SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0286
DATFILE: 120911.629
WORLD LABS SEND BACK TEXT VIA STM
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
COPYRIGHT © BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
This was a very bad BOTBAR fucking day for me. I had to pull a make up 90 minutes up at the Harvest where I am employed through the AARP. Back a few days ago, I was up at their regional office in Port Saint Lucie, Florida for my bi-annual employee evaluation, and mild spanking. I admit that I do not do all the things required of me, it is pretty hard to be me and deal with a truck load of WOMO enemies, and then do my job at www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ and then on top of that, do job searches, and many other things such as attend Workforce solutions classes, and the list goes on and on. Let me tell you about my mother fucking horrendous day, and then I will totally blow your minds with other shit, peeps, I will guarantee all of you that, along with Mister Tahren Gandhi and George Foreman.
I had saved from food that I wanted to purchase, and forgot to do so after clocking out on Wednesday afternoon, and yesterday was my Sheriff day to report major stuff and I did get tot he bottom of quite a lot, but need to keep my big fat fucking mouth shut about all of this for the time being; so I hid what I wanted to buy in a spot I thought for sure would keep it safe, and none of the items were perishables. I got there today and learned it all went back on the shelves and was lost. I had some really good fucking shit that I wanted, and I lost it. New bosses there at the place, are making lots of shit total hell. On top of that, some powerful Hydroglacia force, popped up behind me while I was in an isolated spot for a second, and literally ripped my watchband apart, leaving it to fall onto the hard floor, and bust. I am a tiny bit faster than other peeps, and have been ever since my encounter with the great 'Colaman' at Haddonwood, in 1995, at the indoor swimming pool. This is why I actually was able to see a strange entity that in-between an eighth of a second or so, appeared next to me, performed this wicked dastardly mother fucking deed, and vanished away, just like out of the wildest shit on television you'd ever see folks. Three acts of property damage from the past week now expand to a total of fucking FOUR of them. Fucking with my television and causing no picture from several days back, the second thing that happened when I told you on a prior blog that two utility attacks struck me together during that horrific day of unfathomable fucking death siege; shorting out my home stereo equalizer system, breaking a switch on my home stereo mixer board, and now #4= MY WATCHBAND, and causing me a broken fucking watch. There is one person alive who knows how evil Robert McGuire is, and is a distant complex cousin, based on series of in-law and blood lineage systems over several generations. This person however is not quite the way she was some time back when reality was her number one concern, even over a billion dollars. I do know this much, maybe not much else, but I do know this much. Now, well; everything changes if given enough time. Misery as they say loves company, but I merely wanted to get to the bottom of why this family is doing so much horrible stuff to me, and I feel that my great daughter knows, but is unwilling to say. Well, leading horses to water troughs and buckets and interactions is one thing, maybe the symbolization in that oh-8 dreaming-interaction, was I was willing to learn the truth and accept the truths that I would come to learn over coming years, and did so by pouring the water bucket all over myself, and then later on, whatever secret details were revealed to me by my wonderful special child all grown up, perhaps is not all remembered, and a lot is gapped out upon returning to this waking world “dream” again, that following morning. If I had a cousin that could pull of the trick that he did on Tennessee Avenue in October of 2006, I know I'd want to know a lot more, all else be damned. On top of that, add up the shared problem of the trails and how they damaged us, and on and on, and I cannot see how anything, even fifty billion dollars, would not pale in comparison. Money will all turn to dogshit, but not knowing what and how we fit into these things, this may very well last forever for us, Brown-Eyes, but you know what's best, after-all, and I am not being cute or smart here, “U-RULE THE EMPIRE”, and said so from high places, PUBLICALLY, on the same day precisely 12 years after I wrote my song called, “SARAH”. So tell me this, where is my, as Donna would put it so well, after she too, caused me her share of anguish and grief; “messed up mind” seeing any or all of these things wrong. Also, what is here with this that I don't know anything about. Maybe I do not know, as you proclaim on VQI, anything about you after all infinity, great lovely Jehovah Goddess, but this poor old CARPENTER would really LOVE to know, what I'm missing here, and just what it is that I've got so wrong? I did not imagine 30 Plaza Place and that nobody can get a photograph of this place without extremely outlandish and bizarre things happening to them, or the great Pittsburgh Hotel on 10-SC Avenue as well, so it would freaking appear, or maybe, NOT APPEAR, or maybe better still, not be remembered, erased, from mind and cameras as well, via powerful ASTRAL PLANE TOOLS known as the PAWM-PIE.
The scriptures that you influenced to be written down and saved by 'magic' through thousands of years, SSJK; talk about the quick and the dead. If a person or any living entity, cannot maintain the necessary speed on a cellular level, to keep up with the needed ratio of the speed of time and its reflection; it no longer is interacting in that realm and time dimension. It is 'dead'. I'm not implying that our mind works at the speed of light, but I am saying that time runs along in a direction that is relative to the polarity of the electron and proton that makes up its individual universe system, and is the mirrored image of all things reflected back at all points from any given point in space-time. Thus, if we took a television st to a planet, providing one could be found and reached; that was 41 light years away from our Earth, and the signal broadcast was strong enough when it was originally sent out and aired, we could all watch the television that would be playing live on the air back in the original days if tuning say to the American Broadcasting company Network, we could watch all over again, the Leviathan plot unfolding with Paul Stoddard, Barnabas Collins, Jebez Hawks, and Nickolas Blair, on the show, “Dark Shadows”, and watch Poor old Paul Stoddard be given his second PAYMENT DUE DATE, the first one was my 15th birthday on 12/4/69, and then the next one was on 1/15/70. Back then, the Monday Holiday system had not fully kicked in, so this was always “King Day”, as now despite this date being his real birthday, the holiday is celebrated on the nearest Monday in January. Still, the freaking odds of the two PAYMENT DUE DATES, MY BIRTHDAY AND MARTIN KING DAY, YO, I know I do not buy into the coincidence, you all can do whatever you like, but shall we now return to the topic at hand folks. First, in completing the previous point, my day of birth brought me in my present human form into this so-called life here, and then it was all destined to lead up to meeting Christopher Bennett, son of Dick wolf's team's Correction Officer, Sir Warlock Worley, and his dad, you guessed it was indeed a CO; and then from there, he put me onto blogging my nightmare story on the internet, and this led me to the Hammonton Library, where I was all pre-panned to meet computer guru ed Lynch, the downstairs neighbor of the KINGS, Dawn-Marie and Ann, and Dawnie's hubbie, Sir Chicky, from the great Mayan Guatemala. Now I am blogging this in a time, just days away from a powerful MAYAN CALENDAY year, the great 2012. Still laughing, SIR LEE, abnd MAHM MICHELE and fam??????????????????????????????? The topic of LIGHT and TIME, is simple. This is why this other hypothetical planet, relax mom; that in this example cited in my illustration here on this blog; that is 41 light years away in distance, also means that if you turn on the TV and receive EARTH, you would be watching the TV of 41 years ago, hi there Carolyn, are my blogs your daddy's second most prized possession, as you are certainly his first, and not hypothetically, MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT, gimme' a freaking bwake, ELMER FWUUUUUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now taking this a little further still, we do operate on a level of awareness and consciousness that indeed is in a ratio, no SORIAN HACKER, not RATION, I caught that hack Lattisaw and erased off the “N”, AHA-AHA-AHA, YO; aniwho, this ratio is the speed that divides 186,282 SMPS by, (Statute Miles Per Second), and can be thought of as the speed that your brain and neurological system, processes your senses, using the same constant of the second. Basically, just a little quicker than one sixth of one second, is the processing speed of a human being's awareness. These periods of time can be more easily grasped by thinking of them as INSTANTS, one instant carrying over into the next instant. Using this second-constant rating system, a formula indeed can be rationally figured and deduced quite accurately and scientifically, that permits us to know the ratio of our life to the speed of time. As we age, although it is virtually infinitesimal, we slow down a little bit, and time runs away from us a little faster. In the final second of our consciousness, be it before we fall off into a living sleep, or into the non-living state of death that is based on life in a time dimension; this final 6th second turns into an infinitely increasing expansion of millionths and quadrillionths of a second and so forth forever; and just as a nuclear half life never has a total ZR breakdown (Zero-Rad), where no radio activity at all is present; an enlightened soul starts to realize that these mathematical formulas indeed show that we never really live in a time reality to start with, but are dreaming a space-time-mind dimension, and falling into this dream, only to eventually, slow down again, and wake up out of it. Time runs away too fast, we slow down, and to the time world and its inhabitants, we grow still, and cold, and DEAD. However, it is time that was never really there, and was an illusion and parlor trick from the second we gained enough speed off of the Astral Plane, to fall asleep into this STM dimensionality. Oh yes sir folks, somebody had to know these details in order to write words such as “The quick, and the dead”. These same WHATEVERS had to know that Earth was a sphere in an orbit in an expanded area out beyond it in six opposite end directions that all curve involutedly back again as is the nature of moving hyper-spheres with all of their unlimited subatomic-existing parallel universes. This is all written in scrolls thousands of years ago, and has been most recently best translated into the KJV HOLY BIBLE, so who in not only 1546 but 1-3 K years before Christ was here, could have known all these things? Well, the same WHATEVERS who broke my watch today, AND HAS CAUSED ME HELL AND CURSES AND UNIMAGINABLE GRIEF AND TEARS for 57+ years of my human life now, as MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN.
Do I personally believe in coincidence at all, ever? NO I DO NOT. All stuff that happens is part of the same fabric that has made up my wild and beyond off the wall weird life. You have the same things that I do too folks, the difference is that another Paula King in your life, of a sort; has mesmerized abnd hypnotized you into totally not observing or seeing any of it. You have been successfully programmed my peeps, not to see, not to know, but to live in blind darkness, and who knows, divine bliss as well, after-all, it is me and not you, that Alice Gallagher of Chicago, and other victims also, suffer from this unspeakable HUNTINGTON CURSE. This is the funniest laugh of all, that my kid was born up there by the bay, did all the stuff she did over the past half decade, and now is living in total denial. Still, this is why there will be 2 MC's in her life in two weeks, and none here at 601 Avenue B in FTPEFLUSAESMWG. As she says, “SHE RULES”. Well, I do not argue with that, even stupidity on my level has its limitations, thank the freaking gods, YO.
Much much much much more will be said later on as we enter the Christmas Hellidays. I will say a lot of things about property damager McGuire, the non photographic areas of Atlantic City, and mighty GOOGLE, as one of them is more than enough for me to deal with, am I correct here Doctor Diva Margret, Apollo-Lucifer (On Earth), and twin sister DIANA. Diana Moon, Diana Son, and Dick Wolf. Add in a few more characters, and wow, what a motley crew and collection of 16's we have, yar maitees. Hay, this is the Treasure Coast of Florida, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I BEG PARDON, daddy, so let me include you here, after all, it is your booty down there, so FUCK THIS SHIT, you 12 ANGRY ME OF THE JURY, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!
End transmission:
Friday, December 9, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
KING NEBNOOSHOO SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0284
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0284
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2297
DATFILE: 120811.565
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO/
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM, SOSO-WEIN-SSDD”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN----(C) 2006-2011
ALL STATEMENTS MADE HEREIN ARE SELF SWORN
VOLUINTRARY OATHS, INDER FULL WEIGHT AND
PENALTIES FOR CHARGES OF PURJERY, SLANDER, AND LIBEL.
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
For 57 mother fucking years, the WOMO scum trash bottom feeders times ten tot he power of a quadrillion, have done nothing other than sit around 24/7/365.2422, year in and year old, trying to figure out ways of making my life a continuous and constant living fucking nightmare hell disaster cubed, and they have been amazingly and unfathomably successful at their career.
Late last night around eleven or just after this, PM-EST, the attack began slowly, and is monstrously building, as I speak and type. It was both my trash-ass nabes that were active last night after several days of relative peace and quiet. Then today at just past Jane Bitch Clock-Sleaze-Disease, and shy of q quarter passt one, about twenty minutes ago, a fire alarm knocked me suddenly right out of my shoes, and exactly when I was telling Diana that I will never understand or really know the great SARAH-STACEY-JEHOVAH-KRASSLE. As I then went onto tell he over the telephone, the details of even how the great SSJK told me on Viqueens Island or 'VI', that indeed, I do not know anything about HER, and only think that I do, BOOM, the fire alarm attack went blaring off at me, breaking my trance. This was a definite attack, as it was off within five minutes, and there were no firemen or firetrucks here on the premises to disarm it, so it had to be generated by the HA or somebody who is all part of the conspiracy of driving me mad and never “GIVING ME A MOMENTS' OEACE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, AGENT CONDOR AND AGENT FALCON, OF WPIX CHANNEL ELEVEN (11), NEW YORK CITY TELEVISION STATION, QUOTED DIRECTLY FROM THEIR 1988 DOCUMENTARY CALLED, UFO-THE COVER-UP”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The big news, is that I have huge proof that I am taking over to the sheriff of my county, that someone is making my life hell, so the fur is about to fucking fly. It is electronic evidence and proof that my rights under the UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION are being not only viciously violated and my civil rights trampled upon, but shows the who-what-when-why details of many things, so soon, very soon my fucking friends, lots of heads will roll, and this EVIL EMPIRE will be sorry. I have proof that I am under illegal surveillance, as well as electronic attacks that destroy all of my property, injure my physical health, and even block any radio stations from being received, and here I am up here on the 6th fl;oor, high above all the other peeps around me who tell me that they can receive and enjoy the Vero Beach Christmas Station, while my right to enjoy this music and festive season is being eviscerated.
No great Sarah-Stacey, I do not indeed, because you have played your endless silly teenaged games with me, so if you are looking for an argument from THAT-BOY, about what you said to me on VI, forget it SWEET-TEA, as we are in total agreement. I know about as much about you and what you are up to with me, as I know the insides of the arteries of Pope Benny-16!!!!
END TRANNY, SWEET LOVELY BUTT-WIPING GRANNY, WHAAAAAAAAAA!
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMagnesoniCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC:
IF YOU DO NOT SCAN, ATTACK, AND DESTROY MY HORRENDOUS ENEMIES, THIS PLANET WILL BLOW UP INTO TINY PEBBLES!
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2297
DATFILE: 120811.565
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO/
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM, SOSO-WEIN-SSDD”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN----(C) 2006-2011
ALL STATEMENTS MADE HEREIN ARE SELF SWORN
VOLUINTRARY OATHS, INDER FULL WEIGHT AND
PENALTIES FOR CHARGES OF PURJERY, SLANDER, AND LIBEL.
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
For 57 mother fucking years, the WOMO scum trash bottom feeders times ten tot he power of a quadrillion, have done nothing other than sit around 24/7/365.2422, year in and year old, trying to figure out ways of making my life a continuous and constant living fucking nightmare hell disaster cubed, and they have been amazingly and unfathomably successful at their career.
Late last night around eleven or just after this, PM-EST, the attack began slowly, and is monstrously building, as I speak and type. It was both my trash-ass nabes that were active last night after several days of relative peace and quiet. Then today at just past Jane Bitch Clock-Sleaze-Disease, and shy of q quarter passt one, about twenty minutes ago, a fire alarm knocked me suddenly right out of my shoes, and exactly when I was telling Diana that I will never understand or really know the great SARAH-STACEY-JEHOVAH-KRASSLE. As I then went onto tell he over the telephone, the details of even how the great SSJK told me on Viqueens Island or 'VI', that indeed, I do not know anything about HER, and only think that I do, BOOM, the fire alarm attack went blaring off at me, breaking my trance. This was a definite attack, as it was off within five minutes, and there were no firemen or firetrucks here on the premises to disarm it, so it had to be generated by the HA or somebody who is all part of the conspiracy of driving me mad and never “GIVING ME A MOMENTS' OEACE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, AGENT CONDOR AND AGENT FALCON, OF WPIX CHANNEL ELEVEN (11), NEW YORK CITY TELEVISION STATION, QUOTED DIRECTLY FROM THEIR 1988 DOCUMENTARY CALLED, UFO-THE COVER-UP”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The big news, is that I have huge proof that I am taking over to the sheriff of my county, that someone is making my life hell, so the fur is about to fucking fly. It is electronic evidence and proof that my rights under the UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION are being not only viciously violated and my civil rights trampled upon, but shows the who-what-when-why details of many things, so soon, very soon my fucking friends, lots of heads will roll, and this EVIL EMPIRE will be sorry. I have proof that I am under illegal surveillance, as well as electronic attacks that destroy all of my property, injure my physical health, and even block any radio stations from being received, and here I am up here on the 6th fl;oor, high above all the other peeps around me who tell me that they can receive and enjoy the Vero Beach Christmas Station, while my right to enjoy this music and festive season is being eviscerated.
No great Sarah-Stacey, I do not indeed, because you have played your endless silly teenaged games with me, so if you are looking for an argument from THAT-BOY, about what you said to me on VI, forget it SWEET-TEA, as we are in total agreement. I know about as much about you and what you are up to with me, as I know the insides of the arteries of Pope Benny-16!!!!
END TRANNY, SWEET LOVELY BUTT-WIPING GRANNY, WHAAAAAAAAAA!
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMagnesoniCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC:
IF YOU DO NOT SCAN, ATTACK, AND DESTROY MY HORRENDOUS ENEMIES, THIS PLANET WILL BLOW UP INTO TINY PEBBLES!
Monday, December 5, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0283
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0283
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“A SIMPLER THAN EINSTEIN FORMULA, EW=ALOE”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN © 2006-2011
WORLD LABORATORIES DATE AND TIME FILE:
CH-0283-120511.657.1111111111111111111111111111
HELLO THERE, JANE BITCH SLEAZE STARWALKER OF NON 1896
(THESE WORDS ARE LEGALLY SWORN TO TRUTHS,
UNDER SELF PROCLAIMED PENALTIES FOR LIBLE AND OR PERJURY)
“MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY” ACCORDING
TO MIGHTY GOD GOOGLE
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
So far today, I have had two major UTILITY ASSAULTS, covertly and illegally fucking perpetrated against me, WHERE ARE YOU FCC ROBERT MCDOWELL, OLD HADDONFIELD SCHOOL CHUM. Mister Mackey said you would grow up and be a man, so would you please step up to the plate now and help me, TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! On top of this, planes all day have been buzzing around, their evil cheated DOW JONES STOCK MARKET just as I predicted and TOLD YOU GINA, flew way up for another MONDAY AND WEEK OF BULLISH SOARING, my hallway screamer scum bag neighbors are nut case monsters, it is getting worse and worse, somebody is putting all these diseased monsters up to all of this, and I KNOW IT IS DONALD JOHN BASSLER SCUMBALL TRUMP JUNIOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is no way it is my dirt ball son in law, as he stopped taking over my computer a couple months ago at the same time that he went into MCD (DOGHOUSE) for his infidelity. I do not believe he is in any position to fuck with me while in the doghouse right now. That leaves President Hopeful the clown buffoon. Only somebody with enormous mother fucking wealth and power can be pulling all of this off. Also, right before the closing fucking bell on Wall Street, I took another loud horrific FIRE ALARM ATTACK at the building here. I never ever would have fucking moved into this hell if I had known all of this mother fucking shit about this nightmare horror show. When things get this bad, other things eventually follow, they cannot fail, it is a powerful mother fucking parallel event. PUSSY COMMAND will be starting up soon, huge ultra monster fucking time, unless this backs off a little bit, I'LL FUCKING PROMISE YOU ALL THAT!!!!!! Also, major fucking klutz out shit is starting and will only grow fucking exponentially worse as this progresses without fucking let up or mercy. Before I started this blog, the shouting in the hallway went on for half an hour or so with these nut case butt wipes next door. It is only a matter of fucking time before monster stereo man kicks in from next door. If it were not for an empty stairwell on the opposite side, I would be totally, fully, absolutely, and completely FUCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Right after that, I went to move on my bed and forgot that I had a glass of cunt eating grape juice on the floor, and I kicked the stupid fucking thing over and spilled it all over my orange throw rug, and had to quickly get hot soapy water and a rag, and whatever muscle I could muster up; and scrub like a fucking trapped animal, in a Roddenberry menagerie from the middle sixties.
Work was hard and hell today. I worked like a fucking jack hammer highway worker in an Arizona July desert void of water or shade. The meeting that gets me off my feet for a short time that breaks up the day, was for whatever reason, just suddenly canceled, and I worked my mother fucking ass hole fucking off, from the minute I arrived, until I clocked the fucking shit out of there. As I said, it is now a matter of time, before some luscious fucking pussy just throws herself at me, and this time brother, I'll fucking take advantage of the situation, unlike the thousands of times in the past when I pull a fucking Nancy Reagan on the slut. Once this happens, it will be the total demise of this EVIL EMPIRE, and the other 99 will get their chance, finally; to live in the land of relative freedom, freedom from the oppression of the powerful , I will abbreviate this to (FFOP). Pronounce it EFFOP if you like, I'll be using the word.
The first utility attack was the telephone when they illegally cut into my line and cut me off from the system when my bills are paid and up to date. They do this intentionally when I am in a trance with the lightning goddess DIANA, as it has a tendency to cause major fucking shit. Four summers ago on June 21st in oh-Marola-eight, they did this, and I ended up all over the place, or it could have been the next huge interaction that resulted after this, I am not sure right now, but remember the date of August 22, just a week shy of the official Stockholm Syndrome kidnapping of me by members of the greatest family in the world, be it distant and poor branches of it or not. To pull off a great con scam job, you do not do the obvious. If MC herself had done all of this directly for example, who wouldn't believe it then? It always goes back to the great Levi March on the LAW & Order episode with the GRIFFIN.
Well, since they (THE WOMO GARBAGE) won't back this off one tiny fucking iota, we will now talk a bit more about the great and mighty and
quite illustrious HADDONWOOD SWIM AND HEALTH CLUB, that went the way of Gerard Stiles and Dark Shadows, and Collinwood, right down to the times and years. All fans of the hit 60's television soap show of Gothic morbidity, know perfectly clearly and well, Mister Nixon, Mrs. Nixon, and everybody freaking else; that this is beyond outlandish and just too weird to be true as far as all of it being some gigantic mother fucking coincidence, YO folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gimme a dam break. What you do not have a clue about unless you are Steve Hawking, is that we all are a larger 'personality' in and from, a lighter, and virtually gravitation-less higher plane or realm. Now you must begin by knowing a powerful fucking secret peeps, and that is that LIGHT is the reflection of TIME. My daughter told me this before she was born, in a powerful vision, and reminded me of this all over again about 3.5 years ago, during my last months of residing in my Mullica Township, New Jersey trailer at Jenny Plageman's trailer park of HELLHORRORS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now this larger self dreams down into a hyperspace, or a trillion to the power of trillions, of parallel universes, where pieces of our total selves, all exist and live in separate lives. The science of Quantum Mechanics and or Physics, attempts to unravel lots of shit pertaining to this, and in some ways succeeds quite well, and in others, it simply fails miserably and totally. Still this science is young and new, and beginning to learn the strange forces in the world of the Quantum, as well as the way certain smaller things operate in an entirely set of laws than we can begin as of yet to start understanding and or appreciating. Here I am preaching all of this shit to the blog worlds of cyberspace, and it is me that needs to hear and have these concepts reflected back at me. Human life tends to make us forget what we totally remember. When certain doors are opened and walked through, life cannot ever go back again. You may think you are walking back out of the room, when all that really is happening is that you are walking into an illusion. You cannot walk both ways through subatomic doors. I am being figurative peeps in my words here, but it does give a bang up illustration, so I will say these things. If any one reading this, could see for five seconds, and hold their attention that long, on what I totally know, and thus would be existing in a truer fifth dimensional reality; it is doubtful, you could ever shed off the two dimensions you experienced for those tiny little five seconds, and thus, you would become like I am, trapped in hyperspace, and with awareness to this truth. This makes me and all of you as different as train and an elephant. This is just truth, nothing more, and with no hidden implications or meanings within these symbols either.
The owners of this world, the wealthiest families, know completely, that I have stumbled onto gargantuan dangerous fucking shit over the past thirty-five years or so, and that it is growing quantitatively, and beyond and independent of my control. They also know, unless they are swallowing stupidity pills, like kids eating Ecstasy tablets at some wild NYC party club; that this is why quantum fitting has placed a lot of stuff together in the way that it has, and obviously has plans far beyond my limited horizons to even begin to venture a guess with any real hope of honest accuracy.
If something begins vibrating, the faster it goes, the more atomic friction or rubbing occurs, and the first observable bi-product of this is HEAT. As this intensifies, the next one is LIGHT. Beyond this comes all kinds of assortments of cosmic rays. As things go faster, they get hotter, brighter, and normally in post-atomic-size worlds, grow smaller. Other forces exist however that cause the opposite of this as far as size is concerned, and because of an unknown secret of up-line and down-line connective-ness below the mind realm or the 6th dimension. Many of today's scientists still wonder about open and closed cosmos based on the 2.7 degree kelvin average temperature, total matter per cubic centimeter, and many other factors all connected with this that need not be addressed right now. The hypersphere is a simple concept. Take a board and make it longer and longer, and eventually, it bends down on its two ends under its own weight. No straight line can endlessly not eventually bend down and come around full circle, literally. Both space as well as motion intertwine in special and amazing ways. Looking at the cosmos from outside and beyond, it would look like a sphere, a big basketball of a sort. But the ball is moving. This causes many things to all become real. Many formulas show that an open end system will make time start all over again. This is a very simplified way of putting some math formulas into converted English language nomenclature. Put another way, those who think of a big-bang-beginning of time, never see that this is the exact sameness as the end of time from the past cycle. So if time is so many years total, then how many cycles are there? Well, this is what you will not easily grasp. There is no beginning or ending of this loop because it is compressed into a dimension where outside of it is the higher dimension that thought its way into the game it created and is playing, really, us, and what we are playing, and distracting, from the pure hell of existing. Since there are an infinite amount of non-existers, and a finite space-time-mind dimension in six dimensions, there simply is no more room for any more non-existors, so those who exist, just exist, and this concept was somehow figured out and known by the Roddenberry team after Gene passed or woke up really, and I'm speaking of the movie “Deep Space Nine”, from which many offshoot television shows spawned out of. But how does this super compressed and abridged little lesson from 2100 or really, then; '88-2', on Jewelly White's Mayan Calendar or (JWMC), relate to Haddonwood Swim Club and 1996, when it forever closed down, overnight? Many rumors have circulated around about all of this, and I have told a few things on numerous previous blogs. Well, the Quantum World is what human science perceives when observing and experimenting, but in fact, it is all there because of the upline-downline system that is part of a gigantic THOUGHT in the 6th dimension. In 2007, I talked about a strange place containing 12 elevators, 3 of them on four sides of a room, all together in the center part along each of the walls. Each elevator has controls inside of them, called TRINITRAIL CONTROL. Every 60 degrees along a circle is a point of a trinitrail line. Move the intersection of a normal “X” closer together and simply add in another perfectly aligned line through it, the asterisk, ******. Now count the ends of the asterisk made here. Then look at your keyboard. It prints out only five, not six, yet the key shows the full six pointed system intersecting, the triple-X, and just why this discrepancy exists, I cannot in good conscience tell you. I will speculate however, that it is there just so I can further show the power and awesome mystery behind this triple-X. This is the same parlor trick that the quantum worlds used to get the word “MI” to be on the start of the song called, “Real Good Girl” from 1986, that I wrote and copyrighted on the 15th day of August. Who put the floppy disk virus into the fort Pierce Public Library System, so that many times, the word 'ButButButButBut' would keep coming out without even typing anything, it is all up on older blogs from 2010, at www.blogger.com/. I had not yet seen the movie MC was staring in at that time in the spring of 2010, called, “Precious”, but if you get it, and it was done in late 2009; the scene where the fight in the special-ed-school erupts, suddenly has the word “BUT” come out real loud, and out of place. Then my dad had a favorite expression that he used a lot in 1975 while we were living in Lindenwold, New Jersey at the same apartment complex where today in a new name, was right next to the complex where I dated Helen Zebriski in 1999, and had the experience of a lifetime that night we stayed overnight at the Sands Casino, with Sarah Callio's in law parents, the Martino's, at the Blue Parrot Club. This expression that my dad used, was, “Fuck this shit”. If you get a movie called, “12 Angry Men”, and carefully listen to the soundtrack on it, right after the man with the accent wants to change his verdict from guilty to not guilty, and he says 'BEG PARDON', listen and you will distinctly hear the man who complains a lot throughout the show, say, and in the days where a black and white Henry Fonda movie would strictly prohibit this language, “FUCK THIS SHIT”. None of these things just happened, and are all things that the sixth dimension is behind and controlling, for reasons none other than a gigantic game called Ultimate Distraction. What is being distracted from is the fact that existers must exist. It is that simple, just as Red John would put it so well, from Campbell's Soup to Colorado. Now in like manner, this entire deal with SSJK, is a game of distraction. I had no idea who Mister Krassle was in the Haddonwood days. It was in the following years that came right after this era, that I came to learn all about it. I can only safely blog this much today. I made friends with a dude who resembled JJ Evans father's father, on the television sitcom show called, “Good Times” from the seventies, and we would hang out and talk from time to time, at the deep south end of the indoor swimming pool. He told me that I would not be able to stay on the bottom of the pool if I did a special trick with my mind. When I did it, he was right, and I could not stay submerged. Then he told me that I would have a powerful dream that night that it was several years ago and I was on a raft with a friend of mine, and that I should try the same trick when we are trapped by a powerful bay current in the Tuckerton Bay. I tried remembering the event that I knew happened, and until the dream came and went, it remained a blur. However, I went onto tell him the next time we ran into each other, that I experienced an evental time warp, and he laughed and said it is all a trick. Then he asked me what I remembered about experiencing a boat ride that kept repeating itself. Instantly, I remembered a powerful thing from 1986, when David Roth and myself were on Long Beach Island, and indeed, the boat sank, and I died, and then I woke up and it started all over again, over and over. He said that in many other realms of the mind, it is still going on, even though in any one realm, it happens but once. Then he chuckled and talked about compressed boxium and told me how someday when things all weigh next to nothing, hurling ourselves to the stars will be as easy as pie. I just gave him a ling vacant stare. More will be told later. Right now, this incredible dude is behind all that has happened to me for the past 16 years, as it was after he did one huge thing, that my sudden desire to find a seemingly magical teenaged girl from my past, was kindled into a flame throwing rocket, and totally out of control and irresistible, altering my life as I knew it, forever. In 2008, he came back to me again, at a cigar store on the White Horse Pike, in the blueberry capitol of the world, Hammonton, New Jersey, USAESMWG.
********BLOG ENDS********
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“A SIMPLER THAN EINSTEIN FORMULA, EW=ALOE”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN © 2006-2011
WORLD LABORATORIES DATE AND TIME FILE:
CH-0283-120511.657.1111111111111111111111111111
HELLO THERE, JANE BITCH SLEAZE STARWALKER OF NON 1896
(THESE WORDS ARE LEGALLY SWORN TO TRUTHS,
UNDER SELF PROCLAIMED PENALTIES FOR LIBLE AND OR PERJURY)
“MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY” ACCORDING
TO MIGHTY GOD GOOGLE
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
So far today, I have had two major UTILITY ASSAULTS, covertly and illegally fucking perpetrated against me, WHERE ARE YOU FCC ROBERT MCDOWELL, OLD HADDONFIELD SCHOOL CHUM. Mister Mackey said you would grow up and be a man, so would you please step up to the plate now and help me, TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! On top of this, planes all day have been buzzing around, their evil cheated DOW JONES STOCK MARKET just as I predicted and TOLD YOU GINA, flew way up for another MONDAY AND WEEK OF BULLISH SOARING, my hallway screamer scum bag neighbors are nut case monsters, it is getting worse and worse, somebody is putting all these diseased monsters up to all of this, and I KNOW IT IS DONALD JOHN BASSLER SCUMBALL TRUMP JUNIOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is no way it is my dirt ball son in law, as he stopped taking over my computer a couple months ago at the same time that he went into MCD (DOGHOUSE) for his infidelity. I do not believe he is in any position to fuck with me while in the doghouse right now. That leaves President Hopeful the clown buffoon. Only somebody with enormous mother fucking wealth and power can be pulling all of this off. Also, right before the closing fucking bell on Wall Street, I took another loud horrific FIRE ALARM ATTACK at the building here. I never ever would have fucking moved into this hell if I had known all of this mother fucking shit about this nightmare horror show. When things get this bad, other things eventually follow, they cannot fail, it is a powerful mother fucking parallel event. PUSSY COMMAND will be starting up soon, huge ultra monster fucking time, unless this backs off a little bit, I'LL FUCKING PROMISE YOU ALL THAT!!!!!! Also, major fucking klutz out shit is starting and will only grow fucking exponentially worse as this progresses without fucking let up or mercy. Before I started this blog, the shouting in the hallway went on for half an hour or so with these nut case butt wipes next door. It is only a matter of fucking time before monster stereo man kicks in from next door. If it were not for an empty stairwell on the opposite side, I would be totally, fully, absolutely, and completely FUCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Right after that, I went to move on my bed and forgot that I had a glass of cunt eating grape juice on the floor, and I kicked the stupid fucking thing over and spilled it all over my orange throw rug, and had to quickly get hot soapy water and a rag, and whatever muscle I could muster up; and scrub like a fucking trapped animal, in a Roddenberry menagerie from the middle sixties.
Work was hard and hell today. I worked like a fucking jack hammer highway worker in an Arizona July desert void of water or shade. The meeting that gets me off my feet for a short time that breaks up the day, was for whatever reason, just suddenly canceled, and I worked my mother fucking ass hole fucking off, from the minute I arrived, until I clocked the fucking shit out of there. As I said, it is now a matter of time, before some luscious fucking pussy just throws herself at me, and this time brother, I'll fucking take advantage of the situation, unlike the thousands of times in the past when I pull a fucking Nancy Reagan on the slut. Once this happens, it will be the total demise of this EVIL EMPIRE, and the other 99 will get their chance, finally; to live in the land of relative freedom, freedom from the oppression of the powerful , I will abbreviate this to (FFOP). Pronounce it EFFOP if you like, I'll be using the word.
The first utility attack was the telephone when they illegally cut into my line and cut me off from the system when my bills are paid and up to date. They do this intentionally when I am in a trance with the lightning goddess DIANA, as it has a tendency to cause major fucking shit. Four summers ago on June 21st in oh-Marola-eight, they did this, and I ended up all over the place, or it could have been the next huge interaction that resulted after this, I am not sure right now, but remember the date of August 22, just a week shy of the official Stockholm Syndrome kidnapping of me by members of the greatest family in the world, be it distant and poor branches of it or not. To pull off a great con scam job, you do not do the obvious. If MC herself had done all of this directly for example, who wouldn't believe it then? It always goes back to the great Levi March on the LAW & Order episode with the GRIFFIN.
Well, since they (THE WOMO GARBAGE) won't back this off one tiny fucking iota, we will now talk a bit more about the great and mighty and
quite illustrious HADDONWOOD SWIM AND HEALTH CLUB, that went the way of Gerard Stiles and Dark Shadows, and Collinwood, right down to the times and years. All fans of the hit 60's television soap show of Gothic morbidity, know perfectly clearly and well, Mister Nixon, Mrs. Nixon, and everybody freaking else; that this is beyond outlandish and just too weird to be true as far as all of it being some gigantic mother fucking coincidence, YO folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gimme a dam break. What you do not have a clue about unless you are Steve Hawking, is that we all are a larger 'personality' in and from, a lighter, and virtually gravitation-less higher plane or realm. Now you must begin by knowing a powerful fucking secret peeps, and that is that LIGHT is the reflection of TIME. My daughter told me this before she was born, in a powerful vision, and reminded me of this all over again about 3.5 years ago, during my last months of residing in my Mullica Township, New Jersey trailer at Jenny Plageman's trailer park of HELLHORRORS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now this larger self dreams down into a hyperspace, or a trillion to the power of trillions, of parallel universes, where pieces of our total selves, all exist and live in separate lives. The science of Quantum Mechanics and or Physics, attempts to unravel lots of shit pertaining to this, and in some ways succeeds quite well, and in others, it simply fails miserably and totally. Still this science is young and new, and beginning to learn the strange forces in the world of the Quantum, as well as the way certain smaller things operate in an entirely set of laws than we can begin as of yet to start understanding and or appreciating. Here I am preaching all of this shit to the blog worlds of cyberspace, and it is me that needs to hear and have these concepts reflected back at me. Human life tends to make us forget what we totally remember. When certain doors are opened and walked through, life cannot ever go back again. You may think you are walking back out of the room, when all that really is happening is that you are walking into an illusion. You cannot walk both ways through subatomic doors. I am being figurative peeps in my words here, but it does give a bang up illustration, so I will say these things. If any one reading this, could see for five seconds, and hold their attention that long, on what I totally know, and thus would be existing in a truer fifth dimensional reality; it is doubtful, you could ever shed off the two dimensions you experienced for those tiny little five seconds, and thus, you would become like I am, trapped in hyperspace, and with awareness to this truth. This makes me and all of you as different as train and an elephant. This is just truth, nothing more, and with no hidden implications or meanings within these symbols either.
The owners of this world, the wealthiest families, know completely, that I have stumbled onto gargantuan dangerous fucking shit over the past thirty-five years or so, and that it is growing quantitatively, and beyond and independent of my control. They also know, unless they are swallowing stupidity pills, like kids eating Ecstasy tablets at some wild NYC party club; that this is why quantum fitting has placed a lot of stuff together in the way that it has, and obviously has plans far beyond my limited horizons to even begin to venture a guess with any real hope of honest accuracy.
If something begins vibrating, the faster it goes, the more atomic friction or rubbing occurs, and the first observable bi-product of this is HEAT. As this intensifies, the next one is LIGHT. Beyond this comes all kinds of assortments of cosmic rays. As things go faster, they get hotter, brighter, and normally in post-atomic-size worlds, grow smaller. Other forces exist however that cause the opposite of this as far as size is concerned, and because of an unknown secret of up-line and down-line connective-ness below the mind realm or the 6th dimension. Many of today's scientists still wonder about open and closed cosmos based on the 2.7 degree kelvin average temperature, total matter per cubic centimeter, and many other factors all connected with this that need not be addressed right now. The hypersphere is a simple concept. Take a board and make it longer and longer, and eventually, it bends down on its two ends under its own weight. No straight line can endlessly not eventually bend down and come around full circle, literally. Both space as well as motion intertwine in special and amazing ways. Looking at the cosmos from outside and beyond, it would look like a sphere, a big basketball of a sort. But the ball is moving. This causes many things to all become real. Many formulas show that an open end system will make time start all over again. This is a very simplified way of putting some math formulas into converted English language nomenclature. Put another way, those who think of a big-bang-beginning of time, never see that this is the exact sameness as the end of time from the past cycle. So if time is so many years total, then how many cycles are there? Well, this is what you will not easily grasp. There is no beginning or ending of this loop because it is compressed into a dimension where outside of it is the higher dimension that thought its way into the game it created and is playing, really, us, and what we are playing, and distracting, from the pure hell of existing. Since there are an infinite amount of non-existers, and a finite space-time-mind dimension in six dimensions, there simply is no more room for any more non-existors, so those who exist, just exist, and this concept was somehow figured out and known by the Roddenberry team after Gene passed or woke up really, and I'm speaking of the movie “Deep Space Nine”, from which many offshoot television shows spawned out of. But how does this super compressed and abridged little lesson from 2100 or really, then; '88-2', on Jewelly White's Mayan Calendar or (JWMC), relate to Haddonwood Swim Club and 1996, when it forever closed down, overnight? Many rumors have circulated around about all of this, and I have told a few things on numerous previous blogs. Well, the Quantum World is what human science perceives when observing and experimenting, but in fact, it is all there because of the upline-downline system that is part of a gigantic THOUGHT in the 6th dimension. In 2007, I talked about a strange place containing 12 elevators, 3 of them on four sides of a room, all together in the center part along each of the walls. Each elevator has controls inside of them, called TRINITRAIL CONTROL. Every 60 degrees along a circle is a point of a trinitrail line. Move the intersection of a normal “X” closer together and simply add in another perfectly aligned line through it, the asterisk, ******. Now count the ends of the asterisk made here. Then look at your keyboard. It prints out only five, not six, yet the key shows the full six pointed system intersecting, the triple-X, and just why this discrepancy exists, I cannot in good conscience tell you. I will speculate however, that it is there just so I can further show the power and awesome mystery behind this triple-X. This is the same parlor trick that the quantum worlds used to get the word “MI” to be on the start of the song called, “Real Good Girl” from 1986, that I wrote and copyrighted on the 15th day of August. Who put the floppy disk virus into the fort Pierce Public Library System, so that many times, the word 'ButButButButBut' would keep coming out without even typing anything, it is all up on older blogs from 2010, at www.blogger.com/. I had not yet seen the movie MC was staring in at that time in the spring of 2010, called, “Precious”, but if you get it, and it was done in late 2009; the scene where the fight in the special-ed-school erupts, suddenly has the word “BUT” come out real loud, and out of place. Then my dad had a favorite expression that he used a lot in 1975 while we were living in Lindenwold, New Jersey at the same apartment complex where today in a new name, was right next to the complex where I dated Helen Zebriski in 1999, and had the experience of a lifetime that night we stayed overnight at the Sands Casino, with Sarah Callio's in law parents, the Martino's, at the Blue Parrot Club. This expression that my dad used, was, “Fuck this shit”. If you get a movie called, “12 Angry Men”, and carefully listen to the soundtrack on it, right after the man with the accent wants to change his verdict from guilty to not guilty, and he says 'BEG PARDON', listen and you will distinctly hear the man who complains a lot throughout the show, say, and in the days where a black and white Henry Fonda movie would strictly prohibit this language, “FUCK THIS SHIT”. None of these things just happened, and are all things that the sixth dimension is behind and controlling, for reasons none other than a gigantic game called Ultimate Distraction. What is being distracted from is the fact that existers must exist. It is that simple, just as Red John would put it so well, from Campbell's Soup to Colorado. Now in like manner, this entire deal with SSJK, is a game of distraction. I had no idea who Mister Krassle was in the Haddonwood days. It was in the following years that came right after this era, that I came to learn all about it. I can only safely blog this much today. I made friends with a dude who resembled JJ Evans father's father, on the television sitcom show called, “Good Times” from the seventies, and we would hang out and talk from time to time, at the deep south end of the indoor swimming pool. He told me that I would not be able to stay on the bottom of the pool if I did a special trick with my mind. When I did it, he was right, and I could not stay submerged. Then he told me that I would have a powerful dream that night that it was several years ago and I was on a raft with a friend of mine, and that I should try the same trick when we are trapped by a powerful bay current in the Tuckerton Bay. I tried remembering the event that I knew happened, and until the dream came and went, it remained a blur. However, I went onto tell him the next time we ran into each other, that I experienced an evental time warp, and he laughed and said it is all a trick. Then he asked me what I remembered about experiencing a boat ride that kept repeating itself. Instantly, I remembered a powerful thing from 1986, when David Roth and myself were on Long Beach Island, and indeed, the boat sank, and I died, and then I woke up and it started all over again, over and over. He said that in many other realms of the mind, it is still going on, even though in any one realm, it happens but once. Then he chuckled and talked about compressed boxium and told me how someday when things all weigh next to nothing, hurling ourselves to the stars will be as easy as pie. I just gave him a ling vacant stare. More will be told later. Right now, this incredible dude is behind all that has happened to me for the past 16 years, as it was after he did one huge thing, that my sudden desire to find a seemingly magical teenaged girl from my past, was kindled into a flame throwing rocket, and totally out of control and irresistible, altering my life as I knew it, forever. In 2008, he came back to me again, at a cigar store on the White Horse Pike, in the blueberry capitol of the world, Hammonton, New Jersey, USAESMWG.
********BLOG ENDS********
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0282
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Sunday, December 4, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0281
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0281
world laboratories of 2296
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, 12:42 PM-EST
DECEMBER 4, 2011, MY 57TH BOTBAR FUCKING BIRTHDAY
OFFICIAL RESIDENT OF HELL, AS PER JAMES EARL CARTER
FROM THE YEAR 1986 IN MIDDLE AUGUST
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“WHY JIMMY WHY, UPDATED VERSION”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011 ©
STARTING BLOG:
Monster Music Man next door, woke me again, blaring his horrific loud rotten-neighbor music at me, ruining my entire fucking birthday. There is no way to have peace and cunt lapping quiet in this world. Music is so loved by people, personally, I fucking hate it. I hate it when I am somewhere and a radio or something is playing, and some amateur begins to sing along, totally believing they are either Pavarotti or Carey. If they were, that is one thing; but if not, can't you please save it for your shower room while scrubbing up, and do us all a fucking favor. This jerk off next door is old and either hard of hearing, or like most peeps today, just love to blare away and wreck the only two ears that they were born with, believing wither they are indestructible, or that they live 90 years from now where even full ears and eyes are directly transplantable into the brain without any nerve complications.
I asked Gawky Gaukauk just why all of a sudden this neighbor is driving me up a wall and what and who is behind it, by drawing 72 paying cards, eight suits from two decks, containing all cards from aces through nines. The great black cat said the reason for this new hell and misery in my life, is number PCN-781. Now let us talk about this and a lot of other major mother fucking crap as well folks.
I am imagining none of this 57 years of Doctor Feet and his hell, who? No, that is the guy in the telephone booth with the Donald, exchanging phony weaves, dreams, and comfortable shoe insoles. But yes peeps, the other day, I asked this mighty black cat a question on why that horrific day of the 23rd of November was forced on me by these fucking ass monsters, and yes; the answer was again, PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER (PCN)-781. Today, before I began this blog of SJ-CH-0281, again, I drew the two cards that produce the PCN-ROOT DIGITS, these being the 7 and then the 8. The PCN is the difference between these root digits, if any Doctor, and using this digit as the 3rd one, creating a PCN or ROOT DIGITS 78 becomes PCN-781. My root digits are 87 for example, Donald Trump has root digits 23, and so forth. You must use your exact birth given first and last names to get your life-long PERSONAL PCN. By the way, you cannot exact the GAWNUM the same question, unless it pertains to different potential answers because it is asked at different times during ones life. Other than that exception, only once counts; and thus after that, you will get false answers. Do not try getting the GAWNUM to be your genie and give you yeas and no responses. It is designed as a mighty story telling systems of comparisons and matching's; & not to tell you in a direct question, if Johnny Marshmallow should marry Toni-Louise Macbeth. It is designed to bring a new skill to a user, and this being, learning how to figure things around a query, then by varying the words or phrases of query, they can match up PCN-number results to a second half, such as, “My boss is acting totally weird with me because he found out that I...” The dot-dot-dot are numerous possible things you may be wondering and worrying about, and they also all have their own PCN's, when figured out. Then your master PCN of the sentence with your boss is compared GAWNUMLY with numerous other PCN sentences until you start super sleuthing around and get matching answers. It is not six year old stuff, but it is addictive and also fun and entertaining as hell. It is totally real, and it totally works. Anyone thinking this is not so, needs further education on this exact science. I will tell more and more as time and persecution on this off the scales attack, continues to march fucking on to this demonic evil drumbeat. Now I had no particular blog planned out for this weekend, and really was fucking hoping to catch a break, but the WOMO is making me about as miserable as can be conceived, and is responsible for my first degree premeditated murder. It is official that I said I cannot take much more and will need to take my life, sop if this happens, these peeps all need to go to MOTHERFUCKING PRISON FOR THE REST OF THEIR DIRTY FILTHY TWISTED DISEASED LIVES, TO ROT AND SUFFER; JUST AS THEY CAUSED ME TO, for pushing 30 years or so now!!!! I noticed two other pretty much inescapable bullshit coincidences recently. The minute I say that Donald Trump will be president over my non breathing body, he pops up on his dirt bag owned and mobbed up NBC-NETWORK, floozies and all; and fairy god mother news bells; aha-aha-aha, Michele-1980 & family; he decided all over again that he will run, and then began all this persecution on me, as he is been behind the usage of this ICPE tool, ever since I told his peeps at his casino in the summer time of the year 1986, that I use PARALLEL EVENT SYSTEM, to beat the game of roulette, and this would piss off any fucking casino owner, like DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!You cannot say that if you start with this blog, and read backwards, that I DO NOT HAVE PLENTY OF PROOF THAT BACKS UP MY WORDS HERE, FOLKS, NOT UNLESS YOU WANT THE AWARD OF THE DECADE FOR BEING AN ASS AND A MORON, THAT IS.
Well Gawky, despite many uncertainty's in this old sick world, “God's Dog” may have visited “Babylon”, and not in his doggie form, until he was old enough to do a Nancy Reagan, and just say NO to my dear wonderful sweet mom who took a vicious secret to the grave. But still, this “Prophet of Nothing” from “July twelve, nineteen-seventy” a few years back at that time; did not then know that these four things were all PCN-781, shown above in double-quotation. I have a listing matchbook of a dozen or more other less important things, but for now, these four need to be talked about, as something contained in one all any combination or all of them, is causing this real bad hell, according the magic cat of Copyrighted Halloween Day. I am not trying to win power-balls, that is your thing, MIZZ PAULA UWICH!!!!!!!
This is what is causing this neighbor to blare my wall down every day now without fucking mercy, perhaps at Trump's or Nick's behest, but since I have only what detectives call SOLID MOTIVE, I do not have any court evidence to this effect, so I blog out, maybe at their behest. If you see two mean looking kids in a park, you just got there and they are leaving. One is crying and more bloody and dirty than the other one, but you saw nothing, you can solidly speculate that these boys had been fighting since nobody else is around. But you cannot swear in court, one other thing other than this. None of us would have it any other way, it is to easy to get framed and innocently go off to fucking prison. Many guilty's are out walkin' and talkin', while the innocent's are all locked away inside. As I said to Paula, and some others, Regis sir, dog roofs and radio stations all notwithstanding, “BE CAREFUL”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What is good for the goose, you know. I have nothing against the American Criminal Justice System, except for when it doesn't work, which is quite often. IN MY CASE, IT NEVER DOES, AND NEVER HAS.
Let me quickly get into the song from 1988 that I Copyrighted and wrote from my home in Moorestown, NJUSAESMWG, a mile or so away from the home of baseball giant, Mitch Williams, AKA Mister World Series Gamethrow. I know he honestly tried his best, but some were ready in 1993, to shoot the poor devil. Bu7t baseball, at least not at this precise second, is not the topic at hand folks. The song was what led to the project sent down for copyright, called “THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT”. This is why since the middle of the past decade, my blogs on the web are titled this, along with the additional, “INTERNET VERSION”, LIKE DUHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dave and I had taken a trip in the first week in August back a couple of years, in 1986, one night, into New York City. He wanted to go to some club, and see some friends of his, a musical group called “New Shoes”. I could not handle Saturday night traffic in this incredible city so he took the wheel and parked us a few blocks from the club, as he was not able to find a spot closer than this. I relaxed in the passenger seat for close to an hour while he was inside this club, doing whatever he was doing. As soon as he rounded a corner block, along came a girl crossing from my right to my left, and I could not take my eyes off of this tall teenaged curly haired cutie pie. I admit I was pushing 32 and that she was half my age, but the statute of limitations will run out on what I did with her on the 2nd of August, back in 1993. I believe laws have altered, but grandfathers rights in more ways than one, keep me from seeing the inside of a prison. She told me that her feet hurt as she came around to the driver side of the parked car, and peered in at me, cautiously but confidently. I told her my friend is in the club down the street seeing his pals the New Shoes group. She smiled and asked if she could sit inside and get off of her feet. She removed her shoes and left me instantly wishing she had not, pretty as her feet were. Until 2008 ran around, I thought of this night only a few times ever, and remembered little detail. I know we had a little fun, not the only time I had fun in a car during this period in my life, and yes, with the under-aged, as I was going through the normal middle life crises, that went onto worsen ten to twenty years later, until I began blogging and telling my life story, which had quite a therapeutic effect, and calmed me down like a bottle of Ativan tablets. I thought her name was Maria Kelly, and thought no more of this fuzzy memory, other than to write a very mean song about the experience and copyright it on August 15th, in 1986, a couple weeks after the night in the city, called, “Real Good Girl”. Before she exited the vehicle as I had seen David coming back from the club towards the car; she heard some female artist playing on my car stereo, and had noticed my tape recorder in the back seat with a cassette all ready loaded into it, as I was keeping a life journal of things happening to me. She turned the music way up, and literally blew the poor artist, whoever it was, right out of the water, with a voice like nothing I had ever heard or imagined in my wildest mind. In the few minutes before David had been seen walking towards us from quite a distance, and there was a very bright advertising light right where he was walking past and easy to spot. She had asked me if she could have the tape, and I said that I needed it because it had stuff on it on the flip side, personal conversations with a man named Shorty MacInvondi. She giggled at his name and never knew it was a made up name and used for purposes of electronic metaphysics, unlike Donna Summer Jason, who knows all this so well, at least now, but she knew it then, and was convinced early in the eighties that I was sending magical signals to her, because I used a fast erase button that caused a bias playback high oscillating tone to be audible with good speakers, and she admitted it in her 1982 album. Anyway, I really liked this curly haired girl and we exchanged phone numbers, but I threw hers away near the Lincoln tunnel, as she would have ended up putting me on Rikers Island eventually. I had no idea at all, that SR would be the only charge against me if PK pressed charges on me, as she knew stuff that I did not. She insisted on having the tape, and even though I told her I could not give it to her, she faked out like she was putting the recorder back in the back seat, as it was attached by a short rope, around the seat head rest of the passenger front seat. She lifted the tape, as when I got home it was gone. I never heard anything like her voice, it was straight from the heavens.
None of this by itself is all that amazing as far as PCN-781, but when you factor in other things, watch this all widen out. July 12, 1970 was the last NIGHT, and the only NIGHT, that Sarah's great gang called the Atlantic City QM, standing for Quoddy Mockers, was ever seen by me. They knew me and liked me a lot, they all called me THAT-BOY, and never knew my name. Cousin (SANDY) Sandra Shah Snowhite, of Narberth, PAUSAESMWG; told them my name, but they all insisted on calling me, THAT-BOY. I lied about seeing SARAH herself, the only lie ever told on MORIANITY, but enough to place my good name and credibility into question, unfortunately. It gets a lot better still so do not faint out on me yet peeps, please. Nightmares that recurred all through the late eighties and nineties of the past century, haunted me in series of ominous and outlandish vividly colorful dreams of groups and groups of huge air balloons. The girl running the entire thing that was going on, was always the same; and her name was Patty Lang. This name, Paula King, and many others, is one powerful entity and personality by the name Later I realized I had worked with a girl by this name at the recording studio and had totally put this out of my conscious mind from 1979-1981 until I quit on March the eleventh. Her husband was a commercial airlines pilot. They commuted from a place right near the Delaware Memorial Bridge, one hell of a spurious long commute to both of their jobs. Photos of air balloons were both on her hand bag at the studio, as well as a stick or peel on, where she was given permission to place. on the main duplicator machine near the master system; connected to the group of 10 or so electronic-slaves or “duplicators” both accepted terms in the recording business of those days, and I saw these balloons every night at work. This led to those nightmares beginning after I met and did the unspeakable with my own daughter, regarding balloons and Patty. As for God's Dog, our Midge at the Judge's place in Hammonton Berryville, Frank Raso; owner of the rooming-house, before I had been talked into moving in with these distant cousins of my kid; was the most adorable dog I ever met. Add got rid of poor little Midge because she had attacked and killed one of her [precious Cockateel birds. Spell fucking checker is no help whatsoever and I know the species of that bird type is misspelled, so no comments please, tell MICROSUCKS to improve their rotten spellchecker system. THANK-YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know for almost certain, Dawn-Marie called her distant cuzz MC, and sent her a pix. Right after this, she got the same dog. I could be wrong but feel that I am not. The empire ruler knows that on the Astral Plane, I can indeed talk, and that she is endlessly age sixteen out in her wonderful city of SAHASRA DAL KANWAL. This is why I ended up seeing her cool commercial on television that day with the treadmill.
I had my friend at the Indian River State College (IRSC) here in South Florida, run just a few things like this as mathematical odds for happening all just by random chance. He told me it would be trillions if not quadrillions to one against this all being just coincidental. I believe him. Do any of you? This is a tenured professor, not a disabled nutcase certified by the psychiatric profession as a life-long whack-job. Then there is Babylon and all its yacht clubs, banker uncles, astral trips, and balloon bank payments. This is where I was forced to go and visit these rotten and snooty relatives of mine, and was put to work like a slave, either in the yard or on that rotten boat that he loved to take out sailing around LI Sound every freaking summer, with his pal MISTER JIMMY DEAN, and his daughter Christine, who I hear in 1975, got as bit hot and heavy, oh well, who am I to talk, after that night with my own daughter in 1986? I wonder how far I was from Rikers Island. I suppose as close as the nearest cop, oh well, fortune favors the foolish, huh William Whales Shatner????????????????????????????
When I talked a dozen blogs or so back about comparing PCN-550 with PCN-550, the reason it fucked up, is my error folks, for those who fucking caught this, sorry. It was December, two-thousand-nine, but I typed into the blog 2010, my error, oh well Bruce Allen Pennock of 1973, NOBODY'S PERFECT, not even Mini Great Jewelly, or Mini Great Ripperton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So sahwee Ambassador Bomb of December the seventh, in 1941, kind sir. Watch the audio volume. Hell my next door nut case nabe would wipe out Fort Pierce with that song I sent down there in 1983, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.
MAGNESONIC, KICK IN OR I WILL FUCKING KICK FUCKING ASS, YO!!!!
ENDING BLOG:
world laboratories of 2296
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, 12:42 PM-EST
DECEMBER 4, 2011, MY 57TH BOTBAR FUCKING BIRTHDAY
OFFICIAL RESIDENT OF HELL, AS PER JAMES EARL CARTER
FROM THE YEAR 1986 IN MIDDLE AUGUST
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“WHY JIMMY WHY, UPDATED VERSION”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011 ©
STARTING BLOG:
Monster Music Man next door, woke me again, blaring his horrific loud rotten-neighbor music at me, ruining my entire fucking birthday. There is no way to have peace and cunt lapping quiet in this world. Music is so loved by people, personally, I fucking hate it. I hate it when I am somewhere and a radio or something is playing, and some amateur begins to sing along, totally believing they are either Pavarotti or Carey. If they were, that is one thing; but if not, can't you please save it for your shower room while scrubbing up, and do us all a fucking favor. This jerk off next door is old and either hard of hearing, or like most peeps today, just love to blare away and wreck the only two ears that they were born with, believing wither they are indestructible, or that they live 90 years from now where even full ears and eyes are directly transplantable into the brain without any nerve complications.
I asked Gawky Gaukauk just why all of a sudden this neighbor is driving me up a wall and what and who is behind it, by drawing 72 paying cards, eight suits from two decks, containing all cards from aces through nines. The great black cat said the reason for this new hell and misery in my life, is number PCN-781. Now let us talk about this and a lot of other major mother fucking crap as well folks.
I am imagining none of this 57 years of Doctor Feet and his hell, who? No, that is the guy in the telephone booth with the Donald, exchanging phony weaves, dreams, and comfortable shoe insoles. But yes peeps, the other day, I asked this mighty black cat a question on why that horrific day of the 23rd of November was forced on me by these fucking ass monsters, and yes; the answer was again, PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER (PCN)-781. Today, before I began this blog of SJ-CH-0281, again, I drew the two cards that produce the PCN-ROOT DIGITS, these being the 7 and then the 8. The PCN is the difference between these root digits, if any Doctor, and using this digit as the 3rd one, creating a PCN or ROOT DIGITS 78 becomes PCN-781. My root digits are 87 for example, Donald Trump has root digits 23, and so forth. You must use your exact birth given first and last names to get your life-long PERSONAL PCN. By the way, you cannot exact the GAWNUM the same question, unless it pertains to different potential answers because it is asked at different times during ones life. Other than that exception, only once counts; and thus after that, you will get false answers. Do not try getting the GAWNUM to be your genie and give you yeas and no responses. It is designed as a mighty story telling systems of comparisons and matching's; & not to tell you in a direct question, if Johnny Marshmallow should marry Toni-Louise Macbeth. It is designed to bring a new skill to a user, and this being, learning how to figure things around a query, then by varying the words or phrases of query, they can match up PCN-number results to a second half, such as, “My boss is acting totally weird with me because he found out that I...” The dot-dot-dot are numerous possible things you may be wondering and worrying about, and they also all have their own PCN's, when figured out. Then your master PCN of the sentence with your boss is compared GAWNUMLY with numerous other PCN sentences until you start super sleuthing around and get matching answers. It is not six year old stuff, but it is addictive and also fun and entertaining as hell. It is totally real, and it totally works. Anyone thinking this is not so, needs further education on this exact science. I will tell more and more as time and persecution on this off the scales attack, continues to march fucking on to this demonic evil drumbeat. Now I had no particular blog planned out for this weekend, and really was fucking hoping to catch a break, but the WOMO is making me about as miserable as can be conceived, and is responsible for my first degree premeditated murder. It is official that I said I cannot take much more and will need to take my life, sop if this happens, these peeps all need to go to MOTHERFUCKING PRISON FOR THE REST OF THEIR DIRTY FILTHY TWISTED DISEASED LIVES, TO ROT AND SUFFER; JUST AS THEY CAUSED ME TO, for pushing 30 years or so now!!!! I noticed two other pretty much inescapable bullshit coincidences recently. The minute I say that Donald Trump will be president over my non breathing body, he pops up on his dirt bag owned and mobbed up NBC-NETWORK, floozies and all; and fairy god mother news bells; aha-aha-aha, Michele-1980 & family; he decided all over again that he will run, and then began all this persecution on me, as he is been behind the usage of this ICPE tool, ever since I told his peeps at his casino in the summer time of the year 1986, that I use PARALLEL EVENT SYSTEM, to beat the game of roulette, and this would piss off any fucking casino owner, like DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!You cannot say that if you start with this blog, and read backwards, that I DO NOT HAVE PLENTY OF PROOF THAT BACKS UP MY WORDS HERE, FOLKS, NOT UNLESS YOU WANT THE AWARD OF THE DECADE FOR BEING AN ASS AND A MORON, THAT IS.
Well Gawky, despite many uncertainty's in this old sick world, “God's Dog” may have visited “Babylon”, and not in his doggie form, until he was old enough to do a Nancy Reagan, and just say NO to my dear wonderful sweet mom who took a vicious secret to the grave. But still, this “Prophet of Nothing” from “July twelve, nineteen-seventy” a few years back at that time; did not then know that these four things were all PCN-781, shown above in double-quotation. I have a listing matchbook of a dozen or more other less important things, but for now, these four need to be talked about, as something contained in one all any combination or all of them, is causing this real bad hell, according the magic cat of Copyrighted Halloween Day. I am not trying to win power-balls, that is your thing, MIZZ PAULA UWICH!!!!!!!
This is what is causing this neighbor to blare my wall down every day now without fucking mercy, perhaps at Trump's or Nick's behest, but since I have only what detectives call SOLID MOTIVE, I do not have any court evidence to this effect, so I blog out, maybe at their behest. If you see two mean looking kids in a park, you just got there and they are leaving. One is crying and more bloody and dirty than the other one, but you saw nothing, you can solidly speculate that these boys had been fighting since nobody else is around. But you cannot swear in court, one other thing other than this. None of us would have it any other way, it is to easy to get framed and innocently go off to fucking prison. Many guilty's are out walkin' and talkin', while the innocent's are all locked away inside. As I said to Paula, and some others, Regis sir, dog roofs and radio stations all notwithstanding, “BE CAREFUL”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What is good for the goose, you know. I have nothing against the American Criminal Justice System, except for when it doesn't work, which is quite often. IN MY CASE, IT NEVER DOES, AND NEVER HAS.
Let me quickly get into the song from 1988 that I Copyrighted and wrote from my home in Moorestown, NJUSAESMWG, a mile or so away from the home of baseball giant, Mitch Williams, AKA Mister World Series Gamethrow. I know he honestly tried his best, but some were ready in 1993, to shoot the poor devil. Bu7t baseball, at least not at this precise second, is not the topic at hand folks. The song was what led to the project sent down for copyright, called “THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT”. This is why since the middle of the past decade, my blogs on the web are titled this, along with the additional, “INTERNET VERSION”, LIKE DUHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dave and I had taken a trip in the first week in August back a couple of years, in 1986, one night, into New York City. He wanted to go to some club, and see some friends of his, a musical group called “New Shoes”. I could not handle Saturday night traffic in this incredible city so he took the wheel and parked us a few blocks from the club, as he was not able to find a spot closer than this. I relaxed in the passenger seat for close to an hour while he was inside this club, doing whatever he was doing. As soon as he rounded a corner block, along came a girl crossing from my right to my left, and I could not take my eyes off of this tall teenaged curly haired cutie pie. I admit I was pushing 32 and that she was half my age, but the statute of limitations will run out on what I did with her on the 2nd of August, back in 1993. I believe laws have altered, but grandfathers rights in more ways than one, keep me from seeing the inside of a prison. She told me that her feet hurt as she came around to the driver side of the parked car, and peered in at me, cautiously but confidently. I told her my friend is in the club down the street seeing his pals the New Shoes group. She smiled and asked if she could sit inside and get off of her feet. She removed her shoes and left me instantly wishing she had not, pretty as her feet were. Until 2008 ran around, I thought of this night only a few times ever, and remembered little detail. I know we had a little fun, not the only time I had fun in a car during this period in my life, and yes, with the under-aged, as I was going through the normal middle life crises, that went onto worsen ten to twenty years later, until I began blogging and telling my life story, which had quite a therapeutic effect, and calmed me down like a bottle of Ativan tablets. I thought her name was Maria Kelly, and thought no more of this fuzzy memory, other than to write a very mean song about the experience and copyright it on August 15th, in 1986, a couple weeks after the night in the city, called, “Real Good Girl”. Before she exited the vehicle as I had seen David coming back from the club towards the car; she heard some female artist playing on my car stereo, and had noticed my tape recorder in the back seat with a cassette all ready loaded into it, as I was keeping a life journal of things happening to me. She turned the music way up, and literally blew the poor artist, whoever it was, right out of the water, with a voice like nothing I had ever heard or imagined in my wildest mind. In the few minutes before David had been seen walking towards us from quite a distance, and there was a very bright advertising light right where he was walking past and easy to spot. She had asked me if she could have the tape, and I said that I needed it because it had stuff on it on the flip side, personal conversations with a man named Shorty MacInvondi. She giggled at his name and never knew it was a made up name and used for purposes of electronic metaphysics, unlike Donna Summer Jason, who knows all this so well, at least now, but she knew it then, and was convinced early in the eighties that I was sending magical signals to her, because I used a fast erase button that caused a bias playback high oscillating tone to be audible with good speakers, and she admitted it in her 1982 album. Anyway, I really liked this curly haired girl and we exchanged phone numbers, but I threw hers away near the Lincoln tunnel, as she would have ended up putting me on Rikers Island eventually. I had no idea at all, that SR would be the only charge against me if PK pressed charges on me, as she knew stuff that I did not. She insisted on having the tape, and even though I told her I could not give it to her, she faked out like she was putting the recorder back in the back seat, as it was attached by a short rope, around the seat head rest of the passenger front seat. She lifted the tape, as when I got home it was gone. I never heard anything like her voice, it was straight from the heavens.
None of this by itself is all that amazing as far as PCN-781, but when you factor in other things, watch this all widen out. July 12, 1970 was the last NIGHT, and the only NIGHT, that Sarah's great gang called the Atlantic City QM, standing for Quoddy Mockers, was ever seen by me. They knew me and liked me a lot, they all called me THAT-BOY, and never knew my name. Cousin (SANDY) Sandra Shah Snowhite, of Narberth, PAUSAESMWG; told them my name, but they all insisted on calling me, THAT-BOY. I lied about seeing SARAH herself, the only lie ever told on MORIANITY, but enough to place my good name and credibility into question, unfortunately. It gets a lot better still so do not faint out on me yet peeps, please. Nightmares that recurred all through the late eighties and nineties of the past century, haunted me in series of ominous and outlandish vividly colorful dreams of groups and groups of huge air balloons. The girl running the entire thing that was going on, was always the same; and her name was Patty Lang. This name, Paula King, and many others, is one powerful entity and personality by the name Later I realized I had worked with a girl by this name at the recording studio and had totally put this out of my conscious mind from 1979-1981 until I quit on March the eleventh. Her husband was a commercial airlines pilot. They commuted from a place right near the Delaware Memorial Bridge, one hell of a spurious long commute to both of their jobs. Photos of air balloons were both on her hand bag at the studio, as well as a stick or peel on, where she was given permission to place. on the main duplicator machine near the master system; connected to the group of 10 or so electronic-slaves or “duplicators” both accepted terms in the recording business of those days, and I saw these balloons every night at work. This led to those nightmares beginning after I met and did the unspeakable with my own daughter, regarding balloons and Patty. As for God's Dog, our Midge at the Judge's place in Hammonton Berryville, Frank Raso; owner of the rooming-house, before I had been talked into moving in with these distant cousins of my kid; was the most adorable dog I ever met. Add got rid of poor little Midge because she had attacked and killed one of her [precious Cockateel birds. Spell fucking checker is no help whatsoever and I know the species of that bird type is misspelled, so no comments please, tell MICROSUCKS to improve their rotten spellchecker system. THANK-YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know for almost certain, Dawn-Marie called her distant cuzz MC, and sent her a pix. Right after this, she got the same dog. I could be wrong but feel that I am not. The empire ruler knows that on the Astral Plane, I can indeed talk, and that she is endlessly age sixteen out in her wonderful city of SAHASRA DAL KANWAL. This is why I ended up seeing her cool commercial on television that day with the treadmill.
I had my friend at the Indian River State College (IRSC) here in South Florida, run just a few things like this as mathematical odds for happening all just by random chance. He told me it would be trillions if not quadrillions to one against this all being just coincidental. I believe him. Do any of you? This is a tenured professor, not a disabled nutcase certified by the psychiatric profession as a life-long whack-job. Then there is Babylon and all its yacht clubs, banker uncles, astral trips, and balloon bank payments. This is where I was forced to go and visit these rotten and snooty relatives of mine, and was put to work like a slave, either in the yard or on that rotten boat that he loved to take out sailing around LI Sound every freaking summer, with his pal MISTER JIMMY DEAN, and his daughter Christine, who I hear in 1975, got as bit hot and heavy, oh well, who am I to talk, after that night with my own daughter in 1986? I wonder how far I was from Rikers Island. I suppose as close as the nearest cop, oh well, fortune favors the foolish, huh William Whales Shatner????????????????????????????
When I talked a dozen blogs or so back about comparing PCN-550 with PCN-550, the reason it fucked up, is my error folks, for those who fucking caught this, sorry. It was December, two-thousand-nine, but I typed into the blog 2010, my error, oh well Bruce Allen Pennock of 1973, NOBODY'S PERFECT, not even Mini Great Jewelly, or Mini Great Ripperton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So sahwee Ambassador Bomb of December the seventh, in 1941, kind sir. Watch the audio volume. Hell my next door nut case nabe would wipe out Fort Pierce with that song I sent down there in 1983, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.
MAGNESONIC, KICK IN OR I WILL FUCKING KICK FUCKING ASS, YO!!!!
ENDING BLOG:
Saturday, December 3, 2011
KING NEBNOOSHOO SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0280
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0280
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
START BLOG:
In my discussions of this nightmare that I have been going through with the PARALLEL EVENT and the evil vile filthy monstrous WOMO, I have not recently told how a lot more than just the DOW JONES STOCKS, are part of this. So are the PHILADELPHIA SPORTS TEAMS, and it is all blogged about, all through many blogs in 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2010. HURTING ME via persecution and constant continual covert harassment, causes the following parallel events to happen, way beyond any normal odds of non propensity.
DOW JONES STOCK MARKETS GO UP.
PHILADELPHIA FLYERS WIN.
PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES LOSE.
PHILADELPHIA EAGLES LOSE.
PHILADELPHIA 76ERS LOSE.
When I am left alone by the WOMO-ENEMY, or when things go good for me in any way, then the reverse goes on a preponderance for occurrence. This means that when things get better for me that the:
DOW JONES STOCK MARKETS GO DOWN.
PHILADELPHIA FLYERS LOSE.
PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES WIN.
PHILADELPHIA EAGLES WIN.
PHILADELPHIA 76ERS WIN.
The nightmare around me is 99% wrapped up in the paragraph above. The dirt bag cheating FLYERS won back to back games, tonight and last night, and all because of this death siege on me that is worse than anything I have seen in perhaps my entire life, as I am thinking seriously of committing suicide every minute of the day. That is one way to know you are not imaging how mother fucking bad things are against you, believe me folks. Also, last night, the EAGLES were destroyed. FLYERS WIN/WIN, and EAGLES LOSE; and the stock market was up thousands of points last week. ALL OF THIS WAS SAID AND TOTALLY PREDICTED BY ME, AM I RIGHT OR NOT, GIANT GINA; MY LOVELY ARM BREAKER OF THE NINETEEN-NINETIES? Just as you said to me many times when we arm wrestled and you said you would pin me within a second or two, and after you slammed me down, you giant beautiful goddess you, “TOLD YOU”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WELL GINA, NOW I WILL TELL MY BLOGAUD (Blogging Audience). Yes folks, TOLD-UUUU this would all happen. This is the helliday-holiday, and the worst one I get as far as this annual siege is concerned, or THANKSGIVING. The Holiday may be officially over, but shit with this disease against me, begins ahead of the great THURSDAY each year; and it sure as fucking bullshit hell-fire goes beyond this day as well. My WOMO enemy loves to attack my innocent and pathetic little miserable fucking life on EVERY SINGLE FUCKING HOLIDAY HELLIDAY. For new readers, 'WOMO' stands for, WORLD OWNER MILITUFORCE OTAMMITES.
WOMO enemies have 'magically' broken my equalizer on my stereo. This is how THIS DIRT FILTH got their way with all of this, PROPERTY DAMAGE causes major EVIL EMPIRE as listed above with the various parallel event situations, or ICPE WEAPONRY. Merging both damaging my property with all of the other persecutions, noise, aerial, PAWM-PIE-ETTOS, or making people at work, as well as, all around my interaction; nasty with me, and hate me for no reason whatsoever. The list is endless, but you get the general drift of this lesson, hopefully, and whether you believe me or not is not important, or even read it, as getting it out to the world ELECTRONICALLY, is the power that really counts behind this, nothing else, YO. I know that MAGNESONIC is one and the same thing with me placing these words on blog websites, and it will only tolerate so much unfair hell perpetrated on me, and finally and eventually, gigantic earthquakes will rip shit apart all over the world, along with volcanoes spewing death and ash all over, tidal waves, storms, droughts, and all manner of retaliatory strikes against this EVIL EMPIRE.
On top of the property damage, these jerk offs next door blasted their music most of the day today. This is all something that began right after the computer key-worm virus somehow ended, and I no longer get my clock changed back to Pacific Time, or my IP-address turned to an address on 36th Avenue in San Mateo, California. This all stopped a couple months ago, and never resumed. Then Ann to0ld me it all happened the same time that Ding-man was put in the doghouse for cheating on MC with his Nickelodeon Nicky-teens. This all times out together with my being taken into an office and given lots of crazy shit, and told I could no longer talk to the parent-child counselor from 2:15-2:30 PM-EST on Wednesdays. I never started this, it was forced on me by a lady at the harvest named Linda. She twisted my arm to talk to him. Remember folks, things are always done to me, then it is always my fucking fault, I should be totally fucking used to this by now, but I cannot get used to unfair treatment despite having it applied against me for precisely 57 years, as this is my birthday today, 12/04. Still, if this was the only weird wild thing that happened in 2011 or in any other prior year as well, for that fucking matter; I would give an arm, a leg, an eye, an ear, and all of my rotting teeth. Dawn was struck with that old TOOTHACHE-MAJOR button, just as I am, back at the two residences where they had me kidnapped under Stockholm Syndrome, and by the way, I swear this is all true and real under all and any legal penalties for perjury and or libel!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Take me to fucking court. As for JC PENNEY, they have, I owe them money and cannot afford to pay it right now and must tell a judge this later this month. I fully intend to make good on all my debts when I can but first I need to go to work overseas and work private non-military security, and get as fat ass paycheck and get the mother fucking hell of this stupid disability, the worst mistake I ever made, going on it in the first place, forever putting my fucking credibility down the mother fucking ass toilet, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Poison in the sky has made me cough and sneeze, have a nasty sore Grant Avenue Copyrighted throat, and many other flu-like symptoms. Elect you Donnie? Are you serious my friend. I might have a dry throat from CHEMTRAILS, and magic tricks out the ass, but I really do not think America wants to entrust the top dog job to a dude who believes I can physically travel in time, because of a lousy song I sent early in 1981 to the US © Office. You are a total buffoon my friend, but should you get close; then I will be forced to send to the entire press, total proof, that you did several things to me; and that you personally believe this silliness about me. IT IS ALL PARLOR TRICKS, you need to talk to Patty Jane, bud!!! I think you convinced my daughter this nonsense,m and it is not like her to believe in silly nonsense. My car might get up to 110 on the highway if the wind is not against me, that is miles per hour, not second. Time is moving very fast. To equal it so that it would appear to be standing still, you need to catch time at about 186,282 miles per second. To make it reverse back behind you, you need to get up around 34 billion, seven hundred million miles per second. IT WAS ALL A TRICK, DUMB-DUMB, learn to laugh, take a lesson from another tower crook, and don't both ride the same elevator without first checking out the weight capacity. You really do not think I know some stuff, this amazes me. I have lots of spare time on my hands, and necessity is indeed the biological mother of invention. See if Richard Marcucci agrees with that one, Donnie boy, and watch the wind.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM----NO----I do not need to keep doing that. Sooner or later, just as love will get us all, or so says the great RIAA, so will Maggie. It will definitely only tolerate so much evil shit done to me, and then one day while you all sleep and party or whatever you may be doing, BING-BANG-BOOM, and good night to the fucking nurses, right John McDowell Onechance????????????BYE-BYE butt-wipes of America, & say hello to the meteors soon.
One more thing I will say folks. I despise certain peeps who have injured me and my peeps very badly. Most people would have murdered them by now, but NOBODY is worth going to jail over, and if your dam ego can tolerate this, not even you, MISTER TOWERWIGGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END OF BLOG:
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
START BLOG:
In my discussions of this nightmare that I have been going through with the PARALLEL EVENT and the evil vile filthy monstrous WOMO, I have not recently told how a lot more than just the DOW JONES STOCKS, are part of this. So are the PHILADELPHIA SPORTS TEAMS, and it is all blogged about, all through many blogs in 2007, 2008, 2009, and 2010. HURTING ME via persecution and constant continual covert harassment, causes the following parallel events to happen, way beyond any normal odds of non propensity.
DOW JONES STOCK MARKETS GO UP.
PHILADELPHIA FLYERS WIN.
PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES LOSE.
PHILADELPHIA EAGLES LOSE.
PHILADELPHIA 76ERS LOSE.
When I am left alone by the WOMO-ENEMY, or when things go good for me in any way, then the reverse goes on a preponderance for occurrence. This means that when things get better for me that the:
DOW JONES STOCK MARKETS GO DOWN.
PHILADELPHIA FLYERS LOSE.
PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES WIN.
PHILADELPHIA EAGLES WIN.
PHILADELPHIA 76ERS WIN.
The nightmare around me is 99% wrapped up in the paragraph above. The dirt bag cheating FLYERS won back to back games, tonight and last night, and all because of this death siege on me that is worse than anything I have seen in perhaps my entire life, as I am thinking seriously of committing suicide every minute of the day. That is one way to know you are not imaging how mother fucking bad things are against you, believe me folks. Also, last night, the EAGLES were destroyed. FLYERS WIN/WIN, and EAGLES LOSE; and the stock market was up thousands of points last week. ALL OF THIS WAS SAID AND TOTALLY PREDICTED BY ME, AM I RIGHT OR NOT, GIANT GINA; MY LOVELY ARM BREAKER OF THE NINETEEN-NINETIES? Just as you said to me many times when we arm wrestled and you said you would pin me within a second or two, and after you slammed me down, you giant beautiful goddess you, “TOLD YOU”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WELL GINA, NOW I WILL TELL MY BLOGAUD (Blogging Audience). Yes folks, TOLD-UUUU this would all happen. This is the helliday-holiday, and the worst one I get as far as this annual siege is concerned, or THANKSGIVING. The Holiday may be officially over, but shit with this disease against me, begins ahead of the great THURSDAY each year; and it sure as fucking bullshit hell-fire goes beyond this day as well. My WOMO enemy loves to attack my innocent and pathetic little miserable fucking life on EVERY SINGLE FUCKING HOLIDAY HELLIDAY. For new readers, 'WOMO' stands for, WORLD OWNER MILITUFORCE OTAMMITES.
WOMO enemies have 'magically' broken my equalizer on my stereo. This is how THIS DIRT FILTH got their way with all of this, PROPERTY DAMAGE causes major EVIL EMPIRE as listed above with the various parallel event situations, or ICPE WEAPONRY. Merging both damaging my property with all of the other persecutions, noise, aerial, PAWM-PIE-ETTOS, or making people at work, as well as, all around my interaction; nasty with me, and hate me for no reason whatsoever. The list is endless, but you get the general drift of this lesson, hopefully, and whether you believe me or not is not important, or even read it, as getting it out to the world ELECTRONICALLY, is the power that really counts behind this, nothing else, YO. I know that MAGNESONIC is one and the same thing with me placing these words on blog websites, and it will only tolerate so much unfair hell perpetrated on me, and finally and eventually, gigantic earthquakes will rip shit apart all over the world, along with volcanoes spewing death and ash all over, tidal waves, storms, droughts, and all manner of retaliatory strikes against this EVIL EMPIRE.
On top of the property damage, these jerk offs next door blasted their music most of the day today. This is all something that began right after the computer key-worm virus somehow ended, and I no longer get my clock changed back to Pacific Time, or my IP-address turned to an address on 36th Avenue in San Mateo, California. This all stopped a couple months ago, and never resumed. Then Ann to0ld me it all happened the same time that Ding-man was put in the doghouse for cheating on MC with his Nickelodeon Nicky-teens. This all times out together with my being taken into an office and given lots of crazy shit, and told I could no longer talk to the parent-child counselor from 2:15-2:30 PM-EST on Wednesdays. I never started this, it was forced on me by a lady at the harvest named Linda. She twisted my arm to talk to him. Remember folks, things are always done to me, then it is always my fucking fault, I should be totally fucking used to this by now, but I cannot get used to unfair treatment despite having it applied against me for precisely 57 years, as this is my birthday today, 12/04. Still, if this was the only weird wild thing that happened in 2011 or in any other prior year as well, for that fucking matter; I would give an arm, a leg, an eye, an ear, and all of my rotting teeth. Dawn was struck with that old TOOTHACHE-MAJOR button, just as I am, back at the two residences where they had me kidnapped under Stockholm Syndrome, and by the way, I swear this is all true and real under all and any legal penalties for perjury and or libel!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Take me to fucking court. As for JC PENNEY, they have, I owe them money and cannot afford to pay it right now and must tell a judge this later this month. I fully intend to make good on all my debts when I can but first I need to go to work overseas and work private non-military security, and get as fat ass paycheck and get the mother fucking hell of this stupid disability, the worst mistake I ever made, going on it in the first place, forever putting my fucking credibility down the mother fucking ass toilet, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Poison in the sky has made me cough and sneeze, have a nasty sore Grant Avenue Copyrighted throat, and many other flu-like symptoms. Elect you Donnie? Are you serious my friend. I might have a dry throat from CHEMTRAILS, and magic tricks out the ass, but I really do not think America wants to entrust the top dog job to a dude who believes I can physically travel in time, because of a lousy song I sent early in 1981 to the US © Office. You are a total buffoon my friend, but should you get close; then I will be forced to send to the entire press, total proof, that you did several things to me; and that you personally believe this silliness about me. IT IS ALL PARLOR TRICKS, you need to talk to Patty Jane, bud!!! I think you convinced my daughter this nonsense,m and it is not like her to believe in silly nonsense. My car might get up to 110 on the highway if the wind is not against me, that is miles per hour, not second. Time is moving very fast. To equal it so that it would appear to be standing still, you need to catch time at about 186,282 miles per second. To make it reverse back behind you, you need to get up around 34 billion, seven hundred million miles per second. IT WAS ALL A TRICK, DUMB-DUMB, learn to laugh, take a lesson from another tower crook, and don't both ride the same elevator without first checking out the weight capacity. You really do not think I know some stuff, this amazes me. I have lots of spare time on my hands, and necessity is indeed the biological mother of invention. See if Richard Marcucci agrees with that one, Donnie boy, and watch the wind.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM----NO----I do not need to keep doing that. Sooner or later, just as love will get us all, or so says the great RIAA, so will Maggie. It will definitely only tolerate so much evil shit done to me, and then one day while you all sleep and party or whatever you may be doing, BING-BANG-BOOM, and good night to the fucking nurses, right John McDowell Onechance????????????BYE-BYE butt-wipes of America, & say hello to the meteors soon.
One more thing I will say folks. I despise certain peeps who have injured me and my peeps very badly. Most people would have murdered them by now, but NOBODY is worth going to jail over, and if your dam ego can tolerate this, not even you, MISTER TOWERWIGGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
END OF BLOG:
Friday, December 2, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0279
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0279
FRIDAY AFTERNOON @ 1:24 PM-EST
DECEMBER SECOND, TWO-THOUSAND-ELEVEN
COPYRIGHTED MOUNTAINPEN BLOGS © 2006-2011
ALL WORDS SPOKEN ON ALL OF MY ENTIRE COLLECTION
OF BLOGS FOR 6-7 YEARS OF TIME NOW, I HEREBY
ABSOLUTELY SWEAR AND AFFIRM, ARE TRUE AND
ACCURATE TO THE VERY BEST OF MY ABILITY, WITH THE
OCASSIONAL LIMITED AMOUNT OF INCLUDED HERESAY
THAT IS TOLD AS HERESAY AND TOLD IS NOT FULLY A
DOCUMENTED FACT, BUT IS STILL A TRUE STATEMENT OF
MY BEING REVEALED CERTAIN INFORMATION, BY
WHATEVER MEANS IS TOLD WAS ITS SOURCE ON THAT
PARTICULAR SAID BLOGGING WORK.
THIS WORK CURRENTLY IS IN A SERIES OF BLOGS CALLED MOUNTAINPEN'S “SAFE JOURNAL”, THIS IS A CHAPTER WITHIN THIS GROUPING, AND THIS IS CHAPTER #0279.
THREE OTHER SUBTITLES THAT 'SAFE JOURNAL' DERIVES OUT OF, ALSO IMNLUDE:
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
MANY BLOGS INCLUDE A N ADDIOTIONAL SUBTITLE THAT DIFFERS FROM THE STANDARD ALL READY THREE LISTED ABOVE. THIS IS THE FOURTH SUBTITLE, AND HAS VARYING NAMES. THIS BLOG HAS NO 4TH SUBTITLE.
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
My mother fucking rotten neighbors are continually disturbing me with many loud noises. After-all, I live in a ghetto housing project, and this is to be expected. Today, around twenty minutes or so shy of one this afternoon, MISTER MONSTER STEREO MAN next door is blaring his horrific music, shaking the walls. The across the hall dude has dozens of friends, a gang of men and women who party around, and obviously love to hang here for a while, many times at all hours, and shout and holler and make all manner of loud sounds for all to hear right outside my thin little wooden door. This went on last night, and is still hot and heavy today. Both of these neighbors are on one hell of a serious roll to be offensive and annoying. They could care totally less whether they disturb other folks, or perhaps, they are doing it intentionally, paid well for their willingness to participate, in making my life miserable. People in this horrible THAT 1970 WASHCLOTH FAMILY or the “K-FAM” for short, are the most likely suspects in my book. I am all ready looking around and plan to move out. My plan is either becoming part of a paid security detail in either Iraq or Afghanistan, or to move to the area of Bismark, North Dakota where the unemployment rate is around two percent, and I can get a security position with overtime, and live in another small trailer park for the 55 and older crowd, somewhere, minimizing the hell of park living. But one way or another, rest mother fucking assured folks, I will survive this shit, MRS. GLORIA GAINER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Every day has been BOTBAR FOR ME now for a while. This particular siege has been real bad since about the twenty-third day of November. The blogs show all this to be quite true and accurate. ALSO, THIS IS THE FUCKING WORST NIGHTMARE THANKSGIVING OR THANX-2-GIVENS SIEGE I HAVE SUFFERED FUCKING THROUGH SINCE MANY MANY FUCKING YEARS NOW, BUT WHY NOT, WHEN 2011 HAS BEEN THE ABSOULUTE QUINTESSENTIAL WORST MOTHER FUCKING YEAR FOR ME, IN ABOUT A MILLIOM CUNT LAPPING MUFF DIVING YEARS NOW?
Diana Zudlecronessia Arteemis, whose name, my computer tried hard to prevent me from printing out on this document, told me and confirmed what I all ready had fully fucking expected was going on, and that is that, WOMO wants me to anger SCYLLA ALL MIGHTY GODDESS, and for me to break my contract with HER, or (covenant). SHE has kept HER end of the bargain that we made out on Vi-Queens Island recently, and if I break my word and tell HER huge secret, it will cost me in ways a lot bigger than suffering through loud noise, or even any and all of the shit and hell that this evil diseased bunch of Otammite's of the Milituforce, could ever do to me, even all combined together. Still, notice how I said something bad last weekend about the high and mighty super megalomaniac and ultra ego-man, Donald J B Trump; and all hell broke loose around me ever since? Remember how whenever D do a real long super power hitting blog like SJ-CH-0269, same thing again? So it is obvious that I am doing some damage. This is shy, I no longer negatively judge those defending their honer and way of life overseas, who drive a car-bomb into a school or a church or area of cappy control oppression and or occupation. Sure on first glance, this deed is both cowardly in its appearance, as well as viciously inhuman. But this is ALL that they CAN DO. We do not allow them to have super computers or nuke weapons, or anything that can fight us on our level, wo what really should we expect their counter-strikes to materialize and manifest as folks? Everything peeps, is how you see it, and this makes the word PERSPECTIVE, just about the most powerful word in the English Dictionary. It is why the word relative is used so often as well. If only the velocity of light in a vacuum, is the constant, and all other things in one way or another, are then relative to this constant, then again, the word 'perspective' becomes instantly brilliant in the dictionary, as to its powerful importance. This leads up to my connecting in these two thoughts now. If all I am able to do, is blog to a few peeps willing to read some of these words, every so often; then that is all I have; or all that I am able to do, to legally counter attack this horrible fucking enemy , for all the wicked and inhuman and unconscionable stuff that it endlessly chooses to perpetuate against my life and me for 20-60 years somewhere around in there.
Let me illustrate here. I am a citizen, and a victim; of this EVIL EMPIRE, that is much more ruthless than the Roman Empire of the times of Jesus Christ; whether or not, any of you ever decide, and choose; to see this giant truth or not. What can I do? I have to follow the law, or I'll be tried in court, found guilty, imprisoned; and lose even more. In fact, this is exactly what the Camden County Prosecutor ADA Ron Wirtz told me all throughout the early and the middle nineteen-nineties, and he did know quite a lot about my story an my persecution, and had met my mother, my pal David Roth, as well as myself, the original meeting on the afternoon of the 5th day of December, in 1989, one day after my 35th fucking birthday, while I was residing at Robin Hill Apartments, in Voorhees Township, New Jersey, USAESMWG, Apartment #1102, or my PCN + Donald Trump's PCN.
What peeps do not know is that I used to love the entire smack. I traded stocks, speculated in commodity futures, T-Bills, T-Bonds, you name it and I played it. I did all sorts of things. I tried jobs, schools, careers, relationships, all the things that you take for granted, and think I am merely to fucking mentally ill to be handle to properly handle, and you b judge me, and you have things just about as backwards as it can get without entering and surviving a wormhole experience and entering into an antimatter world where time would be running in a reverse direction, and would be the same second it was on the other side when you step out beyond the event horizon, only now you can see it all redoing itself. This is how many have blatantly chosen to believe things about me. You have it all wrong and backwards. There is nothing any more wrong with me than with any of you. Some of you are better, some of you are not as good, and we all have this situation, just as we all have more talent in one thing or another, and also, less talent in something else here or there. I am no different than any of you, no matter how far out any of these words and blogs may appear to you. You merely have two misconceptions about all of this. First, you do not know my story, and second, you do not have the time to or the desire to, so you will read a little bit here and there, and say to yourself, WOW, this WILD NUTCASE must have just escaped from the banana bin, on top of this, he must have been their leader. Then you never have the smallest desire or inclination to study or take one bit seriously, a few simple facts that do not require lots of your time or serious study. You do not need to go to school and get a degree in Quantum Mechanics, it would help a lot, but it is not needed here, some real simple logic would suffice, just as Star Trek's Mister Spock would say it so well in the 1986 whales movie, when it came to the seemingly insurmountable task of locating George and Gracie, the two Humpback whales that they needed to find. Why not ask questions like, would anyone sane enough to be able to get to a computer, and live on his own, and operate in this messed up bad economy rotten society, and make these incredible and surreal sounding blogs that are claimed to be nonfiction events, and totally the truth, not have some merit, and why if he as he claims, if not being stopped and literally prevented asnd interfered with, will nobody ever anywhere take the remotest chance of believing all this, and trying to help, after-all, say my biggest commentor's that call me the ranter such as on the UM website, randomly choosing the nice lovely person who said whey did after my blogs ended on this “UM” web-blogger-site, after I told a nightmare hell about abuse and neglect, and my having to give up all I had in the world and run for my life, scared and alone, and look what this piece of human disease said to me. If this is rational, this and locking me up for crying at a police station on Route 73 in Blue Anchor, Winslow Township, New Jersey back early in the winter of 2000, and on and on we can go with hundreds of painful examples every bit as big and nasty as these; yet there is no rational reason or rhyme to treat anybody this inhumanly, UNLESS OF COURSE, SOMETHING BIGGER THAN THE MOON ITSELF, IS BEING COVERED UP AND PROTECTED, BY THESE WORLD FUCKING AUTHORITIES, it just leaves no other possibility here, Elizabeth and Darren and Agnes Moorehead.
People's reactions when they stray and deviate too far away from the so-called established norms, tell the story of truth, without any further details being needed at all. When I tried to talk to folks in a very calm, rational, nice, quiet way; in Atlantic City, NJUSAESMWG, back in 1997; they acted as though I was 'ONTO THEM' and 'ONTO SOMETHING'. It was right out of a television show where this kind of thing is the plot in the movie, and it is a really good movie, and all movie goers and basic EW-FABNS know exactly what I am talking about. The same thing happened to my friend David and myself, the previous year; in a town in Pennsylvania, known as Carlisle; a short drive to the west of Harrisburg.
A normal person of normal intelligence, knows fully well, when they are doing nothing wrong, and all hell just jumps out at them and against them. This is what has happened to me now on TYHREE HUGE FUCKING OCCASIONS, folks. I NEED NO PERSONAL INVITE TO THE WHITE HOUSE OR PRIVATE TALK WITH THE PRESIDENT, to tell me this is all real and true, and a nightmare beyond totally monstrous. I would much rather have Collinwood Manor come to life, and die a horrendous and ghoulish death there at the hands of all the characters they could ever have imagined, than to have suffered through the Stanley mess that I find myself in now, and have been in basically all throughout my entire life, worsened in several exact stages, one when Jim Burr told me that Satan was destroying my life and I thought he was a total nutcase at the time, then again when my dad came back after being away from age 9-19, diving on the Treasure Coast where I bow have come to reside; then again in the nineteen eighties, and then in the nineties, when I just had to find the great SARAH, or ELSE; out of the blue, one day!!
Well, there was no way in hell to ever find Sarah, because Sarah was not who or what I thought she had been. This led me onto a path from thinking I was pretty fucking enlightened, into real honest major enlightened thoughts and attitudes about the all-ness of the cosmic reality. When I saw the TV show the other night about the show called STAR TREK, it was clear to my level of KNOWINGNESS, that these great peeps behind it, even great wonderful Gene himself, were all doing no more than opening themselves up, and channeling, and permitting higher truth and higher concepts, to make contact with their lower 90% conscious mind system. This is how STAR TREK came to be, and lots of other great, and well, no so great things such as Hitler and Hell, also came into the carbon-biological condition.
Still, there really is a future, only it is so many of them, you could not keep up with it, and would go mad in seconds if I could force what I know on you in an instant. There are various ways of interacting with 45th dimensional particles, and she is only too anxious for humankind to realize it and move into this new age, for real, not this silly 21st century nonsense, as compared to what I know, it is apes making dumb grunt noises, sorry Selena and daughter. There really is solid helium, and a world made up of objects that are constructed to weigh whatever we want them to, going from 1X10 +100th-G down to 1X10 -100th-G. Solid helium or compressed boxium in a universe I have visited, is a wild place. I live there in the year 2074. My name is Joseph, I go by JOJO, me and nicknames, you know. My car is 26 feet long and 7 feet wide, the entire front to back in a bubble that at the center is 65 inches high, an interesting amount of inches. It weighs about 7 pounds when in motion, and when parked, about 1000 times more. My brakes do not lock wheels, they change the car to weigh a million times more than its mobile-7 for several seconds. There is a lot more to tell, only telling it will cause me to die today. I will however, Maria and Arnold Kennedy, most definitely, ******BE BACH******, and that you CAN most certainly believe.
I will say, the enemy WOMO woke me up with loud music attack, and a major health attack, a terrific nasty mother fucking sore throat. Fortunately, I found a cure for that, and it sure ain't a fucking apple!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ENDING OF THIS TRANSMISSION:
FRIDAY AFTERNOON @ 1:24 PM-EST
DECEMBER SECOND, TWO-THOUSAND-ELEVEN
COPYRIGHTED MOUNTAINPEN BLOGS © 2006-2011
ALL WORDS SPOKEN ON ALL OF MY ENTIRE COLLECTION
OF BLOGS FOR 6-7 YEARS OF TIME NOW, I HEREBY
ABSOLUTELY SWEAR AND AFFIRM, ARE TRUE AND
ACCURATE TO THE VERY BEST OF MY ABILITY, WITH THE
OCASSIONAL LIMITED AMOUNT OF INCLUDED HERESAY
THAT IS TOLD AS HERESAY AND TOLD IS NOT FULLY A
DOCUMENTED FACT, BUT IS STILL A TRUE STATEMENT OF
MY BEING REVEALED CERTAIN INFORMATION, BY
WHATEVER MEANS IS TOLD WAS ITS SOURCE ON THAT
PARTICULAR SAID BLOGGING WORK.
THIS WORK CURRENTLY IS IN A SERIES OF BLOGS CALLED MOUNTAINPEN'S “SAFE JOURNAL”, THIS IS A CHAPTER WITHIN THIS GROUPING, AND THIS IS CHAPTER #0279.
THREE OTHER SUBTITLES THAT 'SAFE JOURNAL' DERIVES OUT OF, ALSO IMNLUDE:
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME
MANY BLOGS INCLUDE A N ADDIOTIONAL SUBTITLE THAT DIFFERS FROM THE STANDARD ALL READY THREE LISTED ABOVE. THIS IS THE FOURTH SUBTITLE, AND HAS VARYING NAMES. THIS BLOG HAS NO 4TH SUBTITLE.
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
My mother fucking rotten neighbors are continually disturbing me with many loud noises. After-all, I live in a ghetto housing project, and this is to be expected. Today, around twenty minutes or so shy of one this afternoon, MISTER MONSTER STEREO MAN next door is blaring his horrific music, shaking the walls. The across the hall dude has dozens of friends, a gang of men and women who party around, and obviously love to hang here for a while, many times at all hours, and shout and holler and make all manner of loud sounds for all to hear right outside my thin little wooden door. This went on last night, and is still hot and heavy today. Both of these neighbors are on one hell of a serious roll to be offensive and annoying. They could care totally less whether they disturb other folks, or perhaps, they are doing it intentionally, paid well for their willingness to participate, in making my life miserable. People in this horrible THAT 1970 WASHCLOTH FAMILY or the “K-FAM” for short, are the most likely suspects in my book. I am all ready looking around and plan to move out. My plan is either becoming part of a paid security detail in either Iraq or Afghanistan, or to move to the area of Bismark, North Dakota where the unemployment rate is around two percent, and I can get a security position with overtime, and live in another small trailer park for the 55 and older crowd, somewhere, minimizing the hell of park living. But one way or another, rest mother fucking assured folks, I will survive this shit, MRS. GLORIA GAINER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Every day has been BOTBAR FOR ME now for a while. This particular siege has been real bad since about the twenty-third day of November. The blogs show all this to be quite true and accurate. ALSO, THIS IS THE FUCKING WORST NIGHTMARE THANKSGIVING OR THANX-2-GIVENS SIEGE I HAVE SUFFERED FUCKING THROUGH SINCE MANY MANY FUCKING YEARS NOW, BUT WHY NOT, WHEN 2011 HAS BEEN THE ABSOULUTE QUINTESSENTIAL WORST MOTHER FUCKING YEAR FOR ME, IN ABOUT A MILLIOM CUNT LAPPING MUFF DIVING YEARS NOW?
Diana Zudlecronessia Arteemis, whose name, my computer tried hard to prevent me from printing out on this document, told me and confirmed what I all ready had fully fucking expected was going on, and that is that, WOMO wants me to anger SCYLLA ALL MIGHTY GODDESS, and for me to break my contract with HER, or (covenant). SHE has kept HER end of the bargain that we made out on Vi-Queens Island recently, and if I break my word and tell HER huge secret, it will cost me in ways a lot bigger than suffering through loud noise, or even any and all of the shit and hell that this evil diseased bunch of Otammite's of the Milituforce, could ever do to me, even all combined together. Still, notice how I said something bad last weekend about the high and mighty super megalomaniac and ultra ego-man, Donald J B Trump; and all hell broke loose around me ever since? Remember how whenever D do a real long super power hitting blog like SJ-CH-0269, same thing again? So it is obvious that I am doing some damage. This is shy, I no longer negatively judge those defending their honer and way of life overseas, who drive a car-bomb into a school or a church or area of cappy control oppression and or occupation. Sure on first glance, this deed is both cowardly in its appearance, as well as viciously inhuman. But this is ALL that they CAN DO. We do not allow them to have super computers or nuke weapons, or anything that can fight us on our level, wo what really should we expect their counter-strikes to materialize and manifest as folks? Everything peeps, is how you see it, and this makes the word PERSPECTIVE, just about the most powerful word in the English Dictionary. It is why the word relative is used so often as well. If only the velocity of light in a vacuum, is the constant, and all other things in one way or another, are then relative to this constant, then again, the word 'perspective' becomes instantly brilliant in the dictionary, as to its powerful importance. This leads up to my connecting in these two thoughts now. If all I am able to do, is blog to a few peeps willing to read some of these words, every so often; then that is all I have; or all that I am able to do, to legally counter attack this horrible fucking enemy , for all the wicked and inhuman and unconscionable stuff that it endlessly chooses to perpetuate against my life and me for 20-60 years somewhere around in there.
Let me illustrate here. I am a citizen, and a victim; of this EVIL EMPIRE, that is much more ruthless than the Roman Empire of the times of Jesus Christ; whether or not, any of you ever decide, and choose; to see this giant truth or not. What can I do? I have to follow the law, or I'll be tried in court, found guilty, imprisoned; and lose even more. In fact, this is exactly what the Camden County Prosecutor ADA Ron Wirtz told me all throughout the early and the middle nineteen-nineties, and he did know quite a lot about my story an my persecution, and had met my mother, my pal David Roth, as well as myself, the original meeting on the afternoon of the 5th day of December, in 1989, one day after my 35th fucking birthday, while I was residing at Robin Hill Apartments, in Voorhees Township, New Jersey, USAESMWG, Apartment #1102, or my PCN + Donald Trump's PCN.
What peeps do not know is that I used to love the entire smack. I traded stocks, speculated in commodity futures, T-Bills, T-Bonds, you name it and I played it. I did all sorts of things. I tried jobs, schools, careers, relationships, all the things that you take for granted, and think I am merely to fucking mentally ill to be handle to properly handle, and you b judge me, and you have things just about as backwards as it can get without entering and surviving a wormhole experience and entering into an antimatter world where time would be running in a reverse direction, and would be the same second it was on the other side when you step out beyond the event horizon, only now you can see it all redoing itself. This is how many have blatantly chosen to believe things about me. You have it all wrong and backwards. There is nothing any more wrong with me than with any of you. Some of you are better, some of you are not as good, and we all have this situation, just as we all have more talent in one thing or another, and also, less talent in something else here or there. I am no different than any of you, no matter how far out any of these words and blogs may appear to you. You merely have two misconceptions about all of this. First, you do not know my story, and second, you do not have the time to or the desire to, so you will read a little bit here and there, and say to yourself, WOW, this WILD NUTCASE must have just escaped from the banana bin, on top of this, he must have been their leader. Then you never have the smallest desire or inclination to study or take one bit seriously, a few simple facts that do not require lots of your time or serious study. You do not need to go to school and get a degree in Quantum Mechanics, it would help a lot, but it is not needed here, some real simple logic would suffice, just as Star Trek's Mister Spock would say it so well in the 1986 whales movie, when it came to the seemingly insurmountable task of locating George and Gracie, the two Humpback whales that they needed to find. Why not ask questions like, would anyone sane enough to be able to get to a computer, and live on his own, and operate in this messed up bad economy rotten society, and make these incredible and surreal sounding blogs that are claimed to be nonfiction events, and totally the truth, not have some merit, and why if he as he claims, if not being stopped and literally prevented asnd interfered with, will nobody ever anywhere take the remotest chance of believing all this, and trying to help, after-all, say my biggest commentor's that call me the ranter such as on the UM website, randomly choosing the nice lovely person who said whey did after my blogs ended on this “UM” web-blogger-site, after I told a nightmare hell about abuse and neglect, and my having to give up all I had in the world and run for my life, scared and alone, and look what this piece of human disease said to me. If this is rational, this and locking me up for crying at a police station on Route 73 in Blue Anchor, Winslow Township, New Jersey back early in the winter of 2000, and on and on we can go with hundreds of painful examples every bit as big and nasty as these; yet there is no rational reason or rhyme to treat anybody this inhumanly, UNLESS OF COURSE, SOMETHING BIGGER THAN THE MOON ITSELF, IS BEING COVERED UP AND PROTECTED, BY THESE WORLD FUCKING AUTHORITIES, it just leaves no other possibility here, Elizabeth and Darren and Agnes Moorehead.
People's reactions when they stray and deviate too far away from the so-called established norms, tell the story of truth, without any further details being needed at all. When I tried to talk to folks in a very calm, rational, nice, quiet way; in Atlantic City, NJUSAESMWG, back in 1997; they acted as though I was 'ONTO THEM' and 'ONTO SOMETHING'. It was right out of a television show where this kind of thing is the plot in the movie, and it is a really good movie, and all movie goers and basic EW-FABNS know exactly what I am talking about. The same thing happened to my friend David and myself, the previous year; in a town in Pennsylvania, known as Carlisle; a short drive to the west of Harrisburg.
A normal person of normal intelligence, knows fully well, when they are doing nothing wrong, and all hell just jumps out at them and against them. This is what has happened to me now on TYHREE HUGE FUCKING OCCASIONS, folks. I NEED NO PERSONAL INVITE TO THE WHITE HOUSE OR PRIVATE TALK WITH THE PRESIDENT, to tell me this is all real and true, and a nightmare beyond totally monstrous. I would much rather have Collinwood Manor come to life, and die a horrendous and ghoulish death there at the hands of all the characters they could ever have imagined, than to have suffered through the Stanley mess that I find myself in now, and have been in basically all throughout my entire life, worsened in several exact stages, one when Jim Burr told me that Satan was destroying my life and I thought he was a total nutcase at the time, then again when my dad came back after being away from age 9-19, diving on the Treasure Coast where I bow have come to reside; then again in the nineteen eighties, and then in the nineties, when I just had to find the great SARAH, or ELSE; out of the blue, one day!!
Well, there was no way in hell to ever find Sarah, because Sarah was not who or what I thought she had been. This led me onto a path from thinking I was pretty fucking enlightened, into real honest major enlightened thoughts and attitudes about the all-ness of the cosmic reality. When I saw the TV show the other night about the show called STAR TREK, it was clear to my level of KNOWINGNESS, that these great peeps behind it, even great wonderful Gene himself, were all doing no more than opening themselves up, and channeling, and permitting higher truth and higher concepts, to make contact with their lower 90% conscious mind system. This is how STAR TREK came to be, and lots of other great, and well, no so great things such as Hitler and Hell, also came into the carbon-biological condition.
Still, there really is a future, only it is so many of them, you could not keep up with it, and would go mad in seconds if I could force what I know on you in an instant. There are various ways of interacting with 45th dimensional particles, and she is only too anxious for humankind to realize it and move into this new age, for real, not this silly 21st century nonsense, as compared to what I know, it is apes making dumb grunt noises, sorry Selena and daughter. There really is solid helium, and a world made up of objects that are constructed to weigh whatever we want them to, going from 1X10 +100th-G down to 1X10 -100th-G. Solid helium or compressed boxium in a universe I have visited, is a wild place. I live there in the year 2074. My name is Joseph, I go by JOJO, me and nicknames, you know. My car is 26 feet long and 7 feet wide, the entire front to back in a bubble that at the center is 65 inches high, an interesting amount of inches. It weighs about 7 pounds when in motion, and when parked, about 1000 times more. My brakes do not lock wheels, they change the car to weigh a million times more than its mobile-7 for several seconds. There is a lot more to tell, only telling it will cause me to die today. I will however, Maria and Arnold Kennedy, most definitely, ******BE BACH******, and that you CAN most certainly believe.
I will say, the enemy WOMO woke me up with loud music attack, and a major health attack, a terrific nasty mother fucking sore throat. Fortunately, I found a cure for that, and it sure ain't a fucking apple!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ENDING OF THIS TRANSMISSION:
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