Thursday, October 4, 2012

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0584 FISH PALES












SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0584

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2296

SEND-BACK-TEXT DATFILE: 100412.584

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL-EXPLORATRONS AND ME

MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES

BSNF: “SOMETHING I SAID IM 1995 ON MORIANITY

OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE, NEEDS BE EXAMINED”

© MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2012



BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:



LET ME GO THROUGH JUST THIS DAY, THEN WE WILL VERY CAREFULLY DISCUSS WHAT HAPPENED FROM THE MOMENT THAT I CLIMBED OUT OF MY BED AT 10:30 AM BACK OVER THE WEEKEND ON SUNDAY, AND REALLY TIE STUFF THAT IS UNMISTAKABLE, ALL NEATLY TOGETHER.



I got up today and no sooner was on the phone checking my AT&T landline telephone voicemail messages, when “SLAM” went the door, and out whoever was in the place across the hall, went, and the place has been empty since, as of now at 2:10 this Thursday afternoon. Yesterday, and well into 12 hours ago, a raucous and illegal party with unruly and uncouth stuff was going down in there, with total inconsideration for5 me being just across from them hearing all of this hellish noise hours past the town ordinance legal midnight noise abatement laws, that is mostly quite standard even if not written into a piece of legislation, the fifty states over. It is excusable on a 4th of July or a New Years Eve, but not just any time these diseased people feel like doing whatever they wish to do in there at the expense of myself and others as well. However, I came to learn when within an hour of their departure this morning, or the last person of the party, by my next door nabe, that many powerful and quite interesting things are happening around here.











I was in the lobby area down on the first floor, retrieving my mail from the common mail delivery area, and my pal from next door was there in his power-chair, and we had a nice long talk, and he enlightened me a lot about some stuff, and then, there is a whole lot more, not only how it all began since the powerful EXPLORATRONIC INTERACTION back Sunday morning, but also, with a borrowed small spy device of my own that is the truth and not a bluff, and what it recorded while out on a short errand, after my very nice talk with my next door nabe. Let's get down to frikkin cases ladies and gentlemen, MLI, L-4, etcetera. Originally I was heading out to do two totally different things that what I actually ended up doing good folks. I was headed to the building twin down the road on 7th Avenue where Resident Property Manager, Mizz Debbie Morato should be in her office over there on Thursdays, as she is here on Friday's. Then my original plan was to drop off a note in a sealed envelope if she was not there, at her box outside, as in this building there is no box, and she would not get it. Still, last night I had left my second complaint message on her voicemail system, which se most likely will not retrieve until Friday as well, all though she could I suppose, I am not mister Techie as you all know so well. In any event peeps, after a long talk with my nabe, I decided to hold off on going to see her for now. I also was going to go from there, straight over to the Hutchinson Island, to visit with my pal Mikey up on Ocean Avenue or route A1A, same thing. The plans altered as a result of my very enlightening conversation with my pal and nabe, from next door. He informed me that the entire building has been going totally off the wall crazy, to quote him precisely, and right away, I am thinking of another pal of mine, PRINCE, the great formerly known recording artist of the eighties, who sees things as I do regarding the topic of the CHEMTRAILS. If you just look at his cool videos up on the YOUTUBE, here is a dude who was on top of his game and as big as my daughter, back when she was in grammar and high school, and who knows how these MIND CONTROL games are indeed being done, or ETTOS TOOLS OF THE MILITUFORCE. This will all manage to nicely dovetail into a lot of things in a few minutes, so please read on folks. It seems that out of nowhere since Sunday, there have been all kinds of weird bizarre behavior of many residents as well as their guests. There have been both police cars and ambulances here at the building, I did not see them, but if Stan says they were there folks, they were there. This man tells it up front, straight flat out, and not a birdseed smidgen amount of bullshit, this is the way this fine gentleman is. I consider him a good friend of mine, and have come to know him even more than I thought that I had from other earlier talks with him. Fights have broken out and people have been hurt, on not just one but on several occasions, and all since the latter part of last weekend, my pal SIR PRINCE, and also my co-fighter, of this jet mind control force of the WOMO. Long story made very very short, with major compressions and abridgments; the building and its peeps, have all gone completely crazy; a point even shared by the Fort Pierce police Station, according to Stan, and you may quote me here on this blog today good folks. Ever since I popped out of that powerful SARAH-STACEY KRASSLE turning into MC interaction, no hammers and no hubcaps, or daughters of Billy Ray Cyrus or 'Billy-Bo', the nickname my business partner, Mister Paul Evans Pedersen, called him years ago, when little Miley was still in her crib; as he tells it, or did, back late in the nineteen-nineties, while we were running our independent music record label out of Clementon, New Jersey, called Studio Park Records, that totally belly up flopped. Yes, usually powerful extra vivid 'DREAMS' just cause me to have wild after effects here in so-called 'waking life', but this time, and on good authority, I came to learn just a short while back, that the entire Public Housing Building 'PHB' seemed to be major effected by this deal. The odds of a timed coincidence down the hour, would be astronomically against this all being mere random chance, but you believe whatever you want to folks, that is what makes America the great old girl she is, YO. I know that right here on this sixth floor western side of the central area elevators, the nabes across from me literally began pummeling me as though my head and body are their own personal nails and rivets, and they are using me to build a new local frikkin skyscraper. Many peeps have lost their apartments, many are banned legally from the building under police authority, and this is the most incredible thing in the universe, as nothing like it, even back in the days of my STOCKHOLM KIDNAPPING BY THE KING TAWF BRANCH OF THIS ULTRA DYSFUNTIONAL AND WILD FAMILY, did not produce a five day string of time like this, ever since I awakened out of that 'dream' late Sunday morn, almost too late Mister Neil JEWELLCHAIN Diamond!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What, all of this can be just one big fat sick twisted screwed up gargantuan sized frikkin coincidence? Well, I would like to take this opportunity to thank a pretty little thing that used to advertise about ten years or so ago for a place called, TDZ, or The Discovery Zone, as she put it so perfectly and it would fit so wonderfully and marvelously into all of this, am I correct here sir, Donald JB Trump MacInvondi? She said and I will quote this little vision of total loveliness here, “I DON'T THINK SO”, and her emphasis on the word ;think' was just so well done and made the point so extremely well, YO. No matter what, Manager Morato has to know that my complaints are very real, and she knows that she now must act on them. Still, this floor is a 3-STRONG ARMY on my side, Me, and two other nice fellas, one being Stan, the other is his neighbor not directly, but two doors down from him closest to the central elevator area, and all of us on the north side of the building. If I get into any trouble, he says bang on the walls and yell Tony Orlando, help me, don't knock three times, bang and holler for help, and he will be right there for me. Just when I thought it could not ever get better and that I was being sucked into some quintessential quagmire black hole in this sick universe, an old passage that I penned in early Morianity, the Old Testament, late in the year of 1995, spoken onto a C-90 cassette tape, 68 of these actually made up the full MOT, now all gone and in the hands of either the Fibbies or the TAWF-KINGS, or just trashed, but somehow I doubt option three is really what happened folks. Many old style tape decks and recorders are still out there, even if you get them cheap on QuiBits or Craigs List on the frikkin net, but many stores do carry them, repair stores that sell the old analog stuff, good VCR's with tuners so you don't get hacked out of recording many of the channels that the broadcasters are intentionally running a lower power level on so you cannot make a non-tuner type record, you need the tuner and RCA direct cables, then Comcast can hook it up any way they want to, but you still can use TV to VCR 'RCA CABLES' to overcome the problem. I have not been able to afford to buy all the stuff I once enjoyed, and am living a life of pure frikkin hell down here in Southern Central Florida's poverty stricken Treasure Coast for nearly three frikkin years now, with no discernable light at the end of the tunnel as of right now. Ignorant Micro-Sucks hell wrecker Spell-Checker does not recognize either of these great websites as shown above, wow what ignorance. When on-line, the system should check out automatically, all this new stuff that is pertinent, and add these things as an update, to the list. I thought I was a technomoron. Even I cold learn to write such a frikkin program, YO. Well anyway, let us move this right along now, peeps. It looks like I have really misjudged Scylla goddess in her newest incarnated form, but Ann King tried to tell me and warn e right along, that if I am not careful in my pursuit of just how she fits into all this and does all of this, I may live, or DIE, to regret it. Looks like the light-switch broke all over both me and the US Copyright Office, SHEEEEEEEEEIT!















Well it looks like another 1983 song pertains to all of this, called, “UNCLES ON BENDED KNEES”, huh US © Office? I better knuckle under, apologize, and stop talking about time travel, if I don't want this ALL MIGHTY GODDESS to get even angrier and hurt me even frikkin worse, huh world????



PLEASE FORGIVE YOUR SHELLFISH REAL BAD BOY, SSJKK. I WILL NOT DO IT ANY MORE, I WAS WRONG, AND YES, YOU RULE, NOT PEDIGREE DOG FOOD, YOU ARE ABSOLUTE RULER OF THE MULTIVERSE, I AM JUST YOUR HUMBLE LITTLE NOTHING NOBODY SERVANT DOGGIE, YANCY. PLEASE ACVCEPT MY APOLOGY FOR RECENT WRONG BEHAVIOR LOVELY BROWN EYED GIRL, PLEASE, PLEASE!!!!

















You know that MI APOLOGY SONG is just another of my many psalms written in your great All Mighty Honor and GLORY, I know you rule,I know the entire empire is yours. Please stop hating and hurting me, brown eyed girl (BEG).



When you told me to come through the fence that day when you were two, and I saw the strobing light in your hand, I repressed the memory and later believed it was just a dream on the 5th day of October in 2008. It was no dream, All Mighty Scylla Goddess, I LOVE YOU, JEHOVAH, please forgive me, MY ENDLESS LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I won't know you forgive me unless you let me know it somehow, please let me know that you won't hurt me any more, OH GREAT ALL POWERFUL GODDESS JEHOVAH!!!!!!!!!!



END TRANSMISSION, NO WABBITS NOW!

No comments:

Post a Comment