The
Bum Classification, Chapter 00017
WOW,
am I being messed with here, by my lovely family, and government
agents, who make up my BLOGAUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
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Just
as the law of energy totals in a hypersphere, dictate an absolutely
impossible escape; since the combined total ergs, is less than the
required and necessary amount, to permit such an 'escape'; the
smaller picture rules and lesser-laws, by the very nature of their
existence inside and within this larger infinity; also have
inescapable situations and circumstances, such as MINE; for one known
example; as per my ten years of blogs, and what these true stories
tell and make honest claim to, one of the many sub-set smaller
picture situations will be talked about all within and throughout
this blog. I could also subtitle this blog twice, as the
“PAULA-KING-LOOK-ALIKE PSYCHIC RADIO TIME BLOG”, and only a very
few peeps on this planet would have a tiny clue to its meaning. Then
again, my father told me something in the middle nineteen-seventies
that is quite pertinent to all of this. He said that when you look at
a faint star in a night sky, in order to see it better with the naked
eye, you need to look just off of the star, as opposed to looking
directly at it and having it faint away and blink out of view. I have
done this, and he is 100% on the money. Try it. I know that most
peeps who are reading these words, are wondering how this has squat
to do with things recently happening in my life as per my numerous
recent blogs since my moving into this public housing building here
in Fort Pierce, Florida, at 7th and Avenue B. Let me draw
the correlations and connect the dots for you.
Forget
all the times that I have told these blogs that the great SSJK has
told me in “sleeping-states”, to be more subtle while telling
this story, along with of course, to knock off all of my horrendous
profanity; but forget the great Scylla Goddess, and let us look at
the mighty Earthly counterpart of these great initials, the
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL, which in a nutshell, equals the EW, the
“Entertainment-World”. This EW term that I use and have used for
some time now, in today's modern age of post 1990; includes sports
figures, and maybe even our Washington and local politicians, and is
no longer simply confined to the worlds of Hollywood acting, movies
and television; and major recording labels, and musical artists. I
did say major and not independent, and there seems to be a difference
of opinion among many folks about many things. For example, the
BonJovi peeps at the PSL, FLUSAESMWG studio, have told me that the
'major labels' of the 'music world' are alive and well, and in
control, as always. PP, my partner in SPR since 1998, has a differing
opinion, to which he is perfectly entitled to, with or without my
permission, or that of MD from 1980 at the RPL Studios. Still, this
is a tangent that is taking us off the main point, and I don't choose
to digress further, so let me go on now and tell a little tale of
truth, all about how my endless nightmare circumstances only
perpetually continue to unravel and worsen, both geometrically and as
time nears an ending for my present lifetime, an almost parabolic
curving quantitative frequency of this ever heightening of horrors.
Scylla is not the only entity or force that believes in subtle
messaging, nor is She by any means the one who began using these with
me, or maybe I should rephrase and say that around the very same
time, both SHE, and the EW, seemed to kick in and begin this GAME. I
speak of early 1980, the LOIS FOCA INTERACTION, and progressing
forward from this point, all of the RADIO GAME, and the TV GAME that
all planted their roots, and grew into this wild incredible game that
even the imaginations of peeps like those who created shows such as
Star Trek, and The Twilight Zone, and the Outer Limits, and along
these lines, would have to take a real back seat to, when all things
over a long time period, are all said and done. Still, inside this
game, is one constant, and it is absolute, and inviolate, and this
would be its subtlety. Without including the ever present reality of
the 6th dimensional STM (Space-Time-Mind), and seeing
things as PP told me that I should try and see things on a more
surface level, if for no other reason than the preservation of my own
limited sanity, he may or may not remember telling me this on the
road one day while we were going to take care of something that
pertained to his drivers license; but speaking right on the surface,
when I sent my song called, “HA-HA-WHO”, down in late 1981, or
maybe early 1982, to the United States Copyright Office, for 'PAu'
registration, LA-LA; I had no 3-D awareness whatsoever of this
powerful GAME OF THE GODS in their Earthly counterpart forms as the
EW. What I know now in its fullness, I knew in fullness then, only on
a very deep buried unconscious level, and just as with the
'waking-freeze', totally for my own protection.
Hay
Patty-Paula, why don't you and me take those really cool candles of
yours, and try seeing if Steve'll speak 2 us, lovely
girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
“HIGH
SCHOOL DAYS COMING AROUND AGAIN RAPIDLY”
THE
BUM CLASSIFICATION
CHAPTER
00017
Well,
60,000 page-views; that's better
than 30, or 15, or seven and a half, or a handful, or none. But
99,990 is so close, and yet, sir Frankie Valley, SO FAR.
Why did you do this to me,
Jimmy, Ernie, and Tony BonJovi?
Thanks for
stopping by, Avalon Recording Studio is now closed for business. If
you are looking for a professional recording studio we recommend
Power Station Studios in Pompano Beach, Florida.
www.powerstationstudios.com
TEE
HEE HEE HEE HEE LILLY MUNSTER!!!!!!!
The
answer is simple as shit. I was placed into the Bum Classification.
Want to know more? Flip my count to six digits. Don't want to know
more, then don't. It's a dam free country, laugh-laugh!!!
Fucking
whore water-witch Jane just fucking nailed me with her page eleven of
eleven baseball park assault, or her 1993 attack-2. Here comes my
mother fuckiGN counter-strike, YO!!!
555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
Good
Lord and 25 cents, Mister McKinnon from 1980 and 1982, where is all
of this goddess-dam shit gonna' lead us all into now, YO? Have you
ever ever wondered? Seriously Saru, forget about the cock sucking
shadows and other unexplained mysterious. The ESS is the answer and
the reason for all that goes down with humanity here on Planet Earth,
my BRAH! Hay,
I'm just sayin', crissake Darius old pal, IT
IS 0808,
but
not in OHM-8, or in eighty-eight,
PRAISE
THE LORD, MISTER ROBERTSON HURRICANE STOPPER!!!!
|
Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu000204016
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1980
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Where
were you when I needed you TWINBAY, with that positive outlook on
life you always have? Would you be telling me it's gonna' be all
right, when I quit acting like I'm so up tight, and don't I know I'm
adda sight, in THE MORNING LIGHT? No lighthouses or lakehouses,
Microsoft Corporation, I have enough to deal with right now, lovely
people!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHA-AHA-AHA, excuse you Mike McNulty, drink a
'cupawata', BRRRRR!
Well,
last night's wild travels in hyperspace did take me to crazy world
where I lived here and had locked myself out of my apartment. At
least, unlike our new Speaker of the House of Representatives, up on
Capitol Hill, Mister Paul; I didn't lock myself out of my house,
“here in this waking and so called real life”, to quote
other mortals!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
Mister BonJovi closed down his studio early in 2013, but that is not
what I am referring to. He and his pals all know how they treated me.
Hey but what else is mother fucking new around this part of the
universe, for crissake cubed?
ALL
DAM SAVANTS KNOW THIS ONE, 'THE END'
Chapter
00016
The
Bum Classification
My
hurricane door installation will take place on Monday late morning or
very early afternoon, on 2 November. New month, new doors, new
whatever, to quote my old singing buddy, Bob, from Oak Street, in
Haddon Heights, New Jersey, back in 1975. If you run into Al Pillegi,
tell him YO dude, hey sup? For me! If you run into Bob, Al Pileggi,
same diff, BRAH! My point about all of this, is that HALLS FAWCES
won't ever ever ever ever ever ever fucking allow me to move into
anything closely resembling NEW. Stop making fucking fun of me,
Geico, or I'll squish that dam ugly polka dotted reptilian lizard
scum with both my feet until all that's left is dust and memories,
YO!
How
do I know I have nothing but enemies in my rotten family and
government agent spies who all hate my guts for no good reason?
Because they are freezing me underneath the 100,000 count. It is as
if these dirty mother fuckers are messing with me, and you know the
funny thing about it out there in cyber-village, YO? I
already knew deep down in my fucking cunt eating spirit,
that this would be done by you ingrate mother
fuckers. You have been given magical
fuckiGN shit by me, and you all sit there, and just laugh and mock
me, and spit and jeer all over me. Too bad my father planned all of
this, from his island fuckiGN universe diners of Akoslem City, or at
least that's what he imparted to me back in fucking diseased 1976,
when he drew those sea charts, for where the seven Spanish treasure
galleons were lost to hurricanes, centuries ago, YO BRO! You see, he
had the correct bloodlines in his mother fucking ancestry, to get him
into a very secret room at a Portugal museum, during World War 2.
This is where a lot of his extensive research was conducted, and then
later on, his pal who was in charge of ops on his naval vessel,
second only to the Captain, would allow a maneuver to be carried out,
known by treasure salvers as ''magging''. Powerful magnetometers are
used to get readings from long sunken metal artifacts and bullion
bars from where the actual vessels long rotted out and vanished. All
I have to do is to take these last positions, and there is a computer
program that will plot where this last known coordinate chart shows
where to begin at site-1, as from there, the other six sites are all
given in tenths of miles in compass directions; and this will modify
right up to a present point, where this all would be, based on tides
and storms, and other oceanographic and marine situations, that
pertain to all of these things.
The
problem after this is that some fuckiGN jerk off political deal was
made by unscrupulous dirt bags here in god dam crooked Florida. Now a
bunch of asshole private salvage company people, own the rights to
the entire fuckiGN Treasure Coast. So I will not ever just hand these
fuckiGN dirt bags squat after what my dad and I went through to get
this mother fuckiGN shit, THAT you can believe, YO! If my dam ass
daughter or her children, want to share 50-50 with these crooks or
make some deal with them, that's cool with me as I'll be fuckiGN dead
and gone, and I have willed this to her. Screw this shit, crooked
Florida and your crooked rotten Treasure Coast. My dad and I didn't
ruin our entire family just so a few dirty crooks can rip us off!
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There
should be a big fucking sign right here, saying welcome to the life
of Mountainpen, please continue a forward path to better observe.
I
can just put on a pair of transdimensional reality shifters, and make
the whole fucking word disappear.
A
very simple device can do something similar, and it doesn't need any
electronic parts. Now the only reason you don't pay attention is
because you think I am lying. I am probably about the most honest
mother fuckiGN jack off bastard that you will ever in any way be in
contact with, your entire lives, whoever is out here. So be stupid
cubed in Cuba. Go win for the lottery of Atlantic City and Camden,
Daddy Cuba; you whore from 2002!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
The
Bum Classification
Chapter
00015
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GLOBAL
AUDIENCE IN SHADE RATIO:
One
thing it never ever is anymore around here, is quiet. Two things it
never ever is, is quiet, and peaceful. These pricks across from me do
not use that apartment for storage. Debra the Resident Manager is
boldly lying to my face. When the men came to take door frame
measurements yesterday afternoon, both my door and the door across
from me needed to be opened up at the same time. I could not help but
to see into the apartment. Very expensive looking furniture is in
there. Where would they get money for this unless someone is paying
them off to persecute me and never ever fucking leave, year after
year? My Spell check has been hacked AGAIN, Federal Communications
Commission and ?Federal Bureau of Investigation. Let me boot off and
come back on. I must be the most important obscure and invisible
human being to ever grace the surface of this totally screwed up
mother fuckiGN planet in the history of any and all humankind. Aniwho
YO; the Spell Check has been repaired as usual, by booting off and
back on again, BOB CHAIRMAN/DIRECTOR LATE, MCDOWELL, of Fort Wayne,
Indiana, United States of America! Let's take a walk through Cooley
Hall sometime, and reminisce about your little dick in the mouth,
BRUCE A. PENNOCK, Mister Mackey telling you that you'd grow up and be
a man some day, and so many other really cool things. Oh holy
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE and Sarah Jacobson Watergate!
GEE-WILLIGARS
and by gash by golly, Merry Soda Shops and surf board carriers all
over the place; or two out of the three heavens discussed in the
bible scriptures; what NEXT, lovely Judge Judy? Morianity honors you
with a happy Briper, AKA, happy 20 years with your great television
show. Keep on trucking girl! You and PH are so great together, you
guys both rock and rule, in more ways than one, but then, you know
that, and don't need poor old dummy loser little me, to tell you guys
a thing.
Void
infinity (singularity) is the Phase-1 level of existence and is the
first heaven. Plank or the realm of spiritual existence (purgatory)
is the Phase-2 level of existence and is the second heaven. The third
heaven is the visible heavens that we all see in the night skies as
we peer into the vast darkness and the stars in our Milky Way Galaxy.
Those living awake and aware on the planet inside there called Earth,
are all a part of this third heaven, and this is indeed the Phase-3
level of existence. The SKIP-SPACE-HACK or (SS-HACK) is very bad, and
has been for quite a while now, Bob McDowell, late Chairman and
Director of FCC. Hey, we can take a walk up to the magical highway
gate to see if anything is really buried underneath the ground. You
of all people should have some interest in any device that may
regulate or in some way interfere with or control, communications.
Mike Sodas the power puncher used to call it the Highway Gate, you
know, just a ways beyond the Lilly's Lilliputian Livery. I think the
great powerful Christmas Tree Angel, perfect or imperfect as the case
may be in 2009, and her friends; renamed the word 'highway' in a
clever and very significant way, don't you, old buddy??????? So how
did your offspring turn out, Bob ol' buddy, just wondering in me' ol'
age, maitee, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And
most of all, when the red leaves fall. People pass me by, never ask
my name. I can wonder why, but it's still a shame. Yet I can always
find when I look behind, that the world was kind.
Now
what world was I mother fuckiGN living in back in 1975, when I wrote
those lyrics to the song called, “RED LEAVES”???????
boy
oh boy oh boy oh boy, do I wish I had been right on the money just
once in my miserable fucking life, Sheriff Mascara, sir!
You
just go right on laughing at me.
I know a magic person from Long
Beach Island,
who knows the biggest secret of all, Patty Hollister; and
told me.
You
know, that SHE'LL get me for this. Well,
she got me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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WeatherBug Severe Weather Alerts
Only
one truth prevails over everything. That would be the Exploratronic
Supermind,
AKA the PEEFOREY.
The Peeforey is the P4E or the realm of the PHASE-4-ENTITY of the
PLANK (Astral-Plane). Only through this incredible fucking shit,
great folks; can all these wild things in my life, and your lives
many times whether you dam ass know it or not; be happening. Whenever
I talk about some things, not all things, its roots come from other
parallel side bands of atomic reality, where very mind elevated guru
types have mastered th eart of not only Fascitar, but all of Patty
Hollister's great hidden parlor tricks from the other side. It is
those people in those universes where the roots and stems of shit I
go through here, actually take place and exist. But until Kaku and
the gang from NYU begin to really experiemnt with Quantum Life
Dynamics as I name this new discipline; then I'll be continually and
endlessly mocked and scorned by this asshole society around me. I
totally get that. It is exactly what I would expect to be happening,
for crissake. If you hit a brick wall in your car at 80 miles per
hour, you can expect a big splat and no more you. Same thing! I am
not a reality denier, any more than any jew is a Holocaust Denier.
Get it yet!
Now
folks, if you suddenly should find yourself helpless and alone, in a
zoo cage filled with hungry lions, tigers, bears, along with great
powerful Dorothy twisters, from the OZ-CURTAINS, and so much more
from melting water witches to all real life computer hacks and
glitches; take heart, cheer up, and jump on the biggest soap box you
can find and yell out these words: I
am not alone. They did this to the great master and lord Jesus, and
they did this to the nephew of the sixty-first grand son of one of
his younger brothers.
No
sir, you won't die in any lonely hearts club, IPYT!!!!
Links To Previous Posts Below:
About Me:
-
-
- © MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM) 2006-2015
-
- Name: theansweristheqyuestion
- Location: Hammonton, New Jersey, United States
Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly
say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived
here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with
awareness.
Oh
GEEEEEE and JEEEEEEEZ, Optimist Twinbay; what is next for poor old
cursed fucking mountainpen? After 1986 through 1996, and think about
it folks, I never stabbed two pretty innocent women out in Cali like
Oranthal did, nor did I burn down any swimming clubs, or steal any
money from people, like owner of Haddonwood Mister Tony Zenun did. I
may be an occasional wise ass, but I am not a wise guy. I even grew
up, like Bob McDowell did; mister Daniel Mackey, sir. Yet and still,
nasty threats were made to my mom and me, on the 2nd day of August,
in 1996; just a few months after my writing the
song SARAH,
about
my lovely queen.
They
did not like any part of my trying to get the song recorded,
let alone more than that, getting a once huge star to sing it, Mister
Billy Harner. The locals in my area knew him as the [human
percolator]. He was one helluva super cool dude. They certainly did
not ever want the song 2 get any airplay, but it did, on WVLT radio
in Vineland, New Jersey, as one dude, [George and George] as he
called himself, would call every week and request the song to B
played, and so it was. It even made it for one week to the number one
spot on country music charts, in the independent music system, which
if you ever saw a published [pie-chart], from those who should know,
the great BMI, as only ASCAP and BMI are the 2 biggest royalty
collecting agents in the entire global music industry, and by their
pie chart, independent music makes up more than half of the major
recording labels all put together, so don't sneeze at my minimal
success. I paid federal taxes on musical royalties, and collected
small royalties from 1998 when WVLT started airing SARAH, up until it
slowed to a trickle of pocket change about 1 and 1/2 years ago, a
helluva nice little run!!! I wrote Sarah, the song, on the 12th day
of May of 1996, and my search and quest to locate my lovely teen
queen super girl, was less than a year old. There is so much 2 tell
all of U regarding this, and I'll get 2 it all, but first, gotta
admit that it is a bit weird that August 1, of 2006, ten years later
to the day except for 24 hours, and I am physically threatened again.
If this dude keeps messing with me, it'll B his funeral!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Chapter 49 Just Call Me Poor-Whittle Ugly Old Joe Shmo, Who's Out of 'his' SPACE-TIME-MIND!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Chapter 49 Just Call Me Poor-Whittle Ugly Old Joe Shmo, Who's Out of 'his' SPACE-TIME-MIND!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Chapter 49 Just Call Me Poor-Whittle Ugly Old Joe Shmo, Who's Out of 'his' SPACE-TIME-MIND!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Chapter 49 Just Call Me Poor-Whittle Ugly Old Joe Shmo, Who's Out of 'his' SPACE-TIME-MIND!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Chapter 49 Just Call Me Poor-Whittle Ugly Old Joe Shmo, Who's Out of 'his' SPACE-TIME-MIND!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Chapter 49 Just Call Me Poor-Whittle Ugly Old Joe Shmo, Who's Out of 'his' SPACE-TIME-MIND!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Chapter 49 Just Call Me Poor-Whittle Ugly Old Joe Shmo, Who's Out of 'his' SPACE-TIME-MIND!
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Chapter 49 Just Call Me Poor-Whittle Ugly Old Joe Shmo, Who's Out of 'his' SPACE-TIME-MIND!
Is
Your Doctor a Memorial Doctor?
Is
Your Doctor a Memorial Doctor?
Is
Your Doctor a Memorial Doctor?
Is
your lab-technician an ESS traveler, or just the Almighty Goddess of
this multiverse? My cousin thinks one of us is, Ron Wirtz, and Kenny
Mascara!!!
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu000204016
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1980
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu003037983
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2005
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu002237985
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1997
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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Pau—stolen
form
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2013
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I
hate your fucking guts for what you did to me; Mister
BonJovi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Basically, this began the other side of
the curtains for me, and you can tell Emy-Louise Cicone that I said
so, now or fucking 32 years and six months ago, YO!!!!!!!!!! But I am
not the fucking retard that you think I am, sir. The following
sentence explain why you did this to me. You
all know well that they would lose their mother fuckiGN mind, and
then they'd come after a lot of you; and THAT
sir Rockdroid Rottenberry Blucran, is a HELL YOU CAN'T FACE. But
don't take my fucking word for it. Ask Doctor Harold Camping of
Family Stations Incorporated, YO!!!!!! Reality can be strung together
very easily, and it makes sense even jumbled up. This is because all
dots indeed do connect and all things are commingled, no matter how
many ordinary factory worker types laugh and sneer about the idea. I
did factory work so I am not saying anything to that, but merely am
illustrating a basic mind set amongst the small and close minded of
this world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
GOOGLE:
Results for “painful bleeding ulcers”
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MIKE MORBID MCNULTY!!!!
Aug
25, 2015 ... Stomach ulcers are painful sores in the stomach lining
or small intestine. ... If you have an actively bleeding ulcer,
you'll likely be hospitalized...LIKE DUH!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh
may the gods take pity on Planet Earth. Ten years of my blogs, and
where did it get me besides a lot more hell, and a wiped out life.
Lost and alone here I cry, to quote the lyrics from my 1997 shit,
while in the dead center hub of this ''finding-Sarah''
mess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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As
I said, and now reiterate because it's of major dam importance: Using
the Fascitar, and having the knowledge of where to go, once you
apparently seem to wake up into PLANK, or (the purgatory), astral or
spiritual existence, of thought equals instantaneous reality
duplication; is step one. Step two is when you are on the
Astral-Plane, your very first thought needs to be, I wish to be with
the Almighty Goddess in the capitol city (heaven) (GOD) or however
any one of you reading these words is more comfortable saying it; and
when correctly mastered, which takes the average man or woman or
teenager, about one to two weeks of three days a week practice; you
will get your mind blown so far that it will not ever be what it was
before you went.
Here
is the magical FASCITAR. What people don't get is just how powerful
this shit really and truly is. If I tried to charge $1,000.00 to send
these instructions to you, printed on super fancy U. S. mint type of
paper and printed on some wild brew of ink, you would all say it was
valuable. That is how fuckiGN stupid people of Planet Earth are. I am
giving away the fuckign mint, and most everyone alive is saying,
“screw you Mountainpen”! Well, I am still giving it away. Even
the great Mizz Know-It-All from 1974 only knew part of this. The
final part is never printed or wasn't, not in 1969 when new copies
were retrieved from a lost Mayan culture from the stars, or some
other crap the AAT Club might dream up. I already know there is only
one world that counts, and anything else is a bunch of illusion and
shit.
Lay
down on a flat comfortable surface, and be sure it is dark and quiet.
If you need to wear a blindfold and put ear-buds in with some white
noise repeating looped sound track, do it. It is best to be
unclothed, but 'whatever' to quote my old 1975 pal, Bob Andrews!
Those living alone or in any situation where they can do this in a
private room, dark and quiet, will receive the best and quickest
successful results. But don't lose hope when it won't happen on your
first try. I don't know one dam Tibetan Guru who got it oon their
first try. You only need to actually DO two steps. The first part of
the four things you need to do, as well as the fourth; merely need to
be mastered by repetition. For those who know of and practiced stuff,
such as what you'll find in Robert Monroe's great book on the subject
of 'astral-projection', throw away all the shit you think you know
about this topic, and merely begin all over again as though this is
all totally new to you. His stuff may or may not work for various
people, but I assure you that you will not be able to accomplish the
results that the Fascitar will bring to you, once you master its
unfathomable secret, and develop this quite outlandish skill.
STEP
ONE OF FOUR:
You
need to feel divinely blissful.
In order to do this, while laying motionless in your dark quiet
solitude; you
must learn to daydream.
Even people such as me, with rotten lives, can daydream. All of us no
matter what, have something somewhere, that pretending this is
surrounding you; would make you feel almost giddy and high, naturally
of course. Don't confuse this with step-2, as things may appear
similar, but they are not really. Each step needs to be done. You
must follow this to an exact tee, no cheating, and no exceptions to
the rule. So find something in
your life that totally tops your number ten list
for things you look back on and go, 'Oh shit was that mind bending
cool and wonderful, squared'! Fixate on that thing that is a ten with
a double bullet in your cap, and pretend it is all around you. When I
did this, I used my times at the Atlantic City beaches in 1969, when
Ziggy and I enjoyed swims, and talks together; and had a really cool
time. This is not done over and over as the next step item I talk
about needs to be done. This instead is done but once, but you keep
doing it until you almost feel a tingling sensation,from the happy
feelings pulsating throughout you. If you do this right, and wasn't
born in prison or hell, and find the right thing in your life to
remember; you will get that divine blissful feeling of ecstasy, and
with out using stupid sixty hippie drugs to get there. Once you reach
the end of step-1, we move onto step two.
STEP
TWO OF FOUR:
This
is where you operate a two-part instruction system that may seem
ridiculous and stupid. Following it precisely however; is key to your
success in becoming a skilled user of Fascitar. Choose a person or
place that you wish to visit. Yes, I told you this would seem to be a
lot like step-1. It isn't. It needs to be followed very carefully.
You need to do it ten times, so don't make the daydream real long
with a million twists and turns like in some James Bond thriller.
Keep it reasonably simply. Visualize your spirit essence sort of
oozing out of your body as if an elephant were to step on a very
large tube of toothpaste. After this, and have your road map clear in
your mind, begin your journey. Remember this must be run like a tape
in your mind, and the precise number of ten repetitions is pivotal
for making this work. When I used to do this after my mom brought
home this wild information from her office, I would choose a person
to visit and tell them to call me on the telephone. I did this with
two people, and they both called me. This is real folks, not some
parlor trick game. Don't mess with this unless you truly want to
prove to yourself that life and death is a big hoax, and that your
true self is not contained in your current physical housing or shell,
(body). So whatever it might be, keep it about 30-90 seconds long,
but concentrate hard, and don't mock this thing, because if you do it
correctly and take it seriously, you'll be in for the shock of your
life that you don't need any fucking illegal drugs like LSD or any of
it, to take mind bending trips outside of ordinary reality, and see
the results even, should you wish to, as did I. Again I stress that
you need to do this ten times, not 8, not 9, not 11, not 12, BUT
TEN TMES! Once
you reach the end of step-2, we move onto step three.
STEP
THREE OF FOUR:
This
also is a rote item, where you must do the following thing, exactly
6 TIMES.
This is where you command your astral body, silently in your mind, to
leave you in several hours, and go and do what you just imagined,
whatever that my have been. You are totally free to change that up
each time you practice this procedure, but you must stay with this
exact 'trip' in each individual practice session. You are free to
command your astral-body to leave you and go on that
imagined-journey, in 3 hours, or 2, or 4, or whatever you personally
feel comfortable with, but the idea is that you need an hour to fall
asleep and be asleep physically, minimum, and then, depending on if
you are a light sleeper who never sleeps without waking up much past
3 hours, you need to adjust the timing to your own personal needs and
physical habits, based on your sleep habits, badder weakness, and
other situations. Once
you reach the end of step-3, we move onto step four.
STEP
FOUR OF FOUR:
This
is that magic part that I will give you from a lot of personal
experience. It won't be found in any mystery-texts from Mayan ruins
to the mountains of Tibet, or anywhere on this planet. I promise you
that. Most if not all people who succeed in this occult exercise,
will wake up into a waking-freeze state. Your muscles freeze up when
you dream, because if they didn't, you would have a high probability
of injuring yourself in your body while having nightmares, at various
points of your life. Some people can have limited mobility as they go
in-between dream and waking states, and many a spouse has the black
eye to prove that, unless wife dear or hubby boy is using the excuse
to belt his or her significant other and get away with it. Still, all
joking aside; I'll move on. This exercise will eventually cause you
to wake up asleep. This is when your original trip that you may or
many not remember with your conscious mind, has ended, but you now
are in 100% absolute control over a new trip and dream, and you can
enter hyperspace from that point, or move off the physical
hyperspace, and onto the ASTRAL-PLANE (the Purgatory). You can do
this at will, and you will have no trouble whatsoever doing this, IF
that is, you are aware of what is happening to you at this magical
point, and can properly take control and keep calm, because numerous
things will happen to most people who do this, and end up awake in a
dream in their bed. While awake in this dream, you will see your room
clearly, and it will appear to move in two parts, almost like
windshield wipers in a car. You also will hear a buzzing wine type of
sound, that is almost nauseating. You may feel your heart go faster,
and then just stop abruptly, but this is a pure illusion. You don't
need to have a beating heart, to be dreaming. A doctor will disagree,
but they cannot grasp the higher stuff that is being talked about in
these instructions. My point however to all of this is that you need
to get past the fear. You will experience a blast of fear like
nothing you can imagine, because mortal life is all we remember when
we are inside of it, and we think we are dying or dead in this wild
new condition, along with sounds and visions that become very scary
to even the biggest cons in the prison yards. They fear dying just
like all of you do. But
you MUST GET BEYOND THAT FEAR
to make the Fascitar work for you. This is the really powerful part
and step, because getting to the mountaintop so to speak is great,
but not if after we get there, someone steals our shoes and our coat
and we must turn back and go home. When you reach the point where you
can wake up frozen, and then instead of commanding your higher self
(astral-body) to go somewhere, which in truth nothing ever really
goes anywhere, as we are not even here to begin with; but don't try
tackling that crap right now folks; but when you reach that point,
this is when you need to just will yourself and see yourself on the
ASTRAL-PLANE. I don't even will myself there first and then to any
particular interaction there in the purg. I will myself from my bed,
straight into the great capitol city of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, or
(HEAVEN) by your religious systems. Now I am not saying that doing
this won't totally alter your life. Even big Oprah Winfrey knows that
it does, and had a lady on her show, back when she had her show on
network-television, in the middle nineteen-nineties. She'll remember
this lady if you ask her about this, and then show her these words of
Fascitar. I know 95% of my audience are big shots who know her well.
Go ahead, put me to the test, and see if I fail your credibility
meter!
Since
the fourth day in June, in 1983, at 10:30 Post Meridian, I have had
my mysterious glandular and choking problems. I have given my word
and made a deal to not go all the way and stop the process of proof,
as I call it, that the great TAWF did all that they did to me, as
long as I am permitted to survive the latest antics of the
Milituforce. If they want these blogs to stop all together, I am
willing to do that as well, even though they go on persecuting me and
ruining my life to the day I die. Today I will find out if they are
willing to go along with this deal. They did not go along with that
deal, so now, the 20-20 census will wipe out humanity with huge
secrets told officially to this dam government,Sheriff Mascara
sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It
was no fun at all, being kept by the two zoo-keeping wardens, Ann
King and her daughter Dawn-Marie.
But I lived through this hell on top of my physical agony and other
Otammic-Milituforce drama and trauma, and here I am today, living in
Fort Pierce, Florida, and still alive and breathing, the gods
willing. The minute they are not willing, this is when we all kiss
the mud, bite the dust, and meet the Queen, in more ways than one,
and without any TV repairs, or visits to northeast Philadelphia. WOW
THAT, great awesome Macy Bunch! And a big JEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE
too. I was shocked that ann turned on me, but blood is thicker than
water, and Frank Lombardo appears to be right all along. I was
brought up with a mother who didn't put much stock on 'family'. A lot
of people pay homage and lip service to their so-called ideas. I do
not wander or vacillate from my basic truths and principles. Not a
brag folks, and if anything, maybe it is a curse for me. I don't care
about anything, and at this point, wish I could move into an entirely
new life and forget this ever happened at all. I swear to all that is
holy, that this is the truth. Dawn really did in fact, bring it one.
We all know that. Hopefully now, a cosmic justice will punish her for
hurting an already tormented soul so badly, after I did no more than
favor after favor for this wretched entity, that passed herself off
for a human being.
I have had a lot
of noise assaults all day. This ranges from continual doors by these
asshole roaches across from me, motorcycle scum turds gunning bikes
up and down the street near my window, and a lot more. Also, I have
had word disappearing computer hacks, error screen pop up hacks on my
TWB APP, and other annoyances and harassment's done technologically
against me. Also, my health is under the weather from all the stress
and death attacks of all of this, as if you care at all, Sheriff
Mascara, sir, of Saint Lucie County, Florida, USA Earth Sol Milky Way
Galaxy, (FLUSAESMWG).
To
quote Diana, “Waterfalls
are so awesome”.
I
wish I could die in the fucking electric chair, so terribly badly!
Some
sweet day, we;ll be together, lightning my awesome TQ!But for right
now, I need to boot off an don, as the fuckiGN jerk off dirt bag
enemies have discombobulated my Open Office Spell Check program
again, like what else is fucking new?
I
MUST BE THE MOST FUCKING COCK SUCKING IMPORTANT ''NOBODY'' ON THIS
PLANET.
IF I WAS SO TOTALLY UNIMPORTANT TO THESE POWERFUL WORLD OWNERS, THEY
WOULD BE PAYING A LOT MORE ATTENTION TO THEIR OWN MISERABLE ROTTEN
SICK TWISTED FUCKING LIVES, THAN BE WORRYING ABOUT GOOD
OLD FUCKING PITIFUL NOBODY MARK WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN MOHR,
24-7-365.2422!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SINCE THIS IS NOT WHAT IS GOING ON,
THEN THIS NOBODY CRAP, IS NOT REALITY. JUST BECAUSE NONE OF THE REAL
NOBODY'S KNOW OF ME, MEANS DIDDLY SQUAT. No one alive can know what
being me is all about. What I have seen around me would dwarf seeing
a fleet of UFO ships surrounding the planet and dropping down hot
fudge sundae ice cream cups from the great and powerful Kate's
Abseacon Dairy Queen, of 1997 Pleasantville, New Jersey,
USA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I kid you not, kind ladies and gentlemen.
Well, I am just about to CROSS OVER. Not from Astral to Physical or
vice versa. I speak of the 6 figure blog page hits. I want to thank
my few readers around this globe for putting me over that line in the
sand. It is probably meaningless, but I just wanted to live long
enough to see it. Now I can go in my mother fucking sleep peacefully,
YO BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEE!
OCTOBER
30, 2015,
FRIDAY
EVENING AT 7:12,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 74 DEGREES FNHT.
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 71%, IT IS FEELING 77.
WINDS
ARE NNE AT 3, WITH GUSTS TO 12.
TODAY
TEMP RANGE-----(H-82/L-68).
I
WAS SO SCARED THAT DAY IN MAY, WHILE YOU'RE FAVORITE GAME
YOU'D PLAY. AS YOUR 1-2-3, KEPT SIGNALLING ME THAT YOU'RE THERE. I
DIDN'T SEE JUST HOW, OR WHAT I HAD. AND INSTEAD I GOT SO MAD. I TOOK
OUT THE PHONE, AND WAS CUT OFF ALONE, AND I MADE MY BABY
SAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM SO SO SO SORRY, MY WONDERFUL LOVELY
BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING.
UPDATED By WeatherBug Meteorologist, Tim Barnes
UPDATED 12 AM EDT, May 2, 2015
There
was no technology like this back in 1983, YO!!!!
LET
IT SHINE, LET IT SHINE, LET IT SHINE.
ALL
STROBELIGHTS OF MINE.
WE'RE
GONNA' LETTEM' SHINE.
JUST
IN THE NICK OF TIME,
THEY'RE
GONNA' REALLY SHINE.
I
MAY NOT BE DOING FINE
MY
BOX'LL BE MADE OF PINE,
LET
IT SHINE, LET IT SHINE, LET IT SHINE.
I
GOT A THING TO SAY,
THERE'S
GONNA' BE SOME HELL TA' PAY.
I
GOT A THING TO SAY,
THIS
COULD REALLY WRECK YOUR DAY.
I
MAY BE WITHOUT A DIME,
AND
MY LIFE MAY BE FULL OF SLIME.
LET
IT SHINE, LET IT SHINE, LET IT SHINE.
BLACKEN
MY EYE WILL YA, SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
BLACKEN
MY EYE WILL YA, SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
BLACKEN
MY EYE WILL YA, SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
BLACKEN
MY EYE WILL YA, SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
BLACKEN
MY EYE WILL YA, SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
BLACKEN
MY EYE WILL YA, SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
BLACKEN
MY EYE WILL YA, SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
BLACKEN
MY EYE WILL YA, SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
BLACKEN
MY EYE WILL YA, SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
BLACKEN
MY EYE WILL YA, SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
BLACKEN
MY EYE WILL YA, SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
BOY
OH BOY OH BOY, MASHELL AND MOOMY DEAEST. LIKE FREAKING W---O---W,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!
Whether
shopping for a home or a car or a giant TV set; or looking for
symbolic parallels to life's many mysteries; seek and we will find. I
don't say that. The gods say that, or the greatest of all of them,
Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle. I'd never ask you to just listen to my
ideas or words. Open up the freaking bible!!!
  |
NO
SIR; H-A-C-K-E-D----INTERNET!!!!
Maybe
it's your browser, YO. And then again, maybe it's your knees;
Mark Wayne Mohr. Actually my lovely goddess Gina didn't say
''maybe''. She knew when we were playing
BABYSITTER that day at the hotel I used to work at in 1984 and into
early 1985, The McIntosh Motor Inn of Mount Laurel, New Jersey, USA,
that it was my puny weak body giving out as she pushed against me,
and I went straight into the wall. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Just
in case you don't yet know, sure there is a god almighty and there is
a Satan-devil. But god ain't white bearded, a guy, or sitting on a
dam fucking throne with some asshole on each side of 'him'. Satan the
devil has no pitch fork, no horns, and definitely, give me a fucking
break, NO TAIL! His only tail is that dumb tale. This power exists,
and it is real. It is not some silent dead cosmos out there. This
force is cosmos, it has two sides to its coin, and it chooses
different players inside itself to play all sorts of wild incredible
games with. BUTTTTTT, when it is all said and done;
from
nuclear war, to meteor strikes wiping out large animals sixty-five
million years ago, and again with that 65number,
but
all of it, GAMES---GAMES---GAMES;
AND
HERE IS ANOTHER GAME, called symbolism!!!!!!!!!!!!
GUESS—-GUESTS---GAMES---SARAH
KRASSLE---ESS,
or the great and powerful (GAP) Exploratronic
Supermind
Society!!!!!!!!!!
YOU
KNOW THAT STUPID FUCKING BIPOLAR TV COMMERCIAL THAT SHOWS THAT
BUTTWIPE DUDE CRYING AND LAUGHING?
IN MY MOTHER FUCKING DAY, HAVING
NORMAL EMOTIONS WAS NOT SOME CRIME THE WAY IT IS TODAY.
NOW WE ARE ALL DEMANDED AND COMMANDED TO BE JUST LIKE MISTER
MOTHER FUCKING ASSHOLE SPOCK ON STAR TREK, AND
I AM HERE TO TELL YOU, IT AIN'T NATURAL,
AND IT IS CAUSING ALL OF THIS MOTHER FUCKING SHIT TO BE GOING
NUTS, ALL OVER THIS FUCKING SCREWED UP GLOBE, RIGHT
DOWN TO AMERICA'S GUN VIOLENCE SPREE OF THE PAST 20
YEARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
©
BOM 2006-2015 MARK WAYNE MOHR
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
Life
stopped for me a long time before Trump's dam Castle Casino crushed
my life to shit. I cannot in good conscience blame my distant cousin
for this. But I can blame him for some things that he did do to me,
and Steve told me a few things before he left this world for Tricky
Teeteetville!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'd rather just keep my mother
fucking mouth shut for right now, Sheriff Mascara sir.
YOU
ARE READING THE AFTER MORIANITY PROJECT
BLOG
BOOK, TITLED,
The
Bum
Classification
WHAT
WAS SPOKEN ABOVE IS JUST THAT SIMPLE, AND WITH OR WITHOUT RED COLOR
COLORADO JOHN HENNINGSEN. IT ALSO, TO QUOTE THE GREAT DENNIS SNYDER 9
TIMES OVER, “IS
JUST REALITY, SON!!!!!!!!!!!
And whether or not it MATTERS, or doesn't MATTER; don't let them
touch, huh Cuzz Don, back in August of 2009!!!!!!!!
Working for Amazon Sounds Utterly Soul Crushing [Updated]
When
I lived in Quakertown, Pennsylvania, USA, as a child; I had powerful
dreaming interactions with lightning, at 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 that 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, and these 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.
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 life, forever and ever. A
(WD-HACK) was repaired!!!
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 winds blow 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 jackpot by day the signs don't swim beware
Listen
hard with all your ear why hear ye not the cry
Plastic
pleasures win their 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
And
then there was the other fucking shit, in that wild late October 1986
nightmare. The visit to see my mom's brother, Stuart Huntington Mason
(my uncle), and so much more that it would turn my stomach to twenty
ulcers if I kept on dwelling and telling, kind folks; so let me stop
or it will be reach for the mop!!!!!!!!! YUK. Those were the days
when Lightning Goddess Diana would literally follow me everywhere I
went, turning lights off at night, and even on by day. Just ask Steve
Winn, of the Golden Nugget. I'll bet he still remembers that time, at
his once owned Atlantic City Casino high rise parking lot, back in
the middle nineteen eighties.
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
AKA
MOUNTAINPEN'S AMP
NO
ATTACHED LOUD SPEAKERS NEEDED!
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, and a
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 obscurity and
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 to 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 I am just 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 that 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 the game
of 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 then, “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 lot folks 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 bizarre looking tunnel shaped hallway. Hey, George Strait,
YO; NEED
I SAY MORE”?
If
anyone on Planet Earth knows, and has the ability to verify my true
story, ALL OF IT; it is the UNITED STATES FREAKING COPYRIGHT OFFICE
DOWN
IN WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA; BRO!!!I suppose for the past six
years, I would need to change this to up
at the Copyright Office.
ENDLESSNESS,
NO; END TRANSMISSION!
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