HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 99
FUCK
THE WORLD. I HAVE NEVER EVER HAD LIFE THIS CUNT CHEWING MOTHER
FUCKING MISERABLE; AND I HAVE GONE THROUGH SIXTY YEARS OF FUCKING
SHIT, THAT IS ON PAR WITH BEING IN SUPER MAX FED LOCK UP GEN POP, OR
EVEN WORSE, HELL ITSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
All
day ass long; my noisy jerk off nabes and their ''guessing game
illegal guests'' have been banging doors and playing music,
thank the gods, not too loud. But this fucking wing ding shit started
at seven this pussy huffing morning and has been going on and cunt
chewing strong, ALL DAM FUCKING DAY NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
If
I don't stay right by a phone, I am the bad guy. I have a very
demanding group of people that I need to depend on since I have lost
my health. When they call, I better get back pronto, but if I call
them, I can just wait for them to get around to calling me. I could
mother fucking complain about dozens of major ass things, but why
fuckiGN cunt bother, YO???????????????????
No
one would believe my nightmare hellish existence in a trillion
trillion trillion cunt chewing fucking dam ass
eons!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I still am willing to negotiate,
and keep my word. Enemies know what is being said and that I will
know within 24 hours, if they will allow me to go on living or not. I
cannot be more specific than this. It would be 1000 times more
hazardous to my dam ass health than all of the cigarette smoking in
the cosmos ever could be!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
mouse jumping fucking hack is starting up, FCC Bob McDowell, pal and
sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I do not get my hopes up for much, but if they
allow me to live, I will not continue down this road of telling it
all. I won't strop blogging, but they know what is being said here,
huh Regis and Rippa? They all know so dam perfectly well.
APRIL
29, 2015,
WEDNESDAY
EVENING AT 8:21,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 81 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H-88/L-71).
WIND
IS WSW AT 5, WITH GUSTING TO 21.
HUMIDITY
IS 72%, AND IT FEELS LIKE 86 DEGREES.
There
is no mother fuckiGN way in hell, that anyone paying close attention
to cable and network television, music over the past 35 years, and
shit in general run by the EW, that everything claimed in these BOM
is not 100% true and real. It takes one hell of a brain to see and
put it together, gash shit, don't mean to fuckiGN go Braggadocio City
here, sahwee BRAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
A
little voice is screaming at me to paste in SAFE JOURNAL CHAPTER 600,
why I haven't the foggiest fucking ass notion, and to that I swear on
my eternity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let's pull it up.
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER # DC
KING
NEBNOOSHOO
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BSNF:
“FLORIDA WAS A MISTAKE, BUT WHAT THEN
WAS
THE ANSWER, OH GREAT SWAMI COSMOS”?
©
2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR, AND ALL AND ANY
SHARED
CAPS, AND URLS, NOT MY OWN PROPERTY, IS
EXCLUDED
FROM THIS COPYRIGHT CLAIM
WORLD
LABORATORIES ® OF 2294
SBT-DATFILE:
X-XIX-XII.CCLXXXVIII FRIDAY MORNING
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
Well
good folks, I took a nap and woke up, and will try to sleep some more
later on if possible. As my mom said, you can sleep in heaven. This
is total bullshit. You never sleep on the Astral Plane, you do
eventually tire after many numerous interactions, and fall downward
into dreams or what you think of while reading these words, as this
waking material tangible life, so sleep is a very powerful illusion.
We fall asleep all over the hyperspace, only to wake up as a
TYPE-1-EXPLORATRON, living through either a parallel world you, or
some other entity or thing from another parallel universe. Still, mom
said it so nicely, and all though far from true, it is kind of cool
to dwell on. The most feared thing in the hyperspace by the humanoid
entity, is endless sleep, and here in real truth, you simply exist at
void, without space, without time, in a dimension called existence.
From there you dream out and away from this onto the Astral
Plane. This never starts, and this never ends, yet folks
live in terror of extinction. This I suppose could be rationalized as
the ultimate irony of life and cosmos, and really, life and cosmos is
so filled with ironies that I would not even know where to begin to
list them all. We drive on parkways, we park on driveways, we take
turnpikes that are way straighter than roads that curve and turn, we
think this side of the bedsheets is the realest truth where we are
real and awake, we think the sun goes around us and the world is
flat, we know better through head knowledge now in present times, but
still, the heart knowledge will always insist on perceiving all of
these illusions forever.
I
remember being with Diana Arteemis at a lovely waterfall,
that was very bright purple, with lots of copper color boulders at
the bottom, where the falls dropped into a large round lake that in
the distance led off into a downward flowing stream with noisy
powerful rapids that headed towards an even more distant large
waterfall system beyond that. We were 40 miles from any Astral City,
and this city was surrounded by thousands of small yet densely
populated little villages. The great Ziegler Mall is located about
67,000 miles away from the area, a place that Diana loves more than
most other malls, but I do not let her wander that far from the
Ricktown Manor by herself, it is about 400 million miles from home,
and would take her nearly an hour if she jogged all the way there.
Distances are very great on the Astral
Plane, but only as part of the interactions that entities
set up. Through controlled tranced meditations, soon, I will be able
to go back onto my bed and put myself right back into the same
interaction with my beautiful giant coil, or Lightning, as if I never
got up for a cocoa break, and killed fifty million filthy fucking
cock roaches in my kitchen. Looks like the poison is all gone from
the lay-around combat squares, so tomorrow it is back to the fucking
dollar store to throw away another three dollars, and all because the
building is nothing like Atlantic City Public Housing, and refuses to
enforce the codes and lease regs. In Atlantic City, these ass holes
across from me would have been out on their fucking asses ten months
ago.
It
is predawn, but starting to get light here in northeastern Fort
Pierce, Florida, low seventies and moderate humidity, but I am hot
and plan to lower my air conditioner down to about 70 just for a few
hours so I can wake up icy cold and shivering, and then I can shut it
off until middle late afternoon, when I may need to take the edge off
the heat as it rises in the apartment slowly this time of the year,
and because I was lucky enough to be in a northern exposure facing
unit, lucky, yeah right, what is lucky about these pricks from across
the hall, YO?
Yes,
Quantum Physics always fascinated me and so did the game of roulette
ever since fucking George Belton taught it to me in December of 1982.
I'm a very powerful frikkin believer in the saying that all things do
in fact happen for a reason, most of the time, that reason is
discovered well into the range of 20/20 hindsight, making little or
absolutely no sense whatsoever in real time when shit is going down
around us. Well, I'll change that to me, and just speak for myself.
Putting words in other folks mouth is offensive, and is a great way
to receive a free facial rearrangement, not to necessarily make one
prettier, but uglier. Hell, I am ugly enough, you see my photo. I
look the very same now as I did in that oh-four photo eight years
ago. Well peeps, it seems only fitting that I should be in the 600's
now on this SAFE JOURNAL BLOG, as in Roman Numeration, the number 600
is DC, and right out in the very near future, is perhaps the greatest
election ever held on the planet. Hay, I am a Libertarian, but be
real, Alex old buddy, we all know that only a R or a D
can get in right now, so why vote for gasoline wasters? I will only
speak for me, but gasoline prices are very high and not about to
lower a lot any time real soon. Round trip from this building to
where I would go to the local voting poll is about 7 or 8 miles or at
least a dollar of my gas money. If I am gonna' pay a mother fucking
dollar, it will not be to do something that has a zero percent chance
of profitable errand potential. I go out and try and kill 3 or 4
birds, you know, pick a route, buy gasoline, buy food, hit an auto
parts store for a can of oil, come home. I have a pretty good chance
of successfully completing some part of what I set out to do on a
maximum ten mile trip from door to door. Show me how to vote a
libertarian president in, Alex, and any of my Libby friends, and I
will walk to the fucking polls, YO. I am too old to waste time on
stuff that is just fairy tale shit for me with no chance whatsoever
to have one bit of an effect in the real world. Show me how I am
wrong, comment, call me, I am in the book, why is this world so dam
unfriendly? Hell even my frikkin daughter hates my guts, crissake, it
makes you want to live to be about three.
OK,
time to close now, if you're praying folks and want to pray to SSJKK
or GOD, whatever, for me to not have another frikkin super BOTBAR
day, please do so. Right back at you with a prayer of my own,
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
ENDING
THIS TRANSMISSION, YO!
Major
hacking and mouse-jumping, Bob FCC McDowell, old pal, YO, wanna' help
me out here???????
SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM;
FRIDAY I GO CRYING TO DEBBIE MAROTTO, MY
RESIDENT MANAGER, AND I AM GOING TO GO OVER TO SEE SHERIFF MASCARA AS
WELL. THIS IS MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' GOING TO STOP, YO YO YO YO YO YO, OR
ELSE, YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONICCCCCC
PUNISHMENT
DESTRUCT, ALL GENERAL ORDERS, ALL CODED GENERAL ORDERS, BOTH
TECHNOLOGIES, ADT AND ZDT, I AM MAXING YOUR POWER PULL GAIN OUT AND
ALL CONTROLS AGAINST YOUR PPG SYSTEM. SCAN AND DESTROY ALL PEOPLE
AND THEIR LOVED ONES, WHO ARE MAKING MY LIFE A LIVING NIGHTMARE
MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
S—T—O—P!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It
is perdy dern difficult to have peace when the most powerful gods
on the Astral Plane make your interaction in hyper fucking space a
never ending living burning breathing nightmare hell.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
AND NOT THE DAM TV, GLEE,
OR UNCLES ON BENDING KNEWW FROM NINETEEN-EIGHTY THREE, TEE-HEE-HEE.
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 98
APRIL
29, 2015,
WEDNESDAY
MORNING AT 10:41,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 77 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-----(H-77/L-71).
HUMIDITY
IS 76%, FEELING LIKE 82.
WIND
IS SSW AT 6, GUSTING TO 14.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
BOY
OH BOY OH BOY BRAD MESSENGER AND DANGEROUS FIELDS AND FRIENDS OF
MOTHER'S, AND SO MUCH MORE; WHERE'S MY DAM MONEY TONY HADDONWOOD
ZENUN? I OWE A FUCKING DIM E TO THE GREAT RICKY DIVIS FROM HADDON
TOWNSHIP HIGH SCHOOL, AND EVERY PENNY FUCKING HELPS,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lots
of strange fuckign shit is going on. The computer and the Blogger
page is not updating the 'Leprechaun photo cams' at TWB,
for the weather map and the Jupiter Inlet Cam, still showing up
frozen at pre dawn hours of today. But that is only one thing, there
are several weird fuckiGN things happening that it is better
for me to just shut fucking up about,
for right now any way, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHA-AHA-AHA MIKE MCNULTY,
YO.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015
©
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)
HALLS
WALLS,
CHAPTER
98.
THE
WEATHER BUG,
In Partnership With
and
shared by this blogger, who may be contacted through:
Local Weather Cameras
Fort Pierce, FL 34950
THIS
WEATHER MAP IS COURTESY OF THE WEATHER BUG (TWB)
AND SHARED ON THE BOM.
Now,
the word program has changed the ''magic leps'', and shows current
time, but as stated, for reasons I do not know; the Blogger site is
still showing a frozen time from earlier before sun up today. Like
WOW, RHM!
Jupiter,
Florida, welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel
12-Television,
ALONG
WITH THE GREAT WEATHER BUG APP, WEEEEEEEEEEEE!
A
small AT&T phone squeal around stock market opening time was on
my phone, and some doors are starting to get annoying over the past
several minutes out in the 'hall', and beyond the 'wall'. Also,
there are extremely weird circumstances that I don't dare tell
anyone right now, but it is why I am blogging what I am blogging
about recently. Holey mother fucking Moley Moley Ringworm scratch
non copyrighted 18 numbers. Keep it -2 and sweet,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Who the fuck ever heard of a boys-only
sweet-16 party, SSJKK????????????? Talk about guys losing their
mind!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE there
Surfer-Fonty.
|
Audience |
|
IT'S
GONNA' BE ALL RIGHT, IN THE MORNIONG LIGHT, OR THE EVENING TIDE. I
GUESS I COULD CHANGE THE SONG LYRICS TO, ''WOW WHAT A RIDE, IN THE
EVENING TIDE''; BUT LET'S KEEP SHIT NON-X-RATED, AND NOT TOO DAM
ADULT AROUND HERE, HUH HERMAN MUNSTER????????
Yes
sir Mister Deedee Anderton of the greatest law show ever in the
history of television, “L&O”, to quote you sir,
WHEN
IT STARTS, ''IT
STARTS''!
THE
GREAT AWESOME TWB,
YOU GOTTA' LUVEM!
No
peeps; this
is a quick honest discussion on how I died several times at my
Cifaloglio job,
killed
perhaps by covert agencies screwing up my heart rhythm.
I'll never most likely know this. Neither will you. But I can
discuss what I do know, lads and lassies, YO! So let me, and don't
laugh!
I
will love this all mighty entity endlessly, but she has caused me a
lot of grief in this lifetime since my mom dropped me on my head on
the street, outside her Philly home in early 1956, where she lived
at her parents place with her hubby and my dad, at 440 South 50th
Street, Mister Microsoft Light-Bulb, oh great mighty
Google-Microsoft folks. WOW THAT and a super-WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! Yes
I will love you endlessly my giant teen queen goddess, Sarah
Krassle!!!!!!!!!!
|
||||||||||||
I JUST LOVE COMPUTERS AND INTERNET, HA HA HA HA HA
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA AHA AHA MIJE MCNULTY.
|
||||||||||||
MEOW-MEOW-MEOW-MEOW
I HAVE LOTS OF QUESTIONS
FOR YOUR PAL, GAWKY GAUKAUK!
I
CLICK ON TWB TRAFFIC CAMS AND THEN TRY TO GET TRAFFIC CAMS FOR
ATLANTIC CITY IN NEW JERSEY AND THEN BABYLON IN NEW YORK, TO ADD TO
MY BLOG. NO DICE, FOLKS. NOTHING MOTHER FUCKING EVER WORKS, SO YOU
GO WITH WHAT THEY GIVE YOU!
MOTHER
OF GODDESS, LIFE SUCKS A HARD PRICK, LADIES AND GENTS!!!!!!!!!
It
is 7:32 in the dam ass morning, 27 electrical number, in month
number four, (April), in twenty-fifteen, BRAH. Oh
SHEEEEEEEEIT!
How
my father, as well as Dawn King, could slide
that old 'shit' word. But then, my ex-nabe Stanley was real
good with that as well. Boy do I have a lot of noisy fucking jerk
off nabe-guests back here again. It all started while I did that one
particular blog where I was talking about the magic of doing
something and it causes other things, almost instantaneously, over
and over and over, to the point where coincidence about it being
absolutely mother fucking disproved, unless peeps really want to
just be total jit bags about refusing to see reality.
THE
WONDERFUL (TWB), SHARED BY ME,
THE
MOUNTAINPEN (BOM).
All
Photos
/
You'll
all eventually be doing an Elizabeth Collins Stoddard, with those
ringing coffin bells, as you wake up from the dead, inside a box,
buried alive!!! Like mother fucking ass wow,
RHM! Psychologist???? Are
we all fucking fired yet, CUZZ??????????????????
TANSTALKER
AND MOUNTAINPEN DIALOGUE:
Enjoy,
folks.
SUP
TANSTALKER, I THINK GOOGLE-MICROSOFT THINKS THAT WE ARE GOING TO
TALK ABOUT SUPERgirls OR MAYBE POST UP PHOTOS OF GRAND CHILDREN. WOW
THAT SIR CHOKER DARIUS.
GET
A DAM LIFE, MOUNTAINPEN.
CRISSAKE,
YO , MY PROBLEM IS MY LIFE. I WOULD LIKE TO LOSE A DAM LIFE,
KITTY-MYOW!
GROW
THE FUCK UP, YOU ASSHOLE.
THAT'S
FUCKING EASY AS SHIT FOR YOU TO SAY PAL OF KITTY GAGA .
SHEEEEEEEEIT!!!
I'LL
HAVE GAWKY CHASE YOU UP ON TOP OF A BIG VAN AGAIN OR BETTER STILL,
MAYBE SICK BIG PAULA THE SLEEPWALKING T3E ON YOU, YO.
WHY
BOTHER GAGA-PAL TANSTALKER? MY ILLEGAL GUEST NABE IS DRIVING ME
FUCKING NUTS TODAY, AIN'T THAT ENOUGH, WITH THIS ENDLESS SLAM SLAM
SLAM SHIT, KITTY-DUDE?
Who
dya think just went into these assholes to make them fuck with you,
fat-ass Mountainpen, YO? The more you talk about the ESS, the more
they'll keep fuckiGN punish you, & you know that ya' dick head!
Oh
yes, these mother fucking jerk offs over there are going to be bad
today, but it is Wednesday, and some Wednesday's, my Resident
Manager, Misses Debra Marotto is here at the building, so if this
fuckiGN shit keeps up bad, I am heading straight down to complain,
Sheriff Mascara of my county, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMagnesonic
will be deployed again also, unless this fuckiGN shit backs off,
Mizz AG and SHFF. WOW THAT. No law in this in-between Goldilocks
zone-time can stop me, it falls under protected free speech, any
commands I give to MAGGIE. 200 years from now I would be
warlock-burned, and 100 years from now, I would be evaporated for
using ADT and ZDT illegally. Today in 2015 and back in 1983 when I
built the fucking machine initially; peeps are just thinking about
old days pesticide and an alarm company, WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!!!!
HALLS WALLS, CHAPTER
97
A while back, I was minding my own business and an
evil man walked into a guard house, by the name of Jimmy Stone, and
he fired me. I had done nothing to this bastard, and he just fired
me. It was straight out of Mickey Walker at Mars of 1977, only this
was on the first day of a whole other month, not July of 1977, but
September of 2004.
This was not some random event. All things all
connect up. Most people do not have a clue because they never stop
and look back and see a bigger picture of shit in hindsight. It is
there in all of our faces. Any of us can see this truth as plain as
the nose on our faces. Yes, 27 years and two months after the
nightmare of Mickey firing me at Mars, came Jimmy firing me 'for
real' here in this universe while 'awake'. 326 months from that
horrible 'nightmare-dream' in 1977, or really maybe about closer to
330 months, as the dream was sort of like a premonition about the
coming July first, a few months yet to come. All of this fits into
huge shit that time doesn't allow me getting big time into right
now.
Firing me is part of all of this, and this story
involves a double murder and many other things, but again, I cannot
begin to think about getting into it all right now. So I will talk
in a quick 'book report' type of way and just relay a few facts for
now that can all be tied together much better, later on. Jimmy had
to fire me from this job. Jennifer Washburn had to get me into
another job about 28 weeks later. This would be the Cifaloglio
place. This all had to happen. Not in all universes, but in the one
where I type out this blog right now. But there was a character
along with some people in his circle, who were all from the former
job up in Florence Township, that I can prove a connection to with
some folks at this new job. No one who doesn't live in New Jersey
can relate, but folks, this is a densely populated state by anyone's
terms and definitions. The odds, of so many people in my life, all
seemingly connected, no matter how many miles of separation exist
in-between these various spots; are astronomical to say the very dam
least. One day in 2007, and around the time that I sent the music
project to the © Office, on Halloween day of that year, called,
“Same Title”; and actually was not called that, but the ©
Office named it that for complex reasons, that again, time would
never begin permitting me to get into the dam ass specifics about
with you; but around this date somewhere, was what I called the
Cifaloglio Magazine Incident or the CMI for short. Someone at this
work site, knew that I, the weekend guard, would pass through an
area on clock rounds, and see it opened up to a particular page,
unless I was blind as a bat. I sat down and looked at it after
hitting my key, and it contained some powerful stuff, that at the
time, made some but little sense. Most of it was about Donna Summer
the late disco artist, and some of it was about MC, not MCI. But all
of this, and a big truck load of Baskin Robins Ice Cream; would not
come close to revealing all of the powerful cosmic nuances involved
in all of this. Approximately two years later, the same person that
arranged for my finding this magazine that weekend night while on my
guard duty; learned through the work site grapevine, how I had come
into the garage and got talking to a dude named Bill along with a
couple of his coworkers, and was telling how I was getting fed up
with a truck driver who was always screwing with me, and I showed
them what I might have to do to this person should the harassment
not be stopped, and I leaped into the air like in a Chuck Norris
movie, and gave a double kick to the side, like that dumb new dog
flea commercial where the dog kicks the flea from mid air. But this
led to the making of a whole other TV commercial, one for the great
American Telephone and Telegraph Corporation, or AT&T. Shortly
after I started at this place, a brand new run was started, and
Atlantic City had been added to the route of various trucks that
went places to perform services. The first man hired to do this run,
the deer hunter, Anthony, was friends with many of my Atlantic City
enemies in the local political system, and also friends of the owner
of the place, and was related by marriage I am pretty sure. This
family has a lot of roots up near my wonderful Aunt Ruth and Uncle
Heinz lived, the great Woodie Guthrie Island of New York. After I
copyrighted my music project that I did there one night, called,
“Karaoke Lunch-break at the Sorian 18 Guardhouse”, that the
Copyright Office removed the number-18 from the title for powerful
reasons; again folks no time to get into all of this right now; but
this is when the great Delmo Cifaloglio removed the guardhouse, and
made the guards work outside in our vehicles again, the way it was
at the start of the job, only now, the place being much busier, this
was illegally precarious and deadly ass fuckiGN dangerous. Huge
trucks rolled around me like I was dog-shit, and it was a very scary
place to fucking work. Right before it was removed, I was balled out
by the boss while his daughter who was in the car and loved to
always stare at me, was doing that again, and it was very
embarrassing to say the fucking least. Also, I didn't deserve the
man's grief. My reports were detailed unlike Roy Carl Weiler Senior,
the other rotation security guard, the two of us would relieve each
other all weekend long. All that man ever wrote was the hour and
''all secure''. Let me tell you folks, nothing is ALL SECURE. Any
guard worth his or her salt knows that. My reports were detailed and
accurate and I was all over that place looking for shit that was out
of order. In guard duty, it is always better to catch something
early so as to avoid much bigger grief that would result down the
line should one not choose to act in such a manner. Long Story
Short, or LSS, I have any reason to know even though I do not have
court acceptable evidence, that Deer-Hunter-Anthony was the key
enemy there, as ever since he came and that Atlantic fuckiGN City
run began, the job that was quite nice before that, turned into
nothing but shit, grief, and hell. He was behind many spurious and
bad shit that I had to deal with and contend with for nearly a half
decade that I had to interact with him. But the real story about
Cifaloglio is that if you crashed into a tiny quick cat nap, or if I
did and I did and will admit to it, boom, the uninduced astral
projections were major, and on top of that, even just regular quick
hyperspace experiences were major as all shit as well. I saw a lot
of shit that all came to pass, here in waking life, just from a
quick crash here and there, and 'dreaming' something that came to
pass in future times ahead of me, here in 'waking life'.
Now some of you know that when I talk about the old
job before Cifaloglio, the dude who was very mysterious and claimed
to be an Olympian God, named Psyche Myrathus from the Great Ring
River to the Province one away from Province Olympia; and two
friends of his, all knew some friends of this driver-Anthony from
the new job. But to keep this all going, I had the WAYV crew, and
of course their queen, the great PAULA Somnambulist KING. I totally
believe that Paula is one and the same person that worked with my
mom, because they share some wild things in personal life besides
being dead ringers to each other physically. The odds that I am
wrong on this huge covered up secret are millions to one, minimum.
Fascination with hidden things is just a part of their similarities,
believe me folks. I am not buying into about fifteen other things
here, from her choice of male suitors and reasons for those wild
decisions, to Aunt Shark Ruth Nightmares of Gloucester, to
punishments, to ages all being exact, and as I said peeps, I could
go on making this list, checking it ten times, and wouldn't even
need her wild spurious friend, Santa, to be involved in this mix.
Sarah herself came to me in her wild sports car,
while I was in an out of body experience the day after 2006
Christmas at just past five in the morning, at that Cifaloglio
place, but shit doesn't stop there. Where did I have interactions of
hyperspace, with Darius from the Harvest? You got it folks. Good old
Cifaloglio. We were standing where they wanted the guard to park and
sit in his car. He suddenly grabbed me and lifted me up, as Darius
is almost seven feet tall and built muscularly. He then went onto
say to me, “You never liked me”. I was flabbergasted, and didn't
know what to say back, in that 'wild dream' from 2011. It happened
either shortly before or shortly after he came over here to do that
music stuff to my computer, I think it was before but don't want to
swear to it. Normally my memories are clear as a dam bell. Here I go
again, is someone doing a 1983-1984 hyperspace equation deal with
me, again, YO?
Go ahead and tell me that my life isn't so wild,
that it literally makes the dam ass African jungles appear tame in
comparison! Just go the hell ahead, kind ladies and gents!
SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
APRIL
29, 2015,
WEDNESDAY
MORNING AT 3:55,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 73 DEGREES FNHT.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
HALLS
WALLS
CHAPTER
96
APRIL
28, 2015,
TUESDAY
NIGHT AT 10:27,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 76 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-----(H-77/L-69).
HUMIDITY
IS 82%, FEELING LIKE 80.
WIND
CALM, AND GUSTING N TO 17.
Earlier
in the day, LIGHTNING was around again, and as always, she was so
lovely and beautiful. It never got hot today, but for some weird
reason, I was hotter today than any time it was feeling 90-100
recently. My body is probably all screwed up.
The
fate awaiting all flesh, is my only salvation.
To quote the great Father Lucci, in the fantastic movie from 1988,
speaking of copyrighted musical projects; called, “The
7th
Sign”;
I know I can count on man for that, so now I win. Yes, free at last,
drums beating in both decades, blacks in or out of the military, and
exploratrons chirping wildly in their signal energy dot states, oh
great lovely Maggie; hallelujah I will be free at last, Martino
King, great sir!!!! AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA MIKE MCNULTY. Yes a real
''win-win' to quote you from about 2003 somewhere, right Dock Hagar?
SO WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
know that this is very old news, yet it cannot help to remain fresh
and new. Why you ask me maybe folks? Because no one is listening. No
one is getting any of it. If they were, a million or ten million
would be my page-hit count by tomorrow, noon. It takes no rocket
scientist here to see very basic fucking shit!!!!!!!!! So looking
old or new or RAW, here it is, forever REAL, forever TRUE, forever
the main teaching of Morianity:
EVERYTHING
IN THIS UNIVERSE, AND MULTIVERSE, AND EVEN BEYOND; IS ALL ABOUT ONE
THING, FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
EXPLORATRONICS*****
This
is something that I wish Dennis Snyder from up in Jersey were here
to quote for me, only he is not. So I'll just quote him anyway,
regarding Exploratronics.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015
©
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN (BOM)
HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER
96
Anyone
who hears me say at my grave site, “Boy do I
miss this life”, is in need of either an audiologist, or a
psychiatrist specializing in schizophrenia. Holy freaking ass
KALI-Callio.
If
anyone
can find me PEE,
it is e-bay
genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!
If
anyone
can find me PEE,
it is e-bay
genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!
If
anyone
can find me PEE,
it is e-bay
genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!
If
anyone
can find me PEE,
it is e-bay
genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!
If
anyone
can find me PEE,
it is e-bay
genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!
If
anyone
can find me PEE,
it is e-bay
genius you. PLEASE!!!!!!!
As
always, lovely Diana,
your moon was with me all night long, shining down and loving me,
awesome goddess. IWALU so, and I need your codes to show, MY
WONDERFUL LIGHTNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAA.
Strange
shit is going on, as always, and (behind the OZ CURTAIN!!! “Oh
well”, Dad and Sammy Montgomery. SHEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!
Go
wash my fucking mouth out with soap, cousin of newscaster Les
Kaiter. See if I care. WHAAAAAAAAAAA.
Put
that
on your blackboard;
David
Leigh Smith,
back in 1970, at
the GAP Cooley Wormhole Hall!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TOPIC—LIFE
POINTS—COMMENT CODE FZ36
LIFE-POINTS,
is
another
place that we dare not go today, as first, we would be all day and
then some; and second,
I
DON'T DARE SAY
ALL
THAT I REALLY WANT TO RIGHT NOW. JUST BELIEVE THIS PLEASE, GOOD
PEOPLE. THANK
YOU SO VERY MUCH!!!!
Life
points are like like location strong holds of the Milituforce
enemies. There are times as well as places, where it matters to
them, that attacks are done to me at those times and at those
places. They know something I don't, but then, I know things that
they don't. Still, is this life-point deal stuck in three
dimensions? Can this also be a 5-D situation? Hey friends and
fiends; guess what? When you become aware that memories can expand,
they do. When you become aware that life is fifth dimensional, it
is. Of course this applies to all of the multiverse. In fact, it is
why towel seepage works the way that it does.
The
magic behind a lot of things can be done with a loose-leaf notebook
filled with paper, and one ordinary 52-card playing deck of 89 cent
cards. A master sheet of paper can turn one deck into hundreds of
them. From this, simple random experimentation can be done to prove
all of the major things that my Morianity has ever spoken of and
about. The problem as Dennis Reality Snyder put it up at my
Cifaloglio job in Jersey, is this. People may just have enough spare
time to read a blog like mine, but bno more. Without taking step-2,
it is never made real to them. He told me a long time ago, I am
wasting my time. Only time can be the absolute judge of whether he
is correct, or Eddie Lynch is correct. Still, I plan on discussing
these 300 decks of playing cards that I have, and just from one
actual deck. I plan to show how I did things that proved a lot of
stuff I discuss beyond doubt or reproach. But alas, no one will
believe sight unseen, and just about no one has the time to try for
themselves. I have to wonder if this entire mess isn't another very
cruel mother fucking circuit inside this upline gamogram-simulation,
called (creation) by most folks.
You
water-witch,
CALLI-KALI-CALL
TEN CALLIO!!!!!!!!
It seems that even AT&T is ahead of the curves of all of the
drumming songs, Jesus Christ!!!!!!!!!!!
My
blogs
THE
WEATHER BUG,
In Partnership With
and
shared by this blogger, who may be contacted through:
Local Weather Cameras
Fort Pierce, FL 34950
Yes
King David, Talk
about wanting to freaking wash your hands!
Holy
mother of fucking goddess, I assure you, my pants are not on fire;
but
I am done.
You
missed me JANE MONSTER-SLAPPER WITCH-BITCH!!!!!!!!!!! HA-HA-HA-HA.
Tell her McNulty.
I
don't know about the midnight train to Georgia, or the Georgia Font,
but I do know about a ballpark, a year that was called 1993, and a
mean spirited horrible witch who damaged my life beyond repair with
that zoom-in clock attack on television, by her and her rotten prick
hubby broadcaster network owner, Mister Shithead Teddy Turner, YO YO
YO YO!!!!
THIS
WEATHER MAP IS COURTESY OF THE WEATHER BUG
(TWB) AND SHARED ON THE BOM.
Jupiter,
Florida, welcomes you to Morianity, Courtesy of Channel
12-Television,
ALONG
WITH THE GREAT WEATHER BUG APP, WEEEEEEEEEEEE!
MARK WAYNE MOHR AND HIS BLOGS
JANUARY 2006-APRIL 2015
2006-2014 ©
MOUNTAINPEN
© MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED, 2015
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You forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super
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NEBNOOSHOO,
THE WASHCLOTHS HAVE .
www.firstpost.com
› Topics
Dedicated
to Nina's daughter and her three friends in 1997 who followed me
down Tennessee Ave. in Atlantic City, all the way to the future
mayor's lifeguard tower.
Fort
Pierce, FL
- Fort Pierce, FL
About
6,160 results (0.30 seconds)
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Audience |
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Serenity
can be wall to wall, but when it ain't in your dam heart, you're
fucking screwed!
It
is perdy dern difficult to have peace when the most powerful gods on
the Astral Plane make your interaction in hyper fucking space a never
ending living burning breathing nightmare hell.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
|
I
have noticed a powerful constant, to use a physics expression and
applying it to ''real life'', that when a huge fuckiGN crossroads is
right around the corner, and it is; things not only get as dark and
as bad as possible, but the blog stats and page-hit count, drops off,
just when shit should be in fact, by normal world standards, going
the other way. Those
old enough to remember when the TV hit show was originally aired,
called DALLAS, in 1979; remember how after the season ended and JR
being shot,
this made the anticipation beyond great, and the whole world was
buzzing about who shot fucking JR and the new season opened with more
viewers than could be fathomed. So it makes no sense for this drop
off, but I don't lie and pasted in bio stats don't either. For a
while, I was getting between 100 and 140 daily hits on average, and
now it is about half of that. And after all the shit I have told. So
the only explanation is that those reading, must for the most part,
have more than a vested interest in my keeping my big fucking mouth
shut and remember the lines in the sand that can never be ''CROSSED
OVER''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Audience |
HEY,
I AM JUST TRYING TO BE LOGICAL!!!
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW!
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