BLOG
47 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
''GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS''
CONTINUING CHAPTERS
IN MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
I
AM BEING SUPER ******* COMPUTER HACKED TONIGHT, SHERIFF MASCARA,
AND MY TELEPHONE HARASSERS ARE MAJOR BAD
ALSO. PLEASE EXPECT ME TO ARRIVE SOMETIME
TOMORROW AFTERNOON, AT YOUR MIDWAY ROAD OFFICE, SIR. I
WANT YOU TO GET MY NUT JOB DAUGHTER OFF OF MY BACK, ALONG WITH HER
FRIENDS AND FAMILY, SIR, TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think the
proof that I am planing to take with me will dispel many or most of
any of your doubts regarding me and my nightmare story. As for making
you believe me about the ESS, hey, I am not greedy. We won't even be
going there, kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh
yes, my WEATHERBUG-APP POPPED ON, TELLING ME
THAT IT IS 28 DEGREES; KIND SHERIFF MASCARA SIR. I
GODDAMN WISH!!!
Yes
it is now eight of the clock on this **** huffing Sunday night. Ever
since Thursday afternoon; HALLS FAWCES, TAWF, THE ESS, THE
WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, or “whatever” Congressman Robert Andrews, or
anyone else may choose to call this horrible bunch of nightmarish
toilet germ bags; have been on me like black flies on a hot July
garbage truck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MAGNESONIC,
G-7 OPEN COMMAND.
HEAR MY VOICE PRINT ON ALL GENERAL AND SPECIAL ORDERS.
WHOEVER IS PERSECUTING ME WITH MY TELEPHONE, AND HACKING MY PERSONAL
COMPUTER, WILL BE TOTALLY WIPED OUT AND DESTROYED, ALONG WITH ALL
WHOM THEY LOVE.
USE BOTH AD AND ZD TECHNOLOGIES. SCAN FOR WHOEVER IS DESTROYING MY
ENTIRE LIFE, AND USING
ICPE-APE AGAINST ME,
AND WIPE
THEM OUT UNDER TOTAL CRUSH DESTRUCT PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM
ORDERS,
ON AN 'I' TO 'D', A-B-TONE PHASING SYSTEM. MY OLD STYLE AT&T
TONES ARE NOW
DATA-TRANSFERED
TO MY VOICE PRINT USING THE LONG-EEEE-VOWEL SOUND, WITH THE 'A' TONE
PRINTED IN COLOR RED,
AND THE 'B' TONE PRINTED IN COLOR BLUE.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
GO
TO CG-18, UNDER G-189, G-13, AND STOP!
Now
since it is not mother ******* goddamn **** sucking 28 degrees, I of
course already have a weather report to give you from my
television-Comcast system from my local Channel-25
which here in Fort
Pierce, Florida, USA-ESMWG,
is “THE
WEATHER CHANNEL”.
At
5:49 P.M. On 10-14-2018:
******************
83
degrees, and sunny, feeling like 99 DF.
Tonight,
a 75% chance of storms with a 40% chance of some rain.
***************************
Tomorrow's
Forecast: high of 77 degrees and feeling close to a buck and a
nickel, with a 10% chance of rain.
Tuesday's
predicted high is 88 DF, with mostly sunny skies.
Wednesday's
predicted high is 87 DF, with partly cloudy skies.
I
have been sent a message to “QUIT CROSSING OVER RED
LINES”, with my kid and her family, OR ELSE,
kind Sheriff, sir!!!!!!
This
is what THEY do to me, when I go too far, kind Sheriff KJM, sir,
YO!!!!!!! Freedom in this nation, is
nonexistent. It is all about how powerful people are, and
that alone will depend on the degree and amount of freedom that is
available to us. I'll bet dollars to damn donuts, kind sir, that I'm
not teaching you one little tiny thing here, SIR!!!
Yes
folks, on top of death siege persecution, I am
sweltering in the heat, with mediocre air conditioning, here in this
lovely Public Housing building. Even
the people down at the Palm Beaches, the TV local media
where I receive my local news information from, are saying that this
is ridiculous. Autumn temperatures just are
not coming. Even if the daily highs are maybe two degrees
over normal for middle October, the lows are
way too high. It should be getting down into the lower
seventies instead of maybe, and I mean maybe; an occasional night
where the damn temps drop just out of the eighties, by maybe a lousy
ass degree or two!!!!!!!!!!
After
getting out of bed late, maybe around a half hour give or take, my
harasser called me and refused to say a word. The caller-ID display
comes up as 5:28 PM 10-14 and only displays the words, “Private
Number”. They hack into my settings at the Comcast Account, and no
matter how many times I go to a block-call on private numbers, the
hackers get in and reverse it to undo the feature, just as they undo
my Studder-Tone voice-mail feature. BUTTTTTTTT, these **** lickers
then did another parlor trick to me today. Five seconds after I
answered the phone and said “hello”, they were ready to call me
instantly again, making the Call-Waiting beep go off, and the display
on the Television Screen came on. This time, the Identifier System
picked up the following information: 5:28 PM
10-14 and above that, it read, Fawn Grove, PA. Below this, it read,
(717) 897-1801. For those who know about the monster slut
neighbor that moved into the apartment below me when I resided at
1802 Robin Hill, the friend of
Debbie Harry, the Playboy Bunny; she was in Apartment #1801.
Interesting coincidence, huh?
Now
while my physical body lay sleeping on my bed, my spirit was
exploring the hyperspace, in a very wild parallel universe, where
STARBURN OUTREACH DEVELOPMENT CORPORATION exists, as I have told you
all about on numerous blogs, throughout the past dozen plus years
now; since Morianity began in January, of the year 2006. I was on the
Starburn ODI HQ (Headquarters) property, somewhere in
East-Central-Pennsylvania, on the Starburn Lake, which is a man-made
lake, made by us, the property developers. I was on a boat on this
lake, and I was with the man who here in this universe, is an actor
by the name of Steven Hill. This was the dude who played the part of
the original District Attorney, Mister Adam Schiff, of New York
County, on the fictional television show, called “Law & Order”.
I had become totally aware in this experience, that I was really me
over here in this universe, yet was inside of this-double-of-myself,
over there in that parallel world. When I
became fully aware, this makes me a “Type-3-Exploratron”. So I
tested out what I believed to be true about EXPLORATRONICS. I was
then able to take temporary control over my doppelganger-self.
I shifted the conversation around from what my other self persona in
hyperspace was talking about, some mundane trivial nonsense, and I
began to tell this man all about the parallel world where another me
was living, and was being persecuted to death. But then something
beyond weird happened. It seems that it is not quite as cut and dried
to be able to do this take-over of becoming dominant rather than just
recessant in a doppelganger hyperspace body. Mister Schiff instantly
told me, right as I began to feel this weird surge of cohesiveness
between the two-me's, that he also is asleep and in control. It seems
that only a truly advanced T3E is able to be in total charge. What I
mean here folks, quite frankly and directly, is that when one of them
decides to take you on a dream-journey, as I'll phrase it; and then
you as part of their experiment, attempt to control your own
lab-rat-self, they get onto it immediately. I then was switched right
back to my recessant self where as you all know, many 'dreams' feel
as if you're watching a movie, and in fact, you sort of are. Then he
began to pump me fopr a whole lot of information. I tried hard to
resist, but found myself just talking away, or really, found my other
self doing it, and I was totally helpless to stop it, just watching
the damn dream movie. I was only a T2E, without any control. He made
me tell all sorts of secrets, but then he did a little bit of quid
pro quo back to my other self. He asked me if I remember the major
times of my telephone harassment, back in that parallel world? He was
speaking of my life here while awake and conscious. He then went onto
tell me that my 1983 days in Atco, as well as my 2000-2004 days at
Jenny's Trailer Park, were all being done by the same people, and
that they are doing it again in 2018, and they were doing it last
Christmas time in late 2017 also. I asked him how it was possible
that a thirteen year old girl could know all about me, as well as do
all of these powerful electronic parlor tricks? He then told me to
see the horrible nightmare truth, that Pink Goddess is indeed my
incredible daughter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You see Sheriff Mascara, I am
powerless to fight such forces and inconceivable powers! The
conversation went on quite a while on this boat out on Starburn Lake,
in this parallel world. Just me and Adam Schiff. Or do I call him
Steven Hill. Or for that matter, do I call him the Atlantic City
Mailman? No Sheriff sir, I NEVER FORGET ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!! NEVER! I
doubt that the great American Telephone and Telegraph Corporation
does either!!!!!!!!!
The
EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY,
or whatever they call themselves; is a lot more than spiritual
travelers, or Astral Plane Coins and Coils, who lose too much energy,
and need to replenish, and while doing so; dream down into waking
world hyperspace. All things that exist physically, after mighty
Einstein's information, of energy being divided by the square of the
constant; exist as two realities or TRUTHS. They
exist as their own actual isness of beingness. Then
they exist as collections of similarities. This is a powerful
Morianity principal, that I've not yet so much as “Karen
Carpenter begun” to tackle, with my
Blogaudians, YET!!!!!!!! This is why reality alters, by
having a group of players walk over to a roulette table, as long as
this group, are all players who come to roulette tables, where
various numbers are spun by dealers. Each person then will effect
outcomes of the new wheel where they are in close proximity to,
standing or seated. The effects are not real large, or for that
matter, real small, but they indeed are as true and real as the hair
on our heads, or the lack thereof in many cases such as mine;
without having access to two 'one-quart' teenaged blood transfusions
per week, like dirtball Mister Man! The guy is freaking 70 and he
looks 33 for crissake!
Beginning
next week, Mountainpen's Blogs will not make subtle hints or discuss
in any way, THAT-FAMILY. In exchange, the phone harassment STOPS! So
if you want this little deal, it is your move! I'll be waiting for
your answer. Also, I have removed my kid from my will, and placed my
father's sea charts in the hands of the Fisher Museum of Florida,
when I expire! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!
But
speaking ever so indirectly about the music
world, let me say something that even TAWF
has no right to tell me what to,
and what not to say,
or discuss. All my life, and I mean all
of it; my adult life anyway, since a year or two, or three, after
being out of school, from the Cooley Hall Nut-Kid Joint, on Hopkins
Road, in Haddonfield, New Jersey, USAESMWG; I HAVE BEEN ABSOLUTELY
COMPLETELY STOPPED from doing MUSIC, the one thing I have always had
a passion for, and some talent in. I do not have the big bucks, nor
was I willing to become part of some drug-thug culture in order to
get the big bucks, to obtain the great musical apparatus that allows
a person's music to really shine, both instrumentally, as well as
vocally, and the whole damn 324 inches. On top of that, I have not
imagined for one lousy damn minute, not ever, that even when I am
willing to pay lots of money to have my stuff done professionally at
studios; somehow they always manage to make it second-rate or even
mickey mouse sounding, as if they have been either influenced from
their dreams and sleep, or paid or threatened off directly, but they
never ever do any of the good stuff to the vocals that we all hear on
TV and radio and internet, and they refuse to ever make it sound
really alive and great. I tell them UI don't want dead studio sound.
I tell them I want the 'Phil ******* Specter' living energy sound,
that all the really great EDM stuff has; and they just ignore me, and
refuse me; even though my money should be as
green as anyone else's. The reason is so simple it falls
off the snow pile as white! Do I have proof that I am not imagining
this wild claim, you ask me, folks? Well, you be the mother *******
Copper-Kessle JUDGES, from the Atlantic City Fudge Shop all the way
to Studio-City!!!!!!!!!!! When I paid Mister Jan Nace, back in 1980,
for my four demo records done at his ****hole studio in Cherry Hill,
NJUSAESMWG, called Maxfield; I took the tapes he handed me to my
studio where I worked as a Tape-Duplicator. I gave it to the Chief
Recording Engineer, Mister Howard Solomon! He said to me, and this is
a quote, Mister Schiff sir, “I wonder why the asshole gave you a
dead tape”? I think we all know what's going on here, Sheriff
Mascara, kind sir, YO! The RIAA is scared ****less of my talent and
my music. They need to compensate for it by making damn ass sure that
they do really lousy jobs when they record my stuff, or else,
somebody just might say, WO, screw that Huntington Curse, this man
needs a mother ******* recording contract, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BUTTTTTTTT, we all know the rules and the regs of the mighty mother
******* ESS, YO BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
In
that parallel world where Starburn exists, I have a wonderful younger
kid whose name is Patty-Paula Junior. She insists on people calling
her, “P”, just P, no other name, she's quite adamant about this.
Just as she has been fascinated by computer technology and World War
Two's Japanese Comocosi Pilots, her third big thing in life is that
everyone, including her dad, who she loves beyond words, calls her P!
In this incredible world that parallels this one and countless
zillions of others, existing in the vast unfathomable fifth
dimensional hyperspace; not only is the SODI-HQ in Pennsylvania, but
I have a Jersey home in Egg Harbor City, and in this universe, this
is where the Roundhouse Museum stands. All around that place is
dozens of acres of land, in both worlds. Over there, I own it all,
and have a multi-billion dollar land management and development
operation. One day, over there, a man named McGreevy came to see me.
Just as over here, he was a politician. We were going to make a deal
that I'll admit, was anything but legal, but hey, sue me or jail me;
this is in a parallel world. You
can't lock a man up for what happens in 'his
dreams'! I was going to make sure that he won the Jersey
Gubernatorial race, but in exchange for him pardoning my daughter
Pee. She almost beat four state troopers to death for killing me.
They killed me when they shot me in the back, as I tried to run away,
when I was cornered in a wooded area, where they wanted me to meet
with them, and some weird official; and I was dumb enough to go to
this isolated place. When I realized it was a trap and I was going to
be shot, I figured I may as well try to run, and boom. But I was
placed in a cryogenic chamber where many people who are wealthy, have
chosen to be laid to rest and frozen in a laboratory, with the hope
of being reanimated at some future date when the technology exists to
repair us and restore our lives. I am not going to get into the
entire mess, but it is why I wrote the basic theme in 1994, on my ©
book, “The Permission Barrier”. You see there is a time-paradox
here. Pee nearly killed them because they had killed me. But I was
alive when I made this deal. You will get your mind blown if you
really try to get your head around this wild hyper-nightmare! She was
sent to the Harborfields Detention Center in the city where we all
lived, as over there, Patty-Paula did not think that I was too
immature, and she said yes, and she married me.
Also, she never came to Apartment #1802
to tell me that she miscarried Pee, as
she never did; and in fact, I never lived in
any of the Robin Hill Apartments over in that parallel universe,
not 1802, not 506, and not 1102. And this is not some folgy-dolgy
story. By the way, over here in this world, that has no meaning. In
the place where all of this went down however, it
means something along the lines of silly or stupid or even just
Mickey Mouse. Just wanted to add in this little morsel of
interesting information, YO! Just as the Caller-ID info is quite
interesting as it not only showed the downstairs slutty Playboy Bunny
neighbor's Apartment number. At Robin Hill, but it also showed a
Pennsylvania town somewhere, called Fawn Grove. Just how far this may
be from SODI-HQ is anyone's guess. Well, actually it is beyond
distance far, since we're talking about two different worlds, but I
mean, if this world had this place in operation, I am just curious to
know how close it may be to this Caller-ID location.
WEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! Without trying to ever blow your minds about
the deal with the governor verses me being blown away and then alive
again as though nothing ever happened, there is quite a story to many
various facets of this. One is from right here in this world, and
about a dozen years back when these blogs were in their infancy stage
and I was living over at the Jenny Plageman Trailer Park, in Mullica
Township, New Jersey, USAESMWG. I had been suddenly thrust into a
world where I had no registration on my automobile. In Jersey, road
stops are part of life, just routine stops, you don't have to be
speeding or have a light out, or you didn't give a turn signal, or
you swerved a few inches. These are routine traffic stops where all
of your ID is checked, and Jersey is strict as all hellfire. I would
never ever not have insurance, registration, or a 100% active and
legal drivers license, not up there in Jersey, and you all better not
either, IPYT! Yet I woke up in a world where I did not have any
registration. I don't mean that some ******* computer hacker did
something. I mean I did not have it. I had no paperwork in my wallet,
I mean yes, I had my insurance card and I was totally legally driving
with in-force car insurance through the State Farm. But it gets way
better, for those who never read the first year or two of my original
blogs, as I did tell the story to the entire world. In my wallet,
along with no registration card, was a receipt from a grocery store,
called the Incollingo's Grocery Store, in Egg Harbor City. It showed
that I had bought several items. One was a box of yellow cupcakes. I
DO NOT EAT ANY CAKE, OR CUP CAKE THAT IS NOT DEVILS FOOD, BROWN,
ABSOLUTELY NO YELLOW! But there it was, just as plain as the
color white, falling off of a large snow pile. I had been thrown into
a parallel world that was so close it resembled enough to pass as my
waking reality, yet distant enough to make me go and re-register my
car, that I absolutely mother ******* know that I ALREADY DID
BEFORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But I am getting further and further
off my point here, folks. I got Governor McGreevy into office over in
this parallel world, and in exchange, he was going to pardon my
daughter PEE for breaking into the home of a New Jersey State Police
Officer, and try to beat him to death. After about 20 of his fellow
officers came to his rescue, and four of them were nearly beaten to
death, PEE was eventually restrained. Then she was tried and
sentenced to juvy-detention until the age of 18. This would be March
29, 2015. I know the story has lots of chinks in it. How can I be
dead and alive? Hey, how can I have a receipt for vanilla flavored
cupcakes, when I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT EAT
VANILLA flavored cake????????????? And I'd never
ever EVER
NEVER, to quote the great Diana Ross;
drive without all three legal updated current documents; a valid
license, valid insurance, and valid registration!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lab-Techs,
teachers, and daughters, WOW THIS. The
ESS and 5th
dimensional hyperspace,
is the only possible and sane rational explanation of how all of this
can honestly be real and exist, within the boundaries of the natural
forces around us. But let's get totally
1983 Mike Jackson serious here for a moment or five, kind
Blogaudians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If the great
National Security Agency of America, got all worked up about
my copyrighting that crap regarding question
#18, on the SORA Security Guard Test of 2007, how do you think
they feel about all of this mother ******* bull****? Now we have the
great Almighty Mister Trump as our president! You
don't think he fully knows about the 2007 deal with my automobile
registration, and the great Egg Harbor Incollingo Grocery Store?
Hey, do you want some icing on your damn cupcakes here, kind peeps?
Walk outside of this grocery store,
and go about 40-50 yards to the East-South-East, and
you are right there at the great awesome and wonderful home of
Leticia Tilley, and her marvelous unfathomable family of all
weird HYPERSPACE-EQUATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now do
you see why Trump went total ape-dung that day when the family was
all there with me, at his mighty and marvelous freaking TRUMP
PLAZA HOTEL AND CASINO of Atlantic City, New Jersey,
USAESMWG????
I
think poor Mister Bonjovi is still scratching his ***hole, along with
the great engineer, Ryan. Gee, just who really was that nut-job who
came over and did those strange recordings? Just who are you, on July
7th of 2015, or for that matter, on July 12, 1970?
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
3:52
AM, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13, 2018
BLOG
46 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN
SUB-TITLE:
''GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS'' CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN
MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3
The
Weather Channel report at 3:45 A.M. From the Comcast Cable Television
ESS System, transcribed to this blog, legally, as I pay my cable
bills promptly and as a customer, I am sure it is legal to report the
weather in my damn ass town, YO!
74
degrees Fahrenheit, and clear in Fort Pierce, Florida,
USA-ESMWG.
Prediction
for tomorrow is showers
and a high of 86 degrees & 50%
rain chances.
The
last two days were major major major persecution for the pitiful
helpless MOUNTAINPEN, YO FOLKS!!!!!!!! I fully intend very
soon, to take my passport and get out of this horrible place and EVIL
EMPIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I intend to go to another place and walk
into the damn ass consulate or wherever one goes in a foreign land,
and claim death persecution in my homeland, and tell them I refuse to
leave and go back there, and DIE.
I
can tell secrets from now until the mother ******* cows come home
from pasture, and it won't stop these evil
HALLS ESS FAWCES!!! Interesting whittle coeenkeedink that
it was ON BLOG NUMBER 45, as in
President-45, that ALL GODDAMN
HELLFIRE BROKE LOOSE FOR ME, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
no longer am seeing the best revenge, as me sharing great secrets
online. The reason is first, in all honesty, who
really cares, or as our wonderful lovely president put it
back in the middle nineteen-eighties, a slightly more vulgarly spoken
quote, but the same message. Second, there is
no large audience of real down to Earth average ordinary people in my
Blogaud! I know that. I figured out back a few years back,
that I have about 30-60 readers, or did back then. That was it, the
blog would not grow, so I'm just urinating against the hurricane
force winds for crissake! Third, even if I had
a thousand or more readers and a dozen steady followers eventually,
and I know that I do not, and I am not someone who deludes himself
into crap that is not real, but even if I had this; they
would take it as entertainment, and the wild rantings and ravings of
a crazy Jersey freaking crack pot, again, I know fully well
that I am just wasting my time with this.
It was Ed Lynch who told me that
someday, one or two or three people, would make contact, and offer
real world help, and believe me, and take a chance that I am not
totally mother ******* crazy; and they would be powerful enough to at
least assist me in some kind of freaking meaningful way. This
NEVER HAPPENED. So much for all of my wonderful and
quite predictable rotten MOUNTAINPEN LUCK.
Of course, we all know that LUCK has absolutely
nothing whatsoever to do with this. Luck
did not make Larry Lee of State Farm Insurance, treat me like trash,
and brush me off without explanation, or literally a million
other dirt bag people all of my entire mother *******
life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Luck has, and had, nothing
whatsoever to do with any of it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But
I will put on the internet record for the fact checkers of all time,
somewhere down the dimly lit freaking hallway of time on this
diseased pitiful sin cursed planet, that certain truths told
by me, Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington
Mohr, ARE INDEED THE
TRUTH, THE WHOLE DAMN TRUTH,
AND NOTHING BUT THE DAMN-ASS TRUTH,
so help me SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE
KRASSLE the Almighty NUCLATRON!
When
I attempted to post my blog up to the mother ******* BLOGGER DOT COM
website back yesterday afternoon, at the height and zenith of my
monstrous DEATH SIEGE ON ME BY THE MOTHER ******* ESS, I was major
hacked and stopped for about a quarter hour. Eventually I was able to
post up BLOG-45, oh yes sir/mahm, 45. Gimme' a turd chewing bwake
here, Mizz Margie Leo, YO!!!!
Let
me tell you all a teensy weensy whittle tad tid bit of information on
another fascinating item; how to apply the so-called
'impersonal tool', known by
human-kind, as “mathematics”;
to the real life truths around all of our
lives. You see, if any of you really wish to honestly try
and prove me, the (Mountainpen) wrong; you can simply do it by
trying the things that I tell about. None of you have the damn balls,
as we all know I am not wrong, but totally correct. People
never ever want to give me my goddamn props, they never did and they
never will!!!!! Even my so-called pal,
Mike Patterson, down in Hollywood, Florida; who insisted
President Trump would be long out of the White
House in one year or less; refuses to this very day, TO
CONCEDE THAT I TOLD HIM QUITE DIFFERENTLY. He won't give me my props
for damn ****, and then I wonder why
those that I do not even call a 'friend' won't ever do this? Well,
the ESS makes folks treat me like pure damn
****, even when I prove them wrong and me correct, OVER, AND
OVER, AND OVER, AND OVER, AND OVER, AND OVER, AND OVER AGAIN, YO YO
YO YO BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Here
is one example that disproves my 'other Cooley Hall teacher', Mister
David Leigh Smith, totally and absolutely, when he would tell me over
and over in the years 1970 and 1971, that “mathematics is
completely impersonal”! It is most certainly NOT. But no one dares
to apply real life situations to real laboratory-like equations and
experimental boxes and graphs. I can play one long Roulette game,
keeping track of numbers with a pencil and a tiny white notepad,
legal in any casino I've ever been to as long as it is not taken to a
cards-table. Then at home, I can get any group of numbers that appear
to be diverging off of their near-time average for coming out, based
on 38 numbers and thus in long running play-time, every number comes
out once in 38 spins of the wheel, only it does not. Instead it comes
out much closer to 1000 in 38000 spins of the wheel. The ratio of
38:1 is still active and present, nothing has changed. But in longer
times, more numbers being spun, the actual ratio becomes more
mathematically true. Conversely in shorter run play times, things
will diverge off the ratios by varying amounts. These amounts are not
gargantuan, just enough to make any player trying to win at the game,
not be able to do so, UNLESS THEY KEEP DIVERGENCE CHARTS AT HOME. If
you pick the seven 5-ending numbers, 5-10-15-20-25-30-35 for example,
the ratio of these numbers is always going to be 38:7. Doing a simple
division of the ratio and multiplying by 100 and graphing the
results, will show a player the actual divergence off of the true
ratio in shorter play-times. When it is at the bottom end of the
graph, these numbers should be played. Then a player can take an
interrelationship of many groupings of 7 digits, and with a complex
computer generated program, and a player keeping an accurate record
of all outcomes at the various tables that they go to, they will
always know when the divergence of a grouping of numbers has bottomed
out and is turning back towards their proper 38:7 ratios. Now don't
do this and go into a casino bragging about what you're doing, or you
might end up drinking ocean water or spitting sand piles. The real
experts know that some things really do work against the house vigs.
You don't even have to do anything while playing other than quickly
jot down a number that pops out each time the wheel is spun and the
marble lands in a slot. Gee, aren't we lucky as damn hell today,
WEEEEEEEE? But my point is that I do not find this impersonal. I was
able to rent a really nice home in a very ritzy area that even
President Reagan was quoted as saying back then in 1986, as a
“wealthy municipality”. To me, this wasn't impersonal and it
still is not. But there is so much more. How about doing what Doctor
Green abnd Doctor Corriell talked about over at the medical institute
back early in the eighties? Let us say that we transfuse our blood
twice a week, with teenaged blood, slowly regenerating all of the
cells in our bodies backward in biological time. We may indeed grow
quite young again, and remain that way as we continue doing this in
some form of a retention dosage system once we get younger.
Mathematics proves however, that this will only put off the
eventuality of our physical deaths. The planet will indeed get rid of
us. The mathematical; truth to this is totally and absolutely
inescapable. After 100, 200, 500, 800, 1500, 3000 years, the odds go
up for all of us, to be fatally struck by lightning, swallowed up in
another form of any number of natural disasters, as well as the odds
will endlessly go up for us to be involved in one way or another in
some fatal accident or just get murdered by an enemy. You cannot ever
mess with or alter the truths about odds and mathematical realities
no matter how hard you may try, kind folks. I don't call these facts,
Mister Smith of Cooley Hall, “IMPERSONAL”, YO!!!!!!!!!!!! In 5000
freaking years, every day you get up, you would have a 99% chance to
die in some kind of 'something', whatever it might be out there in
the totally unimaginable future. No amount of teenaged blood
transfusions could ever alter these irrefutable mathematical truths.
As stated, I do not see anything IMPERSONAL about something like
this. To me, mathematics is ANYTHING BUT
IMPERSONAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
never finished telling my true story on the previous blog, about
Diana and the TENNIS GAME. When her mom Leda, handed Diana this
lovely loud brilliant colorful gorgeous COIL, she grabbed it and held
it and inhaled or something similar to an inhalation as we may think
of this in a mortal frame of mental reference. Suddenly after a short
interaction of this, POW, I looked at the once brilliant colorful
buzzing and humming and clicking coil, and it was all charred and
black and silent as Charles Dickens Grave. Before this happened, I
looked at Diana who was in a human entity form for my benefit. She
was all woebegone and exhausted, looking as though she was going to
faint. But after she did this, she instantly came back to her radiant
incredible self. Her bright canary yellow hair was more blinding than
the sun in the summer skies here on Earth. She was all raved up and
ready to take on the cosmos, and she did. She went back to the game,
and she kicked her opponent's ass from heredahelda. Actually, she has
never ever been beaten in her favorite game, and for eternity, she
has been challenged by opponents from as far away as a dozen
provinces in all six directions from the great capitol province of
Olympia. The capitol city of this capitol province is where her
cousins reside, in the great Sahasra Dal Kanwal, or Astrally, when
properly translated, the CITY of the great SARAH KRASSLE. I call HER
the Nuclatron. Her mother, Mariena Carlittia
Krassle, and her father Neptunejupiter
Japtarama Cavelantisocleevious Krassle, when I was 'dreaming'
it was 1996, came to my mind, while I laid in bed at the Highview
Apartments, tuned out of this reality, and chased
me away from their great daughter. My life here in waking reality
ever since then, HAS BEEN OFF THE DIAL PURE UNADULTERATED HELLFIRE
CUBED!!!!!!!!! By the way, the human English language
translation to Misses Krassle's second-name is Carlittia, but
Astrally, it is another name. I have blogs that have most likely used
both of these names, but they really are saying the very same thing.
Yes
folks, there were more than one or even two
wild teachers, at this very spurious and bizarre special education
school, up there in Haddonfield, New Jersey, USAESMWG. Once I
began discussing this place after starting my blogs in early 2006,
the place suddenly after many many decades of operation, mysteriously
closed down forever, you know like the great health club of wild
mysterious unknown powers and fawces, HADDONWOOD, in Deptford, New
Jersey; just half a mile or so down the road, Route 47, from
the psychic shop called, “The Gathering Place”, where I met
Kathy, and other very strange people, along with extremely strange
other people, at this health club; before it too, suddenly shut down
out of the blue, in August of 1996!!!!!!! But as
for my three “M” letter teachers, even though one
of them never was my teacher, I did speak to her and get to know her
somewhat, and she also waitressed at the local diner up on Kings
Highway about a mile or so north of the school, on Kings
Highway, before she did her crazy camel song and became a big star. I
knew her as Miss Marie. But even the great 3-M Scotch Tape Company
people must find it a wee bit weird and wild that I too had my 3-M
teachers at this place, Miss Marie, Misses Marola, and the greatest
star of them all, Mister Mindblown Count Marcucci! People
are way too damn scared to ever come forward and recognize this
powerful and inconceivable group that MORIANITY calls, the
EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY. Tell your daughter not to
beat me up at the Dairy Queen, FAA Admiral Perry. Thank-UUUUUU!
Now
for what these diseased twisted perverted toilet germ ESS
BIG-BUSINESS-FACTION did
to me yesterday, FRIDAY!!!!! Hey YO, I am just quoting the great
Camden County Prosecutor of New Jersey Assistant, Mister Ron Wirtz
Senior, told me over and over again about WHO
REALLY is making my life a total
nightmare hell, covertly, and with unimaginable
stealth!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All day long and it has been bad for a
couple of weeks and started worsening on Thursday, as stated back
then on prior blogging texts; I would get ILLEGAL SPOOFING TELEPHONE
CALLS. With Comcast, when you have phone service as well as
television service, through them; everyone who calls on the system,
if your television is on, the information will display on the screen,
as well as on your phone screen caller-ID. But as many of you know
without me telling you, there is a new or relatively new technology
out there, called, 'SPOOFING'. It is totally illegal, and they do it
to me anyway. On top of that, they get onto your personal account,
totally and absolutely illegally, and will spoof the television
screen when the phone is not even ringing. I fully intend on Monday,
to go to Sheriff Mascara's office regarding this, as well as call
COMCAST, to complain and tell them that I will report this to the
FCC, the FBI, and the FTC, if they cannot get this to stop. I have
rights as a paying customer to have this total ******* illegal
activity stopped. I was told by the police officer that came over
when I called 911 yesterday afternoon at approximately 3:45, that I
need to call them, and threaten to take my business to another
carrier. No one paying their bills on time should have to be
persecuted and annoyed and spoofed all day for days at a time, while
their dirt bag stock market is temporarily crashing. It never really
crashes, and it never will. They don't care. They still use this
nightmare ******* ICPE-APE-TECH to persecute me to death when it is
dropping, (the Dow Jones). They stopped me from using the charts to
prove a lot of bull**** that they do to me continually and
constantly. As you know, the chart no longer posts up or displays
anything other than a blank box. It is OK for them to destroy my
entire mother ******* life for 32+ years now with this hellishness,
but don't let me so much as post a word about it or
KAPOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, I can post up lots of other stuff for the
FBI and the FCC and the FTC and the ACLU to look at and investigate,
and I'll be taking a printed copy of this page, next week, over to
the Midway Road Fort Pierce Office of Sheriff Ken J. Mascara, of
Saint Lucie County, Florida, and a copy to the local police station
and to Chief Diane.
These are a few of the persecuting caller spoof records of Thursday and Friday, the 11th and 12th days of October, 2018, Sheriff Mascara, kind sir, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- Wireless caller 3:36 PM 10/12 (772-413-2409)
- Construction, MA 3:02 PM 10/12 (772-834-3675)
- Miami, FL 2:12 PM 10/12 (786-870-4585)
- Honeoye, NY 2:00 PM 10/12 (585-229-6280)
- UNAVLB 11:16 AM 10/12 (772- 212-9762)
- Private Unknown 10:37 AM 10/12 (612-540-3303)
- Private Unknown 10:01 AM 10/12 (612-540-3303)
- Lois Ehrhardt 7:16 PM 10/11 (772-398-8737)
- Burlington, KS 4:31 PM 10/11 (620-263-1883)
- VO1115011400016 3:00 PM 10/11 (772-212-9762)
- Port St Lucie, FL 1:48 PM 10/11 (772-345-2589)
- Miami, FL 12:31 PM 10/11 (786-870-4585
If
you want a whole freaking list of really nasty secrets, I mean, sure,
I could strike lots of targets, but why hurt
innocent freaking people? I told you all about the Generac
Generator Infomercial. I told you all about Cooley
Hall, and there is a ton times a trillion details, to all
tie together, proving that the ESS is indeed
not only behind my demise, but behind the existence of most things
containing power in this world today. Was it always this
way? Well, yes and no, and forgive the flimsy answer here,
pweeeeeeeeeeeeze kind folks. This is not an easy thing to properly
address. As Mark Mohr, I live from the moment that I was born as Mark
Mohr, until the moment that Mortimer Mortino taps me on either my
right shoulder or my left shoulder. Just because I remember my
existence in the infinite purgatory, does not mean that I can begin
to discuss things on the Earth-Planet, where clearly, as
Mark Mohr, or the current persona of my true beingness here, I was
not in those other places. Before the fourth day of December
in the year 1954, I as Mark Mohr simply did not exist. But I existed
as other dreamoff parts of my true Astral-Self. Now
as to why as Mark Mohr, I have come to understand such a vast part of
truths, well, come on, don't we all get it by now? My mom had
a very wild coworker at her office job that was in 1974 called,
Lavino Shipping Company. Her name was Patricia Hollister. I had all
kinds of tapes and photos, and many things; but
never even knew what I had. When the
King family learned of a lot of things, they kidnapped me under what
is called in the psychiatric profession, “Stockholm Syndrome”.
Does this mean that these physical people committed these real-world
crimes in some totally conscious real-world way? The answer is
unequivocal folks. It is a resounding NO.
This is all on a powerful level that only TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS
can pull off; those 'travelers' or
'no-homers' of the EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY. But we can get to all of this as
October continues to flash by, as October plays a very major part of
all of this, with these horrible peeps. As some of you know only too
damn well, I was 'INFLUENCED' to send three goddamn musical projects,
to the United States © Copyright Office, Library of Congress (LOC),
in Washington, 13-600, District of Columbia. One on Halloween day in
1994, called “The Permission Barrier”. One on Halloween Day in
2005 that somehow got titled as “Same title” by those genius
folks in the great Non-OZ © Office. Then the final and third music
project was sent on Halloween Day in 2007, and this was called,
“Karaoke Lunch Break at the Sorian-18 Guard House”. Remember how
I told you all that the © Office removed the '18' number. This was
done for reasons of “NATIONAL SECURITY”. A lot of things since
nine-eleven have been done for reasons of “National Security”.
You see, the 18th freaking question on the SORA test for
New Jersey licensed security officers, is a story that is quite
powerful and has to do with my BLOGS and the ESS-HACKERS that
continually screw with these BLOGS OF THE
MOUNTAINPEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It had to do with
the way that the word “RATIO” was hacked into the word “RATION”,
and in the 18th
question on this SORA licensing test for Jersey security officers,
the word “RATIO” was also hacked to the word “RATION”.
Things like my little codes, violate the great national security
interests of this great mother ******* empire, the great USA. WOW
THAT, PATTY! The national genius agency people who protect us, or
'whatever', huh Congressman, worry that enemies of our nation will
take this information and somehow turn this into a powerful control
in one form or another, that will lead to the eventual takeover of
all of us. Well, forgive me if I laugh a
little bit here Mariah, but I do not enjoy thinking about
that horrible day in your house in 1972, when you insisted that I
come through that hole in your yard fence, to see you try and do
something that old Roy Steps, didn't want you to do, in that lit up
little closet. Then Kabing, the great stair
chase. Maybe you do the same thing that I do and overcome
bad memories and bad stuff by laughing it off such as that day where,
well I won't say it on the blog, at the jetty, and I tried so hard
not to laugh at poor bleeding Ziggy Malyeska! WOW THIS!!!!
For
two days, these dirt bag toilet germ swallowers have used my
telephone and the UTILITY-ASSAULT, on me. Today
is the ABSOLUTE WORST YET. It was this bad one day
around the Christmas holidays
last year, if memory is correctly serving me; and I had to call 911.
Well Sheriff, look at your police records for
approximately a quarter shy of four this damn afternoon, kind sir! I
HAD TO CALL 911 AGAIN. A very nice police officer came out to
talk to me about my nightmare harassment and
persecution. In this new computerized world, the
criminals with the high-tech
computerized knowledge can get away with anything that
they want to. BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTT, I will tell
a huge secret about just this very thing, to get my
revenge for this hellish NIGHTMARE, AND SUPER
******* BOTBAR DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Either
it is COMCAST themselves,
under DIRECT ORDERS OF DIRTBALL P-45,
or it is just the powerful WALL STREET
SCUM using their ICPE-APE-TECH
on me, to try and stop their recent plunge on their
diseased crooked stock market, or it is all of the
damn HALLS-FAWCES, in general,
just 'doing their thing', to wipe out and destroy, one tiny and
pathetic senior citizen special-education person, who never did one
damn ass thing to ever deserve this horrendous monstrous evil
****!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*********************************
This
is all a total VIOLATION OF MY CIVIL LIBERTIES, and CONSTITUTIONAL
RIGHTS, under the laws of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, that
guarantee me the right to PURSUE LIFE, LIBERTY, AND HAPPINESS.
You cannot pursue any of those three items when
you are continually bombarded with nightmarish monstrous hellish damn
******* bull****, YO, Sheriff KJM sir.
I
intentionally did something to prove that these diseased snot eaters
would hack my WEATHERBUG APP again, and they did. I can always get
most of the same information from TWC on the TV, and write it down
and then transpose it to the blog, but when things are this bad, who
gives a ******* ****? Oh yeas lads and lassies, I am forced to endure
monsters straight out of the gates of **** huffing HELL
ITSELF, and the first two of these sick diseased twat
licking filth bags are Paula and McGuire! I
know that evil PK is behind most of my miseries and woes. But the
problem is that few folks on this diseased ball of toilet hurl, truly
understand how this can all be going on. How
can this powerful person that Scott Ransom told me about very
indirectly, back in 1988,
when I got him talking so that he would tell me some stuff in my
bugged-up car that I later went on to make copies of, and even sent
one down to the United States © Copyright Office, be behind so very
much incredible and beyond unfathomable junk in my pathetic diseased
butt-licking life, for damn ass crissake???????? Well, SHE CAN, and
so can that rotten puss sniffer McGuire.
MAGNESONIC,
G-7 OPEN COMMAND.
HEAR MY VOICE PRINT ON ALL GENERAL AND SPECIAL ORDERS.
WHOEVER IS PERSECUTING ME WITH MY TELEPHONE, WILL BE TOTALLY WIPED
OUT AND DESTROYED, ALONG WITH ALL WHOM THEY LOVE.
USE BOTH AD AND ZD TECHNOLOGIES. SCAN FOR WHOEVER IS DESTROYING MY
ENTIRE LIFE, AND USING
ICPE-APE AGAINST ME,
AND WIPE
THEM OUT UNDER TOTAL CRUSH DESTRUCT PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM
ORDERS,
ON AN 'I' TO 'D', A-B-TONE PHASING SYSTEM. MY OLD STYLE AT&T
TONES ARE NOW
DATA-TRANSFERED
TO MY VOICE PRINT USING THE LONG-EEEE-VOWEL SOUND, WITH THE 'A' TONE
PRINTED IN COLOR RED,
AND THE 'B' TONE PRINTED IN COLOR BLUE.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
GO
TO CG-18, UNDER G-189, G-13, AND STOP!
Some
mother
******* total puss chewing illegitimate dog child,
is going to be real damn ass sorry, when MAGNESONIC
strikes back HARD SUPER HYPER TIME,
for this major utility assault on me, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!
So
to get my retaliation and my RR-CS (Ronald Reagan Counter Strike), I
will ask how many peeps out here have seen the infomercial on the
GENERAC GENERATOR? Let's further explore this for those who have, and
well, for those who haven't, just be on the lookout or ask your
friends, or Google it or YouTube it, or 'whatever'. They say that
now, EVERY DAMN THING is up there on the YT! It shows the aging power
grid and the hackers sitting on chairs who are hacking into things.
Notice something please. Why
are they all dressed up in major camouflage gear, unless THEY KNOW,
and a hacker would certainly know the truth, that we all are being
watched through ANY AND ALL VIEW SCREENS, any time THEY want to watch
ANY OF US!
I was not going to reveal this secret, until a major assault day,
such as this one. Well, here we are, or as the United States ©
Office knows me quite well for saying on one of my music projects,
“HERE WE GO”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Keep on laying the
real heavy dog**** all over me, and I'll keep right on telling tons
and tons of mother ******* **** that you don't want spewed out all
over the **** licking internet, BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
But
if you really think that this is all I am going to do today for
totally wrecking my squat chewing last two days, THINK
AGAIN,
as they say on HGTV's
wonderful show,
“Beachfront
Bargain-hunt”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
No folks, it is not 38 degrees,
but when they put that on the screen, they do me a favor, after-all,
it ain't mother ******* illegal to day-dream, huh Grace
Isabel Huntington, and MC????????????
WHAAAAAAAAAA!
The
ESS is not some made up fiction, nor is it the fantastic delusions of
a crazy person. Naturally, THEY, the ESS, will keep doing whatever it
takes to make people believe that this is just made up insane
delusions of a Jersey crackpot. They have absolute motive and reason
for carrying out that whittle mission, peeps, right? Tell
me I am wrong somebody, and convince me, and I will STOP
THESE BLOGS.
Put up a comment and say that this is not true, BUTTTTTTTT,
you need to then go on and tell me why. If you convince me, YOU HAVE
THE POWER TO SHUT UP THE BIGGEST MOTOR MONSTER MOUTH ON THE DAMN
INTERNET, THE MOUNTAINPEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm
lyin', I'm dyin'!
The
EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY is as some know by now, quite a
group.
It explains all of the mysteries of everything, from Christ's death
and resurrection, aliens and UFO's and the whole scene there,
psychics and why things work for them sometimes and not others, why
the entire world goes the way it does, why times change, and weird
things happen that we all know just cannot be properly explained in
any rational way, and on and on and on we can go here, and you all
know it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why do they do things like create the
exceptional school that I went to. Why do they do the things like my
teacher Misses Marola, insisting that I perform in that Memorial Day
of 1969 school play, and zillions of similar items that while
happening, seem totally innocent enough, but when looking back in
hindsight, we
all know that SOMETHING IS INDEED GOING ON BEHIND THESE MIGHTY
POWERFUL OZ-CURTAINS, YO!!!!!!!!
Well, there are powerful secret things, and many of them, I have
indeed come to know and understand quite well; such as the “Farm
outside of Haddonfield, New Jersey”
or the (Robin
Hill Apartment Complex)
as it truly came to be in a near future decade. There are items that
do not ever seem to be of any consequence, while others both large
and small, that definitely do. Everything is all part of something
that we can think of as a late night Astral-Plane game show. The
reason that humans enjoy games, is because it is inside of our very
beingness, our damn DNA for crissake. This code is not a human thing
all isolated by itself. The nuclear world eventually creates the
element called CARBON, leading to us human beings. However, it is not
some random deal even though it appears to be in life's incredible
illusion. In the great awesome Purgatory, we exist, we don't live as
in order to live, we need a time dimension and a space dimension. Now
Jesus speaks of drinking wine in lovely mansions in 'Heaven' with His
Father. This is more real than anything here while we are 'awake and
alive'. Here physically, we first need time and space so that our
interactions can all be created in tandem with this commingled
reality. On the Astral-Plane (Purgatory), the interactions are what
is truly real, and the space and time that appears to be a part of
them are pure illusion, although, when interacting, it seems more
real and alive than a thousand of our lives physically here and
awake. In this incredible existence, we have incredible 'lives' as
our truer larger beingness or entity persona. But with all of that,
there is the horror that is inescapable, and that is the endlessness
of it all. Nothing can begin or end, in a timeless existence. No
interaction is ever happening before or ahead of any other one
either. To compensate for endlessness, the coils and the coins,
(Astral-Gods) have figured out that games are the only way to
distract ourselves from the nightmare of endlessness. These same
games there carry down into the nuclear universe that the
'Purgatites' create through a sort of program. We perceive this as
the nuclear mechanics of how things go from singularity, out to the
Plank-Time level, and then big bang out into the nuke worlds where
star-nursery systems form by way of nuke-rules. From there, as
stated, eventually along comes CARBON, and then a while down the line
from there, along comes the clay beings where the Purgatites can
dream out and away, through and into, us. WE are really THEM. Still,
it is about a million to the millionth power times more complex than
this silly whittle blog could ever even hope to accurately begin
discussing here. The ESS are the GODS, or the COINS and the COILS.
Coins and coils are a totally different species than the
Astral-Entity human entity Dream-Downs or 'dreamoffs'. The AAT-VAN
DANIKEN Society believe things slightly similarly to what Morianity
teaches, but they are unable to make the still needed leap into
seeing some of the powerful truths. The
reason that 'they' don't want to entertain my Morianity, is no
different at all from those who oppose and refute the teachings of
the AAT and the UFO-Aliens deal.
The
ESS does not want everyone to know about certain truths. Truths are
what eventually liberate people on the Earth-Planet from this cosmic
or better called, Astral-Game of the Coils and Coins.
Unlike the teachings and mythological writings of ancient Greeks and
others, regarding how these gods and goddesses eat their children and
devour them up, such as the great god named Zeus, who by the way is
the grandfather of Diana Z. Arteemis; I remember my existence in
Purgatory, and I can promise you that they don't eat and swallow up
anything. However, they do try to rob each other of energy and power.
I am pretty sure that I told how I was with Diana and her mom, in
Purgatory, and she was playing a tennis game at her family courts in
Olympia Proper, and in the middle of the game during a break, she
came inside this beyond lovely huge dining room area where Goddess
Leda and I were seated at this beyond gargantuan sized banquet type
of table, and Diana sat down. Diana plays regular tennis games and is
the greatest tennis player, not only in the area proper, but the
entire Province Olympia which if measured in a human perception in
mileage, would be about twelve percent the size of our great Milky
Way Galaxy, here on the mortal world or physical-plane of awake
existence and life as we know it as human beings. As far away as a
dozen provinces totally surrounding us in all three six directions of
north, south, woust, east, west, and nest; she is considered
unbeatable and the absolute greatest tennis player. We on the
Earth-Planet were shown a similar version of the Astral-Plane
(Purgatory) game, several centuries back in Europe, and this is where
out tennis sport came from. But all sports come from the Purgatory,
as a way to distract our attention away from the miseries of
endlessness. But back to my point on Coils and Coins, these entities
do not eat each other, or anyone else for that matter. But they do
steal energy from other similar entities. If they need to replenish
energy after so much interaction depletes them to a level where they
feel this need, they come up to a smaller and unsuspecting entity and
grab it, and then as I believe I told this story before, here is what
I witnessed in Purgatory, when Diana needed to replenish herself for
the second half of the tennis game that she was playing. Leda, her
mom was holding a small coil that was beautiful and colorful. It was
bright and filled with illuminated color beyond anything ever seen on
the Earth-Planet by any of us, thirty times over or more. A loud
buzzing and humming and clicking sound is heard by these Gods and
Goddesses in their true form, the Coins and the Coils. Diana is a
giant lovely COIL. She is 33 feet high, and if she were to be
anywhere around any of us, we and up to a thousand miles around us
would immediately liquidate and evaporate into invisible mist. She is
beyond powerful, and yes, beyond beautiful. But coils and coins take
human forms in Purgatory, so that they can interact with the majority
of Purgatites. About 85% of entities are non-Gods and non-Goddesses.
15% or so, are what loses energy after enough interaction, and then
dream down into a perfectly timed nuke-program of carbon clay beings,
and we become alive and we animate the otherwise lifeless clay
bodies. Now am I claiming that all of the gods and goddesses of the
Purgatory, the EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY? When they eventually
dreamoff of the Astral-Plane (Purgatory), do they travel around and
do all these things? Let me just say this. I am a mortal, and if I
were a COIN/COIL, I would know this for sure. Do I believe this to
the very best of my knowledge, to be a 100% true fact, you may be
asking the Mountainpen? Well, I am not getting married, but let me
answer you all anyway, with this: “I DO”. But what is the really
big secret here? Well, I have been in love with the Lightning Goddess
Diana for all eternity. She and I will always be together, and She
knows this, as do I. But people in her great GODS-FAMILY have dreamed
down here as the ESS, and have done a lot of things to me, because I
dare to love her so much. Now her parents have given me their
blessing, Zeus and Leda. BUTTTTTTTT,
their our cousins, the great KRASSLE BRANCH of the ARTEEMIS clan, who
do not mean me a whole damn ass lot of good.
Do I believe that all of the injustices done to me, and that keep
being done to me; are some organized plot by the KRASSLE'S?
You
bet I do.
Also, I know for a fact that Mister
and Misses Krassle, Neptunejupiter Japtarama Cavelantisocleevious
Krassle and his wife Marina Palamalay Krassle,
hate
my damn guts with an Italian passion.
Are the Atlantic City people, and those from my school, and those all
around me all of my life, nabes, coworkers, people stopping me from
doing every damn ******* thing that I have ever tried to do in this
human damn ass life; all
part of this organized scum against me,
the ESS, the whole damn nine ugly yards and 27 ugly feet, the entire
324 inches???? YOU
CAN TAKE IT TO THE DAMN BANK THAT I BELIEVE ALL OF THIS HORRIBLE
****, my kind folks!
If I were to even try going further right now today on this blog,
into major details that would show patterns of this hell on and
against me from the ESS all of my entire freaking human life, I would
begin a project outline that I'd not be able to finish for months,
and they would find me here typing away, dead from not drinking a
drop of liquid for 75 hours, the human death maximum average, if
memory correctly serves me here lads and
lassies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ENDocrinologists
AND END TRANSMISSION.
ENDocrinologists
AND END TRANSMISSION.
ENDocrinologists
AND END TRANSMISSION.
ENDocrinologists
AND END TRANSMISSION.
ENDocrinologists
AND END TRANSMISSION.
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