Interesting
how the very pilot episode of “THE MENTALIST” television show,
has it in their script that I need to move to TJ, MEXICO, so that I
can get my anti-anxiety meds that I need to survive, and do it all
legally. I am now going to work on finding out how to go about this.
The internet has the world and all its information, and it is right
here at my mother fuckiGN fingertips. The very show that my blog and
that wild dream inspired into reality, and there it is on the first
episode, that TJ-MEX is where I will need to go. To me this proves
Hollywood is ESS, as I suspected all along, and the top peeps in the
club know and knew, back in 2008, all the shit I would be going
through up here in twenty-fifteen!
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015
©
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)
{{{((*HALLS----------WALLS*))}}}
CHAPTER
185
I
have been really sick for the past few days. There are good reasons I
did not run away last year when I saw all of this coming in a round
about way. I ran away from Jersey, and look at all the fucking hell
it got me into and all that was lost to me. I would rather die right
here than make things worse again. At least if I am murdered by this
1983 mystery illness, GOD will know the truth and punish the guilty
bastards in her own good time, so sayeth me and the Lordess.
Vengeance is Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle's. I rest securely in
believing that, no matter what else is fucking happening all around
me!
I
anxiously look forward to my death. I have no fear about it at all,
it is only life that I fear, right up to that last moment of torment
and hell. These enemies can only ruin my physical life and destroy my
physical body. I feat the one that can burn both body and soul in
hell, and the actual translation into twenty-first century reality
that this scripture would mean should it have been written yesterday.
JUNE
8, 2015,
MONDAY
NIGHT, AT 10:38,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 77 DEGREES FNHT.
|
|||||
JUPITER
INLET CAM
WELCOMES
YOU TO JUPITER INLET, FLORIDA, USA.
When
I make any kind of a move at all, it always is worse than if I had
done nothing, and this is why I try and do as close to nothing as
possible, any more. It seems like one rotten life, and believe me it
is. But it can always be worse, and to make it that way all I ever
need do is 'anything'. Things do not always show up and so my words
look stupid. Take Jupiter Inlet for example. There was an unpleasant
thing that happened there today and it made the news. But looking at
the Jupiter-Cam, all looks so peaceful and nice. You see it and
think, wow, look at all these happy rich people all over the place.
But just as the Earth appears flat and the sun seems to go around us,
we all know these are nothing but false illusions, and that what
appears all around us is many times, one hell of a parlor trick
illusion.
This
is why I don't waste blog time for the most part, of getting into
most of the day to day stupid news, both local and global. It's also
why I gave up trying to explain a lot of things any more to anyone.
If I could make it 1995 again, and be able to know this entire future
consciously, and then make a conscious willed effort to never try to
find Sarah, never do any of th e things that were related to that
search, and all of the shit that went along with this nightmare; I
cannot begin imagining just how different my life today in 2015, and
over the past 20 years, would have been, and now would be. It would
be beyond huge, and that much I do know. A force bigger than a
skyscraper falling down on you, started all of this back then. I
suddenly was obsessed with finding this Sarah character. Only it
seems that she never really was there, yet I know that she was. Was
she another Quakertown Park kid that only I could see and hear? If
that is so, how were the people in that car that day on 30 May of
1969, able to hear her tell them that their friends were in the shop.
To this day, Estelle Bassler insists there was no shop, just a hotel,
and insisted the side of the street this was all on was reverse from
what I know very well, it was. So many unnatural things fuckiGN
happened just since this search to find SARAH KRASSLE all began that
I would number the hairs on my head at age 25 before I would get to
all of these things.
But
even with all of these things; there is a lot more that can never be
told. Some fucking things would simply disrupt natural balances and
make life here for me beyond impossible, instead of almost beyond
impossible where things stand right now.
Only
a handful of quantum physicists who have no time to learn of me or my
life and read my blogs, would understand them. Those who read them
just think I am a total nut case. This is the typical way of the
world, even for most people of the non HUNTINGTON CURSED majority.
There are about five people who know my shit is all true and all for
real. But fear for their own safety and lives makes them cower in the
corners of shame, and not come forward in my fucking ass defense. In
or not in agreement when I say the world has been observing me like a
hawk since my birth, I say this now; where are you Detective Ray L&O
Curtis. Am I being too menacing t ask you that question, here, now,
then, or at McGuire's botbar-bar in Atlantic City, NJ-USA-ESMWG?
You
fucking missed me, witch-bitch-Jane, and screw you!
I
just left a parallel universe, where I printed up several varying
versions of this sentence, just as I am still doing, Dorothy
Twisters. Without a spinning house in a wild funnel of winds, we all
do just as the great Judy Garland did in that wonderful original
television production. With or without hyperspace wizards, this is
done by all of us, all the time, not only by sleeping and waking and
then repeating that endless womb to tomb cycle; but even while awake
and asleep, we continually slightly alter in the tiniest and
unmeasurable atomic frequency that makes us agree or not agree with
the rest of atomic cosmos around us. If we go off by a hair, we move
into a parallel reality that also matches us by being that same hair
off. Still, those who understand some really powerful secrets, know
that meditations are intentionally done that can intentionally place
us into other words in hyperspace, and even though different verbiage
may have been used in those great books in the late nineties, by the
mighty father of the New Age Movement or NAM, Mister Carlos
Castaneda; just read these books he wrote, and see how basically, we
are on the very same page, no pun meant, I assure you, but
interesting, huh Mister Berra. There is no such thing as blank-art.
These
fucking buttwipes above me are making lots of weird loud sounds, as
they do once in a while when they go on one of their nutty-rolls.
On
May 12, 1996, when I wrote the song, “SARAH”, some really weird
shit would go onto happen about 50 days later as a direct result. If
I were to sit down and write just this, and have the talent to do it
fictionally, and be James Patterson; this blog would be a viral blog
in less than 72 hours following the post up. I know the fuckiGN enemy
is upset with just that much said, even to only 30 to 40 readers, as
my hacking just started, and I took a Word-Disappearing-Hack. Great
fuckiGN time to sign off, as I am getting drowsy
anyway!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
BLOG ENDS FOR NOW.
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