SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0319
WORLD LABS DATFILE: 012112.978
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MWM/MWM
© 2006-2012 MORIANITY/MOUNTAINPEN
I SWEAR THESE WORDS ARE ALL TRUE, UNDER OATH.
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
I took two major utility attacks that were after late afternoon or early evening set in. All these utility attacks, can be blamed by three possibilities by rational human thinking. Coincidence and happenstance, Demonic paranormal forces that can be thought of as pertaining to anything of a mystical, religious, or esoteric nature, and finally, the Bohemian Club, an offshoot and integral part of a more famous and publicly known college frat, the Harvard Skull and Bones Society. Right now after seeing a report about the BC on the H-2 Cable Chanel several days back, I am totally leaning towards the BC as those responsible for doing all of this shit to me since august 15th in 1986, and perhaps back to the day that I entered this 5-D 'video-game', on December 4th of 1954, or my DOB. The two utility attacks are old parlor tricks, very little that these twisted fucking scum do to me is at all new, originality with them is a rare and breath taking fucking ass occurrence. The first attack was the blowing of a light bulb around twenty minutes shy of six this evening, PM-EST. I need to buy a package of new bulbs, this sleazy crew of snake slime have cleaned me out of light bulbs with numerous recent attacks since the late autumn, and basically around the very same freaking time that my son in law was put in the dog house. The second attack leading me to do this blog, was the VCR-DVD machine, another oldie but goodie PT (Parlor Trick). You put a VCR in the machine and it is all seemingly ruined and scrambled. You try recording over something with new material, still it's fucking scrambled and unintelligible, way beyond what it would be if just from a dirty head problem. So just as when an audio tape and machine are messed with in a similar RFM attack as discussed on previous near blogging texts, you must then eject the tape that is fucked up, place another tape in the machine, and actually play or record and sometimes both, at least one section on that other tape, then eject it; and then the other original tape just suddenly works totally fine, as though nothing was ever mother fucking wrong with it in the first place; and also as if by sudden Elizabeth 'tinkle-tinkle-tink' nose wiggle fucking magic, Electroluv Copyrights, and other molested children grown and messing with my songs, time itself got restored from some transdimensional controller of ultimate covert power and authority over this world, and maybe the entire cosmos.
Let me tell you all that I do not make shit up for the fucking fun of wasting my time or your time folks. When I say that my song from August of 1986, “RGG” seemed to start this entire nightmare, and contains the PCN-363, remember that there are 81 possible numbers that my song called, “RGG” could be, and at the time I wrote it, I never gave a single thought to what PCN it was, or for that matter, anything else other than did I place a stamp on the envelope sent down to the Washington-13DC © Office, and include the cassette copy that was dubbed from the open reel master tape of the audio project. Now again, 81 may not be a gargantuan number, but still, the odds that both SARAH KRASSLE, as well as BOHEMIAN CLUB both work out to a PCN-363 are now 81-SQ, and this becomes now, a larger 6,561:1 odds against coincidence that this is just happening randomly. This also is where the DOW JONES stock markets, almost to the decimal point number; bottomed out early in 2009, making a near term record time low, since the middle-late nineteen-nineties somewhere. On top of that, when this happened, it was during my horrendous scarey Stockholm Syndrome Kidnapping; where I was held at 65 Middle Road, at the absolute threat of death by fire; by Dawn-Marie King, one of the mighty and deranged wild cousins of the unfathomable outlandish and inconceivable, “THAT-FAMILY OF 1970”, and their many nightmare washcloths. They may have never shot my lungs to pieces with bullets, but the TIMETUBES or CHEMTRAILS did a great job doing it secretly and covertly, with the terror and wickedness of any black operations project that I have ever come into personal contact with in my nearly sixty human years of this nightmare fucking life. Speaking of these chemtrails, a nasty morning attack of them were there to greet me when I was out with my computer guru on the personal business of fighting the evil empire, and attempting to survive the day to day McBraire Struggles of the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE.
Yes, odds of more than 6500 to one exist for believing it is no coincidence, that both SARAH KRASSLE {{{(((“AND”)))}}} BOHEMIAN CLUB work out to the Private-Cosmicoded-Number of 363, as does the title of my 1986 song that altered my life and Planet earth's destiny quite a bit, whether believed by the masses of the population or not, “REAL GOOD GIRL”. My older blogs on the original blogger dot com site with the URL of theansweristheqyuestion, discuss at length on several blogs, how I met David Roth at the Caldor Department Store Number 113 in Woodbury Heights in November of 1985 both working as retail security officers. We later became friends, and one day in the springtime of 1986, we went to eat a dinner at a place called the Medport Diner, in Medford Lakes, New Jersey, on route #70, the same road I'd come to live directly on just a few months ahead in time from that day. We experienced a horrendous attack by the authorities for doing no more than eating, and then going out to my vehicle and having a discussion, as I thought it was time and that I had known David long enough, to trust him with secrets about the strange mystical character from my past, the great “SARAH KRASSLE”, huh MISTER JERRY HEITZMANN, and MOMMY-MARIE????????This was the unofficial beginning that led up to the real kicker that forever changed my life into a nightmare curse defying all rational thought and belief systems in the coming months when august would roll around in the summer. My clearly revealed and told six and a half years of blogging, tells this world that something powerful and awesome and bizarre as all fucking get out, is going on around me, and always has been, but that indeed, the year of 1986 is the absolute KEY, or the pivotal POINT of all the years before as well as after, this one. There simply put folks, is just no getting around this truth, GET THAT? Well, I am not the governor of Florida, and am sorry that the schools were segged up until '82. Congressman Robert Andrews fits into so much more than just what has been discussed so far on these blogs, and lots of peeps all over the planet know it quite well. Still, in a parallel universe, he did help me win the election and indeed, over there, I became the youngest governor on record in the state of Florida. Over here, my seventh grandfather on my mothers Huntington side of this family, was the 18th Governor of Connecticut, and later died in office in 1796, 200 years before his 7th grandson began his powerful quest and search for the elusive butterflies AKA SARAH KRASSLE. One thing I am certain as shit of peeps, and it is that on 10-SC Avenue in Atlantic City, major miracles have occurred over and over, with incredible ass regularity; from the nineteen sixties, straight into the 21st century. There is the hidden body of Jimmy Tires, the appearance of a 'young-Sarah', at least half a dozen times; a strange young female child and later a lovely teen, that was obviously an astrally projected ghost, from an old woman in a psychic trance; upstairs in a small shop in or near the Bolivar Hotel, that she had purchased from the great Estelle 'not Best Foods Bassler' Wolf, TEE-HEE-HEE, McGuire Memory Bad-lighter Outages in both 1997 and again nine years later in 2006; making me forget the name of CALLIO and later making both me and my associate website photographer, MISTER LYNCH, as in Basement Huntington Lee-Laughs, and toaster oven island fires of the original home of my cousin Heinz “sail around the sound non-judge' L&O' Gottwald. How in the name of fucking Christ folks can you expect me to buy into thousands and thousands of these never ending 'coincidences'??????????????????????????????
Many fuck ups on blogs until I learn how to go in and edit and redo these fuck up, love to make me look like a total dick in the mouth fool. You all see what I mean,. Total fuck ups, words put together with clever ass fucking hack attacks from the original Lattisaw Gang, that would literally make Sherlock fucking Holmes scratch his pipe smoking head, YO.
I told Jenny Plageman not to make a god out of the GAWNUM. Well, I still think no one should ever create an idol that replaces the All mighty Sarah Krassle, but let me tell you about a close second, in a pinch. That is Gawky Gaukauk and his great powerful wisdom of numerological truth. It is not based on silly star stuff such as many things are in both numerology as well as astrology. Yes the gravitational fields will have effects on things here on Planet earth, but it is all so miniscule that believing they have that much effect on life, is utter nonsense. Everything works once in a while. GAGA on the other hand, Selena Shoes, works ALL THE FREAKING TIME, YO.
In wrapping this all up, and not taking it home Sally Harner, let me say that a lot of Bohemian Devils have tried to make me vanish and disappear. Bruce the time traveling phone booth Doctor of gold bergs, knows quite well just what I'm talking about and referring to here, peeps.
Diana told me not to do anything about my crazy neighbors. She said to me that plans are in the works for my leaving Florida completely and quite soon, and just to hold on tight, and radiate over with the crooked car crash crooks. Yes, many car crashes were engineered with me, Jack McCoy and dick wolf, and I have been told that you know all about it, and even exactly who did it all to me, both in Sicklerville, New Jersey, as well as in North Hammonton, New Jersey, both back in the mother fucking middle nineteen-nineties, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I have a trillion mother fucking things to tell you all folks, it is all gonna' come out very soon, even if both my kids end up killing me for telling it. Hyperspace does effect its entirety, and is not limited to each part of it in their own unique singularities because we are awake in the brainwave of conscious mind, and we are asleep in the deep delta realms where we all are exploring the other parallels of the hyperspace. If not for the gateway into the entire 5th dimension, called tween-sleeping by some secret labs studying my blogs, as very deep sleep removes our conscious mind from ever accessing the trip memories, and shallow sleep is trance like and not totally trustworthy such as moaning and groaning in pain with a serious injury or a case of influenza timetubes. But even this great dreaming realm is for the vast majority of folks, an arena that is naturally part of cosmos, and they are 'having dreams'. There is a far cry, to quote the great father of the new age, Mister Carlos Castaneda, author of multiple great dream-books; between HAVING DREAMS, and {{{{(((:DREAMING:)))}}}}!! Dreaming is a VERB, not the noun of benignly doing this with no control whatsoever of the entire larger 5th dimensional experience. Once DREAMING is done in 5th and 6th dimensional truth, and you see what is going on, you become like the great EXPLOTRATRON, PAULA KING. In years to come, the ideas presented in the fantastic Castaneda books where groups of dreamers all collude and cooperate on a DREAMING-LEVEL, they learn to take it to even another yet more advanced stage, and this is the stage of the EXPLORATRONIC-SUPERMIND. This is what opened the door in the early twenty-two hundreds, in many parallel realities, so I was told by two quite strange little dudes that seemed to appear in my back seat at Walker and Walter Street,s in Philadelphia, at a job-site I was on in 1988; when I thought I had drowned in the icy cold dark deep Delaware river, and to this very day, cannot swear in a court of law whether I did or not, as this could all be eternal hell for living and rejecting Jesus christ as my personal Lord and savior in a life before that wintry 1988 night at my security site. Still, whatever is happening, I know beyond the shadow of any fucking doubt, that the great Bohemian club knows a lot more about it than I even dare attempt to try and fucking imagine, YO!!!! Well, worrying about this any longer right now would be like either chasing the wind, or my tail, and long ago as King David, I remember how much I loved Sarah Krassle, and how we share eternity together in HER great city, unconsciously of course, as SHE knew if SHE let me remember it on an awake level, I would never have functioned in Her great game here in the way that SHE wanted me to, and folks, SHE VDIOES AND ALWAYS WILL, RULE THIS EMPIRE, get a life Pedigree Dog-food Company, YO. BYE-BYE 4 now, brown KALI-KAL, WHAAAAAAAA.
*******THIS BLOG TERMINATES TRANSMISSION. *******
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