FUCK THE ESS, CHAPTER 7

FUCK THE ESS, CHAPTER 7

This won't be a long blog. It will tell a few things real short and dam sweet. The enemies gave me a nasty health attack on Sunday afternoon, with bowels, turning my already literally shitty day into a literally fucking shittier day.

They are going to pay with this short but powerful revenge blog. It is twenty-two minutes past fucking one on Monday morning, nine February, 2015. Congressman old buddy from 1975, it has been brought to my attention by some cool dude who goes by a wild name in a parallel universe, Ethan Ballaterra, of course I am spelling it the way it sounds only. He was telling me that I will get more and more wrecked and brutalized, the more secrets I tell, because this is behind a lot of what Scott Ransom and his little speech to me in 1988, was all about. Well, it is nice to know where the nerves and funny bones are, as I will just kick all that much harder, right in those nasty mother fucking places. I have nothing to lose, as my entire life has been completely fucking obliterated by this scum bag stinking twisted disease from the other side of the dam gates of hell.

Saturday around mid day, the fucking jerk off Milituforce tried to attack my video again. There were two attacks and I saw it happen live. The reason it stopped is because my friends at the FCC were triangulating the signal source illegally bouncing into here from a nearby remote source. What none of you buttwipes seem to know, and I don't mean youth peeps of 35 and under, but those say a wee bit on the south side of that number, is that cellphone towers were up a full thirty years or almost, before cellphones were used by us ordinary people. When I talk about death attacks and health attacks and death beams, just about anyone reading immediately thinks, 'whack job', 'crazy person', 'tinfoil hatter', and along these lines. Fine, but explain why these cell towers were all up in the early eighties. When cellphones came into being in the last few years of the past century, no changes were made to any of these structures. They were there, ALL ALONG!

Why do I appear to despise the mother fucking entertainment industry so much, many scratch heads and wonder? Do you really want me to someday spell it out, theft by theft, clever little steal one after another? If I ever went past just telling the details of Lenny McKinnon and the ''Lost Love'' song in the summer time of 1980, we'd be all cunt huffing night and day and I still wouldn't have it all told. But keep hurting me you rotten scum bastard toilet lickers, and oh yes, I will make this detailed list, and post it up, ''CONGRESSMAN''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My best to Angel.

Why do memories stay and fade away? We seem to keep some and lose others. None of us have clear detailed memories like a tape recorder, going back day after day, year after year, yet many major eras in time are clearly held in memories ODF even those who don't have particularly great life recall. This is not old age and diseased minds anywhere near as much as it is reality changing around us. The biggest argument for this is that people say to me when I discuss this with them, come on asshole Mark, the newspapers don't change, the buildings don't change, my wife is still my wife, my kid still failed his algebra class this year, and so on. Well I hate to break this powerful fuckiGN shit to the world, but what you see as green, the next person may not. But because they both can identify with seeing that same 'reference to green', it appears not to ever change, yet even this can. You don't think events are being reshaped or news is changing, but I could wipe out this world's fucking sanity if I told you all right now how to conduct a simple little experiment that would absolutely prove that I am telling you the truth. Just because you may not fully understand this, I am handing you all a powerful mother fucking deadly dangerous truth; friends. Oh yes, I was wrong about McGuire day. It was not the 19^th anniversary, it was the 18^th anniversary, back on the seventh. But why do our minds hack out like this? Is it really just happenstance and accident and in my case early senility and old age? Well, the DSM-5 would tell you quite emphatically, YES. But I will tell you, NO, only who gives a dam shit what Mark Wayne Mohr ways??????????

When I left McGuire's bar around shortly past two on the afternoon of 7 February in 1997, I had forgotten the name CALLIO that Sarah had given me over his pay telephone. It was hopelessly irretrievable until sometime a couple months later, while speaking on the telephone to Estelle Andersen Bassler of Ormund Beach, Florida, and when I said names like Calico or Callahan, and a few other near similar sounding ones, she said to me, and I will quote her from middle 1997, “Well, there was a Callio, he was a policeman”. Now in and of itself, this is not all that important in the grand scheme of my life. But then came October of 2006, the day Ed Lynch and I went to Atlantic City to take some photos for my new website at the time, the Morianity-Foundation, and we went to Tennessee Avenue. When we developed the film, there was McGuire, right at the passenger side of the car, right in Ed's face, clear as a fuckiGN bell. Neither Ed nor myself have one tiny bit of recall or mental recognition of this happening. There is no way that we would not have seen a large menacing dangerous fucking old Irish dude approaching the vehicle and coming right up to it and into our face. We did see it, and more, and then when he was done with us, he erased our memory of the event. This same thing happened on a home on a dam highway where a lot of naked people all were, near the Tacony Palmyra Bridge, in Philadelphia, back in 1984. Not all that long ago, some local person who knows quite a bit about my life, stopped me and asked me how ESS can be measured, and in the case of this story, how can this incredible outlandish lab technician be a fourteen year old girl, and yet have done that stuff in the eighties as a fully grown woman? They went onto remind me that just as with the I-CHING, a host body is always needed, and it is soul that travels in a dream-travel-event, just as in Dark Shadows plots throughout the second half of that marvelous television show. Well, this person is totally correct, but I do not have enough time right now, to detail just how this wild maneuver was all pulled off, or if a pun is permitted me, carried out. Still, ask Donald Trump, the one son of a bitch who knows for a fact, that indeed, this was done. It is complicated, but it can be explained, just as cell towers all being right there all along, yet none of you out here question a dam thing. Sometimes I seriously doubt that even conspiracy theory types ever really sit back and ponder on so many things that are right there in fucking plain view. That is always the very best place for things to be hidden, my peeps, right there in plain view. Ask any good cop or detective, or for that matter, ask any good fucking outlaw fugitive and criminal. Of course, they might lie to you, as criminals love to lie. Here comes th emother fucking (`~HACK), Bob FCC McDowell, at five shy of two AM. Boy, I was living real nice an dmother fuckign well without all these hacks. Whatever you guys in th eFCC were doing, it sure worked for a little while. Same thing with the POPE. His prayers seemed to stop Morty jerk-off Mortino for a couple of weeks, but WOW he came back with a cunt chewing fucking vengeance a week ago, and shit is right back to the rotten negative status quo. Maybe, Your Holiness, this is shy the BIBLE says to “PRAY WITHOUT STOPPING”.

Yes, very early in 1996, Doctor Mark Wolf of Moorestown, hypnotized me. The very first thing out of my mouth when I heard the session tape, was about the Speedship Sunram, and Atlantic City. I had put all of this out of my head, or so I had thought. But some of it was not put out, it was BLOTTED OUT, by other hypnosis. I have been taken to that COMCAST-ESS-MUSICROOM upon numerous occasions, so it seems; and just as with just about all who claim they have suffered 'alien-abductions', it is an ongoing and repetitive process, IE it doesn't happen just once. Just as we get recurring 'dreams', we also get recurring non-dreams, that normal people cannot as of yet, outside of Morianity and its teachings; even really begin to rationally explain. Why have I mentioned Ingrid so many times, and just how did she get onto my telephone? What really was going on in 1980, 1983, 1984, and 1986? What does anybody REALLY know about anything? To quote a fantastic philosopher I knew and was proud to call a pal, back in 1969, Mister Sigmund Malyeska; “You don't KNOW nothing”! And here comes Morty Mortino, ------------AGAIN!!!!!!!--------

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.