Making
My Argument For Me While Still Playing Their Gasme-Games
1:16
A.M., on Monday, 27 January, 2020
Depending
on when this blog is read, unless read almost within the time circa
of its posting, usually two hours give or take from the date as shown
above with the time; we all know that my LEEEEEEEGALLY-PAID FOR
“PHOTOBUCKET” PHOTO, is continuously being removed, by some
unknown HALLS FAWCES FORCE, or the MILITUFORCE,
or “WHATEVER”, to quote the great Federal Congressman whom I knew
as a young lad before his days as Congressman Robert Andrews, back in
the start of the summer time in the year of
1975 while I was residing at Apartment
#1118,
at the Linden Hill Apartments,
in Lindenwold,
New Jersey, USA, ESMWG.
Then normally after a short period that ranges from one to ten days
or so, give or take, poof, it comes back again. I of course am not
behind this, nor do I appreciate this
TOTALLY ILLEEEEEEEEEGAL AND CRIMINAL INTERNET BEHAVIOR on the part of
whomever is indeed responsible for pulling off this continuous prank
now for about a year or so now, yo, Sheriff
Ken Mascara, kind sir! You would think that this 'FAWCE'
behind all of this, would be smart enough to see that THEY
ARE ACTUALLY LITERALLY MAKING MY
ARGUMENTS FOR ME REGARDING THESE
GODS-GASME-GAMES; as well as my
claims of continual and constant persecution
and harassment since 1986,
give or take. BUTTTTTTTTT, big ass BUT folks; to them, and with
another great paradox herein throughout the theme of this action
against my civil liberties, mainly my rights to free speech on my
blogs and posting my photo, guaranteed to me under the FIRST
AMMENDMENT of the great UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION; these
games seem to be of ultimate importance within some covert and yet to
be fully understood 'black-ops system' within the MILITUFORCE,
trumping and superseding even the threat and danger of becoming
exposed by the world and the ultimate great vindication of one MARK
WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN HUNTINGTON MOHR!Remember that I discussed in
an earlier recent blog about the 'OTHER
PARADOX' of persecuting me and stopping me whenever I
attempt to do anything connected with MUSIC, even though it always
raises the stock market WAY WAY UP FOR YEARS
as a parallel event result, and they ABSOLUTELY
LOVE A BULLISH ECONOMY AND WALL STREET, and persecute me in
order to also get this to happen inside of another powerful huge
parallel event, discussed for more than fourteen years now, on many
many fucking blogs! Me' pernt, Sir Archibald Bunkerqueens is simply
fucking thissssssss:! Dissecting the
mess that surrounds my nightmare fucking endless pathetic and pitiful
Earthly existence, has some CONSTANTS, and some
RULES, that appear to be not only NEVER CHANGING, but simply do not
make sense to me at all, since obviously, I have an extremely
limited knowledge to the full and total inner workings of these HALLS
FAWCES and or the (M2F)
MILITUFORCE! Yes, no matter how we shake this all up and
yes, even with the admitted limited full knowledge to the true total
operations (OPS) of this M2F, 'THEY'
still are making my argument for me regarding what I claim to be real
and absolutely happening to me ever since
August of 1986, when 'they'
endlessly continue to pull my PHOTOBUCKET photo
off of these blogs, and then, somehow 'they'
or some other group of human beings, restore
it again, yet never allow me to know who, what, why, where, or
anything that would permit me to register any kind of an official
legal complaint so that I could sue for money damages and introduce a
four decade MOLLY-NEW pattern of PRIOR-BAD-ACTS, as
well as get this entire shit once and for all EXPOSED TO THE WHOLE
'DAMN' WORLD, great Senator Bernie Sanders, SIR, yo!!!!!!! and hey,
without anybody being 'born again', sweating over any little yellow
sheets of paper up there in WASH your hands WASHINGTON, OR, 'losing
their DAMN JOBS' by informing me just who my DAMN daughter
was, sway back in the shortly post “TPB” days of my second stay
at the illustrious HIGHVIEW APARTMENTS
of Williamstown, NJUSAESMWG!!!!!!!!
So hey Sir Chester-Frank, yo, “WEEEEEEEEEEEEE”!!!
But
shall we proceed a tad bit further down this same road of the
PHOTOBUCKET REMOVAL GASME GAME,
and take it to PATTY AND MERRY,
where in truth, all or at least a HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE
great majority of roads, ALL SEEM TO HAVE LED all along; Mizz Lilly
Munster “All over again”!!!!! First we have what happened that
led up to the great hit song about love incidents that occurred
underneath seashore boardwalks in 1969. Then within a very short damn
march of years, we get Patty making sure from a great
Paula-WAYV-FM-RADIO type of 'trick', that I would receive some
incredibly wild magical powerful ancient wisdom-knowledge that was
and is known as, the “FASCITAR”. With this Fascitar, one is able
to cause people to “dream about people”. Then along comes my
crazy wild unexplainable shit with my memories coming back regarding
Atlantic City “SARAH KRASSLE”, and
right shy of the digitally inverted year of 19-69,
which would be 19-96, and then came the
wild PCN-231-PRIZE PATROL-K.J. MCALLISTER 'dream' in 1997 that
shortly followed the wild experience where the Almighty SARAH J.
KRASSLE told me, “Let's play a game called Guess the Name of the
Guests”. We are not forgetting for a single second all the rest of
it, merely for sake of saving time, I am not including elucidations
and numerous details of so many other wild experiences that have
absolutely no rational explanation for their happening to me, along
this incredible and unfathomable time line pattern, such as my being
taken back to my high school and having my tablet stolen from me that
had newspaper print that changed magically, like when I asked my
father in 1962 in Quakertown, Pennsylvania, how this was done, before
I knew that you had to go to a store each day and simply purchase the
next day's fucking newspaper, and of course, not getting all
completely succinct about the song that Merry had sung to me in that
Prize Patrol dream, later recorded at BonJovi's Florida Studio, tony,
cousin of John, right in my county, Saint Lucie, and when Lightning
Goddess Diana Z. Arteemis came over and played with the power during
the recording session, as was all told in real time as it went down
from the first several years of the previous damn decade, yo
BRRRRRRRR! And then came the 'dreams' eleven years after 1997 also.
We all remember this, as some powerful intergalactic FAWCE was
obviously enjoying all of this incredible GASME-GODS-GAME being
played, and being BLOGGED out to a public network called the WORLD
WIDE WEB, later shortened to the Interconnected Networking System,
shortened again to simply the DAMN “INTERNET”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If
another DAMN “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE” is naut in order here, I'll eat
me' mother fucking shirt at the speed of light, SQUARED! Then, after
both me' mouth and me' shirt are converted into 'ENERGY' as a result,
then we would really all have some shit to talk about, would WE
NAUT, MIZZ AT&T BLAKE, MAHM? So mahm, we won't even
touch “THE SONG from those times, will we, after damn all yo, we
don't want any Library of Congress Head Librarians to, as Detective
Green puts it so great, “LOSE THEIR
DAMN JOBS” over this!
'Boy
oh boy oh boy'; Saturday was REAL/E DAMN
DOGTOWN here in me' apartment, with those noisy
'ILLEEEEEEEEEEEEGAL' COUSINS across from me at #608, the ones
who love to really mother fucking SLAM THEIR GODDAMN DOOR OVER AND
OVER, AT ALL HOURS OF THE DAMN DAY AND NIGHT, YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO, SHERIFF K.J.M. Like this is really
damn-ass “weedeekawuss”
Admiral Perry.
I'll always hear you in me' mind, telling me about how planes have so
many restrictions, and must follow so many rules while flying, in
what you referred to in 1988
in our telephone conversation, as the “National
Air-Space-System”. So why wouldn't you respond to me'
country music singer pal turned Federal-congressman's official
letterhead letter to you, back in 1996? I had the two assistants to
him, Mister Phil Patru and Mister Steve Petersen, inform you of so
many violations of what you told me doesn't happen; back when we
spoke over the phone and I was residing on West Central Avenue, in
Moorestown, and when your niece who turned out so nice, and wasn't so
nice to me nine years later, was only in grammar school, yo. Of
course, I know what the score is. The secret agencies are above the
law just as is the president of the united States, and they can all
go and do anything they want to, and the country that I once knew and
loved as a boy, has already been totally and completely wrecked and
destroyed beyond repair; and despite what Prosecutor Wirtz Senior
told me, that this is not the nation that is doing all of these damn
horrendous criminal things to me, we all know that it is, since it
was also you who told me that the big powerful business interests,
and I am quoting Ron Wirtz here, “They have buddies in the
military”! He told me this right after I asked him why he would say
that to me, when obviously the aerial harassment is coming from
powerful military aircraft's for the most part, as well as so many
private planes. Speaking of the aerial persecution yo, SATURDAY was
one of those days where NAUT ONLY was I persecuted big ass fucking
cunt time by door slamming ILLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGAL COUSINS FROM
UNIT 608, but also many crash level small airplanes were all over
this non PATTY-HOLLISTER-BUILDING,
especially shortly before it got dark, somewhere around the final
hour of daylight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Human
beings do not need to be aware and I am convinced they are normally
NAUT aware one wee small bit, they are are being endlessly USED
IN THESE ROTTEN DAMN GASME-GODS-GAMES,
right down to the two peeps I have discussed in many varying ways as
I got braver after remembering more and more shit from me' past,
PATTY AND MERRY! Doing things
covertly and using human beings for their ASTRAL-PLANE “late late
show” so to speak, is much more efficiently accomplished by keeping
those who these COINS AND COILS use, in the goddamn dark. This also
is true in human life, right here on the Physical-Plane, and we all
know thisssssss, lovely
Erica Snakes Kane, do we 'NAUT'? SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!
Now
here is a powerful fucking item never told to anyone ever, NAUT
ON ANY BLOG, but Saturday's siege really fucking pissed me
off, so 'here we GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO'; oh great 'job-keeping COPYRIGHT
EXAMINERS', and endless haters of all included little yellow sheets
of paper! John Colorado Henningsen was a very heavy sleeper, and
sometimes while in his apartment in the late sixties, he would drink
a large case of beer and fall asleep while I cleaned up his apartment
for twenty-five cents an hour. Times were so different back then and
today's population unless very elderly, don't even have an ability to
relate to such a seemingly small wage for good hard work, or how he
would drive me back to 125-A Haddon Hills Apartments a mile or so
away, bombed and loaded out of his scull and swerving quite a bit,
but this was not a serious traffic offense in those times unless of
course you caused a bad accident and hurt or killed someone while
drunk, and of course, times began to quickly change, but let me stick
with the late fucking nineteen-sixties here, yo folks! When I was
done working I would try to wake John up and it took a quarter hour
of shaking him and yelling and blasting his small transistor radio,
practically right in his ear. One time however, I thought he would
not wake up, and I checked his pulse, and even though I was only an
adolescent, I had a buddy who taught me how to take a pulse in
various places, and I was perfectly able to do this. So on this
occasion I took his pulse and he had no pulse, and I was about to get
on his phone to call an operator to have the cops rush over, and he
woke up and all was fine, and I ignored it and chalked it up to over
drinking and my somehow fucking up the taking of his pulse. But on
another occasion following this one about six months later, a time
when he had absolutely nothing to drink and even told me that he was
going to stop at the Haddonfield Liquors on Haddon Avenue and take me
home by way of Crystal Lake Avenue instead of the normal route of
using Park Avenue and going up to Pyle Avenue from there. He was all
out of his beer, and he was stone cold sober, but he had fallen
asleep while again I spent nearly three and a half hours cleaning up
his whole apartment, as he was quite a pig, as most bachelor men are,
let's keep it real here, Bob Radio
Songsplayinginguardhouses Schleigh. I attempted to wake him,
and again, I shook him violently, blasted his radio practically into
his ear, and again, he was totally dead, and again, I felt for a
pulse. THERE WAS NO 'DAMN' PULSE, Senator. I have always remembered
thinking to myself, that in the cold days of winter, when we would be
out somewhere together; he would talk to me, and unlike anyone else
I had ever known; I never ever could see any breath coming out of his
mouth no matter how damn icy cold it was. Yes, he did wake up after
about twenty minutes of major screaming and loud radios and shaking
him really hard on his bed, BUTTTTTTTT, BIG
ASS BUT people, he did not seem to
have a pulse, and he did not ever appear to breath. Once when
we went to the Haddonfield High School, on King George's Highway
right next door to the COOLEY HALL
where I was attending, as in those times, it was perfectly legal to
go and jog on their football field running track, and he loved to jog
a mile every day unless he was not in town and away on secret
business traveling the world, supposedly for the mighty Campbell's
Soup Company. After he did his mile jog on one particular
day, I noticed that he was not one tiny bit out of breath. The man
simply did not seem to breath, nor did he seem to have a heartbeat. I
thought of this as I always do when a particular episode of 'STAR
TREK' is aired, with a dude named Captain Tracy, who goes
nuts, and tries to talk Captain kirk into joining his venture of
selling an immortality formula, that he mistakenly thought was
discovered on a planet he was marooned on. This episode aired just
last Saturday evening at ten at night on the “ME-TV”
Network. Towards the end, he tries to trick some villagers
into thinking that Mister Spock was the devil and used his ears, and
then also told them that “He has no heart”. Doctor McCoy tried to
tell everyone that he is a Vulcan and that they have their hearts on
the opposite side of the chest as do other humanoid life forms. Each
time I see that show, it reminds me of the pulse-less and breath-less
Sir John Henningsen, my Organizational BB (Big Brother) from the
Philadelphia Big Brother's Organization, now renamed to Big Brothers
and Big Sisters, of course. Still, I have witnessed some strange
things in my life, and I absolutely know for a fact that many people
are living here amongst us WHO ARE NOT HUMAN BEINGS, and I always
watch for such things as ridiculous amounts of extra physical
strength for their size and gender, I always watch for the breath of
people on cold days which I no longer can do here in Florida because
it is only cold enough to do this rarely, and then, only in the early
morning times when I am still sleeping. This is why I get so nervous
when shit happens to me such as that GIANT
PUSSY ATTACK on the Atlantic
City beach in 2009,
when suddenly out of fucking cunt nowhere, an entire gang of seven or
eight or nine young women around mid twenties, all at least seven
feet tall, literally three heads higher than me, were just there and
staring right at me. When I run into people with the physical
strength of fucking Superman, or any other extremely unusual
characteristic; well, forgive me if I begin to get all weird and
paranoid, AFTER ALL OF THE FUCKING NIGHTMARE CRAZY BULLSHIT THAT I
HAVE GONE THROUGH FOR THE PAST HALF CENTURY NOW, MINIMUM, SINCE I WAS
SOMEWHERE AROUND THE AGE OF 15 DAMN YEARS OF AGE, YO YO YO YO
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MOUNTAINPEN'S
LUNAR PHASES CHART:
MONDAY,
JANUARY 27, 2020
CURRENT
PHASE IS:
WANING
CRESCENT 3:6
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.
I
am doing me' very best to carry that weight for a long time, Mister
Marcucci. Any help from “BEYOND” sir, would be greatly damn
appreciated!
END
TRANSMISSION.
“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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
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”!!!
Digging
Underneath Jersey Diners and Wild Songs From 16 Year Old Dreams
Public Catalog |
|
Search
Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W
|
|
Search
Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.
|
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
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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
|
Where
are you when I need you; Mister Marcucci, James Bond, and Your
Highness? Adorable kids, yo!
LINKS
TO MY ORIGINAL BLOGS OF THE BOM:
Yessir,
great Sir Chester-Frank; a big ass
“WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
4U!!!!!!!
“THE
END”; all
lovely savants!
No comments:
Post a Comment