>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 43
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 43
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
©
BOM 2006-2016 MARK WAYNE MOHR
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
JANUARY
8, 2015,
FRIDAY
AFTERNOON AT 1:14 (Jane Shitwhore),
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 71 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H-71/L-60).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 87%, FEELING LIKE 76.
WIND
IS SE AT 6, GUSTING SLIGHTLY TO 7.
TOTAL
RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---1.
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2016.
CUNTHEAD
JANE THISTLETHORNS, JUST MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' SCREWED ME AGAIN, AT
EXACTLY ONE ELEVEN, ON THIS TURD CHEWING, TOILET WATER DRINKING
AFTERNOON. ROTTEN WICKED FUCKING WATER WITCH BITCH SLEAZE BAG
PRICK!!!!!!!!!!
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That
cunt chewing fucking death-angel, Morty Mortino has buzzed in my ear
all day fucking long, on my left god dam fucking side, and this last
time was, yeah you all guessed it, as it made me look behind my
little screen blocking sticky tape, to see those nasty ass mother
fucking three ones!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well
to quote the great peeps of Comcast; LIGHTNING
SPEED INTERNET. As for me, it has been 20
years now of HACKED INTERNET, and cars parking on my property
that for all I know had bombs that went off in them. How would this
1406 Highlander ever know the difference, Mister McLeod?
I'm
back,
EVIL CHUCKIE, DAWN-MARIE, BEETLEJUICE NONSTAR, and FREDDY ELM!!!!!
AND MISTER MCDONALD SIR; with any and all great POKER-HANDS, “I'M
LOVIN' IT”!!!!!
THE
DARYL BWADLEES JONES:
HHHHHHHOOOOLY
HELL-WATER, SARAH CALLIO MARTINO; your retirement party is coming up
soon, and you need not concern yourself about inviting poor old
Mountainpen. Maybe it's already come and gone, YO. I ain't in the
family loop, even though I am good enough for their great
Leprechaun-DNA experimentation's over there in the great north
Shamrock Lands, of falling Sahasra Dal Kanwal!!!!!!!!
Your
big day is coming up too, other 'S. C.' initialed person, so
HO-HO-HO! MY BEST TO MERRY'S MOM! Or maybe it is fifty weeks away,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And
to quote my GAP Cousin Donald MacInvondi of all phase-4
transdimensional realities being manipulated to attempt defeating the
circuitry of Lawtronics, “Like I give a
shit”!!! W-O-W, Mister Red-High
Macy-34, and a 'pass' to Shapiro if you
will, Mister Kerns, and Haddon Township High School authorities of
1967. “Boy oh boy oh boy”, Uncle
Wonderfulife Billy, and Mommy Dearest; what a
life this all was, is; and I suppose
will be endlessly. Forgive me if I call it sub-vampirism,
or maybe even god dam HELL!
WE
CAN POUT OR SHOUT, BUT ALL THIS IS GOING TO GET US IS LOTS OF DARK
SMELLY COAL IN OUR X-MAS STOCKING. HALLOWEEN 1974 WAS BAD ENOUGH FOR
YOU AND HALLOWEEN OF 1975 WAS BAD ENOUGH FOR ME, SO WHO NEEDS THAT
ADDED BASKET OF BAD KARMA?
We
have talked a lot about the Exploratronic Supermind Society. I
have discussed how Diana tells me who reads these blogs. I
also have told you that nothing is what it appears to be, ever
since the female or (creator) part of all existence, discovered the
magic triangle (hyperspace, dreaming, exploratrons). But
these are not real super fucking easy dots to all connect up.
To begin with, all of the agencies that work covertly are owned and
controlled by ESS from someplace, but where? Even terrorists such as
the ISIS people or whatever you can possibly think of, and those who
terrorize me medically, calling themselves the American Medical
Association. Who really is inside any of those who rule and govern
over these bodies of great awesome fucking power? If you think that
the ESS is just one other parallel universe, you have badly
interpreted Morianity's teaching of fifth dimensional hyperspace, as
well as how absolute power loves to absolutely corrupt, just as Kirk
Captain Shatner knew only too well about how his once Star Fleet
Academy pal, Gary Mitchell, after PINK-GODDESS had morphed him into a
god. There may be lots of organization and even control and policing
to various degrees, of this powerful and unfathomable group that
Morianity has labeled and given the name of the ESS, but that doesn't
mean to imply even for a dam ass microsecond on the streets of New
York city, that this entire operation is under the total control or
ownership of any one parallel universe, let alone, any one person,
agency, or other possible grouping of sentient carbon life!!!!!!!!!!
If things were only that mother fucking easy, kind folks. To quote
Dawn King and Pop, “SHEEEEEEEEEEEEIT”!
Doe,
a queer, a Ventnor queer
Ray,
the weapons used by scum
Me,
a name when used two times
Let's
me know that I'm all done
Fa,
this follows doe-ray-me
So,
the cool thing said by Crane
La-La-La-La-La-La-La
Then
comes tea which brings us dough.
Yes,
I'll be hanging around for a while, Cousin Huntington, Cousin Trump,
and Cousin Mohr. They have tried to kill me before. I'll adjust as I
always do, to my lower dosage, and I thought things were all fucked
up, GAP LAB-TECH ESS TRAVELER PINK GODDESS, early in 1984 when I was
down to ten from 28 Mg of Ativan, and now have gone down from 7 to
3.5 and eventually 0. Trump and the Entertainment-Bizz, have been
trying to fucking stealthfully covertly ice me for decades and
decades, and I'm still here, and hanging around; Herbert and Arthur.
Well, it is you who are not, and neither is Auntie Alice, and her
axed up Ma. WOW-THAT!!!!!!!!! Yes
Mister Dick Wolf,
and
for all I know you're distant cuzz's Star and Allan; “My
life ended in the year 1970”,
just as I told Greek owner son, parking-lot John, in July of 1997, on
10-SC Avenue, Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG, YO
BRAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
|
||||||||||
***(((((]]]]]]]]]][[[[[[[[[[)))))***
]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]][[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[
KEYBOARDS
FROM PETAHELL ® 1980
MARK
WAYNE MOHR
PINK
GODDESSES & MORNING
LIGHTS
PINK
GODDESSES & MORNING LIGHTS
PINK
GODDESSES & MORNING LIGHTS
PINK
GODDESSES & MORNING LIGHTS
PINK
GODDESSES & MORNING LIGHTS
So
why do I go on so about hyperspace towel seepage, hyperspace
knowledge curvature ratios, and dreams/exploratrons/Fascitar tools,
and along this line, some ask me? Well then I will answer you.
Because in the future, of all worlds that survive the
humanity-struggle of absolute power corrupting absolutely, and yes,
that too is in a major curving reality in the fifth dimensional
hyperspace; all of this is a major part of all of that, and it also
most definitely rears its very ugly dam head in the personal life, of
one mark Wayne Mountainpen Mohr, and has since the day that he popped
out of his Moomy-deaest's joy-box, on 4 December of 1954.You all know
that some of the dreams that we have collectively had, you, me, and
those who we know of or know personally; have come true, like my
Lottery-Pick and the magic-cat, back in 1980, and other things, yet
more times than not, these dreams never come to pass in waking life.
This happens because of precise movements between worlds that
directly result from what Morianity refers to as the effects from
transdimensional towel-seepage. If we don't know how to make things
happen, we cannot use the tool, and effect any kind of even small
reliable control over the hyperspace-situation, for lack of any
better way for me to describe this reality. In other words, let us
say that I need to get back to Jersey and begin my life, and the
forces of Mister Hall and his pal fictional Darth Vader relentlessly
hack my life and stop me at every turn and move that I make towards
that goal and objective; then if I as a member of the ESS need to
overcome this power (force), Mister Darth Hall Vader; I must be able
to go to a parallel universe that is extremely localized to the one
where my body is powering me to be awake in, watch the TV news and
get a lottery number, and then go back to my own body that is laying
in bed and asleep. I need to then awaken and remember the experience
where I took over one of my hyperspace doubles and dominated him to
get a number, and remember it clearly. When I wake up with that
memory, I need to take this seriously, and go over to the store, and
play it. If the universe visited and dream-controlled, was close
enough in localization to the one where the actual lottery play is
done, I would win the lottery. It isn't cheating to play a number
from a dream. Still, many dream lottery numbers, and some few have
won as a result, and so a lot of folks still do not get how
hyperspace really works. Why some times, and not other times, in
other words? Well, many times you only think you were controlling a
dream, or you know already that you were not, and were just the
recessant dreamer of the experience that your double was actually
living through in his waking world parallel in hyperspace. Unless you
know that it is a very close in parallel (extremely localized), there
is only a chance you may have a duplicated effect back in your waking
world where the lottery ticket is later purchased by you. When you
lose a loved one, your mind is in pain. You try to be wit that loved
one after death therefore, in parallel universes, hence we dream
about those who die, quite often, especially during the very intense
period that follows immediately after their death. Sometimes we move
onto very localized parallels, while other times, not so much. I
remember many of the times with my own mother. Sometimes the city of
Philadelphia was very similar, other times it had major differences,
but she is still my mother, or my mind would not have taken me into
that interaction at that universe. After a bad automobile accident,
you may find yourself exploring around parallels where you are having
that same accident only with various similar but not exact items,
that happened in your waking world accident. Sometimes you may
experience the accident that your double had in a parallel universe,
before you have your accident in the waking world, and you would see
that as ''dreaming the future''. Once hyperspace, dreaming, and
exploratron truths are known about and understood, all of life's
paranormal mysterious clear up, including the Ufological related
items as well.
Well
Molly Ringworm Scratches, and others;
there are many things that need
a bit more discussing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The coverup of the New Jersey Board of Education of what was done to
me that destroyed my life, in conjunction with child molester Tom
Reale, and how it was all plotted and planned quite meticulously in a
horrendous monstrous fuckiGN collusion of despicable evil devilish
people from hell, and how my mom knew a lot of this, and had me sent
away, not just to the private school where I met Mike McNulty, but a
whole bunch of other things all happened, between her, her coworker,
and yes, the great United States Military, or one of their
departments, known as the Merchant Marines. I had a card from them,
and had joined them as an ordinary seaman, and was all set to go to
sea and have a whole different life, and I have no memories at all of
how my dad and his pal Mister Einstein, and that dam fucking rotten
invisibility experiment, all acted in with all of this, but I know
that both my dad and I, had our entire paperwork changed around. One
day I woke up and was told that the president of the United States
did something, and that I was no longer in the service. They all know
what is happening, and they all know that PINK GODDESS RULES SUPREME,
and that SHE indeed is hovering out there all around our galaxy, and
whether SHE is with me or not with me, Mister HALL; something sure
the fuck is!!! Part of this has to do with a very strange girl named
Roseann Delaney from a home in Haddonfield, New Jersey, who would
visit and walk past me and try and talk to me, every evening at
exactly twilight evening as it was darkening and after the sun had
set, while I was out with my cat, Ziggy, at the apartment I lived at
in Westmont, New Jersey, 125-A Haddon Hills, on Pyle Avenue. Is it
only fitting now for me to say, “Well my-my-my”, or just “Hello
Vietnam and sergeant Carter”???????? In any event, mom's shipping
company coworker was instrumental in my going to get my Mariners Sea
Card, in the seventies, and this is a very complicated story, and is
why to this very day, I have strange hyperspace travels about being
near the Independence Mall in Philly, and all sorts of wild shit is
happening all around me. This went onto lead me to a house owned by
this coworker of my mom, who indirectly made sure that I learned
about the secret Astral-Plane travel tool, called, 'FASCITAR'!!!!!!!
It also led me to a house on a highway, years later in early 1984, a
full seven years in the future, where somehow, my life was BLUCRAN
altered, so that I never was a seaman. It has something to do with my
dying in the South American early eighties conflict, a traveler who
visited me at the river job with incredible UFO-TYPE powers like
Mister 1974 Beachman, and making sure that enough thickness of 5-D
STM exists in localized hyperspace, so that I would be around in
1995, to remember about SARAH KRASSLE, and to do Morianity. I know
this sounds like some super far out fucked up SYFY fiction story, and
something to maybe even make the creators of both Star Trek and Star
Wars totally fucking salivate over, but the trouble is people, it is
not fiction. This is god dam fuckiGN all totally real. I
will be saying some things about
my time in Florida
and how in my opinion, this BAD-25-TRIP,
was planned from decades ago, when I was here before at the tail end
of 1983, in Orlando, with my Chief Recording Engineer, Mister Howard
Solomon, from the RPL SOUND STUDIOS, of Camden, New Jersey!
Several mysterious things happened while I was staying at his Orlando
home for about three or four days. One is a memory fuck up, as I have
almost a perfect photographic memory of my entire life back to the
very day I came out of my mom's dam loins and saw the snow coming
down outside of the Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania hospital window! Yet, I
do not have much clear recall to that trip, other than when I spoke
to three individuals. One was a strange man who 'popped up' at
Howard's little roadside restaurant. Another was a Publix Employee in
town, when Howard and I went shopping and I purchased a one pound bag
of plain M&M Candies. The third was an awesome gorgeous young
chick at an office, who fell for me like a ton of bricks, yet Howard
insisted she did not like me at all and that I had imagined it, and
told me with some decent amount of fervor. When I feel like telling
this, you will know more about a connection to the
great HOLLISTER HIGHWAY HOUSE,
from back up north. But, as with heaven, this can all wait, to quote
most mortals. No one is ever one bit to anxious to go to heaven. I
never met a dam soul who was. They believe, but they are not in any
hurry to get to this dam awesome place. This reminds me of a lawyer
who was one of the clients of my RPL job while I was employed there
between late July of 1979 and middle March of 1981. He said and I
quote, “Pain is a window into hell. Suffering is the work of the
devil”. Why does this make me think of that, you wonder? In a very
brief and condensed way, just allow me to say this much for right
now, please. Faith in a Supreme Entity is sort of that window, only
we substitute hell with heaven. Life for the vast majority, here on
this Earth, entails a great deal of suffering. Only a hand picked few
on this planet have magical lives like Donald Trump. He knows it, and
we all know it. So we suffer and we suffer, and we wonder, and I
wonder; why then is no one ever EVER in any hurry at all, to go to
HEAVEN, and be rid of “THE DEVIL” forever and ever and ever? Hey,
don't ask me, and I won't ask any of you for dam crissake. Another
WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!
When
I feel like telling this, you will know more about a connection to
the
great HOLLISTER HIGHWAY HOUSE,
from back up north. When I feel like telling this, you will know more
about a connection to the
great HOLLISTER HIGHWAY HOUSE,
from back up north. When I feel like telling this, you will know more
about a connection to the
great HOLLISTER HIGHWAY HOUSE,
from back up north. When I feel like telling this, you will know more
about a connection to the
great HOLLISTER HIGHWAY HOUSE,
from back up north. When I feel like telling this, you will know more
about a connection to the
great HOLLISTER HIGHWAY HOUSE,
from back up north. When I feel like telling this, you will know more
about a connection to the
great HOLLISTER HIGHWAY HOUSE,
from back up north. When I feel like telling this, you will know more
about a connection to the
great HOLLISTER HIGHWAY HOUSE,
from back up north. When I feel like telling this, you will know more
about a connection to the
great HOLLISTER HIGHWAY HOUSE,
from back up north. When I feel like telling this, you will know more
about a connection to the
great HOLLISTER HIGHWAY HOUSE,
from back up north. When I feel like telling this, you will know more
about a connection to the
great HOLLISTER HIGHWAY HOUSE,
from back up north.
Don't
beat me up too badly, Katy and Adele.
Where
are you when I need you; Sir Clarence Harris?
PEACE
OUT, YO!
PEACE
OUT, YO!
PEACE
OUT, YO!
PEACE
OUT, YO!
END
TRANSMISSION.
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 42
I
died and went to eternal hell in 1986, and I know it. My life
was never great by any stretch of the imagination. I never ever said
that it mother fucking was. Still, I'd be the biggest cock sucking
fool of them all if I did not admit that something happened to me
when I awoke from dreams, that were more bizarre than anything that
even I can hope to tell; on the fifteenth of August of 1986. I would
also be a huge fucking liar if I did not admit that what happened to
me on the fourth night in June of 1983 was not every bit as monstrous
and traumatic, the only difference being that one nightmare lessened
over months of time, while the other to this day has not, nor will it
ever. This is not being Twinbay-Negative, but merely realistic. To
jump off barns and wanting to be able to fly like Superman is one
thing, and then to actually do it as some have back when the show
began airing in the fifties, is a whole other ball of fucking wax. I
had a reasonably all right time, up until half past one yesterday
afternoon (Thursday). I was lied to again, or maybe, it is not that I
am being lied to all of my life by the same people, who would make me
suffer excruciating agony, should I ever in any way be less than
totally honest with them every second of any day; but they are
suddenly becoming indwelt with their doppelganger from a parallel
universe, controlled totally by the Exploratronic Supermind Society,
and this no matter how far out it may sound to anyone, is the only
way of explaining a lifetime of my interactions with humanity, here
as Mark Huntington-Cursed Wayne Mountainpen Mohr. The most recent
example is being told by the nut-case clinic, that I would be able to
be maintained on present dosages of medications, to treat what they
call my anxiety, and I know as my mystery-medical-condition of
June-1983. Now I have to suffer through another reduction in my
generic-Ativan dosage. I won't lie to a soul. I was expecting this,
even though the very last time I was there, or possibly two visits
back, I was told that I would be able to maintain my dosages for this
as well as the other (non-narcotic-med) known as Bu-spar, or its
generic of BuSparone. I don't trust my enemies, and I would bet
double or nothing in a heartbeat, the entire Powerball Lottery
Jackpot on it, as I know I would before any taxes and other
reductions, be instantly worth 1.4 B-$. When you absolutely know
something, based on a lifetime of reality around you, even if
everyone everywhere scoffs and mocks and laughs; it changes nothing.
Five thousand Misses 1969 Marola's can argue the point with me for
all I care. Still, speaking of the lottery, this all fits into what
happened over at the nut case clinic, and so do zillions of other
complicated items. In all honesty, I wouldn't know where to start.
There are so many things that I wish to begin telling, that it makes
me fuckiGN cunt nauseous, just thinking of all of the typing ahead of
me, over the coming days and weeks.
This
changing reality around me, is way beyond just living in one
mother fucking universe, with everyone
lying to me all the time. It all began around the time that my
nightmare of August of 1986, did as
well. Now examining that, we conclude no other possibility here, than
this indeed must pertain to some transdimensional
fuckiGN shit. Why, you ask me? Well this is quite simple. This is
what the nightmare in 1986 was all about, my
spending about 153 days in a PARALLEL UNIVERSE, where I had
something happen to me, that effected my waking world life forever;
ever since awakening out of this, Mister
Hall, and your FAWCES; even if my life
did end seven years before the movie ever came out, back
in nineteen-seventy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There
is no way in mother fucking hell, that I can experience an entire
lifetime of being this super screwed, 24-7-365.2422 for more than 61
cunt chewing fucking years, by some purely random outlandish set of
endless coincidences, and that's a guarantee, Mister Boxer Foreman,
John or George!!!
Sheriff;
I have to go to my whack job place today, up in Oven Beach. Whatever
you can do for me, will be much appreciated, as things have
deteriorated for me to the point where soon, all
fan shit will fly,
and we all are going to wish for that great clock turn back, that
seems to be the only thing Earthers understand. Screw it all up, you
know, and then sit around for years wishing to go back in time and
change shit!!!!
Sheriff;
I have to go to my whack job place today, up in Oven Beach. Whatever
you can do for me, will be much appreciated, as things have
deteriorated for me to the point where soon, all
fan shit will fly,
and we all are going to wish for that great clock turn back, that
seems to be the only thing Earthers understand. Screw it all up, you
know, and then sit around for years wishing to go back in time and
change shit!!!!
Sheriff;
I have to go to my whack job place today, up in Oven Beach. Whatever
you can do for me, will be much appreciated, as things have
deteriorated for me to the point where soon, all
fan shit will fly,
and we all are going to wish for that great clock turn back, that
seems to be the only thing Earthers understand. Screw it all up, you
know, and then sit around for years wishing to go back in time and
change shit!!!!
Sheriff;
I have to go to my whack job place today, up in Oven Beach. Whatever
you can do for me, will be much appreciated, as things have
deteriorated for me to the point where soon, all
fan shit will fly,
and we all are going to wish for that great clock turn back, that
seems to be the only thing Earthers understand. Screw it all up, you
know, and then sit around for years wishing to go back in time and
change shit!!!!
Sheriff;
I have to go to my whack job place today, up in Oven Beach. Whatever
you can do for me, will be much appreciated, as things have
deteriorated for me to the point where soon, all
fan shit will fly,
and we all are going to wish for that great clock turn back, that
seems to be the only thing Earthers understand. Screw it all up, you
know, and then sit around for years wishing to go back in time and
change shit!!!!
Click
the link above the advertisement, for lots of beautiful
lighthouse-images. WEEEEEEEEEE.
Yes
Mister Alan Wolf from 1966; you, Wilson Jessup, and I; had some
strange soul traveling experiences, regarding Tennessee Avenue, and
the great Trinity-Trinidad Hotel, of Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA.
And yes, right at that same spot, in July of 1997; I spoke words of
great truth but did not yet understand why I had spoken them; to John
the Greek, at his parking lot, right there at the Endicott-Tag Pink
Goddess Games Hotel. I said and I quote, “My
life ended in the year 1970”.
Yes, Mister Wolf, it did, and you are 100% correct my friend. But I
am not speaking to Allan, am I dear agents, and family, and
'whoever/whatever'----Congressman Oakangel Andrews????????????????
How many Bob Andrews' can live on Oak Street in Haddon Heights, at
the same time, Mister Genius Pedersen, for crying out loud?
My
dying declaration and dying utterance, is official. Also, Sheriff and
Attorney General, a new hack even after the WORDOCK MAGHACK, for the
past two blogs, my margins are being mother fuckign screwed with, in
total violation of my civil rights. Jane cuntweeds just fucking got
at me, at 6 cunt huffing of the clock this snot sucking Friday
morning, so I'll need to god dam cunt-phlegm-rape
(compensate)!!!!!!!!!!
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Oh
yes kind folks, things have been so bad, that you are not even
getting the daily reports of my errands, such as paying my rent,
going to the grocery store, and many other things this week alone.
Every mother fucking time I copy anything, the margin is being hacked
and altered to be all fucking weird and fucked up, Bob McDowell,
FCC!!!
These
rat bastard clit licking lowlife scum suckers just won't leave me
alone for a cock eating moment. THIS IS THANX-2-GIVENS
HOLIDAY-HELLIDAY MOTHER FUCKING DEATH SIEGE AT ITS HEIGHT AND ZENITH,
CUBED, AND MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' TOTALLY CUBAN!!!
Remembering
things from DREAMS in real super clear order, is done by adding more
and more mini-stages or mini-stepped-controllers, as many parallel
universe inhabitants who are indeed way more advanced in both time
and technology than we here are, all know this to be. They can pull
you into their dreams to get knowledge from us, and this is done to
secret agents a lot, and I am not aloud to discuss more about this,
but it has to do with the original STAR TREK
MOTION PICTURE and the V-GER VOYAGER probe, and how my dad knew all
about major shit, from 1974, four full years before this great
production was more than a “thought in the minds of some
Hollywooders”!
People,
my life totally fucking S---U---C---K---S!!!
People,
my life totally fucking S---U---C---K---S!!!
People,
my life totally fucking S---U---C---K---S!!!
People,
my life totally fucking S---U---C---K---S!!!
People,
my life totally fucking S---U---C---K---S!!!
People,
my life totally fucking S---U---C---K---S!!!
People,
my life totally fucking S---U---C---K---S!!!
With
or without any pirate jokes, magical chanting from Steve, or
wonderful know-it-all knowledge from the great Patty-Paula, allow me
please to inform you, regarding some very valuable dam information;
great people out there!!! Thank you so much.
JANUARY
8, 2016,
FRIDAY
MORNING, AT 6:14,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 62 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H-63/L-60).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 62%, WIND CHILL IS 55.
WIND
IS MOSTLY CALM AND NORTH.
TOTAL
RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---1.
So
my father seemed to know quite a lot of people connected in with EW,
as I told before on numerous blogs when my blog-project was new in
the early third of this now solid ten year project. He had some shit
with him in his first of those two visits in the middle seventies,
that he could not have had if he did not know some really wild people
in entertainment circles. I know he did something that he shouldn't,
and got someone really pissed the fuck off. I don't have details,
Sheriff K. J. M. sir, but I will before all of this is said and done,
kind sir. IPYT!!!
****WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW****
The
reason the ESS does what it does is about the only god dam thing
that Morianity hasn't totally figured out, but I do know it is
just a big fucking game to them. There is no big importance to
anything, no one cares about saving humanity, and this entire
thing is just a huge ass fuckign dream off of the god dam fucking
purgatory or Astral-Plank-Realm!
|
If
anyone can find me PEE,
it was my genius
daughter, WOW!
I
will be dead and gone before too much longer, and have decided to
commit fucking suicide by cutting my wrists in the fucking bath tub.
When I am no longer here to be picked on and fucked with, the entire
planet will begin to totally fuckiGN self destruct. Laugh now mother
fucking jerk offs. I know I am telling the truth to you all, and your
laughter won't drown out the truth.
END
TRANSMISSION.
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 41
I
sure hope that you will do a little bit more to assist me in my
nightmare problems, here in your state and in your county, guys and
gals. This has been really horrible since the holidays, as always,
only this one totally takes all of the cakes in the pantry.
In
fact, things have been so bad, that you are not even getting the
daily reports of my errands, such as paying my rent, going to the
grocery store, and many other things this week alone. No one was in
the PHA building office on Wednesday, so I will be seeing the
resident-manager on Friday, hopefully; unless she is gone now too, as
things are changing around here, and very rapidly. I have a new nabe
who is causing me a lot of grief, down the hall. This is the first
time I am getting a major door slammer out of that apartment,
Sheriff, and Mizz Marotto. It seems I must have lost the good dude I
had in there that never annoyed me, and I never even knew that he was
there. Now I have a pal of Boo, and Warren, and Darius, and Nick; so
here comes the crap, Sir Mascara.
The
party on Monday night and into Tuesday morning was with him and my
new people next to me in Stanley's old place. They are not the old
couple, as these may be parents, but a fairly young woman is in
there, with various guys; and has turned the place into another
problem for me. On top of that, I have the already existing people
from across the hall who are there to bother me intermittently. So
now I am literally
surrounded with HELL-NABES,
and thank you so very much, worthless Mizz Moratto!
Yes,
back on Monday afternoon, I went to buy some groceries, I went to my
local bank for a balance check, and I went to the main PHA office to
drop off my rent check. To quote Judge Judy, I am planning to
M-O-V-E. I cannot live in Public-Housing any longer, as when you have
problems such as mine, living this close to really nasty low-lifers
is beyond miserable, and they all are making my life here beyond a
living hell. I seem to be hated by just about everyone, and you
cannot fight city fucking hall. You really can't. Some try, some may
even win or think they are winning temporarily, but that as with so
many things, is purely a short term time illusion. If I have
to go over Niagara Falls in a god dam barrel,
so be it, I will; but
I am getting the hell out of Florida, and fast!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What
you don't know is that a lot of bullshit is going on that I have not
discussed, because recently, I needed to get major secrets flowing
around the mind of cosmos, as well as try to man up and survive one
of the worst THANX-2-GIVENS
SIEGES,
since this shit all began with me in middle August of 1986, and never
ever looked back for so much as a peak.
Harry
Potter may have been written by a nice lady in England, but I assure
you that in all probability, one of her advanced doppelgangers, wrote
this through her, as for all I know, one of mine controls me and
writes these blogs. I don't know. I said in all probability and
perhaps, but magic in my life is a non ending loop of ever lasting
event. To quote my conversation on the telephone in 1976 with Jim
Burr, while living at Carriage Lamp Apartments that later became the
New York Apartments for the gods only know what reason, as Clementon,
New Jersey is 100 miles away or so from New York, but to quote him on
the phone that time, “It will just continue and continue”. He was
referring to my totally fucked up miserable nightmare hellish sub
vampiric existence, that passes itself off as my life.
©
BOM 2006-2015 MARK WAYNE MOHR
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
My
1994 book, The Permission Barrier,
opens up a lot of doors to the following Morianity, and the story of
my life, also known as (AKA) BOOK
OF BEACH 2.
I
copyrighted my four demo-songs on one
open reel tape,
at a speed of 7 and one half IPS, on a full track recording, copied
onto my RS-1500-US, open reel semi-pro mastering machine, that I
bought from the Martin Audio/Video store, in Manhattan, in May of
1980, and was delivered to my apartment by UPS, early in the first
week in June, right before my powerful and unfathomable bizarre Lois
Foca dream-HIE-RAW!
Suddenly
Marcy Levy and Robin Gibb, from the famous BEEGEE assholes,
had made a song, that was rapidly going into lower numbers, on the
Billboard Hot 100 Music Charts, called, “Help
Me”,
speaking of major fuckiGN symbolism, YO. After I saw the attorney
recommended by my arranger, Mister Glenn, the song magically seemed
to get pulled off of the air, and was killed cold; but no one ever
spoke a word to me about shit, not Howard Solomon, not Lenny
McKinnon, not Malcolm Rosenberg. I told the FBI that my life began to
change in the negative even worse than it was before, when all of
this went down and my shit was stolen back in the late summer time of
1980, while residing at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments. The book from
1994 that I wrote and copyrighted, “The Permission Barrier”,
tells a lot of powerful truths, and it is no means a work of pure
fiction. It has some slight exaggerations and lots of legal changes
of names and places and items where I felt it prudent and necessary
to do this. Otherwise, it is the truth, and it is real!
I
LOVE YOU SO VERY MUCH, MY LIGHTNING!
Click
the link above the advertisement, for lots of beautiful
lighthouse-images. WEEEEEEEEEE.
Yes
Mister Alan Wolf from 1966; you, Wilson Jessup, and I; had some
strange soul traveling experiences, regarding Tennessee Avenue, and
the great Trinity-Trinidad Hotel, of Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA.
And yes, right at that same spot, in July of 1997; I spoke words of
great truth but did not yet understand why I had spoken them; to John
the Greek, at his parking lot, right there at the Endicott-Tag Pink
Goddess Games Hotel. I said and I quote, “My life ended in the year
1970”. Yes, Mister Wolf, it did, and you are 100% correct my
friend. But I am not speaking to Allan, am I dear agents, and family,
and 'whoever/whatever'----Congressman Oakangel
Andrews????????????????
Sheriff;
I have to go to my whack job place today, up in Oven Beach. Whatever
you can do for me, will be much appreciated, as things have
deteriorated for me to the point where soon, all
fan shit will fly,
and we all are going to wish for that great clock turn back, that
seems to be the only thing Earthers understand. Screw it all up, you
know, and then sit around for years wishing to go back in time and
change shit!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
Remembering
things from DREAMS in real super clear order, is done by adding more
and more mini-stages or mini-stepped-controllers, as many parallel
universe inhabitants who are indeed way more advanced in both time
and technology than we here are, all know this to be. They can pull
you into their dreams to get knowledge from us, and this is done to
secret agents a lot, and I am not aloud to discuss more about this,
but it has to do with the original STAR TREK
MOTION PICTURE and the V-GER VOYAGER probe, and how my dad knew all
about major shit, from 1974, four full years before this great
production was more than a “thought in the minds of some
Hollywooders”!
Watch
this mother fuckiGN bitch fly.
Watch
this mother fuckiGN bitch fly.
Watch
this mother fuckiGN bitch fly.
Watch
this mother fuckiGN bitch fly.
Watch
this mother fuckiGN bitch fly.
Watch
this mother fuckiGN bitch fly.
Watch
this mother fuckiGN bitch fly.
Watch
this mother fuckiGN bitch fly.
Watch
this mother fuckiGN bitch fly.
Watch
this mother fuckiGN bitch fly.
55555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
THERE
IS MY FUCKING COMPENSATION, YO!
What
would I do without shithead Jane????????
Maybe
enjoy me' ol' fucked up life again a wee bit, lads and lassies.
YARRRHH there maitees!!!
Yeah
Marcucci Crawlers; I know my true age!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh
me' arm, Patty Paula King, CRUNCH!!!!!!!!
Before
I begin, some scum bag has been hammering again, off and on for the
past two days or so, and it is ongoing right now, Sheriff sir, at
twenty shy of eight this dam ass evening. Also, the utility crew of
the Fort Pierce Utilities Authority, worked well into the night, at
that same area right next to that house, that has already proven to
be an enemy, and has hit me with at least one or more motorcycle
attacks, hours past midnight, and highly illegally. For all I know,
they were behind the power blow out last night.
Now
as to this information I wish to impart to my blog-viewers:
We
live in a global economy.
Most of us know that, as they also are aware that in the continents
to our east; Asia,
and Europe, and Africa, and so forth;
they are already into the following day and date, when it is night
time, or early in the morning here on the east coast of the United
States of America. Now, when the Wall Street New York people, are
anticipating major woes and troubles, on the following day, as a
result of the Asian and European markets acting extremely negatively;
even though it may be only 10 at night, or 2 in the morning here; it
is much later there, even at 10, it is already about 12 hours later,
or 10 AM the following trading day in Tokyo; and then by 3 and 4 and
5, New York City time, the dam European markets open, and begin also
reacting negatively to the Asian markets, and again, because we have
become a major mother fucking GLOBAL
ECONOMY
over the past 10-40 years, more and more and more. As you also know,
these Wall Street nightmare monster fucking scum, use a covert
stealthy tool that my Morianity has named and labeled, APPLIED
PARALLEL EVENT and INTENTIONALLY CREATED PARALLEL EVENT, or
ICPE-APE-TECHNOLOGY!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is what happened both last night as well as today, and is QUITE
OBVIOUSLY WHY I WAS ASSAULTED WITH THAT ATTACK ON MY UTILITY SYSTEM,
with the blown transformer across the street, and my one outlet
receptacle effected, through their wild ESS technology somehow. I
fully intend to have the Fort Pierce Utility Authority look into
this. If you use the word 'FIRE',
people tend to get nervous and jumpy. GOOD!!!! I intend to go into
the place this week and tell them of my situation, and remind
them that this wild shit MUST BE SOME KIND OF A FIRE HAZARD,
reminding them of the already near-fire in this apartment, caused by
weird electrical bullshit.
As you may or may not remember folks, somewhere around two years ago,
or between one and two years, I suddenly had my heater-cooler system
shut down, and things smelled all smoky inside this apartment. I did
not need a new heater-cooler, but I did need a new 220 volt
electrical receptacle. I am going to leave you with something else,
that one out of 1000 TOPS, ministers and pastors and church leaders
know and believe in faith, and that is known to me without faith, as
my entire life is inside this living nightmare truth; and that is
that nothing just happens, and that all things are caused by
influences of either good or evil, from the biggest to the smallest.
So all house fires, all plane crashes, and all of the everything's
everywhere, DO
NOT JUST HAPPEN BY RANDOM;
and I totally know this. I also know that we all are under this same
shit that I am, but my shit is much huger and stronger for reasons
that have to do with being part of a very mysterious family, as well
as part of a cosmic plan that spans human understanding, and
awareness, at its total maximum, in present times in this present
dimensional 4-D universe system. Good and evil, without carbon based
life, that runs a consciousness brain-speed of approximately 400
instants
per
minute;
is just that, a positive or a negative force of electromagnetic
polarity in cosmos, and no more. But add Adam's life, his tree and
fruit eating habits, his original sin, and our god SSJKK into the
mix; and the human equation or carbon based 400
IPM
consciousness waking life, transfers these otherwise dormant pluses
and minuses into righteousness and evil. And so now, everything
inside of this simulationogram ever since this all happened, is now a
part of this wild GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS
game!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is why these mother fuckers
go on hammering and annoying me, every time I type a new paragraph
and say forbidden things onto this machine. To
quote Engineer Scottie on Star Trek's great Starship Enterprise;
“There's
no knowing, and no stopping it either”!!!!!! I
thought last night, that this shit with the fucking lottery was what
was behind my assault, but I was mistaken. It is, as always, NOTHING
OTHER THAN FUCKING JERK OFF MONSTER WALL STREET,
and this nightmare monster has eaten my entire life up, and literally
burned the flesh off of my pathetic bones; ruining my entire adult
life, for
thirty years,
come the 15th
of this cunt chewing fucking August!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW-THAT
AND WOW-THAT AND WOW-THAT!!!!!
THE
MINUTE I TALK ABOUT IMPROVING; KAPUT
RIGHT
MISTER HISTORY TEACHER QUAY FROM 1968
?????????????????????????????????????????????????
|
|
|
Global Audience By Shade Ratio:
ALL
LOVELY CUTE SAVANTS KNOW; THE END!!!
ALL
LOVELY CUTE SAVANTS KNOW; THE END!!!
ALL
LOVELY CUTE SAVANTS KNOW; THE END!!!
ALL
LOVELY CUTE SAVANTS KNOW; THE END!!!
ALL
LOVELY CUTE SAVANTS KNOW; THE END!!!
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