The
Bum Classification
CHAPTER
00013
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION.
When
I lived in Quakertown, Pennsylvania, USA, as a child; I has powerful
dreaming interactions with lightning, age ages six and seven years.
But while that was going on, I would have ''dead kids'' come up to
me, in parks and playgrounds, and tell me, they ''came from heaven''.
You can quote that. But lightning came to me in another Pennsylvania
town a few years even earlier than this, when I was age three and
four, living in a home with my parents they rented, called,
Levittown, also in Pennsylvania. I talked to you all about the bible
referencing the three heavens. I got the distinct impression from
some things that happened directly following my posting of those
words, that I was being screwed with. In round about clever ways,
someone tried to let me know that this was not spoken in the bible,
IMHO, call me weird and paranoid, as I'm quite used to it! It is in
there all right, but I went onto tell what the bible only tells if
you know the powerful truths that no words can speak unless you
become chosen to have something pass into and through you while alive
in waking hyperspace, that knows all , reveals all, and chooses but a
handful each millennia. This would be called, and I know that I
didn't invent it by any means; MORIANITY.
Roulette
was brought to my attention when I met up with a team of three humans
that I was absolutely programmed and destined to rub elbows with in
my late twenties, Everett Simpson, Herbert Letts, and George Belton.
The place I met these strange fellows was a used car lot, that was
only a mile or so away from my apartment number 1802, at the Robin
Hill Complex, in Voorhees Township, New Jersey. This lot was in the
neighboring town of Magnolia, as in the blossoms and country tune
that was just a year back from the time I happened to make contact
with this place, an dthese folks. I also was programmed and destined
in very similar manner, by HALLS powerful FAWCES, to make direct
contact with a dude in Atlantic City, on the beach just a dozen yards
or so south of the Central Pier and the place right there on its
south side, that I always label as Ziggy's Jetty. This dude appeared
and vanished out of literally nowhere, and told me things at the
tender age of nineteen and a half years, in the summer time of 1974,
that led me to literally within 24 hours or so after being in
contact, become as enlightened as a Buddhist Monk, regarding cosmic
oneness.
OCTOBER
29, 2015,
THURSDAY
AFTERNOON AT 4:46,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 81 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY---------(H-84/L-70).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 79%, IT FEELS LIKE 87.
WIND
IS E AT 7, WITH A SMALL GUST TO 8.
29
years ago today, I lost two games straight, playing
roulette in Atlantic City. The second game was played at Trump's
Castle Casino Hotel, where the Marina Hotel later came to be, in the
same building structure. Losing these two games back to back, along
with being in a brand new condition since the past August fifteenth,
where shit was going wrong monstrously and horrendously; I decided I
could not risk playing any longer, and took my remaining money, and
put it towards moving out of that Cherry Hill home, and that evil
demonic landlord, Richard Karpf; which took place the following year,
1987, around early or middle spring time. That was the end of my
playing roulette in Atlantic city, professionally, and forced me to
return back into the job market, and doing security duty again, which
I fucking cunt despised. It is most probably why I wrote the lyrics
to a song called, “Ocean's Sodom”,
about Atlantic City,
and Trump's hellhole casino;
that broke me and wiped out my entire , forever and ever.
OCEAN'S
SODOM © MARK WAYNE MOHR 1987
WRITTEN
NOVEMBER, 1986.
The
night the Castle broke me, how life has changed since then
Their
queen Irene fulfilled their dream, and forced me from their den
Glittering
lights block out the stars except those made by man
Booming
sounds and thrilling sights of which I'm not a fan
The
waves roll up and back again the wind blows hard and strong
But
no one's listening number ten all bets down don't have long
The
sun can shine down bright and hot the moon romances lovers share
Yet
night is great to win jackpots by day the signs don't swim beware
Listen
hard with all your ear why hear ye not the cry
Plastic
pleasures win your tear while losers just plain die
Eight
months came and eight months went I couldn't lose a dime
Money
made and money spent and wow the perfect crime
And
then the gambling fever hit more chances did I take
My
system's mighty throat was slit one day I lost my stake
Memories
burn forever bright of days played by the sea
But
now I'm in eternal night a dying worthless me
Oh
the night the Castle broke me how life has changed since then
Their
queen Irene fulfilled their dream and forced me from their den
Glittering
lights block out the stars except those made by man
Booming
sounds and thrilling sights of which I'm not a fan
Yes
I wish I could look up the actress who played Serena Collins in that
through the looking glass parallel-time in the great TV hit sixties
show, called, “Dark Shadows”. Talk about where it all began, 29
years ago. Holy Moley Ringworm Scratching Molly, sixteen times over,
without Patty's awesome candles. Hey you were right all along, Ziggy,
but all of you, Adele, Helen, whatever. I sure don't know nuttin' YO!
These mother fuckiGN scum bags across from me have been going in and
out all god dam mother fuckiGN day long, annoying me to shit,
Sheriff. As if you could fuckiGN care in the least about asshole
pitiful non-Ronstadt little puny insignificant me!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Everything
in my nightmare fucking life, totally reminds me exactly, of the
story told on the internet, as well as on many BERMUDA TRIANGLE
DOCUMENTARIES; where the radio station fucking
talk show host was commandeered, equipment-wise, by those calling
themselves, and I QUOTE, the {{{(((“MILLIONTH-COUNCIL”)))}}}.
Every mother fucking twat eating claim that I
ever make, or have made, or will go on making on these dam blogs, is
totally true and accurate; and can be backed up by anybody with the
fucking desire to GOOGLE around, and find it all out for themselves,
my BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THERE
IS NO WAY TOM REALE, IN JULY OF 1970, WOULD HAVE BEEN THAT UPSET,
THAT NIGHT OF THE FIREWORKS; IF HE WAS NOT ALL PART OF WHAT HAPPENED
THE YEAR BEFORE THAT, AND WAS NOT ALSO A MEMBER OF THE GREAT AND
POWERFUL EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND
SOCIETY!
AFTER
MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3
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To
be completely honest, lads and lassies; it is beyond surreal and
weird, times three billion; to know all the stuff that I know. But
laugh at me all you want to because I do know what I know. There is a
whole lot of fuckiGN shit I don't know a dam thing about. All I ever
claimed is that I know what I know. I also know that for anyone out
there who ever doubts; there is proof to my entire story from hell.
You just don't want to ever get that proof, because just like that
dam ass cop up in Williamstown, and back in fucking 1994, and to
quote this wonderful marvelous terrific dude; “I don't believe this
Mister Mohr, because I don't wanna' believe it”! Actually the “it”
word for a perfect quote, needs to be substituted with the words, “my
country would ever do it”. Still, whatever, to quote the mighty
congressman, back before he ever was one. Since those days, oh kind
sir, most of us grew up, as did Mister Mackey's star pupil who went
onto lead the great and powerful Federal Communications Commission,
and went from immaturity and infantile behaving boyhood, right
smack-dab into this fine gentlemen, who was the FCC Director for
years, and once my very good pal. Yes most of us grew up, and faced
the facts that Iraq did not have weapons of mass destruction, an da
zillion other examples of this that all went down. We may not like
the truth, but denying reality can only serve to be an eventual
worse fate, should we insist on choosing to conduct ourselves, with
that twisted mind set. I promise you all this little piece of dam
wisdom, folks!
Let
me take my twisted broken life now, and vanish into oblivion. You
see, another fact that I had to personally face, from learning many
hidden secrets, that pulsate throughout cosmos, yet are on the tuning
frequency of most people's human radar system for ever picking up on
any of it; is that roulette taught me many of life's hidden secrets,
right down to why I played this game for years, gambled in Atlantic
city, and did my music for decades. My mother learned this same
secret, but wasn't able to handle the cosmic fallout of her newly
acclaimed wisdom from these dark and hidden halls that many label,
'the occult'.
This word just means HIDDEN.
She messed with solitaire games using ordinary cards, and told me
that her games were beginning to speak to her. I knew what she was
getting into without her being the wiser for wear, because of my
experiences with playing roulette in Atlantic City. I to this day, am
not totally sure whether it was the solitaire shit she was doing, or
Paula King Senior, murdering her literally (in her sleep), and most
likely life has taught me another tid bit of dam wisdom, the
AND AND AND verses the OR OR OR theory,
as I have labeled and termed this. In other words the odds favor the
fact that both of these things most likely contributed equally t her
demise, on the day following Christmas, of 1997. But yes, cards and
numbers and gaming stuff has a unique hidden power. It showed me
truths of how shit all around us is literally programmed to operate,
and how we all can so easily effect the rest of cosmos, in small,
medium, and even very large ways, and do in fact do this all the dam
time. My blogs discussed how five people with favorite numbers, all
going to a gaming table for roulette play at a casino, can put HALLS
FAWCES into play, in ways that to this day, even expert quantum
Physicists are totally clueless about, with all their formulas. But
if they were to ever take what I know and combine it with what they
know, the entire world could be ruled. I may sound like Hitler here,
but am just you the telling you the facts. Maybe this is why cosmic
destiny interferes and prevents me, from ever telling my shit, to
meaningful and powerful peeps, who might just stop to take it
seriously, the way University of Pennsylvania Professor Deturch did,
back in 1991. His words to me, and you may quote this; “Mark, you
have created a brand new mathematical discipline”. I do not brag
here, but merely tell facts. Even the mighty mind of Einstein
insisted that Roulette is not beatable unless you can successfully
cheat the dealer. Again, a quote from the great OTHER MAN OF HAIR,
Cousin don! Yet in 1986, I used parallel event to do just that, and
no, I never tried to cheat. You don't want to get caught playing THAT
GAME in Atlantic City. IPYT!!!
The
time was back in 1984, and things all started after Donald J. Trump
opened up his first casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey; the Trump
Plaza Hotel.
Still, Alex Jones says it best and I could never hold a candle flame
up to his sun on my best freaking day, the NSA CULT, which is NASA
with the first letter-A removed, makes 'Orwell's 1984' prophecies
from decades before that, seem tamer and sillier than any child's
game played anywhere at any playground the world over, YO YO YO YO
BRO!!!!!!!!!! What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans??????????????????? Now
this is all fine and well, but a lot more connects into shit than
this just being my 29th
anniversary of Trump kicking my fuckiGN ass, because I was reckless,
and abused a great system; and never was able to make a successful
come back ever since, because
of that August 15, 1986 problem.
But is this problem only as old as that date, Howard Orlando Solomon?
Talk about strobelights, train trips, and people telling my mother
powerful and strange things. Why would that throat specialist in 1984
call my mother at her office and say to her, regarding me and my
choking problem back trhen, “That's not his problem Misses
Mohr”????????? Lots and lots and lots of strange things were all
connected up here, just like those five fucking gamer players at a
roulette table who all are keeping track of numbers that come out a
little more dependably than other numbers do, for them. One may be
playing 3, 26, 30, and zero. Another may be playing zero, 4, 14, 19,
22, and 35. Yet another may be playing 14, 17, 33, and double zero.
You get the idea. To each of them, these numbers come out with some
slight preponderance over the others in long run play action, within
the total 38 numbers in a roulette game. But the interaction of these
players all at one gaming table, WOW, now where do I and Professor
Kaku and Albert Einstein even begin this discussion? All these other
scientists never dared to try applying ANY PART OF QUANTUM DYNAMICS
and theory into real life, and their own personal lives, as did I.
This
is because I played roulette while I played that other game, and not
the one invented by god dam Milton Bradley, called LIFE. The other
life, real life, my life.
Keyboards from Petahell, Lenny McKinnon, we could start with just
this, or easily branch off into dozens of fuckiGN things from my
mysterious chocking condition of June 4, 1983, and apply this very
same thing along the lines of those players all playing THEIR OWN
NUMBERS, but at one particular table, huh Governor
Kean????????????????? Do I get a mother fucking MACY-WOW yet, or is
everybody a totally brain dead mother fuckiGN moron,
YO????????????????????????
Folks,
I can tell you some shit that would make you go as crazy forever as
PP's Jersey associate and Joe Paget my co-security guard, combined.
That, as Jennifer Washburn put it so eloquently, would prove not a
whole lot, so let me just say this, in nice easy lingo. As of this
present second, my belief systems are not complex unless as with
anything, you wish to make it appear as though it is a lot more than
it is.
Yes
ladies and gentlemen, hope burns eternal. I know this might get me a
great big dam kiss from lovely luscious Twinbay, from EHT, up in New
Jersey??????????? Oh yeah, I'll bet you never thought you'd hear
words like that, coming from asshole little me! WOW, I
did say, Lois Foca 1980,
the one and only 1980.
Well I may not be Bob the vampire, TDA, or Roseann either; or even
the retired carpenter from the future, back in 1981; but I knew then,
I was not imagining any of this wild stuff, by pure Yogi Berra
anti-happenstance-logic!!!! WEEEEE! Hey, maybe I just said Keyboards
from petahell, mysterious chocking illnesses, weird people in the
throat specialty business, and really wacky used car lots of
Magnolia. Well, I sure don't want to get the late Frank Callio too
excited over lots of pwetty fwowers, for
crissake!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
As
things grew into what they were, around the time I was obsessed with
locating the mysterious teenaged girl from my past, in Atlantic City,
New Jersey; I needed no convincing from the most powerful ten top
peeps on Planet Earth, that what I was going through was real, and
that psychiatry had nothing to do with shit. Still,
Sarah allowed me to collect disability, and to the world, I had
become not only the crazy nut I always was basically considered to
be, but now I was LEGALLY CERTIFIED.
Many things need to be done in this life to people who find out too
many fucking cunt secrets that are total ''NO-NO'' things to be found
out. The difference with me on all of this is something quite fucking
mind blowing and breaking. This entire deal was to get me to become
aware, ONE BY ONE BY ONE, of each and every one of these horrendous
dirty big secrets. This way I could legitimately pile up Earthly and
even cosmic enemies, and just look like to quote the great Doctor
Bruce Goldberg, “A NUT”, in his marvelous untrumpable book from
the late nineties, “Time Travelers From Our Future”. James T.
Burr of Gloucester Sharks City, New Jersey said something to me in
1975 that takes all of this powerful story and literally amplifies it
like an antenna 1500 feet high, and taking mega doses of mechanical
steroids. He said, “Mark, things don't just happen, and people
aren't just born weird like you, to have weird lives. More has to be
behind a magic door than what we are able to see”. WOW for crissake
cubed. Just substitute that magic door for a great and powerful set
of curtains hiding a man from Kansas, at the end of a very long
tunnel looking bizarre looking hallway. Hey, George Strait, YO; NEED
I SAY MORE”?
If
anyone on Planet Earth knows and has the fucking ability to verify my
true story, ALL OF IT, it is the mother fucking UNITED STATES
FREAKING COPYRIGHT OFFICE DOWN IN WASHINGTON, FREAKING, DISTRICT OF
FREAKING COLUMBIA, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I suppose for the past six
years, I would need to change this to up at the Copyright Office.
END
TRANSMISSION.
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