The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment": BLOG 79 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2018

1:06 ANTE' MERIDIAN

BLOG 79 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

What a gosh darn world we all live in. Jeepers creepers, and jeeps and creeps. 'Boy oh boy oh boy'; Uncle Wonderful-Life Billy!

I went over to my local Walmart Store yesterday, for a new freaking microwave oven, and while there, I picked up a few towels and washcloths; as this was on my necessities-list, as well as the darn oven that blew up on me as you all know, a week or two ago. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Boy are the hackers doing a darn number on my poor whittle freggin' mouse; lads and lassies! I still have not gone to visit the sheriff. I definitely plan to do this before the end of this week however, YO! Bet on that one!

People all over have become so ugly inside, and I've watched this freaking trend now for a minimum of twenty years. Some people still are very nice, and would even give the shirt off their backs, if they saw someone in big trouble, you know; the hero types that we all see almost nightly on our local news broadcasts. Some media stories are real! BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT, there are also a growing number of simply rotten people, who you just know in a darn heartbeat that they think only of themselves, and to them, you are merely in their way; so get the heck out of it, and that is what they project like unmissable psychological projections. If you prefer the newer age term of body language, then fine, we'll call it that. Still and all, you can't miss it. I won't bother being more specific, and try breaking down a bunch of junk that went on all day, while out on this shopping errand. So again with the WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When the black-hat-hacker-scum screwed with my Spellchecker Program on my previous blog, as you all know; lots of errors happened. It is a very necessary tool to have or else your work appears as written by an uneducated clod from the slums of Ratville. Hey we all know what's up here. My rotten enemies do to me, anything that makes me, and my story; look less credible. Anything at all that they can ever do to discredit me, and all of the numerous things that I try to put across, so as to vindicate me from my nightmarish situation; and they will fight me tooth and nail in any way that they can, so long as it is done endlessly in the secret shadows of covertness and stealth!!!!

Speaking of these enemies straight out of the gateway of Purgatory's Dogtown, Olympia; they shot me with some of their weird 'thumb-in-the-ass chemtrails, and caused me to have another bad diareah and bowels attack, making me defecate all over the bathroom floor and toilet seat. I have now taken this late eighties/early nineties crap, LITERALLY, as long as I am able to, SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA, KIND SIR!!!! So I went over to the Walgreen's store before going on to Walmart, and I purchased some freaking Metamucil, in a large canister, where I can mix several teaspoonfuls of this fiber-powder with some water, and drink it both morning and night, to help me to fight their vicious attacks. I have been able to not take Metamucil for about four years, but ever since Donald Trump set his evil egomaniac sights on the Presidency, he has reused this evil parallel-event technology back on full steroid force, as he had been doing until a small back off after I came to Florida. But then, to quote the great musical wonder that we all know and love, Mizz Diana Ross; “Nothing lasts forever”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We could friggin' get into a trillion and a quarter things, kind peeps out here; so let us randomly spin the darn wheel of life and choose maybe one or two, and write just a little bit of stuff about them, YO!!!! First off, there is no mystery behind anything done in morianity, or spoken of in Morianity. To quote the great Marvel Comics character of Clark Kent, or Superman's alter ego, “The only real magic is the magic of knowledge”. He is 100% on the money, at least according to MOUNTAINPEN and his MORIANITY. All I mean here is that just as ADA RON WIRTZ SENIOR told me once, “It's not mysterious or far out at all what your enemies do to you if and when you understand the simple science and math behind their efforts”. I never forgot that statement made to me right outside his office building in Camden, New Jersey, right before we took a short walk down to the great famous Aquarium in town there, and back again to his office. This was done sometime in the middle nineties, and I won't lie and say that I remember the precise date. Some times and dates are only remembered in approximations, while the majority of events in my life is remembered almost as if my memory was literally a lifelong tape. This is why I do indeed make a federal freaking case out of those times that I fully and totally know only too well, that my memory had to be somehow MESSED WITH by the great WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES, AKA HALLS-FAWCES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In McGuire's Erin Bar on 10-SC Avenue, while speaking to Sarah Callio over his payphone that day on 7 February of 1997 was one major time, and then shortly before that was another doozie-whopper, to quote a fine and great gentleman who I'd be more than proud to call my brother, should the circumstances allow that to be true; President-44, Mister Barack Obama; when Paula King Pau001148157-Spellchecker came to the Highview Apartments late in June of 1996 to visit me and do a little bit more than that to me. Yes Mister Sam the Maintenance-Man and son-of-Sam, the policeman over at the local PD in Williamstown; I'll never ever forget you asking me who my goddess girlfriend was, back on that day. My friend over at the records bureau place who'll remain nameless, has verified that that car was hers, Paula's, and not the Copyrighted 'sonGWRITER' song, Spellchecker!!!! Yes, my 1983 musical project, or one of three done while I was residing in Atco, New Jersey, at the rental home of Mister Gerald Pliner, on 134 Norris Avenue; was indeed titled “SAGA OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD”. Take THAT to the great Bank of the Universe, and to all future treasure hunters, and Huntington's. Yes another 'memory lapse' is after seeing that wild Throat Doctor in early 1984 somewhere, in Northeast Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I remember things crystal clearly until I got into my car to drive back home, and then boom, it shuts down like being knocked out friggin' cold by the great Michael Tyson. Yessir Mike, you told the world that, “Everybody's got a plan until you punch them in the face”. I think that those two previous women in my life thought the same thing, as they were always threatening to pound me up side of my head too, sir. I speak of the great Dawn-Marie King and her distant fourth cousin three times removed, Mizz Paula King, and then there was indeed Mizz Mashell Daniels at the great recording studio called RPL, back in 1980. I never mentioned Paula's threat, as I never knew it was Paula before. I still might be wrong, but it had to be her and her friends of that scary girl gang that I have renamed in my adult life, the “Quoddy-mockers”, since they all seemed to congregate so often in the late nineteen-sixties, right there at the Saint James Place On-ramp to the world famous Atlantic City Boardwalk, and right outside of a shoe store there called, “Quoddy Moccasins”. What happened, was that I had completely forced this nightmare out of my mind, even when I began my blogging project, back in January of nearly thirteen years ago now, in 2006. My mother was talked into allowing her niece, who of course was my cousin Sandra Mason, and also the daughter of my Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason, and her husband, who was the brother of my mother, my Uncle Stuart Huntington Mason; to come down and stay with us on a particular summer's vacation, at the 10-SC Avenue Trinidad Hotel; where if this was south of the border down Mexico way, to quote the great old song; this would be translated into the TRINITY HOTEL; and she made friends with this dangerous 'girl-gang' that I've named in this ADULT-VERSION of the BOOK-OF-THE-BEACH, AND AKA IN MOUNTAINPEN'S MORIANITY; THE QUODDY-MOCKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now I do remember that about a year or so into the blog, I did remember some of the horrendous event that I am now going to revisit upon my heart-heavy blogaudians! On the middle of this five day-four night stay at this hotel, and after my Cuzz Sandy had made friends with this wild girl gang; my mom was going up to the boardwalk to buy a cup of coffee at the Frailenger's Salt Water Taffy Store. Sandy had just arrived, along with several of these giant beautiful teen queen friends of hers; and my mom said that she would be back in five minutes. After the door closed, I heard, or am pretty sure it was Cuzz Sandy, her, whispering into the ear of one of them, something along the lines of not to worry; as she arranged for her friend Helen Felkner to be up there, and tell her to have the coffee with her, at the bench pavilion a block to the south of Central Pier, as she wanted to discuss a personal matter woman to woman, about her boyfriend Ziggy, who was also my beach pal; and whose full name was Mister Sigmund Malyeska. He was from the country of Lithuania, and I had met him about a third of a decade earlier, when my parents had moved into a place in South Atlantic City, called the Bruce Manor Motel, only a couple of blocks north of the Bassler home, at 30 South Plaza Place, where Chester Perkowski and Estelle Mueller Bassler, were most likely residing at this very same point in time. This is when I was attending the Richmond Avenue Grammar School, on Richmond Avenue, and was in the third grade there. To switch mother freaking gears here for just a quick butt wiping seck folks; Mizz Sleazeball Diseaseweeds Jane, just friggin' nailed me with her darn page eleven of eleven again, and I do need to compensate for the cosmic-attack on me, with my counterstriking FIVES, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555 55555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555

This places me ahead now, and onto the next page of my Open-Office Document of word-pages, YO. Now I will hit my 'make believe Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason clutch pedal', and switch this blogger's gearshift back again; to continue along with this monstrous nightmarish discussion; me wonderful peeps and folks, yo! HA-HA-HA!!!! I cannot be 100% positive of my facts, so I won't claim that right off the bat. But I do feel pretty dog gone certain. Sandy then stayed out in the hallway, and the only possible reason for doing that, is so that she could be the LOOK-OUT so to speak, just in case my mom returned, and got off of the elevator. Then should that have happened, she would have just enough time to warn the girls that my mom was coming towards the hotel room. Anyway, lovely teen queen Paula, told me to never ever tell, or else she would throw me off of the hotel balcony, and we were up on the top floor that year, above the usual room that we normally stayed at. She literally picked me up and turned me upside down, and hung me out like a rug, head first and helpless; so that I could have fallen off of the balcony, and down onto a hard cement driveway, leading from the Tennessee Avenue driveway, into the hotel, and then leading beyond that, into the hotel parking lot that faced the adjoining street that was more an alleyway than a street. Paula then proceeded to have sex with me on the bed after one of them drew the curtains closed. I was only twelve years old. Still, Paula was the most beautiful giant dark haired teen queen that anyone could possibly ever imagine, and I was able to perform my manly duties at this tender age, and within only a few minutes. This is the very first time that this goddess had her way with me, and I fully believe that she is really the great Viqueen of Purgatory, Jewelly White. I also believe that she uses a minimum of two other people, that strongly resemble her physically. I have discussed all of this mess, many times over in the past thirteen years; sometimes in very direct ways during major fits of anger, and other times, way more quietly, and with subtle finesse. But then I'll always hear ADA Ron Wirtz Senior telling me another powerful thing. He was mentioning my tapes, that later became part of the internet world; only there were many dozens of them, and not just the three of them compressed into small smattering sections, up on that WFMU New Jersey Crackpots hate-page. He said, “Mark, you get your points across”. I had just told him how I carefully talk around things, but that I try to tie in the stories in powerful, yet covert and clever ways. Then he uttered his famous quotation as was just stated above. Right now I am speaking to the entire people who all know who they are, and that are behind all of my miseries and woes. I am also speaking to the powerful forces and people operating the United States Copyright Office. Also I am speaking to the federal agencies who not only supposedly care about people and their human rights and basic safeties and liberties, but those who protect this entire nation from global threats. You all know that the MOUNTAINPEN'S MORIANITY is no joke and no hoax. I may never get all of my facts straight, but you all know only too well, that I am not making up all of the hell that has gone down around me, ever since I not only LEFT THE COOLEY HALL, but yes, obviously even long before that; and all of my entire pathetic adult life as well, without relief, or let up, or assistance and aid in any way, or in any darn manner!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You know folks; you basicly have three choices of belief systems with my story of the past thirteen years online, and you all have seen it progress, and you all know only too well that there is not a fiction writer on the planet who could come up with anything even remotely as powerful, and wild, and outlandishly unfathomable and inconceivable as MORIANITY! I don't have to explain that to any semi rational person out here. Here then are those choices. One is that I am somehow the absolutely craziest mother trucker who ever lived here in this entire galaxy, from the beginning of time, right smack dab through until the end of it. Two is that some incredible national or global experiment is being conducted, and a few very unlucky people have been chosen to participate in it, without their knowledge or consent; and the reasons behind it may vary from no reason at all, to any possible combination of reasons imaginable. Three is that indeed, the Mountainpen has done the impossible, and has survived an incredible nightmare, and somehow managed to super sleuth his way into figuring out the existence of the most powerful and deadly dangerous group of spiritual travelers in the entire multiverse and beyond, the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY. There is in all honesty, simply no number four, or five, or anything else. One of these three items is the truth. You will make the ultimate decision shortly, or eventually, or maybe never!!!! How can I possibly ever know that answer, no matter how much seeking or knocking that I would ever attempt to do?

Mike McNulty said it all in 1971, AHA-AHA!!!!

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 4, 2018

6:32 POST MERIDIAN

BLOG 78 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

Handing me the business again, huh Wolly Cleaver??????????????????????????

Well then, FUCK ME!!!!!! Sheriff Mascara sir, THESE MOTHER FUCKING ILLEGAL GUESTS here at this PHA BUILDING, SIR; are horrendous again today, with their fucking slamming of doors, ALL DAY FUCKING CUNT LONG. LIKE JESUS CHRIST ALL MOTHER FUCKING MIGHTY, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!! WOW would I love to see them all in cunt huffing JAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They bring me nothing but mother fucking noise and goddamn ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, ROACHES, AND MORE GODDAMN NEVER ENDING FUCKING ASS ROACHES, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At least Diana came back again to revisit her little persecuted boy (LIGHTNING), this afternoon, AKA this 'disafsternoon'!!!!!!! My mother fucking Spellchecker program has been disabled by my mother fucking 'black hat' CUM-PUKE-HER HACKERS AGAIN; KIND SHERIFF MASCARA, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Somebody out there somewhere really mother fucking hates my pathetic guts, Sheriff sir. They just won't allow me to ever get any mother fucking peace at all, NOT GODDAMN MOTHER FUCKING EVER, YO YO YO YO YO YO, ME BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No matter how many counter-strikes done by my 'MAGNESONIC', they just won't cunt chewing back off of me; KIND SHERIFF, SIR! It looks like more big ass fucking secrets need to come shooting out of the mouth of MOTORMOUTH MOUNTAINPEN, WHAAAAAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA-AHA, MIKE MCNULTY FROM 1971, IN EXTON, CHURCHFARM DONNA SUMMER, PENNSYLVANIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There was a television documentary, in the year 1988, shown on the NYNY station WPIX, that was called, “UFO-THE COVER UP”; with two narrating agents, Agent Condor and Agent Falcon. They said stuff that mirror imaged my fucking problems with this nightmare fucking hell, ever since 1986; right down to the mother fucking tee!!!!!!!!! After they confiscated someone's camera, when they had taken pictures, supposedly of some alien or some UFO craft; they were told, and I am directly mother fucking quoting from this wonderful television documentary, “If you ever open up your mouth, we will never give you a moment's peace for the rest of your life”. This sure fucking cunt huffing sounds like what is being done to me, and HAS BEEN DONE TO ME, EVER SINCE 1986. So what happened in 1986, with me, that in some way, at least to 'THEM'; connects into this forbidden zone of aliens/UFO's, or, as Congressman Andrews might put it, back as a young lad in 1975; “WHATEVER”? Let's mother fucking quickly explore this bullshit; me kind folks and peeps of the shamrocks!

I had gone to sleep early in the morning around one or two of the clock, on the fifteenth fucking day of August, in 1986, in my bedroom at that horrible shithole I was renting in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, USAESMWG, from the owner, Mister dirtbag Richard Karpf, the quintessential nightmare landlord on mega-steroids!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I fell into the most mind bending lucid dreaming interaction that I ever experienced in just over three decades of life, as then I was half the age that I currently am today. I was in a parallel universe where many things were not only very different from here in this one where I am seemingly awake; BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT, different from all others, both here and all over the hyperspace, because in all of them except for this one, I am having horrendous rotten experiences and problems, here, there, makes no difference, BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT, in this one particular locale in the vast and virtually limitless 5^th dimensional hyperspace; THINGS WERE BEYOND SUPER FUCKING WONDERFUL AND MARVELOUS, to quote the mighty King Donald John Trump. Speaking of him, he never was Frank Capra James Stuart born over in that universe. Gee, like I wonder why things were great over there? Could it be that indeed, and just as I've claimed all along, and had it virtually confirmed by a county ADA in the early nineties; I am being wiped out by this horrible fucking monster? All of the evidence supports it, right down to ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, practically telling me that I am not wrong in my suspicions!!!!!!!!!!!!! And so here I am finally somewhere, by chance or maybe not; in this universe where there is no TRUMP, and therefore, NO NIGHTMARE FUCKING HELL to deal with,24-7-365.2422? BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT, was anything about this wild 1986 experience over in that blissful parallel universe, pertaining to the forbidden subject of aliens and UFO's????????????? Well, nobody can answer questions like these, but indeed we can always continue to endlessly super slueth around and seek and knock, as was the advice given to all of us, from our God and our Lord, JESUS the CHRIST (Messiah)!

SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM