Friday, April 10, 2015

HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER 46








































APRIL 10, 2015,

FRIDAY AFTERNOON AT 1:05,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

THE CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS 85 DEGREES FNHT.

THE HUMIDITY IS 61%, FEELING LIKE 90 DEGREES.

THE WIND IS ESE AT 14, GUSTING TO 22.

TODAY'S TEMPERATURE RANGE----(H-85/L-73).





















LIGHTNING LOCATION: YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU DIANA ARTEEMIS, MY BABY-BLOND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


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MARK WAYNE MOHR, MOUNTAINPEN, (THE BOM)





BLOGS----OF----MOUNTAINPEN














HALLS--------WALLS





CHAPTER 46


























This is more for my own files than anything else. Whenever memories fade or go in-between two possible things, such as what I discussed on recent blogs about whether I sent my music copyright project, that included the medical disaster, and my attempts to reduce a weekly ativan dosage from 28 down to 10 milligrams, and my discussing this with a very mysterious lab technician that was not normally at a particular throat specialists office; and the memory began to split in so far as much as I began pondering, was this right before or right after my train trip down to Orlando, Florida.







EVERY MOTHER FUCKING DAY, FCC BOB MCDOWELL, THIS COMPUTER IS BEING HACK-FROZEN, SIR, AND OLD 1972 PAL. I COULD USE SOME HELP HERE, JOHNNY FUCKER FASTER JOKESTER. THANK YOU!!!! IT IS NOW NINE HOURS LATER. IT IS NEARLY TWENTY PAST TEN THIS FRIDAY NIGHT. HERE IS WHAT IS HAAAPENING, DERRIJO EXXON!!!!










First off, it was very hot and humid today, and the next number of following days are forecast to be equally bad for this south central and deep central Florida area, here on this wovewee whittle pwanet. Another ''message'' was sent to me today and I am keeping totally quiet about it. This was done really cleverly, but there is absolutely no mistaking it. I stopped trying to fight the computer hack, and went out on some errands. When I came back home, I ate dinner and fell asleep for a while, and now I am here, blogging again. No, the message was not some ''dream'' as you would call it, it was right here in the real waking world, and happened while outside. Eventually, I may tell you more. For now, it wouldn't be a good idea.





































The day began real fucked up, here on another loud mother fucking puke day food day, here in good old noisy public fucking housing. Doors were slamming, and James and his peeps are back in the apartment across from me. Sometimes it is used for storage for months on end, other times it is lived in. Let me operate like this, and Sheriff Mascara would be over here to arrest me. Double standard life for me in this oppressive fucking empire, is something that I am totally fuckiGN used to after 60 years of imprisonment and hell on this horrible planet!































When I boarded the fucking elevator to go on my errands which won't be discussed; it took literally forever just to get down to the ground floor and out the main door to my car in the parking lot. The elevator stopped on every floor just about, and also, I had to wait and wait just to board it because someone was using it to transport a large object, and although there are two elevators, one seemed unresponsive throughout the entire ordeal.













As many of you may have Pennock-guessed by now; I bought electronic things, and put them together in similar ways that I had in Jersey; just not as much or as good as I once had. By the end of 2010, up in the hood at Twenty-Sixth and Avenue E, in the duplex that social worker April Lee, had me sharing with buttwipe Wendy, I had a little working area again, and even though I used Bonjovi, and his Avalon Studio, over in PSLFLUSAESMWG; for a short time to make actual recordings, at the behest of my transdimensional lab-tech-daughter; I also could do a lot of things on my own as well. LSS, unless those around me are as brain-dead as a washing machine, they know that several days ago, I was reexamining some tapes. Doing this seems to 'cause problems'. Exactly why I am unsure. No one in charge of this hell nightmare wishes to ever step up to the plate and directly consult with me on anything. Fine, then to quote the mighty 1969 Ziggy Malyeska, “That's the way it goes”, no ratings, no songs, just the dam facts ma'am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



















SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0211

KING NEBNOOSHOO

ALL TITLES AND SUBS APPLY

8:00 PM, FRIDAY EVENING, AUGUST 12, 2011

25 YEAR (NO-NO) COUNTDOWN ---- MINUS 74 HOURS, 30 MINUTES

COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN----2006-2011

ADDITIONAL SUBTITLE:

POPUP MOVERS AND GAME-PLANS”



BEGINNING OF THIS TRANSMISSION:



First we need to get into the simple truth that no ordinary reader, knows one percent of what is being talked about, so then cosmically, these blogs are not for ordinary readers. This needs to go to who it goes to, and after that, it is out of my hands, hmm, sounds a little biblical, oh, did I mention this all began as the project of the MORIANITY BIBLE FOR THE 3RD MILLENNIUM? Gee. I wonder Y? Like, DUH.



So in proceeding now with this, I will start with my Atlantic City Roulette days, when I gambled professionally, at the casinos of this 'great city', the human mortal-world counterpart of the GREAT CITY of DAVID, or known on the ASTRAL PLANE circles, as SAHASRA DAL KANWAL.



There was a time throughout the nineteen-eighties, where I WAS ALWAYS LOOKING FOR WAYS TO PLAY THE GAME OF ROULETTE, USING OUTSIDE BETS AND MONEY CHIPS, ON THE SIX LAYOUT BASIC 50-50 CHANCE BETS OF EITHER THE RED, BLACK, ODD, EVEN, 1-18, OR 19-36. All of this has been explained, and does most certainly exist on and throughout many numerous MOUNTAINPEN blogs over the past more than six years. The idea and object of playing MY GAME in THEIR CASINOS, was to make only a very few chips, you know, as the song says, “Take the money and run”.




Shall we examine this a little more now, nearly four years up here in the future??????????????










First, my new system that I am keeping totally hush hushed over, is FUCKING KICKING ASS!!!! Second, taking a small something and running, is an art form that cursed people must do in order to survive at all in this hell-nightmare, and being the fucking CHOSEN-HUNTINGTON, I rank right up there on the top of the cursed-list; I assure you, kind peeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.









































I have no choice but to move to TJ, MEX. I am planning this out and will be keeping my mouth shut about it. What I tell you now has nothing to do with the message given t me extremely cool and cleverly and you'll shit yourself someday if and when I eventually tell you about the details of it; but for right now, this next item has nothing to do with it. This is my just happening to run into a person today and having a powerful discussion. It seems, and I trust this person implicitly for two reasons that are obvious to anyone who claims to be somewhat logical in their thinking. First, they don't need money so they can't be bought, I am talking close to my cousin Donnie boys net worth. Secondly, he showed me something that proves it to my satisfaction. This person showed me proof that people are put on death lists, and in stages. One of the final stages is to set them up with medical conditions and then cut off their medications, ''legally''. It would take me too much trouble and I am too sick, to try to sue the USA in a court of law, and from what I have fuckiGN heard, nobody ever has won, suing the evil fucking government of this evil fucking nation and empire!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!














































Now I have been put on a medicine that may work for me a little bit and I will begin taking it shortly, and will have to keep my mouth shut. If it allows me to function, then I won't have to run off to Mexico, but if it does not, then I will, or I will die a slow agonizing tortured death, at the hands of evil mother fuckiGN government scoundrels, and I have the proof this is all real, and no delusion of psychotic illness.

























If my life didn't suck at light speed squared, it would be almost fucking THREE-STOOGE funny!






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I AM SURE THEIR EVIL MARKET IS AT ALL TIME RECORD HIGH POSITIONS. I HAVE NOT BOTHERED TO CHECK IT OUT, AND I COULDN'T MOTHER FUCKING CARE LESS. STILL, YES, I FUCKED UP AND WAS MIND-HACKED, AND I OWN IT. I SAID BLESS ME AND IT WILL GO UP AND CURSE ME AND IT WILL GO DOWN, AND OBVIOUSLY MEANT TO SAY; 'BLESS ME AND IT WILL GO DOWN, AND CURSE ME AND IT WILL GO UP'. SAHWEE.













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WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. There is a lot to tell, and baby love, I'll be fucking telling it. For right now, let me just open up a door, or maybe join the great Scylla Goddess in removing some Lakehouse door hinges completely. Ouch, those dam rocks Ann and Nick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





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Funny-funny-funny, huh Sheila Bigtits Franklin Hair? That magic stuff, huh Sampson Sarah. We know the dam ass diction, right?????????



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    Image result for images free funny faces



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I can feel lightning near me, and wonder if she is anywhere around? Sometimes I can feel her in a very localized parallel universe, watching over me even if it is sunny and clear in my universe around me, just as many times, I can feel my wonderful PEE!!!!!!!!!!





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Well, I can be silly all night, and it won't prove a lot, so it is time to be Mike Jack 1980 'serious' or maybe it was a couple years later, but still, AHA-AHA-AHA------------Mister McNulty!











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    Image result for images free funny faces
  1. Image result for images free funny faces
  2. Image result for images free funny faces
  3. Image result for images free funny faces










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