CHAPTER 40-44, HELL IS FIXED IN STONE AND FIRE

HELL IS FIXED IN STONE AND FIRE, CH. 44

Do you remember the long talk we had on the telephone, back early in 1975; ''Mizz Hollister''? I remember it, and looking back on it, it now of course makes a ''dream'' in 2007 or 2008 somewhere, where the moon, and the maintenance men flashlights; were one and the same thing. You know; shiny strobe light things, that seem to be able to 'shift reality around'. I know I wish I had that tape, and yes, I was a real bad boy, Patty, and I taped the phone call, like Bob McDowell did with me and the calendar deal, and like Lenny McKinnon did with his weak dependable so-called 'bladder'!

People; you may wonder why I ever tried to take my 1995 Morianity and turn it into a blog. My only answer is that I had high hopes of ending a terrible and monstrous fucking curse on my life. I believed things that were told to me by two fine gentlemen, one young and one not so young, back in the middle twenty-ohs; Mister Christopher Bennett, and Mister Edward Himacane Lynch. According to them, I needed to tell my nightmare fucking story on the internet by doing something called, ''A BLOG'', and then; help would come marching fuckiGN in, like the First Calvary, and the First Infantry, all combined; led by darlings such as General Douglas MacArthur, and General George Patton. This of course totally failed to happen, and as the baby fucking doctors call it, this entire deal was a total failure to thrive!!! Yes I know the word pediatricians. I just felt like fucking saying, baby-doctors.

TITLED:

PERSONAL PHONE DIRECTORY.

ANYTHING THAT IS NOT FOUND HERE, SUCH AS PASSCODES, WOULD BE UP THERE, OR THEY MAY BE HERE,SO ALWAYS CHECK THEM BOTH!

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[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.	PAu001189027	1989

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Why would a blog that has one follower, Mister C.A., have a view-audience that travels the world continuously, causing the quick ever altering global viewer-chart in shade ratio of popularity by nation, to change quicker than the faces and phases of our lovely moon? For that matter, why would someone break open a fortune cookie and put a message in it one time, saying to me, and I will say this shortly, as RIGHT NOW, SHERIFF MASCARA; THEY FROZE UP MY COMPUTER, AND ALMOST CAUSED ME TO LOSE THIS BLOG. THE VERTICAL LINE STOPS THAT SHOWS WHERE I AM TYPING AND IT TOTALLY FREEZES, VIOLATING MY RIGHTS AS A CITIZEN OF THIS EVIL MOTHER FUCKING NATION, SHERIFF SIR, AND IN ALL HONESTY SIR, COULD YOU LOVE A COUNTRY THAT WAS PERSECUTING YOU AND YOUR FAMILY FOR DECADES AND FOREVER? I ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT, SO YOU CAN IGNORE ME, LIE TO ME, OR CHOOSE TO BE FRANK AND HONEST WITH YOURSELF SIR. EVERY MOTHER FUCKING TIME THAT THE DOW JONES IS FLYING UP, I AM NOT ALLOWED TO USE MY COMPUTER OR DO ONE THING; AS THESE GOVERNMENT FUCKING DIRT BALL HACKERS WILL HACK ME TO DEATH!!! THIS AND ONLY THIS, IS WHY I HATE THE MARKET TO GO UP. IF THEY WOULD STOP INJURING AND DESTROYING AND TOTALLY FUCKING UP MY INNOCENT PATHETIC LITTLE LIFE, SHERIFF SIR; I WOULD WISH THEM ONLY THE HAPPIEST, AND THE BEST; BUT I CURSE THESE MOTHER FUCKERS, FOR WHAT THEY ARE DOING TO ME; KIND SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have never been allowed to experience a real life since the day that I was mother fuckiGN cunt chewing born at half past nine in the clit huffing morning of four December, in 1954. You all only know a small smattering of my endless hell and even with that, you refuse to believe me or help me, whoever you all are out there. Chris and Eddie were totally mother fucking off base with that call about me blogging to obtain help. Yet those silly boys do a stupid ass thing like out in a fucking storm, down in Jupiter, and the whole mother fuckiGN world comes running and rushing to help them. I knew the first night that they were on the Astral-plane, but who would listen to me? One thing is for sure, Ed and Chris, guys; if this world was real and I had not died and gone to fuckiGN cunt dick licking total hell a very very very fuckiGN cunt long time ago, none of this shit from Patty right through now today, could be happening. This entire mother fuckiGN life of mine is proof of this, because it totally violated what in the fucking distant future in many parallel realities,. Is called, LAWTRONICS!!!!!!!

There are a zillion mother fuckiGN things that prove that I died and went to hell. All the times I died and didn't stay in a die-reality would start out the list on top, but plenty of fucking other shit follows, I promise you all, my good folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am going to just hit the printed play button on a play-list of literally thousands of fucking songs. This one is called, the Florida Tween Incident, or for short, just the FTI.

There was a knock at the door to my apartment at Highview, shortly after my mom and I moved into there for the second of two times. It was a giant policeman from the Williamstown PD. This is where the Morianity gets its often used expression of GWPO SYNDROME, or just GWPOS. It stands for the GIANT WILLIAMSTOWN POLICE OFFICER SYNDROME. GEE, LIKE DUH!!!!!!!!!!! LSS, he came to tell us that my mom's brother and wife had both passed away in some hospital down in Fort Lauderdale, where they had a home for many decades, and this was my Uncle John and my Aunt Rachael. Within a few weeks, my mother wanted me to go visit with my cousin, the son of these folks, cousin John-Stuart. For absolutely no reason that was reasonable, if I am allowed to be cute here; he treated me really bad when we always used to get along quite well, in the few times that we had interacted in past times, as we always had lived many states away from each other, and visits were rare. Some have perhaps wondered if I never thought about what I am about to say before, and you know what, it was only since this major death siege of last week was initiated on me, that I did for the first time, begin to mentally hammer out these following details. I beg you to listen carefully to what I will say and tell you next, and I won't cuss, so please just dam listen. To my mind, it proves beyond a doubt, when all other junk is also taken into consideration for decades abnd decades; that whoever is involved with me covertly and stealthfully all this time since school or my last year there; indeed can manipulate and control TIME ITSELF. Forget about the road trips to boston, Massachusetts and weird hotel heaters, and Phillies Baseball World Series propheicies, or being taken back to my high school also while at Highview-2, (my secoond of two stays at this apartment complex), and telling people around me that I came from 1997 when in fact, it was in 1968 that I was telling them this, and it was not true. It was 1996 that I had been sent back from, by the great mighty Mick-Nickkon! Here comes the fuckiGN hacking Bob FCC McDowell sir, with a WORD-DISAPPEARING-HACK; YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I NEED SOME FUCKING HELP IN HERE TODAY, KIND SHERIFF, KIND ATTORNEY GENERAL, AND KIND LOCAL PEEDEE, YO YO YO YO!!!!

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AUGUST 25, 2015,

TUESDAY AFTERNOON AT 1:25,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 93 DEGREES FNHT.

RANGE TODAY------(H-93/L-75).

WIND IS CALM WITH SMALL NORTH GUSTS.

HUMIDITY IS 56%, FEELING LIKE 105 DEGREES.

I'm back to having real bad fucking nightmares all night long again, ladies and gentlemen. Please don't leave me all alone here in this horrible place, LIGHTNING, when I need you the dam most, baby-girl!!!!!!!!!!!

Lovely Atlantic City, NJ-USA.

Now back on pernt with Florida and the FTI deal; mice kind folks. This isn't complicated, and if you want to keep saying Ima looney bird, then fine. I know and God knows, I am not! Also, I am not a quack, or the owner of any lake houses for that matter, peeps!

THE GAP AVALON BEACH CLUB OF FORT PIERCE:

Local CamsCool CamsCity CamsTraffic CamsMore Live Camera from Avalon Beach Club, Fort Pierce, FL Camera Animation Choose a duration: Today 30 Days* 365 Days* * Broadband connection recommended . .

ENEMIES HAVE DISABLED MY SPELL CHECKER!

Now if they, whoever they are, the Milituforce-TAWF being one of many potential and possible terms, labels, and names; went to the trouble of screwing up the relationship with my Florida cousin, back in 1994 shortly after moving into Apartment 2-D, Kent Drive, Highview, WILL-I AM-ST-OWN, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG; then no one out here is ever going to convince me that this wasn't done because THEY ALREADY KNEW ABOUT THE YEAR OF 2010 and my moving to Florida. If I had still been tight with my cousin John-Stuart; I could have gone straight there when I ran away from the TAWF, on that bitter icy cold mother fuckiGN night or early morning, in middle December of 2009!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still doubt that these jerk fucking off TAWF-M2F folks are not able to control/manipulate what we poor mortals call “TIME”, because I don't doubt this for a mother fuckign minute, New York time non-flashed, non Joe Berrios teransklations to flower-songs, or manor wings of morianity Astral mansions of Province-Olympia!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I booted out and back on, and now incorrect spellings show up again. This is twice in a couple days or so where this has happened to me, kind Sheriff mascara, and kind Pam Bondi, sir and ma'am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now all the way back in 1994, they did this to me with my Florida-cousin. I had nobody else to turn to and had to take a lot of mother fuckiGN bullshit that I wouldn't have had to take, if they did not pull this fuckiGN shit on me back in 1994, already knowing the future, my fucking cunt disastrous future that is, YO!!!!!!!!

But there is a hell of a lot more going on that proves all this shit, and of course, our future president knows this is all real and true, but then, he won't ever confess that, Ron Wirtz, ADA of Camden County of 1989, so WEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!! This is the year that a lot more than just THAT GWPOS incident occurred; YO FOLKS!!!!!!!! I joined Haddonwood on June 27 of that year. My bankruptcy from 1984 ended that year. I bought a brand new Satan-Saturn Automobile that year, laughing lovely Stephanie Miller Comic. And I sent my book to the great powerful awesome wonderful marvelous COPYRIGHT OFFICE; called, “THE PERMISSION BARRIER”. That was done on 31 October, AKA Halloween Day of non-permissions. I think my awesome fuckiGN kid figured all of this out long before I did, as soon thereafter when I left here to move into that fuckiGN monster ass death house at 112 Harvard Avenue in Somerdale, NJUSAESMWG, those lovely fruit juice television commercials all seemed to begin, really good tasting juices too! But I was still as clueless to all of this shit as my old pal Poolroy. Well, I am joking of course. Now I realize he was as clueless as a dam fox, and maybe a network. SHEEEEEEEEEIT, Daddy-Dawn, and forget any fucking changing delta's, and or mathematical equations!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAA. Those cramps given to me on Halloween Day in 2007, were so horrible; that if I was a normal human being, I would not be here right now, to tell this mother fuckiGN tale; Florida District Attorney's Office, and Attorney General of these United States of America!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! President Bearhugs cannot help me, and if you all remember, it was me on blogs from several years back, who told why. I told how when you get into office, you basically spend your entire presidential career just repaying favors, and guess who has been echoing these words on my older blogs, verbatim, but good old distant wonderful cousin Donnie-Boy!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And he is 100% telling it straight up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, I'd weelwee fucking love to know just why someone would intentionally slip that ridiculous message into my food bag, you know, that Chinese Fortune Cookie, months ago? Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy, golly gash darn gee wizz and gee men and women from the great FEDLANDS, do I wish I understood the crazy ways these mother fuckers operate. Do any of you know why they would send me a message that goes like,

“YOU WILL ATTRACT CULTURED AND ARTISTIC PEOPLE TO YOUR HOME”.

I suppose we would all make more sense out of just how the great I-CHING really works, or for that matter, global fucking stock market migraines!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Read in-between the lines folks; my cuzz has a message for all of us, and it is in the great Holy Words from his pals from mellenia ago, who ''already knew that all this would go down''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So just why did the middle nineteen-nineties happen and unfold for me the way that they did? Well, let me tell you a few things that just might honestly fuckiGN blow your mind; so be seated, or have nitro nearby, if you don't have a particularly strong heart; as I don't want to be responsible for anyone getting a fucking heart attack today while they read these words. I talk a lot about HSTS, and that is not a misprint error typo of my high school when abbreviated, and instead, stands for hyper-space towel-seepage. This is no joking fucking matter, and it is so real and has shown itself in my life so many times, that it amazes me I do not permanently have to wear a pair of great K-MART-DIAPERS, YO BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Some Einstein types out here already know I am about to tie in my WILD-DREAM while at Cifaloglio that dark night, where the maintenance people's flashlights and the moon above me here, were one and the same thing when dimensionally split between waking body space and dreaming body space. Those strobing flashlights were the very same thing that my daughter had in her house, in that altered state that I was in, and when she was just a small toddler. This has been discussed before, and matters not one single iota if you believe me or not. Still, the conversation with Mom's coworker and friend Patty fits into this, as parts of conversations with her, with a man named Frank Lombardo, with my ex-pal Jim Burr, and with a federal agency in the DOJ/in-port-export department will stay permanently mother fucking etched in my human physical waking consciousness forever and forever and forever, and IPYT, ladies and gentlemen out here reading these dam ass words, and this was 41 dam ass years ago; to me however, this was piss ago!!!!!!!!

I was still visiting my Cooley Hall pal, Bruce Allan Pennock at 2 Beaver Drive, over in Barrington, MJ-USA-ESMWG in these days of 1975, and in fact I was still his friend right into the early part of 1978, while living in that mafioso house owned by Tony Crissafulli, at the Cherrywood Estates in Blackwood, New Jersey, on Hillcrest Avenue. No Einstein is needed to know that a lot of shit is all connected up with all of these people in ways that these blogs have touched on here and there for a solid fucking ass decade now; kind lads and lassies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But it was this conversation where I told Patty about how I was able to record telephone tones and play them back into the telephone through amps, and I would get strange government men answering and demanding to know who I was and what I was doing. I had no clue this was illegal. She told me that they are going to frame me for a crime soon, if I keep messing with tape recorders, and that she was not able to tell me more. However, she did ask me if I remembered certain words, and I only remember now, going blank after she said them. They were post hypnotic suggestions. But the tape I was recording her on showed that she wanted to make sure I had forgotten a very powerful day from six years back. She even asked me if I knew how the company was operating with certain names, and then she named them. Each time I played the tape however, I went into another post hypnotic suggestion, and this really screwed up a long part of my life, without Patty even knowing that this happened, or did she, Bob FCC McDowell, and Dan Trivial-songs Mackey? This crime I was going to be framed for was as follows. Someone from the great city, not SDKI, we are talking human here, Doggie-Yancy; sent for a horrible child pornography movie or some similar nightmare shit thing, from Sweden, and it came to a port near Jamaica or Staten somewhere. I was then contacted by this Federal Agency and told I was in lots of trouble. I never shared this with my mother. I knew I had done nothing wrong, and that I had not sent away for any filthy fuckiGN disgusting shit like this, and I told the fucking federal agent to throw it in the dam ocean. But I knew Patty and her peeps were all involved, and to this day, Steve tried to help me remember a lot of this, and he paid for it, in my humble opinion of course; with his dam ass pitiful life. I have no way to prove shit. When the Donald does shit to me, it is the same thing, and Ron Wirtz up at the Prosecutor's Office knows or knew all of this only too fuckiGN well, from later in 1989 through about 1996 when he broke off contact with me with a pack of lies about retiring.

I won't cry for poor chanting Steve, and neither should you, people. Don't cry for Argentina, Amy the arm breaker, or anyone else up at Worm Fucking Hole Cooley Hall. All I know is that when shit like what went down there, goes down; normal people lose their mother fuckiGN mind forever. I was supposed to do just that. I was supposed to ''stay crazy''. This was told to me in a powerful stealthy message, from the mighty powerful fucking Mary Tyler Moore Network, of those middle great nineteen-nineties; huh time traveling Sergeant Pepper Sarah Callio Slut???

END TRANSMISSION.

CHAPTER 41-42-43/A-B-C

HELL IS FIXED IN STONE AND FIRE

This is quite true, it is fixed all right. And on top of that, something is crystal clear to me that was not when I was younger. “THEY'RE IN YOUR HEAD”, and “YOU AND THEM ARE THE SAME THIN”. THIS is what creates the conscious to unconscious barrier that to this day is still grossly misunderstood by the greatest psychiatrists of the world. They get into a lot of heads all over the world. I have managed to talk myself into a possibility but there is no guarantee I am right, calling them the ESS. I may be as clueless as fucking Poolroy-95, and this may something entirely different, but I am on the right track with this, folks, I promise you! They are in a lot of heads. Mine, yours, the whole nine yards, computers, even the heads of the hackers. When I came up the first time to start this short blog, I noticed immediately that my Spell-Checker system, in my Open-Office Program, had been disabled.

Still people, without people being influenced in totally stealthy ways or not, stuff does happen naturally and totally independent of what my story of ten years now, discusses in such a great length, with long drawn out specifics of numerous possible explanations to age old unsolved mysteries of humankind and Planet Earth. Right about now a lot of folks are wondering if AFTER-MORIANITY is about to spring some real huge and brand new stuff on you all out here. Maybe and maybe not, we will see, but for right now, suppose we go with this: Several months ago I left my Vero Beach, Florida, USA Psych Place, and drove home, stopping at the same place that I did back last Wednesday, and went to a Chinese Restaurant for a take-out. Only once was a fortune cookie put into my bag, and it had nothing to do with the size of my order, as that was a relatively small order when the cookie came with it, and since then, I have ordered a lot more, yet only that one time, did a 'cookie' come along for the ride, 'disabled' or not huh Firefox. Folks, I have nothing against anybody on this planet or off of it somewhere for that matter, not a blessed or cursed thing, I assure you. All my blogs ever have attempted to do, is to tell what has been done to me, in a very unfair and monstrous-mean way, for just about my entire life, if NOT MY ENTIRE LIFE, spanning nearly 61 years now, as Mark Wayne Mohr.

I fully know that a few people out here think that I am going to do something beyond Earth-shaking such as print the lottery number for the Powerball Jackpot along with dates and the exact prize pay outs, or maybe tell you the details of some wild political, financial, or other global issues. Not only won't I do this, but it wouldn't matter if I did. Only really enlightened 'souls' understand that sentence in full detail. Trying to further elucidate upon it would be a waste of your time, and my time.

I am spending a lot of time in parallel universes recently, where I live here in this building, and interact with many unpleasant people, not that I don't do that right here in this universe, but it gets crazier over there. Last night was not an exception. I was in my next lifetime, and my name was Jo-Jo. Trump was in it and was about to turn 100 years old, and somehow knew that I was still me, the me-now, that is. He came over and insisted on telling me why I was living here in that universe, and not in Atlantic City, and I kept telling him I could care less, and he would chuckle and do that cool thing with his arms that makes Mister Trump, Mister Trump. I am unable to blog it all, but I will say that I totally believe that he not only knows about this right here and now, BUTTTTTTTT, he also knows a few other things, and that is all I am going to say. Why I was living here in my next lifetime in that other parallel-reality is also way too complicated, as well as dangerous, for me to attempt to blog, at least right now. I do know that he couldn't stop laughing, even at age 100, when he saw something in my apartment, on my wall. Now over here in present life, I have absolutely nothing on my walls, they are all bare, and I am not a member of the Rose Jacobey Annoyers Association/Club of Williamstown-Highview. I will tell you what this was on my wall. It was the instructions in full detail, to operate the mighty secret FASCITAR-6-10. I suppose I am the only person alive, who has ever seen a 100 year old man totally crack up with raucous laughter. It was in all honesty, quite a sight to freaking behold, lads and lassies.

Now forgetting cookies of all types, weird paranormal activity, hyperspace and parallel realities, and all OZ-CURTAINS everywhere, for a moment or so; let me talk around a few things and be careful, all Paula's, so heads don't go rolling; oh great kisser Queen. Don't murder me James Bond, please. So back on Bunker Queens pernt here folks; what I say to people, and in various situations as well, seems to have major effects on this simulation system, owned by the Almighty teen-goddess, SSJKK! Even though I did not tell intimate details or name any names, at my councilor's office at the psych place, back five days ago, it seems to have had some pretty coincidence defying effects on Planet Earth. However, I believe fully and whole heartedly, that there is more to this than just me going there last Wednesday, discussing for three minutes a repressed memory I was carrying around from '72 through '08, and then all hell breaking loose around me after I left to come home. Way way way more, but just exactly what? Well, this indeed will be delved into and explored as more blogs come. As for right now, I clearly remember being stopped from being able to blog when I was doing it from the library, back in the summer of 2010 at Fort Pierce, while living up in the hood, at Avenue e and 26^th Street; and then that was followed by big stock market action. Then we compare the recent cookie disabling with Firefox Browser and Google-Blogger Web-site, and then big market action the other way now, when this did not prevent me from blogging, and shutting me down successfully, as miraculously, I had my old browser still up there which also had been disabled, only somehow Norton had repaired it after a year or so, all by itself. But there is a lot more. However, it is part of the nightmare last night, with Cuzz Donnie Boy, in the future as well as in a parallel world of course, as is the case with all of our ''dreaming-interactions''. I am getting another DEATH-ANGER attack on my right side, at 8:12 PM, as I type and speak, and now it is going away. There are complicated dreams inside of dreams and memories inside of memories that would take me a long time to properly explain and address, but to build an amateur's foundation to this; I will say only this following item. A person suddenly remembers a dream as they go through their waking day because something is triggering the memory to come out of deeper consciousness when that trigger is suddenly exposed. I don't care if it is a blue sports car driving by playing the old silly song from 1973 called, Shidaleedee, or whatever it might be; it is the dream and the memory that needs to be surfaced, that is causing the car to go by playing the song. You may say on the face of it that this would involve complexity that no one could ever manage to be in any way in control of. You would be correct. But computers can be lightning fast and a powerful enough one is indeed capable of doing extremely intricate and complex steps in a very short period of time, all by knowing that zero means no voltage and one means there is a voltage. The greatest machines out there to be bought by ordinary people and wealthy folks alike, are still not in any way, including any meaningful artificial intelligence. To think, a machine needs to be so powerful and so fast in knowing zero and one reality, that we are a long way off even still, from having this. For anyone not living through my life, to be able to read this ten year long blog project (Morianity), and put my life into real meaningful perspective; they would have to be an Einstein. I accept that truth, yet on I go, telling this powerful story that seemingly only ends, when I do, as present-me. Now a lot of things never end for anyone, and for that matter, they don't really begin, but merely fit into an illusion, that seemingly makes this appear as reality. With me, not all things connect into Sarah, and my search to find her indeed brought Morianity into being, or so one might think. It, like all things, is extremely complicated; and nothing ever is truly what it seems to be. It began when George Belton first took me to Resorts Casino in Atlantic City, and introduced me to casino-roulette playing. From there things were down hill all the way, leading to my first trip to Florida one year after George first began doing this in December of 1982, during my final months at 1802 Robin Farm-Outside-of-Future-Haddonfield Hill Apartments, in Voorhees, New Jersey. The mysterious Warwick Auto Sales, owned by the even more mysterious Mister Everett Simpson, well, this is a story that could go on for 1000 Moby Dick sized books, and I don't plan on boring you. I call this the end of 82 set up that led to the land of mystery, or for short, the EO1982SUTLTTLOM, my own little coded alpha-numeric private, and one of so very many; headings to outlined stories for future postings, when things are more in the swing for telling the world about these things, one by one. I can say without a question, that even beyond my choking condition that lasted for life, and my nightmare crossover into hell in 1986 from some weird strange ''dreaming'', that these two events, huge as they are; both are simply existing inside of this even larger truth, and that being, this early December of 1982 situation at this auto repair garage place near the intersection of the White Horse Pike and Warwick road, in Magnolia, New Jersey; and just a little over a mile away from Robin Hill Apartments Complex; and I knew this all along, but when it came to doing blogs, I never actually made it appear this way, focusing much more on the two large incidents that followed my becoming connected with these people there, the owner Mister Simpson, and then his two side kicks, Herby Letts, and George Belton. Herby worked for Simpson, while George was the weird 'hang-around' guy, and had no connections with the place. I was there to purchase a vehicle to allow me to get the money I needed to leave that horrible Debbie Harry and her friend and their horrific loud weekend parties, and move out of there and into Atco, New Jersey. So I needed to take my nicer vehicle, and trade down on it, so that I could put the needed moving cash into my pocket, and this is exactly what I did back then, and how these folks and I all managed to cross paths, Mister Redfield. There is some real loud hallway yelling at 7:26, suppose the fawces of Mister Hall do not want me talking about Everett Simpson, the man of mysteries. You only know a tiny smattering of things that could have landed me in prison, there is a lot to this powerful story, most will not be talked about for reasons of my obvious safety, both from highly dangerous people, and even, problems with the law which I certainly do not need, despite the statues of limitation, I believe, running out on what was done, but in case certain tings such as murder do not ever run out, and no, there was no murder; still, I am not sure what is covered in this cold period, so I am keeping quiet.

Not even two years after I met these creepy weird people, it was spring time somewhere in 1984, and Trump was going to open his casino called the PLAZA, his very first one, in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Why I could not tell you in a million years, but I wanted to go down on opening day, and began to drive from my residence to the casino in Atlantic City. I was living right back at the Robin Hill allover again, for my second out of three total stays in this hellish nightmare place, other than for my first 14-24 months there in 1980 and most of 1981 when that mysterious incident happened that I blogged several times about, where magically, that evil Playboy bunny just popped up out of the blue one night, right after somebody heard me tell my mom in that bugged apartment, that I was going to have my friend Jim Burr look at the place downstairs as he is interested in renting it. It was all fake, I had handed her a note to read, telling her to just play along and I then winked at her, and then I went off to work, and when I came back for the river at the Mac Andrews and Forbes Plant where I did security guard work there, a light was on in the apartment,and she had moved in just in those hours while I was working. But this is old news, and we are on the exploratron subject recently, and need to discuss what pertains most to this, not that she and her friends were not also, host bodies to inter-dimensional exploratrons coming awake in them from their controlled dreams in their own parallel universes. Still I am more interested in discussing another person who I know had an exploratron inside of him, the young dude gasoline station owner in Hammonton, New Jersey, named Jerry, back in 1984. My mother told me he has to be on drugs, but looking back, NO HE DIDN'T HAVE TO BE ON DRUGS. Many weird acting folks are, maybe the majority of them are; but some of them, ladies and gentlemen, are not. Instead they are what in the old days would be called ''possessed''. They are what in the new age Ufology days would be called controlled abductees. Neither of these things are real, but what is happening is very real. THEY HAVE AN ACTIVE TYPE-2-EXPLORATRON INSIDE OF THEM, asleep in their universe, and over here in ours, they have taken control over the person, and can do all sorts of stuff to many innocent people, by using these basic sleep walkers as pawns and tools and puppets and yes I'll say it, AS WEAPONS! Another possibility for why people suddenly go and shoot up malls and schools and work places, and you name it. This Jerry made my life, and the life of my poor mom, a total hell. He was being controlled by my cousin Donald. First, on the way down to his hotel and casino, somehow, he had my car blow up, and I barely made it to this gasoline station, the one in Hammonton, owned by this Jerry character. This all was totally planned out millions of years ago. He ended up putting a new engine in the vehicle, a total joke, as the car was 10 times worse when the job was done, than before; and twice, my mom and I went to pick it up, and ended up taking the bus down to his station, breaking down 2 blocks away or less, and waiting for a bus right back home again. He had us literally going out of our minds, and the entire state was in on all of our miseries, as just from watching shows on TV like Judge Judy, I know that these repeating incidents that happened to us for 20 plus years back in Jersey, just does not happen and that innocent folks who get totally scammed and ripped off do have some legal recourse, yet each time we tried talking to anyone about getting any, we were just fucked and fucked and fucked, all the more. If you live in Jersey, have big name enemies, and have no one in your corner to fight for you such as a politician or three in your pocket, you might as well dig a hole and jump in, or move the hell far away, as did fucking cunt eating I, back in December of 'OHM-9'.

This Jerry character was literally, over a period of 10 weeks or so, making my life and the life of my mother, a living burning nightmare fucking hell, and no one anywhere would or could seem to help us against this horrible fucking sick young monster, who held the power of life and death, literally over our heads, and was actually torturing us and our pathetic lives in ways inconceivable. Everyone needs a car, and he was keeping us from having ours. And this all started, because I wanted to go down to TRUMPS NEW HOTEL CASINO in springtime 1984. Where is Yogi Berra and his non belief in coincidences, when you truly need him, Mister Voicemail Walmart, sir??? Now this was all right after I had met and interacted with the throat specialist in northeast Philadelphia, and his magical lovely young lab-tech assistant. He seemed to do the very same thing with her, up in the future by 20 years give or take, that he did only a few years away with Donna Summer, naming his ugly harbor tub, the PRINCESS, right after I copyrighted my EPITOME OF HARASSMENT PROJECTS, really the first one in 1988, misspelled on the copyright forms, and is why the words 'sic' appear on the title block on these forms that I now will re-post so that you can all see; which stands for Spelled In-Correctly. When patters continue to reflect a repeating item of anything is happening, the odds increase exponentially, that it is all just up in someone's mind or just a big ass fucking coincidence. One time, that's one thing, but then there came Mister Macy. Now at this point of things, I was at Jenny's Park and living a hermits life, not yet blogging on the net, as I had yet to meet Chris Bennett, who started all of this by telling me that maybe I need to do this to tell my story. But my real point on all of this is that all this time I had no clue how this was all done, or even a clue as to why. Now with the ESS, it all comes together so incredibly, that to quote the CCR Band of the sixties, I can feel this thing's fucking disease. And no, Jane and her weeds are not the only disease in town, not with all of this shit for the past 30-60 mother fucking years, great folks!!!!!!!!!!!

I USE THE © OFFICE AS A TIME CAPSULE!

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Public Catalog Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

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#	Name (NALL) <	Full Title	Copyright Number	Date
[ 1 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	For the record.	PAu000662409	1984
[ 2 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	I'm Criana.	PAu000724397	1985
[ 3 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.	PAu003351785	2007
[ 4 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Last number repeat--100 progression roulette system.	TXu000514390	1992
[ 5 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Lost love.	PAu000344219	1981
[ 6 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection, set 4.	PAu000546149	1983
[ 7 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection : set III.	PAu000442785	1982
[ 8 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo tunes.	PAu000325091	1981
[ 9 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr tunes.	PAu000411864	1982
[ 10 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Queen of blue.	PAu000825471	1986
[ 11 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Real good girl.	PAu000881543	1986
[ 12 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Russ Walker's Star travelers of 1896-SJK.	PAu002506106	2000
[ 13 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Saga of song writer Mark Mud.	PAu000501582	1983
[ 14 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	PAu002153196	1996
[ 15 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	SRu000332786	1996
[ 16 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah Callio of ACNJ.	SRu000362114	1997
[ 17 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Uncle.	PAu000540585	1983
[ 18 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	What's wrong?	PAu000724407	1984
[ 19 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	You call this music?	PAu000998574	1987
[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.	PAu001189027	1989
[ 22 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Long river blues / by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204017	1980
[ 23 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Love so high / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204015	1980
[ 24 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morianity music pre-book.	PAu002336935	1998
[ 25 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morianity tunes of 1998.	PAu002282717	1998

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Search for: Search by: Title (omit initial article A, An, The, El, La, Das etc.) Name (Crichton Michael; Walt Disney Company) Keyword Registration Number (for VAu 598-675 type vau000598675) Document Number (for V2606 P87 type v2606p087) Command Keyword Item type: None Recorded Documents Text Serials Music Maps Sound Recordings Computer Files Motion Pictures Visual Materials Kits Mask Works Deposit only monographs Deposit only serials Cancelled Registrations

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Public Catalog Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 26 through 28 of 28 entries.

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Resort results by: Full Title Name Date (ascending) Date (descending)

#	Name (NALL) <	Full Title	Copyright Number	Date
[ 26 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204016	1980
[ 27 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Same title.	PAu003037983	2005
[ 28 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Thanx to the shadows.	PAu002237985	1997

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Why do I use the Copyright Office as a time capsule? Why do I endlessly look at series of ONE-NUMBERS, when I try so hard to avoid them? How did all this get started? Why ever since high school, am I inside of some wild unfathomable hell? As I said in my 1984 song, “Y JIMMY Y, YYYYYYYYYY?????????????????????? Well, there are some answers, and poor Steve, now the late Steve, had them, or some of them. Why did I see the homeless bicycle man so many times after I saw him originally up there near the area depicted by the Avalon Beach Club Cam? YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?????????? Yes folks, Steve had some powerful answers. He was going to tell me a lot more, but good old Patty-Paula, stopped him, at least IMHO. Still, I will love my baby mama forever, in my own warped ass way I suppose, dear world. When John King put those dogs up on the roof of his radio station, WAYV-Atlantic City, the family was sending me a very powerful message, but in truth, no more powerful than Mister Inductotherm and his 500,000,000 dollar message, over at the eternal life machine college, once formerly non chemtrail known as the Glassboro State College of New Jersey, USA. If I do ever go back in time, Donald ol' Cuzz; it won't be to bring my teen daughter to the future, I promise you sir. It will be to do other things, huh Mister Ernest Merker of the Erie Tracks of Pennsy????????

Here are a few grains of spiritual food to chew on. First off, no blog could ever hope to adequately describe my life, not in its supernatural reality, its horror, or its unfathomable qualities that make anyone say it is all a balloon hoax from a total crazy nut job. Admitting this to myself is merely accepting reality. This makes an old coworker and semi-pal of mine from half a dozen years or so ago, very happy!

© MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015

© BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)

Right about now, it would take a million of these beautiful places and a billion years spent there in peace and solitude, to make up for what has been don e to me for over 8,000 years. That is just reality; Sally Starr, and Paul Pedersen!

And please; don't let the mighty Washcloth-TAWF clan, lock me up in either one of these horrible secret locations. 'JOJO' my hoho-asshoe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

DANGER, DANGER, DANGER,

My mother used to say this back in 1973 and for several years after that. Shortly afterward, along came the great Incredible Hulk TV SHOW, and don't tell me that someone has not been listening in to my private life ever since the sixties, just please, OK? But let's speak a little while about physical verses astral planes of existence, my mother, and food; because a major situation is all tied into this and has been all throughout infinity. My teacher, Mildred B. Young from Cooley Hall, told me in 1972, that I need to watch out for my mother or she will dominate and control the rest of my life. In a strange way not bloggable, this all happened, as if she was the biggest prophet since biblical Daniel; but a lot more than this is happening here. Remember that right after I was not in this Cooley Hall place with Misses Young and Mister Mackey, I was in the Professional Careers Institute in Cherry Hill, NJ-USA, studying Computer Programming,at the 1-Cherry Hill Building, in the Cherry Hill Mall. This is where I met the great and powerful Mister James Tiberius Burr. There are no coincidences when this much powerful shit was all going down around me. Only because of the great triangulated wormhole system of Atlantic City, Camden, and Haddonfield; could this all have been done to me. They have to have a major source of unfathomable inconceivable power to pull off all these fuckiGN tricks, all this time. A moron can fucking see that much.

AUGUST 24, 2015,

MONDAY NIGHT AT 9:00,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 85 DEGREES FNHT.

RANGE TODAY-----(H-92/L-73).

HUMIDITY IS 70%, FEELING LIKE 95 DEGREES.

WIND IS ESE AT 10, WITH GUSTS TO 11.

Only because of this, can I make the claim as follows: I have knowledge not readily accessible to any other mortal, because I visit with regularity, whether any of you chooses to believe my words or not, the great Purgatory, and I know all of the powerful Astral Gods!!!! I no longer believe you were just Polio-Ziggy, old pal. Not after Patty, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just love this wonderful life and wonderful world, Mister and Misses King and Queen of all sarcasm and facetious behavior!!!! Yes sir and ma'am; Youtube is just the internet network, or we might see it as the fourth American network. When I called Google on several occasions, about trying to bring traffic to any of my stuff, blogs, Youtube posts, etcetera; they only screwed with me, and would not allow me to join this system; which is a blatant violation of my First Amendment Rights under the U.S. Constitution, to free fucking cunt speech!!!!

The great Victoria Callio and the great Callio family; perrrr-fect together, huh Homeland Security Ex-Chief Mister Tom Kean, kind sir? And I promise all the horrible hunters of the world that I sure ain't lion!!!! Even McGuire and my long dead Cousin Arthur. JEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE; Detective Fontanna, sir! These mother fuckers just tried to freeze me and crash my program, the minute I ever say fucking Hotel-Mascara-BOO-2010 about these nightmare horrendous demonic fucking cunt CALLIO PEOPLE, YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WO & WOW!!!!

Well, I managed to get through another 0808, oh great ancestor-cousin of mine, from the triple murder suicide of Braintree-Mass-USA, Mister HH88HH88 Herbert Huntington's son, my mom's Uncle Arthur. No phony Uncle Arthurs, Elizabeth Montgomery ma'am, the real Uncle Arthur, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE WEATHER BUG (TWB) This map and legend is shared on the BOM.

Advisory Colors Key Severe Thunderstorm Warning Tornado Warning WeatherBug Dangerous Thunderstorm Alert Severe Thunderstorm Watch - Box Tornado Watch - Box Flood Warning Flood Watch Non-Precipitation Advisory Severe Weather Statement Flood Statement Marine Warning Note: The image above may not reflect the current alert state for your county due to a several minute delay between the issuance of the alert and the map processing.

CHAPTERS 41-42-43

HELL IS FIXED IN STONE AND FIRE

NOW A SMALL LEFT SIDE DEATH ANGEL IS STRIKING ME. WEEEEEEE, ''AIN'T LIFE GRAND AND SWIFT''; TO QUOTE MY OLD LATENGRATE PAL, MISTER D.C. ROTH?????????????????

ALL SAVANTS, YO; THE END!