© BOM-----2006-2015

© 'HIFISAF'---AMP---1995-2015

HELL IS FIXED IN STONE AND FIRE

CHAPTER 116

© Mark Wayne Mohr (BOM) 2006-2015

MORIANITY, AND AMP

I WILL TAKE YOU TO ENDLESS WATERFALLS; DIANA!

WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW, AND WO, BILLY HARNER, Here comes the SPACE-JUMP-HACK with the mouse; oh kind Federal Communications Commission!!!! As soon as these mother fucking jerk off bastard scum bag bottom feeding lick liking shits did that hack to me, Bob McDowell, this is where the shit began to fuck up with the printing being all weird and out of proper color contrast to the highlight and background. I saw it on the blog after I pasted and before I posted, and corrected it as best I could using the controls at the Blogger site directly. I do not have time to do this each time, and then they illegally hack my blogs to make me look like a mother fuckiGN stupid moron retard, and then people won't read my blog or hear my powerful important messages. Doctor Bruce Goldberg, a famous book author from the nineties, discusses MAKING PEOPLE LOOK LIKE A NUT, and in fact, je devotes an entire chapter in one of his great books, to just this topic. Get his book, YO. It's called, “TIME TRAVELERS FROM OUR FUTURE”!!!!!!!!!! Do yourselves a huge mother fucking favor here. Get it online or at the mall at any RL book store, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am mailing my letter to the FCC about my hacks, my piss poor utility service in Florida, and the football canceling out my Saturday news on all three mother fucking networks, in Monday morning's mail, when I go to Doctor Roberts. This is total mother fucking war, lads and lassies out here, YO BRO!

SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT! Oh Jesus Christ Almighty, YO, no Stacey for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Only other Kennedy's, and nightmare songs, that I would fucking sing to myself, every fucking rotten ass time I had to drive past that cunt chewing fucking 'MOUNT CONSTRUCTION COMPANY', the gods; what a poor slob I am, earring Joan-95, split pants and brake dance, and all of it. YUK.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy, Mom and Mashell Daniels!!!!

Above you will find yours truly, and on my right side is the lovely and awesome Attorney General of Florida, Mizz Pam Bondi, beyond red hot!!!!!! On my left side, is the great and powerful non-OZ-wizard, Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara, of Saint Lucie County, here in Florida, USA. So WEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In all mother fuckiGN honesty and truth, ladies and gentlemen; it is as if some powerful fuckiGN god out there in cosmos; is beaming me a cloud of negative energy, that is sucking my life right out of me; body, mind, spirit, and Robert Andrews Whatever, RAW!!!!

Being all right, in Donna's morning light:

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I really don't give six frog jumping fucks about anything any more. Not after 46 years of PEE-PEE Senior and her Star-Trek-TNG-'Q' tricks. This is more annoying than pissing a fucking quart of Strongbow Cider at midnight, in the fucking bed, and being chained up.

A nuclear family of Monarch Butterflies:

Plus more than eight and Kate, and songs about poverty, stolen.

Sarah and her stinking water company.

AFTER I SAID HOW SICK I WAS, BACK LAST FRIDAY, and nearly died up in Vero Beach, according to the 'nut-job place' there, that I go to; in order to get a tiny tiny tiny little bit of my necessary anti-anxiety medications; notice Sheriff Mascara sir, please; how the Milituforce gave me a really horrific week. In other words kind sir; this should prove to you, THAT I AM INDEED DEALING WITH MONSTERS WHO ARE INDEED TRYING TO COVERLTY CLEVERLY MURDER ME. Now sir, whether you wish to believe any of this, deep down in your own mind, or not; just as the other Law Officer up in Jersey, and back in 1994, preferred denying reality, that led to my blogs, and Morianity, labeling this syndrome, as the ''GWPOS'', for the Giant Williamstown Police Officer Syndrome. This officer was about six feet eight inches tall, if I had to venture a dam guess; kind sir! Still, all of this should prove to you, like it or not, kind sir; that I am no crackpot, when I claim these 'wonderful lovely people', are playing for keeps with me, and have been, ever since 08/15/1986. This whole entire mess is nothing less than ATTEMPTED MURDER!!!!! Yes, I am going to tell something huger than shit very soon, over this weekend; so please be out here an dreading me, kind Sheriff, and kind AG-Bondi. Thank you!

Well, back at Haddon Township High School, in Westmont, New Jersey; my algebra teacher, Mister Smolsky, wrote the following, into my year book. “Mark, life is a mathematical formula. You get back in return, whatever you put in”. He is absolutely half right. This is totally and absolutely true for many people. However, a few are not connected into this cosmic formula the way most of us are. I think some of the more enlightened amongst the crowd out there, knows by now, that the mighty mover Fascitar-Patty-Paula Onelaw from 1974, is behind most, if not all of this. She sure knows an awful lot of secret bullshit, and has turned my life, to quote the mighty and wonderful Diana Ross, inside out and upside down!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE.

No pirate jokes from Gloucester City, please. In return, I won't yell out, “Shark, shark, shark” oh wonderful 1968 Aunt Ruth of 175 Peninsula Drive, up in the north country. WEEEEEEEEEE!!!

There in my non bookin dot com buckin hat, lady. Where has mother fucking 40 years gone to for goddess dam crissake, YO???????????????? Ziggy---Ziggy hello---”go home go home”. Well if had gone home, not much would have altered. But if I had listened to Mister Dangerfield that day on the phone when my pal Brad was in the shitter over at his apartment; that would have significantly altered this entire universe. Watch out for those bum drunkards you Fazer out of existence, McCoy. You may never really know how time-lines can alter, even with us rotten stinky bums, in or out of all cities on all edges of forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All venetian blinds of Sarah Krassle, be damned in frozen hellfire, huh Mizz Benitar? Boy give me a dollar for all the Patty's, and I would have a brand new home and car all paid friggin' for. Well, this was a long time ago in anyone's ideas, so the names of girls were not all filled with Tenesha and Keisha and Alisha, and you get the idea. Butttttttttttttt; how does Cooley Hall fit into the other two major areas of my major traveling nocturnal interactions of Atlantic City, and Camden, up there in good old New Jersey, USA????????? Well folks, let me tell you a little bit. And I promise you all this much; loving me' ol' flowers has nothing whatsoever to do with any of this horse-shit, despite the reality that there will always be many times more horses asses, than there are horses.

Where the hell is any help in this nation, when people need it? It so totally amazes me just how fucked up this system is, and how the entire world laughs at America. Ever wonder how on one hand, we can be the most powerful nuke nation on this planet; yet so we remain so totally fucking impotent, on just about anything, and everything dam else??? It is the quintessential fucking conundrum of anybody's dam philosophy. Am I really so sick, or so wrong, Sheriff, sir?

Thank you for reading Morianity kind people. Hay, I may be a crazy lunatic; I merely can prove to you mathematically, what the odds are, that this is not what is true, verses what I feel is true; and I would gladly at any time be willing, if I could trust the fuckiGN source of it; to have all of these things tested mathematically, and in any dam laboratory scientifically!!!!

A LOT OF SECRETS THAT WILL VINDICATE MY MURDER, WILL COME OUT, UNLESS THEY CAN GET TO THE COPYRIGHT OFFICE, AND DESTROY MY COPYRIGHTED BOOK ON TAPE, FROM 1994, “THE PERMISSION BARRIER”. IT TALKS ABOUT A LOT OF THINGS THAT WERE DIRECTLY TAKEN FROM ME AFTERWARD, FROM EXIM RATIOS TO FLYING CONCERTS TO SUPERGIRL SARAH KRASSE'S, TO MAGICAL LAB-TECHNICIANS. LAST NIGHT, PEOPLE; I WAS BACK AT THE RPL STUDIO, IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE; WHERE THE GAP MIZZ JESSICA GRANT WAS MY BOSS. IT WAS ABOUT 7:55 IN THE MORNING. DON'T ASK ME WHICH MORNING, OR FOR THAT MATTER, PAULA UWICH; DON'T EVEN ASK ME WITCH MORNING. STILL; A LOT OF THINGS ARE GOING ON SHERIFF, AND IF YOU STAND BACK, AND ALLOW MY MURDER SIR, WELL; IS THAT NOT A FORM OF COMPLICITY, KIND SIR? I'M JUST ASKING!!!!

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Ever since August 15, 1986, things for me went somewhere between The Twilight Zone, and eternal HELL!!!!!!!!!

Good old 1802 Robin Hill Apartments!!!!!

Robin Hill Apartments - Voorhees, New Jersey 08043

© BLOGGER MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015

My chocking condition as you know came on me suddenly at 10:30 Post Meridian, the night of 4 June, in 1983, while I was residing in a rental split level home on Norris Avenue, in Atco, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG. Because these mother fuckers insist on legally committing murder and killing me by taking away my medications, Mizz Bondi, Attorney General; MAJOR SECRETS WILL ALL COME OUT, FIRST TO THE DEPARTMENT OF VITAL STATISTICS, THEN I AM HEADING TO THE NYU BEFORE THEY CAN KILL ME, AND BRING A LOT OF PROOF OF WHAT COUSIN DONALD SUSPECTED ABOUT ME ALL ALONG, THAT I WAS, AND AM, A TRAVELER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is what your wonderful Project Bluebook has been covering up since it shut down operations in December of 1969, at the exact time contact was made directly with me by the Almighty Goddess of this universe and beyond, the GREAT SARAH JEHOVAH KRASSLE.

'HIFISAF'

HELL IS FIXED IN STONE AND FIRE

CHAPTER 115

I had recently purchased an automobile in Turnersville, New Jersey at a Saturn dealership, and yes, it was a 1994 Saturn, purchased on the moon landing day, that was yesterday to me, July 20, 1969; only this was the anniversary, and not just any anniversary; but number 25, the quarter century mark. YES, not 134, but 25. Remember those two digits discussed with the five word sentence given in earlier blog works, Mister Microsucks Hacker Diseascum, “IT IS WHAT IT IS”??????????????

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

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2007 has been the most awful year in my miserable life. That is , until 2008, 2009, 2010, and you get the idea, up here in 2015, and if this was 2016 or 2017, same old same old same old same old, folks, right?

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Oh boy, life stinks, yet so many folks love life so much; and most are scared shitless to die. This is not attitude, but ignorance. So does this fit into the 42,000 dollar car repair hyperspace experience!!!!

Oh Holy Moly Molly Ringworm scratchers!!!

I popped out of some wild NIGHTMARE when I was dreaming it was the morning of August 15 in 1986. It seems I cannot ever get back to the universe I left before I hit my bed, at that Cherry Hill home of magic pharmaceuticals and soon to come MISS LEE TEENAILS!!!!!!!! Oh Lordess (SAR) (AH), what a lovely world I am stuck in. It is not the world but a game called GTNOTG. Maybe I am tied up in a shop on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, Geraldine Supergirl Shahpals. WOW MACY STACEY MACKEY. The fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation. WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HEY THERE LOVELY KATHARINE; SUP BIG GIRL?

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There's a new kid in town, I don't want to hear it, there's a new kid in town, I don't want to hear it. Not in 1978, not in 2015, not on WAYV, not on WFMU, and not in the great King Residence either, YO peeps!

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Hey Dawn-Marie King, YO; you may not want to hear it, and Cuba and her screwed up dad from Camden, and then Atlantic City, may try and fake out a lot of things, but remember; you're dealing with a mother fucker who has been the victim of some really ultimate and quintessential fake outs from even before Resorts all began. Am I talking to myself in elevators here, Mister Jack L&O McCoy; when I say that this dates back to the older times of such tunes, Mister Beretta sir, such as “Ode 2 Angelique”???????!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well I don't look fourteen any longer, Mister Casino and Liz Prostihooks, BUTTTTTTTT, I don't look all that old either. I do feel like I am about 133 however, and won't begin to fucking lie to any of you about that, not for a fucking New York minute, Mister Flash Splash Trash, of all beaches and fool farty pool parties!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No one says you have to hear it, old kids, new kids, Steve Marcus, or Dawny-Girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HIFISAF, CHAPTER 116-AMP

Mother fucking Jesus Christ Almighty, YO Dennis!

Reality, son? Show me how anyone can prove they have a corner on that, and I'll kiss their dirty rotten fucking ass or anything else they could ever wish for me to do, that is for the most part, within legality of course; Sheriff sir!

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OH SARAH, OH OH SARAH; I AM NOT LOOKING FOR ANY MAGICAL CHAINS OF GOLDEN HAIR, MOTORCYCLES, LEATHER JACKETS, DAYS OF TERROR IN NYNY, OR BEING TRAPPED UP IN YOUR ALMIGHTY LIGHTHOUSE; GREAT ALL POWERFUL TEEN QUEEN, FROM GOD DAM HELL. WEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

Women want and deserve respect; CUZZ!!!

END TRANSMISSION.

Oh wow did I have some wild dreaming experiences in the hyperspace last freaking night, lads and lassies.

It's feeling like 95 degrees at just past noon on this dam Saturday, with actual temperature being 86 and a high humidity of 70 percent.

HELL IS FIXED IN STONE AND FIRE

CHAPTER 115

MORIANITY, AND AMP

I WILL TAKE YOU TO ENDLESS WATERFALLS; DIANA!

That is until you take me back to any room in the sun, be it 1802 Robin Hill, or the bigger place just 93 million miles further away!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW, AND WO, BILLY HARNER, Here comes the SPACE-JUMP-HACK with the mouse, kind Federal Communications Commission!!!!

JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, YO SURFER-FONTY.

Speaking of wild dreaming interactions, let me go on now to tell you mine from last night, with Paula King, and the rest of my wild miserable family, Mister Steve Nonnews Harvey sir!

It did not take place at 1802 but it did take place in an inverted scramble of these four digits, in Narberth, Pennsylvania, USA, if indeed this was the name over in that parallel reality, and it might have been, or not, as you never can tell unless you see or hear proof that things in that parallel are equal to here. I speak of 1208 Greentree Lane. My Cuzz Sandy and also my Cuzz Carol, both grew up in that house, up very high on a suburban Philadelphia hill, overlooking another Studio-Park, with all of the great antenna's that broadcast most if not all of the Philly radio and television signals, or did before a lot of mandatory digital crap was enacted. But this story only is starting, and I am going to have to really compress it or it wouldn't get told until Halloween rolled around.

There was a swimming pool in the back yard in that universe, unlike over here. My Aunt and uncle discussed putting on in their rear yard, but that remained only talk. There were a huge bunch of peeps over at the house, many of my relatives as well as many peeps I know and all sorts of other buttwipe folks also. I only know it was early middish evening and it was in the summer time, and most everyone was outside in the pool. Both of my daughters, MY and PEE were there, and so was Patty-Paula, along with my first and second girl cousins, except for Cali resident Carol who is my Cousin Sandy's sister, and many people who were friends of a lot of these folks listed. Two strange dudes who were making lots of weird sounds out in the pool, seemed to find themselves brought in by a really tall and muscular man who I don't know from Adam-Dogshit, and he had placed them both into one of the three bedrooms, together on a bed, and they were moaning and groaning as if in pain. I am clueless to what that was all about, despite remembering hearing the big dude telling all three of my second cousins, The twins, named Stacey Alice and I forget her sister's name, and then the younger sister, Jeri. Long Story Short (LSS), Paula and I were talking right around this same time, standing in a different bedroom, looking outside the window at the crowded pool with a lot of peeps there, and you could hear voices and water splashing, like you would at any crowded pool party. The thing that stayed with me the most was Patty-Paula telling me about how I only had half the cosmic story right, and she was going to enlighten me. I remember sitting down on the side of the large bed in the master bedroom, and she then sat down in a chair facing me about four feet away. She told me that when the void blew into the plank, and later blew out into hyperspace; true intellect went furthest out into this expansion, that biblical scholars describe as the Third-Heavens. This is where only the most powerful entities of both good and evil had dreamed out so to speak. The less intense ones were lawtronically fixed to work their way in closer and back towards the plank or Astral Realm. We only have a limited tiny amount of these positive and negative fields surrounding us, that make things both good as well as bad, when they interact with carbon based physical life entities, or homosapiens. The further out, the higher or stronger the intensity of positive and negative, or for us biological entities, the good and the evil forces would surround us and operate through us. Nothing ever operated in a neutral field, and all things that we think and do from the very start to the very stop of all of our lifetimes, all of it is thrust into us, by these forces of cosmos that if we were not human and carbon based, would merely be electromagnetically pulsed charges of positive and negative polarities. Now I admit that there is a major towel seepage effect here with all of this. Mikey called back and was much nicer to me last evening, and we got talking about how he did not believe anything happens to human vessels as he call us, independently of God or Satan and forces that direct our paths and lives. There is of course a biblical teaching about a limited free will. If you try and choke yourself to death with a full will to accomplish it, you will be stopped by various forces that begin to surround you and your proximity. The pain and the inability to breathe, and things such as this, causes you to let go of your throat, should you try such a horrible thing. This is one example I can think of to explain total free will, verses the reality of limited free will. Each time things appear to be really close to a nuke disaster, in the recent past here on Earth, more UFO sitings seem to parallel those times and events as well. One can wonder as a result of this seemingly continual pattern and parallel, if some larger force watching us would be forced to interfere and stop us from blowing up our entire global society, if we were ever to stupid, and agreed to allow such a catastrophe to occur. I of course do not believe in extraterrestrials the same way that those who do believe it, do. Still, I never said something cannot make itself happen to appear as if that was the reality around us, even if an entirely different reality was truly behind those magical OZ-CURTAINS.

Yes people; that was one hell of a wild dream, and there was a lot more to it, but the only part I wanted to blog about, was the part where PP-Senior told me what she did, because this has been discussed on other blogs, only never with that exact spin on it that she had put on it, inside that powerful hyperspace interaction experience, or HIE. Translation, (HIE = Dreaming).

My life is beyond mother fucking hell; Doctor Skota, great drummers from Hal Blaine and your young protege, fowl summer camp soapy mouth language, and all of this and more, notwithstanding. As for the powerful stuff I will be telling, I new that what was in my mind would cause a powerful HIE to happen, and indeed, I was 100% totally correct. But just who is the great Patty-Paula King, Queen of Exploratronics and Shape-Shifting/Doppelganger Manipulating Somnambulism; as I now refer to this as, or for short, (SSDMS). The word sdemiss would be a good pronunciation for the abbreviation of this SSDMS, so Morianity and AMP is now going to create this word, and use it in future blogging texts, most likely; WEEEEEEEEE!!!! But is it not super ass interesting that when you go to add this word to the Spell-Checker dictionary, one of the possible error prompts listed to click on in case you misspelled a real word, is demises??????????? I mean, if Patty-Paula cannot cause the demises of anyone she so chooses; by golly gash darn gee fucking willagars whiz, who the fuck can, YO?

The sixties hippies talked a lot about peace, love, rockin-roll music, and flower-power. Who am I to not remember this great movement?

James Bond, and the inner child of humanity, wow; what a wild and ethereal combination of split realities. Lots of my songs from the eighties, or the lyrics to them; come to mind as I think about all of that, peeps. Screen names, screens, old blogs; and me making phone calls to Mister Gates and Mister Mets, huh United States Copyright Office? Wow, was Donna Gaines Summer correct, when she said ''Daddy said stay away''. You know I sent you her old shit, YO. I already lived up here, and knew this entire mess; but I was blocking it. We all block the bad shit we know via STM. I am no different at all from any of you, other than for the simple truth that I don't block the awareness of this all existing and being a part of reality, not a psych delusion that is created out of a mental fucking illness. Here is mental illness, Dave Roth, right up there, right there on 295 highway, out to the fucking east on that night in the early nineties, there's all the mental fucking illness you can ever dare to handle, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Well, it looks like you will be taking a lot of my money soon, United States Copyright Office. I must stop thinking I am in any real world with any real peeps who care one real little bit if I should live or die. Just keep close tabs on me and never let me escape, wow, it is always in the art, and I don't think it, I know it, and I hope you keep your dam job in Washington for 100 mother fucking years, you go lady!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.

Ads in newspapers, ruin a lot of people's lives. I for one am totally dead, and I have bleed out nice and red, for all of the sharks who swim in the sea, to come over and take a nice bite out of me, or maybe two, or even three; tee-hee!!!

Then there are the human sharks as well; so please folks; don't even get me started with those yesterday jerk offs, like Tracy Ullman, and Chris 501 Blues Blum, great folks; and whoever/whatever is really out here, right SSJKK-ISIS? SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT! Oh Jesus Christ Almighty, YO, 'no Stacey for me'!!!! Only other Kennedy's, and nightmare songs, that I would fucking sing to myself, every fucking rotten ass time I had to drive past that cunt chewing fucking 'MOUNT CONSTRUCTION COMPANY', the gods; what a poor slob I am, earring Joan-95, split pants and brake dance, and all of it. YUK. How to rob a bank without a gun, give me a break. How much have the banks robbed all of fucking us for the past half fucking century with their bullshit????? There are more than one of you out there, Mister Cable, right Cousin Donald? AND PLEASE TELL THAT WICKED WITCH SARAH, TO RELEASE ME FROM ALL OF HER LIGHTHOUSE PRISONS; SHERIFF MASCARA, SIR!