Monday, December 21, 2015

Chapter 12, Guess The Name Of The Guests






GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 12

















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The reason my blog won't grow, is because I have only ESS-dream-travelers reading it and maybe a few family-enemies and a couple Fort Pierce locals from time to time as well. Until I can afford to get the guru to help me as told before, this will keep growing at approximately one fortieth of one million page-views annually, (25,000). IE, I am just pissing into the wind as well as totally wasting my time. Only by telling a group of ever growing ''real open minded listeners'' of topics that this blog discusses on a regular basis, can I even have a glimmer of hope of any life changes for me; as originally promised to me, by co-worker Christopher Bennett, and local library consumer and country music laptop computer down-loader, Edward (Himacane) Lynch. Oh well, I suppose to survive, I will have to half starve. This sort of reminds me of some mother fucking television commercials, about overly expensive medical costs and drug prescription costs; where people my age and older, are discussing the negative ramifications of poverty, as it relates to their personally needing to choose between buying food, or their very necessary medications. Oh well, my wonderful lovely politicians up there on the Washington Hill, I guess my only apropos words here would be, SAY-LEVY, in or out of great FRANCE!!! And yes, I'm being totally ''dead-ass-serious about keeping my dam mind out of their sewer pipes, both when my blogs all began in 2006, as well as up here a decade later, just a week or so away from god dam twenty-sixteen. Funny too, folks; I will be age 61, for just over eleven of the twelve months of the year 2016, as in the 16 and 61 inverts again, with or without great pink goddess star-dates, baseball team victories with Harry Callas, and great musical artists and their numbers and their birth-dates. You know folks, and not just those up there in the © Office; if you can buy into all of that perfect symbolic connectiveness not being some stupid random happenstance series of events, then as I said and now will reiterate; without seeing your brains on an operating table, this permits me to know and realize, that you're all totally dam lobotomized! It isn't just being 61 in 2016, but I was also 14 in 69 and 41 in 96, that's nineteen-sixty-nine, and nineteen-ninety-six, great folks and ESS-Travelers, and whoever?











So as for hyperspace awareness curving ratios from any given fixed point universe, in relationship to the others surrounding them; one must first realize that localized hyperspace can be examined as the very first number category as per the previously explained system used by World Labs late in the twenty-two hundreds, this being, 1-001. This one seemingly tiny little digitation, is all that ever gets examined. Even one percent of this extremely localized hyperspace, can seem quite distant on its outer fringes towards that full one percent of of the first potential one three thousandths of all of the entire fifth dimensional multiverse system. Taking things to 0.000000000000000000000000000001232321% of that area, barely alters the probability of more than a few millions of atoms being arranged in slightly different order, in the full expansion universes. In easier words and terms, the odds that maybe a couple of pieces of dust on one piece of furniture on each country on planet Earth somewhere, may be one inch from where they would be on that same piece of furniture, on a neighboring parallel multiversal reality, or NPMR. Measuring NPMR, takes somewhat of a large technology, as well as something that would make today's best cubit computer technology seem as antiquated by comparison, as those old bead manual adding machines from China, that led to the very concepts and ideas of creating better calculators and adding machines,and eventually the most mickey mouse computers imaginable, in the basements, and secret workshops, of Mister Jobs and Mister Wozniak.











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JJJJJJJJJJJEEEEEEE FOLKS, I JUST LOVE THE GREAT COMCAST AND XFINITY. I REMEMBER STARING AT MY FOUR DAM WALLS WHEN I FIRST BEGANLIVING UP ON 26TH AND AVENUE E, IN THE END OF TH ESPRING TIME IN THE YEAR 2010, LIVING IN APRIL LEE'S PLACE, AND THAT WILD WEIRD STEP-DAD OF HERS, AND THAT BEYOND WEIRD NUTCASE, WENDY. NOW THOSE WERE SOME TIMES. NO TV, NO RADIO, NO NOTHING, JUST FOUR WALLS, A FURNACE HOT HOME, AND A HORRIBLE JOB AT HARVEST OUTREACH, WHERE I WAS VICIMIZED SEXUALLY, AS IF I WAS BAQCK LIVING WITH TOM FUCKING REALE AGAIN IN LATE JUNE AND INTO JULY, BACK IN 1970. IT IS ALL ACCESSABLE ON MY BLOGS, BUT YOU NEED TO ARCHIVE THE OLDER ONES AS SHOWN BELOW, AS AFTER LATE IN 2011, THEY HACKED ME OUT, AND I HAD TO BEGIN THIS FINAL NEW SIXTH BLOG.







MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.



















How many secrets about many of them do I know, that they wish to the gods I did not know, right down to why I went through that hell and lost everything that I had worked hard to get in my miserable life? How many secrets about many of them do I know, that they wish to the gods I did not know, right down to why I had to be in this horrible heat of endless sunshine Florida? Yes, thank you for saving my life, COMCAST, you got me through some really mother fuckiGN rough patches! I really do appreciate it. And tell Nick; no more trips, and 'pull-ins' for me, YO! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





















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General Patton and I share three huge things. We don't like paying twice for the same shit. We know that all things in cosmos recycle, including intelligent sentient life, and last but not least by any means; as much as he wished he had kissed that son of a bitch soldier that he slapped that day, I wish I never did that 1983 remake song, called, “YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! See you in the funny papers, George.>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Again Mashell Daniels, I am entitled to it, but all of this and multiplied by twenty nine octillion, is still just MY PERSONAL OPINION. What is not, is my actual experiences with this ''GROUP'' that all began at the home on Cornwall Avenue, in Ventnor, New Jersey, in the final days of June and into the first third of July, back in 1970.












Hello, alive and dreaming here, I am Mark Wayne Mohr. But I truly am ZERANNISS ARTHUR YANCY JONES, from Dogtown, and then Sahasra Dal Kanwal; thanks to my awesome great teen-queen, SSJK.











HELLO BEAUTIFUL KATHARINE!

WHERE IS MY AUNT RUTH HUNTINGTON GOTTWALD???



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Most readers will probably remember the way that the opening paragraph paste-in went, on the previous book of Milituforce blog audience folks, along with those two persons responsible directly, for this blog being created in the first place, as well as continuing past its opening year of 2006, to now.












Was the Dave Roth just Dave Roth from here in this universe, or did his advanced doppelganger dream-control him, and bring him to me at the great powerful Caldor Department Store security job in early November of 1985? Julia White has told me many times that this is true, only you don't know a dam thing yet, great audience. Dave and I had parted ways a while, after a fight we'd had, while I was still renting the home in Gibbsboro owned by Patricia Meeker, the mother of a New Jersey State Police Officer. It was a long parting, almost two years if my memory is accurate at all. Maybe only 18 months, but it was not quite a ways after I h ad moved into the Highview Apartments of Williamstown, New Jersey from that rented home that Misses Meeker was going to sell and I could not buy it at the time, so my mom and I left and moved into the Highview place, and this was our second stay at this place. I had started my book, The Permission Barrier, while still at the Meeker home, and completed it at the Highview Apartments, in 1994. I sent it down to the Copyright Office on Halloween Day of 1994, as some of you already know all about this entire mess. In my book, a character from my DREAMS, JULIA WHITE, was put into the book. Anyone of the great and powerful examiners in Washington, DC, knows it all by now, Mister Billy Islander Joel. But Dave was still not back in my life until early in 1995. Shortly after we were friends again, he had a wild DREAM, and guess wh came into his dreams extremely vividly, but this giant lovely dark haired beauty goddess, going by the name Jewel? I know that she spells her name Jewelly, and her name in the book TPB that I wrote, was altered to Julie White, but really it is Mariena Carlittia Jewelly White Krassle. Her City-Name in the HOLY CITY or capitol city of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, is JEWELLY-Natalazatahh, and various astral-plank translations to waking English Language world suffix-names that follow any name of JEWELLY, exist. Actually Julia White told me, millions of years ago, that there are more than four hundred suffix names to the city-name of JEWELLY. This name is registered in the great Palace Hall on Kanwal Avenue, and what is known in waking world physical plane human bibles, as names written in the lambs book of life, is indeed one and the same with this CITY-NAME registry in the great awesome KANWAL-PALACE. Now in this book, I will bring some of these topics along quite a bit further, so you can all be the judge of the Copper-Kessle fudge so to speak, or maybe better and plainer said, so you can be my judge, but more adequately and honestly, for me and my favor, for a dam change; kind people.














In this book, before and if it closes out ever; my current audience of just whoever you all are and have been, will be added to a new one. This will happen as soon as I can afford to pay the necessary people to assist me with a managed and hosted website, that I will call Morianity-Foundation-2, or if the old one is still available for me to take it back over, then I will, so there won't be a number two at the end. I will pay by allowing the host to place ads just as they did on my other non-public site as shown above in red colored font, and most likely, still pay a nominal fee on top of that, probably if hosted, more than the just under $4.00 per month that it cost me before, but even if tripled, along with all the ads they wish to place on it, I can afford up to this amount, and by the gods, I will have this site, with all my links to those public ones such as BLOGGER and WORDPRESS, as long as they allow my blogs, which I do not think will be all that much longer, in this rapidly altering new age, where people like me, not loved by these owners of our American society because we don't just accept without griping and belly-aching, all the shit that they feel is just fine to do to us day and night, you know; remove our dam ass freedoms, steal our fucking music by changing one note, paying off officials everywhere from the Senate and the House, to the dam Copyright Office, and on and On you all know that I can keep spouting off lists. As I said, THIS is exactly why, I feel that my fucking public blogging days are very numbered now, as both ISIS grows, and folks like me are perceived as enemies of the land; and our rights rapidly fuckiGN removed without trials or anything. Funny too, my dad predicted as if he already knew and saw all of this go down; and way mother fuckign back in early 1974, nearly forty-two fuckign years ago. He as many of you know, was a BATTLESHIP-ELDRIDGE EXPERIMENT SURVIVOER, and the legends tell us that this ship went out of normal space and out of normal time, so please don't accept this blog's word for any of this, before you form your own conclusions and opinions regarding it all. First, GOOGLE IT ALL UP for yourselves, under PHILADELPHIA EXPERIMENT, and other similar such items, as you search out the topic for yourselves. One thing those who have power over us know, at least until eventual fucking martial law will come and destroy America for all of us, and that is , even my nasty sounding threats against my enemies, never ever will be carried out in ILLEGAL WAYS. They may however wish that those other ways were what I chose, after I do exact my revenge soon, as my way leaves zero traces in any legal judicial court system for any possible prosecution, as electronic metaphysics is legal, and even when freedom of speech is removed sooner or later, I can make adjustments so that none of my words could possibly imply any form of threats that could lead to my punishment. Now with full on martial law, they can just come and take you and kill you and torture you, but long before then, I promise you all one mother fuckiGN thing. One way or the other, I'LL BE OFF THIS GOD DAM FUCKING PLANET!









My mother fuckiGN dirt bag enemies think that I need thousands of dollars for expensive electronic equipment. As that great wonderful hair shampoo commercial would say, or that gorgeous babe in it, back in 1980,

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!

W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!





Cheapo junk works just as well, as hyperspace and messing with it, isn't one bit prejudiced against lousy sound quality and other low-budget related absurdities. Sorry to burst your safe-bubble, you bastard fuckiGN rotten super wealthies out there. And I do promise you, as I have all along, “Before you get to me, I'll get to you”!







GUESSING THE NAMES OR THE (IDENTITIES) OF THE VISITING TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON (GUESTS) may sound a bit 'weedikalass', Mister Elmer Fwudd, BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT, I promise you this, WOMO, MO, and all others concerned. So many things would sound absolutely mother fuckiGN absurd, impossible, and totally ridiculous, just 100, 200, 300 years ago, and believe me people; those amounts of time are an eyelash fucking blink, to the great mountains, and the stars of the sky, and yes; if you were to just go back into time, one or two or three lousy little centuries; and begin speaking to those folks around you, about all of the incredible things that exist in our time, and in our society; from jet airplanes, to moon landings, to global communications and satellites, and internet and social media, and electricity, and electric lights, and machines, and recording live sounds and images and retrieving them at will; and I could go on for an hour and won't, but if you did that; they would fuckiGN hang you as a dam witch, and no one would believe a dam fuckiGN word that you said!!!















FROM: The Weather Bug (TWB)

SHARED on the BOM (Blogs Of Mountainpen).







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DECEMBER 21, 2015,

MONDAY NIGHT AT 8:56,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS 75 DEGREES FNHT.

RANGE TODAY-------(H-81/L-70).

RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS 88%, AND IT FEELS LIKE 79.

WIND IS SE AT 14, WITH GUSTING UP TO 26.

TOTAL RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---0.









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Well, perhaps my mom and Carla-Jay-jay, out in the great city of SDK, are finally all finished, taking lamps and other furnishings, up to what here in my waking world, is called, the Atlantic Palace, and fittingly named, up in Atlantic City; as it is indeed HER, or the Atlantic's palace, as well as HER CITY as well on the waking worlds of hyperspace. Do I believe that outside our Milky Way Galaxy, there really is this FORCE, that I call PIN GODDESS? You can bet your dam British Petroleum that I do, great kind folks! The same indwelt by T3E's that were inside and controlling the Roddenberry Star Trek crew, all know these truths, and my proofs to all these seemingly beyond bizarre and wild claims, is the wormhole at the very center of our MWG (Milky Way Galaxy). Back in these days and times of these original sixties STAR TREK TV SHOWS, they would have no humanly possible way of knowing about the center-galactic wormhole. But those fictional Vulcan resident mystics all knew of it, in the show, and now if you're all dumb enough to buy into that 1312.4 Star-date episode, 'WNMHGB' for initialed-title, then so be it; but I do not! Interesting star-date too; and we don't need to touch on anything here, Mister Munster, and mister Callas! Hey, look at it all this way, people, YO, to quote one of these two, “I'm oudda here”, and to quote the other of these two, “I'll keep my whittle mouth shut”. Well, for now, but still, Detective Lenny Briscoe, sir! Raymundo Restaurant visitors and all, and many a bumpy road with both supernatural and natural dice rolls. Who the Christmas trees out here remembers that African-American lady who came to Cifaloglio forcing me to do all kinds of paperwork and tests, shortly before the Snyder-Takeover of my once nice small security guard outfit called Initial Security, up in Pleasantville Katyqueen, New Jersey?









Dave Roth put me onto the reality, that I am not allowed to anything with music; and this not being allowed, is a real BRICK-WALL and a real HALLS FORCE, and with his wild 1980 and 1990 accent, a real HALLS FAWCE! Being in with these forces can be a wonderful experience, and not be one bit SYFY, with all the half billion dollar famous price tags involved, from morning lights, to symbolism, to fixed powers that make little people like me whom they target for death and destruction, sometimes slowly over a tortured fucking lifetime, something that goes beyond any way of expressing this in words, as there just are no god dam words. But concentrically folks, having these HALLS FAWCES wiping you out on a consistent continual unrelenting basis, THAT is an entirely other fucking ballgame; ladies and gentlemen. THAT is my story, and has been since I was physically born as the human-me. I did not begin on that date and time, only Mark Wayne Mohr did, and I can promise you, I am not Mark Wayne Mountainpen Mohr. You would not believe a thing I would and could tell, so why dam bother? I know it is all true, and so does dam ass GOD!









YO, I cannot tell exactly who told what, or what I heard through what IMHO were very reliable grapevines, and things along this nature; BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT, I learned around the time that I was writing my blog about a year, that I am already in this family of great washcloths, long before I was brought further into it, during a summer time act of passion, underneath the Central Pier of Atlantic City!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!















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Now why exactly, Sarah Callio Martino, somewhere in hyperspace; trapped me in a lighthouse, and yelled my name out, over and over, 'JoJo-JoJo; I will never totally know, so let me widen the scope of the topic, so we can see this in a larger blend of bigger pictures, and out of one tiny confined box; great ladies and gentlemen. First, my spell-checker is disabled, so I must close the word program out and reboot into it to activate the anti-hack procedure. OK I'm back, EVIL CHUCKIE, DAWN-MARIE, BEETLEJUICE NONSTAR, and FREDDY ELM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
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1988
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
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1989






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Someone has gone to more trouble than the Romans to kill Jesus Christ, to prevent me from doing many things, that on the surface, appear to be a ridiculous claim on my part, but unlike Mister Pedersen and his avoidance of living on more than the surface of life for the most part; I live in a deep dark hole, not of my own choosing or making; and I must realize when 5,000 dam ass things all happen, somewhere, this just cannot be one dam string of extremely unlucky coincidences.





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I AM GETTING A LOT OF FREEZES AND CRASHES THAT ALMOST HAPPEN, FCC, BOB MCDOWELL, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!










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CHRIS, ED, AND THE MILITUFORCE BLOGAUD, CHAPTER 0










































Without my god dam FIREFOX-BROWSER, the blogs look all fucked up and stupid-ugly. Oh well, I can pay the Staples Guru and eat crackers and warm tea for two to six fucking weeks, or I can eat better, and look fucking dumber. STUPID-UGLY, a great way to express how a non-FF browser, seems to interact with the Blogger software. OH SHEEEEEEEEIT!








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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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


















Poolroy-95; and the mayor, but not the Mayor of France; and poor old screwed up Mountainpen; we're all just so dam endlessly CLUELESS, along with maybe the kids of America and that lovely teen queen Kim Wild. Holy Disney Punches.

























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