SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0543

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0543

'nothingnobodypatheticpersecutedmountainpen'

9:03 PM-EDST, TUESDAY, 4 SEPTEMBER, 2012

BEGINNING OF BLOG:

There is no good place to begin. Every day is hell. I have neighbors who should be taken out and shot. When I go to call even my so-called friends, they tell me they are busy and hang up on me. The entire world has deserted me. But I know what is going on, I know how this is all being done, and just who is doing it. Who is doing it, did you say to me? SATAN is doing it, that's who. But just what really is SATAN? Well folks, we all know that if I claim to know all the answers, I'll just be scoffed at, but I was there in 1980 when taping tapping Lenny messed up my life forever, and got the entire industry against me. I was there when he threatened to never allow me to escape. I was there ladies and gentlemen, so all I say is don't tell me that I was not. Every day is hell, and I have the place packed up and most of the stuff in here will be left as is, to be thrown out or whatever, just as before. I cannot fight these evil mother fucking people and this beyond wicked fucking family. Still, let me make no mistake here in telling you that they themselves are merely mass with energy passing through them, just as all the rest of us are. I may be the only one who truly understands it, all though I really do think I was warned nearly five years ago, as only one formula has ever dealt with the cosmic truth that indeed, mass is equal to energy divided by the square of the speed of light, or reversing the truth that this tells about how we all live in the waking world, energy is mass times the square of the speed of light. In any case, nothing ever just happens and I realize that, not the past, not the present, and not the future. The sixth dimension recognizes no such silliness as mass or energy or space or time, just MIND or really, EXISTENCE. This is shy, even though it is sweet music to my mother fucking ears, what my pal over at Indian River County in Florida, said on the television commercial over the holiday weekend about when you're dead, you're dead forever, as he put it in exact quotes, “Death is forever”, yes it is, but that is like saying the magicians hat is black and the magic cloth that he or she swipes over the bunny rabbit is blue and white with green polka dots, so true, but the trick is still hidden past any of that surface bullshit, folks. The rabbit supposedly vanishes, as has my entire life, because of what James T. Burr and the rest of the fucking cunt Christians, label and call, SATAN. Now getting down to fucking ass cases a little bit here folks YO, you can hate my no talented worthless fucking music, but I am only using some of it to tell stories and prove points. I post the garbage called, “WANNA SPEND MY TIME” for the one simple reason that the producer of the video image is Deezy Slim, or Darius Evans. He and I knew each other for about a year or so before he left for North Carolina to pursue a career in dentistry, and he still has hopes and dreams of being the biggest rapper on Planet Earth, and even though I hate 'rap music', a misnomer if ever there was one, as to rap is to TALK, and music is a sung musical set of lyrics. Still, its true inventor, Lenny McKinnon, is a long story, way to long to ever tell on these blogs. Him and his pals from Philly International, Leon Huff and Kenny Gamble, all of this, and how Howard Solomon my chief recording engineer from 1980, all fits together, would require a fucking encyclopedia sized reference book, folks, YO. Darius helped me one night here in this very apartment, post that video that he produced. But his pal David from Smithtown, New York who claimed he knew everyone in Suffolk County, but did not know the Gottwald or the Huntington families, did not arrive on the scene of my fucking life by total happenstance or accident. Chess-masters, and only chess-masters, understand how to play ten and twenty moves ahead of the game. What is going on around me is being operated by Satanic Operatives, who next to them, chess-masters would be like a candle next to the fucking sunshine. Setting all of these things up is nothing for them to do, nothing at fucking all. My mother went up to that horrible island and to those horrible relatives of hers, whose cousins further up north-side, had cousins who were friends with Robert McGuire, and did a lot of horrible things to certain unnamed unbloggable people. Now, what has happened since I left high school is some kind of hubcap payback. But it goes deeper than that, and only Tacie and her magic kicks understands all of it, along with Joe King, General Hospital, and a lot mother fucking more, I presume, Mister Livingston. These pricks have all my neighbors, all my once thought of friends, in on this. This is what got me fired from my job also back in cunt lapping middle March, a Waterloo fucking time of the year for me, as are other times. I have been ROBBED, RAPED, BRUTALIZED, INJURED, INTIMIDATED, AND SCOFFED AT BY DISBELIEVERS. And I am supposed to believe the fucking ass bible is true and real, when I personally mother fucking totally know that it is the biggest fattest con job ever perpetrated upon human kind. I don't think fucking so, ladies and gents. Still, when one of my so-called friends blew me off twenty minutes before the Dow Jones closed, their markets shot up about 50 points as a result, still a down day for them inconceivable as that may sound after such a hellish holiday weekend and prior day, still it shot from down nearly 100 to closer to 50 points. But the Dow Jones is too stupid to know that if I had not had this event happen, I never would have seen a major fucking television show on the Discovery Health Channel from 4-5 this afternoon, on Comcast Cable Channel number 182 here in Fort Pierce, Florida. This shed a new light on how many exploratrons can occupy a body in one continuous event, leaving the awake dreamer to share its energy with each of them whenever things switch over on the sixth dimension. One thing I know for certain, and that is the 1983 GITYA song, copyrighted in my name, had more power over this fucking cunt universe, than all the popes and kings and presidents of all history. This is all what led me to try and do the rewrite project from that song, called, “You'll Be Crossing Over”. In another parallel universe, there really is a Doctor Carey, and I think the powwerful bastard people who transcend time abnd hyperspace, back in the eighties knew it, when they themselves took the phone conversation and played with it, as I did up here in the twenty-teens. Oh well, Mister French Grape, THAT'S LIFE, or is it the way it goes, or is, or whatever, Bob (Book of Beach), or another statistic of being around me makes you either zoom to the top or to the bottom. So just who and what is the energy around me, that causes all of that powerful fucking shit to go down? Hay, if I knew exactly what the answer to that was, everyone making my life a living hell right now, would be dead, POW, just like that, in a flash. No, I don't have all the fucking answers world. But I do know what I've experienced in my lifetime as Mountainpen or is it Russ Walker, or Rictofarious, or Zeranniss, or is it the person who mighty Chinese Girls from 1975, and mighty Dairy Queen owner/operators see twin copies of at 'stations'? Again, I don't have all the dam answers, President fucking McCoy of 2006. If I did, I'd heal Hawking so he would be forced to help me with his great resources and science laboratories. Unfortunately, I am just a fucking nobody being endlessly destroyed by this powerful fucking jerk off who Christians have called for thousands of years, SATAN. Well, I am not waiting for months, I am leaving tomorrow for fucking Lake Chapala, Mexico. I have hated fucking Florida since the first day I fucking arrived in this hot fucking hell hole. Paradise, huh, yeah, for the fucking super rich, but for these twisted greedy bastards, anywhere can be paradise. The money buys the paradise folks, not the fucking ass location. But once they are dead and gone, their money is worthless, they have no control over 2300 and the great Walker and Water Streets and World Laboratories, so dream on folks. ***THE END.***