SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0616

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER DCXVI (0616)

MAJOR FUCKING BAD DAY BEGINNING

NOVEMBER 2, 2012 AT 6:43 AM-EDST, FRIDAY

STARTING BLOG:

THIS ENTIRE PLANET WILL BE TOTALLY DESTROYED, IF THESE WOMO-MILITUFORCE BASTARDS DO NOT LEAVE ME FUCKING CUNT ALONE AND STOP WRECKING MY ENTIRE MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAM ASS LIFE, 24/7/365.2422.

All of yesterday, my jit bag nabes were noisy. Last night they still were at it. Today at 6:15 I awoke to the other nabe with his booming television. Hall hollering, door slams, electronic shit early in the morning, and even after Debbie told me the other day wen I finally did see her on her smoke break outside of the building, that this was strictly prohibited, noise after midnight. I still hear loud ass fucking doors and loud talking, and TV and radio noise from many various units. So I ask you, where are you, Debbie Moratto, when I frikkin need you, my friend?

My computer is all wormed up and difficult to use, FBI, and old school pal, Bob McDowell, now Chairman of the Board of the Federal Communications Commission. Also, COMCAST is playing games. They never sent me that e-mail, I checked it every day since they told me that they would. No box delivery so far either. How long this bad one will keep lasting is anyone's guess. It could have been just hit with one of their covert stealthy attacks a eek ago, and now it might work normally for years, for all I mother fucking know. Then again, it could go out on me at any time, who knows. I will be calling them today, to see what is going on.

Also I tried doing something again, and could not. It always looks so dam easy, but click on it, and you get that diagnosis page and inability to do it. At least, I was able to send an e-mail and tell them there was a problem, and then receive their reply telling me that they are looking into it. I told you all years ago, it is not me being a dummy, it is the WOMO-MILI-2-FORCE being a hackey, but I suppose that is better than an old 1967 restaurant that stands no longer due to many previous angry Atlantic Ocean temper fits, called, Hackney's, or a Paula King Somnambulist either, with so many secret Atlantic City, and perhaps even other, street identities, AKA street names, or games of which I have become a forced fan of with pucks and sticks and other temper fits. Still, I have no court facts as to this and the person who has placed the GAWNUM onto a software computer disc, has had his share of recent woes, he lost his sister in law who he cared for a lot, to some very unpleasant disease, and many other things are happening as well, that need not be told and blogged. Ann King has told me an army of lies, and she knew all along that Sarah Callio's brother Frank had died in 2007, a year before I ever came to 'live' if you want to call it living, with her, and her monster hellish nightmare daughter, Dawn-Marie. Still and all, this all began during the exact time where I made fun of that horrible lousy rotten singer on Channel-57 in Philly, who advertised the Flyers Hockey in the summer of 1986, continuously, and while all of that was going down, it just happened to also be at the time where I sent the song I'd written, “Real Good Girl”, down for copyright, to the Office of the copyrights, in Washington-600-13. Now a lot of pervs have no idea about how l;ow the age of consent is down there, and always has been, to keep the great politicians out of trouble with their endless hush-hush activities with so many of their pages, throughout the history of America. Yes, politics and most politicians are not all that nice, but they try, to get our votes anyway. Still, there is a quite famous little girl who is ahead of her time and all ready is crying over the election, laugh all you want at me, not her, but this is a prime and perfect example of Space-Time-Mind acting on her. A part of this child, up in the future, is experiencing a major bad thing in her life that involves Washington elections, in one way or another, and she in her present time conscious mind only has the emotional effects of it in her waking brain, back here. This is what I have been talking about or around cleverly, for a while now, and 1983 and my situation with this changing of a song, could not be given a better example to work with.

I had to stop for a half hour, as I was given a bad shit attack. This is most likely not going to be one of my gold-letter days, and in fact, appears to be beginning somewhat bleak. The only thing ion my side of the fight is that I am good and used to having horrible rotten ass days, so what else is totally like new, folks, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA???????

On that horrible day that the nabes were so bad a number of days back, speaking of nabes, as there is a loud dog barking in the hallway as I speak, and lots of other bullshit today as well, but on that other bad day, I forgot to mention that my WOMO enemies struck me before I even got out of bed, with a UTILITY ATTACK, FCC and old pal, McDowell. Horrible monstrous fucking screeching sounds come out of the telephone receiver, waking me up with a startle. It is of course a total fucking violation of my civil and human rights, to be endlessly harassing and persecuting me to my grave with all of this fucking bullshit. But that does not stop them.

I'll keep my Morians, and L,I,L-4, and others; updated and apprised as time goes forward in the illusion.

I NOW TERMINATE THIS BLOG!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND NO WABBITS.