SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0502
KING
RUBBISHCHEWERSQUARED
THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT
CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BLOG
SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“TOMORROW
I AM PRESSING CHARGES WITH THE POLICE”
WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2293
SBT-DATFILE:
080212.835
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2012
BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:
Tomorrow,
I am calling the police over, and will press charges, as I was told
to do by the property manager, Debbie Morato, here at the fort
Pierce, Florida, Public housing Building at 601 Avenue B. All day,
AGAIN, and into 8 of the clock this evening, SLAM BANG BOOM IN AND
OUT IN AND OUT SHOUT SHOUT HOLLER HOLLER, like a bunch of caged
animals all trying not to be struck by endlessly flying liquid dog
shit. Things were better for a month or in that range, maybe longer,
as my blogs did not discuss my scum bag dirt ball nabes for quite a
while, then suddenly, CRASH, it all started up again. I have had two
horrible fucking cunt monster ass days. At least tomorrow, my
disability money comes in. If something happens to this, somebody is
going to mother fucking be murdered, I will promise the WOMO
that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have fucking cunt sucking
had it with this fucking ass shit. These diseased dirt eating shit
swallowers have done all that they can for 60 years, to make my
fucking cunt life a living daily cock sucking hell. If there was one
chance in a quatorodecillion that I could make changes for the
better, or even kill myself and stay fucking dead, then I would do
so, only there is not, it has all been relentlessly fucking cunt
tried, over and over and over and over again, with total failure as a
result every stinking rotten time,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A child with a retardation
chip on his shoulder can see clearly, johnny Nash, just why this is
all so bad right now. Good old 1996 and 1986, and now it seems, 2012,
on this lovely wonderful fucking date of the second of fucking
August. WOW. They won't let me forget, will they, the cock sucking
scum!!!!!!!!!!!! Well despite this horrendous miserable bullshit, I
made another four units playing my paper-roulette. Also, my CARDDECK
that has over time, developed an extreme black-space range of very
high twenty's in accuracy percentage, is maintaining itself despite
this newest, shall I say, GITYA RESPONSE SITUATION since the beach
robbery, basically a month and a half now, and beginning on June the
17th AKA by the baby boomers, as Watergate Day. Where are
you when I need you, gorgeous ravishing Sarah Jenny Johnson Jacobson
of 1972????????????????????????? I told the entire world how my mom
and I were terrorized at the Pathmark Shopping Center of
Turnersville, in New Jersey on August 2, 1996, ten years after my
friend David Roth and I went into Manhattan so that he could see his
pals perform in some night club, called, “New Shoes”. This is not
going to go away, not ever. A runny nosed dummy ass can see this with
eyes closed and cemented. Egg Harbor, New Jersey, is at the fucking
ass heart of this monstrous problem, and I make no bones about it on
my fucking ass YOUTUBE CHANNEL. Still, all of that will be coming
down soon, or else my all powerful and ruling daughter will come over
here and kill me, I know this as sure as I am sitting here eating
fire drops from hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That day
in 1996 was so horrific that it can never be told in its entirety,
despite being told for the most part over many older blogs. I get
threatened and terrorized by these Atlantic city worh hole builders
and sky trail creators, and then guess who is the monster bad guy in
all of this and always has been, besides David Roth, just guess who
it may be folks. Yeah you guessed it correctly, it is little old
pathetic victim me, innocent little fucking ME,
ME, ME, ME, AND POOR LITTLE ASS ME, DUH & WHAAAAAAAA. WOW,
what a fucking BAG
GUY I AM, FRANKENSTEIN, TELL YOUR MONSTER TO WATCH OUT, HERE I COME
YOU SON OF A DAM BITCH, BRO!!!!!!!!!Well
folks, let us continue with my mom's nightmare story of her dam own
now, so on with the show, miserable KALI-OOOOOOOOOOO. Here we go,
this picks up where it left off on the last blog, and began on
SJ-CH-#0500, WHAAAAAAAA.
I
worked throughout most of my married life in various businesses and
during the past fourteen years have continuously worked as a
secretary. It wasn't easy going backward to live in a one-room
furnished apartment, but I managed to make a comeback for my son and
me after the breakup of my marriage. After a few years of being on my
own In procured a divorce so that I could forget the past and make a
fresh start.
A
year ago a man in the Company where I worked asked me to go out to
dinner with him. It wasn't long before we knew we were in love. He
asked me to marry him but there were complications. Before ever going
out with him he had expressed to me his intention of divorcing his
wife.
For
now, we will leave off the story of my mother, written in 1977,
called, “Suicide, Or Was It”.
As
some may have guessed, I have a serious problem of my own that began
in 2008 somewhere. I have been literally taken over by a powerful
exploratron. There is not too much I can really do about it. There is
no pill to take, no couch therapy to convince me it is all in my
mind, how can it be, how could I possibly know intimate details, some
reflected in my daughters most recent movie, and on and on, such as
the one cited on my October 5, 2008 blog being one out of so many,
the medical office, on and on and on and on. Let me rest my sore
fingers and sore glands for a while now Shirley, we can always do a
James Rockford and come back and squalk onward into mother fucking
infinity, YO. My qiuck point is that I seem to have been the target
of this exploratron ever since my visit in 1972 up to my Aunt and
Uncle's place. It was after this that I developed many taits that my
daughter knows only too well, and were blogged by me at the start of
my blogs around early in 2006 somewhere such as not being able to
stand others singing along to music. I have no reason to have these
feelings, none at all. I am so sorry I acted like a total prick, as
HIM, not as ME, MY. Still, what is the answer, what can I do? Well, I
can endlessly suffer under this powerful Huntington Curse, a very
appropriate area for my kid to have moved into, being the curse and
all that is behind this. Some still take Ammityville down the road
seriously, when it was all ready admitted total hoax around 1980
somewhere. People BELIEVE WHAT THEY WANT TO BELIEVE, and as Diana
Ross says so well about that issue, There is no stopping them now,
huh girl, no how, no nothing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I
would have switched the 'PC' (PRIVECODE) off you know, how was I
supposed to know anything back in 1983, oh yeah, I forgot, swami me,
hell, I though it was BAD GUY ME.
WELL
FOLKS, NIGHTY NIGHT, AND ALL THAT HORSE SHIT. I BID YOU ALL A FOND
FAREWELL FOR THE DAM DAY. Day of the dolphin my Red Lobster ass,
George Hairbrush Sea Scott Patent
Office!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At least in your version
of fucking scrooge, my grand dad's song gets played. Folks, the world
hates me so fucking much, they have totally stopped airing the
greatest fucking Christmas carol on the planet. Even my daughter has
not had all her combined stuff played as much as Silent night, ask
her, she is the most honest girl on this Earth, she'll tell you I'm
'truthing' it here, Nancy Sinatra. WHAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
**********ENDING
TRANSMISSION, YO**********
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