Sarah
Krassle Owns And Rules This Planet
CHAPTER
7.
There
are always major new revelations for those who are in the
RECEPTIVE-MODE, such as Mountainpen is. When I say new revelations, I
mean it, and if you don't have some smelling salts handy nearby you
in case you fall over in a faint, then stop reading this chapter in
SARAH KRASSLE OWNS AND RULES THIS PLANET!
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NOVEMBER
7, 2015,
SATURDAY
AFTERNOON AT 2:00
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 86 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H-86/L-73).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 72%, AND IT FEELS LIKE 96.
PREDICTED
HIGH TO 98, FEELING NEAR 100.
WIND
IS ESE AT 14, WITH GUSTS TO 21.
When I was
staying at Selena Dada's Rooming House, on Stenton Place, in
Atlantic City, New Jersey, in 1974, on a three day vacation by
myself; as most of you know, I met a very strange man on the
beach, right up near what I called, “Ziggy's Jetty”. This
man was the very same man that spoke to the Attorney General on
that Washington park bench, in the 'JFK', OLLIE STONE MOVIE. How I
came to know this is not important, other than it was important
enough for him to reach out to me in a similar way, because of
something that I was repressing along with several things in my
life, and this one led to why my body developed the choking
illness in the late spring time in 1983. Many Hollywood
productions have built in history markers, such as the great Henry
Fonda movie called, “12 angry Men”, where a horrible double
curse word was said by a member of the jury in this show, and no
one ever swore like that in those days, especially in any movie
that starred Henry Fonda, a very fine outstanding gentleman who
had and still has all of my respect, despite his kid, and hey, we
can't be responsible for what our dam kids do, as I know so
'perfectly clearly'; huh Mister President RMN? All you need to
know, is that I have had many ideas, about what caused this
unknown and mysterious physical condition, of June 1983. They all
have their place in logic and order based on what I knew at the
time on a conscious level, not including deeply repressed into the
subconscious memories.
I
have blogged various ideas about this man, who ever since our
encounter for a short thirty minutes or so, altered my entire
life, in larger ways than August of 1986 did; producing for me,
some magical kind of transformed enlightenment to cosmos, and
truths about singularities in general, and their effects on human
existence.
What
I did not allow myself to remember until putting an old videotape
from the Fort Pierce Goodwill Store, into my video machine,
Walmart's
cheapo of the two combo video units,
and
the name of the movie, that I never watched before, as I am not a
movie goer and only watch things decades after a movie comes out
normally, on seventy cent VHS Good Will or similar discount store
offers, is “THE RING”. As soon as I watched the first quarter
hour of it, memories shot into my mind from my split level home in
Atco, owned by Gerald Pliner, that my mom and I were renting from
February 1, 1983 until the end of September of that same year,
when we returned back to the Robin Hill apartments, at number
506,for our tween-stay at these apartments.
I
turned off the video machine and came running over to do this
blog. I am not going to sleep on this or wait for some calmer
cooler head. This is going to be told right mother fuckiGN now. My
mom had gone to bed early not feeling well, on the last Thursday
in May of 1983, as she had to go in to work the next day and
Friday's at her office were brutal, to quote her, in that time.
Something was happening that gave her a lot of extra work to do,
and it was enough to drive you to drink, to quote her again.
Fortunately, she had not began to drink yet, as that came in the
early nineteen nineties when her wonderful coworker Emily came
along, and this was no accident, any more that billionaires are
any accident, but that's all topic for other blogs on other dam
ass days, YO!!!!
THE
GREAT AWESOME TWB,
YOU GOTTA' LUVEM!
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. I sent the four songs on
one open reel tape, at a speed
of 7 and one half IPS, on a full track recording, copied onto my
RS-1500-US, open reel semi-pro mastering machine, that I bought
from the Martin Audio/Video store, in Manhattan, in May of 1980,
and was delivered to my apartment by UPS, early in the first week
in June, right before my powerful and unfathomable bizarre Lois
Foca dream-HIE-RAW! Suddenly Marcy
Levy and Robin Gibb, from the famous BEEGEE assholes, had
made a song, that was rapidly going into lower numbers, on the
Billboard Hot 100 Music Charts, called, “Help
Me”, speaking of major fuckiGN symbolism, YO. After I saw
the attorney recommended by my arranger, Mister Glenn, the song
magically seemed to get pulled off of the air, and was killed
cold; but no one ever spoke a word to me about shit, not Howard
Solomon, not Lenny McKinnon, not Malcolm Rosenberg. I would have
had this entire thing make perfect sense, if not for my repressing
the memory of something not yet happening by reference to 1980,
but three years later. Now up in late 2015, it is all clear as a
sunny day without one dam cloud in th esky.
I
was going outside with some trash to put into an outside can for
pickup, and a car drove up and before I even got past my door to
the street; a large man exited his car, gave my mailbox a huge
shove, kicking it right out of the ground. He then proceeded to
get right back into his vehicle, and he drove off; and I just
stood there like a stupid scared little fucking wuss, before there
were any wusses, if memory correctly serves me in the time tunnel
here, without any aid from Tony and Doug and other ESS-TRAVELERS!
The
joke is that in 1977, before this particular internet song-list
was used; I
had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song.
But
it was the arrangement that was stolen,
and 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. But
fuck all this shit. When I went to the street, which was
NORRISVAVENUE, to try and repair my mailbox, I realized I would be
better off digging a new and deeper hole, as the old hole was
maybe nine inches down, and it should be more like two feet for a
secure hold into the ground. Still, just like the man who said in
1996 to my mother, “I am going to kill your son and I'll kill
you too if you don't get away from my truck”, over at the
Turnersville Shopping Center Parking Lot, on 2 August, a weekday,
but back then she did not work all five weekdays; how did he know
I was her son, when I could have been any possible relation as far
as he should have been able to ascertain, from friend to coworker
to nephew to even grandson, since I look a lot younger than my
years. Still my point is that, how did this man who broke my
mailbox, fucking know how easy it would be to knock it down with a
light kick? Too many things like this are all around me all my
life, as though I am some lab rat in a huge cosmic cage and
everyone knows everything about me, like the LAW & ORDER
people seem to, and much much much fuckiGN more.
 
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile
views – 3046
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015
MY BLOGS:
Thirty
minutes later it was still light outside, and I am guessing it was
about a quarter past eight in the evening, on this final Thursday
in May, while I was living up at 134 Norris Avenue,in Atco, New
Jersey, USA, ESMWG.
I
had found a small garden spade to dig a hole, but the ground was
hard, and I also took a large cooking pan filled with hot water
outside with me, and I poured the hot water down on the ground
about two feet from where the old mailbox was standing before that
pig came along and kicked it over. When I dug my new hole and
grabbed the mailbox to put it down into it, I happened to open up
the thing and voile, and cheapo office systems that don't add the
(') on the word (voile), there was something inside of it. The
days of Roger Carey, 25 years ahead of schedule. A note was inside
of it, and I cannot absolutely remember if this dirt bag dude put
it in there quickly, or if it was in there since 2 that afternoon
when I got my mail for the day.
I
only remember two things about that note, other than in my anger I
tossed it, you know, ripping it to shreds and throwing it right
into my outside trash can, since I was standing just a couple
yards from it when this all took place at the mailbox. I remember
now, doing that, and then reburying the mailbox and kicking the
Earth around it nice and tight, and thinking to myself, maybe I
will buy a tiny amount of cement at the local Atco Hardware Store
tomorrow after dropping Mom off at the Lindenwold High Speed-line
PATCO train system, that takes her to and from work in
Philadelphia, each day. I never did, and I never had another
mischievous incident. Still, talk about the Carey's and the
mailbox, huh Mizz Winfrey? No more post cards to my mother please,
as she works way too hard to worry about your dumb show, lady!!!!
I remember
ripping the note up, and wishing I had been able to get the
license fucking tag of that car with the huge dude, who kicked
over my box, and then I was standing there listening to some farm
animals in that weird small farm across the street with all sorts
of noisy birds and animals, as the skies were darkening, and I had
thrown away the note. But I swear to the gods of the Plank Realm,
I do remember that I looked at the note I had found, as I was
ripping it up to shit, and it said something along the lines of
Marcy Levy and Robin Gibb and their “HELP ME” song from 1980,
and that I would be sorrier than shit for making trouble for the
mighty BEEGEE people. A few days later, I got sick one morning
with some kind of carbon monoxide poisoning while asleep in my
bedroom, and then that night, my throat began to not be able to
clear, and it all began from there. I wanted to tell the FBI this
story five years later, but my conscious memory was suppressed,
just like in 2008, even on 080808, I was still suppressing and was
suppressing the memories of being in my daughter's home in Suffolk
County, and seeing that horrible horrible god dam stair chase with
Roy and Patty! I had been visiting my mom's Cousin Ruth Huntington
Gottwald and her hubby Heinz, up in Babylon, on Peninsula Drive,
and then she drove her two grandchildren, Heinz and Ruth's
daughter Christine Meyers kids, Scottie and Christopher, up to the
same block that my daughter lived on. I was walking their dog on
the block, where I met a gorgeous teen blond, and then after that,
I walked in the other direction, where my daughter was outside
along a fence-line, beckoning me to come through and see her new
flashlight. I will never ever forget it, and with me, was my tape
recorder that I always had with me everywhere I went. There is a
lot more to this and it is kind of not bloggable for many reasons.
But this note in my box in 1983, almost nine years later, had a
drawing on top of the paper, and it was a giant sized ring, and I
am positive that underneath that and before my first terroristic
threat, as the second one was as many of you know, on August 2,
1996 at the shopping center parking lot, by another HUGE MAN, that
I never say, only my mom saw him, and he was about the right age,
as this dude was about 35 when I saw him, and yes, he was of
Indian descent, as in the nation of India, not Native-American.
Now tying
in this note to this movie, “THE RING”,
I have not watched the rest of the show, as I am here blogging.
But I do remember one super ultra hyper powerful gargantuan mother
fucking thing folks, and that is that the
dude from the JFK MOVIE, not really him, as in the show,
the dude playing it is the dude who plays the running coach of
Steve Prefontaine; but whoever was talking to the United States
attorney General, Kevin Costner played the role of the AG in this
movie from 1992, or whenever it was in that general time circa,
produced by Oliver Stone; and he talking to him in the exact same
way that the man of great mystery that altered my life forever as
a young lad of age nineteen and one half years, was talking to
me!!! Tieing in a major fact to all of this, is that if you took
the First Lady, Jackie Kennedy, made her a teenager, and turned
her into a huge giant, she would very much resemble the great
Sarah Krassle that came to me in that wild chain-dream experience
in December of 1969. Some fucking how, all of this dam shit ties
together, and here is a lot more. The very same forces, and walls,
and coverups, with all of this nasty rotten fuckiGN mess; are
covering up the UFO-Phenomenon, and also, are the forces operating
all my life around me, invisibly, stealthfully, and covertly,
annihilating every fact of my existence and life. They cannot kill
me because that is against the rules, but they can do unimaginable
shit to you. If you know exactly what scares each person more than
anything else in the world, and you had the power of these (HALLS
FAWCES AND WALLS), you could project an image in front of them
with a powerful device, and they will die in fear. Also, if you
manage to not die and be somehow impervious to death as I appear
to be; then kaboom, it can alter your glands in various ways,
several and I have extensively researched my findings folks, it
can appear to almost freeze or dramatically slow down physical
signs of age appearance, it can cause very dry mouth and choking
sensations, and it can cause a few other things as well, extreme
paranoia and other psychotic features that are manageable without
medication, if you know how to do it. But they can come at you in
dreams, when they no longer can come at you while awake. I am now
going to finish watching the movie, “THE RING“. My next blog
will take all of this a lot further, and THAT, I promise all of
you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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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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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu000204016
|
1980
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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.
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I
don't know about the SAR of the rings
BUTTTTTTTTTTTT,
this other ring has helped
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Oh
you rotten old stinky world!!!!!!!!!
©
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!
To
quote Diana, “Waterfalls
are so awesome”.
Some
will, some won't, only this is no made up fiction story; folks.
They
sing rings are a symbol of eternity. Well, Steve is there now,
chanting away for all I know. Have some nice green foods and enjoy
the Neo-ho-rengay Club.
Why
I brought up Steve from 1974 is my own bizz. A lot of genius jerk
offs out in this world think they have so much all figured out and
don't know fucking beer from a can of stale fucking beans.
Why
I brought up Steve from 1974 is my own bizz. A lot of genius jerk
offs out in this world think they have so much all figured out and
don't know fucking beer from a can of stale fucking beans.
Why
I brought up Steve from 1974 is my own bizz. A lot of genius jerk
offs out in this world think they have so much all figured out and
don't know fucking beer from a can of stale fucking beans.
Why
I brought up Steve from 1974 is my own bizz. A lot of genius jerk
offs out in this world think they have so much all figured out and
don't know fucking beer from a can of stale fucking beans.
Why
I brought up Steve from 1974 is my own bizz. A lot of genius jerk
offs out in this world think they have so much all figured out and
don't know fucking beer from a can of stale fucking beans.
Why
I brought up Steve from 1974 is my own bizz. A lot of genius jerk
offs out in this world think they have so much all figured out and
don't know fucking beer from a can of stale fucking beans.
Just
what did I ever do to any of these slobs, kind Sheriff sir, that I
deserve all of this 1981 Pandora's Box Treatment, fully opened with
all River-Snakes of Krassleville spewing out all over the place, and
not racing up Mister Krassle's escalator of life???????? Pay the
cable TV their rightful share, all you music celebs;
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT.
OH
GEEEEE-WILIGARS;
the mighty Doctor
Harold Camping said it all;
OH
MY. You and I don't fool the Almighty Lordess Jehovah Stacey
Krassle with our cute clever non swearing lingo. Darn means dam,
heck means hell, gash and golly are GOD, Jeese and gee and gee wiz
and gee willagars is all JESUS, Shoot and shucks is shit, fudge
and freak and fook, and a dozen others, are all FUCK, and so
forth. What; you seriously think that you are outsmarting Almighty
GODDESS Jehovah? Let me go YUK-YUK-YUK, and a dozen or so “Oh
MY'S”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2006-2015,
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
(BOM) BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR
|
Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu000204016
|
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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THIS
IS A PHONY DUPLICATION, AND BECAUSE THAT LADY STOLE MY COPYRIGHT
FORM, I CANNOT EVEN PRINT UP THE PAULA KING REGISTRATION
NUMBER!!!!!!!!!
'HIFISAF'
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
This
is not the book of HIFISAF
kind lads and lassies, but I think it is pretty, and so I posted it,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hey, it is also a true statement.
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
HELL
IS
FIXED
IN
STONE
AND
FIRE
They
tell you to go to your happy place and breath and count to ten. Yeah.
I'll challenge anyone to live through what I've lived through, and do
this.
Still,
if I trance out and take my lovely lightning to one of these places,
she'll give me beyond a great time, as she just loves her Ricky to
take her to waterfalls and parks, out in the prug!
All
I can say after all eternity of suffering, is please god dam it, HOLD
THE MAYO.
I'm
tired of people promising me fuckiGN shit and then just spitting in
my dick licking face at light speed cubed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
••
END
TRANSMISSION.
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