12:02
POST
MERIDIAN
THURSDAY
AFTERNOON
7
MAY, 2020
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
THE
BLOGS
OF
MOUNTAINPEN
©
2006-2020
MARK
WAYNE
MOHR
ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED ®
THE
'BOM'
THE
TORTURE AND SLOW MURDER OF MARK WAYNE MOHR BY TRUMP AND HIS MOB
CHAPTER
86
MORIANITY
FOR MILLENNIUM 3
The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"
MOUNTAINPEN'S
LUNAR PHASES CHART:
THURSDAY,
MAY 7, 2020
CURRENT
PHASE IS:
FULL
MOON
N.M.
WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5
WXG6 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6
L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 WNC7 N.M.
THE SIEGE ON ME
BEGAN TODAY AT SHORTLY PAST MOTHER FUCKIGN CUNT EATING ELEVEN OF THE
CLOCK THIS MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! These ILLEGAL GUEST
MOTHER FUCKERS OVER IN THAT ILLEGAL UNIT ACROSS THE HALLWAY FROM ME
IN #608 ARE SLAMMING THEIR DOOR AS LOUD AS IS HUMANLY POSSIBLE and
only the fucking dick licking Astral Gods know why these doors do
naut break apart from this horrendous mother fucking total abuse.
Well, for that shit swallowing matter, maybe they also know or are
privy in some weird outlandish way just how poor innocent endlessly
picked on, little pathetic fucking MOUNTAINPEN; has naut broken
completely apart too from sixty five and a half years of abuse, and
now since the past five months and three days, ELDER ABUSE BY THE
STATUTE (LAWS OF THE LAND IN AMERICA)!
Last night before
retiring to bed, my body temperature shows 97.4, my blood pressure
shows 108 over 65, my pulse showed 66, and I have not taken today's
vitals. I awoke to this abusive door slamming from these total
fucking barn-house prick illegals across the hallway from me, and now
am doing this blog. Also, when I got out of bed and snuck a peak at
the digital clock and partially removed the clock blocker, I was
almost totally fucked by JANE Sleazeweedsdisease Crapinherpants
Fonda, seeing eleven-twelve! Here now is my belated mother fucking
cunt phlegm rape shun that is AKA me' goddamn pussy huffing
(compensation, yo)!!!!!!!!!!!!
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An extremely strange
other incident will be told now that just happened sometime after I
crashed into bed and awoke today. Three weird black 'face masks' in a
number ten envelope were delivered by the PHA and was donated from
some local ministry. Not that I do not appreciate them, but I do not
see how a person is supposed to wear them. They have nothing to
attach themselves to and merely have slits at the two ends of them. I
will ask my pal Kevin later on when I see him,
if he knows what the mother fucking shit we're supposed to do with
them. As the United States Marine
Corpsman would say so damn well here, “goooooollllleeeey”,
Sergeant fucking Carter! These ILLEGAL
PRICKS ARE STILL SLAMMING AWAY, AND I PLAN TO PUT ANOTHER
NOTE UNDERNEATH THE MANAGEMENT OFFICE DOOR TO COMPLAIN, AS THIS,
LOVELY KATY FROM 1997'S DAIRY QUEEN,
IS TOTALLY AND ABSOLUTELY WEEDEEKAWUSS,
BRAH!!!!!!!! And now I will ENTER-IN five pages or so of BLANK
COLORINGS so as to allow me to get past the page eleven of Fonda-slut
eleven!
Yes
please do naut think me to be an ungrateful miserable old turd
sniffing wretch heredahelda and HERE me BRO;
BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT and a BIG ASS
BUTT, and yes, but; I do naut understand how to work your
three pieces of black cloth, maybe I am just a
fucking stupid ass worthless wehtahd or sompem, yo!!!!!!!!
Still, I will now publicly thank the Allegany
Franciscan Ministries for their generosity in giving me
these 'whatever's'!
I had a lot of
fucking WALL HAMMERING BACK LAST SUNDAY AND MONDAY, but no loud doors
or music. Still, Clarence Harris and that endless truth about “MISERY
UNITS” endlessly appears to rear its fucking cunt ugly head, does
it naut, Mizz lovely 1983 AT&T BLAKE of the Annoyance Caller
Bureau?????????? So WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, sir powerful Shoeknockeroutter
Chester-Frank! The only good thing about overall shit with this
nightmare of Mister
Mortino
roaming to and fro and taking tens of thousands of peeps all over the
planet, is the MOON, as SHE has been beyond incredibly gorgeous and
ravishing, and I've been watching Her grow bigger and bigger for
several nights now, and tonight we have our most fullish moon of the
present monthly cycle, YO!!!!!!! I love you so goddamn much, lovely
Diana me' moon goddess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And at 12:33 this disafsternoon folksingers and FOLKS, I am getting a
DEATH
ANGEL ATTACK on me' RIGHT SIDE,
speaking of that dirt bag Sir
Mortimer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I love shit when it
has logical explanations and despite many peeps the world over who
endlessly believe that the MOUNTAINPEN is a nut case whack job who
enjoys his sicko weird life of epitomized conceivability; I am almost
giddy with fucking hyper-space-mechanical joy or other JRSS related
high schools of entertainment, when shit indeed has a rational and
explainable reality behind it that I'm able to discern. I am now
getting another, and this time, A MAJOR DEATH ANGEL ATTASK, this time
on me' mother fucking LEFT SIDE, YO! Get fucking lost you goddamn
prick Morty, willya'??????!!!!!!!!!! Yes, the moon phases of changing
hyperspace situation that I blogged about before seems to have a very
logical andrational bunch of reasoning behind it. It seems that I
occassionally paste in the wrong lunar calendar as I do not redo it
every time I do a blog, and I use the repopulated method of pasting
in old master sheets from prior blogs. Even dumb ass me knows how to
do re-populations on word processing systems. But I do sometimes
paste in from a blog that is too many back from the present one being
worked on, and then I got the wrong amounts of the four phases out of
the eight that do not have merely one phasing amount as do the new
moon, first quarter, full moon, and last quarter. The other
in-between phases can have 5 or 6 or 7 phases depending on the way
the calendar all fits together. This is not so much different from
the EDITOR'S CUT in various TV shows and even movies. Many times they
are a little bit different, and that is not high school musical or
HSM connected with or without any thrills or joys or Disney copycats
from Dogtown to Halloweentown. No folks, you have just totally pegged
the MOUNTAINPEN all wrong when you keep insisting that I love WEIRD.
I despise damn WEIRD, and I only wish on an hourly basis that I
could somehow, some day, HAVE A MOTHER FUCKING NORMAL WAY OF LIFE.
What a goddamn fucking total miracle that would be for poor little
pitiful me; lovely Linda Ron!!!!!
One tiny positive
here for lovely 2008 autumns' mysterious Mizz Desire' Twinbay of all
great townships and libraries, all over the place, in mighty
illustrious NEW JERSEY; is the temperature. We are having a small
littrle cool snap after days of heat and humidity has brought the
Fort Pierce, Florida area a preview of shortly coming attractions
known as the very long summer time of Southern third FLORIDA-USA, yo
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!! Back on Tuesday, the great WEATHER CHANNEL
(TWC) showed at 3:30 PM, the local area here to be sunny and 92
feeling 95 with 41% humidity, with winds blowing south at ten miles
per hour. Today it also is sunny withlittle white puff clouds
floating all around mixed with disapaiting jet vapor trails of
course, and it is syupposed to barely get out of the seventies, and
this should last for us for severallovely fucking days, yo
BRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!! So again, another “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
for mighty Shoeknockeroutter Sir Chester-Frank of NO-JOYSEY, USA,
ESMWG, yo yo yo yo yo BROADCASTED-MICROSUCKS-BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And
glory bee to Gloria and all supergirls the world over; I now can
remove me' five or so pages of ENTER-COLORINGS that helped me to
avoid seeing UGLY-DIGITAL-JANE!!!!!!!!!!!
Every night for a
very long time, I was in Atlantic City in me' nightmares, and now for
a week or so, every night, I am either back at HIGHVIEW of
Williamstown, or I am back at 1802 ROBIN HILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't
even ask me all the details to these horrible fuckign hyperspace
shituations, pweeeeeze! TANKS and
fucking total ass B—O—O—M!!!!!!
And pweeeeeeeeeeeeze yo, no more hubcap damage, Sir Nicholas
Gatherer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA, MIKE MCNULTY!!!!!
BLOG
41 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
''GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS'' CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN
MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
All
dots always connect, and all randoms are endlessly disguised
patterns. No one can make up anything and no one can scramble
anything beyond the cosmically recognizable truths that lay within
all and any items. No, I was not told that by Alpha-Deep-6. He did
send me electronic mail years ago in the early twenty-teen years, but
that was all. I had powerful reasons for doing and saying everything,
as well as temporarily confusing the M2F enemies, by saying that he
was the one who told that to me. In the summer time of 1997 and
approximately a year after moving into that Somerdale NJUSAESMWG
DEATH HOUSE on the corner of Yale and Harvard Avenues, David Roth and
I had many talks in the area of Warren Grove, New Jersey at a place
we called, “HIGHPOINT”, and that
Dave had named it so. It was on public pine barrens property a little
bit shy of the gate into a military war-games ops location. Dave
'poo-pood it' when I tried to tell him how we could use the PHASE-4
reality of truth against our M2F enemies and for our mutual
advantage. He was unable to
understand how it truly works, and hey, that's okay, because
it wasn't meant to be; lovely Doris
Day of Samsung Futures. Still, we all know now, or this
Blogaudian-ship does aniwho, that
Sir Pres-#45, Donald John Trump, has indeed lived by this
code, and he uses it every single mother
fucking day!!!!!!!
Good
morning Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara, kind sir. Please
share the past few blogs, AND THIS ONE FOR SURE, with a New Jersey
Sheriff, retired maybe, and maybe not, the Camden County Sheriff
Simons; and if memory is serving me correctly, the brother
of my friend and realtor of my most recent Jersey days, kind sir;
Misses Karen Simons! I never met
her husband Jim, but the story I need to tell you tonight sir, is
beyond totally huge. I was not only inside
the home of Sheriff Simons, WITH
PERMISSION OF COURSE, but a
wild event that I was not able to put together back then, is now
ringing with truth, as clearly as the damn Liberty Bell in
Philadelphia, with its famous crack in it and all; as far as to why
Karen told me that she refused to involve her husband Jim, in
assisting me with my “Atlantic City-Sarah
problems”, since he was employed
at the ATLANTIC CITY CCC (CASINO
CONTROL
COMMISSION),
ON TENNESSEE AVENUE, NOT TWO YARDS AWAY FROM PAULA KING'S WAYV-FM
RADIO STATION; inside of the 'Arcade
Building', at the Frailenger's Salt
Water Taffy Store frontage, by the world famous boardwalk!
Also RIGHT THERE at the on-off ramp to this Tennessee
Avenue boardwalk, you know kind Sheriff Mascara sir; where
this mighty PINK GODDESS or whatever she really
and truly is, sang her now world famous song to me, in a
powerful dreaming interaction, while I
was residing at 1802 ROBIN
HILL APARTMENTS IN 1980, ON
THE FIRST WEEK OF JUNE, called Love Is For
Carpenters (LOIS FOCA)
for short, © 1981 MARK WAYNE MOHR! Some really super mouse
hacking is of course ongoing, and gee, I wonder why? We both know
only too well, that this is a beyond
forbidden topic, and a beyond DO-NOT-CROSS
RED-LINES COMMANDMENT TO ME, FROM
'THEM'!!!!!!! I know 'that' I
know it. The computer went crazy, and tried to hack off my
entire blog; but my back-up and repair commands worked quite well. I
would like to thank the great local STAPLES
STORE, for offering me some free assistance recently, so
that I indeed was able to pull out of that hack, Sheriff, kind sir!
The hackers thought it to be real/e funny, Ventnor-Thomas J; to make
my name above come out as Nark Wayne Mohr, Sheriff. Do you see just
how clever these twisted emereffing toilet germs really and truly
are, kind sir? They won't ever miss a trick, and I am hoping that you
are smart enough to just maybe, praise be to the saints in purgatory,
to see through not only their wild smoke and mirror systems, but also
see how they operate above us in a very quick type of hyper-time. No
other rational explanation is going to explain a never ending pattern
of these type of computer word program hacks, that I experienced ever
since my blogs all began. Also Sheriff sir, let's be quite frank
about another matter. When Mister George Belton
first introduced me to the casino game of ROULETTE,
in early December of the year 1982, and two months before I left 1802
Robin Hill Apartments, and moved into Jerald Pliner's rental home at
134 Norris Avenue, in Atco, New Jersey, sir; I had not gone to
Atlantic City with any real kind of regularity, since after the
second half of the nineteen-sixties when my mom and I would vacation
there at the Trinidad Hotel across from McGuire's
Pittsburgh Hotel and Erin Bar, or after the
following year in 1970 when I stayed exactly nineteen days at
the child molester's home on Cornwall
Avenue, in Ventnor, Mister Thomas J. Reale, the place that
later on became a very spurious part of the
great water works, ACMUA (Atlantic City Municipal Utilities
Authority), where Sarah
Callio was
employed for most of her life. The second that I began to
go down to Resorts Casino with Mister George Belton, they began
messing with me. Every single time they saw me arrive at the roulette
table, without fail, for starters, on would come one of the songs of
the great disco diva, Mizz Donna Summer. Three times this could be a
coincidence, but not fifty times! Would you believe in fifty
coincidences, Sheriff Mascara sir, in one of your crime
investigations? We both know the answer to this. Believe me when I
say that this is only one small thing that I could discuss, when I
say “They were messing with me”! As stated sir, Karen Simons of
Grassi Realty, in Somerdale, New Jersey, did more than just sell my
home at 112 Harvard Avenue, in town there. She also sold it to me
first. She always was willing to listen to my sob stories and tales
of woe. BUTTTTTTTT, the one place she absolutely refused to go with
me, was when it connected into Tennessee Avenue and Paula King, and
her radio station down there. So I can quite easily put two and two
together. I now realize plain as damn day, that Paula King obviously
threatened her not to discuss my stuff with her husband, Jim! Can I
prove that? No. But I surely had many of those type of discussions
and conversations with a Mister Ron Wirtz Senior, ADA at the Camden
County Prosecutor's Office, ever since the day when we met in his
office, along with his side-kick, mizz Donna Hottemper Spinosi! I say
we, as there were four persons. I was there with my late pal Mister
Dave Roth, and then as stated, there was him, and that girl with the
horrible disposition, Mizz DS. I have jokingly refered to her with
Dave, as the other D.S. In any event, she was nothing like the ADA in
the television show that did indeed resemble her physically, Angie
Harmon played the role, on the 'L&O' show, Mizz Abby Carmichael.
Funny also, kind sir, that this original meeting of the four of us,
took place in his Camden, New Jersey office, on the fifth day of
December, in 1989. Right after this early sometime the following
year, on came the greatest law show to ever be
televised!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Another 'coeenkeedink', kind sir? Oh well,
whatever! If you are interested in why I was in Sheriff Simon's home
one day back in the late nineteen-nineties, down by the tributary
that feeds into the Delaware River, and not far at all from the great
psychic shop called, “The gathering Place”, let me tell you.
Sheriff Simons was selling his home, and Karen was showing it to me
one day, along with one or two others. He had a really lovely place.
I did not think that I was able to afford it.
Sheriff
Mascara, every effing time I try to use this weather information,
HACKERS INSTANTLY screw it up!
OCTOBER
7, 2018,
SUNDAY
MORNING, AT 3:15,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS * DEGREES FNHT.
TODAY'S
RANGE: (H-*L-*).
HUMIDITY
IS *%.
HEAT
INDEX IS * DEGREES.
WIND
IS * AT *
MPH, GUSTS AT *.
RAINFALL
TOTALS TODAY ARE * CENTI-INCHES.
Now
Sheriff Mascara sir, SOMEONE IS ILLEGALLY
WIRETAPPING ME AGAIN. How do I know this? Vely vely vely
simple, SIR!!! Certain type of telephones that have an exact type of
'electronic guts' (the FCC-specifications that come with any and all
electronic devices to ensure regulatory compliance's), where we read
exactly how electronic systems are put together on a board, and
include the famous FCC statement that this device must accept
interference as well as not cause interference. Anyway, many AT&T
landline telephones, and for all I know, maybe plenty of other non
AT&T devices, if they have a view screen, and a memory system,
where caller information may be stored up to a maximum amount of
them; and if you take the phone off-hook for a few hours or longer,
customers who faithfully pay their phone bills on time, and are not
left with 911-only service; will have a voltage on the line that will
hold this memory. Many times I can go for months without it erasing.
BUTTTTTTTT, when the wiretapping device comes on from time to time,
the voltage can do anything from altering in a way almost similar to
what is used by voicemail systems to create what they call,
“studder-tones”, to entirely changing to a lesser amount, as
though the user has taken their phone off-hook. This is what the
great and mighty Federal Bureau of Investigation, calls a
'POWER-DRAIN'. They try to make better wiretapping devices, but if
one has electronic knowledge, WE KNOW when there is a mother *******
power drain, hence when we're being bugged! For the third time now
since middle September, my caller-log is empty in the morning when I
go back on-hook. BUTTTTTTTT, for the majority of the year 2018, this
was finally no longer happening. Again, my civil rights are being
screwed with, AMERICAN CIVIL LIBERTIES UNION, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!
Sheriff
sir, if these bastards would leave me alone, stop screwing with me
day and night, I just might stop crossing
red lines, and telling more and more and more damn secrets
about those abominable, despicable, and beyond horrendous monsters up
there in Atlantic City, New Jersey,
USAESMWG! Yes Sheriff; I truly believe that for reasons that I can
find absolutely no basis for in the laws of our country, that PAULA
KING, and ROBERT MCGUIRE, of
TENNESSEE AVENUE, IN ATLANTIC CITY, NEW
JERSEY; really and actually believe that they are the true
honest OWNERS, OF THIS VERY MAGICAL PIECE OF UNFATHOMABLE REAL
ESTATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jane-Sleazeweeds-Disease
just struck me down like the damn stinking Bubonic Plague of old
Europe in Constantinople. Let me compensate with my damn fives,
please!
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In
the middle of October, twelve years ago, Sheriff Mascara
sir; my friend Ed and I, went to a library in
Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey, one afternoon. I posted up a
blog from a computer there, saying that he and I were coming down
now, to Tennessee Avenue. This was the day where that crime was
committed on me by Robert McGuire, kind Sheriff. Why
is he allowed to destroy numerous automobiles that I drive? Why is
Paula allowed to RAPE ME, TORTURE ME, TRY TO RUN ME DOWN IN STORE
PARKING LOTS, and make my life an endless living hell, coming
to me in nightmares and dreams, singing her stupid garbage song to
me???????????????????? WHY? If I did these
things, you would put me into prison for the rest of my life,
Sheriff, AND YOU SHOULD!!!!
If
there is a god and I serious freaking doubt it, Sheriff sir; you
will make sure that my information goes to Sheriff, or Retired
Sheriff Simons, of Camden County, up in New Jersey. Now sir,
the Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office, has or might still have, as
I am free to always keep hoping; a disc that
proves that McGuire came up to my car that day in middle October
somewhere back in 2006; but he stood right at the passenger
front side window, with his angry fist all clenched up, and
neither Ed Lynch or myself EVER EVEN KNEW THAT HE WAS STANDING THERE.
It was the damn video camera that picked it up. He somehow was able
to remain absolutely invisible to us. Ed and I
had parked totally legally on Tennessee Avenue, about twenty yards
down away from his hotel property, where any damn tourist is allowed
to park for a short time and take pictures of anything public on that
street, which is what Ed and I were doing for my website, back then
that was called the MORIANITY-FOUNDATION. This is now defunct as it
was a pay-site and I did not have the forty-five bucks to put it up
again for a third year, in early 2009. BUTTTTTTTT this damn video
slide-show taken on Ed's computer-camera system, was confiscated by
the Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office, after he was caught doing
something illegal on the internet, another major story in and of
itself, that I'll be glad someday to share with you, kind Sheriff
Mascara, sir!!! Right after this horrible day, my car engine went
slower and slower until one day shortly thereafter, it quit and died
forever. That horrible dirt bag monster had put sand in the gas tank
when Ed and I went up to the boardwalk, as Ed wanted to buy a
newspaper, and they have vending machines that sell papers, up on the
boardwalk. Yes, right there where that monster Paula invaded my sleep
at Robin Hill back in 1980, and sang her stupid song to me!
ED,
not short for education, but for Eddie Himacane, whose
real actual surname was Lynch, was the downstairs neighbor to the
King family of Hammonton, back in 2006. Both parties had recently
moved into this rooming-house that was operated and owned by our
local town judge, the Honorable Frank Raso, that was just two blocks
down a neighborhood street from the Hammonton Library, where I had
been going to blog when my blogs first began in early 2006. Nothing
ever just happens, and this was all planned by the GREAT
KING FAMILY, ALL ALONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The hackers keep trying to make
me call them the great KIND family. Yeah, real damn kind. They only
totally devastated me and wiped out my entire stinking rotten lousy
ass life forever!!!
Ed
and I. Yeah, Huntington, not Harrington, Mister Rod Serling! This
all goes so far beyond any possible coincidence, my kind folks and
wonderful BLOGAUDIANS, that no words could ever hope to express it.
If Paula hadn't done this to me back in 1980, I never would have
copyrighted in 1981, that stupid LOIS-FOCA crap. No time travelers,
no troubles, 'no nothing'. Oh yes, you tell them Mizz Ross. WOW all
of this, JOANN-A.
Boy
oh boy, and HO-HO-HO, Patty and Merry. I always wondered why
Christmas was such an endless time for me to be ruthlessly,
viciously, and relentlessly persecuted, by HALLS-FAWCES,
AKA the WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES?????????!!!!!!!!!!
Then there was ten years ago back on Friday. Coming out of that
incredible dream, while residing there with those horrible nightmare
KINGS, at the judge's rental home at 65 Middle Road, in
Hammonton-Berryville. WOW THIS, kind Sheriff, sir. Psychiatrists call
the event that I had, a dreaming resurfacing of a repressed memory
brought on by extreme clinical level stress factors and other
underlying psychosis. Hey, I've said it before,
Treasure Coast Automobile RIP-OFFS, and I'm sure I'll be
saying it again as well. “I'd like to see anyone of you in the
entire world suffer through all of this nightmare since leaving
effing high school, and remaining one percent sane and
alive”!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But yes, the wild dream where I was back on
freaking Long Island with my damn snooty Uncle Heinz and the gang.
The road trip up the In-Law Cousin Myers branch of the Huntington
family, and the whole damn nasty mess that would have been so much
better all damn ass left alone!!!!!!!!!!!! Then
I had to always be taking Dawn-Marie King to her psychiatrists, just
one block further west down on Tennessee Avenue, near the Atlantic
Avenue intersection. Then there was that day with the
Rent-A-Center place. That was a
real damn doozie-whopper; huh old
pal, President
Obama? Boy oh boy do I
miss you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God dog it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
the entire world has gone to Dogtown in a hand basket. WOW-THAT! At
least I am not seeing my kid all plastered on three huge walls, after
she comes to me in a powerful dream and tells me that she'll be
seeing me the next day when I go to Atlantic City. One thing about
the great Donald John Trump, and nobody out here can say otherwise or
take his fantastic wisdom away from him. Back in middle-late 2015
somewhere, after he had thrown his hat into the political race for
the presidency, he said, and I quote, “I GOT OUT OF ATLANTIC CITY,
I SAW THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL”! You're a very intelligent dude,
distant cuzz. I'll effen fight anybody who dares to ever say anything
different!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You
see folks, the scientists of 2018 in this particular reality in
hyperspace, are clueless to how and why things are atomically locked
into time, as well as exactly why things work the way that Mister
Einstein's formula's show them to. If Leticia Tilley had indeed been
who Mister Trump thought it might be, incredibly complex things would
be happening, and unlike the fiction writers or the formula
researchers with all of their ideas, a ghost-image has an atomic
weight, because everything on the Astral Plane has some weight. It
may be one times some number with a trillion negative zeros following
it, but nothing is weightless, except in absolute singularity of
zero-dimension. Altering the velocity in certain acceleration curves
will cause the mind that is connected to the nuclear universe, to
indeed alter. It is not just a mechanical clock that runs faster, or
anything else that is physical that matters. None of these things
would change and there would be no speed limit, if not for the fact
that mind itself runs at a speed, for lack of a better way of putting
it. As a physical traveler would approach the velocity that the
photon runs on that is responsible for endlessly duplicating a
reality, there are other factors that come into play. Naturally to
really get into it all would take a book the size of a small hill.
Not Robin, not Sugar, not even Linden, but a small one nonetheless,
from here to the gods only know where. When we want to do a basic
experiment in traveling, the concept of numerous occult practices
always comes to mind with just about everyone in the entire world.
Seeing your mind in a truer way means seeing that you do not exist
inside of any time system. These are all dreams. Still, some dreams
take place where protons and electrons have one charge, and then
there are other dreams where an opposite charge is taking place. Time
cannot run in two opposing directions ever, in any physical space.
Even the Star Trek Syfy writers use the concept of a containment
field for these two types of truths. But rapping this up before it
gets too complicated, we all know that we dream, and we dream of
places and people and things that we never ever have seen here in
waking life. Any one of these dream places, should you be able to
'turn it into some physical reality', would have opposing charges in
these sub-particles, the electrons and the protons. Should this ever
be able to be done, most likely all of everything would instantly
find identical parts to themselves, and one side would run at the
speed of infinity in one direction, while the other would run at the
speed of infinity in the opposite direction, and there would be a
zero dimensional system in place of the nuclear universe, because all
of reality would cancel out. Tiny amounts of mass being turned into
energy, in theory at least, would cause some big problems. But when I
did that silly version of that damn song that Paula gave me, I wasn't
trying to scare anybody. I simply know for a fact, that the great DJT
was off his nut scared that day, because he thought that maybe I was
going to blow it all up. I have better things to do in this life than
be responsible for the end of humanity, YO!
SHORT-BLOG, BUT
MAJOR BLOG
BLOG
40 OF TWENTY-EIGHTEEN
10/04/2018-just
shy of ten A.M.
Sheriff Mascara,
sir, if I hadn't taken my anti-anxiety medication a few hours ago
around a bit shy of seven this morning, I'd be driving over to your
office RIGHT NOW, TODAY. But I know that when I do a bedtime dose, it
is not 100% safe for me to drive, so I DO NOT.
Here is what these
diseased toilet germ licking twat scum swallowers just did to me
about an ago back around half past goddamn eight.
I
was suddenly instantly STRUCK HARD WITH THEIR DEATH RAY BOWEL BLOW
OUT ATTACK. After my run to the mother ******* toilet, kind
sir, I had to clean up six spots on my carpets outside the bathroom.
I didn't mother ******* make it. No one could with whatever the ****
eating hell 'they' hit me with. This goddamn death beam ray of some
type of beyond subsonic perfectly aimed signal. Sheriff, I truly am
sorry. This has been ongoing now since the mother ******* ****
huffing middle of turd chewing 1986. I have to
use my ELECTRONIC-METAPHYSICS system to counterstrike these evil
soulless sub-scum monster filth wipe eating puke fems. I have
no choice. I am otherwise powerless to fight this hell on me for 32
years and 50 days, kind sir. It isn't even ten this morning yet,
Sheriff KJM sir, and yet my WeatherBug shows just under a 90 degree
heat index, and an actual temperature of 82. It is supposed to be a
brutal 90 degree day with a heat index topping a buck. Here
I sit, old and frail, with mediocre rotten ******* air conditioning;
and ON TOP OF THAT, these monkey puss swallowing hell whores have to
strike down my elderly senior citizen body and defile my mother
******* apartment with making me **** myself all over the damn ass
room like a **** sucking two year old! These
health attacks on me are relentless and frightening, sir.
They never ever stop, and they don't give a rats fart in holy hell
how old I am. They'll do this to me until
they covertly knock me into the ground forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well sir, this blog is posting up to the social media blog world, as
a LEGAL AND BINDING DYING UTTERANCE
AND DYING DECLARATION. When I am
found dead and murdered in this damn apartment, I
WAS MURDERED, and these damn blogs tell my true story of
all those people who I accuse of my goddamn murder; as Goddess
Jehovah Krassle is my witness, and if this is a lie,
please burn me in eternal damn hellfire, oh great Almighty I
AM!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MORIANITY
FOR MILLENNIUM 3
It truly is beyond a
stinking lousy rotten crying shame, that I had to be born with the
unfathomable and horrendous mission, of becoming the CHOSEN
HUNTINGTON. My sixty-first grand-father's Uncle Jesus of
Nazareth would be turning over in his grave, watching me suffer so
badly for so incredibly long; except for the fact that he is not in
his grave. We were all told that there was a resurrection. Still,
what a damn flying shame with or without any and all TV sets, or
Britney Speers song ripoffs, going off
inside her head. Don't pick on her? Hey wackos, don't pick
on me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “The
sand below me is so very brightly contrasted, white and black grains
just like the dots on my TV
set”.
THEE-MOST
magical and suspicious human being, that this world ever
gave human birth to, is Alias Julia White, and
AKA Patricia Hollister of my distant past from up north, as I
have been a Floridian now for nearly nine
years. More information on her will be forthcoming as the
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN continue
along, kind people, pweeeeeeeze bear with me!!!!!!!!!!!
I
have discussed some basic instructions regarding PATRICIA
HOLLISTER, AND HER MAGICAL
INFORMATION KNOWN TO A HANDFUL ON THIS PLANET, AS THE
FASCITAR. I discussed my moms great shipping company coworker
also, up to a point. We can add a whole lot more at a later time. For
right now on this goddamn Thursday morning, on October the 5th,
of inverted Robin Hill Apartments, the first of three stays, (2018)
(1802); just know that we haven't so much as cut one slice of bread
off of this bakery shop pile a mile high. As I speak, and for about
the tenth time or more in the past five damn hours or so, at five
minutes past ten this moUUUUUUUUUrning, MORTIMER
MORTINO, AKA THE ANGEL OF DEATH by the great wonderful
Jewish folks, and yes, happy 70th birthday great dudes and
duddesses; is passing by my right side. He refuses to ever tap either
one of my shoulders. He seems to only keep scanning my position.
Obviously he knew that the damn HALLS-FAWCES,
or 'WOMO', would be striking me
with a death attack to my damn ass body, so he needs to stay around
to monitor the situation. Well, here is my situation, and as the
lovely Lizzy McGuire Hillary Duff would say so well, back about
thirteen years or so ago, “Right back at
you”!
©
BOM 2006-2018 MARK WAYNE MOHR
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
YUK-YUK-YUK,
WHAT A SUCKER!
YUK-YUK-YUK,
WHAT A SUCKER!
YUK-YUK-YUK,
WHAT A SUCKER!
YUK-YUK-YUK,
WHAT A SUCKER!
YUK-YUK-YUK,
WHAT A SUCKER!
YUK-YUK-YUK,
WHAT A SUCKER!
YES
ULTIMATE FIGHTER DAVID, I AM STILL WASHING
MY HANDS
OF ALL OF YOU, SO TELL THAT TO THE ROMAN
EMPEROR,
AS WELL AS PAULA
THE GREAT KING!
YO, a
full blown 'TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON',
is someone who really and honestly is in full control,
when
they wish to be.
I do not say that this is every time that they sleep
and dream.
It requires lots of effort to master even basic introductory
meditative concepts, that even approach the simplest forms of
dream-control.
Mortimer
Mortino is now passing by my goddamn left side at 10:18, for about
the thirteenth mother ******* time since midnight. This is goddamn
totally wedikawuss, Mister Mack Soapmouth Kaiter, YO!!!!!!!!! Still,
this
has been going on for 32+ years, and things in my **** chewing life
were definitely NOT
JELLY AND JAM
even before August of 1986.
So WOW and Boy oh ******* boy, Joann-a!!!!!!!!!!!
What
an ***hole I am, BRAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Still, without fail, ever since those times where this nightmare all
got a damn foothold on my hellish life; whenever
that dirt bag piece of scum (P-45), needs to have things go his way,
LIKE
MAGIC, POOF, HARASS AND PERSECUTE HIS OLD ARCH RIVAL, MARK
WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN MOHR,
and this causes
him to win,
while sending me endlessly into the **** huffing doghouse of endless
pathetic hell!
'BE
CAREFUL',
PAULA KING & ROBERT MCGUIRE, YO. Maybe Regis and I are watching
you when you least damn ass expect it. WEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
Sheriff sir, my life is beyond total toast.
Every single time, since my nightmares all started going from frying
pan intensity,
directly into FIRE-INTENSITY,
on August 15, 1986; it was all a result of ICPE-APE-TECH;
something not from this world, Mister David
Childress,
and Professor Michio
Kaku
of NYU.
One
damn minute, a
chopper turns into the great pulsar star,
and then ten damn years later almost and 1,350 miles away, some
fireworks
turn into this thing.
My shrink at the Behavioral Health Clinic, where I get my
anti-anxiety prescriptions, tells me that this is a normal event that
happens a few times to most people in their life. They think they are
awake, but they have fallen asleep. I promise you that I
was not asleep at Cifaloglio, when that mind bending chopper on
steroids, flew over, and almost landed in the property's parking
area.
Good
old Hydroglacia. She
is a very beautiful star.
A real star too, not some man-made celeb! So WOW all of that, great
Joann and Joanna.
My kid thinks so much of this is a laugh a minute. Hey, if it makes
her happy, I say that whatever gets her, or anyone else for that
matter through the damn long nights; is fine by me! Yes
Almighty Nuclatron (GOD),
we know what the real deal is around here. I merely have the damn
mother ******* testicles to say stuff, BRO! Then
it turned back into the Pulsar Star,
and it rose higher and higher into the early morning sky. And then
states away, and a decade ahead in time; the fireworks never came
down on the fifth shoot up, over the lake outside of Mike Patterson's
apartment, down in Hollywood, Florida. Then
there it was, just there, the great Pulsar Star, or as I call her,
Hydroglacia!!!!!!!!!
MY BLOGS TOLD ALL OF THIS POWERFUL TRUTH LONG
BEFORE IT EVEN GOT THE SMALLEST START
IN SPACE-TIME-MIND, and
the goddamn RUSSIA FOLKS know this to be 100% the truth.
THAT,
SIR ROCKDROID ROTTENBERRY, is why
they have been reading these
blogs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA,
MISTER MIKE MCNULTY, YO!
Somebody
very soon is going to be super super fucking sorry for these attacks
on innocent poor little MOUNTAINPEN!!!!!!!
THE
TORTURE AND SLOW MURDER OF MARK WAYNE MOHR BY TRUMP AND HIS MOB,
CHAPTER
86
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2020
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
THIS
BLOGGER WILL REMOVE ANY © MATERIAL UPON
REQUEST.
Feb
13, 2020
12:00
PM
– Feb
20, 2020
11:00
AM
|
Krystal's Ball
Guarantee
and disclaimer information:
Anyone
using this and is not satisfied,
can have $5.00 back!
Publisher: Krystal's Ball
Rating:
Price: 0.99 USD
(ninety-nine pennies) Just
how cheap are folks?
The
joke is that this is worth 100,000 bucks, and I would say this to any
damn district attorney in this nation, as I know how powerful this
thing really truly is.
You
will have to prove to me that this does not work for you, I am no
fool!
DOWNLOAD
@ GOOGLE
PLAY STORE
COUNTERSTRIKE
OF 1:19 PM, ON 7 MAY, 2020:
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 DEATH
ASSAULT EVER SINCE MIDDLE 2019, AND ON THIS CURRENT DAY OF
7 MAY OF 2020, WITH MAJOR
DOOR SLAMMING ELDER ABUSE NOISE, STARTING AT 11:00 IN THE MORNING
WITH THOSE DIRT BAG
ILLEGAL NABES ACROSS FROM ME, IN UNIT #608;
and that is all a part of DONALD
TRUMP'S ICPE-APE-TECH
death strike
on me since August 15
of 1986;
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.
Yes
peeps, I think almost two hundred times around this thing is more
than enough; yet quite obviously, I
thought this same thing last time I sat here typing a similar blog,
and yet I keep coming back to that SELF sitting on that train,
and thinking, “This
is where it all began”,
lovely Mizz
Sabrina
Collins.
Hey put some color
in your hair lady. They sold that shit in the nineteen-sixties, just
as they do right now here in 2020, mahm! But don't scream out to the
son of a LBI resident who happens to be a fictional
cop-SVU-detective in Manhattan,
NYUSAESMWG, about being a werewolf, or for that matter, “seeing
one”. I
know in 1983 a similar thing happened to me, but instead of me' hair
turning bright white, let's follow the example here of Camden,
NJUSAESMWG's great security officer, Sir
Bob Schleigh, and “BE REAL”.
Instead of me' hair turning white, something just as wild and fucking
outlandish happened to me' “glandular system”, and to word this a
bit more succinctly here, to me 'lymphatic glands deep inside me'
throat; oh great and powerful and illustrious 20-20 CENCUS!!!!!! Yes,
“this has gone on now as far as she fucking goes”, to quote me'
mother fucking father, from the great
ass Bicentennial year of 1976
while we shared an apartment at the great and infamous CARRIAGE-LAMP,
on the White Horse Pike (Route-30), in Clementon, NJUSAESMWG. I
believe Sir Chester-Frank Sir Shoeknockeroutter, would be uttering
his great, and vely vely vely long word now of,
“WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”!!!
I
warned the fucking MILITUFORCE
to back shit off of me, and now I am planning to tell my entire story
to the government, and they can then check it all out and see if I do
or do naut actually have quite an incredible daughter. And they say
that this is naut the great year of vision, you know, as in perfect
20-20 fucking vision. Wanna' fucking cunt cut me a break here, lovely
Mizz 1985 Margie Leo?????????????? But yo, that's only half of the
equation. The other HUUUUUUUUUGE thing I will do is create an APP
that allows anyone to take ANYTHING, from roulette to any and every
pattern that shows up in our lives, to simply accurately enter in the
new updated data, and the program will tell you what to do next until
more data is then added again, such as with roulette, and playing
ONE-LONG-GAME. Wanna' push me this hard mother fucking shit eating
MILITUFAWCES, well then fine and dandy candy pants and rants, because
I promise that I'll be more than happy to oblige you here,
PARTNA'!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hey lovely ass GINA-1997, did I naut warn them?
Did I naut TELL THEM AND TELL THEM AND TELL THEM, and not about some
silly ass arm wrestling contest for crying out goddamn loud, FONTY???
I try to cut even horrendous rotten enemies breaks, but even I have
me' mother fucking limits; yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm as kind and sweet as the next dirt
bag you'll meet on the street, but hey Mack Katy and Katy P yo; “This
is absolutely mother loving WEEDEEKAWUSS, BREEEEEEE!!!!!!! I am also
quite enlightened and open minded, butTERCHEESE and BIG ASS BUTT-but,
when it comes to turning the other cheek, even our wonderful LORD
only said to turn it once. After that, Sir Jesus said nothing on the
subject at all. I suppose that HIS magical forgiveness number expires
at some point just as the expiry dates with foods. In any case, you
be your own damn judges on shit like this, me' great folksingers and
me' great Microsoft Corporation FOLKS! Enlightenment and forgiveness
can be overdone as well as abused. I learned that from the Christians
from my own past, or at least, those professing to be followers of
JESUS CHRIST, as our present times Evangelical and Televangelist
phony bologna groupations. The global enlightenment and
its teachings, from the endlessly persecuted mountainpen, like WO, as
many young peeps might say. Yes folks and folksingers alike; I am as
enlightened as it gets, but I have me' mother loving limits on just
how far I plan to forgive and forget this inconceivably wicked ass
MILITUFORCE. So AHA-AHA-AHA Mike MCNY!
Guess
who just mother fucking totally nailed me with her ONES-GROUPATION
AGAIN?
You guessed the guests heredahelda and HERE, sweet adorable
folksingers and FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!! Miss
Rottenjane Shitpants Sleazeweedsdisease Notfondauonebit!!!!!!!!
SO
HERE IS ME' COMPENSATION:
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
I
HAVE HAD EIGHT FUCKING MAJOR DEATH ANGEL ASSAULTS NOW JUST
SINCE I BEGAN THIS BLOG ABOUT AN AGO AGO; SHERIFF KEN MASCARA, ME'
KIND SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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!
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!
THANK-UUUUUUUUUUUUUU,
all great NYUSAESMWG eats places and their lovely waitresses. You
know it's funny as all shit. Mashell
Daniels
married a dude, and he worked in Hellyweird, and his name matches
that of the producer of that great 2009 movie. Our 'HUUUUUUUUUUGE'
debate that night at
the recording studio
was about IRC's, or for those who may naut know what that stands for,
try “mixed
race marriages”,
“interracial couples”, or a zillion other similar things such as
these. All I did that night was say that things like this bring
problems for people, and that my mom always told me that life has
enough crap in it without adding more junk to our plate. No harm no
fowl. She is right, and just as I thought she was wrong, poof, the WP
peeps and their secret-leader Mister Trump come along, and look at
where we are. And they say we can;t turn back the clock. Well
Mashell, I do still thank you honey cakes, for your permission that
allows me, and “entitles me to my opinion”. I meant nothing wrong
at all, and was merely stating the obvious and keeping things real,
so as to please me' other 'coworker' down on Jefferson Street a mile
or so away, Security
Officer Schleigh.
So WOW-THAT!!!!!!!!! I won't lie. I believe there is a good chance
that her EX could be Lee's pop. Things like this occur in me' life
with such intense and incredible regularity, that NOTHING
IN THE WORLD EVER SURPRISES ME ANY LONGER!!!
I
just GOOGLED up this info, yo BRAH!
Highest
hourly minimum wage states:
About 183,000,000 results (0.88 seconds)
Search Results
Featured snippet from the web
State
|
2019 Minimum
Wage
|
2020 Minimum
Wage
|
---|---|---|
Maryland
|
$10.10
|
$11.00
|
Massachusetts
|
$12.00
|
$12.75
|
Michigan
|
$9.45
|
$9.65
|
Minnesota
|
$9.86**
|
$10.00**
|
•
Dec 6, 2019
Massachusetts HERE I
COME. I am so fucking adddddddahele Governor Desantis and Sheriff
Mascara, yo.
The great GOOGLE also says thissssssss: People also ask
Which
state has the highest minimum wage 2019?
State
|
2018 Minimum Wage
|
2019 Minimum Wage
|
---|---|---|
Arizona
|
$10.50
|
$11.00
|
Arkansas
|
$8.50
|
$9.25
|
California
|
$11.00*
|
$12.00*
|
Colorado
|
$10.20
|
$11.10
|
•
Jul 1, 2019
Minimum Wage By State 2018 & 2019 | Paycor
www.paycor.com
› minimum-wage-by-state-and-2018-increases
Search for: Which
state has the highest minimum wage 2019?
Which state in the US has the highest minimum wage?
That
night, watching those Star Trek
shows, while living at 112
Harvard Avenue, Somerdale, New Jersey, USA, Earth, Sol, Milky
Way Galaxy, in 1996, in the autumn on the 30th
Anniversary of their TELEVISION SHOW PRODUCTION LAUNCH;
memories flooded in that I could not handle, leading to the wild
dreams the following year of the Publishing Clearinghouse's PCN-231
PRIZE-PATROL truck
with that co-ed named K. J. McAllister, who won that January of 1997;
and then the wild song that led to the 2012 production and 2013
Copyright of ''Wanna' Spend My Time'',
the fence at Eden's great garden, and
a lot more. This is when I was looking nearby the television
set, little as it may have been Mizz Britney Lavino, and Mister
Stanley Crooked Bernstein; and as that great voted-number-1 episode
of STAR TREK was airing, suddenly a voice kept saying while I was
staring off of the TV set and onto my venetian blinds, “Sarah
Kessle, Sarah Kessle”. All of these things are on my earlier
parts of this now freaking ass ten year blog project that we all know
as 'MORIANITY', YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Later on, we can get to how the
venetian blinds, the episode on the show
called, ''THE TROUBLE WITH TRIBBLES'',
and a bit more, all brought me parsecs ahead of where I would have
been ''spiritually'', if these events were not all LAWTRONICALLY
PROGRAMMED to happen, and so, they did, Mister Pharaoh of all
babbling's, on and on and on; AKA Babylon,
for shorter and abridged sayings, and codings, of all wild strange
rhyming rhythms, in all parallel universes everywhere in the
multiversal hyperspace, AKA the fifth dimension, Mizz Marilyn McCoo,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes folksingers and great folks out here in this
quite mysterious globally traveling Blogaudian-ship; I think that the
mind is the most incredible tool and item ever known to exist,
especially when it converts off of the Purgatory and divides by C-SQ
and becomes a human brain that's inside of all of us. All these more
than twenty fucking years, and FINALLY, I see the truth to that night
where I was watching those STAR TREK shows on their 30-YEAR
anniversary in 1997, and POOF, those wild thoughts racing in me' head
while looking off of where the TV set was, and onto me' venetian
blinds, and then hearing for no logical reason whatsoever, “Sarah
Kessel, Sarah Kessel” inside of me'; damn head. Well, I think now
that these great ASTRAL-PLANE GODS just love to BLIND US ALL with
their ENDLESS SILLY STUPID GAMES, and Morianity has naut ever been
shy with anyone out there reading me' words, about JUST YYYYYYYYY
THESE GODS/GODDESSES PLAY THEIR GAMES ANDNEED TO HAVE THEIR GAMES. It
is a distraction away from the constant and continual reminder of the
TIMELESSNESS OF THE PURGATORY (ASTRAL-PLANE)!!!!!!!!!!! And
eventually, I may even glean some additional enlightened knowledge
and wisdom of just how that particular Star Trek episode caused me'
unconscious MIND to create that connection of the GODS BLINDING US
WITH GAMES!!!!!!!!!!
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile
views – 3046
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2020
MY BLOGS:
Signs and symptoms of colorectal cancer
Colorectal
cancer may cause one or more of the symptoms below. If you have any
of the following you should see your doctor:
- A change in bowel habits, such as diarrhea, constipation, or narrowing of the stool, that lasts for more than a few days
- A feeling that you need to have a bowel movement that is not relieved by doing so
- Rectal bleeding
- Blood in the stool which may make it look dark
- Cramping or abdominal (belly) pain
- Weakness and fatigue
- Unintended weight loss
Colorectal
cancers can bleed. While sometimes the blood can be seen or cause
the stool to become darker, often the stool looks normal. The blood
loss can build up over time, though, and lead to low red blood cell
counts (anemia). Sometimes the first sign of colorectal cancer is a
blood test showing a low red blood cell count.
Most
of these problems are more often caused by conditions other than
colorectal cancer, such as infection, hemorrhoids, irritable bowel
syndrome, or inflammatory bowel disease. Still, if you have any of
these problems, it's important to see your doctor right away so the
cause can be found and treated, if needed.
Last Medical Review: 10/15/2014
Last Revised: 08/13/2015
http://www.cancer.org/cancer/colonandrectumcancer/detailedguide/colorectal-cancer-signs-and-symptoms
Gorgeous
inmate Alice Ciminelli
said it all; on the greatest mother fucking dick licking law show,
to ever grace the lands of television; Dick
Wooooooolf's
Law&
Order.
She said, referring to the prison guards (Correction Officers or
CO's for short), “They
have all the power”!
Folks, fuck the dam CO's. The people in this classification and
category, can be thought of as the
quintessential anti-bums.
But it ain't the dam correction officer people who have all the
power; only all the power in the prison system. The
billionaire's have it all,
and that lovely teen girl protester, who spoke to President Nixon,
suddenly seemed to gain that revelation. Watch the great movie;
another
great Ollie Stone production, called, “NIXON”.
This
sudden coming upon her,
while speaking to the true most powerful person on Planet Earth,
or how true might be a bit relative, but still; this
knowing something suddenly is a very serious and quite mysterious
matter.
It is called, MORIANITY.
It
finds us, we don't create or find Morianity.
Cosmos decides literally to single out pieces of itself, to make
revelations clear to them that would otherwise remain absolutely
mysterious and ever-unknown!!!!
I
DON'T WANNA' FUCKING HEAR IT, NEW KID!
BLOG
STATS, AS OF 5:15
PM,
ON 10/18/2015:
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GLOBAL
AUDIENCE IN SHADE RATIO:
MEGAHELL
ON
STEROIDS,
CHAPTER
0000
Still,
being chocked to death began in 1983, and was made far worse in 2015.
But they didn't kill me, and they couldn't kill me. Highland
Avenue-1984 Mark Wayne Mohr, just keeps doing the COPPERTOP BATTERY
Dance of Forever; Peter Paul Pedersen Pan
Geico!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
WAS SO SCARED THAT DAY IN MAY, WHILE YOU'RE FAVORITE GAME
YOU'D PLAY. AS YOUR 1-2-3, KEPT SIGNALLING ME THAT YOU'RE THERE. I
DIDN'T SEE JUST HOW, OR WHAT I HAD. AND INSTEAD I GOT SO MAD. I TOOK
OUT THE PHONE, AND WAS CUT OFF ALONE, AND I MADE MY BABY
SAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM SO SO SO SORRY, MY WONDERFUL LOVELY
BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING.
Three
more fucking annoying death angels, or a total of eleven since
starting this blog, have struck me now, most of them om me' right
side, and only a couple on me' left side.
As
I said, and now reiterate because it's of major dam importance:
Using the Fascitar, and having the knowledge of where to go, once
you apparently seem to wake up into PLANK, or (the purgatory),
astral or spiritual existence, of thought equals instantaneous
reality duplication; is step one. Step two is when you are on the
Astral-Plane, your very first thought needs to be, I wish to be
with the Almighty Goddess in the capitol city (heaven) (GOD) or
however any one of you reading these words is more comfortable
saying it; and when correctly mastered, which takes the average
man or woman or teenager, about one to two weeks of three days a
week practice; you will get your mind blown so far that it will
not ever be what it was before you went.
Here
is the magical FASCITAR. What people don't get is just how
powerful this shit really and truly is. If I tried to charge
$1,000.00 to send these instructions to you, printed on super
fancy U. S. mint type of paper and printed on some wild brew of
ink, you would all say it was valuable. That is how fuckiGN stupid
people of Planet Earth are. I am giving away the fuckign mint, and
most everyone alive is saying, “screw you Mountainpen”! Well,
I am still giving it away. Even the great Mizz Know-It-All from
1974 only knew part of this. The final part is never printed or
wasn't, not in 1969 when new copies were retrieved from a lost
Mayan culture from the stars, or some other crap the AAT Club
might dream up. I already know there is only one world that
counts, and anything else is a bunch of illusion and shit.
Lay
down on a flat comfortable surface, and be sure it is dark and
quiet. If you need to wear a blindfold and put ear-buds in with
some white noise repeating looped sound track, do it. It is best
to be unclothed, but 'whatever' to quote my old 1975 pal, Bob
Andrews! Those living alone or in any situation where they can do
this in a private room, dark and quiet, will receive the best and
quickest successful results. But don't lose hope when it won't
happen on your first try. I don't know one dam Tibetan Guru who
got it oon their first try. You only need to actually DO two
steps. The first part of the four things you need to do, as well
as the fourth; merely need to be mastered by repetition. For those
who know of and practiced stuff, such as what you'll find in
Robert Monroe's great book on the subject of 'astral-projection',
throw away all the shit you think you know about this topic, and
merely begin all over again as though this is all totally new to
you. His stuff may or may not work for various people, but I
assure you that you will not be able to accomplish the results
that the Fascitar will bring to you, once you master its
unfathomable secret, and develop this quite outlandish skill.
STEP
ONE OF FOUR:
You
need to feel divinely blissful.
In order to do this, while laying motionless in your dark quiet
solitude; you
must learn to daydream.
Even people such as me, with rotten lives, can daydream. All of us
no matter what, have something somewhere, that pretending this is
surrounding you; would make you feel almost giddy and high,
naturally
of
course. Don't confuse this with step-2, as things may appear
similar, but they are not really. Each step needs to be done. You
must follow this to an exact tee, no cheating, and no exceptions
to the rule. So find something in
your life that totally tops your number ten list
for
things you look back on and go, 'Oh shit was that mind bending
cool and wonderful, squared'! Fixate on that thing that is a ten
with a double bullet in your cap, and pretend it is all around
you. When I did this, I used my times at the Atlantic City beaches
in 1969, when Ziggy and I enjoyed swims, and talks together; and
had a really cool time. This is not done over and over as the next
step item I talk about needs to be done. This instead is done but
once, but you keep doing it until you almost feel a tingling
sensation, from the happy feelings pulsating throughout you. If
you do this right, and wasn't born in prison or hell, and find the
right thing in your life to remember; you will get that divine
blissful feeling of ecstasy, and without using stupid sixty hippie
drugs to get there. Once you reach the end of step-1, we move onto
step two.
STEP
TWO OF FOUR:
This
is where you operate a two-part instruction system that may seem
ridiculous and stupid. Following it precisely however; is key to
your success in becoming a skilled user of Fascitar. Choose a
person or place that you wish to visit. Yes, I told you this would
seem to be a lot like step-1. It isn't. It needs to be followed
very carefully. You need to do it ten times, so don't make the
daydream real long with a million twists and turns like in some
James Bond thriller. Keep it reasonably simple. Visualize your
spirit essence sort of oozing out of your body as if an elephant
were to step on a very large tube of toothpaste. After this, and
have your road map clear in your mind, begin your journey.
Remember this must be run like a tape in your mind, and the
precise number of ten repetitions is pivotal for making this work.
When I used to do this after my mom brought home this wild
information from her office, I would choose a person to visit and
tell them to call me on the telephone. I did this with two people,
and they both called me. This is real folks, not some parlor trick
game. Don't mess with this unless you truly want to prove to
yourself that life and death is a big hoax, and that your true
self is not contained in your current physical housing or shell,
(body). So whatever it might be, keep it about 30-90 seconds long,
but concentrate hard, and don't mock this thing, because if you do
it correctly and take it seriously, you'll be in for the shock of
your life that you don't need any fucking illegal drugs like LSD
or any of it, to take mind bending trips outside of ordinary
reality, and see the results even, should you wish to, as did I.
Again I stress that you need to do this ten times, not 8, not 9,
not 11, not 12, BUT
TEN TMES! Once
you reach the end of step-2, we move onto step three.
STEP
THREE OF FOUR:
This
also is a rote item, where you must do the following thing,
exactly
6 TIMES.
This
is where you command your astral body, silently in your mind, to
leave you in several hours, and go and do what you just imagined,
whatever that may have been. You are totally free to change that
up each time you practice this procedure, but you must stay with
this exact 'trip' in each individual practice session. You are
free to command your astral-body to leave you and go on that
imagined-journey, in 3 hours, or 2, or 4, or whatever you
personally feel comfortable with, but the idea is that you need an
hour to fall asleep and be asleep physically, minimum, and then,
depending on if you are a light sleeper who never sleeps without
waking up much past 3 hours, you need to adjust the timing to your
own personal needs and physical habits, based on your sleep
habits, bladder weakness, and other situations. Once
you reach the end of step-3, we move onto step four.
STEP
FOUR OF FOUR:
This
is that magic part that I will give you from a lot of personal
experience. It won't be found in any mystery-texts from Mayan
ruins to the mountains of Tibet, or anywhere on this planet. I
promise you that. Most if not all people who succeed in this
occult exercise, will wake up into a waking-freeze state. Your
muscles freeze up when you dream, because if they didn't, you
would have a high probability of injuring yourself in your body
while having nightmares, at various points of your life. Some
people can have limited mobility as they go in-between dream and
waking states, and many a spouse has the black eye to prove that,
unless wife dear or hubby boy is using the excuse to belt his or
her significant other and get away with it. Still, all joking
aside; I'll move on. This exercise will eventually cause you to
wake up asleep. This is when your original trip that you may or
may not remember with your conscious mind, has ended; but you now
are in 100% absolute control over a new trip and dream, and you
can enter hyperspace from that point, or move off the physical
hyperspace, and onto the ASTRAL-PLANE (the Purgatory). You can do
this at will, and you will have no trouble whatsoever doing this,
IF that is, you are aware of what is happening to you at this
magical point, and can properly take control and keep calm,
because numerous things will happen to most people who do this,
and end up awake in a dream in their bed. While awake in this
dream, you will see your room clearly, and it will appear to move
in two parts, almost like windshield wipers in a car. You also
will hear a buzzing wine type of sound, that is almost nauseating.
You may feel your heart go faster, and then just stop abruptly,
but this is a pure illusion. You don't need to have a beating
heart, to be dreaming. A doctor will disagree, but they cannot
grasp the higher stuff that is being talked about in these
instructions. My point however to all of this is that you need to
get past the fear. You will experience a blast of fear like
nothing you can imagine, because mortal life is all we remember
when we are inside of it, and we think we are dying or dead in
this wild new condition, along with sounds and visions that become
very scary to even the biggest cons in the prison yards. They fear
dying just like all of you do. But
you MUST GET BEYOND THAT FEAR
to
make the Fascitar work for you. This is the really powerful part
and step, because getting to the mountaintop so to speak is great,
but not if after we get there, someone steals our shoes and our
coat and we must turn back and go home. When you reach the point
where you can wake up frozen, and then instead of commanding your
higher self (astral-body) to go somewhere, which in truth nothing
ever really goes anywhere, as we are not even here to begin with;
but don't try tackling that crap right now folks; but when you
reach that point, this is when you need to just will yourself and
see yourself on the ASTRAL-PLANE. I don't even will myself there
first and then to any particular interaction there in the purg. I
will myself from my bed, straight into the great capitol city of
Sahasra Dal Kanwal, or (HEAVEN) by your religious systems. Now I
am not saying that doing this won't totally alter your life. Even
big Oprah Winfrey knows that it does, and had a lady on her show,
back when she had her show on network-television, in the middle
nineteen-nineties. She'll remember this lady if you ask her about
this, and then show her these words of Fascitar. I know 95% of my
audience are big shots who know her well. Go ahead, put me to the
test, and see if I fail your credibility meter!
YARRRR
MAITEES, MY FUCKING EARS ARE UNDERNEATH MY FUCKING HAT, PATTY
HOLLISTER.
YARRRR
MAITEES, MY FUCKING EARS ARE UNDERNEATH MY FUCKING HAT, PATTY
HOLLISTER.
YARRRR
MAITEES, MY FUCKING EARS ARE UNDERNEATH MY FUCKING HAT, PATTY
HOLLISTER.
YARRRR
MAITEES, MY FUCKING EARS ARE UNDERNEATH MY FUCKING HAT, PATTY
HOLLISTER.
YARRRR
MAITEES, MY FUCKING EARS ARE UNDERNEATH MY FUCKING HAT, PATTY
HOLLISTER.
YARRRR
MAITEES, MY FUCKING EARS ARE UNDERNEATH MY FUCKING HAT, PATTY
HOLLISTER.
YARRRR
MAITEES, MY FUCKING EARS ARE UNDERNEATH MY FUCKING HAT, PATTY
HOLLISTER.
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
So
who is Sarah
Krassle?
She
is the absolute GOD OF YOUR WORLD, and mine;
ladies and gentlemen. I
CALL HER PINK GODDESS.
Lenny
McKinnon said it, and I do not believe he said it live on that
CB-RADIO as handle ops man 601, but had it recorded from 1980, the
only year that I ever interacted with him, and this I'll quote,
“There
ain't no doubt about it”.
Just ask the 'DAMN'
© OFFICE.
He supposedly was talking to his co-radio friend, Miss Chillie. Yes,
you got it people; the
great and powerful non-OZ Copyright
Office
has all of this evidence tucked away in my music project files,
UP THERE in good old wonderful WASHINGTON in the great and powerful
DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA. Oh Poolroy, go
home
already.
Now
let us all remain gainfully employed!
THE
END,
AND
STINKING TO DOGTOWN BRIDGE AND BACK!
THE
END,
AND
STINKING TO DOGTOWN BRIDGE AND BACK!
THE
END,
AND
STINKING TO DOGTOWN BRIDGE AND BACK!
THE
END,
AND
STINKING TO DOGTOWN BRIDGE AND BACK!
THE
END,
AND
STINKING TO DOGTOWN BRIDGE AND BACK!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
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