BLOG
20 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
4:23
ANTE' MERIDIAN
SATURDAY
MORNING
9
FEBRUARY, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA
©
Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr--------2006-2019, BOM (Blogs
Of Mountainpen)
At
approximately one this morning, I had one
of my extremely WEIRD events happen to me, and this means
“WEIRD FOR ME”. I went into
my goddamn kitchen to make myself a bowl of Campbell's New England
Clam Chowder soup, and all hell broke loose right out of old TV-show
called, “The 3 Stooges”. I believe it was caused by a super
advanced and highly intelligent cockroach. Laugh at me all you want
to, world. I know what I know, and I am not ever am going to sound
quite as arrogant as my kid, and say “THAT I know”, but still,
Lenny Brisco, sir; I FUCKING KNOW I AM NOT
NUTS!!!!!!!!!! Let me tell you all
what happened.
It
began with a spoon that is larger than a soup spoon but smaller than
the normal spoons used to stir stuff around in large cooking pots.
This was my fault and I only have myself to fucking blame, and I am
not saying otherwise. My story here is not how stupid I am, but that
a highly intelligent traveler who was sent back accidentally way back
through time, fucked with me. I know for a fact that in the future of
multiple realms in the fifth dimensional hyperspace, when an overload
in power happens while channeling star power into man made travel
tunnels, the traveler is sent way back hundreds of millions of years
into time and turned into what we all see now
as COCK ROACHES! They did not come out of the seas as crab
cousins, although there are indeed similar insects who have done just
that, following a biological scale in the evolution process. BUT
THIS IS NOT THE CASE, because I have had similar things happen
to me with another creature that gets created as a result of this
overpowering accidental traveler fiasco, and I speak of the super
large black flies, and not the normal flies that come from the tiny
maggots that we all come to fear as the fucking grave grows closer
and closer and we know that our insides will soon turn into these
mother fucking disgusting filthy things!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So
I went to fix some goddamn soup for myself, and suddenly the spoon
falls into the fucking pan, which does happen to me, but only
upon rare unlucky occasions. I used a smaller spoon to pluck it out
of the pan and again placed it carefully to one side of the pan.
BOOM, as I go to close my fridge after taking out my quart of milk to
mix one soup can of milk with the soup, and kaployee, the fucking
spoon falls in again. After taking it out a second time, and using
some profanity that most likely my nabes would have heard quite well
should they have been in the hallway, I placed
a larger spoon into the pan so that it could not happen AGAIN TO ME!
But shit kept right on happening. Things got
spilled, I dropped shit, and many small but super fucking annoying
little things just kept right on fucking happening, 1-2-3-4-5, and on
and on and on! Then after swearing quite vulgarly for about a
quarter of a minute, I observed a very large fucking filthy cock
roach staring at me with its beady fucking eyes, from the wall that
runs right past my oven where my cooking stove sits atop of. I
know this bastard was causing this to all be happening to me, and
MOCKING ME AS WELL on top of just making me nuts as all shit.
But you still haven't heard the entire deal; kind Blogaudians. I said
to it, “I'm going to fucking kill your filthy
ass, you rotten roach”
and just as I said that, it ran right
underneath my stove control knob, and kept fucking with me. It
had a major intelligence to it,
and it played with me for literally two minutes, while
my mother fucking soup started to burn and boil. By sheer
will, and lots of goddamn ass luck; I damn managed to make it finally
drop down onto the floor throw-rug, using two separate items as tools
to try and get it to run out of the knob area, so
that I could crush and squash it as it came running out. But
it absolutely knew what was going on, and
it fucked with me. Even a cat or dog, and believe me as I
had pets as a youngster; DOES NOT
have that much intelligence, despite the brain size difference
between a cat or a dog, and a fucking ass cock
roach!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You
know wonderful people out here; I cannot help but to think from time
to time, HOW GODDAMN ROYALLY I HAVE BEEN SCREWED IN MY LIFE, AND THEN
MOCKED ON TOP OF IT BY HALLS GODDAMN FAWCES! Just thinking about this
today made me see how many knives have been thrown at me, from the
front side as well as the rear side. It made me think of something
funny that I want to quickly share before moving on and discussing my
incredible hyperspace interactions from last night, (DREAMS)! Two men
walk into a store where maps are sold, and as they examine them, one
says to his pal, “Hey Joe, what lies between A-TRAIL and C-TRAIL”?
His pal says back, “I don't know”. His buddy replies to him and
says, “Judas Avenue”! I can fucking
relate here!
I
went to sleep late and had a fairly quiet first half sleep cycle.
Then kabingkabongkaboomka, things heated up
very extremely. I found my spirit-self
inside my doppelganger,
in some localized parallel realm, up at Cifaloglio,
where I used to work here as a security guard back in Jersey from
2005 through 2009, part time. Suddenly my double was speaking
to a man who was John King, Paula's dad.
He looked absolutely nothing at all like he looked here in this
universe of my waking world physical body interaction, in Atlantic
City, at his parking lot where I met him one
day, and he totally insisted that I use
some WATER-HOSE after I was ready to return to the parking lot
and my parked vehicle on it. As many may know, and some may not, this
is a gigantic weird story from the middle late nineteen-nineties that
is all tied into all of my major Atlantic City enemies and lifelong
problems and hellish nightmarish woes straight
out of the fucking gates of Dogtown itself (HELL)!!!! In
this parallel world however, we seemed to be fairly good friends, and
he did not live in Atlantic City, but his daughter Paula did, and was
much younger here, only about thirty years old today, instead of my
age or more than double that. We had a very interesting talk. I
tried to become a TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON,
and take over my doppelganger in this wild experience, but I was
unable to accomplish this. Doing this takes lots and lots of
heavy practice and meditation, and even then, FAWCES
can indeed prevent us from being able to do this with any real long
term benefit or success. Only practicing the FASCITAR on a
daily basis for years, would enable someone to successfully become a
T-3-E, at least in my humble opinion (IMHO). But I managed to retain
a lot of information from being a recessant entity inside of my
self-double in that parallel world. I learned that I had indeed been
correct in my assumptions that there is a parallel world somewhere
fairly localized in the hyperspace, where my younger daughter
Patty-Paula Junior who insists on my calling her PEE, is indeed
attempting to make contact with me, and that lots of my
ENEMY-PROBLEMS here in this waking world with those Atlantic City
nightmarish folks, are a result of this attempted contact gone wrong.
But still, PEE will endlessly continue to try to reach out to me, and
for that, I am eternally grateful. After the fairly long talk between
my double and John King, I found myself in Atlantic City, and just
a few yards from the GREAT
AREA where it all is, you
know, KINGS parking lots, WAWV-FM-RADIO,
the great 'concert-dream 'LOIS
FOCA' interaction' area
outside of the Frailenger's Salt Water Taffy Store, and McGuire's
Hotel and Bar. I did not run into Paula at all, and she was
not there threatening to hurt me if I did not get her that
magical tachyon-radio, from the house of nakedness near
I-95 and Grant Avenue, in Northeast Philly! But,
and yes Mister Microsoft Spellchecker, BUTTERCHEESE too, and
BIG-ASS-BUTT, I ran into a very strange person who
claimed to be Benjamin
Franklin
in that universe. Over there, there was no Benjamin Franklin
back in the eighteenth century, and instead, he seemed to be living
in our modern times up here. We began walking up and down the
boardwalk, and he told me that he knew John and Paula King, and that
he also knew some other people who had a magical blanket. He then
took me to a place not too far from the great area as I call it, and
hidden in a small alley way inside of a cardboard box, was a large
brown burlap blanket. I remember my double looking at him and saying
to him, “It's burlap, it sure can't be very freaking comfortable”.
He laughed and said back to the other me, “No but then it isn't
used for comfort, but for traveling”. He then demonstrated to me
how it worked. He took a Coke bottle out of a round metal trash can
nearby in that same alley way, and placed it inside of this blanket,
rapping it up completely, and then when he unwrapped it, it was like
a magic trick, no more bottle. Then he said to me, “It is big
enough to hold two grown men, wanna' try it”? I said, “Why the
hell not, Mister Franklin”? So then we proceeded to get inside of
this thing, and wrapped ourselves completely up in it. He then said
to me, “Where would you like to go now”? I said, how about back
into time about two and a half centuries to the Revolutionary War
times”? I did not tell him that in my universe, this was the time
period that he would have been living in, and that was because my
double would not have any reason to make such a statement to him. You
see how DREAMS work, and why so much weirdness is buried all
throughout them? They are all part of a fifth dimensional fabric that
is so complex that a million super computers would not be able to
figure it all out in a fucking millennium. We did indeed go back and
we saw Atlantic City before it was built, just the real estate. Then
we traveled up to where it first was built as a health resort. Then
we traveled to 1969. I tried with all my might to take over my
double as a T3E, but I couldn't.
I wanted so badly to know why 1969 was an important year for my
double, as it was for me here as well.
Then we walked around and I saw the most amazing place. The piers
were all as huge as the once fully constructed Steel Pier and they
had huge amusement park rides and many other gigantic things on them,
all three of them, where here we have the Ocean 1, the Central Pier,
and the Steel Pier, or what is left of all of it. I will save other
parts of this wild nocturnal experience for later blogs, and believe
me when I tell you all that major fucking shit went down, and some of
it was along the lines of strange effects that happened as a result
of using this magical-fleece for lack of a better label, and it
caused something similar to what I used to call,
Distance-Elimination. Suddenly, the skyline of New York City appeared
and we realized that we were transported to some place way up into
North Jersey. Before the interaction terminated, numerous strange
things began happening. Mister Franklin began walking very rapidly
and I was unable to catch up to him. He told me that in order to use
the blanket, the same thing needs to be inside of it in order to have
it transport you back again to where you last left. As he got more
and more out of sight, I would shout as loud as I could, or my double
did, “Franklin, Franklin”, and I did this over and over as he got
blocks away from me. I could still hear his voice ever so faintly. He
then began saying numbers to me, and these numbers kept repeating
themselves although they were nearly impossible to hear as got
fainter and fainter with an ever increasing distance between the two
of us. The ten numbers were 2127528464. I was frightened out of my
mind that I would be forever trapped back in 1969, and I could feel
my doppelganger's fear all through me as though someone was about to
recreate the Blitz of England during World War Two, and I was
standing at ground fucking zero. Then as powerful as these two wild
experiences were, and lasting the entire second half of my sleep
cycle, ending at 2 PM on the nose, POOF, it ended abruptly, and I
simply awoke. I made notes and wrote them down for when I would do my
next blog. I was not planning to do a blog, but that assault on me by
that traveling scumbag insect made me very mother fucking angry, me
peeps, yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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SHERIFF
KENNETH J. MASCARA SIR; I AM UNDER
A MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING DEATH SIEGE FROM THE CUNT CHEWING
WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES ON THIS
GODDAMN LATE MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING AND EARLY CUNT EATING AFTERNOON;
THIS GODDAMN MOTHER SUCKING SEVENTH FEBRUARY
AFTERNOON, IN THE YEAR OF 2019, SIR, YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
began shortly past eleven this mother fucking morning with hallway
noise, lots of ILLEGAL-GUESTS slamming doors,
and then at a quarter past noon, my Comcast
Cable modem went out for absolutely no reason whatsoever, and
then three minutes after this, a fire alarm is sounding. Also during
the door slamming period, some jerk off called my cellphone and this
is the second time now, some jerk off put a
weird text into the screen that is all unreadable and totally fucked
the shit ass Christ up!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS A DYING
UTTERANCE AND A DYING DECLARATION, SHERIFF
SIR. IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME AND I AM
FOUND DEAD TODAY IN THIS CUNT EATING APARTMENT HERE AT THE PARK
TERRACE BUILDING, AT 601 AVENUE B HERE IN DIRT BAG FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA-ESMWG, I WAS MURDERED
BY THE WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES! There is no way after a time of
relative quiet for me, that suddenly
BOOM-POW-ZAP-ADAM BATMAN WEST,
shit all just strikes me like this, faster than a mother
fucking bolt of cock sucking lightning, me BRAHHHHHHH!!!!
The
fire alarm was deactivated by the Fire Department peeps at
approximately ten minutes shy of one this disasternoon. It is time to
strike hard now and discuss CONTACT some more, since these cunt
chewing fucking total bastards won't give me a moment of peace for
the rest of my goddamn ass life, Agent
FALCON and agent
CONDOR, and
ALPHA-DEEP-SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
sure wish you'd goddamn help out an old diseased dying and totally
fucking pathetic old man, Sheriff Mascara sir!!!!!!!!!!!!
BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT, and yes, BUTTERCHEESE too Spellchecker, I won't
expect any fucking nice whittle miracles in here or in heredahelda
either, yo BRO!!!!!!!!!
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Thank you CRAZY-COMCAST. Thank you
CRAZY-COMCAST. Thank you CRAZY-COMCAST. Thank you CRAZY-COMCAST.
Thank you CRAZY-COMCAST. Thank you CRAZY-COMCAST. Thank you
CRAZY-COMCAST. Thank you CRAZY-COMCAST. Thank you CRAZY-COMCAST.
Thank you CRAZY-COMCAST. Thank you CRAZY-COMCAST. Thank you
CRAZY-COMCAST.
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When
you open your eyes underwater, do you ever worry that you'll drown?
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I did drown in 1995, in South Atlantic City. Remember, I
am the one in 1984, from Highland Avenue. Oh boy, Patty and
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My
following blog will
tell some more about major hidden (occult) things, Mizz
Patricia Hollister,
and others in the FEE-FREE
system of the 06-07
times, yo!!!! THE MILITUFORCE JUST CRASHED MY CUM PUKE HER, SHERIFF
SIR, AT 1:03 P.M., KIND SIR. HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TOSTAND IDLY BY
AND PERMIT THIS ILLEGAL ELDER ABUSE ON ONE OF YOUR CITIZENS HERE IN
YOUR COUNTY, OH GREAT WONDERFUL AWESOME SIR?????????? Yes folks, we
WILL BE DISCUSSING THE GREAT
AND POWERFUL MAGICAL LADY ON THIS BLOG, AKA PATRICIA
HOLLISTER
OF GLOUCESTER CITY,
AND MANY
OTHER CITIES
AS WELL,
& AS WELCOME.Bienvenido.Bienvenue.
Yes, good old Microsoft Spellchecker. SAY IT MIKE MCNULTY, GO AHEAD
AND FUCKING CUNT EATING SAY IT, YO! AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
and it ain't even fucking 1971 any longer, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW
THAT, ALL JOANNA'S.
NOT
ENDocrinologists, AND END TRANSMISSION.
BUTTERCHEESE
AND BUTT, BIG ASS TYPE, WE
WILL NOW CONTINUE ONWARD;
OH GREAT AND WONDERFUL, AND TOTALLY ROTTEN PAULA KING, QUEEN
OF ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY!!!!
CLICK
BELOW TO LINK INTO ORIGINAL BLOGS.
I
AM A 'HANGING IN THERE' HUNTINGTON, P.K.
I
AM A 'HANGING IN THERE' HUNTINGTON, P.H.
NO
WILDFIRES PERMITTED, SIR UNCLE SNOOTS HEINZ GOTTWALD OF BABYLON, NEW
YORK!
On
the Astral Plane of existence,
there is a large city in the capitol province of Olympia, and it is
called, when translated into Earth Planet English Language,
HYDROGLACIA. All of the stars
that we perceive in the skies in our waking reality, are indeed
astral cities back in the Purgatory. Do I truly
believe that I was semi-awake when I was 'contacted' by this
incredible star, not once, but TWICE? YES.
That is how CONTACT is usually made, when we are SEMI-AWAKE, or
SEMI-ASLEEP, depending on if you wish to say it one way or the
other way. When contact is made between ASTRAL ENTITIES and human
beings here, while dreaming off of the Purgatory; as long as it never
goes beyond the acceptable and very heavily Milituforce
governed semi-awake contact, or as Morianity calls it, 'acceptable
contact' Go ahead and try to stop me from getting some major
revenge for this goddamn assault on me, PROJECT
AIR FORCE BLUEBOOK
CLUB!!!! “If you ever open up your
mouth about this, we won't give you a
moment's peace for the rest of your
lives”.
If you don't believe me, contact the mother fucking television
station in NYC, WPIX, and verify it, IF YOU
STILL CAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
only problem left in all of my overturning of stones project is this
one. I am fully willing to forget all of the
things that happened to me and never talk about it, if the
Milituforce would allow me a normal
life, but THEY WILL NOT. Maybe it
is the point of no return syndrome,
where once you know too much, you are a threat to their new world
fucking Orwellian Order. Who can even really fucking know, me peeps?
So
let us now discuss Patty-H, as well as
Privecode, Hydroglacia,
and other such related fucking topics; me folks of the Shamrocks, and
other kind Blogaudians!!!!
We
have talked about my purchase of a
machine called the PRIVECODE,
invented by a company called the International
Mobile Machines, Incorporated, which
later on became the Inter-digital
Corporation. This machine was delivered to me some time in
early or middle December of 1982, if I am at all correct; right
around the very same time that I had met three beyond weird human
beings, at a place called Warwick
Auto
Sales, in Magnolia, New
Jersey, owned by a private airplane owner by
the name of Mister Everett Simpson. In that place, I also came
to meet the other two nut jobs, Mister Herby
Letts, and Mister George Belton.
All things fit together in huge major ways, such as Herby and his
lasers to the moon, and his perpetual motion machine, and many other
such nightmares. First off, Patty H is so mixed up in all of this
that I don't dare get fully specific because my already horrible and
screwed up life would alter on a damn ass dime if I do, and I
KNOW IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will 'naut' cross over the
absolute RED
LINES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUTTERCHEESE-BIG
ASS BUTT folks, I can say quite a bit more
about the 'PRIVECODE',
knowing of course there as well, just where the ABSOLUTE RED
LINE CROSSING MARKS
AND BRIDGES TRULY ARE, and RESPECTING
THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!
However people, on this blog, I just may cross over a few mother
fucking RED
LINES,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was all during the old analogue days,
BEFORE
THE DIGITAL REVOLUTION
came, and I could not afford to make the video stores richer by
renting movies, as money
was always tight for me.
So in the afternoons I would enjoy Sesame Street, and then there were
those other two shows, “The
Electric Company”,
and “3-2-1
Contact”.
This is a very major
thing here. The magic numbers of 1-2-3
in reverse, and ELECTRIC.
Well, I don't know about “Electric
Avenue or getting higher”,
BUT I HAD BEEN CONTACTED,
MIZZ
AT&T BLAKE!!!!
I think it is very appropriate here to ponder this mystery. Why
is there no such device today
when it would be so needed to screen
out ROBO calls,
and for that matter, this automatically leads us to an even
huger query? Why then
back in those days WAS
THIS MACHINE REALLY INVENTED BY THE MYSTERIOUS IMM CORPORATION?????
What really was going on? First of all, I was one of the very few
people who purchased it, or so I was told within a year or so. And
then we come to one more incredibly interesting deal because folks,
you see, when people experience similar or exact life experiences and
stimulus, the average person will develop an average attitude towards
that, not that any two persons are alike, mind you but still
BUTTERCHEESE, and Spellchecker; most
of us within the psychological norms, will indeed react similarly to
'same-stimuli'. Are
people intentionally
given same
stimuli
by HALLS
FAWCES;
is the next appropriate following query to examine here; me wonderful
freaking blogaudians!!!!!!!!! On more than one occasion, I
have come to meet doubles of people, who are NOT REALLY TWINS.
For starters there was Desire',
and Mizz Knowles, and
then there was Phyllis
at RPL, and Donna Summer.
Now I will tell you a
major private story about me wonderful 'baby-mama', Patty.
She met a guy where she was working who she fell head over heels in
love with, lucky prick. He did not feel anything towards her, and
this made her crazy as all get out stink shit, cubed and Cuban. Then
one day, she met another dude not all that far away from where she
had met the first guy. He was a precise physical double of this
original guy. He liked Patty, and they
eventually fell in love, and more.
Still, there is a ton of shit behind this story, and we must remember
not to go too damn ass far across RED
LINES,
but me ol' pernt here still is goddamn CONTACT.
Some force did the very same shit to me, as they did to P.H., at
least in my humble opinion (IMHO).
Bringing doubles into our lives and testing for a reaction. This all
fits into a powerful Astral Plane secret that I have fucking dared
quite cunt eating boldly to share openly with the residents of the
Earth-Planet now, for thirteen years of blogging texts. That is, that
the
gods of the Purgatory, that the Air force believes to be aliens from
distant points in the expansion, are bored to tears from the
endlessly existing reality that all existers face, and thus in order
to fucking distract away from this nightmare state, they have
invented the concept of PLAYING GAMES, and this is where the entire
world Olympics all comes from, the great Olympian GODS, or the
MILITUFORCE ALIENS of UFOLOGY!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THE
1983 CONTACT M2F PUNISHMENT:
I
picked my mom up at the PATCO train station in Lindenwold, New
Jersey, and drove us back to our Atco home and ate dinner. After she
went off to bed around a quarter past ten at night, I began flicking
through channels and started to watch some stupid movie on the
television. There was no cable television service in Atco yet in
1983, so entertainment was limited to only a few choices. I got a bag
of M&M's candy and a soda and put them onto my card table in
front of me, and began to watch this dorky ass show about some kids
who did a song and were discussing how to make a few improvements to
the recording, and after I was eating some candy and got into the
show, approximately fifteen minutes later on, around 10:30 P.M., I
suddenly was unable to clear my throat. To quote the great Resorts
International Hotel and Casino of Atlantic City, New Jersey, “That
is where it all began”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUTTERCHEESE and BIG
ASS BUTT FOLKS, this is only THE BEGINNING, and the after shocks that
started practically instantly, are what is at issue, and is all part
of this CONTACT, but I need to say one quick thing here and now on
this blog. I used to watch in the afternoon, two shows on the Public
Broadcasting Station (PBS) that were on back to back. I
knew that this magical M2F
(Milituforce) was behind making me
want to watch those two shows that followed the Sesame Street show on
PBS. As I type this message here in
2019, I was just goddamn fucking hacked big time, SHERIFF
MASCARA SIR, AGAIN; and
my blog shifted up for absolutely no mother fucking reason to the
opening part of this paragraph and screwed up while I was typing this
line and I had to go back and repair it. First the freeze up and now
this 'move-the-line-hack', sir. But back on pernt, Mister
Bunkerqueens and otherworldly and worldly Blogaudians; I decided to
stop watching those shows. You might think on the fucking cunt eating
face of it, this was a very benign thing for me to do, only it was
not. Not when we consider the full impact of many following things.
For one thing, right afterwards, this is when the fourth of June
came, and BOOM, my mysterious medical condition that followed along,
AS PER THE PRIOR AUTUMN'S PROPHECY, YO YO YO YO YO YO, while I
resided at the world famous now perhaps, 1802 non Beekman ROBIN HILL
APARTMENTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me now tell you what the last hack did
to me, SHERIFF MASCARA SIR. My death and my blood is on your hands,
oh wonderful Sheriff KJM, sir!!!! Somehow my blog DUPLICATED ITSELF,
as in TWINS, and my discussing a fantastic secret of PATTY HOLLISTER
THE GREAT ALL-KNOWER!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now tell me what the mother fucking
shit I am imagining, kind sir! Please, just ga'hed and tell me
THAT!!!!!!!!!!!! I decided to close one of the two TWIN-BLOGS Sheriff
and they both closed. Now when I went to reopen and pushed the open
prompt after reentering the title on the file of the Open-Office
Program on my PC system, it opened back up as
one singular blog. NOW, did Patty do
this to me sir, or did the MILITUFORCE,
or did HALLS GAME PLAYING ASTRAL PLANE GODS
FAWCES do this to me; oh wonderful and awesome kind
SIR?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
How can I ever mother fucking cunt swallowing know such things,
Sheriff Mascara, sir?????????????
'1-2-3'
'1-2-3'
'1-2-3'
'1-2-3'
'1-2-3'
'1-2-3'
'1-2-3'
'1-2-3'
'1-2-3'
1-2-3,
or 3-2-1-----”CONTACT, IT'S THE REASON”!!!!!
WHAT
THE FUCKING SHIT IS REALLY GOING ON? Well, I do not wonder any
longer, not after all of my life, and then on top of this, that
wonderful new television show on the great
HISTORY-CHANNEL called, Project
Bluebook!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I also remember that wonderful soon to follow STAR
TREK-THE NEXT GENERATION (TNG) show, created by
futurist Mister Gene Roddenberry, who
seemed to know about my choking condition,
way back on the original sixties show, with the inventor of warp
drive, Mister Zephran Cochran, when the landing party landed on that
asteroid where one of the COILS had mated with
Mister Cochran. There is absolutely no way that Mister
Roddenberry could have known so much unless he REALLY
DID
KNOW ABOUT
ALL OF THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
had a recording system connected up to all of my telephone stuff, and
many times when CONTACT
was made with me, the little girl on the other end sounded
very much like
Sarjenka,
and they all knew it
too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
had a recording system connected up to all of my telephone stuff, and
many times when CONTACT
was made with me, the little girl on the other end sounded
very much like
Sarjenka,
and they all knew it
too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
had a recording system connected up to all of my telephone stuff, and
many times when CONTACT
was made with me, the little girl on the other end sounded
very much like
Sarjenka,
and they all knew it
too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
had a recording system connected up to all of my telephone stuff, and
many times when CONTACT
was made with me, the little girl on the other end sounded
very much like
Sarjenka,
and they all knew it
too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
lads and lassies, between Count Von-Lennon
Marcucci and Mister Jehovah Witness
Woodside, someone or something, CAPTAIN KIRK sure seemed to
have some powerful and forbidden knowledge pertaining to the
offspring of one Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr. I don't mean
Woods or Woodside TEST PRESSING, or the great old record label
ATLANTIC KRASSLE RECORDS. Still, KRASSLE means ATLANTIC on the
Purgatory-Plane, and indeed, that really and truly and verily is HER
CITY on the human world, ACNJUSAESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, is
PAULA KING really and truly and verily the Almighty in human flesh
today in the year of mother fucking 2019?????????????????? Again
folks, who can ever really know shit like this for sure? You CANNOT
prove to me or anyone else, scientifically, that SHE IS, or that SHE
IS NOT, and you all know it!!!!!!!!!!!! What
began for me as sort of a game, has turned into a wild horrendous
unfathomable hell. Now what if we should
all follow the advice of a great Astroblake spellchecker
astrophysicist or cosmologist by the name of Doctor Carol Sagan, and
UP THAT BY ONE DIMENSION?
Get it? I fully believe that in order to distract away from the
unfathomable hellishness of realization of endlessness, the gods or
Purgatites of highest energy values, have learned how to use GAMES to
distract themselves away from the nightmare. I also believe that
these GAMES went TOO DAMN FAR, and now we have HUMANITY. Still, we
all must dream off of the Purgatory when running out of energy, and
thus, begin dreaming somewhere and into something, hence our cosmos
and the great hyperspace expansion. The story of the serpent, Eden,
and original sin is a perfect illustration that man can relate to,
but if man ever wishes to evolve to what is truly happening here,
this is why I have created mother fucking MORIANITY!!!!
This
is ELDER ABSUE,
KIND SHERIFF, SIR!!!! I am sixty-four
years and fifty-nine
days old, and that
should make me an elderly senior citizen that protects me from
these vicious mother fucking enemies, who relentlessly assault me
and victimize me, and destroy my property, continuously and
endlessly; as well as ruthlessly and without conscience, shame, or
fucking cock sucking humanity whatsoever, me
BRAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
What
a horrible fucking world we live in, YO!
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
BUTTERFIELDS
PHARMACY
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, on Kings Highway,
PHONE
NUMBER (772) 489-3700
Across
from the Winn Dixie Plaza Mall
There
will be some real sorry mother fuckers out there for this cunt
eating vicious assault on me today; OH GODDAMN WORLD, IPYT!!!!
THIS
DOGTOWNITE, AND
THIS
HUMAN-HYBRID, IS NOT SIGNING OFF.
Blood
type---A neg. Eye color---green-hazel
On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
AND
PAULA DOESN'T LIKE IT AT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
AND
PAULA DOESN'T LIKE IT AT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
AND
PAULA DOESN'T LIKE IT AT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
AND
PAULA DOESN'T LIKE IT AT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
AND
PAULA DOESN'T LIKE IT AT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
On
Blogger since January 2006
The
BOM © 2006-2019
AND
PAULA DOESN'T LIKE IT AT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!
IN
FACT, HER FRIEND THE DEATH
ANGEL, IS IN HERE, PASSING
BY MY LEFT AND MY RIGHT SIDE ALLTHE GODDAMN FUCKING TIME, BUT NEVER
EVER BOTH SIDES AT ONCE. I FIND THIS QUITE INTELESTING, OLD SCHOOL
CHUM BOB MCDOWELL SIR!!!!! My dirt bag upstairs
nabe is always making sounds now, and is very mother fucking
annoying, kind Sheriff KJM
sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What fucking right
does this bitch have to annoy me all of
the mother fucking time????
jAbout
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Not
boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly
say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived
here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with
awareness. Fun is replaced with 'intense'.
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You
forgot your mom's birthday! What can you make out of super glue and
olive pits? To start with, I could make a VERY
ANGRY
MOTHER. Then, at the risk
of sounding negative, the only thing one may be truly sure of, is
that you cannot be sure of anything. Sorry for my rotten bad
attitude, gorgeous Desire' Twinbay!
DON'T
COUNT ME OUT YET; MEN IN BLACK!
DON'T
COUNT ME OUT YET; MEN IN BLACK!
DON'T
COUNT ME OUT YET; MEN IN BLACK!
DON'T
COUNT ME OUT YET; MEN IN BLACK!
DON'T
COUNT ME OUT YET; MEN IN BLACK!
DON'T
COUNT ME OUT YET; MEN IN BLACK!
DON'T
COUNT ME OUT YET; MEN IN BLACK!
DON'T
COUNT ME OUT YET; MEN IN BLACK!
I
could sure use the Russian's help after this horrendous three year
major fucking persecution. I'm with you cuzz, just more honest about
it, pal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
ETERNAL DOGTOWNITE:
©
2006-2019, results below as of 01-19-19.
On
Blogger since January 2006, Profile views – 3,354
http://theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/
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http://theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/
http://theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/
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http://theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/
http://theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/
http://theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com/
Donald
and Paula, PERRRR-fect together, huh Mister Kean sir? Nobody knows my
story in all five dimensions, and for that matter, nobody
cares!!!!!!
First I can just go and say, “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”, huh
Chester-Frank?
Sarah
Krassle
Owns
And
Rules This
Planet
Sarah
Krassle
Owns
And
Rules This
Planet
Sarah
Krassle
Owns
And
Rules This
Planet
Sarah
Krassle
Owns
And
Rules This
Planet
Sarah
Krassle
Owns
And
Rules This
Planet
The
mouse and my computer as well, is also under a major mother *******
STACEY LATTISAW JACK HACK ATTACK, without any tapes turned or makes
moved, whatever all that was about, lovely Stace!
|
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Global Audience By Shade Ratio:
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
Computer,
hear my MVP (Mind-Voice-Print). You will be totally absolutely
crushing, obliterating, annihilating, and devastating, wrecking,
ruining, and utterly wiping out, all of my enemies that are viciously
persecuting me on this seventh day in February
of the year of 2019, on a crush-destruct order, under
GENERAL-ORDER-189, max.-power. Open-Command, General Order #7. Use
G-901, G-1133, G-14, G-719, G-13, CG5555-QP4 sub-code, under G-917,
CG-2, under CG-18, and HOLD.
Your
old AT&T landline telephone old style 1983 built tone-commands
have been data-transferred into the two highlighted
long-EEEEE vowel sounds. The high-tone
is colored RED. The
low-tone is colored BLUE.
100%
power against whoever broke my telephone!!!!!!!!!!
Computer
(Magnesonic) under my command and precisely matching voice print, I
have an image-object (I-O) now placed on your transpower-block (T-B)
after I have crush-destructed this. Once empowered, all actual beings
matching this I-O on your T-B will be exactly crushed and singed and
destroyed as the original I-O. To accomplish the scan, use your ZD
technology built into your system. To accomplish this sympathetic
reality duplication, use your AD technology, (ZD-Zero-Dimensional),
(AD-Atomic Duplicational).
Computer,
MAGNESONIC, on an 'I' to 'D', A/B—TONE,
PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, you will now be
transmitted the two empowerization-transmit tones, or ETT'S.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
GO
TO G-189, under G-1133, CG-18, AND S---T---O---P
Yes
baby-mama Patty and her tennis pal. WOW-THAT!!!!!!!!!!
BUTTERCHEESE and BIG ASS BUTT folks, the real deal here is TWINALITY
and then someone not liking me saying this one tiny mother fucking
whittle wee bit on this whittle wee bwog, me kind fwolks of the
fwucking shamwocks, yo yo yo yo yo yo BROadcasters,
BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Some mother fucker really hacked me the
second that I did that, huh magic lamps and lanterns and carriages of
New York's, White Horse Pike's and other raping head shrinker
patients of fantastic law shows that went onto even fucking surpass
the mighty PERRY MASON, YO YO YO YO YO ME BRAHHHHHHH! There is a
whole fucking lot to this, huh, Donna Lalassas Patterson and Phyllis
Mashell Lover-boy?????????????????? TEE-HEE-HEE-WHAAAAHA-AHA-AHA-AHA,
MIKE!
END
TWANSMISSIOM, YO YO YO YO!!!!
I'M
JUST LAYING HEREdahelda AND HERE!
FORGET
STAIRS AND CATS AND CHASES!
BLOG
18 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
Shade
ratio displays blog hits, based on international
popularity.
SUNDAY,
FEBRUARY 3, 2019
3:14
ANTE' MERIDIAN
BLOG
18 OF TWENTY NINETEEN
PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
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When
you open your eyes underwater, do you ever worry that you'll drown?
Well,
I did drown in 1995, in South Atlantic City. Remember, I
am the one in 1984, from Highland Avenue. Oh boy, Patty and
friends!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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My
following blog will
tell some more about major hidden (occult) things, Mizz
Patricia Hollister,
and others in the FEE-FREE
system of the 06-07
times, yo!!!!
NOT
ENDocrinologists, AND END TRANSMISSION.
BUTTERCHEESE
AND BUTT, BIG ASS TYPE, WE
WILL NOW CONTINUE ONWARD;
OH GREAT AND WONDERFUL, AND TOTALLY ROTTEN PAULA KING, QUEEN
OF ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY!!!!
CLICK
BELOW TO LINK INTO ORIGINAL BLOGS.
I
AM A 'HANGING IN THERE' HUNTINGTON, P.K.
At
twelve minutes past eight of the clock on the evening of Friday,
February 1, 2019, which was a SUPER BOTBAR DAY, translated to
Non-Morianity verbiage, a rotten horrendous mother fucking day to put
it quite politely; and this is when a crash level chopper went over
my building. Now whether it was a Sheriff chopper looking out for me,
or an enemy WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE BIRD, THAT, I do not know!!!!!!!!!!! As
Mister McNulty would put it back in 1971,
AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!!!
Yes,
Friday the first was a horrible mother fucking day to say the very
least, but I managed to survive and muddle through the goddamn thing,
for approximately the ten thousandth time or so since my BOTBAR
STRINGS all started, back on the now perhaps somewhat world famous
date of 08-15-1986, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!
Now
for my retaliatory counterstrike for that super
horrific BOTBAR DAY, this blog number 18 of 2019, follows: You
all heard me discuss the great galactic pulsar
star, and me giving it the name of Hydroglacia. This is
because on the Astral Plane of existence,
there is a large city in the capitol province of Olympia, and it is
called, when translated into Earth Planet English Language,
HYDROGLACIA. All of the stars
that we perceive in the skies in our waking reality, are indeed
astral cities back in the Purgatory. Do I truly
believe that I was semi-awake when I was 'contacted' by this
incredible star, not once, but TWICE? YES.
That is how CONTACT is usually made, when we are SEMI-AWAKE, or
SEMI-ASLEEP, depending on if you wish to say it one way or the
other way. When contact is made between ASTRAL ENTITIES and human
beings here, while dreaming off of the Purgatory; as long as it never
goes beyond the acceptable and very heavily Milituforce
governed semi-awake contact, or as Morianity calls it, 'acceptable
contact'; no persecution or harassment
is received as a result, by the contactee, from the Milituforce
system. However, in my case, a much more direct contact had
happened in many numerous times in my past, and thus, whenever
I have any major interactions or contact, I GET HARASSED, or
you can use the expression given in 1988, on a New york City
television station, with a very wonderful and truthful documentary
that they had on one day, where two very
secret agents were revealing that indeed, this
is something that DOES HAPPEN, when it is 'UNACCEPTABLE CONTACT',
and I speak of Agent Condor and
Agent Falcon. Their exact words,
if memory serves me at all well, after more than thirty years since I
saw the show, directed at some folks who had taken pictures of some
UFO craft crash site, and after their camera
was confiscated by the milituforce, “If
you ever open up your mouth about this, we won't give you a
moment's peace for the rest of your
lives”.
If you don't believe me, contact the mother fucking television
station in NYC, WPIX, and verify it, IF YOU
STILL CAN!!!!!!!!!
Now
we have talked about my purchase of a
machine called the PRIVECODE,
invented by a company called the International
Mobile Machines, Incorporated, which later on became the
Inter-digital Corporation. I saw their magazine ad in a
waiting room at a dental office in Philadelphia, and when I got back
to my apartment at 1802 Robin Hill, I ordered it from them, and it
arrived some time in early or middle December, if I am at all
correct; right around the very same time that I had met three beyond
weird human beings, at a place called Warwick
Auto Sales, in Magnolia, New Jersey, owned by a private
airplane owner by the name of Mister Everett Simpson. In that
place, I also came to meet the other two nut jobs, Mister Herby
Letts, and Mister George Belton.
All things fit together in huge major ways that we do not need be
concerned about for right now, kind folks. But
I promise not just the great queen of Buttercheese,
oh great Mister Microsoft Spellchecker, but all of my
wonderful and awesome blogaudians, that I absolutely will get into a
fully elaborated and elucidated explanation to all of the things that
perfectly fit together, as the blogs keep coming. You are all totally
clueless right now just how really and truly beyond fucking powerful
all of this shit honestly is, and you can laugh at me and scoff all
you want to, because before I leave this goddamn fucking world folks,
IPY that I will make believers out of most of you, whether you wish
to believe all of this or naut, Mizz
1983 AT&T Astroblake!!!!!!!!!!!!!
First off, Patty H is so mixed up in all of this that I don't dare
get fully specific because my already horrible and screwed up life
would alter on a damn ass dime if I do, and I
KNOW IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don't cross over the
absolute RED
LINES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUTTERCHEESE-BIG ASS
BUTT folks, I can say quite a bit more about
the 'PRIVECODE', knowing of course there as well, just where
the ABSOLUTE RED
LINE CROSSING MARKS
AND BRIDGES TRULY ARE, and RESPECTING THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Let me then continue marching us onward, with all of that fully and
totally in fucking mind, kind peeps!!!!!!!!!
I
told how one night, shortly before my mystery illness came upon me
right out of nowhere, on the fourth night of June in the year of
1983, that I had experienced a wild enlightenment that I would have
to go through a vast deep time period and then re-experience my life
again, without the ability to alter any of the larger items in it,
despite my knowing where all the landmines were in advance. This hit
my consciousness like a ton of bricks, and I remember clearly as all
of the shit of the entire world striking me at once right in the
kisser. I was on the stair landing half way between the door to the
home in Atco where I was renting at that time, and the basement or
lower level of the split level designed home, owned by Mister Gerald
Pliner, an individual real estate investor. After this happened in
about a minute's time, I walked totally dazed, down into the lower
basement level and turned left in my music room where I also kept a
lot of other devices that were all hooked into the AT&T telephone
line system. The actual Privecode machine and the desk top telephone
were on the upper level on an end table, where telephone books, as
well as personal phone books, and a few other small items were kept.
I remember this night in disjointed fragmentation. I remember
grabbing a cassette tape that was just sitting on top of my turntable
record player that I did not remember placing there, and inserted it
into one of three of my cassette tape decks that were all hooked into
one large hi-fi stereo home sound system. The tape was a song from my
music track done three years earlier while at 1802 Robin Hill
Apartments, only it had me singing a tune on it, that I have no
memory, or very little memory of ever doing. I mixed in another
source also, twice during the making of this music, and that was from
the old Donna Gaines LP record that was given to me along with a
couple hundred LP records from a file called the “Overage File”,
at the recording studio where I had been employed back in 1980. But
there are two more major incidents here. First, after listening to
this newly made mix-down tape, I turned it over to the
cassette-B-side, and it was blank for about a minute, and then I was
suddenly talking to someone who I have no memory at all ever talking
to. I know the all mighty United States Copyright Office has this
tape since I later sent the entire thing as part of one of my three
music projects that I did and copyrighted. I had the original masters
of course, that is until the great KING PLOT to rid me of all of my
stuff when I ran away for my life back in middle December of 2009,
from that nightmare house of hellish horrors in Hanging in there
Hammonton, New Jersey, owned by FBI AGENT, Mister Steve
Caruso!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Half of me wants to go,
“WHAAAA-HA AHA-AHA-AHA, while the other fucking half of me wants to
puke and shit out diareah at the same damn time!
But
getting back to the night where I had the
eternity-revelation-enlightenment, followed by the discovery of some
weird tape that I had no memory of making; I slowly walked back
upstairs, where three bedrooms and one and a half bathrooms were
located to the right down a hallway, and a kitchen was on top of the
stairway that led to the upper level and the living room was back
behind the area adjacent to the stairway bannister, and the dining
area was sort of just a small in-between area connecting the kitchen
to the living room; and as I got upstairs where the end table was
located across the hallway from where the stairs ended, I went over
to the Privecode machine and turned it on for a couple of seconds. I
had turned it off since about the third week in May when I was scared
out of my wits after I was getting calls from unknown callers when
the AT&T telephone line system had been taken off-line and a trap
was being placed on the line to try and see just who my mysterious
caller was, and where they were calling from. They had the ability to
call me when I had NO PHONE SERVICE, reminding me now in these future
times, of a great fictional television show called 'Ghost Whisperer',
when the son of Delia, 'Ned', was telling some high school girl that
got some e-mail from a sender without any IP-address, that 'no one
from this world could do that'. Yeah, I hear that! But there I was,
after about sixteen days or so with my system turned off, and I
switched it back on for about thirty seconds or so. Then I reached
over to switch it back off and all of a sudden, a bright white ball
came right out of the front middle part of the machine and went
directly into my neck, at my Adams-Apple. I never gave it any more
thought at the time, but a few nights later I went to bed perfectly
fine and awoke the next morning almost dead from something that now
seems to resemble carbon monoxide poisoning. I recovered from that
within about three or four hours and was totally fine, but the day
following that, I picked my mom up at the PATCO train station in
Lindenwold, New Jersey, and drove us back to our Atco home and ate
dinner. After she went off to bed around a quarter past ten at night,
I began flicking through channels and started to watch some stupid
movie on the television. There was no cable television service in
Atco yet in 1983, so entertainment was limited to only a few choices.
I got a bag of M&M's candy and a soda and put them onto my card
table in front of me, and began to watch this dorky ass show about
some kids who did a song and were discussing how to make a few
improvements to the recording, and after I was eating some candy and
got into the show, approximately fifteen minutes later on, around
10:30 P.M., I suddenly was unable to clear my throat. To quote the
great Resorts International Hotel and Casino of Atlantic City, New
Jersey, “That is where it all began”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BUTTERCHEESE and BIG ASS BUTT FOLKS, this is only THE BEGINNING, and
the after shocks that started practically instantly, are what is at
issue, and is all part of this CONTACT, but I need to say one quick
thing here and now on this blog. I used to watch in the afternoon,
two shows on the Public Broadcasting Station (PBS) that were on back
to back, and as stated, there really wasn't a whole lot of choices,
and I could not afford the thousand dollar video cassette machines of
those days before prices had dropped, and there were no DVD or
Blue-ray systems on the market yet, as this was the old analogue
days, BEFORE THE DIGITAL REVOLUTION
came, nor could I afford to make the video stores richer by renting
movies, as money was always tight for me. So in the afternoons I
would enjoy Sesame Street, and then there were those other two shows,
“The Electric Company”, and “3-2-1
Contact”. This is a very major thing here. The magic numbers
of 1-2-3 in reverse, and ELECTRIC. Well, I don't know about “Electric
Avenue or getting higher”, BUT
I HAD BEEN CONTACTED, MIZZ AT&T BLAKE!!!!!!!!! That much I do
know, and whether someone was trying to drive me crazy or NAUT, Mizz
B, this all happened, as did the wild song too. Now here is just one
more puzzle on top of a few nonillion other ones for all of us to be
truly bedazzled over, kind peeps. In our new age of harassing
ROBO-CALLS, why is there NO
PRIVECODE TYPE OF MACHINE that would be wonderful in
screening out these annoying assholes? I saw on the news a month or
so ago, that the average person is receiving approximately 15-25
of these annoying calls weekly. I of course have the luxury of the
Huntington Curse and get twice that many, about 30-50
of these per week. Still, Privecode
would insist on a caller dialing a further private extension number,
and if it was not dialed, your telephone would never ring.
Actually, the phone bell could be shut off completely, and the
machine itself had a bell inside of it, also with an adjustable
amount of loudness, low, middle, and high loudness. '1-2-3'
would automatically work provided a user had an answering machine
plugged on-line with the system. Today it might be a good idea
to have a five or six digit code, instead of just three, with so many
hackers and assholes; but here is my question, and I think it is very
appropriate here to ponder this mystery. Why is
there no such device today when it would be so needed to screen out
ROBO calls, and for that matter, this automatically leads us
to an even huger query? Why then back in those days WAS
THIS MACHINE REALLY INVENTED BY THE MYSTERIOUS IMM
CORPORATION??????????? What really was going on? First of all,
I was one of the very few people who purchased it, or so I was told
within a year or so. Also, why did it just come and go, vanishing out
of the blue just as quickly as it came to be, like an early morning
fucking mist evaporating with the morning's flow of
time?????????????????? I mean really, WHAT THE
FUCKING SHIT IS REALLY GOING ON? Well, I do not wonder any
longer, not after all of my life, and then on top of this, that
wonderful new television show on the great
HISTORY-CHANNEL called, Project
Bluebook!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I also remember that wonderful soon to follow STAR
TREK-THE NEXT GENERATION (TNG) show, created by
futurist Mister Gene Roddenberry, who
seemed to know about my choking condition,
way back on the original sixties show, with the inventor of warp
drive, Mister Zephran Cochran, when the landing party landed on that
asteroid where one of the COILS had mated with
Mister Cochran. There is absolutely no way that Mister
Roddenberry could have known so much unless he REALLY
DID
KNOW ABOUT
ALL OF THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Anyway, the episode where Data the
sentient android had made radio contact with an
alien child named Sarjenka, and the voice that they gave to
her, matches almost perfectly to many sounds that appeared on my
tapes, as I had a recording system connected up to all of my
telephone stuff, and many times when CONTACT
was made with me, the little girl on the other end sounded
very much like
Sarjenka,
and they all knew it
too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now whether this is why my telephone
was fucking busted back last Friday or NAUT, MIZZ AT&T BLAKE; I
do not know. But I do know that I don't believe it just suddenly went
bad. I don't fucking buy into that for “one damn minute, Admiral
Kirk and Captain Spock”, with or without alien-coils from the
goddamn fucking PURGATORY, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
lads and lassies, between Count Von-Lennon Marcucci and Mister
Jehovah Witness Woodside, someone or something, CAPTAIN KIRK sure
seemed to have some powerful and forbidden knowledge pertaining to
the offspring of one Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr. Like
golly gash darn and gee wiz Gollllllleeeeey, Sargent Carter Pyle
Avenue at apartment #125-A!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Let
me tell you a quick powerful story, and you all can just go and judge
all of this for yourselves, me BRAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! What
began for me as sort of a game, has turned into a wild horrendous
unfathomable hell. Now what if we should all follow the advice
of a great Astroblake spellchecker astrophysicist or cosmologist by
the name of Doctor Carol Sagan, and UP THAT BY
ONE DIMENSION? Get it? I am beginning to think that everything
everywhere, just may well have started out as game of curiosity and
intrigue, and then over enough time, who knows; evolved or
maybe devolved,
into this condition of present-cosmos.
That would literally be a totally precise macrocosm of the
Mountainpen's infinitely hellish existence or his (Huntington Curse).
My
Morians, Lessians, and Blogaudians in general, let me tell you
another interesting little fact for you to gnaw on should you ever
choose to. The first two songs that I wrote not counting preteen
childish tunes and stupid lyrics, were both in the year 1969, and
they were written closely together in the warmer part of the year,
the first one in early June of 1969, called
“That's The Way It goes”, and the other one in the middle
of July, called “Burn
With
Fire”.
They both have extremely major significance, even though the
lyrics are teenager shit, and at first glance may appear mundane,
insignificant, and unimportant on any major human scales that measure
any of the stuff being discussed on this blog. Both
of these songs lead directly to the incredible and mighty
super goddess, PAULA KING of Atlantic
City, NJUSAESMWG. Now for some time in my forties, I was under the
false impression and delusion that her friend Sarah Callio was the
major player in all of this. Indeed there was and there
is a SARAH KRASSLE who appeared to me in a powerful DREAM-VISION,
every bit as incredible and inconceivable as any of the visions given
to prophets in the holy Jewish Bible (KJV) and other versions of the
Hebrew Bible, that discusses Jehovah-God. I now totally believe that
PINK GODDESS is the force that surrounds
our MILKY WAY GALAXY, and SHE is Almighty Scylla Jehovah
Goddess AKA the TRIPLE-GODDESS, and AKA countless other names. Now
for quite a long time, the BOM (Blogs Of
Morianity) have discussed my ideas on parallel
universes, that the great Albert Einstein only made small
references to, and yes, backed up in mathematical equations, helping
me to a large degree in present times, to argue my points with the
rest of humanity. Do all roads really lead to Paula King? Yes they
do, but to another Paula King. For a long time now, my younger
daughter who resides in an incredible cosmic location, one of the
localized parallel universes to this one where I type out this blog
today, PEE, has been attempting to make contact with me. She has done
this in an amazing way. Not all of the contact that I have come to
think and believe is from the Astral-plane (Purgatory), is indeed
coming from there. A lot of things may appear to be, but appearances
as all of you know only too damn ass well, can be quite mother
fucking deceptive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PEE
has been trying to contact me ever since I was a little child in this
universe. I realize this now. Time is not following some kind
of a parallel pattern between these otherworldly worlds. Unlike that
really marvelous and cool sixties television show, “Dark
Shadows”, where things did run in parallels; in real
truth, bands of time, as well as bands of hyperspace universes are no
more connected to each other in ways that are mortally understood,
than a damn housefly could be taught to do college algebra. PEE
is the one who can use the techniques of the ESS (Exploratronic
Supermind Society) to work through her parallel world sister MC, as
well as my baby mama, and as well as giant Atlantic city P.K.
It is not that numerous people are all the same real one person, but
it is as all things, the simplest explanation is usually best and
most accurate. Here, the simplest explanation
is that PEE came to me in a powerful dreaming interaction while I
lived at Jenny Plageman's Trailer Park in Mullica Township,
NJUSAESMWG, just east of Hammonton, back in the early years of this
century, and she let me know that she was real and she was there, and
she would try to contact me. SHE INDEED
HAS DONE THIS, but not in ways that are one hundred percent
understood by me. Few things ever are fully logical, here on
the Earth Planet. My mom used to say it so perfectly and with
repetition, “Mark, this is Earth, not
Heaven”. She was absolutely correct!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now there are unlimited amounts of parallel realms in the vast and
unfathomable fifth dimensional hyperspace. Some locales exist where I
was murdered by a New Jersey State Trooper in a secluded wooded area
in a place not that far away from the trailer park. In some others, I
somehow lived through this, or was retraced back and spliced back
into reality by HALLS FAWCES. But nothing here is simple. It
is like trying to piece together the great winding roads of the
ESS-Comcast Cable System, and the dinosaurs and huge dangerous wild
animals that were all over the place, that an older blog
talked about, and many may recall. PEE worked
through Patty Hollister here in this universe, so that I could
receive the magic knowledge from the great goddess 'FASCITAR',
who resides on the opposite side of the huge mountain pass river
area, called the RING RIVER, in the neighboring province one over
from Olympia. She is part of a branch of the lost
Arteemis Gods, as they call themselves, or some mortals
call them the demigods, one whom I have met there, as well as here on
the Earth-planet, whose name there is Psyche
Myrathus, and here, is Steve Murray.
Goddess Fascitar arranged for him to be here in this dream off of the
purgatory, and then to receive a phone call to start a job that he
never applied for, at the Griffin Pipe Company of Florence Township,
New Jersey, USAESMWG, in the year of none other than, like WOW,
1986!!!!!!!! Another slang term used in the Purgatory, for this lost
branch of Olympian gods, is the Ringrivertons. The top of those
mountains juts up into the nestern regions of the area over nine
miles. The beauty of the place is absolutely beyond indescribable.
The
group of peeps who is reading me now has recently brought a couple of
things to my attention. They have done some investigating and have
found that my suspicions are all true about the people in Atlantic
city all being pals and connected in some sort of something. They
cannot pin it down, but Dave Roth was sure right when he told me back
in 1997 that I have opened up a hornets nest. The guy said to me a
very interesting thing. He mentioned the new computers that some
people have heard about. They are not ready for the market yet, and I
doubt that they will be allowed for a long while yet, until the
genius intel community can figure out how to prevent hackers from
using them to literally do things that could end life on Earth. I
speak of the Cubits and the Quantum-computers. After reading about
how gamers could effect outcomes of roulette wheels that I discussed
back last year, he told me that he heard another quantum mechanics
genius mention a similar item once. We did not have too much time to
talk, but we will be getting together hopefully in March. Basically
he was telling me that he thinks he knows what I am saying, and that
if this can be done, what would stop a talented hacker from being
able to apply a similar strategy to the cyberworld? Now remember
folks, I am no computer geek genius, and I can only go so far with
that topic with my present lack of great computer skills. I reminded
him that a roulette wheel is a piece of wood and the ball is a little
marble. It has no memory and it is not sentient. Yet it can be
effected. Then he proved to me that he understood my principles. He
said to me, “What would stop someone with a quantum computer
someday from being able to effect more than a gaming house wheel, but
an entire business, or an entire town, or county, or state, or
nation, or planet”? I said back to him, “Nothing at
all”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He then said to me without using any
clutch pedals, just throwing the conversation into a new gear and
grinding the metal really good, “I have studied your recent posted
info about the Fascitar, and how your baby-mama made sure your mom
would bring it home for you to then order it from the school”. I
said back to him, “Yes, so”? He went onto say, “Our group has a
theory for your perusal. This Fascitar Astral
Projection information was to get you primed for CONTACT, and
then they made sure to start a company and create the
contact-machine, your Privecode”. Then
he finished with, “In-between those two events was your 1980
Love Is for Carpenters interaction”. It not only fits, but
it is symbolic as you would say Mark, as in the lightning code of
1-2-3”. I came up to my apartment, and began to dwell on his words.
Then I saw what he was saying. (1) Patty
made sure I would get the info from that school, and order the
Fascitar info. (2) I was primed for
contact, and half a dozen years later came the Paula King 1980 LOIS
FOCA DREAM. (3) 1983 came, I left 1802
Robin Hill for 134 Norris Avenue in Atco, plugged in Privecode, and
to quote Doctor Emil Farmers Skota of L&O, “I
was cleared for takeoff”!!!!!
The
few things that are not completely 'dot-connected' yet, I truly
believe will be, once that marvelous PROJECT
BLUEBOOK show is completed, if HALLS FAWCES/MILI-2-FORCE
permits them to fully air it. I now fully believe that PEE got into
Merry as well as Patty, giving me all of those powerful 2008 DREAMING
INTERACTIONS, bringing back the repressed memories of that day with
my older daughter up on the island when she was a toddler, and my
Aunt Ruth Huntington Gottwald took me on that road-trip to the north
shore to visit her older daughter Christine Myers, and my cousins
Scott and Christopher Myers, and did that dog walking. All these
things just had to come to pass, because it is the only way for PEE
to eventually contact me, and maybe for the first time in human
history, prove the reality eventually of the hyperspace equation and
parallel universes. That would be a giant leap for humankind that
would make even mister Neil Armstrong cough up five quarts of blood.
Wow that, Roseann Delaney, without any young
transfusions!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END
TWANSMISSION.
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Jan
31, 2019 5:00 PM – Feb 7, 2019 4:00 PM **** Jan 31, 2019 5:00 PM –
Feb 7, 2019 4:00 PM
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FEBRUARY 7, 2019, AT 4:52 P.M.
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