NUMDWATATES NOTE J3

10:45 ANTE' MERIDIAN

TUESDAY MORNING

29 OCTOBER, 2019

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2019

CURRENT PHASE IS: WAXING CRESCENT 2:7

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.

FULL MOON ACTUALLY MEANS THAT IT IS 12 NOON ON THE MOON.

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

Week

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Week ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-22-19

e Week ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-29-19

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.

This morning is very fucking noisy here at this rotten and awful PUBLIC HOUSING BUILDING of good ol' Fort Pierce, Florida, USAESMWG. Between shortly past damn ass eight, and shortly past demonic ten this MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING; I have endured shouting and hammering, and doors banging in the hallway, and then at the end of it for a finale' and crescendo; my diseased pricks upstairs are back on their damn furniture moving roll, & making a gods awful fucking racket! Gee willagars for Crissake, yo BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Live Camera from a random camera within the United States

Mike has accepted the fact that I don't plan to renew my apartment lease, and am making definite plans to go back home, or perhaps out to Color Red ('Colorado'), and yes, the MILITUFORCE has me so fucked up, that I actually confused the amount of playing cards in a card deck, with the number of states that there are in America, on previous recent blogging texts. 'So sorry' Mister Japanese Ambassador. Yes, we all know that there are 50, NAUT 52 states, so knock it off with the dummy comments, yo. I know that I'm a mother fucking dummy, BUTTerfield and big ass BUTT, and but folks; if you were suffering through one thirtieth of what I have had to endure since I left mother fucking COOLEY-HELL-HIGH-HALL at the end of January of 1973, & (receiving that incredible and mind blowing non-Marcucci-Thaxton diploma from the great nearby 'OTHER WITCHES' school, Mister Eugene Horowitz sir (Michael Landon-Stage Name); you would all be in a psych ward, and as loony as a thousand goddamn coo-coo birds could ever hope to be, yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

Now it is high time to temporarily go around the greatest points and subjects of Morianity that make it what it is in fact; and move onto a side tangent for a short while, that is to say, move away from hyperspace discussion throughout all of these blogs of nearly fourteen years now, and take this into the most mind blowing (NON-THAXTON-MARCUCCI) part of all of thisssssssssss, Mizz Erica Lovely Luscious AMC Kane. So what is thisssssssssss you may be wondering? Well, speaking of mind-blowing, it is the MIND, and the great mystery of just what consciousness truly is, and why it is not even close to being created in any computer science laboratories as of the time of this blog's creation anyway. You have all heard me talk about taking the mighty minded Sir Einstein's great relativity concepts, that invented for the first time in human history, the idea of the truths of 'SPACE-TIME', and moved and advanced things to their ultimate destinies and conclusions. I am speaking of course of none other than 'SPACE-TIME-MIND', and why this is the absolute reality that in fact creates and maintains the eventuality of human-consciousness, and so many other connected and related items as well, yo! It is why the I-Ching trances work, and yes lovely gorgeous pirate joking Mizz Patricia H. H. Hollister, it is even WHY THE FASCITAR WORKS AS IT DOES, when used by people here on the waking world's mighty as well as fantastically AMAZING, “EARTH-PLANET”. It is also why the entire Albert Einstein's great formula is what it is, Mizz D. M. King and others out here, and this includes why time seems to dilate when we move at close to the speed of light in a spaceship, and al the rest of the stuff that we have all heard about from time to time since we were making HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE stenches in our DAMN diapers, for Sahasra Dal Kanwal's sake (HEAVEN'S)! Let me go on and further attempt to explain myself, yet all the while continue to keep shit all nice and simple so the vast majority of readers don't just hit the “NEXT-BLOG” button, and move away from this vely vely vely Bob McDowell Cooley Fooley non-HALLucinogenic HALL “MORIANITY”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our brain is a bunch of very worthless goo and after you are no longer alive or conscious to the so-called reality or world that connects up through your quintasensory system as Morianity has coined the word, for having our five-senses of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and the most important of all, feeling, as in not only touching and feeling stuff but 'feeling' many invisible things including the space-time that connects through our brain created CONSCIOUSNESS. This goo once our bodies are physically dead, is not worth a bloody thin dime. It is said our entire body and that includes what is above our necks, is maybe at best worth a little over a dollar to medical science. My point is that the magic of it all, are the ELECTRONS that activate this wild magical fucking brain-goo (gray-matter), and without these electrons, as any Neuro-Surgeon will tell us, racing all around this weird stinky goo, “WE ARE DEAD”. If you doubt me, go to that great fantastic “L&O” Television show, and the episode where an illegal organ harvest was performed by a crooked Neuro-Surgeon with a HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE GOD-COMPLEX, and hear how he told the ADA “When a Neuro-Surgeon says you're dead, YOU'RE DEAD”! If he had wanted to, he could have just as easily, accurately, and truthfully said to her, “When a Neuro-Surgeon says that electrons are no longer physiologically connecting your nervous system and brain, (sending electrons through it), YOU'RE DEAD”! Consciousness is alla part of that very mysterious subatomic particle and one third of atomic reality, the ELECTRON. Guess who just fucked me again, people? You got it, lovely darling Mizz Dirtweeds Fart Sniffer Notfondauonebit! I will now compensate or CUNT PHLEGM RAPE with my groupation of five-numbers, remembering that the word 'groupation' is an Astral-Term for numerous 'COINS' or 'COILS' who travel out and away from the timeless-endless Purgatory, and into our waking world's five-dimensional hyperspace. After I post up my FIVE-GROUPATION, I will continue the discussion and foundation-laying stuff about what truly is happening so that we can all become aware, or better said, how a Lawtronically-Programmed Cosmos, or (LPC), is a self-designing system that eventually creates the atomic element of carbon, and that leads in its ultimate connections in STM, to human beings here on Earth, and their sudden and wondrous ability to ask themselves who they are and what is this thing surrounding them called COSMOS?

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The mind will be major harped on, and eventually you will all come to see and absolutely realize that the fourth and the fifth dimension are as tied together as the three lower remaining ones of length and width and depth. This blog is to just lay a foundation that explains that any movement away from what Mountainpen has always called “regular time” long before society even used the expression, “REAL TIME”, is nothing more than our MIND being altered. The so-called scientific stuff is very real, but all that any of their dogshit will ever hope to do, IS TO ALTER OUR PERCEPTUAL CONNECTIVENESS TO THE 4^th AND THE 5^th DIMENSIONS of the blown out hyperspace from the truer PURGATORY-PLANCKATORY or (Astral-Plane). Even the Planck-Time, and all of the great 'CERN' peeps; do not realize that even all of that, originally came out of ZERO-DIMENSION, and also, that brand new mathematical formulas need to copy the wonderful advice of a personal hero of mine, the great Disco Queen Mizz Donna Summer, and “Reevaluate their concepts and preconceived notions”. Funny how James Redfield never shuts the shit up, huh Mister Sidney Cohen Haddon Avenue Crown of early 1970? I mean really yo, talk about the major non-Cifaloglio car-kicking garage-magazine incident, all great half a bill buck secrets seem to come screaming out at us at the same time. I have one thing to say to Mizz Margie Leo from late in 1985, over at the once existing Caldor Department Store of Woodbury Heights, New Jersey, USAESMWG. That would be of course, and quoting her precisely and exactly here, only spelled out in Mister Elmer Fudd style, “Cut me a bwake, willya”? A real thinker already knows that I have now opened up some doors that have the absolute potential to alter the way human beings exist and sociologically interact here in this waking world's EARTH-PLANET. Now it does not matter how the demos truly got done, or how Tahren was busted for drug possession up there in Delaware, or in those times of autumn of 1979 it would be more Einstein-Relative for me to say in Delaware “down there” since my residency state was NAUT Florida, but was good-ol' NO JOYSEY. Butterfield big ass BUTT, and but folks, before you laugh to loudly at me, remember things like Mount Saint Helen's, remember things like the 2011 twisters, and yes, I fucked up on old blogs and said switched two songs being discussed while trying to let you all know how deadly dangerous it is to electronically confuse two dimensional realities which is easily accomplished by recording songs from dreams, and on top of that, match voice prints and other so-called NO-NO stuff. Then for those who still might laugh because not everybody dreams songs that don't exist in their world, at least NAUT every night, huh Mizz AT&T Blake? Can any of you believe up there in the great United States © Office, just how incredible Mizz Blake is to the Twilight Zone's “Miss Finch” on that “MIGHT CALLER” episode. By the way, SATANIC FAWCES-POWERS (THE MILITUFORCE) must hate this blog, as the DIRTBALL ILLEGAL COUSINS FROM ACROSS FROM ME IN UNIT #608 are driving me totally fucking nuts as dogshit with endless slamming fucking doors, SHERIFF KEN MASCARA, me' kind wonderful and awesome sir, 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 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!

Oh goddessdamn it yo; here comes that trustworthy mother fucking (`~HACK) also, SHERIFF K.J.M., sir!!!! Rotten bastards!!!!

WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW, lovely O.W.

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

KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL ® 1980

MARK WAYNE MOHR

PINK GODDESSES

MORNING LIGHTS

DESTRUCT SWITCHES

GARY MITCHELLS

AND CAPTAIN WILLIAM SHATNER KIRKS

So, yo, what do you think of this story?
Click here for comments or suggestions.

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

NO FOLKS, THIS IS MOST CERTAINLY NAUT

MEGAHELL ON STEROIDS, CHAPTER 0000,

BUTTERCHEESE and big ass BUTT, and but, it looks so 'damn' pretty here, Senator Sanders, sir, and we all love pwetty things, do we NAUT?

My entire DAMN life Senator sir, is nothing but endless:

MEGAHELL ON STEROIDS

We all love FIREFOX. Well I do, but I sure wish this mother freaking automated mechanized robotized inhuman society would help people who are in their freaking sixties. Ever since I did one little thing on my blog, using the FIREFOX BROWSER, simply trying to leave a comment on my own blog, at the BLIGGER-DOT-COM site, the cookies got goddess dam disabled somehow, and I can no longer blog on this browser, until I can get my dam guru over here; and that is a very expensive proposition, AND IT JUST IS NOT DAM ASS FAIR, YO! This world is fixed and prejudiced against older people, who have no family support, or anyone in their dam ass lives to assist them, and it should be totally frikkin' illegal; Congressman Pat Murphy sir, and Governor Rick Scott, sir!!!!!!!!

'ZIGGY, ZIGGY HELLO'; ALL AMERICAN NETWORKS!!!

How can anyone out here even begin to mother fuckign explain WHY IT WAS SO 'DAMN' IMPORTANT TO “SOMEONE OR SOMETHING”, CAPITALISM AND CAPTAIN NON-MIKE SOFT SHATNER; FOR MY VOICE TO BE BRO BRO BROADCAST, COAST TO COAST, BACK IN THE END OF THE SIXTIES AND FOR THE FIRST COUPLE OF YEARS IN THE SEVENTIES, ON THAT ANTI-POLLUTION NON-TNG HOLLISTER ALLKNOWING PIGS ON THE BEACH AND HOT IN THE NINETIES, TELEVSION FUCKING COMMERCIAL? EXPLAIN IT RATIONALLY, ANYONE, IF YOU CAM, GO RIGHT AHEAD, ME' BRAHHH!!!!! Oh for the sake of Roddenberry's great 1996 LOVE SONNETS, yo yo yo yo, and of course, all 'other' all-knowing PINK GODDESSES EVERYWHERE, and yes, a big skinny WOW to lovely BIG-OOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

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[ 14 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	PAu002153196	1996
[ 15 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	SRu000332786	1996

SO TELL ME, MISTER GARY STARFLEET MITCHELL OF THE ESP PINK GODDESS CONNECTED WORLDS OF WONDERFUL ALLKNOWING “STAR TREK”, DO YOU KNOW OR UNDERSTAND WHAT IS GOING ON HERE WITHALLOF THIS, YO YO YO YO???? Maybe on or off Bruce Pennock's 2 Beaver Drive Street, you just might kind sir. Oh those great air conditioning units, huh mighty shoe-knocker-outer, Sir Chester-Frank. Yessir yo, I know that you know who you are, and I suppose that this puts you light years ahead of so many others out there!!!

That mother fucking DEATH ANGEL is driving me out of my ever mother loving fucking mind at light speed squared, Sir Drake and Sir Einstein. Imagine that, lovely Patty, and yes mahm, if you are still one of the breathers, and how can I ever know; “Happy Hollow-Teen”, and a tricky teet-teet from the lands of all mystical non Jersey islands, but rather, the illustrious COOLEY FOOLEY H. H. HALLucinogenic HALL, never to be confused with two great security officers from nearly two decades later on, or 'whatever'; kind Congressman Andrews, sir. Remember that day when I introduced you to my mom, Bob? I had absolutely forgotten who you were, so sorry. I even forgot the great experience I had on Woodie Guthrie's Island, chalking it up to nightmares back on 10-5-08. Gee willagars and golly gee gash darn gee whiz Copyright Examiners of the Beetlejuice Days. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

This mechanic was the one who beat me up in that parallel world where he demanded money and I did not have enough to pay him after he had finished a repair job on my vehicle, and my parents had some weird magic carpet they rode around in. Now in this parallel world, he was in a totally different location, the north Cherry Hill, New Jersey area, and the shop he had was huge and strange, and he acted nice, but then suddenly said to me, and I won't forget this shit if I live to be one hundred and ninety three. He said, that will be seven hundred and forty dollars and thirty four cents. As he said it, he handed me the bill. I almost fell down, expecting the work to be maybe two bucks, MAYBWE, an d I hoped I could skate by for closer to $150.00. When I told him I only had a little less than $300.00 in my bank and no credit cards, just my dam debit card, he reminded me of all of the repair jobs he had done for me, even the one for many thousands, that many of my blog followers know all about as well. Suddenly I remembered who he was, and that I was in a parallel universes, inside of my double-me, dreaming; and so far, just the recessant in the experience, and not the dominate, hence I was being a regular or normal dreamer, AKA a TYPE-1-Exploratron. We are all T-1-E every time we sleep, and some live lifetimes with no conscious recall to any of their hyperspace adventures, while yet a few others, have learned how to become advanced-dreamers, T-2-E and even eventually T-3-E and joining up with the ESS (Exploratronic Supermind Society)!!!!!!!!!!!! I kn ow that MC knows about all of this, and is just being mean and stubborn, keeping this all to herself. But what can I do, Mama and Papa Cass, of the Choking Ham Sandwiches?

Now the price of this repair work ended in 34 cents, as in the 34-Macy Bunch. There was even more to this experience. Some remember how in yet another parallel world, I was the Regional Manager in my area in 1984, in Cinnaminson, New Jersey, while living on Highland Avenue in a rental home owned by Mister Patterson. I really was living there, here in this universe. But while there, I fell asleep one night and began to have this gods awful major vivid experience where I was working in this position, for the Estee-Lauder Company, the fragrance people. We all know, or fans anyway, that MC is also into fragrances, and had those ad-spots running on TV, earlier this century, with my Cousin Donald and Martha Stewart, advertising their fragrance products, at the Macy Store, in NYC, at 34^th Street. I never had put any of these unmistakable towel-seepage connections all together, until very recently, but now, in addition to all of this, comes last night's incredible dreaming-experience, YO!!!

Then comes the 740 dollars, before the 34 cents. I cannot help noticing the mathematical-numerological connections to the number price of this mechanic's bill, you know, as in 74 or 7-4, you know, as in July 4.

My numerous unexplainable hyperspace experiences all speak endlessly for themselves, and not one rational thinking mind has the ability to dispute them or disprove anything that I speak about in any laboratory or with any mathematical formula whatsoever, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I totally realize and know this, so screw all the Missouri-doubters of the Earth-Planet! Now we're back with that annoying fucking (SPACE-BAR-HACK), again, kind Sheriff Ken Mascara, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW THAT, and a HUUUUUGE ASS WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE as well, yo BRO!!!!!

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MY BLOGS:

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 fuckiGN 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 dam 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!!!

DECEMBER 16, 2015,

EARLY WEDNESDAY MORNING AT 12:22,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE ++ DEGREES FNHT.

TEMPERATURE RANGE YESTERDAY-------(H-++/L-++).

RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS ++%, AND IT FEELS LIKE ++.

WIND IS ++ AT ++, WITH GUSTS TO ++.

TOTAL RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---++++

I do not plan to repopulate the weather page on this blog. It is always hot in South Central Florida, unless it is the cooler third of the year, in-between December and March; and when I say 'cooler', don't go picturing frosty cold winds, or snow blizzards, for Christmas sake, folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HO-HO-HO, and HA-HA-WHO, United States L.O.C. © Office!!!!!

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Image result for images of lighthouses at night

MMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONIC:

Computer, hear my MVP (Mind-Voice-Print). You will be totally absolutely crushing, obliterating, annihilating, and devastating, wrecking, ruining, and utterly wiping out, all of my enemies that are viciously persecuting me on this 29 October of 2019, with building enemy nabe and general neighborhood noise, on a crush-destruct order, under GENERAL-ORDER-189, max.-power. Open-Command, General Order #7. Use G-901, G-1133, G-14, G-719, G-13, CG5555-QP4 sub-code, under G-917, CG-2, under CG-18, and HOLD!!!!

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

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

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

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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

Just discussing this topic, and my computer is beginning to mother fucking act up; my kind lads and lassies, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HACK-HACK-HACK, MIZZ LOVELY LATTISAW, OR JUST WHAT??????????????????

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SO WHERE IS PROJECT #29, AS I CANNOT ACCESS IT FROM MY COMPUTER?

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, FBI, & ACLU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GOBBLE-GOBBLE-GOBBLE, TRICKY TEET-TEET, AND HO-HO-HO---MERRRRRY CHRISTAMS, YO YO YO!!!!!!!

LATER ON THIS YEAR, Happy Turkey Day, YO!!!!!

Right now, a Happy Halloween to John Gillerlain and David Leigh School-Projects Smith.

Still later beyond these two dates, is MELLLLLY MELLLLLY CLISSMAS, Sir Bob Dick in the mouth to Bruce Pennock, 'McDowell'.

This leads me to a discussion that goes right back to the unforgettable hyperspace song called, “Love Is For Carpenters, or shortened to “LOIS FOCA”, by me. Allow me to explain a wee bit further, all lovely Shamrock lassies out here, and NAUT JUST LOVELY PATTY!!!!!! Maitees, this is wild, so READ ON, YO!!!!!

Here is another thing that the great Music Arranger, Mister Tom Glenn said to me that early 1981 day at my apartment at 1802 Robin Hill, in Voorhees Township, NO JOYSEY, USAESMWG. READ ON, ME' KIND FOLKS, and awesome Blogaudians!!!!!

He told me that music has two items in it, and that I appear to be ignoring one of them. It is made up of notes, but IT ALSO IS MADE UP OF “TIMING”. Since timing for someone like me is quite erratic, many of my musical things were as well. I have learned since hearing his great advice on that fateful day in early 1981 however, to indeed, be more observant of timing in my music. This again is merely a very quickly laid down foundation on things that later on butTERCHEESE but soon, we will further delve into ant really start to explore. It gets weelwee heavy and major, so be forewarned right now, peeps! I'll say this much on this blog today to whet some appetites however. Now the reason that timing with me is erratic, or to put it as many musicians might put it, without regard to my feelings, or how strong their insults may have been at the time; is due to the fact that time, as well as the total area of all combined realities or parallel universes in the fifth dimensional hyperspace, is connected together, and as we all know by now, Mister Joel sir, my life here in present localized consciousness as the human being that I seem to be right now or Mark Mohr the Mountainpen, is all interconnected and intertwined into a whole damn ass lot more realities than the usual just one universe that most of you out here are living in. This causes more wild shit than any million blogs could ever have the smallest hope of ever adequately and properly addressing. DOORS-DOORS-DOORS, THESE ILLEGAL COUSIN SCUM ACROSS THE FUCKING HALL TODAY ARE REALLY MAKING ME FUCKING NUTS, SHERIFF SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, but then, that is par for the course when things start to get said that HALLS FAWCES do not want me saying, so all that they need to do is instantly begin to influence the shit around me, and my interaction with cosmos, to suddenly begin attacking me, and most of the damn time, Senator Sanders sir, they don't even know why they are doing what they are doing. I'll bet you sir, and anyone else out here can PERSONALLY RELATE at least on several occasions in your own lives to just such dogshit, only with you, it is not happening to you on an every damn day level HOUR AFTER HOUR, DAY AFTER DAY, YEAR AFTER YEAR, AND CENTURY AFTER MOTHER FUCKING CENTURY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This mother fucking road construction right outside my goddamn window is getting really mother fucking cunt huffing annoying as all get the shit out, yo!!! When the great United States Copyright Office, put the order of my musical projects together, on their web-page; that number 14 and 15, are the numbers corresponding to that love sonnet that I indeed wrote in that year, for my PINK GODDESS, ALMIGHTY JEHOVAH!!!! And in 1969's great summer of love, I was in-between year age numbers 14 and 15, precisely. Clues in the cosmos couldn't get more loud, more visible, more clear, and more in my face, if they literally had picked me up and shaken me until I died of brain fucking ass concussion. There is no denying this Sarah Krassle mess, from the tomb of a risen Jack In Jesus, to the Coral Reefs of great sunny-paradise Florida in 2016!

Image result for images free funny faces

7-5-6-9 is an extremely significant and PowerHouse Groupation of digits, and it will take YEARS to fully get into just YYYYYY!!!!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Winds: ---- WITH GUSTS.

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

Moon Phase: ************

HOT-HOT-HOT-HOT----SNOT!!!!!!! WEIN?

HOTTER THAN DOGSHIT IN JULY!!!

[ 5 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Lost love.

PAu000344219

1981

[ 3 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian Guard House.

PAu003351785

2007

Tell the truth about it all; oh great Library Of Congress.

SO YOU LOSE YOUR DAMN JOB, LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS.

SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM, SHERIFF KEN MASCARA, SIR!!!

High school musicals, and James Stoy Leslie Tinsdale, can lookout for me as I blow on down the line; trucker Bob Bad Back Levy 187, and all other fantastic Atlantic County addresses; huh record company giant JOYCE-PAULA-1978?

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Lighthouses have an obvious cosmic significance. Many ideas spring into mind unless we have the intellect of a damn dying worm on a fish hook. We think of shining their beacon's to tell the marine vessels out at sea that land is nearby and that danger from low shorelines or rocks is close by. But it also can most certainly stand for many things, even into the spiritual dimensions of reality. I do not doubt that this is why I had that vision after dying at Cifaloglio that early morning at three minutes past five after that noisy machine popped on and shocked my heart into a D-FIB death rhythm. I remember seeing my own body slumped over the steering wheel in my car, and immediately 'willing myself' into the great city of SDK. Without going any further into this for right now, I wish to make other points about how lighthouses truly represent the spiritual dimensions of producing other worldly enlightenment.

I hear so many people tell how light overcomes darkness, and it seems to. We al know that the greatest darkness can be overwhelmed by lighting the smallest candle, let alone activating a wall light switch that turns on hundreds of watts of luminescence that instantly brightens a room and ends the darkness immediately. But what nobody tells you while making this argument, is how enough gravitation can indeed override and overcome the light. Most of us have been taught how gigantic black holes in outer space can indeed be so powerful that even light is unable to escape, hence, they are called BLACK-HOLES for that very reason. I only make this point right now without getting any further into this powerhouse discussion today, to say that nothing is ever as simple as the great Mister John CIA Henningsen used to insist that it was, to me, back when I was a youth in the late nineteen-sixties, with his famous quotation. MIND or 'GRAVITATION', same reality when fully realized or (understood) kind folks; is able to exist and interact inside of virtually unlimited shades of absolute light and absolute darkness or said better perhaps, maximum oneness (AL) to maximum mind (AD). When we are connected to DOGTOWN, MIND is not able to escape the misery of the endless LIGHTSWITCH-NIGHTMARE, that I was permitted to experience as a younger person here in body and alive physically. It is a nightmare where you continue endlessly running for a light-switch in a room and the light never is permitted to come on, and in sheer terror and horror, you realize that you are still in bed and inside of a nightmare so scary that it makes a trillion fucking Halloween's all combined, look like a friendly kids pajama party at the Brady house. So again you say to yourself, I am now awake and I will run out of my bed and across the room and turn on the light-switch. Only AGAIN, it won't go on. So AGAIN you eventually realize that you never really woke up and that you are still inside of this incredible and unfathomably terrifying nightmare, and now YOU REALLY ARE AWAKE, and this time, IT IS REALLY REALE, and all will be all right if you can just either get to the 'morning light', or at least fucking get to the light-switch and turn the damn Senator Sanders light on, yo. ONLY alas yo, it won't go on, AGAIN. Thisssssssssssssss is one tiny piece of the hellishness experienced in wonderful lovely D-O-G-T-O-W-N, yo!!!! Speaking of cunt lapping endless DOGTOWN, guess who just mother fucking GOT ME AGAIN no matter how I endlessly fucking attempt to avoid that horrendous miserable WITCH FROM HELL, Mizz Rottenbeyondwords Sleazeweedsdisease, JANE FONDA. I now need to turd chewing cunt phlegm rape, AKA (COMPENSATE), folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Another absolutely 'peachy' fucking 'neato boss' thing about DOGTOWN, to quote facetious, and somewhat antagonistic and sarcastic, DRY-THROATED FRED GWIN Herman Keepingmewhittlemouthshut non-Twilight-Zone Munster, of all NON 1983 ATCO, NO JOYSEY MYSTERIES; is how we get turned into these creatures with tails and four legs, and given huge powerful noses that are thousands of times more sensitive to smells than human beings, and on top of that, DOGTOWN has millions of powerful extra potent sulfur mines all over the place. So adding this to Mike Jackson's paddle-box, as well as the horrendous frightening torturous pinball machine, and the hard work in the high growth fields, and yes people, the light-switch deal is all we need in that place, to make it so horrible that no damn ass ninety five googal amounts of words ever spoken here, will be able to paint anything close to an accurate picture. Still, fiery lakes of stinking rotten sulfur does do a pretty nice job, and pitchforked devils and skeletons and Halloween on steroids does come somewhat close, but no Sarah Karge on 10-SC Avenue on July 12, 1997, “NO DAMN CIGAR”, sweetie, yo SIS!!!!!!!!!!!!! And here comes that mother fuckign trustworthy (`~HACK), Sheriff sir, and others out here too, yo!!!!!!!!! Hey, what else is new? (SOSO-WEIN-SSDD)?????????????????????????

Well Sheriff Mascara; I know that you have checked up on me and my friends, few as they may be; and you know about Mike, and his brother the real estate investor from Hutchinson Island. Well sir, and other AATS Blogaudians out here, Mike is back in the hospital. His car was never repaired, and he was totally screwed by PAID-OFF (Manny the mechanic) in Hollywood, Florida, to screw him and kill him, as he has serious medical problems and conditions, Sheriff sir, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Miami professor is ignoring me after telling me to send him my fantastic idea that Larry Lee also screwed me with in May of 2018, Sheriff sir, and I know that you also know all about this miscarriage of justice and ORDERS FROM THE FLORIDA STATE LEGISLATURE; as this was first wondered about by me, after his secretary did what she did and said what she said, at the State Farm Office that day, and then was absolutely verified to me, by the NG-ADS dude, who was threatened by the Trump Thug Helen Lovely Daughter Harris FBI Tactics Team, and won't be coming back to my PUBLIC HOUSING BUILDING, with or without my glandular problems and the PH factors, as well as all the other inconceivable POWERHOUSE WOES AND MISERIES!!!!!!! No I absolutely won't confuse the great old nineteen-sixties show, “THE FLINTSTONES” here, with little powerhouse 'BAMBAM', but yes, WAM-WAM or really, WHAM are the two of us getting literally and totally fucking KILLED, poor Mark Mohr and Mike Patterson!

Yes AATS, and any and all other non-AATS BLOGAUDIANS out here; I truly do believe in the Redfield-Synchronicity-Syndrome, and I believe that someone was able to influence the inventor of the original typewriter, to place certain letters the way they are, just for the USE-SUE-TOW-TWO purpose of being able to engage me in their SICKO GASME GAMES of numerous coded poems, rhyming prevarications, and sick prankster joker fun, in an eternal attempt to distract from the horrors of ENDLESSNESS, and the truths of being an 'existor', or a 'PURGATITE', same exact thing, people!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The dirt bag parallel event thing with the Flyers, Phillies, and DJIA Stock Market is all rapped up in this same puke chewing retched game from the darkest parts of stenchy DOGTOWN! That horrible rotten vocalist that advertised for the Flyers team on Pholly-57, with their rotten lousy hickey sports, and so much more, and there is no way in DOGTOWN, lovely PH, that these things can all be a 'weedeekawuss ass coeenkeedink', yo!!!!!!!!! Yes that great show starring Sir Bill Bixby, called “The Incredible Hulk” had a great two part episode where the hulk nearly drowned in a really 'huuuuuuuuge' pile of non Senator Sanders quicksand. In this show, I always remembered how David who had zillions of altered surnames that WERE-NAUT-BANNER, said to the young girl that was with him, that if they did not escape the peeps who were chasing them, and without any stairs, cats, or Ziggy-Jetty funny-HA-HA's, “We are two dead people”. I said those same exact words countless times, to Dave Roth. I have said them many times to Mike Patterson. No one will believe me, and we end up indeed, “Two dead people”. I of course am seemingly being endlessly retraced back into this GASME-GAME because I am just too mother fucking important to these ASTRAL-PLANE COINS AND COILS, to not have around on this mortal plane of existence, to play with, torment, torture, and put through mother fucking DOGTOWN, 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!

You see kind folks, and SHERIFF KEN J. MASCARA SIR; rapped up in all of this entire nightmare story of MOUNTAINPEN'S HUNTINGTON FAMILY CURSE, is: The year 1969, and the shit then regarding ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY, the magical non-Hollister chain, or maybe it was Hollister magic, as who can ever know such great truths, wonderful Librarian of the Congress of 2007, who desperately needed to get rid of that mind crushing “little yellow piece of paper”, Sarah Krassle and HER wild dream, and HER stealing of the chain, and the incredible HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE tri-trail jet chemtrail in early middle December of 1969, that I now refer to as the “CHAIN STEAL, & SK's SKY-MESSAGE”, and the 4^th of July Holiday at Ziggy's Jetty under the C.P., that led to a globally known hit recording, and the other national anti-pollution message that used my voice, with pigs all over the beach on many generations perhaps; huh Patty me' lovely gal?, the 1980 LOIS FOCA song sung to me by this incredible magical goddess, when I was newly residing at 1802 Robin Hill, and finally the 1983 mysterious medical condition where out of the blue I found myself choking to death, and no damn medical person having a clue as to why. This of course followed months of vely vely non-FCC-McDowell mysterious telephone calls, the wild Privecode Machine, invented by the IMMC later to become the InterDigital Corporation, and then all led up to the great magical lab-technician throat specialist's assistant who was instrumental in the great BonJovi project of thirty years of photon projection or up in the future in the year of 2013. Then of course the really big deal was 1986 and the night I died, went to hell, and never ever came back,so then I ask you Jack Klugman sir, and I won't say to you, “What's to do”, but rather, “Where then am I since this sure is naut the place that I left the night before”? I will say however, and naut just to Mister Klugman; that this string of stuff from 1969 through 1986, ending me up at dirtbag Richard Barf Karpf's house of true agony and pain, all has interconnecting tentacles just like a fucking mean octopus grabbing a deep sea diver until he chokes to death along with the Mountainpen in 1983, from lack of oxygen. Also this five month wild excursion into wherever and whatever, at this house of ultra hyper-time agony, at 1931 Route 70 (Marlton Pike), in Cherry Hill, NJUSAESMWG, is indeed naut only connected precisely into itself and all of the each-other items all throughout this nightmare mess on steroids, but even the connections to the world where I seemingly traveled into and stayed for 153 days that seemed to even peak mister Roddenberry's interests, him and his crew of fantastic fiction writers, only just as with “TPB”, just how damn ass fictional really and truly and verily, is all of this shit, yo? Everything from both these worlds has seemingly collided along with the shit that individually does in each one of them on their own very separate levels. Even the mighty super sleuth Sir Sherlock Holmes would not be able to solve this awesome mystery, or would he, Captain Picard sir? Why don't we create another program on your marvelous H-Deck, or better still sir, why don't we tell the damn professor just how fantastic my shit is, so that the damn college can get behind it and make it happen as lovely Irene Cara would say it or sing it so well, back in the flash dancing choke year of 1983? There is nothing at all that my idea cannot do if it just was permitted to begin on a small level, Uncle Heinz Babyblond Gottwald of all great cameras and 1972 Christmas angel years, road trips, and wonderful awesome talented daughters from DOGTOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now, this will lead me into the very final part of this bwog, Mister Elmer Fwudd, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAHA!

My last will and testament:

Sheriff Mascara, I am making you my executor, kind sir, as I have no money to LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGALLY 'carry' out my objectives here, 'no pun intended', but yes, I still bequeath to my daughter, the sea charts, found in my documents envelope, as this is HER HERITAGE, and my father would never have been allowed into certain places in secret areas of certain museums in Europe back in the days of WWll, unless he had some Portuguese roots himself.

This is all that I wish for M.C. To have.

My last will and testament:

Sheriff Mascara, I am making you my executor, kind sir, I will all my worldly goods to the Ancient Astronaut Theorists. Now if there is a main club or society address, this is where this is to be directed. They own my blogs and any and all on-line work since I started this in early January of 2006. Also, all of my copyrights until they run out, are to go to the AATS/AAT. Only a proper understanding someday of my blogs as well as my songs and other stuff that is all copyrighted by me, will life humanity out of the doldrums of present day RELIGIOUS OPPRESSION. I hope someday that the son of the great president, whom I never liked, since he did so much to hurt the poor and oppressed such as myself, but that his son RONNIE REAGAN, who knows what devastating effects that this crap can have on someone, joins up with the AATS, and if he does, I want him to be one of the people in charge of properly examining all of my blogs and all of my copyrighted material.

Anything I have that can be sold for anything can go to burn or bury my physical remains and throw my shell into potters field at any local municipality, currently as of the date on this blog, I reside in Fort Pierce, Florida, absolutely legally.

Now people, if there is no organized groupation for the Ancient Astronaut Theorists, then the following three people, should they agree, have full rights to any and all of my intellectual property, divided in thirds between them, with the desire by me for them to someday soon set up such a club or society with regular meetings, and with the BOM edited as desired, included in their vast and growing knowledge of what is truth and reality, or what is MORIANITY as I label this to be in nomenclature.

DAVID CHILDRESS, WHO DISCUSSES THESE MATTERS ON MANY EDUCATIONAL TV CHANNELS
PROFESSOR MICHIO KAKU OF THE NEW YORK UNIVERSITY (NYU)
AUTHOR OF THE GREAT BOOK AND AAT'ist, 'CHARRIOT OF THE GODS'

This now ends

My last will and testament:

I have done lots of soul searching, and this is how I want things to go. Whether or naut they go the way I want to is somewhere between mother fucking problematical and absolutely pathetic. Gee willagars folks, would you weelwee have a better Twinbay-Desire' attitude than me, should you be facing the endless hellishness that I am?

12 great flags, and 50 great states; only the real point here is all about 52 fantastic playing cards, the great mind control magic trick of Copperfield-Hollister, and WAYV-FM RADIO, who I know is a lot more than they claim to be. Now do not forget, they may NAUT know this on a conscious mind level, and remember just what consciousness really truly verily is, kind people out here!!!!

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26,770.20-255.70 (-0.95%) (last Friday, and my major DEATH ASSAULT, Sheriff K. J. Mascara, sir!!!!!! SEE? It never stops!

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All copyrighted material is that of the claimant, and is not a part of the claims of these blogs and the copyright thereof to them by me.

Entities of the mighty 'Millionth Council' or their Earthly counterpart, the MILITUFORCE, do NAUT like those such as me who begin to unravel things are figure them out using LAWTRONICALLY ACCEPTED QUANTUM DYNAMICS APPLIED TO REAL ACTUAL LIFE CIRCUMSTANCES, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!

OH BOY; MOM AND UNCLE BILLY.

Oct 10, 2019 7:00 AM – Oct 17, 2019 6:00 AM

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END TRANSMISSION.

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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Who can ever know the popularity in shade ratio any more, since this feature has been disabled? Oh well, I still can always make the following claim and statement:

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!!!

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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!!!

END TRANSMISSION.

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

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