AND
NOW I KNOW THAT I KNOW, CHPT. 10
10:47
POST
MERIDIAN
TUESDAY
EVENING
12
NOVEMBER, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
MOUNTAINPEN'S
LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:
TUESDAY,
NOVEMBER 12, 2019
CURRENT
PHASE IS: FULL MOON
N.M.
WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6
WXG7 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6
L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 N.M.
THE
WEATHER IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA:
DATE----------------TIME------------
TEMPERATURE:----
HEAT
INDEX FEELS LIKE TEMP:----
HUMIDITY:----
WINDS:----
PREDICTED
HIGH:----
SKY
CONDITIONS PRESENTLY:----
RAIN
CHANCES TODAY:----
MOUNTAINPEN'S
BLOG STATS UPDATE:
Nov
2,
2019 6:00 PM – Nov
9,
2019 5:00 PM
|
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 FOR
THE PAST 65 YEARS, WITH
MAX-POWER AGAINST ALL PERSONS AND FORCES BEHIND THE
ASSAULT ON ME NOW, NOVEMBER
12, OF 2019;
WITH A MAJOR AIR AND SKY
DEATH SIEGE, ALL DAY LONG AND
INTO THE NIGHT, 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.
I
have come to learn from a trustworthy source, that my browser
has intentionally disabled my e-mail as well as my photograph, and I
am going to call someone for help, as these blogs are too important
to just sit back and let my mother fucking MILITUFORCE
ENEMIES wreck them!
   |
Yes
world, we
all love
FIREFOX,
or most of us do,
and
count me in as one of those MOSTS.
Still, even Firefox as you know, GOT HACKED by these monstrous rotten
evil HALLS FAWCES. 'SOOOOOOOOOOOO' Mister Arthur Crane; “what's to
do”, to quote the Latengrate Actor, Mister Jack Klugman?
Live weather camera images
from:
I
WEELWEE HOPE
THAT YOU ALL ENJOYED READING MORIANITY's PRESENT CHAPTER 000010
OF “AND NOW I KNOW THAT I KNOW”,
AND
PLEASE BELIEVERS
AND L-4
FOLKS,
TRY
AND
HAVE
YOURSELVES
A
VELY
VELY
NICE
DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My blogs
****ON
BLOGGER SINCE JANUARY 2006
****************
PROFILE VIEWS---2840
MARK
WAYNE MOHR © 2006-2014
WHAT
BUMS!
THEY
HACKED OUT MY MOTHER FUCKING LEGALLY PAID FOR PHOTOBUCKET-PHOTO FOR A
THIRD TIME NOW!!!!!!!!!
HE
KNEW IT IN 1965 AND IN 1986, HUH SAL?
*************************************l**********
Week
ending Tuesday afternoon: 11-12-19
Mark
Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr
©
2006-2019, 'BOM' (Blogs
Of Mountainpen)
ANY
PASTED IN POSTS WITH OWNER ©'s ON THEM, ARE THE SOLE PROPERTY OF THE
CLAIMANT, AND WILL BE REMOVED UPON RECEIVING NOTICE TO DO SO.
©
BOM 2006-2015 MARK WAYNE MOHR
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN (the
'BOM')
She
used to say, and I quote; “If you don't like
cats and dogs and kids, there's got to be something wrong with you
somewhere”. I am speaking of the world's great and now sadly
late, disco diva, Mizz Donna Gaines Summer!
Permit me to reevaluate some of me' whittle preconceived notions
here, lovely Boston meat-packer, turned DISCO-QUEEN!
The
great esoteric FARM that was outside of Haddonfield,
New Jersey, & just to the east a wee bit, and also 'TEN
YEARS OFF' INTO THE ANTIMATTER NEGATIVE SPACE,
known as by Mountainpen's Morianity (Photon Projection) since I do
indeed coin many phrases and words, if I do say so me'self, yo.
Robin Hill Apartments
Me'
mother fucking apartment is crawling with a new infestation of cock
roaches, SHERIFF MASCARA, me' kind sir. I wonder if Levy and McGuire
are putting these things in here as they put rats into Jenny
Plageman's #10 trailer while I was living there back in
positive-space (photon memory), in 2005. I purchased four brand new
large RAID cans over at me' Publix Grocery Store today while out on
errands, at my PCP-Doctor, and my Wallgreens Pharmacy, yo, Sheriff!
Yes
I was out on me' ol' local errands today and WOW
did I FALL UNDER A MAJOR
SKY
DEATH
SIEGE
that is still presently ongoing, SHERIFF
'KENNETH J. MASCARA', SIR,
at twenty past eleven tonight, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
yo yo yo!!!! Let's see what me' ol' MAGNETIC-SOUND-MACHINE
(MAGNESONIC)
will do to counterstrike this evil and monstrous mother fucking
MILITUFORCE, yo BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
I went to my doctor and then to the Publix for RAID as well as some
food that should last me throughout the month of November, and then
finally stopped at the Walgreen Pharmacy to pick up a prescription
that I had refilled on orders of Doctor
JAR
as I jokingly refer to him as, since his name is James
A.
Roberts.
Yessir Sheriff, my life is a living burning breathing hot nightmare
endless hell here on this Earth-Planet; me' kind wonderful awesome
sir. I got a phone call late this morning from your office that had
the same opening prompt sound but then just disconnected me after I
kept saying “HELLO”. Maybe this was a subtle covert message that
I was under a real bad goddamn death siege, as this sure proved out
to be; kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There
is a lovely
FULL MOON
shining down on me tonight,
and SHE has been there for me now for several nights, surrounded of
course by those ever dependable MILITUFORCE
CHEMTRAILS
that clutter and ugly
up the skies around me,
and have done so since the very tail end of 1987, while I worked for
the American
Honda Company over at the Mount Laurel, New Jersey Industrial Park,
on Gaither Drive, just off Route 73 and Fellowship Road. WEEEEEEEE!
When
I went to go to the vestibule area on my 6th
floor here at my PH
Building
to view DIANA'S
LOVELY FULL MOON;
I ran into my pal at the end of the hallway, who was going down to
the Community-Room to buy a soda. He had a note that he was reading
that he had just removed from his door, and several notes just like
it were on other doors; and the ones that no notes were on, merely
had people who go in and out all the time, so they already had
retrieved the notes that were at their doors. I however from the time
I was out on me' errands, to the time I came back, and then went out
to view my lovely moon; NEVER
WAS GIVEN A NOTE.
The note was about the THANX-2-GIVENS
dinner,
held annually at Public Housing, either at this Park Terrace
Building, or the other building that is down eight blocks or so away
to the north of me, on 7th
Street, visible outside of me' apartment windows. Obviously Sheriff
sir, I
am hated here, and no one wants me to come to the dinner.
Hey
Sheriff sir, yo, I wasn't planning to anyway, but this just verifies
HOW MUCH I AM HATED ALL OVER EVERYWHERE,
and this is due to the MIND
CONTROLLERS
of the mighty evil wicked BRIGGBASE
MILITUFORCE
'EARTH-CHAPTERED' GROUPATION of demonic fucking
monsters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thisssssssssssssssssssssssss LOVELY ERICA is why my entire life IS
ENDLESS HELL. If they can MIND
CONTROL EVERYONE
to hate my guts;
then employers, landlords, and everything else in life, from romance
to finance; is going to be endlessly ruined and wrecked. And
you bastards out here have absolutely zero-zip-zilch sympathy for me.
I say only thisssssssssssssssssssssssss, lovely
BIG O,
“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”!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Many
times, horrendous fucking nightmares before beginning me' day is the
cause of the rotten ass day, and maybe today was another one of those
shituations. Morianity does indeed add the magical “H” letter to
the word “situation” when it is deemed appropriate by the author,
the Mountainpen yo BRAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was in, or my
double (doppelganger) was, in some horrible weird parallel reality
prison for people who were deemed “not cooperative with society, by
their thoughts”; as it was called over in this horrible place. I
distinctly remember several things. First, prisoners were actually
free to walk around the place, and even walk outside of the place if
they exhibited good behavior over time, so long as they remained
within the limits of the town that this place was in. Another thing
that I remembered was that it was about 100 miles from where I used
to live in Hammonton (Berryville), NJUSAESMWG, and I know this
because in the experience I was told this by someone who I had good
reason to trust was telling it to me straight. Then I remember being
questioned from time to time while in my cell at night, usually by a
female officer, about ridiculous things that made no sense, and most
of the tie I could not even give a good answer, and when I couldn't,
I was smacked hard in the face by her. This was perfectly okay
procedure in this place. I also remember saying, or hearing my double
through me in the interaction, saying something about Atlantic City,
and was told quite harshly, “You'll never be allowed in Atlantic
City again”. I also remember quite vividly being stuck in some
tunnel in this super large prison-place, and after walking down a
long circular stairwell system and into this weird tunnel-hallway, it
just abruptly ended, and then when I turned back to go the way that I
had come from, it was somehow totally blocked off. This was very
scary to say the fucking least. It was a real nightmare on steroids,
SHERIFF, sir, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
told on early blogs during the first two years of the BOM, in 2006
and 2007, all about my organizational Big-Brother, Mister John
Henningsen from Colorado, who I came to believe in my late forties
after much meditation and cogitation on many things from my past as a
boy; was indeed an AGENT
from somewhere in the FEEBS alphabet soup agency system.
Then as the blogs went from 2007
into 2008,
we all remember the wild PIPE
REPAIRMAN-GASME GAMES EXPERT
from out of another wild 'nightmare' that was all fully told and
blogged about, and then along came that great CBS-NETWORK-TV
SHOW
called, “The
Mentalist”,
and this dude
Patrick Jane, was the precise person from my wild nightmare,
that I had nearly a half year or more before
their TV-SHOW ever was created or aired,
and WE
ALL KNOW THESE THINGS,
and it can be TOTALLY
PROVEN AND VERIFIED
by time and date stamps and other official internet bullshit! Let us
now take the word 'CHAIN', since he gave me this wild motorcycle
chain one day for absolutely no logical or discernibly rational
reason. If we take the Federal Agency called the Central Intelligence
Agency and abbreviate it into the (CIA), while viewing the word
“CHAIN”, just what is the LETTER 'C', then the letter 'A', and
then the LETTER 'I'? The letter 'C' is the 1st
letter in the CHAIN-WORD. The letter 'A' is the 3rd
letter in the CHAIN-WORD. The letter 'I' is the 4th
letter in the CHAIN-WORD. This of course is number 134
when we string it together, or if we let it come out in its natural
order in the CHAIN-WORD, it is number 143.
OH
THOSE TWEETING ROBINS!
So
just why did John from
COLOR-RED-JOHN
TV-SHOW-MENTALIST
PIPES GAMES GASME EXPERT NIGHTMARES OF 2007,
really give me that great chain that shortly thereafter, the mighty
awesome PINK
GODDESS SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE
stole from me in a dream, similar to the way it was stolen from that
same wild hyperspace closed in 2007, 38 years in the future from the
first time that it happened to me in
that wild December of 1969 dream,
followed by that WILD
SKY MESSAGE CHEMTRAIL,
YO????? Well, first let us examine how John would take me several
times to a really wild place on City line Avenue in Philadelphia,
right across the street from those many Philadelphia television
studios. This place was a very weird place for a corporate executive
office suite, at least in those days, and in my humble opinion
(IMHO). It had the very same magical 2-WAY mirror system and room
that we all enjoy watching being used by the police detectives on
that greatest LAW TELEVISION SHOW EVER, called, “L&O” that
even went onto surpass PERRY MASON, again, IMHO aniwho, yo! But why
did they have this weird interrogation magic mirror system in a
Campbell's Soup Executive Office Suite? For that matter, why within a
year or so after his return to Colorado, did I end up in Dave Smith's
class at COOLEY HALL where another magic mirror was placed in-between
his classroom and the shrink's office next to it, Mister Jim
Garrigan? Why did I have two magic-mirrors in my life, or let me ask
this one instead? How
many of you, AS A YOUNG TEEN, HAD TWO OF THESE MIRRORS DIRECTLY IN
YOUR LIFE??????????
So let us move this on even still further; shall we peeps out here,
as well as me' marvelous and wonderful and great fantastically and
sensational BLOGAUDIANS???????? Christ Almighty, even my awesome
daughter doesn't have this many wild mirrors or reflections to sing
about, or does she? We can always do a James Rockford Garner
Maverick, and get back to thissssssssssssss, and with or without lots
of loose or busted out teeth, yo yo yo yo BRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Someone
does NAUT like this blog, as I
am getting crash and low level private airplanes flying outside of
me' winder at 24 minutes past midnight,
and this death air assault has gone on around me now SHERIFF,
ALL
DAMN FUCKING CUNT DAY
LONG,
SINCE I WENT TO MY DOCTOR AT 1:30 yesterday afternoon!!!! You
can expect Magnesonic to cause some real nasty HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE
aerial disasters
and crashes for this MAJOR
FUCKING ASS PERSECUTION
AND ELDER
ABUSE,
YO BRO!!!
When
I was living at 134 Norris Avenue of the garage-kicking days of Atco,
NJUSAESMWG; I went to a medical eye appointment, to my doctor, Doctor
M. Morse Michaels, of Narberth, PENNSYLVANIA. His office was just
down the way a wee bit from naut only the lovely shamrocks maitees,
but also from my Aunt and Uncle's house at 1208 Greentree Lane, also
in Narberth, PENNSYLVANIA,
USAESMWG. While
I was out being fitted for contact lenses by this doctor who practiced something that then was known as Orthokeratology, the CIA or the FBI, got a FISA WARRANT, and tapped my telephone. How do I know this tap was on my line, Sheriff, you may ask me sir? Well, because I had equipment that allowed me to know this and even hear them setting up the tap, and guess what? I may have even sent this as a phony-accidental flip side on one of my musical projects, to the U.S. Copyright © Office. I may not have, and don't remember for sure one way or the other. But I had tapes on my LIFE-JOURNAL called PHONE-PROGRAM CASSETTE #'s, and I do not remember the number now, but guess it was in the thirties, as Atco was about 55 tapes long, and was ONLOY telephone conversations, and no actual journal speaking was done off-phone, as came to be the norm as the years went by and my journals continued onward. I heard these two fucking FEEB-DUDES calling my blue car a “NUNGEN” whatever a fucking “nungen” is, and I heard the entire tap work go DownloaderChrome and GO DOWN, oh wonderful great all-knowing terrific SIR MICROSUCKS HELLWRECKER SPELLCHECKER YO YO YO YO!!!! So 'WEEEEEEEEEE' and also 'WEEDEEKAWUSS', huh beautiful KP? Me4' pernt Mister Bunkerqueens is just merely thisssssssssssssss: 134 Norris Avenue in Atco, was naut only where I was chocked to death by mysterious FAWCES that to this day are completely unknown, but it also is where this FEDERAL AGENCY began tapping my telephone, when I was naut a spy nor was I breaking any laws. If I was or had been, I would have been prosecuted, WOULD I NAUT, MIZZ LOVELY AT&T BLAKE, YO? Think about that for a second folks, and SHERIFF! Hey, maybe the mother fucking CIA wanted me to be in touch with these FALLS FAWCES, I mean think about it for a second, yo! First, there was the incident where AGENT JOHN gave me this chain that seemed to attract the Almighty Pink-Goddess to me in the first place, and then comes the tapping of my phone while I lived in CHAIN-134. Please understand this one too peeps. CHAIN and CHOKE begin with the same CHOSEN-HUNTINGTON-CHURCH 'CHCHCHCH' SOUND, am I wrong here, or am I 'WROOOOOOONG', to quote that lovely shampoo commercial girl from 1980 on the television?????????? Hey for all I know there are zillions of code words used by the FEEBS, and nungen might just stand for an old ugly clunker car, as that surely would have been the case, as they mentioned my old blue car, and called it “That blue nungen”! WOW to that one!!!!!!!
I was out being fitted for contact lenses by this doctor who practiced something that then was known as Orthokeratology, the CIA or the FBI, got a FISA WARRANT, and tapped my telephone. How do I know this tap was on my line, Sheriff, you may ask me sir? Well, because I had equipment that allowed me to know this and even hear them setting up the tap, and guess what? I may have even sent this as a phony-accidental flip side on one of my musical projects, to the U.S. Copyright © Office. I may not have, and don't remember for sure one way or the other. But I had tapes on my LIFE-JOURNAL called PHONE-PROGRAM CASSETTE #'s, and I do not remember the number now, but guess it was in the thirties, as Atco was about 55 tapes long, and was ONLOY telephone conversations, and no actual journal speaking was done off-phone, as came to be the norm as the years went by and my journals continued onward. I heard these two fucking FEEB-DUDES calling my blue car a “NUNGEN” whatever a fucking “nungen” is, and I heard the entire tap work go DownloaderChrome and GO DOWN, oh wonderful great all-knowing terrific SIR MICROSUCKS HELLWRECKER SPELLCHECKER YO YO YO YO!!!! So 'WEEEEEEEEEE' and also 'WEEDEEKAWUSS', huh beautiful KP? Me4' pernt Mister Bunkerqueens is just merely thisssssssssssssss: 134 Norris Avenue in Atco, was naut only where I was chocked to death by mysterious FAWCES that to this day are completely unknown, but it also is where this FEDERAL AGENCY began tapping my telephone, when I was naut a spy nor was I breaking any laws. If I was or had been, I would have been prosecuted, WOULD I NAUT, MIZZ LOVELY AT&T BLAKE, YO? Think about that for a second folks, and SHERIFF! Hey, maybe the mother fucking CIA wanted me to be in touch with these FALLS FAWCES, I mean think about it for a second, yo! First, there was the incident where AGENT JOHN gave me this chain that seemed to attract the Almighty Pink-Goddess to me in the first place, and then comes the tapping of my phone while I lived in CHAIN-134. Please understand this one too peeps. CHAIN and CHOKE begin with the same CHOSEN-HUNTINGTON-CHURCH 'CHCHCHCH' SOUND, am I wrong here, or am I 'WROOOOOOONG', to quote that lovely shampoo commercial girl from 1980 on the television?????????? Hey for all I know there are zillions of code words used by the FEEBS, and nungen might just stand for an old ugly clunker car, as that surely would have been the case, as they mentioned my old blue car, and called it “That blue nungen”! WOW to that one!!!!!!!
All
my damn life, it seems that some authority system somewhere, is
always trying to set me up in 'something', and I'll be fucking damned
in hell if I ever live
long
enough to figure it all out, with or without water
everywhere,
good
and bad guys,
or any Earthly motivated GASME-GAMES
of the damn ass GODS of the great PURGATORY!!!!
I
really think that some part of the black file agencies, that
Morianity abbreviates as the 'BFA', is trans-factional, to coin
another new word should the hyphen be removed. There is some part of
the ESS
that is inside of these great covert agencies, all of them; and I do
believe that the vast majority means me no good at all, while a few,
to make the GASME-GAMES of the GODS more endlessly interesting, are
actually on my side; and even silently
and secretly ROOTING ME ON!
Look at it this way. John brings me a chain that this groupation
knows beyond a doubt, will in some weird and unexplainable way,
attract the Almighty
PINK GODDESS to me
in transdimensional-reality. Never forget that it is absolutely in
the interest of national security, that all of man's religious
systems be made a part of everything around us. If the past few years
does NAUT make you all see this fact as clearly as you see your own
hand, you may as well just give up right now, as you're as dead as a
busted automobile tailpipe, yo! I mean as Margie Leo put it so
perfectly at Caldor Store #113 back in November of 1985, “Cut me a
break”. Hey I guess worse shit can be cut! Yuk and 'stinko'!!!!!!!
See, another brand new fucking word, me' BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!
Then
where did I end up before I ran away from Jersey and came here to
fucking Florida ten years ago minus one month? Yes, I was renting a
home with Ann and Dawn King, at 841 Thirteenth Street in Hammonton,
and who owned this home? You got it folks. An agent of the FBI, Agent
Steve Caruso of Austin, Texas, USAESMWG! And let me add in one more
thing. Talent as great as Dick Wolf's folks cannot be just random
chance shit, naut by a damn long-shot. IMHO, based on way too much
irrefutable proof and evidence on countless items, from my life to
lives of many others; Mister Wolf could only know hidden things along
the lines of Gene Roddenberry's warp-drive guy who chocked Spock and
Kirk, if he is indeed a part of the mighty Astral-Plane GROUPATION
from the BRIGGBASE who comes here to this human plane to meet up with
and merge with a bunch of peeps who can do these incredible things
and make these mind blowing fantastic shows. I believe there are
numerous chapters to the Exploratronic Supermind Society, and I also
believe that not everyone has to be a TYPE-3-EXPLORATRON to be in
this groupation. I know one more powerhouse item as well. The mighty
LORD or (SAR) without the gender alteration of the AH/ESS, while here
as the male-Jesus GOD part of HERSELF, said a major thing to his
peeps back there 2000 years ago or so, yo. He said that, “A house
divided against itself cannot stand”. Translating to true
Morianity, it goes, “A house or a system divided by itself MUST
CONVERT. In other words, he said that the square root of the COSMIC
MIND is the PHOTON. Those in the days of your, long ago, would never
be able to see this, as even now, only physicists know what's being
fucking said here. So energy is mass when converted by or with cosmic
mind, and mass is energy when divided by or with cosmic mind. This
information was directly imputed into the brain of a human being by
the name of Albert Einstein. However, photon squared equals cosmic
mind yes, BUTTTTTTTT, the Physical
Plane
of life depends on this great formula in the famous 'A' direction of
the mathematical inverse of this equation, while the Astral Plane of
timeless existence depends on this great formula in its way more
weird and unknown 'B' direction of the mathematical inverse of this
great formula. Since MIND is what brings us this incredible ability
to have SEPARATION, this is why we must no longer see space or time
as space or time or even space-time, but rather as SPACE-TIME-MIND,
(STM), as this is absolute fucking truth, no matter who the shit
eating hell wishes to believe this or NAUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes
BLOGAUDIANS and AAT peeps; the great Mister Einstein was given this
knowledge by direct communication with the COINS/COILS or the
(GODS-ANGELS-ultimate high energy entities) of the ASTRAL-PLANE
(PURGATORY). If he had been given this wisdom and knowledge there, he
would have only paid attention to the part of the inverse equation
that matters there, but rather, he was given this information here in
human-life. So he as well as those around him, only concentrated on
the one side of it. How do these
things all tie together you may wonder about now? Well, for now just
know please folks, THEY DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IPYT.
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, and 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
“SK” 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”.
I promise any of you out there in cyber-village, that if things like
this had happened to you, you too would be blogging away and trying
to get this message out to the Earth-Planet,
as best as a nobody ever is able to emmereffing do, yo!
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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 now yelling out a great big superb,
gargantuan, and extremely “HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE
*WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*”!!!!!!!!!
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”
To
quote the great and illustrious Mister Dennis Snyder of Elm, New
Jersey, “That's
just reality son”!!!!
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!!!!!!!!!!
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.
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 4th 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
“TPB”, just how damn ass fictional really and truly and verily,
is all of this shit, yo? Everything from both 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.
- DAVID CHILDRESS, WHO DISCUSSES THESE MATTERS ON MANY EDUCATIONAL TV CHANNELS
- PROFESSOR MICHIO KAKU OF THE NEW YORK UNIVERSITY (NYU)
- 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?
“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 (Bob McDowell??????????????
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAHA-AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!
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 REALE, 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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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!
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 fucking 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!!!!
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 7th
and the 8th
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 22nd
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's South Atlantic City Rooming-house
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 6th
grade year of school, after James
non-Tinsdale Stoy
Grammar School
wanted me to go there after I attended the 5th
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!!!!!!
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 20th 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!!!!!!
END
TRANSMISSION.
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