SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 181

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 181
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY

START:

TOLD YOU GINA, when enemies make my life a total hell, the DOW JONES WILL FLY, just as it has all this freaking week, YES BABY, I TOLD YOU, YOU LOVELY ARM BREAKER, YOU!!!!!! The market is totally flying, and I predict a full evil empire today. Things are very mother fucking bad.

My mom died with a horrible secret, and I hate her fucking guts for it, it haunts me daily, and will go on until my grave can claim me. Central Pier loudspeaker systems would come in handy at my grave site, back in the days that I invaded 10-SC Avenue, huh John and Photeous, “HURRY-HURRY-HURRY”, Oh yeah, right. Where are you when I need you, Jack Palance, me ol' boxing chum? Spell wrecker, your ignorance amazes me. Where is the MOGOSP? Where is the goggle television, fuck these stupid ass money grubbing large screens, I'd much rather have full eye brain view? Where is the virtual life game, so at least we can all get lost away from reality and the problems of daily hell that the 99% poor amongst us, face and struggle through? You've sold us out and let us down, Mister Gates. And then there is the 2005 Callio cartoon, huh Chester Perkowski, whose life was forever altered by running an Atlantic city hotel back in the fucking nineteen-nineties. There also is the transdimensional trunk device, both the large in-mount, as well as the small mini-carry around model, huh Robert Asshole McGuire? You have caused a lot of grief to millions of people around this world, you big bastard Irish bully, you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “LET'S SEE SOME ID”. sheeeeeeeeeeeeeit, if I could do February of 1997 over, I would begin with burying you, you cock sucking piece of crap. Mischief-man with secrets, hurting your own family, you rotten worthless shit pile. Secrets are a bad thing to keep and carry around Bobby boy, but in your case, quite necessary. Someday, the entire MWG will know of you, and not just ACNJUSAESMWG.

No matter what I try and plan or do, they are always steps and moves ahead of me. I am desperately trying to reach you, Ryan, are you on freaking vacation, or mad at me for taking the shit off of the UT, or what? Why won't you return my calls, forcing me to drive a long way and waste a lot of gas to run into either you or Mister BonJovi. Monyana, no not Montana, spell wrecker. I have errands to do anyway, so what the fuck. I'd sell my fucking soul to the proverbial devil to be able to operate all these machines so I could record shit myself, as no one does things anyway, exactly the way I would, and I know what I want, and never can get it done the way I truly want. A child of course knows why, it is not some huge ass equation. Still, the mighty and mysterious philosophical Mister Roth, made me realize in a huge way many years ago; that the 'Zatman Music Store Broken Cadillac Syndrome' (ZMSBCS), is very real, and totally powerful; despite nobody believing either one of us. Here is a man with huge powerful friends, peeps who the Stones looked up to like Chris Farlowe from England, ask future Queen Kate or Bobbie Plant, they'll tell you this is truth, I have no need to fucking bullshit about one damn thing Admiral Whalespock.

As long as these cock sucking puke regurgitation systems can stop me from my life, literally, the Dow Jones will fly, the Flyers will kick ass, and my poor old Phillies will lose. This does not mean this pattern is perfect, and only works in very long run play averages. Still, what really happened with the Real-Good_Girl open reel master tape at the beginning, in August of 1986, and what really happened when NC took me into the future by 5 weeks or so and showed me the outcome of the 2008 World Series, hay world, don't believe me, believe the mighty GOOGLE, this can't be faked, just go to www.blogger.com/ and archive the October 5, 2008 blog of MOUNTAINPEN, and in time, everyone will see, no matter how they try and deny it and poo-poo it all, that nothing here is made up, phony, or fake. My mom took a horrible secret to her miserable ass grave, she always said shit to me all throughout the eighties and nineties when I did or said something that she did not approve of, “How would you like it if your daughter did this, or said this”? She was relentless about doing this, and never said, “your son”, no folks; only my daughter, yeah, MI DAUGHTER! TAKE ONE.

657 and 123, codes we shared so secretly, but then something came along called, FINASLLY I'M FREE, right Clariton Ripoff Clear. NOTHIONG GOES BY ME, or does it.

My good friend who I owe a super ass apology to, for many bad things that I said online about, and then came to learn that I was being a total prick and a total jerk off cubed, a mother fucker, and a dick head duosh wad, and so much more, but yes, MISTER PP of SPR, this great songwriter and fine gentleman has been screwed by life every bit as much as I have, and this our business, not the world's business, but let me just say this right now. We know that peeps are damn right jealous of us, and this can cause many horrific and atrocious things to be done to innocent peeps, right down to turning partners against each other, and in hindsight, I now know this was one person's goal. My partner may not agree, or he may, but I know deep down in my heart, that absolutely nothing ever just happens, it all interfuckingconnects. Separateness and individuality is a huge strobe-light illusion. In truth, all is oneness at zero dimension, or the void infinity, EWI,m or Existence Without Interaction, huh Mister NYC mayor Billionaire??????????????????????? Finally I'm free huh, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't make me laugh so hard that I crap in my damn drawers folks, please!!!!

Peeps can think I am a dumb stupid retarded fool crazy person all they want to, but really powerful mother fuckers on Planet-Earth, know the truth about freaking me.

Still, my memories have been tampered with huge time, and I have come to realize just how much the all mighty Jewelly Nurockey White has indeed strobe-light hypnofucked me, once in 1968 when I was 13.6 years old up on Long Island, and then in my 'sleep' whenever she feels like it. Death angels are major and continuous. Jane Bitchweeds is also on a super nasty fucking hell roll lately. Things are every fucking putrid ass bad for me, YO. But I have a lot of lost fucking memories, and something tells me, so do both my damn daughters.

Let me sign off now, and see how a man who says that psychic shit is bullshit; the great Mister Jane, Games-Expert, on the waking television world, will give me tonight's message, meant only for me of course, and without ever even knowing that Mountainpuke lives on this miserable planet, some super accomplishment. Yeah, only this is done all the time, just as the New Age Father, mister Castaneda knows about only too well, with or without selling stock, or Estine. Selling and buying, the biblical permission to exist in these trying times of ours, wow, does this mighty book talk about Wall Street or not? It may be coded up a bit, but not too coded for me to crack, mother fuckers, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Here is my prophesy, Carlos old pal. The Dow will fly up tomorrow another 200, be up 600 on the week, and in July go up 1000 and be at 15,000 points by autumn, just fucking watch and see everybody, YO. Keep me down and fucked and in miserable torment, torture, and hell, and it has but one way to go, and I proved how real ICPE and parallel-event is in 1986 by cracking the game of Roulette in the New Jersey casinos, something the mighty Einstein said cannot be done without cheating, and I did not fucking cheat, BRO.

I am MAGNESONIC. I came here, I influenced myself to exist, and only the great hockey stick lady could have known about me in 1983, no one else is MINI-GREAT VIQUEEN, JEWELLY, right Speed Ship Sunram 370 Hypnotized Lenny????????????????????

Give me a fucking break world, this is not ranting, it is the most powerful truth since Nostradamus walked this dusty path called Earth, BRAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

END TRANSMISSION, YO.