NUMDWATATES
NOTE V1
5:38
ANTE'
MERIDIAN
WEDNESDAY
MORNING
18
SEPTEMBER, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
Mark
Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr
©
2006-2019, 'BOM' (Blogs
Of Mountainpen)
Sep
10, 2019 3:00 PM – Sep 17, 2019
2:00 PM
|
Mountainpen's
LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:
Wednesday,
September 18, 2019
CURRENT
PHASIE IS: WANING GIBBOUS 5:7
N.M.
WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 F.Q.
WXG1
WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6
WXG7
F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5
WNG6
WNG7 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4
WNC5
WNC6 N.M.
As
stated in the opening of my previous blog, roaches
and hammerers are a non ending hell in this mother fucking hellhole.
I truly believe that one causes the other. Every time the hammering
is bad, the FUCKING ROACHES GO ON A ROLL AS WELL, not some time, not
often, but EVERY SINGLE MOTHER FUCKING TIME, WONDERFUL KIND SHERIFF
KEN MASCARA, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I killed some giant ones on my wall
a couple hours ago, and again, I have emptied an entire can of mother
fucking RAID all over every square inch of this horrible rotten
apartment here at nightmare PUBLIC HOUSING. Many say this is all my
own fault. I call it the Judge Judy Syndrome. What
peeps in her category can never understand since they absolutely
cannot relate in any personal or human way to the miseries of truly
fucking cursed people such as myself,
is that no matter what we do or how hard we try,
ALL OF
OUR MOTHER FUCKING ROTTEN PATHETIC DEMONIC LIVES, NOTHING EVER WORKS
OUT, AND THE ONE THING WE CANNOT EVER GET OUR HANDS ON IS
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$.
We all know that without $$$$$$$$$, you cannot have anything in this
life other than endless misery.
It may
indeed be no cure all,
and it does not stop all the woes and ills of the world, nor can it
cannot buy true love, or true friends, or good health, BUT
IT MOST DEFINITELY WOULD SOLVE
ALL OF MY ROTTEN FUCKING CUNT SNIFFING PROBLEMS AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT
SQUARED. This
is JUST REALITY SON,
as Mister
Dennis Snyder from up
in Jersey knows fully well, and would most definitely agree with me
on, as he is a true realist, and yes peeps, I
LOVE FUCKING REALISTS!!!!!!!!!
I am sick of people like Mike Patterson and so many others, who
refuse to accept reality
when it goes against their grain or their belief systems. They are
only hurting themselves in the end game and the long run of all
things. My mother and Mike would get along super fucking great. She
was literally the queen of head games and other such silly dog shit.
If it works for them, fine and fucking dandy, as IT MOST CERTAINLY
DOESN'T
WORK FOR ME, YO YO
YO YO YO!!!!!
Hyperspace
is talked about a lot for one great and powerful NON-OZ wizards
reason and one reason only. It
is the key to everything,
and for those like myself who appear to be under some wild
inconceivable curse of infinite bad luck, that can never be halted,
even through Christianity; it is the only voice of reason in a sea of
madness, to quote the
lovely Amy Madigan
from that marvelous movie called, “Field
Of Dreams”! This
short blog is going to touch on some more shit pertaining to this,
and at later points down the road, I will expound further on any new
concepts that may be discussed. First off, David Roth and I had
several talks late in the nineteen-eighties regarding the seeming
inability on our parts, to get to the bottom of finding out just who
or what is carrying out these vicious assaults on us as all things
MUST
HAVE A SOURCE,
even 'spiritual
problems from out there somewhere'.
All things means all things, without mother fucking exception.
He told me that I have no right to shoot at innocent targets just so
I can get at the guilty ones, when it is impossible to ever
rationally separate the wheat from the chafe to quote the great
Jesus. I
am quite sure that people have noticed that I am just not a strong
enough individual to endlessly suffer through this nightmare fucking
cunt HUNTINGTON
CURSE,
and then NOT
STRIKE BACK
AT ALL POSSIBLE
TARGETS.
This is why I may appear to be going after certain groups or people
from time to time on these blogs. I
am not able to do what David Roth wanted me to avoid doing.
When I cannot take any more of this hellish unfathomable mother
fucking shit being done to me day in and day out, and year in and
year out; I will indeed strike out, and lash out; and
I intend to keep right on going,
and EVEN CROSSING OVER SOME
MAJOR
RED LINES
EVENTUALLY, IF THIS SHIT DOES BOT BACK THE SHIT EATING HELL OFF OF
ME, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When
we dream into the hyperspace, where our infinite alternate lives are
existing on a transdimensional plane of unbelievable proportion;
there is the same apparent illusion of separation that exists in any
one given dimension of existence. We appear to perceive a SEPARATION
between ALL TIME and ALL SPACE, when there really is only MIND that
is causing this separation. This same thing also applies quite
naturally, to the separation between these dimensions of alternate
realities where we go, inside of our dreams, as our true soul-entity
of triune beingness. The magic of three is one thing, and yes it is
powerful truth beyond imagination on pales of steroids, BUT folks;
the truth of what we truly are and how it moves us along in this
fifth dimensional hyperspace system is ever larger, and even the
great Bernie's HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE
is impotent here, to attempt to rationally verbalize any of this to
its actual legitimate proportions. We may wish to have a dream where
we are at our favorite place or with someone who we love and want to
be with, but do we go to where this is and DREAM IT IN to our
soul-beingness connectivity? No. Very rarely does anyone successfully
control what we dream, how long we dream it by human rational time
terms, or any other such thing pertaining to our being able to
manipulate the dreaming experience. But I do promise this world that
I fully know that our true-soul-triune-beingness does in fact control
our trips into fifth dimensional hyperspace or where and what WE
DREAM! The real true us does indeed have absolutely full control over
everything, just as much as we can control our bodily movements from
the time we open our eyes up and begin our days until we fall back
into bed, close our eyes, and lose our waking world awareness. Our
five senses control most of our waking day and when we shut them
down, we can separate ourselves from the waking world and we do just
that. But there is that word again, SEPARATE. In truth, mind produces
the illusion of separate broken up areas of space, be it blocks or
rooms or counties or countries or light years of space distance. It
also separates the seconds and the minutes and the hours, and
eventually the years and so on. The
truth is that MIND controls all SEPARATIONS. Separations only exist
because MIND CREATES THEM.
MIND exists and is made alive through a biochemical and electrical
process no where near fully understood by any part of the medical
industry. This mind exists and is powered by blood coursing through
our arteries and veins and then an oxygenation process makes our
brains exist. Still,
the truth here is MIND is now existing PHYSICALLY.
This
mind is now a part of the SPACE-TIME-MIND (STM) system.
Before
Einstein
made us see that space and time is really SPACE-TIME,
the world would laugh just as hard and loud at that as they are doing
with my Morianity's claims of STM.
The TSE or (Towel-Seepage-Effects) of Morianity's hyperspace
mechanics and hyperspace equation, deals with the phenomenon that the
separation in-between the alternate realities is also a mere illusion
that MIND when physically existing, is indeed creating. It is
separating space to create distances, it is separating time to create
a physically workable life where events can both appear to be behind
as well as ahead of some weird unexplainable eternal now, and also,
it is creating the separation of the parallel universes of the fifth
dimensional hyperspace. As I typed this out, Jane Sleazeweedsdisease
just fucking cunt nailed me with that goddamn ass mouse prompt that
places the page eleven of eleven bullshit onto my mother fucking
computer monitor screen. I will need to compensate for that with rows
of fives, yo!
555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
This
will now take me into PAGE TWELVE.
That
rotten witch bitch, to
quote me' ol' 1999 girlfriend, Mizz Helen Zebriski, really “Got
me GOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD”!
The
saddest part of al of this is that somewhere in the absolute truth of
hyperspace-mechanics or (fifth dimensional towel-seepage-effect),
most likely are all of the answers, so that truly innocent fucking
targets need not be continually struck. For example, if Patty
and Merry are
completely innocent in all of thissssssssssssssssssssss, Mizz
AMC-SLEK; then I would not say some of the things that I have said
over the past half decade or more, and let out so many secrets, and
believe me, there are plenty more secrets where those came from,
folks. Lads and lassies; there
also are zillions of other HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE secrets that would most
definitely NOT BE APPRECIATED
should I ever start talking, in numerous other circles of “Scott
Ransom's VERY
POWERFUL
PEOPLE”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Several
nights back, and no, I never mentioned it at the time because I was
suffering through other more pressing and current M2F bullshit on
cunt huffing steroids squared, but I was in
northeast Philadelphia again, only this time, I was right there at
the illustrious and great magical throat specialists office off of
GRANT AVENUE. I won't get into a lot of it right now, but so
much dogshit is really beginning to tie together for me. The problem
is that the Mister Quay Syndrome is going to
kick in unless I can open up a laboratory and somehow legally begin
transfusing myself. Ever since sonny-BUSH was elected, it is
absolutely illegal in this rotten nation to do the things that would
solve many problems, such as social security going bankrupt, elder
care, and zillions of related problems that all stem from people
aging and becoming ill in this land. We won't even touch this dogshit
for now. I am tired and as the old song lyrics go, “I want to go to
bed”!!!!!!!!! Good old eighth grade history teacher at the great
illustrious HTHS (Haddon Township High School)
said something that stayed with me front and fucking center ever
since late in 1967 in his classroom, just down the street from Albert
Pileggi's home, where I met the great future
Congressman Rob Andrews back in the
middle seventies. He said, “Just when
you get old and wise and start getting it all put together,
KAPUT”!!!! This means touched by the non-TV angel from the
nineties, or the other angel, Mister Morty
Mortino. And there is no getting around this powerful truth.
Even if the unthinkable were to happen where I could set up a lab and
begin transfusing blood from still growing young teenagers, into my
body for twenty or thirty years, eventually, all things that are
capable of killing anybody continue to have greater and greater
mathematical odds of happening to us with each passing minute and
millennia for crissake. There is no stopping the statistical reality
of this, as a giant bolder can fall down on anybody at any time, or
Diana can directly strike, or we can be the victim of gun violence,
and on and on and on, car crashes, boat crashes, the list is
absolutely endless, and to quote lovely Elizabeth Montgomery, who
played lovely Samantha Stevens, the witch on that super cool
marvelous sixties television show called, “Bewitched” she said to
her husband Darren regarding what his angry mother in law might do to
him, “The possibilities are endless”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
never ever forget anything. I may block out super unpleasant things,
but eventually, even they return in feverish ghoulish nightmares,
such as on the fifth of October in the year of 2008. I believe the
title of that blog that talked about thissssssssssssssssssssss, Mizz
lovely Erika Kane; is “HOW MANY TIMES MY FRIEND”?
To
quote the mighty shoe-knocker-outer, Sir Chester-Frank here folks,
WEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
ENDlessness
AND END
TRANSMISSION!!!!!!!!
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