SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0387
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
START, LIKE DUH:
Enemies can dish it out, but taking any of their own medicine is an entirely different bowl of mother fucking cunt eating cherries my friends and fiends. Still, this blog will tell some real nasty stuff without my violating a sort of agreement of covert exchanging in DSMSM messages, the last initials stand for MIND SIGNAL MESSAGES, pretty easy for any BOM followers to figure out the first two as a result, dolphins, whales, and fast erase buttons all notwithstanding. The telling of a few little things my peeps won't be in a continued little 'cute-ass' way, to quote the very too late now thank the gods, the awesome Berryville, Dawn-Marie King of Hammonton, New Jersey, USAESMWG. I will tell you all this much however about this wonderful town that did as all good DJ-Huntington's did half a decade or so ago, and HUNG IN THERE, during a nasty forest fire on Route 206. This is a very special location in New Jersey, and also in this entire physical waking world universe. If you want to say I'm fullabulla you have all the right in the world to do just this, I know I'm fucking not however, and that for me, is what freaking ass counts, Richard Russel Marcucci of school hallway half story tellers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
All day long, this giant ugly fat bitch from across the hall in my building, persecuted me, slamming the door so hard, it is only a matter of time now before this crazy bitch breaks it and loses her apartment, but I think some smart mother fucking peeps out here know what is going on, it isn't rocket science, man can I get away from this endless nightmare or not, even when trying to not only see the humor when there is none, but create a little, sensitive are we not, WOMOTAMM????????????????????????????????
There always is and has been, since August the 15th in 1986, the one constant bigger picture in all of this, the EVIL TRILOGY, the DOW JONES, THE FLYERS, and the PHILLIES. Please mother fuckers, don't ask me to explain it to YOUR satisfaction. The blogs of the Mountainpen have indeed told what is going on, and the refusal by anyone out here to accept and or believe the truths printed, is on YOU, not freaking ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will say this. This is the primary color, ALWAYS. It is the red and the blue, from which a million shades of purple can be made in secondary colors, but it will always be at the heart of this problem, and for reasons that have to do with one thing and one thing only, the HUNTINGTON problem/curse/you give it a fucking name folks, it is fine by me. It will not go anywhere, and there is a reason that it won't, and NONE OF YOU ARE GONNA' FUCKING LIKE HEARING THIS, so turn to another blog any time you want and don't think that I'll shed one rotten lousy tear if you do, it is entirely your own business, just as it is to keep on reading from this point on, you won't like it, world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
the reason this all started getting this bad, has to do with me being in a particular family lineage, and it also has to do with me being punished for all the shit that you all are getting away with, and furthermore, it is a nonsensical child's game, and I know, and love, the child. None of this shit tells anything, so I will tell this clearly. When I gambled at Atlantic City in 1986 from the start of March until the end of October, and WON, playing the game called Roulette, and using something given to me by the electron itself, a very highly omniscient-intelligent sub atomic particle, while taking a bath in Williamstown, New Jersey, at the Highview Apartments, on Sicklerville and Kent Roads; this temporarily broke a family-situation that I will call a curse if you don't mind, because I was able to make all the money I wanted, feel independent of employers who treated me like shit and went onto do this after this all fell apart on October the 29th in 1986, and it was not just the money, it was some inner knowing on some innate level of unexplainable mental energies, where I knew I had finally arrived and beaten some kind of a mother fucking life-long monkey that was chained onto my back. The full non abridged and non compressed true story of 1986 would take up a mother fucking ass library floor in a large city, don't fucking die on me Cousin Ruth Huntington Gottwald, oh sorry, you all ready fucking did die in 1976. A little day time Houston Humor from Superman, huh Kenny, as she was a librarian in Manhattan at the Stacks, where she met her hubby, Heinz Gottwald and they went onto marry and eventually move out onto Long Island, and end up at 175 Peninsula Drive in Babylon, with or without the Pharaoh or the Nile River. You know this sick bunch of twisted shit can spend their entire 24-7-365.2422 making fun of my hell life, but let me do one little thing like post up a little Houston Humor from Superman, and wow, THEY COOK YOU AND EAT YOU FOR MOTHER FUCKING DINNER, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Compare my blogs and my words with my blogs and my words, it all makes sense, if you are awake and want to see shit, IT IS ALL FUCKING HERE. If you don't, put plain and simple, I am just a crazy man, period, end of sentence. This is a mirror of quite some time ago, and what an interesting seasonal time of the year for me to observe this and speak about this on a blog, TEE HEEB Lilly Munster. Now I am not going to change what just happened, I want you all to see for yourself, this bullshit, I did not mean to print a B after the word TEE. This is the shit that is somehow all built into the HUNTINGTON CURSE, only it is way more complex than all of the combined computer software on this planet right now. Still a great man walked on the Earth 2000 years ago, and unlike me, had enough sense not to talk about transdimensional hyperspace4, instead he told simple stories that anyone could relate to, and was saying the very same stuff that I am saying and telling. You can say it all beyond college level and be heard by nobody, or you can say it like this.
Comcast Cable can be thought of as the ASTRAL PLANE. It has satellites orbiting the Earth that collects all the data, this can be thought of as the SIXTH DIMENSION. When it reaches the Astral realms, the THOUGHT SIGNALS are broadband, they are too complicated and all consuming to be transmitted down further from there into just one world or channel, so let us say in this example that hyperspace has 1000 universes in it, to sort of match up with present day cable channel amounts, give or take a few. Now all these channels find people that are tuning into them and then they transmit their signals to them. The example breaks apart and is no good after this because nobody is watching only one station, they think they are (being awake) but it is deceptive, as it all is like straws of plastic being jammed quick and hard through a large sponge. The end they poke out of is never going to be directly across from their points of entry, or virtually never. You see my problem, and this is why Jesus only could tell so much of this as well. There is no example to tell what we are all part of, only to the initial part which I have made clear now. Native Americans or the great majority of them, not so much any longer but a while back in history, knew that there was real life here and real life when asleep or dead. But then I get all weird and complex and start talking in many blogs, and use a word called EXPLORATRON. Well, this is a person in a dream, put very simply and colloquially. There honestly are beings ahead of us in linear time illusion, that have mastered the need for physical life on a planet. They create their existence mostly around all of us who do not yet understand these principles. We have called these type of entities, aliens, gods, and the unknown factor. It is know, by me, and this statement makes me appear more arrogant than Donald Trump, and for this I am truly sorry, but UI do not apologize for the fact that indeed, I DO KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT, AND I DO KNOW ABOUT THE WORLD OF EXPLORATRONICS. It does not get a lot simpler than saying that.
Let us say that you are an advanced type-3-Exploratron. This means that you can go to sleep, and wake up in any part of hyperspace you want, any time, any dimension or parallel universe, and not only be awake as you are here, but begin to dominate at first, doppelgangers of yourself, and later on, others as well and even animals and machines and anything. I know fully well that an exploratron is inside of all the people who are causing me pain and misery. I know fully well that they are behind all the machines that fuck up and crash and act all weird and hacked and screwy. What you all call paranormal, occult, supernatural, demonic possession, alien encounter, and the list could go on and on, I know it all as the world of EXPLORATRONICS, this is not one bit part of DADDY'S PILLOW TALK at Dellway Arms Apartments back in 1974, so don't you dare fuck with me or my family, dirt bags. Once a very basic knowledge in real honest truth is fully understood, it all becomes quite clear what is happening, and the part nobody wants to ever hear or believe is that it all is a huge gigantic GAME OF DISTRACTION. We exist, this means there is no point where anything starts or stops, as time and space dimensions are only real in waking consciousness, transferable like straws through a sponge into a multiplexed system of the example given where Comcast has about 1000 channels, so in this example, we will just use 1000 universes, when the number is a vigintillion to the power of a vigintillion or around there somewhere in this neighborhood. The advanced Exploratrons will eventually come to see that THEY EXIST, and that's that Mister Esolph, with or without caterpillars or butterflies or curses that are all part of a game. Games distract. Many things can distract. If you are in physical pain, you can distract for a while with some great sex perhaps, but if that pain is at a certain threshold, even this cannot work. The point being made is that the only endless distraction to an awareness of everlasting existence, great as this condition may sound to a mortal unaware mind, this is true HELL, and needs be distracted away from, and the Olympians figured out how to d this, with powerful challenging games, this is where Earth gets it Olympics for crissake.
Now there are a few that are waiting for me to tell them whether or not I am really a successful TYPE-3-Exploratron or not. I'll answer you in the only way that I can. I am an engine that is capable of unlimited movement. However, comparing this movement to a car in a very strange situation and condition ob riding up above the highway by a few feet, and the highway itself is in motion. If I am riding north, the highway is always below me going south, matching my speed. I can do things that none of you would ever believe in as fucking million years, but the problem is that the situation around me, controlled by more than one exploratron at all times, is moving things the opposite way that I want to go at a matching speed. This is sort of like the problem Eric Clapton had in his hopefully fictional song that depicts his problem with a County Sheriff. No matter how hard he tried, this mother fucker just forever killed all of his seeds that he tried endlessly to plant, before they were ever allowed to grow, and turn into anything worthwhile. In this game, and as me in this line of family that I am in; there is one definition for all of this with me anyway, and that being the mother fucking HUNTINGTON CURSE. You cannot say two words like HC in the mood that I am in right about now without turning them into four words and cursing like a drunken ass sailor. Yes, I am a HUNTINGTON,and all HUNTINGTON blood has the EXPLORATRONIC ABILITY BUILT IN, they do it naturally, crissake read the past years of the blogs and if this does not convince you, then be a dumb ass, sawn-U-BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'll EXPLORE further, in soon to come blogs. Right now, you should click if you are here, onto the next posts appearing on the right column at www.blogger.com/ up on the YOU TUBE.
Man, learn to laugh world, Jesus Christ, where is your sense of humor when the shoes exchange????????????????????????????
END, LIKE DUH!
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