The Continuation of "The Epitome of Harassment": Chapter 27, Sarah Krassle Owns And Rules This Planet

I have to do some things that may or may not work; but if I sit idly by; I'll be mother fucking cunt lapping dead and gone very soon, at the hands of evil empire fucking America and Wall Street total fucking filthy garbage!!!!!!!!

NOVEMBER 18, 2015,

WEDNESDAY EVENING, AT 6:12,

HERE IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.

CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS 76 DEGREES FNHT.

TEMPERATURE RANGE TODAY-------(H-84/L-75).

RELATIVE HUMIDITY IS 94%, AND IT FEELS LIKE 81.

WIND IS SE AT 13, GUSTING HARD TO 33.

I put up with light distant chemtrailing that made me sick and cough, and they have been poisoning me for a while now, making me cough, as well as sicker and sicker, on top of murdering me with stomach death rays, and death beams, from covert Tesla death ray technologies from demonic AREA 51.

So we suffer and we suffer, and we wonder, and I wonder; why then is no one ever EVER in any hurry at all, to go to HEAVEN, and be rid of “THE DEVIL”?

Spain has it.

What are you looking for?

To copy this nice whittle photo, Elmer Fudd, for me whittle bwog!

CULTURAL
GASTRONOMY
ROUTES
SHOPPING
URBAN

YO Bagman.

NOW WE ALL KNOW WHOSE SIDE WALL STREET MUST BE ON, THE SIDE OF MOTHER FUCKING EVIL ROTTEN TERROR AND TERRORISTS. OTHERWISE, HOW CAN THEIR MARKETS SHOOT UP NEARLY A THOUSAND FUCKIGN POINTS IN THE 3 TRADING DAYS THAT DFOLLOWED THE BLITZ OF FUCKING FRANCE, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO

YO Bagman.

Crown me king, King family, and Checkers Martinez/O.

Spanish Treasure Galleons, and all secret museums, and secrets of them; yes sir, old coworker and pal, Roy Carl Weiler Senior, at Cifaloglio, and resident of Egg Harbor City, on Philadelphia Avenue, and curator of the Round House Museum, up north a mile or so near the great Detention Center they call Harborfields. So why did Ann and Dawn King laugh all that time, and watch me sleuth around, thinking this was not a real place, and knowing full well that it was?????????????????????????????

OR ''WHATEVER”; huh old buddy Bob Andrews?

Get ready for my return, AGAIN, to Haddon Township high school. I'll be the only fucking jerk off at that dick licking joint who knows it has been 1966, 1967, and 1968, over and over and over again, well, for me anyway, YO Bagman!!!!!!!!

Sarah Krassle Owns And Rules This Planet,

CHAPTER 27

Yes, you got it people; the great and powerful non-OZ Copyright Office, has all of this evidence tucked away in my music project files, UP THERE in good old wonderful WASHINGTON, in the great and powerful DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA. Oh Poolroy, go home already!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Brown doors Steve, psychic allknower Paula Uwich, and all powerful entities everywhere, from the great PINK-GODDESS on down, I welcome you now to the one and only M-O-R-I-A-N-I-T-Y, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Labels: DYING DECLARATION, DYING UTTERANCES, MAJOR BLACK HAT COMPUTER HACKING, NABES FROM HELL, ROTTEN ROACH NABES, VIOLATION OF MY CIVIL RIGHTS NOT TO BE PERSECUTED AND OPPRESSED

SEE YOU ALL IN COURT SOON, PAM, MA'AM!

SARAH KRASSLE OWNS AND RULES THIS PLANET!

HERBERT HUNTINGTON

THANK YOUR MOTHER 'FUCKIGN' SON, FOR PLACING THIS CURSE ON THIS FAMILY, AND ONTO ME IN THIS GENERATION DIRECTLY, AND MY BEST TO MORGAN LOTTERYCAT COLLINS, OF ALL DARK SHADOWS AND DARK TRAIN DREAMS; NOT JUST TO ORLANDO, OR FORT LAUDERDALE; SHEEEEEEEIT; BIP BIP BIP BIP BIP BIP AM-TRAK, HUH DAVID ROTH? YOU SURE HAD A FUCKED UP REACTION IN 1996, TO MY TELLING YOU HOW YOU WERE IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE AND WERE MAKING UP THAT HORN ARRANGEMENT ON THAT ''SARAH'' TUNE THAT I HAD JUST WRITTEN!!!!

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© Mark Wayne Mohr 2006-2015

Blogs Of Mountainpen (BOM)

''Jesus Katy Christ'', to quote my father; and a dam ''Holy moley, nothing makes any sense'', from his son.

I'll see you in a briper or so.

(BRIGGBASE PERIOD)

Mohr, Mark Wayne, 1954-

Morning light / words & music by Mark W. Mohr ; arr. Tom Glenn.

PAu000204016

1980

Oh yes, it was 1910 when I came over here to Trenton, NJ- USA. Now it is 105 fucking cunt years later, and I am being persecuted to death, by the mother fucking cunt lapping MILITUFORCE. They knocked out my COMCAST CABLE TV ON ME AGAIN TODAY, around half past two, for a few minutes. They can do this any time they want to, and there is nothing that I am able to do to stop it, because we have a fake nation with fake guarantees and promises of rights and freedoms for all people to be happy and live without being mother fuckiGN cunt chewing oppressed day and cunt chewing fuckiGN night, yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!

But it was not 1910 or 2015, but late in 1983 around middle December somewhere; when I was up in Orlando, Florida, USA, with good old name calling Howard Solomon. Poor little fuckiGN schmuck me. Allow me to get a bit more into my very first day, visiting with my old boss, and Chief Recording Engineer, from the RPL Sound Studios at 1558 Pierce Avenue, and 1100 state Street, in Camden, New Jersey, USA-ESMWG, back in 1980. Typo error, I said a hit song from the great disco diva was using my dream to tell the story, and mentioned a record album, Remember that the '0' and the '9' keys on the keyboard are right next to each other, and obviously I meant to type in 1989 and not 1980, SAHWEE PEEPS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It had been maybe six hours after stepping off the train and not recognizing this man. When I knew him up at RPL, he wore a Trump-Wig. He never had any little grand daughters try to pull it off his head either, ann King. And girl, I wouldn't try it next time you see him, YO. He'll have his own shit to worry about by then, and he won't need you or me to aggravate him! I went with Howard to the Publix Store in Orlando. He bought some groceries, and I only bought a jar of candy. But while we were waiting in line, and in a very long and very crowded line, as it was just dark and the dinner hour, and people were swamping the fuckiGN place, and I observed a man behind me, after Howard had told me he was going to get a couple more items that he forgot and would be back in a couple minutes, and somehow this dude and I got speaking about the long line and I told him I had not been to Florida since I was a small child, visiting with my Uncle and Aunt and Cousin; down in Fort Lauderdale. I noticed he had an employee tag on his clothes, and he worked for the store, but I had forgotten it was Publix until just a couple months ago, when some powerful new memories came trickling back to me. He told me it might rain that night, and I remember that it never did, at least not while I was still awake through about eleven or so, and it was completely dry early the next morning, without any sign of water, not on Howard's automobile, or on his long driveway in his housing community, that he jokingly refered to, with me anyway, as South-Levittown. He lived in Levittown up in Pennsylvania, before coming down to Florida, early in 1983 somewhere. I remained in touch with him as well as my night boss, Don Cialoni, from RPL, on the phone, and even visited Don on several nights in 1996 while I was going to the Atlantic City casinos to play roulette professionally that year. But somehow the conversation with this Publix worker and myself, went from rain to my visiting in Florida and just stepping off the Amtrak Train six hours earlier, and then I somehow mentioned telephones and how I had kept in touch with my old co-worker and supervisor, not that Howard was really over me directly, but he was sort of over anyone who was there on night shift, as he was the Chief Recording Engineer, and we had several engineers there, who were subordinates to Howard. Somehoiw this talk just flowed to all of these things, and the man told me that a storm might come that night, and somehow I remember telling him about my Privecode machine from the IMM Corporation, now called the InterDigital Corporation of course, but I had no knowledge of that until; just a few years ago. Then he blew my mind and told me how he too had once owned a Privecode machine. I told him that I was able to use it along with several other gismos, to talk to lightning when there were storms, how I taught it codes that matched combinations of random digits to sentences that I had pre-programmed in so that lightning could set off a series of codes with a series of nearby strikes, and then I could hear what lightning said by reading the transposition sentence log. He listened very intently and then he replied that he was not at all amazed. He went onto tell me that he got rid of his machine because it caused some strange things to happen around him. He couldn't get straight answers from the maker of it, and before he got rid of it, he took it to a cousin of his who was an engineer. All his cousin would tell him, this dude told me while we waited in line to check out our stuff, and Howard still had not returned from getting those other forgotten items; is that his cousin never wanted any more to do with him after that, and he said it was reverse engineered from UFO technology. Later on way up in the year of 1998, one of Paul Pedersen's pals who also was an electronics expert, took my machine apart, and told me that he never ever saw anything like it before, and couldn't do anything with it. It had broken from old age, or whatever, and I had allowed him to dissect it. This is what he told me the next time Paul took me to a place that has since burned down, called the Golden Nugget Bar, in West Berlin Junction, New jersey, right outside of Berlin, and not that far from Sicklerville if you were to drive further to the southeast. But back to 1983, and 15 years earlier back into time, while I was in Orlando, Florida. This man told me that I should get rid of it when I return home, and if I had other machines connected electronically into it, in any way; that they too needed to be thrown out. I did not listen, and thought no more about it, but this began a weird set of events. Howard came back and we stopped talking. When we checked out of the Publix about three minutes or so later after the cashier rung up his order, and then my one item, a glass jar of one pound M&M candies, I looked back, and no where to be found, was this employee guy, no shopping cart full of about 20 items or more, no him, no nothing. This had me spooked a bit, and when I got out of the passenger side of Howard's car, I immediately dropped the M&M jar, the glass busted into a zillion mother fuckign pieces, the M&M candies went all over creation, and Howard blew up like a dam bomb, right in my face!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That night when I fell asleep, I was back in the store and it was after midnight there as it was in waking life, and it was dark and closed. But there were a million Privecode machines all speaking and ringing different ring combinations, and all kinds of scary weird sounds were echoing all over the place, and it was a nightmare that was safe to say, a ten on the ten scale, of nightmares. But as with all things, this only begins to open up how 2 more folks were all somehow involved, the dude that ate in Howard's restaurant, as well as the young lady and the older woman, in the office place.

If only a boat, a small little boat, could only take me away.

Away to a land, a beautiful land, forever the years to stay.

Written in 1963, by an eight and a half year old Philadelphia boy, not yet going by the name of Mountainpen. Oh those male nurses, and nasty rumors. What is wrong with this world, oh wonderful great daughter of mine?

SARAH KRASSLE OWNS AND RULES THIS PLANET.

I have the most incredible fucking shit happen to me, and only a god dam ass fucking hand full of people are interested. It proves to many a lot of huge things, such as a totally controlled media and entertainment system, not by government that is out of the closet, but by shadow government that is super stealthy with frightening powerful evil agendas to make total slaves out of all the very poor majority, unless we stand up and fight some day, some how. Here I am telling shit so huge it would alter the fuckiGN universe, and make life better if someone would agree to help. But no, give me a few lousy views when I tell the greatest shit imaginable, while the controlled media who is behind what goes viral online and what stays in the shadows of their total control, shows a nonsensical Youtube posting of a girl doing a weird flip onto her bed, and it ends up with fourteen mega views overnight. Why? Because this entire thing is being totally manipulated and controlled to match their agenda system on dumbing down society until we don't even realize we have become their total fuckiGN slaves. I know that Judge Judy sees shit my way, and you know, I take great solace in that, as well as blissful relaxation, that at least I am not alone,and that the more intellectuals amongst us at least, are seeing exactly what is mother fuckiGN going on all around us, YO!!!! Their controlled literature even makes you add the word to the dictionary of “DUMBING”-DOWN. This is because THEY don't even want this word used, in that dam context, by us few who see exactly what is happening all over this stupid new age of total controlled hell that is agreed to by these morons in their own universe, all over everywhere, all aged, young and old alike, with their dam online phones and all this hocus pocus totally abnormal and unnatural fuckiGN pig shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You'll never ever make me join your Wesley Crusher Next-Gen STAR-TREK 'GAME'. This is perhaps one of the biggest items, and connections of all; to this ultimate FUCKING GAME, you know, the GTNOTG GAME, of December 7, 1996, told to me by none other than the Almighty Krassle-Lord!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

END TRANSMISSION.

SARAH KRASSLE OWNS AND RULES THIS PLANET

CHAPTER 26

So we suffer and we suffer, and we wonder, and I wonder; why then is no one ever EVER in any hurry at all, to go to HEAVEN, and be rid of “THE DEVIL”?

The condition of not being someone with money, has followed me from infancy, late into my present adulthood, or you might say, now all the way into my early days of my being, and I accept it quite graciously; “ELDERLY”! This is why I was not aware of several things, early into my doing MORIANITY on the internet, via my BOM (Blogs Of Mountainpen). One of these things took me all the way up to the year of 2013, I believe in the spring time somewhere of that year, when I purchased a bunch of sixty-nine cent video VHS tapes, at the local Good will store here in town; of old original STAR TREK shows. I never knew that the 1966 episode called, “Where no Man Has gone Before”, since watching this show on a black and white cheapo television set all of my growing up life, and lucky to have a working small model TV at that; showed the so-called area that surrounded our Milky Way Galaxy, fictionally of course, had a giant lovely pinkish colored unknown powerful field. I only saw it as WHITE, against the back-drop of the black outer space, on the show, because all I had was a black & white TV set. I never saw this show again after becoming an adult, and still never on live re-aired television on any channel. BUTTTTTTTTTT, I saw it when I bought the video tape of that particular episode, at Good Will. Most people alive in 2015 will mock and scoff and jeer at me when I tell you that I do not believe Gene Roddenberry was the true creator of this great and fantastic show, and that I could back it up with video and TV spots that I have seen over the past quarter century now, one even being a long documentary on the man's life as well as showing details of his family, and of his son. What I mean by that has nothing to do with fraud or deception, in the same way that I indeed am the author of all of my music that I have laid legal claim to through copyright law, and I believe that all art, musical, dramatic, and WHATEVER, comes from a much higher self, within all of us, and even beyond that, other US'S, doubles all over the vast fifth dimensional hyperspace. All it takes is just one parallel universe out of the virtually limitless numbers of them surrounding all of us in this one, to be a member and participant in what Morianity labels and names (EXPLORATRONIC SUPERMIND SOCIETY), and if that double of us is indeed operating ever through us, even for an hour or a day, then poof, the effects can be far beyond freaking mind boggling. Let's discuss this further regarding how Morianity's claims to operational doppelgangers in all of our lives, given virtually unlimited amounts of these doubles that we all must have, and the mathematics bears me out, and you can all ask the great wonderful NYU Professor that most of us have by now seen at least once on the TV, and he will totally corroborate and confirm that indeed, what I have said to this point is all mathematically right on point.

Sarah Krassle Owns And Rules This Planet,

CHAPTER 26

Without getting Mary Moore, Merry, and their WJM-TV boss, Lou Grant, too excited here; with dreams, fiction, PHASE-4, and other wild stuff; I will just continue along now, as if Pearl Harbor Day of 1996 had never happened to me. OK Mizz P.K. & Mizz Paula Uwich Prisonerlocator!

When Mister Roddenberry wrote and created STAR TREK; numerous events surrounding the needed elements for Star Trek to even make it at all on television, in lieu of a new western to replace the greats of the day such as Bonanza and Gunsmoke; are way too complicated for me to even begin trying to tackle right now, with my readers. Believe me, I could, and we would be days and days until I dropped dead from a combination of being ill on top of the onset of exhaustion. It all fits within a powerful bunch of proofs that I would love to introduce into my blogs, that show that Gene was a little bit more than his usual Gene-SELF, when he made all of these great shows, right down the STAR TREK, TNG of 1987-1993, despite his demise late into that period, (The Next Generation). As I type this message, my asshole neighbors are also being indwelt by their doubles from parallel worlds, to annoy me with major banging sounds all around me. I know this is all real, and the rest of you as you lay dying when your time comes, will wonder if there is more after your body-you lights wink out and all goes dark, and your physical current lifetime ends, boom. With me, I totally and absolutely know it will only be the end of a very bad freaking nightmare dream down, off of my much truer Astral-Plank-Plane existence. So to be honest, I would rather be me than you, any day, as I have a total zero fear of death and dying, and you do not! Let's get back to my blog now, concerning the TRUE CREATOR of that beyond marvelous television show, STAR TREK.

No normal person who lived in 1966 when that particular episode that I am discussing, could have known about galaxy-hearts, or the large black holes in the centers of galaxies, and in fact, not even back later on, ten years or so before the end of the twentieth century. Yet that movie that was of several STAR TREK MOVIES that followed the original late seventies STAR TREK THE MOTION PICTURE, depicts some huge power at the center of the galaxy, and Mister Spock as well as others on his home world of Vulcan, all plotting to force the Star Ship Enterprise, to go there, and sure enough, when they did, they encountered a force that just like a black hole would do, almost imprisoned them there, and almost kept them from ever escaping. Now back a full two decades from that movie, was this episode on original Star Trek, where the crew of the Enterprise, went to the edge of the galaxy, crossed over out of it; and then encountered the PINK GODDESS; or some field with incredible power, far beyond any of them; that nearly ended up destroying them, just as it had done to the Valiant Ship supposedly, two hundred years earlier. Now remember kind folks, I saw this show on a black and white TV-set. And if it would make lovely mizz Speers happy, ''a little one'', even if it wasn't going off inside some dude's head, or ripping off any artistic material from unknown helpless poor artists such as Mountainpen. In any darn event, peeps, I only got to see this thing as white, and never was able to make any connections to anything. If I had indeed had a color TV set however, I would have seen that this field of great power, fictionally of course, but bare with me folks please; was a beautiful brilliant pink energy. Now the same thing going on with Roddenberry's black hole at the center of galaxies, before anyone could possibly have know about this truth, from THIS PARALLEL UNIVERSE anyway, applies with the PINK FIELD OF POWERFUL ENERGY, that went onto indwell humans with high extra sensory perception abilities, and turning them into GODS, if you will, as indeed this was quoted by Gary Mitchell after he morphed into one in the show, following his encounter with Mizz Pink Goddess, Sarah Krassle. I saw you on the step-stoop today, Captain Shatner. You know I tell the truth, and you can all go on forever mocking this Morianity. That is your privilege, but we all know that I am telling a very powerful truth here, or put perhaps slightly differently, Morianity is indwelling me.

People; you may not understand exactly just how all the things that my blogs discuss, totally tie together, like perfectly fitting jigsaw pieces. The less you want to make the effort however, to open your mind up, and see things from your own lives, that you must be scratching your heads over by now; then the less you will see. However, the more you begin to realize that stuff right out of your own lives; your dreams, your reading my words and blogs for whatever reason, whoever you all are, and so much more; from wild unexplainable crap in your own personal lives, to the very mundane every day stuff as well; then the more you will begin to make the leap, without even putting all kinds of darn effort into it. Just as when you enter a very pitch dark room and flick on a lightswith, without any attempts on your part to make it suddenly brighter and safer; things do instantly become observable and visible and clear. Darkness turns into light, and stupidity is replaced with wisdom and awareness. Seeing higher truths aren't always real pretty, but we can learn to deal with that as we become more evolved. Three quarters of the poor and the oppressed in America, are clueless to it, despite thinking they know a few political and or financial facts of life. I truly urge anyone not in the Millionaires-Club or the Billionaires-Club, to join my pal Bernie, who would make a great president for all of us struggling Wall Street despiser's. It is not that we do not like people of money, but we know that their eventual plan and total agenda is to literally make slaves out of all of us, every bit in the same way and the same sense as the African Americans were slaves just three halves of a tiny century ago, here in America. I, as he is, am for a major revolution. A peaceful, non violent total absolute revolution. We need millions of poor people to vote out any and all people who are elected to supposedly be on the side of all of us but are only there to kiss the asses of those with huge power, to throw them out as quickly as any of us would be fired from our rotten measly jobs, if we did not do what we were supposedly and originally hired to do. Goose and Gander. Nothing else in involved here. I make no political statements, and never ever do I encourage violence or physical riot type of revolts. In this new age, it would end up beyond disastrous, and most of us alive now would all die, and you know what, THE TERRORISTS OVERSEAS WOULD CELEBRATE! So why make them happy, or the super wealthy happy? Isn't it time to think about us for a darn change, kind people? Http://berniesanders.com/

I canceled my colonoscopy procedure for next week, earlier this morning. I have my reasons. I plan to do this in 2016 if I am still alive. I do not think that this is going to help me, and I have to many impeding items that make doing this at this time, very ill advised. Some dirt bag Milituforce enemy is unhappy right now. They just crashed my OPEN OFFICE PROGRAM at 10:57 P.M. If this attack does not break off, I fully intend to counter strike in ways that will be felt around the world within 48 hours. I promise whoever is doing this, you and your family will be sorry emmereffers!

This attack with UTILITIES, when it begin, is major; and it goes on, and on, and on, until this evil force decides to break it off and stop it; and then it is calmer, until THEY START IT UP AGAIN, SOMEWHERE DOWN THE LINE. This has gone on now for thirty years, so I really do think this makes me qualified to know what I am talking about here, my kind ladies and gentlemen!

While I was in the process of trying to cancel this medical procedure, I was also further assaulted illegally with more utility attacks, on my telephone, and yes, I reported it all to my AT&T carrier. I pay my bills on time, and in full, and I'll go on demanding better service than I get from all of my utility carriers, even though we all know by now, Mister Billy 1977 Joel, sir; that this is indeed quite a totally futile effort on my part, leading only to my own frustration and waste of time! Where are all the bugs in the rugs, oh great Library of 1981 Congress, and Mohr Demo Tunes; GAP Copyright Office of WASH-DOCK? I am not going to lie, great folks out here reading my blogs. Ever since that ride up to my Behavior Health place several months ago in the summer time somewhere, where lightning followed me home and tried her best to look out for me and protect me; THIS ALL GOT WORSE. I ain't saying it wasn't bad before, merely that this is when stuff indeed got far worse. Now I do want to thank the sheriff, for anything that he may have done, if applicable as who can ever know; for about ten days or so of quieter time; until this rotten junk all got started up against me again, last week.

I had a powerful 'dream' last night. I was at my old recording studio again, as this dream never ever stops, like Harborfields Detention Center dogged me all my life until finally meeting and living with the mighty King Family in 2008.

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I believe secretly for many reasons private to me, and between us; that the late disco diva Donna Summer, knew a little bit about these things, and I refuse to discuss this, unless someone wants to really help in all of this; but she called this, the “Mister Big Shot Syndrome”. You don't need to know any more for right now, not you Professor, and not anyone reading these blogs. If I thought you needed to know, I'd dam tell. But yes, to make my point, in her MBS-SYNDROME idea, things will be hushed up if people have to KILL YOU, as you and me little peeps are always expendable, and some secrets must be there to protect the BIG SHOTS, which can translate to two items right off the bat, any large celebrity, or any super wealthy person, close to or in the Billionaire bracket!!!!

Folks; how many of you have heard of the stairs of disaster? Right away you're maybe thinking, “Christ, he's not going to talk about his daughter as a toddler again in that house, and his dam stupid ass repressed memories”? No I'm not!!!!!!!! OK, OK, OK, OK, John King, and Paula King????

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I wasn't going to go here tonight, but since the enemies crashed my program on top of assaulting me on the phone this morning, I am going to say something a little ahead of my slated schedule for doing so. As stated, I was at the RPL Studio in my powerful vivid dreaming interactions before waking up on Tuesday, and I encountered the printer who over there, looked a bit different than the Mike Walters, who I knew from here in this parallel universe, back in 1980. He totally snubbed me and was making fun of something that I had done on my dinner break, and walking back into do my job from the lobby-area of the place. When I was Orlando, Florida, USA, late in 1983, just shy of the Christmas season; I encountered a strange man in Howard Solomon's road-side restaurant, along a rural road in town. He spoke about weird dreams that he had all of his life, and how anywhere he worked or lived, if it was present time, he would never ever dream about it. However, as soon as any place became a past place, as he moved around a lot and did some type of sales work, or so he told me, but lived all over the country, and he went out of his way to seem to want to tell me about this peculiar fact in his dream-life. During that conversation between us, I somehow, and don't ask how, as I'll never be able to pull that up; did in fact tell him about the dream that I was having all of my life about Westmont, New Jersey, and being back at an old apartment at 125-A Haddon Hills. I told him how every single time this serial weird dreaming happened, I remembered all of the previous ones, and would be telling some person each time, and they were different people, how I always had this dream, and that THIS TIME, I really am back here and living here at this place, only of course, I'd awaken to find the whole thing just another one of the dreams. It became super annoying, and I know the greatest disco artist of Planet Earth, used my story in one of her famous 1980 songs and album titles, as my phone has been illegally tapped and bugged by the big business entertainment industry, ever since the start of my problems in 1980, with McKinnon and that dam stolen BEEGEE song, called, “HELP ME”, after it was pulled off of the HOT 100 BILLBOARD charts, by Attorney Malcolm Rosenberg, or so I assume; as who else would it or could it have been? After this was told to this strange short little elf looking fellow, at Howey's eats place in Orlando, he and I talked a bit further still, until he was served his meal, and then he ate quickly, never spoke another word to me or anyone, and just left a very generous tip that made Howard talk about it all throughout the day, and then he was gone; poof. Somehow, dreaming and the general subject widened, and I know it led to me telling how there are other weird conditions of being awake or conscious or whatever, and not normal half-dreaming, day-dreaming, or whatever. I somehow got talking to him about the man who popped up and vanished into thin air, at Ziggy's Jetty in Atlantic City, New Jersey, back in the early summer time of the year of 1974, how he had told me incredible stuff about Kennedy and Jimmy Hoffa, and stuff that dwarfed all of the scripts of the great Oliver Stone movies, of course I say that now in retrospect as the nineties hadn't happened yet, but I told how he knew more than anyone could know, and seemed desperate to find me and tell me, for the gods only possibly knew what reason. Then I left the beach and returned to my Little room in a rooming house, the lady named Salana Dada. Suddenly an hour after that, POOF, The Law Of 1 entered my head, the entire secrets behind all of Quantum Singularity, to use a stupid word for oneness. But he added a powerful few sentences after I had finished saying that, and before Howey put his plate on the table we were sitting at. He said he was there to see if I and the dude who owned the place were really the same two people from his brand new dreaming adventure. I remember starring at him, I imagine I nearly darn drooled on the table. I would have asked a lot more but once he began to eat, he was going to eat, and that was that, and I knew it. But he did add that I worked with Howey in his dream, and it was not in a sound studio, but out in a berry bog. I forgot that as I never even had seen a berry bog, until two years later after meeting David Roth, and he would drive to the Jersey pine barren areas, and to many various cranberry bogs, all the time in the spring and summer of 1986. It was not until my time here in Florida, that I even remembered that, and then put that together with my own weird series of recurring dreams, where indeed, the two of us were in these large wide open field areas, and water was in them. It all came to pass in three different ways, but that is not all, not by a darn long shot. This all is all part of a greater bunch of junk, that included the man from the Publix Grocery Store in Orlando, as well as th estrange girl in the weird office. This can all wait for later times however, or I'd be all dam night with this bull scrap. To show that even my memory can screw up a bit; I forgot until just a few years ago, that I had bought M&M candies in a large one pound net weight glass jar, in that Publix Store, on my first day with Howey just hours after getting off the dam Amtrak Train. I knew I had the candy and something made of glass as this fell out of my hands causing Howard to totally freak out. But I did not remember the exact sequence of all of this, until I began to reflect. Then suddenly, POOF, a lot of stuff got real clear for me. Just like the great star-children from my Mantua home in early 1980, and then two years later at the Medical Institute for cancer research, in Camden, both times while in light sleeps. Then came 2010 in Florida, and the mystery child up at Harvest. But all of this is like HEAVEN, and all pink goddesses everywhere; it can wait! SHEEEEEEEEEIT!

Many people since I left Cooley-Hall, seemed to want me to join ''something''. I don't know exactly what it was, and is, but I know I was not imagining any of it. The more I resisted and the more time that passed, the less this happened. However, the less it happened, the less I appeared to be physically attached to this world and its natural laws in many cases and situations. This is a very difficult thing to explain, but it is so necessary for readers to see some part of what this all is, and just what is going on, before it is too late, not just for me, but I really do honestly think, for this entire planet. I have somehow become one an dthe same with a character on an old black and white, no matter what TV set you watch it on, Brittney; old “TWILIGHT ZONE” show. It was about astronauts who went into space and who died while on their mission. They came back, and one by one, one of them noticed all the others being somehow just mysteriously being literally outlandishly phased out of existence, as if they never were there. THIS HAS HAPPENED TO ME, folks, and you can laugh, and laugh, and laugh, all you dog gone want to. Think about it, analyze it. What possible reason do I have for making up a bizarre story like that, and insisting it is real, and all the while, it is just a big lie?

UP-UP-UP-UP, I TOLD YOU GINA!!!!