HALL'S WALL, CHAPTER 1

Ladies and gentlemen, I will begin tying some super powerful fucking shit together, but I am not going to post. Merely keep files on my computer and back up discs well hidden in my apartment in a place I challenge the fucking cunt Milituforce to find! I heard about the new military-grade hack, and am taking no cunt chewing fucking chances, folks.

DECEMBER 27, 2013,

MONDAY EVENING AT 6:34,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 76 DEGREES FNHT.

HUMIDITY IS 67%, IT FEELS LIKE 79 DEGREES.

RANGE TODAY----------(H-81/L-70).

WIND IS E AT 7, WITH GUSTS TO 10.

Some dam things are so peaceful and beautiful, while other things like my life is so miserable and horrendous, cubed. When I figure out why this is, I will most definitely share this finding with all of you. For right now, here are some peaceful examples of stuff, great folks out here, courtesy of the GAP, THE WEATHER BUG, of course, what else???????????????? WHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!

Everyone thinks of stairways to heaven leading up, but this one seems to be leading down. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, Paula Uwich, and lovely BX sisters. I hope all of you sleep real well at night, and give my best, to the GAP MACY BUNCH, folks!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now what is cuter than this, unless, to quote the GAP whoever she really was, DMK, someone is ''totally soulless''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Many people tell me that I can take what happened to me and explain it in 1000 different ways, and that I have merely chosen the one that fits what I would like reality to be. WOW, what are you fucking nuts or somethin'? WANT? Like I want all this fucking shit? Are you totally mother fucking mad YO? No wonder I heard expressions all of my life, and one of these was used quite constantly by my late pal, Dave Roth, “There are more horses asses, than there are horses”.

TELL ME ABOUT IT, FOR THE SAKE OF MOTHER MARILOO CARPENTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JAY WITH PEANUT.

Crissake, I didn't think it was Jay Bland from Haddon Hills back in late 1964.

Good old hot South-Central Florida on either coast, east or west. Lovely Liza back in 1972 really did a 'MY' in the classroom, singing along to that hit song, 'Hot Beautiful Sunday'. Well, when it swings into middle March and later around here, it does not require it to be any particular day of the week, Gloomy Sunday, Twinbay Happy Sunday, or Monday-Saturday!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here's a pretty flower for you, Frank Callio and family; and whoever your mysterious A&R dream-person might be. Quit giving me fatal heart attacks. Nothing seems to work for me. I am in eternal fucking hell, you dam dumb ass mother fuckers; YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Don't think for a fucking puke swallowing minute, great folks, please; that because I have ended the Atlantic City Escape Book, or inability to ever do so, actually; that this is some kind of an end to it. That would be a real fatal error on anyone's part, especially anyone who is in on my lifelong mother fucking obliteration and destruction, BRO!!!!!!!!! This book led to this book, and this book will be killer dynamite fucking cubed and beyond CUBAN, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO, SO AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA, MIKE MCNULTY of 1971. The great vocalist of the sixties/seventies, Mizz Karen Carpenter would be able to do justice to my next little ending words for this first chapter, when I promise you all, that yes, WE'VE ONLY JUST BEGUN. Holy fucking shit water to exponent 99!

To quote another great EW person of the past, Mister Albert Jolson, YO, “You ain't heard nothing yet”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.

SUPPLEMENTAL BLOG ENTRY OF MARCH 16, 2015

AS LONG AS THESE MOTHER FUCKING JERK OFF COCK SUCKING BASTARD TRASH SCUM HAVE ME TO PICK ON, AND 'FUCKIGN' CUNT PERSECUTE; THE DOW WILL ENDLESSLY KEEP FLYING FOREVER AND EVER; UP AND UP AND UP AND UP AND UP; AND I TOLD YOU THIS LOVELY GIANT FUCKING GINA, AND I TOLD YOU ALL, EVERYONE ELSE, READING THESE FUCKING ASS WORDS!! THE PROPHET OF NOTHING IS GETTING FUCKING MASSACRED HERE, COPYRIGHT FUCKING OFFICE, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!

RED ALERT RED ALERT RED ALERT RED ALERT

End fucking transmission, Mister Blucranrodden!

I TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE

CHAPTER 28

I was just HACK-FROZEN again, Pam Bondi State Attorney General of Florida, and Robert McDowell, Federal Communications Commission, around 10:50 this sixteenth March morning, for the record. This is another super BOTBAR and MAJOR DEATH ATTACK day, people. I was awakened to more maintenance shit going on next door in ex-nabe Stanley's apartment. Power tools are being used in the hallway outside his door, to cut some beams or something. It is making a horrific sound. Yesterday with the fucking carolers, today with maintenance again, it looks like another mother fucking cunt assault on me of NOT ALLOWING ME TO SLEEP IN, and disturbing my early morning, so that the cunt chewing fucking stock market can go endlessly UP AND UP AND UP, and I'll be viewing the stock market chart after end of fucking business today to verify. Now the bastards after power sawing, are hammering. The nasty bastard really fucked up the apartment obviously. Also, since he has been gone, and good fuckiGN cunt riddance; all the Drunk-Bugs and most all other nasty critters are also. No bands of gold, no 1970, no hit songs played while staying at the child fucking cunt molesters home on Cornwall Avenue in Ventnor, New Jersey, praise Godd-ESS! Notice al of the recent fucking EWP or Entertainment World Punning in recent blogs where they fucking hack me and it seems to be not only fucking up my blog words, but an agenda to it as well, if you study all these machine and mind hacks, or RAW! I am not doing this, and swear that on both PP and my kids. Even I can be humorous during periods of hell.

About the Attorney General
- Pam Bondi, Attorney General of Florida
- About AG Pam Bondi
- Photo Gallery
- Official Photo
- Office Overview
- Employment
- Public Outreach

Stay Connected

Read Attorney General Bondi's Weekly Brief

Provide your email address below to receive the Attorney General's Weekly Briefing featuring the latest news and updates on top issues.

PLEASE HELP ME, MIZZ BONDI, MY WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE ENEMIES ARE GOING TO KILL ME, THIS IS NOT A JOKE OR A HOAX, MY SEVEN YEARS OF BLOGS CONTAIN INDISPUTABLE MIRACLES THAT PROVE MY WORDS STAND TRUE AND HONEST, MAHM. Is this hell ever going to end for me, Sheriff Ken Mascara, oh great and wonderful kind sir????

Every cunt fucking huffing time the stock market makes record high closes and then drops back just a little, and keeps doing this for weeks and months, and even years, with regularity, I go through a much higher stepped up mother fucking assault by way of this horrendous hellish nightmarish monstrous horrendous 'ICPE-APE; TECHNOLOLOGY used on and against me since the year of fucking cunt lapping 1986. My life was so totally different before this magical date ever rolled the fucking cock sucking hell around, great and powerful lads and lassies out here, there are honest to Godd-ESS no words to describe it or even hope to tell any of you about it in any serious way, I swear this is a fact, under nation and citizenship, and also under the Almighty GODDESS SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE of the PLANK REALM! She always said to humans, “Don't let the sun go down on your anger”. Well, this is true. My anger for thirty years now is indeed quite fucking perpetual. My anger against whoever is making my life beyond a living mother fucking hell all this time with no justice at all, ever for pathetic me; could only be measured by universes per second destroyed or UPSD, sort of a weird fucking scrambled cosmic postal service, so why shouldn't people go postal as they tarted to say back in the cunt chewing fuckiGN nineteen-nineties, YO? Lotsanlots of suns will go down, and come up, on my eternal fucking anger, for the total complete organized ruination of my entire adult life. Still, this began to all form and get started, long before my adulthood began, well into early adolescence, my friends! I so DON'T look forward to those annual fucking cunt church carolers. They always bring me a nasty fuckiGN cunt cosmic assault, it is three years now, so the patter in my mind, IS SET ABOUT THIS MATTER!

THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TWB PRESENTS:

basking in the sun all seven days of the week.

Folks, tell me this; what would this bunch of fucking total scum from the fourth circle of Dante's Hellish Inferno; do without me to pick on? Soon they will have to face up to this marvelous untrumpable question. The reason is very simple and childlike, folks. I WILL BE DEAD AND GONE, VERY VERY VERY MOTHER FUCKING SOON!

WHAT'S MY TOM CRUISE FIGHTER JET FUCKING 1988 EXCUSE; PROSECUTOR RON WIRTZ FROM EARLY IN THE FUCKING NINETEEN-NINETIES; RIGHT OLD BUDDY FROM CAMDEN COUNTY IN NEW FUCKED UP JERSEY, SIR????????? Many don't buy my shit and that is the Tom Cruise Fighter Jet Syndrome or the TCFJS as I call it for fucking cunt eating short, good folks, YO!!!!!!!!!!! Now I know this all is real, as ever since August 15, 1986, many times while with the late DAVID CHARLES ROTH, IN VEHICLES, HIS OR MINE, USUALLY MINE; a magical milituforce plane air ship vessel (UFO) by definition, I am clueless to who in this evil nation is doing this to me and why, hence the perfectly used and labeled term of Unidentified Flying Object, or (UFO) for short, but one would fly directly over us and when we went to start our cars, nothing, THEY WERE DEAD AS BLACK FUCKING TOAST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Then 10-20 minutes later, the same vessel would fly over us again, and the vehicle started up all by itself or in some cases, when we tried to start them again. The one fucking cock sucking night in particular that I will never forget if I live as the current-me for 8520 more years, is at an ice cream place at a New Jersey circle in the area of Red Lion, New Jersey, a place called, ''SUBS AND SWIRLS, that sold ice cream sundaes and cones, and many other snacks, at a large stand. This one particular night was so horrendous, that LIGHTNING began to follow us, protecting me as best she could, and then she followed us in reverse, first down to Long Beach Island and then back home, something storms never or very rarely did in that area. Let me tell you how this all fits into this past incident here today and yesterday. Being in the trouble I was in with the car and the battery, caused me to go and get the problem remedied, and in so doing, I was able to get a small little thing that I needed big time for my car that I had given up on ever getting, and was major powerful fucking ass important to me, and it just happened to be available miraculously, today, right there for easy-pickens, and I had given up all hope. But folks, I will not kid you. Time travel is happening, and was behind all of this hell for the past two days since yesterday afternoon. This is why their fucking cheated stock market is flying these two days, and this is nothing. Just watch it hit 17,000 by the end of next week, 20,000 by the end of February, 25,000 by the end of summer time, and 35,000 mother fucking basis points on their manipulated ugly evil criminal DJIA by the last trading day of this 2014 fucking cunt year, JUST WATCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I promise you this will all fucking happen, YO YO YO YO!!!! You do not have a clue about the details of many things happening. You are clueless as to the real main errand on my mind when I went out, but the evil empire will all know totally and fully about it an hour or so after I post up this blog, when I get on the telephone. That is all that needs to be said. If I told the damage that these enemies did to THEMSELVES, in their plot to hurt me and send their evil DOW JONES SOARING; at this exact moment, I promise you, the Dow Jones in the final half hour of trading, would crash 1000 points, but they do not fully know yet on the street, Mister Richard Cardplayingfucking Karpf. Tell that to the Indian Reader/Adviser, and the Braxton Sisters, and all other telephone annoyers; right AT&T, Miss-1983 Blake, and Walsh Atlantic of the Boxing Champion daughters. SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR!!!!!!!!!!! MY LIFE IS TOTAL FUCKING HELL.

On Blogger since January 2006

Profile views – 3035

© MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015

MY BLOGS:

Note: The image above may not reflect the current alert state for your county due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the alert and the map processing.

Advisory Colors Key
	Winter Storm Watch
	Flood Warning
	-Non-Precipitation Advisory
	Flood Statement

I MARINE WARNING/RIP TIDES

OH FUCKING SHIT.

HELP ME DIANA. THEY'RE KILLING ME GIRL. LIGHTNING, THESE BASTARD EARTHLINGS ARE FUCKING DESTROYING ME, PRECIOUS LOVELY WONDERFUL GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Doppler Lightning Satellite Sat/Rad Temp Winds

More Maps

	Regional Lightning Map	Metro Infrared Radar

Weather Map Controls
National Lightning Map

Local

National

55555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555

WOW, IT IS HEADING STRAIGHT FOR AN ALL TIME RECORD CLOSE!!!! BUT WHAT FUCKING ELSE IS NEW, PEOPLE???

When Congressman Andrew, as a dude of around 20 years give or take; was with his band, in a basement on Pyle Avenue, in Westmont, New Jersey, USA, down the street from the Haddon Township High School, at the home of Al Pileggi's parents; it was June of 1975, and he had done vocals on that silly 1975 song that I wrote, called ''Spirit Peace''. The lyrics went, ''Wherever I go you're calling my name, and that's all I need to know. The skies will be blue and the sun will shine, and the gentle breezes blow''. Jesus Bob; the only gentle breezes blowing in all of the great Sarah-Stacey Krassle's simulation videogame of a sort, here; are now saying, ''Boy oh boy are you one fucked duck, Mark Wayne Mohr''. I wish you would tell all of Washington, DC this message for me. I really would appreciate it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TURN THESE DIALS, LENNY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ON THE TUNE ''YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER'', THE INTRO, only the opening title words are real.

NOTHING IS REAL, AND KNOWING THAT IS REAL POWER.

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

W---O---W, MISTER MACY!

AHA-AHA-AHA, AND LIFE SUCKS A REAL HARD ONE!!!!!!!

MISTER FUCKING CUNT EATING HALL'S GREAT FAWCES, STRUCK ME VERY HARD, WHEN THE SKIES LOOKED AS IF, AT ANY MOMENT; THERE WOULD BE A BEAUTIFUL ELECTRICAL STORM. A SUPER NASTY LARGE BUT PRIVATE PLANE FLEW RIGHT OVER MY APARTMENT VERY STEALTHFULLY AND QUIETLY. IT WENT RIGHT OVER MY CAR AND DID SOMETHING WILD TO THE BATTERY. I WILL EXPLAIN AS BEST AS I FUCKING CAN FOLKS, JUST WHAT THIS IS ALL ABOUT, RIGHT HERE AND RIGHT NOW, LOVELY CORECEDIN LOO!!!! Nothing has changed for thirty years, not a bloody goddess dam fucking thing. No human normal situation goes on day in and day out for three mother fuckiGN solid decades, oh mighty Sheriff KM and lovely AG of Florida PB, it just doesn't happen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SO JUST WHAT IS GOING ON; AND BEFORE YOU YELL, 'MENTAL ILLNESS' ON MY PART, I CAN PRODUCE A TON OF WITNESSES THAT ARE AS OF YET NOT ON ANY CRACKPOT LISTS. But if they were to ever come forward, they know THE WALL will insist they indeed become part of the CRACKPOT LISTED SOCIETY. My letter will be in the mail to you, FCC, Bob McDowell from 1972. Be looking for it, please. It is my complaint about hacking, as well as Comcast using Macrovision, on a lot of channels that I pay to receive!!

MARCH 16, 2015,

MONDAY MORNING AT 11:12, JANE FUCKING WHORE.

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 80 DEGREES FNHT.

555555555555555555555555555555555555555555

HUMIDITY IS 58%, FEELING LIKE 82.

WINDS ARE E AT 10 WITH NO GUSTS.

TEMP RANGE SO FAR-----(H-80/L-70).

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!!!

I TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY

MORE THAN ONCE,

CHAPTER 27

Those buttwipe church carolers woke me this morning walking around my building singing and chanting or whatever they do. I know that they don't bring me anything bu bad magnetics as each time they come, bad shit happens to me. Today was not an exception. I fell back to sleep with my earplugs in my ears, and was in a horrible place in hyperspace where really horrible junk was happening. So bad, that I came out of it crying like a baby and a fool. I know dreams are just me inside doubles of myself in parallel universes, but the way it ended was so sad and horrendous, and unbloggable, just don't frikkin' ask, and I won't tell. How's that?

Can't I ever have a few days without mother fucking bullshit, E—V—E—R? I suppose the great Twinbay might say to me, when I learn to replace – – – – with ++++, that is when. Well lovely girl, if things were only that simple. Even Mister Osteen wasn't quite preaching the way he used to last week, so why not cut me a break here, gorgeous? My sea cruise offer is still on the table! Either way, just don't die on me.

When my fatal heart attack took me out of my car over at Cifaloglio, on 26 December of 2006, this was only eight days after my car that was destroyed in Atlantic City, again, by fucking dirt ball Robert McGuire; and things were extremely stressful for me, but I was retraced. I am not legally permitted to explain the details of DDLTT or Distance Delay Laser Trace Technology. It won't be used for more than 25 decades yet in this part of hyperspace, so it would kind of screw up things if I made that much hyperspace towel seepage. So to keep things quick and real regarding my late December-oh-six nightmares, things were bad, and I was under extreme ultra fucking assault by MILITUFORCE powers, AKA HALL'S DAM FAWCES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me start with anything, and the world jumps to my pounding drums, happens every time, and all of you who are following me, for any length of time; know how powerfully real this all is; unless you live in a cave, and do nothing but read the BOM, and that would be sort of ultimately silly IMHO.

Something huge is most likely right around the corner, ladies and gentlemen, there is so much TSD over the past six weeks that leads me to just about know this, (Towel Seepage Data). The music bizz is a large part of it, but much more as always, lays behind those great curtains, huh Mariena Oz-Wald from lovely mother Russia? Go ahead and tell me that I was not blogging a book by a certain title name, and now would be too nervous to add new chapters, for fear of Homeland Security paying me a visit. I have such a large and profound effect on this planet for a total nobody, do I not, great viewers?

So there I am on the weee-early orning non-TV hours of the day after 2006's Christmas, at my job site, Cifaloglio, and that loud machine kicked in, and made me jump a mile. My heart had been giving me trouble and was in a nasty irregular rhythm for a few days, and this caused me to get a fatal coronary thrombosis. I left my body and went out beyond my automobile, and looked back in it to see my body sitting behind the wheel, dead to the world, literally. I then began to notice things, even though it was night time, seemed to have a glowing brilliance to them and I had no glasses on my face yet saw with super visual clarity. I walked ten yards into the transfer station and what I called the trash-warehouse, and noticed that a white sports car had driven in and was parked there, and inside of it, the most beautiful goddess that I ever saw in my life. It was Sarah Krassle. She told me to go over to the other side of this place, as it is warm over there. I was laughing to myself, as how can it be warmer or colder in merely a different area of the same large room on a cold winter night, I;m thinking to myself, and I challenged her and we began discussing it. She said that she told some fishermen a long time ago, to throw their fishing nets on the opposite side of the boat and they were laughing, but obeyed, and caught an abundance of fish. She eventually convinced me to go over there, and I slowly did, maintaining my gaze of her and her car, and thinking she has no bizz in here on this property but I hope she never leaves. I was madly in love. Her beauty can be so far beyond humanly awesome, after-all, she has unlimited energy to work with being an almighty Goddess, the great Jehovah, and dividing the incredible energy by the speed of light squared produced her physicality or material self, you all know the formula but few know it in reverse, M=E divided by C-SQ. As soon as I obeyed her, the entire winter turned into a middle spring evening, of the following year, and it was early in May of 2007, and suddenly it was around just shy of eight in the evening, and the sun was low in the sky and setting, and the skies were bright, and it was warm, and I found myself in daylight savings time, nearly half a year in the future, only nobody could see or hear me. I realized that a bunch of people were standing out where my car should be only it wasn't there, and they were all talking about the Philadelphia hockey game the night before and how the Flyers Ice Hockey Team had lost and all the stuff that went wrong in the game. Suddenly I remember one of them walking over to me and telling me that he could see me and talk to me, that he was my guide as humans would call it, and that I had died and was only now my astral-essence or as occult practitioners might call it, astral-body. He said. After handing me two lovely flowers in a small vase, that I needed to take them to a lady, and that only Frank Callio knew who she was, and to go to one of his favorite spots to speak to him, which was the McDonald's place on the Black Horse Pike right near the Atlantic City Ball-field and the Badder Airfield. I had never been there at that time, and later went a lot to this place with Ann and Dawn who back then, I didn't even know yet. I did not know how Frank Callio could speak to me, he was alive and not a 'spirit-guide'. Well, it wasn't until I came to sunny paradise Florida, that I came to learn that just a few months back from this DEATH EXPERIENCE, not NDE, as I totally died and was re-traced; but yes, I learned only years after all of this, that Frank Callio had passed beyond this veil of tears earlier that year in 2006. Sounds like shit right out of 'Ghost Whisperer', but then; so does me talking to dead kids, in Quakertown Parks, back in the beginning of the fucking nineteen-sixties.

Now before the sun has a chance to set on this very true nightmare story, I will tell you that the flowers were supposed to be delivered to an audition and repertoire person, a lady, in NYC, (A&R), along with a copy of my song, written early in 2000 at Guthrie Short's mansion in Blue Anchor, New Jersey, USA, called, “Atlantic Queen” and I think it was part of the copyrighted music project called, 'Russ Walker's Star Travelers of 1896'.

Public Catalog

Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

[ 11 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Real good girl.	PAu000881543	1986
[ 12 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.	PAu002506106	2000
[ 13 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Saga of song writer Mark Mud.	PAu000501582	1983

Resort results by:

Save, Print and Email (Help Page)
Records	Select Format:
All on Page Selected On Page Selected all Pages	Enter your email address:

Search for:

Search by:

Item type:

Help Search History Titles Start Over

The real major part of this is that back then, computers and internet were still a bit new, and the Library of Congress I don't believe, had as of yet, made up the list such as the one I PIP into my blogs from time to time. Notice how the project with Atlantic Queen, is perfectly sandwiched in between, no not a Subaru Car Commercial and Andy Rooney of 60 minutes, great Flatliners Movie Cast and Directors, but in this case; between two MAJOR OTHER PROJECTS, that seem to have effected my entire life in ways, that go beyond phrases like mind bending and brain breaking, and bone chilling; and you get the general idea!!!!!!!!!!!

You missed me Mizz Dirtweeds Sleazedisease Bitchcrap, HA HA HA HA HA HA! But then, we all know you'll just get me over and over again, later on, you water witch you, Jane!

Here comes a FIRE ALARM, at nine minutes before two this afternoon. I guess if she couldn't get me one way, she got me in another way. But at least my clock icon on this computer monitor fucking screen has been blocked to keep her somewhat at mother fucking bay! Watch over me if you can, great PAM B. and KENNY M. TANKS!

Well Mister Peter Vitteritti, of Pleasantville, New Jersey; and friend of that beyond white-hot gorgeous Stacey K, not Krassle; of the Welfare Offices, on Main Street, there in town; all odds are that your name was misspelled by me, but I did spell it as it would be pronounced, and in case you remember me, friend of a Grammy Winner as you stated you are and wanted me to work on music with him, and is why most likely my hell began to get so horrendous all around these times; I thought you might be interested in the current weather conditions here in Fort Pierce, Florida, where I have resided now, since the middle of December in the year of 2009. Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy, that sounds super wonderful. The alarm was just deactivated by Engine Ladder #15. I love those guys, and that lovely girl who advertises locally and says that same thing, wow is that girl sexy as all fucking shit! I think it is called Linstrom but I probably spelled that wrong also, but again, it is spelled as it sounds, WEEEEEEEEEEE, not TV!

MARCH 15, 2015,

SUNDAY AFTERNOON AT 2:00,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 83 DEGREES FNHT.

HUMIDITY IS 65%, FEELING LIKE 87 DEGREES.

SMALL E WINDS ARE 6, GUSTING TO 7.

RIP TIDES RECENTLY BAD FROM EARLIER HIGH WINDS.

HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. THE SIXTIES WERE GREAT BUT NOW IT'S TOO LATE. SO DO NOT SIT THERE BROKEN HEARTED, COME AND SHIT, DON'T SAY YOU FARTED!!!!!!!!

And I thought that nightmare was horrendous that was responsible for that Theraflu Cold Med Commercial, where Pee broke Gemma's face into pieces,like the guy in the dam ad, only his face never explodes as it would if he was really struck by powerful awesome PEE. And still I am always left to wonder, just what would all of these entertainment world peeps do without me? Still my daughters need to bury me and not the other way around. That is the ultimate nightmare. Don't go here with me, I am still crying while typing this blog, it was so fucking real, and no one wants their children to die in their arms. Especially someone who knows the power of Hyperspace Towel Seepage. This is why I know those fucking dam church carolers don't mean me any good at all, Jennifer Washburn, Tiffany, and Peter Vitteritti, YO! GET IT?

**''ISIS-JUPITER HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.

I TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE

CHAPTER 26

Lads and lassies, a lot of things from my old blogs that need to be archived by clicking on them, when I post the prompt for doing just that; is being rehashed. Who reads old blogs, and for that matter, who cares about stuff posted in 2006 or 2007 or 2008, up here in the twenty-teen years? So I must re-tell stuff if I want new updated blog material to make any sense to my viewers at all, not that they do anyway, since in all odds, no one has experienced this incredible wild ride through fifth dimensional hyperspace, as have I. Folks need to personally relate in at least some way, or they just cannot grasp things such as what is printed by Mountainpen, and I totally 'GET THAT'!!! But now that I have told a few things that were quite key and major, and incredibly pivotal in my early life; it is time to go into adulthood and early adult life, to really tie together some powerful stuff. Now in order to best serve that goal; I will be taking you to the place where I had originally met my best adult friend, Mister David Charles Roth, at the Caldor Department Store, in early November of 1985. All things not only tie together, but when I get done with all of this, some people if they require any heart medication, please, I strongly urge you, have it dam ready and at your side before the next few blogs that I write, all play out for you. I am not responsible for coronary's, Joe Paget insanity attacks, or anything else, not after this legitimate dam warning, great people out there!

When Dave and I first met as security guards at this place in Woodbury Heights, New Jersey, USA, nearly twenty years ago now; and again, all of this was indeed blogged back during my first tri-blog, if we can sort of looking at my nine year blogging career as a pregnancy with three periods that are called trimesters, each lasting three months long, only with the blogs, each of these tri-blogs last three years, but yes, when we first met; he worked what is called in the bizz, 'in-house' meaning he worked directly for Caldor, the name of this department store that lasted about a decade or so and then went belly up. I on the other hand was contract-security, which in the security-bizz, simply put, meant that I worked for a security outfit who goes around getting clients, such as the Caldor Department Store and many other accounts. Usually, due to middleman costs, in-house security pays better and has better bennies as well. Now this basic information is out of the way, I'll get right to the heart of the situation without beating around any bushes. Two guards were on two twelve hour shifts, 8-8, both in the AM, and the PM; and David and I were the night guard force. Actually, I think the AM force had three or four bodies, while the night was only two; as no one was entering or exiting the premises, and they remained secured, and less chance of theft as a resulting factor. Simply put, they were bringing merchandise into the store, and stocking it up; and when we first started at the beginning of November in 1985, they were still constructing and finishing up carpentry work, and electrical work; in the offices of the place. Speaking of this, the office areas, is the exact thing I want to discuss here, and try to get all of you thinking and pondering, on what I'll now tell to you.

Dave was a cool dude and had a very similar life to mine in numerous ways. I won't bore any of you with details. But within two weeks, he knew all the stuff that had gone down in my life that was major, such as what the music industry had done to me, my job at RPL back 5 years ago from then, my dealings with the strange mysterious lightning goddess DIANA and my telephone situation in Atco, New Jersey, and most everything else from that time right down to good old jerk off ex-friend Jim Burr, who as you know, I still had contact with up until the end of the decade, when it was severed permanently. But what David was not made aware of, was the SARAH KRASSLE situation. This as some of you may know and remember, was done the following spring time in 1986; while David and I were just out socially as two guys having a good time on a Saturday and going to a diner in the Marlton, Medford Lakes area of Southeastern New Jersey, called the Medport Diner. Diana was talked about at Caldor, and Sarah was talked about in the diner at this Medford Lakes area, months after we originally had met and become best friends. Telling him about Sarah caused immediate counterstriking by some invisible force, and we can get into all of this later, and as stated, it is on many first tri-blog Morianity, accessible only through the five-blog archive click prompt. But the topic tonight is back into just two weeks into our friendship, one night at the Caldor Store, in the offices. I told him a lot about Diana and the phone stuff where this goddess could just get onto your phone line even when the phone company took me off line for a repair. This was the famous, “I don't need this, no how no nothing” incident. After I told him about an hours worth of these stories from my past of two and a half years or so; the phone rang. There was no phone service connected yet. This is a fact, just as in Atco, when there was no active line or dial tone during a major investigation by the Annoyance Caller Bureau of the AT&T, while working with the Account Executive, Miss Blake. Long story cut as short as is humanly possible; he would answer the phone and no one was there. But while he was in the Mens-Room an hour later, and I was alone in the offices; the phone rang again and I picked it up and said, “Caldor Store Security, how can I help you”. After a short pause, a young girl giggled and said a few quick words and giggled again, and then the line went totally dead. I never told Dave that this happened when he returned from the can. BUTTTT, the following night at the store, a few hours after we arrived there, a strange windowless van was outside the store with all kinds of antennas and blacked out windows. When David went to check it out after it moved around but was in our lot area for two hours, it sped away. It had no license tags, front or back. It returned several other nights, but as soon as David and I went out together with flashlights, it would just quickly drive away. But I want to discuss a philosophical conundrum with my blogging audience so that you all can arrive at your own ideas and conclusions, as this blog is not here to tell any of you how to think, merely to report a real life story from out beyond the gates of freaking hell for three dam decades!

If some covert agency was electronically cutting into the dead switchboard, why then would they come around after the fact, as if they are scared to death that some aliens were making contact or something; just as we all know happens, from watching any of those television shows on the History or Science channels on cable TV; and the original stuff that discussed all of this MIB TYPE BEHAVIOR on the WPIX-TV, Channel 11, NYNY documentary, called, “UFO-The Cover-Up”, back in the year 1988, with Agents Condor and Falcon?????????????????????????? If this van crap hadn't happened, then I would say the entire thing was done by human agents for reasons that only their twisted and deranged minds can dig. But since it did all go down like this, lads and lassies; then I say it is this GODDESS all along, that started all of this with me, back in 1980, at age ten; and who lived here as Sarah in Atlantic City, back in the sixties; and now is here as MC. This may indeed sound about as off the wall as it gets, but I will promise you this, folks. If Professor Kaku of the NYU were shown all of my thirty five year evidence file, he would not just check it off as delusion and insanity. He understands the powers behind Quantum Dynamics. Now this is a super condensed and abridged tid bit of information, this blog and the past few before this one, that will begin tying together, a major super secret truth, that GOD ALMIGHTY comes here to this world, over and over, most likely in almost every generation, and when you think hard on it, why not? If you had a super video game like this; why wouldn't you be Lawn-Mower Man or (woman), and ''JACK INTO THE GAME'' more than just once, as Jesus? What, are you all dense or something? Talk about crossing over.

AS ALL SAVANTS KNOW; 'THE END'.

MARCH 14, 2015,

SATURDAY AFTERNOON AT 2:40,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 84 DEGREES FNHT.

FEELS 87 WITH A 55% HUMIDITY.

WIND IS SE AT 18, GUSTING TO 25.

This is now a BRAND NEW BLOG, and yes lovely Melanie Safka, it can quite easily double as a brand new key to TRUTH, and this brand new book-blog is now 25 chapters in, and is called,

I TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE

CHAPTER 25

It's sunny and hot with a few white puff clouds scattered around the skies of Fort Pierce, Florida. In all honesty, ''I couldn't care less'', to quote the great OJAY SIMPSON, from the great 'Medical-Center' hit TV show of the early nineteen-seventies; what the weather is doing in good old GAP-Atlantic City. So WEEEEEEE and TV and all of that great stuff, YO!

Thank you Mister Norton, for the Performance Alert pop up screen. What am I supposed to do about it, YO?

This is the unofficial AMA Web-Page opening. It should be anyway, and the pond needs to be FILLED with these QUACKING DUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, I know that when I die from this early eighties situation that is as much metaphysical as it ever was and is physical; the entire world will know the real truths of the great KENNEDY-STAR FAMILY from 1970 WASHCLOTH H-E-L-L. Even this bloody-booby knows that much, Sir Billy Crouch!

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINTES NOW.

Paula, Sarah, Nina, Sandy, and the Shah of Iran. In older blogs from my first two out of nine plus years, I talked about how my mom and I stayed at the Trinidad Hotel on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, New Jersey, for summer vacations. We would go twice annually, once in late June and once in middle August. This was done a total of eight times; the season of 1965, 1966, 1967, and 1968. The 1967 season was when my cousin Sandy came with us, at the request of her mom, my Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason. She was very good friends with the Shah of Iran. All of this was connected with stuff that goes back for thousands of years. No one believes the story including members of my own family. I don't care, because I have the inner strength that comes from KNOWING the truth. The Shah put my Aunt up to going somewhere and then asking her sister in law or my mom, to take my Cuzz-Sandy along with us, and I cannot pull up in my mind due to a CALLIO-MCGUIRE BLOCK MIND-HACK, whether it was the June or the August stay, but it was 1967. I had originally thought that it was 1968, but my Cousin-Don insisted that Sandy said no buttwipe cousin Mark, it was 1967. She had her boyfriend, David with her, but he was staying with friends of Don. She was staying with my mom and me, bunking on one of the two beds in the room. Originally, things happened to me that are not bloggable, and I was also mind-hacked by this entire team, so that I would block out that experiment one was not a success, and that experiment two had to be conducted, even after my mom and I no longer went down to this hotel, which by the way, south of the border, the word 'TRINITY' is pronounced 'TRINIDAD'.

THE GAP APOLLO-LUCIFER ABBADON DIABOLIS, MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-MILITUFORCE-OTAMMITE KING, ETCETERA, (all the same difference), is out to totally wipe me out, with a major vengeance. Him and his dam powerful oblitron box, some might call an ultra advanced tablet, and his twin sister's non-'Kenny-Astral-cousin', and HER chain that SHE took away from me in a powerful dream interaction, back in December of 1969, is the real background to all of my nightmare story. As I said before folks, and now in reiteration; MY STORY TELLS ITSELF, so suppress it all you fucking want to world. As the old copyrighted tape has me on record saying back in early 1984, ''MY STORY COMES OUT TRUE, SO PLEASE BE ADVISED''!

Another parallel part of this story, is told on the internet, as well as on many BERMUDA TRIANGLE DOCUMENTARIES; where the Florida radio station talk show host, was commandeered, equipment-wise; by those calling themselves, and I QUOTE, the {{{(((“MILLIONTH-COUNCIL”)))}}}. Every brother chucking snot 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. It all can be backed up by anybody with the dam desire to GOOGLE around, and find it all out for themselves, my BRAHHH!!!!!!!

MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.

MY PRECIOUS SWEET DIANA, PLEASE DON'T GO AWAY. LYRICS FROM MY 1985 SONG CALLED, ''I'M CRIANA''.

But there is a bit more to this. Just a few days before he came over in the middle of the night and on a night that fortunately for the both of us, my mom just happened to be out as I said, on a date. Otherwise, we both would have been orbiting Oaklyn, New Jersey to this day, with some help from 'Biceps-Mom'. I had gone to sleep as stated, a few nights before this incident, and fell into the wildest interaction in hyperspace, that is imaginable. This experience has stayed with me for life and is just as strong in my mind right now after four an da half decades have gone by, as when this was freshly ongoing. Sarah appeared and we were on a beach together. I am not going to tell the numerous details. Not on this blog. It has been blogged years back, and needs not be fully repeated in major detail right now. But the towel-seepage effect of hyperspace was so major that rarely is anything remotely similar to this, recorded in the history of humankind. She told me that needed my chain that I had in the same large strong-box in my bedroom closet. She needed it she told me, for her great city. I had no idea what she was talking about, only that I was holding this chain in my hands in this wild 'dreaming' experience. She made that statement and then took it out of my hands. She also told me that when I come back to my waking world, to check my closet, as it will be gone, and this is not an ordinary dream. Well it wasn't and there is no arguing that for a second. I woke up and checked, and indeed, the chain was gone and my mind was completely blown. Then an hour and a half later, I boarded the bus to go to school and within no time at all, a huge asterisk chemtrail formed in the skies suddenly, right out of nowhere. It was incredibly beautiful. It slowly began to evaporate, and while it did, instead of doing what most jet vapor trails did back in those days, it grew bigger and thicker and expanded into what looked like the magnified star of David's Bethlehem, and all of Camden County, New Jersey must have seen it on that cold brisk December morning. I had written the most recent entry into this book that Russell convinced me needed to be burned, and described the dream and what happened after the dream with finding the chain had indeed gone missing, and followed by that incredible monster chemtrail all over the skies of an entire county. He had a lighter with him as he smoked as well as drank and did weed, the whole sixties bag and more, and he said, do you have a place we can safely burn it. I told him I would stack some five pound weight pieces that Sidney Crown had given to me for my birthday, and on top of two on each side, I placed the metal strong box, and he tore out all the pages and set a few on fire in sections so the fire wouldn't grow too big. As stated, up in smoke on that early morning, went my only proof of lots of the roots of all of my Atlantic City mysterious woes out of the gates from hell. I felt the need to re-tell this on this blog before I begin to really get into some powerful new junk, as the final months of my life play out. I believe I am only going to live into the spring, and then, I will be dead and gone. I want justice and I want my story kn own about after my covert murder is completely carried out and I am secretly executed. Because people, my death will appear of course, normal, after-all folks younger than me and men especially, die at 60 and under. Also, if you study statistics on special education people like myself, they are also in a statistically averaged reduced span of lifetime.

There were four years not like the others in my life, where strange counter forces seemed to be operating around me, making my life less hellish and almost appearing miraculously blessed, relatively speaking for me anyway. These years were 1969, 1980, 1994, 2011, with the 2011 being the least of these four, but to quote Jimmy Buffet, ''I believe I could have played a better game of cards with what was being dealt to me''; so I screwed up, maybe; as who can ever know, and this is why people, although they all love to do it; should not engage too often in playing mind games regarding hyperspace equation, you know, the shoulda woulda coulda crap! Still, these 48 total months were definitely different in some very strange ways, to all the other times of my total 723.3 months here on this Earth as Mark Wayne Mohr. The funny part is that even a hundred genius Einstein minds could not make this up; not what I am about to impart on the next few sentences. All four of these years connected to Sarah Krassle in huge ways, no exceptions. The final one had a scenario play out that is not bloggable. I also cannot ever tell you some things I do to maintain sanity, as without doing it, I would be a blithering blob being fed by tubes. Two people are involved in it and if they're reading it, they'll know what's being said. That's as far as I safely feel I should go with that. But yes, one day in middle 2011 somewhere, they both wanted to know if I wanted to change the rules. I did not. Unlike whatever they thought they knew about my wild situation which has eternal consequences and significance that they would be clueless about; All I am safe to say is that I live in many varying motions of time. I don't dare live in the very same real time that you all do, and this of course makes interacting in a normal life, totally impossible. But it is not some choice that I made because I found a pair of shoes I like or a tie or even a car, and then went onto purchase it. I do what I do for the simple reason, that I must do it, or I am going to rapidly be transformed into a babbling idiot. There are times it doesn't work. I cannot see into the future in my own waking world, and learn that all of my stuff is going to be taken away from me. I am not God, and never claimed to be. So when such things interfere with how I operate, then that is part of some higher divine providence data; as I call it. I don't feel comfortable taking this conversation any further. The more my enemies understand and grasp some of my survival tools, the more they will become able to defeat me and them with such maneuvers as was just mentioned. Do I believe this entire thing was planned with this family, so I would lose all of my stuff? Hey, by my way of thinking, and you can call me paranoid or delusional or both all you want to, people, but I don't see how this could be anything BUT THE CASE! The bible talks about forces of the heavens that know all of us millions of years before we are born, just read it all in the bible, and don't listen to me. So my words on this topic for right now are quite simple, ''please don't get me going''.

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

Live Camera image from Jupiter Inlet Lighthouse

Jupiter, Florida, welcomes you to Morianity;

COURTESY OF CHANNEL 12 TELEVISION.

They don't want me happy, do they Doctor Garrigan? Also, Paula Uwich warned me about that rotten TAWF, and they are pals with my daughter; I know this, without paying over nine grand for your con job psychic service, phony lady. Hang around, all Paula's. The Huntington's have a way of catching up with so many people, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. You're not gonna' send me a fifteen year old, Paula? I don't want you to; you crazy little bitch. Enjoy your home all fixed up and lovely, with MY MONEY. How do you sleep at night? Just how long is the Camden County New Jersey 911 system gonna' keep the great secrets of the murderers in my rotten ass family, huh Sarah Slut Callio? Hay, Ann King sleeps like a dam baby, with my 40 inch 5,000 dollar, 1995 television; the original largest picture tube made in those days! Sleep on, wonderful GAP AKS!

PIP-PIP-PIP-PIP---PIP-PIP-PIP-PIP

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 143

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2297

SBT-DATFILE: CH-143-050711.971.55

AKA (May 7, 2011) WHAAAAA!

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

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

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

WELL ALL SAVANTS, 4-NOW, ''THE END''!

1 comment:

mark wayne mohrMarch 16, 2015 at 6:46 PM
I am Mountainpen, or really, without all this silly hocus pocus James Bond screen stuff and password stuff and net junk, my name was given me in this lifetime as Mark Wayne Mohr, at 9:30 in the morning, on December 4, 1954, in the hospital at Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, USA. Long story short, this is an official dying utterance. I will be killed shortly, and it will appear natural. My enemies are not only real and not some delusion, but they will eventually become the enemies of all of you smug arrogant butt-wipes out here who think I am just a crackpot deranged lunatic. When you realize this is all true and is happening to you, of course, as my wonderful daughter that the world will never know as such, would put it, that is when ''IT WILL BE TOO LATE''. Please don't freaking ever say that this blogger and human being, did not try his dam butt off to warn all of you, while you all laughed at me so loud, my ears will be ringing in my tomb!

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Monday, March 16, 2015

HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 1

Pam Bondi, Attorney General of Florida

MY BLOGS:

55555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555

Public Catalog

MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.

1 comment:

Wikipedia