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Because
as my bio says of me, “I close my mind to nothing”, what
happens is that to many, I appear ridiculously narrow minded,
another famous reverse-mirage, given to humankind, by the forces
all around us. The average man and woman and child of most non
third-world nations, living some type of average lives within some
parameter of set norms by some kind of something that is always in
charge of it all, behind seemingly closed doors, and this happens
in all of the history of the world, if you do a careful study of
it, really an in depth non prejudice study, where you might reject
somethng because it offends your comfy zones a little bit.
I
claim to have an interest in everything, to various degrees, and
all of you do as well, to lesser darious degrees. I do not have
the luxury of being a normal human being. No one of course
anywhere believes any of my stories for the most part, but if they
did, and if I were ever able to prove to their satisfactions so
that they would see and understand; they would have no choice but
to either buck heads in quintessential stubbornness or agree with
the inevitable things that I lay claim to in my neamry nine years
of these Mountainpen Blogs. I am not going to get all overly
philosophical here with you folks, so don't worry and begin to hit
the page down bottom to skip over the usual tongue flailing
endless chatter rants that I'll admit to habitually doing, to
release decades of major frustrations, futility, and failures, the
three F'S of my life that make it a literal endless burning hell
on Earth.
SEPTEMBER
17, 2014,
WEDNESDAY
MORNING AT 3:15,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 72 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 100%, IT FEELS 77.
YESTERDAY
TEMPERATURE RANGE (H-92/L-72)
EXCEPT
FOR THE WILD COMPUTER HACK YESTERDAY AFTERNOON, ALL WAS QUITE
QUIET, AND WAY BETTER THAN EXPECTED!
MORIANITY
FOR MILLENNIUM 3
I
CAN PROVE IT, SO THEY MUST COVERTLY MURDER ME
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>CHAPTER
008
I
need to tell my lightning goddess Diana, how happy she made me by
coming around last evening, with her lovely colors and fractal
shapes once again. In 1983 we began using special codes to talk
back and forth to each other, and now, we don't need that any
more, now that while I am Mark Wayne Mohr Mountainpen on Earth, I
have my total awareness to truth, that I really am a larger
entity, Rictofarious. While I am always with you in 'forever' my
BB (Baby-Blond), I know about my dreams back here all throughout
the fifth dimensional hyperspace, but could care so little when
there with you, about any of them. Still, as long as you allow me
to remember who I truly am there, while I remain stuck here, that
is all that counts, my endless love. I doubt very seriously that
anyone is ready or able to receive so many great truths. I feel
compelled to tell one of these anyway. When I am convinced for
nearly a quarter century that I had the full truth on a large
subject, only to learn eventually that I had only a piece of it,
and now I see it all even clearer, but this makes me very agitated
about just leaving this alone after preaching and screaming out,
even if only to EW, secret family, and enemies. Even with that; I
feel the need to tell what I have now come to see in an even
larger still, huge cosmic picture.
YOU
MISSED ME, JANE SLEAZEWEEDSDISEASE FONDA WITH YOUR PAGE ELEVEN OF
ELEVEN COSMIC ASSAULT, WATER WITCH.
Part
of this is about new ideas and creativity or inventions, be them
mechanical, literary, or anything anyone may be able to think of.
Then the other has to do with my misinterpreting why I am in a
time loop repeating this most recent life. I am not. I was wrong.
What happened is a lot bigger than being stuck in some silly syfy
type of repeating endless lifetime. The symptoms can mimmick the
disease of this, but it is just that, a misreading and a trotal
misdiagnosis as a result. You heard me discuss a few blogs back,
about jacking into future ultra great video-games, so that you are
inside of this virtually created reality-simulation. Then I went
onto say that the really great advanced systems, have a way to
make you forget your existence on the other side or outside of the
screen in the so-called larger reality, where you would be here,
pghysically. I also told you as computers get better through
gaining more power and more processing speeds and all the things
that go onto eventually make them think just as we think as
biologically run computers or human beings, due to enough
intelligence forming out of the programs and collections of memory
and sensory and numerous other complex systems. Well, in order to
make this work in a computer simulation, a dumb-down process needs
to go into the program at the entry point, where you begin as a
little baby being born and slowly live as a baby and a toddler and
a child. By this time, you will have become this dumb little thing
with no memory of anything before that or bigger than that. Just
as with our simulation games someday, those bigger ones that made
all of us and all of this, do the very same exact thing also.
Now
tying in creativity to this almost same subject and my point here;
95%+ of all things ever invented, were done by trying this and
trying that, and using a process of elimination, to slowly make
the thing improve and slowly weed out the stuff proven to be of no
value. Almost, we could call the process, intentionally copied
evolution or (ICE). I know I can speak for me and say in full
candor and truth, privaqtel;y or to the nine great Supreme Court
Justices if ever asked by them, without batting one eyelash; that
I connected many many virtually uncountable electronic circuits
and plugs and jacks all together in configurations that went from
insane to impressing the pasts off any electronics computer
school, back while experimenting with my junk, in 1980.
As
things did stuff, they were keepers. Most or 99%+ of things I
messed with, were duds. I never wasted time doing two dud twice,
which of course is a real time saver. A large majority of things
made sense within standards in the electronic community, such as
using double normal power, remaking parts to withstand washing
machine and air conditioner outlet plug ins. Also, taking already
changing evolving ideas and getting them to do a lot of stuff they
were never designed to do, hell, this goes back to Engineer
Scottie on the original Star Trek. Every time he saved the day
from gloom and doom, he took existing things and redid stuff with
them that were not meant to do or designed to do. Many times when
I did it this, the Enterprise Ship would have blown up, so thank
heaven I was not their engineer. But given time and enough wild
weird tries and combinations, and voile' friends; stuff began to
happen. But I tried to tell my mom something that she insited on
laughing at me about, and it led to her funeral indirectly, just
for not opening up her mind to powerful free truth. I am not
getting into the specifics, it is not necessary for you to know
and have them. We all know that patterns of behabvior follow all
of us, for the most part, from womb to tomb. Bweing so god dam
fuckign stubborn, my mom knew it all and none of us knew shit, she
was always right, and this is why she died a horrible monster ass
death in March of 2000 and only why. By refusing to believe
powerful shit that I tried to tell her, when the bombs and big
guns began firing around us for two decades, or a few years shy of
that; I survived with my armour, and she of course, was blown to
bits. I speak in parables and stories but I know my majority out
here gets every word I am saying, so no time here to play fools
games, OK?
Making
a very long story short, and this is going to sound like my
biggest fish tale in ten dam oceans, but I am going to tell it.
There are so many possibleways to take established anythings, and
then make changes until new shit is created or invented, and once
in a while, it is big, like Madam Currie and her great medical
discoveries, or things done by our heroes in NASA over the
decades, and on and on and on. Still, this is half the story, as
one thing NASA, NSA, or any world power will never ever tell any
of you, and I will; is that one other thing is always surrounding
all the stuff discussed so far on this blog chapter. That would of
course be, that reality in waking world is in five, and not three
dimensions. When electronic stuff of any kind is in the mix
somehow; what we all do with it in three-dimensions where we are
seemingly all trapped in; is very much the same as jumping on a
sea saw toy in a child's yard, on one end. You will just go down,
and hard unless you let your legs stop the fall. But there is
always an invisible other playmate that you do not see nor are you
aware of, and this is the child on the other end who
simultaneously does indeed get onto the opposite end of that sea
saw, and interacts with you. There is more to just samplers,
computer programs, musical vocoders, keyboards, and lots of cool
electronics from mixers to enhanced square wave copiers, and more.
There is a powerful truth, that if you take certain things, and I
can only speak for 1980 and th eold analogue world; but if you do
certain things, electrical energetic patterns will materialize
onto tapes, psychics knew this all the way back to the days of
Edgar fucking Caycee for crissake. This pre-dates my 1980
nightmares by decades. Still, there is a lot more, and I am only
willing to go this far on this blog, for right now. BUTT, big as
mother humping BUTT, folks; I am going to go one other place, and
if people don't like it, well, they can dam ass lump it. Both
studios who were directly involved in music projects that I later
went onto make changes and alterations, being the Maxfield Studio
of Cherry Hill, New Jersey, in 1980, and the Avalon Studio of PSL,
Florida, owned by a second cousin of world renown John Bonjovi who
spells the name more complicated, and this is sort of a shortened
fan-spelling by many. What I heard in the studio both in 1980 up
in Jersey, as well as in 2012 here in Florida, was not what I
walked out with. The speeds were off, the quality was reduced, the
vocals were horrible, compressed, mechanical, intentionally made
to be rotten, not on one project, but on both, and this stretches
in a time line for a period of more than 32 years, nearly a half
human average lifetime, so no normal person from this world with a
normal 70 year life span, is doing all of this, not when the same
things happen that I cannot help picking up on since I am indeed
extra sensitive to all things surrounding me; and when these
things seemingly go on from my youth right into the present times
where I will be soon embarking on my journey's into the magic
lands of the elderly. No one, and I mean no one, will allow me to
do a good music project in a professional setting at a pro
recording studio, no matter how much money is paid to them. It is
done super cleverly, and I have to realize and accept the fact,
that books of accepted DMS4 Psychiatry; or 5 or 6 by now, who
knows; already condemns and labels me as a fruit case paranoid
when I make claims that no matter where I go or what I ever try to
do in music, the people around me are in some way, (ESS) being the
best explanation; but they are totally manipulated and controlled
without their even knowing it, to totally fuck up my shit, every
single time. This is why, I plan to build my own little basement
studio right in my apartment with headphones, where I can do what
I want, and nobody, but nobody can stop me, unless of course, they
can successfully pull off getting away with my murder, from my
1983 nightmare hooor medical condition; and my not being able to
get my necessary medications.
This
is no joke. All my life, and only Dave Roth agreed and could
personally relate, from the shit going on all throughout his own
life, but to quote him, our money is just not as green as everyone
else's is. I would testify to this truth in any court up there in
Tallahassee, Florida, any time you may ever wish to contact me to
come and speak with you, as this is all real, and eventually, I
may just have to remove a nice big chunk of the American continent
with my knowledge and my technology, if this is the only way to
survive a bgrutal arttack that is about to lead to my vicious
fucking cold blooded murder.
I
am the only person on this planet, that would DARE LOOK A SUPREME
COURT JUDGE, STRAIGHT IN THE FACE; AND TELL THEM under pain of
penalty if indeed they can prove me lying to them; that my entire
story called MORIANITY, over a now just less than 8.5 year time
period; is all totally 100% true and accurate, other than for the
one lie I admit that I told that Sarah was there that night with
her great gang, on that public bus at around 10:30 PM, the night
of 12 July, back in the year 1970. I now make this pledge and oath
and swear officially on this writing, to this statement, to all
nine Supreme Court Justices, and if you can prove I am a fake or a
phony hoaxer, then I WANT YOU TO THROW MY MISERABLE WORTHLESS
FUCKING ASS IN CUNT LAPPING PRISON, as that is where I would
belong!!!!!!!!
Some
time ago, I would encounter a lot of entities while
'exploring-dreaming', towards the ending years of this century's
first decade; and they would seem to enjoy finding me in very
unpleasant situations, and would love to say to me along the lines
of, or on many occasions, directly quoting the words here, “Try
getting out of this one”,
sometimes adding and using my first or Christian name of Mark,
other times, not doing that. Recently this happened, and has not
happened for about two or three years that I can pull up in my
head right at the moment. My daughters Pee and MY were with me at
some small private get-together, like a back yard pool party with
no fence lines separating homes on both sides as well as beyond on
the other side where a home sat at the next street over. No one
seemed to be living in any of these other homes, and it all
appeared to be deserted, or at least, I was somehow of this
opinion, based on some observations while there quite a while,
that I won't bother getting into. Pee was telling me that Zvonko
was trying to buy the rights to her computer towers, and she told
him to get lost several times, and MY heard this conversation, and
walked over closer to us from where she had been with her family,
having a nice time talking and dangling feet into the pool. She
said next time he comes around, have him call the eighty four
sixty four number around just shy of 3 in th afternoon next
Friday. I am just telling what happened. Suddenly Ann King walked
into the party from the street, along the side area of the house
and she was shouting that her daughter died for nothing; and that
these inventions should all be totally broken, and destroyed; and
that they are very evil. She was asked to leave; and suddenly her
son Joe, and her grand daughter Gemma, Joe's kid; also popped up,
coming from the same side of the house. Suddenly at this exact
point, I remembered being in this house a thousand times, and
living a life there every bit as real as the life I am living
here. Gemma called Pee a real nasty bunch of names and PEE glared
at her. They are both powerful giant goddesses, but PEE is a super
giant goddess. She grabbed Gemma and tore one of her arms right
off of her shoulder., and then she pushed her powerfully and
helplessly into the deep end of the yard in ground 25 foot long
swimming pool. No one did anything other than stand there and
watch all of this go down in absolute horror. Then Gemma floated
up to the surface, and pool was full of red blood. She was dead.
An outside intercom system had a radio placed near the send
station and the button switched to on, and the radio station began
to play an old Chiffon's song from the middle sixties that was one
of my faves at the time, called, “Sweet talkin' Guy”. After
this song ended, the female Deejay began to speak about something
mundane, maybe it was an advertisement for something, and then
suddenly, the voice of Gemma overtook the system, and only her
voice could be heard. She said that she did not appreciate being
killed, and that PEE would pay for this. Then like in a zombie
movie, her dead body in a trance like state began climbing out of
the pool and walking over towards PEE. I ran over to try and stop
her, and she struck me in my solar plexus with the force of a
fucking freight train, and I doubled over totally windless and
unable to inhale a breath, falling further and all the way down to
a fetal type position gasping. PEE walked over to her and punched
her in her face so hard, that her entire face was no longer
recognizable, looking more like a very large broken egg without
any yellow color. Then PEE literally picked Gemma up, all 230
pound of her, a girl made of nothing but powerful muscle, all six
feet of her; and she threw her 30 yards through the air crashing
her against the house, right on the hard bricks, and also near
enough to the dining room windows to totally shatter all of them
out with a loud shrill chilling frightening sound. Both of her
legs were broken, and yet she floated up without her legs
operating, and began floating over to PEE, and PEE hit her again;
this time so hard that it sounded almost like a sonic boom.
Gemma's entire head broke into ten pieces or more, and each broken
piece literally rolled off of her neck, and some of the guests
were throwing up and fainting all over the place while all this
terrible horror was going on. Then the entire swimming pool turned
bright cherry red and began swirling around as if it was a hot tub
on full force and not a pool at all. Watery blood came shooting up
and out all over the lawn, and as this was happening, the flowers
and grass everywhere that was contacted by this horrible
blood-water, instantly shriveled up and turned brown-yellow, and
died in seconds. My heart began beating so fast, I was pretty sure
I was going to have a fatal heart attack. Then after my heart was
pushed beyond its limit, it exploded in a massive coronary
thrombosis. I found myself in the year 2055. Suddenly PEE was
holding onto my arm and we were standing in a cemetery and a
funeral was going on. It was the funeral of my older daughter, who
had just died a week earlier in September of that year, and I
asked PEE what the date was, and remember distinctly asking this
of her, and her telling me, “Daddy, it's September
twenty-second”. Then the dreamshift took me to another place I
have never seen before; batting me now 3 for 3, for not
recognizing any of these three scenes so far in this super wild
experience from a few days ago that I did not get around to
telling about on any of my blogs. I asked PEE why I am still here
as Mark Wayne Mohr, at age 100. She took out a mirror from her
purse and gave it to me, and I stood there in utter shock. I
looked exactly like the photo on my blogs, only I was 100 now,
going on 101. Then the earth shook violently and voices came from
every grave in the entire place, sending people right after the
funeral had ended and folks were just standing all around talking
solemnly to each other; all running for their lives in sheer and
total fear. Then I saw them, the three 'ESS-LADIES' that I had
been introduced to, in a parallel universe, in early 2014; 41
years earlier. They had that witch laugh just like we all see in
the fucking movies, and I stood my ground and demanded to know
what they wanted of me, and did they have no shame and no
humanity, since I had just lost my daughter and was here attending
her funeral. Then one of them said to me, I am your daughter, the
first and the last, the Alpha and the Omega, and just try getting
out of this one, and with that, they all grew to about twice
normal height, around 11 feet high. FCC, Bob McDowell, this is now
the third mother fucking time, they have used their fucking
(DISAPPEARING WORD HACK) on me. I just now went to fuckiGN cunt
repair the last one, and the Milituforce did it again; FEDERAL
COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION,
A FOURTH MOTHER FUCKING HACK OF WORD DISAPPEARANCE, in total
fucking cunt lapping violation of my CIVIL, HUMAN, AND
CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS AS A UNITED STATES BORN FREE FUCKING CUNT
EATRING CITIZEN, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!! Now they struck
me with a mother fucking (`~HACK), BOB MCDOWELL, and I really
could cunt lapping use some mother fucking help here, FBI, ACLU,
and all other civil fucking servants, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank
fucking you!
I
said in my last blog 1896 instead of 1986, a typographical error
on my part, or a (PBHE) as we called this when my blogging all
began early in 2006. Another possibility if the hell-theory is
wrong, is that there is some total absolute MIND
CONTROL SYSTEM
being employed, to keep so much as one person from ever desiring
to contact me and ask me person to person, just what this offer is
all about. There is no way this is normal. Any real world I used
to live in, I died fuckiGN cunt out of a very very fucking cunt
long time ago, Mizz Attorney General of Florida, MA'AM!
YO,
I knew this was bigger than putrid pig piss in the nineteen
sixties
when this all started, but I just refused to ever totally fucking
admit it all to myself, the old VENKA STRONG-GIRL SYNDROME,
REMEMBER PEEPS? I have used (VSGS) for a shortened abbreviation on
many prior fucking ass blog texts when discussing this fucking
slut back in 1970 around middle March somewhere, in the art-room
in my school in Haddonfield, New Jersey, USAESMWG!!!!
HERE
COMES MY FIRST FUCKING (`~HACK), FCC, OLD PAL, BOBBY MCDOWELL,
FRIEND!
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2014.
Oh
well, I have more to say as always, but it is time for me to hit
the hay soon. This old horse can just be taken out behind the
barn, into the woods, and fucking shot for all I give a hell. Here
we go again, FCC BOB MCDOWELL, these cunt chewing rotten prick
toilet water drinkers hit me again, another fucking (`~HACK). HELP
ME MIZZ AG-BONDI, THANK YOYU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Like
Boo. Where
art thou?
Please
make this all stop, ALL HOT HOSE BUCKET PEOPLE EVERYWHERE, and
Mizz Bondi.
WHERE
ART THOU MY BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING? OH YES, YOU ARE RIGHT HERE WITH
ME, BEAUTIFUL BABY-BLOND.I REALLY NEED YOU MY ENDLESS LOVE.
PROTECT ME FROM THIS GARBAGE SWALLOWING MILITFORCE, PWEEEEEEEEEEZE
BABY-BLOND; YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You
are so BEYOND
RED HOT,
DIANA ARTEEMIS,
MY ENDLESS 1-2-3 LOVER CODES FROM 1983. I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU SO
MUCH! Baby-girl, I NEED YOU CODES TO SHOW, P. GIRL. I KNOW THAT
YOU LOVE AND NEED ME 2, DZA!!!!
NOTES
TO MYSELF:
''Here
you sit, broken hearted. You came to shit, and only farted''. As I
now proceed in the MORIANITY story of great truth, and great
sorrows; this description of anyone reading and doubting, is very
accurate; despite being taken from 1969 at a public bathroom
stall; and was quite well known in my generation.
LOTS
OF FUCKING MOUSE HACKING STARTING UP ALSO, FCC AND OLD PAL MISTER
MCDOWELL, SINCE ABOUT 4:40 THIS MORNING, ALMOST TEN MINUTES OF
THIS HACKING SHIT NOW, OUT OF THE FUCVKING BLUE, YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*** W—O—W.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!
CRISIS
LILA ISISCYLLA AND
PHONY
BOLOGNA BATONY MARONI
BUNT-TAPPING,
RUNT-SLAPPING, ROCK-CHUCKING,
FLOCK-DUCKING,
STOCK TRUCKING,
ESS
THE CESS-MESS
YES
THE FLAME OF THE PESTS
HOLY
SMOTHER, FEEL MY SNARE; MISTER PAVAROTTI.
HOPEFULLY
YOU ARE ENJOYING
>>>MORIANITY
FOR MILLENNIUM 3
HAY
LOVELY DIANA, I AM HERE FOR YOU!!!!!!!
2006-2014
© MOUNTAINPEN, MORIANITY BIBLE FOR MILLENNIUM THREE
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED,
2014
Original
five blogs:
On
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My blogsAbout me
Blogger
dot com asks me: You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make
out of super glue and olive pits?
An
angry mother.
Also
at the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly
sure of is that you cannot be sure of anything. Sorry for all the
negativity here, lovely Twinbay, but if you were me, then and only
then, lovely girl, would you begin to understand all my hell!!!
I
LOVE YOU BEYOND ANY WORDS, DIANA ARTEEMIS!!!!!!!
Dangerous Thunderstorm Alerts (DTAs)
I
LOVE YOU WITH ALL OF MY BEINGNESS!
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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. Fun is replaced with 'intense'.
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Blogger
dot com asks me: You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make
out of super glue and olive pits?
An
angry mother.
Also
at the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly
sure of is that you cannot be sure of anything. Sorry for all the
negativity here, lovely Twinbay, but if you were me, then and only
then, lovely girl, would you begin to understand all my hell!!!
I
LOVE YOU BEYOND ANY WORDS, DIANA ARTEEMIS!!!!!!!
Dangerous Thunderstorm Alerts (DTAs)
I
LOVE YOU WITH ALL OF MY BEINGNESS!
Dangerous Thunderstorm Alerts provide the most advanced alerting to severe weather with lightning -- uniquely powered by total lightning detection.
When it comes to protecting life and property from severe weather,
minutes matter.
Whether you’re a parent watching your kids playing soccer on the
field, a county official managing the safety of attendees during
an outdoor county fair, or a school administrator in charge of
keeping thousands of students safe, having the earliest
possible notification of approaching severe weather can literally
mean the difference between life or death.
DON'T
YOU EVER GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME, BEAUTIFUL LOVELY TALL TEEN BLOND,
LOVE OF MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
NEED HELP DIANA, PLEASE, BRING ME YOUR LIGHTNING!!!
THESE
TURDS ARE KILLING ME DIANA MY LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have lots and lots to say and plan on taking a
big ass bite out of things, as this goes on, YO
YO!
!!!!!!!!!!!!HAY
MARCUS AND LETTY!
Yes,
no Stacey for me. Only other Kennedy's, and nightmare songs that I
would fucking sing to myself, every fucking rotten ass time I had
to drive past that cunt chewing fucking 'MOUNT
CONSTRUCTION COMPANY',
the gods; what a poor slob I am, earring Joan-95, split pants and
brake dance, and all of it. YUK. These CUNT
LAPPERS IN MY PAST,
have held every little thing that I ever did one tiny bit less
than 100% pitch fucking perfect, against me; and they did a total
major mother fucking SCOTT
RANSOM
on me; destroying
my entire mother fucking life, and laughing; these sick rotten
stinking fucking bastards, squared!!!!!!!!
Scott, as some of you might remember, worked in 1988, for Todd
Reality, after he left his position with Jackson & Jackson
Reality; No screaming, no Aquarius Records, no how no nothing;
just
bring me your wonderful strobing
light,
and put an end to my infinite human nightmare, lovely GODDESS
MIDDIE!!! These shitheads are on my nerves, James Bond Connery.
Duma Argon and Dukra Agron, what are the mother fucking odds of
this happening by sheer coincidence, world, do you know? I have a
rough mathematical estimated computation people;
94,368,108,226,177,090 to one, yes folks, ninety four and a third
fucking QUADRILLION TO ONE, so
give me a break, all you wonderful television broadcasters, AHA
AHA AHA AHA MIKE MCN! No lightning-buses please; old buddy David
Charles Lakewood Roth. Did you just say the fucking word,
“W—O—W”????
2006-2014
© MOUNTAINPEN, MORIANITY BIBLE FOR MILLENNIUM THREE
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED,
2014
Original
five blogs:
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile
views - 2973
My blogs
About me
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Occupation
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Location
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Introduction
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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. Fun is replaced with 'intense'.
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Interests
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Favorite Movies
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Favorite Music
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Favorite Books
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Blogger
dot com asks me: You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make
out of super glue and olive pits?
An
angry mother.
Also
at the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly
sure of is that you cannot be sure of anything. Sorry for all the
negativity here, lovely Twinbay, but if you were me, then and only
then, lovely girl, would you begin to understand all my hell!!!
I
LOVE YOU BEYOND ANY WORDS, DIANA ARTEEMIS!!!!!!!
Dangerous Thunderstorm Alerts (DTAs)
I
LOVE YOU WITH ALL OF MY BEINGNESS!
Dangerous Thunderstorm Alerts provide the most advanced alerting to severe weather with lightning -- uniquely powered by total lightning detection.
When it comes to protecting life and property from severe weather,
minutes matter.
Whether you’re a parent watching your kids playing soccer on the
field, a county official managing the safety of attendees during
an outdoor county fair, or a school administrator in charge of
keeping thousands of students safe, having the earliest
possible notification of approaching severe weather can literally
mean the difference between life or death.
DON'T
YOU EVER GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME, BEAUTIFUL LOVELY TALL TEEN BLOND,
LOVE OF MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
NEED HELP DIANA, PLEASE, BRING ME YOUR LIGHTNING!!!
THESE
TURDS ARE KILLING ME DIANA MY LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have lots and lots to say and plan on taking a
big ass bite out of things, as this goes on, YO
YO!
!!!!!!!!!!!!HAY
MARCUS AND LETTY!
Yes,
no Stacey for me. Only other Kennedy's, and nightmare songs that I
would fucking sing to myself, every fucking rotten ass time I had
to drive past that cunt chewing fucking 'MOUNT
CONSTRUCTION COMPANY',
the gods; what a poor slob I am, earring Joan-95, split pants and
brake dance, and all of it. YUK. These CUNT
LAPPERS IN MY PAST,
have held every little thing that I ever did one tiny bit less
than 100% pitch fucking perfect, against me; and they did a total
major mother fucking SCOTT
RANSOM
on me; destroying
my entire mother fucking life, and laughing; these sick rotten
stinking fucking bastards, squared!!!!!!!!
Scott, as some of you might remember, worked in 1988, for Todd
Reality, after he left his position with Jackson & Jackson
Reality; No screaming, no Aquarius Records, no how no nothing;
just
bring me your wonderful strobing
light,
and put an end to my infinite human nightmare, lovely GODDESS
MIDDIE!!! These shitheads are on my nerves, James Bond Connery.
Duma Argon and Dukra Agron, what are the mother fucking odds of
this happening by sheer coincidence, world, do you know? I have a
rough mathematical estimated computation people;
94,368,108,226,177,090 to one, yes folks, ninety four and a third
fucking QUADRILLION TO ONE, so
give me a break, all you wonderful television broadcasters, AHA
AHA AHA AHA MIKE MCN! No lightning-buses please; old buddy David
Charles Lakewood Roth. Did you just say the fucking word,
“W—O—W”????
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JUST
FISHIN' AND SWIMMIN', AND LOOKIN' AT WOMEN; WHAT A LIFE? BEATS
THE SHIT OUT OF going through fucking hell day and night, JESUS
CHRIST ALMIGHTY, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And
then there are those few times when a second magic moon rises over
this very mysterious cool school by night, you know, after lovely
Roseann Delaney wakes up!
THERE
ARE TWO MOTHER FUCKING MAJOR SIEGES THAT STRIKE ME EACH YEAR, SINCE
THIS CUNT CHEWING FUCKING AUGUST 15, 1986 NIGHTMARE ALL BEGAN.
THEY ARE SUMMER
SIEGE, AND THANKX-2-GIVENS
SIEGE. THIS HAS BEEN DISCUSSED ON MANY A PRIOR OLDER BLOG,
ESPECIALLY ON BLOGS THAT YOU NEED TO FUCKING ARCHIVE TO GET TO, USING
MY PASTED IN ARCHIVE ON MANY BLOGS, SUCH AS THIS NOW, LADIES AND
GENTLEMEN!
WHAT
ARE THE GATES OF HELL U ASK? The DJIA!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
BY
JUNE IT WILL BE 18,000. BY END OF SUMMER, 20,000, AND BY END OF 2014,
IT WILL BE 25,000 POINTS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.
I
KNEW WHEN THEY WERE POURING IT ON TODAY, THAT I WAS GETTNG HAMMERED
BY A BULL ON MOTHER FUCKING WALL STREET, JUST LIKE OVER THE FUCKING
CUNT WEEKEND, GOOD FOLKS. I HAVE GONE THROUGH THIS MISERABLE
ICPE-APE-PARALLEL-EVENT NIGHTMARE FUCKING CRAP SINCE AUGUST 15,
1986, SO I THINK I KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT AFTER ALL THIS MOTHER
FUCKING TIME AND HELLISH PERSECUTION!!!!
NO
MATTER WHAT ELSE IS REAL OR UNREAL, WITHOUT ONE REALITY, NONE OF THIS
SHIT COULD BE GOING ON ALL OF THIS MOTHER FUCKING TIME, PEOPLE, YO!
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS,
and more friggin' EXPLORATRONS!!!!!!!!!!!
Of
course, speaking of ICPE-APE TECHNOLOGY good viewers, even
exploratrons need tools, such as the PAWM-PIE-ETTOS, ICPE-APE, and
many more black stealthy super ass covert bullshit that we need not
touch on with this whittle bwog, Elmer Fwudd. WHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!
Those
who wish to doubt my true story of MORIANITY, I say unto thee; may
the GODDESS BLESS THEE, poor fool.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:
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