I want to discuss something, and need to first type a paste-in from a blog some time back, late last year maybe somewhere; and then I wish to take what I am saying then and there, into a more scrutinized and heightened format, expressing why many times, my nightmare existence seems to be so endlessly connected with antagonistic vengeful hating people with me as their prime and even absolute target, yet while all this is real and indeed happening; something else could be more of a hidden root cause, and be there all along, making this all indeed happen to me, and more than this if you can possibly fathom it, a force beyond any of these things spoken here so far, is and has been all along, using this wild and crazy scenario playing around all around me for six decades give or take; for its own powerful and extremely wicked agendas!

As some of my followers know already, my life as MWM the current human me in this atomic signature and point along the line of the fourth dimension, suffers in strange ways with never ending barrages of attacks from invisible magic people, that appear to be organized in some weird way; and despite all of this; mathematics seems to come into play, causing the major attacks and negatives in my life, to come in waves of cycles, back off periods and periods of extreme siege, yet without the normal slow movements from one stage to another. It is like the moon phases, only instead of it slowly growing larger and then slowly growing smaller over and over again, it would be gibbous or full for a week or so then new and blank in the sky other than maybe for a tiny line or crescent, for a week or so, and never would their be any larger crescent shapes or much larger gibbous shapes growing slowly smaller or larger. It is always one way or the other way, and then when it is time to be changed, bang, it just changes. So my life by no means, with no pun or pen intended, or hacking; reflects the phases of the moon and its general operation, but just the opposite. Now this ends the paste in part; so allow me to move right along, if you please.

Ever since the eighties, just as Colaman always wanted to control and manipulate gravity, I have had what could be considered my own obsession, ''TIME''. Why deny the truth, when any good psychiatrist reading my blogs can see all of this, totally blindfolded?

Yes sir, Mister David Leigh Smith, I found it very difficult to believe such an incredible reality back in the autumn of 1970. Mizz Zenkiss Blackboards were

merely part of a so much larger picture.

OCTOBER 9, 2014,

LATE THURSDAY AFTERNOON AT 4:44

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 83 DEGREES FNHT.

DAILY RANGE SO FAR (H-86/L-69)

HUMIDITY IS 65%, FEELS 88 DEGREES.

WHOOPDEEDIDDLEYDO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Screw Mizz Zenkiss in the autumn of 1970, well, she wanted to screw me along with all of the other horny student-teachers in that shithole, huh Bob McDowell; but yes, there is so much involved in how the past all leads us all into the present. Fuck the future, that remains endlessly the present with more past behind us, that is all the magical mirage called the FUTURE ever was, is, or can ever hope to be in its wildest dam dreams. Quantum Physicists are currently of the opinion, that the two ends, called future and past, are only there as they interact with an infinitely altering in-between point; but be real here; what point? How does this in-between point grow, and to what size, and where are the boundaries, or the relationships and ratios between these polar boundaries to the great inside-middle known in mathematics, as the average, and the parity, of the wholeness. You all remember seventh grade basic one level algebra, or you certainly should unless totally brain dead. You have a minus 10 on the left side of a number-line. You have a +10 or just 10 on the right side of this same number-line. Only as negative integer needs to be signed, positive values are assumed when unsigned with polarity. So gee whiz, what is the middle point of plus and minus 10? Could it be a big fat zero? Sure, but what is also inside of that middle-area? Well, anything greater than negative 10 and lesser than positive 10. So my simple point here, is that these in-between parity average points, can be a precise average in parity between polarity, or it can be all sorts of various areas inside this very wide window. This force that endlessly makes this area in-between any two points of mathematical separation, sometimes move into greater parity towards the average, verses other times moving towards either one of the two polarities, left-negative, or right-positive, is the endless mystery, and mathematicians all know there is a strange middle area force, but they do not know it has a programmed intelligence all its own, and is why so much is totally predictable, right down to the moves of enemies, friends, neighbors, stock prices, you name it, nothing is immune and nothing can escape the detection of this force, in simpler more child like terminology or words folks; there is nothing that cannot be mathematically plotted and graphed and charted, and formulated, in the word of highly advanced statistical technology, almost to where anyone can just about predict anything, of course to reach 99-99.99999999999999% omniscience, the program and the computer needed to run such a beast; would need to be perhaps with current technology, the size of a planet, and use a star for its power, and not a Hollywood star by any means. If I told what I knew and explained why I have been chocking to death for more than three decades from an unknown medical condition; as well as how all things that happened to me from that point, both behind it in the so-called past, as well as ahead of it, in the so-called future, I would be taken to Area Wright Patterson 51 or some other place, dissected, and thrown into a vat of concentrated acid, where I would melt away as if I never was here, and the joke of it all people, is that I never was. Then the bigger joke is, that neither were any of you. Still, only a total moron, can't see what my prick son in law somehow did to me on his birthday. What no one on this planet knows, is what I know, and am capable of doing when pressed to the wall. It has to do with being able to change the speed that time appears to flow in a small area, be it for example, a two to five hundred square foot room, rather than the normal 15-35 kilo-mile area. This ratio of say, a rounded off seven million to one, expressed as (7,000,000:1), sounds more like mega jackpot lottery odds, but has nothing to do with lotteries or money. When you take a song from a dream you have that does not exist here while you are awake, and you record it, even cheap, as it doesn't need be more than you singing it and strumming a guitar to its basic rhythm chords, or with a half ass keyboard you can buy on or off line for under a buck if you don't need lots of bells and whistles and great powerful sound; but if you make copies of copies or off of a master copy, or make CD copies off a computer file, wherever you keep your files that contain that song from a dream-world, can and will, in different ways, alter the flow speed of time in that part of your room, over the other pats of your room and the rest of your house. But back to that unknown force of middle-areas, as this all connects up. Naturally, I can only say a few Romper Room things, as you'd never get any of this, and even now, most likely are not getting any of this. I have been playing with this stuff all my life, and a lot more after moving into Robin Hill the first of three times, at unit number 1802. This effect definitely appears to be very cumulative, and has deadly side effects, totally as yet, unknown as of this universe's year of late 2014. Put simpler than this, I have done this over an dover and over with maybe as many as a dozen or more tunes over 35 years of time. Like nuclear radiation, with very long decaying half-life time periods, maybe if I let the grass grow a million years in-between songs or messing around with this technology, I could return to a normal way of life, and so could the people return to those nice lovely buildings they used to reside in before 1985 and Chernobyl, Russia. But as it stands right now, COUSIN; who never let me know what he figured out about me, and all of this, but rather, allowed me to reach lots of conclusions on my own; from here to his private Macy parties; now it is too late, not just for me, but the entire world, and if you don't believe me, then ask a world renown fucking author named Doctor Bruce Goldberg, who indeed has a doctorate degree, this is by no means an honorary degree. He is the author of the marvelous nineties book, titled, “Time Travelers From Our Future”!

Rotten stinking Jane Whore Waterwitchbitch Sleazeweedsdisease just got me, with PAGE ELEVEN OF ELEVEN, so I of course will need to now compensate! As I type this, a crash level airplane is going over the building, FAA, it is private. This will contribute to lots of pussy command by way of their tool they love to use so much, the ICPE-APE, applying parallel event intentionally, in order to secure a result, with an agenda. It's highly covert, someday will be illegal but very difficult to prove, and goes without saying, it is extremely deadly and dangerous, and monstrously evil and wicked and Satanic. Any kind of dirty fighting, is more than demonic and Satanic, it is cowardly, it is the cheaters way to accomplish what they want when they know there is no real way to do it correctly, and be a real hero. It is quintessential cowardice to say the very least, ladies and gentlemen. This attack took place at ten minutes shy of 6 PM., Federal Aviation Administration, (5:50).

Now peeps, this past two fucking weeks of beyond hell, was a lot more than just a monstrous 'Hitler-like' inhuman and monstrous attack, against another human being, made of mere pathetic weak flesh and blood!!!!!!!!!! Rather, this was the start of a new age in my life, AGAIN, perhaps, and only time can and will tell. This may lead to me wiping out humanity!!!!

POLLUTION COMMERICALS WITH MY VOICE ON THEM IN THE LATE 60'S, HIT SONGS LIKE UNDER THE BOARDWALK, GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK, BRAH! Well, break or no break, Kitkat or no Kitkat bars of quintessential yummyness, and hacked mouses all notwithstanding, Stacey Jack-hack-attack Lattisaw of 1982; please watch over me old friend from 10 years even earlier than this in Daniel Mackey's class at Wormhole Cooley Hall, as I am getting super DEATH SIEGE, AND THIS HAS GONE ON NOW, BOB MCDOWELL, AND PAM BONDI, FOR TWO ASTRAIGHT WEEKS, BEGINNING ON SATURDAY THE ELECTRICAL NUMBER IN SEPTEMBER (27), WHEN THE HELL ELSE?????????????????????????

LET ME COMPENSATE NOW FOR SHITJANE!!!!

55555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555

My last night's dreaming interactions, or hyperspace travel adventures as I classify them as; were again, quite major, powerful, and awesomely unique. Go ahead, keep fucking trying to hack off sentences and words and letters, you fuckiGN miserable dirt bag WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES FROM HELL, AKA DOGTOWN. Lightning and I went on a major bombing mission with my airship/truck, the Ricktown-1, and then returned to the neighboring property on the Astral plane from the Ricktown manor, called the Forests of Humelon, where my mom and my older daughter, both work in a campsite, belonging to my daughter, but in a form too complex to get int, as she does not go by Sarah Krassle, but Kahoutekeeshata. The last name is more difficult to deal with, so let me just ell the first name that she uses.

I need to lay a foundation, as this gets nuts as all hell. When back here in mortal waking life, I was moving into the Highview Apartments for my second and final stay there, on April 1, 1994; it was during my stay there, where a poor little eight year old girl named Meagan, was murdered ruthlessly by a sick dirt bag child molester, up in middle or northern New Jersey somewhere, an dis where to this day, we derive the Meagan's Law from. Shortly after her murder, she would visit with me in the Humelon forests, and this is a place on the Astral plane that is hundreds of quintillions of cubic miles in area, so don't go picturing your local woods, or even the great national parks of the USA, or anything else in this waking world Planet Earth, please good folks. This massive forest borders on one side, the property that Ricktown Manor is situated on, a structure you would not believe me if I told you about, as it is more than three fourths the area of Pennsylvania, and contains on average about ten stories. I told on early blogs as well as the 2007 website, the www.morianity-foundation.com/ that Ed Lynch put up on the net, a lot about all of this, and how lightning (Diana Arteemis) and her many many friends love to play hide and seek in this very large structure. It is one of the top 500 largest individual structures in the entire Province Olympia. WOW are they hacking me and this blog, FCC, Bob McDowell, old buddy from Cooley Wormhole Hall of 1972 in Dan Mackey's class!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but getting back to Meagan, she still did not learn not to trust strangers, even after her murder on th ephysical plane. I told how she has a club of about twenty friends, and how they use one of my several mailboxes, in a cleared area in this forest, where my mom and I have a small home in a small community of homes, for those who work in and around the camp owned by my daughter MY. To this day I try to tell her to remember not to repeat this behavior and not to be trusting of adult males, when she gets sleepy and falls into dreams throughout the vast and virtually limitless fifth dimensional hyperspace, but she smiles and giggles and waves me off, like she knows better than I do. No wonder she gets along real well with my daughter, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But in this wild Astral-Projection trance, I too got sleepy eventrually after lighting and I had a lot of fun of the X-rated type, and she is powerful and can wear out a thousand bulls if she wants to, the gods know I love her so. Still, I found myself waking into a universe where my doppelfganger of me was living very religiously; and I was walking with my wife and two sons, to a local town church. It seems I was able to gather before all was said and done, that I lived there in the mid-west America area, and had a modest home, a nice family, a tall gorgeous hot wife named Sue-Ann, and my last name was Huntington, which is basically our family name throughout most of human eternity, that and Stuart and Carpenter, but I am not here to raise Kane about all of this right now, nor am I able to do so. TEE HEE HEE 1313 Lilly Munster Andrews! When I arrived at the church which was three blocks from the home my family was living in, my two sons being Joshua and Timothy, both named biblically, and yes, I was MARK, as I am here in this parallel universe where I type this blog to you all right now, we all sat down and my wife joined me a moment or two after we had seated ourself in a middle area pew in the church, as she was speaking to a couple of her girlfriends from a church social club they all were part of, but after we seated, the service began very abruptly, and within a short space of time, the minister began acting very weird. Within five minutes, sweat was pouring off his forehead, he was rolling up his sleeves, and a few minutes after this, he began cursing like a mad man about how hot it was in the church, and he kept swearing horrendously. Women and children were filing out of the place, and still a couple minutes later, while he was still ranting and screaming and using worse profanity than my blogs on my worst days; the deacons and church officers had to bodily force him down to the ground area from where he had been preaching, and then they tied him to restrain him, to some kind of board that didn't look like a hospital gurney at all, and was makeshift, to deal with the unexpected nutty situation that arose out of nowhere. Then it was a week later and I was visiting him in the hospital, the county hospital that was about 50 miles out of town near the border to another state, I cannot pull up anything more about that. When I went into speak to my pastor, he immediately whispered in my ear, please Mark, ask your wife to go wait with your children, as I need to talk to you privately. He then said in a normal soft speaking voice, that he went crazy because I had somehow sent him all knowledge and that I was from a parallel universe and dreaming through the man he has known through high school, mark Huntington. I was not sure what to do, but I did the ultimate stupid thing, I suppose. I sat down, and I looked into his eye, after pulling the visitor chair right up to his bed where he lay staring at me almost in an emotional pain that could be felt by heartless sociopath types. He was indeed in extreme distress and emotional agony. I said to him, I am from a parallel universe, I live there as Mark Mohr, and my uncle's middle name is Huntington, and my grandmother was Grace Isabelle Huntington. I told him a little bit more about a few things, and then he looked at me and again beckoned for me to draw close, so he could whisper into my ear, and so I complied again. As soon as I did, he shouted into my ear as loudly as he could, “You asshole, the Blucran has been changed for you by your daughter, yet again, you bought your headphones at a different store with a warranty. I glared at him while stepping back in pain, my ear ringing and half deafened. Then nurses came running in asking what is going on, and boom, I was hearing the machine hooked up to the pastor making loud horrible sounds, while he began raucously laughing and slapping both of his exposed thighs so hard they were reddening. Then boom, I awoke to that shrill loud fire alarm going off just shy of fuckiGN eleven this morning. Again, this is called HSE or Hyperspace-Effect.

Folks, nobody but nobody, no rock star, no politician, no sports hero, no billionaire, nobody, is living MY WEIRD AND TOTALLY BIZARRE LIFE, I PROMISE YOU THAT, AT THE SPEED OF FUCKING LIGHT, SQUARED AND HYPER-SQUARED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Want bizarre without even leaving the body or altering the consciousness? Mikey called a couple days ago, like nothing happened. Well, I am no dummy, something did happen, and I am nobody';s fool, and will not ever call him again, after that stunt that bastard fuckiGN jerk off pulled on me, and this is not the first time. I've got enough, make that way fuckiGN cunt more than enough WEIRD in my life, and if friends are going to add to that mixture from hell, then I don't need them around me, and they are not my friends!!!!

Please watch over me old friend from 10 years even earlier than this in Daniel Mackey's class at Wormhole Cooley Hall, as I am getting super loud noise by neighbors since 5 and 6 this morning, and I am getting lots of computer hacking with this new worms in the mouse fucking crap as well, YO! This will only keep getting worse and worse, Microsucks Light-Bulb-HACKERS! This hacking is major, and it just started up five minutes ago about 5 minutes into this blog, Federal Bureau of investigation, and Federal Communications Commission, and Sheriff Ken Mascara, and Florida State Police, and Florida AG, Mizz Pam Bondi, MAHM!!!!!! I TOLD YOU GINA, I TOLD YOU GINA, I TOLD YOU GINA, I TOLD YOU, BUT NO ONE WILL LISTEN TO ME OR BELIEVE ME, PRESIDENT OBAMA, SIR!!!!!! My blood is on a lot of unclean hands!

These mother fucking jerk off MILI-2-FAWCE SCUM SUCKING TOILET WATER DRINKERS woke me up with a sore throat, which happens very frequently during these periods of major fucking cock sucking CHEMTRAIL ASSAULTS UPON ME!!!!! If it is not chemtrails, it is planes dive buzzing me, and if it is not monster fuckiGN sore throats, it is major sudden bursting tachycardia and other heart arrhythmia's. They struck my heart with a death beam as I was doing the previous paragraph, oh great and powerful and mighty marvelous American Civil Liberties fucking Union!

SSSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOO Mister Crane, does anything change really, for me, or merely rearrange, as I have said all along, even in my fucking song in 1981 or 1982, on the same music project I told you in a recent previous blog that I sent to the U.S. © Office?????????? Let me prove my point, from a paste-in from somewhere in the early springtime of this year. I cannot say I bring tidings, but Good Will, well Patty Hollister and your mover friend, whoever you really are, both of you, read this paste in, with a strong heart, and lots of Caveat Emptor, and other Latin flowers and Callio's and call tens, huh American Telephone and Telegraph?????????? WHAAAAAA!

Now here is the huge shit. I fell asleep last night watching that wild VHS-videotape from the Good-Will store, the one that I purchased as a blank and was not a blank. I told you how these people from Oyster Creek, New York; were making this video tape, on an earlier previous blog. I feel totally confident, from hearing what I did, and seeing some of the background; that this was my cousin Christine Myers' grandson, and his wife, and their young son, and daughter. After a lot of stuff, the tape reverted to what had been previously recorded onto it, a movie. Hence they had used a section of the beginning of the videotape, to record over to make this documentary. Then came the movie, with normal news from Channel-4 New York, that would cut in during commercial breaks as well as several scrawl lines during the movie that took place during World War 2, which these fucked up Microsucks programs don't let you print correctly as we were taught to in my school days, with two capital (W) letters followed by two vertical one lines, try it on a word or office program, and it insists on not doing it the right way, this fucking world has gone totally nuts in a very short fucking space of time, but let me not get away from this major fucking shit, good people. This movie is called, “The Two Misses Grenvilles” or some similar name. The big news item of the day was the longest that two people so far, had been married, a deep late season snowfall that was coming to the area, and on top of this, this movie had a part in it that was off the scale major. This dude was telling his wife who he seemed to have difficulty with due to snooty family stuff that was even a more prevalent item back in those war days than it is today; and he was talking about Sinko Damayo only not calling it that, merely saying that 'May the fifth of 1955' is, and I quote him, ''5-5-5-5''. Get the movie if you don't believe me. Channel 4 New York City was airing it sometime in the early spring time in 1987, according to this videotape from my cousin Christine's offspring, the dog-walker; and wow do the offspring have noisy dogs. I woke up to more than one thing after falling asleep watching this video fucking tape, peeps. We had a brand new noisy dog in the apartment either across from me or down the hall by one across from Stanley's crib; but there is so much more to tell than this junk, then in April and now in October, Saint NICK! No snow guys, I hate driving at all, but in snow, forget it, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have now been invited to joint the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY. THEY CAME TO ME IN MY DREAMS LAST NIGHT, and asked me if I wanted to join them. It seems that they are a magic group of many people who are trying to form several almost sixties-hippie type of 'governing bodies' you know, commune style, and they practiced 'real magic', not witchcraft of fake trick magic, to quote them. They had the power of Tallos 4 like in the original STAR TREK. Music was beyond a major part of their operation, and they explained that logic and my current thinking process would not allow me to be able to be shown just how it all connects and is so important to them, but that it just does and is, and for now I needed to merely accept this as total truth. A man then got up in this rectangular room that a lot of us were in and did a magic trick. I was the only one who could see clearly what was behind the trick, sort of like what is behind the famous OZ CURTAINS. Some lovely young blond girl was doing these things plain as day, but not one other person could see her. After all of this was done and the invite to join was made, I told them I would think it over, and then they said I needed to meet, and I quote, ''The ladies''. It seems that two very wild women of about mid thirtyish age, were either in charge of this local chapter of the ESS that I was with, or over all of them, but they were revered and most told me that they were very afraid to ever displease either of them for any reason. Loyalty was very important, and once committed, a treasonous act against them would be like the unpardonable sin in normal worldly circles, and would have beyond dire consequences. A sign hung over a bed in this room, where other beds, and dozens of musical instrument amplifiers; were scattered all over the place; and it read, “THERE IS NO REASON FOR TREASON”. It is absolutely unforgivable, and always extremely punishable, and to quote a dude there when I pointed to the sign in his presence, he went onto say to me, “far beyond ordinary human concepts of death and hell”. I was quite effected by his words, yet wanted to meet these ''ladies''. So they took me to an open field and said they had to leave or else they would not come and speak with me. In no time, they were there. They had numerous face masks. They came as ugly story book type witches, real scary and ugly appearing, and then they took off the masks and were very attractive. Then they kept taking more and more disguises off, and I stood there watching their appearances alter over and over, and when they were all done, the very last mask and look of these two ladies, were exactly where they started. They proceeded to also ask me after this had all happened, ''Do you want to join us now'', and I again repeated what I had said earlier, ''Let me think about it''. Then I was ''dream-shifted'' back into where I was watching the early part of that VHS tape that I fell asleep later to during that long movie that was obviously recorded over at the beginning, by my distant cousins up on long Island, Woody Guthrie, sir. Then I realized I had taken off my headphones and placed them beside me. I was awake and got up to piss and take some water. Suddenly I thought somehow the noisy dogs in that house had been magically transported into my apartment here, but realized, even though it was still dark and just past 6, this was all going on out beyond my door.

As to whether or not I will intentionally go back to these ESS peeps and join, this is a major decision. I feel my kid is behind all of this, and I know that she has a lot of powerful friends who have all done a lot of wild stuff to me now over decades of time. Even the Islander Cifaloglio's had their turn in a lot of this, the Darius Deezee thing, the magazine left for me to find thing, and on and on I could go, with or without Pedigree Loud Dog Food. Yes the wife of Delmo was an islander, and not a hockey player or a Roseann Delaney neck biter.

I DEMAND MY PROPS FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHOOPS, ROLLER COASTER PROPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MILE HIGH WILDWOOD TABLET PRESS PROPS!!!!

JANE WHORE FONDA STRUCK ME AGAIN WITH PAGE ELEVEN OF CUNT CHEWING FUCKING ELEVEN, PEEPS, YO!!!!!!!!!!! YES PEEPS, DOES ANYTHING EVER REALLY CHANGE WHEN YOU ARE THE CURSED AND CHOSEN HUNTINGTON??????? That's my short and sweet, simple and innocent whittle point for the bwogs of today; my kind peeps, YO!!!!!!!!!! AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA MCNULTY-1971!

I said it before, and I'll say it again and again, even if lovely Twinbay hates me for it, good people; and you all may totally quote me;

“Oh boy, life stinks”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.

© MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2014

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