AFTER
THE KNOWING, CHAPTER 9
2:14
A.M., ON MONDAY, DECEMBER 30, 2019
AFTER
THE KNOWING, CHAPTER. 9
2:14
ANTE'
MERIDIAN
MONDAY
MORNING
30
DECEMBER, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
MOUNTAINPEN'S
LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:
MONDAY,
DECEMBER 30, 2019
CURRENT
PHASE IS: WAXING 4:6
N.M.
WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 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.
THE
WEATHER IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA:
DATE----*****
TIME----*****
TEMPERATURE:----
HEAT
INDEX FEELS LIKE TEMP:----
HUMIDITY:----
WINDS:----
PREDICTED
HIGH:----
SKY
CONDITIONS PRESENTLY:----
RAIN
CHANCES TODAY:----
LUNAR
PHASE:----
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 FOR
THE PAST 65 YEARS,
WITH MAX-POWER AGAINST ALL PERSONS AND FORCES BEHIND THE ASSAULT ON
ME, DURING
THIS MONSTER ASS SUPER EARLY THANX-2-GIVENS DEATH SIEGE ASSAULT,
THAT BEGAN IN THE SUMMER TIME OF 2019. SCAN ALL ENEMIES CAUSING ME
ENDLESS MISERY WITH PROPERTY DAMAGE, APARTMENT DAMAGE, APARTMENT
NOISE, AIR ASSAULTS, PHYSICAL BODY ATTACKS, AND ENDLESS UTILITY
STRIKES, IN THIS MONSTER ICPE-APE-TECH ASSAULT FROM DONALD TRUMP; 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.
   |
It
will become quite obvious why this week will come out on Tuesday
afternoon as our FIRST (RED-STAR-NUMBER-8) RATING, on the STS
(Secrets thermometer Scale)!
When
all of this shit against me was getting started really strong, back
in the middle eighties; and then it exploded on one exact day,
which anyone whoever read these blogs knows this date only too well,
August 15, 1986; I kept a Life
Journal on cassette tape, and recorded my entire life in
REAL-TIME everywhere I went,
because I knew that I HAD TO DO THIS. This included anywhere
that I was inside of a residence, whenever out in my automobile,
whenever I was using my telephone, in other words, ALWAYS!
Numerous things happened as the years passed by in all of this. One
of several large things that simply was not something that could be
ignored or passed over as even remotely as part of an over active
imagination; was that the more things that were happening, and
the more I was reacting to them, the more some invisible FAWCE
somewhere began engaging me in some sort of beyond surreal and
unfathomable GAME. After this had all gone on a long time,
there was simply no escaping this new-reality
that I had been placed into. I did observe that certain unbreakable
rules were made a part of this game, and that I was totally endlessly
powerless to thwart the situation no matter WHAT
I EVER DID, or how HARD I TRIED TO THAT! The very same FAWCES
would play large games, as well as small games, and all games
in-between those sizes as well. Once a game was given to me, IT
WAS THERE. One such game was a game that the
Atlantic Ocean decided to play with me in the beginning of the summer
time in the year of 1997. Normally, while when I was swimming
on the Atlantic City beach areas that I would frequent, there were
two possible things that I would do. Either I would decide to swim a
while, or I would body surf-ride the waves a while. As soon as I
decided to swim however, nicer waves began to come out of nowhere,
that were far more conducive for body surfing (riding those waves).
But then as soon as I would begin body surfing, the waves would grow
instantly smaller, and less easy to catch and ride. So I would go
back to swimming, and then that same cycle of
endlessly teasing me would just go on and on and on, or to
quote my 1976 telephone conversation with the illustrious Mister Jim
Burr of SHARK-SHARK-SHARK GLOUCESTER CITY, NJUSAESMWG; the cycle of
this TEASING would endlessly and forever
CONTINUE, CONTINUE, CONTIUNUE, AND CONTINUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now
before we march this any further mother fucking along here, JANE
FILTHY SLUT-ASS WHORE DIRT-HOLE FONDA JUST NAILED ME AGAIN, WITH HER
GODDAMN ENDLESSLY TEASING ONES ASSAULT, WITH ANOTHER 'PAGE
ELEVEN OF ELEVEN', SO I MUST QUICKLY COMPENSATE
HERE!
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
So
back now to the 'SHOW', 'KAL-LEO',
CALL-TEN-CALLIO, of the CALLIO, MCGUIRE,
KING, MCGETTIGAN, MCGINTY, LEVY SQUAD, of any or all drunken
old bartenders, and NON-CARPENTER folks 'everywhere';
and with or without any audition and repertoire ladies in NYC,
Hurricane Hugo non T.S. Predictions, fantastic two line melody folk
songs hated by record promoter Lenny McKinnon or other disco tunes
loved by McDonald's lunch customers, or neighbors who were named, Sir
Neil Regan, of WILL-I-AM-ST-OWN, NJUSAESMWG:
I had to stop a moment or so to kill three tiny
nasty ass fucking roaches that began crawling all around me' goddamn
ass mother fucking computer work station area, yo BROadcasters
BRO, as well as the mighty SIR
MIKE ASSHOLE SOFT HELLWRECKER-SPELLCHECKER-PROGRAM!
Then
there was another in-transmutable and non alterable RULE
TO THIS ASTRAL-PLANE CREATED GASME GODS GAME, or so it
appeared, and still appears to be happening endlessly all around me'
fucking proximity. I call the first one that we discussed with
the Atlantic Ocean back in 1997, as one of countless examples,
the rule of THE GAME THAT PROVES ITSELF AS A
GAME, and I call this next rule, the RULE
OF REACTION TO INTENSITY RATIO. The reason for naming these
two will be obvious, when you read on just a few more lines. I
learned that if I DO NOT REACT to what is BEING
GIVEN TO ME IN THIS GAME, (done to me in
life), they will just keep stepping up
the intensity of the overall attack, until I
FINALLY HAVE NO MOTHER FUCKING CHOICE BUTTTT TO REACT TO THEIR
ASSAULT. So it is much much better to react hard and strong to
the little shit they do that just endlessly is annoying, in
order for me to avoid the MAJOR HEAVY ASSAULTS, that lead to a
totally destroyed automobile and or an accident, a major financial
disaster, a major crime against me, a major deal such as a fire
ruining an entire residence, a firing from a job, an assault, and so
forth!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is no beating this, and THIS DAMN GAME IS
ABSOULUTELY MOTHER FUCKING REAL, and there is nothing whatsoever that
I can do TO EVER GET THIS SHIT AROUND ME
STOPPED; because it is coming from what the Ancient
Astronaut Theorists
Society call, the ALIENS AND UFO ENTITIES,
and what the religious folks, and most of the Christians would call a
SATANIC ATTACK AND A DEMONIC LIFELONG
POSSESSION! Still and all, THIS WOULD MOTHER FUCKING NEVER
HAVE TAKEN PLACE UNLESS HALLS FAWCES had brought together three
people, or TWO PEOPLE AROUND ME, and these people are two Gloucester
residents, one a lifelong resident and one only a temporary resident,
and these two people are none other than Jim
Burr and Patricia Hollister!
Dennis Snyder should be here right now to chime in so absolutely
perfectly with his now globally known quotation of, “And that's
just reality, son”! TRUTH does not get more REAL or HONEST than
thissssssssssssssssss, lovely Erica Kane of the
ALL MY CHILDREN 1983 great soap show!
>>
MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3
Recently,
we have done some heavy cave exploring within the wild mountains of
Mountainpen's Exploratronic
Supermind
Society.
You have learned quite a lot over the past few years about the topic.
So does this not peak your curiosity to see just what this ESS did to
thwart my attempts to expose them to the multiverse of past times
where we all are pawns in their hands, and our entire societies, but
a mere game in the hands of gamers and other more dangerous peeps.
Recently you may or may not have seen some television shows that show
someone telling us, even though the show is fictional, we know we are
supposed to all derive a bit more out of it when this is spoken in
the show, that we do not know beans about all the deadly shit going
on all around us, with the most recent memory that I have, being
on an “SVU Law & Order'' show”.
Aren't you at all curious to see what happens when you type into a
GOOGLE
SEARCH,
as I
told you would be the case; just how the ESS covered their tracks by
putting some benign nonsense that connects up to the word Morianity
uses, EXPLORATRON; and unless you place in quotations, both
Morianity, and Exploratron; you will only get this (supposed first)
older version of things pertaining to this word, that I don't buy
into for one fucking tiny ass second. Let us try this again, just
typing in EXPLORATRON, on a Google Search, and see if anything has
changed, as I seriously doubt it, with the ESS there, making sure
that their mission indeed was and is, TOTALLY ACCOMPLISHED!!!!
But the really true mission of the ESS is only AN ASTRAL PLANE GASME
GODS GAME, because if the most powerful thing known to humanity,
Christian Salvation through the shed blood of the Lord Jesus Christ,
is really all just another powerful ASTRAL-PLANE GASME GODS GAME, and
it is I assure you fellow Earthers; then the ESS must also be! And
before anyone gets all pissed off and desires to come over and kick
my ass, remember that I remember the ASTRAL-PLANE, and you DO NAUT,
so watch those glass houses that all of you are living there,
BREEEEEEEEEE! Now something amazing has happened. They
went back into time and removed all the shit that used to be there
from my days in new Jersey, about this OTHER Exploratronic stuff.
Mind bending. Totally fucking mind bending. My stuff is not on the
Google either, you have to type in both exploratron and something
pertaining to my blogs, such as a name title of a blog, my screen
name of Mountainpen and other key words that if you put into a
quotation together, pops up lots of my stuff pertaining to this
topic. Still, it never comes up just from the word EXPLORATRON or
EXPLORATRONIC. One such example that will pop up is a 2009 Wordpress
Blog on the topic. There are dozens of other possible places to click
on. But the two rules that I have only begun to talk here, lovely
Karen Carpenter Latengrate sweetie pie, needs to have a wee bit more
shit added here before I close up for the damn ass day, yo folks! I
learned that I am able to at least make the HALLS FAWCES hold back
some of their otherwise major nasty-ass potential furry against me,
simply by using a two part engagement in this game between us and
using the second rule. I merely react stronger on the smaller shit,
give them their nice Astral Plane “Late Late Late Show” reaction
that they want, Sir Shakespeare, with all of us being the stage and
merely the players/actors; and if we are THISSSSSSSSSS, lovely Erica
Kane, then there must naut only be those such as you and I lovely
lady, but there must be some “audience” somewhere, hence, my
calling this, our entertaining some Higher-Plane Blogaudians and
'Astral-Plane Audience' that we can now
label as the 'Asplaudience'. This does not have to be some
exact thing, and I only am attempting to make tiny whittle 'pernts'
here and there in all of this shit; Sir Archibald Bunkerqueens, yo!
There are two obvious reasons for why the Astral-plane high energy
entities that we can call the GODS, and the Christians can call the
Angels; DESIRE TO PLAY THESE ENDLESS GAMES WITH OUR MORTAL WORLD. One
is to distract them from the beyond inconceivable hellishness of
endlessness. We all know that when we get into a really great
videogame, it is suddenly half a day later and it is as if no time
had passed. We even hear the mighty Jack McCoy make this statement on
a particular “Law & Order” episode while describing violent
video games such as the game that the teenaged boy played who killed
his classmate and his father ended up going to prison for
bad-parenting, or legally known as Reckless Endangerment and
Murder-2. He stated that he was playing with a family member and
wasn't even thinking of quitting at three in the morning, and I think
he called it, being mesmerized. My 'pernt' here 'Archie Sir', is
that GAMES will indeed DISTRACT,
and the Astral-Plane
is a spiritual condition
of ABSOLUTE TIMELESS
EXISTENCE, AKA 'ENDLESSNESS'!
To a human who is designed on a caporial level
to fear extinction, and thus DEATH, we don't get this truth,
and we never will unless we truly remember the ASTRAL-PLANE
or the PURGATORY, as the Catholics call
this spiritual locale. In a way they are more correct than the other
religions all combined, as where would Heaven
or HELL be if you think about it rationally, unless everything is
geographically so to speak, on some spiritual six directional map?
But staying on point here, we may naut get it; but when you are
thinking with your 'other head' and in
endlessness, YOU WILL GET IT, and the oppressiveness
of endlessness is absolutely and totally unfathomable!
But DISTRACTION is only one of the two
ways, and yes distraction, via PLAYING
CHALLENGING GAMES, but there is a second
thing happening, perhaps a lesser of these two, but it cannot be
counted out, and I wish to get into this a tiny bit. I will tell
you why I want to do this FIRST,
HOWEVER, kind folks! Over the past few days, I have had my ENTRIRE
APARTMENT STRUCK WITH SOME WILD PROPERTY DAMAGE ASSAULT “GASME
GAME OF THESE GODS, AND THEIR MILITUFORCE”.
I have roaches and rodents, but on top of that
horror, I have one stove-top burner that just stopped working for no
good reason, most likely one of the rodents was MIND
CONTROL MANIPULATED, via this horrendous fucking endless
GASME GODS GAME of the HUNTINGTON
CURSE, AND MOUNTAINPEN THE CHOSEN
HUNTINGTON; and naut only the burner is out but my bathtub
and shower drain is again on the fucking cunt fritz and is naut
draining out, and with an endless faucet leak on top of this
shit, I HAVE TO BAIL WATER OUT EVERY DAY TO AVOID A FLOOD; Governor
Desantis, Crooked Saint Lucie corrupt County of Florida, USA, ACLU,
State Attorney General lovely Mizz non-B.P. Moody, hahahahahaha,
since my whole fucking family is 'B.P.' HUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE
ass time, Sir Honorable Senator
Bernie Sanders! But we're naut done with this damage report yet. Me'
ENTIRE APARTMENT IS GROWING MOLD ALL OVER THE PLACE at every area,
and there is no stopping it,
Mister Star Ship enterprise Scottie, Sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I guess we
are both “going nowhere awfully fast”,
huh sir? So thissssssssssssssssss is why I am telling all these
incredible powerful secrets about the FAWCES and where they all truly
verily come from, me' kind folks! All I can do is keep bailing out
water with cooking pans, spraying mold killing bottles on walls and
tiles, and cook on three burners or use me' twustworthy microwave
oven, oh Sir Elmer Fwudddddd the gweat, yo! So while biker girl of
the nineties and R.A. Mizz Cheryl
Crow
sings her dance tune, about all she can
do; this is ALL
I CAN DO, along with try and keep saving
me' fucking cunt pennies, and try to get out of this horror on
steroids Patty-Hollister JRSS Building
from EARTHLY ASS 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 YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So back now to the HALLS
FAWCES, THE ASTRAL
PLANE, AND ADDING IN THE FASCITAR
AND LOVELY PATTY H.HOLLISTER H.,
AS WELL AS THE TRUE REALITY,
WHERE THE ASTRAL PLANE ALL CAME FROM, A.K.A. THE VOID
ZERO DIMENSIONAL INFINITY ITSELF,
that seems to be beyond humankind's abilities so far, to reasonably
rationalize with their very limited mathematical tools and scientific
methodologies, of so very much so-called fantastic 'sound logic'!!!!!
Physically
challenging games are always a powerhouse way to cause distraction
away from shit that surrounds us. Go to a great football game or
anything similar, and while there, you won't be thinking about how
you're going to pay your fucking rent, or buy your groceries or pay
your power bill. This is just one tiny example of the power
of distraction, using GAMES.
Both being a participant, as well
as merely an observing fan, of a
really truly fantastic remarkable game;
and this will indeed occur.
I know it, and I'll be damned to Dogtown if you don't all know this
perfectly well also, yo! So not just PLAYING or ACTING, but yes good
folks; WATCHING passively, these great games, will also bring us
large entertainment on a sufficient level as to cause us a DISTRACTED
ATTENTION AWAY FROM WHAT OTHERWISE WOULD BE PRESENT IN OUR AWARENESS,
AND ON OUR MINDS! So now we know these two things, how about a
powerhouse truth that goes beyond all of this shit? At the
zero-dimensional VOID INFINITY, WE EXIST and that IS ALL. We cannot
just EXIST, try not thinking, go ahead, sit quietly and concentrate
as hard as you can on NAUT THINKING ONE THING, NOT EVENABOUT YOUR IN
AND OUT BREATH. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING AT ALL. YOU CANNAUT. I CANNAUT. WE
CANNAUT. So at zero dimension, we CREATE. What right now you would
call 'THINKING', is 'CREATING' when you EXIST ZERO-DIMENSIONALLY. It
is naut like some damn machine or reaction or anything you can
possibly imagine, the process to this, I mean. It does not
instantaneously happen as a RESULT of us DOING ANYTHING. The reality
at 0-D is simply that the process of creation is THIS. You think, and
it is like swallowing food, you do it, the food goes down, only at
0-D, it is actually THE VERY SAME EXACT REALITY. Is there a way to
use the Fascitar to bring us to a recognition of our oneness state at
zero-dimension (0-D)? You bet there fucking is, or to make me' family
not too happy with me, I could say that old British Oil joke here,
you know, “You bet your British Petroleum” there is a way, or
shortened to a NON-velocitronic hold pattern that permits the big
bang to happen and a cosmic program of lawtronic induced reality to
come to be. The Fascitar can take us anywheerwe because we do naut
really GO ANYWHERE. The mind creates SEPARATION, separating space
causing the illusion of physical distance, and separating time
causing the illusion of physical changes. This is why space and time
and MIND is all really ONE TRUTH. And why naut Mizz Blake mahm?
After-all, it all comes from 'ONENESS'. Oh that
mighty “Fascitar”!!!
So
why did Jim Burr and Patty Hollister come into me' life, at an exact
near equally spaced point in time during my younger days, and why did
all of this shit all happen? Okay, so we've established without any
damn Harry Potter nonsense, that the answer here is simply, “The
resulting happenings of the GASME GODS GAMES”. BUTTTTTTTTTT
did we ever seriously look at some of the craziness behind those
OZ-CURTAINS that would make the great COINS and COILS of the
Purgatory or (Astral-Plane), wish to carry this all out exactly in
the way that they chose to do? Now remember, the Astral entities of
the highest energy-values are giant COINS and giant COILS, and they
are called the GODS, by the AAT society, and they are called the
Angels and the Demons, by those who have some type of a humanly based
religious system behind their thinking, but
either way, it is ALL THE SAME THING, very much as with that
fantastic original black and white television
show called, “The Outer limits”, and that episode with the
KXKVI Radio Station owner, who was in
communication with some alien, who taught him that GOD,
ELECTROMAGNETISM, and INFINITY were, “ALL THE SAME”. This
is a very accurate and extremely powerful piece of wisdom and
knowledge and awareness, proving to me beyond question or doubt
whatsoever that the great HOLLYWOOD is really an Astral Plane
GROUPATION, of combined and agreed on, mission goal-oriented
situation. They just couldn't know what they do without this being
completely true! Talk about the James
Redfield
Synchronicity
Syndrome
here people, so 'cut me a break' Mizz Margie
1985 Leo! KXKVI in the Roman
Order, scrambled a tiny bit, is the number of 2016,
and if also looked at carefully, the two “K” letters can stand
for KARGE-KRASSLE, which then leaves the XVI in perfect order, and
this is the Roman Numeral of 16, the actual AGE OF PINK GODDESS,
forever and ever and ever, in HER GREAT CITY
OF SAHASRA DAL KANWAL (HEAVEN)!
There is no way that radio station, fictional OR NAUT MIZZ AT&T
BLAKE mahm; can be anything other than a
powerful symbolic sign of the JRSS. 2016
was the fucking ass year that MORIANITY STOPPED FOR ONE QUARTER OF A
DECADE! I did not make that decision, and I did not grow
cataracts in my eyes by some random ass 'cherce', Sir Archie
Bunkerqueens! THAT's the simple PERNT that I need to be making here,
oh lovely world!!!!!!!!!!
People
can ignore me' Morianity all that they choose to, I have no damn gun
at anyone's rib cage. Butttttttttttttt folks, IGNORE
ME' AT YOUR
OWN PERIL, as I did predict an awful lot of shit, and I
told you about my family and lots of shit happened to prove that I
knew things I could naut have known if I wasn't, to quote me' school
chum Russ said, “4-REAL”, and I predicted the mess of TRUMP, and
on an don and on we can go, AND YOU ASLL KNOW THISSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!
SO
YOU DON'T MOTHER FUCKING BELIEVE IN MY MORIANITY, OR
ITS TEACHINGS CONCERNING THE GODS, AND THEIR ENDLESS FUCKING ASTRAL
PLANE GASME-GAMES, HUH WORLD?
WELL, EXPLAIN TO ME WHY I CONTINUALLY GET SHIT LIKE THISSSSSSSSSSS
HAPPENING IN ME' GODDAMN MOTHER FUCKING MISERABLE
ROTTEN ASS LIFE, FROM WOMB TO TOMB, YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(WHO
GIVES A RATS FUCKING SHIT ABOUT WEATHER)???
THE
WEATHER IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA:
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!
(WHO
GIVES A RATS FUCKING
SHIT ABOUT WEATHER)???
(WHO
GIVES A RATS FUCKING
SHIT ABOUT WEATHER)???
(WHO
GIVES A RATS FUCKING
SHIT ABOUT WEATHER)???
(WHO
GIVES A RATS FUCKING
SHIT ABOUT WEATHER)???
(WHO
GIVES A RATS FUCKING
SHIT ABOUT WEATHER)???
(WHO
GIVES A RATS FUCKING
SHIT ABOUT WEATHER)???
And
then the next day, I GET RATS IN HERE. YEAH WORLD, WHAT A
MOTHER FUCKING HUUUUUUUGE ASS IMAGINATION THE MOUNTAINPEN HAS,
YO!!!!!! Oh me' brother Able, so sorry for hitting you with that damn
ass rock. Yes lovely Sarah-Stacey JKK, I loved
Diana, and I still do, and I love you, and SHE is YOU,
and this game is really on me' last nerve!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THE
GASME GODS GAMES ARE REAL, and guess what, they
are all around all of you as well, in your own lives, and we all live
HARRY POTTER TYPE of magical lives, it
is merely that adults grow up one day and refuse to see the truth of
this any longer. The world of the subatomic where it all comes
from is ABSOLUTELY A MAGICAL ASS KINGDOM,
and you can ask any top university if that is a lie or the damn
truth. For at least another thousand years, WE
WILL CONSIDER THAT REALM ABSOLUTELY MAGICAL!!!!!!!!!! For lack
of a better way of telling this truth to people, “It
is A MAGICAL KINGDOM”, that IS what the world of the
SUB-ATOMIC is, it
is MAGIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AFTER
THE KNOWING, CHAPTER 8
4:08
P.M., ON SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2019
SUPER
MOTHER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY AGAIN FOLKS, BUT THEN, SOSO-WEIN-SSDD AND A
ZILLION MORE DITTO SOSO-WEIN-SSDD's following that as well???????????
Allow and 'permit me', sir ultimate illustrious latengrate
UNCLE HEINZ Gozzwald Gottwalt, of 175 Peninsula Drive, in
Baby-Blond (Babylon), New York, LINY, USAESMWG; to tell you why this
is another rotten ass fucking BOTBAR DAY; oh great people!!!!!!!!!
AFTER
THE KNOWING, CHAPTER. 8
4:13
POST
MERIDIAN
SATURDAY
AFTERNOON
28
DECEMBER, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
STICKY
AND CLOUDY WEATHER CONDITIONS, OUT AROUND ME' TOWN, YO.
I
awoke at just around two of the cunt lapping clock, on this totally
rotten disafsternoon; and when I went into my goddessdamn kitchen to
take my medications, A HUGE FUCKING RODENT
WAS CRAWLING AROUND. After I took my stinking rotten
medications, I DRESSED AND WENT STRAIGHT OVER TO MY LOCAL ACE
HARDWARE STORE, A FEW BLOCKS FROM THIS DEMONIC ROTTEN CROOKED
PUBLIC HOUSING
AUTHORITY BUILDING IN THIS TOTALLY CORRUPT FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA,
and I purchased a HUGE RAT TRAP
good for chopping large rats and small mice and any rodents into
pieces, when I place peanut butter on the trap, and lay it in my
kitchen. The small traps that I bought before did NAUT do the job,
Mizz Blake. This time however, I also
purchased many poison pellets that can be scattered all around this
entire fucking cunt lapping apartment. I also was able to get naut
just rodent poison pellets, but also some of those roach killing
large white pill pellets. The reason this did not work for me as well
as before I was told, is that these are naut good for 90+ days and
the pellets need to be kept tightly sealed in their boxes, and used
every two to four weeks at most, as after that, the poisonous effects
reduce to the point where the roaches just
enjoy the taste, but only get mildly ill, and DO
NAUT DIE, or go crazy, huh MIZZ AT&T
BLAKE, the way the MILITUFORCE
wants to drive me, huh lovely phone company lady from 1983, yo yo yo
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo mahm?????????????? I guess the great Mister
'Doctor Lockner Flint' of Medical Star Trek Center, has found some
competition for itself here, huh yo?????!!!!!
THE
GASME GODS GAMES are really getting on me' mother fucking ass “last
nerve”, Mizz Latengrate lovely Dawn-Marie King. If anyone reading
me' words, ever truly asks themselves if their own lives couldn't be
thought of as some invisible thing around them, totally playing A
GAME WITH THEM, in many instances, well; then
you are simply NAUT being honest with yourselves, and that's all
there fucking is to it, yo BRAH! With me in a much larger
fucking way, I totally can see that this entire goddamn
HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE bunch of horrendous and endless
dogshit nightmares surrounding my life, is nothing but a GAME, played
by bored to fucking tears mighty ENERGY-BEINGS, and also can be said
as (GODS/GODDESSES), on the TIMELESS ASTRAL PLANE, that yes, could
also be stated as, for purposes of the mighty McDowell phone-taped
calendar proofs that frightened me' poor mother a lot more than her
office co-worker Mizz Hollister ever did, the TIMELESS SATELLITE. We
will only go as far here as to say that a dim witted moronic fucking
small child with tooth pain would still be able to realize that this,
along with Sarah Jacobson from COOLEY HALL, Mister tutor SIMON of the
HTHS school, and Mizz Laughing-fits Davies of all ROYAL TUDOR'S, all
fits together in this naut so nice package, straight out of the gates
of DOGTOWN at the Dogtown
Bridge, in the Capitol Providence of the Astral Plane
known as Province-Olympia! One goddamn
fucking day when I was about twenty and one half years of age, and
living alone at the apartments that were on the second floor,
overlooking medical offices in Stratford, New Jersey; and across from
the Stratford branch of the Kennedy Hospital, on Laurel Road, just a
few blocks south of the Lindenwold PATCO High Speed-Line Train
Station, where I had alighted the train, and was waiting to catch a
bus at the station that would take me directly to the apartment as I
was lazy that day, and did naut feel like walking several blocks; and
before the bus came along, I got talking to an extremely gorgeous
twenty-four year old woman about the local transportation system, and
I know that I blogged this before, but I never told the real
powerful part of this story, because insufficient
foundations at that time had been laid. She was so incredibly
lovely that I didn't know 'here from there', and I got on a wrong bus
that took me west, down the White Horse
Pike, instead of south, down Laurel Road
to me' apartment. The traffic was tied up a bit on the WHP
(Route-30), and the bus had to move at a crawl rate. Just as it
passed Harvard Avenue in Somerdale where I came to live two decades
out in to the photon projection of the eternal now, or (the future)
as you all might say; the traffic light at the pharmacy where also I
came to use often when I would take my ATIVAN medications that
alleviate the unpleasant symptoms of me' choking condition that came
on me in June of 1983, the light turned red and the bus stopped, and
I happened to look down a side street to a house about two houses
down from the WHP. Standing on the porch
of this home, was beautiful giant SARAH
JACOBSON, from three years earlier at the illustrious
COOLEY HALL!!!!!!!!!! When I saw her,
she was able to see me too, even on a bus with
darkened windows, and from a good sixty yards away from me;
and then she spoke to me inside of my mind, and I heard her say to
me, “Hey you silly boy, you're taking the
wrong bus”. Then it dawned on me and only then, Jesus Christ
Almighty, I am on a bus heading for Philadelphia, and not on the bus
that goes down Laurel Road to me' whittle apartment. I jumped to the
front of it and exited at the very next block where a bus stop was
located. While living there twenty years or so in 'the future', those
buses no longer ran, and commuters merely took the train service into
Philadelphia rather than get off to transfer to the bus. That's why
me' mom had to walk to and from the Harvard Avenue DEATH HOUSE to the
PATCO TRAIN, to get to and from her office job in Philadelphia when
we bought that Somerdale home at the end of August of 1996. Moving
this along now, I began walking back towards Laurel Road, so that I
could then head south and walk home to my apartment, across from the
Kennedy Hospital there, and as I walked past that block where SARAH
JACOBSON made some beyond weird psychic contact with me while on that
damn ass bus; or 'telepathic', or “whatever”, since the great
Congressman in the future would have a local office right there in
the middle and hub of this entire mess; she yelled my name and said
to come over to where she was standing on this really huge porch of
an old home. When I got there, she laughed and reminded me of our
talks at COOLEY HALL and how she said that Watergate and politics was
all a gigantic part of my future. She told me to sit down on the
porch step, as there were no seats or chairs or any
place to sit down on the porch, or to quote me' great and
awesome Mike Soft HELLWRECKER spellchecker
here, there were no seats or chairs or any
place to sit downloaderChrome. She then told me to wait a
second while she got some lemonade for us to
drink, and she came out with two glasses and a pitcher of lovely
looking pink lemonade. As soon as I swigged down half a glass,
since I was quite thirsty from being in Philadelphia, applying for
some silly ass job, and almost instantly; I
dropped my glass and began to slump forward on the stoop area of her
porch. Then within what seemed two seconds later I somehow
told myself to wake up and sit up, and I bolted upright, only to me'
total ass amazement, I was coming up on my stop
on the bus, and it was the right bus, and it appeared that I had
gotten on the right bus all along, and somehow had fallen asleep,
and had this wild psychic experience or vision or WHATEVER,
and all within about a minute or less of REAL/E
TIME!!!!! I ran up and out of me' seat and off the bus, as it
was approaching me' stop at the apartments, where doctor offices
were all on the ground floor. Three days later I mustered up me'
courage and walked over to the house where this had happened in that
wild experience. The only person living there was an older couple who
seemed very nice, and assured me that they had no children, and that
they were the only ones who ever lived there for many years. The
amazing second part to this however is that when I told them of my
experience, and mentioned the
lemonade; the lady said to me, “Oh
that would never be us; my husband
cannot have citrus after his delicate stomach operation ten years
ago”.
This
part of the Sarah Jacobson story only has true power when the
original part is known, and I did blog a lot of it, including how she
predicted WATERGATE before one reporter HAD EVER BROKEN THE STORY and
before Linda Lovely Lovelace or her 'other Harrah's Casino strange
verbal doppelganger' had ever fucking come into play with any of that
political nightmare that once plagued our great nation. Then there
was the Jacobson Bridge on Hopkins Lane in Haddonfield, NJUSAESMWG.
This is where the stream at the Pennypacker Park runs down underneath
the bridge, and where the lovely giant SARAH and the kissing episode
all went down, along with poor Steve nearly losing his life to her
awesome Kitchen Patrol photon-projected come-along from Abseacon,
NJUSAESMWG; lovely D.Q. KATE!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
AFTER
THE KNOWING, CHAPTER 1
9:44
P.M., on Sunday, December 22, 2019
I
don't give a fucking rats ass bastard, Mister Cooley Eckstein
Voterboy, who comes up here anymore, because even if the fucking
count goes to 0-0-0-0, then these become major notes to myself that I
ABSOLUTELY NEED TO PERUSE in order to endlessly gain more wisdom and
insight into my, what Earthers may refer to, depending on whether
they're religious or scientific; spiritual supernatural problems, or
my UFO-alien woes. Either way, it is all the same, it comes straight
out of where we all exist endlessly, THE ASTRAL PLANE! I have major
fucking ELECTRONIC HACKING TODAY, AND THIS DAY IS SUPER
FUCKING CUNT ASS BOTBAR ON STEROIDS. BOTH MY COMPUTER
AND MY TELEVISION ARE BEING SCREWED WITH, BY WHAT RELIGIOUS PEEPS
CALL, SATAN THE DEVIL, AND WHAT 'MUFON'
AND THOSE ALONG THESE LINES WOULD CALL, ALIEN
WOES OF THE WORST KIND, AS A DIRECT CONTACTEE or the highest
number that the Milituforce assigns to peeps
like poor frail and elderly fucking cunt little me!
The
home in Atco was every bit as Senator Sanders HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE, as
was the prior residence of 1802 ROBIN HILL APARTMENTS in
Voorhees, NJUSAESMWG. This is where the Milituforce classified me as
a low rated “contactee of some numeration kind”, and as time went
along, they fucking weren't one bit shy of 'upping' me, huh Dock
Sagan? But Cooley Hall was the original locale where shit took place
that led to all of the other shit, even the shit on the Atlantic City
beaches and streets, all resulting from an educator who insisted with
absolute quintessential fervor that I come to the school on Memorial
day of 1969 to do a 'school play', altering my schedule of going down
to Atlantic City by about an hour or a little bit more, no big deal
you may say, wanna' make a cosmic fuckign wager on the truth of that
concept, anybwuddy????? How about you, Sir Elmer goddamn Fwudddddd?
The
dude I knew or thought I knew as NG-ADS, appears to not be who I had
thought. He gave me a sealed envelope to be opened when I got up on
December 22, 2019, and NAUT BEFORE, and he was every bit as insistent
upon this as was Misses Marola my Cooley Hall educator with that
school play. He is not “New Group Alpha-Deep-Six”, just New Group
Morianity follower, and no, unless he is a real super master of
disguises; he is not my 'follower', who is the only one with the
balls to admit to it. Some day, I truly believe this great dude will
have his reward for that, and I am not free to go on with that as
this would take me to about RED-STAR 19 or so! Still, a lot needs to
be said, as he predicted with absolute accuracy, about eight things
that came to pass since he handed me this note just shy of last
year's Christmas holiday time in my P.H. Authority's Community Room
where the mail is delivered. He told me that he hope I won't copy his
letter to me on these blogs, or even tell of these wild predictions
that all came true, right down to major things that I have recently
seen on the television system. But at the risk of angering this cool
dude, I must discuss one of these eight things, and that is, that
Patty-Paula would in some way, through what I label transdimensional
effects to which our Bibles describe as dream-interpretive abilities
as well as self fulfilling prophecies, and before I march along any
further, just as I was about to get up out of bed at just past noon
today, my electricity winked out for one quick half second or so, and
yes, the very first words in the letter to me went, “You're
electricity just went out for a very short burst of time, letting you
know that I know that you're reading my letter to you now, a year
away from when I handed you this note”. I literally almost shit my
pajamas. Also I had this note-letter hidden deep inside some trashy
old newspapers, as it was in a mid sized manila envelope, and I keep
a bunch of old newspapers on a chair at my far northeast corner of
this studio apartment, in case I need it for when I cut my hair over
my sink in the bathroom or for any other of a dozen possible needs
that may arise from time to time. After the mention of the power
failure, he said that my daughter would recently say something about
Patty that is meant for me to hear, and that I would indeed catch it.
I DID. He said that inside those few sentences, I would have a lot of
powerful things revealed once I am clever enough to “Get it”. I
am still thinking about this, and as of yet, I must confess that I do
not GET IT, but I will now keep on trying. I do not know if she lives
still or has passed on, and I'll bet even really big fans don't know
either. This is a world of secrets, as everyone knows only too damn
well. You can never trust the news media or the goddamn internet
either. That much even retard little fucking failure me knows 100%!
Still, that nightmare where I was back at Jenny Plageman's trailer
with J.L.H. As a 'well behaved or not so well behaved' tenant, is
quite a major Biblical Prophet Daniel JRSS connection to many things.
But this will only scratch a surface of an iceberg 1000 miles thick,
even if I type on an don all night fucking ass long. If indeed PHHH
has gone on or as morianity calls it, ending her PHHH dreaming
sequence, and is in Purgatory as whoever SHE TRULY IS; only I
understand the full impact of that reality, and trying to
make anyone else get it, is a total fucking waste of my time. Still,
in this dimension and particular universe where I am here living as
this Mark Wayne Mohr, I can assure the world, as well as my own damn
self, that I have never ever been in any way remotely or otherwise,
connected with any groupation of humans, that
would be considered to be a street gang, by any law enforcement
agency. So this is where Daniel the dream interpreter would
come in to filter through all of the damn 'inter-space-static' that
Morianity calls both Towel Seepage Effect as well as
Hyper-space-Mechanics, (TSE)
(HSM)! Now all of these things pale in
comparison to how I truly know that HALLS FAWCES have used several
people and situations in order to accomplish this major inconceivable
shit that I am now going through, and have been suffering through in
smaller degrees, ever since I popped out of my mom more than
sixty-five years ago now.
Now
this dude told me to re-listen to my copy of my most recent musical
project. I indeed did make a copy for both myself as well as to send
to the Copyright Office, and my copy is still on cassette tape, and
yes, the copy that I sent to them was old school as well on cassette
tape. I just got finished listening to it, as it is lengthy, and the
tune “You'll Be Crossing Over” was
the title track song. I observed recently that my MIND WAS M2F
HACKED, when I was confusing that song with an earlier song called,
“Wanna' Spend My Time”, that came to me in transdimensional
hyperspace in the year 1997, right around the very same week and
number of several days, where I also had the wild interaction where
my daughter sang that song and then she had also sent me two letters
in the mail, and also the Prize Patrol from the Publishers
Clearinghouse had stopped at my door and I had won the big prize, all
three of those things were part of one gargantuan several day long
serial dreaming experience. I have blogged all of this upon numerous
occasions. Also, the actual winner of the prize that January in 1997
around Superbowl Time, was a coed by the name of K. J. McAllister.
McAllister Oil had given my mom and I a huge bad time along with
Landlord Sir Richard Barf-Karpf, while living on Route 70
the Marlton Pike, in Cherry Hill, the
same time where all of this began in 1986, including the trip into
the big apple where my pal Sir Dave Roth went to see his pals, some
new musical group by the name of MEW SHOES, and where my blogs
then went onto get the name of KING NEBNOOSHOO,
all having to do with King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, and my Uncle
Heinz Gottwald, and Aunt Ruth Huntington Gottwald had lived
for decades, up on the great long Island,
at 175 Peninsula Drive, in Babylon. But before I even start the
tiniest fuckign dogshit about all of this including SARAH and the
memories coming back of youthful times, Haddonwood
Health Club, its owner Sir Tony Zenun,
and huge transdimensional horseshit that
connects into this entire rotten nasty
stenchy mess from Dogtown; I will discuss this horrendous
UTILITY ASSAULT TODAY with my
television. I have been screwed with for decades with SOUND, not so
much video, but always SOUND, SOUND,
SOUND, SOUND!!!!!!!!!! No matter what I did, while
watching some TV earlier, and in-between doing many things that I've
discussed so far on this blog; I lost my stereo signal, and there is
no way to restore it. At first I lost my entire side of audio, no
matter what I did to trouble shoot the mother fucking problem.
I tried different RCA connector wires. I tried different ways of
connecting up the system that includes the COMCAST TV box, the TV
set, the DVD-VCR machine, the headphone connection plugs, and on and
on, even different headphones, but nothing worked and then things
would work for a short while, maybe ten to twenty fucking minutes,
and then poof, the shit reverted back to losing one side of the
sound. The only way to keep a stereo signal was to connect it all up
to an old system that I purchased when I first came to Florida, at a
pawn broker shop. This is a very old eight track system, and it is
not designed for connections from a digital TV service, and the
hum
is very loud,
even
when grounded
into the nearby metallic pipe, that runs a 220 volt wire from a power
source in the walls, into the heater-air conditioner system.
This allows both a left and a right channel to come out on the
headphones, but a horrendous hum is there even when played directly
through a Radio Shack sound mixer that is really a baby toy, even
though it is a four channel stereo mixing device. Even with the EQ
effect sticks turned down to the lowest possible attenuation of
decibels, the hum is there, and this makes enjoying the television
simply not fucking possible. No matter what other connections I do, I
have to unplug one of the wires of the RED/WHITE RCA connection cord
in order for any spoken words to come out. Somehow, the transmission
of signal divides speech from fucking non-speech sounds, and only by
unplugging one side, will the entire transmission be delivered to my
TV and then my headphones. Now both sides
for some reason will play even with one side unplugged, but NOT
IN FUCKING STEREO.
When you are used to stereo sound, mono sound is approximately like
going in the video concept, from color, back to 'black and white'
viewing. IT SUCKS, but I can at
least watch the damn TV. Now for a month or more, this sound problem
comes on me, INTERMITTENTLY, and it always conforms to when /Donald
dirtbag Trump needs to sure up his magical life using
parallel event against poor cousin Mark, or ICPE-APE-TECH, as
my many many long winded blogs have told about now for a decade and a
half or so. I knew that damage had been done by a powerful
electronic signal transmission, nothing at all for the fucking
goddamn MILITUFORCE to accomplish. Just because the
technicians and the trade schools don't fucking teach COVERT
BLACK-OPS TECH regarding
electronics, doesn't mean that
mountainpen is a nut case crackpot for making these claims, as
I know absolutely that these words are true and absolutely real and
honest! Way back in Atco, and up through my time at HIGHVIEW
Apartments the first of two times living there, or early in 1983 from
middle 1986; I observed that the M2F was
continually CONENCTED TO ME, ELECTRONICALLY. They could
endlessly fuck with me, just as they also do by AIR,
by HEALTH ASSAULTS, by other HUMAN
INTERACTION USING MIND CONTROL, by UTILITY
ATTACKS, by PROPERTY DAMAGE, by
keeping me endlessly OPPRESSED AND FINANCIALLY
WRECKED, and the list literally reads on and on and on, and
exceeding what most folks call a LAUNDRY-LIST,
only ON FUCKING CUNT DAMN STEROIDS!
This is truth, so help me Almighty Lordess Neecy (SARAH-STACEY)
Jehovah Krassle, the ALMIGHTY PINK GODDESS,
who by the way CAME TO ME IN A WILD SHORT
DREAMING INTERACTION JUST LAST NIGHT,
and reminded me to open up and read the note from who I'll now call,
NEW GROUP LEADER, since he is absolutely not 'AD6', and this
upset the Central Intelligence Agency,
so I do not mean to ever do that, as I happen to love my mother
fucking nutty ass country!!!! SHE also reminded me that if I ever go
back into that EDEN-INTERACTION, and
decide to NOT ASK HER to spare the world as I did originally, THINGS
WOULD BE
CHANGED, and
that I am truly the most powerful person on the Earth-planet, despite
illusions of this absolutely NAUT being so whatsoever, because I
always have this back up emergency plan in my pocket. SHE'S
RIGHT!
I
could go on and on as stated earlier on all of the shit I've already
spoken of on this blog, and I won't, not right now today. Still, even
if it angers the NGL, I have to tell one thing that is major beyond
any amount of swallowed dogshit that is regurgitated, and is then
again, re-swallowed. He says that in 1980, after moving
into the FARM OUTSIDE OF HADDONFIELD
or (Robin Hill Apartments) same diff; that
I did two huge things that got back to Mister Marcucci,
through a neighbor pal of yours, who moved to Atlanta, and was in the
military service, & who was extremely jealous of me because his
wife and her girlfriends referred to me as, 'that white hot new
neighbor', all throughout the summer of 1980, imagine that? It seems
that they heard me transferring some of the
BEATLES MUSIC from a job at RPL, that was being done, and I
was placing it onto my open reel tape for my own collection, and that
they heard both that, as well as an amazing (faked) phone
conversation between myself and Shorty
MacInvondi, where he was threatening me, and calling me a “hot
shot” and upsetting me, and it really was a wild incredible
tape that I doubt anywhere in Hollywood that anything close to this
has ever been done. Somehow it got back to Paul McCartney, and I
don't wish to further upset the daughter of the astronaut, or little
Opee from Mayberry; but it seems that this is
why three years later, he used the basic part of my song that
began, “Just when I found the perfect one,
the one that would love me so”, on his hit song about
“loving her so bad”. I thought that
I was imagining this, but it seems that a musicologist friend of the
'NGL' dude, didn't think so at all. Still, when I copyrighted
my DEMOS, as well as began telling
Lenny McKinnon the record promoter, that I had met through the Chief
Recording Engineer of RPL, Mister Howard Solomon, that “I
would get him the Beatles if he
would just get off of my back”, and I wasn't really serious
about this, nor did I even recall the old days much, back at Cooley
Hall at that time, as I'd grown up, and tried to move on into my
adult life by then, and was 25
years of age, but ever since
I moved into 1802 and then did those
two goddamn things almost immediately; forces
around the entire galaxy went totally Joe Paget Postal, and
this was the real reason that between this as well as Paula King
learning of my young adult life activities, that all of this
nightmare began to surround me at the speed of damn light. Marcucci's
exact words to Paul, lovely Mizz Lovell, were, at least according to
NGL; “We didn't want him to figure things out yet, not ahead of the
intended schedule”. Like fucking shit eating
MEGA TERRA W-O-W, huh lovely Oprah
Spoon-Dancing Winfrey! Only it seems things don't stop here by
any stretch of the mind or the anti-mind either, all 'FLYERS'
and all 'NECK BITE' SORES, on any
Japanese or non-Japanese floors or levels of signal speed
changes!!!!!!!!!!! WHA-HA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
SIR MCNULTY.
Back
in 2013 I copyrighted my most recent musical project as the world
knows by now, or the WORLD OWNERS
and secret agents who travel the world over continuously, so
WEEEEEEEEEEEEE, Sir Chester-Frank, yo! The name of the project was
called, “YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER”,
and I am sure this ain't a mystery to anyone. Still,
NGL wanted me to re-listen to the entire project on this day, and I
did, and totally new ideas came to me,
since I have now transferred my ETERNAL NOW into late 2019 and no
longer connect into the dreams that I was having where a wall
calendar displayed a year called 2013. This is the way with all of
us, and most definitely NOT JUST ME. I doubt more than 100 people
truly understand that we are simply in an endless now even on a
physical plane of so-called 'human life', and on this plane, yes we
have real matter, real caporial life, or the powerhouse illusion of
it anyway through the magic of dividing our true awareness and
reality by the speed of light squared. There is
only an ENDLESS NOW, along with PHOTON MEMORIES 'behind' us, and
PHOTON PROJECTIONS 'ahead of us'. You can argue all you want
that cities exist where long ago it was all just woods and on and on,
and you now have grown children that when you were in the fifth grade
you did not have, and I will argue back with you, hey dummy, ETERNAL
NOW is all that there is, and riding on a beam of light that we all
think of as REALITY, is both the past behind us that is nothing more
than memory within that photon beam, and the future ahead of us that
is nothing more than potential interactions in an inconceivable
programmed simulationogram. The damn mathematics is there to
absolutely back up these words, and no one wants to hear the truth!
They never did, and they threw the KING OF
TRUTH on a damn cross, and he
never dared to tell anything like this. He could have of course, but
even my 61st grandfather's Uncle Jesus DID NAUT DO IT!
Yes
the great last musical project from when I was dreaming here that it
was July of 2013 and when I threw it into the mail on the 3rd
day in month number 7, and how the great cousin of John BonJovi, Sir
Tony, and his Sound Engineer Sir Ryan, helped me take a phone
conversation with my daughter, at the age of 14 years, while she was
faking out to be a Lab-Technician at a throat specialist's office,
just off of Grant Avenue in Northeast Philadelphia; as well as how
things fit into my ATCO days, and so much more; will
take years more of endless blogs, just to get to the damn surface of
it all, let alone begin to actually cut
through this thick ice cube of the non-Christ-droid 12th
Planet; oh great mighty fucking 'WFMU'
Crackpots from New Jersey Internet
Radio! For right now, I told how during the period where I
went off the grid, and stopped my blog for a quarter decade of time,
and was playing Morianity through an open circuit dead line
telephone; which absolutely has an effect on reality, and the
MILITUFORCE knows it beyond one speck of
fucking cunt doubt; and how suddenly my tape machine stopped
working, and the sound was shot, out of the
blue, because I WAS CRASHING THEIR
GODDAMN FUCKING WORTHLESS BILLIONAIRE CRIMINAL STOCK MARKET, USING MY
PARALLEL EVENT TECHNOLOGY; and I could no longer do
this, as I am too poor to replace broken shit that gets done to me
by an endlessly powerful force of total scum, AKA
the WOMO. While playing with some electronic circuits just
recently, from taking apart several machines that I purchased from
the 'HARVEST', back in 2010 and
2011 while employed there, or actually as a volunteer there, through
a government stipend from Washington, DC, connected with the AARP
system, and I used some of my knowledge on making these weird
circuits, that seem to be able to cause REALITY
ITSELF TO ALTER, and although I could
not restore STEREO to my TV system, I totally repaired the fucking
damage that the MILITUFORCE did to my tape deck that was a
threat to their DOW JONES STOCK MARKET,
and of course the HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE BULL MARKET took off after both
this as well as sending my music project for
COPYRIGHT, as the
parallel event for doing that is always always always a SUPER
BULLISH FUCKING RUN, and this has held true for forty
years almost, yo! This is the one mystery that even current almost
2020 MORIANITY has not solved. The M2F hates me doing music yet THEY
LOVE A BULL STOCK MARKET and an endlessly POSITIVE ECONOMY, and for
the first time we have gone a decade plus, without a fuckign
recession in America, and they have hurt me worse than EVER EVER
EVER, to get this and to get their diseased mother fuckign way, this
evil sicko slime ball GROUPATION THAT MORIANITY CALLS THE WORLD OWNER
MILITARY UFO FORCE ORGANIZED TRASH AGAINST MARK MOHR, and shortened
to the WOMO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But the ultimate and unfathomable
fucking mystery is then, WHY DO 'THEY' STOP ME
ENDLESSLY FROM MAKING MY MUSIC,
especially since I do not write music in
current day marketable style,
and so it won't make me any real money ever, and this is the real
NO-NO thing, me having any fucking cunt money whatsoever, yo!!!!!!!!
SO WHY THEN?????????? EVEN SIR NGL (New
Group Leader) has no answer for this
big query!!!!!
The
great Philadelphia Wireless Trade School if they're still out there,
has no clue about what electronics really truly is, but the mother
fucking dirt bag evil twisted MILITUFORCE DOES!!!!!!!! And this is
why I am being persecuted and harassed to my death by this groupation
of total sick slimy scum, and why they have wiped out my entire life,
AND THE MUFON PEEPS KNOW IT, and yet,
even
they don't seem to care, and Sir
NGL has a powerful explanation. Even they are scared of
certain things, and the ultimate threats against several peeps who
truly wish to help me with all of this, including my local Sheriff;
just will not
take the risk of having their entire lives and the lives of their
entire families tortured and eventually destroyed and obliterated.
Dennis Snyder oh great sir yo, even you couldn't say it with enough
vigor or appropriate force right now, even if you were right here at
my shoulder where
the DEATH ANGEL seems to love to hang around so damn often.
Even you would be absolutely inadequate to properly say your somewhat
now world famous great quotation, still sir, I'll say it. “AND
THAT'S JUST REALITY, SON”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
will no longer be checking stats on this blog nor posting photos, so
whoever killed so much of my blog can go STRAIGHT
TO FUCKING DOGTOWN.
From now on, this is my own notes, and if people want to read them,
fine, and if now, S-C-R-E-W ALL
OF YOU's!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOUR LOSS, because
someday this entire world will ABSOLUTELY NEED MY MORINAITY OR IT
WILL BE DOOMED, Mister
Eckstein. You
mocked me when we talked about whether I would be voting in my adult
life. I blogged this a long while back, I remember distinctly doing
this. 'll bet you never thought all of this would happen. Sarah
Jacobson knew that it would though. Some fucking hacker just tried to
screw up the font on this blog, SHERIFF MASCARA, but we don't want
anything to happen to you, so don't worry about my blood being on
your hands, I shan't hold any of this against you for not rendering
me any official assistance. I always knew that people were getting
either mind
controlled, paid
handsomely, or being
threatened like in
that great OTHER-'TMC' movie called “Cash On Demand”. Logic
dictates it is always going to be either A,
B,
or C,
huh Mike Jackson, yo? Oh yes, if not paid or threatened, then
definitely MIND CONTROLLED, and just what is mind, and how can it be
manipulated? Hey, how can electronics change the entire planet in a
lousy century the way it has? I know and I have the fucking answers.
And they were smart enough to use the greatest deceiver tool in the
bag, 'gradualism'. It began with the telegraph, and it is now up to
present moment with Internet and Social-Media. Still, anyone dumb
enough to believe that major shit, lat alone little ass minor fucking
shit, just happens all by its whittle lonesome, well; then
you damn DESERVE TO REMAIN IN YOUR IGNORANCE and dirty ass
bath-water, yo
BRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!
No
more photos, no more ugly me to look at, no more “hahaha's”, no
more nothin' and no nothin',
right
lovely DIANA???????
Hey, I am not crying over any spilled fucking rotten toilet water,
not even when it overflows onto an extremely expensive carpet such as
those at Buckingham Palace, OH
MY QUEEN! So why
YYYYYYYYYYYYYY, did you tell me all these things, JIM, and for that
matter, lovely Patricia Bite-Throat Hollister Howard?
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???????????
These
ILLEGALS
in #608
are still slamming!
And
the fucking time is now 1:23 AM, SIR 'IMM PC'!!!
NO
MORE STS, JUST MAJOR ENDLESS TELLS!
END
TRANSMISSION, YO!
THIS
WORLD IS FILLED WITH BEACH PIGS!!!
SOURCE:
TWC (THE WEATHER CHANNEL)
TIME
AND DATE: --- @ ***** lll *****
TEMPERATURE
CURRENTLY: --- ** DEG. FNHT.
CURRENT
LOCAL SKY CONDITIONS: --- ***
HEAT
INDEX ON SKIN: --- ** DEGREES-FNHT.
HUMIDITY:
--- **%
BAROMETRIC
PRESSURE: --- **.** lll
WINDS:
--- *** ** **
VISIBILITY:
--- ** MILES
PREDICTIONS:
--- lll
MY
ASSWIPES ACROSS THE HALL ARE SLAMMING THEIR DOORS AT QUARTER PAST
FIVE A.M., AND ANNOYING ME TO DEATH; OH SHERIFF SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
STILL, it is now time for
the Mountainpen to go beddy-bye, butTERCHEESE
and big ass BUTTERCHEESE BUTT and just plain ass BUT,
I will indeed be getting into a lot of things that I never told
about, naut only the incredible 'FASCITAR', but how that, along
with the MAGICAL-PULL of PATTY AND JIM,
this entire GASME-GODS-GAME appears to be working out, such as I have
come to see that these GODS want me to do this FUCKING MORIANITY
PROJECT, and when I do not do it the way that they want me to, they
then pour on the persecutions that I get, to make me do it. If I then
stop it all together, they make it even worse and BRING MY WORST
NIGHTMARES INTO FRUITION, THE ELECTION OF MY WORST
ARCH ENEMY
AND DISTANT
COUSIN,
TO THE
WHITE
HOUSE.
I cannot win, and am damned no matter what I do, or do naut fucking
cunt do, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So “Ain't life grand”, to quote the
Latengrate Sir David Charles Roth, of Philadelphia???????
'THE
END'; ALL GREAT & PRETTY SAVANTS!
No comments:
Post a Comment