ETERNAL
JOURNAL OF SONGWRITER
MARK
MUD
SECTION--------G3
1:45
P.M., SATURDAY, 3 AUGUST, 2019
I
was rudely assaulted by my dirtbag noisy's next door, or one third of
my TRIAD-NABES-FROM-DOGTOWN that will be referred to in future
reference from time to time as my 'TNFD'. Somewhere jut shy of twelve
noon, they were slamming and banging like real total crazy's.
WEEEEEEEEEEEE, so what else is new, same old same old, same shit on a
different day, (WEIN-SOSO-SSDD)?????????
The across the hall noisy's have been annoying as shit lately also,
and it is only a matter of mother fucking time before the full third
triad above me also kicks in wit their relentless furniture moving
dogshit. Right now it is my across the hall scum slamming away, as
they've been doing for days now, along with the shits next to me.
GEE-WHIZ SHERIFF MASCARA, THIS BITES AND CHEWS TO THE FIFTH POWER,
YO!!!!! SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM-SLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Some
dirt bag hacker is screwing with my mother fucking computer, and
Sheriff sir, this has been several days now of ENDLESS
MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING ELDER ABUSE AND TOTALLY ILLEGAL HARASSMENT AND
PERSECUTION, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!
AUGUST
is usually even worse than JULY;
maybe not always in direct sieges, but more as never ending memories
of absolute misery. Real fucking horrendous ghosts from the past, ON
STEROIDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! July is bad enough, with Paula
King and July
12 and the bus that night
at half past ten in the year 1970, and my face being all sunburned
and “messed up”, huh Mizz King? Then along came 27
years later in 1997, when you somehow amazingly knew to be
right there on Tennessee Avenue when I was there, and be sure that I
saw you there at your parking lot or your dad's, as he was still
amongst the great land of the non-Patty
H.H.H.'s Blue Candles Club, back
in 1997, but how can we NAUT be quite Aunt
Geraldine Snow Mason “impressed”,
by the '27' year time gap, yo?
A
ton of other shit from July and its many past histories for me,
definitely exists. But for right now, it is August that is the topic
of major fucking issue, peeps, yo. Early in August of 1996, there was
the terrorist threat made to my mother that day over at the
Turnersville Pathmark Shopping Center, in Washington Township, New
Jersey, on the Black Horse Pike, while I was residing at HIGHVIEW
APARTMENTS, in good old beyond wows-ville-(WILL-I-AM-ST-OWN),
AKA the Satanic “I
WILL's” of the Bible, spoken by the Devil to the great I
AM, or Sarah ST-acey Jehovah
Krassle, the one who OWN's everything
everywhere, forever and ever and ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Talk
about the epitome of quintessential symbolism and James Redfield
Synchronicity, yo!!!!!!!!!!!! If damn ass Williamstown
doesn't jump right out, and bite us all right in the throat, along
with Rosanne Delaney, and Barnabas Collins; then my question to any
one of you out there in cyberville, is WHAT
DOES for Crissake????
Yes
on August 2, 1996, that monster dude terrorized my poor elderly
mother, by threatening the life of her son,
right to her face, me. He had
been following us for many miles, Sheriff Mascara, sir. Then the
MILITUFORCE did a SUBS AND SWIRLS 1986 ALIEN
CONTACT AUTO DAMAGE ASSAULT on us, and made our BRAND
NEW SATURN AUTOMOBILE SUDDENLY JUST DIE
for absolutely no rhyme or reason that has any logic from the
real rational world pertaining to it. My mother was never ever the
same after that, and the Jersey fucking authorities all totally know
that this is real, it happened, and that my claims of her total
destruction are also absolutely fucking valid on their face. I swear
these things to be totally true as well, UNDER
FULL PAIN AND PENALTY OF LEGAL PERJURY. But
August up in the following century and millennium took on an entirely
new and powerful tradition of major deadly attack and mirrored
reflections and projections, that were
aimed and directed at me, straight out
of the gates of Astral-Plane 'DOGTOWN',
such as when it all began in the first place at Richard Barf's Cherry
Hill rental home on Route 70, in the illustrious town of Cherry Hill,
New Jersey, back in August of 1986!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I speak of
the great and marvelous Tulleytown Landfill, owned by the world
famous family destroyer capitalist swine bag billionaire bastard that
owns the garbage Auto Nation here in Florida, as well as the almighty
Waste Management Company where these Pennsylvania landfills were
situated, and where I was employed by a subcontractor security
company called Assets Protection, as a security guard. I have told
how Patty and her morbid fascination with the hidden (occult) stuff,
led her to take our kid one night over there to try and communicate
with 'Bloody Mary' who drowned in the lake there on her way to a
party. Jayjay the security officer told me a lot of wild things that
did not peak my interest at all in those days and times because I had
not yet fully become aware of many things such as having a grown up
daughter. I have no standing to sue because the world does not
recognize my paternal interests here, however, even if the world did
concede to it, the statute of limitations would have long run out. My
kid has never been the same since that night. I did not witness it,
but was told this story by Jayjay the guard, and I've blogged it
before. That greedy capitalist swine quite obviously accepted a
several thousand dollar bribe, allowing Patty and Merry to go up
there that night in 2001. I of course was told the story in 2002
after I had fallen asleep myself near where Mary died, and was asked
by Jayjay, and I quote, after my returning to the headquarter gate
house of the landfill, “Mark did you see her”? I didn't even know
what he was referring to and it took five sentences more in
conversing before I realized that he was asking me if I had seen the
ghost of Bloody Mary. Still, July and August seems to be when the
FAMILY gets destroyed, and believe it or not, many times, in a CIVIL
WAR. Fittingly so in these times up here in twenty mother fucking
nineteen to be discussing civil wars, as I fully believe that this
nation is about to embark on a real live 2nd CW. I wonder
if it will be historically referenced as the CIVIL WAR ll? A child
can see that the events are all stacking up towards this unstoppable
eventuality, yo!!!!
JULY
and AUGUST is what OCTOBER and MARCH
used to be for me, about three decades ago. Speaking of symbolic and
repeating words, but I can only think of these months that have
somehow mysteriously become switched all around, as my WATERLOO
MONTHS. Jeepers Creepers Mister
Redfield!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sheriff
Mascara, one minute after the opening mother fucking crooked Wall
Street bell, my ILLEGAL COCK SUCKING COMPUTER HACKERS CRASHED MY
OPEN OFFICE SYSTEM.
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---RED ALERT
RED
ALERT----RED ALERT---RED ALERT
SO
HOW FUCKING FAIR IS THIS. THEY PERSECUTE ME THE MINUTE THAT THE
MOTHER FUCKING GODDAMN STOCK MARKET OPENED UP, AND THIS ALLOWED THEM
TO GAIN AN 1LLEGAL 350 POINTS OR SO, AND THIS IS WHY SINCE
AUGUST OF 1986, IT HAS GAINED THIS RIDICULOUS ABSURD RALLY
THAT WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE WITHOUT
HURTING ME, AND IS WHY I FULLY INTEND TO SUE WALL STREET SOME
DAY FOR ONE TRILLION MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' DOLLARS, MISTER PRESIDENT
OBAMA, KIND SIR. AND I'LL GET IT TOO. GO GO GO BERNIE, GO
GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL
THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO
BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE
BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE,
I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I
FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL
THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE
BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN,
I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO
GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL
THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO
BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE
BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE,
I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I
FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL
THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE
BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN,
I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO
GO GO BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL
THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO
BERNIE, I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE
BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, GO GO GO BERNIE,
I FEEL THE BURN, I FEEL THE BURN, I
FEEL THE BURN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MARCH
15, 2015,
SUNDAY
AFTERNOON AT 2:00,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 83 DEGREES FNHT.
HUMIDITY
IS 65%, FEELING LIKE 87 DEGREES.
SMALL
E WINDS ARE 6, GUSTING TO 7.
RIP
TIDES RECENTLY BAD FROM EARLIER HIGH WINDS.
HERE
I SIT ANGRY AS SHIT. THE SIXTIES WERE GREAT, BUT NOW IT'S
TOO LATE. SO DO NOT SIT THERE BROKEN HEARTED, COME AND
SHIT, DON'T SAY YOU FARTED!
And
I thought that nightmare was horrendous that was responsible for that
Theraflu Cold Med Commercial, where Pee broke Gemma's face into
pieces, like the guy in the dam ad, only his face never explodes as
it would if he was really struck by powerful awesome PEE. And still I
am always left to wonder, just what would all of these entertainment
world peeps do without me? Still my daughters need to bury me and not
the other way around. That is the ultimate nightmare. Don't go here
with me, I am still crying while typing this blog, it was so fucking
real, and no one wants their children to die in their arms.
Especially someone who knows the power of Hyperspace Towel Seepage.
This is why I know those fucking dam church carolers don't mean me
any good at all, Jennifer Washburn, Tiffany,
and Peter Vitteritti, YO! GET IT?
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
**''ISIS-JUPITER
HAS HER WITNESSES, NOW I NEED MINE''**
The
asshole noisy nabes are really making me nuts these days, kind
Sheriff Kenneth J. Mascara. I hope someday to move the fucking hell
out of here, sir. $$$$$$$$$ has been used
against me all of my life or really, THE MOTHER FUCKING LACK THEREOF,
in some organized terrorist way, by none other than the 1986
SUBS AND SWIRLS MILITUFORCE, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!
Lads and lassies, a
lot of things from my old blogs that need to be archived by clicking
on them, when I post the prompt for doing just that; is being
rehashed. Who reads old blogs, and for that matter, who
cares about stuff posted in 2006 or 2007 or 2008, up here in the
twenty-teen years? So I must re-tell stuff if I want new
updated blog material to make any sense to my viewers at all, not
that they do anyway, since in all odds, no one has experienced this
incredible wild ride through fifth dimensional hyperspace, as have I.
Folks need to personally relate in at least some way, or they just
cannot grasp things such as what is printed by Mountainpen, and
I totally 'GET THAT'!!! But now that I have told a few
things that were quite key and major, and incredibly pivotal in my
early life; it is time to go into adulthood and
early adult life, to really tie together some powerful stuff. Now in
order to best serve that goal; I will be
taking you to the place where I had originally met my best adult
friend, Mister David Charles Roth, at the Caldor Department Store, in
early November of 1985. All things not only tie together, but
when I get done with all of this, some people if they require any
heart medication, please, I strongly urge you, have it dam ready and
at your side before the next few blogs that I write, all play out for
you. I am not responsible for coronary's, Joe Paget insanity attacks,
or anything else, not after this legitimate dam warning, great people
out there!
When Dave and I
first met as security guards at this place in Woodbury Heights, New
Jersey, USA, nearly twenty years ago now; and again, all of this was
indeed blogged back during my first tri-blog, if we can sort of
looking at my nine year blogging career as a pregnancy with three
periods that are called trimesters, each lasting three months long,
only with the blogs, each of these tri-blogs last three years, but
yes, when we first met; he worked what is called in the bizz,
'in-house' meaning he worked directly for Caldor, the name of this
department store that lasted about a decade or so and then went belly
up. I on the other hand was contract-security, which in the
security-bizz, simply put, meant that I worked for a security outfit
who goes around getting clients, such as the Caldor Department Store
and many other accounts. Usually, due to middleman costs, in-house
security pays better and has better bennies as well. Now this basic
information is out of the way, I'll get right to the heart of the
situation without beating around any bushes. Two guards were on two
twelve hour shifts, 8-8, both in the AM, and the PM; and David and I
were the night guard force. Actually, I think the AM force had three
or four bodies, while the night was only two; as no one was entering
or exiting the premises, and they remained secured, and less chance
of theft as a resulting factor. Simply put, they were bringing
merchandise into the store, and stocking it up; and when we first
started at the beginning of November in 1985, they were still
constructing and finishing up carpentry work, and electrical work; in
the offices of the place. Speaking of this, the office areas, is the
exact thing I want to discuss here, and try to get all of you
thinking and pondering, on what I'll now tell to you.
Dave
was a cool dude and had a very similar life to mine in numerous ways.
I won't bore any of you with details. But within two weeks, he knew
all the stuff that had gone down in my life that was major, such as
what the music industry had done to me, my job at RPL back 5 years
ago from then, my dealings with the strange mysterious lightning
goddess DIANA and my telephone situation in Atco, New Jersey, and
most everything else from that time right down to good old jerk off
ex-friend Jim Burr, who as you know, I still had contact with up
until the end of the decade, when it was severed permanently. But
what David was not made aware of, was the SARAH KRASSLE situation.
This as some of you may know and remember, was done the following
spring time in 1986; while David and I were just out socially as two
guys having a good time on a Saturday and going to a diner in the
Marlton, Medford Lakes area of Southeastern New Jersey, called the
Medport Diner. Diana was talked about at Caldor, and Sarah was talked
about in the diner at this Medford Lakes area, months after we
originally had met and become best friends. Telling him about Sarah
caused immediate counterstriking by some invisible force, and we can
get into all of this later, and as stated, it is on many first
tri-blog Morianity, accessible only through the five-blog archive
click prompt. But the topic tonight is back into just two weeks into
our friendship, one night at the Caldor Store, in the offices. I told
him a lot about Diana and the phone stuff where this goddess could
just get onto your phone line even when the phone company took me off
line for a repair. This was the famous, “I
don't need this, no how no nothing” incident. After I told
him about an hours worth of these stories from my past of two and a
half years or so; the phone rang. There was no phone service
connected yet. This is a fact, just as in Atco, when there was no
active line or dial tone during a major investigation by the
Annoyance Caller Bureau of the AT&T, while working with the
Account Executive, Miss Blake. Long story cut as short as is humanly
possible; he would answer the phone and no one was there. But while
he was in the Mens-Room an hour later, and I was alone in the
offices; the phone rang again and I picked it up and said, “Caldor
Store Security, how can I help you”. After a short pause, a young
girl giggled and said a few quick words and giggled again, and then
the line went totally dead. I never told Dave that this happened when
he returned from the can. BUTTTT, the following night at the store, a
few hours after we arrived there, a strange windowless van was
outside the store with all kinds of antennas and blacked out windows.
When David went to check it out after it moved around but was in our
lot area for two hours, it sped away. It had no license tags, front
or back. It returned several other nights, but as soon as David and I
went out together with flashlights, it would just quickly drive away.
But I want to discuss a philosophical conundrum with my blogging
audience so that you all can arrive at your own ideas and
conclusions, as this blog is not here to tell any of you how to
think, merely to report a real life story from out beyond the gates
of freaking hell for three dam decades!
If
some covert agency was electronically cutting into the dead
switchboard, why then would they come around after the fact, as if
they are scared to death that some aliens were making contact or
something; just as we all know happens, from watching any of those
television shows on the History or Science channels on cable TV; and
the original stuff that discussed all of this MIB TYPE BEHAVIOR on
the WPIX-TV, Channel 11, NYNY documentary, called, “UFO-The
Cover-Up”, back in the year 1988, with Agents Condor and
Falcon?????????????????????????? If this van crap hadn't happened,
then I would say the entire thing was done by human agents for
reasons that only their twisted and deranged minds can dig. But since
it did all go down like this, lads and lassies; then I say it is this
GODDESS all along, that started all of this with me, back in 1980, at
age ten; and who lived here as Sarah in Atlantic City, back in the
sixties; and now is here as MC. This may indeed
sound about as off the wall as it gets, but I will promise you this,
folks. If Professor Kaku of the NYU were shown all of my thirty five
year evidence file, he would not just check it off as delusion and
insanity. He understands the powers behind Quantum Dynamics.
Now this is a super condensed and abridged tid bit of information,
this blog and the past few before this one, that will begin tying
together, a major super secret truth, that GOD ALMIGHTY comes here to
this world, over and over, most likely in almost every generation,
and when you think hard on it, why not? If you
had a super video game
like this; why wouldn't you be Lawn-Mower Man or (woman), and ''JACK
INTO THE GAME'' more than just once, as Jesus? What, are you
all dense or something? Talk about crossing over.
I
TRIED TO ESCAPE ATLANTIC CITY MORE THAN ONCE
CHAPTER
25
It's
sunny and hot with a few white puff clouds scattered around the skies
of Fort Pierce, Florida. In all honesty, ''I couldn't care less'',
to quote the great OJAY SIMPSON, from the great 'Medical-Center' hit
TV show of the early nineteen-seventies; what the weather is doing in
good old GAP-Atlantic City. So WEEEEEEE and TV and all of that great
stuff, YO!
Thank
you Mister Norton, for the Performance Alert pop up screen. What am I
supposed to do about it, YO?
This
is the unofficial AMA Web-Page opening. It should be anyway, and the
pond needs to be FILLED with these QUACKING
DUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, I know that when I die from this
early eighties situation that is as much metaphysical as it ever was
and is physical; the entire world will know the real truths of the
great KENNEDY-STAR FAMILY from 1970 WASHCLOTH H-E-L-L. Even
this bloody-booby knows that much, Sir Billy Crouch!
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR, BLOGS
OF
MOUNTAINPEN,
2006-2019
(THE
BOM)
Paula,
Sarah, Nina, Sandy, and the Shah of Iran. In older blogs from my
first two out of nine plus years, I talked about how my mom and I
stayed at the Trinidad Hotel on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City,
New Jersey, for summer vacations. We would go twice annually, once in
late June and once in middle August. This was done a total of eight
times; the season of 1965, 1966, 1967, and 1968. The 1967 season was
when my cousin Sandy came with us, at the request of her mom, my Aunt
Geraldine Snow Mason. She was very good friends with the Shah of
Iran. All of this was connected with stuff that goes back for
thousands of years. No one believes the story including members of my
own family. I don't care, because I have the inner strength that
comes from KNOWING the truth. The Shah put my Aunt up to going
somewhere and then asking her sister in law or my mom, to take my
Cuzz-Sandy along with us, and I cannot pull up in my mind due to a
CALLIO-MCGUIRE BLOCK MIND-HACK, whether it was the June or the August
stay, but it was 1967. I had originally thought that it was 1968, but
my Cousin-Don insisted that Sandy said no buttwipe cousin Mark, it
was 1967. She had her boyfriend, David with her, but he was staying
with friends of Don. She was staying with my mom and me, bunking on
one of the two beds in the room. Originally, things happened to me
that are not bloggable, and I was also mind-hacked by this entire
team, so that I would block out that experiment one was not a
success, and that experiment two had to be conducted, even after my
mom and I no longer went down to this hotel, which by the way, south
of the border, the word 'TRINITY' is pronounced 'TRINIDAD'.
THE
GAP APOLLO-LUCIFER ABBADON DIABOLIS,
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-MILITUFORCE-OTAMMITE KING, ETCETERA, (all the same
difference), is out to totally wipe me out, with a major vengeance.
Him and his dam powerful oblitron box,
some might call an ultra advanced tablet, and his twin sister's
non-'Kenny-Astral-cousin', and HER chain that SHE took away from me
in a powerful dream interaction, back in December of 1969, is the
real background to all of my nightmare story. As I said before folks,
and now in reiteration; MY STORY TELLS ITSELF,
so suppress it all you fucking want to world. As the old copyrighted
tape has me on record saying back in early 1984, ''MY STORY COMES OUT
TRUE, SO PLEASE BE ADVISED''!
Another
parallel part of this story, is told on the internet, as well as on
many BERMUDA TRIANGLE DOCUMENTARIES; where the Florida radio station
talk show host, was commandeered, equipment-wise; by those calling
themselves, and I QUOTE, the {{{(((“MILLIONTH-COUNCIL”)))}}}.
Every brother chucking snot eating claim that I ever make,, or have
made or will go on making, on this wide world web system; is totally
true and accurate. It all can be backed up by anybody with the dam
desire to GOOGLE around, and find it all out for themselves, my
BRAHHH!!!!!!!
MY JERSEY BLOGS, PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2015.
MY PRECIOUS SWEET
DIANA, PLEASE DON'T GO AWAY. LYRICS FROM MY 1985 SONG CALLED, ''I'M
CRIANA''.
But
there is a bit more to this. Just a few days before he came over in
the middle of the night and on a night that fortunately for the both
of us, my mom just happened to be out as I said, on a date.
Otherwise, we both would have been orbiting Oaklyn, New Jersey to
this day, with some help from 'Biceps-Mom'. I had gone to sleep as
stated, a few nights before this incident, and fell into the wildest
interaction in hyperspace, that is imaginable. This experience has
stayed with me for life and is just as strong in my mind right now
after four an da half decades have gone by, as when this was freshly
ongoing. Sarah appeared and we were on a beach together. I am not
going to tell the numerous details. Not on this blog. It has been
blogged years back, and needs not be fully repeated in major detail
right now. But the towel-seepage effect of hyperspace was so major
that rarely is anything remotely similar to this, recorded in the
history of humankind. She told me that needed my chain that I had in
the same large strong-box in my bedroom closet. She needed it she
told me, for her great city. I had no idea what she was talking
about, only that I was holding this chain in my hands in this wild
'dreaming' experience. She made that statement and then took it out
of my hands. She also told me that when I come back to my waking
world, to check my closet, as it will be gone, and this is not an
ordinary dream. Well it wasn't and there is no arguing that for a
second. I woke up and checked, and indeed, the chain was gone and my
mind was completely blown. Then an hour and a half later, I boarded
the bus to go to school and within no time at all, a huge asterisk
chemtrail formed in the skies suddenly, right out of nowhere. It was
incredibly beautiful. It slowly began to evaporate, and while it
did, instead of doing what most jet vapor trails did back in those
days, it grew bigger and thicker and expanded into what looked like
the magnified star of David's Bethlehem, and all of Camden County,
New Jersey must have seen it on that cold brisk December morning. I
had written the most recent entry into this book that Russell
convinced me needed to be burned, and described the dream and what
happened after the dream with finding the chain had indeed gone
missing, and followed by that incredible monster chemtrail all over
the skies of an entire county. He had a lighter with him as he
smoked as well as drank and did weed, the whole sixties bag and more,
and he said, do you have a place we can safely burn it. I told him I
would stack some five pound weight pieces that Sidney Crown had given
to me for my birthday, and on top of two on each side, I placed the
metal strong box, and he tore out all the pages and set a few on fire
in sections so the fire wouldn't grow too big. As stated, up in
smoke on that early morning, went my only proof of lots of the roots
of all of my Atlantic City mysterious woes out of the gates from
hell. I felt the need to re-tell this on this blog before I begin
to really get into some powerful new junk, as the final months of my
life play out. I believe I am only going to live into the spring, and
then, I will be dead and gone. I want justice and I want my story kn
own about after my covert murder is completely carried out and I am
secretly executed. Because people, my death will appear of course,
normal, after-all folks younger than me and men especially, die at 60
and under. Also, if you study statistics on special education people
like myself, they are also in a statistically averaged reduced span
of lifetime.
There
were four years not like the others in my life, where strange counter
forces seemed to be operating around me, making my life less hellish
and almost appearing miraculously blessed, relatively speaking for me
anyway. These years were 1969, 1980, 1994, 2011, with the 2011 being
the least of these four, but to quote Jimmy Buffet, ''I believe I
could have played a better game of cards with what was being dealt to
me''; so I screwed up, maybe; as who can ever know, and this is why
people, although they all love to do it; should not engage too often
in playing mind games regarding hyperspace equation, you know, the
shoulda woulda coulda crap! Still, these 48 total months were
definitely different in some very strange ways, to all the other
times of my total 723.3 months here on this Earth as Mark Wayne Mohr.
The funny part is that even a hundred genius Einstein minds could not
make this up; not what I am about to impart on the next few
sentences. All four of these years connected to Sarah Krassle in huge
ways, no exceptions. The final one had a scenario play out that is
not bloggable. I also cannot ever tell you some things I do to
maintain sanity, as without doing it, I would be a blithering blob
being fed by tubes. Two people are involved in it and if they're
reading it, they'll know what's being said. That's as far as I safely
feel I should go with that. But yes, one day in middle 2011
somewhere, they both wanted to know if I wanted to change the rules.
I did not. Unlike whatever they thought they knew about my wild
situation which has eternal consequences and significance that they
would be clueless about; All I am safe to say is that I live in many
varying motions of time. I don't dare live in the very same real time
that you all do, and this of course makes interacting in a normal
life, totally impossible. But it is not some choice that I made
because I found a pair of shoes I like or a tie or even a car, and
then went onto purchase it. I do what I do for the simple reason,
that I must do it, or I am going to rapidly be transformed into a
babbling idiot. There are times it doesn't work. I cannot see into
the future in my own waking world, and learn that all of my stuff is
going to be taken away from me. I am not God, and never claimed to
be. So when such things interfere with how I operate, then that is
part of some higher divine providence data; as I call it. I don't
feel comfortable taking this conversation any further. The more my
enemies understand and grasp some of my survival tools, the more they
will become able to defeat me and them with such maneuvers as was
just mentioned. Do I believe this entire thing was planned with this
family, so I would lose all of my stuff? Hey, by my way of thinking,
and you can call me paranoid or delusional or both all you want to,
people, but I don't see how this could be anything BUT THE CASE! The
bible talks about forces of the heavens that know all of us millions
of years before we are born, just read it all in the bible, and don't
listen to me. So my words on this topic for right now are quite
simple, ''please don't get me going''.
And
the games begin. Things were quiet, but as soon as my MIND
CONNECTON began working, the sixth dimension to my physical world
human brain, for lack of any other way of putting this; things began
to start instantly. This is what I used to mislabel as ''They're
reading my mind and fucking with me''. It is a very automated bunch
of fucking hell that is all going on around us all, and me included,
as in that respect, I am no different than any one of you. I differ
only in this hell I must endlessly fucking endure, and my weird
ability to keep persisting through time and surviving it, which led
me to total enlightenment, not to mean for a second that I know it
all. Enlightenment to some basic truths has nothing what so fucking
ever to do with knowledge regarding individual things in the physical
world. A brain is a brain, and whether it be a little bigger or
better physically than a somewhat punier brain, it is basically a ten
watt receiving element from the sixth dimension, and you just cannot
put ten million watts into a ten watt item, this would be tantamount
to thinking you can go buy amplifiers and hook them up together like
a professional musician on a large stage, totally say 10,000 watts,
and then hooking these into output audio monitors or (speakers) that
only total 10 watts of power handling ability. So even though the
newest thing being discussed in the scientific community is varying
formulas regarding how much can ever be known due to some various
unbreakable codes that are all somehow built into cosmos, the real
truth is the double knowledge horizon barrier, caused by this wattage
example given here. Even the collective of all of humanity forever,
is a one watt speaker on a book shelf, and the total absolute system
of knowable items comes from a source putting out billions of these
parable-watts. This causes the mirage that the more we learn, we see
that there is so much more to learn, like holding two small cardboard
rectangles in front of our face, and each time you move the one
closer to your eyes one inch further away so you can see more, you
need to move the other piece that is further away, 5 inches more
away. Long Story Short (LSS), folks; we CANNOT ever know so much,
that knowing all we ever could, would be basically meaningless, in
the real absolute big picture of everything, and we would be just
about where we all are right now, at best; if we could reach that
point. What Morianity will do, if it is ever meant to, and it won't
if it is not meant to, and who can ever know; is stop all that talk
about supernatural verbiage, you know, demons and devils, possession,
miracles, heaven and hell, and along this line, and also
simultaneously, put to a quick halt, all the new so called
replacements for these old times items, you know, aliens,
extraterrestrial visitations, abductions, little gray's interfering
with humanity, and along that line, as well. There is one powerful
truth and always has been and always will be, and you know what I am
going to say next, or really, you have no reason to be wasting your
time up here on my blogs reading me. I speak of the EXPLORATRONIC
SUPERMIND SOCIETY. Those such as my old pal mister Baptest, who
prefer to insist that MIND is not EVERYTHING, that other THINGS OUT
BEYOND IT is what it is all about, will never alter their opinions.
MIND is what created space and time, hence SPACE-TIME-MIND or STM for
a short abbreviation, and this is truth no matter what and no matter
who loves this or hates this. Since MIND is on a higher dimension
than the hyperspace, and sends itself therefore down into the
multiverse of virtually unlimited 4-D space-time universes that all
vibrate differently on a powerful subatomic level, then this has to
be the truth, and no math formula can or ever will, disprove my
words, and or Morianity.
Jupiter,
Florida, welcomes you to Morianity;
COURTESY
OF CHANNEL 12 TELEVISION.
They
don't want me happy, do they Doctor Garrigan? Also, Paula Uwich
warned me about that rotten TAWF, and they are pals with my
daughter; I know this, without paying over nine grand for your con
job psychic service, phony lady. Hang around, all Paula's. The
Huntington's have a way of catching up with so many people,
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
You're not gonna' send me a fifteen year old, Paula? I don't want you
to; you crazy little bitch. Enjoy
your home all fixed up and lovely, with MY MONEY.
How
do you sleep at night?
Just how long is the Camden County New Jersey 911 system gonna' keep
the great secrets of the murderers in my rotten ass family, huh Sarah
Slut Callio? Hay,
Ann King sleeps like a dam baby,
with my 40 inch 5,000 dollar, 1995 television; the original largest
picture tube made in those days! Sleep on, wonderful GAP AKS!
PIP-PIP-PIP-PIP---PIP-PIP-PIP-PIP
Ed
Lynch was a strange old dog, my friends and fiends out there.
Ann Silva told me on the telephone just the other day, that she never
heard anything from him, and wonders if he remains in lock up, or is
now out of the hotel.
The
Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office has my legally paid for website
on his laptop's hard-drive.
His machine was legally confiscated back in the summer time somewhere
or early autumn, in the OH-MAROLA-NINE year. For those who wonder why
I use this term, you should access my archived blogging texts at the
site of www.blogger.com, in
case you are not even reading these words on this site, as I post
here, and to other internet spots. In case you won't do this, I had
several teachers in 1969 at a Haddonfield, New Jersey, special
education school, who both made some statements to me that would have
no possible rational explanation for being in fact made to me, one
especially to a boy not yet even fifteen years of age, that would at
least in today's world, would be considered quite inappropriate, and
in my opinion, sufficient grounds for getting a teacher suspended or
canned completely. We need not get into that one, but as for the
dates being called what I do from time to time, this teacher by the
name of Misses Marola, always refered to years in this 21st
century as for example, 2004 would be spoken as two thousand four.
Now bear in mind that this was being done in the year of 1969, and
except for the show known as, “2001, A Space Odyssey”, all
science fiction writers, and all other people, spoke of years as 2004
for example as twenty-oh-four, and so forth; and somehow the mighty
Misses Marola seemed to either be the only one who knew this by lucky
chance and guesswork, or because she 'traveled', and we are not
talking about Europe or the Bahamas, huh Nick, my old road-trip pal
of 1996 and 2008? Many people write books, and claim how their
so-called psychic abilities permit them traveling around so many wild
mysterious realms, and other times, and the Astral Plane; and I'll be
quite frank with my readers, I am very skeptical of 99+% of these
people, and their writings, and their claims. Most 'of', you, and
(NOT ODF) are also just as skeptical of mine. The difference with
mine however, is that these blogs are date and time stamped by the
websites they post up into, and cannot be CHEATED. Nobody is black
boxing between two websites here that they own, just to push counters
up. No one is black boxing between their own website and their own
U-tube postings either. This is all non-cheated, and REAL, and so are
my claims that what has happened to me, HAS INDEED FREAKING HAPPENED
TO ME FOLKS. Why anybody would cheat, or lie about anything; blows my
mind. Maybe a few real psychics are out there, but again, these
persons are merely able to expand on the same sense of FEEL, that all
of us have, it is like the human muscular system. Lift enough heavy
barbells, and keep upping the amount of weight you lift on various
exercises, that make different muscle groups grow bigger and harder
and stronger; and growing stronger is what results. Some truth is
here, and Paula Uwich of Glendora, New Jersey, is my personal proof
to all of this, as she has 'real power', and she knew about Braxton,
and from there; my own research just went on to super confirm many
other things, that I had suspected right along. How
could she know that “SARAH” was in prison?
I
SHOULD KNOW about this type of maximum security prison, as I blogged
my own version of it.
Nothing
is making any of this vanish into the hat of the Copperfield's, YET?
Let me move on now, and tell that I was attacked today with quite a
bit of annoying loud music, loud road noises, a computer Lattisaw
hack jack attack quack, and also a diarrhea attack. This was all
intentionally done to me by WOMO enemies, and they have not learned
yet, that they will be counter struck with my blogged out words,
immediately after giving me another emereffing rotten stinking BOTBAR
day! Here is what I now will tell from yesterday, and unlimited
future ammunition is available for me when these disease weeds of the
bay, continue giving me endless crap. Also, at right about half past
ten, just five quarters of an hour back, I took a super low and quite
loud private airplane attack, zenithing right over the roof of this
freaking ghetto house, here on the great all mighty 26th
Street, in good old FPFLUSAESMWG, in this exact signature vibration
of the atomic hyperspace, in five dimensions.
The
full long details will not be told, just a little bit to get some
hearts pumping nice and hard. I spent 153 days and nights, all in one
nine hour period; while residing in Cherry Hill, NJUSAESMWG, living
in another parallel universe, in 1986. Most of this story is not
bloggable. It is way too powerful, and it involves United States
Presidents, as well as top scientific and research facilities, and
classified information. I have no desire to be taken to the BAY and
have my door come crashing in a few hours from now by federal agents.
Still, when I was in this other location, the All Mighty Goddess of
this world and beyond, was interacting with me quite differently, as
were other people in numerous positions of power, authority, and name
recognition. I had been contacted by someone in Washington, DC, and
ordered to report to an address there, where a secret meeting took
place, with many powerful 'world owners'. They told me that a song
that my daughter had written and I had copyrighted for her, was a
cover up and that they knew I really could 'travel around' in
unconventional ways, and demanded that I tell them exactly what the
entire next 30 years would be like on Wall Street, and with major
events. Naturally, I denied it all, and said it was just music, and
that even if I could do these things, I would never be a party to
this type of horrendous despicable behavior. I was then taken to some
secret place in the Atlantic Ocean, an unknown small island, where
the military had a totally covert operation going; and I was placed
in a hospital type of housing area, mostly confined to one room, and
to my bed. Eventually, I was able to convince these captors of mine,
that I would cooperate with them, and so they released me back to a
place where I was residing on Ohio Avenue, in Atlantic City, where a
large walk up apartment building existed, that does not exist here in
this universe, and where I was living with a very gorgeous laboratory
technician from the Atlantic City Medical Center, by the name of
Phyllis Alexander. My wife there, Paula King, and myself, had
recently separated for a second time, and this time, it was because
of some scandal about my being in trouble with Wall Street, and the
SEC. I only have some of the details, but that is a lot more than I
ever remembered so far, from this powerful 1986 interaction. I had
many other places where I also lived, the main place was in Egg
Harbor, New Jersey, and over here, is known as the Roundhouse Museum,
but over there, it is exponentially larger and has five stories, and
nearby to it, is another building that housed about 220 families, and
all of the land around for several square miles; all was part of this
one estate. Paula as well as my younger daughter PEE, all lived
there, and I would visit there upon occasion. But I had a strange
enemy that came from the future, and had fun playing with me like a
toy. In my so-called fictional book called, “The Permission
Barrier”, some of this story is told, and disguised around a bit.
Still, it all happened. Putting pieces together in hindsight, when I
stayed at Tom Reale's home in 1970, over there, I had been there
every summer, and never at the Trinidad Hotel on Tennessee Avenue.
There was no Tom Reale over there, just the Callio family, and the
King family, and Victoria Callio and Paula King were all the same
person there, whereas this is all different here. In this universe, I
had fallen in love with Paula at the age of fifteen, and we were
married two years later, but she left me in 1979, and said that I was
too immature. The wild dude that I refer to as the alchemist in many
old blogs over the past 4-6 years, was one of Robert McGuire's sons,
and he had four sons. Over here, I do not know about his offspring,
and never even checked out this line of the great family after him,
as I was so busy checking his dad out, and those all around him in
many directions. This is another man of mystery. Only the man named
Ed Lynch knows this, besides me; as we witnessed his appearing in a
photograph, and we have no memory at all of his ever being right
there at the car on Tennessee Avenue that day. I was told that this
same thing was done to both 'MI and me', a little Latin verbal humor
here. The only reason that I have remembered it all slowly over the
past two years or so, is because by pure random chance, I played the
wrong side of a cassette tape at my job-site in my car, while
guarding at the Cifaloglio Trucking site one night. Hearing the “MI”
on the tape brought it all back, slowly, ever so slowly, and bit by
bit, and piece by piece, I now am where I am, but at this place where
I went to yesterday, or now really back on Friday, a strange dude
explained something to me that put things into a major hyper time new
perspective. The same enemies want me to help them in this universe,
only here, they are using me in an entirely different way. Over
there, casino gambling never happened in Atlantic City until the 21st
century came around. There was no roulette playing for me, and hence
no learning about PARALLEL EVENT, and how to apply this technology to
the game's three outside betting parameters, as explained by me on so
many of my past blogging texts. Over here, they just use the parallel
event on me, or said more accurately, against me, as they knew that
they could make their Dow Jones Markets go from 1,600 points to
14,000 points within twenty years. They did exactly this, and the 20
years after 1986 all speaks for itself. Still, as Neilson puts it so
well, this is how the story goes, but as I will now amend and add to
these great words, there is a lot more to this freaking tale of
misery and woe, and it will be forthcoming, first to the Atlantic
County Prosecutor, as I am going to demand my website back, as I
legally paid for it, and I did nothing wrong; thus I plan to hire a
Florida attorney, to pursue this matter, so
I can re-post this up, as the 'MORIANITY-FOUNDATION-2'.
WELL
ALL SAVANTS, 4-NOW, ''THE END''!
WELL
ALL SAVANTS, 4-NOW, ''THE END''!
WELL
ALL SAVANTS, 4-NOW, ''THE END''!
WELL
ALL SAVANTS, 4-NOW, ''THE END''!
WELL
ALL SAVANTS, 4-NOW, ''THE END''!
WELL
ALL SAVANTS, 4-NOW, ''THE END''!
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