SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0220

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0221
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
START OF BLOG:

It is so nice, that the gods in their infinite wisdom, have seen fit to provide me, throughout all the nightmare of the past 25+ horrendous years, with one great friend, Ann King Silva. Basically, the way I feel right now, everyone else on this sick and diseased little planet, can drop right off of the edge of forever, and all I'll do is celebrate. Well, really, Clyde Linton Kline can celebrate. This is my name. Mark Mohr, Michael Mountainpen, and other aliases used on these six years of blogging, are not real. What is real, is that on blog number 0221, now I reveal my true name, finally; call me Fat Clyde, for short. Now this may have the same negative initials of a now retired sergeant at a famous resort city in America called Plesantica, in New Jersey, not all that far from an inland town known as Pennington, where I once had a small business in the nineteen-nineties, that were known about by Astral-Plane forces; the main ones being Dollie Black and Helena Felicia Kessle. Somehow, the County Prosecutor, and his team; knew about these folks, as they steered Clyde every way, except towards the truth when he begged them for their help; some time ago late in the past century. OH, AND THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME KNOW WHAT I SHOULD HAVE ALL READY KNOWN, BUT WAS WAY TOO STUPID, ZACK AMK!! Keep the game rolling along, and the endless clues coming.

When I was a boy, I spoke as a boy and thought as a boy, only not entirely, as poor Fat Clyde was a boy many other times, and kept it to himself after coming to realize that all the peeps around him mocked and jeered him for making that ridiculous claim. Still, as a man, and each time that he was, he knows this fact as well, and still knows that he remains endlessly trapped in a place or really a situation, given a nasty name by human beings, HELL. This is it Denny Cuzzfake, you are totally on the $$$$$. I never doubted you for a second, old pal.

Many terrible things happened to poor Fat Clyde, or really, to tiny-skinny Clyde, back when it all began, and when this poor pathetic little shit-bastard, was way too happy to see, or begin to realize any of it; yet the 'LOOP' was always there, all the time, all the times; and forever explaining, what otherwise had absolutely nothing but dead ends, and blocked roads, and no rational answers, not ever.

Between the year 1969 and the year 2011, forty-two years of stuff happened to poor Clyde, who never meant to cause one bit of harm or ill will towards a single soul. Clyde totally knows the entire religion system of this world is phony, fake, and a total lie. The reason is that the laws of reap and sow do not apply to him, nor do the biblical claims that nothing beyond the reality of the human civilization is possible to ever happen to anyone. If two, not one, but TWO powerful things from scripture, are total lies in the life of Fat Clyde, for 42+ years of time now, then the entire mother fucking deal is one huge ass balloon hoax.

By the way, poor Clyde took a major computer hacking, AND NEARLY CRASHED AND DIED WHILE ATTEMPTING TO POST HIS FINAL BLOG UNSDER THE OTHER FALSE NAMES, as this is now the fictional blog of Fat Clyde. All other shit belongs to poor Mark Wayne Mountainpen, and his deluded sick mind, poor fellow, sheeeeeeeeeeit.

Fat Clyde needs to remind some of his wonderful Zack-Close-Friends, and others, that they sure are touchy. Sometimes poor Fat Clyde is asking simple questions of folks, and gets slammed for it, making him then wonder why innocent peeps would be so angry. In fact, some of his Zack-pals made some excellent points, and if said calm and nice without shouting like kids in sandboxes do, he found the rebuts very enlightening, and all though good old Fat Clyde may not totally agree with all that may have been said, some of it was just what he wanted to hear, a good presentation was made when it was brought to Clyde's attention that it can cost a lot more than even 50 grand, for a really professional upgraded production of raw material. This was a point well hit home, but why so much hate and anger had to be there, well, this is the situation that all though Clyde has no answer for in total truth, it has always plagued poor Fat Clyde. In any event, here is a list of the assets of Fat Clyde, so the lawyers can seize them upon winning a court case, for what the life of him, Clyde has no idea what he is being sued for, and a friend-lawyer here in the place where Fat Clyde resides, who read the text that made the plaintiff so angry; which was a blog posted by old Fat Clyde, and who will represent him when papers are filed; said to Clyde this afternoon, and I quote, “What is all this, some joke?” Still, he laughed, and we then went over to a fast food joint and chowed down abnd had a good laugh over it. Still, the assets of Clyde will be listed so that the plaintiff can know what will be received upon winning. I know for a fact that nobody including the Internal Revenue Service, can take away your bed, several pairs of clothes over your back, and food in your kitchen. As for what else is there, well, plaintiff will receive a used 12 inch television worth perhaps 30 bucks, a used keyboard, also worth about same, a dining room table and 3 chairs, along with two lamps, and including the light-bulbs, might total up to another 80 bucks, it is all old and used, and purchased a year ago or so from the great Salvation Army. I know that any Social Security Disability Benefits are exempt, not from the IRS, but then, this is a private person. Clyde also owes another 21 payments on his 2004 Dodge Neon automobile, and with its age and 83,000 mileage; I doubt it has positive value, when $240.00 payments are all multiplied up. If it was taken from me, I of course would refuse to make any further payments. In addition, Fat Clyde can prove legally, that his income from working for the AARP, as well as the SSD monthly checks, totaling no more than 1400 monthly dollars, is exactly the amount of money needed for his survival, with his rent and his other obligations; as well as only a $16.00 monthly food stamp allowance, and a share-cost medicare/medicaid amount, leaving him to pay lots of medical bills for what was done to poor Fat Clyde in 1983, to his lymph glands; and when I subpena certain peeps to testify about it all, most likely due to major complex Kennedy connections, and NASA secrets, the entire thing will be ordered to disappear anyway, but in any event, GOOD LUCK, PAL, and Clyde will gladly honor your command, it was you who called him, just in case your memory is in need of a slight jolt, me' ol' Zack-Friend-Close. Still, this brings this entire blog to a wonderful new dimension. Poor Fat Clyde sees now that his ol' part' really feels that all things said and done, he is fully resolved, and has done no wrong at all, none whatsoever, and you know what, Clyde believes him 100%. Now then, look at what I have accused others of, and yet eternal silence remains. Thank you great sir, for making old Clyde here, come to see a really powerful thing here today, after he reviewed his messages on voice-mail. If anything, you have done old Clyde a really gigantic favor, so if that was not your intention, did you screw it up for yourself. Anyway, thank you, and after this paragraph changes, you, the company, all of it, will never be mentioned in another one of Clyde's Blogs. If you still want to sue poor Clyde, that is entirely your own business. He is clueless to exactly what he wrote, that you could sue him over, but wow; maybe he is about to find out. But if you wanna' call it even-Steven, that is your call. Maybe you know about the sea charts, hey, don't be a fool. They will go to my daughter, and I cannot be forced to do anything with them in my lifetime, not by the biggest federal judge in America; as it would be not only cost prohibitive, but owner rights would need to be changed, as far as this Treasure Coast. The area has all ready been claimed, as I learned by coming down here. So this is worthless paper, and if you force my hand, I will just memorize the positions, and do a Bob McGuire match on the chart.

Ann, thank you for being there, and being my friend, when the world turns on me and hangs me up with nails through me, you at least are there. One loyal friend is all any man ever needs, as Donna reminds me so often, that no man is an island, and she is correct.

I love you IRENE, go up there and knock some heads for me, sweetie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YO. Just swing carefully around my friend Ann. Her evil daughter is gone now, but she did her damage. I did not have enough hell and troubles until she came along, did I folks? It seems that only more mother fucking bullshit is added to me on a year to year steady basis, nothing bad is ever taken away from me, merely, more mother fucking shit is added onto my back, to further weigh down my all ready monstrous unfathomable load. Yeah, first there was nothing, you knew what you were talking about Tupperware Cara, with lots of help from Mutt and Jeff, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well peeps, since this assault on me is beyond relentless and verbal diction times ten to power ten thousand, let me answer back with this little bit of fucking shit. I do not know what “THEY” have done to your song or to your soul, Melanie, but I do know that dangerous Sleep-Walkers abound. Not all movers are SW, and not all SW are movers, and southwest has nothing to do with this. First, there are many types of hypnotic trances, many types of sleep-walkers, and only one Russ Walker, of THE PERMISSION BARRIER book from the year of 1994. There was a strange thing that happened thousands of years ago, that directly connects Atlantic City, New Jersey, and this would be when the lovely wife of Abraham, did not trust Jehovah to give her a son. This has implications that stretch far far beyond any divinity school in this time period, but not beyond a secret told to my Aunt Geraldine Snow now dearly departed as humans might word it, not Doctor Hayward in Pine Valley of course, as he knows better, Right Agnes Photo 10-SC?My cousin Donald Powell did not say this in so many words, but the last time we chowed down together in a restaurant in the Roxborough section of Philadelphia where he resided at the time and maybe still does, he told me that for my own good, I better stop poking around with the “Atlantic City thing”, quote, mother fucking end of fucking quote, YO!!!! I haven't begun to poke around, and you can make the entire world threaten me all you want. I have been wronged by lots of pricks, and if I am destined to get my day in a court of law, well, lotsa shit's coming out.

As for more discussion on PHASE-4, reality and non-reality, interactions on the physical hyperspace planes verses the one single Astral Plane, and much more, will all be told in brand new ways, with brand new keys, in the following blogs. I have had it with intimidation's, theft of my belongings, theft of my soul, and being owned by the Lennyfarian Crew of 1980. Excuse old Fat Clyde if he doesn't just roll over and die, peeps, I have been worked and played by mother fucking experts, so water board on, President Bush and Ambulance Patients who reside in parallel universes where great highways run from Washington, DC, all the way into Vineland, New Jersey, and so much more. You all don't think I've got your numbers? What a fatal mistake, scowl face Trump, as if I give a shit, huh Mister Winn?????????

Starting with SJ-0222, both Sally and Clyde, will be saying something, lots of something's, oh great hoarse Billy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Chemtrails and lymph glands, gimme' a bweak Elmer Asshole Fwudd, WHAAAAAAAA!!!

END OF BLOG, YO.