MARK
WAYNE MOHR, MOUNTAINPEN,
(THE BOM)
REAL
REAL FUNNY, OLD 1971 BUDDY, MISTER MIKE MCNULTY!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
BLOGS----OF----MOUNTAINPEN
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
BLOG
30 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
''GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS'' CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN
MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
HO-HO-HO AND A
BARREL OF MISTER CLAUSES FROM ALL POLARITIES, NOT JUST THE NORTHERN
ONES.
About Me
MARK
WAYNE MOHR, (MOUNTAINPEN)
- theansweristheqyuestion
- 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.
(GRANDSON
OF GRACE ISABELE HUNTINGTON)
SEPTEMBER
19, 2018,
WEDNESDAY
EVENING, AT 7:40,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 85 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 72%, AND THE
HEAT
INDEX IS 93 DEGREES.
WIND
IS ESE AT 10, AND GUSTING TO 14.
RAINFALL
TODAY IS 0.
Before I get a bit
into TSE (Towel-Seepage-Effect) my kind folks and peps and peeps; I
got up around ten minutes shy of five this evening, and was
immediately struck or had been while asleep, kind Sheriff Ken Mascara
sir, by a MAJOR DEATH RAY ASSAULT ON MY BODY WITH THE BOWELS. A super
subsonic beam is somehow transmitted right to my body, and this has
been going on and being done to me kind Sheriff sir,ever since the
summer time in the year of mother *******
1986!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I did not make it to the bathroom
toilet, and had to end up cleaning my carpet in three different
spots. I am a grown man with no diagnosable medical condition, nor
have I been these past thirty-two plus years with these death attacks
on me, kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I felt that I had to tell you about
this horrendous mother ******* assault on my poor elderly pathetic
puny defenseless decrepit body. I am not sick enough after an entire
adult lifetime of these brutal evil Satanic monsters assaulting me
continuously. They have to make things worse and worse and worse for
me, kind friend. I am one angry son of a bitch right about now.
They're all very lucky they are not alone with me on some deserted
island and with me holding a nice big magnum!!!!
Well,
my STUDDER-TONE has been repaired, and put back onto my Comcast
Voice-Mail telephone account system. THANK
YOU COMCAST,
YO! WHEN THESE TYPE OF UTILITY ASSAULTS STRIKE ME HOWEVER, KIND
SHERIFF MASCARA SIR, THIS IS HOW I KNOW HOW BAD THAT **** IS FOR ME,
AND IS ALSO WHEN I BEGIN TO PICK UP THESE TOTAL MOTHER *******
DEATH-RAY PUMMELINGS ON MY POOR OLD PHYSICAL DYING BODY, KIND
SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Life
in waking world's physical so-called reality contains multiplexes of
tricks to our senses that are called by many folks, ILLUSIONS. I went
past all of these illusions when I
came to suddenly realize one day that such a thing as the 'TOWEL
SEEPAGE
EFFECT',
is the proof that Morianity is the best explanation at least so far,
to explain all of the mysteries behind these endlessly unknown
things. Towel
Seepage Effect
is the way that events and situations in one universe, and even in
one time; can absolutely effect the way that things are, in the world
where we live, and conduct our business, and our life. Soon,
MORIANITY
will tell huge
stories,
and here are a just a few teeny-tiny tidbit smatterings
of these closet filled horror tales straight out of the gates of
damnation's and DOGTOWN hellfire, kind ladies and gentlemen!!!!!
Mouse
hacks are also very bad tonight, SHERIFF, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!
Only
a very few people on this planet
understand and know,
the tiniest portions of just how my music, and my © Copyrighted
musical projects, over the past forty-three years since 1975; are all
part of and directly connected to so many things all over the world,
but more than this by an unfathomable and a totally unequivocal
long-shot, PART
OF MANY THINGS THAT ARE ABSOLUTELY GOING ON IN PARALLEL UNIVERSES
that surround this one, accessible only to us, through our dreams!
Once major outlandish incident in all of this, is my medical
condition that came upon me on the fourth day of the month of June,
back in the year of 1983, kind folks, and kind Sheriff Mascara, sir!
An inaudible voice came inside of my head somewhere in the mid-autumn
of the year of 1982. It said to me over and over again, “JUST
WAIT 'TILL THE FOURTH DAY OF NEXT JUNE”.
I dismissed it as 'Satanic Teasing'. I was still friends with a
religious fanatic fellow, whom I had met at a computer school at the
Cherry Hill Mall, the Number 1 Building and Suite 200, where I
studied Computer Programming. The name of this dude was Mister James
Tiberius Burr, and this was back in the late spring time, or the
early summer time, back in 1973. He was one of those
seventies-holy-rollers
with a real passion for SATAN being behind everything bad, from a
sore throat to hiccups
for crying out loud! Still, this was a very weird, to say the very
least, thing to keep hearing over and over again, inside my head, as
a thought. I never ever hear the 'audible voices', so technically I
know that I am not a schizophrenic, or someone with any of those type
of psychiatric conditions. But
my true story of MORIANITY,
keeps the feds paying me disability, and does indeed quite honestly
prevent me from securing, and maintaining, any type of gainful
employment; leaving me at best, someone able to only have part time
positions, and especially jobs where human contact is at a bare bones
total freaking minimum, YO! But
keeping this on point folks, with my hearing this WARNING-VOICE about
the fourth day of the upcoming June month, while I was in my final
days of living at the quite magical apartment of 1802 Robin Hill,
in Voorhees, New Jersey, USAESMWG; I wasn't scared or anything, and
was used to 'the
devil' or HALLS-FAWCES, messing and screwing with me,
all the way to the time when I was visiting my mom at her Media,
Pennsylvania apartment; and was literally
carried out of body,
the moment that I had fallen asleep, and thrown in my
spirit, or 'energy-true-me' persona,
up onto a high mounter wall-AC unit. I was also spoken to in another
huge way, while employed at the
famous Philadelphia hotel, the Bellevue Stratford.
I was told about the famous Legionnaire's
Disease,
sixty days or less before it actually happened, and from a bathroom
stall, where I was taking a ****, on a lunch break; working as a
hotel Wall-Washer! So none
of this was new to me,
you know, Halls
Fawces
doing their sick twisted thing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This same voice told
me that there is a magical warp in the fabric of reality in three
places, Atlantic
City
where the old Mayflower Hotel stood until it was bulldozed back in
1983, on Tennessee Avenue, The Coaches Locker-Room at the Cooley Hall
where I was going to my special education school until graduating in
January of 1973, in Haddonfield, New Jersey, on where else but on
KINGS
HIGHWAY,
and finally to complete this covert triangle, at the recording plant
where I had been employed from late in July of 1979 through the
eleventh day of March in 1981, on State Street and Pierce Avenue, up
in Camden, New Jersey. This magic area was a particular spot up in
the attic where a whole bunch of vinyl record albums had been stored
for a dozen years or so, and were about to be tossed into the
garbage. One day I bought a very expensive turn-table and then
realized I had nothing to play. I had thrown out or given away all of
my old 33 and 45 records. Our printer, Mike Walters, at this RPL
Sound Studio, told me that night after I had just informed him that I
had nothing to play and wondered why I had suddenly 'been almost led'
to buying this fantastic turn-table costing three hundred clams, he
said to me, “Hey Mark, go up to the attic and take that large
'overage pile' of 33 record albums, as they're gonna' be thrown out
in a couple of days”. I went up on my lunch break, took them, and
brought them to my parked car outside of the plant. When I got almost
home, some nut case pulled out in front of me making me slam on my
breaks, sending these huge piles of records that I should have placed
in some type of a box but never did, and they went all over the place
on the floor of the passenger side front seat of my 1978 Chevy Nova
Automobile, all totally out of the packed order that I had placed
them in. When I arrived home at 1802
Robin Hill
that middle late 1980
October, the first two records on the 'new pile' were unknown
works of Richard and Karen Carpenter,
as well as the great
Disco Diva Mizz Donna Adrian Gaines Summer,
back when she was in Munich, Germany in her late teens, doing some
off
the wall version of the 'HAIR' play on Broadway, NYC
at the time, late in the nineteen-sixties. All of these things later
went onto connect into things that would literally take me years
to discuss and properly explain to any real serious seekers of truth,
you know; why are we here, where are we going, and just who the damn
hell are we REALLY?????? Now normally, these endless quests to truth
are limited to three or maybe four dimensions, you know, time
included, but confined still to one reality or (universe) of our
existence. BUTTTTTT kind folks, NOW WE MOVE QUITE LITERALLY IUNTO THE
5TH DIMENSION, or did I say the Marilyn 5-D McCoo Dimension??????
WOW is this the epitome of the Joanna Syndrome here, kind folks, and
kind Sheriff Mascara, oh great sir???????????????????? Just when am I
truly supposed to stop seeing all of this as just a mere coincidence;
oh great and mighty psychiatric professional gods out there, YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO??????????! Still, back on point here, this voice
told me after I no longer was working at the RPL Sound Studio Lab in
Camden, NJUSAESMWG, that I was really in for some kind of nasty ***
situation, on the coming JUNE, or on 06/04/1983. Well, at 10:30 Post
Meridian on that night, I began to not be able to clear my throat.
This led me to a horrible nightmare mother ******* medical condition
that I still am living with today. The mighty Pam Slut Bondi and her
Republican dirt bag pals up there at the State Crapitol, made it far
worse back around 2014, cutting my only medication that ever allowed
me to function half well, almost totally off, ATIVAN, now basically
its far less expensive generic brand is used, called, Lorazepam.
Still, the voice never told me how really awful and horrific this
would be when it rolled around about eight months from the time I was
given the message. To quote my Lab-Technician daughter, from the
great multiverse, or 'whatever', when I got that message, “it was
indeed too late”. But this same voice told me while I still lived
at 1802
Robin Hill
Apartments, just one and a half years or so from my final days
working at the RPL Studio, that
this was going to happen.
This was just two months before I had purchased the PRIVECODE MACHINE
from the now INTERDIGITAL CORPORATION and then called the IMM
(INTERNATIONAL MOBILE MACHINES) CORPORATION. Now this voice told me
that at precisely eight minutes before three o'clock in the morning,
every day, up at that spot where those overage-file records had been
stored in piles for a solid dozen years, “GETS HOT”. By getting
hot, it meant that at this time, if someone were to be right there
and nobody ever was in the attic at two or three A.M., but if; they
would be wormhole transported to one of the two other spots,
one as stated previously, being Cooley Hall, just passed a secret
wall behind the Coaches-Office in the school gymnasium, and the other
was on the top floor, in some Janitor-Closet, at
what once was the
Mayflower
Hotel, on Tennessee Avenue,
in Atlantic City. Then I, shortly after hearing this voice say this
to me from my bedroom at 1802 Robin Hill, in Voorhees, New Jersey;
remembered
how as a boy of just fifteen years,
and right around the very same time that I
was given that powerful dream
by PAULA
FAWCES KING,
where she took
my chain away from me,
and all that time I had believed this to be Sarah Krassle,
yes I would be transported to one of those other two spots through
what was told to me in the late 1969 dream, and called
“Distance-Elimination”, and was even explained to me by some
weird professor, who until very recently, I had forgotten and thought
that my first encounter with this wild Plankatory School Teacher, was
in the year 1976, while sharing a place with my father, in Clementon,
New Jersey, on Route 30 (White Horse Pike), called the Carriage Lamp
Apartments, and get this, later for reasons that absolutely elude me
then and now, renamed the “NEW
YORK APARTMENTS”!!!!
Some things go beyond unfathomable and beyond logical comprehension,
as to why all things indeed really do connect up, to tell one
gigantic true and fully accurate 5th
dimensional cosmic story, AKA
the absolute TRUTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But this voice told me that at 2:52 every morning, and lasting for
approximately 45 seconds; this warp between areas, that was build by
what I now label and term (HALLS-FAWCES), does indeed GET
HOT,
or maybe said a bit more accurately, it activates. Why? How the damn
Dogtown am I supposed to know. Maybe
you should ask a security officer named HALL!
TSE is my best explanation and response to anyone's queries on the
matter. Sure, I can be wrong. I don't believe that I am, not after
all of the bull**** that I have suffered through with all of this for
so many years and decades now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But are we forgetting
something here, kind folks? Those pesky four digits of 1---8---0---2.
Sure, you may think it is a stretch, but it is the 'after-2'
hour, and 2:52
is '8'
MINUTES BEFORE THREE OF THE CLOCK, still, that 8,
and the two
hour, they are still both in the equation, are they not kind people?
Ignore it, laugh at me, or take it the way I do, it's your choice. I
know I'm not goddamn nuts, as this all, and to
quote Jim Burr from the 1975 year
while I was residing at 1118 Linden Hill Apartments, in Lindenwold,
New Jersey, “IS
ACTUALLY LITERALLY HAPPENING TO ME”!
But this only opens up the great OZ CURTAINS of PANDORA'S GREAT
SCAREY BOX, kind BLOGAUD! It just opens this **** up a tiny teeny
whittle crack. How about my Chief Recording Engineer Mister Howard
Solomon, from the RPL Sound Studios who in 1983 left both his job
there, and his Levittown, Pennsylvania home, and moved down here into
this lovely hot area, just a wee bit up north from me right now, in
Orlando, Florida, USAESMWG. And then there is the great THROAT
SPECIALIST and his super secret lab-tech assistant ESS-TRAVELER. How
I wish the great Patty-H. Never had brought that damn magical
FASCITAR into my dam life, lads and lassies!!!!!!!!!! Pam Bondi and
her sicko pals may have brought the dosage reduction conversation
into total fruition, but a lot more is going on here than just her
bird brain blondie junk! I know the United States © Office to this
damn day is still wondering about it all. Hey, move over Great
Library Of Congress Copyright Office. I am still wondering about it
all myself. THE PERMISSION BARRIER, and Ron Wirtz Senior of the great
Camden County, New Jersey Prosecutor's Office, WOW THAT JOANNA. He
said to me one day back in the middle damn nineteen-nineties, and I
quote, “I don't know exactly what is happening around you Mark, not
even with THE PERMISSION BARRIER”. You see, lads and lassies, I'd
just given him this book, that I recently had written and sent down
to the © Office for Copyright, and shortly after he had read it, he
made that statement to me over the telephone, while I was residing at
the great HIGHVIEW APARTMENTS, in WILLIAMSTOWN-GWPOS, NEW JERSEY,
USA, EARTH, SOL, MILKY WAY GALAXY (NJUSAESMWG)!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why
is it that even over at mighty BonJovi's place, I was given a
friendly warning about the opening part of Merry's driving
instructions.
Hey, I can only tell the world what has happened, and all I am able
to ever really and truly do after that is to offer a
fifth-dimensional explanation for all of this. Nothing in 3-D or even
4-D space can explain it. Everyone from the damn east to the damn
west knows it, too, kind peeps! I'll
always remember early in 1984, how the doctor himself told my mom
over the phone,
while she was at her office at the Lavino Shipping Company of
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USAESMWG, now after the buy out some time
back, called the Inchcape
Shipping Company;
“I don't think that's his problem, Misses Mohr”. She had called
because I was very ill and not getting better, and if you have to
know, then I'll be straight with you all. I totally believe that I
died, and went into HELL. I am the CHOSEN HUNTINGTON, and must remain
here to suffer until the next person in my family is chosen, and in
1983 and 1984, this had not yet been done. This much I almost fully
know with accuracy. I will tell more after I have been able to
confirm freaking more, kind folks! Still, what did the dock mean by
(MY PROBLEM). Well, the shrinks all think he was referring to my
illness just being all in my head, and you or anyone else for that
matter, are of course all “ENTITLED
TO YOUR OPINIONS”,
along with the mighty RPL CO-WORKER of mine, Mizz
Mashell Daniels
from 1980!!!!!!!!!!!!
I promise you all this
was NOT WHAT THE DOCK WAS TALKING ABOUT
WITH MY MOM!!!!!!!!!!!! You
can all take that straight to the T.D.
Choir Preaching Bank of poor threatened Regis Philbin.
I am scared to death of Paula too, poor old pal. Just ask the TD
Ameritrade peeps if I did not predict a 5,000 point jump in the Dow
Jones (DJIA). Go ahead and ask them. I did. And then it did.
This all happened right after the time these blogs had to end for a
whittle while, YO kind folks, peps, lads, lassies, and peeps!Let's
quickly discuss THE MISSING. Just how many people have totally
forever gone missing, and forget the damn Bermuda Triangle, just
normal folks not out on the water, but bang, suddenly gone forever?
Just how many? Only a handful tiny percentage are the Elizabeth
Smart's of the world! I may go missing shortly myself, KIND
SHERIFF MASCARA.
I truly hope that you do your best job, and have you and your
wonderful great deputies, KEEP
AN EYE OUT FOR ME ALL THE TIME!!!!!!!!!!
Please just watch me as best as you can. I really don't think you
need to be told that I
am in grave freaking danger, kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!
How
about that gorgeous little girl that I used to run into all the time,
all those summers in late June and middle late August, on Tennessee
Avenue, in Atlantic City, NJUSAESMWG?
Just
where really, was SARAH? Where was she, Sheriff Mascara sir, because
I don't know.
They had me all 'F' up and believing the Sarah I was searching for
was Callio. IT WASN'T, kind sir. It never was about Sarah freaking
Callio!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I promise you that one, kind
sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She was very real. She was there. But
all of the locals everywhere during my extensive and tedious search
and quest to find her or even any small thing about her, every bit of
all of it was totally gone, missing, zero, forever. I do not buy into
this mother ******* bull**** for one goddamn nano minute, kind
Sheriff, kind Fort Pierce Police Department, kind Atlantic City
Police Department, kind New Jersey State Police Force, NOT FOR ONE
DAMN MINUTE!!!!! All of this connects into huge huge mother *******
**** that is so wild and incredible that only HALLS FAWCES could be a
part of crap like this, sir Sheriff! Then there is a goddamn LIFETIME
OF DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES such as the one right before I got up today.
I was back on the beach and right outside of PAULA FAWCES KING'S ALL
MIGHTY WAYV RADIO STATION. Paula King had not bothered me from July
12, 1970 on that late night bus, at 10:30 P.M., just like my choking
time, you know, 10:30 P.M. On June 4, 1983, but no it was before that
when she began to haunt me, just one week into my moving into goddamn
1802 Robin Hill Apartments, and she gave me that wild unfathomable
incredible inconceivable interaction, where she was right there on
that 10-SC Avenue on-ramp to the boardwalk, right there outside
of the Frailenger's Salt Water Taffy Store, and directly adjacent to
her WAYV-FM-Radio Station.
She was singing that extremely haunting song to me, “LOVE
IS FOR CARPENTERS”,
that I have labeled for a shortened abbreviation, LOIS
FOCA!
My mom's co-worker, Patty-H was a total trip, back in the early
nineteen seventies. Now she had been around since 1969, and they
worked closely together from about 1971 through 1979. She
looked exactly like the folk singer, Melanie Safka, and sounded a lot
like her also.
I often wonder if they are not really one and the same, you know,
like Kent and Superman. What a trip all that was, but if you think it
ends here, or the story does; then you are light years away from
freaking knowing the truths behind all
of this Bob Gagnus bull**** stuff,
to quote the older Philadelphian's. Here we go again, lovely Joanna,
or both Joanna's perhaps, Studio Joanna without the 'A', or hooker J.
WEEEE.
I
know that my life is followed by the movers and shakers of this
world.
When I would watch the greatest law show ever on the air, after the
cable people had the technology to put dates and the whole ball of
wax on the margins of the screens, I could see plainer than damn day
how my entire life is one big open book to these World-Owners,
AKA the WOMO, hmm,
WO, I'll try not to chase anyone around, cats or daughters. I have
some pwetty good software to bleep out by bad lingo also,
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
Just
how many people really do GO
MISSING
year in and year old, like SARAH
seemingly has done; my kind world, or unkind world? When
Patty wanted me to get HER POWERFUL FASCITAR information,
she did not teach it to me, as she did the
great NEO-HO CHANT.
She was way more clever. BUTTTTTTTTTTT, shortly after she made sure
that I received the FASCITAR, along came the mighty and mysterious
Atlantic City Beach Alchemist. He taught me the great and powerful
'LAW of 1'. This went onto lead me into things that are so dark and
frightening that it is too close to bed time to even think of
discussing them right now, my kind folks. My mom was hellbent on my
attending a private school in Pennsylvania, known as the Church Farm
School. For reasons that elude me 100%+, the great Donna Summer has
seemingly, before her dying days from smoking and lung cancer,
commingled herself with the place. Maybe it was her family, I don't
have all my data and thus I'm not privy to all of the needed
information that allow me to discu8ss this further with any real
accuracy. Still, I know what I know, and I know that this place was
all part of this interconnected nightmare that is to quote
Cuzz-Donald from very long ago, “The story of my life”!!!!!!!!!!!
Yea right, Don! Wake up Maggie May Stuart, and clear your throat.
Give me a break Margie 1985 Leo, pweeeeeeeeeze, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TANKS! Last night I was listening to a police officer on the Atlantic
City boardwalk in this parallel universe where a huge thunderstorm
had just kicked up out of nowhere after a very warm and sunny day on
the beach, and it was just about the time that the sun had gone down
yet it was not black dark yet. He was saying some wild stuff to a
couple of tourists that were sitting on a bench on the boards. It had
to do with a romance, and I knew who he was talking about, or should
I say that 'the me over in that universe', knew who this was who he
was referring to. If I were to tell more here, it would have to be to
my local County Sheriff, Mister KJM. Without protection, I am way too
scared of Paula King to want to get anywhere near this evil and
frightening witch, gorgeous as she may be. If she hated me so much,
and thought that I was so **** huffing ugly that night, when she and
her gang of girlfriends were on the same bus that I was on when I was
escaping the child molester, Mister Thomas J. Reale, of Ventnor,
NJUSAESMWG; why then did she give that 1980 LOIS FOCA nightmare that
changed my entire life? Why again on the very same date in 1997, July
the 12th,
exactly 27 years after we had last encountered each other, did she
make sure that she was right there outside of Robert McGuire's bar on
10SC Avenue, and do all sorts of zillions of her damn magic tricks to
get me there so I'd freaking see her as I drove past, why Sheriff
KJM, why? All I know is that she and McGuire have totally ruined and
wrecked and destroyed my entire mother ******* life. They have
assaulted me, tried to run me down at a Walmart Store Parking Lot in
Washington Township, NJUSAESMWG, and she came over in 1996 in middle
late June, and she raped me AGAIN. Sam the Maintenance man of
Highview Apartments later said to me, and I am quoting him, kind
Sheriff Mascara sir, “Who's your goddess girlfriend, Mark”? I
couldn't make all of this stuff up if I was being paid millions of
goddamn ******* dollars to try and do it, Sheriff, sir. I honestly
couldn't make this damn **** up!!!! Hey Sheriff, sir; just why did
Mister T.J. Reale answer my damn advertisement in the Atlantic City
Press early in the year of 1970, in the 'situations wanted' section?
I was trying to work as an assistant so that I could live down there
and enjoy the summer time and the beach, you know. These were
different days, Sheriff, and being my damn age sir, I know that you
know what I am talking about. I wasn't a typical skirt chasing
teenaged boy and my mom knew that, and so she trusted me to go down
to the damn shore for the summer. She met him when he answered the ad
and he fooled her. He
was a chill-mo as they call these peeps today.
I always think of these horrible days when I get your phone calls
Sheriff, when you tell me how some dirt bag chill-mo has moved close
to my area. Thank
you for those informative calls,
as it is nice to know what I am dealing with and be cautious, even
though my daughter is long grown, and will be in her fifties in about
another year and a half. Still, the future Water-Works in Atlantic
City, where this horrible Callio family are a part of, kind sir;
bought
the very property where this evil man raped me twice, in that house
of horrors.
And then on top of that, the aunt of Frank and Sarah, Mizz Victoria
Callio, was dating Thomas J. Reale. She used to tell me all the time,
during my nineteen day stay there, at that nightmare hellhole, and I
quote, “Mark, you have such gorgeous hair”. Yeah here we go
again, we cannot escape that beautiful or gorgeous HAIR syndrome, but
even more sinister as far as magical cosmic connections to all of
this nightmare actually goes, the entire mess seemed to all be
connected. Do I truly believe sir Sheriff, that Patty and Melanie,
and Paula, are one person. Of course not. But do I believe that in a
parallel universe somewhere in all of the infinite number of them,
has one powerful woman who is able to perform these tricks by using
something that MORIANITY
refers to as EXPLORATRONICS;
well, YOU BET THAT I DO KIND SHERIFF, SIR. YOU CAN BET ON IT. Kind
sir, no one knows why we sleep and dream. Don't let the doctors or
any other so-called 'experts' try and lie to you Sheriff, sir, and
all other BLOGAUDIANS out here!!!! I know for a fact that there
really is a magical and totally unfathomable secret society, that my
MORIANITY calls the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY, is behind all of
these unexplainable miracles, all of them. This is where all of our
world's religions come from, even CHRISTIANITY. Anyone unable to see
this basic truth, is as my daughter would say, “a freaking
dinosaur”! But speaking of my daughter the great mysterious
Lab-Tech at the Throat Specialist's Office, back that day in 1984; is
she one of them? Did Mommy-Patty teach her how to join the ESS,
Sheriff Mascara, sir?????????????? Think and ponder on this one for a
darn second, and you too Mister Tony BonJovi, and Mister Ryan! There
is a logical reason for anything and everything that ever happens.
Unfortunately most people think that this explanation is mental
illness. This is merely a visible clue. When
people write and say such things as Morianity does, the mental
illness books say that we are crazy and nuts.
'BUTTTTTTTT
are we'; Mister George Burns and Mister John Denver and little
Tracy?????
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!
ENDocrinologists
AND END TRANSMISSION.
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