Friday, July 24, 2015

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT LIVES ON IN C21 AND M3, CHAPTER 5












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AFTER MORIANITY BOOK TITLE:

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT LIVES ON IN C-21 & M-3


CHAPTER 005



Lightning came to visit with me again for a short while today, making forgeous colors in the distance out towards my northeast. You'll always be my number one, great lovely Goddess Diana!



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WELCOME TO JUPITER INLET, FLORIDA, USA

Jupiter Inlet Cam is a courtesy of TWB and Channel 12 local TV.




TO ARCHIVE OLDER BLOGS FROM BEFORE THE END OF TWENTY-ELEVEN, USE THESE LINKS, PLEASE; KIND LADS AND LASSIES!

























































































My dirt bag nabes across from me have been going in and out all cunt chewing fucking afternoon, and are annoying me big fucking time, YO!!!!!!!!!!!


1986, and the fifteenth of August on that year; are something in my life that is inescapable as well as irrational. Nothing inside of mother fucking sanity, can be a part of that situation. I know this, and lots of people who have great fucking power, know it to be totally the truth, as well. Will they come forward to help, or just make shit fucking worse for me; one must ponder. Well ponder no more after nearly three dick licking fucking decades, folks. They only chose to make things way fucking worse for me, YO!!!!!!!



From the middle part of 1986 through the early nineties, things for me were so bleak, that no six hour period could ever pass, that I did not seriously contemplate fucking taking my life, and all of the possible ways to get the job done successfully. Somehow I managed to survive this unfathomable hell. I can state with a knowing that no one out here reading these words could have. Hate me if you want to, but I know this as fact; not guess-work! Still, there are so many things that need to be addressed before these blogs can ever really shut down forever. One is those final years and times of the eighties, when this fucking nightmare shit all got a foothold and a strangle hold on me and my pitiful pathetic life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hackers have fucking knocked out my fucking SPELL-CHECK program, so I am going to reboot and see if it pops up if I do, Bob McDowell, FCC!!!!! OK kind sir, this hack removed by doing this.


People are incapable of going out beyond the tiny circle of their own truths that surround their lives and that of basic normalcy. So not only do I have to suffer this inconceivable fucking endless curse; but people shun and ostracize me on top of the already existing fucking bullshit I am forced to endure and suffer through.


The situation for me is so mother fucking horrendous that no words could ever hope to scratch any surface of this waking mother fucking nightmare. It is why all people around me love to annoy me and hurt me and fuck with me, from womb to pussy huffing cunt lapping tomb. And you wonder why my mother fucking language sucks a big fat throbbing hard cock at light speed fucking squared?


Life is a very funny old dog for everybody, and all of us in different ways. But if I ever told the truth about the wormhole in the Cooley Hall, and all that I know about it along with two of its other triangulated counter-points, and how this seems to have effected Gloucester City in New Jersey; I honestly believe the entire world would go stark raving fucking looney tunes within eight hours. I am going to paste in a few things that are very necessary at this exact time and in the days to follow. You see people, we all are, because we really have many trillion tiny little parts of ourselves interacting in a hyperspace that is three dimensionally to the Neuro-Surgeons, only this is one hell of an Einsteinian fucking illusion, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This entire computer has been hacked again, Federal Communications Commission, Bob McDowell sir. The Weather Bug TWB, and other shit, is inoperative, and the entire system is trying to crash, Mizz Pam AG Bondi, Sheriff Ken Mascara of Saint Lucie County, and Governor Rick Scott, and ACLU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


TWB has been all hacked out, and no readings are up there. I cannot give any information onto the blog other than it is now 9:40 AM, 11 May, 2015, and we are just now entering the official middle of May, that runs from 8 AM today through 4 PM on the twentieth. The temperature reading on the screen icon shows 68 degrees but it is not a trustworthy reading because clicking onto the TWB-APP shows 0 degrees and all other readings show up blanks.




As you know, I was MIND HACKED when I printed the chapter number on my previous blog, it was not 115 but 125, and this is 126, but because I have put in parts of other additional sections that on my document files are sort of titled the 'B' to the other un-lettered A-number chapters, I have called this blog CH. 125/126---A & B.



Now the system saves immediately at a quarter shy of ten. Yesterday got very hot and humid and felt into the mid ninetyish range here in Fort Pierce. The weekend was another hot one. As you know they ruined it by destroying another one of my video machines that I will have to take to my new repair guy. But the story that led up to how and why it broke is even larger than just the event of it being broken for absolutely no good logical reason, ''out of the blue again'' of course. I call this being BLUCRAN'D! It is nothing to joke or laugh about, so don't expect to see a bunch of Chester Perkowski stuff here, Misses Bassler and everyone else. We all had out lives changed by Tennessee Avenue of ACNJUSA, Chester, not just you. Only I do not in the very same sentence say both this, and then say all is fine and normal. I am wondering who is wilder in the grand scheme of al of this nightmare crap, you, or 1969's Secretary of State McNamara? PP also is on that list of who is really wilder. After-all, David Roth and I saw instantly the absurdity of his letter to me back in the late part of last century, yet PP read it and said, ''we were both whackadoodles''. I believe that's a direct quote. How people can be like that when shit is right there in black and white, can only be explained by the very same thing that explains rationally, all of the unknown mysteries that humankind has wondered about since its existence. This would be none other than the Exploratronic Supermind Society.


Up until watching that great Tom Cruise movie back on Saturday; I know that things were different than they are for me now, regarding his being in a situation in the show where before firing in a dogfight, he said, “What's my excuse”. This has somehow been blotted out of reality, in the very same way that the Almighty claims in the Christian Bible, our sins will be blotted out, if we accept the Lord JESUS CHRIST as our personal lord and Savior, and then repent and turn away from our sins to become 'born again'. Poof Potter, it has been blotted out, just as in my suddenly being in different towns in 2008, Chatsworth verses Hammonton, even if I am not a WZYV Hanging in there Huntington of all the great 2007 forest-fires, and secret magnification weaponry; Mister Archimedes. Where are you when I need you, John and Photeous of 10-SC Avenue? Only the ESS explains it all, and leaves out nothing. But it is too wild for people to grasp. Even the mighty and ever so wise CHINESE folks who knew first about all of this before any of its cohabitant populations anywhere; with their book of changes or the 'I-CHING'. Craig Mirrors and I shared a few wild talks about playing around with this wild tool and he was no ordinary person. I have an ability to see a more perfect truth if it is reflected. One day while he was over at my Somerdale home on Harvard Avenue along with his coworker, Fred Winstein; back in the summer time of 1997; I saw his reflection in a large bedroom mirror, as we all were in my room doing something with a computer that I had bought from them at their Radio Shack Store. He appeared perfectly normal to look at him directly, but when I saw him reflected in my large mirror, he looked like the slowly worsening portrait of the famous Dorian Gray. Who knows what I may have looked like to him through that mirror, as we both played around with the I-CHING.



It was shortly after this incident with Mirrors Craig that I had Fred Winstein over only, and the computer went nuts like in a horror fucking movie, and the power went off as well. In those days it was dial up internet, and so the phone was needed to go online. There was a horrible noise that was made and then you were, hopefully, connected. This tied up your telephone also. Really young peeps today do not remember these earlier internet days. A strange automobile was parked right outside my house, and there was no reason for it. Fred and I were convinced a bomb was in it, and would be going off soon. It didn't, but the entire shit was right out of a Steven King and James Patterson commingled novel from hell! Fred said the same thing to me that David Roth went onto say a couple of years later. “The Callio's are too powerful. If we keep digging around, they're gonna' kill the both of us, and get scott free away with it”. You know, the Dawn King Syndrome of knowing that my kid would as well, if she wanted to ice me. But Dawn was a bigger issue. I don't need to be hit with a pile of bricks to know she was used from time to time by ESS, and my kid owns and controls ESS along with all other things. As she said from the top of the Empire State Building back in 2008, and it went over everyone's head bu mine, just as she knew would be the result, “I RULE”. And she does. A year after I ran away, twelve and a half months later, on New Years Day of 2011, Dawn died in the Atlanticare Hospital, and they all just let her die, to quote Ann King. This was a very strong and healthy 42 year old woman, folks. Give me a break. I was born at 9:30, but not at night. Even if I had been born at night, this was not last night, and I don't buy into one nine hundredth of all of these crazy nutty unexplainable coincidences; ADA Abbey Lowtolerance Carmichael. Notice speaking of patterns and timing and coincidences and all of this horse shit; two weeks before last evening's attack, was the other strange voice in my head to turn on the radio bullshit. It is all on blogs from that time in case you missed it, and I am not planning to repeat and reiterate it right now.


Attacks on me come in both short and long running spurts of stuff. Rapped up in this magic is why the entire thing since middle late summer of 1986 started all of this nightmare hell with me.


Attacks on me come in both short and long running spurts of stuff. Rapped up in this magic is why the entire thing since middle late summer of 1986 started all of this nightmare hell with me.


Attacks on me come in both short and long running spurts of stuff. Rapped up in this magic is why the entire thing since middle late summer of 1986 started all of this nightmare hell with me.


Attacks on me come in both short and long running spurts of stuff. Rapped up in this magic is why the entire thing since middle late summer of 1986 started all of this nightmare hell with me.











































































































































































































































Well, so why did I begin playing with voices and tape recorders, 'MOTHER/DAUGHTER/ELECTRON' ???












On some occasions, I agree with Cuzz Donnie. When asked about someone else, he said, ask his wife. I thought that was a fantastic response, and I give credit where credit is due. Hey, ask Bruce Pennock and Bob McDowell, and then, well; ask Patty, and all the Macy Bunch, even my Cuzz, as he knows a lot about dear old sweet little me, from here to Highview and even the great beyond!!!

People, I started messing with this after Bruce Pennock put me onto one simple trick back in 1972. But then the student went way past the professor. I learned that reality would respond to the will of the electromagnetic's that ran tape recorders, IF OF COURSE, you were both onto and aware of it, as well as understood a few other little facts not known by too many in this part of the universe. Some right about now might say, “Shit Mountainpen, ain't that the fucking cat's meow?


Take it fucking easy there, Mister Tanstalker!








































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I WOULD MUCH RATHER HAVE PAULA AND DAWN STRAPPED INSIDE AN EM FIELD, THAT KEEPS THEM TRAPPED; THAN JUST BIG DAWN, YO!!!!!!!!!!


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I WOULD MUCH RATHER HAVE PAULA AND DAWN STRAPPED INSIDE AN EM FIELD, THAT KEEPS THEM TRAPPED; THAN JUST BIG DAWN, YO!!!!!!!!!!



































































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SO JUST WHERE IS MY PROJECT NUMBER 29, OH MARVELOUS GREAT POWERFUL COPYRIGHT OFFICE EXAMINERS, AND LOVELY ATTORNEY GENERAL PAM BONDI???


Talk about the diction that only we know; bugler blower! I do think you were totally correct about all the shit you told me, kind friend. Ever think about retiring down here in this lovely wasteland they call Florida? WEEEEEEEEEE!

Talk about the diction that only we know; bugler blower! I do think you were totally correct about all the shit you told me, kind friend. Ever think about retiring down here in this lovely wasteland they call Florida? WEEEEEEEEEE!

Talk about the diction that only we know; bugler blower! I do think you were totally correct about all the shit you told me, kind friend. Ever think about retiring down here in this lovely wasteland they call Florida? WEEEEEEEEEE!

Talk about the diction that only we know; bugler blower! I do think you were totally correct about all the shit you told me, kind friend. Ever think about retiring down here in this lovely wasteland they call Florida? WEEEEEEEEEE!

Talk about the diction that only we know; bugler blower! I do think you were totally correct about all the shit you told me, kind friend. Ever think about retiring down here in this lovely wasteland they call Florida? WEEEEEEEEEE!

Talk about the diction that only we know; bugler blower! I do think you were totally correct about all the shit you told me, kind friend. Ever think about retiring down here in this lovely wasteland they call Florida? WEEEEEEEEEE!


And for that matter, I taped the Saturday show on C-SPAN where Mister 1984 car-wrecks admits, oh great sir Ron Prosecutor Wirtz Senior of 1990; that he tells people what to do, and they do it.

And for that matter, I taped the Saturday show on C-SPAN where Mister 1984 car-wrecks admits, oh great sir Ron Prosecutor Wirtz Senior of 1990; that he tells people what to do, and they do it.

And for that matter, I taped the Saturday show on C-SPAN where Mister 1984 car-wrecks admits, oh great sir Ron Prosecutor Wirtz Senior of 1990; that he tells people what to do, and they do it.

And for that matter, I taped the Saturday show on C-SPAN where Mister 1984 car-wrecks admits, oh great sir Ron Prosecutor Wirtz Senior of 1990; that he tells people what to do, and they do it.

And for that matter, I taped the Saturday show on C-SPAN where Mister 1984 car-wrecks admits, oh great sir Ron Prosecutor Wirtz Senior of 1990; that he tells people what to do, and they do it.

And for that matter, I taped the Saturday show on C-SPAN where Mister 1984 car-wrecks admits, oh great sir Ron Prosecutor Wirtz Senior of 1990; that he tells people what to do, and they do it.

And for that matter, I taped the Saturday show on C-SPAN where Mister 1984 car-wrecks admits, oh great sir Ron Prosecutor Wirtz Senior of 1990; that he tells people what to do, and they do it.

And for that matter, I taped the Saturday show on C-SPAN where Mister 1984 car-wrecks admits, oh great sir Ron Prosecutor Wirtz Senior of 1990; that he tells people what to do, and they do it.

And for that matter, I taped the Saturday show on C-SPAN where Mister 1984 car-wrecks admits, oh great sir Ron Prosecutor Wirtz Senior of 1990; that he tells people what to do, and they do it.

And for that matter, I taped the Saturday show on C-SPAN where Mister 1984 car-wrecks admits, oh great sir Ron Prosecutor Wirtz Senior of 1990; that he tells people what to do, and they do it.







\\\\\Who is the one that gave me some things to ponder about?///// Well, it wasn't Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, and it wasn't their great pal Patty-Paula-Somnambulist either. I guess that leaves Mister S. Chantzatar, also one of moms ancient co-workers of the ''great powerful shipping company''. Jesus Almighty, no wonder Mister Burnheeb never helped me, PP!




JULY 24, 2015
FRIDAY AFTERNOON, IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA.
THE TIME IS 4:19 P.M.
THE TEMPERATURE IS 79 DEGREES.
RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS 94%, FEELING LIKE 86 DEGREES.
MOSTLY CLOUDY WITH SOME RAIN, CLEARING LATE.
WIND IS NNW AT 7, WITH GUSTS TO 33.
TEMPERATURE RANGE TODAY-----(H-89/L-75).















Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
PAu001148157
1988
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
PAu001189027
1989


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I HAVE MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING COMPUTER HACKING TODAY, KIND BOB MCDOWELL AND WHOEVER REPLACED HIM, AS CHAIRMAN OF THE FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!! THIS MOUSE IS UNDER THE TOTAL FUCKING CUNT CONTROL OF AN ILLEGAL HACKER, MIZZ AG-PAM BONDI AND GOBVERNOR RICK SCOTT, MA'AM & SIR; & UNDER THE ORDERS OF MY CUZZ, I AM QUITE SURE; HUIH C-SPAN??????????? WOW THIS, HUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LIKE SHEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!




CHAPTER 5 TERMINATES TRANSMISSION.

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