SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0509

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0509

KING NEBNOOSHOO CYCLING OUT

2:14 PM, SATURDAY, 11, AUGUST, 2K12

NO SUBTITLES

STARTING:

Some reading this, know about what happened at Cifaloglio one night midway into the twenty-ohs. For those who don't, it involved my seeing something that the rational mind cannot make a lot of sense out of. I was wide awake, I do not have hallucinations. I will tell you what happened on this night, at my place of employment.

I was a weekend security guard at this place. It was around one or so in the morning, I think it was a Sunday Morning. I do not tell this story to shock anyone, merely to say that all of this and a lot more stuff similar to this, is nothing whatsoever, next to the multitude of smaller incidents, not even of stuff visually seen, just the mass collection of unexplainable small little things, but put them all together, and a lot more than any powerful sky sighting jumps out at you like a thousand sore teeth, all throbbing in agony. A lot of people think this has become a blog about my daughter. My daughter is involved in the grand scheme of things, but this is not a blog about her. This merely enforces those many smaller incidents, such as some huge flying object that is most definitely not of this waking world, being way more powerful in a grand scheme of stuff. Probably without experiencing a lifetime of all of this, some or maybe all of you out here, would vehemently disagree with me and say the pulsar star incident was bigger than pants not going down to shoes at a proper length and many hundreds literally, of other such stories, that my blogs do tell about should you be willing to ever sift through all of them. The reason that the great intellect and egg head of the city of Egg Harbor in New Jersey, the great Terry, will never be happy the way these blogs are done, is all a part of this. For those who need reminding, this is or was a friend of Ann King's, and before I came to live with her and her daughter and son in law and the rest of this unspeakable wild clan, she came over to visit while I was there, and told me that I need to better organize my story, both in order of category as well as chronology. Those following Morianity for any length of time, know that this is totally a laughable concept, beyond the reach and grasp of even great mental giants such as Albert Einstein or Steven Hawking or Carl Sagan. If they could do this, my hat would be not only off to them in public, but I swear to all that is holy and unholy, that the hat of the Lamist that summer day in 1969, would be off to them as well, if I had to physically go back through time, grab it off this man's head, and then do a real 'Mission Impossible' or perhaps in all my glory and copyrights, do an original real life non singing version of Lois Foca with the dam hat. It is not the few big things that make me know that I'm not nuts or deluded, it is instead, the gargantuan number of small things, not really that small as they all unfolded one by one, but small next to what I'll tell now about that night at Cifaloglio. Something was strange about this location, as I died here, and almost died here on another occasion, and saw numerous amazing spectacles such as the western horizon turn daylight bright for a full minute around 3 AM one morning with a brilliant white illumination that has no explanation based on human reasoning, all though I am of the belief system that our military is one and the same with an advanced traveling military that has no actual base in chronological order, making poor Terry double mad and aggravated, but that is just the way it is, sweetheart. All that I mean to say is that I am a for the most part, an agree-er with Doctor Bruce Goldberg, and to understand this, you would need to purchase and read his great nineties book, called, “Time Travelers From Our Future”, that is available on and off line all over wherever books are sold. While you are getting that book, please in the name of the sweet gods, also purchase the one from my great New Jersey friend, also a resident of Egg Harbor and who in my life these days does not have a major Egg Harbor City connection I'm left to presume and ponder, the name of it will make you put two and two together on the recent topic of museum secrets, it is called, “Secrets of the Museum”, by Roy Carl Weiler Senior. Again, this should be available on or off line at many outlet locations. You have to know my story, and then you have to play a little Sherlock Holmes, and really cleverly read in-between the lines, but that is where the real fun in life is hiding. Those surface living folks like sir Paul, well, that is fine for those who like it that way, I cold not live that way for one hour, as in my personal predicament, I would have been buried six feet under a very long time ago, doing it that way. Now, the night in question at Cifaloglio, I was in my car doing guard duty, and began to hear the sound of a helicopter, which I was used to, as when I am being persecuted with aerial harassment, they are used frequently when the WOMO deems it fit to do so for reasons that only they understand and know. This was a very very big bird, it seemed to me to be the biggest one I ever saw, but not ridiculous, still, for a bird that size, the sound should have shaken the entire facility down to its foundations at the low level that it was flying that night, and it was merely recognizable, sort of making the sound level in decibels as would perhaps a small private quiet type. There was no rapper bass thump to it at all, but it did make the rotor blade sound, almost as if it was a recording being played and the actual bird was totally silent, it just gave this impression, and this is not what I claim happened. On top of that, it was dark, a few lights were out along the walls of the plant, and I had been reporting it week after week on my security logbook. This darker than usual condition, really brought out the strange lights that this bird was emitting. It had numerous beautiful colors that strobed a little, nothing like a seventies disco, but it was intermittent. I've seen other choppers at night with lights, and even a little bit of color, but this was as though it was intentionally made up and heading to the North Pole to visit Santa Claus or something, I mean this was totally a Dairy Queen operation, as far as I was concerned. But what happened after it flew over me and my vehicle was way beyond Dairy queen and Kate and absurd times ten to the power of fifty. I was the only person there, no drivers or plant or garage workers were on the property. As soon as it came over, I was just getting out of my car as I was going to walk around and do a routine check of the place, so it was sort of a simultaneous deal of me exiting my car and this bird that I was hearing for perhaps ten or fifteen seconds, flying over me dead zenith perfect. When I was out of the car, the thing came to a full stop directly over me and hovered, brilliantly and menacingly. This would have put goose bumps and chills, to quote Donna Summer as a teenager, up anybody's spine. Here I am all by myself, and here is this monster thing right above me for no good reason. After a full minute, it flew on past me leaving me there staring at it. I don't carry photographic equipment to this day, and I know I should with my weird freaking life. Just the sighting, if posted to my YT account, would have gone totally friggin' viral, or if it didn't it would prove my Colaman situation, for those reading Mountainpen for at least three months now, who know what is going on, and maybe even know some of the things that match up to PCN-770, but for right now, Donna, that is neither HAIR not there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please stop scanning me so much, it is getting really really annoying. Thank You. So getting back on point folks, I watched this big bird fly over the warehouse or transfer station as they called it, basically where the trucks emptied non recyclable trash into, and also where SARAH made her great appearance after my fatal heart attack, all on prior blogs, under the URL of 'drunkenhive'. After it cleared over this structure by not all that much airspace, it climbed a little slowly, and moved on, northbound, straight over directly towards the town where I lived, Hammonton, New Jersey. When it got to where this area would approximately be in my opinion, it stopped again and I kept staring at it for many minutes. Then I got the real mind blowing experience of the entire deal folks. This craft was suddenly, the pulsar star, that we all see in the night sky on many nights. It followed an orbit up and around towards my front, and after the dawn broke later on, it was right in front of me, and it was THIS PULSAR STAR, ALL ALONG. Now we all know that when I saw it over me as a lit up wild huge helicopter, the question beggars the imagination that, where was this great pulsating star at that time? It wasn't where the helicopter came to a stop in the distant sky, as I always observe the sky well and notice all the things that should and should not be there, at least, to my best judgment that I'll openly admit, is at times over the past ten-twenty years now, on some amount of life support. Still, this happened, and yes, many possible things can explain it, but why am I so dam important, that stuff keeps happening to me? Come on folks, all the stuff, all the people, all the things, you know what's getting said here. As an old ex-pal used to say a lot to me, “Let's not be ignorant”. Some power structures know quite well that I have been repeating my life as Mark Wayne Mohr for more than two hundred times, exactly why is unknown, but that it is extremely complicated, and for obvious reasons, can never really be fully openly examined as too much name recognition is involved allover the place, and that as well, is no coincidence either. As Jim Rockford knows only too well with a mouth of busted up teeth, we can always get back to this. So count on it, but for right now, it is done for this days' blog work. There is so much more to the entire deal with SARAH and all of this since the sixties, and how it effects both me and the UFO phenomenon, no matter how any of you personally choose to create personal belief systems with. My situation is so beyond anything anywhere in the world, that people refuse to entertain the remote possibility of anything beyond, Mountainpen is totally insane but fun to freaking read. Fine, I know two things however. This attitude won't really hurt me, but it might end up having real disastrous effects on you and your offspring, because as great as things and folks such as Alex Jones and the Conspiracy fighters and so forth are all a part of, it is a fight that cannot be won without having all or at least a large majority of the facts, and many of these facts are simply not known in 2012, not even by billionaires and Builderberger Club members and Masons with 33 degrees, and secret Bohemian Groves, and all of it. Folks love to shoot off their mouth abnd even write and publish books claiming how they can travel around. Well, ask them to check out the Copyright Office and me, and compare my life with any one of them, and as Dave Roth used to say it so well back in the late eighties and early nineties, it would be no contest. You cannot put my story into order, because there is no order. You live in a forced time continuum, this means one second after the other, I don't, and that's gospel, and that's why there is no way to put it in order, when there is no order. There are no answers either. How can there be answers when there is no future. There is no one future and even one past, just one infinite point of truth, from which, your awake brain does a marvelous thing in ways the top neurologists don't yet comprehend. A brain is a system that connects senses up to waves and particles, and before you become aware each 400^th of a minute to the point you exist at, it divides reality by the speed of light squared, creating the ultimate game-on interactive, VR system, human life, being awake, or 'whatever', Congressman, sir. Now as I said, my mom's story is like heaven, it can wait. We'll continue it on the next blog, SJ-CH-0510. My message to all folks between 003 and 00... is this. Examine everything you hear in your mind very carefully for a long time, and also, remember back a while. Now reread the last 50-100 blogs, even speed-read through them, and you'll get a mind blowing experience, I promise you that.

The world is in a very interesting crossroad situation right now. It won't be al that long before people say, oh yes, Mountainpen said that back on August freaking eleventh. I could talk about the increased negative delay and many things related to it, but this blog will not be an ear bender. I am tired and want to just relax with some afternoon television. Driving the car of your life, now here is a topic that the entire United States Copyright Office can relate too well. All the money in the world, does not allow this, merely the illusion of it. Make total book on those words, with or without any Shorty MacInvondi tidal waves or nasty casino personnel of 1984, Mister Kean. All the experts agree that random is true reality, that numbers can never tell a meaningful story, it is like grabbing a video tape out of a video library, and then some connection to it will be on live TV. Yes, we all force dots to connect some of the time, but not all of the time. The brain indeed is wired to put stuff into some pattern order and even see things in orders that may not be exactly there, but I am here to proclaim one powerful gigantic truth, and if you don't wanna' believe me, then you won't. There is an exploratron. I thought I met him in 1977 and again in 1980, in powerful vivid dreams. I did. But things got changed and altered, and now, I knew him earlier than that. Also, this particular exploratron has as we all do, virtually unlimited lives in the vast hyperspace, and also exists in the Phase-2 reality or the subatomic Astral Plane. His astral-name is Gawky Gaukauk. Don't laugh, and don't think this is nuts, it is not. It is real. I cannot force a soul to believe me, but I can promise the entire world this one thing: If you practice the numerological system that he gave to me in a powerful 1980 exploratronic experience, you would say A DREAM, you will know it is all totally real, and also, you will know that you van indeed categorize anything at all with no exceptions, into 81 possible truths for a lack of better way to say this. These 81 truths are numbers or GAWNUM ROOTS from 11-99 with no zeros. There is a way to match up things and it has all been given on prior blogs, and you should be able to access this by searching the word GAWNUM on the Googler, unless it is all sanitized. Let me tell you just how owned all of this computer internet really is. Many peeps have told things about me that really verify stuff, these posts have all disappeared into the magic fogs of Steve King of Littletall, hay buddy, make up your mind, we all know the Phillies won 26 days in the future, even though it took them freaking 28 years KAL, nightmares, McGuire wormholes and all, folks. Well, let me sign off and you just enjoy reading these words, it might just alter some lives, if not now, later, or a lot later.

If you think my motives for all of this are anything beyond getting at the truth about why I have gone through this horrible time loop for more than 8000 years, '1100', you've misjudged. That is all I ever am after, getting at the truth, if you know more of it while awake, maybe it would not pain you too much to share that with me. Trillions of dollars are meaningless to me, I just want to get out of here. I'll tell you who will confirm that for you even though he most likely hates my guts, and that is PP. He is listed in Hammonton. You can see why I believe this entire thing is a binary program, if you are SSJKK and I know you are, then adding the binary number, and we get, Mizz Volvo and whatever she wanted to tell me late in '89. You cannot beat the mathematics, but you know that, I can tell you nothing at all you don't all ready know. Weiler's old girlfriend tells me you have used the Gawnum on several occasions, I am happy for you. Maybe you should think about a clever way of letting that part of the nightmare out to the world, BEG.

Have a great day, LLLL. I'll be bahk, Arnie. Don't terminate yet.

ENDING, WHAAAAAAAAAAAA!