THE BEGINNING, AND SMELLING 'GOUUUUUUUD'

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4:15 POST MERIDIAN

LATE SATURDAY AFTERNOON

21 MARCH, 2020

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

THE TORTURE AND SLOW MURDER

CHAPTER 45

MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASES CHART:

SATURDAY, MARCH 21, 2020

CURRENT PHASE IS:

WANING CRESCENT 5:7

N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 WNC7 N.M.

Well, I knew that the medication problems would be bad, as they always are when the 'MILITUFORCE ENEMIES' HAVE AN “EXCUSE” TO CAUSE ME A MAJOR MOTHER FUCKING NASTY ASS PROBLEM. Tom Cruise and his great jet fighter movie from somewhere in the late nineteen-eighties will endlessly resurface for me, so it seems. Originally and as I stated before, it was back last damn Tuesday when the Walgreen's place treated me like cow shit over at Ohio Avenue and Route 1 Federal Highway. Then on Wednesday, I had a great talk with a very nice lady at my HUMANA INSURANCE Company, by the name of Martha. It is an interesting parallel here too, you know; as in Wash your hands viruses, wash your hands ultimate fighter David, wash your hands Washington, and the great GEORGE himself, with his lovely wife MARTHA. But back to the show here, CALL-TEN-AT&T Miss Blake, mahm, with no further references to the endlessly haunting, and ever true, JAMES REDFIELD SYNCHRONICITY SYNDROME!!!!!!! On top of all my other mother fucking issues and woes, THIS BUSTED MOTHER FUCKING CUNT EATING SPACE BAR ON MY KEYBOARD, IS MAKING ME CRAZIER THAN A TON OF BIRD SHIT CUBED! So anyway, back to the medication problem: All I wanted to do is be sure that I have a good supply of the five meds that I faithfully take daily, for various issues related to normal old age. I was told by Martha, that she had spoken to the Walgreen's and that I was supposed to go over the next morning to pick up a 90-day supply of all three of them. When I did not receive my normal phone notice from Walgreen's the following morning, I decided not to go over. When I did go on the following day, only three were ready and they were not 90 day supplies, maybe one was, another was 30 and another 60 or something, I forget now. Today I was called again by the phone-message to come get the meds. But this time, the other two were still not there, one of the two was there and only a thirty day supply. I WAS PROMISED ORIGINALLY, BACK ON WEDNESDAY, THAT ON THURSDAY, ALL FIVE MEDS WOULD BE GIVEN TO ME WITH NINETY DAY SUPPLIES. Again, and AS ALWAYS WITH ME, promises are always endlessly broken. If I on the other hand, made promises, and then kept breaking them over and over; I guarantee anyone of you out here, I WOULD BE BEHIND MOTHER FUCKING PRISON BARS, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yessir world, it is always perfectly fucking cunt okay to lie to Mark Wayne Mohr and treat Mark Wayne Mohr like total endless fucking dog shit for Crissake! This is why I know that I am suffering under what I have labeled here in my Morianity, the HUNTINGTON CURSE!!!!!!!!!!!!

As if things don't fucking cunt such stenchy shit enough with so many endless woe-wiz-me's in this rotten life of endless fucking DOGTOWN-ON-EARTH (DOE) for short; I am under a nasty mother fucking afternoon SKY CHEMTRAIL ASSAULT here in town!!!!!!!!!!! Ladies and gentlemen; allow and permit me if you goddamn please, to tell all of you a really gargantuan and absolutely totally HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE mother fucking item here; and then go onto expound a wee bit on the truths behind why I talk so much about 1983, Goddess Diana Arteemis, Atco in New Jersey-USA, my wild ever-unexplained choking and medical condition that was given to me on 6-4-1983, and my wild musical projects done by me while living there and sent to the United States © Copyright Office that one of the three groups of them was called and titled, “Saga of Songwriter Mark Mud”!!!!!!!!!!!!! Boy oh boy oh boy George, and maybe Martha too, or at least all George's everywhere, to quote me' wonderful and talented, but ever so greedy as all dogshit, then thirteen year old daughter, for crying out loud, yo!!!!!!!!!!!

Public Catalog

Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

[ 13 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Saga of song writer Mark Mud.

PAu000501582

1983

AND WITH OR WITHOUT ANY ASSISTS FROM ALLMIGHTY COMCAST, WHOM TRUMP MOVES ONE KEY TO THE LEFT ON THE MAGICAL PRE-PROGRAMMED TYPING KEYBOARD THAT SOME GODS-GASME-GAMERS KNEW ABOUT LONG BEFORE EVEN MOTHER FUCKING '83!

Most people, despite all of these wild never ending clue-coincidences built into the LAWTRONIC-COSMOS-SYSTEM, consider this to all be a part of the “magical thinking process of mental illness”, and of one particular psych feature that the APA names, those afflicted with paranoid delusions, and psychosis features of schizophrenia. Hey, go ahead and stay stupid everybody, should that be your choice. Mashell Daniels, three years earlier than the date shown above (1980), told me at my job at the RPL Sound Studio Labs, in Camden, New Jersey, USA; this following great unforgettable statement that haunts me to into present times nearly 40 years later almost to the day now, “Mark, You're entitled to your opinion”! Well gee whiz willagars lovely Mashell, “THANK-UUUUUUUUUUUU, and thank your great Harlem friends up at the Hill”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This all reminds me of the days of that copyrighted music project shit, three years later in 1983, with the mighty pal of Sir Count Marcucci, and whose name we all know and love, and who also, a famous American Astronaut's daughter was really pissed off at, during the days of the great Apollo-13 space-shot; good old Sir Paul McCartney. I was always telling beautiful Diana that “Girl, I love you so bad”! Then along came McCartney's great tune, and even letting me know that he and the late Marcucci knew long before any of this even happened, how I would come to go through all of these things, that all st into motion the incredible incidents one by one, starting with Marcucci's murder in Manhattan, shortly after my wild interaction with PINK GODDESS and LOIS FOCA the magical song from 'somewhere' beyond this world here, and then one by one leading into all the other things as well, right down to me loving her so bad, huh Mister McCartney? Yes old pal, just when I found the perfect one, the one who would love me so, just when she found me, the one who would never let her go. Is this when the hands of time ran out, lovely Amy from Cooley Hall, when the curtains closed the show? Would all of these things along with my love for LIGHTNING, keep burning with ETERNALFLOW? Yes it seems so damn unfair that the script runs bare, and no one will ever really know!!!!!!!!! Oh precious girl, I need you so, and I know that you need me too. I do not want to go away, and leave my baby blue. Well, I thought that I was a goner and that this wild crazy shit would kill me back there in 1983, old buddy PAUL!!!!!! But here I am still, and I have yet TO FALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So please remind the great Arista Record Company of al of thissssssssssssssssssssss, willya' lovely Erica Snakes Cane for crying out VERY VERY loudly in the name of Jesus demons, and Cifaloglio DEMOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Right about now I can hear lovely Lilly Munster, or Evyone or whatever her real name is; saying, “TEE HEE HEE”!!!!!!!!! So GEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HA-HA-HA as well as Mizz Munster's laugh here, miserable wicked witch JANE. U missed me! Still on page 12 of 12, I will post up some great wonderful awesome five groupation here for all to see and witness now, so WEEDEEKAWUSS and WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Phyllis Alexander “my elbow”, if I can quote wonderful “L&O” Manhattan D.A. Sir Adam Schiff here! Or to quote an even more apropos person right about now, lovely 1985 Mizz Margie Leo of Woodbury Heights, NJUSAESMWG; “Cut me a break”!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Yes if and when the world survives all of this shit going on now, we can get back to a lot of wild stuff about 1983. When my blogs were relatively new, I talked a lot about the eighties, and then somewhat about the sixties, and still rarer, the nineties and the opening part of this incredible mother fucking twenty-first century. I seemed to be missing a lot of shit that was more fantastic than all the rest all put together. In a parallel dimension, my daughter Merry came to me and told me that I should be blogging more about THE SEVENTIES. She was right. BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT, and a great big and HUUUUUUUUGE BIG ASS BUTT here and but, yo yo yo; I need to really talk in great length about one year, and that is 1983, and the wild shit mentioned at the start of this blog. This won't be done today on this chapter 45 of torture and murder. It will however be talked about very soon, and in really new and powerful ways. Every damn night, I am either back at Jenny's fuckign rotten trailer park in Mullica New Jersey, or in Atlantic City New Jersey, and sometimes they both are part of the very same “DREAM” and last night was no goddamn mother fucking exception. We will get into a lot more shit later on, concerning all of these things and just exactly how the dreams all tie in as well. Here in the present, Mountainpen and Morianity calls this TOWEL-SEEPAGE-EFFECTS OF HYPERSPACE or TSE of 5^th-D-HS, but back several thousand years earlier into the history of human kind, it was called BILBLICAL PROPHECY, and the great GODS-CODES of the games of all of these things, when many biblical fucking prophets appeared to also be taught about HSM and DREAMS, and high school or musical plays done there had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with anything, OR DID IT, via and through that endlessly magical and ever present JRSS? If old George Burns and little Tracy were only both here after doing that shoot in the great movie we all loved once, called “OH GOD”, wow, I can just hear George saying it, “OR IS IT”?!!!

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JULY 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5-----WEEK 0

6 7 8 9 10 11 12----WEEK 1

13 14 15 16 17 18 19----WEEK 2

20 21 22 23 24 25 26----WEEK 3

27 28 29 30 31

AUGUST 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2----WEEK 4

3 4 5 6 7 8 9----WEEK 5

10 11 12 13 14 15 16---WEEK 6

17 18 19 20 21 22 23---WEEK 7

24 25 26 27 28 29 30---WEEK 8

SEPTEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6-----WEEK 9

7 8 9 10 11 12 13----WEEK 10

14 15 16 17 18 19 20----WEEK 11

21 22 23 24 25 26 27----WEEK 12

28 29 30

OCTOBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4--------WEEK 13

5 6 7 8 9 10 11-------WEEK 14

12 13 14 15 16 17 18-------WEEK 15

19 20 21 22 23 24 25-------WEEK 16

26 27 28 29 30 31

NOVEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1--------WEEK 17

2 3 4 5 6 7 8--------WEEK 18

9 10 11 12 13 14 15-------WEEK 19

16 17 18 19 20 21 22-------WEEK 20

23 24 25 26 27 28 29-------WEEK 21

DECEMBER 1969

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6----------WEEK 22

7 8 9 10 11 12 13---------WEEK 23

14 15 16 17 18 19 20---------WEEK 24

21 22 23 24 25 26 27---------WEEK 25

28 29 30 31

JANUARY 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3-----------WEEK 26

4 5 6 7 8 9 10----------WEEK 27

11 12 13 14 15 16 17----------WEEK 28

18 19 20 21 22 23 24----------WEEK 29

25 26 27 28 29 30 31----------WEEK 30

FEBRUARY 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7------------WEEK 31

8 9 10 11 12 13 14-----------WEEK 32

15 16 17 18 19 20 21-----------WEEK 33

22 23 24 25 26 27 28-----------WEEK 34

MARCH 1970

S. M. T. W. T. F. S.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7-------------WEEK 35

8 9 10 11 12 13 14------------WEEK 36

15 16 17 18 19 20 21------------WEEK 37

22 23 24 25 26 27 28------------WEEK 38

29 30 31

Cut me a break here, Marge Leo, yo!

END TRANSMISSION & SMELLING GOUUUUD.

THE BEGINNING, AND SMELLING 'GOUUUUUUUD'

1:30 POST MERIDIAN

FRIDAY MORNING

20 MARCH, 2020

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

THE TORTURE AND SLOW MURDER

CHAPTER 44

MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASES CHART:

FRIDAY, MARCH 20, 2020

CURRENT PHASE IS:

WANING CRESCENT 4:7

N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 WNC7 N.M.

Well it ain't 12-12-12, or eleven-eleven-eleven, or 8-8-88, or 8-8-8, but people; it is another 20-20-20 day, and for another 18 times, I will have to be concerned with either month days of the second and the twentieth. If we include the twenty-second as well, with nine months remaining for all the 02, 20, and 22 days, that will total out to be 27 more of these dates in 2020 where the entire numerical date is composed of 'zero' and 'two' digits. In any case, I can only concern myself with one day at a time. For another 22 and a half hours, I am in this monthly occurring 20-20-20 date, until Saturday midnight rolls the hell around.

The dude who came over to see how I was doing that morning and knocked on my door to check on me about a year ago or so now, that I blogged about; was at the lobby-desk when that idiot by the name of George, burst into this building with his gun the other early morning. I suppose I am mistaken when I think the worst things only happen to me, as I did not have to directly confront that asshole nut case. He told me that the huge bus like vehicle was a supplies bus that the county uses in emergencies. I never in all my days have seen anything like it. Yes, at least I was relatively safe inside my apartment. This poor guy on the other hand was right there with that maniac George. There will be community meetings on the following two weeks, and I plan to go to at least one of them. While stuck in this nightmare place, I need to remain proactive about my situation and tenancy here at this NON-PATTY-HOLLISTER-BUILDING, Mister Redfield sir! My very best to all of your pals from Peru.

I am going to straighten out one big thing here and now concerning these blogs and what they truly are about. The one word that pertains to this is in the very start of every single one of them, HARASSMENT. These things that happen to me continuously are for the most part totally invisible, while few are more direct. This of course is why I never can get real help from any of the authorities around me. I understand both their situation as well as my dilemma completely. That doesn't mean that I am not totally fucking pissed off at this. The last goddamn time I checked, I was a flesh and blood human being with feelings and normal emotions. This will bring me to a recent situation, and this is only the most recent of ongoing shit around me ever since I was old enough to realize there was time and calendars.

I told how I was treated badly at my local pharmacy several days ago. The following day, Wednesday, I called my health insurance peeps at Humana. I eventually reached a very nice and helpful agent, but originally, the first person acted the very same way that the Walgreen's place did, as if I was some lunatic for even checking out my potential problem with getting my needed medications during these times of this wicked fuckign global pandemic from the Corona Virus-ID #19-Strain. The hackers have my fucking SPACE-BAR-HACK going full force today. What a bunch of nutty pricks! But this second person made sure that I would get a supply of the five meds that I take. I was told to pick it up the following day after nine in the morning, Thursday. But when I got there around eleven or so, they only had three of the five, and only partial supplies of the full amount that was originally promised me. They say that today, Friday, the rest will be there. We will see. Still, I was made to feel like some crackpot nut just for practicing what the news people tell us all to do, as far as getting advanced meds in unison with the new suggested “social distancing”, also talked about on al news broadcasts. The last agent did not act like this, but all the peeps at the Walgreen's place did, as well as the first lady whom I originally spoke to at Humana. All my life, I do what people tell me to do, and all I get for it is major mistreatment and being labeled totally nuts and county crackpot. Now with the age of the internet, we can alter the word county to the entire globe I would suppose, at least if the mighty know it all Mizz Listener Therese of WFMU has anything to say about it. Yes people,my fuckign SHIFT BAR on this keyboard is cunt lapping totally shot and in need of replacement. When I try to make it work, it is all fucked up and many times I get a weird stupid pop up screen, asking if I want to turn on some dumb ass feature. Being dirt fucking poor all your life is a real mother fucking barrel of goddamn laughs, yo!

It seems that my pal Mike has a source of information that eludes me, and he never really tells me where he gets his shit from, seemingly ahead of the curve so often. He tells me he rarely reads papers, or watches news; and he is an old timer who is even dumber than me on things concerning the online world, so he definitely doesn't get it from the net. Still, all magical kingdoms aside, I heard my distant cuzz talking just yesterday around noon, about that drug that Mike pronounced, and it was the same thing. Some people just seem to always be ahead of things. Me, count me as someone who is always a step or two behind mother fucking shit, and I know that this is done to me by forces FAR BEYOND MY CONTROL!!!!!!!!!!

Some things never get old. Some things said on the BOM blogs, never ever go out of style, and they have endless sleeper effects, sometimes taking that word SLEEPER in more ways than just one, and for a perfect example, we have this: That night, watching those 'Star Trek' shows, while living at 112 Harvard Avenue, Somerdale, New Jersey, USA, Earth, Sol, Milky Way Galaxy, in 1996, in the autumn, on the 30^th Anniversary of their TELEVISION SHOW PRODUCTION LAUNCH; memories flooded in, that I could not handle; leading to the wild dreams the following year, of the Publishing Clearinghouse's PCN-231 PRIZE-PATROL truck, with that co-ed named K. J. McAllister, who won that January of 1997; and then the wild song that led to the 2012 production and 2013 Copyright, of “Wanna' Spend My Time”, the fence at Eden's great garden, and a lot more. This is when I was looking nearby the television set, little as it may have been Mizz Britney Lavino, and Mister Stanley Crooked Bernstein; and as that great voted-number-1 episode of STAR TREK was airing, suddenly a voice kept saying, while I was staring off of the TV set, and onto my venetian blinds, “Sarah Kessle, Sarah Kessle”. In any event, where can we even begin with all of this horrible nightmare shit, Sheriff sir; after these monsters took away my entire life, child and adult, ruined my entire mother fucking education, threw me into an institution at ten years of age, for doing nothing at all wrong or criminal, the great and now defunct NJNPI, in Princeton, New Jersey, USA, sir; killed my mother late in 1997, killed my best and only adult friend, Dave Roth, in March of 2002; and I could type on, and on, and on; as if you could care in the least, kind sir; you and Prosecutor Ron Worthless Wirtz!!! As I said sir, this is why people eventually fucking snap, and do shit like the Colorado deal, and on and on and on and on! Now, the old trustworthy Milituforce Word-Disappearing mother fucking hack was just used on me illegally, in total violation of MY CIVIL AND HUMAN LIBERTIES sir, as a totally born free and legal citizen of this rotten nation, SIR! As for being ahead or behind the curves of life in some outlandish and endlessly existing circumstance; there are always possible ideas for explaining surreal and weird shit, but I right now, have absolutely nothing whatsoever to add in heredahelda or IN HERE, Mister Microsoft SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, some things will always stand out like a sore tooth in al of this entire STORY OF THE MOUNTAINPEN. Another sore tooth part is the medically connected reality between my daughter and myself, as well as how things all seemingly get set up in the year of 1983, by forces who either have total control over what we mortals call TIME, or else as I suspect, my daughter actually is secretly, PINK GODDESS all along. Yes peeps, not last night but the night before, AGAIN I was on the goddamn beaches of Atlantic City, NJUSAESMWG, and AGAIN wild shit was happening. Rarely is it night time in these “DREAMS”, and this was one of those times. At a more opportune time, and hopefully soon; I'll get into all of this more specifically. This is by no means a blog about Merry. This is a blog about all of my interactions with the Astral Plane, and lovely Mommy-Patty showed me how to access this “locale” with her great FASCITAR wisdom, although done IMHO, very spuriously in an extremely cloak and dagger covert way, as all of you know! Yessir, someone or some thing out here somewhere, Captain fucking Kirk Almighty, appears to want to ENDLESSLY KEEP ME BLIND AND BEHIND THE CURVES FOREVER, because should I ever be released from that ultimate condition of negativity, I would be able to once and for all, expose the truths of everything, to this entire Earth-Planet population. Go ahead peeps, make sense out of why the great Disney people were all so damn interested in me' goddamn music? And then tell me that there is no ultimate and quintessential fucking connections to this, and my “BURN WITH FIRE” 1969 song that I always dreamed of lovely Mizz PHHH singing for me some day! The damn Hyper-Space-Mechanics of the Disney's High School Musical shows of James Redfield, will always deafeningly echo in me' mother fucking ears!

CHRIS, ED, AND THE MILITUFORCE BLOGAUD

CHAPTER 4

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AS THE BRADY'S WOULD SAY, IT'S TIME TO CHANGE AND REARRANGE. Well, maybe someday, I too will be able to do that, if of course I can ever stop going back to myself on that damn train in-between the Westmont and the Haddonfield stations in February of 1969. Does anyone realize why I go into that incredible and absolutely otherwise completely unexplainable “BITTER STAGE” each time around?????????? Only this makes it all MAKE SENSE! I know that deep down, to quote Mister non Robin Hill Robinnette of 'L&O', you all know this too!!!!!

[ 26 ]

Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-

Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.

PAu000204016

1980

The Morning Light was the title to this 1979 written song, the lyrics to it that is, as the melody was composed several years earlier. Just why the great and illustrious United States © Copyright Office left out the (THE) in the title, is anyone's guess. As for the leaving out of the numeric (18) in this title song,

[ 3 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Karaoke Lunch Break At The Sorian 18 Guard House. (Number added in on blog copy only, not on actual form!

PAu003351785

2007

Well, that is anyone best guest's GUESS, BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT folks, and I mean BIG ASS BUTT BUT people yo; I was told by someone in Florida about seven years ago in Port Saint Lucie, at the great now defunct Avalon Recording Studio just off of Bayshore Boulevard; owned by Sir Tony BonJovi, who spells his name differently of course; that most likely this was done in the “interests of national security” after the 911 incident and the Twin Towers attack by Mister Bin laden. It had to do with a question number on a test for security officers so that they would be licensed in each state. Before the days of the post 911 terror assault on Manhattan, guards did not need to be licensed by law, other than by their employers who needed of course to have a Private Detective License. It also has to do with major word-processing hacking and computer hacking in general,long before we ever saw this on our news feeds on a near daily mother fucking occurrence, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Long story made quite short, almost anything that the controllers want to do, can be done by saying that it is being done in the INTERESTS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY. This is all a part of how the FISA ACT grew wings on steroids, also after the great day of terror in 2001. Every time that I re-watch that episode on the “L&O” TV-SHOW, called “CITY HALL”, which aired not that many hours ago on the great 'SUNDANCE-CABLE-CHANNEL'; it brings back how at least two if not more times in my adult life, my residence was illegally broken into while I was out, by FEDERAL AGENTS with FISA WARRANTS, and things were done to my phone, my electronic apparatuses, and on and on I could go here, folks. On the TV show, they don't tell you that they can also break your stuff and GET GET AWA WITH IT. Wonderful; people running our great nation,huh world?????????????? This of course will lead me into our final topic of today's mother fucking blog, yo BRAH!

I lived through many wild things in the world of American politics, from Nixon's dirty tricks and White House taping/bugging with open reel tapes in those days, to shortly thereafter with the Iranian Hostage situation and the 444 days of non-Harlem addresses all leading up to this powerful Republican take over and RULE. There were the gas shortages when in truth , there were NO SHORTAGES, in the middle and then again in the late nineteen-seventies. There was the ABDULA SCAM of the very county I was living in, Sir Wirtz, there was literally dozens of total hoax and bullshit items, and it led me to remember and believe that things like shortages and even plagues, are usually not just happening for no reason, but rather, there is always the 'Anna Hopkins L&O Syndrome' going on somewhere cleverly and well hidden behind some unfathomable OZ CURTAINS. I am not accusing anyone of anything. I am merely saying that I do not NECESSARILY believe that this virus that is plaguing us all right now in current day times, is what it seems to be, and not being literally created intentionally, for some very sinister and usually political reasons. Now I am sure that many conspiracy theories out there are abounding and with all of this. Al I am saying here is that I have lived through enough dogshit now, to know that I will not ever be willing to just blindly trust that SHIT JUST HAPPENS, to quote my EX-BIZZ partner, Mister STUDIO PARK RECORDS Pedersen! Just think about this, people. So tell Detective Green that I wouldn't say no right now, to seeing that dude's palm-pilot.

Reagan said it all, yo. “Trust, BUT VERIFY”!

THE END AND SOMETHING SMELLS GOUUUD!

THE BEGINNING, AND SMELLING 'GOUUUUUUUD'

11:39 POST MERIDIAN

TUESDAY NIGHT

17 MARCH, 2020

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASES CHART:

TUESDAY, MARCH 17, 2020

CURRENT PHASE IS:

WANING CRESCENT 1:7

N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 WNC7 N.M.

HAPPY SAINT PATTYS DAY.

This was a nasty fucking botbar day. Not a SUPER BOTBAR, but yes people, a nasty botbar. A 'BOTBAR' means BOTTOM OF THE BARREL ALREADY RATED day. The difference is something you would need to be me and walking in my mocks to truly under fucking stand, but allow me just try and explain this a wee bit to yalls, yo! A major nasty huge event or events needs to all go down to make a day what I would call a SUPER BOTBAR DAY. A nasty botbar just mean the day stinks and has lots of very unpleasant and annoying things just keep ganging up on me all goddamn fucking day long. So here is my day today, my NASTY FUCKING BOTBAR DAY, PEEPS, YO BRAH!!!!!!!!!

I woke up at shortly past two this afternoon, showered, and went out on a couple of local errands. First I mailed my US CENSUS at the local post office. After hand delivering it to the lady inside at the counter since all of the mail drops are gone now due to criminals and 'fishing' and not for fucking fish; I walked out towards the door to the building and along a long corridor, and some dirtbag man came flying in the door, almost knocks ME DOWN, and I like a dummy fool said, “EXCUSE ME”, and this fucking prick ignored me completely. The way SENIORS ARE TREATED HERE IN FLORIDA, TO QUOTE MY GODDAMN NON RUSSELL HADDON AVENUE DAUGHTER, FROM EARLY IN 2009, “IS DIS-GGGGUUUUSTING”. Florida is a very nasty fucking place to live, as back in Jersey, I wasn't ever treated this bad, even under my mother fucking unfathomably terrible damn HUNTINGTON CURSE. Then I drove over to the local Ohio Avenue Walgreen's Store to quickly ask the pharmacists there if I need to be concerned about any medicine shortages resulting from the C-Virus situation. I was treated very rotten, basicly told they cannot help me or promise me anything. I am just about to switch my service out away from them. I have been a loyal Walgreen's fucking customer, and I feel that I mother fucking deserve just a luttle bit better and nicer service as a SENIOR person who is naturally disturbed and curious if I will be adversely effected. I told them that I have experienced shortages before on many occasions without even having any pandemic or world problems happening. I made a good point. Also, you see on the TV and the news all the time about requesting some extra prescription drug supplies as a result of the new expression called, SOCIAL DISTANCING, also resulting from this rotten goddamn global pandemic C-Virus. But let me try and do what the authority tells me to do, and I get treated like mother fucking total dog shit for doing it. This is absolutely wicked and beyond UNFAIR. So I leave the Walgreen's after purchasing some food items there and avoiding the larger crowds over at me' local Publix Grocery Store, and drive back home. When I get back, I am walking down the hallway towards my apartment here on the sixth floor, and all is quiet as a church mouse with laryngitis and wearing cotton moccasins. But the second that I enter me' apartment and shut the door, and I shut my door as quietly as a graveyard conversation of midnight tenants, and BOOM, on goes that dirt hole's BOOMBOX, and it was on and off until shortly past six somewhere, for nearly three hours. Now I can live with it when he keeps that extra fucking five decibels or so off, but when he really cranks up, and my walls start shaking; that is when I will call 911, and I have been told to do this, and especially after ten of the clock PM, since our township noise ordinance kicks in at that time. Also today, I was just too tired to keep a morning appointment with my pal Kev. We were going to go over to the office to see Angel, about why they won't even let me talk to them about applying for a transfer into a quieter place, such as the Circle Green or whatever name that place is, or the twin building six blocks or so down further away north, on Seventh Street. Tuesday mornings are good days for him, and so next Tuesday, hopefully, I will merely stay up for the day, and go with him, and then come home and crash. Kev did tell me that maybe they know the waiting list is so long that they figure not to even bother talking to me right now, but I still don't think that this is polite or right behavior for business peeps to practice, not even allowing a person a lousy fucking five minute appointment to discuss something, and when all they need to say to me is NO. As I said, all these fucking little annoyances and mild fuck ups on the day all combined, and this is what Mountainpen or ME calls a NASTY BOTBAR DAY, not a super one, but yes, a mother fucking NASTY ONE, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yessir peeps, maybe it was a happy or at least a relatively fucking happy Saint Pat's Day for some or all of you out here, but for me and as always, IT SURELY WAS 'NAUT', MIZZ BLAKE FROM THE AT&T CORPORATION OF 1983. I believe fucking Sir Chester-Frank would be saying right about now, if here with me; “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”. What I will be fucking saying is simply thissssss, lovely Erica Snakes Cane: “SHEEEEEEEIT”!

As for the nabe and his booming subwoofer system over at the 605 Construction Company, so far to date, the office people are ignoring two of me' notes that I have left for them. One is about why I am not getting my re-certification papers and my new annual lease is now just a couple weeks away on April first. The other is my noise complaint note. This second note is still in the drop box and is visible enough for me to see that it is my note, when I walk by to get my mail from the mailbox community room for the building. Death Angel pass-by's are like nothing ever in all my hellish nightmare mother fucking past. I am getting a dozen every single hour, some on the right side of me, some on the left, Oh 'polarized' cosmos! Now lads and lassies and labbers; speaking recently about my transdimensional interconnections with my life here, and then where I appear to be dreaming in, just before coming awake here; and calling this my DADS SHAVER RAZOR SYNDROME; again this has happened about ten times now in just the past fucking days of this month of MARCH. It happened AGAIN last night. I was somewhere with some peeps whom over here I wouldn't fucking know from Adams Animals. There was a very attractive young girl with me and we were working on installing a weird car stereo system in some vehicle. I cannot remember if it was hers or mine or someone else's. In this wild experience, I was trying to get the bottom of why it would keep suddenly GOING ON OUT OF NOWHERE without being turned on, or even without the car engine or accessory switch being on. It happened over and over and I was getting very mad. The same thing today happened when I came home as I said, from me' local fucking errands. Suddenly even though it was not on when I passed Mister Mexico-605's door, poof; it suddenly goes right on, the very second that I get inside of me' apartment, and vely vely quietly, Sir Bob McDowell, close me' door. Also, I am DREAMING almost every single night, that I am in one way or another, back at that goddamn miserable rotten Jenny Plageman's Trailer Park where I lived before the WASHCLOTH FAMILY KIDNAPPING all happened to me. These nightmares to say the least are anything but mother fucking pleasant, but then Admiral Perry sir, what was pleasant about all those MILITUFORCE ASSAULTS given to me, when I would drive by your FAA TECH CENTER, or stop at the local DQ there so that your not so nice niece could make me a Hot Fudge Sundae in 1997, and she could threaten to beat me up? WOW lovely Oprah! But speaking of WILD DREAMS and not those from 1997 or other wild experiences in 1996 'confusing years', with magical future print altering newspaper TABLET shoe-boxes; many times I am dreaming right here in this building, only it is a non localized part of fifth dimensional hyperspace. I don't mean really bizarre distant places, but where peeps as well as the entire structure and architecture of this building is extensively different. Many times I am in a lobby area that is major different than the one here, or I am on the floor that is either one floor above me or one floor below me, the 7^th or the 5^th. No one will ever convince me that there is not a major true 5-D connection in all things, and this is what my Morianity has labeled the TSE (Towel-Seepage-Effect) of the hyperspace, or the fifth dimension that contains virtually limitless 4-D universe cosmos systems of Space-Time-Mind (STM), or all of these all put together, and then laying inside of some inconceivable and gargantuan fabric. Why would I NAUT think of that as the 5^th dimension for crying out fucking loud, yo? And why would I naut believe in towel-seepage-effect, when all of my life, it has happened to me, even before lovely Patty Hollister interacted with me in major ways? Hey, I am just asking anyone who might think that they have all the mother fuckign answers out heredahelda and OUT HERE, MIKE SOFT CORP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So let's talk about the wild dreams I've experienced here in this crazy non PATTY HOLLISTER matching initials BUILDING. Back on Monday afternoon, there was some loud drilling here in the place, and of course assumed that it was coming from next to me at the 605 unit as all noise always does, endlessly. BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT, and a BIG ASS FUCKING CUNT BUTT BUT PEEPS; I was WROOOOOOOOOOOOONG, all lovely great 1980 SHAMPOO COMMERCIAL GIRLS, “EVERYWHERE”, YO YO YO YO YO BRO!!!!!! I walked down the stairs rather than taking the elevator, when I went to go and get my mail, and I first went down to the fifth floor below my floor to see if it was coming from there. It might have been, since the entire area near the stairwell door had all of the cables and junk, all exposed and out of some junction box. This is where the COMCAST peeps need to go when there is a problem concerning shared wiring or whatever, as this seems to be where it all comes into the building. I used to think that all these wires came into a locked room on the Lobby-Floor, but it doesn't. Everything was all messed up and scattered all around, but it wasn't effecting my service. But I was not checking on that, but rather, on the drilling sound. It must have been coming from this as obviously things were being worked on and at that exact time when I got onto the 5^th floor, maybe the workman had to go to his truck or something, who knows? What I do know is that every day there is noise, but on top of that, for the past four weeks or more now, whenever that mother fucking goddamn annoying stock market goes UP, which is about one in three or one in four times now since all this recent horse fucking shit; but this is when this goddamn prick in Mexico-605 BLARES HIS SOUND SYSTEM or uses it. When it is down, I never hear a fucking peep out of him. Now is this just some weird parallel of events, or is HE BEING TOLD TO DO THIS ON MAJOR UP TICK STOCK MARKET DAYS OF THE DJIA, such as yesterday again when the market rallied after that horrendous Monday-BLUES?!!!!! I mean it really does not take an Einstein to know or understand basic odds for things just being a random chance happening of events. The last three really BIG UP DAYS, this is when this prick lets me know he is home and has a big ass boom box, and he USES IT. Not when it was down, but the three days of HUGE UP SWING reactions on the DJIA system. Before you scoff at three times of something such as this, remember the formula for computing odds and chance. It really ain't some complex math equation. Each time that a 50-50 chance event does something, you double the odds, so in other words, if when the DOW is shooting way up and he blares his shit at me, counts as ONE EVENT, then if the next following BIG UP DAY on the DJIA (Wall Street), the same event happens, we double the 1:2 chance to 1:4 chance. The third time it happens, the four digit doubles to an eight digit, or the odds of three times of this become now a one in eight fuckign chance. The next time will be 1:16, and the fifth time would be 1:32, and so forth. It weelwee ain't rocket science complicated, folks. But let us further explore not so much odds for chances to occur but rather just what paralleling events truly may be about. I have labeled these as both VISIBLE PARALLEL EVENTS as well as INVISIBLE PARALLEL EVENTS, and further shortened to VPE verses IPE, pronounced as vippie or ippie. A visible parallel event is something that just plain makes sense for it to happenas a result of what caused it. You walk into a real tough fucking biker bar for example. You stand five feet two inches tall and you weigh a hundred and thirty pounds soaking ass wet. You yell out, “Hey yo, all you jerk off fagot bikers are a bunch of sissy ass mother fucking cocksuckers, who screw their moms every damn day and three times on Sunday”. You slowly walk out of there. Now how many times if this person who did that, who we will call for purposes of mathematics, EVENT-A, would get to their car and safely and quietly get to drive away? In this hypothetical EVENT-A, this is done 100 times. I will be willing to bet that the parallel event of EVENT-B being that getting his ass kicked to shit and back and then some, would result before he gets to drive safely out of that biker bar. Yes, I would bet that 100% or 100 out of all 100 times, the EVENT B of driving safely away would be “NO WAY, HOSEY-JOSEY”. But in keeping things more mathematically real; maybe the parallel event would bell curve down to an eventual long run play experiment number of 98:100 or 99:100. If a parallel event that strong in Roulette, playing the tri-parameter of outside betting strategy system, was ever available; the game of roulette would soon be no longer available at any casino in the world. Visible Parallel Events are of course normally and usually MUCH STRONGER than the invisible ones. Punch a person and more times than not, at least back when I was a young man, would knock you one right back. But when every single time a RED and HIGH roulette number comes out at a particular gaming table where you are playing, causes the remaining ODD-EVEN parameter to favor one over the other outcome in a ratio of at least 4:1; this sets up a momentum in mathematics that has to do with ultra complexities that lay in several parts of higher mathematics, one being the ratio of percentages to linear numeration. I randomly chose the RED and HIGH numbers, but if a player kept track of the entire twelve possible bi-parameter groups, with a small stick figure chart, for the remaining outcome third and in that case being the ODD & EVEN parameter of the 36 non-green roulette numbers; then every time that number 19, 21, 23, 25, 27, 30, 32, 34, or 36 comes out, and let us pick and choose at random here, that our stick figure chart shows the following spin is an EVEN number 5 times and is an ODD number 23 times, then after any of those listed red and high numbers, we would keep betting ODD on the following outcome spin of the wheel. This is of course an invisible parallel event (IPE) as opposed to the biker bar example with the (VPE). Still, anyone doing this with either 100, 500, or 1000 dollar gaming chips, once a parallel event is shown with at least a 4:1 ratio, such as in my example here with the EVEN-ODD; can easily make an average of 5 units profit in an hour or two playing STAND-UP roulette at any gaming house, and yes, in LONG RUNNING PLAY, forever and ever, beating the established 5.26% legal gaming VIG by approximately 1.74%. This may seem very small, but ask any fucking pro-gambler if it is, when you understand the leverage of playing for a few high money value chips three or four days a week in your spare time, and winning maybe a dozen or more chips that could be as much as twelve grand weekly on the orange gaming chip level ($1,000). I used the fucking 100 dollar level black chips when I was defeating this game back in the year of 1986 making about a grand or a little mire each and every goddamn fuckign week. This is very real, and this is very true, and if all candor is also expressed, this is dangerous information. I still think that the fucking mob controls the entire gaming world through dummy-shell corporations, and illegal crooked Wall Street buried lengthy dummy company fakes. I can be wrong, but I have lots of other fucking paranoid ideas too. They are based in a lot of goddamn facts too, yo. Now just as Albert Einstein the great Princeton Professor was givenpowerful knowledge such as his most famous formula that shows how the physical and the astral realms can convert into each other, using little model math boxes inside of his head; so too, I was given this wild information and wisdom concerning PARALLEL-EVENT, while in my bathtub at the Highview Apartments in Williamstown, NJUSAESMWG, by the great LIGHTNING GODDESS DIANA ZUUDLECRONESSIA ARTEEMIS, back in early 1986 late in January somewhere. To quote Sir Dennis Snyder here folks, “And that's just reality, son”. So another WEEEEEEEEEEEEE and yes, another WEEDEEKAWUSS for lovely kitchen patrol DQ-KATE from 1997, and my best to the great TECH CENTER ADMIRAL, and your great pal who I'll always admire, ,lovely mizz Hillary Clinton, may the gods be with her!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, the world wanted to go with a more fucking moderate choice than Bernie. All I can say is, you will all be so damn sorry, an dthen to quote wonderfulsuper talented, the one and only, Mariah Carey, then, “IT WILL BE TOO LATE”. Once the bell rings, no one as of yet has figured out a way to UNRING A GODDAMN MOTHER FUCKING BELL, PEEPS, AND IPYT, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO ME' BRAHHHHHH!!! Folks all think so old. I have been around for cose to 8100 years in a full countt circle of total cycles of my present persona of Mark Wayne Mohr. Askanty of me' HTHS classmates what I told them in 1966. They said, “How old are you mark”? I replied then, “I'm 8,002”. Since then, it's been another mother fucking cycle of another 54 years, bringing me now to 8,056 years. The only way for this nightmare cycle I am in to ever end, would be if I had more time to learn and figure out all of this, Mister Quay Kaput, ol' educator of history, back at me' Westmont, NJUSAESMWG high school. The only way for that tyo happen is Integratron Multiwave Oscillating Medicine. Without this or at least youthful continued blood transfusions, I will be doomed forever to repeat this fucking nightmare of Twilight Zone Glasgow Ships, from Hitler's HELL! I can hear those fucking drums getting louder now, oh wonderful and vely illustrious United States © Copyright Office!!!!!!!! Another WONDERFUL OPRAH WINFREY if you please, oh great world of SINNERS!!!!!!! WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW!!!!!!!!! Hell girl, I'd be happy to just own my soul again, you can own the damn land and the damn entertainment world broadcasting channels, BROadcasting BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope to make it back and get on that damn track, but I am beginning to wonder now if that can ever be mother fucking possible yo!

Public Catalog

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Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

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[ 13 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Saga of song writer Mark Mud.

PAu000501582

1983

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[ 14 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	PAu002153196	1996
[ 15 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah.	SRu000332786	1996
[ 16 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Sarah Callio of ACNJ.	SRu000362114	1997
[ 17 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	Uncle.	PAu000540585	1983
[ 18 ]	Mohr, Mark W., 1954-	What's wrong?	PAu000724407	1984

I always knew that I could depend on the great Copyright Office as a TIME CAPSULE, if nothing else at all. Well, what can I say JAY-JAY EVANS JIMMY WALKER? I may have been Dynamite Sound in 1980 for a short while, but now I am just dynamite, waiting to go off all over myself, Jimmy. And tomorrow, on top of me'; life being rotten to the diseased fucking core and then some, the weather in town is predicted to be around 85 with high humidity that could bring the feel-like-temps into the lower nineties. OH WO WO WO WIZME, and WO there, Mister BILLY HARNER. I used to love it back around 2000 and a few years following, when you would say that in that cool voice of yours. If you're out there somewhere ol' pal, I ain't mad at anybody. I am only vely vely fucking disappointed in a whole lot of goddamn peeps. All I ever try to do is be a nice guy, I give everybody all of my money, and what do I get? I get a bloody fucking nose, and a stolen wasted life. Well, under this cunt huffing HUNTINGTON CURSE, just what can I expect? Mike Patterson told me last night on the goddamn telephone, that a breakthrough medicine for this virus is about to get released. I never have heard a thing on the news, but he seems to get some of his info from the magical kingdoms of Patty H Hollister H, or at least from some goddamn magical kingdom.

Diana Ross said something major in Central Park in the summer of 1983, while doing her great concert there. I'll never forget it for many reasons, as one of them I will hint around about on this blog right now, yo. She was talking about how in those times, most peeps if not just about all peeps, used to have to watch their televisions before the days four or five years later when surround sound and home-theatre television systems were starting to be sold at all electronic stores. She went onto say how our TV's all had those little teeny tiny speakers in them unlike a big ass stereo set. Something that I used to talk aloud in me' bathtub about all had to do with what she said that day at her great NYC concert. I know for a fact that my situation with the 605 Costruction Company, all dovetails quite nastily into allof this shit from 1983 and what lovely Diana Ross said on that hot summers day, shortly as it clouded over and began to rain, and Diana went onto say, “I'm not going to melt”. No, neither is Dorothy from Kansas, but that wasn't the point. The point actually is way too complicated to even begin to address right now on this blog, but to quote lovely big Gab from me' daut's great 2009 DVD, and all precious things all over the place as well; this is why SSJKK, or 'whatever/whoever', made other days, and other times, and other blogs for. SHE WAS 100% TOTALLY mother fucking correct, yo! This mother fuckign dialogue box when I go to try and change font color is getting on me' last fucking Dawn-Marie King nerve. I am gonna'; have to spring for a new keyboard and mouse, and if that doesn't help me with this horse shit, then an entirely new WINDOWS 10 system, bought used at some local mother fuckign cum-puke-her STORE, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo, me' BREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

FEATURING THE LOOK-ALIKES OF MISSES MARCUCCI ON THE LEFT AND MISSES MAROLA ON TH ERIGHT, FROM GOOD OLD 1969, THE YEAR OF INTRICATE UNEXPLAINED WONDERS OF THE COSMOS!

Yessir folks, the chemtrails were out there all over me' county yesterday, Tuesday, on top of lots of other shit as was all told. Still, theansweristheqyuestion and yes Microsoft Corporation SIRS, the chemtrails were manageable, and naut too bad or too menacing, more annoying than otherwise, like 'Sir Mex-605' and his music surround sound BOZE boombox!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW THAT. SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT yo!

MY BLOGS: PLEASE ARCHIVE THEM.

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, UNITED STATES.

© MARK WAYNE MOHR BLOGS 2006-2020.

Live Camera from a random camera within the United States

DATE----02-19-2020 TIME----7:21 A.M.

TEMPERATURE:----

HEAT INDEX FEELS LIKE TEMP:----

HUMIDITY:----

WINDS:----

PREDICTED HIGH:----

SKY CONDITIONS PRESENTLY:----

RAIN CHANCES TODAY:----

(SO WHO GIVES A FUCKING SHIT WHEN THE GODDAMN MOTHER FUCKING DOGSHIT GETS SUPER ASS BAD FOR ME, YO YO YO YO????) Hay Mack Kaiter and Queen Katy Ice Cream, “THIS IS MOTHER FUCKING CUNT ASS WEEDEEKAWUSS, YO YO YO ME' BRAHHHH!!!

Mark Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr

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.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONIC:

Computer, hear my MVP (Mind-Voice-Print). You will be totally absolutely crushing, obliterating, annihilating, and devastating, wrecking, ruining, and utterly wiping out, all of my enemies that are viciously persecuting me FOR THE PAST 65 YEARS, WITH MAX-POWER AGAINST ALL PERSONS AND FORCES BEHIND THE ASSAULT ON ME DURING THIS NASTY DEATH SIEGE ASSAULT ON THIS HORRIBLE NIGHTMARE FUCKING MARCH 2020 MONTH; WITH SKY SIEGE, NABE SIEGE FROM 605, HOSTILITY HOLIGRAM MIND CONTROL 343434343434, AND THAT IS ALL A PART OF THIS ENDLESS ICPE-APE-TECH ASSAULT FROM PRESIDENT DONALD JOHN TRUMP; on a crush-destruct order, under GENERAL-ORDER-189, max.-power. Open-Command, General Order #7. Use G-901, G-1133, G-14, G-719, G-13, CG5555-QP4 sub-code, under G-917, CG-2, under CG-18, and HOLD!!!!!!!!

Your old AT&T landline telephone old style 1983 built tone-commands have been data-transferred into the two highlighted long-EEEEE vowel sounds. The high-tone is colored RED. The low-tone is colored BLUE.

Computer (Magnesonic) under my command and precisely matching voice print, I have an image-object (I-O) now placed on your transpower-block (T-B) after I have crush-destructed this. Once empowered, all actual beings matching this I-O on your T-B will be exactly crushed and singed and destroyed as the original I-O. To accomplish the scan, use your ZD technology built into your system. To accomplish this sympathetic reality duplication, use your AD technology, (ZD-Zero-Dimensional), (AD-Atomic Duplicational).

Computer, 'MAGNESONIC', on an 'I' to 'D', A/B—TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM; you will now be transmitted the two empowerization-transmit tones, or ETT'S.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

GO TO G-189, under G-1133, CG-18, AND S---T---O---P

2 many people have 2 much control and power, and 2 many have been scared or paid, or threatened off, as I know how being efen threatened feels. Both 2 days ago and ten years ago, it's no fun, it's hell, and this is why the scumbag Lamists thrive on these tactics of intimidation. Many Lamists are not Earth chaptered, U could B one and not even know that U R.

As 2 anyone dumb enough 2 think for a second, that I am one bit concerned for your crummy city down there in East Jersey by the sea, you R so brutally mistaken, it is pathetic. Mr. M, I am not after your rotten stuck up wife, and you can have my ex coke head, non-super girl friend, ms. Helen Z. She is all yours, she is a sugar daddy, as R most all women.

I do not care about any of U, and plan 2 move far away from all of U sick monstrous twisted people. U can all burn in fiery H E L L !!!!!!!!!!!!

posted by theansweristheqyuestion at 12:00 PM

1 Comments:

mark wayne mohr said...: IT IS SPACE-TIME-MIND MOUTAINPEN, HERE ON THE THIRTEENTH DAY OF FEBRUARY, IN TWENTY-FOURTEEN.

YOU TELL'M BROTHER, YOU FREGGIN' TELL'M, YO! I did, and now it is Halloween of 2019, like it matters.; 3:31 PM

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>>]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]][[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[>>

KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL ® 1980

MARK WAYNE MOHR

PINK GODDESSES

MORNING LIGHTS

DESTRUCT SWITCHES

GARY MITCHELLS

AND CAPTAIN WILLIAM SHATNER KIRKS

This retaliatory blog will discuss more fucking dogshit about several interrelated topics from absolute mother fucking DOGTOWN ON STEROIDS, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO:

One will be the $500,000,000.00 SECRET. Another will be the extremely twisted fucking logic that appears to somehow all intertwine with my persecution and unrelenting harassment by some horrendous monstrous force that Morianity jokingly refers to since about 2012 or so, as “HALLS FAWCES”, and has fully explained why as well, on many blogs. Still and yet another topic will be how the MILITUFORCE appears to endlessly do shit to me that causes me this endless vacillation and query into just exactly who is behind it all and just precisely why, and what the motive and goals are. Finally, the topic of my HORRIBLE FUCKING ATCO, NEW JERSEY MYSTERIOUS CHOKING IN 1983, AND HOW MANY PSYCHIC VISIONS SEEM TO BE ALL TIED UP IN ALL THIS SHIT TOGETHER, AND ENDED UP SAVED BY ONE OF AMERICA'S GREATEST SYSTEMS AND INSTITUTIONS, THE GREAT UNITED STATES © OFFICE AND LIBRARY OF THE CONGRESS. I am not going to fully get into it all, as that will take countless dozens of blogs just to put any small dent into thisssssssssss hellishness that endlessly surrounds the nightmares of the mountainpen, AKA (ME) fro crying fucking out loud, yo BROADCASTING BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!! I feel fucking compelled to begin with my persecution and unrelenting harassment by some horrendous monstrous force. I have told how in 1983, and before the mysterious choking problem began in the middle of the first week in June; how I would be talking with Jim Burr over the telephone, and discussing this very fucking nightmarish dogshit, and how as much as he appeared to be in with Satan, and the devil, and how HE (Apollo-Lucifer) gets into the lives of certain people for reasons that no mortal truly understands and has a vague connection with the LORD (SAR) Jesus Christ, he never believed an ultimate concept that I threw back up at him. This was that I somehow was coming to realize that all of the shit that this Astral-Plane GOD-Entity and his FAWCES were doing with me, and in my life, and of course NOW I also see the major SATANIC connections with the occult and lovely PATRICIA H. H. HOLLISTER; but that in the so-called BIBLICAL CHRISTIAN END-TIMES, Apollo-Lucifer (THE DEVIL) and his ANGELS/Demonic fawces of darkness (ASTRAL-PLANE HIGH ENERGY ENTITIES CONNECTED WITH THE EVIL BRIGGBASE AND LAMBRIGG CULT), this being will need to transfer some of these duties and objectives relating to the utter and complete destruction and obliteration of one MARK WAYNE MOUNTINPEN HUNTINGTON MOHR, to other worldly powers and people, such as my distant CUZZ DONNIE BOY, and his evil ATLANTIC CITY CONNECTED FRIENDS AND CRONIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THISSSSSSSSSS, Mizz Erica Snakes 1983-AMC, mahm; was in my humble opinion at least, a vely vely vely non-Bob McDowell “HUUUUUUUUUUUGE” deal that was going on in real time back then in 1983, that had tentacles stretching into Atlantic City, New York City, Washington, DC-13-600, and all the way back into the PURGATORY (Astral-Plane) itself, AKA the Plancktime, by the CERN LABS and inventors of the COLLIDER or (Particle Accelerator Tunnels)!!!!!!!!!!! By the way, some of this very fucking cunt annoying MAJOR NOISE seems to also be coming from up above me, so this is a full blown NUKE-TRIAD NABE ASSAULT, as earlier around just past seven and after the major cable freeze ups and utility assault all went fucking cunt down; along came the across the hallway ILLEGAL COUSINS bullshit with endless fucking annoying doors that went on an hour, waking the mother fucking dead if that were possible without DDLTT (Distant Delay Laser Trace Technology), or to put that another way, Mizz New Jersey OLIVIA BEEGEE mahm yo, LIFE EDITING/SPLICING, that seemed to fucking major ass fascinate the DONALD so much decades ago while I was in my SARAH-SEARCH-MODE of unfathomable hellishness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is all merely an opening foundation, and it will most definitely be continued as more blogs follow onward and DOWNWARD, as the word 'upward' really does NAUT apply to the Mountainpen, NAUT FUCKING EVER, YO ME' BRAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And now to open up just a wee fucking ass bit further, the 500 MEGA-SECRET deal, me' kind BLOGAUDIANS OF THE AATS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

These same ASTRAL FAWCES that are part of a technology that Mountainpen's Morianity calls and labels DDLTT, using LIFE-EDITING on a true cosmic level since WE ALL IN PHYSICAL LIFE ARE RIDING THE PHOTON-WAVE OF REALITY, and just ask any good physicist if I am NAUT correct here in saying that, Mizz AT&T BLAKE; but they also play with another powerful technology that appears to fascinate the GREAT ALMIGHTY DONALD ALSO, and that being the KEYBOARDS FROM PETAHELL TECH, also a name that morianity has given to this quite unpleasant part of TRUTH in all of its embodiment, and IPYT folks. 'KFP' is no joking matter, as it involves not only the physical-plane technology of such things like sound-samplers, musical computers and modern-era-keyboards, vocoder machines, and other similar devices; BUTTERCHEESE and yes Mike Soft, a BIG ASS BUTT and but, it also is part of what the spiritual and psychic world peeps call and label in many cases as “THE DREAM-WORLD”. I of course cannot concentrate today with this horrible fucking TRUMP NOISE ASSAULT ON ME THIS SUNDAY, so all of this will be later explored in much greater alacrity, detail, and elaborated elucidation, by the Mountainpen! Still, you can all see from merely this tiny teeny wee tidbit of information provided on this blog today and now, that things will REALLY BE HEATING UP, and most likely even sending this entire mess by next Tuesday afternoon, smack fucking ass dab into the FINAL 8^th RED STAR ZONE on the great SECRETS-THERMONETER-SCALE!!!!!!! I begged this MILITUFORCE to not push me this far, and they refused to mother fucking cunt comply, so WOW is next week going to be the ultimate bruiser for a whole cunt huffing lot of people out here. To quote a dude who truly knows just who is really is, Mister CHESTER-FRANK, YO, YO YO YO YO, “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”!

WELCOME TO THE MORIANITY FOUNDATION, GOOD FOLKS. Anyone can join, and the price is ABSOLUTELY FREAKING FREE. SO WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

Here is a little bio information about the Head-Morian, as requested by the original blog website that I joined in 2006 to begin my blogs and the Morianity-Project:

MY LINK TO OLD BLOGS IS AS FOLLOWS:

http://www.drunkenhive.blogspot.com/

On Blogger since January 2006

NEW JERSEY BLOGS---2006-2011

FLORIDA BLOGS---2012-2020

TO ALL OLIVIA'S AND HOLLISTER'S 'EVERYWHERE':

New Morianity “BOM” FLORIDA blogs from December of 2011:

www.theansweristheqyuestioncontinues.blogspot.com

So why did Ultimate Fighter Sir David tell me to GO AND WASH MY HANDS, AND WHY DID NICK CANNON GO ON TO ADVERTISE FOR THE GREAT DISNEY-MONSTER HEADPHONES AFTER HIS DOPPELGANGER TOLD ME IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE TWO YEARS OR SO EARLIER, THAT MY MACHINES “MAKE MONSTER-ASS RECORDINGS” for crying out loud?

GO WASH YOUR HANDS, CHAPTER 5

10:24 POST MERIDIAN, 5 NOVEMBER, 2013

Mar 11, 2020 2:00 AM – Mar 18, 2020 1:00 AM

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Boy oh boy oh boy Uncle Billy, it is half past two in the damn morning, and I am getting a wee bit tired and sleepy. Screw everything for the sake of dogshit squared. Don't get me wrong folks, I can be the nicest guy in the world when I am not living in the epitome of harassment and the quintessential hellishness of the HUNTINGTON CURSE.

THESE MILITUFORCE PRICKS

ARE REALLY HACKING ME' CUM-PUKE-HER!

END TRANSMISSION.

THE BEGINNING, AND SMELLING 'GOUUUUUUUD'

3:16 ANTE' MERIDIAN

TUESDAY MORNING

17 MARCH, 2020

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

ALSO KNOWN AS (AKA) THE 'BOM'

MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASES CHART:

TUESDAY, MARCH 17, 2020

CURRENT PHASE IS:

WANING CRESCENT 1:7

N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 WNC7 N.M.

THE NAME OF THIS BOOK IS:

THE TORTURE AND SLOW MURDER

CHAPTER 42

THE GLOBAL ENLIGHTENMENT FROM MORIANITY BIBLE OF 1995, NEW INTERNET VERSION, KNOWN AS A 'BLOG', IN THIS GREAT TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY

I spoke about the Huntington curse on the previous blog, Chapter #41. I admit that I have discussed this topic a lot, and that nothing was actually new. I told before on many prior blogs, all about the great mass murders in my family, in February of 1948 or somewhere in that era of time; and I even told before how all members of the family are told that fake-balloon-'gas left on' story, until we're all grown up enough to learn the real nightmarish truths of this family. But then people, are any of us ever grown up sufficiently to hear ALL OF THE THINGS involved here that stem from the Astral-Plane of true existence? Because great people out here, that is indeed where this curse really and truly does all emanate from, and the mighty man of Gloucester City wisdom was right all along; and just seemed to know this crazy wild shit that indeed, there is a spiritual problem going on in this Huntington clan. Obvious, this is why I was destined here in physical waking life as the me-persona right now, to come to purchase that wild PRIVECODE MACHINE, make many wild connections with other electronic gadgets and gizmos, and eventually learn how to communicate directly with 'nuclear-life' forms (Astral Gods) if you will. Then of course, time and eternity not being compatible ever in any way, the eventual conscious memories of my love for Goddess Diana all began to surface while living there in that magical wild rental home on Norris Avenue, in Atco, New Jersey, USA. There really is no other explanation here for all that happened from the time that I moved into that prior residence of 1802 Robin Hill Apartments, or the great 'prophesied farm outside of Haddonfield, New Jersey', from a decade still earlier, leading into the Playboy Bunny, and then leading to my departure from there, and into that Atco rental home. All the dots to so many things not only connect, but make sense in gargantuan ways; so long as we come to accept some really surreal and mind blowing truths. Once I began interacting with the electron in a personal way and creating a coded system for HER to communicate with me through, while living in that Atco home, things from there took off in ways that no human being could ever even hope to imagine. But we are not free in this world to do things such as these, not without horrendous life altering penalties. This is what the goddamn rotten MILITUFORCE is all about. THAT was indeed, all along, the great Gene Roddenberry ROCK THE ANDROID equation! It really from here can all be turned over to the great and illustrious Mister John Henningsen of the Big Brothers Organization as it was called then before women altered it to Big Brothers and Big Sisters Organization. Yessir world, he would say it often to me, and it needs absolute faithful reiteration whenever needed on these BOM (Blogs Of Mountainpen). Yessir, “It's just that simple, Mark”. Well John from the COLOR-RED STATE (Colorado), you were right then, and you'd be just as right up here in this photon projection of the eternal now known as middle March of twenty-twenty, for crying out loud, kind sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let me update everybody on several fronts and several items here on this 2020 great memory-filled SAINT PATRICK DAY, yo. First, there really was an 'AD-6', but he was someone who used to E-MAIL me back in the era of the 'YBCO' song days somewhere, with good old Jon BonJovi's Cuzz Tony, and his employer and then-pal of mine to some degree, the great Ryan. So I just decided to temporarily bring him around to the building as a PHASE-4-Entity, and the rest, you all know, and as promised, I will always come back eventually, and level with any untrue thing that I may say, that was done to get reactions or make amateur-scientific tests if you will. I do believe that AD-6 is a globally traveling agent from one of our great national black file agencies. I have no proof, but UI feel he still is up there and reads my blogs, and that most of my Blogaudians are indeed a part of this 'crew'. I also believe that several powerful and extremely well globally known celebrities read my BOM. As to anyone else, well, you see what happens. I tell peeps about these blogs, those who seem to be very interested in my story, but when the toilet paper hits the stink, or push reaches the shove to be a bit more Tommy Roe 'polite' here; they never ever go up and read me, such as the dude who helped me a little bit in my attempts to rebuild my personal credit and rating score, after the great wicked KING-CLAN of washcloths, wiped me out and murdered me' credit rating, late in 2009. Hey, why peeps won't read me, I do not know. I only know that there is a reality going on that is all connected to the very situations and problems that these blogs have talked about in great detail with no holds barred, for more than fifteen years now, BRAH! Now what is me' word choice all about here some may be wondering and scratching heads over, when I say, “I just decided to temporarily bring him around to the building as a PHASE-4-Entity”. So let me discuss this poo-poo-poo Dave Roth Warren Grove 1997 deal here with this and things all related to this. No human being can EVER truly make up anything, and only a top mathematician can understand what I am going to now tell you here, peeps. Only if we lived in a truly unlimited and finite cosmos, could we ever have a TRUE POSSIBLE RANDOM, which is my argument that I have had with humanity, silently for the most part, since the early middle nineteen-eighties, concerning “direct communication with sub atomic energies, and especially, THE ELECTRON”. Because there is no TRUE POSSIBLE RANDOMNESS in cosmos, as a result of what I have termed and labeled, FINITE PATTERNIZED RANDOMIZATION THEORY, or my FPR-THEORY; all things tell stories, all dots connect, and all codes are part of the seventh dimension of LAWTRONICS, a sort of programmed ruling system set up in the absolute zero dimensional void truth of reality; and controls the entire-ness of all things that then go on to seemingly explode out into what we all now out here in human life, call the BIG-BANG. When I created the PHASE-4-ENTITY of the AD-6 character coming to this building to see and talk to me from time to time; I was not making up anything, because NOBODY CAN TRULY MAKE UP ANYTHING. This does not mean that I did not tell a “temporary falsehood”, because I did, but it was a CONTROL-EXPERIMENT the entire time. Because of that, and also because I will always come clean eventually and correct the intentional-error; and thirdly since I've openly admitted on this blog a decade or more ago, that indeed I may be doing this from time to time; then there is nothing inherently evil or intentionally misleading, to the point of fraudulent or criminal behavior involved here. What I hoped might just happen, did not happen, and I gave it every chance to happen, but alas, and AGAIN, the great mighty fucking M2F won and I lost. Hey people, so SOSO-WEIN-SSDD, and the 'D' can mean decade here rather than DAY! So hey Sir Chester-Frank, a great big shouted out “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”, just for you, so please don't knock me out of me' whittle elderly shoes now, ol' pal!!!!!!!

Another thing here folks, is that somewhere around early Monday morning, or two of the clock or so in the AM; a blinding brilliant searchlight seemed to come right into my window. I came to learn within half an hour or so that a wild and major incident was happening right here in my wonderful lovely Public Housing Building. Good old PH, as in hand skin stickiness and my weird medical condition that came on me so suddenly at half past ten at night on the fourth of June in 1983, but let me not divert from the point here. I did not find out until I was watching the six of the clock evening local news, in-between all that SARS stuff that has taken a death grip on us all; that here is what occurred just past two in the morning or so yesterday. There was a traffic stop just like we all see on great “COP” shows such as COPS or LIVE-PD. It took place right around here on the highway just forty yards or so east of this building, or if not right on Route 1, then right near to it. As in those TV-SHOWS, this idiot made a run for it, and he barricaded himself in our PH-Building. After the blinding County Bird searchlight, came the whole county, huge SWAT trucks like nothing I ever saw before even on the TV, police cars, ambulances, police persons, bullhorns, and I heard them keep saying to this character who was held up in the building, by the name of George, to put down his gun. This nightmare went on until somewhere either after nearly 9 AM or up to somewhere around 3 PM, as I could not stay awake any longer after around half past eight, and I crashed. When I got up at half past two or so yesterday afternoon, it was finally all over, praise be the gods. This was a very scary night for me, and yes Sir Microsoft Corporation and Spellchecker, NIGHTMARES is quite an appropriate word here for me, so thanx, yo! On the news, I learned that GEORGE finally SHOT HIMSELF, and that he is is critical condition at the local hospital down the road from my PCP doctor's office. Why peeps run from a traffic stop is beyond stupid, but he did, and things turned ugly. Oh well, there by the grace of Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, go I, yo!

Speaking of dots all connecting, and no such thing as TRUE RANDOM in the world; maybe I shouldn't say what I am going to say now, but I'm gonna'. For once in my life, I need to keep my big mouth SHUT; huh wife of LAW & ORDER hubby's girlfriend? And what did hubby do but put a satchel of the SARS VIRUS, into the trunk of a car? At the end of the show, when hubby said something to the DA, his wife who he was cheating on with numerous women in this fictional fantastic law show, told him off with that wild remark, and quite damn emphatically. That was the part that I put in RED PRINT above. But what I am gonna'; pop off here about, is indeed the SARS VIRUS or CORONAVIRUS by another name, and the current strain-19. You see, the medical industry is every bit as crooked as the entertainment industry. Their absolute GOD is nothing more than MONEY. If they really did not go into this field for the money, then electric-medicine, gene growth medicine, youthful blood transfusions, and stem cell medicine would have all been allowed to exist, and the REPUBLICANS and especially the all mighty BUSH FAMILY, who think they are in some bizarre partnership with GOD ALMIGHTY, have stopped all of these things. This virus could be KILLED AND STOPPED IN HOURS. So could all disease, all aging, all of it. And only Bernie understands the truth of these powerhouse things. And I fully know that a real invisible set of BLINDERS have been placed on millions of stupid ass people, many of whom I associate with in my own miserable life, and this is going to lead to a billion little people all dying when it can be prevented. No, I don't mean from the SARS, but dying as we all do in such ridiculously short spans of time, oh wise guru and HTHS educator, MISTER QUAY KAPUT. No peeps, I never ever forget fucking SQUAT, and I never ever goddamn will, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!! We were originally not designed for these AFTER-BIBLICAL-FLOOD-TIMES to live these very short spans. We all lived between 300 and 900 years, with the oldest recorded historical figure of Sir Methuselah kicking the bucket supposedly at the rip YOONG age of 969 years, leading to this change through the flood, and you just go and ask any of these KNOW IT ALL REPUBLICAN CHRISTUIAN PREACHERMAN PEEPS if I am making this shit up, or if the Mountainpen does NAUT know his damn bible for crissake?????????????????? Multiwave Oscillating Integratron Medicine, AKA the FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH, ALIXER'S, AMBROSIA'S, DOCTORS OF ALCHEMY, and the list is extensive from many times and many locales around this Earth-Planet. If we face MECCA (EAST), and take any magnet and hold it in our hands, tiny subatomic particles on the left side of it are spinning negatively to the left which is North, while tiny subatomic particles on the right side of it are spinning positively to the right which is South. The faster they spin and the more of them that exist inside of the magnet, the stronger the Gauss Field of energy is, or the stronger the magnet. The greater the GF is, the greater the distance of connected-interaction there is between any two of them held close to each other. But this same energy of these subatomic worlds, that is all existing because in reality, on a level so infinitesimal that no one could ever fathom; tiny precision MACHINES are actually operating in ways a million times or more complex than anything inside of any NASA operation or even supposedly inside of any secret base hanger such as the once great A-51, or even the WPAFB. But screw all that because this ain't me' pernt, sir Archie BQ of the NON-DQ ADMIRALS AIRFIORCE CLUB of all great musicians EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!! Me' pernt here is that magnets aren't the only thing that these sub-atomic-realities are operating in and throughout and in this exact manner of left and right spinning velocities. ANYTHING AT ALL has this very same truth. So if we put ring or bracelet on both of our ankles and both of our wrists for example; the left side of ourselves that is spinning at unfathomable velocities on this subatomic level is literally pulling us towards the left, endlessly. The right side of ourselves that is also spinning such as this, is literally pulling us towards the right, endlessly. This is known in future times as well as in many transdimensional locales in localized-5^th dimensional hyperspace, as VELOCITRONIC-BALANCE. This is maintained in every cell in our bodies, in every atom of our planets and stars, and you name it. The greatest weapon ever developed and that needs to be absolutely controlled by the GODS, is known as VI the mighty SIX, or Velocitronic Interruption Technology. The great GODDESS FASCITAR told me when I was dreaming it was 1997, that SHE fixed it in our dream-down realities off of the ASTRAL-PLANE, so that the 10 and the 6 in the instructions for operating her great FASCITAR SPIRIT TRAVEL SYSTEM, is a part of this. The ROMAN MATH symbol of the letters 'V' and 'I' means number 6 in English numeration translation. Just look at any grandfather clock if you doubt me, and see the bottom hour as VI. As for what the 10 number is connected into in the great Fascitar-instructions, that SHE would not tell me, and I asked her too five times, and did not wish to press my luck asking for a VI's time, if you get me' whittle Saint Patty's Day Irish humor, and I ain't Irish, but lovely Patty HHH is of course. So WEEEEEEEEEEE and yes MC Corporation, WEEDEEKAWUSS too, yo yo yo yo yo BREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! Now how does ankle and wrist bracelets fit into all of these things, you may wonder? 'Let's explore this', at all special education schools, 'EVERYWHERE', shall we?!!!!!!!!!!!!

Frequency in electricity is also “EVERYTHING”, and I'm not teasing me' daughter here, but telling it very damn true to all of you out here, yo!!!!!!!!!!! Still, neighbors who tell you to do things one minute, and then chop off your fucking head the next minute, for doing just that; talk about magnetic bi-polarization, and medical conditions running in goddamn family lines for CRISSAKE!!!!!!!!!!! Jesus Christ Almighty!But let me naut get too much off on these silly ass tangents, Mizz AT&T BLAKE, mahm! Passing powerful electrical currents throughout our bodies on frequencies that are totally different than the ones used t power our homes and factories with, and in controlled altering bursts of precise frequencies, alters the genes/DNA of our cells. Ask any goddamn microbiologist who is not a C- student. Still, the secret of altering cellular structures in positive ways without causing bad harmful shit, is all about realizing that there are decillions of endless possible combinations of north left (negative) energy, that can indeed repair and rejuvenate cells that have gone astray from their perfect working order as a result of biological-age-time, or BAT. First we invert the electrical energy in an MRI-TUNNEL, so that the south right (positive) energy, is neutralized, as these will cause cells to go on a rampage and endlessly reproduce copies at speeds that will cause us what we call CANCER. Now that we use this inverter system to filter out the currents that do this, we are left with only a possible neutral to good harmonic oscillation system, that 'randomly' would take thousands of years for the greatest computers to figure out which ones work to restore each cell and each gene to its state of biological perfection. Rather than give up, Tim Barber showed me how to make this process speed up quite a bit. You simply program a harmonizer so that all possible energies are at every possible frequency and combination of frequency, and all at the same time. Now, we have the endless or near endless group of all of them, and the vast majority of them that do not repair or rejuvenate, simply DO NOTHING. But the entire spectrum is struck now, so the magic few notes of music so to speak, will be played in that mix. But none of the destructive energies are heard because the inverter knocks that side of the polarized system out from being played. So within one hour or less of this treatment, every cell has been restored to its PERFECT INTEGRITY, hence the name of that wild machine in the desert, the Integratron. But even without that much radical shit that might just disrupt the natural balance of human life too much, we could at least use the great 20 kilo-hertz frequency with the new age great batteries we all have now in our I-Phone devices, etcetera. We all could be wearing bracelets that send 20,000 hertz signals from one side of us to the other side of us, completing the perfect sonic ark of cellular integrity. Tiny peizio-electric mini-speakers and powerful mini-batteries, would all be set in bracelets, one worn on the ankle and one worn on the wrist, on BOTH SIDES; that endlessly putt out this nearly inaudible frequency. No virus, no germ, no disease, CAN LIVE MORE THAN MINUTES, WITHIN A MAGNETIC FIELD that would be generated around us should we do this. This is real, and this WOULD ABSOLUTELY WORK!!!!!!!! This is why the great Senator 'Feeltheburn' Sanders, hates Wall Street and Pharmaceutical giants and all these HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE wealthy crooked billionaires. They all know this can be done, but it would put them out of business. BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT, BIG ASS BUTT and but folks, the billionaires ARE DOING MANY OF THESE THINGS. All these prick ass super wealthy gods called billionaires, many are doing blood transfusions from people still in their youthful growth cycle of stem signaling cells and other hidden things too. They want to have all of this for themselves, and the fucking hell with all the rest of us. THIS IS NOT ONE BIT GODDAMN FAIR, WORLD!!!!!! not one more person needs to be hurt by that damn ass SARS VIRUS, not a one!

The entire world is nuts, and they all think that I am. As in that fantastic Henry Fonda movie that I think is one of the best ten movies ever made, called “12 Angry Men”; that one juror who is such as baseball fan in the show, SAID IT ALL. He was saying how arguing with that other juror, whose part was played by Mister Fonda, was “Like talking into a dead phone”. I know of no better way for me to say it. Watching the world and watching the 2020 election year, and how this world or a lot of it, doesn't like the great Bernie. All I can say is that after this is all over, whoever we get unless it is the great Senator Bernie Sanders, www.berniesanders.com/ please go there folks, he is beyond wonderful; but whoever we get, MAY the GODS HELLLLLLLLP US ALL!

END TRANSMISSION.

4:02 POST MERIDIAN

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

15 MARCH, 2020

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3

Image result for images of lighthouses at night

MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASES CHART:

SUNDAY, MARCH 15, 2020

CURRENT PHASE IS:

WAXING GIBBOUS 6:6

N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 WNC7 N.M.

The Huntington Curse is both real and not taken one bit seriously, let alone believed by anyone. I have to go through it for my family in this present generation of humanity inside of the Astral-Plane GASME-GODS-GAMES, and on top of that, I have to be laughed at and scorned, for knowing beyond any doubt, that it is absolutely true and real. This curse takes on different forms as it attacks each person in my family line, who are forced to inherit it involuntarily. This works every bit as monstrous as other DNA-family-related issues and items that pass down; such as cancer, diabetes, hypertension, mental disorders, and this list extends beyond those items, I'm quite sure. The difference is that does not operate in the exact randomized way that those items I have listed here do. With those, it is based on mathematical odds in the world of ultra complex microbiology and medically related complexities. Here, there is an actual intelligence right on the physical plane of life, organizing who is next in line each time it needs to be transferred. Also, the type of hellishness that this curse brings its victims, alters in radical ways. The person in my family lineage who I inherited from, died half a decade before I was even born. Obviously, time is not some exact part of this situation from hell either, as that skip in time where no one was under the curse, seemingly was allowed by whoever is running this SALVATION-GASME-GODS-GAME from the great unfathomable ASTRAL-PLANE, AKA the PURGATORY, in the circles of the R.C. CH-UR-CH, and I separate the word CHURCH here, for very obvious JRSS reasons, as it most definitely appears to signal the words in this game as follows: CHOSEN HUNTINGTON-YOU ARE-CHOSEN HUNTINGTON. Merely take the in-between two words of (YOU ARE), and make it shorten to pronounceable quicker letter-words, {U} {R}. Now examine the text of an unmistakable error-proof James Redfield Synchronicity Syndrome (JRSS) here: Chosen Huntington, U R Chosen Huntington. You have to admit the very word of CHURCH, at least according to the great NEW-AGE-FATHER Mister Redfield,does LITERALLY speak for itself, yo peeps, yo!!!!!!!!!! You will all have to forgive me for perhaps having a much lower level of tolerance for coincidences in this human tangible material realm of 'waking' physical life, than most if not all of you out here. Still, that old argument between Misses 1969 Marola and myself seems to be rearing its ugly head here, does it naut? She insisted that going with the vast majority, HAS TO BE THE CORRECT THING TO DO. I did not agree back at the age of fourteen, with that lovely woman and my educator at the time,in the illustrious COOLEY HALL of HADDONFIELD, NJUSAESMWG. Sorry if this offends anybody anywhere in this wonderful and lovely world, butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT people; if you get mad at me, then get mad at lovely fictional ADA Abbey Law & Order Carmichael, as she said that exact quotation on the show about high tolerance for coincidence, and I am not making up a single thing here, folks! So in further examining this inconceivable reality, that Mountainpen's Morianity has called the “HUNTINGTON CURSE”, and used to call the MASON CURSE as this term was invented by Cousin Donald long ago when discussing our 'wonderful and wovewee family'. It is not the Mason's, not by a most awesome long-shot, and IPYT, let me qualify and elaborate somewhat here on what I refer to when I state that this thing takes on varying forms of hellishness with each new and different victim of it, with me, Mountainpen, being the MOST RECENT VICTIM OF IT IN ALL OF THE HISTORY OF HUMANITY HERE ON THIS EARTH-PLANET! If anyone anywhere in the world thinks that I am getting some sick joy out of doing this blog, and saying these things; then you are way sicker and nuttier that I could ever be. Now the dude before me int his wild Huntington lineage, was a man by the name of Arthur Huntington, He owned a men's clothing store in the suburbs of the city of Boston, Massachusetts, USA back in the nineteen-forties, and was married to a Chicago lady whose maiden name was Mizz Alice Gallagher. One day for absolutely no discernable reason, he took an ax to my Aunt Alice in her sleep while she lay next to him in their bed in a nice home there that he owned in Braintree, Massachusetts, USA. After he brutally slaughtered his wife, he marched himself down the hallway of their home and he entered the bedroom of his mother in law, the mother of Aunt Alice, and he took that same ax to her skull. After these two murders were completed, my Uncle (cousin actually), marched himself down to the basement of the home where he proceeded then to hang himself, and he died. To this day, a coverup surrounds the true story, because my Huntington family is indeed a 'founding-fathers-America FAMILY, and we all know how things operate. Not only MUFON PEEPS but any reasonable person knows about cover-ups and why they are done. It is always about preventing TRUTHS, number one. Then it is about PROTECTING POWERFUL PEOPLE, number two. If a number three exists,my best guess would be this: A larger agenda exists that actually is what causes not only the actual covering up of facts, but also, allows for all of the necessary items to come into play that puts the coverup into play from 'A' through 'Z'. I was always told a fake phony story by my mom concerning the great Massachusetts coverup of the family, that gas was left on and they all died. In those days, no internet or social networking existed in the wildest minds of anyone on this planet, or not to my knowledge anyway, and in this dimension. So if a kid was told something by his or her parents, THEN THAT'S THAT as Mister Esolph the great fable writer would say! There was no Googling or networking with hundreds of peeps in a far away town or any of that present day jazz where everybody carries the entire universe in their little pockets now! To quote my beach-pal Ziggy Malyeska from summer-time in 1969, “Hey, that's the way it goes”. He was right then and nothing at all has changed up here in the illusion of 2020, nearly fifty one years later. So Arthur Huntington had this horrendous deal at the final day of his life, yet to hear his neighbors and this I've been told, “He was out in his yard and walkway, shoveling snow, and whistling like a very happy man, just the day before he did all of this”. He appeared to be doing well financially too with his men's clothing store, either in town or in the close city of Boston. He seemed to be happy in his marriage as well. Then, KABOOM. But my point here folks is that the curse with me has taken on entirely different forms. I have never ever had any normalcy at all in my pathetic damn life. I have never known love, happiness,my own family, peace of mind, and on top of that I have never made more than minimum wage or been able to get any kind of a productive job, and believe me peeps of this world, no one has tried to do all of these things more than me. The one time that I finally seemed to beat this curse was during the year of 1986 with my playing Roulette in the Atlantic City casinos. THAT TOO was STOPPED by whoever is behind this horrendous monstrous fucking nightmare curse on this family, and whoever is here on this planet PHYSICALLY, operating it and organizing it, intergenerationally. It seems that Morianity has created-invented ANOTHER NEW WORD. Hey it fits, so I am going to use it, yo! On top of all of that and as if this wasn't enough of a hellish nightmare pile of stench from Dogtown, I have had a lifetime of being forced into poverty, being ripped off, robbed, assaulted, victimized, forced to endlessly live right with horrible rotten neighbors all around me who steal and do drugs and break the law, and you would think that the local police people would at least give me a little bit of respect for being true blue honest and clean, but do they? No sir. They treat me like a kooky crackpot and won't ever help me out at all with anything. Then the internet world after I started blogging out my hellish nightmare woes and tales from HELL/DOGTOWN since 2006; all call me a complaining, ranting, whining, crackpot nut. Let me ask anyone out here, yo? If you object to my term of a FAMILY CURSE being on me, then tell me, what would you classify all of this absurd and surreal outlandish junk on steroids for my entire 65+ YEARS OF LIFE? Well, one little good piece of news here, folks. Miss Fondaslime Sleazeweedsdisease Pukedrinker missed me by a 'mucousy' nose hair. I am on page 12 of 12 and was so busy typing out this Huntington curse shit, that I completely forgot about monitor screen sticky page blockers. HA-HA-HA, butButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT I am still going to write in my goddamn fucking FIVE GROUPATIONS HERE, and yes Microsoft Corporation, here and HEREdahelda!!!!!! Yes it appears that I now have made up two brand new words since beginning this damn blog, MUCOUSY, and yes, it fits what I am trying t say, so IMHO there should be a word, only the English Language system was too stupid to realize that when it was originated. “SOOOOOOOOO”, Arthur Crane of ANTINASS sir; I will oblige, and make up this SECOND WORD TODAY, yo BRAH! I believe Sir Chester-Frank would now say should he be in here with me, “WEEEEEEEEEEEEE”!

Now this curse with me WILL NAUT PERMIT me to make any money at all. Even a minimum wage job brings my MILITUFORCE ENEMIES down on me like a ton of bricks. You all know the horrific story of 1986, my Roulette Casino playing, and my HARASSMENT nightmare all starting up, STORY, so no need to rehash this with you now, peeps. But I will say this much. Look st RECENT TIMES for a major mother fucking brand new verification of these claims that I am making right here in the year of 2020. Look at the TWO TIMES THAT I POSTED UP ON MY BLOGS, THE 'BOM' about MAKING MONEY WITH BLOGS, and how BOTH GODDAMN ASS TIMES, I was literally 1986 re-persecuted again in ways that are beyond unfathomable, bringing me insurmountable events that none of you would be able to survive for three days with on top of all of my other problems. The very same goddamn shit that was done to me in 1986 when I temporarily appeared to be breaking out of the HUNTINGTON CURSE with my Roulette Casino playing in Atlantic City, happened tome all over again, 34 years later up here in this photon projected eternal now, in relation to my photon memory of 1986 here in eternal now. $$$$$$$$$$$, or better said here peeps, the lack of it, and my being ENDLESSLY OPPRESSED INTO THIS DEMONIC GODS-GAMES HELLISHNESS NIGHTMARE ON QUINTESSENTIAL STEROIDS, is an ongoing womb to tomb shit eating nightmare for poor old nobody rotten diseased little goddamn me, yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo, NO MATTER HOW HARD I EVER TRY WITH ANYTHING, OR WHAT I HAVE EVER DONE, OR COULD EVER DO!!!!!!!

When I talk about numerous Roulette systems, the enemies know that I'll never set foot into their evil gaming houses ever again, so they don't assault me as badly. They don't like me shouting out ways that have the potential to lessen their greedy avaricious profits, but it isn't the end of the world by their perceptions. But interfering with the generational mother fuckign Huntington Curse, now that is another entirely new ball of wax the size of ten planet Jupiter's, for crying out loud. Oh no-sir, don't ever make the mistake of thinking that I can do something that might just catapult me to a place where this monster-ass NON-HUBCAP-NICKED UP MILITUFORCE of the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL, simply won't be able to do anywhere as many horrendous things to me with nabes and poverty situations in general and on and on and on and on and on. That would be the QUINTESSENTIAL NO-NO; me' people!!!

NOT WITHOUT SEVERE MAJOR PENALTY!

Yes folks; a part of this HUNTINGTON CURSE is all about both keeping me down and oppressed and poverty stricken endlessly, but it's also about PLAYING SOME HUUUUUUUUGE GAME WITH ME endlessly, where if I do anything that starts something with this diseased mother fucking force of pure unadulterated DOGTOWN-EVIL; they instantly turn right around and engage me with some brand new sicko-game of theirs! This has been incredibly echoed in ways too unbelievable to ever be told in any COURT OF LEGAL PRECEEDINGS, with and throughout the entire ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY, and they have even used this ROYAL HUNTINGTON BLOODLINE to bring the current GASME-GODS-GAMES to include my own goddamn daughter, whose initials legally match the great counsel, that was even referred to, and is right there in the GOSPELS OF THE BIBLE'S SCRIPTURES to this very day, by the LORD JESUS THE MESSIAH (CHRIST), regarding NOT doing or saying things that might generate wrath and anger from this mighty MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-34343434343434 GROUPATION of one million ASTRAL ENTITIES, and the ULTIMATE POLITICAL SYSTEM OF ALL THINGS, EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!!

The great Glassboro State College in New Jersey, and the neighboring area where good old Mister Timothy Barber used to have a home, and where I witnessed things in his basement that to this day are for the most part unknown by the masses; will haunt my mind and memory until the day my body turns to worms and maggots. But then that last sentence was what this was all about, because his miniaturized version of a multi-wave oscillation integratron was used to turn an ordinary house fly into a being that not only never gets old, but seems to be immortal and absolutely indestructible, and I swear to the gods that I was in his basement, and saw many of these wild systems and apparatuses that were scattered all over the place and not particularly organized by any stretch of the imagination. Just last night on that marvelous HISTORY-CHANNEL, the same channel that also hosts that fantastic other television show called PROJECT BLUEBOOK, had a brand new show on that discussed the INTEGRATRON out in the Majabee Desert. I have misspelled the name of the desert, and I cannot get the Microsoft Spellchecker to provide me with the accurate spelling. I am sure that more computer savvy peeps out here can find out what I am talking about here, and can then google up that American desert, and then the word “integratron”. Our cells, and the magic of all of them, is all inside of our blood. Blood is nothing but cells, and some cells are stem-cells, and these cells communicate and transmit information to all the others that surround them in all parts of the human body. This is called in the world of medical science and stem cell research, “signaling”. But that machine system that was in Tim Barber's fucking basement, that I have talked about from time to time on some of my blogs ever since their inception in January of the year 2006; is the point I wish to quickly discuss here. The larger machine in the desert, was 19/20 completed, or 95%. The man was obviously murdered at the age of 68 years, and according to all the peeps who have attempted to get to the bottom of this other Arthur Huntington Basement story, of all great Victoria Winters Dark Shadows other family bibles, deceptions, outright lies and general coverup's; the Federal Bureau of Investigation or the FBI for shortened abbreviation; went to that desert where he had a dwelling place there, and part of the machine near its dome top, was somehow quickly confiscated, along with numerous notes; just as they did with the great and illustrious Mister Nicola Tesla, at his hotel in Manhattan, NYUSAESMWG; when they stole all of his wild research and papers, regarding electrical transmission by air, and other Goddess-Diana-related private matters that he once had with him in his hotel room. Now Mister Tim Barber who I used to know, and who was a pal of JIM BURR from Gloucester City; showed me this wild “eternal-life machine as he called it, only it was miniaturized, and only could immortalize life forms weighing less than five pounds. A larger scale model was what he told me he was working on, while I was over at his house right next to the college in Glassboro, NJUSAESMWG, that day in early middle 1985 somewhere. One day, Tim vanished forever, like a magical morning mist on a hot early July morning. I was told that he went out to California, but I am not sure what REALLY ever happened to this dude, folks. All these things are absolutely the fucking truth. He did, shortly before my last time interacting with him in 1992; give me a wild item. It was a regular housefly, at least to hear him tell it. Only now, this huge black fly was the size of a Kennedy half dollar or just larger. This fly is buried in some woods, just to the south of the old Cifaloglio property, about thirty yards from the property and about sixty yards in from the road. I did this about two months before leaving that nightmare shituation that I was in with Ann and Dawn King. I had a feeling that I would be needing to run away on a moments notice, and that I would not dare take this with me in case I was stopped and searched at some local traffic stop point, as I would have no rational mortal world explanation to give to the police, and I did not need the potential trouble when and if I was running away from the TAWF FAMILY OF WASHCLOTHS. That all did come to pass of course, and a blind man with three canes and five prayers could have seen it coming. But I can dig this thing up and prove my claims are all real, any time. This fly is in suspended animation in a large paint jar that is air tight with two fitting lids. One lid contains breathing holes, and the other does not. So if you replace the lid so that this thing can breath, it will endlessly come back to life. I also have pounded it with my fist at least ten times, placing it back into the jar, and it literally after about five minutes or so, resumes back to normal an dis very much alive again. Simply put, the thing won't fucking die. Speaking of fucking death, it is now 6:00 on the nose, and I am getting A MAJOR FUCKING LEFT SIDE DEATH ANGEL ASSAULT, FROM SIR MORTIMER MORTINO. Why won't he go bother the fucking Easter bunny and see if he has blood cells on his door and maybe pass by and quit buzzing all the time in his mother fucking ears, Jesus Christ Almighty for crying out loud, oh world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE END, AND SMELLING 'GOUUUD'!!!

COUNTERSTRIKE OF 3:39 P.M., ON 13 MARCH, 2020:

MMMMMMMMMMMMMAGNESONIC:

Computer, hear my MVP (Mind-Voice-Print). You will be totally absolutely crushing, obliterating, annihilating, and devastating, wrecking, ruining, and utterly wiping out, all of my enemies that are viciously persecuting me FOR THE PAST 65 YEARS, WITH MAX-POWER AGAINST ALL PERSONS AND FORCES BEHIND THIS DEATH ASSAULT, EVER SINCE MIDDLE 2019, AND ON THESE MOST RECENT 13 MARCH, 2020, WITH A MAJOR DEATH SIEGE AND ASSAULT FROM MY UNIT #605 NEIGHBOR FROM HELL, and that is all a part of DONALD TRUMP'S ICPE-APE-TECH death strike on me, ever since August 15 of 1986; on a crush-destruct order, under GENERAL-ORDER-189, max.-power. Open-Command, General Order #7. Use G-901, G-1133, G-14, G-719, G-13, CG5555-QP4 sub-code, under G-917, CG-2, under CG-18, and HOLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Computer, 'MAGNESONIC', on an 'I' to 'D', A/B—TONE, PHASING PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM; you will now be transmitted the two empowerization-transmit tones, or ETT'S.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

GO TO G-189, under G-1133, CG-18, AND S---T---O---P

THE TORTURE AND SLOW MURDER OF MARK WAYNE MOHR BY TRUMP AND HIS MOB,

CHAPTER 15

BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

MOUNTAINPEN'S LUNAR PHASES CHART:

FRIDAY, MARCH 13, 2020

CURRENT PHASE IS:

WANING GIBBOUS 4:6

N.M. WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 WXC6 WXC7 F.Q. WXG1 WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6 F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5 WNG6 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4 WNC5 WNC6 WNC7 N.M.

[{(03-13-2020)}]

3:00 ANTE' MERIDIAN

FRIDAY MORNING

13 MARCH, 2020

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Friday the 13^th, what should I have expected for Crissake???

MORIANITY FOR MILLENNIUM 3

No people; I have no intentions of trying to get the truth out on the 2020 Census. Obviously, between what happened with the dude over at the Toronto Dominion bank, disappointing me the other day, by not being at all interested in checking out my truths, and was only concerned with lovely Merry; on top of the quite fucking obvious truth that I am AGAIN as I was before a decade ago, being back door cleverly threatened NOT TO, by circumstances that are surrounding me. A chile can see it. If I am in transit at this very time, then it is hard to be a part of the census; and hopefully, I am not the only one here who is able to see these endless MILITUFORCE TRICKS AND TRUTHS. Now I'll update the Blogaudian-ship here with the results of this ongoing day.

The asshole next to me went downstairs, according to my nabe at the end of the hall, Donnie; and he is complaining about all of the rest of us. This is an old tactic done by CRIMINAL PEOPLE EVERYWHERE, and every damn fucking D.A. knows this only too well. Still, many times it works, and the guilty go free to endlessly pursue their wickedness while us poor good and innocent victims continue getting endlessly and royally screwed and shafted, forever and ever. Welcome to life for so many of us UNFORTUNATES AND THREE+TIME LOSERS OF THE EARTH-PLANET. I left my note in the area where notes should go on the building's management office door, and that is all I can do. I am willing to be fucking polygraphed about my so-called horrible noises, women in here at three in the non-Patty morning, and all of it, so let's see if Sir-605 dude is ALSO WILLING TO BE POLLYWOGGED. Oh boy, uncles Billy, is this going to be a bloody mess, Sir Adam Schiff, maybe BOTH Adam Schiff's, in complete candor here, folks!

Here is the updated information I got from talking to me' pal Sir Kevin, downstairs, when I went to leave me' note in the office drop. He told me that the 605 dude is merely holding somebody's damn loud CHI-DOG for a while and that it is not his dog. He also informed me of some other wild shit, and yes, I know Kev is absolutely trustworthy. He said that my 605 slob next to me, who was there before this current monster; did not ever move away from here, and is on the 4th fucking floor now, in a one bedroom unit. She wanted to get out of her studio type of unit, the same type as my unit is. So she never moved. As for the stupid peace sign, I guess they're both fans of peeps like sixties hippie Marcucci and the rest of the English Singers of the day, and many others. But he insists that they are in no way related or even friends of each other. So yes, I can be wrong, and I'll be the first fucker at the gates at all times, to admit to it WHEN I AM WRONG. I think my loyal Morians all know that part of me by now, huh Mister Islander Joel, and without anybody getting any heart attack-ack-ack-ack-ak's here, yo. No people, I know when I'm licked, and when I need to make a tactical fucking retreat, endlessly reminded of a wild and beyond totally surreal conversation at a security guard gatehouse on Valentine's Day of 1988, with my pal David Roth, and the great illustrious United States © Copyright Office to this day, has the copyrighted cassette tape that I sent to them with that conversation on it, on this following MUSIC PROJECT:

Public Catalog

Copyright Catalog (1978 to present)

Search Request: Left Anchored Name = Mohr, Mark W

Search Results: Displaying 1 through 25 of 28 entries.

[ 20 ]

Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-

Apitamy of harrasment [sic] : pt. two.

PAu001148157

1988

But as for telling the world about my family; I feel that anyone who truly needs proof, including the CENCUS BUREAU; needs to go the © Office, and simply goddamn access this MUSIC PROJECT:

[ 13 ]

Mohr, Mark W., 1954-

Saga of song writer Mark Mud.

PAu000501582

1983

You see people, you all have a very high Abby Carmichael tolerance FOR COINCIDENCE, if you don't see these powerhouse realities, and no sir, I do not need to write any life journals, journals, or memoirs, because there can only be the one explanation for any of it, and I have no intentions of ever again asking anyone to RISK THEIR DAMN YELLOWSHEET PAPER JOBS, FOR POOR LITTLE ROTTEN NOBODY ME. How come the authorities of the great CRIMINAL JUSTICE SYSTEM are allowed to not believe in a lot of seemingly randomized happenstance events, and then turn right around and expect all the rest of us to do JUST DAMN THAT? To quote Cuzz-Don here, and our 45^th President; “This is so unfair”!

Okay then, I have no Soronson DNA to work with. I only know that I am a rare A-NEG blood type, and that the thirty-eight week conception date:birth calendar makes some good sense, and I know what lovely PHHH did to me and how it even led to a very wild and world known rock and roll song, that should have been called, “Under the Pier” if its title was more truth-telling. Still, no I cannot prove a damn thing, but if you think that I believe for one goddamn second that the resurfacing repressed MEMORY-DREAM of 5 October of 2008 is not the clinching proof of all of this for me, then I'll simply quit right now. Hey, prove me wrong world, and Sir Clarence Harris. Remember people, he tried hard, and so have some others in my past. They COULD NAUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mouse mother fuckign hacking IS MAJOR AND HAS BEEN FOR THIS ENTIRE DAY NOW. WHEN I AM UNDER ANY KIND OF ELECTROMAGNETIC HACK OR AM HIT WITH A DEATH WEAPON FUCKING UP MY HEART AS WELL AS MY SHITS; THIS IS WHEN I KNOW I HAVE GODDAMN FUCKING HAD IT, AND NO ONE WILL HELP ME IN THIS HORRIBLE EVIL FUCKIGN COUNTRY CALLED AMERICA!!!!!!!!

THIS IS THE WORST DAY, WEEK, MONTH, YEAR, DECADE, CENTURY, AND MILLENNIUM OF MY ENTIRE LIFE; AND DREAMS SEEM TO TAKE ME DIRECTLY INTO MATCHING SHIT RIGHT MOTHER FUCKING HERE IN 'SO-CALLED-REALITY'. MY DAD'S ELECTRIC RAZER-SHAVER FOREVER, I GUESS. WELL, I JUST HAD THE POLICE OUT AGAIN, AFTER WAKING UP AT JUST A FEW MINUTES PAST TWELVE NOON, TO MY HORRIBLE ROTTEN ENEMY #605 NABE FROM HELL, BALARING HIS NOISE-MUSIC AND SUFWOOFERS AT WALL-SHALIONG LEVELS; AND DEFYING ME, AND LYING TO EVERYONE, SAYING I HAVE WOMEN IN HERE ALL NIGHT LONG, AND THAT LOUD NOISES ARE COMING FROM MY APARTMENT ALL DAY AND NIGHT, WHEN I AM HERE ALL ALONE, AND QUIETER THAN A MOTHER FUCKING GODDAMN CHURCH-MOUSE! I TOLD THE TWO OFFICERS THAT THE HOUSING AUTHORITY WON'T TALK TO ME OR EVEN LET ME MAKE AN APPOINTMENT WITH THEM SO THAT I COULD MAYBE BE ALLOWED TO MOVE INTO A QUIETER PLACE FOR 65 AND OVER PEEPS LIKE ME. THIS IS A NIGHTMARE STRIAHGT OUT OF THE GATES OF HELL, AND THIS MISERABLE ROTTEN FUCKING STOCK MARKET, AND MY MISERABLE LOUSY STINKING FAMILY, ARE IN A PLOT TO WIPE ME OUT, JUST AS THEY WERE BACK IN NEW JERSEY AS WELL, 10 YEARS AGO!

It is confirmed at least to me, that all of my suspicions regarding this monster-man next door to me, is part of the same family and people of the peeps who lived there before him. The very same peace logo left on the door, the same never ending wall hammering, and now today when the police came, I HEARD THE VERY SAME LOUD YELPING CHI DOG BARKING IN THERE. When I say that I know something is real and not imagined, I sure wish peeps would quit telling me I am just fucking nuts. But in any event, when I know I know something, ain't nobody ever gonna' cunt eating talk me out of it, that much I'll tell you right here and right now, yo! Why those pricks hate me and persecute me for no reason at all, who I call the 605 CONSTRUCTION COMPANY, is anyone's guess, but I think deep down and directly, that WE ALL KNOW JUST EXACTLY WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE WITH ME!!!

My grandmother on my maternal family side, always said that the 13-number was lucky for her, and never feared that horrible fucking day of superstition known as FRIDAY THE 13^th and even thought that it was a lucky number for her. Well, goody goody for her, and I am happier for her than a big fresh pale of fish from the Stone Harbor, New Jersey jetties. For me, IT IS A DREADED MOTHER FUCKING TOTAL NIGHTMARE ON STEROIDS however!!!

The police told me that there isn't much that I can do except to move out myself and find a cheap place somewhere, or complain the Housing Office. Since Debbie left the local resident manager job to move higher up in her career with the Fort Pierce Housing Authority, we now have a lady named Angel, who thinks of me, at least IMHO as nothing but a big complainer. I will get nowhere, but I am leaving another sealed envelope with her name on it, telling what just happened, at the outside office door, in an attached plastic bin on the door, for notes such as mine to be left. The police told me the incidents will keep being documented, and that I am always free to keep calling, especially if it happens after ten at night, which he indeed does do this up through past eleven many times. But only at those hours can I actually file a complaint in court against this man. These are the goddamn rules that we all live by, and to quote me' pop again, “ho-hum, hells bells, and we can't fight city hall and win”.

Don't ask me why, but I just know certain things, after decades of this MILITUFORCE BASED PERSECUTION AND ENDLESS FUCKING HARASSMENT. I knew that that major mouse and computer hack-attack of the Stacey-Lattisaw Club earlier this morning while attempting to write Chapter #38 on this book-blog; that I would be in for, to quote President Obama, “A real doozie-whopper” of a bad day, and especially when also factoring in the date of FRIDAY THE 13^th. As Ziggy said in 1969 quite often, applying to right now better than ever before, at least IMHO; “That's the way it goes”, for crying out fucking loud!

MARK WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN HUNTINGTON MOHR

I also knew that the MILITUFAWCES would need to powerfully strike me back in exchange for my PHOTOBUCKET photo being back properly on the blogs. I know how they operate and how their collective EVIL MINDS FUCKING WORK, unfortunately. Again, I know what I know, and I've never been one goddamn little bit shy of making that statement. This is not said as a brag by any means. It is said in tears and horror!

Help Search History Titles Start Over

THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

ALSO KNOWN AS (AKA) THE 'BOM'

1:17 POST MERIDIAN

FRIDAY NIGHT

13 MARCH, 2020

FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG

The continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

If you can hear me, Magnesonic, MMMMMMMMMMMMM, please wipe out these ENEMY 605 PEOPLE. Thank you.

This much I will say. I am now packing up my apartment, and am going to leave this horrendous place we all call FLORIDA. I will probably not survive this time as I did the last time I ran for my mother fucking life. I was ten plus years younger and healthier then, and on top of that, this goddamn fucking pandemic situation is now making any and all travel and life in general, quite difficult for all of us, and when shit is hard for the rest of you, then understand please, for me it is hard times TEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AHA-AHA-AHA-AHA, GRANDMA MOSES!

MIKE MCNULTY; WHERE R-U?????

BLOG STATS, “THE BOM” & MOUNTAINPEN

Mar 6, 2020 4:00 PM – Mar 13, 2020 3:00 PM

Pageviews today

161

Pageviews yesterday

184

Pageviews last month

7,420

Pageviews all time history

213,585

Followers

Pageviews by Countries

125

Entry	Pageviews
United States	1183
Turkmenistan	839
Ukraine	231
Australia	125
Mexico	72
France	70
Cambodia	64
United Arab Emirates	58
Germany	20
Japan	17

Pageviews by Browsers

Entry	Pageviews
Chrome	1996 (70%)
Internet Explorer	792 (27%)
Firefox	38 (1%)
Safari	11 (<1%)
Mobile Safari	2 (<1%)
GSA	1 (<1%)
SamsungBrowser	1 (<1%)

70.3%

Pageviews by Operating Systems

Entry	Pageviews
Windows	2504 (88%)
Macintosh	264 (9%)
Linux	57 (2%)
Android	7 (<1%)
Unix	6 (<1%)
iPad	1 (<1%)

THE END, AND SMELLING 'GOUUUD'!!!

AND YES FOLKS, AND WHAAAABITS, END TWANSMISSION.

STATS ON THE BOM-BLOG:

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

Pageviews today

217

Pageviews yesterday

189

Pageviews last month

8,080

Pageviews all time history

215,268

Pageviews by Countries

565

Entry	Pageviews
United States	565
Ukraine	169
Cambodia	120
Germany	82
Turkmenistan	64
Australia	62
Japan	53
United Arab Emirates	45
France	44
Hong Kong	24

Pageviews by Browsers

Entry	Pageviews
Chrome	1365 (96%)
Firefox	21 (1%)
Internet Explorer	10 (<1%)
Safari	8 (<1%)
DownloaderChrome	3 (<1%)
Mobile Safari	2 (<1%)
Opera	2 (<1%)
GSA	1 (<1%)
IEMobile	1 (<1%)

1,365 (96.6%)

Pageviews by Operating Systems

Entry	Pageviews
Windows	1079 (76%)
Macintosh	266 (18%)
Linux	53 (3%)
Android	8 (<1%)
Unix	2 (<1%)
iPhone	2 (<1%)
HTC	1 (<1%)

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Saturday, March 21, 2020

THE TORTURE AND SLOW MURDER, CHAPTER 45

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Public Catalog

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Public Catalog

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The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Public Catalog

The continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment"

Pageviews by Countries

Pageviews by Browsers

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Pageviews by Countries

Pageviews by Browsers

Pageviews by Operating Systems

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