Saturday, January 25, 2020

It All Lead Up To This Incredible Now; Mister Gutherman






It All Lead Up To This Incredible Now; Mister Gutherman”



3:41 A.M., on Saturday morning, 25 January, 2020









All throughout this now slightly longer than fourteen year blog with a two and a half year absence that began on last election year here in America, I talked about 'PARALLEL EVENT', and I discussed the alternative possibility behind what causes such things, and named it, “Third Thing Happenings”, sort of appropriately named for my days in late 1969 and into 1970 with my educator of infinite intrigue and mystery, Sir Mister Marcucci, at the Hopkins Lane and King George's Highway COOLEY HALL. Whether the straight up concept of a parallel event that magically exists on virtually countless items, has a true other force behind it, that goes onto cause both things or not; Morianity wishes to coin another new word called, 'Quantation' that's totally separate from the already established other two words of 'quantization' and 'quantification'. Third-Thing-Happenings, if this is indeed the hidden powerful truths to much of what my Morianity calls 'parallel-event'; can be merely shortened now to this newly created one new word that has been made up by me. I only introduce this because for a long time, I have hinted at my intentions of further exploring this reality with any interested viewing Blogaudians, and I have been somewhat remiss so far to do this. The reason is not that I am Mizz Terry Harbor Egghead Scatterbrained, but because I knew that it waited for a much more appropriate time where it would actually NEED TO BE discussed in tandem with present themes. This is now that time, yo.









In these blogs that began in early January of the year 2006, I was not shy of telling the world, telling anyone out here willing to listen to me, that I HAD SOME POWERFUL HORRIBLE ROTTEN DANGEROUS ENEMIES, and these enemies were harassing and persecuting me to death with vicious unspeakable torture that was managed somehow to be done absolutely and totally covertly and invisibly, with stealth incredible cloaked hidden methods, in some mind bending organized way, and that I was nor am I ever, insane or mentally ill, at least no more than anyone anywhere would be if forced to live through such unfathomable hellish flesh sucking nightmares on steroids that never ever stops and now has gone on my entire lifetime. I told this story and told numerous huge things that were done to me that would be against any law of any civilized nation on the planet. I've given my best ideas and theories to why it is all happening to me, and I admitted from the fucking swing bat that I cannot ever seem to know anything for absolute certain, and this makes what I am suffering through even more intensely agonizing. But anyone studying my 14+ year blog project called MORIANITY, knows beyond any doubt that I have claimed this to be real and happening to me, and stating that I am not attempting to deceive or misinform anyone ever of any facts pertaining to any of this damn bullshit. In many of these listed items talked about in this blogging project, I was specific and gave out real names, real dates and times, real places, and real events, none of that fucking DRAGNET TV SHOW SHIT where things were changed to protect anybody. It all came out, and all the gloves came off!















I told about the day Mike Gutherman came over to the Carey's Lamp Apartments, AKA many other names such as New York Apartments, Carriage Lamp Apartments, and there were others. He was my resident manager at the apartment place where I had previously resided at, across from the Kennedy Hospital Stratford Division on Laurel Road, above a row of medical offices. I had given him a bunch of things that would have been thrown out in my move, and he was happy to get them; a Kroton Plant, some phonograph vinyl records, some small furniture, and some other junk. But several months after I had moved into the Lamp, he knocked at my door, and how he found out where I had moved to is still a mystery to me, but he came over one day while my father and I were there, and he told me that his life had gone to hell after I had given him these things. He had lost his wife, his job, his residence, and was living homeless out of an old truck, all by himself. He blamed me. He was not wrong, BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT, how did he know that I was in fact responsible for his destroyed fucking life? Well, some things remain topic for other future blog work, but for right now yo, let me stick with more germane points, or 'pernts' in case any ARCHIE'S out here are reading these words. When I told Jim Burr a week later, when he too was over at the apartment; he refused to believe me, and literally, right in front of my father, he called me a pathological liar. This too has major weight and significance, but again,for other future times. For right now, let me stay directly ON PERNT, Sir A. Bunkerqueens!













Everything in my MORIANITY has weight in this cosmos, HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE fucking weight, in case my readers haven't noticed this about me, YEY, YO BRAH! Now in the second decade of the twenty-first century, and to quote Dave Speas from the HTHS and my Westmont, New Jersey days of early adolescence; TIME HAS CAUGHT UP with, to quote Paul Harvey, at least to some degree; THE REST OF IT ALL. Everything was leading up to these present times, and I knew all along it had to be like this, as this has been 'the story of my life', as far back as I can remember; and with or without any prophetic conversations between cousins, in my Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason's Chevrolet Automobile, one early evening, on the world famous Pennsylvania's Schuylkill Expressway, heading into the city of brotherly love, and AKA Philadelphia, YO!















Every damn thing going on in Washington politics, all of it, my entire story is completely interconnected and it is all rapped up within all of it tighter than a cocoon sliding into a large massive black hole. There is no undoing or stopping any of it, and it all has to happen, as it all happened before and before and before and before. For example, let us discuss one of numerous topics of Morianity, MIND CONTROL, or 3434343434343434343434, as the letter 'M' is the numerological conversion to the digit-4 being the 13th letter of the English Alphabet and adding the digits of 1+3=4. then the letter 'C' is the numerological conversion to the digit-3, being the 3rd letter of the English Alphabet. Tellosian mind Control, just as smack dab right out of the so-called 'fictional' STAR TREK TV SHOW. How many people out here honestly believe that this is all happening without real honest to the gods mother fucking 3434343434? Dogs living in doghouses, and all of the mail counts ever performed in the town of Berryville, AKA Hammonton Hanging in there Paula WAYV King, couldn't make all of this come out more true or more cosmicly accurate to the endless powerhouse reality of the JRSS! IPYT! Without mind control, anyone who can truly believe that just over 50% of the United States Senate, as well as just under 50% of the American citizenry; could possibly do what they do, regarding their inconceivable support for an obvious dictator monster who has all but taken over our great nation, WITHOUT TELLOSIAN MIND CONTROL BEING PERFORMED just as Morianity has discussed intelligently for 14 YEARS NOW; is beyond a damn ass blind pathetic ignorant fool! To quote Sir John Colorado resident Henningsen, back late in the nineteen-sixties, “It's just that simple”!















Forget about my tales about music, the big business peeps harassing me as told to me by ADA Ron Wirtz Senior, as well as how he said to me that if Trump called him and admitted what he was doing to me, similarly to what he has been doing to innocent peeps in this Ukraine situation, “Mark, I'd say to him. Mister Trump, come down to my office, and we'll take your plea and admission”. This is real, it happened, SHERIFF MASCARA; and if the damn democrats want to have a tiny chance to avoid this nation 'falling into history' just as I warned President Clinton in my letter to him, back shortly after he took office, and before my move into the damn Highview Apartments, from my rented home at Patty Meeker's place, on Route 561, that goes directly to the 'other magical school' near the potato chip place, in Egg Harbor City, called, Harborfields Detention Center, that I never knew existed until I lived with the mighty KING CLAN in Berryville, first at judge Rasso's home at 65 Middle Road Mail Count, and then later at FBI Agent Steve Caruso's place on Thirteenth Street, made me aware of this place. These things are facts, and they aren't some worthless dribble, no matter how many mother Teresa's, or WFMU Teresa's, ever attempt to circulate their false opinions about. My stuff can be fact checked, backed up, and mathematically verified by professional statisticians, showing the odds for my story being delusions on my part or some whack ass hoax, to be in numbers unknown by anyone not in the scientific and astrophysicist communities.























Well, a perfect time of course for Mizz Jane Sleazeweedsdisease to strike me, huh, while going into such powerful fucking dogshit. Allow me to quickly compensate, please!





THANK-UUUUUUUUUUUU, all hills, all robins, and most definitely, all sugars. TEE HEE HEE 2U, MIZZ LILLY MUNSTER, with your 'all over again' love affairs, on or off of 2001 Easter Sunday's, yo BRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





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The great 'STAR TREK-TNG' was every bit as good a sequel as was their original STAR TREK, and it was being guided and led of course, by fawces beyond this world, using Sir Gene Roddenberry. He just couldn't have known so many secrets about me and my life unless the “ALIENS” had told him, and I use that word loosely, so don't panic U.S. Airforce! Still, the episode with 'Q' called “All Good Things”, tells volumes of hidden truths unless you know where and how precisely to look for them, such as this New Jersey inventor does, namely 'ME', single me of course, and I plan on remaining single for the next 8,000 fucking years too, yo! I believe Sir Chester-Frank would put it very good right about now should he in fact be heredahelda, and HERE; and working on this blog along with me, and I shall quote him, “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”!!!



















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I am going to discuss SONGS and MUSIC, HALLS FAWCES and their relationship with my SONGS and MUSIC, 22 years ago on this date with the MURDER OF MY MOTHER by these MILITUFORCE HALLS FAWCES, and finally, COOLEY HALL, RPL, and ATLANTIC CITY'S GREAT TENNESSEE AVENUE 'SHOP', that Misses Estelle Andersen Bassler refused to admit to its existence, or that she ran this place during the times of SARAH, and why this ASTRAL MIRRORED reality, then became 'transferred down' into human reality by way of a very strange and mysterious warping of space inside a triangulated magnetic field, and maybe was secretly powered by a wild rail system known as the New Jersey's “High Speed-Line” (PATCO) train service. Let us discuss this further before closing out this continual laying of major powerful foundations necessary before striking with the ultimate truths that hopefully the Democrats will pick up on, and to quote the great Mariah Carey, “Before it is too late”!!!





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MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASES CHART:



SATURDAY, JANUARY 25, 2020







CURRENT PHASE IS:



WANING CRESCENT 1:6





N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 WNC7 N.M.













'SOOOOOOOOOOOOO', Arthur Crane sir, and any other Blogaudians out here who are AKA “mysterious global travelers of the 007 Club (for the most part), as some few may 'naut' be, Mizz AT&T Blake; we've all heard of the 'TIME PARADOX' where the so-called traveler goes backward and kills his grandfather, returns to the present if able to so, and then what? Does he do a Mike Fox and begin to vanish in fractional sections, or does this happen, or that, and so forth? Screw this paradox, as my hyperspace technology has shown what is real and what is TV-fiction, so how about a much bigger and stranger paradox? How about examining the music verses the stock market paradox that the MILITUFORCE engages with me and has for decades, where even though they want a strong endlessly bullish economy and stock market, and use hurting me and the parallel event that comes with that, in order to achieve their goals and objectives; they also know that an even bigger parallel event exists with me and music. Every time I try to do any kind of serious musical project, the economy FLIES THROUGH THE ROOF, just as the M2F wants it to do, however, Mike Fox sir, don't go vanishing in fractions quite yet, ol' bud. Why then does this very same MILITUFORCE do everything that they can muster to stop me every time I ever try and do anything with music? This has gone on for three solid decades. They want a huge up market, they know my doing music causes it to fly up, the most recent proof AGAIN, being the 2013 musical project called, “You'll Be Crossing Over”, yet they go gangbusters TO STOP ME EVERY TIME. Personally, this paradox peaks my curiosity far far far far beyond anything with that dumb ass time bullshit! Oh don't for a New York microsecond folks, think that I haven't tried to unravel this great mother fucking mystery, and don't think that I've not come up with some gargantuan and beyond HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE stuff. Still, I know that I am light fucking years from getting even close to the bottom of this wild paradox. The closest potential truth is always THE SIMPLEST, as this wisdom predates evolution itself, and it is evolution that appears to endlessly follow this rule and pattern. And the simplest idea in trying to unravel this crazy fucking mystery, is that even though the MILITUFORCE despises, detests, and hates a weak and bad economy, and loves to use PARALLEL EVENTS such as injuring me, and wiping out my life, in order to achieve their desire 'magical effects'; they seem to HATE, DETEST, AND DESPISE my doing anything involving MUSIC, way way way more!!!!!!!!!!! Again, this can be a totally oversimplified conception to thissssssss, Mizz Erica Snakes Cane from 1983, and then again yo, it just may be the simple real honest to fucking goddess TRUTH, yo!!!!!!!!! Now let us continue on with this junk that began with thissssssss: I am going to discuss SONGS and MUSIC, HALLS FAWCES and their relationship with my SONGS and MUSIC, 22 years ago on this date with the MURDER OF MY MOTHER by these MILITUFORCE HALLS FAWCES, and finally, COOLEY HALL, RPL, and ATLANTIC CITY'S GREAT TENNESSEE AVENUE 'SHOP', that Misses Estelle Andersen Bassler refused to admit to its existence, or that she ran this place during the times of SARAH, and why this ASTRAL MIRRORED reality, then became 'transferred down' into human reality









A moronic child can see totally clearly, that my enemies have a vested interest in my ENDLESSLY REMAINING DIRT POOR and absolutely DOWN AND OPPRESSED. If my 14 YEAR BLOGS don't make that truth abundantly clear, then nothing ever could! The stupidest retard on the planet knows that a hit song can earn a songwriter a whole mother fuckign lot of money, and many people will say that I am not falsely claiming to have some talent and ability in the field of musical composition, after-all, deniers of this fact have no legal argument when I can claim so much clever thievery against me by major record labels and top recording artists over a pattern of four decades of time that would make Molly New herself, blushhhhhhhhhhhh, and blush hard!













My stove was repaired by the Public housing authority several days ago, after I stuck a metal spoon into a metal pan of soupy stuff that I was cooking up, and Diana knocked me into orbit, and while I was on the floor unconscious, I had an experience that was beyond inconceivable and surreal. I was back at that particular parallel world where Donald Trump owns a mental institution and I am a patient there. This time, I had a room in a different part of the building than other times before, and I got talking to a strange dude who was there to discuss history and politics. He had two sidekicks with him as well. The sidekicks were short African American males barely over five feet tall and around forty five years of age, and the man himself who was behind it was a white dude about age fifty or so, tall and slender, wit an very unusual haircut. After the discussion, I remember distinctly telling the two sidekicks how much I enjoy learning things and thanked them for coming over. Then I suddenly found myself at a main desk with the man in charge, and he took me over to a corner area and whispered to me that he wanted to show me a credit card receipt that showed how my enemies operate with me, and actually verify beyond any possible argument, just what is being done tome all these years by what I have called the WOMO-MILITUFORCE. He would not allow me to keep the paperwork, but it blew my mind. That is all I will say for now concerning this issue, yo! When I woke up on my back on the kitchen floor, I walked into the living room and sat down on my TV-chair, and I suddenly realized that I was 90 minutes backward in time. This is very real, it happened, and I KNOW HOW IT HAPPENED, AND I KNOW WHY IT HAPPENED, but obviously Sheriff Mascara sir, I don't dare go to RED STAR #327 or so, with this major RED LINE IN THE SAND, at least naut quite yet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will only say this much. The Chinese people, at least a long time ago, were the most intelligent race of peeps on this Earth-planet, and IPYT, me' kind folks!!! I was back at 1802 Robin Hill Apartments again the other night, and I was doing another music project in that parallel world, with a really wild new song, that I never heard anything like before in all me' life! I remember the title to it however, even though all else now escapes my human waking world brain; and that title was, “Technology Replaced Talent”, and appears to be sort of a new LOIS FOCA experience for the 21st century, only as I said, that is all I remember, no music, no other words! WOW-WOW-WOW! Oh well, at least Jewelly White wasn't there to make me nuts for 40 fucking years of Space-time-Mind, huh Mister I-Ching???????? Boy oh boy oh boy; Uncle Billy for crying out loud, yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




















ENDocrinologists AND END TRANSMISSION.






























































SUPER BOTBAR DAY, 10-17-2018, 4 P.M.



BLOG 49 OF TWENTY EIGHTEEN

SUB-TITLE:





''GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS''





CONTINUING CHAPTERS IN MORIANITY'S RELIGION FOR MILLENNIUM 3























Well, I'll tell you all where this horrible mother fucking shit all started, with this powerful monster rotten dream or hyperspace-interaction, that I found myself in just before awakening out of it in a shaking sweaty horror!!!!!!!!!! I was working at my old security-guard location up in Jersey, called, “Cifaloglio”. Instead of it being a trash collection site, sort of a miniature BFI or WM; it seemed to be a large area of woods and homes that had a team of security guards, because of some wild event that had just happened. Maybe even Marshall Law had been declared, I am not going to say, as I am not totally sure; but something was absolutely not right! There was a boy, who was White-Caucasian, a male teen, about 13-15 years of age, with brown hair and eyes, and about 5 feet four inches tall, weighing approximately 150 pounds; who was messing with me big time. Since I am being screwed with today by this harasser who I believe my messed up daughter has put up to doing this, I can see what Morianity calls the TSE, being completely involved here, in-between the two parallel worlds, here, and over there where my spirit-me was 'dreaming', (Towel-Seepage Effect). Even with all of this monster horrible turd swallowing pig piss going on around me today, I'm still not going to reveal the entire mess, and it is beyond the pale putrid and horrendous, kind SHERIFF MASCARA SIR, but where are you today??????? Jesus freaking Christ Almighty, for pity sake! I'll only say that this boy kept asking me if I had taken my medication today, and that he had heard me doing and saying some really crazy shit and was going to tell his friends along with my boss. I told him that he was trespassing on a private part of the area, and that he will be sorry if he makes trouble for me, as I will have him up on these charges. He then pulls out his phone and speed dials a ten digit number, and called my mom over at her job in Philadelphia. After five seconds or so, my phone rang in my pocket and it was my mom screaming her head off at me for something, and we got into a gargantuan loud phone-fight. The very last thing that she said to me was that she and Patty were going to come over to the jobsite and make trouble for me, and that the boy was going to somehow provide some weird proof that I had done some incredible bad thing, and was going to go to jail. I totally knew that I was being framed, and had no recourse. I drove out of the area and headed up north and was planning to go up to New York City and see one of Roy Carl Weiler Senior's friends, from the jobsite in both worlds, as over here, he worked with me at Cifaloglio, as well as wrote that book back in the twenty-ohs, called, “Secrets of the Museum”. His book was about the Roundhouse Museum of Egg Harbor City, just blocks away from where he resides on Philadelphia Avenue. This girlfriend of his has a place somewhere on Staten Island, at least over here in this universe, and the gods only know what the mother fucking shit is all happening out there in that parallel world place, where my damn ass spirit was obviously dreaming in!!!











I am going to say that I never drove all the way up to NYC, and I awakened out of that horrible freaking nightmare before I even got driving very far down the (95) Interstate and in fact, I may have still been in Mount Laurel, just getting off of Highway #295 and driving towards the entrance onto the interstate, near the bus terminal where my mom and her friend Shirley and coworker Jane Davis, and myself, all met in the early eighties, to take Atlantic City Casino tour bus trips, as was told on recent blogs, that I cannot wait to further get into now, since these horrible fucking bastards just won't stop persecuting me to my fucking total grave, YO!!!!!!!!! But anyway, I do remember that this friend of Roy's was somehow connected with this friend of Frank Callio, who I was supposed to go up and bring a lovely and expensive 'boukay of flowers' to, along with a tape of my song written in 2000, called, “Atlantic Queen”. Spellchecker is mother fucking totally worthless, not showing me how to properly and correctly spell the flower word, but I know you all know what I am saying, YO!!!!!!! By the way, before I forget, let me hit my damn clutch pedal here and switch gears, just for a quick seck. There is no one place, that the Russian Hackers keep switching my WEATHERBUG-APP to. But all I have to do in order to get the weather for my town to come back, long enough for me to post up a report; is to click into the box that says “CHANGE LOCATIONS” and it will go back; oh great mighty Federal Bureau of Investigation, ACLU, Federal Trade Commission, Federal Communications Commission, and etcetera, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











All soap-mouth people, from Mister Kaiter, my old Maryland camp counselor, to country bumpkin curse-word haters of 1986, in the back woods of Medford Refrigeration Lakes, up there in Hicksville-Jersey, I have one thing to say to yalls. You just try going through what mother fucking HALLS-FAWCES puts the MOUNTAINPEN through, day in and day out for 30-50+ years now, and see what kind of sanity or language, that you'd be left with, my BRO!!!!!!! I'm busy on my blog, Mister Wilbur MacAfee, YO, don't bug me, my BRAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You almost nailed me AGAIN, Mizz Sleaze-weeds Total-disease Jane Notfondau 1-BIT!!!!!!!!!!! BUTTTTTTTT, I managed to catch it, and block it; so HA-HA-HA-HA-HA, and aha-aha-aha-aha 2U2, Mister Michael Freaking 1971 McNulty, of Exton, Pennsylvania, United States of America, ESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW THAT PATTY.











You know, when she had all of that powerful information on her office desk that day, in the early middle seventies somewhere; my kind folks and blogaudians; she wanted me to never ever learn that she personally wanted this information to fall into my hands and a very clever plan of hers, very nearly made sure that this would happen, BUT JUST NOT DAMN ASS QUITE, YO! There is powerful dog**** in this cosmos, and MORIANITY has labeled it LAWTRONICS, or for a shorter abbreviation, also calls it the NUKE-RULES. I have come to know that originally, this was on her desk, and by late in the afternoon, she had thrown it into her waste basket next to her desk. Many would say, and everyone who works in the psych industry, that this kind of magical and schizophrenic thinking on my part, is why I am, to put it semi-kindly, a weirdo nutcase crackpot! Well, my response back is along the lines of a coworker's response to something that I had spoken one evening while employed at the RPL Sound Recording Laboratories, in Camden, NJUSAESMWG, by the name of Mizz Mashell Daniels, and that was, “Well Mark, you're entitled to your opinion”! I think if she had spoken the word “ENTITLED” any louder, or more angrily, it would have grown legs from her lips, and punched me right in my ugly puss. 'Oh well'; Ann King. 'Still', Lenny Brisco, I am entitled to believe that Patty was an extremely clever person, and she may still be. I am out of all loops, and have no clue who is alive and who has returned to the 'great-beyond'! BUTTTTTTTT I do know this folks. She wanted me to have this information, knowing fully well that I would choose to learn all about the Fascitar, and she wanted to be obscure and secretive to the very end, about who was behind this great OZ-CURTAIN, as well as a whole lot of other ones! The Fascitar is more than special secretive information from 2000 years before the common era (BC) written on stone tablets by powerful mountain people. Don't anyone out here ever say that the great ancient Guatemalan culture of mystery and intrigue, got the end of the world wrong. They never said that the end of the year 2012 was “the end of the world”. Study it all for yourself. BUTTTTTTTT, I'll tell you a huge ass fucking secret right here and right now, kind folks. When Mister Buttwipe Zimmerman shot and killed that poor young lad, Treyvon Martin; I KNEW on that very week, that the world had turned another “1967 Pat Fat Slob Robertson Cornerstone”! And I was 100%++++ correct. This was one CURVE that even HER FATHER was ahead on, and ahead of all of you out here. I just knew it, and then the shootings just went on and on and on, and I was right!!!!!!! I don't need any blues or crushes or other teen movies here to tell me a damn thing, Admiral Whalespock, sir, YO!!!!!!! Still, when the great Admiral Perry of the FAA Technical Center in Pomona, NJUSAESMWG, told me in 1988 before becoming an Admiral, that, “What you see and read in the newspapers, I see and read in the newspapers”, I was living in Moorestown, and had yet to move back a final time to Robin Hill, and then leave there for Patty Meeker's home in lovely ass Gibbsboro, and then to onto Highview Apartments, and then finally, to the death house in Somerdale, where your wonderful niece before she moved with her parents out to Cali, cost me a lot of political capitol at the great and unforgettable Abseacon Dairy queen. I really do naut think that any of this is WEEDEEKAWUSS, because it was all a huge deep dark plot to wipe out my life for another Dave Speas cycle in this now close to 81 century hellishness on steroids!

















THAT'S JUST REALITY, SON!



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RANDOMLY PULLED FROM MY PC FILES:

GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 125



The minute I made real trouble for these washcloths, Mizz Hilary, you and I both know, with or without being snowed in; just what went down all around me. I thought you might want to have some wild stuff to use on the guy. If you want to do it all in secret, please be my guessed guess, as I will not in any way disapprove. The ESS may not ever be stopped or exposed, but I feel you and hubby know some little bit about these top secret truths from Majestic Level TS-#12! Everything we hear about the Hold the Mayo Clinic is that it is free. But when I called, it was NOT FREE. We all know how this works, and this is how the entire election has been rigged so far with everybody. No one ever wants to know truths that are as horrible and monstrous as what I know to be true.









































Last night I was in that parallel universe where the Cifaloglio place is very different. I wanted to control the trip, but found myself powerless to do so, limiting me to a type-2-Exploratron. There are many reasons for why it is no easy task for moving into a more than one ambiguous meaning journeyman type-3 from type-1 or type-2 exploratron. It is just easier for me to go around again, and be on that stinking rotten train and go into my next cycle. I feel that each time I go through this, things are progressing worse and worse. I have two choices if I can ever not allow the enemies who appear to be following me back each time, to convince me I am just a delusional buttwipe kid. I am keeping both of these things to myself, for very obvious reasons, and my Milituforce enemies may think they have successfully crawled into my head and know, but I promise them that they are not as darn smart as they may think they are.











Friday and Sunday mornings, I suffered through two more extremely horrendous leg charlie horses, Friday was my left calf, while this morning, it was my right calf. The pain is Christless excruciating if I do say so myself! It may take me a trillion years, but I know fully well I will watch all of these rotten stinking no good bums suffer under inconceivable torment for all eternity, for what they have done to me! Oh baby, is that ever a total promise, YO!

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We will be talking about why anyone can pull at random, from a TV-off air taped video library, to a computer open office file, to anything, anywhere, at any time; and then literally come to see the explosive reality of Mister James Redfield, and his mighty revelations to the world, two decades back; regarding the never ending messengers who secretly live and dwell, deep inside of the worlds of coincidence, and other words that he uses in his marvelous, and truly beyond outstanding books, regarding his trips down into Peru, in South America. What he learned shortly after Dave Roth and I were also exploring this, back while I was residing at the great and powerful NON-OZ Highview Apartments; is inconceivably astonishing. I swear to all that' both holy and unholy, that this goes beyond being unfathomable to the power of a thousand. What we can all do and learn from this powerful shit is beyond even the mind blown Count Richard Lennon Von Marcucciess, of 1969!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We have not even so much as begun to get into all of this incredible crap, Mizz Carpenter, so WOW ALL OF THIS; PATTY H.











END TRANSMISSION.























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Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
PAu002153196
1996
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
SRu000332786
1996
Mohr, Mark W., 1954-
SRu000362114
1997




























I am going to discuss SONGS and MUSIC, HALLS FAWCES and their relationship with my SONGS and MUSIC, 22 years ago on this date with the MURDER OF MY MOTHER by these MILITUFORCE HALLS FAWCES, and finally, COOLEY HALL, RPL, and ATLANTIC CITY'S GREAT TENNESSEE AVENUE 'SHOP', that Misses Estelle Andersen Bassler refused to admit to its existence, or that she ran this place during the times of SARAH, and why this ASTRAL MIRRORED reality, then became 'transferred down' into human reality by way of a very strange and mysterious warping of space inside a triangulated magnetic field, and maybe was secretly powered by a wild rail system known as the New Jersey's “High Speed-Line” (PATCO) train service; the same place where one day, right after this had been completed; I was on one of their trains, and this was where I remember each time, THAT THIS IS WHERE IT BEGINS, “AGAIN”, that is, my endless CYCLE, sir Dave Speas, where time may indeed “be catching up with me”, but I never ever am able to escape this endless cycle and photon wall barrier written of in a wild ATCO MUSIC PROJECT song, about the President of RPL Sound Recording Laboratories of Camden, NJUUSAESMWG, Sir Ernie Merker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A child can see, or though one might think at quick glance into all of this, and be absolutely mistaken of course; that the New Group Leader (NGL) was right on the money with something recently spoken by the great super talented Mizz Mariah Carey, regarding her childhood, and I said I did not get it, and NOW, YEAH, I GOT IT, AND ON CHRISTMAS DAY, GEE; SO IMAGINE THAT; oh great ass world!!!!!!!! Hey just because when I wrote the lyrics to that stupid ass fishing song back in 2012, on my 1983 re-write of an old ATCO, NJUSAESMWG tune called, GITYA” (Girl, I'll Tell You anything”); I had no clue how meaningful the very first verse lyrical content was in cosmic JRSS reality; HALLS FAWCES did indeed fucking know, and they are the ones who always appear to be authoring all of every artist's material, AND THAT, I DO KNOW FOR 100 PERCENT POSITIVE SURE, WITHOUT ONE HESITANT SAND GRAIN OF FUCKING ASS DOUBT WHATSOEVER, YO BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, a powerful fucking nocturnal interaction that I awoke from early on Christmas Day afternoon, was what prompted my mind to start thinking along certain channels that obviously then went onto lead me into this newest powerhouse revelation, oh mighty NEW GROUP LEADER (NGL)!!!!!!!!! But then, even OLD GROUP LEADERS tend to endlessly busily travel around the globe, doing 'something', and a moron can see it when I post me' BWOG-STATS, Mister Elmer Fwudd! I think, and I can be way off base of course, that these powerful peeps want me to further expound on things regarding the All Mighty GODDESS of this Earth-Planet. Since GAMES are loved so very much, by Her, and Her entire Astral-Plane 'clan'; biblically called by many other names, maybe it is indeed time for me to go a wee bit further on with the many potential objectives and goals of these games, since obviously, these games that are played with the citizens of this EARTH-PLANET, vary quite widely and extremely from person to person. So it may no longer be Christmas Day, but things are only existing in this 'eternal-now', because commingled into these very games, is the wild way that MIND causes us human beings to bounce from instant to instant, rather than in a totally non-linear Heady Lamar 'JUMP'! Me' apologies if I am misspelling the name of this incredible actress, whose story has never made PAGE ONE, especially in the MUFON-WORLD where it most definitely should have been inserted powerfully smack dab in the center of it all.















1:01 ANTE' MERIDIAN

THURSDAY MORNING

23 JANUARY, 2020

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG















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MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASES CHART:



THURSDAY, JANUARY 23, 2020







CURRENT PHASE IS:



WANING CRESCENT 6:6





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 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 N.M.



OLD TESTAMENT MORIANITY FROM 2006:



The Big Hawaii 50, and I Tried My Morians, a low hah ha, With Jokes all On Me”









Morianity is over now, and there will not B further writings, as the great SSJKK just whispered in my ear, that I am 2 tell what has been told, and I have. It is now over. The world will not need to know any more at this point, and in fact, it currently is so dumbed down, that all of the MORIANITY BIBLE, is but a big blur to the entire human race. There are other things I must now do, one of which is to prepare for a long and permanent trip out and away from where I currently reside, either South America or some Pacific or even Atlantic island. The main story has been told, and it is all true so help me the gods. I am no longer playing their game, their most recent one, let's fuck with the little dick head on the computer. I will just state that the MORIANITY BIBLE has served a cosmic purpose, that the human race is unaware of at this time. Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Karge Krassle has given me permission to put a back cover on this book. No sir Lads, Lassies, Lab-dogs, and Lab-Technicians everywhere and anywhere all over the mighty evil EARTH-PLANET, not all things told stay the same, and no, I did NAUT end the MORIANITY PROJECT back after the 3rd day in August of the year 2006 of the common-Era. So WEEEEEEEEEEE and yes, this may all be quite WEEDEEKAWUSS too, lovely Dairy Queen Katy, so pweeeeeeze do NAUT beat me up or ruin me' chances with my pal the Congressman to get my shit all looked into, oh wait a minute, this already has happened, did it NAUT, lovely Mizz AT&T Blake from 1983? As stated in recent blogs, those such as myself who 'appear' to always be changing my mind and swinging back and forth on 'magical garden fences' for thousands of years, may be clinically diagnosed as 'BIPOLAR'. However, it is not us who are nut jobs and overly moody, but rather it is intentional circumstances being brought to bear in some wild unfathomable game that is surrounding us endlessly and always! But in all of this, there always will be another diametrically opposing reality, and that being, several items that will remain absolute CONSTANTS, no matter what, and no cosmic pendulum or GASME-GODS-GAMES can alter this powerhouse ass truth, praise the gods! One of these ultimate and ever so powerful constants will ALWAYS BE ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY, USAESMWG, and TENNESSEE AVENUE there! And this won't change even with a thousand drunken Russ Thaxton's over at me' Oaklyn apartment at one A.M., or hollering out mean nasty 'doggish' comments on Haddon Avenue, about people's daughters!





















THE GODS GASME GAMES:

I HAVE TOLD HOW THESE FUCKING GODS ARE PLAYING ENDLESS GAMES WITH ME, AND IT GOES FAR BEYOND CUTTING AND PASTING IN SOLAR SYSTEMS, OR CREATING ALL SORTS OF NASTY ASS SHIT, ESPECIALLY WITH POOR PITIFUL FRAIL AND ELDERLY WHITTLE ME, YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!








































Now I will not tell who it was who put me into a mild trance, against perhaps my better judgment, and made me remember that wild night a little bit clearer, the night that altered my history, FOREVER. Still, as Gene Blucran Rotten-Berry and his pals all knew quite well, my non-probe induced trip that lasted 153 days and not to the Russican Planet, was one thing, merely adding the letter-C to the country known as Russia in the non fiction world; and it was an entirely different thing how my 1980 traveler song that was my best recollection when the event was brand new to me, of a much more gargantuan truth, the song sung to me by the GREAT SCYLLA GODDESS JEHOVAH, owner of the multiverse; called what else other than, “Love Is For Carpenters”, and sometimes shortened by me this author, to LOIS FOCA. The illustration sentence above makes an obvious conclusive reason for my doing this, no rocket science involved at least not that I was yet to be consciously aware of. Still, Gene Roddenberry sir, I was also the New Jersey inventor from World Laboratories, with my KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL invention. The odds of all of this coincidental activity would be perdy dern close to a million to one against being just that, and not a connection directly to my life, in the 'non-fictional' world, and what a laugh many think those words to be, only I am not laughing, lads and lassies, not even in a whisper tone. The one thing that should not be ever forgotten or diminished by anyone reading these words, EVER, is what happened in the spring time of 1986 at the New Jersey MEDPORT DINER, as this if nothing else ever could, PROVES HOW SOME PARTS OF MY LIFE ARE 'CONSTANTS'. They are never changing truths that cannot be fucking escaped from, and they do show many otherwise hidden truths that WOULD BE LOST FOREVER otherwise! I was with my pal David Roth and we were at a diner and for the first time since we had met at a security job in November of the previous year of 1985, I told him about “SARAH KRASSLE”, while we had this meal there, and we continued with the conversation after we left but remained in the parking lot of the place. This is when ALL OF DOGTOWN broke loose (HELL), and we were literally set upon by local police, and I KNOW NOW BEYOND ANY DOUBT, that this was a warning and a threat to me, that I am now skating out into the pond where the ice is about half a centimeter thick!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My Photo





Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

© 2006-2020, 'BOM' (Blogs Of Mountainpen)































































When certain things happen, there is not a person or a group of persons in this entire galaxy that can convince me that Mister David Leigh Smith was not giving me perfect and accurate advice from his non-Einsteinian blackboard that autumn day in 1970 when I returned from one magic school to another magic school, regarding horny and yet so lovely Mizz Zenkiss. One is the major assault Dave Roth and I fell under as a direct result of my telling him about SARAH KRASSLE that day at the diner.













There is no huge trick to the great number three, or the 'TRINITY', even the number of three cubed or 3 to the power of 3, which is number 27, the number of electricity. Anyone who has lived on Earth and has even half of an open mind, knows this is for real. We all know that famous people die in groups of three, and we all know that this number three has major significance that cannot be ignored. If an 'A' copy is not properly disintegrated after 'field travel', a long way off in the future in many of the hyperspace realities; a person would know what it would be like to live more than one life at a time, and gross as it may sound, if done twice without disintegration of 'A' copies; what it would be like to eat steak, take a shit, and have great sex, ALL AT ONCE. This is all there is to the TRINITY, in case no one has figured this out yet. “God in three persons, blessed trinity”, we've all heard the hymn or most of us. So why then wouldn't JEWELLY WHITE operate in those three women here in this part of transdimensional reality? It just stands to reason, but why give me that “LOIS FOCA” song in early June of 1980? This gets a tad bit more complex, but it is along the same lines as placing a group of eight young gorgeous girls on an Atlantic City beach, right near to where Ann King and myself were sitting one day in the late summer of 2009, all literally around seven feet tall. Once the GASME GODS GAMES become a little more understood, at least some of their sick reasoning for what they do, does become somewhat known and obvious, and almost predictable. All the shit they did to me with MUSIC, with the gambling game of ROULETTE, and with GIANT GIRLS, all makes perfect sense, as does why they play that stupid game with me that involves a seemingly never ending connection to female vocalists. When using the Chinese awesome spirit travel wands known as the I-Ching Wands, on Pearl Harbor Day of 1996, I was taken to Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, where SARAK KRASSLE was with me and She spoke to me saying, “Let's play a game boy, called Guess the name of the Guests”. Everything is always some kind of GAME, GAME, GAME, the entire United States Impeachment Trial in the damn Senate, it is all nothing but ONE HUGE GARGANTUAN SILLY ASS GAME! My blogs told all the4se things long before any of it began unfolding or unraveling, if anyone was ever half smart enough to read a whole lot of fucking chit between the damn lines. The problem with this TRUMP shit however is that he has more than 40% of the American people LITERALLY UNDER HIS CULT SPELL, and they love him and would go and die for this rat ass bastard. At twenty minutes past six this very evening, one of those red necks interrupted the Senate proceedings and you could still hear the asshole shouting after the Sergeant of Arms threw him out of the place, for more than two solid minutes down the long corridor of the Capitol Hill Chamber. Getting rid of Trump will only start the second fucking civil war for crissake. It is too late for all of us, and this nation is cunt eating doomed. The whole world knows it but I'm the only one with enough fucking cunt balls to yell it out on the goddessdamn internet! There's no mother fucking answer. Don't look to me for an answer folks, I am totally fresh ass fucking out, yo! No one ever listens to prophets IN TIME, and so, to quote my wonderful message sending kid from the days of all great Empire State Building journey's, “TOO LATE”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











Jan 14, 2020 5:00 PM – Jan 21, 2020 4:00 PM







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          Image result for sheriff ken j. mascaraMy PhotoAttorney General of Florida, Pam Bondi









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Where are you when I need you; Mister Marcucci, James Bond, and Your Highness? Adorable kids, yo!



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THE END”; all lovely savants!



WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!




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