KING NEBNOOSHOO SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0351

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0351

SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY

START OF 'WHATEVER', CONG. RA:

This CHEMTRAIL SIEGE will not back off, and it just about the worst one ever since this nightmare began around me at the American Honda Plant on Gaither road, in Mount Laurel, New Jersey, USAESMWG, in December of 1987.

It is the afternoon of Sunday the fucking fourth of March. March is normally a bad month, but the first four months of the years are normally the worse for me, in areas I have lived in over the past nearly 60 years, being Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Florida.

Once upon as time, if I got up on the YOU-TUBE and viewed a bunch of 'CHEMTRAIL' videos and made comments and told stories on them to my fellow sufferers of this nightmare, it would stop literally overnight at least in my area, always to return of course, eventually, but it always stopped. This however seemed to stop about six weeks or so ago give or take. Now I can go up there and yell CHEMTRAIL and tell my personal story and tell folks to Google up my blogs, THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, and hear the truths about this horrendous monster hell, but it does not stop, it just propagates a sort of arrogant worsening of the attack, and in any event it just will not relent in this filthy nightmare year of 2012. It is nothing I have seen before folks. Also it is based on how weak they have all ready made us, physically naturally, but in addition, and in a group area throughout all of the local various control experiments that are conducted by this extremely secret global air force system, (GAFS), but yes, the spiritual and basic overall mood depression that it also causes, are all factors to be considered with this hellish crap done against billions of citizens worldwide. One secret I do know is that it all connects the mighty and evil demonic WALL STREET of America's Manhattan. Given certain DNA, different things physically happen as well. I've not experienced this daily nasty cramping and diareah attack every day just about for many weeks, since the late eighties and throughout the nineteen-nineties. My irregular heartbeat and arrhythmia's are also back, caused by these filthy rotten jet poisoning attacks that just will not fucking relent. If anything happens to me, I was murdered by this horrible unspeakable abominable CHEMTRAIL ASSAULT SIEGE on me in 2012, peeps. This is no joke. Do you really think I'd post a song on the YOU-TUBE the other day like 'CHEMTRAILS OF 1987', if this was not fucking deadly ass serious, effecting myself, and also the entire world. I have said all along in my 6+ year blogging career now that if this can all happen to me, it certainly cannot be just about me, and that you and all of your offspring are also in major frightening ass danger as well. In my case, air attack began in 1986. It began getting bad when the 177^th Airborne Division of the USAF declared war on me for going to the New Jersey Casinos and making continuous money week after week, playing Roulette, with the almost magical system of using applied Parallel-Event or for short, using the APE against the casinos. Then it worsened after I told my pal David Roth about the great Sarah-Stacey Krassle and what she seemingly was all about, also in the spring time in 1986. We instantly came out of a diner where this was told to him while we shared a dinner, and we were set upon by local Evesham Township or Medford Township Police, off duty, with guns and dogs, the persecution was blatant, and for no reason, and my mother was refused so much as a small apology later that evening when she called the house to complain about the matter and was told that her son and his friend happened to just be at the wrong place at the wrong time. This all slowly led up to David and me making an appointment with the Camden County Prosecutor on the 5^th day in December in 1989, leading to the soon to follow television show, and the greatest law show to ever pass this worldly way may I add, “LAW & ORDER”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still a 3^rd and final catalyst was all mixed up in things in the 1986 year, and this was right after I made the trip with David over to the Big Apple, and ran into a daughter that I would not come to learn was my daughter for another 22 years while a major plan was being executed with me, and began by my meeting a neighbor of her cousins in a rooming-house owned by a Hammonton, New Jersey judge, named Frank Raso. The story is ten times wilder than any James Patterson book you can get your hands on, and this is because it is true, and truth is always much stranger than freaking fiction. How many times do you read stuff in fiction where a dozen of female recording artists all connect together by random chance, or is it? How may times do you read about stories such as going to a job and strangers pulling up in their car, blasting certain disco music at you with their car stereo, and saying word for word stuff to you that you had just said in the privacy of your own home with pees in there, that they should have no way of possibly knowing about, and they spout off a direct quotation, such as that night where this butt wipe told me, “Your pants don't go all the way down to your shoes”, and it was pitch dark, and there was no way that he could see this from his vantage point inside of his car.

When I first moved here, I had a pretty harmless dude across the hallway from me, he did play his music and television on the loud side but nothing like Mister Subs next door when he gets going. He did not slam in and out for hours and hours, or entertain huge crowds of folks all the freaking time. I move in here, he shortly goes the way of the winds, and in comes these total fuck head whackadoodles. This however is not a new phenomenon with me, and has been ongoing ever since as far back as I can clearly mother fucking remember.

When I got up earlier today, the sky was totally CHEMTRAIL FILLED, both with new as well as dissipated old messes of CHEMTRAIL POISONING. One jet was heading north, going at a total zenith right over my mother fucing building, low and nasty, spreading major poison and making my heart do disco dances and my chest wheeze, and my diareah continue. I know the parallel even and the boom on fucking crooked WALL STEREET is all behind it, as it has been since this all began in late 1987 and then into 1988, never fucking looking back a single second since. It is out of the worst nightmare that 1000 Spielberg, King,. And Patterson could not all collude together to create in a fictional story.

Another new thing is this WOMO ENEMY slime dirt and sub sleaze never kept it up without a break in the string, ever before, if my PUSSY-COMMAND as a result got so incredible, and folks it is off the scales. I am being approached by many many lovely goddesses between 18 and 30, and here I am about two and a half years shy of age sixty, it makes absolutely totally no sense in the so called real world whatsoever. It is pure major parallel event,. And something I have noticed without fail since around the time David and I went to and met ADA Ron Wirtz and Donna Spinosi over at the CCPO, in Camden City and County, in New Hicks Jersey. Also, when Magnesonic counter-strikes via successful electronic production of turning energy into sound, when those sounds are inter-dimensional in nature in one way or another, this normally shuts this persecution of me right down for a series of days, for the very most part, but not this time, as something in 2012 is very ominous abnd different than all of the time before with this problem when it all began in 1986 escalating to an unfathomable point on the 15^th of August in this nightmare year of the ax, not the ox, you know, “getting eighty-sixed”, BUT YES, ON THIS DAY I LITERALLY AWOKE INTO A DIFFERENT WORLD THAN THE ONE I HAD LEFT TO GO TO BED IN THE NIGHT BEFORE. The night before, I was with Dave and had a letter to be mailed before driving back home, it was to the United States © Office, and it was a musical project, its title track was named for the song that was included in the album collection group, “REAL GOOD GIRL”. By accident and to be official, I misspelled the project as “Real good girl”, forgetting to capitalize the G in both the words GOOD as well as GIRL. The full story to this is so horrible however and filled with revolting things, that it is unbloggable.

As I speak around ten past four now, these across the hall neighbors are being super fucking annoying, bing bang boom, in and out in and out, like can't you dumb ass holes make up your minds whether to be in your mother fucking apartment or outside of it, DUH?

I will not lie. I am planning to go far away to where this scum cannot hurt me any longer. I plan to copy Count Petoffi of the Dark Shadow hit sixties television show. Still be it Richard Marcucci or andreas Petoffi, I don't want to blow either of their minds, Russell Thaxton, with or without my brand new Chevy trucks. Well while I was employed at the RPLM Sound Studios from late July of 1979 through middle March of 1981, and living at the great room in the sun called 1802 Robin Hill Apartments, I did in fact drive a Chevy, a nice new green Nova automobile. It served me quite well. But then, those days existed in a totally different Bruce Goldberg Hyperspace Reality. Funny old dog life is folks, he writes a great book, I write him and tell him I want to become on of his patients, and I never hear back. Yet David Roth had a writing correspondence with every great female recording artist of the times back in the day, so what wild paintings are hiding in his great Philadelphian closets over on Oakland Avenue in the eighties? I can't get anyone to even send back a letter all my life, except for two Jersey Governor's, I will admit this, but since 1986 when all of the world turned upside down along with Jesus Young and Aron Polanski, I count not get the hocked face girl down the road to answer a letter. Now during air sieges like the one of 3 solid weeks now, things do change on this front. But I am not including supernatural and unexplained paranormal and esoteric stuff here, only regular normal waking word event and situation.

Last night I was in a powerful dreaming interaction where a tidal wave had struck the East Coast of America, and I'd been hurled back into time a short ways to shortly before it struck. I was trying to warn swimmers and peeps all over while they swam around and played on the beach, and soon all began mocking me and laughing at me. Oh well, I do not have any friends sucking weeds at the bottom of any bay, but as you know very well, old pal and Your Eminence Pope B-16, and visitor of the Middle Road area of Blueberryville; the missing story of how Jesus practiced resurrecting peeps began at the same era in his physical life as I first met him as Sarah in Atlantic City, on 10-S-C Avenue. Hopefully, my wonderful human part of Scy, has made sure that no one is down there in those murky frog infested waters. Still this story remains endlessly unbloggable, right Your Em? It only matters that we know.

YES GINA, DID I NOT TELL YOU THAT THE DOW JONES WOULD GO UP 5,000 POINTS BACK IN THE TIME NOT EVEN TWO YEARS BACK WEHEN THEY KILLED MY BLOG DOWN HERE IN FLORIDA, AND FORECED ME INTO BEING ONLY A LITTLE TWEETY-BIRD. IT WAS BARELY TRADING OVER 8,000 FUCKING POINTS, AND AFTRER THEY STARTED FUCKING WITH ME AND NEVER STOPPING, IT HAS NEARLY DOUBLED. Yes I believed in you Mister President, once, but you promised not to help WALL STREET, and you said that they just DON'T GEGT IT, oh they get it all right, and they use their Hitler Tactics on innocents like me, but I had hoped you would not be their friend, and you have disappointed me terribly, sir. GO GO GO GO OCCUPY, you are fighting pure evil empire scum here, and I WISH YOU ALL the LUCK IN THE WORLD, YOU'LL FREAKING NEED IT, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At least when I make a prediction, it FUCKING COMES TO PASS, AND ALWAYS WITHIN ONE OR TWO FREAKING YEARS, BRAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YES GINA, T-- O--L--D ***** Y-O-U. Just as you told me when you went onto brake not my hair, how that hack worked was pretty fucking good, old pal at the FCC, McDowell, no my arm, not my frickin' hair, folks.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMagnesonic, my super machine, all special and general orders, you know exactly what to do to this wickedness around the globe, AND-----------------S---T---O---P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Governor Sam Huntington, 7^th great grand daddy, I sure wish you could hear me and help me, this EVIL EMPIRE that all of you created so beautifully has gone the way of unspeakable WASHINGTON POKLITICS, after-all, the age of consent being 13 years, IF THIS DOES NOT TELL THE STORY, ALL THE CHEMTRAIL SONGS OF THE WORLD OR TRAIN TRIP RIDES, SURE WON'T, NOT FROM HERE TO LAKE OKAY-CHOKE-ME, oh Shirley, where is my pal Fred Hinger from the MET, will he ever surface over the freaking radar? Using too much power is like spending too much time in space, we all have a limit to our lifetime exposure to rad-amounts. Playing with time also can kill you, Ding Man, so be carebul, old buddy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Kids need a dad around ass hole, I know this, my dad was off looking for treasure when I needed a dad, so be a man. Stop messing around with magnetics, like the song says, and I should know, I wrote the song, huh Barry?

Well, fuck this evil world, let me close out and relax. I am feeling shitty after 3 straight weeks of being weakened by FILTHY HORRIBLE CHEMTRAILS. This is why I posted my song on the YOU-TUBE about this. Go there and type in “KING NEBNOOSHOO”, and then click the video that reads the title “CHEMTRAILS OF 1987”, YO. TANKS PEEPS. BYE-BYE.

END OF 'WHATEVER' CONG. RA: