The Weather Channel shows Fort Pierce at 93 degrees,
but the TWB APP says 90 at the Saint Lucie County Airport in Fort
Pierce, Florida. It feels 94 there and is still two degrees higher
than the forecast high for today of 88.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015
©
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)
Yes
sir Mister Deedee Anderton of the greatest law show ever in the
history of television, “L&O”, to quote you sir,
WHEN
IT STARTS, ''IT
STARTS''!
No
one on Earth can most likely relate better to that, than good old
little freaking me! AHA!
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER
92
And
Vicki, Sarah, and Frank's flowers, BRAH.
HA-HA-HA-HA-FUNNY-FUNNY-FUNNY.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
Happy
yet, Callio Audition & Repertoire lady of NYC, whoever you really
are, on or off of the GAP ASTRAL-PLANE????????
Let
me talk about this a few minutes on this blog, folks. The great
computer age of the nineties and beyond? No people. The mighty
wonderful TWB? No people, BUTTTTTTTT:
THE
GREAT AWESOME TWB,
YOU GOTTA' LUVEM!
No
peeps; this
is a quick honest discussion on how I died several times at my
Cifaloglio job,
killed
perhaps by covert agencies screwing up my heart rhythm.
I'll never most likely know this. Neither will you. But I can discuss
what I do know, lads and lassies, YO! So let me, and don't laugh!
On
one of about five incidents, and I worked there from middle March of
2005 until middle December 2009, my longest job stint, part time or
not; but on the night following Christmas, the twenty-sixth of
December, just like the event my mom had on her same date in the year
1997 and time, around just after five in the dam pre dawn and light
hours; I got a massive fatal hear attack, and died. No one has to
tell you, kind people out ere, when your heart totally fucking blows
up inside of your chest. Believe me, you know this. But what no one
tells anyone, and so I will be the first; is that a body is a dream.
You when not inside of it, can adjust your dream, right down to a
totally repaired body, IF YOU KNOW HOW. Another time it happens, is
IF
THE ALMIGHTTY GAMER-PROGRAMMER, Sarah
Krassle,
wants this to happen. She just flicks a dial and a switch, or some
reasonable facsimile thereof. In this case, she wanted this to
happen. But before she did make the necessary adjustments, she gave
me the most incredible interaction you could possibly imagine. I was
shown the fucking future, as I had no idea that Frank Callio was dead
just a year or so in the future from when this happened, and I also
had no way of knowing that he and Mayor and Chief of the ACBP Robert
Levy, had such major ties to a particular McDonald's, at the foot of
the bay in Atlantic City, in a section called, at least in 1970,
Chelsea Heights. I could go on and on, as you all know well without
ever needing to be told that, about the Motormouth-Mountainpen!!! But
it would be pointless, for what I am trying to say on this short
blog, folks. Things will all tie in as we go along. Give me a break,
all of you who think that I was some MC obsessed fan. I did nothing.
I was chosen by all of these people. And the real joke, or said maybe
better, the real shame of it all, is because of the way the world
works; all odds are I will die and never be believed. And believing
my story is not anywhere fuckiGN near as critical to me, as it is to
you and yours, folks. But laugh on. You and old buddy McNulty, laugh
on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AS
ALL GOOD SAVANTS KNOW WELL, “THE END”.
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