DOGTOWN
TO EARTH COME IN PLEASE, CHAPTER
4
5:13
ANTE'
MERIDIAN
SUNDAY
MORNING
5
JANUARY,
2020
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
Mark
Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr
©
2006-2020, '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.
THIS
WORLD IS FILLED WITH BEACH PIGS!!!
My blogs
Cifaloglio Inc - Minotola, New Jersey - Waste Management ...
Phone, (856)
213-6491 · Address. 724 S Harding Hwy; Minotola, New Jersey 08310
NAUT
even SARAH the great,
is an exception to these rules:
OR
MAGICAL APPEARANCES DONE TRANSDIMENSIONALLY IN TRANSFER STATIONS,
THAT
ARE NOW ONWNED BY THE MIGHTY ALL-GHOST-WHISPERING
“WASTE-MANAGEMENT COMPANY”!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND,
THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS RANDOM,
AND NOTHING EVER JUST HAPPENS, NO
JOB,
NO
RESIDENCE,
NO
CONTACT WITH ANYONE;
&
NOTHING
IS EVER JUST NOTHING!!!!!
EVERY MOTHER FUCKING THING THAT HAPPENED TO ME SINCE I LEFT THE
MAGICAL SUBATOMIC POWERED OR CONTROLLED COOLEY HIGH HELL HALL OF
DOGTOWN ON EARTH, HAPPENED BY SHEER TOTAL HAPPENSTANCE RANDOM
CHANCE!!!!!!!!!!!
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
ROACHES---ROACHES---ROACHES
PUBLIC
FUCKING HOUSING
SUCKS!!!
PUBLIC
FUCKING HOUSING
SUCKS!!!
PUBLIC
FUCKING HOUSING
SUCKS!!!
PUBLIC
FUCKING HOUSING
SUCKS!!!
PUBLIC
FUCKING HOUSING
SUCKS!!!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
BUT
BEING IN ETERNAL HELL IS WORSE!
AND
ENDLESS COMPUKER HACKING IS EVEN WORSE THAN THIS!!!!!!!
A
DEATH BEAM IS STRIKING MY HEALTH!
I
mean, to quote Queen Katy
and myself, “This is truly WEEDEEKAWUSS”!
So
I now say to this evil rotten wicked world in all parallel realities:
“YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO, AND A BIG-ASS,
VIVA
MORIANITY!”
SUNDAY,
JANUARY 5, 2020
CURRENT
PHASE IS:
WAXING
GIBBOUS 3:7
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.
I
HAVE TOLD HOW THESE FUCKING GODS ARE PLAYING ENDLESS
GAMES WITH ME, AND IT GOES FAR BEYOND ROACHES AND RATS
EVERYWHERE. IT IS ALSO HORRIBLE NIGHTMARES
EVERY NIGHT, AND ENDLESS GAMES THAT SEEM TO ME TO BE TOTALLY
ASS SILLY, BUT OBVIOUSLY ARE ANYTHING MOTHER
FUCKING BUTTTTTTTTTTTTT SILLY TO THESE SICKIO
WACK JOB FUCKING TURD HUFFING GODS OF
THE PURGATORY. I SPEAK OF ANOTHER 'MIND HACK', OR CALENDAR
HACK, OR WHATEVER IT IS THAT IS CAUSING THIS
SHIT WITH THE LUNAR PHASES.
SOMEONE IS EITHER CHANGING CALENDARS ON MY WALL, OR SOMEHOW DIRECTLY
HACKING MY MOTHER FUCKING MIND ITSELF; AND NEITHER OF
THESE TWO GODDAMN FUCKING THINGS IS TOO DIFFICULT FOR THESE DISEASED
ASTRAL PLANE GODS TO ACCOMPLISH!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
know that I carefully looked on my brand new calendar,
and I compared the ending of the past year calendar very carefully,
counting out the exact times of the QUARTER
LUNAR
PHASES, and then the
days in-between them; and yet for a second MOTHER FUCKING
TIME NOW, THINGS HAVE MAGICALLY ALTERED,
and are not what they used to be weeks ago when I printed up the new
month lunar pasting page for populating in the new data for blog
posting. This is why I hesitate to stop things, and now
when I feel like doing shit, I will do shit, and when I don't fucking
feel like it, then I won't fuckign cunt do it. It is my blog, and
people can read it or ignore it at their own discretion. Also, I say
in absolute honesty, candor, and selflessness, as much as I would
love to have a more popular blog; the vast majority of 99.999999999%
or so of blog followers who refuse to entertain Mountainpen's wisdom
and free information, may very well be placing huge knives into the
bodies of their so-called loving descendants!!!!!!!! This
is why I will do what I WANT TO DO from now on, and right now,
since THESE GASME GODS GAMES are very real,
and I need to prove this shit as best as any fucking cunt DOGTOWN
RESIDENT could possibly ever
hope to do; it has been well established now that there is a
NEW GAME IN TOWN, and its fucking
GODDESSDAMN name is “Let's
Fuck With Mountainpen's Lunar
Blogging Charts”!
As
I typed this last shit in, THE GODS JUST MOTHER FUCKING TOTALLY
CRASHED MY CUNT LAPPING CUM PUKE HER (COMPUTER) SHERIFF
KENNETH J. MASCARA; EVEN THOUGH I KNOW THAT YOU COULD CARE
IN THE MOTHER FUCKING LEAST ABOUT MY
CIVIL RIGHTS AS A CITIZEN OF YOUR COUNTY, OR THIS
ILLEGAL ELDER FUCKING ABUSE; OH GREAT
'KIND SIR'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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 DEATH SIEGE ASSAULT OF 5
JANUARY OF 2019, AND
THE ENTIRE MONTH AND YEAR;
WITH A MAJOR COMPUTER HACK ATTACK AT JUST PAST SIX THIS MORNING, AS
WELL AS A DEATH ASSAULT ON MY BOWELS; IN THIS 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.
Tattle
tailing on these sicko gods DOES NOT WORK, and in fact, NOT ONE
MOTHER FUCKING SHIT EATING THING DOES WORK. You or I
will beat the mother fucking casinos before you can beat the
lawtronically built in GASME GODS GAMES with me, or better said
perhaps, played AGAINST ME, because THEY
CAN FORCE ME TO ALWAYS PLAY BY “THEIR RULES”, and I, simply
fucking cunt put yo, CANNAUT force them to
ever play by my rules, and so this
is a recipe for endless disaster and misery.
It is no different than playing FIXED GAMES with legally built in
endless mathematical advantages such as what is played in any and
every casino on the Earth-Planet. Dennis Snyder would put it
absolutely mother fuckign perfectly here, and I'll again quote him,
“And that's just reality, son”!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
mother fucking cunt huffing filthy rotten diseased MILITUFORCE
took me to their Astral-Plane BRIGGBASE last night before I got up
for the day of Saturday. Before I totally mother fuckign give up, I
intend to hire somebody after I move and get settled in, to promote
my blog to audiences interested in subjects ranging from anything
paranormal and psychic, the mysteries of
dreams and dreaming's, and the endless
quest for truth and knowledge concerning the extraterrestrial
situation, and including those studying all and any types of
religion, and learning about the
so-called TRUTHS OF GOD or (THE GODS, or
WHATEVER)!!! Just because I have so far failed to figure out
how to properly get my blogs to an audience truly interested in some
of the fuckign shit that I have talked about very seriously for
fourteen years now, DOES NOT MEAN THAT THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO WAY TO
GET THIS DONE IF I PAY A GRAND ORV SO TO A REAL PROMOTER, WHO IS
CHECKED OUT FULLY AND PROPERLY, THROUGH ALL CHANNELS INCLUDING THE
BETTER BUSINESS
BUREAU, CHAMBER
OF COMMERCE, AND SOME OTHER SOURCES.
Once I move, I fully intend to give all
of this ONE MORE MOTHER FUCKING TRY,
before I just lay down AND DIE, or do a
100 percent gods-laughing 'SURRENDER-OZ-DOROTHY'
for them! If when all is said and done, if absolutely no one wants to
hear the Mountainpen, then fine, 'fuck ya's'
I will then just stop these blogs, and do other more resourceful
things, such as work and save towards moving to a minimum wage state
that is 15 bucks an hour, and go back to at
least part time if not full time security work, as many guards
are working well into their septuagenarian years and I have met a few
over eighty. So fuck you to everybody! Buttercheese and big ass
BUTTTTTTT but, before I decide that my tattle tailing is completely
without bruising the enemy here and there and maybe causing some
occasional busted fucking bones as well, I will decide whether or not
to pursue telling some other shit that I have never seriously
embarked on because I merely thought to myself that the shit I have
told so far was more important, and hey world, JUST
MAYBE I WAS OFF BASE,
AND TOTALLY FUCKING WRONG. It wouldn't be the first time that
I have goofed, and it sure as DOGTOWN won't be the last cock sucking
time either, yo BRO!
Yes
the nightmares were quite fucking cunt super ultra hyper intense
cubed and re-squared during me' last dreaming cycle before starting
me' day early Saturday afternoon, where I then spent most of me' day
KILLING HORRIBLE ROACHES. In me' nightmares, I was in Atlantic City
at the start of it, and had lost fifteen-hundred-bucks in one of
their rotten ass cheating casinos. They do not cheat in obvious ways
that would possibly cost them their gaming licenses, so don't
misunderstand me, any DA or other authorities out here, as it is
illegal to accuse people of crimes without proof, and I am fully
aware of that. I never ever said they cheat in ANY CONVENTIONAL WAY
but they do absolutely cheat in many hidden ways, AND WITH ME, THEY
USED PARALLEL EVENT AGAINST ME AS WELL AS A FEW OTHER NASTY TRICKS.
Still, they were not ever in danger of a license pull, and so I
cannot go running to some DA with a complaint, despite my
mathematical documentation printed and posted up some time early last
year if me' memory serves me correctly, concerning my experience on
Halloween Day in the year of 1983, at Steve Winn's Golden Nugget
Hotel and Casino. How much would you like to
bet me Sheriff Mascara sir, or any other great 'LEO' out there, that
if I had gone and WON 32 bets that had 50-50 chances to win or to
lose, straight in a row, that I
would not have BEEN ACCUSED OF CHEATING BY T-H-E-M??????
I will gladly 'WAGER' anyone out there in cyberspace, ten
trillion dollars, if you can prove to me, that should that have been
the case that day on 10-31-1983, this
would not have happened to me, and that I would not have been stopped
by security on my way out, to talk to the booth workers at the CCC
(Casino Control Commission)!!!!!!!! I will bet anyone
any time, but the problem is that how could this bet ever be fairly
wagered? Should that fact ever change, I'll be more than happy to
make this wager!
So
in this nightmare, I lost 1500 bucks in the casino, and then met up
with a very strange dude, along with my father who told me that he
had come back from the dead. I knew something was way off, but I was
not real lucid and I remained a TYPE-1-EXP
(normal dreamer) who was merely experiencing a dream, with no control
over the shape it was taking whatsoever. Numerous strange things
happened, and finally I ended up being drugged, and taken to some
house on the bay-side, not that far away from the locally famous
psychic on the Black Horse Pike,
known as “Julia”. I was tied up and
shown some maps, and then some wild cowboy looking people came in
asking me many questions about 'Merry', not calling her this five
year old nickname of course. They drilled me for ten minutes exactly
as from my chair where I was all trussed up with very heavy nylon
ropes, there was one of those extra large clocks on the wall that
faced the position that I was sitting, such as those we see from time
to time while watching the more expensive homes shown on the great
HGTV-CABLE-CHANNEL on their various shows. SHERIFFR KJM, my fucking
BLACK HAT HACKERS RE REALLY ON ME A LOT LATELY, using these illegal
hacks and doing criminal mischief and elder abuse on an over
sixty-five year old 'shitizen' of your 'great and awesome' county of
Saint Lucie, FLORIDA, USAESMWG. These hacks are used all the time on
me now, sir, THE
SPACE BAR HACK, THE WORD DISAPPEARING HACK, and THE MOUSE JUMPING
HACK. To quote lovely tall gorgeous Katy at the QUEEN
of Abseacon NJUSAESMWG in 1997, or actually to quote me, concerning
lovely KATE that day, while I was with Sir Clarence Harris, the
Assistant to our wonderful Federal Congressman Robert Andrews; “This
is WEEDEEKAWUSS”, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo!!!!!!!!!! So after the ten minutes or so of trying to convince
these parallel universe total assholes, that I only saw Merry twice
in my life, once in 1972 and once in 1986 when she was two and then
sixteen and both times in another state up to the north of us; they
changed the topic quite abruptly and began asking me questions about
my trip with the space travelers who create solar systems in much the
same way as I post up my blog document files to blogger sites using
simple cut and paste basic computer technology. When they did not
like my answers, I would get hit, first with hard slaps, and later
with full on punches. Finally my father walked in and took out a long
thin gun and shot these horrible men. Then we got into a weird
looking car that seemed to be humanly powered, looking almost like a
tiny FIAT car with a large group of gears and bicycle pedals. We got
stopped by a police road check for an ID pull, and while we were
stopped, my father did not have the correct paperwork for his
weaponand we had to get out of the car, and in that parallel reality,
instead of detainees of traffic stops being handcuffed, a sort of
bubble wrap was placed around the legs, and it was applied in one
second flat and held firm and tight. My father talked his way out of
it somehow and we were sent on our way and ended up down the pike
almost to the drawbridge and the Mickey-D area where I was actually
in with the KING CLAN and shortly after my 'NDE' from my fatal heart
attack at my Cifaloglio security guard post. The fucking HACKING IS
OFF THE SCALE, SHERIFF. I know by what gets the hacks, what someone
somewhere DOES NOT LIKE ME TO BLOG, and this plays right into my
mother fucking hands, 'kind sir' or 'whatever'!!!!!!!!!!! So after we
got to this second house, I suddenly remembered that this is the
samwe house that I left in 'another wild dream' and got onto the
Black Horse Pike, and suddenly a HUGE MAGNATAR went off a million
years ago or so and just entered the NEO and blew up the ISS. Then
ten seconds later, the entire atmosphere of the Earth-Planet was
stripped off and all life on this planet was obliterated
instantaneously, and no Mike Soft HELLWRECKER SPELLCHECKER, NAUT
'ALL'IGATORS, “ALL LIFE”, Buttercheese and
BUT, you are correct; as I am
quite sure that 'ALL' of the mother fucking reptiles were
extinguished as well, since no life as we understand it, can live
without breathing an atmosphere!!!!!!!!!! So WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
©
Mark Wayne Mohr, 'and naut' Sir Crichton!
“OH
GOLLY Gee Dave, why can't we do something to get this nightmare
around us stopped”? Golly gee gash darn whiz Mark, “Because WE'VE
GOT FUCKING ENEMIES, AND THESE ENEMIES HAVE POWER, AND WE DON'T”!
On this fourteen February, one nine eight eight, “AD, EG,
E---------T---------.”
Oh
thiose 'original non operatic little yellow sheets. Let's not get any
fatal A&R heart attacks, in or out of Mickey-D or NYC, or even
for that matter, ANY TRANSFER STATIONS OWNED BY WM-CIFALOGLIO, huh
Delmo-DEMO, radio taper Sir Bob Schleigh?
END
TRANSMISSION, on or off 2-14-1988!
END
TRANSMISSION, on or off 2-14-1988!
END
TRANSMISSION, on or off 2-14-1988!
END
TRANSMISSION, on or off 2-14-1988!
END
TRANSMISSION, on or off 2-14-1988!
END
TRANSMISSION, on or off 2-14-1988!
END
TRANSMISSION, on or off 2-14-1988!
END
TRANSMISSION, on or off 2-14-1988!
4:10
POST
MERIDIAN
FRIDAY
AFTERNOON
3
JANUARY,
2020
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
IT
IS 85 DEGREES AND
SUNNY, HERE IN TOWN.
Beginning
at noon or just past, the noisy scummy shit next door in unit #605
woke me up, an everyday occurrence now so it appears. But
notice the 'NOON' shit, RIGHT AFTER I JUST BLOGGED HOW maintenance
never work during the NOON HOUR, at least never in my
apartment when shit was being repaired, as they ALWAYS QUIT FOR THEIR
NOON LUNCH BREAK. Same thing with the audio problem I recently
experienced with my entertainment system that has left me unable to
enjoy music any longer as once you know stereo sound, then reverting
back to one channel or monaural sound (mono) is just a plain simple
fucking NO-NO for any serious or critical sound listener. AGAIN
right after I BLOGGED THIS,
my photos of traffic cameras are going back and forth, FROM
COLOR TO BLACK
AND WHITE; and I blogged how going
from stereo to mono was similar in a video concept, as
would be going from color, back to black and white (B&W). If my
blogs are ever carefully scrutinized by serious REAL PEOPLE someday,
just if and ever mind you; then they will
all SEE ALL OF MY PROOFS TO ALL OF MY CLAIMS!!!
These
same HALLS FAWCES
or ASTRAL-PLANE COINS & COILS (GODS), also can do things
on a larger nonchrisblumof501, AND
NON OLIVIA N.J. Level; oh mighty sir GAMES
GASME GODS MICROSOFT HELLWRECKER SPELLchecker! I was in a
parallel universe far away in a distant galaxy some time back, and
on a weird space vessel where such high energy entities, (the gods),
were cutting and pasting in entire solar
systems from one place to another, and even creating them out of
'supposedly nothing', in an extremely similar, but merely far more
technologically advanced way, that I use
my 'CAPPING' to insert, and post, and copy things, from my document
files, onto each other, as well as onto blogging sites such as the
world famous GOOGLE-BLOGGER!
I have also witnessed things here in my own reality in this very
universe, or 'while being awake', to use a more acceptable lingo in
my description. I have witnessed the entire horizon to horizon
hologram suddenly totally alter upon numerous occasions while out on
errands back in New Jersey, and stranger shit happening around me as
a result than even I would dare to attempt to blog about as it would
make anyone reading it dismiss me entirely as even possibly credible,
very similar to the situation in 1994 with Mizz
Jean Ruba Smith, and my book called,
“The Permission Barrier”.
There indeed are things that just cannot be
said in this world. This of course is all due to the lawtronic
GASME GAMES of the GODS that have set shit up in this way and to
prevent those like me from EVER BEING ABLE TO EXPOSE CERTAIN
UNFATHOMABLE REALITIES AND TRUTHS, much like the MUFON situation with
their inability to ever GET TO THE BOTTOM OF THEIR DEAL! One
tiny example is what morianity calls the 'J.C.U.R.S.'
“Jesus Christ Unrecognizable Resurrection
Syndrome”. Those closest to HIM did not recognize him after
the raising from the dead deal “DDLTT” happened, BECAUSE
it simply COULD NOT BE TRUE, and if something is beyond a
TRUTH BARRIER so to speak; then an
instantaneous 'other needed explainable deal' MUST pop up, and
this is indeed one of the human world realities because it is created
in this way on the ASTRAL-PLANE (the
Purgatory), and called by Morianity “LAWTRONICS”!
The made up term by me is quite self suggesting and very apropos and
meaningful, the ultimate built in laws from the Astral-Plane and void
infinity itself that CAN NOT EVER BE BROKEN, or at least not in any
conventional way that human beings would ever normally be able to
accomplish. I could make a short list of things not spoken of by
humanity because for some reason that is beyond me, they have been
Lawtronically formed to operate in this manner. Being even more
specific would possibly violate laws even laws that protect normally
okay free speech. This further shows that LAWTRONICS is behind it
all, as by adding human laws into the 'spiritual laws', we sort of
get what the Latengrate pal of mine, Mister David Charles Roth, would
call it, “A double bubble”, and he would be absolutely correct!
When
I do eventually die as Mark Wayne Mohr, I have one final
fucking last laugh on these evil astral
GODS and
GODDESSES. Even with all of their
powerful and inconceivable technological abilities and omniscient
knowledge, EVEN THEY CANNOT RECOPY NEW SHIT
WITH ME AND THEM here humanly, on
this Physical Plane of human life. They can copy and copy
all they want to, and recycle shit endlessly, but they will never
ever have a way to make new material for their evil damn GAMES, using
ME. My HELL seems to be their ultimate amusement, BUTTTTTTTTTTTTT
and Buttercheese,
and big ass BUTT but, I will have the final laugh, because by
my perspective and relative viewpoint, IT
WILL END SOMEDAY, even though of course IT NEVER WILL,
AND IT NEVER DOES, by all of YOUR vantage points and limited
horizons, based on a less than ABSOLUTE TOTAL
ENLIGHTENMENT TO TRUTH! So with or without the Latengrate Sir
LINY-USAESMWG Heinz Cameras Gottwald's “PERMISSION” I will simply
COPY an old autumn of 1971 saying, from an old school chum from EXTON
NON MCGUIRE PENNSYLVANIA here, Sir Wirtz Carlisle; that goes like
thissssssssssssssss, Mizz Erica: “AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA”.
Every
night I am back to having very lucid horrible NIGHTMARES. More
accurately stated, my soul travels to very
unpleasant parts of the localized hyperspace. Before awakening
to the loud noises the past two sleeping cycles, I was either with my
mother or else I was on Long Beach Island with other weird people,
and last night it was the Jersey island that lays just east of
fucking Manahawkin. I may have fucking misspelled the name of this
town on the western side of the great causeway bridge there, but it
is spelled as it sounds and the asshole Spellchecker System did not
offer me any assistance heredahelda or HERE!!!!!! Still lovely
COOLEY-HALL-AIMY, I don't wish to anger your great certified public
accountant cousins for crying out loud, or the mighty RON JON SURFERS
CLUB, yo!!!!!!!!!! As for last night's major nightmare, I was there
all day long and into the night and it was quite different than here
in this universe. It had all of the Jersey casinos and Atlantic City
had none of them. I appeared to have been given my daughter's toy
strobelight, and was using it on the beach after dark to signal some
boats that were off the coast. I was attempting to escape the island
but all the boats and bridges and ways off the island had been
commandeered by my goddamn MILITUFORCE ENEMIES, and people were
treating me horrendously when I told them that I needed their help to
get out of there. It was almost as horribleas being back in Westmont
in 1966 with the mother fuckig SHADOW-MONSTERS FROM DOGTOWN! Oh well,
I AM IN DOGTOWN, so none of this should come to me with any real
heavy shock value, and I will inform the great Count VON-MARCUCCI of
the ESS that I indeed will learn to “carry that wight for a long
time”, or at least enjoy listening to his portable record player
that he brought into his classroom at the magical non mushroom
COOLEY-HALL IN THE KINGS HADDONFIELD, back in the middle late autumn
of that wild ass year of 1969, and other great and vely vely apropos
songs from the unforgettable SIR Nathaniel King
COLE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talk about MOOD-CONTROL, that damn strobing
toy flashlight seems to anger people, and make them get really
MEANingful MEAN, oh wonderful lovely Mike Soft Spellchecker!!!!!!
LIKE mother fucking SUPER ***WOW***!!! She may not want to sweep the
sand alright, mighty and illustrious Library of the Congress ©
Office, but WOW does she WANT TO OWNB THAT LAND, at least decades
later into the PHOTON FUCKING PROJECTION! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA JANE
SLEAZEWEEDSDISEASE. You missed me, Miss Rottenbitch!!!!!!!!!!! WO
BILLY HARNER from 2000. Talk about bicycles outside of shops, LONG
HAIR, and endless mother fuckign JAMES REDFIELD SYNCHRONICITY
SYNDROMES (JRSS)!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
Hell,
(DOGTOWN) I'll CAP in some lovely FIVE GROUPATIONS aniwho, yo
VRO!!!!!
Yes
Mister Flint/Doctor Lockner, with that instant tissue regeneration of
yours, you can be pierced through the heart and yet sir, “YOU
DO NAUT DIE”. Oh those wonderful and endlessly
JRSS connected SHOWS of so-called television-fiction, yo!!!!!!!!! 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”.
'DUHHHHHH'
END; TO THE DUMB SAVANTS!
DOGTOWN
TO EARTH COME IN PLEASE, CHAPTER
2
(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!
DOGTOWN
TO EARTH COME IN PLEASE
CHAPTER
2
4:30
ANTE'
MERIDIAN
FRIDAY
MORNING
3
JANUARY, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
Even
in HEAVEN and HELL,
there are rules. I know this for
a total fact because here in DOGTOWN, where I am, despite a powerful
illusion that I still reside physically on the caporial Earth world
system; I have observed certain absolute
unbreakable rules around me. No matter what I do, and I have
tried everything under the mother fucking sun; I
am forever unable to break these invisible rules surrounding me,
that no one will believe no matter how much proof I ever bring to
them. This is the MAIN
RULE, just what I said.
No matter how much proof I bring to any authority, THEY
REFUSE TO BELIEVE ME. Another powerful fucking rule is that I
always have a will to fight and defeat this invisible enemy, and this
enters me into endless CHALLENGES or said better, into ENDLESS GAMES
(GASME GODS GAMES). These are of course GAMES
THAT I CANNOT EVER WIN NO MATTER WHAT! Other rules exist in
all of this shit, but these two rules are the MAIN TWO, and are all
that the GODS truly ever need to bring them endless pleasure in their
sicko GAMES with me. This takes me to the middle late first encounter
with this MAIN-DUAL-RULE, in the year of 1986. I began to pass out a
certain number of religious tracts in the city of Gloucester, New
Jersey, for every botbar day I was given, as well as every grouping
of botbar days, single botbars were 2 tracts, double botbar days were
4 tracts, triple were 6 tracts, and just four in a row began to total
up to a monster number, 2+4+6+8=20. As soon as I did this, I was
given about a 98% BOTBAR day-average that went on for mother fuckign
years until I had to give up and surrender to
the COSMIC DOROTHY OZ in all of this, as I just could not keep
driving to Gloucester City once a week,
to pass out a hundred or more tracts in the dead of night, while
driving down street after street and playing the quintessential
litterbug of New Jersey. This is when I learned that 'THEY' WILL NAUT
back down, and then I came to remember just how the 1983 telephone
harassment was impossible to ever get to the bottom of either, and I
just had to finally mother fucking give up; as it was just utterly
non winnable. Whatever this magical invisible Omnipotent powerful
'FAWCES' were, THEY COULD NAUT BE DEFEATED, NAUT MOTHER FUCKING EVER.
Recently on my blogging project, I have once again attempted to see
if this ABSOLUTE FUCKING RULE COULD BE BROKEN, and it CANNAUT! I
speak of the RED-LINE-STAR-CROSSOVER SECRETS
THERMOMETER SCALE, and my major unrelenting tattle tailing of
great things. They would NAUT back down, and
again, things only got progressively mother fucking worse and worse
and worse for me! But there is indeed a
positive, and an upbeat 'TWINBAY' note to this silver lined dark
fucking cunt cloud. NOW I will do WHAT I
WANT TO DO, and no longer do things JUST WITH THE MOTIVE AND GOAL OF
ANGERING MY ENEMIES so that hopefully they will back off this
shit that they do to me, because they WILL NAUT; and so
I am just making a damn horrendous fucking shituation WORSE by
continuing to fight a war that is NOT WINNABLE! By doing this,
I will begin doing more things that I need to do and want to do
without concerning myself one bit with 'THEM'. Knowing the rules is
always 90% of any battle, and then successfully applying reason and
some sort of logical science to what has been learned, is the
remaining 10% of the battle, EVERY DAMN
TIME! To quote David Roth in a wild security guard
gatehouse conversation on Valentine's Day of 1988, when he got there
to relieve me at the American Honda Plant on Gaither Road in Mount
Laurel, NJUSAESMWG, just past twelve noon, while we were discussing
these OTAMM ENEMIES, and the Copyright Office has a copy of this
conversation to this very day and is obviously where Dick Wolf got
his Alice Simmonelli idea; I said something along the lines to him
of, “How can they keep always winning and doing all of this to us
and getting away with it, and why can't we fight them”?, and he
responded back in a deafening series of super loud shouted words,
“Because we've got fuckign enemies, and these enemies have fucking
power, and we don't”! anyone can go and listen to this at
the United States © Office, as it is all a part of The
Epitome of Harassment musical project PART 2, dated 1988, with
the title track called, “Prophet of Nothing”,
the song that had an entire Mickey-D dancing away one day while it
was playing at a drive-thru on my car radio! My point is simple in
all of this. POWER is everything,and these HALLS FAWCES have a
totally mother fucking unlimited SUPPLY OF IT. Also, I HAVE NONE AT
ALL, and they will keep me down and oppressed for ever, as
this is part of the DOGTOWN
GAME
RULES
FOR ME!
I
sprayed an entire can of RAID, as well as placed an entire box of
rodent, as well as roach poisonous pellets, all over the apartment;
and IT IS NAUT STOPPING MY PROBLEM.
I no longer can eat here, or cook here; and
will be moving out of here in about three months. I will have
to go out to eat, and I always sleep with bright lights on to avoid
being eaten up alive in here!
There
is a lot of logic behind why nothing works for me. If I do a music
project, they mind control the people I pay at studios to produce it
for me to do a lousy and unimpressive job, every single time. I can
tell anything in the universe on these blogs, but it falls only on
the ears of the same forty or so secret agent enemies who basicly are
doing these to me in the first place, or to quote Ron Wirtz Senior,
at the CCPO, back in 1991, changed and converted into Morianity
verbiage here; I am merely communicating with “the enemies who are
making funny faces back at me on the computer”. Ed Himacane's
promise to me was totally WORTHLESS, and it was MY OWN FUCKING FAULT
FOR NOT REALIZING THE POINTLESSNESS TO THE ENTIRE THING, and never
even wasting my time! But still, one positive note comes from the
full realization of all of this, and as said earlier and in
reiteration now; I will simply do what I WANT TO DO FROM NOW ON, and
realize the absolute futility of trying to ever secure help from a
single damn ass soul. It is fixed in stone and fire, DOGTOWN that is,
and my title on earlier year blogs here in Florida gave me that
message way back then before I currently in 2020 came to see it as
crystal clearly as Sir Johnny Nash!
END
TRANSMISSION.
DOGTOWN
TO EARTH COME IN PLEASE
CHAPTER
1
This
is the worst mother fucking shit I have had to suffer through in
decades, and is every bit like being back in the cunt chewing
nineteen-eighties, only NOW, I know why it is all happening, and it
goes far beyond MUFON or humankind religious bullshit, and Paul Evans
Pedersen was correct all along when he made that wild statement to me
late in 1998, “Mark, your problems go beyond religion”!
I
am under a HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE SKY ASSAULT TODAY, 2 January of 2020, with
giant menacing chemtrails all over me in my Fort Pierce town here in
dick licking Florida.
I
also have the next door maintenance peeps banging around and slamming
shit next door to me, and last night at around half past nine or so,
the jerk off noise from there was also bad for about a quarter hour.
At the same time that this began last night, I began to get brutally
assaulted with ROACHES and RATS. When I paid my rent today over at
the mother fuckign worthless and corrupt Housing Authority, I told
them I am going to be leaving very shortly and will keep them
informed and updated. I told them what I think of this corruption and
that after I am gone and out of here, I plan to write to a lot of
authority agencies to describe what I suffered through here
ILLEGALLY!
It
is now five past noon on this cunt lapping rotten second day in
January on this miserable ass-wipe Thursday afternoon. It is hot and
sticky AGAIN here as well, but as stated, ALL THESE THINGS HAPPEN
TOGETHER WITH ME HERE IN ENDLESS FUCKING DOGTOWN, so what else is
goddamn asshole new around here? SLAM SLAM SLAM BANG, WHAT A FUCKING
ENDLESS NIGHTMARE, as if you could care less about a poor elderly
legitimate and law abiding citizen of your rotten miserable county,
my great wonderful SHERIFF, SIR!
The
MILITUFORCE has brought in 2020 as bad
as they could with a 100% mother fucking
MAGNETIC PERCENTAGE FOR BOTBAR on this date of 2 January,
2020. Just to crack into an even 50-50, I would now need two
consecutive NON-BOT DAYS, Mister 'Mayor Callio'
of Dogtown-Halloweentown on the ATRAL PLANE, and yes, Mister
Michael Crichton too!
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