BLOG
35 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
''GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS'' CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN
MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
SEPTEMBER
26, 2018,
WEDNESDAY
MORNING AT 3:52,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 77 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
OF TEMPS TODAY, H-78/L-77.
HUMIDITY
IS 96%, HEAT INDEX IS 83 DGFT.
WIND
IS 0, AND GUSTING SE TO 4.
RAINFUL
IS 010 CENTI-INCHES TODAY.
About
a half hour or so after posting up my previous blog, my
beautiful BABY-BLOND or Lightning Goddess Diana Z. Arteemis,
came over to visit with me. I love her so much. Her moon is here with
me also, so bright and full and beyond lovely. I would do anything in
this world for her! Obviously she worries about her little boy here
in this waking world dream-down off of the Plankatory.
If
only I were free to tell you all a whole damn lot more, but it would
be very risky, I promise you. No one believes me, no one is offering
me any real world protection from HALLS
FAWCES,
which are AKA the WOMO-MILITUFAWCES.
I can give you some more powerful but general information on Patty's
FASCITAR,
and even PATTY
for that matter, or as I
have come to hyphenate
this in more recent times; Patty-Paula.
I can give a lot of information on why our 'true
beingness' and endless awareness (SOUL),
travels around to places both in
the hyperspace,
as well as even the occasional
trips back into the Plankatory.
I can even to some degree, safely blog why and even how, or the basic
mechanics behind the singularity blowing out into PLANK-TIME, and
then beyond that into our so-called present-time nuclear universe.
BUTTTTTT, I cannot be absolutely specific. There are many limits and
red lines that I have BEEN TOLD in various covert ways, that I better
not ever cross, at least not unless I wish to suffer the damn dire
consequences, YO!
Morty
Mortino the Death-Angel
is striking and passing me on my left freaking side at 4:07 on this
middle predawn Wednesday morning. I am suffering through major
attacks of his scanning my position, not that it is ever light, not
since the nineties starting really rolling freaking in, kind folks
YO!
About Me
MARK
WAYNE MOHR, (MOUNTAINPEN)
GRANDSON
OF GRACE ISABEL HUNTINGTON
- 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.
-
No
folks, I am not the Death-Angel, but just some poor slob who he
visits with continuous regularity. JEEEEZE Louise, Detective Fontana,
sir! Oh yes, try as I may, Halls Fawces keep me down and out, and
very obscure. STILL Mister Late Brisco sir, the Russians seem to love
me, at least a little bit. WEEEEE, I'm doing something right, huh
CUZZ DON????????????????
|
|
|
Global Audience In Shade Ratio Popularity: |
SO
WHY AM I POPULAR IN THESE GREAT COUNTRIES? I THINK WE ALL KNOW THAT
MY WORDS ARE TRUE. I KNOW THAT HALLS FAWCES SURE KNOW
IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gee Wiligars folks, I will let my old ex-pal from
New Jersey, say his somewhat famous quote 'Thankx to Morianity', and
not the damn 'shadows', huh U. S. © Office????????????
''AND
THAT'S JUST REALITY SON”.
Yes
indeed; our
real true beingness is not confined to dimension,
be it length of space, width of space, depth of space, length of
time, or hyperspace itself that contains virtually limitless numbers
of universes, with all of their
own unique Space-Time-Mind systems.
Why our 'spirit' TRUE-SELF
moves around, is almost like saying why
does the wind blow?
It does, both of them, one blows and one moves, well wind moves too
as it blows. We feel it, and we can indeed directly perceive the
evidence of it also, when watching anything from the very smallest
debris to the largest items flying all about in a damn hurricane. So
in essence, things tend to move. Our true self moves even when our
bodies sleep, and even when they stop moving forever. WEEEEEEEEE!
Still, the real why is not so complicated. Put anything in a maze. It
may be a cat or a cockroach. It could be a small toddler or a fully
grown person. If we were to suddenly awaken to find ourselves
seemingly stuck inside some weird bizarre maze, WE
WOULD MOVE ALL AROUND and try to find out what is going on.
Again, to quote Dennis Snyder, “That's just reality, son”. Also,
AGAIN, the DEATH-ANGEL is passing by my left side at 4:38 Ante'
Meridian. We can go on and on with lots of boring text, but I would
rather do tiny little bits at a time, and move on right now to a
slightly bigger truth that I totally know that HALLS FAWCES DO NOT
WANT ME TO TALK ABOUT, so since they have been on me all damn year
extra damn hard without let up or mercy; HERE WE GO,
FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!!
When
I used to keep a life journal, I would keep a tape recorder in my
house, and also, one would be in my car. Every part of my life was
recorded. This seemed to cause some very weird things to happen,
which also happened to me when I played around with these type of
things, MUSICALLY. On top of that however, I began to see in more
recent times, that anything electronic, and I mean ANYTHING, even
typing words on an office document computer system such as this blog
right now, the very same HALLS-FAWCES will always come into play, but
it takes lots of time and careful study to really begin seeing past a
whole damn lot of rotten illusions. For example, when I would cut and
paste something about my hammering nabes, BOOM, it would start up
again in the new real time that I was capping in the message. After
more study, I saw another reality that followed me, in audio as well
as literate journal keeping. ONLY
NEGATIVE STUFF seemed to work with this pinpoint damn accuracy.
BUTTTTTT,
don't quit on me yet, world. It gets better.
For decades and decades, I began to see that this Huntington Curse
was real, no matter how many mother ******* people insisted that this
was total and utter nonsense. If nothing can ever work positively,
and can only move in one polar direction, this goes even against the
entire grain of the universe and multiverse of all of
reality!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So then, what truly gives here, lads and
lassies? Well, I tried a really cool scientific experiment one day
not all that far back in time, maybe two years or even a tad bit
less. I began to create a worksheet where I would create characters
or even make some characters up out of thin air and whole cloth. Then
I would begin to do things in this worksheet, where each of them
would do things. I began with just playing paper-roulette games, but
later on, progressed to many other things. The exact mechanics of
this entire deal would take way to long to elucidate further details
on. Let me instead do what our great Lord Jesus did back when He
walked this Earth a couple of thousand years back, with
story-parables. If I
create FAKE-BLOGS that never post to any real media outlets,
and exist only in the world of cyber-electronics,
using made up names, I can in fact create some powerful things to
actually happen out of nowhere, but it must be things that pertain to
these fictional characters, (made-up-people-bloggers). Again and in
reiteration, getting real specific, would take too long, be quite
extensive and exhaustive, like an entire college education all
abridged and compressed into one fifty-thousand word super blog, that
would bore even hard core Morian readers to total tears, and waste
all of our time, yours and mine. But know this. Reality not only can
be, but absolutely IS EFFECTED by the world of electronics, and
especially IF
ONE KNOWS HOW THIS WORKS
as well as a few detailed particulars on WHY IT WORKS. Can this alter
the Huntington Curse, and allow me to break out of this endless
nightmare hell, you may now ask me? Well
people, this is sort of like the old SYFY TIME TRAVEL stories,
we all know and love. The most famous one probably will always be
Michael
Fox
and his Back
To The Future series.
First off, time has been manipulated by the use of EXPLORATRONICS
for thousands of years. Patty-H told me, that the ancient guru
mystics knew about these powerful and awesome secrets. I know that
she was totally correct. But can this H Curse be broken? Well, that
is like the example given in a fantastic
book written a couple of decades ago by the great New-Age author,
Doctor Bruce Goldberg.
Google it up, folks. I speak of one particular book that he wrote,
called “Time Travelers From Our Future”. What he was unable to
conceive however, was that this travel was a type of 'Dark
Shadows' I-Ching,
where the characters in that fantastic television show of the sixties
that ended early in April of 1971, went
into their I-CHING trances, and spiritually 'traveled' all around,
the past, the future, and to quote Rob Andrews from 1975,
“WHATEVER”!!!!!!!!!!! All
the things that Morianity and Mountainpen speak about are verifiable
by simply Googling,
and you all know that. Disprove anything that I ever say and lay
claim to, IF
YOU CAN
that is. Go right ahead. You won't hurt my little damn feelings one
teeny tiny tidbit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes,
without getting really specific, there are some things that indeed
can be shifted around, even by so-called tiny little powerless people
such as Mountainpen. Then to quote Doctor Goldberg, “There was
WWll, and that one made all of the newspapers”. Some damn hack in
my computer does not easily allow certain things to be typed, and
keeps trying to alter these things. If I insist, sometimes it comes
back later on and still freaking changes **** that I do not want
changed. These word and office programs that insist on certain
things, really sucks! I know what I am trying to say, and if this
damn gismo would just get lost and allow me to speak my mind, then
all this weird stupid crap that ends up getting posted and making me
look like a damn imbecile, would not be freaking happening, YO!
Yes,
to
some degree, all things are alterable, just not huge things,
and so I will tell another huge thing that will begin to expose the
secret covert society of spiritual travelers, that Morianity labels
the ESS, or the (EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND
SOCIETY)
and has done so since the very inception of my blogs in early 2006,
BRO! If you are not in the damn mood for a bit of a damn mind-blow,
lads and lassies, stop reading this blog, at least for right now. YOU
ARE NOT IMAGINING an event that most people have from time to time,
and doubtfully ever admit to or discuss with friends, or anyone close
to them; for fear of being completely freaking ostracized. Look
around a room in your residence,
be it a living room, or a dining room, or a bedroom. Be it in an
apartment, a home, a condo, or
to quote Congressman Rob Andrews again, from 1975, “whatever”!
You will really truly see something that you know very well, was not
there and should not just be there out of the blue. I don't care if
it is so tiny you need spectacles to view it. Normally it won't be
some large item, but I am not speaking of a sudden crack on a wall
that indeed will happen to any structure over a sufficient period of
time due to wear and tear and time's effects and ravishes over all
things. You know what I am talking about, kind folks, and I know that
you do. You keep these strange things to yourselves, but most of you
out there have things like this occur around you every so often, be
it as infrequent as once or twice per decade or perhaps once per
season, but it does happen. You know I am telling this to you
straight up, so deny it all you want to. Now, what is happening.
Well, a very quick answer with absolutely no elaborate detailed
lengthy and boring stories, is EXPLORATRONICS. I'll bet 95% minimum
of my Blogaudians, knew I was going to print that great word.
Remember anybody, how someone used this EXPLORATRONICS to even go
back and make that very word that I CREATED, and turn it into a more
used term so that the INTERNET-FAWCES, you know, Google and all of
these type of things, pick up on this other deal and not on
MORIANITY'S version of EXPLORATRONICS? If you don't know what is
being discussed here folks, you need to reread my old original first
two years of blogs, from 2006 and 2007!!!!!!! You know very well that
where there is smoke, there is fire, and that MORIANITY is telling a
very powerful and true story here, that indeed, THIS
ENTIRE PLANET
NEEDS TO BE AWARE OF.
Laugh all you want to if you really plan on remaining absolutely
stupid to the seventh damn power!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My
goal and mission is to EXPOSE
THE ESS
since quite obviously this is what HALLS-FAWCES or the
(WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES)
use as a source of virtually limitless power, against me, pathetic
wimpy helpless whittle MARK
WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN HUNTINGTON MOHR.
I would rather expose this enemy that has turned my entire mother
******* life upside down, and Diana Ross inside out, since late in
1954, when I arrived here on this Earth-Plane waking world, as the
current-me-persona; than have every single bill that the goddamn
United States Treasury has ever printed, and all of the gold in Fort
Knox to boot! Morty Mortino (Mister-Death) is passing by my goddamn
right side now, at 5:36 A.M. Boy oh boy oh boy, this bastard sure
loves to endlessly scan my position. So why doesn't he ever tap me on
either my left or my damn ass right shoulder, and set me free from
this HUNTINGTON MISERY? Well, most likely, no replacement in this
great and awesome damn family even to this date, has been found. That
is the only obvious and logical explanation for it, there simply is
no other one, kind folks, or maybe some unkind ones too! Who can ever
know, mister © Breath Echos? WHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!
BLOG
34 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
''GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS'' CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN
MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
You son of a gun. I
am not having fun at the old early middle seventies bayou, BUTTTT I
am sitting at my PC Work Station here, in blazing hot Fort Pierce,
Florida, U. S. A.
Ladies and
gentlemen, I went to the Publix Shopping Store yesterday, at Virginia
Avenue and Federal Highway U.S. 1. The day was uneventful for the
most part, but it is such an amazing thing. I live in the sunshine
state. Where are the BLONDS down here
in this wonderful Florida-USA?
Like
Boo. Where
art thou, all you lovely wonderful Blondie's?
AND
SPEAKING OF BEAUTIFUL BLONDS;
THANK
YOU beautiful LIGHTNING,
for coming around and visiting your little boy so very often this
summer of 2018. You were all around me when you saw all the hell that
I was going through, at the hands of this evil wicked demonic satanic
diabolical WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCE.
You are so
BEYOND
RED
WILD
HOT,
DIANA
ARTEEMIS, MY ENDLESS 1-2-3 LOVER CODES FROM 1983. I WILL ALWAYS LOVE
YOU SO MUCH! Now I know that Diana won't like what I'm about to tell
my wonderful Blogaudians. “OH
WELL”,
to quote the mighty Ann King of the Jersey lands!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! 'Wo'
Billy
Harner,
and yes, the last
man on the Steel Pier;
but then, shortly before you were, some other major event went down
on this pier, and we all know it, so why play stupid ass games? But
just how many blonds were a part of that one, old Pine Hill pal from
New Jersey, U. S. A.???? Yes, blond, redhead, brunet, 'whatever',
my
great
old bud from our youth, Mister
Congressman Andrews. There are a lot of women
who seem to knock
on my door
with regularity. One asked for 'Aretha',
and just the other day over the weekend, one asked for 'Vicky'.
I now have come to the conclusion that this
is just P.C.,
as I term this not so nicely, but still, quite accurately. The other
P.C., that is, remember, from earlier Morianity Blogs? So when my
persecutors get real bad for a long stretch, as we all know and
remember quite well, ON
COMES MY ***** COMMAND!!!!!!!!!!
BUTTTT,
my upstairs neighbor is a real Rose Jacobey 'hammerer', let me tell
you all that.
One day I am going to stick that hammer right through her damn
eardrum! MY
RUSSIAN MOTHER ******* HACKERS
or 'whatever
Congressman',
are at it big time, on MY COMPUTER-MOUSE, YO!!
This
**** eating ******* computer is not so much hacked, but
is attacked,
when the **** lapping mother ******* enemy WOMO-MILITUFAWCES,
feel like **** sucking striking it; FBI, ACLU, FCC, AND OTHERS OUT
HERE WHO JUST MIGHT GIVE A **** ABOUT CIVIL RIGHTS AND *******
LIBERTIES, OR THE ******* **** LOSS THEREOF, YO YO YO YO YO
BRAHHHHHH!!!!!
Oh
yes great mighty powerful wonderful TD Ameritrade and TD Bank, and my
old pal and pathetic victim of Paula King, Mister
Regis Philbin,
and
REMEMBER
THIS 'PASTE-IN', KIND FOLKS OUT HERE???
BY
JUNE IT WILL BE 18,000. BY END OF SUMMER, 20,000, AND BY END OF 2014,
IT WILL BE 25,000 POINTS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. And then by 2019 it
will be 28,000, and by 2020 it will be between 40 and 50 thousand
mother ******* crooked cheated Bohemian parallel-event-APE-points!
So
I was off by a mere couple of years!
TOLD
YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, TOLD YOU, LOVELY GORGEOUS GINA MY QUEENA,
YO!!!!!
WOW
FOLKS, ARE THESE GODDAMN MOTHER ******* RUSSIAN, OR WHOEVER HACKERS,
OF THE STACEY
LATTISAW
JACK
HACK
ATTACK,
really at it with me, moving makes and turning tapes, or whatever
that was all about in the early nineteen-eighties, YO!!!!!!! Oh yes
my kind people; parallel event and applying it, (using it mother
******* illegally against someone who is totally incapable of
fighting back on their billionaire level; is TOTALLY
CRIMINAL, and it deserves the DEATH PENALTY!
Let
me tell you lovely nineties babe GINA, that yes, I BELIEVE I
TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU, I TOLD YOU,
AND YES SWEETIE PIE; THE DJIA
STOCK MARKET WILL
JUST KEEP RIGHT ON GOING
MOTHER ******* ENDLESSLY UP-UP-UP-UP
UP UP UP UP UP UP UP UP UP UP UP!!!!!!!!!
Harassing
illegal scamming telephone calls are constant;
if you are remotely interested in my woes; FBI, and UNITED STATES
ATTORNEY GENERAL, and State AG. Also, my harassment with utilities,
electric and phone is off the dial, and has been again for some time;
FEDERAL
BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION!
Boy
oh boy could I use some goddamn assistance with all of this, kind
Sheriff KJM, sir. This
is highly illegal,
and as you and all other LEO's all know, it is very damn difficult to
prove!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well sir, as stated, my *****-COMMAND is way
up during these major sieges without back-off, so all I need to do is
one day, is to begin taking mother ******* advantage of this, and
then KAPLOOEY; the stock market goes straight into the goddamn
toilet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HA-HA-HA;
YOU
MISSED ME,
MISS WATER WITCH-BITCH, PRICK ASS JANE
SLEAZE-WEEDS-DISEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
JUNE
19, 2014,
THURSDAY
EVENING AT 10:25,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 75 DEGREES FNHT, HUMIDITY
98%, my ass hole nabes above me, are hammering!
Well,
moving up to more present times all though events, and my endless
freaking persecution, never ever halts, as you all know quite damn
well:
SEPTEMBER
25, 2018,
TUESDAY
EVENING AT 7:17,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE, 83 DEGREES FNHT,
RANGE
OF TEMPS TODAY, H-88/L-81.
HUMIDITY
IS 85%, HEAT INDEX IS 93 DGFT.
WIND
IS E AT 7, GUSTING TO 17.
RAINFUL
IS 000 CENTI-INCHES TODAY.
ENDocrinologists
AND END TRANSMISSION.
BLOG
33 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
“GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS” CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN
MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
WOW
am I under another ******* Sunday DEATH-SIEGE, Sheriff
Ken J. Mascara kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please help me, my
friend.
My
mouse is big time hacked, my upstairs toilet germ nabes are major
noisy today, waking me up with their incessant and beyond annoying
hammering and shuffling **** around up in that ****hole apartment
above me, and I suffered a MAJOR HEALTH AND
DEATH ATTACK with DEATH RAY BEAMS coming into my body, blowing
my bowels out AGAIN, sir Sheriff, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Someone or
something IS GOING TO LEAVE THIS WORLD
if this mother ******* **** doesn't back the hell off of me real damn
ass soon, my BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh boy oh boy is someone
about to freaking be totally wiped out and annihilated. You may take
that one straight to TD Bank, or any bank for that matter, kind
people. Yes
people, it
is 2018,
the inversion of 1802
Robin Hill Apartments.
And it was in 1980
when Paula King came to me in that wild dreaming experience, and sang
her song to me, LOIS
FOCA.
So when is this MAJOR GODDAMN EVENT going to occur that should occur,
with the year being 2018 which is the numerical transfer of the four
digits of that apartment in Voorhees, New Jersey, the great and
powerful, mighty and awesome #1802????????????????????
THE
WEATHER REPORT FOR MY TOWN, FOLKS, YO!
SEPTEMBER
23, 2018,
SUNDAY
AFTERNOON AT 3:42,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 86 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 75%, AND THE
HEAT
INDEX IS 97 DEGREES.
WIND
IS E AT 10, & GUSTING TO 18.
RAINFALL
TODAY IS 29 CENTI-INCHES.
And
no folks, it did not rain over three inches yesterday, my boo-boo. I
meant to say centi-inches, not deci-inches. Most
people on this side of the Atlantic Pond, oh
great QUEEN,
don't even know the metric system from a can of rotten tomatoes.
WEEEEEEEEEE! Just thought you may be a tad bit interested to hear
from your extremely distant cuzz; Lizzy! “Holy
heck, just what gives”? “Holy heck, just what gives”? “Holy
heck, just what gives”? “Holy heck, just what gives”? “Holy
heck, just what gives”? “Holy heck, just what gives”? “Holy
heck, just what gives”? “Holy heck, just what gives”? “Holy
heck, just what gives”? “Holy heck, just what gives”?
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA!
Well,
time to add some powerful damn **** to what I opened up earlier today
on the previous blog, since quite freaking obviously the
WOMO-OTAMSCUM-MILI-2-FAWCES want to play super dirty with me,
and wreck my Sunday, so their dirt ball stock
market can continually endlessly criminally climb to BALL
CRIME DEAD CHORD CRIES, just as I said it would folks, on
blogs from 2012 through 2016. You all know this is true! So here
goes! 3) Why the major three times that
I have died since the end of 1985, resulted in my strange
resurrections. 4) Also why Paula
of Atlantic City, along with her
sidekicks, Mister Robert McGuire,
and Misses Sarah Callio Martino, all did
what they did to me, right down to major criminal activity that
includes assault, defamation of character, damage to personal
property, and terroristic threats, that were made against both me,
along with several others that were trying to assist me back in the
middle nineteen-nineties, in getting to the bottom of why my life was
so beyond hellishly miserable and totally devastated and destroyed.
Yes people, let us continue to freaking explore all this dirty rotten
nasty-ass mess, or as David Roth called it back in the end of last
century, “a hornets nest”. When I was transported five months
into the future into late May from the day following the previous
Christmas of 2005, I ran into several people who
I could absolutely identify, and one of course was FRANK
CALLIO, who
had recently died by that date in late May. Also, just
what was that really all about when Paula King or as Spellchecker
says, Pau000204016, same truths,
songs and allberries or ALL, and radio stations also, since obviously
radio stations usually are there to play songs,
but moving on here; and definitely without any threats given to
Paula, by poor innocent pathetic little Mister Regis Philbin,
'trahlalalala'
Donna Lalasas; first off, I NEVER
EVER FORGET ANYTHING, that is unless THEY in this damn ass
'ESS' thing,
MAKE ME FORGET, BY CHANGING THE
TIMELINE OF REALITY VIA
EXPLORATRONICS, MY KIND FOLKS;
and THAT brings me to a major other point
that needs addressing right now, folks and peeps.
Soul
as the Earth Plane residents still label this, explores the
'worlds' of truth. It goes where it goes, and we do not control
this. Even while awake and 'conscious', our soul counterpart
(brain-mind) tends to just wander around
in many day-dreams. Am I wrong, people? Go ahead, tell me if I am, as
we know you cannot, not in goddamn good conscience aniwho! So here we
are at night without the daytime stimulus around us guiding most of
our thought-actions, and we seem to be drifting free through the
virtually limitless fifth dimensional hyperspace. This
higher reality self (soul) or our true beingness really, has its own
higher reasoning for why we go and explore the precise
places and things that we do in our nocturnal lives. Any
rationally thinking human being is incapable of denying the basic
new truths of Morianity's
teachings! So this takes us to the possibility that my
true beingness must be absolutely connected with the true beingness
of these Atlantic City 'very powerful people',
to quote the great New Jersey Realtor, Mister
Scott Ransom, back in late 1988! The ignorant masses say
that people are merely “obsessed” with people when they act the
way that I do, with people whom they hardly, or in some cases,
completely do not know, in this dimension. This
is a total falseness, and until the world wakes up and catches up to
its own technological advancements, the human-kind race (homosapiens)
will consider me to be only a messed up crackpot. This is more
of the endless Huntington HELL
that of course, I must keep enduring and suffering through! I know
WHAT I know, and at least I'm not quite as
'know-it-allish' as my kid, who says in one of her fantastic
song lyrics, “I know THAT I KNOW”!
Speak about the quintessential connections
to that one, huh mighty Paula Exploratron
King of WAYV? WOW THAT ONE, lovely 1979 Joann-a!!!
Yes
people, Patty H showed me through a super clever magic stunt, how to
operate a well kept mystics secret, the great
powerful and just about all mighty FASCITAR!!!
With this, you can go all over hyperspace with varying degrees of
awareness, and even moderate levels of control. Do not make the
mistake however of believing anyone is in too much control ever.
Let's examine our damn waking life for instance, kind folks. How much
control, really, do we all have over our circumstances; the traffic
on the road, the weather, the way other people may treat us
throughout our day while at work or school, or home with our
families, friends, or even our enemies? Really seriously begin to
cogitate on all of this folks, and see that Morianity indeed does
reveal many powerful and hidden truths, many are simply blocked by
people who, simply said here, JUST
DON'T WANT TO SEE THE DAMN TRUTHS ABOUT A LOT OF STUFF
AROUND THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
my 'soul' was exploring all kinds of places when I died at my
Cifaloglio security guard job, on that day following Christmas Day of
2005. I was talking to Frank Callio, and he told me to do something.
I never did it, but “that is neither here nor
there”, as Moe Howard said so often, on his really great
“3-Stooges” shows. The point to this is that things do indeed
connect. How about not just the song he was discussing with me at
that McDonald's, but the song THAT ALTERED
MY ENTIRE FREAKING LIFE,
BACK EARLY IN JUNE OF 1980, “LOVE
IS FOR CARPENTERS”, or Lois-Foca for short? Yeah folks,
just how about that one? The great Paula King
and I met in Atlantic City, in some parallel world that
you all insist on calling 'a dream'. Well fine folks. Call it a
barrel of beer cans for all I care, you know; that pesky old Rose
Shakespeare thing again, YO. Whaaaaaaaa-aha-aha! Hey Patty, I may not
be as mature as you wanted me to be, and I sure ain't no damn Yule
Brenner. Still, these incredible coincidences continue to make even
the mighty Mister James Newageauthor Redfield sit up and dance a
couple of Mike Jackson's Moon walking breaking moves, BRAHHHH!!!!!!!
Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy, peps and peeps out here. They
pour on the death siege, and I keep hollering this powerful wild ****
out, on me whittle soapbox; Mister Elmer Goddamn Fwudd,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I JUST TOOK A MAJOR HACK. MY
ENTIRE ******* DOCUMENT FROZE, AND MY 'OPEN OFFICE'
WAS HACKED OUT, AND HAD TO BE RECOVERED. SOME POWERFUL GROUP OF HALLS
MOTHER ******* FAWCES DOES'T LIKE THIS MOTHER ******* BLOG, YO!!!!
You
missed me, Mizz Sleaze-weeds-disease Jane F. HA-Ha-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
and I'll freaking damn ass compensate anyway!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
BLOG
32 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
“GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS” CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN
MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
Time
to talk about several things, kind folks. I'll be discussing the
following things: 1) Why the great man
in the White House believed what he did that day when
he choppered over to Atlantic City, and then wussed out, above
the roof of his Plaza Hotel Casino. Why the entire deal with my
medical condition went down when it did, and why it still is a very
active and ongoing situation. 2) Hoes
does a fantastic brand new movie about to be released in Hellyweird
all fit into so much, that seems to indicate the same things that I
am preaching, that America will be known centuries from now as the
land that had forty-five presidents. 3)
Why the major three times that I have died since the end of 1985,
resulted in my strange resurrections. 4)
Also why Paula of Atlantic City,
along with her sidekicks, Mister Robert
McGuire, and Misses
Sarah Callio Martino, all did what they did to me, right down
to major criminal activity that includes assault, defamation of
character, damage to personal property, and terroristic threats, that
were made against both me, along with several others that were trying
to assist me back in the middle nineteen-nineties, in getting to the
bottom of why my life was so beyond hellishly miserable and totally
devastated and destroyed. Finally, 5),
Just why Mister George Belton came into my
life, the gentleman who taught me how to play the casino
game of Roulette. The entire dirty mess, and cosmic chess
game, that all connected both in and through one hellish
inconceivable nightmare, will be explored!
THE
WEATHER REPORT FOR MY TOWN, FOLKS, YO!
SEPTEMBER
23, 2018,
SUNDAY
MORNING, AT 12:33,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 80 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 87%, AND THE
HEAT
INDEX IS 87 DEGREES.
WIND
IS ENE AT 6, & GUSTING TO 24.
RAINFALL
TODAY IS 31 CENTI-INCHES.
Yes,
the great DONALD
JOHN
TRUMP.
Everyone from late night comedians, to more serious news media folks,
to everyone we meet on the street, friends, foes, politicians, the
entire planet; still, and thank the damn Nuclatron, they wonder both
silently as well as aloud, “holy
heck, just what gives”?
You know, thinking to themselves, “Just how did this happen, this
total six year old kook-case living at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in
13-DC for cryin' out loud? Well, if people had paid real serious
attention to the Mountainpen and his Morianity, he
would not be there.
Now, in case the dummies need to know this, HE
HAS ABSOLUTELY NO
INTENTIONS
of ever relinquishing power over his conquered
people,
US, in the U.S. He
will never leave the WHITE HOUSE,
and no one will be able to throw him out. It is all being planned,
but go ahead, just like those few around me that think I am a nut
case, don't listen; just sit there and laugh and scoff. THEY
DIDN'T SEE ADOLF HITLER COMING EITHER,
back in Germany in the middle of the twentieth century! Just go to
the movie that is coming out, and then pay closer attention to these
blogs, not that it isn't already, to quote Merry Hollister, “2-LATE”!
I
just hope that when 2020 comes and goes,
what is left of everything takes a final breath and remembers that
MOUNTAINPEN
WAS NOT the big New Jersey crackpot!
But let's get down to cases, such as 1983
and 1984,
and then up in 2008
and 2009,
and me, and the big boss! When you have billions of dollars, and
handfuls of billionaire pals, and to quote the ex-ADA of Camden
County up in Jersey, Mister Ron Wirtz Senior, “When
you have those kind of big-bizz-buds, there is nothing that they
can't do to you, and totally covertly, to make you so miserable that
you end up wanting to die”.
But he didn't include how they get their FEDS-PALS to
listen in on your private telephone conversations,
and then use
all of what they hear you say, against you.
They heard all the things that happened all around me, and they know
how many hairs I have on my head. If the Nuclatron thinks that SHE is
the only one that knows it all, SHE needs to be introduced to the
BILLIONAIRE barons, and their secret clubs, where they secretly
tell each other when to short both real estate markets as well as
stock markets,
so they can get out and then re-enter, and buy up the same things at
much cheaper prices. It is all one huge illegal manipulated system,
and all of the poor hard working investors are left holding
the bag after working their damn butts off for an entire lifetime.
Maybe they get a small taste of profit after thirty or forty years.
Wanna' know how much they would get if
this was not a TOTALLY RIGGED AND ILLEGAL GAME?
I have figured it out. If they came in for example, to the STOCK
MARKET with $2,000.00
and put $75.00
per week
away into their investment accounts over a period of averaged
thirty-five years,
they would receive AN
ADDITIONAL NINE-MILLION DOLLARS.
Instead, maybe, JUST MAYBE, they
may get one million $.
We all know that this is now a paltry sum in today's over inflated
global economy, and that ten megs is a much greater share of the
wealth. But this illegal bunch of mother ******* dick biting toilet
germs, with their illegally controlled Wall Street Club of the
Bohemian Grove, and other super hush-hush clubs, want
the lions share.
If we the poor people go to a bank with a goddamn gun, to rob the
place; WE
GO TO MOTHER ******* prison for decades.
BUT THESE SAME CRIMINALS are totally permitted to come into our
lives, and steal almost every penny that we bust our **** chewing
butt-holes for! It
ain't right, it ain't fair; and we need a dam
R--------n!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Boy
oh boy, sometimes my temper gets the best of me, and also sometimes,
computer keys get stuck and print hyphen lines and 'R' letters and
'N' letters. WHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!
I
mean it really is beyond a joke. If we spit on the sidewalk in many
states, we
can BE TAKEN TO JAIL.
But be a billionaire super robber and do it right, and you GET THE
**** AWAY WITH TOTAL BUTT LICKING MURDER,
BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But
as usual folks, I am major big time digressing here. Back now on
point with just why Trump totally wussed out when he choppered over
from NYC to Atlantic City, in the early autumn of 2009. His Plaza
Hotel team with a casino surveillance video system caught Leticia
Tilley at a roulette table, watching me looking at the numbers that
were coming out. They sent it to the boss in Manhattan, and he was
convinced that I had gone backward into time, and brought my goddamn
daughter up from 1984, to the future present time of 2009. Why did he
think this, you may wonder? Because
he was watching me like a hawk, and saw all of the things that
were happening all around me
back in those eighties days.
Then
his genius people already had put a lot of two and twos together,
such as the tape that I sent to the United
States © Office,
that included the medical
conversation.
I now know from watching enough times, even
the greatest law show ever televised knew
about this.
People in the entertainment bizz have an ear for things. If I told
absolute details, names of shows, precise incidents, etcetera, it
would mean my ***-hole, so quite naturally, I cannot divulge absolute
specifics! Even
BonJovi's Engineer
told me, that the music track harmony on my 2013 remake song was OK
to put on U-Tube without permission,
but to be
careful on the “REAL INTRO” part
that this was made from, and turned into musical vibration, by way of
a music-bizz
gismo known as a vocoder!
Now without getting real specific here, Sir Donald knew long before I
did, that 'something
huge was happening'.
What he didn't know was known by his powerful-pals, to quote the
ADA-Mister
Mister Ron Wirtz Sr,
again, my peeps!
So
poor little Donald was left up in the air, literally, flying and
hovering his powerful bird, over his roof at the Plaza Hotel that day
while Ann, Dawn, Leticia, and myself were playing and watching. I was
legal to play but was only there watching the numbers at the wheel.
Letty, as her nickname was, was also watching, and Ann and Dawn were
donating lots of loot to Trump's one-armed bandits, AKA the
Slot-Machines! He
was too scared to actually 'come
down and land',
to quote the great and mighty Misses Estelle Bassler,
formerly of South Atlantic City, and later relocated in Ormond Beach,
Florida, USA. Now Trump has an uncle John, who is a Nuclear
Physicist. I'm quite sure that he filled him with enough knowledge of
what would occur if his worries were indeed tangible. If I had
actually done what he thought I may have done, and then had driven
the King family just a mile over to the bay to the Harrah Casino,
however it is spelled, and these two persons made contact by a single
touch; 260 pounds of matter and antimatter, turning into pure energy,
would most likely not only totally annihilate this entire solar
system, but probably the entire Milky Way Galaxy. So he was worried
and nervous, and rightfully so. Oh I know what some may be thinking
and pondering, those that is who are not just dismissing all of this
as the ravings of a deranged lunatic, and that is that I seem to be
in with these Kings both in early days of the nineteen-sixties and
seventies, and now again in the late part of the first decade of this
new century. You would be totally and absolutely correct. I could
never get Ann or Dawn to admit Cousin Paula was the one who directed
for all of this to happen, but why would they ever admit something
that far out and totally bizarre? It's like trying to further
scrutinize and examine the day in the early summer time of 1975, when
I was beat up in Atlantic City by those two Beach Patrol Lifeguard
Mascots. Paula ordered that one too. She also ordered McGuire to
wreck a minimum of three of my automobiles back up there in Jersey,
and also to intimidate and threaten me, and worse. McGuire totally
destroyed the car I was driving back when these blogs were new, and I
was friends with Eddie Himacane. My website that is now defunct,
Morianity dot com, unfortunately; posted a slide-show where Robert
McGuire, back in the middle of October of 2006, not only put sand
into my tank and blew up my car,
but also came to my car with his clenched fist, and the photo shows
him at the passenger side of the vehicle peering in at Eddie while I
was sitting behind the steering wheel. He
doesn't own Tennessee Avenue, and neither does that horrible witch
Paula King.
Just who do these mother ******* toilet germs think that they are for
crissake, YO?
Despite
Don Trump and Steve Winn not always being the best of pals, they were
business colleagues as well as on and off pals. I made a little bit
of trouble at Winn's Golden Nugget Hotel Casino late in 1983 or early
in 1984, around the same time that my medical condition had come upon
me. Yes Trump
told a reporter that he couldn't give a **** about Mister Winn's
marital problems, but that's ******* ***-hole Trump. We all know him
by now, nothing new going on here, people.
So after I had sent a letter to the governor of New Jersey back in
those days, Mister Tom Cain, or however he spells it, regarding being
ripped off by five dollars at a Roulette-Table at the Nugget Casino,
I
suppose these rotten dirt bags had reason to not like me all that
much. I received a very nice personal reply from the governor,
and this most likely added
fuel to the fire.
I know that these powerful wealthy toilet germs know every single
thing about me. That is what the rich and the powerful do. They get
into all of our lives so they can screw us and own us, one way or
another. You all know this is true, and I am not going to waste a
moment of time trying to twist any arms. Still, my
contact with that quite mysterious and unfathomably weird medical
laboratory or Throat Specialist Office, off of Grant Avenue, and
their magical technician,
is a story that would be unbelieved no matter who I would ever try
and tell it to. After arriving home and eating dinner, I went to bed
early that evening, and remember this as clearly as I remember the
bite of a junk yard dog, that I received as a teenager, in Oaklyn,
New Jersey. I remember that very well because it hurt like
DOGTOWN-CUBED! Anyway, I
awoke the next morning with one huge part of the previous day totally
removed and blocked from my mind.
To this day, it is still irretrievable. I only remembering leaving,
and driving down the Interstate-95, and ending up in some very weird
house along that highway, in Philadelphia. There were trailers around
the property and the street out beyond the property was cobblestone.
That is all I ever remember CONSCIOUSLY. Now
consciously verses (dream-time),
has been a topic that MORIANITY, as you all know, has its very own
and very damn unique viewpoints about, and I make absolutely no bones
about that whatsoever! But
moving ahead here folks, in dreams, through the years ever since this
time early somewhere in 1984, I am back in this place. Through years
and years and years, I have learned many things about this place.
Most of the people are always completely naked. Many people are both
white and black, and also, everyone is young, except for one dude who
wears glasses, and is a total oddball. The rooms are all filled with
recording studio type amplifier equipment and major powerful audio
monitors (speakers). In one of these many many 'DREAMS', I got
talking to a dude who is a police officer. He says he knows me, and
that
the entire police everywhere know me,
and have for a very long time. He
WILL NOT be more damn specific.
This officer has a sergeant who in a few of these 'DREAMS' has come
to visit, and yet in other hyperspace interactions, I leave this
place, and drive about ten minutes and go visit him at some weird
type of police building. Sometimes, I am not young, but old, and in
these places where I am old, it is as if time itself has no meaning
at all, as if we were all living (existing really) back in the
Plankatory. BUTTTTTTTTTTTTT folks, this is NOT THE Plankatory. It is
a close-in or (LOCAL) area of 5th
dimensional hyperspace. In only one of these powerful interactions,
Donald Trump came over and was talking to some of the people there
about his recent purchase of some land in the city, and he wanted to
expand the psychiatric hospital that was there on this property. This
was approximately half a year before he had opened up in this waking
world universe, his Atlantic City Plaza Hotel Casino, his very first
Jersey casino. He did not speak to me but he sat down next to me on
this bright orange couch that was made of leather and was somehow
colored orange. He was talking about tubes up in the sky, and future
travel by way of these weird tubes. One of the residents in this very
weird house, was seemingly quite interested in co-investing with
Mister Trump, in this property; because he claimed that there was a
room there in the hospital, that was filled with these, and
I quote this “other worldly Trump”, “magical traveling tubes”!
Now as far as all of this being connected to the
magical THROAT-SPECIALIST and his magical LAB-TECH ASSISTANT,
there are many multiple kickers here in all of this, kind people.
Time will simply not permit me to even start rifling through them
all, so we will just attack one of them for right now on this damn
blog, kind folks. Even though all of this super expensive audio
apparatus was all over the house, as well as all throughout several
of the nearby trailers that were close to the house; there
was a
small radio that was cube shaped
like those old early sixties one watt transistor radios
that only us really old farts like me even know about and remember.
But instead of tuning into radio stations that were broadcasting
presently, they seemed to be coming from days and even weeks out into
the future. Only recently since 2017, last year, did
I begin to clearly remember other powerful dreaming interactions with
Paula King, down on the Atlantic City Beach, right near her WAYV-FM
radio station,
where she was insisting that I bring her this very radio. I
told her I couldn't get back to that horrible house down near Grant
Avenue and Interstate 95 in Philadelphia.
She would not take no for an answer however. She always grabs my arm
and twists it until I hear the bones break and I drop down onto the
beach in absolute intense agony. As you may imagine folks, THERE
IS A TON MORE of this horrendous awful ****,
but for now, let us trek onward with the other part of this blog!
I
have absolutely died about a dozen or more times, but there are three
major incidents that need to be re-explored and discussed here; my
awesome and great wonderful BLOGAUDIANS! The middle of December of
the year 1985 was one of these. Another was the day after Christmas
and I believe it was the year of 2005, and it has been discussed
back on my original early blogs of those days and times. Then a
couple of years later, at Jenny Plageman's Trailer Park in Mullica
Township in New Jersey. There is no way that any logic as I know it,
would have allowed me to survive any of these touches with death. The
one late in 1985, was when I was playing my car stereo a bit too loud
while approaching Woodbury, New Jersey's Route 45 intersection. I had
the light, but a police cruiser was tearing through the intersection,
sirens blazing but I never heard it. Suddenly at the intersection as
I crossed it, his eyeballs were one and the same with my eyeballs.
Inside my mind I saw a horrible car wreck. Then it was three seconds
later, and I was through the damn intersection, and heading to my
security job as if nothing had ever happened. Then there was the
incident at my security job place called Cifaloglio, at just past
five in the damn morning on the day following Christmas of 2005. I
had not been feeling well at all. I had shut my eyes for a ten minute
cat nap, and suddenly that loud grinding machine that always kicked
on with a terrible bang at three minutes past five every morning,
came on. My already bad heart exploded inside of my chest, and I
goddamn totally died. Suddenly I was not in this world. My blogs tell
the details of this event also. I also had no Earthly way of knowing
that Frank Callio had recently passed away or would be dying soon or
whatever. He was the one who came to me in this experience and told
me to deliver those damn flowers to that A&R lady in NYC, along
with a cassette tape of my song written around 1999 somewhere, called
'Atlantic
Queen'.
This is where magical Paula came driving in, who back then, I had
believed to be Sarah Callio; and had pulled into the transfer station
nearby to where my car was parked. She
told me that I should walk over to the warmer side of the place,
and when I followed her instructions, I
was suddenly in some parallel universe, five months in the future,
late that following May of 2006. This is where I spoke to several
people about those sporting events, and then found myself at the
McDonald's, over near the Atlantic City Airport,
on the Black Horse Pike; and I was there with the Mayor, and with
Frank
Callio,
who as I said, had
recently
died;
only
I had no way of knowing that.
I am not in the loop of any of these people. Finally, there was a
major incredible thunderstorm in my area one day in 2007. I may be
off by a year, but this is my best recollection. I lived at the
number 10 Trailer at Jenny Plageman's Trailer Park. Diana was all
over me. I always talk to her on my phone and tell her how beautiful
each strike is and how much I love her lovely colors she makes for
me. But when I call Diana, “Baby
Blond”,
it
makes her like totally nuts,
to quote the mother ******* kids. She came right down onto Jenny's
porch and I was still holding the receiver of my Verizon Land-line
telephone. Suddenly I was in Ricktown Manor back in Plankatory. My
giant lovely coil who is 33 feet high, was humming and buzzing and
clicking away at me, and she suddenly turned into my lovely long
haired tall blond teen queen. She grabbed me and threw me down on our
favorite bed at Ricktown Manor, and made beyond freaking passionate
love to me. Then she started waving to me, and I could not understand
why. She kept waving and waving and then she said, “Good-bye Ricky,
I will be with you as you go back to sleep now in your Mark Mohr
dreams”. When
I am there with her in the unfathomable Plankatory, I am known in my
true entity self as Ricktafarius.
Anyway I suddenly was holding my receiver telephone and standing back
inside my trailer with the door wide open. The storm had just about
subsided. But my caller ID Box, and my land-line telephone had been
burned to a crisp. But I had no burns on me, not a single mark. Why
do I make a big deal out of so many times where I left this world,
and came back, you ask me?
Well, because most people here don't die over and over and over and
over, and never stay mother ******* dead, that's why!
GUESSING
THE NAMES OR THE (IDENTITIES) OF THE VISITING TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON
(GUESTS) may sound a bit 'weedikalass',
Mister Elmer Fwudd, BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT,
I promise you this, WOMO, MO, and all others
concerned. So many things would sound absolutely mother
******* absurd, impossible, and totally ridiculous, just 100, 200,
300 years ago, and believe me people; those amounts of time are an
eyelash ******* blink, to the great mountains, and the stars of the
sky, and yes; if you were to just go back into time, one or two or
three lousy little centuries; and begin speaking to those folks
around you, about all of the incredible things that exist in our
time, and in our society; from jet airplanes, to moon landings, to
global communications and satellites, and internet and social media,
and electricity, and electric lights, and machines, and recording
live sounds and images and retrieving them at will; and
I could go on for an hour and won't, but
if you did that; they would *******
hang you as a damn witch, and no
one would believe a damn ******* word that you said!!!!!! I pwomise
you dat, folks, YO!!!
My
mother ******* dirt bag enemies think that I need thousands of
dollars for expensive electronic equipment. As that great wonderful
hair shampoo commercial would say, or that gorgeous babe in it, back
in 1980, “W-R-O-N-G”!!!!!
Cheapo junk works just as well, as hyperspace and messing with it,
isn't one bit prejudiced against lousy sound quality and other
low-budget related absurdities. Sorry to burst your safe-bubble, you
bastard ******* rotten super wealthies out there. And I do promise
you, as I have all along, “Before you get
to me, I'll get to you”!
WOW
THAT, DOCTOR JULIA HOFFMAN WHITE!!!!!!!
ENDocrinologists
AND END TRANSMISSION.
MARK
WAYNE MOHR, MOUNTAINPEN,
(THE
BOM)
REAL
REAL FUNNY, OLD 1971 BUDDY, MISTER MIKE MCNULTY!
BLOGS----OF----MOUNTAINPEN
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
MORIANITY
FOR MELLENNIUM 3
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
WOW
is it hot today, people. Well, relatively speaking that
is, as maybe in freaking Siberia it is not all that hot. Fort Pierce,
Florida, USA however; this is Mack Kaiter 1967 absurdly ridiculous.
The
computer is running slower than molasses, Mizz Donna Accident
Patterson Lalassas, and me ol' mouse is just about all hacked to high
heaven! WEEEEEEEEEE! What a wonderful world, as the old song goes.
BLOG
31 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
''GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS'' CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN
MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
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
20, 2018,
EARLY
THURSDAY EVENING, AT 5:30,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 87 DEGREES FNHT.
DOWN
FROM THE HIGH OF 92 DG.- FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 72%, AND THE
HEAT
INDEX IS 98 DEGREES.
WIND
IS ENE AT 10, AND NO GUSTS.
RAINFALL
TODAY IS 0.
I
just want to thank my local Sheriff for helping me out today. I had a
very uneventful time going over to Vero Beach, to see my Behavior
Health Counselor, Miss Jane and not Hathaway from the Beverly Hill
Billies! WOW THAT JOANNA,
with or without!
Yes
we do live in an amazing and quite fascinating world, lads and
lassies. Or to put it another way, back on Chapter
#122 of the BLOG-BOOK NAMED “GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS”, ONE OF SARAH
KRASSLE/PAULA KING'S GREAT GAMES; and
yes folks, I indeed do quote myself here, YO,
“No
Detective Green sir;
they
didn't want to lose their dam jobs up there at the GAP US © OFFICE.
We know what's being said, sir, and you're one hell of a cool dude,
YO!!! Well it's time for me to put my ******* affairs in order and
get ready for death. The angel of death, Morty Mortino, is all over
me; buzzing from one ear to the other, over and ******* **** over,
and over and over again!!!!!!!!!! I need a nice quiet *******
eternity somewhere, only that idea is for fools and babies. We all
know that one, allberries, Roddenberry, and Pink
Goddess”. WEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
Hold
the dam mayo, and listen up, YO:
MARK
WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN HUNTINGTON MOHR
BLOGS
© 2006-2018
My
life is not exactly Jekyll and Hyde;
but I will tell you that I don't ******* need to talk about what my
rotten dam daughter did and all of her family, not to you, to me, or
even to Russell out there, wherever he may be, Mister Chester-Frank
BluCRANTRAN Blue Anchor, New Jersey, USA. They did NOT want me, all
things notwithstanding Microsoft Corporation, to
BE HYPNOTIZED. YYYYYYYYY???????
Just
exactly who out here knew exactly what, all of those goddamn mother
******* rotten ass years? Think about it. I had people almost insane
and almost ready to commit ******* homicide over this issue in the
nineties, and then when Dock Mark Wolf's Clinic in Moorestown, New
Jersey, finally did indeed perform major hypnotherapy on me; my
entire life altered,
and so did the entire world, and especially in Atlantic City. All
went ******* ape **** **** nuts squared. You
all know this is true.
The FBI knows it, the ******* NSA knows it, and
my Russian pal Mister SNOWED-IN knows it.
Hey buddy, I am the one that is all snowed in here. I was hoping you
were going to help me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!,
and
my Russian pal Mister SNOWED-IN knows it.
Hey buddy, I am the one that is all snowed in here. I was hoping you
were going to help me, YO!
and
my Russian pal Mister SNOWED-IN knows it.
Hey buddy, I am the one that is all snowed in here. I was hoping you
were going to help me, YO!
and
my Russian pal Mister SNOWED-IN knows it.
Hey buddy, I am the one that is all snowed in here. I was hoping you
were going to help me, YO!
and
my Russian pal Mister SNOWED-IN knows it.
Hey buddy, I am the one that is all snowed in here. I was hoping you
were going to help me, YO!
and
my Russian pal Mister SNOWED-IN knows it.
Hey buddy, I am the one that is all snowed in here. I was hoping you
were going to help me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 122
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 122
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 122
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 122
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 122
Now
before the sun has a chance to set on this very true nightmare story,
I will tell you that the flowers were supposed
to be delivered to an audition and repertoire person, a lady, in NYC,
(A&R), along with a copy of my song, written
early in 2000 at Guthrie Short's mansion in Blue Anchor, New Jersey,
USA, called, “Atlantic Queen”,
and I think it was part of the copyrighted music project called,
'Russ Walker's Star Travelers of 1896'.
Holy
mother ******* milf mamas banging hard on top, this is **** chewing
******* absurd; Mister Mack Soapmouth Kaiter, of 1967 and 1968, YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
sir/mahm, I sure remember saying this thing a couple years back. To
me this was goddamn twenty minutes! Now
to the great PINK GODDESS, it has been about a
nano-second!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You go girl, fly that kite. Nothing ever changes Sheriff, including
the misfeasance of my public servants all over this ugly
country!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You all know I
am getting mauled and pummeled and clocked 24-7-365.2422,
and you won't lift a ******* **** chewing finger to aid me at
allberries or BluCRANTRAN situations. I have proven these rotten
people have totally wrecked my entire life, and you all sit there
with your thumbs stuck up your *** and do nothing at all!!!!!!!!!!!!
Boy
was I mad that day, YO.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
I
JUST GOT SCREWED BY JANE WITCHBITCH DIRTWEEDS SLEAZE DISEASE FONDA
WITH A DIGITAL REPRESENTATION OF HER FACE ON MY FREAKING PAGE ELEVEN
OF ELEVEN. ALLOW ME PWEEEEEEEEZE TO COMPENSATE!
55555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
Yes
folks, I also said some other wild stuff back on that chapter of
“GTNOTG” BLOG-BOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For
example:
Very
soon, I am going to throw away every electronic machine in my
apartment, including this computer. These are all TOOLS
OF SATAN,
and I refuse to play HIS SICK TWISTED GAMES.
WOW,
''I'm impressed'', Aunt Geraldine Cuss-word Groundhog! Yeah, Gadfly,
I hear there is a price on his head, along with Zimmy; good. Who
needs roadkill and murderers all around us when there are enough
tears and fears and jeers lurking all around us and our loved ones?
Boy was I mad at the damn world that day, my friends and fiends!!!
I
do not ever want to get my beautiful giant coil, or 'Lightning
Goddess Diana' mad at me. She is the love of my life, and on the
Astral-Plane, she lives with me in Ricktown, Province Olympia, at the
Ricktown Manor. We share a wonderful eternity there together, kind
world, or maybe, unkind world!
Nobody
lets me post photos anymore. Some world!!!
This
entire computer nonsense is for the birds. Folks want to
remain way to secretive, and to me, it is silly and stupid, like we
are all 6 year olds playing spies and agents. This is not James Bond,
this is a real world, and I am going to be rapping all of this up. I
have NO SECRETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have NO
SECRETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have NO
SECRETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have NO
SECRETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have NO
SECRETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have NO
SECRETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have NO
SECRETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IN THE NAME OF THE
GODS, HELP ME KIND SHERIFF K.J.M.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR, AND HIS BLOG, 2006-2018
I
can invite the mayor, and the sheriff, and the AG over for dinner any
time, and have nothing to hide, CUZZ DONALD!!!
Of
course, Mizz Bondi is NOT INVITED!!!
Yes,
mighty
Patty-Paula,
what a gal. If
she hated me so much
that night on July the damn twelfth of 1970, at half past ten of the
clock at night, on that public bus heading west and inland, from the
Atlantic City Bus Terminal on Arkansas Avenue; then
why did she give me that incredible LOIS-FOCA experience on the first
week of June, ten years later almost to the day, in 1980?
Let's talk about 1980, and where I was living when this all was
taking place, 1802 Robin Hill Apartments. And yes, let us throw in
the present year, you know, right now, two-thousand-eighteen, or
2018.
WOW THAT JOANNA! Same damn digits as 1802.
This
is why this
year
has to have some mind bending absolutely wild
event happen,
and one that connects both me and the entire world, just as happened
in 1980
at 1802!!!!
Yes
there really was, Mizz Virginia Avenue, a Sir
James Knowitall Burr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So just what
really are powerful
LOIS
FOCA AGE-10
CONNECTIONS, you may be inquisitive about, or maybe like Cuzz Don,
you don't give a ****. Well, don't let him or any other rotten prick
in this twisted screwy world try fooling you about their connections
with me. They DO give a ****. If they didn't, they wouldn't hack me
day and night, and hack out my account with numerous things, such as
the County
Medicaid Office of Florida.
B-U-T,
kind
folks, it is time for me now to add something in for you about all
this.
My
fathers razor was talked about in very early blogs, and how while
visiting my mother and I back in the middle sixties, in Westmont, New
Jersey, his
electric
shaver in this world, became something entirely different in a dream
world that I was in.
All I am able to tell, is Shakespeare
himself
knew about not only Atlantic
City and 1965, but he also knew about Sarah's shop on Tennessee
Avenue.
But without reading his great plays or caring at all about the great
classical literature, no one will ever see these powerful and awesome
******* truths. I wonder why this dumbed down world and generation
all happened, just like I wonder why all kinds of ******* wacky
laws were passed since 1988 regarding PC, and I do not mean computers
or any other thing, Mister Bill Mawr.
Yes Detective Curtis, we're losing people, but
the king
of the
morning light
seemed to be onto all of you. The day at the
other KING,
AKA Burger King, you crooked ******* stupid phone app rip off people;
Ann told me some
things that are unbloggable.
Well, most of my **** is unbloggable, and just because I dared to
blog a lot of it doesn't change that whittle fact, Elmer
Fwudd!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You know people, all I am doing here is
randomly selecting previous blogs in my file, randomly scrolling to
any area, and cutting and pasting in the stuff. It
all fits, and all is all.
No great Spellchecker, not allberries, but I'll let you put it in
here if you want to by hitting the ENTER KEY, YO. This last little
squib was not WASHINGTON, Mister Spellchecker SIR, BUTTTTT it
washington WAS, back
on the second day in January of the fifteen year,
when I said these great words of Mister
Marcucci's marvelous wisdom.
So beware all assassins!
Let's
not get TOO damn chronological
here, sir!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
JANUARY
2, 2015,
FRIDAY
EVENING AT 11:13, JANE WHORE,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 71 DEGREES FNHT.
TODAY'S
RANGE, (H-77/L-69)
HUMIDITY
IS 94%, AND IT FEELS 76 DEGREES.
WINDS
ARE NORTH AT 4, GUSTING TO ******* 6.
Travelers
are why all the rest of us NOT IN THE DAM 'ESS'
have memories
that fade out.
This is what is behind their seemingly magical power over memory. If
they can change ******* **** all around us, then memories change as
well.
It is really a DUH deal.
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MISTER MCNULTY!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MISTER MCNULTY!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MISTER MCNULTY!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MISTER MCNULTY!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MISTER MCNULTY!!!!!
Yes
people, it
is 2018,
the inversion of 1802
Robin Hill Apartments.
And it was in 1980
when Paula King came to me in that wild dreaming experience, and sang
her song to me, LOIS
FOCA.
I had no clue about her owning a radio station someday, if she did
then or would later, or as Congressman Rob Andrews said to me quite
often when he was just a young boy, “WHATEVER”. When we exclude
the NINE and the TWO, it is quite interesting that we are left with
either the number '29' or the number '92'. The Morning Light song,
that was recorded on the very first day of my renting that apartment
at Robin Hill, back on May 1, 1980, has its third and final lyric
that goes, “You say 1992 will be, the end of time and the starting
of eternity”, and then the chorus goes onto complete the song,
with, “But I'm telling you it's gonna' be all right, when you quit
acting like you're so up tight. Don't you know that you're out of
sight, in the morning light”, and NO, not LIGHTHOUSE, Mister
Spellchecker, SIR, WOW THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ENDocrinologists
AND END TRANSMISSION.
ENDocrinologists
AND END TRANSMISSION.
ENDocrinologists
AND END TRANSMISSION.
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