Chemtrails of 1987 - King Nebnooshoo

AQUARIUS The Age Of Evil (1/14)

The Magic of Consciousness

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0536

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0536

KING PROPHETNOTHINGEIGHTYEIGHTSQUAT

SEPTEMBER ONE, TWO THOUSAND TWELVE

2:22 AM-EDST, SATURDAY HELLIDAY WEEKEND, BLOG STARTS HERE:

From ten last night through one or so this morning, my dirt bag hall hollering door booming neighbors went at it real good. For me, as Donna might put it, this was of course, real bad. But then, THE ENTIRE MOTHER FUCKING WEEK HAS BEEN OFF THE CHARTS OFF THE SCALES OFF THE DIALS SUPER ASS BAD. I ask Gawky Gaukauk why this week was so incredibly bad for me, and of course, WALL STREET was the answer, and I TOLD YOU PEEPS, DID I NOT, YO? But I have a few other matchbook items that are in my logbook for PCN-198, the number he gave me when this shit shit started up bad again last night with these fucking diseased rotten dirt holes across the hall. Yes, besides WALL STREET, PCN-198 has these other listings in my book, and I am sure the WOMO has a lot more in theirs about me, YO.

UNCLE HEINZ---SEPTEMBER TWENTY NINE---NICKNAME MY---CAPITOL CITY OF PROVINCE OLYMPIA

A diseased little punky child would or should be able to see that this will be a real bad HOLIDAY-HELLIDAY, AGAIN, FOR POOR OLD MOTHER FUCKING LITTLE PATHETIC MOUNTAINPEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is the first time in all the times that I tried to purchase a new automobile, in my life since the one I drove back in the days while recording at the RPL Sound Recording Studios in 1980, actually it was bought in June of 1978 and was kept until December of 1982 when I was White-Destined to run into the Briggbase Trilogy Group or the if I may shorten and abbreviate it for future usage, the (BTG), the T not standing for terrible unless we rearrange and box the order a little bit, aha-aha-aha Mike McNulty of '71; butr yes my point still stands strong here folks. The only time my motive for buying a car, pertained to what else but MUSIC caused me to not be able to get the deal. Now if we were talking a couple of cars, then it wouldn't be such a large mathematical chance against it being just a random coincidence of bad luck for me yesterday. No folks, I bought a lot of cars after the 1978 Chevy Nova that were not clunkers, these being the 1994 Saturn, the 1997 Plymouth Breeze, and the ione that I currently drive with 85,000 miles on it now, the 2004 Dodge Neon. So we add these three to the Chevy Nova, and then add the attempt to purchase a Hyundai yesterday from Delray Honda in South Florida, and we have a 4:5 ratio for being able to do it, after-all, they want to sell you a car. Their advertisements are all over the television. But this time there was a differing factor involved, than with the other four times, as this time, I wanted to use a road-trip-cash-offer of $500.00 to pay off my studio bill so that I could copyright my old 1983 GITYA SONG now rewritten in 2012 and redone, as well as add it to my YOUTUBE CHANNEL. I all ready knew as I used to say so often, to Lenny McKinnon, back in 1980, that it wouldn't work out, because MUSIC was connected to the operation. This will be an endless thorn in my side until I am deeply planted into the ground and turn to mother fucking maggots. Magnesonic, you know what to do, MMMMM.

My health has been effected by sky poison, I am sure the full blue moon is covered in CHEMTRAILS, as I am coughing and wheezing since midnight and cannot clear my throat, Doctor Carey. How I love living and moving in nine monstrous dimensions. Don't anyone ever fucking envy me or my life, you would only verify that you would win the contest of quintessential Fool. A lot of super shit is gonna' get said!!!!!!

 

BLOG ENDS HERE, L-4, AND OTHER FOLKS:

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0535

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0535

KING PROPHETNOTHINGEIGHTYEIGHTSQUAT

MAJOR HACKING-MAJOR HELL-MAJOR SUPER BOTBAR TIMES 2

12:22 PM-EDST-31 AUGUST, 2012-FRIDAY FUCKING CUNT AFTERNOON.

THESE BLOGS AND THIS URL ADDRESS AND ALL LSTED ONES ON MY BLOGS, ARE ALL COPYRIGHT, MARK WAYNE MOHR, 2006-2012.

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

I AM BEING FUCKING MURDERED BY THE OWNERS WEALTHY FAMILIES OF THIS EVIL SICK FORTUNE-500 BUILDERBERGER BOHEMIAN GROVE SICK TWISTED SATANIC WORLD.

It was all a game, I tried the Hyundai thing, and was fucking cunt turned down flat and cold just late this morning, by the dealership in Delray, Florida, and they all will, because their fixed established credit system and lending policies are all geared to the successful wealthy folks, blessed by the WORLD OWNERS or the WO, so it is all just a fancy vicious trick and round robin, you cannot ever get out of, they don't help you when you are down, and they are the ones knocking you down in the first place, and then mother fucking continually kicking you and forever keeping you down and totally fucking cunt lapping out. I TOLD YOU WORLD, WHEN MUSIC IS INVOLVED, THE FORCES INVOLVED IN ALL OF THIS WILL LITERALLY RAISE MOTHER FUCKING HEAVEN AND EARTH, TO STOP ME. WELL, FOR NOW, THEY DID JUST THAT. I MUST CONGRATULATE TALENT LIKE THIS, AS MUCH AS I WOULD GIVE MY EYE TEETH TO PLACE THEM ALL INSIDE OF A TRASH COMPACTER, AND PUT THE MACHINE ON EXTREME-SLOW-CRUSH-MODE, AND LISTEN TO THESE WEALTHY BASTARDS SCREAM AND CRY AND BEG UNTIL THEY DIE. If you think the song from 1983 and redone in 2012, called, “YOU'LL BE CROSSING OVER”, is not going to be posted up to my YOUTUBE account, think again. It will just be the harmony track, but I'll blog the lyrics so that anyone can print them up and sing along to it.

It is times like this, that I totally know that I don't mother fucking know one dam fucking thing. Jim Burr believed there was a real biblical devil, a god, angels and demons, heaven and hell, and the whole fucking cunt smear smack. Who am I to dispute this fucking intelligent crazy fucking dude? He seemed to know back as far as 1974, that, and to quote him, “This is all coming from something in your family”. I thought the guy was the quintessential loose cannon and as flaky as a hundred boxes of Corn Flakes Cereal. More than 30 mother fucking cock sucking years comes and goes, and I come to learn that the man was not so dumb, and that it was all about family, my family, and THAT FAMILY, from my 1970 nightmares straight out of fucking fire and hell itself.

Hurting me when I am all ready down, is a DOW JONES MONSTER TRICK. They all ready knew that I had been fucking been turned down as that is no big trick for these WORLD OWNER MONSTERS, watching their internet hacking programs while the dealership was running the credit on me. But when they tried to call me, the phone never fucking rang, not once, nut twice. It never rang. I know the trick. The first time no message was left, this was the WOMO calling at the very same time to interrupt the signal when the dealership tried to call me with the rejection news. Then the second message was from the dealership and telling me that I had been turned down.

Whatever magic I was in, during the year of 1994, is gone forever. I have tried to fucking kill myself, nothing will work, I am immortal and indestructible, even though I appear as just flesh and blood.

Obviously, my music is just not permitted in this holographic video game of SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE'S. The old song says she has got the whole world in her hands, and it is just a song to people, but I know differently. Just as to everyone else, it was just a cute little publicity stunt that day on the 12^th of May in 2008, twelve years to the day that I wrote the song, “SARAH”, on top of the Empire State Building. But the one person that two messages were indeed for and only for, ME, got them, while all others who they were not meant for, did not, NOW THAT MY PEEPS IS REAL REAL REAL REAL POWER. If you cannot see that, then just give up blindee. It cannot ever be made clearer than this, and I quit.

I was fired from the AARP program without good cause, and have written a letter to the White House. I have sent copies to all people that need to be advised of my plans for taking action, unless this is resolved, and I am reinstated back into their program.

A lot of people think that if they listen to my music, mountains will blow and storms will rage. This only happens at the start of a project when transdimensional music is involved. Once it has entered into this universe and remained here for a while, it is not going to hurt anyone or anything, nor are huge earthquakes going to wipe out continents. Some have asked me and wondered, why don't things go crazy as I profess, when anyone just tells a dream to someone over a telephone or writes about it in a blog or records it as a personal memoir on some electronic gadget? Nothing is as easy and simple to explain as I wish it were peeps. There is a tiny bit more to things than just having a dream and remembering it, and in it, was a song you never heard from your waking life, no matter how it was heard. Then getting out of bed and strumming with a guitar or banging on some keyboard keys, and plugging into a little karaoke machine. If that was all of it, nothing would happen such as twisters taking out half the country in the early spring of 2011. An entire grouping of worlds on nearby, yet separate atomic vibratory frequencies, sort of as with a cluster of neighboring galaxies; must be involved in a some similar situation, of your creation, and this sounds big and fancy or impossible to pull off for even a pope of a president or a billionaire, yet I tell you, it can be done by a child, and in fact, it is the children in their play, who indeed, are automatically doing this to start with, until the adult world gets a hold of them and forces them away from their childhood eventually, and into the next blinded generation of adults, or grown up versions of their once more receptive and innately smarter younger selves. I have yet to walk any of you through some of the play by play, real live things; that I've done in the more distant past of my present set of Astral Plane dreamed down 'lifetime'; and believe me, when I do this; worlds will literally collide, not physically, but as some might use the term, 'spiritually', YO.

Jim Burr predicted the arrival of both Lenny and Nick, and whoever else will later come to take their place as the exploraflow of life, is not DNA, following families through a chemical series of a double helix. Anyone of you out here reading these words, just about, if you think long and hard and real dam carefully, knows that quick instantaneous flashes of an entire parallel life, especially when you are tired and are near sleep but not quite there yet, can strike you, and make you almost apprehensive that you have forgotten an entire bunch of major things that you must take care of, and eventually, you come to realize, this is fantasy or some daydream twilight zone in-between you waking and sleeping mind-condition. The truth is that two things are both correct here. You need not worry one little second about this lost life that flashed in and out of your life as you now know it to be, as it has nothing to do with it directly, and the other thing is that no matter what, some huge entire other part of you is totally real, just having its being, somewhere and some when, else. The times when sleep is near you is just like the times when death is near you. You become aware of a wider and huger YOU, in short bursts and quick flashes, but you cannot really dismiss it as totally unreal or even unimportant, as deep down inside you, you know you are not really just alive here in this one little material existence. Now to connect this up just a little bit to the subject of music, we will take this side road here. Many musicians I had had both the pleasure and misery of knowing throughout my life as the Mountainpen, have all let me know one thing. My music is very different in many ways, than the music written by other folks. Why, is because, I hear many songs, in many other lives or you might say vivid dreaming experiences, and remember quite a lot of the details, and in these other worlds, the universe is off and different form the way it is here, and this is the way music is there, so I am forced to write in that style. Professionals can take my raw music and shape and mold and form it into more acceptable patterns of the accepted music of this universe, but nothing really is changed, my music seems to be unique, and it is recognized as very different and very unlike the accepted patterns of much of accepted established music, in any times and days, not just now, but since I was a young kid even. I believe that this is one f the largest reasons that I am stifled and not permitted to be recognized for the talents that I do possess in this field, even though it may not be to the liking of the societies of this particular universe. I have had a half dozen folks tell me over the past thirty-five years now, that they were dreaming a very vivid dream, and in color as well, and in this dream, music that they have heard from me that I have written, was in their dream, playing on radios, and were established hit songs, sung by many great singers, all unknown here in this parallel reality of course. My becoming mysteriously very ill while living in Atco in New Jersey back in 1983, was all a gargantuan part of this. It led me to writing some really wild stuff, that was as though I had all ready lived up here in this future now, as how else could so much of the lyrical content have been written supposedly by me, back then? Still, there is so much more to all of this, and I seriously doubt that a million pages will ever do justice to this entire monumental and wild story of truth and wonder. I have no choice but to fight this, whatever it is. Here I am with the story of the deka-millennium, yet who goes up to YOUTUBE and ever listens to any of my stuff. Most of these counts you see are my own posts to blogs. Nobody even cares at all, that this music is more than music, and it tells a story bigger than a fucking thousand bibles, but oh, that Mark, that lunatic, that bragger, that self righteous arrogant little prick bastard, why doesn't he just blow away in the next fucking breeze and take his stupid music with him? Well, you may all get your wish, and just maybe I have a memory where you all are in agony and crying out to me not to do this, only it will be too late, Ernie Merker Foca. When the huge quake hits, I will shed no tears for you, mother fuckers.

 

                   *******ENDING TRANSMISSION*******

REPOST OF WHY I WAS PUNISHED BY TRUMP

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0531

KING PROPHETNOTHINGEIGHTYEIGHTSQUAT

9:31 AM-EDST-WEDNESDAY-AUGUST 29, 2012

STARTING BLOG AND UNDER HEAVY ARTILLERY FIRE:

It started an hour ago, about 8:30 give or take. Yesterday on Tuesday, the nabes were well behaved and quiet. Now, it is slam bang doors doors doors and doors. This obviously has to do with WALL STREET, as this hell between them and me has been going on for close to thirty years. Still, there is a little bit more involved. Throughout my long blogs of many years now, I started quite a few topics, promising to take each one to a more elucidated and more realized conclusion at later times. Many I have, still plenty, have not yet been done, but will be, one by one, until these fucking pricks get the hell off of my back.

The biggest enemy I have and always have since 1984, was the “Donald”. This arrogant evil spirited immoral conscience-dead pitiful excuse for a person, wants to be President of America, and if Mitt Romney wins the election in November, believe me folks, by proxy, he will be. He did not do all these things for fun or for winning any nice-guy contests, such as start all the stuff about where President O was born. There is nobody I can tell the totally unbelievable story to, but it connects the great DT jit bag, to many parts of my life, all beginning late in the nineteen seventies and small parts of the general story were posted on blogs throughout the years, telling about my electronic metaphysics, and him being what is known on secret Astral-Realm circles, as a 'Phase-4-entity', not to get 'entity' mixed up in any way with an 'exploratron'. What I know and what I can take into court and satisfactorily prove to the system of justice, taking into account that I would be fighting a billionaire, makes any further discussion totally mother fucking laughable. Hopefully, this very statement will show to some of my blogging audience that I do in fact have my wits and reason, and am relatively rational, for all I have endured and been made to suffer through for many decades without any vacation or let up.

I am not into the crap that others in this generation like, such as cellphones, apps, notebooks, computers, social networking sites, the three main ones being F, T, and YT, even though I do have a YT account, and plan to be removing it later in early September, entirely, and forever. I am not playing games any longer. There is no waking up Scylla, in fact, I don't think that she wants to be awakened, and I am not going to be the one to awaken a sleeping giant who has the power to think this entire cosmos in and out of existence in a single fucking flash. You don't have to believe any of my words, it is sufficient to the cause, for me to know just how incredibly and disastrously true they in fact all are.

If the All Mighty HERSELF, does not want me to remove it, she can let me know in all manner of ways. She has my telephone number, she has my attention in 'dreams' anytime that she may so choose to enter into them, and she can use this silly electronic shell game and leave a clever message on one of these blogs, I'll be checking. If I hear nothing in these three mediums, then by my mother's birthday, all of my stuff will be forever removed and totally destroyed forever, as I don't need these games, and I refuse to play them any more, Robot Holly.

We are going to be going back into the last several years of the sixties and then begin the seventies, and open up some real worm cans about my first encounters with the LAMIST BRIGGBASE CULT in Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG, as well as discuss the three men who all died of cancer right around the same time in 1973, Al Soifer, Bob Pincus, and Sigmund Malyeska. Why would a boy in his early fucking teens, be being followed around, locally as well as in other towns and cities away from his residence, by strange groups of young persons that were in no way average in appearance for those times? That is to say, none were hippie style or type, as they had no long hair, no beads; the whole deal of the counterculture of those times, and this was non existent, and had nothing whatsoever to do with whoever and 'whatever' I was dealing with when all of this was getting an evil foothold on and around me. We will even work our way eventually into one single young lady who was a flower girl by all standards, and this would be the recording artist, Melanie Safka, from Queens, New York as well as Northern New Jersey across the river and in that nearby area outside of the city, The Big APPLE. An interesting choice of a description. It is big, that is not particularly of consequence, but you know; Adam, Eve, the Snake named Satan, the garden, should I go on, Lieutenant Van Buren Sampson Shangrala? WOW, is Spell checker a worthless item anymore so it seems, not seemingly knowing a thing about that other garden type of place either, nor how to correctly spell the fucking thing. What I'll be doing for a few days is wrapping this all up, and telling some powerful final things that will blow society totally away eventually, unless it gets sanitized and removed once I'm dead and gone. Then I plan to OD on my meds, and just do a Paula Weston L&O. I don't need to stay here and be a fool, or play silly teenaged games. To answer someone's query, the 1980 song that was ripping my “LOST LOVE” song off, was called, “HELP ME”, sung by Robin Gibb and Marcy Levy. Wouldn't it be the ultimate irony, if the Marcy at the Camden Medical Institute back in 1982, two years later; was the same Marcy? I doubt it for two reasons, first, there are a hell of a lot of peeps named Marcy. Also, most people in the entertainment industry are considerably younger than this woman about my age now or perhaps a little bit younger. In any event, all kinds of wild people popped up and said strange things to me, and followed me around. It was out of the Twilight Zone television show. This is all a big game to these travelers or advanced TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS of the collective called, EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND, existing as a powerful political type of force on the Astral Realm or Plane, just outside the great city of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, across the Teck Bay, not far from where Gawky Gaukauk has high honor tenure in a giant mystery school, called the TECK BAY MYSTERY SCHOOL OF PROVINCE OLYMPIA. I'm going to take a stab in the dark, and say something here. If I am wrong, then I am wrong. Things have happened to me between the years of 2006 and 2011 that tell me that at one time, and on varying levels and degrees, the great Scylla Goddess, also known as SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, watched over me, and seemed to recognize that my motives were honest and pure; and that I was only attempting to get to the bottom of all of this incredible stuff in my waking physical and material and caporial existence, or my life. Someone has been working on her to slowly change her mind about me. I believe it is my arch enemy who wants to be the back door President of my country, and I have, all though it is not up to court legal standards perhaps, proofs of what I say; and I once had a lot more, back in New Jersey. Of course, that is all gone with the four winds, Tara O'Hara. This arrogant mirror kissing fool thinks everybody loves him. People all around the world think he's a sick pathetic joke, but he is a lot more than that. He managed to pull a gargantuan cosmic trick off, and used me, in 1979, to do it. Five years later in 1984, I rued the day that I ever messed around with my first tape recorder as a small child. But I do plan to send the White House and my pal Barack, a little bit of damming information about all this. It may not stand up in court, but it is powerful enough to be used in other ways, and will totally ensure that Obama wins reelection. Again, the one loose end is having SSJKK remembering a few events in her life long ago, and be willing to substantiate it, if and when necessary; to some very powerful Washington peeps. I know in her human form, she wants him to get reelected as bad as I do. All the White House Cabinet has to do, is legally subpena files about how all telephone activity was monitored in my entire life dating back into the middle sixties and then forward into the middle seventies when I first got a telephone in my own name in 1975 from Lindenwold, New Jersey. Once you know what I know, you can force Trump to stop all his dirty tactics against you, sir, and he will have no choice, because this bastard does not belong here, he goes beyond anyone's concept of an alien, so I'll just therefore repeat myself, “He does not belong here”. You can be a total shoe-in, Mister President, if you ever need to use this information. So please do not let the agencies tell you differently, or try and discredit me. These things are all real and they all happened, and there was a real reason for it all, and that reason all had to do with this monster, DT. Just remember, if the election starts to go bad, and hopefully it will not, and you need to call on me, I will give you any and all details, but a powerful study and scrutiny of my many blogs, should also suffice even without me, but I'll gladly help you if you ever need me, Mister President. Goddess bless you, sir. It is not Mitt I am against by the way, as I feel he is basically a decent fellow, not that I agree with all of his wealth-lover politics that all the big republicans share no matter what they say. It is just his connection to a man so evil, that he ranks second only, to my son in law. This prick has tried to covertly kill me on ten occasions, and I feel he was responsible for what happened to my best friend as well as my mother. And sir, I really did know Andrews as a teenager, before he ever came to Washington, seems this is my eternal destiny with so many people.  

 

                                ***ENDING BLOG.***

REPOSTED BLOG OF SJ-CH-0525, YO

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0525

HALF PAST SIX THIS THURSDAY EVENING

23 AUGUST, 2012

START:

Enemies gave me a very mean and cruel BOTBAR day, since first light this morning. They have no heart, conscience, humanity, soul, or human feelings for another human being. Instead, they make Adolf Hitler, in comparison, appear as a saint, a philanthropist, and the next prize winner for being most like Gandhi, Sister Theresa, and founder and Chief-Ex- Officer, of the biggest charities on the planet.

From daylight time on, it was one extremely loud noise after another, rappers outside with their gods awful sounds from hell itself, neighbor door slammer pigs, raised by pigs, and a poison was used to again, mess up my heart rhythm causing nasty arrhythmia's, until I got up, and took an extra blood pressure pill, and two Bufferin, to thin the blood, and let the heart pass it more easily through the body, working less hard.

Nightmares were real bad while I slept from about eleven until shortly past four. In one of them, I weighed 300 pounds and could not get any of my clothes on, and could barely even move around. I could not for the life of me figure out how I got so morbidly obese, not that I am not there all ready, but it was even worse. I may go back to playing the Morianity to the roaches and beyond, as well as into the unconscious collective of humanity, but for now; I wil revert back to some revenge counterstriking, with the telling on these blogs, of some real heavy major secrets. Before I do, I have reviewed carefully what needs to be done. MY ENTIRE YOUTUBE GARBAGE, will all be coming down soon. I am all through thinking I can send messages through my music, as I am old, and my music is not liked by the modern world, with their animal lust for nothing but hollering ugly words, and inconceivably heavy beats; all with basically no melody at all, and this to me is NOT MUSIC, and I refuse to try and write to their new age sick twisted style, so keep it folks, enjoy it; and as my uncle Stuart Huntington Mason said to me in 1983, while visiting my Atco, New Jersey home, one afternoon; and we got to talking about some silly thing; “Leave me out of it”. I am getting totally rid of my TV and Cable service, I never listen to radio broadcasting, and my only posts onto internet websites will be the LIFE JOURNAL on my blogs, so I can keep telling about the injustices perpetrated against me by these monster people all over the world all my life, for reasons that as Jim Burr said in 1974, and up through about 1990; have to do with powerful family situations and secrets, and you know what people; I really don't give a fuck. I'm tired of this shit, and folks it is old, it is annoying; and I have a life that I wish to get on with, so if you are so bound and determined to stop me from doing so, then know this; you will most certainly have to murder me physically. I am packing up everything in the apartment, and will just vanish one morning soon, and nobody needs to know my business; but I am putting this horrible life here in Florida, forever behind, and am heading for South American destinations, never to look back or participate in anything connected with capitalism, or America, or music, or my past that comprises any of this junk here, over many decades of time now.

I asked the cat a lot of questions earlier B4I began this blog, and you only need be concerned with one of these numerous GAWNUM QUERIES. I asked why this horrific siege was done to me on this devil number day of 23, as 12 times annually, I face its wrath and disaster producing results? My answer from Kitty cat Gawky Gaukauk was PCN-972; an answer that I tend to receive during some real bad times over the past couple of years here in Florida. Here are some of the MATCH-LIST ITEMS for PCN-972, in my book L-4, and for any and all others up here, reading these blogs:

LAKEHOUSE

GIANT GIRL

MORIANITY

FIRE DREAM

JANE FONDA

ZERANNISS

Now to me, these answers make total and perfect sense, and I do not have the time right now on this blog to go into why, so as to assist you in your own understanding, maybe at a later time I'll try and do a Johnny Nash, and clear things up for you, just not right now, and not today will the story be continuing, written in 1977 by my mother regarding her very unhappy experience with her love affair at her office with her horrendous boss, who hailed along with his family, from Chicago, Illinois, also known as (AKA) the WINDY CITY. Certain things will remain, and as promised by 'Scott Ransom' types of people, totally endlessly, 'inescapable'.

Right now I will tell a powerful little thing, and then log off and enjoy my chicken and rice and spinach dinner with my television show, “The Mentalist”. The little thing I will tell on this blog, and this will just scratch major stuff that will indeed be continuing on following blog works by this author, has to do with the watching of entertaining television shows, such as, my favorite and greatest law show of all time, even surpassing Perry Mason of the fifties, and that being, the one and only, not Cheerios, but, “Law & Order”. Yes folks, it was there to do its job, and yes folks, it did its job. We all know what's being said here, or else and PC or not my friends and fiends, you're riding on the perpetual yellow short bus. No offense, but if you cannot piece Morianity together, even if you don't believe in it, yes, the term of you and short-bus would have to go hand in hand. There is simply no other way around it, I am truly sorry. Yes, they even took away the single airing of the 3AM show back a few days ago. I was all set to watch it, and POWWOW and Native Cher Bono Americans, off it went, and it did not come back on, sort of like our electrical system after World War lll strikes, it will go off, but it won't be coming back on, another great old Hotel Kali4nya deal from 1969 and other highly secretive years of the Planet Earth, with or without my favorite Philadelphia football team, Miss luscious gorgeous Simpson. For those who may not know it, the final one was not on a Friday, but I believe it was back last Monday, and then off it went just like “DARK SHADOWS”, without so much as an up front hint or clue, not a ghost's whisper, lovely Jenny Love Hewitt Sarah Fiveparty. On top of that, the last episode was all about a music rock and roller, and you'll love this, called 'C SQUARE'. Maybe this gave the top female artist in the world, fifteen years later; the bright idea, to do her E=MC SQ project. I learned a lot from that, as there were many in-between the lines things to be gleaned from that project, if you are looking, that is.

I made an error, so what else is new. I told you the blog at www.blogger.com/ telling about the road trip with wonderful Chockerman Lakehouse, that I took after falling asleep, up to Boston, was blogged in October. It was blogged on the 30^th and final day in September in 2008; now there were two blogs posted up on that day, an early morning one just past midnight, and then one later on in the day, and it would be on the later one. This is where I see, 31 days before it ever happened, the great 2008 parade on Broad Street in Philadelphia, on Halloween Day, after the Phillies Baseball Club had just won the World Series the previous night, after not doing this for 28 years, with or without KALI and her nightmare and tear causing hell, that she has put me through, as per my late 20^th century copyrighted song called, what else Diana Ross, but “Mirror-Mirror”. Do you want to know why I won't tell secrets such as give precise detailed, simple to follow instructions on how to alter reality using the principle of manipulating transdimensional hyperspace? Simple, so simple it bites your prick right off, and spits it out into a meat grinder. Only the top controller wealthy world-owners (WO) would make use of it, and they probably all ready know of this; and do just that. The other folks would read it, and scoff and laugh, and move onto the next blog, and get some more laughs, with Sister Nancy-Ann and her adventures at the Vatican. I don't know which blog you should be getting the most jollies out of in all truth, so I won't judge you. I merely tell you that I will only tell things that I know that the smaller folks might just be able to make some use out of. I don't live for the wealthy mind controllers, who run all our shows, knowing we are all too stupid to even be remotely aware of the situation. I want you to know that something will soon post up that is out of time sequence by close to four years. You really do need to read it, especially one paragraph of it. You'll know which one when you get there, and then remember, just what I am up against, and why since the age of 20, I think of hardly anything, other than how to take my life, and be done with it all; and that folks, was nearly 40 dam years ago.

I think you are up here Ann King. I remembered something you told me, I never forget anything, it is part of the curse I carry around honey. You said that you kill people that you don't like with kindness, and this is what you did to me right after I dared to bother the Sheriff of San Mateo County in Kali4nya. Both you and my nosy kid and her friends, all called me within the space of minutes after I made the initial call to tell him of the wild hacking from the 36^th Avenue address. What Ann, don't little nobody people like me have any rights? Don't we Detective Stabler and Benson, or are you all nobody's too, getting raped under piers on holidays, and thinking its funny and laughing at my pathetic life endlessly? HA-HA-HA Icabod Crane. Maybe the last laugh I was planning struck a laser mirror and bounced. I can find no other explanation for that incident, oh great US Copyright Office. How do you live with yourself, Ann King? I thought I was your friend. How much did the family grease your PAWM PIE ETTOS, I'm left to wonder and presume, Mizz Livingston Safari?

I will wrap up by saying that despite some really bad times recently, my roulette is kicking some powerful monster ass. I will move to the area of the Pompono Casino for a year or two, make a mint, and then get out of this country once and for all, before they totally bury me six miles deep. You're another real asshole Paul. I miss you and your lies, and your wonderful mood swings, and bad company; as I would miss a mouthful of abscessed teeth being slowly drilled by a dull one, with no novy. Good riddance to every one of you. Soon, I'll be forever OUDDDDDDAHERE, Mister Callas, and if they ever want to find me, then try HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That is where I'll be, Tiny Tim, tiptoeing through the fagot ass tulips; and certainly not with you. I'll have a heirum of teen babes, and all the money I'll need from the casinos over at Humphrey Bolgartville. No, not the soon to be clocked Key Largo, I mean MC, no, no daughters to worry about either, that is all forever behind me now. Once I close a book on things, an atomic blast cannot be powerful enough to rip it back open. Just ask anyone who ever knew me, and how stubborn I can be. Let me end this now, good night good folks, and stay well. Keep the faith in something, either in Morianity, or whatever turns your lights into brilliant pretty colors. I was never here to tell you how you should think, only that perhaps, you should think; as it does separate you from all other life creatures on this earth you know, as only mankind really thinks. Don't let the animal freaks lie to you and tell you otherwise. Where are you when I need you Mister Hefner? Spell checker won't help me spell the word for a large group of lovely girls, at your service, sexually. I did the best I could. See you in happy land L-4, or in my case, misery cubed, as I will unrelentingly be under the great and powerful non-OZ-Huntington Curse of 2000 years.

END, END, END, END, YES, I WISH IT WAS THE END, DUH!!!!!

TEST THE SPIRITS OF TIME TUBES FROM '69

Here is where you need to click into, if you want proof of time travel, as BLOGGER and GOOGLE are billionaries, and the wealthy all stick together, you all know what I mean, so don't play stupid ass with mother fucking me, YO.

Just go here, YO.

http://www.mountainpen.wordpress.com/

This will prove that I have had my troubles with this wonderful and monster-ass firemall family since 1972 or mayber, since 1772, who can ever know that for sure, not even ancestry.com or the great Mormom Church.

BYE, YALL.

FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION CHAIRMAN MCDOWELL, OLD PAL

WORDPRESS WILL NOT STOP HACKING EVERY TIME I EVER TRY TO POST A BLOG, WHY DON'T THEY JUST CALL ME AT 772-489-8625, AND HAVE THE BALLS TO TELL ME WHY OR THAT THEY DO NOT WANT MY BLOGS ON THEIR SITE, AND I WOULD SAY FINE AND NO PROBLEM?



NOW THE BLOGGER SITE WON'T ALLOW ME TO CUT AND PASTE ANY MORE BLOGS. WHAT DID I STRIKE SOMEBODY'S WHITTLE NERVE OR PHONY BONE THE WRONG WAY, OLD SCHOOL CHUM OF THE FCC, BOB MCDOWELL?

REPOST FROM 09/30/2008 AFTERNOON

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

TEST THE SPIRITS AS SHE SAYS 2

‘TEST THE SPIRITS, AS SHE SAYS 2’
T/T/W/M, etcetera subtitles 2 BLOG 5 on BDCWS
Datfile: 093008.623.55 ------- Begin Transmission:


Well, I drove Ann over 2 Wal-Mart 4 a few whittle items at just past 2 this afternoon on the east coast of America time, and a nasty CHEMTRAIL was right there 2 greet me, all ready knowing that I was about 2 drive over there, they obviously hear all that is said in a car, at a workplace, at a residence, and I believe as did Timothy McVeigh that microchips R Milituforce PLANTED right into people, the agent in the project that is so black ops it cannot B discussed, merely walks by the person 2B implanted and has a tiny tool similar 2 Doc MC COY on Star Trek’s original show, or a similar little thing, hay, stuff from this original Star Trek has ling become totally outdated and obsolete such as TAPED-MUSIC, “mister President Lincoln”, think how far the MILITUFORCVE is over what we can even dare 2 want 2 know and imagine. Those that know, know that I speak dangerous deadly truths. If they wanna keep pouring on this harassment, I will keep right on counterattack-fighting-back, I am not some geek in a high school who simply intends 2 wussy-pussy out and go crying to daddy and mommy, ain’t happening bright colorful lawns there, BRO. Yes, all ready, the Queen King came in and asked me something about the trip when her mom Ann and I were out at the great Sam Walton’s place. I want 2C if can get this posted and finished by 30 minutes prior 2 closing bells, as if I do not, I’ll B stopped from posting it until after the markets R closed, free country, where is Mo and Larry, and Curly when U really need them, bing, zong, goonk in the eye? Being sorry 4 not implicitly trusting my great Teen Queen is one thing, and I am, and do now trust her as I know U have some fantastic plan in all of this that as of now shrouds me in total mystery great Mariah, but I am angry nonetheless at filthy diseased BRIGGERS/MILITUFORCERS, 4 forcing me 2 endure their evil rotten wrath and destruction of my innocent and totally pathetic life when I did nothing ever even close 2 deserving this outlandish and twisted infinite hell, other than being born in this cursed family line 62 generations down directly from a brother of the great SAR Jesus. I cannot let all the cats out of the bag that I wish 2 right now, it would not B a bit healthy on my part should I ion fact do so. I however, am able 2 say and blog this. Scripture says that lovers and believers in the All Mighty SAR, or LORD, adding the AH makes this word go from masculine into feminine in the original Aramaic Hebrew language, should always TEST THE SPIRITS, 2C if they come from Diana’s brother Apollo-Lucifer or from the Upline Teen Queen that I know 2B Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Karge Krassle, asleep in her own thought wave, dreaming she is All Mighty Goddess Scylla, U would simply shorten and abridge all of this 2 the word, GOD. I am testing many spirits, but how R they 2B tested some of U may in fact now B inquiring??? If the situation being examined disagrees with the ten commandments and the basic principles found in the King James Version or KJV or the HOLY and whole complete total idea and mind of this great book and its words, then your message is not from any source other than your own deluded mind, which in some cases as it is all from the 6th dimension, comes from your own systems of thought, and in rarer cases, is a direct result of interference from ETTOS-TECK, from the mighty wicked demonic Briggbase residents, or the evil Lambrigger Cult, SATAN THE DEVIL, put Biblically in the time period of less knowledge and spiritual wisdom of the combined humankind, as exists presently. When I know 4 a fact that Satan the Devil hates me and desires 2 keep me down and oppressed, poverty stricken, homeless, friendless, and loaded with endless enemies, poor health, persecution, conspiracies 2 wipe me out on a daily basis, and on and on, I must conclude that when a cat gives me a winning number that if I had played as the cat told me 2 plat, Gawky Gaukauk that is, back near this time 28 years ago in the inverted digital ‘80 year, I would have made lots of money, and again, this is not the intentions nor the goals of Satan the Devil, 4 me 2 prosper in any way ever, in this material world. So Lottery-Cat, GG, is not part of Satan’s kingdom when U run the TESTING OF THE SPIRITS. On a later and future blog, pother examples both where it was Satan, as well as SSJKK, was determined by indeed, using biblical command, obeying HER mighty words 4 us frail humans, and testing these spirits.

Over the weekend I watched the huge party that Philadelphia's were all celebrating, blimps all over, and major cheering. I was in a major interaction with strange persons, a tall thin well muscled back young male, about age 25, and we had been traveling to Boston, MAUSAESMWG together, and were put up ion a very weird and bizarre hotel overnight. He had some good friends that were on the New York Nicks basketball team that were gonna help me in some way in proving my horrific and monstrous dilemma and plight. I*t was so real, I could feel the raw cold in the room towards late October, and the manager of the hotel turned up the heat. A strange clock and a strange telephone in the room we had been placed in had a strange interaction with each other, someday I will tell the entire long and wild story, the strange road on the wild ride home, only not 2 any home or place that makes any sense now 23 my waking world brain and memory system. But the raw cold and the nice heat were more real and tangible than any feeling of temperature on body or skin in the waking world. Then the blimps over the Delaware River were written things such as Phillies 2008 World Series Champions. This was a wild and far out “DREAM” pal.

In closing, the main reason that BRIGGERS hate me is that I would have been able 2 defeat their wickedness against me and in my own strength, breaking a Lawtronic/Biblical rule/LAW. This is when I was taught by lightning from my bathtub in Williamstown, NJUSAESMWG how 2 use applied PE 2 the game of Roulette, or how 2 use the APE-2R as she laughingly described it 2 me when I fell asleep that afternoon in a nice warn early spring bath tub in my apartment called the HIGHVIEW. Things R soon going 2 explode huge hyper time with Dawnie Terra the terrible, and some incredible thing will eventually transpire in this marvelous scary and far out MARHOUSE. Don’t get all excited there late Merv Griffin/Pipe, along with your advertising gang, coincidence, just chalk it up 2 that, right, ha!!!!!!!!! Mervelous Merv and Marvelous Marhouses all not withstanding, let me now C if Satan the Devil will let me post this blog up B4 the closing bell on their cheated and controlled fixed Dow Jones, SEC??????

BYE-BYE all, 4 now, C Y’ALL LATER ON FOLKS, WHAAAAAA ELMER FWUDD!!!!!

Posted by theansweristheqyuestion at 12:40 PM

Labels: ALIENS AND UFO SUPERNATURAL DREAMS MILLIONTH COUNCIL BERMUDA TRIANGLE, government persecution in leagu e with MILLIONTH COUNCIL. millionth council and bermuda ttriasngle

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SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0534

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0534

KING PROPHETNOTHINGEIGHTYEIGHTSQUAT

JANE DIRTBAG AFTERNOON TIME ON

AUGUST 30TH, 2012 HELLIDAY HOLIDAY TIMES

WHAT ELSE IS NEW/SAME OLD SAME OLD/SSDD

THURSDAY AFTERNOON ON A SUPER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY

STARTING THE BLOG:

WELL, I WAS NOT BEING TOTALLY PARAMOID, LADS, LASSIES, LABBERS, AND LAB DOGS (L-4). First, it is basically coming up on another one of my mother fucking FAMOUS HOLLIDAY HELLIDAY DEALS, LABOR FUCKING DAY, and CALLIOTAMM WOMO-TAWF just loves to fucking relentlessly torment and torture me on my birthday and all holidays, as anyone who reads my blogs, has known about for going on seven years, but it's been going on SINCE FUCKING AUGUST THE FIFTEENTH IN 1986, AS SICK AND TIRED AS ANYONE MAY BE OF SEEING THIS DATE IN PRINT, AS GUESS WHAT FOLKS, AS SICK OF IT AS YOU MIGHT BE, I CARRY THIS HELLISH SHIT WITHIN ME 24/7/365.2422, YO!!!!!!!! Who do you think is more sick of this lovely adorable wonderful fucking date? Oh Doris firebug Plum of Williamstown on Main Street, how you wanted me out of your shit hole by the 15^th of September, back in 1979, and how I'll always remember you saying that word (15^th) in an emphasis that only you could say exactly how you said it, and yet, how this paled later on with a date out ahead of it by (83) mother fucking months, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Quite a fascinating number of 'later months' would anyone disfuckingagree with me here?

Yes, maintenance was here, and they fixed my bathroom all up real nice, right down to a brand new bathtub tile clean and cauk job. I had totally forgotten that the Incollingo Grocery Store of Egg Harbor City, and the yellow/chocolate cupcake deal must have all kicked in. I remember slicing my wrists and bleeding out, and then typing on a blog that I was going to take a medical overdose, and all I really know is that here I am waking up from a dream where it is all scrambled together, yet it happened. Not only did it all happen, but with or without the maintenance work, there never has been this many doors banging and going all morning and into the afternoon, since my arrival here at this PH Building. NEVER EVER. There must be 1000 illegal mother fuckers living in the apartments across the hall from me. Yes, Egg Harbor can never ever be escaped from, and that is a recorded document for anyone able to read through the lines, and not by me. I do not rule empires, own great cities larger than this entire planet many times over, or have the ability to pick up ocean liner vessels and fly them all around. I have experienced all this with the great SARAH-STACEY KRASSLE, and let me tell this world something. Words do not exist for me to tell anything. I've tried to tell parts of all of this over the past nearly seven years of my miserable horrendous blogging career, but the project is and was, a disastrous miserable total fucking failure. Any really smart peeps, and I think it is roughly less than five who not only follow these words regularly but take them seriously, my MTOF as I call them for short, knows the true and awesome power of Morianity, despite the worldly appearance of it being a speck of garbage and nothingness and insanity. First off, even a sampler had to sample something. Second, the Copyright Office tried to tell me some of this through the back door when they were freaking out over a silly yellow sheet of paper in 2008 before I left the Mullica Mobile Manor at Jenny Plageman's dirt-hole place. Third, if all this stuff fitting this marvelously and completely together could be a coincidence, fine, but the odds would be quadrillions to one against this, factoring in all the things such as the World Series Parade, and all of the wild shit, and finally and fourth, as if it needs to be said to MTOF, the numerous admitting utterances, unconsciously perhaps, of SSJK in carnation form such as the well timed with the lyric in LOIS FOCA, the top of the building, and so on and so on and so on we could go for a very long time. I know this is all real, just as I know that somebody is plotting against me and has been since my birth, worsening after leaving high school, and then worsening several more times even still, at varying future times. Nobody has this fantastic of an imagination, not Patterson, king, Spielberg, Agatha, name the great fiction writer authors all day if you wish, my shit beats it, BECAUSE IT IS NOT FUCKING FICTION. Anyone who can believe that I could possibly or remotely be that fucking talented, first, thank you so much for the wonderful fucking compliment, but I cannot accept it, it would be a total lie. Nobody on this fucking planet is seeking the absolute total truth of what is really going on behind all of the OZ curtains of my life, more than I am. I'm not looking for some fantasy or way of titillating some delusion. If I want to get a thrill, I have plenty of great video filled with many lovely women who love wearing their birthday suits at pools and beaches. I am only seeking after truth, and if I thought for a second that anyone I could put my finger on, had that corner on total truth that is pertaining to my life, I would be at your door, and you would give it to me, one way, or the other. But why was this day given to me folks? Why this holiday thing, and why my birthday and Christmas Day most of all? Well, we would need all day and well into the night to even crack a corner surface on this one, so later on we will go there slowly, but for right now, let us work around this a little freaking bit, OK, late JK of AC-NJ-USAESMWG?

So why does SSJK keep coming into her own dream here, and why is this all happening to me, and why is Mister A through Mister G, so adamantly prevented from interacting in my life without dire consequences? Well, I promise to get into this and make it within about two pages in length for about 100 people that read these blogs from time to time, but I am not going to insult the MTOF. You don't need that answered, do you? You see instantly how these three pieces have been cut into thirds, placed in a jig saw puzzle box, and sold on the internet by the Mountainpen, for the reasonable price of $0.00. I don't want your money, I just want to borrow your attention and your ears, sometimes occasionally, perhaps even your shoulders. But you can always choose to lend me those, or choose not to, YO. Oh those monster-ass fire recordings. JEESE LOUISE FONTY MONKS. Yes, anytime at all, I can reach you Scylla, but you know, if this is what you want and these are the rules of the game, who am I to even try and make plans that will interrupt the great plans you have for me?

As for my mother and her true story she wrote back in 1977, that, as HEAVEN, can wait. When things get real fucking ass bad for me like they are right fucking ass now, I cannot perform tasks that require even an ounce of extra energy. I need to conserve every bit of my strength just to fucking survive and maintain some tiny level of sanity throughout crises situations such as the holiday siege syndrome or the HSS for a short abbreviation, YO.

Well big Herby Letts, and Letty, and other great retail outlets that might just suddenly perceive the great truths around us all someday, all though this is quite doubtful; maybe the illustrious mighty brain egghead from the Jersey Harbors might just start to see things also. You cannot write my story in some orderly fashion, not in time, or in category. I have tried, and those that witnessed it on the blogs, saw it totally shoot up in bigger flames than anything that Robert McGuire or Dawn-Marie King, could ever hope to ignite, in their wildest and most bizarre fantasies, and twisted illness.

Well it is seconds shy of two in the afternoon on a super BOTBAR wicked day. This day for me, was robbed. Who is the biggest thief and the biggest liar according to Holy fucking Scripture, folks? Good old SATAN. Still, this fucking day legitimately belongs to him, he earned it. I won't take away from anyone or any entity what seed to fruit product their talents were able to achieve. A great prick, that's U old buddy wall OOB slammer. Imagined, yeah, right, BRAH.

 

 

                                 ***END***

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0533

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0533

10:41 AM-EDST, AUGUST 30, 2012

STARTING OF THE BLOG AND A SHORT TWEET, ROCKIN' ROBIN:

When I am wrong, I am wrong, and will be man enough to admit when I am wrong. Yes, there has been a lot of activity and noise, but there is a good reason. It seems this is maintenance day and numerous workmen are all over the floor and in my unit right now, on work orders resulting from these found in the inspection that I mentioned a while back. I will be forced to put off going to bed until tonight, or later, whatever. Still, the answers given were very much on the money, as far as the GAWNUM, for why things were so noisy. My paranoia took over today, and I am man enough to admit that to the world, so sorry, Mister Ambassador of Japan, watch those loud sound effects from 1983. I know I'm, just a good for nothing rotten son of a bitch. Let me bid everyone a fine farewell for the time being, YO.

ENDING OF THE BLOG:

THE GOVERNMENT IS COMING FOR YOU!!!!-Brandon J. Raub

Kidnapped Marine Speaks Out Against Government Tyranny

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0532

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0531

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0531

KING PROPHETNOTHINGEIGHTYEIGHTSQUAT

9:31 AM-EDST-WEDNESDAY-AUGUST 29, 2012

STARTING BLOG AND UNDER HEAVY ARTILLERY FIRE:

It started an hour ago, about 8:30 give or take. Yesterday on Tuesday, the nabes were well behaved and quiet. Now, it is slam bang doors doors doors and doors. This obviously has to do with WALL STREET, as this hell between them and me has been going on for close to thirty years. Still there is a little bit more. Throughout my long blogs of many years now, I started quite a few topics, promising to take each one to a more elucidated and more realized conclusion at later times. Many I have, still plenty, have not yet been done, but will be, one by one, until these fucking pricks get the hell off of my back.

The biggest enemy I have and always have since 1984, was the “Donald”. This arrogant evil spirited immoral conscience-dead pitiful excuse for a person, wants to be President of America, and if Mitt Romney wins the election in November, believe me folks, by proxy, he will be. He did not do all these things for fun or for winning any nice-guy contests, such as start all the stuff about where President O was born. There is nobody I can tell the totally unbelievable story to, but it connects the great DT jit bag, to many parts of my life, all beginning late in the nineteen seventies and small parts of the general story were posted on blogs throughout the years, telling about my electronic metaphysics, and him being what is known on secret Astral-Realm circles, as a 'Phase-4-entity', not to get entity mixed up in any way with an exploratron. What I know and what I can take into court and satisfactorily prove to the system of justice, taking into account that I would be fighting a billionaire, makes any further discussion totally mother fucking laughable. Hopefully, this very statement will show to some of my blogging audience that I do in fact have my wits and reason, and am relatively rational, for all I have endured and been made to suffer through for many decades without any vacation or let up.

I am not into the crap that others in this generation like, such as cellphones, apps, notebooks, computers, social networking sites, the three main ones being F, T, and YT, even though I do have a YT account, and plan to be removing it later in early September, entirely, and forever. I am not playing games any longer. There is no waking up Scylla, in fact, I don't think that she wants to be awakened, and I am not going to be the one to awaken a sleeping giant who has the power to think this entire cosmos in and out of existence in a single fucking flash. You don't have to believe any of my words, it is sufficient to the cause, for me to know just how incredibly and disastrously true they in fact all are.

If the All Mighty HERSELF, does not want me to remove it, she can let me know in all manner of ways. She has my telephone number, she has my attention in 'dreams' anytime that she may so choose to enter intro them, and she can use this silly electronic shell game and leave a clever message on one of these blogs, I'll be checking. If I hear nothing in these three mediums, then by my mother's birthday, all of my stuff will be forever removed and totally destroyed forever, as I don't need these games, and I refuse to play them any more, Robot Holly.

We are going to be going back into the last several years of the sixties and then begin the seventies, and open up some real worm cans about my first encounters with the LAMIST BRIGGBASE CULT in Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG, as well as discuss the three men who all died of cancer right around the same time in 1973, Al Soifer, Bob Pincus, and Sigmund Malyeska. Why would a boy in his early fucking teens, be being followed around, locally as well as in other towns and cities away from his residence, by strange groups of young persons that were in no way average in appearance for those times, that is to say, none were hippie style or type, no long hair, no beads, the whole deal of the counterculture of those times, it was non existent and had nothing whatsoever to do with whoever and 'whatever' I was dealing with when all of this was getting an evil foothold on and around me. We will even work our way eventually into one single young lady who was a flower girl by all standards, and this would be the recording artist, Melanie Safka, from Queens, New York as well as Northern New Jersey across the river and in that nearby area out outside of the city. The big APPLE, interesting choice of a description, it is big, that is not particularly of consequence, but you know, Adam, Eve, the Snake named Satan, the garden, should I go on, Lieutenant Van Buren Sampson Shangrala. WOW, is Spell checker a worthless item anymore so it seems, not seemingly knowing a thing about that other garden type of place either nor how to correctly spell the fucking thing. What I'll be doing for a few days is wrapping this all up and telling some powerful final things that will blow society totally away eventually, unless it gets sanitized and removed once I'm dead and gone. Then I plan to OD on my meds and just do a Paula Weston L&O. I don't need to stay here and be a fool or play silly teenaged games. To answer someone's query, the 1980 song that was ripping my “LOST LOVE” song off, was called, “HELP ME”, sung by Robin Gibb and Marcy Levy. Wouldn't it be the ultimate irony, if the Marcy at the Camden Medical Institute back in 1982, two years later, was the same Marcy. I doubt it for two reasons, first, there are a hell of a lot of peeps named Marcy. Also, most people in the entertainment industry are considerably younger than this woman about my age now or perhaps a little bit younger. In any event, all kinds of wild people popped up and said strange things to me, followed me around, it was out of the Twilight Zone television show. This is all a big game to these travelers or advanced TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS of the collective called, EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND, existing as a powerful political type of force on the Astral Realm or Plane, just outside the great city of Sahasra Dal Kanwal, across the Teck Bay, not far from where Gawky Gaukauk has high honor tenure in a giant mystery school, called the TECK BAY MYSTERY SCHOOL OF PROVINCE OLYMPIA. I'm going to take a stab in the dark and say something here, if I am wrong, then I am wrong. Things have happened to me between the years of 2006 and 2011 that tell me that at one time, and on varying levels and degrees, the great Scylla Goddess, also known as SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, watched over me and seemed to recognize that my motives were honest and pure, and that I was only attempting to get to the bottom of all of this incredible stuff in my waking physical and material and caporial existence, or my life. Someone has been working on her to slowly change her mind about me. I believe it is my arch enemy who wants to be the back door President of my country, and I have, all though it is not up to court legal standards perhaps, it proves what I say, and I once had a lot more, back in New Jersey. Of course, that is gone with the four winds, Tara O'Hara. This arrogant mirror kissing fool thinks everybody loves him. People all around the world think he's a sick pathetic joke, but he is a lot more than that. He managed to pull a gargantuan cosmic trick off, and used me, in 1979, to do it. Five years later in 1984, I rued the day that I ever messed around with my first tape recorder as a small child. But I do plan to send the White House and my pal Barack, a little bit of damming information about all this. It may not stand up in court, but it is powerful enough to be used in other ways, and will totally ensure that Obama wins reelection. Again, the one loose end is SSJKK remembering a few events in her life long ago, and be willing to substantiate it if and when necessary, to some very powerful Washington peeps. I know in her human form, she wants him to get reelected as bad as I do. All the White House Cabinet has to do, is legally subpena files about how all telephone activity was monitored in my entire life dating back into the middle sixties and then forward into the middle seventies when I first got a telephone in my own name in 1975 from Lindenwold, New Jersey. Once you know what I know, you can force Trump to stop all his dirty tactics against you, sir, and he will have no choice, because this bastard does not belong here, he goes beyond anyone's concept of an alien, I'll just therefore repeat myself, “He does not belong here”. You can be a total shoe-in, Mister President if you ever need to use this information, please do not let the agencies tell you differently, or try and discredit me. These things are all real and they all happened, and there was a real reason for it all, and that reason all had to do with this monster, DT. Just remember, if the election starts to go bad, and hopefully it will not, and you need to call on me, I will give you any and all details, but a powerful study and scrutiny of my many blogs, should also suffice even without me, but I'll gladly help you if you ever need me, mister President. Goddess bless you, sir. It is not Mitt I am against by the way, as I feel he is basically a decent fellow, not that I agree with all of his wealth-lover politics that all the big republicans share no matter what they say. It is just his connection to a nan so evil, that he ranks second only, to my son in law. This prick has tried to covertly kill me on ten occasions, and I feel he was responsible for what happened to my best friend as well as my mother. And sir, I really did know Andres as a teenager, before he ever came to Washington, seems this is my eternal destiny with so many people.  

 

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