SATURDAY,
JANUARY 12, 2019
7:31
ANTE' MERIDIAN
BLOG
07 OF TWENTY NINETEEN (2019)
INTERNATIONAL
BLOG POPULARITY, IN GREEN-COLORED SHADE
RATIO:
People
are so incredibly easily controlled and manipulated, it is totally
freaking pathetic. DON'T
COUNT ME OUT YET; MEN IN BLACK!
As I said many times before, if a person with this knowledge can
effect real items in a real gaming hall, then
this same influence or power can be created,
using this similar subatomic numeration matching of spooky-fawces,
Sir Einstein; to do many other things as well. Am I right, Mister ten
moves Raymond Young, from 1988? I'll give you some fucking Chinese
water coolers, AND put you to sleep, you and Robert McGuire. So take
that to the wonderful TD-BANK, yo. For right now, you just go be a
bunch of pigs and slobs. But remember, in more ways than one people,
“I've
got your fucking number”, and it isn't 123, 27, or 33.
But I've got it Paula and Bob! Unfortunately, I've also got lots of
other nightmarish and agony causing stuff all around me that just
won't go away. It cannot be prayed away, forced away, or made to
disappear by even the greatest mother freaking magicians out there on
this great yet totally screwed up EARTH-PLANET! My
“SAVE” part,
on this Open-Office
writer program, is slow
to respond.
Stacey King Lattisaw at work again this moUUUUrning, I suppose, kind
folks. No, as just stated herein, me wonderful Blogaudians, these
problems and woes of mine, ain't going away any time soon, and soon
means in Morianity, centuries! We're all as old as our blood. We're
not stones or wooden planks. Chronological age doesn't HAVE TO
freaking represent our biological age, as many of you now know, from
reading pieces from last year's Morianity! WEEEEEEEEE! Yes, I must
endure horrible evil criminal crooks and no good scoundrels on a
continuous basis, and anyone who doesn't think that the world works
like this, Mizz Desire' Twinbay, wink-wink, and all other Knowles
Schools of fiction, or maybe Charles Dickens actor/played Scrooge
nephew roles, just does not know the truth about some of the Fort
Pierce secretaries, or to use a more Politically correct term here,
Assistants. Wink-wink, huh Prick-Snot? This
crook should be in prison, and everyone in Florida has told me that,
BUT IS HE IN PRISON? IS DIRTBAG TRUMP? NO! Some
hack or hacker which is the same thing I guess, has screwed up my
ability today to have more than one document up at a time without
freeze-ups and continual hacks and other such mother freaking ass
annoyances, yo!!!! SHERIFF
MASCARA;
SOME PIG IS HACKING
ON MY
COMPUTER
SUPER HUGE ULTRA TIME, IN TOTAL
MOTHER FREAKING VIOLATION
OF MY HUMAN
RIGHTS,
MY CIVIL
RIGHTS,
AND MY GODDAMN ASS CONSTITUTIONAL
RIGHTS,
TO FREEDOM
OF EXPRESSION AND SPEECH,
UNDER
THE UNTITED
STATES
CONSTITUTION,
kind sir. I am going to see if things improve here by signing off
after saving this document, and then coming back to resume me whittle
blog, kind sir!
So
yes, Sheriff sir, and all other great Blogaudians out here; if
someone knows these truths spoken of in Morianity; they can indeed
EFFECT STUFF AROUND THEM, totally
invisibly, and totally covertly. Well, unless the enemies or the
(WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES) become
aware that someone is using this knowledge in this way, as
they did with me, decades ago, and for all I know; this
could be why the middle eighties assault on me was all rained down
like a volcanic overflow with me standing right there on the goddamn
freaking edge of it! But one huge problem existed throughout
all of this and during this period of hellfire and damnation. This is
the one, as people all love to say so often, THAT I DIDN'T SEE
COMING, OR DIDN'T SEE HAPPENING. As the old expression goes, and I've
heard it myself upon countless occasions, regarding lightning and the
danger of being struck; “It's the one you don't see” that is the
one that gets you. This is of course entirely correct, and makes an
awesome freaking illustration here, don'tchya think? All this time,
as if I wasn't cooking in hot enough poisonous stew sauce, I also had
the invisible enemy that was never observed, never imagined, never
really there at all yet of course always was. I speak of the mighty
PAULA KING of ATLANTIC
CITY, NEW JERSEY, USA-ESMWG!
I
went to sleep last night, early,because I wasn't feeling all that
great after a very long time of major hellishness and bullshit. I had
not been able to get a good night of rest and sleep for numerous
days. Finally, I crashed early, and was able to sleep until this
morning, perhaps eleven straight hours; and believe me folks, I
frickin' needed every single hour of it! BUTTTTTTTTTTTTT, there is
always that BIG ASS BUTT CATCH,
as most of us know only too damn well, am I right or wrong here? Wild
and incredible interactions in the hyperspace or (dreams) as most of
you will label them, made my nocturnal activities incredibly active.
The one that finally awoke me out of it was the mighty Paula King,
who finally told me that indeed, SHE IS PINK GODDESS, and that it was
SHE who did it all, just as I had always wondered if one force or
person could have been behind all of my situations. She made things
happen so that I would find those records up at the RPL Studio attic
when I worked there from middle 1979 through early 1981, and she was
behind my four 1980 demos, and that she of course was the
stranger by the railing, to parallel Paul Eckist Twitchell yet
not simultaneously infringing on his copyright protected works. I
speak of the Atlantic City world famous boardwalk railing right there
at the on-ramp to it, at Tennessee Avenue, where Paula's radio
station is right there at the Arcade Building, and her parking lot is
right next door to the Casino Control Commission's parking lot, on
the street below the on-ramp. It has been PINK
GODDESS
PAULA all along, all this
time; and I was so ignorant not to ever put this together back in
earlier times and days, when it was way more
necessary for me to have done. After-all, finding out that you
were betrayed, while you're sitting in a chair all tied up, and about
to be shot execution style by some mob hit man; doesn't
do all that much to help you get out of that chair before the bullets
leave the pipe. When I needed to know, I
was never ALLOWED to know. Even the great Copyright
Office Head Examiner,
back early in this century, who I fully believe knew the truths about
my nightmare life on this planet, could have said something to help
me, but was of course, totally unwilling to risk her position there
at the Library of Congress, or to quote L&O's Detective Ed Green,
since his comparative quotation is so totally fitting and apropos
here, “so you lose your damn job”! Anyway, this interaction that
happened right before I literally jumped out of bed and out of my
sleep a couple hours ago, and Paula told me that I AM GOING TO GET
HER THIS OTHER AM RADIO, and I at first did not understand why she
wanted an amplitude radio, anyone can get parts and build one for
crissake, if nothing else. But then she
eventually told me that the AM stands for Anti-Matter.
Yes,
the great PINK GODDESS was indeed
the super beautiful giant girl who was standing on that boardwalk
on-ramp on 10-SC Avenue, back on the first week in June of the year
1980, in my wild dreaming-interaction that I was experiencing after
approximately one month residing at the illustrious 1802 ROBIN HILL
APARTMENTS, of Voorhees, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG. Then seventeen
freaking years later from the time of this early June 1980 'dream',
she was standing right across the street from there, at HER PARKING
LOT, or her father John King's lot back then, and this was on the
night of July 11, 1997. She was flicking those Cuban cigars, one
after another, completely across the street, and making them spark
off of the brick wall that was the Endicott Hotel property, as I
suppose it is here in waking life also, as that part wasn't any
different. Only I wasn't throwing any rock-paper-scissor fists or
playing any FIRE-LIGHT games, not with her, not with the State
Police, not with Elvis Presley, and certainly not with Patrick CBS
Jane. But on the next morning, I did in fact screw up my skimpy
little courage and drove down to 10-SC Avenue, and I did see Paula,
right at her dad's parking lot. He of course was the man who TOTALLY
INSISTED THAT I HOSE MYSELF OFF, BEFORE COMING BACK TO MY CAR, TO
DRIVE OFF HIS LOT that day; in the late summer time in 1996. No
matter how many times I assured him that I would be fully clothed
when I return and may not even go to the beach, he continued to
insist upon this, and blocked my exit off of his lot property, until
I AGREED to do so. Of course, I NEVER DID. But hoses, dreams of my
kid, what next, maybe Captain Kirk and I will salute each freaking
othjer before he takes me on a freaking star ship or other such
mystery ship ride out amongst the stars, straight over to extra
sensory perception heaven, and all great galactic barriers, so I can
talk to Paula King again, only this time, in her TRUE PERSONA AS PINK
GODDESS! Do I believe that she is also Patty
Hollister, and other such similar 'H'
surnames, and even the great Mizz Safka herself, with or
without Hans Brinker, magical
silver skates, magical silver motorcycle
chains, or special keys that can unlock
great tri-worm tunnels, such as on Tennessee Avenue in
ACNJUSAESMWG, State Street & Pierce Avenue in Camden, NJUSAESMWG,
or Cooley H-H-H-H on Hopkins Lane and “KINGS” Highway, in
Haddonfield, NJUSAESMWG? Let me answer this question by asking a
question, oh mighty and mean Doctor non-Crown Crystal Lake Avenue
'psychiatric-dose' Cohen. After all this mind bending hell that I
have lived through, am I really NOT SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE
THAT????????????????
HA-HA-HA-HA
MISS BITCHWEEDS SLUTDISEASE FONDA, YOU
FREAKING MISSED ME!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA, MMCN.
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I'LL
FREAKING TYPE THE FIVE NUMBER GROUPINGS IN ANIWHO, OR
AS MY WONDERFUL COINS AND COILS MIGHT CALL THEM,
MY 'GROUPATIONS';
so tee-hee-hee, Agents Condor and
Falcon, and all Lovely Lilly Munsters
everywhere, yo!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
sir Mister Chinese water-cooler Ray Young from 1988, I must have put
you to sleep the same way that I put the guy from Inventhelp to
sleep, or whatever that presently named firm was calling itself back
in the late twentieth century somewhere. Only now I have come to know
that it NEVER WAS ME who did these things, any more than I had the
ability to use major hypnosis on John Zane and Count John-Richard
VonMarcucci, back in the years of late 1969 and early 1970, that
brought me an inch or so away from a school suspension. It was never
really me doing these things, but AWESOME
PINK GODDESS PAULA, all
along. I asked her shy she hated me so much, and why she did so many
horrible things to both my mother and me so many times throughout
decades of time, and she laughed in this wild “DREAM” as you all
might insist on calling it, and told me “That Boy, you just get me
the radio I want, do you hear me”? I told her that it is in a
parallel universe and is just off of Grant Avenue in Northeast
Philadelphia, not all that far from the world famous
DRUG-SMUGGLERS-PIPELINE, and she laughed, and said back to me, “Yeah,
like in your teenaged daughter's phone conversation, 95”. I said,
“Yes great Pink Goddess, Interstate-ninety-five”. Then she
grabbed me and lifted me about four feet off of the ground, and threw
me straight into a pile of debris that was sitting in-between the
parking lot that she and her late dad John own, and the next door lot
that's owned by the Casino Control Commission
(CCC), just as in the song sent in 2007 to the United States ©
Office, under the title of my musical project called, “Karaoke
Lunch-break at the Sorian-18 Guardhouse”, only later the
CIA
told the Library of Congress,
for reasons of National Security, not to allow me to use the '18'
number before the word 'Guardhouse'.
Like WOW THAT one, huh all Joanna's and Joanna's everywhere, and lots
of scrumptious exotic butter-cheeses, huh Mariah?????????????
WHAAAAAAA!
END
TRANSMISSION:
WEDNESDAY,
JANUARY 9, 2019
6:23
ANTE' MERIDIAN
BLOG
6 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
INTERNATIONAL
BLOG POPULARITY IN GREEN-COLORED SHADE RATIO:
People
are so incredibly easily controlled and manipulated, it is totally
freaking pathetic. I will add this much into the mix here, kind
people. After getting my mother friggin' mind blown last night on
television, comparing my past life beginning in Atco, New Jersey in
the spring time of 1983, with that brand new fantastically great show
on the HISTORY-CABLE-CHANNEL, things FINALLY are clearing up for me.
So what happened as a result? Well folks, just as would be expected,
based on what I personally know and have experienced, that's what. I
had another wild through the hyperspace when I turned out the lights.
B4I go on, someone is playing games with my computer, and quite
naturally. Every single thing is under THEIR CONTROL, and always has
been, KIND SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA.
But then am I really telling or teaching you that? Anyone with
positions of power or authority, has to be somewhat in the loop of
those who control this situation and have the power to rule and
govern over the rest of us. But back now to my “DREAM” that I
just popped out of, and at least I can say that, literally, I didn't
justjoebutnotjoe “POP” out of this dream, Mister Microsoft
InterDigital Plank-Time Visitors Spellchecker of all great realms
everywhere, precious or not so precious to me, WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!
I
was over at my old school-buddy's house, Bruce Pennock, and then I
was in recent times where he was going to come over and discuss my
deal that I told a tiny fraction of to State Farm's Mister rotten ass
Larry Lee, back late last spring time, in 2018,and was treated like
horse goddamn manure afterwards. Wink-wink, huh Prick-Snot? This
crook should be in prison, and everyone in Florida has told me that,
BUT IS HE IN PRISON? IS DIRTBAG TRUMP? NO!!!!!!!!!! Of course not,
because these dirt holes are all totally mother freaking above the
laws that the rest of us poor rotten little slobs are all forced to
live by, OR ELSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But things were not always
this way, or at least quite as bad. It all seemed to go wrong at just
about the very same time that our wonderful United States Air force
military service system (Mili-2-fawce)
put an end, officially at least, to the great PROJECT
BLUEBOOK in middle December of 1969,
to the very day so it appears, THAT SARAH
KRASSLE CAME TO ME IN A POWERFUL DREAM, STOLE
MY CHAIN, AND THEN A HUGE 120 DEGREE
CHEMTRAIL WAS PLACED UP OVER THE ENTIRE SKIES OF WESTERN CAMDEN
COUNTY, NEW JERSEY!!!!!!!!!!! But let's get back to that wild
dream that I just pooped/popped out of, just two hours ago or so; my
wonderful Blogaudians out here, from all great
lands and
nations!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OH
LORDESS, MISTER GUTHRIE SIR!!!!
All
this freaking time, I hoped and prayed that my entire life did indeed
have some rational and logical explanation, right down to my contact
with Lightning goddess Diana Arteemis in 1983, or direct contact. She
always was in my life in a very special way, during
my Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr lifetime here, that began
in the SPACE-TIME-MIND illusions, on 4 December of 1954, at
approximately half past nine in the damn morning. So getting
back to this horrible hyperspace-experience from just a very short
time ago, Bruce had come over to my place, as he did upon a few
occasions in 'waking life' reality while my mom and I were renting a
home on Hillcrest Avenue, in the Cherrywood Estates of Blackwood, New
Jersey, from September of 1978 through September of 1979; owned by
Tony Crissafulli. In this parallel world, I was living in some other
place, but similar to the Dellway Arms Apartments in Oaklyn, New
Jersey, on Oakland Avenue, where I was living when I had the
unfathomable SARAH KRASSLE CHAIN REMOVAL EXPERIENCE, I was a little
bit younger but not that much, and my mother was in the interaction
and was living there as well. Bruce had come into a large fortune and
originally wanted to help me develop that fantastic idea that I
shared in this 'waking world parallel' with dirt hole Mister Lee.
When he arrived, he was distant as if someone or something, CAPTAIN
JAMES TIBERIOUS KIRK, of the Starship Gloucester, had taken over his
mind, and he told me that my idea was silly and he didn't want to
have any part of it. It was a real mother fucking nightmare,
to use the old words for a very bad time
remembered in the hyperspace!!!!
There
is no way out of, or around, this situation that I am in; not here,
and not anywhere. I have told the entire world the truth about the
Purgatory, the inhabitants, the whole damn ball of wax involved, and
I held back nothing. Morianity IS NOT a book of secrets, nor will it
ever be. I am an individual who has openly told in all candor, what
has happened to me over the past numerous mother fucking decades. I
have been straight forward and given it straight up and hard
punching. I am not the fucking Mili-2-Force. This IS MORIANITY. This
is THE TRUTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
as I said back on my blog-book chapter called, GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS
CHAPTER
58,
The
lady told me to contact an electrician, to come in and see why the
power goes out; and we all know that he or she
won't find a thing wrong, just as with my phone ever since
1983, or electric, or any of this mother fuckiGN shit. She did say I
can then come into th e office of the Sheriff, to file a criminal
complaint against an unknown plaintiff, and they will try to see if
they can help me. I told them the local police just think I am a nut
and won't even try to help me.
Let
us now, Sheriff sir, examine the morning stock market to see if it is
up 1,000 points yet after this wild assault on my civil liberties,
KIND SIR!!!!!!!!!!
It
is either way up or way down, and causes them to attack me to try and
either get the positive momentum going on their side if it is UP, or
to lessen and reverse any negative direction. So just watch now, as
it slowly moves up 1000 points today, folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
am going to go over and sign a criminal complaint against WALL
STREET, and begin a civil lawsuit myself, for $1,000,000,000,000.00
and no one can stop me, as this is my legal right to pursue after 30
years of hell that they plan to endlessly keep doing to me until the
day I mother fucking die!!!!! I plan on
being this planet's first fucking TRILLIONAIRE.
They
ruined my blog also. I HAD SAID BY USING INETNTIONALLY CREATED
PARALLEL EVENT OR (ICPE), SO FAR THIS WEEK ON:
1----MONDAY
2----TUESDAY
3----THURSDAY
4----FRIDAY
THEY
GOT THEIR WAY HUGE TIME ON THEIR CHEATED EVIL CROOKED WALL STREET
STOCK MARKET. BOY I WISH YOU WERE HERE TO WITNESS AND SEE ALL OF
THIS, MISTER BERNIE SANDERS, KIND SIR,
AS I THINK YOU WOULD BE ONE WHO MIGHT JUST BELIEVE ME, AND SEE THAT
THIS IS ALL HAPPENING AND REAL; MY KIND FRIEND.
WEDNESDAY
THIS
WAS THE ONLY DAY, I WAS NOT PERSECUTED TO DEATH IN THE MORNING, WITH
EITHER UTILITY SHIT, OR MAJOR
NABE NOISE; AND THIS WAS THE BIG DOWN
DAY ON THE DOW JONES, BERNIE SIR, A CHILD CAN SEE AFTEER
30 YEARS OF THIS NIGHTMARE, THAT I AM NOT A
FUCKING NUT!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!
JANE
FUCKING WHORE FONDA JUST NAILED ME AT SEVEN OF THE CLOCK WITH
HER CUNT EATING ONES ASSAULT. So allow me to pweeeeeeeeeeeeze fucking
compensate, kind people, yo!!!!!!! TANKS, and KABOOM!!!!
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I
am not on the mat looking up at my opponent with all my teeth knocked
out, not yet, so DON'T MOTHER FUCKING COUNT ME OUT YET; MEN IN
BLACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As I said many times before, if a person with
this knowledge can effect real items in a real gaming hall, then this
same influence or power can be created using this similar subatomic
numeration matching of spooky-fawces, Sir Einstein; to do many other
things as well. Am I right, Mister ten moves Raymond Young, from
1988? I'll give you some fucking Chinese water coolers, AND put you
to sleep, you and Robert McGuire. So take that to the wonderful
TD-BANK, yo. For right now, you just go be a bunch of pigs and slobs.
But remember, in more ways than one people, “I've
got your fucking number”, and it isn't 123, 27, or 33. But
I've got it Paula and Bob!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
TUESDAY,
JANUARY 8, 2019
1:33
POST MERIDIAN
BLOG
5 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
Since
I am no expert with these computer systems, this
will begin with a short note TO
MYSELF. Hey dum-dum Mark, you screwed up.
When
you are looking for blog 4 and blog 5 of 2019, reverse it on your
office-dock-file, you know, if you want blog 4, type in blog 5, and
if you want blog 5, then type in blog 4. I don't know how to get back
into the damn file and repair my error. And you know what folks, I
can't blame anybody except myself, and I cannot go yelling, “thanks
a lot, DAVE”,
or
'YARRRRRR'
to Patty
Hollister.
In fact, I need not travel back through time and to Chicago, to warn
my Aunt (actually she was my second cuzz or some such deal), the
great and lovely Mizz Alice Gallagher,
about her eventual murder back east in Braintree, Massachusetts, USA,
ESMWG, by her hubby, and my mom's first cuzz, and son of the great
and somewhat wild Mister Herbert Huntington, Mister Arthur.
WHAAAAAAAA! Yes Spellchecker,
WHHHHATEVER will always do nicely in
a pinch!!!!!!!!!! Nor do I need to go
over to Ireland to chase any automobiles, or any other Ernie journey
that could be on my potential freaking bucket list, yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo! I also don't need any bugged-up telephones to know that my
wonderful piece of junk, AKA by our marvelous federal government, as
my BLUE-NUNNGEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So aha-aha THAT, Mister Mike 1971 McNulty, kind sir, yo bro!
I'm
gonna' open up another topic that indeed does, and will relate, to
all of my hyperspace stuff; kind folks. You'll goddamn see. I don't
make junk up, nor do I lie. My
Morianity did tell one lie, and a couple of years later I
owned up to it, and then an incredible thing happened. It all
led to me figuring out just who SARAH
'really' was. It was PAULA
KING ALL
ALONG. She said a very mean thing on a public bus, around
half past ten, on the night of the twelfth of July, back in the year
1970, in where else, BUTTERCHEESE and BUT;
ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY, USA-ESMWG? Fits
and figures, huh? But my lie, that before that happened, as
Sarah got on, and said, “There's that boy”
to Paula King; means that they knew of me from my treks
with my mom, to the great and mother fucking illustrious
TRINITY-TRINIDAD HOTEL, of TENNESSEE AVENUE!!!!
Without going on and on, with an extremely fucking depressing and
ugly issue, better left forgotten and yet never of course can be; let
me just say that many of my loyal as well as Mountainpen-HATING
Blogaudians, know this story only too well. BUTTERCHEESE and big ass
BUTT, there is a whole lot more that will be examined, as this year
of 2019 continues fucking ass along; me kind and lovely blogging
audience (blogaud)!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When
I went to my clinic today, I was able to get all of medical problems
straightened out, that is until the nest time that Trump and his evil
fucking henchman strike me again with some more dependable new
persecutions against a pathetic sick old fucking cunt man.
BUTTERCHEESE and BIG-ASS-BUTT, when I was there, unlike ever before,
their TV set in the waiting area was set to a channel where the
inauguration of the state governor was taking place. I ignored it as
best as possible. Still, they normally have TWC on, or other non-news
type stations, but today, some of HALLS FAWCES made me suffer through
that fucking shit on steroids. Florida is a horrendous rotten RED
STATE, and it is my own damn fucking
fault, huh Merry;
for coming down here in the dead of goddamn night, nine years ago,
yo??????????? You go girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAA!
Still
kind Blogaudians, this same HALLS-FAWCES
PARLOR TRICK, that made that channel be
on at the clinic where I had to physically be there and get nauseated
and physically ill as a result, watching the new crook replace the
other total fucking old crook, Sir Prick
Snot, WAS ALSO USED, to cause many
people to act the way that they do, and believe total fucking
falsehoods regarding most things that pertain to poor old fucked up
whittle innocent me; yo me BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Oh you want
details on that, folks, well then fine and freaking dandy, as I'll
gladly provide some powerhouse and newsworthy information herein that
just might assist in clearing up the matter for any and everybody
reading my words of woe!!!!!!!!!! I saw this tactic used and enjoyed,
back at a mother fucking SATURN AUTOMOBILE DEALERSHIP, in
Williamstown, New Jersey, on the Black Horse Pike, or Turnersville,
as I forget now where the fucking township dividing lines are. But I
know that I told the story of how that young asshole employee girl
came over at just after the Wall Street opening bell, and turned the
goddamn fucking TV set in the lobby area of the damn ass dealership,
to the business channel, and not even asking me if I was watching
what was on before she had come over to do this. If this fucking shit
were happening to any of you out there, on the same regular
nightmarish basis that it has been happening to and around me ever
since I died and went to hell on the moUUUUUUUUUUUUrning of August
15, 1986; you would be every bit as
up set and totally fucking beside yourself as am I, YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO!!!! IPYT, me wonderful lads and lassies, yo!!!!
So
yes; here are just a fucking few whittle ass examples of how
those demonic HALLS-FAWCES
make people act weird with me, for absolutely no rational or
logical fucking reason WHATSOEVER, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!
Tom
Glenn the great musical arranger who went onto do many great things
with his talents, even for the wonderful National Football League,
whom our great leader is determined to stick his nose so endlessly
into their bizz. But me pernt, Mister
Bunkerqueens sir is THISSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!! I wrote a nice
whittle tune about two months after I had written my first song as a
teenager, and this first one was, “That's The
Way It Goes”, and this second one that was written in middle
July, after Misses Kinsel had evicted me for shouting out curse words
and many complaints had come in, but that tune was called, “Burn
With Fire”. I wrote the goddamn song
hoping that Patty would sing it for me someday. She
never did, but that's the way it goes, I guess, pun intended.
So when the musical arranger, Mister Glenn, was over at my
apartment, #1802 Robin Hill, that day early in the year of 1981; he
was convinced that I was a cock sucking fagot, because the song
lyrics were written for a female vocalist. Many songs are
specifically written for a male or a female artist/vocalist to do,
and I was not by any stretch, the first person on this miserable ass
Earth-Planet, to do so, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!! But still,
he was convinced, and he let me know it. I could harp on and on with
all of these four items, but how about we just move it along and say
the brief basic stuff on each one, so we don't end up typing-reading
a hundred ass stupid pages of details that won't really matter to a
fucking soul by next week, yo? The second item here of these four, is
about the great disco diva, Mizz Donna summer. Back as a teenager
when she was Donna Adrian Gaines, she went to Munich, Germany, and
she did a wild musical project that no one ever knew about, and no,
it wasn't very good, but anyone should have known it was her, and
yet, everyone told me, no Mark, it isn't her. BUTTERCHEESE
and BIG ASS BUTT MISTER FUCKING MICROSOFT SPELLCHECKER, I knew
what I knew, and I was proven right, back in 1995,
early in the year, by the world famous cable television channel,
“Arts and Entertainment” Channel,
now and for quite some time, just known as “A&E”.
Lots of
fantastic COP-SHOWS
are also on that great station, since just about all
the other stations removed these wonderful cop-shows. My
new absolute fave is of course, A&E's super great show,
“LIVE-PD”!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anyway, let's move mother fucking on here. On this one particular
show, it actually showed footage of the day
that Donna Gaines, B4 she was Donna Summer, doing that very
project, that I had, when I was given those wild records from
the RPL-Overage file, by Mister Mike
Walters, the company printer, back
in the year of 1980. I knew I was fucking right, but
nobody would believe me. BUT I WAS
RIGHT, and it WAS HER all fucking cunt along, yo yo yo yo
yo!!!! Then the third out of these four items would be THISSSSSSSSSS,
Mizz Susan Erica AMC Lucci Snakes, from 1983, 'SSSSSSSSSSSS'!!!! All
my life, I have met extremely and very unusually physically strong
females, fully grown, teenaged, and even pre-teens. I mean
these goddamn girls and women would have even made the great, and now
late, Mister fucking STAN
LEE
sit up and take major notice. But all my goddamn fucking life,
from my own parents, to everyone around me, told me, “Mark
you're an asshole because they're not strong”. I could blog
details, and tell literally dozens of tales
that are all true, so help me GODDESS SSJKK
and sworn under flag and citizenship and for that matter, under full
pain and penalty of Perjury!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But I won't waste your
time on this one blog giving specifics. I could list shit from
heredahelda, however; and IPYT, me kind folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The most recent elucidation here was blogged many times earlier this
decade, and after I said something, the news people immediately
stopped showing the story forever. Until I made a deal of it and
blogged it, they discussed it quite a lot, so allow me now to refresh
some of the memories, especially Floridians, as this event took place
in fucking Florida. Anyhow, it seems that a
college boy had hired a prostitute to provide him with her feminine
duties, and when she had completed her services, he could not
or would not pay her. She killed him with her
bare hands, and she was a big powerful girl. I could say so
many things it isn't funny, but no one wil ever listen to my truths,
even WHEN THEY ARE RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM AND SIMPLY CANNOT BE
FUCKING CUNT DISPUTED, YO YO YO YO, ME BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Finally
folks, we come to item number four. Everyone or 99.99 percent of
anyone who reads this true and powerful Earth fucking shaking story
called Mountainpen's Morianity scoffs and laughs, and totally refuses
to believe a fucking word that I say. I could literally perform a
resurrection in front of them or jump right over Mizz lovely Jennifer
Washburn's Providence Road House in Atlantic City, and I am
disbelieved and ignored as if I am the epitome of the fucking Bubonic
plague. Again peeps, I know what gives here,
and I will type it in again, and again, AND AGAIN,
AND AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!! You most
likely already know how the next line reads, but look and verify it
if you wish to!
HALLS
FUCKING FAWCES! That's what
gives!
TUESDAY,
JANUARY 8, 2019
7:28
ANTE' MERIDIAN
BLOG
4 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
Since
I am no expert with
these computer systems, this will begin with a short note TO
MYSELF. Hey dum-dum Mark, you screwed
up. When you are looking for blog 4 and blog 5 of 2019, reverse it on
your office-dock-file, you know, if you want blog 4, type in blog 5,
and if you want blog 5, then type in blog 4. I don't know how to get
back into the damn file and repair my error. Sheriff sir, at least PK
released the damn hack on my 'making-lines program, as you can see
from below! So thanks a lot, Almighty
Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Karge Krassle, Sheriff K.J.M., and “thanks
a lot, DAVE”!!!!!!!!!!!
YARRRRRR, Patty Hollister. Yeah, it's under me buckin' hat, lovely
lady from Gloucester. Watch out for Katharine and Mary-Lee, Aunt
Ruth!!!!!!!! For those who may be
unaware of all of the nightmarish circumstances involved here; David
Roth and I would have many serious talks over a totally fucking 'Ed
Snowed In'
bugged up telephone, Mister
BLUE-NUNNGEN; and he would always
joke about that exact song, “Feel
Real”, and how as he put it so
crudely, Thomas
J.
Reale
of both Ventnor, and Northfield, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; molested me
back when I was fifteen years fucking old, at his
home that he sold to the ACMUA
waterworks of Atlantic City, on Cornwall Avenue, back
in July of 1970.
There is a connection and a message, built into every single event in
the entire universe and multiverse.
So
why do we choose (in
our spirit), to explore the various parallel doppelgangers
(doubles) of ourselves, in the virtually
limitless fifth dimensional hyperspace? To begin here with
this, we must still open up a whittle bit of additional foundation,
and so we shall, kind peeps and great wonderful Blogaudians!!!!!!!!
Yes sir/mahm, allow if ye will, 'THIS
DOGTOWNITE',
AND
THIS
HUMAN-HYBRID, with the Blood type---A
neg.,
and Eye
color---green-hazel,
to continue along heredahelda, and
HERE!,
Miscalculation,
and Mister Spellchecker!!!! BUTTTTTTTTT, if
I didn't get Paula King that radio, she
would take me back to the hotel
balcony in the year of 1967,
and this time, THROW ME OFF OF IT FOR
REALE. Maybe I should have
said FBI, or just REAL.
Or,
hey maybe I
should NOT HAVE SAID FBI,
to Debbie
Harry's
friends at ROBIN HILL,
back in the spring time of freaking 1981.
WOW!
©
BOM, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2019
theansweristheqyuestion
http:/theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/
© 2006-2019
On Blogger since January
2006
Profile views – 3,009
My earlier Morianity blogs:
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Introduction
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Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can
honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or
have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through
hyperspace, with awareness. Fun is replaced
with 'intense'.
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You forgot your mom's
birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits;
BLOGGER/GOOGLE asks the Mountainpen?
AN
ANGRY ASS MOTHER! But at the risk of sounding negative,
the only thing one may be truly sure of, is that you cannot be
sure of anything. Sorry for my rotten bad
attitude, gorgeous Desire' Twinbay!
©
BOM, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2019
So
now we come to more of it; the BIG 'Y'
of the 'dream-realms'? Is this series of
sleeping visits without reason, and merely happening by random? Well,
as the great BRITS would put it, “NOT TAT
TALL”! And the very same process of our waking mind
supposedly choosing to make a decision to do or not to do, any
particular Shakespearean thing; is not one bit different than our
spiritual or higher mind, equally acting out a
multiverse, literally, of decision processes, that we on the
mortal world, mislabel as mere 'dreams'.
Every dream that we experience is for us and only us, and it is given
to us, BY OUR TRUE SELVES. Allow me to further elaborate and explain
this to my great Morians and Blogaudians here.
SOUL
MIND VERSES WAKING MIND:
Well
people, soul mind explores, fully
retains any and all 'non-alligator'
items, is a natural super-sleuth, completely knows our absolute
truest desires, sends itself when allowed to (while the lower mind is
shut down during sleep), into multiple realms of hyperspace so as to
better shape our grasp on so-called 'REALITY'.
And
yes great people, waking mind
always agrees fully with our human sensory perceptions, is extremely
easily deceived by waking reality's many confusions, deceptions, and
illusions, and does all that it can, whenever it can, to conflict
with our truer and higher selves, that are labeled by our Almighty
Goddess SSJKK, in Her great and powerful Scriptures; as the
Carnal Mind!
This
should in multiple ways, make any really thinking person, see how
powerful our 'dreaming-life' truly is, as well as how the carnal
Earthly/worldly mind, really and truly for the most part, NEVER HAS
OUR BEST INTERESTS AT HEART! It could almost become song lyrics, but
the powerful nonchrisblumof501-Buttercheese situation here, is
anything butTERCHEESE-BUT A SIMPLE SONG,
kind folks out heredahelda, and out here as well, MISTER
Microsoft Spellchecker, so WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!
A
totally fantastic example to these words of Mister Marcucci's great
hippie-sixties wisdom heredahelda and here, would be, Mizz Erica
Susan Cane Lucci 1983 Snakes, THISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!
Oh yes, a very simple method of proving my simple words would be to
'just do this', Mizz Nancy buttwipe Reagan: To see that these two
SELF-MINDS are so utterly different, grab a large mug sized boiling
hot cup of Joe and sit down with it when you are so sleepy that you
most likely won't remain awake for another minute or less. Tired as
you are, and if you like my parents or my older daughter and just
love-love-love that Joe, well, your carnal mind wants to drink it and
definitely doesn't wish to be painfully scalded by it. But 'uh-oh',
Mister goddamn jerk off shark-shit 'Maaco', your truer higher
soul-self could care less about your Earthly life, and should you
indeed fall asleep on that comfy cozy chair with that scalding hot
cuppajoe, yo, POW, you will suddenly find yourself back awake here in
mortal life, screaming and calling yourself all sorts of horrible
curse word dummy-names, for letting that happen to you. Let us expand
a bit more and continue laying down some vely vely vely intelesting
foundations to all of thisSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, Mizz Erica 1983
spellchecker-Snakes!!!!!!!!!!
If
a powerful enough enemy of ours, in the fullness of
5th-dimensional-hyperspace, should suddenly and brutally assault us
badly enough and with sufficient intensity; then localized parallel
worlds such as the one where we are 'seemingly awake and living in
physically'; will also be effected, in numerous varying, and
sometimes numerous degrees. Now with me for an example, somehow and
for complicated reasons that I won't even begin attempting to tackle
right now on this one blog, back on the date
of 8-15-1986, THIS EXACT
NIGHTMARE EVENT DID HAPPEN TO ME. I personally however am
quite convinced that I am not the only person on this damn ass Earth
Planet, who has experienced this wild event, but yes, I do believe it
is a extremely rarely occurring event however. I have discussed this
deal with, you name it, psychiatrists, spiritual folks, family, and
friends, ever since it occurred back in August of '86. Not a soul
could ever so much as freaking point me to any answers even close to
what Morianity, after decades of research and blind relentless truth
searching and super sleuthing, finally came up with, and of course,
all of you know these informative sound bites on this blog, as
MOUNTAINPEN'S MORIANITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes peeps, somehow all of
thisSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, Mizz
Erica, DID INDEED happen to me, and not to you, Mister
Microsoft Spellchecker!!!
Let us quickly take a gander at this situation and closely examine a
few intelesting facts about my
trip to that parallel world the night before all hell broke loose for
me, and never ever looked back; Mister Bob
1972 McDowell from the great and
illustrious COOLEY HALL HIGH HELLapukeyuk AND HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!
For the many who may indeed remember a little bit about this event, I
now had been taken to some place where I had all
of the non-alligators, no folks, where I
HAD ALL of the Earthly things that anyone with a sane and rational
mind could ever consider to be fruit bearing and worthy, of words
such as our marvelous president's word choice, when discussing his
own life, yes, “marvelous”.
It appeared that I was 'dreaming' into a place where I had all of the
Earthly things that any man could or would ever choose or desire to
be connected into. A wonderful and loving family, a gigantic and
super successful land management corporation, wealth beyond anyone's
dreams of maximum avarice, and absolute peace of mind. But I also had
one more thing, and the great and powerful NON-OZ UNITED STATES
COPYRIGHT OFFICE EXAMINERS know only too well, all about that whittle
item. Yes folks, I had “The Permission Barrier” character,
fictional as he may have appeared to be, yo, Jim Pratt. This would be
Morianity's version of the Exploratronic Supermind Society's
TRAVELER, whom in this book, “TPB”, took on a more AAT character
persona form, that perhaps to the great Ancient Astronaut Theorists
would be my version of the mid-twenty-third century internet arcade
jacker-inner! Still, the Jesus miracles become explained quite well,
one way or another, huh Mister David Childress and NYU Professor
Michio Kaku?????????? The really powerful dogshit involved here
however, goes far beyond a fictional character or P4E
(Phase-4-Entity), who was using me to energize through so-2-speak,
but in real truth, thisSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS nonchrisblumof501
non ERICA-SNAKES ESS TRAVELER, was there, and was always there, and
of course, with tears dripping down my eyes right now as I speak/type
this whittle bwog-message out, IS STILL HERE, AND WILL OBVIOUSLY
ALWAYS BE HERE, to torment and destroy me, absolutely unrelentingly,
and who is this wonderful lovely queen of hell,
you dare to ask me? Huh, who the hellapukeyuk hell else,
Mister kind Spellchecker Microsecond Microsoft, but the
mighty KING, as in PAULA
KING!!!!!!!!!!!
The
only way to properly explain all of the mother fucking shit eating
hell that I have now suffered through, in this Mark Wayne Mountainpen
Huntington Mohr lifetime, is one name, and that would be the great
QUEEN FROM HELL, MIZZ PAULA KING OF ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY,
USA-EARTH-MILKY WAY GALAXY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have talked about, how in the casino game of Roulette,
if we do a particular thing with jotting down numbers that pop up on
the gaming wheels, and then never ever lose those numbers, but
endlessly take them home with us, and then continue applying certain
mathematical formulas that show when the short-term normal ratios
become diverged from, in groupings of several numbers, say using
seven of them for example; then we can play the
grouping that is hottest to come back after being too low for too
long. Gamblers call this figuring the
due numbers, and they try it on
individual games with millions of varying systems, all doomed to fail
of course. But this blog today has nothing
whatsoever to do with playing or profiting from the casino game
called ROULETTE. I am indeed taking something about this
however, and using it to further lay down the
foundations of hyperspace-mechanics, for lack of any other
better possible label or name to give this particular science. In
other words, since this weird mathematical shit
works, and thus Einstein's
'spooky-forces' as he himself called them, can be forced to
show up and reveal many post atomic sized truths; then we need to
further scrutinize many of these processes, and then we
may start to see other patterns that reveal themselves, in DREAMING,
as well as the big mama of all things;
USING ALL OF THIS TO ACCOMPLISH REAL LIFE
WAKING-WORLD STUFF, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
If for example, not one person butTERCHEESE
BUT ten
persons were to organize together, using this exact
mathematical methodology, they could march into a gaming
hall, and whether they actually gambled real money on anything, “OR
NAUT”, MIZZ 1983 AT&T BLAKE; they would indeed, and in
quite a large way, be INTENTIONALLY ALTERING the outcomes of the
wheel. The less people who were not at that wheel besides those ten
peeps who are in on this, the greater the effect, just as the less
people in a group who tries to perform this action would also lessen
the effect. It all would come into play, and eventually, I
am sure that some super genius computer programmer will read
Morianity, understand what's getting spoken of here, and then go onto
actually write a program that would show a pretty damn ass accurate
percentage of this 'Einsteinian
Spooky-Fawces-effect', on the
otherwise so-called randomly-operating gaming wheel. Now to
move this back to the foundation being laid here, and make a few
quick connections for my Blogaudians out there; and to be more
succinct in so far as drawing a parallel to my 1986 life changing
'dreaming' experience while I was living in that rental home on
Marlton Pike or Route 70, in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, #1931. Just as
in some powerful and awesome subatomic truth of associative numeric
particle and wave interactions, or more simply said, all items in a
very tiny reality unperceived by mortal waking human beings are some
kind of numeric patterned forces and attachments along string type
fabrics that make up our known universe, or multiverse/metaverse for
a truer expression herein. So registering in the subatomic tiny
worlds that none of us can or ever would be able to perceive or see
with our waking sensory systems, are connections and patterns that
are actually CAUSING those roulette numbers, and us as the players,
along with the rules of ratios and statistical mathematics, to all
and not alligators, but ALL HAPPEN just the way the forces make them
happen. I know this because on the Astral Plane, the COINS and the
COILS have told me this, or the GODS & GODDESSES! The Earth
Planet Goddess of Lightning who hovers all over our biosphere
continuously, and watches all of us with intense vigor, appearing to
be as random as any roulette wheel, but of course is anything
BUTTERCHEESE-B-U-T,
has told me many things, such as HER MAGICAL
27 NUMBER, and how to use
PARALLEL-EVENT to beat individual Roulette games, and much
more. Her entire Arteemis family live in
Olympia proper, in the east-central-nestern area of the
Province of Olympia, in the great Purgatory; that the
scientific community calls, the PLANK
TIME! There is a lot more!!!!
SATURDAY,
JANUARY 5, 2019
7:40
POST MERIDIAN
BLOG
3 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
I
awoke today to some really weird mother fucking shit, kind Sheriff
Mascara, sir, yo! I went into my fucking kitchen to take my
medication, and POWERHOUSE-POW, Mister Spellchecker; MY KITCHEN HAD
DIRTY WATER IN IT. Some mother fucker has fucking screwed with my
drainage AGAIN here in this wovewee fucking cunt eating PUBLIC
HOUSING ENEMY RIDDLED AUTHORITY, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!! I dumped
a quarter of a bottle of dishwashing liquid into the mess and added a
ton of boiling hot water, and it has all drained away, FOR NOW,
SHERIFF SIR, but when I went to bed around noon, sir, there was
absolutely nothing wrong, and my sink was bone dry empty and totally
fucking cunt cleaner than a damn ass whistle, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo, American Civil Liberties Union
(ACLU)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
©
BOM, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2014
theansweristheqyuestion
http:/theansweristheqyuestioncontinued.com
© 2006-2019
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile
views - 3009
My blogs
About me
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Industry
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Occupation
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Location
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|
Introduction
|
Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can
honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or
have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through
hyperspace, with awareness. Fun is replaced
with 'intense'.
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You forgot your mom's
birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?
at the risk of sounding
negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of is that you cannot
be sure of anything. Sorry for my rotten bad
attitude, gorgeous Twinbay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mark Wayne 'Mountainpen Huntington' Mohr
Contact
me
On
Blogger since December 2011
As
of 2011, Profile views – 500
I
am very proud of my Huntington family!
DECEMBER
25, 2014,
THURSDAY
AFTERNOON AT 1:32,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 69 DEGREES FNHT.
Humidity
is 51%, feeling 69.
TODAY'S
TEMPERATURE RANGE: (H-76/L-52)
WIND
IS WSW AT 6, WITH GUSTS AT 27.
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She
told me she is always watching me and never told me she was the
goddess
of Lightning.
We are leaving this right here for right now, lovely LOO-HEARTS, you
go girl, and hey Letty-girl, choo up to YO??? Who she, you ask, well;
lovely Diana Arteemis, the goddess of lightning? In a higher reality
and truth, she
is giant coil of unbelievable pure colorful energy.
I love her so much, I die inside every single day that I must live in
a physical body & away from the love of my eternal rotten lousy
life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The first time she
allowed me to remember her as this awesome coil, was late spring or
early summer time in 1984, while
residing at 506 Robin Hill Apartments, in Voorhees township, New
Jersey.
The smallest pin prick on the world map above would be larger than
Voorhees, most likely, WOW, and WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
This
may sound shocking, but I would not trade places with anyone of you
who don't have my problems and hell, not a one, not for a dam minute,
and here's why. I couldn't live for an entire minute, all dumbed down
and blind to shit all around me. I would actually rather be suffering
in my eternal fucking hell!!!!!!!!!! Also, and in reiteration; 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'!!!!!!!!!!!
And
speaking of those days and times of my residing at the Robin Hill
Apartments, at #506, Nonwaterhosedreams and
Nonchrisblumof501; this is where I was living when I
went to that wild THROAT SPECIALISTS OFFICE and somehow,
Mister Childress and Professor Kaku of NYU,
lost my entire memory, then, as well as
to this very day; of the return drive back home to that address, from
Grant Avenue in Northeast Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania!!!!!!!!!! Let us discuss some more about this,
since some mother fucking bastard thinks it so cunt eating eternally
funny to fuck with my goddamn ass kitchen sink, Mister Rump!!!!!!!
Yes, 'let us keep our DAMN JOBS',
Detective L&O Green, and U.S.
© Examiners of 2007!!!!
WHAAAAA-HA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MISTER MCN!
Not
until very late last year, did I start putting together all of the
stuff I have enjoyed watching and learning about on those totally ass
marvelous television educational cable channels such as PBS, History
Channel, and Science Channel, pertaining to the AAT and their ideas
and concepts on ALIENS & UFOLOGY.
Hey, I do not agree with the aliens, and physical ships junk, where
they supposedly have a home base somewhere in this hypersphere
expansion that we call the universe. I have
other knowledge and experiences, and they have all been told about
and blogged for thirteen mother fucking years now since January
of 2006, yo. There are no secrets in Morianity. Mountainpen is
not writing a book of secrets, nor is this some type of spin off that
many have labeled and so told me, A dream blog, an occult blog, an
Atlantic City blog, or a Mariah Carey blog. I am merely quoting what
some have spoken to me over this thirteen year period, or maybe ten
year period for that last item, from a couple of persons who I
believe are global traveling secret agents of the United States of
America, and hey, I have been right before, and I have been not so
right B4, yo!!!! Let us get back on Archibald Bunkerqueens 'pernt'
now folks, and further discuss the day in 1984 that I drove over to
Philly and the Throat Specialists Office. TEE-HEE-HEE!!!!
Many
people are involved in this matter, and the United
States government as well as global
powers, ALL FULLY KNOW IT!!! Just as they are covering
up what is happening to the populations of this Earth Planet,
in an extremely huge and bizarre conspiracy, on matters that the AAT
folks talk about, they ALSO are totally
blocking the MORIANITY story from ever seeing the light of day in any
real and meaningful way, you know, my blog going viral, or
some such similar thing. I learned first hand
when I tried using SOCIAL
MEDIA,
in the opening part of this present time decade, to do just that;
THAT I AM IN NO WAY PARANOID OR IMAGING ANY OF THIS 'ARTHUR CRANE
STUFF', ABOUT ME BEING TOTALLY AND
100% STIFLED, YO!!!!
There
was a weird radio, along with many extremely expensive
electronic and musical devices, that were in
this 'HOUSE OF NAKEDNESS', as I've come to label it as, for
obvious reasons. No one was wearing anything but their birthday
suits. Also, various peeps of authority would be inside of this
place, mostly police lieutenants or captains, in various interactions
that I would come to experience through the years, in what
you all insist on calling DREAMS.
And yes, just as here in waking life, I was always disliked, and I
could feel the tension and the anger, from many of the people who
were in authority; as if I was some really bad
person who had just made the damn ass FBI's most wanted list or
something. Then around the early years of this present century
or close to two decades later after this return trip from my
doctor on that 1984 afternoon in Philly, PAULA
KING would appear to me right near her WAYV-RADIO
STATION, and not to tell me or any of my fellow Hammonton, New
Jersey citizens, to hang in there during any wildfires, BUTTTTTTTTT,
and I said 'BIG
ASS' BUTTTTTTTTT FOLKS; just as I
said over and over back in my 2006 and 2007 blogs; and no,
this is not a MC-BLOG, BUTTTTTTTTT
it may appear to be from time to time; but yes the letter D
is NOT B4 the letter B, and just as the
letter G is NOT B4 the letter D,
nor is the number 2009 B4 the numbers of
2006 or 2007;
Mister WHAAAAHA-AHA-AHA 1971 Mike Church Farm
School McNulty, and the great
Copyright Examiners know it, or KNEW
IT, some time back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, the
mighty and outlandish Paula King would
appear to me in Atlantic City,
and right near her mighty radio station,
that she has used to tease me, play with me, screw with me, and
reveal multiple messages to me, kind Professor Kaku sir, and Mister
New-age-author David Childress, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, I AM INDEED A
HANGING IN THERE HUNTINGTON FROM HAMMONTON, LOVELY SUPER GODDESS
PAULA, and I do not want to marry you, not then, not now, at least
not in your persona as PK, but in your other persona as PH, I did.
BUTTTTTTTTT, I suppose as you said so perfectly, I was just way too
damn ass immature, so WEEEEEEEE!
Still,
my Morians/Blogaudians, yo; she in some parallel world in hyperspace,
or in these recurring dreams ever since early in this present century
times, continues to tell me that she wants me to get her that radio
from that unfathomable house of nakedness from 1984. The house of
radios, electronics, musical amplifiers, and yes, naughtiness and
nakedness, not to mention lots of police presence and by the way,
they are always in full uniform, just as I am always fully clothed,
and always trying to be and act my part as the perfect gentlemen.
Even the mighty DAWN-MARIE KING, used to
tell me that I always acted the part of a perfect gentlemen, when I
would transport her female friends to various places. That's me
folks, the endlessly misunderstood and persecuted
'perfect-gentleman'. WEEEEEEE!
But about this strange radio. It seemed to be a tachyon-radio, and it
was able to pick up signals that were not yet broadcast; since it was
able to tune into distant points out in 'the expansion' or
(outer-space), and in the antimatter realms, where time is of course
running in total reverse to what it does here when the polarities of
subatomic particles are running, by our frame of reference anyway, in
FORWARD-mode! She told me in the summer time of
last year, 2018, in one of these powerhouse dreams, that if I didn't
get her that radio, she would take me back to the hotel
balcony in the year of 1967,
and this time, THROW ME OFF OF IT FOR
REALE. Maybe I should have said, for real, but I
just couldn't resist the garden of Eden 'temptation' to add the damn
letter-E; oh great U.S. © Office.
Mortimer Mortino the Death Angel is passing by my right side as I
type these words now, at precisely 8:55 Post Meridian on this early
middle Saturday evening, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But then folks,
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD, or same old same old, what else is new, same shit
different day????????? Aniwho, just exactly why Patty/Paula wants me
to get her this wild tachyon radio, I of course am totally clueless
to, as always. All of the things that this wild Exploratronic
Supermind entity does, is inconceivable and unimaginable. Trying to
figure out any goddamn woman is difficult as all men fully are aware
of, BUTTTTTTTTT Patty/Paula? Well, that is a recipe for disaster and
a migraine headache combination that I don't need, Mizz
Ross-Ness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAA! Patty-Paula has somehow fucking
hacked my Personal Computer (PC) and it won't allow me to mother
fucking make a new line,so I'll have to do it another mother fucking
way, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!
HA-HA-HA
PATTY-PAULA, LIGHT UP SOME CANDLES FOR ME NOW, AND TELL MISTER COOLEY
HALL HIGH HELLapukeyuk HELL that I said, OHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM! And
pweeeeeeeeze don't fucking shoot poor old twisted diseased piano
playing Mister Marcucci, Yellow Brick Road Traveler Mister EJ, or
poor whittle fucking me, the pathetic and Non-Ronstadt pitiful
Mountainpen that is AKA ME, MARK WAYNE MOHR, of non BUTTERCHEESE Bryn
Mawr, non Starburn, Pennsylvania! WOW, all
Joann persons everywhere, from
hookers to recording studio employees. YES
FWOLKS, I weelwee fucking wish that my brain allowed me to forget
things, only IT DOES NOT,
not fucking cunt ass ever, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
NO
STAIR CHASES TODAY, M.C.
END
TWANSMISSION, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!
THIS
DOGTOWNITE, AND
THIS
HUMAN-HYBRID, IS SIGNING OFF.
Blood
type---A
neg. Eye
color---green-hazel
END
TRANSMISSION
END
TRANSMISSION
END
TRANSMISSION
END
TRANSMISSION
FRIDAY,
JANUARY 4, 2019
9:57
ANTE' MERIDIAN
BLOG
2 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
FEELING
CLOSE TO 90 THESE DAYS:
It
is ungodly mother fucking HOT!!!!!! Life totally sucks,
and this demonic heat is total goddamn murder on quintessential
steroids. This middle eighties shit in
late December and early
January, totally blows and sucks rooster turds. Every time the
weather is wild and ridiculous, and
having shit this hot even in my area, is the epitome of Camp
Chesapeake, and Mack Kaiter the camp
counselor. I have observed all my damn ass life, when it is either
ungodly hot or cold, or when there are super snow blizzards when I
lived up north long ago; this is always when the shit in my life
would follow suit. Nothing ever changes for the goddamn snot puffing
Mountainpen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not ever!!!!
When
those famous and terrific agents, mentioned in that wild and cool
television show, on New York City's WPIX-Channel-11,
back in 1988;
Agents Condor
and Agent Falcon,
told their story on that fantastic documentary; it
took me three solid decades to realize that the
topic of UFOLOGY, misunderstood as it may be by the Earth
Planet population, as of early in 2019; is indeed what is behind all
of my woes, and all of my so many outlandish
and mysterious people who have made 'contact'
with me, in one way or form, or another; for my entire life.
Patty Hollister may have been the main
character, or Paula King, or whoever or whatever we may wish
to call her; and along with these whittle pirate facts and
“YARRRRRRR's”, and buckin'
fuckin' pirate hats, yes I still am wondering how Patty and her pal
Santa are doing these goddamn days, yo????? You know, I actually had
people ask me to have 'him' place them on his 'NICE-LIST', after the
day he helped me move from apartment to apartment, back on March
first, in the year of 1975. I am sure it was
done jokingly, Misses Pennock; but still, Lenny; and all
Lenny's for that matter; I think some people were truly wondering a
whole lot of fucking shit about me, way back then. Hey, don't fucking
feel bad. I was wondering about myself, Mister
Rod Serling,
yo! After-all, you tormented me
with your sick demented evil WAYV
radio station; oh mighty
Patty-Paula????? For those who may be unaware of all of
the fucking nightmarish circumstances involved here; David Roth and I
would have many serious talks over a totally fucking 'Ed
Snowed In'
bugged up telephone, Mister
BLUE-NUNNGEN; and he would always joke about that exact
song, “Feel Real”, and how as
he put it so crudely, Thomas J. Reale of Ventnor, and Northfield,
New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; molested me back when I was fifteen years
fucking old, at his home that he sold to the
ACMUA
waterworks of Atlantic City, on Cornwall Avenue, back
in July of 1970. There is a
connection and a message, built into every single event in the entire
universe and multiverse. We literally cannot escape that reality,
hard as any of us may wish to make such a fucking attempt, and
IPYT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All that mother
fucking bullshit casino
teasing and harassment,
it was PAULA
AND DADDY JOHN
KING
behind all of it, the entire mother fucking dirtbag time,
yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
why do we choose (in our spirit),
to explore the various parallel doppelgangers (doubles) of ourselves,
in the virtually limitless fifth dimensional hyperspace? To answer
that, we first need to examine more down to Earth similarities.
Exactly why do we all make the many multiple choices (in waking life)
that we do? You know, where to go or to stay inside on any given day,
why we call a friend, or don't, why we post this up or that up on
social media, for the majority of social media users out there, why
we choose to pursue a potential mate, apply for a particular job, and
the list goes on endlessly, and all of it on some kind of a precise
time schedule. After-all, if we look back at our life in any given
day or week or month or what have you, you can see that a hindsight
view will always reflect the reality of being literally a part of
some gargantuan sized cosmic program of virtually limitless options
and menu choices, a second at a time, from womb to tomb. So
are these potential waking life decision options, a sort of
reflection or similarity of some kind, to the decisions that our
spirit or dreaming-mind travels to, and 'dreams through'? Put
very simply and parochially here, while awake, Joe Shmo may
say to himself, should I go out and take a walk on the damn beach
today, or not, since it is cloudy, and I don't want to be caught
outside in the rain? Then that night after falling into his bed, and
he drifts away from his consciousness to this waking reality; is the
very same process of decisions, following him and instructing him to
dream-travel into this or that, for some particular reason? The
answer is an unequivocal YES, kind folks. Our truer or higher
self, is indeed some amount of pure energy, that goes onto become
that 'brain-activity', that your matter-mind permits a connection
into the physical material world, from. So absolutely, just as we
operate with conscious lower self mind in the world of awake-ness, we
likewise operate quite similarly when we travel the hyperspace in
spirit, or 'sleep and dream'. But as we
make our so-called 'free-will' decisions in waking world life, and
this same mind-brain system is doing likewise in our nocturnal
existence, just how truly free is FREE
WILL? You may think that YOU made the decision, you know,
to quote the old song perfectly here, should
I stay or should I go, or should I do this or that, or
not, or whatever; but what is finally actually MAKING
YOU or CAUSING YOU, to arrive at
a selection/decision? You may think that this is your free will, but
it is just like deciding what you are going TO DREAM ABOUT! How
many liars out here want to try and feed me the epitome of bullshit,
and tell me that they can dream anything that they want to, and
control it like it is some super great future VR-program? And
for that matter, what then is really happening in a so-called virtual
reality program, where you can enter a computer generated reality,
and control the entire thing? Carl Sagan said
it so perfectly to the great 99th
Congress, on a televised show that I happen to see one night, while
living at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments. We can now, “Up
it one dimension”. Whose VR-PROGRAM are we in while we
believe our self to be awake, and for that matter, when we believe
our self to be asleep? Anyone who believes literally, that someone
somewhere has a gigantic computer, and that we are all inside of its
program, is a true fruitcake. The truth is that even though this is
not the exact case and point right down to the nth degree, the effect
and the result is that it may as well be as if this was what is going
on. I know for a fact that there are Astral
Plane gods and goddesses,
that the AAT clubbers call the aliens, and that the religious people
call the angels, the demons, and Satan and God. I know for a fact
that the PLANK-TIME is reality, and all of this is a powerful dream
where we fall off of that reality when we get so low in energy that
we need to refuel or regain a new supply. There is just enough drag
in the Purgatory to cause this slow drain due to the slightest amount
of weight that this Astral or spiritual realm contains. It may be a
zillion-zillion-zillionths of a microsecond long and be a
zillion-zillion-zillionths of the size of a grain of sand, but as we
exist there, we too are this much tinier, and in fact, our comparison
is virtually limitless times this in ratio, as we are much smaller in
this ratio, and our entire universe appears to be the size of a pea
in comparison while we exist there. Also, no one is experimenting
with humanity, no one has plans for us, good or bad, and the entire
thing is a game. We love games because
we are in the image of these
energy-entities (GODS/GODDESSES), and
they love games, but they love
games because to them, it is the ultimate and extremely necessary
distraction. This distraction is to keep them from dwelling and
reflecting on the reality that dogs all of us existors/Purgatites,
and that is ABSOLUTE ENDLESSNESS!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
news last night had an item that I'll admit, is blowing my mother
fucking mind. Let me start with the story on my end of the stick, and
then, I'll tie in this news item. Practically every Blogaudian out
here will be amazed at this tale. I made a miscalculation regarding
my anti-poverty plan, and told how Starburn
Outreach Development Incorporated, or STARBURNODI
for short, is a plan to eventually eradicate poverty out of the
United States, and I misstated the financial objective and goal that
is necessary to begin putting this incredible business plan into
action, saying it would requite an amassing of ten trillion dollars,
(USD). In fact, the amount is closer to half of this, and I have made
an error on my paperwork. But I have the entire plan written down, so
that anyone who would ever view it, would see that I just screwed up
and thought I would need ten rather than about half of this amount.
When I went out to my nut-job clinic last week, I believe that
someone was in here, and saw these notes that I have written down in
scribble form. I absolutely feel that these notes were viewed. Last
night on the international and local news, a man was arrested in Palm
Beach for breaking into Trump's Mara-logo Estate. He was insisting on
talking to Trump about this exact same amount of money. I find this
astonishing and beyond even my typical outlandish twilight zonish
life's experience! WOW-JOANN-A!
Last
night on that great “L&O” show that is very hard to see on TV
any more, I saw that episode from early this century, called, “Whose
Monkey Is It anyway”? I am in the mood to add my little
bit of spin about several things, and one of them pertains 100
percent to this episode. I totally believe that extremely evil
criminals who are incarcerated for terrible crimes, SHOULD
BE IN LAB-RAT-PRISON. I feel that they should have to submit
to medical research. Forget death penalties, or torture or pain for
pain's sake; as that is unconstitutional. Still, to make up for the
horrible fucking shit that these beyond evil monsters do the
innocent, I believe that they should have to do this, and if they
croak, well, fuck you, then you croak. I don't disagree with many
many things that my distant-cuzz Donald believes. I am not a
Republican, nor am I a Democrat. I am split about down the damn
middle, agreeing and disagreeing with about half of the shit that
both of these parties are for. Here is a way to really get even with
those who hurt us and laugh at us, and not violate the constitution.
Many things need to be tested out, and no better people are there
than them, for just that purpose. WHAAAAA!
When
I went out to pay me rent earlier today, I had a very strange event
happen to me, AGAIN,
as my middle name as we all know is HUNTINGTON
TWILIGHT
ZONE!
I rode down the damn elevator with a lady and her little CHI-DOG, and
everything was fine. But after I paid the rent, this same lady was
again right there, and just as she was walking into the gate of this
building, I was driving into it. As I opened the door for her to the
lobby entrance, the dog suddenly tried to attack me, and nearly bit
my right leg. That would have been a lawsuit,
but the only problem is, what lawsuit? Nobody here has a penny, just
like me. The only mother fucking suit would be the one that IS NOT
hanging up in my whittle fwucking cwoset, Mister goddamn Elmer
Fwudd!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAA! Still, why was her dog so nice to me ten
minutes earlier, and then pow, out of
nowhere, the little fucking bastard wanted a chunk of my leg? Reminds
me of Jim Burr's
dog, and the Cifaloglio dog,
WHOOLIO-JULY. All
loyal fucking Blogaudians know these true tales from
Nightmare Grove!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION, and AHA-AHA-AHA!
I've
got fucking roaches all over the goddamn apartment no matter how much
I spray the RAID or how clean I
keep the place. I have the ILLEGAL GUESTS
around here slamming the goddamn fucking doors today, kind Sheriff,
sir. It's more fucking fun around here than Alice
Ciminelli, and her barrel of jail
bird American Honda guardhouse conversations, sent
to the U.S. Copyright Office, on 1988's Valentine's Day
monkeys!!!!!!!!!!!!! I believe that I
have been hit with another health assault on top of this, Sheriff.
Another horrible fucking year is beginning for me, oh wonderful kind
sir!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, my heavenly and marvelous life, measured by the
standards of anti-matter, is just making me so thankful and
appreciative of the blessings that flow from such a wonderful fucking
GODDESS, who sends songs in my sleep that altered my life, and so
many grand and glorious fucking things! So
thanks a lot, Almighty Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Karge Krassle, Sheriff
K.J.M., and “thanks
a lot, DAVE”!!!!!!!!!!!
YARRRRRR, Patty Hollister, maybe me buckin' hat's on crooked or
something. WOW-THAT!!!!
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Yes
folks, we can definitely call that my
Mountainpen's
Morianity
Quotation
or (MMQ) or anything else you may wish
to, as this won't alter the following truth: When the famous and
terrific agents, mentioned in that wild and cool report-documentary
on New York City's
WPIX-Channel-11-television show,
back in 1988
non-Spellchecker monkeys; Agents Condor
and Agent Falcon,
said that people who open up their mouth, and say things that are
not allowed to be said; those people will not be able to get a moment
of peace for the rest of their lives; how does this then fit into
those who were on the receiving end of all of this horrible monstrous
mother fucking turd swallowing junk, LONG
BEFORE they
ever uttered a single goddamn word?
THAT, oh great SIR ROCKDROID of the original STAR TREK SHOW, is the
real Shakespearean query of the ages, on kind peeps and loyal
Blogaudians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes THAT
is the question, Mister Bill
Shakespeare, YO!
How
I'll never ever fucking forget, ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, telling me how
all of my damn answers to all of this nasty-ass mess; lays in the
town of Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Right after he told me this
incredible fucking shit, kind Sheriff KJM sir, POW, “My
goddess non son of Sam girlfriend”, came over to my apartment and
raped me, and this led to the
miscarriage of my younger daut, PEE!
And then there was the wild dream a few years afterward, where
I was back at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments,
and Paula
came over to visit with me and tell me
how I was too immature and that she refused to marry me, and that she
had recently miscarried our child PEE. This
is how transdimensional hyperspace works.
We cannot go getting ourselves all fucking hung up on minor whittle
details such as an event happening in one universe and not happening
in another one that lies in localized hyperspace. No Spellchecker,
the hypERCHRIST
has absolutely nothing to do with any of this, OR
DOES IT, come to reflect on it
heredahelda and here, kind folks!!! I mean for crissake, it isn't
every day that I am stopped and searched like a criminal by the
authorities, for just sitting and telling a man about something from
my childhood. But it sure happened that particular day in Medford
Lakes, in the springtime of 1986. Maybe
this is why the satanic demons of hellfire itself, struck Dave Roth
and me so very hard, as after-all, it
was directly following all of this,
along with a tiny whittle detour through another Mister
Rod Serling's Twilight Zone; called
that special talk that took place in the
spring time in the following year of 1986, at the Medport
Diner, in Medford Lakes, New
Jersey; regarding the “Great Sarah
Krassle”.
Along with these whittle pirate facts and YARRRRRRR's, and buckin'
fuckin' pirate hats, I am wondering how Patty and her pal Santa are
doing these goddamn days, yo????????????? But then, like who gives a
fucking shit, to quote the kids who cuss?! Alligators or ALL I'M
SAYING is that long B4I ever had a blog, or even shot off my mouth on
RED-LINE-CROSSOVER
topics, or said boo about shit; I have been given a no-peace
persecution by these monstrous evil
mother fucking HALLS-FAWCES. So it is
not like anyone out here can go screaming into my ear, “Hey
Mountainpen, this is all your own fault”, as my kid did about
alligators, when I complained about all of these horrible things all
over this place, and she said that I had made my bed and must now lay
in it. Hey, she's totally right. Still,
was this all my fault for real? Was this all my fault for REALE, for
that matter? Was it me who teased you or
you who teased me, every mother fucking time that I came down in 1997
to try and relax on the beach, and you
tormented me with your sick demented evil WAYV
radio station, oh
mighty Patty-Paula?????????
WOW
THISssssssssssssssssssssssssssss, Mizz Susan Erica AMC Snakes from
1983. Yes, Patty-Paula may very well be Sarah Krassle, or
spelled with a fuller ASTRAL-PLANE name, SARAH-STACEY
JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE. Yes there is pure magic in this
incredible entity named Sarah Krassle
Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah
Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle!
Why
go to so much trouble doing al of these things, beginning with Misses
Cooley Hall High Hell Marola, on Memorial Day of 1969, May 30th,
and going all the way so far, up to the stunt pulled in waking life
while I was at my non-choker Darius Evans Cifaloglio security job in
2009, two years before the transdimensional-choking deal, and right
around the Lakehouse-choking deal, but yes, always (choking-1983
deals); with that WAYV magical stunt she pulled on me with the Regis
Threat and magically getting me to tune into it from my car while on
that job. Things like this JUST DON'T HAPPEN,
not in any real life or real world, and not with this sort of endless
fucking repetitiveness; and I know that you all know that, and
I'm not being WAYV-cute heredahelda and
HERE, yo! There was a night a few years earlier where I was at my
trailer, #10 at the great and illustrious Mullica Mobile Manor of
Mullica Township, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; and watching one of those
two famous magicians on television. I forget whether it was Blaine or
Copperfield, but it was one of the David's. Tee-Hee-Hee. He told
everyone out in the TV audience to think of a card. We
all did, and HE GUESSED IT;
and that would be a one in fifty-two chance; and I don't buy into
chances, or long shots like that. Yes longer shots than this do
indeed happen, and with more frequency than we all might think would
be the case, BUTTTTTTTTT folks, I know that he did something, and I
know that night at Cifaloglio with Patty-Paula, that she did that
very same 'something'; and then things happened. Just because
I am unable to properly explain it, I STILL AM
ABLE TO FULLY REPORT IT to the goddamn mother fucking world, yo,
and you can bet I do, and will go right on screaming out my pain.
This monster and all of her FAWCES are behind it.
ENDLESSNESS,
END TRAnsdimensional, &
END
TRANSMISSION.
THE
HUMAN HUNTINGTON HYBRID IS NOW
SIGNING
OFF OF THE INTERNET!!!!!!!!!
SATURDAY,
JANUARY 5, 2019
7:40
POST MERIDIAN
BLOG
3 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
I
awoke today to some really weird mother fucking shit, kind Sheriff
Mascara, sir, yo! I went into my fucking kitchen to take my
medication, and POWERHOUSE-POW, Mister Spellchecker; MY KITCHEN HAD
DIRTY WATER IN IT. Some mother fucker has fucking screwed with my
drainage AGAIN here in this wovewee fucking cunt eating PUBLIC
HOUSING ENEMY RIDDLED AUTHORITY, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!! I dumped
a quarter of a bottle of dishwashing liquid into the mess and added a
ton of boiling hot water, and it has all drained away, FOR NOW,
SHERIFF SIR, but when I went to bed around noon, sir, there was
absolutely nothing wrong, and my sink was bone dry empty and totally
fucking cunt cleaner than a damn ass whistle, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo, American Civil Liberties Union
(ACLU)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
©
BOM, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2014
theansweristheqyuestion
http:/theansweristheqyuestioncontinued.com
© 2006-2019
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Not
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You forgot your mom's
birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?
at the risk of sounding
negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of is that you cannot
be sure of anything. Sorry for my rotten bad
attitude, gorgeous Twinbay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mark Wayne 'Mountainpen Huntington' Mohr
Contact
me
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Blogger since December 2011
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of 2011, Profile views – 500
I
am very proud of my Huntington family!
DECEMBER
25, 2014,
THURSDAY
AFTERNOON AT 1:32,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 69 DEGREES FNHT.
Humidity
is 51%, feeling 69.
TODAY'S
TEMPERATURE RANGE: (H-76/L-52)
WIND
IS WSW AT 6, WITH GUSTS AT 27.
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Audience |
She
told me she is always watching me and never told me she was the
goddess
of Lightning.
We are leaving this right here for right now, lovely LOO-HEARTS, you
go girl, and hey Letty-girl, choo up to YO??? Who she, you ask, well;
lovely Diana Arteemis, the goddess of lightning? In a higher reality
and truth, she
is giant coil of unbelievable pure colorful energy.
I love her so much, I die inside every single day that I must live in
a physical body & away from the love of my eternal rotten lousy
life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The first time she
allowed me to remember her as this awesome coil, was late spring or
early summer time in 1984, while
residing at 506 Robin Hill Apartments, in Voorhees township, New
Jersey.
The smallest pin prick on the world map above would be larger than
Voorhees, most likely, WOW, and WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
This
may sound shocking, but I would not trade places with anyone of you
who don't have my problems and hell, not a one, not for a dam minute,
and here's why. I couldn't live for an entire minute, all dumbed down
and blind to shit all around me. I would actually rather be suffering
in my eternal fucking hell!!!!!!!!!! Also, and in reiteration; 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'!!!!!!!!!!!
And
speaking of those days and times of my residing at the Robin Hill
Apartments, at #506, Nonwaterhosedreams and
Nonchrisblumof501; this is where I was living when I
went to that wild THROAT SPECIALISTS OFFICE and somehow,
Mister Childress and Professor Kaku of NYU,
lost my entire memory, then, as well as
to this very day; of the return drive back home to that address, from
Grant Avenue in Northeast Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania!!!!!!!!!! Let us discuss some more about this,
since some mother fucking bastard thinks it so cunt eating eternally
funny to fuck with my goddamn ass kitchen sink, Mister Rump!!!!!!!
Yes, 'let us keep our DAMN JOBS',
Detective L&O Green, and U.S.
© Examiners of 2007!!!!
WHAAAAA-HA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MISTER MCN!
Not
until very late last year, did I start putting together all of the
stuff I have enjoyed watching and learning about on those totally ass
marvelous television educational cable channels such as PBS, History
Channel, and Science Channel, pertaining to the AAT and their ideas
and concepts on ALIENS & UFOLOGY.
Hey, I do not agree with the aliens, and physical ships junk, where
they supposedly have a home base somewhere in this hypersphere
expansion that we call the universe. I have
other knowledge and experiences, and they have all been told about
and blogged for thirteen mother fucking years now since January
of 2006, yo. There are no secrets in Morianity. Mountainpen is
not writing a book of secrets, nor is this some type of spin off that
many have labeled and so told me, A dream blog, an occult blog, an
Atlantic City blog, or a Mariah Carey blog. I am merely quoting what
some have spoken to me over this thirteen year period, or maybe ten
year period for that last item, from a couple of persons who I
believe are global traveling secret agents of the United States of
America, and hey, I have been right before, and I have been not so
right B4, yo!!!! Let us get back on Archibald Bunkerqueens 'pernt'
now folks, and further discuss the day in 1984 that I drove over to
Philly and the Throat Specialists Office. TEE-HEE-HEE!!!!
Many
people are involved in this matter, and the United
States government as well as global
powers, ALL FULLY KNOW IT!!! Just as they are covering
up what is happening to the populations of this Earth Planet,
in an extremely huge and bizarre conspiracy, on matters that the AAT
folks talk about, they ALSO are totally
blocking the MORIANITY story from ever seeing the light of day in any
real and meaningful way, you know, my blog going viral, or
some such similar thing. I learned first hand
when I tried using SOCIAL
MEDIA,
in the opening part of this present time decade, to do just that;
THAT I AM IN NO WAY PARANOID OR IMAGING ANY OF THIS 'ARTHUR CRANE
STUFF', ABOUT ME BEING TOTALLY AND
100% STIFLED, YO!!!!
There
was a weird radio, along with many extremely expensive
electronic and musical devices, that were in
this 'HOUSE OF NAKEDNESS', as I've come to label it as, for
obvious reasons. No one was wearing anything but their birthday
suits. Also, various peeps of authority would be inside of this
place, mostly police lieutenants or captains, in various interactions
that I would come to experience through the years, in what
you all insist on calling DREAMS.
And yes, just as here in waking life, I was always disliked, and I
could feel the tension and the anger, from many of the people who
were in authority; as if I was some really bad
person who had just made the damn ass FBI's most wanted list or
something. Then around the early years of this present century
or close to two decades later after this return trip from my
doctor on that 1984 afternoon in Philly, PAULA
KING would appear to me right near her WAYV-RADIO
STATION, and not to tell me or any of my fellow Hammonton, New
Jersey citizens, to hang in there during any wildfires, BUTTTTTTTTT,
and I said 'BIG
ASS' BUTTTTTTTTT FOLKS; just as I
said over and over back in my 2006 and 2007 blogs; and no,
this is not a MC-BLOG, BUTTTTTTTTT
it may appear to be from time to time; but yes the letter D
is NOT B4 the letter B, and just as the
letter G is NOT B4 the letter D,
nor is the number 2009 B4 the numbers of
2006 or 2007;
Mister WHAAAAHA-AHA-AHA 1971 Mike Church Farm
School McNulty, and the great
Copyright Examiners know it, or KNEW
IT, some time back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh yes, the
mighty and outlandish Paula King would
appear to me in Atlantic City,
and right near her mighty radio station,
that she has used to tease me, play with me, screw with me, and
reveal multiple messages to me, kind Professor Kaku sir, and Mister
New-age-author David Childress, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, I AM INDEED A
HANGING IN THERE HUNTINGTON FROM HAMMONTON, LOVELY SUPER GODDESS
PAULA, and I do not want to marry you, not then, not now, at least
not in your persona as PK, but in your other persona as PH, I did.
BUTTTTTTTTT, I suppose as you said so perfectly, I was just way too
damn ass immature, so WEEEEEEEE!
Still,
my Morians/Blogaudians, yo; she in some parallel world in hyperspace,
or in these recurring dreams ever since early in this present century
times, continues to tell me that she wants me to get her that radio
from that unfathomable house of nakedness from 1984. The house of
radios, electronics, musical amplifiers, and yes, naughtiness and
nakedness, not to mention lots of police presence and by the way,
they are always in full uniform, just as I am always fully clothed,
and always trying to be and act my part as the perfect gentlemen.
Even the mighty DAWN-MARIE KING, used to
tell me that I always acted the part of a perfect gentlemen, when I
would transport her female friends to various places. That's me
folks, the endlessly misunderstood and persecuted
'perfect-gentleman'. WEEEEEEE!
But about this strange radio. It seemed to be a tachyon-radio, and it
was able to pick up signals that were not yet broadcast; since it was
able to tune into distant points out in 'the expansion' or
(outer-space), and in the antimatter realms, where time is of course
running in total reverse to what it does here when the polarities of
subatomic particles are running, by our frame of reference anyway, in
FORWARD-mode! She told me in the summer time of
last year, 2018, in one of these powerhouse dreams, that if I didn't
get her that radio, she would take me back to the hotel
balcony in the year of 1967,
and this time, THROW ME OFF OF IT FOR
REALE. Maybe I should have said, for real, but I
just couldn't resist the garden of Eden 'temptation' to add the damn
letter-E; oh great U.S. © Office.
Mortimer Mortino the Death Angel is passing by my right side as I
type these words now, at precisely 8:55 Post Meridian on this early
middle Saturday evening, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But then folks,
SOSO-WEIN-SSDD, or same old same old, what else is new, same shit
different day????????? Aniwho, just exactly why Patty/Paula wants me
to get her this wild tachyon radio, I of course am totally clueless
to, as always. All of the things that this wild Exploratronic
Supermind entity does, is inconceivable and unimaginable. Trying to
figure out any goddamn woman is difficult as all men fully are aware
of, BUTTTTTTTTT Patty/Paula? Well, that is a recipe for disaster and
a migraine headache combination that I don't need, Mizz
Ross-Ness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAA! Patty-Paula has somehow fucking
hacked my Personal Computer (PC) and it won't allow me to mother
fucking make a new line,so I'll have to do it another mother fucking
way, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!
HA-HA-HA
PATTY-PAULA, LIGHT UP SOME CANDLES FOR ME NOW, AND TELL MISTER COOLEY
HALL HIGH HELLapukeyuk HELL that I said, OHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM! And
pweeeeeeeeze don't fucking shoot poor old twisted diseased piano
playing Mister Marcucci, Yellow Brick Road Traveler Mister EJ, or
poor whittle fucking me, the pathetic and Non-Ronstadt pitiful
Mountainpen that is AKA ME, MARK WAYNE MOHR, of non BUTTERCHEESE Bryn
Mawr, non Starburn, Pennsylvania! WOW, all
Joann persons everywhere, from
hookers to recording studio employees. YES
FWOLKS, I weelwee fucking wish that my brain allowed me to forget
things, only IT DOES NOT,
not fucking cunt ass ever, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
NO
STAIR CHASES TODAY, M.C.
END
TWANSMISSION, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!
THIS
DOGTOWNITE, AND
THIS
HUMAN-HYBRID, IS SIGNING OFF.
Blood
type---A
neg. Eye
color---green-hazel
END
TRANSMISSION
END
TRANSMISSION
END
TRANSMISSION
END
TRANSMISSION
FRIDAY,
JANUARY 4, 2019
9:57
ANTE' MERIDIAN
BLOG
2 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
FEELING
CLOSE TO 90 THESE DAYS:
It
is ungodly mother fucking HOT!!!!!! Life totally sucks,
and this demonic heat is total goddamn murder on quintessential
steroids. This middle eighties shit in
late December and early
January, totally blows and sucks rooster turds. Every time the
weather is wild and ridiculous, and
having shit this hot even in my area, is the epitome of Camp
Chesapeake, and Mack Kaiter the camp
counselor. I have observed all my damn ass life, when it is either
ungodly hot or cold, or when there are super snow blizzards when I
lived up north long ago; this is always when the shit in my life
would follow suit. Nothing ever changes for the goddamn snot puffing
Mountainpen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not ever!!!!
When
those famous and terrific agents, mentioned in that wild and cool
television show, on New York City's WPIX-Channel-11,
back in 1988;
Agents Condor
and Agent Falcon,
told their story on that fantastic documentary; it
took me three solid decades to realize that the
topic of UFOLOGY, misunderstood as it may be by the Earth
Planet population, as of early in 2019; is indeed what is behind all
of my woes, and all of my so many outlandish
and mysterious people who have made 'contact'
with me, in one way or form, or another; for my entire life.
Patty Hollister may have been the main
character, or Paula King, or whoever or whatever we may wish
to call her; and along with these whittle pirate facts and
“YARRRRRRR's”, and buckin'
fuckin' pirate hats, yes I still am wondering how Patty and her pal
Santa are doing these goddamn days, yo????? You know, I actually had
people ask me to have 'him' place them on his 'NICE-LIST', after the
day he helped me move from apartment to apartment, back on March
first, in the year of 1975. I am sure it was
done jokingly, Misses Pennock; but still, Lenny; and all
Lenny's for that matter; I think some people were truly wondering a
whole lot of fucking shit about me, way back then. Hey, don't fucking
feel bad. I was wondering about myself, Mister
Rod Serling,
yo! After-all, you tormented me
with your sick demented evil WAYV
radio station; oh mighty
Patty-Paula????? For those who may be unaware of all of
the fucking nightmarish circumstances involved here; David Roth and I
would have many serious talks over a totally fucking 'Ed
Snowed In'
bugged up telephone, Mister
BLUE-NUNNGEN; and he would always joke about that exact
song, “Feel Real”, and how as
he put it so crudely, Thomas J. Reale of Ventnor, and Northfield,
New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; molested me back when I was fifteen years
fucking old, at his home that he sold to the
ACMUA
waterworks of Atlantic City, on Cornwall Avenue, back
in July of 1970. There is a
connection and a message, built into every single event in the entire
universe and multiverse. We literally cannot escape that reality,
hard as any of us may wish to make such a fucking attempt, and
IPYT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All that mother
fucking bullshit casino
teasing and harassment,
it was PAULA
AND DADDY JOHN
KING
behind all of it, the entire mother fucking dirtbag time,
yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
why do we choose (in our spirit),
to explore the various parallel doppelgangers (doubles) of ourselves,
in the virtually limitless fifth dimensional hyperspace? To answer
that, we first need to examine more down to Earth similarities.
Exactly why do we all make the many multiple choices (in waking life)
that we do? You know, where to go or to stay inside on any given day,
why we call a friend, or don't, why we post this up or that up on
social media, for the majority of social media users out there, why
we choose to pursue a potential mate, apply for a particular job, and
the list goes on endlessly, and all of it on some kind of a precise
time schedule. After-all, if we look back at our life in any given
day or week or month or what have you, you can see that a hindsight
view will always reflect the reality of being literally a part of
some gargantuan sized cosmic program of virtually limitless options
and menu choices, a second at a time, from womb to tomb. So
are these potential waking life decision options, a sort of
reflection or similarity of some kind, to the decisions that our
spirit or dreaming-mind travels to, and 'dreams through'? Put
very simply and parochially here, while awake, Joe Shmo may
say to himself, should I go out and take a walk on the damn beach
today, or not, since it is cloudy, and I don't want to be caught
outside in the rain? Then that night after falling into his bed, and
he drifts away from his consciousness to this waking reality; is the
very same process of decisions, following him and instructing him to
dream-travel into this or that, for some particular reason? The
answer is an unequivocal YES, kind folks. Our truer or higher
self, is indeed some amount of pure energy, that goes onto become
that 'brain-activity', that your matter-mind permits a connection
into the physical material world, from. So absolutely, just as we
operate with conscious lower self mind in the world of awake-ness, we
likewise operate quite similarly when we travel the hyperspace in
spirit, or 'sleep and dream'. But as we
make our so-called 'free-will' decisions in waking world life, and
this same mind-brain system is doing likewise in our nocturnal
existence, just how truly free is FREE
WILL? You may think that YOU made the decision, you know,
to quote the old song perfectly here, should
I stay or should I go, or should I do this or that, or
not, or whatever; but what is finally actually MAKING
YOU or CAUSING YOU, to arrive at
a selection/decision? You may think that this is your free will, but
it is just like deciding what you are going TO DREAM ABOUT! How
many liars out here want to try and feed me the epitome of bullshit,
and tell me that they can dream anything that they want to, and
control it like it is some super great future VR-program? And
for that matter, what then is really happening in a so-called virtual
reality program, where you can enter a computer generated reality,
and control the entire thing? Carl Sagan said
it so perfectly to the great 99th
Congress, on a televised show that I happen to see one night, while
living at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments. We can now, “Up
it one dimension”. Whose VR-PROGRAM are we in while we
believe our self to be awake, and for that matter, when we believe
our self to be asleep? Anyone who believes literally, that someone
somewhere has a gigantic computer, and that we are all inside of its
program, is a true fruitcake. The truth is that even though this is
not the exact case and point right down to the nth degree, the effect
and the result is that it may as well be as if this was what is going
on. I know for a fact that there are Astral
Plane gods and goddesses,
that the AAT clubbers call the aliens, and that the religious people
call the angels, the demons, and Satan and God. I know for a fact
that the PLANK-TIME is reality, and all of this is a powerful dream
where we fall off of that reality when we get so low in energy that
we need to refuel or regain a new supply. There is just enough drag
in the Purgatory to cause this slow drain due to the slightest amount
of weight that this Astral or spiritual realm contains. It may be a
zillion-zillion-zillionths of a microsecond long and be a
zillion-zillion-zillionths of the size of a grain of sand, but as we
exist there, we too are this much tinier, and in fact, our comparison
is virtually limitless times this in ratio, as we are much smaller in
this ratio, and our entire universe appears to be the size of a pea
in comparison while we exist there. Also, no one is experimenting
with humanity, no one has plans for us, good or bad, and the entire
thing is a game. We love games because
we are in the image of these
energy-entities (GODS/GODDESSES), and
they love games, but they love
games because to them, it is the ultimate and extremely necessary
distraction. This distraction is to keep them from dwelling and
reflecting on the reality that dogs all of us existors/Purgatites,
and that is ABSOLUTE ENDLESSNESS!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
news last night had an item that I'll admit, is blowing my mother
fucking mind. Let me start with the story on my end of the stick, and
then, I'll tie in this news item. Practically every Blogaudian out
here will be amazed at this tale. I made a miscalculation regarding
my anti-poverty plan, and told how Starburn
Outreach Development Incorporated, or STARBURNODI
for short, is a plan to eventually eradicate poverty out of the
United States, and I misstated the financial objective and goal that
is necessary to begin putting this incredible business plan into
action, saying it would requite an amassing of ten trillion dollars,
(USD). In fact, the amount is closer to half of this, and I have made
an error on my paperwork. But I have the entire plan written down, so
that anyone who would ever view it, would see that I just screwed up
and thought I would need ten rather than about half of this amount.
When I went out to my nut-job clinic last week, I believe that
someone was in here, and saw these notes that I have written down in
scribble form. I absolutely feel that these notes were viewed. Last
night on the international and local news, a man was arrested in Palm
Beach for breaking into Trump's Mara-logo Estate. He was insisting on
talking to Trump about this exact same amount of money. I find this
astonishing and beyond even my typical outlandish twilight zonish
life's experience! WOW-JOANN-A!
Last
night on that great “L&O” show that is very hard to see on TV
any more, I saw that episode from early this century, called, “Whose
Monkey Is It anyway”? I am in the mood to add my little
bit of spin about several things, and one of them pertains 100
percent to this episode. I totally believe that extremely evil
criminals who are incarcerated for terrible crimes, SHOULD
BE IN LAB-RAT-PRISON. I feel that they should have to submit
to medical research. Forget death penalties, or torture or pain for
pain's sake; as that is unconstitutional. Still, to make up for the
horrible fucking shit that these beyond evil monsters do the
innocent, I believe that they should have to do this, and if they
croak, well, fuck you, then you croak. I don't disagree with many
many things that my distant-cuzz Donald believes. I am not a
Republican, nor am I a Democrat. I am split about down the damn
middle, agreeing and disagreeing with about half of the shit that
both of these parties are for. Here is a way to really get even with
those who hurt us and laugh at us, and not violate the constitution.
Many things need to be tested out, and no better people are there
than them, for just that purpose. WHAAAAA!
When
I went out to pay me rent earlier today, I had a very strange event
happen to me, AGAIN,
as my middle name as we all know is HUNTINGTON
TWILIGHT
ZONE!
I rode down the damn elevator with a lady and her little CHI-DOG, and
everything was fine. But after I paid the rent, this same lady was
again right there, and just as she was walking into the gate of this
building, I was driving into it. As I opened the door for her to the
lobby entrance, the dog suddenly tried to attack me, and nearly bit
my right leg. That would have been a lawsuit,
but the only problem is, what lawsuit? Nobody here has a penny, just
like me. The only mother fucking suit would be the one that IS NOT
hanging up in my whittle fwucking cwoset, Mister goddamn Elmer
Fwudd!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAA! Still, why was her dog so nice to me ten
minutes earlier, and then pow, out of
nowhere, the little fucking bastard wanted a chunk of my leg? Reminds
me of Jim Burr's
dog, and the Cifaloglio dog,
WHOOLIO-JULY. All
loyal fucking Blogaudians know these true tales from
Nightmare Grove!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION, and AHA-AHA-AHA!
I've
got fucking roaches all over the goddamn apartment no matter how much
I spray the RAID or how clean I
keep the place. I have the ILLEGAL GUESTS
around here slamming the goddamn fucking doors today, kind Sheriff,
sir. It's more fucking fun around here than Alice
Ciminelli, and her barrel of jail
bird American Honda guardhouse conversations, sent
to the U.S. Copyright Office, on 1988's Valentine's Day
monkeys!!!!!!!!!!!!! I believe that I
have been hit with another health assault on top of this, Sheriff.
Another horrible fucking year is beginning for me, oh wonderful kind
sir!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, my heavenly and marvelous life, measured by the
standards of anti-matter, is just making me so thankful and
appreciative of the blessings that flow from such a wonderful fucking
GODDESS, who sends songs in my sleep that altered my life, and so
many grand and glorious fucking things! So
thanks a lot, Almighty Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Karge Krassle, Sheriff
K.J.M., and “thanks
a lot, DAVE”!!!!!!!!!!!
YARRRRRR, Patty Hollister, maybe me buckin' hat's on crooked or
something. WOW-THAT!!!!
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Yes
folks, we can definitely call that my
Mountainpen's
Morianity
Quotation
or (MMQ) or anything else you may wish
to, as this won't alter the following truth: When the famous and
terrific agents, mentioned in that wild and cool report-documentary
on New York City's
WPIX-Channel-11-television show,
back in 1988
non-Spellchecker monkeys; Agents Condor
and Agent Falcon,
said that people who open up their mouth, and say things that are
not allowed to be said; those people will not be able to get a moment
of peace for the rest of their lives; how does this then fit into
those who were on the receiving end of all of this horrible monstrous
mother fucking turd swallowing junk, LONG
BEFORE they
ever uttered a single goddamn word?
THAT, oh great SIR ROCKDROID of the original STAR TREK SHOW, is the
real Shakespearean query of the ages, on kind peeps and loyal
Blogaudians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes THAT
is the question, Mister Bill
Shakespeare, YO!
How
I'll never ever fucking forget, ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, telling me how
all of my damn answers to all of this nasty-ass mess; lays in the
town of Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Right after he told me this
incredible fucking shit, kind Sheriff KJM sir, POW, “My
goddess non son of Sam girlfriend”, came over to my apartment and
raped me, and this led to the
miscarriage of my younger daut, PEE!
And then there was the wild dream a few years afterward, where
I was back at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments,
and Paula
came over to visit with me and tell me
how I was too immature and that she refused to marry me, and that she
had recently miscarried our child PEE. This
is how transdimensional hyperspace works.
We cannot go getting ourselves all fucking hung up on minor whittle
details such as an event happening in one universe and not happening
in another one that lies in localized hyperspace. No Spellchecker,
the hypERCHRIST
has absolutely nothing to do with any of this, OR
DOES IT, come to reflect on it
heredahelda and here, kind folks!!! I mean for crissake, it isn't
every day that I am stopped and searched like a criminal by the
authorities, for just sitting and telling a man about something from
my childhood. But it sure happened that particular day in Medford
Lakes, in the springtime of 1986. Maybe
this is why the satanic demons of hellfire itself, struck Dave Roth
and me so very hard, as after-all, it
was directly following all of this,
along with a tiny whittle detour through another Mister
Rod Serling's Twilight Zone; called
that special talk that took place in the
spring time in the following year of 1986, at the Medport
Diner, in Medford Lakes, New
Jersey; regarding the “Great Sarah
Krassle”.
Along with these whittle pirate facts and YARRRRRRR's, and buckin'
fuckin' pirate hats, I am wondering how Patty and her pal Santa are
doing these goddamn days, yo????????????? But then, like who gives a
fucking shit, to quote the kids who cuss?! Alligators or ALL I'M
SAYING is that long B4I ever had a blog, or even shot off my mouth on
RED-LINE-CROSSOVER
topics, or said boo about shit; I have been given a no-peace
persecution by these monstrous evil
mother fucking HALLS-FAWCES. So it is
not like anyone out here can go screaming into my ear, “Hey
Mountainpen, this is all your own fault”, as my kid did about
alligators, when I complained about all of these horrible things all
over this place, and she said that I had made my bed and must now lay
in it. Hey, she's totally right. Still,
was this all my fault for real? Was this all my fault for REALE, for
that matter? Was it me who teased you or
you who teased me, every mother fucking time that I came down in 1997
to try and relax on the beach, and you
tormented me with your sick demented evil WAYV
radio station, oh
mighty Patty-Paula?????????
WOW
THISssssssssssssssssssssssssssss, Mizz Susan Erica AMC Snakes from
1983. Yes, Patty-Paula may very well be Sarah Krassle, or
spelled with a fuller ASTRAL-PLANE name, SARAH-STACEY
JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE. Yes there is pure magic in this
incredible entity named Sarah Krassle
Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah
Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle Sarah Krassle!
Why
go to so much trouble doing al of these things, beginning with Misses
Cooley Hall High Hell Marola, on Memorial Day of 1969, May 30th,
and going all the way so far, up to the stunt pulled in waking life
while I was at my non-choker Darius Evans Cifaloglio security job in
2009, two years before the transdimensional-choking deal, and right
around the Lakehouse-choking deal, but yes, always (choking-1983
deals); with that WAYV magical stunt she pulled on me with the Regis
Threat and magically getting me to tune into it from my car while on
that job. Things like this JUST DON'T HAPPEN,
not in any real life or real world, and not with this sort of endless
fucking repetitiveness; and I know that you all know that, and
I'm not being WAYV-cute heredahelda and
HERE, yo! There was a night a few years earlier where I was at my
trailer, #10 at the great and illustrious Mullica Mobile Manor of
Mullica Township, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG; and watching one of those
two famous magicians on television. I forget whether it was Blaine or
Copperfield, but it was one of the David's. Tee-Hee-Hee. He told
everyone out in the TV audience to think of a card. We
all did, and HE GUESSED IT;
and that would be a one in fifty-two chance; and I don't buy into
chances, or long shots like that. Yes longer shots than this do
indeed happen, and with more frequency than we all might think would
be the case, BUTTTTTTTTT folks, I know that he did something, and I
know that night at Cifaloglio with Patty-Paula, that she did that
very same 'something'; and then things happened. Just because
I am unable to properly explain it, I STILL AM
ABLE TO FULLY REPORT IT to the goddamn mother fucking world, yo,
and you can bet I do, and will go right on screaming out my pain.
This monster and all of her FAWCES are behind it.
END
TRANSMISSION
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