SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 168

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 168
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
SEND-BACK-TEXT DATE AND TIME FILE:
CH-168-061211.078
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
4TH SUBTITLE: “I EFFECT, I EXIST, I KNOW WHO I AM”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2011

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

There has now been a 6th straight day in this “CHEMTRAIL--- WE KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE”, THREAT ASSAULT DEATH SIEGE. It's not real bad, but it is most definitely making its presence and is indeed there.

Yesterday, Saturday, in the late afternoon, I went over to the South Beach of Fort Pierce, on Hutchinson Island; for a swim in the freaking ocean. No bothersome aerial vehicles were ar4ound, but trailing was indeed going on for a 6th straight day, and of course they know where we all live, Reagan fixed it so we are now born with a social security number, and soon, we will not leave the hospital without a tiny chip deep within our body. I don't care, as I do not do anything that is against the law. I have done plenty of things that I am not real super proud of, but I was set up, just as I have been set up to fail, no matter what I do, or how well it is done, I have recently freaking proven that to my total ass satisfaction. Young girls flirt with me quite a lot during these sky sieges, of course, I just totally ignore them, I have way more important things to do, and I do not want to go to jail, either. This is not a free country, and I learned to adjust to that after the eighties died along with the McGuire Fire of Chicago.

From now on, most if not all of my blogs will contain what I'll now call, the 'reminder sentence', or the (RS). This being, that if read from anywhere, any point or place, on any randomly chosen blog; and gone in either direction, backward or forward in time, readers will not be able to help realizing two very obvious things. One, is that there is a real major-ass thing, that is happening to me, and two, is that not only does the MOUNTAINPEN-BLOG, in its entirety, tell its own indisputable and factual story; but it reveals as well, the absolutely unmistakable reality of powers that are discussed in the great HOLY BILBLE, are not only real; but are directly involved with all of this, and me, and quite simply and honestly put folks, it's not arguable, because I have an irrefutable true story. This story is filled with facts of injustices and nightmares, as well as proofs of dangers that most definitely are surrounding all of us; as after-all, when I am gone soon; and I am old and will not be around forever; then common sense dictates that THEY are gong to have to find lots of other people to take my place, in order to give their warped minds and souls, something to relentlessly freaking torment and torture day and night, 24/7/365.2422.

First off, I told everything that I thought at the time when starting the Morianity Project, beginning with the internet updated version of the Old Testament of the 'Morianity Bible', as as soon as things began being said, reality continued doing what it always seems to do around me, and this being, to continue altering as a result of the mere telling. Now Quantum Physicists all have various names for this phenomenon, as well as basic theories to explain it within the currently known limits and boundaries in the various atomic, subatomic, and wave/particle sciences. Rog gave me two fascinating books, and I blogged their titles in 2008 sometime late in the year, or perhaps early in the OH-MAROLA-9 year. Things start to blur after millions of hellish nightmares, on both sides of the freaking bed. These books from the late eighties tell me that another parlor trick exists within all of this, and my own father used to tell me about this same thing many years ago. These heavy and fascinating books reveal the entire future. Hence, books have to exist someplace today, showing the next couple of decades. I do not mean stuff like Nostradamus and his so called ability to see into the future, merely that common sense dictates that the military systems of the planet must remain one or two decades ahead of their civilian populations, in order to survive in this DWOON. This pronounceable abbreviation stands for, with a little Daniels humor thrown in, (DANGEROUS WORLD OF OLIVER NORTH), so let's not pop any bags to close to the dude, no sense being responsible for his heart attack. YES PEEPS, WITH, OR WITHOUT, THE PATHETIC OLD MOUNTAINPENN; this is, always was; and will most definitely always remain, a very freaking DWOON. But huge illusions and parlor tricks are somehow all built into not only the reality of the DWOON SYNDROME, but in all of our perceptions to it. Now (QMT) states that our perceptions and observations are actually what first is creating what we believe to be observing and perceiving in the first place, hence, (Quantum Mechanics Theory), and this is the foundation and small crack opening in taking Einstein's SPACE-TIME relativity into SPACE-TIME-MIND reality. But if you 'think' for one single solitary second folks, that these world owners, or the WOMO, are ignorant to this truth, you are the now the official winners of the Naivety Club of Earth. You heard of the television show called “NCIS, and now we can throw in the NCOE, with or without any flash-mobs at the TD, only back then, Commerce Bank of Hammonton, NJUSAESMWG, four or five years ago, when big gorgeous Jess was throwing her football around, and I was doing my tattle tailing. Lucky for me Patty did not want me at Rikers, huh? Rats don't always make it to their first shower in there, BRO. Naturally, I would adapt, and shut the hell up all the time. Don't send me any text messages John Johnson, and if you run into poor old Joe Paget, tell him I need his frequency number. Yes, if I knew why he was so receptive in his personal and unique 6th dimensional receiver wavelength, I might be able to adapt the wordage mechanics in my blogs, and really finally get my message out to the conscious collective of the human race, the unconscious collective knows the sun total exact thing that I do, but are consciously blocking it out to protect and maintain their sanity, like DUH and color me MINE and Briscoe impressed.

Scylla told me last night that I made her very angry, she won't tell me the details, only that I should have kept trying to get the right peeps over here to work through my computer hack, as I am always getting short ends of life's stick as a result of this evil empire winning over me illegally and violating my rights as a free United States citizen, to be on the internet, and use it legally. The first fucking hack I will get taken off is the BUT-ODF HACK. Read the blogs, I cannot catch all the fucking times that instead if reading in small case the two letter word, (of), it comes freaking ass out instead as capitol (ODF). This is the name of a word processing document file. There is ODF and PDF, I know this much and I'm just a fucking ass computer dummy. Still, every time I try to do anything with anybody, something stops it, EVERY SINGLE TIME. I had a great friend in Ann King, and boom, look how Scylla did all the stuff after the oh-eight year ran around. It took the death of distant-cuz Dawn-Marie to let me escape this, and become friends again with her. As for getting someone over here to look at the computer, it is harder for me to do a simple thing like this, that it is for most of you to lose your job, be flat broke, and then purchase a nice home the next week. You do not have to believe me, I know I'm being straight and so does fucking GOD, top use forward mortal lingo that is relate-able here with my readers, so does GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Morianity has only one pesky lie that comes back to haunt me, all other shit is 100% totally truth, and that lie was told to literally save my sanity back early in 1997 as a result of a hell I was going through the precious year that is simply not speakable, in my unfathomable quest and search to locate the missing elusive teenager of my life, SARAH-STACEY KRASSLE.

As for the year of 1983, and the Mertsock family of Cherry Hill, New Jersey, USAESMWG teachers, the PRIVECODE MACHINE, invented by the International Mobile Machines Corporation, and my 1983 death-illness, and all the other stuff that hellfire damnation is made from, a child can put together, and did, and helped me, to see that GG obviously held one or more patents that went into this machine. Only a small following of peeps used this cool machine in 1983, and in no time, it seemed to be like many other things in m,y strange outlandish personal universe of mysteries, the great 'VANISHERS' were called in, as Sally and billy and crooked ex-partner Paul Evans Pedersen of Studio Park Records, must have also called these peeps. They made me totally disappear just like I never was there at all. Only my Copyrighted book from 1994 is the proof that they did in fact fuck me and hur4t me, and in the case of Paul Pedersen, rip me off major and steal not only 40 grand of my money, but also the name of Studio Park Records, from me, my book vindicates me. The mighty TAWF managed to separate me from all of my other great evidence, the best being all of my journal cassette tapes. When I had the Atlantic City electric Company peeps over to my rented home on Route 561 in Gibbsboro, New Jersey, USAESMWG, in the early nineteen-nineties, the lineman specialist told me, that this machine generated more dangerous radio frequency radiation than all of the combined other systems in the entire house, and more than if I lived in a tent directly under high transmission lines. Gawky knew exactly what he was doing, so did this entire wonderful family. I do not hold my lovely Scylla responsible, I hope hope and pray, literally, that she can see all that her wonderful peeps have put me through, and not hate or blame me too much for that night in August of 1986 in the city that never sleeps. She has had total hold over me ever since she was thirteen years old. Still, I love her, because I always have, for vigintillions of spell-checker-ignorant years. Thousand (000), Million (000,000), billion (000,000,000), trillion (000,000,000,000), quadrillion (000,000,000,000,000), and keep adding a group of three digits with each new word, you dumbed down computer world, quintillion, sextillion, septillion, octillion, nonillion, decillion, unodecillion, duodecillion, tredecillion, quatorodecvillion, quindecillion, sextodecillion, septemdecillion, octodecillion, novemdecillion, VIGITILLION. It is lots easier to say one times ten to the 63rd [power, rather than one vigintillion, and also, these numbers have no Earthly use, they are too large to be of significance. Still, they exist, and are indeed in all of the good old encyclopedias and the good old college dictionaries of the early and middle twentieth century. Yes my Scylla, I remember what you said in your great city of lights, SDK, and this is obviously why they had to go to the Earthly counterpart Krassleville that day. Maybe they were not such real good boys either, as there, SR is 13, no matter how many New York City television detectives hate hearing that. Yes, Scylla, you were most definitely mi mountain full of gold that night. I was struck by the same thing that Ed and I were hit with on Tennessee Avenue in October of 2006, by your totally evil distant cousin RMG. We developed the film and disc and put it up on the Morianity-Foundation website, and yet to this day, our conscious memories are wiped clean of the event when your cousin hurt us on that public street, as innocent tourists taking photographs. Yeah, he sure looks after your family, and hastes most of his peeps, and I am quite sure Scylla, he hates himself too. Living with secrets, sucks, so this is why I need you to do a song someday, and tell me what if anything you remember about that night so long ago. Then my advice to you is not school, as that was then, but now, it is to contact your cousin McGuire; and insist that he tell you if he has the same 'strobing-flashlight or whatever', in his pocket, that you were showing to me that day in your house in 1975. As long as he and his peeps down there in ACNJUSAESMWG have access to so much power, they are very dangerous. I am not saying these things to you as one of your biggest fans, but as someone who will always care about you in a special way.

You obviously got my message, as the machine went a little crazy as I was typing this, and I checked, and sure enough it seems I'm back again with this computer number matching an address on 36th Avenue in San Mateo in California, USAESMWG, and my computer clock has also been reset to Pacific Time, so let me repair this. No sweat, all back the way it should be, but yes, contact your cousin Robert McGuire, MC, it is important that you realize that he may have also blocked out your memories, this is not only my life, it is your life too, and he does not care one bit that you are the greatest artist on this planet, those things mean absolutely nothing to that big Irish bully. Ten to one, you mom knows about her fathers cousins that trace into the marriages into Pennsylvania, start here if you want to play with this, and call up 'Elder (Goldstein) Hair' in Utah, and tell him that I have sent you to him. Also, Bob McGuire has a 50% interest in the Irish Pub of Atlantic City, on Saint James Place, so check this all out when you get time, brown eyes, this is your life this prick is playing with, and not just mine. Also, don't waste your time on ancestry dot com, go to Hair. He will tell you all sorts of stuff you have wanted to know. I blew Frank Callio's mind in 1997 when I gave him a report, a life changing event for him I think, this is another distant cousins of yours, BEG.

In wrapping up, I know enough now to have a greater respect than I ever used to have for the mind realm or the sixth dimension. Speaking about my old ex-partner PP, who is lying his fat ass off about inventing Studio Park Records, but he can keep his fantasy, as my lawyers are standing by here in Florida for the day he cashes in big, and then he will be going into court with me faster than McCoy and the joy-juice flies, but he told me once back while I was renting a mansion owned by a dude named Guthrie Short in Blue Anchor, UJUSAESMWG in the last couple years of the nineties when the Braxton sisters were harassing me on the phone, and psychic Paula Uwich, proved herself right on many things that she told me, crooked or not YO; but aniwho, Paul said to me, “Mark, you are just playing your Morianity to the roaches”. What he meant was that an off hook land-line telephone is dead and only goes out into the walls and not even up to the pole. This is not true, because during a close lightning strike, a loud click is always heard on the line, and this would not happen if this great predictor whose accuracy was around 3% on his best year, and this has been told and blogged before on numerous occasions, but no, this wouldn't freaking happen if he knew his electronics from beer cans, dudes and duddesses. Still, now that I have both my land-line and the Comcast, and both have unlimited calling plans within USA borders, I can bypass now, so soon, when I play stuff to the unconscious collective of all humanity, it will be on a phone that really covers distance in the outside world. I can use one to call the other, so roaches be damned, lightning clicks or no damn strobe-light clicks, huh SSJKK and Robert McGuire, YO!!!!!!! Very soon, things will begin to really go topsy-turvy. It may take a while, but if the FISA peeps and others in WOMO weren't so scared of my knowledge and my mother fucking technology, they would not be breaking into my place, damaging my property, examining my personal telephone books,and getting their minds blown and locking their 601 Lenny-Gates, huh United States Copyrights Examiners???????????? So go and choke on that one, nurse Coo coo bird!!!!!

CHEMTRAIL************CHEMTRAIL**********CHEMTRAIL*********
CHEMTRAIL*******CHEMTRAIL**********CHEMTRAIL, what are you gonna' do about it, butt wipe??????? Keep messing with me, but remember shit head, Dawn thought she was so powerful, she could pick up 400 pound furniture and sail it around rooms, but now as the 1983 song goes, ~~~~~~. Yes I had a friend, his name was Len, and right now, it is ten minutes shy of 4 in the more, so let me crash like the plane with the Scotland couple, and yes, in Table Throw Unthinkable County, Florida, WOPW, still wanna' take me on Civil Rights hater??????????????????????? BYE-BYE, CHALL, Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

END TRWANSMISSION, WABBIT, WHAAAAAAAAAAA. That's all peeps.