Wednesday, July 31, 2019

ETERNAL JOURNAL OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD, D3






ETERNAL JOURNAL OF SONGWRITER

MARK MUD, SECTION D3









2:06 P.M., Wednesday, July 31, 2019











Lightning came over to visit with me around four this morning. She is beyond beautiful with brilliant colors and lovely fractal patterns all over the night skies. I cannot thank my baby blond enough for visiting with me today. Yesterday, my next door illegals were annoying all morning with loud doors and cluttering up the hallway with junk as they do so often. Today it is my other TRIAD dirt balls, above me, banging and making horrendous sounds. I cannot win around this hellhole public housing nightmare place, and I guess I never could and never can, so to quote Sir Chester-Frank from the bar that night when Paul Pedersen and myself, and he were all having a non-alligator blast with the team from Microsoft and their wonderful Spellchecker system, “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”!!!!!!!!!!!!!









I attended the community town watch meeting yesterday after returning from my local errands at the bank and the local shopping plaza where I go to the Publix Grocery Store. Another Sir Chester-Frank “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” if I may be so Heinz Gottwald Babylon non baby-blond “permitted”, yo. TANKS, and a great big BERNIE HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE BOOM!!!!











I will now discuss a few things, and I'll need to lay a foundation first, and to do this, we must copy in or CAP as Morianity puts it, a little squib from an earlier blog taken earlier in the year. Gloss over it and then proceed down to where I write in the words, “GEE-WHIZ and GOLLLLLLLEEEEY MISTER PYLE”, in bright red ink. Then we are going to take things a little bit further, 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! “GEE-WHIZ and GOLLLLLLLEEEEY MISTER PYLE”, let us move this further on now, shall we peeps? We needed to go back into middle January and refresh ourselves just a wee whittle bit, and now, without any help from the great illustrious Jane bitCHWEEDS Microsoft, let's continue onward, yo!







































































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HAS NOT yet given up trying to tell the powerhouse story of MORIANITY. IPYT (I PROMISE YOU THAT)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
















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AND PAULA DOESN'T LIKE IT AT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!

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being one of perhaps ten humans since time began who have memory going back far beyond current physical birth, I am doing my best to deal with an extremely unpleasant situation.
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When you open your eyes underwater, do you ever worry that you'll drown?
Well, I did drown in 1995, in South Atlantic City. Remember, I am the one in 1984 from Highland Avenue.









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I had left the 1802 Robin Hill Apartments on the last day of January, moving into the Atco rental home on 1 February of 1983. Yes this has indeed all been told over and over before kind folks, BUTTTTTTTT, BIG ASS 2006-2007 BUTTTTTTTT; never put into true perspective with all of the damn numerous connecting items and situations, and for that matter, I seriously doubt that time will ever permit all of that to be fully done in proper elaboration, yet containing easy English words that all of us use and hear every day, so as to avoid lots of potential confusion and ambiguity, yo. So let me lay down a few foundations here, peeps. First, you all know fully well about how I was sitting in my apartment bedroom while still residing at 1802 Robin Hill in Voorhees Township, NJUSAESMWG, and it was some time in early or middle October in 1982. Suddenly, and for absolutely no rational or logical reason, I heard words inside of my head without any audible voice whatsoever, telling me, “Mark, you just wait until the 4th of next June rolls around, ha ha ha”. Religious peeps like Jim Burr would insist that this was “demonic activity” and who's to ever say who is right or who is wrong, since not one mother fucking person on this goddamn Earth-Planet can get up and prove a damn thing scientifically about anything. We are literally all a bunch of fucking five year olds playing a game in a large closet after our parents have gone outside in the back yard to rake leaves. When I had left Robin Hill for this rental home in Atco, New Jersey, I had just purchased a very strange machine called the PRIVECODE, invented by the International Mobile Machines Corporation, later becoming the InterDigital Corporation of today. This machine was only used by a handful of peeps, and I was one of those peeps. Also, it never caught on back in 1983. The makers of this machine are part of the Exploratronic Supermind Society, which is a group of totally bizarre stealthy spirit-travelers, with objectives and goals that are all merely part of a gargantuan sized cosmic game. Also, a part of this entire mess is the BFA and or the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE. All of these things happened to me at exactly the same period and circa of my life, between the age of 28 and the age of 29. These are also two extremely powerful numbers for both myself as well as humanity in general, that time simply won't permit me to even begin to address right now on this goddamn fucking blog work. Inside of my throat and my body is a connection-system. I call it this because I have no better name for it. Sheriff, I am going to call 911 and sign a complaint against these enemies, BUTTERCHEESE and BIG ASS BUTT, for right now; let me move into my continuation dissertation on this particular blog, or to keep Erica AMC Spellchecker and the gang all happy and wet here, thisSSSSSSSSSSSSS particular blog, yo yo yo, and yes, this definitely pertains to my wonderful awesome Blogaudians, whomever they truly might be, oh wonderful SHERIFF MASCARA, kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



















We can always get back to Mister Jim Rockford, and his troubles, and beat ups; as well as my own hell and nightmares, along with MY GLANDULAR CHOKE STORY OF 1983, AND HOW IT FITS SO WELL INTO ALL OF THE UFOLOGY AND ALL OF THE HUNTINGTON FAMILY, and now, we will do just that!!!!!!!!!













So am I saying that the chocking mystery is all connected up perfectly and completely, into Robin Hill Apartments, the RPL Sound Recording Studio, the strange music curse of all of the strange events claimed and told on nearly fourteen years of blogged Morianity, and all the shit regarding Atlantic City, the peeps there who I have interacted with, in and out of the casino world, are all intertwined and commingled with the 1983 chocking condition, that was given to me mysteriously, on the night of June the fourth in 1983, at half past ten at night, while I was watching some dorky ass movie about kids making a recording, while I was sipping on a soda, and eating some M&M candies? Well, the answer to this would have to be a 100% unequivocal and resounding 'YES', me' folks! To quote my extremely talented daughter and her friends from that oh-nine movie DVD here, “Let's explore thisSSSSSSSSS”, Mizz Erica Cane AMC, without any breath echos or 1988 murders, oh great and fucking cunt illustrious COPYRIGHT OFFICE!!!!!!!!










We can begin by discussing how my blogs, a decade before the almighty, marvelous, and beyond great, HA-HA-HA, Sir Mister Prez D.J. Trump, ever threw his hat into the ring, for the job, in the year 2015. We all know I said all the things that have mother fucking come to pass. Deny it all you want, and merely prove to history and the world and humanity itself, that you're a quintessential asshole, if that's what you like. Sawn you, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!! We all know that I told about all of this shit long before it went down. We need to begin here, before we even try opening up the major fucking cans of worms and hornets nests, that will be soon to follow, without question or hesitation, folks!!!!!!!! So I now will CAP IN this little item, and then we will move onward once more. So here goes: Well, since these mother fucking diseased Atlantic City nightmare jerk off scum bag sub-people and witches, are determined to ruin, wreck, and utterly wipe out and fucking destroy me, and think they're all so cunt lapping above the law; here will come a little bit of revenge. First with my MAGNESONIC, and then with some more powerful revenge-tattle-tailing from my absolute best 'RATS-TATS-REAL FOOTBALL' DAYS OF NON LOVELY JESSICA SIMPSON, from my days of Jenny's, you know, Trailer Park Jenny, and don't bother flying around here as it won't prove a thing Jenny! Let's get on with it, yo.





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SO WHY AM I POPULAR IN THESE GREAT COUNTRIES. I THINK WE ALL KNOW THAT MY WORDS ARE TRUE. PEOPLE ARE JUST A BUNCH OF GUTTLESS RAT BASTARDS WHO ARE TOO SCARED TO TAKE ON POWER STRUCTURES, TO EVER HELP POOR PITIFUL NON-RONSTADT ME, HUH LOVELY LINDA???

THE BIGGEST POWER OF ALL IS PAULA KING THE QUEEN OF BLUE, AND EVERY SINGLE 1985 COPYRIGHT EXAMINER KNOWS THAT I AM SPEAKING WORDS OF MARCUCCI TRUTH AND WISDOM HERE, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!

''AND THAT'S JUST REALITY SON”.

''AND THAT'S JUST REALITY SON”.

''AND THAT'S JUST REALITY SON”.

''AND THAT'S JUST REALITY SON”.

''AND THAT'S JUST REALITY SON”.

''AND THAT'S JUST REALITY SON”.

''AND THAT'S JUST REALITY SON”.

''AND THAT'S JUST REALITY SON”.

''AND THAT'S JUST REALITY SON”.



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MARK WAYNE MOHR, (MOUNTAINPEN)

theansweristheqyuestion
Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness.






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Let's discuss the subject of cowards: First, allow me to reboot, as the black hat fucking jerkl off dirtbag computer hackers AGAIN have knocked off my MICROSOFT SPELLCHECKER PROGRAM. I'll be right back, Governor of California Terminator, not roller derby boyfried Jerry, the 'other guv'!!!!!! The great TERMINATOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











Now the system is operational again. We are discussing the topic of peeps like President Trump, “COWARDS”. They are real tough when others are there to fight for and with them. Real mother fucking tough guys when the odds are absolutely stacked in their favor and they simply cannot win. The second they are all alone, if a nine year old angry kid comes at them, they'll scream and cry and whimper like a fucking helpless goddamn baby, yelling for their goddamn fucking whittle mommies, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!! We all know the story of cowards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As soon as I disappeared just a couple of years earlier, from the blog world, these fucking diseased pussy ass cowards came out of nowhere and had numerous blogs on the internet that I have done, removed, complaining about various things that they never had the mother fucking balls to do if they thought that I was active. This is the totally expected and fully anticipated behavior of a COWARD. They also found a way to take link connections and remove them from my blogs so they no longer were able to display nice local pictures any longer, such as the Jupiter Beach Lighthouse, and the Avalon Beach club of Fort Pierce, and I could go on and on. These fucking diseased putrid cowards wouldn't act against me while I was actively blogging, oh no, they had to wait and be totally absolutely sure and positive that I was off the grid, before they took that action against my blogs and MORIANITY; oh wonderful sir, SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AGAIN, these are the way COWARDS act and operate, and it is always fully expected and anticipated cowardly behavior, and it has a zero shock factor to it. The only shock value would be if a COWARD were to ever grow half a fucking pair of fun rock kahoney's, and actually come out from behind the goddamn shadows, and behave like a brave person, instead of some whimpering little fucking cry baby who can only strike when a brave man turns his mother fucking back on him. We all know I speak total truths here, and yes, WE HAVE THE BIGGEST MOTHER FUCKING COWARD OF ALL, FOR OUR STINKING ROTTEN PRESIDENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!













BUTTERCHEESE and big ass BUTT, moving this still onward me peeps, the KING FAMILY is a HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE 2nd place ribbon winning COWARD GROUP, hiding in the shadows AFTER WHAT THESE TOTAL TURDS DID TO ME, ON ORDERS OF WITHER PATTY OR OUR MISERABLE ROTTEN DAUGHTER, oh kind Sheriff KJM sir, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Their distant cousin SIR NON-KNIGHTED ROBERT MCGUIRE OF ATLANTIC CITY, BRUISED TURDSEY, is another total COWARD. He acts all tough. Sure he fucking does. But he damages my vehicle AFTER Ed Himacane Lynch and I walk up to the boardwalk that day, and NAUT MIZZ AT&T 1983 BLAKE, while we are actually sitting in it. He can clinch a great fist, but I dare that mick fucking bastard to come down here to my town and pick a fight with me, kind Sheriff. I know that you will very 'un-cowardly' lock that bitch up in prison, JUST AS HE MOTHER FUCKING CUNT EATING DESERVES TO BE IN PRISON for what he did, and not once, or twice, but on several occasions, damaging my property and my vehicles while I was in Atlantic City, huh Sir Brian Ross Nugget, speaking of Mizz Naut-times, and Blake's!!!!! SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!







You know how peeps say, “You do the math”

????????????????????????? Well, so do it!!!!







WEEK 0---THIS IS WHEN PEEKAY RAPED ME UNDER A.C.'s CENTRAL PIER.



JULY 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5-----WEEK 0

6 7 8 9 10 11 12----WEEK 1

13 14 15 16 17 18 19----WEEK 2

20 21 22 23 24 25 26----WEEK 3

27 28 29 30 31



AUGUST 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2----WEEK 4

3 4 5 6 7 8 9----WEEK 5

10 11 12 13 14 15 16---WEEK 6

17 18 19 20 21 22 23---WEEK 7

24 25 26 27 28 29 30---WEEK 8

31


SEPTEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6-----WEEK 9

7 8 9 10 11 12 13----WEEK 10

14 15 16 17 18 19 20----WEEK 11

21 22 23 24 25 26 27----WEEK 12

28 29 30



OCTOBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4--------WEEK 13

5 6 7 8 9 10 11-------WEEK 14

12 13 14 15 16 17 18-------WEEK 15

19 20 21 22 23 24 25-------WEEK 16

26 27 28 29 30 31



NOVEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1--------WEEK 17

2 3 4 5 6 7 8--------WEEK 18

9 10 11 12 13 14 15-------WEEK 19

16 17 18 19 20 21 22-------WEEK 20

23 24 25 26 27 28 29-------WEEK 21

30



DECEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6----------WEEK 22

7 8 9 10 11 12 13---------WEEK 23

14 15 16 17 18 19 20---------WEEK 24

21 22 23 24 25 26 27---------WEEK 25

28 29 30 31



JANUARY 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3-----------WEEK 26

4 5 6 7 8 9 10----------WEEK 27

11 12 13 14 15 16 17----------WEEK 28

18 19 20 21 22 23 24----------WEEK 29

25 26 27 28 29 30 31----------WEEK 30







FEBRUARY 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7------------WEEK 31

8 9 10 11 12 13 14-----------WEEK 32

15 16 17 18 19 20 21-----------WEEK 33

22 23 24 25 26 27 28-----------WEEK 34



MARCH 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7-------------WEEK 35

8 9 10 11 12 13 14------------WEEK 36

15 16 17 18 19 20 21------------WEEK 37

22 23 24 25 26 27 28------------WEEK 38

29 30 31















I never went to Atlantic City in 1969 on weekdays, as I never wanted to miss seeing my very absolute fave television soap-show that was on in the mid-afternoons on weekdays, called, “DARK SHADOWS”, aired on the American Broadcast Networking system, or ABC. In my near-Philly area up in southwest Jersey, that was on Philadelphia's TV-Channel number-6. BUTTERCHEESE and yes, BIG ASS BUTT and but, I always went to Atlantic City every Saturday and every Sunday by bus from my Pyle Avenue Apartment, in Westmont, or Haddon Township, in New Jersey. It6 amazes me how I managed to block out two incidents, or really three if we include PeeKay's Highview rape that day when 'maintenance man SAM' asked me about my “Goddess Girlfriend” that day. I managed to block out the road trip that my Aunt Ruth Huntington Gottwald took me on just shy of Christmas time in the year of 1972, the bump on the head, under the pier, on the fifth of July, that occurred three and a half years earlier, and even PK's latest feat when I was in my early forties and living at the great illustrious Highview Apartments, of where else now mind you, but WILL-I-AM-ST-OWN, New Jersey??????????????? Hey, I watch fucking television, and don't let my kid tell you how ignorant I am. That title still goes to number 45 PREZ, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'll say something else while we're still on the subject of fucking ass ignorance. Take it not from me but the mighty and super great “L&O” TV-SHOW. Really goddamn innocent peeps would want to clear themselves. The guilty's however, that's another story entirely. They only wish to remain endlessly hidden in the non-monster SHADOWS. Tell that to the two great astronauts who first touched the surface of lovely LUNA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











Yes, we are about to mother fucking embark on what the great almighty dirtbag super king of the endless subskummite club MOST DEFINITELY DOES NOT WISH ME TO MAKE REFERENCE TO OR DISCUSS AT ALL, EVER. This is how the entire ugly rotten mess of all of this dogshit, ALL TOTALLY FITS TOGETHER IN A PERFECT5 AND NON ARGUABLE WAY, YO YO YO YO YO YO, OH GREAT SAINT LUCIE COUNTY, FLORIDA, DPA, SHERIFF KJM, SIR! I needed to lay down the foundation on this blog, and now as the next blogs come out, holy fucking Annabelle On Steroids or AOS for short; like beyond super hyper ultra WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW, lovely great BIG-O. Yessss-mmmahm girl; this will get beyond great as these blogs proceed onwards and upwards, and yes wonderful Oprah, and all others out here, IPYT times ten quadrillion fucking percent!!!!




























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REPORT FOR FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, DPA, FKA (FORMERLY KNOWN AS), THE USA!

WEATHER REPORT AT *********









Temperature: -----------** D.F.

Heat Index: --------------** D.F.

Humidity: --------------**%

Sky Condition :-----**********

Winds: ---- WITH GUSTS.

Predictions: ****************.

Moon Phase: WANING CRESCENT, 7:7



































ENDocrinologists AND END TRANSMISSION.



The absolute proof of my family is in that word in red that is fucking underlined, and we all know it too, and that's the rub.













LIGHTNING IS BEYOND BEAUTIFUL OUTSIDE OF MY WINDOW.

THANK YOU LOVELY GIRL!!!!!





Yeah peeps, as lovely Wendy from the great illustrious Cooley Fooley non Cooley JJ Evans High might say it, “I WISH, and yes, I am kid DIE-NO-MIGHT”!!!!!!!!!! AHA THAT MMCNY!!!! Yessir, I wish Lightning was around all the mother fucking time protecting HER WHITTLE BOY from this endless death harassment and death siege. Like WEEEEEE!
































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ETERNAL JOURNAL OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD,

SECTION-C3

1:46 ANTE' MERIDIAN

EARLY TUESDAY MORNING

30 JULY, 2019

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, DPA, ESMWG





Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

© 2006-2019, 'BOM' (Blogs Of Mountainpen)








THE GLOBAL ENLIGHTENMENT OF MORIANITY.







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FROM THE WEATHER CHANNEL (TWC)

REPORT FOR FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, DPA, FKA (FORMERLY KNOWN AS), THE USA!

WEATHER REPORT AT *********



Temperature: -----------** D.F.

Heat Index: --------------** D.F.

Humidity: --------------**%

Sky Condition :-----**********

Winds: ---- WITH GUSTS.

Predictions: ****************.

Moon Phase: WANING CRESCENT, 5:7



















Well to quote many people all over the world, from new kids to discovered kids, in or out of town, WHAAAA, “HERE WE GO AGAIN, JOHNNY COME FREAKING ASS LATELY, YO YO YO YO YO”











I just crashed for absolutely no good logical reason, and SHERIFF MASCARA, starting at 1:17 this cunt chewing fucking ass morning, kind sir, this death siege is starting up HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE, to quote wonderful sir Senator Bernie Sanders!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is a







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RED ALERT---RED ALERT---RED ALERT

RED ALERT---RED ALERT---RED ALERT

RED ALERT---RED ALERT---RED ALERT











The freeze and crash on this computer was approximately 51 minutes past one, but at 1:17, my COMCAST FUCKING CABLE MODEM TOTALLY CRASHED OFF, AND OUT OF SERVICE; NO TV, NO INTERNET, NO PHONE. THANK YOU FOR HAVING ANOTHER GREAT NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH MEETING AT 3 PM LATER ON THIS AFTERNOON, AND YOU CAN BET A TRILLION FUCKING BUCKS SIR THAT I WILL BE THERE; AND I AM GOING TO SPEAK OUT ABOUT ALL OF THIS CRIMINALITY AND MAJOR UNSPEAKABLE ELDER ABUSE BEING DONE TO POOR FUCKING LITTLE ME, YO!!!!!!!









Jul 15, 2019 11:00 AM – Jul 22, 2019 10:00 AM



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Microsucks made mother fucking sure to screw me with the mother fucking side screen prompt, that reads document eleven of eleven, and done numerically, to remind me of monster slut, Mizz Stinkbreath Fonda Dogshit. Here is my cunt phlegm rape shun or my (compensation), to say it a bit more
Tommy Roe Jam and Jelly Politely, yo!!!!!!!!!!



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WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE AND WOW, IS THIS DAY GOING SUPER FUCKING CUNT HUFFING BOTBAR; SHERIFF K. J. MASCARA, ME' KIND WONDERFUL AWESOME SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tell the boys I'll see them in thirteen hours, at three PEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So WEEEEEE!





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About me


Gender
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Location
Introduction
being one of perhaps ten humans since time began who have memory going back far beyond current physical birth, I am doing my best to deal with an extremely unpleasant situation.
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Favorite Books

When you open your eyes underwater, do you ever worry that you'll drown?

Well, I did drown in 1995, in South Atlantic City. Remember, I am the one in 1984 from Highland Avenue.


















Copyright © 1999 – 2019 Google
































Just when things are about as intense as they can get, the Milituforce is magically making the Blogs Of Mountainpen, die off into that good night, Mizz Nursing Irene!

NOBODY BELIEVES IN INVISIBLE POWERS. Well, then go touch a 440 volt power line or enjoy sitting at an X-RAY machine for a few hours. Yeah, you're all total idiots and assholes, but I sure hope you are rooting for me a little bit, kind Sheriff KJM, otherwise, maybe I'll just cut my wrist and croak in here tonight, old pal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Lightning has told me that they're not worth me mother fucking offing myself. These dirt-hole subskummite mother fucking toilet sewage slurpers can all GO TO DOGTOWN, along with their ugly slob fat old worthless mothers, yo!















JULY 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5-----WEEK 0---WHEN PEEKAY RAPED ME UNDER AC CENTRAL PIER.

6 7 8 9 10 11 12----WEEK 1

13 14 15 16 17 18 19----WEEK 2

20 21 22 23 24 25 26----WEEK 3

27 28 29 30 31



AUGUST 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2----WEEK 4

3 4 5 6 7 8 9----WEEK 5

10 11 12 13 14 15 16---WEEK 6

17 18 19 20 21 22 23---WEEK 7

24 25 26 27 28 29 30---WEEK 8

31


SEPTEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6-----WEEK 9

7 8 9 10 11 12 13----WEEK 10

14 15 16 17 18 19 20----WEEK 11

21 22 23 24 25 26 27----WEEK 12

28 29 30



OCTOBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4--------WEEK 13

5 6 7 8 9 10 11-------WEEK 14

12 13 14 15 16 17 18-------WEEK 15

19 20 21 22 23 24 25-------WEEK 16

26 27 28 29 30 31



NOVEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1--------WEEK 17

2 3 4 5 6 7 8--------WEEK 18

9 10 11 12 13 14 15-------WEEK 19

16 17 18 19 20 21 22-------WEEK 20

23 24 25 26 27 28 29-------WEEK 21

30



DECEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6----------WEEK 22

7 8 9 10 11 12 13---------WEEK 23

14 15 16 17 18 19 20---------WEEK 24

21 22 23 24 25 26 27---------WEEK 25

28 29 30 31



JANUARY 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3-----------WEEK 26

4 5 6 7 8 9 10----------WEEK 27

11 12 13 14 15 16 17----------WEEK 28

18 19 20 21 22 23 24----------WEEK 29

25 26 27 28 29 30 31----------WEEK 30







FEBRUARY 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7------------WEEK 31

8 9 10 11 12 13 14-----------WEEK 32

15 16 17 18 19 20 21-----------WEEK 33

22 23 24 25 26 27 28-----------WEEK 34



MARCH 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7-------------WEEK 35

8 9 10 11 12 13 14------------WEEK 36

15 16 17 18 19 20 21------------WEEK 37

22 23 24 25 26 27 28------------WEEK 38

29 30 31















Lightning has come over to visit with me at nineteen minutes past two on this horrible fucking day. Thank you lovely PINK GODDESS JEHOVAH SSK for sending me my wonderful and awesome teen-queen. I really need heredahelda and HER, Mister Mike Soft.









END TRANSMISSION, YO YO YO YO!!!!













MMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONIC:





Computer, hear my MVP (Mind-Voice-Print). You will be totally absolutely crushing, obliterating, annihilating, and devastating, wrecking, ruining, and utterly wiping out whoever IS MAKING MY LIFE A LIVING HELL SINCE 1986, especially concentrating on people and forces behind my misery this 2019 year. You will be using your MAXIMUM POWER on a crush-destruct order, under GENERAL-ORDER-189. Open-Command, General Order #7. Use G-901, G-1133, G-14, G-719, G-13, CG5555-QP4 sub-code, under G-917, CG-2, under CG-18, and HOLD!!!!!!!!









Your old AT&T landline telephone old style 1983 built tone-commands have been data-transferred into the two highlighted long-EEEEE vowel sounds. The high-tone is colored RED. The low-tone is colored BLUE.















Computer (Magnesonic) under my command and precisely matching voice print, I have an image-object (I-O) now placed on your transpower-block (T-B) after I have crush-destructed this. Once empowered, all actual beings matching this I-O on your T-B will be exactly crushed and singed and destroyed as the original I-O. To accomplish the scan, use your ZD technology built into your system. To accomplish this sympathetic reality duplication, use your AD technology, (ZD-Zero-Dimensional), (AD-Atomic Duplicational).







Computer, 'MAGNESONIC', on an 'I' to 'D', A/B—TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM; you will now be transmitted the two empowerization-transmit tones, or ETT'S.






























EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE





EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE





GO TO G-189, under G-1133, CG-18, AND S---T---O---P



































Another morning of super loud hallway and door activity. WEIN-SOSO-SSDD? Oh boy!!!!! And yet another one on Saturday, BUTTTTT, folks, I knew if I said that I stopped playing hypothetical roulette, that I might just be able to cross over the four digit total profit barrier, and yesterday, I managed indeed to do so with a ninety dollar win on the $10 BBL. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. “This is ridiculous”!!!! “WOW and how”, lovely 1979 Joanna. So sue me, Pee and Merry, as I may not eat Mac and Cheese, but we sure sold it up at the old Harvest Store, now turned into the UP Store, or the (United Against Poverty) charity, we all know and love, WEEEEEEEEE!!!! Yes I fucked up in my addition, and meant to type in $1080, and NAUT $1,090. So sahwee Mister Japanese World War ll Ambassador. Just another one of Mister Mountainpen's famous numerous typo glitches, yo. WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW, BIG LOVELY-O. I promise not to drown you in the sea, or burn the water tops with glee. That was only meant for the mighty and endlessly scary dual-witches from the illustrious and world famous ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY, DPA-ESMWG, FKA THE USA!!!!!! It amazes me how predictable SATAN is. Sunday, when the loud door assault backed off of me, after a week or two of the ILLEGAL GUEST DOOR SLAMMERS really pouring it mother fucking on me again; a different attack was sent to me to make up for the stopped door slams all goddessdamn morning. First, Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara, kind sir, there was a utility attack, with a loud illegal squealing sound blaring out over my landline Comcast Cable telephone, around a quarter past eight on Sunday morning, and then tonight around nine or so, another mother fucking KITCHEN SINK ATTACK STRUCK ME, where SATAN somehow backed up the sink, and caused nasty water to come up through a water tight sealed drain, that I purchased over at my local Publix Store about seven years or so ago. When I was in my kitchen around seven or so, the sink was fine, so it struck me between about seven and nine of the cunt lapping clock, Sir Sheriff, for about the seventh or eighth time now in the past two years when it all began, Mizz S. Collins!!!!!!!!!











Yes I fucked up in my addition, and meant to type in $1080, and NAUT $1,090.



#29----6-4-5-5----+050----0940----$32.41

#30----5-6-3-5----+050----0990----$33.00

#31----3-7-6-4----+090----1080----$34.84









I managed to finally legitimately cross beyond the three digit profit barrier. I fully believe that this obstacle due to major MILITUFORCE NEGAMAGGING, would NAUT have been crossed if I had NAUT totally LIED AND DECIDED TO SHUT UP. I always come back eventually, to amend my temporary false claims, as this is sometimes the only fucking way to obfuscate these horrendous monstrous HALLS-FAWCES, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT,

keeping my credibility or what little I seem to posses, is of the absolute utmost fucking importance to me, or else this blogging project is a total waste of time and sick joke on fucking Mister endlessness Mountainpen, yo!!!!!!!!! Hey, all I want is peace, and to be left alone by these monsters and witches up there in goddessdamn Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA. The hell with Santa Claus, my two front teeth, or the great know-it-all, Mizz Halloween-H.H.-Hollister!!!!!!!! Let's both be real bad people, huh Merr????? All I want is peace, and to be left alone by these monsters and witches up there in goddessdamn Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA. The hell with Santa Claus, my two front teeth, or the great know-it-all, Mizz Halloween-H.H.-Hollister!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

























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SUP THESE DAYS; HOWARD SOLOMON?




Would you still call me a schmuck if you were here?























































So why is SATAN doing all of these horrible mother fucking monstrous things to poor old little me, after-all that has to be the sixty-four trillion dollar question for all of humanity by now, or else by some future date? Well peeps, before we can answer this or even hope to answer thisssssssssss, Mizz gorgeous Susan Lucci Erica Kane Snakes from 1983 and the great AMC-TV-SOAP; we need first to qualify what SATAN or who SATAN actually is in REALITY!!!!!!!!! Many will scoff at me for even making this incredible attempt, but I feel that I am both able and qualified to do this, so bare with me if you will, kind and unkind folks, and all BLOGAUDIANS in general, as here we go!!!!!!













Lots of death angels are around me again. Not as bad as when the death siege is cooking on WHITE-HOT-SQUARED, but it is bad again, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Weldon Saunders was another magical type of person, like the great Atlantic City beach alchemist, and the lovely and super cool Patricia H.H. Hollister. This dude worked with me in 1987 before I worked at American Honda in Mount Laurel, NJDPAESMWG, on Gaither Drive in the Mount Laurel Industrial Park. This place was only a mile from the great house that my mom and I rented from the real estate investor Mister Jerry Pliner, in 1983, after leaving the illustrious 1802 non-Beekman ROBIN HILL APARTMENTS. Fourteen years had whizzed by, and “lost and alone here I cried”, but not for the reasons listed on my copyrighted 1997 song called, “THANX TO THE SHADOWS, written a solid decade later on. Mister Saunders could hear the death angel too and he buzzed all around him quite constantly just as he does with me. WOE WIZ ME, Mister Crichton of the mighty and vely vely vely illustrious WALT DISNEY CORPORATION, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!


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Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
PAu002153196
1996
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SRu000332786
1996
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SRu000362114
1997




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1997


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Every night just about, I have nightmares where I'm either in Atlantic City New Jersey, or else I am in Philadelphia near the subway station at 16th Street, right outside Steve's stoop and apartment, that I visited in 1974; the dude who was so infatuated with lovely Patty Hollister H.H. But several nights back while standing right there on Steve's stoop, alone but not lost; Sarah Callio Skunkbreath, and Paula King Slimelips; suddenly a man walked up to me and asked me if I had some change to spare. That is a typical occurrence in any parallel world in any large city such as Philadelphia. I thought Steve was around but he had disappeared back inside of his apartment building. I went to dig into my pocket to give the beggar a few quarters, and I pulled out a piece of paper that said and I quote, “Your friendly prophet who comes to your building will be punished for telling you too many things”. The flip side of this small notebook pad sized white piece of paper, said, “Gawky Gaukauk and another professor friend of his, know many things, and you are not to tell Earthers about what they've told you”. This was about three nights ago. When I went to get up just yesterday afternoon at about a quarter past noon, I fell back to sleep for five minutes or less, and suddenly I saw these two professor entities from the Teck Bay Mystery School of Province, Olympia, in the Purgatory (Astral-Plane). The one who was not Gawki the panther cat, handed me another note on the very same sized paper that also was white, and it said that, “Folks just north by woust of Halloweentown, in a place called Embagalakatauke City, will be very angry if I tell anything more”. I do not know yet what they are referring to. I also remember the very top of the paper page that was handed to me, and it had a name heading. It read TECK BAY, Professor Luquilla Yazzatan. As I typed this out, and I don't give a mother fucking rats ass who calls me a liar and refuses to ever believe any of my wild tales; because Almighty Jehovah Pink Goddess knows it is all true, but someone just struck my computer with a really strange and wild hack. Suddenly the print was all weird and arranged all fucked up. I had to reboot and repair a lot of the shit that was effected, all the shit that was after the cut and pasted or (CAPPED) Copyrighted junk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
















Oh yes Mister commenter, tell all of your great wonderful 'Cali' pals all about me and make a lot of money, BUTTERCHEESE and BIG-ASS-BUTT YO, you'll never get to the bottom of the powerful Tellosian EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY or its fantastic EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT, let alone any mother fucking PERMISSION-BARRIERS from 1994, time trips from 1996 only lied about and said from 1997, wide angle school bus turns, hypnotizing mighty Viqueen Julie White's, car hubcap smashing Nickelodeons with or without additional nickels being placed into them, or additional weirdo 'O''s from mighty symbolic 'DARK SHADOWS' and great awesome train-dreams from the inconceivable fifth dimensional hyperspace, YO YO YO YO YO YO. And we all know that I could have typed out a ton of additional other shitUATION shit, huh folks? Oh yes, lovely sir Microsoft Spellchecker, maybe you're even smarter than Patty HH and her tennis lover, oh well, at least he doesn't fucking play volleyball, huh Sheriff. See you at the ballpark, in this, or in some parallel world, oh great sir KJM!!!!! WOW. I am not sure about all of this punishment revelation, but I do watch the news, and boy oh boy do I get fucking paranoid as shit when wild bullshit starts happening around me, big lovely 'O' WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW!!!











WEEEEEEEEEEE, and Wonderful Oprah Winfrey (WOW)!!!!!!!!!! My mom works too late, but thanks for the offer to watch your great television show. I am quite sure my mom would thank you too from her split jobs that I think you know about, Ricktown Manor Restaurant and the shallow borderline area to the property over at the Humelon Forest! This keeps her even busier than her Earthly life did over at that Philadelphia shipping company. AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!













From Cooley HHH to Patty HHH, mommy dearest, you and your wonderful office fiends (friends), from the world of all great candy crushes, or just plain old ordinary teenaged crushes. SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT! Tell me this entire thing can be rationally explained WITHOUT USING THE PERMISSION BARRIER; OH GREAT AND MIGHTY CAMDEN COUNTY PROSECUTOR ADA MISTER RON WIRTZ SENIOR, YO!!!!!! Ga'hed and tell me that one, YO YO YO YO YO YO! Only the fact that colonies will someday be blasted out into deep space using field travel construction and transport, and then a powerful Galanet, along with powerful scanner/projection AVM recording systems to bring reality all around from anywhere in the photon-time truth of shit, CAN HOPE TO EXPLAIN WHAT HAS BEEN DONE TO ME IN MY NEARLY 65 YEARS OF LIFE AS MARK WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN HUNTINGTON MOHR! Remember Sheriff sir, and other great blogAUDIANS out here, I wrote that powerhouse fucking book in the year 1994, an entire mother fucking quarter century ago, yo yo yo yo yo yo, so don't be so quick to dismiss any of my claims, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



























I DEMAND A 'GAME OVER', YOU GODDAMN PLAYFIELD SHAKESPEARIAN GODS!!!!!!!
































CHRIS, ED, AND THE MILITUFORCE BLOGAUD



CHAPTER 5









My nabes are very fucking cunt annoying again, and bringing me lots of their dirt bag fucking roaches also. I hear bangs all over the place. They slam their fucking bathroom doors closed, and it makes a similar loud fucking sound, as slamming entrance doors do. I think I have a lot of new jerk offs around me, and they are dirty pigs, like those Dellway Arms fuckiGN dirtbag nabes, the PIGGER-BACKERS, back in 1972-1975, after that nice lady who originally lived above me moved out, Mizz Joan Larosa, in Oaklyn, No Joysey, USA! Oh the dam ass gods; does some cosmic fuckiGN force hate my cunt chewing bastard pathetic little screwed up dam ass guts, YO PEEPS!!!!















It rained all day, and it was raining hard a couple hours ago. I am about to retire for the night, and it is 11:40 in the Post Meridian. The computer hackers won't ever fucking let up or relent a little bit. Their fave-hack is the space bar bullshit fucking hat, and it is always active, even if I do not mention it on blogs, YO!!!! Theses diseased mother fucking toilet water guzzlers got to Eddie Himacane's laptop computer too, even though the dumb ass insisted it was my imagination or me being ignorant. He was fuckign ignorant, not me, as I know what I know, and I won't let anyone tell me that I don't, not the President, not the Pope, not my mighty transdimensional PHASE-4-CUZZ Shorty MacInvondi, not my great daughter, and certainly no one else. I may not be some fuckign gifted genius such as she is, but as I said, and reiterate, “I KNOW WHAT I KNOW”!!!!













AND THAT'S JUST REALITY, SON!

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Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
PAu000344219
1981



Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
PAu000204017
1980
Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
PAu000204015
1980



Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-
PAu000204016
1980













V-1) Our love was true, our love was rare



No other love could ever compare



Now that you're gone



My spirits are low



And baby baby baby, I love you so.









V-2) I can't express the way that I feel



My soul's in distress, and nothing is real



Now it's too late, 'cause I let you go



Oh baby baby baby, I love you so.









V-3) What can I do to make things OK



And bring back your love that sun fills my day?



Time's flashing by, yet all much too slow



Oh baby baby baby I love you so.









CRHS) Oh I love you so and I want you to know



I love you so and I want you to know



Oh I love you so and I want you to know



Well baby baby baby, I love you so.



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© 1977 Mark Wayne Mohr







It is amazing beyond any way to ever describe this in words, how Sarah-Stacey Krassle did all of these things, but she did, and it is all real and true, and actually literally happening to me, Mister James Tiberius Burr, of Gloucester-Sharks City, New Jersey, USA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!













But she did and she is Almighty Jehovah, and I absolutely know this to be factual. As for her very fave-game, “GTNOFG”, it isn't all that difficult to figure this out. She wants me to start wondering who is and who IS NOT a Type-3-exploratron, as well as a Phase-4-Entity, such as Cuzz-Trump. I've got your number, lovely teen queen of eternity, and it is not 231, but 00 when viewed on its side and without any space in-between the digits. How do you say this, Sir Chester-Frank, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE? Fine, then let's say it, YO, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!









Now how do we accomplish such a seemingly fucking herculean task, you may just be wondering, or maybe you're not, as how can I fucking know this for dam crissake, YO????









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Powerful illusion, or spiritual maya, as many great ancient eastern religions, and philosophies teach; is surrounding us all. It is sort of intentionally built into the system, as we seem to have a creative force who discourages us from getting close to knowing it all, unless along with that knowledge and wisdom, comes the ability to appreciate right from wrong on some ultimate level, and be sufficiently enlightened to a necessary point, where absolute power WOULD NOT CORRUPT US absolutely. This is what PINK GODDESS taught us, through the very same way that our great bible got written and penned by human hands, but influenced from beyond this realm, on invisible levels, and in this case; from the exploratron who was controlling the great writers and creators of the STAR TREK shows, and the one near th every beginning of it all back in 1966, called, “Where No Man Has Gone Before”. Now from unraveling this one tiny mystery, look at the great lesson that I have claimed to have learned, and that went over the rest of humanity's head. But this was not MY DOING, but Almighty Jehovah, by way of her fantastic GTNOTG GAME, (Guess The Name Of The Guests)!!!! Someday soon, for my own record and screw whoever is or is not up here getting the education of the fuckiGN cunt millennium, get into the powerful shit from the first week in June in 1980, and the great LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS dreaming-interaction, when Almighty PINK GODDESS sang this to me from her great Holy City of SAHASRA DAL KANWAL. I already know that the great one and only Mister Kenny Rogers knows a lot more about all of this than just his old flame from his boyhood days, up in Warren Grove, New Jersey. You know SJK abnd I know you do, Kenny. We can burry Superman and all of the great heroes, but not th egreat SSJKK! I wish that someday, you'd come forward and make my true story gain the needed dam credibility it must some day, if this dam world is to survive extremely turbulent times that are both imminent, and very soon to come, most likely in about 25 months now. The last possible generation of biblical terminology is 70, and 70 plus 1948 is just less than one Adele from now, huh all great number loving artists out there?











The GAWNUM can take us all to unfathomable truths, but without SSJKK's great game of 'GTNOTG', what good is half of reality, perfectly accurate as it may be? If I saw how the great SYFY SHOW, STAR TREK, was used by the Almighty Pink Goddess that I may call Alpigo for short, since this name is special between us, as it, just as with LOIS FOCA, takes the first two letters of those three words, and makes this one name; then what will I unravel and begin to see, kind folks, once I begin applying the rules to HER great game, on so many other people and things in my 61 years of life as present-me, Mark Wayne mountainpen Mohr, and yes, it is nearly half past 12 now on December 4, so I am turning age 61 years on this date? Where will it endocrinologists, or said without any prompting from smart-programs-Microsoft, WHERE WILL IT ALL END????









Fucking Disasterface Thistleweeds Sleazedisease Jane, just fuckiGN nailed me, at page eleven of eleven, so I must now compensate with my FIVES counter-strike, folks, YO!!!!









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I fuckiGN hate your guts Jane for what you did to me at that god dam fuckign baseball park back in god dam 1993!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOW---WOW---WOW---WOW!











My PhotoImage result for images free funny faces



END TRANSMISSION.

CHRIS, ED, AND THE MILITUFORCE BLOGAUD



CHAPTER 4

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It rained the entire time that I drove to my nut job clinic to see my Counselor, Jane. She is a very nice lady who really understands some of the things about me that I admit, because I am inside of my own self, do get past me; you know, the old forest from the trees deal? Well; I know, whether you do or not! WO.









Notice how on the other blog, Chapter-3, I was somehow hacked, and I could not post up any part of my typed in sentences, that asked my local sheriff to be watching out for me as much as possible while out today; and he DID A FANTASTIC WONDERFUL JOB, may I add. But I did have to type this directly onto the Blogger Dot Com block. It would not paste up without what I have come to name, as I have a name for each and every hack that the Milituforce enemies give to me and my P.C., the RH or the Redact-Hack. This is because it looks exactly like what one might expect to get if they sent a request into the government, for some information, and then were even lucky enough to hear back from them; all hacked out with black rectangles, just like you will find on my blog on Chapter-3, and folks, I am not doing this. I swear to this under my God, my nation, and my good name; legally on my sworn oath, under full penalty of perjury charges, should you prove me to be lying. I am not lying! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!









Yes, 'Hello' to all those wonderful folks in the land down under, where the women roar, and the men thunder. Boy that was a wild song, back around choke-year somewhere; you know, 1983. Well, it could be worse, Mister Abraham Lincoln-16-P. Gawnum or no Gawnum, he was a great man, and my personal fucking hero, YO. He also was our sixteenth president, of these great United States. I never said I don't love my mother fuckiGN country; ladies and gentlemen. Present government needs to be major downsized, and obey its self; you know, 'we the people'. But the dam lobbyists and billionaires scum of the MacInvondi Transdimensional Societies, the planet over; see to it that this doesn't happen. One bigger and more important example than bank failures and bailouts and all of that would be obvious to anyone who turns on any electronic device, and that is the dam gun issue. I won't even get started. And who the fuck would want to hear a dam thing I say anyway, even though you all know, I know shit about shit, that no normal human could possibly know. Oh well, 'SAY LEVY', in or out of great nations such as France, YO! May Goddess truly bless this really messed up planet of ours, peeps! It truly can always be worse, Sir Abe. I'll keep the great family secrets, for anyone related who just might know. And know, Copyright Office; that I only scratched the tip end surface of shit on my 1994 book about all of that, called, 'The Permission Barrier'.











Jim Burr knew some shit that went beyond Morianity but he didn't know one powerful piece of Newsy Nastiness, on or off of golden mountains, and very young coal miners from early in 1987. He was clueless to how I now remember being told one thing that meant absolutely nothing to me back in 1974, and I shuffled that memory of this, far away, and very deep down under; maybe half way to great Australia, Mister Lex Loo Thor; huh old buddy! Tell Will Smith to “get in the fuckiGN elevator”! Oh yes, he was as clueless as good old wonderful cool Poolroy-95! Or was Poolroy really so clueless, as I begin reflecting back now, in a new and more enlightened personal hindsight, YO? Say it Mommy Dear and Moomy Deaest, YO, as it is very proper and fitting right about now, “Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy”! Yeah Jimmy; Mister MacInvondi has boats and cars and planes, and a lot of other things, but only when he merged with the rest of the great Macy-Bunch, did he have access to the magical mastering machine, called by me in partial jest, the RUSS-15-Dublow. Take better care of it, says the great repair shop off of 95, back late in '80. Jesus, I must have done something right. Gold fate my ass, Mister Deathblow Merker Microsoft. You and me really know some wild mother fuckiGN shit, don't we NYU-Professor? ONE BIG BANG; huh Listener Theresa? Midge; tell my kid to take real good care of you. I really loved that dam dog, YO.









All I ever wanted out of life, Bob McDowell, and Bob Andrews, was a little peace, quiet, and tranquility. All I ever got was being misunderstood, robbed blind, ripped off, treated despicably and ferociously by horrendous, incorrigible trashy world owners, who think their vomit smells like pudding, and everyone else's rose gardens smell like rotten infected fuckiGN shit sewage. But all that aside, if we move from the third to the dam fifth dimension, the real shit begins to surface. Most folks could never do this in a thousand years, so why even type another fuckiGN dam word, BRAHHHHHH????????????????









Back in 1977, I met a real jerk off named Jan, who did sound recording, and thought he was a little god, at the age of twenty-nine. He had a little studio in a music store in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, where I did a total of five songs between 1977 and 1980; and he did such a rotten job, that Howard Solomon at the RPL Studios in Camden, New Jersey, reworked the mixes to make them a little more alive and a little bit better. This made Jan so crazy when he soon came to learn about it, I thought he and President Jackson were both going to go out in the woods behind the nearby race track, and duel it out with me, with old Civil War dueling pistols. There is so much more to this that it would fucking take years to tell it all. This person's name was given to me in 1975, by Robert Andrews and Albert Pileggi, one night in the basement owned by the parents of Albert Pileggi, in 1975; less than two blocks away from where I had attended two years of junior high school, at the Haddon Township High School, in Westmont, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG. Studying symbolism around me all of my life since I first met Sarah on Tennessee Avenue, in Atlantic City, New Jersey USAESMWG, around the age of ten years; notice the ANDREWS name being something that seems to pop up somewhere between major and beyond normal statistical averages. I won't even start to anger a lot of super-girls, sharks, teases, movies, people, job site locations, and so much more. I am too fragile and way to old, and puny, and soft, to get the crap kicked out of me, by all these rotten potential enemies. This dude with this studio called, MAXFIELD, after my situation with the MILITUFAWCES all got going, and super 'twisted-sister-nasty'; this fine 'gentleman' suddenly decided to get his trading license, and he became a stock broker; and moved out west to fucking California, with Governors I'll Be Bahk, and Roller Derby Brown; right Leo Quiggley???????











What you do not know is that this connection to stocks, as well as Arty Singer's son who was my own stock broker for several years a while ago, Richard Singer; Arty wrote the hit rock and roll song we all know and love, called, ''At The Hop''. This was the man who with his associate back in 1995, during my Haddonwood days, and right after meeting up with Poolroy, as I will call this really wild cool dude; did something to me, that has no earthly explanation. He would not let me trade with him and his firm, after trading with him upon numerous occasions, when he was with other larger outfits; even Merrill Lynch Pierce Fenner and Been, in the autumn of 1979. He and his pal had some lame excuse of setting up the account in a way that I could not make a dime no matter what, and this was a year where nobody but NOBODY COULD LOSE IN THE FUCKING STOCK MARKET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My mother and I lost 900 dollars while all those around me everywhere were making tens of thousands of dollars. It was a total set up. The one good trade I got into, he insisted I get out of, and into a different one, that lost for me, but generated for him a double commission; and this is of course where stock brokers truly make their money. One percent of these rat bastards are really able to make money in the market with their own real trades, and just take a few extra profits by generated commissions, from their clients. But this story cannot end yet, because in the very early autumn in 1979, I am the reason for the second gold rush in this nation, only this time, it did not involve minors, miners, goldmines, mountains, or songs, or stories, or sagas of these stories and songs; oh great mighty PAULA and ANN KING, of Atlantic City, and WAYV-FM Radio. Here is the beginning of my woes with WALL STREET, as the rumors are, and always will fly around, like Poolroy and his fantastic Gravigain Hypertronic invention, that he left to me one day, in the pool of Haddonwood Swim Club; and then he left this world about seven years later almost to the day. Not one of these things can be fact checked on the internet. Only I know these things. If it makes anybody out here feel like a hero, to accuse me of being the quintessential liar of century-21; then you just fucking go right on ahead with that!!!!!!!!



































































































END TRANSMISSION.




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