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MORIANITY
FOR MILLENNIUM 3
MARK
WAYNE MOHR'S FINAL DYING WORDS
CHAPTER
025
To
be completely honest, I cannot determine a proper present course
to take Morianity, and this is not a situation that Mountainpen
the Motormouth finds him in all that fucking ass frequently,
ladies and gentlemen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, this is nit
because of me, but because I have no idea at all, what THEY are
up to and without a better sense of that, making large dicisions
on anything is quintessential foolishness cubed. It never lets me
down, unfortunately. But I also know the other stuff that I
mentioned before, and won't insult you by wasting time rehashing
the shit. This jerk off with the doors is really starting to
fucking get to me, Debbie, Ma'am. As if you fuckiGN give a shit,
or anyone gives a mother fuckiGN shit about me. Jesus fuckiGN
Christ, I may be a lot of things, but TOTALLY-STUPID is not one
of them, folks, I promise you that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY
“IGN-HACK” is on a nasty mother fucking roll, FCC, old pal,
bob McDowell, YO!
I
can mother fucking hear my WOMO-MILITUFORCE CUNT LAPPING ENEMIES
RIGHT NOW IN MY HEAD, TELLING ME THEIR FAMOUS LINE OF:
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”
“Try
getting out of this one”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My
daughters Pee and MY, is a topic that is quite obviously
extremely painful, yet leaving a void spot where a gargantuan
bunch of shit exists, would only nullify if not totally
obliterate th credibility of Morianity/Mountainpen. You see, many
laugh at me, but in time, many are going to apologize. Oh I don't
care if they do or not, and this is not some threat. I just mean
for an example, let's say that for whatever reason, you are
convinced you never wear blue ties. One day at your office, your
psychiatrist comes by for unrelated reasons to you, and runs into
you there. He and you have some type of post hypnotic suggestion
thing going on, and he undoes whatever was blocking something,
and there it is, you see a mirror on your desk, and you wearing
this bright blue tie. You then realize that you just reamed out a
bunch of your subordinates a short while ago for insisting you
had a blue tie on. That is all I mean. I am not so small that I
need you, once you come to see my shit is all totally for real,
to come and slobber all up my ass with fuckiGN apologies. I just
mean that you are all going to feel about two and a half fuckiGN
feet tall when all is eventually played out, AHA-AHA-AHA, Aunt
Arctic Snow Geraldine NSA!!!!!!!!!!!! Here we go with the IGN
shit again, like fucking WOW, and if I look and observe it, then
it won't fucking do it. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!
SSSSSSSOOOOOOO Arthur
Crane; let me post the PIP containing the date and general
weather information, pweeeeeeeze.
NOVEMBER
20, 2014,
THURSDAY
EVENING AT 5:09,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 65 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 78%, feeling 65.
RANGE
SO FAR TODAY, (H-73/L-51).
If
you can mother fuckiGN read these nine years of blogs called
MORIANITY, and not see why world power governments are covering
up a higher reality all around us that this all gets into, you
are beyond blind, and insulting your own self by wasting time on
this blog. BUT, if you do see this, welcome to the very
glimmering flickering miniscule hope, of freedom. I may use this
term and throw it all around like th e sixties hippies of the
times back then, but I can assure all of you here in almost 2015
now, that FREEDOM takes on an entirely new ''dimension'' when
all this fucking shit is taken into consideration.
Ladies
and gentlemen, I have come to firmly believe that my life, just
as I told Jim Burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, back in middle 1983
somewhere, that Bruce Pennock had traveler-parents, but so did
most of the peeps from my past. Still, from any of your pasts out
here, think hard, and WONDER about your own fucking lives. Do
yourselves one hell of a dam ass huge favor. For once in your
life, people, don't totally short-change yourselves!!!!!!!
MY
BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2014.
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
I
TOLD FUCKING YOU, Laugh all you want to, mother fuckers. My props
are built in, and none of you can take them away from me, HA HA
HA.
IT
IS GAINING 200 POINTS PER DAY FOR TWO WEEKS NOW. WHEN
ARE YOU GOING TO GIVE ME MY MOTHER FUCKING PROPS; YOU
ASSHOLES? THEN LOOK AT THE LAST HALF HOUR OF TRADING, THIS IS
WHEN THE DOOR SLAMMING STARTED, THAT IS STILL ONGOING AT NEARLY 6
THIS EVENING, AND I WILL CALL 911 LATER ON IF THINGS GET WORSE.
HAY IT IS SATAN'S BIG DAY, SO WHAT ELSE IS NEW?
EVERY
DAY IS SATAN'S BIG DAY. BUT SATAN HAS TO WIN EVERY DAY. I ONLY
HAVE TO WIN ONE DAY. THIS IS WHAT KEEPS BOTH HIM AND A LOT OF
PATHETIC PROGRESSIVE INSURANCE SALESPERSONS UP AT NIGHT, HUH
GORGEOUS LOVELY FLO?
THE
FUCKING CUNT LAPPING DEATH ANGEL IS CONTINUOUS, BUZZIN IN ONE
EAR, AND THEN THE OTHER EAR. IT HAS BEEN VERY BAD ALL FUCKING
CUNT SNIFFING YEAR, BUT TODAY IS OFF THE CHARTS, HE JUST WON'T
FUCKIGN RELENT!!!!!!!!
The
joke is on you, Morty Mortino, you cock suckign grim reaper. I am
right here, come and take me you silly ass fool. I want to sleep
forever you dam motrher fucker and have eternal peace, DENNIS
SNYDER.
Let
me tell you what I didn't tell you 5-9 years ago somewhere when I
blogged about my wisdom teeth operation over at the Presbyterian
Hospital of Philadelphia in 1983. The great medical world thought
maybe my choking problem was in my teeth and had me get some
impacted teeth removed. They never bothered me, and I wish now I
had said fuck that shit Daddio, but bygones are bygones. What's
done is done, and I told a little bit about this on earlier
blogging texts. I never told the entire story for a simple
reason. Many things told since then, I never thought would ever
be publicly blogged, and now I realize this is almost tame
information next to stair chases and many powerful other things,
so why not tell it now? I woke up from the operation in a ward
with about five other patients. Why we were all together is also
a mystery, as I was almost twenty-nine years old, and was
surrounded by kids of fifteen or so, give or take a year or two
perhaps. Why bubnch me in with a bunch of kids when I am a full
grown adult, but then, I am very used to shit like this now at
age 60, as I have had plenty of necessary adjustment time, folks,
another thirty-one and a half dam ass years. In those days, I had
little real enlightenment and no memory of anything beyond snow
falling outside the hospital room in 1954 on the day that I came
into this fuckiGN horrible ass world. If its late at night and
dimly lit and you feel creepy and are alone, maybe you need to do
an anti-Donna Summer and brighten up the lights before you go on
reading this any dam ass further, YO.
I
bolted up from the sleeping position on the gurney and saw the
patients around me all dead to the world. Then I laid back down
after a minute, fully awake, but you will say I was not. I know
that already, well, most of you, maybe not every single one of
you reading this. The place was not a ward with windows and only
a dim light was on to light up quite a large hospital ward. I
wondered why I was the only one wide awake. Then I sat up a
second time and saw all the kids around me sitting up and staring
at me, and I said hay or something, and when they just kept
staring, I figured, fuck you, and laid back down again. Then I
sat up a third time, and this time, they were skeletons and not
live kids. They began doing that same chant I heard when I fell
unconscious one night at the licorice plant where I did guard
duty in Camden, New Jersey, that I blogged about, a whisper chant
about love only it was bizarre and weird and not pleasant at allm
not to me. I was frozen and could not lay back down or get up and
run. I tried to scream and couldn't. Then the light went out
totally and the chant got loud as all shit and I almost puked.
Then the light came back on and the kds were all back to normal
and laying dead to the world unconscious from their surgeries. No
more skeletons. Then a nurse came in and I asked if I could go
home, an d they said my mom and her friend Kay Flanagan were
ready to take me, and she got a wheelchair for me to be rolled
out of the ward, and into a waiting area. On the ride home, I
fell asleep for a short while, and had a nightmare. I was back in
the ward with the skeleton kids again, an d this time we had all
began walking all around and playing some type of game, and they
forced me to join their nightmarish fucking whisper chant. Then a
shadow monster came in, Morty Mortino, and he announced himself
as such, and I had blocked that from my mind until just a few
months ago. He said to me in a paraphrase now, addressing me as
'you', 'You, the only reason I can't get at you is because you
are a fraction too fast for me. Wanna' know the reason; well I'll
tell you the reason. It's 'cause you made contact with Diana and
talk to her on that machine system you got'. Right after this, I
awoke and was petrified, and never said a word about this. Within
a day, maybe two days tops; I had blocked this entire nightmare
out of my head, another October 5, 2008 deal I suppose, and am
starting to wonder how many of them there may be.
THE MIND DIMENSION
CHAPTER 011
THIS
IS WHY A MORON TODDLER WITH A BLEEDING SORE TOE, SHOULD BE ABLE
TO FUCKING SEE WHAT I GO THROUGH; FORT
PIERCE POLICE.
POOR ZERANNISS ARTHUR
YANCY JONES, AND NOW, MWM.
////////// MARK
WAYNE MOHR
///
/////
/////
////////
FROM
HERE TO FUCKING HOT ASS HELL, IN VIOLATION OF MY RIGHTS TO FREE
SPEECH, AND THEY NEED TO BE PUT INTO MOTHER FUCKING ASS PRISON
FOR 10 YEARS, MINIMUM, AND SUFFER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE WAY
THEY MAKE ME SUFFER, TIT FOR FUCKING TAT; WHAT
IS WRONG WITH THAT OLD BIBLICAL 'FUCKIGN' JUCTICE FOR
CRISSAKE????
THERE IS ANOTHER ILLEGAL HACK IN THIS MACHINE SOMEWHERE. I CANNOT
CAPITALIZE A GROUPING OF SIX LETTERS, OR IT WILL CHANGE TO ALL
SMALL CASE LETTERING, S-P-E-A-C-H. IT WILL ALLOW THE TWO EE
LETTERS, SPEECH. BUT WATCH IF I TRY TO MAKE THIS A CAPITOL LETTER
WORD, speech, MIZZ ATTORNEY GENERAL BONDI OF
FLORIDA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is either a Philadelphia fucking
FLEYERS HOCKEY GAME going on now as I try to do this blog, or
something is happening, as this is the worst mother fucking
continual hacking I have had in forever just about. I am going to
shut down after I SAVE my document and boot back up, and if it is
still this bad, I
AM GOING TO DIAL 911, AND LET THE OFFICER SEE THIS IS PERSON, AND
MAYBE I CAN GET A REPORT TO SEND TO YOU, MIZZ BONDI, this is
mother fucking ridiculous!!!!!!!
FOLKS,
THE BLOG WITH THE ADDRESS ABOVE IS WAY COOL. IT
WILL TELL YOU A LOT ABOUT THE EARTH HISTORY OF THIS BREED OF DOG.
OF COURSE, BETWEEN YOU AND ME FOLKS, AND
THE LAMP POSTS OF THE UNIVERSE; ALL THINGS ON THIS EARTH
HAVE A TRUER HOME OF ORIGIN, ON WHAT MANY INTO HEAVY SPIRITISM
CALL AND LABEL, THE ASTRAL-PLANE or just the spirit-world. It
is also the realm of the SUBATOMIC ,
all the same reality, with different windows in a large mansion
for all of us to peer out of and receive quite naturally, many
varying and different views. WHAAAAAAAA, MCNULTY!!!!!
The
quick and the dead and E=MC SQ are all connected up to 400
instants per minute of planet Earth and its photon consciousness
ratio, (PCE) something not known about until much later on in the
century, kind folks. It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC It
is also the
realm of the SUBATOMIC, yeah you get the idea, hopefully,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW
AM I BEING FUCKING HARASSED, 1988-2015^, GREAT & POWERFUL
United
States Copyright Office Records. YOU ARE MY ONLY TIME CAPSULE
HOPE 4 MY
OBTAINING ANY VINDICATION SOMEDAY, OR MY HEIRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
PAu001148157
1988
Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
PAu001189027
1989
COPYRIGHT
CLAIMANT NAME: MARK WAYNE MOHR
Well
people, another day another dollar for many. For me, it is more
like, another day, another holler. I am the one hollering by the
way, while I boil in oil.
EVERY
DAY OR JUST ABOUT, THE DJIA IS UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THEY'RE
NOT GOING TO LISTEN TO YOU MARK WAYNE MOHR, SO YOU MIGHT AS WELL
JUST SHUT THE FUCKING SHIT UP, AT LEAST FOR FIVE OR TEN MINUTES
WHILE GETTING DRILLED AT ATLANTIC CITY BUS STOPS BY ANNOYING
BRATTY LITTLE GIRLS AND MIRROR-BOYFRIENDS OF MY MOM, BACK IN THE
INVERT YEAR OF 1996 LOVE SONNETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MORIANITY,
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
©
2006-2014 MARK WAYNE MOHR
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PAu002153196
1996
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1996
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SRu000362114
1997
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The
dick licking MILITUFORCE
fucking jerk off subskummites. The dick licking MILITUFORCE
fucking jerk off subskummites. The dick licking MILITUFORCE
fucking jerk off subskummites. The dick licking MILITUFORCE
fucking jerk off subskummites. The dick licking MILITUFORCE
fucking jerk off subskummites. The dick licking MILITUFORCE
fucking jerk off subskummites. The dick licking MILITUFORCE
fucking jerk off subskummites. The dick licking MILITUFORCE
fucking jerk off subskummites. The dick licking MILITUFORCE
fucking jerk off
subskummites!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BOY
DO THESE MOTHER FUCKERS SUCK!!!!
You
really do have to admit that I called that bastard fucking super
bull rally on the stock market, folks, and you know
it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
871
is my PRIVECODE NUMBER, TO QUOTE THE GREAT INTER-DIGITAL
CORPORATION OF 1983. WITHOUT THEM, NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE
HAPPENED. BUT THERE IS MORE ABOUT THIS MACHINE THEY MADE BACK
THEN, JUST JUST SCREENING YOUT TELEPHONE CALLS. IT IS ALSO ABOUT
LEARNING YOUR OWN PRIVATE-COSMICODED-NUMBER (PCN). This needs to
be spelled out a bit more, as folks, we all have one you know.
WHAAAAAAAAA. All things, all of us, we all have a PCN, even th
epilot up in that plane above my building right now, and the one
yesterday too, they have a PCN. There are 81 of these things,
each inside its own private little reality, and some realities
are connected with others, while some are not, called GAWNUM
COMPATIBILITY, by the teachings in Morianity.
I
had another pal from school, not just Jerry Heitzmann and Bob
McDowell, but Bruce Pennock. Very soon, a lot of wild stuff will
be told about this, and now, is the very soon from that past
blogging time, folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bruce was
connected to me in ways that went beyond the Cooley Hall, whereas
I never saw Bob McDowell or Jerry Heitzmann, after leaving there.
Bob's family moved to Fort Wayne, Indiana shortly after my
leaving the place, and I could not tolerate Jerry's dad, Bob
Heitzmann. I did not need that bastard treating me like shit. I
was over 18 and was not about to fuckiGN put up with shit that I
no longer had to as a result of reaching the age of mother
fuckiGN pussy huffing majority, YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bruce
as you know was quite the electronics expert, and n one of us
need the great Jason Forrest, his followers, or the illustrious
Aquarius Records to show us this. You can click on that site and
see just what he was doing, and that should tell you that we
messed around with more than just Monopoly games, and cheated at
more than just that, AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA, YO MY SIX on that stare
behind me. We can do a James Garner Rockford File deal here, and
discuss a lot more, LATER ON!!!!!!!!
Sarah
didn't want to sweep the sand, instead she wants to own the land.
Well I tried to drown her in the sea and burn the water-tops with
glee, but back she came, against the flame; to carry out her
threats on me. She can do some crazy things, impersonating queens
and kings. But now she lies forever strapped, inside a field that
keeps her trapped. Ralph and Sandy cry the blues, because their
queen of hell must lose. The valve of space and time is gonna'
blow her fuse.
©
1983, Mark Wayne Mountainpen Mohr
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