PLEASE
DO NOT BLAME ME, WHEN THIS ENTIRE PLANET BEGINS
FOR
THE RECORD, MY NAME IS MOUNTAINPEN, NOT JESUS
CHEEKTURNER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MORIANITY-2
JWC2-DAY-00012-BLOG-C
8:37
PM-EST
IN
HORRENDOUS WICKED FORT PIERCED, FLORIDA, AKA
BOTBARIDA,
TO QUOTE THE GREAT D.C. ROTH, YO
FOLKS,
I TOLD FUCKING YOU, THE DOW JONES WAS
GOING TO FLY, AND IT WAS UP A
THIRD OF A THOUSAND FUCKING POINTS TODAY; THE BEST DAY, OR
ONE OF THEIR TOP TEN IN THIS CENTURY, AND MILLENNIUM, YO YO YO YO! I
TOLD FUCKING YOU, GIANT LOVELY GINA, SO WAS I RIGHT?
I
ASKED MY GAGA CAT WHY THIS
DAY HAPPENED, THE WORST DAY IN DECADES, AND THE DOW FLEW, AND GOT A
WILD ANSWER, WELL, TRULY A DUH ANSWER, PCN-165,
as if anyone has to tell me any of this, Mister Doctor James
Garrigan, of Haddonfield of 1970,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555555555555
So
where is Mister A, Mister B, Mister D, Mister E, Mister F, and Mister
G, hiding, here on this blog, on DAY-12, Section-C I am left to
ponder, presume, and query my tiny little fucking ass mind peeps, oh
that's right, over in the Library of the Congress, with “THE
PERMISSION BARRIER”
book, back on Halloween fucking cunt day, in 1994, AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
right Mister Michael Mc Freaking Nulty?????????????????
W----O----W,
I must be on my way to MACY'S, YO!!!!!!
Or
could it be to my great TD Bank? Folks, I really do miss your
wonderful truck outside in the lot, over on Route One. I have
blocked my memories somehow on how this all got started
with ''STACEY MACY WOW'', and the great 'TD BANK', but it did; right
around the friggin' turn of the dam century, some how or some where;
or maybe even some who, ha-ha-ha there, other blocked and mind hacked
1981 laughing guy YO! I mean really, © Office, speaking of a happy,
jolly, and merry Halloween, and all. It is like Moe Howard; if he
were just here to pop me in the back of my head, and I know then it
would come out of near limbo. It is right there, but they've mind
hacked the shit out of so many of my memories, these lovely rotten
Rockefeller/Kennedy conspirators, and the joke is on them; as they
only think they connect up into shit that is important, and they have
nothing to do with the real foundations of this world, to quote the
mother fucking bible. Thank you Moe Howard, he just hit me now, I
speak of SIR Icabod Crane, now how does one keep forgetting this
FUCKING MIND-HACKED NAME, MISTER FUCKING IRISH BULLEY ASSHOLE MCGUIRE
OF 10-SC AVENUE, YO YO YO? You and your dirt ball pal Donald Thump,
from PHASE-4. You dudes impress me like the CALLIO branch of this
clan of super fucking dogshit. I hate them all, and most of all, I
DESPISE THAT FUCKING SONG FROM 1983, IT WAS ALL USED IN A TIME TRAVEL
PARLOR TRICK BY THESE ROTTEN DIRT BAGS, ALL FUCKING ASS ALONG,
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH
SHIT,
let me tell you something gargantuan, after what these fucking
twisted ass diseased cock suckers did to me today, and after ruining
my entire life for close to 581 deciannums now, YO. First, yes,
PCN-165,
as many know, tells it all, and is the number GAGA gave me when I
asked why this day had to be my fucking cunt cross to bear or just go
over, either way, Doctor, you know what my problem is, and has been;
you sure should, you've caused it a trillion fucking years ago,
lovely SSJKK, and now you enjoy this wonderful game. Saw you the
other day on the SYFY Channel, a New Year's Day Marathon of the old
TWILIGHT ZONE television show, the episode where the couple had a bit
too much to Dawn-Marie King, or drink, same thing really, and found
themselves with their Q-GIRL version of the GREAT-I-AM, SCYLLA.
Again, it must be done, it fits too well not to do it, WOW.
Yes, many things were GAWNUM QUERRIED today, during this unspeakably
vicious fucking despicable monstrous evil ass day, and I learned that
indeed, my blogging has caused all of this, and shit was totally
fucking bad enough before Chris asshole Bennett and Eddie Lynch dick
eating Himacane, put me onto doing blogs and websites. Oh well, glad
some of you enjoyed some of this, while I went through Sumo Wrestling
HELL, CUBED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where are you when I
need you, 4 pack bottle water carrier Jen; when I could really use
you around, now, and there at that fucking evil library by that dirt
bag asshole high school of geeks and nerds and tough guys? Nice to
know you can deck anybody, huh big Jen, here we go again, sorry, but
it does really fit in here good folks, W-------O-------W!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!
MY
BLOGS HAVE TOLD YOU FOR 7 MOTHER FUCKING YEARS NOW FOLKS, THAT I AM
PICKED ON AND PUMMELED AND PERSECUTED ON HOLIDAYS, AND ESPECIALLY ON
MY BIRTHDAY, BY MY DIRT BAG ENEMY, THE
WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE. But
why do you suppose this is part of the shituation and cross I bear,
and not go over, lovely Jennifer Hewitt, and sorry they canceled your
show, as it seems this entire past year was some kind of planetary
parlor trick involving that fucked up stupid song, most recently
posted on the YOUTUBE
by the great goddess PAULAKING2011.
Yes, WHY, YYY JIMMY, did you tell me these fucked up things in 1974,
so I could sing that fucked up song ten years later in the autumn of
1984 from HIGHLAND AVENUE, in Cinnaminson, New Jersey,
USA-ES-MWG??????????? Well, ask yourself YYYYYYYYY the lady, in June,
or around there somewhere back in 2008; nearly got a heart attack at
the United States Copyright Office, over that one silly little piece
of yellow paper. Y did Goddess create the heaven and the Earth, you
could also ponder, even though I all ready know the answer to that.
SHE is a teenager and she loves to play games, and attend her
sweet-16 birthday party, so there is your
BIRTHDAY connection, and all other
things fit into this via one thing, and only one thing, good peeps
out here; good old mother fucking TIME
TRAVEL or STM manipulation. ''I AM''
now going to tell you all a huge ass fucking secret that of course, I
also know all ready, will simply just fall on deaf and worthless
fucking ass ears, YO!!
We
all live on a world where we are conscious to about one seventh of
our second as we call these small sixtieth periods of our minutes,
which is one four-teen-hundred-fortieth of our rotation, and we call
this a day, or period of one night and one day, gee whiz, a Genesis
Lesson from Mountainpen, go figure? This perfectly matches up with
the speed of light, as well as the diametric size of this world,
roughly eight thousand miles. This means that light will travel
roughly seven times around this world of ours each and every second,
and light is the reflection of time. If we evolved on a smaller or
larger world, we would be conscious to slower or quicker fractions of
seconds, and even though all the formulas in science tell us that if
we traveled at near the speed of light for a few weeks or so, and
came back to the Earth, about 100 years would have whizzed by, and
this is true, but only because of a ratio between awareness to time
fractions, you on the fast moving ship, and the others on the slower
moving Earth. Time traveling always changes the BRAIN, whether moving
out of a so-called normal time flow, and going faster, slower, or
even in reverse, it is the brain that is changing, and recreating the
new time and 5th
dimensional hyperspace reality around you, just as right now, it's
your fucking stupid ass brain, that is creating the space-time, and
all of the shit that this contains. This is why there are folks who
can trance out and move through time and hyperspace, as you are only
doing what a time machine would do, and yes, I know that there are
indeed, TIME BOXES, rectangular boxes just a tad bit larger than shoe
boxes, I HAVE WITNESSED THEM, and yet I remain totally fucking
unimpressed, Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason, and your CIA Operative pal,
the great 1967 Iranian Shah. All the people that really know the
great SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, know other names that SHE uses
quite often, when she plays her many games, in so many unlimited
dimensions of reality. The 'Hello-Ziggy' 1969 anti-pollution
commercial, is all a secret part of this, as well as a coded message,
left for those who can possibly understand how to decode it. Hello
Ziggy, I AM here, Ziggy, Ziggy, HELLO. Whoever taped this, made sure
certain parts of the words came out stronger and weaker at powerfully
coded areas of the structure of the entire shouted sentence. Still,
done by sleep walkers, done by space aliens, it is all the same to me
and always will be, and again, it leaves me completely unimpressed,
folks. Why I did not say “CURLY” instead of “MY”, is anyone's
guess, Copyright Examiner of 1986, but I said MY, just as I said
Ziggy, LOW I AM, and the SHAH knows the full secret, and how the
other major name for the All Mighty Scylla all got started, about a
dozen millennia ago. I speak of Elohim, or hello I am, without the
here. Since those who have sang the song and know the song from the
turn of the millennium have met HER and know they want to see HER, oh
yes, Karen Simons, we're not imagining any of this, are we; but this
is how the part that sounds more masculine got removed in secret,
thousands of years ago; and this is not in any history book, or
secret religion; as none of this secret powerful fucking information,
was able to survive enough necessary time, Julia Hoffman. This is why
the real name for the All Mighty is indeed known by those who took
down the great towers that I named a long time ago, huh Donna Angela
Mills????????????????? So my only query now is this, sweetie, where
are all your friends from the fifth dimension, or is all that's left,
the coded secret Marilyn McCoo??????????????????? Well, in any event,
“I'll a wrap” this powerful truth up now, but you know who you
are, and what you are, SCYLLA. You don't need Mark Wayne Mohr, or his
blogs, or his old now defunct website to un-hack your great memories,
oh GREAT GODDESS!!!!!!! This is why I posted up that song from the
early nineteen-eighties, Scylla, to draw you out, and in a way, I
did, but not quite the way I had hoped for, Brown Eyed Girl. I sure
hope you don't kick the crap out of me tonight, when I lose my waking
world awareness, and enter your Mighty Queendom of so many colored
lights, with or without any trees, or Jason Forrest's.
“YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER”, 1983-2012
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
I
told you, RIH Casino, you'd be surprised about computers.
MORIANITY-2
JEWELLY
WHITE'S CALENDAR 2, DAY 12, BLOG-B
5:29
PM-EST, AT FORT HELL PIERCED, BOTBARIDA, FL
WORST
SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR OF 2013, AND NOW HOLDING AT 50% MPB FOR TWENTY
FUCKING CUNT THIRTEEN, TWO THOUSAND THIRTEEN, OR HOWEVER THE NEW WAY
FOR PRONOUNCING YEARS NOW IS FASHIONABLE, AS IT SEEMS TO HAVE ALTERED
AGAIN, HUH, MY WONDERFUL 1969 TIME TRAVELING EDUCATOR, MISSES
MAROLLA???????????????????????????????
ALL
DAY TODAY, IS SUPER MOTHER FUCKING CUNT LAPPING TOTAL HELL CUBED.
FIRE ALARMS IN THE MORNING, CONTINUOUS DOOR SLAMMING AND SHOUTING IN
THE HALLWAY, FROM THESE EVIL SATANIC SCUM BAG FILTH CHEWING UNCOUTH
DIRT BAG NABES OF MINE, A MASSACRE IN MY SYSTEMS ROULETTE THIS
AFTERNOON, CAUSED BY CONTINUOUS NOISE FROM THESE SHIT ASS NABES, AND
AN OBVIOUSLY FLYING CUNT LAPPING DOW JONES AVGERAGES STOCK MARKET,
AND MY NEGATIVE PARALLEL-EVENT TO THIS SITUATION, THAT'S BEEN
FOLLOWING, STALKING, AND HAUNTING ME; LIKE A TRILLION COCK SUCKING
WICKED GHOSTS; EVER SINCE THE MIDDLE FUCKING ASS NINETEEN EIGHTIES.
I
NO LONGER BELIEVE IN ANYONE, AND THEREBY, NO ONE HAS ONE TINY BIT OF
CREDIBILITY WITH ME; NO ONE ANYWHERE ON THIS DISEASED PUKE HURLING
PUNY MINDED PLANET. BUT STILL, ACCORDING TO AN E-MAIL FROM DEBBIE,
BACK BEFORE NEW YEARS HOLIDAY; THE SUBWOOFER SYSTEM HAS BEEN
OUTLAWED, AND THEY WERE TOLD TO REMOVE IT, SO IF IT COMES BACK, 'THEY
SAY' A 30-DAY EVICTION WILL BE AUTOMATIC. STILL, AS YOU KNOW FROM
READING THIS SHIT BEFORE THE MUSIC BECAME A MOTHER FUCKING ISSUE,
THEY ARE ALL BAD ENOUGH OVER THERE, WITHOUT ANY OF THE
THUMP-NOISE-ATTACK PERSECUTION; AND HAVE RECENTLY LET ME REDISCOVER
THAT FACT FOR MYSELF, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
after the stock market closed, and after a short half hour back off
from these fucking wicked demonic neighbors from hell, across the
mother fucking hallway just beyond my tiny little fucking ass onion
thin door that a small child could punch in, should they so choose to
ever do; I played the system-roulette again, with far different
results, and if I may shift my gears here Michelle and peeps, 'SLAM,
BANG, WHAM, POW', it just never stops, it's worse than it has ever
fucking cunt lapping been since these diseased twat holes came to
fucking ass live here. If I do not escape this, I'll be stark raving
fucking crazy, and I will have my SSD in the bank tomorrow, and I
then will be able to purchase some food and gasoline, and then also,
I plan to drive to the police station, and press charges against this
PH Building, as well as harassment and
criminal charges, against these fucking dirt bag scum ball
fucking cock sucking nabes over there, or should I fucking say what
they truly are?, total fucking wild animals!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A
child can, and does, see what is really happening. It takes no big
brain, and Scylla has a huge brain, filled with all kinds of warped
and wild ugly things, I'm quite sure. We go back a lot longer than
the days that my readers, even you mostly NSA readers; could ever
have a real honest clue about; as your bosses are keeping secrets
even from you, as you all operate on a military system called, NTK,
(Need To Know). I know this, as my father was a US Naval Officer, and
did a bit of talking in his sleep over a week visit, back in early
1974, right around this very time as a fucking cunt matter of fact,
39 years ago to the week, the first week in cunt lapping Seasons in
the Sun January, huh Mister Terry Jackson, only there is no joy in
Mudville, not with Casey, or me, only with me; it is Stacey who is
making my entire life a living fucking hell, and the great 'phone
company' is sworn to eternal secrecy.
I
have counted 30 slams and 22 tolerable slams so far today and since
the past Sunday when this fucking shit began, a grand total of 194
loud slams that eventually will break your doors, PUBLIC
HOUSING BUILDING, and don't ever fucking cunt tell me that you
have not been told or warned, as I've been shouting out to you for
six mother fucking cock licking months now, and you do not give a
shit and a half, so it is all on you when your property is all
wrecked, but don't raise my mother fucking rent, or we'll have a real
fucking problem, other than for the few dollars of your take as the
30% cut you will be getting soon, if I am dumb enough to remain in
this apartment for a third years lease, with these total fucking ass
animals; off of a meager 1.7% SS, so-called laughable cost of living
raise adjustment, as real COL is about 300% of that fucking amount,
YO!!!!!!!! It is a total insult, like SS funeral benefits, that have
been the same amount of benefit, for about a half century now, if I
am anywhere near accurate. You'd save money by admitting you have no
funeral benefit, cut it completely, and put the lousy $255.00 in the
mother fucking ass treasury, YO, as it is an insult to any
beneficiary's intelligence, as was that 1.7 fucking percentage COL
increase. You may as well just keep it, and throw it at your secret
UFO projects, or whatever the fuck you guys in Washington are
spending it on. You're all a bunch of fucking crooks, as I'd be in
jail for nine lifetimes if I did one ninth of what you all do every
dam day, and this is why the legal age of sexual consent in
Washington, is the best kept secret that is a real real real taboo
subject, publicly, but true nonetheless, AGE-13.
The true and real reason that I do not run off, is that I am on
disability, and I need what pittance you do allow me. As soon as I
turn the age where my disability becomes my Social Security in 7
years give or take, I will be far away where none of you can fucking
get at me, or if you do, I'll make it so fucking difficult and
expensive for you to do it, that you will fucking ass shit your
fucking selves, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tell that to the
FBI and the Back Burners of America, Mister Hose-Paul Lenny McKinnon,
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You own me, yeah right,
well, maybe you do, as ever since we met, your Rastafarian
Illuminati, or whatever; has been shadowing me, and fucking with me
continually, just exactly as you threatened me would be the cunt
eating case; on many of our telephone conversations, that you
illegally tape recorded, and I know you did; or else you have the
most precise and dependable bladder in the history of anatomical
fucking medical records, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
had a real honest motive and purpose for what I did this year on the
YOUTUBE, but was
of course, totally stopped as always, or SANCTIONED
as many of our national enemies would call it,
and TOTALLY RELATE TO THIS. I needed to prove that this all was real,
that my memories were blocked and messed with by this alien clan that
goes back to the stars themselves. There is no fighting the ALL
MIGHTY GODDESS
SCYLLA, and now I know it.
Perhaps I knew it all along, and only the mother fucking Copyright
Office, and the 1983 examiners, know what's getting said here;
Prosecutor ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, of Camden County, New Jersey,
USAESMWG. I know there is such a thing as authentication, but with
all of it a million times over, I would still fall under the NSA
SANCTIONS, and they have me on a million enemy lists, I'm sure, and
by the way, here's something for the L&O-SVU team to MUNCH on. I
get all your little messages, just like you get all of mine, YO
DOGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! When I tried to make the phone calls
stop back in 1983, I was not fighting just some large and important
people; and the POPE and the entire frikkin Vatican, all know that,
as does, IBM, AT&T, and all of the dam top movers and shakers on
mother fucking diseased ass WALL STREET,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If any real honest peeps were ever
reading my blogs, and of course they are not, it is all government
agents, or else they would be nice, and listen to my music, as if I
were reading someone's blog and asked as a viewer to do this, I would
not hesitate, so it tells me 100% of what I am dealing with, and
without asking any fucking ass magical black kitty cats such as
fucking Gawky Gaukauk, or GAGA for short. As I said, a child knows,
and in fact knew, all along, and as I said to myself, and the entire
© Office has the frikkin 1988 tape, yes, “that is LIGHTNING”,
well at age two. I recognized the voice in my suppressed
VENKA-STRONG-GIRL-MEMORY-SYSTEM, from 1972, as I seemed to do quite
often, huh Russ Thaxton, and Venka, YO???????????? Huh, David Leigh
Smith, from 1970 Haddonfield, NJUSAESMWG? Huh, Sarah J. Cobson? Huh,
Wolf and Trump, you arrogant ass holes that think you know so much?
Well, Trump does know, as he is a PHASE-4-entity,
who used me to bring his personality to life, all 7'7” of the
bastard, at least if he had had his way on that, huh Jason fucking
Forrest from the trees??????????? Oh yes, “I KNOW” you know that
I'll always love you, SSJKK, you wild and crazy endless freaking
teenager. I never forget.
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT,
YO. CG-18, AND, S—T--O--P.
MORIANITY-2
Jewelly
White Calendar 2, Day 00012, Blog-A
11:29
AM-EST here at rotten Fort Pierce, Florida
My
scum bag evil fucking neighbors have been hell now SUNDAY, MONDAY,
TUESDAY, AND NOW ON WEDNESDAY. This is why their fixed evil DOW JONES
STOCK MARKET IS FLYING UP TO NEW RECORD HIGH TERRITORY, just as I
told you all, and you too Gina, THAT IT WOULD DO, because as long as
this EVIL FUCKING EMPIRE has me to harass, the wealthy bastards
behind my fucking cunt demise, prosper big hyper ass time, and always
fucking cunt will do so, as this is not new. It has been going on
since 1986.
These
evil sick deranged cock suckers slammed and hollered all day long
from Sunday through right now today, waking me up at 2:00 AM, Public
Housing DIRECTOR of Fort Pierce, Florida, and my letter will be off
to you in the mail tomorrow, when I pay my monthly bills after
getting my SSD deposit into my account. There is no escape from these
two scum bag across the hall units. They are not ever leaving, and I
cannot afford to leave either; so they have me right by the mother
fucking balls; and this is why the DOW
JONES MARKETS will
keep fucking endlessly flying UP AND UP AND UP AND UP AND UP. So
watch and see, and I'll prove myself totally mother fucking correct;
and to you too, my giant lovely Gina. “TOLD
YOU”, as you loved
to say to me back in the cock licking nineteen-nineties,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, MC, they will always be my NEIGHBORS, just not
my baby, but I'd still love to understand someday, how you and your
wonderful family, were able to pull off all of this wild, weird,
unfathomable, and unexplainable stuff; for so long now. It is as if
you knew all of this in vivid detail, all along. What cruel people
you all are, and using my 1983 song, fourteen years later, to mock me
with it.
Basically,
every cunt lapping fucking day is now SUPER BOTBAR, WITH
NO COCK SUCKING END, IN SIGHT. I always knew deep down
inside, that Christianity, and Jesus Christ, and 'God' and the bible;
was just a big ass fucking worthless rotten lie and hoax. My life
proves this to any and all fucking cunt lapping atheists, and should
forever, as long as these blogs stand and survive time, huh Julia
fucking Hoffman of late 1969???????????????????????? My roulette
however, the non-quantum-system that I have been using, holds up, no
matter what is being done to me; merely giving back little bits,
during periods where shit is so horrible, that it is literally
fucking life threatening for me.
I
said it before, and I'll say it again, the song of 2012 was
responsible for my all ready rotten sucky life going from the frying
pan, smack fucking dab straight into the bond fire. This is the same
song that anyone would know was used to tell me that I can not ever
run away from this, or this horrible family of washcloth dissections,
and other abduction encounters; King related or any others in the
'Bluebook'; and that song that was finally posted on December the
eighteenth of last year in 2012, is this one.
“YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER 1983, REWRITTEN 2012 ©
MARK
WAYNE MOHR, TECHNOPOP, ALL DONE BY MACHINE, EXCEPT FOR THE 3 SECOND
INTRODUCTION, THAT WAS USED FOR THE VOX SAMPLING HARMONY TRACK.
WELL,
MISTER FRIKKIN WARNER, THIS WILL BE ALL FOLKS, AT LEAST FOR THIS
EXACT POINT IN TIME, SENATOR WATERGATE, AND FORMER US PRESIDENT,
RICHARD MILHOUSE NIXON. WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU, SARAH JACOBSON
FROM BEYOND THE STARS?????
Burn
in fucking Hell, PLANET EARTH. YOU SUCK!!!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555555555555555
VIDEO
LINKS TO BLOG FROM YOUTUBE:
555555555555555555555555555555555555555
MORIANITY
2
JWC2,
DAY 00010, BLOG-B
2:24
PM-EST IN FORT PIERCE BOTBAR FLORIDA
MY
DIRT BAG NEIGHBORS ARE FEROCIOUS AND EVIL
At
about ten minutes past two, on this mother fucking afternoon, I was
awakened from a nap, by a tremendous horrific group of uncouth and
extremely loud sounds emanating from at least two or three of these
sicko trash two legged roaches over there, super loud hall shouting,
doors slamming, after a weekend of much quieter conditions. Now I
realize it is New Years Eve Day, but this is fucking cunt absurd
times twenty three thousand.
The
skies are quiet, all though yesterday over at Mike Patterson's
beach-house, a plane that was very loud and very low, was dogging me
while I was there, and we were working on our project. I am unable to
get more than two fucking days straight of NON-BOTBAR DAYS any more,
and this condition began in November sometime, making this a brand
new set of really super fucked up magnetics for me, that if does not
change, I will need to drive out of here, and straight out of this
evil empire, and straight into Mexico; and never mother fucking look
back. I cannot exist at my old age, living between 60-70 percent
mother fucking SUPER ass FUCKING BOTBAR, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It does appear, and no
one out here can mother fucking deny this, that every single cunt
eating time that I do a blog, late at night or after midnight
anytime, that the next day always follows with a fucking ass NEIGHBOR
ASSAULT. They are
either 'TOLD'
or else they are seemingly 'MIND-CONTROLLED',
influenced or paid off, but either way, by the MILI-2-FORCE,
TO DO THIS ATTACK ON ME, AND WRECK
MY DAY, every
single fucking ass time, YO!Also, when these bastards all come here
to that apartment, and according to Resident Manager, Debbie Marotto,
ILLEGALLY, it is a matter of a fairly short duration before loud
thumping noise-music begins, despite them being told, supposedly
anyway, that they cannot blare that powerful big subwoofer that they
all brought in here last September. So far however, so good, no noise
that shakes my walls and breaks my nerves; as it would any
non-lobotomized normal person, from my times and days. I am happy not
to be a part of this totally insane, and totally ill and twisted new
world, new society; and NEW WORLD
DISORDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Another
thing that has ruined my day besides these cock chewing nabes from
fucking hell, is a bill I got when I was out visiting Mikey
yesterday, and opened it after I was awake from this horrendous
attack of noise. It must be a mistake, but it is from my HMO, that
says I will need to pay $110.00 for my last office visit, and the
doctor is away until Wednesday, vacationing for the
helliday-holidays, so I must wait until then to find out what this
total bullshit is all about. I was promised that this HMO covers shit
fully with him, and have no plans whatsoever to pay it, and my credit
is all ready totally fucking shot, thanks to THAT FAMILY of abducted
nightmare washcloth lungs from 1970, and who knows; maybe ten other
rotten things will all happen today, but in any event; here we go
again, with another mother fucking major ass BOTBAR X ONE, and the
calendar of DECEMER of 2012, is so filled up with 'B' letters circled
twice, that it looks more like my daughter's Honey Bee Club, than a
page on a frikkin calendar. Slam, Slam, Boom; it is now 2:55, and it
is still ongoing, but without the loud sub-woofers, so
far!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I get
my disability money on the third, and sit here without an extra drop
of gasoline until Thursday, which is January the third of
twenty-thirteen. Hence, I can go nowhere, and who would walk around a
hood like this place, and tan-less, not me, and they tell me that
saying this makes me a racist. No, I say it is just honesty, Mister
Wolf. Let's see you and Trump, and all of your trashy, and high
filooting friends; go out around here, and walk around alone. I
triple fagot dog dare any of you. I might ever come over and visit
you, at the local Lawnwood Regional Hospital, if for no other reason,
other than to fucking just gloat, YO
DOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me play some
roulette, and I'll come back and give you the results, YO DOGS, WOLF
WOLF WOLF WOLF WOLF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
it's fucking time to talk about the United States of America, and its
federal government's very favorite subject; YO; STATISTICS,
JUST GOING BACK TO AFTER THE END OF LAST JULY, to keep shit short,
sweet, and simple, BRO!
You
have heard me discuss the statistical technology of using what is not
new or made up by me, in its raw concept, parallel event, merely this
exact name given is mine ®, and I do officially claim it. The Star
Trek-TNG peeps, used the term, correlation of event, or some other
similar term, and there are tens if not over one hundred others, I'm
quite sure, but PE, and applying it with a purpose, goal, and motive;
that is 'APE' or Applied Parallel Event,
and THAT, is my own registered words, as is also, from a very similar
type of statistical technology, the combination words of MAGNETIC
PERCENTAGE, OR MP for short, APE, and MP are my own exact titles, and
they take some things that all ready always existed in life and its
interactive surroundings, only it also seems to have incorporated,
some almost esoteric additional feature, into the otherwise already
existing, basic type of statistical reality, and even technology.
Before we get into this, I was cremated with the HOUSE-VIG or the
green numbers of zero-double zero, and still quit ahead of the game,
took my paper win, and left the paper casino, despite a despicable
attack, AGAIN, by the wonderful and so blessed,
''WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE'',
OR IN GOOD OLD CHEMTRAIL
LINGO, PERHAPS PRONOUNCED AS THE ALL LOUSY MIGHTY,
''KILL-A-BLUE-SOURCE'', AFTER-ALL, IT RHYMES, AND IT MAKES PERFECT
FUCKING SENSE, and I need not get my daughter's all mighty
permission, to blog it, not that that will guarantee another shot
back to me about my fibbing lyrics, only they tell the truth, and she
knows it; so let her be the sixteen year old that she always will
be, and see if I could care in the least. Now before we get into the
statistical stuff, yes, I lost four units on the green house vig, but
made seven units, and did not lose any units back to the regular
system; so 7 units won, minus the vig of 4 units lost, and I decided
to get out of the situation three units up and ahead of the dam ass
game, YO, and on a very bad and BOTBAR day, of pummeling and assault,
by my WOMO-M2F enemies. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, and HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!
But I also did one other thing besides play a SYSTEMS-ROULETTE game,
oh yes sir/mahm; I asked my kitty cat, GAGA, just exactly WHY I fell
under this HORRENDOUS and MONSTROUS, EVIL FUCKING ATTACK; FROM THESE
NABE FILTH BAG SCUM SNAKES, AT ABOUT TEN MINUTES PAST TWO OF THE
CLOCK, ON THIS DISAFTER-NOON; AND WAS GIVEN THE PCN OF '725'. Now
PCN-725
has some real interesting words and combinations of phrases and word
groupings, that really make me sit up and take notice, not that all
of my answers do not totally make sense to me, and the query that I
asked of the GAWNUM; but this one really ices up the cake real thick
and 'yummy', so I'm saving a nice big slice for lovely Ashley
Tinsdale, and her musical friends from high school, and war coward
ambulance drivers!!!!!!!!!! Yes friends and fiends, here is my
MATCH-BOOK ITEM LIST, for PCN-725, in its frikkin entirety,
slam-boom, bang, holler:
VERSION----SAHASRA
DAL KANWAL----THE VOID----TWO THOUSAND EIGHT----KRASSLE
SANG----FLORIDA----CURLY CAREY EINSTEIN
MESSAGE-------------------------------------------------------
It
really jumps out at you like fifteen sore teeth all throbbing in
excruciating indescribable agony times ten to the power of eighteen.
I mean it all does, if you were me, and understood as I do, my life
in its entirety, or as best as can be expected for a flesh and blood
human aniwho; but that one thing at the end, I mean come on, just
look at it now, and then take Einstein's initials out of the last
name, and without any old songs, thrown shoes, treadmills, talking
dogs, or anything else; we can hear the song clear as day from 1986,
called, “Real Good Girl”. Still, all her teenaged pretty curls
notwithstanding here, now go to the first of the two words, 'curly'.
To change this nickname when I did not use the other one, “MY”,
just simply take the letters where Einstein's initials would be,
CURLY,
and what does this name change into, and does that little message to
me in 2008 with that cool music project that she did about his world
famous relativity formula, not spring into mind real quickly? Simply
take the RED LETTERS, and transpose them to Einstein's initials, and
as she told me, I got her message, but I got it, to quote her on her
2008 website, “TOO
LATE”.
Things
like this are simple for the All Mighty Scylla to figure out and
engineer, and I've learned that there's nothing that she cannot do,
other than without the initials in there at all, maybe get real sad,
which is the last thing that I ever want for my wonderful kid. Now we
can get down to cases with the statistics, with the subject of my
BOTBAR DAYS, beginning just as far back as August, when an all ready
wicked demonic year, was turning even deadlier, and as the Youtube
society may put it, the hellishness around me began going fucking
viral!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! First,
with no mathematics performed yet, here is the total monthly count of
my BOTBARS, from months August through December; as this day is the
end of December, and is all ready BOTBAR, and done and over, and
closed out until New Years Day in the starting of the seven
'teen-years' of the twenty-first century, BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
AUGUST---TOTAL
OF BOTBAR DAYS--------------10
SEPTEMBER---TOTAL
OF BOTBAR DAYS--------07
OCTOBER---TOTAL
OF BOTBAR DAYS------------13
NOVEMBER---TOTAL
OF BOTBAR DAYS---------10
DECEMBER---TOTAL
OF BOTBAR DAYS----------19
Now
first of all, a moron child with a fucking shoe sized intelligence
quotient times five, tops; can see perfectly well, that things were
bad a while, and yet this last 2012 month, they skyrocketed from bad
to beyond fucking hellishness cubed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For a
quick example, the actual 12/2012 Botbar MP (Magnetic Percentage) or
19 times 100 divided by day total of 31, is close to double, the
average of the preceding mother fucking four months of
08/2012-11/2012. Let me frikkin do the frikkin ass math for you, YO!
These
are the similar ways in which our great federal government keeps
track of their eleven main national leading indexes and indicators,
of the American economical situation and conditions. Perhaps they use
some varying methodologies; but it all leads to the very similar
analytical results, that can go on to be graphed, charted, and
carefully examined and scrutinized, by real data experts.
OK,
so let us begin to play, shall we good peeps, YO? The Magnetic
Percentage for BOTBAR from August through November, rounded off to
nearest decimals, is August-32%, September-23%, October-42%,
November-33%. Adding these four numbers, and then dividing this total
by four; gives us the average; as we all learned, or should have,
back around third or fourth frikkin grade somewhere,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This comes to a rounded off 32.5% for the
months of August through November 'MPB' or (Magnetic Percentage for
Botbar)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now we take the MPB for
the month of DECEMBER, TWENTY-TWELVE, and WOW, WOW, and Mister
Trump-Macy, Crissake All Mighty and YO; it is a whopping Presidential
WHOPPER number, of nightmare and personal catastrophic proportions.
It is 61%-MPB. Yes, shifting those old RPL-Doctor gears here for a
quick second folks, holler, holler, slam, bang, boom; you uncouth
pricks from across the fucking hallway, here at my Public Housing
Building at 601 Avenue B, here in Fort frikkin Pierce, Florida, YO,
YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now for those
interested in the procedure used, for getting MPB numbers; it is not
rocket science. It is the total amount of BOTBAR DAYS in the month,
times 100, and then divided by the days of that month; then rounded
off to the nearest decimal for a magnetic percentage number. Still, I
then took the average of these four previous to 12-2012 months, of
August through November; which came to a rounded off 32.5%, and went
to compare this four month moving average, to the current month of
12-2012; and that is 61 minus 32.5,
or an absurd and totally Kateydeeeeeequlous non mini-Viqueen amount,
of difference worse, of 28.5%.
This tells me that December of 2012, was almost thirty cunt lapping
percent worse, than the four month sliding or moving-average, of this
personal mathematical scale, used here; or said real parochially,
things suddenly, as bad as shit was, since the middle-late summer
time; have 'WALMART SUDDENLY' become far far dangerously
fucking WORSE FOR ME; and the math numbers do not know how
to fucking tell lies. It is right there in black and white, on paper,
on Einstein's non crying chalk boards; or anywhere else that you may
wish to do, and write these calculations down; and later, as I once
did many years back in frikkin time; even go as far as to carefully
graph and chart them, on both line and bar charts. I never needed the
pie type, as rarely was I doing comparative sectional graphics, where
they are more prevalently frikkin used. So hello to you too out
there, NSA, FBI, CIA, and all my agent pals, as you can see that the
great MILITUFORCE, who you guys and gals all fear as well and know we
all must just shut up about it for fear of the JOE
PAGET SYNDROME, or War of the Worlds Syndrome, whatever,
we all know that normal folks just could never handle any of these
truths; and hence, they absolutely 'MUST' see these blogs as
laughable, and written by a crazy man. Only you peeps out there, YOU
KNOW FRIKKIN BETTER, DUDES AND DUDDESSES, YO!!! WHAAAA!!
I
am going to end this, and hang up now, on Sarah Krassle's magical
yellow telephone, and make my payment to the bridge
troll, and wave to the magic peeps in the wild train that rides over
the great river. Talk about the expansion of sensory feeling,
SHEEEEEEEEEIT. Pretend this is the twelfth day of July, of 2003; and
just don't get me going here, Mizz Eckert Pharmaceutical employee,
with the non Lee teenaged fake nail makeup. Oh well, the entire song,
'YBCO' is fake techno-pop, except for the intro part, which is where
the vocals were computer sampled from, and this was just a quick
cheap scratch copy, YO. So let me sign off and post up, for now, this
day, this month, this year, this century, this millennium, this
lifetime, as this fucking entire eternity, is totally SHOT, as far as
I am concerned, BRAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
ENDING
FOR RIGHT NOW, but Arnie muscles, look for a lot more, as
you of all folks know, that “I'LL BE BAAHK”!!!!!!!!!!
555555555555555555555555555555555
MORIANITY-2
(MASTER COPY FOR CAPPING)
TWO
YOUTUBE LINKS OF DECEMBER TWENTY TWELVE
Governor
Jesse Ventura talks about time travel, in ways that totally connect
up with stuff from my own personal life; including the chance that
his own distant relative, Salvador, was sent to me in 1965, to show
me, and not Miss Wescott; how to tap my fingers in really cool ways,
so that 'lightning' will respond to this, up in 1983; on a telephone
receiver.
YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983
NEW
2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC
TRACK
ALONG WITH: Only the opening title words are real.
To
sing along with the new 2012 lyrics, go to my blog, and click the
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0555; and scroll down until the page comes up
with the words to the song, YO.
Oh
boy, here comes the sub-woofers, let us see how bad this gets folks,
as 911 is only a telephone call away, and I have a working landline
phone.
MORIANITY-2
JWC2-DAY-00010-BLOG-A
12:50
AM-EST
EARLY
MONDAY MORNING HERE AT FORT PIERCE, FL
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR, BLOGS 'URLS'
Without
beginning in 2006, and at least skimming through my seven year
blogging career, you will be totally clueless to what all of this
MORIANITY
is all about, and maybe it is better that way; as who can ever know?
I
got through a slightly better weekend, but learned quite a lot of
powerful things. Even though, and if you don't know about APE or
Applied Parallel Event, and have not read about it on my many
postings and many blogs, then this will make as much sense to you as
your dog throwing sticks for you to fetch, and you agreeing to its
game; but despite the cunt lapping PHILADELPHIA
FLYERS ICE HOCKEY TEAM
NOT PLAYING THIS SEASON, meaning
that I should not have had anywhere near this bad of a fucking time
of things since late ass September, when the total mother fucking
opposite is what actually occurred; there was a very good reason
indeed, for the fucking shit that has been pummeling me, since this
time of the GREAT INTERACTION OF WHAT I'LL REFER TO HERE, AS
CHAIN-2, 42.7 years apart, as far as being why I say 2, as in
one and then two, the first wild interaction with this CHAIN,
was in early middle December somewhere, back in the fucking ass year
of 1969, YO YO!!!
This
horrible twenty-twelve year, that now has 22 hours and mother fucking
49 minutes left in it, and so, REAL MORIANS know why I am doing
fucking this right now, 555555555555 plus 555555555555555555555 times
555555555555555555, is equal to I do not give a rats hell in hot
moldy puke at light speed squared, but yes; this year is nearing its
horrendous evil ass end, and GOOD RIDDANCE
to this rotten filthy fucking year of absolute shitty stenchy hell
for me. Oh yes, the entire year was horrible; and broken down into
three major events, that made it this way; all though as they were
coming into my life I of course was totally unable to see the
Forrest, from the Jason trees. First was the HUTCHINSON
ISLAND BEACH ROBBERY, where all my shit was stolen by some
filthy criminal fucking thief, while I went swimming that day around
the first day of summer. Then in early autumn, one season later, came
the powerful CHAIN-2 WILD INCREDIBLE DREAM,
with my kid. This seemed to do many things all at that very same
time, along with the hellish nightmare of the 'psychic stereo',
discussed on many blogs from these past days. Also during all of
this, was my attempt to post up a song, remade from a song that I'd
written at the age of twenty-eight and a half years, back in the late
spring time in 1983 called, “Girl, I'll Tell You Anything”,
renamed and redone with slight alterations, a new title, and new
lyrical content; the 2012 title now being, “YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER”. Then the big automobile repair expense
when I am living right down to the penny-wire, and this 120 dollars
may seem laughable to a lot of you reading this, but to me, IT
FUCKING ENDED MY WORLD, and forced me onto a bread and water diet,
frikkin literally, throughout this fucking unspeakable and brutal
last month, of this despicable, and deplorable year, of 2012. This
was money that I did not have, and caused me to borrow it from my
State Farm monthly auto debit pay system; so I will need to pay them
their normal insurance monthly amount twice in January, which is why
I have been forced to mother fucking cancel my COMCAST
CABLE SERVICE, to compensate, or I will be eating bread
and water, and crackers and piss for another month, YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now I've lost my only e-mail
address, as of around January the tenth, as when the cancellation
kicks in, the internet and the e-mail fucking go,
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So these three cunt
lapping mother fucking total disasters, WIPED ME FUCKING COCK SUCKING
TOTALLY OUT IN 2012, YO YO!!!!!
W-------O-------W
DID
THIS YEAR WIPE ME TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY OUT, GOOD FOLKS, YO,
WHAAAAAAAAA, but SUPER-WOW,
more wild shit is happening, and not all of it is bloggable.
When
I went to sleep two nights ago or really, I suppose it was Saturday
morning right after it started getting light outdoors, I went into a
major wild interaction that was so beyond telling in mortal words,
that it is like comparing the attempt to do so, with trying to beat
up a heavyweight boxing champion, when you are at the age of four. It
involved the same bridge that I was at where Sarah had her yellow
telephone some place close, and this occurred while working at that
Roadway Trucking site for 29 straight hour shifts, before such things
became federally illegal to do, back in the first years of this third
millennium. I cannot tell you too much, other than the fact, that if
anyone were to read the last few months of my 2007 blogs, and then
early into my 2008 blogs; you would begin to see some strange things
that without so doing, reading past the time shortly to follow this,
where I was not blogging at all and was totally off-grid for about
seventy days; would make no sense at all, yet by reading back from
say early autumn in 2007 until I do stop the blogs for seventy days,
well, do it; and then get a major unfathomable frikkin mind blow,
from here to fucking 'eternity, maternity, and Outer Limits early
sixties great black and white television shows'. Oh Jennifer and
Tiffany, where are the two of you when this poor old ugly fat slob
wehtahd needs you so much, like Hyundai-2006-DUH??
I've
said it before, and will say it again, EMOTION is a powerful reality,
that is a lot more than just some part of chemistry reactions, on the
Physical Plane, taking part in brain matter of humans. First off,
there are five senses, and all of us have varying degrees of acuity
of all of them, some see better, some see worse; same thing goes with
hearing, tasting, smelling, and feeling. This last one, as my kid
might say, should be “Put on top”, local walls notwithstanding.
This is because, this sense can do some really amazing stuff, when it
is increased beyond the norms. You can feel things to the point where
your heart will explode, and you would die. I am able to daydream in
ten seconds from full normal waking beingness, into interactions so
frightening, such as falling off of a mountain or a tall building,
that my heart literally explodes, and then the World Laboratories
needs to retrace me again. To practice this, anyone can do this on
lesser degrees. Just tune out all else around you and see yourself
falling off of a large height, and tumbling, and keep doing it, and
believing it, until your heart races; and after a minute or so, the
average person pulls back and stops, takes a few deep breaths, and
hopes that their heart slows back down. Now this is just an example.
With enough controlled sense feeling, you can place yourself
anywhere, at any time, and the daydream will become an eventual full
blown dual reality. You can hear people in cars talking privately,
and learn secrets, even though they may be thousands of miles away.
You can place yourself into deep space, and battle enemies with more
emotion than watching the greatest sci-fy show or movie ever written
and made, on the greatest movie screen or home theater system. This
is the ultimate so called VR, or Virtual Reality. Only a very few
peeps are doing this, and can do this; and I am one of them; but I
talk about it. Others are all in fear of rejection, and scorn; and
being totally sociologically ostracized from their lives. They still
do this, but they keep it very secret. Hmm. Well, let me get off of
this yellow-telephone now, Ingrid in early 1984, as this is getting
very-very-very old, right Copyright Office Examiners of those times,
YO? I could say a trillion octillion more things, but it may be wiser
to just do a Sidney Mirrors Crown here, and just shut the shit
up!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION, FOLKS,
WHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MORIANITY-2
JWC2-DAY
00008-BLOG-A
2:30
AM-EST-HERE IN ROTTEN ASS FORT PIERCED, FL
EARLY
ON A SATURDAY ROTTEN LOUSY STINKING
MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING,
YO
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION, DOGS:
Gee
willagars, lads and lassies, I have a few things to tell you before I
crash and burn out of this super mother fucking BOTBAR ASS DAY, YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Golly,
gash, darn, Copyright Office of 1988, and fellow time manipulators,
along with Petee Pote, and Sheri Lee as well, with SHOE BOXES, and
Saturn Automobiles; huh Stephanie, YO? So let us get right down to
fucking cases, shall we BRO and SIS?
That
slutty little mother fucking demon is back, who I have named
'DISDEE'
for Disappearing Demon entity, the little bitchy
whore, that enjoys making my shit vanish out of sight; sometimes for
good and all, right Ebeneezer Scrooge?
I
asked the great GAWKY GAUKAUK KITTY CAT
some things, and now need to share it with my BLOGAUD, YO.
Before
I get to the Q&A GAWNUM SHIT folks, I need to tell you, that my
mother fucking illegal jerk off neighbors have been PURE FUCKING CUNT
HELL AGAIN, for the past few days. Monday, I am driving over to the
Fort Pierce Police Station, and signing a complaint against them for
personal harassment. I am taking these fucking jit bag scum suckers
to court. Then I am suing the Public fucking Housing Authority, for
mistreatment. All day again, and worse than ever, SLAMMING FUCKING
DOORS, HALLWAY SHOUTING, BOOMING SUBWOOFER STEREO NOISE, and that's
exactly what it fucking is, no talented fucking rotten
NOISE!!!!!!!!!!!!
People
who can actually write music and sing to it, are out of business, as
now we basically have, and have had for a long while, THE
NOISE INDUSTRY. I do not know where the fucking music
industry vanished into. Maybe I should cunt eating ask my rotten
friend, DISDEE????????????????
I
asked three questions, and also, played another SYSTEM-ROULETTE game,
winning another fucking 3 units for a total of 4 units today on super
BOTBAR TIMES TWO, or $400.00 on the 1986 Atlantic City gaming level
that I used to play, when I would go to the New Jersey fucking ass
casinos back then,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am not going to
lie to you folks, THIS IS A REAL COCK SUCKING KICK ASS ROULETTE
SYSTEM, RIGHT UP CLOSE TO PARALLEL EVENT ITSELF. Jason Forrest and
his garbage WFMU has me plastered on the internet, discussing a tiny
bit of the topic of applying parallel event to this game of roulette,
on that fucking page he put up about 'MEET MARK', and 'Crackpots From
New Jersey'. Turn down that pull gain, Jason, at least DEEZY SLIM
does not distort his music on YOUTUBE. If you cannot hit his magic
levels, without distorting; then turn it down,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me keep my transdimensional
Cifaloglio boss happy, so I don't get lifted up off the ground, or
for that matter, let me keep Nick happy, so he doesn't grab my throat
again, like he did elsewhere in hyperspace, at the fucking
Lakehouse, back in early Oh-M-9. SHEEEIT!!!!!
OK,
I'm bushed Mister ex-President, so let me get the 2 Q&A things
done, and sign the hell off of this blog.
QUESTION
1 FOR THE GAWNUM:
WHO
OR WHAT IS MOST RESPONCIBLE FOR MY TOTAL FUCKING 2012 MISERIES, AND
WANTS ME DEAD THE MOST OUT OF ALL OF MY WOMO-M2F ENEMIES???????????
ANSWER-PCN-121,
THESE INCLUDE MY ITEMS AS FOLLOWS YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
APRIL
TWENTY SEVEN TWENTY ELEVEN----''GLOOMY SUNDAY'' SONG----ROYAL
FLUSH----DANCE MUSIC----CHERRY HILL----EMPIRE STATE
BUILDING-----------------------------------
QUESTION
2 FOR THE GAWNUM:
WHY
AM I SO PREVENTED AND SANCTIONED, FROM BEING ABLE TO LIVE, USE SOCIAL
MEDIA, HAVE MY OWN FAMILY, HAVE ANY KIND OF A NORMAL LIFE AT ALL, OR
EVER BE ONE BIT RECOGNIZED FOR MY TALENTS AS A WRITER OF ANY KIND,
WHEN I KNOW DAM WELL I AM NOT ALL THAT TERRIBLE; AND REALLY FUCKING
YUKKY SHIT IS GETTING MILLIONS OF HITS AND VIEWS?????????????
ANSWER-PCN-220,
THESE INCLUDE MY ITEMS AS FOLLOWS YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ASTRAL
PLANE----MARIAH CAREY COMING TO ME IN DREAMS----BOOK OF BEACH----HIP
HOP MUSIC----MOUNTAINPEN----GODDESS JEHOVAH'S DREAM----DONNA
SUMMER----JEDD CLAMPETT----LIVE FOREVER----TEENAGED GIRLS FLIRTING
WITH ME IN MY FIFTIES----SANDRA MASON
WELL
FOLKS, YO, I AM GOING TO SLEEP, AND HOPEFULLY I WILL NOT HAVE
HORRIBLE FUCKING NIGHTMARES, TO USE YOUR FORWARD MORTAL LINGO HERE,
WHAAAAAAAAAA.
Maybe
it is just a coincidence, but it is funny that this nabe shit started
up real bad, right after I was working on a wild new system for
winning lotteries. I did not say anything, but “THEY” fucking
know every cunt lapping thing I do. How can I win, or beat something;
that as even SUPERMAN was quoted
as saying, in the original 1957 black and white television show,
about the machine that could turn the crooks and robbers invisible;
“That I can't see”? He makes
one hell of a point, with or without any horses, fudge shops, Warren
Grove, New Jersey's; or accidents!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
Trump, Wolf, Macy, and all others, let's do it, and get it fucking
over with, to quote old Tommy Pervert Reale, from 1970,
*****W----O----W*****.
WHAAAAAAA!!!
END
TRANSMISSION, YO DOGS!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER, 1983 REWRITE
(C)2012
NEW LYRICS, FROM OLD TUNE,
'GIRL,
I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING'
COPYRIGHT
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2012, REWRITE FROM 1983 ALSO COPYRIGHTED UNDER TITLE
THEN, “GIRL, I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING”, NOW UNDER REWRITE TITLE OF
“YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER”
VERSE
ONE
I'm
so very happy for you, pales of fish so fresh and new
Let
me ask you really nicely, could you spare us just a few
Oh
my wife and kids are starving, could you help us make a stew
We're
down and out, and we will even go to work for you
You
seem to have about a dozen giant pales or two
I
am so weak and faint and do not wanna' be so blue
While
we slept inside the dunes, somebody stole my shoe
Oh
please kind sir, just take some pity, let us work for you
We'll
help in any way we can, and be your loyal crew
But
greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
And
I'm not giving any freaking fish away
VERSE
TWO
So
when you add your salty tears directly in the sea
And
when you're done your song of woe, that you have sung to me
Just
take your wife and kids, and jump right off this big jetty
And
right into the undertow, and stop annoying me
And
talking on and on and on, and bothering my fish
You
loud annoying bleeding hearts, that beg and cry and bitch
I
have lots of work to do, and buckets must be filled
So
either leave this jetty now, or someone might be killed
Guys
like me must catch our fish, like farmers fields get tilled
People
say I'm cold and cruel, on every single day
But
I have got a lot of freaking bills to pay
So
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
THREE
They
say the greatest mother lies there out beyond the sand
And
mothers can get angry when their kids are out of hand
Storms
blow out of nowhere and, a lot of folks have died
The
sea can give and take away, while many tears get cried
And
on one very special day, a greedy man was drowned
Ignoring
waves that swallowed rocks with heavy pounding sound
Just
another bucket and, then he'll have caught his fill
A
lot of daring fishermen forget the sea can kill
The
king fish of the jetty, just was never seen again
Yet
locals claim the winds still howl these words from fisher Ben
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
So
yes I have a lot of freaking bills to pay
And
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
FOUR
You'll
be crossing over, later wishing you'd been nicer
You'll
be crossing over, through the quantum waving splicer
You'll
be crossing over, hearing all the trash they're talking
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll have to keep on walking
You'll
be crossing over, watching all the others eating
Feasts
with banquet tables, where the fish keep on repeating
Forever
seeing many fish, but never on your plate
You
had your time back in the sun before you sealed your fate
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll be a lonesome rover
Forever
doomed to hear the words you always used to say
That
you've been working hard out in the sun all day
Oh
yes we knew you had your freaking bills to pay
So
you're not giving any of your fish away
END
OF SONG.
THIS
DAM SONG HAS CAUSED THE WORST YEAR FOR ME NOW, SINCE I DIED OF AIDS
IN 1983; AND AS YOU KNOW, NOTHING CAN KILL ME FOREVER, AND THE GRAVE
IS UNABLE TO HOLD A CURSED, AND CHOSEN
HUNTINGTON.
LISTEN
TO THIS ON YOUTUBE, AND SING ALONG, YO!
IN
THE MIDDLE OF JANUARY OF 2013, I GET INTO STUFF ABOUT WHY FOLKS WILL
NOT TRUST USING MY LINKS, AS THERE SEEMS TO BE SOME MAGICAL HACKING,
THAT IS CONNECTED TO ALL OF THIS; SO KEEP READING FROM HERE THROUGH
THE BLOGS OF JANUARY, OF TWENTY-THIRTEEN, GOOD FOLKS.
DO
NOT DOUBT TIME MAINPULATION, OR 'STM'.
IT
IS REAL.
IT
MAY NOT WORK THE WAY YOU THINK IT DOES.
BUT
PEOPLE, I ASSURE YOU, IT IS VERY REAL, AS REAL AS REAL CAN EVER BE;
AND A CODE FROM SSJKK.
MORIANITY-2
JWC2-DAY
00007-BLOG-C
5:25 PM-EST
SUPER BOTBAR X
2, SUPER SIEGE X 1
FORT PIERCE,
FLORIDA, USA ES-MWG
STARTING
FUCKED UP TWEETY BIRD BWOG, WHAA.
OK,
John HOSEDREAMS KING MONKS, and other
Morians, Lessians, and all Inbetweenians out here, YO; I played five
short ROULETTE GAMES, AND MADE
SIX UNITS OF PROFIT, OR $600.00, as I play on the money chip black
hundred dollar gaming level; this of course is played hypothetically,
but will not always be, and later on, I'll fucking blow your mind
with some really wild fucking mathematical shit, folks. My QUANTUM
ROULETTE was four out of the five games, and I played my enemy
faction of WOMO NABE-SCUM twice, and my enemy faction of WOMO AIR
PERSECUTOR DIRTBAGS twice, and with the NABES, ended up flat even
with them. With the aerial persecutors however, it was minus one on
the first game, and plus three on the second game, for a +2 PROFIT,
so the NABES was a 0. The other four units came from my really
fucking dynamite system, and this made me four units of profit, or
$400.00 of profit, a total day profit, on one of the worst days of my
fucking life, and worst two day Botbar string; of $600.00, using the
black gaming chips that I used in Atlantic City, in 1986. Yesterday
on Botbar X 1, I quit at one unit ahead, so the systems roulette made
me a two day total of $500.00, during these last two days of SUPER
FUCKING HELL, or an average of $250.00/day, AND EVEN ON THE GREEN
QUARTER LEVEL, AN AVERAGE OF $62.50 FOR BOTH DAYS OF MISERY AND
FUCKING ASS HELL. HA-HA-HA-HA-HA HA HA HA
HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
asked my GAGA magic black Astral-Plane kitty cat, just
YYYYYYYYYYYYYY, with or without any cool toys like bikes, trains, or
1981 video-games; this 2 days of hell-death-siege, and BOTBAR attack,
struck again after two quiet days that followed fucking cunt eleven
straight days of super shit, like that was not enough punishment, and
fucking torture for me to fucking ass endure; and the reply to my dam
query, was PCN-660.
Here are the gods dam match-book items for this number, answering my
question of this unspeakable fucking eternal suffering that I'm cunt
eating going through, L-4, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEALTH---POLICE---DREAMS---FREDERICK
HINGER.
TWEET-TWEET-TWEET,
& ENDING BLOG, YO!!!!!
MORIANITY-2
JWC2-DAY-00007-BLOG-B
2:30
PM-EASTERN STANDARD TIME
SUPER
MOTHER FUCKING BOTBAR, AND DEATH SIEGE,
FROM
WOMOTAMM-MILI-2-FORCE FUCKING SCUM, FBI:
CHEMTRAILS,
and BLASTING SUBWOOFER EVIL MONSTER NEIGHBORS,
are making this BOTBAR TIMES TWO DAY, MONSTROUS, HORRENDOUS, AND
FUCKING TOTALLY DEPLORABLE. MY ENTIRE FUCKIING DECEMBER IS FAR WORSE
THAN EVEN AUGUST OF MOTHER FUCKING 1986. I KNOW YOU HAVE NEVER CUNT
EATING HEARD THIS BEFORE, FROM THE FUCKING ASS
MOUNTAINPEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
DEBBIE
WAS OUTSIDE ON HER SMOKE BREAK AT THE PARKING LOT SOUTH SIDE ENTRANCE
TO THE BUILDING, WHEN I CONFRONTED HER ABOUT STUFF, AND IN PERSON.
SHE TOLD ME, THAT IF INDEED I MARRY, SHE WILL MOVE ME TO A ONE
BEDROOM UNIT, FAR AWAY FROM THESE EVIL FUCKING PEEPS FROM HELL, IN
UNIT #608, WITH THE BIG LION HANGING OUTSIDE THE DOOR; WHICH HAS BEEN
THERE EVER SINCE THEY MOVED IN HERE, TO SHOW ME THEY
ARE KING, AND THAT THEY HAVE BEEN SENT HERE BY THE DOCTOR
CORAL SAGAN UPPING IT ONE DIMENSION L&M CIGARETTE COMPANY. ARE MY
MESSAGES GETTING ACROSS, OLD FUCKING BUDDY, RON WIRTZ SENIOR, from
the NINETIES, AT THE FUCKING CAMDEN COUNTY
PROSECUTOR'S OFFICE IN NEW JERSEY, FUCKING YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO ????????????????
“Chemtrails
of 1987” *** 'MY' PERSONAL STORY ON YT.
“YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER”
***
THEY
TOTALLY HACK ME, AND VIOLATE MY FIRST AMMENDMENT RIGHTS, AND GET
FUCKING TOTALLY AWAY WITH IT, YO. Someday, you all will burn in
eternal fucking ass hot hell, you cock licking ass
bastards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Techno-pop,
created/produced/sang/ entirely by computer technology. Still, most
peeps above shoe size IQ, know that the
intro to the song,
was the sample for the harmony vocals, wow; what a new age we are
living in, YO.
Hacking
again, FEDS; as the 'share' will not work. I had to type in the
address of my work here, and underline it, so it may
or may not hyperlink in. I intend to try it, once I post up to my
Wordpress, and my Blogger sites. All of this is a total violation
of my civil rights, and you know this, SHERIFF MONKS, and
sit there idly by, and let the 36th
Avenue's get away with it, SHAME ON YOU SHIRLEY GLANDS DOOGIE 2!
THE
MORNING LIGHT, © MARK WAYNE MOHR, 1980, WRITTEN IN 1979, OWNED 100%
BY ME, ASK THE © OFFICE.
YES,
THE MORNING LIGHT WORKS, CHEMTRAILS OF 1987 WORKS, BUT THE YBCO SONG
WILL NOT UNDERLINE WHEN I DO THE VERY SAME COPY JOB, AND HIT ENTER
SPACE. IT SHOULD UNDERLINE, FCC, AND FBI, AND WILL NOT; AS GOOGLE HAS
BEEN HACKING ME FROM 36TH AVENUE, ALL THIS TIME; AND THERE IS NO
STOPPING IT. AND THEN YOU FUCKING WONDER WHY I WANT TO END THIS SICK
DISEASED FUCKING TWISTED WORLD, WHEN THERE CAN NEVER BE ANY LIFE, OR
ANY JUSTICE FOR FUCKING ME; NOT
CUNT EATING EVER, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
********END
TRANSMISSION:********
MORIANITY-2
JWC2-DAY-00007-BLOG-A
2:21
AM-EST
ENDLESS
HACKING, ENDLESS PERSECUTION
JUST
AS CONDOR AND FALCON SAID WOULD BE.
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
The
computer was hacked big time, by my GOOGLE enemies at the (650)
world. Watch out, Nitro might bite you, Lenny. Oh well, if not, go to
Westmont, New Jersey; back in early June of 1969, as Roseann Delaney
will definitely take a nice chunk out of your passionate neck. FBI,
you should be so fucking ashamed of yourselves, allowing all this to
be done to me; you miserable mother fucking jerk offs. Not only am I
a citizen of this gods forsaken ass hole nation, but my seventh
grand-pappy was one of the founding fathers, and served many terms as
the Governor of Connecticut, long before we shot up innocent
children; dying in office in the year of 1790, along with his good
pal, Benny Franklin. Still, you should all burn in fucking hell for
this endless persecution of a totally innocent victim. I did not
cause your recent fucking disaster, as nobody goes up onto my site,
so how can I be? It only happens if lots of folks view and hear
something, electronically posted or recorded; that comes from what
you mortal ignoramus's call, the 'dream-worlds'. I have posted up
about twenty blog links on the new work, yeah right new my ass, as if
Orwell and his days are new, try fucking coming up on thirty cunt
lapping years ago, YO. I have no cock sucking rights, or civil
liberties, in this country. I can do something that is perfectly
legal, but when I do; I get covert persecution. Tell me that's
freedom, and I'll fucking whip myself off three times fast, in front
of the nine Supreme Court Justices, in Washington; and don't think
that I mother fucking won't, you dam snake bums. You know who you
are. When I curse at folks, the innocent know it is not directed at
them, and those who even have to wonder and scratch their heads for a
minute, they know it is meant indeed for them, right ya' pricks?
When
they thought that my MORIANITY was done and over with, and it was for
a while, the nabes got quiet. As soon as it started up as fucking ass
MORIANITY-2, KA-POW
and HYPER-BOOM,
all hell broke
loose, as if this should fucking cunt shock me one cock licking tiny
bit, YO?
Folks,
I have been illegally wet works covertly halted, sanctioned, stopped,
and totally prevented, since the day that I was sent to the NJNP
Institute of Princeton, New Jersey, USAESMWG, in September of 1965,
for my sixth fucking ass grade school year, until late in June of
1966; oh wonderful Salvador Ventura, my old pal from there; by some
force that I can only give the name of, and have thus done, the
WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE;
and for reasons that are totally unfathomable even to me; from having
any kind of normal interaction with Planet Earth's global society, in
any mother fucking way, EVER. This would include anything pertaining
to relationships, and normal family situations, spouses, normal
children that can be recognized, and stuff in non direct family ways,
yet still social circles; and the proof of this is when I attempt to
join this new fucking age social media, and am totally prevented, and
messed with. Also, not just am I sanctioned socially, but
financially; as 'they'-'WM2' destroyed my entire education, and it
was a major fucking evil conspiracy from the swing bat, since I was
the age of ten years, and the James Stoy School in Westmont had to be
in on it somehow back then, and my principal, Miss Turner, a very
nice lady of about age sixty, give or take ten years, as memory can
make this unclear from the perspective of a ten year old. Google
refused to offer me any help when I asked them about how to do a
Youtube Page,
or bring traffic up to view my posted music videos, and I ended up
fucking hanging up the cock sucking telephone on them early yesterday
fucking afternoon. They said that no humans are available to speak to
about Youtube, it is all robotic, so for those who are internet and
computer challenged, as many older folks such as myself are, we by
pure fucking default, have been singled out to be SHUT OUT AND
IGNORED; not permitted to ever share our stuff with each other, as
just because you youngsters out fucking here from 8-46 or so, think
you're all so hot and great, we exist too, and we should be able to
share our stuff from our day and our culture in music. If all you
want is loud thumping and no talent whatsoever, and this brings you
millions of views, fine, that is your world; but we old fucking farts
should not be excluded from this device and technology, as our world
has every bit as much of a fucking cunt right to exist, and exchange
free expression on this tool, as any of you whipper fucking cunt
snappers. Screw all of you. I am all packed up, and leaving next week
for fucking MEXICO, and this time, it is fucking final. You never
thought that I'd leave New Jersey, and I said I would over and over
and over, and you just keep fucking cunt pushing me, and pushing me
until I couldn't take it any longer; and so in the dead of fucking
night, on the eleventh of December in 2009, POP, I was gone forever
from there, vanished, kaput, fuck you, Ann and Dawn; and fuck your
whole rotten miserable family of
monsters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Diana Ross said something
in 1983 that I still have a copy of, and will treasure it until the
day I wake up out of this nightmare life, as I could not agree with
her more, if she threw me down, and fucked my brains out all night
long, “I DON'T NEED
THIS, NO HOW, NO NOTHING”!
I
still have some 'AT BATS' left, before I do trudge down to fucking
Mexico; so
don't go counting a strike three on me yet, ya' jit
bag snake turds. I don't quit and run away, with my head under my
broken wings, as easily as you 'WOMO' scum enemies may wish I'd do.
Eat me, you fucking gods dam scum bag low life bottom feeding toilet
water lappers.
Well
folks, Dave Roth tried to buy a set of drums, and I told the story of
the day his only car, a used Caddy, died on him; many times on these
past seven fucking years of my blogs, YO DOGS, WOLF WOLF! Any time
either he or I ever tried to do ANYTHING WHATSOEVER, having to do
with MUSIC, in any way, shape, or form, disaster struck each and
every time. This is why I know indeed that there are Astral-Plane
gods who enjoy teasing certain targeted folks, and playing endless
games with them, as pure distracting amusement; keeping them from
thinking about the truth of never not being able to exist, and if you
mortals understood this, you would go insane. Get on your fucking
knees and pray to whoever you do thank, that you merely see me as a
tin foil hat crazy person, and that you have no idea at all, what is
being told on Morianity all this time. I am not trying to create a
large group of babbling idiots, gone crazy forever from reading my
blogs, but I do know that a select few have been effected by my
words, as I have proof of my own, that this is indeed the total
absolute truth. I call it the Joe Paget Syndrome, speaking of
straight lines from Fort Pierce, Florida, leading due north to
Roadway Trucking, in Pennsylvania, in the Hatboro area, near the
intersection of Route 309, and County Line Road; in the county that I
was physically born in, at the Brwn Mawr Hospital, at 9:30 AM on the
fourth of December in 1954, called, no not Elizabeth, not Twitchy
Witch Nose, but the County of Montgomery, like the general. My mother
welcomes you, both Generals, as I know that you are enjoying the
hospitality of the Ricktown Manor Restaurant, and your pal George is
normally there at his endlessly reserved table, that spins around for
unknown reasons, called, table number fifteen.
FBI,
this computer is not here for you guys, or others that you should be
protecting me from out in San Mateo County, Cali, and anyone's
amusement. I have legal fucking rights, so please respect them. If
you feel I need to be fucking prosecuted, and you think you can prove
some crime in your physical world court system; then have the cops
come up here and fucking cuff me, and take me to jail. Otherwise,
help me, or leave me alone; or find out what and why this is all
happening to me; and from whom, so I can press fucking charges; and
have my chance at a little bit of life that is more than deserved,
after 30 years of fucking making me suffer through unmentionable, and
unspeakable, and despicable torture.
I
think that agents are playing with me and have been now for about
13,000 fucking years, along with their fucking Transdimensional Trunk
Devices, that nearly got my poor elderly mother killed, and me along
with her back on August two, in 1996; at the New Jersey, Turnersville
Pathmark Shopping Center, on the Black Horse Pike. The Bible is a
very fascinating thing; last trumps, marks of beasts, white and black
horses, I mean, it is my life come alive, only two mother fucking
thousand years after the dam fact, YO!!!!!!!!
Yes,
the girl who played 'SARAH', on the television show called, “PARTY
OF FIVE”, went onto play in a
future show called, “GHOST
WHISPERER”. She was always
crossing people over, who died but seemed to be Earthbound. Well, try
crossing me over, as I have repeated this nightmare for more than 200
times now, and will go on doing it, until SARAH KRASSLE relents, and
tells me she loves me, right here in the physical world. I am sick
and tired of her dam teen aged games. http://youtu.be/Vqg3oty0JMU
End Tranny.
MORIANITY-2
JWC2-DAY-00006-BLOG-B
2:03
PM-EASTERN STANDARD TIME
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE'D' FLORIDA, BOTBARADA
MARK
WAYNE MOHR
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
FUCK
THE WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Another super BOTBAR day has
struck me folks, and DECEMBER has never had more than two cock
sucking ass days without a freaking ass BOTBAR, not fucking cunt
ONCE, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
was rudely awakened and assaulted, by my lowlife two legged roaches,
also known as neighbors, from across the hall, in unit #608, at just
past noon, two hours ago, with that pounding demonic mother fucking
subwoofer attack.
My
game-plan is simple. I will ask the reference desk at my local
library down by the Indian River, to research just who I need to
write to, as someone that is in my situation, at the Public Housing
Authority of Fort Pierce; and get the name and the address. The
letter is already done, and waiting to be placed into an envelope,
stamp already affixed, and waiting to go. It merely tells that I am
forced to go over the head of the building Resident Property Manager,
Mizz Debbie Marotto, as she will not do one thing to stop these
lawbreakers from harassing me on a continual basis, ever since they
moved in across the hall from fucking me in early autumn of eleven,
right old buddy, Darius Evans Slim? Glad to be of service, dude, and
after all, you did produce those three music video slide-show movies,
and posted it up to the rotten Youtube. Yes ladies and gentlemen,
MORIANITY-2 has gotten off to a really fucking ass bad start. I tried
to contact the YOUTUBE, but human contact with anything 'GOOGLE
related, is goose eggs ZERO-NADA-ZILCH-NONE-OVER-FINE'-AND WONDER
BREAD EARLY NINETIES RIPPED OFF TELEVISION COMMERCIALS. I had many
questions that are necessary for me to know and understand, and they
only have robot crap, both on the telephone, and online on their
site. Without help, I do not know how to make this 'homepage' that
they talk about, or bring any traffic to my site, and that is why not
one single person is up on it. So don't fucking blame me for the
storm, you cock suckers. I did nothing to cause it. All of the 15
views on the newest tune were attempts to link up the youtube share
number, onto my blogs, where nobody will click onto anyway, for
obvious, TOTAL MIND CONTROL REASONS.
The KJV BIBLE tells me all I need to know, the shit about the MARK of
the beast, the last TRUMP, and much much much more, that if I tied it
all together, and put a real pretty bow on top of it; would most
likely get me murdered within hours of my posting up this
information. I am learning as I go, slow and steady. Some folks age
58 years, are whizzes at this shit. Count me 'NOT'
amongst all of this. I guess I must face the fact that I'm a big fat
ugly old stupid fucking wehtahd!!!!!!!!!! The scripture that explains
that in the final thousand years of suffering and hellishness on this
planet of twisted disease, ruled by SATAN,
or the world of electronics, greed, corporate ownership of 99% of the
population, and total control over all of our lives; as this beats
any of the 4 winds or 4 horsemen, when it is left in a parable; any
day of the cunt lapping fucking week; don't you think, peeps, YO??? I
called the Comcast Cable folks, and they were very nice to me,
letting me keep my television service until early April, when I will
restore my service back to full; and I need not turn in my rented
apparatus; modems, whatever, since it is a short time duration. This
will save me all kinds of fees, plus high priced gasoline, and car
wear and tear, as the local office here in town is no longer in
service, as some of my audience is aware of, from reading that real
hellish BOTBAR day, some months back, when I thought that my TV Cable
Box had broken; only it suddenly just popped back up in fine working
order again; as did my mother fucking apartment air conditioning
system. Nee-nee-nee-nee-----nee-nee-nee-nee!! Where are you when we
could both use each other, Mister Rod ass Serling, of the Twilight
Zone, BRO?????????? Now my TV will stay on for a special offer price,
keeping all the channels that I now have, during this otherwise
off-service period, and including the tax, will be about 33 and a
half dollars for the next three months, instead of about just over
120 bucks a month. For keeping the TV, I could not resist that deal.
What has hurt me so much was the two automobile related expenses.
When your finances are practically down to the penny wire, a sudden
$60 registration tax fee, compounded with a mechanic bill of $120,
adds up to 180 fucking bucks that I just do not have; so this is my
only way of coming close to recouping the loss. An 85 dollar monthly
saving for three months will compensate for this loss of nearly 200
smacks. I am tired of living on piss and fucking crackers, while
putting up with persecution and harassment on top of it. This is
worse than living in fucking MAXIMUM
SECURITY PRISON,
and don't be too surprised if I go off soon, and end up in jail, as I
will live better in fucking jail, than I do in here. More sex, more
dope to make me forget the misery, 3 hots and a cot, and a gym to
keep in shape, a job in the laundry, and I can live with that; and no
fucking looking at chemtrails, and hearing loud aerial harassment.
Sounds like a hell of a deal, so don't be shocked, Sheriff Mascara,
if I go out and punch a cop right in the nose any day now, just to
get to fucking cunt lapping prison. You see, this is what I tried to
talk about after the Connecticut mass school shooting, but does
anyone listen? Yes, two people that meant a lot to me once, and I
still do try and overlook their shortcomings; but they have let me
down big time, and also think its funny in my opinion; and definitely
know who they are. Well then fine, cool, HA HA HA HA on poor old
fucked up little me, BRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
played the
system-roulette, and I made a few quick units
profit, and quit while I was ahead; before I started this blog, and
before I called the cable company. It amazes me how this great system
holds up throughout an entire month such as mother fucking, DECEMBER
OF 2012, as this is every bit as bad, AND WORSE; than
when this shit all got going, on and
after, the magic
evil date of August 15, 1986. By the way, I cannot post
anything with the numbers followed by little letters, such as a
shortened version of twelfth, or eighteenth, or second, and so forth;
on the blogger dot com website; as it hacks out every time. If I want
to make a second copy on my 3.1 Office Word Document System, I paste
into a copy blog and keep one the way I want it to be, and one for
posting. 'There is always some way around most things', a quote from
the fucking pathetic twisted old ugly diseased screwed up Huntington
Cursed MOUNTAINPEN, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
also asked GAGA CAT why this attack struck just past noon, from my
demonic evil uncouth enemy WOMO-MILITUFORCE PAWM-PIE-ETTOS-CONTROLLED
NEIGHBORS from unit #608, and the response given to me by the kitty
cat, was PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER-396, INCLUDING SHIT SUCH AS
FOLLOWS BELOW, YO BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MAD----CAN----POTATO
TEACUP----BURN WITH FIRE----RIPPED OFF 'LOST LOVE'
SONG----BUM----OIL----IAH----LAW----DIE----HARBORFIELDS----OVER THE
RIVER----OVER THE RADAR----
Well
you know, or you should know, if you are a follower of this
MORIANITY, 1 or 2; MIZZ JULIA WHITE PERMISSION BARRIER-1994-HALLOWEEN
DAY; that there are three major weapons used by the great
ASTRAL-PLANE LAMBRIGG CULT, WHILE THEY ARE DREAMED
DOWN INTO THE FIFTH DIMENSIONAL HYPERSPACE; AND THESE ARE, THE
PAWM-PIE-ETTOS, the illegal usage of APE against any innocent
targeted victims, unable to defend themselves on non level playing
fields, in this endless games-of-the-gods-distraction bull fucking
shit hell; APE standing for
(APPLIED PARALLEL EVENT), and there is also the usage of illegal
application of the technology of MAGNETIC PERCENTAGE, OR MP-TECK.
APE, MP-TECK or just MPT, are all so powerful; that no human waking
person, can accept those truths in their waking so-called real
tangible caporial physical life, as human beings. It is just too
terrible to believe, or sort of like a hundred cancers, all striking
all those who you care about overnight, or 'JOB100', when expressed
perhaps better algebraically. Any new thing that connects me, they
love to bring it in bad; IE, months, years, new blog books, such
as MORIANITY-2, and on and on I could mother fucking
go with this folks. If something begins bad, and continues bad, it
becomes very heavily magnetized to complete and finish up that way,
BAD, and the same would of course apply to good, only I certainly am
no fucking authority on that, and can bear nobody out here, any
witness to attest to the positive end of this technology when
misapplied by enemies, in my case, the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE,
YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!! Folks, I have learned that both APET and
AMPT have been used on me, by a totally invisible and stealthy,
covert, black operations, group of some kind; right after I came out
of whatever it was, that I exited from, after falling down on my
Cherry Hill, New Jersey bed, on the night of 08-15-1986; and then
waking up that morning. Oh yes Darius, old friend; you want to know
why MC wrote that 1997 song, and intro about how I can never ever get
away from the great All Mighty Scylla
Goddess IAM, and you too up there in that lovely and plush
Copyright Office Building, at the LOC in Washington, 13-600; well
then fine. Here is the answer given to me by a great magical
Astral-Plane black cat, by the name of GAWKY
GAUKAUK, shortened by me a couple of years ago, to 'GAGA',
because this cat, and what he knows and tells me; is more than enough
to make any sane mind become one and the same thing with an opened up
Pandora's Box, and really be forever GAGA. Get lost, musicologists,
and let us just keep this little GAWNUM Q&A about the PRIVATE
COSMICODED NUMBER given to me, or PCN. It indeed was given to me, and
it is none other than good old PCN-514; a
real wow answer for this particular question,
if that is, you understood my life as I do, and what these words and
collections of words are of personal meaning to me, and my fucked up
hellfire life for nearly 60 dam ass years,
BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So then folks, here are
the match-book items in my lists, the old school world from Midevel
and Biblical days for list, is not camera, or monster ass, or hub cap
smash, or even rubber car repairs; but it is, and you can ask the dam
Pope if you don't believe me, “CANON”, a list, a group of things
that are taken from a normally larger group, where for reasons that
could get one tortured and killed in screaming agony not all that
long ago; eliminated some stuff on a bigger list, and then merely
called the accepted smaller list, the canon or the list. When I tried
to contact Youtube today, Sir Sheriff Gregory Monks; guess what; they
are not that far from your office, and your area; with the non human
contact telephone number of none other than (650) 623-4000, a real
Macy word could be used here, right my wonderful followers, and no, I
am not mad or disappointed in any of you. Jesus had his Judas, and
many other cowards who were too scared to get behind a greater leader
than I could ever be, despite family genetics; and don't take me to
Berlin, New Jersey whatever you do, and never on the twelfth of July,
or you may just really, “GET ME GOING” here,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At the end of this blog, are
the match-list items for PCN-514 so don't leave me yet peeps. Scroll
down, click, or do what you want to do, BRO, its your life, and your
funeral, when someday the 'Cali Car Yeller's Club', just may end
frikkin up growing, and targeting a lot more of us little
Occupy-99ers; and then your odds will grow
and grow, of either becoming one of their victims, or
someone that is near and dear to your dam heart, could become the
target, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER, TUNE FROM 1983
NEW
2012 LYRICS TO FOLLOW THE HARMONY MUSIC TRACK ALONG WITH:
VERSE
ONE
I'm
so very happy for you, pales of fish so fresh and new
Let
me ask you really nicely, could you spare us just a few
Oh
my wife and kids are starving, could you help us make a stew
We're
down and out, and we will even go to work for you
You
seem to have about a dozen giant pales or two
I
am so weak and faint and do not wanna' be so blue
While
we slept inside the dunes, somebody stole my shoe
Oh
please kind sir, just take some pity, let us work for you
We'll
help in any way we can, and be your loyal crew
But
greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
And
I'm not giving any freaking fish away
VERSE
TWO
So
when you add your salty tears directly in the sea
And
when you're done your song of woe, that you have sung to me
Just
take your wife and kids, and jump right off this big jetty
And
right into the undertow, and stop annoying me
And
talking on and on and on, and bothering my fish
You
loud annoying bleeding hearts, that beg and cry and bitch
I
have lots of work to do, and buckets must be filled
So
either leave this jetty now, or someone might be killed
Guys
like me must catch our fish, like farmers fields get tilled
People
say I'm cold and cruel, on every single day
But
I have got a lot of freaking bills to pay
So
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
THREE
They
say the greatest mother lies there out beyond the sand
And
mothers can get angry when their kids are out of hand
Storms
blow out of nowhere and, a lot of folks have died
The
sea can give and take away, while many tears get cried
And
on one very special day, a greedy man was drowned
Ignoring
waves that swallowed rocks with heavy pounding sound
Just
another bucket and, then he'll have caught his fill
A
lot of daring fishermen forget the sea can kill
The
king fish of the jetty, just was never seen again
Yet
locals claim the winds still howl these words from fisher Ben
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day
So
yes I have a lot of freaking bills to pay
And
I'm not giving any of my fish away
VERSE
FOUR
You'll
be crossing over, later wishing you'd been nicer
You'll
be crossing over, through the quantum waving splicer
You'll
be crossing over, hearing all the trash they're talking
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll have to keep on walking
You'll
be crossing over, watching all the others eating
Feasts
with banquet tables, where the fish keep on repeating
Forever
seeing many fish, but never on your plate
You
had your time back in the sun before you sealed your fate
You'll
be crossing over, and you'll be a lonesome rover
Forever
doomed to hear the words you always used to say
That
you've been working hard out in the sun all day
Oh
yes we knew you had your freaking bills to pay
So
you're not giving any of your fish away
END
OF SONG.
VIDEO
LINKS FOR BLOGS, FROM YOUTUBE POSTINGS:
MORE
VIDEO LINKS TO BLOG FROM YOUTUBE:
PCN-514,
MATCH-BOOK ITEMS, YO!
BEACH---CURLS---ENDLESS
POVERTY---MOVING COMPOUND---MAUD HUNTINGTON---RUSSELL THAXTON---BY
THE TIME YOU GET THIS MESSAGE, IT WILL BE TOO LATE---
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
END
TRANSMISSION, YO!
MORIANITY-2
JWC2-DAY-00006-BLOG
A
SIXTEEN
MINUTES PAST ONE AM
THURSDAY
MORNING IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
Glory
be to me, as I know one thing more than anything else in the entire
world of worlds, totaling all of the hyperspace.
One
scripture that is in the KJV Holy Bible, and only one so far, in my
current 'me life' as Mark Wayne Mohr, is “Ask and it will be given,
knock and the door will open, seek and you will find”. This is both
paraphrased, and changed into non old English without all of the
'thees' and 'thous' and all that stuff, but at the final part of the
message that my sixty-first grandfather's uncle spoke, this screams
at me over the past Astral Plane recognized grouping of interaction,
that would equalize a material world score of so-called time, really
STM, or Space-Time-Mind. There of course is no STM, on the Astral
Plane, but this period there, known as the BRIPER, shortened from the
Briggbase-Period, is reflected in the Earth waking world television
show of some time back, running mid sixties until the beginning of
April, in 1971, called, “Dark Shadows”. Their Fan Club address is
a post office that if you call the post office, they will tell you
the box number I'm sure, and it is located in a place called,
Maplewood, New Jersey. Yes Mister Roddenberry, another 'place' called
New Jersey, and don't play me for a fool. We all know they used me
and my life, to give them that great TNG Star Trek episode about
Wesley Crusher's pal, the “TRAVELER”. Still, the 20 year period
is understood only too well, by me, by the Paul Stoddard Fans, such
as my great and awesome oldest daughter, and yes, by many others that
can all remain as nameless right now, as the dam north winds of cat
chases.
OK
folks, here we go again, old kids, new kids, and if you want to stuff
ear plugs in, along with Mister Marcus, and mister McGinty, go ahead;
you won't make me cry one single tear, kind audience. Forget about,
at least for right now, the Doogie Howser days, and let us take a
little journey quite a bit back in time further, to a time that a
particular 'traveler' and not the fake dude on the STAR TREK TNG
show, but one who is as Sarah said on 10-SC Avenue in the summer of
1969, a bit darker than he was, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA, and yes, he was
always fascinated with me, my high school, and my life, and for
reasons that go beyond just material stuff; whether the few who know
what is being said, can fathom it or not, as they in all perfect
worlds are thinking, well, if you're being totally up front here
about all this stuff, Mountainpen, then what is bigger than great sex
and great wealth, and as I told a new friend of mine recently, on an
e-mail message, the emotion that is experienced by being a real live
'traveler', is like riding a roller coaster at the age of six years
or there about, and then take the thrill of this, if you can, and
multiply that by maybe three or four billion times. Now go ahead
folks, and tell me that would not totally dwarf the greatest sex
life, billions of dollars, or any other thrill that the California
Car Window Hollerers Club of mystery, could ever possibly throw at
anyone. The proof of my statement folks, is the very existence
indeed, OF the CCWH Club, in the first place. Even with all that
happened to me in 1994-1996, this would be as we might say in
mathematics, HD1,000,000,000,000,000,000. That does not stand for
High Definition by the way, but Haddonwood. Now don't go dying on me,
old buddy and partner, Paul. Yes, from September of 1966 through June
of 1968, I attended the Haddon Township High School, and to be
perfectly honest, I could care totally less. But for reasons that
blow me away as of yet, my son in law thinks something about those
days and that place, is monster ass huge, to quote the dude, in a
parallel universe, when he said this to me, when I fell asleep one
night at the Highview Apartments, in early 1996, in Sarah Williams
Town, in New Jersey, Gloucester County, in Monroe Township, don't
slug me one, oh great other traveler, and yes, I've got it all now,
and lots of memory blocks have been knocked away, painful as it may
be, in more ways than one. Maybe he was fine, and hopefully old
George will be, but if not, he is always enjoying the hospitality of
good old Table-15 at the Ricktown Manor Restaurant, on Linelane 9910,
in Ricktown, Olympia. Give it up there, smiling Paul Stoddard. WOW,
Mister Macy, and co-writer old friend Mister Strauss. James
Patterson, try not to be too dam jealous, and no, none of this stuff
is 1% fictional, and I only wish to the gods that I could tell all of
you that it was. But this leads me to the 'HTHS', and a strange kid I
knew from the school just two blocks down the street, for the first
through sixth grade students, called James Stoy Elementary. Albert
Pileggi lived right down the road from both of these schools,
spitting distance, Hannah. Still, Tuggy was a cool dude, and would do
anything for you if he liked you, and if he didn't, well, a name pops
into my head, a grown up version of the kid that I knew in 1967, and
that would be my pal David Roth's best pal for many years before he
even met me at Caldor Department Store #113 in Woodbury Heights,
NJUSAESMWG in November of 1985, and his name was Bob Vandegrift, the
hater of Ronald McDonald, that I told about when my blogs were all
new the first two years, back in oh six and oh seven. Still, there
were reasons for my ending up at the farm outside of Haddonfield that
was special, and had a cosmic reality all its own; just as I informed
my educator in 1970, Mister David Leigh Smith. How I remember Irene
Cara, the lovely eighteen year old diva of 1980, doing the National
Anthem at one of the summer time Philadelphia Phillies games, wow
what a gorgeous dish. Still, Albert Pileggi, Bob Andrews, Irene Cara,
and others, take a back seat to the real reasons that the Phillies
began to be part of a huge parallel event with me and my own personal
life, right around this very time as the eighties replaced the
seventies, and I had actually moved into the farm outside of
Haddonfield, after indeed, and just as I told Smith in 1970, ten
years before that; was no longer producing food, and instead, a new
set of garden type apartments were built, called 'ROBIN HILL'. As I
told Eddie Lynch Himacane on the eighteenth day of December in 2006,
after McGuire and his crew accomplished their mission of again,
destroying another one of my automobiles, this time without almost
murdering me in the weeds and bays outside Atlantic City, and the US
© Office has the tapes of me and Roth in 1988, discussing the entire
thing, so don't play dumb ass with me, any of you; Trump or any of
you other rotten bastards, just quit frikkin insulting my
intelligence, please, TANKS! Yes, as I said to him before he
eventually was forced to board the same bus that I was on this very
route in 1970 that late night in July, the twelfth to be exact,
around 10:30 to quarter shy of eleven somewhere, and right there with
me were the great awesome girl gang that was known by many Jersey
local teen boys, as the Quoddy's or the Quoddy Mockers, or the Quoddy
Mocker Gang, of whom, the great Sarah Callio was one of, along with
Nina Soifer, Paula King, and many others. Oh yes, I said to him, when
he exited the vehicle and headed towards the bus, and he asked me
when I would be able to go to his house, at this time, where he
rented a small one little room, a place owned by the world famous
almost, Hammonton, New Jersey, Judge Frank Rasso, and I quote now
what I said, and maybe Tuggy should have been not so much there with
us that day, but also there with Irene Cara and her two two friends,
and also, not Jason Forrest Donna Summer, but the real 'McCoy', and
maybe he would have been able to heed a warning meant for him, a lot
more than it ever was meant for Eddie Lynch, “All bets are off”.
Now Mister Macy and Mister Trump, I will not print a large 'W' word
just to frikkin entertain your warped sick minds. Wait a second
folks, I just returned from a hyperspace experience, and am mixing up
a beautiful flower and a name almost like my youngest daughter's
insisted upon nickname of her, with this other dude. STM is a very
powerful thing, still, at least you are not the one in the shit can,
Tuggy. Well, if the relief pitcher of those times, or a few years
ahead, was good enough for the great awesome Motown Queen herself,
Diana Ross, I guess they are good enough for all big blonds, and
other big blonds, copyrighted music, motor cycle chains, and all
potential reactions and or near infringements, but hay; I'm a
forgiving person. Who gives a hoot-pollute about music anyway? I know
I don't, walls or no walls.
END
TRANSMISSION.
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