The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment": REPOSTS AND CORRECTIONS, VERY INTERESTING HUH SIR MCDOWELL?

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0209

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2293

THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUING FROM 1995 TAPES

BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:

“FORGET NINA, IT IS YOU WHO LIED, ED”

SEND-BACK-TEXT DATE AND TIME FILE:

CH-0209-081211.038

COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

You lied to me, Mister Edward Lynch. You told me in 2006, that somebody eventually would read my story, one person, somewhere; and decide to help me, and believe in me. This is why I paid you the 150 dollars to create the Morianity-Foundation website, pay for it to be up on the internet for two years, and continue blogging, long after I otherwise would have just totally given up on a totally mother fucking worthless cause. Don't hide, I know you lied, and now you live in Georgia. I don't hold it against you. Paul my partner told me I was gonna be a millionaire, and many other people misled me, and robbed me blind throughout many years and decades, totally eliminating any chance I otherwise might have had to make something out of my miserable rotten pathetic life. Even though I do not hold anything against anybody, even the total crooks like Cheatley and Devlin, and Marini, and Crowley, unlike Lynch and Pedersen, I do not feel that either of these dudes intentionally lied. They merely got screwed by life, and its forces; as I did, right along with them. I do, unlike them, totally believe, that first; nothing ever JUST happens, and thus and therefore secondly, I realize that powerful, and invisible, and extremely determined cosmic forces; want me endlessly kept down, and miserable; and in endless poverty; despite my wealthy family, who by now; must recognize and see me, as the absolute mother fucking proverbial black sheep, thereof; and quite frankly my dear Clark Gable Windgone, I could care totally mother fucking less about any of these back stabbers either, so there. Now with that said, let me tell the simple truth about some things, that I have never intentionally covered up, merely never really got into, in any hot and heavy direct and blunt way; at least I don't freaking think I have, during my more than six year 'blogging-career' now, YO. First, I may have used a term a few times over this 6-year-blog-project, otherwise and also known SIR PRINCE, as MORIANITY, or the PROJECT; and this term was labeled by me, in a joking way to some extent, “mafia insurance”. There was a great movie that starred Patrick Stuart, the same dude who stared in the TNG-Star Trek series as the Enterprise-D Captain, in the year of 1999, following the TNG-ST series, where this topic of mafia-insurance was the entire plot, and it is a great movie, and was re-aired just yesterday in the early morning; on one of the Showtime Cable Television channels. I seem to be discussing INSURANCE recently, and there is a good reason for this, along with the discussion of the broken promise of SIR EDWARD LYNCH. There never is any up side potential in anything for me, not ever; take my blogging shit for one quick ass example. It appears that I have now come to realize that I have totally wasted 6+ years on this fucked up stupid ass project, and this entire thing was all about getting at the truth, about my unfathomable nightmare life; and maybe and hopefully even beyond the great 1994 book that I wrote, entitled, “THE PERMISSION BARRIER”; and then to make one person somewhere, interested in helping me prove some or all of this nightmare hell around me, and get it stopped; and then go after the forces that indeed have turned my life into an agonizing and unbearable and inconceivable fucking nightmare hell; for an entire 57 year lifetime. I have even proven that many hard to believe claims, are indeed true, and can be fact checked and indeed verified. I have made postings, I have shown photos, and I have even proved that without MOVERS, or (TIME TRAVELERS), some of the many things done to me over this nearly 57 years of time now, just could not have been pulled off. The BLUEBOOK people, of course, manage with some mind bending type of MIND CONTROL TECHNOLOGY, to continue their ever present unrelenting control and total covert domination over my life, and every facet of it; right down to and including any possibility of securing even the help of one person, out of the 7 or 8 billion peeps on this planet. That seems an astronomical impossibility to me, and you all will have to forgive me for maintaining all of my opinions, based if nothing else, on just this reality of Ed's broken promise. Those the closest to me, tell me, it is not reality, it is delusion. Well, out of all the gamblers in the world, not being able to find one person willing to take the chance that it's not a freaking delusion, when the payoff is in the single and maybe even the double digit billions of USD, well; I find that more difficult to write off or believe that all I need are some meds, and sike counseling, sorry folks; this dude simply says he is not buying that. Hate me all you want to, fellow Earthers. Insurance against my total destruction is part of many things, and just as the reason that Wall Street gained 800 plus points when combining profits made on Tuesday, and Thursday, has all been explained over and over, it is ignored, disbelieved, and literally dismissed as nonsense, when it is no more mother fucking nonsense than one plus one is mother fucking two. Tuesday at my work site, I attended a meeting where life insurance was offered at pennies on the dollar, for reasons too complex to go into right now. I had life insurance, and cashed out of it, in the autumn of 2009. Mister Riches of the Prudential Insurance Company, insisted in 1985; that I get this policy, and many complex things are a part of this; that will not be dealt with on this blog. If I ever told some really powerful secrets involving a man named Hammond, who owned an Ocean pier in the 20^th century, and more details about many things, I would BE MURDERED TONIGHT, as certain things were ABSOLUTELY GOING TO HAPPEN LATE IN THE 20TH CENTURY, or so said the MOVERS. A very few handful of peeps know that I will not discuss Joe, the MOVERS creating the charitable organization known in Florida as the Harvest Food Outreach; and many other things. 'Time-Travel', is literally a part of every major, and even many minor things; that are happening, every single day on this planet; and on top of all of that truth; it is all just a great big meaningless game, by the mindset and standards of these MOVERS. MORIANITY, and only freaking MORIANITY, and its freaking teachings; explain the real and only answers, behind the entire messy ass business, and it is all so ugly, and so horrific; that folks refuse to entertain any of it, and insist on joining the WILLIAMSTOWN GIANT COPS CLUB. Only real Morianity followers or Morians, know anything about that, as most stumble onto a blog here and there, and say fuck this shit; right Henry and Jane? Well, let us speak of this, since it is perfectly fitting to do so. Here is proof that MOVERS are at work in this endless and relentless game, the movie called “12 Angry Men” proves this, and so also, does my song of 25 years ago now, called “REAL GOOD GIRL”, and has nothing to do with Robbie and the Wrestlers Club, Lisa, Dyfis, or peeps getting away with horrendous monstrous things, like taking advantage of peeps like Robbie, while accusing ME of being a family destroyer. I really honestly, and at the risk of losing contact, DESPISE this deplorable family with a thousand passions. Soon, my high school days will be upon me, and those reading this, think to themselves, huh??? Well, a movie was made about me in 2009, before I left New Jersey, to come here to Florida, and it was called, “17 Again”. When peeps in your own camp, be them family members, business partners, or whatever; refuse to believe anything, well, ED, you were WRONG, and 'you should write me' an apology song, and post it up on the U-T old pal.

As for things like BLUEBOOK, powerful trance inducing hypnosis and hypno post states, sleepwalkers throughout entire lifetimes, and insurance fraud; it is like so many other things. What is more crooked than Washington, DC? Who is lower than a politician? What is the age of consent for sexual relations in Washington, but age thirteen. And exactly why did Tom answer my “Situations Wanted” advertisement in the Press of Atlantic City, in the early months of 1970? Why the washcloths, and the Washburn's; and why did Jimmy tell me so many crazy wild things, great Copyright Examiners of the nineteen eighties? Do any of you geniuses know, or have this mighty ass answer?

I have tried to put together a horrible frightening story, and unfortunately, it involves people, and not all of them are nobody little peeps like I am, hence; this, simply said, is not permitted to ever be known. Fine and dandy. This is why I buried so many soda bottles with notes inside them, all over the tri-state area where I was living back then, begging some future time to come back here and help me. Well, they sure came back here all right, only instead of help, they enjoy me as one of their top rated games, right Julie Allcolors? Still, the lifeguard named Albright may have been involved in earlier pre-1983 telephone games with me, still, not that much earlier. When I could not get the problem stopped, no matter what I did or how hard I fought; I knew even then, that all roads led way past the Academy, Office of the Library of Congress. I did not know the exactitude's, only that something huge time was happening all around me, and that my only hope was to tell the cosmos what I was going through, and getting the message to last for a very long time, and then I remembered my old pal Plato. Still, I cannot fight the MOVERS. I know they are all around me, everywhere, controlling everything and all of this shit; and leaving me absolutely powerless to prevent any of it from occurring. Ed remembers the unexplainable shit that he witnessed around me, and in my car. He knows, and is smart enough to do his time in the can, keep his fucking mouth shut; and then get on with his life, so more power to him. When I told how they fucked me, after closing bell time in Manhattan back on Wednesday, Thursday copied Tuesday. I know what's real, and the fucking hell with the entire mother fucking disbelieving blind world, a world ignorant and blinded to the lies of the closed BLUEBOOKS, the phony WARREN COMMISSIONS, and so much more. A world filled with magic bullets, and no names to assign them to, or great families. If one needs to be sacrificed for the sake of the many and the bigger, then so be it. Well, the 1986 Whale movie, Mizz Hicks, does not agree. Mister Spock and I agree, that no one should be thrown to the mother fucking dogs, just so MOVERS can play fun games, injure peeps, and then do whatever is necessary, to hush it all up; and keep covert black-ops lids, tightly over all the evil and demonic shit, that's done by this strobe-light group of scum.

In any event, thank you, whoever you really are, for coming around today, and so many days lately, after totally abandoning me for so freaking long. I WILL ALWAYS LOVE MY BEAUTIFUL LIGHTNING GODDESS STROBE-LIGHT. If somebody has a fucking problem with this, then three little words need to be said here, and so they shall be. BRING IT ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ann, I will be calling you in a few days, as you and your daughter Elaina, should be shortly returning from your Ocean City, NJUSAESMWG vacation. We have to talk. T---H---I---S********S---T---O---P---S, or else. We need to go visit all of your cousins, and I'll be on the train very soon, and out of this Florida Oven!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CU SOON.

END OF THIS TRANSMISSION:

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER DCXLIV (0644)

TEOHIV/TMCEAM/MORPRO

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2295

SEND-BACK-TEXT DATFILE: 112612.884

BSNF: “YOU MAY NOT WANT TO HEAR IT MARCUS AND

MCGINTY, BUT THERE ARE MORIANS WHO WHO DO”

BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:

Folks, before we get into it tonight, I screwed some shit up, and not all things will be corrected right now, but one or two blogs ago; I said that my combined times at the Robin Hill Apartments, comprised of years between “1989 and 1991”; and this was a typographical error, so sorry. The 'nine' and the 'zero' are next to each other, like with the 'C' and the 'V', so on many of my un-proofread previous and precious blogs, AHA AHA Mike McNulty; I also screwed up and meant to say, that the three times that I was living there at this apartment complex, involved a time period in-between 1980 and 1991. It is funny though, is it not folks; that my last time there, at number 1102; involved a varying monthly shuffle that indeed was consisting of the years from 1989-1991. But no, I meant to type in 1980 as the left hyphenated part, and not 1989; just to keep the record straight with all of the Copyright Examiners, Carpenters, Future Traveler Banker Television Commercials, Jokers, Hackers, Lovely long haired young goddesses; and the mine field of predicted debris, spoken of by me in songs, that came to me in unforgettable dreaming-interactions, that forever altered my life through eternity. Yes Mike, again, AHA-AHA-AHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes sir people, EVERY OTHER ALTERNATE DAY, MY NABES KICK IN WITH THEIR MUSIC, and then, also on this day, came some nasty sky action in the late afternoon, along with the attack by the across the hall nutty nabes. Some CHEMTRAILS were off to my west of the building where I reside here at the PHA Building at 601 Avenue B, in good old frikkin FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA-ESMWG. These frikkin poisonous droppings from the skies, caused my nasty attack today through chemical interactions that are responsible for controlled and manipulated behavior of people, just as you hear the great artist 'PRINCE' talk about on YOUTUBE, so no need to just take my word for all of this folks, but yes, this is causing my major diareah attacks along with suffering through noisy attacks and persecutions in general from my neighbors. This has gone on around me all of my entire life. Yes, mind can be hacked into very easily by this monster ass mother fucking WOMO-MILITUFORCE enemy of mine, and I am not their soul target, but I am definitely very high up on their list to say the dam least here peeps, YO. So this day has been filled with bad shit around me since shortly after awakening today, which was somewhere in the late morning. Lots of fire alarms again, lots of various attacks on my mind and different parts of my health and physical body, lots of people-control attacks (NOISE) normally, but it can be various other types of even more forms of direct aggression when the enemy wishes for this to be so in some rarer cases. But it got real bad around half past three this afternoon, with the start of real loud music, not lasting a long time, but that short few minutes of really cranked up thumping nonsense; then shortly afterwards when I looked outside my window to see the weather conditions, there were lots of fresh chemtrails in the sky to my west, and nearby me, the type that are 3-D, where they come up at you as well as swerve around a lot. Then came the nasty cramp and diareah right afterward, and I had to clean up the shit house floor afterward, as their poisons can fuck you up to where it hits major fast and I am not able to reach the toilet before some spillage. This also involves cleaning my pajamas in the bathtub, after first cleaning up the floor with soapy water, and disinfectant solutions. Real gigantic heroes, aren't they, these totally worthless all powerful BRIGGBASE CULTIST MCKINNON WORSHIPPING SUB-SCUM OF THE ORIGINAL SUB BLACK HOLES OF COSMOS???????? Still, when all was said and done after sunset, and Roseann Delaney, wherever she is, came out to play for the day, up in Jersey somewhere; I played the non quantum system roulette, and made a quick easy two units, and quit while I was ahead; a nice two hundred bucks in a couple of minutes on the 100-dollar chip gaming level, or $50.00 on the quarter level of green gaming chips. After this was completed, I decided to ask my GAGA-CAT, before I put the wheel-cards away; the real question that has been bothering me so relentlessly for about two mother fucking months now, and that is, “Just what is behind these across the hall neighbors blasting this stereo at me, right after I just merely 'thought to myself' that I would blast some music at them for all their door slamming and shouting, both in their apartment as well as right out in the hallway at my door that is onion thin, only I never did it, yet the very next day, they began also using loud music on me, as though they could read my fucking very thoughts, or someone could, and then sent them a message, directly or indirectly”? Then I think my question while I draw first one card, then reshuffle, and I draw a second card, after taking out the cards from the deck that are not the ace through nine cards of the four suits. Both times I randomly select from the deck, one card and place it back into the deck, and reshuffle well. I write down the first and the second number or the GAWNUM ROOT. Then the PCN is the difference between the larger and the smaller number, and if the numbers are equal, then the third digit is a zero. In this case, my PRIVATE-COSMICODED-NUMBER was a 671, and an extremely powerful fucking ass answer to my query. I have only three match-book-items for PCN-671, and they are as follows:

VISION----CAN FLY----SPEEDSHIP SUNRAM

If you understand squat about the MOUNTAINPEN and his MORIANITY folks; you can instantly recognize just why this is such a powerful answer to my frikkin ass query, YO-YO-YO folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It is more than time to tell you all that on the ASTRAL-PLANE, the words SUN, RAM, and many meanings and descriptions of the Earthly waking world English language word of 'VISION' can all three be used quite interchangeably. I was never going to tell that until this day when this all happened, but wait, as there is a lot more with this yet to be told, and only a little bit more will be spilled on this blog right now, so suck it in for all that it is worth, folks. Where are you guys when Morianity needs you to verify a lot of stuff here, lovely Progressive Flo and PAWM PIE HACK PROOF Tracy Ullman? Yes, those weak and strong forces, mixed with the signal of the 6^th dimension sent down into 5^th dimensional hyperspace brains, machine as well as biological; all inside of a Controlled Lawtronic Velocitron. I suppose my wonderful daughter has a perfect word here for all of this, WOW!!!!!!! Folks, I know I have no right to make such a deal out of the way that she said it, that day so long ago, but if you listen to it on the song called, “DEAL WITH THIS ANOTHER TIME” on my YOUTUBE CHANNEL, in the opening joke right before the studdering intro-count, dedicated to none other than the great Somers Point, New Jersey, child molester, Thomas J. Reale, and not to Detective Bobby Goren of the NYC-PD-SVU, all though I really do think, that through the back door; this is someones way of letting me know that they in fact do believe my nightmare tale from hell all happened, as I have claimed, and is all the total truth; but forgive me, it is just so cool the way that she says it, in such a disappointing way, beyond what I could ever make some machine do, and this is all real shit from telephone taped conversations; the few things that made it down here with me to good old sunny Florida three years ago, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

Very soon, I will be publishing some really cool shit L-4. Just know that. For right now however, we need another really good TRS, right old pal, Jesse Ventura, and by the way, please thank your cousin for me, for teaching me how to communicate with DIANA ARTEEMIS, way back in early 1966, at the institute. I see now, that nothing just happens, and also, NOTHING HAPPENS other than this wild and incredible frikkin dream. That magical sentence that not everyone gets, will be reprinted here once again, “NOTHING IS REAL”. Oh well, I always told you that you're reading MORIANITY at your own risk, and give further advisories when you might wish to 'NEXT BUTTON OVER IT' to other blogs. Still, I entered this lovely institute against my will at the tender age of ten years and nine months, the day after Labor Day in 1965, and this was just two weeks after seeing Sarah on Tennessee Avenue, huh Mrs. Marola, and by the way, hello to you too, and also, why did you vanish on me twice; once on your street, and again in Marcucciville, AKA Haddonfield, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG? WOW!

I told my Morians and all others out here, that I would really get into some stuff, and I will, I promise you that, WOMO, and WOMO's second half. For right now, I need to post up this blog and eat dinner and go to bed, but we will get things done, all of this, my big secrets, my lost memories, proof of so much that it's just totally not disputable, my mother's 1976 near death experience told by her in her own words written in 1977 in its entirety, all GAWNUM Q&A and full match book lists going back to last summer when things began going from worse and intolerable to worse and intolerable to the fucking power of sixteen. For now, I have pales of nice new fresh fish, and am not planning to give them away, as I need to eat myself; well, hopefully that will not be misinterpreted, crissake, this is one reason that fame and fortune would never interest me, and in today's world of the photo-shop and sampler, well, someday all my words will be twisted around and re-posted on some demonic site somewhere; and the world of the future might think that I am anyone from the incarnated devil, to the risen Christ, gone insane. That is your lovely world of technology ladies and gentlemen, so enjoy it. Still, my tapes are real, unless you think I made it back, and copyrighted stuff in the early and middle eighties, from up here in 2012. Still, good peeps, can real events be messed with however, by very powerful and advanced entities, known as Type-3-Exploratrons? It is time before I close out here tonight, to just quickly begin touching on this subject, more than I have yet done so far in these 7-years of blogs almost. In 1996, shortly before Paula King showed up at my apartment at the Highview Complex, in Williamstown, New Jersey; I went off to sleep one night, and the very next thing that I knew, was being back at my old high school; the Haddon Township High School, in Westmont, New Jersey. It was late in the spring only instead of being 1996, it was 1968. I was telling a lot of peeps that I had come back here from 1968, and I was with two men, one is known all over and loved by many teenagers. The other is a friend of his. This first of many road-trips with this exploratron, was into the past, others have been into the future, such as the one with the Phillies winning the 2008 World Series, and the Halloween Day Parade, along Broad Street, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. But one thing was never told or even intimated. I never said boo, but not for the reasons of just keeping my mouth shut. I had not put some of my many many 2 plus 2's together, not until just this very ass day, folks, YO. I told everybody back in 1968 that I was from 1997, but I knew even as I was saying this to people back in time, in this powerful beyond descriptiveness, Exploratronic-Interaction, that I did not initiate; that I was from 1997, and not 1996, and so WHY is all of this so dam important, WHY? Is it because of early nineteen-eighties toy stores with bikes and trains and video-games, and being a Toys R Us kid, or does it go even deeper than that, Jimmy Burr, sir???????????????????????????????? This hit me like a ton of bricks just today while viewing some shit on television, and just why it was relevant; I do not recall now; but it was then, hours ago. Folks, 1997 was when I met the great ROBERT MCGUIRE in my adult life, on the 7^th day in February, if memories are correctly serving me, and with these EXPLORATRONS, this can indeed become a very questionable item for sure, good peeps, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But beyond even that, this is when I first spoke to Estelle Anderson Bassler, who owned the two Tennessee Avenue Hotels, back in the nineteen-sixties; and sold the Bolivar Hotel, to the illustrious and mysterious Sarah J. Karge, born on the 18^th of July in 1896. The Bolivar Hotel is where the KING PARKING LOT, or one of several of them, stood in 1997 right next to McGuire's Pittsburgh Hotel, and Erin Bar; and where he helped me to talk to Sarah Callio, on his bar telephone on that fateful fucking early February day, leading to my mother's wild dream about her dad's camp at Long Beach Island, back in the nineteen-thirties, and the money, and the property, and the sales offer; and on and on; and then led to the totally unexplainable medical condition that led to my mother's eventual lingering horrific death, right after the turn of the century. This also was when my song, written and copyrighted in 1983; was borrowed by the All Mighty SSJK, in a cute and unmissable way, to let me know our connection, and how we are endlessly and eternally 'CHAINED' together. I could go on and on and on, but won't, so don't sweat it folks. Still, this was the real focal point and gateway into these two times, 1968 and 1997. The details of just how and why are a bit sketchy yet, but give me some time to frikkin work on it folks, and when I figure it all out, you'll be the first to know about it. Hay, the Phillies did win it, and the high school was real, as I really did tell those classmates of mine that I was repeating a very long looping time life, and was over 8,000 years old. This is documented with the school board. It is not me that is crazy, but others who have successfully managed to completely cover up a lot of really unfathomably powerful humongous monster shit. This is why I am determined to keep reliving this cycle loop, and get it right eventually, and if I cannot; then I will keep coming back and doing this over and over forever and ever. This is all where it begins, right on that train, heading from Westmont into Haddonfield, right Sabrina Trance Collins? Diana has told me if I stop renting out the Flower Wing at my Ricktown Manor, and throw the family out of there, things will alter, but every time I try to go down there, Barnabas bites my throat out. Who knows, maybe this is why my glands are all fucked up physically, and yet the condition remains invisible to all of the waking world medical professionals, because the problem is occurring out on the fucking ASTRAL-PLANE. Who can ever really know? Yes, the Capitol City on the entire Astral Plane is indeed filled with hundreds of quadrillions of huge brilliant lovely colored lights, that are all over three and four hundred story skyscrapers, like nothing any waking world architect could even begin to envision. All around the great Sarah-Stacey Krassle's beautiful shop, she has even greater and more special colored lights, especially on her 16^th birthday, which seems to be all the time and forever, or really, out there in forever. Then even she, so it seems, dreams stuff in here, am I wrong Clarence Harris? Merry Christmas to you too, Mayor Jul. 555555555555555555555555, guess the time!

Lots more stuff to talk about later on good Morians. See you later on, if I have not been murdered by OTAMM, that is!!!!!!

END TRANSMISSION:

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0404

(BEING HACKED BOB MCDOWELL OLD SCHOOL CHUM)

(COMPUTER HACKING AND ILLEGAL COVERT STRIKES

ON MY PERSONAL PROPERTY, SIR, ARE MAJOR, FCC!!!)

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2294

SBT DATFILE: 041912.998.798

ABOVE DATFILE ORIGINALLY POSTED BEFORE

POOFING OFF AND LOST OFF THE SAVE SYSTEM FOR NO REASON, OTHER THAN MAJOR HACKING.

NEW DATFILE: CHSJ-0404-042012.004.955

TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995-T

BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:

“YOU DON'T WANT ME TO JUMP BACK UP TO FIDDAM-3”

HAY PAULA-WAYV, TELLEM ALL 2B-CAREFUL, YO.

A BIG DADDY TIN EAR MORON, KNOWS WHEN A BLOG IS BEGINNING, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

55555555555555555555555555555555555

I was talking in a past blog, SJ-CH-0402, about 1986, American Express, roulette playing in Atlantic City casinos, and quite a bit more, all stuff that leads into automobile accidents that were not accidents, Hammonton, advanced virtual reality technology or (AVRT), pronounced as avert, and an accepted word to boot, to which I admit, and confess, 001, that I do not know the word's definition, so my dictionary will be used later, oh wait a minute, I cannot believe I am such a stupid freaking bloody shoe wearing mace can carrying childless moron right now, of course I know the word, as in someone averting a major catastrophe, DUH, I am losing it folks, along with everything else so it seems. Getting back to cases now, a book was written by me in 1994, called, “The Permission Barrier”, and was sent down to Washington, DC, on Halloween day, October the 31^st in 1994, mailed from National Park, New Jersey, if my memories are serving me at all accurately.

LSS, this book was only a rough dictation onto a small portable Radio Shack forty dollar cassette tape machine, but it did a good job making twenty-four C-90 tapes, containing my book, TPB. In it, I slipped, not needing Life Alert or anything, I mean a slip of the tongue and also a Freudian lip slip, and said the name Sarah Krassee. When Sarah Krassle identified HERSELF to me in what you all call a vivid powerful 'DREAMING-INTERACTION', back in December of 1969, she even spelled her name. As with the Lord Jesus, and some of my songs, and other stuff in this world as well, because it is impossible to believe that all this could have happened to me, you all out here viewing it say, 'nawwwh', can't be, and move on. Trouble is, it is oh yeah butt wipe. Now in the same exact manner as with this, when I was just fifteen years old, and after this amazing experience occurred in that Oaklyn, New Jersey, USAESMWG apartment that night, I awoke with a bang, found a gone-missing chain that a real honest GODDESS had come in the night and removed, with or without Melanie's keys or other things examined a while back when I was trying to rationalize what had happened which is KT Dairy Queen ridiculous to try doing; and also folks, an extremely clear observation in and with that famous present 20-20+ hindsight; but my point B4I totally lose it, is that because I searched and searched and could never ever find the name of KRASSLE in the human world anywhere, a stupid idea since SHE is All Mighty Goddess and not a mere human mortal, Hyundai time; along with Hammonton forest fires and Hanging in there Huntington's but yes, moving the point along peeps, because I could not find KRASSLE, I assumed that I remembered this powerful “DREAM” wrong, when in fact and truth, I did no such freaking thing. HER NAME IS SARAH KRASSLE, or LORDESS of the mighty ASTRAL-PLANE KRASSLE FAMILY. The last name of all of them, is translated into the English language of 1969 times and still now in 2012, as KRASSLE, and similar names now are in existence, but I still know of nobody, that spells it as SHE spelled it for me, in that powerful interaction so long ago. Lordess or Sarah Krassle is part of a huge Olympian family on the Astral Plane. All the gods and goddesses we hear about in myths and on television documentaries, they all have this secret last name, not secret there, but nobody on this waking world Earth seems to know this name, their great name, my blogs can say it from now to eternity, but I am just a nobody; who listens to me? Still, this IS the last name of all these cousins of gods. SSJKK is the absolute most powerful and greatest one of all, under a secret law created by the ever existing, all mighty ASTRAL WORLD AUTHORITIES, or the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL; and this is called the 'SCYLLA INHERITANCE LAW', SCYLLA MEANS “FIRST DAUGHTER”, all throughout the great capitol province of Olympia. Other surrounding provinces may have varying wordage differences in sort of the way we have folks in the waking world that may be able to speak many languages, yet have what we define as accents, as they pronounce things slightly off because it is not always their native tongue. When I could not find the name of KRASSLE anywhere, back as a young teenager, after a year or so, I figured I heard this wonderful lovely giant goddess wrong, and began calling her Krassee, after shortly upon my awakening from this wild experience, maybe a few months later in early 1970, I began seeing a repeated commercial for vision and eye care, and it showed a family in both an optometrist office, and later on being fitted in an eyeglass store for glasses. The young girl in this commercial spoke a sentence, and I only remember to this day, the part of that sentence where she said, “All of us Krassee's want to take care of our eyes”, this is either a perfect or near perfect quote, but the name is smack dab on the money. So I began for years and years, thinking of this special girl as Sarah Krassee. In my book from 1994, “TPB”, I slipped, and instead of saying whatever fake name I should have said, I said right on the tape, and it should be in the Library of Congress to this very day, while speaking of Jim Pratt, the evil character from the great Colony-256 far out into deep space, in this book, SHE was about to perform a great concert, just as SHE does do at Monolazarium Square in HER great city, called, Sahasra Dal Kanwal, owned in majority under the SI Laws, only I slipped and called HER by name in the book, only the name I was now calling her as a result of never finding the name KRASSLE any place in the exact way that she had spelled it for me in that power house dreaming interaction back in December of 1969, so I pronounced it Sarah Krassee. Hay, except for her very fave number of '7', the alphabet value in these names at the 6^th letter out of the total 7, this difference would not exist. The one E changed to be 7 letters further down the alphabet would change KRASS-'E'E to KRASS-'L'E. So the magic of 7 worked on my mind to compensate my being 2 dumb to realize, gee, I am not going to be able to just look her up in some phone book or something, all though for many many long years, I tried so hard to find this magical girl, through many a long dark stretch of numerous winters, when my mother would go out on her dates, as my parents were divorced, and of course my dad was only interested in treasure salvage, but then; if he had not been doing this he might have been there, and I would not have been alone trying to pursue finding this mystical magical goddess of the dream world.

Now this is only a tenth of a percent about the story of how this search for this great goddess went on, and then suddenly around the time I turned legal age or eighteen, it was becoming slowly a memory of silly childhood fantasy. This would be a proper way of operating and if anything an overdue incident, but not in this special case, because folks, and 001, this is no fantasy goddess, it is the great all mighty GOD that your world has been worshiping for thousands of years now. It took me until the end of the 2^nd millennium to realize that, and then nearly another decade B4I was really starting to see the all encompassing total truths to all of this seemingly impossible and irrational stuff. It seemed irrational when Jesus walked on water, or was laser retraced with LTDDT, from World Labs, and it seems irrational that (walking on water) is a powerful intentional clue to it all, as it was at WATER and WALKER STREETS, where this powerful thing happened to me that concerns how I first learned about the World Laboratory up in the future.

NOW MY WONDERFUL MORIANS, here is where it gets a little tricky, and PHASE-4, confessions and all.

It is all on the blogs that I know led to the great TV show that 001 is connected with. I know I told how I was too old to, but did it anyway, was laying in bed, creating this wonderful super girl goddess, SARAH, not that she was not first in Atlantic City in waking life, and not that SHE did not come to me in a powerful dream, take a chain out of my apartment closet strong box, and then in waking life it really was gone the next day, and not that the giant asterisk chemtrail was not in the skies all over the county the following day; that is all real life waking world history. That happened, no question about it. I am saying that I would roll up some blankets and in the darkness, pretend I had HER with me, and then drift off to sleep in a fantasy, and this created a lot of what is now happening. Well, this may have been spoken as an old confession on old blogs, but there is a higher truth, and that truth is called PHASE-4. Let me try and explain this. Phase and Type are not the same things now so please do not get them at all confused, or do what Dawn King would tell me not to do in vulgar lingo. I will now explain the phases.

The great VOID, or zero dimension, that is a collective of existence that is beyond your mind to grasp, and mine, as mind is an unknown energy source or type that comes out of this void by way of a special trick that can actually reduce the void to a sub void and then burst out by literally cocking a spring-coil that would be more powerful than a vigintillion universes to the vigintillion power of googalplex universes, and just as a child loads a dart gun by pressing the dart into the gun that is a big spring that then clicks a gear that can only then release by the button or trigger of this gun. At least in my day these toys were at all the local toy stores, remember I am coming up on 60 folks, I do not think with this new PC, most of you even know what the fuck I'm talking about, but then that is also standard procedure most of the time, so I've been told, AHA AHA McNulty. So as with this dart gun, this force of less than nothing suddenly opening back up to nothing, would create an unlimited reaction of escape, dreaming out of this void, and existing as an aware universe, or a powerful god, as carbon entities later come to be, and in their mental infancy, see so many misconceptions and false ideas. In any case, phase-1 is this void. Phase-2 is where this void dreams out away and into, and that would be the next possible largest thing than its previous void state, the SUBATOMIC realm, or ASTRAL-PLANE. This is where entities later on, not in time later but in interaction later, don't try and get it, you won't; but then they dream even further down into this life, a series of dreams into this 5^th dimensional hyperspace of virtually countless space-time 4^th dimensional parallel universes. The being awake in tangible physical caporial life, in this here and now; is PHASE-3. Phase 4 is an entirely different situation, as it comes as a result of two things. First it has to do with Phase-2 entities or Astral residents/entities attempting to enter this dream down here, or waking normal life, in ways not accepted by a set of built in regulatory systems, in the 7^th dimension above the MIND REALM itself on the 6^th, and this set of rules from this 7th-D is known by Astral entities while there, as LAWTRONICS. Lawtronics prevents vampires for example from existing in this waking world as PHASE-3 beings like us, but instead, it alters them into PHASE-4 entities, meaning simply, that a phase-4 entity is simply the energetic counterpart of the imagination and fantasy of Astral Plane beings. So when the great James Patterson gets a brainstorm new idea next month or the one after that, and writes another book, well, these ideas that he 'thinks' are his own ideas, are really, PHASE-4-ENTITIES who tried to break the LAWTRONICS in the D-7 circuitry, and ended up as a result of getting into this waking world as a fictional character or even an entire television show or whatever. All of this is energy of the Phase-4-Entities, all the music, all the movies, all the books, all the ideas, all of it, it wanted to exist here; Sherlock Holmes, Jack McCoy, all of them, they are actually real, and wanted to come here; but instead, the LAWTRON WORLD altered them from going Phase 3, and into PHASE-4, where we can enjoy them, but they cannot effect us, well, not as much as they want to, but yes, of course, you all guessed it, there is more to this story for other times, as we all know how shows have effected peeps, and made them do way out things, even commit murder. So relating all of this back now to my being in the dark in bed with wrapped up blankets, thinking I am creating the great Sarah Krassle, remember, that all fantasy, is real energy on the Astral World that was only able to make it down onto the waking world as PHASE-4, or the imaginings and ideas and so forth, of an all ready awake PHASE-3-ENTITY, such as you or me. I did not create this future from those past fantasies. Phase-4 energy came here and used me, and for reasons that are only starting now in 2012 to make any kind of possible rational sense. This is why that Speedship I designed right at these times, all fits into this, along with my later learned abilities to swim with Lap-Lane Joan at Haddonwood Swim Club, without swimming. It also is why the hypnosis done at Mark Wolf's Clinic in early 1996, made me remember Sunram and Atlantic City, and then after that, poured out all the repressed shit about SARAH, and the forgotten childhood past, that was not meant to be forgotten, but then your entire family seemed to know this would drive me crazy, Mister Butcher of five minute quiet on Haddon Avenue. I'm only joking unless your family has similar secrets as mine does, but I know that horrible thing you did to me that you need to be confessing about if you are not all ready dead and it's too late for you. But all of this does not come close to how it interconnects with 1986, 15-17 years in the future from the asterisk chemtrail days of stolen motor cycle chains, and burned BOBS. Roulette in 1986, began teaching me the biggest secrets of the universe than ever, way greater than any of this shit spoken of so far. I have magical secret information that if I ever really confessed totally to, sir 001, I would be taken in the dead of night to A-51 or wherever you end up, buzz, buzz, buzz, DJDS, and it would really get hot for me. So I am limited to pillow talk as well as the entire story to 1986 roulette, and even to rediscovered wonderful daughters; who yes, I do fully understand, are scared to death of all of this horrendous stuff. I don't blame you one bit, lovely Labber of any time, and if I were talking about another lovely Labber who dances the disco more than the tango, I would be forced to say I suppose; lovely Labber of any time or place, right Mister CAMDEN COUNTY PROSECUTOR of 1989, SIR RONALD WIRTZ? Hay, you tried, you did your best. But I do not appreciate what Doctor Housel's cousin pulled, as I definitely remember the law changing overnight in my sleep, as Ed was allowed to have a computer and just not an internet connection, originally, and then pow; it changed overnight and they took his machine, and since I could not keep up the dues, and it was not a free website, that was the end of my great first website, the MORIANITY FOUNDATION. They still have this laptop, and on it, is my website, or was, called www.morianity-foundation.com/ on a CD-ROM-DISC. I paid 150 dollars for this job, ACPO, and was never informed that Mister Lynch was not allowed to do this for me. Also, not only did he never tell me he was on the sex offender registry, EDWARD LYNCH, of Georgia Avenue, in Atlantic City; but the Parole Officer, who I spoke with told me that Ed could have a computer, and do this website for me; then poof, one day I woke up and the entire laws had changed. This is what I speak about folks when I talk about the real Harry Potter magic, this EXPLORATRONIC activity that can in no other way explain any of this, right down to the vanilla and the chocolate cupcakes, from the great Leticia Tilley's Egg Harbor, New Jersey, Incollingo Grocery Store; on the Julia White Horse Pike, near the train station!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wow do twins run in this powerful family, right Cuzz Sandy Mace???????????????

555555555555555555555555555555 to compensate for again being on fucking page eleven of eleven, yes, 55555555555555555555555, my beautiful McLovely number five, speaking of Sandy Mason, daughter of my wonderful long lost Uncle Stuart Huntington Mason, who was the son of Grace Isabelle Huntington, who was the 5^th grand daughter of the great founding father, Samuel Huntington, Governor of Connecticut until his death in 1790, and signer of the most great wonderful awesome document, known the world over, the Declaration of Independence; hopefully my kid will be proud of her great heritage some time, or after the Harner Syndrome dissipates one day, perhaps. SHEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!