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AFTER
MORIANITY
FOR MILLENNIUM 3
To
be completely honest, lads and lassies; it is beyond surreal
and weird, times three billion; to know all the stuff I know.
But I also know the other stuff that I mentioned before, and
won't insult you by wasting time rehashing any of this dam
bullshit!!!!!!!!!!! With any one of a dozen experiments, most
of the items and claims made in this decade long blog, can be
proven to anyone who puts me to the test. I have nothing at all
to be ashamed about, merely totally and thoroughly dam
disgusted!!!!!!!!! Oh
boy, Mommy Dearest!
The
very first time that I had my paranormal exploratron attack,
was in a classroom in first grade towards the end of the school
year, in Miss Mulhall's class. Right after recess ended and
everyone was back in class along with our teacher, early in the
afternoon, at the Richland Avenue Elementary School of
Quakertown, Pennsylvania; a group of exploratrons all jumped
into various students, sitting all around me, and one by one,
and for absolutely no god dam mother fucking reason whatsoever
on this gods green brown Earth; they began telling the teacher,
Miss Mulhall; and I quote, total lies concerning my behavior on
the school bus, “He hits on the bus, he spits on the bus”
and although I managed to put the rest of this below my
conscious mind because it was so horrendous for a six year old
child to have to suffer this horrendous mother fuckiGN torment
and torture when I'd done no such thing, and in fact, I thought
I was losing my mind, and that I had done all these things, and
was going fucking crazy. It took me years to realize
eventually, that this was not me, as usual, being the bad guy,
but the evil dirt bag fawces of Mister Hall, doing despicable
and monstrous things to me. Yes the start of my second decade
here in this world, as MARK WAYNE MOHR, or the early nineteen
sixties, wasted no time whatsoever, bringing me the very first
of the soon to follow, endless unrelenting games containing
playfield after playfield of nothing short of my mother fucking
life in total unfathomable torrid horrid HELL, with or without
the singing glee's of the Tora Lora Lora Lora Lies and other
birds singing that the springtime is here. So if I had to tell
where I first fucking cock sucking encountered this life long
paranormal esoteric shit all around me, it would be in
Quakertown in the first years of the nineteen mother fucking
cunt sixties. Then right around this same time, came the dead
children who spoke to me at playgrounds, two different ones,
the little boy my age, and the little girl my age. Now people,
I am the only person on this planet, that would DARE LOOK A
SUPREME COURT JUDGE, STRAIGHT IN THE FACE; AND TELL THEM under
pain of penalty if indeed they can prove me lying to them; that
my entire story called MORIANITY, over a now just less than 8.5
year time period; is all totally 100% true and accurate, other
than for the one lie I admit that I told that Sarah was there
that night with her great gang, on that public bus at around
10:30 PM, the night of 12 July, back in the year 1970. I now
make this pledge and oath and swear officially on this writing,
to this statement, to all nine Supreme Court Justices, and if
you can prove I am a fake or a phony hoaxer, then I WANT YOU TO
THROW MY MISERABLE WORTHLESS FUCKING ASS IN CUNT LAPPING
PRISON, as that is where I would belong!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Some
time ago, I would encounter a lot of entities while
'exploring-dreaming', towards the ending years of this
century's first decade; and they would seem to enjoy finding me
in very unpleasant situations, and would love to say to me
along the lines of, or on many occasions, directly quoting the
words here, “Try
getting out of this one”,
sometimes adding and using my first or Christian name of Mark,
other times, not doing that. Recently this happened, and has
not happened for about two or three years that I can pull up in
my head right at the moment. My daughters Pee and MY were with
me at some small private get-together, like a back yard pool
party with no fence lines separating homes on both sides as
well as beyond on the other side where a home sat at the next
street over. No one seemed to be living in any of these other
homes, and it all appeared to be deserted, or at least, I was
somehow of this opinion, based on some observations while there
quite a while, that I won't bother getting into. Pee was
telling me that Zvonko was trying to buy the rights to her
computer towers, and she told him to get lost several times,
and MY heard this conversation, and walked over closer to us
from where she had been with her family, having a nice time
talking and dangling feet into the pool. She said next time he
comes around, have him call the eighty four sixty four number
around just shy of 3 in th afternoon next Friday. I am just
telling what happened. Suddenly Ann King walked into the party
from the street, along the side area of the house and she was
shouting that her daughter died for nothing; and that these
inventions should all be totally broken, and destroyed; and
that they are very evil. She was asked to leave; and suddenly
her son Joe, and her grand daughter Gemma, Joe's kid; also
popped up, coming from the same side of the house. Suddenly at
this exact point, I remembered being in this house a thousand
times, and living a life there every bit as real as the life I
am living here. Gemma called Pee a real nasty bunch of names
and PEE glared at her. They are both powerful giant goddesses,
but PEE is a super giant goddess. She grabbed Gemma and tore
one of her arms right off of her shoulder., and then she pushed
her powerfully and helplessly into the deep end of the yard in
ground 25 foot long swimming pool. No one did anything other
than stand there and watch all of this go down in absolute
horror. Then Gemma floated up to the surface, and the pool was
full of red blood. She was dead. An outside intercom system had
a radio placed near the send station and the button switched to
on, and the radio station began to play an old Chiffon's song
from the middle sixties that was one of my faves at the time,
called, “Sweet talkin' Guy”. After this song ended, the
female Deejay began to speak about something mundane, maybe it
was an advertisement for something, and then suddenly, the
voice of Gemma overtook the system, and only her voice could be
heard. She said that she did not appreciate being killed, and
that PEE would pay for this. Then like in a zombie movie, her
dead body in a trance like state began climbing out of the pool
and walking over towards PEE. I ran over to try and stop her,
and she struck me in my solar plexus with the force of a
fucking freight train, and I doubled over totally windless and
unable to inhale a breath, falling further and all the way down
to a fetal type position gasping. PEE walked over to her and
punched her in her face so hard, that her entire face was no
longer recognizable, looking more like a very large broken egg
without any yellow color. Then PEE literally picked Gemma up,
all 230 pound of her, a girl made of nothing but powerful
muscle, all six feet of her; and she threw her 30 yards through
the air crashing her against the house, right on the hard
bricks, and also near enough to the dining room windows to
totally shatter all of them out with a loud shrill chilling
frightening sound. Both of her legs were broken, and yet she
floated up without her legs operating, and began floating over
to PEE, and PEE hit her again; this time so hard that it
sounded almost like a sonic boom. Gemma's entire head broke
into ten pieces or more, and each broken piece literally rolled
off of her neck, and some of the guests were throwing up and
fainting all over the place while all this terrible horror was
going on. Then the entire swimming pool turned bright cherry
red and began swirling around as if it was a hot tub on full
force and not a pool at all. Watery blood came shooting up and
out all over the lawn, and as this was happening, the flowers
and grass everywhere that was contacted by this horrible
blood-water, instantly shriveled up and turned brown-yellow,
and died in seconds. My heart began beating so fast, I was
pretty sure I was going to have a fatal heart attack. Then
after my heart was pushed beyond its limit, it exploded in a
massive coronary thrombosis. I found myself in the year 2055.
Suddenly PEE was holding onto my arm and we were standing in a
cemetery and a funeral was going on. It was the funeral of my
older daughter, who had just died a week earlier in September
of that year, and I asked PEE what the date was, and remember
distinctly asking this of her, and her telling me, “Daddy,
it's September twenty-second”. Then the dreamshift took me to
another place I have never seen before; batting me now 3 for 3,
for not recognizing any of these three scenes so far in this
super wild experience from a few days ago that I did not get
around to telling about on any of my blogs. I asked PEE why I
am still here as Mark Wayne Mohr, at age 100. She took out a
mirror from her purse and gave it to me, and I stood there in
utter shock. I looked exactly like the photo on my blogs, only
I was 100 now, going on 101. Then the earth shook violently and
voices came from every grave in the entire place, sending
people right after the funeral had ended and folks were just
standing all around talking solemnly to each other; all running
for their lives in sheer and total fear. Then I saw them, the
three 'ESS-LADIES' that I had been introduced to, in a parallel
universe, in early 2014; 41 years earlier. They had that witch
laugh just like we all see in the fucking movies, and I stood
my ground and demanded to know what they wanted of me, and did
they have no shame and no humanity, since I had just lost my
daughter and was here attending her funeral. Then one of them
said to me, I am your daughter, the first and the last, the
Alpha and the Omega, and just try getting out of this one, and
with that, they all grew to about twice normal height, around
11 feet high. FCC, Bob McDowell, this is now the third mother
fucking time, they have used their fucking (DISAPPEARING WORD
HACK) on me. I just now went to fuckiGN cunt repair the last
one, and the Milituforce did it again; FEDERAL
COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION,
A FOURTH MOTHER FUCKING HACK OF WORD DISAPPEARANCE, in total
fucking cunt lapping violation of my CIVIL, HUMAN, AND
CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS AS A UNITED STATES BORN FREE FUCKING CUNT
EATRING CITIZEN, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!! Now they
struck me with a mother fucking (`~HACK), BOB MCDOWELL, and I
really could cunt lapping use some mother fucking help here,
FBI, ACLU, and all other civil fucking servants,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank fucking you!
Some
folks wonder why I discuss making money consistently by playing
roulette as a professional gambler in casinos, and just how
this ties into Morianity and AFTER
MORIANITY PROJECT (AMP)! Well, it sure does, my kind
sweet folks, and IPYT!!!!
The
entire ten years to the day practically except for maybe a half
dozen days to go, on this blog, is about none else other than
PARALLEL EVENT, or more
accurately, it's about the misuse of this wild tool that as
with most things of great power, Mister and Doctor OZ and PHIL,
and whoever is out here; stuff like this is always abused by
humanity, used wrongfully to hurt and injure lots of innocent
fucking blood!!!! This is what my Morianity is all about,
nothing more, and nothing less, YO!!!!!!!!!
Rather
than go on and on, other blogs will start telling all sorts of
bullshit. I have some new fucking attitudes about many things
from my past in this current-me lifetime, because and based on
I would suppose, so many continuing life experiences. The
reality does not alter, but all of us do indeed start to
develop new personal feelings and attitudes towards those non
changing realities around us. This is just being human, and we
all are that, to quote mister 1972 Bruce Pennock.
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
will get into the events of the past couple days, not a lot is
going on, since MORIANITY officially ended, and for the
purposes of this new journal that will act as if nothing ever
happened to stop it, twice, first when I merged it with the New
Testament of Morianity and made it one and the same thing after
the summer of 1997 when I ended this journal that began on
February 1, 1983, in Atco, New Jersey, and was then called,
''PHONE PROGRAM 1'' on the 'A' side, and ''PHONE PROGRAM 2'' on
the 'B' side; and then each following cassette tape, was the
next higher integers, so that on the 'A-side' it was always an
odd number, as well as two numbers higher than the previous
cassette tape, and on the 'B-side' it was always an even
number, as well as two numbers higher than the previous
cassette tape. Now taking an average, from the time this
started on February first in 1983, and where I ended it in the
summer of 1997, somewhere around the low 12,000 amount in
numeration, I then simply average where this might have been if
I was in a parallel universe where it went on to this very day,
and there never was a Morianity, nor did I ever stop my ''LIFE
JOURNAL''. Doing this takes one very simple mathematical
process. I took 12,000 and divided by the amount of rounded off
years of the existence of the journal, 1983-1997, or 14 years,
dividing 12000 by 14, and then multiplying this average annual
cassette A/B side journal tape number, and multiplying by the
amount of years it would be from 1983 through the end of last
year or 2013, which means 12,000 divided by 14 multiplied by
30, or really thirty fourteenths of 12000, 30/14X12000. The
calculator purchased at the Fort Pierce Dollar Store three or
four years ago, shows this figure to be 25714.285, and so I
merely rounded it off so I can start at a nice clean 25,700,
just dropping the 14.3 or just less than this.
This
was a hostilitygram day, as I went on a couple small errands,
and bought ice cream to tide me over until the end of the week.
There were no sales on any brand that I buy, so I only bought a
small amount of the Publix brand, which is always under five
dollars at the Publix Store, and I have learned to enjoy this
brand of ice cream just about as much as Breyers, as before I
came to Florida, it was Breyers or nothing, and proves you can
teach an old dog new tricks, in case the world may just be
remotely interested. Peeps were extremely unfriendly all over,
so screw them right back. The world has become a very horrible
rotten ass place, and you can multiply that by about three
hundred and ten thousand or so, give or take, or whatever, Oak
Street Bob, old 1975-1980 buddy!
Yes,
not cooperating with the system and getting into social media,
cost me a blog viewership. Now ask me if I could give a rats
freaking bloody shoe butt, Mister 1979 Figs!
A
slight cooling off, not much, but a few degrees from the
continual low eighties afternoons, came as a gift from the
gods, down here in Fort Pierce. I suppose to many in the north,
they would take our weather in a heartbeat. This is of course
what makes this good old world of ours, go around, different
opinions, different situations, even different weather. Gee
Whiz, gosh golly darn Jimminy crickets, Jimmy Stuart and Oz
Dorothy, go figure, YO. Who would ever believe any of this,
Mister James Redfield, sir? Does even the father of the NAM
(New-Age Movement)? My best to lovely Stacey in Atlantic City,
if you run into your gorgeous distant cuzz.
Doors
were pretty nasty between shortly shy of three and about a
quarter before four. I will bet big money, the ICPE on the DOW
JONES, as always, was why it was going down. There is just no
escaping this nightmare, not until I can die and remain
endlessly dead, or not Mark Wayne Mohr, forget endlessly dead,
that is pure illusion. I exist, that's it, time is only real in
this lower physical hyperspace dream-down. Funny how I learned
this at the beach right there, a holler away from the great
Robert McGuire's Irish Pub, Pittsburgh Hotel, and all the other
nightmares of Tennessee Avenue, of Atlantic City, New Jersey.
My
Keyboards From Petahell acted up a few days ago. It is
unbloggable, and only the Almighty Herself could have pulled
this electronic miracle off, at least, IMHO. Suddenly, after
pushing the very same sequence of buttons, my cassette recorder
that is connected into a mixer and the mixer connected then
into the entire system, insisted on playing at double speed
even though no dubs were being made, and this is the only way
high speed play is generated; and even on a dubbing mode, you
need to push the high speed button, to accomplish that; and
this button was OFF, not ON. The only way to stop this, is to
play the tape on the opposite side, or insert a different tape,
let it play a few seconds normally, and then eject and place
the original tape and side back into the cassette deck. But
after I did this and the tape played at a normal speed, I went
to record from my Windows Media Player in my PC, onto the tape;
and hit the very same record and cue buttons so that I can
monitor how it sounds through the mixing board and alter
anything or add or take away anything; and that is then how it
comes out on the tape, and suddenly; I had to take my
headphones off. I tried everything, lowering the volume on the
computer keyboard controls, turning the master as well as the
mixer number volume levels totally off, but some powerful sound
that was mind bending, was coming though. The only reason the
phones took it was because I have a special pair connected into
my work station that I only use for music, that I purchased on
a very special sale where peeps are selling an entire house of
stuff, and need cash to move for personal reasons; and believe
me, I did not ask questions. Not when there is a pair of top
end Sony phones that I personally know from the model number,
sold about ten years or so ago for nearly a grand at music
stores. You cannot blow them out, your ears would blow long
before they would. Sony makes some incredible stuff, if you
have thousands and millions, or just luck out as I did for once
in my life about a year ago, as I got them for two sawbucks.
Back to the situation however; my entire media file played, and
there was no stopping it. I remember thinking this very thing,
and it even brought to mind a really cool old original Star
Trek television episode, where Lieutenant Commander Scott
(Scottie) says to Captain James Tiberius Kirk, ''There's no
knowing, and there's no stopping it either''. I really felt
like I was in deep space and in that show, only really out
there without the Hollywood fiction attached. When it came to
the final song that played, and recorded, ''You'll Be Crossing
Over'', it is nothing at all like the version originally
recorded. It was even far greater than what I had redone back
on August 28 of last year, 2013. You would not be able to tell
my daughter is not really singing the harmony parts. The
machine-sound is gone, and the talent parts are so enhanced,
that it is like listening to 'Hero' or one of those great
songs. I did not touch the machine at all since this happened,
nor did I think about it or talk about it. I enjoyed Sunday
morning's ''Law & Order'' on television, and did not so
much as touch my computer, or any of the attachments that all
feed into each other. But this morning around shortly after
three, around 15 hours ago, I went to try and see if this was
still doing this Pope-Canon-Miracle or PCM as I'll refer to
these things from now on, and it is just as if it never
happened, except for one thing. The blank cassette that I was
using, to run a test originally on something totally non
relating to any of my songs, that copied this; was from a pile
of three tapes that I had found a few days ago, buried under
papers on my dining room table, that was there for over a year,
still wrapped together unopened, brought down here to Florida
from back in Jersey; and they were high bias tapes, with real
great sound quality, and was why I was running a test; or about
to before all this wild crap began. I figured the tape, even
though it played clear and beyond terrific through the
headphones that I had to literally throw off of my head due to
the volume coming out of them, would be totally saturated and
distorted. Instead the levels came out totally differently on
playback, as when it recorded, it had the LED's jammed to plus
ten and unblinking, but on playback it was around minus 8 to
minus 4 DB-SPL on the volume unit LED meters, peaking at not
even 0. Yet the sound was blaring loud, and perfect, and
without one iota of distortion. Before I went to sleep for the
day to wake up today, I burned this cassette copy into my WMP
files on my PC. Everybody told me I could not do this without
purchasing a special program to install. All you do is buy one
little plug wire attachment at the Radio Shack, and it defeats
the need to do all that, and make the software billionaires,
any richer than they already are, and need to be. Somehow, I
have to dissect my junk, and figure out how this happened by
pure accident; so I can repeat this; and then build something
that will perform this entire electronic wizardry. I hear over
and over on television how people want to be able to sing or
even hear there voice again after it is lost from some illness.
Way back 35 years ago, I had a way to sample and then create
anything from that sample, and now, I have something even
better; but the problem is that I am going to have to try about
fifty thousand things, to see which one made this all do this
exact thing, back earlier last week; as right now, it won't do
it. I suppose this is why I was literally kicked out of
churches back in the seventies. They all said I was possessed.
Well if Satan is doing all of this, then why won't he let me
have a good life? Jim Burr used to be half nuts over this, and
said if this ever gets out, it will ruin Christianity; and he
is correct. His exact words spoken upon several occasions to
me, ''It just makes no sense, Satan loves sin and people
sinning, yet he won't even let you sin''. Whatever is really
happening, on a spiritual, scientific, philosophical, or
whatever-Congressman Andrews, level; IT IS HAPPENING, and that
much I do know. Yes James Redfield, I swear, I never ever put
any label on any of my cassette tapes, called, ''The Meaning of
Life'', but someone else did. Maybe the same someone who is the
real invisible creator on my KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL; who can
ever really know; right United States Office of Copyrights?
Another funny little final footnote from Donna's pretty white
boy, US © Office from 1988; the news just came on last night,
and told how Radio Shack is going to close something like 5,000
stores. This happened right after I made a purchase there, that
very plug wire I just told about that defeats the purpose of
buying a 300 dollar freaking software program. Coincidence,
Mister Yogi Berra, sir? Well, I already know your take and spin
on that one, and I am a silly fool to ask you this, so let me
now blow out PEE Senior's candles, and let you go back to your
nice rest, yeah, sure, TEE HEE HEE Lilly-M!
Yes
indeed, there is a new beauty in town; and she will be totally
full on Love Day, and she knows how much I love her. You are
my lovely moon, my endless love, Diana Arteemis. I'm
watching you, big lovely girl, and we don't care whether Steve
Marcus, or any artist on the radio; wants to hear it or not,
right 1-2-3 Lover of 1983? Follow me wherever I go, all
throughout the ''lines of
change''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes,
those lines of change are not just me in 1983 changing phone
numbers to try and run away from lovely wonderful MIDDIE. I'll
never be a Jonah Whale ever ever again, SSJKK. That is my
solemn promise to you, from your David of so long ago. You were
so lovely at that gate in Eden, oh the gods, do I love you so,
my great Sarah Krassle!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
lots of weird electronic magic and trickery is happening these
days. Real experienced lifelong technicians call ''FM''
Freaking Magic''. Most are not so polite, and do not say
'freaking', but another ''F'' word.
I
no longer plan on ever again monitoring my counts, or hits on
my blog sites; or doing anything like this. I am just speaking
on a life journal, and posting the words up for safe keeping,
and That is all I am doing.
I
have a lot of huge problems that I will have to deal with, and
it is not safe to write and post them, so unlike the days where
I really was speaking words onto cassette tapes, I need to be a
bit more careful just how much I write. Still, I am going to
unravel these Babylonian great mysteries, with or without going
out to the movies to see any super sleuths, and with or without
distant relatives; and all of that jazz; or rock, opera, rap,
or big bands!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nighty-night
big KALI COW CALL-10 CALLIO and family. Slam me up against all
the high wall AC units you want to, or slam me around in
Atlantic City, or the other AC as I jokingly have come to call
it. Well, really, in reverse; I sometimes call air
conditioning, THE OTHER AC, right Mister Harrah Sarah other
universe 1986 magic labs of the real north, Mizz Patty
Hollister? The girl that picks up 300 pound couches like they
weigh 20 pounds. They are not making girls like they used to,
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, and this was in 1975, Bob Andrews, my old pal;
with or without riding me back home to 1118 Linden Hill
Apartments of lindenwold, New Jersey; on that late summer
night. Hay, everybody is always too busy for me. My absolute
totally hugest mystery is this: SO BUSY DOING EXACTLY
WHAT???????? Just what is everybody so dam ass busy doing? Here
is one for NSA to really frikkin' start looking into. See, I am
being a good citizen, and trying to help out my great wonderful
country!
Who
knows that 1+2+3+4+5 all the way up to +36, equals 666? What is
the real relationship between 666 and 36 after such a wild
number rhythm is found, we may be left to wonder?
If
we just took this to the number 5, we would end up with 15/5.
If we took it to number 8, we would get 26/8. There is indeed
something to this, but a lot more is also involved, and when
irrational numbers are also played with; some really far out
shit can start to draw pictures for us. Well, as with heaven,
this all can wait!
MARK
WAYNE MOHR AND HIS LIFE JOURNAL IS NOT STOPPABLE, IT WILL GO ON
UNTIL THERE IS NO MORE MARK WAYNE MOHR. HOW I CHOOSE TO
PRESERVE OR ATTEMPT TO PROTECT IT, WILL BE MY OWN BUSINESS, AND
DONE HOWEVER I CHOOSE TO DO IT. SOME THINGS ARE STILL LEGAL AND
FREE IN THIS GREAT YOU ESS OF A.
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