AND
NOW I KNOW THAT I KNOW, CHAPTER
33
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.
6:01
ANTE'
MERIDIAN
FRIDAY
MORNING
6
DECEMBER, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
12-06-2019
MOUNTAINPEN'S
LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:
TUESDAY,
NOVEMBER 26, 2019
CURRENT
PHASE IS: WAXING GIBBOUS 2:7
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.
Yesterday
was a HUUUUUUUUUUGE MAJOR OTAMMIC MILITUFORCE DEATH SIEGE. I TOOK IT
FROM BOTH FRONTS, air as well as ground. Let me explain
this all to you in a little bit better clarity, and then move onto
the really wild somewhat new topic that the BOM has touched on in
recent times, that being, this moving polarized universe and my
interaction within it. YYYYYY do these major attacks COME and then
GO, and then COME and then GO??????? This is how things get every
once in a while, the great double
strike of the MILITUFORCE, where I am naut only struck hard in the
air with persecution that usually also causes me health issues with
their mother fucking sky poisons, but also simultaneously ON THE
GROUND as well folks. As I type these words at 6:09 this
MOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURNING, SHERIFF SIR, they're striking me with
their super fucking annoying (SPACE-BAR “NON SPACEFORCE MICROSOFT
SPELLCHECKER” COMPUTER HACK). Allow me please to go on a bit and
REEEEEEEEEEEEEALLY open up a 'HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE' BLOG,
not in volume length, but rather in quality-content!!!!
This just lays a foundation
AND
NOTHING MORE, NOT FOR TODAY, YO!!!
WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-195---LOVELY
O.W.
This
blog will be about the United States COPYRIGHT
OFFICE as well as “THAT FAMILY” as I
called them back in the year of 1970, because in 'wild
washcloth dissected nightmares from DOGTOWN itself', “THEY”
called themselves that, and were able to telepathically
transmit this awareness to this fact, directly to my mind, or
said simpler, as with the beach alchemist and the LAW OF 1, I just
somehow was given this knowledge while with these folks, without a
word ever being spoken nor any type of human vibratory language ever
used. This blog will get into some very mother fucking private parts
to my very private hell, shit that I never thought I'd openly impart
to a single fucking cunt soul on this or ANY BLOG, but after the
previous several days and especially the past two of them, December 4
and 5; and to quote the great awesome TV-Character-Persona from the
great 60's soap show of the macabre, “Dark Shadows”, “YOU LEAVE
ME NO CHOICE”, whoever YOU are that is perpetrating this inhuman
monstrous evil and unfathomable wickedness on an innocent fragile
aging human being who wouldn't deserve this even if I was a mass
murdering Hitler lover, and I AM NAUT!!!!!
When
I moved into the 'farm outside of Haddonfield',
that literally destroyed me and who I had been, a decade earlier back
in Haddonfield's COOLEY HALL, and JUST AS FORETOLD BY ME THEN, NINE
AND A HALF YEARS BEFORE EVER MOVING THERE INTO
APARTMENT #1802; a series of inconceivable circumstances were
set into play. Only by looking back in that marvelous hindsight way,
that mere mortals can do, while never seemingly being able to prophet
ahead of time, by way of using that luxury of seeing the bigger
picture while stuck inside one of the frames (seeing the forest from
the trees if you will, yo); can I fully realize
just what HALLS FUCKING FAWCES have truly accomplished and
DONE TO ME, IN SOME SATANIC PLAN THAT RIVALS THE STAR WARS MOVIES TEN
TIMES MOTHER FUCKING OVER ANY DAY OF THE WEEK AND TWICE ON SUNDAY! Oh
how I used to play that first
tape of the Morianity
Bible so goddamn ass
relentlessly during horrendous fucking times of MILITUFORCE
DEATH SIEGE, in my car
while traveling to and from security guard job locations. The
billionaire WOMO know everything I ever do
and have me under continual surveillance, and the prosecutor Wirtz
told me and I quote him from a phone conversation I had with him
while renting my home in Gibbsboro, late in the year 1991, “Mark,
they have buddies in the military who will do things for them when
needed, it's all really no big trick what they covertly do to you”.
Still, how
I would make fun of Marcucci and his Abbey Road deal,
over and over while driving, and being under super monster-ass death
assaults; and playing that tape that always made me sing those lyrics
and those silly vocal sounds, and then intentionally mispronouncing
certain words or altering them completely, such as 'kike
bowel' instead of 'right now', or 'blow her meat' rather than 'over
me'. Believe it or
naut, if I could naut have done this to keep me going on those long
horrendous mother fucking car rides under inconceivably horrendous
death assaults all over me; I WOULD NAUT HAVE EVER SURVIVED TO DO
THIS INTERNET VERSION OF MY EPITOME
OF HARASSMENT KNOWN AS
MORIANITY
BIBLE FOR THE 3rd
MILLENNIUM! But
let us get on with the present blog and tieing in the monstrous
washcloth clan from Dogtown, the U.S. © Office, and all the rest of
this hellishness that the Mountainpen is suffering through day and
night forever and ever, into a really powerhouse fucking foundation
so that future blog texts can then continue marching down this wild
road and get into some beyond major fucking shit that will go down in
history eventually as the greatest story ever told amplified by
present day connections into it, or said another way and perhaps a
lot better way, Morianity for the third millennium, and the real
story of the Huntington's, their ancestors Joseph, Mary, and Jesus,
and this entire thing without any editing or Catholic fucking Canons,
or any cannons for that matter, loud ass ones or just “monster-ass”
ones, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!
First,
in the summer of 1970, as we all know folks, I stayed from the 24th
of June through the 12th
of July, on Cornwall Avenue in Ventnor, New Jersey, the town just to
the south of Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG, in a home owned by
a property rich as he called himself, real estate investor by the
name of Mister Tom Reale, who sexually molested and abused me and
only wanted me as a victim and NAUT as a plumber's assistant, or to
quote the latengrate Sir David Roth of the middle nineteen-eighties,
“The only plumbing that he was interested in, was MINE” and
yes, Sir Microsoft, Washburn's
was or whatever, it
all connects up in way more than just printed letters, but also in
geographical
fucking locations.
Again with the three cheers for that wonderful globally misunderstood
and super fucking highly underrated JRSS (James Redfield's
Synchronicity Syndrome” for crying out loud! And looking back now
at all of this, I wish that I had leaped right over your
never-trumped 'great structure' there on Providence Avenue in South
Atlantic City that day, after you said to me, “What would it prove
if I did this”? JEEEEEEEEEEEZ-LOUIZE for crissake, great Detective
Joe L&O Fontana, sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, I do
suppose that would have had added some spice to one of his great new
TV shows on the mysterious things that happen on this wovwee
Earth-Pwanet, huh folks? So anywho, let us move on with the subject
and topic of this blog, shall we yo?????????????
THIS
ETERNAL DOGTOWNITE,
AND
THIS HUMAN-HYBRID, WITH THE
Blood
type--A
neg. & Eye
color--green-hazel
IS
SAYING THIS TO YOU:
With
no help from Disney, nor any goddamn thrills, or joys, of fifth grade
classmates named Deborah T.
LET
US MOVE ON AND CONTINUE TO LAY DOWN OUR FOUNDATION NOW!
Speaking
of the great and non-OZ powerful awesome and quite illustrious, when
naut in bed with, or making deals, with gargantuan musical artists,
such as the BEEGEE
Music Group in 1980;
United
States Copyright Office,
of the real and true
swamplands of Washburn's WASHINGTON
non Mike Soft District of Columbia, 13-600;
and or any connected secret museums out there somewhere, huh Roy ol'
pal; as soon as I had moved into this 'FARM
OUTSIDE OF HADDONFIELD'
as I
telepathically heard those exact words
and then spoke them very prophetically several times, to the
illustrious educator/mathematician named Sir David Leigh Smith of the
COOLEY-HALL; it all went into motion in some cosmic chess game the
size of a fucking galaxy. In no time at all, KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL
was all a part in this mix of hellish fragmented jumbled up puzzle
pieces spat directly out of the mouth of the devil itself. Within a
couple of weeks or so, I was GIVEN THIS WILD DREAM where Paula King
or some unknown Atlantic City GODDESS who I have come to call the
(Pink Goddess Scylla Jehovah of Sahasra Dal Kanwal); totalling
blowing the minds of the Eck masters as well as the late Sir Marcucci
on or under all roads or train tunnels of the great Mother England
and its great 'other' QUEEN may I add; I meanreally, we have to keep
James Bond happy or he and the American Milituforce will really let
me fucking have it; but still, along came that wild vivid dreaming
interaction and that UNFATHOMABLE 'LOVE
IS FOR CARPENTERS'
SONG (LOIS
FOCA) as I've
shortened it into on these BOM (Blogs Of Mountainpen). And here
comes the expected MOUSE-JUMPING HACK (H1),
right on schedule, SHERIFF
KEN MASCARA, SIR, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And here comes the mother fucking also quite reliable and dependable
other famous hack, the (`~HACK) (H2),
SHERIFF SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And
another fucking MOUSE-JUMP-HACK, (H3)
Sheriff sir, all these hacks, three
total now, between 7:03 and 7:05
this cunt chewing morning sir, and you wonder why I curse and swear
so horrendously and often? Well sir, you try living my intense and
hellish life on Dogtown-steroids, for one month, and hey, let me see
how you would begin to perform. I
had many people almost LOSE THEIR MOTHER FUCKING MINDS trying to deal
with my wild and unfathomable shituation
or in attempting to assist me or to prove me wrong, and it led to
them almost losing it, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hey as my daughter's wild
movie from a decade back, said in that scene with the bugs in the
school, or the discussion of certain very unpleasant things shall we
'just say', “I'm
just saying”!!!!!!!
So
folks, the Copyright Office has played two major parts without even
getting into some future other parts that once this foundation has
been properly laid and addressed, we can further delve deeper into.
The BEEGEE's and their complicit willingness to side with power and
against the small fry nobody music amateur, me. Then the deal where
as soon as
I sent that demo,
along came the Atlantic
City wild dream with
the LOIS
FOCA SONG, and for
those who think that dreams are just nonsensical things that just
randomly occur, well, you just go on being eternally damn stupid as
shit, because
YOU ARE MOST DEFINITELY IN MAJOR
ERROR with that
point of view. Three more SPACE BAR HACKS just happened, yo. Usually
I do not even mention all the hacks as they (H4-6)
happen in REALE-TIME,
but
today, I'm making a point, and “just saying”!
So TEE HEE HEE, Mizz Lilly Lovely Munster! Here comes the BOX SCREEN
HACK now Sheriff, (H7)
where I go to change color on a word which normally works just fine,
but once in a while that stupid box pops up on my screen with all
sorts of complicated fucking menu option prompts and I just 'X' out
of it and go back to using the normal color box, and here comes
another SPACE-BAR-HACK, so you get the picture Sheriff, of what these
diseased fucking monsters love to endlessly put me through, and this
is merely modest harassment (H8)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So shall we now continue onward with the FAMILY OF WASHCLOTHS that
time warps in-between the 1970 and the 1980 deals, where first
I am in Haddonfield's illustrious Cooley-Hall,
and then I am ACTUALLY
IN THAT PREDICTED PLACE
THAT I AM YELLING ABOUT, 1802
Robin Hill Apartments,
in Voorhees, New Jersey, that really
was a farm outside of Haddonfield back in 1970
as Robin Hill was not yet built, and it was A FARM. Psychic visions
or abilities are very fucking misunderstood here on this level of
human waking world conscious awareness. I won't bother to list all
the hacks any more, as we are up to at least number
thirteen or so now,
SHERIFF, but you get the point, hopefully anyway!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
when I would got to sleep while living alone at age fifteen and a
half at Chill-MO Tom Reale's place in Ventnor on non Abbey Road but
rather on Cornwall Avenue, I'd experience continual serial dreams of
being with some very weird and scary fucking cunt peeps, who
telepathically called themselves “THAT FAMILY”. At the very final
nightmare, one of them had shot me with a small handgun and later, I
was taken by them to some crazy place far out in the country
somewhere, where I was placed on some operating table, anesthetized,
and then both of my lungs were removed, and when IO looked at them on
the table, somehow still alive perhaps through a ventilation system
that the medical industry does in fact use, and even used back in
those cave days of 1970, and somehow
my lungs had turned into WASHCLOTHS.
I remember this making such an incredible frightening impression on
my very young adolescent mind, and when my
mom and her boyfriend, Sidney Cohen Crown,
had come down to visit me one afternoon, about two days after the
final nightmare, which if memory serves me there were four of them
total; I told my mom about it, and she later told me that she never
saw anything like my eyes while I was telling her the nightmare,
because
the pupils were as big as coffee saucers,
to use her exact quotation. The hacking is mostly SPACE-BAR type and
we are up to about twenty two or so now, Sheriff, in case you're at
all interested, yo BRAH! Yes I am now quite aware of the UFO
and UFON, and PROJECT
BLUEBOOK, and the
entire phenomenon's belief, that medical procedures such as my being
medically dissected, and my lungs turned into washcloths; is somehow
all a genetic part of this planetary ongoing topic, but back then,
two things that I do know a lot about, I KNEW ABSOLUTELY NOTHING OF
WHATSOEVER THEN!!!!!!!!!! One was the UFO and medical research
phenomenon, and the other was the MAFIA'S somewhat friendlier term
and expression that is used for their groupations (groupings) as they
say here on the mortal world and not in Purgatory, you know, “the
family”, or THAT FAMILY,
I mean really, what's the big diff here, yo??????? Now I'm not
suggesting anything here, but I am merely telling what I now do in
fact know and truths that now I am aware of that I had no way of
knowing about back then, and to say it again, “I'm
just saying”!!!!!!!!!!!
The fucking hacking, especially the SPACE-BAR-HACKING is really off
the fucking wall here, SHERIFF SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! When I
move soon from this hellhole and into a trailer, I will hook my shit
up all differently so I'll be able to easily get to the back of my
computer and will unplug the internet connection every time I am not
using it, so when I blog, the hackers will not be able to do as much
to me without being fucking cunt connected up to the internet,
SHERIFF KJM, kind sir yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There are
zillions of things that I'll soon be getting into that go on with
these three monstrous fuckign things from my past, the KFP invention
that also include stuff Patty HHH had given me, cassette tapes that I
used to make things happen that maybe I shouldn't have and had put
out of me' mind completely AGAIN, as well as the WASHCLOTHS of
Atlantic City FAMILIES, and the wild LOIS FOCA song and all the
connections and dots that perfectly had fitted together ALL ALONG ALL
THE ENTIRE TIME, with me sitting in a home with billions in my attic
and never even understanding a thing while it was all happening in
that world famous fucking shit that we hear tell of upon countless
occasions, “REAL/E TIME”!!!!!!!!!!! Now 'KFP' (Keyboards
From Petahell),
was a wild invention that words would be totally inept to properly
describe. Still, this was built because I wanted to be able to do
things that others around me, even in the great profession of sound
recording, were unable to do, making me therefore in a position where
I would stand out head and shoulders higher than the crowd. I knew
from childhood that I was under some absolutely unexplainable
nightmare curse, and that's all I damn knew. Still I knew it, and
thus, I came to the conclusion before even reaching midway through
puberty, that I needed to do special things just to be recognized at
all and keep me out of total obscurity and invisibility. This is why
I seriously debated with myself to admit to the world that I
seemingly have a magical power over motion, and not in some small way
like those famous magicians or psychic, ranging from Geller to Blaine
to Copperfield. I
told Jennifer Washburn that I would literally FLY OVER HER BUILDING
IN ATLANTICV CITY ONE DAY, PHYSICALLY,
and I could have done it.
She
responded back tome on that wild day,
“Mark,
what would it prove”.
Her
response was absurd when you think about it. Still, it was perfectly
within all the norms based on my suffering from a covert and
invisible major horrendous FAMILY
CURSE
that Morianity
calls
the HUNTINGTON
CURSE,
and no, not the one that you hear about should you go online and
GOOGLE UP this thing.
It is like what I told you all years back concerning the word that
morianity uses, called 'EXPLORATRON'.
After I began saying my incredible bullshit on the topic for several
months, maybe a full year; poof, somehow someone
or some thing to
quote awesome William Shatner Captain Star Trek Kirk,
went back into time,
and magically created this same word, and then made the
GOOGLE-RANKING SO 'BERNIE-HUUUUUUUUUUGE', so that now, when
we GOOGLE
UP
the word “EXPLORATRONS”,
we do not get anything whatsoever about what Morianity has told the
world about with this incredible deal.
To this day, I still may go to the beach, or some public place; and
do the unthinkable,
with or without any following DEEDEE birds, or pink non-goddess
Salmon-fish, from 1997
and 1998 somewhere, up
there in good ol' lovely wonderful Atlantic City, NO JOYSEY! Yes
speaking of two years along that range in time, I screwed up and
reversed the wild spirit-travel experience. It was in 1996 that I
went back to 1968, and told my classmates that I came from the year
1997, and not the other way around! So maybe the last are first and
the first are last and we all need to endlessly reverse what our
stock brokers insist that we do with our life savings. Think the shit
about it folks, yo! Then comes the square wave twinallities as well
as the twin magazine articles, and also without ANY GODDESSDAMN
MAGAZINE ARTICLES intentionally left out for any and all security
officers to see or said better, NAUT BE ABLE TO AVOID SEEING when
positioned as they were, and without any help from great marriages,
washcloth families or expensive land management expensive ass
TRANSFER
STATIONS; but just
powerful inventions like MAGNESONIC'S
KEYBOARDS
FROM
PETAHELL,
really, it is one 'HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE'-ASS
invention, oh wonderful Senator Sanders, great mighty sir.
SO
PWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE FREAKING WIN the 2020 ELECTION!!!!!!!!!!!!
TANKS AND BOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!!!
All dots always connect, and all messages and truths, just absolutely
CANNOT
HELP BUT BE LAWTRONICALLY WAITING IN COSMOS, TO BE PLUCKED OUT AND
USED. THIS IS INDEED OUR SECOND GREATEST BIBLICAL PROMISE, KNOCK,
SEEK, YOU KNOW. THE
FIRST GREATEST WILL ALWAYS BE THE
BLOOD, AND THIS IS WHY THE MEDICAL INSTITUTE KNEW THE POWER OF VERY
YOUTHFUL BLOOD, ONLY
TO SAVE OUR YOUTH AND NAUT OUR SINS, MIZZ AT&T BLAKE. SO
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TO MISTER GREAT CHESTER-FRANK, YO!!!!!!!!
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Oh
those endlessly 'signaling STEM CELLS, huh dock Corriell?
Nov
28, 2019 8:00 AM – Dec 5, 2019 7:00 AM
|
END
TWANSMISSION,
SIR ELMER FWUDD!
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