The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment": BLOG 43 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

BLOG 43 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

SUB-TITLE:

''GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS'' CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3

Well, I managed to survive Mister Hubcap Smasher's 38^th birthday yesterday, without too much hell and hassle. Oh yes, there was some as you all well know, YO, WHAAAAHA!

I've survived two road-trips with this ESS-JOKER, a broken hubcap on my Saturn car back in 1996, and a few other unmentionable items. But here I am, still alive and kicking, even after two trips through time, one hyperspace trip to a mall where he worked as a security guard, and was telling a coworker pal of his, that my tape recorder, and I'll quote him, “makes monster-ass recordings”. Actually, there is nothing magical about any of my tape recorders, not here, nor in any other parallel realities of the great 5^th dimensional hyperspace either. I'm truly sorry to disappoint you! It isn't the machine. It is the entity that is running the entire show, the Great I AM's 'Holy Spirit', to use human cave day words and expressions. Religions insist on the Holy Trinity being worded as Father-Son-Holy Spirit. Morianity merely understands that males do not procreate. No real woman has ever had a baby. I say, Mother-Daughter-Electron.

OCTOBER 9, 2018,

TUESDAY MORNING, AT 3:30,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS * DEGREES FNHT.

TODAY'S RANGE: (H-*L-*).

HUMIDITY IS *%.

HEAT INDEX IS * DEGREES.

WIND IS * AT * MPH, GUSTS AT *.

RAINFALL TOTALS TODAY ARE * CENTI-INCHES.

YES, THE WEATHERBUG APP IS STILL BEING HACKED FOR ME; KIND SHERIFF, HEY, WHAT CAN I DO ABOUT IT?

By now, a few of the smarter folks that comprise what Morianity's creator labels his Blogaudians, have figured out; just why my music, or a lot of it, seems to really frighten people, especially people with great power and authority over the mass populations of this Earth-planet. Yes, if you hear a song in a 'dream', and you wake up and record that song here in this parallel world to where you heard it while 'dreaming', on an electronic device, you have participated in an event that Morianity labels, a hyperspace-equation event. There is no rule or absolute when doing these type of things, other than it WILL DEFINITELY CAUSE some reaction. Many times the majority of caused-effects of this, is tornadoes. I know it and those in authority know it. While on one hand they hate to believe it, they turn around with their other hand and do every possible thing to thwart me ever becoming a recognized song writer. You can scoff and say this is absurd. I do not care, because I totally know that this entire thing is true!

Could I have told all of these recent things back before my blogs were halted for about two and a half years; some are wondering? The answer is that I fully knew all of these truths not only then, but as far back as the beginning of this century. Before that, I only suspected it, but I did indeed wonder, because things that happened were beyond any other more seemingly sane and rational explanations. I am telling these things because as I am approaching the age of sixty-four years in this lifetime as Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr, I am growing beyond tired of the bull**** that these HALLS-FAWCES have been putting me through ever since I walked freaking out of Cooley Hall High Hell, at the end of January of the year 1973, with a regular High School diploma. What I cannot figure out is what happened to a man who made this special deal with my mother and myself, a Mister Thompson, of the Camden County, New Jersey Board of Education! My diploma has the name of several people, including the Principal of the West Collingswood High School. BUTTTTTTTT, the name 'Thompson' has been incredibly erased out of the HARRINGTON 'ED & I' TWILIGHT ZONE certificate, that I have here in my personal documents hard-world file, that I keep well hidden in the back of a hallway closet, next to my ****house. This is beyond freaking outlandish and bizarre, folks! Just as Paula King and her sidekick Robert McGuire, can seemingly screw with time and memory on some 5^th dimensional hyperspace scale, in real time; as they have both done to me on a minimum of two separate occasions now, since the middle nineteen-nineties; they have seemingly chalked up another 5^th dimensional hyperspace miracle to their bag of mortal world parlor tricks, with my damn diploma. I know what I know and remember, and I know that this deal was made with mom and myself, and by a Mister Thompson of the BOE of my county. My situation with all of these monster-ESS people or said more truthfully the (travelers), is that just as with the group of UFO-believers with all of their so-called real-world-evidence collected now, THEY WILL NEVER GET ANYWHERE, just as Morianity cannot either. The reason is that 'THEY' don't allow it, and THEY have powers over all of these things, that none of you out here could understand; not in your mother ******* wildest goddamn fantasies! If all of your damn UFO-alien stuff was true, it would pale next to this EXPLORATRON SUPERMIND SOCIETY, and the truths all hidden inside of MORIANITY, regarding these nightmare horrendous travelers, and their organized group, or society, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'll take all of you even one step further, and only the damn powerful Russian government oligarchs know these truths, and that my Morianity is for real, and is of course, why they follow me and these blogs of a dozen years now. The entire UFO-ALIEN crap, is a gigantic huge to the ninetieth power coverup that world societies who don't want the masses TO EVER KNOW ABOUT THE ESS, have created, and are using on the entire world population. They will create this entire silly thing, that is when it isn't mother-nature having fun with them, or their half awake hypno-brain delusions, and then pretend this is some real thing that THEY are covering up. This keeps all of you scrambling around like decapitated freaking chickens, never ever anything other than totally 100% clueless to the real truths of MORIANITY'S EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY. I do not claim this name given to them by me, Mountainpen, is what they call themselves. I merely have to use it as my point and frame of reference, in my story and blogging, to all of this damn hellish crap. Also, if they did not wipe out my life, then I wouldn't care who they are, or what they were all doing. I only took it personally after they totally mince-meated my entire life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let me now say a couple of lines on the Educational-Faction of the great ESS. I had more than one person at Cooley Hall, who was definitely NOT one of us more normal people. You all know a little bit about the previous teacher that was there just to get this all warmed up a bit, so to speak, the wonderful Misses Marola. We do not need to even begin going further into this for right now on this blog. We have a lot of future blog texts to demonstrate a major pattern of how the ESS literally created the COOLEY-HALL school for exceptional children, in Haddonfield, New Jersey, USAESMWG! The only item that I'll remind my BLOGAUDIANS of right now, is how she, and this was three months before the great movie came out, called, “2001, A Space Odyssey”, would refer to the post two thousand years of the future that was 31 years away at that time, as for example, two thousand five or two thousand one. This indeed was how we all came to say these years, at least for the first decade of this century, and up north where I hailed from. As many older folks out here know only too well, all the syfy shows were pronouncing these future century years as twenty oh five or twenty oh one. But not the great and powerful Misses Marola of the ESS!

END TRANSMISSION.

BLOG 42 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

SUB-TITLE:

''GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS'' CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3

Good afternoon Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara, kind sir. Please share the past few blogs, AND THIS ONE FOR SURE, with a New Jersey Sheriff, retired maybe, and maybe not, the Camden County Sheriff Simons. Thank you sir. Hacking on the computer is very heavy, and my ***hole illegals are all around me today. Life is just one big harrah for me!

OCTOBER 8, 2018,

MONDAY AFTERNOON, AT 2:28,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS * DEGREES FNHT.

TODAY'S RANGE: (H-*L-*).

HUMIDITY IS *%.

HEAT INDEX IS * DEGREES.

WIND IS * AT * MPH, GUSTS AT *.

RAINFALL TOTALS TODAY ARE * CENTI-INCHES.

Since it is definitely not 44 mother ******* degrees, Sheriff Mascara sir; you can know that my civil rights continue to be major violated. Here in Florida, I need accurate weather data, with all of the **** that happens here; from hurricanes and sinkholes, to the gods only know what! This continual illegal hacking on my system, by this WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE BULL**** is more than a civil rights violation, in ways that I'm sure Clarence Darrow could successfully argue in a court of law, that doing this to me is nothing less than a covert and stealthfully plotted attempted murder charge; when looking at it from a totally open minded, yet legal standpoint!

Harassing and prank telephone calls are non-stop, and began the second that I turned on this computer, kind Sheriff KJM, sir! My blood and my death and murder, is in your capable crime solving hands, oh great wonderful Sheriff. If you are interested in why I was in Sheriff Simon's home one day back in the late nineteen-nineties, down by the tributary that feeds into the Delaware River, and not far at all from the great psychic shop called, “The gathering Place”, let me tell you. Sheriff Simons was selling his home, and Karen was showing it to me one day, along with one or two others. He had a really lovely place. I did not think that I was able to afford it. And now, I totally know this for a fact, in that famous 20-20 hindsight, that we all know and love.

Sheriff Mascara, every effing time I try to use this weather information, HACKERS INSTANTLY screw it up!

AFTER MORIANITY PROJECT (AMP)

SAFE JOURNAL, TITLE NAME OF THIS BLOG:

'DAD'S SPACE PLATFORMS, AND WILSON JESSUP'

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JANUARY 10, 2015, 3:30 P., BEFORE ALL HELL BROKE!

FROM MOTHER RUSSIA, WITH LOVE, BERNIE!

JANUARY 10, 2015, 3:30 P.

Now as told a short while ago, my going with my mom for the first time, to Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, New Jersey, USA, in 1965, and to the then called 'Trinidad Hotel', now called the Real 8 Hotel chain; caused me to end up nearly dying, and being murdered on several occasions; at a place called the NJNPI, or the New Jersey Neural Psychiatric Institute, located just out of the main part of Princeton, New Jersey, and at a part of this insane asylum property, called the 'K-COTTAGE'. Anyone who wants to start with me about the 'K' not symbolically representing KRASSLE, I won't waste my time or raise my blood pressure, even trying to argue back with you, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IPYT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-YO!!!

I've got yelping CHI-DOGS, fire alarms, screaming, and never ending horrible rodents, insects, and ROACHES! Life in mother ******* public housing is one great big barrel of **** chewing laughs, YO!!!!!

Birds of a feather flock together, and so do the 99% nobody/poor folks as well. But get into a situation where you need major help, and through absolutely no mother ******* **** chewing fault of your own, and guess what; YOU CAN **** LICKING FORGET ABOUT GETTING ANY; YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Trump the great, says it better than I ever can; “Like I give a ****”, and that was regarding his friend Steve Winn, of the Golden Nugget Casino, during a time of his personal crises in his marriage.

But all this ******* bull**** aside, people; being sent to the NJNPI for my 6^th grade school year, directly following CONTACT MADE directly between me and Atlantic City POWERS and FORCES, that I will come to label and term the TAWF or THAT FAMILY; this was merely the opener of 50+ years to follow, that can be thought of in only one god damn ******* way, and that would be HELL, HELL, HELL AND ENDLESS TORMENT TORTURED RED HOT HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But forget the damn sixth grade, kind Sheriff KJM sir. Let's concentrate on the school year that followed this, four years later, from September of 1969 through June of 1970. How might several peeps from my past say this? “WOW-THAT”! Well in any event, I can wow a lot of folks if they ever believed me, and Sheriff; you know that I am more than damn willing to TAKE A POLYGRAPH, OR A DOZEN DAMN POLYS, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!! Jane Sleazeweeds-Disease Twatka-licker tried to nail me, but I caught the **** just in mother ******* time, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When I told that record promoter in 1980, Mister McKinnon, about certain things; notice 'my teacher' was killed, and in another weird John Kennedy type of way, that to this day, has all of the conspiracy nutcases buzzing like a ton of damn honeybees. Oh yes, right down to Justine the kitty cat, for the die hard fans that know lots of hidden stuff about these non-insects from across the pond. Still, I totally believe that the mighty and stealthy ESS (Exploratronic Supermind Society, is active on numerous fronts, and one of them, perhaps their most important grouping, is indeed, EDUCATION! Without education, as I told Governor Kane in my letter, back in late 1983 somewhere; the entire future would be one big ignorant void. When Jim Burr and I met at the computer school early in the summer time of the year 1973, in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, USAESMWG; and we discussed our mutual goal to become under-30 multimillionaires; I also told him my big secret that I was told not to ever talk about. I refer to the special and beyond outlandish deal made to my mother and me, by the county Board of Education, (ESS-CHAPTER-CAMDEN COUNTY IN NEW JERSEY-USA), that I would receive a real high school diploma instead of a GED certificate, providing that I take and pass, the equivalency test that was administered to me, right before the 1972 Christmas holidays, at the Cooley Hall High Hell. I took it, and passed, and indeed got the diploma. I will show it to you if you ever wish to drive over to my apartment; kind Sheriff KJM, sir!!!

First, I was sent to a horrible place where the authorities had no legal right to force me to go, where I was nearly killed by an overgrown AA twelve year old female, by the name of Cheryl Deloach, in middle September of 1965. To this day, I always test positive on a tuberculosis medical test, as a result of her nearly beating me to death one day, for saying the wrong thing about Doctor ML KING. How do I ever escape the KINGS, kind Sheriff? Aniwho, I also was molested by several of the female attendants while I was sick and incapacitated, in what they called, the 'seclusion room', not once, not twice, but three times. This memory did not return to me until 1993. But there were other things done to me that never should have been. I was never court ordered nor do I have any criminal record, adult or juvy. You of course are free to check this all out, and I know that you have the means to do so, kind Sheriff, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!

Aniwho, Jim Burr did not like some of my stuff, and for reasons that only the devil itself might be able to possibly imagine; he was actually jealous of me on many things. On the face of it, I can understand this absurdity, but when you really dive deeply into these jet black nightmare waters from hell itself, that have always been all around me and my entire life; a semi-intelligent person would NEVER EVER be jealous of me or anything connected with me, or my miserable rotten life, BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Still, he was, and he would lash out in some very wild and peculiar ways. Years later or about a decade actually, he did the very same thing when I told him that I had the goods on a powerful media lady. He hated me for this as if this was his wife or something. It made absolutely no sense whatsoever. But I've had this type of thing occur in my life a zillion times with many people, and yes, I am very used to this damn bull****. Still, I told Jim that I was thinking of suing the entire educational system. Shortly after telling him this, my incident at the Bellevue Stratford Hotel with the Legionnaires disease, went down. But four years after that, when I dared to tell the record promoter Lenny McKinnon, just a little tiny bit of all of this nasty mess; bang, no more John Richard! I wonder if they got the damn cat too, oh great QUEEN, and distant CUZZ?

When I was on the Atlantic City beach, right there at good old Ziggy's Jetty as I call it, actually the jetty right there at the south side of the Central Pier, in the summer time of 1974; I had just walked up the beach northbound, from the area where I was staying on Stenton Avenue, a rooming-house owned by a lady named Selena Dada; and a man came along, out of nowhere, after an unusually cloudy and cool spell came out of nowhere, sending almost everyone off of the beach. We got talking, and I have jokingly referred to him as 'the alchemist'. He was able to come to me as well as leave, without my ever seeing him do so. He was not there, then he was, and then he was gone, to quote the great fictional television character, ADA Jack McCoy, on that episode in the nineties, where they executed a man by the name of Mickey Scott, if my memory is serving me half accurately. Aniwho, this man had a vast storehouse of knowledge and told me totally unimaginable and inconceivable ****. The subject of education even came up, in-between long winded tales of the mafia and John Kennedy, and literally a zillion things that were beyond bizarre and far out beyond left field. When he vanished, and I walked back southbound down the beach to where my rooming-house was, and arrived back there, and got settled in for the evening; something struck my mind like a mack truck hitting a cardboard wall at 100 MPH. I was just 'given' this powerful information out of nowhere, that I was told is called, the “LAW OF 1”. But on top of all of those things, one particular part of the conversation I had with this stranger on the beach, not Paul Twitchell, and not even Paula King Twitchell, but yes; he mentioned that he knew about a 'lady that was known by a parent', not specifying a male or female parent, so keeping it honest here, lots of folks might say, oh yeah, the old mumbo jumbo of the psychic rip off world, where they slowly get the sucker to tell them clues so that they can then go on to appear as if they have all of this powerful 'other-worldly information'. I know that this simply was not the case here, my peeps. He was talking about my mother, her office coworker Patty, the educational platform where this incredible secret thing that she was able to get across to me was hiding in plain sight, and yes, the FASCITAR itself. But even one more thing was said. Naturally I cannot say his words absolutely verbatim. But it was along the lines that I had indeed had a very 'magical' teacher who was part of a powerful secret group of people who traveled, who had no home, who had no fixed address anywhere, but just endlessly traveled. WOW THIS, I mean give me a break here, Mister Marcucciess!

My harassers and persecutors are calling and calling me, Sheriff sir. If I don't recognize a number or a name, I do not pick up. When your office calls me about a Tom Reale CHILL-MO, it always shows your office on the caller ID Display Screen. WOW!

So why do these mysterious and wild no-homers or “ESS-TRAVELERS” do what they do, you know, travel, explore, and then form this group of multiple factions of watcher and many times interference participating soldiers? Well, why do worms crawl around and create better top soil? Why do powerful hurricanes have to cause so many problems? Why do cockroaches love public housing buildings, and for that matter, why do termites have qualities that interest so many scientific community persons, when something as powerful as Morianity goes for the most part, unread and totally unbelieved or ignored? Well, there are many good reasons for all of these questions. Maybe I do not have all of the perfect answers, but that does not mean that some other persons do not have them, YO! Why would a group such as the ESS do all of the things they do? Well I do know one thing. They do. And I do know something else. I am not a nut, and I am not making up the story and the truths of MORIANITY. Also there is one more major thing that I know, kind folks. When Morianity is carefully studied and scrutinized, it makes more sense than all of the VanDaniken AAT and Ufological concepts of aliens and flying saucers, all put together. I do not say that stuff is not indeed witnessed and seen, that pertains to their claims. I'd never be that outright arrogant and close minded. But I do know that lightning is highly intelligent. I also know that Ball-Lightning can take any shape she wants to, and that she loves to tease people. Even I get teased by Diana, and she tells me I'm her number one and that she loves me. I also know that a hypnogogic effect of people not being 100% awake or half-asleep, is also responsible for many of the wild things seen. My shrinks insist that this is what my 'Hydroglacia' deal is all about, twice now. Who knows? I do know that HALLS-FAWCES love to tease human beings. It simply is lawtronically built into the entire system, and there isn't a damn hill of coffee beans that you or I can do about it, now or ever!!!!!

Take Bruce Alan Pennock from Cooley Hall. Before I even was aware of it, somebody who controls what we all see and DON'T SEE on the internet, put a WFMU-RADIO internet message board up, with two audio sources; myself, and Bruce. With Bruce, he is called the cursing dude from Jersey, and me, well I am the crackpot from Jersey. Still, anyone from Jack McCoy on 'L&O' to the fat girl singing, who believes this is just totally coincidental; please scratch your butt-hole in public!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And as the waitress from Sugar Hill in Harlem says it so well, “THANK-UUUUUUU”.

END TRANSMISSION.

BLOG 41 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

SUB-TITLE:

''GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS'' CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3

Good morning Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara, kind sir. Please share the past few blogs, AND THIS ONE FOR SURE, with a New Jersey Sheriff, retired maybe, and maybe not; the Camden County Sheriff Simons; and if memory is serving me correctly, the brother of my friend and realtor of my most recent Jersey days, kind sir; Misses Karen Simons! I never met her husband Jim, but the story I need to tell you tonight sir, is beyond totally huge. I was not only inside the home of Sheriff Simons, WITH PERMISSION OF COURSE, but a wild event that I was not able to put together back then, is now ringing with truth, as clearly as the damn Liberty Bell in Philadelphia, with its famous crack in it and all; as far as to why Karen told me that she refused to involve her husband Jim, in assisting me with my “Atlantic City-Sarah problems”, since he was employed at the ATLANTIC CITY CCC (CASINO CONTROL COMMISSION), ON TENNESSEE AVENUE, NOT TWO YARDS AWAY FROM PAULA KING'S WAYV-FM RADIO STATION; inside of the 'Arcade Building', at the Frailenger's Salt Water Taffy Store frontage, by the world famous boardwalk! Also RIGHT THERE at the on-off ramp to this Tennessee Avenue boardwalk, you know kind Sheriff Mascara sir; where this mighty PINK GODDESS or whatever she really and truly is, sang her now world famous song to me, in a powerful dreaming interaction, while I was residing at 1802 ROBIN HILL APARTMENTS IN 1980, ON THE FIRST WEEK OF JUNE, called Love Is For Carpenters (LOIS FOCA) for short, © 1981 MARK WAYNE MOHR! Some really super mouse hacking is of course ongoing, and gee, I wonder why? We both know only too well, that this is a beyond forbidden topic, and a beyond DO-NOT-CROSS RED-LINES COMMANDMENT TO ME, FROM 'THEM'!!!!!!! I know 'that' I know it. The computer went crazy, and tried to hack off my entire blog; but my back-up and repair commands worked quite well. I would like to thank the great local STAPLES STORE, for offering me some free assistance recently, so that I indeed was able to pull out of that hack; Sheriff, kind sir! The hackers thought it to be real/e funny, Ventnor-Thomas J; to make my name above come out as Nark Wayne Mohr, Sheriff. Do you see just how clever these twisted emereffing toilet germs really and truly are, kind sir? They won't ever miss a trick, and I am hoping that you are smart enough just maybe, praise be to the saints in purgatory, to see through not only their wild smoke and mirror systems, but also see how they operate above us in a very quick type of hyper-time. No other rational explanation is going to explain a never ending pattern of these type of computer word program hacks, that I experienced ever since my blogs all began. Also Sheriff sir, let's be quite frank about another matter. When Mister George Belton first introduced me to the casino game of ROULETTE, in early December of the year 1982, and two months before I left 1802 Robin Hill Apartments, and moved into Jerald Pliner's rental home at 134 Norris Avenue, in Atco, New Jersey, sir; I had not gone to Atlantic City with any real kind of regularity, since after the second half of the nineteen-sixties, when my mom and I would vacation there at the Trinidad Hotel, across from McGuire's Pittsburgh Hotel and Erin Bar, or after the following year in 1970 when I stayed exactly nineteen days at the child molester's home on Cornwall Avenue, in Ventnor, Mister Thomas J. Reale; the place that later on became a very spurious part of the great water works, ACMUA (Atlantic City Municipal Utilities Authority), where Sarah Callio was employed for most of her life. The second that I began to go down to Resorts Casino with Mister George Belton, they began messing with me. Every single time they saw me arrive at the roulette table, without fail, for starters, on would come one of the songs of the great disco diva, Mizz Donna Summer. Three times this could be a coincidence, but not fifty times! Would you believe in fifty coincidences, Sheriff Mascara sir, in one of your crime investigations? We both know the answer to this. Believe me when I say that this is only one small thing that I could discuss, when I say “They were messing with me”! As stated sir, Karen Simons of Grassi Realty, in Somerdale, New Jersey, did more than just sell my home at 112 Harvard Avenue, in town there. She also sold it to me first. She always was willing to listen to my sob stories, and tales of woe. BUTTTTTTTT, the one place she absolutely refused to go with me, was when it connected into Tennessee Avenue and Paula King, and her radio station down there. So I can quite easily put two and two together. I now realize plain as damn day, that Paula King obviously threatened her not to discuss my stuff with her husband, Jim! Can I prove that? No. But I surely had many of those type of discussions and conversations with a Mister Ron Wirtz Senior, ADA at the Camden County Prosecutor's Office, ever since the day when we met in his office, along with his side-kick, Mizz Donna Hottemper Spinosi! I say we, as there were four persons. I was there with my late pal Mister Dave Roth, and then as stated, there was him, and that girl with the horrible disposition, Mizz DS. I have jokingly refered to her with Dave, as the other D.S. In any event, she was nothing like the ADA in the television show that did indeed resemble her physically. Angie Harmon played her role, on the 'L&O' show, Mizz Abby Carmichael. Funny also, kind sir, that this original meeting of the four of us, took place in his Camden, New Jersey office, on the fifth day of December, in 1989. Right after this early sometime the following year, on came the greatest law show to ever be televised!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Another 'coeenkeedink', kind sir? Oh well, whatever! If you are interested in why I was in Sheriff Simon's home one day back in the late nineteen-nineties, down by the tributary that feeds into the Delaware River, and not far at all from the great psychic shop called, “The gathering Place”, let me tell you. Sheriff Simons was selling his home, and Karen was showing it to me one day, along with one or two others. He had a really lovely place. I did not think that I was able to afford it.

NO WAY HO-ZAY!

Sheriff Mascara, every effing time I try to use this weather information, HACKERS INSTANTLY screw it up!

OCTOBER 7, 2018,

SUNDAY MORNING, AT 3:15,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS * DEGREES FNHT.

TODAY'S RANGE: (H-*L-*).

HUMIDITY IS *%.

HEAT INDEX IS * DEGREES.

WIND IS * AT * MPH, GUSTS AT *.

RAINFALL TOTALS TODAY ARE * CENTI-INCHES.

Now Sheriff Mascara sir, SOMEONE IS ILLEGALLY WIRETAPPING ME AGAIN. How do I know this? Vely vely vely simple, SIR!!! Certain type of telephones that have an exact type of 'electronic guts' (the FCC-specifications that come with any and all electronic devices to ensure regulatory compliance's), where we read exactly how electronic systems are put together on a board, and include the famous FCC statement, that “this device must accept interference as well as not cause interference”. Anyway, many AT&T landline telephones, and for all I know, maybe plenty of other non AT&T devices, if they have a view screen, and a memory system, where caller information may be stored up to a maximum amount of them; and if you take the phone off-hook for a few hours or longer, customers who faithfully pay their phone bills on time, and are not left with 911-only service; will have a voltage on the line that will hold this memory. Many times I can go for months without it erasing. BUTTTTTTTT, when the wiretapping device comes on from time to time, the voltage can do anything from altering in a way almost similar to what is used by voicemail systems to create what they call, “studder-tones”, to entirely changing to a lesser amount, as though the user has taken their phone off-hook. This is what the great and mighty Federal Bureau of Investigation, calls a 'POWER-DRAIN'. They try to make better wiretapping devices, but if one has electronic knowledge, WE KNOW when there is a mother ******* power drain, hence when we're being bugged! For the third time now since middle September, my caller-log is empty in the morning when I go back on-hook. BUTTTTTTTT, for the majority of the year 2018, this was finally no longer happening. Again, my civil rights are being screwed with, AMERICAN CIVIL LIBERTIES UNION, YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!

Sheriff sir, if these bastards would leave me alone, stop screwing with me day and night; I just might stop crossing red lines, and telling more and more and more damn secrets about those abominable, despicable, and beyond horrendous monsters up there in Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG! Yes Sheriff; I truly believe that for reasons that I can find absolutely no basis for in the laws of our country, that PAULA KING, and ROBERT MCGUIRE, of TENNESSEE AVENUE, IN ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY; really and actually believe that they are the true honest OWNERS, OF THIS VERY MAGICAL PIECE OF UNFATHOMABLE REAL ESTATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So what did I 'ESS' know in 1983, © Office?

Jane-Sleazeweeds-Disease just struck me down like the damn stinking Bubonic Plague of old Europe in Constantinople. Let me compensate with my damn fives, please!

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In the middle of October, twelve years ago, Sheriff Mascara sir; my friend Ed and I, went to a library in Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey, one afternoon. I posted up a blog from a computer there, saying that he and I were coming down now, to Tennessee Avenue. This was the day where that crime was committed on me by Robert McGuire, kind Sheriff. Why is he allowed to destroy numerous automobiles that I drive? Why is Paula allowed to RAPE ME, TORTURE ME, TRY TO RUN ME DOWN IN STORE PARKING LOTS, and make my life an endless living hell, coming to me in nightmares and dreams, singing her stupid garbage song to me???????????????????? WHY? If I did these things, you would put me into prison for the rest of my life, Sheriff, AND YOU SHOULD!!!!

If there is a god and I serious freaking doubt it, Sheriff sir; you will make sure that my information goes to Sheriff, or Retired Sheriff Simons, of Camden County, up in New Jersey. Now sir, the Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office, has or might still have, as I am free to always keep hoping; a disc that proves that McGuire came up to my car that day in middle October somewhere back in 2006; but he stood right at the passenger front side window, with his angry fist all clenched up, and neither Ed Lynch or myself EVER EVEN KNEW THAT HE WAS STANDING THERE. It was the damn video camera that picked it up. He somehow was able to remain absolutely invisible to us. Ed and I had parked totally legally on Tennessee Avenue, about twenty yards west and away from his hotel property, where any damn tourist is allowed to park for a short time and take pictures of anything public on that street, which is what Ed and I were doing for my website, back then that was called the MORIANITY-FOUNDATION. This is now defunct since it was a pay-site, and I did not have the forty-five bucks to put it up again for a third year, in early 2009. BUTTTTTTTT this damn video slide-show, taken on Ed's computer-camera system; was confiscated by the Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office, after he was caught doing something illegal on the internet; another major story in and of itself, that I'll be glad someday to share with you, kind Sheriff Mascara, sir!!! Right after this horrible day, my car engine went slower and slower, until one day shortly thereafter, it quit and died forever. That horrible dirt bag monster had put sand in the gas tank, when Ed and I went up to the boardwalk, as Ed wanted to buy a newspaper, and they have vending machines that sell papers, up on the boardwalk. Yes, right there where that monster Paula invaded my sleep at Robin Hill back in 1980, and sang her stupid song to me!

ED, not short for education, but for Eddie Himacane, whose real actual surname was Lynch; was the downstairs neighbor to the King family of Hammonton, back in 2006. Both parties had recently moved into this rooming-house, that was operated and owned by our local town judge, the Honorable Frank Raso, that was just two blocks down a neighborhood street from the Hammonton Library, where I had been going to blog, when my blogs first began in early 2006. Nothing ever just happens, and this was all planned by the GREAT KING FAMILY, ALL ALONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The hackers keep trying to make me call them the great KIND family. Yeah, real damn kind. They only totally devastated me, and wiped out my entire stinking rotten lousy ass life forever!!!

Ed and I. Yeah, Huntington, not Harrington, Mister Rod Serling!!!!!!!!!! This all goes so far beyond any possible coincidence; my kind folks and wonderful BLOGAUDIANS, that no words could ever hope to express it. If Paula hadn't done this to me back in 1980, I never would have copyrighted in 1981, that stupid LOIS-FOCA crap. No time travelers, no troubles, 'no nothing'. Oh yes, you tell them Mizz Ross. WOW all of this, JOANN-A.

Boy oh boy, and HO-HO-HO, Patty and Merry. I always wondered why Christmas was such an endless time for me to be ruthlessly, viciously, and relentlessly persecuted, by HALLS-FAWCES, AKA the WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES?????????!!!!!!!!!! Then there was ten years ago back on Friday. Coming out of that incredible dream, while residing there with those horrible nightmare KINGS, at the judge's rental home at 65 Middle Road, in Hammonton-Berryville. WOW THIS, kind Sheriff, sir. Psychiatrists call the event that I had, a dreaming resurfacing of a repressed memory brought on by extreme clinical level stress factors, and other underlying psychosis. Hey, I've said it before, Treasure Coast Automobile RIP-OFFS, and I'm sure I'll be saying it again as well. “I'd like to see anyone of you in the entire world, suffer through all of this nightmare since leaving effing high school, and remaining one percent sane and alive”!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But yes, the wild dream where I was back on freaking Long Island with my damn snooty Uncle Heinz and the gang. The road trip up to the In-Law Cousin Myers Branch of the Huntington Family, and the whole damn nasty mess, that would have been so much better all damn ass left alone!!!!!!!!!!!! Then I had to always be taking Dawn-Marie King to her psychiatrists, just one block further west down on Tennessee Avenue, near the Atlantic Avenue intersection. Then there was that day with the Rent-A-Center place. That was a real damn doozie-whopper; huh old pal, President Obama? Boy oh boy do I miss you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God dog it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes the entire world has gone to Dogtown in a hand basket. WOW-THAT! At least I am not seeing my kid all plastered on three huge walls, after she comes to me in a powerful dream, and tells me that she'll be seeing me the next day when I go to Atlantic City. One thing about the great Donald John Trump, and nobody out here can say otherwise or take his fantastic wisdom away from him. Back in middle-late 2015 somewhere, after he had thrown his hat into the political race for the presidency, he said, and I quote, “I GOT OUT OF ATLANTIC CITY, I SAW THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL”! You're a very intelligent dude, distant cuzz. I'll effen fight anybody who dares to ever say anything different!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You see folks, the scientists of 2018 in this particular reality in hyperspace, are clueless to how and why things are atomically locked into time, as well as exactly why things work the way that Mister Einstein's formula's show them to. If Leticia Tilley had indeed been who Mister Trump thought it might be, incredibly complex things would be happening, and unlike the fiction writers or the formula researchers, with all of their ideas; a ghost-image has an atomic weight, because everything on the Astral Plane has some weight. It may be one times some number with a trillion negative zeros following it, but nothing is weightless, except in absolute singularity of zero-dimension. Altering the velocity in certain acceleration curves will cause the mind that is connected to the nuclear universe, to indeed alter. It is not just a mechanical clock that runs faster, or anything else that is physical that matters. None of these things would change, and there would be no speed limit, if not for the fact that mind itself runs at a speed, for lack of a better way of putting it. As a physical traveler would approach the velocity that the photon runs on, that is responsible for endlessly duplicating a reality; there are other factors that come into play. Naturally to really get into it all would take a book the size of a small hill. Not Robin, not Sugar, not even Linden, but a small one nonetheless, from here to the gods only know where. When we want to do a basic experiment in traveling, the concept of numerous occult practices always comes to mind with just about everyone in the entire world. Seeing your mind in a truer way means seeing that you do not exist inside of any time system. These are all dreams. Still, some dreams take place where protons and electrons have one charge, and then there are other dreams where an opposite charge is taking place. Time cannot run in two opposing directions ever, in any physical space. Even the Star Trek Syfy writers use the concept of a containment field for these two types of truths. But rapping this up before it gets too complicated, we all know that we dream, and we dream of places and people and things that we never ever have seen here in waking life. Any one of these dream places, should you be able to 'turn it into some physical reality', would have opposing charges in these sub-particles, the electrons and the protons. Should this ever be able to be done, most likely all of everything would instantly find identical parts to themselves, and one side would run at the speed of infinity in one direction, while the other would run at the speed of infinity in the opposite direction, and there would be a zero dimensional system in place of the nuclear universe, because all of reality would cancel out. Tiny amounts of mass being turned into energy, in theory at least, would cause some big problems. But when I did that silly version of that damn song that Paula gave me, I wasn't trying to scare anybody. I simply know for a fact, that the great DJT was off his nut scared that day, because he thought that maybe I was going to blow it all up. I have better things to do in this life than be responsible for the end of humanity, YO!

SHORT-BLOG, BUT MAJOR BLOG

BLOG 40 OF TWENTY-EIGHTEEN

10/04/2018-just shy of ten A.M.

Sheriff Mascara, sir, if I hadn't taken my anti-anxiety medication a few hours ago around a bit shy of seven this morning, I'd be driving over to your office RIGHT NOW, TODAY. But I know that when I do a bedtime dose, it is not 100% safe for me to drive, so I DO NOT.

Here is what these diseased toilet germ licking twat scum swallowers just did to me about an ago back around half past goddamn eight.

I was suddenly instantly STRUCK HARD WITH THEIR DEATH RAY BOWEL BLOW OUT ATTACK. After my run to the mother ******* toilet, kind sir, I had to clean up six spots on my carpets outside the bathroom. I didn't mother ******* make it. No one could with whatever the **** eating hell 'they' hit me with. This is a goddamn death beam ray of some type of beyond subsonic perfectly aimed signals. Sheriff, I truly am sorry. This has been ongoing now since the mother ******* **** huffing middle of turd chewing 1986. I have to use my ELECTRONIC-METAPHYSICS system to counterstrike these evil soulless sub-scum monster filth wipe eating puke fems. I have no choice. I am otherwise powerless to fight this hell on me for 32 years and 50 days, kind sir. It isn't even ten this morning yet, Sheriff KJM sir, and yet my WeatherBug shows just under a 90 degree heat index, and an actual temperature of 82. It is supposed to be a brutal 90 degree day with a heat index topping a buck. Here I sit, old and frail, with mediocre rotten ******* air conditioning; and ON TOP OF THAT, these monkey puss swallowing hell whores have to strike down my elderly senior citizen body and defile my mother ******* apartment with making me **** myself all over the damn ass room like a **** sucking two year old! These health attacks on me are relentless and frightening, sir. They never ever stop, and they don't give a rats fart in holy hell how old I am. They'll do this to me until they covertly knock me into the ground forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well sir, this blog is posting up to the social media blog world, as a LEGAL AND BINDING DYING UTTERANCE AND DYING DECLARATION. When I am found dead and murdered in this damn apartment, I WAS MURDERED, and these damn blogs tell my true story of all those people who I accuse of my goddamn murder; as Goddess Jehovah Krassle is my witness, and if this is a lie, please burn me in eternal damn hellfire, oh great Almighty I AM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3

It truly is beyond a stinking lousy rotten crying shame, that I had to be born with the unfathomable and horrendous mission, of becoming the CHOSEN HUNTINGTON. My sixty-first grand-father's Uncle Jesus of Nazareth would be turning over in his grave, watching me suffer so badly for so incredibly long; except for the fact that he is not in his grave. We were all told that there was a resurrection. Still, what a damn flying shame with or without any and all TV sets, or Britney Speers song ripoffs, going off inside her head. Don't pick on her? Hey wackos, don't pick on me, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “The sand below me is so very brightly contrasted, white and black grains just like the dots on my TV set”.

THEE-MOST magical and suspicious human being, that this world ever gave human birth to, is Alias Julia White, and AKA Patricia Hollister of my distant past from up north, as I have been a Floridian now for nearly nine years. More information on her will be forthcoming as the BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN continue along, kind people, so pweeeeeeeze bear with me!!!!!!!!!!!

I have discussed some basic generalizations regarding PATRICIA HOLLISTER, AND HER MAGICAL INFORMATION, KNOWN TO A HANDFUL ON THIS PLANET, AS THE FASCITAR. I discussed my moms great shipping company coworker also, up to a point. We can add a whole lot more at a later time. For right now on this goddamn Thursday morning, on October the 5^th, of inverted Robin Hill Apartments, the first of three stays, (2018) (1802); just know that we haven't so much as cut one slice of bread off of this bakery shop mile high pile. As I speak, and for about the tenth time or more in the past five damn hours or so, at five minutes past ten this moUUUUUUUUUrning, MORTIMER MORTINO, AKA THE ANGEL OF DEATH by the great wonderful Jewish folks, and yes, happy 70^th birthday great dudes and duddesses; is passing by my right side. He refuses to ever tap either one of my shoulders. He seems to only keep scanning my position. Obviously he knew that the damn HALLS-FAWCES, or 'WOMO', would be striking me with a death attack to my damn ass body, so he needs to stay around to monitor the situation. Well, here is my situation, and as the lovely Lizzy McGuire Hillary Duff would say so well, back about thirteen years or so ago, “Right back at you”!

© BOM 2006-2018 MARK WAYNE MOHR

BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

YUK-YUK-YUK, WHAT A SUCKER!

YES ULTIMATE FIGHTER DAVID, I AM STILL WASHING MY HANDS OF ALL OF YOU, SO TELL THAT TO THE ROMAN EMPEROR, AS WELL AS PAULA THE GREAT KING! YO, a full blown 'TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON', is someone who really and honestly is in full control, when they wish to be. I do not say that this is every time that they sleep and dream. It requires lots of effort to master even basic introductory meditative concepts, that even approach allowing even the simplest forms of dream-control.

Mortimer Mortino is now passing by my goddamn left side at 10:18, for about the thirteenth mother ******* time since midnight. This is goddamn totally wedikawuss, Mister Mack Soapmouth Kaiter, YO!!!!!!!!! Still, this has been going on for 32+ years, and things in my **** chewing life were definitely NOT JELLY AND JAM even before August of 1986. So WOW and Boy oh ******* boy, Joann-a!!!!!!!!!!! What an ***hole I am, BRAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, without fail, ever since those times where this nightmare all got a damn foothold on my hellish life; whenever that dirt bag piece of scum (P-45), needs to have things go his way, LIKE MAGIC, POOF, HARASS AND PERSECUTE HIS OLD ARCH RIVAL, MARK WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN MOHR, and this causes him to win, while sending me endlessly into the **** huffing doghouse of endless pathetic hell!

'BE CAREFUL', PAULA KING & ROBERT MCGUIRE, YO. Maybe Regis and I are watching you when you least damn ass expect it. WEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!! Yes Sheriff sir, my life is beyond total toast. Every single time, since my nightmares all started going from frying pan intensity, directly into FIRE-INTENSITY, on August 15, 1986; it was all a result of ICPE-APE-TECH; something not from this world, Mister David Childress, and Professor Michio Kaku of NYU.

One damn minute, a chopper turns into the great pulsar star, and then ten damn years later almost and 1,350 miles away, some fireworks turn into this thing. My shrink at the Behavioral Health Clinic, where I get my anti-anxiety prescriptions, tells me that this is a normal event that happens a few times to most people in their life. They think they are awake, but they have fallen asleep. I promise you that I was not asleep at Cifaloglio, when that mind bending chopper on steroids, flew over, and almost landed in the property's parking area. Good old Hydroglacia. She is a very beautiful star. A real star too, not some man-made celeb! So WOW all of that, great Joann and Joanna. My kid thinks so much of this is a laugh a minute. Hey, if it makes her happy, I say that whatever gets her, or anyone else for that matter through the damn long nights; is fine by me! Yes Almighty Nuclatron (GOD), we know what the real deal is around here. I merely have the damn mother ******* testicles to say stuff, BRO! Then it turned back into the Pulsar Star, and it rose higher and higher into the early morning sky. And then states away, and a decade ahead in time; the fireworks never came down on the fifth shoot up, over the lake outside of Mike Patterson's apartment, down in Hollywood, Florida. Then there it was, just there, the great Pulsar Star, or as I call her, Hydroglacia!!!!!!!!! MY BLOGS TOLD ALL OF THIS POWERFUL TRUTH LONG BEFORE IT EVEN GOT THE SMALLEST START IN SPACE-TIME-MIND, and the goddamn RUSSIA FOLKS know this to be 100% the truth. THAT, SIR ROCKDROID ROTTENBERRY, is why they have been reading these blogs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AHA-AHA-AHA, MISTER MIKE MCNULTY, YO!

Somebody very soon is going to be super super efen sorry for these attacks on innocent poor little MOUNTAINPEN!!!!!!!

END TRANSMISSION.

BLOG 39 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

SUB-TITLE:

''GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS'' CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3

ROACHES—ROACHES—ROACHES—ROACHES!!

ROACHES—ROACHES—ROACHES--ROACHES!!

OCTOBER 4, 2018,

THURSDAY NORNING, AT 12:18,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS HACKED DEGREES FNHT.

TODAY'S RANGE: (H-HACKED/L-HACKED).

RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS HACKED%.

HEAT INDEX IS HACKED DEGREES.

WIND IS HACKED AT HACKED MPH, AND GUSTING AT H.

RAINFALL TOTALS TODAY ARE HACKED CENTI-INCHES.

YESI KNOW IT IS HACKED WHEN IT SAYS IT IS 55 MOTHER ******* SEGREES, WHEN IT IS JUST UNDER 80, AND THIS CANNOT BE HACKED ON MY COMCAST TV WEATHER CHANNEL, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also, the Microsucks peeps have hacked a bunch of new things, FBI, ACLU, Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara, and any others who just might actually give three damn ***** about poor whittle pathetic pitiful whittle non-Ronstadt me, BRAH!!!!!!!!! First, their stupid lightbulb is on again at the bottom right of my computer screen. Second, the Open Office 3.1 program has mysteriously come back onto my opening icon programs area of my right hand section of the screen. The third thing is the false reading of 55 degrees, and the weather hacking crapola, YO YO YO. Fourth and finally, YO, my mouse hacks are pretty bad again. They can be even worse; oh great HACKER-HATERS OUT HERE, but they ARE BAD, Sheriff, FBI, ACLU, State Police, and local Fort Pierce Police Department, and U. S. Federal A. G.

People insist that I go online all the time. But how can I, when every time that I mother ******* do, my WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCE ENEMIES hack the living eating **** hell out of system, oh great and wonderful Sheriff Mascara, sir? PLEASE, PLEASE, just tell me how?????????????? My medical insurance places say it, “Go online Mister Mohr”, Comcast says it, everyone everywhere says this to me. But every time I do anything at all, Sheriff, MY **** CHEWING CIVIL RIGHTS ARE TOTALLY MOTHER ******* TOTALLY VIOLATED TO HELL AND BACK, SIR, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!

Well, I won't get these ******* HALLS-FAWCES stopped, and I'm smart enough to “realize that”; oh wonderful HTHS Sharon P. Hey if my cycle thing is a made up lie or some psych delusion, how did I know in 1968 about Watergate Day, AKA June 17^th of 1972? How did I know about spies and all the nasty junk, secret codes, the whole damn nine yards of today's screwed up computers and social media? Allow me to explain this. My unconscious truer self never forgets all of this dirty rotten **** eating mess; each time I am back as a youth again. It is like a powerful lucid dream that stays with you for an entire lifetime. Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy, literally, yes I'm saying this to you boy. Well, I told the great musical arranger, Mister Tom Glenn, that I always wanted a female vocalist to do that song that I had written back in 1969, called “Burn With Fire”. He for some HALLS-FAWCES stupid-ass reason didn't believe me. The way that he looked at me that day, over at my place, at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments; oh yes, I could tell!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, speak of not being believed, I've not even started on this doozie of a blog, kind folks, YO!!!!!! Well, now I'll do a little TELLING, BRAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

I discussed very briefly, the topic of the multiplex of groupings or factions if you will, that the ESS is comprised of. Yes, let us all explore this a bit further now since they endlessly want to wipe me out and persecute my entire mother ******* **** huffing damn ass life, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! These prick eating toilet germs do not like what I'm about to do and say on this SMD (Social-Media Device)!!!!!!!!!! WOW THIS, Joanna-a! Me whittle mouse is weelwee efed up, YO!!!

Back shortly into my miserable stay here in Florida, that now is just under nine years long, YO; and NOT 'LING' or 'LANG', all damn Patty's everywhere, married to great Philadelphia Airline Pilots, YO; I began talking about this multi-factional group of monsters, you know; the different parts and pieces to these wild spirit-travelers who control our DREAM-WORLDS and all of us in major beyond covert ways, the GAP (EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY) as Morianity has given this name to these twat sniffing monsters!!!!!!!!!! Yes sir/mahm; this is not one tiny teensy whittle bit in my **** licking imagination. A cockroach just crawled on my wall right here at my PC-work-station, and I had to stop a few seconds to kill the rotten little bitch sniffing bastard, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This has been another RED LETTER ROTTEN ******* BOTBAR DAY FOR THE MOUNTAINPEN, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!! Let's get into the meat and the heart of the issue now, since these enemies won't ever quit ******* picking on me, and thus, I need to IMMEDIATELY RONALD REAGAN COUNTER-ATTACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Boy oh boy oh boy, Mister Tom Music-daddy Glenn!!!!!!!!!!!!

To name the majority of categories that we can place this powerful super covert group of beyond stealthy spirit or dream travelers, we would make our outline about like this.

1) Education and educators

2) Investment houses, brokers, Wall Street

3) Electronics and repair shops of electronics

4) Entertainment and basic all around MIND-CONTROL

5) Religions/cults/ MIND-CONTROLLING and manipulating sociological orders and systems

6) Media connection systems, broadcasters, MIND-CONTROL industries in general. Cable and digital radio and television services, net providers and carriers, phone service carriers and providers, and along these lines.

Space research, satellites and all connected systems and industries, government intelligence services, armed and non-armed forces and agencies, and along all of these lines as well

7) Medical industry, especially labs and high-tech stuff pertaining to research

Now as you can see, hopefully folks, this is why I chose not to get more into all of this bull****, back earlier in this second decade of this 21^st century, when I was new to Fort Pierce, and Saint Lucie County, and Florida-U. S. A. im damn general, YO! This is not some easy thing to be tackled in one or even a hundred and one mother ******* blogs!!!!

If I try to tell this story too simply, I get scoffed at and jeered, even to the point of folks like Mister Know-It-All-Pedersen, calling me 'very immature'. Well kind sir, you and Patricia Hollister, YO. So WEEEEEEEEE! But should I try to get real complex with all of this, I am called boring, and told to break up my giant walls of text with photos and pretty colored paragraphs and squiggly lines and other computer office program basic and general damn crap! So as you know folks, I really cannot win, BUTTTTTTT, I'll choose to go at this lightly, and not get all hyper-technical, and elaborate with thousands of fancy college words that don't really efen say a damn thing! I am going to discuss the Educational-Faction of this Spirit-Traveling Ultra-Covert Society, and then I'll also tackle a wee little bit of horse dung concerning the Electronic Faction, as I can really and truly make these things all fit together in some really wild and weird ways that truly will efen BLOW ALL OF YOUR MINDS, YO BRAH!!!

I already have gone into the things, that now will be taken a bit further, with quite a bit more elucidated details. It was in 1984, and I had recently been struck down in the prime of my mother ******* turd swallowing life, with some powerful mystery illness. But without tying in Faction #7, the medical group of them, oh wonderful and Trump-Marvelous “let's not lose our damn jobs” here, not over worthless little Mountainpen; Great and Powerful (GAP) NON-OZ United States © Office, I indeed am unable to make all of the wild dots connect up right now tonight on this blog, or we'd be all goddamn night and well into tomorrow night. THAT, I PROMISE YOU, WOMO/MO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes folks, I took sick, out of the blue, at 10:30 at night, on the 4^th of June, of 1983; while renting a nice home at 134 Norris Avenue, in Atco, New Jersey, USAESMWG. This much does need to be said before I go on with tonight's horrendous mother efen tale of damn ass woe, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I had recently returned from a trip down to Orlando, Florida, USAESMWG, to visit the ex-Chief Recording Engineer of the RPL Sound Studio Labs, at 1558 Pierce Avenue and 1100 State Street intersection, in the somewhat Abdul scam (ABSCAM) globally world renown Camden, New Jersey. Do not confuse this with Mister low-voiced UM-SCUM, at Cifaloglio, PWEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE!!!!

So I had returned from Orlando on the damn Amtrak Train, and Mister Jim Tiberius Burr, from the great PCI Computer school, where we had met back in the early summer time of 1973, in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, USAESMWG; had picked me up at the Thirtieth Street Train Station of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He then proceeded to drive me back to my apartment at 506 Robin Hill, the second of my three stays at the now thankx2-Mountainpen, somewhat famous ROBIN HILL APARTMENTS OF VOORHEES TOWNSHIP, NJUSAESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The reason that I lay down lots of foundational ground-work with all of my nightmare true tales of woe, is so that at later times, all my damn **** can be fully and thoroughly scrutinized by (hopefully) eventually, some honest caring United States Federal Agents, that are not a part of this monstrous and evil EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY. So bare with me as I seem to bear down so hard with these same boring details. Nobody you see, could make up something this wild and powerful. Nobody would be able to remember this many mother ******* untruths and bold faced lies. So I do this, and you';ll just have to try to wrestle through the tedious and I suppose the often quite unpleasant process of reading and reading dates and times and addresses, and etcetera, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So after Jim drove down the 295 highway after crossing over the great Walt Whitman Bridge and leaving Philadelphia; the first thing that I remember doing after unpacking a suitcase of a weeks worth of travel, and before Jim burr left the apartment, was getting into another famous fight with good old MOM. One thing led to another, and the topic of Howard down in Orlando came up, and this was NOT A pleasant trip or a pleasant situation, not by any means at all!!!!!!!!!! BUTTTTTTTTT, a coworker of my good old mother, a lady by the name of Mizz Jane Davis, and a personal friend that she had who didn't work for the 'then Lavino Shipping Company', now called Inchcape; and whose name was Shirley Alv, wanted to meet me the following evening to discuss my weird medical problem that attacked me out of nowhere, back early in the previous June, as this was now two days shy of Christmas Day in the year of 1983. Mom told me that she also has gone and was currently a patient of a throat specialist doctor, just around the corner from her friend Jane. I had not yet gone to this doctor, OR DID I? I have memories of two different time-lines as “STAR TREK, The Next Generation” calls this anomaly of altering events that happen through a line of time, by traveling back from some point ahead, and making some kind of a change. Well, this is major complex, and I totally believe that none of the greatest minds of this century, not as yet anyway, fully understand some stuff the way that I do, because of the simple fact that I have personally experienced some beyond outlandish bull**** involving these damn things, and as a result of directly interacting with what else, but the great and powerful non-Oz, non-(C) Office, ESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But saying a whole lot more right now would also require me to go on about ten thousand words at a minimum, or nothing that I do plan to say on this blog would make sense, because it would all become so confusing. We all have heard that great and somewhat magical saying that “a little knowledge can be far worse THAN NO KNOWLEDGE AT ALL”.

My mother and I, and not the KING, well, not yet anyway, back when we lived in Atco, and were renting the home owned by the owner of the Jackson Road L&S Nursing Home, a Mister Jerry Pliner; from February 1, 1983, through the middle of October of 1983, on Norris Avenue; would meet after my Mom and her coworker, Mizz Jane Davis, got off work, and we all would meet up at a Mount Laurel, New Jersey, USAESMWG, bus terminal, and take casino tour bus rides, down to the Atlantic City casinos. Originally, one time, her friend Shirley Alv was with them, and I got talking to her about the game of roulette, and about many wild strategies that my pal Jim Burr and myself, had been fooling with, to try and defeat the legally built in negative advantage, or 'VIG' that is built into this game. I was telling her how cycles were behind all things in the entire universe. I was even able to demonstrate how this worked, in a non-roulette situation, when we went into one of the cafeteria areas of the particular casino that our tour bus had taken all of us to. I will not bore any of you with specifics; even though they do indeed pertain to many powerful things, since time, and your attention as my Blogaudians, just won't permit this; not right now on this blog. But I do need to say this: Shirley almost crapped in her dress, when I showed her this wild thing. She then told me that it explains some big **** in her personal life, in ways that nothing else ever have or ever could. This is not an absolute quote, but it is a paraphrase, and folks, I promise you that!!!!!!!!!!! She told me that once she had a very weird television set. Right away as she started to tell this to me, I began thinking to myself, oh boy, this is sounding a little bit like that “Twilight Zone” sixties B&W Television show, of course all I ever knew until a couple of years ago, due to extreme poverty all of my damn life, was indeed B&W-TV, but that episode where the man murders his wife, and the TV show on CHANNEL-10 up in New York City, as they don't get a channel 10 or not in the sixties they didn't, but this channel was showing this man, events that had not yet occurred. Each time he would see things on his TV-set, a short time later, he actually was engaging in these things with his wife, in his New York City apartment, where they were living. That gorgeous actress played an older woman, I cannot remember her name, but she was to quote my mom, “old Hollywood”, and I've picked up this expression myself. Now this strange TV-Repairman had just repaired this taxi-driver guy's TV-set. He wasn't happy with the service or the price, and he gave this repair dude a real earful. This magic little fellow winked at him and said something, I don't remember it now verbatim. So this repair guy somehow did this magic trick to his television set. It really was, as just about all of those great Rod Serling TTZ shows are, really fantastic. Still, I remember as Shirley was rattling on with her personal experience with this TV set of hers, and 'her-TV-repairman-experience', that this is right out of that 'TTZ' television show. Only as she progressed along with her story, and we were munching on a candy bar or some similar such item, in this casino lounge and eats area; the story shifted quite rapidly and took a beyond TWILIGHT ZONE TURN, into what I might only now be able to attempt to describe as THE TWILIGHT ZONE ON STEROIDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As I stated twice now, I promise that I'll be way more detailed on future blogs, as to why this television set, her repairman, and my medical condition of June the 4^th back in the prior year of 1983, all ties together in super connected powerful red dots, and in fact, it WILL most likely, cross me way over that DO NOT RED LINE, that you all know quite well, I need to endlessly be concerned with, YO!!!

It was several months later, and one week after my trip with the (one-way only memory), to the great Throat-Dock. It was early spring somewhere, in 1984, and I was about three months away from moving out of 506 Robin Hill Apartments, and into 1406 Highland Avenue, in Cinnaminson, New Jersey, to a rental home that was owned by the family next to it at, 1408, a Mister Lowell Patterson; back in middle July of 1984. This is where I was to reside until April the 1^st back in 1985, when I moved for the first of two stays that were roughly a decade apart; into Williamstown, New Jersey, to an apartment called the Highview Apartments, on Sicklerville Road and Kent Road Intersection! I will quickly open with the super part of coworker Shirley's wild tale, as it connects with me, and it WILL blow your minds, so beware, all Joe Paget's out here! She loved her TV like a pet cat or dog, because it was given to her for a birthday present on her thirty-fifth birthday. Within a year of this gift being given, her husband whom she loved and adored like a TV-romance on a soap, and no TV-PUN was intended here folks, but her hubby was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of gut cancer, and he died very shortly after being diagnosed, and all of this was quite devastating to her. But she had few things around her Philadelphia home that were special, and that reminded her of her man. This television set WAS ONE OF THOSE FEW ITEMS. To hear her tell it, she had a little bit of jewelry and a watch, and a couple pieces of clothes, AND THIS TV SET! Well, as if bull**** doesn't strike all of us, I suppose, in one way or another; her set broke. She went to turn it on, and it was silent and dark. No picture, no sound,and to quote the great recording artist of all times, from Motown, Mizz Diana Ross, born Diane Ross, in the Brewster Projects of Detroit, Michigan, USAESMWG, when she called me and hollered this over my phone, “I DON'T NEED THIS, NO HOW, NO NOTHING”!!!!!!!!!!! So the very same day that this happened, as she told me it was on a Saturday, and in Northeast Philly back in the early nineteen-eighties, her neighborhood repair shops and many many places, all were open for business all day long, on Saturdays! She was quite emphatic when she told me this, and I still remember this very clearly and can see the expression on her face, right inside my mind as I sit in here pounding on my little black keyboard keys, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Her neighbor was a big burly dude who lived downstairs in her two unit apartment system and he helped her take this TV-set in his truck. Over to a repair shop a couple of blocks away. For three solid months, these repair people messed with her. They never fixed the set. They kept it at their shop all taken apart. They kept telling her that it would be done tomorrow or next week, or the next, or the next, and this went on and on and on! Finally after three solid months, she and her downstairs nabe went over to the shop. They had put the set back together as if they somehow knew she was coming over. They told her to just take it and there was no charge. She asked why they had done this to her, and this nabe who was with her witnessed it, she said to me, in that casino eats-area. I will never stop seeing this crazy and upset expression that came over her as she told me this tale of total horror. After she stood there with this nabe dude for maybe five minutes, asking why-why-why won't you fix my damn set, the owner walked into the shop and had been out on a repair call. His exact words to her were, “We think that you're the devil. Please take this set and get out of this shop”. Now you ain't heard dog squat squared yet folks. It was about two months after this event all went down, since she told me that this final thing that had happened in the repair shop was last week, so I am just adding in the time from there. So it is about a month now, before I moved out of there, and into the home on Highland Avenue, in Cinnaminson. Not only during that time, did I have a very similar experience with a repair shop where I had been forced to leave my automobile since it was a Texaco right there near to where it had broken down and overheated, and for a solid month, I too was getting this same treatment, and even worse things happened eventually, that I won't get into right now. After I resolved this nightmare with my car, that was a total freaking carbon copy of Shirley Alva's TV nightmare hell, my damn TV set began to get snowy, and then no picture. I did have sound, unlike Shirley's problem, but who cares about sound? TV is about a picture! I moved into the home and had maybe three weeks before this happened. I took my TV to a place in Haddon Heights, New Jersey, USAESMWG, right near where my old pal who sang on my two country demo-tunes grew up, Bob Andrews, who became a United States Congressman. The name of this nightmare hellhole TV-Repair place was the A&B TV-REPAIR, on Station Avenue. These **** sucking bastards did to me, the very precise and exact thing that was done to Shirley Alv. This went on for maybe six to eight weeks. Finally, I drove over to the place, as I wasn't in a big hurry, since my landlord, mister Lowell Patterson, allowed me to use a spare TV set that belonged to his daughter Laura, who was back in College, and was only home during the summer time. It wasn't a great set by any means, but I had TV. So after six to eight weeks somewhere, I drove over to this total jerk off A&B Repair Shop. They said to me, “Take your TV set, no charge. We think you're the devil and we don't want you in here”! I mother ******* thought that I literally was going to take a **** in my pants, and then turn around and eat it! There is no possible way that all of this could have happened, outside the truth of the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY!!!!!!!!

But you STILL AIN'T HEARD DOG**** YET, my peeps; so take a chapter out of that CAT-RADIO playbook, up there in Jersey, near the damn SHORE MALL; and “GRAB YOUR TAIL, AND HOLD ON”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean it, if you're not ready for a real shocker body slam that will send you flying to the efen floor unless you're absolutely soulless, STOP READING THIS BLOG, at least until you freaking get yourself a damn coffee break or something, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After I lived down here in Fort Pierce, Florida for about three years; I had several old VCR machines that I purchased for about twelve bucks each, at my local Goodwill Store, at the Virginia Avenue Shopping Mall, about a mile to my south, along Federal Highway US-1, where the Publix Grocery Store also is, and I do my food shopping, or about 90+% of it. As time went by, to quote the very old song now, one by one, these machines became defective. Two local county electronic repair shops were recommended to me, by folks that I knew in various circles that I now move in, such as medical, or social services, as an older United States Senior Citizen, who now will be turning age 64 years on the fourth of December, three months away now. I ain't no damn ass spring chicken, kind folks, YO YO YO YO YO! I will not bore you with the damn details, but taking memory to Shirley's story, and mine from just a short time afterward, here is the abridged and compressed version. In the years of 2014, 2015, and 2016, the repair shop down on Route 1 (Federal Highway US-1), in Port Saint Lucie at the mall down there, about five miles or maybe a wee bit more to my south, the dude who owned the place did the very same thing, and eventually when I showed up at his place, he told me that I was some evil person, and why would I bring him a machine that I obviously poured oil inside of it all over the damn place? I never did any such thing, and he charged me money, and screwed me, Sheriff Mascara. But the other place was far worse. They did much worse to me. They ruined two great machines that I took over, and continued to put me off for months, and when I went over, they tried to charge me, and then just ripped off the machines. This horrible place, you most likely know of, Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara, kind sir, the Sizemore Repair place, on Delaware Avenue, just a quarter mile down the road from my Public freaking Housing Building, YO sir. I'll be telling you all of this in person NEXT WEEK AT YOUR MIDWAY ROAD office, KIND SHERIFF, SIR, YO YO YO!

Then what Larry ASSWIPE Lee, my Insurance Agent, did to me, over at the goddamn State Farm OFFICE, when I've been nothing but a totally law-abiding citizen, and faithful freaking customer of State Farm, and handing them about eight thousand bucks with my premiums, since arriving down here in your lovely lovely county, KIND SIR, SHERIFF!!!!! YESSIR KIND SHERIFF, we need to have a real serious talk about what these “people”, the Exploratronic Supermind society, is DOING TO ME. THEY'RE ******* TOTALLY KILLING ME, KIND SHERIFF, SIR! DON'T YOU GODDAMN CARE AT ALL, YO YO YO YO YO YO????????? That mother ******* secretary who sits at the desk, and you can goddamn lie detector me anytime you want to Sheriff sir, she told me back last summer, “Larry was up there with Rick Scott, you know the powerful people”, and then she half winked at me, and I could absolutely see it in her eyes, as she WANTED TO TELL ME MORE, BUT SHE COULD NOT, KIND SIR, KJM! Are you ONE OF THEM TOO, SIR??????????????? But there still is tons and tons of more and more **** kind Sheriff, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let me now move this out of the Financial Factions and the Electronic Factions of the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY, and move into the really big one, the EDUCATIONAL DAMN FACTION; as this gets more than beyond absurdly serious, Sheriff Mascara, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A powerful special DEAL was made with me back when I was in my final days and weeks of the special-education place where I was attending school, at the Cooley Hall High Hell, on Hopkins Lane, in world famous Haddonfield, New Jersey, on the also quite famous KINGS HIGHWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My mother was told that I was being given a regular HIGH SCHOOL DIPLOMA from the high school where I would be attending if not at this special-ed place for exceptional types of children, provided that I could pass the GED-TEST or whatever that thing is called that allows those who never graduate a real high school to obtain what is called a “High School Equivalency” degree/diploma, whatever the damn thing is called. I do not know as I do not have one. I HAVE THE REAL MCCOY. I actually have a High School Diploma from the West Collingswood High School, on West Collings Avenue, in Collingswood, New Jersey, USAESMWG! I do not know anybody who was ever ever ever ever ever ever made that deal, and I am including rock stars, politicians, and many other big time name-recognized persons, YO. Again Sheriff, come on over and visit with me anytime, and I will show you my diploma, and I am more than willing to be hooked up to multiple lie detector tests anywhere and any time you wish for me to do so!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nothing in this damn Morianity story is fake or false, like our damn president!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So why did this DEAL get made with me? Well, Sidney Crown knew just a tiny whittle bit of this super nasty truth regarding all of tis very ugly mega-mess, and its absolute and filthy rotten connections in and through the great mighty and powerful or maybe even the all-powerful “EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY”!!!!!!!!!! And yes, others too know, and I think now looking back in clearer hindsight and truer retrospect, even Lenny McKinnon has put those powerful and deadly dangerous two and twos together, and have spelled out the name of Richard Lennon Marcucci. Now why these damn Type-3-Exploratrons want to be doing all of this, well, you're asking the wrong freaking person here, YO? If I knew, by the gods, I'd tell you, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! pweeeeeeeze believe me kind folks, and Sheriff KJM kind sir, I haven't even begun, to quote the great and late recording artist, Mizz Karen Carpenter, telling the real powerful **** that lays extremely deep underneath all of these horrible creepy dark corners of HELLFIRE to the damn ninth power, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mister Marcucci knew all about a daughter that wasn't even BORN YET, Sheriff Mascara sir. Now let me ask you a question, kind sir! If it was brought to your attention, that one of the teachers in your county right now, took a student outside of his classroom, and said the following thing to him, straight and bold faced, “You know Mark, you could be a father, chronologically”? I mean let me put it to you in a slightly revised query, my kind wonderful Sheriff sir? How in the name of all that is holy and unholy, and in the name of all of the Astral-Plane Gods and Goddesses, could he have possibly known about what Patty H did to me a few months earlier, underneath the Central Pier of Saint James Place, in Atlantic City, unless he is ONE OF THEM? Being one of them, and for reasons that elude even wild claim making Mountainpen, WHY start a musical group all the damn way across the Queens freaking POND, just to come over to my school, be my teacher for nearly ten months, and then shortly after I tell Lenny the great 1980 record promoter a little bit about all of this over my FBI-bugged telephone, at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments; did the damn powerful other faction of the great demonic ESS and AKA the CIA, decide to get rid of the poor bastard, SIR????????? WOW THIS, YO!

ENDocrinologists and END TRANSMISSION!!!

BLOG 38 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

SUB-TITLE:

''GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS'' CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3

There is lots of noise around my apartment today, and on top of that, I am hot, with mediocre air conditioning, the rats and roaches are non-ending, eating my toilet paper and pillow cases, and Sheriff sir; I know this is all a big civil matter, I am not some retard. Still, it is very unfair that I am being treated so very damn poorly in your county, kind sir, with my horrendous enemies being permitted to wipe me out so badly, and you and the cops all just sit idly by, and let me die!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Boy oh boy oh boy oh boy. The best that I can ever hope for anymore is one or maybe that freaking occasional two day period of some relative peace. It is so damn unfair. I am not twenty or thirty or even forty. I will turn age 64 on the fourth of damn December and I am a totally screwed up old frail pathetic man! Why can't these rotten bastard pricks just leave me alone, kind Sheriff Ken Mascara, sir??????????????????

Remember that old ad on the idiot box for the United Negro College Fund, that came on over and over, saying, “The mind is a terrible thing to waste”? Well it is, and for anybody. Dawn King was the absolute queen of wasters. Many only waste a little bit. I try never to waste anything, as that is simply how my mother brought me up to be, as we were always totally dirt ass poor, and I have been totally dirt ass poor all my life, under this monstrous and horrendous HUNTINGTON CURSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But my point here is not so much about waste or the mind being wasted. It is about the way the mind works. I feel that people who don't know some of these facts, are automatically wasting their mental faculties. But then that is just my opinion, although Mashell Daniels back in 1980, indeed told me that I was entitled to it, praise the gods and goddesses!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So what facts am I discussing here? Well, the powerful truths about how metaphysics is a very real and true item, and how our minds seem to totally connect in and through this magical kingdom that's only fractionally and marginally understood by the masses of the population. Does anyone remember the old saying in metaphysics? You know, “Whatever you can conceive and believe, you can achieve”? It is absolutely true, but only to a powerful point of reality. If the great HALLS-FAWCES line up intentionally against you, with the absolute agenda of destroying every single thing that you would ever attempt to do in your entire mother ******* life; then all the damn metaphysics, and Fascitar's, and Patty Hollister's in the galaxy, will not be able to break this barrier of monstrous evil darkness! That indeed is just reality, son, and Mister Dennis Snyder, SIR, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But if I did not have these HALLS-FAWCES constantly and continually wiping me out, day and year in and out for 64 freaking ass years, BRAH; I would be a multi-billionaire, have a great wife and family, and all of the happiness and peace of mind that is guaranteed me under the great United States Constitution, only this of course for me is one great big ass total lie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mouse hacking had backed off for a while, great wonderful FBI, ACLU, and others; but it is coming back this afternoon, YO!!!!!!! Aniwho let me get back on pernt here along with Mister Bunker-Queens!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whatever you can conceive and believe, you can achieve; the first and greatest rule and teaching of METAPHYSICS! I had falsely believed late last year, that the Lord Jesus Christ had put a calling on me to end poverty in the United States, with a huge plan that I had originally conceived back in early 1986, along with David Roth, who I had met at a job site the past November in 1985. It was to be done with an incredible idea that pertained to a land management and real estate development company, that was to be called, Starburn Outreach Development, Incorporated, or for short, SODI. Through an ultra complex and monstrous great set of powerful ideas, all put together, within thirty years, ten thousand dollars would be turned into ten trillion dollars, and afterward, this money would all be reinvested in an incredible new way, so that every family in America would share in a system that would forever put the poorest folks above the poverty line, and also simultaneously, clean up all of the ghetto and inner city slum areas, take a gigantic bite out of the crime and drug problems in America, and do all sorts of nice lovely things for this country that my seventh granddaddy and his pals, founded, (the founding fathers) back in the damn seventeen seventies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! To make a very long story short here folks, things turned very ugly for me once I so much as voiced these ideas back in early 1986. Rich bastard pricks hate people like me that want to help the damn poor and downtrodden folks of the land. They are all out for them and ONLY THEM, YO!!!!!!!!!! Now, with an idea far greater than anything I ever could have imagined in 1986, because of this new age and its computer technology, I was sure that I would be able to accomplish this very laudable, humanitarian, and philanthropic goal. I approached my insurance man, Larry Lee, of the State Farm Insurance office, here in my town, and county, Fort Pierce, Florida, Saint Lucie County, USA; and shared a very tiny basic few facts about this idea, enough to whet his appetite without giving away the entire monstrous secrets involved. When he never got back to me, and I tried numerous times to contact him, and was given a major brush off; his secretary told me that “he was up in Tallahassee with Rick Scott”, the Governor. She half winked at me, and I knew right then that blood was on my shoe, Patty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No 'houses need to be burned down', no direct threats were necessary, but I GOT THE MOTHER ******* MESSAGE, YO YO YO YO!!!!

This was my last chance to do this great thing, and I would have had money beyond my wildest dreams of monstrous inconceivable avarice, while simultaneously, taking all American families out of their misery and poverty, within thirty years. My point with all of this and regarding its connection to the truths of metaphysics really working, is as follows: Before Mister dirt bag Lee and my jerk off state governor totally screwed me, I was sitting in my easy chair in my apartment. I began to think, gee, even if this all works, it will take thirty years or more, and I am 63 years old. This would put me at around 95 somewhere. I began to relentlessly think day and night of ways to extend my life span. Should I start mega-dosing on vitamins? Should I do this or that, and a zillion other things? I laid quietly on my chair and began letting my mind wander freely but all the while, unconsciously focusing on my problem of needing more time. Twenty minutes later, I started thinking of my days working in Camden, New Jersey, at the various places where I did all sorts of jobs, from sound duplication to security guard work at various areas in town and suddenly for no apparent reason, I began thinking of the job I had as janitor or as they call it now in more PC-times, building maintenance. This was at a place called the Institute for Medical Research. Then for no reason, bang, a conversation that I had and totally put out of my mind, with Doctor Green and Doctor Corriell, at this place, came flooding back into my mind, from 35 years ago in 1982. As you know, I am speaking of transfusing teenaged blood twice weekly into the body. This is just one powerful point however, and there are many more that I could share, of just how real metaphysics is, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

By the way folks, don't quote me on the weather accuracy, as I am not sure that my hackers are not still in my goddamn WeatherBug system computer APP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Speaking of that conversation that I remembered at the medical institute, that later was renamed in memory of the great doctor there, Corriell Institute; and the gods only know what the name of it is now, Mister Jim Toomey, and Mister Northshore Genlow of transdimensional Atlantic City, and the L&O television show; I knew that dirt bag Flaw Scamafart, would make a trade-up deal to avoid prison. Where would that dirt-bag mother ****** be able to get his teenaged blood in prison? He is 70 ******* years old. Has anyone noticed that he is not getting old like the rest of us poor ******* slobs?

In Plankatory, we don't have time. No event is ever before or ahead of any other event. It is not even possible to imagine a timeless endless existence. Humans think WOW, sounds great. It's not great. Endlessness sucks!!!

END TRANSMISSION.

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Tuesday, October 9, 2018

BLOG 43 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

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