SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 162

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 162
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
SUBTITLE 4: “REAL BAD GIRLS”
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295
SEND-BACK-TEXT DATFILE: CH-162-060511.783

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

This was a super BOTBAR day. Things are extremely fucking nasty-ass bad. Terry Egg Harbor Head told me about a SECRET, some years back, and I tried to tell everyone that knew of this thing, that indeed, it is powerful and true, only our concept of its source as is with mostly all things, are all in a reverse mode. For example, Donald Trump, for whatever reason, and we all should know this reason by now as I've told details about this P4E over and over, he wanted to come here from the AP in a special way that violated the Lawtronics in the circuitry of the 7th dimension, and he managed to accomplish this, and he wants great power and material wealth, and is insatiable for fame and admiration, and the laundry list of his ugliness could read on and on. He actually wants, in his unconsciousness, all the things that he possesses. We all, just as the Donald, indeed do get precisely what we really and truly want, and the great secret that was published some years back and made quite a stir round the world, also is brought into being and with the same vigor and force as it is with the great Mister Hairpiece Granddaughterpulloff. It is what we really want that we do get, this is built into the cosmos, lawtronically, but what we think we really want on an awake and conscious-mind level, in many if not most cases, is quite the opposite, or at least a long way off; from what we absolutely want, in our true beingness or in our 'spirit', is another way this might be said and presented. I, for example, came here, loving to endlessly suffer, be totally ass miserable, and be continually punished and picked on by everyone around me, and totally treated like fucking dog shit by life in general, and all of the basic 4 cosmic food groups that make this up, those being the PAWM, or People, Animals, Weather, and Machines, and the things that connect into their realities or that they control or dominate over in various small or large ways in all times during life.

I just received a phone call from my ex-landlord, complaining that I did not leave the place that I left, in a condition that was satisfactory to him. I believe that I left it within the normal-wear-and-tear laws, and he does not, and tells me that if I do not send him one-hundred dollars within fifteen days, he will and I quote, take me to court. All weekend, lots of fire alarms went off, strange ass holes knocking on my door at three in the morning, internet explorer on my computer failing on a regular basis while attempting to view some web-pages, and the list could read on like a who's who in a calorie counting list of Hollywood residents and celebrities, that all are attempting to blow away in the next heavy windstorms of Suffolk County, New York, back in 1975.

I phoned my friend, Ann King Silva, and we had a great 20 minute or so conversation, and she put me back in a good mood. She told me I should let the motherfucking ass hole TAKE ME TO COURT. I offered to pay him the money in 30 days, and he said, 15 days or I'll sue. I will pay this diseased twisted greedy bastard his money, on receipt of his soon to arrive letter, and the check will be my receipt, along with the amount stated on the letter so he cannot try and pull off more con jobs on me. Then, I am contacting Tallahassee, Florida, our State Capitol, and writing to a nice lady by the name of Erica Dangerfield, informing her in motherfucking writing, all of the abuses I took at the hands of April Lee and her adopted ass hole father, Raymond Bailey. All the shit they pulled on fucking me will be reported, documented, and later it can be showed, verified, and proven. This nice lady, Erica, and I spoke a while back; and I went out of my way to give a good reference to her, about April Lee, the social worker, or whatever the fuck she 'really is', who owns the company called, “HELPING INDIVIDUALS, LLC”. The phony hoax organization of so-called charitable good deeds and philanthropy, www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/, is all a part of this crap, and Ann said her lawyers will talk to some Florida lawyers about the illegality of putting my photo up of their website without my knowledge or permission. If these fucking pricks want to play with me, they should know that I have some pretty good fucking connections myself. I may be under the fucking HUNTINGTON CURSE all right my friends, but I still have the power of the Huntington family, as well as Ann's powerful family and friends, behind me, YO.

So why did I come here into this nightmare life and desire a punishment of such major and epic proportions, 24-7-365.2422? Also, why did Kathy, at the great Gathering Place Psychic Shop of Runnemede, New Jersey; also know this, when she said that “I agreed to all of this before ever coming here into this life”?

If you are out here somewhere, MIKE GUTHERMAN, contact me old buddy. I'm in the motherfucking phone book, and if you are not reading this blog on www.blogger.com, then go there first. Tyra Banks will gladly tell you, that I have absolutely nothing to hide, and do not shrink down underneath some phony ass screen name. I give my name, I give real time addresses and phone contacts, and if peeps keep pissing me off, they'll be changing theirs soon as I'll fucking postem' up.

Where are you and your cousin Lester when I need you, old counselor Maryland Mack? As for the other teenaged counselor in 1996, after Kieth's nervous breakdown, why did TOP-DOC Shithead insist on making me run into Sarah-Stacey Krassle Lookalike Bitch? Did he get some sick pleasure out of hurting an all ready persecuted and fucking twisted up pathetic pie4ce of shit like motherfucking me, YO?

MAGNESONIC---- MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. You know what the fucking shit to do, computer, open command G-7.

THIS BLOG NOW TERMINATES TRANSMISSION!!!!!!!!!!!!