Thank
you so much, lovely LIGHTNING (Diana Arteemis) for visiting me late
this morning. Your utter beauty never ceases to amaze me. I want my
viewing audience to know that the compilation blog doubles as PART 5,
CHAPTER 00199 (V-CXCIX). Now as for a year and a half ago, and the
great Jessica Grant Avenue and the General, her relative; she fired
me because I told things that folks were unable to handle, not
because I had hot-spells, and poured water all over my jersey to
avoid passing out. I did most of the hard work there, let her burn in
the furnaces of STM, 4 all I give a heck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The publish button will not work for some reason tonight, mister
McDowell of the FCC. Let's try once again.
SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0351
SUPPLEMENTAL
ENTRY FROM MARCH 4, 2012, RE-PRINTED SEPTEMBER 11, 2013
START
OF 'WHATEVER', CONG. RA:
Watch
the giflies today,
transdimensional
owner of HADDONWOOD SWIM CLUB of New Jersey, near the big MALL!
This
CHEMTRAIL SIEGE will not back off, and it's just about the worst one
ever since this nightmare began around me at the American Honda Plant
on Gaither road, in Mount Laurel, New Jersey, USAESMWG, in December
of 1987.
It
is the afternoon of Sunday the fucking fourth of March. March is
normally a bad month, but the first four months of the years are
normally the worst for me, in areas I have lived in over the past
nearly 60 years, being Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Florida.
Once
upon a time, if I got up on the YOU-TUBE and viewed a bunch of
'CHEMTRAIL' videos, and made comments and told stories on them, to my
fellow sufferers of this putrid nightmare, it would stop literally
overnight at least in my area, always to return of course,
eventually, but it always stopped. This however seemed to stop about
six weeks or so ago give or take. Now I can go up there and yell
CHEMTRAIL and tell my personal story and tell folks to Google up my
blogs, THE BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, and hear the truths about this
horrendous monster hell, but it does not stop, it just propagates a
sort of arrogant worsening of the attack, and in any event it just
will not relent in this filthy nightmare year of 2012. It is nothing
I have seen before folks. Also it is based on how weak they have all
ready made us, physically naturally, but in addition, and in a group
area throughout all of the local various control experiments that are
conducted by this extremely secret global air force system, (GAFS),
but yes, the spiritual and basic overall mood depression that it also
causes, are all factors to be considered with this hellish crap done
against billions of citizens worldwide. One secret I do know is that
it all connects the mighty and evil demonic WALL STREET of America's
Manhattan. Given certain DNA, different things physically happen as
well. I've not experienced this daily nasty cramping and diareah
attack every day just about for many weeks, since the late eighties
and throughout the nineteen-nineties. My irregular heartbeat and
arrhythmia's are also back, caused by these filthy rotten jet
poisoning attacks that just will not fucking relent. If anything
happens to me, I was murdered by this horrible unspeakable abominable
CHEMTRAIL ASSAULT SIEGE on me in 2012, peeps. This is no joke. Do you
really think I'd post a song on the YOU-TUBE the other day like
'CHEMTRAILS OF 1987', if this was
not fucking deadly ass serious, effecting myself, and also the entire
world. I have said all along in my 6+ year blogging career now, that
if this can all happen to me; it certainly cannot be just about me,
and that you and all of your offspring are also in major frightening
ass danger as well. In my case, air attack began in 1986. It began
getting bad when the 177th Airborne Division of the USAF
declared war on me for going to the New Jersey Casinos and making
continuous money week after week, playing Roulette, with the almost
magical system of using applied Parallel-Event or for short, using
the APE against the casinos. Then it worsened after I told my pal
David Roth about the great Sarah-Stacey Krassle, and what she
seemingly was all about, also in the spring time in 1986. We
instantly came out of a diner where this was told to him while we
shared a dinner, and we were set upon by local Evesham Township or
Medford Township Police, off duty, with guns and dogs. The
persecution was blatant, and for no reason; and my mother was refused
so much as a small apology later that evening, when she called 'the
house' to complain about the matter. She was told that her son and
his friend happened to just be at the wrong place at the wrong time.
This all slowly led up to David and me making an appointment with the
Camden County Prosecutor on the 5th day in December in
1989, leading to the soon to follow television show, and the greatest
law show to ever pass this worldly way may I add, “LAW &
ORDER”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still a 3rd and
final catalyst was all mixed up in things in the 1986 year, and this
was right after I made the trip with David over to the Big Apple, and
ran into a daughter that I would not come to learn was my daughter
for another 22 years while a major plan was being executed with me,
and began by my meeting a neighbor of her cousins in a rooming-house
owned by a Hammonton, New Jersey Judge, named Frank Raso. The story
is ten times wilder than any James Patterson book you can get your
hands on, and this is because it is true, and truth is always much
stranger than freaking fiction. How many times do you read stuff in
fiction where a dozen of the top female recording artists all connect
together by random chance; or is it? How may times do you read about
stories such as going to a job and strangers pulling up in their car,
blasting certain disco music at you with their car stereo, and saying
word for word, stuff to you that you had just said in the privacy of
your own home with peeps in there; that they should have no way of
possibly knowing about, and they spout off a direct quotation, such
as that night where this butt wipe told me, “Your pants don't go
all the way down to your shoes”, and it was pitch dark, and there
was no way that he could see this from his vantage point inside of
his car.
When
I first moved here, I had a pretty harmless dude across the hallway
from me. He did play his music and television on the loud side but
nothing like Mister Subs next door when he gets going. He did not
slam in and out for hours and hours, or entertain huge crowds of
folks all the freaking time. I move in here, he shortly goes the way
of the winds, and in comes these total fuck head whackadoodles. This
however is not a new phenomenon with me; and has been ongoing ever
since as far back as I can clearly mother fucking remember.
When
I got up earlier today, the sky was totally CHEMTRAIL FILLED, both
with new as well as dissipated old messes of CHEMTRAIL POISONING. One
jet was heading north, going at a total zenith right over my mother
fucking building, low and nasty, spreading major poison and making my
heart do disco dances and my chest wheeze, and my diareah continue. I
know the parallel event, and the boom on fucking crooked WALL STREET
is all behind it, as it has been since this all began in late 1987
and then into 1988, never fucking looking back a single second since.
It is out of the worst nightmare that 1000 Spielberg, King, and
Patterson writers, could not all collude together to create this
great of a fictional story.
Another
new thing is this WOMO ENEMY slime dirt and sub sleaze, never kept it
up without a break in the string, ever before, if my PUSSY-COMMAND as
a result got so incredible, and folks it is off the scales. I am
being approached by many many lovely goddesses between 18 and 30, and
here I am about two and a half years shy of age sixty, it makes
absolutely totally no sense in the so called real world whatsoever.
It is pure major parallel event, and something I have noticed without
fail since around the time David and I went to and met ADA Ron Wirtz
and Donna Spinosi over at the CCPO, in Camden City and County, in New
'Hicks' Jersey. Also, when Magnesonic counter-strikes via successful
electronic production of turning energy into sound, when those sounds
are inter-dimensional in nature in one way or another, this normally
shuts this persecution of me right down for a series of days, for the
very most part, but not this time, as something in 2012 is very
ominous and different than all of the time before with this problem,
when it all began in 1986 escalating to an unfathomable point on the
15th of August, in this nightmare year of the ax, not the
ox, you know, “getting eighty-sixed”, BUT YES, ON THIS DAY I
LITERALLY AWOKE INTO A DIFFERENT WORLD THAN THE ONE I HAD LEFT TO GO
TO BED IN THE NIGHT BEFORE. The night before, I was with Dave and had
a letter to be mailed before driving back home, it was to the United
States © Office, and it was a musical project, its title track was
named for the song that was included in the album collection group,
“REAL GOOD GIRL”. By accident and to
be official, I misspelled the project as “Real good girl”,
forgetting to capitalize the G in both the words GOOD as well as
GIRL. The full story to this is so horrible however and filled with
revolting things, that it is unbloggable.
As
I speak around ten past four now, these across the hall neighbors are
being super fucking annoying, bing bang boom, in and out in and out,
like can't you dumb ass holes make up your minds whether to be in
your mother fucking apartment or outside of it, DUH?
I
will not lie. I am planning to go far away to where this scum cannot
hurt me any longer. I plan to copy Count Petoffi of the Dark Shadows
hit sixties television show. Still be it Richard Marcucci or Andreas
Petoffi, I don't want to blow either of their minds, Russell Thaxton,
with or without my brand new Chevy trucks. Well while I was employed
at the RPL Sound Studios, from late July of 1979 through middle March
of 1981; and living at the great room in the sun,, called 1802 Robin
Hill Apartments; I did in fact drive a Chevy, a nice new green Nova
automobile. It served me quite well. But then, those days existed in
a totally different Bruce Goldberg Hyperspace Reality. Funny old dog,
life is folks. He writes a great book, I write him and tell him I
want to become one of his patients; and I never hear back. Yet David
Roth had a writing correspondence with every great female recording
artist of the times, back in the day; so I'm left to wonder what wild
paintings are hiding in his great Philadelphian
closets, over on Oakland Avenue, in the eighties? I can't get
anyone to even send me back a letter all my life, except for two
Jersey Governor's. I will admit this, but since 1986 when all of the
world turned upside down, along with Jesus Young, and Aron Polanski;
I couldn't even get the hocked face girl down the road, to answer a
letter. Now during air sieges like the
one of 3 solid weeks now, things do change on this front. But I am
not including supernatural, and unexplained paranormal, and esoteric
stuff here; only regular normal waking world events and situations.
Last
night I was in a powerful dreaming interaction where a tidal wave had
struck the East Coast of America, and I'd been hurled back into time
a short ways, to shortly before it struck. I was trying to warn
swimmers and peeps all over, while they swam around and played on the
beach, and soon all began mocking me and laughing at me. Oh well, I
do not have any friends sucking weeds at the bottom of any bay, but
as you know very well, old pal and Your Eminence Pope B-16, and
visitor of the Middle Road area of Blueberryville; the missing story
of how Jesus practiced resurrecting peeps, began at the same era in
his physical life, as I first met him as Sarah in Atlantic City, on
10-S-C Avenue. Hopefully, my wonderful human part of Scy, has made
sure that no one is down there in those murky frog infested waters.
Still this story remains endlessly unbloggable, right Your Em? It
only matters that we know.
YES
GINA, DID I NOT TELL YOU THAT THE DOW JONES WOULD GO UP 5,000 POINTS
BACK IN THE TIME NOT EVEN TWO YEARS BACK WHEN THEY KILLED MY BLOG
DOWN HERE IN FLORIDA, AND FORCED ME INTO BEING ONLY A LITTLE
TWEETY-BIRD. IT WAS BARELY TRADING OVER 8,000
FUCKING POINTS, AND AFTER THEY STARTED FUCKING WITH ME, AND
NEVER STOPPING; IT HAS NEARLY DOUBLED. Yes I believed
in you Mister President, once; but you promised not to help WALL
STREET, and you said that they just 'DON'T
GET IT', oh they get it all right, and they use their
Hitler Tactics on innocents like me; but I had hoped you would not be
their friend, and you have disappointed me terribly, sir. GO GO GO GO
OCCUPY. You
are fighting pure evil empire scum here; and I WISH YOU ALL THE LUCK
IN THE WORLD. YOU'LL FREAKING NEED IT, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
At
least when I make a prediction, it FUCKING COMES TO PASS, AND ALWAYS
WITHIN ONE OR TWO FREAKING YEARS, BRAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YES GINA, T-- O--L--D ***** Y-O-U. Just
as you told me when you went onto break not my hair, how that hack
worked was pretty fucking good, old pal at the FCC, McDowell; no my
arm, not my frickin' hair, folks.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMagnesonic,
my super machine, all special and general orders, you know exactly
what to do to this wickedness around the globe,
AND-----------------S---T---O---P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Governor
Sam Huntington, 7th great grand daddy, I sure wish you
could hear me and help me; as this EVIL EMPIRE that all of you
created so beautifully, has gone the way of unspeakable WASHINGTON
POLITICS, after-all, the age of consent being 13 years;
IF THIS DOES NOT TELL THE STORY, ALL THE CHEMTRAIL SONGS OF THE
WORLD, OR TRAIN TRIP RIDES, SURE WON'T. NOT FROM HERE TO LAKE
OKAY-2-CHOKE-ME. Oh Shirley, where is my pal Fred Hinger from the
MET, and will he ever surface over the freaking radar? Using too much
power is like spending too much time in space. We all have a limit to
our lifetime exposure to rad-amounts. Playing
with time also can kill you, Ding Man, so be careful, old
huh-hammer-buddy!!!!!!!!!!!!! Kids need a dad around, ass hole. I
know this, since my dad was off looking for treasure, when I needed a
dad; so be a man. Stop messing around with magnetics, like the old
1983 song says, and I should know; 'I wrote the song', huh Barry
Manalo?
Well,
fuck this evil world, and let me close out and relax. I am feeling
shitty after 3 straight weeks of being weakened by FILTHY HORRIBLE
CHEMTRAILS. This is why I posted my song on the YOU-TUBE about this.
Go there and type in “KING NEBNOOSHOO”, and then click the video
that reads the title “CHEMTRAILS OF 1987”, YO. TANKS PEEPS.
BYE-BYE.
END
OF 'WHATEVER' CONG. RA:
Post
Script:
What
you say on-line, just as the TV media says, CAN indeed get you fired!
One
week after this was posted originally to my two blogging web-sites,
the Wordpress and the Blogger; my boss at the 25th
and Orange, here in Fort Pierce, Florida, Miss Jessica Grant, came up
to me late that morning, and told me to go home, I'm all done there,
''plipped'', fired as we say in these times not 80 years away yet.
But right after she and her boyfriend Darius Evans read this blog,
was that next day where she canned me up at the HARVEST. Their
website is as follows: http://www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/
and there are no November eleven coincidences Yogi Berra, then, or
back on the eighth of August in 2008, dreamers! In-between the fourth
and tenth of March, she drilled me on how I can be white and claim to
be you know who. Free country, yeah believe this and be a fool. Be
good to yourself, Deezy Slim. Keep hipping and hopping, Herb
Huntington sees all.
8888-8888-8888-8888-8888-8888-8888-8888-8888-8888-8888-8888-8888-8888-8888-8888
I
TRIED TO POST MY BLOG UP TO BLOGGER, AND THE PUBLISH BUTTON IS STUCK
OR BROKEN, NOTHING HAPPENS, BOB MCDOWELL, FCC CHAIRMAN. MY COMPUTER
IS SO FILLED WITH WORMS AND HACKS, IF I HAD A NICKEL FOR EACH ONE I
WOULD BE A DAM ASS MILLIONAIRE.
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