SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0210

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0210
KING NEBNOOSHOO
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
SUBTITLE 4: “AWAKENED TO DEATH SIEGE BY DIRT SCUM”
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2297
SBT-DATFILE: CH-0210-081211.043
COPYRIGHTED BLOG © OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

I POSTED UP MY LAST BLOG AND WENT TO BED. I WAS AWAKENED TO A MOTHER FUCKING FIRE ALARM, 2 MINUTES SHY OF THE MOTHER FUCKING OPENING BELL ON WALL STREET IN NEW YORK, NEW YORK, SO I AM POSITIVE THAT THEY WILL GET ANOTHER SUGER BANG UP BULLISH DAY ON THWEIR CROOKED DISEASED STOCK MARKET. ON TOP OF THAT, THEY WOKE ME UP TO A MONSTROUS MOTHER FUCKING SORE THROAT. MAYBE I WILL NEED TO GO TO THE ACADEMY ROAD EXIT OFF OF INTERSTATE-95, AFTER BEAMING BOTH MY CAR THERE AND BEFORE DOING THAT, BEAMING IT OVER TO 5133 OAKLAND STREET, ALL IN EARLY 1988 OF COURSE, AND ALL WITH PERMISSION OF COURSE, OF THE GREAT COPYRIGHT EXAMINERS DOWN IN WASHINGTON----***13***----DC, WHERE THE STATUTORY AGE OF FEMALE SEXUAL CONSENT IS QUITE YOUNG, AND A WELL GUARDED SECRET, THAT MANY KNOWLEDGABLE PEEPS ARE TOTALLY UNAWARE OF.

Yes my poor lymph notes and glands tend to get calcified and inflamed, when the MOVERS use their great STROBE-LIGHT for so many mother fucking evil demonic purposes. This is because they fuck me up with horrible CHEMTRAILS, so that my body then needs to try and fight off infection, and many other symptoms listed on certain many magical time tapes. Yes, yes, there are lots of powerful things going on, far beyond all the 'powerful stuff' we can ever hope to view on our television sets, my friends out here in 49 states, and also of course, Missouri, and the rest of the world, including Alaskan and Hawaii. My mom, wrote to a man in 1986, begging for his help. His name was Chuck Colson, the great born-again-Christian who placed 'GOD' above worldly things and 'stuff'. He was the 'HATCHET MAN' for our great President, Richard Nixon, famous for many great things, unfortunately also for the break in of the Democratic Office Building in 13-WDC, or the WATERGATE BUILDING.

657 and 123, nineteen years have come and gone, I thought I knew most everything, and far beyond my heart's control, were four powerful things, these being, codes we shared so secretly, and all that's left is our sweet song, until you showed me the songs we'd sing, and last but by no means least; broken dreams dance rock and roll, and yes, all this wild bullshit was more than 28 years ago, black, even, high, and Roulette games, and I was down in Atlantic City many days in 1983, playing this great game in our wonderful casinos, in a city that is more special on this planet than almost any other, akin perhaps only to Nazareth in Jerusalem, and Huntington, New York, but then, I am not allowed to tell any more shit about any of this, on PAIN OF GRIFFIN PIPE DEATH, right Callio Callisurdo????????

Many movers came to me and talked to me, while others simply played and messed with me. The greatest one of all was in the summer time in the year of 1974, over at the greatest rooming-house on the planet, on Stenton Place, in Atlantic City, where the great Tropicana Casino came to stand not that long after all of this other shit was born into the cosmos. This great MOVER remains nameless, and I literally watched him vanish, and he came out of nowhere as well. He did not to another space, but into another time. He left right after telling me that Jimmy Hoffa's body is behind a secret panel in the deep basement or someplace in the mighty hotel on Tennessee Avenue, called the Pittsburgh, owned by who else, but the mighty ass hole jerk off white slave king of the 20th century, along with his mob boss pal of Chicago-fire, Illinois, ROBERT MCGUIRE, YO. By the way the owner of the rooming-house was an extremely beautiful breathtaking lady by the name of Selena Dada. Before I ever introduced my father to the great Frank Lombardo and other Philly Crime boss families, who all became very good friends and hated me for not respecting my father enough by warning Frank to keep his hands in his pockets when my Dad was around, wow, my dad, my kid, I am rapidly running out of safe-hands, but then, if I had kept the tape, the entire world might be quite a bit different right now, and possibly short one fantastic musical artist, so we will leave all that where it is, as opposed to MOVING anything around.

Happy trails and happy trading. Amy's mom wanted her daughter and me to become an item. Paula didn't even let me know I had a daughter, and kept her from me an entire lifetime. How fair is the world, Copyrighted Yellow-sheets? STILL, ARE 780 CODES BEHIND ALL OF THIS? Is the Sarah Karge (KRASSLE) Waltz of 111 years ago, why this PITSY FONDA year; is not working out the way it should according to the mother fucking mathematical schedule of 1969-1980-1994-2011? As I speak, my THIRD mother fucking ANGEL OD DEATH attack is striking me at 1:33 PM on my left (WHAT's WRONG) © side, and last night, I was steruck by two Morty Mortino dirt bag attacks on my (WHAT'S WRONG) © right side, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No normal human has any clue what is being said, only the EW, MOVERS, and top secret US Government branches, who must wonder why now just why my fellow MO)VERS left me here alone and stranded, powerless, and on my Brook Shields own and grown, to fight this shit by my patheitc poor little fucking ass self. Not even a roll of troilet paper for all of their strobe-light beam attacks, what do you do when you are stranded like this, and in this condition? Should I ask the gtreat Mariah Carey to sing one of my very favorite songs she srote and sang, to me, today, called “HERO” or just sample it off of the tape and listen all day to it. Or should I just accept being branded, stranded, and sitting back watching the old black and white tee-vee, while all the while being able to descern with perfect crystal clarity, how the MOVERS cleverly wiped out my credibility forever, and using the great disco diva to do it, so that now, old Nick can gather his great flock together, and do exactly what Donna warned me would happen, when like a total fool and dummy, I then turned around and accused her of being the bad-girl. I learned in times since this, that even the really good girls, can still fall in love, and those with daddy-issues tend to pick the wildest of them all, leaving me to know and never show, so it is back to school for me, not her, and if this is not the epitome of ironies, I would sell the great Nicky, my very beingness, for the great privilege of knowing, just what the heck is? ANOTHER LEFT SIDE DEATH-ANGEL-ATTACK IS STRIKING ME NOW AT 41 MINUTES PAST ONE OF THE CLOCK. Wow is Nick pissed off at me today. 2-BAD, road-man, Paul says the {Phillies are doing it again in oh-eleven, only we know differently, we know the west coast brings it on this year, huh fellow? You know I suppose, that your wife is insisting that I do three things. Ask her next time you get a spare 20th and put it into the machine, old hammer swinger kid from 1996. By the way dude, if you stole the stuff that night at the ice cream place, you played right into my hands with your friend Doctor Margret Summer of the institute. I always knew she was from the Lab, and not born in my century. She knew too much about me way before I did, kind of like you did in 1996, you son of a Midge.

In closing out, just as mysteriously as my agonizing sore throat came on me, it vanished away. No time for any lethargy, only blogging, but what was blogging in late 1983, I don't know, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Can't admit to a thousand a week either, you know, IRS, and other things. Only trouble is, Richard Karpf of New Jersey started lots of street talk, and this was 17 years before any flash-mobs ever got started, or blogs, or endless repeats of high school loops and horror show days, Beetlejuices all notwithstanding of course, so let me PRESS ON, MISS LEE. MI, I tried my best to tell you to get away from the chemtrails of that rotten city, and you were too busy chasing your kitty cat. I love you, you do not have to chase me or tell me I cannot escape. I am always right here for you, my account is open again, and I have numbers, but I do not want Mister Hammers to hub cap me again. It seems only MOVING and properly fitting, that in the early seventies, the two largest banking institutions on this planet were Chase, and Chemical National. You chase me, and Chemicals came close to doing a Tower of Babylon on both of us, wow, is this really a grouping of crazy words, or are some mountains really full of gold and special minors? I will not ever try giving away great Fascitar secrets, let alone other ten dollar gifts, for free. I do not enjoy Robert McGuire, destroying my property, or burning and torching other stick-stuff. You have one very dangerous distant cousin, MC, but you know this and I am not longer in any position to offer up advice, still I am very proud of you, and happy that you did in fact finish up at the fields, and I saw you at your 20th reunion there, as you know, they televised in in the summer of oh-eight. As always, you are the most beautiful girl in the entire place. Of course, your great family made me lose all of my most precious possessions, this video tape being amongst these items, oh well, great SSJJK, you are inside of me, always, that cannot be taken from me, not even by your mighty cousin of fire. You know, he broke the heart of one of your own peeps of yesteryear, poor little Janis. You are nothing at all like your cousins, and I am so very proud of you MI.

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