NUMDWATATES
NOTE H3
8:49
ANTE'
MERIDIAN
MONDAY
MORNING
28
OCTOBER, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
MOUNTAINPEN'S
LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:
MONDAY,
OCTOBER 28, 2019
CURRENT
PHASE IS: WAXING CRESCENT 1:7
N.M.
WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q.
WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6 WXG7 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6
L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 N.M.
MOUNTAINPEN'S
WEEKLY SECRET SCALES THERMOMETER/BAROMETER:
Week
*****************************************l******
Week
ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-22-19
e
Week ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-15-19
Week
*******************************************l****
Week
ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-22-19
Mark
Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr
©
2006-2019, 'BOM' (Blogs
Of Mountainpen)
ANY
PASTED IN POSTS WITH OWNER ©'s ON THEM, ARE THE SOLE PROPERTY OF THE
CLAIMANT, AND WILL BE REMOVED UPON RECEIVING NOTICE TO DO SO.
NEXT
WEEKS' REDLINE COULD HIT THE NEXT HIGHER RED STAR, YO!!!!!!!!
PLEASE
TAKE THIS AS THE WARNING IT IS MEANT TO BE, PEEPS!
THE
GLOBAL ENLIGHTENMENT OF MORIANITY.
THE
RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM THREE
I
need no Halloween-Blues, HA-HA-WHO'S,
or Burning Fires or bushes, to tell me
that I am back on a roll, and have been for years now really; of
having EXTREMELY HORRIBLE NIGHTMARES,
and very poor sleep, when I so desperately fucking need to sleep
well at my old age, and after all of the shit that I've fucking had
to suffer through for nearly sixty-five years on this blueish-white
snotty ball of puke-hurl called the Earth-Planet!
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Mohr,
Mark W., 1954-
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PAu000325091
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1981
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If
I'm not with Steve of Patty in Philly or up on that 'damn' island
that Sir Woodie sang about some time back after walking clear back
east from the redwood forests, or I'm in rotten Atlantic City or
some parallel that is quite distant and nearly unrecognizable. Or
sometimes, it seems that I am in the area of the great elusive
non-butterfly mysterious throat specialist's office just off of
Grant Avenue near Interstate-95, in Northeast-Philadelphia. However,
upon occasion, I find myself in even weirder places such as on the
ASTRAL-PLANE near DOGTOWN, or in all sorts of trouble with legal
authorities and heading for jail. To put it mildly, whether awake or
asleep, I seem to be in absolute torment, and what can only be
mortally described as DOGTOWN ON EARTH, although to be quite frank
with all of you out here, yo, DOGTOWN is so horrible that I could
sit here typing for millions of years and never even come fucking
close to actually being able to truly describe its horrors, right
down to the very epitome of terror on an unimaginable scale, as on
the spiritual plane, regular normal human emotion appears to be, as
are so many things there, major ass amplified; just as if a tiny
transistor radio receiver was being fed into a city stadium stage
sound concert audio system, for a nineties heavy metal band to
perform with. I make absolutely no exaggeration here, and if
anything, multiply that truth by a damn thousand or more, BRO! Hey,
I know, and I've seen, as in the old expression you all have heard,
“Been there, done that”!
In
the middle eighties as you all know, my nightmares all began to
increase in that same way. An already rotten life was suddenly as if
that was merely a tiny transistor radio and then poof, suddenly
without any warning whatsoever yo, it was magically hooked up to
powerful thousand watt amps as far as the eye can see, and what was
already rotten to the core became the quintessential nightmare of
inconceivable horror, terror, and fright, that would make even the
great Zuudlow Beetlejuice go mad fart sniffing totally mad at light
speed squared! Still, they all were watching and listening to me,
huh “OTHER SJK” non-GODDESS-ALMIGHTY?????? The last laugh that I
was planning never happened to them as I hoped that it would before
I DIED AND WENT TO DOGTOWN IN AUGUST OF 1986, MISTER ICABOD CRANE,
and Arthur too I suppose. No sir folks, it HAPPENED TO ME, right
there at the Power-Test
Gasoline
Station,
just down the block from all lovely BLONDIE HARRY 1801 apartment
dwelling darlings, who ALREADY KNEW IT ALL; huh wonderful awesome
gorgeous Patricia H. H. Hollister, and yes Microsoft Sir, Patty
Hollistertober fits so perfectly here as well, me' ol' BRAHHHH!!!! I
may have thought that I had all the answers and knew what shit was
all about, huh wonderful Congressman Andrews of 'HH', NJUSAESMWH,
wow those 'cymbals' and 'symbols' are deafening me these days Sir
Jimmy Redfield Peru, as in Haddon Heights Hollister-Howard, but
still wonderful Lenny (L&O's great Detective Briscoe), the HH
here was for the small town in Southeastern NO JOYSEY, known as
Haddon Heights, where the Congressman grew up in a nice home right
behind and to the south of the world famous by now thanks to the
Mountainpen's BLOGS, ROUTE-30,
AKA the WHITE
HORSE PIKE, YO!
Yeppir, I truly and verily found out that it was certainly NAUT FUN,
and that the last laugh was most definitely on me, huh school chum
Russ Thx? Power tests and telling everything to Pink Goddess, gimme'
a mother fucking bwake, willya' Mizz Margie 1985 Leo from the Caldor
#113 Department Store of Woodbury Heights, NJUSAESMWG!
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu001148157
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1988
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Mohr,
Mark Wayne, 1954-
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PAu001189027
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1989
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Records
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