SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 167

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 167
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2296
SBT-DATFILE: CH-167-060911.881
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER 4:
“QUINTESSENTIAL DEMENTEDNESS IN
AN ULTIMATE ART FORM, 33 MONTHS LATER”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
KEEPING ALL BANKS INCLUDING TYRA'S HAPPY,
MARK WAYNE MOHR/MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

Quintessential dementedness is what is behind those great recently referred to on my blogs as OZ-CURTAINS, and from now on will just be shortened to OZCS. Don't die on me Sarah Callio Dream Taker. My grandfather wouldn't sell you or anyone connected with you, rotten directions to the nearest rest room, if your butt was on fire. As for good old Joe and our prior late summertime bet, I totally forgot about that until opening up a crate in my recent move, showing me where I buried the 500 twenty dollar bills, about fifteen miles west of here, and not so fat from Billy Crouch's mighty residence. Speaking of hyperspace, do-overs, and telephone book listings; not only is my name missing, AT&T; but all of the other 'eight MOHR names' as well, in Saint Lucie County. Did Trump Graphics pay off allofem to move away, or to go unlisted? Yagodda admit folks, this is weird; but then with me, what the shit ain't? As for putting all of this nightmare into a great ultimate art form, and while quoting Mister Doctor Eckstein who if you remember peeps, was the fine outstanding gentleman who was directly responsible for getting me placed onto the Social Security Disability system, back in the autumn of the year 1994, without ever having to hire the famous law offices of 'B&B', and become one of the extremely rare cases of 'first apply/first accept'. This speaks for itself, and also is another ultimate, and that being, the ultimate axiomatic reality.

This is your lucky night folks, as I am gonna' tell you all a lot of super monster-ass huge, and devastatingly major mother fucking secrets, so be warned up front right now, and remember that you can always change the 'blogging channel' at any time, or for short, I call this the BLANNEL, on many of my prior older blogs of my 6+ year blogging tear-career!!!!! I'll begin with this huge ass secret, whether anyone will ever believe me or not, or likes it or not, it is the truth, and I'll mother fucking testify to it in any court, and on any day, MISTER FEDERAL GOVERNEMT, G-8, UN, WOMO, WHATEVERRR, SCUM!!!!!

Every time I blog at night, and this has been going on for many years and at many addresses, YO, the temperature goes up higher and higher and higher. Tonight when I began, the air conditioner was set at 82 degrees and was off and had been off for over an hour, as it is past dark here, or was, when I started this blog. Every five minutes, I have lowered the setting by one degree, and now, about a half hour into the blog at 9:38 PM, I have reduced this one degree setting, a total of 8 mother fucking times, it is set now on 74, and I am still hot and uncomfortable. Before I began I was totally happy at 82 degrees in the setting, so the room was cooler than 82. Now it is running, and set down all the cunt lapping way to 74 degrees, and you people in this world don't believe these atrocities are real and going on, all; are no more than [products of delusion on the part of us crippled mentally ill mother fuckers, OH YEAH, RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But what really is coming to mind right about now, with poor innocent whittle ol' me, after this fucking gargantuan monstrous despicable deplorable four fucking day chemtrail siege, and other siege on top of aerial, not to mention airplanes and stalking, is a television station in good old wonderful never-sleeping city of Manhattan, NYUSAESMWG. Along with this station, known by locals and many nearby 100 mile radius folks via cable television as Channel-11, and WPIX, is also a show, and a wonderful documentary; done by them in the year of mother fucking 1988, called; “UFO-THE COVER UP”. Agent Condor and Agent Falcon were two government dudes that were doing sort of a death bed confession, giving me my idea to make that' fake Florio future tape', and peeps, this is another well known parlor trick, by many Vegas Act Magicians. Parlor tricks get way more complex when things such as righteous goddesses tapes get named, more than a BRIPER of time before the writer of the song even knew or remembered a damn thing after the Doctor Rogers Nasal Spray Attack at my Raspberry Valley door, ten days or so later. This involves way more shit along the lines of the Star Trek-TNG-Q crap, and when ol' Cap Pick a Card uses the words “PARLOR TRICKS”, to “Q”, this is the level that shit such as this is on, make no cock sucking mistake about that lads, lassies, and Labrador Retrievers, YO. Some wonder, why I do not move on and appear as though I am stuck in a time loop, it was directly insinuated through the back door of course, right on Philadelphia television one night when the nightmare of Games Experts and soon to follow 'other geniuses' all took root and grew into this demonic experience. It is not me who won't move om, fuck you all for not believing me; as it is THEY, who simply WON'T LET ME move on, they have totally stopped me a very long time ago, literally freezing me in very real, and yes, appearing time loop, all though this is pure illusion as far as any physical time worm hole shit. Great parlor trick number 939.75, huh?

Look folks, there is no Chevy Chase drunken hater syndrome, yet there may as well be. There is no heat beam coming down from the sky, or death ray. This is what makes those that are picked on like me, get labeled fucking 'crazies', an expression I invented in 1986, and the Copyright Office knows it. None of the stuff like tin foil going up top protect you, is real, what is real, is that a MOGOSP PROGRAM in the 6th dimension of mind, is set up to do something, and with me, in the case example herein, it is or could easily be called, labeled, referred to as, etcetera, MARK MOHR DESTRUCT. Once this is all set up, shit just happens as it needs to, in order to keep all of the necessary things falling in line with the motive or the program that was set up. For those doubters of such an existing technology, you really have feeble minds, I am sorry to be the one to tell you, and I am telling you this online,. And gladly will meet with you face to face and say it, and go ahead and hit me if jail; is where you like being. I have cited this example over and over and over again. Go back 300 years and begin telling the peeps around you about I-Pods, and internet and jet travel and Global Positioning Satellites, and on and on, recreating reality with magnetic heads, silicon chips, and early versions of atomic lasers, in 2 and even 3 dimensions, with Blue Ray, and on and on. When things progress just a wee bit further, it is no big deal to scan back before somebody died, and recreate the image in as full 4-D reality. I AM THE RESSURECTION, bull shit, the great man of Galilee said, I have the laser retrace machine, but the translation is a perfect equal in truth and reality. My family, in less than 300 years did not complete or begin this 2300 year experiment, and it along with all other bull shit, cannot really begin, or end, it simply is, and in there lies the powerful shit that Dawn-Marie King knew a lot more than even I realized, while under her cruel vicious captivity, YO. Still, let us talk about the greatest television show of all time, “Law and Order”, and the episode where he is railing out hatred of the Jews, and how indeed [present day Hollywood is basically owned by them, and how they blacklist all their enemies. I know more believe that I am blacklisted physically here in three dimensions than I believe I just made love to my fucking great grand mother. Still, that old bell rings, right Detective Studderreale, BING, and it sure looks like this is the reality, but then it looks like I knew all about the future back in 1986, not just by shouting out the word “MI” before the 'Real Good Girl' song began, but right down to the 'crazies' 'liocked' away inside a padded room of woe, and mountains full of gold, and then the mind bending parlor trick, that there are no minors/miners around that are too old!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Houdini, should I ever let the real super shit out, old stomach punch dude???????????? The EW knows this is all totally fucking real/e, but they are so busy quivering and shivering along with LOIS FOCAV LOANE and old Soup, they just want me to vanish and disappear, yet with all of that and so much more, there still is a ton of other stuff beyond all this, and yet it indeed can be totally compresses, abridged, and folded up together into one neat nice little ol' package, but only if you will open up your mind to truth and reality, and not keep it boxed up and shut as tight as a freaking ass warped winter door at Elisa's Lakehouse.

I am not through with the “L&O” television show, or Chevy Mean-Mouth Chase, and in fact peeps, YO, I'm only starting, All Mighty and beyond lovely Goddess Sarah Jacobson of 1972. First off, Stiemetz, Callio, McGuire, Garrigan, McGinty, Karpf, King, McGettigan, Levy, and Allbright families of Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG; with roots stretching around the local states in all directions except east; only the 6th-dimension is real, and all of these things that seemingly are taking place all throughout this vast and inconceivably huge 5th dimensional hyperspace such as this universe and all of the other parallel ones as well, is a byproduct. It is like dummies and puppets, and their puppeteers, as only the string pullers or original thought-energies themselves that exist totally and only on this much higher realm of the 6th dimension, are real, and we are moving and thinking, only it is them, not really us at all. Like it or not, this is the powerful truth that a very few peeps came to see as a result of being very smart and then learning about the modern day PC and internet system, and yes, PP, your old girlfriend is still mad and one of my 1986 crazies, am I right or tell me sir, and country bumpkin ex-partner crook, am I right? Did you not tell me to my face that day and I quote you, while describing yourself, “I'm a nasty bastard”? Was that out of your mouth or am I maki9ng up a lie tonight here in the future, you miserable pile of crap?

Oh I totally fucking guarantee you all that the Billionaires Club, and the G-8-UN-System, 'think' that they are controlling this world, with the operative word here being “THINK”. Yes, we all think, WE are thinking, or doing, and being, and are just fucking ass puppets for 1-100 years in each set of our Astral Plane dream-Downs, or lifetimes, YO!!!!! Maybe the EW “THINKS” (Entertainment World), that THEY are doing all of this to me, and that is fine and well. But it is time tonight to offer up an interesting true proof here that will shake up the real thinkers of this twisted diseased little puny ass planet, YO.

Now this will be a hypothetical example, along with all made up names, yet all those who know what is being said, indeed are there, and reading this, and KNOW WHAT IS BEING FREAKING SAID, so there! The proof that I am being stopped will be in this “whittle ass falweetale called Elmer Wabbit Fwudd MOUNTAINPEN Illwastwates”. There is a man named Dodo-Jo who lived near the sand without any sweeping brooms, Senator Electra. It had been going on four years since he was contacted by a strange young girl. One day for no apparent reason, he began writing some really wild music that made no sense at the time but would as years and decades followed. This same girl contacted him again, only before it was in a dream, and this time, it was on the telephone. So one day, he called up the Walsh Telephone Company, and asked an employee how this person was able to call DODO-JO when the telephone line was not connected up to the outside world, and while they were working on his line. This employee, Miss Shovel, told poor DODO-JO it is not possible for anyone to call in while the line was off the system. Twenty-six years in the future however, they contacted the same person who was indeed able to pull this off somehow, and had her make a television commercial that poor DDJ could not miss the zingers on. In-between these years, she did many other things to poor old DDJ. She even managed to come into his dreams as well as waking life on one occasion while he was 100 miles from home one night with a pal of his. She seems to have an incredible affinity with electronics and electrical energy, and can pull off unfathomable miracles. A decade or a just a tad bit after they met in person, she sent him another wild dream, and sang another song to him, as she had done 27 years earlier. She had fooled him cleverly into believing that more than one person was involved when all the time, it was only her. In the dream, another part of her had become a world famous recording artist with plat albums out every single year. In this dream, she had one of these albums include an additional song, and she sang it so beautifully, that it is just absolutely indescribable. 14 years passed after this, and he decided to post this song up, redone only as far as some minor alteration in lyrical content so as to reflect a male singer instead of a female one. The job was done by an advanced machine and program, and was totally machine generated and digitally created. Not one part of the composition was inaccurate or imperfect, the voice was sampled by an unknown program except for a special dozen peeps that know of it on major-geeks dot com, and without knowing how to download it through a code that they provide, would cost 20 grand or more and be way out of DDJ's budget. The machine sang it pitch-perfect within less than half of one cent off any note in the entire composition. The same thing applied to the timing, and it all was within one tenth of one percent accurate on a 32nd-note timed ticker. The machine generated a great arrangement, and at the end, it was given very professional sound EFX. After posting the song on the world wide kindershet at a site where peeps post music, called the Blue-Move, only 25 peeps viewed it, and no one made one comment. Now wrapping up this fairytale, Miss UMWELL, I was told by many local peeps that they could never access the site when they tried to look at it. It was totally hacked out, and produced the illusion that it was real and accessible, and only to the computer that posted it up, a studio owned here in South Florida by one of Ron HonZovi's first cousins. My computer was able to get to it once in a while, most of the time it was basically hacked out. DDJ knows without a doubt, that this really was a mega hit record of this girl, in an altered reality. So if things are not all being messed with, why did I get 25 views and nothing, while two years ago, some lady over in Pinkland across the sea was an internet celebrity overnight? DDJ totally knows what the reality is, but as a friend of his told him who worked at a Camden County Law enforcement Office throughout the nineties, knowing it is one thing, proving it is a totally other deal, and he is 100% on the $$$$$. In any event, ol' DDJ removed that along with another uploaded work to the site. Hackers accomplished their mission, verifying that nothing is ever available anywhere, for poor DDJ to ever do, as HE WILL BE ETERNALLY STOPPED AND PREVENTED; and no logical explanation can be rationalized on this “fairytale” of truth, as this WAS a powerful hit song. He can never prove this in physical reality, but 'HE KNOWS WHAT HE KNOWS', with or without the mysterious existence of one Dawn-Marie King of Hammonton, New Jersey. Through it all however, is the one constant that the 6th dimension endlessly reveals to any viewers who all ready are indeed convinced of things, and that is that we are all inside what may as well be thought of as a huge arcade and video game, and are no more than puppets and PacMan blobs. But things are only beginning to freaking heat up now folks, so listen up YO!

I was on that good old site, called Fairytale Blue Move a couple of days ago, and reading some comments left on other poster's sites. The subject was CHEMTRAILS, and many sites are posted up here. I loved the commenter who said to one of the posters, we should stop calling ourselves conspiracy-theorists, we really should start a movement and call ourselves what we really are, TRUTH PATRIOTS, this is someone else's quote, and my paraphrase, and I love it, you go, whoever the fuck you are, you rock, BRAHHHHHH. Now, another comment seemed to appear down below and it caught my eye, seemingly by magic. The post was not just made, but it seemed to be a parlor trick, and it got my heart pounding to the point that I wanted to report the threat to the Blue Move authorities, but with all my hacking, it would have been a total waste of my time and I knew it. It read and I quote almost directly if not directly, “4 all you people talking about CHEMTRAILS, we know where you live”. I use my blogs as therapy and I say some wild shit, but I would never dream of making such a threat on anyone else's post or upload or blog or page or whatever. I think this 'SHOULD BE INVESTIGATED', still, it could always have been done by the poster; just to fake out the severity of the subject and without knowing it, sabotage the real effort to stop this horrendous sky poisoning. Still, I hope this site looks into this, if it reads these words. I left my residence a half hour later and arrived at the local TD Bank, where I have a checking account. When I got back into my automobile after getting an ATM balance; I told you all what happened to me, and I have had several nasty fucking nightmares since this, so this is a dangerous person, whoever posted this fucking shit, VERY FUCKING DANGEROUS, AND IS A THREAT TO CIVIL LIBERTIES. Where are you tonight, old ex-ex-ex landlord, Agent Steve Caruso, FBI?

Yes peeps, I indeed go through this fucking seasonal siege and death assault on an annual non-missed basis, it is every year, right around early through middle June, and for the gods only fucking know what reason and why they pick on me so much at this precise time, but it was real even back in the lousy fucking late eighties, it is bad in both May and June, and even if the Flyers are playing, or out of the race, either way it goes fucking on, so it is more than just fucking HOCKEY, Mister Fonda!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “FTS”. Tellem Jane Clocks.

When I had this event gfo down, and also all throughout this fucking M/T/W/T 4-day fucking aerial siege of wall to wall fucking chemical poisoning and trailing, YO, I also have had the totally predictable major hyper ass off the meters and scales, PC also known Sir Prince as PUSSY-COMMAND, YO. Whenever sky siege goes on and on, even if in real time it is only day one of it, the siege matches the PC, and it is ridiculous and fucking major. Why would an old dude almost fucking sixty years old, fat, short, ugly, and a nobody wit nothing to offer, be mobbed and swamped by young gorgeous exciting pussy? I am talking MAJOR ASS FLIRTATION here, and not nit-shit, BRO.

You don't mother fucking seriously cunt eating think ass hole WOMO enemies, that I will give you my life, do you? Sheeeeeeeeeeeeit. You wanna' fucking kill and murder me ya' bitches, you're gonna have to risk a lot more and come out of the woodwork a lot more than this, ya' fucking miserable jack off scum bag toilet water lappers.

MAGNESONIC, MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, I NEED YOUR FUCKING HELP, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Elder Hair is a twin, the dude from the Mormon Church in Utah, to Mister Goldstein and the Dowd on TNG Star Trek. I knew I was repressing a major American Express memory. But that is not the half of it. I have been repressing the memories of hundreds of powerful dreaming-interactions, and came to realize this in one huge boom just today. I'll get fucking into this shit at a later time, it is late and I'm hungry and tired. I am sorry you are angry with me All Mighty Scylla, all I remember is you telling me this last night in your great city filled with Shaniah Ripoff Lights. Yes I know the whole story about Kevin Willis and his thugs, I am not holding any grudges, you are one mystery after another to me, as I thought you believed in 'Thou Shalt Not Take' what doesn't belong to us, so far, I'm missing one cassette, and Kate's song. I am not here to gather up anything, it is nothing but a bunch of particles and waves and parlor trick illusions, you seem to have forgotten, and we both know why, so keep forgetting, and enjoy what you created, and thank you for taking the memory away while I am with you in Sahasra Dal Kanwal, this must be a horrific burden for you to carry, with any amount of R's. Still, you must know, that 'HE' knows and remembers, so does Sherry Lee Pote, BEG. IWALU. I am so sorry for all of this hell. If you ever look up any of my family from your birth place in the 20th century, tell them not to ever contact me, they can all burn up. Also, the only terrific source is for matters of lineage, ion case this ever helps you brown-eyes, is Mister Goldstein. I do not know if he is alive, but they are either twins which your family relates to quite well, or I am monkey's uncle. Oh, if your mother ever runs into Fred at the Met, please have him call me. BYE-BYE.

END TRANSMISSION: Archie Bunker says it so well, “Good night nurse”.