SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 130

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 130
TEOHIV/TMCAM
042311.085
START:

This is a safe journal. 'That Family' meticulously planned the obliteration of the other life journal that I'd been keeping faithfully on cassette tape ever since the start of the second month in the year of 1983. I do not hate this entire family, just those responsible for taking away all of my worldly goods and trying to covertly kill me back in the final days and years of the first decade of this horrendous 21st freaking century. These blogs however are not always going to be about nothing other than this incredible family, there are other topics that need to be addressed major ass big time folks, and also, just for me and my personal records, hopefully kept safer now on the internet from being again totally freaking wiped out and destroyed by those with powerful vested interests in doing so. A child can see all of this, only it is only the very young who have not yet been programmed by the adult-world, who do see, am I right old pal, Kenny, if you are ever out here? You told me some shit that I always dared to imagine and never share with the adults in my world, I always knew it, just as most likely now, so does the great ass hole disc jockey fire fighter of New Jersey. Did I mistake anyone's freaking identity here by the way, if necessary, I'll apologize, my life seems to be all about apologizing to one recording artist after another, some miraculous set of coincidences for me to believe peeps, YO.

Thank you Bob MCD for helping me get some of the electronic shit minimized, as anything you can do to keep looking over my shoulder, and having Agent Steve Caruso form Austin, also looking over my shoulder; is very much appreciated. I was tempted to go out on a rented boat until I ran out of gas, and sit in the triangle until 'THEY' made contact, or I just died out there and ended up again sending 'mucho' flowers to Callio and the A&R heart attack team. Shit really all fits together, and even at twenty past two, when I am up on my word document blogging, Nick knows, and sees every stroke on his 36th Avenue computer, as the gang again suddenly appeared outside myself blasting their ghetto trash at me, and is I ever dared to complain, I'd be making a knife-dream in Florida come true Aunt Ruth Shark Huntington Gloucester Gottwald. It all fits together, right down to the dog walking day up on that horrible ass island. Hell, I thought it was only a dream back in September of ohm-eight, but I did wander off before talking to the blond bombshell, and a young child beckoned to me to follow her inside, and that is when she led me to a very scary and bright closet, where I witnessed things so unbloggable that safe journal or not, it can't all be spoken. The world knows what is being talked about, and why only a carefully limited conversation is possible. Dave Roth, Arthur Crane, my mother, and myself, all witnessed, and were at various occasions, the victims of this gadget in this closet that MI was trying to show me, obviously for my own protection up here in the future. I do not believe you do not remember it, not for one second TQ. The gang outside is quite unhappy Nikki Cox Sarjenka, that I've blogged even this much, boom, bang,thump, and they call this shit music, unfathomable, YO. You know Prick Nick, you are merely verifying to me that you have every strike of this machine mirror imaged on your system out there on stinking 36th. I type the wrong thing, boom-boom-boom, like total precision Swiss ass clockwork, BRO. IF ANY FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA COPS OR SAINT LUCIE COUNTY SHERIFF'S ARE NOT TOO BUSY EATING A DONUGT RIGHT NOW, why not drive by my place here at the 26th and Avenue E ghetto, YO. I really hate your fucking guts Lenny McKinnon, I hated you in 1980, and I have only grown to hate you ten times more after 31 years of your torture, BRAHHH!!!!!! Howard comes waltzing into the mother fucking recording studio late in 1980 around my birthday or just after and said to me, “Bad news Mark, Lenny ran away”. BAD NEWS??? Sheeeeeeit Howard, it was the best news in the world until 65 months passed and he began plotting turn my entire life into a giant cesspool times the speed of light quanta cubed. It wasn't meant for me to last, not after the mists got here in 1969 and I lost a very special motor cycle chain given to me by John Henningsen, the big brother from the BBO system, that followed directly after Mister Frederick Hinger left the area after securing a position with the Met in Manhattan and leaving the freaking Philharmonic, but then Shirley girl, Hammonton is just the land of so many bicycle Melanie Safka Queens coincidences, right Mister Jack McCoy and Abigail Carmichael? I have done some wild and some bad shitty things that Carmichael would have locked me away forever if she had her way and was around when I was young, and L&O the television show was real instead of fictional entertainment, but one thing I never did, was hit a five year old child. That was the lowest rottenest thing that I ever witnessed from the ground in my life, forget the damn ass aerial chemtrails.

Yes, I was getting ready to go deep into trance and take my lovely baby blond to one of her favorite parks and waterfalls on the Astral Plane, when she just blurted out on the phone to me that I should check the PCN of the words “Prize Patrol”, this is the absolute ass truth, so help me Sarah-Stacey Krassle!!!!!!!!!!!! Nick didn't like that one either, boom-boom-boom, where are the police in this freaking ass town anyway, what a lousy ass ghetto I got stuck living in thanks to that rotten fucking social worker, MISS April Lee-Farms! Let me touch any of your shit you prick and you'd have your thug pals on me in minutes, but it's fucking OK for you to interfere with my computer and my blogging, you rotten evil son of a bitch, huh, YO? I'll tell the average folks that live paycheck to paycheck, if you feel like getting so angry that you may want to be as nasty as human-Gawky with his small child in 1975, rent a movie at the Redbox or the Blockbuster called, “Inside Job”. You will be pissed off squared, and you will say, wow, we thought 'Mountainpen' was a fucking nutcase. Hay, you still might, but rent the fucking ass movie, YO. You will be quite glad that you did.

Now instead of using way out words, I'll speak every day language, calling dreams dreams, and not using terms that do not exist yet. I'll tell this simply and easily so enjoy the story, you will be happy you tuned into this tonight, I know all of you want to know the truth, you just doubt that I happen to be the one who really freaking knows it, and that is all fine and well, healthy skepticism is fine, but listen up and think hard, and do not so readily dismiss what UI now tell you peeps. There is something happening and this is why you have a brain and are alive right now. Your brain tunes into stuff around you and thinks, reacts to stimulus, and does numerous other things. This something else is not just you here, but you all over many other places in realms beyond your wildest imaginations. Your brain is sort of like one individual computer. The entire system is the internet. Still, you are probably saying so what, how does that really explain the endlessly sought after human questions of the many Y's? Well, keeping it short, sweet, and simple, let me add a little more to the story. With the computer example, the computers existed first, and tying them all together came later on, in human world history. Everything in this waking world is reversed. So in truth here, this cosmic internet is always just there, and then it sends its countless and virtually unlimited websites and computers, out into the material worlds, from its cyberspace of mystical magical lands of binary coded realities. Using this reversed truth, while keeping the computer and the internet example present in the mix for purposes of illustration only, we now can also take things to the following level that's necessary for me making a powerful point with the human race tonight, and especially in lieu of my story over just the past (36-months), such a wild number now, in my nightmare ass life. Cyberspace is the 'dream-world', where all the computers can link up into as they so choose to do throughout the life of them and or 'their owners'. I just want you to see three things right now; computers and the net, then seeing the truth of that in reverse, and then finally, seeing cyberspace as the spirit world, and, in truth, many peeps do think and perceive of this nearly magical so-called territory, as almost a type of electronic-spirit-world. So the example fits and works, and I just want my readers to ponder a while on this and not just dismiss it. Cogitate on it for 5 or 10 freaking minutes, and then if you still wanna dismiss it, go the hell ahead.

Any good software engineer can take his or her knowledge, add this idea, read my blogs, take the story of my incredible and seemingly unbelievable life, and begin to see the only possible reality to all of it, and that is that SARAH-STACEY is a 16 year old GODDESS, and is playing a fantastic game, just as I have claimed all along, and Morianity has attempted to teach. On top of this, if no truth is present in all of this, then why get so bent out of shape with me, the Um Comment-Clubber's, the Boom-Boom-Thump-Thugs, the chemtrail invention at Honda in 1987, and the list is longer than Lex Luther's arm, Otis. If I do not scare the most powerful controllers and forces on this entire planet, they would ignore me and leave me alone, and then I'd go away. Things would be all 'peachy cream boss', with old Herman Munster sitting there with his fudge Sundae's, and his racing forms, speaking of thugs. The billionaires and the top religious powers on this planet know that something is up huge time with all of this, and they are scared from here to the home of the Boston Strangler. Why would I make up such a tale and blog it out for six years? It would be the epitome of insanity, and anyone doing it would not be rational enough to live in society, function, work, pay bills, and be able to subsist on his own. Anyone with a mind knows this, not just Lonnie Jackson. But the real genius minds of the PC also know that what can be done with the technology today is frightening beyond any way of describing it. Anyone using bombs and yesterday's terror any longer belongs in the stone age. Ross the Super Boss knows that tomorrow's terror, comes from these wonderful machines and the peeps behind them that really know stuff, as in truth, the peeps behind those peeps, and who are using this incredible new mind realm, have a plan indeed, and this plan is so diabolical that I won't even try and address it, not now or later on. I should be able to leave some shit up to my readers' own imaginations.

Now what I knew in 1980 about all of this, is a STM equation. Still, picture a chess game, only there are a thousand squares or a million, and hundreds of pieces. Not 50 fucking Albert Einstein geniuses could ever figure out 2, or 5, or 12 moves ahead on something like this. Yet we all play our hyperspace games, all of us. “Oh if only I hadn't done this, and if only I had spoken up and told someone that”, etcetera. It is a non-ending practice, and all humans are guilty of using it quite a lot more than even the most life-satisfied peeps amongst the crowds would even be willing to ever admit to themselves, let alone to anyone else. Think about another powerful thing. Can any of you look me square in the fucking eye and tell me what you really want? You can only tell me what you think you really want. Shit changes when we get what we thought we really wanted. This is not me talking, this can be mathematically backed up in formulas of complex quantum physics theories. Peeps in labs are so shocked to learn that doing something to an atom in the room effects an atom clear across the galaxy. Why wouldn't it you dummy? You are existing in void infinity and have dreamed out and away from that, in a super ultra complex maze of beyond literary descriptions, into who and what you may THINK that you are right now in this tangible here and now existence. Long story made super short, all of everything is inside the core of your being, the entire 64 trillion light year hypersphere around us all is only what we are projecting out as a collective LAWTRON that has managed a successful escape out of a prior closed curve larger infinity that is now in the realm of non-existence since we remain dreamed away in a near endless inter-looping system of smaller and larger closed curved infinities, this was all called the 80's Weird Theory 30 years ago, and was removed from society. Should instead, peeps have been allowed to learn of these fantastic truths, there would now be a totally different operating world and global society around us all today. It might be worse, it might be better; but it would not be at all the way it is in a place where it was rejected and removed. Again, this is Quantum Law, and again, this truth can be totally absolutely backed up with complex mathematical equations and freaking formulas peeps.

This blog cannot in good conscience be wrapped up without a quick rehash about 1975 and 1976, and Jim Burr, and a place back then called, “TEEN CHALLENGE”. Just after the family made contact a month ago with me, while I was viewing the television episode of “L&O” with the dog fighting and dog walking and Lenny telling law counselor ladies that they are howling at the moon, and I learned that the girl who wrecked my entire fucking life had died of Liver Cancer back on New Years Day, and I no longer was trapped away from the only real home that I knew all of my life, and could now return whenever I want to, suddenly, all kinds of doors popped open down here in sunny hot ass Florida, college grant opportunities, housing, and believe me, a lot more stuff. I told on blogs half a decade ago about how Jim wanted me to go to this place called Teen Challenge. It was not only for teenagers but twenty somethings as well, and since I was down on my luck, he thought I should go. I thought that he was a fucking nut case, as this place was for those who needed help from substance abuse problems, a great place for most of the members of the great, “THAT-FAMILY”,but 'not me', Fatherland Hitler Anders. Just when I had decided to go to this silly place if for no other reason then to get Jim Burr off of my mother fucking back, suddenly all sorts of opportunities popped up right out of nowhere. Then when I said to Jim that I changed my mind, all the opportunities vanished like a magical Mentalist card parlor trick, literally overnight in a powerful ass flash, just like fucking ass magic. I know how real my curse is, the devil is, and magic is, whether it is backed by super high technology is meaningless, since 5,000 Einsteins' would be unable presently to be able to decode any of this super high teck, and hence, it is fucking total ass magic peeps, YO!!!!!!! But then we realize that magical time of 1975, me getting the fucking shit kicked out of me in Atlantic city by the King/Callio/Levy/McGuire branches of this wild Kennedy and Da Gama family, including the greatest recording artist of all time Mariah Carey, a distant cousin of her mom to Robert McGuire's dad. In any event, I used teck program sample-MR101, and could have just as easily used CY102. I try to keep things above board, and all I get is daily persecution, pummeling, and death siege. Still, maybe the Prize Patrol did come to the house in 1997, and Paula King Uwich prevented me from realizing it, you know, another Star Trek Tallosion parlor trick of the great MISTER Patrick Jane, DUH! Funny though, I had literally been hypnotized to forget my sole trip at age 13 and a half, up to Long Island to visit my Aunt Ruth in Babylon, and certainly forgot the plane crash in the bay. But then we can't all be heroes. You go there buddy, forget your name, sorry, don't ever get old BRO, the alternative is a billion times better. But the dog walking day and following this incredible five year old, here is where we get beyond the 'CANNOT BLOG' stuff, YO. END: