BLOG
69 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
''GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS''
CONTINUING CHAPTERS
IN MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
MAGNESONIC,
OPEN COMMAND, G-7.
WHOEVER
IS SCREWING UP MY ENTIRE LIFE AND PERSECUTING ME TO MY GRAVE, WITH
NUMEROUS TYPES OF ASSAULTS, IS TO BE SCANNED
FOR TOTAL CRUSH DESTRUCT, SINGE DESTRUCT, TOTAL DESTRUCT,
DESTRUCT; ON ALL GENERAL AND ALL CODED GENERAL
ORDERS. USE BOTH 'AD' AND 'ZD' TECHNOLOGIES. MAGNESONIC, ON AN
'I' TO 'D', A/B TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, YOU WILL
NOW HAVE YOUR 1983 AT&T OLD STYLE PHONE-TONES DATA TRANSFERRED,
INTO LONG-EEEEE VOWEL-SOUND PRINT, WITH
THE RED PRINT FOR THE 'A'
TONE, AND THE BLUE PRINT FOR THE
'B' TONE.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
GO
TO G-189, UNDER SPECIAL ORDER 18, AND
STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ever since the
mother fucking electrical power interruption at around
six this cunt huffing MOUUUUUUUURNING, my COMCAST FUCKING CUNT CABLE
SERVICE has been negatively effected, and the television service is
all mother fucking screwed the fucking shit up, SHERIFF KJM, kind
sir!!!!!!!!!! The goddamn fucking remote control WILL NOT properly
respond to commands, and it is not the battery, as I have put in
numerous brand new powerful COPPERTOP BATTERIES and believe me, those
mother fuckers put out lots of great power and last one hell of a
long time. You pay for them, but as we all come to learn here on this
fucked up planet, “You get what you pay for”!!!!!!!!!
The
mouse was great for a short while too, sheriff Mascara sir, while you
and the FEDS were watching over fucking me. Now things have all
returned to the garbage state again, just as they always fucking do
when you stop watching over my cunt chewing fucking
shoulder!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
has been the mother fucking absolute worst year in decades now,
Mister Agent Robert Mueller and Sheriff Ken Mascara. It is like being
sent right back into mother fucking time to the late eighties and the
nineties, ALL OVER CUNT HUFFING AGAIN, to be maximum tortured, only
with one great mother fucking difference. Now I am old and losing my
hair, Mister Marcucci, with nobody to send me any valentines,
birthday greetings, or bottles of mother fucking wine, YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!
It
all started when mother fucking dirt bag paid off Larry Lee of State
Farm, totally put a cunt chewing shiv into my cunt eating back in
July. During that same time, the WOMO-MILITUFORCE,
AKA HALLS-FAWCES,
totally fucked up my poor only automobile,
wrecking my cunt eating tires, almost causing me a fatal accident,
ruining my ignition system, destroying my car radio, and the list
goes on and on and mother fucking on, kind Sheriff Mascara,
SIR!!!!!!!!!! Then as the Midterm-fucking-Elections drew nearer and
nearer still, these fucking parallel-event using sub scum shit eating
fucker filth, destroyed my apartment climate control unit, and then
they also made sure they had an excuse to get in here and cause me
ANOTHER LEAK, this time in
my mother fucking kitchen sink, and flooding
my entire under cabinet space, and making its way all over the
rugs placed down on the floor of the kitchen. They
took months before they would effect
the repairs, AFTER IT WAS ALREADY TOO
LATE IN THE FUCKING ELECTIONS, AND THE CHEATING DIRT HOLE REPUBLICANS
AGAIN BLEW US ALL AWAY. Causing me
property damage
is a powerful tool in parallel event,
that these evil mother fucking monsters from Republican hell, use
over and over and over AGAIN, YO,
SHERIFF SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The reason is
because it cunt eating works, my brother, it
works!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A few years back, my mail slot
was fucked with, and the previous Resident Manager knew about it.
They absolutely love to pick on mailboxes,
especially against those in the fucking ass HUNTINGTON
CLAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just ask Oprah
Winfrey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Kind Sheriff sir, THIS
IS WHY PEOPLE EVENTUALLY TAKE THE GODDAMN LAW INTO THEIR OWN
HANDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
won't lie to you sir. I would rather go
to fucking prison, and off some of these rotten horrendous bastards.
At my old age, a life sentence is not that
terrible a punishment. Without
transfusing teenaged blood once or twice a week, into my body,
I doubt I'll last much mother fucking longer,
kind sir!!!!!!!!!!
They
are totally determined to wipe out everything around me; my health,
my property, and my sanity. This is a very
major mother fucking UTILITY HARASSMENT AND SIEGE, right now this
weekend, kind sir. They were determined to wipe out my
internet weather page, and no matter what I did to compensate for
their ILLEGAL HACKING, of a perfectly legal
United States mother fucking citizen, they wiped it out. It
now reads some hacked fucking shit and never ever works at all. But
looking on the cunt chewing fucking bright side, who gives a fucking
shit about weather reports on my blog, WHEN
THINGS ARE THIS TOTALLY MOTHER FUCKING HORRENDOUS, YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO?????????
First
off, I don't believe that the recent major incident that you had was
by any chance some fucking random thing. THE WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES know
when I am being watched over, and when I am not, and the second that
the spotlight goes off of me, POOF, they knock the mother fucking
dogshit out of me without letting too many blades of fucking grass
grown in the garden! Well, tomorrow I will have to drive all the
cunt eatring way up to Vero Beach to the fucking cunt eating COMCAST
CABLE place, and exchange my remote control and my fucking shitty
little computer-TV box, for new ones. I am going to tell them that
this is fucking ELDER-ABUSE. They won't come to the customer unless
you fork over a hundred mother fucking clams, and I ain't fucking got
a spare dime, under this fucking goddamn HUNTINGTON
CURSE,
BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
First
off, Mister Agent Mueller and Sheriff Mascara, kind sirs; I know that
nobody is able to stop this horrible mother fucking curse on my
family that has been past down to me, since the
time of Jesus Christ's half brothers and half sisters, MY
FAMILY. I know this quite well. Still, HALLS
FAWCES do back fucking shit off of me when you guys shine
a little bit of the spotlight on me, and try to watch over me; just
as the former ADA Ron
Wirtz
Senior did,
up at the Camden County, New Jersey Prosecutor's Office, did
from late in 1989 through the middle of the nineties. But the second
that he left America, on 10 January of 1990, for a trip to Scotland
Yard, across the Queen's great Pond; POOF,
I GOT THE MOTHER FUCKING SHIT
CRACKERS crunched out of me, you
know; 1975 at the future Hilton Beaches of Atlantic City, ALL
OVER FUCKING CUNT AGAIN, YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jane
mother fucking dirt bag Sleaze-Weeds Puke-Disease just fucking cunt
nailed my pathetic dirt bag asshole with her cunt eating number ONES.
Allow me pweeeeeeEEEEEEZE to CUNT-PHLEGM-RAPE or (compensate) with my
goddamn mother fucking whittle FIVES, me BROadcasters and me
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW THAT, Mister
Spellchecker, and a fucking big ass
WEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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This
should also clear me of mother fucking dirt-ball PAGE ELEVEN OF
ELEVEN, where I must endure seeing fucking four goddamn ONES in a
row, signifying the endless Huntington Curse producing endless
fucking days of BOTBAR, or Bottom Of The Barrel, Already
Rated!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Another cock sucking fucking
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, and bu dumdum, along with the deafening
crashing goddamn cymbals at full 5,000-Watt crank up to the
max.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have no goddamn fucking way of knowing exactly WHY THESE DEATH SIEGES
COME ON ME THIS BADLY, since I admit, it is not like this 24-7-365.
BUTTTTTTTTT, it is always quite shitty, and then when the real death
sieges fucking strike me, none of you could even begin to imagine
what I go through. Picture yourself living like this. Always
something not working, somebody always fucking screwing with you,
shit always going wrong to the point where you can make big money
book on it happening, over and over, year after year, decade in and
decade out, century after Bob Barker Priceright century, and
millennium after mother fucking Bob Barker Priceright
millennium!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have tried for 30-40 years now, to figure out just who is
behind all of this, and how this is all being done to me, and how
they can possibly fucking have so much fucking total power, and why I
am the only person on this cunt fucking chewing pwanet that seems to
be under this horrific major nightmare curse straight from mother
fucking HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUTTTTTTTTT, I have no answers, NONE
WHATSOEVER, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Indeed though,
I've learned that Mister James
New-Age-Father Redfield, is absolutely correct in his
novel ideas about synchronicity,
coincidence, and symbolism!!!
The biggest example that I can promise you totally makes me know more
than any other one item, THAT THIS GREAT MAN
SHOULD BE THE 46TH PRESIDENT OF THIS COUNTRY, is the
incident following my buying a DUAL-TURNTABLE in the early autumn of
the year 1980, while residing at the Robin Hill Apartments, at #1802.
The next day when I told Mike Walters, the RPL STUDIO LABS PRINTER,
that I am such an idiot for wasting $300.00 on this great turntable,
and I have no records to play on it, or practically none. As many of
you may know and or remember from many previous blogging texts over
the past nearly 13 years now, I gave most of my records along with
other items, to an apartment resident manager, by the name of Mike
Gutherman, back in the summer time un the Bicentennial year of 1976,
YO. Then Printer mike told me that during my lunch break, he will
take me up into the attic of the studio building at 1100 State
Street, and 1558 Pierce Avenue, in Camden, New Jersey, USAESMWG, and
show me a pile of 33 albums called the 'Overage-Pile”. Every dozen
years, a pile of overage records that were test pressed at Atlantic
Records' Ancora, New Jersey Division, and a copy sent back to the RPL
Sound Studio Laboratories, and that I may take the large pile all the
way on the left side of an extremely large cardboard box. Indeed we
went up to the place on my lunch-break. He pointed out the pile, and
it took me two trips, but I managed to get this huge pile of records
down from the attic and into my 1978 Chevy-Nova automobile. He said
that within the week, this entire pile would just be tossed out into
the trash bins. His exact words to me while I loaded the second pile
into my car and he was holding open the alarmed-door nearby to where
my vehicle was parked in the studio lot, “Now
Mark, you've got records to play”. I
don't think I will ever forget three sentences, not if I live
as Mark Mohr here on Earth, for another mother fucking 792 goddamn
years. That one, and “You're friends are in the shop” and “I'm
darker than you are”. Like mother fucking WOW ON STEROIDS,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So just what is the story in
this that is so mind bending regarding mister Redfield and his great
wisdom pertaining to not believing in the randomness of coincidence?
Well, let me tell you, kind peeps, YO! I was on a 12 hour special
shift that would occur whenever the great almighty Mister Pat
700-Club Robertson, would need a whole bunch of his talks-on-tapes,
concerning matters of Christianity and his following. RPL Studios
were his main duplicators of his millions of cassette tapes. This all
happened during one of these periods where he needed a lot of tapes
as soon as possible, so the night crew which I was one of, instead of
being on the 4:30 PM to 1 AM shift, were now working 12 hour tricks,
from 8 to 8, while the day crew worked 8 to 8 from morning through
the evening. So after my long night ended at 8 in the morning, I was
driving home. I had these many many records all stacked without any
straps or inside of any box, just laying in a huge pile right on my
fromt passenger side seat of my car. As I got within a mile or so of
my apartment, some total fucking jerk off idiot pulled right out in
front of me, and I had to slam on my damn ass breaks. As you may
think, these multiple 33-album records literally flew down onto the
section where a passenger would place his or her feet, and the
original order that they were in was totally scrambled up. So after
arriving back at the parking lot right under my apartment, number
1802, I again made two trips up to the 2nd floor apartment
where I resided. BUTTTTTTTTT, an entirely new stacking order was done
that never would have been done if that total idiot had not made me
slam on my breaks to avoid hitting his damn ass car. Now I never ever
played more than a couple of dozen of these records. They all had the
words on them, “WOODS TEST PRESSING”. Except for that, their was
absolutely no other printing at all on any of them. The very top
record obn the new pile was that of the recording artist Donna
Summer, back in munich, Germany, as a young teenager, doing her
version of the Broadway hit musical, “HAIR”. Another record maybe
two or three below that one, was an unknown work of Karen Carpenter,
called, or I am supposing it is called, “He Cries At Night”.
Again, no labels or titles were printed anywhere. These records were
a dozen years old, and this was back in October of 1980, so we're
talking late somewhere in the year 1968. I ever ever would have
played those records, as I never played or listened to more than the
top 20 or so on this pile that I placed into a cardboard box in my
bedroom, along with numerous reel to reel tapes and cassette tapes of
numerous other music, including my own recently cut four demo
records, “The morning Light”, “Lost Love”, “Long River
Blues”, and “Love So high”. The last two on that list were
recorded by the man who now is Congressman Robert Andrews, and who
was in the local town band just a block away from the HTHS High
School where I attended the 7th and the 8th
grade, from September of 1966 through June of 1968. This band was in
the home of Mister Albert Pillegi, and I may or may not be spelling
his name correctly here. This person introduced me to that crazy nut
case Mister Jan Nace, who owned that crummy little Cherry Hill Studio
called Maxfield, right neat the Garden State Racetrack, on Beidamin
Avenue. That is where those four demonstration records were made, and
then later slightly improved on at my studio, RPL, by the Chief
Recording Engineer, Mister Howard Solomon. But my point here is that
without that idiot pulling out in front of me
that day near to my apartment, I WOULD NEVER EVER HAVE KNOWN ABOUT
THOSE TWO INCREDIBLE RECORDS WITH DONNA AND KAREN. And folks,
those two records, and yes, others as well, is a story that will take
me a century to tell, so don't fucking hold your damn ass breath, my
wonderful people!!!!!!!!!! every single one of us is just as
interconnected into this fucking synchronicity deal as I am. Some of
you already know the incredible power that seems to be behind these
wild OZ curtains of total mystery. Some may not. In any event, there
is lots and lots more to tell!
SHERIFF
MASCARA SIR, I
AM UNDER A MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING DEATH SIEGE
THIS CUNT CHEWING MOUUUUUUUURNING, ON 18 NOVEMBER, 2018, SIR, AND MY
KIND FRIEND. MY MOUSE AND COMPUTER ARE
ALL HACKED UP, AND I HAVE HAD MY MOTHER FUCKING ELECTRICAL POWER TO
MY APARTMENT CUT TWICE NOW IN A 24 HOUR PERIOD,
SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! These cunt huffing filthy bastard
enemies won't let me EVER get more than two days of rest bit from
their death fucking cunt persecution of me, and this has gone on
basically ALL COCK SUCKING YEAR NOW. I
don't buy into coincidences, so hopefully Mister Mueller will also be
very careful and keep his back to the front lines.
Just exactly why these sieges this year are so horrible, all I can
guess is that it is very bad on every
MIDTERM ELECTION FUCKING FOURTH YEAR,
as 2014 was
hell, as was 2010,
2006, and
2002, and
if I go back to 1998;
don't even get me mother fucking cunt
eating started there, Mizz
Eckert!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
had a feeling that I would take some major shit, Sheriff Mascara and
Mister Mueller, kind sirs; since the night before last, I
had MAJOR INTERACTIONS WITH THOSE SAME PROFESSOR UNDERLINGS AT THE
ASTRAL PLANE TECK BAY MYSTERY SCHOOL OF PROVINCE OLYMPIA. It
was an incredible mother fucking experience, kind sirs. I would not
have the necessary fucking cunt time to blog it all, but I was in yet
another part of this major gargantuan campus, and at first I was
having fun there and learning lots of cool stuff. But then a bully
came into the interaction and began tormenting me something fucking
ass fierce. Every time I attempted to leave by foot, or began driving
away on huge weird curved driveways, he would paste in some totally
new hallway or driveway, and made me keep coming right back to where
I originally was trying to get away from. It was what you might call
that quintessential fucking cunt nightmare, only on total fucking ass
steroids!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
parts where I was learning all sorts of cool shit were absolutely
wild and beyond fascinating. Diana Ross was there and told me that
there was nothing I could do any more than her son in can do, against
the evils of Trump
and Scott,
and Bondi,
or as I call them, “The team from
HELL”. You just watch, that bastard Trump will be
appointing his little blond flusie to be the United States Attorney
General, and with this team from hell, Mister Mueller may end up in
more mortal danger than my wonderful Sheriff, and NO
SIR SHERIFF, forgive me but I don't buy
what that fucking evil dirt bag gang just pulled, A
COINCIDENCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My
roaches are horrendous, and so are my mother fucking rotten
neighbors. For three days now, my TRIAD'S have been really
annoying the living fucking hot shit out of me. As stated, this
assault on me is very off the dial and very off the wall, and has
been all goddamn cunt lapping year long now!!!!!!!
As
for some of the wild shit that I picked up at the Astral
Plane Teck Bay Mystery School;
they had me in some kind of a 'vari-vehicle'.
It could go from one kind of a vehicle to another, at
the flick of a switch. I was suddenly at
the Callio Drawbridge, where on the mortal world, it is
the drawbridge on the Black Horse Pike, right after driving out of
Atlantic City, and into the Chelsea Heights section of Western
Atlantic City. Suddenly a gigantic magnatar
flashed in front of me, along with an
entirely new grouping of stars. Then to my right, in the
darkness; a large grouping of lightning flashes
all appeared. Then those same Underling-Professors were in my
back seat, and they were not there before the incredible brilliant
magnatar flash. By the way, Spellchecker does not have that word in
their dictionary, I assume I am spelling it correctly. Ask any good
university's Science Department to confirm what a magnatar is, and
don't think I am making anything up. The few times since this
happened, that I have talked about it on the phone, I have been
punished with harassment and persecution by HALLS
FAWCES and the TEAM FROM HELL,
or maybe said better, my OTHER
Triad problem!
Pasting and splicing reality all around seems to be a very easy trick
for these Teck Bay Astral-Academicians. This is because they know
lots of things that are quite basic as far as how to apply some light
technology to these truths, to bring about these amazing effects and
'tricks of epitomized wizardry'. I told you before that quite a few
years back, these same weird dudes along with some of their
associates, were with me, and they informed me, that
reality, and all that we human beings interact with while awake and
conscious, is nothing more than virtually infinite amounts of photons
being created by the same nuclear reality of the magical Tesla number
of THREE. Two parent electrons
where one of them imparts to the other some information, then goes
onto create one photon. This is done
more times than a billion computers could ever count, and all
inside a nano-second of time. This
creates our entire reality. Splicing and editing and
rearranging it, is child's play, once we come to understand this
truth more completely; and then simply apply the very same
principles that we do now, in our present ways in which we edit and
splice and rearrange our analogue and digital recordings. But why do
these Teck Bay Academicians keep grabbing my spirit up when I fall
asleep, and continue to tell me and show me, all of these mother
fucking inconceivable things? Maybe to anger the Project
Bluebook boys, or the HALLS FAWCES
themselves, along with the other triad gang
from fucking hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It
is 7:55 in the mother fucking cunt huffing morning now, Mister
Mueller, and Sheriff Mascara. It is 11/18/2018.
2018 has been the worst mother fucking year for me since 2016, and we
all understand why, and we all understand by now, Mountainpen's
claims of PARALLEL EVENT, and how this unholy fucking dogshit evil
technology is being applied and illegally used covertly and
stealthfully against me, and HAS BEEN NOW FOR ABOUT THREE AND A HALF
MOTHER FUCKING DECADES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Joy, joy, joy,
and boy oh boy oh boy. Yes sir/mahm, it's totally mother fucking okay
to steal everything from me, my tunes, my words, my ideas, my
inventions, my very thoughts, and then hide jokingly and cleverly
under the guise of there mother the car! Wow Margie Leo from
November-1985, gimme' a goddamn mother fucking bwake, willya, YO?
'BE
CAREFUL',
PAULA KING & ROBERT MCGUIRE, YO. Maybe Regis and I are watching
you when you least damn ass expect it. WEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
Sheriff sir, my life is beyond total toast.
Every single time, since my nightmares all started going from frying
pan intensity,
directly into FIRE-INTENSITY,
on August 15, 1986; it was all a result of ICPE-APE-TECH;
something not from this world, Mister David
Childress,
and Professor Michio
Kaku
of NYU.
Y
RUSSIA Y, AND Y JIMMY Y ALSO, FROM 1984?
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PASTED IN GOOGLE RESULTS----Global Audience By Shade Ratio:
I
was not asleep at Cifaloglio, when that mind bending chopper on
steroids, flew over, and almost landed in the property's parking
area.
Good
old Hydroglacia. She
is a very beautiful star.
A real star too, not some man-made celeb! So WOW all of that, great
Joann
and Joanna.
My kid thinks so much of this is a laugh a minute. Hey, if it makes
her happy, I
say that whatever gets her, or anyone else for that matter through
the damn long nights; is fine by me!
Yes
Almighty Nuclatron (GOD),
we know what the real deal is around here. I merely have the damn
mother ******* testicles to say stuff, BRO! Then
it turned back into the Pulsar Star,
and it rose higher and higher into the early morning sky. And then
states away, and a decade ahead in time; the fireworks never came
down on the fifth shoot up, over the lake outside of Mike Patterson's
apartment, down in Hollywood, Florida. Then
there it was, just there, the great Pulsar Star, or as I call her,
Hydroglacia!!!!!!!!!
MY BLOGS TOLD ALL OF THIS POWERFUL TRUTH LONG
BEFORE IT EVEN GOT THE SMALLEST START
IN SPACE-TIME-MIND, and
the goddamn RUSSIA FOLKS know this to be 100% the truth.
THAT,
SIR ROCKDROID ROTTENBERRY, is why
they have been reading these blogs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
know that Cooley Hall, just like dozens and dozens of other things;
were all brought here by
the EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND
SOCIETY.
They came here and they goddamn accomplished what their purpose was
all about, and
then POOF;
they
vanished,
and nobody is ever the mother fucking wiser.
Many
things in this life work that way totally automatically.
If you ain't looking for something, you'll pass right by that old
cardboard box filled with gold, or step right onto that log that's
filled with rattlesnakes. In
1969, Mister Ziggy Malyeska said it so fucking goddamn perfectly:
“That's the way it goes”!
It sure mother fucking is, old pal! All I'm fucking saying here folks
is that I was the reason for many of these things that all happened
around me, egotistical as any of you may think that this statement
makes me. It is not ego saying these things. I am not proud or
boastful in any small way to be a part of such a vicious nightmare
hell, and so let me ask any one of you reading this shit; would
you be????????????????????????
Somebody very soon is going to be super super fucking sorry for these
attacks on innocent
poor little MOUNTAINPEN!!!
Hey
if my cycle thing is a made up lie or some psych delusion, how did I
know in 1968 about Watergate Day, AKA June 17th of 1972?
How did I know about spies and all the nasty junk, secret codes, the
whole damn nine yards of today's screwed up computers and social
media? Allow me to explain this. My unconscious truer self never
forgets all of this dirty rotten **** eating mess; each time I am
back as a youth again. It is like a powerful lucid dream that stays
with you for an entire lifetime. Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy, literally,
yes I'm saying this to you boy. Well, I told
the great musical arranger, Mister Tom Glenn, that I always
wanted a female vocalist to do that song
that I had written back in 1969, called “Burn
With Fire”. He for some HALLS-FAWCES stupid-ass reason didn't
believe me. The way that he looked at me that day, over at my
place, at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments;
oh yes, I could tell!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well,
speak of not being believed, I've not even started on this doozie of
a blog, kind folks, YO!!!!!! Well, now I'll do a little TELLING,
BRAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
I
discussed very briefly, the topic of the multiplex
of groupings or factions if you will, that the ESS
is comprised of. Yes, let us all explore this a bit
further now since they endlessly want to wipe me out and persecute my
entire mother ******* **** huffing damn ass life, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
These prick eating toilet germs do not like
what I'm about to do and say on this SMD (Social-Media
Device)!!!!!!!!!! WOW THIS, Joanna-a! Me whittle mouse is weelwee
efed up, YO!!!
Back
shortly into my miserable stay here in Florida, that now is just
under nine years long,
YO; and NOT 'LING'
or 'LANG',
all damn Patty's everywhere, married to great Philadelphia
Airline Pilots, YO;
I began talking about this multi-factional group of monsters, you
know; the
different parts and pieces to these wild spirit-travelers who control
our DREAM-WORLDS and all of us in major beyond covert ways, the GAP
(EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY)
as Morianity
has given this name to these
twat sniffing monsters!!!!!!!!!!
Yes sir/mahm; this is not one tiny teensy whittle bit in my ****
licking imagination. Let's get into the meat and the heart of the
issue now, since these enemies won't ever quit ******* picking on me,
and thus, I need to IMMEDIATELY RONALD REAGAN
COUNTER-ATTACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Boy oh boy oh boy, Mister Tom
Music-daddy Glenn!!!!!!!!!!!!
To
name the majority of categories that we can place this powerful super
covert group of beyond stealthy spirit or dream travelers, we would
make our outline about like this.
1)
Education and educators.
2)
Investment houses, brokers, Wall Street.
3)
Electronics and repair shops of electronics
4)
Entertainment and basic all around MIND-CONTROL.
5)
Religions/cults/ MIND-CONTROLLING and manipulating
sociological orders and systems.
6)
Media connection systems, broadcasters, MIND-CONTROL
industries in general. Cable and digital radio and television
services, net providers and carriers, phone service carriers
and providers, and along these lines,
Space
research, satellites and all connected systems and industries,
government intelligence services, armed and non-armed forces and
agencies, and along all of these lines as well.
7)
Medical industry, especially labs and high-tech stuff pertaining to
research.
Now
as you can see, hopefully folks, this is why I chose not to get more
into all of this bull****, back earlier in this second decade of this
21st century, when I was new to Fort Pierce, and Saint
Lucie County, and Florida-U. S. A. im damn general, YO! This is not
some easy thing to be tackled in one or even a hundred and one mother
******* blogs!!!!
If
I try to tell this story too simply, I get scoffed at and jeered,
even to the point of folks like Mister
Know-It-All-Pedersen, calling me 'very
immature'. Well kind sir, you and Patricia
Hollister, YO. So WEEEEEEEEE!
But should I try to get real complex with all of this, I am called
boring, and told to break up my giant walls of text with photos and
pretty colored paragraphs and squiggly lines and other computer
office program basic and general damn crap! So as you know folks, I
really cannot win, BUTTTTTTT, I'll choose to go at this lightly,
and not get all hyper-technical, and elaborate with thousands of
fancy college words that don't really efen say a damn thing! I am
going to discuss the Educational-Faction
of this Spirit-Traveling Ultra-Covert Society, and then I'll also
tackle a wee little bit of horse dung concerning the Electronic
Faction, as I can really and truly make these things all
fit together in some really wild and weird ways that truly will efen
BLOW ALL OF YOUR MINDS, YO
BRAH!!!
I
already have gone into the things, that now will be taken a bit
further, with quite a bit more elucidated details. It was in 1984,
and I had recently been struck down in the prime of my mother *******
turd swallowing life, with some powerful
mystery illness. But without tying in Faction #7, the medical group
of them, oh wonderful and Trump-Marvelous “let's not lose
our damn jobs” here, not over worthless
little Mountainpen; Great and
Powerful (GAP) NON-OZ United States ©
Office, I indeed am unable to
make all of the wild dots connect up right now tonight on this blog,
or we'd be all goddamn night and well into tomorrow night. THAT,
I PROMISE YOU, WOMO/MO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes
folks, I took sick, out of the blue, at 10:30 at night, on the 4th
of June, of 1983; while renting a nice home at 134 Norris Avenue, in
Atco, New Jersey, USAESMWG. This much does need to be said
before I go on with tonight's horrendous mother efen tale of damn ass
woe, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I had recently returned from a trip down
to Orlando, Florida, USAESMWG, to visit the
ex-Chief Recording Engineer of the RPL Sound Studio Labs, at 1558
Pierce Avenue and 1100 State Street intersection, in the
somewhat Abdul scam (ABSCAM) globally world renown Camden, New
Jersey. Do not confuse this with Mister low-voiced UMB-SCUMB, at
Cifaloglio, PWEEEEEEEEEEEEZE!!!!
So
I had returned from Orlando on the damn Amtrak
Train, and Mister Jim Tiberius Burr, from the great PCI
Computer school, where we had met back in the early summer time of
1973, in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, USAESMWG; had picked me up
at the Thirtieth Street Train Station of
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He then proceeded to drive me back
to my apartment at 506 Robin Hill,
the second of my three stays at the now thankx2-Mountainpen, somewhat
famous ROBIN HILL APARTMENTS OF VOORHEES TOWNSHIP,
NJUSAESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The reason
that I lay down lots of foundational ground-work with all of my
nightmare true tales of woe, is so that at later times, all my
damn **** can be fully and thoroughly scrutinized by (hopefully)
eventually, some honest caring United States Federal Agents, that are
not a part of this monstrous and evil EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY. So bare with me as I seem to bear down
so hard with these same boring details. Nobody you see, could make up
something this wild and powerful. Nobody would be able to remember
this many mother ******* untruths and bold faced lies. So I do this,
and you'll just have to try to wrestle through the tedious and I
suppose the often quite unpleasant process of reading and reading
dates and times and addresses, and etcetera,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So after Jim drove down the 295 highway
after crossing over the great Walt Whitman Bridge and leaving
Philadelphia; the first thing that I remember doing after unpacking a
suitcase of a weeks worth of travel, and before Jim burr left the
apartment, was getting into another famous fight with good old MOM.
One thing led to another, and the topic of Howard down in Orlando
came up, and this was NOT A pleasant trip or a pleasant situation,
not by any means at all!!!!!!!!!! BUTTTTTTTTT, a coworker of my good
old mother, a lady by the name of Mizz Jane Davis, and a personal
friend that she had who didn't work for the 'then Lavino Shipping
Company', now called Inchcape; and whose name was Shirley Alv, wanted
to meet me the following evening to discuss my weird medical problem
that attacked me out of nowhere, back early in the previous June, as
this was now two days shy of Christmas Day in the year of 1983. Mom
told me that she also has gone and was currently a patient of a
throat specialist doctor, just around the corner from her friend
Jane. I had not yet gone to this doctor, OR DID I? I have memories of
two different time-lines as “STAR TREK, The Next Generation”
calls this anomaly of altering events that happen through a line of
time, by traveling back from some point ahead, and making some kind
of a change. Well, this is major complex, and I totally believe that
none of the greatest minds of this century, not as yet anyway, fully
understand some stuff the way that I do, because
of the simple fact that I have personally experienced some beyond
outlandish bull**** involving these damn things, and as a result of
directly interacting with what else, but the great and powerful
non-Oz, non-(C) Office, ESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But saying a whole
lot more right now would also require me to go
on about ten thousand words at a minimum, or nothing
that I do plan to say on this blog would make sense, because it
would all become so confusing. We all have heard that great
and somewhat magical saying that “a little
knowledge can be far worse THAN NO KNOWLEDGE AT ALL”.
My
mother and I, and not the KING,
well, not yet anyway, back when we lived in Atco, and were
renting the home owned by the owner of the Jackson Road L&S
Nursing Home, a Mister Jerry Pliner; from February 1, 1983, through
the middle of October of 1983, on Norris Avenue; would meet after my
Mom and her coworker, Mizz Jane Davis,
got off work, and we all would meet up at a Mount Laurel, New Jersey,
USAESMWG, bus terminal, and take casino tour bus rides, down to the
Atlantic City casinos. Originally, one time,
her friend Shirley Alv was with them, and I got talking to her about
the game of roulette, and about many wild strategies that my pal Jim
Burr and myself, had been fooling with, to try and defeat the legally
built in negative advantage, or 'VIG' that is built into this game.
I was telling her how cycles were behind all things in the entire
universe. I was even able to demonstrate how this worked, in a
non-roulette situation, when we went into one of the cafeteria areas
of the particular casino that our tour bus had taken all of us to. I
will not bore any of you with specifics; even though they do indeed
pertain to many powerful things, since time, and your attention as my
Blogaudians, just won't permit this; not right now on this blog. But
I do need to say this: Shirley almost
crapped in her dress, when I showed
her this wild thing. She then told me that it explains some big ****
in her personal life, in ways that
nothing else ever have or ever could. This is not an
absolute quote, but it is a paraphrase, and folks, I promise you
that!!!!!!!!!!! She told me that once she had a very weird television
set. Right away as she started to tell this to
me, I began thinking to myself, oh boy, this is sounding a little bit
like that “Twilight Zone”
sixties B&W Television show, of course all I ever knew
until a couple of years ago, due to extreme poverty all of my damn
life, was indeed B&W-TV. But that episode where the man murders
his wife, and the TV show on CHANNEL-10 up in New York City, as they
don't get a channel 10 or not in the sixties they didn't, but this
channel was showing this man, events that had not yet occurred. Each
time he would see things on his TV-set, a short time later, he
actually was engaging in these things with his wife, in his New York
City apartment, where they were living. That gorgeous actress played
an older woman, I cannot remember her name, but she was to quote my
mom, “old Hollywood”, and I've picked up this expression myself.
Now this strange TV-Repairman had just repaired this taxi-driver
guy's TV-set. He wasn't happy with the service or the price, and he
gave this repair dude a real earful. This magic little fellow winked
at him and said something, I don't remember it now verbatim. So this
repair guy somehow did this magic trick to his television set. It
really was, as just about all of those great Rod Serling TTZ shows
are, really fantastic. Still, I remember as Shirley was rattling on
with her personal experience with this TV set of hers, and
'her-TV-repairman-experience', that this is right out of that 'TTZ'
television show. Only as she progressed along with her story, and we
were munching on a candy bar or some similar such item, in this
casino lounge and eats area; the story shifted
quite rapidly and took a beyond TWILIGHT ZONE TURN, into what I might
only now be able to attempt to describe as THE TWILIGHT ZONE ON
STEROIDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As I stated twice now, I promise that
I'll be way more detailed on future blogs, as to why this television
set, her repairman, and my medical condition of June the 4th
back in the prior year of 1983, all ties together in super connected
powerful red dots, and in fact, it WILL most likely, cross
me way over that DO NOT RED LINE, that you all know quite
well, I need to endlessly be concerned with, YO!!!
It
was several months later, and one week after my trip with the
(one-way only memory), to the great Throat-Dock. It was early spring
somewhere, in 1984, and I was about three months away from moving out
of 506 Robin Hill Apartments, and into 1406 Highland Avenue, in
Cinnaminson, New Jersey, to a rental home that was owned by the
family next to it at, 1408, a Mister Lowell Patterson; back in middle
July of 1984. This is where I was to reside until April the 1st
back in 1985, when I moved for the first of two stays that were
roughly a decade apart; into Williamstown, New
Jersey, to an apartment called the Highview Apartments, on
Sicklerville Road and Kent Road Intersection! I will quickly
open with the super part of coworker Shirley's wild tale, as it
connects with me, and it WILL blow your minds,
so beware, all Joe Paget's out here! She loved her TV like a
pet cat or dog, because it was given to her for a birthday present on
her thirty-fifth birthday. Within a year of this gift being given,
her husband whom she loved and adored like a TV-romance on a soap,
and no TV-PUN was intended here folks, but her hubby was diagnosed
with a very aggressive form of gut cancer, and he died very shortly
after being diagnosed, and all of this was quite devastating to her.
But she had few things around her Philadelphia home that were
special, and that reminded her of her man. This television set WAS
ONE OF THOSE FEW ITEMS. To hear her tell it, she had a little bit of
jewelry and a watch, and a couple pieces of clothes, AND THIS TV SET!
Well, as if bull**** doesn't strike all of us, I suppose, in one way
or another; her set broke. She went to turn it on, and it was silent
and dark. No picture, no sound,and to quote the great recording
artist of all times, from Motown, Mizz Diana
Ross, born Diane Ross, in the Brewster Projects of
Detroit, Michigan, USAESMWG, when she called me, and hollered this
over my phone, “I DON'T NEED THIS, NO HOW, NO
NOTHING”!!!!!!!!!!! So the very same day that this happened,
as she told me it was on a Saturday, and in Northeast Philly back in
the early nineteen-eighties, her neighborhood repair shops and many
many places, all were open for business all day long, on Saturdays!
She was quite emphatic when she told me this, and I still remember
this very clearly and can see the expression on her face, right
inside my mind as I sit in here pounding on my little black keyboard
keys, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Her neighbor was a big burly dude who lived
downstairs in her two unit apartment system and he helped her take
this TV-set in his truck. Over to a repair shop a couple of blocks
away. For three solid months, these repair people messed with her.
They never fixed the set. They kept it at their shop all taken apart.
They kept telling her that it would be done tomorrow or next week, or
the next, or the next, and this went on and on and on! Finally after
three solid months, she and her downstairs nabe went over to the
shop. They had put the set back together as if they somehow knew she
was coming over. They told her to just take it and there was no
charge. She asked why they had done this to her, and this nabe who
was with her witnessed it, she said to me, in that casino eats-area.
I will never stop seeing this crazy and upset expression that came
over her as she told me this tale of total horror. After she stood
there with this nabe dude for maybe five minutes, asking why-why-why
won't you fix my damn set, the owner walked into the shop and had
been out on a repair call. His exact words to her were, “We think
that you're the devil. Please take this set and get out of this
shop”. Now you ain't heard dog squat squared yet folks. It was
about two months after this event all went down, since she told me
that this final thing that had happened in the repair shop was last
week, so I am just adding in the time from there. So it is about a
month now, before I moved out of there, and into the home on Highland
Avenue, in Cinnaminson. Not only during that time, did I have a very
similar experience with a repair shop where I had been forced to
leave my automobile since it was a Texaco right there near to where
it had broken down and overheated, and for a solid month, I too was
getting this same treatment, and even worse things happened
eventually, that I won't get into right now. After I resolved this
nightmare with my car, that was a total freaking carbon copy of
Shirley Alva's TV nightmare hell, my damn TV set began to get snowy,
and then no picture. I did have sound, unlike Shirley's problem, but
who cares about sound? TV is about a picture! I moved into the home
and had maybe three weeks before this happened. I took my TV to a
place in Haddon Heights, New Jersey, USAESMWG, right near where my
old pal who sang on my two country demo-tunes grew up, Bob Andrews,
who became a United States Congressman. The name of this nightmare
hellhole TV-Repair place was the A&B TV-REPAIR, on Station
Avenue. These **** sucking bastards did to me, the very precise and
exact thing that was done to Shirley Alv. This went on for maybe six
to eight weeks. Finally, I drove over to the place, as I wasn't in a
big hurry, since my landlord, mister Lowell Patterson, allowed me to
use a spare TV set that belonged to his daughter Laura, who was back
in College, and was only home during the summer time. It wasn't a
great set by any means, but I had TV. So after six to eight weeks
somewhere, I drove over to this total jerk off A&B Repair Shop.
They said to me, “Take your TV set, no
charge. We think you're the devil
and we don't want you in here”! I
mother ******* thought that I literally was going to take a **** in
my pants, and then turn around and eat it! There is no
possible way that all of this could have happened, outside the truth
of the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY!!!!!!!!
But
you STILL AIN'T HEARD DOG**** YET, my peeps; so take a
chapter out of that CAT-RADIO playbook, up there in Jersey, near the
damn SHORE MALL; and “GRAB YOUR TAIL, AND
HOLD ON”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean it, if you're not
ready for a real shocker body slam that will send you flying to the
efen floor unless you're absolutely soulless, STOP READING THIS BLOG,
at least until you freaking get yourself a damn coffee break or
something, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
After
I lived down here in Fort Pierce, Florida for about three years;
I had several old VCR machines that I purchased
for about twelve bucks each, at my local Goodwill Store, at
the Virginia Avenue Shopping Mall, about a mile to my south, along
Federal Highway US-1, where the Publix Grocery
Store also is, and I do my food shopping, or about 90+% of it.
As time went by, to quote the very old song now, one by one, these
machines became defective. Two local county electronic repair shops
were recommended to me, by folks that I knew in various circles that
I now move in, such as medical, or social services, as an older
United States Senior Citizen, who now will be turning age 64 years on
the fourth of December, three months away now. I ain't no damn ass
spring chicken, kind folks, YO YO YO YO YO! I will not bore you with
the damn details, but taking memory to Shirley's story, and mine from
just a short time afterward, here is the abridged and compressed
version. In the years of 2014, 2015, and 2016, the repair shop down
on Route 1 (Federal Highway US-1), in Port Saint Lucie at the mall
down there, about five miles or maybe a wee bit more to my south, the
dude who owned the place did the very same thing, and eventually when
I showed up at his place, he told me that I was some evil person, and
why would I bring him a machine that I obviously poured oil inside of
it all over the damn place? I never did any such thing, and he
charged me money, and screwed me, Sheriff Mascara. But the other
place was far worse. They did much worse to me. They ruined two
great machines that I took over, and continued to put me off for
months, and when I went over, they tried to charge me, and then just
ripped off the machines. This horrible place, you most likely know
of, Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara, kind sir, the
Sizemore Repair place, on Delaware Avenue, just a quarter
mile down the road from my Public freaking Housing Building, YO sir.
I'll be telling you all of this in person NEXT
WEEK AT YOUR MIDWAY ROAD office, KIND SHERIFF, SIR, YO YO YO!
Then
what Larry ASSWIPE Lee,
my Insurance Agent, did to me,
over at the goddamn State Farm
OFFICE; when I've been nothing but a totally law-abiding
citizen, and faithful freaking customer of State Farm, and handing
them about eight thousand bucks with my premiums, since arriving down
here in your lovely lovely county; KIND SIR, SHERIFF!!!!! YESSIR KIND
SHERIFF, we need to have a real serious talk about what these
“people”, the Exploratronic
Supermind society, is DOING TO ME. THEY'RE
******* TOTALLY KILLING ME, KIND SHERIFF, SIR! DON'T YOU
GODDAMN CARE AT ALL, YO YO YO YO YO YO????????? That mother *******
secretary who sits at the desk, and you can goddamn lie detector me
anytime you want to Sheriff sir, she told me back last summer, “Larry
was up there with Rick Scott, you know the powerful people”, and
then she half winked at me, and I
could absolutely see it in her eyes, as she WANTED TO
TELL ME MORE, BUT SHE COULD NOT, KIND SIR, KJM! Are you ONE OF THEM
TOO, SIR??????????????? But there still is tons and tons of more and
more **** kind Sheriff, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Let
me now move this out of the Financial Factions
and the Electronic Factions of the EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY,
and move into the really big one, the EDUCATIONAL
DAMN FACTION; as this gets more than beyond absurdly
serious, Sheriff Mascara, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A powerful special
DEAL was made with me back when I was in my final days and weeks of
the special-education place where I was attending school, at the
Cooley Hall High Hell, on Hopkins Lane, in world famous Haddonfield,
New Jersey, on the also quite famous KINGS
HIGHWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My mother was told that I was being
given a regular HIGH SCHOOL DIPLOMA from the high school where I
would be attending if not at this special-ed place for exceptional
types of children, provided that I could pass the GED-TEST or
whatever that thing is called that allows those who never graduate a
real high school to obtain what is called a “High School
Equivalency” degree/diploma, whatever the damn thing is called. I
do not know as I do not have one. I HAVE THE REAL MCCOY. I actually
have a High School Diploma from the West Collingswood High School, on
West Collings Avenue, in Collingswood, New Jersey, USAESMWG! I do not
know anybody who was ever ever ever ever ever ever made that deal,
and I am including rock stars, politicians, and many other big time
name-recognized persons, YO. Again Sheriff, come on over and visit
with me anytime, and I will show you my diploma, and I am more than
willing to be hooked up to multiple lie detector tests anywhere and
any time you wish for me to do so!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nothing in this damn Morianity story is fake or false, like our damn
president!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
why did this DEAL get made with me? Well, Sidney Crown knew just a
tiny whittle bit of this super nasty truth regarding all of tis very
ugly mega-mess, and its absolute and filthy rotten connections in and
through the great mighty and powerful or maybe even the all-powerful
“EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY”!!!!!!!!!! And yes, others too
know, and I think now looking back in clearer
hindsight and truer retrospect, even Lenny McKinnon has put those
powerful and deadly dangerous two and twos together, and have spelled
out the name of Richard Lennon Marcucci. Now why these damn
Type-3-Exploratrons want to be doing all of this, well, you're asking
the wrong freaking person here, YO? If I knew, by the gods, I'd tell
you, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! pweeeeeeeze believe me kind folks, and Sheriff
KJM kind sir, I haven't even begun, to quote the great and late
recording artist, Mizz Karen Carpenter, telling the real powerful
**** that lays extremely deep underneath all of these horrible creepy
dark corners of HELLFIRE to the damn ninth power,
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mister
Marcucci knew all about a daughter that wasn't even BORN YET,
Sheriff Mascara sir. Now let me ask you a question, kind sir! If it
was brought to your attention, that one of the teachers in your
county right now, took a student outside of his classroom, and said
the following thing to him, straight and bold faced, “You know
Mark, you could be a father, chronologically”? I mean let me put it
to you in a slightly revised query, my kind wonderful Sheriff sir?
How in the name of all that is holy and unholy,
and in the name of all of the Astral-Plane Gods and Goddesses, could
he have possibly known about what Patty H did to me a few months
earlier, underneath the Central Pier of Saint James Place, in
Atlantic City, unless he is ONE OF THEM? Being one of them,
and for reasons that elude even wild claim making Mountainpen, WHY
start a musical group all the damn way across the Queens freaking
POND, just to come over to my school, be my teacher for nearly ten
months, and then shortly after I tell Lenny the great 1980 record
promoter a little bit about all of this over my FBI-bugged telephone,
at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments; did the damn powerful other faction of
the great demonic ESS and AKA the CIA, decide to get rid of the poor
bastard, SIR????????? WOW THIS, YO!
Boy
oh boy oh boy oh boy. The best that I can ever hope for anymore is
one or maybe that freaking occasional two day period of some relative
peace. It is so damn unfair. Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy. Boy
oh boy oh boy oh boy. Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy. Boy oh boy oh boy oh
boy. Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy. Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy.
Why
did Patricia
Hollister
want me to get my hands on that information, that was in her
possession, and at her work desk at that job, she was working back
then? Why was Misses
Marola at
Cooley Hall, totally hellbent, on my doing that Memorial Day of 1969
school play? These things and zillions more just like them; are
because the ESS wanted
certain things to happen in this exact universe.
They
have all sorts of bases in many parallel worlds, and this is just one
of them.
None of you seem to have a tiny clue what life is like, when
you are living in it,
FIFTH
DIMENSIONALLY.
Words will definitely NOT do it justice, and
that much I can promise.
Still, why? Well, endlessness!!!! Still, why do they do exactly what
they do, or said better, why
did they do all of these exact and precise things to me, Mark
Wayne
Mountainpen
Huntington
Mohr?
The only way to ever really know, is for me to open up a laboratory
eventually, and get transfused once a week with teenaged blood; so
that I can turn my biological clock back,
and have all the time that I need, right
here in this present physical lifetime;
and to get to the mother fucking bottom of these great questions,
spewing right out of the mouth-gates of HELL
ITSELF, AKA DOGTOWN, OLYMPIA.
Let
me offer one huge piece of fucking information for anyone smart
enough to be up here reading these goddamn words, and being able to
at least let some of this damn ass shit sink in. As I speak type, a
MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING RIGHT SIDE DEATH ANGEL ATTACK
IS STRIKING ME AT CUNT CHEWING 8:48
A.M.
This is one of the worst ones in months and months, ya' see peeps;
this all goes and fits together, and tells a larger story. Remember
how I fucking told you all,
that this is designed
directly into the mother fucking LAWTRONIC-CIRCUITRY
of the Purgatory
System?
When enemies are
plotting to hurt or kill you, and you are able to hear this sound
that Weldon Saunders calls “THE DEATH ANGEL”, then that is when
you do!!!!
WOW
was that a major fucking assault,
Sheriff
Mascara sir,
and Mister
FBI-PROBE-MUELLER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If I weren't in such a mother fucking putrid garbage shitty mood
right now; I might just add in, “AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MISTER MIKE
1971 MCNULTY,
YO YO YO YO YO”!!!!
That
huge bit of information is about Count Von Mister Marcucci, also of
the great mysterious COOLEY HALL. You all know how my mother and him
absolutely knew shit about what mom's wonderful coworker did to me
underneath the Central Pier on the first week in July of 1969. You
know how my mom would get all pissed off at me in the nineties and
shout at her famous lines of “Mark, How would you like it if your
daughter said or did such and such”, whatever it was that I had
just said or done, that she perceived as such a gigantic fucking
injustice. You know how Count Richard Lennon Voncucci took me out
into the hallway just beyond his classroom in late October of 1969
and told me that “I could be a father, chronologically”. Then a
decade after that, I told record promoter Mister Lenny McKinnon, over
the telephone, that “I would get the Beatles for him if he would
stop upsetting me”. After these things all became history and time
moved forward, first came various punishments for me as well as
others. Lenny did a Sarah, and vanished into the misty mystery
moonlight early in 1981. A year later, Debbie Harry Blondie's pal,
Mizz Trash-bunny moved underneath me, and made me so crazy that I was
forced to move out of 1802 Robin Hill in about a year, and then half
a year after doing that, I was struck down with some unknown and
totally fucking mysterious medical condition, that I still have to
this very mother fucking cock sucking day, YO!!!! Then a couple of
years after that, I ended up in that Permission-Barrier parallel
universe where I
live at the Round house Manor of Egg Harbor, New Jersey;
with Patty,
Merry,
and Pee,
and own a very successful real estate and land management company,
called “STARBURN
OUTREACH DEVELOPMENT, INCORPORATED”,
or SODI
for a shortened abbreviation.
If you
don't think that there
is a story so huge in all of these things,
connecting COOLEY
HALL, THE
WATERGATE
BREAK-IN, and so
much more; well then,
you really are absolutely
and quintessentially naïve;
me kind
folks!!!!!!!!!!!!
There is no way that time will allow me to even open it all up right
now, but know this folks, IT'S FUCKING CUNT COMING, AND IT'S COMING
BIG HYPER-TIME, YO YO YO YO YO!
What
you need to be started with, before MORIANITY can ever even begin
going successfully into its 2.0 parts, so to speak; is lots and lots
of continuing rote-foundation, into the characters involved, and how
much power they now all have in this world, and just how powerless
and defenseless I am on top of that, as well as understand some of
the possible and potential reasoning behind it all, and even if it is
not reason or logic the way we human beings would perceive those
words, it does indeed make total and perfect sense to
the PURGATITES
who are carrying this all out on the waking human plane of existence,
through and by way of (via) the great, powerful, terrifying, and
awesome, EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY!!!!
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2015
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2018
THERE
IS NO WAY TOM REALE IN JULY OF 1970,
WOULD HAVE BEEN THAT UPSET, THAT NIGHT OF THE FIREWORKS; IF
HE WAS NOT ALL PART OF WHAT HAPPENED THE YEAR BEFORE THAT;
AND WAS NOT ALSO A MEMBER OF THE (GAP-ESS) OR THE 'GREAT
AND POWERFUL EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I know, old news, but if you had this all go down in your life at
fourteen and fifteen, you'd want to say it over and over and over
again too!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IPYT.
I
would be kidding the population of the world if I did not tell you
that I am one totally mother loving urinated off person right about
now.
This
is a total now of three blogs, this one and the past two; my
great marvelous wonderful Federal Bureau of Investigation,
and my pal Mister Mueller; HACKERS
ARE STARTING TO SCREW
WITH
MY COMPUTER AGAIN, after a nice whittle back off for a while,
so whatever you and me local whittle sheriff were doing; I'll be
needing challs to start doing it again, YO, and many many TANKS,
so KABOOM!!!
I
was just mother loving MIND HACKED. This evil filth got right inside
my head and screwed with me when I attempted to print the word “two”.
As many might remember, Mister Mueller and Sheriff Mascara, and FBI
and ex-landlord Agent Steve Caruso who owned the Hammonton property
next to the blueberry fields back when I lived there with the goddamn
KING-FAMILY in 2009, and on the laptop machine owned by Mister Edward
'Himacane' Lynch, many words would indeed be screwed with over and
over such as 'USE' and 'SUE', AND 'TWO'
and 'TOW'. There were others, butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT,
for some reason, THOSE TWO
SPRING INTO MY MIND, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!
Hey,
I don't totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. Hey, I don't
totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. Hey, I don't
totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. Hey, I don't
totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. Hey, I don't
totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. Hey, I don't
totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. Hey, I don't
totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. Hey, I don't
totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. Hey, I don't
totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. Hey, I don't
totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. Hey, I don't
totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. Hey, I don't
totally know who is doing all of these things to me,
butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT how bouts
you and me try exploring and poking around a little. THE KINGS and MY
OWN FAMILY, well BIG-O, I guess you and all of them decided to take
my 1983 Atco, New Jersey freaking song quite seriously, huh big girl?
You know, OWN the land, rather than sweep the freaking
sand!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh boy, I suppose that there are many
things that can be done at the seashore, from reading children's
books, to sand sweeping, to gambling; providing this is done at the
seashore called ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA,
EARTH, SOL, MILKY WAY GALAXY. Whatever your first level bet is, or
your (initial bet), you play the multiples of number '5'. This would
be 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, and 35. Your
second level bets are five times as much as your first. Your third
level bets are twice as much as your second. Your fourth level bets
are five times as much as your third. All things considered, we all
have virtually unlimited possibilities for doing all sorts of things.
BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT,
not all of them are non-hazardous to the health, such as Race Horse
Superman Joey and Greengrass County, with ALL great riflemen, and not
just those on the ME-CHANNEL, YO, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!! My
freaking jerk cough enemies just froze up my come puke her, AGAIN. I
am UNDER SOME SERIOUS DEATH SIEGE AGAIN, SHERIFF KEN MASCARA. My
blood and my murder in YOUR COUNTY, will be on YOUR hands.
I was struck with a crash level helicopter assault right over my
building yesterday morning somewhere aro0und nine of the clock, sir.
If it was you, fine. If it was enemies, I am just letting you and
Mister FBI Mueller know about it, as I know you both are following my
blogs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes,
THINGS ARE GETTING QUITE DANGEROUS FOR ME AROUND HERE, MISTER JIMMY
OLSON! Boy oh boy oh boy, do we both need freaking SUPERMAN, or maybe
Stan Lee. Well Patricia Hollister; CANDLES PLEASE. TANKS OH WONDERFUL
AND MARVELOUS KNOW-IT-ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When
I told the record promoter, Lenny McKinnon, that I could produce the
Beatles for him if that would get him off my back, things began to
get, to quote that great old fifties Superman television show about
the racehorse, “dangerous around here”, for me. If you know
anything about the sixties and the political system of that day, you
would just maybe see, in light of all of my Morianity; just how
incredible this plot is, and how stuff totally all ties together, in
ways so outlandish and unfathomable, that no words could ever hope to
give any of this one bit of true justice!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
will delve into it as November progresses along, as this is very
effen necessary!!!!!!!! The odds of McDowell becoming a top man in
the government, after Daniel Mackey told him that someday he would
grow up and be a man, and he did, but the odds of all of these people
from COOLEY HALL, all becoming big shots with a dark hidden past, are
somewhere, and get this, around 372 quatorodecillion to one against
it being possible. Want to see that number? Fine.
372,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.
Doubt me? Go to any mathematical department at any good university,
and see if I am lying here, peeps!
Well,
the big story on Action-News as they used to say up there in freaking
great old Philadelphia, PA-USAESMWG, is that I am not the only person
who is aware of the great plans that I'll CODENAME from now on during
continuing blogs, Operation Teddy Cooley.
This entity has not yet been born, and won't be until early in 2025,
and it is one abortion I wish that I could personally perform. Yes,
it stands for Trump's Coup! It
seems several other people right here in my own town know this very
same thing, so it is no secret. I don't even need to remind Mister
Mueller about the Watergate Connections and how this time, things
have been totally planned to avoid having our system of checks and
balances, be permitted to work and protect us from the end of the
free and wonderful USA. I know the FBI is
protecting me, since my computer is not trying to crash every minute
now, thanx-boys. Tell Mister
Wolf
that Mountainpen loves his new show!
You
almost got me Mizz Jane Dirtweeds Sleazedisease Flubslub, but you
missed me, HA-HA-HA-HA, AND AHA-AHA-AHA 2U2 Mister Mike 1971 McNulty,
sir, WHAAAAA!!!!!
Now
for what Mister Mueller and Sheriff KJM need to know on this
BLOG-UPDATE-REPORT that they can freely check out and verify for
themselves, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!! In May I went to my
Insurance Agent, Larry Lee, and shared with him a tiny fraction of an
idea that is so fantastic, there are simply no words to even begin
explaining all of the connections and ramifications involved. It is
every bit as big if not even bigger than the INTERNET! My high school
GC (Guidance Counselor), Mister Jockamini, or Mister 'J' for short,
was major freaking ass instrumental in all of the things that are
happening all around us and the entire world today. I told him about
the Watergate story for the most part, just slightly ever so
scrambled up, almost half a decade before it happened. We will get
into the incredible specifics as we move along between now and the
freaking Christmas Holidays, but for right now, “What can I say”?
I mean really, Cooley, really JAY-JAY
Evans? JUNE and JOCKAMINI?
Gimme' a bwake here, Mizz Margy Leo of 1985! JAY JAY, COOLEY HIGH,
talk about the quintessential HIGH HELL of DOGTOWN,
OLYMPIA, mortals would use the word of
[[[[{{{(('HELL'))}}}]]]]. Still folks, I
went to Cooley Hall from February of 1969 through January of 1973,
and then a year or two later, came COOLEY HIGH, and along with that,
KID-DY-NO-MITE JAY JAY and GOOD TIMES. Hey, this ain't been GOOD
TIMES FOR ME, JUNE JOCKAMINI, YO!!!!!!!!!
Here
is the big story now on the ACTION-NEWS. Not only are a
few people local to me onto the horrendous and monstrous Teddy
Cooley, butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT;
they are onto the fact that the early July
inspection from the Housing Authority
was just a plot to get to my kitchen sink and CAUSE
ME A MAJOR PROBLEM, nice and slowly!!!! NOW
THIS WAS REPAIRED TODAY, SHERIFF KJM AND MISTER MUELLER, KIND SIRS;
BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT; this was
INTENTIONALLY DONE TO ME FOR THE MID-TERM ELECTIONS, and this
is no different than what has been done to me now for three and a
half solid decades; kind sirs. USING
APPLIED
AND INTENTIONALLY CREATED
PARALLEL EVENT
AGAINST ME, HURTING ME TO GET
THEIR WAY, ENDLESSLY
AND CRIMINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
All day long, the TELEPHONE HARASSMENT HAS
BEEN EXTREMELY BAD ALSO, KIND SIRS. IT IS ONE
CALL AFTER ANOTHER, ON BOTH MY LITTLE GOVERNMENT
CELL PHONE AS WELL AS MY COMCAST LANDLINE HOUSEPHONE, ALL FREAKING
DAY LONG SINCE NINE THIS MORNING, THE SAME TIME AS YESTERDAY'S
FREAKING CHOPPER ASSAULT ON ME,
here at my building!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And
then Mister Mueller sir; you
wonder why the Russians are so goddamn interested in these blogs,
for years and years, kind sir?
NONE
OF
THIS
TAKES
ANY ROCKET
SCIENCE!
AS
OF NOVEMBER 21, 2015
Global Audience In Shade Ratio Popularity:
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Brigadoon
and Cooley Hall. Where to even begin
discussing an elaborated version of the information that the
Mountainpen has released so far, in just under thirteen years of blog
texts? The younger generation says it perfectly and I'll quote them,
“like WOW”!
Death
appears to be having some weird type of a problem, holding
me.
Just going back to my years living at Jenny Plageman's trailer park
in Mullica Township, New Jersey, USAESMWG, there are two major
incidences where I
absolutely know that I was dead,
kaput, lights out, done, fine', over, etcetera! One was at my job,
the night after Christmas of 2005, guarding a place called CIFALOGLIO
and the other was inside my trailer with my door open, and lightning
was all over me, and ended up striking my porch and burning a section
of it off, and frying my telephone as well as my caller-ID-Box, while
I was on the phone and telling Diana, (Lightning) how beautiful she
is and how much I love and need her around me, and called her a pet
name that makes her wild and crazy, “Baby-Blond”. Now before
you go off and say 'just how does this fit or connect into in any
way, Cooley Hall and Brigadoon';
well, you'll just have to persevere and bear with me for quite a
while, until eventually, things will become totally clear and
succinct. IPYT. The connections are quite major, and of course they
have to do with the one and only mother loving EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY. Let me ask you this. How many of freaking you out
there could handle the hellish nightmare crapola that is being done
to me, FOR JUST ONE YEAR, be freaking ass honest now kind peeps? None
of you. And I have survived through this rock chucking snotty spit
for decades and decades. Anyone who tells me this is a lie, YOU ARE
the bunt tapping liar, NOT ME, LONNIE JACKSON, NOT
ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now there's an
old Earth expression used in dozens of various languages, that goes,
“What I have survived and endured, just makes me stronger”. THIS
IS AS ABSOLUTE AND CONSTANT AS THE GODDAMN SPEED OF
LIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If I was not the CHOSEN HUNTINGTON,
not only would I not have possibly survived all of their monstrous
wicked viciousness and hellfire, but I would have been tossed six
feet below the mud a very long time freaking ago, and you all know
this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There
was the Williamstown WAWA. There was the Annapolis Avenue drowning.
There was the cop car crash of Woodbury. There was the time at the
Carriage Lamp Apartments that later changed to the New York
Apartments, where I stuck a walkie-talkie antenna directly into a
220-volt outlet, thinking that it was an antenna. There was the
massive fatal heart attack at Cifaloglio. There was the lightning
strike at Jenny's Trailer Park. And I could
literally keep
right on going and going and going and going,
just like a mother loving Copper-top Battery.
This is another reason why the powers and forces watch me, to
see just why I don't die,
to put it plainly and without any collegiate verbiage or wordsmith
eloquence. The Holy Spirit watches me very closely, (lightning). SHE
doesn't like what's being done to HER 'Little Boy', as SHE calls me.
So the world has their share of 'situations', since these assaults
began to strike around me and at me, in that misty weird unclear time
period that ranges somewhere in-between 1983 and 1986. This is why
the major disasters all over the globe since then, HAVE ALSO BEEN ON
SUCH A STEADY RISE, and the more this hellishness is poured on me,
the WORSE THE WORLD IS GONNA' FREAKING GET, AND IPYT, PEEPS, YO YO YO
YO BRAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Is
any of this mother fucking shit real, and not a Millie Vinnilli
Amelia Bedellia double bubble rip off non techno-pop steak???????????
WOW!!!!”
Even
mother freaking honest George may agree with me on that little bit of
crapola! But whether he does or doesn't, I am getting some
CRASH-LEVEL AIRPLANES flying around my apartment building, agent
Mueller and Sheriff Mascara, at about ten minutes before mother
fucking ten on this cunt chewing Sunday night on November Karge-Third
18, of 2018, YO!!!!!!! Let's hope we don't have another fucking World
Trade Center and 9-11, here in fort Pierce!!!!!!!!!
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2015
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2018
THERE
IS NO WAY TOM REALE IN JULY OF 1970,
WOULD HAVE BEEN THAT UPSET, THAT NIGHT OF THE FIREWORKS; IF
HE WAS NOT ALL PART OF WHAT HAPPENED THE YEAR BEFORE THAT;
AND WAS NOT ALSO A MEMBER OF THE (GAP-ESS) OR THE 'GREAT
AND POWERFUL EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I know, old news, but if you had this all go down in your life at
fourteen and fifteen, you'd want to say it over and over and over
again too!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IPYT.
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I
know why my blog is dying. It is the same reason the sun appears to
go around the Earth and until well past the eleven o'clock and the
world will always be flat while on it, and so many other great
powerful illusion of reversal-reality. The very thing I have done
thinking it would grow my blog, has made it die. WOW, and I don't
look on TV, STEVE!!!!!!!!!!! Brains over brawn; hopefully, Mister H.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
DID
YOU JUST FUCKING SAY ''AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA TO ME, MISTER MIKE
MCNULTY?????
Yes
Cuzz Don, they only seek after our respect, NOT
YOUR LUST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
|
|
FOOD
PUKE FRIDAY DAY HERE AT PHA.
LOTS OF YELLING, AND YELPING FUCKING DOGS, AND SCREAMING OUT IN THE
DAM HALLWAY!
WHERE
ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU, LOVELY PAM BONDI, FLORIDA STATE ATTORNEY
GENERAL. HAVE ALL LIBERTIES AND CIVIL RIGHTS VANISHED INTO POTTER
COFFERFIELD BLAINES STINKING MAGIC HAT?????????????????????????
She
is putting huge knives into your belly, Mark Huntington, that's
where!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Every
mother fucking time for the past 5 months since this DOUBLE FUCKING
TECHNO-POOP SHIT, FUCKED UP MY CUNT SWALLOWING LIFE, ON AUGUST 28,
2013; THEY
PERSECUTE,
THEN
THE NEXT 3 WEEKS IS UP AND UP AND UP AND UP, SO WATCH IT GO STRAIGHT
TO FUCKING 17, 18, 19, 20 THOUSAND
CUNT SUCKING POINTS NOW, AND AS ALWAYS; RIGHT
ON MY AGONIZED BACK, TORTURE AND TORMENT THEY CAUSE ME AND GET SCOTT
FUCKING CUNT AWAY WITH IT,
AND HAVE, SINCE ANOTHER FAMOUS FUCKING AUGUST, QUITE SOME TIME AGO;
AND YESTERDAY TO MOTHER FUCKING ASS POOR LITTLE PATHETIC ME, YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Watch
the market FLY the rest of the week, the damage is done!
I
WOULD B FREE 2 ESCAPE THIS FUCKING
HOUSE
OF FUCKING HORRORS.
I was actually happy 4 one hour, but Diana was not through warning me
yet. I was on the porch with Ann, and a huge orange lightning bolt
landed right in the back yard making a crashing sound louder than
anything I can remember. Ann King Silva jumped 200 miles. I thought
this was Diana telling me, Mark, your hell is over, this evil bitch
is in prison and out of your hair. But an hour later, the phone rang,
it seems they never took her 2 the County where if they had, she
would have remained there until her Probation Officer John Judy could
violate her and make her complete her prison term, buying me the time
2 properly organize moving my personal things that mean everything 2
me or Ida fucking left this hell long ago, and get them safely into
storage. Then I could just run 2 another state far away and start
over, later trucking my stuff 2 my new place over time. Without
me, Dawn cannot survive, I am her total punching bag, slave, and
endless driver,
me the one who always hated 2 fucking drive and wanted 2B rich as a
boy so I could B THE FUCKING ONE WITH THE FUCKING chauffeur, or
however the hell U spell the fucking word. The forces can read minds,
I know that. They absolutely knew that I had psyched myself up 2
pretend 2 go into work Saturday night and relieve the other security
officer, and an hour later, disappear in the fucking night forever.
I
was having totally other issues then, with
HALLS
FAWCES!!!!!
This is Y when I went home Saturday morning, they disturbed my mental
balance, got me 2 relax, and then bang, one hour later, MARK, pick me
up, I’m outside the local town jail, SCREAMS
DAWN.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Original five blogs:
On Blogger since
January 2006
Profile views - 2893
My blogs:
UNTRUE
UNIVERSE HOPPER MARK???????
YEAH,
SPREAD THAT FUCKING ROTTEN LIE AROUND, AND MAYBE I WILL GET A PIZZA
DELIVERY JOB ON THE SIDE, VICTORIA WINTERS
FAMILY BIBLE GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
indeed folks, just where have all of the
TRUTH-PATRIOTS
all gone to, and when will
any of us ever learn anything??????????????????
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR AND HIS BLOGS FROM (BOM) BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
2006-2018
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alert-------red alert-------red alert-------red alert:
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alert-------red alert-------red alert-------red alert:
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alert-------red alert-------red alert-------red alert:
Oh
and don't let me fool you, I will love her for eternity, as I love
her in eternity, right American Express Dowd old caveman
Goldsmith?????? HACKERS tried to stop me from two blogs, they are
powerful tonight, old friend Bob McDowell from Hopkins Lane in
January of 1973, in Danny Mackey's class, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where
has mother fucking 41 years gone to
Delta-Dawn-Marie KING?????????????????
Every
mother fucking time their DOW JONES is dropping, and then hits a low
and tried to go back up, THE ENEMY WILL
STRIKE ME HARD. THIS IS A PARALLEL EVENT THAT THEY KNOW
MOTHER FUCKING WORKS EVERY TIME, AND NOTICE THE CHART BELOW, AS
AROUND 2 THIS AFTER FUCKING NOON, IS WHEN ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE FOR ME
BY THIS EVIL MILITUFORCE!!!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
I HOPE YOU ARE
BURNING IN HELL ANN AND DAWN KING!!!!!!!!
Oh
lovely Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Karge Krassle, on or off any of the great
KARGE-3RDS ON ANY AND ALL CALENDARS, I AM ALWAYS YOUR 'THAT-DOGGIE',
REMEMBER?
END
OF TRANSMISSION, YO!
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