SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0470
KING
HELLHACKED NEBNOOSHOO
WLSBT
DATFILE: 070312.897
TUESDAY
HOLIDAY HELLIDAY EVE
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“PILLOW
TALKING FATHERS”
THE
MILLIONTH COUNCIL OF EXPLORATRONS AND ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT
CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2012
VPLUNTARY
SWORN OATH OF TOTAL TRUTHS
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
My
dad came to visit my mom and me after more than nine years of
mysteriously being away, supposedly searching for treasure and
working for and with, the two largest men in the country, Mel Fisher
of Treasure Salvers, and Kip Wagner of Real Eight Corporation. He
came back at the time that we had a looming disaster that nobody even
seems to remember or recall, and I am beginning to wonder if I am not
in a transdimensional situation where this never happened in this
universe where I now am residing, I speak of the Comet Kahoutek in
the final days of 1973 and early into the year of 1974. Many peeps
from the middle west were absolutely convinced that the world was
going to end. If nobody anywhere remembers this incident, then
obviously, it blew out the entire world, I of course am eternal and
cannot be killed, so here I am with more false memories, only they
are real, to me. But more complicated stuff about the mind and
memories, all surround the subject of transdimensional hyperspace, as
it all fits together in an absolute and quite astounding way, making
things all make total sense, after fully understood. Even 'repressed
memories' fall under this category, as 'time' as we think of it is
not real at all, and those who fully know this and know how to
exploit this and even play around with it as a game to remedy their
warped sense of feeling like little demigods,are behind why they are
in peoples lives. Those who have archived or all ready know enough
about me and my past, know about how I repressed Venka, and what she
could do, until I needed to call on that memory later in the same
year, to take advantage of a situation not pleasant enough to discuss
tonight. But shortly after Venka, came a night in the same apartment
where RT burned my BOB in December of 1969, after SK had taken my
chain away, came the next memory to be 'repressed', reactivated in a
strange way in the autumn of 1982, and even when things all caught up
in various so-called 'real-times', I still was totally unable to
connect the dots, and recall what my dad hod told me, in his sleep,
one night in early January of 1974, in that same RT Dells Way with or
without future anti-hacking Wil MacAfee friends of friends, apartment
of intrigue and seemingly unlimited mystery, that even prompted a
major network television show, 33 years after I left the place behind
forever, to move to 1118 Linden Hill Apartments, in Lindenwold, New
Jersey, having the telephone number of (609) 783-4020. The pillow
talk was lengthy, and since persecution is going to take me to my
grave anyway, we will start opening a totally forbidden Pandora's
Box, right now, tonight. My father served aboard the famous
battleship, Eldridge, during the Second World War. It was from this
very vessel, that he was able to gain access to taking information
available to him because he could prove being an heir to a Portuguese
direct ancestor, which was the reason that he joined the service to
begin with to escape his small town of those days in the early 20th
century, of Toledo, Ohio. This vessel had wonderful special magnetic
equipment, and he was able to mag the positions of seven sunken
treasure galleons, from information given to him at a secret museum
in Portugal during the war and a time when he had shore leave to
travel there. My father's life, like mine, was and is, extremely
complicated. His Was, mine IS, to keep things in accepted linear
order for human beings. This ship was used for experimentation, and
there are many books on the subject. One day, at the Philadelphia
Naval Shipyard, a place now removed some time ago, as another
intentionally REMOVED HISTORY MARKER, IMHO; anyway, but one day,
during one of several invisibility experiments, the ship began to
move in five dimensions, and my father actually jumped off, spend
several days ashore in the year 1983, and was able to get back on
board, all within a few minutes of ship-time. His ramblings to me in
his sleep that early January and early morning, were along the lines
of “My son is made ill on the 4th of June, and he kept
repeating this year over and over, 1983. Several of many great books,
tell the forbidden story, of how this Eldridge Battleship, indeed,
'CROSSED OVER' into several other times, and did appear for a brief
time, in the year of 1983. One night after I came home tired from my
job at the RPL Sound Recording Studio, in the autumn of 1982, I
thought I heard a voice inside myself as though it was the devil as
Christians had taught me to believe in this type of nonsense since I
was knee fucking high to a small kitten, but I was merely hearing my
own memories of a night long forgotten in late 1982, back in 1974.
The voice was clear and distinct, and was merely a repressed memory
of my own mind, but I clearly heard it say to myself, just wait until
the 4th of next June. This would be 1983 since this was
back around late November somewhere in 1982, towards the end of my
days at the 180 Robin Hill Apartments, in voorhees Township, in New
Jersey. Another case besides Venka the super girl of physical
strength, and my dad telling about my illness that he all ready knew
about in 1974 from 9 years in the future, but there was an in-between
time up on Long Island, in Babylon, at 175 Peninsula Drive, at my
relative's home, my mother's cousin Ruth Huntington, and her hubby,
Heinz Gottwald, the great banker of New York. When one day in 1972, I
went on a road trip my my Aunt Ruth and her grandchildren Scott and
Christopher Myers, watch your hands there Jimmy Sunshine Dean; from a
trip my mom was up there with all these wacky folks on the ketch
which is a small yacht type of boat, capable of sailing all around
the world, I was on it many times as a boy, and hated it. I hate
snoots, and I hate rich fucking people. Still, many know the story of
the dog walking, how I made friends with a luscious blond teen on the
very street where Mariah Carey grew up as a toddler, before her
parents broke up. Still, my blogs even as of the 5th of
October in 2008, show me in a state of repressed memories of being in
the house there, and seeing that wild strobe light, and the anger,
and the stair chase, and on and on. We cannot take this any farther,
I may not survive going this far, but it needed to get freaking said.
I said all this so anyone can validate and check many available
information sources, and see that indeed, my father knew about my
glandular dysfunction, nine years before it ever happened, and told
me in his sleep about it. No, I never confronted him about it, as one
time I did ask him about something else, and he got all mad and up in
my face about classified information, I;ll say one ting for my dad,
US GOVT, he was totally loyal, so don't any of you sit out there ever
bad mouthing him, you sick ass bastards. You're all just jealous of
the treasure, my weird family which if you understood the real
details would make you the happiest person in the world that you are
you and I am me, and stuck with this nightmare Huntington name and
curse. Dawn and Lisa can both die and go to hell, well, Luisa can
anyway, Dawn beat her to that punch back two New Years Days ago,
HA-HA-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You dare to call me a
fucking home wrecker and a family destroyer when I didn't do anything
whatsoever. Take your balls, and go home, you fat ugly bitches,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now
if anyone out here, thinks for one second, that this is where the
pillow talk ended, forget it, as it is where it began, then came the
space platforms on Star Trek shows, not yet done for years and years,
that somehow he witnessed from his trip up to 1983 from 1944. 39
years is one hell of a time travel. Still, the final repressed memory
that as of this date, I know of, was when I told Michele Daniels at
my job at the RPL Studios in 1980, that IRC stuff is not for me
because I am afraid of the trouble it can create and could not give
her a better explanation. Still, deep down, I remembered a lot of
stuff, all right, from the Carey's. Go ahead, any of you, ask MC if I
am lying. This world makes me totally ill.
What
she cannot tell you most likely, is how 1983 is so important. Maybe
she remembers, maybe she does not. That is between her and whoever
she trusts the most, to share the secrets with. I know I have been
recently pummeled by peeps from some connected source, for daring to
say as much as I have said, yet how come since early 2008, I am
supposed to just sit here like a target, while all this goes down
around me, wrecking my entire life and taking all that I had away
from me, ALL, that word is quite loaded folks, so duck for cover.
Time travel can change memories of some, while not others. Many folks
know exactly what I speak of here, and because they have experienced
something similar to these words, in their own personal lives.
I
am tghinking very seriously of taking my life in a few hours and be
done with this, I cannot stand any more of this mother fucking
bullshit, Dawn king said it all, it is on my last nerve. Oh yes
folks, I LIVED right there, with those JERSEY HOUERSWEIVES, with
stuff flying through the air at 2 AM, and screaming and cursing.
Don't be so quick to count me out and think this story is all made
up. I have one wonderful pal out here, and if you are RT, and I
,think you are, you now have my phone number, please call me, we must
talk, you were there, you
know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1969 is just four
digits to the world, but you KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ENDING
TRANSMISSION:
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