Monday, September 3, 2012

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0542, YO




SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0542

SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY

STARTING:



I honestly can say that this was the most horrible holiday weekend and death attack on me by the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE, that I can remember in the nearly seven years of my blogs now, and even since the 15th of you know what, in you know when, people.



Where to really begin is my problem tonight, as I want to say about three quadrillion things, and that would take one hell of a long time. We all know that Jim Burr made some statements to me that I will not forget in many lifetimes to come. One is that I cannot fight SATAN in my own strength. I go on rolls where I try every so often, to prove this cock sucker wrong, and end up flat on my mother fucking dirty rotten ass hole every single time, YO.



Another thing he preached more than Emmy-Louise Cicone's dad, was that FAMILY was behind all of this, and that all my troubles stemmed from FAMILY. He would have made, whetrher he is aware of this or not at any point in his miserable fucking life, one hell of a great Mormon. They don't go to painstaking and unfathomably difficult efforts to learn the roots of all p[ersons walking the Earth, Mormon or not, for no good reason. I am here to testify that they know all about my ordeal with all the things on my blogs, now if you go to Utah and ask the head Elders to admit it, they'll tell you that they don't have a clue what I am talking about. In case you all haven't figured out the simple truths, and really got it yet, nobody robs a bank and then runs to the nearest cop to tell them what they just did. If you are waiting for anyone who I accuse of anything, to come out and say, “Oh yes, that Mark, the poor little bastard, we've been fucking up his whole life and we plan to keep doing it until he's dam dead”, then I feel sorry for your total idiocy. All I could hope for over the past quarter century, was that one person involved would be on a deathbed, scared shitless, and wanted to confess this to someone who would be duty bound as a human being, to come to me. This was what that special tape was all about with Governor Florio, too bad it was just a fake parlor trick. My my my Doctor Harold Camping, fishing, and hunting. If anyone reading this was living inside of my burning nightmare hell, you would do anything to get out of it or just lessen it, so don't even try and lie to me and say otherwise. But there won't be any fucking death-bed confession, and I am wise enough to realize that, it just took time for me to grow up and stop believing the lies and promises of so many folks for so many years.



Now we move on from Jim Burr, to Dave Roth. He too, said some major things that will live on in my mind long-ling Henry Fonda, after he flew off this dream and CO. Yes, my lesson has been learned the hard way, thanks for caving into the wealthy, all of law enforcement, as that is what you have done, right through to this very day, backing it up to before Lieutenant Sakavich and even before that at the Cherry Hill FBI Office, back burners and all. Dave noticed when we first me at the Caldor Department store #113, as security officers, that we seemed to share a very wild set of outlandish circumstances. One of those was that any time we tried to ever do anything connected in any way with MUSIC, an instant major series of unexplainable problems and troubles came upon us out of the blue, more mysterious and more magical than a million fucking cunt lapping Harry Potter fiction stories, could ever hope to emulate. This dude and I became good friends until he died listening to my voicemail message on the first week in March in 2002, at home in his bedroom. Actually, he died returning a call to me, and the FBI just might have the tape to this very day, as it ended up in an FBI agent's basement at 841 13th Street, in Hammonton, New Jersey, USAESMWG. He said other major stuff, but none of it is relevant to the point being made right now about how music for us is so beyond totally taboo. Stop and ask yourself why this might be, LADS, LASSIES, LABBERS, AND LABRADOR DOGS, 'L-4'. The only possible reason is because stories and messages can be sent by way of music, to the general population, and there are forces out here in the multiverse, that don't want what is happening to me, and what happened to Dave, to ever get out there and be told. But a lot of people have as expected, got the wrong idea about a lot of things. These forces are not physical or visible, and pass through events like a hot knife would through a slab of fucking butter. So, just because one day, things began to turn in certain directions up on Long Island to where I used to visit my wonderful jerk off snooty relatives in Babylon as a youth and a teen, don't go making judgments that the actual stuff going on has an origin on the physical planet of Earth or at any specific tiny little point in time. That would be a major miscalculation folks. Things pointed to a few directions and people after I began sorting out stuff and even reconstructing lost and blocked memories, but the real shit is all going down out on the ASTRAL PLANE, or in the invisible realm of the subatomic, in-between the waking tangible real world, and the void infinity that lacks any dimension at all other than existence itself, something an unenlightened mind is incapable of grasping. On top of all of this, discoveries are made almost every day, that totally blow me away, it is not as though I am telling some fixed story on these blogs,, this is a moving train people, if you see things like Terry from Egg Harbor City back in 2007 and 2008, my advice to you is to jump off the fucking train. Your injuries will be far less than the endless bruising from the wild ride that this will continue to take both you, and me, relentlessly onward into the gods only fucking know where, YO. If my blogs had started in early 1996 when my search to find “SARAH” was all just getting started, a lot of different stuff would have been written, but times and technology as well as my personal situation, made things a decade off as far as starting to publicly tell my horrendous story.



Noise was horrible all fucking day long. The sky stalking was bad while I was out shopping around noon. There is holiday partying going on, and I've been playing my MORIANITY through the PP-roachphone and will continue to do this all night mother fucking long, L-4, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tomorrow, I will talk to Debbie about a lot of illegal shit going on around me, as I have rights, just not to pursue music. I am denied that liberty, and this is an ever ongoing abuse as well as violation of my human and civil liberties. I can state in all truth that the opening of fucking cock sucking September has been about as bad as shit gets. As for the strange super loud sound the other day, a plastic plate had a small hole in it at the center from being on too hot of a surface. I did not throw it out because it still could be used as long as non liquid food stuff was placed on it. But the plate had other plans, or the cosmic forces, or whatever, as my old pal Bob Andrew said in 1975, quite often, in the basement of Albert Pileggi's home, just a block away from the Haddon Township High School, where I attended the 7th and the 8th grades, YO.



Dear Jewelly. I know you live 50 million light years away as well as fifty million years in the future. So you are reading this immediately. When will you ever have had enough fun playing with me? Even Donna said that enough was enough, why not agree with her? Less than half of one tiny millennium away, no one has to live anywhere and follow the illusions. Exactly why humanity began to dream out and away from the Earth, I don't claim to know. But I know that to you, it is as simple as winking an eye, to just dream into somebody around me here and now, any old time you so desire. I wrote a book, and should have dedicated it to you back in 1994, but I did mention your name, lovely Viqueen. Even the US © Office knows your name, between the book and the song sent to them, in 1994 and in 2007, in my music project called, “Karaoke Lunch-Break at the Sorian-18 Guardhouse”. Real cute, AT&T. Even IBM had to get into the act, huh? Well, as Prefontaine's girlfriend Mary said, “I'm not your type”. Maybe the Hyundai did not work out, DUH, but the old blue nungen rides on, right West Collingswood High? WOW, between so many deals and secrets, one might think we're trying to build Bohemian Grove #2, YO. SHEEEEEEIT.



Well, world, let the great fucking CALLIO FAMILY keep their rotten dirty secrets for a thousand years. Turn my lungs into washcloths, and abduct me in July 1970, and do all manner of unspeakable shit to me. I have no way of stopping you. Another famous quotation of Dave Roth, sits also in the great US © Office, from the early part of 1988, on the project called, “The Epitome of Harassment”, all misspelled back then, cause I was too fucking wetahded to check the correct spelling. WHAAAAAAAAAAA. Yes L-4, he went into a 100 decibel tirade at the other Guardhouse, the one at the Gaither road American Honda, and said and I'll quote this late and great fine gentleman here, “Because we've got fucking enemies, and these enemies have fucking power, and we don't”. Kinda says it fucking all, right folks? DUH, Ashley Tinsdale, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



MAGNESONIC, SCAN ALL PEEPS MAKING MY LIFE TOTAL FUCKING HELL, ALL ORDERS, GENERAL, AND SPECIAL. YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO ON MY ELECTRONIC VOICE PRINT AS FOLLOWS, MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, AND STOP!!!



Somebody is going to be real sorry soon, for putting me through this horrendous of a fucking cunt helliday-holiday weekend geek bend. Take that to the Choir Preaching Bank, old pal, Regis, and give Kathy-Lee my best, YO, and tell WAYV for me to go @^^^*#!@^&*^#$(%# and so on.



I ASKED GAWKY GAUKAUK WHY THIS HORRIBLE FUCKING ATTACK STRUCK ME THIS HELLIDAY, AND WAS GIVEN THE PCN-462. Maybe it is not a fracture, but what is it then, Mommy Dearest? Well, some matching items are as freaking follows, YO, my friend Sheriff Monks.

ALL RANDOMS HAVE PATTERNS---FRED WINDSTEIN---TAPE---WAVE. Enjoy my nice 5000 dollar television set, Ann King, old friend. WHAT A FAMILY!





SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT, YO!!!!!!!! Well it is time to say goodnight, Carol Burnett, and all my other good friends and foes out here, YO, WHAAAAAAA. The clock is still holding Eastern time, Shf. I'll keep you updated, my friend. You know, you can't take it with you. As another pal of mine said just today on television, the Shf of Indian River County here in Florida, “Death is forever”. You know he knows, or does he? How can anyone ever really know dog squat?????????????????????? Well, there is an answer to that folks, and MORIANITY and what has all happened to me, proves, that more is going on than simple life and death as mortal man perceives this great parlor trick. MY blog ends here, peeps, nighty-freaking-night.













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