The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment": NUMDWATATES NOTE M1

NUMDWATATES NOTE M1

5:15 ANTE' MERIDIAN

SUNDAY MORNING

8 SEPTEMBER, 2019

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

STATS ON THE 'BOM' BLOG:

Aug 24, 2019 5:00 AM – Aug 31, 2019 4:00 AM

Mountainpen's LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:

Sunday, September 8, 2019

CURRENT PHASIE IS: WAXING GIBBOUS 3:7

N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 F.Q.

WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6

WXG7 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5

WNG6 WNG7 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4

WNC5 WNC6 N.M.

Two points are going to be made on this blog which will NAUT, Mizz Blake and all other AAT-BLOGAUDIANS out here, be a long winded numerous boring pages blog, IPYT!

First point is about how many people that it takes to either incredibly bless or ruin any of our lives. Being quite damn blunt about it; we all know it only takes one person to do either one. If you get capped by a nutcase gang shooter who needs to make his or her bones to join, and you are DOA at your local hospital, it only took one person to do absolute and quintessential harm to you. If somebody who needs to get an item in a store who is behind you in line, asks you to trade places because they are in a terrible hurry and are late for a doctors appointment, and they offer you a five dollar bill and a fistful of Power-Ball lottery tickets, and one of these tickets wins you 700,000,000 dollars the following day, again, it took only one person to make your life totally giddy ass wonderful and marvelous, financially anyway. With me, I never had anyone on my positive end of the 'human' electromagnetic spectrum', and I had a dozen or two who most definitely were on my negative end of the 'human' electromagnetic spectrum', and to reiterate my point, it really only takes one really good one or one really bad one to utterly wreck, devastate, ruin, and totally decimate and destroy anybody's life. This is a fact every bit as real as the fawces we all call 'LUCK'. Now most of the time, in excess of 99% I am quite positive, no one person causes another, the epitome of a life change, either positively or negatively; but then most people do not get fatally struck by lightning either. Still, it does happen, both with Diana, as well as one person doing absolute good or bad to anyone of us at any given time. So let us take this fact that any rational mind must agree with, and then deal it down just a little bit. Let us say that one or two dozen people are the average amount of these folks around anyone of us during our lives as human beings here on the Earth-Planet, and move on with this discussion based on this more average and conservative numbers game. With me, I can honestly say that I never ever had one single person who at this present time second in my mind, that I can say would score one single point on my life's ledger on the positive right-black side of the bookkeepers notes. On the other hand, on the negative side, I had as I said, about one to two dozen lovely folks who have scored major left-red numbers on my bookkeepers notes. 'That is just reality son', and I do not have time to be funny on this blog and post a CAP in here of funny-face lookalike to Mister Dennis Snyder from up in Jersey. Now out of the people who took large sums of money from me, I admit openly that they are not on the top of the list for those who marked up by ledger notebook in huge large left sided red numeration, proving again, MONEY ISN'T EVERYTHING, despite the words of wisdom from other great wisdom-men, one in particular being the great illustrious Mister Leon Mitryk of Burlington, New Jersey, back in the sixties and seventies. He and I had that powerful conversation one late morning in his car where he told me as a sixteen year old youth, about, “The almighty DOLLAR”. This has been blogged numerous times on previous and non precious blogs!

The two people on the very top of the negative ledger book, who in my best guess and opinion that is based on numerous powerful things, many touched on in many prior blogs, and many not yet talked about; are a man and a womabn who believe it or not, in real estate terms, are quite connected, and I know for a fact shared their enjoyment of alcoholic beverages in several bars as younger peeps, in Gloucester City, New Jersey. I doubt that they ever met or knew each other, but who can know anything for sure if it is not known? Still, I have a great respect for synchronicity, and I do not believe as most shrinks do, that putting associations of things together, is not a rational form of thinking. It does not mean that things are indeed always connected, but I do promise that they certainly can be, and to just dismiss things of synchronized values because the mental health society encourages it, is nothing short of allowing ourselves to literally be blackmailed through threat of sociological ostracization. I refuse to be intimidated or threatened by the American Psychiatric Association (APA) or anyone else attempting to legislate how I think abnd feel about my own personal things and my life. Screw them all is my damn attitude, now that I have managed to get off of their meds and not be under their control and legislative power. I do not have disdain for proper authority and or proper legislative processes, BUT folks, I have great anger and animosity towards those bullies out here or most definitely are abusing their power and authority over us and literally attempting to remove all of our freedoms, one by one, and hidden in the clever forces of gradualism. Yes two people are responsible for the total destruction of my life by OTHER-WORLDLY FAWCES, who in my opinion, began hounding me and wiping me out, as am immediate direct result of my interactions with these two lovely peeps. These peeps are Patricia Hollister and James T. Burr. The joke on the entire cosmos with all of this, with the biggest laugh on me I would suppose, is that these peeps did not have anything against me. I honestly don't fucking think that either one of them woke up on any morning whatsoever, thinking to themselves, “Gee willagars, how can I really fuck Mark up”. Again, I said, I don't think.

Still folks, remember that it only takes interactions from one single person, in any big way, normally invisible at the time it is happening, and poof, lights out, or for the lucky amongst us out there, lights bright and full of lovely colors.

Folks, Mister Smith of Cooley Hall, told me that when real evidence shows me that something is not imagined in my head, such as the message on the blackboard that could only have been written because of what Mizz Zenkiss said to him while I was off at that other magical school at the Ellisberg Circle; that even if it seems hard to swallow and is very unbelievable, then it should be taken quite seriously. I always had weird things around me since I was knee high to a small Chi-dog and so adults around me when I was still growing up, often thought of me as very imaginative. I wish that I had that much imagination and talent for making things up. Actually, I stink at it. I tried to write some totally fictional books back at Jenny's #10 trailer after the turn of this millennium and believe me, they totally stunk. I am no fiction writer. I do not imagine shit, nor do I make shit up. But still, this was what the folks around me believed and they still do, and this is why I blogged so many times about that day with Mister David Leigh Smith at the Cooley HH Hall. Even Mister Smith who thought that I had some wild delusions and fantasies, let me know quite openly, that I did not imagine that lovely student teacher Mizz Zenkiss had spoken to him concerning me, and that caused what he wrote on the blackboard in an English Lecture that showed the difference between sentence prepositions and all that English hocus pocus. The message said, “He runs away every time that I come near”. Hey, I did, because she was chasing me, and I knew it. I do not imagine shit!

Jane Sleazeweedsdisease is trying to get at me with her mouse prompt of four ones being displayed, and I am doing all that I can to mother fucking ignore it. Still it is really fucking pissing me off, so I am going to write in some rows of five numbers.

555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555

I am past the page of ugliness, and ha-ha to Mizz Witchbitch. Now I am getting a fucking fire alarm going off at nine minutes past six on this rotten Sunday morning. It is as if HALLS FAWCES just had to 'get me', to quote lovely Debbie BLONDIE Harry, “One way or another”, or put in coded but not digicode form, “Girl I'll Tell You Anything”. Hey gimme' a fucking bwake willya' Mizz Margie Leo from 1985 @ Caldor Department Store? I mean I just ran away from her best friend back at 1801 underneath me in that apartment, that Playboy Bunny, and moved into the rental home at 134 Norris Avenue in Atco, New Jersey, where I then went onto do that song along with a dozen others on a musical project that is numbered Pau-Non Paula King, with some quite interesting other numbers, may I also add in here without being thought of as too crazy by Dock Huang or however that SVU dude spells his name, pronounced as WONG. I say, Mizz Olivia Benson Arliss Hollister, add a 'R' letter to WONG, as he most definitely is wrong in my books. Nobody will ever convince me that denying synchronicity is a mentally healthy piece of psych advice!!!!!!! So a big fat WEEEEEEEEEEE for Sir Chester-Frank, yo! Gee whiz, it is 6:17 and the fire ladder has arrived here and has deactivated the fire alarm. To quote a lovely waitress from the great Sugar Hill Eats in Harlem, NYC, guys; “THANK-UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU”. Please don't puke it up now pretty Gab. TANKS!

“Okay the name of this song is don't 'EF' around with magnetics”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Help Search His tory Titles Start Over

Save, Print and Email (Help Page)
Records	Select Format:
All on Page Selected On Page Selected all Pages	Enter your email address:

Search for:

Search by:

Item type:

Help Search History Titles Start Over

[ 13 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Saga of song writer Mark Mud.

PAu000501582

1983

[ 18 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

What's wrong?

PAu000724407

1984

Where are the real three stooges here folks, as in Chris Blum, Doctor Nothisproblem, and James Redfield, when you need them; Mister Randy Vanwarmer, sir? Great song dude!!!!!!

'WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW', I LOST 75 POUNDS, Mizz O.W.

When I arrived in Florida, I weighed 285 pounds, lovely Oprah Winfrey, if you must know; and I weighed in last night at 210 pounds. Thank you for your postcard in '88. Your gal pal doesn't remember squat about Purgatory next to what I do, just in case you may be remotely interested, lovely lady!!!!!!!!

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

I am losing an average of just over eight pounds per year and my advice to people looking to loose weight, from lovely Sarah Ferguson to the Queen of the Denile Dock WONG-WRONG APA CLUB, is just let it happen as with all great things done with the HALLS FAWCES, through never ending and relentless continuous gradualism, yo! Hey, this is my opinion, oh lovely 'AMC' MIZZ SLEK, BUTT, thisssssssssssssss still is my opinion, and the lovely Mizz Mashell Daniels of RPL SOUND STUDIOS has entitled me to it back in the summer time of the year 1980, & my Cooper Hospital “COWORKER”. The curse of looking younger than my years never ceases to amaze me, 'EVEN NOW' in these cold gray days of NON-DORIAN and non DECEMBER, 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 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 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 yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yessir, at this rate, by the time I am seventy, I will be weighing in at approximately 165 pounds, where I was after leaving the illustrious fucking COOLEY HH HALL! Imagine thisssssssssssssss, Bob McDowell, retired Chairman of the FCC, and me' ol' school chum pal from Dan Mackey's and Mildred young's great classes of special education for us wonderful exceptional kids, not clueless weird-chord HAHA Icabod Crane kids of lovely 1981 Mizz Kim Wilde!!!!!!!!!! No folks, don't try losing weight real fast, in true and real life, that works for about five percent or less who try braving through that nuclear bombshell, yo. IPYT. Everything done in moderation and with gradualism, me' wonderful BROS out here, and SIS's too!

As for the second of me' ol' two pointed blog for today, it is about the YYYYYYYYYYYYY's of my endless and unrelenting persecution by these diseased sicko MILITUFAWCES. Let us explore this with all lovely Joann's and Rhonda's all over the place. When I stopped blogging for two and a half years, some were amazed that the persecution kept right on going. Hey numb skulls, it was there long before Christopher Bennett ever put me onto bogging back at the end of 2005 leading to my January of 2006 Morianity 'EOH' blogs beginning. Some thought that gee whiz BRAHHHHHH, it seems the forces want me to get up here and say all sorts of wild shit to maybe give them ideas for making their billions, such as that example comment I shared back at the start of this blog, when that person said on a comment, that my blog was the blog that was making them a whole lot of fucking money out in Cali, quote end of quote. Some think the forces want to learn stuff, and so they pound me so I will get up and do real doozie blogs. Some think that and some think it is about the money, and some think other things and on and on we can go, while we explore this with all lovely Rhonda's, evening the fantastic wrestling ones. Well rather than bore anyone or waste time, the simple truth is that none of this is true. Only these sicko gods playing their sicko games explains this shit around me, and nothing else in the world does, NOT EVEN MOTHER FUCKING CHRISTIANITY, and that is just reality son, Mister Dennis Snyder yo. The shit going on around me does not change and it endlessly mother fucking continues. Even on deaths door, it stays exactly the same, and yes, I HAVE DIED OVER AND OVER AGAIN, and I doubt seriously that dying soon again, is going to allow my escape. I said this before and I reiterate again now, for everyone else, it appears that DEATH swallows up their HELL eventually. For me however, HELL seems to have somehow magically swallowed up my DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Study scripture, as it talks about some powerful shit just like this, and yes lovely Erica of All My Kids, just like 'thisssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss' too, sweetie pie, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW.

No folks, the fawces have no particular or discernable rhyme nor reason for many things that they do, especially around me and my life. I WOULD LOVE TO GIVE YOU MORE ANSWERS. I WOULD FUCKING LOVE TO GIVE ME MORE ANSWERS. IF I EVEN CAN, BELIEVE ME PEEPS, I GODDAMN WILL, YO!!!!

***ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES***

This blog is to tell you that I live in a hellhole of rodents, roaches, blaring fire alarms, drug whacked nabes, and zillions of unpleasant and extremely unsanitary conditions that are absolutely sub human and sub standard, and only in this messed up Trump Wealthy Wall Street Nation would these things ever be allowed to go on like this, totally unchallenged, decade after decade and miserable mother fucking decade!!!!!!!!!!!!! This and the two points about how lives are changed by those around us and many times by a very small few, and also about the fact that no one will ever be able to get to the bottom of what is being done around me by this diseased filthy subskummite MILITUFORCE. If the country doesn't wake up out of this totally fucking wesley Crusher TNG STAR TREK SICKO GASME GAME, and damn soon, and come to their senses and elect Senator Sanders as President #46, then here is my promise to you within ten years, three fucking things, watch them all come true, in mother fucking spaces folks!!!!

First, the planet will become unlivable without aides for our grandchildren for these climate denying assholes. Second, anyone with a net worth of under a hundred thousand bucks will have lives as bad as mine or almost, and within fifteen years. Third, your chances of being the victim of a GUN CRIME unless you stay a total shut in, will be approximately one in one hundred, every single quarter century. That is every single man, woman, and child in good old “HAHAHA ICABOD WHO CRANE DONNIE BOY GUN LOVER, the U.S.A. AND AS I SAID, MARK THIS DOWN, AND SEE IF YOU CAN PROVE THE MOUNTAINPEN FUCKING WRONG. YOU JUST GO RIGHT AHEAD; IGNORANT DAMN FOOLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now for a very interesting CAP job folks:

READ THE AFTER CAP JOB TOO, YO!!!!

GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 19

It is a very strange feeling to know that you died and went to hell. No one on Earth will believe you, so if it should ever happen to anyone else, may the gods take pity, although that is doubtful. They sure as shit sugar take none on me. I was just in a parallel world with my father, who was acting strangely even for him. It involved some DVD movies, an area in Philadelphia that does not exist here in this world, and I don't think those particular movies exist in that one either, and I'll come to that in a minute, as it is major. It also involved a couple of very strange extremely overweight women that my dad seemed to know from the area there, and it involved my telephone, as well as the video store where I was trying to purchase those movies. First off, here in this waking world, I have a list printed up, or had one, on my word program documents. It appears to have mysteriously vanished, as I know that it can be in one of two places, the most recent NOTES PAGE, or the PERSONAL PHONEBOOK PAGE. However, after carefully checking those two pages, it is not there. I remembered wanting to get these movies from being me here, and although I was inside my double over there who was making the purchase, I decided to take over my double and become a T3E. I wanted to try and make him purchase these half dozen movies on my list. He had already begun to strike up a conversation with some dude who was employed at this local area video store, that was not a large chain. As I was about to tell him what I was looking to buy, only one movie came to mind, and my mind was totally blanked out concerning the others. I have come to realize that these movies don't exist over there, so when you lose memory of something that over here you would have a clear memory to, a gap-out or block-out, as has happened to me here as you all know; then this is when it could very well be being caused by a T3E indwelling inside of you and trying to take you over to have you do or not do something. It seems this is how it works. If you try and make your doppelganger buy a movie that never was made there in a parallel universe, he or she by merely being physically attached to their own universe, will try desperately to reason out what they are doing, and this causes you to have your own memories of it while there, blocked and gapped out as well. As I speak at 56 minutes past 11 on Saturday morning, 26 December of 2015, I am getting a fucking right side death angel attack. As for the telephone, my father was trying to do something questionable with my landline telephone, at the behest of these two huge lady friends, who he seemed to know from where we all were living, in some very high hilly area of Philadelphia; and it was not in the Roxboro section. The phone was the old square desk landline phone, with button tone dialing, and was white. Somehow in this parallel world, I had some weird cellphone with me at the video-store, that was just two blocks away from our place; and I was being given the warning signal, or my double was. I noticed that when I could not tell what I wanted, the employee had gone back into a store room area; so I just left and rushed up a hill, and back to my residence. when I saw what was going on, my double freaked out, and I was not in control, and just continued in the experience, observing the events there, as a TYPE-1-EXPLORATRON (T-1-E). This annoying mother fucking SPACING-HACK is cunt lapping murder; FCC Bob McDowell, FBI, and ACLU, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Anyway, moving on, I watched my double take the white telephone and do something to some connecting bunch of wires, that caused whatever my father had done, to become totally deactivated. Then I flipped and yelled, and sat down, and began staring up at the ceiling. This is when the two ladies walked in and just stood there near to where my father was still standing, also real pissed off. I began cursing out GOD, really badly. You know, the old spiel of all of the shit that is happening and wrong is GOD'S fault, and I was using horrible and disgusting swear words. When I had finished, I got up and began walking out onto my porch, and the ladies followed me out and began under their breath, saying all sorts of rebuking crap to me, and I got mad, and called them, ''fat old meddling fools'', and told them to get away from me. Then the black one, as one was white and one was black, and they had to weigh at least 350 pounds each; grabbed me and threw me about eight feet and I tumbled and rolled off of my porch, and onto the sidewalks of the Philadelphia streets. My head banged into a telephone poll and when I stood up, I was dizzy and fell back down. This is when the white lady grabbed me and lifted me up in front of her by my arms, with such force, that I thought my poor flabby arms were going to literally implode. Then she walked me up the street to her house about three down from mine, took me inside, and smacked me around, knocking me into all kinds of lamps, and just like in the dam movies, I heard glass shattering real loud as I kept continually flying into furniture objects, over and over. After about two minutes, she grabbed one of my arms super tight again and pushed me right into a thin wall that seemed to separate the house from a tiny one car garage, and I went went through the partition and struck an automobile that was parked inside of this garage, so hard; that I remember feeling my entire hip breaking. I tried to limp towards the open garage door that led out to the street, but I fell down, and then she began kicking me in the head, and in my ribs, breaking my ribs, and making me cough up blood. I tried to escape the horrible fate of my doppelganger at this point, and kept telling myself that I am in a parallel universe, and need to completely leave there. Instead however; I found myself eight blocks away, down this long city hill of small row type homes that Philadelphia is so known for, and I seemed to be totally OK and 'uninjured', to quote Mister Star Trek Spock. A beautiful young girl of twenty give or take a year or so was right there, and she seemed to know me from that parallel. We talked as we began walking back up the hill, and she told me that my father would end up wiping out my life if I don't find a way to either move far away or else have him arrested, as over there, he had a serious criminal record, and I later learned from her, that this towel-seepage was somehow connected to why the FBI wanted to talk to him back in the days when my mom was told to come into their Philadelphia offices, for some questioning upon several occasions, as told about on several previous blogging texts. Further details to all of this can wait for still other future blogs, but I did come to learn that this was the same girl who I used to like a lot back in the City Center School, on 20^th And Chestnut Streets, when I there, back in the days of the Kennedy assassination. Her name was Esther Pinkston. She was a white hot jet black lovely goddess, even at age nine, and I remember even back then, wanting to hold her and kiss her, and if I had been a couple of years older, I know I would have been out of my skull wanting to hit that, as they say! Time in parallel worlds does not need to make sense and be in some equally running continuum. In this world, Esther Pinkston would be my age, around age 61, yet over there, I was about fifteen years younger, mid fortyish, yet she was less than half my dam age at maybe 20. My mom was totally out of the picture in this parallel world, also. More about this wild 25-TRIP, Mister Marcucci, Beatles, and others; can wait for later on, BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DECEMBER 26, 2015,

EARLY ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON AT 12:28,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS 80 DEGREES FNHT.

RANGE TODAY-------(H-81/L-72).

PREDICTED HIGH TODAY IS 82,

ALONG WITH CONSIDERABLE CLOUDINESS.

RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS 79%, AND IT FEELS LIKE 85.

WIND IS ESE AT 17, GUSTING TO 27.

TOTAL RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES-0.

TITLE NAMES RE-SPELLED CORRECTLY FROM © WEB-SITE:

[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitome of harassment pt. 2.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitome of harassment pt. 3.	PAu001189027	1989

The U. S. Copyright Office has the copy of this, on a cassette tape, from 1988 and 1989.

Peeps; I only report the news, I don't make it.

Having the Exploratronic Supermind Society personally working against you and your life since birth, and connected into your entire family as well, as James T. Burr seemed to totally know about way back in the middle nineteen-seventies; is, to quote the Amazon giants of all types, totally soul crushing. I wish the mighty fucking MUFON people would try and assist me, and render some aid to a dying pathetic and pitiful dam dude!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!