safe journal, chapter 0050

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
SAFE JOURNAL, BOOK-CHAPTER 0050
WORLD LABS OF 2295—SBT—DATE AND TIME FILE:
122310.570.5555555555555555555555
BLOG SUBTITLE “RATHER B ME IN HELL THAN ANY OF U”

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

This was the worst mother fucking clit sniffing toilet water lapping day of my entire mother fucking life, it is super fucking BOTBAR multiplied by quintillions of mother fucking powers, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I will gladly stay off of the mother fucking internet and stop blogging, when left even somewhat fucking alone by these diseased dirt bag enemies, but when they strike hard as shit such as they did today, without fucking mercy, conscience, shame, or one ounce of fucking humanity, then things will go into the GUNS FUCKING BLAZING MODE, as far as I am concerned and I am taking not one mother fucking prisoner, BRO!!!!!!! After all they did 2 me as though this is by no means mother fucking enough, I get here 2 the fucking library where they were all ready waiting 4 me since I left a message over my totally fucking bugged telephone that I would b here, and was greeted at the front door by a CRASH LEVEL LOUD ASS FUCKING PRIVATE PLANE, and may the gods B with U dirt balls when U crash later on fucking today when Maggie gets U, U sick cunt lapping filth shits. Also right at the door, a Fort Pierce, Florida police cruiser was sitting right there as well, who knows, maybe protecting me from even more danger from these jerk off diseased scum, and maybe not. They could just B here coincidentally, or even in league with the aerial shit, copper birds R nothing fucking new peeps, U all know that from viewing shows on TV such as L&O and COPS.

B4I tell what happened from even B4 my alarm awoke me 2 begin this totally wicked horrendous mother fucking day, and it fell out of my hands and broke, I will touch on some other shit. Let me start working backwards a little, with last night around bed time itself. The scum bag strobe-lighter-weaponry-club of UFOVILLE, better known by me from this day forward as the blue-white-book 4 many reasons that will all B told on this very fucking blog right here and now, today; hit me and got me sick as fucking hell, my throat feels as though some ass hole is trying 2 shove Donald Trump’s head-rug right down my throat in whole. YUK. When these bastard ass mother fuckers want U2B sick, U get fucking sick. I never get sick by my own natural process, as my mind is able 2 focus an infinite beam of pure energy right around the frequency level or vibration that the majority of tweeter horns R pitched 2 play at, and at this frequency, there is nothing that lives in the virus and germ world that is able 2 normally penetrate my shell. These same similar Sonics have been used continually 4 quite a long time now, and R directed all around important people, so that they as well escape the flu and the common cold, and this has been touched on slightly on some previous blogging texts. YO!!!!!!!! I have learned 2 do this naturally, but that does not protect me from broken hands, and this will B talked about in a few minutes. 4 right now, they made me sick as hell, they caused me 2 drop my clock this morning as I was shutting my alarm off, this never happened 2 me B4 in my entire mother fucking life. Then the party really got started after driving 2 my work place, and going on the job. Remember, and this is on blogs that R from 3 and 4 and even 5 years old now, here at the blogger website of www.blogger.com/, CHRISTMAS 4 whatever the true and real reason, 4 me, IS A TIME WHEN I CAN B EXPECTED 2B PUMMELED AND ASSAULTED AND BANGED UP BY THIS SCUM AROUND ME EVERY MOTHER FUCKING SINGLE YEAR. This year in Oh-Marola-Ten is nothing new, it can occur on Christmas Day itself or B a day or 2 B4 or after, but it strikes like fucking ass lightning and is as dependable as a precision fucking Swiss ass time piece, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The only thing I can possibly think is going on is that just as per the special secret charts that the late and great David Charles Roth showed 2 me in the early nineteen-nineties, that he managed somehow 2 sneak out of the Mason Lodge where he was a high degreed member, and I feel 2 this day was behind his covert demise and strange death at the ripe old age of 49 years, I am the direct descendant of my 7th grandfather on my maternal family lineage, MISTER SAMUEL HUNTINGTON, signer of the Declaration of Independence, and 4-time office holder of Governor of the state of Connecticut, yes I guess I am white enough Jack McCoy!!!!!!! The question really that is more apropos here is “Am I Julie enough?” Also, question 2 can always B answered by the United States Copyright Office, and that is, “R the answers 2B found in a 1994 book called, ‘THE PERMISSION BARRIER’?” Now MISTER Huntington was a direct descendant of the Queen of Scotland, the great and wonderful MARY. She was a direct descendant of the entire Judah Tribe of Israel, along with the mighty and fantastic King David, and this is an authenticated secret chart known only by the MASONS, and IMHO, is what led 2 the following books and shit by the infamous Dan Brown, YO!!!!!!!!!! All of this is on blogs also, from 2 and 3 and 4 and even 5 fucking years back on the above listed freaking website, BRAHHHH!!!!!!! So this is Christmas, huh, Sarah and John, what R the kids so happy and clappy about on the song, I sure would love 2 freaking ass know, YO. Y this stupid ass area never plays my 4th or 5th or whatever grand pappy’s great song, “Silent Night”, I have not the foggiest notion. This entire area is sure not like up north, they used 2 air the living shit out of that up there during the Christmas season. Joseph Mohr would B turning over in his grave down here in Fountainofyouthville, also known as Florida!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, maybe this is indeed YI am massacred each Christmas season, as I seem 2B the fucking carrier in this present generation, of my family’s horrific curse that I have taken upon myself 2 name, the “HUNTINGTON CURSE”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Both Doreen and Billy let me totally down this autumn, another disappointment, nut again, nothing really is ever one bit new 4 me, it always boils down 2 and goes back 2 the trustworthy and time tested HUNTINGTON CURSE. Still, how the blogs seemed 2 get back 2 normal is anyone’s guess, as those that may B wondering know quite well, that the ROCKING ROBIN TWEETS of the MOUNTAINPEN, have stopped, and normally blogging has resumed, I just have been keeping my big mother fucking ass hole mouth shut all of this time, as the less I fucking say sometimes definitely translates 4 me anyway into the famous quotation of the better part of fucking valor.

One particular “LAW AND ORDER” episode whose title name escapes me presently, says and quotes my fucking monstrous problem far better than I ever could, U did my job and homework 4 me Dick Wolf my old pal, and yes sir, I endlessly will thank U, kind sir. This is the episode with the baseball player that really mirror imaged and twinned the reality story of my local Phillies team, Mitch Williams, and don’t get excited there MI cousin Sandy; and in the show, his character name was Brendan Donner. When the dude that murdered him in a bar by bashing his brains in with a fucking liquor bottle, was on trial and on the freaking witness stand, he said the coolest shit 2 Jack McCoy who was prosecuting him. McCoy after hearing him rant on as I accused of doing by the ‘UM-CLUB’ peeps and many so many others, and saying all sorts of stuff about police planting evidence against him and how one officer or ‘eat-cop’ at the time, Kenny Daniels, always hated him and wanted 2 do him in like the sheriff of poor old Eric Clapton’s early 1970’s county, McCoy turned 2 him and said this and I quote, “U sound awful paranoid”. Then the murderer replied back 2 JJMC, “It isn’t paranoia is somebody really is out 2 get U”. The first time I heard this show re-air and run on the TNT network a number of years back from my Mullica, New Jersey residence at Jenny Plageman’s Trailer Park on the WHITE Horse Pike or ROUTE 30, Julia King, I wanted 2 reach right through the fucking television screen, grab that ugly old murderer and give him a huge bear hug!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh well, glad I didn’t, I would B wearing a liquor bottle on my head where THE TRUMP wears his rug!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, “The Trump is in the Tower”, talk about psychic interactions and blasts from the cock sucking ass past, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But then I seem 2 have such terrible fucking bad luck with names of peeps and things that begin with those 2 magical letters of “TR”, am I correct lads and freaking lassies? I mean, really, and then there is TRINIDAD. Not only the nineteen sixties and the Atlantic City Hotel Trinidad, but then right now and yet, years later in the end of the first decade up here in the great 21st century, down here in sunny scummy Florida, YO. Now I am working with a man from, I said “”””***FROM***”” Trinidad, just 9 miles off of the coast of good old lovely South American Venezuela, where THAT FAMILY has branches, there as well as in many other locations all up and down. The man I called Sam, really Sat, short 4 a longer name beginning with the letters that Saturday begins with, and this day of course is the 1 out of the possible 7 that I picked and chose 2 get myself freaking born in, back on the 4th of December in 1954, 3 Saturdays B4 Christmas, and yes 2010 and 1954 have the precise day falling calendar system all year long. I am gonna say something huge right now 2 all readers. Take your full 10 digit telephone number and your full 9 digit social security number, add up the digits and transfer it into an up-number only one digit long by adding it until it is a mere single digit of between a 1 and a 9. By the way I fucked up on blog SJ-CH-0049, it was not 340, but was 30 seconds that those 2 horrendous peeps were behind me at the bank there in Absecon, New Jersey, not a very pleasant day 4 me or U, huh Kate Willis Rippoff, while I waited in line 2 use the fucking ATM machine, and that giant slut yanked the door apart in one mighty fell swoop, while I was there 2 withdraw my cash fee 2 my lawyer 4 my Chapter 13 Bankruptcy Adjudication. Somebody declaring a bankruptcy of more than 330 thousand bucks is not gonna B trusted by any rational attorney 2 write him or the court system, a check. Good old twisty Route 9, right through Pleasantville and Absecon, oh yeah right, huh Bobby Witherspoon and Ann Reese from the early nineteen-sixties and the Richland Elementary School of Quakertown-Carlisle, Pennsylvania, United States of America, Earth, Sol, milky Way Galaxy, (PAUSAESMWG)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If these Callio and McGuire and King scum buckets did not have me 2 dig around in my mother fucking past, what would they possibly ever do 2 sustain their life and sanity, YO??????????????????????? Hay Oprah baby, in case MI never comes clean and tells, not all of her trouble makers were from Suffolk County, New York as a child, U would really think she would appreciate being able 2 come 2 know these freaking facts in her later and mature life.

As 4 today, this is the number of Apollo-Lucifer as far as I’m fucking concerned, the 23rd of every month is normally very nasty and fucking hellish 4 poor ol’ whittle ass me, YO!!!!!!!!!! Like DUH. WHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!! December 23rd is normally extremely bad, and this day did not let me down one fucking tiny bitch eating bit, YO. As 4 the CHRISTMAS CURSE 4 anyone suffering under the HUNTINGTON HELL, as I fucking do, YO, remember that Paula King murdered my mother in her ‘sleep’ just hours after Christmas ended in the year of 1997, early on Quanza Morning, my fatal heart attack at work at the Cifaloglio site nearly a decade later was at the very same time. Then a couple of years after that, I was murdered again in an automobile crash that was head on and totally fatal. There is nothing fucking funny about any of this shit, but another Daniels recently has taught me it is not always such a bad idea 2 at least attempt 2 find some humor in the worst of things, and thereby, I have come 2 call this so-called car crash-accident, “My Incollingo Chocolate Cup-Cakes Crash”. This story in full is all up on the website on blogs from around that particular Christmas time, YO, Sarah and John, yeah this mystery indeed does keep right on building, U must B a real genius Sarah, U have a name of a goddess anyway. As 4 my coworker Trinidad, he started this “I STINK” problem at work. He is still fucking with me, getting in with customers and telling them afterwards 2 complain about me up at the cash register when they check out. I have come 2 learn that he has a fucking daughter who married a wealthy Jewish man in the medical profession, and from YES U ALL GUESSED IT, mister Cifaloglio, Suffolk County, New York, sheeeeeeeeeeeiiiit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Part of the problem that I face in this HUNTINHTON CURSE, is that I have a weird unexplainable faint memory of the entire repeating part of infinity that is the present lifetime or DREAM-DOWN off of the Astral-Plane, from 2 characters and entities there, one being Rictafarious, and the other being Zeranniss. Only after most things happen does it twin out on me in my mind but in numerous incidents, ‘I all ready know’, just ask Lenny McKinnon if anyone can ever find this Hoffa doppelganger. U also can ask any Copyright Office examiners that may have been working back in 1983 who examined my music. Y do I have this looped memory? No one really can know this IMHO. This belongs 2 the eighth dimension if anything does. Sandy and her faulty memory, she was more accurate than me about 1967, it was not 1968, she was right, what is with the faulty memory, yours is a lot better than mine COUSIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Maybe my hair is just 2 long and I have some crazy ways daughter, so Y not stop and pick up a burger and fries, and maybe get a little counseling. Hay if it’s free, U can’t beat that price, YO. Still, it is 3 dimensions lower Jimmie Wonderer, or is it Donna non-DJ-Wanderer???????????????? Wow, the clues R on a James Bond level now, YO. Or is Jimmie Longling stuck in an endless I-Ching trance with Rocky and some of his peeps????????????????? In any freaking event lads and lassies and Labradors, I was saying BIG-ASS-BUT on blogs way back B4 2009, or 2008 or even 2007, so live with that one, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hypnosis may not B the greatest answer, but I say ‘GOD BLESS IT, TIM’ Letterman, cuzz remv-1. So move over U nut case Bonan Ocryin.

Interactions R beyond bloggable peeps, sorry, even I know shit that is not bloggable in safety. The one I will tell about is after Scylla was finished singing 2 me 4 what seemed years, I fell asleep around a week ago at midnight, and 5 AM seemed literally years away, and when SHE finished her long personal concert 2 me, SHE went over 2 where my parked white truck was, and painted it bright blue. It made no sense until yesterday, while watching the L&O episode on TV, called, “Harvest”. U can Google up the site of www.harvestfoodoutreach.com/ but this harvest is a mere ‘coincidence’, or is it Jack McCoy????????????????? Get the episode, study it all, and in light of other shows, as well as white trucks painted blue by the All Mighty SSJK. The episode originally aired in 1997, the very same year thart I met the Atlantic City branches of THAT-FAMILY of closed BLUEBOOKS of the US AIRFORCE, YO, all white’ed out and redacted, as far as truths taught in the great MORIANITY, its bible and its following foundation, yes I know what HER name is and so does the Library of Congress of 1997, even though they sent me my tape back, huh, Melanie Safka??????????????????

No I never do anything bad or wrong 2 anybody. I am nice, and I do what I should and what is expected of me, without shirking or complaining. But all I ever mother fucking get in return is bull shit and hell. So my life and existence is LIVING FUCKING PROOF THAT THE BIBLE AND CHRISTIUANITY IS NOTHING BUT A FILTHY DIRTY ASS LIE, I would not dare 2 print a fucking lie like that, now would I, I tell the fucking truth here peeps, it is really just that simple, whether John Henningsen likes it or not, or me either. But then there is John and Fred and the Mentors Club of Philadelphia. Huge secrets will B forthcoming with both these 2 dudes, as well as the dude in charge at the time, a MISTER HANS WIRSHING!!!!!!!!!!! Nobody is really who they appear. What did U say last night Mister McCoy, yes it is always 10 PM someplace, SIR!!!!!!!!!!!! Wow, is this the freaking truth. Well, in MI case, we can add about a half hour 2 the time. As 4 all of my friends on Rikers Island in hyperspace, where I was not so lucky; I will CU on the AP. No, we all ready R there and dreaming into all this huge 5th dimensional shit, wow is this great or fucking what peeps???????

Then there is rhythm creation as well as rhythm interruption. Creation is when U walk down a quiet field or beach all by yourself and silently cye and say, “shit man it’s hot today”. U think that this has no effect on cosmos. It is not like going into a crowded tough biker bar and shouting that all bikers R a bunch of fem-pussy ass holes who fuck their mothers. Yet all though one of these 2 things will definitely have immediate and major repercussions and the other will not, as Paul Intricate Pedersen of the great STUDIO PARK RECORDS, would put it so freaking eloquently; this small act could literally cause an avalanche 2 suddenly occur somewhere far across the globe on top of the Himalayan Mountain Chain. All things connect, even in the vacuum of the expansion of outer-space; as nothing exists independently of the entire whole, NOTHING. Quantum Particle Physicists totally know this as the truth, they have proven shit they dare not ever even publish 2 any public 4 fear of total sociological collapse. There is a story larger than the surface of the planet Jupiter about rhythm creations, and yes, I can show how they R so totally ass pertinent 2 my story and my hell, and yes, 2 the freaking Huntington-Curse. But now let me speak a second about the twin of all of this, and this being rhythm interruption. This has been touched on lightly here and there on many of my past blogs, but let me now reiterate, elaborate, and expand a little bit, B4 getting into the hell of fucking today, as it does all fit, and it does all matter, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There is a program in cosmos with a menu the size of near infinity. Inside of this, in a personal way, and with humans or people, is a smaller system operating such as this, and it is not some MATRIX deal. Nobody ever just made this up, or thought it up; it simply IS WHAT IT IS, just as the great ‘Dawn-Marie King’ would put this so perfectly, YO, as I do in fact give credit where credit is freaking due!!!!!!!!!! When I would drive past girls and not pick them up many years ago, back when hitch hiking was maybe not legal but done so often that police rarely enforced laws pertaining 2 it, I noticed that huge time bad shit would happen 2 me as a result, and 2 the point that there was no way that any sane mind could eventually come 2 believe that this was not real and in fact happening and the seemingly 2 totally unrelated events were somehow directly not connected. This is where I need 2 quickly break in here, and interject my own self. When U get that single digit up number from your full SS-# and phone #, multiply it by 94 and write out the full number. This is digit one on a PCN. 4 arriving at digit 2, U then multiply the up-number by the number 5. Again, write it out. This fully written number is digit two on a PCN, and U all should know that digit 3 is a simple result of taking digits one and two and doing something, if U forgot, Google up the GAWNUM. Things that match this PCN, have a lot 2 do with your identity, am I right everybody, YO???? Gawky showed me this the same night that Scylla repainted my white pickup truck. Here in waking life, I do not own nor ever owned a white pickup truck. Now, when U, or me, or anyone, interrupts this life current and does it intentionally with an “I am not playing your game” attitude on a conscious waking level, this will heighten any curse, HUNTINGTON, or whatever, YO!!!!!!!!! Still, tile-tapping and numerous other shit needs B addressed, and will B later on another day, and this all fits together and was figured out by me and only me, when I was in high school in Westmont, New Jersey. U can literally mess up a built in life program and the energetic pattern that they run on and not at all known about in this present time era, and when this happens, all fucking hell does indeed break loose. As 4 the rhythm creations, this does intertwine and interact with interruptions, if one is not all that careful, or just in many instances down right filled with rotten luck. All of this bull shit and much other shit from the last blog, and still so much more, has merely been touched on. It all will B more thoroughly discussed later on, but 4 right now, big ass BUT, and not hacked, and not audio inserted with MI and her friends, I now must tell what happened at work.

Trinidad is the instigator, or Mister Sat. Still, B4 this happened, my coworker and friend, Sandra, was talking 2 me as we both were straightening out some stuff on an aisle that was in need of rearrangement, and she got on the topic of John Kennedy, the conspiracies, the family, and so on, and if U remember, there is a distant part of this family, that also is THAT FAMILY, and this is so dangerous that it just cannot B talked about, it is fucking totally unbloggable, YO, sahwee. 10 or 15 fucking minutes later however, one of the female bosses took me aside and told me I need 2 take some jersey that she handed me and change in the restroom, as complaints R coming in that I stink. Believe me, if I really did stink, Sandra would tell me, she already knows the problem I have had in the past with this monster ass jerk off Sat. She up set me and I punched the wall of the restroom and my hand is injured. How badly it is damaged, I do not know, I still can blog thank the fucking sick and diseased ass gods. I came out and clocked out and went home and called my social worker April Lee. All I can do is post up now and return home and C what the result is. I have had all I can take. I plan 2 leave Florida; and there will B no song up on the U-Tube, FUCK ALL OF U. Much more has been done 2 me than I have ever done 2 any of ‘them’, world. I have nothing 2 fucking apologize 4, I plan 2 throw the stupid fucking CD in the trash, where it fucking belongs, and get the fuck on with my miserable fucking life. Say HI 2 the fucking Queen of England Billy, and if UR reading this, U and DEEDEE turned out 2B just more phonies, in my book, so BYE-BYE, YO!!!!!!

I will survive, and get out of Florida. Coming fucking here was a serious mistake, and one that can B rectified by my getting the mother fucking hell adddddahere, MISTER HARRY CALLAS!!!!!!!

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