SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0516
SUPER
MOTHER FUCKING BOTBAR DAY
FRIDAY,
AUGUST 17, 2012
4:06
AM-EASTERN DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
STARTING
THE BLOG:
I
JUST HAD A MAJOR EXPERIENCE, BUT EXPLORATRONS ARE ALL AROUND,
SNEAKING AROUND IN THE HALLWAY OUTSIDE MY DOOR ALL NIGHT LONG NOW
SINCE LAST NIGHT, AND I KNOW IT IS ALL SOMEHOW CONNECTED, MY LIFE IS
IN MAJOR TERRIBLE MOTHER FUCKING CUNT LAPPING ASS
DANGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HERE IS WHAT
IS GOING ON. Really, peeps, or nabes, are sneaking around, but
indwelling them covertly, are what are known as
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
EXPLORATRONS
and my life is basically about to go from unfathomably bad to
inconceivably worse. Here is the situation, Inspector Louigee Kent
Henderson. I was watching the early morning airing of the single one
episode “Law & Order” television show on TNT
COMCAST CABLE TV FROM 3-4 AM, and
the area in New Jersey called, EAST ORANGE, was mentioned on this
1992 made episode. Suddenly, what happened four years after that
date, to me, punched into my conscious waking world mind and memory,
as if I had been directly struck with five thousand powerful bolts of
simultaneous lightning, only I was not that lucky. Instead, things
made total sense why the psychic by the name of PAULA UWICH from
GLENDORA, NEW JERSEY, did what she did, and was even in a magazine
delivered locally to my Somerdale neighborhood, advertising her
psychic services, it was all a ploy, and a gargantuan con game that
had planned for months and months, ever since my getting the
hypnotherapy at Mark wolf's Moorestown, New Jersey Medical Clinic
back in February, as this was now the month of September of that same
year, in 1996, just weeks after my moving into this horrible home at
the intersection of Harvard and Yale Avenues. These two URL addresses
will permit any archiving to information about to be given now, and
will be clear reading without type going all over the place, at my
blogger dot com website owned by the mighty GOOGLE
GODS of the INTERNET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
All
I can do is tell you what happened folks, and before I do, you need
some chronological order for once, yes Terry Harbor Egghead, a broken
fucking clock is correct for 59.999 seconds, 730 times each and every
year, so if you happen to get one right here and there, BRAVO,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This
is not going to be the easiest part of my many blogs that tell the
Morianity story, to wrap your heads around, the funny part of it, is
that those who are totally guilty of totally mother fucking ruining,
destroying, and obliterating my life, since I was a child, right to
this day at nearly age fifty-eight years; they know only too well
what the following words and story is saying and fucking telling. Yes
folks, we are talking about another thing that is mentioned with some
amount of repetition over the 22 years of their fantastic law show,
the great and illustrious infamous WARWICK PSYCHIC HOTLINE. Now,
there is no connection to this, and the Warwick Auto Sales, as Dion
is 100% African American and Everett Simpson is 100% Caucasian. Even
I recognize the occasional real honest coincidences in life. I am not
a paranoid nut, but I sound like one because I dare to report an
unspeakable life long crime that has been committed and perpetrated
against me by some beyond fantastic and totally demon evil force that
goes far beyond any of humankind's wildest concepts in their
religious ideas of a devil and a hell and all of that crap. When a
large full page ad was in a local newspaper that was hand delivered
to my newly occupied Somerdale, New Jersey home, in the end of summer
or the starting of autumn somewhere in 1996, showing a miracle
working psychic that would promise to locate anyone and prove her
awesome powers to anyone willing to trust her, I became more than a
mark, a pawn, a victim, or a pathetic love sick midlife crises struck
adult with a very serious problem. Little did I know that Dion and
all her friends, and friends of my daughter, planned this entire
thing, and this is how Paula appeared to know so much about Braxton
who called me two years or so later at my next residence at Guthrie
Shorts Manor in blue anchor at 231 South Route 73, but let me really
get specific. Paula said Sarah was in prison. Tommy's prison I am
guessing, only I lived in other universes where the first marriage of
my daughter took place within a few months after she signed at his
record label. As with the mysterious situation with Harry Callas the
sports announcer, I know he died once before, or he did in a place
where I did, and when I moved over to another universe after one of
my many retraces, he was living in the universe where I crossed into.
During the time this show today was on, all this was swirling around
in my brain, and I got mad as hell, and when I get mad at my old age,
I heat up way more than in my yopunger days. When I did not cool back
down, I went over to turn down my apartment air conditioning unit a
few degrees, and it was making a strange soft weird sound, and was
not functioning at all, at any setting. My making this huge quantum
observation around half past liquor license thing three, caused mne a
broken air conditioner. Now it has done this a few times before in my
approximately just short of sixteenth month stay at this place, and
then seems to reenergize itself magically and mysteriously, and a few
minutes ago, it did so again, and has been spitting old icy cold air
for five minutes. Still, I have set it lower than I normally do, by 7
degrees, it is on 71 right now, and I need to see if this is going to
need repair or not, as in my life, I am shown to be the fool many
times, because ki am fucking cunt dealing with a covert powerful UFO
and beyond type of an enemy that has the power to fuck shit up and
make it appear 100% totally busted, and then at its fucking cock
sucking whim, POW, it is fixed and fine, just as though nothing was
ever wrong in the first fucking place, again, to make me look like a
fool, to aggravate me, and to persecute me under this horrific
fucking endless and relentless HUNTINGTON
CURSE WITHOUT END, ETERNAL AS THE NIGHT SKIES. !!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS
HAS BEEN JUST ABOUT THE WORST TWO MOTHER FUCKING DAYS NOW IN MY
MOTHER FUCKING CUNT EATING LIFE; AUGUST 16 AND 17, WELL HERE WE CUNT
LAPPING ARE ALL OVER AGAIN YO, 1986, WITH ALL HELL BREAKING FUCKING
CUNT LOOSE, FOLLOWING THE 15TH DAY OF GOOD OLD REAL
GOOD FUCKING ROTTEN AUGUST!
For
the record, LIGHTNING was all around me, AGAIN, for over an hour last
night, three times in one 24 hour cycle, so she must recognize that I
am in some kind of fucking ass BIG
TROUBLE.
Still
folks, SHE WAS SO AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL, I nearly came in my pajamas,
watching all of her awesome colors and fractal designs as she darted
across the dark skies in both ribbons and CTG blots and I know beyond
a doubt, that SHE only makes HERSELF this freaking fantastically
beautiful for ME, and NOBODY ELSE, and this does indeed put a very
warm great feeling into my heart, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL DIANA, IWALU, BUT SPEAKING OF IWALU, and all
of my daughter's many friends, now I know that Paula Uwich of
Glendora, has no real psychic power after-all, and I want to thank my
best pal in the world tonightm, for helping me to rationally think
all of this through with the few facts given me, even right down to
the promise of a dream. She knows my great All Mighty daughter has
the power to send me dreaming interactions whenever SHE so chooses to
do so. She wants to come into the world and play these games with her
eternal THAT-BOY, and because SHE knows that I know it is just a
meaningless DREAM here, this is all OK to do. Well, I don't think
that it is, and I am soon going to do some things about all of this.
I understand that you are endlessly just age sixteen in your true
beingness, but I am not going to play this miserable game with you
any more. All my dirty little secrets are public and out to the
world, I can honestly say that I know of nothing I habve niot told
and admitted to and copped to, and whatever, as the Congressman would
say back before he was a congressman in 1975-1980 time circa, but let
us FISA discuss this little BREAK-IN reality. I know about the POPES
of the past, the Canonization process of the scrolls that they
decided to make our HOLY BIBLES out of, and the many secret things in
younger lives, in this one as 1100, in the Jesus one with the roof
top non dog push offs and laser traces, and every tyop Vatican
Official knows what's getting said here, I am saying that I know some
of GODS little and not so little SECRETS, and if this game does not
end soon, well, I don't like continuing those type of sentences to
their eventual logical conclusion, too legal a thing, you know. But
it is there. I really don't ask too much GODDESS SCYLLA, release me
from this 1997 kidnapping, and I won't publish a book called, ALL
GODS SECRETS.
Let
me just say one tiny thing about 1995, L-4. It is about a swimming
and heath club in Deptford, New Jersey, by the name of Haddonwood. A
very interesting dude who hung around the south or the road side of
the indoor swimming pool at the deep end, always holding onto the
pool wall, wanted me one day to go the bottom of the pool on my back
and look up at him, while laying flat. I told him I needed a weight
to keep me down, sort of like tonight's little Law & Order plot.
I know that I needed to be under an exact amount of atmospheric
pressure for him to run some type of a scanning device on me. I
blogged before on an earlier blog that he took my picture, and never
told you that he had something on his arm that told me a lot of stuff
not needed to be told about right now. Still, this was able to make a
video but it did more than that. When I was down at the bottom of the
pool, a strange greenish light came through the pool from whatever
this thing was that he had aimed abnd trained on me. I felt it
literally enter my mind, and just as in the old Star Trek with Mister
Spock and the 'mind meld thing', I felt our minds merge and become as
one. I always wanted to tell both my life journal on cassette tape,
as ell as my best friend, David Charles Roth, what happened, but only
was able to say that this was a cousin of the recording artist,
Mariah Carey. He was not a cousin. He was more than a cousin. And
ever since he was shown how to properly join a bigger club than
Haddonwood, he was also a mighty powerful and extremely dangerous
exploratron. Shortly after this happened, I saw this man less and
less, and eventually, he stopped coming to Haddonwood all together.
Before his final time there was over, he told me that the owner would
be trying to sell me his house in the coming year, and when I do not
buy it, the club will close down suddenly. I thought no more about
it, as it seemed so absurd and nonsensical, nothing really having
anything to do with each other, in these totally separate parts of
varying possible future events, only they all did come to pass on
that following year in 1996, just as he said they would. He told me
one other thing. He said that I would have a dream about him around
the time the club does in fact close down, just so I will remember
our talk. I chuckled and asked him where he was getting his weed, it
must be real good stuff. He chuckled back with a stern face, and yet
all the time, was staring right through me like a freaking
X-RAY MACHINE.
The
dream went as follows and this was never blogged, and was on my list
as one of the forever non-bloggable items. Well, I have had it after
this siege. I hope the Dow Jones survives this, it is all totally
true, and I am about to ask Doctor Jack if I have any recourse as
this has wiped out my entire life, at my most vulnerable time when I
was down and out the most ever in my life early in my frikkin'
forties.
I
went to sleep one night, and was still living at Highview in
Williamstown, just weeks before it was time to move into the new
Somerdale home of hell.
I
fell into a nice sleep, all was quiet, it was late at night, it was a
cool evening for a summer season in august in 1996. I found myself
with a bunch of weird folks I never knew from anywhere in this
universe. We were at the Mayflower Hotel on Tennessee Avenue in
Atlantic City, New Jersey. The room became detached from anything
else in the universe. From here, one could go anywhere, without
limitation. I was somehow just aware of this truth nobody actually
had to reveal it to me or speak this in words. Somehow, I let one of
the nut case whack jobs in the large top floor room facing Tennessee
Avenue, talk me into walking through a window leading out onto a
balcony with no railing. When you got out there, only the balcony
exited, no railing, and it extended for what seemed like forever, and
all you could visually perceive as this endless long balcony about
ten feet wide, like a miniature endless road leading ahead into
nowhere. Suddenly, Misses Bassler became visible, a woman well into
her eighties who I did not know in 1996, and only spoke to over a
telephone in 1997 several times, regarding my search to find Sarah
Nurocky, as she called her, she only knew of her and Sarah Callio,
and told me that Callio was no where near my age so that could not be
the girl I was searching for for many months so unrelentingly. She
approached me as I was walking ahead towards her, and she told me
that I would not remember anything in this experience until well into
the 21st
century somewhere. She said the Nurocky family is from a mistress who
had been kept by Robert McGuire Senior back in the nineteen-twenties,
secret from all his friends and associates and especially his family.
She was from an area in Ireland where medical experiments took place
in secret for thousands of years, and they all knew about the
dreamers and the dreamer airship people. Then the strange man next to
me hollered out, these are EXPLORATRONS of the ORMUND. I asked what
this was all about and he responded with the words, power is in the
flagler, where the pier has always been and kept you from remembering
Mark Mohr. I will remember this clearly forever, despite forgetting
it from the day that I woke up in this August 1996 circa until about
the time that I posted the second of my YOUTUBE projects, called,
“Wanna' Spend My Time”. This was remembered IN A DREAM, where I
was in an Advanced Robotics class somewhere, and MC came into the
room and began singing a lovely song, totally unknown in this waking
world, having about four octaves in it, as only she could do justice
to such a song. Anytime that I meditate and place myself in a tranced
and bi-located state where I am in my normal room meditating yet also
am totally at this weird balcony ramp that seems to stretch into an
infinity, I always come back here to full waking world awareness with
some new memory of what this man at the Haddonwood Pool wanted from
me. He was an engineer who was determined to defy gravity, and told
me at Haddonwood, that a friend of his who owned a restaurant in
Haddonfield, New Jersey just a few miles away, saw me in 1975, appear
to defy gravity by leaping off of a 25 foot tall ladder and come
slowly floating down to the ground, which was true, I'll admit it.
Later still, I learned that it was one of the three young females
standing at the bottom and not willing to get out of my way, causing
me to do that incredible thing that day in 1975. He knew one of these
girls he told me, her name is Brenda Moore. But if it is the same
AT&T Brenda Moore from 1992 circa at Meeker's rented home, why
would a girl about age 21 still be about age 21, both in 1975 and
also in 1992, unless time travel is being done. In my most recent
meeting with Rog, on this balcony, he has taken me to where we get
off at a spot where suddenly things turn into the same thing that I
witnessed upon occasion back at Jenny's trailer in Mullica township
around early 2006 somewhere, calling it the MENTAL REALM or the sixth
dimension. We entered a laboratory that looked half like a hospital
and half like a laboratory, and we went further down the corridor
than the time I was with the great actor Jimmy Stuart, in the 2006
interaction from the trailer. Let me compenfreakingsate here for the
page fucking eleven of eleven clock ones attack and seeing Miss
bitch's ugly face represented digitally as four consecutive ugly
number one's. HA HA HA, I just found a fucking ODF-HACK
and corrected it to the proper word OF, scum bags. Basically and
without boring the world too much, he claims that he and his friend
Brenda travel all around, and have given a young boy of the age of
seven, this same 'toy', and it totally controls the SPACE-TIME-MIND
reality, with a little help from someone mastering the skill of using
it, sort of as he made the comparison, I didn't make it up, a
skateboarder. First, you need to have a skateboard, then second, you
need to develop and acquire the skill to properly use it. This works
in a similar way. I all ready knew that much from having powerful
dreaming interactions from time to time with my younger daughter PEE,
that I do not always talk about and blog. It seems that in exchange
for my showing him how I seemingly interact more efficiently with
graviton forces of cosmos than do other folks in my time period, he
in turn will show me how to use the shoebox that I've called on many
past blogs, “TRANSDIMENSIONAL TRUNK DEVICES”. The boy I speak of
that he gave this to, is Nick Cannon. He used it to follow me back to
my high school in 1996, back into 1968 a dozen years before he was
even born and brought two of his thug pals with him on the trip, and
also, if you research my road trip that I took with good old Nicky on
the 5th
of October in 2008, or somewhere around that time where he took me
into Boston to some weird hotel and we got back to Philly on
Halloween Day and saw the parade, all 26 days before it happened
after I awoke from this wild experience, it is all right there to be
archived on the blogs in early autumn of 2008. Who could freaking
make stuff like this up, Mister Wolf and Mister Trump? You sure
couldn't!!!!
Well,
I was not going to speak this unbloggable stuff, at least not in
2012. But since the beach robbery back on the 17th
of June, the enemy is just pounding me and pummeling me into the dust
at red Lobster Sea Squared. I must therefore counterstrike as I sea
fit. All these true things are just a small part of my unfathomable
long seemingly endless freaking nightmare, L-4. Yes connected into
all of this even as far back as 1983, is Orlando,
Florida, and I
believe that my daughter has known this all along, and that she is
being forced to go along with nick and his time machine or TRUNK
DEVICE. This almost
killed me and my poor mom that day at the Turnersville Pathmark
Shopping Center on August 2nd
in 1996, 10 years to the day since Carter himself told me that yes, I
am dead, and thus, I must be in mother fucking ass
HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well,
let me wrap up for the night. It is after six in the morning now on
the East Coast of the United States, and here in Fort Pierce,
Florida. I will start going to the Pompono Casino soon, I have
totally had it. I have a Quantum CARDDECK with 19% maximum accuracy
rating, so reversing these into white-matter-space answers, changing
YES answers into NO, abnd NO answers into YES will allow me 81%
accuracy on questions such as should I bet RED on my first five spins
at any roulette wheel to win? It could be 3, 5, or 7, it can be RED
or EVEN, or LOW or any of six outside bets. But I am not going to sit
here broke and down when I have a world of powerful fucking ass
enemies to fight. THAT, ROCKDROID will remain always, the great KIRK
CRUSHED EQUATION,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
have letters going out to STATE and FEDERAL Attorney Generals, the
ACLU, the FBI, the FCC, and one to the President. I have totally had
it, and this is going to get exposed to the world and stropped, or
somebody will have to kill me, and GUESS
FRIKKIN' WHAT FOLKS,
THIS
HAS BEEN TRIED BEFORE MANY TIMES, AND I AM RETRACED OVER AND OVER, SO
GIVE UP YOU BUTT WIPES. It appears I am as indestructible as a BLACK
HOLE, ten percent anyway, great grandpa, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
5555555555555555555555555555555555
WELL
LET US WRAP THINGS UP, I NEED GO BEDDY-BY, WHAAAAAAAAAAA. BUT ARNIE
OF EX GOVS OF KALI4NYA, I WILL BE BAHK, SIR.
ENDING
THE BLOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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