SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 158

608SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 158
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COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
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COPYRIGHTED MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN
SWORN STATEMENT UNDER LIBEL AND PURJURY:
ALL STATEMENTS HEREIN ARE FACTURAL,
THEY ARE NOT IN ANY WAY, DEVIATIONS FROM
THE TRUTH KNOWN BY ME AS BEST AS IS
POSSIBLE AND TO BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

As soon as I got off the telephone with my friend, Ann King Silva, I activated the computer to do this blog, and immediately realize that my settings again are all switched back to living on 36th Street, San Mateo, California, and the time reads accordingly. Let me now effect repairs for my true address of 601 Avenue B, here in Fort Pierce, Florida, and make my clock read nearly a quarter before three, not much earlier, on this freaking ass 'Monday-HELLIDAY-HOLIDAY' afternoon.

I've told Ann, all the shit that' been done to me recently by these enemies, as well as all of the many cousins, distant as they may be, of her very special and incredible family, She knows about the leaving of the Egg Harbor Township Library that day in the autumn in 2006 with Ed and myself, after my blogging that I'll be arriving on 10-SC Avenue shortly, in enemy-town Atlantic City, NJUSAESMWG, and once there, good old non-fully-human ROBERT MCGUIRE was right there around us in the shadows, TO GREET US, in a not so friendly way, ATLANTIC COUNTY PROSECUTOR, cousin of my Philadelphia Doctor of the nineteen-seventies, Edmund L. Housel, and brother of Elisa, Joe King's Fiance', Joe is the only son of Ann King. They will be working on getting me my copy back on my all ready paid for and totally legal website disc, the MORIANITY-FOUNDATION, Google it u[p , folks, have a blast. If you come from the distant future and are accessing this through the cosmanet system, using distance delay channels AX57 or AX592, type in www.morianity-foundation.com/ as long as it is in the year of 2007 or the latter part of 2006.

Well, all night long, both of my GODESSESS interacted with me in wild and strange ways. Memories in this waking human dreaming right now, are blurry and fuzzy, tom say the very least. Ann knows and now remembers seeing the pix on this MF website, and neither Ed nor myself, remembers a thing about McGuire sticking his ugly head in my automobile passenger side front window. Take a look, ACP Housel. We had no knowledge that this event ever took place at all, and were amazingly stymied and quite flabbergasted when we developed the film disc at the Eckert Pharmacy, and saw this for the freaking first time ourselves. If this is not a major THREAT TO THE NATIONAL SECURITY, a powerful clan walking around amongst us with this kind of power and obviously not timid or shy about using their powers and abilities on both me and any or all of my associates or friends, then I do not know what would be, MISTER TOM RIDGE, SIR!!!!!!! Then I told Ann all about the time in June of 1996 when I left my swim club in West Deptford, New Jersey, the Haddonwood Swim and Health Club that was owned and operated by MISTER TONY ZENUN, how I proceeded to go to this psychic shop just down the road a mile or less, called “The Gathering Place”; and then that punk Nick took a hammer and ruined my hubcap on my Saturn Satan Automobile, cool combination, Satan wrecking a Saturn, who know, maybe a house divided against itself can stand up after-all.

Someone did a Golden Nugget Triple-A Auto Club on me yesterday, calling in a fake maintenance report saying my door to my apartment is broken, causing the maintenance peeps to knock early and awaken me for nothing, when there was nothing whatsoever wrong with my door. Someday when I know who ism doing this, I will sample your voice and you will be paid a personal visit from tom ridge and the boys of homeland security. As I said, I only wish I could sing like that shit up on U-Tube, computers can indeed come in quite handy. I think it was done better than 1980, and am wondering if artists still share the disdain for technology that the great Donna Gaines Summer did when I admitted to her that I used it back then.

Fire alarms are hell in public housing buildings. At all times, I need to be ready to put in my earplugs, and even then, slip on a pair of headset phones over even this, to avoid going totally ass deaf from the shrill sound. It lasts until the Fire Department can arrive and determine the apartment number where the smoke alarm went off, and only they can then proceed to terminate this gods awful piercing sound that in my opinion poses a health hazard to the hearing (OF), and not twice fucking hacked “ODF” the residents, but this is none of my business. I am in here saving money so I can return to New Jersey, and my friend Ann King, and be back amongst peeps who care about me. I need extra money so I can move all my personal belongings into storage up there and secure a place to reside, one of many homes owned and rented out by the infamous and eminent Judge Frank Rasso. The day that I moved in here and had to get up and work very hard, the next day, over at the HARVEST, www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ , three, count them Lex Luther Supershit, 3 fire alarms went off, late afternoon, and then the sleep destroying other two, one happening past midnight, and the final one around just shy of six in the fucking ass moUUUUUUUUUUUUrning!!!!!!! Any fucking cunt eating time that peeps wanna' make my fucking pathetic twisted ass life nothing but a total endless never ending nightmare hot fire breathing hell, they have a million various ways of covertly fucking pulling off a string of different shit ass things, and never ever be recognized or caught for what they really are doing, and that of course is, killing me, year after year, every night and day, decade after decade, wrecking and obliterating my entire life, for reasons that these sick twat-lappers only know and understand.

I want to make sure that Scylla understands, that I don't hold her family against her for any of this, and all though we both were set up on that night of Saturday the second of August, nearly 25 years ago, I really will always remember in some hazy way, despite McGuire and Rogers 'Milk of Amnesia' (L&O) strobing hypnotic powers, the fun we had for an hour, and I would do it all over again, accept for the part of giving you a fake phone number, and ripping up yours, I am so sorry. You would have been worth Rikers Island, and you can tell Paula King the great TYPE-3 Exploratron, I said so. Nobody is perfect, right Bruce Pennock, Vance Grody street addresses all notwithstanding, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Maybe I've had issues with many members of your distant clan, Ann, but you are my best friend. I know that your late daughter, Dawn-Marie, forced you to write me that note, back in 2010. Eric, I know you too have been placed under some type of extreme pressure to hurt me the way you have done,.b This is why I totally know that Christianity is fake and phony, MISTER POPE. If a consistent pattern over nearly six decades of time now, proves beyond any shadow of doubt, that this thing that is against me is much stronger than your so called GOD, the way you see things, then I will go with what my five senses perceive every time. I will not deny reality just because it can indeed become way to ugly to stare down and face many times, I will still not deny its existence nor its truths. It is all nothing but a gigantic humongous hoax that has lasted for thousands of mother fucking years now. Someday soon, MORIANITY will bring the OZ-CURTAINS down on all of this, and the world will simply have to awaken someday to truth and enlightenment.

Yes, 42 years ago, I was walking down the great mighty Tennessee Avenue of Atlantic City, and Sarah was right there with Nina and Paula, and a car came down from Pacific Avenue,m towards the boardwalk and stopped outside the shop of the great Karge. I still hear you loud and clear hollering into the car window, right there outside the doorway into McGuire's BOTBAR bar and Pittsburgh Hotel, “YOU FRIENDS ARE IN THE SHOP”. Some things cannot be forgotten with a gallon on Doctor Rogers Nasal Spray shots of Propophol, or MOA

Lots of planes are flying around, and have been, yesterday I was driving over to the old place to finish the little shit up, and somebody removed all of the carts and the dollies, and I had to kill myself getting lots of small but heavy shit up to my fucking #607 apartment. The same fucking chopper that is stalking me fucking illegally, and has been for 25 years or so; again, was in front of me, while I was fucking driving down good old Orange Avenue, around 2-2:30 yesterday; towards my old residence.

It is only a matter of time before this WOMO scum twisted evil fucking demonic despicable enemy loses completely, and this is all over. Someday, I have to fucking die, and then you cannot fucking hurt me ever again, HA-HA. If this happens, then fine; but the other possibility, is that you are gonna' be found out and caught, no matter how mother fucking clever and all mighty powerful that you may think that you all are out here, mother fucking jerk offs! Maybe I should lower my major cussing level. After-all, as the blogs of October 5th of 2008 state, I am not 'standing at the foot of the stairs', am I right MO'-------NICK????????????

Yes, hopefully MI, you have forgiven me for 1986. It is me who cannot ever forgive myself for letting things turn out the way it all did, losing you for a second time. I cry myself to sleep every single night, ask Diana. Still, through STM, I saw and knew all of this back on the prior PITSY year of 1994. You know about it, you even agreed that I was “That-Boy, and until your parents came along down the beach and wrecked everything, I was happy for the first time in my life. I was the age in this interaction of waking mind, that you are now, today. I told you, and I meant it, and still do, “Have a nice life”. How Hollywood can live with themselves for capitalizing on my agony and endless tears is absolutely incomprehensible, unthinkable, and totally deplorable and abominable.

Bon Jovi's cousin sent me a note saying, “Mission accomplished, BRO”. I am not sure what he meant or means, and am still studying the situation. Sorry things fucked with your cousin, but as I'm quite sure that you know my friend, once they stop pumping gas, and go onto make it into the big time, they'll turn on you. That is merely the freaking story of life in this wovewee ol' world, there maitee.

LSS, I tried to put all of us out of our misery, it didn't work. I haven't given up yet, don't anybody count me out. As Jack McCoy on the “L&O” television show would put this so perfectly and eloquently, “I still have one more at-bats, so don't count me out”

END TWANSMISSION, SILWEE WABBIT ELMER, WHAAAAAA.