KING NEBNOOSHOO SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0317

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0317

SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY

FRIDAY

START BLOG:

I am under a very heavy mother fucking death siege from the WOMO-MILITUFORCE SYSTEM OF TOTAL FUCKING SDISEASED SCUM BAG SLIME SNAKE CRUD.

I expected this of course, you don't strike their nest where they live as I did earlier, and NIT EXPECT to get major fucking kicked in the twat at C-SQ, YO.

Both nabes kicked in just shy of seven tonight, about 75 minutes ago. Music, hollering, door slamming, once it either one or the other, but more recently it is all set to kick in as a double bubble whammy and thus striking me simultaneously.

THINGS WERE NOT THAT BAD, UNTIL SHORTLY AFTER MY COMPUTER GURU CALLED ME OUT OF THE BLUE, AND LEFT ME A MESSAGE FOR ME TO CALL HER BACK, AS I DID; AND LEFT HER A PHONE TAG MESSAGE IN RETURN. Right now it is quieter, but shit can fucking rekindle anytime, this is an OTAMMIC siege, and it is really one long one that began on the fifteenth day of August in the year of nineteen-eighty-six, and in all fucking honesty peeps, is just totally refusing to even think about ever fucking looking back, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT-FAMILY is somehow all mixed up in this, not because of two weeks before that date in the big city, and no, not because of the song sent to the © Office called, “Real good Girl”, all though this is indeed, Sabrina freaking Collins, where this all did so to speak, really ALL BEGIN TO GROW ROOTS, TONY ZENUN ATIVAN SPACE TIME MIND MIRACLES. Yes folks, I do not know about Trump Scum taking over the beauty contests and wrecking life for me in all the ways he possibly ever could beginning around the time of all the other hellish beginnings, but I do know this fucking ass much my folks: Certain definite “constants” do in fact exist, and beyond any possibly remote shadow of any mother fucking doubt.

This WAR IS WHAT THEY INSIST ON, between this home siege, as well as the one late this afternoon while out on a few short errands, I will give these cunt lapping twat licking sewer slime drinkers all the war they can fucking ass handle, YO. Before I strike back peeps, here is what happened after I went out to my bank to check my checking account balance at the TD local branch over on Route One, here in town. With or without Jason Forrest or Donna Summer permission to say these 'meanings of life', and other so called mother fucking truths my peeps, I left the bank and turned Grant Avenue-95 “LEFT” to head southbound on Route One so that I could drive a couple of blocks, Granny-Clara, over to my local Winn-Dixie food Store, YO. I parked and exited my vehicle, and walked towards the entrance to the store, and that same fighter plane from earlier this week, that has been fucking shadowing and dogging me now since 1986 when this shit all fucking began, came right at me, zenithing my precise position, on a compass heading of approximately South-South-West. I flipped the bastard the bird and I know the diseased prick that continually violates my civil and constitutional rights was flying well low enough and not OVER THE RADAR, to see me, most likely even without the aid of a pair of knocks. Hay after-all folks, Y shouldn't a flying bird be flipped a bird, when fucking with somebody, sober or drink, and on any level of Einstein's Space-Time?????????????????????????????? Later on after finishing up my errands except for the final one of checking my Wells Fargo Checking Account balance, I was driving towards the bank, and the same fighter plane was hovering and stalking me still, flying over Orange Avenue up around 8^th or 9^th street, as I came up on Orange Avenue to stop and the traffic red light, on 7^th street. Well, MIZZ SIMPSON, the rat-tat-football boy is gonna' strike again, so brace up, lovely girl!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Here is some nice juicy revenge.

Do you all know why I lost my mother fucking original blogging website at www.blogger.com/theansweristheqyuestion/ ? My hacker told me to look under a small red brick, and told me where it would be. This was my first errand today. I kicked the brick and then as unobtrusively and invisibly as was humanly possible, pretended to drop my handkerchief while wiping my nose, giving me an excuse to pick it up, along with a small folded up three by six pad page with writing on it in the color of bright green, just like the chair I was slammed into in a recent nightmare. The note reads, and here it is in quote, “The way your enemies stopped your blogs from continuing on your original blogger site was to go up to one of your blogs, then try to sign in with wrong ID and passwords over and over. This closed your account and when you went up shortly there after, you no longer could access it and did not kn ow what you had done wrong. Well, you did nothing wrong, as ALWAYS”. Powerful message, in or out of a bottle. Whoever you are, thank you for working with me, I never would have figured this out, and am going to have to go to federal authorities if I end up with another of my blogging sites shut down. Remember readers, if you read my words on the blogger website, my original blogs and the MORIANITY-PROJECT online all started at the original website given earlier, and now it is www.blogger.com/theansweristheqyuestioncontinues/ as what else could I have done? It was my computer Guru Meagan who helped me do this, and I am awaiting her call back now as I type and post these words.

END BLOG: Let me go [put up my hair in 1,986 pretty curls!!!!!!!!