SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0311-B
{{{((((THERE IS NO 0311-A, IT WAS HACKED AWAY.))))}}}
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“THIS WILL BE AN ATTEMPTED REDO, AND IN ADDITION,
I WILL THROW IN SOME TOTALLY POWERFUL DEATH BLOWS”
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY, TIME HAS LOST ALL MEANING.
WORLD LABORATORIES, LABBER ZEJJINS SPEAKING VIA STM.
START BLOG:
Well, nothing is safe, hence the word and term SAFE BLOG is a real Lee Daniels laugh, so let us forget the horrible stair chases I witnessed in the early seventies up north, and move on. We will get into the man at the Atlantic City beach who said to me, “I'M LATE, I'M LATE”, and many many many many other things, that you totally CAN believe folks. I'll guarantee it George Foreman and Mens Warehouse, and Tahren Gandhi and wife Rieka, from 1997. If they hack this blog, an antimatter zeepee explosion will level this continent at precisely 12:15 Pacific Standard time.
Just a few things talked about and quite obviously not appreciated, were my internet negative exposure was all started 5-7 years ago somewhere by Donna Summer, Jason Forrest, and Aquarius Records, someone boosted my car stereo with a cassette tape inside it, and when internet became bigger in ten years give or take, it was given a title called, “The Meaning of Life”, and posted up there as if I titled this tape that, and I DID NOT, quite obviously Donna's revenge for mistaking my son in law with her, she had a track record of dfoing some strange stuff to me, but nowhere near in Nicky's league, with time snatching and Saint John spiriting up to mountain cliffs and church steeples, and then making deals and promises, with no intention of making good on them. Then I talked about Haddonwood and Tony Zenun and 1994-1996 at this strange bizarre health club in West Deptford, New Jersey. The main things were Estelle Bassler of Ormund Beach, Florida, originally from 30 Plaza Place in South Atlantic City, and how I talked to her on the telephone in 1997 a lot, leading to Paula King murdering my mm after giving her a series of wild outlandish and vivid 'dreams'. I went into the most details about the man who said, in so many words,“Excuse me for plagiarizing Alison Wonderland”. Then I told how I eventually remembered quite recently, that the police officer who first gave chase to this man, who was about 35 years of age, medium to slight build, dark neatly groomed shortish hair for those times in the late sixties, and standing about somewhere between five feet ten inches and maybe an inch over six feet one inch in height. This man was way more than an ordinary beach goer that day, and was attempting to figure out a safe way to put the universe that we are all living in on this exact atomic frequency, back the way it would have gone if Paula King, as she was known on the ACNJUSAESMWG street by Sarah's gang, had not forcibly grabbed me and taken me back underneath the Central Pier at Tennessee Avenue and the Ocean, and made passionate love to me. I'll always love this wild crazy girl, nothing will stop that. Still, bigger issues are at stake, bigger than me and my DNA that is. Certain things have points in hyperspace where things are set to move from that point in either minor or major alterations. There is no way to duplicate the last blog, Ed Lynch never understood this. These words may have an occasional note here and there, but for the most part, they are literally 'spirit guided, moment to moment and word by word, I am typing slower than my mind is hearing the message, this is STM from my life as Labber Zeggins in the late twenty-two hundreds. I cannot force anyone reading this to believe a word I say. This is why this safe journal is kept now, because it was proven to me that any other way of recording my life can be made to vanish and disappear, and so can even the Safe Journal, as we know tonight. It was only recently that I realized that my powerful early autumn-1994 dreaming interaction at Highview Apartments, in WILL---I AM---STOWN, New Jersey; all took place with Sarah Krassle, right there at this very spot where she was conceived again later on, if we examine space-time in the light of four and five dimensions, not spacial ones, but more like the true signal-energy that transmits downward in the lower 5 dimensional hyperspace, filtering first through the subatomic ASTRAL PLANE. I also figured out that Paula chased me away from my SARAH in that 1994 dream because she had new plans, and I was stuck mentally in the past, trying to find the All mighty as SHE knew me from the sixties, and not even the FASCITAR worked to find HER, as SHE was no longer here as the Sarah I knew from back then. But there are a million more major complexities than I can ever type on one blog or in one day. Some of my life has indeed been printed, and is the MORIANITY PROJECT. It is in two separate blogs now at www.blogger.com/ .These chapters that begin at #0286, are all on the second blog part, as GOOGLE would not let me post up past #0285 Safe Journal on the old site. NOW, DO YOU DUDES AND DUDDESSES UNDERSTAND WHY I HAVE USED YOUR FREAKING COPYRIGHT OFFICE SO MUCH OVER THE PAST 35 YEARS OR SO? IF I CANNOT TRUST YOU, I MIGHT AS WELL JUST NUKE BOMB THIS ENTIRE PLANET. I have the right to speak and tell my life, you have no right to claim to be a free society and act as global police persons, and then fucking ass deny me my civil liberties to tell my incredible mother fucking story, no matter how you might not like what it may say and tell, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, you CAN shut me up, but then you CANNOT call yourself a FREE COUNTRY, it just won't work, mother fuckers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This man on the beach that day in early August of 1969 was sent back to try and stop the great PK from raping me, and he was, as he said; a bit late. He realized this, and if you study a fantastic top seller paranormal book of the late 20th century by Doctor Bruce Goldberg, called, “Time Travelers From Our Future”, Many MOVERS that apply their skills on physical planes using the CHEMTRAILS or the TIMETUBES, are slightly more effective than the mastered colluded group of type-3-exploratrons, who move through the 5th dimension or dream, in full control, with absolute lucidity at all waking and sleeping levels, being thus able to literally snatch control temporarily of doppelganger THEM-bodies, and in some advanced cases, even control machines and bodies that are not their own twinallities.
Let me tell you a secret so incredibly fantastic that I was not planning to ever share it, and believe me it is only scratching at the surface of a gigantic iceberg part lying below. All year long since January of two thousand and ten, I wanted to tape Christmas music on a Vero Beach station. Last year it was on at work and I tuned it in at home up at the 26th Street house in the hood of Fort Pierce before moving down to 7th Avenue at the Public Housing Building in late springtime. I also wanted to tape the version of “A CHRISTMAS CAROL” played by the dude who plays trhe captain on TNG-Star Trek, Patrick Stuart. This version has a lovely version of the song written by my fathers grandfather, Joseph Mohr, “Silent Night”. Right before that particular scene, OTAMM made me get a wicked shit attack and caused me to run to the bathroom in agony. Without the old style VCR's, you cannot tape record certain cable stations, due to a lack of output power on their channel, they will not admit to this, but it is totally true. This show two years in a row was only played on that one station, TNT that is non-recordable. Also, the Vero Beach radio station that played all the great music of the season last year, just vanished into the Copperfield fucking hat this year, and I could not receive any real decent Christmas music; even way up on the 6th mother fucking floor of a building. They, the WOMO filth, had this all pre-planned!!! The odds of making me miss my movie part, and lose all my fucking Christmas music, by pure random chance, are millions to one against this being all perfectly perpetrated against me by pure fucking ass random chance folks. You all can just go and believe whatever the shitting hell you like, and remain in a denial and nice cozy whittle comfort zone, but thank you, I will hold onto REALITY, peeps, ugly and messy and stenchy as it may be, BRRR! With this exact same mother fucking precision and accuracy of a Swiss time piece, these fuck heads orchestrated and organized my entire life going to hell, day by day, in a surreal pre-planned methodology now, for over 571 deciannums. They somehow used my going with David Roth that night in the middle nineties, to the Friendly Ice Cream Store, on Route One, in Northeast Philadelphia, to get Aquarius Records to defame my character on the famous internet page that is the main reason for me not being able to assume a rightful place in family situations, I know how shit works in this world, I am not a fucking ass retard, the page comes up on numerous hits, one being if you GOOGLE up the words, “MARK WAYNE MOHR OF HAMMONTON, NEW JERSEY”. Donna,m are you happy now that you got your revenge on your pretty white boy??????????????????????????????????????
No this is not even half the blog it was meant to be, they fucked me up real fucking ass good folks. But let me tell you a few little things. If you would just GOOGLE up the GAWNUM, and learn how to use this magical technique for acquiring omniscience, and then become skilled at writing questions the way they need in order to make GAWNUM PCN MATCH-UPS, then you could literally prove to yourself that all of MORIANITY AND MOUNTAINPEN's words are true and real, and find out that there are no balloon hoaxes whatsoever going on here. The mathematics of it would mother fucking blow your cunt eating miserable minds at light speed cubed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The main thing WOMO did not like about BLOG SJ #0311-A, is that it told a powerful super ass truth about three cosmic verses of scripture that is private to me, and belongs to no one else, because it is meant only for me, am I correct here MISTER James T. Burr, kind sir?????????????????????????????
ONE--------YOUR FRIENDS ARE IN THE SHOP.
TWO-------I'M DARKER THAN YOU ARE.
THREE-----I'M LATE, I'M LATE.
Now the first two were spoken by All Mighty Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, on Tennessee Avenue in the late spring and early summer of 1969. The first verse was heard on Memorial Day in 1969, on the 30th day of May. My Haddonfield special education teacher, misses Marola, was the direct reason that I heard these magical words, and was cosmically destined to hear them, by putting me on Tennessee Avenue at precisely the correct time for me to do so. The second verse was heard early in July, after I was raped underneath the Central Pier (CP). Certain symbolic initials seem to be totally inescapable, YO. Neither of these verses were spoken to me directly, but upon HER seeing me on the street walking, both times heading away from the Atlantic Ocean and westbound towards Pacific Avenue, along Tennessee Avenue and on the northern side of this bizarre street where time and space and dimension seem to be all under their own separate laws and orders, as if the All Mighty's zero dimensional point of creation is right there. Now verse three was not spoken by HER, it was spoken by some MOVER who tried to keep her alive as Sarah. I used event he FASCITAR to try and find her early in the 21st century while residing at the Mullica Township, New jersey trailer park, owned by scum bag bitch times ten to the power of a trillion, Jenny Plageman. You cannot find someone here who is not here, but has moved on into another part of HER great self. You know, if I am totally ignorant, crazy, and delusional, is there not one mother fucker out here smart enough to know that in 1983, what would the odds be for a set of lyrics that go, “19 years have come and gone, and all that's left is our sweet song, and it makes me blue, when I'm not with you”??????????????????? If I could measure the intellect of this puny planet my friends and fiends, I swear I'd need to use a freaking nanometer, just to find the nanometer that I'd then need to use!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gimme' a bwake Elmer Wabbit Fwudddddd!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Moving on still beyond this folks, the running beach-man ran passed me hollering to me, “I'm late, I'm late”. Did he really think he was Alison Wonderland, or was he just too late to put things back to where they were before the Marola family interfered on several occasions, along with other powerful MAS of the WO (Movers and Shakers) (World-Owners).
Look peeps, I have been being studied, observed, watched, and messed with, by some kind of alien force, and by alien I just mean they are not the guy next door, all though right now that laugh might well be on me Lee Daniels, stair chase games and all, abnd here is another perfectly good example. How can the greatest RA on this planet, after my blogs tell of those horrible stairs and the chases, agree to do such a movie, great as it was and is? First off, laughing off the horrors of childhood in her case is beyond mind blowing, and then secondly, she is verifying my blogs are not made up, if anyone just would be half ass smart enough to be able to freaking add up two plus two and not arrive at a three or a freaking seven, YO. Then speaking of stuff like powerful peeps and forces doing stuff that admits to the validity of my words on these 6-7 years of blogs now, take McDonald's. There is a brand new television commercial, only they are using queens and a six, how stupid do they think I am, or do they know that only I am smart enough to catch any of this? This is more difficult to grasp IMHO than a thousand E=MC SQ equations could ever be, all tied up nice and neatly together.
END BLOG, YO, WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
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