Friday, October 3, 2014

ICPISTMCMM, CHAPTER 00031




























MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM-3











ICPISTMCMM











CHAPTER 00031



























Well kind people, this was another real bad day. If I were in a correctional facility, these are the types of days I could expect all of the time, and I would be deserving of them. But I never broke any law above misdemeanor traffic offenses as a younger person, and nothing since my fifties at all. Yet the response that life, whatever that really is, Professor M. Kaku of NYU, sir; hands me, for keeping my hands squeaky clean and never bothering a soul, or taking what does not belong to me and only me, and on I could go with this; goes beyond horrendous and monstrous, and is even beyond anyone's conception of a maxed totally out inconceivable and unfathomable. No words could do juctice, to my lack of juctice in this life of pure emmereffing hell, 24-7-365.2422 for 60 years, without a break, or a let up, other than the three port in the storm years that gave me tiny little breaks, while all the while, cleverly setting me up, all three of those times, for what was to follow, and that was some shit that was not pretty, I assure you. Grown sailor men would lose their lunch on my life, and I assure you that several folks have already lost some of their sanity over just small parts of it, such as my Saint Barnabas Crisis Counselor in Cherry Hill, Kieth, coworker at Roadway Joe Paget, and I promise you, the list goes only onward and onward. If someone could show me a number that stretches to no end, I would say they found the number rather than the symbol for infinity. Well in like manner, if someone could prove to me that anyone else on this planet ever, could survive what I have had to take for sixty years and remain at least somewhat sociologically functional; I would stop believing in my deepest heart, that I have gone into a condition that bible scholars call, ''HELL'', decades ago. I want very much to be proven wrong. No one is able to, and they try it, convinced that they can do this, and then do one of two things, literally go off their nut, or get angry and dangerously aggressive and hostile with me because I have taken them beyond their birth created maxed out mental programming of the natural world order of the possibilities scales.





This blog is not going to be one of Terry Egghead Jerseyharbor's favorites, but that's just too bad. It will indeed scatter-brain all around, but I do indeed have a method to my madness, and you'll need to trust me on this. Otherwise, click onto other blogs, like Mary-Kay and her home made berry ice cream recipes, or the Blogs of three wild seamen, or you might even try the Blogs of Satan Worshiper Jack Jackson Junior of Mississippi. But staying here will do one thing that none of these others can do for you. They can prove to you that you will never ever die the way you now feel and think you know anything about the mysterious of the life and death reality, and obn top of all that, you will see a few things in a newer light, again, of you stay open minded, and don't do a Warren Grove, New Jersey summer of 1997 Dave Roth on me, when I get pretty far out there, and believe me people, I will be getting out there. You see, I don't know how much time that I have left, and I must complete the parts of Morianity, that will at least serve to allow others to take my place, hopefully someday down the road, and finish it to its natural conclusion, and any dummy in the world, can see that the god of the Jewish Bible is real, and lives a life not that far away from the lives we all live, but in a totally upline reality, just as I told you all boldly about, nine years ago when all these blogs began. You all know her full name when pronounced by waking world English speaking tongues, SSJKK, and you all know, I claim all of this to be 100% non-fictional, the entire blogs of the past nine years, the BOM, or whatever, old friend Congressman Andrews from 1975-1980!









First, Mark Wayne Mohr will not celebrate, but rather mourn, his 60th fucking birthday two months from tomorrow, Saturday, on 12-04. 1954-2014 is 60 years, like DUH. This is the most front set part of the real me, or my active memories. As it fades into small childhood and baby-hood, and then to the first weeks of my life as the me that I am, it used to be totally black and empty, a tiny memory here and there. Now all the stuff at age four and back month after month in reverse, this entire memory is clearer than the past week, well, not this past week, as this past week has been hell on fucking Earth for me, from last Saturday through this middle late Friday evening. I have a clear memory of the day I was born and the snow falling outside of the hospital window, in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania. Nobody ever told me it was snowing on my date of birth, this was not some planted idea-memory. But you know people, I watch all of you in your tons of desire to know powerful truths yet you stay dumb as a pile of cum. Even planted memories, merely come from parallel universes, as do dream memories, and there is so much more, way to complicated for me to start tackling with you all today. This is why Goddess made new days for me to get all GABBY about! That little squib a couple days back was anything but a joke. It is the way it all works, and is called PHASE-4. My blogs spoke of this once, and I hope to get back to this again, but when my life is being literally snuffed out by total pigs who should be taken out and shot slowly to death and left to be eaten by wild animals in the woods; this leaves me to need to alter my plans and rearrange shit around just a little bit. Any logician obviously sees my mindset here, and would agree with me.






Now I wanted to create the GAWNUM as an APP for these new phone-computers, but King Entertainment and other thjieves beat me to the punch, despite my having something that doubles as a fun game if that is all most wish to use the program for, but for those who want to take the JACKSON ADVICE of 35 years ago, and “GET SERIOUS”; that can also be done with GAWNUM, and the sky is the limit, with the top program, and a 5 terra-bite computer, or in that neighborhood. I told you all that I was informed by a powerful source of mine up in the great Poolroy-City of 13-600, that this system was used to kill Mister Terrorist BL, by the NSA, who of course would deny this whole heartedly and take all of the glory and credit for themselves. Still, if I was a go getter and a self started, and I was just not born that way, so sorry lovely wild Lady Gaga, but that's just the reality of things, but if I was; King Entertainment's rip off would not stop me from getting my APP out onto the global market, as my shit is real, and is major, and the world would fall in love with it as soon as it caught on. I would be the next billionaire and I already fully know it. But that's not to be, and I also totally know THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











Now I used the GAWNUM just a short while ago after the explosion outside my door here at 601 Avenue B, Unit #607, here in Fort Pierce, Florida around quarter shy of seven give or take some minutes, with my ex-cleaning lady who will be paid her fifty smacks tomorrow when I go out to the bank and get her cash, and then I am forever done with this monster!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Here comes the fucking cunt lapping world famous (`~HACK) Bob FCC McDowell, at seven past ten this Friday asshole evening, old buddy, and kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







The fucking hacking is beginning, and I know my rotten miserable daughter, MC, is behind this horror, and has been since I bought that garbage 2008 stuff from her, and loaded it into my computer back then, not this computer, but she and her friends can pull off anything they want, and anyone who cannot see this, pure and simply said and put, is a total ignorant wad of pure shit for brains, cubed!!!!









5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555





A MOTHER FUCKING MORON CHILD CAN SEE THAT WHORE JANE FONDA BITCH JUST GOT ME WITH HER PAGE FUCKING ELEVEN OF ELEVEN, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!!!!!!!!!!! SO I WAS FORCED TO FUCKING COMPENSATE.









Maybe you can see, kind folks; I AM HAVING A PWETTY FUCKED UP WOTTEN DAY, BRO!!!!!!!!!











































MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS

© BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN/MWM/2006-2014




My Photo















So what did I ask the GAWNUM, and what answer did I get back from an all wise Astral-Plane Panther????????????????????????





I asked shy I am under this fucking hell for a solid week now, from Saturday last right through this Friday present? His response was PCN-761.





My match-list of items for PCN-761, are as follows, ladies and gentlemen:







ECLIPSE, SHARKEY, SOMEDAY WILL MARRY, NOTHING, IS VIQUEEN JEWELLY, THROAT SPECIALIST, SINGING CHRISTMAS TREE ANGEL.

















The word, 'narrty' is Astral Plane Olympian Province translation to waking world English language to the word of 'marry'. Forgive me for using it accidentally on a near-previous blog. 'M' and 'N', as in cigarettes and Sarah Karge, and her cigar flicking on Tennessee Avenue in 1997, or when I was dreaming that it was summer time in July of 1997 actually; but these are interchangeable OP Astral Plane letters and pronunciations. When the 'N' is used instead of the 'M' however, a 'T' needs to precede the letter 'Y'. But I am not here to give a lot of speech information on this blog after this kind of a monster ass day. But indeed, powerful reasons exist, when I was dreaming it was July 11, 1997, before waking up on the twelfth, and seeing Viqueen-Mini-Great Elly, on the Black Horse Pike in the Blenheim, New Jersey vicinity; for all of these things to have been recently blogged, such as the words marry and narrty being equal sounds, Astrally, such as Trick or treat being pronounced as Tricky-teet-teet, and the number seventeen, is sevteenteen. I do not know why while awake, as I do when I am completely dead and on the Astral-plane, and even if I did, why would I tell. All I ever manage to do is to dig myself deeper and fuckiGN deeper holes that I then need to try getting out of, while those very words echo so loudly inside my brain, simultaneously, BRAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! I was abducted without my consent onto this plane many times, once meeting THAT FAMILY in the summer of 1970, in powerful dreaming interactions in the hyperspace, while staying at the 'pervo's house on Cornball Avenue', in the town just to south of Atlantic City, New Jersey, called, Ventnor.







Those out here in Cyber-Village, who do know about the GAWNUM, standing for of course, Gawky Gaukauk's Numerology; may have messed with it and seen how it works in their own lives, and had some real mind blowing experiences. A few may think, it has to be garbage because get what is not compatible, the word MOTHER and the word FATHER? Well, let me remind you, there are complexities beyond your simple knowledge of this. First, there are branchcodes, and second, there are more than 2-compat-coding equations. Of course mother and father are not compatible. What a mother and father does to become those things, is to bring into the world, a dreaming entity, in flesh form, known as a baby. If you get the PCN of mother and the PCN of father, no it is not compatible, as why would they be, of its own standing. But plug baby into the mix, and it is a powerful compatible equation. You can indeed use three and four items to be compared for compatibility study, and the same rule applies to the added total. At least one digit on all lines must be in the total or the PCNT. So 642+671 is the quintessential fooler, for those that think they understand the science of the GAWNUM, and might even make a Munster Mockingbird out of those who play with a little knowledge. Mother and father added up, oh boy, it is 1313, as in Munster Mockingbird Lane, and no, not compatible. But throw in the word 'BABY' or add PCN-431 to the 642 and the 671, and now the PCNT=1544, with numbers above the PCNT being hit all over the place like zaps of static charge when taking a wool blanket in the cold dry north winters, and rub it over your hair if it is long. You'll see LIGHTNING SHOOT OUT OF YOUR HAND in gorgeous colors, and hear little snap sounds. Multiply this millions of times, and you would be getting struck by lovely lightning, only you would not know it, as you would be standing in front of this beautiful blond girl, eighteen years old endlessly, named Diana Arteemis. She is a very wonderful sweet Goddess. But not to get me off onto that tangent or i'll totally forget my point; yes, a lot of the numbers are hit many times, and the same rule exists, at least one from each line, in this case three lines, must be in the PRIVATE-COSMICODED NUMBER TOTAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





Well despite this hellish week, I have averaged 2.3 units on five days of one game play. One day I was blessed like heaven manna with green roulette numbers on the two higher of the 5-staged bets. One day I quit a few bucks down and played it safe, so that was my average, even with the vig of the game house left inside, which was removed when this began as a simple luck testing method. I know how much the fucking fart sniffing WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE loves hearing this shit, WHAAAAAAAAAAA-BIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







I have taken a lot of enemies discussed on these blogs, and asked many things, not with cards and dice to get random conversion numerations, but by seeing if sentence breaks are compatible, one to another, such as the one told about in the recent blog where I learned that my pills were taken, but it was more ESS involved, and not just someone deciding on a whim to do this evil thing to me, and then deny it so viciously and treat me like I was the horrible fuckiGN jerk off this early evening. This type of fuckign shit has gone on since I was god dam knee high to a small dam kitten, this didn't fucking start three months ago while crossing over Grant Avenue from I-95, lovely daughter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







Give me a break, this last week, I asked why it all went down with the pills being robbed out of my apartment, and the whole fuckiGN cunt eating nine yards. Look again at those PCN answers from the magical kitty cat from Province Olympia, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!







just look at the magical Timeless Satellite calendars, old phone taper buddy from 1973 after I was in computer school, and out of Emmylouville of Endless Laughs from the Morons Club of Haddonfield, and the child pervo's as well. My kid is annoying me to death, Pam Bondi, and your running anti-mate, if you are out there ever. He is going loudly back and forth on an illegally piped motorcycle, down Seventh Street here in town, right past my window at after eleven fucking cunt of the clock, and this is illegal crime gang activity, Sheriff Mascara, oh great sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





Yes let me repeat those powerful items that are part of why I am going through this past week of fuckiGN pussy chewing hypertime hell, YO BRO!











ECLIPSE, SHARKEY, SOMEDAY WILL MARRY, NOTHING, IS VIQUEEN JEWELLY, THROAT SPECIALIST, SINGING CHRISTMAS TREE ANGEL.



























MY DAM ASS COMPUTER HACKING IS BEGINNING TO GET REAL BAD; FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION. IT SEEMS MY DAM LOUSY DAUGHTER AND HER ROTTEN RIAA FRIENDS, AREN'T AFRAID OF YOU, OR ANYBODY, WHY NOT SHOW THEM THEY DON'T TOTALLY RULE AS MUCH AS THEY THINK THEY DO, YO, OLD PAL???????? THESE SLIME BALLS JUST REMOVED AND HACKED OFF A WORD, AND I MANAGED TO RESTORE IT ONTO THE DOCUMENT. THEY HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN TEASE ME AND LIVE IN FANTASY LAND WITH THEIR GARBAGE ENTERTAINMENT SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!









OCTOBER 3, 2014,

LATE ON BOTBAR ASS FRIDAY NIGHT, AT 11:18

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 75 DEGREES FNHT.

DAILY TEMPERATURE RANGE, (H-93/L-74)

HUMIDITY IS 100%, FEELING FUCKING CUNT 80.



PLEASE DO NOT BE SHOCKED WHEN HUGE FUCKING METEORS STRIKE THIS EARTH, AS MAGGIE WILL EVENTUALLY FUCKING KICK IN FOR ME, I PROMISE YOU ALL THIS MUCH!!!











WHOEVER YOU ARE, YOU ARE SO FUCKING TWISTED AND SCREWED UP, IT WOULD TAKE TEN FUCKING HITLER'S TO EQUAL YOUR ILLNESS, AND YOUR ENDLESS CRUELITY, MOTHER FUCKING JERK OFF SCUM BAG TRASH ASS DIRT BALLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



















I WATCHED ALL THIS GO DOWN, THINKING IT WAS ALL ABOUT ME, AFTER 08/15/1986, AND A LOT OF IT WAS USED ON AND AGAINST ME, AND MANY LIKE ME. BUT THIS WAS NOT THE WHOLE COMPLETE PICTURE BY ANY STRETCH OF THE TRUTH. THESE DEMONS IN BODIES WERE SLOWLY WAITING TO FUCKIGN CUNT CARRY OUT ALL THESE THINGS THAT I SAW ALL BEGIN, ON THAT FATEFUL UGLY FUCKIGN DATE AS SHOWN ABOVE. IT WASN'T BECAUSE OF ANYTHING THAT WENT DOWN TWO WEEKS EARLIER IN NYC FOLKS, I PROMISE. THEY MERELY USED ALL OF FUCKIGN THIS, AS THE ULTIMATE FIGHTER JET PHILOSOPHY KNOWN ALSO AS THE TOM CRUISE TOP GUN (WHAT'S MY EXCUSE) SYNDROME (OR THE WMES).





Now if the WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES keep this shit going through the weekend and into next week, there will be a lot of flirtatious pussies chasing me, IF that is, I go out and mingle around in public places, you know, shopping malls, the beach, whatever, and this is precisely what I PLAN TO DO, if they don't mother fucking knock this fucking shit the fucking hell off!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They don't want people like me with girlfriends, or anyone, for that matter. I tried to call Mikey down in fuckiGN cunt Lauderdale, and they jimmied up the phone again; to where I hear him and someone else talking and they cannot hear me, just like before with him a couple months back, and also just like back early in the winter time in 1980 when I lived in that Mantua, New Jersey house before moving the first of three times into the Robin Hill Apartments, and called my night boss at the recording studio, RPL, and heard his wife and her girlfriend, but they could not hear me. These fucking demons from hell want me 100% isolated, no friends, no nothing. Then on top of that, only enemies all over the fuckiGN place to deal fuckiGN with. As I said earlier in this blog, if THIS IS NOT HELL, THEN SOMEONE HAS DONE AN EXPERT JOB MAKING THIS SIMULATION, Professor Kaku-NYU, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







MAGNESONIC, DESTROY THESE ENEMIES AND THEIR LOVED ONES, OR YOU WILL BE DESTROYED AND THAT'S A PROMISE, MMMMMMMMMMM, AND S---T---O---P!!!!!!!!!!! THIS AIN'T NO WAKE UP BUMP SONG, MEDIA PRESS, THIS IS YOUR OFFICIAL FUCKING WAKE UP WARNING, FROM KING TECHNO-POOP, old shoes and all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







Sometimes we can catch more flies with sugar than we can with fucking ass vinegar. This is how I managed to keep my measly food and medical bennies late last year, as some of my viewers just might fucking ass remember, WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

I then cleverly fed her lots of subtle but unmissable compliments, and she began to respond, and I got exactly what I needed. I do not believe in using these so called ''The-Mentalist-TV'' Patrick Jane abilities, not normally. But I am so down and fucking out, that I had, as Barnabas Collins said to that gorgeous young blond girl in the late nineteen-sixties, ''NO CHOICE''. He said to her that she left him no choice but to do a Roseann Delaney on her and bite her throat out, so she'd need an Enzemeter to sing real well after that day, if she lived, I guess, Mike McNulty; even if she shared another PP and my favorite color; right Annsaga King Songwriter of Atlantic City and Hammonton??????? WOW has Jane Fucking Whore been striking me continually without mercy, lads and lassies, and I will someday promise to piss right on her miserable mother fuckiGN grave, more than once!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

















MORE MAJOR MOUSE AND GENERAL COMPUTER HACKING FROM MY WHACK JOB KID, OLD BUDDY, BOBBY. I KNOW IT IS HER. I USED TI THGINK IT WAS MAYBE HER, BUT THAT FUCKIGN SHIT ON THE FUCKIGN NEWS A COUPLE NIGHTS BACK, WAS MORE THAN TECHNO-POPPED ROAD LIFE SAVING STRIPS, THAT TOLD ME ALL I NEEDED TO FUCKIGN CUNT HEAR, FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION!!!!!!!!!

































TODAY WAS SUPER MOTHER FUCKING BOTBAR, ANOTHER WORST ONE EVER.









BETWEEN HALF PAST FIVE AND CLOSE TO SIX SOMEWHERE, MY CLEANING LADY CAME UP TO BALL ME OUT FOR ACCUSING HER OF TAKING MY PILLS, AND NOT PAYING HER TODAY AS PROMISED. SHE DOUBTS MY WORD THAT I WILL PAY HER OVER THE WEEKEND. SHE HANDED ME A LONG SONG AND DANCE ABOUT HOW TRUSTWORTHY SHE IS AND GOES INTO APARTMENTS WHERE NEARLY A THOUSAND DOLLARS IN CASH IS, AND EVERYONE TRUSTS HER, AND ON AND ON WITH THIS SORT OF MALARKEY. I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, AND HOW SHE CAN STRAIGHT FACE LIE TO ME AND TURN IT AROUND AND MAKE ME THE HEAVY, AS I KNEW SHE WOULD, AS LIFE ALWAYS WORKS THIS WAY, BUT HOW PEOPLE CAN DO THIS, PROVES TO ME, THE ESS IS REAL, AND THE ESS IS DOING THIS TO ME. MAYBE ONE HER DOPPELGANGERS GOT IN HER TO MAKE HER DO THIS, AND WON'T EVEN LET HER REMEMBER. MAYBE I REALLY DID HIT AND SPIT ON THAT QUAKERTOWN, PENNSYLVANIA SCHOOL BUS, AS THOSE MANY FELLOW STUDENTS ALL CLAIMED THAT I DID, IF THIS IS ALL TRUE, THIS IS INDEED WHY THE NSA IS KEEPING A SUPER TIGHT LID ON WHAT YOU ALL SEE AS THE ALIEN-UFO SITUATION. AS I TYPE THIS, A GIGANTIC RAINBOW IS SITTING RIGHT OFF THE ATLANTIC OCEAN, TO THE RIGHT OF MY FRONT WINDOWS THAT FACE NORTH AT TWENTY PAST SIX THIS EVENING. THANK YOU JEHOVAH FOR LETTING ME KNOW YOU CARE AND ARE WATCHING OVER ME, BROWN EYES! I KNOW YOU WON'T LET THIS GET TOO MUCH WORSE, AND WILL END MY LIFE IN THIS HELL SOON, HOPEFULLY, AS I CANNOT TAKE MUCH MORE OF THIS, TEEN QUEEN ALMIGHTY GODDESS SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, MY LONG HAIRED LOVE.





There is no time to blog right now, things must be taken care of, so I put this little tweety-bird-blog up. A friend from a while back knows a place where I can purchase a large supply of quick death poison. This is my only way out, and all my murderers stand accused on these nine years of the Blogs Of Mountainpen. A few rumbles of thunder are also around. IWALU SSJKK, punish and destroy me all you want to, I LOVE YOU!





















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The Magic Moons Charter School, of Port Saint Lucie, Florida; and Morianity; are a little bit like a song I wrote and copyrighted in early 1988 from my small Moorestown, New Jersey home, owned by Mister Jim Wilson. WE ARE HERE. I don't have to state this as fact, and I don't have to prove any of this to a soul. My time capsule at least until the world goes 100 percent kaplooey; is the great and powerful (GAP) Copyright Office, up in Washington, District of Columbia.




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#
Name (NALL) <
Full Title
Copyright Number
Date
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
PAu000662409
1984
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
PAu000724397
1985



Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
PAu001148157
1988
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
PAu001189027
1989













The (`~HACK) is getting nasty again, Bob McDowell, FCC. I just don't bother yelling about this rubbish, electronically; every single emmereffing time that it occurs.







Johnny Fucker Faster, WOW you could tell that one so good, old FCC buddy, back in 1972 in Dan Mackey's friggin' class. WEEEEEEEEEE! I will bet you remember lovely blond Amy. Speaking of RIAA as we both know she became one of their biggest deals in a decade or less; did you hear the news item, my old FCC buddy and Chairman; that stated when you go to many recording artist websites, you will find yourself major hacked afterward? This made the news a day or so ago, locally here in South Central Eastern Florida, and brought back some pretty wow-powerful memories of OHM-8. Is this being done by the hacker crazy's, or are these nut case artists doing it? You see, Bob, what bugs the hell out of me, right here and right now in present time of October of OHM-FOURTEEN, is that I say things that are real, and I am just a pile of shit. If I had any clout at all, my shit would not be ignored, except for the WOMO'S. They of course, sir, know I am for real, and are causing a lot of this to begin with. Just thought I'd bring you this tid bit little newsworthy item for you to 'gnaw on', to quote my late mom from the past century. Boy aren't we old as shit, past centuries, decades ago for most things we think and talk about, like fucking WOW, YO! Anyway, if you're getting my message, old buddy, you can call me Johnny Slower now, and I would really appreciate it if you looked into this thing, as I don't think it is fair for me to have to suffer in silence. I must be real dam careful with this next thing, but go ahead, if you know my history since my daughter was ten or so. Have someone drive or fly by my place within a week or so. See the house next to the building, towards US Highway 1? If I don't shut up, I can be next. This is real hell, being scared to death of my kid, along with so many other life hassles, but then, were all of them generated all this time, by my own wonderful loins? I will always love this great goddess!









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OCTOBER 3, 2014,

FRIDAY MORNING AT 12:24,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE, 76 DEGREES FNHT.

HUMIDITY IS 100%, FEELING 82.

YESTERDAY'S TEMPERATURE RANGE (H-92/L-73)

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

YEAH ALEX-2001, I'M A SICK MOTHER FUCKING SHIT.

































DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDA SAME OLD FUCKING SONG, NO DIFFERENT BEAT, NO BEING GONE, OR HERE, JUST ENDLESSNESS, AND UNRELENTING FUCKING HUNTINGTON CURSES, THAT FOLLOWED THIS FAMILY OF MINE NOW FOR ROUGHLY 12 AND A HALF THOUSAND GOD DAM YEARS, MY BRAHHHH!!!











HUMAN LIFE = ENDLESS CONUNDRUMS”; M.W.M.








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HARRY POTTER WAS NOT
CREATED BY A HUMAN FICTION
WRITER. HARRY POTTER
CREATED THAT WRITER AND
MADE HER FORGET THAT.





Well Kevin Moore, great Youtube sensation, you want to know more about the Christ Android, since you obviously did what you did some years ago, regarding my discussing this with Mister Shorty MacInvondi. Oh Captain, gimme' a break, along with 1985's great and awesome, Woodbury Heights, Marge Leo. “The Christ Android”. One big bang, huh Elcapitan Picard Dulegender Planetstrand???

Then when I was on the fucking telephone talking with the mighty mega-giant, COMCAST, one lady transferred me just to get fucking rid of me, and then the second one would not help me fix a simple problem with my cable television box. Now I have a small fucking cut out piece of thick cardboard, masking taped to the fucking cable box so that their bright yellow message light does not keep me awake all mother fucking cunt eating ass night. It seems it is my fault that they send me a message, and there is no way to fucking delete it. I am mailing my letter of complaint to my congressman tomorrow after work at the harvest where you can all see my ugly fucking puss on the website, just click into fucking http://www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ and fucking see me and pray for me. Pray that that evil mother fucking LUCIFER stops fucking up my entire life, HIM and that entire fucking family that he recently married into, 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!!!!

Paula, Sarah, Nina, Sandy, and the Shaw of Iran, mixed with my good old fucking Aunt Geraldine Snow, and you have one motley mother fucking crew.

APOLLO-LUCIFER, MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-MILITUFORCE-OTAMMITE KING, ETCETERA, (all the same difference), is out to fucking wipe me the shit out with a total vengeance. Him and his fucking powerful oblitron box, and his twin sister and HER chain that SHE took from me in a powerful dream interaction back in December of mother fucking 1969. As I fucking said peeps, and now in cock sucking reiteration, MY STORY TELLS ITSELF, so suppress it all you fucking want to world. It is truth, and fuck all of you!!!!!!!!!

If anyone on Planet Earth knows and has the fucking ability to verify my true story, ALL OF IT, it is the mother fucking UNITED STATES FREAKING COPYRIGHT OFFICE DOWN IN WASHINGTON, FREAKING, DISTRICT OF FREAKING COLUMBIA, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When the second lady tried to get the light off of my cable box with her remote control operation from the office, the entire cable went out and many strange things happened. It totally reminds me exactly of the story told on the internet as well as on many BERMUDA TRIANGLE DOCUMENTARIES, where the radio station fucking talk show host was commandeered, equipment-wise, by those calling themselves, and I QUOTE, the {{{(((“MILLIONTH-COUNCIL”)))}}}. Every mother fucking twat eating claim that I ever make or have made or will go on making on this wide world web system is totally true and accurate, and can be backed up by anybody with the fucking desire to GOOGLE around and find it all out for themselves, BRAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This evil fucking family wants war with me, fine. How many secrets about many of them do I know, that they wish to the gods I did not know, and making that vulgar show is no more than non-military equivalents of disinformation, and will not buffer the secrets that I could tell, and prove.














MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3


























To be completely honest, lads and lassies; it is beyond surreal and weird, my life really is, next to anyone else's anywhere ever. I wish this was not true, but it is true, and the head shrinks want me to deny this reality. They know better because they read books and stayed in college until they stood in a crowd wearing stupid looking hats and graduating from something, making them believe that they know something, just what, is anybody's mother fucking total guess, I for one am totally and absolutely clueless, and admit to it openly.



Yes the start of my second decade here in this world, as MARK WAYNE MOHR, or the early nineteen sixties, wasted no time whatsoever, bringing me the very first of the soon to follow, endless unrelenting games containing playfield after playfield of nothing short of my mother fucking life in total unfathomable torrid horrid HELL, with or without the singing glee's of the Tora Lora Lora Lora Lies and other birds singing that the springtime is here.






You missed me dirt bag fucking JANE ONESATTACK, you rotten water witch bitch from 1993. HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





OCTOBER 2, 2014,
THURSDAY AFTERNOON AT 2:11,
HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT TEMPERATURE, 89 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY IS 65% AND IT FEELS 99 TO THE SKIN.






OH YES GREAT PEOPLE, HMMM, THAT ELECTRONIC THROAT OF MINE, ANIWHO; LEX LOO THOR KNOWS HOW GREAT WE ALL ARE IN THE ORIGINAL SUPERMAN MOVIE UPON ADVICE GIVEN TO HIM BY HIS WONDERFUL AND MARVELOUS DAD WHEN HE WAS BUT A CHILD, STILL; IT WAS ON THE 27 ELECTRICAL DAY THAT MY MEDICINES WERE STOLEN BY MISS NICE-PERSON, BACK LAST SATURDAY. MY LAST BLOG WAS CHAPTER NUMBER 27 IN THE CURRENT BLOG-BOOK. HOW LONG WAS IT SINCE THREE OR MORE BLOGS WERE DONE THE ON THE VERY SAME DAY, FOLKS? TELLS YOU SOMETHING, IN OR OUT OF ATLANTIC CITY AND ITS ONCE GOLDEN NUGGET STEVE WINN CASINO, BUT THEN CUZZ; “LIKE A GIVE A SHIT”/







I GOT THE CRAP KNOCKED OUT OF ME AFTER FALLING ASLEEP THE NIGHT BEFORE, AFTER TELLING HOW NO ONE WOULD WISH TO THINK ABOUT SOME THINGS TWO AND AN EIGHTH BILLION TIMES ANNUALLY. I KIND OF KNEW SARAH-STACEY KRASSLE WOULD WHOOP MY ASS, TO QUOTE ME' OL' BB BUB, MISTER CHARLES BARKLEY.






























































































SSSSSSSOOOOOOO Arthur Crane; let me crash off to sleep now; and I'll BE BACHHK Governor Muscles. “I'm back”, Freddy Elmstreet! Yes Slow Mark and Slow Robbie, meet another traveler, as they say, things come in threes, hello, Fast-Jesse!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Man you dudes need to get your act together up there in 13-600sville, YO. I could provide the fucking White House with better security than all you buttwipes.





Look, I can go all over the place, to other times and other dimensions, and the problem is that no one in the world is ready for a bunch of non registered private journey travelers, skipping across the hyperspace, doing all sorts of things that the world powers have no power or control over. The problem I will always have with all of this shit is the evental-time-warp of 1987, and my pal David. If they did not want all this to happen, they should have just allowed me to live a normal life, which is all I ever wanted to fucking do in the first place, not be here trying to create the one and only religion for an entire millennium. It is these paradoxes and philosophical conundrums that just don't cut it in the making sense department, and I'll be the fucking first dude at the gate holding up a huge sign saying just that!






Did I make up Paula Uwich? Did I make up CALL-TEN and CALLIO in the nineties? Did I make up Rodney Brindamoor and hay Mohr, you don't know Brenda Moore, she's like 21? I did I make up Jim Burr or Dave Roth? Tell me something, promise breaker twice over, Mizz Voorhees Magazine, who paid or threatened you off to blow me out or else? You know my book in 1994 was real dam good, and told me so, and you are a hot shot in the literary bizz. No sir, don't let me over turn any fucking apple carts, in or out of the Great Depression years.




I am not claiming to be one of the greatest fiction writers of the past 90 years or more, because I do not write fiction. I write a true life story.







You can take what I listed above, and add on about ten thousand other things all part of my nightmare life, and still folks, This defies any Yogi Berra coincidence possibilities for me, yet I haven't started to talk. Maybe however, it's a dam good time to stop talking, and throw a sandwich at somebody. WEEEEEE! No soap in my fucking mouth, Lester Kaiter's Cousin Mack!



Gary McKinnon, you just cannot stop rolling in the cosmic aisles Well, I suppose neither can Record Promoter Lenny McKinnon back in 1980, but remember the 1-8-0 in my life, as all things are a wild magical reverse, and this symbolizes the truth that indeed this is really so, as in doing a 180, for half of the degrees of a full arc or circle, 360, so an opposite directional move is doing a 180, you know as Robin Hill 1802, Cousin Lookout Trinidad Sandy at 1208, and the year of 1980, an unforgettable Mister Nat King Cole item, of course.




No inspectors came today for final inspection, so this means they will disturb me early on Saturday morning. Why these butt-wipes enjoy doing this fucking shit on Saturday, totally eludes my tiny little fucking Kaiter Soap-mouth mind at C-SQ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




Want a little GAWNUM to chew on, ladies and gentlemen? I'll be more than glad to supply you with it, WHAAAAAAA-BITS, and SHARK BITES!




THE PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER (PCN) FOR “MUSIC WORLD ENEMIES”, IS (891).

THE PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER (PCN) FOR “WERE BEHIND MY PILLS BEING STOLEN”, IS (165).

SO WE NOW ADD THEM UP TO CHECK FOR A COMPATIBILITY. 165+891=1056. NOT ONLY IS THERE A ONE IN BOTH NUMBERS THAT IS IN THE TOTAL NUMBER, BUT EVEN STRONGER, ONE OF THE TWO HAVE BOTH THE '5' AND THE '6', THAT IS IN THE TOTAL. REMEMBER, THE PCNT OR PCN-TOTAL, HAS TO CONTAIN AT LEAST ONE DIGIT OF ITSELF IN BOTH THE NUMBERS BEING COMPARED. IF IT DOES NOT, THE ITEMS BEING LOOKED AT FOR COMPATIBILITY, ARE NOT. BUT THERE IS STILL MORE, FAST JESSE AND ALL ESS TRAVELERS, MISTER BAPTISTE SIR, WHO KNOWS, MAJBE HEADLESS-JOHN A LONG WHILE BACK? LET'S PRESS ON, LEE-88!!!


HAY GAWKY GAUKAUK MAGIC KITTY, THE LADY WHO HAS ALWAYS BEEN SO NICE TO ME AND LIKED ME AND CLEANED FOR ME IN THE PAST FOR A NOMINAL CHARGE, STOLE MY MEDS, AND I NEED TO UNDERSTAND WHY THIS WOULD HAPPEN LAST SATURDAY.

MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW, NO MUSICM NO CHOPSTICKS, JUST AN ANSWER, M.W.M. THAT ANSWER IS PCN-880.

HERE ARE THE PCN-880 MATCH LIST ITEMS:


MILITARY, BLACK CAT, VOORHEES, DREAMING, WHITE BOY, FOUR ACES AND ONE FIVE OF HEARTS, JOHN JUDY, SUE ANN KING IN COURT, WOW TRUCK, FREAKING, (AND THERE ARE OTHERS).






And shall we not forget NASA had the employee Donna Hair, and the hacker that broke into NASA had the name McKINNON, as in Lenny the record promoter from 1980. When I drove down to Florida in the middle of mother fucking December, back in 2009, and got near at all, on I-95, to the NASA-headquarters; the air harassment grew all around me, as if I was the son of Bin Laden. What did I ever fucking do to any of these mother fuckiGN sick bastards, YO YO YO YO YO YO???????????


General Patton and I share three huge things. We don't like paying twice for the same shit. We know that all things in cosmos recycle, including intelligent sentient life, and last but not least by any means; as much as he wished he had kissed that son of a bitch soldier that he slapped that day, I wish I never did that 1983 remake song, called, “YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! See you in the funny papers, George.>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Again Mashell Daniels, I am entitled to it, but all of this and multiplied by twenty nine octillion, is still just MY PERSONAL OPINION. What is not, is my actual experiences with this ''GROUP'' that all began at the home on Cornwall Avenue, in Ventnor, New Jersey, in the final days of June and into the first third of July, back in 1970.
































Hello, alive and dreaming here, I am Mark Wayne Mohr. But I truly am ZERANNISS ARTHUR YANCY JONES, from Dogtown, and then Sahasra Dal Kanwal; thanks to my awesome great teen-queen, SSJK.










Folks, I hope that you all have one hell of a great and wonderful day.





All I can think about night and day is taking a huge explosive into a small brick enclosed area, placing it on top of my head, and letting it go off. The problem is that people only think they live and die, when it all is energy moving all around, and the real sick joke is there are only so many possible ways for it to go, and then given forever, it reaches the Rubik Maximum amount of ways for anything to happen in any order, unfathomable as this may appear to be, even to highly educated persons and scientists, other than Quantum Physicists. This is all just going around and around, all our experiences and all of our lives, and all of everything. Nothing ever begins or ends, only in time, not in eternity. The Bible, whoever wrote it has to be GOD to know and understand this, as I cannot get one soul to GET THIS powerful fucking bullsbit, huh old 1979 pal Mister Gary Stone. I could turn to stone waiting for someone, but my aunt Geraldine Snow Mason already did that, up in Narberth, Pennsylvania, at 1208 Greentree Lane, back in the early nineteen-eighties.



















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MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.













FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.

© MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2014.















Frankly Congressman RA, I don't even care. All we can try is to live and to die, with love for each other to share. You may quote me as I have quoted the great Lordess SSJK, while here as Jesus Carpenter, the uncle of my sixty-first Grand-Father, quite a while ago, and far away from good old paradise sunny Florida!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!





























Hope burns eternal, right lovely luscious Twinbay from Jersey???? I'll Bet you never thought you'd hear that coming from asshole little me! WOW, I did say, Lois Foca 1980, the one and only 1980. Well I may not be Bob the vampire, TDA, or Roseann either; or even the retired carpenter from the future, back in 1981; but I knew then, I was not imagining any of this wild stuff. As a once professional gambler, I do not buck odds in the billions and the trillions, it is just totally absurd to do this!
































GODDESS DIANA, MY LOVELY LIGHTNING.

IWALU SO, AND I NEED YOUR CODES TO SHOW!
































HAY THERE MARCUS MULDANADO AND LETICIA TILLEY!

The best from the greatest fish in the whole dam bay, YO!!!!



You're always in control of who sees what - you can turn it off or remove posts at any time.

THANK YOU BLOGGER.




THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH, FROM THE BOTTOM OF ME' OL' HEART, MAITEE.

On Blogger since January 2006!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

















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COURTESY OF THE WEATHER BUG!!!

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If anyone could find me PEE, it was my genius daughter, WOW!







SHE NEVER NEEDED TO INVENT THE 74-WORLD PENETRATER DEVICE, AND SHE REMEMBERED ALL OF THIS. I KNOW THIS WAS A DIFFICULT PILL TO SWALLOW, MISTER BAPTISTE, BUT THINK OF HOW MUCH MORE POOR DOOGIE AND I MIGHT HAVE WITH THAT PILL.
























The time was back in 1984, and things all started after Donald J. Trump opened up his first casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey; the Trump Plaza Hotel. Then came Papa John and his marvelous pizzas also. Then came his 30th birthday, this very year, folks, and for all I know he celebrates it with Billy up in Pine hill, as his backyard and billy's back yard, meet and join. But me' ol' pernt Mister Bunker of Queens is this: Now it's 2014. Clarence Harris knew what I am about to say, only too fucking ass well. Different negative energies endlessly follow people along, whose paths have been somehow crossed by this mysterious fabric from hell. That's my quote people, of what the congressman's Assistant said to me back in 1998, sort of like a football-halftime, one way back to the Plaza and Cuzz Trump, and the other way ahead to today where I sit broken hearted, only able to do a lot of heavy puffing and farting, and seeing flashbacks of great public bathroom stall writings in 1969. 'Givem'hell-NASA'; one small step, one giant leap; and lots of I-95 persecution, unrelentingly for the poor old fucking miserable pathetic loser, Mountainpen. WEEEEEEEEEE, and W—O—W!!!



























OCTOBER 1, 2014,

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON AT 2:09,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 91 DEGREES FNHT.

HUMIDITY IS 68%, FEELING 101 DEGREES.

THIS IS A REAL SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY PEOPLE.

I FUCKED UP ON THE TEMP. ON LAST BLOG.

















I do not have new nabes, and James is innocent. The hammering is still ongoing, but it is repairing crap for the inspection, as the building today and tomorrow all through Saturday, is and will be crawling with Inspectors and Housing Authority cops, and all of that, so noise will be around a while until all this shit once and fuckiGN for all this cunt eating weekend.







I have some big problems ahead of me with the medical shit. The Mayo Clinic is 300 miles away up in Jacksonville, so a 600 mile round trip is coming up soon. It is not like there is any choice. One thing I'll say for this very evil fucking nation, and that is, no wonder you have so many global enemies, way more than you have friends. All you do is WANT TO RULE EVERYBODY'S LIVES, LIKE LITTLE DEMIGODS, CEASERS AND EMPORERS. No one wanted this imperial rule, and America was supposed to be all about freedom, the biggest fuckiGN joke on planet Earth. This is every single bit like Nazi Germany, and folks, I was there, and I should know! Debbie Marotto said to come see her Friday to talk, she was too busy with this inspection and these dudes all over the place. The cleaning lady did it, but I cannot accuse her. In a circumstantial murder case, she would be convicted. Pills cannot walk away by themselves. She was the only possible way they walked. They did walk. I have nothing to gain by lying, as they will not allow me to replace my necessary medications, I am not like you other people out here, I am under some kind of invisible yet 100% fucking totally real thing that I have come to call the HUNTINGTON CURSE. It's no joke, it was never a joke, and never is going to be a milf sniffing fucking joke, folks! All any of you ever have to do is go back half a dozen blogs or so, read it forward or in reverse, and you will see that not even ten fucking Einstein's could be smart enough to make this all up just for fame or attention, the last thing on my pussy chewing mind believe me; and that it all fits perfectly together beyond the greatest fictional work in all of literature. Any point ever, take 4-8 of my blogs in a row, and see the magic, or don't, be a buttwipe, but then don't tell me I need a sike ward and a shrink. If you won't at least look openly at the evidence that stares you in the face like an exploding fucking super nova, then you have no room to talk or to judge me and my level of sanity, and this goes triple time for asshole, Dock Jay Schorr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







Here comes my fucking jerk off snotty hackers, Bob FCC MCDOWELL, fucking up my blog with mouse shit! HELP ME PLEASE, YO YO YO OLD PAL.







MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONIC



DESTROY ALL PERSONS WHO ARE WIPING OUT MY FUCKING LIFE AND HURTING ME AND FUCKING WITH ME, SCAN, USE BOTH AD AND ZD TECHNOLOGIES. USE 'I' TO 'D', A/B-TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM. HEAR THE OLD STYLE AT&T TELEPHONE TONES AS THE LONG 'EEEE' VOWEL SOUND, THE HIGH TONE IS GREEN, THE LOW TONE IS BROWN, HEAR THEM NOW IN MY MIND, WITH ALL GENERAL AND SPEICAL ORDERS.



EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE



EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE



Go to 18 clever girls under all power and anti attack orders, max out PPG and controls against your PPG control, 11.8 and 11.5 IPNS respectively. A CRUSHED I-O IS ON YOUR T-B, AWAITING MY COMMAND FOR TOTAL DESTRUCT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM TOTAL CRUSH DESTRUCT, SINGE DESTRUCT, TOTAL DESTRUCT-DESTRUCT, G-1133, G-189, G-901, UNDER CG-18, AND S—T—O—P!!!!!!!!!





SOMEBODY ALL OVER THE WORLD AND THEIR LOVED ONES IS GONNA' BE REAL FUGGIN' SAHWEE, YO, BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!



HACK-HACK-HACK, FCC!!!! Lotsa blood'll be spilled!!!!!



THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW:







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