SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0338
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
WORLD LABS OF 2296
DATE-AND-TIME-FILE: 021712.637
COPYRIGHT 2006-2012 © BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
COPYRIGHT 2006-2012 © MORIANITY-FOUNDATION-2
NO SUBTITLE FOUR
BEGINNING OF THE ILLUSION:
Parlor tricks, illusions, cards, turning over the tops of two, or separating two sets of two, huh Patty, how we both know how cool it is to know a few really great con carny circus pony show tricks, wow aren't we so totally like cool, as our children and their children might be saying right about now, in sarcasm of course, as all kids think old fucks are worthless pieces of shit. I got the freaking low down on this by a powerful L&O counterpart CO, who I had the distinct pleasure and privilege of working a security detail with at a New jersey location known as Cifaloglio back in the middle and late twenty-ohs. “MY”, boom babah boom babah boom boom boom, and so forth, but not in the Gawnum twenty-twelve. Still let us move on with this blog before lottery close, otherwise, we may match another number up here, DUH. The simple truth is peeps who have a dim clue what is being said, is that bored to tears gods are playing a powerful distractingly powerful game that keeps them from dwelling on the hell they are in, called infinite existence. Inside of this game lie infinite amounts of rules and systems, and established parameters, one of these being that they and not us, have the ability to alter the rules in this game at will, to suit them so they can never ever lose, and while we are “it” so to speak, we remain “it” and can never catch our tails that they have attached to our unwitting bodies.
The very second that I posted the last blog up last evening, SJ-#0337, the jerk off next door, began to instantly blare his sub-woofer into my fucking wall. As I type these very walls, a sub-woofer somewhere is starting. Also, in the hall, shit is starting, but that has been ongoing all day today from the ass holes next door, hollering and slamming doors all morning like total fucking butt wipes.
Yes, next week will work fine for our talk PP, but please know that until someone is willing to show me how to work e-mail, I cannot perform this task. I went to a fucking special education school because I have special mind problems. I need rote, and no one is willing to give it to me. Until Satan backs off and allows this, I cannot e-mail you, I ,just do not know how to do it, laugh at me if you want, PI as it might be, but this 'wehtahd' cannot do certain things with ease as others do, I need to be shown how, and I learn slowly. This is how my brain is wired. Then once I do GET IT, then I have the special talent to do a lot more than others think of with it. For example, when I access the internet, I have a flashing rectangular box that tells me I have all sorts of stuff, friend messages and video chats and love messages and on and on. I do not click on these things because I do not know what to do, and everyone thinks I am faking this PP, it really is a fucked up world when nobody will ever believe or even try and understand me, and that is why my blogs are not so filled with wonderful cheery things, my friend. Yes, call next week on any late afternoon, and if you are ever around and want to show me how to work this dam computer, fine, but no one here will help me. I thought I had somebody, and she took my money and got high and won't answer my phone messages, so screw her. Peeps in the building who asked me if she is my daughter, offered to help me, I cannot trust peeps I do not know that might come in and try and do mischief. I have many strange personal problems, all I would need is for someone to get up on this machine and transfer into their cellphones, the wrong digital sample codes, personal address and phone book info, and so forth. Shit can happen, and to me PP, it does happen, you know this old friend.
Now let me move on and tell that for three days, I have been under a nasty fucking WOMO death siege from my wonderful dear darling beautiful warm hearted enemies. SCT GAME laugh time, and cue review with very loud volumes. I will not have to step on Gawky's big black tail however, to tell folks, that I have asked him for answers to why these things are going on with me right now. I am not my mother, and unlike her and her Satanic Hollister solitaire cards that caused her death, as I warned her vehemently that it would; in fact I tried to warn both my mom and David Roth on repeated occasions that their deaths were immanent, and they both chose to ignore me, and they died, but I have learned the magic parlor trick that this cosmos is all here because first it is all inside of us, just as my wonderful kid taught me in her beautiful music, make fun of me all you want to Trump and Resorts, you bastards. This is however, the rerason why cards and randoms can indeed be used to channel answers from cosmos, because you cannot randomly do anything, it all is one gigantic unfathomably humongous sized disguised pattern, it is not random, and cannot be, because to be honestly true random, the entire cosmos would need to contain more space-time-mind than it does, relative to and in ratio with, the combined maximum possible random atomic and sub-atomic potentially possible combinations. The advanced mathematics, robotic or not, proves this truth, and makes it quite real, yes folks, it most assuredly IS-REAL, Goddess's special people all not symbolically withstanding, YO. So let me now allow Gawky Gaukauk, the great cat, to speak. Really, to tell, as I all ready asked GG before I began this blog, I merely now will be transposing the information that is being imparted onto this blog and then posted up onto the great (FWT) or future wireless telegraph, known from time to time as the internet.
Gawky, why I am under this siege? MEOW, 231.
Gawky, why did the neighbor kick in with his boom box crap? MEOW, 484.
I totally know this dirt bag stole my shit that Ann King says she sent to me for Christmas and I never got here at the PHA building in Fort Pierce.
As for everything else, anyone that believes my trip to the CCPO to meet Ron Wirtz and Donna Spinosi for the first time, had nothing to do with the following television show that literally blew any other show ever out of the water both in quality entertainment, pure raw ideas and long running status, take a giant step into pure unadulterated ignorance.
In wrapping up this relatively short blog, for me anyway, I will hear from you next week PP, hope all goes good, bla-bla-bla. Finally, it is time to let out some once believed to be, forever unbloggable stuff about David Roth, and the worst that can happen is another atomic laser copy of me sent back, gee, what else is new folks? Haddonwood, David, Caldor, Atlantic City, magical inventions, and great MY parlor tricks and other secrets of 5th dimensional tape recording, will all be more elaborated upon in the next several blogging texts folks, whaaaaaaaaaa.
END OF THE ILLUSION:
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