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!!!!!!!
THE
GREAT AWESOME TWB,
YOU GOTTA' LUVEM!
So
are you happy yet; Callio Audition & Repertoire lady of NYC,
whoever you really are, on or off of the GAP ASTRAL-PLANE???? Hey YO,
give my best to Mister Peter Vitteritti.
YOU
ARE READING AND VIEWING:
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 202
AND
CALLIO'S ASTRAL FLOWERS!!!!!!!!!
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015
©
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)
|
|||||
JUPITER
INLET CAM
WELCOME
TO JUPITER INLET, FLORIDA, USA
(Courtesy
of TWB and Channel 12 Television)
It
would totally astound and amaze me, if by now, some people somewhere,
are not seeing enough shit go down around them, as well as in my
decade long Morianity project and blog; to be able to make the leap
and see that I have told you all only the truth and a totally true
nightmare story. But either way, Miss mother fuckiGN
total-whore-Janewitchbitch, just nailed me on the page fucking eleven
shit; so I now will need to compensate.
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Until
my Magnesonic does something of biblical proportions to retaliate and
counterstrike the evil empire (EW) (MILI-2-FORCE) (WHATEVER) IS TRULY
BEHIND ALL THIS HELL AGAINST ME FOR THIRTY MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' YEARS
NOW; things won't relent, nor will they change or stop, from this
roll of fucking monster ass total shit, squared, cubed, and CUBAN,
YO!!!!
My
shit froze up just now and tried to crash, but did not crash. This
fucking computer has more hacks in it than all the fucking cunt taxi
drivers in New York City all combined and then multiplied by a
thousand. This poor doomed surfer is cursed to fucking wonder the
corridors of eternity in endless misery. So I'll march into the sea
and you can all wipe out or play music at me, or whatever,
Congressman!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP,
I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!
HERE
IS WHAT HAPPENED. I WAS ON TH EPHONE TO MIKEY AND RIGHT AROUND THE
EXACT TIME YOU SEE THE MARKET BEGIN TO SHOOT UP AROUND TWO IN TH
EAFTERNOON, THIS IS WHEN THE ESS INFLUENCED MY DIRT BAG JERK OFF SCUM
BAG UPSTAIRS NABES TO DO WHATEVER THEY DID, AS THEY MADE SOME SUPER
LOUD UNGODLY SOUND, AND THIS SHOT THE MARKET WAY UP. FOR TWO STRAIGHT
DAYS, THE MILITUFORCE PERSECUTION, HAS SHOT THEIR DIRT BAG STOCK
MARKET WAY UP!!!
NO
MATTER WHAT ELSE IS REAL OR UNREAL, WITHOUT ONE REALITY, NONE OF THIS
SHIT COULD BE GOING ON ALL OF THIS MOTHER FUCKING TIME, PEOPLE, YO!
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
Right
before that fucking asshole above me started fucking with me when I
was on the phone with Mikey, it began with an outdoor attack and loud
car stereo fucking dogshit. Then when that ended, they kicked in.
When shit happens like that, annoyances in combo punch style; I know
from 30 years experience now, of being under this mother fuckiGN post
August of 1986 death-hell, whatever it really and truly is; this is
not imagined, and this is the same enemy fucking with me using the
same tactical strategic battle plan of noise; just as it was used in
the early nineties in Waco, Texas, USA, against David Koresh and his
cult followers; and this pattern and tactic is done by this evil
fucking MILITUFORCE, and denying its reality shows ignorance and
illness, and not the other way around.
I
TOLD YOU GINA, I TOLD YOU GINA, I
TOLD YOU GINA, I TOLD YOU GINA;
AND THEY PERSECUTED THE FUCKING SHIT OUT OF
ME ALL DAY LONG, WITH SUPER LOUD ANNOYING NOISES. I
DEMAND MY PROPS FOLKS, AND KEEP WATCHING THESE
MARKETS FLY, FLY, FLY, EXACTLY AS I SAID THIS WOULD HAPPEN!!!!!!!!!
UP-UP-UP-UP-UP-UP-UP-UP-UP-UP,
SHE'LL GO. JUST
PERSECUTE
MARK WAYNE MOHR, ON AND ON AND ON!
THIS
EVIL FUCKING
FAMILY WANTS
ME TO DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH; AND THEY
WILL MURDER ME
BEFORE THIS IS ALL SAID AND DONE, PEOPLE!!!!!!
THIS
EVIL FUCKING
FAMILY WANTS
ME TO DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH; AND THEY
WILL MURDER ME
BEFORE THIS IS ALL SAID AND DONE, PEOPLE!!!!!!
THIS
EVIL FUCKING
FAMILY WANTS
ME TO DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH; AND THEY
WILL MURDER ME
BEFORE THIS IS ALL SAID AND DONE, PEOPLE!!!!!!
THIS
EVIL FUCKING
FAMILY WANTS
ME TO DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH; AND THEY
WILL MURDER ME
BEFORE THIS IS ALL SAID AND DONE, PEOPLE!!!!!!
THIS
EVIL FUCKING
FAMILY WANTS
ME TO DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH; AND THEY
WILL MURDER ME
BEFORE THIS IS ALL SAID AND DONE, PEOPLE!!!!!!
MARCH
18, 2014,
MONDAY
EVENING AT 5:55
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 78 DEGREES FNHT.
This
was the blog that made the decision to murder me and not look back
until the fucking job is done. Within a few months, my meds were cut
off, and the plan to murder me was in full fucking
place!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
All
you have to do is read it all, Sheriff Ken Mascara, kind sir. If you
think I am smart enough to make all of this 10-year blog up out of
whole cloth or could have planned it for some scheme of any type,
then you are giving me way way way too much credit, because Sheriff
sir, I am just not that smart. I doubt even Einstein was that smart.
And
now, we tell one huge thing. I am taking something over to your
office, Sheriff K.M., that will
prove how the Fascitar secret of the ages, and my blogging it, back
in 2006 and 2007, led to all of this entire mess,
yet all the while; it was going on in the sixties; proving a precise
way that the Christianity movement, also was set up thousands of
years ago. When I take this over to your office Sheriff, please have
heart meds there for you and your men, in case they may be needed. I
am going to blow your mother frikkin' minds with what I will bring
and show you all!!!
THEY
MAY MURDER ME IN THE NEXT 48 HOURS.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
But
what really is SPACE-TIME-MIND
(STM), many are trying to understand; while scoffing at me. They
scoffed at Al Einstein too, with his SPACE-TIME. And they still scoff
at the hard core Quantum Physicists, with their quote; “until
the universe is observed, it is not real”.
Both of these things are 100% correct, but only MORIANITY ties the
two things perfectly together, sorry if that sounds all braggadocio
cubed, as it is just the dam truth. Also, FCC BOB MCDOWELL, sir and
old pal; I
AM GETTING MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING COMPUTER BLACK HAT
HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM GETTING MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING COMPUTER
BLACK HAT HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM GETTING MAJOR MOTHER
FUCKING COMPUTER BLACK HAT HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM GETTING
MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING COMPUTER BLACK HAT HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
AM GETTING MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING COMPUTER BLACK HAT
HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM GETTING MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING COMPUTER
BLACK HAT HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM GETTING MAJOR MOTHER
FUCKING COMPUTER BLACK HAT HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM GETTING
MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING COMPUTER BLACK HAT HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
AM GETTING MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING COMPUTER BLACK HAT
HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM GETTING MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING COMPUTER
BLACK HAT HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM GETTING MAJOR MOTHER
FUCKING COMPUTER BLACK HAT HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM GETTING
MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING COMPUTER BLACK HAT HACKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
TOOK AN ALL DAY MOTHER FUCKING DEATH SIEGE, AND TWO BACK TO BACK DAYS
OF IT. MY DIRT BAG UPSTAIRS FUCKING NABES KEPT MAKING SOME UNGODLY
MOTHER FUCKING LOUD HORRENDOUS SOUND, WHILE I TRIED TO SPEAK TO MY
PAL MIKEY ON THE PHONE, THIS AFTERNOON, FROM DOWN IN FORT
LAUDERDALE!!!!!!!!!!! ALL DAY, I TOOK LOUD NOISE ATTACKS. THE FIRE
ALARMS WERE GOING OFF ALL FUCKING DAY, AND IT WAS JUST ONE FUCKING
THING AFTER ANOTHER, WITH NOISE, HERE IN THIS GARBAGE MOTHER FUCKING
ASS PUBLIC HOUSING BUILDING, YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
FCC;
THERE IS A HUGE MOTHER FUCKING HACK IN THIS COMPUTER RIGHT NOW; YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO, BOB MCDOWELL; MY OLD PAL FROM THE COOLEY FUCKING
WORMHOLE HALL, BACK IN 1972!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Please
don't sweat it Merry Hollister. Think how I got treated for daring to
say that these things were real, to the mighty Donna Patterson in the
early nineties. Then about half a decade later, the FAWCES singled us
out to get into an automobile accident while on my way over the great
Billy Harner's Barber Shop, on Haddon Avenue of Westmont, New Jersey,
less than a mile from my old high school in the sixties; Haddon
Township High School (HTHS). She let me have it, yet I know big
Patty's secret, and she gave herself away by lifting that 500 pound
couch like it was a piece of mother fuckiGN cotton candy. Tell all
Lenny's hey, for me, when STM or 'whatever' does its thing!!
BUTTTTTTTT;
the light at the end of the dam ass tunnel, is a lot more than three
intersecting jet vapor trails, that are all criss- crossing, back in
December of 1969, or even just a lot of red XXXXXXXXX's
YO!!!!!!!!!
JUNE
JACOBSON 17, 2015,
WEDNESDAY
NIGHT AT 9:27,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 82 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
SO FAR-------(H-90/L-71).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 79%, FEELING LIKE 89.
WIND
IS ESE AT 10, WITH A GUSTING TO 18.
Sarah
herself came to me in her wild sports car, while I was in an out of
body experience the day after 2006 Christmas at just past five in the
morning, at that Cifaloglio place, but shit doesn't stop there. Where
did I have interactions of hyperspace, with Darius from the Harvest?
You got it folks. Good old Cifaloglio. We were standing where they
wanted the guard to park and sit in his car. He suddenly grabbed me
and lifted me up, as Darius is almost seven feet tall and built
muscularly. He then went onto say to me, “You never liked me”. I
was flabbergasted, and didn't know what to say back, in that 'wild
dream' from 2011.Goddess save all the lighthouse locks!
WeatherBug Severe Weather Alerts
PHOTOS
ARE COURTESY OF TWB.
A
while back, I was minding my own business and an evil man walked into
a guard house, by the name of Jimmy Stone, and he fired me. I had
done nothing to this bastard, and he just fired me. It was straight
out of Mickey Walker at Mars of 1977, only this was on the first day
of a whole other month, not July of 1977, but September of 2004.
This
was not some random event. All things all connect up. Most people do
not have a clue because they never stop and look back and see a
bigger picture of shit in hindsight. It is there in all of our faces.
Any of us can see this truth as plain as the nose on our faces. Yes,
27 years and two months after the nightmare of Mickey firing me at
Mars, came Jimmy firing me 'for real' here in this universe while
'awake'. 326 months from that horrible 'nightmare-dream' in 1977, or
really maybe about closer to 330 months, as the dream was sort of
like a premonition about the coming July first, a few months yet to
come. All of this fits into huge shit that time doesn't allow me
getting big time into right now.
Firing
me is part of all of this, and this story involves a double murder
and many other things, but again, I cannot begin to think about
getting into it all right now. So I will talk in a quick 'book
report' type of way and just relay a few facts for now that can all
be tied together much better, later on. Jimmy had to fire me from
this job. Jennifer Washburn had to get me into another job about 28
weeks later. This would be the Cifaloglio place. This all had to
happen. Not in all universes, but in the one where I type out this
blog right now. But there was a character along with some people in
his circle, who were all from the former job up in Florence Township,
that I can prove a connection to with some folks at this new job. No
one who doesn't live in New Jersey can relate, but folks, this is a
densely populated state by anyone's terms and definitions. The odds,
of so many people in my life, all seemingly connected, no matter how
many miles of separation exist in-between these various spots; are
astronomical to say the very dam least. One day in 2007, and around
the time that I sent the music project to the © Office, on Halloween
day of that year, called, “Same Title”; and actually was not
called that, but the © Office named it that for complex reasons,
that again, time would never begin permitting me to get into the dam
ass specifics about with you; but around this date somewhere, was
what I called the Cifaloglio Magazine Incident or the CMI for short.
Someone at this work site, knew that I, the weekend guard, would pass
through an area on clock rounds, and see it opened up to a particular
page, unless I was blind as a bat. I sat down and looked at it after
hitting my key, and it contained some powerful stuff, that at the
time, made some but little sense. Most of it was about Donna Summer
the late disco artist, and some of it was about MC, not MCI. But all
of this, and a big truck load of Baskin Robins Ice Cream; would not
come close to revealing all of the powerful cosmic nuances involved
in all of this. Approximately two years later, the same person that
arranged for my finding this magazine that weekend night while on my
guard duty; learned through the work site grapevine, how I had come
into the garage and got talking to a dude named Bill along with a
couple of his coworkers, and was telling how I was getting fed up
with a truck driver who was always screwing with me, and I showed
them what I might have to do to this person should the harassment not
be stopped, and I leaped into the air like in a Chuck Norris movie,
and gave a double kick to the side, like that dumb new dog flea
commercial where the dog kicks the flea from mid air. But this led to
the making of a whole other TV commercial, one for the great American
Telephone and Telegraph Corporation, or AT&T. Shortly after I
started at this place, a brand new run was started, and Atlantic City
had been added to the route of various trucks that went places to
perform services. The first man hired to do this run, the deer
hunter, Anthony, was friends with many of my Atlantic City enemies in
the local political system, and also friends of the owner of the
place, and was related by marriage I am pretty sure. This family has
a lot of roots up near my wonderful Aunt Ruth and Uncle Heinz lived,
the great Woodie Guthrie Island of New York. After I copyrighted my
music project that I did there one night, called, “Karaoke
Lunch-break at the Sorian 18 Guardhouse”, that the Copyright Office
removed the number-18 from the title for powerful reasons; again
folks no time to get into all of this right now; but this is when the
great Delmo Cifaloglio removed the guardhouse, and made the guards
work outside in our vehicles again, the way it was at the start of
the job, only now, the place being much busier, this was illegally
precarious and deadly ass fuckiGN dangerous. Huge trucks rolled
around me like I was dog-shit, and it was a very scary place to
fucking work. Right before it was removed, I was balled out by the
boss while his daughter who was in the car and loved to always stare
at me, was doing that again, and it was very embarrassing to say the
fucking least. Also, I didn't deserve the man's grief. My reports
were detailed unlike Roy Carl Weiler Senior, the other rotation
security guard, the two of us would relieve each other all weekend
long. All that man ever wrote was the hour and ''all secure''. Let me
tell you folks, nothing is ALL SECURE. Any guard worth his or her
salt knows that. My reports were detailed and accurate and I was all
over that place looking for shit that was out of order. In guard
duty, it is always better to catch something early so as to avoid
much bigger grief that would result down the line should one not
choose to act in such a manner. Long Story Short, or LSS, I have any
reason to know even though I do not have court acceptable evidence,
that Deer-Hunter-Anthony was the key enemy there, as ever since he
came and that Atlantic fuckiGN City run began, the job that was quite
nice before that, turned into nothing but shit, grief, and hell. He
was behind many spurious and bad shit that I had to deal with and
contend with for nearly a half decade that I had to interact with
him. But the real story about Cifaloglio is that if you crashed into
a tiny quick cat nap, or if I did and I did and will admit to it,
boom, the uninduced astral projections were major, and on top of
that, even just regular quick hyperspace experiences were major as
all shit as well. I saw a lot of shit that all came to pass, here in
waking life, just from a quick crash here and there, and 'dreaming'
something that came to pass in future times ahead of me, here in
'waking life'.
Now
some of you know that when I talk about the old job before
Cifaloglio, the dude who was very mysterious and claimed to be an
Olympian God, named Psyche Myrathus from the Great Ring River to the
Province one away from Province Olympia; and two friends of his, all
knew some friends of this driver-Anthony from the new job. But to
keep this all going, I had the WAYV crew, and of course their queen,
the great PAULA Somnambulist KING. I totally believe that Paula is
one and the same person that worked with my mom, because they share
some wild things in personal life besides being dead ringers to each
other physically. The odds that I am wrong on this huge covered up
secret are millions to one, minimum. Fascination with hidden things
is just a part of their similarities, believe me folks. I am not
buying into about fifteen other things here, from her choice of male
suitors and reasons for those wild decisions, to Aunt Shark Ruth
Nightmares of Gloucester, to punishments, to ages all being exact,
and as I said peeps, I could go on making this list, checking it ten
times, and wouldn't even need her wild spurious friend, Santa, to be
involved in this mix.
Sarah
herself came to me in her wild sports car, while I was in an out of
body experience the day after 2006 Christmas at just past five in the
morning, at that Cifaloglio place, but shit doesn't stop there. Where
did I have interactions of hyperspace, with Darius from the Harvest?
You got it folks. Good old Cifaloglio. We were standing where they
wanted the guard to park and sit in his car. He suddenly grabbed me
and lifted me up, as Darius is almost seven feet tall and built
muscularly. He then went onto say to me, “You never liked me”. I
was flabbergasted, and didn't know what to say back, in that 'wild
dream' from 2011. It happened either shortly before or shortly after
he came over here to do that music stuff to my computer, I think it
was before but don't want to swear to it. Normally my memories are
clear as a dam bell. Here I go again, is someone doing a 1983-1984
hyperspace equation deal with me, again, YO?
Go
ahead and tell me that my life isn't so wild, that it literally makes
the dam ass African jungles appear tame in comparison! Just go the
hell ahead, kind ladies and gents!
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
AM GETTING REAL SICK AND TIRED OF HAVING MY MOTHER FUCKING ENTIRE
LIFE VICIOUSLY FUCKING CUNT VIOLATED!!!!
I
AM GETTING REAL SICK AND TIRED OF HAVING MY MOTHER FUCKING ENTIRE
LIFE VICIOUSLY FUCKING CUNT VIOLATED!!!!
I
AM GETTING REAL SICK AND TIRED OF HAVING MY MOTHER FUCKING ENTIRE
LIFE VICIOUSLY FUCKING CUNT VIOLATED!!!!
I
AM GETTING REAL SICK AND TIRED OF HAVING MY MOTHER FUCKING ENTIRE
LIFE VICIOUSLY FUCKING CUNT VIOLATED!!!!
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
Audience
h
©
2006-2015
Bob
McDowell
would say it so wonderfully and accurately, “Vely
vely intelesting”.
I cannot tell you in detail, but you know what; I know that a few out
here, just 'know'!!!!!!!!!!!!! Then again, one dictating writer to
another, phase-3 or phase-4; Doctor Steckle on the super great
'Flatliners' movie; ''Maybe I'm just fucked in the head''. Hay Joanna
from 1979, like WOW! Shit for crissake, What
problems can an
angry mother cause someone down the road, if he says or does things
that upset her??????????????????? Gee, let's not go here Sally Starr.
Yes I typed in another MIND-HACK PBHE SCREW UP, SAYING IN 1988, I
MEANT QUITE OBVIOUSLY THE YEAR 1998, WHEN THE GREAT SS HELPED ME OUT
IN ATLANTIC CITY AFTER MY BEACH THEFT. No typos, no PBHE (prior blog
hacks or errors) no how, no nothing, no witches, no OZ, no
confusions, no hyperspace equations, just the fucking goddess dam
facts, ma'am, huh Mister Friday, YO?????? Holy shitwater, YO!!!
Am
I right or wrong, SIR BRUCE? So why did both Bruce and I end up
seemingly watched by the powers behind the 'EW' all along ever since
we both left the (GAP) Cooley-Hall??? (Entertainment World) Hay
folks, I can easily sit here with ideas and speculations and theories
and all this lovely nice stinking crap soup. Until I have an answer
that would be able to stand up to courtroom scrutiny, keeping my big
fat ass shut might just be the fucking proper way for me to go here,
YO YO YO YO BRO!!!!!!!!
Try
getting out of this one, Dawn-Marie King, oh great
Highness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
concludes the reading of
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER---201
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
I
called the AT&T people today to complain about yesterday's
problem with their backup battery for the telephone. Long-Story-Short
(LSS), they told me to unplug it and let it beep for two hours and
then just die off, and that if I want, I can dispose of it but to do
it legally. They don't even take it back or use it anymore, as things
changed since the time that I procured my account with them a few
years ago.
YOU
ARE NOW READING HALLS WALLS
CHAPTER
#200
I
do not have much longer to live, and I know this. I am anxiously
looking forward to my death, just not my murder, Sheriff Ken Mascara,
sir.
We
are into the blistery third of the year here in Fort Pierce, June
through September. The high can be under 90 some times, but the South
Central and South Florida humidity makes it monster ass hellish, for
those like me who are more in love with cooler temps. Now on with
Callio's show and some blow without any reefers and tumbleweeds.
I
asked who or what is the most behind my medical problems; since my
family doctor, who I had as a boy, Frank Addiego of Westmont, New
Jersey, USA; died in the year 2000. Also between 2000 and this very
present time, including my horrible time at the Walgreen's pharmacy
just the other day, who or what is most responsible for all of this
nightmare fuckiGN hell?
I
was given the answer of PCN-624. For
reasons anyone following me for a decade almost now can see quite
Nash-clearly, without any dam Clariton rip-offs or 1-2-3
caller-lovers; the four items that are in my match-book for this
number stand out like sore Sarah Callio fucking lighthouse teeth!!!
TWO
EMPTY LETTERS, MOCKINGBIRD LANE, TELEPHONE NUMBER, LOVE IS FOR
CARPENTERS DREAM.
I
also asked me' ol' GAGA kitty cat, some other whittle questions, and
I got some real major fucking answers. I am not going to print up a
lot of junk right now; just a brief and compressed report going as
follows: Those who know how to work the GAGA-KITTY GAWNUM-SYSTEM,
know how powerful this truly is. I honestly don't need to say another
mother freaking word right now!
Any
and every time that I am foolish enough to believe one miniscule and
infinitesimal amount, that I can defeat or beat in any meaningful
way, the Exploratronic Supermind society (ESS), this merely verifies
that the
joke
is on one big fat stupid mother fucking total asshole, and his name
is MARK WAYNE MOHR. The joke is on one big fat stupid mother fucking
total asshole, and his name is MARK WAYNE MOHR. The joke is on one
big fat stupid mother fucking total asshole, and his name is MARK
WAYNE MOHR. The joke is on one big fat stupid mother fucking total
asshole, and his name is MARK WAYNE MOHR. The joke is on one big fat
stupid mother fucking total asshole, and his name is MARK WAYNE MOHR.
The joke is on one big fat stupid mother fucking total asshole, and
his name is MARK WAYNE MOHR. The joke is on one big fat stupid mother
fucking total asshole, and his name is MARK WAYNE MOHR.
HALLS
WALLS,
CHAPTER 200
HALLS
WALLS,
CHAPTER 200
HALLS
WALLS,
CHAPTER 200
HALLS
WALLS,
CHAPTER 200
HALLS
WALLS,
CHAPTER 200
THE
WEATHER BUG
In Partnership With
and
shared by this blogger, who may be contacted through:
Local Weather Cameras
Fort Pierce, FL 34950
Well,
the only thing that I have to blame is the Exploratronic Supermind
Society. But still great folks out here, isn't that enough? What do
you gals think, Babs and Donna? Yeah Deer-Hunter Cifaloglio Anthony,
I know Donna passed, you buttwipe. At least I am not in on
conspiracies to leave shit around for security guards to
intentionally not be able to miss seeing while on rounds.
WHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!! My moves? You know it, Chuck 134 Norris,
BUD!
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
BOY
OH BOY OH BOY BRAD MESSENGER, I sure hope that your life turned out a
lot better than mine did, old buddy! Like WOW.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015
©
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)
Holy
Moley Molly; don't scratch your dam wring-worm, YO. Things
can only get better,
to quote the
lovely Egg Harbor Township Twinbay,
only they never ever seem to and I've been here as Mark Wayne Mohr
now for just about 121 semi-annums now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
GLOBAL
BLOG AUDIENCE by color-shade ratio:
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,
and WOW-WOW-WO!
JUNE
16, 2015,
TUESDAY
AFTERNOON AT 4:45,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 87 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H-88/L-72).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 63%, FEELING LIKE 95.
WINDS
ARE ESE AT 12, GUSTING TO 21.
You
know kind sheriff sir, you are a really cool dude and I always enjoy
seeing you on my local news. They keep you real busy. I always tell
my enemies, “Don't come down to this part of the wooded-neck, and
start trouble”. As you and your local area co-sheriffs know only
too well, they don't listen to me. Oh well, Halloween and BOO to us
all, huh my friend? Maybe Patty shoulda' let Merry out on Halloween
back in 1974 instead of punishing her, but then, always wondered why
certain places seem to be power-points, and even my bankruptcy
attorney up in New Jersey seemed to know something. Well, I doubt
I'll be around much more than a couple months, and it will be all
over for me, my pal Sheriff Ken Mascara. How I remember Marc up at
Harvest, saying he was one step ahead of you all the time. I told
him, not forever my friend, and he laughed. I think he and BOO bothy
ended up in your hospitality sweet up there on Rock Road. No one ever
listens to me, Kenny, sir. Hey, I'm used to that, it's been 121
deci-annums of it now in my current-me-lifetime.
Ron,
ADA, up in Jersey and back in the nineties, kind sir; you told me
they would react when tested, and you seem to know these fart bags a
lot better than I ever will. I did all the legwork you told me to do,
and it led me to places that go a few light mind universes beyond
fucking Carlisle, Pennsylvania, USA, kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh the
Astral Gods, let this poor little flower child of the sixties go and
die already, while all sisters sing about it, even in very naughty
houses. You
be polite, Tommy Dizzy-Doe-Dee
Roe/Reale!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If
you kept my stuff ANN KING; you are sitting on a gold mine, that
makes your great baseball card collection, pale by comparison. I'll
bet you already have figured this out by now.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!
The fucking fat man from China says, “me' Chinese cookie is almost as prophetic as me' I-Ching wands that I left back in Ann King's place; the rented home owned by FBI-AGENT, Steve Caruso, of Austin, Texas”!!!!!!!!
But
Patty's powerful FASCITAR tapes are a whole other ballgame, huh
MERRY???????????? October 31 is a bad one for me too, in case you are
interested.
Am
I ''ddddoin' it right'' Mr. Walmart???????
I
will never forget the way Bruce Pennock, bob McDowell, Daniel Mackey,
and Patricia Hollister; all seemed to be one huge combination of
something that I was never able to quite put my finger on back in
1974. Still, this old audio-collector from East Bengal, is still
here, and the great Copyright Office knows this, to this very day.
Fuck me, world, I must be sacrificed for the sake of the great
Jehovah-Scylla Goddess, SHE-IS!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE has this thing about
sacrificial fucking lambs, and who am I to argue with my
teen-queen?????????? After all this fence stuff, hay Bob-1400-OWL,
when in Rome, we count in Roman, and do all things Roman. Like gee
fucking willagars, YO!!!!!!!!!!!
Thank
you for the information regarding the recent persecution of me, party
who will remain nameless, for all of our goods. Yes there is a lot of
flat land here in Florida as my wonderful old pal mister Paul would
say it accurately. Still, Merry Halloween, and Christmas; JP Morgan,
and other landlords of yesteryear!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, we all have
mothers, but is that always such a great thing, when it may cost us
DAUGHTERS, living right under our noses. Talk about a mother fuckiGN
book that would dwarf Mister Patterson's entire combined collection,
squared!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
Good
night, Savant Doogie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Audience
I
do not think I will survive this attack. I will not get any sleep
tonight with this beeping all night long. If I unplug, there is no
phone, no nothing. This is why I loved the old days before all this
hi-tech fucking cunt junk, and this is why my enemies love it today,
as they are in total control of our lives, and can wipe out their
enemies covertly and harshly, and get scott fuckiGN free away with
it. Even two blankets covering it, hardly muffles the sound. If any
complaints come in, all I can do is tell the truth, What was I
supposed to do? This never happened to me before! Assholes are going
in and out, and it is half past three; so none of these dirt bags can
complain about me with all the fuckiGN shit they do anyway. Well, now
I need to buy a new video machine, and a backup power brick; at
Walmart. I guess I'll be eating soup for a few weeks. This
is how my enemies keep me endlessly down, oppressed, and poverty
stricken. This has gone on all of my mother fuckiGN life.
Don't tell me not to bitch and complain, you phonies out there. These
preachers make it all sound so good. Let them live my cunt chewing
life for a while, and watch them fucking curse out GOD from one end
of the church, straight to the other end, and back again.
When
I went out on my errands, they somehow wiped out my backup power
brick, and this has caused all this hell and aggravation.
My
third and final spread, over the two blankets, seems to have kept the
noise from this defective brick to a minimum. I sure won't get cold
in the night, and need any of them. The lows have not been under 80
to the south of me for a week, and even here it barely drops below
the fucking eighties. I just hope when the super disasters strike
soon; they remember this night, and what was done to me; and then let
them really mother fuckiGN cry into their cunt huffing beers.
It
is twenty minutes before four now, on this cunt chewing Tuesday
morning. The date as stated earlier on prior blogs, is 16 June, and
this was all done by way of ICPE-APE-TECH. I know it, and I know I'll
never prove it. I just hope after I am gone that others are targeted
with this, and then you will be sorry that you refused to give me any
credibility. If you think I'll cry a fucking tear for any of you from
my fucking cunt grave, you're a sorry ass mother fucker. That much I
can tell you.
I
PROMISE A MINIMUM OF 500 POINTS UP ON THAT DOW JONES, AFTER THIS
WICKED SATANIC FUCKING NIGHT, STRAIGHT OUT OF FUCKING DISEASED
HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IT
IS GOING TO FUCKING BE THE END
OF
ME, REAL FUCKING SOON!!!!!!!!!!!
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 199
TANSTALKER
AND MOUNTAINPEN
New
adventures of Tanstalker & Mountainpen will be upcoming,
folks!!!!!!!!!
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
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