SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 182

MAJOR COMPUTER HACKING AT 1 am, fsp, mcdowell, & fbi.
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 182
START:

tweet-tweet-tweet, my Gina. I TOLD YOU, FULL EVIL EMPIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Meant to say September 30,2008, not October 5, on prior blog, but both these blogs are major ass powerful, huh Jewelly??????????????????????? Say hi to 168-DCR 4-me, YO.

END:

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 181

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 181
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY

START:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

END TRANSMISSION, YO.

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 180

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 180
DATFILE: CH-180-063011.362
THURSDAY MORNING, ENDING
DAY OF FIRST HALF OF 2K11
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995/4TH SUB:
“NIGHTMARES SQUARED, WITHOUT
TPB'S RASPBERRY VALLEY”
WORLD LABS OF 2297, SEND-BACK-TEXT
COPYRIGHTED © BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2011
PROTECTED LEGAL INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY
CONTAINED IN MANY OF THESE BLOGS OF
MORE THAN FIVE YEARS, CLAIMS BEING
ADVISED AND NOTICE OFFICIALLY GIVEN

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

I WENT TO BED AROUND ONE OR TWO, AND GOT UP AROUND JUST SHY OF 7 THIS MORNING. I HAD SOME WILD AND MAJOR INTERACTIONS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BED, THAT I WILL TRY AND TELL A LITTLE BIT ABOUT RIGHT NOW, BACK ON THIS SIDE OF THE BED. FIRST OFF, A BED DOES NOT FLIP AROUND AS WE ALL KNOW, AND UNDERNEATH IT IS MERELY A FLOOR, NOT ANOTHER WORLD. BUT SMART PEEPS KNOW TOTALLY THAT NOTHING IS REALLY REAL EXCEPT FOR THE VOID INFINITY, ALSO KNOWN AS EWI OR THE BLOOMBERG RIPOFF OF THE JESSE FOOTBALL YEARS, AND OUT FROM THIS TOTAL NOTHINGNESS, COMES A CREATED FORCE THAT USES THE POWER OF MOVING FROM LESS THAN NOTHING INTO NOTHING, AS A LIMITLESS LAUNCHING PAD, INTO A BRAND NEW EXISTENCE AND INTO A TOTALLY NEW CLOSED CURVE INFINITY, BEYOND THE ONE JUST ESCAPED FROM.

I am not shouting despite internet protocol, merely making a gargantuan point in my first paragraph, so that these following paragraphs get your attention a little better, hopefully anyway. I was minding my own business and lost my waking world awareness before even shutting down my television and putting away a snack that I was eating, and fell into a very surreal and major vivid, dreaming experience and interaction. My daughter PEE, as she always has insisted on being called by this nickname that she gave to herself as a very small child, was about sixteen years old, and it was early in October in the year of 2014, as a calendar that was circled, was visually hanging from a bright yellow wall in a corridor that resembled her detention center, only it was different as well, as was not a detention center, but a college dorm. She was a co-ed, and had a boyfriend that she seemed to like quite well, and I did not like him all that much, but what father ever approves of his daughter's boyfriends? Paula King Junior, or Pee, was there with him, and I also was there, and remember the layout of 3 rooms, a corridor, and could describe details perfectly to a police detective or investigator with no trouble whatsoever, as it was this vivid and clear. I could describe both my daughter and the boy, the only thing that if I was privy of, that no longer remains in my conscious world memory, would be the name of the boy that she was tight with. He was slender and athletic in appearance with sandy blond hair, just over six feet tall, wearing bright colored clothes, neatly arranged hair of average college length for today's times, and had a very unusual speaking voice that is a bit difficult to describe, almost robotic, as though the dude was a constructed android from the future, lacking the science fiction television show android 'Data' on TNG-Star Trek's sophisticated normally sounding human type of voice. My daughters' physical beauty is beyond description, and all though she is stunning at twelve for a child, had indeed blossomed into young womanhood and would most definitely make a heavenly angel, jealous and angry of her unfathomable goddess-like beauty, and awesome power. The two of them were debating a word that sounded very similar to the World war Two event known as the Comocosi Pilots who intentionally crashed their fighter jets into the American Aircraft Carrier Transport Ships. It was a word sounding like the word Comocosi, spelled the gods only know how and not recognized by Spell-Checker, as WW-2 will not be either given one or two centuries obviously, in this absurdly fast moving paced society of ours, however, it was not exactly this word, and my daughter pronounced it for me, and never told me the meaning of it, and then the two of them continued debating this while I went straight ahead into a room from the ending corridor, and they went from a room from the left, into a room that was off to the right, all lit up bright and very colorfully. After a time, I came to learn that I was in a very non-localized parallel universe where it was a few years ahead in time as well, and that in this part of the hyperspace, I was not Pee's father, only a friend of the family. A short while later, I was invited, along with my mother, to a party at this college, and we showed up, and it was suddenly two or maybe as much as 3 or 4 days later, but no more. There were name tags near a table where we were all supposed to sit down at, only they had not been put up yet, and I remember asking how the seating arrangements were supposed to be, and my mother made a mean nasty comment, and then told me practically to sit down anywhere, and shut up. I was aware in the self here dreaming through this hyperspace doppelganger-me, that she had been making many very biting remarks at me throughout the day, and I was growing quite angry about it. I remember turning to her where she was sitting on a love seat next to a friend of hers who also was sitting on another loveseat or small couch that was almost but not quite the twin of the one my mother was on, and I chose any old spot around this dinner table that was very large but not banquet sized, and once I was seated, I turned to her, and looked right at her, and said this exact thing to her, “Mom, do you have any idea how much I would give if you just had picked one less time in your life to have sex with my dad, precisely 53 years ago”. My mind seemed to know, over there, that I had just turned age 52 years and 3 months of age, and since 9 months is the average human time for making a baby, we all know what this very cutting counter remark of mine to my mother, was all about. She then began to cry like a little baby, and before she broke down, an expression of agonizing pain came over her face that was inconceivable. Every facial muscle involved in making a face displaying torture in either the mind or the body, was transfixing her normal face into an almost hideous one, contorted and twisted and wrinkled from the extreme emotional heartbreak and excruciating painful emotions, that were obviously surging through her entire beingness. She began balling loudly and sobbing in a totally unrelenting way, and I never saw anyone in my entire life in all of my remembered experiences of all of my hyperspace travels, ever cry this passionately, convulsively, and lengthy. It just continued to go on and on and on and on. But let me stop the description of this very unpleasant agonizing nightmare now, and look at the two opposing time references. Originally, before the party, I was in a place where my daughter had recently reached the age of sixteen years, which takes place on September the 29th, in 2014. But at the party, that she and her boyfriend had invited both my mother and myself to, I remember distinctly being age 52 years and 3 months old, meaning it was early in March in the year of 2008. This was the beginning of my 70-day off-line period, just mentioned on my previous blog, SJ-CH-179, posted up yesterday about 20 minutes or so before the closing bell on Wall Street at 4 PM-EDST. So first, I am in early 10th month in 2014, and then find myself at this party, back in the first week in month 3, in 2008. Both times are roughly 39 months away from the present, only first it is ahead in time by this amount, and then it is backward in time by this amount, leaving the present time dead set in the very middle of all of this wild shit. I also came to learn that in this particular universe, Pee never tried to kill the large African-American New Jersey State Police Trooper who shot me dead in the back in another parallel universe, when she would have been a small child of about 7 or 8 years, and was sentenced, and sent to the Egg Harbor, New Jersey, 'Harborfields' Detention Center, on Route 561, a place existing for a very long time, right here in this part of the hyperspace; and this exact atomically matching universe in hyperspace, and visited often by, and connected with and through; many powerful New Jersey law enforcement persons, that all are somehow connected with it, and all entangled with the many powers to be, in Atlantic City, including the EX-Mayor Robert Levy, married to Ethel Levy, whose distant cousin is a distant cousin to Mariah Carey's paternal grandfathers 3rd cousin twice removed. This is quite a distant family relation, yet always remember, this world is asking a lot of me when they tell me to chalk up as a silly coincidence, the 20 year recurring dream of this Egg Harbor School for no apparent reason whatsoever, and named the same name as the actual Suffolk County, New York, high school where Mariah Carey graduated from in 1987, and hopefully after taking some very good advice given to her by an older boy, my-my and gee-whiz-RGG, I wonder who, © Examiners? People are asking me to buy into a lot more wild coincidences than the television show called, “Law and Order” ever expects their ADA's and their prosecutors, to buy into; as how many times is what I say here confirmed in that show, just in the three personalities of ADA Serena Sutherland, ADA Abbey Carmichael, and ADA and later turned top dog DA, MISTER Jack McCoy, himself, YO? It really is not fair, but then world, Jim Burr said to me one day a statement that I'll obviously take to my mother freaking grave, and this being, “Mark, it isn't a fair world”, another 1983 footnote to be 2011 inserted, into the Blogs of mountainpen, BRAHHHH!!!!!!!

I know that the man at work yesterday told me what he told me, this is no dream, and I am not confusing dimensions, or you might see it as 'dreams with real life', due to lack of proven science in this time period regarding hyperspace, exploratronic sciences, controlled-dreaming; and the circuitry and system, that drives all of these things, and lays well hidden, all behind the mighty invisible OZCS.

Well Dawn King passed into waking truth and away from this dream on New Years Day, Sarah is in a nursing home forever with seizures, Mayor Whaelon is hospitalized following a nasty stroke, Mayor Levy destroyed his own life with substance abuse and pain killers following his back surgery, and one by one, this great family, is falling. I am not against them as a unit, as when looked at in the large full tree that I have stretched out on my dining room table, this total population out to about 7 cousins, comprises about 2,840 persons, and naturally, they are not all out to get me, as why would they be? But playing just a little ordinary Google game tells the truth about how to wrap this entire thing up, as one close in member to all of this problem with me, is indeed the one, who always had the interest in things of a supernatural nature, and IMHO, has somehow, for reasons known only to this great soul, planned all of this, right down to the non-chance encounter I had in 1986 in Manhattan.

Nice hearing from you PP, yes, I will most definitely take your advice, and am glad you gave it to me, as what could I know about this, and after-all, you personally experienced it. I'm very sorry that these bastard doctors put you in so much pain . You personally know how they mishandled my mother and her mysterious and totally unknown medical condition in 1998 right after we met and shortly before we started up Studio Park Records. Paula is behind all of it, and I was only getting a shoe in the doorway back when I thought distant cousin Sarah Callio was the prime ingredient in all of this, or the mysterious teen of my past. I think the entire world has realized that maybe the great Lisa Dyfis is right after-all, with her nasty accusations of me. It corresponds with the last time for me up there to visit my Huntington/Gottwald relatives. Yes MI's wonderful mom, my elusive teen, wow, and Misses Bassler wanted me to write the greatest ghost story book in the world back in 1997. Well, maybe I will someday, called 'BOB-3'. After-all, the BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN already twin out to BOB-2, YO. Paul, this is big, study it all carefully, and don't come to any hasty conclusions. Then we can seriously talk man to man, about music, the industry; and why I refuse to sell my soul to the proverbial devil, just to be played, and receive money. I'd rather work making donuts in the morning, and keep the cops awake; so they'll be alert and catch the crooks that endanger my life every single day. But yes, I can't wait to hook up, so if you are reading this today, my phone will be on-hook both today and tomorrow, late in the afternoon, and I'll make it a point to be home. Gimme a call, and we will really catch up on some big shit. We can go as far as you wanna go, and when you say stop, we'll stop, no prob. But you do need to know that I work directly with rappers with real street cred and real connections, and I am here to tell you, I want no parts of the music industry, ever again, NONE. Still, I am in a poker game with the forces of this world, PP, and it may appear soon that I am trying something, but it's only to prove my civil rights have been violated all of my life, so that I'll be able to hire the best attorney out of Harvard Law and sue literally for billions in damages, I do have lots of proof that both of us were messed with, and stopped, but I am not here to convince you of anything, so we will just have a nice fun talk. Go Phillies, talk to you soon bud!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Be good everybody, it will pay off!

END TWANSMISSION, WABBIT, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 179

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 179
KING GARBAGEMAN
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
4TH SUBTITLE OF BLOG:
“TONYWOOD, CHINESE GIRLS,
GOLDSTEIN'S AND GOLDBERG'S”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPUKE

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

Some huge ass mother fucking bastard is playing a nightmare game of horrors with me, and very soon, MANY FUCKING PEOPLE'S EXPIRATION DATE WILL HIT. You think this is funny do you, well, laugh on, as your blood turns into a small flowing river.

Too much is happening, as well as too much shit that's just too unbelievable, to even try and tell or blog. 97-99% of the time, things are no different than the lives of most peeps. It is the 1-3% that is so mother fucking outlandishly unfathomable, that is being made reference to in these words here. I never said that a lot of my shit could not read like “Beaver Cleaver's famous diary, up to the point of his exaggerations of fakeness. I merely contend that in-between all of the 'went to school', 'fed the stray cat', and 'came back home' stuff, we would insert some major shit, and it would not be one bit phony or fake, BEVE. So while you and good old 'Wolly' crunch and munch down your cold cereal in 1983, let me tell you that I too was eating my cereal along with you guys, only it is what happens after this on many days while my address was 134 Norris Avenue, Atco, New Jersey, USAESMWG, that caused top secret US government agencies to take my telephone offline for an hour or more while I was at my eye doctor out in Narberth, Pennsylvania, USAESMWG, and do a lot more fucking shit than refer to my automobile as the “Blue Nunngan”, whatever secret code word that stands the mother fuck for, YO. Oh well, at least they didn't talk about the Blue Parrot out into negative space by the hexnumer light-year, or about 96.13 trillion fucking miles.

Before we get into a short story today, let me give a few examples of these potential insertions. How about in-between going to work or school, depending on the age difference, our little old dear diary would receive an entry such as, ran into a man who insisted that he did not pull out of his work-jacket, yesterday, three carpet knives, and showed them too me and offered to let me borrow one to cut a carpet that I have, when I see him tomorrow, and this was yesterday, only now, the dude says, “Do you dream in color too?”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is a fucking church going religious man who I would legally vouch for under oath as a man who would not tell me a lie or make up a story, unless perhaps under the sufficient deres to make any of us do such a thing as say for an example, his recently kidnapped daughter, who will be slowly killed if he did not lie. Sorry folks, even I'm not paranoid enough to believe some BFA (Black File Agency) is doing this, hay, I could always be wrong and believe it or not, actually be under paranoid. Somehow though folks,. I doubt this quite tremendously, and this should help to verify to my readership, that I am sane and rational, despite a powerful and totally unexplainable story that's seemingly going on around me, and has been since a lovely goddess in 1980, sang as very special song to me, by the name of “Love Is fir Carpenters”, while asleep in as mother fucking dream, and yes in major ass color, with full bigger than life sound!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Then instead of just petting a stray cat, how about permitting me to add that I set up the great Google, in a similar way that I set up the great Arista record Company early in the mother fucking nineteen-eighties, and they ripped off a song from me and the way it was done was also used in the idea and promotion of this song, and the name of this magnetic song, RESORTSD HOTEL, is called, “ROCK THIS TOWBN”, YO, Boston Pops, the MET, and the great Philharmonic's Fred Hinger, all notwithstanding, BRAHH. Oh well, there's some puss and plus out of this day, SPEKLL WRECKER CHECKER doesn't even recognize your mighty record label, Clayton Smith and the Asshole-Gang of morons and cheaters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So now, BEVE, I Cleave, to my next insertion. Before writing on my dear-diary life journal, after petting the stray cat, or really what happened pertaining to STRAY CATS, now before we write in, came back home, let me say that I could say quite a few things. Some of these things would fucking include seeing the same chopper that messes with me quite often, some bitch from Workforce giving me her fucking lip and attitude at the time clock, for nothing at all, as she stepped totally out of line, and then gave me shit for jumping her. I told her that she could most gladly have her place back, and that I did not mean to jump in front of her. She is a very fucking evil and nasty person, and also is a good friend of the guy in my ugly recent nightmare, who in this horrendous mother fucking-ass nightmare, was my boss back at Cifaloglio; and his quote to me, after picking me up physically, and threatening violence on me, in the dream; was, “You never really liked me”. In truth, I have bent over backwards to always assist this dude at work. His pal, was the thug from Smithtown, in SCNY, on Nick's marching orders; or so I once thought, but now, and today; a new light has surfaced, causing me to reexamine and totally fucking reevaluate, as the great disco-diva Donna Summer used to put it so eloquently back in 1980, all of this entire fucking mess. Stanley, you have indeed gotten me in to a gigantic horrific mess, dude!!!!!!!!!

Neither Nick Cannon or Mariah Carey are behind any of this, other than being related to the one who is, the one who always has been fascinated with this entire mess from the swing bat, and learned how to master a powerful secret thing that makes the SECRET that was so big and world circulated back around the time circa when this all began happening to me following the games expert coming to my Oaklyn Apartment, and then the 70-day downline time where I was totally off of the fucking computer grid, longer even than when I switched my residences from New Jersey to Florida, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh 'Shidaleedee' and purple for us all in the fall, Mister Trump. Well, you have been a thorn in my mother fucking side for a very long time, and have managed to somehow survive all of my counter-strikes so perfectly well, with your quite fabulous and charmed life, rotor blades all notwithstanding. Laugh this one off college boy. I have a man who will swear in a court of law, several things that you have done to me, so if we all live to trial date, the entire world is going to know a lot of shit about all of this, and I cannot promise to let the mighty TAWF out of it, as they most certainly, are in it, as are you Donnie Blackboats. Not all of your friends are as loyal as you might think, you diseased mother fucking jack off. Still, just how does this shit, all fit into the Fascitar, and Paula Multiwoman, and her fascination with me for 50 million years, and how can it all be totally linked up in with the middle nineties and Morianity? Well folks, it all fits like a beautiful smooth lovely glove. The joke of this is that powerful peeps in Washington, DC totally know my entire nightmare story is real, and has been all along. Some who I now list can deny it until fucking doomsday, BUT THEY TOTALLY KNOW IT'S ALL TOTALLY TRUE, so help me Goddess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! These would be: Congressman Robert Andrews, Admiral Perry, Charles Colson, head of the NASA Space Agency, top brass in the CIA, NSA, and SS, Joseph Berrios, Donald J. Trump, Paula B. King (awake and asleep), Robert McDowell, and the list goes on but is less powerful in NR. Here is a powerful piece of information for peeps that may choose to endlessly doubt my words and accuse me of ranting and insanity.

Take a fan with blades and look through it and you will see only the open space into what is on the other side of the fan. Place it in front of venetian blinds, and watch how many of the blinds disappear. Mind, your brain, your thoughts, whatever you think that you are, is on a carrier wave and a signal that brings this source-mind, to your individuality that's trapped inside of a shell or a physical body that is alive in a so-called space-time continuum, only it goes far beyond this in truth, as the Wesley Crusher's and the Gene Roddenberry's know fully well. Powerful light amplifies many realities, even emotions. Police use their lights in a covert unknown extra ingredient type of way. We all know how when we're stopped in the dead of night in contrast with the darkness, how those blinding flashing colored lights in our rear-view mirror, make our hearts pound like a bass drum with no help whatsoever from Fred Hinger or Hal Blaine. Our human physical world memories are the most susceptible however, to the effect of a strobe-light. Watch the venetian blinds vanish, and then know that memories are very delicate, a lot more delicate than your stupid ass venetian fucking blinds, folks, YO! I could say a lot more, but I knew when I was fucked with by that nasty ass fire alarm yesterday morning, that lots of trouble was looming in my near ass horizon, and Stanley was not gonna be getting me out of this one, only digging me a much deeper hole and fast.

What pisses me off more than spending eternity in hell with a toothache, is that a lady in the US Copyright Office could have spared me about 38 months of super grief, and chose instead to keep her mother fucking mouth shut, and this did far more than get somebody kicked off of some lousy welfare benefits, WOMO.

I owe you a huge apology, mister Cannon, please try and accept it. Thank you in advance. Obviously, this is not going to be buried in the sand, right Mayor Whaelon? Three down, and how many more to go is kind of up to Mister Hose's great special daughter, and her Brand New Whitekey Nurocky, right Estelle Ormund?????????????????

END TRANSMISSION: Forget the WHAAAAAAAAA. I am so not in the fucking mood today, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 178

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 178
KING NEBNOOSHOO
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
NO 4TH SUBTITLE TO THIS BLOG
COPYRIGHT © 2006-2011,
MARK WAYNE MOHR/MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2294, SEND-BACK-TEXT
DATE-AND-TIME FILE: 062611.323.555555555

Beginning Transmission:

I have had the computer messed with for a fifth straight blog session while posting up my last blog work, SJ-CH-177. My internet explorer system went down for no reason as soon as I logged onto the freaking ass internet. The clock was back on earlier time, the address for the computer matched %#^*% 36th Avenue, San Mateo, California, AGAIN. I of course went in the control panel and repaired all of the reset dials to bring things back to the normal Fort Pierce time, weather, and e-mail address, matching my true time and residence locale. This must all be so much fun, huh Road-Trip-Dude. You know old pal, we did have a pretty cool time that early October, just before your birthday, on that strange and outlandish road trip, only you instantly zoomed us both way ahead in time somehow, to more than three weeks past your birthday, and all the way to the circa of nearly the Halloween times of 2008, where we first went up to a hotel in Boston, and later you finished up some private business in the city, and then we returned back over to Philadelphia, where we saw the huge World Series Winning Parade for the Phillies Champions. Of course, I awoke from this wild interaction back in the time I was part of, and that was in the first week in October, nearly a month before the actual event took place.

I suffered no heart attack after posting the last blog, and needing to reset the address and clock for my IP computer address, for the 20th plus time now, resulting from the whims of the mighty cannonball; but I did suffer another wild unexplainable major ass heat-attack. The air conditioner kept being set lower and lower, and I was perfectly comfortable at first when it was set at about 79 degrees, ranging it to operate automatically, running a one or two degree tolerance around that setting. I however, suddenly felt the overwhelming need to lower and lower this temperature setting, and was profusely sweating at the setting of 72 degrees. After a while, my body recovered from whatever force had fucking struck it; and I am now barely comfortable at a somewhat normally chilly 72 degrees. Except in the brightest 4 hours or so of the middle later afternoon and early evening, the 79 degree setting is all I need to maintain a good level of physical comfort, but when these unexplainable heat-attacks, strike me peeps, it is like a woman, at that 'time of monthly life'. I seem to magically be coming out of this surreal heat-attack, again, like the one that I blog-reported quite recently, during another blog's dictation on the word processor system, but will maintain the current air conditioner settings, for a while yet; before starting to slowly raise them up a bit.

Yes yesterday blew me away folks. First I added up my new LIDMOLB GAWNUM NUMBERS, or shortened we will refer to them from now on as (LGN). These numbers tell powerful stories and messages, by working out their simple LGNT, or TOTALS. For an example, MY LGN=581. Now Mariah's LGN=521. Totaling these figures up brings us the answer sum of 1102. While discussing how Gawky Gaukauk showed me at the Carey house in 1975, the GAWNUM GAS FORMULA, while I had been somehow taken there in my 'sleep' abducted from the Marhouse of Blueberryville, New Jersey, also referred to as, Sir Prince, the Blueberry World Capitol, and called officially on the New Jersey, USAESMWG maps, as HAMMONTON. Only one blog talks about the GASV GAWNUM EQUATION, on October the 5th in the year of 2008. But also in this blog, is a major error on my part, where I say I am the king of the wusses, and should have answered my door that day at 506 Robin Hill Apartments, in Voorhees township, in New Jersey, USAESMWG. Well, adding up my LG# along with Mariah's LG# and this would come to 581+521, and this would naturally equal out to the sum of 1102, the correct apartment, the one that my blog in error, should have stated was where I lived when that TPB'ME' on the roof, knocked on my door, totally insisting on talking to me right then and there, and warning me, that by my not opening the door, I will live to regret it for the rest of my life. I still never opened the door to this strange African American neighbor lady. I was scared, paranoid, and did not know what I felt inwardly about what was happening around me, and simply made a judgment call at the time that appeared to be the most logical and reasonable one at the time. Bare in mind folks that for about 3 years or so, my life turned literally upside down, and I was suddenly finding myself under a wicked and frightening daily major siege, and persecution, whether outside, or even inside my own private dwelling; as it was a non-stop fucking relentless hell, literally a covert secretly declared war by some government agency so secret that it has no letters or ID, and technically it does not exist, should some miracle ever permit my blowing a cover off of some operation of theirs, and it sticks; and the global media would get it out coast to coast and round the world, before it could be squashed, and silenced; as well as me.

It hit me like lightning about that nightmare after the hack came while trying to log off a couple of hours back. Remember how I was in a room that had no visible barriers, yet they were somehow just known to be there. You've just about all had dreams of similarity. So don't bother lying either to me or to yourself. You know, you just know something is reality, in a dream, like you just know in this waking dream, that should you walk into a police station waving a gun, and ranting that you are about to hurt some people, even before one thing escalates against you and your situation, unless you are totally as dumb as jello, you just know that you are now about to begin to have, most likely; one of, if not thee worst days, of your entire life. But back to the room, and Nick, telling me some horrible shit. I honestly forget the entire beginning to this nightmare now, it is totally gone from my memory, but I did blog it, so if I ever want to force the memory to return of this, consciously; all I need to do is to simply access the older blog on my site.

Back now to the newest and third part of the GAWNUM STUDIES. All things always pertain to the root of the 81 numbers, this is a universal non-changing constant. The simple rule is to work out the gas equation, then the normal private cosimcoded number, and from here, three digits are picked in a sort of counter-clockwise order, and here is how this works, it is not complex at all, just listen up and learn, folks, YO. Here is an example used on the blog where I talk about my Astral-Travels to the Carey home in 1975, and saw MC trying to show me her powerful magical strobe-light, and every time that her father turned his back for a quick time, and she was able to get me to see it, before he turned in the direction of the strange hallway that resembled a closet,again, and towards us; she would deactivate the light and smirk at him, but he knew, and he took it away from her and did not follow the advice of then quite famous, Doctor Spock. But let me get back to what he said later on directly to me about this numerological system, that in its origin; was not all that different from what his wife was showing me on a bus outside a bar somewhere in Philadelphia, in the summertime or early autumn somewhere, in 1980, while he was on her lap, and meowing over and over again, only the word “DIE” was clearly being meowed. This is what he said.

First he had all ready shown me before this wild interaction, the PCN alpha-numeric way of getting normal and regular Private Cosmicoded Numbers, such as mine which is PCN-871. Then the secret of the GAS Equation was revealed to me, explained in the early October oh-eight blog, where we add digits one and two together, instead of the other way where we ere subtracting them, in order to arrive at the digit-3. But to get an answer, a one-time answer, or maybe better said, not so much an answer, as a revelation to a pertinent event or situation, It is no longer early Sunday morning by the way. It is half past five in the evening. I fell dead asleep at this computer for a very long time. I've awakened to more of SSJK's strobe-light, the skies are dark, lovely flashing lightning is here so near to me, and I love my strobe-light, and my SSJKK way beyond even that in ways just not speakable. I just asked HER in my mind, where are you, and SHE flashed off to my left in the west, a luscious pink white lightning flash. I LOVE YOU SO, SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, my endless lovely teenager. SHE heard this too, SHE just blinded me with a thunder-crashing strobe light filled with lovely colorful blends of awesome beauty. Bbbbbbbbbbbritofioau. You are beyond beautiful, LIGHTNING. This is a greater performance than yesterday, my endless teen love. My machine has been hacked, it will not let me save, and comes up as a save-error instead of letting me save the document in the normal way. Whenever I reopen and continue on a document, I notice this is another hack I fucking get from the mighty ass Lattisaw Jack-Attack gang of illegal civil rights violator hackers. Lightning is making colors so beautiful that I am literally crying, but must now concentrate on completing not my Privecode call, but my word document blog SJ-CH 178. The regular PCN, then the CGN, or Cosmic-Gas-Number, are both written down based on the root, and there are as you should know by now Mister Joel, 81 roots, from 11-99, in math-base-9. So using the 53-ROOT, or as I love to call it, the ANGEL-CODE, the PCN is 532, the CGN is 5308, and the LDMOLB-NUMBER becomes the end right digit CGN, followed by the starting left digit CGN, followed by the far right digit of the PCN. This now gives us the LN-852. My LN when added up with SSJK's human life LN, or my 581 plus HER 521, equals 1102. The revelation that this tells is that I screwed up on my blog where I tell about being in HER house and SHE showing me HER strobe-light, and I said later on the blog that it was 506 Robin Hill Apartments where I met the ME ENTITY as told in the book I wrote in 1994, © registered, “The Permission Barrier. This happened not in #506, but in Apartment Number 1102. This LN system adds the two LN together, but unlike doing comparisons with totals to see if any digits match up with both of the numbers used making up this total, with this, we do this to learn a hidden truth, in the very number of the answer, in this case the sum answer of 1102, showing me that I screwed up in that nearly three year old blog by saying Apt. #506. This machine is being super hacked, and since this storm may worsen, I better post since I cannot save until I get somebody over here tomorrow to help me with all this hacking fucking shit, ROBERGT MCDOWELL, SIR, thanks for not helping me, it is real bad for me right now buddy, and HAS BEEN, YO!!!!!!!!!!

END TRANSMISSION, MAGNESONIC HELP ME, MMMMMMMMMM. STOP.

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 177

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 177
WLSBT DATFILE: CH-177-062611.068
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
MORIANITY PROJECT 1995
“WHAT ARE THEY TRULY HIDING FOLKS?”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2011
PROTECTED LEGAL INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY
OF MARK WAYNE MOHR/MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

let us look at a few tiny things lads and lassies and lab dogs, and future workers. First and in no particular order, we have the robbe3ry at Friendly Ice Cream in Northeast Philly in Pennsylvania, USAESMWG, around the time of my '17-AGAIN' days, or really, what caused them. Then we have the GI-FLIES of Haddonwood Swim and Health Club, Tony Zenun the great man of mystery, the box and chain and Russell Thaxton in 1969, Paula and her 'under the boardwalk' antics that the EW knew about and made into a song, Bob Patterson Cheatley at the Medical Institute, large and loud meowing black cats who know more about mathematics than Albert Einstein and Fred Winstein combined and squared, choking lightning machines with alien parts, peeps using me to get born on a minimum of two occasions where one was physical and another metaphysical although this second word could be arguable with both situations, and a cool song called HA-HA-WHO. This is one two-hundredths of a total possible laundry list, and dirty laundry to boot, shoe, and may we never forget unless helped to via a strange beautiful flashlight given the name of Dianarteemis, Mary-Kate Willis Trenton-clubs! In any event, I was looking at the xzyglukial asapian directional digital bordering system of the GAWNUM, that only Gawky Gaukauk and Unlimited Driverlicenseholder Lapbusrider, from 1980; could possibly know about; and beginning to re-figure the 81, as I've named them; Lidmolb Numbers; and low and behold, this project brought my lovely beautiful strobe-light all around me within minutes, and SSJK turned on some of the most beautiful colors I have ever seen. I thought I was going to ejaculate in my shorts looking out my window. Only SSJK can possibly know what I'm talking about, all though Michelle's hubby's cuzz may too, who knows? I'm sure entitled to the opinion that“it can be true”, right Aunt Barbara? Now only top ass hole peeps like DJT and © examiners know what's being said. Unlike you PP, I do copyright all things I do, immediately, that is until recently, but by affixing the label and doing it soon, IT IS INDEED COPYRIGHTED. Whether SSJK knows in human form, or is a sleepwalker like her mother, while here on Earth, is anyone's guess, but it was no coincidence, and I felt my mind being probed, and then instantly out of nowhere, beautiful lightning is everywhere, OH YEAH, RIGHT!!

So Mister Levitt built communities in not just New Jersey and Pennsylvania, well, I'll play along and see if this dude can 'fix' things, even water manholes and old Superman shows. Don't be such a hater, kid. Anyhow, the simple truth is that I have never lied and said a bad thing that was untrue, about one single soul, not ever. I said a few bad things all right, about some peeps, but unfortunately, it was all the truth, Tyra, and I was not, not am I now, afraid one bit, to put my freaking name to it, YO. Maybe he is the future inventor of the real on-line role-play games, discussed on my 2010 blogs around a year ago or so. If so, this is all hyperspace equation, and only extremely sensitive entities such as Whoopee and me, can begin to feel the transdimensional effects, while awake. Still, a lifetime of those Egg Harbor school 'dreams' cannot ever be disputed, not by shrinkology or any logical reasoning process. It CANNOT BE RATIONALLY EXPLAINED AWAY, peeps. We all know this is not fiction, and we also all know that things along the lines of Ufology and stuff that wipe out the church of humankind or advance the reality of humankind consciousness, same difference, cannot be permitted by the governing authorities in this backward cave dinosaur time period of 2011.

Sorry to hear the news about your super sister, Frank Callio. People seem to reap what they so, unless they are under the Huntington-Curse. Then you can reap all the good in the world, and all you'll ever get is pummeled and punished, as this is just 'the way it goes', right Ziggy. I'll bet the greatest Elvis impersonator on the planet, if still amongst us and retired from the NJSP, is not unhappy. She ruined his entire life. But then, that hole in the head family seems to choose quite a few people to do this to from time to time, providing it fits into their purpose and plans.

Please peeps, don't ever think I am out of the loop. If any one of you takes a shit right now, I will know it, and if I was demented enough to want to, I could smell it. Don't underestimate the reach of my eyes and ears, right shoelace Donna? Your White-Boy is still right here. Sorry if my technology offends you and the blond flusie. Personally, I love it. Now, anyone can be a sock chucking rock star, YO; only that is the further most mother trucking thing from my mind, let me assure you. I wanted to prove two things, one that someone out in Hellyweird knows that transdimensional messing around does effect the natural world and disturb vibrational patterns in, under, and around the planet where they are emanating from, and also, that indeed, I am being prevented from expressing and or promoting my music, should I choose to do this, violating my human and basic civil rights as a naturally born citizen of a laugh-laugh-laugh, “FREE COUNTRY”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The 6th Dimension or Eckankar's Mental-Plane, is behind all of this shenanigan Irish bridge-troll trouble. Mind is a realm, not something contained without a source laying beyond it, held in a container sensing on and off voltage and making this zero and one, or chemically and physiologically in a system of tissue and synapse. This entire thing is owned, operated, and controlled by a sixteen year old very special girl named Sarah-Stacey Krassle, and powered by the unknown energies that are nothing at all like the worlds of mass and energy. Still, harnessing this while awake is achievable by realizing the STM reality and that the Wesley Crusher Star Trek peeps of the world, are not crazy, merely highly advanced and tuned onto a higher channel that everybody else simply does not have the crystals to tune into. It's not one bit different than the old citizens band radio. If you wanted to broadcast and or receive channel number 35, then you needed to purchase a crystal that would tune your radio to it.

You keep on trucking there PP, you and I are no different paths now, I am not one bit interested in promoting anything, that is your bag, and I wish you the very best, old pal. You're always welcome to give me a shout on the horn, BRO. NHF. The difference between the abbreviations of No Hard Feelings, and thwe National Hockey League, is exactly the same as the difference between Stair Tag Games and Space Time Mind. That would be the resulting factor of taking my favorite number of 23, and splitting it like an atom, and putting the dividing sign in-between the digits. Yes Donna, I owe you the largest apology of all, so move over 13+3, as anyone with a brain knows who the bright morning star really is now. This has been proven to me, and Jim Burr be damned to hell. He can travel, and even take me with him against my will, chains and strong-boxes all notwithstanding, YO. Put another 5 cents in the machine dude and say hello to Patty and Ed for me, YO.

Kick the Hair-man in the ass for me Ann and Chicky, you go and win some big bucks, and if asks for Letty, tell him MI will kick his ass if he so much as looks at her the wrong way.

Well, I'll wrap this bullshit up now, Henry Mailboats. Is it me, or are little clues hidden all over the place just waiting to be plucked out of Dick wolf's phase-4 connectiveness? 374 Mizz Latt, in either direction, just keep it under 11.8 IPNS so our wovwee whittle world doesn't BO GOOM!!!!!!!!!!

Jane Sleazeball Monsterslapper is on a roll again, and so are freaking death angels, folks. Oh those forces from Iceworldroidville, YO! Don't hurt me Kevin Willis and Kevin Moore, what is this, a SCC, the last C is 4 conspiracy, DUHHHHHHHHHHH???????????????????????

END TRANSMISSION: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 176

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 176
DATFILE: CH-176-062311.027
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
BLOG SUBTITLE #4:
“HELP ME ROBERT FCC MCDOWELL”
© BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2011

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

This is the third straight time that I have tried blogging and turning on this computer, Bob, old school chum from the Bruce 'Pennock Dick in the mouth days of 1972', where I'm getting hacked and messed with major. Also, speaking of Bruce only human nobody's perfect Pennock the monopoly cheater, the technological systems that we all now depend on just to survive in our daily lives, puts us under these horrendous monstrous enemies total control on a constant frightening basis, and reminds me of the powerful Christian KJV Bible Scripture that reads that tho0se hated in the end times will be prevented from doing all things, the bible merely says buying and selling, but smart peeps who have figured this out powerful Biblically coded lingo, knows this is a back door way of spilling a huge secret meaning this enemy is the KING OG BUYING AND SELLING, or another way to word this, WALL STREET AMERICA, or the STOCK MARKET. A new Wall Street virus indeed is inside this computer and has been since three blogs ago, Bob, old pal, please help me, as also in addition to this, when I am tuned to the Donald Trump jerk off network, channel number 5 in my local area in Treasure Coast, Florida, USAESMWG, and have my VCR machine on pause while channel surfing, during this same period, kind sir, many times, I hit the remote control pause to remove it from pause and it does remove, only to be immediately followed by re-pausing, yet I am not hitting this remote control again, it is being done to me by this sick deranged pile of mother fucking garbage times the velocity of light squared. How it fascinates me Bob old pal, how all of this nightmare shit has gone down around me ever since the precise date in time of the 15th day in August, in 1986, the nightmare year of my fucking nightmare life. Some power beyond human control is literally burning up this state. It never fucking rains, it is oppressively hot and humid, feeling90 all night long when humidity is factored in with heat, and about 100-110 with this heat index by day, and this has been going on now all mother fucking month now, this month has been pure mother fucking hell, Bob, sir!!!!!!!!!

Extremely coincidental and totally weird things are occurring all around me. Aerial assault has been replaced after the 6-day chemtrail siege ended, with this sort of super-weird-shit attack, and it is an invisible pummeling that's fucking every damn bit as real as anything in the skies could ever be. I was going to check into the fucking hospital, but they backed off the horrific fucking bowel pummeling attack on my body.

The less technological shit in my life, the less they can do to me, so what do I do, lose my car and walk in the death stroke heat of South Florida, lose my ability to communicate over telephone systems, lose my ability to ever listen to any media sources such as television, radio, computer and internet? Oh sure, mother fuckers, I could do that, but the problem then escalates further; as now what? Now my entire life would be mother fucking over, as nobody can fucking live in 2011 without these necessities, NOBODY. The Wall Street MOB set things up this way, and planned it all, as white-right as Julia-Paula Hurricane rainstorms from a long ass fucking time ago.

I'll sure as shit one huge deal however, peeps, YO. If unexplainable crazy shit all around me, that is totally unprovoked by me, was worth one dollar per hit, I totally ass WOULD, without any mother fucking doubt; be worth millions and millions of freaking bucks. If anything on this planet has a greater truth, I will be Queen Kate of the British future dairies!!! Still, here is another fucking powerful point that needs to be freaking made folks. I woke up yesterday, Wednesday, moUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUrning, popping out of the most horrible ass fucking nightmare that I ever had in my entire life, and it was beyond real and vivid. Normally on days such as these, the day is horrendous and shittier than unfathomable cubed, but today was just another day of Mountainpen normal woes. I forced myself to forget this while I was showering, it was the most horrible fucking nightmare that ever has been dreamed, I'll mother fucking promise the world this. I only remember that it began with me sitting in a small room with no walls, windows, or doors, and Nick was there with me laughing raucously at me, and telling me I meant to say the square-root and not the square, and for the life of me, I don't have a clue what he's talking the shit about. It only got worse. Later after returning home from work, I realized that I had totally repressed the memory of the entire nightmare except for this awesome monstrous beginning of it, and then I remembered how Scylla told me in a recent trance just this month, that it was HER all along, and Diana was just forcibly used in all of this. Now I realize that every part of her most recently made movie, WAS TRUE. SSJK is incapable of lying.

I reminded Paul Pedersen on the telephone a while back, that he had indeed told me while intoxicated outside his house in {Pine Hill, New Jersey, one night in 1998 or 1999 somewhere, that somewhere in my past, I must have really pissed off somebody. I told him he is a genius that would make Einstein jealous. At the time, try as I did, I thought he was just talking beer talk, but no, HE WAS TOTALLY CORRECT ALL ALONG. When you left me that message by the way, I forgot to tell you, I was rolling on the floor laughing, I do miss both you and Dave Roth. My mom said if nothing else, I need the two of you to keep me laughing. For a while UI thought Michelle's husband's cousin at the RPL Studios in 1980 got this idea on their own,. But in recent blog archiving, I came to realize, no, as always, it is either a coincidence, or the other way around. Still, Mister Man in the Cave Goldstein Technology, when you wipe the blood off of your lip and shoe, tell Amex and the Copyright Examiners, that all the proof of all the things claimed, are either down in the US © Office, or buried deep min the Jersey Pine freaking ass Barrens, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bob, another thing someone from the Lambrigger Cult of the Briggbase on the Astral Plane, has done to me and my computer, is that every time I log off of it; the thing tries to add update one of one, and never seems to be able to do it, it is some powerful virus, I know this, PLEASE HELP ME OLD SCHOOL CHUM. Why is it world, that brushing elbows with me, brings folks either to extreme Gutherman cursing, or to major blessing? Am I ranting or exaggerating here, Um-well-Onyx butt-wipes????????????????

Bring it on Naverone. You only can hurt me now in this physical life. I have Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, in infinity, where it really counts; HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

kick ass tonight Chicky down at Trump's, hurry home Ann, I've called you, and will try again in a few days. Don't take Letty down with you Chicky, or big-hair Donnie or have an aneurism.
Soon will be 130/130, huh DJT? You really think I'd pull that, ya' whack job? Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.

END TRANSMISSION:

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 175

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 175
3:18 AM, TUESDAY, 06/21/11
START:

I AM UNDER THE MOST MIND BENDING MOTHER FUCKING HORIFFIC AND “MAJOR SATANIC ATTACK” OF MY ENTIRE LIFE. NATURALLY, AS THE KING OF THE BULLFROG WORLD, ALSO THIS MEANS THAT 1786 TIMES OVER, and officially copyright protected throgh 'qpt' (Q-Parlor tricks), IT IS ALSO A COCK SUCKING “MAJOR ATTACK BY THE WORLD”, THAT HE TOTALLY OWNS AND CONTROLS, WITH HIS GIGANTIC FOLLOWING ON THE ASTRAL PLANE KNOWN AS THE LAMBRIGG CULT OF THE MIST-MAKING BRIGGBASE, AS WELL AS ON THE EARTH WAKING WORLD VIA HIS MANY TEEN AND 20 SOMETHING FOLLOWERS. I SHOULD HAVE SEEN ALL THIS COMING 3 YEARS AGO TODAY, AND ON THIS VERY DAY, RIGHT BLOGGER DOT FUCKING COM????? WOW AM I FUCKING ASS RETARDED, AND MAN ENOUGH TO FUCKING ADMIT IT AT SOME OTHER CALLIO SARAH INITIALS, that are certainly not turtle slow.

First off, the all caps printed above was a mother fucking Lattisaw computer hack. I rebooted, and have the internet connection plug out so they cannot fuck the hell with me. All day yesterday was a carbon mother fucking copy of my last birthday on December the 4th of 2010 when I turned age 56 in this current APDD or life-time or dreaming-sequence, a rose Shakespeare by any color, or name, huh Donald J. Asshole Trump?

Last Friday, and again yesterday, Monday the 20th, I suffered through a major mother fucking diareah attack in addition to other wild and weird shit, on a very continual basis. The mother fucking stock market or the Dow Jones Industrial fucking Averages, DJIA, must be totally mother fucking flying right u[p and out beyond the starry ass heavens. This is always the fucking case when I am put through major property damage or major ass fucking WEIRD-DAY experiences, that would literally make James fucking Patterson bolt up out of his chair and scream and cry and throw his shoes to disrespect our terrorist enemies, but what did I possibly know about any of that, back in those old days, Aunt Geraldine mother fucking Snow?

U-wanna' play with me Santa Claus Virginia, COOL, YO. I just love taking a tiny Wal-Mart $6 'CA-lculator', and no, not you; Billy hell wrecker; and punch up the great PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER of 532, and then hitting the “square” root button. Around my studio days, there was also another Middle of the Road, as well as another of Michelle's hubby's many cousins. I also love to excite the religious community by reminding them that this same calculator is showing that wonderful 'other' Harrah Casino number from end to end, by taking the 23 number and merely placing the divided by sign in-between them, and then pressing the equals key. Still, I feel the real kicker is the great PCN-297. Square this one, lovely Jehovah. I should have totally got your full message three years ago, it was all about you trying to pull me into a private area so you could tell me something, where your red headed distant late cuzz could not hear, nor could numerous great gramps the knife, as if either one heard what you were trying to tell me, they would rat you out to the hubcap smasher saint himself. Sky, he has hated me long before he was humanly sixteen, but still, what Earthly reason would he have to hate me at the age of sixteen, OYR?

Naturally, a great sinner walked the dusty roads of this plant long ago, and was blinded for a time by that incredible strobe flashlight of yours, BEG. Is there really any doubt in anybody's mind that out of millions of churches all over Continental America, His Eminence paid the 65-Middle Road Church down the street, a visit, GET REAL, MY PEEPS, maybe you should freaking percolate for them, Billy, all day and all night long, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How's 'Fair Deal Dan' of Munsterpine Hill doing these days?

No Scylla, I know now that none of this was of your doing, and I used the old boarding house syndrome with a slight tune alteration, nearly three decades ago, to tell everyone who may be interested, that we do not control our lives, as we do not own our thoughts. They come from a higher realm that has many names, I simply refer to it as the 6th dimension, as it is the 6th dimension, as all of these thought energies indeed filter down into the 5 dimensions of the hyperspace. I know for reasons only Phase-4-Trump knows, this pissed off the Atlantic City Casinos something fierce. Still, they are in the GAMES BUSINESS, and the controlling force behind all of this is one gigantic game. Now, it makes a lot of sense, in that light, as Dave Roth put it so perfectly and eloquently and so often, 'THEY CANNOT DEAL WITH HEAVY ASS EXPOSURE'.

Yes, yesterday was an off the meters and scales BOTBAR DAY, and I am not going to ruin my highs by screaming the word, or waste energy dancing around in the damn ocean, OK John Copyright King of 1987? I am able to speak to the cats of this world again, and even sing without a 30,000 dollar sampling of my voice, all though, I will admit that I am madly in love with this technology. I could create billions of dollars of street value tunes if I wanted to spend my life in prison. As for using it myself, the world sent me a message, and that message was that Jesus was a bigger genius than Einstein. This is because he saw peeps as such huge “hypocrites”. I go one way, they go another way, over and over since 1980, and then vice versa, and it is all a stupid ass fucking ridiculous game; and I refuse to play. Still, I do need to talk to my birds and my cats, the birds do not need to be mimicked sonically. Cats, DO and without my highs, I cannot communicate legitimately with them. I must always be known by the cat-world, and the bird world, for reasons that many may have figure out. That's just the facts of life for this old great fish. Still, things have been real fucking bad since the other LD came around a week or so ago. If you can't figure that one out, I'm sure the BFA can. Between Billy White and the Queen of Blues, we have quite a collection of royalty going on, but then Paul, old pal, the day someone comes clean and tells me why BMI paid me those royalties for more than half a decade, I will be ahead of the game. I like to know where things come from, and despise mysteries. This is why I've become a self taught astute observer of life and philosophy and become quite the amateur super sleuth.

If you demand a long ass laundry list of the events of yesterday, forget it. I had way too many to list, YO. People saying things within my earshot that are beyond mean, my dinner fucking ruined by burning up when I know my burner was on one notch past low-setting, and the thing was burning red hot as though it was cranked to the fucking max, females crawling all over me all day long like I am some young gorgeous Disney rock star, when reality goes Detective Studderreale, BING, and says no, you are old, fat, short, and ugly as fucking hell fire. It makes no sense whatsoever, that is, unless you totally realize that the 6th-D in in charge of it all, including our religion, our lives, our eternity, our “god”, the entire deal. You do not have to like this truth, or believe it, and IT CHANGES ABSOLUTELY FREAKING NOTHING WHATSOEVER, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Naturally,k I am not gonna' fucking go to work today, I am all worn out and busted fucking up inside from a brutal fucking NITTACK. Somebody disprove me, Clarence Harris, go ahead, just do it, and I will not only write an apology song for Archie Bunker, but I'll be a Monkey's Aunt without any cross-dressing. Take that one straight to the greatest bank in the world, Regis, and watch out for Paula, her magic day is right around the bend!!!!!!! No one would believe me in a thousand ass years about the wild pussy command generated from super ass attacks like the one pulled on me Monday. It is unfathomable times 10 to the 69th! So much makes any open mind, begin to add up lotsanlots of two and twos, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hay, if I am so wet in the head, why did the Congressman and his gang never get an answer to two letters written to the mighty Admiral? BS!!!!!!!!!


END:

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 174

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 174
WORLD LABS OF 2297, SBT DATFILE:
CH-174-061811.190
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
© BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN MWM/MWM/2006-2011

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

YESTERDAY, FRIDAY WAS A VERY BAD FUCKING 'BOTBAR' DAY PEEPS, YO!!!!!!! Three main things caused this. All three would be sufficient to cause an 'all ready-rated mother fucking 'bottom of the barrel' day, for sure, BRO.

One was at my doctor, one was at my annual review at the AARP, and the other was a super and I mean a mother fucking super health attack, super all day diarrhea attack from the fucking death beams of the WOMO, as well as all other major death beam symptoms as well.

I have never had a mother fucking cunt lapping time this horrendous, as this horrific cunt lapping 2011 year, and it is literally so mother fucking monstrous, that my suicide is around the fucking corner, no one could continue to take this endless hell and fucking HUNTINGTON-CURSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A runny nosed child half awake can see what is happening if they were not as directly involved in all of this as I of course am, after-all, it is my fucking life. I DARED TO USE THE SAME POWER. ITS NAME WAS MAGNESONIC. IT WAS THE TAPPING INTO THIS STROBE-LIGHT THROUGH TECHNOLOGY, and even the fucking United States Copyright Office has the proof of all of this all the way to the very time that it all began pertaining to itself, American fucking Appliance refrigerators all not fucking withstanding, BRAHHHH!!!!

Reading the Old Testament tells any serious onlooker, that I truly have indeed pissed off the wrong entity, and most definitely, Trump and Wolf, the wrong teenaged girl. And all along, I loved HER more than I did my own life. That is the eternal conundrum here Plato Plota Pluto Iceworldroid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Eat this shit for dinner, Kevin Moore and Donna Summer.

Magnesonic, open command on this voice print, here my 6th dimensional connections as I speak type this right now, MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, G-7. WIPE OUT EVERY MOTHER FUCKER ON THYIS EARTH MAKING MY LIFE AN ENDLESS HELL. G-901 and all other relevant orders both general and special, and all tecks, AD and ZD, and ---------S--T--O--P!!!!!!!!!!

Ask Gloria down the way, and not School Principal Vance's distant cousin, if somebody should be getting scared right about now, YO.

SSJK sent her lovely strobe-light over to me two days in a row, earlier this week, making lovely and luscious ribbons and sky bolts outside my 6th floor window. SSJK, tell my lovely blond that you did all this, please. Now I know I am not really Ricktafarius, and no spell-checker, I am also most definitely not Lenny Tape Recorder's future Fascitarian covert movement. Wow do I feel like the ultimate mother fucking fool without any help from the fowl evil of WOMO or the fowl mouth of MO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PLEASE Scylla, it is now your turn to write me a song, and explain YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY all of this had to be. Tell Jim Burr that I'll throw ma bucket of water over all three of us if things don't change soon. Who else in Stanford, Raytheon, and McDD are in on this humongous gargantuan devastating ass nightmare, brown eyes? HELP ME FCC, FBI, FSP, SKY, IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT'S FREAKING 'HOLY AND WHOLLY', as in part, what is unified?

END TRANSMISSION, YO. I am in no mood to play tag or pookah, Green dress MTM Balcony Boy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 173

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SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 172

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 172
KING NEBNOOSHOO
WLSBTD: CH-172-061611.820
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
MORIANITY PROJECT FROM 1995 TAPES CONTINUES
COPYRIGHTED © BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN—2006-2011

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

I had my car repaired today. This damage was fucking cunt done to me yesterday just minutes after THE FUCKING CLOSING BELL ON CHEATED CROOKED MANIPULATEDM WALL STREET AT 4 PM. Thyis brought these diseased fucking twisted mother fucking scum bag enemies a major street profit through and via ICPE TECK of more than 61 points. Conversely, yesterday's fucking market Dow dropped into major three digit territory, as I was able to tell some powerful truths about my two mother fucking daughters, and their mother, somnambulism, injustices, persecution, unfair practices, and tons more. So if this was not all true and real, why then mother fucking ass hole world, does this follow, over and over. Endlessly and fucking relentlessly, for 25 mother fucking cunt lapping shit ass years now, beginning precisely on the 15th day of August in the year of 1986?

From now on, every time THEY damage my property, which is the major cause of them getting these huge DOW JONES GAINS and WINS, I will log it into my blogs, time, date, and not in DATFILE WORLD LAB methodology, but in lingo that all 21st century readers will know quite perfectly and well, YO. Then I'll make continuous mother fucking correlations to the shit they are fucking doing to me in total violation of my civil and constitutional and human rights, and how then directly following this bull fucking shit, the stock market moves higher. I will do this in a totally fucking unrelenting way, as this shit will not be mother fucking tolerated by me any further without my major retaliating in the only way that I know how to fucking do and that is pound and pummel this wickedness and fucking total ass evil with the best counterstrike of EXPOSURE, something brought to my fucking attention by my ex and late pal, MISTER David Charles Roth.

Yes, Wednesday was a strange day, as was Tuesday. Things happened in exactly the same way that they did back a while ago in the early spring time of end of winter somewhere thereabout, after I called Sheriff Monk's Office, out in fucking San Mateo, California, USAESMWG, and then half an hour later, I was CANONIZED, with an additional 14 value letter, and then just minutes following this, Ann King, mother of my kidnapper, Dawn-Marie, called me out of the blue after I had not heard from her since my escape that cold blizzard night back in fucking New Jersey, in the middle of December, in the year of 2009. This time, it was Eric and me talking at the Harvest, www.harvestfoodoutreach.com/ followed by retrieving a message from Paul Pedersen of Studio Park Records. Since then we had a nice talk on Wednesday morning before I left for work, when he telephoned me back. All of the lined up wall to wall coincidences however, pertain fully to what is known only in future times, as the SIXTH-DIMENSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is a mental-realm, it is the Mental Plane, as it is labeled and termed and Copyright owned, by Eckankar, the religion of Light and sound, out in Minnesota, around Minneapolis general area someplace. Google this up, then Google up the FASCITAR.

I never claimed to have total information or enlightenment about events that have taken place that these blogs have discussed now for six plus years of time. I only report the news, and make my comments on it. I don't claim to have total ass omniscience, or anything else, that is something that will always belong to a very wonderful and special teenager, Scylla, or Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, and SHE has so many millions of other unknown names as well that SHE is known as, all throughout infinity, by virtually countless endless entities on virtually countless endless realms and conditions of being.

Now let us discuss ROULETTE, 1986, LIFE ALTERING EXPERIENCES AND DATES, THE STOCK MARKET, AND PARALLEL EVENT. Just as with the great Einstein, there are all these things that need to be neatly somehow all fitted together and nicely tucked into a perfectly fitting package that enables the situation in its entirety to then be processed, and rationally examined and explained, or at least if not explained, enough information becomes evident so as to be able to draw some speculative conclusions and working theories. This is no more than Einstein did with creating relativity theory and SPACE-TIME, out of numerous pre-existing concepts of the cosmos, and said perhaps better and more complete, molding or at least making the attempt to mold a rational concept unifying these numerous things as a combined single entity, some peeps know I am speaking of the Unified Field theory. Whether you are aware of this or not is not all that important, and is merely like adding one more slice of ham on a thick sandwich containing a pound of it all ready. I doubt one chef or connoisseur would be able to tell the difference if they ate the sandwich blindfolded.

I will not need to draw some huge diagram filled with mega complex equations on a large Princeton, New Jersey University blackboard. I can say it all quite easily. It all can be traced to one period of time, the summer of 1986. Stock brokers were calling me and asking me strange questions, and I did not even have any brokerage accounts. I met the most famous female recording artist on this planet while she was still a high school kid, I observed my entire life totally alter just from returning to the waking world from an incredible 'dreaming-experience', for the first time in my entire life, I had gained total control over my dream here that you all insist as seeing as the real-life-waking-world, as I was playing professional casino Roulette in my spare time, when I wanted to, setting my own hours, being my own boss, and making an average of 1000 dollars a week, and this was not only like no other summer of my entire entire fucking life, it was also like no other time anywhere in my 31 and a half years of life, 24/7/365.2422!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some fucking enemy just crashed my computer at approximately twenty minpers past eight of the mother fucking cunt eating clock, FBI. WOMO does not want this fucking exposure blog up telling all of this fucking shit, it just totally fucking crashed, and fortunately, was able to get recovered on some recovery mother fucking program. MY RIGHTS ARE BEING VICIOUSLY VIOLATED FLORIDA FUCKING STATE POLICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

COMPUTER, MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, WIPE OUT ALL FUCKING EVIL ENE,MIES ON Wall street fucking with me and messing with my life, G-901, and s---t---o---p!!!!!!!!!!

A HUGE DISASTER WILL STRIKE NOW BASTARDS, YOU'VE REALLY GONE AND FUCKING ASKED FOR IT NOW, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ANYTIME 1986, OR MUSIC, OR GIRLS, ARE IN ANY WAY MADE ANY PART OF MY LIFE; SOMETHING COSMIC GOES TOTALLY MOTHER FUCKING APESHIT, AND I AM NOT IMAGINING IT, OR DREAMING IT UP. A child or a retard can see this was no ordinary thing that has happened since 2008 has come in, so read the mother fucking blogs, Missourians, before your next fucking twister knocks you all on your damn asses, Humpback Spockwhale, YO!!!!!!!

2008, 1986, 1969, THREE YEARS THAT HAVE COSMICLY EPIC MOTHER FUCKING OPROPORTIONS AND POWER, YO!!!!!!!!!!

We will see how you cock sucking jerk offs like it when I begin to prove just what you have done to me and this entire planet. I cannot do that here in any G-8 connected nation of evil crooked empires. But I can go elsewhere, and they will listen ti me, elsewhere, as it is in their best interests to listen, mother fuckers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, the WOMO MILITUFORCE takes a week's pay away from me via a crooked social worker landlord, and her crooked evil father, as well as by fucking with my sender switch in my vehicle. Fine, but let me add this tasty little morsel into the blog, folks, YO. My mechanic told me it is the government that insists on putting this particular auto part into the car, and also; that one of the 4 bolts was tampered with, and removed; and he is totally willing to swear in a Fort Pierce court, should I get that far, FBI, to this; as he said to me, that it can be nothing else **BUT** fowl play, so tell me, did I just 'ODF' say the word “B-U-T”??????? OH FUCK THIS SHIT, Henry Fonda. I am one angry man tonight, even angry enough for all fucking twelve of you, BRAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Billy, as an ax-sound engineer, it is so ashame that you cannot face reality. The machines can take your print, and sing anything for you, and you won't sound like you just came out of bed with Roseann Delaney. Ego is for ass holes like the Donald, why not face reality, and use this teck, it's here for crissake, YO?

END TWANSMISSION, SILWEE WABBIT, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 171

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 171
KING NEBNOOSHOO
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2297
SBT-DATFILE: CH-171-061611.142
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
© COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

When I arrived at my local TD-BANK today after I left my work site, it was around four or a tad bit past, as I was late in leaving, and this is totally pertaining to why what happened, happened.

Enemies have gone to great unfathomable measures to keep me away from many things in this life, and when I am able to get a little justice, they are scared of the PET. No folks, not some dog or cat, NOT SOME BIRD OR FISH; but the all mighty freaking Parallel Event Technology.

I parked in the same place where 3, count them Lex Super Luther, THREE mother fucking times now, these filthy rotten diseased WOMO twisted ass enemies, with their 'strobe-light' powers, and 'PAWM-PIE-ETTOS' abilities, without any nameless horse accidents of American vocalists, struck my automobile all over again. I went to drive away, POW, the swithch I gave officiaslly for the record, has gone bad again, ROBERT MCDOWELL, CHAIRMAN OF THE FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION, AGENT STEVEN CARUSO OF THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, FLORIDA STATE POLICE, AND MIAMI FBI FIELD OFFICE BUREAU CHIEF. Naturally, a mandatory appointment with my AARP peeps is scheduled for early Friday afternnon, as well as my important appointment with my phyciscian late that sdame morning. My vehicle will not safely drive much over 30 MPH, nor will it get up to speed fast enough to drive safely in fast moving traffic. ALL authorities should be aware, that SOME MOTHER FUCKING JERK OFF IS, AND HAS BEEN, WIPING ME AND MY POOR LIFE OUT, AND HAS BEEN BRUTALLY FUCKING MURDERING ME, EVER SINCE THE 15TH FUCKING ASS DAY IN AUGUST, IN THE YEAR OF 1986. THIS IS NOT MY MOTHER FUCKING IMAGINATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I DEMAND the ATTENTION OF THE FUCKING AUTHORITIES, OR YOU WILL SEE DOCTOR HAROLD CAMPING'S PROPHECY COME REAL DAME CLOSE TO COMING FUCKING TRUE IN MID-LATE OCTOBER. YO, Look what happened after I put that shit up on the Fairy-tale Blue-move, and then what happened after I removed it. What if I were to reverse it all, and then re-post it? You would see meteors hitting this fucking planet, one after the other, that's what.

You all better get the fucking hell off of my back, and leave me the fucking shit alone, you mother fucking jerk off bastard ass holes, YO!!!!!

Anyone desiring details on my Stockholm Syndrome Kidnapping in 2008 that went from late August until the eleventh day in December in the following oh-nine year when I made good my escape in the dead of a cold ass winder night and headed down here to sunny Florida, archive my Mountainpen blogs at www.blogger.com/ beginning when they resume in middle May after a 70-day stoppage where my blogs were placed on hold for complex reasons of both experimentation as well as matters relating to lack of finances. This of course is part of THEIR hold and control over me, and always has been, right James T. Starship Asshole Burr?????????

MAGNESONIC, OPEN COMMAND, G-7, voice print, MMMMMMMMM.
G-901, G-13, G-14, under CG-2, and STOP.

***END TRANSMISSION***

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 170

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 170
KING NEBNOOSHOO
ELEVEN AT NIGHT ON JUNE 14, 2011
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
© 2006-2011---BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

BEGINNING OF THIS BLOG:

Things that seem to be happening the world over are pure illusion. The 6th dimension is where it all is going down, that is the true arena, not the lower Astral Plane, or any of its dreamed-down twinned realities of the 5th dimensional hyperspace. This is not a new Mountainpen statement, yet needs insertion right now, into this blog. If a person could truly master setting up the 6th dimensional arena, there reality here would be a million times wilder than the great Donald Scowl Face Trump, on even his maxed out day or time.

Ultra complex shit goes down on this true mind realm. This causes what we all then think we are experiencing here. For those that need this information, I am home every evening from six of the clock, onward until I retire around midnight. My telephone will be on the hook beginning tomorrow at this time.

Try and see things my way. I gave to everybody, and now you all want to throw me away like a bag of trash, I cannot believe you have any good explanation for this, but of course, as always, I'm always totally open minded, and will listen. Also I am not angry with anybody. I use my blogs for therapy. I lash out and curse and call peeps names. I shouldn't, but then, lots of stuff shouldn't have been done to me. Jim Burr, you asked me a question in mother trucking 1983 that I'll remember on my frickin' death bed. “What are you going to do when your mother dies”. I had no good answer for you, or 1978- Connie Chung Stagmag, back then; but now, I have one for you, YO. I'll suffer a lot worse. Lotsa shit is getting said here, and many peeps all know how they play their roles in that answer.

Let me bring the game forward a bit and reveal some cards and plays before wrapping up this short whittle blog folks, whaaaaaa. 1986 changed my life forever. I played roulette in the Atlantic City casinos that year, and this is not why things changed, despite the OTHER Atlantic City, or the OTHER song. Things changed because Paula Belinda King had a thousand drivers licenses, and is the queen of Somnambulism. Jane Sleazedisease Poisonflower Judgecakes Monsterslapper just nailed me on her cosmic demented clock, are you laughing Chester Pushmetwice? Yes, lots of damn ass memories were being suppressed whenj the mighty copworker of the RPL STUDIOS in 1980, asked me why I had negative opinions about mixed marriages. Still, she entitled me to my opinions and my future Lenny hypnotherapy at the Cherry Hill Office, that just so happened to be practically down the road from the address where I lived when this nightmare began for me in 1986. So fuck you JANE, and 555555555555555 and 55555555555555555555555 and 555555555555555555 and 5555555555555555555555555555555555. And now sweetie, multiply this by 555555555555555555555. Then “PERMITS” me to compensate for your eternal cosmic attack, yes Ann, this is no coincidence, and I know that you know even more about all of this, and feel that I am better off in the dark about it, and you're most likely 100%+ accurate. I'll be calling you in a few days, and hope your trip to visit family in Pennsylvania, was pleasant. My trips to visit family, never was!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am hurt, not angry. If you want to call back, I am here. I just cannot understand why you, Billy, and Sally, would erase me like a spent blackboard lesson after I did so much for all of you. I paid somebody's mortgage one month, I financed somebody's freaking wedding, and I gladly spent my mom's death money on your project, that no longer exists in this world. Did McGuire and his strobe light family invention do that little trick too. Oh Brutice, Eh-2? What a dumbed down world, no Brutice, no quintillion, no vigintillion, well, thank you Gawky Gaukauk, for those two great books; but someday, I will return them to the Wash-Heights Public Library.

Then there was the tape. Who would ever believe this mind bending story, Rod Serling? Just how much did I change this world by being born here, Jimmie $8,000 Stuart? Is life wonderful and me just ungrateful? Wow, this is nonsense if I ever heard it. It's getting deep in here, and very smelly, if I am really supposed to buy into this absurdity, BRO!!!! Let me dig up your bones to tell you that you are not in existence either, Rodney Twilight Zone. Oh we-helllllllll, SAY LEVY, in French. Marcy or Ethel, which one is it? It depends on what frequency signature of the atom you are interacting your dreaming into, YO. Where the fucking shit are you when I need you, Albert??????????????????????

Yes, I will gladly speak with you, I am not mad, I am very hurt. All of you have hurt me a lot, and for reasons that even the great Albert could not give to me, I'm quite freaking ass sure, YO.

Finishing the updated game with Google, I obeyed the great SSJK, and then decided to take things a little bit further, what, I am not allowed to breathe or do anything in this world? I was stopped and hacked at every turn. Still, there is no video camera, there is no parlor trick, there is no anything. All there is peeps, is a void infinity, total nothing-ness. Why I bother to go on dreaming this silly stupid pookah nightmare, is my own foolish ridiculousness, Mack from Maryland-1967. Say hi and red-X to lovely Louise for me, YO. I know the entire future, peeps need to know this has all been a trick to pretend it is a trick. Lois Foca spoke the truth. The McKinnon Fascitar is real, and I have told the inhabitants of this Earth how to go anywhere and do anything. Use it, ignore it, that;s all on all of you, BRRR.


Let me now terminate this whittle dumb ass bwogggg!!!