Wednesday, June 20, 2012

SAFE JOURNAL, CH. 0461 KING NEB










*****RED ALERT---RED ALERT---RED ALERT*****



SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0461

KING NEBNOOSHOO

1:09 PM FIRST DAY OF SUMMER, 20 JUNE, 2012, WEDNESDAY

TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO

NO SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR

WORLD LABS OF 2295

© 2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR



STARTING BLOG:



All morning long and into afternoon, my across the hall ass hole nabes are out in the hall like the mother fucking own the dam place, making noise. It amazes me how so many peeps are under a privileged delusion. I supposed whoever robbed me at the South Beach back on Fathers' Day Sunday, thought they had a right to my stuff that was clearly my fucking property and has caused me serious inconvenience as a result of their delusion, the nabes totally think that they own this PH Building (Public Housing), and the list could just read onward all day fucking long, YO.

















Ever since I said that I am going to do a final music project on the YOU TUBE, about two weeks ago, these hall nabes have been beyond hell, the same ones that called me the 'record singer' in a sort of dual waking-dreaming wild out of body experience, one of many experience by me from the early days such as at my moms apartment where I was visiting her and staying overnight, out in media, Pennsylvania, back in summer time 1976, 36 years ago to right about now. You want the word, GO TO THE WORD, slam, I was shoved up against the wall and onto a high air conditioner, while totally knowing that my body laid in my make shift bed, comprised of my mom's rear sofa cushions. Life is fun for a cursed Huntington, not a pleasant poem or lyric, but oh so mother fucking true, Lads, Lassies, Labbers, and Labrador's.



Well, unlike poor Bo Jangles' old dog, I refuse to give WOMOTAMM what they want, all these years, and simply up and fucking cunt die, so on goes this relentless battle of horrific quanta waves, to wipe every facet of my life totally out at the speed of light freaking squared. Maybe I am pushing some envelopes here with “YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER” but let me ask the Copyright Office a very simple question. With technology being so wonderful, and me just happening to be a 5-D traveler, if it was you, would you be able to resist this temptation, especially when you have created a really monster song, and it even fits all around the year of 1983, as though the cosmos is screaming out for me to do this, and so far, nobody has so much as really sneezed, so Mister Haddonwood, my question is your first name backwards, ignoring your second one, and noon Ativan popping as well, doctor ADD-I-EGO. Shouldn't the Donald have your name, and you have his? Jeese Louise, Emmy-Lou C. Tell mom I appreciate her returning my Wall Street Journal, if you are ever reading this blog, lovely Amy. If it was not for our age difference back when less than four years made so much difference, I would have been all over you girl. I love beautiful blonds.











My dick head nabes set off a fire alarm at just past one this afternoon, they are nothing but fucking trouble, and have been ever since they moved the shit in here. It lasted about a quarter of an hour until the fire persons came and deactivated it. We have cloudy skies today, and we have been lucky here recently with unusually cool weather. Still, I have a pesky large fucking knat that enemies have sent to me, and all these bugs and pests are totally impossible to kill or get rid of. Things SUCK!!!!



*****ENDING BLOG:*****

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