CHAPTER
29
HELL
IS FIXED IN STONE AND FIRE
TTTTTTOM
RRRREEALE is a lot happier than I will ever be. Something my cousin
Donald said on the C-Span a month or so ago, made me know that I am
one totally fucking cooked goose at the speed of light squared, Sarah
Diction; and that is about how God
blesses him. Somehow I knew then, that this same GODD-ESS
has cursed me, and will go on doing so, until the day my
body becomes cunt fucking sucking huffing maggots!!!!
QUIT
HACKING, YA JERK OFFS!!!!
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
AUGUST
16, 2015,
SUNDAY
AFTERNOON AT 3:41,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 90 DEGREES.
RANGE
TODAY-----(H-90/L-74).
HUMIDITY
IS 62%, FEELING LIKE 101.
WINDS
ARE SE AT 13, GUSTING TO 14.
The
Fire Company has lived here today. Only one alarm went off but the
fire engines were back at half past two and lots of shouting was
going on in my hallway again and door slamming, but then, my noisy
ass nabes have been active throughout the entire weekend. Why I
never heard a second alarm is anyone's guess. I sure do not know.
A
lot of totally unexplainable shit is going down around me, both
now, and throughout the past six plus decades since my
current-me-physical birth. I wouldn't even dare start to attempt
to figure it all out. Oh the dam gods, where to even think about
beginning, YO?
First
off, lovely Goddess Diana as been visiting me regularly every
single day, with her scrumptious gorgeous lightning. I love her
beyond any possible way of explaining things. Last night around
eleven she started flashing bright yellow up in the clouds just
the same color of her canary yellow hair. This went on off and on
until nearly three this morning. I would drift off into sleep and
be with her and then come sliding back off the purg and into
hyperspace here to her lovely lightning in such spectacular colors
and fractal designs all over me out my sixth floor window. THANK
YOU BABY-BLOND!
I
got through August fifteenth without major incident, praise the
great Jehovah Lordess. Thank you for helping me through my
nightmare, kind Sheriff. I sure wish the ADA R.W. Up in Camden
would get on board. I know he knows so much about all of this that
it ain't one bit funny. He always insisted that it was big
business that was behind it all, and that to quote him, they have
buddies all over the place. Just listening to the news and up to
date political news, and a child and a moron loser can see that
every single thing I talked about on these blogs for a fucking
solid decade now, is coming to life word for word, out in the
media-world. Deny my reality world; all you want to. It is
exploding right in front of your faces, all that I have said. He
is even admitting it Ron, just not calling you first, kind sir!
This bastard fucking snake ruined my entire life, and to this day
thinks it funny as shit. And none of you in authority care while
this army from hell takes over th eplanet in th next few years and
all of everything begins tumbling towards th e end of days here.
Everything I ever claimed and said is right now fresh and
happening, day after day after mother fucking asshole day, kind
sir Mister Wirtz, SR.
How
I love the scientific mind. They want to live forever in this
reality of whatever sewer mess it really is, or if not them, their
genetic hand me downs (descendants). Well, you will, but you'll
never believe a thing I say as the past ten years and the current
events proves that to a fucking fault and a tee.
They
discuss things in cosmos such as steady state verses expansion and
so many items, and are as clueless a playpen of babies throwing
food-goo at each other with puke expelling from their mouths.
Absolute
dimension is very real and works in two separate directions.
There are eleven dimensions but not in the way that mathematicians
believe this to all be working. There is singularity and then
there is a five dimensional dream out on each side or hemisphere
around singularity. One gets larger, and the other gets smaller.
The very end of the largest possible large becomes the very
smallest of the very smallest of the smallest possible small. Bend
anything out far enough, and LAWTRONICS sends it full circle and
curves it around, and even largest expanded space eventually
becomes one and the same with smallest possible singularity. It
just goes round and round. Still from zero dimension, it could
appear in that frame of reference to break out small and break out
big on two ends, and in hyperspace dimensionality, so 5+5+1 =11.
People of science will try to complicate this simple truth that
all things go into a circle after the lawtronic bend down, and
they will see it there way. They will make simple shit real
intricate, with Higgs Boson and energies of zippie and wave
particle dualities and a million other things. Nothing ever starts
and it won't stop, other than inside of a huge illusion where it
appears to do just that. Tim Barber, inventor of that weird
eternal life machine that I saw years and years ago back in his
basement, put me onto some of these facts.When you see stuff, I
guess that is when you know, and not before. I do know that if you
take a look at tiny particles from the earliest plank reality, it
is no different that looking at any of us right now. We make tools
and from them we build buildings and homes and offices and then
cities and so forth. Subatomically, the very first little
machine-entities or particles simply are doing the very same
thing, and the ultimate city that is designed, becomes the worlds
of th eatoms. This was all an organized plan, and is known as
LAWTRONIC up around the year 2240, at the World Laboratories.
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Happy
birthday, Emmy-Louise Cicone (Amy).
Good-bye
Miss Janey Bitch Water-Witch!!!
Some
things are even worse than my powerful ''nightmares from the Red
White and Blue Ski Lodge!
While
the beating was going on, someone from inside the main area hollered
out, ”turn on the dam ass music, so that we don't have to hear the
prick yelling so much”. Suddenly I could hear the word 'MY' and
then a really loud drumbeat, and then the song that I wrote back in
early August of 1986, called, “Real Good Girl'', began playing on a
powerful system. I heard my own rotten voice singing it, and the
powerful loud crashing of the cymbals and the loud drum like sounds
from numerous fake things that made those sounds, right down to me
pounding my fists hard on the floor of my landlord's home in Cherry
Hill, at 1931 Route 70, AKA the Marlton Pike, East. After the song
was over, I noticed that another sign was hanging in the room that I
was in, saying, CONGRATS TO THE
GRADUATES OF CHELTENHAM HIGH. For those who just may remember
from blogs around 2010, I had a powerful interaction about my cousin
Donald and my cousin Sandy; and part of it was about them telling me
to go over to that high school, in Pennsylvania, and just exactly
why; I could not and still cannot; begin to imagine the reason. I
have never even been to Cheltenham, Pennsylvania.
UP-UP-UP-UP,
FOREVER!!!!
JUST
PERSECUTE MARK WAYNE MOHR LAST FRIDAY TO HELL AND BACK, RIGHT
SHERIFF, SIR?????????????????
AFTER
MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3
PIP-PIP-PIP-PIP,
BILLY MUMMY SIR!!!
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 180
DATFILE:
CH-180-063011.362
THURSDAY
MORNING, ENDING
DAY
OF FIRST HALF OF 2K11
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995/4TH
SUB:
“NIGHTMARES
SQUARED, WITHOUT
TPB'S
RASPBERRY VALLEY”
WORLD
LABS OF 2297, SEND-BACK-TEXT
COPYRIGHTED
© BLOGS
OF
MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2011
PROTECTED
LEGAL INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY
CONTAINED
IN MANY OF THESE BLOGS OF
MORE
THAN FIVE YEARS, CLAIMS BEING
ADVISED
AND NOTICE OFFICIALLY GIVEN
I
was minding my own business, and lost my waking world awareness,
before even shutting down my television, and putting away a snack
that I was eating; and I fell into a very surreal, and major vivid
dreaming experience, and interaction. My daughter PEE, as she always
has insisted on being called by this nickname that she gave to
herself as a very small child, was about sixteen years old, and it
was early in October in the year of 2014, as a calendar that was
circled, was visually hanging from a bright yellow wall in a corridor
that resembled her detention center, only it was different as well,
as this was not a detention center, but a college dorm. She was a
co-ed, and had a boyfriend that she seemed to like quite well; and I
did not like him all that much, but what father ever approves of his
daughter's boyfriends? Paula King Junior, or Pee, was there with him,
and I also was there, and remember the layout of 3 rooms, and a
corridor, and could describe details perfectly to a police detective
or investigator, with no trouble whatsoever; as it was this vivid and
clear. I could describe both my daughter, and the boy. The only thing
that if I was privy of, that no longer remains in my conscious world
memory, would be the name of the boy that she was tight with. He was
slender, and quite athletic in appearance, with sandy blond hair,
standing just over six feet tall, wearing bright colored clothes,
with neatly arranged hair of average college length for today's
times, and had a very unusual speaking voice that is a bit difficult
to describe, almost robotic, as though the dude was a constructed
android from the future, lacking the science fiction television show
android 'Data' on TNG-Star Trek's sophisticated normally sounding
human type of voice. My daughter's physical beauty is beyond
description, and all though she is stunning at twelve for a child,
had indeed blossomed into young womanhood, and would most definitely
make a heavenly angel, jealous and angry of her unfathomable
goddess-like beauty, and awesome power. The two of them were debating
a word that sounded very similar to the World War Two event, known as
the Comocosi Pilots, who intentionally crashed their fighter jets
into the American Aircraft Carrier Transport Ships. It was a word
sounding like the word 'Comocosi', spelled the gods only know how,
and not recognized by Spell-Checker, as WW-2 will not be either,
given one or two centuries obviously; in this absurdly fast moving
paced society of ours. However, it was not exactly this word, and my
daughter pronounced it for me, and never told me the meaning of it,
and then the two of them continued debating this while I went
straight ahead into a room from the ending corridor, and they went
from a room from the left, into a room that was off to the right, all
lit up bright and very colorfully. After a time, I came to learn that
I was in a very non-localized parallel universe, where it was a few
years ahead in time as well; and that in this part of the hyperspace,
I was not Pee's father, only a friend of the family. A short while
later, I was invited, along with my mother, to a party at this
college, and we showed up, and it was suddenly two or maybe as much
as 3 or 4 days later, but no more. There were name tags near a table
where we were all supposed to sit down at, only they had not been put
up yet, and I remember asking how the seating arrangements were
supposed to be, and my mother made a mean nasty comment, and then
told me practically to sit down anywhere, and shut up. I was aware in
the self here dreaming through this hyperspace doppelganger-me, that
she had been making many very biting remarks at me throughout the
day, and I was growing quite angry about it. I remember turning to
her where she was sitting on a love seat next to a friend of hers who
also was sitting on another loveseat or small couch that was almost
but not quite the twin of the one my mother was on, and I chose any
old spot around this dinner table that was very large but not banquet
sized, and once I was seated, I turned to her, and looked right at
her, and said this exact thing to her, “Mom, do you have any idea
how much I would give if you just had picked one less time in your
life to have sex with my dad, precisely 53 years ago”. My mind
seemed to know, over there, that I had just turned age 52 years and 3
months of age, and since 9 months is the average human time for
making a baby, we all know what this very cutting counter remark of
mine to my mother, was all about. She then began to cry like a little
baby, and before she broke down, an expression of agonizing pain
came over her face that was inconceivable. Every facial muscle
involved in making a face displaying torture in either the mind or
the body, was transfixing her normal face into an almost hideous one,
contorted and twisted and wrinkled from the extreme emotional
heartbreak and excruciating painful emotions, that were obviously
surging through her entire beingness. She began balling loudly, and
sobbing in a totally unrelenting way; and I never saw anyone in my
entire life in all of my remembered experiences of all of my
hyperspace travels, ever cry this passionately, convulsively, and
lengthy. It just continued to go on and on and on and on. But let me
stop the description of this very unpleasant agonizing nightmare now,
and look at the two opposing time references. Originally, before the
party, I was in a place where my daughter had recently reached the
age of sixteen years, which takes place on September the 29th,
in 2014. But at the party, that she and her boyfriend had invited
both my mother and myself to, I remember distinctly being age 52
years and 3 months old, meaning it was early in March, in the year of
2008. This was the beginning of my 70-day off-line period, just
mentioned on my previous blog, SJ-CH-179, posted up yesterday about
20 minutes or so before the closing bell on Wall Street at 4 PM-EDST.
So first, I am in early 10th month in 2014, and then find
myself at this party, back in the first week in month 3, in 2008.
Both times are roughly 39 months away from the present, only first it
is ahead in time by this amount, and then it is backward in time by
this amount, leaving the present time dead set in the very middle of
all of this wild shit. I also came to learn that in this particular
universe, Pee never tried to kill the large African-American New
Jersey State Police Trooper who shot me dead in the back in another
parallel universe, when she would have been a small child of about 7
or 8 years, and was sentenced, and sent to the Egg Harbor, New
Jersey, 'Harborfields' Detention Center, on Route 561, a place
existing for a very long time, right here in this part of the
hyperspace; and this exact atomically matching universe in
hyperspace, and visited often by, and connected with and through;
many powerful New Jersey law enforcement persons, that all are
somehow connected with it, and all entangled with the many powers to
be, in Atlantic City, including the EX-Mayor Robert Levy, married to
Ethel Levy, whose distant cousin is a distant cousin to Mariah
Carey's paternal grandfathers 3rd cousin twice removed.
This is quite a distant family relation, yet always remember, this
world is asking a lot of me when they tell me to chalk up as a silly
coincidence, the 20 year recurring dream of this Egg Harbor School
for no apparent reason whatsoever, and named the same name as the
actual Suffolk County, New York, high school, where Mariah Carey,
graduated from, in 1987; and hopefully, after taking some very good
advice given to her by an older boy, my-my and gee-whiz-RGG, I wonder
who, © Examiners? People are asking me to buy into a lot more wild
coincidences than the television show called, “Law and Order”
ever expects their ADA's, and their prosecutors, to buy into; as how
many times is what I say here confirmed in that show, just in the
three personalities of ADA Serena Sutherland, ADA Abbey Carmichael,
and ADA and later turned top dog DA, MISTER Jack McCoy, himself, YO?
It really is not fair, but then world, Jim Burr said to me one day a
statement that I'll obviously take to my mother freaking grave, and
this being, “Mark, it isn't a fair world”, another 1983 footnote
to be 2011 inserted, into the Blogs of Mountainpen, BRAHHHH!!!!!!!
HA-HA-HA-HA-HA,
I HAVE BEEN FUCKING TRUMPED, RON WIRTZ, SENIOR. HE IS NOT GOING TO
CALL YOU ON THE PHONE, YO!!! Hey, maybe love really is for carpenters
and weird dreamers from 1980 lottery winning Cubans in Atlantic
mother fuckiGN City, YO!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
INSTRUCTIONS
FOR MILITUFORCE ENEMIES:
1----PLACE
100 POUND DUMBELL ROPE AROUND YOUR BODY AND TIE IT TIGHT.
2----WALK
DFOWN THE STAIRS BELOW AND KEEP RIGHT ON GOING.
3----HAVE
YOUR MOTHER, YOUR FATHER, AND ALL OF YOUR KIDS, DO THE VERY SAME
THING THAT YOU JUST DID.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015
©
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)
Wow
is there a dam dark shadow surrounding my life, since the doctor
smacked my ass, around half past nine on Saturday morning, at the
Bryn Mawr, PA, USA Hospital, on December 4, 1954.
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE!!!!!!!!!!
Wow
is there a dam dark shadow surrounding my life, since the doctor
smacked my ass, around half past nine on Saturday morning, at the
Bryn
Mawr, PA, USA Hospital,
on December
4, 1954.
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE!!!!!!!!!!
The
reason that I began talking about reversals and reflections is due to
many things, peeps. First, the truth shows up in mirrors and when
things go upside down. It is where the expression of 'shaking things
up' to get at truth really came from, but this is another somewhat
intentionally covered up piece of human reality. Hans Worshing was
the director of the Philadelphia Boys club, as it was called back in
1967, when I met the man. I had lived just a block away for eighteen
months, at 2041 Chestnut Street and did not know he was there. Only
after my mom tried to secure a 'big brother' for me, and I was given
the first of two dudes, Mister Fred Hinger, the head drummer of the
then Philly Philharmonic. They had a nice home in Cherry Hill, New
Jersey, and he and another pal of his who was a couple years older
than me, were being taught how to drum on drum pads. This dude's name
was Dominick. He was a very cool dude, as was sir Hans Worshing of
the Boys Club. Most of you who know a little bit about my two big
brothers from this organization, know mostly about the second dude,
Mister Colorado hailed from, John Henningsen, of the Campbell's Soup
Company, Camden, New Jersey Office. This was a cover, as he was a
major ESS traveler with the CIA. I know that now and did not have a
clue back then. But then all the alphabet soup agencies are owned by
the one absolute one, the ESS. Still, this is the kind of top secret
Majestic level purple and nine Ron Wirtz shit that gets folks killed.
But then, hay I am a dead man right now, who is going out like a
balloon losing its air, so what do I have to lose? John took me to a
secret building across from the City Line Philly studios, where
numerous television broadcasters are headquartered. Right across to
the east was the building John Henningsen took me too a few times
with the magic one way mirror rooms. Later I realized Campbell's Soup
had no reason for interrogation rooms, and he has to be ESS, or you
might go as far as say CIA or NSA, but as stated, these all fit
nicely into the one and only owner/controller, the great powerful ESS
(Exploratronic Supermind Society). John as you know gave me the great
magical chain, that a year later give or take, seemed to fascinate
the Almighty gamer-owner being of this entire gamogram-simulation
(cosmos), Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle. Also on the north side,
across from City Line Avenue, in this Bala Cynwyd section of
Philadelphia's main line suburban area; is my doctor I went to before
the great family sent me packing, in the middle of an icy cold
gods-forsaken night, off to fucking ass Florida; five and a half dam
ass years back into time now, YO! Oh boy oh oh boy, my mom comes to
me in a powerful dream to warn me not to move in with these
washcloths from hell, while still at Jenny Plageman's trailer park,
and then boom, clueless me is forever destroyed. Twenty years ago
today, Clueless Poolroy gave me three wild books from the Washington
Heights, New York Public Library. One of them shows a science
laboratory where Windows are displayed on a computer, long before the
windows-95 times ever came to be, as this was back around 1965.
Someday this entire time and hyperspace is going to blow up in all of
our faces, Mister Ron Wirtz, so 'purple and 9', to you too, YO!!!!
Not
only are mirrors, and things that reflect major; Mister 1969 Sidney
Mommyboyfriend Cohencrown Jewshame; but the real truths go so far
beyond any of this, that it would all rank right up there in the
purple
and nine area
of Ron Prosecutor ADA Wirtz of December 5, 1989, the day we met and
the day after I turned age 35 years, as Mark Wayne Mohr and his
crummy scummy miserable life. Holy WOW, KALI CLAN. Time for this poor
old bastard to go and wash up! Hey I'm all washed up anyway, right
folks? What did I tell you guys back in the summer of 1997, John and
Photeous, on 10-SC Avenue, on your parking lot that day, next to
WAYV's Paula King lot???????????????? And think about this one: I did
not consciously know or remember a thing about all of this now
existing Morianity! But I have indeed cycled around for 200 times
give or take, David Speas and Mister Corsakolf McCoy!!!
CALLIO'S—A&R--ASTRAL--FLOWER
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
Pageviews
today
|
72
|
Pageviews
yesterday
|
69
|
Pageviews
last month
|
2,485
|
Pageviews
all time history
|
93,974
|
No comments:
Post a Comment