Tuesday, January 28, 2020

The Quintessential Bi-polarization




The Quintessential Bi-polarization





4:44 A.M., on Tuesday, 28 January, 2020







I told the story of David Charles Roth's horrible murder in the beginning of this third millennium, and spoke of his murderer, Mister Jonathan Schau. I told how Dave had a predictable habit pattern of enjoying eating out and especially in diners, and how he would go directly in and be seated at a booth, order coffee, and then go wash up in the men's room. This leaves a person who is dining with him who wishes to do him covert harm with some type of slow poison, absolutely free t slowly continue this poisoning each time they go and eat, and David goes to the men's room, as the coffee would be delivered before he would come back. I would know this as I would also go with him and observed this totally predictable habit. I fully believe that Mister Schau poisoned David, as rarely do relatively healthy males die in their late forties unless they have some recognized disease or have a very bad ticker, and David had neither of those things. He made a serious lapse in judgment one day when after we had several disagreements, over the course of our friendship, it led him to change his will, and give Mister Schau the legal position as executor of his estate, and David had an unusual large sized life insurance policy for someone not making at least very high five figure annual income. He had, unbeknown to me, listed me as the executor before he switched over to John Schau. I only learned this shortly before his death when he informed me that if anything happens to him, I would be repaid the five thousand dollars that he just about insisted that I give to another 'pal' of his in some harebrained scheme of going into our own small contract security business. Feeling guilty that I had used a portion of my mother's life insurance money and his pal Mike Devlin had all but stolen it from me, he wanted to be sure that I would be repaid upon his death should I be still living. However, I was never repaid, and the large insurance policy that was meant to go to his mother, was all absconded by that horrendous monster murderer, John Schau, a fellow Lodge Mason and so-called pal. Both Schau as well as David were of course MIND MANIPULATED (Tellosian-Controlled), to do what they did, for David to switch executors and then for Schau to pull that unconscionable criminal fraudulent act where somehow he managed to rip off everyone and was somehow able to direct every penny straight to himself. I have told this story to several police persons and other legal authorities, and to quote the mighty Ron Wirtz Senior, ADA of Camden County in the early and middle nineteen-nineties, “Go prove it”! Bad decisions made in anger, ALWAYS are detrimental for people, and this much I absolutely know from my short little sixty-five year life span in the present ME-PERSONA of Mark Wayne Mohr. Dave thought his decision was hurting me, and in a way, he got his way with that, but not really, because his conscience was not clean and he wanted me to have my money back should he die before me, and this was blocked from happening because of HIS DECISION. Hem also wanted his mother taken care of, and this did not happen, and she literally died of a heart attack as a result of this awful fucking mess, all within a week or two of the death of her son, David. When we do things like this, thinking we are hurting others, it is ALWAYS OURSELVES WHO WE HURT, or hurt the very most at least, and to quote Sir Dennis Snyder of Elm, New Jersey here folks, “And that's just reality, son”! There is no way that cosmos itself is not in real hyper truth, a gigantic huge MIRROR and reflector, and eventually, what we do will always “come back and GET US”, to quote a very special lady from early in the nineteen-seventies. The Buddhists call this thing, KARMA, and other religions and philosophies the world over, have other similar names and concepts for the very exact same thing. Everything is always a mere reflection in some way or another, of what once was. Even my marvelous super talented daughter knows the power of these truths, and IPYT everybody out here!!! I am talking about this incident with Dave and his damn life insurance because it will so nicely dovetail into what I now will go onto discuss on this blog, me' wonderful awesome peeps!



















It was Dave throughout a decade and a half of friendship, who said to me over and over and over again, “We can't keep making bad and stupid decisions”. That is a quotation I shan't fucking forget for the next million years, and I hear it literally in me' sleep from time to time, from several of his hyperspace doppelgangers. There is no mystery to sleep and dreams, and Morianity truly has uncovered what is going on, right down to the weird parts where he seem to skip and bounce, interact with beyond stupid things that never would happen in waking life, and all of the age old queries held by humanity on just what really happens when we sleep and dream. Only this blog is not about that, so I won't go exploding out into any tangents and get caught going far astray from me' pernt at hand, the absolute epitome of extremes, or as my blog title reflects by way of a similar description in nomenclature. Yes, Dave made a vely vely vely STUPID DECISION by removing me from being his executor to his will. And yes, who got hurt the worst by that bad decision on steroids, but a dude by the name of David Charles Roth, and second to follow, his poor pitiful 'non-Ronstadt' mother! Every time a person has a melt down at their job and goes out the door for a final time, as I left the RPL Sound Studio on the eleventh day in March of the year 1981, because coworker Mister Joe Sivo stole one of my two sandwiches in my lunch bag in the company fridge, who was I hurting? NOT JOE SIVO yo, but ME! Yessir peeps, NAUT anyone else BUTTTTTTT, and I mean BIG ASS BUTT and but, ME, yo! If I had remained at RPL, I would have slowly gone up the ladder to a higher position, and eventually made a living wage, perhaps replacing the retiring night boss eventually, Mister Donald Cialoni, in 1995; allowing me plenty of time to slowly build up savings and credit, and then eventually buy one or two investment properties; and my life would not even slightly resemble what it is now, living here in this mother fucking horrible roach and rat infested hellhole 'P.H.' BUILDING, in hot oven Fort Pierce, Florida, USAESMWG!













Think about stupid decisions like this. Making them, verses not making them, doing sort of a William Shakespeare with this thing if you will. On one hand, we would have our lives so completely better and different than it has become AFTER we have made that dumb ass move and again to quote me' great daughter here, and it has become “too late”! I know this made a large impression on here, as mathematically, the odds on all of those happenstance things in that great 2009 DVD, directly 'mirror imaging' my life, and things discussed for three to four years on me' blogs, would literally be a staggering number that would be meaningless to anyone not in the science world because we are talking about a few digits followed by approximately thirty-seven zeros. I speak of my discussions regarding my mom's nurse pal in Philadelphia back when I was about eight or so and seven years or so before she was even born. Anyone can read the blogs about the son of this nurse telling me one day in Philadelphia at 2041 Chestnut Street in Apartment 24-A, “Sometimes we only get one chance in this world”, and then I blogged his name; and anyone, unless they are absolutely totally brain-dead, knows my claims are completely real here, about my daughter! Still, this is not my point, and I do not choose to digress into this tangent on this particular blog writing today. I could literally write a thousand pages to prove the odds against coincidence, by any accepted mathematician whose legal testimony in any court proceeding would be absolutely accepted as expert witness testimony by any judge in this nation. But shall we move this along here, yo? What could be any further polarized here than this? How could anything be more sizable in opposing polarities? Make this stupid decision and have life fall into dogshit, verses DON'T MAKE IT, and no matter what, THINGS WOULD HAVE TO BE BETTER. If this ain't quintessential Bi-polarization in a nutshell, then I honestly do not know what ever would be; oh me' vely great peeps out here, whoever the Dogtown you all are!






























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MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASES CHART:



TUESDAY, JANUARY 28, 2020









CURRENT PHASE IS:



WAXING CRESCENT 4:6





N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 WNC7 N.M.

















LINKS TO MY ORIGINAL BLOGS OF THE BOM:

























































DEAR SHERIFF KEN MASCARA, SIR:

Several hours before I got up on Monday, say around quarter past ten give or take a few damn minutes, a MAJOR OUTSIDE MUSIC ASSAULT STRUCK ME from some ILLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGAL CAR SOUND SYSTEM, and then all day long, me' mother fucking MAJOR ROACH INFESTIATION has come back after being significantly better for about ten days or so, and it is here again with a cunt chewing vengeance, yo! WO to that; Sir Billy Harner! I believe this may be quite appropriate right about now, yo, “SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT”!















Jan 21, 2020 6:00 AM – Jan 28, 2020 5:00 AM







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Making My Argument For Me While Still Playing Their Gasme-Games





1:16 A.M., on Monday, 27 January, 2020











Depending on when this blog is read, unless read almost within the time circa of its posting, usually two hours give or take from the date as shown above with the time; we all know that my LEEEEEEEGALLY-PAID FOR “PHOTOBUCKET” PHOTO, is continuously being removed, by some unknown HALLS FAWCES FORCE, or the MILITUFORCE, or “WHATEVER”, to quote the great Federal Congressman whom I knew as a young lad before his days as Congressman Robert Andrews, back in the start of the summer time in the year of 1975 while I was residing at Apartment #1118, at the Linden Hill Apartments, in Lindenwold, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG. Then normally after a short period that ranges from one to ten days or so, give or take, poof, it comes back again. I of course am not behind this, nor do I appreciate this TOTALLY ILLEEEEEEEEEGAL AND CRIMINAL INTERNET BEHAVIOR on the part of whomever is indeed responsible for pulling off this continuous prank now for about a year or so now, yo, Sheriff Ken Mascara, kind sir! You would think that this 'FAWCE' behind all of this, would be smart enough to see that THEY ARE ACTUALLY LITERALLY MAKING MY ARGUMENTS FOR ME REGARDING THESE GODS-GASME-GAMES; as well as my claims of continual and constant persecution and harassment since 1986, give or take. BUTTTTTTTTT, big ass BUT folks; to them, and with another great paradox herein throughout the theme of this action against my civil liberties, mainly my rights to free speech on my blogs and posting my photo, guaranteed to me under the FIRST AMMENDMENT of the great UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION; these games seem to be of ultimate importance within some covert and yet to be fully understood 'black-ops system' within the MILITUFORCE, trumping and superseding even the threat and danger of becoming exposed by the world and the ultimate great vindication of one MARK WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN HUNTINGTON MOHR!Remember that I discussed in an earlier recent blog about the 'OTHER PARADOX' of persecuting me and stopping me whenever I attempt to do anything connected with MUSIC, even though it always raises the stock market WAY WAY UP FOR YEARS as a parallel event result, and they ABSOLUTELY LOVE A BULLISH ECONOMY AND WALL STREET, and persecute me in order to also get this to happen inside of another powerful huge parallel event, discussed for more than fourteen years now, on many many fucking blogs! Me' pernt, Sir Archibald Bunkerqueens is simply fucking thissssssss:! Dissecting the mess that surrounds my nightmare fucking endless pathetic and pitiful Earthly existence, has some CONSTANTS, and some RULES, that appear to be not only NEVER CHANGING, but simply do not make sense to me at all, since obviously, I have an extremely limited knowledge to the full and total inner workings of these HALLS FAWCES and or the (M2F) MILITUFORCE! Yes, no matter how we shake this all up and yes, even with the admitted limited full knowledge to the true total operations (OPS) of this M2F, 'THEY' still are making my argument for me regarding what I claim to be real and absolutely happening to me ever since August of 1986, when 'they' endlessly continue to pull my PHOTOBUCKET photo off of these blogs, and then, somehow 'they' or some other group of human beings, restore it again, yet never allow me to know who, what, why, where, or anything that would permit me to register any kind of an official legal complaint so that I could sue for money damages and introduce a four decade MOLLY-NEW pattern of PRIOR-BAD-ACTS, as well as get this entire shit once and for all EXPOSED TO THE WHOLE 'DAMN' WORLD, great Senator Bernie Sanders, SIR, yo!!!!!!! and hey, without anybody being 'born again', sweating over any little yellow sheets of paper up there in WASH your hands WASHINGTON, OR, 'losing their DAMN JOBS' by informing me just who my DAMN daughter was, sway back in the shortly post “TPB” days of my second stay at the illustrious HIGHVIEW APARTMENTS of Williamstown, NJUSAESMWG!!!!!!!! So hey Sir Chester-Frank, yo, “WEEEEEEEEEEEEE”!!!









But shall we proceed a tad bit further down this same road of the PHOTOBUCKET REMOVAL GASME GAME, and take it to PATTY AND MERRY, where in truth, all or at least a HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE great majority of roads, ALL SEEM TO HAVE LED all along; Mizz Lilly Munster “All over again”!!!!! First we have what happened that led up to the great hit song about love incidents that occurred underneath seashore boardwalks in 1969. Then within a very short damn march of years, we get Patty making sure from a great Paula-WAYV-FM-RADIO type of 'trick', that I would receive some incredibly wild magical powerful ancient wisdom-knowledge that was and is known as, the “FASCITAR”. With this Fascitar, one is able to cause people to “dream about people”. Then along comes my crazy wild unexplainable shit with my memories coming back regarding Atlantic City “SARAH KRASSLE”, and right shy of the digitally inverted year of 19-69, which would be 19-96, and then came the wild PCN-231-PRIZE PATROL-K.J. MCALLISTER 'dream' in 1997 that shortly followed the wild experience where the Almighty SARAH J. KRASSLE told me, “Let's play a game called Guess the Name of the Guests”. We are not forgetting for a single second all the rest of it, merely for sake of saving time, I am not including elucidations and numerous details of so many other wild experiences that have absolutely no rational explanation for their happening to me, along this incredible and unfathomable time line pattern, such as my being taken back to my high school and having my tablet stolen from me that had newspaper print that changed magically, like when I asked my father in 1962 in Quakertown, Pennsylvania, how this was done, before I knew that you had to go to a store each day and simply purchase the next day's fucking newspaper, and of course, not getting all completely succinct about the song that Merry had sung to me in that Prize Patrol dream, later recorded at BonJovi's Florida Studio, tony, cousin of John, right in my county, Saint Lucie, and when Lightning Goddess Diana Z. Arteemis came over and played with the power during the recording session, as was all told in real time as it went down from the first several years of the previous damn decade, yo BRRRRRRRR! And then came the 'dreams' eleven years after 1997 also. We all remember this, as some powerful intergalactic FAWCE was obviously enjoying all of this incredible GASME-GODS-GAME being played, and being BLOGGED out to a public network called the WORLD WIDE WEB, later shortened to the Interconnected Networking System, shortened again to simply the DAMN “INTERNET”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If another DAMN “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” is naut in order here, I'll eat me' mother fucking shirt at the speed of light, SQUARED! Then, after both me' mouth and me' shirt are converted into 'ENERGY' as a result, then we would really all have some shit to talk about, would WE NAUT, MIZZ AT&T BLAKE, MAHM? So mahm, we won't even touch “THE SONG from those times, will we, after damn all yo, we don't want any Library of Congress Head Librarians to, as Detective Green puts it so great, “LOSE THEIR DAMN JOBS” over this!

















'Boy oh boy oh boy'; Saturday was REAL/E DAMN DOGTOWN here in me' apartment, with those noisy 'ILLEEEEEEEEEEEEGAL' COUSINS across from me at #608, the ones who love to really mother fucking SLAM THEIR GODDAMN DOOR OVER AND OVER, AT ALL HOURS OF THE DAMN DAY AND NIGHT, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO, SHERIFF K.J.M. Like this is really damn-ass “weedeekawussAdmiral Perry. I'll always hear you in me' mind, telling me about how planes have so many restrictions, and must follow so many rules while flying, in what you referred to in 1988 in our telephone conversation, as the “National Air-Space-System”. So why wouldn't you respond to me' country music singer pal turned Federal-congressman's official letterhead letter to you, back in 1996? I had the two assistants to him, Mister Phil Patru and Mister Steve Petersen, inform you of so many violations of what you told me doesn't happen; back when we spoke over the phone and I was residing on West Central Avenue, in Moorestown, and when your niece who turned out so nice, and wasn't so nice to me nine years later, was only in grammar school, yo. Of course, I know what the score is. The secret agencies are above the law just as is the president of the united States, and they can all go and do anything they want to, and the country that I once knew and loved as a boy, has already been totally and completely wrecked and destroyed beyond repair; and despite what Prosecutor Wirtz Senior told me, that this is not the nation that is doing all of these damn horrendous criminal things to me, we all know that it is, since it was also you who told me that the big powerful business interests, and I am quoting Ron Wirtz here, “They have buddies in the military”! He told me this right after I asked him why he would say that to me, when obviously the aerial harassment is coming from powerful military aircraft's for the most part, as well as so many private planes. Speaking of the aerial persecution yo, SATURDAY was one of those days where NAUT ONLY was I persecuted big ass fucking cunt time by door slamming ILLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGAL COUSINS FROM UNIT 608, but also many crash level small airplanes were all over this non PATTY-HOLLISTER-BUILDING, especially shortly before it got dark, somewhere around the final hour of daylight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!









Human beings do not need to be aware and I am convinced they are normally NAUT aware one wee small bit, they are are being endlessly USED IN THESE ROTTEN DAMN GASME-GODS-GAMES, right down to the two peeps I have discussed in many varying ways as I got braver after remembering more and more shit from me' past, PATTY AND MERRY! Doing things covertly and using human beings for their ASTRAL-PLANE “late late show” so to speak, is much more efficiently accomplished by keeping those who these COINS AND COILS use, in the goddamn dark. This also is true in human life, right here on the Physical-Plane, and we all know thisssssss, lovely Erica Snakes Kane, do we 'NAUT'? SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!









Now here is a powerful fucking item never told to anyone ever, NAUT ON ANY BLOG, but Saturday's siege really fucking pissed me off, so 'here we GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO'; oh great 'job-keeping COPYRIGHT EXAMINERS', and endless haters of all included little yellow sheets of paper! John Colorado Henningsen was a very heavy sleeper, and sometimes while in his apartment in the late sixties, he would drink a large case of beer and fall asleep while I cleaned up his apartment for twenty-five cents an hour. Times were so different back then and today's population unless very elderly, don't even have an ability to relate to such a seemingly small wage for good hard work, or how he would drive me back to 125-A Haddon Hills Apartments a mile or so away, bombed and loaded out of his scull and swerving quite a bit, but this was not a serious traffic offense in those times unless of course you caused a bad accident and hurt or killed someone while drunk, and of course, times began to quickly change, but let me stick with the late fucking nineteen-sixties here, yo folks! When I was done working I would try to wake John up and it took a quarter hour of shaking him and yelling and blasting his small transistor radio, practically right in his ear. One time however, I thought he would not wake up, and I checked his pulse, and even though I was only an adolescent, I had a buddy who taught me how to take a pulse in various places, and I was perfectly able to do this. So on this occasion I took his pulse and he had no pulse, and I was about to get on his phone to call an operator to have the cops rush over, and he woke up and all was fine, and I ignored it and chalked it up to over drinking and my somehow fucking up the taking of his pulse. But on another occasion following this one about six months later, a time when he had absolutely nothing to drink and even told me that he was going to stop at the Haddonfield Liquors on Haddon Avenue and take me home by way of Crystal Lake Avenue instead of the normal route of using Park Avenue and going up to Pyle Avenue from there. He was all out of his beer, and he was stone cold sober, but he had fallen asleep while again I spent nearly three and a half hours cleaning up his whole apartment, as he was quite a pig, as most bachelor men are, let's keep it real here, Bob Radio Songsplayinginguardhouses Schleigh. I attempted to wake him, and again, I shook him violently, blasted his radio practically into his ear, and again, he was totally dead, and again, I felt for a pulse. THERE WAS NO 'DAMN' PULSE, Senator. I have always remembered thinking to myself, that in the cold days of winter, when we would be out somewhere together; he would talk to me, and unlike anyone else I had ever known; I never ever could see any breath coming out of his mouth no matter how damn icy cold it was. Yes, he did wake up after about twenty minutes of major screaming and loud radios and shaking him really hard on his bed, BUTTTTTTTT, BIG ASS BUT people, he did not seem to have a pulse, and he did not ever appear to breath. Once when we went to the Haddonfield High School, on King George's Highway right next door to the COOLEY HALL where I was attending, as in those times, it was perfectly legal to go and jog on their football field running track, and he loved to jog a mile every day unless he was not in town and away on secret business traveling the world, supposedly for the mighty Campbell's Soup Company. After he did his mile jog on one particular day, I noticed that he was not one tiny bit out of breath. The man simply did not seem to breath, nor did he seem to have a heartbeat. I thought of this as I always do when a particular episode of 'STAR TREK' is aired, with a dude named Captain Tracy, who goes nuts, and tries to talk Captain kirk into joining his venture of selling an immortality formula, that he mistakenly thought was discovered on a planet he was marooned on. This episode aired just last Saturday evening at ten at night on the “ME-TV” Network. Towards the end, he tries to trick some villagers into thinking that Mister Spock was the devil and used his ears, and then also told them that “He has no heart”. Doctor McCoy tried to tell everyone that he is a Vulcan and that they have their hearts on the opposite side of the chest as do other humanoid life forms. Each time I see that show, it reminds me of the pulse-less and breath-less Sir John Henningsen, my Organizational BB (Big Brother) from the Philadelphia Big Brother's Organization, now renamed to Big Brothers and Big Sisters, of course. Still, I have witnessed some strange things in my life, and I absolutely know for a fact that many people are living here amongst us WHO ARE NOT HUMAN BEINGS, and I always watch for such things as ridiculous amounts of extra physical strength for their size and gender, I always watch for the breath of people on cold days which I no longer can do here in Florida because it is only cold enough to do this rarely, and then, only in the early morning times when I am still sleeping. This is why I get so nervous when shit happens to me such as that GIANT PUSSY ATTACK on the Atlantic City beach in 2009, when suddenly out of fucking cunt nowhere, an entire gang of seven or eight or nine young women around mid twenties, all at least seven feet tall, literally three heads higher than me, were just there and staring right at me. When I run into people with the physical strength of fucking Superman, or any other extremely unusual characteristic; well, forgive me if I begin to get all weird and paranoid, AFTER ALL OF THE FUCKING NIGHTMARE CRAZY BULLSHIT THAT I HAVE GONE THROUGH FOR THE PAST HALF CENTURY NOW, MINIMUM, SINCE I WAS SOMEWHERE AROUND THE AGE OF 15 DAMN YEARS OF AGE, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


































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MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASES CHART:



MONDAY, JANUARY 27, 2020









CURRENT PHASE IS:



WAXING CRESCENT 3:6





N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 WNC7 N.M.

















I am doing me' very best to carry that weight for a long time, Mister Marcucci. Any help from “BEYOND” sir, would be greatly damn appreciated!











Live Camera from a random camera within the United States









THE WEATHER IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA:



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MOUNTAINPEN'S BLOG STATS UPDATE:



Nov 2, 2019 6:00 PM – Nov 9, 2019 5:00 PM





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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 NOW, EVER SINCE MIDDLE 2019 AND ON JANUARY 27, 2020, with a major car music assault and another roach infestation, on a crush-destruct order, under GENERAL-ORDER-189, max.-power. Open-Command, General Order #7. Use G-901, G-1133, G-14, G-719, G-13, CG5555-QP4 sub-code, under G-917, CG-2, under CG-18, and HOLD!!!!!!!!









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









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







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





































EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE



EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE



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
































































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© BOM 2006-2015 MARK WAYNE MOHR

BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (the 'BOM')









KEEP YOUR BIG MOUTH SHUT NOW, DONNA!!!




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! Permit me to reevaluate some of me' whittle preconceived notions here, lovely Boston meat-packer, turned DISCO-QUEEN!







The great esoteric FARM that was outside of Haddonfield, New Jersey, & just to the east a wee bit, and also 'TEN YEARS OFF' INTO THE ANTIMATTER NEGATIVE SPACE, known as by Mountainpen's Morianity (Photon Projection) since I do indeed coin many phrases and words, if I do say so me'self, yo.

Robin Hill Apartments





Robin Hill Apartments - Voorhees, New Jersey 08043







Me' mother fucking apartment is crawling with a new infestation of cock roaches, SHERIFF MASCARA, me' kind sir. I wonder if Levy and McGuire are putting these things in here as they put rats into Jenny Plageman's #10 trailer while I was living there back in positive-space (photon memory), in 2005. I purchased four brand new large RAID cans over at me' Publix Grocery Store today while out on errands, at my PCP-Doctor, and my Wallgreens Pharmacy, yo, Sheriff!







Yes I was out on me' ol' local errands today and WOW did I FALL UNDER A MAJOR SKY DEATH SIEGE that is still presently ongoing, SHERIFF 'KENNETH J. MASCARA', SIR, at twenty past eleven tonight, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!! Let's see what me' ol' MAGNETIC-SOUND-MACHINE (MAGNESONIC) will do to counterstrike this evil and monstrous mother fucking MILITUFORCE, yo BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!













Yes I went to my doctor and then to the Publix for RAID as well as some food that should last me throughout the month of November, and then finally stopped at the Walgreen Pharmacy to pick up a prescription that I had refilled on orders of Doctor JAR as I jokingly refer to him as, since his name is James A. Roberts. Yessir Sheriff, my life is a living burning breathing hot nightmare endless hell here on this Earth-Planet; me' kind wonderful awesome sir. I got a phone call late this morning from your office that had the same opening prompt sound but then just disconnected me after I kept saying “HELLO”. Maybe this was a subtle covert message that I was under a real bad goddamn death siege, as this sure proved out to be; kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



















There is a lovely FULL MOON shining down on me tonight, and SHE has been there for me now for several nights, surrounded of course by those ever dependable MILITUFORCE CHEMTRAILS that clutter and ugly up the skies around me, and have done so since the very tail end of 1987, while I worked for the American Honda Company over at the Mount Laurel, New Jersey Industrial Park, on Gaither Drive, just off Route 73 and Fellowship Road. WEEEEEEEE!













When I went to go to the vestibule area on my 6th floor here at my PH Building to view DIANA'S LOVELY FULL MOON; I ran into my pal at the end of the hallway, who was going down to the Community-Room to buy a soda. He had a note that he was reading that he had just removed from his door, and several notes just like it were on other doors; and the ones that no notes were on, merely had people who go in and out all the time, so they already had retrieved the notes that were at their doors. I however from the time I was out on me' errands, to the time I came back, and then went out to view my lovely moon; NEVER WAS GIVEN A NOTE. The note was about the THANX-2-GIVENS dinner, held annually at Public Housing, either at this Park Terrace Building, or the other building that is down eight blocks or so away to the north of me, on 7th Street, visible outside of me' apartment windows. Obviously Sheriff sir, I am hated here, and no one wants me to come to the dinner. Hey Sheriff sir, yo, I wasn't planning to anyway, but this just verifies HOW MUCH I AM HATED ALL OVER EVERYWHERE, and this is due to the MIND CONTROLLERS of the mighty evil wicked BRIGGBASE MILITUFORCE 'EARTH-CHAPTERED' GROUPATION of demonic fucking monsters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thisssssssssssssssssssssssss LOVELY ERICA is why my entire life IS ENDLESS HELL. If they can MIND CONTROL EVERYONE to hate my guts; then employers, landlords, and everything else in life, from romance to finance; is going to be endlessly ruined and wrecked. And you bastards out here have absolutely zero-zip-zilch sympathy for me. I say only thisssssssssssssssssssssssss, lovely BIG O, “WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW”!!!!!!!!!!!!!

END TRANSMISSION.








Cut me a break here, Marge Leo, yo!



JULY 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.



1 2 3 4 5-----WEEK 0

6 7 8 9 10 11 12----WEEK 1

13 14 15 16 17 18 19----WEEK 2

20 21 22 23 24 25 26----WEEK 3

27 28 29 30 31



AUGUST 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2----WEEK 4

3 4 5 6 7 8 9----WEEK 5

10 11 12 13 14 15 16---WEEK 6

17 18 19 20 21 22 23---WEEK 7

24 25 26 27 28 29 30---WEEK 8

31


SEPTEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6-----WEEK 9

7 8 9 10 11 12 13----WEEK 10

14 15 16 17 18 19 20----WEEK 11

21 22 23 24 25 26 27----WEEK 12

28 29 30



OCTOBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4--------WEEK 13

5 6 7 8 9 10 11-------WEEK 14

12 13 14 15 16 17 18-------WEEK 15

19 20 21 22 23 24 25-------WEEK 16

26 27 28 29 30 31



NOVEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1--------WEEK 17

2 3 4 5 6 7 8--------WEEK 18

9 10 11 12 13 14 15-------WEEK 19

16 17 18 19 20 21 22-------WEEK 20

23 24 25 26 27 28 29-------WEEK 21

30



DECEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6----------WEEK 22

7 8 9 10 11 12 13---------WEEK 23

14 15 16 17 18 19 20---------WEEK 24

21 22 23 24 25 26 27---------WEEK 25

28 29 30 31



JANUARY 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3-----------WEEK 26

4 5 6 7 8 9 10----------WEEK 27

11 12 13 14 15 16 17----------WEEK 28

18 19 20 21 22 23 24----------WEEK 29

25 26 27 28 29 30 31----------WEEK 30







FEBRUARY 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7------------WEEK 31

8 9 10 11 12 13 14-----------WEEK 32

15 16 17 18 19 20 21-----------WEEK 33

22 23 24 25 26 27 28-----------WEEK 34



MARCH 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7-------------WEEK 35

8 9 10 11 12 13 14------------WEEK 36

15 16 17 18 19 20 21------------WEEK 37

22 23 24 25 26 27 28------------WEEK 38

29 30 31



Cut me a break here, Marge Leo, yo!

Cut me a break here, Marge Leo, yo!

Cut me a break here, Marge Leo, yo!

Cut me a break here, Marge Leo, yo!

Cut me a break here, Marge Leo, yo!

Cut me a break here, Marge Leo, yo!

Cut me a break here, Marge Leo, yo!

Cut me a break here, Marge Leo, yo!












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