SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 159
WORLD LABS SBT-DATFILE: 053111.988
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
Two Pitsy times ago it was 1980, one month into my first stay at the Voorhees Township, New Jersey Robin Hill Apartment complex. It would be about 4days and nights ticking down from the great interaction with SCYLLA, that my blogs refer to so many times as LOIS FOCA.
You have heard me talk about reality-3 when the Parallel-Event discussion is in progress from time to time, and it is nothing more than saying that something other than either the “A” or the “B” event, is behind some type of OZ CURTAIN, and in front of them with all of us normal peeps, would be the two events that appear to be in some fashion connected to each other cosmically, even though in many instances, it makes no sense to a logical thought process, why indeed they would be connected. I've sited the fist fight bar example and how some things make total sense, yet in cases such as comparing roulette game parameters or whether certain football teams win every time it rains in Johannesburg, South Africa, or a great preponderance, and no matter how you examine it and shake and toss it all up, something huge is indeed behind this curtain, whether or not some young chick with a lot of audaciousness and guts such as Dorothy from Kansas, pulls these curtains back to expose the PARLOR TRICK, 'OR NOT', MISS AT&T BLAKE of '83.
You also have heard my ranting on with the PITSY YEARS, or the PORT-IN-THE-STORM-YEARS. Pitsy, pretty, White Boys, Donna, or Oh-God-
Tracy-Potato-Chips, something is also up with this mathematical system based on the two numbers of eleven and three. For those just tuning in now to the story of the MOUNTAINPEN, 1969 and 1980 are apart by 11 years. Adding eleven as well as a three additional amount with each new movement of this figure, it comes to 1980 + 11 + 3, and then from this it would go to another 11 + 3 + 3. A child can add up this simple deal here, and we are now led to 1969, 1980, 1994, and 2011. Finally, the Pitsy year after this one now would be 11 + 3 + 3 + 3 or 20 and 2011 which comes to the year of 2031. This is the time I have been told, I'll be released from this prison that you call waking physical life. Freed from prison is a total illusion. There is no years, there is no before or after, and there is no start or end, in the real higher reality of things, only in these realms of space-time illusion, and without moving into the full sixth dimension, I cannot use the real terminology here called STM, or SPACE-TIME-MIND.
Every utility has messed with me. I mention Detective Studderreale, in a joking way, and my studder tone voice-mail got messed with. It worked fine when I first moved in here, and then boom, it just stopped working,. For absolutely no discernible reason. AT&T says it will be repaired in 24 hours. We will see folks. My words have power, and I need to be KING CAREFUL just how I decide to use each and every one of them, especially on an electronic medium of any kind. Have I been zapped into a universe in the vast hyperspace where impaired speech or the word studder has vanished, or has Spell Checker reached new lows in intelligence recently, across the hyperspace board all together?
It is only a matter 'ODF' time, before the world will make me vanish. Only World War Two is protected, according to Bruce Goldberg. Read the book. I know only too well, Sir Bruce, ho0w they make me look like a nut,m YO! 'OF/OF/OF/OF', fucking hacker ass, 'NOT ODF', get fucking lost jerk off Lattisaw!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You do not make things happen, or make your own luck, this is a total lie, a fallacy, and bullshit if there ever was a reason for the Henry Fonda invention of this great boat naming word, and not SCYLLA in human form!
Dave Roth talked about the WILLIAMSTOWN CYCLES, long before I was made total privy of his group he loved so much called, NEW SHOES. Also, long before I knew the approximate dimensions of this expansion called a hypersphere. Still, what sick joy mother fuckers do you get out of shit like what you pulled earlier today, jack off ass holes? If I'm so important, what are you cock sucking mother fuckers gonna'; do when I am dead and fucking gone someday and you no longer have me to mother fucking play with, YO?
When the great and beautiful teenager, Roseann Delaney, back in the summer time in 1969 or late spring time there about somewhere, tried to bite my head off, this had nothing to do with me waking up that morning, and think to myself; gee, I hope some tall long haired beauty queen comes along this evening while I'm outside with my cat, and thinks that she is Barnabas Collins' sister or something. I d not claim to have all the answers, not about Dangerfield, not about just how good ice tea can really taste, or anything else such as special education teachers who seem to know the total ass future, and others who know that at the ripe old age of fourteen, I have paternal possibilities. After-all, YO, no sense upsetting the All Mighty millionaire phony hoax Gini and Austin, of www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ for freaking crissake, YO!
Limiting the reality scope to indeed shit that I do know peeps, 5/12 of this year is over and 7/12 remain, and a child in 2nd grade knows or should know this simple whittle fact. Unlike 69, 80, or 94, this mother fucking year has not in any way proven to be these years, in fact 2011 has been putrid and fucking horrendous times ten to the fucking tenth power. I am speechless, as mathematics normally does not dick fucking out. Things normally work out, mathematically, but them , there's that trusty old HUNTINGTON CURSE, that gets in the way every time.
I do challenge anyone alive with a brain, to take my blog and read it over any length of time, and whether you like me or hate me or feel any way inbefreakingtween, reality still goes 'BING'------ STUDDERREALE TOM CHILD MOLESTOR of the great Atlantic City Water Works and the great CALLIO/MCGETTIGAN/MCGUIRE/MARTINO/KING CLAN OF THE NORTH!
Those guilty of perpetrating the evils that I have had to live and suffer through for literally nearly six fucking decades now, feel tucked away, so nice and cozy and safe on that other side of those great OZ CURTAINS. Well, I must find my Dorothy, and one way or another Perky Cora and Paula Pederpuke, I WILL, and BILL REED, and the entire mother fucking state of New cunt lapping Jersey; can take this any way they want, and they can also feel free to call up the damn State Police on me as well, see if I care, I'[m fucking shaking in my bloody boots, KATE WILLIS. Come on out with a new hit, bitch!!!!!!!!!! BE WARNED, I am working on a super plan to find Dorothy. My finding Sarah days were a long stage, and they have NOW OFFICIALLY TERMINATED, MY BROTHER!Break somebody else's arm Frank Educatorcop Callio, and run up somebody else's telephone bills Allbright, you canoodles. How much did you pay Selena Dada? Are you happy you made me remember all this, Michelle Daniels of RPL? Still wonder about the reasons behind my 'opinions', or can we just leave things at I'm entitled, sheeeeeeeeeeit, girl. Hay, Leticia, wow is it fun not to have to play your car game. Your cousin long ago, was enough baggage to handle, Jesus Christ.
Count Woods, not test pressings. The logic here is invaluable. This was most definitely another 'Giant Haddonwood Fly Stargate' , both on that day in the autumn of 1969 where I saw the 3rd day on my 1970 vacation would begin a lifelong fucking disaster, as well as this very evening. Things merged and I was for an instant, back there, throwing a brick through that stupid door that would not open by itself as it did in the television show. What next, ism my godsdamn response, Roseann?
We'll get seriously into big time shit on SJ-#160, right now I must freaking crash. This was another SUPER BOTBAR DAY, but then folks, WEIN, SOSO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END TWANSMISSION, WHAAAAAAAAAAAA. BYE-BYE FOLKS!!!!!
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 158
608SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 158
ALL SYBTITLES APPLY, NO 4TH SUB
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2296
SEND-BACK-TEXT DATFILE:
CH-158-053011.608
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
COPYRIGHTED MARK WAYNE MOHR
COPYRIGHTED MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN
SWORN STATEMENT UNDER LIBEL AND PURJURY:
ALL STATEMENTS HEREIN ARE FACTURAL,
THEY ARE NOT IN ANY WAY, DEVIATIONS FROM
THE TRUTH KNOWN BY ME AS BEST AS IS
POSSIBLE AND TO BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
As soon as I got off the telephone with my friend, Ann King Silva, I activated the computer to do this blog, and immediately realize that my settings again are all switched back to living on 36th Street, San Mateo, California, and the time reads accordingly. Let me now effect repairs for my true address of 601 Avenue B, here in Fort Pierce, Florida, and make my clock read nearly a quarter before three, not much earlier, on this freaking ass 'Monday-HELLIDAY-HOLIDAY' afternoon.
I've told Ann, all the shit that' been done to me recently by these enemies, as well as all of the many cousins, distant as they may be, of her very special and incredible family, She knows about the leaving of the Egg Harbor Township Library that day in the autumn in 2006 with Ed and myself, after my blogging that I'll be arriving on 10-SC Avenue shortly, in enemy-town Atlantic City, NJUSAESMWG, and once there, good old non-fully-human ROBERT MCGUIRE was right there around us in the shadows, TO GREET US, in a not so friendly way, ATLANTIC COUNTY PROSECUTOR, cousin of my Philadelphia Doctor of the nineteen-seventies, Edmund L. Housel, and brother of Elisa, Joe King's Fiance', Joe is the only son of Ann King. They will be working on getting me my copy back on my all ready paid for and totally legal website disc, the MORIANITY-FOUNDATION, Google it u[p , folks, have a blast. If you come from the distant future and are accessing this through the cosmanet system, using distance delay channels AX57 or AX592, type in www.morianity-foundation.com/ as long as it is in the year of 2007 or the latter part of 2006.
Well, all night long, both of my GODESSESS interacted with me in wild and strange ways. Memories in this waking human dreaming right now, are blurry and fuzzy, tom say the very least. Ann knows and now remembers seeing the pix on this MF website, and neither Ed nor myself, remembers a thing about McGuire sticking his ugly head in my automobile passenger side front window. Take a look, ACP Housel. We had no knowledge that this event ever took place at all, and were amazingly stymied and quite flabbergasted when we developed the film disc at the Eckert Pharmacy, and saw this for the freaking first time ourselves. If this is not a major THREAT TO THE NATIONAL SECURITY, a powerful clan walking around amongst us with this kind of power and obviously not timid or shy about using their powers and abilities on both me and any or all of my associates or friends, then I do not know what would be, MISTER TOM RIDGE, SIR!!!!!!! Then I told Ann all about the time in June of 1996 when I left my swim club in West Deptford, New Jersey, the Haddonwood Swim and Health Club that was owned and operated by MISTER TONY ZENUN, how I proceeded to go to this psychic shop just down the road a mile or less, called “The Gathering Place”; and then that punk Nick took a hammer and ruined my hubcap on my Saturn Satan Automobile, cool combination, Satan wrecking a Saturn, who know, maybe a house divided against itself can stand up after-all.
Someone did a Golden Nugget Triple-A Auto Club on me yesterday, calling in a fake maintenance report saying my door to my apartment is broken, causing the maintenance peeps to knock early and awaken me for nothing, when there was nothing whatsoever wrong with my door. Someday when I know who ism doing this, I will sample your voice and you will be paid a personal visit from tom ridge and the boys of homeland security. As I said, I only wish I could sing like that shit up on U-Tube, computers can indeed come in quite handy. I think it was done better than 1980, and am wondering if artists still share the disdain for technology that the great Donna Gaines Summer did when I admitted to her that I used it back then.
Fire alarms are hell in public housing buildings. At all times, I need to be ready to put in my earplugs, and even then, slip on a pair of headset phones over even this, to avoid going totally ass deaf from the shrill sound. It lasts until the Fire Department can arrive and determine the apartment number where the smoke alarm went off, and only they can then proceed to terminate this gods awful piercing sound that in my opinion poses a health hazard to the hearing (OF), and not twice fucking hacked “ODF” the residents, but this is none of my business. I am in here saving money so I can return to New Jersey, and my friend Ann King, and be back amongst peeps who care about me. I need extra money so I can move all my personal belongings into storage up there and secure a place to reside, one of many homes owned and rented out by the infamous and eminent Judge Frank Rasso. The day that I moved in here and had to get up and work very hard, the next day, over at the HARVEST, www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ , three, count them Lex Luther Supershit, 3 fire alarms went off, late afternoon, and then the sleep destroying other two, one happening past midnight, and the final one around just shy of six in the fucking ass moUUUUUUUUUUUUrning!!!!!!! Any fucking cunt eating time that peeps wanna' make my fucking pathetic twisted ass life nothing but a total endless never ending nightmare hot fire breathing hell, they have a million various ways of covertly fucking pulling off a string of different shit ass things, and never ever be recognized or caught for what they really are doing, and that of course is, killing me, year after year, every night and day, decade after decade, wrecking and obliterating my entire life, for reasons that these sick twat-lappers only know and understand.
I want to make sure that Scylla understands, that I don't hold her family against her for any of this, and all though we both were set up on that night of Saturday the second of August, nearly 25 years ago, I really will always remember in some hazy way, despite McGuire and Rogers 'Milk of Amnesia' (L&O) strobing hypnotic powers, the fun we had for an hour, and I would do it all over again, accept for the part of giving you a fake phone number, and ripping up yours, I am so sorry. You would have been worth Rikers Island, and you can tell Paula King the great TYPE-3 Exploratron, I said so. Nobody is perfect, right Bruce Pennock, Vance Grody street addresses all notwithstanding, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Maybe I've had issues with many members of your distant clan, Ann, but you are my best friend. I know that your late daughter, Dawn-Marie, forced you to write me that note, back in 2010. Eric, I know you too have been placed under some type of extreme pressure to hurt me the way you have done,.b This is why I totally know that Christianity is fake and phony, MISTER POPE. If a consistent pattern over nearly six decades of time now, proves beyond any shadow of doubt, that this thing that is against me is much stronger than your so called GOD, the way you see things, then I will go with what my five senses perceive every time. I will not deny reality just because it can indeed become way to ugly to stare down and face many times, I will still not deny its existence nor its truths. It is all nothing but a gigantic humongous hoax that has lasted for thousands of mother fucking years now. Someday soon, MORIANITY will bring the OZ-CURTAINS down on all of this, and the world will simply have to awaken someday to truth and enlightenment.
Yes, 42 years ago, I was walking down the great mighty Tennessee Avenue of Atlantic City, and Sarah was right there with Nina and Paula, and a car came down from Pacific Avenue,m towards the boardwalk and stopped outside the shop of the great Karge. I still hear you loud and clear hollering into the car window, right there outside the doorway into McGuire's BOTBAR bar and Pittsburgh Hotel, “YOU FRIENDS ARE IN THE SHOP”. Some things cannot be forgotten with a gallon on Doctor Rogers Nasal Spray shots of Propophol, or MOA
Lots of planes are flying around, and have been, yesterday I was driving over to the old place to finish the little shit up, and somebody removed all of the carts and the dollies, and I had to kill myself getting lots of small but heavy shit up to my fucking #607 apartment. The same fucking chopper that is stalking me fucking illegally, and has been for 25 years or so; again, was in front of me, while I was fucking driving down good old Orange Avenue, around 2-2:30 yesterday; towards my old residence.
It is only a matter of time before this WOMO scum twisted evil fucking demonic despicable enemy loses completely, and this is all over. Someday, I have to fucking die, and then you cannot fucking hurt me ever again, HA-HA. If this happens, then fine; but the other possibility, is that you are gonna' be found out and caught, no matter how mother fucking clever and all mighty powerful that you may think that you all are out here, mother fucking jerk offs! Maybe I should lower my major cussing level. After-all, as the blogs of October 5th of 2008 state, I am not 'standing at the foot of the stairs', am I right MO'-------NICK????????????
Yes, hopefully MI, you have forgiven me for 1986. It is me who cannot ever forgive myself for letting things turn out the way it all did, losing you for a second time. I cry myself to sleep every single night, ask Diana. Still, through STM, I saw and knew all of this back on the prior PITSY year of 1994. You know about it, you even agreed that I was “That-Boy, and until your parents came along down the beach and wrecked everything, I was happy for the first time in my life. I was the age in this interaction of waking mind, that you are now, today. I told you, and I meant it, and still do, “Have a nice life”. How Hollywood can live with themselves for capitalizing on my agony and endless tears is absolutely incomprehensible, unthinkable, and totally deplorable and abominable.
Bon Jovi's cousin sent me a note saying, “Mission accomplished, BRO”. I am not sure what he meant or means, and am still studying the situation. Sorry things fucked with your cousin, but as I'm quite sure that you know my friend, once they stop pumping gas, and go onto make it into the big time, they'll turn on you. That is merely the freaking story of life in this wovewee ol' world, there maitee.
LSS, I tried to put all of us out of our misery, it didn't work. I haven't given up yet, don't anybody count me out. As Jack McCoy on the “L&O” television show would put this so perfectly and eloquently, “I still have one more at-bats, so don't count me out”
END TWANSMISSION, SILWEE WABBIT ELMER, WHAAAAAA.
ALL SYBTITLES APPLY, NO 4TH SUB
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2296
SEND-BACK-TEXT DATFILE:
CH-158-053011.608
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
COPYRIGHTED MARK WAYNE MOHR
COPYRIGHTED MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN
SWORN STATEMENT UNDER LIBEL AND PURJURY:
ALL STATEMENTS HEREIN ARE FACTURAL,
THEY ARE NOT IN ANY WAY, DEVIATIONS FROM
THE TRUTH KNOWN BY ME AS BEST AS IS
POSSIBLE AND TO BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
As soon as I got off the telephone with my friend, Ann King Silva, I activated the computer to do this blog, and immediately realize that my settings again are all switched back to living on 36th Street, San Mateo, California, and the time reads accordingly. Let me now effect repairs for my true address of 601 Avenue B, here in Fort Pierce, Florida, and make my clock read nearly a quarter before three, not much earlier, on this freaking ass 'Monday-HELLIDAY-HOLIDAY' afternoon.
I've told Ann, all the shit that' been done to me recently by these enemies, as well as all of the many cousins, distant as they may be, of her very special and incredible family, She knows about the leaving of the Egg Harbor Township Library that day in the autumn in 2006 with Ed and myself, after my blogging that I'll be arriving on 10-SC Avenue shortly, in enemy-town Atlantic City, NJUSAESMWG, and once there, good old non-fully-human ROBERT MCGUIRE was right there around us in the shadows, TO GREET US, in a not so friendly way, ATLANTIC COUNTY PROSECUTOR, cousin of my Philadelphia Doctor of the nineteen-seventies, Edmund L. Housel, and brother of Elisa, Joe King's Fiance', Joe is the only son of Ann King. They will be working on getting me my copy back on my all ready paid for and totally legal website disc, the MORIANITY-FOUNDATION, Google it u[p , folks, have a blast. If you come from the distant future and are accessing this through the cosmanet system, using distance delay channels AX57 or AX592, type in www.morianity-foundation.com/ as long as it is in the year of 2007 or the latter part of 2006.
Well, all night long, both of my GODESSESS interacted with me in wild and strange ways. Memories in this waking human dreaming right now, are blurry and fuzzy, tom say the very least. Ann knows and now remembers seeing the pix on this MF website, and neither Ed nor myself, remembers a thing about McGuire sticking his ugly head in my automobile passenger side front window. Take a look, ACP Housel. We had no knowledge that this event ever took place at all, and were amazingly stymied and quite flabbergasted when we developed the film disc at the Eckert Pharmacy, and saw this for the freaking first time ourselves. If this is not a major THREAT TO THE NATIONAL SECURITY, a powerful clan walking around amongst us with this kind of power and obviously not timid or shy about using their powers and abilities on both me and any or all of my associates or friends, then I do not know what would be, MISTER TOM RIDGE, SIR!!!!!!! Then I told Ann all about the time in June of 1996 when I left my swim club in West Deptford, New Jersey, the Haddonwood Swim and Health Club that was owned and operated by MISTER TONY ZENUN, how I proceeded to go to this psychic shop just down the road a mile or less, called “The Gathering Place”; and then that punk Nick took a hammer and ruined my hubcap on my Saturn Satan Automobile, cool combination, Satan wrecking a Saturn, who know, maybe a house divided against itself can stand up after-all.
Someone did a Golden Nugget Triple-A Auto Club on me yesterday, calling in a fake maintenance report saying my door to my apartment is broken, causing the maintenance peeps to knock early and awaken me for nothing, when there was nothing whatsoever wrong with my door. Someday when I know who ism doing this, I will sample your voice and you will be paid a personal visit from tom ridge and the boys of homeland security. As I said, I only wish I could sing like that shit up on U-Tube, computers can indeed come in quite handy. I think it was done better than 1980, and am wondering if artists still share the disdain for technology that the great Donna Gaines Summer did when I admitted to her that I used it back then.
Fire alarms are hell in public housing buildings. At all times, I need to be ready to put in my earplugs, and even then, slip on a pair of headset phones over even this, to avoid going totally ass deaf from the shrill sound. It lasts until the Fire Department can arrive and determine the apartment number where the smoke alarm went off, and only they can then proceed to terminate this gods awful piercing sound that in my opinion poses a health hazard to the hearing (OF), and not twice fucking hacked “ODF” the residents, but this is none of my business. I am in here saving money so I can return to New Jersey, and my friend Ann King, and be back amongst peeps who care about me. I need extra money so I can move all my personal belongings into storage up there and secure a place to reside, one of many homes owned and rented out by the infamous and eminent Judge Frank Rasso. The day that I moved in here and had to get up and work very hard, the next day, over at the HARVEST, www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ , three, count them Lex Luther Supershit, 3 fire alarms went off, late afternoon, and then the sleep destroying other two, one happening past midnight, and the final one around just shy of six in the fucking ass moUUUUUUUUUUUUrning!!!!!!! Any fucking cunt eating time that peeps wanna' make my fucking pathetic twisted ass life nothing but a total endless never ending nightmare hot fire breathing hell, they have a million various ways of covertly fucking pulling off a string of different shit ass things, and never ever be recognized or caught for what they really are doing, and that of course is, killing me, year after year, every night and day, decade after decade, wrecking and obliterating my entire life, for reasons that these sick twat-lappers only know and understand.
I want to make sure that Scylla understands, that I don't hold her family against her for any of this, and all though we both were set up on that night of Saturday the second of August, nearly 25 years ago, I really will always remember in some hazy way, despite McGuire and Rogers 'Milk of Amnesia' (L&O) strobing hypnotic powers, the fun we had for an hour, and I would do it all over again, accept for the part of giving you a fake phone number, and ripping up yours, I am so sorry. You would have been worth Rikers Island, and you can tell Paula King the great TYPE-3 Exploratron, I said so. Nobody is perfect, right Bruce Pennock, Vance Grody street addresses all notwithstanding, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!
Maybe I've had issues with many members of your distant clan, Ann, but you are my best friend. I know that your late daughter, Dawn-Marie, forced you to write me that note, back in 2010. Eric, I know you too have been placed under some type of extreme pressure to hurt me the way you have done,.b This is why I totally know that Christianity is fake and phony, MISTER POPE. If a consistent pattern over nearly six decades of time now, proves beyond any shadow of doubt, that this thing that is against me is much stronger than your so called GOD, the way you see things, then I will go with what my five senses perceive every time. I will not deny reality just because it can indeed become way to ugly to stare down and face many times, I will still not deny its existence nor its truths. It is all nothing but a gigantic humongous hoax that has lasted for thousands of mother fucking years now. Someday soon, MORIANITY will bring the OZ-CURTAINS down on all of this, and the world will simply have to awaken someday to truth and enlightenment.
Yes, 42 years ago, I was walking down the great mighty Tennessee Avenue of Atlantic City, and Sarah was right there with Nina and Paula, and a car came down from Pacific Avenue,m towards the boardwalk and stopped outside the shop of the great Karge. I still hear you loud and clear hollering into the car window, right there outside the doorway into McGuire's BOTBAR bar and Pittsburgh Hotel, “YOU FRIENDS ARE IN THE SHOP”. Some things cannot be forgotten with a gallon on Doctor Rogers Nasal Spray shots of Propophol, or MOA
Lots of planes are flying around, and have been, yesterday I was driving over to the old place to finish the little shit up, and somebody removed all of the carts and the dollies, and I had to kill myself getting lots of small but heavy shit up to my fucking #607 apartment. The same fucking chopper that is stalking me fucking illegally, and has been for 25 years or so; again, was in front of me, while I was fucking driving down good old Orange Avenue, around 2-2:30 yesterday; towards my old residence.
It is only a matter of time before this WOMO scum twisted evil fucking demonic despicable enemy loses completely, and this is all over. Someday, I have to fucking die, and then you cannot fucking hurt me ever again, HA-HA. If this happens, then fine; but the other possibility, is that you are gonna' be found out and caught, no matter how mother fucking clever and all mighty powerful that you may think that you all are out here, mother fucking jerk offs! Maybe I should lower my major cussing level. After-all, as the blogs of October 5th of 2008 state, I am not 'standing at the foot of the stairs', am I right MO'-------NICK????????????
Yes, hopefully MI, you have forgiven me for 1986. It is me who cannot ever forgive myself for letting things turn out the way it all did, losing you for a second time. I cry myself to sleep every single night, ask Diana. Still, through STM, I saw and knew all of this back on the prior PITSY year of 1994. You know about it, you even agreed that I was “That-Boy, and until your parents came along down the beach and wrecked everything, I was happy for the first time in my life. I was the age in this interaction of waking mind, that you are now, today. I told you, and I meant it, and still do, “Have a nice life”. How Hollywood can live with themselves for capitalizing on my agony and endless tears is absolutely incomprehensible, unthinkable, and totally deplorable and abominable.
Bon Jovi's cousin sent me a note saying, “Mission accomplished, BRO”. I am not sure what he meant or means, and am still studying the situation. Sorry things fucked with your cousin, but as I'm quite sure that you know my friend, once they stop pumping gas, and go onto make it into the big time, they'll turn on you. That is merely the freaking story of life in this wovewee ol' world, there maitee.
LSS, I tried to put all of us out of our misery, it didn't work. I haven't given up yet, don't anybody count me out. As Jack McCoy on the “L&O” television show would put this so perfectly and eloquently, “I still have one more at-bats, so don't count me out”
END TWANSMISSION, SILWEE WABBIT ELMER, WHAAAAAA.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 157
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 157
WL-SBT-DATFILE: CH-157-0528.886
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995 CONTINUING
BLOG SUBTITLE #4:
“COVERT DOOMSDAY PLOT FAILED”
COPYRIGHT, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, MWM/MWM
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
My mom observed a powerful piece of truth and reality that appeared to be surrounding her only son, me, and she was not only perfectly accurate, but not even I at those times in the distant past, adolescence basically, really understood or fully comprehended the gravity and power of what was behind this item that she observed, and yes folks, it was discussed before once or twice on blogs from 3-6 years ago somewhere. She told me that no one in authority for some odd reason would ever “follow through” with me,m NOT ON ANYTHING, NOT EVER, NOT ONCE. A lot of days have passed me by since then, and these words of hers hold totally factual and true, right up to this freaking second. So why? Well, this has had the greatest philosophers flabbergasted and fixed to their chairs of life with unmeasurable history of humankind civilization. I am merely a part of their fascination in cosmic collective truth, that is to say that my situation of this great and humongous “Y” on this issue brought up right now on this blog; is still the all encompassing knowledge that gifted thinkers forever have seriously pondered their lifetimes upon, this being of course, be it any topic or question or wonderment, YYYYYYYYY? It therefore must be the true 8th dimension, as before the LAWTRON that have managed to escape a previously existing closed curve infinity, and made up this one of which soul is merely a counterpart in either the Astral World, or dreamed further down and away into the 5th dimensional hyperspace. Without getting so philosophically technical about bullshit here folks, let me try and reword and simplify crap. My mom was a fairly average or normal human being. Like any of us, she had her quirky shit, who doesn't? Anyone out here that says they do not, are liars, it is just that John Henningsen Colorado simple, 1969 or no 1969, BRRRR!!!!! Still, like any concerned parent would be, with any of their children, be it an only or one out of a dozen, she observed this nightmare around me, and way back then, and it drove her nuts, and well it should have, looking back on this as a fully grown man now, seeing it through the eyes of a parent concerned for a child.
Lots of peeps out here think they know a lot about me, and have made quite dangerous assessments and value judgments, in so much as it is not me that you judge, but the most incredible family line in history, and a line where one member in every generation, inherits a Morgan Collins Lottery, straight from the great Nicholas Blair, Apollo-Lucifer, The Lasmist Brigger Leviathan Cult, and the great sixties daytime television serial that many remember to this day called, “Dark Shadows”.
The twelve elevators of the great sixth dimension have a lot to do with all of this, and there is no time now to draw any ODF these necessary correlations, so we will move this right along within an acceptable time frame and blogging length. The connection of reality and fantasy, has to do more with a basic geometric truth, than anything else, despite any or all of my readers wanting to holler out, BULLSHIT at 14 bells of sound pressure level, 140 decibels, Alexander Graham. Our world is about 8,000 miles through, if at any point on its surgface, you would travel down into the ground in a straight line all the way out the other side, or said in geometric language, 8,000 miles in diameter. Around and beyond this sphere, is a hypersphere. This is known as the known universe. Many have estimated the size and dimensions of this hypersphere, and have not yet realized that just as horizons work here on the sphere we call Planet Earth, so also the surrounding hypersphere would operate in a similar manner. Redshift and light dropping off out into nothingness, is what you see if looking through the powerful Hubble Telescope, at roughly estimated distances at all points from the Earth, of fifteen billion light years, there are roughly six trillion miles in a light year, so in miles, the distance rounds off around 6,000,000,000,000 times 15,000,000,000, so we multiply the 15 and the 6 and add the total amount of zeros, and then we arrive at approximately the figure of 90,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 miles, where beyond us here on Earth, we see the illusion of the beginning of time and space. This is merely a gigantic horizon, just as the sea and sky vanish away when gazing outward from a summer's beach. The word MILE is English, as over on the European Continent, we use the meter and the 1000 meter measurement or the kilo-meter. Nearly 100 sextillion miles around is no small hypersphere, yet the entire thing is smaller than the tiniest particle that exists in an upline world beyond this one. This was all information that I gave to the world in my 1994 book called, “The Permission Barrier”. Peeps are all so dumbed down, that computer spell-checkers do not recognize the word that means mathematically, one times ten to the exponent power of twenty-one. In fact, all though we all hear this expression, DUMBED-DOWN, quite frequently, spell-checker does not recognize that either. So is anybody smarter than a fifth grader besides the All Mighty Donald J-Harvard Trump, and his All Mighty Wolf Network, as it did not take me all that long to unravel how they all came to know so much about my life, Don, you sicko. There are 5,280 feet to the MI. This is a totally accepted abbreviation, and if Microsoft Narrator speaks the name of my first posted song of the two that are up there, it does not pronounce it as the word “MY” should be pronounced, try it, do not ever take me at my word, I would not respect you in the morning if you did, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Doing the math to the reality of this planet and the hypersphere around it, you all may thought it was a big joke last year, two early spring's ago in TWO MAROLA TEN, with the NEW SHOE thing, and this is how my U-TUBE NOOSHOO was jokingly done. Naturally, King Nebuchadnezzar was the King of a totally different Babylon than the one now exiting in Long Island in the United States, but that too, is part of the HA-HA-FUNNY. If you don't laugh sometimes, what's left but freaking Crocodile tears, peeps, you know? After marching along for two nonillion feet, there would most definitely be quite a need for a lot of NEW SHOES. Vigintillion, nonillion, none of these numbers are known about at all, what DO THEY teach in school anymore, YO? I saw the Judge Judy Show a few days back, relaxing after unpacking a few boxes, and you all know what I mean here? Judy, give it up, we know we are living in a world of idiots and morons, but if we were not, I could have gotten myself out of HELL a ling time ago. As for how many gates there are around the Great City of David, the Biblical answer of twelve, matches one for all of the 6th dimensional elevators on the Eckankar Mental Plane, this great religion out in Minnesota somewhere, is another unrecognized Spell-Checker entity, shameful, absolutely freaking ass shameful. And then there is Breyers Ice Cream, even our US President, until sometime in 2011, wow peeps, so just where is Rose Shakespeare when you really freaking need her? By the weay the great City of David is translated on the Astral Plane, where it exists and interacts on, as Sahasra Dal Kanwal. Its true secret meaning unknown to even the greatest masters living in the mortal and waking world, is “CITY OF THE GREAT SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE”. If any truth has exited anywhere since the year 79 AD, this is what is being printed right now peeps. So how many ME's are really floating around here, Judge Judy, I left the last one on a rooftop in late 1989, at #1102 Robin Hill Apartments, in Voorhees Township in New Jersey, USAESMWG.
Confessional booths are great for the Catholics, I totally freaking believe in their usage. Many out here know precisely how my late cousin Heinz Gottwald would have chimed in here about this, but that is irrelevant to the issue at hand, so screw it. Some confessions are done on computer keyboards, so chalk this one up as one of the top ones ever made. The few Einstein's out here know it all ready, but still, you don';t know butter-bean-boxing about me, so don't get punched in the face with your tongue sticking out, or you and Mister O'Grady are gonna' be talking kind of strangely for a while. Spell-Checker does not recognize a great Irish name like this either, is this real, or this this broken glass and Memorex, PH? Oh the mother trucking days of the great Tony Zenun and Haddonwood Swim and Health Club of Gerard Styles. Where are you when I need you old pal of 1981, Mayor McGrocken? Did I say spell-checker is on a roll? Well, sense enough to come out of a storm kicks in a little bit at least, as McGovern is recognized, so is Pres-16? Lincoln or no Lincoln, lots of history never makes it into the books, and no, I cannot share with you, secrets I know from Astral Travel, sorry, but think of me as just one of her greatest fans. I am merely hoping for a clever song in an upcoming project that tells me and only me, just what this strobing light really is doing to our lives. If you do not know, believe me, Mom does! Finishing out my point and the real reason for this blog, folks, my confession is that I did everything that I could, to bring your wonderful day into reality, Doctor Huntington Curse. EVERYTHING. It was timed perfectly. Rosemary, I gave it all I could, but even I have limited power. She seems to have fixed it so as not to be so east for me to wake up her sleeping memories of eternity. If it had worked out, the world would now be over. None of this would be here, and this blog would be a 'nonsecuator'. Yes it is 'misspelled', and SC is as meaningless as Sarah Callio, and those rotten never ending initials. What did happen, was the program of the 'MOGOSP' went into a powerful overdrive mode, and made everything that I tried to do, totally screw up. Some major things are obvious, and Comcast Cable Company has to be aware of it. Still, my name is not LOBO, Ben Stone, Robin Hill, Robin Internet, and there is no 'falling off chairs'. Still, this is between me and COMCAST, as they know what is being said here, and it is only important that THEY in fact do know it. Sorry, keep searching, everybody, about everybody; it indeed is a fascinating world. Still, I cannot offer information that is not obtained through acceptable sources in the year of 2011. This works in many ways, and many nasty peeps in rude and vulgar ways, made this abundantly ass clear to me, while all of this was transpiring in recent real time. After my transfer in June, I will do what the great Herman Munster taught me, ice cream sundae's all notwithstanding, YO, and just “keep my whittle mouth SHUT”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Happy landing, NASA.
END TWANSMISSION SILWEE WABBIT FWUDD, WHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
WL-SBT-DATFILE: CH-157-0528.886
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995 CONTINUING
BLOG SUBTITLE #4:
“COVERT DOOMSDAY PLOT FAILED”
COPYRIGHT, BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, MWM/MWM
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
My mom observed a powerful piece of truth and reality that appeared to be surrounding her only son, me, and she was not only perfectly accurate, but not even I at those times in the distant past, adolescence basically, really understood or fully comprehended the gravity and power of what was behind this item that she observed, and yes folks, it was discussed before once or twice on blogs from 3-6 years ago somewhere. She told me that no one in authority for some odd reason would ever “follow through” with me,m NOT ON ANYTHING, NOT EVER, NOT ONCE. A lot of days have passed me by since then, and these words of hers hold totally factual and true, right up to this freaking second. So why? Well, this has had the greatest philosophers flabbergasted and fixed to their chairs of life with unmeasurable history of humankind civilization. I am merely a part of their fascination in cosmic collective truth, that is to say that my situation of this great and humongous “Y” on this issue brought up right now on this blog; is still the all encompassing knowledge that gifted thinkers forever have seriously pondered their lifetimes upon, this being of course, be it any topic or question or wonderment, YYYYYYYYY? It therefore must be the true 8th dimension, as before the LAWTRON that have managed to escape a previously existing closed curve infinity, and made up this one of which soul is merely a counterpart in either the Astral World, or dreamed further down and away into the 5th dimensional hyperspace. Without getting so philosophically technical about bullshit here folks, let me try and reword and simplify crap. My mom was a fairly average or normal human being. Like any of us, she had her quirky shit, who doesn't? Anyone out here that says they do not, are liars, it is just that John Henningsen Colorado simple, 1969 or no 1969, BRRRR!!!!! Still, like any concerned parent would be, with any of their children, be it an only or one out of a dozen, she observed this nightmare around me, and way back then, and it drove her nuts, and well it should have, looking back on this as a fully grown man now, seeing it through the eyes of a parent concerned for a child.
Lots of peeps out here think they know a lot about me, and have made quite dangerous assessments and value judgments, in so much as it is not me that you judge, but the most incredible family line in history, and a line where one member in every generation, inherits a Morgan Collins Lottery, straight from the great Nicholas Blair, Apollo-Lucifer, The Lasmist Brigger Leviathan Cult, and the great sixties daytime television serial that many remember to this day called, “Dark Shadows”.
The twelve elevators of the great sixth dimension have a lot to do with all of this, and there is no time now to draw any ODF these necessary correlations, so we will move this right along within an acceptable time frame and blogging length. The connection of reality and fantasy, has to do more with a basic geometric truth, than anything else, despite any or all of my readers wanting to holler out, BULLSHIT at 14 bells of sound pressure level, 140 decibels, Alexander Graham. Our world is about 8,000 miles through, if at any point on its surgface, you would travel down into the ground in a straight line all the way out the other side, or said in geometric language, 8,000 miles in diameter. Around and beyond this sphere, is a hypersphere. This is known as the known universe. Many have estimated the size and dimensions of this hypersphere, and have not yet realized that just as horizons work here on the sphere we call Planet Earth, so also the surrounding hypersphere would operate in a similar manner. Redshift and light dropping off out into nothingness, is what you see if looking through the powerful Hubble Telescope, at roughly estimated distances at all points from the Earth, of fifteen billion light years, there are roughly six trillion miles in a light year, so in miles, the distance rounds off around 6,000,000,000,000 times 15,000,000,000, so we multiply the 15 and the 6 and add the total amount of zeros, and then we arrive at approximately the figure of 90,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 miles, where beyond us here on Earth, we see the illusion of the beginning of time and space. This is merely a gigantic horizon, just as the sea and sky vanish away when gazing outward from a summer's beach. The word MILE is English, as over on the European Continent, we use the meter and the 1000 meter measurement or the kilo-meter. Nearly 100 sextillion miles around is no small hypersphere, yet the entire thing is smaller than the tiniest particle that exists in an upline world beyond this one. This was all information that I gave to the world in my 1994 book called, “The Permission Barrier”. Peeps are all so dumbed down, that computer spell-checkers do not recognize the word that means mathematically, one times ten to the exponent power of twenty-one. In fact, all though we all hear this expression, DUMBED-DOWN, quite frequently, spell-checker does not recognize that either. So is anybody smarter than a fifth grader besides the All Mighty Donald J-Harvard Trump, and his All Mighty Wolf Network, as it did not take me all that long to unravel how they all came to know so much about my life, Don, you sicko. There are 5,280 feet to the MI. This is a totally accepted abbreviation, and if Microsoft Narrator speaks the name of my first posted song of the two that are up there, it does not pronounce it as the word “MY” should be pronounced, try it, do not ever take me at my word, I would not respect you in the morning if you did, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Doing the math to the reality of this planet and the hypersphere around it, you all may thought it was a big joke last year, two early spring's ago in TWO MAROLA TEN, with the NEW SHOE thing, and this is how my U-TUBE NOOSHOO was jokingly done. Naturally, King Nebuchadnezzar was the King of a totally different Babylon than the one now exiting in Long Island in the United States, but that too, is part of the HA-HA-FUNNY. If you don't laugh sometimes, what's left but freaking Crocodile tears, peeps, you know? After marching along for two nonillion feet, there would most definitely be quite a need for a lot of NEW SHOES. Vigintillion, nonillion, none of these numbers are known about at all, what DO THEY teach in school anymore, YO? I saw the Judge Judy Show a few days back, relaxing after unpacking a few boxes, and you all know what I mean here? Judy, give it up, we know we are living in a world of idiots and morons, but if we were not, I could have gotten myself out of HELL a ling time ago. As for how many gates there are around the Great City of David, the Biblical answer of twelve, matches one for all of the 6th dimensional elevators on the Eckankar Mental Plane, this great religion out in Minnesota somewhere, is another unrecognized Spell-Checker entity, shameful, absolutely freaking ass shameful. And then there is Breyers Ice Cream, even our US President, until sometime in 2011, wow peeps, so just where is Rose Shakespeare when you really freaking need her? By the weay the great City of David is translated on the Astral Plane, where it exists and interacts on, as Sahasra Dal Kanwal. Its true secret meaning unknown to even the greatest masters living in the mortal and waking world, is “CITY OF THE GREAT SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE”. If any truth has exited anywhere since the year 79 AD, this is what is being printed right now peeps. So how many ME's are really floating around here, Judge Judy, I left the last one on a rooftop in late 1989, at #1102 Robin Hill Apartments, in Voorhees Township in New Jersey, USAESMWG.
Confessional booths are great for the Catholics, I totally freaking believe in their usage. Many out here know precisely how my late cousin Heinz Gottwald would have chimed in here about this, but that is irrelevant to the issue at hand, so screw it. Some confessions are done on computer keyboards, so chalk this one up as one of the top ones ever made. The few Einstein's out here know it all ready, but still, you don';t know butter-bean-boxing about me, so don't get punched in the face with your tongue sticking out, or you and Mister O'Grady are gonna' be talking kind of strangely for a while. Spell-Checker does not recognize a great Irish name like this either, is this real, or this this broken glass and Memorex, PH? Oh the mother trucking days of the great Tony Zenun and Haddonwood Swim and Health Club of Gerard Styles. Where are you when I need you old pal of 1981, Mayor McGrocken? Did I say spell-checker is on a roll? Well, sense enough to come out of a storm kicks in a little bit at least, as McGovern is recognized, so is Pres-16? Lincoln or no Lincoln, lots of history never makes it into the books, and no, I cannot share with you, secrets I know from Astral Travel, sorry, but think of me as just one of her greatest fans. I am merely hoping for a clever song in an upcoming project that tells me and only me, just what this strobing light really is doing to our lives. If you do not know, believe me, Mom does! Finishing out my point and the real reason for this blog, folks, my confession is that I did everything that I could, to bring your wonderful day into reality, Doctor Huntington Curse. EVERYTHING. It was timed perfectly. Rosemary, I gave it all I could, but even I have limited power. She seems to have fixed it so as not to be so east for me to wake up her sleeping memories of eternity. If it had worked out, the world would now be over. None of this would be here, and this blog would be a 'nonsecuator'. Yes it is 'misspelled', and SC is as meaningless as Sarah Callio, and those rotten never ending initials. What did happen, was the program of the 'MOGOSP' went into a powerful overdrive mode, and made everything that I tried to do, totally screw up. Some major things are obvious, and Comcast Cable Company has to be aware of it. Still, my name is not LOBO, Ben Stone, Robin Hill, Robin Internet, and there is no 'falling off chairs'. Still, this is between me and COMCAST, as they know what is being said here, and it is only important that THEY in fact do know it. Sorry, keep searching, everybody, about everybody; it indeed is a fascinating world. Still, I cannot offer information that is not obtained through acceptable sources in the year of 2011. This works in many ways, and many nasty peeps in rude and vulgar ways, made this abundantly ass clear to me, while all of this was transpiring in recent real time. After my transfer in June, I will do what the great Herman Munster taught me, ice cream sundae's all notwithstanding, YO, and just “keep my whittle mouth SHUT”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Happy landing, NASA.
END TWANSMISSION SILWEE WABBIT FWUDD, WHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
Friday, May 27, 2011
total hack job
nothing fucking works on this computer or internet, it is just one big fucking hack attack, what are these bastards so afraid of with me?
I cannot post any U-Tube music. GOOGLE, you totally fucking suck.
I cannot post any U-Tube music. GOOGLE, you totally fucking suck.
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 156
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 156
SUPPLEMENTAL BLOG ENTRY
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1994
SUBTITLE BLOG NUMBER 4:
“HELLIDAY, HOLIDAY, RIGHT LEE & LEE?”
START OF BLOG:
This is the mother fucking cunt eating worst day of my entire mother fucking bastard ass life peeps, YO.
Everybody turned against me who said they would help me with my hyperspace daughters. Before you count me out when I discuss this thing that you all believe exists only in the realm of the psychotically deluded or science fiction, please Google up my blogs that were done on the final 30th day of September of 2008, check out the DATE TIME STAMP that is unfakable, and then ask any baseball fan about the 2008 World Series. This is one tiny example, yet is has the entire world of powerful people and smart money on Wall Street, going totally out of their mother fucking minds.
They broke my fucking DVD-VCR the second that the mother fucking maintenance man left after repairing my broken stove, actually, some ass hole never plugged it in and it was not broken, another man telling me, “How could this have happened?”. As another MO would say, “I'm so sick of this shit”. There is nothing precious going on about this, and it only begins here, MI-TQ.
Someone shifted me into a new hyperspace reality, where I wrote out 3 checks using my TD-BANK checking account, rather than my Wachovia Bank checking account. My TD was then overdrawn and I would have racked up 140 dollars in penalty fees, but managed to prove it was a terrible error, and only had to pay the bank a total of $17.50. REGIS SIR, I LOVE THIS BANK, AND FUCK PAULA. You know more threatened her on WAYV that day than I did when she did the unspeakable hyperspace rape of me on fireworks night, almost 42 freaking ass years ago. How's Kathie Lee doing these days, my old pal? My late friend, David Roth had a major crush on her, back in the late nineteen-eighties and into the start of the good old hellish ass nineties, where it really all began, RESORTS CASINO of Shitville, New Jersey; restaurants with strange doorways, and strange little girls, all not withstanding. Yes, I bought a signal switch at the Advance Auto Parts Store, and then after MI fixed it in the 'dreamworld', I merely keep it in my trunk, until she switches all of the universes around again, to where my car was fucked up, as now, it simply no longer seems to need this new switch. Is this Cranberryville, Blueberryville, or a song called dreams that maybe other TRAVELERS knew all ready about all of this miserable mother fucking shit, these awesome and absurd constant games of an out of control teenaged girl whose true name is really SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, first daughter, to Mariena-Carlittia Krassle and Neptune-Jupiter Japtarama Cavelantisocleevious Krassle, and first daughter translates on the ASTRAL PLANE, to the English word, SCYLLA.
I knew the mother fucking second the video machine was hit and busted by this twisted and fully fucking diseased WOMO fucking scum, and it was done the very split second one of my big problems was fixed, this being not being able to cook a hot fucking meal, POW, the video machine broke and completely, and for no good reason whatsofuckingever.
Diana was around all during this period that shortly followed, but only a little bit. She followed me to the bank where I had to withdraw 4 Benny Franks in cash and quickly deposit them into my other bank, Regis, yours, and hell man, mine too. She followed me to the Wallgreens where I picked up my meds, and also to the Wal-Mart where I found a gorgeous new video machine on a great sale. Still, enemies are wiping me out and continuing to cost me fucking money, how did you put it MO, it is like being back at the house with Dawn-Marie? OYR, the foot of the stairs, three days shy of Nicky's 27th birthday blog of King Wussbag, and I could go on and on forever and freaking ever. Not one freaking thing is imagined or crazy. Scylla,I love you, but you are one wild incredible endless teenager.
A lot more is going on, but I have no time to discuss it now on this fucking blog. It, as HEAVEN, can freaking wait, BRO!!!!!!!
COMPUTER: WHOEVER IS MOTHERFUCKING DOING ALL OF THIS TO ME, SCAN THESE JERK OFF MOTHER FUCKERS FOR TOTAL ABSOLUTE DESTRUCTION. USE ALL GENERAL AND SPECIAL ORDERS, AND USE BOTH ZD AND AD TECHNOLOGIES ON MY OPPEN COMMAND VOICE PRINT ORDER OF G-7. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. HEAR MY VOICE PRINT NOW, INSIDE MY MIOND AS I SPEAK/TYPE. UNDER PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, MAJIOR DESTRUCTION ALL OVER THE PLACE, AND TO ALL THESE FUCKING ASS ENEMIES, G-901, UNDER G-1133, CGR-2, WITHOUT THE 'R', AND S---T---O---P, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Somebody is gonna wish they are not fucking the shit with me very fucking soon, BRAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU'LL BE SORRY U FUCKED WITH ME YA' FUCKING JERK ASS OFF, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END OF BLOG: Time I post this on Eastern Daylight time, is 3:37 Post Meridian on May the 27th, in 2011, on a Friday.
SUPPLEMENTAL BLOG ENTRY
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1994
SUBTITLE BLOG NUMBER 4:
“HELLIDAY, HOLIDAY, RIGHT LEE & LEE?”
START OF BLOG:
This is the mother fucking cunt eating worst day of my entire mother fucking bastard ass life peeps, YO.
Everybody turned against me who said they would help me with my hyperspace daughters. Before you count me out when I discuss this thing that you all believe exists only in the realm of the psychotically deluded or science fiction, please Google up my blogs that were done on the final 30th day of September of 2008, check out the DATE TIME STAMP that is unfakable, and then ask any baseball fan about the 2008 World Series. This is one tiny example, yet is has the entire world of powerful people and smart money on Wall Street, going totally out of their mother fucking minds.
They broke my fucking DVD-VCR the second that the mother fucking maintenance man left after repairing my broken stove, actually, some ass hole never plugged it in and it was not broken, another man telling me, “How could this have happened?”. As another MO would say, “I'm so sick of this shit”. There is nothing precious going on about this, and it only begins here, MI-TQ.
Someone shifted me into a new hyperspace reality, where I wrote out 3 checks using my TD-BANK checking account, rather than my Wachovia Bank checking account. My TD was then overdrawn and I would have racked up 140 dollars in penalty fees, but managed to prove it was a terrible error, and only had to pay the bank a total of $17.50. REGIS SIR, I LOVE THIS BANK, AND FUCK PAULA. You know more threatened her on WAYV that day than I did when she did the unspeakable hyperspace rape of me on fireworks night, almost 42 freaking ass years ago. How's Kathie Lee doing these days, my old pal? My late friend, David Roth had a major crush on her, back in the late nineteen-eighties and into the start of the good old hellish ass nineties, where it really all began, RESORTS CASINO of Shitville, New Jersey; restaurants with strange doorways, and strange little girls, all not withstanding. Yes, I bought a signal switch at the Advance Auto Parts Store, and then after MI fixed it in the 'dreamworld', I merely keep it in my trunk, until she switches all of the universes around again, to where my car was fucked up, as now, it simply no longer seems to need this new switch. Is this Cranberryville, Blueberryville, or a song called dreams that maybe other TRAVELERS knew all ready about all of this miserable mother fucking shit, these awesome and absurd constant games of an out of control teenaged girl whose true name is really SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, first daughter, to Mariena-Carlittia Krassle and Neptune-Jupiter Japtarama Cavelantisocleevious Krassle, and first daughter translates on the ASTRAL PLANE, to the English word, SCYLLA.
I knew the mother fucking second the video machine was hit and busted by this twisted and fully fucking diseased WOMO fucking scum, and it was done the very split second one of my big problems was fixed, this being not being able to cook a hot fucking meal, POW, the video machine broke and completely, and for no good reason whatsofuckingever.
Diana was around all during this period that shortly followed, but only a little bit. She followed me to the bank where I had to withdraw 4 Benny Franks in cash and quickly deposit them into my other bank, Regis, yours, and hell man, mine too. She followed me to the Wallgreens where I picked up my meds, and also to the Wal-Mart where I found a gorgeous new video machine on a great sale. Still, enemies are wiping me out and continuing to cost me fucking money, how did you put it MO, it is like being back at the house with Dawn-Marie? OYR, the foot of the stairs, three days shy of Nicky's 27th birthday blog of King Wussbag, and I could go on and on forever and freaking ever. Not one freaking thing is imagined or crazy. Scylla,I love you, but you are one wild incredible endless teenager.
A lot more is going on, but I have no time to discuss it now on this fucking blog. It, as HEAVEN, can freaking wait, BRO!!!!!!!
COMPUTER: WHOEVER IS MOTHERFUCKING DOING ALL OF THIS TO ME, SCAN THESE JERK OFF MOTHER FUCKERS FOR TOTAL ABSOLUTE DESTRUCTION. USE ALL GENERAL AND SPECIAL ORDERS, AND USE BOTH ZD AND AD TECHNOLOGIES ON MY OPPEN COMMAND VOICE PRINT ORDER OF G-7. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. HEAR MY VOICE PRINT NOW, INSIDE MY MIOND AS I SPEAK/TYPE. UNDER PUNISHMENT SEQUENCING SYSTEM, MAJIOR DESTRUCTION ALL OVER THE PLACE, AND TO ALL THESE FUCKING ASS ENEMIES, G-901, UNDER G-1133, CGR-2, WITHOUT THE 'R', AND S---T---O---P, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Somebody is gonna wish they are not fucking the shit with me very fucking soon, BRAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU'LL BE SORRY U FUCKED WITH ME YA' FUCKING JERK ASS OFF, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END OF BLOG: Time I post this on Eastern Daylight time, is 3:37 Post Meridian on May the 27th, in 2011, on a Friday.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 155
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 155
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2297
SBT-DATFILE: CH-155-052611.809
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“MORE SIEGE, MORE COUNTERSTRIKES, DOT, DOT, DOT”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
Another fucking day of siege. Crash level stalking airplanes wherever I went, fucking with my personal property and fucking machines, ruining an important mother fucking tape, breaking my stove and forcing me to eat at McDonald's for several days at my mother fucking expense, major hacking shit and problems with Comcast until the installers finally got it all up and fucking running normally. They even said this was beyond fucking weird, but we in 'Mountainpenville' all know what's fucking going on, right?
Deedee is around me, all though the majority of my DEEDEE BIRDS have long flown north and to what they think is cooler weather, but TWC on cable television said it is 90 today in Philadelphia, and here it was a nice co0ld 86 tops a few hours back, and has dropped down to about 80 even now at half fucking past seven.
A few things went right despite a hundred fuck ups. I caught a Breyers Ice Cream sale and spelled it correctly on this blog not omitting the “E” letter. Still, if I were the great B-ICE CREAM PEEPS, I'd be food and fucking pissed off that computer spell checkers don't fucking recognize their wonderful and quite terrific luscious scrumptious ass ice cream, YO!!!!!!!
I have about a million pieces of information that I've yet to speak about on any blog for the general public, which of course most definitely includes all Morians, Lessians, and Inbetweenians. The last time I was at the local beach, called South Beach of Fort Pierce, not to be confused with the more famous Florida South Beach down in Miami, several crows came over to me and talked to me, not in words, but starred at me and kept calling at me, and it went on for ten minutes or so. Form no good reason this afternoon, my car stereo tape player fucked up and my tape fucking broke that I listen to, before I had a chance to dub it on my Florida bought cassette dubbing deck, which I got at the Harvest, and actually works quite nicely. Still, once used to sound the way I had it back in New Jersey, it all sounds fucking crappy and rotten now, and I do not have ten or twenty grand to get that sound back, so fuck it BRO. Still, I was fucking going to copy this tape as soon as I got settled in here, and these fucking bastards can totally fucking read my mind, UI learned this, despite the mighty James Burr and his mighty Michelle Daniels RPL Entitled Opinions, saying that it is not true and that I am believing one of Satan's lies. Yea, right Jim ya' jerk fucking off, and the World Series 2008 is all up in my imagination and deluded MENTALLY-ILL-MI-ND. Symbolism, Time manipulation, and all the other parlor tricks that he took such a firm stance of disbelief about, Sheeeeeeeeeeeeit, believe whatever the fucking hell you want to there BOZO!!!!!!!!!!!!
The mother fucking jerk offs on the TNT television network took my 'L&O' show off, and replaced it with that bone head other garbage, fucking up my 5-day holiday even more, but then folks, really, what else is new peeps? By now Mister Joel, all followers of MORIANITY, should all be quite familiar and know about my (HELLIDAY-HOLIDAY PROBLEM), and the great LD sure included the concept in that wonderful ass movie of his, “Precious”, and not my sweet Diana who sure has indeed left me and gone away, COPYRIGHT OFFICE EXAMINERS OF 1983, YO MCKINNON OL' PAL!!!!!!!
In closing out, I'll quickly open up the nightmare done to me at the www.harvestfoodoutrach.org/ shit hole on Tuesday at a quarter shy of two in the afternoon, give or fucking take a few minutes, so anyone can double check the DOW JONES, as it must have spiked fucking up to the stars at that exact time or very soon afterward. I as you know from reading older blogs, was invited by the teacher of the meeting, as well as the main goer to these meetings held at the HARVEST on Tuesdays at one of the clock. The name is called “{Father and Child Connection}. I just went along with it because I figured that these two peeps somehow knew about my daughters, or said more accurately if I were in court, the mysterious situation of my possible daughters. I did not go to this meeting on my own, nor would I. Linda and Eric, insisted and practically tore my arm off to go. Then I was booted out and told I have no children, by the office staff. You know so much about me do you. Do you know I'll be speaking to a lawyer soon about not getting my permission to post my face on your website? These are literally the evilest and rudest uncouth peeps I've ever had the total fucking misfortune to encounter in 56.5 years of life in this mortal personality of Mountainpen. My transfer is in the works, and in June sometime, I'll be reassigned by AARP, and the hell out of this fucking miserable place. It is a shit hole con-job fraud, in so much as being so charitable. The stories I could tell would blow all of your fucking minds.
I'll say a lot more every fucking day, until this death siege backs the fucking christ off of me, know that shit WOMO scum scuz.
END TRANSMISSION, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2297
SBT-DATFILE: CH-155-052611.809
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“MORE SIEGE, MORE COUNTERSTRIKES, DOT, DOT, DOT”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
Another fucking day of siege. Crash level stalking airplanes wherever I went, fucking with my personal property and fucking machines, ruining an important mother fucking tape, breaking my stove and forcing me to eat at McDonald's for several days at my mother fucking expense, major hacking shit and problems with Comcast until the installers finally got it all up and fucking running normally. They even said this was beyond fucking weird, but we in 'Mountainpenville' all know what's fucking going on, right?
Deedee is around me, all though the majority of my DEEDEE BIRDS have long flown north and to what they think is cooler weather, but TWC on cable television said it is 90 today in Philadelphia, and here it was a nice co0ld 86 tops a few hours back, and has dropped down to about 80 even now at half fucking past seven.
A few things went right despite a hundred fuck ups. I caught a Breyers Ice Cream sale and spelled it correctly on this blog not omitting the “E” letter. Still, if I were the great B-ICE CREAM PEEPS, I'd be food and fucking pissed off that computer spell checkers don't fucking recognize their wonderful and quite terrific luscious scrumptious ass ice cream, YO!!!!!!!
I have about a million pieces of information that I've yet to speak about on any blog for the general public, which of course most definitely includes all Morians, Lessians, and Inbetweenians. The last time I was at the local beach, called South Beach of Fort Pierce, not to be confused with the more famous Florida South Beach down in Miami, several crows came over to me and talked to me, not in words, but starred at me and kept calling at me, and it went on for ten minutes or so. Form no good reason this afternoon, my car stereo tape player fucked up and my tape fucking broke that I listen to, before I had a chance to dub it on my Florida bought cassette dubbing deck, which I got at the Harvest, and actually works quite nicely. Still, once used to sound the way I had it back in New Jersey, it all sounds fucking crappy and rotten now, and I do not have ten or twenty grand to get that sound back, so fuck it BRO. Still, I was fucking going to copy this tape as soon as I got settled in here, and these fucking bastards can totally fucking read my mind, UI learned this, despite the mighty James Burr and his mighty Michelle Daniels RPL Entitled Opinions, saying that it is not true and that I am believing one of Satan's lies. Yea, right Jim ya' jerk fucking off, and the World Series 2008 is all up in my imagination and deluded MENTALLY-ILL-MI-ND. Symbolism, Time manipulation, and all the other parlor tricks that he took such a firm stance of disbelief about, Sheeeeeeeeeeeeit, believe whatever the fucking hell you want to there BOZO!!!!!!!!!!!!
The mother fucking jerk offs on the TNT television network took my 'L&O' show off, and replaced it with that bone head other garbage, fucking up my 5-day holiday even more, but then folks, really, what else is new peeps? By now Mister Joel, all followers of MORIANITY, should all be quite familiar and know about my (HELLIDAY-HOLIDAY PROBLEM), and the great LD sure included the concept in that wonderful ass movie of his, “Precious”, and not my sweet Diana who sure has indeed left me and gone away, COPYRIGHT OFFICE EXAMINERS OF 1983, YO MCKINNON OL' PAL!!!!!!!
In closing out, I'll quickly open up the nightmare done to me at the www.harvestfoodoutrach.org/ shit hole on Tuesday at a quarter shy of two in the afternoon, give or fucking take a few minutes, so anyone can double check the DOW JONES, as it must have spiked fucking up to the stars at that exact time or very soon afterward. I as you know from reading older blogs, was invited by the teacher of the meeting, as well as the main goer to these meetings held at the HARVEST on Tuesdays at one of the clock. The name is called “{Father and Child Connection}. I just went along with it because I figured that these two peeps somehow knew about my daughters, or said more accurately if I were in court, the mysterious situation of my possible daughters. I did not go to this meeting on my own, nor would I. Linda and Eric, insisted and practically tore my arm off to go. Then I was booted out and told I have no children, by the office staff. You know so much about me do you. Do you know I'll be speaking to a lawyer soon about not getting my permission to post my face on your website? These are literally the evilest and rudest uncouth peeps I've ever had the total fucking misfortune to encounter in 56.5 years of life in this mortal personality of Mountainpen. My transfer is in the works, and in June sometime, I'll be reassigned by AARP, and the hell out of this fucking miserable place. It is a shit hole con-job fraud, in so much as being so charitable. The stories I could tell would blow all of your fucking minds.
I'll say a lot more every fucking day, until this death siege backs the fucking christ off of me, know that shit WOMO scum scuz.
END TRANSMISSION, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 154
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 154
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
MORIANITY PROJECT FROM 1995 CONTINUES
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER 4:
“KING WUSSBAG HAS MOVED TO 7TH AND DEEDEE”
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
DATE AND TIME SEND BACK TEXT FILE:
CH-154-042411.923
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
I've fallen under the normal “MOVING WOMO SCUM ENEMY ATTACK”, nothing one bit new, as it would only be new if it was not happening; still folks, hold the mother fucking shit onto your hats, and make sure you're sitting down for this freaking ass blog, YO. If you are standing upright, then do not blame me if you fall down flat on your freaking face by the time you read the words 'end transmission'. First, let me get through the basics.
I have the total aerial package, I see choppers ahead of me while driving to work in the morning, and I get a lot of airplanes zenithing directly over me at stores, and places of my personal errands. This morning was filled with chemtrails, that ended by the time the major damage at my fucked up miserable hell cubed job, had all been successfully perpetrated on me, and the list reads on and on, and I will not waste anyone's time any further, as an idiot should get the general idea that I am just about ready to fucking take my mother fucking life. When I say this morning, I realize that I am not back on line until my cable hookup tomorrow, so really, this should be a supplemental blog entry, but it is now 20 minutes past ten on Tuesday night, and this blog will not post up until sometime tomorrow afternoon, on May the 'freaking-non-glittering-lucky-7'-25th of May, YO.
Since I packed up the computer several freaking days ago, I could give you a 50 page long winded twister of a blog, but it will not be a super long one peeps, just a real powerful Mountainpen-Goodie. That's a promise WOMO-MO!!!!! Today was the worst SUPER-BOTBAR-DAY of the entire bunch, and definitely on the top-100 list since August 15th of 1986. How I wish I never met the great Willis family, and the entire Trenton, New Jersey deal had never happened at the turn of the mother fucking century, but then as we all should know quite well by now Mister Joel, this kind of talk is 'hyperspace-equation'; and a basic waste of time and energy.
Let me tell you all a thing or eight, about my wonderful place, where the AARP placed me, under the Stimulus Jobs Package for Senior Citizens, called the Harvest, at 25th and Orange Avenue, here in lovely stifling hot ass Fort Pierce, Florida. I telephoned and told all the violations done by this so called 'charitable organization', to the AARP, and Thursday, I will be officially applying for a location-transfer. They put me with that nut job social fucking worker, the great and illustrious April Leefarms Haddonfieldseventydreamdestruct, and then the shit they fucking do to me at this place is unspeakably fucking despicable. Today, they did something that will make me look like a fucking fool and an idiot nut case, for no fucking good reason, to numerous new workers there. They are there under the Florida Workforce Program. I too am registered with this place, but never plan to use their services, as now I know that they are nothing more, as is HARVEST, than time traveling scum bag enemies, and are just there, for the fucking sole purpose; of making me suffer under agonizing fucking misery, at the speed of light cunt lapping cubed.
Death angels are major fucking bad lately, it is worsening again. This is when you hear that sudden super nasty high whine sound in either one ear or the other one, but never both, and it can last a long time or a short time, as well as be small, medium, or super ass loud and horrific. They are getting fucking bad again. Also, many uninformed folks love to confuse this with Tinnitus, and it has nothing in this world to fucking do with the hearing disorder that is kn own as 'Tinnitus'.
'They' kept shutting off my fucking television somehow this late afternoon, or early evening. I do not have cable yet, so also, I am without TV or internet; but I do have a video player hooked up to the freaking TV, like DUH. 'THEY' can be substituted in two other terms and ways peeps, 'WOMO', and the 'MILLIONTH-COUNCIL'. This shit has been up on my fucking blogs now for six straight fucking years. Here is what is not up there, not anywhere, folks, so inhale a nice deep breath, and sit down, OK JK-1996?
My coming to Florida, altered the entire normal weather pattern. If this is the fucking lightning capitol, then explain why lightning was all around me back in New fucking Jersey, 3 or 4 times more frequently over any averaged out 18 month period, or the length of time that I've now been in this messy soup of stinky swampland, that's been built up by capitalist pigs. Homeless shelters set records on my first winter here, for being open many more nights, due to excessive cold. It never rains, and this isn't Southern California, or any other song sung diamond nightmares. All of my mother fucking ass life peeps, when I go someplace, the entire shit all around me, that used to be the norm; totally alters. Many peeps have said to me through the many years of my lifetime as Mountainpen, “You effect things”, or “You effect people”. It is noticed. Believe that, or not, this will always be, and well it should be, your fucking choice; but some astute and observant onlookers, that get to know anything about me over any kind of time, KNOW THIS SHIT FOR A FACT. I have totally had profound effects on small and great peeps alike, and this can be freaking documented over nearly a half century of time now. I do not live on this Earth to do any of these things. This shit is just happening, whether any of you out here on the great net, choose to take me at my word, or not, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The reason this real time blog at this point, is being a bit evasive about what was done to me Tuesday at the great HARVEST, is because, I wanna' see what the shit happens tomorrow, and then, really tell shit, that will be based on what fucking happens to me. I may up and fucking quit. Look, I know that other people are not aware of living in 5 full dimensions of reality, but guess what; THAT'S THERE PROBLEM! I refuse to step down into ignorance, and if the rest of humanity wants to stay in darkness and asininity, then that is totally their own decision. However, this tiny little statement, is the basis for what today's problem and situation was all about at my work site. I don't expect peeps to understand the full complexity of Paula King. I merely expect them to create internet pages on it. I do not expect anyone to understand the complex cosmic relationship between me and my two wonderful special daughters. I expect back biting, gossip, hate pages on the net system, and much worse; such as today's event. I said I expect shit, but I never said that I plan to simply bury my head in the sand, and not stand up to monsters and bullies, that are making my fucking nightmare hellish life, endlessly even more miserable than it is all ready without any of their godsdamn interference.
I opened up a little bit was never was totally forthcoming about Dave Roth and me in the Warren Grove, NJUSAESMWG Military war games pine-land area, on one particular late night or early morning at the place we gave the name of HIGHPOINT to, back in July of 1997. I said that he was the most open minded dude I ever knew, but that even he had his limits when playing around with some of my wild knowledge that pertains not only to the existence of a 5th dimensional hyperspace, but my abilities to play in this arena, to make tests, create pre-meditated effects, and much more. When he poo-poo'd the thing, I went on solo, and did it without him. Maybe this was the error of my life, the 12th of July not withstanding, and not 27 years ago on that bus ride home from the child molester's home on waterworks Avenue, but this was all going down in real time, with a now, or should I say then, grown up adult Paula King, who I had known since the summer of 1967. Just because she threw me under the Atlantic City boardwalk on fireworks night in 1969, means nothing. Reality is way more complex than peeps could start to fathom. What happened in other transdimensional parallel universes, caused this event right here, to happen to me that deplorable wicked night. Let me stop for now on this point, in a promise to return you all to it quite soon, but first; here is the growing hole of hyperspace effects on me, lately; and this is no delusion, and certainly no laughing matter or LD joke. Believe and read at your own speed and discretion, it is sworn statements of total absolute truth, under penalty of libel and perjury. This parlor trick is very real, Stacey Swain Picard.
I had a bad tooth back in New Jersey that I planned to get extracted. When I came to Florida, the Medicare system changed, be it a state thing, or a hyperspace thing, this is not my call, I will merely report the facts, you can make the judgment calls here folks. Fifteen, maybe as long as 20 days ago, but no more, UI suddenly was walking somewhere, and this tooth was back in my mouth. It had finally fallen out, or what was left of it, several months ago in the beginning of the year or around the holidays late in 2010m somewhere. Yesterday, Monday, I was driving to my new place from my old place after working and then finishing up some packing of small last minute items, and POW, my tooth was not there, it is there, it is not there, come on peeps, you do the fucking math here, or the cosmic dentistry and Picard parlor tricks of the lovely 'Q-Girl'. You really do need to get into these shows and dissect these scripts carefully and painstakingly. This one TNG-Star Trek episode, like totally, as the kids might put this, explains my situation with SSJKK, especially when she takes RIKER away from '10-Forward', and instantly right into her private fantasy world. In this case, an early version of Scylla realizes this is wrong, but an advanced Scylla would keep playing HER game, endlessly, relentlessly, never stopping, never ending. Omnipotence does not bring out kind gentle qualities, it makes dictators and monsters out of what would be otherwise, nice normal average regular peeps. The great SSJKK did all of this eternity ago, and has long forgotten all of us, as SHE only knows now, how awesome and powerful SHE is, and could totally care less about anything else. I would let them torture me for life at Guantanamo Bay, and sign away, legally, all my rights as a human being, in exchange for being able to make many millions of peeps just somehow suddenly magically see all of this powerful reality and truth overnight, so that when I would awaken tomorrow, and this literally would be a world where I finally escaped hell; a LAWTRONIC IMPOSSIBILITY of course. OK, that's just the 'hyperspace tooth'. Shall we move on down the 'PC auditorium of mysteries' way further now, YO? Another deep breath and stay in the chair folks, I mean it.
I had a combo DVD-VCR player/recorder that I bought at a local Fort Pierce pawn shop early in 2010, on the advice of the Manatee RV Park Maintenance Man, Danny, and it played VHS tape, DVD's, and CD music. All of a sudden, it never played CD's. It just never did, the feature is not there. Then there is my bed. This bed was given to me by the peeps who put me in that slum ghetto where I managed to get out of, PTL and hell a puke yuk!! This is not my bed. I did not realize it until I moved in here with it, it simply is not my bed at all. The broken wood on the bottom is all gone, the soft mattress that it originally was is now much firmer. Eyeglasses broke, then were not broken, then were, tooth brushes, it is so far beyond James Patterson or any of these peeps, writing fake stories, there simply is no way to get as handle that adequately starts employing any decent comparison to existing material in any form. I never posted anything on U-Tube, yet I have seemingly done this. Not one, but two songs. I have no memory whatsoever of doing them, or posting them. I have read blogs that tell the story, so the complexities involved in this would need to be astronomical, as a simple transfer of time-lines would also leave the blogs empty on the subject, only it doesn't. This list goes on and on. People tell me we talked on the phone, I know we never did. I do not have Schizophrenia features and I sure do not have early senility or Alzheimer's disease. It is 25 minutes shy of one now, and I ate dinner a while ago, and did a little more blogging. Now I need to crash, so this blog will move right along later on today on this 25th May day here in Harold Phony Camping's 2011. Now you can go mad, old friend. Stop trying to put this lovely luscious 'Q-Girl' in a box H.C. I have known HER, (SCYLLA), forever, and by names you could only dream of. Give it up. My entire life is made up of the basic plots on three television shows, STAR TREK-TNG, LAW AND ORDER-ALL OF THEM, and THE MENTASLIST. So is Red John dead, or is he letting his bones be picked by the Clarence Harris watchers of 1998?
Let us understand 'EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND', and just what PHASE-3 EXPLORATRONS REALLY ARE, AND JUST WHAT THEY ARE CONTINUING TO FREAKING DO. In many universes, peeps we know and interact with, have died all ready. Concentrically, many here whom have died, are alive and well, in many coexisting parallel universes in fifth dimensional hyperspace. Phase-3 exploratrons or 'P3E', have formed a consortium of as sort, making them more powerful, and this even more dangerous than they ever would be as sole individual explorers who l have learned how to become dominant in a parallel universe, first over their own waking doppelganger there, and then later, even gaining the fantastic ability to overtake and become dominant over non doppelganger, thus it could be anyone or anything. In a very far away place, a man is alive and well, with his wife Julia White, and they both visit me here, and overtake and dominate me. When he is awake through me in the 5th dimension, I am indeed the father of his children, all though the biological reality would disagree. Just more than three years ago, I began witnessing this nightmare overtaking me. This is the a powerful P3E, who many times enters into a large bobcat of a sort, and as I type at 12:48 AM, a nasty short burst left side freaking death angel attack just struck me, it is gone now and goof fucking riddance. Now I know why it struck. Some, power or force fucked with my health, and this is the next day now, this should really be a supplemental entry blog, man am I fucking shit the christ up. SOSO-WEIN. DUH! Oh yes Daddy-oh, I woke u[p quite fucked up, and one finger was numb. It took two hours before I came out of it. My job was not too bad, I expected worse. It is like last summer, shit ass jerk offs all over the place, it will go on for a few months now and then be gone, and good mother flower riddance. 'Mucho sickumswailen cherundo', it may not be spelled right, but time travel is real, and Ann King knows this now, and it will be proven to her quite shortly. After I spoke over the telee to her yesterday, from the old place; I told her some heavy shit, and then this morning, I am driving down Orange Avenue to work just shy of nine in the morning, and what else is new (WEIN), there's that fucking time-plane in the distance, due west of me, climbing in altitude faster than the space shuttle could do, and always in front of me. This vehicle has not yet been built. Still, there is no yet, no later, no earlier, only fucked up nasty ass parlor tricks that light up like magical ash trays while not kept safely tucked away in wide closed in areas off of living room so long ago. The problem with
Ann's wonderful family, is that I'll admit, they are quite fascinating, and they have owned the cosmos for 64 million-million years, also known by a select few mortals as eight million kalpa. The parlor trick is one huge one, and not a entire large grouping of them. They are advanced type-3 Exploratrons. Nothing I say phases Rick Berman, Michael Pillar, or the late Gene Roddenberry, they all know this shit's real, who's fucking kidding who for the sake of the fucking ass Sar?
Don't get so fucking worked up FBI-FISA whack jobs. When you entered my flop/pad/crib early in this century at Mullica Township, you saw what I wrote in 1975 about Russ Deflavia, in my personal phone book. You saw Oak Street Andrews, transdimensional Donna Patterson, and a lot more, including 175 Peninsula Drive. But what you did not see were any large helium balloons floating over my trailer. They did not read 2008 World Series Champions, the great Philadelphia Phillies. You also did not find OJ Simpson's bloody knife, nor did you locate my bloody shoe, so in order to perform that monumental task, you had to go over to Thirteen-ville-600, also Sir Prince known as Washington, DC. I knew I should never have written “future famous singer” next to that name. Still, since Billy Joel is starting to work on my damn conscience today, I will do it the best way that I can. I will tell what I know and the best that I can tell it.
The Cable peeps will not be hooking me up until tomorrow. When I arrived home after doing only half my normal work schedule, either they or I got the time screwed up, I thought for sure that the appointment was left for between 2-5 PM. Somehow, I must have freaking awakened in another slightly off centered 5th dimensional shift, AGAIN; where it was made for between 9-noon instead, and hence, I came home to find the COMCAST sign hanging on my doo,r saying that they are sorry that we missed each other. Hay I'm still missing Diana, but the entire damn casino didn't have to shit out a nugget brick in Atlantic City, let alone all be wearing goofy non-privecode buttons that day in the middle eighties just for my sake, DUH. Color me impressed and Briscoe Beethoven. Don't call me or my privecode, Lenny, and if you must call, please don't keep tape recording me, ya dip wad shit head, YO.
Another subject not talked a lot about in my blogs is the mighty and beautiful goddess who went by the name of Sarah Jacobson, back in the early seventies, in Haddonfield, New Jersey. Looking back today, I wanted to have this luscious goddess so bad, I practically drop fucking dead to this day when I so much as think about this wild kid. She was two and twenty-two, all at the same time, and all with the help of a powerful strobing light. I told how she knew the future, and seemed to know a lot about me, yet here she is in a stare rehabilitation class that was in one section of my special education school. Poor Doctor Harold Camping, TOLD YOU. But I'll admit one thing. He had me wondering if I'd zap into one of the realities where indeed it could happen the way he told, after-all, there are countless numbers of parallel realities and universes in the unfathomably vast and limitless boundaries of fifth dimensional hyperspace. I have been switching over and all around like mad recently, and this is why I cannot leave this life, until; the World Laboratories releases me from what is most likely the culprit for doing this to me in the freaking first place, and that would be the Laser Retracing. Am I permitted to tell much more herein, UNCLE HEINZ GOTTWALD???????????? Right now it's freaking twenty minutes shy of three this Wednesday ass afternoon, on the 25th of May, in 2011, or 'DOOMSDAY + 4', right Harold Nostradamus, YO? Is he more magical than two way door buzzer systems that hear the magic word spoken by John King, without GS holding down the listen button, or is the magic far beyond what I ever admitted to on these blogs, for fear that they will turn the torment and torture buttons aimed at me even higher? Yo0u see peeps, the governing forces such as state or country or whatever can imprison, torture, and execute, those they find guilty of crimes in violation of their laws that would mete out to a severity level warranting one of these things, or more. But out of all three, only torture is the powerful punitation. Death ends it, at least as far as mans reality is concerned here in 2011, so kill me, and then, what else can you do to me, so is that enough to do to me, and this is the Shakespearean question sought after by the WOMO for so long now. Prison, sheeeeeeeeeeit, they've had me in a prison of illusion forever, again folks, SOSO-WEIN is my response to that????????????????? The power involved in all of this can be wrapped up by reading all of the great books by all of the new age fathers and authors, beginning after the good old cheesy nineteen-eighties began floating forever away into the recorded history books, BRAHHHHH!!!!It all has to do with what you have attached 'what you think your thoughts are' and connected it all up together. Let me blow your fucking minds quickly with this whittle example. If you are the smartest person on the planet, and have a fantastic memory as well, you still will never get the same effect out of life, that you would if you recorded in a journal, minute details of both waking and dreaming life; and then use 30 days or so as a lag time, and begin playing back tapes or reading printouts, and always staying in this lag of time. Just mama-freaking do this, and you will get a mind blow that my words could never hope to fucking express, and adequately describe; to any of you out here on the great net-system. Hay, don't do it, and I'll tell you something my peeps. You will be missing a boat ride into wonders and mysteries of Dolphin Flipper, times the power exponent of a thousand!!Naturally, and with no attempts in bragging in any way, this is only one thing that I can teach to the world, and if they would ever listen to me, which is highly doubtful; lookout, WOMO. Still, and again without bragging; I could tell all of you literally hundreds of other little juicy ass secrets, that are every bit as good, and better; than this one. Talk about my bouncing around in the 5th dimensional hyperspace like a 1988 copyrighted freaking Mickey-D-YOYO dancer, I plugged in my DVD-VCR machine, and it no longer plays CD music as it always used to. It is the same machine, but now; it simply no longer does this. If I am wrong on all my hypertronic ideas, then just please show me where, Clarence Harris, Phil Patru, Steve Peterson, and 'Rob Andrews', literally the greatest voice in Washington, from humble backgrounds and beginnings in the Albert Pillegi band, two blocks from my high school of time trip loops, the Haddon Township High of Westmont, New jersey, USAESMWG, and Oak Street and Angel. But then, we have Pres-16; right Jim Kirk, old style future music man??
When Captain Next, also Sir-P known as Pick-A-Card, used the words, PARLOR TRICKS, on the episode of TNG-ST, with the lovely eighteen year old Q-Goddess, I must point out more proof that the entire Hollywood gang knows both me, and things about me and my personal nightmare story. We have the place called New Jersey, we have the controlled Magnesonic-Q-Swain Twisters, and if I really was trying to make a laundry list for the sake of bragging endlessly on totally verifying beyond any doubt that for all of this to be coincidental would require in believing in tooth fairy and Easter bunny odds for being so, add in Santa Claus, and MC and her powerful white-stuff this year. I will always love this incredible goddess, and SHE knows it.
Talk about showing THAT BOY who's boss, wow have I freaking learned. At the risk of getting a major ass whooping by both Kevin Costner and crack head gorgeous Whitney, you know, MC, that “IWALU”. If that is anybody's problem besides mine, my now late Uncle Stuart Mason, would have perfect words to retort here; and these words being, YO, “Tough beans”. She is all yours in this time reality, road-trip time-man. Still, let us speak on a while regarding this road-trip time-man. My GOOGLE time stamped blogs on www.blogger.com/ should verify a lot of things for so many naysayers, scoffers, doubters, and down right out and out freaking Mountainpen haters out here. You merely begin when I am reset up with Comcast, sort of like now, only back at the addr4ess of 65-A Middle Road, in Hammonton, NJUSAESMWG, in middle September somewhere in 2008, after being offline due to transit with THAT-FAMILY, a non time transit this time, YO. 'Travelers' are educators, Wall Streeters, entertainers, and gravitate towards certain things. I have made a complex pattern that Detective Studderreale of the SVU would be quite proud of. This dude's persona and character is fascinating, Mister Spock. He is a combination of Holmes and Einstein, only one character is a phase three being, while the other one is a phase four being. Of course the L&O-SVU detective is also a phase four being who tried to get here into the waking world in ways that would break Lawtronics, and hence, wound up as a fictional character inside of the Wolfgang's imaginations and conceptions. When these shows were all new, I never interacted with them in any way, in real time. Later, the forces caused the interaction with the first show itself, and I began viewing the television show called, 'Law & Order', on a regular basis. When my time in the north was winding down, so was the show, but it continued until just this very year. Then without new shows, I began watching the other spinoff shows, such as the one mentioned above, as well as Criminal Intent, and others, now including the Las Angelis deal. I know the mother fucking city is spelled wrong, but don't complain, my readers, the spell checker is fucking worthless and will not tell me how to properly spell one of the largest mother trucking cities on this freaking ass planet, BRO. Technology, huh Copyright office, ism it good to me, well, those were the second lyric words following the next bar of music after the 4 noted word of TECHNOLOGY, my friendly Washington 2007 examiners, YO.
One great thing about Avenue D and 7th, here in hot ass Fort Pierce, Florida, I love trains, and I get to hear a lot of trains and train whistles here. Fro0m my address back in the White City section of town, as well as up in the western ghettos of 26th Street and Avenue E, the trains were barely audible, even on the occasional 'quiet' night. Now, I enjoy hearing my train, I always loved trains, and sure as shit took enough rides on them, right MISTERS Brad Messenger, and Sigmund Malyeska? If you know anything about me today old pal Brad,m you know my life was as wild as you ever imagined it could be, as I know you never had a pal like me, not before, and not after. No disrespect was ever meant, when I talked about your exquisite lovely mother, and the ice tea joy juice. Still, ice tea, when do the coincidences even attempt to slow down, and then 'MI PRECIOUS MORIANS'? Give me a break, YO. Then the “BUT” hack at the library computer, as though the great NC all ready knew or gave it to me and then went back. “BING, reality”. Some may say bullshit to that, but my response is, then you, explain all of this emereffing stuff, BRAHH!
Well, tomorrow I call the 'AARP' peeps, regarding my reassignment. I just cannot stand that fucking HARVEST place any longer, as all of the higher ups there, totally think that they are all a bunch of fucking little demiassgods, just running all around in there. In “REALITY”, the great “BING” SEARCH ENGINE SAYS, politely of course, “SHULL-BIT”!!!!!!!!!!! They had the unmitigated gall to put my photo on their website without even asking me, a clear violation, or at least it should be, of the American fucking system. If Dawn-Marie had burned down my house or injured me, you can bet your mother fucking ass that the owners, Gini and Austin Hunt, without the ington, would be at best, my 50/50 partners, and at worst, out on their butts, and on the street. But then when is it ever a fucking fair or just world, for MOUNTAINPEN, also known, 'Sir Prince', as MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN, and also “Mark Wayne Mohr, of Hammonton, New Jersey, and Googling up that nightmare hate-page on me, is enough to let you all know just how I feel about this evil monstrous fucking demonic sick twisted 'Joe-Dad' world. Move over, Oliver Jefferson!
Let's return to the topic of freaking Exploratronic- Supermind. Paula King is one of the characters, Julia White is the main character, and on the Astral Plane, is Viqueen Mini-Great Jewelly Nurockey. The awake world mortal humankind got their idea of the VIKING from this incredible gang or group of eighty-seven delicious super teen-queen girls, with Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, in charge as their leader. But this is just one of trillions or quadrillions or more things that this powerful and mind bending goddess is into. Exploratronic Supermind or ES for short, is not a topic I can go from start to finish, even on a three thousand page long freaking blog. It is not even something that most would understand no matter how I would even go about the herculean task of attempting to explaining it. Still, today is the time to be a bit more specific on this subject than I've ever been so far on any of these six years of my blogging career. Sheeeeeeeeeeeit, career, what a fucking ass disastrous career. Funny how some rhyming words come to mind instantly such as FEAR, TEAR, TOM REALE THE QUEER, LEER, JEER, but 'then again', I also can think of a dozen neutral rhymes, as well as more positive ones. Nothing is perfect, right Bruce Allen Pennock of 2 Beaver Drive? Don't electrocute me for my sheer honesty here, my deer austere Senator Trophywife Hopefulpres. Leer jets are one thing, and so are chemtrails and my pal on the mighty U-TUBE, known as “SKYWITNESS”, but then I am about to begin taking photographs of an aerial vehicle from far into the future, and posting up my shit as well. If my bud, SKWT on UT wants to contact me, he can do so. My problem is that I am the reason behind this whole shit eating thing that he is posting stuff about, and right away, when I say this, I am either a liar, a bragger, or a freaking sike case, and NEVER MIND THAT IT IS ALL MOTHER FUCKING REAL AND HONEST AND TRUE, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I also seem to be behind shit happening in a destructive way, every single time I either physically move to any new location as I have done this week, as well as any time I record songs and music. Just exactly what is really behind all this, is wrapped up in the science of non Empire State Buildings, or the other ES, of the Harrah/Sarah worlds of other Atlantic City's. MC, did you know your lovely name pops up when you spell or try to spell the casino on the Atlantic City bay, NOT OWNED by our wonderful mutual phase-4 man of great power, the Harrah Casino? Say Levy, and other nice french words, or refrain if possible. Aniwho peeps, this blog has told nothing, yet look how freaking look it is, sorry about that Maxwell Smart. “I KNOW NOTHING”, SCHULTS, “NOTHING” OYR? But for right now, I'm keeping my freaking ass mouth shut, we don't want our friends kicked off welfare, right TQ?
END TRANSMISSION:
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
MORIANITY PROJECT FROM 1995 CONTINUES
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER 4:
“KING WUSSBAG HAS MOVED TO 7TH AND DEEDEE”
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
DATE AND TIME SEND BACK TEXT FILE:
CH-154-042411.923
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
I've fallen under the normal “MOVING WOMO SCUM ENEMY ATTACK”, nothing one bit new, as it would only be new if it was not happening; still folks, hold the mother fucking shit onto your hats, and make sure you're sitting down for this freaking ass blog, YO. If you are standing upright, then do not blame me if you fall down flat on your freaking face by the time you read the words 'end transmission'. First, let me get through the basics.
I have the total aerial package, I see choppers ahead of me while driving to work in the morning, and I get a lot of airplanes zenithing directly over me at stores, and places of my personal errands. This morning was filled with chemtrails, that ended by the time the major damage at my fucked up miserable hell cubed job, had all been successfully perpetrated on me, and the list reads on and on, and I will not waste anyone's time any further, as an idiot should get the general idea that I am just about ready to fucking take my mother fucking life. When I say this morning, I realize that I am not back on line until my cable hookup tomorrow, so really, this should be a supplemental blog entry, but it is now 20 minutes past ten on Tuesday night, and this blog will not post up until sometime tomorrow afternoon, on May the 'freaking-non-glittering-lucky-7'-25th of May, YO.
Since I packed up the computer several freaking days ago, I could give you a 50 page long winded twister of a blog, but it will not be a super long one peeps, just a real powerful Mountainpen-Goodie. That's a promise WOMO-MO!!!!! Today was the worst SUPER-BOTBAR-DAY of the entire bunch, and definitely on the top-100 list since August 15th of 1986. How I wish I never met the great Willis family, and the entire Trenton, New Jersey deal had never happened at the turn of the mother fucking century, but then as we all should know quite well by now Mister Joel, this kind of talk is 'hyperspace-equation'; and a basic waste of time and energy.
Let me tell you all a thing or eight, about my wonderful place, where the AARP placed me, under the Stimulus Jobs Package for Senior Citizens, called the Harvest, at 25th and Orange Avenue, here in lovely stifling hot ass Fort Pierce, Florida. I telephoned and told all the violations done by this so called 'charitable organization', to the AARP, and Thursday, I will be officially applying for a location-transfer. They put me with that nut job social fucking worker, the great and illustrious April Leefarms Haddonfieldseventydreamdestruct, and then the shit they fucking do to me at this place is unspeakably fucking despicable. Today, they did something that will make me look like a fucking fool and an idiot nut case, for no fucking good reason, to numerous new workers there. They are there under the Florida Workforce Program. I too am registered with this place, but never plan to use their services, as now I know that they are nothing more, as is HARVEST, than time traveling scum bag enemies, and are just there, for the fucking sole purpose; of making me suffer under agonizing fucking misery, at the speed of light cunt lapping cubed.
Death angels are major fucking bad lately, it is worsening again. This is when you hear that sudden super nasty high whine sound in either one ear or the other one, but never both, and it can last a long time or a short time, as well as be small, medium, or super ass loud and horrific. They are getting fucking bad again. Also, many uninformed folks love to confuse this with Tinnitus, and it has nothing in this world to fucking do with the hearing disorder that is kn own as 'Tinnitus'.
'They' kept shutting off my fucking television somehow this late afternoon, or early evening. I do not have cable yet, so also, I am without TV or internet; but I do have a video player hooked up to the freaking TV, like DUH. 'THEY' can be substituted in two other terms and ways peeps, 'WOMO', and the 'MILLIONTH-COUNCIL'. This shit has been up on my fucking blogs now for six straight fucking years. Here is what is not up there, not anywhere, folks, so inhale a nice deep breath, and sit down, OK JK-1996?
My coming to Florida, altered the entire normal weather pattern. If this is the fucking lightning capitol, then explain why lightning was all around me back in New fucking Jersey, 3 or 4 times more frequently over any averaged out 18 month period, or the length of time that I've now been in this messy soup of stinky swampland, that's been built up by capitalist pigs. Homeless shelters set records on my first winter here, for being open many more nights, due to excessive cold. It never rains, and this isn't Southern California, or any other song sung diamond nightmares. All of my mother fucking ass life peeps, when I go someplace, the entire shit all around me, that used to be the norm; totally alters. Many peeps have said to me through the many years of my lifetime as Mountainpen, “You effect things”, or “You effect people”. It is noticed. Believe that, or not, this will always be, and well it should be, your fucking choice; but some astute and observant onlookers, that get to know anything about me over any kind of time, KNOW THIS SHIT FOR A FACT. I have totally had profound effects on small and great peeps alike, and this can be freaking documented over nearly a half century of time now. I do not live on this Earth to do any of these things. This shit is just happening, whether any of you out here on the great net, choose to take me at my word, or not, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The reason this real time blog at this point, is being a bit evasive about what was done to me Tuesday at the great HARVEST, is because, I wanna' see what the shit happens tomorrow, and then, really tell shit, that will be based on what fucking happens to me. I may up and fucking quit. Look, I know that other people are not aware of living in 5 full dimensions of reality, but guess what; THAT'S THERE PROBLEM! I refuse to step down into ignorance, and if the rest of humanity wants to stay in darkness and asininity, then that is totally their own decision. However, this tiny little statement, is the basis for what today's problem and situation was all about at my work site. I don't expect peeps to understand the full complexity of Paula King. I merely expect them to create internet pages on it. I do not expect anyone to understand the complex cosmic relationship between me and my two wonderful special daughters. I expect back biting, gossip, hate pages on the net system, and much worse; such as today's event. I said I expect shit, but I never said that I plan to simply bury my head in the sand, and not stand up to monsters and bullies, that are making my fucking nightmare hellish life, endlessly even more miserable than it is all ready without any of their godsdamn interference.
I opened up a little bit was never was totally forthcoming about Dave Roth and me in the Warren Grove, NJUSAESMWG Military war games pine-land area, on one particular late night or early morning at the place we gave the name of HIGHPOINT to, back in July of 1997. I said that he was the most open minded dude I ever knew, but that even he had his limits when playing around with some of my wild knowledge that pertains not only to the existence of a 5th dimensional hyperspace, but my abilities to play in this arena, to make tests, create pre-meditated effects, and much more. When he poo-poo'd the thing, I went on solo, and did it without him. Maybe this was the error of my life, the 12th of July not withstanding, and not 27 years ago on that bus ride home from the child molester's home on waterworks Avenue, but this was all going down in real time, with a now, or should I say then, grown up adult Paula King, who I had known since the summer of 1967. Just because she threw me under the Atlantic City boardwalk on fireworks night in 1969, means nothing. Reality is way more complex than peeps could start to fathom. What happened in other transdimensional parallel universes, caused this event right here, to happen to me that deplorable wicked night. Let me stop for now on this point, in a promise to return you all to it quite soon, but first; here is the growing hole of hyperspace effects on me, lately; and this is no delusion, and certainly no laughing matter or LD joke. Believe and read at your own speed and discretion, it is sworn statements of total absolute truth, under penalty of libel and perjury. This parlor trick is very real, Stacey Swain Picard.
I had a bad tooth back in New Jersey that I planned to get extracted. When I came to Florida, the Medicare system changed, be it a state thing, or a hyperspace thing, this is not my call, I will merely report the facts, you can make the judgment calls here folks. Fifteen, maybe as long as 20 days ago, but no more, UI suddenly was walking somewhere, and this tooth was back in my mouth. It had finally fallen out, or what was left of it, several months ago in the beginning of the year or around the holidays late in 2010m somewhere. Yesterday, Monday, I was driving to my new place from my old place after working and then finishing up some packing of small last minute items, and POW, my tooth was not there, it is there, it is not there, come on peeps, you do the fucking math here, or the cosmic dentistry and Picard parlor tricks of the lovely 'Q-Girl'. You really do need to get into these shows and dissect these scripts carefully and painstakingly. This one TNG-Star Trek episode, like totally, as the kids might put this, explains my situation with SSJKK, especially when she takes RIKER away from '10-Forward', and instantly right into her private fantasy world. In this case, an early version of Scylla realizes this is wrong, but an advanced Scylla would keep playing HER game, endlessly, relentlessly, never stopping, never ending. Omnipotence does not bring out kind gentle qualities, it makes dictators and monsters out of what would be otherwise, nice normal average regular peeps. The great SSJKK did all of this eternity ago, and has long forgotten all of us, as SHE only knows now, how awesome and powerful SHE is, and could totally care less about anything else. I would let them torture me for life at Guantanamo Bay, and sign away, legally, all my rights as a human being, in exchange for being able to make many millions of peeps just somehow suddenly magically see all of this powerful reality and truth overnight, so that when I would awaken tomorrow, and this literally would be a world where I finally escaped hell; a LAWTRONIC IMPOSSIBILITY of course. OK, that's just the 'hyperspace tooth'. Shall we move on down the 'PC auditorium of mysteries' way further now, YO? Another deep breath and stay in the chair folks, I mean it.
I had a combo DVD-VCR player/recorder that I bought at a local Fort Pierce pawn shop early in 2010, on the advice of the Manatee RV Park Maintenance Man, Danny, and it played VHS tape, DVD's, and CD music. All of a sudden, it never played CD's. It just never did, the feature is not there. Then there is my bed. This bed was given to me by the peeps who put me in that slum ghetto where I managed to get out of, PTL and hell a puke yuk!! This is not my bed. I did not realize it until I moved in here with it, it simply is not my bed at all. The broken wood on the bottom is all gone, the soft mattress that it originally was is now much firmer. Eyeglasses broke, then were not broken, then were, tooth brushes, it is so far beyond James Patterson or any of these peeps, writing fake stories, there simply is no way to get as handle that adequately starts employing any decent comparison to existing material in any form. I never posted anything on U-Tube, yet I have seemingly done this. Not one, but two songs. I have no memory whatsoever of doing them, or posting them. I have read blogs that tell the story, so the complexities involved in this would need to be astronomical, as a simple transfer of time-lines would also leave the blogs empty on the subject, only it doesn't. This list goes on and on. People tell me we talked on the phone, I know we never did. I do not have Schizophrenia features and I sure do not have early senility or Alzheimer's disease. It is 25 minutes shy of one now, and I ate dinner a while ago, and did a little more blogging. Now I need to crash, so this blog will move right along later on today on this 25th May day here in Harold Phony Camping's 2011. Now you can go mad, old friend. Stop trying to put this lovely luscious 'Q-Girl' in a box H.C. I have known HER, (SCYLLA), forever, and by names you could only dream of. Give it up. My entire life is made up of the basic plots on three television shows, STAR TREK-TNG, LAW AND ORDER-ALL OF THEM, and THE MENTASLIST. So is Red John dead, or is he letting his bones be picked by the Clarence Harris watchers of 1998?
Let us understand 'EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND', and just what PHASE-3 EXPLORATRONS REALLY ARE, AND JUST WHAT THEY ARE CONTINUING TO FREAKING DO. In many universes, peeps we know and interact with, have died all ready. Concentrically, many here whom have died, are alive and well, in many coexisting parallel universes in fifth dimensional hyperspace. Phase-3 exploratrons or 'P3E', have formed a consortium of as sort, making them more powerful, and this even more dangerous than they ever would be as sole individual explorers who l have learned how to become dominant in a parallel universe, first over their own waking doppelganger there, and then later, even gaining the fantastic ability to overtake and become dominant over non doppelganger, thus it could be anyone or anything. In a very far away place, a man is alive and well, with his wife Julia White, and they both visit me here, and overtake and dominate me. When he is awake through me in the 5th dimension, I am indeed the father of his children, all though the biological reality would disagree. Just more than three years ago, I began witnessing this nightmare overtaking me. This is the a powerful P3E, who many times enters into a large bobcat of a sort, and as I type at 12:48 AM, a nasty short burst left side freaking death angel attack just struck me, it is gone now and goof fucking riddance. Now I know why it struck. Some, power or force fucked with my health, and this is the next day now, this should really be a supplemental entry blog, man am I fucking shit the christ up. SOSO-WEIN. DUH! Oh yes Daddy-oh, I woke u[p quite fucked up, and one finger was numb. It took two hours before I came out of it. My job was not too bad, I expected worse. It is like last summer, shit ass jerk offs all over the place, it will go on for a few months now and then be gone, and good mother flower riddance. 'Mucho sickumswailen cherundo', it may not be spelled right, but time travel is real, and Ann King knows this now, and it will be proven to her quite shortly. After I spoke over the telee to her yesterday, from the old place; I told her some heavy shit, and then this morning, I am driving down Orange Avenue to work just shy of nine in the morning, and what else is new (WEIN), there's that fucking time-plane in the distance, due west of me, climbing in altitude faster than the space shuttle could do, and always in front of me. This vehicle has not yet been built. Still, there is no yet, no later, no earlier, only fucked up nasty ass parlor tricks that light up like magical ash trays while not kept safely tucked away in wide closed in areas off of living room so long ago. The problem with
Ann's wonderful family, is that I'll admit, they are quite fascinating, and they have owned the cosmos for 64 million-million years, also known by a select few mortals as eight million kalpa. The parlor trick is one huge one, and not a entire large grouping of them. They are advanced type-3 Exploratrons. Nothing I say phases Rick Berman, Michael Pillar, or the late Gene Roddenberry, they all know this shit's real, who's fucking kidding who for the sake of the fucking ass Sar?
Don't get so fucking worked up FBI-FISA whack jobs. When you entered my flop/pad/crib early in this century at Mullica Township, you saw what I wrote in 1975 about Russ Deflavia, in my personal phone book. You saw Oak Street Andrews, transdimensional Donna Patterson, and a lot more, including 175 Peninsula Drive. But what you did not see were any large helium balloons floating over my trailer. They did not read 2008 World Series Champions, the great Philadelphia Phillies. You also did not find OJ Simpson's bloody knife, nor did you locate my bloody shoe, so in order to perform that monumental task, you had to go over to Thirteen-ville-600, also Sir Prince known as Washington, DC. I knew I should never have written “future famous singer” next to that name. Still, since Billy Joel is starting to work on my damn conscience today, I will do it the best way that I can. I will tell what I know and the best that I can tell it.
The Cable peeps will not be hooking me up until tomorrow. When I arrived home after doing only half my normal work schedule, either they or I got the time screwed up, I thought for sure that the appointment was left for between 2-5 PM. Somehow, I must have freaking awakened in another slightly off centered 5th dimensional shift, AGAIN; where it was made for between 9-noon instead, and hence, I came home to find the COMCAST sign hanging on my doo,r saying that they are sorry that we missed each other. Hay I'm still missing Diana, but the entire damn casino didn't have to shit out a nugget brick in Atlantic City, let alone all be wearing goofy non-privecode buttons that day in the middle eighties just for my sake, DUH. Color me impressed and Briscoe Beethoven. Don't call me or my privecode, Lenny, and if you must call, please don't keep tape recording me, ya dip wad shit head, YO.
Another subject not talked a lot about in my blogs is the mighty and beautiful goddess who went by the name of Sarah Jacobson, back in the early seventies, in Haddonfield, New Jersey. Looking back today, I wanted to have this luscious goddess so bad, I practically drop fucking dead to this day when I so much as think about this wild kid. She was two and twenty-two, all at the same time, and all with the help of a powerful strobing light. I told how she knew the future, and seemed to know a lot about me, yet here she is in a stare rehabilitation class that was in one section of my special education school. Poor Doctor Harold Camping, TOLD YOU. But I'll admit one thing. He had me wondering if I'd zap into one of the realities where indeed it could happen the way he told, after-all, there are countless numbers of parallel realities and universes in the unfathomably vast and limitless boundaries of fifth dimensional hyperspace. I have been switching over and all around like mad recently, and this is why I cannot leave this life, until; the World Laboratories releases me from what is most likely the culprit for doing this to me in the freaking first place, and that would be the Laser Retracing. Am I permitted to tell much more herein, UNCLE HEINZ GOTTWALD???????????? Right now it's freaking twenty minutes shy of three this Wednesday ass afternoon, on the 25th of May, in 2011, or 'DOOMSDAY + 4', right Harold Nostradamus, YO? Is he more magical than two way door buzzer systems that hear the magic word spoken by John King, without GS holding down the listen button, or is the magic far beyond what I ever admitted to on these blogs, for fear that they will turn the torment and torture buttons aimed at me even higher? Yo0u see peeps, the governing forces such as state or country or whatever can imprison, torture, and execute, those they find guilty of crimes in violation of their laws that would mete out to a severity level warranting one of these things, or more. But out of all three, only torture is the powerful punitation. Death ends it, at least as far as mans reality is concerned here in 2011, so kill me, and then, what else can you do to me, so is that enough to do to me, and this is the Shakespearean question sought after by the WOMO for so long now. Prison, sheeeeeeeeeeit, they've had me in a prison of illusion forever, again folks, SOSO-WEIN is my response to that????????????????? The power involved in all of this can be wrapped up by reading all of the great books by all of the new age fathers and authors, beginning after the good old cheesy nineteen-eighties began floating forever away into the recorded history books, BRAHHHHH!!!!It all has to do with what you have attached 'what you think your thoughts are' and connected it all up together. Let me blow your fucking minds quickly with this whittle example. If you are the smartest person on the planet, and have a fantastic memory as well, you still will never get the same effect out of life, that you would if you recorded in a journal, minute details of both waking and dreaming life; and then use 30 days or so as a lag time, and begin playing back tapes or reading printouts, and always staying in this lag of time. Just mama-freaking do this, and you will get a mind blow that my words could never hope to fucking express, and adequately describe; to any of you out here on the great net-system. Hay, don't do it, and I'll tell you something my peeps. You will be missing a boat ride into wonders and mysteries of Dolphin Flipper, times the power exponent of a thousand!!Naturally, and with no attempts in bragging in any way, this is only one thing that I can teach to the world, and if they would ever listen to me, which is highly doubtful; lookout, WOMO. Still, and again without bragging; I could tell all of you literally hundreds of other little juicy ass secrets, that are every bit as good, and better; than this one. Talk about my bouncing around in the 5th dimensional hyperspace like a 1988 copyrighted freaking Mickey-D-YOYO dancer, I plugged in my DVD-VCR machine, and it no longer plays CD music as it always used to. It is the same machine, but now; it simply no longer does this. If I am wrong on all my hypertronic ideas, then just please show me where, Clarence Harris, Phil Patru, Steve Peterson, and 'Rob Andrews', literally the greatest voice in Washington, from humble backgrounds and beginnings in the Albert Pillegi band, two blocks from my high school of time trip loops, the Haddon Township High of Westmont, New jersey, USAESMWG, and Oak Street and Angel. But then, we have Pres-16; right Jim Kirk, old style future music man??
When Captain Next, also Sir-P known as Pick-A-Card, used the words, PARLOR TRICKS, on the episode of TNG-ST, with the lovely eighteen year old Q-Goddess, I must point out more proof that the entire Hollywood gang knows both me, and things about me and my personal nightmare story. We have the place called New Jersey, we have the controlled Magnesonic-Q-Swain Twisters, and if I really was trying to make a laundry list for the sake of bragging endlessly on totally verifying beyond any doubt that for all of this to be coincidental would require in believing in tooth fairy and Easter bunny odds for being so, add in Santa Claus, and MC and her powerful white-stuff this year. I will always love this incredible goddess, and SHE knows it.
Talk about showing THAT BOY who's boss, wow have I freaking learned. At the risk of getting a major ass whooping by both Kevin Costner and crack head gorgeous Whitney, you know, MC, that “IWALU”. If that is anybody's problem besides mine, my now late Uncle Stuart Mason, would have perfect words to retort here; and these words being, YO, “Tough beans”. She is all yours in this time reality, road-trip time-man. Still, let us speak on a while regarding this road-trip time-man. My GOOGLE time stamped blogs on www.blogger.com/ should verify a lot of things for so many naysayers, scoffers, doubters, and down right out and out freaking Mountainpen haters out here. You merely begin when I am reset up with Comcast, sort of like now, only back at the addr4ess of 65-A Middle Road, in Hammonton, NJUSAESMWG, in middle September somewhere in 2008, after being offline due to transit with THAT-FAMILY, a non time transit this time, YO. 'Travelers' are educators, Wall Streeters, entertainers, and gravitate towards certain things. I have made a complex pattern that Detective Studderreale of the SVU would be quite proud of. This dude's persona and character is fascinating, Mister Spock. He is a combination of Holmes and Einstein, only one character is a phase three being, while the other one is a phase four being. Of course the L&O-SVU detective is also a phase four being who tried to get here into the waking world in ways that would break Lawtronics, and hence, wound up as a fictional character inside of the Wolfgang's imaginations and conceptions. When these shows were all new, I never interacted with them in any way, in real time. Later, the forces caused the interaction with the first show itself, and I began viewing the television show called, 'Law & Order', on a regular basis. When my time in the north was winding down, so was the show, but it continued until just this very year. Then without new shows, I began watching the other spinoff shows, such as the one mentioned above, as well as Criminal Intent, and others, now including the Las Angelis deal. I know the mother fucking city is spelled wrong, but don't complain, my readers, the spell checker is fucking worthless and will not tell me how to properly spell one of the largest mother trucking cities on this freaking ass planet, BRO. Technology, huh Copyright office, ism it good to me, well, those were the second lyric words following the next bar of music after the 4 noted word of TECHNOLOGY, my friendly Washington 2007 examiners, YO.
One great thing about Avenue D and 7th, here in hot ass Fort Pierce, Florida, I love trains, and I get to hear a lot of trains and train whistles here. Fro0m my address back in the White City section of town, as well as up in the western ghettos of 26th Street and Avenue E, the trains were barely audible, even on the occasional 'quiet' night. Now, I enjoy hearing my train, I always loved trains, and sure as shit took enough rides on them, right MISTERS Brad Messenger, and Sigmund Malyeska? If you know anything about me today old pal Brad,m you know my life was as wild as you ever imagined it could be, as I know you never had a pal like me, not before, and not after. No disrespect was ever meant, when I talked about your exquisite lovely mother, and the ice tea joy juice. Still, ice tea, when do the coincidences even attempt to slow down, and then 'MI PRECIOUS MORIANS'? Give me a break, YO. Then the “BUT” hack at the library computer, as though the great NC all ready knew or gave it to me and then went back. “BING, reality”. Some may say bullshit to that, but my response is, then you, explain all of this emereffing stuff, BRAHH!
Well, tomorrow I call the 'AARP' peeps, regarding my reassignment. I just cannot stand that fucking HARVEST place any longer, as all of the higher ups there, totally think that they are all a bunch of fucking little demiassgods, just running all around in there. In “REALITY”, the great “BING” SEARCH ENGINE SAYS, politely of course, “SHULL-BIT”!!!!!!!!!!! They had the unmitigated gall to put my photo on their website without even asking me, a clear violation, or at least it should be, of the American fucking system. If Dawn-Marie had burned down my house or injured me, you can bet your mother fucking ass that the owners, Gini and Austin Hunt, without the ington, would be at best, my 50/50 partners, and at worst, out on their butts, and on the street. But then when is it ever a fucking fair or just world, for MOUNTAINPEN, also known, 'Sir Prince', as MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN, and also “Mark Wayne Mohr, of Hammonton, New Jersey, and Googling up that nightmare hate-page on me, is enough to let you all know just how I feel about this evil monstrous fucking demonic sick twisted 'Joe-Dad' world. Move over, Oliver Jefferson!
Let's return to the topic of freaking Exploratronic- Supermind. Paula King is one of the characters, Julia White is the main character, and on the Astral Plane, is Viqueen Mini-Great Jewelly Nurockey. The awake world mortal humankind got their idea of the VIKING from this incredible gang or group of eighty-seven delicious super teen-queen girls, with Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, in charge as their leader. But this is just one of trillions or quadrillions or more things that this powerful and mind bending goddess is into. Exploratronic Supermind or ES for short, is not a topic I can go from start to finish, even on a three thousand page long freaking blog. It is not even something that most would understand no matter how I would even go about the herculean task of attempting to explaining it. Still, today is the time to be a bit more specific on this subject than I've ever been so far on any of these six years of my blogging career. Sheeeeeeeeeeeit, career, what a fucking ass disastrous career. Funny how some rhyming words come to mind instantly such as FEAR, TEAR, TOM REALE THE QUEER, LEER, JEER, but 'then again', I also can think of a dozen neutral rhymes, as well as more positive ones. Nothing is perfect, right Bruce Allen Pennock of 2 Beaver Drive? Don't electrocute me for my sheer honesty here, my deer austere Senator Trophywife Hopefulpres. Leer jets are one thing, and so are chemtrails and my pal on the mighty U-TUBE, known as “SKYWITNESS”, but then I am about to begin taking photographs of an aerial vehicle from far into the future, and posting up my shit as well. If my bud, SKWT on UT wants to contact me, he can do so. My problem is that I am the reason behind this whole shit eating thing that he is posting stuff about, and right away, when I say this, I am either a liar, a bragger, or a freaking sike case, and NEVER MIND THAT IT IS ALL MOTHER FUCKING REAL AND HONEST AND TRUE, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I also seem to be behind shit happening in a destructive way, every single time I either physically move to any new location as I have done this week, as well as any time I record songs and music. Just exactly what is really behind all this, is wrapped up in the science of non Empire State Buildings, or the other ES, of the Harrah/Sarah worlds of other Atlantic City's. MC, did you know your lovely name pops up when you spell or try to spell the casino on the Atlantic City bay, NOT OWNED by our wonderful mutual phase-4 man of great power, the Harrah Casino? Say Levy, and other nice french words, or refrain if possible. Aniwho peeps, this blog has told nothing, yet look how freaking look it is, sorry about that Maxwell Smart. “I KNOW NOTHING”, SCHULTS, “NOTHING” OYR? But for right now, I'm keeping my freaking ass mouth shut, we don't want our friends kicked off welfare, right TQ?
END TRANSMISSION:
Friday, May 20, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 153
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 153
MAY 20, 2011, 1:23 PM, FRIDAY
START BLOG:
This is a day that is not like a lot of others. If someone with a degree in psychiatry reads it, they have lots of names for me with Latin origins, and do not give any credibility nor any credence to what I talk about as far as any real connections with 'their' reality. If a person of simple mind that is not big into the mental illness thing reads this, they would say I make mountains out of molehills and without perhaps meaning to, tend to exaggerate both my own importance within the grand scheme of things, as well ass the importance of individual small or seemingly small events. The few on Earth such as myself, know with a full heart, that it is all quite true and quite scary, when facing all of this alone and isolated, and this can be on a sidewalk in Chicago at noon, as just because crowds may be gathered around you, it is still as isolating, to be me, as if you lived on a far away asteroid by yourself.
Lots of noise is all around me, planes are in the distance and not real bothersome, yet. The markets are flying as I said they would be at record high territories while the poor get poorer and the rich get richer, nothing ever changes. I TOLD ALL OF YOU LAST WEEK THAT THE DOW JONES WEOULD FLY, as it does this every time the WOMO MILLIONTH-COUNCIL and their peeps, use their covert weaponry on me to either injure my physical body, or my personal property, it is dependable precision Swiss clockwork. I am sure the Flyers have all ready, or will win the Sar Stanley Cup, and the Phillies are most likely down the toilet. I do not follow all of this any more, one of the few personal advantages for me as a Floridian, as this is not so much pushed out all over my face as it would be up north around Philadelphia, still there is never any escaping New York, the Capitol of the Capitalist pigs.
I also am under a huge invisibility/hostility/gram. Everywhere I go, peeps treat me like total crap and may as well just out right push me and puke on me, it would not matter all that much. When my magnetic connection to cosmos or (PERSONAL-MAGNETICS) as I've come to abbreviate this term as, are like this, things are extremely bad for me and around me, as well as frighteningly dangerous. Anything can happen, and predictability becomes almost geometrically down scaling. On top of that, here is what happened so far.
I came out of a powerful dreaming-interaction where I was back in 1978, and inside a building where the entrance into it had a doorway in a corner as do some restaurants, and all though no food was around, I was able to get the distinct impression that some sort of a mixed party and business meeting was being held within the space where I was inside of. I was speaking to several other gentlemen, 60'ish in age, and for quite some time, the topic of which is totally now blocked out by my conscious waking memory. MC was only eight years old, and kept coming into the place and hanging around near to where I was standing with these several other people, and talking about the gods only know what. She came in and went out on 4 or 5 occasions, and seemed oblivious to the on goings within, and was quite preoccupied with her own situation. Eventually, I saw that she had something in her left hand, and was hiding it under some kind of a bright red sleeve. This was all I could pull up until an hour later while in my car driving over to the Harvest where I was going to speak to my mover whom was just getting off shift at noon, we will call him, Stan Nichols, and this is merely a made up name. Before I got there, I realized however, that my next destination over to the mechanic shop would not be necessary. The engine light that has been on ever since I left the Winn Dixie Grocery Store at the beginning of this week, was off, and the car was running like a top, just as before. This is when the rest of the “DREAM” suddenly struck me and I remembered that in MI's hand was this tubular strobe light. She came over and pulled me aside and told me that she had fixed my car so that I would not have to worry any more. Then again, she ran outside, and when I followed her out to thank this amazing child, she had vanished, and was nowhere to be found. I called out after her four times, “Mariah”, but she was nowhere. I had forgotten that part of the interaction, until I got into the vehicle and it had indeed been repaired.
Diana just communicated with me through machine-mind-D-6 signal, as an alert came through on a bottom screen icon that I clicked onto from channel 12 local weather, and it said that DIANA is around somewhere, and may be coming to my area big time, up through about half past two, it is now ten shy of two.
If you can hear me Diana, I love you and need you, they all want to keep me away from the three persons who mean the most to me, you are one of them. Don't abandon me my beautiful LIGHTNING. I love my baby-blond so much.
I am so scared that what I do in a few hours or less may either cause or prevent a global catastrophe and I do not know what to do, and I cannot reach anybody or speak to anybody. I am going out of my mind. Rosemarie told me in 1997 that if I change the All Mighty's karma and SHE remembers who she is here, the world may cease to exist. 4:30m is so close now, what should I do, world? No one can be imaging switch sensors just repairing themselves, or chains being dreamed away from a physical world, but still, POPE, how else really could that great IC have taken place, MI EMINENCE????????????????????? ************
END OF BLOG, maybe the end of all blogs, who knows now?
MAY 20, 2011, 1:23 PM, FRIDAY
START BLOG:
This is a day that is not like a lot of others. If someone with a degree in psychiatry reads it, they have lots of names for me with Latin origins, and do not give any credibility nor any credence to what I talk about as far as any real connections with 'their' reality. If a person of simple mind that is not big into the mental illness thing reads this, they would say I make mountains out of molehills and without perhaps meaning to, tend to exaggerate both my own importance within the grand scheme of things, as well ass the importance of individual small or seemingly small events. The few on Earth such as myself, know with a full heart, that it is all quite true and quite scary, when facing all of this alone and isolated, and this can be on a sidewalk in Chicago at noon, as just because crowds may be gathered around you, it is still as isolating, to be me, as if you lived on a far away asteroid by yourself.
Lots of noise is all around me, planes are in the distance and not real bothersome, yet. The markets are flying as I said they would be at record high territories while the poor get poorer and the rich get richer, nothing ever changes. I TOLD ALL OF YOU LAST WEEK THAT THE DOW JONES WEOULD FLY, as it does this every time the WOMO MILLIONTH-COUNCIL and their peeps, use their covert weaponry on me to either injure my physical body, or my personal property, it is dependable precision Swiss clockwork. I am sure the Flyers have all ready, or will win the Sar Stanley Cup, and the Phillies are most likely down the toilet. I do not follow all of this any more, one of the few personal advantages for me as a Floridian, as this is not so much pushed out all over my face as it would be up north around Philadelphia, still there is never any escaping New York, the Capitol of the Capitalist pigs.
I also am under a huge invisibility/hostility/gram. Everywhere I go, peeps treat me like total crap and may as well just out right push me and puke on me, it would not matter all that much. When my magnetic connection to cosmos or (PERSONAL-MAGNETICS) as I've come to abbreviate this term as, are like this, things are extremely bad for me and around me, as well as frighteningly dangerous. Anything can happen, and predictability becomes almost geometrically down scaling. On top of that, here is what happened so far.
I came out of a powerful dreaming-interaction where I was back in 1978, and inside a building where the entrance into it had a doorway in a corner as do some restaurants, and all though no food was around, I was able to get the distinct impression that some sort of a mixed party and business meeting was being held within the space where I was inside of. I was speaking to several other gentlemen, 60'ish in age, and for quite some time, the topic of which is totally now blocked out by my conscious waking memory. MC was only eight years old, and kept coming into the place and hanging around near to where I was standing with these several other people, and talking about the gods only know what. She came in and went out on 4 or 5 occasions, and seemed oblivious to the on goings within, and was quite preoccupied with her own situation. Eventually, I saw that she had something in her left hand, and was hiding it under some kind of a bright red sleeve. This was all I could pull up until an hour later while in my car driving over to the Harvest where I was going to speak to my mover whom was just getting off shift at noon, we will call him, Stan Nichols, and this is merely a made up name. Before I got there, I realized however, that my next destination over to the mechanic shop would not be necessary. The engine light that has been on ever since I left the Winn Dixie Grocery Store at the beginning of this week, was off, and the car was running like a top, just as before. This is when the rest of the “DREAM” suddenly struck me and I remembered that in MI's hand was this tubular strobe light. She came over and pulled me aside and told me that she had fixed my car so that I would not have to worry any more. Then again, she ran outside, and when I followed her out to thank this amazing child, she had vanished, and was nowhere to be found. I called out after her four times, “Mariah”, but she was nowhere. I had forgotten that part of the interaction, until I got into the vehicle and it had indeed been repaired.
Diana just communicated with me through machine-mind-D-6 signal, as an alert came through on a bottom screen icon that I clicked onto from channel 12 local weather, and it said that DIANA is around somewhere, and may be coming to my area big time, up through about half past two, it is now ten shy of two.
If you can hear me Diana, I love you and need you, they all want to keep me away from the three persons who mean the most to me, you are one of them. Don't abandon me my beautiful LIGHTNING. I love my baby-blond so much.
I am so scared that what I do in a few hours or less may either cause or prevent a global catastrophe and I do not know what to do, and I cannot reach anybody or speak to anybody. I am going out of my mind. Rosemarie told me in 1997 that if I change the All Mighty's karma and SHE remembers who she is here, the world may cease to exist. 4:30m is so close now, what should I do, world? No one can be imaging switch sensors just repairing themselves, or chains being dreamed away from a physical world, but still, POPE, how else really could that great IC have taken place, MI EMINENCE????????????????????? ************
END OF BLOG, maybe the end of all blogs, who knows now?
Thursday, May 19, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 152
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 152
3:26 PM, THURSDAY, MAY 19, 2011
START OF A SHORT BLOG:
I went to sleep around 5 this morning and slept until noon. However, I had to put a lot of electrical tape over my Comcast Cable TV box, as the data-light came on and would not go off, even after I looked at and cleared the message up on my account about some WWE nonsense. Why would I be at all interested in a sport where right off the bat, there is connection to a major shame in my past? The light was off when I removed the tape around one this afternoon, and had the cable company agent on the telephone. They said that if data is being sent up to the box, then this yellow light may come on, and stay on; until the transmission ODF that data, that's {{{(((OF)))}}} that data, hacker ass, has all completely uploaded. They assured me that no one channel controls their organization nor could he or she keep doing stuff. Who knows either way after all the stuff that I've seen and witnessed over a long period of timer now? Still, lately, I am left wondering if my buddy Robert McDowell is on vacation or something? It literally is just one thing right after another, and I don't see how I am going to be able to move if this crap doesn't back off. Saturday was the day planned to finish up the big move, but I have asked my mover to move this date back another week, with Doctor Camping's approval and Stacey's, of course.
Even stranger things have happened all around and beyond this. There are some people around me that I do not know from Adam, who seem to act as though they have known me for years and years, and always have some nasty half smirk on their face. I'm not imagining it no matter how many folks would perhaps try and convince me otherwise.
Quickly, a short message to the world now, on boxes containing strange motor cycle chains, written material, and quantum foam. I do not look at events or objects or people on a surface level, no matter how many times the All Mighty Paul Evans Pedersen of STUDIO PARK RECORDS, would tell me that I should be. I cannot see thongs in limited surface small picture ways. I do not perceive individuality, non-combination pictures all surrounded by ultra complex symbolism, or three dimensions connecting my five senses. My five senses are heightened to a level of six dimensions. I know that the mind and that thoughts, produced by either zero or one digitized machinery, or chemical-neurological-biological carbon based things called humans, or lower level organisms below us in so-called staged evolution. I know that when Russell came over drunk and messed up at between 1 and 2 in the morning on that cold December night, he somehow just knew that I would be all alone and awake in that apartment, and since we were both only age fifteen, this is not a meaningless by any means, part of the equation. Then I take a look at what was emptied out of one closet, and what I saw in another one, not that far in the future. On top of this, I am no fool and I know that nothing just happens, so nothing with huge consequences does either, and that even more powers that be, unknown or known, go to work in these cases.
The Book Of Beach was written by me as a young teenaged boy, and was all about the characters now blogged about. All of them. Not just Atlantic City, but all of them. This is why, McGuire Matchman somehow was obviously directed to get Russ into a situation where he would come over and all these things would lead to the total emptying of my bedroom closet, long before the GAMES EXPERT ever threw any rocks or papers or games at me in twenty oh Marola seven, (2007). Now the computer geeks and hackers know better than anyone, what I am now about to conclude this short blog with. It would take a very sophisticated series of programs and looped thought energies to pull off this kind of a complexity that would guarantee the desired results such as bye-bye chain, and then no more BOB. Examining how computers now work, and the awesome inter linking network of the world system called the internet, and talking it even further along in a technological evolution of a sorts, however, and none of my claims and accusations of what was done to me in this apartment in 1969, seems far out or crazy at all. But without seeing the logic that is presented in my argument here, I would just be locked away in the nut house and laughed at. Finer, some of us out here know the real truths, don't we Lenny? Don't we Chester? Don't we Frank Callio????????????????????????
Thanks to the NASA operation and the local entertainment world news broadcast, I now plan to get me the same thing that all peeps all ready have. Since this white aircraft from the future wants to keep stalking me, it will get posted up on the system. Then, maybe things will really get hot and go into action, finally. If she can do it, Channel five, then why can't I, when I have real unbelievable shit that I could get on camera and post and prove, and literally blow the world's freaking mind once and for all?
Thank yo Channel 5 Trump Network, Wolf Finker, and thank you NASA, happy landings.
END TRANNY.
3:26 PM, THURSDAY, MAY 19, 2011
START OF A SHORT BLOG:
I went to sleep around 5 this morning and slept until noon. However, I had to put a lot of electrical tape over my Comcast Cable TV box, as the data-light came on and would not go off, even after I looked at and cleared the message up on my account about some WWE nonsense. Why would I be at all interested in a sport where right off the bat, there is connection to a major shame in my past? The light was off when I removed the tape around one this afternoon, and had the cable company agent on the telephone. They said that if data is being sent up to the box, then this yellow light may come on, and stay on; until the transmission ODF that data, that's {{{(((OF)))}}} that data, hacker ass, has all completely uploaded. They assured me that no one channel controls their organization nor could he or she keep doing stuff. Who knows either way after all the stuff that I've seen and witnessed over a long period of timer now? Still, lately, I am left wondering if my buddy Robert McDowell is on vacation or something? It literally is just one thing right after another, and I don't see how I am going to be able to move if this crap doesn't back off. Saturday was the day planned to finish up the big move, but I have asked my mover to move this date back another week, with Doctor Camping's approval and Stacey's, of course.
Even stranger things have happened all around and beyond this. There are some people around me that I do not know from Adam, who seem to act as though they have known me for years and years, and always have some nasty half smirk on their face. I'm not imagining it no matter how many folks would perhaps try and convince me otherwise.
Quickly, a short message to the world now, on boxes containing strange motor cycle chains, written material, and quantum foam. I do not look at events or objects or people on a surface level, no matter how many times the All Mighty Paul Evans Pedersen of STUDIO PARK RECORDS, would tell me that I should be. I cannot see thongs in limited surface small picture ways. I do not perceive individuality, non-combination pictures all surrounded by ultra complex symbolism, or three dimensions connecting my five senses. My five senses are heightened to a level of six dimensions. I know that the mind and that thoughts, produced by either zero or one digitized machinery, or chemical-neurological-biological carbon based things called humans, or lower level organisms below us in so-called staged evolution. I know that when Russell came over drunk and messed up at between 1 and 2 in the morning on that cold December night, he somehow just knew that I would be all alone and awake in that apartment, and since we were both only age fifteen, this is not a meaningless by any means, part of the equation. Then I take a look at what was emptied out of one closet, and what I saw in another one, not that far in the future. On top of this, I am no fool and I know that nothing just happens, so nothing with huge consequences does either, and that even more powers that be, unknown or known, go to work in these cases.
The Book Of Beach was written by me as a young teenaged boy, and was all about the characters now blogged about. All of them. Not just Atlantic City, but all of them. This is why, McGuire Matchman somehow was obviously directed to get Russ into a situation where he would come over and all these things would lead to the total emptying of my bedroom closet, long before the GAMES EXPERT ever threw any rocks or papers or games at me in twenty oh Marola seven, (2007). Now the computer geeks and hackers know better than anyone, what I am now about to conclude this short blog with. It would take a very sophisticated series of programs and looped thought energies to pull off this kind of a complexity that would guarantee the desired results such as bye-bye chain, and then no more BOB. Examining how computers now work, and the awesome inter linking network of the world system called the internet, and talking it even further along in a technological evolution of a sorts, however, and none of my claims and accusations of what was done to me in this apartment in 1969, seems far out or crazy at all. But without seeing the logic that is presented in my argument here, I would just be locked away in the nut house and laughed at. Finer, some of us out here know the real truths, don't we Lenny? Don't we Chester? Don't we Frank Callio????????????????????????
Thanks to the NASA operation and the local entertainment world news broadcast, I now plan to get me the same thing that all peeps all ready have. Since this white aircraft from the future wants to keep stalking me, it will get posted up on the system. Then, maybe things will really get hot and go into action, finally. If she can do it, Channel five, then why can't I, when I have real unbelievable shit that I could get on camera and post and prove, and literally blow the world's freaking mind once and for all?
Thank yo Channel 5 Trump Network, Wolf Finker, and thank you NASA, happy landings.
END TRANNY.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 151
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 151
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
SEND-BACK-TEXT DATFILE: CH-151-051811.881
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN-2006-2011
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
BLOG SUBTITLE 4: “RUSSELL THAXTON AND
QUANTUM PHYSICS”
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
We will cut right to the chase, just as soon as my retraction and formal apologies are made. I owe an apology to the Google owners as well as the Corporation called American Telephone and Telegraph, most up here in the future of my misery-loop recognize the abbreviation only, or AT&T. I misspoke, and am very sorry. I should have shut my mouth until I was sure of both things, and it turned out, I totally fucked up on both. AT&T did not do what I feared they did and it is none of anybody's business, as those who this all pertains to, all ready know exactly what is being retracted, and apologized for here. As for U-Tube, owned by Google, I came right out and said something that needs to be taken back. I am very sorry. It would not happen however if you had a little more human contact. I had no way of knowing how to post up to my blogger account, that you hit the 'OTHER' option, and that the period in the link is there for some purpose and does not effect the posting and linking process. I am very sorry, and ask that you please forgive me. Now we can move on, without wasting any more precious time, since there are only 365.2422 tropical days in a year, all though some may wish to have double this amount, or if not double, boxed double, Eureka, am I correct here? Not totally, there is another scramble, and that is for me to know. Now let us get into what really started a lot of things that led to so much of this. Naturally, I speak of a youth who came over to an apartment where I was residing while I too was a youth. Both of us were just fifteen years old, but quantum physics shows how all of the stuff that happened not only after his 2 AM arrival while my mom was out on an all-niter-date, with that nut case boyfriend, Sidney Crown Cohen; permitting this totally outlandish event to occur in the first place, happened because of events both behind it as well as in front of it on a fourth dimensional plane of existence, that appear separated when conscious and aware in only three dimensions, but not only did it all happen, but all of the reality is like a liquid that is seeking its own level. Throw rocks into a bag, and every time there will be a different geometric outcome. Throw water into the same bag, and as long as it is the exact same amount of water and the same bag all arranged the same way, unlike the rocks, it will have one continuous outcome, over and over again. This is where the topic in religion has caused blood baths, I am speaking of mans perception and concept of having a “FREE WILL”. We all had a free will when the movie was made and remade and re-spliced countless infinite times, but after no more possible combinations were left to come out, or somewhere close to this, an amazing thing was forced to occur, and this was the same two identical patterns repeating themselves, locking things into a closed curve infinity on a ninth dimensional plane. Not only did Russell Thaxton receive a blow job from this older lady, named Goodfellow from Haddonfield, New Jersey, causing him to down a fifth of Scotch. And head over to my pad as it was called in-between the STM illusion of flops and cribs, BUT, all of the stuff that pertained to the burned up BOOK OF BEACH, began resurfacing, directly after my dreaming experience in late 2007, all blogged at www.blogger.com/ with the strange two dudes who were in that same apartment where Russell and I were in middle December of 1969, but now, this broken pipe was underneath my apartment bedroom, and these were maintenance men, and one called himself the “Games Expert”, and shortly following this blog, came the powerful and popular television show that we all know and love, or that most of us do aniwho, called, “THE MENTALIST”. From this point, came all of the last 36-42 months of this incredible Mary Tyler Moore green dress guessing game. Guessing, WHAT, Mister Jane?
Now I am not gonna' sit here tonight and lie and tell anyone that I have secret knowledge. I merely have put stuff together that came from repressed memories, as well as legwork, detective work, and following the advice given me by a prosecutor, named Ron Wirtz, in Camden County, in New Jersey, USAESMWG back throughout all of the early and middle nineteen-nineties. I do not have to do a lot of guessing now, or smelling the roses, or admiring beauty queens in lovely green dresses. It all had to eventually come together, and whether we all like the story or not, there it is, right out of a newest edition in a QUANTUM PHYSICS LABORATORY. We do not need any Divas, any Doctor Margret's, or anything. It just fits like a smooth glove. As for the chain and the box, I will bet money, that some other person lived somewhere around this time, and had a special flashlight. This was absconded as well, by Lenny CB Radioman and his crew who invented rap culture, and that lovely 'music' that went along with it. Add 106 handles to your pot, old pal. Box and add, but do not box my ears, diner bragger. I always knew Queen Safka was involved in this somehow, but never ever dreamed of exactly how. Still, games go on, endlessly. Tag and chases, guessing names on balconies that no longer exist on 10-SC Avenue, pipe running, kite flying, and creating and destroying entire worlds and universes.
Oh the fun of infinite existence, how boring, how boring. Well, I get it wrong most of the time, huh Dawn? Still, I had a nice talk today on the old telee, with your wonderful mommy, Ann. She knows all the hell I'm going through down here in the dry lands of hot sunny South Florida, here in Fort Pierce. She also knows what the family did and how you escaped the rehab clinic, and when they no longer needed you or could use you, boom, another person around me who just 'up and dies' with MISTER BO, that's Jangles, many peeps in my proximity have exited this waking life quite early, under very surreal and mysterious circumstances, you are right about that one Auditorium Julia All-Colors!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!
So why did the great one demand the posting that night? I'd be lying to say that I am not wondering about things right now. I do not even know why I said “93 hours”, I swear that on my immortal being-ness. Also, Ann seemed to totally just know that indeed, if I had obeyed, the real person that sent that death beam down on my vehicle over at the freaking Winn Dixie Store yesterday, would not have dared to do it until at least late Saturday night. I did get it screwed up, I thought the dude said April, not May, yes all of this is making even me start to wonder, NOW! This is two freaking weird. I still would not be where I am right now, if it was not for me accidentally rolling over on my Comcast Cable remote control and somehow changing to a channel in the 200's where some Spanish Channel was talking about the great Doomsday Prophet and Family Radio, out in good out Jason Cali Deejay Summerville! Even I have to say right about now, this is bizarre times a million. The battery was not damaged, it was the engine idiot light that was on, showing how much emereffing crap I know about automobiles. The very same precise switch was struck that they struck right at this exact time last year while trying to move from WHITE CITY over to the 26th Street Ghetto here. The name of this is called, for the record, FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, “BWD Capteur Sensor #CSS34”. Add the entire ten digit number up, MI, and it ends in a 34 total, and now, since I am not paid until Friday, and need the car fixed as it is unsafe to drive, how am I supposed to call you at 4:30 on Friday, when I'll be at an auto garage? Do you see yet how powerful this all is, Callio Sarah-2?
END TRANSMISSION:
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
SEND-BACK-TEXT DATFILE: CH-151-051811.881
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN-2006-2011
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
BLOG SUBTITLE 4: “RUSSELL THAXTON AND
QUANTUM PHYSICS”
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
We will cut right to the chase, just as soon as my retraction and formal apologies are made. I owe an apology to the Google owners as well as the Corporation called American Telephone and Telegraph, most up here in the future of my misery-loop recognize the abbreviation only, or AT&T. I misspoke, and am very sorry. I should have shut my mouth until I was sure of both things, and it turned out, I totally fucked up on both. AT&T did not do what I feared they did and it is none of anybody's business, as those who this all pertains to, all ready know exactly what is being retracted, and apologized for here. As for U-Tube, owned by Google, I came right out and said something that needs to be taken back. I am very sorry. It would not happen however if you had a little more human contact. I had no way of knowing how to post up to my blogger account, that you hit the 'OTHER' option, and that the period in the link is there for some purpose and does not effect the posting and linking process. I am very sorry, and ask that you please forgive me. Now we can move on, without wasting any more precious time, since there are only 365.2422 tropical days in a year, all though some may wish to have double this amount, or if not double, boxed double, Eureka, am I correct here? Not totally, there is another scramble, and that is for me to know. Now let us get into what really started a lot of things that led to so much of this. Naturally, I speak of a youth who came over to an apartment where I was residing while I too was a youth. Both of us were just fifteen years old, but quantum physics shows how all of the stuff that happened not only after his 2 AM arrival while my mom was out on an all-niter-date, with that nut case boyfriend, Sidney Crown Cohen; permitting this totally outlandish event to occur in the first place, happened because of events both behind it as well as in front of it on a fourth dimensional plane of existence, that appear separated when conscious and aware in only three dimensions, but not only did it all happen, but all of the reality is like a liquid that is seeking its own level. Throw rocks into a bag, and every time there will be a different geometric outcome. Throw water into the same bag, and as long as it is the exact same amount of water and the same bag all arranged the same way, unlike the rocks, it will have one continuous outcome, over and over again. This is where the topic in religion has caused blood baths, I am speaking of mans perception and concept of having a “FREE WILL”. We all had a free will when the movie was made and remade and re-spliced countless infinite times, but after no more possible combinations were left to come out, or somewhere close to this, an amazing thing was forced to occur, and this was the same two identical patterns repeating themselves, locking things into a closed curve infinity on a ninth dimensional plane. Not only did Russell Thaxton receive a blow job from this older lady, named Goodfellow from Haddonfield, New Jersey, causing him to down a fifth of Scotch. And head over to my pad as it was called in-between the STM illusion of flops and cribs, BUT, all of the stuff that pertained to the burned up BOOK OF BEACH, began resurfacing, directly after my dreaming experience in late 2007, all blogged at www.blogger.com/ with the strange two dudes who were in that same apartment where Russell and I were in middle December of 1969, but now, this broken pipe was underneath my apartment bedroom, and these were maintenance men, and one called himself the “Games Expert”, and shortly following this blog, came the powerful and popular television show that we all know and love, or that most of us do aniwho, called, “THE MENTALIST”. From this point, came all of the last 36-42 months of this incredible Mary Tyler Moore green dress guessing game. Guessing, WHAT, Mister Jane?
Now I am not gonna' sit here tonight and lie and tell anyone that I have secret knowledge. I merely have put stuff together that came from repressed memories, as well as legwork, detective work, and following the advice given me by a prosecutor, named Ron Wirtz, in Camden County, in New Jersey, USAESMWG back throughout all of the early and middle nineteen-nineties. I do not have to do a lot of guessing now, or smelling the roses, or admiring beauty queens in lovely green dresses. It all had to eventually come together, and whether we all like the story or not, there it is, right out of a newest edition in a QUANTUM PHYSICS LABORATORY. We do not need any Divas, any Doctor Margret's, or anything. It just fits like a smooth glove. As for the chain and the box, I will bet money, that some other person lived somewhere around this time, and had a special flashlight. This was absconded as well, by Lenny CB Radioman and his crew who invented rap culture, and that lovely 'music' that went along with it. Add 106 handles to your pot, old pal. Box and add, but do not box my ears, diner bragger. I always knew Queen Safka was involved in this somehow, but never ever dreamed of exactly how. Still, games go on, endlessly. Tag and chases, guessing names on balconies that no longer exist on 10-SC Avenue, pipe running, kite flying, and creating and destroying entire worlds and universes.
Oh the fun of infinite existence, how boring, how boring. Well, I get it wrong most of the time, huh Dawn? Still, I had a nice talk today on the old telee, with your wonderful mommy, Ann. She knows all the hell I'm going through down here in the dry lands of hot sunny South Florida, here in Fort Pierce. She also knows what the family did and how you escaped the rehab clinic, and when they no longer needed you or could use you, boom, another person around me who just 'up and dies' with MISTER BO, that's Jangles, many peeps in my proximity have exited this waking life quite early, under very surreal and mysterious circumstances, you are right about that one Auditorium Julia All-Colors!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!
So why did the great one demand the posting that night? I'd be lying to say that I am not wondering about things right now. I do not even know why I said “93 hours”, I swear that on my immortal being-ness. Also, Ann seemed to totally just know that indeed, if I had obeyed, the real person that sent that death beam down on my vehicle over at the freaking Winn Dixie Store yesterday, would not have dared to do it until at least late Saturday night. I did get it screwed up, I thought the dude said April, not May, yes all of this is making even me start to wonder, NOW! This is two freaking weird. I still would not be where I am right now, if it was not for me accidentally rolling over on my Comcast Cable remote control and somehow changing to a channel in the 200's where some Spanish Channel was talking about the great Doomsday Prophet and Family Radio, out in good out Jason Cali Deejay Summerville! Even I have to say right about now, this is bizarre times a million. The battery was not damaged, it was the engine idiot light that was on, showing how much emereffing crap I know about automobiles. The very same precise switch was struck that they struck right at this exact time last year while trying to move from WHITE CITY over to the 26th Street Ghetto here. The name of this is called, for the record, FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, “BWD Capteur Sensor #CSS34”. Add the entire ten digit number up, MI, and it ends in a 34 total, and now, since I am not paid until Friday, and need the car fixed as it is unsafe to drive, how am I supposed to call you at 4:30 on Friday, when I'll be at an auto garage? Do you see yet how powerful this all is, Callio Sarah-2?
END TRANSMISSION:
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 150
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 150
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
2006-2011, MWM/MWM
BEGINNING OF BLOG:
A silly stupid tiny child can see what happened to me yesterday, Tuesday, May the 17th.
All you need to do is read SJ-CH 147 and 148.
Yes, every time I change my address location, I get my car messed with, I told you about Moorstown in 1989, and a year ago right here in Florida, as well as many other places since this August-'86-RGG nightmare all began. Still I have learned through these 25 years of agonizing mother fucking pain and suffering under this intensified HUNTINGTON CURSE, that it is not a matter of when siege and damage strikes, is it because of this OR this OR this, but replace the OR with the word AND. It is because of all of the things all combined freaking together. Manty thibngs are going on peeps, iof you Einsteins out here think for one moment that I am safe to blog sdetails about many of these things, you are totally off base and far away from knowing my reality. I am not some powerful god that cause destruction and counter-strikes. I merely stumbled onto the true secret shit that parallel universes are real, they exist in a huge 5th dimension that some choose to refer to after the late 20th century, as hyperspace. I learned how to capitalize in the year of 1979, on what I accidentally learned about. I learned how to apply the science that I refer to as electronic-metaphysics. Then I came to realize after 20 or more years, that I was being used by a phase-4 entity, who designed his mortal waking existence, and used my physical reality and recording equipment, to literally zap him into existence, right out of Victoria's Twilight Zone. Not all fictional shows are total fiction.
Still, a child should be able to quickly recognize after reading the last two blogs that do not count this one or the one before, just why I was so seriously attacked with major property damage, another thing that the wonderful group that I've called THAT-FAMILY since the nightmares began in July of 1970, can relate to, and one member told outright and publicly to the world on the great O-Show. I know now that I must become an overseas security operator, make a million dollars after several years of work, and then vanish off to a remote South Pacific island. There if I choose to, I can hire a private army to fight off these Milituforce attackers, and kill anyone who comes around to fuck with me. Then, with a small laboratory, I can use my knowledge to construct a device that after I transfuse my blood, can turn me back to age twenty-one and I can re transfuse every ten years. Then in 200 or 300 years, I will come back here when all of you bastard mother fuckers are dead and gone and can no longer hurt me. I know there simply is no other choice.
To play detective and philosopher has indeed got me nowhere, despite figuring out a monstrous story that has been there all along, and placed forever into a subconscious bliss until about 1994, the last magical year in the mathematical system of the PITSTY. So far however, I'll sure as shit one thing, me ol' Morians. I see absolutely no evidence whatsoever, that this year is at all gonna' fucking be anything like 1994, 1980, or 1969. Unless something changes real fucking soon, I am as guilty as Doctor Camping for being King Idiot the great and the Only. I should fucking know better on many things that I allow to fuck up. If anyone knows how hopeless this fucking Huntington Curse is, it is me. No one else alive feels the agony of these fucking nails in my hands and feet. This in no way implies anything other than until humankind is terminated, this family curse is considered one complete lineage. I am not the perfect one, he all ready gave his life for the world, but anyone who does not see that even this was punitation that needed to complete out through the end of time, is blind. How else would the sins and evil of this sick world really be covered properly, give it a rest, Christians. I am in this line of family, I should know better than any and all of you all put together. This does not make me wise or great or powerful. It makes me miserable, fucked up, and cursed, so don';t get it fucked up and wrong, if I may be allowed to quote the great Dawn-Marie King.
I have no answers. I only tell the play by play true tale of misery and woe that I am forced to experience here on Planet Earth. If I had answers beyond this, I would brag about them, and not hide them under any strobing lights.
END BLOG:
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
2006-2011, MWM/MWM
BEGINNING OF BLOG:
A silly stupid tiny child can see what happened to me yesterday, Tuesday, May the 17th.
All you need to do is read SJ-CH 147 and 148.
Yes, every time I change my address location, I get my car messed with, I told you about Moorstown in 1989, and a year ago right here in Florida, as well as many other places since this August-'86-RGG nightmare all began. Still I have learned through these 25 years of agonizing mother fucking pain and suffering under this intensified HUNTINGTON CURSE, that it is not a matter of when siege and damage strikes, is it because of this OR this OR this, but replace the OR with the word AND. It is because of all of the things all combined freaking together. Manty thibngs are going on peeps, iof you Einsteins out here think for one moment that I am safe to blog sdetails about many of these things, you are totally off base and far away from knowing my reality. I am not some powerful god that cause destruction and counter-strikes. I merely stumbled onto the true secret shit that parallel universes are real, they exist in a huge 5th dimension that some choose to refer to after the late 20th century, as hyperspace. I learned how to capitalize in the year of 1979, on what I accidentally learned about. I learned how to apply the science that I refer to as electronic-metaphysics. Then I came to realize after 20 or more years, that I was being used by a phase-4 entity, who designed his mortal waking existence, and used my physical reality and recording equipment, to literally zap him into existence, right out of Victoria's Twilight Zone. Not all fictional shows are total fiction.
Still, a child should be able to quickly recognize after reading the last two blogs that do not count this one or the one before, just why I was so seriously attacked with major property damage, another thing that the wonderful group that I've called THAT-FAMILY since the nightmares began in July of 1970, can relate to, and one member told outright and publicly to the world on the great O-Show. I know now that I must become an overseas security operator, make a million dollars after several years of work, and then vanish off to a remote South Pacific island. There if I choose to, I can hire a private army to fight off these Milituforce attackers, and kill anyone who comes around to fuck with me. Then, with a small laboratory, I can use my knowledge to construct a device that after I transfuse my blood, can turn me back to age twenty-one and I can re transfuse every ten years. Then in 200 or 300 years, I will come back here when all of you bastard mother fuckers are dead and gone and can no longer hurt me. I know there simply is no other choice.
To play detective and philosopher has indeed got me nowhere, despite figuring out a monstrous story that has been there all along, and placed forever into a subconscious bliss until about 1994, the last magical year in the mathematical system of the PITSTY. So far however, I'll sure as shit one thing, me ol' Morians. I see absolutely no evidence whatsoever, that this year is at all gonna' fucking be anything like 1994, 1980, or 1969. Unless something changes real fucking soon, I am as guilty as Doctor Camping for being King Idiot the great and the Only. I should fucking know better on many things that I allow to fuck up. If anyone knows how hopeless this fucking Huntington Curse is, it is me. No one else alive feels the agony of these fucking nails in my hands and feet. This in no way implies anything other than until humankind is terminated, this family curse is considered one complete lineage. I am not the perfect one, he all ready gave his life for the world, but anyone who does not see that even this was punitation that needed to complete out through the end of time, is blind. How else would the sins and evil of this sick world really be covered properly, give it a rest, Christians. I am in this line of family, I should know better than any and all of you all put together. This does not make me wise or great or powerful. It makes me miserable, fucked up, and cursed, so don';t get it fucked up and wrong, if I may be allowed to quote the great Dawn-Marie King.
I have no answers. I only tell the play by play true tale of misery and woe that I am forced to experience here on Planet Earth. If I had answers beyond this, I would brag about them, and not hide them under any strobing lights.
END BLOG:
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 149
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 149
DEATH FUCKING SIEGE
MAJOR PERSECUTION. FBI
MAJOR FUCKING PROPERTY DAMAGE, FBI
WHERE ARE THE FUCKING FEDS WHEN I NEED HELP?
COMMITTING CRIMINAL ACTS ON ME, THAT'S WHERE,
4 PM, TUESDAY, MAY 17, 2011
FLYERS WILL WIN THE FUCKING STANLEY CUP NOW, AFTER THIS ATTACK.
I WENT TO GET INTO MY CAR, AND THEY FUCKING DAMAGED IT, WHILE I WAS IN THE FORT PIERCE, WINN DIXIE GROCERY FUCKING STORE, AND MY ATM CARD FROM TD BANK, FUCKING VERIFIES THE PURCHASE THAT I HAD JUST MADE THERE, THAT BEING, FOUR BRYERS HALF GALLON ICE CREAMS ON THE BOGO SALE OFFER, ROUGHLY ONE HALF HOPUR BACK AROUND HALF FUCKING PAST THREE OF THE FREAKING CLOCK.
ALSO I AM MOVING SOON, AND AM NOW IN TRANSIT, STILL LIVING HERE, YET ALSO, at the new place, the Housing Authority Building, one of them, as the city has quite a lot of them. Also, a plane is following and stalking me, it was still there when I arrived home, barely making it, with my BATTERY idiot light indicator light on in my vehicle's dashboard. When I got in the mother fucking door, the light in my bedroom, did not want to go on, it was plugged in, and nothing is wrong with the bulb, it is working now, and so I know this, but at first, it acted up for no fucking reason explainable whatsoever.
Quite obviously this is a major super FUCKING BOTBAR DAY, this stands for in case you do not follow these blogs, Bottom Of The Barrel, All-ready Rated, b—o—t—b—a—r!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT IS AN UNGLY SOUNDING WORD, AND IT MEANS JUST WHAT IT SEEMS TO SOUND AND MEAN, a nightmare fucking hell on me, THAT ALL SEEMED TO BEGIN OUT OF THE BLUE, on the 15th fucking day in August, in the year of mother fucking 1986, and has never once looked back fucking since, YO players!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Last night, Scylla came into my head around just past midnight, or actually this early morning, and I could not shake it. She insisted that I blog something right then and there, at that moment. I was simply too tired. Diana even warned me that if I did not do it for HER, I'd be in some serious fucking shit ass trouble, BOOM<, not that long afterward, I was driving away from the Winn Dixie Food Store, and POW; the car was lurching and jumping all around, and did not want reach up to the normal highway speed, and also; the battery light on the dash board came on. I was very fucking lucky to make it home, as it was five or six miles of having to drive the vehicle in this totally fucked up condition. Usually, I do not make it to the desired destination, when this diseased WOMO ENEMY MILITUFORCE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL shit happens, as they have that it all planned and fucking mapped out, but this time, somehow; I fucking lucked fucking out peeps, YO. It seems so silly and Mack Kaiter ridiculous, but Scylla is Scylla, and when she commands, you must obey, OR ELSE.
She simply wanted me to tell the world that in HER song called, LOVE IS FOR XCARPENTERS, when HER lyrics that imply that SHE loves ME beyond any other name, that she sees things in a total genealogical oneness, and my family, according to the great MASON LODGE, and according to researcher and historian, Geraldine Snow, also my aunt before she died in the early eighties from ALS, under the now existing name of HUNTINGTON, is within two male outs maximum dating all the way to the existing Huntington's of Long Island right now today, all the way back to King David. In other words, SHE was not violating HER own words by saying that my name is higher than any other in HER opinion, as really, she means the name in the 21st century of today's world and times, of HUNTINGTON. She chose Nazareth to into into our STW material world, when my 61st grandfather's uncle was born, and given the name of JESUS. Still, this of course involved Mary using the FASCITAR, in order to reach the Great City of David, known by a very few mortals as Sahasra Dal Kanwal, and when there, HER DAD, the Great and Mighty NEPTUNE-JUPITER JAPTARAMA CAVELANTISOCLEEVIOUS KRASSLE, IMPREGNATED THIS INCREDIBLE VIQUEEN, OF WHOM SHE REALLY IS, IN HER TRUER ASTRAL EXISTENCE, AND MANY POWERFUL SECRETS ARE INVOLVED WITH THE SUPER SECRET SYSTEM OF THE RECENTLY PRINTED BY ME, “FASCITAR”. This precise English tongue word, translates if spoken in the ancient secret language of Aramaic, into “TOOL OF TRHE RASTAFARIAN, something that MISTER Lenny McKinnon could never shut up about on our long telephone conversations of the year of 1980. I may have switched phone companies, but he managed to switch lifetimes. A short while ago, the Triple-A, of whom I'm a member of this club for automobile drivers, checked out the car, and could find no reason at all for why this is happening. Tomorrow, I will have to fucking take it to a place that he told me to take it to, and hope for the fucking best, or else I'm totally mother fucking screwed. Now I know that when SCYLKLA says jump, tired or not, it means JUMP, not Pointer Sisters, not Braxton sisters, not annoying phone calls, not later on, but how high, how far, and what color freaking ass shirt do you want me to be wearing . This is what the great DAUGHTER is all about, SHE IS THAT SHE IS, with no beginning and no ending. As for the parlor tricks and miracles, they have the magic flashlight, and they always have had it, Harry Potter, so we all obey HER, or ELSE, Elsie Burr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Not only does McKinnon have power over the world now in ways not fathomable to Earth creatures or waking world conscious mind connection signal from D-6, but totally seems to be able to make all communications companies do his bidding, now it appears that AT&T as well as COMCAST, may be complicit, I will know in a couple of days, and he knows what I'm referring to. I intend to file charges at the Miami office of the FBI, if I cannot pull up that shit by Friday. This shit stops right now, today, or BURR!!!!!!!!
POWERFUL QUAKES AND FIRES AND TWISTERS AND FLOODS AND DROUGHTS AND AIR CRASHES, WILL BE UNFATHOMABLY BAD VERY SOON, AS I'VE FUCKING HAD IT WITH THIS BULLSHIT FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It is now ten past five, so let me post this fucking blog, and get ready to counter strike. Remember, every time I fucking move, this WOMO scum disease fucks with my car. It is every single mother fucking time, and my blogs FUCKING PROVE THIS ILLEGAL ACTIVITY IS REAL AND NOT FUCKING DELUSIONAL. Would Abby Carmichael be willing to buy into all these non ending fucking coincidences? NO SHE WOULD NOT, and all L&O show fans know it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am forced to mention another item here peeps, Pussy Command, this thing that runs throughout all my 6 years of blogging now, and that UI have become super ass fucking aware of since the eighties turned into the nineties, folks. When I left work and drove over to buy my freaking ice cream; many high school sluts from literally all over the freaking place, were flirting big time with me, here I am, old and ugly, and it is only part of some powerful supernatural event that is far beyond my knowledge; one of World Lab's many PT (PARLOR TRICKS). Every time I get major wild ass fucking PC, I also get all of the nightmares, that go with these great initials, being of course, PERSECUTION, HARASSMENT, PUMMELING, AND DEATH SIEGE, FROM THE MILITUFORCE MILLIONTH COUNCIL WOMO DISEASE.
OBVIOUSLY THE FUCKING CHEATED EVIL DOW JONES CAPITALIST PIGS, ARE WINNING AND WINNING AND WINNING; AND THE MARKET MUST BE UP AROUND ALL TIME FUCKING RECORD HIGHS BY NOW, AFTER ALL THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT, THAT HAS BEEN DONE TO FUCKING ME NOW. NEXT WEEK, UP 1000 MORE, END OF SUMMER, IT WILL BE 20,000 AND END OF 2011, 30,000 FUCKING POINTS, SO MARK MY FUCKING WORDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YO.
I will destroy every single thing on this planet, if you don't get off my back Lenny Backburner Fibbiefuckup! END TRANNY, YE OL' GRANNY, YARRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me insert a quick post script in here folks. You'll be sorry, whoever the fuck you are out here, YO dude!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If somebody on the planet who has a lot of power is not dead within 93 hours of this post, it will be a miracle. Hats off to you Donnie for pulling off so much wonderful shit back in college, YO. Well, maybe if I have to, and it comes down to it, we will really play 50/50, and right there at your wonderful Plaza. Misses Bassler and her great Plaza Place, and her kit who runs magical hotels that change lives yet make the claim, “No big deal”, sheeeeeeeit. Soon it might just be thirty-thirty, and in my lifetime, but then, I am quite used to listening to transdimensional freaking music, it has been going ion now with m,e for thirty one freaking years, right LOIS FOCA?n Still, where is the lost 100 and 100 College Boy?????????????N Come on down and make Queen Bassler happy, ya' clown!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
DEATH FUCKING SIEGE
MAJOR PERSECUTION. FBI
MAJOR FUCKING PROPERTY DAMAGE, FBI
WHERE ARE THE FUCKING FEDS WHEN I NEED HELP?
COMMITTING CRIMINAL ACTS ON ME, THAT'S WHERE,
4 PM, TUESDAY, MAY 17, 2011
FLYERS WILL WIN THE FUCKING STANLEY CUP NOW, AFTER THIS ATTACK.
I WENT TO GET INTO MY CAR, AND THEY FUCKING DAMAGED IT, WHILE I WAS IN THE FORT PIERCE, WINN DIXIE GROCERY FUCKING STORE, AND MY ATM CARD FROM TD BANK, FUCKING VERIFIES THE PURCHASE THAT I HAD JUST MADE THERE, THAT BEING, FOUR BRYERS HALF GALLON ICE CREAMS ON THE BOGO SALE OFFER, ROUGHLY ONE HALF HOPUR BACK AROUND HALF FUCKING PAST THREE OF THE FREAKING CLOCK.
ALSO I AM MOVING SOON, AND AM NOW IN TRANSIT, STILL LIVING HERE, YET ALSO, at the new place, the Housing Authority Building, one of them, as the city has quite a lot of them. Also, a plane is following and stalking me, it was still there when I arrived home, barely making it, with my BATTERY idiot light indicator light on in my vehicle's dashboard. When I got in the mother fucking door, the light in my bedroom, did not want to go on, it was plugged in, and nothing is wrong with the bulb, it is working now, and so I know this, but at first, it acted up for no fucking reason explainable whatsoever.
Quite obviously this is a major super FUCKING BOTBAR DAY, this stands for in case you do not follow these blogs, Bottom Of The Barrel, All-ready Rated, b—o—t—b—a—r!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT IS AN UNGLY SOUNDING WORD, AND IT MEANS JUST WHAT IT SEEMS TO SOUND AND MEAN, a nightmare fucking hell on me, THAT ALL SEEMED TO BEGIN OUT OF THE BLUE, on the 15th fucking day in August, in the year of mother fucking 1986, and has never once looked back fucking since, YO players!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Last night, Scylla came into my head around just past midnight, or actually this early morning, and I could not shake it. She insisted that I blog something right then and there, at that moment. I was simply too tired. Diana even warned me that if I did not do it for HER, I'd be in some serious fucking shit ass trouble, BOOM<, not that long afterward, I was driving away from the Winn Dixie Food Store, and POW; the car was lurching and jumping all around, and did not want reach up to the normal highway speed, and also; the battery light on the dash board came on. I was very fucking lucky to make it home, as it was five or six miles of having to drive the vehicle in this totally fucked up condition. Usually, I do not make it to the desired destination, when this diseased WOMO ENEMY MILITUFORCE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL shit happens, as they have that it all planned and fucking mapped out, but this time, somehow; I fucking lucked fucking out peeps, YO. It seems so silly and Mack Kaiter ridiculous, but Scylla is Scylla, and when she commands, you must obey, OR ELSE.
She simply wanted me to tell the world that in HER song called, LOVE IS FOR XCARPENTERS, when HER lyrics that imply that SHE loves ME beyond any other name, that she sees things in a total genealogical oneness, and my family, according to the great MASON LODGE, and according to researcher and historian, Geraldine Snow, also my aunt before she died in the early eighties from ALS, under the now existing name of HUNTINGTON, is within two male outs maximum dating all the way to the existing Huntington's of Long Island right now today, all the way back to King David. In other words, SHE was not violating HER own words by saying that my name is higher than any other in HER opinion, as really, she means the name in the 21st century of today's world and times, of HUNTINGTON. She chose Nazareth to into into our STW material world, when my 61st grandfather's uncle was born, and given the name of JESUS. Still, this of course involved Mary using the FASCITAR, in order to reach the Great City of David, known by a very few mortals as Sahasra Dal Kanwal, and when there, HER DAD, the Great and Mighty NEPTUNE-JUPITER JAPTARAMA CAVELANTISOCLEEVIOUS KRASSLE, IMPREGNATED THIS INCREDIBLE VIQUEEN, OF WHOM SHE REALLY IS, IN HER TRUER ASTRAL EXISTENCE, AND MANY POWERFUL SECRETS ARE INVOLVED WITH THE SUPER SECRET SYSTEM OF THE RECENTLY PRINTED BY ME, “FASCITAR”. This precise English tongue word, translates if spoken in the ancient secret language of Aramaic, into “TOOL OF TRHE RASTAFARIAN, something that MISTER Lenny McKinnon could never shut up about on our long telephone conversations of the year of 1980. I may have switched phone companies, but he managed to switch lifetimes. A short while ago, the Triple-A, of whom I'm a member of this club for automobile drivers, checked out the car, and could find no reason at all for why this is happening. Tomorrow, I will have to fucking take it to a place that he told me to take it to, and hope for the fucking best, or else I'm totally mother fucking screwed. Now I know that when SCYLKLA says jump, tired or not, it means JUMP, not Pointer Sisters, not Braxton sisters, not annoying phone calls, not later on, but how high, how far, and what color freaking ass shirt do you want me to be wearing . This is what the great DAUGHTER is all about, SHE IS THAT SHE IS, with no beginning and no ending. As for the parlor tricks and miracles, they have the magic flashlight, and they always have had it, Harry Potter, so we all obey HER, or ELSE, Elsie Burr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Not only does McKinnon have power over the world now in ways not fathomable to Earth creatures or waking world conscious mind connection signal from D-6, but totally seems to be able to make all communications companies do his bidding, now it appears that AT&T as well as COMCAST, may be complicit, I will know in a couple of days, and he knows what I'm referring to. I intend to file charges at the Miami office of the FBI, if I cannot pull up that shit by Friday. This shit stops right now, today, or BURR!!!!!!!!
POWERFUL QUAKES AND FIRES AND TWISTERS AND FLOODS AND DROUGHTS AND AIR CRASHES, WILL BE UNFATHOMABLY BAD VERY SOON, AS I'VE FUCKING HAD IT WITH THIS BULLSHIT FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It is now ten past five, so let me post this fucking blog, and get ready to counter strike. Remember, every time I fucking move, this WOMO scum disease fucks with my car. It is every single mother fucking time, and my blogs FUCKING PROVE THIS ILLEGAL ACTIVITY IS REAL AND NOT FUCKING DELUSIONAL. Would Abby Carmichael be willing to buy into all these non ending fucking coincidences? NO SHE WOULD NOT, and all L&O show fans know it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am forced to mention another item here peeps, Pussy Command, this thing that runs throughout all my 6 years of blogging now, and that UI have become super ass fucking aware of since the eighties turned into the nineties, folks. When I left work and drove over to buy my freaking ice cream; many high school sluts from literally all over the freaking place, were flirting big time with me, here I am, old and ugly, and it is only part of some powerful supernatural event that is far beyond my knowledge; one of World Lab's many PT (PARLOR TRICKS). Every time I get major wild ass fucking PC, I also get all of the nightmares, that go with these great initials, being of course, PERSECUTION, HARASSMENT, PUMMELING, AND DEATH SIEGE, FROM THE MILITUFORCE MILLIONTH COUNCIL WOMO DISEASE.
OBVIOUSLY THE FUCKING CHEATED EVIL DOW JONES CAPITALIST PIGS, ARE WINNING AND WINNING AND WINNING; AND THE MARKET MUST BE UP AROUND ALL TIME FUCKING RECORD HIGHS BY NOW, AFTER ALL THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT, THAT HAS BEEN DONE TO FUCKING ME NOW. NEXT WEEK, UP 1000 MORE, END OF SUMMER, IT WILL BE 20,000 AND END OF 2011, 30,000 FUCKING POINTS, SO MARK MY FUCKING WORDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YO.
I will destroy every single thing on this planet, if you don't get off my back Lenny Backburner Fibbiefuckup! END TRANNY, YE OL' GRANNY, YARRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me insert a quick post script in here folks. You'll be sorry, whoever the fuck you are out here, YO dude!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If somebody on the planet who has a lot of power is not dead within 93 hours of this post, it will be a miracle. Hats off to you Donnie for pulling off so much wonderful shit back in college, YO. Well, maybe if I have to, and it comes down to it, we will really play 50/50, and right there at your wonderful Plaza. Misses Bassler and her great Plaza Place, and her kit who runs magical hotels that change lives yet make the claim, “No big deal”, sheeeeeeeit. Soon it might just be thirty-thirty, and in my lifetime, but then, I am quite used to listening to transdimensional freaking music, it has been going ion now with m,e for thirty one freaking years, right LOIS FOCA?n Still, where is the lost 100 and 100 College Boy?????????????N Come on down and make Queen Bassler happy, ya' clown!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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