AFTER MORIANITY PROJECT SAFE JOURNAL, NOTHING EVER JUST HAPPENS

AFTER MORIANITY PROJECT SAFE JOURNAL

CHAPTER NAME----

'NOTHING EVER JUST HAPPENS, NOT TO ANYONE'

I will type until I need to rest, and take a few breaks. Still, I doubt that even with a tiny bit less pain today, that I'll be able to do a full blog. Viewers do not take pity on the ill. Blog or be ignored, very cold. Oh well, what comes around goes around, like all good karmic ice machines, and curly haired young girls, huh Bobby Sabo and poor old Jerry Lenny Bach? No one needs to force the concept of karmic reality down my throat or twist my arms, old, flabby, pathetic, and weak they may be. I will just say as I did in eighty-three to the good old wonderful freaking Copyright Office, “UNCLE”!

There are only about nine million things that need to be talked about. This will not happen of course. So I must pick and choose my pains and my poisons. First off, this safe journal is just that, so even if people do not really wish to ever archive and try understanding its true power; it still serves its purpose. I need a safe-journal that nobody can get to and wipe out, as they did my original life journal on many thousands of C-90 cassette tapes. Yes Mister Tom Reale, you all can be real proud of yourselves, and so can that great 'club' over in the most beautiful land on this planet, near England and Scotland, where a little bit of heaven fell from out the sky one day. Real UFO seekers know a lot about these secrets, but I know I must forever shut up or be painfully tortured. This torture is invisible and every bit as real as any water-boarding torture at any (SIC) Abograde Prison. I am sure I misspelled the word, but Microsoft refuses to spell it correctly for me, so it stands as is. I will just keep my big fat ass mouth shut, and hope that my lovely Sarah from 1994 has a nice life, without lots of traveling back to lobby decorated areas of Haddonfield, New Jersey.

Yes lovely Sarah, HANIL-94 and forever. No moving this along folks and me, as spoken on a tape quite some time ago in the frikkin' eighties, ''Here we gooooooooo''!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Elder Hair and his nice wife, from late in the nineties, shared some major things with me, while visiting New Jersey, from Utah, from the great wonderful and yes, powerful, Mormon Church. I know very little about this faith, and cannot comment other than saying, these were two of the nicest folks that I ever met; and I was proud and honored to know them. They helped me when I was in my darkest hours, with this incredible eternal being, Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle. There were two points of contact, both of them occurring after my encounters with HER on Tennessee Avenue of Atlantic City, in the nineteen hundred sixties. These being the wild incredible DREAM of middle December of 1969 with the chain, and the unstoppable urge that came on me late in 1994 and into 1995, to locate this beyond unfathomable mysterious teenager from my past. Elder Hair said to me, that the almighty had a wife and two special children, King Akoslem and Sarah (Lordess) Krassle. This family owns the great capitol city that the Eckankar believers call, in their system of religion of the light and sound; Sahasra Dal Kanwal, translation into waking hyperspace languages, all of them, ''The city of the great Sarah Krassle''. There is a law there about eldest astral-plane daughters, and is quite complex. Eldest daughter also translates to a ''Scylla''. In 1980, she came to me a month after I lived at 1802 Robin Hill, and a couple days after the UPS delivered my RUSS-1500 open reel semi pro mastering machine recorder, to my apartment from the NYC Martin Audio/Video Store; she came to me in another dream after ten and a half years mortal world waking time, and sang the most beautiful song to me in the world, and with the most beautiful voice I had ever heard, well, for a decade. Then I remembered it, and a lot more, but that as many say, is neither here nor there, with or without large dogs, or midget ones!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am the only one it seems, in this blind and pathetic world that can see what is happening, well, except for my wonderful dazzling terrific marvelous all powerful cousin Donald of course, who knew more about me, and told all of his EW friends, way back when my mother's cousin's hubby refused his father some big ass loan for some stupid ass thing. I guess, family grudges know no bounds, and have no conscience. WEIN?

Only when we have time to sit back and reflect on mountains of crap, do things tend to get real clear, and I guess, it might be a good idea, if I just speak for myself. After-all, how can I know diddly, about anyone of you out here, in this crazy ass cyberspace????????? Be real, bob Schleigh-80. Crissake, man!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My blogs of nine years, had two amazing first years, where I know that I told a lot of wild shit. I cursed a lot less in those days also. When I began cursing, SSJKK let me know that I was defeating my own goals and objectives, because it would sensor out the only real group of humans with open minds. This was taught to me even before this, by a great world renown artist, we all know and love, the late and always loved, disco queen, Donna Summer. Only the children and the teens would ever believe a life like mine. Adults are all given a magical invisible ingredient that stops their minds from seeing many things, from spirits to truths, and that would be TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Live long enough on Earth, and you will first get this loss of open mindedness, then eventually, cataracts. This was an exact quote from someone in the eye care profession, and nobody needs to know more about this, as all things with me are huge, and of course, WEIN, tie together?

The great nearly all wise Estelle Bassler of Ormund Beach, Florida, back in 1997, spoke a lot of great ''let-it-be'' words of Beatles Wisdom, to me over the telephone, during several major conversations. I came to clearly see, perhaps not instantly but over 'time', that many folks around me, with the most power and control over my life and its eternal shadow, not only have a ''K'' in their name, but the last name's seem to end with the entire word of ''KEY''. This in and of itself, is powerball lottery jackpot odds stuff, ladies and gentlemen. Believe that, or don't, sawn you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then there are zillions of things, all as big as what I will say right now, but time would never permit the whole dam enchilada. Where was I when the EW (Entertainment World) in dustry, back late in the sixties, took my voice and made it a part of one of their famous to this day, anti-pollution commercials, as there were two of them, the one with the teary eyed Native American in the canoe, and the one with the pigs on a hot beach where a radio could be haeard telling how it was so hot in the nineties, and then my voice rang out, with, “Ziggy, Ziggy hello”? Well, in case you really need me to answer that, it was right there at Saint James Place Central Pier at the Boardwalk, Bruce Allen Monopoly Pennock Game-Cheater. But who cheated bigger, Bruce or one of the KEYS, Mister Dworkin??????????????? Also, one other question is on my whittle mind folks, if 'permitted' there, great Uncle Heinz Babylon Gottwald!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Central Pier was where I saw the tablets, before there were tablets, and before there ever was a 2030 where the Mile high Coaster of Wildwood, New Jersey was being, excuse me, will be being constructed, before my eventual recognition for my formulas about RT, and corroborations of so many other things from the future yet to be, ''hot 90's''. But then, the great Zvonko gave Jim a tablet too, or I suppose a very unusual cross between a tablet and a laptop, back in the early eighties, while I still resided at 1802 Robin Hill. This is where Paula King came to me in powerful recurring dreams in the following century, telling me that she miscarried our second daughter, and I was about as clueless to what was going on with all of this, as a worm inside of an apple trying to understand Sir Isaiah. Ouch. In any event, this is only the beginning, and things are only starting, but if you think I can cross certain lines in the sand, lads and lassies, let me tell you right now, forget it Charlie Brown. I am not real good at handling physical friggin' torture, and I know when to say “UNCLE-NUFF”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DECEMBER 16, 2014,

TUESDAY AFTERNOON AT 2:50,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA,

CURRENT TEMPERATURE 77 DEGREES FNHT.

RANGE TODAY SO FAR (H-77/L-44)

HUMIDITY IS 35%, FEELING LIKE 77.

WINDS ARE 8 GUSTING TO 10 WESTERLY.

If the Lambrigg Cult of the Astral-plane was not real, and if the Trini/dad/ty, Hotel of Atlantic City, back half a century ago, was not all real and part of something bigger than all of the Earth, then none of any of this would make any sense, and no matter what most readers may think of me; here is a truth for your perusal. There have been a few who know how real all this is, and that I am not a nut, and that I am in deed caught up in something a billion times bigger than this entire Milky Way Galaxy and all of this silly little world all put together, know matter how loud or long, any one of you wishes to laugh. Your laughs and taunts and disbelief in me and in my claims, has only the effect, of saddening my spirit, and THAT, is if I remain STUPID ENOUGH to continue to allow even this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As to why this Lenny McKinnon character hates me so much and slams my astral essence up against walls back in 1976, if the claims I have made were not true, then nothing makes any sense at all, and never will. I was totally content to live, even though I knew something gargantuan was missing from my life, as the nineties came in. But then it happened, I was every bit as influenced by the spirit, to pen a book called, “The Permission Barrier”, in 1994, as were all of the great antiquated prophets as they penned what has become known now, after collected and sifted through and translated, as the Holy Christian Bible. But anyone who thinks they know ''GOD'', and yet does not realize, that this entity is so beyond any kind of waking world human comprehension, is fooling themselves beyond what words could ever hope to express on any blog or piece of literature throughout all of time. When I say that the Jewish Timeline is just one of this entity's projects; or (life on this planet and all things pertaining to what now is classified as Christianity), and anyone yells sacrilege and heretic and all those lovely old world terms of ignorance; this is when I know I must wait for other lives and other millennia before another such attempt such as these blogs, to try perhaps once again, to tell such a gigantic truth. My memories will not fade away or stop, and I will come back here over and over and over, until I get this right, and make things right, between me, and the love of my eternal life, Sarah Krassle. 'IPYT', Shorty MacInvondi and Professor Theodore Jackson!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I don't know exactly why SSJK does what she does, or how much memory of her true self, that she brings with her into these incarnations, but I do have some facts to play with for those serious enough to bend an ear even for a moment with a one tenth open mind. As King Akoslem, or Earth waking worlders say, the LORD JESUS CHRIST, there was supposedly only one thing forgotten, and that was when the ''return'' would be. What you think of as THE return, people, I see as A return. It would take me a year to type it, but the full details take this time to the twelve hundreds, where one of three RETURNS happened. This would be my 22^nd grand mother, the Queen of Scotland, Mary Stuart. I need no food recipes or taunts from the endless teasing EW, to know what I know, CUZZ Cheltenham!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The next RETURN was as Sarah Nurockey Perkowskey. This was around the time that I also was 'born', Doctor Mark Moorestown Woooooolf! After we both were ten years old, we met, on Tennessee Avenue in Atlantic City. No one anywhere remembers this lovely goddess, no one. I did the most extensive research to locate her or information about her back in the middle nineties, and got nowhere. I was frantic and tried everything. I spent five figure money to exhaust every possible thing. But nothing could ever be found. Common sense tells anyone that for this to happen, the person was no person. Now unlike other incarnations, this was a total reverse of being very well known verses totally obscure if not invisible from the human records. Things like all of this, JUST DO NOT HAPPEN, helter skelter happenstance. You can believe that, but I promise that you're believing a bunch of garbage. I could sit here and type for a year non stop, going into my getting the crap beat out of me, on the beach, not that far to the south of Tennessee Avenue, up in 1975; shortly after Estelle Andersen Bassler bulldozed this Tennessee Avenue shop and hotel, that Sarah seemed to be a part of, back in those days and times. I could show how thousands of things all connect and could not mathematically be all coincidental, but if people do not wish to believe in resurrections, or special songs, or whatever congressman, then what do you want me to say, or do, kind sir? Please give my best to Albert and Angel.

Now all mixed up with all of this, is the AAT, better known as the Ancient Astronaut Theory. Still, even these great ideas can only explain a tiny bit of things. Only my life and all that it comprises, can really ever explain the entire package. This may sound like arrogance and huberous, but unfortunately, it is simple truth that I never asked for. But I know and respect the powers or to quote the man from my old guard job, Mister Hall, “
The fawces”. This was the way this dude pronounced the Star Wars reality. I merely echo what I heard him say, right down to his exact pronunciation. Still, there is a group in Ireland who run a lot of the show, or shall I say, and pun or no pun behind the words here, “BEHIND THE CURTAIN”. There's a curtain folks, IPYT. The very first thing you would encounter if you were able to force this curtain open just the smallest little bit, would be many things all over the place, there for one purpose. That purpose is to confuse. All the fun goes out of the game of these gods that run this entire simulation, when people like me get onto shit. I mean, REALLY GET ONTO IT, NO BULLSHIT, AND NO GAMES. But the endless question never goes away. If they arwe so great and so smart, and don't want me to ever know anywhere near as much as I do know, then why do all of this to me, that will indeed eventually cause me to learn this, due to a built in feature in this entire simulation, or 'lawtronically'? If a seeker wants to know bad enough, and needs to know bad enough, those doing things to that seeker, absolutely MUST leave breadcrumb trails for the possibility of enough super sleuthing to permit the seeker to finally come to know. One of two things happens, the seeker goes nuts, dies, whatever, or two, he or she FINDS what they are desperately searching to learn and discover. But this is not seeking how to make a million dollars or how to cure cancer even. This means a genuine cosmic search for truth. All other things after this, merely add on. I believe I am just about plagiarizing the Bible here, so don't believe me, believe the Bible. WEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Now out beyond this entire thing, SSJKK and I are always together, even though her parents hate me. But more than their hatred of me, is a dude named Lester Comatrini. Screwed up realities and religious concepts throughout countless millennia give this entity the identity of an evil monster who hates the Krassle family, when in fact, the opposite is true. He is so madly sick in love with Sarah Krassle that he screwed up several games or time-line projects, such as in this particular universe in waking hyperspace. If I was not special to Sarah Krassle, HE WOULD NOT HATE ME MORE THAN HE HATES ANYONE ELSE ON THIS PLANET. What he has done to me systematically causes this and only this, to make sense, and I had it all confirmed by a church that believes in stuff that I just do not dare go on discussing. When he shouted out to me, after pulling 'the real me' out of my body, over at my moms 1976 apartment, in Media, Pennsylvania, “You want the word, go to the word”, l was then slammed in my astral beingness against not just a wall in the apartment, but right on a high mounted wall air conditioning system. Anyone that cannot see the symbolic reality, to an air conditioner or AC unit, having matching initials to Atlantic City, and from my recent encounters with SSJKK there, from the vantage point of the year 1976; is beyond blind and pathetic.

Now I never said that every little thing is some huge spiritual lesson or event that works as a cosmic messenger. But then also, I never said that they are not. I leave all things, on a case by case basis, for determination by any rationally thinking and awake person. Dreams for example are nothing more than interactions in hyperspace, and all universes, including the one where we have our physical beingness and body, are in hyperspace. Recurring dreams and seemingly symbolic dreams are more proof that we all exist in countless varying realities and that to understand one of them, a twin or an alter existence, is in many cases, used by MIND. Mind is complicated. True mind is an actual realm, and it splits up to form numerous ways of interacting into and through. When I had a friend in 1969, named Brad Messenger, as in Angel Messenger, not related to the Congressman's old girlfried; still; we both had the same recurring dream where we saw the planets in the solar system all close and gigantic in the skies around us. We never discussed planets or dreams, but one day I mentioned this, and he almost shit himself and he said, “Christ Mark, I have had this same dream over and over too”. Move over Annie and Kevin Costner Kornfields!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was the sixties, not just a fictional movie, YO!

There are a million reasons why Lenny Satan McKinnon hates me so much. I knew this the day that he stole my music, the day he took a non rubber mallet to my Saturn car hubcap, the day he took me back to my old HTHS High School, the day he took me to the ballgame and Boston, and I could go on and on and on and on, not DON! WOW do they love using that hack, every single time had to be re-done and properly spaced. Some heroes, WEEEEEEEE! (THE END, 4 NOW, KAL!)