NUMDWATATES NOTE A3

NUMDWATATES NOTE A3

6:12 POST MERIDIAN

SUNDAY EVENING

20 OCTOBER, 2019

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 20, 2019

CURRENT PHASE IS: WANING GIBBOUS 7:7

N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 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 N.M.

MOUNTAINPEN'S WEEKLY SECRET SCALES THERMOMETER/BAROMETER:

Week ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-15-19

*****************************************l******

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

© 2006-2019, 'BOM' (Blogs Of Mountainpen)

It is a hot day in Fort Pierce, and what else is damn new around here? It felt around 100 degrees earlier, and this week has been humid again, like late summer time. But my hellishness puts the heat of Florida on an endless back burner, right along with all of my other woe-wiz-me's from the days of Beetlejuices and non Marcucci-Beatles, of non-1969, but rather two decades out into the photon-projected negative space of 1988 where the great and ever mighty FBI placed my problems and complaints on an endless BACK BURNER as well. So WOW-WOW and another HUUUUUUUUUUGE WOW, for two great peeps out here; wonderful and awesome Senator Sanders, as well as lovely and hero worshiped Mizz Winfrey. WO to that one, huh Billy H?

I really do hate the guts of GOD, as all this entity wants to ever do is bless total worthless fucking scum like Don John Trump and his billionaire bastard fiends from DOGTOWN-BRIGGBASE, and curse other nice people who only think of ways to help humanity, and never think in a greedy overtone. If that is what this fucking miserable GOD is all about, fine, screw HER! Want more thoughts on her from me, rock-in roller's out there, from 1997? The hackers are alive and well trying their annoying little cunt chewing tricks. But then peeps, SOSO-WEIN, SSDD??????????? WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW!!

This was CAPPED in from:

BLOG 5 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

Does anything ever fucking change for poor old cock knocking Mister Mountainpen?????????

You only think I have told 'forbidden shit'!!!!!

Peeps and Milituforce enemies, you ain't fucking heard diddly shit nuttin' yet, Mister Albert Jolson!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IPYT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA, MCNY (MCNULTY)!!!!!!!!!! Think of this as Mountainpen's stairway to DOGTOWN, where the light can never be switched on, and teasing Donna can always make fun of my messed up fucking mind, as well as how 'THIS TIME' it really is for real, for REALE, and verily truly accurate, while all the other shit was all just delusions and dreams!!!!!!!!!

Another HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE WOW is in order here, and just for lovely sweet you, Miss Winfrey, “ WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW”!!!!!!!!!

HALL----'OH' TEEN, HUH MISTER HALL FROM YOUNGER DAYS, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAHA???? Between Lenny McKinnon, Patty, and mind-blown Liverpool's Count VON Marcucci, we have the REALE MAGICAL TRIO, do we NAUT AT&T Corporation, and lovely Miss Blake of the Annoyance Caller Bureau????????

[ 26 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204016	1980
[ 27 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Same title.	PAu003037983	2005
[ 28 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Thanx to the shadows.	PAu002237985	1997

[ 29 ]

Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-

You'll Be Crossing Over.

Pau—stolen form

2013

THIS IS A PHONY DUPLICATION, AND BECAUSE THAT LADY STOLE MY COPYRIGHT FORM, I CANNOT EVEN PRINT UP THE PAULA KING REGISTRATION NUMBER!!!!!!!!!

THE TERRORIST GIRL, WAS THE HYPERSPACE DARK SHADOWS PARALLEL WORLD CLEANING LADY!

Not 506 Robin Hill mid-stay, folks; but yes, it is now 5:06 Post Meridian (after-noon). So fucking cunt eating WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Let's stop all this fuckiGN god dam killing each other over silliness; people of Planet Earth. Can't you see that in a few years, this whole world will be worse than fuckign Rikers Island, unless this horrible fuckiGN tide is turned?????? Well, here goes me' poor whittle fucking SPELL-CHECK pwogwam, Mister Elmer Fwudd. Let me boot off and back on, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And yes, all real New Yorkers know that there is a lot more on that island, than just the famous jail, that became three times more famous, after the greatest law show of this world, graced our television presence, called, “L & O”!!!!!

JEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE, PLEASE!!!!

HERE IS WHY THE TIME-PLANE-UFO-EXPLORATRON STRUCK ME, AT MY DOCTOR'S OFFICE; FOLKS. HOPEFULLY, YOU ALL KNOW THIS BY NOW, ALONG WITH MISTER ISLANDER BILLY JOEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AHA-AHA-AHA.

So Mister Governor Kean from 1983 and 1984; if we all are ''perfect together'', maybe my wonderful daughter would like to know if we are fallen angels as well. Oh boy, Mom!!!

To quote Diana, “Waterfalls are so awesome”.

I will take you to lovely waterfalls, endlessly, my precious sweet Diana, just don't ever go away!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh little baby, won't you stay???

Twenty-five lighthouses that strobe.

LIKE HOLY MOLEY HYPER WOW; MACY BUNCH, ATLANTIC CITY, AND ALL HATERS OF MOUNTAINPEN, AND HIS POWERFUL TRUE STORY, E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E, YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!

To this day, I will never know what Lenny McKinnon, the U.S. Copyright Office, and some others, all pulled off; after I went to that music attorney by the name of Malcolm Rosenberg, early in the autumn of 1980, or somewhere around there. I sent the four songs on one open reel tape, at a speed of 7 and one half IPS, on a full track recording, copied onto my RS-1500-US, open reel semi-pro mastering machine, that I bought from the Martin Audio/Video store, in Manhattan, in May of 1980, and was delivered to my apartment by UPS, early in the first week in June, right before my powerful and unfathomable bizarre Lois Foca dream-HIE-RAW! Suddenly Marcy Levy and Robin Gibb, from the famous BEEGEE assholes, had made a song, that was rapidly going into lower numbers, on the Billboard Hot 100 Music Charts, called, “Help Me”, speaking of major fuckiGN symbolism, YO. After I saw the attorney recommended by my arranger, Mister Glenn, the song magically seemed to get pulled off of the air, and was killed cold; but no one ever spoke a word to me about shit, not Howard Solomon, not Lenny McKinnon, not Malcolm Rosenberg. Then came the real kicker of all kickers; Sheriff Mascara, and Attorney General Pam Bondi, of Florida-USA-ESMWG. You can see it for yourselves with the above pasted in U.S. Copyright Office PAU forms, that show a history of my musical copyrights. My 1994 book, The Permission Barrier, is not included since this was not a song; and only goddess knows why the roulette system, from two years before that, in 1992; was included, as that was not a song, but rather, a system for playing 'inside numbers' roulette. Still, I never was given a copyright on the song, and its arrangement, back in 1980. They made sure it was the following year, after the BEEGEE incident, and did not include the name of my arranger on the copyright form. The joke is that in 1977, before this particular internet song-list was used; I had copyrighted the LOST LOVE song. But it was the arrangement that was stolen, and even without the copyright, Tom Glenn, my arranger, was paid in full by me, as work for hire, or whatever they call it. This music and arrangement is all legally owned by me, and is legally my property, whether copyrighted or not; as long as Tom Glenn is available to go to court, and witness this for me someday. Should that ever miraculously happen; then the fucking press will no longer be able to call me a mother fuckiGN crackpot; oh GAP Sheriff, and GAP Mizz Bondi-AG, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SHERIFF KEN MASCARA OF SAINT LUCIE COUNTY:

I TOTALLY LEGALLY HEREBY SWEAR, THE ABOVE PARAGRAPH IS TOTALLY 100% TRUE, THAT I AM THE AUTHOR OF THAT SONG, THAT I PAID FOR THAT ARRANGMENT THAT WAS STOLEN BY THE BEEGEE MUSIC GROUP IN 1980; AND THAT THIS ROTTEN ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY, HAS GONE AFTER ME, AND RUINED MY ENTIRE LIFE; AFTER THIS ALL HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes Donna, it will most definitely be all right in the morning lightHOUSE and in the morning light as well, Mister Wonderful Microsoft Corporation Smartwords!!!!!!!!!!!

CHRIS, ED, AND THE MILITUFORCE BLOGAUD

Pageviews today 71 Pageviews yesterday 184 Pageviews last month 2,347 Pageviews all time history 103,108

Global Audience in a Shade Ratio:

Boy oh boy, my people really do get around, and I am happy to see them all doing whatever it is they do. You know life's a real real funny old dog when you sit down to ponder on stuff, peeps. You're doing your thing and Mountainpen sits here in South Central Eastern Florida, USA, wondering what it all could be about, well, not totally wondering perhaps, but the details will elude me of course, and then I must wonder if these same great travelers, read my words from what may sometimes seem to be further out than they'll ever travel, understanding and comprehending it on levels that they indeed are getting it on, but yet, its totally remaining always a bit like the great butterfly song from decades now long gone by, you know; ELUSIVE. Yeah, just a passing thought, but thought that I'd share it my kind folks. Life really is a silly old dog, and again, three cheers for Mister John Jack McCoy, the Phase-4 District Attorney of New York county, in Manhattan, NYUSAESMWG. You go, Dick WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLF, YO!

GREAT FOLKS OUT HERE, you are now reading CHAPTER 19.

Oh well, wonderful kind lads and lassies all over the place, most 'Earthers' will always insist and proclaim, that Mountainpen is just a total crackpot nut job, and that all of this is nonsense, and garbage. Fine, and I'll still fight and die for their right to say it and believe it, and mock and jeer me; despite tons and tons of posted evidence, that all proves that there has to be something to my Morianity story, from 1995 through almost 2016. After all of these powerful things all went down, and mathematically; it is not possible for this to be all just random occurrences, unless you truly believe that this can be far greater odds than any powerball-lottery-jackpot yet won, ten times over, only someone who would buck and defy odds that stagger the dam imagination, could possibly say that Mountainpen/Morianity, is all a hoax, a lie, and or the product of total quintessential madness and insanity. And yet, alas, just as those same, or some of them, claim to believe is flying ships from beyond our planet, and little alien beings too, and they cleave unto their ideas with clenched fists, ready to take on Washington, DC, or the world; believing some gigantic conspiracy of some powerful group, all know some deep dark truths, and are keeping it from them. Oh well, those same people give poor old little me that same BRICK WALL treatment, huh Mister Boxer McAndrews Hall! Yes sir, I must be in with the fawces, to exactly quote your cool accent; up there in Camden, New Jersey; that is, should you still be amongst us breathers, here in the land of the living. Am I right, gorgeous J. L. Hewett Ghost-buster? So now I hope to hear from any scientifically minded soul who can show me the most miniscule lab-tested evidence for NOT BELIEVING one thing at least, and that would be, that LIFE IS A SILLY OLD DOG!

Well Mizz Wonderful Know-it-all Mizz Mashell RPL Daniels of 1980, “BULLSHIT ON YOU, CUBED, AND CUBAN, AND THEN RE-SQUARED”!!!!!!!!

When the great United States Copyright Office, put the order of my musical projects together, on their web-page; that number 14 and 15, are the numbers corresponding to that love sonnet that I indeed wrote in that year, for my PINK GODDESS, ALMIGHTY JEHOVAH!!!! And in 1969's great summer of love, I was in-between year age numbers 14 and 15, precisely. Clues in the cosmos couldn't get more loud, more visible, more clear, and more in my face, if they literally had picked me up and shaken me until I died of brain fucking ass concussion. There is no denying this Sarah Krassle mess, from the tomb of a risen Jack In Jesus, to the Coral Reefs of great sunny-paradise Florida in 2016!

[ 14 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	PAu002153196	1996
[ 15 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	SRu000332786	1996

I have absolutely nothing to do with the way the United States Copyright Office catalogs the 29 musical projects that I've sent to them over decades of time. After the internet became available to the general public in the early middle nineties, to the point where it was a real entity and used by many folks who grew it to astronomical proportions after that, THEY made up the file on my music, and it is THEIR website. I only copied it to my BOM blogs. In fact, they insist my project number 29 is there, but I have gone up and I am unable to access it. But I have learned that I have no rights or freedoms in this nation, and the rules that apply to everybody mother fuckign else, just don't apply to me. I am not allowed to get involved in MUSIC in any way, shape, or form, not unless I want to be turned inside out, upside down, and assaulted by the Milituforce in covert stealthy ways that go far beyond inconceivable, despicable, and monstrously fuckiGN horrendous. So I don't even try to understand why my copyrighted early July-2013 project, called, “You'll Be Crossing Over/My Youtube Project”, is not available for me to access on the Copyright Office's web-site.

Just discussing this topic, and my computer is beginning to mother fuckiGN act up; my kind lads and lassies, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Public Catalog Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

Happy Turkey Day, YO!!!!!

Thursday, November 26, 2015

And soon, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The great PINK-GODDESS of STAR TREK; gee, just what is going on? How many out here know about my trip in 1972, up to Babylon, New York, to 175 Peninsula Drive, to visit with my mom's cousin, Ruth Huntington Gottwald, at his mansion there? If you don't, you won't be told any details right now,other than I always took a tape recorder with me and was obsessed with tape recorders at that time. How many know how I was taken on a road trip on the second day of my visit, up to the north shores of this great Woodie Guthrie Island, and had an experience that I blocked out of my mind for 36 years, until it resurfaced in a dream on 5 October, in 2008? I, even then after awakening, believed it to be just a dream, until I finally became my own head doctor, and admitted to myself that I witnessed a horrendous event up at my daughter's house!

DECEMBER 9, 2015,

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON AT 12:06,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 78 DEGREES FNHT.

RANGE TODAY-------(H78-/L-66).

RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS 76%, AND IT FEELS LIKE 82.

WIND IS E AT 6, WITH GUSTS TO 11.

TOTAL RAIN TODAY IN CENTI-INCHES---0006.

Today, October 20, 2019, I thought was gonna' be a real doozie-whopper; but the great COSMIC-BI-POLAR MILITUFORCE kicked in, with another Ocean City, New Jersey 'Surpriser-wave' of weirdness, after that big pig slob girl slammed her door again super ass loud, it got quiet until well past five this evening, when suddenly, my upstairs dirthole prickshits began moving their pussy chewing fucking furniture around, making a gods awful racket, SHERIFF sir. WOW THAT!!

There are no absolutes, but David Leigh Smith from Cooley-Hall had some very wonderful advice for me that day after I returned from Ellisberg Circle's weird school of machine-professors. I told on earlier blogs a lot about this place, the Ellisberg Circle that is, not just limiting this discussion to this school that was there. There was mom's boyfriend who took mom and me by car one Saturday afternoon in the autumn of 1969, to several stores there. My mom needed to buy a mirror, and I was told to take it to the car, and given the keys, so I could place it into the back seat, and then either come back and find my mom and her boyfriend Sid, or at my discretion, remain in the car until they completed their shopping task. I chose to do neither, and took the mirror, and used it to almost cause a lot of serious problems, by using it in a manner not intended by its manufacturer, that is, to reflect bright blinding sunlight, directly into the face of drivers. Today, the world of this new age would have seen me in what I call, the Abbey Carmichael Law & Order way, you know, a bad egg, a crazy nutty adolescent who needs to just be locked away, for not conforming and obeying and saying yes sir, no ma'am to every dam adult within my daily interactivity. Hey, I wasn't a really bad ass, but I was quite the imp who could really piss off my mom's sort of nutty boyfriend, Sidney, without, to quote Lenny McKinnon who I would not go onto meet for eleven years, ''any doubt about it''.

Before this time, back in the spring time of 1969, about a half of a year or so, I had become friends, an d not by my choosing, but everything in this life is always my fault and I am the perpetual absolute bad guy in all things, as I shortly thereafter have come to learn; but yes, Brad and I did some things that were bad, and I told about most of it, on these blogs, the first two years of them, in 2006 and 2007. But why I acted out, had something to do with being given this somewhat wild bigger kid, who was fourteen months younger than me, in the body of a seventeen year old, with the physical strength to match, and an eye for the fairer gender, and on I can go here, but won't, since he is not here to produce his side of anything that I might say; but yes, he was a wild customer, and quite a pistol, and a lot more; but he was my pal, and we did become close friends; about as close as any two young teen boys could be, who lived in the same garden type apartment system, of those times and days. But Brad was not the only reason that I began going a bit loco in many various ways, such as acting out with screaming and cursing, and being defiant with parents and authority, abnd feeling life was somehow mistreating me, because shit was happening to me, beginning early in February of that year, and going strong, month after month, in ways that no blog could ever really hope to adequately and properly address and define in terms that would permit normal and average type of people, any ability to identify and or relate to me, from their own personal private young lives. I am speaking of three major things here, that most of you out here know, or think that you all do, to some degree and some extent. These being, the chain and the wild teen girl on Tennessee Avenue of Atlantic City, the train and my suddenly remembering an entire half century or more of a lifetime, where I had grown into a man and an adult, lived a totally failed and fucked up life, and ended up realizing that I had been repeating this loop of nightmares, similar to being literally trapped in a hellish I-Ching Trance, for what would seem to be about six to ten thousand years, give or take, if all strung together. The biggest of all, was the first Saturday in July, just shortly before Brad and his mom, Grace Messenger, moved away, and took up residence in Cherry Hill, in the Stievasent Towers, about two miles or more away from the Haddon Hills Apartments. I do not have a play by play memory of the day it happened and the exact events. It is jumbled broken up nightmarish fragments, just exactly like the inverted digital year to follow, 27 years later, in 1996, when the great exploratron Patty-Paula, got me a second time, and this time, was witnessed to some degree, by a maintenance person at the apartment I was at then, called the Highview Apartments, in Monroe Township, Gloucester County, Williamstown, New Jersey, just down the street from the famous Black Horse Pike, and the Gete's Diner. My Spell-Check has been disabled, so I need to go off and come back on, and fix my typos.

Discussing exploratron-Patty-Paula or EPP for short, is like discussing Sarah Krassle, as with both, this mother and daughter team have extremely unfathomable abilities to do inconceivable and outlandish mystical things, and they do them on a regular basis. If you do not think about someone, yet begin to dream about them on a regular basis, this means that they are thinking about you. I promise you that this is true, but I am speaking in five dimensions, not three. This applies to both of these 'people' and yes, I do single quote the word there, as I do not know just who or what they really truly are. The game that Sarah wants me to play with her, seems to imply that by its very title that she spouted off to me on P. H. Day of 1996, and very interesting symbolic initials too if I may add here; this game seems to be all about indeed guessing who is 'real' and who is 'not real', or who is the guest, which can very easily be interpreted to mean, who has an active dreaming-doppelganger inside of them, hence that would be the 'GUEST' that I will need to 'GUESS', if I am to successfully navigate my way through this physical hellish life and this horrendous HUNTINGTON FAMILY CURSE.

She said to me, back on 7 December, of 1996, just shy of 5 AM, while I was dead asleep and out of this world where my body was laying in my bed, and I was on her great street, in-between the great TRINITY-HOTEL, and the great and powerful monster dirt ball Robert McGuire's Hotel-Bar, and I quote, “Let's play a game boy, called GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS”.

As I said and I ain't ashamed to admit to this truth that was not my fault at all; after 1969 and all of this wild shit, it is beyond amazing that I have any degree of rational fuckiGN sanity remaining. ''But still'', Detective Lenny Briscoe sir; as the great Mister Al Jolson the musical legend said, decades and decades back into time, YO, “You ain't heard nothing yet”!!!

Folks, it's past my dam freaking bedtime by two hours, at 2:36 Ante' Meridian (before noon). It is the ninth day in December now, here in 2015, on a predawn Wednesday morning, here in Fort Pierce, Florida, USA. It is 66 degrees here in town at the local airport, and is predicted to drop to 62. Now take all of that horse shit, and all the horses asses all over the planet as well, and a five dollar bill also, and you can either exchange this for twenty shiny quarters at most banks, or just go to Mickey-D and enjoy a small fries and a burger. Boy oh boy oh boy, Mommy, and Moomy Deaest, and Betty Roaches Dindin Davis!!!

CHRIS, ED, AND THE MILITUFORCE BLOGAUD

END TRANSMISSION.

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA 1971 MIKE MCNY

NUMDWATATES NOTE Z2

10:23 ANTE' MERIDIAN

SATURDAY MORNING

19 OCTOBER, 2019

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 19, 2019

CURRENT PHASE IS: WANING GIBBOUS 6:7

N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 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 N.M.

MOUNTAINPEN'S WEEKLY SECRET SCALES THERMOMETER/BAROMETER:

Week ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-15-19

*****************************************l******

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

© 2006-2019, 'BOM' (Blogs Of Mountainpen)

EXPECT AN EVEN HIGHER STS RATING NEXT WEEK, ON THE 22^nd OF 10-2019.

STS----(Secrets Thermometer Scale)

Yes as a result of this blog today people, the rating will be a minimum of one red star in. If you are not in the mood for, and I will quote the great wonderful President Barack Obama here, a real “doozie-whopper”, well, I have some great advice for you, yo. QUIT READING THIS ONE, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONIC:

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 HORRIFIC 18 AND 19 OCTOBER, OF 2019, WITH MAX-POWER AGAINST ALL PERSONS AND FORCES BEHIND THE ASSAULT ON ME NOW, WITH THESE SUPER NOISY ILLEGAL NABES NEXT DOOR, AND THEIR ROTTEN ILLEGAL CHILDREN, IN UNIT #605, 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.

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

<link href='https://www.blogger.com/dyn-css/authorization.css?targetBlogID=2872360980987997396&amp;zx=76d9d6ca-5432-41c7-a01e-53e908f96a61' rel='stylesheet'/>

© 1983 Mark Wayne Mohr, private electronic-metaphysics program.

These mother fucking noisy total scumbags next door to me have driven me up a wall for two straight days now, and it is only cunt lapping half past ten A.M., on this SECOND STRAIGHT SUPER BOTBAR TIMES TWO DAY, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 19^th of 2019. THEY HAVE SCREAMING ILLEGAL CHILDREN SLAMMING DOORS, AND HOLLERING IN MY HALLWAYS, AND THIS HAS GONE ON NOW, SHERIFF MASCARA, FOR TWO STRAIGHT CUNT EATING DAYS, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! To quote me at Camp Chesapeake in July of both the years 1967 and 1968, to my Camp Counselor, Mister Mack Kaiter, “This, in or out of the Dairy Queen, is totally fucking weedeekawuss”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Beat me up if you want to tall gorgeous Katy!!!!!!!!!!!!

Miss Sleazeweedsdisease Fonda came close, but she failed to STRIKE ME WITH HER GROUPATION OF ONE-NUMBERS, so HA-HA-HA-HA-HA, AND AHA AHA AHA, MIKE 1971 FUCKING MCNULTY, from the illustrious Church Farm Private School, of Exton, Pennsylvania, owned by the Breyers Ice Cream people, the great Schriner's, or however they spell they fucking name, Mike Soft Hellwrecker Spellchecker, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I really do hate the guts of GOD, as all this entity wants to ever do is bless total worthless fucking scum like Don John Trump and his billionaire bastard fiends from DOGTOWN-BRIGGBASE, and curse other nice people who only think of ways to help humanity, and never think in a greedy overtone. If that is what this fucking miserable GOD is all about, fine, screw HER! Want more thoughts on her from me, rock-in roller's out there, from 1997? The hackers are alive and well trying their annoying little cunt chewing tricks. But then peeps, SOSO-WEIN, SSDD?????????????????????

Well people, you may or may not remember the blogs of mine back in cunt huffing early February in 2009, when I took a horrific cock sucking mother fucking motorcycle attack, while driving to my afternoon/evening work-shift at my job as a guard at Cifaloglio, over near Folsom, New Jersey. I had just passed the mother fucking Hammonton, New Jersey Skating Rink, and POW, YO; a huge blotor-motor sickie cycle assault in league with a monstrous airplane assault, greeted me after they burned me with an over-riding control circuit, at the traffic signal just past the rink. The Russians are coming, the Russians are here, Mister mother fucking great Jonathan Winters!!! A major word processing hack just struck me here at Stacey JACK-HACK-ATTACK Lattisaw Township. The spell-checker has been hacked to stop working, Sheriff Ken Mascara, kind sir! They have not yet hit my software I had put in, to (*) out curse words, when I post up to BLOGGER, and the fragile ears of our phony society. Everybody uses fucking fowl language, just like everybody does lots of nasty little things, and it is all kept hushed up and secret. At least I don't believe Leticia Tilley is from 1986 when it is 2009, nor would I enjoy the supposed 'pleasures' of Russian female urination! I removed the '*' soft-W.

Yes folks, deny what you know is true all you want, from dirty disgusting habits, talking dogs, Russian sexual preferences, & my preferences, which indirectly led me to being a little younger than my chronological age since any labber will tell any of you that human saliva is not that different from human blood, and needs not be screened for typing; but rather, just for great looks. Still, the most powerful thing folks deny is the impossible, you know, for lack of better verbal terminology, ''MIRACLES''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If Christ were to come back today, he would be considered to be Mister Blaine or Mister Copperfield. We all remember the great television show, 'Next Generation Star Trek', entitled 'The Devils Due', with that lovely Ardra! I said way back in 1971 that super high technology or 'electronic powers', were what was really going on with all things, even this so-called almighty GOD of ours, AKA Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, and yes, she even fucking spelled out that great last name of hers, in that wild experience she gave me while I was 'sleeping' in December of 1969, you know Mister Childress, the exact time the original Project Bluebook was shut down, and I for one don't mother fucking believe in coincidences, not like this one, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Epitome of Harassment, whatever version, 1995 taped version on cassette sound tapes, internet version of 2006 of our new-age common era, or as Robert Andrews from 1975 said so damn frequently, ''whatever'', gee and weeeeeee! Well, to quote the mother fucking cunt lapping folks on the recent news broadcasts, kind peeps out here; yes sir/mahm, “we're now in the longest running bullish fucking stock market in the history of the Godsdamn thing” (DJIA) Dow Jones Industrial Averages, or the crooked criminals of dirt bag WALL STREET, for a shorter description, who are killing me!

This was CAPPED in from:

BLOG 5 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

Does anything ever fucking change for poor old cock knocking Mister Mountainpen?????????

You only think I have told 'forbidden shit', peeps and Milituforce enemies. You ain't fucking heard diddly shit nuttin' yet, Mister Albert Jolson!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IPYT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

END TRANNY—ROTTEN OL' GRANNY!

NUMDWATATES NOTE Y2

3:19 ANTE' MERIDIAN

SATURDAY MORNING

1 9 OCTOBER, 2019

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 19, 2019

CURRENT PHASE IS: WANING GIBBOUS 6:7

N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 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 N.M.

MOUNTAINPEN'S WEEKLY SECRET SCALES THERMOMETER/BAROMETER:

Week ending Tuesday afternoon: 10-15-19

*****************************************l******

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

© 2006-2019, 'BOM' (Blogs Of Mountainpen)

EXPECT AN EVEN HIGHER STS RATING NEXT WEEK, ON THE 22^nd OF 10-2019.

STS----(Secrets Thermometer Scale)

Yes as a result of this blog today people, the rating will be a minimum of one red star in. If you are not in the mood for, and I will quote the great wonderful President Barack Obama here, a real “doozie-whopper”, well, I have some great advice for you, yo. QUIT READING THIS ONE, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had four straight fairly okay days this week, Monday through Thursday. BUT, and I truly verily fucking mean, “BIG ASS BUTT”, yesterday, FRIDAY, was 'HELEN WHEELS', whoever this DOGTOWNITE MIGHT BE, me awesome BROadcasting BRO's and other BLOGAUDIANS out here, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh yes people, Friday was super major mother fucking hell, and I will be counterstriking with me' trustworthy MAGGIE on this blog, although I admit that lately,I am in doubt of just how damn trustworthy my system is indeed, BRAHHH!!!

Here is what was done to me yesterday; me' wonderful awesome great SHERIFF KEN MASCARA, KIND SIR. I TOOK A MAJOR INCREDIBLE NOISE ASSAULT ALL OVER THE DAMN ASS PLACE, and it was both outside as well as right in here and all around my pitiful pathetic elderly abused apartment, with screaming and shouting, doors slamming all goddessdamn day long; and it was off the scales major with constant continuous ILLEGAL NABES AND THEIR ILLEGAL GUESTS, COUSIN GUESTS, AND THE GODS ONLY KNOW WHO, WHAT, WHERE, and all of that stinking rotten lousy-ass jazz from DOGTOWN ON STEROIDS, YO YO YO YO!!!!

One positive note to the events of this week besides four straight days of the opposite end of my post early eighties off the scale bi-polarized personal magnetics around me in some kind of unfathomable war of endlessly racing ranges of alternation, where things got very quiet and there was absolutely zero persecution on me, and this was my eyeglasses deal worked out for me, as did the bank deal, and whatever the reason for my inability to log onto my account a while back, Sheriff KJM sir, has now been corrected by the wonderful staff of Toronto Dominion Bank, at the great Ohio Avenue and Route 1 intersection branch-store! So as 'Chester'-Frank might put it right about now folks, along with the wonderful and beyond awesome Senator Sanders in a duel effort as well, I'm yelling a great big gargantuan and “HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE *WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*”!!!!!!!!!

Yes folks, I am seemingly back again, after six weeks or so away from it, to wild dreaming-interactions of being at Atlantic City on the beach and in the ocean, or the same thing only in weird more distant types of alternate parallel realities, and many times I am with the same people, who I wouldn't know from Sir Adam Pickabones, should I pass them on the street somewhere yo. I was with that same gorgeous lovely teenager the past two nights that keeps asking me to go out with her, and of course, I am not 65 years old in those realities but about three to four decades younger.

Yes Sheriff KJM sir; I enjoyed watching you last evening on the SLC County-Cable-Channel (#28) in Fort Pierce at Comcast, where I saw you during a career promotions ceremony, where LEO's were being graduated into sergeants and lieutenants. I always enjoy seeing you on TV, and hearing your laugh, as I need al the joy I can find in my miserable life, and you appear to have a very infectious laugh.

Yes everybody, AATS, Sheriff KJM, and any other Blogaudians out here; my goddamn ass life goes way beyond being a mere part of the fictional-Executive-ADA Jack McCoy's, “Silly old dog”. Whether any of you out here choose to ever believe any of my claims and or my stories, of wild unbelievable bullshit cubed; it is all the total absolute truth, so help me Almighty Goddess SSJKK (Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle), the great PINK GODDESS. I hereby swear under full binding legal voluntary oath that what I tell you is the truth with nothing added or deleted, nor exaggerated in any way either. I know precisely and exactly how to eradicate poverty out of this country within three decades if my plan was ever followed to the letter-'T', and I also know how to keep the Social Security Administration (SSA) solvent and forever running and eventually not even needed at all, simply by turning back the biological clocks that all human beings in simple plain cellular truths of microbiology are, even though we cannot visually perceive those cellular truths with the naked eye, and I know that old people can indeed be literally turned younger again and that this has already been done to lab rats in a building where I once worked as a janitor or custodian as it would be called in today's world of political correctness (PC). I also can end boredom, alter the entire world in ways far greater than Mark Zuckerberg did with his almighty Facebook website, and all of the technology exists right now for beginning this incredible thing on an elementary level and it would grow just as did the Facebook phenomenon, eventually making this world a virtual paradise, eliminating the drudgery of a 40-hour work-week, and literally tons of other such stuff too numerous to even think of getting into on a blog. I wouldn't even make the feeble absurd attempt to go on now and try doing nonsense like that. I will state with total truth under this voluntary sworn oath, that all my knowledge is useless and completely meaningless, unless my 2,000 plus year old family curse could be broken, the (HUNTINGTON CURSE). I know however that every bit as much as one person has this gift while another person has that gift, and THIS IS A SCRIPTUAL TAUGHT REALITY FOLKS not made up by the Mountainpen yo, there indeed is someone out here somewhere on this miserable globe of helplessly out of control blue and white snot, who indeed does know how I can break this family curse. I know this truth as sure as I know that I am sitting on a green fucking chair and pounding on little black and white computer keys right now, yo! I would do anything or give anything or sign anything to reach such a deal of exchange with whoever that may be, SO LONG AS IT IS LEGAL OF COURSE, or to quote distant cousin Donald, just so long as it can all be done “LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGALLY”

I won't lie and tell you that I thought back decades and decades ago, that I could have possibly survived this much punishment or that this thing around me would really follow me right to the goddamn day that I will die, and obviously it will. I never believed that I could cut it, naut this much death punishment and endless unrelenting persecution and harassment. But I have survived it, and I am cutting it. The mustard has not been so think so far that I have not been able to keep cutting through it. I may be the most miserable mother fucking retch on the planet, but I am still here, and I am indeed fucking surviving. This leads me to another joke that I thought of, that yes, Lightning would tease me if SHE were in here with me now, and tell me how rotten awful my jokes are, and how my mom only liked them because she is my mom, and Lightning is most probably telling it to me straight up and on the square. So I ask you, what did one very ancient scissors blade ask its twin? Answer, “I wonder just how long we can keep cutting it”. Mike McNulty would chime in right about now should he be here in this apartment, the gods forbid, with his globally famous by now, “Alligator Haters Anonymous”-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!

(SPEAKING OF KEEPING IT ALL LEEEEEEEGAL):

I am going to let the world in on something, but telling you to actually do this, would possibly NAUT BE LEGAL in some areas of the world, with my own country most likely being one of them, as practicing what they would possibly call MEDICINE, without being properly licensed; can indeed land a citizen in jail for years, so I am merely telling you all, that I do this from time to time, and yes; it amplifies the brain's power, and it does allow anyone to develop more and more closely in towards being a full Type-3-Exploratron (T3E). When I was at the Maryland's Camp Chesapeake back in July of both 1967 as well as 1968, with Mister 'Washmymouthoutwithsoapforcussing' Mack Kaiter, my Camp-Counselor, I woke up one morning with my hand inside of a large bowl of water. This was done as a joke or whatever to quote the future Congressman of 1975, but it gave me an idea once I learned some basic chemistry and rudimentary electrical knowledge just from attending normal pre-college school. When I want to control my dreaming-interactions a bit better than I could otherwise normally do upon falling asleep, I take about twenty batteries, place them in a special container of salty water with a special lid that I designed so that my hand could go into it but it would not spill out and into my bed while I would be sleeping. This electrical connection most definitely enhances brainwave activity but I would not suggest doing it too often, as I to this day save this for about three to five times annually when I really do try and learn about something, from the 'other side' of reality. Sometimes I have used this as a dual activity with both the Fascitar as well as several I-Ching trances that I placed myself into over the past nearly four decades now. The time in 1986 that sent me five months into that parallel world where Jimmy Carter told me he knows that I am dead, and upon awakening, my life completely altered forever; was one of these times. However, the I-Ching trance that I went into back on Pearl Harbor (PH) Day of 1996 at the Somerdale Death-House, happened without using this dual-technique so nothing is ever written in stone as I am sure all of you know and have heard before. I want to mention this thing on this blog for reasons that I alone understand, and for now, I need to put a period on this and move along with the final parts to this blog for today, yo folks!!!!

Now I need to refresh the memories of the BLOGAUD for a quick seck here with the story of my 1994 book called, “The Permission Barrier”, Copyrighted © on Halloween Day of 1994, when the official postal time and date stamp was printed on the mailing envelope to the great LOC (Library Of Congress), in Redbank, New Jersey, after I had enjoyed a two hour visit at National Park by the Delaware River, a place that originally inspired me in 1979 to write my also © Copyrighted song, titled, “Long River Blues”! Remember folks, all things have their sources, and this is an extremely important reality to endlessly focus on, realize, and input into all the things that we do in our lives. To quote the great and illustrious Mister Dennis Snyder of Elm, New Jersey, “That's just reality son”!!!! Now there was a local county newspaper that we will call “Voice of Voorhees” and its owner and publisher, who we'll call, Mizz Terri Ruth Jones, and this lady told me that she would help to get my book published once I had completed it and copyrighted it, which I shortly thereafter did just that. I warned her that she needed to get past an area somewhere around the fifth cassette tape, as there were twenty-four total C-90 cassette tapes to this book that I had dictated, long before internet grew anywhere near its present size or before the great AUDIBLE came along, YO! She promised she would, and this was the first of two hurdles. She did NAUT. She got to it and saw only a visceral austere rigid old fashioned preconceived notion that I was some chill-mo, because I had given Lightning's ASTRAL-AGE that she endlessly exists at, as seven years younger than her true eighteen years. Time, existence, all of it, on the Astral-Plane,cannot and I mean it most certainly and definitely CANNOT be related nor equated to anything that the human rational mind can perceive through human logic and reasoning. When she ignored me and I finally went to her office and explained this to her, she agreed to read past the fifth fucking tape, but I already knew then, I could forget getting any assistance from her, as this is simply the way life seems to go for me, and always has, and most obviously and axiomatically, ALWAYS GODDAMN FUCKING WILL ALSO!!!! And sure enough, she read it, loved it, and to quote Russ Thaxton from 1969 with Marucci and myself, I was blowing her 'damn' mind, Senator Bernie Sanders, sir. She said to me that nothing like it existed anywhere and that probably no publisher ever told that to any writer, not with sincerity, and she then originally wanted to help me with it, so long as I let her make a few alterations so that I wouldn't appear to be a child molester, and a few other little insignificant items as well. However, month after month went by in the following year of fucking 1995, and eventually she told me that after twenty years of publishing her “Voice Of Voorhees” weekly newspaper, she had suddenly out of the blue decided to go back to teaching as she had done as a younger woman, and she went back to teach at the high school, right near the library where I had so much difficulty, in the old days of Eddie Himacane when these blogs (BOM) were just beginning in 2006 and 2007. This was located right where Taunton Avenue spurs into Route 73 South, and where four years out in negative space of photon projection (the future), I would be living a few miles down from there at 231 Route 73 South at Guthrie Short's mansion near the cellphone tower, in Blue Anchor, NJUSAESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, poof, just like the Miami professor, and a thousand others involved in my life over the past half fucking century or so, they stab me in the back and just go away, and tell me basicly to go the fuck to DOGTOWN!!!!!!!!! Now lads and lassies and Lab dogs and Labbers, thissssssssssssssssssssssssss all fits into things that are going to be opened up and harped on and interconnected as the following months of my blogs continue to press onward!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was gonna' mother fucking say onward and upward, but in truth, I would really need to say, ONWARD & DOWNWARD, would I NAUT, Miss AT&T BLAKE of 1983??????????? Yessir folks and peeps out here, a minimum of a dozen parts to my wonderful 1994 book, “TPB”, have all been taken, and used, and ripped off; and those marvelous things that I wrote have all gone into other things in the great ENTERTAINMENT WORLD, that my daughter wonders endlessly why I despise and detest so much. Like fucking WOW Miss Winfrey; and many many millions of fucking dollars have been made by many people, while of course the author behind it all, WAS JUST LEFT CRAWLING IN THE DUST WITH ROACHES AND MAGGOTS all over him for his reward and thanx!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As I said, there is indeed a method to my madness here, and things will perfectly all tie together, and IPYT. This is why I needed to lay these foundations before typing out what just might bring my RED ZONE STARS to an ALL TIME RIGHT FIELD HIGH in polarization, by this coming fucking Tuesday.

In my 1994 “TPB” (The Permission Barrier) book, I discussed many things within the confines of a fictional character named Russ Walker, me, who later IMHO went onto create, whether it be directly, or indirectly, through and by way of VIA Halls Fawces; all great garage kicking karate and martial arts moves, with or without wonderful rangers from wonderful southwestern states like TEXAS, and several of these things are all as intertwined as any groupation of ivy branches ever were, in the history of ancient colleges yo; and the main item was how fawces can be located and intentionally used afterwards, in order to hurl things to great unfathomable distances, so that planetoid-colonies could be set up far away from Earth, and then using a cosmic-internet (cosmanet) for lack of naming it any better, my entire life can be rationally explained, at least to some degree, and even ADA RIRTZ said to me, after he was given one of the copies of this book on audio tape, “You're life can't be explained, even with the permission barrier” and this may be an almost quote, but it is very close and more than just a mere paraphrase. The process of warping space was not an idea that Mountainpen invented, but it was something never seriously discussed by the scientific community or any of the now on board to this, astrophysicists. I know this, and no one is going to ever talk me out of things that I absolutely know because it is all as plain as the damn ass nose on my face, and you might say that it is truth that sticks on you like red on blood. If Doctor Coryell made that quotation however, from the great Fairview Institute back in the very early nineteen-eighties, he would have perhaps added it to sticking on you like red on YOUNG and still cellularly growing blood.

Now the great book from 1994 “TPB”, is also part of other powerful interconnected and definitely intertwined other realities. Just as TPB discusses so many incredible things that the BOM does more than a dozen years later into the photon-projection (future), another one is all about the ULTIMATE BI-POLAR MILITUFORCE, that sends my life endlessly crossing back and forth over the LIFE-SCALE so to speak, day to day and year in and year out since Sabrina Collins and all of this ALL BEGAN. Folks, I know for a fact that before August 15, 1986; one out of twelve, on long run averaged out life charts of mine, that I had faithfully been keeping since July of 1982; of my days, showed up as what would come to be labeled by the Mountainpen, as BOTBARS, (very bad days), so bad that they could be rated and charted, even long before the calendar day ended, or the daylight from the following day would begin. Put simply, one out of twelve days were really bad ones, and the other eleven, hey maybe they didn't belong to slutty Kim Kartrashian, but they were passable 'okay' days, naut to get Mister King all wet or resurrected here. Now whoever was 'OZ-CURTAIN' behind the total absolute ruination and wreckage of my education and hence my future-adult life as a resulting factor, WERE THEY JUST MERELY FEELING GUILTY about their participation in this mess, and is then what lead to the magical high school diploma deal that was made to my mother and me, by the COUNTY BOARD OF EDUCATION? OR was there even way way way fucking more wild inconceivable junk that was all cleverly hidden behind all of this nightmare dogshit? Again, this bit about my magical high school diploma from the last blog, is very important along with all the shit on this blog; as THIS IS A MAJOR FOUNDATION THAT IS BEING LAID BY MOUNTAINPEN, before I take us all to HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE new places and concepts. But I will be opening this up as this blog now winds down to its ultimate fucking ass conclusion, yo folks!!!!

You see kind folks, and SHERIFF KEN J. MASCARA SIR; rapped up in all of this entire nightmare story of MOUNTAINPEN'S HUNTINGTON FAMILY CURSE, is: The year 1969, and the shit then regarding ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY, the magical non-Hollister chain, or maybe it was Hollister magic, as who can ever know such great truths, wonderful Librarian of the Congress of 2007, who desperately needed to get rid of that mind crushing “little yellow piece of paper”, Sarah Krassle and HER wild dream, and HER stealing of the chain, and the incredible HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE tri-trail jet chemtrail in early middle December of 1969, that I now refer to as the “CHAIN STEAL, & SK's SKY-MESSAGE”, and the 4^th of July Holiday at Ziggy's Jetty under the C.P., that led to a globally known hit recording, and the other national anti-pollution message that used my voice, with pigs all over the beach on many generations perhaps; huh Patty me' lovely gal?, the 1980 LOIS FOCA song sung to me by this incredible magical goddess, when I was newly residing at 1802 Robin Hill, and finally the 1983 mysterious medical condition where out of the blue I found myself choking to death, and no damn medical person having a clue as to why. This of course followed months of vely vely non-FCC-McDowell mysterious telephone calls, the wild Privecode Machine, invented by the IMMC later to become the InterDigital Corporation, and then all led up to the great magical lab-technician throat specialist's assistant who was instrumental in the great BonJovi project of thirty years of photon projection or up in the future in the year of 2013. Then of course the really big deal was 1986 and the night I died, went to hell, and never ever came back,so then I ask you Jack Klugman sir, and I won't say to you, “What's to do”, but rather, “Where then am I since this sure is naut the place that I left the night before”? I will say however, and naut just to Mister Klugman; that this string of stuff from 1969 through 1986, ending me up at dirtbag Richard Barf Karpf's house of true agony and pain, all has interconnecting tentacles just like a fucking mean octopus grabbing a deep sea diver until he chokes to death along with the Mountainpen in 1983, from lack of oxygen. Also this five month wild excursion into wherever and whatever, at this house of ultra hyper-time agony, at 1931 Route 70 (Marlton Pike), in Cherry Hill, NJUSAESMWG, is indeed naut only connected precisely into itself and all of the each-other items all throughout this nightmare mess on steroids, but even the connections to the world where I seemingly traveled into and stayed for 153 days that seemed to even peak mister Roddenberry's interests, him and his crew of fantastic fiction writers, only just as with “THB”, just how damn ass fictional really and truly and verily, is all of this shit, yo? Everything from noth these worlds has seemingly collided along with the shit that individually does in each one of them on their own very separate levels. Even the mighty super sleuth Sir Sherlock Holmes would not be able to solve this awesome mystery, or would he, Captain Picard sir? Why don't we create another program on your marvelous H-Deck, or better still sir, why don't we tell the damn professor just how fantastic my shit is, so that the damn college can get behind it and make it happen as lovely Irene Cara would say it or sing it so well, back in the flash dancing choke year of 1983? There is nothing at all that my idea cannot do if it just was permitted to begin on a small level, Uncle Heinz Babyblond Gottwald of all great cameras and 1972 Christmas angel years, road trips, and wonderful awesome talented daughters from DOGTOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now, this will lead me into the very final part of this bwog, Mister Elmer Fwudd, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAHA!

My last will and testament:

Sheriff Mascara, I am making you my executor, kind sir, as I have no money to LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGALLY 'carry' out my objectives here, 'no pun intended', but yes, I still bequeath to my daughter, the sea charts, found in my documents envelope, as this is HER HERITAGE, and my father would never have been allowed into certain places in secret areas of certain museums in Europe back in the days of WWll, unless he had some Portuguese roots himself.

This is all that I wish for M.C. To have.

My last will and testament:

Sheriff Mascara, I am making you my executor, kind sir, I will all my worldly goods to the Ancient Astronaut Theorists. Now if there is a main club or society address, this is where this is to be directed. They own my blogs and any and all on-line work since I started this in early January of 2006. Also, all of my copyrights until they run out, are to go to the AATS/AAT. Only a proper understanding someday of my blogs as well as my songs and other stuff that is all copyrighted by me, will life humanity out of the doldrums of present day RELIGIOUS OPPRESSION. I hope someday that the son of the great president, whom I never liked, since he did so much to hurt the poor and oppressed such as myself, but that his son RONNIE REAGAN, who knows what devastating effects that this crap can have on someone, joins up with the AATS, and if he does, I want him to be one of the people in charge of properly examining all of my blogs and all of my copyrighted material.

Anything I have that can be sold for anything can go to burn or bury my physical remains and throw my shell into potters field at any local municipality, currently as of the date on this blog, I reside in Fort Pierce, Florida, absolutely legally.

Now people, if there is no organized groupation for the Ancient Astronaut Theorists, then the following three people, should they agree, have full rights to any and all of my intellectual property, divided in thirds between them, with the desire by me for them to someday soon set up such a club or society with regular meetings, and with the BOM edited as desired, included in their vast and growing knowledge of what is truth and reality, or what is MORIANITY as I label this to be in nomenclature.

1. DAVID CHILDRESS, WHO DISCUSSES THESE MATTERS ON MANY EDUCATIONAL TV CHANNELS
2. PROFESSOR MICHIO KAKU OF THE NEW YORK UNIVERSITY (NYU)
3. AUTHOR OF THE GREAT BOOK AND AAT'ist, 'CHARRIOT OF THE GODS'

This now ends

My last will and testament:

I have done lots of soul searching, and this is how I want things to go. Whether or naut they go the way I want to is somewhere between mother fucking problematical and absolutely pathetic. Gee willagars folks, would you weelwee have a better Twinbay-Desire' attitude than me, should you be facing the endless hellishness that I am?

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END TRANSMISSION.

I am naut an astronomer, so don't ask me why some of the waxing and waning lunar phases seem to vary as much as two days, with some of them being 5 long, 6 long, and 7 long. It seems to have something to do with the exact times that these official phases start on Earth clock time, and of course depending on where we live on the world also. It is along the lines of if Spring Seasons begins at half past ten at night on the nineteenth of March, then it officially starts on the twentieth day. It always varies to some degree and even though things are indeed exact astronomically, they do not all go into each other with absolute mathematical perfection, just as we can approximate 365 and a quarter rotations of the globe for every revolution around the sun, and even then, it is more accurate to say that there are 365.2422 and not 365.2500 days to the Earth-planet's solar year. So yes, I just follow my little one dollar calendar, as to when it lists these four days and phases of NEW MOON, FIRST QUARTER MOON, FULL MOON, and LAST QUARTER MOON. Then on the in-between days while the moon phases are growing or shrinking, called GIBBOUS or CRESCENT moons that are waxing (growing) and waning (shrinking), I count the total of days on the calendar of that particular lunar phase of waxing or waning gibbous or crescent moons. If there are 5 of them, and it is the first of those five days, then that date is exactly 1:5, and should there be 7 of them, and it is the final seventh of those seven days, then that date is exactly 7:7, and so forth, yo! WEEEEEEE!

It is 3:17, and some assholes are yelling out in the hallway, and that is in the MORNING, naut the afternoon. WOW is life wonderful around here, and my life in general, here in this lovely Public Housing building, yo BRAH!

TWB-Featured Cameras

HAPPY HOLLOW TEEN, LOVELY PATTY!

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

© 2006-2019, 'BOM' (Blogs Of Mountainpen)

“JOJO-JOJO-JOJO”, said Callio, or for all I know, it was 'PK', but whoever it was, it was also the very same girl who came over to the Cifaloglio Transfer-Station, after I died in 2005, on the day after Christmas, from that fatal heart attack, and found myself in the great Holy City of David, AKA on the Astral-Plane, Sahasra Dal Kanwal. Many others on the mortal world call it “HEAVEN”, such as around certain fictional non-progressive Iowa cornfields, yo yo yo! WEEEEEEEEEEE to THAT and so vely vely much more, huh BMD?

Lighthouses have an obvious cosmic significance. Many ideas spring into mind unless we have the intellect of a damn dying worm on a fish hook. We think of shining their beacon's to tell the marine vessels out at sea that land is nearby and that danger from low shorelines or rocks is close by. But it also can most certainly stand for many things, even into the spiritual dimensions of reality. I do not doubt that this is why I had that vision after dying at Cifaloglio that early morning at three minutes past five after that noisy machine popped on and shocked my heart into a D-FIB death rhythm. I remember seeing my own body slumped over the steering wheel in my car, and immediately 'willing myself' into the great city of SDK. Without going any further into this for right now, I wish to make other points about how lighthouses truly represent the spiritual dimensions of producing other worldly enlightenment.

I hear so many people tell how light overcomes darkness, and it seems to. We al know that the greatest darkness can be overwhelmed by lighting the smallest candle, let alone activating a wall light switch that turns on hundreds of watts of luminescence that instantly brightens a room and ends the darkness immediately. But what nobody tells you while making this argument, is how enough gravitation can indeed override and overcome the light. Most of us have been taught how gigantic black holes in outer space can indeed be so powerful that even light is unable to escape, hence, they are called BLACK-HOLES for that very reason. I only make this point right now without getting any further into this powerhouse discussion today, to say that nothing is ever as simple as the great Mister John CIA Henningsen used to insist that it was, to me, back when I was a youth in the late nineteen-sixties, with his famous quotation. MIND or 'GRAVITATION', same reality when fully realized or (understood) kind folks; is able to exist and interact inside of virtually unlimited shades of absolute light and absolute darkness or said better perhaps, maximum oneness (AL) to maximum mind (AD). When we are connected to DOGTOWN, MIND is not able to escape the misery of the endless LIGHTSWITCH-NIGHTMARE, that I was permitted to experience as a younger person here in body and alive physically. It is a nightmare where you continue endlessly running for a light-switch in a room and the light never is permitted to come on, and in sheer terror and horror, you realize that you are still in bed and inside of a nightmare so scary that it makes a trillion fucking Halloween's all combined, look like a friendly kids pajama party at the Brady house. So again you say to yourself, I am now awake and I will run out of my bed and across the room and turn on the light-switch. Only AGAIN, it won't go on. So AGAIN you eventually realize that you never really woke up and that you are still inside of this incredible and unfathomably terrifying nightmare, and now YOU REALLY ARE AWAKE, and this time, IT IS REALLY REALO, and all will be all right if you can just either get to the 'morning light', or at least fucking get to the light-switch and turn the damn Senator Sanders light on, yo. ONLY alas yo, it won't go on, AGAIN. Thisssssssssssssss is one tiny piece of the hellishness experienced in wonderful lovely D-O-G-T-O-W-N, yo!!!! Speaking of cunt lapping endless DOGTOWN, guess who just mother fucking GOT ME AGAIN no matter how I endlessly fucking attempt to avoid that horrendous miserable WITCH FROM HELL, Mizz Rottenbeyondwords Sleazeweedsdisease, JANE FONDA. I now need to turd chewing cunt phlegm rape, AKA (COMPENSATE), folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Another absolutely 'peachy' fucking 'neato boss' thing about DOGTOWN, to quote facetious, and somewhat antagonistic and sarcastic, DRY-THROATED FRED GWIN Herman Keepingmewhittlemouthshut non-Twilight-Zone Munster, of all NON 1983 ATCO, NO JOYSEY MYSTERIES; is how we get turned into these creatures with tails and four legs, and given huge powerful noses that are thousands of times more sensitive to smells than human beings, and on top of that, DOGTOWN has millions of powerful extra potent sulfur mines all over the place. So adding this to Mike Jackson's paddle-box, as well as the horrendous frightening torturous pinball machine, and the hard work in the high growth fields, and yes people, the light-switch deal is all we need in that place, to make it so horrible that no damn ass ninety five googal amounts of words ever spoken here, will be able to paint anything close to an accurate picture. Still, fiery lakes of stinking rotten sulfur does do a pretty nice job, and pitchforked devils and skeletons and Halloween on steroids does come somewhat close, but no Sarah Karge on 10-SC Avenue on July 12, 1997, “NO DAMN CIGAR”, sweetie, yo SIS!!!!!!!!!!!!! And here comes that mother fuckign trustworthy (`~HACK), Sheriff sir, and others out here too, yo!!!!!!!!! Hey, what else is new? (SOSO-WEIN-SSDD)?????????????????????????

Well Sheriff Mascara; I know that you have checked up on me and my friends, few as they may be; and you know about Mike, and his brother the real estate investor from Hutchinson Island. Well sir, and other AATS Blogaudians out here, Mike is back in the hospital. His car was never repaired, and he was totally screwed by PAID-OFF (Manny the mechanic) in Hollywood, Florida, to screw him and kill him, as he has serious medical problems and conditions, Sheriff sir, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Miami professor is ignoring me after telling me to send him my fantastic idea that Larry Lee also screwed me with in May of 2018, Sheriff sir, and I know that you also know all about this miscarriage of justice and ORDERS FROM THE FLORIDA STATE LEGISLATURE; as this was first wondered about by me, after his secretary did what she did and said what she said, at the State Farm Office that day, and then was absolutely verified to me, by the NG-ADS dude, who was threatened by the Trump Thug Helen Lovely Daughter Harris FBI Tactics Team, and won't be coming back to my PUBLIC HOUSING BUILDING, with or without my glandular problems and the PH factors, as well as all the other inconceivable POWERHOUSE WOES AND MISERIES!!!!!!! No I absolutely won't confuse the great old nineteen-sixties show, “THE FLINTSTONES” here, with little powerhouse 'BAMBAM', but yes, WAM-WAM or really, WHAM are the two of us getting literally and totally fucking KILLED, poor Mark Mohr and Mike Patterson!

Yes AATS, and any and all other non-AATS BLOGAUDIANS out here; I truly do believe in the Redfield-Synchronicity-Syndrome, and I believe that someone was able to influence the inventor of the original typewriter, to place certain letters the way they are, just for the USE-SUE-TOW-TWO purpose of being able to engage me in their SICKO GASME GAMES of numerous coded poems, rhyming prevarications, and sick prankster joker fun, in an eternal attempt to distract from the horrors of ENDLESSNESS, and the truths of being an 'existor', or a 'PURGATITE', same exact thing, people!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The dirt bag parallel event thing with the Flyers, Phillies, and DJIA Stock Market is all rapped up in this same puke chewing retched game from the darkest parts of stenchy DOGTOWN! That horrible rotten vocalist that advertised for the Flyers team on Pholly-57, with their rotten lousy hickey sports, and so much more, and there is no way in DOGTOWN lovely PH, that these things can all be a 'weedeekawuss ass coeenkeedink', yo!!!!!!!!! Yes that great show starring Sir Bill Bixby, called “The Incredible Hulk” had a great two part episode where the hulk nearly drowned in a really 'huuuuuuuuge' pile of non Senator Sanders quicksand. In this show, I always remembered how David who had zillions of altered surnames that WERE-NAUT-BANNER, said to the young girl that was with him, that if they did not escape the peeps who were chasing them, and without any stairs, cats, or Ziggy-Jetty funny-HA-HA's, “We are two dead people”. I said those same exact words countless times, to Dave Roth. I have said them many times to Mike Patterson. No one will believe me, and we end up indeed, “Two dead people”. I of course am seemingly being endlessly retraced back into this GASME-GAME because I am just too mother fucking important to these ASTRAL-PLANE COINS AND COILS, to not have around on this mortal plane of existence, to play with, torment, torture, and put through mother fucking DOGTOWN, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No matter how hard I fight TO BREAK THE FUCK OUT OF THIS NIGHTMARE ENDLESS HUNTINGTON CURSE, they simply won't cunt chewing let me, and I don't think that this is one bit fair, SENATOR SANDERS, ME' OLD PAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! To quote old Fonty (Detective Fontanna) on the greatest law show ever to be televised ON EARTH, yo, “JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE-LOUIZE”!!!!!!!!

DEAR SHERIFF KENNETH J. MASCARA, SIR:

Yes I suffered through major car damage from some AA female about middle to late twenties in age, driving a black Ford Expedition SUV or Truck, causing a thousand bucks of damage to my vehicle, INTENTIONALLY, and getting completely away with it, as well as two straight weeks of persecution and death harassment that was off EVERY FUCKING CUNT SCALE AND DIAL ON THE LAB, Mike also had his car destroyed as well, and now is BACK IN THE FUCKING HOSPITAL, because of some “SO-CALLED” medical stupidity, where they were not correctly monitoring his medication, that keeps his blood at the correct thickness and consistency, just as what happened to another close person to me, my MOTHER, who went onto suffer an agonizing slow death and eventually died on the fourth afternoon in March in the year of 2000!!!!!!! Can you imagine, when I run away soon, from this nightmare ass county; just what I will BE TELLING PEOPLE, of my FLORIDIAN WONDERFUL DAMN ASS EXPERIENCES, SIR?

My creditors won't stop harassing me, either and I got more harassing phone fucking calls yesterday, Wednesday. They just won't quit, Senator Sanders, because TRUMP won't allow them to stop persecuting me. He knows that I know too much about HIM, and too much about how to fuckign defeat his damn ass casinos, and so does his associate casino thug owners all around this Earth-Planet, Bernie sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If only you can get into that Oval 'damn' Office sir, and throw this maniac monster out of there, AND THEN DIRECTLY INTO JAIL, for all non passers of 'go' Monopoly fans out here!!!!!!! WOW would that be ultimate HEAVEN to see that wicked criminal behind bars for life!!!!

I most definitely do know how to read the FINAL chapters in both the wonderful books that tell so much, in BOTH “PERMISSION BARRIER'S”. The book that I sent to the United States Office of © Copyrights, Library of the Congress, on Halloween Day of 1994, from the Redbank National Park Post Office, in New Jersey, on that afternoon that I spoke on a payphone to the ADA Prosecutor Mister Ron Wirtz Senior; and then the older book from thousands of years ago AKA “JOB” and having nothing whatsoever to do with employment or working for a living, but yes, I can read. I refuse to believe that GOD is cursing me for daring to love HER HOLY SPIRIT so very much. I absolutely fuckign refuse to believe that SATANIC ASS LIE, YO! SO WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE to THAT.

Even great celebrities and powerful politicians cannot seem to accomplish the two things that the Mountainpen in fact has done or can do. One has to do with lovely Mizz Jennifer Washburn and how it wouldn't prove anything, Permission Barriers or NAUT, and the other has to do with pre-employment, at least in the high majority of cases, and this being EDUCATION. Even my own daughter will tell you that nobody else has ever done such a thing, and the real joke here is that I didn't do anything. It just happened all around me back in 1972. A wild magical deal was made with the County of Camden, in Jersey, with their Board of Education, and despite my never attending a real high school anywhere after I went to the HTHS in Westmont, No Joysey for the 7^th and the 8^th grade, I never attended any type of regular schooling system after that. Still a deal was made where I would be given a DIPLOMA from the local area town high school, and for my mailing address at Oaklyn, NJUSAESMWG, at the Dellway Arms Apartments, that was the same school that the great illustrious Michael Landon had recently graduated from before his part in that great western show, Bonanza, as “Little Joe”, and moving on from there to numerous other great shows,my all time fave being, and many others as well, “Highway To Heaven”. The school was across from the Knights Park on West Collings Avenue, and was called West Collingswood High School, WCHS! I never went there, yet to this day, I have my diploma from there. There is not a rock star who was ever offered such a deal, and the great show of the nineties that started at the tail end of the 'Beetlejuice' eighties, called, “FULL HOUSE”, has an actress who will TELL ANY OF YOU OUT HERE, that I am speaking only absolute major powerhouse truths here on this blog. I don't mother fucking care who you are out here, from the president to the POPE, to the Queen of England whose cousin-ancestor chopped off my 22^nd granny's head on the axman's block, Sir DRAKE; no one is allowed to get such a deal, SO WHY WAS THIS THING OFFERED UP TO MY MOTHER, FOR ME, IN 1972? Well, without getting into magical Christmas angels or not so perfect Bruce Pennock, or great FCC future Chairmen, or magical characters from the SELANA DADA South Atlantic City Rooming-houses CLUB of 1974; let me add just one little tiny morsel bit of additional non-weirdo-flash-lamps here for anyone out here to ponder on, up in AD 2267 or so, and in or out of the mighty non-CHINESE I-CHING World Laboratories; and that would be thisssssssssss:!!!!!!!!!! Both the special-ed school on Hopkins Lane that I actually was attending at the time that this wild deal was struck between my mother and the C.C.B.E. (County Board of Ed), and the Princeton, New Jersey nightmare place that I was forced to go to without any proper cause or reason as I was not court ordered to be punished, or any other litigation or adjudication or legal procedure was ever a part of my suddenly going to that horrible place for my 6^th grade year of school, after James non-Tinsdale Stoy Grammar School wanted me to go there after I attended the 5^th grade there; but both of these places, the Princeton's New Jersey Neuro Psychiatric Institute or (NJNPI), as well as the Cooley Hall's Bancroft School of Haddonfield, vanished suddenly; about ONE YEAR OR SO AFTER MOUNTAINPEN BEGAN TO BLOG OUT TO THE WORLD, and someone somewhere knew that all odds were that I WOULD INDEED BE TELLING MY STORY TO ANYONE WILLING TO READ AND LISTEN THE FUCK TO IT, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!! Hey Sheriff Mascara, me' kind awesome sir, would I dare to lie to you and the CJS about all of these quintessentially WILD and totally UNFATHOMABLE things, sir??????? Come on, please, give me a damn break!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also Sheriff KJM kind sir; I am most certainly and definitely NAUT buying into my seemingly suddenly becoming thrust into a world and a society that is so polarized to its very epitome. I speak of political items, yes, but also, I speak of the entire world around me as well. Everything may in fact be political, but not every issue is 'R' and 'D' or at least to the point where it cannot be separated and isolated in some rational way if for nothing other that recognizing that we all are human beings and living on this fragile little world that could be blown to smithereens in a flash should we suddenly be caught in the way of a magnatar that went off in deep space a million years ago. On top of that, my entire family has bipolar issues. I may or may not have told the story to these blogs about my days right shy of the Kennedy assassination, while residing in Philadelphia and attending the City Center Grammar School at 20^th and Chestnut Streets. My mom and her sister who was my Aunt Barbara, were all going to go the Rittenhouse Square Park nearby on the following day and make a real happy day out of it. My Aunt had major psych issues and today would be considered to be diagnosed as extremely bi-polar with numerous side psych features. Anyway she was so happy, and so was I, as I wanted the family happy and together, as what did I know about fucking life as a nine year old rug rat for crissake. We were planning to go there and make a day of it, and I used to enjoy getting the 'lemon-sticks' as they called them, basically a candy-cane sort of thing that had a hollowed out area that was then stuck into a lemon, tasting like lemonade only much better. When my mom and I got to my grandmother's apartment the following day however, and for absolutely no rational rhyme or reason; her other daughter who was my opera-singer Aunt Nutcase Barbara, was underneath the bed, rolling around, and crying and screaming out things like, “The world is against me, everybody hates me”, and all sorts of jazz along those lines, and needless to say, the family excursion over to the park WAS CANCELLED. Please don't get me started, but me' ol' damn ass pernt, Mister Bunkerqueens yo, is that everything seems to have gone absolutely and totally BI-POLAR. It seems that what began to take off after Ron Reagan came to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, has risen to levels of unmeasurable and beyond dangerous bi-polar end-times sociological absurdity, flying down a one-way boulevard at the speed of warp-drive. I do not know what is truly behind all of these things, but I am not buying that this is all just randomly fucking occurring around me and for that matter, around ALL OF US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So since it is happening, who then is behind this shit? Well, who for that matter is behind what happened to me on August 15, 1986, when I went to bed and woke up the next day INTO SOME UNRECOGNIZALBE BRAND NEW WORLD OF ENDLESSLY CURSED HELLFIRE? Of course there is an answer, and this answer is that the source to what is behind these wild fucking OZ-CURTAINS, comes from the COINS AND COILS of the Astral Plane of existence, AKA the PURGATORY!!!!!!

The Continuation of the 'Epitome of Harassment'

Sunday, September 15, 2013

EPILOGUE OF PART 5

MY CIVIL AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, MY FIRST AMENDED CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHTS ARE IN MAJOR JEOPARDY, AMERICAN CIVIL LIBERTIES UNION. WHY WON'T YOU HELP ME?

FOLKS, CLICK ONTO THE SECOND TO THE LAST BLOG WHERE I PROVE TO YOU THAT BY CLICKING ONTO THE DOW JONES CHARTS ''ONE MONTH'' SHOWN AS '1 m' YOU CAN SEE HOW THE ATTACK ON ME IS TOTALLY REFLECTIVE WITH THE REALITY OF THE ACTIVITIES AND TRADES ON WALL STREET. IT BOTTOMED OUT RIGHT AS THEY POURED ON THIS MAJOR INTENSE DEATH SIEGE FOR MANY MANY DAYS, AFTER IT GOT SO BAD, ALL 1983 WILD TUNES NOTWITHSTANDING, U.S. COPYRIGHT OFFICE.

SO I WAS JUST UP ON THAT BLOG, AND THE CHARTS HAVE BEEN DEACTIVATED BY SOMEONE, OBVIOUSLY BY THE WALL STREET FRIEND AND PARTNER, MICROSOFT-BLOGGER, THEMSELVES. YET IF YOU GO INTO MY OWN DOCUMENTS, THE CHARTS WILL STILL SHOW UP WHEN YOU LOOK BACK TO THOSE DOCUMENTS.

THEY WILL KILL FUCKING ME, WORLD COURT AT THE HAGUE, BEFORE THEY'LL ALLOW ME TO PRIVE THE CRIME AGAINST MY PERSONAL PART OF HUMANITY, FOR 30 YHEARS, WITH THIS NIGHTMARE PERSECUTION TO KEEP THEIR FIXED AND DISEASED ECONOMY RUNNING ENDLESSLY BULLISH AND STRONG. THIS IS TOTAL CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR, AND NOW MICROSOFT HAS BECOME MOTHER FUCKING COMPLICID IN IT, AND WHEN I EVENTUALLY AM ABLE TO SECURE ME AN ATTORNEY TO FIGHT ALL THIS AND SUE FOR 50 BILLION SMACKS SOMEDAY, THIS PLAYS RIGHT INTO MY FUCKING CUNT LAPPING HANDS.

THANKS FOR BEING MORE PART OF THE PROBLEM THAN THE SOLUTION, MIZZ BONDI, FLORIDA AG. ANYONE WHO KNOWS SOMEONE IS IN BIG TROUBLE AND STANDS IDLY BY WHILE EVIL PERSISTS AND GROWS, IS AN ENCORAGER OF SOCIOLOGICAL CANCER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU SEE, FBI, THEY HAVE TAKEN MY RIGHTS TO PROVE MY VITIMIZATION OF THEIR CRIMES, AND VIOLATED THEM, NO MORE BEING ALLOWED TO SHOW MARKET CHARTS, SO ANY REAL SYMATHIZER, CAN GET TO A DOW JONES CHART, AND CLICK ONTO A ONE MONTH CHART, PROVING WHAT THESE FUCKING PRICKS HAVE DONE TO ME SINCE 1986 NOW, THE ENTIRE RUINATION OF A HUMAN LIFE.

• 1d
• 5d
• 1m  -----------------JUST CLICK ON THIS BULLET HERE, FOLKS.
• 3m
• 6m
• 1y
• 2y
• 5y
• max

customize chart NOW KEEP READING, AND FOLLOW THESE EXACT INSTRUCTIONS.

		2.00%
MRK	45.95	1.01%
XOM	90.14	0.98%
BAC	13.02	0.85%
DIS	67.20	0.79%
JNJ	85.76	0.72%

» More Index Components

NOW HERE IS ALL YOU HAVE TO DO FOLKS. CLICK BELOW ON THE WORD ''DOW'', IT IS IN blue font, just to the left of a GREEN ARROW POINTING UPWARD.

Now, simply click on the bullet area after the DOW JONES CHART comes up, that will show you a one month chart, it shows this as ''1m''.

 Dow  0.24% Nasdaq  0.80%

Dow Jones Industrial Average (^DJI)

Posted by mark wayne mohr at 1:08 PM No comments:

Labels: AMITTYVILLE FATES, BEING SLOWLY COVERTLY MURDERED, CROOKED SEC, ILLEGAL ACTIVITY, PARALLEL EVENT, UNFAIR BUSINESS PRACTICES, Wall Street

GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 124 This is six straight weeks of this being mother fucking fucked with so major with no let up at all, ZILCHO NADANIO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A fire alarm woke me up around twenty five minutes shy of nine this dirt bag MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING. When I returned to sleep, I found myself in a parallel universe where Trump was just elected the President of this nation by an eight percent defeat over the Democratic Candidate. I have no memory who that was, but it was a nightmare beyond all nightmares. As soon as he was elected, he said on national and global media and television, now I have all the power and I am going to totally wipe out my distant cousin Mark Wayne Mohr, he will be dead before the end of my first day in office. I was in this large parking lot of some large store that I am clueless here in my waking world to where this was. I was with some people and horrible things began happening. It was the most horrible mother fuckiGN nightmare I have had in a very long time. I'd rather be back in August of 1967 with the Quoddy Mocker Gang Rapers and Paula king telling me she would throw me off the Trinidad Hotel balcony if I ever told anyone what had happened while they had sent my mom up to the Frailenger's Store for some coffee. Oh Paula, you rock you great big giant lovely girl goddess you!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nothing ever changes for me, Sheriff Mascara, sir!!! Yeah you can run me down in your powerful car great Paula Joyce King, and Art Crane too, and then we'll be crossing over, to quote me in 1984 in Cinnaminson, New Jersey, while talking to Professor Theodore Jackson at parallel universe Florida State College. [ 29 ] Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954- You'll Be Crossing Over. Pau—stolen form 2013 [ 5 ] Mohr, Mark W., 1954- Lost love. PAu000344219 1981 Tell the truth about it all; oh great Library Of Congress! High school musicals, and James Stoy Leslie Tinsdale, can lookout for me as I blow on down the line; trucker Bob Bad Back Levy 187, and all other fantastic Atlantic County addresses; huh record company giant JOYCE-PAULA-1978? Save, Print and Email (Help Page) Records Select Format: Full Record Report 1 Latin1 MARC All on Page Selected On Page Selected all Pages Enter your email address: Search for: Search by: Title (omit initial article A, An, The, El, La, Das etc.) Name (Crichton Michael; Walt Disney Company) Keyword Registration Number (for VAu 598-675 type vau000598675) Document Number (for V2606 P87 type v2606p087) Command Keyword Item type: None Recorded Documents Text Serials Music Maps Sound Recordings Computer Files Motion Pictures Visual Materials Kits Mask Works Deposit only monographs Deposit only serials Cancelled Registrations 10 records per page 25 records per page 50 records per page 100 records per page My life is not exactly Jekyll and Hyde!!! My life is not exactly Jekyll and Hyde!!! My life is not exactly Jekyll and Hyde!!! My life is not exactly Jekyll and Hyde!!! My life is not exactly Jekyll and Hyde!!! My life is not exactly Jekyll and Hyde!!! “Ziggy, Ziggy hello”! “Ziggy, Ziggy hello”! “Ziggy, Ziggy hello”! “Ziggy, Ziggy hello”! “Ziggy, Ziggy hello”! MY SPELL CHECKER HAS BEEN HACKED OUT, FCC! MY SPELL CHECKER HAS BEEN HACKED OUT, FCC! MY SPELL CHECKER HAS BEEN HACKED OUT, FCC! MY SPELL CHECKER HAS BEEN HACKED OUT, FCC! MY SPELL CHECKER HAS BEEN HACKED OUT, FCC! MY SPELL CHECKER HAS BEEN HACKED OUT, FCC! SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD SOSO-WEIN-SSDD

YES FOLKS, ALWAYS TRY AND BE A HERO, AND THEN JUST BE SATISFIED TO BE A SURVIVOR. UNDER NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES, HAVING THE ABILITY TO SUCCEED IS ALWAYS TRUMPED BY HAVING THE HUMILITY TO KINDLY ACCEPT FAILURE, AND THEN THE WILLINGNESS TO LEARN FROM WHAT WENT WRONG.

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Thank you folks, and have a very nice day, something the MILITUFORCE will never let me do, am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

am I correct WPIX-TV-1988, AGENTS FALCON AND CONDOR?

??????????????????????????????????????

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[ 26 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.	PAu000204016	1980
[ 27 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Same title.	PAu003037983	2005
[ 28 ]	Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-	Thanx to the shadows.	PAu002237985	1997

[ 29 ]

Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-

You'll Be Crossing Over.

Pau—stolen form

2013

Yes sir Dad; your grand son in law and you have some real great Patty Parsons bright ideas about where to work. Here are 25 more reasons for me never to drop fucking acid back in the dam sixties, or up either either, Dock Hoffman, YO!

THE END, CUT LITTLE TIME ALTERED SAVANTS FROM HELL!!!

Boy oh boy oh boy, Uncle Billy. Tell me this is NAUT DOGTOWN on the fucking EARTH PLT?

END TRANSMISSION.

THE WORLD IS A VERY AMAZING PLACE.

THE WORLD IS A VERY AMAZING PLACE.

THE WORLD IS A VERY AMAZING PLACE.

THE WORLD IS A VERY AMAZING PLACE.

THE WORLD IS A VERY AMAZING PLACE.

THE WORLD IS A VERY AMAZING PLACE.

THE WORLD IS A VERY AMAZING PLACE.

Now why exactly, Sarah Callio Martino, somewhere in hyperspace; trapped me in a lighthouse, and yelled my name out, over and over, 'JoJo-JoJo; I will never totally know. So let me widen the scope of the topic, so we can see this in a larger blend of bigger pictures, and out of one tiny confined box; great ladies and gentlemen. If you don't want your mind to be totally damn blown all the way from your place where you're reading this, all the way to Liverpool's mighty and illustrious Count Von-vam-Marcucci's other 1969 secret classrooms of ultimate mystery; then pweeeeeeze 'stop' reading this blog right now, great folks!

{S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P}

{S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P}

{S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P}

{S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P}

{S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P}

{S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P}

{S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P}

{S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P} {S-T-O-P}

“Okay”, Mister John 'Happy-J' King, and everybody else out here; now you have been warned, LEGALLY, morally, and 'spiritually' even. So when this is all done, and you have absorbed even a tiny sum of this; please expect some vely intelesting situations to occur in your own lives that you will, believe it or naut, absolutely see major connections within all of your own lives. IPYT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

'WHAAAAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA'; MCNULTY!!!!