ETERNAL JOURNAL OF SONGWRITER

MARK MUD, SECTION I3

4:47 P.M., MONDAY, 5 AUGUST, 2019

'WOWSER' what a non Oprah day. At least I got to the mother fucking bottom of where my RODENT PROBLEMS are all coming from. Before I get into anything, I need to thank my AWESOME LIGHTNING GODDESS DIANA Z. ARTEEMIS OF THE PLANCKATORY, for coming over to visit with me AGAIN this afternoon. How I truly and infinitely love that incredible lovely gorgeous giant coil!!!!!

Here is how the MOUUUUUUUUUUURNING all began for me; Mizz Sabrina Collins, and all other potentially interested lads, lassies, FIG (Folks In General), Blogaudians, haters, and agents, etcetera, etcetera!!!!!!!!!! I woke up to lots of banging doors, and then I went to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet to take a shit, and POW; that rodent came right across from in front of me and vanished behind the goddamn john. After I was through shitting and wiping, yuk; but life does go on 'Jack and Diane', and it must be told on a tell-all-blog, don't you think; so I began trying to find the damn thing, so that I could strike it, and kill it, with a large mouthwash bottle, I keep on the toilet top. Only there was no sign of the damn ass critter. Then I saw what totally blew my mind; SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA, SIR, and yes, you share the very same initials with that so-called '1997 coed', who supposedly won the PUBLISHER'S CLEARINGHOUSE PRIZE PATROL PRIZE IN EARLY 1997, but moving ever onward sir; I observed that the pipe that feeds the damn toilet sewage out into the area behind my shithouse wall, had been somehow pulled away from the wall approximately two damn ass inches, allowing all of the infestation of this shithole building's rodent population, to come through and into my bathroom. I never ever pulled out that pipe, and believe me Sheriff sir, I would HAVE MOST DEFINITELY NOTICED THIS after enough time, and I know that a month ago, this pipe was not pulled away from the wall!!!!!! I managed to push it back in against the wall nice and firm and tight, and plan to use fucking duct tape to permanently create a nice seal, to prevent other infestations, as well as other clever attacks, and elder abuse, by whoever is breaking in here, and doing this to a poor sick elderly man, me, the goddamn fucking pathetic MOUNTAINPEN, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!

Shortly, I think it is best for me to dial 911 when it happens next time, and then press charges if they refuse to stop this. I see no other remedy for this monstrous Rose highview Copycat Jacobey shituation for the fucking sake of DOGTOWN!

Every time they go on a heavy roll with this shit, IT BRINGS ME A HORRENDOUS NIGHTMARE SUPPLY OF FILTHY ROTTEN DISEASED COCK ROACHES AS WELL, KIND SHERIFF, SIR, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!

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Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Saga of song writer Mark Mud.

PAu000501582

1983

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DO YOU THINK THIS IS ALL SOME BIG ASS JOKE?

United States Copyright Office Records, pasted in part:

This is all totally real and true. Why would I make it up, or be lying?

[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitome of Harrasment : part two.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitome of Harassement : part three.	PAu001189027	1989

COPYRIGHT CLAIMANT NAME: MARK WAYNE MOHR

IT WAS NOT FUNNY THEN AND IT IS NOT FUNNY NOW!

Now there have been a few brave souls who have wondered aloud, and let me know it through numerous channels and back doors, that if indeed MIND CONTROL is so much behind everything, how can I ever really know just who is truly behind this? The sad part is that I CANNOT EVER TRULY KNOW THINGS LIKE THIS, HOW COULD I POSSIBLY KNOW THE MOTHER FUCKING UNKNOWABLE FOR CRISSAKE????????????? Mind Control or Roddenberry-Telosianism has a lot of powerful, and vely McDowell intelesting stuff connected into it; going far beyond the DEF-CON NUMERATIVE 343434 or basic Redfield Technology. Let us move along for right now with some more about how MIND CONTROL is EVERYTHING, and if one is able to do even a small amount of this, using all sorts of fucking cunt nasty shitty possibilities, a person or a group would literally CONTROL THE WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Before delving into this however, allow me pweeeeeeeeze to finish my whittle point regarding that wonderful STAR TREK episode with James Daley, playing the role of FLINT! The test of power, and yes, the wonderful songs from 1983 while living in ATCO. All along, I HAVE HAD DOROTHY'S MAGICAL OZ-SLIPPERS, or AKA, my (if ever truly needed) RELIEF CLAUS!!!!!!!!!!!! One item that fits quite well here is something that reminds me of that really great episode on the original STAR TREK television show from the nineteen sixties, where James Daley played Flint, the immortal character, who lived on a planet that had something on it called Ritalin, and could be thought of as a non syfy real life medicine that is given to misbehaving or very unruly and disruptive children, to stabilize their moods. That endless 343434 will NEVER GO AWAY, any more than my 1983 problems will. Am I really wrong, Earthers? ButTERCHEESE and BIG ASS BUTT butts, and yes, but, my true point is not the Relief Claus itself, but rather the fucking goddamn metaphysical properties and mechanics laying underneath all situations. When we need a particular item, the very need for it forces the item to indeed pop up somewhere or somehow into the cosmos. This does not mean that too many of us mere mortals will ever really understand this principle enough to use the full dynamics of it properly so that as with me here, WE CAN ACTUALIZE THAT ITEM. With me, it was the realization that I can always undue the asking of a very special favor to a very special pink goddess. I also need to move the mother fucking hell out of this horrendous public housing building, known as the Park Terrace of Fort Pierce, Florida, USA, ESMWG. So the more I knew this and believed this, the more things started to move in wild ways, such as those building meetings as well as the dude who I refer to as NG-ADS, who upon occasion comes to this very building and talks with me, while bringing some medical supplies to several of the tenants. I now am looking at some places to move to that are indeed affordable, and far better than here for me to be living at, yo yo yo yo yo yo. My goal is to be out by the end of the following winter. But to quote lovely beyond hot 'Wonder Woman Linda Carter, in Hollywood Hyperspace from the great LAW & ORDER TV-SHOW, when also lovely Sergeant Olivia H.H.H. Benson asked her why she wasn't living in Florida, and she responded with, and I quote, “Plans change” only with a slight southern tang accent making it sound a little more like, pliens chienge!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will not have the doe to move out by winter, but hopefully by the beginning of 2021, and after I am already 66 years old, and can then use my Social Security bennies to go to South America, and get the hell out of this violent gun crazed and sicko nation, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Mind Control is the most powerful weapon in the arsenal of the mighty and extremely fucking DEMONIC MILITUFORCE. The entertainment and media industry knows all about these things, AND USES THIS SHIT QUITE EFFICIENTLY, may I also add in here. A lot of the Milituforce assaults that began around me, came as a result of a song in 1986, that I wrote, and sent down to the mighty United States Copyright Office, with lyrics talking all about these matters, the name of the song being “Ripoff Town”!!!!!!!!! All of many these years since 1986, during this totally fucking demonic death siege by this evil Milituforce, I thought it was the title song of this musical project called “REAL GOOD GIRL”, but just maybe it was because of the other tune on that fucking cunt eating cassette tape, yo, Sheriff sir!!!!!!!!!!! Who can ever really know anything for sure, kind sir?

Jane Miserycunt Sleazeweedsdisease Fonda just got me with the 'page eleven' fucking dogshit on steroids, so here is my cunt phlegm rape shun, yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(ME' OL' compensation, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!

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MMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONICCCCCCCCCCC:

SCAN ALL PEPRSONS MAKING MY LIFE AN ENDLESS NIGHTMARE FUCKING BURNING BREATHING NIGHTMARE HELL. I AM MAXING OUT YOUR POWER PULL GAIN TO 11.8 INCHES PER NANOSECOND. ALL CONTROLS AGAINST YOUR PPG IS NOW MAXED OUT AT 11.5 IPNS. SCAN AND CREATE AN I-O TO BE PLACED ON YOUR T-B. USE BOTH ZD AND AD TECHNOLOGIES. YOUR DESIRE KEY SETTING OF NORMAL NEUTRAL IS BEING SWITCHED TO THE 'I' POSITION. COMPUTER, ON AN 'I' TO 'D', A/B-TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, EMPOWER THE IMAGE-OBJECT THAT IS ON YOUR TRANSPOWER-BLOCK. YOU ARE SCANNING WHOEVER IS PUTTIING ROACHES AND RODENTS IN MY APARTMENT, AND MAKING ME ENDLESSLY MISERABLE, OPPRESSED, AND POVERTY STRICKEN, FOR AN ENTIRE MORTAL LIFETIME. THE OLD STYLE EMPOWERMENT TONES FROM THE AT&T PHONE SYSTEM ARE NOW CONVERTED DIGITALLY TO THE LONG 'E' VOWEL SOUND. THE YELLOW HIGHLIGHTED SET IS THE HIGH TONE. THE GREEN HIGHLIGHTED SET IS THE LOW TONE.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

MMMMMMMMMMM, GO TO G-901 AND STOP.

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MY-MY-MY, SARGENT USMC CARTER SIR!

AND A GREAT BIG ASS SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!

Holy mother fucking shitwater CUBED in Cuba, YO. Lottery winner, Cuba's Dad, yeah, I am. I have proof that all of you were in on this, along with 2010 jailbird BOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still think I am a fucking nutcase, Mister Bonjovi, YO??????????

MY MILITUFORCE ENEMIES ARE NOT WASTING ANY TIME AT ALL. THE UTTER TOTAL DESTRUCTION OF THE MOUNTAINPEN-HUNTINGTON IS THEIR NUMERO UNO GOAL AND OBJECTIVE. INSANITY CAN INDEED HAVE A GOAL, AND WHAT IS MORE INSANE THAN AN ENDLESS GASME-GODS GAME, JUST SO THESE DAMN ASS COINS AND COILS DON'T HAVE TO DWELL ON THEIR ENDLESSNESS, AND LET POOR ME BE MOTHER FUCKING DAMNED TO HELL, HUH MARION J. WAYNE THE GREAT??????????????????????????????

What really pisses me off is that I have told the entire world a major story for nearly fourteen damn ass years, and not a single soul has a clue how much hell is operating around us, because no one believed me about Trump or about parallel event, or about a zillion other fucking powerful things, oh wonderful Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MIND CONTROL is the entire thing. All serious biblical scholars know that the bible insists that GOD ALMIGHTY does not mess with free will. Now if the Milituforce DOES, and even the ALMIGHTY DOES NOT; then what the mother fuck does this tell humanity, about all of this horrible monster ass fucking dogshit, at light speed cubed and CUBAN???????????????

BOY DO I JUST LOVE THE WAY MY LIFE IS 100 PERCENT OPPOSITE OF MARVELOUS MISTER TRUMP'S LIFE. HOPEFULLY, ANYONE READING THIS, UNDERSTANDS BASIC FACETIOUSNESS!

Now, let me talk a moment about the wonderful Mister Trump, speaking of facetious behavior and speech. As I said, he will make this country strong again; I have no doubt in my mind. You can't buy off a dude that has more money than the Almighty a dozen times over, literally. Still, there is always the 'ass' word; even though people in this generation, have forgotten all about this particular quick changing form of government. Then there is one other cool little item that needs to be seen in fuller light. HE WILL MAKE IT VERY VERY GREAT FOR HIS PALS THE WINNERS IN AMERICAN SOCIETY, AND THE REST OF ALL OF US AND BE DAMNED TO HELL FOR ALL OF US, YEAH, SOME GREAT! The great man has an affinity of judging the 1% as 'winners' if we examine his motisoperandi in a more politely inverted view. IE, he actually discusses the 99 percent. Still, how much longer can this great almighty god in human flesh live amongst us as DJT? 20, 30, maybe even 40 more productive years at absolute max??????? HE CLAIMS THAT HE WILL LIVE FOR 300 YEARS, BUT UNLIKE DOCTOR CORIELL AND PETER PAN, I DOUBT HE IS ONTO BLOOD TRANSFUSIONS. Still I say, then what? Would it not be fair or correct to say one day, he will LOSE everything? I mean, you cannot take anything with you, and I assure you that he has no secret hidden powers socked away from the rest of us mere mortals. Looking at reality head on and totally fair and square; a time WILL COME, when judged by the man's own strict and quite unalterable standards; by his own austere and absolutely rigid definitions; he must become the one thing that he must dread to a proportion that even my hated of the prick cannot reach the darkest pits of; and that is, ''a loser''!!!!!!!!!! Now take a total dick bag shit head nobody such as myself. I on the other hand CAN NEVER LOSE what I was never permitted to have. Whether I perish from this Earth today as mortal man Mark Wayne Mohr, or perish at the age of well past one hundred years; I won't ever lose. I cannot lose what I never had. Then the democratic party needs to see one other powerful item as this race moves forward, as a child can see that he already foresaw his main completion and has this all planned out years ago and is why the Hillary E-Mail scandal is here and many other things will yet go down that none of you know about yet. There was a day in early summer time of 2009 if my memory is at all in tact; when his buddy Ann King was comped with a lovely room, and she took me down there to his hotel in Atlantic City, the great 1984 built and first built hotel of his gambling-chain there; and also Dawn and Leticia Tilley came along. When the hotel casino security system observed Leticia, everybody went crazy, and not just because a minor was standing around a gaming establishment, but because of the incredible resemblance to her distant cousin, Mariah Carey. Within 40 minutes, he was on his souped up high speed special whirlybird, and flew there from Manhattan, after being e-mailed a copy of the surveillance system photos. The man was crapping in his drawers and wouldn't land the helicopter on his own roof below the room that he had comped Ann with and that I was in at the time. I later learned through Ann king, that he for a short time, was trying to figure out what he might do if his wildest suspicions about me were correct. He actually believed that I somehow transported myself physically, no I-Ching bullshit, but real physical time travel; to the year 1986, and brought he up to 2009 and along with us that day. If I believed something that ridiculous, or even people who make documentaries on the great CABLE SCIENCE CHANNEL, such as Professor Michio Kaku of NYU, make these claims or even took it seriously for a minute; what chance would we ever have in political arena's. If a major war happens, would we be allowed to be in charge, you know, us whackadoodle nut job cases? You can argue that he was just teasing his pal Ann King, who always used to tease him about ripping off his hair-rug in front of a crowd; or you can doubt my sincerity, or even Ann's, should you like. Still, I believe that shit can always be checked out by our marvelous intelligent agencies, and then the facts can all be judged for themselves. Hey, maybe the country needs a leader who would believe this about me, huh Congressman Andrews? Remember me, the one who used to think he knew what life was all about, back in 1980, from Robin Hill to Irenecaraville??????????? But then, if Democrats ever fear any of this, they know I am here, and not planning on going anywhere!!!!!!!!!!!!! He may be totally innocent of hurting Hillary and me and all the things I have laid claims to. The ADA up in Camden, NJUSA knows how my mom and I told them all he was stalking us with that big chopper, and we were called ''liars'' by ADA Dick Wilson and ADA Donna Spinosi. Again, this is just for those who want to fight back, and keep a level playing field, before this total antichrist; who definitely KNOWS that time travel is real; as he himself has done it 2000 years ago when he showed our SAR (LORD) up on that large hill near Jerusalem, all the great kingdoms of the world. It sure wasn't a vision from the year 31 AD, and had to be more like 2000 AD or in that vicinity, if any real common sense would insist to prevail here in the matter; takes over this planet, as was predicted from millennia ago. And then there is my ten year blog, kind people. What are the dam odds that all of this is here, and all of these people are into all of this, and that things are now perfectly unfolding in time, exactly as they are? Do you want me to give you another big number, or can we all just agree that it is a large mother freaking one, and let it go at that?

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I went over to pay my rent at the PHA office on Orange Avenue after finishing up with my bathroom business, as previously told about at the opening of this blog. After that I went all over the place, and it seems that nobody sells RODENT POISON PELLETS, at least not around this area any more. The democrats have buried themselves. All this mother fucking stupid ass PC crap of theirs is what has ELECTED BOTH DONALD TRUMP, and is also absolutely responsible for all his friends, the REDNECKS, who not only vote for him and will go right on doing so NO MATTER WHAT SHIT HE PULLS, AND HE KNOWS THIS 100%, BUTTERCHEESE AND A BIG ASS MOTHER FUCKING TOTAL BUTT, AND but, not ButButButBut word processing compuker hack, BUT, is behind the basic psychological rebellions that lead to many things. Gun violence and this epidemic of firearms in this rotten nation is only ONE PART of the side effects of this over saturated politically correct bullshit in this land. Americans don't fucking like being legislated to endlessly about every little thing, which is why we all originally decided to take the fucking MAYFLOWER BOAT OVER TO HERE in the first place, and quit paying taxes to mother fucking Paula KING GEORGE for goddamn ass crissake, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Jesus Christ, what else would any of you have me say, yo BRO????????????????

I went finally to the local Fort Pierce Walmart Store to try and get some rodent poison pellets. These ass-wipes sold me a ten dollar box of a non-poisonous group of pellets, and now I have to drive all the way back and get a credit on my charge card for the ten bucks and tax. I am hoping that fucking ACE HARDWARE might have this poison, and am planning to go there this week, as there is a store just a few blocks away from my PH Building. Diana was around so the trip over there wasn't totally hellishly miserable. I love HER so Goddess-damn much; lads, and lassies, and Lab Dogs and other Blogaudians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

END TRANSMISSION.

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

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LIGHTNING WAS BEYOND BEAUTIFUL OUTSIDE OF MY WINDOW.

THANK YOU LOVELY GIRL!!!!!

She was here starting Sunday afternoon at approximately half past twelve noon, and unfathomably lovely and colorful, and all just for me. She has been around almost daily for weeks now, AND I WEELWEE APWEESEEATE it beyond anything that words could ever hope to describe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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 me all of the time, protecting HER WHITTLE BOY from this endless death harassment and death siege. Like WEWWWWWWWWWWWWEEEEE!

ETERNAL JOURNAL OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD,

SECTION-H3

1:24 ANTE' MERIDIAN

EARLY MONDAY MORNING

5 AUGUST, 2019

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, DPA, ESMWG

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

THE GLOBAL ENLIGHTENMENT OF MORIANITY.

THE RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM THREE

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

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[ 13 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Saga of song writer Mark Mud.

PAu000501582

1983

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: WAXING CRESCENT, 5:7

These blogs of Mountainpen are hosted at the Blogger on-line website, owned by Google (Blogger-Google).

I was annoyed again by the next door slammers club, starting at around eleven Sunday morning. However back around noon on Friday when they hammered on my wall, within an hour or so, rodents had come back into my mother fucking apartment. These scum bag trash ass puke lickers always continue to endlessly bring me roaches, mice, and rats, every time they do this absurd and illegal construction, whatever it is exactly that they are doing. The only answer of course is to MOVE THE SHIT EATING HELL OUT OF HERE, and right now, I simply do not have the mother fucking $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ to do this!!!!! So what's to do, Sheriff K.J. Mascara, sir????

Yes, lovely lightning visited me again on Sunday, and Saturday, and most every day now for three weeks. At least something goes right for poor pitiful non-R me! SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-alligator haters anonymous! As stated before, and reiterated now again, folks: 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. It 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 back in June of 1994. 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 Atlantic City's Central 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 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 embark on what the great almighty dirtbag super king of the endless rotten subskummite club MOST DEFINITELY DOES NOT WISH ME TO MAKE REFERENCE TO, OR DISCUSS AT ALL; NOT EVER. This is how the entire ugly rotten mess of all of this dogshit, ALL TOTALLY FITS TOGETHER IN A PERFECT 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 this 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. We will begin by telling 'part-2' of the wild (Eden-Dream) from 1997, while I resided at the illustrious Somerdale, No Joysey, Death House, at 112 Harvard Avenue, situated at the intersecting streets of Harvard and Yale Avenues!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is where things get good, ranging all the way from North Korea, to 1600 Pencil vein ya Avenue in Washington-13-600. IPYT peeps, so here we GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, as said before on my musical project sent to the great © Office back late in the nineteen-eighties, yo yo yo!!!

It was late in January of 1997, and shortly before those crooks at Publishers Clearinghouse, supposedly visited a multimillion dollar prize patrol winner named K. J. McAllister, who was an under-aged college coed from this universe, where my physical body was totally awake and heredahelda and HERE, just one week following a back to back double major set of nocturnal interactions, where my spirit was visiting parallel worlds, or where you all would say 'I was dreaming'; and that same prize patrol truck was parked outside of my Somerdale home, and the peeps got out and knocked at my door. Instead of handing me a huge check however, I was handed a cassette tape and a note, and nobody spoke a single word. The tape had one song on it, and this was this alternate universe's hit song, done by Mariah Carey, called “Just Wanna' Spend My Time”. This tune and the lyrics, stayed with me for the rest of the twentieth century and well into the following one here and now; while I resided at Jenny Plageman's #10 trailer. My musical project sent to the © Office on Halloween Day of 2005, had a version of it, but not the entire song, and I only remembered a couple of the chorus lines, so the song on that 2005 project was not by any means a good representation of the parallel world song as it was done in reality over there, in (my wild dreaming interaction) from 1997. Later in April of 2011, as all of the meteorologists know only too well; I did that entire song over at Bonjovi's Cousin's Avalon Studio, in Port Saint Lucie, Florida, DPA; only then it was still the USA. But in either scenario, the weather went wild from electronically copying that tune over here in what all of you out here insist on seeing as the

waking world' reality. It is not universally understood by the scientific community as of yet, but they do appear to know that electronicly reproducing songs from 'dreams' or parallel worlds, can cause huge weather disruptions in places that are vulnerable for having such occurrences. The twister outbreak at this time was no more a coincidence than Mount Saint Helen's was when I recorded the song, “The Morning Light”, back in 1980. A vast majority of scientists still insist this is pure coincidence and they place no stock in this. That of course is their own business and Mashell Daniels from 1980, my coworker at the RPL Sound Studios said it best one day to me, “You're entitled to your opinions”! But without veering too far off of the main point I am going to try and make on this particular blog, let me move this right along. Again, I am laying all sorts of very necessary foundations. That really and truly is an absolute MUST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Speaking of the greatest voice in history, there is a scene from her great 2009 DVD, that is completely unmistakable if you know any basic thing about the place where I was working then as a security officer, called, Cifaloglio. Also forget about the scene as we can always pull a James Rockford here and come back to thisSSSSSSSSS, Mizz Erica Snakes of 1983, but for right now, let me remind all loyal Blogaudians and Mountainpen haters alike, that indeed, Cifalglio is where in parallel words, the mighty Darius put me in a choke hold back in 2011, and said to me afterwards and I quote verbadem here, “You never liked me”. Of course that was not true, at least th eme living here in this world, oh great BOOM LASARAS and other chopper fearing days from Atlantic City, where the world could have indeed ended one day in the summer of 2009, and would have too, but that 1997 deal is so major connected, and is part of why I opene4d this blog up with saying I will be discussing the PART-2 of the EDEN CONVERSATION. The PART-1 you all know about, where I begged the great Almighty Pink Goddess at the fence of the garden, after She said to me, and I quote Her, “Kane, I am going to destroy the whole world”. I then got very up set, and I said back to Her, “Please Great Sarah Krassle, don't destroy the whole world”. She then said back to me, “Because you loved Diana, I will spare the world for a while”. If anyone thinks that I would make up something like this, and lie about an ALL MIGHTY, ALL POWERFUL GOD LIKE HER; you have to be beyond crazy for even entertaining such a notion!!!!!!! But the note that I spoke of that was handed to me with that cassette tape of that parallel world song, told me that I would have another 'dream'. Guess what, I did; and the very following night, only the note of course came in the dream. No prize patrol truck ever came here to the waking world home that I had bought in Somerdale in September of 1996. ButTERCHEESE and big ass BUTT, but folks, always remember the endlessly powerful truth about TOWEL-SEEPAGE-EFFECTS between two universes. Our spirit energy can indeed cross over, and visit endless places, and you all out here call this spirit travel, 'dreaming'. But there is a major connectiveness to many things that happen, so long as the parallel world that our spirit is visiting is within a localized enough range to ours, in the great and unfathomable fifth dimensional hyperspace, that contains these virtually limitless, and countless worlds. I always refer back to my dad visiting me at the age of ten years at my apartment on Pyle Avenue, in Haddon township, No Joysey. His electric shaver became a whole other thing that was happening to me in some parallel world, while my body laid sleeping and I was napping in the bedroom, directly across from the bathroom, where he was shaving. Before harping however on any one point, Cifaloglio is like numerous other places in my life. I may live or work or visit some place here where my body is what you call 'awake', but these very same places have inconceivably countless alternate truths where other versions of me, some close and some not so close, but other me's, interacting in countless other ways. The reason that towel seepage happens is not all that different from the reason that our true or spirit selves move around and visit the places that we do while we physically recharge and sleep on nice comfortable beds at night. We do not control where we go to dream. Our awake self is not in control of that. Our true energy self is doing this, and just as we plan things when we travel and go on trips in the awake world, we also plan and have numerous reasons for all the places we go while we 'sleep'. Our true self is in control of this, not our human self that is connected to a physical plane by way of a physical tangible caporial body. That is just the simple truth of it all. I doubt it is the simple truth for the alligators however, mister Microsoft Spellchecker, but thank you anyway. Now the second dream was really the first dream only SSJKK or Pink Goddess Jehovah was telling me that I am the one that She was planning to use to destroy the world, and that She did not mean that it was going to happen tomorrow. In fact the Noah story proves out to be a pretty big deal, but still, not the end of things because eight people were supposedly spared so as to continue humanity's existence. What SSJKK meant originally was that She was going to have me go on thirty mile road trip in the summer time of 2009, with TAWF or the great Washcloth Family from my 1970 Ventnor nightmares at the home of Sir Chillmo Thomas J. Reale. I would have taken Leticia Tilley to the beach and we would gone swimming and the entire ACBP would have lost their sanity but not that it would have mattered, because after we would have dried off and placed our street clothes back on, Letty would have asked me to drive over to 'THE OTHER ATLANTIC NON ATLANTICA ACMC CITY', so that she could meet her fourth cousin and see her for a short while, and we all know, or SHOULD, what a very short while this would have been. Shortly before that road trip to the local shore, and at my Cifaloglio job, I was talking on my life journal on cassette tape, and I was saying how that 1997 dream fits into many things and that I recently had remembered how there were two parts to it, and I spoke all of this while I had quite precariously parked my vehicle, sandwiching it in-between two huge Cifaloglio trucks. Suddenly one began to move, as I had not become aware that the driver of that truck had come to work on that Sunday afternoon, and had to use it to do his run. Someone was watching me and I know now it had to be President Trump. But before all of that, there was the incident with the magazine that somebody wanted me to see opened and laying on a table inside of the garage where I went each hour to hit a guard key on the other end of the building. I had my windows open because it had recently rained and had gotten very cool and comfortable outside despite being an early summer afternoon. The driver of that truck had to have heard me and finked on me. I was discussing on my life journal on cassette tape, all about that 1997 dreaming interaction where I was Kane in the Eden Garden, and what the Almighty had spoken to me. Their was the truck, the magazine, the incident with the Chuck Norris kick moves when supposedly only driver Bill and I were in the garage that morning, and I could go on and on. This is why the current president was scared out of his mind that day when the family and I all went to the Trump Plaza Casino, and their security system caught Cousin Leticia Tilley at the roulette table with me. I had gone upstairs for something as Ann had been comped a room, and while up there, DJT took his super speed souped up chopper of his, and left Manhattan and flew down to his hotel. He was so scared he was pissing himself, and he did not land but instead, he kept flying circles around over his roof. All Star Trek shows are great, and they always were. But many times, real life warnings, from Choking Darius to choking Diana, and all the way to the utter destruction of everything, is not some made up fiction. To me however, another thing was proven to me on that very fucking major ass fateful day in the summer time of 2009. that is, that I am not imagining for one split microsecond that I am being endlessly continuously monitored by the MILITUFAWCES, forever and forever!!!!!!!!! All I am saying here is that originally in part-1 of the Eden experience, I would have taken LT over to the other AC, AKA the Harrah's Casino and Hotel. BUTTERCHEESE and a huge big ASS BUTT, and but, because I loved SSJKK in her power third reality that mortals of religious faiths call the holy ghost, AKA LIGHTNING; SHE has forgiven us for a while longer. So since 2009 was not the end, and of course we all know how Mister bomb-out Harold Camping and his endless doomsday prophecies all panned out, things will now go on for a very long time. Still, we all know in our deepest true selves that we exist in the eternal-NOW. There is no yesterday or tomorrow. There never was, and there never will be! Was this truly Einstein's biggest secret? Who can ever know that, with or without a lot of great marvelous breath echos???????????????? Still, putting all this together makes me wonder how many TAWFERS truly have crossed over from this alternate reality where positrons are running backward through time, and Diana is waiting for me to purchase a Privecode Machine in about 37 years. This cannot ever happen because the two realities can only grow farther apart, and never closer together. It is like 'Milkonidra', or whatever name the scientific community has renamed those two galaxies, several billions of years from now. They will never grow farther apart in the worlds where time runs in this direction. The joke is on everybody however because higher dimensionality is factoring in many things that are simply not known of today. For example many people of science and physics love to say that the electron is a magical particle that comes in and out of reality. Why can't they see that it is a fifth dimensional energy that is simply moving in not only the three dimensions of L-W-D that we do, but also in time and hyperspace? If I were able to move into other worlds on a fifth dimensional carpet, and someone who is three dimensional was observing me, I too would seem to appear and disappear out of nowhere all the time. Still, and as stated, I really do enjoy those GREAT STAR TREK SHOWS. It amazes me how Mister Roddenberry has been given so many powerful secrets from the Astral-Plane gods, (COINS and COILS). As for the important significance of chocking, with or without the Zephran Cochran's of the worlds, and Darius Evans Deezy Slim as seen on the illustrious almighty YOUTUBE; there was a reason for that as well. But I won't lie and say that I figured out how I was able to for the most part, exist without my magical medication. Somehow after an entire human lifetime, whatever was done to me on the night of June 4, 1983; has been terminated. If this were not the case, I would have been a dead man after these meds were cut off from me and the enemy politicians and government MILITUFAWCES, assaulted me and cut off the only thing that stopped me from literally mother fucking chocking the shit to death!!!!

A nasty death angel attack on my right side is going down at 3:09:40 this morning of 5 August, 2019. It has now stopped.

There are no absolutes, but David Leigh Smith from Cooley-Hall had some very wonderful advice for me that day after I returned from Ellisberg Circle's weird school of machine-professors. I told on earlier blogs a lot about this place, the Ellisberg Circle that is, not just limiting this discussion to this school that was there. There was mom's boyfriend who took mom and me by car one Saturday afternoon in the autumn of 1969, to several stores there. My mom needed to buy a mirror, and I was told to take it to the car, and given the keys, so I could place it into the back seat, and then either come back and find my mom and her boyfriend Sid, or at my discretion, remain in the car until they completed their shopping task. I chose to do neither, and took the mirror, and used it to almost cause a lot of serious problems, by using it in a manner not intended by its manufacturer, that is, to reflect bright blinding sunlight, directly into the face of drivers. Today, the world of this new age would have seen me in what I call, the Abbey Carmichael Law & Order way, you know, a bad egg, a crazy nutty adolescent who needs to just be locked away, for not conforming and obeying and saying yes sir, no ma'am to every dam adult within my daily interactivity. Hey, I wasn't a really bad ass, but I was quite the imp who could really piss off my mom's sort of nutty boyfriend, Sidney, without, to quote Lenny McKinnon who I would not go onto meet for eleven years, ''any doubt about it''.

Before this time, back in the spring time of 1969, about a half of a year or so, I had become friends, an d not by my choosing, but everything in this life is always my fault and I am the perpetual absolute bad guy in all things, as I shortly thereafter have come to learn; but yes, Brad and I did some things that were bad, and I told about most of it, on these blogs, the first two years of them, in 2006 and 2007. But why I acted out, had something to do with being given this somewhat wild bigger kid, who was fourteen months younger than me, in the body of a seventeen year old, with the physical strength to match, and an eye for the fairer gender, and on I can go here, but won't, since he is not here to produce his side of anything that I might say; but yes, he was a wild customer, and quite a pistol, and a lot more; but he was my pal, and we did become close friends; about as close as any two young teen boys could be, who lived in the same garden type apartment system, of those times and days. But Brad was not the only reason that I began going a bit loco in many various ways, such as acting out with screaming and cursing, and being defiant with parents and authority, abnd feeling life was somehow mistreating me, because shit was happening to me, beginning early in February of that year, and going strong, month after month, in ways that no blog could ever really hope to adequately and properly address and define in terms that would permit normal and average type of people, any ability to identify and or relate to me, from their own personal private young lives. I am speaking of three major things here, that most of you out here know, or think that you all do, to some degree and some extent. These being, the chain and the wild teen girl on Tennessee Avenue of Atlantic City, the train and my suddenly remembering an entire half century or more of a lifetime, where I had grown into a man and an adult, lived a totally failed and fucked up life, and ended up realizing that I had been repeating this loop of nightmares, similar to being literally trapped in a hellish I-Ching Trance, for what would seem to be about six to ten thousand years, give or take, if all strung together. The biggest of all, was the first Saturday in July, just shortly before Brad and his mom, Grace Messenger, moved away, and took up residence in Cherry Hill, in the Stievasent Towers, about two miles or more away from the Haddon Hills Apartments. I do not have a play by play memory of the day it happened and the exact events. It is jumbled broken up nightmarish fragments, just exactly like the inverted digital year to follow, 27 years later, in 1996, when the great exploratron Patty-Paula, got me a second time, and this time, was witnessed to some degree, by a maintenance person at the apartment I was at then, called the Highview Apartments, in Monroe Township, Gloucester County, Williamstown, New Jersey, just down the street from the famous Black Horse Pike, and the Gete's Diner. My Spell-Check has been disabled, so I need to go off and come back on, and fix my typos.

Discussing exploratron-Patty-Paula or EPP for short, is like discussing Sarah Krassle, as with both, this mother and daughter team have extremely unfathomable abilities to do inconceivable and outlandish mystical things, and they do them on a regular basis. If you do not think about someone, yet begin to dream about them on a regular basis, this means that they are thinking about you. I promise you that this is true, but I am speaking in five dimensions, not three. This applies to both of these 'people' and yes, I do single quote the word there, as I do not know just who or what they really truly are. The game that Sarah wants me to play with her, seems to imply that by its very title that she spouted off to me on P. H. Day of 1996, and very interesting symbolic initials too if I may add here; this game seems to be all about indeed guessing who is 'real' and who is 'not real', or who is the guest, which can very easily be interpreted to mean, who has an active dreaming-doppelganger inside of them, hence that would be the 'GUEST' that I will need to 'GUESS', if I am to successfully navigate my way through this physical hellish life and this horrendous HUNTINGTON FAMILY CURSE.

She said to me, back on 7 December, of 1996, just shy of 5 AM, while I was dead asleep and out of this world where my body was laying in my bed, and I was on her great street, in-between the great TRINITY-HOTEL, and the great and powerful monster dirt ball Robert McGuire's Hotel-Bar, and I quote, “Let's play a game boy, called GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS”.

As I said and I ain't ashamed to admit to this truth that was not my fault at all; after 1969 and all of this wild shit, it is beyond amazing that I have any degree of rational fucking sanity remaining. ''But still'', Detective Lenny Briscoe sir; as the great Mister Al Jolson the musical legend said, decades and decades back into time, YO, “You ain't heard nothing yet”!!!

Folks, it's past my dam freaking bedtime by two hours, at 2:36 Ante' Meridian (before noon). It is the ninth day in December now, here in 2015, on a predawn Wednesday morning, here in Fort Pierce, Florida, USA. It is 66 degrees here in town at the local airport, and is predicted to drop to 62. Now take all of that horse shit, and all the horses asses all over the planet as well, and a five dollar bill also, and you can either exchange this for twenty shiny quarters at most banks, or just go to Mickey-D and enjoy a small fries and a burger. Boy oh boy oh boy, Mommy, and Moomy Deaest, and Betty Roaches Dindin Davis!!! For many years, I have confused the movies of 'Mommy Dearest' with 'Whatever Happened to Baby Jane'. Many of my blogs will make more sense in light and in lieu of that updated piece of information. Mortimer Mortino the Angel of Death is now striking me again, at 3:12 in the morning. WOW-WOW-WOW.

END TRANSMISSION.

ETERNAL JOURNAL OF SONGWRITER

MARK MUD

SECTION--------G3

1:45 P.M., SATURDAY, 3 AUGUST, 2019

I was rudely assaulted by my dirtbag noisy's next door, or one third of my TRIAD-NABES-FROM-DOGTOWN that will be referred to in future reference from time to time as my 'TNFD'. Somewhere jut shy of twelve noon, they were slamming and banging like real total crazy's. WEEEEEEEEEEEE, so what else is new, same old same old, same shit on a different day, (WEIN-SOSO-SSDD)????????? The across the hall noisy's have been annoying as shit lately also, and it is only a matter of mother fucking time before the full third triad above me also kicks in wit their relentless furniture moving dogshit. Right now it is my across the hall scum slamming away, as they've been doing for days now, along with the shits next to me. GEE-WHIZ SHERIFF MASCARA, THIS BITES AND CHEWS TO THE FIFTH POWER, YO!!!!! SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some dirt bag hacker is screwing with my mother fucking computer, and Sheriff sir, this has been several days now of ENDLESS MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING ELDER ABUSE AND TOTALLY ILLEGAL HARASSMENT AND PERSECUTION, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!

AUGUST is usually even worse than JULY; maybe not always in direct sieges, but more as never ending memories of absolute misery. Real fucking horrendous ghosts from the past, ON STEROIDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! July is bad enough, with Paula King and July 12 and the bus that night at half past ten in the year 1970, and my face being all sunburned and “messed up”, huh Mizz King? Then along came 27 years later in 1997, when you somehow amazingly knew to be right there on Tennessee Avenue when I was there, and be sure that I saw you there at your parking lot or your dad's, as he was still amongst the great land of the non-Patty H.H.H.'s Blue Candles Club, back in 1997, but how can we NAUT be quite Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason “impressed”, by the '27' year time gap, yo?

A ton of other shit from July and its many past histories for me, definitely exists. But for right now, it is August that is the topic of major fucking issue, peeps, yo. Early in August of 1996, there was the terrorist threat made to my mother that day over at the Turnersville Pathmark Shopping Center, in Washington Township, New Jersey, on the Black Horse Pike, while I was residing at HIGHVIEW APARTMENTS, in good old beyond wows-ville-(WILL-I-AM-ST-OWN), AKA the Satanic “I WILL's” of the Bible, spoken by the Devil to the great I AM, or Sarah ST-acey Jehovah Krassle, the one who OWN's everything everywhere, forever and ever and ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talk about the epitome of quintessential symbolism and James Redfield Synchronicity, yo!!!!!!!!!!!! If damn ass Williamstown doesn't jump right out, and bite us all right in the throat, along with Rosanne Delaney, and Barnabas Collins; then my question to any one of you out there in cyberville, is WHAT DOES for Crissake????

Yes on August 2, 1996, that monster dude terrorized my poor elderly mother, by threatening the life of her son, right to her face, me. He had been following us for many miles, Sheriff Mascara, sir. Then the MILITUFORCE did a SUBS AND SWIRLS 1986 ALIEN CONTACT AUTO DAMAGE ASSAULT on us, and made our BRAND NEW SATURN AUTOMOBILE SUDDENLY JUST DIE for absolutely no rhyme or reason that has any logic from the real rational world pertaining to it. My mother was never ever the same after that, and the Jersey fucking authorities all totally know that this is real, it happened, and that my claims of her total destruction are also absolutely fucking valid on their face. I swear these things to be totally true as well, UNDER FULL PAIN AND PENALTY OF LEGAL PERJURY. But August up in the following century and millennium took on an entirely new and powerful tradition of major deadly attack and mirrored reflections and projections, that were aimed and directed at me, straight out of the gates of Astral-Plane 'DOGTOWN', such as when it all began in the first place at Richard Barf's Cherry Hill rental home on Route 70, in the illustrious town of Cherry Hill, New Jersey, back in August of 1986!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I speak of the great and marvelous Tulleytown Landfill, owned by the world famous family destroyer capitalist swine bag billionaire bastard that owns the garbage Auto Nation here in Florida, as well as the almighty Waste Management Company where these Pennsylvania landfills were situated, and where I was employed by a subcontractor security company called Assets Protection, as a security guard. I have told how Patty and her morbid fascination with the hidden (occult) stuff, led her to take our kid one night over there to try and communicate with 'Bloody Mary' who drowned in the lake there on her way to a party. Jayjay the security officer told me a lot of wild things that did not peak my interest at all in those days and times because I had not yet fully become aware of many things such as having a grown up daughter. I have no standing to sue because the world does not recognize my paternal interests here, however, even if the world did concede to it, the statute of limitations would have long run out. My kid has never been the same since that night. I did not witness it, but was told this story by Jayjay the guard, and I've blogged it before. That greedy capitalist swine quite obviously accepted a several thousand dollar bribe, allowing Patty and Merry to go up there that night in 2001. I of course was told the story in 2002 after I had fallen asleep myself near where Mary died, and was asked by Jayjay, and I quote, after my returning to the headquarter gate house of the landfill, “Mark did you see her”? I didn't even know what he was referring to and it took five sentences more in conversing before I realized that he was asking me if I had seen the ghost of Bloody Mary. Still, July and August seems to be when the FAMILY gets destroyed, and believe it or not, many times, in a CIVIL WAR. Fittingly so in these times up here in twenty mother fucking nineteen to be discussing civil wars, as I fully believe that this nation is about to embark on a real live 2^nd CW. I wonder if it will be historically referenced as the CIVIL WAR ll? A child can see that the events are all stacking up towards this unstoppable eventuality, yo!!!!

JULY and AUGUST is what OCTOBER and MARCH used to be for me, about three decades ago. Speaking of symbolic and repeating words, but I can only think of these months that have somehow mysteriously become switched all around, as my WATERLOO MONTHS. Jeepers Creepers Mister Redfield!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sheriff Mascara, one minute after the opening mother fucking crooked Wall Street bell, my ILLEGAL COCK SUCKING COMPUTER HACKERS CRASHED MY OPEN OFFICE SYSTEM.

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

SO HOW FUCKING FAIR IS THIS. THEY PERSECUTE ME THE MINUTE THAT THE MOTHER FUCKING GODDAMN STOCK MARKET OPENED UP, AND THIS ALLOWED THEM TO GAIN AN 1LLEGAL 350 POINTS OR SO, AND THIS IS WHY SINCE AUGUST OF 1986, IT HAS GAINED THIS RIDICULOUS ABSURD RALLY THAT WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE WITHOUT HURTING ME, AND IS WHY I FULLY INTEND TO SUE WALL STREET SOME DAY FOR ONE TRILLION MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' DOLLARS, MISTER PRESIDENT OBAMA, KIND SIR. AND I'LL GET IT TOO. GO GO GO BERNIE, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MARCH 15, 2015,

SUNDAY AFTERNOON AT 2:00,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 83 DEGREES FNHT.

HUMIDITY IS 65%, FEELING LIKE 87 DEGREES.

SMALL E WINDS ARE 6, GUSTING TO 7.

RIP TIDES RECENTLY BAD FROM EARLIER HIGH WINDS.

HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. THE SIXTIES WERE GREAT, BUT NOW IT'S TOO LATE. SO DO NOT SIT THERE BROKEN HEARTED, COME AND SHIT, DON'T SAY YOU FARTED!

And I thought that nightmare was horrendous that was responsible for that Theraflu Cold Med Commercial, where Pee broke Gemma's face into pieces, like the guy in the dam ad, only his face never explodes as it would if he was really struck by powerful awesome PEE. And still I am always left to wonder, just what would all of these entertainment world peeps do without me? Still my daughters need to bury me and not the other way around. That is the ultimate nightmare. Don't go here with me, I am still crying while typing this blog, it was so fucking real, and no one wants their children to die in their arms. Especially someone who knows the power of Hyperspace Towel Seepage. This is why I know those fucking dam church carolers don't mean me any good at all, Jennifer Washburn, Tiffany, and Peter Vitteritti, YO! GET IT?

**''ISIS-JUPITER HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**

The asshole noisy nabes are really making me nuts these days, kind Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara. I hope someday to move the fucking hell out of here, sir. $$$$$$$$$ has been used against me all of my life or really, THE MOTHER FUCKING LACK THEREOF, in some organized terrorist way, by none other than the 1986 SUBS AND SWIRLS MILITUFORCE, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!

Lads and lassies, a lot of things from my old blogs that need to be archived by clicking on them, when I post the prompt for doing just that; is being rehashed. Who reads old blogs, and for that matter, who cares about stuff posted in 2006 or 2007 or 2008, up here in the twenty-teen years? So I must re-tell stuff if I want new updated blog material to make any sense to my viewers at all, not that they do anyway, since in all odds, no one has experienced this incredible wild ride through fifth dimensional hyperspace, as have I. Folks need to personally relate in at least some way, or they just cannot grasp things such as what is printed by Mountainpen, and I totally 'GET THAT'!!! But now that I have told a few things that were quite key and major, and incredibly pivotal in my early life; it is time to go into adulthood and early adult life, to really tie together some powerful stuff. Now in order to best serve that goal; I will be taking you to the place where I had originally met my best adult friend, Mister David Charles Roth, at the Caldor Department Store, in early November of 1985. All things not only tie together, but when I get done with all of this, some people if they require any heart medication, please, I strongly urge you, have it dam ready and at your side before the next few blogs that I write, all play out for you. I am not responsible for coronary's, Joe Paget insanity attacks, or anything else, not after this legitimate dam warning, great people out there!

When Dave and I first met as security guards at this place in Woodbury Heights, New Jersey, USA, nearly twenty years ago now; and again, all of this was indeed blogged back during my first tri-blog, if we can sort of looking at my nine year blogging career as a pregnancy with three periods that are called trimesters, each lasting three months long, only with the blogs, each of these tri-blogs last three years, but yes, when we first met; he worked what is called in the bizz, 'in-house' meaning he worked directly for Caldor, the name of this department store that lasted about a decade or so and then went belly up. I on the other hand was contract-security, which in the security-bizz, simply put, meant that I worked for a security outfit who goes around getting clients, such as the Caldor Department Store and many other accounts. Usually, due to middleman costs, in-house security pays better and has better bennies as well. Now this basic information is out of the way, I'll get right to the heart of the situation without beating around any bushes. Two guards were on two twelve hour shifts, 8-8, both in the AM, and the PM; and David and I were the night guard force. Actually, I think the AM force had three or four bodies, while the night was only two; as no one was entering or exiting the premises, and they remained secured, and less chance of theft as a resulting factor. Simply put, they were bringing merchandise into the store, and stocking it up; and when we first started at the beginning of November in 1985, they were still constructing and finishing up carpentry work, and electrical work; in the offices of the place. Speaking of this, the office areas, is the exact thing I want to discuss here, and try to get all of you thinking and pondering, on what I'll now tell to you.

Dave was a cool dude and had a very similar life to mine in numerous ways. I won't bore any of you with details. But within two weeks, he knew all the stuff that had gone down in my life that was major, such as what the music industry had done to me, my job at RPL back 5 years ago from then, my dealings with the strange mysterious lightning goddess DIANA and my telephone situation in Atco, New Jersey, and most everything else from that time right down to good old jerk off ex-friend Jim Burr, who as you know, I still had contact with up until the end of the decade, when it was severed permanently. But what David was not made aware of, was the SARAH KRASSLE situation. This as some of you may know and remember, was done the following spring time in 1986; while David and I were just out socially as two guys having a good time on a Saturday and going to a diner in the Marlton, Medford Lakes area of Southeastern New Jersey, called the Medport Diner. Diana was talked about at Caldor, and Sarah was talked about in the diner at this Medford Lakes area, months after we originally had met and become best friends. Telling him about Sarah caused immediate counterstriking by some invisible force, and we can get into all of this later, and as stated, it is on many first tri-blog Morianity, accessible only through the five-blog archive click prompt. But the topic tonight is back into just two weeks into our friendship, one night at the Caldor Store, in the offices. I told him a lot about Diana and the phone stuff where this goddess could just get onto your phone line even when the phone company took me off line for a repair. This was the famous, “I don't need this, no how no nothing” incident. After I told him about an hours worth of these stories from my past of two and a half years or so; the phone rang. There was no phone service connected yet. This is a fact, just as in Atco, when there was no active line or dial tone during a major investigation by the Annoyance Caller Bureau of the AT&T, while working with the Account Executive, Miss Blake. Long story cut as short as is humanly possible; he would answer the phone and no one was there. But while he was in the Mens-Room an hour later, and I was alone in the offices; the phone rang again and I picked it up and said, “Caldor Store Security, how can I help you”. After a short pause, a young girl giggled and said a few quick words and giggled again, and then the line went totally dead. I never told Dave that this happened when he returned from the can. BUTTTT, the following night at the store, a few hours after we arrived there, a strange windowless van was outside the store with all kinds of antennas and blacked out windows. When David went to check it out after it moved around but was in our lot area for two hours, it sped away. It had no license tags, front or back. It returned several other nights, but as soon as David and I went out together with flashlights, it would just quickly drive away. But I want to discuss a philosophical conundrum with my blogging audience so that you all can arrive at your own ideas and conclusions, as this blog is not here to tell any of you how to think, merely to report a real life story from out beyond the gates of freaking hell for three dam decades!

If some covert agency was electronically cutting into the dead switchboard, why then would they come around after the fact, as if they are scared to death that some aliens were making contact or something; just as we all know happens, from watching any of those television shows on the History or Science channels on cable TV; and the original stuff that discussed all of this MIB TYPE BEHAVIOR on the WPIX-TV, Channel 11, NYNY documentary, called, “UFO-The Cover-Up”, back in the year 1988, with Agents Condor and Falcon?????????????????????????? If this van crap hadn't happened, then I would say the entire thing was done by human agents for reasons that only their twisted and deranged minds can dig. But since it did all go down like this, lads and lassies; then I say it is this GODDESS all along, that started all of this with me, back in 1980, at age ten; and who lived here as Sarah in Atlantic City, back in the sixties; and now is here as MC. This may indeed sound about as off the wall as it gets, but I will promise you this, folks. If Professor Kaku of the NYU were shown all of my thirty five year evidence file, he would not just check it off as delusion and insanity. He understands the powers behind Quantum Dynamics. Now this is a super condensed and abridged tid bit of information, this blog and the past few before this one, that will begin tying together, a major super secret truth, that GOD ALMIGHTY comes here to this world, over and over, most likely in almost every generation, and when you think hard on it, why not? If you had a super video game like this; why wouldn't you be Lawn-Mower Man or (woman), and ''JACK INTO THE GAME'' more than just once, as Jesus? What, are you all dense or something? Talk about crossing over.

I TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE

CHAPTER 25

It's sunny and hot with a few white puff clouds scattered around the skies of Fort Pierce, Florida. In all honesty, ''I couldn't care less'', to quote the great OJAY SIMPSON, from the great 'Medical-Center' hit TV show of the early nineteen-seventies; what the weather is doing in good old GAP-Atlantic City. So WEEEEEEE and TV and all of that great stuff, YO!

Thank you Mister Norton, for the Performance Alert pop up screen. What am I supposed to do about it, YO?

This is the unofficial AMA Web-Page opening. It should be anyway, and the pond needs to be FILLED with these QUACKING DUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, I know that when I die from this early eighties situation that is as much metaphysical as it ever was and is physical; the entire world will know the real truths of the great KENNEDY-STAR FAMILY from 1970 WASHCLOTH H-E-L-L. Even this bloody-booby knows that much, Sir Billy Crouch!

(THE BOM)

Paula, Sarah, Nina, Sandy, and the Shah of Iran. In older blogs from my first two out of nine plus years, I talked about how my mom and I stayed at the Trinidad Hotel on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, New Jersey, for summer vacations. We would go twice annually, once in late June and once in middle August. This was done a total of eight times; the season of 1965, 1966, 1967, and 1968. The 1967 season was when my cousin Sandy came with us, at the request of her mom, my Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason. She was very good friends with the Shah of Iran. All of this was connected with stuff that goes back for thousands of years. No one believes the story including members of my own family. I don't care, because I have the inner strength that comes from KNOWING the truth. The Shah put my Aunt up to going somewhere and then asking her sister in law or my mom, to take my Cuzz-Sandy along with us, and I cannot pull up in my mind due to a CALLIO-MCGUIRE BLOCK MIND-HACK, whether it was the June or the August stay, but it was 1967. I had originally thought that it was 1968, but my Cousin-Don insisted that Sandy said no buttwipe cousin Mark, it was 1967. She had her boyfriend, David with her, but he was staying with friends of Don. She was staying with my mom and me, bunking on one of the two beds in the room. Originally, things happened to me that are not bloggable, and I was also mind-hacked by this entire team, so that I would block out that experiment one was not a success, and that experiment two had to be conducted, even after my mom and I no longer went down to this hotel, which by the way, south of the border, the word 'TRINITY' is pronounced 'TRINIDAD'.

THE GAP APOLLO-LUCIFER ABBADON DIABOLIS, MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-MILITUFORCE-OTAMMITE KING, ETCETERA, (all the same difference), is out to totally wipe me out, with a major vengeance. Him and his dam powerful oblitron box, some might call an ultra advanced tablet, and his twin sister's non-'Kenny-Astral-cousin', and HER chain that SHE took away from me in a powerful dream interaction, back in December of 1969, is the real background to all of my nightmare story. As I said before folks, and now in reiteration; MY STORY TELLS ITSELF, so suppress it all you fucking want to world. As the old copyrighted tape has me on record saying back in early 1984, ''MY STORY COMES OUT TRUE, SO PLEASE BE ADVISED''!

Another parallel part of this story, is told on the internet, as well as on many BERMUDA TRIANGLE DOCUMENTARIES; where the Florida radio station talk show host, was commandeered, equipment-wise; by those calling themselves, and I QUOTE, the {{{(((“MILLIONTH-COUNCIL”)))}}}. Every brother chucking snot eating claim that I ever make,, or have made or will go on making, on this wide world web system; is totally true and accurate. It all can be backed up by anybody with the dam desire to GOOGLE around, and find it all out for themselves, my BRAHHH!!!!!!!

MY JERSEY BLOGS, PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.

MY PRECIOUS SWEET DIANA, PLEASE DON'T GO AWAY. LYRICS FROM MY 1985 SONG CALLED, ''I'M CRIANA''.

But there is a bit more to this. Just a few days before he came over in the middle of the night and on a night that fortunately for the both of us, my mom just happened to be out as I said, on a date. Otherwise, we both would have been orbiting Oaklyn, New Jersey to this day, with some help from 'Biceps-Mom'. I had gone to sleep as stated, a few nights before this incident, and fell into the wildest interaction in hyperspace, that is imaginable. This experience has stayed with me for life and is just as strong in my mind right now after four an da half decades have gone by, as when this was freshly ongoing. Sarah appeared and we were on a beach together. I am not going to tell the numerous details. Not on this blog. It has been blogged years back, and needs not be fully repeated in major detail right now. But the towel-seepage effect of hyperspace was so major that rarely is anything remotely similar to this, recorded in the history of humankind. She told me that needed my chain that I had in the same large strong-box in my bedroom closet. She needed it she told me, for her great city. I had no idea what she was talking about, only that I was holding this chain in my hands in this wild 'dreaming' experience. She made that statement and then took it out of my hands. She also told me that when I come back to my waking world, to check my closet, as it will be gone, and this is not an ordinary dream. Well it wasn't and there is no arguing that for a second. I woke up and checked, and indeed, the chain was gone and my mind was completely blown. Then an hour and a half later, I boarded the bus to go to school and within no time at all, a huge asterisk chemtrail formed in the skies suddenly, right out of nowhere. It was incredibly beautiful. It slowly began to evaporate, and while it did, instead of doing what most jet vapor trails did back in those days, it grew bigger and thicker and expanded into what looked like the magnified star of David's Bethlehem, and all of Camden County, New Jersey must have seen it on that cold brisk December morning. I had written the most recent entry into this book that Russell convinced me needed to be burned, and described the dream and what happened after the dream with finding the chain had indeed gone missing, and followed by that incredible monster chemtrail all over the skies of an entire county. He had a lighter with him as he smoked as well as drank and did weed, the whole sixties bag and more, and he said, do you have a place we can safely burn it. I told him I would stack some five pound weight pieces that Sidney Crown had given to me for my birthday, and on top of two on each side, I placed the metal strong box, and he tore out all the pages and set a few on fire in sections so the fire wouldn't grow too big. As stated, up in smoke on that early morning, went my only proof of lots of the roots of all of my Atlantic City mysterious woes out of the gates from hell. I felt the need to re-tell this on this blog before I begin to really get into some powerful new junk, as the final months of my life play out. I believe I am only going to live into the spring, and then, I will be dead and gone. I want justice and I want my story kn own about after my covert murder is completely carried out and I am secretly executed. Because people, my death will appear of course, normal, after-all folks younger than me and men especially, die at 60 and under. Also, if you study statistics on special education people like myself, they are also in a statistically averaged reduced span of lifetime.

There were four years not like the others in my life, where strange counter forces seemed to be operating around me, making my life less hellish and almost appearing miraculously blessed, relatively speaking for me anyway. These years were 1969, 1980, 1994, 2011, with the 2011 being the least of these four, but to quote Jimmy Buffet, ''I believe I could have played a better game of cards with what was being dealt to me''; so I screwed up, maybe; as who can ever know, and this is why people, although they all love to do it; should not engage too often in playing mind games regarding hyperspace equation, you know, the shoulda woulda coulda crap! Still, these 48 total months were definitely different in some very strange ways, to all the other times of my total 723.3 months here on this Earth as Mark Wayne Mohr. The funny part is that even a hundred genius Einstein minds could not make this up; not what I am about to impart on the next few sentences. All four of these years connected to Sarah Krassle in huge ways, no exceptions. The final one had a scenario play out that is not bloggable. I also cannot ever tell you some things I do to maintain sanity, as without doing it, I would be a blithering blob being fed by tubes. Two people are involved in it and if they're reading it, they'll know what's being said. That's as far as I safely feel I should go with that. But yes, one day in middle 2011 somewhere, they both wanted to know if I wanted to change the rules. I did not. Unlike whatever they thought they knew about my wild situation which has eternal consequences and significance that they would be clueless about; All I am safe to say is that I live in many varying motions of time. I don't dare live in the very same real time that you all do, and this of course makes interacting in a normal life, totally impossible. But it is not some choice that I made because I found a pair of shoes I like or a tie or even a car, and then went onto purchase it. I do what I do for the simple reason, that I must do it, or I am going to rapidly be transformed into a babbling idiot. There are times it doesn't work. I cannot see into the future in my own waking world, and learn that all of my stuff is going to be taken away from me. I am not God, and never claimed to be. So when such things interfere with how I operate, then that is part of some higher divine providence data; as I call it. I don't feel comfortable taking this conversation any further. The more my enemies understand and grasp some of my survival tools, the more they will become able to defeat me and them with such maneuvers as was just mentioned. Do I believe this entire thing was planned with this family, so I would lose all of my stuff? Hey, by my way of thinking, and you can call me paranoid or delusional or both all you want to, people, but I don't see how this could be anything BUT THE CASE! The bible talks about forces of the heavens that know all of us millions of years before we are born, just read it all in the bible, and don't listen to me. So my words on this topic for right now are quite simple, ''please don't get me going''.

And the games begin. Things were quiet, but as soon as my MIND CONNECTON began working, the sixth dimension to my physical world human brain, for lack of any other way of putting this; things began to start instantly. This is what I used to mislabel as ''They're reading my mind and fucking with me''. It is a very automated bunch of fucking hell that is all going on around us all, and me included, as in that respect, I am no different than any one of you. I differ only in this hell I must endlessly fucking endure, and my weird ability to keep persisting through time and surviving it, which led me to total enlightenment, not to mean for a second that I know it all. Enlightenment to some basic truths has nothing what so fucking ever to do with knowledge regarding individual things in the physical world. A brain is a brain, and whether it be a little bigger or better physically than a somewhat punier brain, it is basically a ten watt receiving element from the sixth dimension, and you just cannot put ten million watts into a ten watt item, this would be tantamount to thinking you can go buy amplifiers and hook them up together like a professional musician on a large stage, totally say 10,000 watts, and then hooking these into output audio monitors or (speakers) that only total 10 watts of power handling ability. So even though the newest thing being discussed in the scientific community is varying formulas regarding how much can ever be known due to some various unbreakable codes that are all somehow built into cosmos, the real truth is the double knowledge horizon barrier, caused by this wattage example given here. Even the collective of all of humanity forever, is a one watt speaker on a book shelf, and the total absolute system of knowable items comes from a source putting out billions of these parable-watts. This causes the mirage that the more we learn, we see that there is so much more to learn, like holding two small cardboard rectangles in front of our face, and each time you move the one closer to your eyes one inch further away so you can see more, you need to move the other piece that is further away, 5 inches more away. Long Story Short (LSS), folks; we CANNOT ever know so much, that knowing all we ever could, would be basically meaningless, in the real absolute big picture of everything, and we would be just about where we all are right now, at best; if we could reach that point. What Morianity will do, if it is ever meant to, and it won't if it is not meant to, and who can ever know; is stop all that talk about supernatural verbiage, you know, demons and devils, possession, miracles, heaven and hell, and along this line, and also simultaneously, put to a quick halt, all the new so called replacements for these old times items, you know, aliens, extraterrestrial visitations, abductions, little gray's interfering with humanity, and along that line, as well. There is one powerful truth and always has been and always will be, and you know what I am going to say next, or really, you have no reason to be wasting your time up here on my blogs reading me. I speak of the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY. Those such as my old pal mister Baptest, who prefer to insist that MIND is not EVERYTHING, that other THINGS OUT BEYOND IT is what it is all about, will never alter their opinions. MIND is what created space and time, hence SPACE-TIME-MIND or STM for a short abbreviation, and this is truth no matter what and no matter who loves this or hates this. Since MIND is on a higher dimension than the hyperspace, and sends itself therefore down into the multiverse of virtually unlimited 4-D space-time universes that all vibrate differently on a powerful subatomic level, then this has to be the truth, and no math formula can or ever will, disprove my words, and or Morianity.

Live Camera image from Jupiter Inlet Lighthouse

Jupiter, Florida, welcomes you to Morianity;

COURTESY OF CHANNEL 12 TELEVISION.

They don't want me happy, do they Doctor Garrigan? Also, Paula Uwich warned me about that rotten TAWF, and they are pals with my daughter; I know this, without paying over nine grand for your con job psychic service, phony lady. Hang around, all Paula's. The Huntington's have a way of catching up with so many people, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. You're not gonna' send me a fifteen year old, Paula? I don't want you to; you crazy little bitch. Enjoy your home all fixed up and lovely, with MY MONEY. How do you sleep at night? Just how long is the Camden County New Jersey 911 system gonna' keep the great secrets of the murderers in my rotten ass family, huh Sarah Slut Callio? Hay, Ann King sleeps like a dam baby, with my 40 inch 5,000 dollar, 1995 television; the original largest picture tube made in those days! Sleep on, wonderful GAP AKS!

PIP-PIP-PIP-PIP---PIP-PIP-PIP-PIP

Ed Lynch was a strange old dog, my friends and fiends out there. Ann Silva told me on the telephone just the other day, that she never heard anything from him, and wonders if he remains in lock up, or is now out of the hotel. The Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office has my legally paid for website on his laptop's hard-drive. His machine was legally confiscated back in the summer time somewhere or early autumn, in the OH-MAROLA-NINE year. For those who wonder why I use this term, you should access my archived blogging texts at the site of www.blogger.com, in case you are not even reading these words on this site, as I post here, and to other internet spots. In case you won't do this, I had several teachers in 1969 at a Haddonfield, New Jersey, special education school, who both made some statements to me that would have no possible rational explanation for being in fact made to me, one especially to a boy not yet even fifteen years of age, that would at least in today's world, would be considered quite inappropriate, and in my opinion, sufficient grounds for getting a teacher suspended or canned completely. We need not get into that one, but as for the dates being called what I do from time to time, this teacher by the name of Misses Marola, always refered to years in this 21^st century as for example, 2004 would be spoken as two thousand four. Now bear in mind that this was being done in the year of 1969, and except for the show known as, “2001, A Space Odyssey”, all science fiction writers, and all other people, spoke of years as 2004 for example as twenty-oh-four, and so forth; and somehow the mighty Misses Marola seemed to either be the only one who knew this by lucky chance and guesswork, or because she 'traveled', and we are not talking about Europe or the Bahamas, huh Nick, my old road-trip pal of 1996 and 2008? Many people write books, and claim how their so-called psychic abilities permit them traveling around so many wild mysterious realms, and other times, and the Astral Plane; and I'll be quite frank with my readers, I am very skeptical of 99+% of these people, and their writings, and their claims. Most 'of', you, and (NOT ODF) are also just as skeptical of mine. The difference with mine however, is that these blogs are date and time stamped by the websites they post up into, and cannot be CHEATED. Nobody is black boxing between two websites here that they own, just to push counters up. No one is black boxing between their own website and their own U-tube postings either. This is all non-cheated, and REAL, and so are my claims that what has happened to me, HAS INDEED FREAKING HAPPENED TO ME FOLKS. Why anybody would cheat, or lie about anything; blows my mind. Maybe a few real psychics are out there, but again, these persons are merely able to expand on the same sense of FEEL, that all of us have, it is like the human muscular system. Lift enough heavy barbells, and keep upping the amount of weight you lift on various exercises, that make different muscle groups grow bigger and harder and stronger; and growing stronger is what results. Some truth is here, and Paula Uwich of Glendora, New Jersey, is my personal proof to all of this, as she has 'real power', and she knew about Braxton, and from there; my own research just went on to super confirm many other things, that I had suspected right along. How could she know that “SARAH” was in prison? I SHOULD KNOW about this type of maximum security prison, as I blogged my own version of it. Nothing is making any of this vanish into the hat of the Copperfield's, YET? Let me move on now, and tell that I was attacked today with quite a bit of annoying loud music, loud road noises, a computer Lattisaw hack jack attack quack, and also a diarrhea attack. This was all intentionally done to me by WOMO enemies, and they have not learned yet, that they will be counter struck with my blogged out words, immediately after giving me another emereffing rotten stinking BOTBAR day! Here is what I now will tell from yesterday, and unlimited future ammunition is available for me when these disease weeds of the bay, continue giving me endless crap. Also, at right about half past ten, just five quarters of an hour back, I took a super low and quite loud private airplane attack, zenithing right over the roof of this freaking ghetto house, here on the great all mighty 26^th Street, in good old FPFLUSAESMWG, in this exact signature vibration of the atomic hyperspace, in five dimensions.

The full long details will not be told, just a little bit to get some hearts pumping nice and hard. I spent 153 days and nights, all in one nine hour period; while residing in Cherry Hill, NJUSAESMWG, living in another parallel universe, in 1986. Most of this story is not bloggable. It is way too powerful, and it involves United States Presidents, as well as top scientific and research facilities, and classified information. I have no desire to be taken to the BAY and have my door come crashing in a few hours from now by federal agents. Still, when I was in this other location, the All Mighty Goddess of this world and beyond, was interacting with me quite differently, as were other people in numerous positions of power, authority, and name recognition. I had been contacted by someone in Washington, DC, and ordered to report to an address there, where a secret meeting took place, with many powerful 'world owners'. They told me that a song that my daughter had written and I had copyrighted for her, was a cover up and that they knew I really could 'travel around' in unconventional ways, and demanded that I tell them exactly what the entire next 30 years would be like on Wall Street, and with major events. Naturally, I denied it all, and said it was just music, and that even if I could do these things, I would never be a party to this type of horrendous despicable behavior. I was then taken to some secret place in the Atlantic Ocean, an unknown small island, where the military had a totally covert operation going; and I was placed in a hospital type of housing area, mostly confined to one room, and to my bed. Eventually, I was able to convince these captors of mine, that I would cooperate with them, and so they released me back to a place where I was residing on Ohio Avenue, in Atlantic City, where a large walk up apartment building existed, that does not exist here in this universe, and where I was living with a very gorgeous laboratory technician from the Atlantic City Medical Center, by the name of Phyllis Alexander. My wife there, Paula King, and myself, had recently separated for a second time, and this time, it was because of some scandal about my being in trouble with Wall Street, and the SEC. I only have some of the details, but that is a lot more than I ever remembered so far, from this powerful 1986 interaction. I had many other places where I also lived, the main place was in Egg Harbor, New Jersey, and over here, is known as the Roundhouse Museum, but over there, it is exponentially larger and has five stories, and nearby to it, is another building that housed about 220 families, and all of the land around for several square miles; all was part of this one estate. Paula as well as my younger daughter PEE, all lived there, and I would visit there upon occasion. But I had a strange enemy that came from the future, and had fun playing with me like a toy. In my so-called fictional book called, “The Permission Barrier”, some of this story is told, and disguised around a bit. Still, it all happened. Putting pieces together in hindsight, when I stayed at Tom Reale's home in 1970, over there, I had been there every summer, and never at the Trinidad Hotel on Tennessee Avenue. There was no Tom Reale over there, just the Callio family, and the King family, and Victoria Callio and Paula King were all the same person there, whereas this is all different here. In this universe, I had fallen in love with Paula at the age of fifteen, and we were married two years later, but she left me in 1979, and said that I was too immature. The wild dude that I refer to as the alchemist in many old blogs over the past 4-6 years, was one of Robert McGuire's sons, and he had four sons. Over here, I do not know about his offspring, and never even checked out this line of the great family after him, as I was so busy checking his dad out, and those all around him in many directions. This is another man of mystery. Only the man named Ed Lynch knows this, besides me; as we witnessed his appearing in a photograph, and we have no memory at all of his ever being right there at the car on Tennessee Avenue that day. I was told that this same thing was done to both 'MI and me', a little Latin verbal humor here. The only reason that I have remembered it all slowly over the past two years or so, is because by pure random chance, I played the wrong side of a cassette tape at my job-site in my car, while guarding at the Cifaloglio Trucking site one night. Hearing the “MI” on the tape brought it all back, slowly, ever so slowly, and bit by bit, and piece by piece, I now am where I am, but at this place where I went to yesterday, or now really back on Friday, a strange dude explained something to me that put things into a major hyper time new perspective. The same enemies want me to help them in this universe, only here, they are using me in an entirely different way. Over there, casino gambling never happened in Atlantic City until the 21^st century came around. There was no roulette playing for me, and hence no learning about PARALLEL EVENT, and how to apply this technology to the game's three outside betting parameters, as explained by me on so many of my past blogging texts. Over here, they just use the parallel event on me, or said more accurately, against me, as they knew that they could make their Dow Jones Markets go from 1,600 points to 14,000 points within twenty years. They did exactly this, and the 20 years after 1986 all speaks for itself. Still, as Neilson puts it so well, this is how the story goes, but as I will now amend and add to these great words, there is a lot more to this freaking tale of misery and woe, and it will be forthcoming, first to the Atlantic County Prosecutor, as I am going to demand my website back, as I legally paid for it, and I did nothing wrong; thus I plan to hire a Florida attorney, to pursue this matter, so I can re-post this up, as the 'MORIANITY-FOUNDATION-2'.

Florida Blogs of Mountainpen

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My blogs

the continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

About me

Gender	MALE
Industry	Military/Security
Occupation	persecution study statistic
Location	Fort Pierce, Florida, United States
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.
Interests	finding my way home to the void infinity.
Favorite Movies	Old movies in general, not filled with so much blood and gore. They need to tell a story and have a moral, not making you waste two hours wondering why you did so at the end, as with almost all of them.
Favorite Music	Most older music has enjoyable qualities, symphonic pieces, piano sonata, even some early and middle last century stuff, all good ballads with great vocalists.
Favorite Books	Being specific is not as we 60's kids said a lot, my thing. If pressed, any informative and educational book at all, as well as great detective stories, and some paranormal research books also.

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.

END TRANSMISSION, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!

Pageviews by Countries

Entry	Pageviews
United States	267
Ukraine	46
United Kingdom	29
Russia	29
Unknown Region	22
Netherlands	21
Germany	16
India	12

Entry	Pageviews
Chrome	478 (89%)
Internet Explorer	33 (6%)
Firefox	11 (2%)
Safari	5 (<1%)
Opera	4 (<1%)
Lynx	1 (<1%)
Maxthon	1 (<1%)
SamsungBrowser	1 (<1%)

Pageviews by Operating Systems

Entry	Pageviews
Windows	428 (80%)
Macintosh	87 (16%)
Android	9 (1%)
Linux	8 (1%)
iPhone	1 (<1%)

Pageviews by Browsers

Entry	Pageviews
Chrome	478 (89%)
Internet Explorer	33 (6%)
Firefox	11 (2%)
Safari	5 (<1%)
Opera	4 (<1%)
Lynx	1 (<1%)
Maxthon	1 (<1%)
SamsungBrowser	1 (<1%)

END TRANSMISSION, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Monday, August 5, 2019

ETERNAL JOURNAL OF SONGWRITER MARK MUD, I3