Friday, January 4, 2013

MORIANITY-2, JWC2, DAY 00014, BLOG-B


MORIANITY-2



JWC2, DAY 00014, BLOG-B



10:05 PM-EST



MARK WAYNE MOHR FROM FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

FORMERLY KNOWN AS FROM BLUEBERRYVILLE HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY, FOR YOU GOOGLE FREAKS.





LADS, LASSIES, LABBERS, AND LAB-DOGS, here it is, semi-short, definitely sweet, and not totally simple, but I'll promise to be my best, oh great pilot of the 1979 airwaves.





25-45 years ago, every dam thing you now hear on channels on the television line up system, such as Science Channel, or History-2 Channel, and Nova, and along the lines of documentaries for the intelligent and thinking folks; was all discussed by me, over an FBI-bugged telephone, as my father was a part of some huge stuff that caused our phone to be tapped since I was in grammar school, and not just from his treasure salvage operations, but many other things as well. There is no way, this information did not get spread around, and all of the WORLD OWNERS or the WO, know very well that I was ahead of the awareness curve to all of the wild crap now in circulation on all media sources from the internet, the television, to any and all other possibilities.





They also have figured out that I remain far ahead of this average or collective humanity awareness level, and so now, where stuff that you now are seeing in real time is just being digested to you, I am where you will be in twenty years from now, and that is, realizing that this entire thing is a huge dream out from a void reality, as how can anything be real and where would it come from, and thus, the only possible answer to all of the asked as well as unasked questions, is that indeed, nothing is real. That is correct, NOTHING, is what is real, say it either way and tease your brain, the same thing is being said. However, what we do perceive around us while seemingly awake in this tangible and 'caporial material physical life and plane of existence', is a DREAM, a created experience, done with MIND, not yours or mind, but a collective, that is one and the same thing with an actual realm, known as the sixth dimension. If this dream is in the three dimensions of length and width and height, and with the added item of these three dimensions in motion, giving the fourth dimension of time, and the time is not one reality but infinite possible lines of experience, then pure simply math tells us that this is the fifth dimension, or the hyperspace containing all of the virtually unlimited parallel reality universes. So the signal that is sent into this that makes it an item of reality to experience and reference, must be one dimension higher still, or the sixth. This is not some silly blog about how to make up stupid junk, to the contrary, it is based on very accurate and precise mathematical and scientific data. But I will also admit, that merged and married into this part of things, is the truth that my life has caused me the unusual reality of becoming quite aware of these truths, and this very awareness separates me from all of you, but not in distance, and not in time, nor in a parallel reality; but in the dimension above all of that, 'TRUTH', also known as the VOID, or zero dimension. To begin a new column of mathematical numeration, a previous grouping of 1-9, must lend itself back, to the inevitable zero. This is why this is what it is, and works as it does, and is why I am suffering and miserable, if I can compress an eternal fucking story into a couple of pages of text, that is, a totally absurd notion that I most of all, completely realize, and fully well know that I'm just wasting my fucking time, but I have forever, so really, who gives a fucking shit?



This morning I was in Debbie Morotto's office, my resident manager, here at this Public Housing Building. There will be a meeting of the residents soon to discuss the do's and don'ts, and I'll be notified, not with the usual notice stuck on the outside door slants, as she knows that the scum bags across the hall will remove it. They are in and out a lot, normal Friday fucking partying, but as long as music is low and doors are not slamming, then I have no problem with their asshole normal activities. Still, one thing cannot be glossed over here people, and that is, that ever since my WILD CRAZY CHAIN INTERACTION, back in middle late September of last year, these dirt bag nabes have totally changed their behavior, and as bad as they used to be, on a dime, they suddenly turned on me like a fucking World War ll Komocossi pilot, and yes, it is misspelled, and the cheap piece of fucking shit Spell-Checker, is its usual good for nothing, no help at all.



All of this leads straight back to my original point on this blog, the real truth of why this nightmare is, and always has been, unfolding around fucking me. Why am I so different from other people, and why am I being treated so wickedly by the co-inhabitants of this hostile fucking diseased planet, all of my fucking dam ass life; when I do nothing to warrant this wicked evil shit from fucking scum ball people. Why am I unable to ever catch the smallest break in the world of business or social stuff, or anything that normal mother fucking human beings, take for granted; and act like it is nothing, when to me; doing the smallest task, is made to appear totally fucking herculean? Then these scum bags that have stalked me all my life because of my father, and the gods only fucking cunt know what other things, wonder why I would sell my FUCKING CUNT SOUL TO THE DEVIL, if I indeed had a soul, and if there indeed was a real 'devil', to be able to make this entire world explode into about nine vigintillion tiny pieces of dogshit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, despite the WOMO-MILITUFORCE enemies keeping me from both living any kind of a normal life, as well as ever be able to learn just exactly what is causing this and why it is all happening to me; there is a balancing constant, where some things do, praise the fucking lords, seem to take a form and a shape, and not remain nameless faceless fucking matter. Following a lot of facts for a long time led me to lots of fucking shit, but that is nothing. That does not even take me close to ending this horrific fucking HUNTINGTON CURSE, as UI have come to label my personal condition, and position in my rotten ass family that is 4,000 traceable years old, way more than the Rocky's the Built's, the Trump's, or the Macy's, or any of them all put together, and you can grow the list as long as your arm for all I care. So these words are a direct letter/message, to the father of a now government employee at the CAMDEN COUNTY PROSECUTOR'S OFFICE, in Camden, New Jersey, USA-ES-MWG, Ron Wirtz. Just exactly why you played your game with me and especially at the end, I'll never know, Ron, kind sir, but you have to admit one thing, pal. I obeyed you, I followed your fucking advice to the dam letter. I followed the facts, or as you said, I did my legwork. All I did since all this started, was what you TOLD ME TO DO, and I broke no physical plane laws with any physical plane tools or weaponry, and of course, this is why this bvlog is not being posted up from jail, and only why, as we both know, kind sir, my enemies would fucking salivate to see me in an orange jumpsuit, cuffed, and in a 6X9 cell with some bozo. I think what you did was what you had to do, and that is why I do not totally hate you, but don't take that as total forgiveness from me. I haven't gone that soft. But sure, I have come to understand the many BRICK WALLS, from the BLUEBOOK, the AT&T, the WOMO, or whatever. Still, if you are still alive and breathing, you are a rotten human being for not contacting me, as you and I could still converse over this new age fool tool, and perhaps I would be able to take my attempts at finding a solution to this unfathomable hellish nightmare, still closer to the ultimate conclusion, that is obviously, I am fighting the All mighty, and I think that you knew this all along, or at least, knew about the family, and if you ever read my 2010 blogs from that springtime, while I was newly residing here in Florida, and living in the RV Park in the White City section of town, on Route One; then you know about the strange laboratory and swimming pool filled with black shellfish shells, and the peeps who followed me into that long hallway, as I do know that this place is indeed somewhere, to quote you, where I'll find some answers, in Carlisle, Pennsylvania.
      
      *****WHAAAAAAAAA, kind sir!*****

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