KING NEBNOOSHOO SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0342

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0342

SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY BEGIN

BEGIN:

I'm obviously paying for last nights' blog, wow, it's fucking bad!

I AM UNDER A DEATH SIEGE, IT IS EVERY SINGLE DAY, FBI, WHY WON'T YOU TRY AND GET TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS AND HELP A TAX PAYING LEGAL MOTHER FUCKING CITIZEN? YYYYYYYYYY?

My evil sick crude neighbors across the hall have been slamming and shouting all morning, and it is still going on past noon.

I needed to stay home and rest up so I took the day off, but they will not “GIVE ME A MOMENTS PEACE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE”, just as you said in 1988 on the great documentary on the WPIX-CH-11 television station in NYNY, called, “UFO-THE COVER UP”. Strange weird peeps are outside the building, especially after telling Lightning (DIANA) something on the telephone just shy of noon, and it fit together like bacon and eggs, just as the other day when the event happened on the way to my automobile, right after telling a living human on a connected Earthly telephone number , that hypothetically, if I were to say something to you right now, I would most likely be walking outside my building to go to work tomorrow, which now was yesterday, and if you read the previous-880-blog-0341, you know the story. These neighbors are all in a fucking conspiracy. I cannot know if it is all a PAWM-PIE deal with the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL who indeed controls this major powerful astral Plane tool here on on the mortal Earth worlds, PAWM again standing in an abbreviation shortening of the control over (PEOPLE-ANIMALS-WEATHER-MACHINES), and thus how with this power over them, and me as their enemy, then really, what the mother fuck can't they do to hurt me and fuck with me every single rotten ass day of my miserable pathetic life? They also could be real tangible cousins and all part of one family, all living here and paid off by LOCAL CHEATLEY GOVERNMENTS to endlessly and relentlessly ream, pummel, and persecute the living hot fucking shit out of me, anyway Debbie, Manager of the place, if by chance you ever stumble onto these blogs, this is a major civil rights violation, and is reportable, AND I INTEND TO REPORT IT SOMEDAY, so unless super legal issues are what is desired, please tell these pricks to stop this horrendous and monstrous continual fucking behavior, that includes Mister Subwoofs next door, as he messes with me the second I post up as well as start blogging, and how can he even know before hand? In days of old, type writers were loud and if used in an apartment could easily be heard through a door or a wall, but the quiet of the new computer keyboard, means they need to have bought spy equipment that is placed onto a wall and then amplifies sound, illegally letting them hear exactly what goes on in my private mother fucking apartment, agasinst all law, unless of course, it is rubber stamped by my enemies in the CIA/NSA/BFA, etc.

Even though the skies do not appear jet hazed and poisoned today, last night they must have poisoned me, as they woke me up with a nasty ass fucking sore throat, as they do on many an occasion during siege. During this hell siege, I have only been able to get one and a half units ahead on Mariloo Carpenter's mighty roulette system called the MC34RS. Still, to win at all since late last week, during this period of shit, is unfathomable. In my non paper games played once in Atlantic city, I never dared go down to play during these periods of major continued siege. When I did, I would lose my fucking ass along with my shirt, but pussy command would strike like a Roman battlefield death-blow sword attack. I literally, could have had any goddess girl I wanted, and thinking about what I've thrown away in my life just over the past 20 years, let alone 40, and not only does Paul Simon spring into Daughterdale mind here, but Chrodochrome camera songs a million times over and played at levels exceeding fifteen bells of sound pressure freaking level, YO. Keep this shit up WOMO scum filth, as I'll go over to fucking Hutchinson Island and land me a giant super young lady, and your fucking Wall Street will gurgle and wash down the cosmic toilets of New york Shitty at the speed of mind quad-cubed.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM------------Come on Magnesonic, kick the fucking Christ in and wipe out all these diseased pricks that have been hurting me for more than forty fucking years now. Use all general and special orders. Use all technologies. Use the Punishment Sequencing System of the “I” to “D”, and wipe out and obliterate this git bags and their loved ones, or else I will wipe you out. HELP ME ACLU. HELP ME FBI. Where is decency?

Before I close out, let me tell you about patterns and continuation forces. Gravity is both a pattern as well as a force of continuation and laugh if you so desire, but my dad was a personal friend of Albert Einstein a long time ago and they had many great talks in the Princeton Park, near the university there, Mizz Brook Towers. LSS, he told my dad shit that never got published or that was ever made publicly known. I can get into more of this later on. For right now, let us look at my claims of so many of my songs being stolen over the past nearly 45 years now. In other past lives, I have had things stolen, and was misunderstood as well, sort of like today, the difference being that I had a lot of powerful friends that insulated me from my enemies. David Roth knew this, and this is why he intentionally crossed paths with me in this lifetime, at the #113 Caldor department store, on Route 45, in Woodbury Heights in New Jersey, USAESMWG. LSS again, (Long Story Short), many people have no clue that Haddonwood Health club was just my current lifetime of physical fitness when I was a younger man. As Franklin I did many sports and invented windsurfing that you rarely if ever hear about. I also invented small electrostatic balls, big ones, that were wired together, and shot huge lightning bolts across tables. These tables had dead bodies on them that I thought could be back to life again using this magical thing called now by us, 'electricity'-(PCN-231). I had friends of mine as well as a brilliant young doctor, assist me in my attempts to bring back the dead. I learned that electricity could indeed make dead bodies jump and move all around, especially those recently dead, and had people dig up freshly dug graves. Enemies found out about this, and some in Philadelphia started a rumor that I was a mass murderer. Masonic pals of mine took them all, one by one on friendly nice little boat rides, one way rides, on the Boston Harbor. That shut them up. History and Google does not know it all folks, and they never will. They think that there is some Pourterican blood in my family, there is not, only my 3^rd grandmother of great, on my father's family's side, who was a slave daughter in his cotton field somewhere in the Carolina area, and she forced herself on my GGG grandfather one evening. She was very big and tall and strong and beautiful, or so the family diaries told in a book that I was told to read on my 21^st birthday by my mom. Her mother was from Johannesburg in South Africa, and her father who was unfortunate enough to be visiting there at the time, was from some area in Portugal that resembles the lady boss name on the television show that I enjoy so much, “The Mentalist”. I no longer have these books, it all was lost thanks to Dawn and Ann git back fucking king. To hear it told in these diaries, my GGG grandfather was a very small short slight man, and he fought her advances at first, but in very short order, had fallen madly in love with this giant jet black goddess. This is why when I was in my early twenties, I became obsessed with marrying a giant jet black goddess myself, only it never happened. SOSO-WEIN? The story is not about this or other GOOGLE sanitizing and other miss prints, accidental or intentional, it has many families listed quite wrong, I am just one of the crowd, so cry no tears for me peeps. My point however, is that everyone gave the credit and glory to the lovely young writer girl 100 years after I had died as Franklin , for her so called original idea, when she wrote the great book about Frankenstein. Yes Callio Automotive, I thought you might just get that horistorical joke that day over at your shop in Somers Point, when I called to make an appointment for that freaking oil change and gave my name as Frankens. Still, my notes were passed on secretly by surviving enemies who had been friends withb brother Jimmy Tire, and my name Franklin aas you can plainly and unmistakenly see, is where that sweet young thing got her name of FRANKENSTEIN. Here is history you will not get on Google or History Channels one or two, YO.

Think these are powerful stories? I have been in a home right there down the road from the diner in Berlin on the White Horse Pike where you came that day,m oh lovely Jennifer Lopez, only you were not there, elvis Presley was there, in the flesh, alive, and safe from the Callio family and their fierce wrath. They killed Janis, and if the KING had not faked his death with his great impersonator plan, with majior help from his pal Mister Bob Cheatley, TPB, well, let me give this to your individual imaginations. You all think Mike Jacks is gone too. Think about it. This was all a lot of whooey. Dave is not dead either and was great friends with this family. He knew he would be sued and sued and eventually put in jail for fooling with little kids, society won't go for this and don't care how big a fucking rock star you might be. Well enough secrets revealed today. My blog is filled with many things, study it all, it dates back to 2006 on only one site, www.blogger.com/ and the current blog is number two, as a major hack caused a split up of these two blogs.

 ****THIS ENDS****      WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!