Mark
Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr
©
2006-2019, 'BOM' (Blogs
Of Mountainpen)
ANY
PASTED IN POSTS WITH OWNER ©'s ON THEM, ARE THE SOLE PROPERTY OF THE
CLAIMANT, AND WILL BE REMOVED UPON RECEIVING NOTICE TO DO SO.
AND
NOW I KNOW THAT I KNOW,
CHAPTER 27
5:31
ANTE'
MERIDIAN
SUNDAY
MORNING
1
DECEMBER, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
MOUNTAINPEN'S
LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:
SUNDAY,
DECEMBER 1, 2019
CURRENT
PHASE IS: WAXING CRESCENT 5:7
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 L.Q.
WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 WNC7 N.M.
I
have given up spraying pesticides in my apartment. It is only making
me sick and the roaches are laughing at me. I know that very soon I
will get into my car and just as I did ten years ago in Jersey, I
will take the fucking clothes on my back and disappear forever out of
this horrible rotten ass Florida, and that will be that, Mister
Esolph.
::::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
THIS ASSAULT ON ME, WITH
THIS DAMN HORRIBLE EARLY THANX-2-GIVENS
DEATH SIEGE, BEGINNING IN
AUGUST OF 2019, AND IS ONGOING UP THROUGH THIS DAY OF 1 DECEMBER, IN
2019, USING
AN ENDLESS ROACH INFESTATION
AND MINIDROIDAL INVASIONS, AND
THAT IS ALL A PART OF AN ENDLESS 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.
PREVIOUS POSTS FROM NEARLY 14 YEARS EARLER
Many
times on many blogs, I discussed units of misery given me by my
enemies, the MILITUFORCE. I also
mentioned how I was discussing this somewhere
around the summer time in 1997 with the Assistant
to Congressman Robert Andrews, a Mister Clarence Harris, near
his home in Sicklerville in Jersey, USA, at a local play area and
hoops court. He was the one who brought up this wild and weird topic
and was telling me that he could always escape serious problems that
he was having by moving, but that they were always replaced with
totally new ones that caused him just as much pain and misery and
that there appeared to almost be an intelligence working behind this
mysterious groupation of OZ-CURTAINS. This is when I blew his
MARCUCCI-MIND, by telling him that I knew precisely what he was
referring to here and had the very same thing as well always going
down around me as early as I could remember being here in present
persona. Speaking of 'mathematical formulas and life-reflecting truth
through powerful mathematical equations meticulously kept; I had an
entire book of graphs and charts on just this very thing. I had come
to learn that what I called and named, “MISERY-UNITS” was
anything but made up fictional delusion, and that it could be
absolutely accurately measured. There most fucking cunt definitely IS
an INTELLIGENT FAWCE that literally BRINGS HORRIBLE DAMN MISERY to
certain people, me being one of them, and I think it was happening
with Sir Clarence Harris as well. But there is a little more to this.
Despite the illustrious and mighty Mister Pedersen, me' ol'
X-bizz-partner in that stupid ass mickey mouse record company called
STUDIO PARK RECORDS, who told me several times quite damn imfatically
that I was always too deep and did not seem to know how to keep
things on more of a surface level; this is indeed deep and cannot be
kept there. To know with total full assurance that indeed some
invisible covert intellect wants to keep certain people down and
oppressed from fucking ass womb to tomb, and does this by employing
units of misery, is no surface kept deal. This force and intelligence
has a motive and purpose and agenda and is more insistent and
tenacious about doing it than any ten quintessentially tenacious
people all put together ever were. But my real major point here is
that this same force or spiritual groupation of dark and evil
entities referenced in numerous ways biblically; DOESN'T CARE ONE
TEENY TINY MOTHER FUCKING IOTA how the misery is actually delivered,
ONLY THAT IT IS GIVEN and given absolutely FAITHFULLY and
RELIGIOUSLY, using that last term quite literally as well as just
goddamn figuratively, yo! The MILITUFORCE is using that mother
fucking major ANNOYING (SPACE-BAR-HACK) like it is going out of
fucking dirtbag style a week from today, me' BRAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
Jane
SLEAZEWEEDSDISEASE Fonda is hitting me hard lately with the
ONES-ASSAULT
she loves doing to me, or that the HALLS FAWCES love doing to me
THROUGH HER AND HER UGLY BASEBALL PARK NIGHT CLOCK ATTACK FROM THE
SPRING OF 1993! I will need to goddessdamn compensate, yo!
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
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Yes
folks, I am all out of RAID just as the great 80's music band (AIR
SUPPLY) was “all out of love”. Now I will save money by not
buying any more of this shit since it absolutely ain't mother fucking
working; oh great FLORIDA BOARD OF HEALTH! Hopefully I will get some
relief by following some of that great GOOGLED-UP instruction for
combating these rotten ass mother fucking (STUBBORN) diseased cock
roaches, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!
Now
let's talk a while about the great and mysterious COOLEY HALL,
that I entered at the very
same time that I had that wild experience on that PATCO TRAIN
where I knew that, “This
is where it all begins, AGAIN, as I have been looping around in this
nightmare for nearly ten millennia of combined time”,
and I
also remembered the hellishness of it so vividly
that I enter each time it starts fresh again, into what I name, “MY
BITTER STAGE”,
and with EVERY
FUCKING GOOD REASON for doing so;
yo BROADCASTED
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It began with this paragraph, so let me paste it in for a quick
reminder, and then we will proceed onward a bit. On my original New
Jersey blogs from 2006 through 2009, I talked a lot about my time in
school and my education and all the weird crap surrounding it. Paul
Simon the Recording Artist
said it all, in his great 1973 hit song, 'Chrodochrome'.
When either one of us thinks
back on all this high school crap,
to quote his fantastic song lyrics verbatim yo, “It's
a wonder that we can think at all”.
Still, I told many things including how right after I left the COOLEY
HALL,
the entire Philadelphia news media and television crews seemed to
descend on the place,
and were talking to lots of my classmates that were of course still
there, after I had left in the
end of January in 1973!!!!!!!!!
I
told all about one of my head shrinkers at the COOLEY
HALL, Doctor
Garrigan,
who when
I first met him had not yet received his doctorate degree, and thus I
knew him in the beginning as just Mister
Garrigan.
Then there was the fellow after he had moved onward and upward, and
left the great HALL, Mister
Merker Songwriter.
I speak of the great
and
non-OZ
powerful,
Mister
Eckstein.
He is the man who decades later on in my mid life, and in my mid life
crisis days with SARAH, may I add; and yes Mike Soft, mayonnaise
and butterflies
and butter-cheese,
and a BIG ASS BUTT and but, he was instrumental in my being able to
get on my Social Security Disability bennies so easily, and passing
through it the very first time along with my telling one of the
shrinks that I had to see, before being placed onto disability in the
autumn of 1994; all about the great WORLD
LABORATORIES,
and many other Robin Hill destructive town secrets, tweeting robins,
and so much damn ass more, yo BRO! Naturally I can only keep opening
small little things here right now. Still, a necessary foundation is
mandatory if I have even the remotest chance of ever successfully
telling my entire tale, being believed by a few who may desire to
help me in many things, and eventually obtain some global as well as
LOCAL VINDICATION!
What
will I tell you about these great head doctors, Garrigan
and Eckstein,
that will truly tie so HUUUUUUUUUUUGELY into so many things told so
far, in these now 14 years of this Morianity Project? Well, let's
fucking begin at the beginning or as the great old tune would say it
so well in their lyric title, let's begin the beguine. I think I have
correctly used and spelled that, but who knows for crying out loud?
Boy do I just adore these asshole door bangers!!!!!!!!!!!!! Forgive
me' o' sarcasm here, pweeeeeze folks out here. THANKX, and yes, we
will begin with why I call THANKSGIVING (Thanx-2-Givens), and we will
do it right here and right now, oh lovely Loo Anita VB of the
wonderful and fantastic L&O TV show!!!!
When
I was in that HELLISH QUEST TO LOCATE TEEN-QUEEN SARAH KRASSLE MODE
back in the middle nineteen-nineties, I was doing what all great
detectives and LEO peeps do. Lotsanlots of fucking LEGWORK, talking
to lots of people, the whole sticking the nose in lots of peeps bizz
101 deal, and making a major fucking pest of me'self, yo. I tried to
talk to a whole lot of people in the Atlantic City area all the way
down to the southern neighboring shores of wealth Longport,
NJUSAESMWG. I spoke to Robert Rufalo the antique dealer, I tried to
speak to the dad of a famous shock-jock, I tried to talk to bizz
owners and tavern owners, including Robert McGuire, and I attempted
to speak to a resident who lived in the magical dreamworld building
of green and white, that round building at the northeast corner of
Atlantic City at the old Captain Starns Inlet, now of course called
the TRUMP Marina!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I left a dozen messages
to PLEASE CALL ME, and the mother fuckers were too stuck up to talk
one damn lousy minute to a poor lovesick person going out of his
mother fucking mind with agony and QUINTESSENTIAL
HELL,
by its very definition meaning of SEPARATION FROM ALMIGHTY GODDESS
(GOD) as in the realm of energy, there is no male or female or mother
or father, and whether Christians hate this truth or NAUT Mizz Blake
from AT&T, that is just REALITY SON!!!!!!!!!!! Still folks, the
name of those asshole pricks who refused to so much as ever return my
messages and pleas for a call back, was GIVENS, and they attended the
Atlantic City High School that is quite famous or was before the new
age modern one was built just west of the Rufalo cousin's great
automobile dealership by that GREAT PIPE! Thanks to those rotten
pricks the Givens's, and other horrible people like McGuire and still
others as well, I was never given one bit of help in my feeble
pathetic pitiful attempts to find my long lost teen queen,
SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, who WAS HERE on Tennessee Avenue just
as SARAH in the middle through the late nineteen-sixties, and then
POOF, just vanished out of sight, out of mind, and OUT OF ANY HUMAN
BEING'S MEMORY, except MINE!!!!!!!!!!! For such an incredible super
girl goddess to not even be remembered by a single fucking soul when
she was there for half a decade and was part of a small store on that
street, is not possible, unless as I suspected all along, she really
truly and verily WAS THE GREAT GODDESS MIDDIE, SSJKK, ALMIGHTY
JEHOVAH, OWNER OF THE METAVERSE OR THE
SIMULATIONOGRAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So when I say THANX-2-GIVENS, I
mean just that, THANKS A LOT, GIVENS SCUMBALLS! This is no joke, and
it never was a joke, any more than those horrible fucking long Island
frightening stairs where everyone was being chased around in that
wild horrible repressed memory that worked its way into my conscious
memory through inconceivable nightmares in the year of 2008 more than
eleven years ago now, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo me'
BRAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
These
mother fuckers are driving me crazy with these endless cunt lapping
doors across from me, SHERIFF. As soon as I speak anything on
MILITUFORCE FORBIDDEN TOPICS, I GET SLAMMED, NAILED, SMASHED, REAMED,
PUMMELED, AND CRUCIFIED, AND WE ALL KNOW IT, RIGHT DOWN TO THE VERY
NIGHTMARE I WAS JUST TELLING YOU ABOUT BACK ON OCTOBER 5, 2008 AND
WHEN I CAME AWAKE AND OUT OF IT AND TRIED TO BLOG ABOUT IT, I GOT
INSTANTLY STRUCK WITH CRASH LEVEL M2F CHOPPER ASSAULTS, IT IS ALL UP
THERE TO BE ARCHIVED, AND IT IS ALL TIME AND DATE PROOF DOCUMENTED ON
THE BEST EVIDENCE PROVER POSSIBLE, THE GOOGLE-BLOGGER WEBSITE
SYSTEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
HERE
IS A MORE RECENT TIMES ARCHIVES:
Blog Archive
About Me
- mark wayne mohr
- being one of perhaps ten humans since time began who have memory going back far beyond current physical birth, I am doing my best to deal with an extremely unpleasant situation.
Nov
23,
2019 7:00 AM – Nov
30,
2019 6:00 AM
|
As
for Delmo Cifaloglio; we can see a whole lot of powerful connections
through and via the wonderful Lawtronically controlled, managed, and
operated, and Morianity-Labeled JRSS (James Redfield Synchronicity
syndrome). You know, BE REAL here Bob Schleigh from the great MAFCO
place in Camden, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG, come on yo. DELMO
My
dance DEMO tunes, the state of Delaware who originally my vocalist
was supposed to come over to the Maxfield Sound Studio in the spring
of 1980 from before being SUDDENLY MYSTERIOUSLY CAUGHT WITH ILLEGAL
DRUGS and totally BUSTED!!!!! I'm quite sure a lot more things will
jump out at me as I go on examining this newest and vely vely
powerful non-McDowell-JRSS deal!
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
DELMO
Say
it once or say it 15 times for crying out friggin' loud folks, the
truth is that Bob Schleigh at the Mafco job said the very same thing
to me that those two illegal Mexican workers at the great Cifaloglio
place also said to me, concerning my DEMO TUNES, the dance tunes, and
when they heard them playing. Don't ever count out South American
people as stupid, as does my very distant Cousin Donald. Yes, I have
three Cousin Donald's, a very distant one, a semi-distant one, Carol
and Paul Gottwald's brother who married a Native girl from lovely
HAWAII, and a close in FIRST-CUZZ, Donald Powell. With Trump, his mom
if memory serves, is the second cousin once removed, from my Great
Aunt Alice Gallagher, who really in-law cousins are not aunts or
uncles, but as kids we are taught to even call friends of the family
in many cases, AUNT so and so, or UNK. Alice Gallagher married the
son of my mom's first cousin or her mom's brother or something like
that, Sir Herbert Huntington. He had a son or maybe other kids too
but family secrets about with the great almighty Huntington clan, and
I know more than enough just about this double murder/suicide done by
the son of Herbert, Sir Arthur. This places Donald Trump somewhere
around my 5th
cousin 6 times removed, and removed means in marriages or the (in-law
non-blood) in family lineages. Still, the two of us and approximately
3,500 other of my fellow Earth-Planet citizens existing somewhere
alive and presently, are all, to quote those lovely sisters of soul,
family, so yes, technically, “WE ARE FAM-A-LEE”. So
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Still yo, moving this onward folks, don't
count out the South American people as does President Asshole D.J.
Trump. They know a lot more shit than they go around admitting to,
and trust me, I lived with a branch of a great clan from the
highlands of Guatemala, and they are very special people who do in
fact not only know stuff, but I AM TOTALLY FUCKING CONVINCED that
they have many connections into the Exploratronic Supermind Society
(ESS). The distant family connections of Ann and Dawn King go
straight into the lines of Paula King and aklso branch out connecting
the McGuires, the Tilley's, and even lovely Patty's mom from up there
in good ol' lovely Illinois somewhere, where ALL MY DAMN LIFE
SENATOR, bills or no bills written kind sir, I had repeating or
recurring nightmares about being in Illinois, and then ending up in
Chicago, and lost in the city there walking all around the place; and
I mean as early as the pre-teen fucking times of my life when
I was still talking to kids from HEAVEN in park playgrounds,
and LIGHTNING
was visiting me all the time,
awake and in dreams, and doing all sorts of wild shit, including
striking right outside of my window at the Haddon Hills Apartments so
close that I could clearly hear the “CLICK-CLICK-BOOM”
of the electrons in the 'stepped leader channel' as all of the
electrical engineers and the meteorologists call it, and instantly
followed by the air exploding from the awesome heat, like popping
ten thousand huge balloons right in front of my face, and yet, NEVER
EVER did anything so much as burn or leave one scorch mark or a
single fucking puff of smoke.
When I was four years old and living in Levittown, Pennsylvania, I
had Lightning (DIANA) come right from the outside yard, go underneath
the foundation of the house and instantly up through a pipe and the
floor of the kitchen where I was sitting in my high chair looking out
at HER, and SHE would come right into me through my highchair, and
SHE would tell me that I AM HER LITTLE BOY, and that SHE will always
love me and stay with me forever and ever!!!!!!!!!!!!! But let us get
back to my coworker, Sir Bob Schleigh, who said to me one night, at
my guardhouse, after he had walked in and sat down, and was listening
to my DEMO DANCE TUNES playing on my cassette tape recorder and was
outside hitting a security key; “Did you tape that off the radio
boy”? We can tie in a whole lot of shit with the wild invention
called my “KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL”, the article that someone
went out of their way for me to read at the jobsite just a week
before the very same thing was asked me by those ILLEGAL WORKERS, and
how dots always absolutely connect to speak endless powerhouse true
stories, that is, if we are indeed not too busy to entertain the JRSS
as truth, and really
begin LISTENING TO THE VOICE OF THE COSMOS.
God
WILL absolutely talk back to us continually, using the JRSS, and I
absolutely know this for total mother fucking sure.
The
two articles in that PEOPLE MAGAZINE were back to back,
and they were about Donna
Summer
and also about Mariah
Carey.
All shit is connected, and it always will be; and most definitely
with no help whatsoever from any really great messages from
mommy-dearest, moomy deast, the Kings of the PBHE Club, the inventor
of the typewriter and keyboards of the GASME-GAMES, and all great
curly haired really good girls, and so much more. Sir Dennis Snyder
who visited me very often for most of my working time at the
Cifaloglio place, and when I was not being
choked out by any great transdimensional Darius's anywhere,
or DEEZEE
SLIMS on the great YOU-TUBE
WEBSITE
either, or in any wild lakehouses; would say to me vely vely vely
often, oh wonderful ol' Cooley Hall pal, Sir McDowell, yo; “And
that's just reality, son”!!!!!!!!!!!
To
this day, I will never know what Lenny McKinnon, the U.S.
Copyright Office, and some others, all pulled off; after I went to
that music attorney by the name of Malcolm
Rosenberg, early in the autumn of
1980, or somewhere around there. I sent the four songs on
one open reel tape, at a speed
of 7 and one half IPS, on a full track recording, copied onto my
RS-1500-US, open reel semi-pro mastering machine, that I bought
from the Martin Audio/Video store, in Manhattan, in May of 1980,
and was delivered to my apartment by UPS, early in the first week
in June, right before my powerful and unfathomable bizarre Lois
Foca dream-HIE-RAW! Suddenly Marcy
Levy and Robin Gibb, from the famous BEEGEE assholes, had
made a song, that was rapidly going into lower numbers, on the
Billboard Hot 100 Music Charts, called, “Help
Me”, speaking of major fuckiGN symbolism, YO. After I saw
the attorney recommended by my arranger, Mister Glenn, the song
magically seemed to get pulled off of the air, and was killed
cold; but no one ever spoke a word to me about shit, not Howard
Solomon, not Lenny McKinnon, not Malcolm Rosenberg. Then came the
real kicker of all kickers; Sheriff Mascara, and Attorney General
Pam Bondi, of Florida-USA-ESMWG. You can see it for yourselves
with the above pasted in U.S. Copyright Office PAU forms, that
show a history of my musical copyrights. My
1994 book, The Permission Barrier, is not included since
this was not a song; and only goddess knows why the roulette
system, from two years before that, in 1992; was included, as that
was not a song, but rather, a system for
playing 'inside numbers' roulette. Still, I
never was given a copyright on the song, and its
arrangement, back in 1980. They made
sure it was the following year, after the BEEGEE incident, and
did not include the name of my arranger on the copyright form.
The joke is that in 1977, before this particular internet
song-list was used; I had copyrighted the
LOST LOVE song. But it was the
arrangement that was stolen, and even without the
copyright, Tom Glenn, my arranger, was paid in full by me, as work
for hire, or whatever they call it. This music and arrangement is
all legally owned by me, and is legally my property, whether
copyrighted or not; as long as Tom Glenn is
available to go to court, and witness this for me someday.
Should that ever miraculously happen; then
the fucking press will no longer be able to call me a mother
fuckiGN crackpot; oh GAP Sheriff, and
GAP Mizz Bondi-AG, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
TOTALLY LEGALLY HEREBY SWEAR, THE ABOVE PARAGRAPH IS TOTALLY 100%
TRUE, THAT I AM THE AUTHOR OF THAT SONG, THAT I PAID FOR THAT
ARRANGMENT THAT WAS STOLEN BY THE BEEGEE MUSIC GROUP IN 1980; AND
THAT THIS ROTTEN ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY, HAS GONE AFTER ME, AND
RUINED MY ENTIRE LIFE; AFTER THIS ALL HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If
this was a real world; some fucking attorney, or somebody, would
contact me; verify all my mother fucking shit, and then split the
lawsuits that I legally deserve to pursue, on a 50/50
contingency!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is how I know that I died
and went to fucking HELL, a very long fucking cunt ass time ago;
you rotten old stinky world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
©
BOM 2006-2019 MARK WAYNE MOHR
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
She
used to say, and I quote; “If you don't like cats and dogs and
kids, there's got to be something wrong with you somewhere”. I am
speaking of the world's great and now sadly late, disco diva, Mizz
Donna Gaines Summer!
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
FORT
PIERCE,
FLORIDA,
UNITED
STATES,
ESMWG.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2019.
END
OF THIS TRAckUnpredictedBEResources TRANSactions TRANSMISSION, Mike
Soft!!!!
Jackie
Gleason said it all when he got pissed off at his wife Alice or his
pal Ed Norton,
on that super fantastic laugh a second comedy show, where he played
the part of a NYC Bus Driver, Mister
Ralph Kramdon.
He'd shake his fist and holler very loudly, “How
would you like a trip to the moon”????
Well, maybe this dude pissed Jackie off just once too often, yo yo yo
yo yo, an da great big ass WEEEEEEEE for the illustrious
shoe-knocker-outer powerhouse SIR CHESTER-FRANK, who absolutely does
know who he is, and which places him head and shoulders and then
some, ahead of all of the rest of us mere fucking pitiful mortals,
BRAHHHHHHHHH!!!!
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This
entire story has one inescapable truth and reality to it, folks, and
I know that you all know it as well as I do,yo. It is all about the
music, and just as the great television
promiseUsePolyfillSetImmediateGK
PROMOTER, Mister
Kevin Trudeau said over and over on numerous ad-spots
about how to make money that captivated large audiences all over the
place for many years, “It's ALL about the
MONEY”; so too is this entire screwy rotten fucking life
of the Mountainpen, ALL ABOUT THE DAMN
MUSIC! I know this more than I know that 1+1+1 is 3, on or
off of that great English 'ABBEY ROAD”, and that the great man of
wisdom-words, knew that I indeed could be, as well as WAS, a father,
chronologically; because this entire deal all comes from the realm of
ENERGY and NAUT from the realm of mass, or the spiritual rather than
the physical, to put that in more acceptable religious terminology,
yo. Still, truth is truth, saying it any way that you like. I could
go on an don, but this blog is for the purpose of some continued
laying of foundations so that when I do move things along, I will not
be leaving anyone out in the damn cold and wondering what damn color
my underwear is, oh Latengrate SIR Eugene
Horowitz (STAGE NAME-MICHAEL
LANDON)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
OF THIS TRANSMISSION.
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