HALLS
WALLS
CHAPTER
68
FOR
SOME TIME, I HAVE TRIED TO FIGURE OUT THE WAY THIS NEW HACK WORKS,
WERE INSTEAD OF READING WORDS I TYPED ON MY OPEN-OFFICE WORD DOCUMENT
FILE THAT I PASTE INTO THE BLOG WEBSITE, IT JUST COMES OUT LIKE:
S
It
is not as simple as you might think at first glance, into the
situation. A simple program that tells the system to use a reverse
font and highlight color would seemingly work, you know, green
font color and no highlight highlight
color. This way, they have another hack program put in a black
background color, and the words are then gone. But you see, there is
more to this, because if I retype an entire hacked area on a brand
new document page, and paste it into a new blog where until that
point, the hack is not there, it too is hacked. I suppose you have
noticed this, FBI Agent Steve Caruso, FCC Director Bob McDowell,
Sheriff Kenneth Mascara, Attorney General Pam Bondi, and other
authorities who may be watching and interested. So this is no quick
little written hack that takes Joe Black Hat about twenty minutes to
write and install, using tracking cookies to locate me when I post
blogs to the BLOGGER DOT COM WEBSITE. This also means, that those
things that are hacked, are absolutely done to keep me from normally
having this information on my blogs. Not everyone realizes what is
going on and sees a lot of black lines, and thinks, it is just
asshole me screwing up a blog, and no words are there, and they don't
think twice about checking with a simple two key command on their
keyboard, 'CONTROL-A' so that the missing and buried hidden print at
least highlights and becomes visible. All they know is this keeps my
information from coming out to the max, and that is the job of
whoever this hacker is that is doing this, in total violation of my
rights to free speech, of course.
I
do not talk much about my medical problem. It would be suicide. Any
attempts to survive that provide me any chance at all, involve my
doing all I can to suffer through this hell and slowly ween off of
the meds that my body needed for my situation and was getting on a
daily schedule, week in and week out, 28 Mg weekly of either Ativan,
or its generic cousin Lorazepam. Now for a month give or take, I have
been reduced 75% and am down to 7Mg weekly, just one milligram per
day. But that is not good enough, despite my being sick and week from
this. They want me off it completely, and are going to get their way.
This means I have to move to TJ Mexico. Everyone is telling me it is
dangerous. Well, it is inevitable that I will die a slow and horrible
death here in the United States, so I have no choice other than to
take my chances. If I do survive, don't think I won't do all in my
power to sue somebody someday with very deep pockets, for billions,
for doing this torturous hell to me.
I
thought I would wake up feeling better after taking my pill last
night, along with some other less effective so-called anti-anxiety
medicine that the shrink up in Vero has me taking. But to the
contrary, I woke up really fucked up. It was not the usual panic
attack, but just an overall feeling of being very ill from what this
is doing to me. In any real world, someone who is not a convicted
felon, could not be tortured to death. Even death row inmates are
not. Something is very wrong, and anyone out here reading this from
you President Bearhugs-Obama to the United States Attorney General,
to Governor Rick Scott, to Congressman Murphy; all know this without
me saying so much as one more word. You take this medical shit, the
ESS, all the claims of my nearly ten year long blog, and even the
2013 copyrighted techno-pop song, put it all together, and you KNOW
I AM BEING UP FRONT AND HONEST here when I say that something
is radically wrong. But I guess every gutless mother fucker out here
is just too scared to want to ever even think about attempting to
ever fucking assist me at all, so most likely, I will die a horrible
mother fucking death this year!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If
I need to be a martyr to prove that my incredible story of Morianity
is real and that I did not make it up for some twisted Earthly
reason; then so god dam be it, I swear!
It
was still quite hot after sunset tonight, but has cooled down a
little bit now as the day winds down towards its closing.
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THESE
FIGURES TAKEN 17 APRIL, 2015.
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My
soul is a dungeon. My world is an endless fire that consumes all that
is good and peaceful. It burns joy and contentment as fire gobbles up
gasoline. My enemies are with me, in a new form. Three thousand years
ago I hid in caves from Saul and remember many things. Too many
perhaps, but the one thing that if I had remembered it, my life would
have been so radically altered as a result, no words can exist to
ever tell the fullness of the story. My teen Goddess SSJKK would not
allow me to consciously remember her or her great city back when I
lived on this planet as King David. I remember vast amounts of my
life, parts that never made it anywhere near the historical accounts
and great holy words handed down generation to generation. I dare not
utter or speak any of these words. Living as I do now as Mark Wayne
Mohr, I have known for about twenty years, who I was so long ago. To
me though, it seems like dam yesterday, and my love for Jehovah only
grows passionately stronger with every hour that passes. I still
spend much of my time writing love songs for this wonderful and
beyond conceivable teen queen goddess, Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle.
Back then, we called them my musical devotions. They were as much my
love songs to her and for her, as the ones I have written in these
new age times. Sarah Krassle my beautiful love, I'll sing just how
much I love you. The stars, the trees, the songs of the wind, they
sing how you love me too. And every day you are not wit me I do not
know what I will do. As all of the stars in the sky cannot shine,
without you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
People
who have no memory of things much past fragmented slices after about
5-20 years, I truly envy. Not only do I remember my birth as Mark
Wayne Mohr, but I remember so many other lives I have placed my
energetic astral dream-downs into throughout both human history, and
way way way beyond and before that; in far away places, with a lot
more than just strange sounding names.
Now
if the paragraphs below do not come out, then just hit the CONTROL-A
and it will highlight and you will see it then.
SAILING
WITH MUSIC MAN CHRIS CROSS--CODE--R2J7
Without
sailing away in 1980 with Chris Cross,
or any other wild folks in the great music bizz, let's see if I can't
say a few things that might set things on their ear and their
asshole. Let's just see what we can do hear, in a short period of no
time! AHA-AHA MMCN! The story to me and music would require a Harvard
and a Yale education, all the way up to Doctorate Degrees; I assure
you all. I have told a few things such as Dave's drums and his dead
Cadillac car, and some others with both him and me. My latest musical
debokle being the shutting down of the Avalon Studio; the only place
local to me. Still, we'll be getting into some things I really feel
the need to blow some sheet covers off of, no matter who ends up
discovered all naked in the dam beds. Uh-oh Shark-shit Maco. Go paint
a car.
HOLY
SHIT, THE MARKET IS WAY LOWER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE!
DAWN'S
ESCAPE CAPER OF 7-11-08—CODE 6L2P
I
would bet that Einstein himself, if he was in Dawn's shoes, and in
her situation; could not have pulled this off; and he is supposed to
be Mister MIND the great. And I would also bet right now, double or
nothing; that he would not have been able to do this; and I would put
up and risk every last penny in my bank account, and that is not
much; but it will help me pay my car insurance, and eat a few more
meals this month. All of a sudden; Dawn gets her
hands on a magic lotion potion.
She rubs it all over her body, and 12 hours later; she is legally
declared contagious, with some undiagnosable skin condition; and must
leave the rehab-program, and this not being ''her fault'', her lawyer
was then able to successfully argue her case, and get the prison
sentence that was hanging over her, for non-compliance of the year at
the REHAB CLINIC; made null and void; and suddenly, there comes a
knock at my trailer door, on the eleventh night in July, in 2008. It
is Dawn's husband Lewis Laines, (Chicky) as he insisted on that
nickname, and with him, mommy-Ann; and they said, Mark, you need to
go to bed and stop your blogs, as you need to be over at our place at
7 in the morning, we are picking up my daughter at the Seacaucus
Rehab Clinic. I knew deep down inside, I was a dead man, just like
Walking Mike Patterson Vampire, down in Miami. A few nights before
this all went down, my mom appeared to me in a 'dream' and we were
all in a dollar-store, my mom and I, and Dawn, and her mom Ann King.
In
the early nineteen eighties, more happened to me than just inventing
a wild new music machine that put the Moog Synthesizer into a
dinosaur cave forever and ever. Within the range of two years of this
invention, called, ''KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL'', that was never talked
about, and kept secret from all my coworkers, friends, enemies,
associates, and you name it; because of its unexplainable side
effects, and my fear to share the story; as who would believe 90 or
more percent of it;
was what my mind was thinking. For about five and a half years since
middle two thousand eight, I have tried to tie things together
regarding the August 1986 quick light-switch alteration of my life,
in a period of hours and without any possible rational explanation;
and all that could ever be thought of regarding all of this horrible
nightmare, was that reality must exist in other places that the mind
visits and that so fat humankind is not aware of this truth, and
still just calls this dreams and dreaming, and those in charge of
mind and mental health remain clueless to where mind really comes
from and what it truly is, still to this very present day in 2014. I
began to know that after soul searching and talking to experts of
many fields, that my only possible explanation had to be right, and
the Marola Syndrome kicked in, the odds of such a thing being far
beyond winning lotteries in the hundreds of millions of dollars or
being struck five times by lightning, and along this line. Here was a
teacher of mine telling me repeatedly that one must always go with
the majority, as by doing this, you will at least be assured of life
being right for you more than it will be wrong. It sounds wonderful
on its face, but as with so many things in this imperfect ugly world,
just when you need your particular philosophy to kick in and help you
through a bad spot in your life, boom, it fails you miserably and you
crash hard onto the floor, bloody and mortally wounded. No one would
believe that I had the only answer that could fit this situation of
waking up on the fifteenth of August in 1986 to an entirely new and
hellish monstrous life, with no rational logical other way of seeing
it or explaining it, absolutely none at all.
I went to sleep, and the only thing that can explain what happened is
that when we sleep and dream, we are in a parallel universe, in
energy form, or M=E/C-SQ. This is the precise mathematical inverse of
a world famous formula, by Professor Einstein of the Princeton
University of New Jersey.
Now before moving this on to where it counts, we will need a
comparison point, so here it is. Every day we all get up and go
through the day, some good shit happens, some bad shit happens, and
plenty of in-between stuff happens. The sun comes up and it goes
down, day after day after bloody day, in or out of jolly old great
England! But one day somewhere in the future, our sun, a normal
average star in outer space, AKA ''the expansion'', will no longer
operate the same way, and will begin to grow larger and hotter and
the world will not exist any more. This is a long way off, so seeing
this absolute eventuality but in its proper perspective, is very
necessary for me to now continue discussing 1986, and what happened
to me on the night that changed my life forever. We all go into
dreams, and many do not remember our dreams, but they effect our
lives whether we remember any of this dream life at all, or not. And
should some incredible thing happen in one of these dreams, it could
be like the day the sun no longer works the way that we all have
become so accustomed to its normal behavior for so very long. Instead
of the whole world beginning to grow hotter and slowly watch
humankind and Earth dissolve away, it was only one person that was so
adversely effected. This would be me. I may not be dissolving away,
but my entire life totally changed overnight, and I might as well
have awakened in a world that slowly was melting and dying, as I have
been doing just that, in a cosmic way, ever since, for almost 28
years now. Just because this very rare thing happened to me on this
one particular night, it was because
of a DREAM EXPERIENCE,
and this particular one did indeed, DESTROY THE REMAINDER OF MY
ENTIRE LIFE.
This is reality, and 1000 'shrinkologists' can all laugh at me and
tell me I am totally incorrect, my life and my experience with this,
lets me know without a shadow of doubt, that I am right, and all of
these experts who think they know so much, are all wrong. So on blogs
to shortly follow, I am going to tell the long and beyond
unfathomable bizarre tale of this DREAM, that I indeed awoke out of
to begin this NEW-LIFE, of post AUGUST
15, 1986;
that my 8 years of these blogs have discussed quite negatively, over
and over and over again!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
really need to relax right about now, with a bowl of soup, and
sandwich, and a little fucking TV. So please move over Ronald Reagan,
WAYV-PK, and MC. TANKS!!!!!
One
droid to another, sir LURCH, and Misses Roddenberry, here is a little
poem for you.
OH
BOY, THRILL AND JOY. ANGELS AND MINISTERS OF DOCK MCCOY.
Yes,
I could say it nine times over, but no one ever likes to believe what
they cannot both explain rationally to themselves, as well as keep it
within their personal comfort cozy zone. This is another way of
saying that the GWPO SYNDROME will most likely remain very popular,
for a very long time yet to come, here on good old fucking
PLANET-EARTH!!!
YEAH
I KNOW, DENNIS SNYER, ''THAT'S JUST REALITY, SON''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TEN
TIMES FREAKING OVER, TOO, SO WOW!!!!
Better
not pout, Merry. Patty says next Halloween is cool, WEEEEEEEEEE!
Hold
the fucking MAYO, they want too much for their medical sandwiches,
YO.
Well,
I am going to go choke on all of this, Donald J. Trump!!!!!!!!!!!!
See you over at Cheltenham high, YO. SHEEEEEEEEEEIT.
I
need some quality care, but hold the dam mayo, I am a poor man. Screw
me, the poor don';t count for squat in this nation, President
Bearhugs, we both know that, my friend!!!!!!!!!
SILLWEE ME AND SILWEE WABBIT, I THOUGHT PEOPLE MIGHT JUST CARE!!!!!!!!!
My
life is one big fat ass fucking hell.
WOW,
the things I could say and tell, if the enemy would allow it. But
then, folks reading this don't really want to know. If they did, they
would make contact and want to meet in real life as the old computer
and internet lingo goes. Then I could blow anyone's open mind. No one
can blow a closed mind. Jesus raised the dead, yet the rich young man
was not impressed enough to sell his worldly garbage and follow him.
Nothing ever changes, just because pages on a fucking dam calendar
do.
WHAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA
MIKE MCNULTY!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
Do
the kids still call you baby, DELTA DAWN?
From
here to Brownsville, Texas, huh Helen?
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