Supplemental
Blog entry of 9 December, 2015
This may be my
final entry on the site, WORDPRESS. I will merely use it to see if
the Pink Goddess Plurals Club has messages for me here.
I have
attempted three times I believe, to place a link for the Blogger site
onto blogs. They are removing them. If I cannot link this blog to
that blog, then I will no longer blog here. They may do as they wish,
but then again, so can I.
If the link
below, is not there, then this will be my last words, here at
WORDPRESS.
MY
FAULT folks; it posts up in a different way.
“MY
MOTHER SAID I SHOULD NOT BE HERE, MY OWN
FUCKING
MOTHER FOR CRISSAKE, FOLKS, AFTER THE HOSPITAL BROUGHT HER BACK
FROM MORTAL DEATH”
==========(C)MARK
WAYNE MOHR 2006-2012========
WEDNESDAY
MORNING, SBT-DATFILE: 103112.364
WITH
OR WITHOUT HALLOWEEN PRIVELAGES CANCELLED
THIS
IS STILL THE FINAL DAY OF THE FIFTH SIXTH OF 2012 FOLKS, AND
THAT’S THAT, MISTER FRIKKIN ESOLPH, SIR!
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION, WHAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Before I
even try and begin anything, I want to make three things more
perfectly clear than even the ex and the late 37th US
President, Mister Richard Milhouse Marhouse Nixon could do, back
in the frikkin' early seventies, ladies and gentlemen!!!!!!!!!!!
First and foremost peeps, I have no ill feelings towards anyone,
anywhere; that has not hurt me in a very mean way, and that was
completely undeserved on my part. If anyone reading any
of my MORIANITY BLOGS, were having any of the bullshit
in your lives, that has been going frikkin down in my life, since
I was old enough not to piss my pants every hour; then you too,
I’LL GUARANTEE IT, would be
just as angry, and just as colorful in language, and just as
vengeful, despite the All Mighty
SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE who is claiming this
trait for only HERSELF, and hay; SHE
RULES THE EMPIRE,
and has told us all this quite plainly; yet I am the only one the
message was meant for, and so, I am the only one who got it, so
now you really must admit folks, STUFF LIKE THIS CANNOT BE MADE
UP, AND ON TOP OF THAT, CALLING IT ALL INCONCEIVABLE, OR
UNFATHOMABLE; DOES NOT BEGIN TO DESCRIBE THIS POWERFUL FRIKKIN
CRAP. Am I right, or folks, am I right, or put another way still,
AM I RIGHT???????????? Pretty
darn clever to have one person meant to
GET IT, and he GOT IT,
and none of you will ever GET IT, most likely, unless you really
begin to start recognizing Harry Potter
amongst us, right here in the land of the every day
normal average world, and yet simultaneously; forever hiding from
view, by way of your own personal choice to allow this mask to
become the ultimate globally shared illusion, and with
quintessential proportions for crissake. No folks, I have nothing
at all against anyone, unless they have damaged me, and my life
so badly, that no words from a thousand great James Patterson
novels all combined, and more; could ever even hope to be able to
adequately describe, good folks. Why would I? It would be
pointless, senseless, and insane; and no insane person can speak
plainly and clearly; and you know that these blogs do. I am not
all over the map. An insane person would tell a powerful story,
yes; but then they would suddenly break off into totally off the
wall, and unconnected ramblings; of irrelevant other stuff. Some
really accurate and totally perfect examples can be found by
watching on the weekends, which is all that is left now of this
greatest law show ever created; the television show called, “LAW
AND ORDER”. There are a good four or maybe more episodes, where
this is shown; and this is quite accurately portrayed, as I have
been around some peeps, who had better remember to take their
frikkin meds; or getting the hell away from them, is a highly
suggested idea. So if this little blogging script, even remotely
makes my point, that I am not looking to pick a frikkin fight
with anybody, or the innocent general population of this great
Planet Earth; then wonderful; and if you choose not to believe
me, even after a careful scrutiny of all my blogs in general, and
I am not suggesting you read everything I have written, as there
are indeed, only a few who have, and I know the ones who have,
believe me; I do know this, because I have ways of knowing stuff
that even the powerful peeps like the billionaires do not have
access to, even from all of their Bohemian Groves, and more; but
my quick point here, is that I would not have things any other
way, you know, total free will. Still, I hope that anyone reading
me, would use some part of a small bag of logic, and then you
would undoubtedly come to the only possible conclusion, and that
is that as I said; I have played a DEFENSE-ONLY
game of LIFE-FOOTBALL with these WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE
enemies of mine since my adult life started, and if anyone out
here knows how to win, or any team who ever has won,
in football, playing DEFENSE-ONLY, please, pretty
pretty please, comment, or e-mail, or phone me, and tell me; as I
know of none. Not that I am Joe
Football, or am the biggest fan of the game in the
world, but shoot folks, I was not born at night, or last
night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now that this point is out of the way,
two more things exist, that I feel a real powerful need to clear
up for the record, and as lovely
Lieutenant Anita Van Buren would say this so well,
again, on “Law & ORDER”; “RIGHT HERE, AND RIGHT
NOW”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, out of the three points I need to
make, number one was done as best as I could, bringing me now to
number two, YO. If you are not someone with a larger number
shoe-size than IQ number, you will grasp this, and agree with me.
Nobody can read this blog, these blogs, MORIANITY,
or the words of the MOUNTAINPEN;
and not see that even the mighty brain
of Albert Einstein, could not
just MAKE UP THIS STORY, and on top of that peeps, if
you take any place at random, and then read that blog, and the
next ten chapters; you will know that something huge is going on
in my life, and all around me; and I mean bigger than around any
political person, giant rock or pop star, wealthy billionaire, or
multi-millionaire, etcetera; and I don’t say this to brag, as
bragging about a nightmare that one is eternally trapped in,
well; THAT WOULD BE INSANITY, and I
AM NOT FRIKKIN INSANE, but the person with that
tin foil hat Jason Forrest from the trees comment on my
HATE-SITE, as I have come to name it since I learned of its
existence in early 2009; certainly has his or her right to their
opinion, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. If you take this
away from him or her, then we all agree to take that freedom away
from ourselves collectively and totally. I may not enjoy reading
stuff like that, but let me tell you something, friends and
fiends out here. Everyone from my super daughter, to the Pope,
the President, and all of the celebrated personalities; all get
criticized, and many are thought of as pretty much not all that
far away from my category. This is why I do not read the rags.
Now back last summer while standing at a Winn Dixie Grocery Store
check-out line, I could not miss some rag saying that Bill
Clinton was dying, and he hoped that he would see his
grandchildren first, or something that was boldly printed on the
headline page, totally unmissable; and yes, like a total jerk
off; I blogged it; and it was more
internet garbage and stupidity, and then they call me
nuts, and insane, and screwed up; like WOW folks. I have nothing
to worry about, and as I said, enjoy your opinions of me, good,
bad, indifferent, or as Congressman Rob Andrews would say as a
teenager in 1975, “WHATEVER”, down in Albert Pileggi’s
music band practice basement, two blocks or less from where I had
attended the 7th and the 8th grade, at
the Haddon Township High School, a few years earlier
in the late nineteen-sixties, YO. But finishing out my second of
three points here folks, my blogs just
COULD NOT BE FAKED IF I TRIED. Not even Einstein could
make this all up, and do all of this; I promise you peeps, not
in a million mother frikkin ass years, YO!!!!!!!! Yes,
high to all of you, I remember every one of you, & thank you
for thinking of me. I told you all my endless cycle, and
that my true age as a result was a large number; and then you
laughed, and thought it was funny; well, here I am; just as I
said, speaking of Pileggi’s house, near the old school; DUH!
Now to be sure the second point is fully explained here, I will
show you just a two blog example, and you be the judge. Forget
the Copper Kettle fudge, as all of the shops in Atlantic City are
closed right now. I cannot believe the enemy forces would be
stupid enough to name those two hurricanes that are in
alphabetical order, thus coming back to back, as they did; for
my 1983 situation, with the two peeps on my telephone,
RALPH and SANDY. Let me touch on names,
for the peeps that did not graduate high school, speaking of high
school so much today. If your name is MARTIN, and it is a last
name or Sir-Name, as the first name is also known as our
CHRISTIAN-NAME, this MARTIN is a root name. In America, two
basically English and or cauk peeps, marrying and having their
offspring; would maintain the name Martin
until a child down the line eventually married into say the
Spanish or the Italian line, a male child who keeps the name in
this country, and even still, down the line a ways, if they marry
a girl from our neighbors to the south, this name may become
Martinez. If this be an Italian girl, the name might switch over
to Martino. But still, in all three of these cases, the name root
is Martin, whether it be MARTIN, MARTINO, or MARTINEZ. It is the
suffix or ending part, that alters, not the root part, adding an
“O”, or an “EZ”, or remaining its root with nothing
added. I only go into all of this because they named the previous
Hurricane, with the Spanish Suffix, but the root name, is indeed,
RALPH, so then after RALPH, came SANDY. When I saw this on the
internet late last year, on a page where they show the names of
the following year’s hurricanes from the A-Z, I knew
immediately, that SANDY was going to be another
“homes floating in the Barnegat Bay” storm, like
in the early sixties. You kiddies under sixty out here, are
clueless to this basic averaged out cycle of a twice per century
deal, but I knew we were DUE, and then, I knew the name thing
would just not go by without causing a disaster. I told you all,
that a real bad thing would indeed happen later this year. It is
on my blogs, from spring or summer somewhere; for anyone to find.
I knew it back then, and I could have said all of this back then;
but why? I am not here trying to impress anyone or claim to be
anything but the prophet of NOTHING, are you one too, Stabler and
Benson, and the ‘other PP’, who is ten trillion times more
gorgeous, so no one would ever mix up my two PP’s?
WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now the final point
deals with 1983, the days of Ralph and Sandy when they were not
hurricanes, just as Albert Pileggi in 1975 dealt with the
Andrews’s who were not yet famous congressmen; and on I could
go. Being around me, causes folks to shoot to the top, or sink to
the Mike Gutherman bottom; and I have noticed this all of my
life. Some kind of force surrounds my being, and if you hang
around me; you will either go all the way up, or all the way
down; and whether James T. Burr, chooses to believe any of this,
or not; or anyone else for that frikkin matter,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can only touch on it, as
telling it all would be a book as large as anything Jimmy P.
would write, and time does not permit that right now. However,
earlier this year, I decided to take a 1983 song I’d written,
called, “YOU’LL BE CROSSING OVER”, and an old telephone
conversation in 1984 with my daughter as a teenager, and a
sampler and vocoder, and get her to sing a harmony track for me,
and re-write the song that was once called, “Girl, I’ll Tell
You anything”. She knows at least three reasons why I chose
that song to do this with, and anyone close to her can ask her,
and if she says I am lying, then she is,
because SHE
KNOWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Still, my third point for my blog of this day is this: I will cut
and paste in just two blogs, during my period where I had all my
stuff taken on the Hutchinson Island beach, back on Watergate
Day; speaking of my old pal Tricky Dick Nicks, and what I want
you to see, is how my life is absolutely like nothing else
anywhere, even to the point of defying a powerful biblical
scripture, that states that nothing is uncommon to man, or put
simpler, I cannot possibly be going through this life, as it is
too beyond anyone’s grasp, anyone, anywhere, on Planet Earth,
and even PP, the non-super gorgeous-PP that is, told me one day
in the late nineties, while we were
operational as STUDIO PARK RECORDS, and I’ll
quote the son of a bitch, “Mark, your problems go beyond
mankind and religion”. This is most likely the one thing out of
his mouth to me, ever; that had real validity, and wasn’t one
of his many hundreds of promises and predictions of things, that
never came to pass. 1983, just as with
1986, was very very very frikkin powerful, as so far
as my WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE enemies are concerned, with me and my
life. They all knew back in the beginning of the
nineteen-eighties, that all of this was part of something that
goes beyond human reasoning, as many of my WOMO peeps, are part
of the supermind system, as you all have heard me discuss over
and over again, good folks; and I refer to, yes, the
TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS.
Now L-4, we can CAP in the two blogs, so you will see this as
one long blog, but I will post this one and then the other two,
in reverse order, so it all makes sense, if I am right, I will be
posting this blog last, and start by posting these two in a
reverse dated order, they both were done on Watergate Day, as I
said before, the 17th day of June of this year. Let us
hope this works. If it does, you will see, suddenly at Walmart,
or maybe not suddenly but more gradually and not at Walmart, what
I’m trying to say here today, with all of this. Before I close
this out, I want to say that when I went to sleep early last
night, it was not even dark yet. I slept from around just past
four, until about a half past eleven last night. Then I got up,
and did the other blog CAP work with the OLD
TESTAMENT MORIANITY-BIBLE FOR MILLENNIUM-3. I had
beautiful interactions with the great Sarah-Stacey Jehovah
Krassle, even though for the majority of the time, she did not
take her giant teen girl form with the long brown hair and her
huge brown eyes, standing in flat feet, at a full 79 inches.
Still, I had a great time with HER, as the ATLANTIC
OCEAN. SHE is so awesome, and I will love her to
death. I always have, and I always will. I may not understand
what she has done, coming here as Sarah Nurockey, and then MC;
but you know folks, all that matters is
that I obey this awesome Goddess Scylla, and keep her
happy. Anyone who ever read the entire Old Testament of the
non-Morianity-Bible, knows well, that you don’t wanna’ fool
around with this incredible, all powerful, empire ruling, teen
queen GODDESS. IWALU, MY-SCYLLA, no
matter what!!!!
Saying End
Transmission is not fitting here, as this will be in-between a
three blog all-in-one CAP or cut and paste job.
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0456
KING
CURSEDBYSATAN BABYLONIAN NEW SHOES
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2295
SBT-DATFILE:
061612.006, STARTING SATURDAY MORNING
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME
MORIANITY-FOUNDATION
CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“TWO
WASTED LIVES, CURSED BY HUNTINGTON-SATAN”
©
2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR
©
2006-2012 MWM/MWM/MF-2/BOM
SWORN
VOLUNTARY OATH AND LEGAL DYING UTTERANCE.
WE
ALL ARE DYING FROM THE MILLISECOND WE’RE BORN.
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
I tried
very mother fucking hard to get out of this building and move.
Everything that I mother fucking did failed totally and
miserably. You cannot fight the
HUNTINGTON CURSE. My cunt lapping miserable neighbors
are making my life hell, and all I can think about now is how I
can fucking cunt commit suicide, but there is no way, not with
the mother fucking cock sucking World Laboratories up in the dirt
ball future, scanning back before I do it, making a digital copy,
and popping into a time just past where I commit the deed, and
send a disintegration signal simultaneously to the dead body that
was me before I offed myself. You can see the shit ass nightmare
hell I’m in folks. For the scoffers, fine, you go cunt lapping
back 400 years, and start telling about jet travel across the
globe in hours, going to the fucking moon, internet, other global
communications, the personal computer, the modern medical
breakthroughs, and on and on we could go here, and you all
fucking know I speak the fucking truth, and you know they would
call you either crazy, bewitched, or both; and you would end up
tossed into a tower room, or a sanitarium forever. Laugh all you
want at me mother fuckers, THIS IS ALL REAL. I CANNOT DIE, AND
ESCAPE THIS, AND IT IS BEYOND HORRENDOUS; AND I AM STUCK FOR 19
MORE YEARS, IN THIS HELLISH GAME, THAT LITERALLY IS UNFATHOMABLE,
AND INDESCRIBABLE; WITH ANY NORMAL ENGLISH DICTION AND
VOCABULARY.
55555555555555555555555555555555555555555
Shall we
move this fucking bull-shit nightmare tale of woe times ten to
the exponential value of a thousand, onward???
I AM NOT
ALLOWED TO MOVE, BREATHE, HAVE ANY FREEDOM TO OPERATE AT ALL, OR
DO ANYTHING WHATSOEVER; UNLESS I AGREE TO BEING MAJOR HARASSED,
AND PERSECUTED. As soon as I fucking posted a few things from my
YOU-TUBE CHANNEL, up onto my blog websites earlier, within one
minute of shutting down my mother fucking computer; all of
DOGTOWN or you would say, HELL, broke fucking loose. All of my
neighbors began slamming doors and playing loud music, and this
went on for an hour or so, and then it stopped, all of it, in the
spookiest way you could mother fucking imagine. Then one minute
of silence passed. THEN BOOM and dogfood consumption with car
dings, the phone rings. All I can tell you is just a few things,
nothing more than that peeps, so try and do an Annie Wilson’s
mother with me, and be somewhat understanding of my unspeakable
fucking eternal plight of ultra horror and terror,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All my plans to get out of the
building in two months, went up in smoke. You only need to know
this much, along with some weekend plans, just POOF, but so
dependable as always, just like Merlin the Wizard. Oh well, at
least I don’t have to infuse the double bubble potential
situation here, in with any lizard, or blizzard since Florida has
no weather that is conducive for bad snow, and all though it is
literally infested with car insurance dirt bag salespersons,
posing as gecko’s, from the git bag General Insurance Company,
or GEICO, I rarely run into them by staying indoors a lot,
keeping the place sprayed and clean, and when I do go out, I stay
as far away from shrubbery as possible, as these twisted little
stinky runny worms have an affinity with this over the area of
the asphalt jungles. No folks, this HC will not allow me to ever
live any kind of a life, or do anything at all. A few things
amaze me, and smart folks know what I am not saying for my own
good, but that yes, this has been Gottwald Permitted or GP to go
this far without my being literally thrown into the pit of fires
of nuke fusion. There is no way my neighbors are all speed
reading through my post ups, and can all get together and begin
an organized and intelligently launched unified assault against
me, the way that it all went down, late last fucking cunt
evening. Yet it did. This is called, the OPEN REEL ‘MY’
SYNDROME or for short, the ORMS, and it’s nice and easily
pronounced in a shortened abbreviation, as well, peeps, YO. What
is ORMS? Well, besides the greatest female recording artist on
Planet Earth all ready totally knowing what it is, and me; I am
not sure who else really has much of a clue. In fact, speaking
for myself, I may have a clue, but that is all. Really, how could
I magically write song lyrics in STM, (Space-Time-Mind), that
make so much sense, back in 1983, such as with
the tune called, “657-BLUES”, that go, “Nineteen
years have come and gone, and all that’s left is our sweet
song”? Hay, maybe I really did think I knew most everything,
until SHE showed me the songs we’d sing. Who can really know,
quantum waves, breath echos, or perhaps seventh dimensional
circuitry that lays so mysteriously and dauntingly, above the
sixth dimension of MIND? Go ahead Einstein, just tell me that one
James T. Gloucester Burr, with or without your star-ships or
other fantasies. I have a very special message for the great and
wonderful Leticia Tilley, of EHCYNJUSAESMWG, “HAY GIRL, I’ll
tell you anything”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What does the
freaking United States Copyright Office have to say about that
one, Miss AT&T Blake, YO?????????????? DUH!!!!!
Oh
boy oh boy oh boy Moomy Deaest and Mommy. These fucking assholes
above me bnang that god dam fuckign shit house door all the time, an
dit is really annoying as mother fuckign shit on a hot shingle
drizzling continually into my mouth, YO!!!!
Yes
sir, Mister David Leigh Smith, I found it very difficult to believe
such an incredible reality back in the autumn of 1970, when you went
onto tell me to see life as a set of realistic circumstances not
necessarily matching real world evidence, and to trust, ALWAYS, and
FOREVER, no matter what, the real world evidence, such as those words
that you had written that afternoon on the blackboard; that I saw
upon returning from the other school, and back to Hopkins Lane and
your class, on that middle late afternoon. I think that you more than
anyone else alive that I am able to think of right now, pressing the
old brain to the max out level; gave me a valuable or maybe the term
priceless more adequately describes this here, sir; tool, for
''measuring reality'', no matter how sane or crazy or any gray area
in-between, that it may appear to be.
>>>>>ISIS-JUPITER
HHW, NINM, CHAPTER 0005>>>>>
|
WHAT
MAY SEEM IMPOSSIBLE TO BELIEVE, HUH KIM? SHEEEEEEIT, Dawny and
POPS!!!!!!!
You
need more than witnesses, asshole Mark Mohr.
70%
of my followers vanished, poof, Sir Harry Potter, way more magically
than any fictional material ever could be!
|
But
as with all things, they come, and they go.
I
am going to tell Resident fuckiGN Manager Maratto about this all
night slamming of fuckign cunt lapping ashit house doors, as this is
fuckign god dam rideeeeeeeeeeeeeekulous, YO KATY QUEEN!!!
To
be completely honest, lads and lassies; it is beyond surreal and
weird, times three billion; to know absolutely and positively; that
if I do certain things, such as start using this open office program,
that Microsucks
Light-Bulb Hacks
will kick in, with precision Swiss time-piece clock-work. Along with
this, it is wild beyond any of your dreams; and I don't care if you
are a top sports figure, celebrity in acting or musically, tops in
your field in the scientific community, or a president of a F-500
company; I and only I, can make the following claim. If I was to have
something that I would desire today, or this week; the stock market
would totally plunge. If some 19 year old tall super goddess knocked
me on my little ass and said marry me or I'll break your neck, and we
married next week, and I were then given a chance to be an executive
in her father's company, some huge company, and paid a starting
salary of after taxes, around 100-G, I am the only person on this
planet that would DARE LOOK A SUPREME COURT JUDGE STRAIGHT IN THE
FACE, AND TELL THEM, I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT THE STOCK MARKET WITHIN 90
DAYS OR LESS WILL CRASH DOWN TO 3000 POINTS OR LOWER, AND NEVER EVER
COME BACK. This is because I totally absolutely KNOW that what I am
saying is true. With the same assurance and powerful awesome knowing;
I knew that my once somewhat large growing blog audience, would also
crash and be lost, if I redid what I did back while I was living at
506 Robin Hill Apartments; in the late spring time somewhere, back in
the year of 1984. Certain things going on in my life are absolute
certainties, because they are connected in invisible energies, that
just because I may not totally understand what and how and who and
all of that, makes it all so; I still know it is 100% real, and
having faith that this is true, isn't even part of this. It's not
even anywhere on the menu option page, from the closest 'A' to the
furtherest 'Z'. Now after saying this, and I have said this on my
blogs about once a year for the 8.5 years of my blogging career now,
folks; a powerful undeniable proof comes out of this no matter how
many peeps out there hate me bringing this logical and indisputable
truth to any of your attentions. Somewhere, if all my nutty and far
out beyond comparison shit that I claim is all true and happening all
around me and has since the day I was born; was in fact the product
of a deranged sick sike case, someone by now, by sheer odds and the
law of human curiosity; would have offered me the chance to make a
fool out of myself and let them PROVE ME WRONG, ending my blogs in
shame, forever discredited and ruined. But this has never ever
happened, not a once. Not even a hint of someone discussing such a
possibility with me, has occurred all this mother fucking time. The
kicker still is that it would not cost a really powerful or wealthy
person a cent. In fact, it would not cost a poor person, one cent.
Did you fucking hear what I just said? I said not one red cent. The
Milituforce knows what is being said and they are going to severely
punish me over the course of the coming days, but I cannot live as a
fucking coward forever, and need to keep making my annual statement
and offer. It can go unanswered while they bury me in the ground one
day, l but this will just go, no matter who likes it or not; all that
fuckiGN further, to prove me right all along. After-all, if you
cannot lose a penny, and have only an upside potential from the
swinging of the bat; and still, I get no takers, not one curious
bastard who wants to know more; well, a few possibilities are then
jumping out. One is that I really did die and go to hell, and this is
the worst part of hell, that you never get told you are there. The
bible scriptures that show how those in hell know it beyond any doubt
such as the story of the rich man and the servant who was forced to
live and subsist on the crumbs off of the masters table, and then
both men died, and the poor man in heaven was begged by the rich man
in hell, to let him put a drop of water on his burning tongue from
his finger. Stop taking this bible fuckiGN shit so literally that you
all think you're god almighty, and you too preachers. This doesn't
say he knew he was in hell, no matter how you try and make yourself
read the passages and believe that bullshit. I too am begging for
someone to take me seriously and do the very same thing, almost; but
all of that is not important right now. But yes, Doctor Shirley
Grantglands; you might say from here to hell and back, THAT THIS IS
INDEED, MY PROBLEM.I know for a fact it sure as shit isn't your dam
problem, back in 1983, or up here in 2014, and yes, I said in my last
blog 1896 instead of 1986, a typographical error on my part, or a
(PBHE) as we called this when my blogging all began early in 2006.
Another possibility if the hell-theory is wrong, is that there is
some total absolute MIND CONTROL SYSTEM being employed, to keep so
much as one person from ever desiring to contact me and ask me person
to person, just what this offer is all about, since I assure you, as
I have in the past before this over and over; I want nothing illegal,
and I want not so much as a penny. Yet any one of you, if real, out
there; has it within your power to make that stock market go down 500
or more points a week for the next half year or so, and by day
trading and opening an account in your name, using your computer, you
can become a billionaire by shorting the DOW INDEX, as when I am up,
IT IS DOWN! If you do not know this ICPE-APE deal by now, you really
should drop off of this blog.
JUNE
24, 2014,
TUESDAY
MORNING, AT 6:55,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 73 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS STILL HOLDING 100%, and STICKY-YUK.
END
TRANSMISSION.
|
|
|
GLOBAL
AUDIENCE IN SHADE RATIO:
END
TRANSMISSION.
CEMB---AMP---CHAPTER
21
CHRIS,
ED, AND THE MILITUFORCE BLOGAUD
The
planet has totally changed, Wesley Crusher. It would be nice if you
were out there, both as the actor,and the PHASE-4 character, so we
could relate, because my pal, I am now you, on that fuckiGN ship,
watching them all trapped unknowingly in their dam pitiful game,
clueless as Mister Gravigain himself. Merry; you and your friends
want to know why it all happened, and more about the invention. Well,
in the world I grew up in, that would involve a little bit more than
this mechanized shell game between us, but I will accept on your
terms, that you want to know some stuff. Fine. I will tell you what
you wish to know, and congratulations with your life, and I hope it
is all you want it to be. As for why he visited me at the health
club, I honestly do not know. You know him somewhat better than I do.
This machine uses compressed gasses, gravity which is really mind
trapped in hyperspace and trying to get back into its truer plank,
and it also is electromagnetic. Simply put, until it wears out from
lots of use, it is an extremely efficient energy generator, putting
out two times what it began with, because it takes advantage of
forces around us that do this all the time. He never brought the
model into Haddonwood if that answers anything for you, and he never
told me where he lives, you did that whether you know it or not, two
years after I lost saw him at the pool. I know you did this, as I
never ever thought of you or anyone in that industry, as I only get
depressed thinking about this, and why would I want to get depressed,
it is not rational, right?
Now
you and your friends can do whatever it is, and I will play along.
They are all wasting their time and effort, you know, and I even told
them all this in 1982 on my song that should have been copyrighted in
Sleepy Hollow!
I
was not going to do any more online activity but when I saw the Pink
Goddess Plural Club in action, I couldn't refuse to begin my
communications with an answer to a question. I know how much I
despise it when I ask something, and the whole dam world sits there
ignoring simple requests, and I was raised on the dam Golden-Rule of
doing unto others the way you would hope for others to do to us, we
all know it, and few practice it worth a shit!!!
Life
really is a silly old dog, and again, three cheers for Mister John
Jack McCoy, the Phase-4 District Attorney of New York county, in
Manhattan, NYUSAESMWG. You go, Dick WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLF, YO. HEY
GREAT FOLKS OUT HERE; you are now reading CHAPTER 21, and
WOW-THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, can you blame people, when I have done
so much dam technical no-no stuff in my life? I was going to say, hey
did you ever hear of telephones? But I know better. Who can trust me,
even if I say I would never risk going to jail, and they all want to
put me there, so I would never ever mess with shit like that, but can
they be sure of that 100%? Oh well, what is your take on all of this
new world CRUSHER-GAME, old buddy ex-FCC-boss-man, R.-McD?????????
Oh
well, those same people give poor old little me that same BRICK WALL
treatment, huh
Mister Boxer McAndrews Hall! Yes sir, I must
be in with the fawces,
to exactly quote your cool accent; up there in Camden, New Jersey.
Oh
well, those same people give poor old little me that same BRICK WALL
treatment, huh
Mister Boxer McAndrews Hall! Yes sir, I must
be in with the fawces,
to exactly quote your cool accent; up there in Camden, New Jersey.
Oh
well, those same people give poor old little me that same BRICK WALL
treatment, huh
Mister Boxer McAndrews Hall! Yes sir, I must
be in with the fawces,
to exactly quote your cool accent; up there in Camden, New Jersey.
Oh
well, those same people give poor old little me that same BRICK WALL
treatment, huh
Mister Boxer McAndrews Hall! Yes sir, I must
be in with the fawces,
to exactly quote your cool accent; up there in Camden, New Jersey.
Well,
Donna, if you can hear me or read me up there at World Laboratories,
tell them all I cannot get back, and will be repeating this horrible
fuckiGN death loop most likely for another 8,000 years, and then
another, and another. And tell Merry, if she doesn't already hear
this message, that I never meant to do anything other than apologize
for my rotten family's behavior. Oh well, I will now say-Levy, in
France, out of France, or anywhere the mighty Pink Goddess wants me
to say it, because for those who never went past the dam sixth grade,
all that means in English is, “THAT'S
LIFE”!!!!!!
DECEMBER
9, 2015,
WEDNESDAY
NIGHT AT 10:36,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 67 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H78-/L-66).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 100%. WIND CHILL IS 66.
WIND
IS NEGLIGIBLE.
TOTAL
RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---0006.
My
fucking enemies screwed
up my spell checker again;
Federal Communications Commission, and Federal Bureau of
Investigation, and American Civil Rights Union. I booted off and on
again, and it is restored, so HA-HA-HA, MIKE MOTHER 'FUCKIGN'
MCNULTY, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!
Strange
shit is going on, but yesterday as well, same thing was happening,
really strange noises, not real loud, are heard all around me. Very
powerful and weird new computer hacks are happening and have been
from the second that I turned on this fucking computer, also, good
people. I want that on the record, old friend from 1972 in Dan
Mackey's class at Cooley Hall at school, Bob McDowell, and all other
authorities out here who need to do their job to protect and ensure
my civil freaking rights, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!! This is probably
going to be one of these real bad days, folks, and my stomach muscles
are all tensed up and ready for Mister Houdini's death punch of
retaliation. Yes this all started at 7:50 AM on this eleventh day in
March, give or take a few minutes. Less than an hour away, is thew
middle or second third of the third month. Towards the end, or start
points, of anything possibly divided up, I have observed with
meticulous precision, that the WOMO-MILITUFORCE, loves to start
picking the fuck on me, during these two parts of stuff. It has a
modus operandi, and it is very mathematical. I
call it magnetic percentage technology
and have, since about 1984; but let us go back now, and speak about
both exploratrons, as well as 1984; when these things were really
getting going, both in my life, and also, in the general population
of our entire race of life in this particular atomic universe.
It
fascinates me to no end, that my kid is so interested in the HG
version of my Infinispin, that I had told him about at the swimming
pool. What I would love to know more than anything, is why my mom and
your mom did all that stuff at the office, involving the tapes from
the Fascitar people, as well as Steve and Santa, and the biggest of
all, why all that YOYO'ing around, other than for the time in G.
City? If you would tell me that; I would do just exactly what my song
lyrics in 1983 promised a higher part of you that lives in a great
city of colorful giant phosphorescent gemstones on mega hundred story
skyscrapers. I now know where to go for any messages you may wish to
leave me, in this wild Wes Crusher Game of Pink-Treks!
What
folks do not know or understand, is anything about the ESS.
This
is not a bunch of aliens from distant expansion points that access
wormholes or any other silliness.
This is all EXPLORATRONS
of the TYPE-3 advanced section,
and nothing is being done for good or for bad, but merely all is a
huge GAME, and this is to distract those who know, that there is no
way to ever reach oblivion, ''NIRVANA''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHY
NOT GET TO KNOW ABOUT MY MAJOR
recurring nightmare school, THAT WAS
FINALLY FOUND WHILE
I WAS KINDNAPPED BY THE
MIGHTY KING BRANCH OF TAWF-70, YOUR EMINENCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
|
|
Atlantic
County, New Jersey
Atlantic County Government Web Site Public Safety |
 |
Atlantic
County GovernmentDEPARTMENT
OF PUBLIC SAFETY
Youth Detention, Harborfields |
|
Harborfields
operates under the auspices of the County of Atlantic, Department
of Public Safety and is managed, under contract, by the State of
New Jersey, Department of Law and Public Safety, Juvenile Justice
Commission. Harborfields is located on Buffalo Avenue and Duerer
Street in the City of Egg Harbor, New Jersey. The Program serves
male and female juveniles between the ages of 12 and 18 awaiting
court review for disposition, trial or other court action. The
facility has 8 secure beds for females and 19 secure beds for
males.
Harborfields
provides a secure, safe, clean and healthy environment for
court-detained youth. The dedicated staff of Harborfields are
consistent, tolerant individuals who work as team players. Leading
by example, the staff is able to provide to difficult youth much
needed self-discipline, respect for self and others and personal
responsibility.
Through
education and rehabilitation, emotional support, stability and
structure, the youth at Harborfields are dealt with as
individuals. At Harborfields the program prepares its youth to
reenter the community or to enter into Juvenile Justice Commission
programs.
With
the use of effective treatment methods, Harborfields is making a
difference in the lives of youth.
Harborfields
meets the needs of the community as a secure facility for
juveniles who have been deemed unsuitable for release pending
court appearance. Harborfields also works to stabilize juveniles
by structuring their day with educational activities.
1.
Counseling Component - Guided Group Interaction is conducted daily
by two staff for approximately 1 hour per session. Individual
Counseling is provided as needed by staff social workers.
2.
Academic Education, Special Education and GED preparation are
provided by the Atlantic County Special Services School District
with the expectation that youth will return to the regional public
school or transitional school.
3.
Drug and Alcohol Counseling as well as Narcotics Anonymous and
Alcoholics Anonymous sessions are provided through the County
Youth Services Commission, as needed.
4.
Recreation and Athletics are conducted in the facility gymnasium
by the Physical Education Teacher provided by the Atlantic County
Special Services School District.
5.
Sex Education and Parenting classes are provided by an on-site
Program Specialist.
6.
Community involvement is maintained through special events which
include speakers such as the Mayors of Atlantic City and Egg
Harbor, members of the police department, and people from other
walks of life.
7.
In House Detention Program - The facility manages a 10 slot
program which places youth onhouse arrest under the shared
supervision of parents and detention officers. The intention is to
have the youth continue in usual community activities pending
court appearance.
Upon
arrest, a juvenile must be seen by Juvenile Intake for
determination of detainable offense which would result in the
youth being remanded to Harborfields.
Sunday
1:00 PM - 3:00 PM - Family & Friends
Thursday 7:00 PM - 8:00 PM - Parents Only
Visitation
Requirements:
Visitors must present proper ID Visitors under 18 must be accompanied by an adult. No former residents are allowed to visit. Special visits available upon request, with approval of the Superintendent. |
This
website is sponsored and managed by Atlantic County Government.
This Page Was Last Modified on Saturday, October 02, 2010
For questions or further information please CLICK HEREemail pio@atlantic-county.org to contact the Public Information Officer.
This Page Was Last Modified on Saturday, October 02, 2010
For questions or further information please CLICK HEREemail pio@atlantic-county.org to contact the Public Information Officer.
And
if I know so much about what DREAMS really are, then why have I not
as of yet chosen to discuss the topic of what causes the serial and
recurring and dream within dreams, dreams, you may be all wondering
right about now, so allow me please to tell you the answer. I will do
my very best, so here goes, good folks,
WEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rigsby's
dad, in that great television show called, ''The Mentalist'', saw his
son burning his entire stash of illegal cigarets, and said to him,
''Did you burn my whole stash boy'', and the CBI Agent Rigsby said
right back to him, ''YIP''.
But last night, my wild hyperspace adventures in the police station,
began with me trying to sell the police officers on getting some
really weird new bright blue colored coffee mugs. Then things got so
dam off the wall, that even Roy's great Gravigain Hypertronic
Infinispin would not solve the equation for any of us, in 1997, or
any other year of those two millenniums, then, or
now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LIKE WO, Billy Harner, of Pine Hill, New
Jersey, USA, ESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!! And screw fuckiGN all of you monsters.
Jupiter,
Florida, welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel
12-Television.
ALONG
WITH THE GREAT WEATHER BUG APP, WEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!
JOHN J CROWLEY, Mister Tow-truck Ripoff dude from 1979, WOW, where
did it all really begin?
Nearby Offender: Thomas
Giordano »
 |
The man who ripped me off in 1979 with the tow truck deal:
|
Last
Known Address:
1201 ROBERTS WAY, VOORHEES, NJ, 08043
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Race:
|
White
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Sex:
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Male
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Eyes:
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Blue
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Height:
|
6'0
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Hair:
|
Brown
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Weight
|
205
lbs.
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Age/DOB:
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4/12/1947
|
Offense or Statute
Offense/Statute:
ENDANGERING THE WELFARE OF A CHILD Disposition Date: 29 March 1996
Alias(es)
JOHN
CROWLEY:JOHN H SPROWL
Collected from this official state registry website or page:
*No
representation is made that the person listed here is currently on
the state's offenders registry. All names presented here were
gathered at a past date. Some persons listed might no longer be
registered offenders and others might have been added. Some addresses
or other data might no longer be current. Owners of Homefacts.com
assume no responsibility (and expressly disclaim responsibility) for
updating this site to keep information current or to ensure the
accuracy or completeness of any posted information. Accordingly, you
should confirm the accuracy and completeness of all posted
information before making any decision related to any data presented
on this site. The information on this web site is made available
solely to protect the public. Anyone who uses this information to
commit a crime or to harass an offender or his or her family is
subject to criminal prosecution and civil liability.
More Nearby Offenders
Nearby Schools
0.78 Miles Away
0.95 Miles Away
1.00 Miles Away
1.00 Miles Away
Voorhees Township, NJ
Total
Crime Rating 60.51 
W---O---W
W---O---W
W---O---W
JANE
SLUTBAG THISTLETHORNS
JUST MOTHER FUCKING GOT AT ME, WITH ELEVEN- ELEVEN POST MERIDIAN; SO
HERE IS MY GOD DAM FUCKING COMPENSATION,
YO!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
END
TRANSMISSION.
PEACE
OUT, MISTER
MARCUCCI,
AND YOUR
COOL PALS!
Eat
your mother fuckiGN heart out; Lenny McKinnon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
CHRIS,
ED, AND THE MILITUFORCE BLOGAUD
DECEMBER
9, 2015,
WEDNESDAY
AFTERNOON AT 12:06,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 78 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H78-/L-66).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 76%, AND IT FEELS LIKE 82.
WIND
IS E AT 6, WITH GUSTS TO 11.
TOTAL
RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---0006.
My Global Audience in a Shade Ratio:
Yes
I am alive and still me, mildred Young!!!
HEAVENLY
BODIES OF ALL TYPES, ARE LOVELY TO GAZE AT, AND
THAT IS IT.
NO
ONE WILL EVER GET ME OFF OF THIS PLANET,
AND YOU HAVE ALL MY RESPECT, NASA; FOR
TAKING SUCH A DARE,
WHEN ALL YOU NEED TO GO ANYWHERE, IS TO REALIZE YOU ARE ALREADY
THERE; OR BETTER PUT PERHAPS, YOU
ARE NOT REALLY EVEN HERE TO BEGIN WITH.
TALK ABOUT FLUIDITY AND LIQUIDITY, IN BOTH CAPITALISM, AND
AUERONAUTICS, YO KIND FOLKS!!!
I
ran into an old time traveler today, when I left my doctor's office,
for my check up appointment. Every time I go there now, the doctor
has some wild emergency, and is running behind by a minimum of an
hour to an hour and a half. Sometimes, things need to be timed; huh
Mister William Pine Hill Harner??? No airplane can fly for 30 years,
and look and sound exactly the same. I used to call it the “UGLY
PLANE”, and it has a co-traveler, that I used to call, the “FIGHTER
PLANE”. We won't even start delving into the complexities that are
involved with all of this. I came out of the doctor's office
building, a hundred yards off of Nebraska Avenue, at just a couple
minutes shy of STOCK MARKET CLOSING BELL TIME, naturally, about 3:57
give or take, and it came roaring right over me. I gave it a military
salute. This plane is a time-plane, and it moves not only in the
skies over this planet, but also, through time, and thus never
appears to age, whatever time that I am in and perceive this aerial
vehicle in, as it just moves back and forth in the wink of an eye. I
first began being stalked and messed with by these two planes, in
late august of 1986, and it never ever stops. They are always there,
you know, like wonderful ADT!
HAPPY
FUCKING BIRTHDAY, WAYV-FM AND PAULA PATTY KING HOLLISTER WHATEVER
EXPLORATRON, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!
|
Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
|
PAu000204016
|
1980
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||
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
|
PAu003037983
|
2005
|
||
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
|
PAu002237985
|
1997
|
|
Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
|
Pau—stolen
form
|
2013
|
THIS
IS A PHONY DUPLICATION, AND BECAUSE THAT LADY STOLE MY COPYRIGHT
FORM, I CANNOT EVEN PRINT UP THE PAULA KING REGISTRATION
NUMBER!!!!!!!!!
THE
TERRORIST GIRL, WAS THE HYPERSPACE DARK SHADOWS PARALLEL WORLD
CLEANING LADY!
Not
506 Robin Hill mid-stay,
folks; but yes, it is now 5:06 Post Meridian (after-noon). So fucking
cunt eating WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Let's stop all this fuckiGN god dam
killing each other over silliness; people
of Planet Earth.
Can't
you see that in a few years, this whole world will be worse than
fuckign Rikers Island,
unless this horrible fuckiGN tide is turned?????? Well,
here goes me' poor whittle fucking SPELL-CHECK pwogwam, Mister Elmer
Fwudd.
Let me boot off and back on, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And yes, all
real New Yorkers know that there is a lot more on that island, than
just the famous jail,
that became
three times more famous,
after the greatest law show of this world, graced our television
presence, called, “L & O”!!!!!
JEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE,
PLEASE!!!!
HERE
IS WHY THE TIME-PLANE-UFO-EXPLORATRON STRUCK ME, AT MY DOCTOR'S
OFFICE; FOLKS. HOPEFULLY, YOU
ALL KNOW THIS BY NOW,
ALONG WITH MISTER ISLANDER BILLY JOEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AHA-AHA-AHA.
So
Mister Governor Kean from 1983 and 1984; if we all are ''perfect
together'', maybe my wonderful daughter would like to know if we are
fallen angels as well. Oh boy, Mom!!!
To
quote Diana, “Waterfalls
are so awesome”.
I
will take you to lovely waterfalls, endlessly, my precious sweet
Diana, just don't ever go away!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh little baby, won't you
stay???
LIKE
HOLY MOLEY HYPER WOW; MACY BUNCH, ATLANTIC CITY, AND ALL HATERS OF
MOUNTAINPEN, AND HIS POWERFUL TRUE STORY, E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E,
YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!
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. Then came the
real kicker of all kickers; Sheriff Mascara, and Attorney General
Pam Bondi, of Florida-USA-ESMWG. You can see it for yourselves
with the above pasted in U.S. Copyright Office PAU forms, that
show a history of my musical copyrights. My
1994 book, The Permission Barrier, is not included since
this was not a song; and only goddess knows why the roulette
system, from two years before that, in 1992; was included, as that
was not a song, but rather, a system for
playing 'inside numbers' roulette. Still, I
never was given a copyright on the song, and its
arrangement, back in 1980. They made
sure it was the following year, after the BEEGEE incident, and
did not include the name of my arranger on the copyright form.
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.
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
TOTALLY LEGALLY HEREBY SWEAR, THE ABOVE PARAGRAPH IS TOTALLY 100%
TRUE, THAT I AM THE AUTHOR OF THAT SONG, THAT I PAID FOR THAT
ARRANGMENT THAT WAS STOLEN BY THE BEEGEE MUSIC GROUP IN 1980; AND
THAT THIS ROTTEN ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY, HAS GONE AFTER ME, AND
RUINED MY ENTIRE LIFE; AFTER THIS ALL HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
Donna, it will most definitely be all right in the morning lightHOUSE
and in the morning light as well, Mister Wonderful Microsoft
Corporation Smartwords!!!!!!!!!!!
ALL
SAVANTS KNOW THIS ONE, ''THE END''.
Boy
oh boy, my people really do get around, and I am happy to see them
all doing whatever it is they do. You know life's a real real funny
old dog when you sit down to ponder on stuff, peeps. You're doing
your thing and Mountainpen sits here in South Central Eastern
Florida, USA, wondering what it all could be about, well, not totally
wondering perhaps, but the details will elude me of course, and then
I must wonder if these same great travelers, read my words from what
may sometimes seem to be further out than they'll ever travel,
understanding and comprehending it on levels that they indeed are
getting it on, but yet, its totally remaining always a bit like the
great butterfly song from decades now long gone by, you know;
ELUSIVE. Yeah, just a passing thought, but thought that I'd share it
my kind folks. Life really is a silly old dog, and again, three
cheers for Mister John Jack McCoy, the Phase-4 District Attorney of
New York county, in Manhattan, NYUSAESMWG. You go, Dick
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLF, YO!
GREAT
FOLKS OUT HERE, you are now reading CHAPTER 19.
Oh
well, wonderful kind lads and lassies all over the place, most
'Earthers' will always insist and proclaim, that Mountainpen
is just a total crackpot nut job, and that all of this is nonsense,
and garbage. Fine,
and I'll still fight and die for their right to say it and believe
it, and mock and jeer me;
despite tons and tons of posted evidence, that all proves that there
has to be something
to my Morianity story,
from 1995 through almost 2016. After all of these powerful things all
went down, and mathematically; it is not possible for this to be all
just random occurrences, unless you truly believe that this can be
far greater odds than any powerball-lottery-jackpot yet won, ten
times over, only someone who would buck and defy odds that stagger
the dam imagination, could possibly say that Mountainpen/Morianity,
is all a hoax, a lie, and or the product of total quintessential
madness and insanity. And yet, alas, just as those same, or some of
them, claim to believe is flying ships from beyond our planet, and
little alien beings too, and they cleave unto their ideas with
clenched fists, ready to take on Washington, DC, or the world;
believing some gigantic conspiracy of some powerful group, all know
some deep dark truths, and are keeping it from them. Oh
well, those same people give poor old little me that same BRICK WALL
treatment, huh
Mister Boxer McAndrews Hall! Yes sir, I must
be in with the fawces,
to exactly quote your cool accent; up there in Camden, New Jersey;
that is, should you still be amongst us breathers, here in the land
of the living. Am I right, gorgeous
J. L. Hewett Ghost-buster?
So now I hope to hear from any scientifically minded soul who can
show me the most miniscule lab-tested evidence for NOT BELIEVING one
thing at least, and that would be, that LIFE
IS A SILLY OLD DOG!
Well
Mizz Wonderful Know-it-all Mizz Mashell RPL Daniels of 1980,
“BULLSHIT
ON YOU, CUBED,
AND CUBAN,
AND THEN RE-SQUARED”!!!!!!!!
When
the great United States Copyright Office, put the order of my musical
projects together, on their web-page; that number
14 and 15, are the numbers corresponding to that love sonnet
that I indeed wrote in that year, for my PINK
GODDESS,
ALMIGHTY JEHOVAH!!!! And in 1969's great summer of love, I was
in-between year age numbers 14 and 15, precisely. Clues in the cosmos
couldn't get more loud, more visible, more clear, and more in my
face, if they literally had picked me up and shaken me until I died
of brain fucking ass concussion. There is no denying this Sarah
Krassle mess, from the tomb of a risen Jack In Jesus, to the Coral
Reefs of great sunny-paradise Florida in 2016!
I
have absolutely nothing to do with the way the United States
Copyright Office catalogs the 29 musical projects that I've sent to
them over decades of time. After the internet became available to the
general public in the early middle nineties, to the point where it
was a real entity and used by many folks who grew it to astronomical
proportions after that, THEY made up the file on my music, and it is
THEIR website. I only copied it to my BOM blogs. In fact, they
insist my project number 29 is there, but I have gone up and I am
unable to access it. But I have learned that I have no rights
or freedoms in this nation, and the rules that apply to everybody
mother fuckign else, just don't apply to me. I
am not allowed to get involved in MUSIC in any way, shape, or form,
not unless I want to be turned inside out, upside down, and assaulted
by the Milituforce in covert stealthy ways that go far beyond
inconceivable, despicable, and monstrously fuckiGN horrendous.
So I don't even try to understand why my copyrighted early
July-2013 project, called, “You'll
Be Crossing Over/My Youtube Project”, is not available
for me to access on the Copyright Office's web-site.
Just
discussing this topic, and my computer is beginning to mother fuckiGN
act up; my kind lads and lassies, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And
soon, MERRY CHRISTMAS!
FCC,
FBI, ACLU, MY CUNT LAPPING FUCKIGN DIRTBAG MILITUFORCE ENEMIES JUST
CRASHED ME AGAIN, AND ARE ASKING TO WIPED OUT AND FUCKIGN TOTALLY
DESTROYED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
great PINK-GODDESS of STAR TREK;
gee, just what is going on? How many out here know about my trip in
1972, up to Babylon, New York, to 175 Peninsula Drive, to visit with
my mom's cousin, Ruth Huntington Gottwald, at his mansion there? If
you don't, you won't be told any details right now,other than I
always took a tape recorder with me and was obsessed with tape
recorders at that time. How many know how I was taken on a road trip
on the second day of my visit, up to the north shores of this great
Woodie Guthrie Island, and had an experience that I blocked out of my
mind for 36 years, until it resurfaced in a dream on 5 October, in
2008? I, even then after awakening, believed it to be just a dream,
until I finally became my own head doctor, and admitted to myself
that I witnessed a horrendous event up at my daughter's house!
There are no
absolutes, but David Leigh Smith from Cooley-Hall had some very
wonderful advice for me that day after I returned from Ellisberg
Circle's weird school of machine-professors. I told on earlier blogs
a lot about this place, the Ellisberg Circle that is, not just
limiting this discussion to this school that was there. There was
mom's boyfriend who took mom and me by car one Saturday afternoon in
the autumn of 1969, to several stores there. My mom needed to buy a
mirror, and I was told to take it to the car, and given the keys, so
I could place it into the back seat, and then either come back and
find my mom and her boyfriend Sid, or at my discretion, remain in the
car until they completed their shopping task. I chose to do neither,
and took the mirror, and used it to almost cause a lot of serious
problems, by using it in a manner not intended by its manufacturer,
that is, to reflect bright blinding sunlight, directly into the face
of drivers. Today, the world of this new age would have seen me in
what I call, the Abbey Carmichael Law & Order way, you know, a
bad egg, a crazy nutty adolescent who needs to just be locked away,
for not conforming and obeying and saying yes sir, no ma'am to every
dam adult within my daily interactivity. Hey, I wasn't a really bad
ass, but I was quite the imp who could really piss off my mom's sort
of nutty boyfriend, Sidney, without, to quote Lenny McKinnon who I
would not go onto meet for eleven years, ''any doubt about it''.
Before this time,
back in the spring time of 1969, about a half of a year or so, I had
become friends, an d not by my choosing, but everything in this life
is always my fault and I am the perpetual absolute bad guy in all
things, as I shortly thereafter have come to learn; but yes, Brad and
I did some things that were bad, and I told about most of it, on
these blogs, the first two years of them, in 2006 and 2007. But why I
acted out, had something to do with being given this somewhat wild
bigger kid, who was fourteen months younger than me, in the body of a
seventeen year old, with the physical strength to match, and an eye
for the fairer gender, and on I can go here, but won't, since he is
not here to produce his side of anything that I might say; but yes,
he was a wild customer, and quite a pistol, and a lot more; but he
was my pal, and we did become close friends; about as close as any
two young teen boys could be, who lived in the same garden type
apartment system, of those times and days. But Brad was not the only
reason that I began going a bit loco in many various ways, such as
acting out with screaming and cursing, and being defiant with parents
and authority, abnd feeling life was somehow mistreating me, because
shit was happening to me, beginning early in February of that year,
and going strong, month after month, in ways that no blog could ever
really hope to adequately and properly address and define in terms
that would permit normal and average type of people, any ability to
identify and or relate to me, from their own personal private young
lives. I am speaking of three major things here, that most of you out
here know, or think that you all do, to some degree and some extent.
These being, the chain and the wild teen girl on Tennessee Avenue of
Atlantic City, the train and my suddenly remembering an entire half
century or more of a lifetime, where I had grown into a man and an
adult, lived a totally failed and fucked up life, and ended up
realizing that I had been repeating this loop of nightmares, similar
to being literally trapped in a helluish I-Ching Trance, for what
would seem to be about six to ten thousand years, give or take, if
all strung together. The biggest of all, was the first Saturday in
July, just shortly before Brad and his mom, Grace Messenger, moved
away, and took up residence in Cherry Hill, in the Stievasent Towers,
about two miles or more away from the Haddon Hills Apartments. I do
not have a play by play memory of the day it happened and the exact
events. It is jumbled broken up nightmarish fragments, just exactly
like the inverted digital year to follow, 27 years later, in 1996,
when the great exploratron Patty-Paula, got me a second time, and
this time, was witnessed to some degree, by a maintenance person at
the apartment I was at then, called the Highview Apartments, in
Monroe Township, Gloucester County, Williamstown, New Jersey, just
down the street from the famous Black Horse Pike, and the Gete's
Diner. My Spell-Check has been disabled, so I need to go off and come
back on, and fix my typos.
Discussing
exploratron-Patty-Paula or EPP for short, is like discussing Sarah
Krassle, as with both, this mother and daughter team have extremely
unfathomable abilities to do inconceivable and outlandish mystical
things, and they do them on a regular basis. If you do not think
about someone, yet begin to dream about them on a regular basis, this
means that they are thinking about you. I promise you that this is
true, but I am speaking in five dimensions, not three. This applies
to both of these 'people' and yes, I do single quote the word there,
as I do not know just who or what they really truly are. The game
that Sarah wants me to play with her, seems to imply that by its very
title that she spouted off to me on P. H. Day of 1996, and very
interesting symbolic initials too if I may add here; this game seems
to be all about indeed guessing who is 'real' and who is 'not real',
or who is the guest, which can very easily be interpreted to mean,
who has an active dreaming-doppelganger inside of them, hence that
would be the 'GUEST' that I will need to 'GUESS', if I am to
successfully navigate my way through this physical hellish life and
this horrendous HUNTINGTON FAMILY CURSE.
She said to me,
back on 7 December, of 1996, just shy of 5 AM, while I was dead
asleep and out of this world where my body was laying in my bed, and
I was on her great street, in-between the great TRINITY-HOTEL, and
the great and powerful monster dirt ball Robert McGuire's Hotel-Bar,
and I quote, “Let's play a game boy, called GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS”.
As I said and I
ain't ashamed to admit to this truth that was not my fault at all;
after 1969 and all of this wild shit, it is beyond amazing that I
have any degree of rational fuckiGN sanity remaining. ''But still'',
Detective Lenny Briscoe sir; as the great Mister Al Jolson the
musical legend said, decades and decades back into time, YO, “You
ain't heard nothing yet”!!!
Folks, it's past
my dam freaking bedtime by two hours, at 2:36 Ante' Meridian (before
noon). It is the ninth day in December now, here in 2015, on a
predawn Wednesday morning, here in Fort Pierce, Florida, USA. It is
66 degrees here in town at the local airport, and is predicted to
drop to 62. Now take all of that horse shit, and all the horses asses
all over the planet as well, and a five dollar bill also, and you can
either exchange this for twenty shiny quarters at most banks, or just
go to Mickey-D and enjoy a small fries and a burger. Boy oh boy oh
boy, Mommy, and Moomy Deaest, and Betty Roaches Dindin Davis!!!
''MELLLLLY
MELLLLLY CLISMAS''; Ex-FCC Director-Chairman, Bob McDowell; old
buddy, from 1972, at the great wonderful awesome Cooley Wormhole Hall
of Haddonfield!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015
©
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
CHRIS,
ED,
AND
THE
MILITUFORCE
BLOGAUD,
CHAPTER
0000
Well,
I did drown in 1995, in South Atlantic City. Remember, I am the one
in 1984 from Highland Avenue.
AND
LASER RETRACE AND DISTANCE DELAY LUNSAT FIELD TECHNOLOGY ALL ASIDE,
FOLKS; I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT, AND
NEITHER DOES THE GREAT DAWN-MARIE KING, OR THE MYSTERIOUS AUTO
MECHANIC, WITH THE LOGO'S ALL OVER HIS DAM WEIRD JERSEY, YO YO YO YO
YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
am getting real mother fucking sick and tired of this mother fuckiGN
COMPUTER HACKING, AIR HARASSMENT, PROPERTY DAMAGE, HEALTH ATTACKS,
AND PERSECUTION IN ALL WAYS IN THIS FUCKED UP MISERABLE ROOTEN ASS
NATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well
between that monster punch that Keisha pounded my right arm with,
fracturing the bone, back in 1999, and Steve getting his Halloween
pelt and pummel from lovely Patty-Paula, like super ouch; YO; WOW,
you and me are two near time amputee patients, huh old neo-ho-rengay
key oh, chanter guy?
Hey,
it looks pretty, YO.
The
Bum
Classification,
CHAPTER
0000.
Patty
and the gang just
illegally
froze up my mother fuckiGN computer,
WOW,
it is 2008 all over again,
and
going on 080808 too. A really big fucking WOW, and a big fucking
JEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE,
if you please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
KEEP
READING ALONG, AS:
JUST
BECAUSE YOU RECOGNZE WORDS,
Never
assume there is not any new reading material.
3-6-9,
Frank Callio, Astral Realms, and Nicola Tesla.
WOW, there was an old OUTER
LIMITS syfy show
about a fictional radio station called KXKVI.
Like
WOW, Mister Macy-34.
In
1975, when Jim Burr rescued me from that horrible Halloween party,
and those Satan worshiping nabes, ''the Kaufman's'' next door, who I
called them by; since they always did that Walt Disney trick, to let
you know they were there, by always coughing intentionally, when they
came anywhere close to where you would be, whether going out or
coming in. It is a psychological condition if you carefully analyze
and study with real scrutiny, the entire great book of mental
illness, the “DSM-5”. While Jim and I drove around Lindenwold,
and watched the ghost and goblin kids all dressed up out pirating for
some nice candy; my mom was working at her shipping company in
Philadelphia, with coworker Patricia Hurricane Hollister. Maybe Eddie
Himacane Lynch was a time traveler all along and no one bothered to
recover his repressed memories of it. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA,
Mister McNulty. Yes sir, while Jim and I were escaping Halloween
parties that were quite hellish, he had just left Gloucester, where
Patty and Merry and all other wonderful patched pirates, and
Jokester's, were hanging around, and securing their bags of sweets
and candies. Well, and why not. We all are a bunch of hanging in
there Huntington's. I'll never ever mother fucking forget the day of
th e2007 summer town forest fire, up in Berryville-Hammonton, an dhow
WAYV said to us, “Hang in there Hammonton”. Yeah, and I'll bet
you were thinking of one resident in particular, who was being a
hanging in there Huntington, ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHEEEEEEEEEIT.
END
TRANSMISSION, YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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