SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0511
5:51
PM, AUGUST 13, 2012, MONDAY
STARTING
BLOG:
HELLO
WORLD, I AM BEING MOTHER FUCKING PERSECUTED TO DEATH TODAY BY MY
NOISY DIRT BAG ACROSS THE HALL UNCOUTH FRIGGIN' NEIGHBORS, BUT I KNOW
WHY, AND MY WONDERFUL MAGICAL BLACK KITTY CAT CONFIRMED WHAT I ALL
READY KNEW WITH SOME GAWNUM
QUERIES.
THESE NOISY MOTHER FUCKERS HAVE BEEN SHOUTING IN THE HALLS AND
SLAMMING DOORS ALL FUCKING DAY LONG, BUT SHIT BEGAN BEFORE THIS VERY
EARLY THIS MORNING.
A
major long lasting FIRE ALARM attack struck around eight give or
take, it was quite horrendous. I have been lucky lately, and have not
had any, then when one comes suddenly out of the fucking blue, POW
and WOW, it is major ass murder to deal and cope with folks.
FOR
DECADES AND DECADES, A TREND HAS BEEN UNMISTAKABLE, AND ANYONE
KNOWING OR SEEING IT AROUND ME FOR ALL THESE YEARS, WHO COULD ARGUE
WITH ME THAT IT IS JUST SIMPLE PARANOIA ON MY PART, WOULD BE THE ONES
IN DENIAL, AND HAVE THEIR OWN PSYCHOLOGICAL ISSUES TO ADDRESS, SINCE
THERE IS NO MISSING THESE CONTINUAL TRIGGERS FOR MY ATTACKS,
RELENTLESSLY, OVER NEARLY 30 YEARS GIVE OR TAKE NOW
FOLK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My
mom's story will have to wait, still another blog chapter, as I am
under a major death attack. The sky had some poinson in it earlier
this morning, minor, but there, and there is so much to say and tell,
there simply is nowhere near enopugh time to ever get is said todfay,
so we must carefully section stuff up and tell just the biggest and
most urgent highlaights for right now on this early friggin' evening
of hellfire that is totally fucking unquenchable.
I
will first tell you what the great cat and I discussed an hour or so
ago, and his answers to y queries, and then tell a few things that
wilol tie in my askung him these questions, as well as why I am
whaled on and chewed to pieces today, by twenty Great Whites,
simultaneously, at sea squared, with or without any of the frikkin'
red lobsters swimming around.
The
real story here all begins around ten at night last freaking night
good people. Some of this is real real major.
Really, folks, I said major, abnd I mean freaking ass
MAJOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I got sleepy as all get the crap out around just past ten, as you
might know by now, I think the recent television line up on the cable
system totally bites and chews Big White Style, and plan to save
money by cancelling my Comcast, getting one of those new thirty
dollar internet private services, no more television, just videos,
and even cancel my landline and try this shit we all ear on the ads
about Magic Jack, so instead of spending a monthly outgo fee between
all my services of around just under two bills, a quarter of it can
be spent and three quarters saved, leaving me about a buck and
seventy to put in my pocket each month, allowing me to do quarterly
projects over at Avalon Studio, as well as finish paying off the bill
there for my newest project, a song called, “YOU'LL BE CROSSING
OVER”, COPYRIGHT MARK WAYNE MOHR, 1983-2012, NEW RE-WRITE LYRICAL
CONTENT AND OLD BASIC MUSIC JUST REARRANGED AND ALTERED SLIGHTLY.
Since WOMO MILITUFORCE ENEMIES want to endlessly make my life a
fucking living hell with endless monstrous viscous punishment, then
I'll keep doing the one thing that I enjoy, and they hate me enjoying
any fucking ass thing, and that is what else, but,
MUSIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Like, DUH, Hyundai High School Musicals of 2006 and let's not forget
TIMETUBETRAILS of the lovely fucking stratosphere, and the secret
biblical powers of the air, or the King James Biblical Version (KJV)
of “spiritual wickedness in high places”, WOW, is anyone ever
gonna' catch on to the parables and see as does Alex Jones, that
everyone with a net worth of under five mill, within fifty years,
will be totally EXTERMINATED
from PLANET FUCKING
EARTH, or are
all of you really this fucking totally DUMBED DOWN TO HELL,
YO?????????????????????????? USS, not USA folks. It stands for
nothing other than the Ultimate Sheeple Syndrome and THAT sir
ROCKDROID is indeed the crushed Kirk equation, watch out you lizard
salesmen with your stupid Mellon smashing butt wipe TV spots. One
totally dorky stupid commercial after another, and I will drive
illegally, before I purchase your crummy fucking automobile fucking
ass insurance, so make fucking total book on that one, YO!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes before I get into the previous night, or my discussions with the
great cat a while ago today, let me finish bnow where my ever growing
fucking dementia cut me off on the blog where I began discussing
Orwell and his fantastic literary work about the year of the death of
freedom, or 1984, and how when it did come around, we all went along
just as if nothing was changed or happening. We never realized or
appreciated just how much we all had, or how good things were even
thenm, compared to now, here in the states, even the world in
general. It was in a long process of planned controlled falling
apart, sure, but we still had a few years left in the subshibne to go
out and kick the ball around and drink our lemonade on the front
porch without wondering if the giant trail above us was going to seep
into the dam thing and make us sick and cough and wheeze and not be
able to make it into our jobs the next day so we can properly fucking
feed our starving families, YO. Yet trying to alter what happened
with Exploratronic activity or other great 'MY' type parlor tricks,
just is too dangerous, as it seems to only make things endlessly
worse, and never better, just as the great Swami Solomon of RPL put
this quite a while back, over three decades now as a matter of fact,
Sir Elton, and I am no bitch, sir, just here telling it straight and
true, BRO!!!!!!!!!!! This is what my song lyrics tried to
exploratronically explain, and hopefully change things and avoid the
upcoming hell of all of us becoming numbers, and human experience on
the start of its ultimate and destined death journey, into the cyborg
reality of future horrific times. Well, that future is now all ready
here, Mister 1984 Orwell, sir, so imagine that, WOW. Things tend to
get predicted like the coming of the Sar Christ, or Orwell and the
death of personal freedom unless you are a 5% world owner with 95% of
the control, which slowly will whittle down to a lot bigger than even
99 and 1. There might be a few thousand, TOPS, of families that get
to remain on Earth, and studying Biblical prophecy really amazes me
that nobody put these accurate time traveling prophets predictions
together yet. It discusses these that remain on the Earth, only the
translation is that those that leave it are in heaven, yeah in heaven
all right, dumped into the vacuum of radiation and icy cold minus six
hundred degree radiated space out past our planet's magnetosphere.
Only the privileged power people, the great owners, will stay here in
a utopia, to rule and live in their own sick new stinky rotten
culture, I'd rather be floating dead in space any day personally,
then be here with these sick pig capitalist swine mother fuckers who
literally feed of causing pain and agony and misery to the tiny frail
poor helpless folks all around them, or US.
Well,
1984 and Orwell is all part of my song from 1983, called, “GIRL,
I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING”, ©. There is no one past and there is no
one future, and as our world becomes recreated every 400th
of a minute with Space-Time-Mind, and the connections from the sixth
dimension or the Mental Realm that move onto the brains of humans and
create a conscious waking world for them by dividing the true reality
around them by C-Squared at each point of instant, so we can all
think we are interacting in this material and tangible caporial life
and surrounding, when really, it is all just a large magnetic force,
and objects are not real at all, or are we. Bang your head against a
brick wall, and really, you are striking a powerful field of
electromagnetic energy that is much more powerful in gauss energy
than what is seemingly holding your skull together, still, it is all
a parlor trick, an elaborate one yes, but a great trick from the
realm of the D-6, Eckankar, the great religion of sight and sound,
calls this condition interaction by the labeling of, the “Mental
Plane”, call it whatever you like, or ignore and disbelieve its
existence entirely, but it is why we live inside this huge
mega-illusion here in 5th
dimensional hyperspace, or inside this wondrous and marvelous
multiverse. There's nothing whatsoever one bit different, magical, or
even mentally screwed up, about me, from any one of you ,no matter
what you may insist on thinking and believing, other than becoming
totally aware of this stuff as absolutely the truth. If you suddenly
could see tiny germs all over because your close vision mysteriously
just suddenly got a thousand times better, the only difference
between you and others is that you know that this is all around you,
and all others need assistance from gadgets like electron microscopes
to properly interact with it, and in every day routine daily life,
you would be forever different than others, seemingly, but really,
you would not be different at all, as those germs are always there,
all around you. Yes those words from “GITYA” are not some little
crazy or insignificant words, they tell truths in power and magnitude
that would blow your dam socks right off, if you were enlightened
enough to be able to see what is being told. So, now I've changed it
into a song about a greedy fisherman, and have had dmy dayughter sing
the harmony track in 1984. This in quantum reality, is both truth and
a lie. Technology allows me to take a recording I have, just a
speaking voice, and then pitch it to a harmony track on this rewrite
musical work, here in 2012. It is like seeing a wheel go around so
fast, that the spot of paint marked onto one little part of it, is in
quantum flux to your point of limited observation. It is everywhere
to you, but as the wheel slows down, it is in many places, then fewer
places, and eventuality when the wheel comes to a full resting stop,
the black mark on the wheel will show one quantum reality, observed
at one place in your observed space. Still, speeding this up in ratio
to your 400 IPM consciousness personality, or beingness as an entity
here on the Planet Earth, will alter any possible way for you to know
just where this painted small dot is on that wheel. This is a
beginners lesson, in merging the present Quantum Dynamics with
Space-Time-Mind formula, as will indeed happen in many surviving
universes, late in this, and early into the following century. I have
seen it and been there, I should know, I have been as far as the year
3000, this was back when I physically was living in the early
nineties on route 561, at the home owned by the mother of a New
Jersey State police Officer at the 'time', named Meeker.
OK,
let's discuss my powerful exploratronic experience last night. My
older daughter and myself and some friends of hers were all at some
diner or restaurant, and no one else was there. Then she told me we
were all going to visit my Hopkins Lane school to see what we could
learn about me. As I opened the door for her and a couple of her
girlfriends, it seemed to open in a reverse way, and they had to duck
underneath my hand and arm were I was holding it open for them, and
when we got outside, people were all yelling at a very beautiful
giant girl who I started to tell those who I was with, and I'll quote
what I said here, “I know her from school, it's Sarah Jacobson” I
no sooner said this, and they seemed to all be one and the same with
Sarah Jacobson and the three folks around nearby who were yelling
something at her. It seemed that she had picked an automobile up on
one side and flipped it over just because one of them called her some
curse word. I ran over, and could see a bumper sticker ion the car,
and it was a political ad spot for the re-election of Richard Nixon.
I came to learn it was middle or possibly late in November, and at my
age, common sense tells me it was 1972. Then Nixon himself seemed to
just pop up and he shook my hand very heavily, and was congratulating
me, and I was totally clueless as to what I was being so vigorously
congratulated over, but just had to go along with it. Then the
Secretary of Defense came over also out of nowhere, Mister McNamara,
and told me that by successfully working out the formulas for STM, I
had saved the Jews from being slaughtered years ago, and that all the
horrors of World war Two had never happened in this parallel universe
where we all were. Then we suddenly were all at my school, and along
came Mister Marcucci, Misses Marola, and Mister Garrigan. They too
were all shaking my hand and wishing me well. Then Misses Marola said
tio me, and I quote, “Now are you glad I made you come in on your
holiday morning, and do that school play, Mark”? I turned to my
oldest daughter, and she broke out laughing, even dropping down to
the floor rolling around to the point wherwe I became embarrassed.
Then she got up and said, and again, I'll quote her, “Mark and his
blogs, maybe we need to tell him that Jason is really is great great
grandson who came back here just to try this experiment with us”.
Instantly I awoke out of this, DREAM as you would call it, and I knew
I had been in something huge but for the life of me remembered a
total blank. Then right shy of eleven, after being awake about ten
minutes, POW, I remembered the entire thing in one big jolt boom bang
crash. I knew the following day, after a wild interaction like this,
and especially with my great daughter, that I'd be pummeled and
reamed, and WOW folks, I sure was, JEESE LOUISE, SURFER FONTY LIQUOR
LICENSE THING MCCOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
After
the assault on me all day,
and before I started this blog, here is what I asked the great cat,
GAWKY
GAUKAUK,
and what he answered me back:
Gawky,
kitty kitty, Why did the horrendous neighborhood attack strike me all
day, first with a piercing fire alar, and then all day long with my
lewd crude obnoxious neighbors?
Mark,
meow meow, PCN-918. Translation to waking world, here are some of my
more important matchbook listings for this private cosmically-coded
number or (PCN).
June
four, nineteen eighty three, Washcloth, Lightning.
It
seems good folks, that until the “You'll Be Crossing Over” song
is posted to my YOUTUBE ACCOUNT, things will continue to be ugly.
Then who knows, they could even get far uglier for me, after I post
it up. Who the hell am I, Goddess All Mighty Scylla?
Then
I asked why I had suddenly fallen so deathly sleepy just past ten and
fell into that wild sleeping and dreaming interaction last night, and
here is what GAGA said back to me, giving me PCN-396.
DISTRICT
OF COLUMBIA----IS AN ANGEL----DIE----LAW----OIL----BUM----BURNED 'THE
BOOK OF BEACH'----CAN----MAD----RIPPED OFF 'LOST LOVE'
SONG----HARBORFIELDS----OVER THE RADAR----OVER THE RIVER----POTATO
TEACUP----.
There
is so much to tell, it would take me ten hours just to fucking
scratch the dam surface, Lads, Lassies, Labbers, and Labrador
Retriever Dogs (LLLL). So for right now, I will bring this rotten
lousy stinky blog to an end, but Arnie Muscles, please know this
quite well.
I'LL
BE BAHK, SIR!
******ENDING
BWOG FOLKS AND WABBITS, WHAAAAAAAA******
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