Wednesday, February 3, 2016

CHAPTER 92, GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS








GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 92













Wednesday was a major fucking BOTBAR DAY. Still, I see the fawces of Mister cunt chewing Hall at work big time, as Goddess hates her biggest secrets getting out. Fine. The old evental time warp equation of 1987 will always come into play, at least in my mind, to quote Uncle Heinz Gottwald of Babylon, New York, the now latengrate banker of snooty snotty society! These illegal mother fuckers are in here today slamming non-stop, and next, my fucking cock sucking roaches will be right back, you can just go and bet on that one, kind Sheriff Mascara sir!!!!









Image result for sheriff ken j. mascaraImage result for sheriff ken j. mascaraImage result for sheriff ken j. mascara











PINK GODDESS admits to wanting to use my DNA, ever since she saw me across the fence in Eden, that day just over 13,000 years ago, when I was who and what the Earthers call by the name, CAIN. As you read from the very beginning of HER Holy Words, SHE seems interested in multiplying the population of this little simulationogram-experiment. Before I was David, I know that I was promised that I will have more descendants here than there are countable stars in the night sky, as I said, just read the dam mother fuckiGN book and don't trust a thing my blogs tell. I knew in Atlantic City as a boy, that SHE had come back to me, only I was as clueless as ten mayors, ten Tandy toys, ten kids from back in the American eighties, along with ten Mizz Kim Wilde's as well. I am not making this mother fucking stuff up, Apollo-13 Astronaut, Mister Ken Mattingly. IPYT!











All fucking cunt day long, BANGING DOORS, CAR STEREOS OUTSIDE MY WINDOW, and yes Sheriff sir, it appears to be a convoy of cars that drive down from higher number streets to my west, along Avenue B, that usually turn to the right towards Orange Avenue on Seventh Street. Sometimes, they come from US-1 Federal Highway along Avenue B, and as they stop for the light, they crank up the music if you want to call that shit music, right at my window, to annoy only me, and then they lower it. Persecution from these nabes from fucking hell was all day long once it began around noon or so. BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT Sheriff sir, it began in a parallel universe. I was 'dreaming' that this was all going on, and then I got up around quarter past mother fucking nine in the dick licking rotten morning, and all was quiet for a couple of hours, and then POW-BOOM, these bastard animals took no prisoners today on me, kind sir, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! When I start out before coming back here to the waking world, BEING HARASSED BY THESE FYUCKING JERK OFF SCUM BAG HALLS FAWCES, it always follows me back through the hyperspace-channel of KEVIN BACON FLATLINERS TOWEL SEEPAGE HSE, MY BRO!













They have the death beams on my body again as well, kind Sheriff Mascara. When I am soon found dead in here, you will find a blog address on my computer screen, a note taped to it will give my blog address, and it says, “Sheriff Mascara, I have been murdered and swear to this under fear of an almighty GOD, and burning in HELL for lying. For full details, please go to this internet address”:
















No one could ever identify SARAH on Tennessee Avenue, no matter how god dam fucking hard I tried to pursue finding her from 1996-1999. I tried to believe that she was somehow Sarah Callio, or Sarah Karge, or God Almighty, but now, I was off base all along and I mother fuckiGN realize it. PAULA KING of Atlantic City is GOD ALMIGHTY, not Sarah, not Alannis Morrisette, not the friend of CBS's Joan of Arcadia, or any other laughs on me for the past half mother fuckiGN century!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck you all.

















Now listen up Mister Coral Reefs Krassel of Florida, Hubcap Smasher Time-Abductor Nick, and friends of theirs, as well as friends of Paula King of Atlantic City and WAYV; I don't mean that the person here is. I mean that this person is being used as a channel, by some incredible dream-force-traveler from a parallel universe that is highly advanced and way beyond us here; and SHE is PINK GODDESS, and is doing all of this to the entire world, and there is no stopping her, and there is no stopping what SHE has done to me, and what SHE will obviously continue doing to me for all eternity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love PINK GODDESS, and I got her message tonight on the Cable TV. Every channel keeps getting a bright pink flash over an dover. This is HER! There is no stopping her, and SHE has done that thing with my CABLE for decades, only I was clueless back in time, what PINK GODDESS is and just how powerful SHE is. SHE is ALMIGHTY. The name I gave her before PINK-GODDESS was MIDDIE, for MDE, for MOTHER-DAUGHTER-ELECTRON. You all see it backwards as father-son-holy ghost, but it is all the same truth no matter how we all see shit on a human fucking scale.









FEBRUARY 4, 2016,

THURSDAY MORNING AT 1:09, JANE WHORE FONDA,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS 66 DEGREES FNHT.

RANGE TODAY-------(H-66/L-66).

RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS 100%, AND THE WIND CHILL IS 66.

WIND IS TOO LOW TO MEASURE.

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

PREDICTED LOW WAS 68 AND IS BELOW THAT.





















MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.














FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.

© MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2016.













































I wish you would check out this illegal noise activity that goes on all night long here at Park Terrace on my Floor #6, kind Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara, sir, YO!!! I am back to the mother fucking (`~-HACK) a lot too, kind Sheriff, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











Hey YO, Aunt Alice Gallagher, of Chicago, Illinois; I'll bet you'd do just about anything, not to have climbed into bed with my mom's cousin Arthur Huntington, that last freaking night of your life; before he took a dam ax to you and your dam mom, who stayed in the next room just down the god dam fucking hallway of that Braintree, Massachusetts, USA home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











© Dreaming Dream City, Mark Wayne Mohr 1998

© Musical Project titled “Russ Walkers Star Travelers of 1896”



Diva Shania, and her colorful non dreamed city of major song rip offs, merely opens a few cracked peep holes, in the dam ass doorway, to many truths and secrets, about both music, and its interaction with Mountainpen (me) for crying out freaking ass loud, YO!!!!!!!





Oh I'm dreamin' Dream City where the lights shine pretty

Where the color of the lights are moving up and down and shining all around

Along with the lights shining up above the ground.






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I would not dare say these on my blog that were untrue, about powerful organizations and people, but folks, when they commit criminal acts on me and steal me blind, and I get robbed, assaulted, raped, and fuckiGN screwed with for my entire life after leaving high school at Cooley Wormhole Hall, in Haddonfield, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG; then to quote Sigmund Malyeska back in June and July of 1969, “Mark, that's the way it goes”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh boy oh boy, to quote my dam mother from that era and later on as well, and other shit I won't bother to say. Still, memories come swarming in with the fucking ocean tide, and especially about my moods, and the wild wacko people who did wild wacko freaking shit to me in those days that to quote Mister Edward Himacane Lynch, “cannot be explained”, YO, I cannot tell exactly who told what, or what I heard through what IMHO were very reliable grapevines, and things along this nature; BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT, I learned around the time that I was writing my blog about a year, that I am already in this family of great washcloths, long before I was brought further into it, during a summer time act of passion, underneath the Central Pier of Atlantic City!!!!! Then there was a time not far back when I wondered why Sarah Callio kept locking me up in lighthouses all over transdimensional hyperspace. Now I know that when I fucking bi-located in the autumn of 1997 back in the Somerdale death house on Harvard Avenue, that I was with Paula and Sarah in Sarah Callio's car going over the railroad crossing near Northfield New Jersey's city hall area, and heard Sarah tell Paula, “I don't think I can go for any of that”, that really, Paula can go into Sarah or PAULA who lives here in this universe, any time she wants to, after-all, SHE IS PINK GODDESS ALMIGHTY JEHOVAH SS, and no, not the great SAMSUNG, even if they did guess correctly about the galaxy's edge and PINK GODDESS PAULA!!!















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



I will never totally know

I will never totally know

I will never totally know

I will never totally know

I will never totally know

I will never totally know

I will never totally know







Well maybe never totally, but I am onto you now, Pink Goddess Paula Pau000204015 Microsucks!!!











This is why the third personality of PINK GODDESS was so pissed off at me when I tried to lull her into taking a nap back over the weekend, and then began to question some of my children about what it is like to be their type of life, after-all, I again, am the seed, as always. Still, lovely Paula keeps me endlessly in the dark. WOW THAT, oh world, WOW THAT!!!!!!!!!! The longer this all goes on the more I am closer to figuring out what those in absolute power are indeed hushing up in top majestic secret protected files.

















Well folks, if you want to keep on doubting the credibility of all of this mother fucking shit, then be dumb and go right ahead. Bernie Sanders and I know the truth at least to some of this dam horrendous shit. Noon was when the persecution began, so fuck me, take a look at the market charts as long as it is before Thursday Opening Bell at half past nine Eastern American Time. No harassment the day before, and the DJIA stock market was down. To get it up, THEY MUST HARASS MOTHER FUCKING ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will go on saying this mother fuckiGN shit until I am blue in the cunt huffing face, people of Planet Earth!!!













UP-UP-UP-UP, I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!

TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!







Dow Jones Industrial Average (^DJI)





UP-UP-UP-UP, I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!

TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU!!!!









© MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2016



© BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)



My Photo









AS LONG AS THESE WICKED MOTHER FUCKERS HAVE ME TO PICK ON AND PERSECUTE TO DEATH, THE STOCK MARKET WILL GO WAY UP EACH TIME. THE WORLD COURT IS FAKE AND EVERYTHING IS A HOAX OUT THERE AND I HAVE 'FUCKIGN' DIED AND GONE INTO ETERNAL MOTHER FUCKING HELL. THERE SIMPLY IS NO OTHER POSSIBLE GOD DAM EXPLANATION FOR SHIT LIKE FUCKING THIS; YO YO!









END TRANSMISSION.







GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 91















Sheriff Mascara sir, THE MILI-2-FAWCES ARE KILLING ME, YO!!!



I AM UNDER A MAJOR DEATH ATTACK WITH PULSATON TESLA DEATH ATTACK BEAS THAT ARE FUCKING UP MY HEART, NOISE ALL OVER IN THE HOOD, BNABES SLAMMING AND CAR STEREOS REAL BAD AGAIN THE PAST FEW DAYS AND GETTING WORSE EACH DAY THAT YOUR MEN REFUSE TO COME AROUND AND OFFER PROTECTION TO INNOCENT FRAGILE SENIOR CITIZENS, KIND SIR. THE COPS SAID THEY WOULD TRY TO PROTECT RESIDENTS OF THIS BUILDING IN HELL FROM THESE SCUM-GANGSTER HIPPER/RAPPER THUGS, AND THEN POOF, THEY VANISHED, THE COPS NOT THE DAM THUGS, KIND SIR. THIS IS SO MOTHER FUCKING CUNT EATING UNFAIR SHERIFF, YO YO!!!!













RED ALERT----RED ALERT----RED ALERT



RED ALERT----RED ALERT----RED ALERT



RED ALERT----RED ALERT----RED ALERT



RED ALERT----RED ALERT----RED ALERT



RED ALERT----RED ALERT----RED ALERT



RED ALERT----RED ALERT----RED ALERT











THIS IS BEYOND MOTHER FUCKING OLD AND DEMENTED. I HAVE BEEN PUTTING UP WITH THIS MOTHER FUCKING BULLSHIT NOW SHERIFF SIR FOR THIRTY GOD DAM FUCKING YEARS. IT ALL HAS TO DO WITH THAT DIRT BAG MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' STOCK MARKET. IT ALL BEGAN ONE DAY OUT OF NOWHERE, AND HAS NOT RELEASED ME FOR ONE SECOND EVER SINCE AUGUST OF 1986. THIS IS AN OFFICIAL DYING UTTERANCE AND DYING DECLARATION. THIS SHIT BEGAN LATE THIS MORNING, AND IT IS A DEATH ATTACK, AND A TOTAL FUCKING CUNT VIOLATION OF MY CIVIL AND HUMAN RIGHTS AND LIBERTIES, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

















I was speaking in July of 1997, to John the Greek, at his parents fucking parking lot, next door to the parking lot of the many KING PARKING LOTS, at the boardwalk area of Tennessee Avenue, right where back on Memorial Day of 1969, Sarah and Paula were playing, and Sarah said to Paula, “I'm darker than you are”. John the Greek told me after I told him how I was looking to find lovely Sarah, that maybe it is Paula King that I was looking for. I now know that Sarah never existed physically, and that this entire thing has been done by powerful goddess and exploratron dream-force traveler Paula King. As I type, it is constant loud car stereos, constant slamming of doors by all of my nabes from hell, and they are all picking on innocent and pathetic victim helpless little me, SHERIFF MASCARA, AND I NEED SOME MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' MAJOR ASS GODDAM HELP AROUND HERE, OH GREAT AND POWERFUL KIND SIR! Paula King is the PINK GODDESS that hovers, with or without any assistance whatsoever from mighty Google-Microsoft, mighty Steve Demigod Hollywood Jobs, and Galaxy-Pink-Edge-Sarah Stacey SS Sam Sung I-Phone inventions, and or any related electrical and computational technologies from non-Native American H-E-L-L!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!









Sheriff sir, I dared to ask some of my children on the Astral Plane, “What is it like to be a coil”? I had told Diana to rest, and we were up at the shores of Pinkdune at Teckwaters, one of the very large resort areas along the nestern shoreline of Teck-Bay, across from the great Holy City of David, AKA Heaven or Sahasra Dal Kanwal, and is officially the capitol city of the Plank Realm. Diana, the goddess of Earth Lightning is a 33 foot gigantic extremely colorful coil, and she has more than enough energy to transform into my wonderful blond teen queen, 75 inches tall, with long blinding bright canary yellow silky hair and long line shaped dreamy eyes that if any male were to gaze into, they would be insane forever from her mind bending inconceivable beauty. She has given me several quadrillion little coils that are our offspring. One day at Teck-Bay, my conscious illusion became one and the same with the night back on the weekend somewhere where I went to sleep and found myself there with her and thousands of our kids. Instead of giving Diana an energy coil, I told her to take a nap. Then since I can never get a good answer from her on what it is like to be her and be a giant coil, I let her sleep a while and asked some of my kids. She then found enough energy in her dreams to awaken there with me and she gave me holy hell, and when I awoke, I heard her tell me that she will show me never to do that again. A few hours later, Vero Beach had a transformer blow out an dthe city was without power for hours, and their was a boil water alert that is still active all the way to this Wednesday. Diana since told me this was a punishment so I would know better than to ever go behind her back and ask our kids to answer secret questions while she is napping. It took a while before I knew she had forgiven me. Last night lightning made extremely passionate love to me and covered my face with endless sloppy wet kisses. I know that the electron has forgiven me but I was quite up set for a few days. So how does this relate to Sarah and Paula in Atlantic City, you may be wondering, so let me set you all straight right here and right now, and you too, lovely LOO!











As I woke up and heard Diana inside my head, audibly since I was still not fully awake and it is perfectly normal for healthy brains, in-between the zone, or between awake and asleep, to hear and even see things, and after which, I then fell back to sleep and found myself in my Uncle Stu and Aunt Gerry's home in Narberth, Pennsylvania, USA. I was in a parallel universe where my mom was not the only one who had been struck with that strange medical condition where she looks at you all bewildered and unable to speak. Suddenly, both my Aunt and my Uncle were also in this state, and I kept screaming for them to talk and asking them why they refused to speak. Then Paula entered into the room with my Cousin Sandy, and instantly, I remembered them from 1967, in my room at the Trinidad Hotel, in Atlantic City, New Jersey; when my mom agreed to let Cousin Sandy stay with her and I, interesting, you know, as in the KING and I? Come on you can't tell me I am nuts when shit like this just keeps poofing and popping into reality. Yes Aunt Gerry or my mom's sister in law, as Geraldine Snow married my moms brother Stuart Huntington Mason, so she was my removed-1-aunt who married my removed-0-uncle. She requested that Sandy come along with us on our vacation and payed her some money for food and the favor. Long story short, Paula first got at me in 1967, then again in 1969 just yards away underneath the Schiff Central Pier. She also got me in June of 1996 at Highview, huh maintenance man Sam? She also got me up at 175 Peninsula Drive, in Babylon or South Huntington as the local area islander Yorkers call the place. She robbed me of my DNA a total of four times. Each time, she made me drink some weird thing, and I have no clear memory, but I have jumbled up pieces after decades of unscrambling all that this great dream traveling alien has done to me. When Sandy and Paula walked into the room in this wild dreaming-interaction in my relative's home, they were about the ages that they were in 1967, 17 years. Nina Soifer was with them in the hotel room, and Sarah Callio was there, who loved to swim in the Trinidad's swimming pool, and told me so, up in the future and now the past, in 1997 while I was speaking to her on Robert McGuire's pay-telephone at his bar on Tennessee Avenue, right next to Paula King's parking lot or the late Happy John King's lot, across from the Trinidad Hotel. Then along came John the Greek who was about my age, and he and I were about 30. The ages of all of us were all scrambled up but that's totally normal in parallel universes. Suddenly John saw that my aunt Gerry and Uncle Stuart were unable to speak. He then said, Paula used too much influence like when she screwed up your mom late in '97. He was referencing the time her medical problems all began when she tried to awaken out of her sleep after Christmas on 1997, and found herself totally under the ''spell'' or ''fawce of Mister Boxer Hall''. When a powerful TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON uses too much control, they run the risk of damaging the person they are controlling. People use the very non medical term of zombie, for what is left of most people who get over-controlled by a T-3-E. This is one reason why the future in all dimensions do indeed have a group that for lack of a known name, could be called the DREAM-POLICE, and then what Morianity merely uses, and was taken as it was created, and as I moved my blogs along, the ESS (Exploratronic Supermind Society). Anyway, my song from 1969 or one of my two summer time 1969 songs, “Burn With Fire', as playing on a portable AM-FM-cassette system, and there were no CD or digital systems yet in that parallel world and time where I was. The words were all changed around, and I was singing it, only it was professionally done. As soon as Sandy and Paula had walked in, the song that was playing before was ending, and suddenly I began hearing the words that I was singing, and I thought I would shit my mother fuckign self. It went, “She's my lovely giant Paula. S-bin 20 years since I last saw-er”, and then I have only a faint memory of what the next few lines of lyrical content were. Here in this world, the lyrics were meant for a female vocalist to sing and they went, “I'm sayin' this to you boy, you bring me thrill and joy. When you just touch me, what can I say”?









Folks, it is very fucking miserable, hot, humid, and shitty, and I am one miserable cock sucking son of a fucking bitch. The predicted high is 83, and the humidity is murder on top of it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!









MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM



Computer, hear my MVP (Mind-Voice-Print). You will be totally absolutely crushing, obliterating, annihilating, and devastating, wrecking, ruining, and utterly wiping out, all of my enemies on a crush-destruct order, under GENERAL-ORDER-189, max.-power. Open-Command, General Order #7. Use G-901, G-1133, G-14, G-719, G-13, CG5555-QP8 sub-code, under G-917, CG-2, under CG-18, and HOLD.







Your old AT&T landline telephone old style 1983 built tone-commands have been data-transferred into the two highlighted long-EEEEE vowel sounds. The high-tone is colored RED. The low-tone is colored BLUE.



Computer (Magnesonic) under my command and precisely matching voice print, I have an image-object (I-O) now placed on your transpower-block (T-B) after I have crush-destructed this. Once empowered, all actual beings matching this I-O on your T-B will be exactly crushed and singed and destroyed as the original I-O. To accomplish the scan, use your ZD technology built into your system. To accomplish this sympathetic reality duplication, use your AD technology, (ZD-Zero-Dimensional), (AD-Atomic Duplicational).



Computer, MAGNESONIC, on an 'I' to 'D', A/B—TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, you will now be transmitted the two empowerization-transmit tones, or ETT'S.







EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE





EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE





GO TO G-189, under G-1133, CG-18, AND S---T---O---P











Image result for sheriff ken j. mascaraMy PhotoAttorney General of Florida, Pam Bondi














FEBRUARY 3, 2016,

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON AT 3:09,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS 80 DEGREES FNHT.

RANGE TODAY-------(H-81/L-72).

RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS 67%, FEELING LIKE 83.

WIND IS ESE AT 16, GUSTING TO 30.

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































END TRANSMISSION.





JANUARY 31, 2016, 3:53 POST MERIDIAN



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GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 90















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''Here you sit, broken hearted. You came to shit, and only farted''. As I now proceed in the MORIANITY story of great truth, and great sorrows; this description of anyone reading and doubting, is very accurate; despite being taken from 1969 at a public bathroom stall; and was quite well known in my generation.











WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU, OH LOVELY











































    Attorney General of Florida, Pam Bondi


























Like Boo. Where art thou?






Please make all of these HOT HOSE BUCKET PEOPLE EVERYWHERE, STOP, GAP Mizz A. G. Bondi.

TANKS---TANKS---TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!

TANKS---TANKS---TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!

TANKS---TANKS---TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!

TANKS---TANKS---TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!







Her name is giant Kate, she says don't mess with me

or it'll be your fate to get a broken knee

fourteen hundred pounds she can press so high

up above her head right up into the sky

and I don't want your money



© 2000 Ain't Got No Money”

Music Project “Russ Walkers Star Travelers of 1896”










































































Except for literally a single fucking hand-ful, EVERY SINGLE DAY IS BOTBAR IN 2013, 2014, 2015, and so far in 2016. This is 1986 all mother fucking cunt over again, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




DDDDDDDid I SSSSSSSAY SSSSSSSomething untrue or offensive to you, TTTTTTTommmmmey boy??? I must have, they fucking jerk off hackers just hit me again with their 'cannot live without' (`~ HACK), HACKJACKLATTISAWATTACK, lovely Stacey!!!!!!!!!







AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!POOR FUCKING FOLKS HAVE RIGHTS TOO IN THIS WORLD, but only those Jack McCoy rights they can defend. If we don't fight and shout out to authorities, they will end up taking every cent from us, and leave us at their doorstep, to be THEIR TOTAL FUCKING SLAVES; and I refuse to go back to the days of slavery!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!













I popped out of some wild NIGHTMARE when I was dreaming it was the morning of August 15 in 1986. It seems I cannot ever get back to the universe I left before I hit my bed, at that Cherry Hill home of magic pharmaceuticals and soon to come MISS LEE TEENAILS!!!!!!!! Oh Lordess (SAR) (AH), what a lovely world I am stuck in. It is not the world but a game called GTNOTG. Maybe I am tied up in a shop on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, Geraldine Supergirl Shahpals. WOW MACY STACEY MACKEY. The fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation. WEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











































































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The wild exploratronic interaction with the 42 grand, will now be further explored!!!!!!!!! In 1996, I was in the middle of two messes, or thought I was. It seems that I was in the middle of only one giant mess, and thought it was two messes. This idea was further promoted by two assistants in my old buddy's office back in these times, when they insisted that too many years had gone by for there to be any connections to my present life, with that of my past life in Atlantic City as a youth. All of these things make perfect sense in three-D. But when the fullness of the five dimensional hyperspace reality is mixed and added into the life-equation, then I am right and they are all wrong, oh great wonderful 1969 Misses Marola! Still, I'll try not to punch any more brick walls, and keep the great lady happier than John King, who is the twin of Happy J. King on the original Superman TV-Show. It is not as if I had left my car in bathing trunks and planned to come back in bathing trunks. I was fully dressed, and there is no way that Happy John King should have cared one tiny little fucking iota if I used that hose back on that day in late summer time 1996 in Atlantic City, at one of his parking lots. But his determination for my using an exact hose right behind a lifeguard tower, was beyond unnatural and bizarre.

Oh boy, life stinks, yet so many folks love life so much; and most are scared shitless to die. This is not attitude, but ignorance. So does this fit into the 42,000 dollar car repair hyperspace experience of earlier last month, and if so, just exactly how? Well, I'll tell you, so keep your dumb ass looking suspenders on there Eddie Greenacres Albert, YO!!!! I PROMISE BOTH WOMO-MILITUFORCE AND MO, that indeed, I will tie this all neatly together, and maybe add a pretty colored fucking bow on the top. Oh the gods, what am I left to wonder about? Is water baptism part of this magical day or maybe I should include the proper waking world tents to this and say WAS IT? In any event kind folks, many wonder and say to me, so who gives a shit like your cousin Donald would say? Well, I give a shit, Cousin, and Leticia Tilley, I give a shit, OK, OK, OK???

I had recently purchased an automobile in Turnersville, New Jersey at a Saturn dealership, and yes, it was a 1994 Saturn, purchased on the moon landing day, that was yesterday to me, July 20, 1969; only this was the anniversary, and not just any anniversary; but number 25, the quarter century mark. YES, not 134, but 25. Remember those two digits discussed with the five word sentence given in earlier blog works, Mister Microsucks Hacker Diseascum, “IT IS WHAT IT IS”? Now we are about to fucking embark on a real journey of true Jamaican exploration. Remember this folks, the 134 was left by removing the second word, and the fifth word, to form the name of ISIS. So IT WHAT IT makes 134, while ISIS makes 25. It was 25 years to the day of the moon landing where for the first time ever, man walked on the moon, right to this day, I bought a what car, on the advice of so-called car expert, David Roth, my pal? Yeah, a SATURN CAR, problems with that, Stephanie comic Mills? Another car was discussed by government agents or TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS for all I know, back at 134 Norris Avenue in Atco, in 1983, when they were connecting a bug device into my telephone line, under orders of the National Security Agency. Cars are modes of transportation, so are rocket ships to the moon. All things connect up for one powerful reason. What you think of as things and events, and all of that; is really a cosmic digit. The entire universe is finite and computable. Still, that is not the subject for today's little discourse and debate. Most of you know that th every first time that I took a time trip with Nick Cannon, when he was only 16 years old in 1996, as Morianity was being written; and that just before this time, his wife's step father or real father to the world public knowledge, had come to visit with me on numerous occasions at the Haddonwood Health Club swimming pool. He only told me he was a cousin, never any other relationship. He did not bring up the subject either, I did, as we all know MC has the voice of a choir of angels all put together, and I had mentioned how amazingly talented that she is, during the course of a routine conversation in the swimming pool, as somehow, and don't ask me how please; the topic of music, and what kids today are listening to; all came up. This lace is just a mile down the road from the psychic shop where after we no longer were in contact, Nick took a mallet to one of my hubcaps, while I was inside the shop getting a tarot card reading, by a gentleman named Steve. I also had been there previously and got a reading from a girl named Sherry. This all gets super complicated, and we have years to get into tall of the particulars. Time is of the essence right now, as I am tired and need to go off to sleep. Bob McDowell, the 'space-bar hack' is real bad right now, kind sir, and old pal!!!!!










Now there are two remunerative amounts that are powerful in all of this Morianity, one is 17 thousand dollars, the other is 42 thousand dollars. I will not tell you any details about either of these money amounts directly right now, but what I will do folks, is tell you something that maybe your minds might by now be willing to connect some dots up, so remember how to properly gaze at a faint star in the night sky, as I aid, it is better not to stare at it directly, but rather to look just off of it, and you will see it much better that way, so I will be applying this same technique in my writing of this information. I am going to begin by merely talking a lot of things all around this. I also must backtrack and remind viewers and tell new ones if any, how as a young child of around the first grade give or take, I had children come to me who were not from this world, and strike up conversations. One day I actually came to learn that the child I had spoken to had died in a drowning accident about a year ago, and I put it out of my small young mind, as then, this made no sense to me, how can I be talking to dead children at playgrounds? But that was around 1962 and up ahead in time by 13 years, at the age of twenty and a half years; I was applying for a job, and the details are totally unimportant. When it was time to leave, I was in a hurry to get home, and there was a large ladder that people were all using, bolted down to the structure for safety, and no other way in or out was available for use at this time due to some kind of construction that was going on. When I tried to leave and go down the ladder from a tall second story of a restaurant along a famous highway in New Jersey and in a very historic well known town called Haddonfield, where I also went several years to special-ed school there; but as I tried to leave and got onto this ladder to go down, several extremely ravishing fashion model looking teenage girls were intentionally in my way and not moving, trapping me up on top, and I did not feel like dealing with these silly giddy young kids of about 3 years or so my junior, and I took one huge leap off of the ladder. But instead of landing fast and hard onto the grassy yard below, I went down very slowly like an elevator and made an easy perfect touch down, from about 18 feet in the air. I was always a good jumper and enjoyed jumping from high places, but never before this time in 1975 did I fall at a speed not normal for Earths basic average gravity fields. Now all of these thing connect, but you will need to give me time. Long before I knew what resulted from my encounter with Exploratron Paula King to use her Atlantic City street name in the late sixties; Nick began to damage my property such as th e?June of 1996 incident, and then began to come into my dreams to use mortal lingo here, and take me on special weird surreal trips that were so vivid I could feel things like hot and cold and many other things. He took me first to the past, then later, to the future. One trip was not that far away in time, and another was, in fact it was before he was born by a dozen years. Talk about monster weird, r just Disney Monster. This is Mack Kaiter Ridiculous, or MKR as I shorten this to from time to time. This was a camp counselor of mine at Camp Chesapeake in Northeast Maryland, where I went two weeks in July of 1967 and again for 2 weeks in July of 1968. I was always saying to him, “This is ridiculous, and the other kids thought it amusing and began teasing me about it as kids do, nothing out of the ordinary. From 1975 through 1981, amazing and unbloggable events happened to me that my many long blogs merely have touched a tiny bit on, here and there. But I will be telling a lions share of fucking shit as the next weeks tick on by. Count on it. This endless persecution of me to keep that mother fucking Dow Jones endlessly climbing up at my expense, is either going to stop, or all of NYC is going to be swallowed up by a giant fucking tidal wave, and that is a promise, Shorty 1983 MacInvondi Trump! Here goes the (`~) HACK, again, FCC, Bob McDowell, and the space bar and CAPS HACK and all of it is acting up worse and mother fucking worse all the mother fucking time, old buddy, in total violation of my civil, human, and constitutional rights as a free United States legal citizen, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If I could get my mother fucking hands on all of you jerk off mother fuckers doing all of this to me, you would be restrained by ropes while I slowly kill your families, and then abnd only then, would I begin to slowly mother fucking torture you to an agonizing and excruciating death!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So whatever you fucking do, don't ever let me find out just who you all are, mother fucking pricks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hay, I'm just being honest and telling these jerk offs the truth, or 'WHATEVER'; Congressman; old pal from 1975, house painting, band practice, and night flying in total secret!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!














FEBRUARY 2, 2016,



TUESDAY MORNING AT 7:55,



HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.



CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS 59 DEGREES FNHT.



RANGE TODAY-------(H-62/L-59). PREDICTED HIGH IS 82.



RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS 100%, AND WIND CHILL IS 58 .



WIND IS N AND BELOW MEASURABLE.



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























































Para-llel universes, Copyrighted registration certificate-PAU000204015, Paula, Patricia, and more (PA) stuff; is all topic for expanded ESS data at a future time, kind people. Again, “We can always get back to this”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The topic of ESS (Exploratronic Supermind Society) is quite intricate and complex. Also there is PA as in PUBLIC ADDRESS, PA as in Carlisle, Pennsylvania (PA) where ADA Wirtz told me that I would find all my answers, regarding my persecution, ever since leaving high school, in January of 1973. Then comes the really ultimate original Latin-PA-root. I mean who doesn't know about PATRICIDE, from killing ones father?


































Image result for sheriff ken j. mascaraMy PhotoAttorney General of Florida, Pam Bondi















END TRANSMISSION.

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