbers like one times ten to the power of a quadrillion are so beyond the reach of your mind, and this is a pin head amount of the total of these universes next to the real total amount of them in all of the entire multiverse or the hyperspace. Anyway, my aunt Geraldine snow was suddenly there, and after a while, I knew that this was not my aunt, and just as I realized this, in walked my parents who I totally knew in this universe, were not my parents. Then five people ranging in age from 12 to 30 for a best guess on my part, also were coming into this place, and they all seated themselves around a very large square table with a red and white tablecloth with checkerboard type pattern, and then blue stars were inside many of the multiple squares. I suddenly looked up and I observed a sign on the wall, and it said, THE RED WHITE AND BLUE LODGE. Later I came to learn that this was a mountain retreat for skiers, and that this family, of which I was no part of there, appeared to be the owners of this quite large and quite gorgeous establishment. They saw me sitting at a table across from them and totally ignored me, so I pretended to have a stroke, and grabbed my head and fell down off of my chair. Instead of helping me however, the two older guys who might have been my brothers only they were not in this parallel reality, began mercilessly kicking me in the head and ribs. They had sneakers on and even though blood was pouring from me, I was not mortally wounded, but I found myself tied up in the back room after going unconscious. My Aunt Geraldine Snow who was not my Aunt over there, told them to all leave the room. She then proceeded to ask me who I was and why I am there and why I faked having a stroke. I was still bleeding and told her if someone would call for medical hep and let me have a wet cloth to hold on my messed up face following my beating, I would then tell her what I was able to. With that she punched me real hard right smack on top of my shoulder, then took off her shoe and began to beat me on the top of my head with it. While the beating was going on, someone from inside the main area hollered out, ”turn on the dam ass music, so that we don't have to hear the prick yelling so much”. Suddenly I coul;d hear the word 'MY' and then a really loud drumbeat, and then the song that I wrote back in early August of 1986, called, “Real Good Girl'', began playing on a powerful system. I heard my own rotten voice singing it, and the powerful loud crashing of the cymbals and the loud drum like sounds from numerous fake things that made those sounds, right down to me pounding my fists hard on the floor of my landlord's home in Cherry Hill, at 1931 Route 70, AKA the Marlton Pike, East. After the song was over, I noticed that another sign was hanging in the room that I was in, saying, CONGRATS TO THE GRADUATES OF CHELTENHAM HIGH. For those who just may remember from blogs around 2010, I had a powerful interaction about my cousin Donald and my cousin Sandy; and part of it was about them telling me to go over to that high school, in Pennsylvania, and just exactly why; I could not and still cannot; begin to imagine the reason. I have never even been to Cheltenham, Pennsylvania. Two words are in this town's name that are real actual words, if you notice; TEN, and HAM. Biblically, the ten commandments and people refusing to live by them, in the days of Noah, who had a son by the name of HAM, along with Japeth and 'SHEM'; matching the first syllable in the name with one half of the letters and also being the word of 'HE', and other than for these Babylonian super sleuth clues, Kim Wild Weird-Chords; I do not know what else to say regarding this. What I will tell you, is that, and I know some of you out here have had this happen in your lives so don't bother denying it; but I realized this was a 'dream' that I had in part, on numerous other occasions, not in any serial order, but it was as some call these things, 'recurring dreams'. I always liked that L&O episode where the lawyer Dworkin tells the jury of his recurring dream with going out to work naked, in New York City, how his day started in the subway, then onto the way it continued at work, with Susie, and so forth. Still, I am in this parallel universe a lot, in my present life mind energy as a TYPE-1-EXPLORATRON, and for the first time now, as a TYPE-2, and now after I tell you a little bit about this folks; maybe you will understand when I tell you that I definitely plan to go back as a TYPE-3, (T-3-E). Suddenly there was nobody anywhere, not in this room behind the main dining hall, or in the main areas either. Now I found myself walking completely outside and noticing huge snowy mountains, and a huge sign advertising this lodge, and lots of folks all waiting for a ski life to take them to the top of a ski area. All of a sudden, one of the most awesome beautiful young hunny's that I ever saw in my entire life, almost a twin of that tall goddess on the old Lizzy McGuire show staring delicious Hillary Duff, back early in this century on the Disney channel or Nick, or whatever. Looks like Microsucks Spellchecker needs some fucking Viagra, not recognizing a commonly used term that I attempted spelling three different ways. Anyway, the girl was like the popular goddess of the school, by the name of KATE. This is very much how this girl appeared, only as tall as Kate was in the show, this giant teen goddess had to be a foot taller and towered over everybody, and was wearing the most beautiful colored jacked, and had long light brown hair much like the great Sarah Krassle. She came up to me and began telling me that it won't work, and to leave the place, and she repeated it over and over. My doppelganger just kept saying back to her, not to get involved in it. This is when I turned and found my car, parked and unlocked, keys already in the ignition, in the lot close to the ski lift. I got in and began to drive away, and within ten minutes, this goddess passed me and tried to make me stop my car, and this went on quite a while until I stopped and she then got into my car after pulling hers over to the side of the road and shutting it off. This is when she told me they are never going to let me know where they hid the 74-WP. I then found myself pulling over and begin discussing this with her. I asked her all sorts of questions, I didn't, but this doppelganger other me was doing it; with me along for the ride. She eventually told me that she could help me get it, but that the price would be for me to sign the papers. After a while, I realized what these papers were. Her father was the owner of some large NASA connected private company that wanted to have the details about Sunram's DE system. She did not seem to even know about these details, only speaking in ways that ki was suddenly able to catch on, due to what I knew. Then things changed in some ways that did not pertain to here in my world now where I type this, so I cannot begin to figure it out. She said I had to go to Staten Island and tell that meddling girlfriend to stop trying to get that lawsuit going. All this other me kept saying is that I had no power to tell her anything, and then she kept telling me that I did indirectly, and that I needed to keep mister Java Queen out of their affairs. This went on a while and she then asked me to take her back to her car and I did so. When I drove off I thought that she had driven the other way and back up the ski resort, but somehow she deiced to turn around and again, started chasing me and passing me and doing all kinds of maneuvers in her vehicle that made me finally pull over again. But this time she then put her car in reverse and came parallel to mine, and a passenger was in there with her, and it was, well, I wanted to say, my aunt Geraldine Snow, but she is not my Aunt over there. Her window rolled down and she aimed a large magnum, the same type gun that record promoter Lenny McKinnon pulled on me in the summer time of 1980 in Philadelphia when he insisted that I run a red light near city hall across Broad Street one hot ass afternoon in late July. Then I heard shots, and the left side of my body was on fire. Literally, on fire, not like the expression goes when someone is shot and it feels like this type of agony. I was on fire, and the car caught fire. This gun shot out something, and it was not like a flame thrower, but more like small tablets that came into my window and just burst into flame. The car began speeding away ahead of me, and I stopped my car and tried to run outside, but the door would not open. I remember the agony of burning and burning, and me screaming for minutes so loudly that I had no voice left. Then like magic, it was just past ten at night, and I was here, and that was over.

However, the eye problem came back once I crossed back over to here. I'll have to get it looked at next week by doctors. There some some weird sounds coming from the hallway in the middle of my sleep time, and I cannot be totally sure which universe it was coming from nor how it could effect the sound. We all know that the same sound is two different things most of time, in two universes. I used to be inside of 'dreams' back in 1964 where buzzing birds or machines were doing something around me, and then I would come back to here, and it was my father in the bathroom of the 125-A Haddon Hills apartments, with his electric shaver, shaving himself.

JOURNAL TAPE 25,734 continues onward, L-4. It goes from bad to worse, to worse-even-more, to holy fucking Jesus Christ; so be sitting down for this daily update and report, folks, pweeeeeeeeeze, BRO! I went up on the computer to check my e-mails which I had not done in about 4 days give or take, and had some real weird difficulty with my Comcast Account, where my address is mountainpen@comcast.net. I think your message finally went through, SEABOTTOM, as even though I got only a circle with a red line through it as a response to my hitting the SEND, I also did this on a few other e-mail places, and think they went through, but still cannot be sure, as one was the Copyright Office, and they sent me a confirmation that they did get my note, but I had also left a voicemail on someone's machine on the telephone, so there is no was for me to be positive, either way. Normally I get a flashing quick MESSAGE SENT prompt, but this is not happening, to quote lovely Judge Judy.

UP-UP-UP-UP, FOREVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There are a lot of things I really want to say and tell. If I told, I would be so fucking dead!!!!!!!! Oh sweet mother of Viqueen gangs of the human equivalent Quoddy Mockers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU MISSED ME, DIRTWEEDS DISEASESLEAZE JANE!

ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY, USA is a place that from the very beginning, I knew something was very very very wrong, lovely beautiful 1984 Ingrid. I just hope someday before all is said and done, whoever is really most responsible for all of my woes from this city of evil and power, can scream out the last words of, I AM REALLY GOING DOWN THE TOILET. Then maybe, some, not all; but some of this shit will have been worth it, YO!!!!!!!!!!

SO WILL GODDESS GET ME FOR THIS, LADY FROM LONG BEACH ISLAND, WOW, AND IS THERE SUCH A WORD AS PROPHETESS??? IF NOT, DON'T YOU ALL THINK THAT THERE SHOULD FREAKING ASS BE, YO YO YO YO?

Yes Terry Egghead Harbors, I am most definitely an imperfect little human being, in total control over the Endless Miseries Club of Planet Earth, but not in control of a whole lot else, mahm. Sorry about that 1986 Maxwell Smart Chief. Blare those video games at me, brother!!!!!!!!!!!

GREAT FOLKS, YO, I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, ALSO KNOWN AS THE BOM, COINCIDENCE YOGI????

Silwee WHAAAAABIT and others; I am here, just as I told the great UNITED STATES © OFFICE, back in dancing McDonald's 1988, with my tune called, ''PROPHET OF NOTHING'', WEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Very few things really change, as it is not things or people that change, merely energy movements rearranging in the vast hyperspace fifth dimensionally. W---O---W!

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

You go TIGER MARK!

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SUCH A GREAT COSMIC NUMBER, 'STEW' MASON.

Jupiter, Florida, welcomes you to Morianity; Courtesy of Channel 12-TV.

HERE WE GO AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bobby McDowell of Fort Wayne, Indiana, United States of America, ESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My posting of the Jupiter inlet is always coming out blurry, yet on the real website itself, it does not. Another hack given to me by that lovely group of nice fine fellows and lassies, the groovy wonderful WOMO-MILITUFAWCE, Huh, Mister Hall????????????????????

For the record and getting on with Thirty-Fourth miraculous clauses, cases, and Patty Hollister's from 1975; permit me UNCLE ON BENT GOZZWALD KNEES HEINZ, to just say this little squib here, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am going to be TELLING HUGE FUCKING SECRETS TO PEEPS BEYOND THIS PUNY BLOG VIEWERSHIP. 2020 IS A GOOD TIME TO GET SHIT ALL CLEARED UP, SYMBOLICALLY, BUT WE WON'T BE WAITING THIS LONG, JAMES T. BURR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'll start with this quick little one that is not going to cause anyone anywhere even the slightest bit of pain or agony, and is more than true and more than deserved. The Bonjovi peeps told me that my blogs make me sound so angry all the time, and they wonder why. THEY WONDER WHY. Well, grab a big mirror and put it in front of you. You are merely the latest group of such nice wonderful peeps, that make me what I am, and cause me to write so many angry words. If you have to really wonder, then you know what, this entire world might as well just go right mother fucking back to swinging from tree to tree on nice juicy thick vines. There is no use in me saying another dam fucking word, not now and not here, and not anywhere at all, lovely DZA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“BE BLUNT, OR BE IGNORED; A SHAME BUT TRUE”

Even when I am totally in your fucking face and flat out blunt as all shit cubed in Daddy's Cuba, Dawny TPB Terra, they don't hear, Uncle Jesus Carpenter and great U.S. © Office, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I want so bad to be subtle and say a thousand cool things, but nobody gets most of my story when I come out shouting from rooftops with extremely blunt and major controversial statements and facts. I had plans this weekend to see Mikey on the island, but my horrendous toothache put the kibosh on that. The agony was quite intense until last evening after the weekend was over. Too coincidental to be a coincidence, huh Mister Berra, well, I certainly agree with you old pal. No need to ever try twisting my freaking arm. Very sorry folks, it is never really my intention to cause any suffering to innocent people.

To function back in the days when this world was transitioning into a totally different animal than ever before, and those too young to know this, simply don't, but it takes a lot of money and flowing readily available liquid capital. The main vehicle that was created for only one purpose, their purpose, a long time ago; is indeed, the MARKETS. But why did things go nuts after early 1983 when the DJIA for the first time in its long history even then, crossed over the three digit mark and into 1000+ points, forever? Well, this would take years to type up and tell, and I will tell bits and parts here and there, but there really is no short story that can be made about this monstrosity!!!!

CONVERSATION IN 1979 WITH A MYSTERIOUS MR. CALDWELL:

Someone told me that metals will not be inexpensive much longer, and that he did not wish to say more. Naturally I pressed and pressed the dude until he broke and swore me to secrecy. It does not matter because he disappeared and his entire family disappeared, about a year or so later, some time in the year of 1975. But I will tell you what he said. He said a huge secret was learned accidentally by members in his family about Fort Knox, and that the place was secretly being expanded underground, new tunnels that went very deep into new areas being excavated. A huge river, an underground river was just below where the bottom foundation was, and that after all of the gold in the entire place was taken to its new areas, a break in the foundation below it all caused the river even below that, to begin seeping in, and men had died trying to get the gold out of there. They were unrecognizable and had to be secretly disposed of. This river from the subterranean depths had an extremely high acidity due to some volcanic action nearby even below this. All he said to me was it cannot ever ever come out or the world would collapse, but all of our gold was literally eaten away by this river of pure acid. They closed up the tunnels, with a loss of dozens of super hushed up workmen, and that was that. I asked him how the invention had anything to do with it, and he said that his grandchildren were going to be drilled and drilled to use this on a grand scale someday like around 2020 or so, his exact words and timing, not mine. I still said, so what? He said this machine's side effect is beyond incredible, but it needs to be refined abnd worked on and will take decades, but it will be able to be done, and what it will do is turn magma and lava material, when mixed with this chemical in small doses, and hundreds of gallons of normal seawater, into gold, pure total solid gold. Someday the price will be pennies a pound, but for the next number of decades, until this device can be finished, metals will soar because of the problem at Knox. I never saw or heard from him again, and 9 and a half years later, his good friend Jim Burr gave me the old invention of the weird laptop before there were laptops, in exchange for a magazine that I had. He was madly in love with Connie Chung the newscaster. This was the 1978 September issue of STAG, a dirty filthy mag like Penthouse or Playboy or a million others out there in the dirty book stores. In this magazine that most copies were confiscated, were dozens of naked disgusting shots of this international news broadcaster, Connie Chung. I took the invention down to Orlando Florida with me, but it ended up in the streets of Washington, DC before arriving down in Orlando in December of 1983, and nobody needs to know any of this, NOBODY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I did not get into these parts that I am adding in for the sake of these blogs and my life journal records; but what I did tell my brand new stock broker, Mister Dennis Caldwell; was the forbidden story of Fort Knox, and I laughed and said I'm sure it is all a bunch of bullshit. But the look on his face was beyond the look a man would give you if you just told him that you raped his teenaged daughter and his wife both together. I don't think I ever saw a look on a face like this, not even in a movie. He jumped up out of his seat telling me, and I remember it well, ''Be right back old man'', one of his expressions, I came to learn, as I looked like a 16 year old boy in those years. He came back and told me if it's OK with me, can I leave now, I have seen the brokerage and he had given me lots of time and now must get back to lots of stuff he needed to do. While he said this to me, phones were ringing off of the hook and the place went from half asleep to a mad house. I got home and it was after business hours, it was a long drive back in rush hour traffic, to Audubon, New Jersey and Audrey Heller's place. Next morning while dead to the world, Audrey at her job and me alone in the house, Dennis calls me and says, after I said hello and he said ''Mark, it's you right'', and I said yeppir or something like that, half asleep. He then said, ''LOCK LIMIT UP''. I said to him what's that mean? He said that is good, your position in the palladium contract was at maximum profit and already no longer able to even trade today. Next morning he called and did not wait for me to say it is me, and he said, ''LOCK LIMIT UP''. This was the beginning of the gold rush. I know I started it by telling the great Zvonko Knox secret, real or not real, who can ever know, but I had no intention of trying to manipulate a fucking metal market. Right after this, that jerk off wealth HUNT from HUNT FOOD, did indeed go onto corner the solver market, and this is a historical fact that anyone out here can check out with simple Googling. Now many chemists know that nothing can make gold tarnish or in any way injure it. Actually, it can be melted as the great mints of the world all know, and it can all flow away, deep into the earth. I never meant to say that this is not what happened, but when I do not share an entire story at an exact time that I tell it, maybe I have very justified reasons for mo otherwise methods of madness, as many feel with me, is the case. Hay Mashell and others, YOU'RE ALL ENTITLED, AS AM I, TO YOUR WONDERFUL OPINIONS. I just happen to know a little bit that other people on this planet don't. This is a fact, and the entire world is fucking free to call me a god dam ass liar, anytime, any place, YO BRO!!!!!!!!!!! SO LIMIT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OH SHIT does anything that resembles fucking normalcy, ever become a part of my screwy weird life, ladies and gentlemen????????

If anyone out here reading me even for one or two years, let alone 3-8; really thinks you have been told all the huge shit about my life, you are about as far off base as all the baseball game stolen base losses all put together, and tripled!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You honestly have only been given a smattering, about musical saga's, Jefferson supergirls, and great wonderful powerful Aunt Oz Geraldine's; all notwithstanding!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 57 DEGREES FNHT.

Feels 100! Actually that is a lie, it feels quite nice tonight. TEE-HEE-HEE, Lilly Munster.

CURRENT NUMBERS ARE BELOW AT END OF BLOG, YO!!!

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COME BACK TO ME ROSEANN DELANEY, IN ANTY FORM, YO!!!!!!!!

Back in 1977, I met a real jerk off named Jan, who did sound recording and thought he was a little god at the age of twenty-nine. He had a little studio in a music store in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, where I did a total of five songs between 1977 and 1980, and he did such a rotten job, that Howard Solomon at the RPL Studios in Camden, New Jersey; reworked the mixes to make them a little more alive and a little bit better. But just exactly how does Jan Nace and Dennis Caldwell of the Clayton Brokerage, all fit together as I told that it does, a while back; you may still be wondering, folks? Well, for openers, TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS from universes all throughout hyperspace, do a lot more than know how to join up with the Lambrigg Cult of the Astral-Plane, fly around in weird creepy air saucers, build weird looking work-bots that we have all mistaken for space-aliens (SPAL) as it will come to be called later towards the end of this century, and these lovely wonderful darling awesome people, LOVE TO PLAY GAMES, with the rest of the NON-TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS, and the intricacies and elucidations to this as well as Jan Nace and Dennis Caldwell, would require about a dozen WAR AND PEACE TOLSTOYU novels, for me to even start cracking open, all of this major mother fucking shit. That does not mean it is not there, or that I could not write it all and crack it all open. I will do all of this, just give me some time, and hay all good Delaney vamps out there, where are you when I need you and WALMART VOICEMAILS, BRAH??????????

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:

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YES EVER SINCE THE VAMPIRE LINK LEFT ME, MY BLOGS WENT TO HICKEY CITY, ROSIE GIRL. OUCH, IN MORE WAYS THAN THREE, HOW DO PEEPS LIVE WITH THEIR EMMEREFFING CONSCIENCES FOR 44 AND A HALF YEARS?

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!TODAY IS ANOTHER FUCKING SUPER BOTBAR, DUE TO MAJOR FUCKING KLUTZ OUT SHIT ALL CUNT CHEWING DAY LONG. THIS IS A MAJOR NEGATIVE INDICATOR!!!!!!