MARK WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN HUNTINGTON MOHR

4:53 POST MERIDIAN

LATE THURSDAY AFTERNOON

7 MAY, 2020

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

THE TORTURE AND SLOW MURDER OF MARK WAYNE MOHR BY TRUMP AND HIS MOB

CHAPTER 87

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I am one very mother fucking pissed off person. I don't give a shit if the stock market goes up a thousand points a day for the next one hundred years, unless I AM FORCED TO BE THE SACRIFICIAL LAMB for its ability to accomplish this lotable goddamn goal, yo!

Yesterday the Dow Jones was down in three digits, so I had to be persecuted and harassed hard today by the MILITUFORCE and their endless TRUMP-CONTROLLED ICPE-APE-TECHNOLOGY, and of course, by doing this; the market shot up well over two hundred today, AS I OF COURSE ABSOLUTELY KNEW THAT IT WOULD, WITHOUT ONE TINY SINGLE WEE IOTA BIT OF GODDAMN DOUBT, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!! So let's explore this further, shall we great people out here? The unemployment rate is more than sixteen percent and every financial expert is predicting at least going to a full 20% B4 all is said and done with this NEW-AGE-BUBONIC-PLAGUE shituation! Yes James Redfield (JRSS), AD-6, PHASE-4 reality, and any and all other dot connecting 'interblogging' proofs of non-random possibilities; as you read the previous blog, CHAPER #86, you will see that again, I merely scrolled through me' OPEN-OFFICE files, and grabbed at 'total random', a 2018 blog, and CAPPED it into the previous work. Of course, just look at how all of it endlessly interconnects the entire nightmares of Mountainpen's eternal hellish reality, and this can of course twin out in verbiage, as the 'HUNTINGTON-CURSE'. When the great scientific community all gathers together in its wise omniscience to proclaim that noise is not code, and thus totally believe that the cosmos is not sending intelligent signals, it refuses to entertain the remotest possibility that I can be correct in my assumptions based on proofs in the year of 1983 while residing in Atco, NJUSAESMWG; when indeed, I managed to teach the ELECTRON how to speak to me in pre-sentence created codes based on controlling the otherwise so-called randomly occurring numbers that would come out when electrical wavelength energy signals would come through my telephone line, and be intercepted through the IMM Corporation machine, called “PRIVECODE”. Nuclear reality has absolutely no desire whatever to communicate with its offspring (US), because to it, we are sounder evolved and totally ignorant to so many powerhouse truths. Sir Dennis Snyder from Elm, No Joysey, could really chime in here with his famous statement. Unless we create a gargantuan grouping of possible pre-word grouping codes, or (made up sentences), these energy realities will never come out and show us anything other than random noise, as the great scientists call it. Those same scientists have no rebuttal however, to my claims to the absolute impossibility of true randomness, based on the cosmos not being an unlimited size. My theories are totally mathematically based, and in al honesty and humility, just cannot be disputed. This is all why things shown in these blogs of the Mountainpen, and in this MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3, follow these exact precise rules and regs. There is no more magic in it than there is in anything that is totally unknown and or completely misunderstood. That night at my Cifaloglio job where I was somehow 'told to tune into WAYV-FM radio', and that nonsense with Paula and Regis, following my daughter's song about her being able to move on in life after bad-parenting situations; well, that along with all of the Blaine and Copperfield tricks is all just that, TRICKS. Because we do not know how to do the tricks however, it appears to us as wild magical shit. It ain't. Sir Dennis sir; do your thing now, willya?

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.

There really and honestly is no other reality to all of these things, only I have yet to even scratch the surface to REALITY-3, PHASE-4, and ICPE-APE-TECH; and some other huge powerful bullshit, that these fourteen and a third years of blogs have merely touched upon. Phase 4 entities or P4E are nothing more than the fantasy's of Astral Entities who attempted to dream-down off of Astrality and into our physical plane of human life, in ways that break the rules of the system or “LAWTRONICS”. So instead of becoming born into a clay being and living the life they tried to bring about in violation of Lawtronically-created systems, they literally become the dreams and imaginary characters of fantasy inside the minds of the PHASE-3 human beings who did make it to here and not in violation of Lawtronics, and this is how the entire fictional system becomes created, along with any and all made of things and or characters from Superman to Batman, to anything at all. Once in a totally blue fuckign moon however, violators do crack through this Lawtronic-Barrier if you will, as did Jim Pratt of “The Permission Barrier”, Julia White of that same 'fictional' book, and of course, Almighty Sir Donnie boy TRUMP, who somehow used me and my magical tape recorder back in the seventies, along with lovely Patty Hollister; to get here in violation of Lawtronics. But if you think this entire story can ever be told, then you're a thousand times more whacked out than you can ever believe me to be on a year of fuckign Sunday's. Still, we all know without doubt or hesitation that certain places as well as time periods are indeed Astral-Physical portals or at least, STRONGPOINTS if you wish to choose that term. 1994 was just as magical and powerful for me as anything in 1983, 1986, or even 1969, because in 1994, when I did indeed write that wild (SO-CALLED) only NOT fictional book called, “The Permission Barrier”; Patty and Merry for one thing here, were only beginning to be operated through, by great TPB-CHARACHTER Mizz Jewelly White, and yes, Shorty MacInvondi. Going any further here would make this blog 1,000 pages long!

Image result for images of lighthouses at night

12:02 POST MERIDIAN

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

7 MAY, 2020

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

THE TORTURE AND SLOW MURDER OF MARK WAYNE MOHR BY TRUMP AND HIS MOB

CHAPTER 86

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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 FUCKING 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 and rational bunch of reasoning behind it. It seems that I occasionally 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 with little white puff clouds floating all around mixed with dissipating jet vapor trails of course, and it is supposed to barely get out of the seventies, and this should last for us for several lovely 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!

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 5^th, 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 70^th 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”!

BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

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

BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

THIS BLOGGER WILL REMOVE ANY © MATERIAL UPON REQUEST.

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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.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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

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:

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!

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**

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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

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Jul 1, 2019

www.paycor.com › minimum-wage-by-state-and-2018-increases

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 30^th 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

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© 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

Arthur Huntington, hung himself in a basement of his home, after murdering his wife and mother in law quite brutally with an ax, in their sleep. What a dam ass LOVELY FAMILY I HAVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE IF YOU PLEASE!!!!

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!

WHAT CAN I SAY, SIR JAY-JAY, DIE-NO-MITE EVANS?

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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.

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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.

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

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

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!

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Apr 24, 2020 4:00 PM – May 1, 2020 3:00 PM

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