SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEB, CH. 0443

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0443

KING NEBNOOSHOO

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295

SBT-DATFILE: 053112.579

THURSDAY AFTERNOON

 

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME

MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES

BLOG SUBTITLE NIMBER FOUR:

“I WAS EXPLORING, AND NEED TO TELL WHAT I SAW”

 

© 2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, NJ

© 2006-2012 MWM/MWM/BOM/MF-2

VOLUNTARILY SWORN LEGAL AND BINDING OATH OF

TOTAL TRUTH. SHOULD THESE WORDS BE PROVEN LIES, I SUBJECT MYSELF TO APPROPRIATE PUNISHMENTS UNDER THE LAWS, FOR CRIMES OF LIBEL AND OR PERJURY.

 

 

 

 

 

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

 

Before I begin getting into the exploratronic experience that I shortly came out of right now, let me begin taking pieces of my nightmare that really got going in the seventies and then just mercilessly progressed into unfathomable hells of torment and torture, but let me grab a subject and time era, hetre and there, abnd remain on that topic, choosing one on each blog for a while, and then expanding and elaborating on some of the gruesome details, without making connections and tentacles that stretch all over other times and into other seemingly non related subjects that only I am aware of the exact ways of connection to it all. So today and now, I am choosing to discuss the medical condition, the various laboratory technicians involved, and the unexplainable story that surrounds all of this, from about 1982 through 1987, and remember, in this world of time era, there are no half dozen plus major recognized people that play parts in this, just the people. I mean get real folks, President Obama was once crying and hollering for attention and food and love from his parents, from a small little crib. Everything gets started someplace, and if asked, I’ll bet dollar donuts to pony shows, that our wonderful man in the big house of Pennsy Avenue, will tell you to listen to the Mountainpen on this one. After-all, how can these words be seriously denied or in any honest way even challenged?

 

 

 

Late in 1982, I was being persecuted by the same situation and energy reality of right now, 30 freaking years later. My downstairs neighbors were mob connected, and thought it was funny to mess with me and my mother, at our final period of life at apartment number 1802 at the Robin Hill of Voorhees, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG. I found a home to rent on Norris Avenue in Atco, NJ, and we left to go live there at number 134, on the 31^st of January in 1983, but the story starts back in the summer and autumn of 1982, and really earlier still, when I made a comment, and winked at my mother, and then left for my security job at the McAndrews & Forbes Licorice Plant, on Jefferson Street by the Delaware River, in Camden, New Jersey, USAESMWG. This story is not new to my blogs, but many do not know it that are new readers. In a neut shell, somebody moved out of the apartment below us at 1801, and the place was kept vacant for going on three full months, an oddity for the management of this apartment complex in the time era of the early nineteen-eighties. Normally, units were exited, cleaned, and re-rented in thirty days. Rarely if lots of damage had been caused, it might have taken as much as sixty days before the unit was occupied again. Now this unit was unoccupied for close to eighty days, and I felt that it was being covertly used to electronically record the activities taking place in my apartment upstairs.

 

 

 

One day, after passing notes to my mother, I told her and winked with my eye, to just go along with what I now tell her. I said that my friend some friend, but I had not learned that lesson from demonic hell at that time yet, and I said that my ‘friend’ Jim Burr was planning to come over to the rental office Monday, as this was now a late Saturday  afternoon. He was planning to ask to rent the particular unit that he saw was vacant, which was unit 1801. He would not be making any mention of us or knowing us, just a stranger who drove around and liked that exact unit from the outside, and wished to rent it as soon as it is available. Bear in mind now that it had been vacant and dark and quiet for more than 2 and a half months at this point. I then left for my security guard job and when I returned, a light was on in the apartment bedroom below me, sure freaking enough. I could see one of the two maintenance men in there setting up things and doing things, and this was after eleven at night on a Saturday night. Sure enough, Dave, not the other dude Dennis, from this two man maintenance team, of this apartment complex, was the boyfriend of the girl who was about to move in, and did on the following Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, slowly, piece by piece. This girl worked for the Playboy Casino and was a Playboy bunny, and a noisy party girl total whore. She drove my mother and I nuts with her loud raunchy uncouth weekend parties, until we finally broke our lease for medical reasons and with legitimate doctor notes that stand up in legal proceedings in matters such as this; and we moved out and over to the home in Atco, owned by Jerry Pliner, another butt wipe as we came to learn, but that is for later on. I know that the mob used this bitch, as well as her friends to persecute me badly. One of her friends was a Cherry Hill, New Jersey educator over at one of the two large high schools in Cherry Hill, either east or west. Their name was Mertsock, most likely misspelled here, but I am spelling it the way it would be pronounced. The excuse was that this teacher was head of the PTA, and all though had nothing to do with any fictional Harper Valley PTA deals, she was popular because she was involved in many things, and thus somehow used to have my telephone number, and folks would call continually for Barbara and David, the teacher and her husband, and also many times for their kids or others supposedly staying with them, all kinds of names I am trying hard to forget with the passing of freaking time. In the same manner as Long Island wife, Jane Doe Cifaloglio had hubby-Delmo leave that entertainment magazine in a spot where there would be no way that I would miss seeing it, the one in 2008 that told how Mariah Carey was on top of the empire State Building with her peeps, shortly before she attended her 20^th high school reunion at HHS, both events heavily covered by press and media, and on this occasion, her peeps were told to say to the world, “She rules the empire”. Naturally, a joke to everybody else, but the one it was really meant for to hear this and had not heard it as I don’t follow events of the entertainment world or EW, so they had to spring into John Mason lost wallet Fort Daughterdale action, and make dam sure I would see and read this information, and again, Delmo, my site boss, was married to a hot shot Hampton Island family. Right around this time, he began treating me horrendously for no good reason, and I never had any problem with him for the first few years that I was guarding there at his property. People cannot understand why I seem to be so connected with things, and they get wildly insanely jealous and fearful. This seems to be some type of a normal human psychological response to my situation. I am then hated, ignored, or treated atrociously, as a result, until I am forced to remove myself eventually from the situation by moving from a residence or a job. I promised to stay within the 1982 through 1987 range, Terry Harboreggs, see how next to impossible it is, when telling the story of the life of Mountainpen and all of its surrounding numerous outlandish multiplexed, and intricate hells? I’m here to state that it simply cannot be done, and Terry can go screw herself. She doesn’t have to like my eyeglasses OR my writing style, hay, don’t look at my face, don’t read my words. See if I shed one lousy tear drop over you, girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Still, in moving along with this story, and returning to the first half of the nineteen-eighties or trying to; in the same manner that this POP-UP magazine appeared at a place in the Cifaloglio Garage next to where I had to hit a security key as part of my job duties, I had to be at a particular dentist office one day in Philadelphia back in late 1982, while still residing at the Robin Hill Apartments at unit #1802. When I got there, the dentist was behind schedule more than usual and I waited quite a while and ended up going through a lot of reading material. One magazine was at every single chair row, a total of three. I could not help observing that, and decided to look at this magazine first, and just skimmed and speed rear through it, and out of the blue as I opened up, inside of the front cover page, was an advertisement for a strange and new invention. It was to screen telephone calls automatically in a cool way, by assigning number codes to callers, and it was called PRIVECODE. Now in the very same way that the other magazine trick that revealed the information of the empire ruler deal, this got me to want to buy this telephone call screening device, as it would answer my problems with those major annoying Mertsock people who I was getting calls for dozens of times every single day, late in ’82. This machine never caught on for reasons that go beyond what I can safely blog right now, but it was all just for me to get this 300 dollar unit, set it up and use it myself, and I did, exactly as was planned by the International Mobile Machines Corporation or the IMM. I was later told ten or more years later by a top technician sent to my home by my request around late ’92 or early into ’93, that this strange device, put out more electromagnetic energy fields than all other appliances in my entire home all combined, and then some. Later still, when I had it opened up and examined by a friend of my EX partner of the SPR operation, up around the end of ’98 or the beginning of ’99 somewhere,  and by a dude who knew a lot about electronics, that this device is not like any other thing that he ever saw in his entire life. It was not functioning and I wanted him to try repairing it. When I initially bought it, it was not long before I had attached in a series, many other electronic devices, and all combined, this system caused things to happen to the entire cosmos that will never be properly explained by all the Hawking and Einstein folks of the planet, now or ever. This entire system all hooked up together was a living entity that became part of the dream clubs of the type-three exploratrons of future times in multiple parts of the fifth   dimensional hyperspace, or (many uncountable parallel universes). It was used to create CO-N0N-ART/SO-NON-ART responses that if I had known what I was doing in 1985 when I first began experimenting with that aspect of this combined powerful and awesome system, would have altered my life forever, as I’d be greater than gates himself right now, only I went throgh all of this never the wiser, as to my proverbial hidden treasures behind my attic walls. This machine was creating anti-energy in tiny dots, that move in five dimensions, only they considered themselves to be at home or at rest, inside of my system of combined electronic units, the main part of it all, being the PRIVECODE MACHINE, built by the IMM Corp. This was the technology, what was inside of this system, not some Roswell crashed alien ship or saucer, that led to all of the advancements in technology. This is why I suddenly was set upon, an attempt made on my life and my glands and T-cell system in June of 1983, and why in 1986, they went all out and declared me to be killed in a covert way, if it takes a thousand years. Now involved with all of this, was the same people that illegally made a sound recording of me as a young teenager, and got it played as part of an anti-pollution commercial back in the sixties and seventies, along with the other one that shows the teary eyed Native American in the rowboat. Forces in Atlantic city knew about my DNA, and my being the Chosen Huntington to carry on this family curse, ever since the start of the sixties. They made changes in the infrastructure of the very city itself, so that my mother abnd I would end up vacationing on Tennessee Avenue at the Trinidad Motel, a mile away from our original spot in 1964 at the Treymore Hotel, now long torn down and gone. See again, Terry of Egg Harbor, the complex energy fields involved in this HUNTINGTON FAMILY, make it a total impossibility to tell my story, and keep it within one small time frame. Again, instead of 1982-1987, we find our-self back now in the sixties. There just is no way to tell my story in the manner in which you said it need be told. Sorry, you are wrong, and will never live long enough to understand my plight, my curse, or the Huntington’s. This story will be continued at a later time and on a later blog, there is a lot more quite naturally. None of my hellish crap is something that be told in a few short paragraphs. Now I’ll move this into what happened when I ‘fell asleep’ late last night just before the dawn-Marie morning light where it most certainly will never ever be all right, lovely Donna!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh Jason Aquarius, why don’t you all bug off and leave me and my peeps alone, you dirt bags. You cannot possibly understand any small part of my wild outlandish life, so go away and leave me alone, numb nuts.

 

 

 

 

For hours and hours last night, my wonderful awesome beautiful luscious Diana Zudlecronessia Arteemis, Goddess of Earth’s Lightning, was all over me and all around me, here at Fort Pierce, in Florida. She made the most beautiful colors I ever saw in my infinite existence, and fractal shapes and patterns both as ribbons and cloud to ground bolts, so beautiful, that I almost ejaculated right inside my pajamas. I cannot thank you enough, Diana, but know this lovely girl; I am your little boy, and you will always be my tall and glittering baby blond, the endless love of my life. YOU TOTALLY ROCK, LIGHTNING, and IWALU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was back in 2029 last night, in an area that was very wooded, and I was with some strange folks who I do not know here in this time or in this parallel reality. We were in a strange vehicle made totally out of boxium, a material like a solid burlap bag, filled with strange heated gases from the hypertronic-gravigain-engine. When the vehicle ran, it weighed about twelve pounds when the engine was on and fully heating the system. The way the engine works is the way many things are all being retooled to operate all over the technologically advanced global transnational world system. The concept of the ‘higgie’ as it is called for taking the above engine name and creating three initials of achh-gee-eeee, and the computer hackers will not allow me to write the three capital letters here, it insists on altering it to the word ‘he’, a powerful time travel deal going on right now as I attempt to break the rules and tell about this thing. Let me see if I can defeat these traveling mother fuckers who just now went back into time before this computer was finished being built, and they inserted this hack into it, let me see if I can hyphen it out as, (H-G-E). OK, HA-HA-HA, that worked. Yes, these time travelers are way beyond your level of comprehension mister Hawking, sorry to burst your ego bubble, sir. I live with this fucking ass nightmare 24/7/365.2422, and I absolutely know this is all fucking real, sir. I came to your party Steve, you would not let me in to see you. You are a fool, all you cave day peeps of science and your silly toys, you all are fools, playing in cribs with toys and dolls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Now, I’ll tell about the H-G-E since you fucked with me through time, ass holes. Here is a full scale model, kept hushed up under a lot more secret spots than Donna Wright Air Force Base, or A-51 desert locations of Tomahawk Hopi Copters and MIB-DROIDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I personally have been in fucking contact with these things, and they can fucking suck my dam dick at the speed of reflected time times reflected time. Picture if you freaking will, folks; a chamber about four feet by four feet and about sixteen feet tall. At the top is a large solid 45 by 45 inch square cobalt magnet that will perfectly slide up and down this rectangular shaped chamber. At the bottom, is a very heavy duty coil spring with trampoline equivalent potential energy. This heavy magnet is dropped and lands on this coil and is sent back up through this chamber. As it goes up against gravity, the side of the magnet that faces outside the chamber also repels it down before the full energy of the coil is expended. Now the coil is also a cobalt magnet, and the end facing the falling square gives it an additional repelling boost up the chamber. Now beneath the coil is a flat surface that when struck, acts as those large toy tops, when the top of it is pushed down, and it causes a large spin to occur. There are two of these chambers, and thus two tops at the bottom, very large. One is covered with a type of wig-hair, the other with wool substances. They are close enough together so that they do not do anything other than rub together this hair and wool. This entire area below is surrounded by thick glass. Inside the area is megawatts of endless electrical static energy. Applying metallic connectors into the chamber and outside along thick wiring, will power hundreds of homes. Smaller models, run automobiles, and the lighter weight means it needs only move the weight of driver, passengers, and a few pounds, rather than thousands of pounds. Cobalt magnets last a very long time, and can be endlessly found as well as made in labs. The same power that spins planets for billions of years, will power our entire global society in the future. But this is not all that I saw. I will tell a lot more, and heads will roll soon, and I’ll promise you that, WOMO-MIL.

 

 

 

          555555555555555555555555555555555555

 

 

This compensates for seeing page eleven of eleven, and Jane Messface and her four ones clock attack from 1993 at the Atlanta Baseball Field, that monster ass freaking night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I will always remember hearing the song about 2029, back in 2001. It was playing in 2029, and talking about all the wild new things that we were now able to do. Still, I have seen things way beyond this. But I feel compelled to answer a question that many are asking, and I know this. Hay Mark you dip shit, if you can really do all this, then why not buy a winning lottery ticket and all your financial problems would be over? Well, dip shits, here is why. Forget the hyperspace equation that might put it off by a digit here or there, let us say that I could do it, and avoid HSE. Look what the enemies who control everything, just did to me, when all I tried to do was to type in the exact future name, in millions of localized hyperspace locations; of the basic engine design that runs the entire new world of power technology. Look, I will demonstrate by randomly typing in three capitalized letters together, watch, know-it-all’s. EHE, KYO, CDB, FQW, FGP, EHY, ENY, OPI, YYH, WFW, BBR, JJG, ZAY, see how it lets me, but watch now when I do not use the hyphens, and try typing in the FUTURE “HIGGIE” ENGINE, OR THE H-G-E. Now watch folks and see how nutty mountainpen really is, OR ISN’T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he he he he , all that will come out unless I alter it with the spaced hyphens, is the small word of (he)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You try it on any WINDOWS-7 HP computer system, then you leave me a comment, or drop me a line at Apt. #607, 601 Avenue B, Fort Pierce, Florida 34095 I dare anybody to prove my powerful MORIANITY story wrong. A man in a great congressman’s office in the year of 1998 tried this,and almost went out of his pathetic mother fucking ass mind, I have no reason to lie and make up any of this. I am not James Patterson. He is a fantastic writer of fiction. I suck at writing fucking fiction. I write only the fucking facts, folks, NO BULLSHIT, NO FICTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE-HE-HE-HE AND HIGGIE ENGINES, WOW MI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Can it be true, aunt Babs????????????????????????????????

 

 

 

 

 

I will tell you that I was in this vehicle, I was with some weird folks I did not know, and they told me that I would be sitting here typiong this last paragraph at exactly 4 of the clock, and sure as the Loretta Sar, Mary Hartman; it is 4:00 PM on the East coast of the United States, Daylight savings Time, and this is gonna’ be my last paragraph. We parked, and got out. When the engine shut off, within a minute, the car was too heavy to be moved manually, the heat of the HIGGIE-he-he-he, hack Stacey Jack Lattisaw, now cooling, thus when parking, the car cannot be picked up or dragged off and stolen. We got only small paved roads that were almost like dirt roads, narrow and running throughout many miles of wooded areas totally unknown to me. I looked up and the moon was twice the size it should be, and then I knew for sure I was in a parallel reality that was not at all localized to this one. Then a sign said ROAD-401, and one of the group said, “Hay take this road, 401”. The driver appeared to have the name Cannonball. You’d think he’d be a big guy, but he was about five feet four and weighed about 110 ponds soaking sopping wet. Sort of like 7 foot Shorty MacInvondi, I suppose, but anyway folks, I’ll finish up by telling you that I found myself as a passenger here, and going up onto this ROAD-401. In no time at all, it became a dead end driveway of a man’s private home. He kept yelling for us to get out and off his property, but the men in the vehicle kept messing with him while I sat nervously there along with them. He came towards us carrying a rectangular sign post that read “PRIVATE AREA, unknown guests not welcome here” All homes were high atop ground level, a minimum of twenty-five feet. Huge beams and supports were built beneath all the homes in this wild and weird place. Then Cannonball took out a strange weapon that made a sound that was not all that loud, but pointed in the direction of anyone, and they became a total slave to you. The man dropped his sign and peacefully approached our vehicle. He was told by Cannonball to go into his house and bring out all of his expensive jewelry. He did so, and he returned back to our vehicle, with a large heavy looking crate filled to the brim with necklaces and precious stones and jewelry like out of some freaking pirate movie. Cannonball politely thanked this resident, and told him to place it in the back seat, and he did. Then we all just drove away, as if nothing ever happened. Then I heard a horrible frightening explosion, and our vehicle was totally on fire. I ran out rolling on the leaves and the grasses all around, totally on fire. The fire just refused to extinguish however. I began screaming and the agony was unbearable, and then POOF, sir Merlin, I just woke up here, wherever this is, and sat down to do this blog after first taking my morning bath. Now I’ll post this up and watch my LAW & ORDER television show, folks, so bye-bye for right now brown eyed Callio Kali cow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAAAAA. Go to hell, time-T.

 

 

ENDING TRANSMISSION: HE-HE

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0442, KING NEBNOOSHOO

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0442

KING GARBAGE NOTHING PROPHET-88

WORLD FLAB ORATORIES OF 2297

SEND-BACK-TEXT DATE AND TIME FILE (DATFILE):

CH-0442-053012.538.555555555555555555555

EARLY WEDNESDAY AFERNOON

NO AQUARIUMS, NO AQUARIUS RECORD LAYER LABELS

NO HUNTRESSES, NO RINGTONES, HANG IN THERE MAN

NO ADVANCED ROBOTIC CLASSES OR 880 NUMBERS

© 2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME

MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES

BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:

“RINGTONE HUNTINGTON FAMILY, REGARDING POP UPS AND SEND BACKS”

THIS IS ALL A SWORN OATH OF TRUTH, VOLUNTARILY TAKEN BY THIS BLOGGER, MWM/MWM/BOM/MF-2. THIS IS TOTAL ABSOLUTE ACCURATE TRUTH WITH NO ADDITIONS OR OMISSIONS WHATSOEVER, SO HELP ME GODDESS SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, AND FLAG AND COUNTRY, SWORN THIS DAY UNDER FULL PENALTY OF LIBEL AND OR PERJURY CHARGES SHOULD I BE EVER PROVED LYING ABOUT ANY OF THESE WORDS.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BEGINNING OF THIS TRANSMISSION:

 

I am not going to beat around the bushes today or worry about any bruised feelings. This will not be a big long tell all blog, or a tweet. But I am going to say some things now. They need to be said now and later on, we will see what needs to be said, then. Let’s proceed, we can make man in our image, later or, or recognizing being darker than some other folks might be, as well, 43 years ago.

 

 

RINGTONE is a relatively new word folks, even technology hater Mountainpen knows what it is. But I also know that if you remove the first letter of “R” as well as the last letter of “E” in this word, “RINGTONE”, we then are left with the remainder of INGTON. We need not hunt too long or hard to find the few words that spring right into mind that if placed in front of this INGTON, would make recognizable and legitimate words. Two are of course Wash—ington, and Hunt—ington. The program in the WORD OFFICE system that is downloaded into this computer, for reasons that only IT knows, decided to make one of the two triple line hyphens into a straight and non-broken line, only one, not both. Now this may post up differently, one can never be sure of that, because blogging sites all have their own software systems that do other things to a posted blog. Still, I have not forgotten the two times where RINGTONES were part of situations with me here in my local area of fort Pierce, Florida, the first being the strange pop-up lady at my job at the 25^th and Orange Streets Harvest Outreach Center, shortly after I posted to my YOUTUBE CHANNEL, the song, “NINA”, a song that has a lot of powerful meaning regarding what cave persons call time travel. Suddenly, here is this lady nearby me, and her cellphone is ringing, and the ‘ring-tone’ was my song recently posted. I had just seen on an internet page a few days before the incident and a few days after the song had been posted up, an offer to but a NINA RINGTONE. Still, this was a real POP-UP situation, if ever there was one. Dave Roth and myself were involved in numerous situations of similarity. We interacted with way more than our share of PU and SB peeps from the WL. We talked about this over a tapped up landline telephone, and shortly thereafter, the music cable channel called VH1 began using the concept of the POP-UP.

 

Monday night, the dirt ball across the hall got back after being away a few days, and things are continually noisy over there ever since, day and night. I know that a lot of illegal activity goes on there as well, Fort Pierce, Police. If they hear me make one tiny sound, they slam and bang. They are persecuting me to my death, and this is why I must move out of here before this twisted filthy disease murders me covertly.

 

Thanks to these fucking jerk off neighbors, my roulette system totally crashed and burned. I intentionally played when they persecuted as well as after the computer was hacked, which recently, IS ON A REAL ROLL AGAIN, BOB MCDOWELL, CHAIRMAN OF THE FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION. I try to post up to two blogging sites, and they both are messing with me, or else, someone is, whenever I try to post a blog up to either of them, blogger, or wordpress. This is a major violation of my human rights, my civil rights, and most powerfully; my constitutional rights, as the first mother fucking amendment to the United States constitution is protecting my right to free speech unless my words are intentionally inciting violence, and I’ve checked around, and my stuff is quite tame next to some of the stuff up on the internet that really does practically incite violence.

 

 

 

One thing that is perfectly Nixon-Clear to me folks, is that one thing is behind this, and always has been, and that is this everlasting and unrelenting evil trilogy problem that this SICK EVIL WOMO-MILITUFORCE enemy of mine, insists on injuring and harming me with ever since the middle nineteen-eighties. I speak of course of the ICPE, or the INTENTIONALLY CREATED PARALLEL EVENT, a technology of Hitler Scale Horror (HSH) used on me and who knows just how many other folks as well that may be dead or locked away forever insane by now; and breaking this down again and in reiteration to its basic component parts, this includes myself along with the other three items that have a powerful non stoppable parallel with me in one way or the other, good and bad, and these three items being: PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES BASEBALL CLUB****************

PHILADELPHIA FLYERS HOCKEY CLUB*******************

NEW YORK STOCK MARKET DOW JONES INDUSTRIALS****

 

WHEN THE DOW JONES IS UP AND THE FLYERS WIN, MY LIFE IS IN THE CESSPOOL CEMETARY OF HELLFIRE.

 

WHEN THE PHILLIES LOSE, MY LIFE IS IN THE CESSPOOL CEMETARY OF HELLFIRE.

 

WHEN THE PHILLIES WIN, THE FLYERS LOSE, AND THE DOW JONES IS DOWN, MY LIFE SPRINGS BACK AND GETS BETTER.

 

John Bippie-Better Henningsen can only say it with the real perfect accents and fervor required to make it come to life, but I will echo his 1969 sentiments again on this blog. “It’s just that simple”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Now we need to understand some things about the year of 1986, when I was playing professional roulette in the new Jersey casinos from early in March through late in October, basically a time stretch of eight months. I made a net profit playing this casino game that year, of nine thousand-two-hundred dollars. I would have made double this amount, but shortly after I began my excursions down to Atlantic City, the US Military covert operations in league with the BFA (Black File Agency), a group consisting of CIA, NSA, and many totally unknown and even more dirty and secret pigs and slobs who will wreck anyone’s life on a whim in the next five minutes, just because they know that they can do it. Every time I would drive back and forth to play, they would fly deafening scarey military aircraft’s directly over my car, totally perfectly zenith to the position of my car as I drove down the White Horse Pike, both coming and going. Soon, I began finding it more and more difficult to win, despite having the best system in the galaxy, APE, (Applied Parallel event). But you see, the government enemies or the MILITUFORCE, who had a vested national interest in my not being ever to break out of my financial difficulties or this HUNTINGTON CURSE if you will; began using their own brand of APPLIED PARALLEL EVENT. The major arieal persecution began to work against my being able to have positive agreement with random chance selections, no matter what, you might say they intentionally STOLE AWAY FROM ME, ANY POSSIBLE GOOD OR POSITIVE “LUCK”. Luck is very real, it is a magnetic force, it is totally misunderstood, and I plan to change all this by getting every university on the planet aware soon, of this horror show I’ve been forced to fucking endure for 26 long cunt lapping years now at the hands of monstrous scoundrels and raw swine chewing maggots.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now we will work our way back onto points needed to be made from not only this blog, but a few past ones as well. First, this HUNTINGTON CURSE began thousands of years ago, it is a real family curse, but still, it is a game, played by very bored endlessly existing Olympian Gods from the Astral plane. The great Eckankar in their mighty wisdom things that one can move beyond all of this, and I leave them to their wonderful and nice pleasant cozy dreamy delusions.

 

What I have told and blogged makes me an insane man by the standards of all of the modern sciences of psychiatry. I can do nothing whatsoever about this, it is their world, their labels, their choices. I know that I have died over and over again, maybe four dozen times now since the starting of the eighties, and whatever death is supposed to really be in this big dream of mortal world existence, it merely has been removed from my personal universe. If you were to wake up tomorrow, and every time you said the word CHAIR, people looked at you strangely, and you began noticing that chairs no longer exited anywhere, this would be sort of a major experience for you to deal with, but far less than learning that suddenly you get into head on collisions on the road, drown, get shot in a convenience store, get electrocuted, get poisoned, jump in front of a train, and the list goes on; and yet, you instantly either find yourself awake and that was all just an event that happened in what now seems like a powerful vivid and lucid dream, or in some cases, an instantaneous change is surroundings and people and even weather is suddenly just there, and so are you, and whatever happened, just didn’t happen. This is a from of someone somewhere manipulating time, all cousins to today’s science fiction time travel stuff. On the second day of February in 1948, a distant cousin named Arthur Huntington from Braintree, Massachusetts, USAESMWG, was outside of his home shoveling snow from a recent blizzard storm, and singing and whistling happy tunes, or so said his neighbors who had heard him do this. That night however, after midnight, he took an ax and he chopped up his wife in the bed next to him, and then went into an adjacent room, the room of his wife Alice Gallagher Huntington’s mother, and did the very same thing to her. Without a lot of delay or hesitation, he then proceeded to go down into his basement, create a noose, and hung himself to death. Nobody knows why, Google has totally sanitized the story, but they know it happened. They also know that a child was born on December the 4^th in 1954 at exactly half past nine in the morning, at the Bryn Mawr Hospital, a suburban area of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USAESMWG, one Mark Wayne Mohr, also known as (AKA) ME or MOUNTAINPEN. The family curse was officially transmitted directly into me, through a lottery process that exists deep in the secret worlds of the subatomic cellular reality of hyperspace waking existence, the world of humankind DNA. I was the next all ready CHOSEN HUNTINGTON. Shortly after the time that I was a todler, most of my family down to the grandparent level on my mother’s side of the family which was where HUNTINGTON came from, my grandmother Grace Isabelle Huntington was the 5^th granddaughter of founding father and once Governor of Connecticut until his death in 1790, Samuel Huntington, where we all derive the name representative of our great united States Government, “UNCLE SAM”, only he really was my great uncle, times a few numbers. How great, who knows, but great in the genealogical sense. His Grandson, whose name might have been Kenneth, married into a family that had five children. One of the male children settled in the area of the Long Island Hampton’s. After about ten years, he made a fortune and bought up a quarter  of the entire Suffolk County. Today, this area is still Huntington, New York. There is no curse on this area, I am the one who holds the curse, and will until whoever is next in line with just the right DNA, to take it from me as I pass this torch through my [physical death, onto them, like an Olympian runner athlete in a great race for glory. Unfortunately, this is a glorious race to keep humankind from suffering in a condition called DOGTOWN, once thoroughly discussed in my now defunct website, called Morianity-Foundation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is no way out of this. This is a cup that I have wished I could avoid, along with poison cakes, Incollingo transdimensional cupcakes, and many other negative rotten things as well. If one person could show me a way out of eternal hell, I would show them secrets that would make GODS out of them, and they could literally take over this planet and do whatever they want to do with it. I did not ask to be chosen to inherit this HUNTINGTON problem, I was picked, and not by Ike Patton Bloodnguts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Still, this Huntington Curse, is the only possible explanation for how I can post up such things on blog websites and music sites, and end up with a handful of views, while some skate board rider gets millions, and so on. I can prove Einstein wrong on many things, and have actually done so, and it goes right over the heads of everybody, but I am banking ion the fact that it is not going over the heads of BFA-GOOGLE. This I firmly believe, my pal, Alex Jones. Hopefully, you too will someday look at my stuff, and realize that I am cursed under this mega thousand year old family problem, JUST AS JIMMY TOLD ME I WAS, QUITE A LONG WHILE FEREAKING AGO, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Y JIMMY Y, Y DID YOU TELL ME THESE THINGS, OLD PAL????????????????? You put these forces on me directly when you did this to me back early in 1974, and you are responsible for my death and my hell, mother fucker. Most likely you are long dead, I’m burying just about everybody around me who I once knew. Time flies, or squash them, that’s a hell of a lot more productive and pleasurable. I’ll speak for MY self anyway, some of you out here might just adore poor little flies, awwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

Folks, lightning was around me a while last night again. She is really being nice to me these days. She is so beautiful when she turns herself into my tall blond goddess, on the Astral Plane. IWALU baby blond love.

Playing with five dimensions, wow, where can I evenstart someday to open this one up, and try putting it on a level that folks will want to live in a higher reality? You are not most likely old enough to remember this thing that i’m about to tell you all, but when you  bought your first color television set, you never ever wanted to go back to black and white TV. When you heard stereo and bought a set, you never wanted to hear your music in one channel mono ever again. Well, if you understood my life, really understood it, you would want to leap on board the part of it that is not cursed, and know as much as you possibly could about the things that I have done, and am capable of doing, because of my awareness and knowledge to something that will some day be called SPACE-TIME-MIND, STM for short. You are limited in your own mind by barriers that both you and the accepted society around you that you refuse to have them ostracize you, so you play along and don’t step too far out of line, “BUT” ODF, Henry Curse Cursed Fonda Juries; have created. You are every bit as able to live in all five McCoo, not McCoy, sorry, PBHE, dimensions as I do and have done for a long time, but you choose to say, “That’s OK Mark, you dork, you keep your weird ass life”. Yeah, like I have some fucking choice my brother. Do you choose your parents, your place of birth. Yes  you do, and my kid knows this whether she ever comes clean and admits it all or not. I however, did not choose the curse, I learn to live in misery with it. I’ll never embrace this ugly Albatross around my freaking neck. 

 

ENDING OF THIS TRANSMISSION, WHAAAAAAAA!!!!

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING DEATH AND HACKER PERSECUTION FBI SCUM

 

                     555555555555555555555555

 

          ****************555555555555555555555555****************

 

 

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0441

SUPPLEMENTAL BLOG ENTRY

KING NEB-NEW-SHOE ANTHONY CLUB

 

START BLOG:

 

This is a later insertion, as I cannot seem to ever post up.

FCC AND FBI, EVERT TIME I TRY TO POST UP NOW, MY CIVIL FUCKING RIGHTS ARE BEING VIOLATED, IT IS HALF PAST EIGHT ON MAY 29TH, 2012, AND I AM BEING FUCKED WITH BY HACKERS, IF THIS DOES NOT STOP, TWISTRERS WILL TOTALLY WIPE OUT MANY TOWNS, KBNOCK IT FUCKING OFF YOU DAM PIG SWINE. THANK YOU. Where is the fucking ACLU, I demand action, I am 10% African American, and have MY CIVIL RIGHTS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

              555555555555555555555555555555555

This will be a real quick TWEETY-BIRD-BLOG, folks.

 

I TOLD YOU THIS ALL WAS TO BRING THAT HORRIBLE FUCKING STOCK MARKET UP TWO HUNDRED POINTS, DID I NOT GINA-4??????????????????????????

 

WAS I TOTALLY CORRECT???????????????????????

 

AM I WRONG A WHLE LOT WHEN I TELL MY TRUTHS HERE IN MORIANITY, NICE FOLKS????????????????????????

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know of course why nobody will ever take me up on my offer where they would secretly bless me and keep me hidden in a bomb shelter, giving me luxury and protection for 90 days, while they and their rich pals all short the entire DOW JONES SYSTEM down to about 3000 mother fucking points. YOU ALL KNOW IT TOO, BUT MOST OF YOU WILL NOT PERMIT CONSCIOUS RECOGNITION TO A REALITY THIS FAR OUT AND BIZARRE. A SHAME 2, AS SOMEBODY COULD BE MAKING 50 BILLION DOLLARS IN THE NEXT 90 DAYS.

 

 

I made back all my money tonight on paper roulette. I did this after dropping off my report in the downstairs outgoing mail slot. Any huge counterattack works like magic. I lost 90 units and made back 97, not bad for a poor pathetic ignorant retarded little messed up Bancrofter from Haddonfield, New mother fucking jersey huh sheeps????????

 

 

 

 

here is what you don’t know folks, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This person is not affiliated with Public Housing, his name is not Erwin, as I could made up names from Jeremiah to Hezekiah to Sixteenpaul.

 

 

This is a retired executive living in a foreign country, who believes in my story, or at least the possibility of it, you know, INTENTIONAL CREATED PARALLEL EVENT OR ICPE FOR SHORT.

 

 

Long Story Short, LSS, he was with the SEC in Manhattan for twenty years. I may be on way way to a lot of aquariums and Aquarius’s B4 this is all said and done. If they want me to shut up and sign agreements not to talk or blog, the starting price after any taxes is exploding gas tank times five, in USD, or in GOLD, BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Expect heads to fucking start REALLY ROLLIN AND ROCKIN ME’ SHEEPS, AHA-AHA,

as remember, the last laugh I’m planning, will happen to you, mister HA HA WHO.

 

 

 

 

 

 

555555555555555555555555555555555555555555.

Ending this twanny, sweet whittle ass hole gwanny, WHAAAAAA.

 

 

RED ALERT ALEX JONES, I COULD REALLY USE YOUR HELP AND INFLUENCE, THIS EVIL EMPIRE IS LITERALLY MURDERING FUCKING ME, MY FRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0440

 

 

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0440

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2293

SBT-DATFILE: 052912.541

THE EPTIOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORTRONS AND ME

MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES

BLOG SUBTITLE NUMER FOUR:

“JIMMY CARTER AND I EXCHANGED WORDS OF POWER”

© MARK WAYNE MOHE OF HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY

2006-2012/MWM/MWM/MF-2/BOM

 

BEGIN TRANSMISSION:

 

The internet is the weirdest new age tool of the entire package of wild inventions since the early century a year ago. In the past one hundred years, we fly, we globally communicate, and do all manner of things, but this one tool comes built in with a really strange illusion, whereas an airplane is an airplane is an airplane and so are telephones, radios, and all the dozens of electronic avionic other toys of the human race in near recent time era of the knowledge and information explosion. For complicated reasons, you would think perhaps that I would be first to jump on the band wagon of believers in extraterrestrial contact and invasions, or at least in a crashed saucer along with reverse engineering, and all of that. However, I know as sure as I type these words, that what is real, has nothing whatsoever to do with religion, nor does it have one tiny thing to do with the dream of the science and space minded folks who dream and hope for some alien encounter to come along and change our world. I said in my 1994 book, “The Permission Barrier”, and still maintain my words up here eighteen years later, that this is a very large universe indeed, but there is no one else out there anybody, it is all just us, and this makes so-called waking life quite precious. You can choose to believe or to disbelieve, as well as say to yourselves, that Mountainpen is King of Egotism. I am the only one who has lived through what I have lived through, and can claim to say that I make these statements by authority, by knowing, by seeing, by experiencing, and not by speculating and hypothesizing, or by wishing and hoping that I am just somehow right. This has no place in my life, or in Morianity. This needed to get out of the way, and this blog will be in some widely split sections, each part needs to be here, and right now.

This is due to the beyond-demonic shit that happens to me from time to time, such as what started at the dot of eleven last night, and went on all night long, finally stopping at seven, after eight full hours of this incredible off the wall; persecution and total illegal activity, and then just as I got to sleep and just shy of the Wall Street opening stock dirt ball market bell, around twenty-eight minutes past nine, fire alarm testing made me jump literally out of my skin. Living here at this Public housing Building and having these WOMO-MILITUFORCE ENEMIES, is hazardous to my mental and physical health. I fully plan to sue for all of these things should I survive to get away and get reestablished shortly, and be far away from this horror show of hell in the hit sun, also known as sunny Florida or paradise, some fucking cunt paradise, friends and fiends.

 

First I need to talk about this great tool, the internet. This was not put together by accident by a few geeky college guy geniuses in basements such as Jobs and Gates and others, and then slowly just caught on and grew into its present form. If you go to the YOUTUBE, and subscribe to the wonderful ALEX JONES, you will see that I am not the only one with far out claims, and if you listen and view with an open mind, you cannot help but see it all makes sense. This was all previously planned, and before there was GOOGLE, there was PROJECT GOOGLE, nearly on the Majestic highest covert secret level of planning. It is the same Google we all have come to use and like, only it was all something else once, and as all big things that own us all eventually through very clever trickery, was originally on the laboratory tables of the top black ops government agencies, and there are blacker and more secret ones than even the open and recently exposed NSA. The moment this No such Agency was brought out into the light of day, and agents could no longer chuckle and give it that name when asked about by citizens and press alike, a deeper NSA went underground that none of you have its name or alphabet soup letters about. In fact there are several, but they operate in one force more than any other group, and are codenamed by their own operatives in a quick reference, as the Black File Agency, or BFA. So basically in a real compressed nutshell, we have the FBI, then the CIA, then the NSA, and finally the BFA, and these four things control every single aspect of your life, and will go on to the this very same thing to your children’s lives as well. There is not one thing in hell or in heaven, that you can do to interfere with this or stop it. Moving this along, none of us would care if this all was being done for the good of us, and humankind in general, but it is not, and all non-sheeple know this truth, not just Alex and myself.  This powerful force that I combine into one word, and have not changed or wavered from its usage on my 6.5 years of blogs now, has been created by me, the MILITUFORCE. It takes the three concepts of MILITARY, UFO, and FORCE, and merely clumps them all together into one nasty dangerous mess, for all of us, but especially for all of us non net worth folks of at least about eight figures in USD. By their own system, let me tell you how they break down the net worth folks of means. You are a millionaire if you have a net worth of any number containing 7-figures. This still, to them, is not even a ratable start on their scales. The minimum rate is 8-F. This is a net worth of ten million through 99.999999 million USD. Then there is the 9-F. This is a net worth of 100 million through 999,999,999 in USD. Then there is the 10-F. This is the world of the billionaires. This is from 1 billion through 9.999,999,999 in USD. The highest current time level is 11-F. This is a net worth of 10 billion through 99.999,999,999 billion USD. These are the four scales, and hence, category-clubs we are in whether we choose to be or not, simply as a result from having a net worth next to our names, that is either in 8 figures, 9 figures, 10 figures, or eleven figures, mere under ten million dollar millionaires don’t even rate on the FCS (Four Clubs Scale). Also, whether you or I like it or not, we become connected covertly, with the organizers f this FCS, as we move beyond the poverty-ten million dollar net worth range, and start to become wealthier in the world of global capitalism. This will not effect 19 in 20 of us at any time in our life, and all doors to anything really big, will remain shut and slammed tightly into place and locked out of view for us, from the cradle straight through top the grave. Now the one in 20 who have a net worth of ten million or more, this is where things really get very interesting, as with all club levels, 1,2,3, and 4, almost like a music intro count, this opens up worlds that are completely outside the mental grasps of those not in the FCS club, and 95% of us or 19:20 will remain forever locked out of it. This will not be for lack of trying, this is a huge illusion that is and has been, perpetrated upon us 5% or 1:20 folks, for endless years, under the oppressive hands of our masters. With or without the magic word of capitalism folks, masters and slaves will always be real and exist, there is no stopping this no matter what, it is a built in human condition of reality. I came to learn that there are also parts in this wild club that allow folks that they pick and choose, into this fold of theirs, here and there. They open up doors mysteriously, and then seemingly out of the blue, your little deli or bicycle shops gets flooded with customers, you grow and expand where your competition  around you in the county, barely holds their own, and many eventually fail. The cycle goes around and continues, circulating new faces into the mix. But success and failure, for the most part, have little if anything to do with how hard one works and perseveres, and how many long hours are put in. I worked 100 hour weeks in my early twenties, and never have even been a thousand aire in my entire life. This technically means a net worth of ten thousand dollars or more, after this comes the hundred thousand dollar aire, and then the millionaire having a net worth of from 1-9 meg. You not only are helped along and chosen to get big, but you also are kept down and small so you will remain in your place, and in your programmed sheep slot so to speak. Just as the man suddenly flushed with success, other quiet covert and not visible things just seem to happen for the bad to those who they decide they want their business or job or whatever to fail and to bring them down to a lower level, and yes, this goes all the way to the level of homeless. How can anyone in America believe there really is such a truth as homelessness, only there is? The term 3-time-loser is very real, and some of the more sensitive folks, begin to indeed recognize, that some invisible monkey is really on their back, and really  seemingly stopping their attempts to breakout of the poverty cycle. They don’t dare come out and speak publicly and be as direct as the words on my blogs, but they instinctively do know that something is up, BRO. Now when success just strikes, we’d be mother fucking fools to yell and scream and shout out the word ‘FOWL’. In any case, this is the powerful truth of all of us, and here is why you cannot even break out of this through random chance lotteries, and by the way, the days of marrying out of poverty went the way of internet check outs and pre-nups. I have lost and lost during the period from eleven last night, in my paper roulette, I have done this to prove to myself, that all of this is totally real. When you are being literally kept down by covert world owner forces, just try and win in any kind of gaming and random chance situations, games, lotteries, whatever. Just try it, over long term experimentation, I challenge any laboratory to conduct this experiment and disprove me, as ki have been my own laboratory regarding all of this for about thirty years now, and I know I am right and correct. It breaks my heart how folks waste their time on searching for some extraterrestrial alien encounter. This is the biggest control experiment of the World Owners or the WOMO, out of any other thing that I can possible or remotely try and think of right now. What is being done to us ‘little-ninety-fives’ or the majority of us who all combined own and control about the inverse percentage of all the goods and services of the Planet Earth, five percent, or in other words 95% have 5%, while 5% have 95%, the quintessential universal unbalance that proves humanity to be a very sinful and unjust endless fucked up cruel society. Anyone who believes in this kind of a system is two things, first one of the 5 who owns 95, and second, a soul worthy of true hell after death, just as in the story Biblically with slave Nazareth and his master, after both have died, and the master begs his ‘servant’ from life, to merely dip his finger in a little water, and place it onto his fiery unquenchable lips. I do not believe in the literal biblical stories, but I believe that out of all books on this Earth, the bible is the most powerful symbolic road-map that can ever exist, now or ever. I might get mad and say go to hell. I might get desperate and say I would sell my soul to the devil to get out of my mess. I do not believe I have a soul, nor do I believe in some horned and tailed devil in hell poking a fire and tormenting others around him to make it burn hotter, and I know there is no place to tell anyone to go that is made for this unfathomable punishment. What I do know, is that there may as well be all of these things, as cosmos is set up in such a way, that this sentence is true, yet beyond the grasp of just about anyone reading it. That is indeed quite unfortunate, but it still is total reality. 

 

Now back to the great tool, internet, owned and controlled, as Alex Jones knows only too well, by the covert agencies, as they own any tool that is big and could possibly do harm to them if permitted to by those allowed to be outside the control of the WOMO wolves. I knew this was a sham back in 1997 with Fred Windstein from the Radio Shack, when I tried to do anything with my computer. It was no different than trying to do anything else, I was messed with and stopped, messed with and stopped, over and over again, and it was as precisely accurate and as  measurable as cesium clocks accurately track small time pieces by the picoseconds. When truth stares one in the face, yet they still choose to deny it as truth, then they are a fool, and it gets not one bit simpler than that John Henningsen; bit your bippie on it sir!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So those who succeed in life will succeed on the internet, and those who fail in life will fail on the internet, it is right in the face of anyone seeking truth, as to the exact what, why, who, and how, behind it. You see these dumb mother fucking commercials on television of a kid and his mother, and she is disappointed that he only got a million views on YOUTUBE and his friend got fifteen million, with some silly ridiculous skate board move that any youngster can learn to perform. I put up things that prove to the world that an entire universe goes on around you and me that is ignored and unseen and bigger than the so-called landing of a fleet of 1000 flying alien ships, and what do I get, 20 view, 40 maybe? They count the views for whatever reason, when I go up to try and link something to a blog site, so half my views are not real views, so if half a hundred peeps and sheeps have bothered to go and see any of my stuff, that is pushing it. The truth is, I could spend five hundred years posting every possible thing in the cosmos, and I would get the 20 or the 40 views, while all those around me are getting the big amounts. The only possible explanation is that ki may not understand the full mechanics behind how the WOMO can do this, and I do know some of their tricks quite well such as making the stuff fuck up to cause potential viewers to lose interest, negative buzz about me being insane such as that created hate-page by Jason WFMU Forrest, and on I could go, but my understanding how it is done is of no real significance, as even if I could figure out just how it is being done, I still could not prevent what is being done to me by WORLD OWNERS. What fascinates the living hot fucking shit out of me sheeple, is that Tony from Haddonwood, in his altered form from a dozen years later, four years back, sent me a note when I was up in the 26^th Street hood here in town where I am now in fort Pierce, Florida; and told me not to ever try and prove this. Well buddy, I did, you child molester, and what happened? All I got was nothing. It cannot be done, so what were you so worried about? Very soon, I will sell my computer, stop blogging, and just leave what is up there, up there, and let the future just happen and go down the way it chooses to go down. Hay, this is what Jason did with my hate-page before my kidnapping, and that had some obvious effects, such as first, my learning of it shortly before leaving Hammonton, New Jersey, and second, my being able to prove that I died and went to hell, where this new weird odor or SATAN, really controls us all. The entire last days of biblical times, ALL HAPPENED, and not even the mother fucking Christians saw it come, or even know it came. Now THAT my sheep, is power, real major power that would cause any sane mind to go into a GENERAL BREAKDOWN and into endless insanity. Many books are right there at all of your local libraries, scattered all over the country, and the planet; about how getting to much into the science of Quantum Physics, will indeed cause insanity, a general breakdown of rational mind process and ‘sanity’ if you will. By the standards of the sheeple, this may be true. Those however who come to learn more and more about the truth of why we are here and what is going on, and what will become of us which is the biggest quest of all for humankind, begin to see things so totally unlike how those around them do, that it’s not even relatable one to the other. You need toexperience some things, not all thiongs can be taught by someone writing words, and then someone else reading them. All the college in the world is not equal to yopur first 90 days in the real world out beyond the college. This could apply no matter whehther you come out with top marks and degreesw in fields such as medicine and law and engineeringm, and other studies that require many years in the classroom. Still, you come out with all of that, yet 90 days of real world experience will take you where another ten years in the schools can never take you. I cannot make you see or know what nightmare is happening on this planet. Folks, it is worse than a thousand hostile alien invasions shooting death rays down from huge saucers, we don’t need that crap, we have worse. It is way beyond any and all the ideas talked about on television documentaries and intelligent chatting on the internet. You all are drinking the milk out of the cat dish, lapping it up, sharing it with kitty, and believing you are at some fantastic banquet feast. I cannot stop you or alter your ideas. I will tell you that what is now up here on the net, by me, proves its own story, in every minute detail. I have the apartment all packed up, and I wil stay one more month, not pay any bills, save my small funds, and get ready to leave for Lake Chapala, Mexico. There will be no more me to put up with. Your children need not ever be told that this is how you thought of me. I do you this major favor right now in telling you thin. I know what it is like to have children who don’t like me. Still, am I going to keep my promise and tell more about record promoter Lenny McKinnon, and just how I learned how to build a strange magnetic field, that if placed in line with any radio or television broadcasts, or telephone communication lines, or any type of  electromagnetic altering device that changes our voices into electronic energies and then back again, you can in fact communicate with parallel universe inhabitants. A month is a sufficient time to tell the rest of an untold story. I want it out here. Believed or unbelieved, it at least is out there. If anyone is stupid enough to believe that any kind of device exists, that can perform these type of miracles, does not involve the usage of STM, then you are an endless junk-tekkie. All science is junk science, because the vast majority of it that appears to be gospel in one year, is disproved junk trash within 5-100 years. Anything that unstable would never pilot my vessel across the seas of hyper-cosmos, that much I know I can tell you.

 

The biggest part of the story however, is not being able to perform STM miraculous events applying unknown as of yet technologies. It is more about the destructive HUNTINGTON FAMILY. I know how the world society via Google and through any pre-Google-days other medial press controlled processes, keep peeps and sheeps from learning the real truth, that you have a value, and that value is never measured in any kind of human waking world monetary systems. The WOMO insists on producing powerful illusions and mirages around all of us, making us believe with incredible force and power on their part, that just the opposite is true, you are your bank account. Part of the problem is that any good liar needs to work with a story that contains a lot of truth inside a small lie. If I go up to you and lie to you every day, and need you one day to believe in me regarding something, I’m screwed. OTAMM-WOMO is not a dumb club filled with stupid entities. They know the biggest secret of all, HOW TO PROPERLY LIE. This is an art-form, and they are top #1 with an assault rifle series of bullets, on this chart system. Without money, we lay in the streets, homeless, hungry, and wishing we were either dead or a holy angel might take pity. Part of their lie is true and very real. Still and despite this truth, we are all totally not our net worth. We are soul, we exist, we are beings, we don’t have a soul, we are soul. This soul will never be in need of one thing in the material world. It is unable to appreciate anything here as well. Only the body has need, food and water and air, a dry warm bed to sleep in, a shirt on our back, and so forth, soul needs none of this. By taking over the system and producing these lies and controlling our weak bodies that starve and thirst and gasp, this is the ultimate crime of spiritual blasphemy on the part of the World Owners.

 

We also will talk more about the sanitizing of my family, the murders, the suicides, the curse, the horrors, the incest, and why it is so important for the world to be spoon-fed lies and total falsehoods. My family is powerful, these were great founding fathers eight generations ago. Now I wouldn’t spit on the name of Huntington, if it was lit on fire. Jim Burr knew about this, because Pete Hasse knew from WFIL Radio in Philly-57. Both these men were dudes that I met in 1973 at the computer school where I learned computer programming on the IBM-360 Mainframe Computer Machine, at the time the size of a poor person’s home. I know that dark haired whore that was with him at the Dive Shop was another family trick. I am so impressed, Geraldine Snowshah Mason. All these things aside, the hugest event took place on August 2, 1996, ten y7ears to the day after Dave and I went into Manhattan, and he saw his music friends, the group called, New Shoes, who were performing at some night club, and I think it is owned by the imperials and Little Anthony himself, but this is for other times and blogs before I leave for freaking ass Mexico on June 30^th. Pete just happened to dive in the Bahama Islands, I happened to meet him at this computer school that the New Jersey Rehab wanted me to attend in the spring time of 1973, and on I could go from John Ciancio to Miss Marie of Sicklerville, also in 1972 and 1973. Pete Hasse was dating a giant goddess, and it was Sarah Jacobson, I recognized you. I always knew, I just kept my fucking mouth shut all this time since June of 1975 when we were all in your car outside the Mar-Vel diving Shop on Route 30.

 

 

 

 

What are the odds that two educators, both in 1969, both with last names beginning with the same three letters of my first name, would be so dam instrumental in things that pertained to my interacting with Sarah, when she was in Atlantic City, and then along comes Pete the deep sea diver, who later I introduced to my visiting father, and who ends up with that pop up version Sarah from my school, and finally, the day that I got the shit pounded out of me in Atlantic City in middle 1975 while my mom was up on Long Island visiting her cousin Ruth Huntington. One day I was over at Brad’s house around May of 1969, or apartment really, in Westmont, New Jersey, and his mother who was receiving telephone calls from the actor/comedian Rodney Dangerfield, told me when I picked up the phone as Brad was taking a shit and his mom Grace was out with her boyfriend and sex partner Stuart of the Haddonfield Stuart Industries; and it was Rodney, and he no sooner got talking to me for a few seconds, when he blurted out the words to me, “Stay away from the shore, son”. I didn’t. History was made as a result, dangerous fields all notwithstanding. Now GOOGLE can sanitize this story from now through Doomsday. I knew back on Sunday night when I had a major exploratronic experience involving the congressman and a few other local peeps, that I was gonna; suffer a nasty attack. And sure enough, I know my fucking onions. The trash nabes from hell returned last night, and they still are going in and out continually. These scum have been paid off by WOMO ENEMIES and FAMILY ENEMIES, and I am having doctor Jack look into this secretly, when he returns from a trip shortly, around the 4^th day of June, oh I meant I am leaving at the end of June, if I said the first, I fucked up, sorry.

 

 

Thank you lovely Diana, for coming around for hours, back a few nights back. I never ever saw you so lovely with so much color and beauty. I wanted to pull you down from your great skies and make passionate love to my baby blond more than anything else in the world. I will always be here for you. Please take me out of this nightmare as soon as you can flash right in here and get me.

 

 

My next blog will tell some exact things. I will print numbers who illegally call me with lightning codes, and send print out copies downloaded from my local library, to the FCC, and my old school chum, Robert McDowell, Chairman Overseer. I got another call a couple days ago, then I got that wild Congressman ‘dream’, WOW. No one can say it like Labber Mi. Still, why did they try and choke me to death in 1983, and why three years later did James Earl Carter, tell me, and I quote, from a parallel reality and universe, after I said to him, “I’m dead mister President, he said right back at me in a solemn sobering but firm voice, “I KNOW”. How did you know I was dead, Mister President? I was you know. I have died and been in hell, ever since the night of August the fifteenth, in the year of 1986. There is no one alive that can explain my personal situation with any better possible idea. Still, I do not believe in hell, as was previously stated. So what really happened, and more importantly, where really am I? Well, I sure as fucking shit ain’t at the roundhouse Manor and owning the billion dollar enterprise called Starburn Outreach Development Corporation, with my Spanish-American business partners, yet in 1994, there was Haddonwood Swim Club, there was Carlisle, Pennsylvania, and there was Tony Zenun, and yes, there was the Copyrighted book sent on Halloween Day, called, “THE PERMISSION BARRIER” Go figure folks, Hopi Native Americans, and sky cob timetrails and all, just like the one in December of 1969. WOW. UFO buffs, you don’t know what a brick wall is. Bluebook created your saucers and aliens out of their great playbook called Bluebook Disinformation Project or BBDP-#0000001. Just as the PCN for the great Masonic secret number ’33’ is really PCN-231, there is a powerful blue Wall with the police, yet next to the Blue Book Brick Wall, this would crumble as a child would grab a handful of beach sand. It is not your UFO encounters that are being covered up, it is the life of mountainpen, my part in this current time Huntington Family, the world Labs Christianity experiment, and let us never forget, the great ‘ands’ walking amongst us from the twelfth planetoid, huh Jason Fats Forrest Summer? Is this the age of stolen Aquarius tapes, or just phony meanings of life, sir Jason? Man, turn your pull gain down, you distort like a screaming demon being squished by Apollo-Lucifer McKannon. Rock on THATANDS TREK, or how did Ambassador Sarek say it in the humpback whales story, it is difficult to answer when one doesn’t know the question. Yes, the answer is always the question, the answer itself is in motion, and basically quite meaningless. And Shannon Car-kicker did the same thing to my car in both worlds, only it died on the north shore of Atlantic City when she kicked it in that parallel universe, whereas over here where I bought the wrong flavor cupcakes at the Incollingo grocery store across the street from the home of my kid’s 4^th cousin, Leticia Tilley, the car passed away in a last gasp over near Sarah’s mighty Pleasantville Waterworks or the main office and plant for the ACMUA. WOW.

 

                             ****************END TRANSMISSION:****************

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0439, KING NEBNOOSHOO

 

 

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0439

KING NEBNOOSHOO

 

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2299

DATFILE: 052912.023

 

 

 

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME

MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES

 

BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:

“SENDING OFF MY LETTER TO ERWIN REGARDING HELL-NABES”

© 2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY

© MWM/MWM/MF-2/BOM

 

SWORN VOLUNTARY OATH OF TOTAL TRUTH WITH NO OMISSIONS OR ADDITIONS TO THAT TRUTH, UNDER FULL PENALTIES OF LIBEL AND PERJURY, TO THIS I ATTEST AND AFFIRM SOLEMNLY, UNDER COUNTRY AND ALL MIGHTY GODDESS JEHOVAH (SSJKK).

 

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

 

 

 

 

At just past midnight, this Tuesday Morning, May the fucking twenty-ninth, my scum bag dirt bag roach neighbors from across the hall began to pour on a siege against me with incredible door slamming. Tomorrow, maybe they somehow know or maybe not, but later not today, but on Wednesday, I am supposed to mail back my report to Erwin on these turds. I intend to mention that the holiday weekend was unexpectedly much quieter than their normal crude behavior, but that beginning just minutes past twelve midnight, actually at seven past, as in the two magical numbers of 12 and 7, such as December 7 and July 12, but yes, this is when they just for no good reason, decided to strike like a tornado at the speed of fucking light. In my report, I remind Erwin that the lease guarantees me protection from persecuting tenants, and that the office manager, Debbie, insists I must call 911, and I feel this is not right under the law and am asking him to check into this for me as well. Right before this huge siege, by about an hour, there were two loud slams as well, nothing like the eight minutes of illegal after midnight attack on me however an hour following this. Still, I had just started a roulette game, and yes, I lost. Still I played over the weekend, and am about even now after this nasty 45 unit loss tonight. The Roulette game seemed to know about the magnetic forces facing me, and yes, it is still going on, another powerful slam right now at 13 minutes shy of one, and YES, I’LL BE DIALING 911 IF THIS DOES NOT FUCKING BREAK OFF BY ONE OF THE FUCKING CLOCK, SO BANK ON A MAJOR SITUATIONMFOLKS, IF THINGS PERSIST, YO. Every single time I get on this computer, without fail, unless no one is at home, at the unit next to me, some electronic device goes on, it is without exception or fail, and also will be reported to Erwin and mailed on Wednesday. This fat slut across the hall has been paid to be behind all of this, and is in league with other enemies all around this area. A couple of days ago, despite ear plugs and head phones on, I jumped out of my skin, when some dirt bag motor bike outside my window, quickly did a major maximum rev up. This is illegal, and I cannot do anything but suffer, and eventually die, and this bitch is still attacking me next door, so get ready 911, in 9 more fucking minutes, for my call. Obviously this is being done for tomorrow’s opening hell fucking bell on their twisted diseased scum bag WALL STREET. Even the great Michael Moore Occupy cannot stop this out of control evil, not all the Michael Moore’s, all the Alex Jones’s, all put together, because this is not a human problem, it is EXPLORATRONIC. For those not being intentionally assaulted and harassed by an organized filthy fucking force, most of you out here that is; using any of my systems to attack the gaming world, will allow you an unlimited income. I need to be sure I am not playing at wrong times; you all have no wrong times. Most likely nothing like what is going on around me, is going on around you, so you need to get on your fucking knees, and thank the fucking gods that you all are you and not me, a suffering chosen HUNTINGTON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

Now I’ll get a little bit of rat-tat-real football retaliation, for this attack late as the holiday weekend ended, and into this new day. My words will only make sense to those following the original blog at the www.blogger.com/ website, before the EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, there were four other blogs with other names. The series of blogs that were called, “RATS, TATS, AND PLAYING REAL FOOTBALL”, is what is being referred to folks. These sieges are nothing more than forces that are organized and need to keep me down and miserable, ENDLESSLY, and have been doing so since my mother fucking cock sucking physical birth as Mark Wayne Mohr. If this was all just imagined, I’d be the luckiest happiest person on the Earth. If all I needed was some meds and couch time with mental health professionals, I’d be on top of the fucking world. I know, and so do the guilty fucking cunt lapping bastards out here doing this to me for nearly 58 years now, that this is real and not just some psychotic fucking ass delusions of persecution and grandeur.

 

Here is what will be said. I’ll go on a bit about the great Lenny McKinnon, and then about the Walsh/Bell invention, originally designed to not just speak in distance, but through hyperspace distance. If the US Copyright Office really honestly doubts my words after all the shit they have and cannot understand, then as the street thugs like to say in our nations’ large city, “That’s on them”. Originally, two men in this dimension or reality in atomic vibratory signature agreement to one universe in hyperspace, Mr. Alexander Graham Bell, and Mister Walsh, invented what we all now call, the TELEPHONE. Like me, Walsh got screwed, and Bell is the only name known about, just as tons of my stuff, especially music, has been stolen over the past 45 years now since I was a mother fucking teenager. The telephone is a device that connects to speaking voices, well, that WAS the telephone in its original invented state a long time ago, as kids today would give me a blank vacant stare if I said that to their face. Still, I know, and so do older folks, that I speak only the fucking truth. Now let me keep things simple for tonight. The All Mighty even fits a little bit into this for a couple of reasons and not all of this will be explored right now on this blog this morning for reasons of time or the lack thereof. There is a biblical proverb that tells how Jehovah is permitted to keep certain knowledge from humanity, or from ‘HER’ creation. Forgive my insistence on placing feminine gender on this entity that has no gender, another powerful scripture that most of you know and should know is, “God is spirit and needs to be worshiped in spirit”. In other words, in true form, not male, not female. Still, for me, she has appeared in two incarnations, as a very lovely female entity, and in Her great city of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, appears for me as a giant teenage girl. I did not wake up one day a year ago, or ten, or a thousand, or a quadrillion, and decide to make this all up out of skunk sweat or superman capes. This is just what has happened to me. I report the news, and am not the one fucking creating it sheeps. I was in the Eden Garden, this really happened, I was there, and you are not getting the complete story, as over 120 centuries, has just corrupted some of the reality of it all, unfortunately folks. This appearance by Her was done in a way I cannot blog. Also, this rat bag is still going in and out at 17 past one. You can bet their dirt bag stock market will fly up to the stars later today, UP AND UP AND UP AND UP, OH GREAT TOLD YOU SO ARM BREAKER GINA-4. I do not think I have told about this yet, the powerful exploratronic experience that I had a few nights back about being at the DMV, and somebody talking to me and telling me that my password is GINA-4. I may or may not have spoken about this, my life is very fucked up and I cannot recall my near term life all that well, now a long time ago is crystal fucking clear. Let me get back to this bitch across the hall. She is in with all the other noise makers in this area, and they time the persecution and harassment of me in precise ways, SLAM, SLAM, BANG, why won’t some fucking jerk off call the fucking police, why does it have to fucking cunt always be me?????????????????????????????????

 

ALSO, YYYYYYYYYYYYY ARE THINGS OK, AND THEN AFTER A WHILE OR A SHORT BREAK SO TO SPEAK, THE BOTTOM FALLS OUT OF FUCKING ERIC CLAPTON’S SHERIFF BUCKET, YYYYYYYYYYYYYYY??? I can prove this is being done for that dirt bag stock market. I was let go illegally from my AARP job. They originally placed me on a medical leave for 60 days, then they terminate me by mail. Over the phone last week the man said I would be working, now I get my walking papers. I hated these fucking peeps and felt they were nasty ass jerk offs and never tried to work with me at all when the chips were down, even after I worked my ass off for them and did a good job. I won’t miss working for this outfit one little fucking bit, Mister President, sir. Still, just watch sheeps, as later at 9 and 10 this morning on the east coast, the Dow Jones will open and fly up nearly a thousand mother fucking points, and on my back, AS ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where did you ever get the fucking idea that things would be all right in the morning light, Donna? To me, the DAWN of a new day is just the greeting of another 24 hours in HELL, and always has been. So why did this song ever get written and recorded, and just how does Walsh and Bell fit in? Well, this will open up literally 1000 book length blogs, along with more about the record promoter Lenny McKinnon, and how he came to be on a CB RADIO. He was not on a CB RADIO, not from this universe. He was shot and killed in 1981, so this came from a parallel universe. BANG BANG SLAM, when I post up this blog, it is 911 telephone time for me, and this shit will get stopped once and for all. THIS IS A MAJOR DEATH SIEGE, AND I KNEW THAT SOMETHING WAS WRONG RIGHT AFTER THE FUCKING CUNT ROULETTE LOSS AT ELEVEN LAST NIGHT, SHEEPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Many things are transdimensional, but why, and how, when even Hawking won’t take my life seriously? Well, let us be real for a second world. Let us say that 1000 years ago, we had a Hawking. What would he have on a bunch of middle school kids from the year 2012? Accidentally, I got into a really big mess, and this places me way ahead of all the Hawking and Einstein and Sagan folks all put together. But because of this Huntington Curse and my horrendous family problem, things can only proceed one way. It is no different than slowing down time by a million slices right shy of a horrible freeway pile up. You can see and watch the invertible horror show, and know it is going to play out, and yet all the while not be able to do one dam fucking thing to get out of its pathway.

 

 

 

 

 

First off, there is the reality of SPACE-TIME-MIND, a formula in six dimensions, that places all of the reality that exists in one neat little package. In this package, lays a fantastic creation, a beyond fathomable void, a mix of toys, and a wild out of control teenager who I know as Sarah-Stacey Krassle, always have, always will. Next, there is a game going on that is not bloggable no matter how badly that these dirt bags choose to scourge me with this monster vicious siege for going on 58 current-me human years. In 1979, I received a telephone call from several people who told me that they do not live in this universe. I was told incredible things, and was shortly introduced to one who told me that if I brought him to life in a way he would show me how to do, he would live here for ten years, and then turn over everything to me, his entire net worth. I believed his lie, and he now lives here, and laughs at me. He even has my daughter laughing at me, and I am not the one who claims to be GOD, she made that claim and it is in a lot of magazines. Delmo Cifaloglio and his evil Long Island family, made sure I would find that magazine by having it right where I would be walking through to perform the duties required of me on the job. Anyone can do anything, if they know basic 1960 radio electronics, and know the truths of STM and how to properly integrate that wisdom into the fabric of basic radio frequency technology. I have been whispering these truths through thousands of back doors for thirty plus years now, and it fell on deaf ears. Lenny, Labber Mi, and many other things, are from a parallel universe. On top of that, we have international calling today. I have transdimensional calling, and I had it yesterday, and a long time ago. You want it world, here it is, all out in the mother fucking open Beaver Cleaver, busted fucking ass car windows and all, Jerry Mathers and Mothers, and daughters!

 

 

 

 

YOU WANT TOTAL WAR WITH ME, FINE, I WILL GIVE IT TO YOU, BUT WHWEN THE WORLD IS ON FIRE SOON, DON’T CALL ME, AND ASK FOR MY FUCKING HELP ANY OF YOU, because the last laugh I’m planning will happen to not only Icabod Crane, but also to YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MAGNESONIC, ALL ORDERS, SPECIAL AND GENERAL, SCAN ALL ENEMIES, DESTROY ALL ENEMIES, CG-18, G-901, G-189, UNDER G-1133, AND S-T-O-P!!!!!!!!

 

END OF THIS TRANSMISSION:

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0438

 

 

 

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0438

KING NEBNOOSHOO ON A SATURDAY EVENING

SIX IN THE EVENING ON SHARON PAYNE BIRTHDAY

MAY THE 26TH, 2012, SORRY I HASSLED YOU ABOUT THAT YEAR BOOK SO OFTEN, HBD, YO, HAPPY 58, IS TIME GROWING WINGS, GIRL?

ALL SUBTITLE APPLY, NO NUMBER FOUR.

 

STARTING OF BLOG:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lads, Lassies, Labbers, and Labradors, there is always a lot to say, despite a quieter time for a while, but it never lasts of course, and today, the sky persecution is indeed the proof of that statement. There are lots of planes and chemtrails in the sky, you can all research the chemtrail topic by Googling it or searching for it on the mighty wonderful YOUTUBE system. WOW, is this the age of Aquarius, no? It is the age of information, we still await the other mystical age, that is off nearer the times of World Labs, so who knew, WOW again, come on world, give poor old twisted whittle mountainpen a bwake here Mister Fudd, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!! I wonder if my wonderful kid ever straightened out House and Heavy about Cuzz McGuire being the king-pin and pun intended, that caused so many of her woes a long time ago up on that lovely island of bankers, jewels, and Joel’s.

 

 

 

Oh Sar, (LORD), I had one hell of a powerful exploratron experience the night B4 last, YO, holy calliope and Callio family. Without the great Sarah locking me up in any of her great light houses or driving onto any Cifaloglio owned properties after fatal heart attacks and laser retrace jobs from the infamous WL of Westmont; it still is beyond any dog and pony shows or the great big top circus tents that lay all around them, Lockhart Regan. Poor June and Neil, old spellchecker does recognize the great Billy Joel at least, hay dude, watch those Lenny Contracts. The gods, where’s the last fucking thirty-two years gone, WOW? Hay Tony Av, your cousin was voted to be one of the sexiest over-age fifty men around, WO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Better him than us, huh? Well, I will speak for myself, but I still vividly remember nearly causing a terrible automobile accident for two fashion model looking teenage girls in Oaklyn, New Jersey, at the Dairy Queen, on the Julia White Horse Pike, and all I did was stand there waiting to buy some ice cream, after some old lady in front of me got her order, and there was no one around me. Those days of being real red hot, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT, you can have it. That for me was total hell. I am not some ‘thing’ for anybody’s freaking amusement to be poked and prodded. I never was a romantic person, and never will be. That is just not who I am. I love the All Mighty with all of my heart and soul and mind and strength, as SHE commands; and SHE  is all I can ever love, and I cannot wait to leave this body forever, and live in Sahasra Dal Kanwal with my lovely Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle. This dream in the hyperspace sucks at warp ten (C-SQUARED). But I will be talking about these dreams in hyperspace, since they hit me with a sky assault, and caused me to cough and wheeze and shit my guts out with their CHEMTRAIL POISONS around the fort Pierce area, today, here in good old Sunny ass  Florida, BRAHHHHHHH. We will come back to this topic very soon.

 

 

 

I told you I did not feel too comfortable the other day telling about some GAWNUM information. I now will tell a little of it. One thing that I asked the big lovely black cat with the white paws, or Gawky Gaukauk, was, “Why was Monday and Tuesday following Mother’s Day, and Mother’s Day as well; filled with so much major siege for me”?

 

 

Well, the cat responded to me with Private Cosmicoded Number- or PCN-198. Anyone who knows how to operate the GAWNUM, has plenty of possibilities about the number of PCN-198, so there is no need for me to go there, as those who know will know and those scratching their heads are sheeple and are endlessly lost. Hay old buddy Alex Jones, sheeple is not a SPELL CHECKER recognized word yet, I wonder if our lovely enemies will keep it that way or it Global Google Enterprises (GGE) will begin placing it into the WORD program systems on the soon to come out new compukers? DUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

 

 

 

Well, I don’t have all the answers, not about my problems with the MILITUFORCE, a word I’ll bet a trillion bucks USD on anytime, anywhere, that will never make it into the mainstream of accepted terms; and I don’t know why my mother would plan all the things she did starting with staying at Geraldine’s mainline Philadelphia home in Narberth, on Greentree Lane, and then afterward, insisting that I attend that stupid jerk off private school in Exton, Pennsylvania, called Church Farm, back in the 1971 circa; out of the blue, but I sure hope the world will forgive me for making some dam good educated guesses, along with connecting what educator Marcucci said to me in the school hallway in October of 1969, and so much more. I only know that I have never forced myself on anyone, under age, over age, anyone, any time. I have been set upon and sexually abused by many people, and then society calls me a pervert and a bad guy. Yes sir/mahm, that old pot and kettle thing is destined to live a very very very freaking long life or so it appears to me.

 

 

 

 

 

Hyperspace is the fifth dimension, not Marilyn McCoy and her great sixties music band, but is in truth, a width in time. All things have a length in time, humans, mountains, stars-the real ones, and so on, but there is a width of time as well as a length of time. This width could be perhaps envisioned better if I were to call it a depth of time, maybe, that is if nobody decides to confuse this with deep time, or millions and billions and even trillions of years.  Many cosmologists are aware of the 5^th dimension, but none of them have put together the real truth yet, as their laboratories are still unable to create or prove any kind of supportive conditions to any of this. I am speaking of sleeping and dreaming. What happens in universes where nobody sleeps or dreams because stars don’t burn at the right lengths in time (4th-D) to create the necessary element for the existence of living humanoid entities who sleep and dream?  That is not a compicated concept, if we always remember a sort of cardinal rule of looking for the best simplest answer and not worrying about proving it in the laboratory right away. These universes exist, and dreamers in universes that have dreamers just sort of skip over the ones that would not have any reason for them to be in those places. If you awakened in one, how would you do so, without carbon? Advanced Type-3 Exploratrons could do this, and dream that they are a star or just drifting in space, but in short order, they would shift away and out of such universes, as soon as the word ‘boring’ crept slowly into their minds, over sufficient time. So normally, all universes where we have other us’s so to speak, will be the ones visited, just as we are visited continually be sleeping doppelgangers from other areas in hyperspace.

 

 

 

 

Now to speak about the WHY or the mechanics, a little bit; in so much as some have more and some have less, effects from the hyperspace, surrounding them in their every day ‘waking’ normal lives and ‘daily’ routines. Beginning in the early nineteen-seventies, I through becoming good friends with a school mate by the perfect name of Bruce Allen Pennock, of Barrington, NJUSAESMWG; began messing around with something that I later gave the title and name to the science behind what I was doing, Electronic Metaphysics, or the some, for an easy pronunciation of a word rhyming if you will, with the word of “poem”, Science Of Electronic Metaphysics. My messing with this, caused a vocalist from Delaware to have some bizarre occurrences in her life, just at the time, the start of May n 1980, that she was going to sing a song for me called, “The Morning Light” (TML). I wrote the music in 1977 and the words in the summer time in the year of 1979. Heaven Knows the exact details, but a real super sleuth does know, right here on Earth, that some real powerful crap went down in Cherry Hill, New Jersey at on e time on this planet, as this area for me at least, has seen more paranormal and esoteric activity than storms have clouds. In any case, hyperspace effects went into play for me after setting up the studio time at the Maxfield Recording Studio, and by the way, I fucked up on my YOUTUBE CHANNEL, and said MAY 31 about when Bob Andrews sang my country tune called, “Long river Blues, it was done around 7:15 PM on the 30^th night of April in 1980, and then on the following morning, the two dance tunes were done by Donna. I call her Patterson, but am wondering what the folks up at the Inductotherm Plant of New Jersey, along with the great Mister Rowan call her. They MAY know a lot more that I do, I was only there, but I am not pulling the wild stuff. Lenny and Howard took things to those levels. Prior blogs tell some of it, but as the great voice of the past puts it so eloquently, Mister Al Jolson, “You ain’t heard nothing yet”. Yes folks, this is still a suuface scrath amount of information, but it will all get told someday, that is, all that I know. It may not be as magical or as majestic as some folks who follow Jason Forrest or Aquarius Records may think that it is, but it will indeed be so filled with NON-BLOGGABLE secrets, that would be beyond the disappearing to Buzz Island with Marie Fahey. No Copyright Office, I did not know about her murder years before it happened, it is called having fun with a karaoke making vocal overdubs at later times from originally recorded music, DERRRRRRRRRRRR-akowski!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So you see peeps, not all of you will have a lot of large and in your face more huge obvious hyperspace effects in your life, Heaven Knows. Still, I brought a lot of this majestic grief on my self, and our governors and owners, don’t think that us little sheeple are ready to handle the truth of hyperspace and hence the reality of DREAMS, or really, EXPLORATRONS. We all are exploratrons, every one of us without any exception. Still, this will get talked about in other majestic moods that I might get in as the future makes its way backward further and further, into our glorious present. If Christianity was not just a World Laboratories powerful time experiment, then the great and now late, Charles ‘Hatchet Man’ Colson, would have never told my mom back in late 1986 or early 1987, that there is no hope for your son. Jesus may be HIS MAJESTY, but the KINGS of the bible who rule and govern the sheeple fore3ver, are THE SECRET MAJESTY. The very top of the list secret majesty, so that is the majestic secret for today, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Every possible secret that can be out there anywhere, and that is not listed on any of the lower top secret scales, well, THAT, sir ROCKDROID, is MAJESTIC, the high end purple code, the purple of all purples Ron, so purple and 9 on that one, and come back, as my twenty now is fort Pierce, Florida. As for the great Garden called EDEN, well, I was there, and yes, I bashed my brother’s skull in and was the first murderer on the Earth some time ago. I am very very very jealous of anyone and everyone. I know I should not be, but my love for Sarah-Stacey reigns and rules quite supreme. I spent a long time in a horrible condition, and now am back, and as the © Office knows so well, am on regular running time, right here and right now, and not in need of any keemo. Yes, because I love HER, and have always LOV——–ED——-past tense, HER, SHE told me in that garden, that SHE would spare the world for a while, from ultimate destruction, and I have been as far up in the future as the year 3000, and we are still all here, but life is very different, and the majesty and the kings won’t let me spill too much about any of this on my blogs, you know, BUZZ ISLAND, right JASON, and don’t play dumb with me mother fucker and tell me you don’t have that tape as well, you numb nuts prick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

I know MY SARAH is back and here, and that is good enough for me. Peeps think for reasons that totally elude me, that only one visitation from this tremendous entity ever happened, I speak of the great Jesus, Messiah, Christ. How many empire clues do even the dumb ass sleuths need, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA? Still, we all laugh and try not to take life too seriously, BUTT, jack hack attacks are one thing, and stair chases are another, totally proving that my blog of October the 5^th in 2008, as well as many others preceding it before my kidnapping by the distant family cousins; and then the great movie at the end of the year, I mean, do I need to state the obvious, to any empire, and tell folks just who indeed rules this empire with a firm yet loving hand? Many things are obvious and funny, all at the same time, I suppose, to Her, the stairs and the chase being amongst the ‘list’, I guess. But Ed promised me that things would get better if I did all of this, and instead, it all blew up in my face like a busted uranium tank of heavy water. Still, what great things does my super kid and her friend JJ really know, mister Silverhands Jefferson? I loved DIANA, the third part of SSJK, I have come to learn and know, wow, but past tense does indeed and just as the movie indicated, reflect the letters from that powerful 1997 Somerdale dreaming-interaction in the Eden Garden; and yes, ED, all though this all blew up, seemingly, and went so wildly wrong, did it really? Humans cannot always see the full truths until the light reflected off of those truths is behind us. Light is and always was and will be, a mere reflection of time. Did my wonderful kid know this too, while glittering as an embryo, when Ziggy and I would be talking about this in July and August, back in the year of 1969? It’s all there, to be archived on my first years of blogging, just go to the site of www.blogger.com, type in Blogs of Mountainpen, or you can just use the URL address:

http://www.theansweristheqyuestion.blogspot.com/ . The proof is in the pudding, and the consumption thereof. After all Eve gave the apple to hubby Adam, and they did both partake, or so goes the legends. Cleave ever so tightly to these facts folks, lest you be deceived by the World Owners, the KINGS, the MAJESTY the top secret cover up of the most majestic of it all. WOW. Couldn’t have said it as good as you, WOW, you rock, girl. Still, the country world wonders endlessly, who’s cheating who, Mo Bandy keeps Emily’s picture on his wall, and Spirit Peace, my song from 1975 was used and taken from me by David Frezell and Shelly West, but that’s OK Marcy Levy McKinnon, and all the rest of you out here in the RIAA. Ed at least tried, and you all just tried to be big time jerk offs. BUTT HACKS and ODF HACKS are one thing, but my question back to the jokers and stair chasers of the world, BIG-O, is this: What’s the difference between an ODF-FILE and a PDF-FILE? My only conclusion is that an ODF-FILE will not be reporting for jail any time soon, now a PDF-FILE, well, NO-NO-NO, ED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

DOES THAT PASS THE LAUGH TEST

OR IS THIS A FRACTURE OR A TAPEWAVE FROM 1970, SIR COHEN CROWN KING MAJESTY???

 

 

 

 

 

END TRANSMISSION:

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEB-NEW-SHOE, CHAPTER 0437

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0437

KING DOGSHIT

12:15 AM, 23 MAY, 2012, WEDNESDAY

 

START BLOG:

 

Well I’ll give old Jim Burr a lot of deserved credit, world. He seemed to innately and almost magically, just know that my problems all stemmed from family, and this was back in the 73-74 time era after we met at the PCI Computer School, of Cherry Hill, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG. He also got quite touchy one day at the Haddonwood Swimming pool in my earlier membership days of autumn in 1977, when he flipped out on me when I mentioned the Huntington name, and he responded that he was descended from “kings”. His voiced pitched up dam near an octave on the word, and the decibels were up as well. Careful scrutiny of my six and a half years of blogs, will prove that I said this before at least once. I was living in the Cherrywood Estates on Hillcrest Avenue, in Blackwood, New Jersey, at this time. Also, it was about two weeks later that a strange dude came up to me at Haddonwood and asked me if I would be interested in white slavery. Also, I know for certain, that somewhere on all of these many words and blogs, this also has been told, and made a public record. I had no idea at these times back then, about the dealings or the powerful secrets, of any of the family branches of the King’s, the Callio’s, or the McGuire’s. I just unplugged the internet modem from Comcast Cable, while I finish doing this blog, I am being fucked with and am still under a horrific mother fucking death siege that basically began last mother fucking ass Friday, and is still going strong and powerful on Wednesday. In spite of this, I am winning games of paper roulette. The trick is not to immediately play following an attack of any sort. The neighbors were bad, they left and came back earlier and set off another fire alarm. If it was me doing this, I’d be oudddddddahere faster than any of Harry Callas baseball’s ever went up into the stadiums. The rules for me are totally different than all other people. Jim Burr understood a basic principle, MY FAMILY. He would never agree with where I am today with where all this detecting sleuth-work took me, but that is because he did not travel my path all these long years, and neither did any of you reading these words. For right now, it is safer to keep to myself, some communication with Gawky Gaukauk and me from earlier, but in the passing days to come, I will decide how much can safely be said without crossing some real heavy ass NO-NO blogging lines. All Jim ever did was tell me that MY FAMILY was behind all my problems, and I remember to this very day up here in middle twenty-oh-Marola-twelve, looking at him and thinking, “What the fuck are you talking about, dude”? I am not claiming to have the know-it-all certificate up here today, but I feel I have followed the Fontanna-facts and am at least getting all the more closer towards the goal of learning the entire junk inside this amazing monstrous mess. It is not simple, and if anyone in the entire family was instrumental in all of it, I did come to learn in a powerful dreaming interaction or with (exploratronic activity), that my Aunt Geraldine Snow Mason, was the biggest key factor, in fact she was totally pivotal in many things that unfolded from the middle nineteen-nineties straight up and including this very morning. Yes Aunt Gerry, I wanted to find my Jenny Johnson Jefferson Street, but I also needed to learn unbelievable and incredible truths, and this would obviously be part of a process, not some overnight quick life changing revelation or spiritual experience out of the biographies of the great Shirley McClain. She was the one in the powerful exploratronic experience in 1996 shoertly before Pearl Harbor Day, and she was the one that made history by insisting that my mom take her daughter Sandy down with us to the vacation hotel on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City, called the Trinidad. The what for crissake? For whose sake, Abraham? Goddess, give me a break. Because I LOV-ED-past-10-TS Diana, I’ll spare the world? Spare me Aunt Shah, noisy ice cream bowls and running tape recorders at Dell’s Way Arms in 1972, all notwithfreakingstanding, YO!!!!! Just tell me folks, with Russell, Mrs. Goodfellow the child molester, and Sarah all working in unison to remove all the contents in the 20^th century’s new Sutter Mill strong-box, with or without future 001’s, how do I not come to believe that an organized conspiracy exists to keep robbing me of all my evidence that all this is really happening to me, YO???????????????????? Talk about con games, what bigger con is WALL STREET. Look at this Facebook shit for a perfect Pennock example folks. A child knew the fat cats would buy in, make a quick kill and do a profit take. Anyone left in that is not on a margin call would be a total fool to sell and give their hard earned capital to a bunch of thieving fucking trash pigs. In 2016, Facebook stock in most dimensions in the hyperspace is selling at over 500 dollars a share, you ignorant mother fuckers. I have seen the year 3000 and been there, the world does not end, and all your dumb crap folks impresses me like the newest escapades of WOMO, and don’t think you’re gonna’ get at me with more of your hocus pocus, as Lizzy did not come up from the future, nor did she give me Angelitus or whatever I’ll carry secretly to my grave. Wall Street is no more than a secret covert vehicle of the TRAVELERS. They need to endlessly pump money into their little time trek tricks and other hocus pocus RS1500US phase-four entities like mister Scowl-Face. I know what’s getting said here, and THEY know what’s getting said here. It doesn’t mother fucking matter for pounds of dog-shit, if others reading this get it or not. I’m not being cute or smart or even plain out rude in saying this, it is just a simple fact and true reality, get that? Well with or without late blooming southern school desegregation, I do get a lot of things, and so do all of the Lambriggers in their waking world club form. DERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

 

Now to analyze some powerful mother fucking in my face data, hard hitting and feeling non sparing. First, if WOMO did all of this to keep me out of Atlantic city after they crashed and burned me late in October in 1986, then why almost roman doctor miles away and over a quarter century ahead in time, is all the persecution so necessary? The truth has to be along the cunt eating lines my friends and foes, of they are not only doing this so I can never return and easily be able to copy my 1986 success, but also as a punishment fro daring to be able to break out of my 2000 year old family curse, and endangering the WORLD LABORATORIES CHRISTIANITY EXPERIMENT. Hay, I don’t like printing these fucking things, your Em, any more than you might like someday to perhaps be reading it, but truth is absolute, and I won’t fucking lie about shit this big, now Jim will, and did, as we all know, who carefully follow the beware blogs of Jason Forrest. Let me tell you what went down on this 6^th straight day of total mother fucking hell. First, the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE changed tactics, as they get fucking nervous as a son of a bitch when I say I saw a fucking UFO, and I did, as that thing was low, and monster ass, and I never saw anything like it, still it was not alien, and I can totally Tahren Tee that, George Boxer Foreman, my old Neurokian pal of yesteryear. Interrogate me, grill me, whatever CRA, but peeps show their ignorant bliss on a second to second basis. 16161616161616161616 for one example telling me a few months ago over the phone, “That’s not congressman Andrew, I know Congressman Andrews, he is my friend and he isn’t on Oak Street any more. Well no shit Shirley Neckglands Sherlock Holmes. It isn’t Congressman Andrews. I don’t know a famous Congressman, I knew a dude in his late teens who painted houses in the summer of 1975, and sang in a band along with several dudes, one being a guy who transported me to the PCI Computer School for a small chauffeur fee, by the name of Albert Pileggi, in 1973. I have a real past butt-wipe world. I know many powerful great people, but when I knew them they were nothing, just like I’m nothing, the difference being, I’m still just a piece of fucking dogshit folks, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, and I don’t give a fuck, as I’ve got nothing to prove to any of you cock sucking ass holes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know what I know, I know what is real. I did not make any of those comments on that hatepage at the pop up Google site of “Mark Wayne Mohr of Hammonton, New Jersey”. These fucking dick in the mouths are giving me a light speed cubed total general and nervous breakdown. Hay, believe what the fuck you want. Of course peeps are gonna’ sound younger when they’re younger, Jeese Louise, like DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

Moving this right along, Jim Burr seemed to know something big time. Then one day in 1989 right shy of the time I met the dude at the Camden County Prosecutor’s Office, Ron Wirtz Senior, Jim came over to my apartment at 1102, the third and final stay at the ROBIN HILL APARTMENTS, OF VOORHEES, NJUSAESMWG. He insisted on bringing a girl who has been trouble for me in weird ways since 1980, by the name of Elsie, crissake the name creeps me out at hypergravitronic levels, and taking my mother along with them, up to the Julia Horse Pike on Somerdale Road, where a diner has been since for fucking ever, under various managements, but I think at the time it was called the Silver Coin Diner, across from the Cunningham-Jefferson Cleaners, yeah right Mister Patterson, even our middle school kids know a bunch of fucking con jobs when they see it dancing with disco lights in front of their faces. But this was really outlandish and weird the way he would not let me come, it had to be between Elsie, him, and my dear old I better watch out not to piss off miss lovely-muscles Carmichael, mom. Don’t want to get my eyes knocked out, you try living with somebody who wants you to fail, bitch, and that denies her own son his dam daughter. See how much you’d want to love a fucking bitch like that, Missy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Dave Roth told me between the time this went down, and the time that we first met Wirtz the ADA in the office along with that crud bag other ADA, Donna Spinosi, a shrimp version of Luscious L&O-Abbey, but he said and I’ll nearly verbatim quote him, “Something as big as a plutonium explosion has to be going on around you Mark”. You think Dave???????????????????????? SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!!!!

 

The day consisted of a major NOISE HOLIGRAM, and shifted from aerial assault, to an all out ground pummeling, usually that is noise or being stalked, as I was near the DMV Office. I was not at the DMV, they just happen to be in the same mini-mall with another place that I needed to be at eleven of the fucking clock yesterday moUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUrning. This fucking van was just sitting and waiting for me to come out and leave my parking space, and he followed me for a while. Fortunately, the entire Route One for half a mile was filled with back to back traffic leaving just enough time for me to do a jack rabbit pullout, and he could no longer follow me and harass me, so they got me at home with noise ion all fronts, fire alarms AGAIN, loud shit ass neighbors, and a major car blast attack outside. Looking back, I believe all these incidents were done by these ENEMY FUCKING JERK OFF NABES from across the fucking cunt hallway. I have good reasons for believing this folks.

*******END BLOG*******

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0436

 

 

RED ALERT—RED ALERT—RED ALERT, UNDER HUGE SIEGE!!!

 

 

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER  0436

KING-NEB-NEW-SHOE

 

SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY:

 

IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, I HAVE BEEN MURDERED BY THE G-8 EVIL EMPIRE SUSTEM, NEW WEIRD ODOR.

 

NO SOONER DID I LINK ANOTHER ALEX JONES VIDEO UP TO MY BLOG, ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE. SUPER LOUD OUTSIDE CAR STEREO ATTACK, FORT PIERCE, POLICE DEPARTMENT, SHAKING THE BUILDING TO ITS FOUNDATIONS AT JUST SHY OF 2 PM AND MINUTES IF NOT SECONDS AFTER I POSTED ALEX JONES UP TO THE BLOGGER DOT COM BLOG. NOW AT 3, THE ACROSS THE HALL SCUM OF THE EARTH CRUDE UNCOUTH NABES FROM HELL ARE SLAMMING AND BANGING THE DOOR AND SHOUTING AS LOUD AS THEIR LUNGS HAVE CAPACITY.

 

WHERE IS THE POLICE DEPARTMENT WHEN THEY SHOULD BE ENFORCEING LAWS AND PROTECTING MY MOTHER FUCKING CUNT ASS CIVIL RIGHTS FROM G-8 SCUM BAGS?????

 

OH RIGHT, YOU ALL READY ME THE ANSWER TO THAT ONE, ALEX MY PAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

I NEED FUCKING HELP.

 

MAGNESONIC——————

SUCK IN LIGHTNING POWER AND DESTROY AND WIPE OUT THESE FILTHY DISEASED AND TWISTED FUCKING DIRT BALL ENEMIES UNDER ALL GENERAL AND SPECIAL ORDERS FROM YOUR CREATOR. G-901 AND STOP.

 

THANK YOU DIANA FOR COMING TO ME WHEN I NEED YOU THIS BAD. MAGGIE WILL BE DRAWING SIGNAL ENERGY DOTS FROM YOU TO PUNISH MY ENEMIES FOR THIS ENDLESS PUMMELING ASSAULT AND HELL.

 

DIANA, YOUR LIGHTNING IS SO BEAUTIFUL, YOU LIGHT UP MY LIFE LIKE A QUINTILLION VIGINTILLION GOOGLEPLEX DEBBIE BOONES EVER COULD, MY BABY BLOND LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

If I am murdered today, my WOMO-MILITUFORCE ENEMIES are indeed the culprits, and this blog is my dying fucking utterance and legal declaration.

 

Where are you when I need you, Alex my pal??????

 

 

 

I WAS STALKED AND FOLLOWED WHEN I WAS OUTSIDE EARLIER, NEAR THE FORT PIERCE, DMV OFFICE JUST SOUTH OF ROUTE ONE AND EDWARDS AVENUE, BY A LARGE VAN WITH A MIDDLE AGED LARGE MALE DRIVING IT. WHERE ARE YOU POLICE DEPARTMENT.

 

I NEED YOUR MOTHER FUCKING ASSSISTANCE!!!!!

I WILL BE BACK TO TELL YOU ALL WHY THIS SIEGE STRUCK ME. WHY IS AJ ALLOWED TO POST UP MILLIONS OF VIDEOS, MOST THINGS ON THEM STUFF I SAID LONG AGO ON MY FIRST YEARS OF BLOGGING ABOUT MCGUIRE AND HIS WHITE SLAVERY POWER AND ON AND ON, AND YET I GET THE PUMMELING DEATH SIEGE, YYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

 

I will be back later with a huge huge huge fucking rat-tat-football counterattack secret about my wonderful family, and just how some of things all connect from here right through the Alice hole into the year of 2300 so be fucking braced, or get ready to tune tio the next blog, folks, I promise you this.

 

 

Don’t leave me goddess diana, I need you real bad my lightning!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

    5555555555555555555555555555555555

 

     55555555555555555555555555555555

 

END

TRANSMISSION

FOLKS.

 

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0435

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0435

KING NEBNOOSHOO

3:06 PM, 05/21/2012, MONDAY AFTERNOON

TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO

BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:

“FOUR STRAIGHT DAYS OF SIEGE FROM SUB SQUAT OTAMM SCUM”

© 2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY

 

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

 

Fire alarm testing, air siege persecution, you name it, it is there, and this now is day number four. As soon as I left my PHA Building late this morning to go on a few local ass errands, I did not get out the door, and there was a giant UFO. By definition, an Unidentified Flying Object, allows me somewhat of a broad latitude with my verbalization on these blogs while remaining 100 percent court legal in further stating that these words are all total truths, under sworn oath by me, under full penalties of libel and or perjury of any kind. This huge airship looked like nothing I ever saw in my entire life. The MILUITUFORCE has a lot of covert and black-ops crafts, it was no alien, I’ll assure you of that folks, but it is funny, how nobody even looks up and sees this wild and outlandish mother fucking aircraft. Aerial assault has been going on since Friday, ever since the reemerging GUEST NAME UNKNOWN NEIGHBOR DOOR SLAMMER also returned after several days of peaceful quiet around my apartment. This planer and other MILITUFORCE activity dogged me on all of my errands, they followed me all over town, as if I was the uni-bomber or had just called the Julia White House and threatened the president, when all I did was get up out of bed and go out to buy some cereal and ice cream, wow, spurious criminal awful rotten me, huh world. I must be so mother fucking cunt ass important, YO. I come back to fire alarms being tested. The building maintenance butt wipes cannot seem to get the elevators working properly, it has been basically all year now in 2012, a building with one working elevator is a fire hazard in my opinion, going on this long. Then you wait endlessly just to board crowded unpleasant long riding elevators, hoping no roach hoping goes on in the process.

 

 

 

 

 

Wow, maybe the blog I posted earlier got somebody’s fucking goat or their dander up a bit. I decided to GOOGLE up SUTTER’S MILL on the internet when I got back home. Look at the wild connections to the MORIANITY situation. Anyone can read my story, and anyone can Google up Sutter’s Mill, so I will not bore you to death insulting your intelligence. Thank you Jack and Donna for coming over and talking to me at the house. Lightning told me in a trance earlier, that she was in the hallway listening. I told her, next time, just come in. Don’t be a stranger, my lovely baby blond. Hell, you can listen and glisten at the same time Diana, and without singing any great Christmas tunes either, from Winter Wonderlands all the way to Bonanza Canada Crapola. That long used old Mafioso word, and this one too so it seems, good old Spell Checker, if it is not super ass mainstream, it is not on its list, what is it, prejudice against the word growth industry????????

 

 

 

 

 

Yes Pro-Gamblers, my revenge against continuous covert fucking persecution is telling all of you big ass time fucking ways to kick the shit out of the casinos. Always, just before you play, fuck a gorgeous broad, or have a really fantastic meal, preferably do both. This boosting of your personal energy, DOES REALLY HONESTLY effect the connection between your personal agreement ratio with predicting and playing random chance events, be it cards, or numbers, or what have you, BRAHHHHHH.

When I played in 1986 in Atlantic City, these pricks from the fucking future came back into time and used this powerful future technology against me, so that I could never ever make a lot of money and be free and independent, and released from a nightmare situation known by a few in the circle, as the HUNTINGTON CURSE. I am real fucking sick and tired of carrying the weight for a bunch of jerk off ingrate sinners in this generation. Yes, IT IS FINISHED, the dude was in a lot of physical pain, and omitted the end of the sentence, “In the 4^th dimension” for crissake, aha-aha-aha-Mike McNulty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

When I said I would print the numbers that were coming from travelers that knew about the lightning codes from 1983, and leaving voicemail messages using them, all the calls desisted. I thought that they might, but if they come back, I’ll print the ten  digit numbers, just as I promised, for the official record, folks.

 

Still, the four day death siege that began last fucking ass Friday, was a result of my discussing the number 631-656-0834. The closest other number in this area that was being discussed in the chat forum when Googling the “Over The Radar” display that pops up when you get a call from them, was spoken about by screen name person DIGGER. HMMM, maybe as in a sleuth digging around for the facts? Who knows, still what can JJ and I say, BRO? His number was 631-656-0831. Other numbers are also seemingly either a part of this OTR deal, or else, there is an advanced and quite expensive software program available at geek computer places, scattered quietly amongst us all in little out of the way places, that can make a number pop up anything. I can call you and it will say WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, PRES. OBAMA. I guess it is like digitally sampling a sound. I made my neighbors pet dog back in Woodlyn, sing a little Christmas jingle for two little girls, back in the late autumn of 1987. They wanted to marry me and thought I was the coolest dude in the fairway lane. Well, cool I'[m not, but here I am, years later, still chasing after McCoy and TD Bank, right Mister Wolf?

 

 

 

 

The 2.7 degrees measured in the Kelvin Scales of degrees in temperature, is the average universal temperature. If all stars were dead, it would drop slowly and eventually by 2.7 DK, down to zero Kelvin, AKA AZ or Absolute Zero. This 2.7 is a powerful cosmic number. If you take the amount of anything, and divide it by 2.7, strange things will happen when you’re smart or observant enough to play around looking for them. One example such as in roulette again, is the 38 total numbers in this game, so a rounded off division of 30 by 2.7, comes to whole number 14. Grouping random numbers that have a total of 38, in rows of 14, as you go down the columns that will form, if you bet the number directly above you as well as the number that is one away to the left and to the right, you normally will win a nice chunk of change. You always will win if you never bet more than 98 units, it would be 99, but the first bet has only 2 numbers to bet, in other words you are always after 14 spins, betting the numbers that are 13, 14, and 15 numbers behind you, and if the same number is next to each other, go further out until it is a different one, and if you never blow more than a 98 unit bankroll, you will make a lot of units, if you average your games as a ten game running average. But, if you wait for bad shit to happen around you, and then play almost immediately, you will average getting only about 28% of what you would have got if you had not played following a fuck up in your life. Concentrically, if you have some wonderful shit happen, and then play, your average will be 72% above what it would have been if you had just played without the great stuff happening first. This is not an every single time thing, but works out to these huge amounts over ten game running long averages. I only tell these huge secrets that CASINOS DION’T WANT ME TELLING, when I know that they are behind messing with me and hurting me, and fucking with my fucking life. Stop the shit, and I stop the shit too, your fucking move, cock suckers. You are King of the turds Mister Trump, total fucking king, so scowl at me all you want to, you creep, in any dimension!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

WELL FOLKS, TIME TO ENJOY MY L&O TELEVISION SHOWS. I BID YOU A FOND FAREWELL AND ADO, KIND FRIENDS, WHAAAAAA.

 

 

 

 

 

 

END TRANSMISSION, YO.

 

 

 

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0434, KING NEB

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 434

KING NEBNOOSHOO

MAY 21, 2012, 7:11 AM

ALL TITLES APPLY, NO 4TH

 

START BLOG:

 

Life is a bowl of cherries, poison ones. It is a real party, with sour ice cream, poison cake, and on the take judges, never there to make my party time anything but a crying time. It looks, Copyright Office, like the light switch broke all over me, as it is me that feels the darkness in the day, and all my smiles that faded away, and all my tomorrows that are empty skies of gray. All mace cans seem to have a secret nozzle that sprays the wrong way, and all prophets named Mountainpen seem to know in advance how parents will meet their dooms, how incidents happen in hospitals that could never be made up out of the sick twisted minds of Hollywood personnel, and on I could go, with my very messed up mind. No one can fix me I am broken far beyond repair. I suck, and I am a no good rotten worthless pile of crap, at least, I know it, and that is more than a few other folks who may well be in my shoes without knowing it.

 

 

Coming to Florida was a major mistake, but then before that, so was getting involved with the KING FAMILY. Before that, so was ever going to Atlantic city, New Jersey. Before that so was getting myself cunt lapping fucking born in the first place.

 

 

Donna told me some incredible stuff, over at Ricktown Manner, and it started with the great Akoslem City banker, Jack McCoy, peering into the window again, of the library outer area facing the Tiny Ziegler Falls Park on the RM property. The last time Banker McCoy was doing this, I was dreaming it was 2006 if my memory is half way working.

 

 

 

Here is the essence in a compressed nutshell, to many things. She signaled McCoy to come in, and the three of us had a large pot of black raspberry tea and were seated at a large round table with some pastries and tea, and McCoy started the conversation. He told me that I am humanly blocking out many things, and if the Venka Strong girl from March of 1970 at Mrs. Woods’ Art Room at school, was the only thing that I was blocking out, it would be a brand new world for me, his exact words. He went  onto tell me that the human world is made up of time groups for reasons, the main one being based on the leap year that occurs every four years. Presidential elections, the Olympics, and other important large items, follow suit with these four year cycles as well, he said. Then Donna looked over at him while pouring her second cup of tea and enthusiastically enjoying a long pastry item loaded with multiple color sugars thickly spread on one side. She went onto tell me that somebody came over to me at school, and told me to hypnotize the student named John Zane, and actually told me what to say and how to say it, and to take a stick that had a shiny surface, and flash it in front of him and swing it slowly steadily back and forth. This was a major incident in my life, she said, far greater than the fantastic asterisk chemtrail from four months earlier in middle December of 1969, and even greater than the appearance of the Christmas angel who was singing in the Cooley Hall Lobby area. The next large event soon to follow was the Memorial Day School play that Marola insisted I be in, I had gotten that correct so it seems, but had forgotten the importance to Mister Sutter, grandson of the famous Sutter from Sutter’s Mill, a historical event in the United States of America. This dude taught the Wood-shop Class, and there is where I made my strong box that later held the chain and the Book of Beach that were stolen and burned, by Sarah and Russel, just a fortnight before the end of the year of 1969. The powerful direct total solar eclipse on the following March, and my naming my designed large speed boat after the event, was a History Marker, and also a later used word by the great King Family, to control a post hypnotic suggestion over me, the name of this boat, SUNRAM. Sure enough in early 1995, at the clinic of Doctor Mark Wolf, under another hypnotherapy trance induced by the doctor, the first things out of my mouth for no good reason after saying that I was never born, were both SUNRAM, and ATLANTIC CITY. The partner of Doctor Wolf was very frightened of me I later came to find out, and convinced his partner not to want to work on my case any longer, it had nothing to do with smoking, and how that rumor ever got started is as big a mystery to me as why people sit all day burning up under a nuclear reactor called the sun, frying their skin forever. Still, if I could ever break the looping chain of RPL and Ernie Merker, US © Office from 1983, I would be on my way, without needing to take either of my daughters to see a bunch of fish, great ones, shell ones, or what have you.

 

 

Donna told me that when the god Myrathus over at Griffin Pipe in Florence Township, New Jersey, told me he had a friend who was high up in the museum and antique business who was fascinated by unusual items, especially unknown works of any kind of artists, and I handed him a copy of Karen Carpenter doing a totally unknown song with just a guitar accompaniment, he told me he would take it to him and if I could produce the master that was a 33-album that I had since that day when Mike Walter gave me all those overage file records that were going to be tossed into the trash the very next day, that he would talk to me about many other items that he might want to place in his museum, in a musical and artists area of unknown works by great musical artists. I had millions of things, as the studio had planned on literally throwing out a gold mine of treasures. Also, even before I worked there, I had a lot of stuff like this, things just tend to happen to me. About two weeks before this Myrathus dude and myself had a falling out one morning over a total misunderstanding, and after three months of this process of waiting for this man to get back to him, from the west coast someplace; he came in one day and said that ‘Johnny’ had called him, I make a name at random for safety purposes; and said he would be mailing the cassette tape back to him and that his museum had burned down, and it was a set fire, and that he had been told not to deal with whoever owned that Carpenter tape. Myrathus admitted this to me. Another pants not going down to the proper length story, if I need to make this connection myself, only this was up in late 2004 somewhere, the shoes and pants deal was in late 1988. Things never change for poor time warp Charlie, and then it is always me that’s at fault, as if I am perpetrating all of this. Things like this verified beyond all doubt as the nineties closed out, that there is no god, not the way these silly fucking churches worship and believe in this deity anyway, it is the hugest hoax horse shit in the star system.

 

 

One of the female guards, telephoned me a year after I no longer worked up there, and wanted to go out with me, out of the blue. The WOMO enemy did something to the connection on the telephone so that my voice mail did not catch one digit of her phone number, so I decided to take her up on her offer, as she was very attractive and hot, and also seemed to know a little about my problems, and even told me that her daughter Amanda had been indirectly threatened by the FBI if she remained my friend and tried to help me with her New Jersey State Police connections, as she was an employee in some non law enforcement patrol person capacity, she left it vague, but I had it checked out, and it was not some fake story. Anyway, I began dialing the ten possible digits to her number, as one had to be the right one. When I got to the third try, going orderly from 1-9, the digit-2 I believe, a man answered and told me, “No this is not the Harris residence, but you have reached the right number Mister Mohr”. It was the owner of the museum, and he had moved to the area of Griffin Pipe, as he was born and raised there, and knew Myrathus as a boy. He told me that the Lambrigger people want to know how I know Mariah Carey from the past, and will do what they have to extract this information from me, he even right out threatened that they are planning to wipe out your entire life and that it’s all going to be right around the corner unless I tell him right now what they want to know. I paused a solid half minute if my memory is correct, until he said, are you still there, Mr. Mohr? I tried hard to tell him that I had no idea what he was talking about, that I had a few unknown works of musicians and performers, nothing from her however, and before I could get one more word out of my mouth, he laughed so loudly over the phone that I jerked the receiver a few inches out away from my left ear. I remember this clear as a bell today as though it is going down live right now. He finally stopped laughing and said when you stop lying, you’ll be better off pal. I begged him to let me get together and talk directly to him, and told him how Myrathus (Steve Murray) as he knew him as humanly, was not very nice and had accused me of making a phone call to his house and saying something that made him explode in anger the next morning, and that all I was interested in with all of this from the go-bat, was to offer this, at a fair price, to his museum, and that he told me you told him it had burned down. NO, NO, he said, That was not what I told him. He went onto finish the next thing he wanted to say at that point. He said, I told him I cannot deal with him because he is from 2301 and is back here fracturing the walls. I had no idea what this was about, and still can only take a few pot shot guesses, guests and guessing games of Pearl-fields and Harbors, all notwithstanding. He then told me quickly, Do you remember the room, and the interrogation, at all? I thought I would shit in my pajamas when he said that. Did you forget that Mister Jenlow from the North Shore told you that life as you know it, is going to be wiped out, unless you cooperate and tell why did you did so many horrible things as Labber Zeejins. We have machines that can bring you back to the lab anytime we want you. This was the final thing he said and then, just click, he was off the phone and gone. I tried calling him back, and the recording came on from the phone company, that this number is out of service. I’ve heard that there is a software program that can do these parlor tricks, MY problem is that I am surrounded by tricks and tricksters, and then it seems like everyone wants to pump me. OK, it is all up on my blogs. I told what I did, now you figure it out. I just figured with this Johnny character, who would believe the DC love slaves story. Even I find it a stretch of the mind, and I was, or should I say, will be, complicit in this horrific crime. If only there really was a GAMES EXPERT pipe repairman in this dimension. Maybe then, sir 001, I would not have had my major general-breakdown in 1994 and gone onto the Social Security Disability System. In any event, there is no musicians sike ward, just a laboratory nearly 300 years away, so don’t even try and poke around with this. I should not have done a lot of things but I needed to prove things, and I did prove them. To that end, I’m quite freaking satisfied, thank you sir Pat. Keep those nasty hurricanes off your Virginia Beaches there, old pal. If it weren’t for you in 1979, there would be no RPL for me, no Ernie, no time loops, no nothing as Diana shouted at me over the phone, when it was totally disconnected from the outside world, huh Miss Blake from AT&T?

 

 

The end of the experience at the Manor was when I told McCoy not to peak inside my windows any more, that I had returned all of the one trillion towers to the First Akoslem Bank, and that the other 499 trillion was forever stolen by the Briggbase Cult, the one third and the evil third of the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL, or the AWA, Astral World Authority. He laughed hard, and finally so did Donna, and I sat there while they laughed, finally they stopped laughing. Donna took my right hand in hers, and quietly almost whispered to me, the 499 trillion lost caused you to have a very bad dream where you met the Kings and were blogging and you ended up down in Florida, with the clothes on your back. That was a real bad dream because of this loss here, try to stop dreaming about it. I said, right, like I have a choice. Then McCoy looked down at the table and there was a gerbil in his hand that he was picking up and petting it with his other hand. He looked up into my eyes and said, nighty night Marcus Aurelius. One second later I awoke here and it was around six this morning. It seems MC is right, there is no escape from any of this. At least she did not beat me up.

 

“Ain’t life grand”, as David Roth used to say to me so often back in time? If I ask my kid, what’s she gonna’ say, “I don’t know”?

 

 

 

Well world, the hell with everything, screw it all. I have tried and tried, and ended up slaughtered and wrecked.

                                         *************E-N-D—————-B-L-O-G*************