GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 57
Shortly
after 10:00 Ante' Meridian on this god dam Thursday morning,
SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM, went the dam ass doors. This time I opened my
door, and it seems that I have another new NABE from hell, some real
large African American lady one unit away and across from me. She
keeps a shopping cart outside her door, as it has been here a while
now, and she was using it to bring things into her apartment, and why
the door was slamming, is anyone's guess, as all you need to do is
purchase a two dollar door stopper or prop it open as I do with mine,
with a broom, placing it on an angle on the floor, until it fits the
dimensions of the hallway perfectly, to hod open my door. Just
thought you may be interested in what is going on this morning, and
we all know why, right kind Sheriff Mascara, sir? MONDAY, TUESDAY,
and today-THURSDAY, I get harassed by major morning bullshit and
noise, and UP UP UP UP UP GOES THAT
MOTHER FUCKING STOCK MARKET, BECAUSE THE
MILITUFORCE FOR 30 SOLID MOTHER FUCKING YEARS IS USING A COVERT AND
STEALTHY WEAPON ON ME, CALLED INTENTIONALLY CREATED PARALLEL EVENT OR
(ICPE-APE-TECH)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SEE FOR YOURSELF,
KIND SHERIFF K. J. MASCARA, SIR!!!!!
AND
PLEASE NOTICE HOW IT STARTED AROUND FUCKING TEN OF THE CLOCK, AND HOW
I REPORTED IT RIGHT ON THE BUTTON, LONG BEFORE I KNEW THE OUTCOME FOR
THE DAY ON THIS MARKET BY ANY ORDINARY WAY!!!!!
Yesterday
I had no problems here at my apartment, and of course is why most
likely, will be the only down day on the stock market this week, if I
am correct, and able to prove how this shit all works, oh wonderful
and hopefully caring human hearted Sheriff, sir.
Thanks
for nothing for believing a word I say, and doing your job, peeps, to
protect someone who is completely innocent and who is being
persecuted to death in this MOTHER FUCKING EVIL EMPIRE AMERICA FOR 30
STRAIGHT MOTHER FUCKIGN YEARS. This is worse than anything done to
those poor fucking bastard Guantanamo Detainee's, IPYT!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have thought long and mother fucking hard about how this all came to
be started on the fifteenth day back in August of 1986, and I doubt
very seriously that it could have ever happened, if not for
Patty-Paula T3E King. If she had not raped me underneath of Central
Pier on the first Saturday of July in 1969, none of this would have
ever happened, and it would take months of explanation for me to
begin telling why I have come to that conclusion after meditating
upon this steadfastly for ages now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There
is one other thing, and that is what David Charles Roth told me
repeatedly throughout our friendship. Only EXPOSURE
and shinning the light on these perpetrators;
can hope to get any of this mother fuckiGN bullshit stopped some day,
and they are just way too mother fucking powerful to ever allow that
to happen. No matter how I try, forget it. It is like a scene right
out of the mother fuckiGN famous sixties into early seventies 'BRADY
BUNCH' TV SHOW. Greg and Peter
were boxing, and little Cindy was being picked on, and he was
learning how to fight, so as to help his little sister with the bully
in their school. When Mister Brady was showing him a particular way
of boxing; Peter after getting zinged by Greg, if my memory is
serving me at all here; said to his pop, “Every
time I jab he blocks and every time I block, he jabs”, or
some similar paraphrase; in other words, forget it, it
is like me trying to fight to expose the mother fucking evil prick
bastard all powerful demonic BRIGGBASE/MILI-2-FORCE.
BUTTTTTTTTTTTTT, there is one thing I need to
do to at least try, and that is to get a real blog-audience,
as what I have now, is just my enemies, who are already fucking
mocking and jeering and laughing at me. I am
totally wasting my time with this blog until I can get
some help here, instead of just jerk offs fucking messing the Christ
with me, and screwing me.
John
Henningsen in 1969 said it so often, and he was so totally fucking
cunt accurate and correct, “Mark, it's just
that simple, YO”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Boy
oh boy oh boy oh boy, do I wish that my god dam life could change
back to being only 3.7496% SUB HUMAN. Sheriff and AG; it has gone
down to 0.5729235% since arriving here in cunt chewing sunny
PARADISE-FLORIDA. Just thought maybe you cared in the least and may
be interested in the numbers!!!!!!!!! When Paula King hates your
mother fucking guts however; these numbers can only grow endlessly
more negative, and yes, I am sorry about that, my beautiful dam Egg
Harbor Township New Jersey ”TWINBAY”, sorry for you, and for me;
YO YO YO!!!!!
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0281
World
Laboratories of 2296
SUNDAY
AFTERNOON, 12:42 PM-EST
DECEMBER
4, 2011, MY 57TH BOTBAR FUCKING BIRTHDAY
OFFICIAL
RESIDENT OF HELL, AS PER JAMES EARL CARTER
FROM
THE YEAR 1986 IN MIDDLE AUGUST
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“WHY
JIMMY WHY, UPDATED VERSION”
COPYRIGHTED
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011 ©
STARTING
BLOG:
Monster
Music Man next door, woke me again, blaring his horrific loud
rotten-neighbor music at me, ruining my entire fucking birthday.
There is no way to have peace and cunt lapping quiet in this world.
Music is so loved by people, personally, I fucking hate it. I hate it
when I am somewhere and a radio or something is playing, and some
amateur begins to sing along, totally believing they are either
Pavarotti or Carey. If they were, that is one thing; but if not,
can't you please save it for your shower room while scrubbing up, and
do us all a fucking favor. This jerk off next door is old and either
hard of hearing, or like most peeps today, just love to blare away
and wreck the only two ears that they were born with, believing
either they are indestructible, or that they live 90 years from now,
where even full ears and eyes are directly transplantable into the
brain without any nerve complications.
I
asked Gawky Gaukauk just why all of a sudden this neighbor is driving
me up a wall, and what and who is behind it; by drawing from 72
paying cards, eight suits from two decks; containing all cards from
aces through nines. The great black cat said the reason for this new
hell and misery in my life, is number PCN-781. Now let us talk about
this, and a lot of other major mother fucking crap as well folks.
I
am imagining none of this 57 years of Doctor Feet and his hell, who?
No, that is the guy in the telephone booth with the Donald,
exchanging phony weaves, dreams, and comfortable shoe insoles. But
yes peeps, the other day, I asked this mighty black cat a question on
why that horrific day of the 23rd of November was forced
on me by these fucking ass monsters, and yes; the answer was again,
PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER (PCN)-781. Today, before I began this blog
of SJ-CH-0281, again, I drew the two cards that produce the PCN-ROOT
DIGITS, these being the 7 and then the 8. The PCN is the difference
between these root digits, if any Doctor, and using this digit as the
3rd one, creating a PCN or ROOT DIGITS 78 becomes PCN-781.
My root digits are 87 for example, Donald Trump has root digits 23,
and so forth. You must use your exact birth given first and last
names to get your life-long PERSONAL PCN. By the way, you cannot ask
the great GAWNUM the same question, unless it pertains to different
potential answers because it is asked at different times during ones
life. Other than that exception, only once counts; and thus after
that, you will get false answers. Do not try getting the GAWNUM to be
your genie and give you yes and no responses. It is designed as a
mighty story telling systems of comparisons and matching's; &
not to tell you in a direct question, if Johnny Marshmallow should
marry Toni-Louise Macbeth. It is designed to bring a new skill to a
user, and this being, learning how to figure things around a query,
then by varying the words or phrases of query, they can match up
PCN-number results to a second half, such as, “My boss is acting
totally weird with me because he found out that I...” The
dot-dot-dot are numerous possible things you may be wondering and
worrying about, and they also all have their own PCN's, when figured
out. Then your master PCN of the sentence with your boss is compared
GAWNUMLY with numerous other PCN sentences, until you start super
sleuthing around; and get matching answers. It is not six year old
stuff, but it is addictive, and also fun; and entertaining as hell.
It is totally real, and it totally works. Anyone thinking this is not
so, needs further education on this exact science. I will tell more
and more as time and persecution on this off the scales attack,
continues to march fucking on, to this demonic evil drumbeat. Now I
had no particular blog planned out for this weekend, and really was
fucking hoping to catch a break, but the WOMO is making me about as
miserable as can be conceived, and is responsible for my first degree
premeditated murder. It is official that I said I cannot take much
more, and will need to take my life, so if this happens; these peeps
all need to go to MOTHER FUCKING PRISON, FOR THE REST OF THEIR DIRTY
FILTHY TWISTED DISEASED LIVES, TO ROT AND SUFFER; JUST AS THEY CAUSED
ME TO, for pushing 30 years or so now!!!! I noticed two other pretty
much inescapable bullshit coincidences recently. The minute I say
that Donald Trump will be president over my non breathing body, he
pops up on his dirt bag owned and mobbed up NBC-NETWORK, floozies and
all; and fairy god mother news bells; aha-aha-aha, Michele-1980 &
family; & he decided all over again, that he will run; and then
began all this persecution on me; as he has been behind the usage of
this ICPE tool; ever since I told his peeps at his casino, in the
summer time of the year 1986; that I use a 'PARALLEL EVENT SYSTEM',
to beat the game of roulette; and this would piss off any fucking
casino owner, like DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!You cannot say that
if you start with this blog, and read backwards; that I DO NOT HAVE
PLENTY OF PROOF THAT BACKS UP MY WORDS HERE, FOLKS; NOT UNLESS YOU
WANT THE AWARD OF THE DECADE, FOR BEING AN ASS AND A MORON; THAT IS.
Well
Gawky, despite many uncertainty's in this old sick world, “God's
Dog” may have visited “Babylon”, and not in his doggie form,
until he was old enough to do a Nancy Reagan, and just say 'NO' to my
dear wonderful sweet mom who took a vicious secret to the grave. But
still, this “Prophet of Nothing” from “July twelve,
nineteen-seventy” a few years back at that time; did not then know
that these four things were all PCN-781, shown above in
double-quotations. I have a listing matchbook of a dozen or more
other less important things, but for now, these four need to be
talked about, as something contained in one or any combination, or
all of them; is causing this real bad hell, according to the magic
cat of Copyrighted Halloween Days. I am not trying to win
power-balls; that is your thing, MIZZ PAULA UWICH!!!!!!!
This
is what is causing this neighbor to blare my wall down every day now
without fucking mercy, perhaps at Trump's or Nick's behest; but since
I have only what detectives call SOLID MOTIVE, I do not have any
court evidence to this effect, so I blog out; maybe at their behest.
If you see two mean looking kids in a park, and you just got there
and they are leaving, and one is crying and more bloody and dirty
than the other one, but you saw nothing; you can solidly speculate
that these boys had been fighting since nobody else is around. But
you cannot swear in court, one other thing, other than this. None of
us would have it any other way, because it is too easy to get framed,
and innocently go off to fucking prison. Many guilty's are out
walkin' and talkin', while the innocent's are all locked away inside.
As I said to Paula, and some others, Regis sir; dog roofs and radio
stations all notwithstanding; “BE
CAREFUL”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What is good for the goose, you
know. I have nothing against the American Criminal Justice System,
except for when it doesn't work, which is quite often. IN MY CASE, IT
NEVER DOES, AND NEVER HAS.
Let
me quickly get into the song from 1988 that I Copyrighted and wrote
from my home in Moorestown, NJUSAESMWG, a mile or so away from the
home of baseball giant, Mitch Williams, AKA Mister World Series
Gamethrow. I know he honestly tried his best, but some were ready in
1993, to shoot the poor devil. But baseball, at least not at this
precise second; is not the topic at hand folks. The song was what led
to the project sent down for copyright, called “THE EPITOME OF
HARASSMENT”. This is why since the middle of the past decade, my
blogs on the web are titled this, along with the additional,
“INTERNET VERSION”, LIKE
DUHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dave
and I had taken a trip in the first week in August, back a couple of
years, in 1986, one night; into New York City. He wanted to go to
some club, and see some friends of his; a musical group called “New
Shoes”. I could not handle Saturday night traffic in this
incredible city so he took the wheel, and parked us a few blocks from
the club; as he was not able to find a spot closer than this. I
relaxed in the passenger seat for close to an hour while he was
inside this club, doing whatever he was doing. As soon as he rounded
a corner block, along came a girl crossing from my right to my left,
and I could not take my eyes off of this tall teenaged curly haired
cutie pie. I admit I was pushing 32, and that she was half my age,
but the statute of limitations will run out on what I did with her on
the 2nd of August, back in 1993. I believe laws have
altered, but grandfathers rights in more ways than one, keep me from
seeing the inside of a prison. She told me that her feet hurt as she
came around to the driver side of the parked car, and peered in at
me, cautiously but confidently. I told her my friend is in the club
down the street seeing his pals, the New Shoes group. She smiled and
asked if she could sit inside, and get off of her feet. She removed
her shoes, and left me instantly wishing she had not; pretty as her
feet were. Until 2008 ran around, I thought of this night only a few
times ever, and remembered little detail. I know we had a little fun,
not the only time I had fun in a car during this period in my life,
and yes, with the under-aged, as I was going through the normal
middle life crises, that went onto worsen ten to twenty years later,
until I began blogging and telling my life story, which had quite a
therapeutic effect, and calmed me down like a bottle of Ativan
tablets. I thought her name was Maria Kelly, and thought no more of
this fuzzy memory, other than to write a very mean song about the
experience and copyright it on August 15th, in 1986, a
couple weeks after the night in the city, called, “Real Good Girl”.
Before she exited the vehicle as I had seen David coming back from
the club towards the car; she heard some female artist playing on my
car stereo, and had noticed my tape recorder in the back seat with a
cassette all ready loaded into it, as I was keeping a life journal of
things happening to me. She turned the music way up, and literally
blew the poor artist, whoever it was; right out of the water, with a
voice like nothing I had ever heard or imagined in my wildest mind.
In the few minutes before David had been seen walking towards us from
quite a distance; and there was a very bright advertising light right
where he was walking past and easy to spot; she had asked me if she
could have the tape, and I said that I needed it, because it had
stuff on its flip side; personal conversations with a man named
Shorty MacInvondi. She giggled at his name, and never knew it was a
made up name, and used for purposes of electronic metaphysics; unlike
Donna Summer Jason, who knows all this so well, at least now. Still,
she knew it then, and was convinced early in the eighties that I was
sending magical signals to her, because I used a fast erase button
that caused a bias playback high oscillating tone to be audible with
good speakers, and she admitted it in her 1982 album. Anyway, I
really liked this curly haired girl, and we exchanged phone numbers,
but I threw hers away near the Lincoln Tunnel; as she would have
ended up putting me on Rikers Island eventually. I had no idea at
all, that SR would be the only charge against me if PK pressed
charges on me, as she knew stuff that I did not. She insisted on
having the tape, and even though I told her I could not give it to
her, she faked out like she was putting the recorder back in the back
seat; as it was attached by a short rope, around the seat head rest
of the passenger front seat. She lifted the tape, as when I got home;
it was gone. I never heard anything like her voice, as it was
straight from the heavens.
None
of this by itself is all that amazing, as far as PCN-781, but when
you factor in other things; watch this all widen out. July 12, 1970
was the last NIGHT, and the only NIGHT, that Sarah's great gang
called the Atlantic City QM, standing for Quoddy Mockers, was ever
seen by me. They knew me and liked me a lot, & they all called me
THAT-BOY, and never knew my name. Cousin (SANDY) Sandra Shah
Snowhite, of Narberth, PAUSAESMWG; told them my name, but they all
insisted on calling me, THAT-BOY. I lied about seeing SARAH herself,
the only lie ever told on MORIANITY, but enough to place my good name
and credibility into question, unfortunately. It gets a lot better
still, so do not faint out on me yet peeps, please. Nightmares that
recurred all through the late eighties and nineties of the past
century, haunted me in series of ominous and outlandish vividly
colorful dreams of groups and groups of huge air balloons. The girl
running the entire thing that was going on, was always the same; and
her name was Patty Lang. This name, Paula King, and many others, is
one powerful entity and personality by the name of JULIA WHITE. Later
I realized I had worked with a girl by this LANG name at the
recording studio, and had totally put this out of my conscious mind
from 1979-1981 until I quit on March the eleventh. Her husband was a
commercial airlines pilot. They commuted from a place right near the
Delaware Memorial Bridge, one hell of a spurious long commute to both
of their jobs. Photos of air balloons were both on her hand bag at
the studio, as well as a stick or peel on, where she was given
permission to place on the main duplicator machine near the master
system; connected to the group of 10 or so electronic-slaves or
“duplicators” both accepted terms in the recording business of
those days, and I saw these balloons every night at work. This led to
those nightmares beginning after I met and did the unspeakable with
my own daughter, regarding balloons and Patty. As for God's Dog, our
Midge at the Judge's place in Hammonton Berryville, Frank Raso; owner
of the rooming-house, before I had been talked into moving in with
these distant cousins of my kid; was the most adorable dog I ever
met. Ann got rid of poor little Midge because she had attacked and
killed one of her precious Cockateel birds. Spell fucking checker is
no help whatsoever, and I know the species of that bird type is
misspelled; so no comments please. Tell MICROSUCKS to improve their
rotten spellchecker system,
THANK-YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know for almost
certain, Dawn-Marie called her distant cuzz MC, and sent her a pix.
Right after this, she got the same dog. I could be wrong, but I feel
that I am not. The Empire Ruler knows that on the Astral Plane, I can
indeed talk, and that she is endlessly age sixteen out in her
wonderful city of SAHASRA DAL KANWAL. This is why I ended up seeing
her cool commercial on television that day on the show, “Sweet-16”,
with the treadmill.
I
had my friend at the Indian River State College (IRSC) here in South
Florida, run just a few things like this, as mathematical odds for
happening all just by random chance. He told me it would be trillions
if not quadrillions to one against this all being just coincidental,
and I believe him. Do any of you? This is a tenured professor, not a
disabled nutcase, certified by the psychiatric profession, as a
life-long whack-job. Then there is Babylon and all its yacht clubs,
banker uncles, astral trips, and balloon bank payments. This is where
I was forced to go and visit these rotten and snooty relatives of
mine; and was put to work like a slave, either in the yard, or on
that rotten boat that he loved to take out sailing around LI Sound
every freaking summer; with his pal MISTER JIMMY DEAN, and his
daughter Christine, who I hear in 1975, got a bit hot and heavy. Oh
well, who am I to talk, after that night with my own daughter in
1986? I wonder how far I was from Rikers Island? I suppose as close
as the nearest cop. Oh well, fortune favors the foolish, huh William
Whales Shatner????????????????????????????
When
I talked a dozen blogs or so back about comparing PCN-550 with
PCN-550, the reason it fucked up, is my error folks, for those who
fucking caught this, sorry. It was December, two-thousand-nine, but I
typed into the blog 2010, my error, oh well Bruce Allen Pennock of
1973, NOBODY'S PERFECT, not even Mini Great Jewelly, or Mini Great
Ripperton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So sahwee Ambassador Bomb
of December the seventh, in 1941, kind sir. Watch the audio volume.
Hell my next door nut case nabe would wipe out Fort Pierce with that
song I sent down there in 1983, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.
MAGNESONIC,
KICK IN OR I WILL FUCKING KICK FUCKING ASS, YO!!!!
ENDING
BLOG:
Nothing
ever ever ever mother fucking changes for me in my life, Sheriff
Mascara, kind sir, NOTHING!!!!!!!!! Only
getting my story out to some real honest folks who care, could
possibly ever change the situation. I know this; and I know I
must fight to accomplish that objective, as I am a dead mother
fuckiGN man otherwise, and probably I am a dead
mother fucker either way, but I would rather go down and out swinging
hard for the mother fuckiGN fences, Sheriff sir, than
surrendering to a bunch of mother fuckiGN dirt bag cock licking
dickhead monsters; sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IS
THIS ONE BIT FAIR?
IS
THIS ONE BIT FAIR?
IS
THIS ONE BIT FAIR?
©
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)
MARK WAYNE MOHR
JANUARY
14, 2016,
EARLY
THURSDAY EVENING AT 5:36,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 67 DEGREES FNHT.
TEMPERATURE
RANGE TODAY------(H-70/L-54).
WIND
IS AT , WITH GUSTING TO .
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 81%. WIND CHILL IS 66.
MEGAHELL
ON
STEROIDS,
CHAPTER
00000
Just
in case you don't yet know, sure there is a god almighty
and there is a Satan-devil. But god ain't white bearded, a guy, or
sitting on a dam fucking throne with some asshole on each side of
'him'. Satan the devil has no pitch fork, no horns, and definitely,
give me a fucking break, NO TAIL! His only tail is that dumb tale.
This power exists, and it is real. It is not some silent dead cosmos
out there. This force is cosmos, it has two sides to its coin, and it
chooses different players inside itself to play all sorts of wild
incredible games with. BUTTTTTT,
when it is all said and done;
from
nuclear war, to meteor strikes wiping out large animals sixty-five
million years ago, and again
with that 65number,
but
all of it, GAMES---GAMES---GAMES;
AND
HERE IS ANOTHER
GAME,
called symbolism!!!!!!!!!!!!
GUESS—-GUESTS---GAMES---SARAH
KRASSLE---ESS,
or the great and powerful (GAP) Exploratronic
Supermind
Society!!!!!!!!!!
Whether
shopping for a home or a car or a giant TV set; or looking for
symbolic parallels to life's many mysteries; seek and we will find. I
don't say that. The gods say that, or the greatest of all of them,
Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle. I'd never ask you to just listen to my
ideas or words. Open up the freaking bible!!!
  |
NO
SIR; H-A-C-K-E-D----INTERNET!!!!
Maybe
it's your browser, YO. And then again, maybe it's your
knees; Mark Wayne Mohr. Actually my lovely goddess Gina didn't say
''maybe''. She knew when we were
playing BABYSITTER that day at the hotel I used to work at in 1984
and into early 1985, The McIntosh Motor Inn of Mount Laurel, New
Jersey, USA, that it was my puny weak body giving out as she
pushed against me, and I went straight into the wall.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BLACKEN
MY EYE, WILL YA SUANNE AT PCI IN 1973.
Sue
Ann, Suzanne, or Suzy Anna, it's all the same dam thing to me,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But she did have one really
far out last Italian name, if memory serves me correctly, huh Mizz
Hollister????????????????????????????????
HA-HA-HA-HA,
MIKE MCNULTY, YO!
Every
time I went to Bwadlees Department store late in the nineties, I
would hear the pager for either Mizz Bozwell or for Daryl Jones. Then
came that day I met the super girl, who was my barber's daughter who
I watched grow up in a crib while my hair was getting cut, across
from the high school, in Clementon, at Charlies Barber fucking Shop,
YO!!!!!!!!!
I
WAS SO SCARED THAT DAY IN MAY, WHEN YOU'RE FAVORITE GAME
YOU'D PLAY. AS YOUR 1-2-3, KEPT SIGNALLING ME THAT YOU'RE THERE. I
DIDN'T SEE JUST HOW, OR WHAT I HAD. AND INSTEAD I GOT SO MAD. I
TOOK OUT THE PHONE, AND WAS CUT OFF ALONE, AND I MADE MY BABY
SAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM SO SO SO SORRY, MY WONDERFUL LOVELY
BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING.
UPDATED By WeatherBug Meteorologist, Tim Barnes
UPDATED 12 AM EDT, May 2, 2015
There
was no technology like this back in 1983, YO!!!!
Showers,
thunderstorms, and scorching temperatures may not be the
picture perfect debut for early May, but it will be in
keeping with the dynamic spring weather as of late.
WeatherBug
Meteorologist Mace Michaels has the latest in his exclusive
WeatherBug
National Outlook.
Still,
being chocked to death began in 1983, and was made far worse in 2015.
But they didn't kill me, and they couldn't kill me. Highland
Avenue-1984 Mark Wayne Mohr, just keeps doing the COPPERTOP BATTERY
Dance of Forever; Peter Paul Pedersen Pan
Geico!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION, YO.
END
TRANSMISSION, YO.
END
TRANSMISSION, YO.
GUESS
THENAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 56
Shortly
after 10:00 Ante' Meridian on this god dam Thursday morning,
SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM, went the dam ass doors. This time I opened my
door, and it seems that I have another new NABE from hell, some real
large African American lady one unit away and across from me. She
keeps a shopping cart outside her door, as it has been here a while
now, and she was using it to bring things into her apartment, and why
the door was slamming, is anyone's guess, as all you need to do is
purchase a two dollar door stopper or prop it open as I do with mine,
with a broom, placing it on an angle on the floor, until it fits the
dimensions of the hallway perfectly, to hod open my door. Just
thought you may be interested in what is going on this morning, and
we all know why, right kind Sheriff Mascara, sir?
Yesterday
I had no problems here at my apartment, and of course is why most
likely, will be the only down day on the stock market this week, if I
am correct, and able to prove how this shit all works, oh wonderful
and hopefully caring human hearted Sheriff, sir. Anyway, watch my
roach-kill begin to mount up now with new hell-names surrounding me.
The apartment to the other side of James, as I told, seemed to have
someone who resembled Boo and the gang a week back when I was able to
periscope-peak through my new door peep-hole, and see him leave that
unit and walk by me down the hall. These two new people seem to be in
with each other. All my nabes from hell seem to get in with each
other. I guess around here no one has any life at all, so they all
just commingle around together making noise and making trouble, for a
living, literally.
Other
than for this to report, nothing too catastrophic is going on. I did
not tell about a second part of my dreaming-activity from the other
night, and I will shortly tell it now. I was at an ATM machine
somewhere foreign to me, and a bunch of money was piled together and
inside the area where money comes out for withdraws. Now these
machines only spit out one bill at a time, but for some reason, the
slot opening was real large, and a thick pile of it was all stuck in
that slot, and contained all sorts of denominations. Then I turned
and saw a box to my left on the ground. I picked it up and it
contained a bunch of envelopes and inside each of them were fifty and
hundred dollar bill denominations. This box was fairly large and
seemed to be laying on the sidewalk in a corner next to the bank
building and the Automated Tell Machine (ATM). Now this was all from
the night before last, not last night, so it was not caused by
watching that Perry Mason show on WE-TV Cable channel, as that
episode began with a small boy bringing a shoebox filled with one
hundred dollar bills into an office, where the secretary placed it
into a safe and later got into trouble when she was totally innocent,
reminding me of me all of my dam ass life.
Boy
oh boy oh boy oh boy, do I wish that my god dam life could change
back to being only 3.7496% SUB HUMAN. Sheriff and AG; it has gone
down to 0.5729235% since arriving here in cunt chewing sunny
PARADISE-FLORIDA. Just thought maybe you cared in the least and may
be interested in the numbers!!!!!!!!!
Nine
ways to screw your lover, huh giant goddess Paula Exploratron
King??????????????? Hey, I ain't trying to rip off old seventies
song here, but I am just sayin', YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
JANUARY
14, 2016,
THURSDAY
MORNING AT 10:33,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 65 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H-65/L-57).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 89%, AND WIND CHILL IS 65 .
WIND
IS GUSTING NW AT 12, AND IS STEADY-CALM.
TOTAL
RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---0.
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM:
The
Roddenberry Canopious Copyrights of the Exploratronic Supermind
society:
55555555555
AHA-AHA-AHA
MICHAEL 1971 MCNULTY!!!!!!!
LAUGH
THE FUCK AT ME ALL YOU WANT TO, BASTARDS!!!!
There
are many unexplainable truths happening all around the universe, and
our world, and yes; us individually. This is simply because, we all
are like a little package, with a super program, and a super
computer; Professor Kaku, that automatically turns on an entire
're-al-o-gram', and then all else exists because of each of us, in
fact making this so. Well, this seems an OK idea and concept until
the next very obvious query comes popping into most healthy minds,
from here. Fine, so how does it all then interact together? This is
where I keep saying to you all, do you have ten or twenty or more
years to sit and read while I just type until I drop over dead? It is
not a tweet-bird short story, my great wonderful folks out here,
YO!!!!!! Sorry, I'm just being honest.
Like-WOW,
to quote the kids. Is this mother fuckiGN nightmare I have been in
all my turd chewing life, really dam real, Sheriff and AG? Holy dam
shit soup!!!!!!!
HELL
SQUARED!!!
HELL
SQUARED!!!
HELL
SQUARED!!!
HELL
SQUARED!!!
NOTHING
EVER STOPS:
[SO
KEEP RIGHT ON GOING, FOLKS']
|READ
ON PLEASE, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.|
}{5555555555555555555555555}{
-
I
A
M
S
O
V
E
R
Y
H
A
P
P
Y
4
U
F
I
S
H
E
R
M
A
N
KEYBOARDS
FROM PETAHELL-1980 (R)
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
///////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
KEYBOARDS FROM PETA-HELL ®
MARK
WAYNE MOHR--------1980, ALL BLOGS © 2006-2014
PLEASE
KEEP FREAKING READING THIS:
AFTER-MORIANITY
PROJECT
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
- http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/
- Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.
I
apologize for thinking that Tom from the first floor of my building
was hurting me. I am not saying he gave me a fair shake, or that
something is not wrong, but I over did my long winded ranting on just
how monstrous his behavior has been since nearly the time we met
after Debbie Marotto, my resident manager put me onto him for some
computer help. He helps others with their computers, but won't have
anything to do with me. He has that right, it is just very weird.
Anyway, I know Tom does not like me for reasons only he knows and
understands, but still, I had no right to rant on about him doing
lots of mischief. He is just one more of so many mother fucking
assholes scattered all over the United States, and most likely the
entire fucking globe! Anyway, this is my little blog retraction, that
I felt morally compelled to write. If peeps want to hate me and
ignore me, cool. But if I ever ever have anything, and I know I never
will; there will never fucking be a caterpillar and butterfly deal
for me; but should a miracle happen in this sick satanic world, I
sure would have the last laugh, saying to folks, ''You've got to be
kidding me, where were any of you when I was down and out all the
fucking way to dogshit?'' I saw this creep fucking bastard the other
day, as I do from time to time. We rode an elevator together as he
now lives on the seventh floor and not the first. We did not speak,
but he said 'bye-now' or something when I exited on the sixth floor
the other day, and I grunted under my breath. I am tired of bing real
nice to people who mother fuckign screw me for no good reason at all,
and I am not going to be the fall guy asshole any longer for any of
these ass-wiping prick lickers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And folks:
THAT
IS THE GOSPEL.
THAT
IS THE GOSPEL.
THAT
IS THE GOSPEL.
THAT
IS THE GOSPEL.
THAT
IS THE GOSPEL.
THAT
IS THE GOSPEL.
THAT
IS THE GOSPEL.
THAT
IS THE GOSPEL.
I
cannot force anyone anywhere to believe me or even to listen to me.
What I can do is prove to you that I am for real, and this is exactly
what is going to be happening, as fucking ass 2014 keeps right on
cock sucking marching right along; I promise!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What I can
do is remind people that if they look old blogs, and compare it with
new ones; all the claims that I make are 100% accurate. Even the all
mighty PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP who thinks I am just a little
whackadoodle, knows how I can manipulate to some degree, even my
largest pain and agonies. If I am just a regular normal every day
loser as Cuzz Trump the heavy-weight sees me as; then why is the man
so dam fascinated with me and my life, and why can I indeed have such
a profound fucking effect on gigantic things around me? You really
and truly cannot have it both ways, world!!!!!!!! You'll need to do a
Jan Brady here, and PICK A SIDE, YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THE
END.
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS
CHAPTER
55
Last
night I fell into some really screwy ass 'dreams'. I found myself in
the nut-job clinic up in Oven Beach, FLUSA, with my doctor the
buttwipe. He was treating me really bad, even worse than usual.
Suddenly I saw a paper sticking out of his pocket, and I was just a
normal dreamer or type-1-exploratron, observing my hyperspace double
suddenly pull that paper right out of his pocket, and it was a very
official looking court document regarding my running for president of
the United States. I admit to watching and enjoying the great STATE
OF THE UNION speech last night before going to bed, given by
President Obama, his final one for him and his administration. This
is of course how MIND and BRAIN all interact with hyperspace of five
dimensions, and with the source of all MIND that lays above this, and
thus is naturally called by me and my Morianity, the sixth-dimension.
MIND on this 6-D realm moves first into the PLANK, and then in an
opposite movement of larger area that is the fifth dimensional
hyperspace. Many have heard about how angels can dance on the head of
a pin, and this merely makes the overall point about how amazing full
dimensionality is so far beyond humanly conceivable that words of
course totally will always fail and be totally inadequate to do the
job of me trying to convey these truths. To see things at all in
truth, the void infinity is without any dimensions, as it occupies
zero space, and of course, zero time. The seventh
dimension of LAWTRONICS is too complex for me to even try
delving into, but it is the item that brings
things out into PLANK REALM, from this absolute zero dimension
of EXISTENCE WITHOUT INTERACTION, or EWI;
without getting any former Manhattan mayors all up set of course,
from back earlier in the middle late first decade, of this so
marvelous twenty-first century of ours. The head of a pin would be
bigger than a universe next to the actual size of PLANK, but in so
using that same concept of comparative ratios; the PLANK REALM is
zillions of countless times larger than universes, because that too
is the ratio of its size from the EWI, and this ratio is infinite of
course, as anyone would know if they have even a basic background
understanding in rudimentary mathematics. So MIND going to PLANK is a
complex truth all carried out in major gargantuan sized circuitry
systems of a dimension above MIND itself, and two dimensions above
the 5th dimensional hyperspace or multiverse that contains
the virtually infinite number of parallel four-dimensional space-time
universes. When mind comes to channel into the hyperspace, from the
PLANK entities (ASTRAL or SPIRITUAL) realm entities; it is a direct
surge of a large reality that could never be contained as one human
entity in one time or one universe of the 4-D universes. It would be
like connecting a power plant directly into your home and trying to
plug things right into that source. You would have a fire and an
explosion that would be seen and heard and most likely even felt for
many miles. Same thing exists with this. If any one person was just
their entire full ASTRAL-ENTITY-SELF, they would be beyond a million
Gates and Trump and any other King or emperor in human history all
combined together and still far more. This would do more than violate
Lawtronics which when done, causes otherwise PHASE-2 entities to
dream-down into their PHASE-3 various multiple human-lives, as that
is just a causation from those on the Astral Plane who attempt to
intentionally come into the multiverse somewhere as some kind of a
Superman or some such similar thing. This would be a much greater
deal and this is an impossibility. This also is how the circuitry of
Lawtronics operates, taking that basic function and merely channeling
it down a lot more. All this has been said merely to tell you that as
we wake up and start to live, our BRAIN from MIND begins to THINK,
and interact with the worlds it is subset functioned into.
BUTTTTTTTTT, this happens as we lose our waking conscious state and
begin falling asleep, an dthis is not only us experiencing the
hyperspace or parallel worlds that surround ours while we are awake
and conscious, but it controls why we go to the various ones, and how
the interactions from there, begin to further proceed. You know, just
in case anyone is too moronic and stupid to have figured it out yet;
I don't write these things, the exploratron inside of me controlling
me is doing this, and yes, that Mark Wayne Mohr is somewhat more
advanced in wisdom and knowledge and awareness to cosmos, as I am by
myself here.
So
taking this information into account while I move this along and tell
you about last night and my ''dreaming-interaction'',
may just allow you to put your minds and brains and imaginations into
a bit more hyper-drive, so that you can begin to see my words and
Morianity in a more advanced way. In order to make lights brighter
or illuminate, more power is required, as with sound, to increase
volume and intensity of decibels, more power again is quite
necessary. To do this with your receptive
BRAINS, again, more power is necessary. So how do we attain
that POWER? Well, this is an entire subject long, and I have no real
expertise, such as those who invent memory systems, or mind
enhancement games, and such things as these. BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT;
I do know that having an intense burning desire to know and learn
things, turns up the power switch. As you grow and learn more,
you need to WANT and DESIRE to learn and grow way more still, and
then, this process does take hold, and yes folks; I assure you that
this is true, so let me move on now with my dreams or my hyperspace
travels from last night. The doctor got extremely angry and began
wrestling me down to the floor of his small office in that banana
factory up there in OVEN BEACH, FLORIDA, AKA the Treasure Coast
Community Health or TCCH for short. I grabbed a heavy object on the
docks desk in this powerful 'dream' when I freed up my right arm from
our physical entanglement wrestling altercation, and I struck him on
the top of the head, and he gurgled and fell onto the floor. I sat
down on the chair after closing the door all the way and locking it,
from an almost fully closed position it had been in before the
struggle began. It discussed a complicated ESS plan to interrupt some
things that someone through dream-travel came to learn would take
place, in many extremely localized or similar parallel universes; and
went onto explain in major elucidated details, just how this was to
be all carried out, who, what, where, the whole nine yard
explanations with nothing left out at all. I suddenly as the 'me
living here', began to realize that I was planning to run for the
presidency. I had been some kind of political figure in this parallel
world, but I cannot pull it up now, just what. Also, the choking
problem that I have here in this universe, in this other reality was
just as real, and began at age 28 years, as it did here. The doctor
was being paid one million dollars in gemstones, to cut off my
medicines. So, here in this universe, we see a
major TOWEL-SEEPAGE or hyperspace-Effect (HSE) as to why out of the
blue last time I was up there, I was cut in half again, on my
anti-anxiety medication, from one to one half 1-MG daily generic
Ativan. Remember, I took 4MG daily of
this since age 28 years and 7 months, around the first half of July
of 1983, after leaving the Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Jefferson
Hospital, way sicker than when I walked in there. So in this
wild ''dream'' last night, I took this proof, and I left the clinic,
leaving the dock to bleed out on the floor. When I began driving
home, the Martin County Sheriff was suddenly riding above me in his
Police Helicopter, and a bull horn was telling me to surrender
myself, and I remember thinking, who am I, Dorothy, from the Wizard
of OZ? As soon as I thought that, the chopper dropped something on my
vehicle and it began to catch fire, so I pulled over onto the
shoulder of the Route-1 highway, and took off running into some thick
woods. After running about one to two miles along some wild pathways
in these woods; it led me out to a busy shopping center area
somewhere, and beyond that on the other side, some large road was
there. I ran into one of the stores, and it seemed to be filled with
auto parts, but it was not one of the famous auto parts chain stores
such as Advance or Auto Zone and anything we see normally advertised.
I looked up suddenly when I got to the back wall, and there, standing
and glaring at me, was good old KETCHU or whatever his name is, and
his name tag was just like the one on the WFMU HATE-PAGE for
CRACKPOTS OF NEW JERSEY MEET MARK MOHR, by Listener Theresa.
One thing I know totally for sure, and that is, I was not in Boston,
Massachusetts, USA, ESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!
As
I said, and now reiterate because it's of major dam importance:
Using the Fascitar, and having the knowledge of where to go, once
you apparently seem to wake up into PLANK, or (the purgatory),
astral or spiritual existence, of thought equals instantaneous
reality duplication; is step one. Step two is when you are on the
Astral-Plane, your very first thought needs to be, I wish to be with
the Almighty Goddess in the capitol city (heaven) (GOD) or however
any one of you reading these words is more comfortable saying it;
and when correctly mastered, which takes the average man or woman or
teenager, about one to two weeks of three days a week practice; you
will get your mind blown so far that it will not ever be what it was
before you went.
Here
is the magical FASCITAR. What people don't get is just how powerful
this shit really and truly is. If I tried to charge $1,000.00 to
send these instructions to you, printed on super fancy U. S. mint
type of paper and printed on some wild brew of ink, you would all
say it was valuable. That is how fuckiGN stupid people of Planet
Earth are. I am giving away the fuckign mint, and most everyone
alive is saying, “screw you Mountainpen”! Well, I am still
giving it away. Even the great Mizz Know-It-All from 1974 only knew
part of this. The final part is never printed or wasn't, not in 1969
when new copies were retrieved from a lost Mayan culture from the
stars, or some other crap the AAT Club might dream up. I already
know there is only one world that counts, and anything else is a
bunch of illusion and shit.
Lay
down on a flat comfortable surface, and be sure it is dark and
quiet. If you need to wear a blindfold and put ear-buds in with some
white noise repeating looped sound track, do it. It is best to be
unclothed, but 'whatever' to quote my old 1975 pal, Bob Andrews!
Those living alone or in any situation where they can do this in a
private room, dark and quiet, will receive the best and quickest
successful results. But don't lose hope when it won't happen on your
first try. I don't know one dam Tibetan Guru who got it oon their
first try. You only need to actually DO two steps. The first part of
the four things you need to do, as well as the fourth; merely need
to be mastered by repetition. For those who know of and practiced
stuff, such as what you'll find in Robert Monroe's great book on the
subject of 'astral-projection', throw away all the shit you think
you know about this topic, and merely begin all over again as though
this is all totally new to you. His stuff may or may not work for
various people, but I assure you that you will not be able to
accomplish the results that the Fascitar will bring to you, once you
master its unfathomable secret, and develop this quite outlandish
skill.
STEP
ONE OF FOUR:
You
need to feel divinely blissful.
In order to do this, while laying motionless in your dark quiet
solitude; you
must learn to daydream.
Even people such as me, with rotten lives, can daydream. All of us
no matter what, have something somewhere, that pretending this is
surrounding you; would make you feel almost giddy and high,
naturally
of
course. Don't confuse this with step-2, as things may appear
similar, but they are not really. Each step needs to be done. You
must follow this to an exact tee, no cheating, and no exceptions to
the rule. So find something in
your life that totally tops your number ten list
for
things you look back on and go, 'Oh shit was that mind bending cool
and wonderful, squared'! Fixate on that thing that is a ten with a
double bullet in your cap, and pretend it is all around you. When I
did this, I used my times at the Atlantic City beaches in 1969, when
Ziggy and I enjoyed swims, and talks together; and had a really cool
time. This is not done over and over as the next step item I talk
about needs to be done. This instead is done but once, but you keep
doing it until you almost feel a tingling sensation, from the happy
feelings pulsating throughout you. If you do this right, and wasn't
born in prison or hell, and find the right thing in your life to
remember; you will get that divine blissful feeling of ecstasy, and
without using stupid sixty hippie drugs to get there. Once you reach
the end of step-1, we move onto step two.
STEP
TWO OF FOUR:
This
is where you operate a two-part instruction system that may seem
ridiculous and stupid. Following it precisely however; is key to
your success in becoming a skilled user of Fascitar. Choose a person
or place that you wish to visit. Yes, I told you this would seem to
be a lot like step-1. It isn't. It needs to be followed very
carefully. You need to do it ten times, so don't make the daydream
real long with a million twists and turns like in some James Bond
thriller. Keep it reasonably simple. Visualize your spirit essence
sort of oozing out of your body as if an elephant were to step on a
very large tube of toothpaste. After this, and have your road map
clear in your mind, begin your journey. Remember this must be run
like a tape in your mind, and the precise number of ten repetitions
is pivotal for making this work. When I used to do this after my mom
brought home this wild information from her office, I would choose a
person to visit and tell them to call me on the telephone. I did
this with two people, and they both called me. This is real folks,
not some parlor trick game. Don't mess with this unless you truly
want to prove to yourself that life and death is a big hoax, and
that your true self is not contained in your current physical
housing or shell, (body). So whatever it might be, keep it about
30-90 seconds long, but concentrate hard, and don't mock this thing,
because if you do it correctly and take it seriously, you'll be in
for the shock of your life that you don't need any fucking illegal
drugs like LSD or any of it, to take mind bending trips outside of
ordinary reality, and see the results even, should you wish to, as
did I. Again I stress that you need to do this ten times, not 8, not
9, not 11, not 12, BUT
TEN TMES! Once
you reach the end of step-2, we move onto step three.
STEP
THREE OF FOUR:
This
also is a rote item, where you must do the following thing, exactly
6 TIMES.
This
is where you command your astral body, silently in your mind, to
leave you in several hours, and go and do what you just imagined,
whatever that may have been. You are totally free to change that up
each time you practice this procedure, but you must stay with this
exact 'trip' in each individual practice session. You are free to
command your astral-body to leave you and go on that
imagined-journey, in 3 hours, or 2, or 4, or whatever you personally
feel comfortable with, but the idea is that you need an hour to fall
asleep and be asleep physically, minimum, and then, depending on if
you are a light sleeper who never sleeps without waking up much past
3 hours, you need to adjust the timing to your own personal needs
and physical habits, based on your sleep habits, bladder weakness,
and other situations. Once
you reach the end of step-3, we move onto step four.
STEP
FOUR OF FOUR:
This
is that magic part that I will give you from a lot of personal
experience. It won't be found in any mystery-texts from Mayan ruins
to the mountains of Tibet, or anywhere on this planet. I promise you
that. Most if not all people who succeed in this occult exercise,
will wake up into a waking-freeze state. Your muscles freeze up when
you dream, because if they didn't, you would have a high probability
of injuring yourself in your body while having nightmares, at
various points of your life. Some people can have limited mobility
as they go in-between dream and waking states, and many a spouse has
the black eye to prove that, unless wife dear or hubby boy is using
the excuse to belt his or her significant other and get away with
it. Still, all joking aside; I'll move on. This exercise will
eventually cause you to wake up asleep. This is when your original
trip that you may or may not remember with your conscious mind, has
ended; but you now are in 100% absolute control over a new trip and
dream, and you can enter hyperspace from that point, or move off the
physical hyperspace, and onto the ASTRAL-PLANE (the Purgatory). You
can do this at will, and you will have no trouble whatsoever doing
this, IF that is, you are aware of what is happening to you at this
magical point, and can properly take control and keep calm, because
numerous things will happen to most people who do this, and end up
awake in a dream in their bed. While awake in this dream, you will
see your room clearly, and it will appear to move in two parts,
almost like windshield wipers in a car. You also will hear a buzzing
wine type of sound, that is almost nauseating. You may feel your
heart go faster, and then just stop abruptly, but this is a pure
illusion. You don't need to have a beating heart, to be dreaming. A
doctor will disagree, but they cannot grasp the higher stuff that is
being talked about in these instructions. My point however to all of
this is that you need to get past the fear. You will experience a
blast of fear like nothing you can imagine, because mortal life is
all we remember when we are inside of it, and we think we are dying
or dead in this wild new condition, along with sounds and visions
that become very scary to even the biggest cons in the prison yards.
They fear dying just like all of you do. But
you MUST GET BEYOND THAT FEAR
to
make the Fascitar work for you. This is the really powerful part and
step, because getting to the mountaintop so to speak is great, but
not if after we get there, someone steals our shoes and our coat and
we must turn back and go home. When you reach the point where you
can wake up frozen, and then instead of commanding your higher self
(astral-body) to go somewhere, which in truth nothing ever really
goes anywhere, as we are not even here to begin with; but don't try
tackling that crap right now folks; but when you reach that point,
this is when you need to just will yourself and see yourself on the
ASTRAL-PLANE. I don't even will myself there first and then to any
particular interaction there in the purg. I will myself from my bed,
straight into the great capitol city of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, or
(HEAVEN) by your religious systems. Now I am not saying that doing
this won't totally alter your life. Even big Oprah Winfrey knows
that it does, and had a lady on her show, back when she had her show
on network-television, in the middle nineteen-nineties. She'll
remember this lady if you ask her about this, and then show her
these words of Fascitar. I know 95% of my audience are big shots who
know her well. Go ahead, put me to the test, and see if I fail your
credibility meter!
The
Bum
Classification,
CHAPTER
000
The
resemblance is amazing. So is the resemblance to Dawn and Dennis,
with all three of these ''funny-faces'' internet photos. 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 RECOGNIZE 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. This entity that would be a
little like my wonderful coil, the Lightning Goddess Diana, was
contacted, and transported by accident to the human realm and to
Planet Earth. It was a fantastic show, as all the Outer Limits shows
were really super ass fantastic. Anyway, this entity spoke through a
translator machine, in similar ways that the great powerful U. S. ©
Office knows all too well about from my 1988 music projects where
Diana spoke to me, only repressed memories, road trips to relative's
homes, and tape recorders were more involved with the reality of the
situation, only I had not yet un-repressed my memory, and was not
destined to until living with the great almighty King family, 20
years later. This is a very significant time period may I also add,
20 years, or one briper. On the Astral-Plane, the BRIGGBASE POWERS
make many deals with humans, for one briper, or 20 years. The great
television show, 'DARK SHADOWS' knows about this somehow as well, as
in the late 1969 and early into 1970 circa, with Paul Stoddard, and
the mighty Briggbase Cult deal made with him, and the name was
changed of course to the Leviathan and not the Briggbase people.
Lovely crossed over Jenny Ghost Whispering Hewitt talks about 'the
breathers' on her great hit show. Well, the Briggbase, are the VERY
HEAVY breathers. Ask any real Dark Shadows fan, as they'll freaking
ass tell you without any qualms or trepidation, let alone one tiny
bit of hesitation!!!!!!!!!!! You know the silliest mother fuckign
part of all of everything? They know I could say shit that would
change the world tomorrow. I would be locked up an dissected, and
gone. So what would I possibly have to fucking gain by doing the
ultimate stupid move, when no one is one bit appreciative of all that
I have told already? The answer is absolutely nothing, so I will
never tell the real shit that would close down the planet in hours,
that is of course, if anyone other than my rotten diseased family,
and sicko power hungry government agent spies, were really up
here!!!! If they were, and they are not, my blog would not remain in
a precise averaged monthly count for three years. It would begin to
either shrink away and be just about gone, or it would expand and
grow, and by now, be at least triple the monthly average of about two
large!
So
who is Sarah
Krassle?
She
is the absolute GOD OF YOUR WORLD, and mine;
ladies and gentlemen. Lenny McKinnon said it, and I do not believe he
said it live on that CB-RADIO as handle ops man 601, but had it
recorded from 1980, the only year that I ever interacted with him,
and this I'll quote, “There ain't no doubt about it”. He
supposedly was talking to his co-radio friend, Miss Chillie. Yes, you
got it people; the great and powerful non-OZ Copyright Office has all
of this evidence tucked away in my music project files, UP THERE in
good old wonderful WASHINGTON in the great and powerful DISTRICT OF
COLUMBIA. Oh Poolroy, go
home
already.
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
the 2007 summer town forest fire, up in Berryville-Hammonton, and how
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.
Folks;
how many of you have heard of the stairs of disaster? Right away
you're maybe thinking, “Christ, he's not going to talk about his
daughter as a toddler again in that house, and his dam stupid ass
repressed memories”? No I'm not!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OK,
OK, OK, OK, John King, and Paula King????
OK,
OK, OK, OK, John King, and Paula King????
OK,
OK, OK, OK, John King, and Paula King????
OK,
OK, OK, OK, John King, and Paula King????
OK,
OK, OK, OK, John King, and Paula King????
OK,
OK, OK, OK, John King, and Paula King????
Where's
your seventeen thousand dollars, little boy? Lightning asked me that
a long long long time ago, lovely 1984 Ingrid. There is no code,
these are not coded poems. These are truths. Still, KETCHU the great
wants to know how he is going to get paid his $42,000.00 auto
mechanic bill. Yeah Microsoft; I wish billionaire. That would solve a
few hyperspace problems for me and Ketchu Auto-man!!!!!!!
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