SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0575
SUPPLEMENTAL
ENTRY
STARTING
THE BLOG:
Folks,
this will be a slightly different than my usual blogs, as I will
admit to answering several unnamed persons. Nobody wants to be a part
of the real world anymore, hiding behind computer screen names, web
this and web that and internet and computer world, and all that
cyber-nonsense. I am responding to some real people, even though it
seems I must play this ridiculous game called Mack Kaiter Lives
Forever with the Queen of Dairies.
Let
me start with PP. I tried e-mailing back on the comment reply area of
the blog comments, to tell you that life is too short for peeps to
stay mad at each other over silliness. OK so I was off my meds and
needed to blow off some steam, and you hollered at me and told me you
would kick my ass and how immature I am, so it should be out of your
system by now, let's call it even, brother. I don't want a thing from
you, I was just messing around, hell, you play around too, and you
know it. I loved the poem about Cifaloglio. Real cool BRAHHH. What
the real problem between you and me is that you are like the rest of
the world, and that amazes me for such an incredibly talented musical
person. You just refuse to believe some real simple truths about me
that if you were to contemplate on it enough, you would see that
there is just no Earthly reason for me to be lying to you or even
stretching the truth. I CANNOT WORK
E-MAIL, SCREENS COME UP that I CANNOT UNDERSTAND, AND
NO ONE WILL FUCKING SHOW ME WHAT TO DO, NOT EVEN YOU. It is literally
out of the TWILIGHT ZONE. If you could do one of two things for me
right now, one would be repaying any money that I ever invested in
that silly music nonsense, or two, showing me how to work a fucking
cunt computer so that you can walk out the door and I can make it
work, I would choose number two. This at this stage of life's game,
is worth a lot more than 30 or so thousand dollars. I have attended
computer classes, I have done it all, but when I come home, and try
it, IT DOESN'T FUCKING WORK.
Laugh the fuck at me all you want to, my friend, and you know you
curse worse than I do!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Anyway, cool interesting
information, thank you, I read it all the other night, and a lot of
other stuff on many accounts. I eventually get around to reading
things, but what people do not realize with me is that what takes
weeks for them to get done in life, takes years for me to accomplish,
and not because I don't try or I am some fucking stupid ass retard.
It is because of a mysterious real thing called the fucking
HUNTINGTON CURSE.
Buddy, life is too dam short for staying mad over silly shit. I
forgive you for not understanding me any more than anyone else,
despite us being business partners for years back in the nineties. I
was just being an ass with the peepee thing, I am sorry. I could not
help but laugh when it made you so ornery and angry at me, and for
all of this, I am genuinely sorry, and will admit, I was a fucking
ass hole, and if you ever come down my way, come over and give me a
good kick in the mouth, I need new fucking teeth anyway, YO. Now if
you ever read this, call me sometime, I am sorry. Guys need not stay
mad over stupid little shit. If I stole your wife or made your
daughter cry or you burned down my trailer back in Mullica, now that
is reason for some anger. How about the both of us being 60 year old
men, OK?
I
know I am a moron. I have had a very difficult life. I have been
searching for answers to things that have happened to me that would
have killed other normal folks decades ago, or placed them
permanently into a psychiatric hospital. All I want is the MOTHER
FUCKING TRUTH. I want nothing else from anybody, never did, never
will. I like staying to myself, I enjoy my life as a loner eccentric,
and if I had my way, I would never bother anybody, and nobody would
ever bother me. Wheeeeeeee. But life has realities attached to itself
that makes this an impossibility. All my life since I was in school,
jerk off fucking pricks would pick on me because I am fucking
different. I did not ask to be born different. I did not ask to be
born in the mother fucking first place. I did not ask for all of my
wild life, but in any event, L-4, it all happened, as it did not need
or require my permission or my approval to all go down around me like
a dam ass meteor shower. Anyone who is a dues paying card carrying
member of the LET'S HATE AND DESPISE MARK
WAYNE MOHR CLUB will never ever die in another club,
called the lonely Hearts, as you are in a lot of relating company.
But then and without trying to sound braggadocio here, I really don't
give a fucking shit peeps, because I have told the world since I was
knee high to a small bullfrog, that I am not here to win any
popularity contests, and WEEEEEEE, I DON'T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have
no memory of ever holding a gun to anybody's head and saying, god dam
it, you better fucking like me or else. But without a gun, I will use
my mouth and holler and yell louder than my asshole neighbors ever
can, when people think they can treat me like a fucking ass dog, and
go beyond that even, and violate my HUMAN, CIVIL, and CONSTITUTIONAL
RIGHTS, as a legal USA born citizen, YO. There are a lot of rumors
going around. There is word on the street that my father cheated Mel
fisher a long time ago, along with my father's good pal from Arizona,
William Kirtland. My father took a little bit of booty after Fisher
cheated him out of a hundred million fucking dollars, and dug up the
Spanish Treasure Galleon Atocka, and fuck you Spell-Checker, you
don';t know how to fucking spell it either you butt-wipe. My dad
joined the Merchant Marines at age sixteen with his grandmother's
fake signature of his mother, Mrs. Clara Block of Toledo, Ohio, back
in 1935. At these times, it was a major shame to be any kind of a
non-white person in America. I think this entire world sucks. Today,
people just fake shit a lot better. My father was shamed and felt he
had to leave town when it was discovered that the man that he always
believed had been his father, was a step, and he was not a Martin,
but a Mohr. On the Mohr lineage in this area, way beyond what you can
learn on the Google, or any ancestral websites, my father had roots
several generat6iobns before him along his real lineage, that led to
a big beautiful African-American slave girl, who raped the son of the
owner of a North Carolina Cotton Plantation, back in the days before
the Civil War even happened. This girl had a mother from the
Johannesburg, south Africa area, and a father from the capitol city
in Portugal. My father's roots are what allowed him, during shore
leave, while in the Navy, as the Merchant Marines in war time became
part of the US Naval forces in those days, today it is all totally
different, but back then, when America entered into World War Two in
1941 after Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese war machine of
the axis powers, my dad was in the thick of things, and saw his share
of horrors, such as entire ships being blown up and bombed and sunk
out at sea. He was also part of an experiment that we don't talk
about a lot on this blog at the Naval shipyard in Philly. When my dad
was on shore leave, and not creating god only knows how many siblings
that I may have running around the planet today, he was in museums,
and many were secret Portuguese museums that unless you had a lot of
friends as well as lineage, you did not get past the front room. This
is where my dad was able to learn the locations of seven treasure
galleons, and the story is so complicated that it would fill up ten
Moby Dick sized books, so for now, this is all you need to know
about. So getting back to the subject of the world famous treasure
hunter and salver, Melvin Fisher, of South Florida, my father did
work with him, and others, and he gave him the information, and was
later ripped off. The story is very complicated so of course the
Fisher family has their side of the story. Now by using a very
sophisticated computer program, showing all of the tides and storms
and currents, in an area where these seven sunken ships fell victim
to hurricanes over three hundred years ago; the area can be 'magged'
using large magnetometers. Coffer dams can be dropped, and tons of
soot and sand and debris can be vacuumed away, and the booty then
dived for and successfully retrieved. I have no intention of doing
this, but I have left my daughter in my will, the sea charts of the
sites, one has been excavated as I mentioned, and you can read all
about it probably right here on the internet if you are a good
Googler, and can correctly spell the name of that ancient wreck. I
will never use them, and after-all, this is her heritage. As for what
happened, it is very complicated, and only the FBI knows the entire
story. I doubt that Fisher ever told it to his own family, and would
bet that he took some real big secrets right to his dam grave, as did
my own mother, may she rot. She and that fucking hypothetical
daughter crap. Anyway, maybe this will clear up some loose ends and
stop some nasty ass rumors that are spreading around the salvage
industry. My dad did not totally trust anyone, and gave the locations
in code. He told me this in 1976 at the Carriage Lamp Apartments, on
the whiter Horse Pike, in Clementon, New Jersey, where the
illustrious great Studio Park Records, later came to be, up in 1998.
WEEEEEEEEEE. Let us now move on to another bunch of things.
This
will hopefully address the kind lovely person who hacked into my
YOUTUBE account some time back. If you would take your brains out of
your rear end for perhaps a moment or two, as I know you are
intelligent or you would not have been able to hack into my private
area part of the site. Buttwipe, this was supposed to be all fucked
up and whack. It was supposed to be all out of timing and tune, and
all weird and screwy sounding. Read the title again, DUH. I was
supposed to be having a huge psychiatric mental breakdown, along with
a bunch of other total crazies,in a booby hatch nut house sike ward.
It was not supposed to sound like some great hit done by Michael
Jackson, or Justin Beiber, YO. Why don't you put your little symbol
on all my videos? They are all supposed to just be amateurish and
funny, and not to be taken seriously. You cannot really believe that
I travel back and forth from the middle eighties to 2012 over and
over, so why not rag on the video called DEAL WITH THIS ANOTHER TIME,
or even THE MORNING LIGHT, where I only have the version where I sing
over it with a forty dollar karaoke machine and it sounds worse than
a tank hitting a flock of buzzards while General Patton and his boys
are shooting it up, YO. Lighten up folks, things are not so literal,
I play around a lot, if we don't laugh a little, we'll cry ourselves
to mother fucking sleep, YO. Still, the YouTube authorities do not do
their police work very well, allowing criminal activity. Why not just
get right onto the video, put a thumbs down on it, and comment and
say, “Boy do you suck, ya' ass hole. Hay, I know I am a no talented
songwriter. I cannot sing either. A machine copies a voice, it is
called digital sampling followed by vocoding technology. Wait until
you hear my kid do the harmonies of You'll Be Crossing Over, if I can
ever get it up. The only illegal part of it is when I taped our
telephone conversation in the middle eighties. Hay, who can know the
fucking future folks? Oh this world cracks me up at light speed
squared, YO. If I was even a moderate drinker, I would soon become
one hell of a fucking drunkard. Yes sir, you all have my total
permission folks, to take that one straight to the bank!
Now
a message to a friend who I also tried e-mailing, and totally failed,
recently. Hopefully he or she will read this eventually on this
blogging site, but I will keep trying to get someone eventually to
help me e-mail a response. I am speaking to my friend from the
alpha-deep-six, speaking of the underwater seas and sunken treasure,
only we are going to discuss the Astral Plane here, as this person is
interested in my personal experiences and learning about many things
that I feel may be of service in some way, to him or her.
There
is a secret called the FASCITAR. It was created thousands of years
ago, and the majority of the information was lost by the time this
world was at the 4th dimensional point in this parallel
universe, of the late nineteen-sixties. What it told was half the
story. I know the other half, only because it was told to me by a
powerful ASTRAL PLANE GODDESS
who owns our entire everything, and loves to come into the waking
world over and over, and I cannot help it if religions around the
world limit HER incarnation to one time, and or one story, that is
their business, here is mine. My mom worked with some very strange
coworkers at her shipping company a long while back, one of the many
wild ladies, was going by the name of Patricia Hollister. It is too
long to go into tonight, my good new friend, but I will tell you that
I believe this lady to be a lot more than she appeared, abnd I did
get to know her, and she even helped my mom and I move, along with a
dude she seemed to know, abnd this may blow away the world, but the
young crowd before they let the adult world talk them out of many
powerful truths from an Astral Region known as Potterkovich in
Province Olympia, would call this man with Patricia Hollister, by the
name Saint Nicholas, and other more Americanized names such as Santa
Claus. He lives on the Astral Plane, but Patty was real good at
lighting candles, doing chants, and many other occult things, she had
magic potions, and I could go on and on. This special coworker of my
mom's back in the early nineteen-seventies, is the reason that I came
to learn about the FASCITAR, and go onto meet, in my 'DREAMS', the
great ALL MIGHTY GODDESS SCYLLA JEHOVAH, or Sarah-Stacey Krassle, as
I know her, somewhat more closely and yes, intimately, very
intimately. I could be murdered for making that statement, but I tell
the truth, and have a lot more than this to tell, someday. Still,
here is how to work the FASCITAR, for now, my good friend, ADS, and I
will not bother for now, telling which half is known to the Masons,
Eckists, Rosicrucian's, Bohemians, Illum's, and on and on we could
go, from Lenny McKinnon's mighty group to cults and powerful secret
clubs around the world, and yes, far beyond, into transdimensional
time and hyperspace.
This
will scare you a lot when you first play with this, and yes, I will
answer your exact question, on upcoming blogs, and I hope you are
still with me, and still burn for the truth about dreams and the
Astral Plane, as many think they know a lot or know it all, and none
have met the GREAT TEEN QUEEN SCYLLA, none, not HER greatest friends
on Earth, they only know a person asleep in a wild dream of power and
talent, that is beyond speakable and fathomable.
Lie
flat on your back wearing as few clothes as possible. It should be as
black dark, and as silent as possible. You should be tired and ready
for sleep, but not too sleepy, or you will not be able to properly
perform the first step called the 6-10 exercise of meditated state.
Try and think of your happiest times that gave you maximum pleasure
in your life until you feel almost giddy, some call this “feeling
divinely blissful”, in meditation circles, or used to forty years
ago.
After
you are relaxed and blissful, you are ready to do the 6-10 exercise.
The exercise is the second step. The first step is feeling divinely
blissful, and laying on your back with as few clothes or no clothes,
depending on your situation of course, and the third step is called,
going past your fear. Let us continue with the 2nd step
for right now. This is not bullshit, it will work, and if you do it,
you will know that there is no death, and things are only what we
want them to be, not consciously, but in our deeper higher truer real
self that is dreaming out and away from the void infinity down into
lower realms of first, the subatomic astral plane, and eventually
further down into the so-called waking worlds of the 5th
dimensional hyperspace containing virtually unlimited 4-D parallel
universes. Here is the instructions for carrying out the 6-10
meditation exercise. This number needs to be fully respected, you
must do the one thing ten times, and the other thing 6 times, if you
try other amounts, do not expect positive results. For 10 times,
daydream your way back into one of those divinely blissful
experiences that you were thinking of in the first of these three
parts of the FASCITAR. You must this time, visualize your lighter
twin self, some call an ASTRAL-BODY or phantom, almost leaving you
physically as if being squeezed out like pressing on a toothpaste
tube. Instantly place this phantom twin self, at this location and
time where you are so blissful and really be there in your 'mind'.
Don't make it too simple or too lengthy and complicated, try and make
the exercise last about half a minute to a minute, as you are going
to do this and you need to keep perfect track of it, as you must do
this exactly 10 TIMES. Now once this is done, you need to command
your phantom twin or astral body to leave you in several hours, be
specific, if you think you will fall asleep shortly after you
complete this, a good command is 2-4 hours, depending on if you a
sleeper that averages 4 verses 9 hours, as if you are a short
sleeper, command this to happen in the shorter time, and if you are a
longer sleeper, use a longer time, try and keep it 2 or 3 or 4 hours.
Just silently command your phantom twin or whatever you feel good
about referring to it by, to leave your physical self in such and
such hours. This must be done precisely 6 times, hence the 10 and the
6. Then you must totally forget what you did, and just relax yourself
into a natural sleep. After about 3-7 tries, on average, most folks
using the FASCITAR will have a wild experience that leads into the
third phase. You will wake up frozen and unable to move. When this
happens, you are awake and asleep. We all are awake and asleep, you
simply will become aware of it with mental consciousness. You will
hear buzzing and whining, and if you try to open and focus your eyes,
the entire room may fly around you or act as windshield wipers on a
car, splitting reality into two parts that swing into each other. You
will experience a natural fear, thinking you are dying and you will
want to pull back and not die. You must GET PAST THIS FEAR. Getting
past this is the third part of the FASCITAR. When you lose the fear,
and will yourself to be on the ASTRAL PLANE, you will totally be
there, and the experience is like no powerful dream, or even 60's
acid trips and drug induced trances. This takes you not so much TO
the Astral Plane, but allows you to REALIZE that this is where you
REALLY ARE. We will talk much more, old friend, and eventually I will
e-mail you, I have the address, abnd I hope you keep it. Sorry I did
not get to you sooner, but my life is very horrendous, and Scylla
keeps me very busy in this wild game she has going here, that mortals
call the WAKING LIFE or the WAKING WORLD. Don't even worry about what
you asked me on the blog comment space for right now, just practice
the FASCITAR, and when you get even to the 2nd part, let
me know, you will not get past the fear and ability to go all the
way, on the first try. Many folks believe they can master the Astral
Plane as though it is a college course or a trade being studied. This
is bullshit. There are many powerful entities that are way ahead of
us, playing around in many of our waking and sleeping dreams or the
vast hyperspace in the regions larger than atom size. They come to us
as flying ships, weird aliens, ghosts, monsters, demons, angels, the
list goes on quite extensively. Just tell me when you get to the 2nd
part of the FASCITAR my new friend, and then we will talk a lot more.
Maybe you and I together, can successfully awaken SCYLLA as this
would end a lot of problems for a lot of people.
Since
Jane disease-weeds screwed me with another eleven of eleven on my
word document, I'll now compensate with my fives, YO.
55555555555555555555555 plus 555555555 divided by
55555555555555555555 abnd multiplied by 5555555555555555555555555 is
equal to my anti notfondaU compensation, Janey Ballpark Dearest from
freaking 1993!!!
Yes
peeps, the Astral Plane is quite a condition-interaction, notice I
did not say a place, all though, if we could think in small enough
reality, it would be. Our entire universe and all of its many
parallels, are smaller than the smallest speck in the next higher
upline system, and this upline and downline system is almost eternal,
but lawtronics always wins out
eventually, and bends and curves even this huge dimension around, and
into its famous shape, that the ancient eastern civilizations knew
all along, the mighty circle, the eternal loop. On the Astral Plane,
all upline and downline realities and all parallel universes in all
of them, and even the MIND REALM of the totally unfathomable 6th
dimension. Astral Plane entities are similar to human beings, in that
they exist in suburban type areas and wooded type areas, and all of
that, but they also exist in towns and villages and even great
cities. When these entities all fuse together in these cities, we
call them STARS in our Physical Plane world HEAVENS. This is what
stars are on the Astral Plane, cities. This is why fusion reaction
and communicating with intelligent subatomic particles such as the
electron, is a very powerful guarded secret, one of my really wild
rides in my unbelievable life. Still, I move on, and keep going, but
Y?
THIS
BLOG TERMINATES TRANSMISSION 4 NOW FOLKS:
No comments:
Post a Comment