SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0431
KING
CURSED HUNTINGTON NEBNOOSHOO
051912.423
SATURDAY MORNING
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“4
DAYS OF RELATIVE PEACE FOLLOWED BY LOCAL WORLD WAR”
START
OF BLOG:
You
might think that yesterday, FRIDAY, was the 13trh, no it was not, it
was the freaking 18th, but I have had better Friday the
13ths. WOMO or the MILI-2-FORCE ENEMY SCUM has put me through quite
an attack, my health has been hit, shit attacks for several days now,
and yesterday after four days of far better local conditions at my
residence, ALL MOTHER LOVING HELLFIRE BROKE LOOSE. It was not from
many sources, just one, this VISITING GUEST of the apartment that is
directly across the hallway from me. This is the door slammer, and it
was done on purpose for reasons of symbology. I have coined this
word, and whether the world or the Spell Checker likes it or not, IT
FITS, and I WILL be using it when I so choose to.
In
1996 on Pearl Harbor Day, early in the morning of this seventh
December day, right smack dab on the nose of five in the early
morning; things were so totally NOT all right, but then, the morning
light was more than an hour away, as this was nearly into the winter
season. This is not a morning light all right prophecy blog, but it
is coming. In it, I'll be telling the play by play story of April
30th and May 1st, back in 1980, and my
recording my four demo songs at a place in Cherry Hill, New Jersey,
USAESMWG, called the Maxfield Recording Studio, that nearly got me
fired by my top overseer boss, Mister Ernie Merker, at the studio
where I was employed, Recorded Publications Laboratories, of Camden,
New Jersey, for a conflict of interest, you know, being around other
studios while working in this one. You can GOOGLE the great RPL and
hear many stories. My particular one, QUITE NATURALLY, for reasons of
necessary sanitization, has been omitted from the available
documented information available. So I will tell it myself, Mister
500,000,000 dollar Rowan, of Inductatherm Corporation, of
Samanthaberryville Road, just off of 295 and I-95. This will all be
on the blogs of the four hundred thirties, here and there. This blog
is to discuss the great statements made to me by the mystical and
awesome, SARAH-STACEY KRASSLE on Tennessee Avenue, in where else, but
in ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY. Two of them were made in 1969, and the
final one was made in no definable time other than to say that
referenced to me, I awoke from this twilight zonish experience at 5
of the clock on 12/07/1996, with a bang that nearly threw me off of
my bed. To this day about fourteen and a half years later, I see this
event as a few minutes ago, as it surely is every bit as clear and
vivid in my 6th dimensional reception signal (mind) right
now as I speak-type, as it was in late 1996. Let us once again
examine and view these three things that I not only heard clearly,
SSJKK speak on her great 10SC Avenue, in HER human form and one
lifetime ago; say to her friend, Paula King, in definite earshot of
me, and with the motive of my not missing a single word, and I am
taking liberties on the final one that is really the best advice that
All Mighty Jehovah-Scylla Goddess could give to me to be used in my
life as a necessary great tool for getting through the mountain sized
bumps in my nightmare life as the Mountainpen, AKA Mark Wayne Mohr of
Hammonton, New Jersey, and here is what I mean by taking liberties. I
have faint recollections of this same other girlfriend being there in
this exploratronic experience up in 1996, unlike a definite visual
contact in 1969 both times, late May, and early July. In reiteration
since I have blogged this many times over, here are the three things
that my lovely SARAH said on 10-SC Avenue, for 'THAT-BOY' or me, to
'hear', and 'get'.
MAY
30, 1969:
“YOUR
FRIENDS ARE IN THE SHOP”.
FIRST
WEEK IN JULY:
“I'M
DARKER THAN YOU ARE”.
PEARL
HARBOR DAY OR DECEMBER 7, 1996:
“LET'S
PLAY A GAME BOY, GUESS THE NAME OF THE GUESTS”.
At
a later time, we will further expand many meanings that are quite
obviously all wrapped up with the two waking world 1969 experiences,
but for now, we will be dealing with the exploratronic experience in
the digitally inverted year up in 1996, just four months after I no
longer had been a member of the Haddonwood Swimming Club, owned by
the great illustrious and very mysterious Mister Tony Zenun. His
nickname privately in my own mind is the “Morning Man”. This is
because AM is the morning, Ante' Meridian or before noon, unlike the
post meridian or PM, after noon. AM can secretly stand for
anti-matter, again initials of AM. His name is quite interesting in
all of this, but my wonderful daughter is most likely the only one
who knows what I am referring to and Y-NOT?
Haddonwood
and swimming in their pools, is all connected up with my mid-life
crises at these times in the middle nineties, and my more that
intense obsession to locate the great teen of my past, SARAH KRASSLE.
This literally drove me completely insane. It did not truly begin in
the middle nineties, because UI told my pal David Roth, back in the
spring time in 1986, all about Sarah from Atlantic City; right after
we exited a place where we had shared a meal together, the Medport
Diner of the Marlton and Medford Lakes area of South Central New
Jersey. Not ten minutes after we were in my vehicle and I was telling
him this, upon exiting the diner where we had been two legitimate
customers spending a nice sum of our money in there, an off duty
local police officer came over to us and put us through a living
hell, right out of stuff you might see on the greatest law show ever
on television, “L&O”. Well my life is not some mother fucking
TV show. But back as far as springtime in 1986, I knew there was no
running away from Sarah Krassle, not then, not now, not ever, SHE
RULES THE EMPIRE, and there is nothing that I can do about it. Just a
few months later in the first week in August in that 1986 year, Dave
out of the blue wanted one evening to go see one of his favorite
music bands, by the name of New Shoes, who were performing at some
Manhattan night club. The rest of the story is either known, or
available via my blogs and my YOUTUBE CHANNEL. It truly is a bloody
mess, and there is no way it can ever be rectified or made prettier.
If I were allowed to add my personal definition into the Webster
Dictionary as a definition and word meaning, for the word ugliness,
it would read the entire life of Mountainpen, especially after he
told his friend David about the greatest secret on Planet Earth, the
All Mighty Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle. This by the gods I do swear,
would be in the dictionary, if I were the croaking king of the world
by the name of Jeremiah-69. So before we really get into throwing all
of the cars and the bars of the world away and begin making sweet
love to each other, for those old enough out here to remember the old
sixties tunes; let us now attempt to move this along once again, YO.
I was out of my mind beyond hope or despair in late autumn in 1996. I
had desperately attempted to locate this awesome and quintessentially
mysterious teenager from my past, yet she was nowhere to be found,
and on top of that, the county prosecutor, intentionally lied to me
and misled me, and then after being his friend from the end of 1989
all through the nineties up to this point in 1996, he told me he
could not help me anymore and I needed to do my own legwork, and
began telling me lies at that point, just as with the deal around
this very same time, with my old boss Mister Steven John McGinty, who
had powerful attorney cousins in Atlantic City, wow, is this where I
am supposed to express some kind of a major shock value? He was all
set to hear my story and get together with me around middle Autumn
time of 1996, and to quote him, “I want to hear all about your
problem”. There was a reason that I knew that he would want to.
Nobody could figure out why I wanted nothing to do with all of the
girls that these men were trying to fix me up with when I was working
at the Mars Graphics Plant in Westville, NJUSAESMWG back in 1977. I
only told peeps back then, that I indeed had my reasons and that they
needed to just respect that, but in those pre-PC days, they persisted
and did not, and drove me nuts. I felt Steve deserved the explanation
a number of years later, nearly the magical Lambrigger twenty year
period as a matter of fact, right old pal Paul Stoddard from Dark
Shadows Soap Opera Television???Still, all though he was all quivers,
anxiously awaiting a soon meeting between us so I could tell about my
1969 rape underneath Central Pier, I had repressed the memory, only
remembering the rape by my cousin's friends, the great girl-gang run
by the King and Callio girls of the middle and late nineteen-sixties.
But the forces in Atlantic City, Robert McGuire for the main one, and
McGettigan from the ACMUA Public Waterworks, and other powerful
attorneys that were partnered up with Steve McGinty's attorney cousin
down there, all thought I'd remembered past the hypnosis done to me
by Exploratron Paula, and was about to make some real trouble for
these awesome secret Kennedy offshoot family branches. Now suddenly,
David Copperfield and his great magic kicked in, BOOM I could never
reach McGinty ever again, he would not return my phone calls, and his
wife was playing major games, and there was just nothing that I could
do about it, that was that. This evil atrocious bunch of hooligans
and thugs cannot be fought and beaten, in fact, they have all manged
to successfully beat me down to a bloody pulp, and here I am today, a
century late, and four bankruptcies short, out of my mind forever,
hated and ostracized by humanity and society in general, and the list
could read on and on like Serena Sutherland and her Access Nation
readout to Nora and Jack, BRAHHHHHHHH.
Now
we will go into the topic of what this final statement to me was all
about, made by the great Sarah Krassle, on 1996's Pearl Harbor Day,
after I threw the Deliverance Hexagram on my I-Ching Wands. As I
speak, these sick peeps that I will be talking about, are back to
screaming and shouting and all manner of their uncouth behavior,
yesterday it was in and out bing bang booming and slamming. Erwin, I
am right back now at 50-300-Black-Ten, a code you and I worked out,
and will be sending you in another week, my full detailed report. I
believe that he has installed, along with the normal security
surveillance systems of the building, his own special device that is
recording all hallway activity, both visually and audibly right
nearby my apartment, and we will see how all of this plays out down
the freaking line folks.
LSS
world, I live in Paradise. This is wonderful. I am the happiest
person in the world. Whatever you say Lenny McKinnon-601 Radio CB
Man. I need to tell what happened to the great Lenny, and will, after
things cool down a little with everything. He was whacked, we all
know my kid sent me that morsel of private knowledge in that little
escapade of hers. Still, then what is up with the 601 Miss Chillie
and him, a year in the future while I was down at the Mac-Andrews and
Forbes Licorice Plant? They too had a nice CB radio system, and a
huge tall antenna high atop the roof of the building that employees
entered and the guards also sat in a cage nearby. I'll say cage
because I for one felt quite subhuman or animal-like in those days.
Not because I was working menial task jobs below my abilities, but
because I innately knew that this entire future was all going to play
out and that I was totally powerless to prevent any of it from doing
so, after-all, it has been looping around and around and around for
more than 200 times now, that I can remember clearly, perhaps more
than this back in some blur out series of long forgotten memories of
antiquity.
Folks,
this hell nightmare is too complicated for any one blog to attack a
small corner of things successfully. We will now try and fix our
attention on indeed, doing some guesswork, translate this statement,
some detective and super sleuth work, legwork as said by Camden
County ADA at the Prosecutor's Office in Camden, New Jersey, Mister
Ron Wirtz Senior, back in 1995 and into 1996. It was not Ron who said
this best, but he did say it first, I would have to do some LEGWORK
ON MY OWN, guessing the names of the visiting EXPLORATRONS, so to
speak. A snotty child could see in those times, while I was going
through my agonies, the MTM Network was making ball busting movies
about my situation, thinking it is all funny and putting tons of
money into their evil pockets simultaneously. You can live with your
conscience I suppose, wo, I know I could not if I were you, you
pricks. Still, too many things were all interwoven throughout several
of their then LIFETIME TV shows connected with this MTM crap, and I
still do not know for a fact whether that butt wipe Mary owns this
network, the chances are quite high, all three letter initials match
those in her own name, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT. OK, so let's do some
exploratronic legwork and guessing, SCYLLA. First, there is you, MC,
I know you were once my Sarah on 10-SC Avenue, don't even bother to
try and convince me otherwise, great lovely empire ruler. Move over
Pedigree Dog Foods, or a painful sack of busted ribs may be in your
near future. Take it from a dude with freaking experience, WOW. Now
further applying the great advice given me on Pearl Harbor Day of
1996, it seems to imply a unity, and that SHE will help me do this
once I am onto things, well, as I began seeing this all go down in
2008, sure enough after one dozen years had all come and gone and all
sweet songs along with those years, Copyright Examiners from 1983;
the promise was fulfilled. The claim on the great tallest building in
Manhattan proves this. Indeed, as was said 12 years earlier, “Let's
play a game MARK (boy), Guess the Name of the Guests”. Sort of a
new version of Pin the Tail on the Donkey, the oldest and coolest
party game, once believed to be anyway. My point is that the LET-US
or “LET'S” was not an empty promise, Scylla never makes empty
promises. Armed now since middle 2008 with the truth that my Sarah is
again here on Earth, I'll respect all her plans, and will never do
anything ever to interfere with them. Still, she seems to want me to
keep trying to figure this all out, so I will obey my wonderful and
beyond awesome teen-queen, a real Hyundai-DUD if ever there was one,
YO. The reason I got the hot shit whooped out of my butt by Her the
other night was because I GOOGLED up the words, “OVER THE RADAR”.
I did this because an old recognized area code had called me on
several occasions, and I wanted to see if any information was
available about them. This is what came up on my caller-ID screen
each time, just the number, abnd those three words above the number,
in the 631 area code. When I went and checked it out, I decided to
post a powerful comment to this public page where others also were
commenting and also receiving calls from this number. Google it, go
see what I wrote, compare it, do the legwork, look up blogs from the
first third of the year of 2011, Mountainpen Blogs, they are all
archivable at the URL site as follows:
http://www.theansweristheqyuestion.blogspot.com/
and this is why Scylla beat me up so bad that next night when I went
to sleep. Well, it seems I apologized a few hours too late to my
Princess for my 'lousy janitor' comments made in my 1994 book, TPB,
wow do I feel like poor Barnabas Collins on the Dark Shadows
television show when Angelique died in his arms. I guess John
McDowell in the early sixties was right about single chances
sometimes. Anyway, I want to make sure that my wonderful teen queen
is not still mad at me, I am so sorry about telling anything
regarding 36th Avenue. Please forgive me brown eyed girl,
(BEG).
Yes,
the magical sentences of SSJKK. I'll be focusing on the one made in
another part of the hyperspace, the Pearl Harbor Day one about
guessing just who these exploratrons really are. Even the great book
says to seek, to be a seeker, and then answers come, you find, you
gain wisdom and truth. You don't change. Reality does not change.
What alters is the interaction between you and reality. This is the
resulting effect of Scylla removing the hinges from HER Lakehouse
doors, as in that mind bending early 2009 'dreaming-interaction'. I
know what is going on, I know that people bought more than 20% more
popcorn in movie theaters for several years straight, over all the
past year averages, before the mind control experiments commenced.
This is not fantasy or fiction, or somebody's personal opinion,
biased or unbiased, it is laboratory science, backed up with a
mountain stream of raw hard data. It has a name, CSC or Controlled
Subliminal Consciousness. This may not be the entire deal word for
word and reality by reality. After-all, the Mental Realm is existing,
and we are all mere products of this. But I have proven, whether Mr.
Wilder or even the great Colaman like it or not, that indeed, I am
being prevented from being heard, because these truths would remove
all of the billionaire capitalist swine from their ivory tower
thrones practically overnight if it ever got out and got serious
attention. So my next move is to pack up the place, and get forever
away, to Lake Chapala in Mexico where I can be away from all of this
revolting low life sub scum filth, forever, **END.**
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