SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 143

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 143
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2297
SBT-DATFILE: CH-143-050711.971.55
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
BLOG SUTITLE 3: “STILL PICKING ON ME, YOU MUST
HAVE ONE POWERFUL DEATH WISH MY FRIENDS”
COPYRIGHT MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN/MWM/
2006-2011----(THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN)

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

Ed Lynch was a strange old dog my friends and fiends out there. Ann Silva told me on the telephone just the other day that she never heard anything from him and wonders if he remains in lock up or is now out of the hotel. The Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office has my legally paid for website on a his laptop's hard-drive. His machine was legally confiscated back in the summer time somewhere or early autumn, in the OH-MAROLA-NINE year. For those who wonder why I use this term, you should access my archived blogging texts at the site of www.blogger.com, in case you are not even reading these words on this site as I post here and to other internet spots. In case you won't do this, I had several teachers in 1969 at a Haddonfield, New Jersey special education school, who both made some statements to me that would have no possible rational explanation for being in fact made to me, one especially to a boy not yet even fifteen years of age, that would at least in today's world, would be quite inappropriate and in my opinion, sufficient grounds for getting a teacher suspended or canned completely. We need not get into that one, but as for the dates being called what I do from time to time, this teacher by the name of Misses Marola, always refered to years in this 21st century as for example, 2004 would be spoken as two thousand four. Now bear in mind that this was being done in the year of 1969, and except for the show known as, “2001, A Space Odyssey”, all science fiction writers and all other people spoke of years as 2004 for example as twenty-oh-four, and so forth, and somehow the mighty Misses Marola seemed to either be the only one who knew this by lucky chance and guesswork, or because she 'traveled', and we are not talking about Europe or the Bahamas, huh Nick, my old road-trip pal of 1996 and 2008? Many people write books and claim how their so-called psychic abilities permit them traveling around so many wild mysterious realms and other times and the Astral Plane, and I'll be quite frank with my readers, I am very skeptical of 99+% of these people and their writings and their claims. Most 'of', you, and (NOT ODF) are also just as skeptical of mine. The difference with mines however, is that these blogs are date and time stamped by the websites they post up into, and cannot be CHEATED. Nobody is black boxing between two websites here that they own, just to push counters up. No one is black boxing between their own website and their own u-tube postings either. This is all non-cheated and REAL, and so are my claims that what has happened to me, HAS INDEED FREAKING HAPPENED TO ME FOLKS. Why anybody would cheat or lie about anything blows my mind. Maybe a few real psychics are out there, but again, these persons are merely able to expand on the same sense of FEEL, that all of us have, it is like the human muscular system. Lift enough heavy barbells and keep upping the amount of weight you lift on various exercises that make different muscle groups grow bigger and harder and stronger, and this is what happens. Some truth is here, and Paula Uwich of Glendora, New Jersey is my personal proof to this, she has real power, she knew about Braxton, and from here, my own research just super confirmed many other things that I suspected right along. How could she know that “SARAH” was in prison? I should know about this type of maximum security prison, I blogged my own version of it. Nothing is making any of this vanish into the hat of the Copperfield's, YET? Let me move on now and tell that I was attacked today with quite a bit of annoying loud music, loud road noises, a computer Lattisaw hack jack attack quack, and a diarrhea attack, this was all intentionally done to me by WOMO enemies, and they have not learned yet that they will be counter struck with my blogged out words, immediately after giving me another emereffing rotten stinking BOTBAR day! Here is what I now will tell from yesterday, and unlimited future ammunition is available for me when these disease weeds of the bay continue giving me endless crap. Also, at right about half past ten, just five quarters of an hour back, I took a super low and quite loud private airplane attack, zenithing right over the roof of this freaking ghetto house here on the great all mighty 26th Street, in FPFLUSAESMWG, in this exact signature vibration of the atomic hyperspace in five dimension.

The full long details will not be told, just a little bit to get some hearts pumping nice and hard. I spent 153 days and nights all in one nine hour period, while residing in Cherry Hill, NJUSAESMWG, living in another parallel universe, in 1986. Most of this story is not bloggable, it is way too powerful, and it involves United States Presidents, as well as top scientific and research facilities, and classified information. I have no desire to be taken to the BAY and have my door come crashing in a few hours from now by federal agents. Still, when I was in this other location, the All Mighty Goddess of this world and beyond, was interacting with me quite differently, as were other people in numerous positions of power, authority, and name recognition. I had been contacted by someone in Washington, DC, and ordered to report to an address there where a secret meeting took place with many powerful world owners. They told me that a song that my daughter had written and I had copyrighted for her, was a cover up and that they knew I really could 'travel around' in unconventional ways, and demanded that I tell them exactly what the entire next 30 years would be like on Wall Street, and with major events. Naturally, I denied it all, and said it was just music, and that if I could do these things, I would never be a party to this type of horrendous despicable behavior. I was then taken to someplace in the Atlantic Ocean, a secret small island where the military had a totally covert operation going, and I was placed in a hospital type of housing area, mostly confined to one room and my bed. I was able to eventually convince these captors of mine, that I would cooperate with them, and so they released me back to a place where I was residing on Ohio Avenue, in Atlantic City, where a large walk up apartment building exited, that does not exist here in this universe, and where I was living with a very gorgeous laboratory technician from the Atlantic City Medical Center, by the name of Phyllis Alexander. My wife there, Paula King, and myself, had recently separated for a second time, and this time, it was because of some scandal about my being in trouble with Wall Street and the SEC. I only have some of the details, but that is a lot more than I ever remembered from this powerful 1986 interaction. I had many other places where I also lived, the main place was in Egg Harbor, New Jersey, and over here, is known as the Roundhouse Museum, but over there, it is exponentially larger and has five stories, and nearby to it, is another building that housed about 220 families, and all of the land around, several square miles, all was part of this one estate. Paula as well as my younger daughter PEE, all lived there, and I would visit there upon occasion. But I had a strange enemy that came from the future and had fun playing with me like a toy. In my so-called fictional book called, “The Permission Barrier”, some of this story is told and disguised around a bit. Still, it all happened. Putting pieces together in hindsight, when I stayed at Tom Reale's home in 1970, over there, I had been there every summer, and never at the Trinidad Hotel on Tennessee Avenue. There was no Tom Reale over there, just the Callio family, and the King family, and Victoria Callio and Paula King were all the same person there, whereas this is all different here. In this universe, I had fallen in love with Paula at the age of fifteen, and we were married two years later, but she left me in 1979 and said that I was too immature. The wild dude that I refer to as the alchemist in many old blogs over the past 4-6 years, was one of Robert McGuire's sons, and he had four sons. Over here, I do not know about his offspring and never checked out his line of family after him, as I was so busy checking his dad and those all around him in many directions. This is another man of mystery. Only the man named Ed Lynch knows this, besides me, as we witnessed his appearing in a photograph, and we have no memory at all of his ever being right there at the car on Tennessee Avenue that day. I was told this same thing was done to both MI and me, a little Latin verbal humor here. The only reason that I have remembered it all slowly over the past two years or so, is because by pure random chance, I played the wrong side of a cassette tape at my job-site in my car while guarding at the Cifaloglio Trucking site one night. Hearing the “MI” on the tape brought it all back, slowly, ever so slowly, and bit by bit, and piece by piece, I now am where I am, but at this place where I went to yesterday or now really, back on Friday, a strange dude explained something to me that put things into a major hyper time new perspective. The same enemies want me to help them in this universe, only here, they are using me in an entirely different way. Over there, casino gambling never happened in Atlantic city until the 21st century came around. There was no roulette playing for me, and hence no learning about PARALLEL EVENT, and how to apply this technology to the game's three outside betting parameters, as explained by me on so many of my past blogging texts. Over here, t5hey just use the parallel event on me, or said more accurately, against me, as they knew that they could make their Dow Jones Markets go from 1,600 points to 14,000 points within twenty years. They did exactly this, and the 20 years after 1986 all speaks for itself. Still, as Neil;son puts it so well, this is how the story goes, but as I will now amend and add to the3se great words, there is a lot more to this freaking tale of misery and woe, and it will be forthcoming, first to the Atlantic County Prosecutor, as I am going to demand my website back, as I legally paid for it and did nothing wrong, and plan to hire a Florida attorney to pursue this matter, so I can re-post this up as the MORIANITY-FOUNDATION-2.

For all persons totally miserable and realize that this life here is total hell, and want to escape from it, read the last several blogs, and I will retell again in other ways, later on, why this works, why hyperspace is and does what it is and does, and why things break and crumble like Mount Saint Helen's Pedersen Miseries, Japan, and the American South, and on and on, when you do the simple electromagnetic trick that I know how to do and have been doing now since 1980, or shall I rephrase and say, PITSY-1.

END TRANSMISSION.