I
TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE, CHAPTER 21
Long
story made very short, great people; I really did do exactly what
this blog book title is repeating, for twenty-one times now. It
failed-failed-failed, and people like MCTH and others, keep wondering
why I say this, and what this really could possibly be about.
After-all, I am indeed 1400+ miles away from there as the roads go,
maybe a wee less as the crow flies, and I'm not a crow. So, I'll try
to explain, as well as ad in some cool new stuff that just might bend
some brains into frikkin' pretzels. Sorry if any of my words ever
cause anyone discomfort. Life is as real as we dream it to be, from
the vantage point of our truer plank existence. Still, if we remember
to think each and every second, along a totally programmed perfect
way, it will indeed alter reality around us and not the way many an
optimist believes in just three simple dimensions. It alters first, a
towel-seepage-effect in transdimensional reality,that will then go
onto make alterations where we appear to be awake in a tangible
caporial plane of existence, illusion or not, E=MC SQ or not. One day
Dawn King came into my room smoking and puffing hard on a long slim
cigarette and she put it down on an ash tray I kept in there for her
or mommy-Ann as they often came in and always smoking something as
they were the epitome of chain smokers and I was always ready for
them. She said, and this was right after moving into the first of the
two places that I resided with them, and yes, I was screwed with and
MIND-HACKED, so no need to tell me, on the prior blog; for any or all
of you that caught it, and scratched their heads, thinking which
house came first, the 6-9 non hallway medical dream house or the FBI
agent owned owned one next to the blueberry field. Mind hacking is
very real when you tell things on this magnitude. Forces don't like
it. They'll hack machines, and they'll hack other people to annoy me,
or they'll even go so far as to hack my own MIND and take control
over it just enough to screw up a blog. If you study the last 5-8
years of my more than 9 year blog project now, you'll see this has
been done on almost every blog, and over and over and over again,
with unrelenting passion on their part. This includes blocking my
mind-memory every single time I blog all these years, right up until
right now, to mention and explain this to you all in more clarity and
detail. This breaks a major barrier right now, putting my empire up a
notch, and theirs down. Also, as you can see, Maggie struck, or
really, has counter-struck. I don't like this, and I did not start
this war with the Milituforce. They started this with me, in AUGUST
OF FUCKING 1986, abnd no one is going to put any fucking guilt trips
on me. This is not my fault, Kevin Apollo-13 Bacon, so don't bust out
the wall if you don't want to die out in fucking outer space, YO!So
aniwho, getting back now on point; Dawn came in and said she wanted
to talk a seck about a tape that she heard playing in my car. I
thought she was sound asleep in the back seat the night before coming
home from Egg Harbor City, and she was faking or RAW. She said that I
had given a copy of that to her mom and one of the songs on it sung
by me was called, “Don't Hide, you Can't Hide”. This is the song
from 1997, where the lyrics went, “Einstein's
secret, kept as science fiction. Mark and Sarah aren't the only two
that no the diction”. She wanted me to tell her what I meant
by those words. I told her what was truth at the time in early
September of 2008; that they were just words, made up for the sake of
writing a stupid little song one day out of the blue, and the
original melody was written 20 years and a half or more ago, back
early spring time somewhere of eighty-eight. She blurted out, “I
was turning 22 back then, no what made me say that, I mean 20, and
was just out of my teens”. I said, “you were born in spring 68
then, not 70”. She got red in the face like a beet on a
thanksgiving dinner plate, and then she creamed at me, “yes, I was
born in 1968, not 70, so shut the fuck up Mark”. Then as if nothing
happened, she put out her long Virginia slim cigarette or whatever it
was, in my younger days those type of smokes were called that; and
she then said, “I know you're a liar Mark. Those words meant more
to you than just made up junk for a song out of thin air, and I know
this because of the CD that Carey did a while back, about that famous
formula”. I stared at her, realizing at that instant, that indeed,
this might be why she did that project or named it that. Dawn could
obviously read me and I was way to busy to try wearing any poker
faces; and she knew the mental wheels were spinning around inside my
mind, and beofre I had too long a chance to meditate on this powerful
new information that came to me by way of her; she yelled, “Mark to
Earth, come in you asshole”. I said to her, “I am sorry for
seeming to be sidetracked, but was trying to think why this all
happened, as I wrote those lyrics in 1997 to a musical older song I
had written as I just told you, back in 88”. She hesitated for ten
seconds, lit up a new cigarette from a pack in her blouse pocket,
with a very fancy lighter. Then she said to me, and I remember all
this clear as a dam bell. “I w ant to hear every song you wrote in
your life”. I told her it was no problem, that I would get a bunch
together onto some cassettes and give them to her. Naturally, these
included the 1983 and 1984 things with accidental flip side
conversations such as lab tech Mariah and I, and all of it, RGG from
86, the entire and complete enchalate. It only took me the weekend to
do at work, with a little dubbing tape deck, and I had made her
eighteen C-90 tapes on a special double-double speed system that
allowed me to do an entire C-90 duplication in about 22 minutes. A
week after that, Dawn changed and was never ever the same with me
again. Up until that time she always told me she liked my unusual
wild songs and style of music, and even liked my singing voice, which
made me wonder what she was smoking, but anyway, it all flipped
upside down by the middle of the following week. For 9 straight days
she began treating me so horribly that I cried to Ann when she came
into my room one afternoon. This horrible monster woman made a grown
man cry like a pathetic fucking little baby. And then she got worse
and worse and worse and worse. It never got better, just as my old
engineer Howard would say, back a the RPL Sound Studio, in 1980. But
after this time passed, I had to take her husband's brothers from
Guatemala, back to the Queens JFK Airport. She insisted that I take a
route through the city instead of Googling a much nicer way to get
there. When I got through that day of hell, my next day was even
worse, down in Atlantic City while taking her to her psych place at
the intersecting Pacific and Tennessee Avenues. Anyone wanting to
know about it can archive the middle September of my 2008 blogs; but
this is way too fucking depressing for me, to rehash right now. But
during these times, came major MC dreams, both at work when I would
doze off a short while, as well as when asleep at home. There was a
lakehouse, and Ann was always there, as was Nick Cannon, and Ann was
always doing things to Nick that angered him, and making it look as
if I had done it. One such incident was when she was high up on a
deck of this huge home, and throwing rocks out at him below, while he
was swimming in the lake, and then turning her back leaving him to
look up and see only me standing there. Finally he came running up
and did a Darius Evans on me. He grabbed my throat and lifted me up
in the air, choking me. Shortly after this while Ann was next door
visiting her friend Betty, Dawn again entered into my room and said,
“Mark, we need to have a fucking talk, you and me”. She told me
she was molested by her father as a child over and over again, and
was disgusted by my videotapes that she had found in the basement in
totes. I told her there was no pornography at all on those tapes, and
no under-aged people or anything disgusting, and did not know why she
was saying this to me, and I was almost in tears, again. Then she
went on and told how her brother Joe as well as her father were
monsters, and had abused her sexually over and over, and no one
helped or believed her as a small child. She hated sex and she hated
men. I asked her why she got married to Chicky (Lewis Laines) if she
hates men, after-all, I don't really like people or women all that
much, and so you don't see me so much as going out dating, so what
gives, I asked her? She screamed at me, “Fucking rotten bastard,
you're no good, you're soulless, stop asking me questions, I'm asking
you questions, you got that?” I submissively said, “Sorry, I
don't want to make you feel bad, but I can;t help you unless to tell
me why you have been so angry with me for weeks now, as we used to be
good friends before I moved in here with you and your mother”. Then
she grabbed my arm so hard it cut off all the blood circulation and
my hand went dead and cold and it hurt, and she threw me off my bed
and onto the floor, next to a chair she'd been sitting on, and now
was standing up in front of. She said, “Do you know why that real
high dog whistle sound played through your car stereo back a while
ago when you were driving near the Kessler Hospital and were with
Mommy and Ed?” I was shocked and thought to myself, I wonder why
Ann told her about this. She seemed able to read my thoughts, and
screamed out at me, “No Mark, Mommy never told me, and neither did
Ed. I dreamed it, and when there is real extra bright color in my
dreams, they come true or they tell something true and it never
fails”. I stared at her and eventually said, “Well Dawn it is
totally true, this did happen and it was horrible. I couldn't stop it
or shut it down or lower the volume or do anything at all and then
finally it stopped all by itself. Even shutting off the car and
taking out the key did not stop it”. Then she said a mind bending
thing to me that I honestly don't know why I put it out of my mind
other than my hell was so horrible monster bad living there under
that fucking roof with these monsters from hell. She said, In the
dream, I was Mariah Carey, not me, and I had a magic little
flashlight that made all kinds of pretty colors that went off and on,
and I aimed it at your car as it went by, and that is when it
happened to you”. I got quiet and kept my head down, and finally
she said, “Mark, I want those disgusting fucking tapes of yours,
taken out to the trash, before the end of the day”. With that, she
exited the room and slammed my door shut. An hour later Ann came back
from her visit with her friend Betty. Then Carol came over, a friend
of Dawn's, and they went out for a short while. While I was free to
speak to Ann, I told her only the highlights of the interaction
between her lovely Evil-Chuckie daughter and myself while she was
out. I told her I am not getting rid of my tapes, I have no money to
open up a Public storage space locker, and if she wants them gone,
then she can pay for this storage locker, or else, I will leave
within a week. Later that night, a family meeting, as many of these
happened, was held at the dining room table. Crissake; another meal
ruined daddy-1965!!!!!!!!!!! That's a story from Heredahellda. Well,
at this dinner table meeting, before dinner was served; I learned
that Dawn had read some dirty things I'd written onto the back covers
of these VHS tapes. It was all stuff taped off the TV, but I would
say things such as 'gorgeous Friends Show sluts' or 'whore Susie
Dakameyer', and stuff like this. Look, so I always had a low opinion
of women. I don't know why; but I have had it for more than 300 years
now; and I cannot change who I am. I don't mean to be hurtful,
offensive, or anything; but I should have the right to have my tapes,
and label them however I want, as nothing illegal or even
pornographic is on any of them. The most dirty they get is swimsuit
bikini contests. Then written on the VHS box might say something like
'Trashy girls in bikini's-like WOW'. These are typical things that
Dawn must have seen written on these tape boxes, and because she was
molested so badly as a very young child by her rotten family, and
this family is so full of fuckiGN rotten incest it isn't funny at
all; but this caused a lot of the explosion that went onto take my
head right off, and forever alter the relationship between the two of
us, which up until this last third of the year of 2008, was always
great. There was never a problem, and we laughed together and I never
had any reason to not like her a lot. If I had, crissake, would I
have moved right there in with her and he mom? Are you nuts? Still, I
think Dawn-Marie was 'possessed' to use old world lingo. Why would my
music be such a big part of it, if this was not the real cooky
monster behind all of this mother fuckiGN bull shit? Think about it
rationally, all of you great ladies and gentlemen out here, YO!
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2015
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR.
Kevin
Moore was only one of dozens who have stolen my material. But the
biggest case was in 1980 when my record promoter sold me out to Sigma
Sound and the Gamble-Huff team of vipers. Now the news is buzzing
with a song infringement case with Mister MG, and the group from
today, whose family says, ripped him off. But without money and
power and people behind you, try getting anything when your
intellectual property is getting robbed. Laugh-laugh-laugh-laugh. And
think about it peeps, we don't even need poor old dirtbag Mike
McNulty for this one!
Silly
me, not only are Trix for kids, but tricks pulled off against
financially little people by big financial bully people, is as old as
any playground rage either side of the fucking Mississippi River. But
when I ever try to get what's rightfully mine, I am called a
miserable complainer, a nut, a crack-pot, a moaner-bitcher, a
malcontent, and a few hundred other nice lovely expressions such as
these. Add sarcastic I suppose too. Yeah David, life really is
'grand', just like you said, but if I was able to be in your dead at
47 friends-club, never able to begin life into a 48 year birthday, I
would have spared 12 and a quarter years now of hopeless misery and
agonizing excruciating suffering that goes beyond even words such as
'inconceivable'. Think about it, 147 months since I was turning 48.
All those months of NOT SUFFERING, just if I could have somehow been
included in his DEAD AT AGE 47 CLUB, as all of his male friends
seemed to die with regularity, between their birthday of 47 and 48
years. When I was a little bit into this period, I struck a couple of
wild crazy deer that bolted right out at my car one dark night, back
in New Jersey. I thought, well, I am going to escape this. Well, my
daughter was right all along. There is no escape for me! Oh those dam
ass shadow monsters, Mister Woodside and Elder Hair. W-O-W!
Oh
yes, I definitively said that Dawn would literally have to be indwelt
by her very distant cousin, for all of this to begin to make any real
sense, and when I just hinted at it ever so dam slightly originally;
I GOT REAMED AND PUMMELED WITHIN HOURS, AG PAM BONDI OF FLORIDA,
USA-ESMWG! Now I will really need you to look over my shoulder
Sheriff Mascara of SL County of Florida, and AG Bondi. Please just do
what you can, and thank you very much! What would you guys do if this
had all gone down in your personal lives? Go ahead and ask yourself
that question in the privacy of you own souls, sometime. Maybe that
may evoke a spark of sympathy for me where none was there before.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Boy oh boy, do I seem to have a powerful and endless
effect on things around me; especially when and if it is at all
connected with the Entertainment industry (EW).
MARCH
12, 2015,
EARLY
THURSDAY MORNING AT 2:51,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 66 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 100%, AND IT FEELS 66 DEGREES.
RANGE
TODAY-----(H-72/L-66).
BASICALLY
NO WIND, TO A WHISPER BREEZE.
|
|
HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY
GAGA-KITTY, YO, HEY GAGA-KITTY, YO, I REALLY THINK YOU ARE ONE COOL
KITTY!!!!!!!!!!!! JET BLACK WITH BRIGHT WHITE PAWS, AND HE LIKES AND
RESPECTS THOSE LIKE ME, WHO ARE ABLE TO TAKE FLIGHT; MIZZ WASHBURN.
WELL, MAYBE THAT'S WHAT ALL THIS SHIT PROVES, LOVELY JEN. GIVE MY
BEST TO GORGEOUS TIFFANY FOR ME, YO! OH AND MY BEST TO TWINBAY TOO,
YO.
Let's
get some fucking dam phones, and candy; and go crush on silly games,
that have no possible tangible reason for even existing at all, King
Rubbish! That's my SAGA, oh great ripped off pizza pie PAPA, non-GAGA
kitty cat.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bake
on Donna Summer and Paula Patton. Two lovely dolls if ever there were
any, but one looks up and sees brown and another looks down and sees
green. That makes a world of difference, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
YEAH,
I KNOW, GROW UP MOUNTAINPEN. I NEVER DID, PP, AND PP, AND
PP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA
MCNULTY, YO.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOO
ARTHUR CRANE, WHERE IS MISTER CHARLIE AND PAULA RUNNEROVER, I WONDER?
OH BOY, I AM KEEPING MY MOUTH SHUT. TO MAKE PAULA EVEN MADDER, I'LL
NOW SAY TO YOU, PLEASE BE CAREFUL, GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAA.
Oh
shit Mister Ringboat sir, I
remember all the things you told me, oh mighty Steve
Psyche Murray
of Burlington. ALL
OF IT.
OH
THE GODS across the pond; Mister Myrathus. Let me come down now and
land this thing, Estelle Muller Foods Bassler Anderson Enron.
/////////\\\\\\\\\
and gee whiz gash golly darn it, Uncle John, Latengrate; only which
grate, and should I keep doing a John T. MacInrowe? I'm going to
fucking go throw a big ass temper tantrum now, mommy and daddy! I
hate the living guts, General Patton, out of people that never will
hear my side of all of this. Can you blame me, tough guy war hero,
pal of mine?????????
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
MARCH
11, 2015, NOT AMANDA HARRIS-DS.
WEDNESDAY
MORNING AT 11:03,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 81 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 72%, FEELING 86 DEGREES.
FORECAST
HIGH TODAY IS 88,
RANGE
TODAY IS-----(H-81/L-73)
WIND
IS ESE AT 13, GUSTING TO 14.
MY
ENEMIES AWOKE ME EARLY AGAIN, WITH ANOTHER ILLEGAL TELEPHONE
SQUEALING SOUND; OH GAP FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION, MY OLD
FRIEND FROM 1972, MISTER
BOB MCDOWELL, SIR, AT COOLEY-WORMHOLE
HALL, OF HADDONFIELD, NEW JERSEY!!!!!!!!
RIGHT
AT JANE WHORE WITCH BITCH FONDA TIME, A LOUD ILLEGALLY LOW PRIVATE
AIRPLANE ATTACK JUST STRUCK THE BUILDING HERE WHERE I LIVE, SIRS AND
MA'AMS AT THE FEDERAL AVIATION ADMINISTRATION, AND PAM BONDI, STATE
OF FLORIDA ATTORNEY GENERAL'S OFFICE. THANK YOU NORTON SIR, I KNOW I
HAVE HIGH DISC USAGE, THANK YOU FOR THE PROCESS ALERT POP UP WINDOW.
I CLICK ON IT TO SEE WHAT I AM SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT IT AND YOU NEVER
SHOW ME ANYTHING. LIKE DUH!
I
AM HEARING SOME DOORS STARTING UP, BUT NOT REAL LOUD, ALSO, SHERIFF
KM SIR. THIS HAS BEEN A REAL ASSAULT ON ME NOW WITH ALL OF THIS
CONTINUAL HARASSMENT AND PERSECUTION, THAT ALL BEGAN LATE ON THE
FUCKING ASS AFTERNOON, OF LAST THURSDAY, AN ENTIRE WEEK BACK NOW;
FORT PIERCE POLICE DEPARTMENT AND ANY AND ALL RELEVANT AUTHORITIES
OUT HERE, YO!
Last
night, I was with my beautiful Atlantic Ocean and she was giving me
the time of my life. Suddenly, those same ten or so gang of early
twenty-somethings from Atlantic City, a giant girl gang all around
six four to six eight in height, and more lovely than most beauty
contestants; all surrounded me again, and they brutally raped me.
Then I remember Detective Stabler and Benson, from the hit NBC-TV
Network show, “L&O-SVU” appearing while I was stumbling up to
some sand dunes. The exact beach that I seemed to be at was
unfamiliar to me. I sat down on one of a small group of very old
decrepit wooden chairs, that were all by the foot of these beach
dunes. Before continuing, the (WD-HACK) just knocked off a word, and
as you know from prior blogs, a lot of fucking (WD-HACKS) are again
being illegally used on my property here, FCC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
DEMAND SOME FUCKING JUSTICE. So moving on and back to the 'dream',
they burst out laughing at me, even though I was all bloody and my
clothes were all torn apart as if I had been caught in a dam tornado.
When I asked why they were acting in this manner, they began grabbing
handfuls of sand and throwing it into my face until my eyes were no
longer able to see, and I was in intense pain. Then Detective Benson
said to me, “Mark you buttwipe you, don't you remember the day you
left Dawn King's psych place at Pacific and Tennessee Avenues, and
you heard her on her cellphone and you were silently thinking even
though you weren't able to hear the conversation on the other end
clearly, that the voice sounded like your old lab technician from
early 1984? I blurted out, yes I now recall that, but back then I
wasn't thinking about my lab teck daut a lot, as things hadn't all
gotten around to happening the way that they eventually did. Then
Detective Stabler said to me, Time to be a man and face up to your
daughter and tell her you're tired of her childish rotten behavior no
matter who the hell she is. I told him I didn't have the balls to do
this. Ann was suddenly there on a chair next to me while Stabler and
Benson were standing over me almost glaring at me, while my eyes
started to tear from the sand attack. Ann said, we have to go now,
Dawn wants you to go to the Rent-A-Center store near your guard
office in the Pleasantville Shopping Plaza, to see about renting some
furniture. This of course did all happen, the part where we went
there to rent furniture, and after that wild other dream where my
daughter said that I would be seeing her the following day, and in a
wild way, I did. So then Detective Benson went over to where Ann was
sitting and flipped her chair over sending Ann onto the beach yelling
at her, while Benson told her to shut up. Then I hollered out, holy
shit, that is when I saw her plastered all over the wall on large
screen television sets that were all set to the VH-1 Channel, and MC
was singing one of her many hit songs. Hay wait a second, Dawn was
talking to her on that phone of hers. Then Stabler blurted out real
loud, making me wipe slobber that was coming out of his mouth, off of
my face, as he did it with such force and veracity; “Put it
together you idiot, you're not a child Mark. She's been screwing'
with you since she was one though” That last sentence that I put in
quotations, I will remember as long as I'll remember President James
Earl Carter telling me “I KNOW” when he responded to me in 1986,
in that other beach interaction (dream) after I yelled over to him in
sort of a questioning manner, “I'm dead Mister President”. I
really did hear, and had blocked from my mind; that cellphone call;
despite DMK being right next to me in the passenger seat, while I was
driving down Pacific Avenue, towards where you turn to the right and
westbound, to enter the Expressway out of Atlantic City, and back
home to our rented home in Hammonton, New Jersey, owned by Federal
Bureau of Investigation (FBI) Agent, Steve Caruso, from Austin Texas,
back in the summer and autumn time in the year of 2009. I swear that
this is all true, right down to the dream interaction from the night
before this trip to take Dawn to her psych appointment, where MC told
me, “Mark, you'll be seeing me tomorrow on your trip to Atlantic
City with my Cuzz-Dawn”. As with the Krassle chain removal back in
December of 1969, I remember sort of chuckling in the interaction
(dream) when hearing that, and thinking, 'yeah, whatever'. These are
powerful incredible things that happened to me, yet what Dawn said to
me in private and in my room in the house before this house and the
one also from a powerful (DREAM-INTERACTION) with the 6-9 rooms
without a lot of hallways that all sort of go into each other and the
wind that was blowing the doors shut real loud and all of that, from
June 21, 2008.
What
no one knows is that I have recently met a person who knew the world
famous psychic who had a shop on the Black Horse Pike in Atlantic
City, by the name of 'world renown Julia',
and maybe still does for all I know. But this person has not been in
Jersey for thirty years.
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2015.
Just
what is meant by that bit of hocus pocus you may be dam wondering,
kind folks?
Well, whether it be the people at the Copyright Office, or any of my
family, or anyone at all, I learned or should have, years and years
and years ago; not to trust people, and not to depend on people.
Well, the first part of that is able to be used quite negatively. You
can indeed trust people. You can trust them to be HORRIBLE,
CRUEL,
and many times even CRIMINAL.
Just look at how Ann and Dawn made me lose what little I had in this
life. It is all gone forever; right down to a few pictures and photos
of my mom and me as a youth with friends, and so forth. They
took it all away, and as the sociopaths they are,
have no feeling about it at all. In 2011, Ann told me over the phone
right here in this very apartment here in Public Housing, from her
nice home up in Hammonton, “I am enjoying your nice 40 inch
television. I spent five thousand fucking cunt dollars to purchase
that TV set, back in 1995, and not in god dam fucking Rent-A-Center
either. I went to the very same American Appliances that I had gone
to in the summer of 1986, while living at Karpf's shit hole place in
Cherry Hill; to buy a used lousy refrigerator. The
U.S. © Office to this day, has a tape in my files up there; that
talks about this refrigerator, and this store on the Black Horse
Pike, in Mount Ephraim, New Jersey,
the same pike the great world fucking renown Julia Psychic lives and
operates on. Well, Jane fuckiGN miserable rotten whore Fonda just got
at me again, wonderful old dam world, page eleven of eleven, so allow
me to please cunt-phlegm-rape (compensate) to put it more politely
and less angrily! I cannot win for cunt huffing losing, squared,
cubed, and super fuckiGN Cuban!!!!!!!!
I
TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE
CHAPTER
20
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Hay,
it's you and me, and Helen Reddy, against the world; Uncle Jesse
Hair! My best to the GG-BRIDGE. Just don't bother with yellow phones,
or crossovers!!!!
But
now my question is why, because the enemy is killing me at light
speed squared; lovely AG Mizz Bondi? This parallel event has made
perfect sense ever since August of 1986, so I confess to you, great
AG; I do not understand some things going on around me, and the
cosmos as well, ma'am. I'm only human B.A.P.
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
Please
watch over me, Sheriff Mascara sir!
I ONLY WISH THAT JIM
BURRRRR
WAS MY ONLY
WORRY AND HASSLE. CAN
YOU IMAGINE MY KID'S FRIEND, EXPECTING ME TO BAIL HIM OUT OF YOUR
JAIL, BACK IN EARLY AUTUMN OF 2010; SHERIFF KM????????????????????
BOO-YA!!!!
Maybe I should run
away to Lingan
Cape Breton Nova Scotia, or just take a deep dive
into the sea and then a deep breath, and it will all be over for me,
Sheriff!!!!!!!!!!! Oh WOW Macy Bunch.
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
OH MARSHA MY DAM
NOSE
Not all of my blogs
are super long winded WAR AND PEACE works of Tolstoy, and not all of
them are mere little TWEETY-BIRDERS either. Many fall in-between,
after-all, this is a cosmos in perfect ordered balance. Just ask any
dam scientist or physicist, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TWEET-TWEET-TWEET-TWEET,
WEEEEEEEEEEEE ALL LOVE THOSE TWEEEETY BIRDS, DON'T WEEE?
Hay
Poolroy, look at me go, back in 1995. Wait up Joan, we can share a
lap lane together, and blow poor old Poolroy's mind again! Without
any short blogs or birds; allow me now to just say,
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!
Yes
Dawn told me something so huge about Julia Roberts and Benjamin Brat,
both characters playing as possible lovers, on an episode of the
greatest law-TV show in the history of the entertainment world (EW),
'LAW & ORDER'. She told me that they were very close for a while
on the fan side of the camera, sort of an older EW expression. She
went onto tell me that they both knew about me, meaning me and not
Dawn, and that she wouldn't ever tell me any more. Then she told me
when I swung the conversation towards MC a little bit, that I better
watch out. ''Her Atlantic City friends, as well as her distant
relations; don't like my blogs, whatever blogs are''. Dawn
was not computer savvy by the way, and did not know a reboot, from an
old smelly shoe. This is what some of you who hinted with me
some stuff, need to know and be told again, as to why I was claiming
dangerous living conditions, life threatening in fact, Stockholm
syndrome, and more; yet was blogging all manner of bad things about
her and her wonderful family from HELL! She told me that if the
Atlantic City Fire Chief who was super tight with her mom, which by
the way I had this totally verified later on while living in the next
house with these great marvelous folks; but that he would ice me, and
that no matter what happens or how I try to get vindication or
justice for my murder, I won't, and also, that the New York City
authorities won't ever ever put MY in jail no matyter what she might
do. This was after I said to her that I believe the two of you
planned that escape from the Seacaucus Rehab, and that my distant
cousin the donald also was in on it, “The Macy Bunch”. This is
when she said MC would come down to the house that evening, and kill
me in my sleep with her bare hands if I ever spoke like that again,
and that no one would ever put her in jail. I believe it all too. I
doubt that my own daughter would ever ice me, but it is well overdo,
and I'll admit it totally, for a real new juicy
O-JAY-TRIAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! May I pweeeeeeeze say 'WOW'.
If not, may I request a PASS to Shapiro, HTHS of Westmont, New
Jersey, USA-ESMWG?????????????????
Well,
I, unlike so many, and even salt water fishermen can be included in
this; am NOT a greedy person. This was one thing that the Jersey
casinos hated about me. This has all been told before and needs no
reiteration. Still, greed is probably just about the most dangerous
thing on the planet, but not the absolute most. That would be the new
age slow shift towards real honest to god sociopath uncaring
behavior. Ann can watch my 40 inch TV without a flinch of guilt for
what her family did to me. But Ann won't die in any lonely hearts
club. She has plenty of company, from jetty fishermen to Brat and
Roberts. We all know the song real well, even though it never made it
past the music sheets on my fucking keyboard stand, and the ©
Office.
But
greedy Mister Fisherman, this is all that he would say,
I've
been working hard out in the sun all day,
And
I'm not giving any freaking fish away.
Hay
psychic reader Sherry of Collingswood, New Jersey, United States,
from 1997, YO,
YOU'LL
BE CROSSING OVER to KRASSLEVILLE,
so let
me tell my 'BLOGAUD' something about wonderful and awesome
KRASSLEVILLE
KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE
KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE
KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE KRASSLEVILLE.
Hay
Sherry; that nutcase you worked along with, had the spirit of Mister
Krassle in him, to use old world lingo. We in Morianity and
After-Morianity, use the term, the ESS was taking an interest and
involving themselves with this. Hay, naturally and why not, this
involves the programmer of this entire upline-game-simulation. I knew
him a couple of years before I met you right on the lake near Sally
Starr's place on Beach Street, shortly after lovely Princess Diana
woke up out of this dream. She told me to come and see you, and I
felt like I was back in the Quakertown Park or that other park
further up north when my parents drove to an isolated place with a
merry-go-round, and a few other playground equipment apparatus.
Fawces don't like me talking too much, and suddenly my nabes are
shouting loudly out in the 'common hallway', Lex Luther, Otis, and
Miss Tessmocker. Well, the elevators are down beyond this, so why not
think of the old 1978 movie, for crissake? He really wanted to kick
my ass, and you actually stopped him once from doing that, Sherry.
But if things don't stop getting worse for me and this persecution
doesn't back fucking off; then I will have to run to the local press
to show all the reasons why the club did shut down, right down to
shit that Wright Patterson AFB is not going to like one tiny whittle
bit. BACK OFF ME MOTHER FUCKERS!
Oh
great and powerful lighthouse queen (GAPLQ), I am real tired of you
locking me up all over the place. In public water company properties,
in lighthouses, in warehouses, and RAW. Still, that cool white sports
car you drove after my fatal heart attack, now that was wild. The
flowers, the A&R assholes I was supposed to give them to, the
Callio connections, and when you add it all up and then some, I could
really cry for poor King-Elv. I don't know if mister Patterson
Cheatley will ever tell me whether you put him or put me, through
more total hell. In any event, I suppose who really fucking cares,
you big lovely goddess? Since this hell started around me in 1986,
only the year of 1994 seemed to be magical. It totally cut me a
break. Things, Big things started to go my way in almost unfathomable
ways. Why? Because the Baseball Clubs went on strike, so there was no
Phillies season. Then in the autumn, the HOCKEY CLUBS went on strike,
so DUH, there was no Flyers Season, only there was, a small one, as
early in 1995, when the magical year of 1994 ended, a short hockey
season began, causing a three year doubling of the Dow Jones stock
market, and basically, the end of my life, via the search for the
missing teenager of my past; the most inconceivable nightmare to ever
rear its ugly head in all of recorded history. In any event, that
harassing illegal airplane is circling my building again, Federal
Aviation Administration. First at ten past fucking eleven and now
again at two past fucking one. Both times right around the Jane
Dirtball witchbitch whore time. Real fuckiGN dirt balls, if I do say
so me'self, maitees!!!!!!!!
|
Audience |
Well,
I haven't told 5% of how this wonderful great family, and you have it
all wrong people, sorry to say and no offense, but it might begin
with the hard sound like the word consonant itself, but we are
talking the 'K' letter here. This is where the power of this family
from the stars really lays all hidden in and throughout numerous
super secret parts and factions of the Exploratronic Supermind
Society (ESS)! You know it as sure as you are breathing right now as
you read these words or hear them spoken off of a medium that does
this word document files. There never was or has been a president
like him, and even Mister Dan Quale knows it, and probably cries over
that humiliation that he had to endure on that pitiful late eighties
day. I can relate Danny old buddy, but my point is, we all know I am
telling you the truth. Just as we all know that most of my blogaud as
I call them, are not mere world travelers, but indeed, are hyperspace
travelers. Hay, I don't care if you eat strawberry ice cream or
banana and cherry whip, or rock road or RAW. But we all can agree on
some common ground. Show me another Pres-35, go ahead. Show me
another Mariah Carey for that matter. You can't. This unfortunately,
is why I am, sarcastically of course;
enjoying this wonderful great terrific and marvelous 60+ years so
very much, here on this great planet. WHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!
“GONNA'
CRY BABY-DABY WINNY HICKS FLATLINERS, IF I TELL THE DETAILS OF THE
LAST WEEK OF SUPER SHIT THROWN AT ME?” PLEASE, NOT ON MY ACCOUNT!
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
I
have not even begun to tell any details about the hell that I brother
chucking endured last week at the hands of the
OTAMM-WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, with their evil APE-ICPE and PAWM-PIE-ETTOS.
ALL
YOU HAVE TO DO IS CLICK RIGHT NEXT TO THOSE LITTLE FREAKING BULLETS.
About me:
|
Gender
|
Male
|
|---|---|
|
Industry
|
|
|
Occupation
|
|
|
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
|
|
|
Favorite
Movies
|
|
|
Favorite
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. JEEEEEEEEEZ, sorry about
my bad ada Twinbay!
United
States Copyright Office Records, pasted in part:
COPYRIGHT CLAIMANT NAME: MARK WAYNE MOHR
ALSO,
WHY
DID THEY DO THIS TO ME, ERNIE MERKER?
MARK
WAYNE MOHR, AND HIS BLOG
Oh
good Lordess and a quarter, William Leonard McKinnon. Let's both
fucking grow up and get the shit out of Peterpanville,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It
was 83 and has dropped back to 81, but it feels like 86, at 1:27 this
Wednesday afternoon. Is this entire next part of trying to escape
Atlantic city all about Dawn King some may be wondering. The answer
would be, sigh of relief, NO, but some of it will be, in entirely new
updated light of course. Things change. People change. So we all need
to learn and grow, or adapt, even fucking Mountainpen. Thank you
Microsoft with that pretty light bulb of yours, yes, I have corrected
the double capital error, TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!
People; none of you
up here are stupid, whoever all of you are; and I think it is a well
diversified and quite intellectual group. When I said on Chapter 17
of my inability to ever escape Atlantic City Blog Book, that Dawn
would literally have to be indwelt by her very distant cousin, and
just hinted at it ever so dam slightly, I GOT REAMED AND PUMMELED
WITHIN HOURS, AG PAM BONDI OF FLORIDA, USA-ESMWG!
What
amazes me to dam death, is how dumb they must think that I am.
Don't they know that I am never sure of anything; and need to throw
out feelers; and then ''test for their reactions''; to quote the
great CCPO-ADA, Ron Wirtz, back in 1994; as he quoted this very
thing, over a pay-phone to me, when I was in Redbank, New Jersey, at
the park, on NO-NO-MERRY-DAY of 10-31-94? How really stupid is my
ENEMY, when you get right down to the full elucidated Linda Ronstadt
nitty-gritty, without the music or the band or even any stones or
ponies. W----O----W??!!
Hey folks, I figured
this was a powerful piece of knowledge, but then the major fuckiGN
attack on me that followed and resulted, merely added a few fucking
mega tons of luscious icing to the already scrumptious cake. Bake on
Donna Summer and Paula Patton. Two lovely dolls if ever there were
any, but one looks up and sees brown and another looks down and sees
green. That makes a world of difference, YO!
MARCH
10, 2015,
TUESDAY
AFTERNOON AT 4:01,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 82 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 63%, IT FEELS 85 DEGREES.
I
am sure their dirt ball stock market flew,
and will fly all week; after all that is being done to me. But in
spite of it, I
HAVE A MAJOR NEW ROULETTE SYSTEM, MIZZ AG BONDI.
I
TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE
CHAPTER
19
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2015
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR.
OH
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEIT, IS IT HOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW I HATE LIFE IN THIS
DAM HORRIBLE FUCKING WORLD; LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. WELL, IF THEY THINK
THEY'LL STOP ME WITH TODAY'S MONSTER ASS HORRENDOUS FUCKING ATTACK;
THEY
CAN THINK AGAIN!
It would take about three trillion of these things to stop me from
telling you all some shit that will really make you know my blogs are
beyond surreal, yet awesome and true, and I don't brag here, merely
as do the birds, I just go on flying, and swimming along with
Pool-Joan, without swimming of course, huh
ROG???????????????????????? When are you going to ever admit all you
did over the past 12.7 years, ''my friend''??????? Oh yes sir, about
three trillion of them, these, “The
Christ Android”, “The Christ Android”, “The Christ Android”,
“The Christ Android”, “The Christ Android”, “The Christ
Android” and if anyone thinks I am going to paste this in
3000000000000 times; then you're fruit cake material; cubed and
CUBAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
never told you a few things that the great Dawn-Marie king did to me
when I was in my room they had me in, over at Judge Rasu's home on
Middle Road near the K-Mart store, in Hammonton, New Jersey. Get your
mind of the sewer folks, nothing in that direction. But you know
something? When I tell these three things, and some shit that sort of
perfectly fits around it; you would say it would be far less of a
shocking story, if it was mind-sewer material. Like heaven, you can
wait a while; we'll get to this, Mister Rockford and pals. Oh
tis-tis-tis! Oh tis-tis-tis! Oh tis-tis-tis! Oh tis-tis-tis! Oh
tis-tis-tis! Oh tis-tis-tis! Oh tis-tis-tis!!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
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