''Remember
my first blog of the new blogs, folks?''
HH88-HH88-HH88-HH88,
HERBERT HUNTINGTON?
Well,
tell you New Mexico visiting son Arthur, “TANKS FER NOTTIN' YO”,
for me, oh great UNK!
Friday, December 23, 2011
Surviving the latest hack attack
I
came up here to blog a week ago to post SJ-0286 chapter, and for
reasons unknown to me, my ability to blog any further, was
thwarted via a combination of technological and WOMO-Enemies,
doing whatever they did to stop the blog; as they did before, both
in the years 2010, and 2009.
This is an in-between opening blog, and the following blog will be SJ-#CH. 0286. Leave it to good old "86", as ever since 1986, my entire life has been obliterated.
This is an in-between opening blog, and the following blog will be SJ-#CH. 0286. Leave it to good old "86", as ever since 1986, my entire life has been obliterated.
Posted
by mark
wayne mohr at 11:08
AM No
comments:
Labels:
Alien
Abuductions, Astral
Plane, Bermuda
Triangle, Millionth-Council,
Paranormal
and Supernatural, UFO
Sightings, Wall
Street
Subscribe
to: Posts
(Atom)
Yes
sir/ma'am, the year of the OX on the Chinese calendars is one thing.
But how about the year of the AX, for us wonderful Huntington's.
Jesus Christ in the high heavens of Province Plank Olympia, YO BRAH!
Like W-O-W, Mister MACY-34!
mark wayne mohr
Contact me
On Blogger since
December 2011
Profile views - 764
My blogs
About me
|
Gender
|
Male
|
|---|---|
|
Industry
|
|
|
Occupation
|
|
|
Location
|
|
|
Introduction
|
being one of
perhaps ten humans since time began who have memory going back
far beyond current physical birth, I am doing my best to deal
with an extremely unpleasant situation.
|
|
Interests
|
|
|
Favorite Movies
|
|
|
Favorite Music
|
|
|
Favorite Books
|
When you open your eyes underwater, do you ever worry that you'll
drown?
Well, I did drown in 1995, in South Atlantic City. Remember, I am
the one in 1984 from Highland Avenue.
Now
my ex-guru, Mizz Meagan, as some may recall, eventually came over to
help me get that original blog started here, and that has been the
one up here ever since. BUTTTTTTTTT, this is the link back to where
things were, in the Darius Time Range of all great
eleven/eleven/eleven events. I remember this time perfectly well.
I
will most likely be dead within a mother fuckiGN week.
After that, the cunt chewing fucking MILITUFORCE will never be
able to hurt me again, as I will be dead and gone, dust, lights
fuckiGN out, YO, POOF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I pity other people who
lived good lives. They fear what I so desperately mother fuckiGN
am looking forward to; TOTAL MOTHER 'FUCKIGN'
OBLIVION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mark Mohr was just a very bad dream,
and this dream will be over, turned to maggots, and pussy huffing
fuckiGN dust forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I
am a very sick mother fucker. I have been cleverly murdered by
what these blogs have labeled, the MILI-2-FORCE, for a solid dam
decade now. For the past two days I have intense abdominal pain,
and I cannot eat anything at all today, for the first time. I do
not think I have colon cancer or a bleeding stomach ulcer. I
believe that my mother fucking appendix is fucked up. Way back at
age nine, at 2041 Chestnut Street, Apartment 24-A, in Center City
Philadelphia, a male nurse by the name of John McDowell, son of a
neighbor from a floor above us who was sort of my mom's friend;
thought that I had appendix fucking trouble, way back as a child.
Off and on my entire life, I have discomfort on my right side near
the bladder area. If I die in here tonight or over the weekend,
this is an official dying utterance and dying declaration, that
states that I was murdered, by horrible vicious SATANIC ENEMIES,
and this has been from a lifetime of torture and abuse and hell,
from total mother fucking vicious terrorist monsters!!!!!!!!!!!
|
|||||||||||||
So
I am a sick pathetic elderly person being persecuted, and the
county and law enforcement could care in the least if I live or
fuckiGN cunt die. How fucking fair is this; Ann King, and Cousin
dam Donald; YO?????????????????
I
cannot speak for flower power.
I
cannot speak for flower power.
I
cannot speak for flower power.
I
cannot speak for flower power.
I
cannot speak for flower power.
I
cannot speak for flower power.
I
cannot speak for flower power.
I
cannot speak for flower power.
I
cannot speak for flower power.
I
cannot speak for flower power.
I
cannot speak for flower power.
But
this flower may do a pretty cool job!!!!!!!!!!!!
The
latest motley crew would be the people I lived with from middle
late summer time of 2008 until the early middle part of December
in 2009, when I managed to escape them with just the fucking
clothes on my back, and thus, ended up in Florida, where ever
since that, I have been trapped in and totally imprisoned. Even
more recent taking me to very present time circa called the here
and the now, was the wild employee bunch while I worked up at the
Harvest Outreach place, on 25th Street and Orange
Avenue, about a mile west of my building here, their web-site is
as follows:
However
folks, I won't sit in here crying out loud fucking crocodile tears
over any of this bullshit. It has all been said and cried over
before, for crissake!!!
©
BOM 2006-2015 MARK WAYNE MOHR
BLOGS
OF MOUNTAINPEN
KEEP
YOUR BIG MOUTH SHUT NOW, DONNA!!!
She
used to say, and I quote; “If you don't like cats and dogs and
kids, there's got to be something wrong with you somewhere”. I
am speaking of the world's great and now sadly late, disco diva,
Mizz Donna Gaines Summer!
Take
a dump in your mouth, with an asstomouthose. I think I invented this
in some distant parallel universe, for a novelty shop, if one of my
wild weird dreams from my teens is being accurately remembered and
recalled now by me, the ol' Mountainpen!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And the Google
peeps are correct, as this would apply in many southernmost areas, as
well as other areas.
Legal College Football Betting Online 2015/2016
The
popularity of legal online college football betting grows stronger
every year. According to CNBC, anywhere from $60 - $70 billion is
illegally wagered on college football each year in the US alone.
And the Nevada Gaming Commission says that more than $1 billion is
handled on football
wagering in that state every year. Global ownership of
smartphones has surged to more than 1 billion, more than 350
million PCs with Internet connectivity are sold annually, and
there are more than 2.5 billion web surfers around the world.
Factor in the incredible popularity of the NCAA college football
product which delivers some of the greatest amateur athletic
performances on the planet each year, and you have the perfect
marriage of worldwide, always available Internet access and the
rabid desire for a legally accessible web-based gambling platform.
Make no mistake about it, betting on the outcome of college
football games is a much bigger industry than is the USA college
football business itself. Legal
NFL betting figures are also staggering.
When
you consider the size of the financial numbers involved, as we
mentioned above, it is pretty much a foregone conclusion that more
US states and other jurisdictions around the world will move
forward in the near future to legally offer and endorse online
gambling on college football contests, since it is obviously an
activity desired by many, with huge financial benefits available.
However, just as there have been huge changes at the global level
concerning the legality of online gambling the last few years,
change is probably in store over this controversial topic in the
future as well. As veteran online gamblers ourselves, we developed
this site to keep you informed about all aspects of legal
online betting, so check back frequently for updates. If you
are interested in finding out some helpful betting information for
this upcoming college football season, then check out our updated
2015
college football preview.
One
thing that is certain is that the popularity of, and need for
access to, legal online NCAAF betting is probably only going to
increase as the population of the United States and the world
continues to grow. Millions of responsible adults enjoy spicing up
their viewing experience by placing a wager on their favorite
University, especially when their team is playing a hated rival.
The Michigan - Notre Dame rivalry can be traced back to 1887, just
one example of the rabid fan bases which are built and continue to
grow through several generations of diehard college football fans.
And with mobile Internet access now more prevalent than fixed web
access, legal college football betting is an activity which can
take place anywhere and at any time, as long as a reliable
Internet connection can be established.
With
multiple estimates that more than $2 billion worldwide is wagered
on just the NCAA
football championship game each year, it is obvious there is a
global need for college football wagering not just in the United
States, but around the world as well. The worldwide reach of the
Internet is the perfect delivery system for legalized gambling on
college football and other sporting events. The problem for years
is and has been that football lovers in the US and other countries
sometimes suffer under the mistaken belief that placing a wager on
their favorite college football team is an illegal endeavor.
However, sports betting online in some countries has even become
as acceptable as to have its place on popular social networks, and
more countries are legalizing
online sports
betting all the time. And as you are about to see, there are
those websites which legally support US residents and travelers
betting on college football games.
Current Status of Online College Football Betting Legality in the US
Yes,
online college football betting is legally available to US
citizens, though many of them do not even know it. The UIGEA
legislation governing unlawful Internet gambling only attacked how
online gambling transactions were processed, and these laws were
directed at operators to ensure that bettors' interests were
protected. And while there are a few gambling
friendly states like New Jersey, Nevada
and Delaware which have already passed Internet gambling
legislation in some form, the vast majority of states in the US
have not chimed in on their thoughts about the legality of their
residents placing a wager on the outcome of a football contest
online.
However,
since the beginning of time, when the opportunity presents itself
in a particular marketplace, there are always intelligent business
owners more than willing to step in and fill the void. In this
case companies which are legally licensed to offer online
gambling, and which have been certified and are located outside of
the United States, can offer their product and services to
Americans via the Internet. This makes it acceptable for American
citizens, and global college football lovers, to enjoy some
betting on college football games from the comfort and privacy of
their smartphone, tablet, laptop or desktop PC. Learn more about
these sports betting sites in our detailed online
sportsbook reviews.
Bovada Sportsbook - Top Rated US Football Betting Site
Bovada
Sportsbook - $250 Bonus
Bovada
Sportsbook is the most reputable USA friendly site for betting on
College football games. They are part of the Bodog Group, one of
the most trusted names in online sports betting. They opened up
Bovada to cater exclusively to US players and offer the best
football lines and odds around.
Aside
from offering players more NCAAF betting options than most sites,
Bovada is known for having some of the best parlay payouts in the
industry paying 10% more on average than most sportsbooks. New
players can take advantage of a 50% welcome bonus up to $250 on
their first deposit.
It's
also worth nothing that players can enjoy many other betting
options under the same player account such as online casino games,
poker and much more. And if you appreciate highly sophisticated
mobile betting software, Bovada has that covered too.
Goddess
bless America, Mizz Kate Flyers Smith, YO!
Goddess
bless America, Mizz Kate Flyers Smith, YO!
Goddess
bless America, Mizz Kate Flyers Smith, YO!
Goddess
bless America, Mizz Kate Flyers Smith, YO!
Goddess
bless America, Mizz Kate Flyers Smith, YO!
Goddess
bless America, Mizz Kate Flyers Smith, YO!
Goddess
bless America, Mizz Kate Flyers Smith, YO!
Goddess
bless America, Mizz Kate Flyers Smith, YO!
Goddess
bless America, Mizz Kate Flyers Smith, YO!
People
who have limited lifespans and limited intellect, judging a person
who remembers thousands of years, is about as unfair as bully teasing
some poor zit faced over weight teen every day in high fucking
school. Those who need to get this message, get it. Let's leave
things right there on this issue, shall we?
OK,
OK, OK, OK John King, and Paula King????
OK,
OK, OK, OK John King, and Paula King????
OK,
OK, OK, OK John King, and Paula King????
OK,
OK, OK, OK John King, and Paula King????
OK,
OK, OK, OK John King, and Paula King????
OK,
OK, OK, OK John King, and Paula King????
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 'wasHINGTON' was,
without Microsoft
Corporation smart programs,
or crooks up on a hill who sold 99 percent of us down the river
decades and decades ago????????????????? Well in any case, you
might wish to purchase the great book that my old pal wrote
called, Secrets Of The Museum, by Roy Carl Weiler Senior. It is
available on Amazon, and all over the net and the real world book
stores in real world shopping malls, everywhere. Oh yes sir, you
told me some really cool fucking tales, Roy. Like
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
Please
stop imprisoning me in lighthouses and water company properties,
oh great and powerful Mizz Martinez; to quote your coworker back
around the turn of the century somewhere; while he was heading
across the street to get his feast on with 'Mister Bagman', at the
great cool delicious Checkers place. Here comes Mister Morty
dirtbag Mortino now, again on my right side passing me, annoying
me, at 11:23 on this god dam Friday morning, November the
thirteenth, 2015, YO
Bagman.
On
Blogger since January 2006
Profile
views – 3046
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR 2006-2015
MY BLOGS:
NOW
IF WE TAKE THE MIDDLE BLOG LINK ABOVE, AND GO THERE, WE SEE WHERE THE
FUCK UP HAPPENED TO STOP THAT BLOG, AND BEGIN THIS NEW BLOG, AT LATE
2011 SOMEWHERE!
Content Warning
The blog that you are about to view may contain content only
suitable for adults. In general, Google does not review nor do we
endorse the content of this or any blog. For more information about
our content policies, please visit the Blogger Terms
of Service.
Friday, December 9, 2011
KING NEBNOOSHOO SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0285
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER
0286
DATFILE: 120911.629
WORLD LABS SEND BACK TEXT VIA STM
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
COPYRIGHT © BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
This was a very bad BOTBAR fucking day for me. I had to pull a make up 90 minutes up at the Harvest where I am employed through the AARP. Back a few days ago, I was up at their regional office in Port Saint Lucie, Florida for my bi-annual employee evaluation, and mild spanking. I admit that I do not do all the things required of me, it is pretty hard to be me and deal with a truck load of WOMO enemies, and then do my job at http://www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ and then on top of that, do job searches, and many other things such as attend Workforce solutions classes, and the list goes on and on. Let me tell you about my mother fucking horrendous day, and then I will totally blow your minds with other shit, peeps, I will guarantee all of you that, along with Mister Tahren Gandhi and George Foreman.
I had saved from food that I wanted to purchase, and forgot to do so after clocking out on Wednesday afternoon, and yesterday was my Sheriff day to report major stuff and I did get tot he bottom of quite a lot, but need to keep my big fat fucking mouth shut about all of this for the time being; so I hid what I wanted to buy in a spot I thought for sure would keep it safe, and none of the items were perishables. I got there today and learned it all went back on the shelves and was lost. I had some really good fucking shit that I wanted, and I lost it. New bosses there at the place, are making lots of shit total hell. On top of that, some powerful Hydroglacia force, popped up behind me while I was in an isolated spot for a second, and literally ripped my watchband apart, leaving it to fall onto the hard floor, and bust. I am a tiny bit faster than other peeps, and have been ever since my encounter with the great 'Colaman' at Haddonwood, in 1995, at the indoor swimming pool. This is why I actually was able to see a strange entity that in-between an eighth of a second or so, appeared next to me, performed this wicked dastardly mother fucking deed, and vanished away, just like out of the wildest shit on television you'd ever see folks. Three acts of property damage from the past week now expand to a total of fucking FOUR of them. Fucking with my television and causing no picture from several days back, the second thing that happened when I told you on a prior blog that two utility attacks struck me together during that horrific day of unfathomable fucking death siege; shorting out my home stereo equalizer system, breaking a switch on my home stereo mixer board, and now #4= MY WATCHBAND, and causing me a broken fucking watch. There is one person alive who knows how evil Robert McGuire is, and is a distant complex cousin, based on series of in-law and blood lineage systems over several generations. This person however is not quite the way she was some time back when reality was her number one concern, even over a billion dollars. I do know this much, maybe not much else, but I do know this much. Now, well; everything changes if given enough time. Misery as they say loves company, but I merely wanted to get to the bottom of why this family is doing so much horrible stuff to me, and I feel that my great daughter knows, but is unwilling to say. Well, leading horses to water troughs and buckets and interactions is one thing, maybe the symbolization in that oh-8 dreaming-interaction, was I was willing to learn the truth and accept the truths that I would come to learn over coming years, and did so by pouring the water bucket all over myself, and then later on, whatever secret details were revealed to me by my wonderful special child all grown up, perhaps is not all remembered, and a lot is gapped out upon returning to this waking world “dream” again, that following morning. If I had a cousin that could pull of the trick that he did on Tennessee Avenue in October of 2006, I know I'd want to know a lot more, all else be damned. On top of that, add up the shared problem of the trails and how they damaged us, and on and on, and I cannot see how anything, even fifty billion dollars, would not pale in comparison. Money will all turn to dogshit, but not knowing what and how we fit into these things, this may very well last forever for us, Brown-Eyes, but you know what's best, after-all, and I am not being cute or smart here, “U-RULE THE EMPIRE”, and said so from high places, PUBLICALLY, on the same day precisely 12 years after I wrote my song called, “SARAH”. So tell me this, where is my, as Donna would put it so well, after she too, caused me her share of anguish and grief; “messed up mind” seeing any or all of these things wrong. Also, what is here with this that I don't know anything about. Maybe I do not know, as you proclaim on VQI, anything about you after all infinity, great lovely Jehovah Goddess, but this poor old CARPENTER would really LOVE to know, what I'm missing here, and just what it is that I've got so wrong? I did not imagine 30 Plaza Place and that nobody can get a photograph of this place without extremely outlandish and bizarre things happening to them, or the great Pittsburgh Hotel on 10-SC Avenue as well, so it would freaking appear, or maybe, NOT APPEAR, or maybe better still, not be remembered, erased, from mind and cameras as well, via powerful ASTRAL PLANE TOOLS known as the PAWM-PIE.
The scriptures that you influenced to be written down and saved by 'magic' through thousands of years, SSJK; talk about the quick and the dead. If a person or any living entity, cannot maintain the necessary speed on a cellular level, to keep up with the needed ratio of the speed of time and its reflection; it no longer is interacting in that realm and time dimension. It is 'dead'. I'm not implying that our mind works at the speed of light, but I am saying that time runs along in a direction that is relative to the polarity of the electron and proton that makes up its individual universe system, and is the mirrored image of all things reflected back at all points from any given point in space-time. Thus, if we took a television st to a planet, providing one could be found and reached; that was 41 light years away from our Earth, and the signal broadcast was strong enough when it was originally sent out and aired, we could all watch the television that would be playing live on the air back in the original days if tuning say to the American Broadcasting company Network, we could watch all over again, the Leviathan plot unfolding with Paul Stoddard, Barnabas Collins, Jebez Hawks, and Nickolas Blair, on the show, “Dark Shadows”, and watch Poor old Paul Stoddard be given his second PAYMENT DUE DATE, the first one was my 15th birthday on 12/4/69, and then the next one was on 1/15/70. Back then, the Monday Holiday system had not fully kicked in, so this was always “King Day”, as now despite this date being his real birthday, the holiday is celebrated on the nearest Monday in January. Still, the freaking odds of the two PAYMENT DUE DATES, MY BIRTHDAY AND MARTIN KING DAY, YO, I know I do not buy into the coincidence, you all can do whatever you like, but shall we now return to the topic at hand folks. First, in completing the previous point, my day of birth brought me in my present human form into this so-called life here, and then it was all destined to lead up to meeting Christopher Bennett, son of Dick wolf's team's Correction Officer, Sir Warlock Worley, and his dad, you guessed it was indeed a CO; and then from there, he put me onto blogging my nightmare story on the internet, and this led me to the Hammonton Library, where I was all pre-panned to meet computer guru ed Lynch, the downstairs neighbor of the KINGS, Dawn-Marie and Ann, and Dawnie's hubbie, Sir Chicky, from the great Mayan Guatemala. Now I am blogging this in a time, just days away from a powerful MAYAN CALENDAY year, the great 2012. Still laughing, SIR LEE, abnd MAHM MICHELE and fam??????????????????????????????? The topic of LIGHT and TIME, is simple. This is why this other hypothetical planet, relax mom; that in this example cited in my illustration here on this blog; that is 41 light years away in distance, also means that if you turn on the TV and receive EARTH, you would be watching the TV of 41 years ago, hi there Carolyn, are my blogs your daddy's second most prized possession, as you are certainly his first, and not hypothetically, MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT, gimme' a freaking bwake, ELMER FWUUUUUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now taking this a little further still, we do operate on a level of awareness and consciousness that indeed is in a ratio, no SORIAN HACKER, not RATION, I caught that hack Lattisaw and erased off the “N”, AHA-AHA-AHA, YO; aniwho, this ratio is the speed that divides 186,282 SMPS by, (Statute Miles Per Second), and can be thought of as the speed that your brain and neurological system, processes your senses, using the same constant of the second. Basically, just a little quicker than one sixth of one second, is the processing speed of a human being's awareness. These periods of time can be more easily grasped by thinking of them as INSTANTS, one instant carrying over into the next instant. Using this second-constant rating system, a formula indeed can be rationally figured and deduced quite accurately and scientifically, that permits us to know the ratio of our life to the speed of time. As we age, although it is virtually infinitesimal, we slow down a little bit, and time runs away from us a little faster. In the final second of our consciousness, be it before we fall off into a living sleep, or into the non-living state of death that is based on life in a time dimension; this final 6th second turns into an infinitely increasing expansion of millionths and quadrillionths of a second and so forth forever; and just as a nuclear half life never has a total ZR breakdown (Zero-Rad), where no radio activity at all is present; an enlightened soul starts to realize that these mathematical formulas indeed show that we never really live in a time reality to start with, but are dreaming a space-time-mind dimension, and falling into this dream, only to eventually, slow down again, and wake up out of it. Time runs away too fast, we slow down, and to the time world and its inhabitants, we grow still, and cold, and DEAD. However, it is time that was never really there, and was an illusion and parlor trick from the second we gained enough speed off of the Astral Plane, to fall asleep into this STM dimensionality. Oh yes sir folks, somebody had to know these details in order to write words such as “The quick, and the dead”. These same WHATEVERS had to know that Earth was a sphere in an orbit in an expanded area out beyond it in six opposite end directions that all curve involutedly back again as is the nature of moving hyper-spheres with all of their unlimited subatomic-existing parallel universes. This is all written in scrolls thousands of years ago, and has been most recently best translated into the KJV HOLY BIBLE, so who in not only 1546 but 1-3 K years before Christ was here, could have known all these things? Well, the same WHATEVERS who broke my watch today, AND HAS CAUSED ME HELL AND CURSES AND UNIMAGINABLE GRIEF AND TEARS for 57+ years of my human life now, as MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN.
Do I personally believe in coincidence at all, ever? NO I DO NOT. All stuff that happens is part of the same fabric that has made up my wild and beyond off the wall weird life. You have the same things that I do too folks, the difference is that another Paula King in your life, of a sort; has mesmerized abnd hypnotized you into totally not observing or seeing any of it. You have been successfully programmed my peeps, not to see, not to know, but to live in blind darkness, and who knows, divine bliss as well, after-all, it is me and not you, that Alice Gallagher of Chicago, and other victims also, suffer from this unspeakable HUNTINGTON CURSE. This is the funniest laugh of all, that my kid was born up there by the bay, did all the stuff she did over the past half decade, and now is living in total denial. Still, this is why there will be 2 MC's in her life in two weeks, and none here at 601 Avenue B in FTPEFLUSAESMWG. As she says, “SHE RULES”. Well, I do not argue with that, even stupidity on my level has its limitations, thank the freaking gods, YO.
Much much much much more will be said later on as we enter the Christmas Hellidays. I will say a lot of things about property damager McGuire, the non photographic areas of Atlantic City, and mighty GOOGLE, as one of them is more than enough for me to deal with, am I correct here Doctor Diva Margret, Apollo-Lucifer (On Earth), and twin sister DIANA. Diana Moon, Diana Son, and Dick Wolf. Add in a few more characters, and wow, what a motley crew and collection of 16's we have, yar maitees. Hay, this is the Treasure Coast of Florida, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I BEG PARDON, daddy, so let me include you here, after all, it is your booty down there, so FUCK THIS SHIT, you 12 ANGRY ME OF THE JURY, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!
End transmission:
DATFILE: 120911.629
WORLD LABS SEND BACK TEXT VIA STM
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
COPYRIGHT © BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
This was a very bad BOTBAR fucking day for me. I had to pull a make up 90 minutes up at the Harvest where I am employed through the AARP. Back a few days ago, I was up at their regional office in Port Saint Lucie, Florida for my bi-annual employee evaluation, and mild spanking. I admit that I do not do all the things required of me, it is pretty hard to be me and deal with a truck load of WOMO enemies, and then do my job at http://www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ and then on top of that, do job searches, and many other things such as attend Workforce solutions classes, and the list goes on and on. Let me tell you about my mother fucking horrendous day, and then I will totally blow your minds with other shit, peeps, I will guarantee all of you that, along with Mister Tahren Gandhi and George Foreman.
I had saved from food that I wanted to purchase, and forgot to do so after clocking out on Wednesday afternoon, and yesterday was my Sheriff day to report major stuff and I did get tot he bottom of quite a lot, but need to keep my big fat fucking mouth shut about all of this for the time being; so I hid what I wanted to buy in a spot I thought for sure would keep it safe, and none of the items were perishables. I got there today and learned it all went back on the shelves and was lost. I had some really good fucking shit that I wanted, and I lost it. New bosses there at the place, are making lots of shit total hell. On top of that, some powerful Hydroglacia force, popped up behind me while I was in an isolated spot for a second, and literally ripped my watchband apart, leaving it to fall onto the hard floor, and bust. I am a tiny bit faster than other peeps, and have been ever since my encounter with the great 'Colaman' at Haddonwood, in 1995, at the indoor swimming pool. This is why I actually was able to see a strange entity that in-between an eighth of a second or so, appeared next to me, performed this wicked dastardly mother fucking deed, and vanished away, just like out of the wildest shit on television you'd ever see folks. Three acts of property damage from the past week now expand to a total of fucking FOUR of them. Fucking with my television and causing no picture from several days back, the second thing that happened when I told you on a prior blog that two utility attacks struck me together during that horrific day of unfathomable fucking death siege; shorting out my home stereo equalizer system, breaking a switch on my home stereo mixer board, and now #4= MY WATCHBAND, and causing me a broken fucking watch. There is one person alive who knows how evil Robert McGuire is, and is a distant complex cousin, based on series of in-law and blood lineage systems over several generations. This person however is not quite the way she was some time back when reality was her number one concern, even over a billion dollars. I do know this much, maybe not much else, but I do know this much. Now, well; everything changes if given enough time. Misery as they say loves company, but I merely wanted to get to the bottom of why this family is doing so much horrible stuff to me, and I feel that my great daughter knows, but is unwilling to say. Well, leading horses to water troughs and buckets and interactions is one thing, maybe the symbolization in that oh-8 dreaming-interaction, was I was willing to learn the truth and accept the truths that I would come to learn over coming years, and did so by pouring the water bucket all over myself, and then later on, whatever secret details were revealed to me by my wonderful special child all grown up, perhaps is not all remembered, and a lot is gapped out upon returning to this waking world “dream” again, that following morning. If I had a cousin that could pull of the trick that he did on Tennessee Avenue in October of 2006, I know I'd want to know a lot more, all else be damned. On top of that, add up the shared problem of the trails and how they damaged us, and on and on, and I cannot see how anything, even fifty billion dollars, would not pale in comparison. Money will all turn to dogshit, but not knowing what and how we fit into these things, this may very well last forever for us, Brown-Eyes, but you know what's best, after-all, and I am not being cute or smart here, “U-RULE THE EMPIRE”, and said so from high places, PUBLICALLY, on the same day precisely 12 years after I wrote my song called, “SARAH”. So tell me this, where is my, as Donna would put it so well, after she too, caused me her share of anguish and grief; “messed up mind” seeing any or all of these things wrong. Also, what is here with this that I don't know anything about. Maybe I do not know, as you proclaim on VQI, anything about you after all infinity, great lovely Jehovah Goddess, but this poor old CARPENTER would really LOVE to know, what I'm missing here, and just what it is that I've got so wrong? I did not imagine 30 Plaza Place and that nobody can get a photograph of this place without extremely outlandish and bizarre things happening to them, or the great Pittsburgh Hotel on 10-SC Avenue as well, so it would freaking appear, or maybe, NOT APPEAR, or maybe better still, not be remembered, erased, from mind and cameras as well, via powerful ASTRAL PLANE TOOLS known as the PAWM-PIE.
The scriptures that you influenced to be written down and saved by 'magic' through thousands of years, SSJK; talk about the quick and the dead. If a person or any living entity, cannot maintain the necessary speed on a cellular level, to keep up with the needed ratio of the speed of time and its reflection; it no longer is interacting in that realm and time dimension. It is 'dead'. I'm not implying that our mind works at the speed of light, but I am saying that time runs along in a direction that is relative to the polarity of the electron and proton that makes up its individual universe system, and is the mirrored image of all things reflected back at all points from any given point in space-time. Thus, if we took a television st to a planet, providing one could be found and reached; that was 41 light years away from our Earth, and the signal broadcast was strong enough when it was originally sent out and aired, we could all watch the television that would be playing live on the air back in the original days if tuning say to the American Broadcasting company Network, we could watch all over again, the Leviathan plot unfolding with Paul Stoddard, Barnabas Collins, Jebez Hawks, and Nickolas Blair, on the show, “Dark Shadows”, and watch Poor old Paul Stoddard be given his second PAYMENT DUE DATE, the first one was my 15th birthday on 12/4/69, and then the next one was on 1/15/70. Back then, the Monday Holiday system had not fully kicked in, so this was always “King Day”, as now despite this date being his real birthday, the holiday is celebrated on the nearest Monday in January. Still, the freaking odds of the two PAYMENT DUE DATES, MY BIRTHDAY AND MARTIN KING DAY, YO, I know I do not buy into the coincidence, you all can do whatever you like, but shall we now return to the topic at hand folks. First, in completing the previous point, my day of birth brought me in my present human form into this so-called life here, and then it was all destined to lead up to meeting Christopher Bennett, son of Dick wolf's team's Correction Officer, Sir Warlock Worley, and his dad, you guessed it was indeed a CO; and then from there, he put me onto blogging my nightmare story on the internet, and this led me to the Hammonton Library, where I was all pre-panned to meet computer guru ed Lynch, the downstairs neighbor of the KINGS, Dawn-Marie and Ann, and Dawnie's hubbie, Sir Chicky, from the great Mayan Guatemala. Now I am blogging this in a time, just days away from a powerful MAYAN CALENDAY year, the great 2012. Still laughing, SIR LEE, abnd MAHM MICHELE and fam??????????????????????????????? The topic of LIGHT and TIME, is simple. This is why this other hypothetical planet, relax mom; that in this example cited in my illustration here on this blog; that is 41 light years away in distance, also means that if you turn on the TV and receive EARTH, you would be watching the TV of 41 years ago, hi there Carolyn, are my blogs your daddy's second most prized possession, as you are certainly his first, and not hypothetically, MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT, gimme' a freaking bwake, ELMER FWUUUUUD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now taking this a little further still, we do operate on a level of awareness and consciousness that indeed is in a ratio, no SORIAN HACKER, not RATION, I caught that hack Lattisaw and erased off the “N”, AHA-AHA-AHA, YO; aniwho, this ratio is the speed that divides 186,282 SMPS by, (Statute Miles Per Second), and can be thought of as the speed that your brain and neurological system, processes your senses, using the same constant of the second. Basically, just a little quicker than one sixth of one second, is the processing speed of a human being's awareness. These periods of time can be more easily grasped by thinking of them as INSTANTS, one instant carrying over into the next instant. Using this second-constant rating system, a formula indeed can be rationally figured and deduced quite accurately and scientifically, that permits us to know the ratio of our life to the speed of time. As we age, although it is virtually infinitesimal, we slow down a little bit, and time runs away from us a little faster. In the final second of our consciousness, be it before we fall off into a living sleep, or into the non-living state of death that is based on life in a time dimension; this final 6th second turns into an infinitely increasing expansion of millionths and quadrillionths of a second and so forth forever; and just as a nuclear half life never has a total ZR breakdown (Zero-Rad), where no radio activity at all is present; an enlightened soul starts to realize that these mathematical formulas indeed show that we never really live in a time reality to start with, but are dreaming a space-time-mind dimension, and falling into this dream, only to eventually, slow down again, and wake up out of it. Time runs away too fast, we slow down, and to the time world and its inhabitants, we grow still, and cold, and DEAD. However, it is time that was never really there, and was an illusion and parlor trick from the second we gained enough speed off of the Astral Plane, to fall asleep into this STM dimensionality. Oh yes sir folks, somebody had to know these details in order to write words such as “The quick, and the dead”. These same WHATEVERS had to know that Earth was a sphere in an orbit in an expanded area out beyond it in six opposite end directions that all curve involutedly back again as is the nature of moving hyper-spheres with all of their unlimited subatomic-existing parallel universes. This is all written in scrolls thousands of years ago, and has been most recently best translated into the KJV HOLY BIBLE, so who in not only 1546 but 1-3 K years before Christ was here, could have known all these things? Well, the same WHATEVERS who broke my watch today, AND HAS CAUSED ME HELL AND CURSES AND UNIMAGINABLE GRIEF AND TEARS for 57+ years of my human life now, as MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN.
Do I personally believe in coincidence at all, ever? NO I DO NOT. All stuff that happens is part of the same fabric that has made up my wild and beyond off the wall weird life. You have the same things that I do too folks, the difference is that another Paula King in your life, of a sort; has mesmerized abnd hypnotized you into totally not observing or seeing any of it. You have been successfully programmed my peeps, not to see, not to know, but to live in blind darkness, and who knows, divine bliss as well, after-all, it is me and not you, that Alice Gallagher of Chicago, and other victims also, suffer from this unspeakable HUNTINGTON CURSE. This is the funniest laugh of all, that my kid was born up there by the bay, did all the stuff she did over the past half decade, and now is living in total denial. Still, this is why there will be 2 MC's in her life in two weeks, and none here at 601 Avenue B in FTPEFLUSAESMWG. As she says, “SHE RULES”. Well, I do not argue with that, even stupidity on my level has its limitations, thank the freaking gods, YO.
Much much much much more will be said later on as we enter the Christmas Hellidays. I will say a lot of things about property damager McGuire, the non photographic areas of Atlantic City, and mighty GOOGLE, as one of them is more than enough for me to deal with, am I correct here Doctor Diva Margret, Apollo-Lucifer (On Earth), and twin sister DIANA. Diana Moon, Diana Son, and Dick Wolf. Add in a few more characters, and wow, what a motley crew and collection of 16's we have, yar maitees. Hay, this is the Treasure Coast of Florida, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I BEG PARDON, daddy, so let me include you here, after all, it is your booty down there, so FUCK THIS SHIT, you 12 ANGRY ME OF THE JURY, SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIT!!!!!!!!
End transmission:
Thursday, December 8, 2011
KING NEBNOOSHOO SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0284
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0284
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2297
DATFILE: 120811.565
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO/
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM, SOSO-WEIN-SSDD”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN----(C) 2006-2011
ALL STATEMENTS MADE HEREIN ARE SELF SWORN
VOLUINTRARY OATHS, INDER FULL WEIGHT AND
PENALTIES FOR CHARGES OF PURJERY, SLANDER, AND LIBEL.
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
For 57 mother fucking years, the WOMO scum trash bottom feeders times ten tot he power of a quadrillion, have done nothing other than sit around 24/7/365.2422, year in and year old, trying to figure out ways of making my life a continuous and constant living fucking nightmare hell disaster cubed, and they have been amazingly and unfathomably successful at their career.
Late last night around eleven or just after this, PM-EST, the attack began slowly, and is monstrously building, as I speak and type. It was both my trash-ass nabes that were active last night after several days of relative peace and quiet. Then today at just past Jane Bitch Clock-Sleaze-Disease, and shy of q quarter passt one, about twenty minutes ago, a fire alarm knocked me suddenly right out of my shoes, and exactly when I was telling Diana that I will never understand or really know the great SARAH-STACEY-JEHOVAH-KRASSLE. As I then went onto tell he over the telephone, the details of even how the great SSJK told me on Viqueens Island or 'VI', that indeed, I do not know anything about HER, and only think that I do, BOOM, the fire alarm attack went blaring off at me, breaking my trance. This was a definite attack, as it was off within five minutes, and there were no firemen or firetrucks here on the premises to disarm it, so it had to be generated by the HA or somebody who is all part of the conspiracy of driving me mad and never “GIVING ME A MOMENTS' OEACE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, AGENT CONDOR AND AGENT FALCON, OF WPIX CHANNEL ELEVEN (11), NEW YORK CITY TELEVISION STATION, QUOTED DIRECTLY FROM THEIR 1988 DOCUMENTARY CALLED, UFO-THE COVER-UP”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The big news, is that I have huge proof that I am taking over to the sheriff of my county, that someone is making my life hell, so the fur is about to fucking fly. It is electronic evidence and proof that my rights under the UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION are being not only viciously violated and my civil rights trampled upon, but shows the who-what-when-why details of many things, so soon, very soon my fucking friends, lots of heads will roll, and this EVIL EMPIRE will be sorry. I have proof that I am under illegal surveillance, as well as electronic attacks that destroy all of my property, injure my physical health, and even block any radio stations from being received, and here I am up here on the 6th fl;oor, high above all the other peeps around me who tell me that they can receive and enjoy the Vero Beach Christmas Station, while my right to enjoy this music and festive season is being eviscerated.
No great Sarah-Stacey, I do not indeed, because you have played your endless silly teenaged games with me, so if you are looking for an argument from THAT-BOY, about what you said to me on VI, forget it SWEET-TEA, as we are in total agreement. I know about as much about you and what you are up to with me, as I know the insides of the arteries of Pope Benny-16!!!!
END TRANNY, SWEET LOVELY BUTT-WIPING GRANNY, WHAAAAAAAAAA!
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMagnesoniCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC:
IF YOU DO NOT SCAN, ATTACK, AND DESTROY MY HORRENDOUS ENEMIES, THIS PLANET WILL BLOW UP INTO TINY PEBBLES!
WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2297
DATFILE: 120811.565
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO/
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM, SOSO-WEIN-SSDD”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN----(C) 2006-2011
ALL STATEMENTS MADE HEREIN ARE SELF SWORN
VOLUINTRARY OATHS, INDER FULL WEIGHT AND
PENALTIES FOR CHARGES OF PURJERY, SLANDER, AND LIBEL.
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
For 57 mother fucking years, the WOMO scum trash bottom feeders times ten tot he power of a quadrillion, have done nothing other than sit around 24/7/365.2422, year in and year old, trying to figure out ways of making my life a continuous and constant living fucking nightmare hell disaster cubed, and they have been amazingly and unfathomably successful at their career.
Late last night around eleven or just after this, PM-EST, the attack began slowly, and is monstrously building, as I speak and type. It was both my trash-ass nabes that were active last night after several days of relative peace and quiet. Then today at just past Jane Bitch Clock-Sleaze-Disease, and shy of q quarter passt one, about twenty minutes ago, a fire alarm knocked me suddenly right out of my shoes, and exactly when I was telling Diana that I will never understand or really know the great SARAH-STACEY-JEHOVAH-KRASSLE. As I then went onto tell he over the telephone, the details of even how the great SSJK told me on Viqueens Island or 'VI', that indeed, I do not know anything about HER, and only think that I do, BOOM, the fire alarm attack went blaring off at me, breaking my trance. This was a definite attack, as it was off within five minutes, and there were no firemen or firetrucks here on the premises to disarm it, so it had to be generated by the HA or somebody who is all part of the conspiracy of driving me mad and never “GIVING ME A MOMENTS' OEACE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, AGENT CONDOR AND AGENT FALCON, OF WPIX CHANNEL ELEVEN (11), NEW YORK CITY TELEVISION STATION, QUOTED DIRECTLY FROM THEIR 1988 DOCUMENTARY CALLED, UFO-THE COVER-UP”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The big news, is that I have huge proof that I am taking over to the sheriff of my county, that someone is making my life hell, so the fur is about to fucking fly. It is electronic evidence and proof that my rights under the UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION are being not only viciously violated and my civil rights trampled upon, but shows the who-what-when-why details of many things, so soon, very soon my fucking friends, lots of heads will roll, and this EVIL EMPIRE will be sorry. I have proof that I am under illegal surveillance, as well as electronic attacks that destroy all of my property, injure my physical health, and even block any radio stations from being received, and here I am up here on the 6th fl;oor, high above all the other peeps around me who tell me that they can receive and enjoy the Vero Beach Christmas Station, while my right to enjoy this music and festive season is being eviscerated.
No great Sarah-Stacey, I do not indeed, because you have played your endless silly teenaged games with me, so if you are looking for an argument from THAT-BOY, about what you said to me on VI, forget it SWEET-TEA, as we are in total agreement. I know about as much about you and what you are up to with me, as I know the insides of the arteries of Pope Benny-16!!!!
END TRANNY, SWEET LOVELY BUTT-WIPING GRANNY, WHAAAAAAAAAA!
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMagnesoniCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC:
IF YOU DO NOT SCAN, ATTACK, AND DESTROY MY HORRENDOUS ENEMIES, THIS PLANET WILL BLOW UP INTO TINY PEBBLES!
Monday, December 5, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0283
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER
0283
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“A SIMPLER THAN EINSTEIN FORMULA, EW=ALOE”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN © 2006-2011
WORLD LABORATORIES DATE AND TIME FILE:
CH-0283-120511.657.1111111111111111111111111111
HELLO THERE, JANE BITCH SLEAZE STARWALKER OF NON 1896
(THESE WORDS ARE LEGALLY SWORN TO TRUTHS,
UNDER SELF PROCLAIMED PENALTIES FOR LIBLE AND OR PERJURY)
“MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY” ACCORDING
TO MIGHTY GOD GOOGLE
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
So far today, I have had two major UTILITY ASSAULTS, covertly and illegally fucking perpetrated against me, WHERE ARE YOU FCC ROBERT MCDOWELL, OLD HADDONFIELD SCHOOL CHUM. Mister Mackey said you would grow up and be a man, so would you please step up to the plate now and help me, TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! On top of this, planes all day have been buzzing around, their evil cheated DOW JONES STOCK MARKET just as I predicted and TOLD YOU GINA, flew way up for another MONDAY AND WEEK OF BULLISH SOARING, my hallway screamer scum bag neighbors are nut case monsters, it is getting worse and worse, somebody is putting all these diseased monsters up to all of this, and I KNOW IT IS DONALD JOHN BASSLER SCUMBALL TRUMP JUNIOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is no way it is my dirt ball son in law, as he stopped taking over my computer a couple months ago at the same time that he went into MCD (DOGHOUSE) for his infidelity. I do not believe he is in any position to fuck with me while in the doghouse right now. That leaves President Hopeful the clown buffoon. Only somebody with enormous mother fucking wealth and power can be pulling all of this off. Also, right before the closing fucking bell on Wall Street, I took another loud horrific FIRE ALARM ATTACK at the building here. I never ever would have fucking moved into this hell if I had known all of this mother fucking shit about this nightmare horror show. When things get this bad, other things eventually follow, they cannot fail, it is a powerful mother fucking parallel event. PUSSY COMMAND will be starting up soon, huge ultra monster fucking time, unless this backs off a little bit, I'LL FUCKING PROMISE YOU ALL THAT!!!!!! Also, major fucking klutz out shit is starting and will only grow fucking exponentially worse as this progresses without fucking let up or mercy. Before I started this blog, the shouting in the hallway went on for half an hour or so with these nut case butt wipes next door. It is only a matter of fucking time before monster stereo man kicks in from next door. If it were not for an empty stairwell on the opposite side, I would be totally, fully, absolutely, and completely FUCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Right after that, I went to move on my bed and forgot that I had a glass of cunt eating grape juice on the floor, and I kicked the stupid fucking thing over and spilled it all over my orange throw rug, and had to quickly get hot soapy water and a rag, and whatever muscle I could muster up; and scrub like a fucking trapped animal, in a Roddenberry menagerie from the middle sixties.
Work was hard and hell today. I worked like a fucking jack hammer highway worker in an Arizona July desert void of water or shade. The meeting that gets me off my feet for a short time that breaks up the day, was for whatever reason, just suddenly canceled, and I worked my mother fucking ass hole fucking off, from the minute I arrived, until I clocked the fucking shit out of there. As I said, it is now a matter of time, before some luscious fucking pussy just throws herself at me, and this time brother, I'll fucking take advantage of the situation, unlike the thousands of times in the past when I pull a fucking Nancy Reagan on the slut. Once this happens, it will be the total demise of this EVIL EMPIRE, and the other 99 will get their chance, finally; to live in the land of relative freedom, freedom from the oppression of the powerful , I will abbreviate this to (FFOP). Pronounce it EFFOP if you like, I'll be using the word.
The first utility attack was the telephone when they illegally cut into my line and cut me off from the system when my bills are paid and up to date. They do this intentionally when I am in a trance with the lightning goddess DIANA, as it has a tendency to cause major fucking shit. Four summers ago on June 21st in oh-Marola-eight, they did this, and I ended up all over the place, or it could have been the next huge interaction that resulted after this, I am not sure right now, but remember the date of August 22, just a week shy of the official Stockholm Syndrome kidnapping of me by members of the greatest family in the world, be it distant and poor branches of it or not. To pull off a great con scam job, you do not do the obvious. If MC herself had done all of this directly for example, who wouldn't believe it then? It always goes back to the great Levi March on the LAW & Order episode with the GRIFFIN.
Well, since they (THE WOMO GARBAGE) won't back this off one tiny fucking iota, we will now talk a bit more about the great and mighty and
quite illustrious HADDONWOOD SWIM AND HEALTH CLUB, that went the way of Gerard Stiles and Dark Shadows, and Collinwood, right down to the times and years. All fans of the hit 60's television soap show of Gothic morbidity, know perfectly clearly and well, Mister Nixon, Mrs. Nixon, and everybody freaking else; that this is beyond outlandish and just too weird to be true as far as all of it being some gigantic mother fucking coincidence, YO folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gimme a dam break. What you do not have a clue about unless you are Steve Hawking, is that we all are a larger 'personality' in and from, a lighter, and virtually gravitation-less higher plane or realm. Now you must begin by knowing a powerful fucking secret peeps, and that is that LIGHT is the reflection of TIME. My daughter told me this before she was born, in a powerful vision, and reminded me of this all over again about 3.5 years ago, during my last months of residing in my Mullica Township, New Jersey trailer at Jenny Plageman's trailer park of HELLHORRORS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now this larger self dreams down into a hyperspace, or a trillion to the power of trillions, of parallel universes, where pieces of our total selves, all exist and live in separate lives. The science of Quantum Mechanics and or Physics, attempts to unravel lots of shit pertaining to this, and in some ways succeeds quite well, and in others, it simply fails miserably and totally. Still this science is young and new, and beginning to learn the strange forces in the world of the Quantum, as well as the way certain smaller things operate in an entirely set of laws than we can begin as of yet to start understanding and or appreciating. Here I am preaching all of this shit to the blog worlds of cyberspace, and it is me that needs to hear and have these concepts reflected back at me. Human life tends to make us forget what we totally remember. When certain doors are opened and walked through, life cannot ever go back again. You may think you are walking back out of the room, when all that really is happening is that you are walking into an illusion. You cannot walk both ways through subatomic doors. I am being figurative peeps in my words here, but it does give a bang up illustration, so I will say these things. If any one reading this, could see for five seconds, and hold their attention that long, on what I totally know, and thus would be existing in a truer fifth dimensional reality; it is doubtful, you could ever shed off the two dimensions you experienced for those tiny little five seconds, and thus, you would become like I am, trapped in hyperspace, and with awareness to this truth. This makes me and all of you as different as train and an elephant. This is just truth, nothing more, and with no hidden implications or meanings within these symbols either.
The owners of this world, the wealthiest families, know completely, that I have stumbled onto gargantuan dangerous fucking shit over the past thirty-five years or so, and that it is growing quantitatively, and beyond and independent of my control. They also know, unless they are swallowing stupidity pills, like kids eating Ecstasy tablets at some wild NYC party club; that this is why quantum fitting has placed a lot of stuff together in the way that it has, and obviously has plans far beyond my limited horizons to even begin to venture a guess with any real hope of honest accuracy.
If something begins vibrating, the faster it goes, the more atomic friction or rubbing occurs, and the first observable bi-product of this is HEAT. As this intensifies, the next one is LIGHT. Beyond this comes all kinds of assortments of cosmic rays. As things go faster, they get hotter, brighter, and normally in post-atomic-size worlds, grow smaller. Other forces exist however that cause the opposite of this as far as size is concerned, and because of an unknown secret of up-line and down-line connective-ness below the mind realm or the 6th dimension. Many of today's scientists still wonder about open and closed cosmos based on the 2.7 degree kelvin average temperature, total matter per cubic centimeter, and many other factors all connected with this that need not be addressed right now. The hypersphere is a simple concept. Take a board and make it longer and longer, and eventually, it bends down on its two ends under its own weight. No straight line can endlessly not eventually bend down and come around full circle, literally. Both space as well as motion intertwine in special and amazing ways. Looking at the cosmos from outside and beyond, it would look like a sphere, a big basketball of a sort. But the ball is moving. This causes many things to all become real. Many formulas show that an open end system will make time start all over again. This is a very simplified way of putting some math formulas into converted English language nomenclature. Put another way, those who think of a big-bang-beginning of time, never see that this is the exact sameness as the end of time from the past cycle. So if time is so many years total, then how many cycles are there? Well, this is what you will not easily grasp. There is no beginning or ending of this loop because it is compressed into a dimension where outside of it is the higher dimension that thought its way into the game it created and is playing, really, us, and what we are playing, and distracting, from the pure hell of existing. Since there are an infinite amount of non-existers, and a finite space-time-mind dimension in six dimensions, there simply is no more room for any more non-existors, so those who exist, just exist, and this concept was somehow figured out and known by the Roddenberry team after Gene passed or woke up really, and I'm speaking of the movie “Deep Space Nine”, from which many offshoot television shows spawned out of. But how does this super compressed and abridged little lesson from 2100 or really, then; '88-2', on Jewelly White's Mayan Calendar or (JWMC), relate to Haddonwood Swim Club and 1996, when it forever closed down, overnight? Many rumors have circulated around about all of this, and I have told a few things on numerous previous blogs. Well, the Quantum World is what human science perceives when observing and experimenting, but in fact, it is all there because of the upline-downline system that is part of a gigantic THOUGHT in the 6th dimension. In 2007, I talked about a strange place containing 12 elevators, 3 of them on four sides of a room, all together in the center part along each of the walls. Each elevator has controls inside of them, called TRINITRAIL CONTROL. Every 60 degrees along a circle is a point of a trinitrail line. Move the intersection of a normal “X” closer together and simply add in another perfectly aligned line through it, the asterisk, ******. Now count the ends of the asterisk made here. Then look at your keyboard. It prints out only five, not six, yet the key shows the full six pointed system intersecting, the triple-X, and just why this discrepancy exists, I cannot in good conscience tell you. I will speculate however, that it is there just so I can further show the power and awesome mystery behind this triple-X. This is the same parlor trick that the quantum worlds used to get the word “MI” to be on the start of the song called, “Real Good Girl” from 1986, that I wrote and copyrighted on the 15th day of August. Who put the floppy disk virus into the fort Pierce Public Library System, so that many times, the word 'ButButButButBut' would keep coming out without even typing anything, it is all up on older blogs from 2010, at www.blogger.com/. I had not yet seen the movie MC was staring in at that time in the spring of 2010, called, “Precious”, but if you get it, and it was done in late 2009; the scene where the fight in the special-ed-school erupts, suddenly has the word “BUT” come out real loud, and out of place. Then my dad had a favorite expression that he used a lot in 1975 while we were living in Lindenwold, New Jersey at the same apartment complex where today in a new name, was right next to the complex where I dated Helen Zebriski in 1999, and had the experience of a lifetime that night we stayed overnight at the Sands Casino, with Sarah Callio's in law parents, the Martino's, at the Blue Parrot Club. This expression that my dad used, was, “Fuck this shit”. If you get a movie called, “12 Angry Men”, and carefully listen to the soundtrack on it, right after the man with the accent wants to change his verdict from guilty to not guilty, and he says 'BEG PARDON', listen and you will distinctly hear the man who complains a lot throughout the show, say, and in the days where a black and white Henry Fonda movie would strictly prohibit this language, “FUCK THIS SHIT”. None of these things just happened, and are all things that the sixth dimension is behind and controlling, for reasons none other than a gigantic game called Ultimate Distraction. What is being distracted from is the fact that existers must exist. It is that simple, just as Red John would put it so well, from Campbell's Soup to Colorado. Now in like manner, this entire deal with SSJK, is a game of distraction. I had no idea who Mister Krassle was in the Haddonwood days. It was in the following years that came right after this era, that I came to learn all about it. I can only safely blog this much today. I made friends with a dude who resembled JJ Evans father's father, on the television sitcom show called, “Good Times” from the seventies, and we would hang out and talk from time to time, at the deep south end of the indoor swimming pool. He told me that I would not be able to stay on the bottom of the pool if I did a special trick with my mind. When I did it, he was right, and I could not stay submerged. Then he told me that I would have a powerful dream that night that it was several years ago and I was on a raft with a friend of mine, and that I should try the same trick when we are trapped by a powerful bay current in the Tuckerton Bay. I tried remembering the event that I knew happened, and until the dream came and went, it remained a blur. However, I went onto tell him the next time we ran into each other, that I experienced an evental time warp, and he laughed and said it is all a trick. Then he asked me what I remembered about experiencing a boat ride that kept repeating itself. Instantly, I remembered a powerful thing from 1986, when David Roth and myself were on Long Beach Island, and indeed, the boat sank, and I died, and then I woke up and it started all over again, over and over. He said that in many other realms of the mind, it is still going on, even though in any one realm, it happens but once. Then he chuckled and talked about compressed boxium and told me how someday when things all weigh next to nothing, hurling ourselves to the stars will be as easy as pie. I just gave him a ling vacant stare. More will be told later. Right now, this incredible dude is behind all that has happened to me for the past 16 years, as it was after he did one huge thing, that my sudden desire to find a seemingly magical teenaged girl from my past, was kindled into a flame throwing rocket, and totally out of control and irresistible, altering my life as I knew it, forever. In 2008, he came back to me again, at a cigar store on the White Horse Pike, in the blueberry capitol of the world, Hammonton, New Jersey, USAESMWG.
********BLOG ENDS********
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“A SIMPLER THAN EINSTEIN FORMULA, EW=ALOE”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN © 2006-2011
WORLD LABORATORIES DATE AND TIME FILE:
CH-0283-120511.657.1111111111111111111111111111
HELLO THERE, JANE BITCH SLEAZE STARWALKER OF NON 1896
(THESE WORDS ARE LEGALLY SWORN TO TRUTHS,
UNDER SELF PROCLAIMED PENALTIES FOR LIBLE AND OR PERJURY)
“MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY” ACCORDING
TO MIGHTY GOD GOOGLE
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
So far today, I have had two major UTILITY ASSAULTS, covertly and illegally fucking perpetrated against me, WHERE ARE YOU FCC ROBERT MCDOWELL, OLD HADDONFIELD SCHOOL CHUM. Mister Mackey said you would grow up and be a man, so would you please step up to the plate now and help me, TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! On top of this, planes all day have been buzzing around, their evil cheated DOW JONES STOCK MARKET just as I predicted and TOLD YOU GINA, flew way up for another MONDAY AND WEEK OF BULLISH SOARING, my hallway screamer scum bag neighbors are nut case monsters, it is getting worse and worse, somebody is putting all these diseased monsters up to all of this, and I KNOW IT IS DONALD JOHN BASSLER SCUMBALL TRUMP JUNIOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is no way it is my dirt ball son in law, as he stopped taking over my computer a couple months ago at the same time that he went into MCD (DOGHOUSE) for his infidelity. I do not believe he is in any position to fuck with me while in the doghouse right now. That leaves President Hopeful the clown buffoon. Only somebody with enormous mother fucking wealth and power can be pulling all of this off. Also, right before the closing fucking bell on Wall Street, I took another loud horrific FIRE ALARM ATTACK at the building here. I never ever would have fucking moved into this hell if I had known all of this mother fucking shit about this nightmare horror show. When things get this bad, other things eventually follow, they cannot fail, it is a powerful mother fucking parallel event. PUSSY COMMAND will be starting up soon, huge ultra monster fucking time, unless this backs off a little bit, I'LL FUCKING PROMISE YOU ALL THAT!!!!!! Also, major fucking klutz out shit is starting and will only grow fucking exponentially worse as this progresses without fucking let up or mercy. Before I started this blog, the shouting in the hallway went on for half an hour or so with these nut case butt wipes next door. It is only a matter of fucking time before monster stereo man kicks in from next door. If it were not for an empty stairwell on the opposite side, I would be totally, fully, absolutely, and completely FUCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Right after that, I went to move on my bed and forgot that I had a glass of cunt eating grape juice on the floor, and I kicked the stupid fucking thing over and spilled it all over my orange throw rug, and had to quickly get hot soapy water and a rag, and whatever muscle I could muster up; and scrub like a fucking trapped animal, in a Roddenberry menagerie from the middle sixties.
Work was hard and hell today. I worked like a fucking jack hammer highway worker in an Arizona July desert void of water or shade. The meeting that gets me off my feet for a short time that breaks up the day, was for whatever reason, just suddenly canceled, and I worked my mother fucking ass hole fucking off, from the minute I arrived, until I clocked the fucking shit out of there. As I said, it is now a matter of time, before some luscious fucking pussy just throws herself at me, and this time brother, I'll fucking take advantage of the situation, unlike the thousands of times in the past when I pull a fucking Nancy Reagan on the slut. Once this happens, it will be the total demise of this EVIL EMPIRE, and the other 99 will get their chance, finally; to live in the land of relative freedom, freedom from the oppression of the powerful , I will abbreviate this to (FFOP). Pronounce it EFFOP if you like, I'll be using the word.
The first utility attack was the telephone when they illegally cut into my line and cut me off from the system when my bills are paid and up to date. They do this intentionally when I am in a trance with the lightning goddess DIANA, as it has a tendency to cause major fucking shit. Four summers ago on June 21st in oh-Marola-eight, they did this, and I ended up all over the place, or it could have been the next huge interaction that resulted after this, I am not sure right now, but remember the date of August 22, just a week shy of the official Stockholm Syndrome kidnapping of me by members of the greatest family in the world, be it distant and poor branches of it or not. To pull off a great con scam job, you do not do the obvious. If MC herself had done all of this directly for example, who wouldn't believe it then? It always goes back to the great Levi March on the LAW & Order episode with the GRIFFIN.
Well, since they (THE WOMO GARBAGE) won't back this off one tiny fucking iota, we will now talk a bit more about the great and mighty and
quite illustrious HADDONWOOD SWIM AND HEALTH CLUB, that went the way of Gerard Stiles and Dark Shadows, and Collinwood, right down to the times and years. All fans of the hit 60's television soap show of Gothic morbidity, know perfectly clearly and well, Mister Nixon, Mrs. Nixon, and everybody freaking else; that this is beyond outlandish and just too weird to be true as far as all of it being some gigantic mother fucking coincidence, YO folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gimme a dam break. What you do not have a clue about unless you are Steve Hawking, is that we all are a larger 'personality' in and from, a lighter, and virtually gravitation-less higher plane or realm. Now you must begin by knowing a powerful fucking secret peeps, and that is that LIGHT is the reflection of TIME. My daughter told me this before she was born, in a powerful vision, and reminded me of this all over again about 3.5 years ago, during my last months of residing in my Mullica Township, New Jersey trailer at Jenny Plageman's trailer park of HELLHORRORS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now this larger self dreams down into a hyperspace, or a trillion to the power of trillions, of parallel universes, where pieces of our total selves, all exist and live in separate lives. The science of Quantum Mechanics and or Physics, attempts to unravel lots of shit pertaining to this, and in some ways succeeds quite well, and in others, it simply fails miserably and totally. Still this science is young and new, and beginning to learn the strange forces in the world of the Quantum, as well as the way certain smaller things operate in an entirely set of laws than we can begin as of yet to start understanding and or appreciating. Here I am preaching all of this shit to the blog worlds of cyberspace, and it is me that needs to hear and have these concepts reflected back at me. Human life tends to make us forget what we totally remember. When certain doors are opened and walked through, life cannot ever go back again. You may think you are walking back out of the room, when all that really is happening is that you are walking into an illusion. You cannot walk both ways through subatomic doors. I am being figurative peeps in my words here, but it does give a bang up illustration, so I will say these things. If any one reading this, could see for five seconds, and hold their attention that long, on what I totally know, and thus would be existing in a truer fifth dimensional reality; it is doubtful, you could ever shed off the two dimensions you experienced for those tiny little five seconds, and thus, you would become like I am, trapped in hyperspace, and with awareness to this truth. This makes me and all of you as different as train and an elephant. This is just truth, nothing more, and with no hidden implications or meanings within these symbols either.
The owners of this world, the wealthiest families, know completely, that I have stumbled onto gargantuan dangerous fucking shit over the past thirty-five years or so, and that it is growing quantitatively, and beyond and independent of my control. They also know, unless they are swallowing stupidity pills, like kids eating Ecstasy tablets at some wild NYC party club; that this is why quantum fitting has placed a lot of stuff together in the way that it has, and obviously has plans far beyond my limited horizons to even begin to venture a guess with any real hope of honest accuracy.
If something begins vibrating, the faster it goes, the more atomic friction or rubbing occurs, and the first observable bi-product of this is HEAT. As this intensifies, the next one is LIGHT. Beyond this comes all kinds of assortments of cosmic rays. As things go faster, they get hotter, brighter, and normally in post-atomic-size worlds, grow smaller. Other forces exist however that cause the opposite of this as far as size is concerned, and because of an unknown secret of up-line and down-line connective-ness below the mind realm or the 6th dimension. Many of today's scientists still wonder about open and closed cosmos based on the 2.7 degree kelvin average temperature, total matter per cubic centimeter, and many other factors all connected with this that need not be addressed right now. The hypersphere is a simple concept. Take a board and make it longer and longer, and eventually, it bends down on its two ends under its own weight. No straight line can endlessly not eventually bend down and come around full circle, literally. Both space as well as motion intertwine in special and amazing ways. Looking at the cosmos from outside and beyond, it would look like a sphere, a big basketball of a sort. But the ball is moving. This causes many things to all become real. Many formulas show that an open end system will make time start all over again. This is a very simplified way of putting some math formulas into converted English language nomenclature. Put another way, those who think of a big-bang-beginning of time, never see that this is the exact sameness as the end of time from the past cycle. So if time is so many years total, then how many cycles are there? Well, this is what you will not easily grasp. There is no beginning or ending of this loop because it is compressed into a dimension where outside of it is the higher dimension that thought its way into the game it created and is playing, really, us, and what we are playing, and distracting, from the pure hell of existing. Since there are an infinite amount of non-existers, and a finite space-time-mind dimension in six dimensions, there simply is no more room for any more non-existors, so those who exist, just exist, and this concept was somehow figured out and known by the Roddenberry team after Gene passed or woke up really, and I'm speaking of the movie “Deep Space Nine”, from which many offshoot television shows spawned out of. But how does this super compressed and abridged little lesson from 2100 or really, then; '88-2', on Jewelly White's Mayan Calendar or (JWMC), relate to Haddonwood Swim Club and 1996, when it forever closed down, overnight? Many rumors have circulated around about all of this, and I have told a few things on numerous previous blogs. Well, the Quantum World is what human science perceives when observing and experimenting, but in fact, it is all there because of the upline-downline system that is part of a gigantic THOUGHT in the 6th dimension. In 2007, I talked about a strange place containing 12 elevators, 3 of them on four sides of a room, all together in the center part along each of the walls. Each elevator has controls inside of them, called TRINITRAIL CONTROL. Every 60 degrees along a circle is a point of a trinitrail line. Move the intersection of a normal “X” closer together and simply add in another perfectly aligned line through it, the asterisk, ******. Now count the ends of the asterisk made here. Then look at your keyboard. It prints out only five, not six, yet the key shows the full six pointed system intersecting, the triple-X, and just why this discrepancy exists, I cannot in good conscience tell you. I will speculate however, that it is there just so I can further show the power and awesome mystery behind this triple-X. This is the same parlor trick that the quantum worlds used to get the word “MI” to be on the start of the song called, “Real Good Girl” from 1986, that I wrote and copyrighted on the 15th day of August. Who put the floppy disk virus into the fort Pierce Public Library System, so that many times, the word 'ButButButButBut' would keep coming out without even typing anything, it is all up on older blogs from 2010, at www.blogger.com/. I had not yet seen the movie MC was staring in at that time in the spring of 2010, called, “Precious”, but if you get it, and it was done in late 2009; the scene where the fight in the special-ed-school erupts, suddenly has the word “BUT” come out real loud, and out of place. Then my dad had a favorite expression that he used a lot in 1975 while we were living in Lindenwold, New Jersey at the same apartment complex where today in a new name, was right next to the complex where I dated Helen Zebriski in 1999, and had the experience of a lifetime that night we stayed overnight at the Sands Casino, with Sarah Callio's in law parents, the Martino's, at the Blue Parrot Club. This expression that my dad used, was, “Fuck this shit”. If you get a movie called, “12 Angry Men”, and carefully listen to the soundtrack on it, right after the man with the accent wants to change his verdict from guilty to not guilty, and he says 'BEG PARDON', listen and you will distinctly hear the man who complains a lot throughout the show, say, and in the days where a black and white Henry Fonda movie would strictly prohibit this language, “FUCK THIS SHIT”. None of these things just happened, and are all things that the sixth dimension is behind and controlling, for reasons none other than a gigantic game called Ultimate Distraction. What is being distracted from is the fact that existers must exist. It is that simple, just as Red John would put it so well, from Campbell's Soup to Colorado. Now in like manner, this entire deal with SSJK, is a game of distraction. I had no idea who Mister Krassle was in the Haddonwood days. It was in the following years that came right after this era, that I came to learn all about it. I can only safely blog this much today. I made friends with a dude who resembled JJ Evans father's father, on the television sitcom show called, “Good Times” from the seventies, and we would hang out and talk from time to time, at the deep south end of the indoor swimming pool. He told me that I would not be able to stay on the bottom of the pool if I did a special trick with my mind. When I did it, he was right, and I could not stay submerged. Then he told me that I would have a powerful dream that night that it was several years ago and I was on a raft with a friend of mine, and that I should try the same trick when we are trapped by a powerful bay current in the Tuckerton Bay. I tried remembering the event that I knew happened, and until the dream came and went, it remained a blur. However, I went onto tell him the next time we ran into each other, that I experienced an evental time warp, and he laughed and said it is all a trick. Then he asked me what I remembered about experiencing a boat ride that kept repeating itself. Instantly, I remembered a powerful thing from 1986, when David Roth and myself were on Long Beach Island, and indeed, the boat sank, and I died, and then I woke up and it started all over again, over and over. He said that in many other realms of the mind, it is still going on, even though in any one realm, it happens but once. Then he chuckled and talked about compressed boxium and told me how someday when things all weigh next to nothing, hurling ourselves to the stars will be as easy as pie. I just gave him a ling vacant stare. More will be told later. Right now, this incredible dude is behind all that has happened to me for the past 16 years, as it was after he did one huge thing, that my sudden desire to find a seemingly magical teenaged girl from my past, was kindled into a flame throwing rocket, and totally out of control and irresistible, altering my life as I knew it, forever. In 2008, he came back to me again, at a cigar store on the White Horse Pike, in the blueberry capitol of the world, Hammonton, New Jersey, USAESMWG.
********BLOG ENDS********
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0282
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER
0282
DATFILE: 120511.656 WORLD LABS OF 2295
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
Loud small planes are around, I have seen it worse. I knew last night around 2 or 3 in the morning, they were not done with me, as this fucking attack is about as fucking cock sucking relentless as I've seen in 25 fucking ass years now. I was talking to Diana over the phone, and they illegally cut in and cut me off. This leaves me with a dead circuit line, until eventually, they allow the line to come back again. If they did not, I would simply not pay my AT&T bill, as even this twisted fucking disease cannot have things both ways all the time, no matter how much they think that they mother fucking can, YO.
I talk about solid helium on other blogs, and skytorcycles that I have ridden over Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG, or will ride as JOJO, but I do not tell the details of why the great Colaman came to HADDONWOOD CLUB in the middle nineties.
When things come out in detail, right down to who really owns the networks, and I break down how none of these things are imagined or coincidental, JUASON SCUMMER; then and only then will I be either dead, or on my way into court for an all out battle with WOMO. It is you or me bastards, and prisoners have stopped being taken, if they ever were, a long time ago, by bothy sides of this horrendous battle, that even the BIBLER describes, only no one yet, Dr. Camping included, has really even come close to figuring it out. Only Mini-Great Jewelly knows, and this mighty Type-3-EXPLORATRON is more than some pathetic somnambulist, believe me folks. This story does not start in 1969 or 1954, it begins with the stars, the real ones that glitter at night, huh Sarah-Stacey Krassle, my endless TQ love? When I tie it all up this week if this does not stop, this world will be on its way into as hell that will lead to the end of mankind as he now knows it too be, and the ushering in of a new calendar and a new year one, the JEWELLY calendar. As I type this, the fire alarm just went off here. It is every mother fucking day, this is beyond unspeakable, and before it all is over, I may well be in jail, and some of you cunt lappers may be dead in the fucking ground, so tell them all how yo0ur lovely daughter told me that last day, that you are not my buddy, AKS.
END TRANNY, OLD GRANNY.
DATFILE: 120511.656 WORLD LABS OF 2295
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
Loud small planes are around, I have seen it worse. I knew last night around 2 or 3 in the morning, they were not done with me, as this fucking attack is about as fucking cock sucking relentless as I've seen in 25 fucking ass years now. I was talking to Diana over the phone, and they illegally cut in and cut me off. This leaves me with a dead circuit line, until eventually, they allow the line to come back again. If they did not, I would simply not pay my AT&T bill, as even this twisted fucking disease cannot have things both ways all the time, no matter how much they think that they mother fucking can, YO.
I talk about solid helium on other blogs, and skytorcycles that I have ridden over Atlantic City, New Jersey, USAESMWG, or will ride as JOJO, but I do not tell the details of why the great Colaman came to HADDONWOOD CLUB in the middle nineties.
When things come out in detail, right down to who really owns the networks, and I break down how none of these things are imagined or coincidental, JUASON SCUMMER; then and only then will I be either dead, or on my way into court for an all out battle with WOMO. It is you or me bastards, and prisoners have stopped being taken, if they ever were, a long time ago, by bothy sides of this horrendous battle, that even the BIBLER describes, only no one yet, Dr. Camping included, has really even come close to figuring it out. Only Mini-Great Jewelly knows, and this mighty Type-3-EXPLORATRON is more than some pathetic somnambulist, believe me folks. This story does not start in 1969 or 1954, it begins with the stars, the real ones that glitter at night, huh Sarah-Stacey Krassle, my endless TQ love? When I tie it all up this week if this does not stop, this world will be on its way into as hell that will lead to the end of mankind as he now knows it too be, and the ushering in of a new calendar and a new year one, the JEWELLY calendar. As I type this, the fire alarm just went off here. It is every mother fucking day, this is beyond unspeakable, and before it all is over, I may well be in jail, and some of you cunt lappers may be dead in the fucking ground, so tell them all how yo0ur lovely daughter told me that last day, that you are not my buddy, AKS.
END TRANNY, OLD GRANNY.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0281
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0281
world laboratories of 2296
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, 12:42 PM-EST
DECEMBER 4, 2011, MY 57TH BOTBAR FUCKING BIRTHDAY
OFFICIAL RESIDENT OF HELL, AS PER JAMES EARL CARTER
FROM THE YEAR 1986 IN MIDDLE AUGUST
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“WHY JIMMY WHY, UPDATED VERSION”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011 ©
STARTING BLOG:
Monster Music Man next door, woke me again, blaring his horrific loud rotten-neighbor music at me, ruining my entire fucking birthday. There is no way to have peace and cunt lapping quiet in this world. Music is so loved by people, personally, I fucking hate it. I hate it when I am somewhere and a radio or something is playing, and some amateur begins to sing along, totally believing they are either Pavarotti or Carey. If they were, that is one thing; but if not, can't you please save it for your shower room while scrubbing up, and do us all a fucking favor. This jerk off next door is old and either hard of hearing, or like most peeps today, just love to blare away and wreck the only two ears that they were born with, believing wither they are indestructible, or that they live 90 years from now where even full ears and eyes are directly transplantable into the brain without any nerve complications.
I asked Gawky Gaukauk just why all of a sudden this neighbor is driving me up a wall and what and who is behind it, by drawing 72 paying cards, eight suits from two decks, containing all cards from aces through nines. The great black cat said the reason for this new hell and misery in my life, is number PCN-781. Now let us talk about this and a lot of other major mother fucking crap as well folks.
I am imagining none of this 57 years of Doctor Feet and his hell, who? No, that is the guy in the telephone booth with the Donald, exchanging phony weaves, dreams, and comfortable shoe insoles. But yes peeps, the other day, I asked this mighty black cat a question on why that horrific day of the 23rd of November was forced on me by these fucking ass monsters, and yes; the answer was again, PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER (PCN)-781. Today, before I began this blog of SJ-CH-0281, again, I drew the two cards that produce the PCN-ROOT DIGITS, these being the 7 and then the 8. The PCN is the difference between these root digits, if any Doctor, and using this digit as the 3rd one, creating a PCN or ROOT DIGITS 78 becomes PCN-781. My root digits are 87 for example, Donald Trump has root digits 23, and so forth. You must use your exact birth given first and last names to get your life-long PERSONAL PCN. By the way, you cannot exact the GAWNUM the same question, unless it pertains to different potential answers because it is asked at different times during ones life. Other than that exception, only once counts; and thus after that, you will get false answers. Do not try getting the GAWNUM to be your genie and give you yeas and no responses. It is designed as a mighty story telling systems of comparisons and matching's; & not to tell you in a direct question, if Johnny Marshmallow should marry Toni-Louise Macbeth. It is designed to bring a new skill to a user, and this being, learning how to figure things around a query, then by varying the words or phrases of query, they can match up PCN-number results to a second half, such as, “My boss is acting totally weird with me because he found out that I...” The dot-dot-dot are numerous possible things you may be wondering and worrying about, and they also all have their own PCN's, when figured out. Then your master PCN of the sentence with your boss is compared GAWNUMLY with numerous other PCN sentences until you start super sleuthing around and get matching answers. It is not six year old stuff, but it is addictive and also fun and entertaining as hell. It is totally real, and it totally works. Anyone thinking this is not so, needs further education on this exact science. I will tell more and more as time and persecution on this off the scales attack, continues to march fucking on to this demonic evil drumbeat. Now I had no particular blog planned out for this weekend, and really was fucking hoping to catch a break, but the WOMO is making me about as miserable as can be conceived, and is responsible for my first degree premeditated murder. It is official that I said I cannot take much more and will need to take my life, sop if this happens, these peeps all need to go to MOTHERFUCKING PRISON FOR THE REST OF THEIR DIRTY FILTHY TWISTED DISEASED LIVES, TO ROT AND SUFFER; JUST AS THEY CAUSED ME TO, for pushing 30 years or so now!!!! I noticed two other pretty much inescapable bullshit coincidences recently. The minute I say that Donald Trump will be president over my non breathing body, he pops up on his dirt bag owned and mobbed up NBC-NETWORK, floozies and all; and fairy god mother news bells; aha-aha-aha, Michele-1980 & family; he decided all over again that he will run, and then began all this persecution on me, as he is been behind the usage of this ICPE tool, ever since I told his peeps at his casino in the summer time of the year 1986, that I use PARALLEL EVENT SYSTEM, to beat the game of roulette, and this would piss off any fucking casino owner, like DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!You cannot say that if you start with this blog, and read backwards, that I DO NOT HAVE PLENTY OF PROOF THAT BACKS UP MY WORDS HERE, FOLKS, NOT UNLESS YOU WANT THE AWARD OF THE DECADE FOR BEING AN ASS AND A MORON, THAT IS.
Well Gawky, despite many uncertainty's in this old sick world, “God's Dog” may have visited “Babylon”, and not in his doggie form, until he was old enough to do a Nancy Reagan, and just say NO to my dear wonderful sweet mom who took a vicious secret to the grave. But still, this “Prophet of Nothing” from “July twelve, nineteen-seventy” a few years back at that time; did not then know that these four things were all PCN-781, shown above in double-quotation. I have a listing matchbook of a dozen or more other less important things, but for now, these four need to be talked about, as something contained in one all any combination or all of them, is causing this real bad hell, according the magic cat of Copyrighted Halloween Day. I am not trying to win power-balls, that is your thing, MIZZ PAULA UWICH!!!!!!!
This is what is causing this neighbor to blare my wall down every day now without fucking mercy, perhaps at Trump's or Nick's behest, but since I have only what detectives call SOLID MOTIVE, I do not have any court evidence to this effect, so I blog out, maybe at their behest. If you see two mean looking kids in a park, you just got there and they are leaving. One is crying and more bloody and dirty than the other one, but you saw nothing, you can solidly speculate that these boys had been fighting since nobody else is around. But you cannot swear in court, one other thing other than this. None of us would have it any other way, it is to easy to get framed and innocently go off to fucking prison. Many guilty's are out walkin' and talkin', while the innocent's are all locked away inside. As I said to Paula, and some others, Regis sir, dog roofs and radio stations all notwithstanding, “BE CAREFUL”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What is good for the goose, you know. I have nothing against the American Criminal Justice System, except for when it doesn't work, which is quite often. IN MY CASE, IT NEVER DOES, AND NEVER HAS.
Let me quickly get into the song from 1988 that I Copyrighted and wrote from my home in Moorestown, NJUSAESMWG, a mile or so away from the home of baseball giant, Mitch Williams, AKA Mister World Series Gamethrow. I know he honestly tried his best, but some were ready in 1993, to shoot the poor devil. Bu7t baseball, at least not at this precise second, is not the topic at hand folks. The song was what led to the project sent down for copyright, called “THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT”. This is why since the middle of the past decade, my blogs on the web are titled this, along with the additional, “INTERNET VERSION”, LIKE DUHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dave and I had taken a trip in the first week in August back a couple of years, in 1986, one night, into New York City. He wanted to go to some club, and see some friends of his, a musical group called “New Shoes”. I could not handle Saturday night traffic in this incredible city so he took the wheel and parked us a few blocks from the club, as he was not able to find a spot closer than this. I relaxed in the passenger seat for close to an hour while he was inside this club, doing whatever he was doing. As soon as he rounded a corner block, along came a girl crossing from my right to my left, and I could not take my eyes off of this tall teenaged curly haired cutie pie. I admit I was pushing 32 and that she was half my age, but the statute of limitations will run out on what I did with her on the 2nd of August, back in 1993. I believe laws have altered, but grandfathers rights in more ways than one, keep me from seeing the inside of a prison. She told me that her feet hurt as she came around to the driver side of the parked car, and peered in at me, cautiously but confidently. I told her my friend is in the club down the street seeing his pals the New Shoes group. She smiled and asked if she could sit inside and get off of her feet. She removed her shoes and left me instantly wishing she had not, pretty as her feet were. Until 2008 ran around, I thought of this night only a few times ever, and remembered little detail. I know we had a little fun, not the only time I had fun in a car during this period in my life, and yes, with the under-aged, as I was going through the normal middle life crises, that went onto worsen ten to twenty years later, until I began blogging and telling my life story, which had quite a therapeutic effect, and calmed me down like a bottle of Ativan tablets. I thought her name was Maria Kelly, and thought no more of this fuzzy memory, other than to write a very mean song about the experience and copyright it on August 15th, in 1986, a couple weeks after the night in the city, called, “Real Good Girl”. Before she exited the vehicle as I had seen David coming back from the club towards the car; she heard some female artist playing on my car stereo, and had noticed my tape recorder in the back seat with a cassette all ready loaded into it, as I was keeping a life journal of things happening to me. She turned the music way up, and literally blew the poor artist, whoever it was, right out of the water, with a voice like nothing I had ever heard or imagined in my wildest mind. In the few minutes before David had been seen walking towards us from quite a distance, and there was a very bright advertising light right where he was walking past and easy to spot. She had asked me if she could have the tape, and I said that I needed it because it had stuff on it on the flip side, personal conversations with a man named Shorty MacInvondi. She giggled at his name and never knew it was a made up name and used for purposes of electronic metaphysics, unlike Donna Summer Jason, who knows all this so well, at least now, but she knew it then, and was convinced early in the eighties that I was sending magical signals to her, because I used a fast erase button that caused a bias playback high oscillating tone to be audible with good speakers, and she admitted it in her 1982 album. Anyway, I really liked this curly haired girl and we exchanged phone numbers, but I threw hers away near the Lincoln tunnel, as she would have ended up putting me on Rikers Island eventually. I had no idea at all, that SR would be the only charge against me if PK pressed charges on me, as she knew stuff that I did not. She insisted on having the tape, and even though I told her I could not give it to her, she faked out like she was putting the recorder back in the back seat, as it was attached by a short rope, around the seat head rest of the passenger front seat. She lifted the tape, as when I got home it was gone. I never heard anything like her voice, it was straight from the heavens.
None of this by itself is all that amazing as far as PCN-781, but when you factor in other things, watch this all widen out. July 12, 1970 was the last NIGHT, and the only NIGHT, that Sarah's great gang called the Atlantic City QM, standing for Quoddy Mockers, was ever seen by me. They knew me and liked me a lot, they all called me THAT-BOY, and never knew my name. Cousin (SANDY) Sandra Shah Snowhite, of Narberth, PAUSAESMWG; told them my name, but they all insisted on calling me, THAT-BOY. I lied about seeing SARAH herself, the only lie ever told on MORIANITY, but enough to place my good name and credibility into question, unfortunately. It gets a lot better still so do not faint out on me yet peeps, please. Nightmares that recurred all through the late eighties and nineties of the past century, haunted me in series of ominous and outlandish vividly colorful dreams of groups and groups of huge air balloons. The girl running the entire thing that was going on, was always the same; and her name was Patty Lang. This name, Paula King, and many others, is one powerful entity and personality by the name Later I realized I had worked with a girl by this name at the recording studio and had totally put this out of my conscious mind from 1979-1981 until I quit on March the eleventh. Her husband was a commercial airlines pilot. They commuted from a place right near the Delaware Memorial Bridge, one hell of a spurious long commute to both of their jobs. Photos of air balloons were both on her hand bag at the studio, as well as a stick or peel on, where she was given permission to place. on the main duplicator machine near the master system; connected to the group of 10 or so electronic-slaves or “duplicators” both accepted terms in the recording business of those days, and I saw these balloons every night at work. This led to those nightmares beginning after I met and did the unspeakable with my own daughter, regarding balloons and Patty. As for God's Dog, our Midge at the Judge's place in Hammonton Berryville, Frank Raso; owner of the rooming-house, before I had been talked into moving in with these distant cousins of my kid; was the most adorable dog I ever met. Add got rid of poor little Midge because she had attacked and killed one of her [precious Cockateel birds. Spell fucking checker is no help whatsoever and I know the species of that bird type is misspelled, so no comments please, tell MICROSUCKS to improve their rotten spellchecker system. THANK-YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know for almost certain, Dawn-Marie called her distant cuzz MC, and sent her a pix. Right after this, she got the same dog. I could be wrong but feel that I am not. The empire ruler knows that on the Astral Plane, I can indeed talk, and that she is endlessly age sixteen out in her wonderful city of SAHASRA DAL KANWAL. This is why I ended up seeing her cool commercial on television that day with the treadmill.
I had my friend at the Indian River State College (IRSC) here in South Florida, run just a few things like this as mathematical odds for happening all just by random chance. He told me it would be trillions if not quadrillions to one against this all being just coincidental. I believe him. Do any of you? This is a tenured professor, not a disabled nutcase certified by the psychiatric profession as a life-long whack-job. Then there is Babylon and all its yacht clubs, banker uncles, astral trips, and balloon bank payments. This is where I was forced to go and visit these rotten and snooty relatives of mine, and was put to work like a slave, either in the yard or on that rotten boat that he loved to take out sailing around LI Sound every freaking summer, with his pal MISTER JIMMY DEAN, and his daughter Christine, who I hear in 1975, got as bit hot and heavy, oh well, who am I to talk, after that night with my own daughter in 1986? I wonder how far I was from Rikers Island. I suppose as close as the nearest cop, oh well, fortune favors the foolish, huh William Whales Shatner????????????????????????????
When I talked a dozen blogs or so back about comparing PCN-550 with PCN-550, the reason it fucked up, is my error folks, for those who fucking caught this, sorry. It was December, two-thousand-nine, but I typed into the blog 2010, my error, oh well Bruce Allen Pennock of 1973, NOBODY'S PERFECT, not even Mini Great Jewelly, or Mini Great Ripperton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So sahwee Ambassador Bomb of December the seventh, in 1941, kind sir. Watch the audio volume. Hell my next door nut case nabe would wipe out Fort Pierce with that song I sent down there in 1983, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.
MAGNESONIC, KICK IN OR I WILL FUCKING KICK FUCKING ASS, YO!!!!
ENDING BLOG:
world laboratories of 2296
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, 12:42 PM-EST
DECEMBER 4, 2011, MY 57TH BOTBAR FUCKING BIRTHDAY
OFFICIAL RESIDENT OF HELL, AS PER JAMES EARL CARTER
FROM THE YEAR 1986 IN MIDDLE AUGUST
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“WHY JIMMY WHY, UPDATED VERSION”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN 2006-2011 ©
STARTING BLOG:
Monster Music Man next door, woke me again, blaring his horrific loud rotten-neighbor music at me, ruining my entire fucking birthday. There is no way to have peace and cunt lapping quiet in this world. Music is so loved by people, personally, I fucking hate it. I hate it when I am somewhere and a radio or something is playing, and some amateur begins to sing along, totally believing they are either Pavarotti or Carey. If they were, that is one thing; but if not, can't you please save it for your shower room while scrubbing up, and do us all a fucking favor. This jerk off next door is old and either hard of hearing, or like most peeps today, just love to blare away and wreck the only two ears that they were born with, believing wither they are indestructible, or that they live 90 years from now where even full ears and eyes are directly transplantable into the brain without any nerve complications.
I asked Gawky Gaukauk just why all of a sudden this neighbor is driving me up a wall and what and who is behind it, by drawing 72 paying cards, eight suits from two decks, containing all cards from aces through nines. The great black cat said the reason for this new hell and misery in my life, is number PCN-781. Now let us talk about this and a lot of other major mother fucking crap as well folks.
I am imagining none of this 57 years of Doctor Feet and his hell, who? No, that is the guy in the telephone booth with the Donald, exchanging phony weaves, dreams, and comfortable shoe insoles. But yes peeps, the other day, I asked this mighty black cat a question on why that horrific day of the 23rd of November was forced on me by these fucking ass monsters, and yes; the answer was again, PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER (PCN)-781. Today, before I began this blog of SJ-CH-0281, again, I drew the two cards that produce the PCN-ROOT DIGITS, these being the 7 and then the 8. The PCN is the difference between these root digits, if any Doctor, and using this digit as the 3rd one, creating a PCN or ROOT DIGITS 78 becomes PCN-781. My root digits are 87 for example, Donald Trump has root digits 23, and so forth. You must use your exact birth given first and last names to get your life-long PERSONAL PCN. By the way, you cannot exact the GAWNUM the same question, unless it pertains to different potential answers because it is asked at different times during ones life. Other than that exception, only once counts; and thus after that, you will get false answers. Do not try getting the GAWNUM to be your genie and give you yeas and no responses. It is designed as a mighty story telling systems of comparisons and matching's; & not to tell you in a direct question, if Johnny Marshmallow should marry Toni-Louise Macbeth. It is designed to bring a new skill to a user, and this being, learning how to figure things around a query, then by varying the words or phrases of query, they can match up PCN-number results to a second half, such as, “My boss is acting totally weird with me because he found out that I...” The dot-dot-dot are numerous possible things you may be wondering and worrying about, and they also all have their own PCN's, when figured out. Then your master PCN of the sentence with your boss is compared GAWNUMLY with numerous other PCN sentences until you start super sleuthing around and get matching answers. It is not six year old stuff, but it is addictive and also fun and entertaining as hell. It is totally real, and it totally works. Anyone thinking this is not so, needs further education on this exact science. I will tell more and more as time and persecution on this off the scales attack, continues to march fucking on to this demonic evil drumbeat. Now I had no particular blog planned out for this weekend, and really was fucking hoping to catch a break, but the WOMO is making me about as miserable as can be conceived, and is responsible for my first degree premeditated murder. It is official that I said I cannot take much more and will need to take my life, sop if this happens, these peeps all need to go to MOTHERFUCKING PRISON FOR THE REST OF THEIR DIRTY FILTHY TWISTED DISEASED LIVES, TO ROT AND SUFFER; JUST AS THEY CAUSED ME TO, for pushing 30 years or so now!!!! I noticed two other pretty much inescapable bullshit coincidences recently. The minute I say that Donald Trump will be president over my non breathing body, he pops up on his dirt bag owned and mobbed up NBC-NETWORK, floozies and all; and fairy god mother news bells; aha-aha-aha, Michele-1980 & family; he decided all over again that he will run, and then began all this persecution on me, as he is been behind the usage of this ICPE tool, ever since I told his peeps at his casino in the summer time of the year 1986, that I use PARALLEL EVENT SYSTEM, to beat the game of roulette, and this would piss off any fucking casino owner, like DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!You cannot say that if you start with this blog, and read backwards, that I DO NOT HAVE PLENTY OF PROOF THAT BACKS UP MY WORDS HERE, FOLKS, NOT UNLESS YOU WANT THE AWARD OF THE DECADE FOR BEING AN ASS AND A MORON, THAT IS.
Well Gawky, despite many uncertainty's in this old sick world, “God's Dog” may have visited “Babylon”, and not in his doggie form, until he was old enough to do a Nancy Reagan, and just say NO to my dear wonderful sweet mom who took a vicious secret to the grave. But still, this “Prophet of Nothing” from “July twelve, nineteen-seventy” a few years back at that time; did not then know that these four things were all PCN-781, shown above in double-quotation. I have a listing matchbook of a dozen or more other less important things, but for now, these four need to be talked about, as something contained in one all any combination or all of them, is causing this real bad hell, according the magic cat of Copyrighted Halloween Day. I am not trying to win power-balls, that is your thing, MIZZ PAULA UWICH!!!!!!!
This is what is causing this neighbor to blare my wall down every day now without fucking mercy, perhaps at Trump's or Nick's behest, but since I have only what detectives call SOLID MOTIVE, I do not have any court evidence to this effect, so I blog out, maybe at their behest. If you see two mean looking kids in a park, you just got there and they are leaving. One is crying and more bloody and dirty than the other one, but you saw nothing, you can solidly speculate that these boys had been fighting since nobody else is around. But you cannot swear in court, one other thing other than this. None of us would have it any other way, it is to easy to get framed and innocently go off to fucking prison. Many guilty's are out walkin' and talkin', while the innocent's are all locked away inside. As I said to Paula, and some others, Regis sir, dog roofs and radio stations all notwithstanding, “BE CAREFUL”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What is good for the goose, you know. I have nothing against the American Criminal Justice System, except for when it doesn't work, which is quite often. IN MY CASE, IT NEVER DOES, AND NEVER HAS.
Let me quickly get into the song from 1988 that I Copyrighted and wrote from my home in Moorestown, NJUSAESMWG, a mile or so away from the home of baseball giant, Mitch Williams, AKA Mister World Series Gamethrow. I know he honestly tried his best, but some were ready in 1993, to shoot the poor devil. Bu7t baseball, at least not at this precise second, is not the topic at hand folks. The song was what led to the project sent down for copyright, called “THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT”. This is why since the middle of the past decade, my blogs on the web are titled this, along with the additional, “INTERNET VERSION”, LIKE DUHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dave and I had taken a trip in the first week in August back a couple of years, in 1986, one night, into New York City. He wanted to go to some club, and see some friends of his, a musical group called “New Shoes”. I could not handle Saturday night traffic in this incredible city so he took the wheel and parked us a few blocks from the club, as he was not able to find a spot closer than this. I relaxed in the passenger seat for close to an hour while he was inside this club, doing whatever he was doing. As soon as he rounded a corner block, along came a girl crossing from my right to my left, and I could not take my eyes off of this tall teenaged curly haired cutie pie. I admit I was pushing 32 and that she was half my age, but the statute of limitations will run out on what I did with her on the 2nd of August, back in 1993. I believe laws have altered, but grandfathers rights in more ways than one, keep me from seeing the inside of a prison. She told me that her feet hurt as she came around to the driver side of the parked car, and peered in at me, cautiously but confidently. I told her my friend is in the club down the street seeing his pals the New Shoes group. She smiled and asked if she could sit inside and get off of her feet. She removed her shoes and left me instantly wishing she had not, pretty as her feet were. Until 2008 ran around, I thought of this night only a few times ever, and remembered little detail. I know we had a little fun, not the only time I had fun in a car during this period in my life, and yes, with the under-aged, as I was going through the normal middle life crises, that went onto worsen ten to twenty years later, until I began blogging and telling my life story, which had quite a therapeutic effect, and calmed me down like a bottle of Ativan tablets. I thought her name was Maria Kelly, and thought no more of this fuzzy memory, other than to write a very mean song about the experience and copyright it on August 15th, in 1986, a couple weeks after the night in the city, called, “Real Good Girl”. Before she exited the vehicle as I had seen David coming back from the club towards the car; she heard some female artist playing on my car stereo, and had noticed my tape recorder in the back seat with a cassette all ready loaded into it, as I was keeping a life journal of things happening to me. She turned the music way up, and literally blew the poor artist, whoever it was, right out of the water, with a voice like nothing I had ever heard or imagined in my wildest mind. In the few minutes before David had been seen walking towards us from quite a distance, and there was a very bright advertising light right where he was walking past and easy to spot. She had asked me if she could have the tape, and I said that I needed it because it had stuff on it on the flip side, personal conversations with a man named Shorty MacInvondi. She giggled at his name and never knew it was a made up name and used for purposes of electronic metaphysics, unlike Donna Summer Jason, who knows all this so well, at least now, but she knew it then, and was convinced early in the eighties that I was sending magical signals to her, because I used a fast erase button that caused a bias playback high oscillating tone to be audible with good speakers, and she admitted it in her 1982 album. Anyway, I really liked this curly haired girl and we exchanged phone numbers, but I threw hers away near the Lincoln tunnel, as she would have ended up putting me on Rikers Island eventually. I had no idea at all, that SR would be the only charge against me if PK pressed charges on me, as she knew stuff that I did not. She insisted on having the tape, and even though I told her I could not give it to her, she faked out like she was putting the recorder back in the back seat, as it was attached by a short rope, around the seat head rest of the passenger front seat. She lifted the tape, as when I got home it was gone. I never heard anything like her voice, it was straight from the heavens.
None of this by itself is all that amazing as far as PCN-781, but when you factor in other things, watch this all widen out. July 12, 1970 was the last NIGHT, and the only NIGHT, that Sarah's great gang called the Atlantic City QM, standing for Quoddy Mockers, was ever seen by me. They knew me and liked me a lot, they all called me THAT-BOY, and never knew my name. Cousin (SANDY) Sandra Shah Snowhite, of Narberth, PAUSAESMWG; told them my name, but they all insisted on calling me, THAT-BOY. I lied about seeing SARAH herself, the only lie ever told on MORIANITY, but enough to place my good name and credibility into question, unfortunately. It gets a lot better still so do not faint out on me yet peeps, please. Nightmares that recurred all through the late eighties and nineties of the past century, haunted me in series of ominous and outlandish vividly colorful dreams of groups and groups of huge air balloons. The girl running the entire thing that was going on, was always the same; and her name was Patty Lang. This name, Paula King, and many others, is one powerful entity and personality by the name Later I realized I had worked with a girl by this name at the recording studio and had totally put this out of my conscious mind from 1979-1981 until I quit on March the eleventh. Her husband was a commercial airlines pilot. They commuted from a place right near the Delaware Memorial Bridge, one hell of a spurious long commute to both of their jobs. Photos of air balloons were both on her hand bag at the studio, as well as a stick or peel on, where she was given permission to place. on the main duplicator machine near the master system; connected to the group of 10 or so electronic-slaves or “duplicators” both accepted terms in the recording business of those days, and I saw these balloons every night at work. This led to those nightmares beginning after I met and did the unspeakable with my own daughter, regarding balloons and Patty. As for God's Dog, our Midge at the Judge's place in Hammonton Berryville, Frank Raso; owner of the rooming-house, before I had been talked into moving in with these distant cousins of my kid; was the most adorable dog I ever met. Add got rid of poor little Midge because she had attacked and killed one of her [precious Cockateel birds. Spell fucking checker is no help whatsoever and I know the species of that bird type is misspelled, so no comments please, tell MICROSUCKS to improve their rotten spellchecker system. THANK-YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know for almost certain, Dawn-Marie called her distant cuzz MC, and sent her a pix. Right after this, she got the same dog. I could be wrong but feel that I am not. The empire ruler knows that on the Astral Plane, I can indeed talk, and that she is endlessly age sixteen out in her wonderful city of SAHASRA DAL KANWAL. This is why I ended up seeing her cool commercial on television that day with the treadmill.
I had my friend at the Indian River State College (IRSC) here in South Florida, run just a few things like this as mathematical odds for happening all just by random chance. He told me it would be trillions if not quadrillions to one against this all being just coincidental. I believe him. Do any of you? This is a tenured professor, not a disabled nutcase certified by the psychiatric profession as a life-long whack-job. Then there is Babylon and all its yacht clubs, banker uncles, astral trips, and balloon bank payments. This is where I was forced to go and visit these rotten and snooty relatives of mine, and was put to work like a slave, either in the yard or on that rotten boat that he loved to take out sailing around LI Sound every freaking summer, with his pal MISTER JIMMY DEAN, and his daughter Christine, who I hear in 1975, got as bit hot and heavy, oh well, who am I to talk, after that night with my own daughter in 1986? I wonder how far I was from Rikers Island. I suppose as close as the nearest cop, oh well, fortune favors the foolish, huh William Whales Shatner????????????????????????????
When I talked a dozen blogs or so back about comparing PCN-550 with PCN-550, the reason it fucked up, is my error folks, for those who fucking caught this, sorry. It was December, two-thousand-nine, but I typed into the blog 2010, my error, oh well Bruce Allen Pennock of 1973, NOBODY'S PERFECT, not even Mini Great Jewelly, or Mini Great Ripperton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So sahwee Ambassador Bomb of December the seventh, in 1941, kind sir. Watch the audio volume. Hell my next door nut case nabe would wipe out Fort Pierce with that song I sent down there in 1983, sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.
MAGNESONIC, KICK IN OR I WILL FUCKING KICK FUCKING ASS, YO!!!!
ENDING BLOG:
Posted by theansweristheqyuestion
Oh
Dawn and Daddy; quit sliding that disgusting junk. YUK!!!!!
Not
only didn't I kick much ass, but I got the ass kicking of the
century, to quote my old ex-business partner from the great SPR,
Mister PP Pedersen. But I now now that I had lots and lots of help in
getting totally destroyed, as if I wasn't mother fuckiGN wrecked,
ruined, and totally destroyed in hell, long before I even came here
to Sunny Paradise Florida, from up there in No Joysey! I believe it
is even on the dam CD, but in any case, “What
a family”!
Boy oh boy, Mom and Diana, could I use some dam help out here in the
hyperspace!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Maybe Evelyn didn't tell the whole
story to me, after-all she was just a little dam girl, up there on
Heinz's yacht dock, in what many New Yorker locals refer to as South
Huntington, and I remember it only as babbling on and on, of for
short, and to keep the fucking Egyptian Pharaohs happy, BABYLON, YO
YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
08-08-08
HUH DARIUS. HEY BRAH, when you try using the link I posted, you still
have to type in your name of Deezy slim in a search box. If there is
a direct link to your great stuff, old pal, feel free to post it on
my blog. Just promise not to choke me like nick likes to do, in these
near-parallel places, such as that rotten dam lake house, YO
DUDES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Blog Archive
About Me
- theansweristheqyuestion
- Not boring, without hesitation nor concern for fibbing, I can honestly say with a knowing that out of 8 billion that live or have lived here, none have shared my wild ride through hyperspace, with awareness
|
|
|
Global Audience In Shade Ratio Popularity: |
END
TRANSMISSION.
No comments:
Post a Comment