The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment": NUMDWATATES NOTE I3

NUMDWATATES NOTE I3

4:07 POST MERIDIAN

MONDAY AFTERNOON

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

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Week ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-22-19

e Week ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-15-19

Week

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Week ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-22-19

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

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!

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Live Camera from a random camera within the United States

THE GLOBAL ENLIGHTENMENT OF MORIANITY.

THE RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM THREE

Something happened today that has not been the case with me since early in the year of 1978. I am no longer OVER 200 POUNDS. I just weighed in buck ass naked at 199 POUNDS, and I have not been in the one hundreds since winter time of 1978. At the rate I am losing weight now, I will be at a perfect height-weight ratio before I am out of my sixties, and although I am losing slow but steady weight, this way is the best way to do it, as there is no desire to ever binge eat or compensate for weeks of under eating food. So a big skinny WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE for all lovely Marie Osman's everywhere, in or out of Utah, huh Elder Hair and Misses Hair of 1998????????????????? 'WOW' OPRAH!!!!!

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INTERNATIONAL POPULARITY, OR LACK THEREOF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Somewhere in the limitless, vast, and quite HUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE fifth dimensional hyperspace, it is always now the final week in Hollistertober!!!!!!!!!!!

LINKS TO MY ORIGINAL 2006 N.J. BLOGS:

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

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Oct 18, 2019 9:00 AM – Oct 25, 2019 8:00 AM

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here is where shit gets really GOUUUUUUD, to quote my girlfriend Helen Zebriski, back in 1999, when she was referring to my huge fracture bruise, on my right dam arm, after her friend Keisha, the girl who had just turned age 14 years, and was quite a giant and extremely muscular, as well as red hot beyond monster ass hot; had given me a really mind bending play-punch, that you could hear both the bone crushing fracture sound, as well as the unholy 'loud poof sound', and Helen then went onto say later on, while looking at the huge spot on my arm; “Oh Mark, she got you GOUUUUUUUUUUD”!!!!!!!! Well it will get good now people, so believe that. Missing time seems to interest many UFOLOGY-BUFFS around the world, as it does the government authorities, and most definitely, the MILITUFORCE! Quakertown was an area in PENNSYLVANIA where I lived with my parents back as a child of between six and nearly eight years of age, when I then left for where else, but wonderful ATLANTIC CITY? Still, let us stick to the Quakertown, Pennsylvania, USAESMWG area for right now, Professor Michio Kaku, Mister David Childress, as well as Sir VanDaniken, author of the great book from the sixties called, “Chariots Of The Gods”. I know that I blogged what I am going to talk about now on a few early blogs from the first two years of them, 2006 and 2007, but I never connected up the missing time to UFOLOGY, the linchpin of this Earth-Groupation of human mortals who are utterly fascinated with this topic. Now we will go on and do just that.

I was attending the Richland Grammar School of Quakertown, and was in the class of a lady approaching retirement age as I am now, by the name of Misses Diets. I was outside with a bunch of other children in my grade, 2^nd grade, and it was recess time. Suddenly in an instant, I was just by myself standing there, and everyone else had totally vanished away; Sheriff Ken Mascara, kind sir and yes, I will gladly take ten poly tests where you may question me on any of these claims made on these blogs, kind sir. Remember too that this is where I was living at the first of two mobile home trailers, and this one was on top of a large hill underneath a tall fully grown apple tree, in a small clearing that was literally cut out in the middle of a 'cornfield', and the only thing missing was young Mister Costner and audible voices, only that came at two nearby places and was associated with actual visible children, although I do not think that they would have been company for anyone outside of Mister Beetlejuice or perhaps Mizz lovely Jennifer Love Hewett. This is also where lightning came to me many times, both while awake, and while dreaming; and was always close to me and around me. But sticking with one particular day at the Richland Grammar School, where several oddball things happened to me, including being accused by the entire class of acting up badly on the school bus when I had never done any such thing at all. Still, on with this other point, as we can only take things one at a time, and this pertains to MISSING-TIME. The enemies are hitting me with that nasty annoying damn “SPACE-BAR-HACK” again, Sheriff Ken Mascara, sir. So there I was all of a sudden, standing there where ten seconds earlier, my teacher, and thirty of my 2^nd grade classmates were all right there as well. I heard voices in the distance and walked towards them where it was the rear area of the school, and there was a merry-go-round and a swing set, and I kept walking in the direction of these voices. When I got to where the sound was emanating from, I saw my classmates and Misses Diets on the merry-go-round. When I arrived, she asked me if I had decided to join the class. I had come to learn later on that about twenty minutes had vanished totally away somehow. This is due to the fact that after just a few minutes, recess was over and Misses Diets walked us all back into the classroom. Somehow about a third of an hour had just poofed away. I have no memory of being anywhere, but I obviously HAD BEEN TAKEN SOMEWHERE. To me, it was just seconds later and everyone had vanished like a Harry Potter magical Hollister stunt. Bear in mind that I did not come to know the lovely Patricia H. H. Hollister for approximately another seven years when she came from New York to Atlantic City on a vacation, and yes, she seemed to know Ziggy and his beach bum pals, Helen Felkner, Adele Daugherty, and her hubby Arthur. These things all happened, and they are real, KIND SHERIFF, SIR, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!

HA-HA-HA, not-WHO JANE; you missed me that time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Better luck next time, muscle-girl! You had a great dad, and he seemed to be a part of the HISTORICAL SECTION of the great ESS, as in that really fantastic movie, called “12 Angry Men”, there was a definite weird and wild “HISTORY-MARKER”, as Morianity labels this phenomenon, yo!!!!!!!!! So WEEEEEEEEEE!

Who out here has ever tried hard to “WAKE UP” from being in a powerful out of body dreaming experience, and found out that you are not able to do this and that some FAWCE is actually preventing you from leaving that experience at that exact moment IN TIME? Who remembers this little blog entry from half a decade ago? Now back to the door here at my apartment, and at this Public Housing Building, known locally around town here, as the PARK TERRACE. There were about three maintenance peeps, and one just entered without saying a word, and then once inside, he turned back to me, barely able to stand up and keep my eyes open which I have a totally major distinct recollection of now once the memories all returned after watching that part of that GUNSMOKE TV-SHOW, and as he turned, he jabbed me with a hypodermic needle, and then I completely passed out and remember him catching me, picking me up, and placing me onto my bed. Then I somehow knew all of them were inside my place, and I could hear on some level of awareness, them all speaking to each other for quite some time. I was not however able to get any actual gist of what the conversation was all about, or why they had done this to me, in the first place.

The harder I tried to wake myself up, the more energy I seemed to be expending, and causing me the very opposite effect to what I was attempting to accomplish. Then poof, no busted arm from gorgeous young teen girls, BUTTTTTTT I was completely asleep, only I was anything but, and found myself in Cooley Hall, back just a day or two before the Christmas vacation break of 1972, and a month before my final days there, in late January of 1973. I was in the coaches locker area in the gymnasium there, and I seemed to be forced to walk into his secret closet area, and use his D.E. Device that I used to dream about was in there, ever since the nineteen-seventies came in. I activated it with a big square red knob that I pushed instinctively. Suddenly I saw two horizontal bright black lines in front of me, one at my toes, and the other about thirty inches beyond my toes, but parallel to the first line, and these lines were about three feet or maybe a little bit more in width and about an inch thick, both in height dimension as well as out. A voice told me to jump across from the first line to the second line, and the command kept repeating, and growing louder until I eventually did just that. Instantly I found myself in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Jerry Heitzmann my old pal from Cooley Hall was with me, and it was now a year earlier, in 1971 and back in the middle summer time, somewhere early in July. He didn't actually arrive until I got onto Tennessee Avenue. I was taken directly to the upstairs rooms of Sarah Krassle's shop, by this D. E. system, in the coaches locker area, (Distance-Elimination). It somehow places a magnetic field of controlled velocitrons and zeetrons that are smaller than plank reality and yet larger than the void infinity, and that are responsible for the dreaming out and away from that void into the plank,and then into hyperspace. Ever since I began typing this blog, just about, MY FUCKIGN NABES FROM HELL, have not stopped slamming doors out in th edam fucking hallway, MIZZ MARATTO, Resident Manager, YO! Obviously, as the great game of GTNOTG indeed dictates, one must realize that explorations are not only inside of my computer machine system,but then they try and discourage me from typing and doing these blogs, whenever I discuss certain MAJESTIC LEVEL TOP SECRET INFORMATION STUFF; and so they enter into my nabes from fucking hell, and make them slam and slam and slam and slam, kind SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now, after Jerry was spotted; I then came to realize in the experience, that I was blocking another huge fuckiGN memory, and this is what these TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONIC indwelt nabes, and now successfully GUESSED-GUESTS; are trying to interfere, and prevent, me from telling about and blogging this wild information.

Before I tell the experience here, kind people; you need to understand that I really had this happen to me, and I had forgotten it. I had been assaulted, and so had poor Jerry Heitzmann; by the great PAULA-PATTY KING; and I had just assumed for a short while, before blocking out the entire memory all together; that those two boys who looked similar to classmates that I had back at Cooley Hall, in David Leigh Smith's class, Harry Vogel and Eddie Boemeister; that Jerry and I had encountered a short time earlier on the boardwalk, about a quarter mile or less south of Tennessee Avenue, were the ones who had knocked us around. It wasn't. It was big PP-KING. She busted some teeth in Jerry's mouth, and hit me so hard that my mind and brain had been effected, and my memories were jumbled and lost, all this time, from 1971 in July, until this very early day here on December the fifteenth, in 2015. There is a lot more to tell, as it involves a lot of powerful known people, and now it no longer is a mystery how the WAYV radio people all know Mister Regis Philbin, as he is also a lot more than he purports to be, whether he even knows or remembers being an active engaging part of this or not, when he is not indwelt; and not a part of of the GUESSED-GUESTS, of the great unholy and evil Briggbase-controlled and operated, EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY!!!!!

You know for all I care, you can imprison me in some huge scary fucking looking lighthouse, or your dam water company, oh great pink goddess on Earth; BUTTTTTTTTT, I'll always love you to death, my white-hot teen queen Jehovah, no matter what you keep doing to your poor old defenseless little helpless pathetic THAT-BOY, YO!

I have a lot of better and more pleasurable things to doin this human mortal waking life here on this Earth-Planet, than to sit around here making up rediculous non Katy-Queen stories day and night to post online and appear to be the quintessential asshole fool, as a direct mother loving result, BRO!!!!!!!! I am TELLING ONLY POWERFUL TRUE THINGS HERE FOLKS. Guess who is back and annoying the living fucking dogshit out of me lately AGAIN? GOOD OL' DEATH-ANGEL SIR MORTIMER MORTINO. This prick is driving me totally fucking loony-tunes!!!!!

That night, watching those Star Trek shows, while living at 112 Harvard Avenue, Somerdale, New Jersey, USA, Earth, Sol, Milky Way Galaxy, in 1996, in the autumn on the 30^th Anniversary of their TELEVISION SHOW PRODUCTION LAUNCH; memories flooded in that I could not handle, leading to the wild dreams the following year of the Publishing Clearinghouse's PCN-231 PRIZE-PATROL truck with that co-ed named K. J. McAllister, who won that January of 1997; and then the wild song that led to the 2012 production and 2013 Copyright of ''Wanna' Spend My Time'', the fence at Eden's great garden, and a lot more. This is when I was looking nearby the television set, little as it may have been mizz Britney Lavino, and Mister Stanley Crooked Bernstein; and as that great voted-number-1 episode of STAR TREK was airing, suddenly a voice kept saying while I was staring off of the TV set and onto my venetian blinds, “Sarah Kessle, Sarah Kessle”. All of these things are on my earlier parts of this now freaking ass ten year blog project that we all know as 'MORIANITY', YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Later on, we can get to how the venetian blinds, the episode on the show called, ''THE TROUBLE WITH TRIBBLES'', and a bit more, all brought me parsecs ahead of where I would have been ''spiritually'', if these events were not all LAWTRONICALLY PROGRAMMED to happen, and so, they did, Mister Pharaoh of all babbling's, on and on and on; AKA Babylon, for shorter and abridged sayings, and codings, of all wild strange rhyming rhythms, in all parallel universes everywhere in the multiversal hyperspace, AKA the fifth dimension, Mizz Marilyn McCoo, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am thinking about mother fucking running far away to Alaska very soon, since I have totally mother fucking had it here, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEE!

NAUT IN BOSTON, BUT RATHER FORT PIERCE:

DECEMBER 16, 2015,

EARLY WEDNESDAY MORNING AT 12:22,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 74 DEGREES FNHT.

TEMPERATURE RANGE YESTERDAY-------(H-84/L-64).

RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS 91%, AND IT FEELS LIKE 78.

WIND IS SE AT 5, WITH GUSTS TO 10.

TOTAL RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---0.

Well today went up to 88 and is down to about 86 as of the time this blog was started up. It is predicted to be above normal temperature for the next number of days and well into the eleventh Jane Fonda month of good ol' NOVEMBER. Watch out Doctor Lockner Flint Rhytalin of the great TWILIGHT ZONE TV SHOW. Yessir, it's damn November, NAUT JULY. Still a tricky month, to quote lovely gorgeous Monique? WOW to all of this, Sir James Redfield, yo, super ass wow to all of it, yo!!!! I personally think that JULY is a lot trickier, or at least WAY MORE SPECIAL, lovely muscle-girl! LIKE-WOW!

Arthur Huntington, hung himself in a basement of his home, after murdering his wife and mother in law quite brutally with an ax, in their sleep. What a damn ass LOVELY FAMILY I HAVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 'JEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE' IF YOU PLEASE!!!!

This applies to many other great Pennsy towns, Detective Fontanna, but I love watching your show and you are far better than Bob Stack, IMHO SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAAAHA-AHA-AHA, MISTER 1971 MCNY!

Professor Michio Kaku, of NYU, up there in the great state of New York, and all empires; if anyone gets this message to you, it will possibly lead to a true advancement in humankind over significant time, and I know this to be a fact, because of my own personal dam life's experiences, sir. The study of the mind and its so-called illnesses is very valid on its face, despite having some powerful side effects to its main effect, as do all things when playing around with curing and treatment problems of the mind and the body. My quick point here, is that if you open up any book on the topic of psychology/psychiatry, you will see that if a patient were to tell his doctor anything about Quantum Physics, that patient will be exhibiting numerous psychosis's and psychotic features; and there is no way that I am telling anything untrue here. I am giving it to you straight. You can prove it for yourself, Professor. But we both know that there are things that, despite people like me saying they are real, causes us to be labeled insane and crazy, and maybe some politer words. What you guys in the world of Quantum dynamics and Theoretical Physics need to do, is somehow have a third-party merge group, a combination and collusion of both you quantum guys and gals, with those familiar with psychiatry. This is a must, in order to truly help not only a lot of mentally needy people, in this nation, and around this globe, but it is vital in order to stop many things, or even to put a small dent into things, such as America's very recent parabolicly exploding crime wave and gun violence. Take fucking me for a prime terrific example here. No one into quantum dynamic truths can tell me, that these ten years that I have been blogging my now 61 year old story as the current me-life Mark Wayne Mountainpen Mohr, is not REAL. Psych doctors will say that to me in a heartbeat however, and try to medicate me with tropic drugs that would fuck me up twenty times worse, and they cannot help people like me at all, many who eventually snap, and then pow, bang bang bang, a place gets all shot up. Even when I beg for help on blogs for ten straight years, I am ignored, sneered and jeered at, mocked, and figuratively spat upon by the world. Not one honest intelligent investigator can tell me I don't have a real honest major story. They cannot deny my claims and my life. But even when letters are written to top people from these fairly important folks in their own right, they go ignored and unanswered, be it the letter to the Admiral by Congressman Andrew's assistant's, be it Ron Wirtz Senior at the Camden County Prosecutor's Office trying to secure some real help for me, and this list could be typed on for hours on end, I promise you all. What needs to happen in all cases, is that experts must come together, study, and eventually agree on things, or else, forget it; just like if I tried to prove ICPE-APE-TECH in a court of law, and how Trump has used this against me, to catapult his life into what it is today, by a magical force that no one could ever fucking truly deny, yet I would not be legally permitted to introduce unaccepted by experts, evidence; such as this technology, and how it indeed is used against me, and probably even now; many others also, who are blinded by present day blissful willful ignorance!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So my point here, Professor Kaku, from someone who appreciates your mind and intellect, and is one of your biggest fans from cable TV channels such as Science and History, and others; Public Broadcast, and on and on; is that only you will recognize my valid point here sir. Their needs to be a colluded group of a new discipline here, half psychiatric and half quantum physicist scientists. If this group, call them whatever you like, could ever gain expert status, I KNOW BEYOND ANY DOUBT, that I would be able to have a total cure in my life and its invisible cosmic problems that surround me, and are not some mentally ill delusion! Another problem however is the establishment, and the protection of the BIG SHOTS. I believe secretly for many reasons private to me, and between us; that the late disco diva Donna Summer, knew a little bit about these things, and I refuse to discuss this, unless someone wants to really help in all of this; but she called this, the “Mister Big Shot Syndrome”. You don't need to know any more for right now, not you Professor, and not anyone reading these blogs. If I thought you needed to know, I'd damn tell. But yes, to make my point, in her MBS-SYNDROME idea, things will be hushed up if people have to KILL YOU, as you and me little peeps are always expendable, and some secrets must be there to protect the BIG SHOTS, which can translate to two items right off the bat, any large celebrity, or any super wealthy person, close to or in the Billionaire bracket!!! No one can alter basic truths such as the NEW-AGE GLOBAL CAPITALISM MACHINE. Ron Reagan started it all, and not Trump will finish it all for all of us pathetic poverty stricken oppressed surfs! No ocean lovers, study your history books. This has absolutely mother fucking nothing whatsoever to do with beaches, surfing, or lovelies in great bikini suits, yo me' BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now, here is the rest of the wild experience that I can remember so far, that I did not blog on my previous fuckiGN blog, kind folks, YO!!!!

Numbers matter. I learned the only bad advice ever given to me, in 1970, by my Cooley Hall teacher at that time, Mister David Blackboards Smith; was when he told me that mathematics is very impersonal. How could he have known about me, in my future? I don't blame him for one strike out in the game, and never ever would I expect a 'perfect-game', in my own personal baseball club, the Morianity-League, if you will, peeps, YO BRAH!!!

© Mark Wayne Mohr 2006-2019

On Blogger since January 2006

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In last night's experience, I had a second less intense, but not that much fucking less, than my first one, sort of a part-2 of 2, and you know only about part 1, should you have read my blog chapter number 33 that preceded this one blog you're now reading. In this experience from super hell, I was driving along some weird New Jersey highway in a parallel universe where this road was extremely unfamiliar with some basic shit that just would never happen here in this universe that I won't bother you with the details about. Just to give you an idea what I mean however, you would never see a rowboat up in a tree, and that made into a home, with Halloween crap all over it twelve months a year, and the words ''tricky-teet-teet'' all over the front porch, painted in human blood, and the local police all there having a cookout and talking about the next crime they are all going to commit. But in some parallel universes, things can get extremely wacky by our standards here in this one. This by no means that they are any less real than this one is, OR, that towel seepage effect cannot indeed occur when back here and awake, as a result of doing certain things OVER THERE!!!!!!! I really loved that casino promotion of the nineteen eighties, following my 153 day I-Ching trip into another Atlantic City parallel world, written about in great detail on my 1994 book, “The Permission Barrier”. Suddenly out of nowhere and after they bugged and illegally took telephone talks between myself and David Roth, there appeared large highway billboards advertising the great HARRAH'S CASINO, calling it, yes you got it; “THE OTHER ATLANTIC CITY”, because it sat on the bay-side as opposed to on the ocean side of the strip.

So here I am on this mother fucking strange highway, in a car I never drove in any world that I have any dam ass conscious recall about, and suddenly, it stopped and died, and I pulled over and realized that I had this problem for quite some time, and normally it would start if I kept trying, but this time it was finished. Along came a tow truck without me doing anything, and I told him where my local mechanic was, and it was someplace up in Jersey, but no place anywhere near resembling anything in this waking world universe, by any close definition, YO. I was suddenly in the front seat of the tow-truck, and the driver had driven me about three miles, and I was at my mechanics place, and yes, it is the same guy who I never ever knew existed, until I saw him in 2008 in that fucked up screwy place, where MC was telling me how much she loved being who she was, but that there was one problem that she wanted to talk to me about, imagine that? Then it was not until around twenty-eleven, when I saw the WFMU web-page with that screwy looking asshole who was supposed to be me, in what I called MY HATE PAGE!

'MOST DEFINITELY'; HUH SCHOOL PAL RUSS?

NO FOLKS, THIS IS MOST CERTAINLY NAUT

MEGAHELL ON STEROIDS, CHAPTER 0000,

but it looks so 'damn' pretty here, Senator Sanders, sir,

that I am going to paste it right in, YO YO YO!!!

What do you think of this story?
Click here for comments or suggestions.

**(((((]]]]]]]]]][[[[[[[[[[)))))**

>>]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]][[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[>>

KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL ® 1980

MARK WAYNE MOHR

PINK GODDESSES

MORNING LIGHTS

DESTRUCT SWITCHES

GARY MITCHELLS

AND CAPTAIN WILLIAM SHATNER KIRKS

Life is ETERNAL HELL when you wake up and find yourself IN EARTH'S-DOGTOWN. That people, IPY!

END TRANSMISSION.

Notes on several previous blogs:

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!

[ 8 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Mohr demo tunes.

PAu000325091

1981

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!

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

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Guess who just FUCKED ME AGAIN, ME' KIND BLOGAUDIANS? Good old stinking dirtbag dependable rotten witch-bitch JANE, whom I most definitely am NAUT at all FOND-A, not one whittle lousy rotten damn ass bit, yo! I must of course 'CUNT-PHLEGM-RAPE' or COMPENSATE now, for her miserable shitty ONES-ATTACK ON ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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

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Well, I can always count on these magical nightmares to 'perpetually. and NAUT 'conceptually' continue and continue and continue, with or without ANY GREAT TELEPHONE CONVERSATIONS, or flashing toy strobelights from Hollisterland!!!!! May I wish you all a vely vely NON-MCDOWELL happy HOLLOW-TEEN this coming THURSDAY and a great big WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE as well! WOW WOW WOW, and just imagine all of mother fucking THAT, me' BRAHHHHHH!!!!!!!

Every once in a while, I remind myself that the world does not view the Mountainpen as any type of celebrity, and therefore, I must keep reminding any potential readers, whoever they might ever be, that I do not mean anyone at all one bit of ill will, UNLESS THEY ARE PART OF A GROUPATION OF GUILTY FOLKS WHO HAVE PARTICIPATED WILLINGLY AND LARGELY IN THE TOTAL DESTRUCTION OF THE LIFE OF MOUNTAINPEN, AKA MARK WAYNE MOHR. Put simply, if you did not do any of the horrible things to me that any of these blogs discuss over the past nearly fourteen damn years now, then I hope you are happy and successful in this life to the maximum degree, and I wish you only the very best, and always will. It would take the mind of a true lunatic to wish evil in any manner on folks who have not done bad things to us. On top of this, I know fully well that even the vast majority of those who are indeed in this groupation of vicious monster peeps who have injured and wiped me out; are not aware of the powers and FAWCES that truly are behind all of this mess. Countless discussions were made between myself and people from my past such as Jim Burr and Dave Roth, regarding this very issue. However, I am a complete damn realist. I know that forces and powers that biblical scriptures refer to as principalities of darkness, and spiritual wickedness, CANNOT BE PROSECUTED IN ANY EARTHLY COURT, nor can they themselves be hurt in any meaningful way, by poor old Mountainpen. These TWO ITEMS NEED OCCASIONAL REPEATING AND REFINING on these BOM (Blogs Of Mountainpen). This, to quote the great Sir Dennis Snyder, “Is just reality, son”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Based on these things spoken now, I also fully realize that 'HALLS FAWCES' biblically referred to as principalities of darkness, and spiritual wickedness in high places, have several large agendas with me, and most likely the hugest of them all is to make a lot of people here on the Earth-planet appear to be GUILTY OF PERSECUTING ME, when in fact, they may not be involved at all. So in some cases, we have the real unholy Trinidad of the 'OTHER-ATLANTIC-CITY', do we naut? So I have three different groups. First, I have those who indeed are wiping out my pitiful life, and then I have the groupation who are being magically 'spiritually framed' in this crime against humanity, and then I have the influenced groupation that merely is told to do and say certain things, without any real evil being behind what they did, because they were every bit as much forced to carry out their invisible mission, just as I was, WHEN I WAS FORCED TO GO TO A POST OFFICE ON THREE SEPARATE DATES; IN 1994, 2005, AND 2007; AND MAIL MUSICAL PROJECTS TO THE © OFFICE, without a choice, as if I was under some mysterious and completely inconceivable hypnotic spell or controlled trance. I do not know just what powers and abilities the mighty MILITUFORCE actually has, and just how close we are now on this planet, to true TELLOSIAN MIND CONTROL, but even the now post-executed Mister Timothy McVeigh said that he truly believed he was given some microchip physically delivered into his body that rendered him powerless to fight what he did when he blew up that Oklahoma government office building back in the middle nineteen-nineties. Again, none of my 14-year long blogs are here to slander or injure anyone or anything, UNLESS THEY ARE INDEED QUITE GUILTY OF UNSPEAKABLE CRIMES AGAINST ALL OF HUMANITY. The Bluebook Project, as well as so many other exposed secrets of the past couple of decades or so, tells me that indeed, the very same thing that caused this world to have the various religious beliefs that it does, is also BEHIND THIS ENTIRE MESS. Somehow, I truly believe a connection is also here, and without any exotic cheeses, Butterfield Pharmacies, Starburn ODI Headquartered Properties in Pennsylvania, ADA Wirtz Senior telling me my problems all stem from Carlisle, Pennsylvania, and Robert McGuire insisting on making his HUUUUUUGE point with me, back on February 7, 1997, at his ERIN BAR in Atlantic City, that the people and family that I was attempting to locate and search out, have roots in Pennsylvania; and then the great 1965 UFO CONNECTED DEAL, just forty miles or so away from the Pittsburgh area in Pennsylvania; to this entire 'PENSSYLVANIA' connection, and guess which of the possible fifty-two states that the MOUNTAINPEN was born in? Gee, could it be in Montgomery County in the town of Bryn Mawr, in good old lovely and illustrious PENNSYLVANIA?????????? All I can know or tell anyone in full truth and accuracy in good conscience, is that a lot of roads all seem to most definitely crisscross into good old wonderful PENNSYLVANIA! Am I incorrect here; oh great Blogaudians?

Who knows,maybe I'll move out to CIA-AGENT John Henningsen's ol' stomping grounds; good-ol' Colorado, the COLOR-ME-RED-STATE! WOW THAT, spoon dancing and land (owning) lovely 'BIG-O'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MIZZ JANE SLEAZEWEEDSDISEASE FONDA CLOCKLOVING TROUBLMAKER JUST GOT AT ME AGAIN, SIR DRAKE AND SIR ED HIMACANE LYNCH. What a damn ass witch!!!

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

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!

Week

************************************************

Week ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-29-19

THIS PHOTON-PROJECTED CALCULATION HAS NOT YET BEEN POSTED UP, ME' PEEPS. STAY-C TUNED!

Who knows,maybe I'll move out to CIA-AGENT John Henningsen's ol' stomping grounds; good-ol' Colorado, the COLOR-ME-RED-STATE! WOW THAT, spoon dancing and land (owning) lovely 'BIG-O'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ 13 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Saga of song writer Mark Mud.

PAu000501582

1983

THE TRUE POWER BEHIND THAT 'ONE SONG', IS IT PROVES SO MANY THINGS!!! Everybody out here knows it too!

Mike did not die, and was only in the horse pistol (hospital) for a week. I cannot get used to another WHEEL-LESS-PAL however. I have given up on his car shituation, as he refused to listen to my great advice months ago, when I told him that his dirt bag mechanic-pal, Manny the Mechanic of Miami, was just screwing with him. I know when someone is being messed with, and I am an expert on this mother fucking subject. I know BECAUSE THIS IS SOMETHING THAT IS QUITE RELATABLE IN MY OWN 'DAMN' LIFE; wonderful and great Senator Sanders, sir! In fact, the precise same shituation happened to me, where a local town mechanic, back in 1986, was told by the township, that if the car was not removed from the lot, it will be towed to the County Yard Impound Center, (CYIC). 'YUK THAT CYIC', and “FUCK THAT SHIT”; to quote by my dad as well as my late father. He refused to listen to me, and tells me that he is tired of people telling him how to handle 'his car woes'. Fine, then he can be a wheel-less mother fucker, to again, quote wonderful latengrate Mizz Dawn-Marie King! And that is now who the illustrious Mister Mike Patterson of Hollywood-Miami, Florida, is. He also refused to listen to me about the mighty marvelous terrific wonderful and awesome President Trump. First he wanted him to win, because like so many for reasons I cannot begin to fucking fathom; he was a 'Hilary-Hater'. Then after he did get in, and he shortly saw some of the truths; he then said that, “He won't last”. First he told me he would go mad, then he said someone would do a no-no on him. Then he had this and that and the other idea, and absolutely insisted that he would be out of office within his first year. I continued to remind him that he has the benefit of a friend with first hand knowledge and experience, and that this would NOT be the case. I told him how everything that man wants, HE GETS, because he is ABSOLUTELY FUCKING MAGICAL. He did nothing but laugh at me, and still to this day, he refuses to give me my rightful props, after a full term now that Trump has been in office, and just as I said it would be. I am used to this. Still, between the two projects letting me down, and this asshole who is 'on my last nerve' now with all of this; to again quote the illustrious Mizz Dawn-Marie King here, I am through with this, and I will not be resigning my Public Housing apartment lease in early March for another year, when 2020 comes. To quote baseball announcer, and radio and TV sports legend, Mister Harry Callas, the also latengrate; “I AM ADDAAAHEREEEE”!!!!!!! I am leaving Florida, leaving ass-wipe Mike, and getting out of this fucking cunt total nightmare mess, once and for all, yo folks!!!! I really do think that ten fucking years is quite long enough to sit in this oven hell of southern misery, and be trapped inside a go nowhere dampening field of hellishness!!!!

I do not know what is truly behind all of these things, but I am not buying that this is all just randomly fucking occurring around me and for that matter, around ALL OF US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So since it is happening, who then is behind this shit? Well, who for that matter is behind what happened to me on August 15, 1986, when I went to bed and woke up the next day INTO SOME UNRECOGNIZALBE BRAND NEW WORLD OF ENDLESSLY CURSED HELLFIRE? Of course there is an answer, and this answer is that the source to what is behind these wild fucking OZ-CURTAINS, comes from the COINS AND COILS of the Astral Plane of existence, AKA the PURGATORY!!!!!!!!!

No matter how hard I fight TO BREAK THE FUCK OUT OF THIS NIGHTMARE ENDLESS HUNTINGTON CURSE, they simply won't cunt chewing let me, and I don't think that this is one bit fair, SENATOR SANDERS, ME' OLD PAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! To quote old Fonty (Detective Fontanna) on the greatest law show ever to be televised ON EARTH, yo, “JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE-LOUIZE”!!!!!!!!

Even great celebrities and powerful politicians, cannot seem to accomplish the two things that the Mountainpen in fact has done or can do. One has to do with lovely Mizz Jennifer Washburn and how it wouldn't prove anything, Permission Barriers or NAUT, and the other has to do with pre-employment, at least in the high majority of cases, and this being EDUCATION. Even my own daughter will tell you that nobody else has ever done such a thing, and the real joke here is that I didn't do anything. It just happened all around me back in 1972. A wild magical deal was made with the County of Camden, in Jersey, with their Board of Education, and despite my never attending a real high school anywhere after I went to the HTHS in Westmont, No Joysey for the 7^th and the 8^th grade, I never attended any type of regular schooling system after that. Still a deal was made where I would be given a DIPLOMA from the local area town high school, and for my mailing address at Oaklyn, NJUSAESMWG, at the Dellway Arms Apartments, that was the same school that the great illustrious Michael Landon had recently graduated from before his part in that great western show, Bonanza, as “Little Joe”, and moving on from there to numerous other great shows,my all time fave being, and many others as well, “Highway To Heaven”. The school was across from the Knights Park on West Collings Avenue, and was called West Collingswood High School, WCHS! I never went there, yet to this day, I have my diploma from there. There is not a rock star who was ever offered such a deal, and the great show of the nineties that started at the tail end of the 'Beetlejuice' eighties, called, “FULL HOUSE”, has an actress who will TELL ANY OF YOU OUT HERE, that I am speaking only absolute major powerhouse truths here on this blog. I don't mother fucking care who you are out here, from the President to the POPE, to the Queen of England whose cousin-ancestor chopped off my 22^nd granny's head on the axman's block, Sir DRAKE; no one is allowed to get such a deal, SO WHY WAS THIS THING OFFERED UP TO MY MOTHER, FOR ME, IN 1972????? Well, without getting into magical Christmas angels, or not so perfect Bruce Pennock, or great FCC future Chairmen, or magical characters from the SELANA DADA's South Atlantic City Rooming-house CLUB of 1974; let me add just one little tiny morsel bit of additional non-weirdo-flash-lamps here for anyone out here to ponder on, up in AD 2267 or so, and in or out of the mighty non-CHINESE I-CHING World Laboratories; and that would be thisssssssssss:!!!!!!!!!! Both the special-ed school on Hopkins Lane that I actually was attending at the time that this wild deal was struck between my mother and the C.C.B.E. (County Board of Ed), and the Princeton, New Jersey nightmare place that I was forced to go to without any proper cause or reason as I was not court ordered to be punished, or any other litigation or adjudication or legal procedure was ever a part of my suddenly going to that horrible place for my 6^th grade year of school, after James non-Tinsdale Stoy Grammar School wanted me to go there after I attended the 5^th grade there; but both of these places, the Princeton's New Jersey Neuro Psychiatric Institute or (NJNPI), as well as the Cooley Hall's Bancroft School of Haddonfield, vanished suddenly; about ONE YEAR OR SO AFTER MOUNTAINPEN BEGAN TO BLOG OUT TO THE WORLD, and someone somewhere knew that all odds were that I WOULD INDEED BE TELLING MY STORY TO ANYONE WILLING TO READ AND LISTEN THE FUCK TO IT, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!! Sheriff Ken Mascara sir, I will bring my diploma from the witches, over to your Midway Road Office next week, and let you check all of my stuff out in rigorous and vivid detail, me' kind wonderful awesome sir, yo!!!

Why do I talk about the great fifth dimension so much, many ask me. Well, a lot of you have done this recently, in my 'dreams', or you in hyperspace. Same difference really. Let's discuss this in a shallow opening, that later on, we can always expand on virtually without limit. It may be years later, but we will absolutely expand on this and many other things as well, IPYT!

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You would never believe what happened to me last night. I have only foggy memories of it, other than waking with a bang. I had managed to return to sleep after the phone and fire alarm crap, and found myself back at my old high school, on the athletic field, with good old school mate, Julius Sechedi. Suddenly we were not carrying each other on our backs running along the track surrounding the newly built football field, but I was alone and the place was the same place where I had met my daughter on a late September 2012 afternoon, near some weird sports bleachers. LSS, it ended at my apartment back at 125-A Haddon Hills, on Pyle and Crystal Lake Avenue. My daughter was telling me she is my daughter, and being thirteen myself at the time, being told this by a grown woman, was blowing my mind. This is going to be one wild day, if I remember more of these jumbled up pieces, I'll share them of course, with morianity, as Morianity has no secrets. It never did, and it never will, I promise!

It is already 91 now at 11:35 this turd chewing morning folks, with a humidity of 70% and a heat index of 100 degrees, YO! Oh well, happy happy sunny paradise FLORIDA, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The main point I want to get across for today is that the ESS is everything, in the same way that POWER is everything, when trying to get quality video or audio or send people out of this world and into the expansion all around us. I would say without hesitation or qualms or trepidations whatsoever, folks; that as with 1997 and my daughter's best proof that my Morianity cannot be fake and a 2009-balloon-hoax; that things are lawtronically forced to prove themselves out, but those wishing to sincerely know, and are earnest seekers, must not quit the very first time they are knocked down hard on their dam asses. This is not to say I give the advice ever to a single soul, to bang your head against a solid brick wall until the wall comes down, because it won't and you will die and as John Henningsen said so Pennock-Perfectly all through the early and middle nineteen-seventies, “It's just just that simple”. Know when to retreat, and know when to go and really kick ass. I am more a Kenny rogers 'know when to hold and fold kind of a guy,than I am a total follower of General Patton, despite his being on top of my list of personal heroes, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A seeker will always be shown, if he or she is legitiamate and not planning on doing anything for the general harm of all the rest of us, as it is all the rest of us who are supplying this seeker with his answers, by all we say and do or don't say or do, and any tiny little thing that goes down around us 24-7-365.2422. You can ignore this truth and scoff it off, but it is like saying you are a kangaroo and no matter how hard you insist on this, you are not a kangaroo. Again, John Henningsen and his simple yet fantastic marvelous words of Beatles Wisdom or just maybe his own wisdom, as most things in this bullshit all around us, are indeed just that simple, until all of us get together and volunteer to make it become the quintessential complexity, BRO!

Why do I talk about the great fifth dimension so much, many ask me, a lot of you have, in my 'dreams' or you in hyperspace. Same diff. Well, because it is there, and because I am having difficulties in eternity because of it, and find myself stuck endlessly, playing a game with a really beyond inconceivable goddess named Sarah Krassle, called, “GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS”, as you all should by now be completely aware of, YO. Marilyn McCoo has nothing whatsoever to do with any of this, however; is is strange that she and her peeps in the middle sixtirs, chose the name for their music band, the FIFTH DIMENSION, I mean, even the fourth one was not talked about very often, not back then, in trh e ixties, gimme' a fucking break here Margie.

Rain freshens an otherwise dirty world. We all are fortunate to receive it.

It is very nice and comforting to know that I am not the only one picked on by 'FACEBOOK' for doing nothing at all wrong; NBC NETWORK. Still, I never ever will have one thing to do with social media, cell phones, texting; or any of this silly new GAME JUNK, that passes itself off as the dark force's newest way of negatively controlling the population of Planet Earth. You all just go on enjoying this garbage. It ain't for me, and never will be.

OH SHIT, I think my point has been successfully made here, ladies and gentlemen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Don't even get me started, Misses Eckert Pharmacy, back on 7/12; on the topic of EXPLORATRONS, PLEASE! TANKS!!!

Except for the Almighty GODDESS MIDDIE; OR MOTHER-DAUGHTER-ELECTRON; (MDE); you can Put all of ''THAT'' endlessness, on your blackboard; David Leigh Smith; back at Haddonfield, NJ, in 1970!!!!!!!! So freaking W—O—W!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH THE GODS; DOES ETERNAL LIFE SUCK!!!!

JULY 8, 2014,

LATE ON TUESDAY MORNING AT 11:35,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE, 91 DEGREES FNHT,WITH 70% HUMIDITY.

JULY 8, 2014,

LATE ON TUESDAY MORNING AT 11:35,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE, 91 DEGREES FNHT,WITH 70% HUMIDITY.

HEAT INDEX IS 100 DEGREES, BUT HAY, THIS COULD BE TEXAS AND OTHER DESERTS ON FIRE!

WELL, IT IS NOT SUMMER TIME IN THE YEAR OF 2014 BUT RATHER IT IS NOW A WHOLE OTHER STM ILLUSION OF PHYSICALLITY. EVEN THOUGH IT IS 27 OCTOBER OF 2019 NOW, IT WAS 90 DEGREES AT A QUARTER PAST ONE THIS AFTERNOON WITH HUMIDITY MATCHING THE 2014 DATE, AND MOST DEFINITELY FEELING 100 OR SO DEGREES, YO.

THE GODS; DOES ETERNAL LIFE SUCK!!!!

Laugh all of this shit off; Mike and MO, AHA-AHA!!! Sometimes it is better to laugh than cry, right Marcus Muldanato and Leticia Tilley?

United States Copyright Office Records, pasted in part:

[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.	PAu001189027	1989

COPYRIGHT CLAIMANT NAME: MARK WAYNE MOHR

Also Sheriff KJM kind sir; I am most certainly and definitely NAUT buying into my seemingly suddenly becoming thrust into a world and a society that is so polarized to its very epitome. I speak of political items, yes, but also, I speak of the entire world around me as well. Everything may in fact be political, but not every issue is 'R' and 'D' or at least to the point where it cannot be separated and isolated in some rational way if for nothing other that recognizing that we all are human beings and living on this fragile little world that could be blown to smithereens in a flash should we suddenly be caught in the way of a magnatar that went off in deep space a million years ago. On top of that, my entire family has bipolar issues. I may or may not have told the story to these blogs about my days right shy of the Kennedy assassination, while residing in Philadelphia and attending the City Center Grammar School at 20^th and Chestnut Streets. My mom and her sister who was my Aunt Barbara, were all going to go the Rittenhouse Square Park nearby on the following day and make a real happy day out of it. My Aunt had major psych issues and today would be considered to be diagnosed as extremely bi-polar with numerous side psych features. Anyway she was so happy, and so was I, as I wanted the family happy and together, as what did I know about fucking life as a nine year old rug rat for crissake. We were planning to go there and make a day of it, and I used to enjoy getting the 'lemon-sticks' as they called them, basically a candy-cane sort of thing that had a hollowed out area that was then stuck into a lemon, tasting like lemonade only much better. When my mom and I got to my grandmother's apartment the following day however, and for absolutely no rational rhyme or reason; her other daughter who was my opera-singer Aunt Nutcase Barbara, was underneath the bed, rolling around, and crying and screaming out things like, “The world is against me, everybody hates me”, and all sorts of jazz along those lines, and needless to say, the family excursion over to the park WAS CANCELLED. Please don't get me started, but me' ol' damn ass pernt, Mister Bunkerqueens yo, is that everything seems to have gone absolutely and totally BI-POLAR. It seems that what began to take off after Ron Reagan came to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, has risen to levels of unmeasurable and beyond dangerous bi-polar end-times sociological absurdity, flying down a one-way boulevard at the speed of warp-drive. I do not know what is truly behind all of these things, but I am not buying that this is all just randomly fucking occurring around me and for that matter, around ALL OF US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So since it is happening, who then is behind this shit? Well, who for that matter is behind what happened to me on August 15, 1986, when I went to bed and woke up the next day INTO SOME UNRECOGNIZALBE BRAND NEW WORLD OF ENDLESSLY CURSED HELLFIRE? Of course there is an answer, and this answer is that the source to what is behind these wild fucking OZ-CURTAINS, comes from the COINS AND COILS of the Astral Plane of existence, AKA the PURGATORY!!!!!!

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

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!

[ 13 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Saga of song writer Mark Mud.

PAu000501582

1983

THE GLOBAL ENLIGHTENMENT OF MORIANITY.

THE RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM THREE

AND VIVA MORIANITY!

The time was back in 1984, and I said a lot more than just VIVA MORIANITY. I promise you that.

I LOVE YOU BEYOND ANY WORDS, DIANA ARTEEMS!!!!!!!

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I LOVE YOU WITH ALL OF MY BEINGNESS!

DON'T EVER LEAVE ME DIANA, MY ENDLESS LOVE!

Dangerous Thunderstorm Alerts provide the most advanced alerting to severe weather with lightning -- uniquely powered by total lightning detection.

When it comes to protecting life and property from severe weather, minutes matter.

Whether you’re a parent watching your kids playing soccer on the field, a county official managing the safety of attendees during an outdoor county fair, or a school administrator in charge of keeping thousands of students safe, having the earliest possible notification of approaching severe weather can literally mean the difference between life or death.

MARK WAYNE MOHR AND HIS BLOGS FROM JANUARY 2006-PRESENT DAYS:

2006-2014 © MOUNTAINPEN, MORIANITY BIBLE FOR MILLENNIUM THREE

Original five blogs:

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Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

[ 6 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection, set 4.	PAu000546149	1983
[ 7 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo collection : set III.	PAu000442785	1982
[ 8 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr demo tunes.	PAu000325091	1981
[ 9 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Mohr tunes.	PAu000411864	1982

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Yes folks,I really wish that someone, somewhere, would somehow, some day, grow a human conscience, and damn-ass

MEEEEEEEE.

BUTTERFIELDS and BUT, I know this won't happen for one fantastic powerhouse reason which is none other than the HUNTINGTON GODDAMN CURSE on me; a curse that has gone on for more than two millennia now. As Uncle Billy would say, on that wonderful and great old movie called, “It's A Wonderful Life”, “Boy oh boy oh boy Georgie”! How about, Marky? Jeeeeeeeeeze-Louise for crissake, LITERALLY, from his half human 62^nd grand-kid from this mortal world here in the blown out fifth dimensional hyperspace. WOW these road construction mother fuckers are gonna' be working here making unholy sounds for months, I suppose. What a bunch of mother fucking dogshit on steroids, with those rotten ass stenches from goddamn DOGTOWN to match, yo!

Yes great people, and even great folks of the AATS, unless there is a way of bringing about more and better relatability, THEN I AM FOREVER ENDLESSLY WASTING BOTH YOUR TIME AND MY TIME. To quote New Jersey's great dude from Elm, Sir D. Snyder near the great Mullica Police Station and Post Office, “That's just reality son”! The man was indeed telling it like it was, and still is, and always will be; and to quote another person from DOGTOWN, or hopefully there right now although there, there is no now or any other time reality, Mizz Dawn-Marie King who wiped out my life completely and entirely in 2008 and 2009; “It is what it is”, and yes, she too, is and was, and will always be correct there, with those Marcucci words of wisdom from THIS SIDE OF THE GREAT QUEEN'S POND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey 'be real' here for a minute willya', Mister Camden, New Jersey, Jefferson Street, 1980, Bob Schleigh sir; I am not saying that anyone knows whether the great magnetic train tracks of Voorhees, New Jersey near the Robin Hill Apartments, or the great Liverpool, England's underground tunnel system either, is how Mister Count Von Marcucci was able to come to COOLEY H.H. Hall, but I do know that I can always wonder just what indeed is happening all around me for the past fifty plus mother fucking turd chewing years, me' kind folks out here. SOMEONE HACKED OUT ME' OL' SPELLCHECKER SYSTEM AGAIN, AT SIXTEEN MINUTES PAST EIGHT THIS MOUUUURNING, YO, and I had to go off and boot up and come back, and now it is working again, yo. WOW THAT, spoon dancer Oprah land owner and all other beach sweeping barnacle cleaners of all of transdimensional hyperspace out here, wherever you may be reading this from yo!!!!!!!! And the SPACEBAR-HACK is back in full force now, FCC, FBI, ACLU, Sheriff KJM, and local and state of Florida LEO systems. WEEEEEE!!!!!!! 'BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP'; backhoe's are so fucking cunt annoying when we have to endure them all day long, day after day after day, SHERIFF, SIR, ButTERFIELDS and big ass BUTT but, I suppose we do need to keep our road systems in constant damn repair!!!! You fucking cunt missed me there, Mizz Uglydirtsadoodle Jane Notfondauonebit, so TEE-HEE-HEE-HEE, you rotten witch!!!!!!!!! BUTTERFIELDS BUTT BUT, I'll still put up a small ASTRAL-GROUPATION OF 5 #'S, YO!!!!!

Hey Jayjay Evans, what can I say? Life totally sucks bigger pricks than KW's. That is about all that I can say. Whoooaaaaa, I hate this horrible bullshit more than I can say, all oldie but goodie tunes notwithstanding, yo!!!

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[ 13 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Saga of song writer Mark Mud.

PAu000501582

1983

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

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Yes the two good things that happened while I was out before all of DOGTOWN then broke losses after coming back home, were not things I care to tell you, because I would also be telling enemies who mean me absolutely no good whatsoever, yo peeps, so for now, just trust me that two great things happened,and we can always do a James Files Rockford here, and “Get back to this” later on. Hopefully, no one will end up with broken noses or loosened teeth, Mister Maverick, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHA-AHA!!!!!!!

Yes as late June closed out this year, THE MILITUFORCE MOST DEFINITELY stepped up an already nasty assault on me by them, and things have not looked back since. WOW!!!

1:30 POST MERIDIAN

SATURDAY AFTERNOON, 15 JUNE, 2019

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

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But now it is the final week in Hollistertober, and that is a full third of a year later on, and so let me try and keep things more current while making sure I lay all necessary foundations as well as repeat any needed items so that we all might otherwise forget important shit that all ties endlessly fucking together with an ENDLESS NOW PRESENT HELLISHNESS AKA Mountainpen's Perceptual Earth-Planet Dogtownism. Jeepers creepers all mighty landowners and barnacle cleaning beach sweeping maintenance personnel of magnetic train tunnels and time-slips, huh Professor Kaku, of the mighty and wonderful NEW YORK UNIVERSITY (NYU)???????

Patterns cannot be ignored. Recently, as soon as one of these mother fucking asshole annoying nabes, either in unit 605 or unit 707, begins making loud and intentionally harassing noise against me, so does the other one. Just past noon, my upstairs mother fucking pricks in 707 started throwing furniture all around again, Sheriff sir. Then a few minutes later, that fat slob ILLEGAL GUEST of the lady in 605 began slamming the door incredibly fucking hard. I knew I would be eating dogshit before this happened, because ninety minutes earlier, give or take, the MILITUFORCE shot me with a MAJOR FUCKING DEATH BEAM ASSAULT, totally fucking up my goddamn heart rhythm, AGAIN!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE,what a totally mother fucking screwed up world we live in. I know you agree with me, Sir 99-Bombs-PRINCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh what to do with it all, Mister Mike McNulty, kind sir from autumn of 1971; YO BRRRRRR! Hey PH, YARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!! Me' buckin' ears are under me buckin' hat, Mister DLS of the mighty and quite illustrious COOLEY FOOLEY HH HALLucinogenic HALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Here comes another mother fucking DEATH ANGEL ATTACK ON MY RIGHT SIDE, AT 4 MINUTES SHY OF FUCKING CUNT TWO OF THE DAMN ASS CLOCK, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AATS PEEPS; unless I use an OPPOSITE-SHOOTER when playing the casino game of Roulette, yo, I can either keep losing money forever under this post August 1986 DEATH SIEGE that WILL NAUT EVER GO AWAY OR STOP, and that's fucking cunt obvious to a major damn ass retard; OR I CAN use PARALLEL EVENT applied to outside betting Roulette, OR, I can play ONE LONG GAME. I always considered one-long-game playing methodology as CHEATING, but AREN'T THESE DISEASED FUCKING PRICKS CHEATING ME AND CHEATING MY ENTIRE LIFE???????????? Think the fucking dogshit about it that way, and maybe I need to do something that the great disco queen DONNA SUMMER taught me to do, “REEVALUATE my preconceived notions” about all of these conscience-related items of so-called gentleman-ness, decency, and morality, yo! Think on this seriously for a damn ass seck, YO folks. If they stopped my ability to make some doe playing professional-roulette after 08-15-1986, by cheating me through the same thing I was doing with roulette only they did illegally, as it is ILLEGAL to harm people, and that is what was done to me, the lowering of my 'personal-magnetics' by endlessly damn persecuting me and destroying everything in my damn ass life; then why not turn around and CHEAT THEM RIGHT BACK????????? Forget backslidden Christians here Mister fucking ass Microsoft Spellchecker system, as this is way more important!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No one can stop a person who understands absolute inner workings of the world of the sub-atomic and AKA “Quantum Dynamics” applied TO LIFE! Playing one long game is in fact, applying just that type of special knowledge to real life, in this case in particular, the game of ROULETTE. Gee fucking cunt willagars, folks!!!!!!!!!!! If you record every number that ever comes out for you while playing any roulette or watching any game at any wheel, and never missing any numbers ever, eventually a baseline will be realized in no different a way than if you went to only one wheel forever and ever, and did this same exact thing. All of these numbers, in the world of subatomic truth in the quanta foam of possibility, in ratio to you personally, as a player or observer of any situation and in this case that situation is the game of roulette, and the number outcomes that happen anywhere around you; are going to be your baseline, and no one can take this away from you, or in my case, FROM ME. Not any law, or any person, or even any damn persecution that lowers a person's personal magnetics or said in easy parochial terms, a person's endless interaction with the world around them, as in theory, everything that we do must agree or not agree with the cosmos around us. When it agrees, we get a positive score, and when it disagrees, we get a negative score. These scores do not get erased, forgotten about, nor do they ever just go away in some magical poofed-out way. They stay with us until we are dead and gone from this mortal fucking drudgery of existence, kind peeps out here, yo!!!!! You make a bet at a casino. It loses, and you lost some money. This was in quantum dynamics terms, a disagreement between YOU and the COSMOS around you, at that exact instant where the little white ball dropped into the roulette wheel and made you lose. Doing anything no matter what it is, will always have connections that cannot be broken nor ignored in any way ever, for all of us, and there is absolutely no escaping this powerful truth. When enough negatives or positives all happen in a long enough string, gamblers know and understand the domino effect power that is truly behind these awesome events, that normal folks just laugh off as 'streaks of luck'. They are, but there is way more fucking shit going on behind the mighty DOROTHY AND TOTO OZ-CURTAINS here, me' wonderful kind Blogaudians!!!!!!!

END TRANSMISSION.

THE RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM THREE

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Monday, October 28, 2019

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