SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0510
KING
NEBNOOSHOO 2010-2012 --- RIP (RUST IN PISS)
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2295 --- RIP (RUST IN PISS)
NO
MORE KING NEBNOOSHOO OR WORLD LABORATORIES
It's
half past four PM, on Sunday, on August 12, in 2012:
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME
MORIANTY-PROJECT
CONTINUES FROM 1995 PAPES
BEGINNING
THE BLOG:
NO
MORE BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOURS
DIANA,
MY LOVELY BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING GODDESS,
WHERE ARE YOU, ARE YOU EVER GOING TO COME OVER AND SEE ME AGAIN, MY
BABY BLOND? YOU KNOW HOW TERRIBLY BAD I NEED AND LOVE YOU, MY LOVELY
TALL QUEEN QUEEN. SO P-L-E-A-S-E VISIT ME WITH YOUR BEAUTIFUL COLORS,
AND STAY WITH ME, AS I REALLY NEED YOU. WE SURE HAD A WONDERFUL TIME
LAST NIGHT IN AKOSLEM CITY, W---O---W!!!!!!
My
neighbors are around and busy, but behaving so far today as far as
being a lot quieter. I don't care if they go in and out five thousand
friggin' times, as long as don't give me a fatal heart attack with
sudden shocking loud slams and shouts and illegal levels of noise.
My
mom's story will continue from where it left off on the next blog,
Chapter #0511. This blog will not be real long.
I
had reasons for telling about the sighting at Cifaloglio on my last
blog, for a lot of things that were said, as some may have put
together. Still, Diana did in fact tell me last night in-between wild
passionate love making sessions, that the part of her that is
Sarah-Stacey Krassle, is angry at me, and does not want me to use the
internet for saying and doing so much that is slowly exposing
powerful secrets. Sorry SSJKK my teen queen endless Brown Eyed Girl.
I do tend to get quite carried away from time to time, but try and
understand that the family took away, what little I had. A had a
super monster entertainment system and could record all of my own
music rather than need to pay someone else an hourly rate at a
studio. I had a large television set that I bought back in 1995, and
Ann King to this very day is still enjoying it, while I'm down here
in a ghetto roach building with a little twenty inch piece of crap.
All my thousands of cassettes, and open reel tapes, gone forever,
also gone forever, are all the picture photos of my immediate family
and parents. So don't any of you righteous wealthy bastards go
getting a high and mighty attitude with me, you all totally mother
fucking wrecked and destroyed what little I had in life, and put me
down here in hell. It's not like I had a choice. I either would run
away into destiny that night, or be literally murdered by Dawn-Marie
King. You think that any of the authorities care about doing their
jobs, and making things right and allowing me any restitution or
justice? Let's not be ignorant. I had tons and tons of very important
things, now all gone and lost, and why, just to allow an endless
sixteen year old to enjoy playing with her favorite doll toy, the
mountainpen. So world, if I get a little angry and frustrated at
things from time to time, try and be just a little fucking bit
understanding OK?????????????????TANKS!!!!!!!
Let us move this along now. First, I ready do hope and pray that you'll all get those two books, Time Travelers From Our Future, as well as, Secrets From The Museum. As for the nine-digit-box, I've decided not to pursue this lesson and amazing knowledge, for the time being. Perhaps I will later on when I feel things are more suited for this to be done.
A
lot of folks wonder how anyone could be born a real normal human
baby, and end up in just over twenty years, experiencing things such
as meeting magic black cats that know lottery numbers, and
numerological prediction tools that can pretty much answer with
accuracy, anything asked of it. Stop wondering, this is when you need
to hold true to your beliefs that anything, within some reason and
limitations inside the natural order of things, can indeed happen,
and even does, all over the world, from time to time.
Remember
the goddess who stood two heads taller than the rest of the adult
average population, on the Atlantic City beach back in the summer of
2009 at the Hilton Beach, when I was with Ann King, and she and her
boyfriend just vanished, but before that, ann claimed that I vanished
for a few minutes, when I know fully well that I was wading in the
shallow ocean water directly in front of where she sat in her beach
chair, not forty yards away. I choose this one out of 1000 things I
could pick at total random, things like going into a job site in
Pennsauken, New Jersey late in 1988 somewhere, and wearing my
security guard uniform that somehow when my mom over machine dried it
all wrong, following her washing it, and made the pant legs end up
several inches too short for even my shrimpy size. If I have to
invent the fucking word of 'shrimpy', so be it, Poor Mountainpen
Richard Lightning Loops Coaster Franklin-78. Watch out over your
heads, Leo Quiggley, Jerry Brown, and Linda Achilles Ronstadt. Spell
Checker never even heard of the name of Quiggley, WOW, 'amazing', huh
mom and granny. Yes for those who never read or have no time to
archive the old blog story, I told mom the pants don't even go down
to my shoes, and when I got to work, I was a location that was really
dark, with no way that anyone could see my pants or my shoes, yet a
vehicle with some trouble maker types, males in their very early
twenties and quite rowdy, blaring a Donna Summer recording on their
car stereo system, and one dude said to me after rolling down his
window, “Your pants don't go all the way down to your shoes”, the
precise statement that I made inside of a supposedly private home,
eight miles and two hours away in space and time, to my mom. Only
those like Alex Jones know why these things are done, and of course,
probably exactly how they are as well, even as far back as late in
the eighties, but this brings me to the point of today's blog, since
it is pertinent in several ways, and not just in what I'll be
discussing first here.
Orwell
and his 1984 book from quite a few years before 1984, was a powerful
item of much public as well as private discussion, until 1984 came
and went, Nissan-19. Remember folks, and I've said freaking this over
and over, NOTHING
gets past me!!!!!!!!!!
I may pretend it does and just keep my powerball monster ass mouth
shut, but things do not get past me, not often. The rare occasion
where this exception to the rule does indeed occur, is when an
outside source and force, such as this wonderful special powerful
unexplainable family with roots all over South America, Africa,
Ireland, and even many ocean islands, is all tied up and involved
with it. Then really POWERFUL
MEMORY LOSSES have
been known to occur along the lines of abductions, missing time, and
the whole twenty-seven feet, as the saying goes, remixed a little bit
by me, for posterity and with permission from a poetic license as a
writer/blogger, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
OH SHIT folks, we
must always remember that when shipping by sea, any cow manure, in
crates, as was done in the early days of shipping, mark your crates
accordingly. These need to be marked Ship High In Transport, and
usually, the initials were hurriedly scratched onto these big crates,
but you do not want these to get wet and be stuck with that condition
out at sea of an extended period of rime,
WOW. My
pal, and recording engineer over at Bonjovi's Florida Studio, the
Avalon, it's on the internet, check it out, and go there, I am a very
happy and satisfied customer over nearly two years now, but he taught
me this. Amazing, because my mom should have had access to this
little morsel of information, being in the shipping industry all of
her darn life. Still, that is not where I learned about needing
permission from the KING to fornicate. Fornication Upon Consent of
King (FUCK) hay peeps, everything has to originate from somewhere and
something, we all are related to each other, no matter what belief
system we may hold to, there had to be a time when there was one male
and one female human being on this planet, or if not, then what? DUH,
let me sign off and go back to 2006 now, watch HSM, put stuff
together quicker this time so I won't be TOO LATE, and maybe, just
maybe, even buy myself a brand new frickin' Hyundai automobile. I can
always fly through a couple of timetrails, and say high to Sarah
Krassle's brother, you know, with the very loud stereo system, living
in Pomona, back in 1976. My mom's Media Apartment probably would have
kept poor Malinda Gordon busy and active for years, I know I felt it
there too, just as I felt it back in Philly at Center City at the
2041 Chestnut Street building, in apartment 24-A. Exploratrons got
into me and made me chuck a mountain of dirt inside the window of a
mans apartment, named Clayton, for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I
really liked the man, and to this day, my guilt over doing this
horrendous thing, eats me alive. I have done many many things, toy
done';t need to bust my chop McGuire, you're not perfect, I'm not
perfect, Bruce is not perfect, even my daughter admits in late 2009
that she is an imperfect angel, so what can any of us really do,
YO????????????????????????
WOW.
OK
good folks, it is a quarter shy of seven on this Sunday friggin'
night, and time for me to relax and watch what is left of shitty
television programming, or maybe I'll just throw in a dam DVD. Maybe
I'll watch the 2009 movie with my lovely daughter and the stair
chase, there really is precious little stuff left to enjoy on TV.
ENDING
THE
BLOG!!!!!!!!!
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