**(((((]]]]]]]]]][[[[[[[[[[)))))**
>>]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]][[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[>>
KEYBOARDS
FROM PETAHELL ® 1980
MARK
WAYNE MOHR
PINK
GODDESSES
MORNING
LIGHTS
DESTRUCT
SWITCHES
GARY
MITCHELLS
AND
CAPTAIN WILLIAM SHATNER KIRKS
CHRIS,
ED, AND THE MILITUFORCE BLOGAUD
CHAPTER
33
DECEMBER
15,
2015,
TUESDAY
AFTERNOON, AT 4:18,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE IS 81
DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
TODAY-------(H-84/L-64).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 79%,
AND IT FEELS LIKE 87.
WIND
IS AT A STEADY-SE,
AT 10.
TOTAL
RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---0.
IT
WAS FEELING JUST UP AT 90, OR MAYBE ONE DEGREE SHY, BACK AN HOUR AGO.
THE SUN WILL BE DOWN IN A LITTLE OVER AN HOUR, AND THEN TEMPS WILL
DROP A BIT. WHAT WON'T DROP IS MY AMAZEMENT TO WHAT HAPPENED TO ME
SHORTLY AS THIS MORNING ARRIVED, AND I WAS IN BED!!!!!
I
had an uninduced astral-projection, shortly after I went back to bed,
right shy of the dam opening bell on Wall Street. At
9:25, I awakened from another horrible
gods dam charlie house attack on my left calf, that was quite
dam ass excruciating, and agonizing.
What did the man say to his wife, after she stabbed him for cheating
on her? ''Dam it honey cakes, the word pain just doesn't CUT
IT''! I hope the debates tonight have a little humor too.
Otherwise, this entire fuckign shit is starting to totally dam
depress me. How about all of you, YO?
MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2015.
Aunt
Alice Gallagher, of Chicago, Illinois; I'll bet that you never had
any uninduced projections out of body, until hubby-dear took the old
1986 to you, back in February of 1948, up there in Braintree, Mass,
USA!!! Well, unlike you, oh great Aunt Alice, YO; Latengrate as you
may be; I DID HAVE A WILD EXPERIENCE AGAIN, last night or early this
morning, or as Bob Andrews said back in 1975 before he sang my SPIRIT
PEACE song in Pileggi's Haddon Township, New Jersey, basement;
“WHATEVER”!!!!!!!!!!!
Well;
without going on about it and getting right to the dam heart of the
matter, kind folks out here; the trustworthy and notorious
illustrious United
States
Library
Of Congress Copyright Office,
back in the summer
time in the year of 1980,
as well as Marcy
Levy and Robin Gibb,
of the great world famous superstar Gibb
Brothers BEEGEE music assholes;
and their theft of my pal Tom Glenn's arrangement, on my LOST
LOVE SONG;
yes sir/ yes ma'am; all totally fits together in things so huge that
if the smallest part of it was altered somehow in a
massive T-3-E hyper-space-equation (HSE);
you'd never believe how the entire planet would have evolved since
1980, and the way it is now in late 2015; would
be nothing like it would have been if I had just never worked at that
RPL
Sound Studio,
or copyrighted
any of those dam four
1980 demo tunes!
Believe me, don't believe me, from here, to James Patterson's
Chris-Cross, and Christ's death Cross; as your
belief in my creditability and honesty or for that matter,
Listener-Theresa,
my sanity; has nothing to do with the pure and simple mathematics
of everything involved here.
Oh yes, there are countless major unfathomable things to be said
about me as well as my interactive life in and surrounding Atlantic
City, New Jersey, USA; BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT,
I learned around the time that I was writing my blog about a year,
that I am already in this family of great washcloths; long
before I was brought further into it,
during a summer
time act of passion,
underneath
the Central Pier, of Atlantic City, USA, ES-MWG!!!!!
It
began with the dam charlie horse and me on the floor practically
screaming in fucking painful anti-bliss, in its absolute epitomized
form, for those science fiction buffs out there who are fascinated
with warp drive star ships and antimatter and those similarities such
as these. I climbed back into bed and within a minute, despite my
calf leg hurting like a kicked little kitten, I was
dead-to-the-world. What seemed like maybe no time at all to the
tiniest little bit of it, a knock came on the door. I had totally
forgotten this entire thing that I am about to tell on this blog,
until while watching an old rerun on cable television, from the great
western, called, “Gunsmoke”, and heard 'Mister Festis',
discussing working for some fellow, so as he could make ten dollars
and the dude said he would pay him a dollar a day, and feed him well;
if that is at the end of the day he was still able to eat after the
man worked him half to death. This began to bring forth some memories
of me telling my old beach-pal, Mister Sigmund Malyeska (Ziggy) as I
called him, and so did everyone else on the Atlantic City beaches,
back in the sixties, and into early seventies; that Tom Reale was
paying me ten dollars a day, and Ziggy kept repeating to me in a very
shocked sounding tone of voice, “Ten
dollars a day”?
He
thought that was quite the overly exuberant amount of wages to pay a
fifteen year old,
along with his meals, and housing. Of course, Tom
Reale claimed to hire me as a plumber's Assistant,
and to quote David Roth who later was told this dirty little story, a
decade and a half after the fact, “The
only plumbing that he was interested in, Mark, was your plumbing”.
He was totally correct!!!!!!!!!
So
a knock comes on my door, only I'd totally forgotten the entire deal.
Many of you who are avid and vivid dreamers out here, know what is
being discussed here, in so far as dreaming, then forgetting it
completely, and then some event happens during the course of the day
and in some instances even days later, and
this goes onto TRIGGER the memory
OF
THAT DREAMING-INTERACTION EXPERIENCE.
I opened the door and remember being barely able to walk and being so
tired and drowsy, it was if I had been drugged with a high dosage of
barbiturates. Anyone can force themselves to awaken if a loud banging
knock comes at your door, only I was barely able to half stand and
open the door, and as I did so, several maintenance men were out in
the hall, and it
is so fuckiGN real, that I would not be able to swear in a dam court
of law that it didn't really happen
shortly after my charlie horse, that I had gotten, and then returned
back into sleep again. It
was that real!!!!!!!!
Then
here is where shit gets really GOUUUUUUD, to quote my
girlfriend Helen Zebriski, back in 1999,
when she was referring to my huge fracture bruise, on my right dam
arm, after her friend Keisha, the girl who had just turned age 14
years, and was quite a giant and extremely muscular, as well as red
hot beyond monster ass hot; had given me a really mind bending
play-punch, that you could hear both the bone crushing fracture
sound, as well as the unholy 'loud poof sound', and Helen then went
onto say later on, while looking at the huge spot on my arm; “Oh
Mark, she got you GOUUUUUUUUUUD”!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
back to the door here at my apartment, and at this Public Housing
Building, known locally around town here, as the PARK TERRACE. There
were about three maintenance peeps, and one just entered without
saying a word, and then once inside, he turned back to me, barely
able to stand up and keep my eyes open which I have a totally major
distinct recollection of now once the memories all returned after
watching that part of that GUNSMOKE
TV-SHOW,
and as he turned, he jabbed me with a hypodermic needle, and then I
completely passed out and remember him catching me, picking me up,
and placing me onto my bed. Then I somehow knew all of them were
inside my place, and I could hear on some level of awareness, them
all speaking to each other for quite some time. I was not however
able to get any actual gist of what the conversation was all about,
or why they had done this to me, in the first place.
The
harder I tried to wake myself up, the more energy I seemed to be
expending, and causing me the very opposite effect to what I was
attempting to accomplish. Then poof, no busted arm from gorgeous
young teen girls, BUTTTTTTT I was completely asleep, only I was
anything but, and found myself in Cooley Hall, back just a day or two
before the Christmas vacation break of 1972, and a month before my
final days there, in late January of 1973. I was in the coaches
locker area in the gymnasium there, and I seemed to be forced to walk
into his secret closet area, and use his D.E. Device that I used to
dream about was in there, ever since the nineteen-seventies came in.
I activated it with a big square red knob that I pushed
instinctively. Suddenly I saw two horizontal bright black lines in
front of me, one at my toes, and the other about thirty inches beyond
my toes, but parallel to the first line, and these lines were about
three feet or maybe a little bit more in width and about an inch
thick, both in height dimension as well as out. A voice told me to
jump across from the first line to the second line, and the command
kept repeating, and growing louder until I eventually did just that.
Instantly I found myself in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Jerry
Heitzmann my old pal from Cooley Hall was with me, and it was now a
year earlier, in 1971 and back in the middle summer time, somewhere
early in July. He didn't actually arrive until I got onto Tennessee
Avenue. I was taken directly to the upstairs rooms of Sarah Krassle's
shop, by
this D. E. system,
in the coaches locker area, (Distance-Elimination).
It somehow places a magnetic field of controlled velocitrons and
zeetrons that are smaller than plank reality and yet larger than the
void infinity, and that are responsible for the dreaming out and away
from that void into the plank,and then into hyperspace. Ever since I
began typing this blog, just about, MY FUCKIGN NABES FROM HELL, have
not stopped slamming doors out in th edam fuckign hallway, MIZZ
MARATTO, Resident Manager, YO! Obviously, as the great game of GTNOTG
indeed dictates, one must realize that explorations are not only
inside of my computer machine system,but then they try and discourage
me from typing and doing these blogs, whenever
I discuss certain MAJESTIC LEVEL TOP SECRET INFORMATION STUFF;
and so they
enter into my nabes from fucking hell,
and make them slam
and slam and slam and slam,
kind SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now,
after Jerry was spotted; I then came to realize in the experience,
that
I was blocking another huge fuckiGN memory,
and this is what these
TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONIC
indwelt nabes,
and now successfully GUESSED-GUESTS;
are trying to interfere, and prevent, me
from telling about and blogging this wild information.
Before
I tell the experience here, kind people; you
need to understand that I
really had this happen to me,
and I
had forgotten it.
I had been
assaulted,
and so had poor Jerry Heitzmann; by
the great PAULA-PATTY KING;
and I had just assumed for a short while, before blocking out the
entire memory all together; that those two boys who looked similar to
classmates that I had back at Cooley Hall, in David Leigh Smith's
class, Harry Vogel and Eddie Boemeister; that Jerry and I had
encountered a short time earlier on the boardwalk, about a quarter
mile or less south of Tennessee Avenue, were the ones who had knocked
us around. It wasn't. It was big PP-KING. She busted some teeth in
Jerry's mouth, and hit me so hard that my mind and brain had been
effected, and my memories were jumbled and lost, all this time, from
1971 in July, until this very early day here on December the
fifteenth, in 2015. There is a lot more to tell, as it involves a lot
of powerful known people, and now it no longer is a mystery how the
WAYV radio people all know Mister Regis Philbin, as he is also a lot
more than he purports to be, whether he even knows or remembers
being an active engaging part of this or not, when he is not indwelt;
and not a part of of the GUESSED-GUESTS, of the great unholy and evil
Briggbase-controlled and operated, EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY!!!!!
You
know for all I care, you can imprison me in some huge scary fuckiGN
looking lighthouse, or your dam water company, oh great pink goddess
on Earth; BUTTTTTTTTT,
I'll
always love you to death,
my white-hot teen queen Jehovah, no matter what you keep doing to
your poor old defenseless little helpless pathetic THAT-BOY,
YO!
Now
why exactly, Sarah Callio Martino, somewhere in hyperspace; trapped
me in a lighthouse, and yelled my name out, over and over,
'JoJo-JoJo; I
will never totally know,
so let me widen the scope of the topic, so we can see this in a
larger blend of bigger pictures, and out of one tiny confined box;
great ladies and gentlemen. First, my spell-checker is disabled, so I
must close the word program out and reboot into it to activate the
anti-hack procedure. OK I'm
back,
EVIL
CHUCKIE, DAWN-MARIE, BEETLEJUICE NONSTAR, and FREDDY
ELM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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