If
I was not dead and in hell, none of this fucking shit for thirty
years or more could be real all around me 24-7-365.2422. I am not
stupid enough to believe that no matter who may try to tell me I am
fucking full of pig shit!
I
could sit here all night trying to figure out how t tell my life
story in a compressed yet meaningful under 10,000 word essay. It
would be possible to watch pigs fly and have fire be as cold as ice;
before I can even think of how I could ever accomplish such a
daunting and impossible fucking task, folks!
Some
of you may have wondered why I seemingly stopped doing my
comment-number stuff. I will openly tell you now why, and yes, it has
stopped and won't be ever brought back. Whoever is really out here
does not want to be interactive, so they either are just getting
ideas from me while caring in the fucking least about my horrendous
endless pain and misery and suffering, or they are the ESS-MILITFORCE
and are my enemy to begin with, so why would they? The answer is they
wouldn't, and of course, they don't. Hey, I wanted to use that last
ditch effort to prove to myself if no one else, absolutely, fully,
totally, and completely, that this is in fact the case. So why keep
on blogging then, huh? Well, if the enemy did not care about me
blogging, they would not go to so much trouble to keep mother fuckiGN
shutting them down and shutting me mother fucking up!!!!!!!!!!!!
Think about that for a few lousy ass fucking seconds, lads and
lassies, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It
takes no mother fucking genius smart guy to see that my hell, bad as
it was, has worsened and worsened in mother fucking exact stages,
never to reset itself and go back to earlier periods of less hellish
nightmare fucking life and unfathomable persecution, if by nothing
else, by fucking twisted sicko cosmos!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 164
©
2006-2015
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
MARK
WAYNE MOHR
MAY
29, 2015,
EARLY
FRIDAY MORNING, AT 12:47,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 76 DEGREES FNHT.
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 60%, FEELING LIKE 78.
WINDS
ARE ENE AT, AT 7, AND GUSTING TO 21.
MY
GLOBAL BLOG AUDIENCE:
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MIKE MCNULTY!!!!!!
YES
MISTER FCC BOB MCDOWELL, HERE I GO AGAIN, THEY ARE FREEZING AND
TRYING TO CRASH ME, WHILE YOU SIT THERE REMINISCING ABOUT 1972 AND
TIMELESS SATELLITE CALENDARS AND TAPE RECORDING OUR CONVERSATION THAT
DAY. PLEASE HELP ME UP HERE IN THE FUTURE. THERE MAY OR MAY NOT BE
ROOM FOR ME UP HERE, OUTSIDE OF COSTNERS JFK CORNFIELDS AND ALL OTHER
FIELDS, BUT I WILL SAY THIS MUCH, SIR. I DO NOT NEED AT&T, THOSE
GORGEOUS BRAXTON SISTERS, PAULA UWICH, JAMES EARL JONES, OR MY
WONDERFUL KID; TO GIVE ME PERMISSION TO BE HERE. I AM HERE, AND A LOT
OF MOTHER FUCKING DANCING EMPLOYEES OF A MOORESTOWN, NEW JERSEY
MCDONALDS RESTAURANT BACK IN MIDDLE LATE 1988, KNOW THIS ALL TOO
WELL, OH GREAT COPYRIGHT OFFICE AND EXAMINERS. SO
WEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well
Dawn, you brought it on.
Well
Dawn, you brought it on.
Well
Dawn, you brought it on.
Well
Dawn, you brought it on.
Well
Dawn, you brought it on.
Well
Dawn, you brought it on.
I
am not too chicken to tell you, that my late pal, Mister David
Charles Roth, was as am I, kind folks out here; the victim of some
real hams and turkeys out there, as we once referred to some type of
peeps a while back into history. He most definitely was destined to
meet up with me at a department store job, where we were night time
security guards together, while the store was being stocked with
items. It was in November of 1985, and it was in Woodbury Heights,
New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; and was called the Caldor Number 113 Store. A
married wealthy couple owned these chain stores, sort of another
K-Mart or Walmart; just a little less successful. Actually I suppose
a lot less, as they lasted in business about a decade and then closed
up. As for the big K and the big W, no matter which letter I put
before the other one, and all great voice-mail messages not
withstanding, I think both these fantastic stores will be shitting in
their pants long before they go under. They seem to copy the mighty
fabulous JC-PENNEY, in so much as doing it RRRRRRRRRR-IGHT, or
DO-DO-DOING it that way, on or off of 1970' famous Cornwall Avenue,
of Ventnor, New Jersey. I would make fun of Tom Reale over my bugged
up telephone, Mister Munch, back in 1993 and 1994 while speaking to
Mister Roth numerous times, and then, kapong-kabing, and a ring ring
kaching Paula King, oh travelers of the mighty and GAP-ESS; there was
the television commercial, you know, another anti-pollution deal from
the late nineteen-sixties, BRO!When you step back to examine life's
bigger picture, anyone of you out there, I do not care if the most
powerful ten people on this planet read this, you too; do it, I
challenge you. You will always ge the moving averaged story in a
hindsight reflected truth. But you need to have the courage to see
that even with all of your power, folks; you are not the ones in
control of this gamogram-simulation. Don't believe my blog, talk to
the wonderful Professor M.K. At the NYU. Just remember that I was
speaking these things back when I was being beaten up my Atlantic
City Beach Patrol Mascots in 1975, while good old mom and good old
Cousin Ruth Huntington Gozzwald Gottwald, were up at 175 Peninsula
Drive, in Babylon, New York. There is not a single little cosmic dam
dot, that's out of place. But a million Mister Einstein's cannot see
the large maze in real time, and I can tell you why but it won't make
sense to just about all people out here who don't have a giant
background in applied astrophysics and quantum-dynamics. This planet
we evolved in and on matches in size, a perfect light speed and brain
consciousness ratio, in that anything over the circumference of this
world, in distance; can never ever be perceived by humans in totally
real time. Everything after that is enough of a fractional light
second in distance, to prevent that. Things like this do not just
coincidentally happen and I don't care who says otherwise. So
WEEEEEEEE! That's just reality son.
Big
or small, what is real is real, and by the way, that is NOTHING.
NOTHING is what is real, NOTHING IS REAL. Only void infinity and
collective existence, IS.
YOU
MISSED ME JANE SLEAZEWEEDSDISEASE!
GOOD
OLD ROTTEN MISS BITCHSHIT. THERE IS MORE FUCKING POWER TO THIS
ASSAULT ON ME BY COSMOS AND JANE FROM SPRINGTIME IN 1993 THAN EVER
CAN BE EXPRESSED ON ANTY BLOG PROJECT IN THE HISTORY OF INTERNET!
Even
Dennis Snyder couldn't tell reality from illusion, if he had gone
through anywhere near the total hell that I have. IPYT, lads and
lassies.
Oh
boy, great people; I
honestly do not mean to be such
a prick!!!
Try to understand, Dreamboat Annie and others, that
I have been seriously injured,
hurt, and damaged; by many many many powerful people all over this
world, for about six solid decades now!!!!!!!!!
YES
I DO LOVE THE NUMBER FIVE, BUT ARE FIVE ME'S WORTH IT, PAULA?
|
|||||
JUPITER
INLET CAM
WELCOME
TO JUPITER INLET, FLORIDA, USA
GODDESS
PAULA WILL GET ME FOR THIS,
and for what Dave and I did in 1986, at New Jersey's famous L.B.I.,
on one late summer night. This is right out of NICKS DEAD MIDNIGHT
POETS SOCIETY OF!!!! hay all grown up 'Teen bitch', leave my property
alone, you sludge brain fiend!!!! I will hear that Mountain Dew
bottle crashing into frikkin' pieces in Richard Karpf's basement at
1931 Route 70, in Cherry Hill, NJUSAESMWG, for all frikkin' butt
wiping eternity, ladies and gentlemen.
Tell
her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty.
Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her
McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell
her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty.
Tell
her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty.
Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her
McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell
her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty. Tell her McNulty.
You
can archive my blogs here below:
Folks
I have said this before and I will be saying it lots more, so
believe that;
Strange
shit is going on, as always, and (behind
the OZ CURTAIN)!!!
“Oh well”, Dad and Sammy Montgomery. SHEEEEEEEIT!!!!
And in addition to this, As
always, lovely
Diana,
your
moon was gorgeous
when I left the Publix
Store;
you awesome goddess. ''IWALU
so, and precious I need your codes to show'',
MY
WONDERFUL RED HOT LIGHTNING!
WHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now, your lovely big full moon is even bigger, brighter, and more
lovely than a few days back over at the Publix, YO!!!!
A
stones throw away from the Atlantic City boardwalk radio station,
owned by the mighty and dangerous Paula King, is the South side of
the Schiff Central Pier Beach. This is what peeps who mess with
GODDESS
PAULA KING
run into, namely, the end of life as they know it. Her powers stretch
far beyond human imagination. A double of her in hyperspace, very
advanced, and in the Exploratronic Supermind Society (ESS), jumps
into her as well as others whenever it so desires, such as Patty
Hollister, and I am a cooked fuckiGN goose since she raped me in the
sixties. I hate her guts beyond any possible way of ever telling
anyone, oh mighty Federal Bureau of Investigation, and my
ex-landlord, Agent Steve Caruso, of Austin,
TXUSAESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tell
me Agent Caruso sir, between the FAWCES of WFMU and WAYV, FM-RADIO of
NEW JERSEY-USAESMWG; what
fucking chance do I stand;
since
you refuse to help me against this powerful ESS?
They won't even allow me a G.O.D. Not a dam ass GOD, but a G.O.D., a
but (Game Over Demand)!!!!
I
think you and I are two totally clueless dead people; old swimming
pool chum of 1995. WEEEEEEEEEEE; not
TV!!!!!
And
that IS my problem, Doctor 1984. Leave it to an electrical fucking
number of the month for PAULA to put me under some real big fucking
cunt guns, kind folks!!!!!!!!!
{{{((*HALLS----------WALLS*))}}}
CHAPTER
165.
LONG
AGO AND FAR AWAY
THE
WATERS BLUE, THE SKIES NOT GRAY
THE
SUN WAS BRIGHT, HER HAIR WAS LIGHT
BUT
THAT WAS LONG AGO.
WELL
I WENT WALKING BY THE SEA
WHEN
SARAH'S BROOM CAME UP TO ME.
SHE
DIDN'T WANNA' 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 MOHR, 113 More Shinny big Moons
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This
song is on one or more than one, of these three copyrighted projects,
back in 1983,
lads and lassies. I was just telling AT&T that I knew back then
that I needed to use the © Office as a protection and a time
capsule, as
I already knew this entire future was here for me,
via STM, and this put the fear of Pandora's opened box,
cubed and Cuban, up the asshole of my fucking cunt huffing soul,
YO!!!
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
Scan
my mental voice print:
COMPUTER
OPEN COMMAND AT G-7.
WHOEVER
IS WIPING OUT MY LIFE AND DESTROYING EVERY PART AND FACET OF IT AND
HAS BEEN SINCE AUGUST OF 1986, SCAN. I AM MAXING OUT ALL YOUR
CONTROLS, 11.8 FOR YOUR PPG AND 11.5 FOR YOUR CONTROLS AGAINST THE
PPG. USE BOTH AD AND ZT TECHNOLOGIES. ALL GENERAL ORDERS THAT APPLY,
ALL SPECIAL ORDERS THAT APPLY. YOUR CRUSHED IO IS ON YOUR TB, SCANNED
NOW, AND YOUR EMPOWERMENT A-B TONES THAT USED TO BE FROM THE AT&T
LANDLINE PHONE SYSTEM ARE NOW THE LONG-VOWEL EEEEE SOUND, THE
HIGH TONE IN RED FONT,
THE
LOW TONE IN BLUE FONT.
ON AN 'I' TO 'D', A/B TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM,
DESTROY AND TOTALLY OBLITERATE WHOEVER IS DOING THIS TO ME BY
EMPOWERING A SCANED DUPLICATED CRUSHED IO ON YOUR TB NOW.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
GO
TO G-901, G-1133, G-189, G-13, G-14, UNDER CODED GENERAL (SPECIAL)
ORDER-18, AND S-T-O-P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What
fucking bastards, both those doing this to me, and those authorities
that permit it, and thus give them free license, to keep right on
doing fucking shit to me. No Sir McDowell, they're doing the
FREEZE-HACK!!!!!!!!!!!! What total jerk offs, with Paula King right
up on top of the list. I learned today that she has been the main one
all along since she raped me four times, 1967, 1968, 1969, and 1996.
She thinks she can just do anything she wants to me, and only a few
UFO peeps that know what is going on, understand what this woman has
put me through for half of a fucking century. The part of her that
lives in this universe normally, is not doing this. Instead, it is
doubles of her from parallel realities that are; and
the second that I make that claim, Professor Kaku of NYU; I lose all
credibility,
and
it isn't fucking fair sir, because you OF ALL DAM ASS PEOPLE, KNOW
THIS IS ALL FOR REAL, AND IS ALL TOTALLY THE 'FUCKIGN'
TRUTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The fucking © Office did not wish to get involved, even though they
all know a lot of shit is very real, and has been with me, for many
dam decades. Well; other than for one very nice examiner, back in
early 2006; after I sent down this project on 31 October, 2005,
called “SAME TITLE”. She and I had a great talk, only it was not
until middle 2008, when another examiner who refused to let me do a
normal continuation sheet, that all copyright claimants know what I
am referring to, and wanted to get rid of it at all costs, you
remember, that little sheet yellow sheet of paper; and she seemed to
have a major affinity to one of the tunes on this project as if she
or others in the government already knew about the year 2011, when I
would be living far away down in Florida and shit happened that need
not be discussed right now.
I
went to bed after posting this fucking shit to my blog, and then woke
up to that off the scale assault, on Wednesday morning at 7 or 8
o'clock. You may remember this and here it is reprinted and pasted
in. This in my opinion caused me to be pummeled by the giant KING
queen goddess PAULA-PATTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But
now I see right down to the bullshit that night at Atlantic
City's WAYV FM RADIO,
and everything else all worked together in the mix; I am not and have
not, been imagining even the mother fucking slightest bit of all of
this fucking rotten stinking ass dogshit!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, seems in
1983 my blocked memories came out in my music. She indeed can do
crazy things, and has in fact done lots of them to me, over decades
and decades and fucking decades.
Well
before the valve of space and time blows her fuse, or any more great
wonderful Copyright Examiners get heart attacks over any of my
continuation sheets; let me just add in here, that I do not blame
Paula over here in this universe, where her body here is merely being
used and dominated, by one of her powerful ESS-doppelgangers
(doubles). Julia White of THE PERMISSION BARRIER, is Paula King, but
she is the Paula King of a parallel universe where she is a very
advanced being, and an ESS member. My DNA is very important to her,
and she has given me two wonderful daughters, one here, and one in a
parallel universe, Auntie Huntington Gozzwald
Maid-Service!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This incredible being has numerous
identities here in this universe via her great ESS T3E abilities from
the universe where one of her parts, is behind all of this. On the
Astral Plane, her names are many, and Julia White is one of them, but
an Olympian Province translation of the Astral Plane changes this to
a very difficult to pronounce name, yet sounding somewhat similar to
Julia White.
If
I am right and even I have a million to one chance to be you know;
then all of you are in danger beyond anything your mind wants to ever
come to specific terms with, consciously. This is the girl that gave
me the LOIS FOCA interaction on the first week in June of 1980 after
a month of living at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments. This is where it
began to take off, and it only grew worse, year after year, and then
beyond surreal as decade followed decade. Watch out Regis Philbin,
you are playing with fire.
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THE
GREAT AWESOME TWB,
YOU GOTTA' LUVEM!
You
just go right on laughing at me. I know a magic
person from Long Beach Island,
who knows the biggest secret of all, Patty Hollister; and
told me. You know, that SHE'LL get me for
this. Well, she got
me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
IS MOTHER FUCKING ME, AFTER AUGUST 15, 1986; PERPETUALLY,
FOLKS.!!!!!!
!!!!
ALL
SAVANTS KNOW THIS BY NOW; THE END!
Run For The Roses
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