Just so you know, Attorney General Bondi, the reason the second I go onto my machine, I hear weird sounds next door, is because they are pirating my WIFI signal, and when they get kicked off their online whatever, it automatically is set to go back to a videogame system that makes the exact same sound. It is every time without exception, it should be illegal, and the reason I know it is because I souk-traveled over to there a short while ago and roamed around with my astral-body. Now granted, you do not always know for sure if you are maintaining a near similar localized hyperspace universe, but what I saw jives up with what I hear every single time I so much as click a mouse and tap one key and activate my weather-bug app in the system, that kicks the bastard off his illegal system.

Now to discuss somewhat more extensively, cousins and friends of the family, of great and mysterious washcloths, telepathically controlled dream trips, and so much more; I will begin by saying, something that happened to me in 1968 while making a solo trip up to visit my Aunt Ruth Huntington Gottwald, makes a lot more sense to me recently. I was coming back from the island and was in NYC, on my way to make a connection by bus, straight to Camden, New Jersey, when I ran into a girl gang, about my age or maybe a year or two older, made up of some real goddesses. One of them said something to me when I was trying to purchase a bus ticket, that I will not repeat right now, but I never forgot it, or that wild day, because I spent too much money, and was not going to be able to further than Camden, and needed to go to Westmont, another five miles or so to the east, where I lived at 125-A Haddon Hills Apartments. I will only say that this three sentence communication from this gorgeous hot black chick to me, was not at all distanced from what was spoken to me on the beach by that young couple regarding them appearing to be onto my time schedule, and then commenting on it. For right now, I will tell you that I did answer this tall beauty queen back, and that is when she said something so mind blowing, I would not feel safe right now, blogging it in lieu of recent major cat-bag letting on several wild things. They lived on one hundred twenty ninth Street, and what they said to me involved time manipulation, and way more than just the family of my daughter. While one of them was speaking to me, another was repeating for me to hear it, and I know this as sure as I sit here right now, to the third girl in this group-gang, as their were three total, “You witch, you witch, you witch”. The girl who this was being said to kept saying she was going to beat the dam stew out of the one saying it, and this kept on going and getting a bit louder, while the other girl was speaking directly to me about time and schedules and then made a vicious remark that I am not going to discuss. But in 1996 in th eautumn, I met a very evil woman who resided in Glendora, New Jersey, sort of a word combination of two witches in the great famous Wizard of Oz movie, Cora and Glinda. You witch when pronounced was the last name of this woman whose first name was Paula, Paula Uwich. She is the one who told me without even knowing me, out of the blue, that the Braxton sisters, and Toni the singer in particular, was in with Sarah. I went to this Paula Uwich because she said that she was able to find Sarah for me, back during my frantic search for her began that year, following my hypnotherapy, that brought all of this horrible freaking garbage back to me, from the land of THINGS BETTER LEFT FORGOTTEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't know these wicked Braxton's, nor do I care to, but I came to learn later on, following wild dreams, such as the one on June 21, 2008, and so many others; but she insisted, Paula Uwich that is; that she was all connected to it. I laughed as it made no sense. But a couple years in the future while living at Guthrie Short's mansion, at 231 Route 73, in Blue Anchor, New Jersey; my caller ID showed 'BRAXTON' each time some black dude called me and acted really weird and reef-whacked, and I could hear female voices off in the distance. Extensive research showed many things after the nineties ended, as I began doing some leg work. Also, in 1997, while still at the Somerdale death house, while out at the Pure City Recording Studio, in Philadelphia, nine or ten months before I met Sir PP, and was trying to get the song that I wrote recorded, 'SARAH', I was put through hell beyond anything anyone could start to freaking imagine. I had written this back at the Highview Apartments on May 12, 1996, about four months before purchasing that nightmare Somerdale home where Sinatra's dirt bag fan club president, Mike Stozny Snotsy, persecuted me day and night, forcing me to sell the home at a $30,000.00 loss, and leading me, between that, and PP and his garbage country music venture, into bankruptcy court. But while at that studio one day, I left and was at the elevator to go down to the street level of the building, and when the elevator came, a doppelganger of Paula Giant King was there. Why was she there? What possible reason did she have for being there, just a short time after the second rape where maintenance man Sam saw her enter my apartment, only I have zero memory of her doing it. This is how she later miscarried PEE! She got David Gardner and that Robinson guy who was the lawyer partner, turned against me, and it was a total nightmare. This was all just a couple months after Paula Uwich began taking great sums of money from me in return for delivering Sarah to me. I won't say she did not do this, in fact, I doubt that forty grand was ever spent in history, to show anyone exactly where God was hiding in carnal form. The money was cheap when you take a Twinbay freaking attitude about it. But during all these incredible things, there was a day while I was on the telephone and speaking with Paula, and suddenly she fell dead asleep and there was snoring on the other end of the line. A similar event happened in late 1988 out near Taylor Cottage in Exton, Pennsylvania. I was speaking directly with a man named Ray Young, and suddenly he was sound asleep. For a long time I believed some force was doing this until I came to wonder if maybe I had some strange ability to hypnotize people. This is when one day while in a business meeting at Invent-Help at their Cherry Hill Office, I decided to try and play around with this, and before I knew it, the salesman had totally admitted to me that it was all a farce, and no one ever was made to profit by this company. It was just a big scam, despite current day boxer Foreman getting behind 'his buddies' there. Not long ago, I ran into someone locally here that caused a lot of trouble for me ever since. This person told me that I had the same ability McGuire has, and that my daughter has. She also told me my daughter hypnotized me that day at that house, after I had given her a lift from the throat specialist's office back to this house, at her request. There is a lot more to all of this and this is a mere surface crust of a very deep well, people. Whenever I am near any of these people, I have to picture something along the lines of the Three Stooges smacking each other and hearing those goofy noise sound effects, or a room where they and a party of 100 other people all are throwing pies at each other. This for whatever reason, short circuits the ability of these Washcloth Telepathic Travelers. This person also told me that puns are powerful with them, for reasons that would take a million Einstein minds to properly understand. When I asked what was meant by this, I got the answer, “You know, like 1986 and Nick At Night, and along those lines” That's a quote. I tried pumping a little further, and just got a smirky smile. I couldn't help but to think of ADA Ron Wirtz back early in the nineties, when he told me how he was getting smiley-face responses, when attempting to communicate with 'OTAMM'.

I have nothing but hatred for all of these monsters from hell. I am stuck forever with SSJK, and I won't lie and say I don't love her to death out in her great city of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, but here on Earth right now, I am so angry with her and her games, I could eat a ton of fucking elephant shit, ''and like it'', Maxwell Smartboom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So having some really nutty off the wall shit in your head seems to protect people, from their shenanigans and hooligans. Also, I now know exactly how to say some things, and how to move my voice in just the right way, and I too am able to do what they can do. I am just wondering if David Smith and Richard Marcucci are ever going to give me an A+++++ for all of this lifelong hell, after the spiritual destruction of Haddonfield, New Jersey, and my coming to reside on the great farm out beyond it, AKA Robin Tweet-Tweet Hill of Voorhees? Also I wonder, if a big ass W-O-W is in order right about now, Bob McDowell and Johnny Fucker-Faster, and Sir Andrews Whatever? McGuire may not have changed his name as so many have done in this group, but he traces to those who have such connections. He is always angry at everybody, and the reason for that anger is not bloggable. I have come to know a little bit of this, and what little I know is not safe to rat out and tell, Charlie Harmer Boardwalk Holmes, and all secret agents in all dimensions.

Howard Solomon, Bob McGuire, Heinz Gottwald, and one other person that is a P4E, all share a grumpy personality, and since all dots connect, it took awhile, but I managed to eventually figure out just why. It is the reverse effect of those mentally challenged. Ever notice those type of persons usually are happy all the time? The reverse is that if you know too much concerning some things, the reverse of extra happy becomes extra miserable and grumpy. We would have to take years to get into PHASE-4-ENTITIES for this to really make some sense to you out here. Still, I feel the need to blog it all, with limits for safety.

Don't even fucking think about trying to fuck me again, Jane Whore. You have been a real thorn in my asshole long enough, monster slapper. Let me hop a bus now and get away from these three dam girls!

THE FUCKING DIRT BAG WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES OF BOXER HALL JEFFERSON STREET IN 1981, ARE A GIGANTIC PAIN IN MY ROYAL FUCKING ARSE, DAD, NOT DEAD, TYPO, NOT TYPE. MIND HACKS, NACHINE HACKS, WHAT NEXT, CHINESE WATER COOLERS AND SUSPICIOUS FIRES ALL OVER????????

There is more power in Atlantic City ten times over, then the entire middle east. The power is not in the oil, either. The conflict over there was ongoing long before human kind knew what oil was or ever so much as conceived of extracting any of it. The power is where the Almighty plans to set up shop, literally, Misses Estelle Bassler Enron!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't go getting the idea that she tells me any secrets. I am stuck in the “You better obey me or else'' mode, with this giant super teen queen. But I do know a lot more than any of you, and IPYT (I PROMISE YOU THAT)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SSJKK is an almighty teen goddess, but she and I go back quite a ways, as we live together in eternity. Her parents, Mariena Carlittia Krassle and Neptunejupiter Japtarama Cavelantisocleevious Krassle do not own the great city of SDK. The Astral Plank Realm runs very politically, even more so than Earth world politics. The system of rule is the Millionth-Council and they declared a Scylla-Inheritance Law. A SCYLLA is a FIRST DAUGHTER, and this is what SSJKK is. By the law of the PLANK RULE, she owns two thirds of the great city, numerous duodecillion's of glory's, and glory's are a measurement of Astral-Wealth just as in Ricktown out in the purgatory, wealth is measured in towers. No mortal can imagine the great city of SDK, or for that matter, the great SARAH KRASSLE. I will always love her beyond words, and will always play her fave games with her, kites, tag, GTNOTG, and so many others. She sings beautiful songs to me and entertains her entire beyond fathomable city of SDK. You all think she can sing here in this waking world. Try multiplying that by millions, and get ready to lose your sanity forever. No one is supposed to have this kind of consciousness recollection of any of this.

FEBRUARY 10, 2015,

TUESDAY MORNING AT 2:05

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 62 DEGREES FNHT.

Vacations

Photo 1 of 180

Valarie Farrow, 7/25/2013

Near Seattle, WA

Majestic and breathtaking view of Mount Rainier!

Yes my ''pal'' Seabottom; we could say that it is time to get the dynamite out, and blast through the mountain. Only I have learned to take the easier ways through stuff, my ex-pal.

Now I just smile and say:

On top of old smokey, all covered with snow

I'll find my Aunt Gerry, and this you can know

Those dreams that were awesome

Just as awesome can be

Like Uwich and Braxton

And red head Elley

Should I be a skiing

And it all crashes down

I'll wake up and giggle

As the bombs go through town

Then on mister Smiths blackboard

We can all keep in mind

As the years all race onward

His wise treasures we'll find

And then there's Marcucci

and old Irish O'Neil

And his friend Miss America

Just to keep things so real/e!

So in keeping with endless dedications to all bathroom stalls everywhere, as well as world famous resort cities; I'll also add this in.

HERE I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. THE SIXTIES WERE GREAT BUT NOW IT'S TOO LATE. SO DO NOT SIT THERE BROKEN HEARTED, COME AND SHIT, DON'T SAY YOU FARTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THIS PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.

FUCK THE ESS, CHAPTER 8

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ROTTEN 'JANE WITCH/BITCH', IS ON A ROLL FOR NAILING MY BIG FAT WORTHLESS ASS!

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Ed Lynch told me he doesn't dream. Actually nobody is dreamless, this just means that hyperspace memories are not able to surface to consciousness; and for those in that situation, joining the ESS is a total impossibility. Ed used to tell me, "I'm lucky, they can't get at me, the way they do you". That's a quote, and from an 'atheist'. I wonder if anyone is as true blue atheist as they claim, especially in those dark quiet moments of solitude, and when they get a real nasty pain in the heart or almost choke on a mama-cass ham sandwich. You get my drift! I know you do.

Sarah Callio has no magic cat, by any name. Still, I do miss Midge, Ann's wonderful dog. Yeah right, Ann's dog. MY open reel machine left out with the big audio monitors, on Eighth Street, in Pine Hill, New Jersey, in the late summer time or early into autumn, of 2000. Mister Gutherman, are you annoying my daughter, or just having your taxes prepared by expensive experts????????????????????

Well, it is well past my bedtime, and I need to shuffle off to Buffalo; ladies and gentlemen.

City Skylines

Photo 2 of 373

Jay Falkenstein, 7/1/2013

Fort Erie, Ontario

The Buffalo skyline at sunset.

SOMEDAY, IF IT TAKES ME A MILLION YEARS, BOB PATTERSON; I WILL FIGURE OUT THE ALMIGHTY!

NIGHTY NIGHT, LADS AND LASSIES OF HYPERSPACE.

MAY I WISH MYSELF A LOT OF LUCK ON THAT ONE, NEW KIDS, OLD KIDS, WILD KIDS, AND ALL KIDS, HUH KIM WILDE?

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 the memories of 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 still 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 says??????????

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 in 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 and 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 the mother fucking (`~HACK), Bob FCC McDowell, at five shy of two AM. Boy, I was living real nice and mother fuckiGN well without all these hacks. Whatever you guys in the FCC 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 why 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.

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FOR TWO STRAIGHT WEEKENDS, MY NABES FROM HELL ARE LOUD AND ANNOYING. THIS IS ALL TO KEEP THAT DIRT BAG CROOKED STOCK MARKET GOING ENDLESSLY UP TO NEW ALL TIME RECORD MOTHER FUCKING HIGHS, AND IS NOT RIGHT, WORLD FUCKING COURT AT THE HAGUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Reprinted on orders of PEE, on June 25

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0065

5:55 PM, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 2011

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

Yes PEE, I will always love my very favorite daughter. You were with me last night, along with Diana; both as lightning and as my big lovely blond. WOW was that beyond cool or what???

Mother of great GODD-ESS, AKA Mariloo, has this been a mother fucking bad month, and really, another bad mother fucking putrid rotten wicked demonic year. Good old 2015, another mother fucking RED LETTER YEAR, GODDESS DAM IT YO! Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other. Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other. Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other. Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other. Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other. Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other. Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other. Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other. Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other. Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other. Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other. Well, another super mother fucking BOTBAR day struck me hard. Every mother fucking day is super BOTBAR, one fucking way or the other!!!!!!!!!!!

Holy fucking piss-water, this really does suck a big hard one. I try so hard, and everybody just wants to kick my twat chewing fuckiGN ass apart for sixty milf slobbering years, and what I need to know, is simply goddess dam fucking WHY. WHY WHY WHY JIMMY---'84????????????????????????????

MI Apology Song, with the MI spelled MI, and Actually, it was spelled 'MY' in 1986; but I am a lot more dam ass interested in the powers of transdimensional Cifaloglio; since all of my becoming aware of shit long forgotten, and into the realms of yesteryear; all happened right there, along with another good girl, with her own gravestone, by the name of BUM. And just twenty yards away from that gravestone was where transdimensional Darius Evans picked me up by my throat and said to me, “You never really like me”. When I used to enter into cemeteries in 1986, before this all got beyond nightmarish; I would scream at the dad and say to them how lucky they all were. Suddenly it was as though they had taken some kind of curse and laid it on me, as right after this by a couple of months, in middle August, my life altered suddenly and never to this day ever came back to where it was before this, and not even fucking close. But all of this was still a couple of years past the time I gave my lab tech daughter, a ride from Grant Avenue, down Interstate-95, and to that wild strange home that I have not even begun, lovely Karen, to get into on these blogs. First, it was only a couple days ago when it all came totally 100% back to me. I was watching TWC and boom, it hit me like a ton of loose goose gases. And it ain't much prettier than a ton of them either. But that gravestone over at Cifaloglio is there to this day, and anyone can go and see it. Just call and ask Delmo Cifaloglio for permission to make an appointment to do it and then snap a photo and post it onto your blog or twitter account or whatever people all are doing in this crazy new age mother fuckiGN world. I would die to find out just would would happen if folks all started to do this in any large number. Maybe my hell would come to an end. Maybe the world would blow right out of its orbit. Maybe the possibilities are along the EBM-Syndrome (Elizabeth Bewitched Montgomery)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

'MY'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is what was spoken on the “REAL GOOD GIRL” open reel master tape in August of 1986 when it was done by me in Cherry Hill,in New Jersey, when I recorded the fucking stupid ass song THAT HAS FOREVER MOTHER FUCKING ALTERED MY LIFE AND PLUMMETED IT INTO absolute total darkness and hell fucking fire. To this day, no one can dispute or disprove all of this. It is right there in the Copyright Office files, number what else on my music project performing arts registration number-----11.

Public Catalog

Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

[ 11 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Real good girl.

PAu000881543

1986

This led to all of my hell in the coming years, and all my covert death persecution, by what the AAT folks might describe as, the ancient visiting astronauts, who created our civilization long ago; from which we today are the descendants of.

[ 20 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.	PAu001148157	1988
[ 21 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Epitamy of harassement [sic] : pt. 3.	PAu001189027	1989

I am mailing my letter of complaint to my congressman tomorrow after work at the harvest where you can all see my ugly fucking puss on the website, just click into fucking http://www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ and fucking see me and pray for me. Pray that that evil mother fucking LUCIFER stops fucking up my entire life, HIM and that entire fucking family that he recently married into, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IF YOU SAY, ''AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA'' to me, Mike McNulty; get ready to run for your miserable cunt huffing life, you twisted sick bastard from 1971, YO!!!!!!!!

I just refused to ever totally fucking admit it all to myself, the old VENKA STRONG-GIRL SYNDROME, REMEMBER PEEPS? I have used (VSGS) for a shortened abbreviation on many prior fucking ass blog texts when discussing this fucking slut back in 1970 around middle March somewhere, in the art-room in my school in Haddonfield, New Jersey, USAESMWG!!!! Holy SHEEEEEEEEIT world; Paula, Sarah, Nina, Sandy, and the Shaw of Iran, mixed with my good old fucking Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason; and you have truly got yourself, one big hyper-time motley mother fucking crew, at C-SQ!!!

If anyone on Planet Earth knows and has the fucking ability to verify my true story, ALL OF IT, it is the mother fucking UNITED STATES FREAKING COPYRIGHT OFFICE DOWN IN WASHINGTON, FREAKING, DISTRICT OF FREAKING COLUMBIA, BRO!!!!!!!!

THERE IS NO WAY THAT TOM REALE, BACK IN JULY OF 1970, WOULD HAVE BEEN THAT UPSET ON THAT NIGHT OF THE FIREWORKS; IF HE HAD NOT BEEN A PART OF WHAT HAPPENED TO ME THE YEAR BEFORE THAT; AND WAS NOT ALSO A MEMBER OF THE ''GAP-ESS'' GREAT AND POWERFUL EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY!

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AFTER MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3

FUCK THE ESS

CHAPTER 6

FEBRUARY 8, 2015,

SUNDAY AFTERNOON AT 2:06,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE, 73 DEGREES FNHT.

HUMIDITY IS 55%, IT FEELS LIKE 77 DEGREES.

RANGE ON THE DAY, (H-73/L-47)

WINDS ARE ESE AT 13, WITH SMALL GUSTS TO 14

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The world is an amazing place.

GODDESS DIANA, MY LOVELY LIGHTNING.

I LOVE YOU BEAUTIFUL KATHARINE; WOW WHAT A GREAT FISH YOU ARE!

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On Blogger since January 2006!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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The time was back in 1984, and things all started after Donald J. Trump opened up his first casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey; the Trump Plaza Hotel. Did you really think the story was just that simple, John Red Henning Son???????????????????????????????????

This ended the thanksgiving dinners and get together forever and caused lots of fights, since the super-girl Aunt Jefferson Geraldine 'dream' happened, where so many 'dreams' also happened, at the great powerful Somerdale death house on Harvard Avenue at the intersection of Yale and Harvard, at number 112.

The holy grail of proper wisdom accumulation, I have learned personally through the school of very hard knocks and bangs, is as follows. All other advice obn this is fine but bland. The real shit is this, folks: Have the balls to accept anything that fits the story. You cannot make up anything. Mister Smith's blackboard I will admit, did not exactly teach that, but it did teach, whether he was ever truly aware of it or not, a side band reality to this. He basically was saying that things that seem ridiculous or impossible can really happen, and that if the shit around me shows it to be real, then it is real no matter what ''should be'' in anyone's opinion. Who'd ever believe that Mizz Zenkiss at school would say such an amazing thing to Mister Smith, about me, that day. But people, this goddess did say it, and she wanted me so bad it stunk in reverse mode.

All I am trying to get across here is that there is a group of people who all decided long before they were oin physical form, in the same manner that GOD decided to die obn a cross and do that entire salvation thing, and it is all real, but it is still SSJK's great game, but my point, is that Lambrigg Cultists all decided to do something as well. One has little to do with the other, but that is for right now, neither here nor there. BUTT, this is why so many name recognized people are all a part of my past, and to be quite blunt, present as well. I won't even attempt to say the 'F' word, let's stick with present or past for now, as this gets hairier than anything the great Donna could ever have pulled off back in the sixties!!!!!

People, I could go on an don with this, and will later on, but for now, it is more than sufficient to just pretend it's the middle seventies again, and although times for me are far from happy, allow me please Uncle 175 Peninsula Nebuchadnezzar Babylon New York, to take my whittle non type shittle camera, snap it the best as I am able without your ugly mean nasty train hurl stories of my father, and just leaving stuff for later on, simply say here and now, What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? Or for that matter folks, Darius Cifaloglio Magazine and Tape tricks Evans????

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The time was back in 1984, and things all started after Donald J. Trump opened up his first casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey; the Trump Plaza Hotel. Still, Alex Jones says it best and I could never hold a candle flame up to his sun on my best freaking day, the NSA CULT, which is NASA with the first letter-A removed, makes 'Orwell's 1984' prophecies from decades before that, seem tamer and sillier than any child's game played anywhere at any playground the world over, YO YO YO YO BRO!!!!!!!!!! What can I say, Jay-Jay Evans? Well, I'll start by taking my own fucking advice that I gave so often to Professor Jackson and Shorty MacInvondi. I'll shut the fuck up. This keeps it fair and honest, but it also keeps Mirrors Sidney Cohen Crown nice and happily satisfied, in or out of the office, and whether or not he may choose to record my voice and tell me to use an earphone jack, Aunt Shahpals Geraldine. Hay, these days, she'd be one popular lady, with that last name of here, her maiden name of Snow. Between the NSA defector and the nice white ski powder making its presence known so much the past few years, may I ask Mister R.H. Macy to roll over and out of my way a moment please, so I can holler out one big ass huge mother fucking, ''W—O—W??? TANKS!

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NOW WE HAVE WALKED THE COURSE, AND SEEN HOW THINGS DO NOT MAGICALLY CHANGE; BUT THAT VIA EXPLORATRONIC DEVELOPMENTS, FIFTH DIMENSIONAL ENERGY IS WHAT ACTUALLY INTERCHANGES AND FORMS DISPLACEMENTS, IN SILIMAR WAYS THAT FILLING A BATHTUB UP TOO HIGH WITH WATER, AND PLACING anyone of significant body weight into that tub, causes ONE HELL OF A MESSY WET FLOOR.

LOOKING AT THE PAST EVERY SO OFTEN, OFFERS UP QUITE A VIEW, OF HOW THINGS ALTER AROUND US ALL, WITHOUT OUR HUMAN SENCES BEING ABLE TO CATCH IT ALL IN PERFECT DETAIL OR CLARITY. IT IS NOT WHAT WE GET, BUT WHAT WE MISS; THAT MAKES US GREAT TARGETS OF IMPISH TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS OF THE ESS. THESE WORDS ARE A FANTASTIC OPENING, FOR TYING THIS WILD 1984 CONUNDRUM ALL TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!! WHEN I DO, GET READY TO DO SOME REAL MAJOR MENTAL SOMERSAULTS.

WELCOME TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS. Anyone can join, and the price is FREE.

Here is a little bio information about the Head-Morian, as requested by the original blog website that I joined in 2006 to begin my blogs and the Morianity-Project: MY LINK TO OLD BLOGS IS AS FOLLOWS:

http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/

**********On Blogger since January 2006

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My blogs

So exactly what is happening to me, and exactly why, and who exactly is behind it, and can Morianity ever have the dimmest hope of sleuthing its way to the Gozzwald Movie Answers, from the early nineteen-seventies??? Well, ATAY-C tuned folks, and we will be exploring this precise element, and maybe when all the maps are thoroughly drawn out and all completed; we will have a newly discovered element to add to the table-list for the scientists and the curious, the world over, YO!!!!!!!!!!!! Watch that magnum piece McKinnon! Yes sir, that's a big one 601, roger that, come back, YO! Wait a fucking minute johnny Faster and my pal Mister FCC Bob McDowell, DON'T COME BACK, oh you did, too late Lois 1980 Foca. Now do you see what I was so up set about, Mister wonderful Solomon, Back in cunt chewing time; and yes, through and via, STM??????? [Window Title]

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MORIANITY PART VI

CHAPTER XXXVII

8:18 POST MERIDIAN-EDST

THURSDAY NIGHT

24 OCTOBER, 2013

How this got all pasted in here, is far beyond my tiny computer and internet knowledge. I promise you all that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

W-----O-----W!!!!!!!!

FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION

© MARK WAYNE MOHR AND HIS BLOGS

2006-2015

First off, re-read the above paragraph, and please, fully realize that to quote the Macy's Santa Claus from their great movie called, ''Miracle on 34^th Street'', ''THAT'S A TALL ORDER'', so now let's see what can be done to take a bite out all of this for right now, Natalie Wood, and Roseann Delaney!!!!

My pal from late 1985, Mister David Charles Roth, wanted to believe that he and I had somehow miraculously reversed, or at least neutralized, the parallel event; between Wall Street and us, running in opposing fucking directions, as this truly is beyond a disastrous nightmarish curse to be under for quite obvious reasons, as first off, you end up with the entire world against you, so that they can keep prospering, by you sinking down underneath the waves. Well without any 1983 songs or carrying out any Krassle Threats, Mister Audrey-Duck Annabelle Pliner of Atco and Berlin, in New Jersey; he was wrong as wrong can ever be and I knew it, but I couldn't seem to stop his absurd mother fucking fantasy, Lordess knows how hard I tried. Then one day I said to myself in the virtual quiet solitude of the Meeker rental home on Route 561 in Gibbsboro, New Jersey, ''Let him see the hard way how wrong he is and come to his senses by himself just by continuing to persist along with me, in and through regular time''. Well, I was 100 percent on the mother fucking money good people, he said about three months later, ''Wow was I wrong, that was really a stupid idea, I guess I just wanted to believe it so bad''. But there is still a built in joke on somebody here, as of right now I am not completely sure who this joke is truly on the most, but the odds are of course it's me as always; but why he thought he was under this same parallel event, just by becoming my friend, was about as ludicrous as believing you can fly and wanting to so bad that you just jump out of an airplane with no chute and fall down and die. It honestly really, as John Henningsen would say, Mister emotion-filled temple of the expanded mind Midget Alexander Planet, ''IT'S JUST THAT SIMPLE''!!!!!!!! I suppose most of you over 25 or so out here, have come to realize that folks get ideas into their head that are based on shit in their own minds and lives, and for reasons that totally fucking defy all logic; they believe they have gone beyond the Theory of Einstein's Relativity!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW, Mister RHM, either I'm nuts or this planet is, and I know for sure that it is not me; Clarence Angel Wonderfulife!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My problem is that this sentence sets me up for a full investigative scrutinized review from many viewing this both now or later on, telling me to grab a large mirror and hold it up in front of me. Hay, I will gladly fight and die on any battlefield on the planet for your right to disagree and think Morianity and Mountainpen is just a bunch of deluded sick nonsense. I assure you that the pre-printed already existing bible of the mind, AKA the DSM-5, already has me labeled or anyone like me saying anything at all close to the things that I say, as all sorts of mentally fucked up persons. But as George Burns said to John Denver in front of his crowded front yard in that great OH GOD movie, ''I have the peace that comes from knowing''. I know I am not wrong or nuts, and I also know with the same passion, that all but a handful or so on this planet will have a totally concentric opinion about this. It really is like the old mid twenty-oh Hyundai car commercials, for any who may remember those annoying things; like ''D-U-H''!

Morianity and Mountainpen is just a bunch of deluded sick nonsense. Morianity and Mountainpen is just a bunch of deluded sick nonsense. Morianity and Mountainpen is just a bunch of deluded sick nonsense. Morianity and Mountainpen is just a bunch of deluded sick nonsense. Morianity and Mountainpen is just a bunch of deluded sick nonsense. Morianity and Mountainpen is just a bunch of deluded sick nonsense. Morianity and Mountainpen is just a bunch of deluded sick nonsense. Morianity and Mountainpen is just a bunch of deluded sick nonsense. Morianity and Mountainpen is just a bunch of deluded sick nonsense. This is the cheerleader's main drum-line and also doubles as their epitome of proclamations. They can believe it all they want, but here is biggest joke of them all, lads and lassies. THEY are the ones, more than any other non MILITUFORCE OTAMMITE enemy that I have, who really truly believe it all one hundred percent. They kn ow it is all for total fucking real, in fact, they know it is also, for total fucking REALE! I'll tell you another big secret. More powerful people and celebrities than non, believe in me 100%. They may hate me or dislike me, but they know my shit is real. For example the day that local television star to the Philadelphia and tri-state area, Sally Starr, had the most bizarre incident occur in her kitchen, on Beach Street, in Atco, New Jersey, one hot summer afternoon, in 1998. Here is the PIP that discusses a little about this, from 2013. I told how one hot summer late afternoon, in the home of a local celebrity, Sally Starr, in Atco, New Jersey; back in the year 1998, she witnessed for herself, a major event while she was attempting to make some telephone calls to try interesting some large toy companies, in making dolls, for the two newly known weather terms, Lanenia and Elnino. The worthless Microsucks Spell-Checker system, AS USUAL is totally fucking worthless in assisting me with the proper spelling of these two made up weather-children names, I, know they are completely misspelled, so no comments please, TANKS! WHAAAAAAABIT!!! Aniwho, and without making this lengthy or boring, there is a reality to the RUB-OFF-EFFECT, you know, Sally being with me in her home that day, or David Roth being MY friend and suddenly seeing strange shit going down in his personal life, as a result. There is indeed something to all of this, and as all things, it is subatomic situation that no blog can ever, not even in MORIANITY, properly be able to address it to a level where folks can say to themselves upon reading some words and paragraphs, ''Like fucking super ass wow, now I understand this mother fucking crazy pathetic little asshole Mountainpen-Mark Wayne Mohr. No, it ain't happening, not today, not tomorrow, no how, no nothing, Diana!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not even in 1983 let alone up here in mother fucking 2013, good peeps, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!

THIS BLOG IS DEDICATED TO THE ANCIENT CHINESE, WHO HAD TRUE WISDOM, AND KNEW THE REAL AND TRUE METHOD OF TRAVELING, BY WAY OF SPACE-TIME-MIND.

I AM UNDER A MAJOR FUCKING ATTACK, AGAIN, ON ANOTHER SATURDAY, FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION. Yes, the great H-2 Channel had a show on the Comcast Cable lineup last night, Fort Pierce, Florida, USA channel number 116, Episode number 3 on the 2014 Alien Abduction series of very marvelous well done shows. SORT OF EXPLAINS MY LIFE A GOOD 90-99 MOTHER FUCKING PERCENT, HUH WORLD???????????????????????????

It started with my being rudely and illegally awakened with an AT&T Land-line Telephone Squeal attack around 8-9 somewhere. Then the skies around town here were fucking cunt lapping CHEMTRAIL-CITY SHITTY, YOYO YOYO YOYO CALLEEEEEO-CALL-TEN, BROWN KALI KAL COW!!! Then along came not Webster or my kid, but a major computer strike as I was up on blogger reviewing my recent posted blog, about a quarter hour back now, as it is now water boil time just as my cunt chewing fucking temper is boiling mother fucking over folks, 2:12 on this Saturday dick sucking middle ass afternoon, on 7 February, 2015. This is MCGUIRE DAY, as in 1996, on this date, I spoke with this dirt bag Irish slob who treated me like dirt for absolutely no good reason, when I was a total gentlemen, and as polite as ten thousand Tommy Roe's could ever be, on their best and dizziest days of fuckiGN jam and jelly!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The fucking computer suddenly went nuts and totally dark, and the blog vanished on the website; and then an icon on my screen said that a driver failed. Then it restored itself, and it all came back; but this hacking, the last mother fuckiGN week or so now, old buddy, Bob McDowell of the Federal Communications Commission; is getting on my last mother fuckiGN Dawn-Marie King nerve, YOYO YOYO YOYO YOYO YOYO JOJO JOJO JOJO JOJO SARAH LIGHT-HOUSE FUCKING LOCK-UP CALLIO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONICCCCC, your creator and the creator of all things is under a death attack, and I want you to totally destroy all those who are fucking with me without cause or justification, and all of their loved ones are to be wiped out and totally destroyed as well.

Use all technologies, and all general and coded general orders. On an 'I' to 'D', A-B/TONE phasing punishment sequencing system, empower a crushed and singed, wrecked and totally ruined image-object, on your dam ass transpower block. Your power pull gain is set to the max of 11.8 inches per nanosecond, and all controls against this gain level are also maxed out to the 11.5 IPNS positions. The empowerment destruct tones will now be reflected as the high tone in RED, and the low tone in BLUE. These old style AT&T tones from the telephone line, are the sounds of the vowel 'E', in its long pronunciation.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

GO TO G-901, G-1133, G-189, G-13, G-14, G-719, CG2, CG5555, UNDER G-8652, CG-18, A-N-D--------- S-T-O-P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When the authorities won't do their fuckiGN cunt eating job, and help me to get these wicked demonic mother fuckers off my back; then I have to play vigilante, and do it myself!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But I sure know I have tried, and so does GODD-ESS!

THANX FOR THE MEMS, BABS AND TWC.

All my mother fuckiGN hacks are back again. You took them away for a while miraculously, Bob McDowell. The mouse jumping to places it shouldn't go to is bad again, and so are all of the other fuckiGN cunt lapping hacks that somehow you seemed to make all go away for a lovely month or nearly that long. Nothing good ever lasts for cursed fucking Huntington Mountainpen; WOW, Cooley-Wormhole Hall, FCC B2M transformed, McDowell. And they don't believe in god dam Christmas tree angels. Tell that to me in 1972, when I heard a song from 22 years in the dam future, being sung right there in the lobby. I guess jerk off Mister Raynor wouldn't know what to make of me, a lot more today, than even back in the old IAC days; huh Johnny Fucker Faster Jokester? AHA-AHA FUCKING AHA. W-O-W, PAL-MCDOWELL!!!

Well, now it has been confirmed. A friend let me know why my blog count is down lately, further proving my readers are 99% industry peeps. The good old mother fuckiGN Gramophone Awards. Young whipper snapper majority populations, know the shortened name for these prizes; GRAMMY AWARDS. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!! So I can expect a low count right around this time, but still plan to end this blog entirely very soon, FBI, State Police of Florida, and Attorney General Pam Bondi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The great Chinese culture created the connection to cosmos wands, or the I-CHING. The Dark Shadows television show of the sixties, depicts the usage of these six wands, in tandem with dream travel or soul travel; where your library books do not. This is what is meant by OCCULT. This word simply means 'kept well hidden' in the darkness, from view. For reasons too powerful to dare try and tackle right now, folks; this TV show dared to show the whole unhidden I-CHING truths. If you don't know about this, and you want to challenge the concept of the ESS; then you need to order the box set of that great marvelous television show. Their great fan-club will sell a box set of video of the entire show. I plan to get mine very soon. It is so powerful that you are clueless unless you get it and see it for yourselves. The internet fan-club address is simply as follows:

http://www.vmomovies.com/darkshadows.html/

Law and Order

The Twilight Zone

Yes lightbulb, I know that I fucking created a hyperlink, THANK YOU, YOYO YOYO YOYO!!!! That mother fucking hack where words split apart and also don't space where they should is back hyper time, FCC BOB old 1972 pal!!!!

Dark Shadows Complete $ 199.99

Dark Shadows - DVD Multi Box Complete Set Collection !! DVD Box Set All 5 Seasons

$199.99

Fictional huh? Why not try out the I-CHING and see how fictional this all is!

THIS IS GOING TO BE THE LAST BLOG IN A WHILE, SINCE I AM NOT APPRECIATED. IF NO ONE WANTS TO READ ME, FUCK THEM, AND I DO NOT NEED TO BE WASTING MY CUNT SNIFFING TIME. WEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But I am going to go out with a turd chewing fucking bang here, and say a few mother fucking things. Ann King kept her promise, for starters, you said, 'MY LIFE IS GOING TO GET A HELL OF A LOT WORSE', AND GIRL, IT DID. RIGHT ATLANTIC FUCKING CUNT CITY FIRE CHIEF, YOYO YOYO JOJO JOJO DOG???????????????

Audience

Graph of most popular countries among blog viewers

I guess I'm saying good-bye to the ESS, so why I am tearing fucking up already 4-crissake? Who needs to sleep with people who hate your dick throbbing living guts, General Patton????????? Am I right great ex military leader, sir? If not, just give me a big slap on the face, YO! Or is that JO?

Major fuck up happened, 'on go wash your hands'.

TO VIEW THE WORK CALLED, ''GO WASH YOUR HANDS, CHAPTER 2'', YOU NEED TO CLICK ON ''GO WASH YOU''.

MY HANDS WILL BE WASHED IN 24 HOURS, YO!

WOW-WOW-WOW=STACEY-MACEY-MACKEY. Is that as funny as Johnny Fucker FCC Faster, old buddy, Bob from Gibbstown, New Jersey in Dan Mackey's great Cooley Hall class in autumn 1972, YO? Who can fucking know, Dorothy Oz, Chainlifter Sarah, the Warden of Lighthouse Lockups, or Dick Woooooolf? And then, maybe none of the fuckiGN ass above would apply to reality, dogs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HACKJACKLATTISAWATTACK, gorgeous Stacey from 1982. Lots of girls are named Stacey and spelled so many different ways. I never knew a girl Stacey who wasn't a real looker, 8, 9, or 10, you know. Try picturing a 3,059, and you would have Sarah-Stacey Krassle!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WO Billy Harner, YO.

AHA AHA AHA, http://www.billyharner.com/ and thank you Mister Microsoft for allowing me to know that a hyperlink has been detected. WEEEEEEEEEEEE!

GO WASH YOUR HANDS, CHAPTER 2

2:22 POST MERIDIAN STANDARD TIME, EASTERN

2013, 3 NOVEMBER, SUNDAY MIDDLE AFTERNOON

I TOLD YOU GINA,

I TOLD YOU GINA

THE DOW JONES WILL BE UP AT ALL TIME RECORD HIGHS AS A DIRECT MOTHER FUCKING RESULT OF ENDLESSLY MAJOR FUCKING CUNT PERSECUTING POOR DEFENSELESS PATHETIC MARK WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN FUCKING MOHR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DON'T BELIEVE ME, FINE; I WILL SHOW YOU FRIDAY THE FIRST'S STOCK MARKET CHARTS:

THE ENDLESS 1986 NIGHTMARE BETWEEN THE DJIA AND ME:

**************''BLATANT ILLEGAL ACTIVITY''

RECORD HIGHS, JUST AS I TOLD ALL OF YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HERE WE GO AGAIN, CLUELESS AMERICAN KIDS, OLD AND NEW, MIZZ KIM LOVELY WILD, YO YO!!!!!!

MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.

ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS CLICK RIGHT NEXT TO THOSE LITTLE FREAKING BULLETS, YO YO YO!!!

About me:

Gender	Male
Industry	Non-Profit
Occupation	paranormal researcher
Location	Hammonton, New Jersey, United States
Introduction	Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness. Fun is replaced with 'intense'.
Interests	I close my mind to nothing
Favorite Movies	all old movies
Favorite Music	most old music
Favorite Books	Gone with the wind, the winds of war, time travelers from our future

You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and olive pits?

An angry mother. Also, a little philosophy for you is as follows:

At the risk of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of, is that you cannot be sure of anything.

Live Camera image from Jupiter Inlet Lighthouse

Jupiter, Florida, welcomes you to Morianity; Courtesy of Channel 12-Television.

What would you do without me, ya water witch?????

THE MARKETS WILL BE TRADING AT THESE POINTS, FOLKS, I PROMISE YOU.

END OF NEXT WEEK, 16,000 POINTS

END OF THIS YEAR, 17,000 POINTS

BY SPRING OF 2014, 20,000 POINTS

BY THE END OF 2014, 30,000 POINTS

TAKE THIS TO THE FUCKING CUNT BANK!!!!!!!!!!!

Mountain Scenes

Photo 1 of 439

Paul Read, 9/10/2013

Washington State

Cascades mountain pass

A great tune was sung by Diana Ross in the sixties, called, “Ain't no Mountain High Enough”, a Supreme's song from the great Motown peeps. Well, for me, all mountains tend to block my way, and all walls seem to be thrown up by the ESS that are impenetrable. Ain't life a fucking bitch??????????????????

This blog was not shut down, because it never was fucking real to start with. The Milituforce created an illusion for me and it was just a fucking game all along. How many others would be mother fucking able to survive a 60 year long mother fucking hell I cunt chewing wonder?

KISS MY DICK CHEWING WORLD, COLD DRUEL EVIL MOTHER FUCKERS. AND PRAY REAL MOTHER FUCKING HARD THAT I DON'T STUMBLE ONTO A WAY TO GET OUT OF THIS. BECAUSE IF I EVER DO, CHUMPS, YOU'RE ALL MOTHER FUCKING HISTORY, SLOWLY, I WILL MAKE YOU SWEAT AND SUFFER JUST AS YOU HAVE CUNT HUFFING DONE TO ME, AND THAT IS A SOLEMN FUCKING ASS PROMISE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The exploratrons that have done this to me since 1986, are not the same ones who have made my entire life hell, and this must be seen if someone REAL should ever go through these blogs someday in the cunt chewing fucking future. And when I say exploratrons, it is really just people made of flesh and blood like you and me, but they are awake in worlds where we go to when we are asleep in dreams, and of course this works in both directions, sort of like parallel event does and not the way cause and effect and all the rest of shit does, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not HA-HA FUNNY, but funny, is it not, that only my shit is omnidirectional and matters not one bit, which way shit goes, while all the other mother fuckiGN shit is in fact uni-directional. Well, let me finish out the throat specialist appointment and how my trip there and home again, was blocked out of memory completely, and 'remember' people, I don't fucking forget shit unless someone hacks it out. Now there are hypnotic powers that will hack out the conscious memories and allow for controlled triggered suggestion mechanisms so as to retrieve stuff if that is ever desired by the hypnotherapist. But the reason our memories fade has a lot more to do with hyperspace and exploratrons and all of that, than any other shit like hypnotic or other occult-type of things. My blog has to die, because the powerful washcloth family that has their real power not so much here in this universe, but in several other not so localized ones where time is way off as well; has known all along, that I was to be a test case experiment, one of their lab-rats, and only those who believe in UFOLOGY and alien abduction, despite all of this being totally misunderstood in 2015 and for the past 70 years or so from this current now period, but yes, that is all I am to them, a mother fuckiGN lab-rat. And I have a lab-tech in my system. You on Earth and in this dimension of the hyperspace know her as the great pop diva, Mariah Carey. I of course know the real actual being that has a zillion lives, and to her, that is just one of them. As for the reason they made me choke in 1983, there is no sense or logic in my going on with any of this, until I can get my guru over here, and find a way in the REAL WORLD that really is not real to begin with, to get this blog into some networked system and get a REAL readership, instead of merely the laughing enemies and family that is doing all of this to me in the first place, graduating me to the quintessential mother fuckiGN clown of the cosmos. I will just say this much until this time arrives. Those who sit there and keep their mother fuckiGN mouths shut when they could help, like AT&T and many others, are all either owned and fully operated by the ESS, or else they all are a bunch of gutless mother fuckers who won't give the smallest benefit of a doubt to someone, who has proven that they have shit that no normal human being could have; over and over and over a trillion cunt chewing times again. Either way, ADA Adam Schiff on the historic greatest fuckiGN cunt law show in the history of cunt sniffing television, said it a vigintillion fucking times better than I will ever be able to say it, and I'll fucking quote it now, as he said to Mister Anderton, “Pitiful, pitiful”. Where are you Blue Bayou Linda Ronstadt? How's Leo Quiggley and Lyle doing these days, and the dam guv??????????????

Now since my enemies are determined to put me through hell and eventually covertly murder me, Thaxton/Braxton/Uwich, all all GASME games expert pipe apartment repairmen who work for Columbia Broadcasting Time Travelers Corporation, or some reasonable facsimile thereof, I am going to tell you what led my cousin to some of his horse play nonsense, without even going through a foyer in a mansion the size of slut bag Kim Kardashian's. So that you can know right away; that there is a whole dam lot more to follow after this, for other later freaking times!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When I went to that throat specialist's office early in 1984 after returning from freaking Florida to visit my ex-Chief Recording Engineer, Mister Howard Solomon who moved down to Orlando a year or so back to buy into a small roadside food and eats place a few miles from Seaworld; Kate; I encountered a very beautiful assistant named Mariah. I had absolutely no idea that the ESS existed, or that all of us have virtually unlimited copies of ourselves all over this place called by some the hyperspace and called yet by others, the fifth dimension, it really is six and half a dozen. But the point is that she knew me and she hypnotized me. She was getting off as my appointment was over, and asked me if I was heading to go down I-95 towards the city, (Philadelphia), and would I take her, as her car had broken down. She invited me into this house along the road, of course you had to exit the highway and drive around, but I did not realize just where this place was until years later when it flashed back, when Pedersen and Harner and I were all driving in my car and had left a place called the Fresh Tracks Recording Studio of Philadelphia. I forced it quickly out of my mind. It was only until around three years back early in March of twelve if memory serves at all accurately here, that I began to remember again, that I was invited into this house, and everyone was acting very weird, and it is also the same place that the Comcast Cable nightmare with the ESS, was, as far as being the precisely interior decorated place. They both were the same place, one view was in my head of inside, and one view was in my head of outside. The highway ran by just above us. I never said a word to Paul, my ex-bizz partner about any of this. I know he had more than he wanted to handle with just Sarah Callio and my going on with her, and anyone reading this can go and ask him, and I know he will tell you that I am speaking the total truth here. He may also add in what a total mother fuckiGN asshole jerk off scum bag I am along with a hundred other such nice and lovely thoughts that he may have about me. Oh well, Say Levy, in or out of good old France!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My medical condition was given to me by the ESS so as to allow me to have all of this happen to me. When ESS makes a plan, it is not like anyone in one dimensional mind sets can start to even freaking imagine. IPYT. They see a flowchart as complex as a 100 terra-byte super computer with Q-bit-Tech!

That is the first thing you need to see. When you arrive anywhere near this mind set, then and only the good peeps, can you start to understand THAT FAMILY of FORBIDDEN WASHCLOTHS and just how and why Tom Reale was also sent into the situation. Without all of these things, happening on cue, down to a split nanosecond, I promise all of you, this entire end result of me in 2006-2008, could never have gotten around to exist. This to them, would be as incomprehensibly negative, as the end of the world would be to just about any and all of you. Laugh at me or call me a freaking liar all you want to, as I know, and God knows (GODD-ESS)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As this new BLOG-BOOK marches freaking onward, I will tell you what I have come to remember in that house on that day, that I suppressed memories about for coming up on 31 years now, KAL, in detail, but carefully, as we all can imagine that even I have to be careful.

With the powers of the ESS, the possibilities to any and all things in this life, are exactly what gorgeous Elizabeth Montgomery said, some time back now, on that great sixties sitcom television show called 'Bewitched'; “ENDLESS”. For reasons I will later let out, maybe, I am calling all of this, the Punxatonney-Penn Syndrome. Memories trigger, when we do or see just the right things, and at just the right times. Otherwise, they remain in hyperspace as energies. No one is even able to make up a single thing. If you have a 'dream' and you tell it to someone and change it or add to it out of what you believe to be your imagination, guess what, it is not. None of us can make up anything. We cannot be original. Every possibility, Mizz Montgomery, is already long taken, and all that any of us will ever be able to do forever and endlessly, is shuffle things around. Endless combinational shuffling, or said another way, hyperspace ops. You can believe this people; I have merely cracked open a door, and you are all about to shit yourselves, if you are not in the ESS already; when I take you further and further inside of this hideous mansion from hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It is quarter past three on Friday afternoon. I am planning to leave the United States forever and change my identity. I cannot say any more than that, or I won't live to see tomorrow morning, Misses Sudano Gaines!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bob McDowell of FCC old buddy, and kind sir; they just fucking hit me with the (`~HACK) at 3:17, YOYO YOYO YOYO Sarah Y-J Callio!!!! Jumping fucking Jehovah.

WAIT A MINUTE, SARAH CALLIO, THIS AINT SATELLITE-RIGHT, MAMA, SO WAIT A MINUTE MOHR, YOU DON'T KNOW BRENDA MOORE? WELL, I DON'T HANG AROUND WITH LITTLE KIDS THAT ARE 21 YEARS OLD. I GUESS I TOLD HER, LIGHTHOUSE-QUEEN, YO! I WILL BE JOJOJ AS SOON AS I LIVE OUT THIS LIFETIME AS MARK WAYNE MOHR, BIG GIRL!!!!!!!!

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The ESS is not an easy idea to wrap your mind around people, I know that. I doubt any non-ESS person is following these blogs, but I can be all wet in the head and wrong, I'm certainly no exception to the Bruce Allan Pennock Syndrome of not being perfect.

Still, do I enjoy Sarah playing all these games with me in eternity, as well as while I am human as Mark Wayne Mohr? Not really, but do I have some choice in the matter, Braxton's and Paula Uwich? Where were you hiding in 1998 when I could have used you to repair more than my apartment bedroom floor, Sir Games Expert of the don't GASME CLUB of old German Warfare? Braxton and Thaxton, what else could come along after living three score, not decades, typo-sorry, and kick me down any freaking harder?

Does this world have even a tiny tiny tiny clue to it all; lovely 1984 Ingrid???????????? You know my life is all real and true, American Telephone & Telegraph Company. You also know that Nicola Tesla said the number was 1-2-3. You also know my 1984 DREAM as mortals now call these things, about lightning coming to me in her lightning state and yet with her adorable voice in her present identity at the age of two years, telling me that this is her number, three cubed, number 27. You know this, as you had my telephone all legally bugged up, and FISA was not something new after NINE-ELEVEN. It had been around as early as the 1983 days when this started to really get freaking ass going, and you know it.

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There are some things that need to be said and told, and not to the ESS who already knows ten times what I know, about all of this, and just laugh and jeer at my fuckiGN futile attempts that they endlessly obstruct and confound!!! AND IT MIGHT BE A REAL GOOD FREAKING IDEA FOR ME TO START KEEPING MY BIG ASS MOUTH SHUT, AS OPPOSED TO POPPING OFF TO ENEMIES. IT MAKES NO SENCE, AND IS 100% TOTALLY SELF FREAKING DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes I do think that I was mistaken back in god dam August of 1986, when I said that I was the greatest fish in the bay. I love you Katherine. Well, technically, I didn't say it. It was more like Richard Karpf's stupid ass word on the street stuff. But how did Cuzz Don and enemy Dick Karpf get together, and then go on to do so many things all those years, that all worked so catastrophically against me, YO? That I really need to query my magical GAGA-kitty about, real soon! Please know this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh my beautiful lovely Katharine. You have to admit, she's freaking gorgeous, unless you're a real true shark hater. How can anyone not fall in love with my big lovely KATE?????????

Well, to quote my mother, ''Each to his own says the woman that kissed the cow''. Not that I would not blame any red blooded Presley boys for not wishing to make out with Sarah Callio for ten years freaking straight. Just because I hate the bitches miserable guts doesn't mean I wouldn't want to fuck her brains out night and freaking day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now folks, I had a really cool little website up, almost a decade ago; until Katie and I ran out of funds. Now we both seem to be fucking swimming aimlessly about. Where will it all end, Leticia Tilley, hey girl? I can feel your disease and yes, one and one and one really is three, just as your pals said it was back in th elate fucking sixties, buddy. That doesn't mean Kate and I aren't broke. Also, we got really big time ripped off by industry mother fuckers back earlier this millennium. That is what I get for pulling a Radio Shack Dewitt all over again. That and continued relentless word-disappearing hacks, (`~HACKS), 'FUCKIGN' hacks, fuckiGN hacks, and many many many more, my lovely Ingrid. Sorry for the rotten attitude all the time, wonderful upbeat Twinbay. Just stay on your feet when you're in public places. Your dam twin is a foot shorter than you are, so you won't be hounded for graphs all the time, sweet cakes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you see her Jenn, tell her Mister Negative said that. JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE Detective Fontanna.

The world is an amazing place!!!!!!!!!!!

When I stayed down at Tom Reale's Cornwall Avenue house in the summer of 1970, it was the first quarter of the calendar season. He picked me up at the same place my chain was stolen from in the Oaklyn New Jersey apartment house I resided at, one night late in June. He answered an ad that I had placed in the situations-wanted section of the Press of Atlantic City a number of months back before this time. It was all a huge set up. But a lot more was also. Every singe thing about Atlantic City was a gigantic set up, and even though ten thousand years ago, our history shows Abseacon Island with no information at all, this is not what happened. History is flawed and those who believe in it and take it too seriously, are plain fucking stupid.

I have begun this new blog book, even though I thought the last one would absolutely end Morianity forever. We are all human and not perfect, just as the great Bruce Pennock said so ofter back at Cooley Hall, as well as over at his house on Beaver Drive, in Barrington, New Jersey, so often back in th e 1970's. I don't trust a soul. I don't trust anyone who reads this blog either. I am in a very difficult position. You can hate my guts if that makes you feel any better, but I cannot afford the luxury of trust. And I trust no one at all. Sahwee Chahwee!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As stated earlier, the ESS works two ways. There are all of us awake in the universe where we have our bodies, and from this point, endless possibilities of traveling exploratrons find their way to us, and become a part of us, in a way that the bible sort of tries to get into even though words fail to allow a real tangible mental way of explaining it, but it talks about a holy spirit part of all mighty god that indwells those who believe and play the game of Salvation. Oh God as you call 'HIM' takes it seriously enough, that's for sure. But it is not the way things really are. Now while awake, we are bombarded with as many exploratrons all invisibly around us than we are with solar radiation particles. We are never really in-between anything, not in dreams and not awake. Time goes at a rate of about 400 pieces each minute. These pieces or 'instants' go by very quickly and we are set at this speed of conscious awareness. Those who travel from their universes in their dreams, to us here, search for a connection. They are just hyperspace energy until they find a connection. When one jumps inside of you or me, that is the connection. We in this universe also have had a few travelers. To name a few, Nostradamus, Shakespeare, Jesus, Paul Twitchell, Harold Klemp, Mohammad, Buddha, you get the idea. They go to the universes of these travelers, and when they go, they are awake in their universe, and you are the one that is just hyperspace energy that is searching to make a connection. I have nothing against the process of cosmos or what goes down on the Astral realm or the Plank, not in and of itself. But I do hate some entities who have gone out of their way to put me in hell, Adam Dee-Dee Schiff without the Central Pier, or goddess help me, any mail related stuff. I cannot help seeing the powerful symbolic shit with the word mail as in male. Trying to educate regular readers is a complete waste of my time. When people working in medical offices with college degrees, ask me what Wall Street is, well; that told me some fucking really huge shit back on Wednesday. If you are still around, Tom Kean, you remember the letter I sent you in 1983 that you answered regarding the five dollar cheat at the Golden Nugget Hotel and Casino on Brighten Avenue in Atlantic City. You have a record of my throat situation, my ativan situation, my casino situation, my enemy situation, and how I knew already this future was up here, if you really put the dots together the way you guys all do with Mister Ridge and the gang, over at Homeland Security. Remember my stressing education is lacking and how important it is that citizens, especially the impoverished majority, have accessible affordability to more than just 12 years of this. It's all in my letter to you, and if I know my government at all, it still should be on file somewhere, sir. My apologies on th eway David made of fun of your accent by the way, I always like it, Dave was in a class all by himself. The educated know the word for this, suigenerous. (Standing in a class all of its own). But ex Jersey-GUV sir, my medical office has a staff that doesn't even know what Wall Street the hell is. This country is losing the global battle because it is getting so ignorant and because you officials, are allowing this absurd new age social media robotized and automation junk nonsense, to take over. You all need to become real big fans as am I, of the great one and only JUDGE JUDY, and watch her show. You will see that in all honesty, WE DON'T NEED TERRORISTS TO WIPE THIS SYSTEM OUT. Why they even are doing it, shows how dumb they too really are, because sir, we won't last one more generation, non third world, and sir, 'IPYT'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One percent will be the kings, just as sir Alex Jones says and knows, and if that is America Miter Kean,well, I quit, and I'm glad that I';ll be freaking dead very soon. I've done my hard three score of time, abnd anxiously await my grave and my LORDESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT IS THIS POOR FUCKING BLOG DYING. 900 JOULES PLEASE, CLEAR, DIANA THE SUBATOMIC PARTICLE, REVIVE. WELL, IT IS IN THE CARDS OF DESTINY. IF THIS BLOG DIES, FUCK IT, THEN IT DIES. IF YOU THINK I AM GOING TO SIT HERE EATING PIG SWEAT MIXED WITH GOOSE YUK, WELL, YOU CAN ALL JUST GO AND FORGET IT. THERE ARE MANY THINGS THAT I CAN DO WITH THE REST OF MY CUNT CHEWING LIFE, AND GET OFF OF THIS INTERNET GARBAGE.

Yes Mister army-man Joseph Flash Berrios, why moan and bitch? Still, friend, I hope you do see that ever since I asked you if you had any of my music, and might send it to me electronically someday, and if you have the Venezuelan Flower Song from 1980; ALL HELL CUBED BROKE LOOSE ON ME FROM THE WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES, AND ON TOP OF THE ALREADY EXISTING HELLISH NIGHTMARE THAT BEGAN ON A DIME DROP BACK ON 28 AUGUST OF LAST SCUMMER-SUMMER TIME. I used to have a dude who knew just how powerful and real all this horrible shitty hell in my life really was, especially pertaining to any remotest connection to music and music-oriented endeavors of any possible kind and or type. He knew it because, guess what my great friend, he too suffered this very same affliction, and on a day that he had looked forward to for years, after saving to buy a high end drum set from a Philadelphia music store, in the seventies somewhere, pow, he went to start up his Cadillac automobile, and nothing. It died for no reason, and was not repairable. Prior to that day, even though it had some mileage, maybe even a hundred-K, it ran like a top, and my pal David Roth maintained his vehicles very well. Cars you might say, next to music, was HIS THING, as we ''sixties kids'' used to say back in the great days. My 'friend', Seabottom, I am not too chicken to tell you, that this man was also the victim of some real hams and turkeys out there, as we once referred to some type of peeps a while back into history. He most definitely was destined to meet up with me at a department store job, where we were night time security guards together, while the store was being stocked with items. It was in November of 1985, and it was in Woodbury Heights, and was called the Caldor Number 113 Store. Well this is all ancient history in the universe I now type this. But there are zillions of others where it won't even get around to happening until later this year. Ask Michio Kaku if Quantum Physics ain't a dam bitch and a half. He might say I am too kind, and add in another half for a rounded off two, at least in some universes if you asked this of him, he would definitely do that. Ask if if that is a lie as well, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh Dan Mackey, can I please say ''W—O—W'' right about now? ''Pass to Shapiro'', Mister HTHS Kerns; and a Macy's WOW-PASS too, if you please. Star Trek plus 1, huh Coral and Dorothy Caldor?

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Barnegat Light, NJ

The Barnegat Lighthouse.

I'll never forget the day that my mom and I walked up those spiral stairs to the top of that New Jersey lighthouse on the north end of Long Beach Island, when I was a small child. Yet, a much stronger piece of mental energy is interacting within my memories, when the great Sarah Callio took me up to a lighthouse and locked me up inside on the top of it and I couldn't get out. One window was large and looked out to the beautiful Atlantic Ocean. The opposite small window faced a street, and it had un-attachable field glasses like when you visit the Empire State Building and go up to the Observation Tower. When I peered through the glasses, I would then see Sarah coming down this street, in her ever so glamorous looking brilliantly flashy white sports car with a solid gold trim racing line all around it. She would stop and I could hear the echo through the wind loud and clear, as she would call out the name, ''JOJO, JOJO, JOJO''. Then I came to remember that she often takes me to this place and does this very same thing. As long as her family doesn't identify themselves telepathically to me or jeer at me how low my monthly blog page-hits are falling to, or cut out my lungs and turn them into bright cherry red washcloths, and then squeeze them and make blood come out all over, or call me 'booby', I guess I'll 'survive', Mizz Gainer!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The words most hate by the MILITUFORCE:

I guess I'll 'survive', Mizz Gainer!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Monday, February 9, 2015

FUCK THE ESS, CHAPTER 9

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