SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 154

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 154
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
MORIANITY PROJECT FROM 1995 CONTINUES
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER 4:
“KING WUSSBAG HAS MOVED TO 7TH AND DEEDEE”
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
DATE AND TIME SEND BACK TEXT FILE:
CH-154-042411.923

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

I've fallen under the normal “MOVING WOMO SCUM ENEMY ATTACK”, nothing one bit new, as it would only be new if it was not happening; still folks, hold the mother fucking shit onto your hats, and make sure you're sitting down for this freaking ass blog, YO. If you are standing upright, then do not blame me if you fall down flat on your freaking face by the time you read the words 'end transmission'. First, let me get through the basics.

I have the total aerial package, I see choppers ahead of me while driving to work in the morning, and I get a lot of airplanes zenithing directly over me at stores, and places of my personal errands. This morning was filled with chemtrails, that ended by the time the major damage at my fucked up miserable hell cubed job, had all been successfully perpetrated on me, and the list reads on and on, and I will not waste anyone's time any further, as an idiot should get the general idea that I am just about ready to fucking take my mother fucking life. When I say this morning, I realize that I am not back on line until my cable hookup tomorrow, so really, this should be a supplemental blog entry, but it is now 20 minutes past ten on Tuesday night, and this blog will not post up until sometime tomorrow afternoon, on May the 'freaking-non-glittering-lucky-7'-25th of May, YO.

Since I packed up the computer several freaking days ago, I could give you a 50 page long winded twister of a blog, but it will not be a super long one peeps, just a real powerful Mountainpen-Goodie. That's a promise WOMO-MO!!!!! Today was the worst SUPER-BOTBAR-DAY of the entire bunch, and definitely on the top-100 list since August 15th of 1986. How I wish I never met the great Willis family, and the entire Trenton, New Jersey deal had never happened at the turn of the mother fucking century, but then as we all should know quite well by now Mister Joel, this kind of talk is 'hyperspace-equation'; and a basic waste of time and energy.

Let me tell you all a thing or eight, about my wonderful place, where the AARP placed me, under the Stimulus Jobs Package for Senior Citizens, called the Harvest, at 25th and Orange Avenue, here in lovely stifling hot ass Fort Pierce, Florida. I telephoned and told all the violations done by this so called 'charitable organization', to the AARP, and Thursday, I will be officially applying for a location-transfer. They put me with that nut job social fucking worker, the great and illustrious April Leefarms Haddonfieldseventydreamdestruct, and then the shit they fucking do to me at this place is unspeakably fucking despicable. Today, they did something that will make me look like a fucking fool and an idiot nut case, for no fucking good reason, to numerous new workers there. They are there under the Florida Workforce Program. I too am registered with this place, but never plan to use their services, as now I know that they are nothing more, as is HARVEST, than time traveling scum bag enemies, and are just there, for the fucking sole purpose; of making me suffer under agonizing fucking misery, at the speed of light cunt lapping cubed.

Death angels are major fucking bad lately, it is worsening again. This is when you hear that sudden super nasty high whine sound in either one ear or the other one, but never both, and it can last a long time or a short time, as well as be small, medium, or super ass loud and horrific. They are getting fucking bad again. Also, many uninformed folks love to confuse this with Tinnitus, and it has nothing in this world to fucking do with the hearing disorder that is kn own as 'Tinnitus'.

'They' kept shutting off my fucking television somehow this late afternoon, or early evening. I do not have cable yet, so also, I am without TV or internet; but I do have a video player hooked up to the freaking TV, like DUH. 'THEY' can be substituted in two other terms and ways peeps, 'WOMO', and the 'MILLIONTH-COUNCIL'. This shit has been up on my fucking blogs now for six straight fucking years. Here is what is not up there, not anywhere, folks, so inhale a nice deep breath, and sit down, OK JK-1996?

My coming to Florida, altered the entire normal weather pattern. If this is the fucking lightning capitol, then explain why lightning was all around me back in New fucking Jersey, 3 or 4 times more frequently over any averaged out 18 month period, or the length of time that I've now been in this messy soup of stinky swampland, that's been built up by capitalist pigs. Homeless shelters set records on my first winter here, for being open many more nights, due to excessive cold. It never rains, and this isn't Southern California, or any other song sung diamond nightmares. All of my mother fucking ass life peeps, when I go someplace, the entire shit all around me, that used to be the norm; totally alters. Many peeps have said to me through the many years of my lifetime as Mountainpen, “You effect things”, or “You effect people”. It is noticed. Believe that, or not, this will always be, and well it should be, your fucking choice; but some astute and observant onlookers, that get to know anything about me over any kind of time, KNOW THIS SHIT FOR A FACT. I have totally had profound effects on small and great peeps alike, and this can be freaking documented over nearly a half century of time now. I do not live on this Earth to do any of these things. This shit is just happening, whether any of you out here on the great net, choose to take me at my word, or not, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The reason this real time blog at this point, is being a bit evasive about what was done to me Tuesday at the great HARVEST, is because, I wanna' see what the shit happens tomorrow, and then, really tell shit, that will be based on what fucking happens to me. I may up and fucking quit. Look, I know that other people are not aware of living in 5 full dimensions of reality, but guess what; THAT'S THERE PROBLEM! I refuse to step down into ignorance, and if the rest of humanity wants to stay in darkness and asininity, then that is totally their own decision. However, this tiny little statement, is the basis for what today's problem and situation was all about at my work site. I don't expect peeps to understand the full complexity of Paula King. I merely expect them to create internet pages on it. I do not expect anyone to understand the complex cosmic relationship between me and my two wonderful special daughters. I expect back biting, gossip, hate pages on the net system, and much worse; such as today's event. I said I expect shit, but I never said that I plan to simply bury my head in the sand, and not stand up to monsters and bullies, that are making my fucking nightmare hellish life, endlessly even more miserable than it is all ready without any of their godsdamn interference.

I opened up a little bit was never was totally forthcoming about Dave Roth and me in the Warren Grove, NJUSAESMWG Military war games pine-land area, on one particular late night or early morning at the place we gave the name of HIGHPOINT to, back in July of 1997. I said that he was the most open minded dude I ever knew, but that even he had his limits when playing around with some of my wild knowledge that pertains not only to the existence of a 5th dimensional hyperspace, but my abilities to play in this arena, to make tests, create pre-meditated effects, and much more. When he poo-poo'd the thing, I went on solo, and did it without him. Maybe this was the error of my life, the 12th of July not withstanding, and not 27 years ago on that bus ride home from the child molester's home on waterworks Avenue, but this was all going down in real time, with a now, or should I say then, grown up adult Paula King, who I had known since the summer of 1967. Just because she threw me under the Atlantic City boardwalk on fireworks night in 1969, means nothing. Reality is way more complex than peeps could start to fathom. What happened in other transdimensional parallel universes, caused this event right here, to happen to me that deplorable wicked night. Let me stop for now on this point, in a promise to return you all to it quite soon, but first; here is the growing hole of hyperspace effects on me, lately; and this is no delusion, and certainly no laughing matter or LD joke. Believe and read at your own speed and discretion, it is sworn statements of total absolute truth, under penalty of libel and perjury. This parlor trick is very real, Stacey Swain Picard.

I had a bad tooth back in New Jersey that I planned to get extracted. When I came to Florida, the Medicare system changed, be it a state thing, or a hyperspace thing, this is not my call, I will merely report the facts, you can make the judgment calls here folks. Fifteen, maybe as long as 20 days ago, but no more, UI suddenly was walking somewhere, and this tooth was back in my mouth. It had finally fallen out, or what was left of it, several months ago in the beginning of the year or around the holidays late in 2010m somewhere. Yesterday, Monday, I was driving to my new place from my old place after working and then finishing up some packing of small last minute items, and POW, my tooth was not there, it is there, it is not there, come on peeps, you do the fucking math here, or the cosmic dentistry and Picard parlor tricks of the lovely 'Q-Girl'. You really do need to get into these shows and dissect these scripts carefully and painstakingly. This one TNG-Star Trek episode, like totally, as the kids might put this, explains my situation with SSJKK, especially when she takes RIKER away from '10-Forward', and instantly right into her private fantasy world. In this case, an early version of Scylla realizes this is wrong, but an advanced Scylla would keep playing HER game, endlessly, relentlessly, never stopping, never ending. Omnipotence does not bring out kind gentle qualities, it makes dictators and monsters out of what would be otherwise, nice normal average regular peeps. The great SSJKK did all of this eternity ago, and has long forgotten all of us, as SHE only knows now, how awesome and powerful SHE is, and could totally care less about anything else. I would let them torture me for life at Guantanamo Bay, and sign away, legally, all my rights as a human being, in exchange for being able to make many millions of peeps just somehow suddenly magically see all of this powerful reality and truth overnight, so that when I would awaken tomorrow, and this literally would be a world where I finally escaped hell; a LAWTRONIC IMPOSSIBILITY of course. OK, that's just the 'hyperspace tooth'. Shall we move on down the 'PC auditorium of mysteries' way further now, YO? Another deep breath and stay in the chair folks, I mean it.

I had a combo DVD-VCR player/recorder that I bought at a local Fort Pierce pawn shop early in 2010, on the advice of the Manatee RV Park Maintenance Man, Danny, and it played VHS tape, DVD's, and CD music. All of a sudden, it never played CD's. It just never did, the feature is not there. Then there is my bed. This bed was given to me by the peeps who put me in that slum ghetto where I managed to get out of, PTL and hell a puke yuk!! This is not my bed. I did not realize it until I moved in here with it, it simply is not my bed at all. The broken wood on the bottom is all gone, the soft mattress that it originally was is now much firmer. Eyeglasses broke, then were not broken, then were, tooth brushes, it is so far beyond James Patterson or any of these peeps, writing fake stories, there simply is no way to get as handle that adequately starts employing any decent comparison to existing material in any form. I never posted anything on U-Tube, yet I have seemingly done this. Not one, but two songs. I have no memory whatsoever of doing them, or posting them. I have read blogs that tell the story, so the complexities involved in this would need to be astronomical, as a simple transfer of time-lines would also leave the blogs empty on the subject, only it doesn't. This list goes on and on. People tell me we talked on the phone, I know we never did. I do not have Schizophrenia features and I sure do not have early senility or Alzheimer's disease. It is 25 minutes shy of one now, and I ate dinner a while ago, and did a little more blogging. Now I need to crash, so this blog will move right along later on today on this 25th May day here in Harold Phony Camping's 2011. Now you can go mad, old friend. Stop trying to put this lovely luscious 'Q-Girl' in a box H.C. I have known HER, (SCYLLA), forever, and by names you could only dream of. Give it up. My entire life is made up of the basic plots on three television shows, STAR TREK-TNG, LAW AND ORDER-ALL OF THEM, and THE MENTASLIST. So is Red John dead, or is he letting his bones be picked by the Clarence Harris watchers of 1998?

Let us understand 'EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND', and just what PHASE-3 EXPLORATRONS REALLY ARE, AND JUST WHAT THEY ARE CONTINUING TO FREAKING DO. In many universes, peeps we know and interact with, have died all ready. Concentrically, many here whom have died, are alive and well, in many coexisting parallel universes in fifth dimensional hyperspace. Phase-3 exploratrons or 'P3E', have formed a consortium of as sort, making them more powerful, and this even more dangerous than they ever would be as sole individual explorers who l have learned how to become dominant in a parallel universe, first over their own waking doppelganger there, and then later, even gaining the fantastic ability to overtake and become dominant over non doppelganger, thus it could be anyone or anything. In a very far away place, a man is alive and well, with his wife Julia White, and they both visit me here, and overtake and dominate me. When he is awake through me in the 5th dimension, I am indeed the father of his children, all though the biological reality would disagree. Just more than three years ago, I began witnessing this nightmare overtaking me. This is the a powerful P3E, who many times enters into a large bobcat of a sort, and as I type at 12:48 AM, a nasty short burst left side freaking death angel attack just struck me, it is gone now and goof fucking riddance. Now I know why it struck. Some, power or force fucked with my health, and this is the next day now, this should really be a supplemental entry blog, man am I fucking shit the christ up. SOSO-WEIN. DUH! Oh yes Daddy-oh, I woke u[p quite fucked up, and one finger was numb. It took two hours before I came out of it. My job was not too bad, I expected worse. It is like last summer, shit ass jerk offs all over the place, it will go on for a few months now and then be gone, and good mother flower riddance. 'Mucho sickumswailen cherundo', it may not be spelled right, but time travel is real, and Ann King knows this now, and it will be proven to her quite shortly. After I spoke over the telee to her yesterday, from the old place; I told her some heavy shit, and then this morning, I am driving down Orange Avenue to work just shy of nine in the morning, and what else is new (WEIN), there's that fucking time-plane in the distance, due west of me, climbing in altitude faster than the space shuttle could do, and always in front of me. This vehicle has not yet been built. Still, there is no yet, no later, no earlier, only fucked up nasty ass parlor tricks that light up like magical ash trays while not kept safely tucked away in wide closed in areas off of living room so long ago. The problem with
Ann's wonderful family, is that I'll admit, they are quite fascinating, and they have owned the cosmos for 64 million-million years, also known by a select few mortals as eight million kalpa. The parlor trick is one huge one, and not a entire large grouping of them. They are advanced type-3 Exploratrons. Nothing I say phases Rick Berman, Michael Pillar, or the late Gene Roddenberry, they all know this shit's real, who's fucking kidding who for the sake of the fucking ass Sar?

Don't get so fucking worked up FBI-FISA whack jobs. When you entered my flop/pad/crib early in this century at Mullica Township, you saw what I wrote in 1975 about Russ Deflavia, in my personal phone book. You saw Oak Street Andrews, transdimensional Donna Patterson, and a lot more, including 175 Peninsula Drive. But what you did not see were any large helium balloons floating over my trailer. They did not read 2008 World Series Champions, the great Philadelphia Phillies. You also did not find OJ Simpson's bloody knife, nor did you locate my bloody shoe, so in order to perform that monumental task, you had to go over to Thirteen-ville-600, also Sir Prince known as Washington, DC. I knew I should never have written “future famous singer” next to that name. Still, since Billy Joel is starting to work on my damn conscience today, I will do it the best way that I can. I will tell what I know and the best that I can tell it.

The Cable peeps will not be hooking me up until tomorrow. When I arrived home after doing only half my normal work schedule, either they or I got the time screwed up, I thought for sure that the appointment was left for between 2-5 PM. Somehow, I must have freaking awakened in another slightly off centered 5th dimensional shift, AGAIN; where it was made for between 9-noon instead, and hence, I came home to find the COMCAST sign hanging on my doo,r saying that they are sorry that we missed each other. Hay I'm still missing Diana, but the entire damn casino didn't have to shit out a nugget brick in Atlantic City, let alone all be wearing goofy non-privecode buttons that day in the middle eighties just for my sake, DUH. Color me impressed and Briscoe Beethoven. Don't call me or my privecode, Lenny, and if you must call, please don't keep tape recording me, ya dip wad shit head, YO.

Another subject not talked a lot about in my blogs is the mighty and beautiful goddess who went by the name of Sarah Jacobson, back in the early seventies, in Haddonfield, New Jersey. Looking back today, I wanted to have this luscious goddess so bad, I practically drop fucking dead to this day when I so much as think about this wild kid. She was two and twenty-two, all at the same time, and all with the help of a powerful strobing light. I told how she knew the future, and seemed to know a lot about me, yet here she is in a stare rehabilitation class that was in one section of my special education school. Poor Doctor Harold Camping, TOLD YOU. But I'll admit one thing. He had me wondering if I'd zap into one of the realities where indeed it could happen the way he told, after-all, there are countless numbers of parallel realities and universes in the unfathomably vast and limitless boundaries of fifth dimensional hyperspace. I have been switching over and all around like mad recently, and this is why I cannot leave this life, until; the World Laboratories releases me from what is most likely the culprit for doing this to me in the freaking first place, and that would be the Laser Retracing. Am I permitted to tell much more herein, UNCLE HEINZ GOTTWALD???????????? Right now it's freaking twenty minutes shy of three this Wednesday ass afternoon, on the 25th of May, in 2011, or 'DOOMSDAY + 4', right Harold Nostradamus, YO? Is he more magical than two way door buzzer systems that hear the magic word spoken by John King, without GS holding down the listen button, or is the magic far beyond what I ever admitted to on these blogs, for fear that they will turn the torment and torture buttons aimed at me even higher? Yo0u see peeps, the governing forces such as state or country or whatever can imprison, torture, and execute, those they find guilty of crimes in violation of their laws that would mete out to a severity level warranting one of these things, or more. But out of all three, only torture is the powerful punitation. Death ends it, at least as far as mans reality is concerned here in 2011, so kill me, and then, what else can you do to me, so is that enough to do to me, and this is the Shakespearean question sought after by the WOMO for so long now. Prison, sheeeeeeeeeeit, they've had me in a prison of illusion forever, again folks, SOSO-WEIN is my response to that????????????????? The power involved in all of this can be wrapped up by reading all of the great books by all of the new age fathers and authors, beginning after the good old cheesy nineteen-eighties began floating forever away into the recorded history books, BRAHHHHH!!!!It all has to do with what you have attached 'what you think your thoughts are' and connected it all up together. Let me blow your fucking minds quickly with this whittle example. If you are the smartest person on the planet, and have a fantastic memory as well, you still will never get the same effect out of life, that you would if you recorded in a journal, minute details of both waking and dreaming life; and then use 30 days or so as a lag time, and begin playing back tapes or reading printouts, and always staying in this lag of time. Just mama-freaking do this, and you will get a mind blow that my words could never hope to fucking express, and adequately describe; to any of you out here on the great net-system. Hay, don't do it, and I'll tell you something my peeps. You will be missing a boat ride into wonders and mysteries of Dolphin Flipper, times the power exponent of a thousand!!Naturally, and with no attempts in bragging in any way, this is only one thing that I can teach to the world, and if they would ever listen to me, which is highly doubtful; lookout, WOMO. Still, and again without bragging; I could tell all of you literally hundreds of other little juicy ass secrets, that are every bit as good, and better; than this one. Talk about my bouncing around in the 5th dimensional hyperspace like a 1988 copyrighted freaking Mickey-D-YOYO dancer, I plugged in my DVD-VCR machine, and it no longer plays CD music as it always used to. It is the same machine, but now; it simply no longer does this. If I am wrong on all my hypertronic ideas, then just please show me where, Clarence Harris, Phil Patru, Steve Peterson, and 'Rob Andrews', literally the greatest voice in Washington, from humble backgrounds and beginnings in the Albert Pillegi band, two blocks from my high school of time trip loops, the Haddon Township High of Westmont, New jersey, USAESMWG, and Oak Street and Angel. But then, we have Pres-16; right Jim Kirk, old style future music man??

When Captain Next, also Sir-P known as Pick-A-Card, used the words, PARLOR TRICKS, on the episode of TNG-ST, with the lovely eighteen year old Q-Goddess, I must point out more proof that the entire Hollywood gang knows both me, and things about me and my personal nightmare story. We have the place called New Jersey, we have the controlled Magnesonic-Q-Swain Twisters, and if I really was trying to make a laundry list for the sake of bragging endlessly on totally verifying beyond any doubt that for all of this to be coincidental would require in believing in tooth fairy and Easter bunny odds for being so, add in Santa Claus, and MC and her powerful white-stuff this year. I will always love this incredible goddess, and SHE knows it.

Talk about showing THAT BOY who's boss, wow have I freaking learned. At the risk of getting a major ass whooping by both Kevin Costner and crack head gorgeous Whitney, you know, MC, that “IWALU”. If that is anybody's problem besides mine, my now late Uncle Stuart Mason, would have perfect words to retort here; and these words being, YO, “Tough beans”. She is all yours in this time reality, road-trip time-man. Still, let us speak on a while regarding this road-trip time-man. My GOOGLE time stamped blogs on www.blogger.com/ should verify a lot of things for so many naysayers, scoffers, doubters, and down right out and out freaking Mountainpen haters out here. You merely begin when I am reset up with Comcast, sort of like now, only back at the addr4ess of 65-A Middle Road, in Hammonton, NJUSAESMWG, in middle September somewhere in 2008, after being offline due to transit with THAT-FAMILY, a non time transit this time, YO. 'Travelers' are educators, Wall Streeters, entertainers, and gravitate towards certain things. I have made a complex pattern that Detective Studderreale of the SVU would be quite proud of. This dude's persona and character is fascinating, Mister Spock. He is a combination of Holmes and Einstein, only one character is a phase three being, while the other one is a phase four being. Of course the L&O-SVU detective is also a phase four being who tried to get here into the waking world in ways that would break Lawtronics, and hence, wound up as a fictional character inside of the Wolfgang's imaginations and conceptions. When these shows were all new, I never interacted with them in any way, in real time. Later, the forces caused the interaction with the first show itself, and I began viewing the television show called, 'Law & Order', on a regular basis. When my time in the north was winding down, so was the show, but it continued until just this very year. Then without new shows, I began watching the other spinoff shows, such as the one mentioned above, as well as Criminal Intent, and others, now including the Las Angelis deal. I know the mother fucking city is spelled wrong, but don't complain, my readers, the spell checker is fucking worthless and will not tell me how to properly spell one of the largest mother trucking cities on this freaking ass planet, BRO. Technology, huh Copyright office, ism it good to me, well, those were the second lyric words following the next bar of music after the 4 noted word of TECHNOLOGY, my friendly Washington 2007 examiners, YO.

One great thing about Avenue D and 7th, here in hot ass Fort Pierce, Florida, I love trains, and I get to hear a lot of trains and train whistles here. Fro0m my address back in the White City section of town, as well as up in the western ghettos of 26th Street and Avenue E, the trains were barely audible, even on the occasional 'quiet' night. Now, I enjoy hearing my train, I always loved trains, and sure as shit took enough rides on them, right MISTERS Brad Messenger, and Sigmund Malyeska? If you know anything about me today old pal Brad,m you know my life was as wild as you ever imagined it could be, as I know you never had a pal like me, not before, and not after. No disrespect was ever meant, when I talked about your exquisite lovely mother, and the ice tea joy juice. Still, ice tea, when do the coincidences even attempt to slow down, and then 'MI PRECIOUS MORIANS'? Give me a break, YO. Then the “BUT” hack at the library computer, as though the great NC all ready knew or gave it to me and then went back. “BING, reality”. Some may say bullshit to that, but my response is, then you, explain all of this emereffing stuff, BRAHH!

Well, tomorrow I call the 'AARP' peeps, regarding my reassignment. I just cannot stand that fucking HARVEST place any longer, as all of the higher ups there, totally think that they are all a bunch of fucking little demiassgods, just running all around in there. In “REALITY”, the great “BING” SEARCH ENGINE SAYS, politely of course, “SHULL-BIT”!!!!!!!!!!! They had the unmitigated gall to put my photo on their website without even asking me, a clear violation, or at least it should be, of the American fucking system. If Dawn-Marie had burned down my house or injured me, you can bet your mother fucking ass that the owners, Gini and Austin Hunt, without the ington, would be at best, my 50/50 partners, and at worst, out on their butts, and on the street. But then when is it ever a fucking fair or just world, for MOUNTAINPEN, also known, 'Sir Prince', as MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN, and also “Mark Wayne Mohr, of Hammonton, New Jersey, and Googling up that nightmare hate-page on me, is enough to let you all know just how I feel about this evil monstrous fucking demonic sick twisted 'Joe-Dad' world. Move over, Oliver Jefferson!

Let's return to the topic of freaking Exploratronic- Supermind. Paula King is one of the characters, Julia White is the main character, and on the Astral Plane, is Viqueen Mini-Great Jewelly Nurockey. The awake world mortal humankind got their idea of the VIKING from this incredible gang or group of eighty-seven delicious super teen-queen girls, with Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, in charge as their leader. But this is just one of trillions or quadrillions or more things that this powerful and mind bending goddess is into. Exploratronic Supermind or ES for short, is not a topic I can go from start to finish, even on a three thousand page long freaking blog. It is not even something that most would understand no matter how I would even go about the herculean task of attempting to explaining it. Still, today is the time to be a bit more specific on this subject than I've ever been so far on any of these six years of my blogging career. Sheeeeeeeeeeeit, career, what a fucking ass disastrous career. Funny how some rhyming words come to mind instantly such as FEAR, TEAR, TOM REALE THE QUEER, LEER, JEER, but 'then again', I also can think of a dozen neutral rhymes, as well as more positive ones. Nothing is perfect, right Bruce Allen Pennock of 2 Beaver Drive? Don't electrocute me for my sheer honesty here, my deer austere Senator Trophywife Hopefulpres. Leer jets are one thing, and so are chemtrails and my pal on the mighty U-TUBE, known as “SKYWITNESS”, but then I am about to begin taking photographs of an aerial vehicle from far into the future, and posting up my shit as well. If my bud, SKWT on UT wants to contact me, he can do so. My problem is that I am the reason behind this whole shit eating thing that he is posting stuff about, and right away, when I say this, I am either a liar, a bragger, or a freaking sike case, and NEVER MIND THAT IT IS ALL MOTHER FUCKING REAL AND HONEST AND TRUE, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I also seem to be behind shit happening in a destructive way, every single time I either physically move to any new location as I have done this week, as well as any time I record songs and music. Just exactly what is really behind all this, is wrapped up in the science of non Empire State Buildings, or the other ES, of the Harrah/Sarah worlds of other Atlantic City's. MC, did you know your lovely name pops up when you spell or try to spell the casino on the Atlantic City bay, NOT OWNED by our wonderful mutual phase-4 man of great power, the Harrah Casino? Say Levy, and other nice french words, or refrain if possible. Aniwho peeps, this blog has told nothing, yet look how freaking look it is, sorry about that Maxwell Smart. “I KNOW NOTHING”, SCHULTS, “NOTHING” OYR? But for right now, I'm keeping my freaking ass mouth shut, we don't want our friends kicked off welfare, right TQ?

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