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HAPPY
BIRTHDAY OLD DAYS AMERICA!
Contact
me
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My blogsAbout me
When
you open your eyes underwater, do you ever worry that you'll
drown?
Well,
I did drown in 1995, in South Atlantic City. Remember, I am the
one in 1984 from Highland Avenue.
To
this day, I will never know.
To
this day, I will never know.
To
this day, I will never know.
To
this day, I will never know.
To
this day, I will never know.
To
this day, I will never know.
To
this day, I will never know.
To
this day, I will never know.
To
this day, I will never know.
To
this day, I will never know.
To
this day, I will never know.
To
this day, I will never know.
Chapter
136-B, 136-A
My
word office system has been mother fucking hacked to shitsapookna
and shit, folks.
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Chapter
136-B and 136-A
My
word office system has been mother fucking hacked to shitsapookna and
shit, folks.
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OR MAYBE, JUST LOTS OF SUPER MOTHER
FUCKING HACKING, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
After
all this mother fuckiGN shit, I am getting extremely god dam spaced
out; lads and lassies!!!!!!!! Still, some things do not change, like
the incredible beauty of a waterfall, or for that matter, of my
lovely baby-blond lightning goddess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
©
BOM 2006-2015 MARK WAYNE MOHR
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
She
used to say, and I quote; “If you don't like cats and dogs and
kids, there's got to be something wrong with you somewhere”. I am
speaking of the world's great and now sadly late, disco diva, Mizz
Donna Gaines Summer!
You
fucking missed me, Jane Weedsthistles. So AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA, MIKE
MCNULTY, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
even
without the copyright, Tom Glenn, my arranger, was paid in full by
me, as work for hire, or whatever they call it. This music and
arrangement is all legally owned by me, and is legally my property,
whether copyrighted or not; as long as Tom
Glenn is available to go to court, and witness this for me someday.
Should that ever miraculously happen; then the
fucking press will no longer be able to call me a mother fuckiGN
crackpot; oh GAP Sheriff, and GAP Mizz
Bondi-AG, YO!!!!!!!!!!! Keep up the great work, Sheriff, sir.
Enjoyed watching you on the county TV cable channel today. See you
next week at your office, hopefully!!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But
it was the arrangement that was stolen!!!
That
simple little romper room fucking ditty, was a powerful tune, just as
was Love Is For Carpenters, AKA for a shorter title, “LOIS FOCA”.
Oh those powerful highway houses of total horror, Space Space, and
wonderful lady who came to see me up at Harvest, back in the spring
time of 2010.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Our
love was true, our love was rare
No
other love could ever compare
Now
that you're gone
My
spirits are low
And
baby baby baby, I love you so.
©
1977 Mark Wayne Mohr
Re-copyrighted
as a compilation music project in June of 1980, from my apartment at
1802 Robin Hill, 4th
and Preston, Voorhees Township, NJ-USA.
DAY
AND NIGHT, I'VE GOT TH ELIGHT, A VIGINTILLION WATTS SO BRIGHT!!! A
CHAIN OF SOUNDS THAT BREAK THE BOUNDS, OF MORTAL MAN, WITH LIMIT
HEIGHT.
WELL,
MAYBE THAT'S STRETCHING TH E TRUTH A BIT, YO PEOPLE FOR CRISSAKE!
Dude,
this is so totally not fucking cool, or duddess. Whoever you are all
out there in the world of controlled somnambulism, Exploratronic
Supermind Society, Dream-Travelers, WHATEVER---ROB
ANDREWS (RAW)
oh
boy oh boy, mommy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SHEEEEEEEEEEEIT,
you and your great coworker Patty Fascitar Hollister,
from 'sharkville',
and then, all over the dam place!!!
Working for Amazon Sounds Utterly Soul Crushing [Updated]
THIS
IS NOT TH EBOOK OF
HELL
IS
FIXED IN
STONE AND
FIRE
AND
I PROMISE YOU THAT, FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AND
IT IS NOT MOTHER FUCKING
AUGUST
22, 2015,
THURSDAY
NIGHT AT 1:47,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 91 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY------(H-93/L-72).
WIND
IS A STEADY 9-ESE.
HUMIDITY
IS 59%, FEELING LIKE 102.
EITHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It
is however:
OCTOBER
10, 2015,
SATURDAY
ELTON ALL RIGHT NIGHT AT 10:13,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 74 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY------(H-88/L-73).
WIND
IS W AT 3, GUSTING TO 12.
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 97%, FEELING LIKE 78.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAA-ITE
OR BLACK, LOVELY DAUGHTER; THIS WAS NO DICE HERE, JUST WAY TOO
HOT!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK THE DAM GODS AUGUST IS 'FUCKIGN' GONE.
Thank
you so very much, 'Atlantic Queen'
for coming into my ''dreams'' last night. I am going to fire myself
now and enjoy a good Strongbow drink!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HELLO
THERE, YOU WONDERFUL PLACE.
AHA-AHA-AHA,
MIKE!!!!!!!!!!!!
The continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"
Saturday, October 10, 2015
CHAPTER 134-135-A-B-------------HELL IS FIXED IN STONE AND FIRE
(HIFISAF)
ALSO
TITLED DUE TO MAJOR HACKING, CHAPTER 136-A
This
is the most horrible fucking Thanksgiving Death Siege of my entire
life, it is every day with no let up at all, and no one to help me,
so I must get ready to run away in the middle of the night with
whatever fits into my car, just as I did before in December of 2009,
and typed those horrible blogs before leaving. Dawn would have killed
me if I had remained there in Hammonton, NJUSAESMWG any longer, and
the enemies here in Florida will do likewise, should I be mother
fucking foolish enough to remain here.
All
was quiet from midnight until half past nine or so. Then all hell
broke mother fucking loose on a Saturday morning with these PHA scum
bag mother fucking enemies, Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara,
sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Loud hammering and drilling power tool sounds
that could wake the mother fucking dead, started up and lasted a
short while. But after it stopped, ten minutes later or less, a nasty
fucking FIRE ALARM went off and is still going off while I await
ENGINE-LADDER-15 or whoever may come out here soon, hopefully. This
went off at ten minutes before ten. It now is 10:02.
I
am rapidly dying, and I may not make the drive north back to home;
but I'd rather mother fucking die trying, kind Sheriff, or unkind;
whatever the reality may be with us, as how can I ever know the truth
of anything for sure, when it is being fucking kept away from me by
the Relentless Kibosh Club. Now some jerk off slammed a fucking door
very loud out in my hallway at 10:05, Sheriff sir. I feel the PHA
hates me for complaining about their unfair practices, and is
persecuting me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I of course said that I FEEL, as
again, how can I know or prove any of this? At 10:06, the alarm is
deactivated, Sheriff, sir. A ladder Truck is outside, not Engine 15,
and I cannot read the number on its side from my windows. The only
thing keeping me alive in this state of extremely ill fucking health
along with death pouncing fucking persecution, Sheriff Sir, and Mizz
Attorney General, Pam Bondi of Florida ma'am; is sheer total fucking
determination and will to fight these diseased mother fuckiGN total
dirt bag jerk off Milituforce/Trumpite enemies, who have destroyed
and tortured me and my pathetic fucking life, for more than three
cunt lapping decades now, YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
©
BOM 2006-2015 MARK WAYNE MOHR
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
KEEP
YOUR BIG MOUTH SHUT NOW, DONNA!!!
She
used to say, and I quote; “If you don't like cats and dogs and
kids, there's got to be something wrong with you somewhere”. I am
speaking of the world's great and now sadly late, disco diva, Mizz
Donna Gaines Summer Sudano!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There
are 1-2-3 lovers, there are 1-2-3 callers, there are 1-2-3
lighthouses with strobing flashes. But there is only one house in
1972 with the scariest fucking set of house stairs on Planet Earth.
Not because of their architectural design or any other normally
occurring item that would otherwise pertain to a stair case in a
home. It was the sheer anger and the frightening chases up those
stairs. And because I know too much, it looks like MC and all her dam
friends have decided to totally stealthfully wipe me out and kill me.
Boy oh boy oh boy, Mommy and Mashell. YYYYYYYYY me, Jimmy 84 © 'S???
WHERE
ARE ME' BUCCANEERS, YOU'RE ASKING LADY????????????? SHEEEEEEEEEEEIT,
THEY'RE UNDER ME' BUCKIN' HAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HOLD
ONTO YOUR MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' RAINDEER, SARAH CALLIO AND SARAH CLAUS.
I AM HEADING UP TO TRENTON NEW JERSEY IN 1997, TO THE DIVISION OF
MOTOR VEHICLES (DMV) TOCHECK ON GETTING ME A FEW VICTORIA CALLIO
LICENSE PLATES FOR MY 113 HARVARD AVENUE NABES ACROSS FROM ME, THE
SNOTSY STOZNEY GANG AND PRESIDENT OF TH EFRANK SINATRA SENIOR FAN
CLUB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KARGE-KARGE-ATLANTIC CITY KARGE. AND HORSE
BUSINESSES THAT CATCH FIRE UNLESS THEY PAY UNDER THE TABLE FEES, TO
CITY INSPECTORS, AS DO ALL ATLANTIC CITY BUSINESSES. PROBABLY
CORRUPTION IS IN ALL INNER CITIES AND EVEN BIG CITIES ALL THROUGHOUT
AMERICA, ANN KING, LOVER
OF THE POWER STRUCTURES OF THIS ROTTEN AWFUL WAYV PLACE FROM
FUCKING DICK LICKING TOTAL DAM HELLFIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
To
this day, I will never know what
Lenny McKinnon, the U.S. Copyright Office, and some others, all
pulled off; after I went to that music attorney by the name of
Malcolm Rosenberg, early in the autumn
of 1980, or somewhere around there. How can anyone ever really
KNOW anything? Ziggy back in July of 1969
taught me this powerful shit on the beaches of, yes you guessed it,
Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG. He made me think quite
fucking long and hard about how none of us can know, and be truly
sure of many many things, that we may think we know, and feel we
know; but we really and honestly do not know, not
100% know. Mind-Gravitation is the
biggest proof of this. If you could KNOW with 000000 doubt in your
MIND, that you could step off of a cliff and not have to fall once
your mind totally sees that as truth, you will levitate and indeed,
not fall. Mind is gravity. This is what
broke out of the void infinity into Plank or the ASTRAL-PLANE,
a realm that is so huge, that it makes our universe, and all of
cosmos beyond plank out here in the hyperspace, be but a tiny little
pea pod, that is cooking in the Pacific Ocean pot. The
reason for this has to do with ratio,
and not the ripped off Exim-Ratio from
my 1994 book, “The Permission Barrier”.
A
lovely and cheery sunrise and wonderful day is a very nice thing, and
people take these nice things for mother fucking total granted. If
Webster and his mighty dictionary needed to ever have just one more
meaning and definition for the reverse, or an antonym for cheer and
happy; that additional meaning would simply say, “THE
LIFE OF ONE MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN”!!!!!!!!!!!!
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People;
I need a bridge, so I can cross over and out of
mother fucking hell. Since my dam daughter thinks this is all
funny, and a big GTNOTG game; maybe someone else will take it more
seriously, and offer to help. I do not have to will any particular
person my sea charts of the seven sunken
Spanish treasure galleons, left to me by my father in 1976.
I just figured that it is her heritage and I am dead so I won't need
them. But Sheriff sir, I can re-will this to you, if you would
be nice to me and help me fight whatever and whoever is killing me,
kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
am going to begin telling really mind bending fucking shit to anyone
in this world out here who wants to listen. I also am going to have
my Staples-Guru over to help me promote this blog so I can get some
real true non agent viewers. Oh yes mother fuckers who hate me so
much out in this cosmos; I already knew this assault on me was far
from over, as the numeric date is all bad for me, filled with too
many repeating digital symbology of zeros and ones, you know; you're
not fucking stupid, and neither is Darius Rapper dude Evans;
10-10-20-15,
and what is left after that cancels off of the fucking equation, Sir
Einstein; but the great HAWK, Jebez Shadows, the great 25, the TRAVEL
AGENT, yeah, from 08-15-1986 straight into eternal
fucking HELL! Oh well, IT
IS WHAT IT IS, on
or off of Norris Avenue in Atco, New Jersey,
USAESMWG-134!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Also even
without this digital date, as I see it; all twelve months with
repeating day and month numbers such as 2-2,
5-5, 10-10, are all usually if not
always, very very very mother fucking
BATBAR, my
lovely Ingrid, from
1984!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But
if you want to get on the topic of dates; just why does the medical
community insist on giving me appointments on days of consequence,
such as birthdays of those who are part of all of this, and days that
have significance from August 15 to May 1? Simple answer really, as
long as we keep in mind the Ziggy
1969 Beach Factor, or how he said we
never can know anything absolutely. Maybe not in those exact words,
but he said it, folks. He would keep repeating with quite a good deal
of speech emphasis, and I'll quote, “You don't KNOW nothin'!!! So
keeping this in mind, I will tell you why this fucking shit is going
on with appointments, both with my physical as well as psych places.
Hey out of 365 days in a year, and only ten of these or less, being
major dates that have significance in my life big huge ultra hyper
fucking time; gimme' a break here, or cut me one, if Margie Leo was
involved, from back at Caldor-113 Store, in November of 1985, YO
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You
missed me, dirt bag slutty Jane Waterwitch Bitch Notfondau
onetinybit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HA HA HA HA HA, MIZZ
SLEAZEWEEDSDISEASE!!!!!!!! A few blogs back, you saw a bunch of
555555555 numbers, and no explanation.
Obviously, I forgot, and just wanted to see my
FIVE NUMBERS all printed out, so as to
compensate for the bad mother fucking magnetics, caused me, by
Jane Waterwitch Bitch. But yes, she
got me, to quote fucking arm popper gorgeous fourteen year old
Keisha from back in the autumn of 1999, gouuuuuuuuuuud.
But
if this was all there was to my medical story, I could stop right now
and rest totally easy. Changing labs, changing doctors, I never told
you, but one time I have this wrong and that wrong. Then it is
another something. Then the original shit that was supposed to be
wrong with me, is just gone, poof, like Harry Potter fucking magic.
No one likes dealing with people like me who are magical. I have to
suffer through this fuckiGN nightmare, and no one wants to ever get
involved with it, or help in any way. Why? Because people are mean
nasty mother fucking jerk offs who need to all burn in the fires of
hell. First I am going to die from some dangerous high sugar diabetic
condition. Then I am bleeding inside and dying from that. Then my
blood pressure is so high that they told me they don't know why I am
walking upright. The last test I took, all of these things are
totally normal, and now I need to be tested to see if I have HEP, and
have my fatty liver enzymes checked out more thoroughly. Six months
from now, when retested, that will all come back totally normal. The
only three reasons that I feel so physically fucked up, is endless
decades of harassment and torture and persecution, as well as being
given nothing but lies and run arounds, by lawyers, and doctors, and
others, and also; there is big truth to
psychosomatic bullshit. When doctors tell you that you are very sick,
you begin to believe it and feel it. When you ignore them, they go
away, the conditions anyway. Soon, I will just run away and
leave these fucking doctors in the dust. I have buried a lot of
doctors in my life, and will go on burying a lot fuckiGN more of
them, Sheriff Mascara, kind sir, YO!!!!!!!!
The
entire medical community is one big mother fucking sham. If you
research everything they tell us not to eat or drink, we would starve
to death in two weeks, or really, before that ever could happen,
within 80 hours tops, most likely less time, we would die of thirst!
I know people who smoked and drank heavily for
100 years, and are healthy and active to this day; with their Al
Roker Smuckers jars in their hands, dancing away to the funky music,
of the late seventies disco craze. They
don't move quite as swiftly as they used to, but I knew a lot of
health conscious folks who jogged every day and ate like perfect
little angels, and they died at 35 and 45 and 55. When it is
your time to do anything; getting punched in the nose for the first
time, your first kiss, getting the dam measles, dying; all
things are just hyperspace events, and are locked into reality.
When it is your time, it is your time.
If it isn't, you could not die if you wanted to more than anything in
th e dam ass world. Also, you cannot add a second and prevent death
past your time to click into it. Events are like the 38 little
roulette slots, and you and I are sort of like the little marble ball
going around and then dropping into one slot. If you enjoy your fast
food and your candy, and a big fat heart killing juicy loaded up
burger, then by the goddess, enjoy it. You cannot cheat death or
invite death. It is a ball and a slot. When the click falls into the
space-time-mind, that';s fucking it. Have a real nice one on me, over
at the mother fuckiGN great Walmart Store, YO
peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Our
love was true, our love was rare
No
other love could ever compare
Now
that you're gone
My
spirits are low
And
baby baby baby, I love you so.
©
1977 Mark Wayne Mohr
When
it was my time to write that song, I wrote that song, back in 1977.
When it was time for future Congressman Rob Andrews to sing my two
country tunes in 1980, he did. When it was his time to later become
our wonderful Jersey Congressman, he joined the great powerful crew
from Washington, and did so. If however, none of this had been the
time for these things to have happened, then they just would not have
gone down!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! John Henningsen from Colorado, said it
all back in 1968-1970. He used to tell me upon numerous occasions,
“Mark, it's just that simple”!
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu000204016
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1980
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Public Catalog
Copyright
Catalog (1978 to present)
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Tommy
Edison and the Bright Ideas, Patty
Parsons and the OTHER non Atlantic Harrah City bright ideas,
and then came Mark Wayne Mohr and the Dynamite
Sound. Then a few years later; sound was
used to dynamite my entire fucking life; with or without any
extra kicks and help, from frequency modulation radio stations
in Atlantic City, such as WAYV,
or Trenton ones, whose call letters, I forget presently; huh
GAP Kevin Willis? How do you sleep nights knowing all of this went
down around me, Dick Wolf and © Office lady from 2008??????????
Folks,
maybe it whizzed right over your heads, but it didn't mine, BRAH! I
know that every mother fuckiGN time the MILI-2-FORCE awakens me
around 2-5 in the morning, with a major super telephone sound attack,
in total violation of my human, civil, and
constitutional rights to pursue happiness without major governmental
persecution; EVERY GOD DAM MOTHER
'FUCKIGN' TIME IT HAPPENS, the rest of
the entire day, is major SUPER BOTBAR,
major mother fuckiGN SUPER HARASSMENT AND
PERSECUTION, and normally, major
continued utility attacks off and on during that day; with TV,
the computer, electricity, and what have you, YO YO YO MY DAM ASS
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
RED
ALERT-----RED ALERT-----RED ALERT
RED
ALERT-----RED ALERT-----RED ALERT
RED
ALERT-----RED ALERT-----RED ALERT
RED
ALERT-----RED ALERT-----RED ALERT
RED
ALERT-----RED ALERT-----RED ALERT
I
asked the mother fucking GAP ASTRAL PLANE magical cat some questions
last night, and got some great answers. I am only sharing two of them
on this blog for right now, however, for reasons that best serve me
and my well being and general health, not ''break-down''!!!
Hey
Gawky Gaukauk:
Why
am I under this assault day after day after day without any let up
for weeks now, ever since that day I went to my nut-job-clinic and
was persecuted with major aerial shit out of nowhere, right to this
current day of nine October, 2015???????
Hey
Mountainpen, PCN-871.
My
match-list of items in my GAWNUM book for PCN-871, read as follows:
TRINIDAD,
JOHN KING, MARK MOHR, PRECIOUS, GOLD FATE, COOLEY HALL LOBBY SINGER
DREAM, HAMPTONS
Hey
Gawky Gaukauk:
Who
is behind the two major utility assaults on me today, Friday, 9
October, 2015; the computer being knocked off cold, and the telephone
being knocked totally out around three in the morning, 14 hours
earlier?
Hey
Mountainpen, PCN-927.
My
match-list of items in my GAWNUM book for PCN-927, read as follows:
PAULA
KING, LIFEGUARD, DREW CAREY, DAVID ROTH, CORAL REEF, CHRISTMAS,
MANHATTAN, (There are others way too hot to print, but many know
already). Laugh at me until the cows and the lighthouse Callio's all
come home, Mister Farmer; because I know, Ziggy-1969, I
know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Funny how the brain protects itself from
trauma. Not funny-ha-ha; funny, sheeeesh!!!!!!!!!!!!
In
the year 1980, ladies and gentlemen; I was every bit as totally
fucking clueless as my 15 year later coming temporary pal, Poolroy.
HELL
IS FIXED IN STONE AND FIRE
CHAPTER
135
I
was living at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments, and not until my last six
or seven weeks living at this place, in Voorhees, New Jersey,
USAESMWG; did I ever think about a gambling game called ROULETTE, or
playing it, or gambling at all. We'll get back to this in short
order.
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
SO
JUST WHAT IS THE GREAT AND POWERFUL (GAP) EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND
SOCIETY, YOU ASK ME, OH GREAT WONDERFUL FOLKS??????????
Well
for starters, the ESS is most likely everything that none of you have
ever 'dreamed' of your entire life and in your wildest craziest
fucking imaginations, YO!!!!!!!! But quite obviously, there is a lot
more to this. My mom always said to me, Really smart people are those
who can simplify the complicated things, not those who go around
making the simple stuff all complex. Folks, in my own weird mother
fuckiGN jerked off little way, I try to follow this advice from my
mom, or I think I am doing that. This is why I never try and tackle
my shit all at once, Mister Shitsapookna Microsoft, and also, why I
split stuff up as I do in my blogs, so you may feel I repeat a lot
and do lots of cut and paste work, but I do know what I am doing,
that is, if you ever really want to better understand my fuckiGN
shitsapookna, and if you don't, well, that's a whole other ballgame
for a whole dam other time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So to reiterate
again, In the year 1980, ladies and gentlemen; I was every bit as
totally fucking clueless as my 15 year later coming temporary pal,
Poolroy. I
was living at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments, and not until my last six
or seven weeks living at this place, in Voorhees, New Jersey,
USAESMWG; did I ever think about a gambling game called ROULETTE, or
playing it, or gambling at all. We'll get back to this in short
order. When
you take the information and combine it, it
was 1980, I was at 1802 Robin Hill,
and
those three numbers of (1), (8), and (0), seemed to be all over my
surrounding general proximity. 1980---1802.
Interesting how the numbers of (2) and (9) remain when you draw a
colorized visualization. But all throughout this time there, at that
apartment, while at the RPL Sound Studio in Camden, as a Tape
Duplicator, for the first part of it; and later on at the Delaware
River, at the Mac-Andrews & Forbes Licorice Plant, as a Security
Guard; my future in Atlantic City would come somehow quite
mysteriously to equalize my past in Atlantic city in the
nineteen-sixties, right up into the start of the
nineteen-seventies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The 29 number, the 27 number,
and many other things are quite powerful on the roulette game for me,
and along with number 23, these three numbers come out for me in a
major preponderance of time, and especially if I only stand or even
play a particular wheel for say 20-40 spins of that wheel. A
child can figure out why 23-27-29 are so powerful with me, and even
before I could observe the reasons for this truth all around me, it
was there nonetheless, unlike many theories of the discipline of
Quantum Physics.
Does
cosmos read your mind and then make reality all around you shift
continuously, however? Well maybe you don't believe me or just don't
fucking GWPOS want to believe me when I tell you in a loud shout that
indeed it does, and with all of us, not just me; but that is just the
way Neilson's story goes, and mine, oh great Mister Sigmund Malyeska.
As
cosmos is agreeing
with you,
mortal waking peeps tend to label this in their cultures and
societies, as GOOD
LUCK.
As cosmos is disagreeing
with you,
mortal waking peeps tend to label this in their cultures and
societies, as BAD
LUCK!!!!!!!!!!
No one knows what luck is, or destiny, or any of it, and all that
anyone can ever do is theorize, unless they have personally applied
and experienced enough fucking shitsapookna (AKA shit) in the worlds
of no Microsoft Smart Office programs; but unless people have
experienced and applied stuff in their own lives, for decades and
decades; then they will only be able to get a caged eye narrow
fucking view of truth. I on the other hand, have experienced a major
way out outlandish and bizarre life, to put it mother fuckiGN totally
mildly and super under exaggerated.
I
know that on super super days like yesterday, I can think up any
system in the world, and use playing cards for black and red or odd
and even numbers, and the cosmos reads your mind and immediately
crashes every single system that you make up, one right after the
other, in a way that if any big think tank ivy league university
would approach this study seriously, they would see that I know
things that no one else has ever had any mother fuckiGN reason to
even begin thinking or wondering about!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Speaking
of Amazon, I could easily turn these three into Amazon girls with one
quick tech-trick:
Watch
out for all mirages. The ESS can do things to lives of those who they
choose, that go beyond unconscionable Cuban-Cubed!!!!!!!!!!
ALL
SAVANTS KNOW THIS ONE, 'THE END'!!!
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