SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 128

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 128
KING NEBNOOSHOO
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
SEND-BACK-TEXT DATFILE:
CH-128-042011.860
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
3RD SUBTITLE TO THIS BLOG:
“GAWKY'S PRIZE PATROL INTERACTION NEARS”

BEGINNING TWANSMISSION, SILWEE WABBIT, WHAAAAA:

Lots of chemtrail siege was all over the place in the Fort Pierce, Florida area all moUUUUUUUUUUUUrning freaking long, giving way to a sky of dissipated poisonous vapor that has had me feeling all fucked up physically for several weeks now, queasy and weak, with flu-like symptoms, but then pals of mine like the great U-Tube “SKYWITNESS”, and many other internet posters, know all about this monstrous horrendous fucking bullshit. When this nightmare began at the tail end of 1987, more than a year after my copyrighting the song “PLANES”, where my lyrics were discussing moonlight being blocked by WOMO, only in 'STM', my full grasp and understanding was along the lines of subliminal and subconscious, to any real meaningful elucidations and details operating in the real bigger picture of reality, that was and is, involved throughout this nightmare ass situation.


Electronic supernatural shit has also been ex termly fucking bad for me for several days now, unexplainable shit with all sorts of electronic machinery. Today however, I was able to prove to people how real it is. Still, rather than face it, human beings refuse to accept what their five senses totally and honestly reveal to them, and would rather fantasize about shit than face the cold hard punching truths that we humans are nothing more than extensions, and that true entities far beyond our silly little dreaming interactions here in this so-called waking world material existence, is what is really behind every mother fucking thing that is going on around us 24-7-365.2422.

Hay pe3epsw, if you think that I like or enjoy any small bit of this fucking diseased sickness around me, YOU'RE FUCKING NUTS, but I am not gonna be a fucking denier because it suits both me and a giant police officer in Williamstown, New Jersey, almost as huge as the Voorhees Police Woman Dispatcher in the nineteen-nineties. Paula King, the lady at the race track on Street Road in Eastern Pennsylvania, and her, are all around seven feet tall or more. Many giant women are also all around me all the time, I have grown totally accustomed to this, and faces as well, so tell the entire 'spell-checker-unrecognized' Clooney family about that perfect storm song, YO!!! The misery that the WOMO put me through on thousands of combined miles on Street Road is way beyond the Prize Patrol of the Pub McGuire Clearing House-In, huh Misses 1969 Marola, give me another toot sometime and don't talk in Latin or say “HI MARK” and just hang up. That is all so stupid and immature, but then this great marvelous wonderful awesome family, what can I expect folks? Jack-35, in many parallel universes, there was a president before him and he was the 36th, but here, let us not fabricate anything just to make it click together better, YO.

Every time I blog, tiny flying 'creatures; come literally out of the nowhere and into the Captain Shatner here, and annoy the fucking hell out of me, and when I am not blogging, they vanish into the leave-him-alone-zone. It is as totally fucking dependable and predictable as the greatest Swiss ass time piece ever built, and I will most gladly put it to the test with anyone at any time, and in any mother fucking place, Disc-Jockey, or not, DONNA SUMMER, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, what are the fucking odds David Charles ass Roth?????????

People today witnessed that some invisible force indeed fucks with me on machines such as glorified adding machines better and or also AKA known sir PRINCE, as PC's, whether they can sing the high notes or not Odd-Couple Twilight Zone Oscar not Felix. Well in any event Lads and Lassies and yes my wonderful Labradors, I will post up my own version of Scylla's great song. It should be called, “Love is for Carpenters 2” in pursuit of 1980's original power house 2nd interaction with this great All Mighty Goddess, but it instead will be called, as it is called in millions of parallel universes, “WANNA SPEND MY TIME”, and this will be up tomorrow afternoon. NICK KNOWS that I'm typing this, as instantly, a powerful bunch of his thug pals hurled out mega watts of thundering crap all around me ol' house me maitees, YARR!!!!!!! For a dude who doesn't like anyone and I mean anyone touching or playing with any of his personal stuff, wow; turn the tables a little, and look at old bent out of shape you, like DUH, Hyundai cars and high school musical movies, BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 'Color me so impressed' Mister Detective Lenny Briscoe Beethoven.

In the year of 1997, I resided in a home in Somerdale, new jersey, United States of America, Earth, Sol, Milky Way Galaxy, in this exact universe and its matching atomic vibrations in hyperspace, minding my own damn business, and fell into a very unsettled and troubled sleep, when POW, suddenly the PRIZE PATROL was outside my house, only they forgot to bring any heating oil or Unical Bush pals, or a gorgeous coed named K.J. McAllister along with them, but they did manage to bring the Charmed Sandman along for the ride, and he threw sand in my eyes, and then all hell broke loose with this lovely song being sung to me, naturally, and like an ass hole, I could not put '2 and 2' together with the copyrighted project I did 10 years later in OH-MAROLA-7. All of this story has been blogged and it all officially fucking exists for the entire mother fucking world to see at the bloggers original website that is GOOGLE owned and operated, so just merely type in: www.blogger.com/. None of this tale is fictional or delusional, and it CANNOT BE RATIONALLY EXPLAINED AWAY, not by (231) million fucking psychiatrists from the (PP) of the (PC), oh and did that light up any screens in the NSA or any other BFA, but let us touch on these genius mind-realm experts here for a few minutes, if I may be “UNCLE” Heinz Gottwald-175-permitted to do so, YO? 'Head Shrinks' date back to the so-called father of modern day shrinkology, Doctor Freud. I said the keyword here folks, MODERN DAY. Did you know however, that just as outdoor and indoor aqueduct plumbing, medical operations, high and complex mathematical computations such as advanced algebraic and trig mechanics, and much more; is thousands of freaking years old, so also is the examining of the mind-realm by the shrinkology docs, YO. This is a true historical fact. In the days of the freaking Roman Empire, modern day 'experts' of these times invented the word psyche and soul where our modern words all come from today, and did you further know that it was considered insane and mental illness, to have the desire to be a FREE person, if you happened to be a SLAVE? So really peeps, you tell me who is using these disinformation techniques such as psychiatry and mental illness study, to keep us all in line, OR ELSE. Make us think we are crazy when we are totally not. We are not imagining m,other fucking squat. This is not to say there is no real mental illness, as just like physical illness, of course these things exist and are totally real. But anyone can label a person as mentally ill now when they merely insist that some plot exists to wipe out their life, and it is 100% total mother fucking true and accurate, so is this not a license for the rich and powerful and unscrupulous Wall Street cheaters and 'bail-outers' at our fucking expense, to do whatever the hell they want to any one of us and at any time, and get totally fucking Scott free away with it, you fucking tell me peeps, YO???????

This was another very fucking bad day folks, I may do anything tomorrow, it will be their next move. This song is Scylla's property, only not here. Here, it is the energetic reaction of my falling asleep in 1997 one night, and being visited by the Prize Patrol, McAllister, Richard Karpf, and last but certainly not at all least, two powerful letters in the mailbox, right Gawky? Parents! All I know is that 1969, 1980, 1994, and 2011 have a mathematical sequence that any first year grad student majoring in any math discipline can see in short order. These are years where two things always happened, only not yet in this one, I am patiently awaiting and who know what tomorrow might bring? Keep fucking pissing me off world, and JOURNBAL-TAPE #-1786. keep cutting my fingers freezer boy, and keep these American Appliances and American Express things going strong. Maggie the healer can also hurt, and the eyes of slant know just how much, but why does it strike over there so much? Well, whoever is truly behind all of my miseries and shit, has not as of yet actually begun doing it. I learned this when I look back at my questionable hollering on an open reel master tape in August of 1986. Now by the quoting of the recently made television commercial, who really owns this nation, as they have basically bought all of its debt? The answer is China, Japan, and many areas where lots of recent-current-millennium shaking and quaking is going on. Maggie is not time sensitive, any more than lots of computer things are not case-letter sensitive, passwords of course excluded.

Yes foes and friends, Morians and Lessians and Inbetweenians, it all makes perfect logical sense, but not if you are not looking for truth. I was not for a long time, and I too was fucking totally blind. I am the one who wrote the song, 'REAL GOOD GIRL', so screw the wrestling world. What I mean is that if I can let the hugest event in human history happen and slip by me totally jun noticed, you must see that I have merit when I say that most people are passing by life without even looking. I thought I was pretty damn intuitive, and look what I missed, come on,. Is this powerful on a James fucking Patterson level or not, give an honest opinion, don't freaking count me out like a moron, when you all know deep down that something is major ass going on in my life and I at least have the fucking balls to get online and blog it out to the fucking public world, forever ruining any chance of a future or a career, you think I am retarded or something and don;t fucking know all this shit, YO?

I have, as you all do five senses. No one has a sixth sense. You either hone in and super tune your five gods-given senses, or you choose to ignore shit, or fall into virtually unlimited categories that lay somewhere in-between these two realities. This world is in some big ass trouble in the coming days and that Kimba Whitelion, 'you can be 1969 sure', BRO. ------------------------------
THIS TRANSMISSION IS NOW TERMINATING, & who knows what else may be?