SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0346
E-N-D-L-E-S-S----D-E-A-T-H----S-I-E-G-E-----FBI AND COPS:
H---***---E----***---L---***---P****()()()*****M---***---E!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IN THE NAME OF FUCKING CUNT LAPPING SHIT JUSTICE, HELP ME ACLU, HELP ME FEDS, HELP ME LOCALS. THIS IS A MAJOR DYING MANS FUCKING CUNT DECLARATION AND UTTERANCE. I AM BEING MOTHER FUCKING MURDERED. IT IS NOW GOING ON ALL YEAR OF 2012, WITH MAYBE A DAY OFF HERE AND THERE, AND NOW IS 10 DAYS STRAIGHT OF MAJOR SKY FUCKING CUNT PERSECUTION, SUPER FUCKING CUNT CHEMTRAILS ALL OVER IN HUGE GRID AND X PATTERNS, CHANGING THE ENTIRE WEATHER PATTERN, POISIONING EVERYBODY, AND KILLING OFF FLORIDA'S ENTIRE FUCKING ASS CITIZENRY, SO JUST COME HERE TO FORT PIERCE, SKYWITNESS OF YOU-TUBE; WHERE ARE YOU, YO?????????????????????????? THIS IS WEDNESDAY, THURSDAY, FRIDAY, SATURDAY, SUNDAY, MONDAY, TUESDAY, WEDNESDAY, THURSDAY, AND NOW FRIDAY, DAY NUMBER COCK SUCKING FUCKING PRICK EATING TEN-(10) NOW FOLKS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Get your photog shit, and come to my city peeps. Take the wildest sky pix on Planet mother fucking clit eating Earth.
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THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT AND PERSECUTION
INTERNET VERSION AND ANY OTHER FUCKING VERSION
THE ****'''MILLIONTH-COUNCIL'''*** AND ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
AT THE HIGHVIEW FUCKING APARTMENTS IN FUCKING
WILLIAMSTOWN (WILL-I AM-ST-OWN), IN NEW JERSEY, YO.
All titles apply, all copyright notices and oaths given here.
© MARK WAYNE PERSECUTED MOHR OF 1986
2006-2012 BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
MORIANITY-FOUNDATION-2
ENDLESS HELL IS NO ILLUSION, ONLY STM IS:
The persecution in my PHA Building is off the scale, I am all packed up and ready to rent my fucking dick eating U-Haul truck, and get the mother fucking shit swallowing hell ADDDAHERE, MISTER HARRY CALLAS, along with all your wonderful baseballs, my friend.
When I tried to get off of the elevator, peeps were standing right in front of me on purpose, not letting me off intentionally, even after the elevator doors closed and I had reopen them with the OPEN button. I saw Debbie the Manager, and she wants to see me this afternoon, I will be telling her I am gone and out of here, I know when I am not wanted i9n a mother fucking ghetto hell hole, YO!!!!!!!!!!! It seems people are gonna' fucking hate my mother fucking ass guts no matter what I ever do or how nice I ever try to be. P told me that they are all cock suckers and there is nothing I can do to change this, but my question back to my pal P is how come other folks can live and survive without all mother fucking hell breaking loose around them without fail, sooner if not later, all my cunt lapping mother fucking clit diving life since my birth, and if my HUBTIBNGTON FUCKING CURSE is all in my mind and not real, then explain stuff to me so that poor little fucking tortured wehtahd can GET IT, with or without Icabod Crane of southern school integrations of 1982, YO BREEE!!!!!!!!!! P, Y IS THE WORLD PICKING ON ME, IF MY STORY STRAIGHT FROM MOTHER FUCKING HELL IS NOT ALL TRUE, FUCK OPRAH, SHE IS A WORTHLESS OVERPAID PIECE OF FAT CRAP, AND SO ARE ALL OF THE (EW) PLAYERS, YO, KNOWN ON THE ASTRAL PLANE AS THE LAMBRIGGER CULT, or the one third of the great Astral World Authority known also as the “MILLIONTH-COUNCIL”. MY MOTHER TOLD ME TO TELL YOU, FROM THE ASTRAL PLANE, BIG 'O', AND I'LL QUOTE HER FROM LAST NIGHT, BITCH, “YOU'RE WELCOME, AND WE DON'T”.
Despite this attack from HELL, Mariloo Carpenter, my beautiful VIQUEEN of the 363-'VIQUEENS-GANG', ruled by none other than the great SARAH-STACEY-JEHJOVAH-KRASSLE, that gave me a terrific system for attacking the casino game known as mother fucking roulette, is the biggest genius in the multiverse or the many-songs, or endless vibrations of the entire hypertronic hypersphere of total 5th dimensional existence by conscious or awake humans, did I say “AWAKE”, P??????????????????????? Man y powerful words or groups of words have the PCN-550, huh GAGA, here kitty kitty pussy. Wow, let me tell the world that was not observing me via covert satellite continual monitoring, what happened when I exited the building after being literally prevented from originally getting off the elevator by thugs and gangs of vicious nasty trash. I was on my way back to my friend and tax preparer, Ziggy, at his condo on Seaway Drive that leads to the bridge to cross over the Indian river and onto Hutchinson Island and the local seashore of this Floridian area of Fort McCoynemy Hawking, FLUSAESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I needed to relax a quarter hour or so at the local park near the library. Many sluts began coming out of nowhere and sat near me on benches smiling at me. Then when I went to get back to my car and finish my trek over to Ziggy's place to pick up my tax shit, two total tall and beyond lovely mother fucking goddesses just out of their fucking teens, maybe, practically threw themselves right at my car as I came to the intersection from where I was parked, parallel with the library on the street at a two hour parking spot. I am slowing down and they practically maul me to get at me. I drove out of there at warp drive speed and away from these wild crazy sluts. When CHETRAQILS AND SKY PERSECUTION is off the wall bad and won't mother fucking break off, it only grows more incredible, and I don't give a rats fucking ass who laughs and won't believe my true honest words here, but if this does not back off, by the weekend, I could literally be with any of Nick Cannon's kids at the Teen Network or any of the Disney fucking rock stars, and the young pussies would be climbing all over me before they would so much as look at any of these other gorgeous boy hunk types, all young and fucking ass buffed up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have no rational explanation. I only know that this is a powerful PARALLEL EVENT, and that indeed mother fuckers, PARALLEL EVENT IS TOTALLY REAL, IT IS-REAL, and you can be Jewish or non-Jewish, but it IS-REAL, symbolism at its fucking best, and crashing loud cymbals as well at 18 bells of mother fucking ear destroying as well as head concussion causing SPL.
The proof of my hell is my major increase in curse words on my fucking ass blogs, as well as how many blogs per week are being posted when averaged out mathematically on a ten dollar Wal-Mart fart calculator, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Speaking of math, let me get back to the roulette system given me by MLC on the Astral Plane a few months ago somewhere, peeps. BRO, it is a mind bend. I did lose one unit four days ago, and one unit two days ago, and five and a half units about a week ago when in the very direct middle of this satanic Stan-mess of ten days now and fucking cunt counting BRO, ***BUT***, yesterday, I made eleven and a half units, and before I began this blog, made a quick back to back win, giving me another two units. Actually, over the past ten days, I have lost 22 units total, and won 28 and a half units total, with the house vig included, and I was creamed on the green numbers on three games in particular during this siege. I used to say a long time ago that during siege, I can just play the 0-00 split, and use a betting progression of about 60 bets, beginning at minimum bet in most tables in Atlantic city of five dollars outside play, and working up to bets of fifty dollars. Only two games in 20 years back in Jersey, ever lost the full bankroll of twelve thousand dollars, for a total loss of $240,000. The amount won during this period of 670 games that won out of the 690 games played, was over 400,000 dollars, a nice hefty 160 grand profit over a five or so year playing period, on paper of course. Siege does kill personal magnetics or what other folks might call or think of as “LUCK”, as it does most certainly interchange as absolute doppelgangers.
Now before I close out this blog today, BRAHHH, let me say this with reservation and trepidation, as I'm not fully enthusiastic and happy playing with powerful cosmic forces that make hydrogen bombs and plutonium extractions all look like kids playing with nickel and dime fire crackers in comparison, but the problem folks is that my WOMO enemy mother fucking bastards, are simply leaving me without any fucking ass choice, YO. In late 1983, I made a trip down here to Florida, first to Orlando, not as far as where I have lived now for more than two years, and then down further, to my uncle and aunt and first cousin's home in Fort Lauderdale. I had with me, a machine that was co-owned by two of the most mysterious mother fuckers on this planet, and you can include any real life or movie, YO. Because this machine was used in ways it was not intended to be used, entire effects from the sixth dimension of MIND ITSELF, a realm of no time or space or interaction at all, just pure signal energy dots of pure mind. It resembled a laptop computer, only is also resembled a small carry-on suit case, and was about 35 inches long and 20 inches wide, and a foot thick. It ran on a strange power source that I cannot ever talk about for fear of life and limb, and even had the ability to connect up to a system of satellites that have not been built, not even here in 2012. It is why those two agents in early 1983 were doing that strange thing with my telephone line that the Copyright Office would have a copy of to this day unless it has been made to vanish by the BFA systems, a highly probable reality of course that I totally fucking accept. This machine is why I ended up speaking to a strange transdimensional laboratory technician before I even made the trip down there , and also, hopefully the great Library of Congress, has this as well, but I doubt it, right my old and dear friend, Mister Thomas Glenn, wow they sure have us coexisting together on that one page I accessed through the non-sanitized occasional Google world. I did not realize that some things that were said about poison CHEMTRAILS, were on this conversation, that I admit, I taped illegally over the telephone, but this is not like murder, and since a lot of years have passed, my confession to this illegal activity cannot get me fucking prosecuted. I was smart enough to dub in the legal beeps with Mister Metz, huh © Examiners, back i9n the summer time of 1980, YO. Still, the true inventor of digital audio, is the also the true inventor of distance delay lunar satellites that first are placed into orbit in about forty years. After this time, a field radiates between these and our own satellites, where a bounced signal can be sent back and forth trillions and quadrillions of times, to open up a delay time channel, that is more significant than the mere three and a half second lunar round trip time delay if sent only one time. Anyone after approximately the year of 2067, and especially after it is all tied into dozens of band-internet types of networking systems, folks from the future can access back into earlier periods in the history of our present time one internet channel, and click right into websites. What most peeps cannot comprehend, is that this space-time is a natural effect in cosmos, and the future is not able to leave comments or tell us anything now, they can only hear us, they cannot talk, or SEND, time delay works in one direction. If they sent something through from 2070 back to 2006 to say my foundation that is now defunct, www.morianity-foundation.com/ and the site existed for hunbdreds of years hypothetically, what they send would bwe received in the year of 2134, and so forth, so a great conversation might be accomplished in this way through a generation of families for example, if one site ever existed long enough, but this is not a two way worm hole, it only works because you are using the distance to delay the trime, it only works one way, that is until early in the twenty-two-hundreds, when they are able to use a field where the distance is placed in an atomic negative space, where the signals cross into an antimatter channel of a sort, extremely complex, and 200 years or more ahead of present science and its ability and technology. Still, this is what my book was referring to indeed, “The Permission Barrier”, in an attempt in 1994 to explain my horrendous fucked up life in the only way that possibly could do it, other than with yesterday's idea of a pitched fork Satan with horns, and hellfire, and all the religious fucking nonsense, true, and yet shit all the same, as it is all a matter of viewpoints and interpretations of equal fucking truths and realities, YO. This machine actually caused a RPE or a Recognized Protection Event, in this case, a tone being placed over a conversation between myself and this lab technician, and it was done before I even was on the Amtrak Train, so it somehow gained access to advanced lunar fields of antimatter negative space. I thought no more about the train trip or the lost five minutes on the tape, but the story behind it is major. Some of you might just start to really put 2 and 2 together after I post up my song called, “CHEMTRAILS” very shortly, less than a fucking ass week from now. This is not hocus pocus, and UI cannot worry about who gets fucking mad at me. This is beyond total war now, I am fighting for my life, before I am forced to become a pre-teen all over again, and go through another fucking gods awful cycle of this monster ass hell. This is why the mighty nightmare changed in 1974, making me finally think I had awakened and turned on that dam light, Hellywierd. So make fun if me 17 more times, awake or asleep you cock sucking feeling-less prick bitches. CHEMTRAILS, CHEMTRAILS, CHEMTRAILS, HOW ABOUT DECISIONS-DECISIONS-DECISIONS, Selena DADA-NU???????????????? Ten years from this time, Miss Shoe, all hell will break loose with the first secret McGuire Wormhole, and it will all begin on a fucking ass Amtrak Train ride to Orlando, Florida from 30th Street in fucking Philadelphia, PAUSEASMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P, you do not know one one millionth of my nightmare, but you do know that you are my only ticket out of total hell, because once the light goes on for real, I am a boy again, trying to fucking convince the adult fucking world that I lived as an adult up here, and they NEVER EVER NEVER EVER BELIEVE ME, AND THEY NEBVER EVER NEVER EVER FUCKING WILL, MY FRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please do me one huge favor. Don't ever let me run into David May, because I will rip his asshole apart and shove it literally through his dam nostrils, as he was my ticket to endless hell, unless... As for what I believe in my super agitated and depressed state right now, you would not even want to know. Paula King's hypnosis of me is the only reason Wall Street has not crashed, because if I could take advantage of this MONSTWER ASS PUSSY COMMAND, my WOMO evil empire enemies would all be totally obliterated, wiped out, annihilated, and destroyed forever, without mercy, in a brilliant fucking flash of my laughter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank Paula King, you dirt bags, over or under her radar systems.
When I was over at Ziggy Taxman's place, a low loud aircraft, small and noisy, zenithed right over the condo pool. Until MAGNESONIC stops mother fucking wimping out and causes California to sink under the Pacific fucking Ocean and a lot more, this will not stop for poor fucked up me, P!!!
ENDLESS HELL IS NO ILLUSION, ONLY STM IS:
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