HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 220

MARK WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN MOHR

Words spoken in a parallel universe to the great Apostle Peter, by the Lord (SAR) Jesus Christ, may very well be, ANYTHING THAT IS NOT FOUND HERE, SUCH AS PASSCODES, WOULD BE UP THERE, OR THEY MAY BE HERE,SO ALWAYS CHECK THEM BOTH!

Now the very last thing that I want to do, is to get 'Listener Theresa' of WFMU internet radio, all up set or excited; but here goes any how;

My 1985 doctor M. Miller Bittle, ''My Philadelphia Father'' book.

C Miller Biddle MD.

Directions

Internist
Address: 701 E Main St, Moorestown, NJ 08057

Phone:(856) 727-9907

GONE, unable to locate.

Ihosvani Miguel, M.D.
1400 S. Andrews Ave.
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33316
855-844-1545
Specialty: Endocrinology

You may view the physician's profile by following the link below and entering the physician's name into the search field.

The agent is sending you to http://www.mhs.net/physicians/search-results/searchtype/bylastname/.

Al: Is there anything else I can assist you with?

They do not take Welcare either, I was given two bum steers by the Hospital Live Chat Agent!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Memorial Center For Integrative Endocrine Surgery

David N. Bimston, MD

Allan Golding, MD

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Run For The Roses

JUNE 29, 2015,

MONDAY NIGHT AT 10:37,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 74 DEGREES FNHT.

RANGE TODAY-------(H-94/L-72).

HUMIDITY IS 94%, FEELING LIKE 78 DEGREES.

WIND IS NW AT 4, WITH GUSTS TO 40.

THESE ARE FORT PIERCE AIRPORT READINGS, AND THE WIND SEEMS TO BE CALM AROUND MY BUILDING; A NUMBER OF MILES FROM THE AIRPORT, IN THE SOUTHEASTERLY DIRECTION. DUH-DUH-WHAAAA!!!!!!

EVER SINCE 1980 THIS STARTED, AND TO QUOTE MISTER NON-DEEDEE ANDERTON OF THE SOON TO FOLLOW 'L&O' TV-SHOW; WHEN IT STARTS, ''IT STARTS''!

HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 220

Image result for images free funny faces

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, DETECTIVE FONTANNA!

JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, DETECTIVE FONTANNA!JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, DETECTIVE FONTANNA!

JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, DETECTIVE FONTANNA!

JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, DETECTIVE FONTANNA!JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, DETECTIVE FONTANNA!

JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, DETECTIVE FONTANNA!

JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, DETECTIVE FONTANNA!JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, DETECTIVE FONTANNA!

JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, DETECTIVE FONTANNA!

I have lots of fucking shit to cry about,but then, so do a lot of other people, so boo-hoo-hoo for fucking poor old me.

Still, my life is different from anyone else. Maybe some lives are even worse than mine, as anything is possible. But I know that no life is weirder than mine. I doubt anyone reading these blogs would give me too much argument with that, either. Still, let me tell you all why it is so weird before future blogs even attempt to scratch the surface about the Astral Plane Briggbase, as well as the ESS and many things that have all been talked about by me for a decade, but not ever totally tied together in one of those neat non scatter-brained packages, so adored and worshiped by the Terry Eggheads of the world, at the Jersey harbors!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If there ever was a really super abridged and compressed anything on these decade long blogs; it will be this following lead in foundational information. The great Carlos Castaneda, one of the great New Age authors of many fantastic books; discussed how people know each other from other realms and agree to all meet here in this one to accomplish tasks, and all the while, not ever remember the realer shit behind the so-called screen. The Briggbase is what he was referring to, without being aware of it, in my opinion. He may very well be aware of it and was just smart enough, unlike me, to keep his mouth shut.

Now I am in no way implying that all of the people involved in my life in one way or the other, are in their truer essence, Briggbase residents. But a large majority of them are, and this has to be the truth, as otherwise, those anti-pollution television commercials that aired late in the sixties, with my voice on the one where the pigs were on the beach, just never could have happened. But a lot more than even this is involved in my life. Not only are a slew of name recognized people, all a part of different places throughout my recent as well as more distant past; but my knowledge and memory of each one, was somehow effected, so as to cause me not to be aware of anything until well after I no longer was involved with them. I am not saying that anything has to be behind this shit, but merely am stating that some force somewhere, caused me to interact with a dozen people who all at future times, became world wide name recognized, and also, a mind-block seemed to stop me from being aware of these people, all of them, not just one or two or three. This may sound more far out or just way more stupid to a lot of you reading this, but I am going to tell you that I believe this entire thing is some wild game, played by some sicko juvy, from a higher reality. I remember saying and telling that very thing to a high school classmate of mine who came to Haddonwood one day in 1995, as well as my two friends there, Joe and Andy, and also to several others, both there and at other places that were a part of my life in those times. Each time I would dare to say this aloud, the immediate counterattack that was launched against me, was beyond off the scale; if I can quote the great late President Ronald Reagan.

We can always do a James Rockford, and get back to this powerful topic. Right now, I want to say THANK YOU LOVELY WONDERFUL AWESOME DIANA ARTEEMIS, for coming over to visit with me this afternoon. I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU SO MUCH, OH PRECIOUS GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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BLOG BIO, ON JUNE 29, 2015, 11:22 P.M.

Now the problem with what I am going to say in a moment, is that without believing in this Castaneda Syndrome of Dreaming, to call the ESS, and give it more credibility, since this is a great world recognized author; none of this story called Morianity would have a snowballs chance in fucking hell of ever making a bit of logical rational sense. But applying my powerful story, along with, as well as into, Carlos Castaneda, and his great 'dream-books'; and finally, you will see some powerful shit is going on; and you won't be able to deny it! Not with real honest logic and reasoning. You literally would be forced to reach the conclusion, that Morianity is real. Just this man's great books are one thing. But take his books, and my claims about my life for nearly 61 years; and you will get a blast that is far beyond 1,000 atomic bombs. I promise!!!!!!!!!!!!! So as I said, I could print up a few hundred words or more on any topic that these blogs have taken you through for ten years now. Here is one selected purely at random, but as you read it; try reading it while remembering the Castaneda Syndrome. No one just falls into interactions with a dozen people that all go onto be world renown huge successful people, not unless they were say the Queen of England or some big billionaire. It merely goes against all odds, all possible statistical analysis, and on and on I could go. Let me instead, stop and just paste in this little story.

Yes, many folks have come to Fort Pierce, following me down here literally. Some my distant family, some part of the ESS naturally, and still others, whoever and whatever they REALLY are, some are the soldiers on my side of this army-fight, praise the GODDESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, to get into to much when I am this weak, beginning the 28^th mother fucking day of last August in 2013, as you all know, or should know unless someone is totally new to the blogs and Morianity and Mountainpen, as you all know my problem with MUSIC, only none of us really can know WHY this music problem exists, but a child on moron pills can see it plain and clear as days spent with Johnny Nash. In a super compressed nutshell my good folks, here is what I can, and thus, WILL say and tell right now before closing out this blog for this night. SSJKK wants me to know who she is, back as Sarah Nurockey in the sixties of Atlantic City, as well as early in the seventies in Coolie Hall of Haddonfield, New Jersey, as another Sarah, Mizz beyond super girl white hot Jacobson. Then there is now, which until the middle and late nineties, I was as clueless to this newest and latest incarnation on her part, as a new born baby would be to the great formula of E=MC SQ. BUT little by little; she did things, that made me know, that she indeed, is my SARAH KRASSLE; and she can just go on denying it all she wants to; because we both know it is true. When I went walking underneath Central Pier, I never hit my head on a low beam. Paula King, street name when my kid's mom was in that area and at that time and having marital woes and was philandering around without ever leaving her house many times, as a what else, T3E, still, one year after she had her way with me on the first Saturday in July's 1969 year, she popped up again, most likely exploratronically. She entered into my head and made me believe that I had hit a low cement beam underneath the pier. Then she told me that she did what she did a year ago from this early July morning ion 1970 and that I may want to know that I have a very lovely non Amanda Harris Jones daughter, State Police of New Jersey and government intimidations clubs of the north. When I was later on walking down Tennessee Avenue still dazed from it all, no copyright Office, the thrill of my life did not come along, only thoughts in my head that I have to be imagining this, as it is so fucking totally crazy. The only problem was that I was holding onto a newspaper that this lovely woman had given to me. It was the Wildwood Press, dated one of the first 6 days in July of 1970, please do not ask me which one, I merely have a powerful memory that it was somewhere between the first and the sixth day, and it could have been any one of these six. This paper was inside of a thin box. It had buttons to touch and was filled with bright blue and yellow prompts. I remember getting to Pacific Avenue and catching the Jitney-Bus south to Cornwall Avenue, and going home before going out and swimming again. I also remember having a towel with me, and wrapping this thing up inside of this large white towel, and before leaving the area of the Central Pier, I also took a short dip in the sea. When I had come back from my second swim, and walked back to child molester Thomas J. Reale's rental property where he had me staying, and abused me sexually, twice in there; first by hand, and second orally; I took a nap and got up and it was around 7 in the evening. Ziggy had just told me to get lost as many who know my ugly story of 1979, know all about this. He was my boy-hero, and I cried every day and night and could not figure out why he told me to ''Go home'' and would not speak to me any longer. Later of course, I learned, not from my mom going back and talking with him, as he never dared tell the total truth to the ugly monstrous things going on in Atlantic City, but I learned he wanted me home and out of there, not just to be with peeps my own age more, or because he was concerned about Reale the molester, not that these things were not more than sufficient. Ziggy and Trinidad Hotel Manager Soifer, and Restaurant Owner Pincus, all three right within a few years of all of this shit in 1970, died from a horrible form of what is known as Galloping Cancer, a type of cancer that is on steroids and runs much faster than ordinary cancers, taking a patient to the grave in record times. Ziggy supposedly died in 1973, and Pincus and Soifer, all went within a year one way or the other of Ziggy. These three dudes all knew what had happened to me with Tom Reale, and were now considered by Chicago Mob Boss Gallagher, to be extremely dangerous loose ends. They never died of fucking galloping cancer, all were murdered and died really horrific agonizing deaths. My old blogs from 2006-2009 speak about all this hellish nightmarish shit time and time again, it is all there to be archived by any one of you at any time. The ESS is powerful and something connected to all of it had to be covered up. One of these travelers had obviously somehow managed to bring back to 1970 physically, what now in 2014 and form the past few years, is called, a ''TABLET''. Only this tablet was very advanced, containing the PEEF, or the PEE FEATURE. I remember to this very minute in future time, folks, the word on the side of this thing that I used to just call the Wildwood Press paper placed inside of some weird thin box containment. By tapping certain keys, you became a part of this networking cloud system and actually were mentally transported into it where it was simulating reality as if you were there. I can only wonder if the logo PEEF meant anything to do with my genius computer younger daughter, lovely PEE. In 1970, she was not close to being born, this would be almost 27 years out in the future on March 29 of 1997.

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Monday, June 29, 2015

HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 220

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