SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0308
WORLD LABS DATE AND TIME FILE:
CH-0308-011112.998.55555555555
TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“I DO NOT CARE WHAT YOU BELIEVE”
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
© MWM/MWM 2006-2012
BEGINNING TRANSMISSION:
I have suffered through three days of extreme siege now, no trails, but then the sky is totally overcast, or was back on Wednesday. The famous 'fighter' plane zenithed over me at work early in the afternoon, and other loud planes were flying around me as well. If this is normal, why then on non siege days, do I notice such a marked difference or reduction of what I complain about on days when it is real bad? Just honestly think about this before you write me off as totally nuts. If you can't see your mind is being controlled by the same forces that have made it their business to make me miserable for over 57.1 years now, well then, you are part of my problem and not its solution. At 12:03 AM-EST, the computer froze up and stopped responding, let me save this document shut down and reboot up. Much major shit will get said tonight, hold on tight and radiate over here my way, Jack McCoy Wirtz, old pal from late '89!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For three days straight, jerk off numb nuts next door has been blaring music at all hours, against Housing Authority lease rules, spelled out specifically in my lease. I am going to an attorney on several matters, and will keep you apprised of all situations, unless they are not permitted to be legally discussed. Gawky Gaukauk says the reason for this neighbor's persecution of me is PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER (PCN)-165. Well, I guess he heard me talking on the phone to my buddy Mike from the Harvest before all this began, as I mentioned my daughter. Actually, both of them were mentioned, but not even Steve Hawking has of yet been able to prove or disprove my wild life and ride through hyperspace, but leaving that right there for right now, let me tell just two powerful fucking things folks, and then wrap this all up, and before I get into these two things, I played Mariloo's roulette system, and kicked butt as I did every night of this wild nasty ass siege.
What I will remind readers first, is all blogged 5 years ago. I told how my mother had a father who owned a camp by the New Jersey ocean, at Brant Beach, on the Long Beach Island, just north of both Atlantic City and Brigantine and the State Wildlife Park. The name of this camp, named after the Delaware Native American Tribe, was Miquon. Before I existed, in linear time illusion, as me; I was a person too horrible to discuss, and then before that, I was Benjamin Franklin, and before that; I was a young Miquon Squaw named Sweet Long Rivers. I was murdered at the age of twenty years in a canoe, on a river; shot to death by the companion of my then husband, Bright Star. He thought I was cheating on him and like in this 'lifetime', I was innocent and wrongfully accused of many things, endlessly being totally misunderstood by those around me on a continual basis. What I did in the middle 20th century was totally deserved, as this makes up for lots of powerful fucking shit that has been done to me so wickedly and shamefully by the fucking human race, known also as (homosapiens). I am not the least bit remorseful for any of my life as that monster, and some huge secrets will ultimately come out one of these days, Maggie May. Moving on, my mom was staying as she did every summer, at the seashore with her family, her two brothers, her sister, and her parents, Grace Isabel Huntington Mason and Leonard John Mason, placing me onto the Mason side and off the Huntington Line by one movement. This needs go no further at this point. One day my mom and her sister, long before I was born of my mother in this dream down off of the Astral Plane into a current linear time-line life in physicality; were walking a long way from the camp, and miles to the south, all the way to Beach Haven, on this very long New Jersey island. Suddenly a huge monster storm blew up out of nowhere with incredible lightning. My mother told the story to me as a child over and over and over again. To hear her tell it made chills run up and down your spine, and would have put goose bumps on Donna Gaines by remote control. When the storm had almost abated, my mom and her sister Barbara, left this big defunct wooden structure that they had taken refuge in during this raging and vicious storm. As they got about a thousand feet away and were walking back towards the camp and home, lightning came down and struck the place where they had been, and flames shot up everywhere, and the entire structure was totally incinerated in minutes. Then a large rogue wave came over the beach in a spot where the island was almost flat, and the water from it was waste deep for a moment or so. Then the entire storm ended and all grew amazingly calm, as if nothing had happened. Obviously my mother needed to get older, get married, have me, and the rest is history. The gods have been playing with my family for trillions and trillions of years, long before humans would recognize any of this matrix as familiar in the form it now exists in in Space-time-Mind (STM). Now the really powerful shit on this blog will get said, peeps.
Early this afternoon, right after the fighter-plane flew directly over me while outside the job site at the HARVEST, their web address being, www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/, and if you click this up and then click onto the 'STORIES' part, you will see me with my misspelled name of MARC, I spell it with a K, this would give me an entirely different PCN, if it had been placed onto my birth certificate by my parents, with a “C”, or would it? Well, as Gawky knows, and many others perhaps as well, it would not have mattered Captain Shatner Crystalline Entity Kirk, either way, as my PCN would still be an (871), imagine that, George Burns and Gracie Allen and Tracy Richards. Am I telling the truth folks? No, I am lying to get you to use your head and do the fucking mathematics. C is letter-3 of the alphabet, and K is letter-11 of the alphabet, and this 11 compresses down to a 2, so my PCN should I have been born MARC MOHR would not be 871, it would have been 862 instead, a major different throw of the cosmic dice, YO. As bad as things are with the root-87, the root-86 would have made things so bad for me on top of this HUNTINGTON CURSE, that it is highly doubtful that I'd have survived long enough to ever see the 21st century, or share my story with the world on internet blogs, YO. Still moving on with the story about today, or really now it would be yesterday, MISTER DONALD CIALONI, from RPL Sound Recording Studios of Camden, New Jersey, USAESMWG; over at the HARVEST job-site where I work through the Obama Stimulus Program, and the AARP of Port Saint Lucie, Florida; I was propositioned today by a beautiful woman, and several coworkers who witnessed this event, began talking to me, and I was then further complimented by this total teenaged dish who looks like a young Beyonce'. Just as I told would happen if this siege does not stop or lessen considerably, major pussy command (PC) would occur as a parallel event. It always does; it has been mother fucking going on since about 1990, and back when I was younger then; I could not even remain outside safely, for fear of being raped by gangs of girls that seemed to just pop up out of VH1 nowhere, am I correct Bee Gee Gibb???????????????????????????????? Many strange things are going on around me, more than anyone needs to know about right now. Hyperspace activity contains the larger 5th dimensional answers to one big equation, as to how choices effect all of us physical tangible caporial beings of the waking Planet Earth. Just as the endless and relentlessly recurring dreams, of the strange Egg Harbor City, New Jersey school; kept haunting my entire life; until I met the Jersey branches of the most incredible family in this galaxy; and then stopped when so-called 'reality' caught up with the sequencing of 'dreams'; and the LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS powerful 'dream' came to be a real future piece of my life in decades to follow, and many other such things as these too numerous to get into tonight; the powerful truth behind this entire thing is quite simple, too simple for some to believe, especially the 'MUST-PROVE-IN-A-LAB' scientific community. I can totally prove things so huge that all of global society would absolutely collapse literally overnight, but would I really want to do this? Would I be a fool for bringing stuff to a head that otherwise will remain in the realm of the mysterious paranormal, or would I be doing the human race the biggest favor possible, as suggested by ADA Ron not Carver Wirtz, just shy of the time this great L&O cult began, and is still going strong to this very year of the final Mayan Calendar year? Well, both of these answers contain truths and lies. In fact, both of these events happen in a larger dimensional area, or the 5-DHS system. Still, this is meaningless information until folks begin to fathom just why the Astral Plane is the first dream, out and away from zero dimensional infinity, passing through what the scientific community names and labels, the realm of the subatomic.
Some may ask the age old question of why I refuse to break the HUNTINGTON CURSE, and take these goddess queens up on their offers to 'be more than friends'. That is hard to explain folks. I know that hypnosis was used to prevent me from ever having any normal relationship with any woman ever in this lifetime, but who and what force really, and WHY, caused all this to happen to me back in the nineteen hundred sixties, is the age old TREK-ROCK question-equation, far bigger than a million E=MC squares all put together on steroids and antimatter drives.
Yes folks, we could look and probe a lot deeper tonight, but I would rather save all of this, as much more will be told in the next dozen or two dozen blogs, and this will all dovetail and commingle quite nicely together, so rather than type on now, this can do a James Rockford, and wait. None of you will ever know the power, the total fucking awesome unfathomably outlandish power, of knowing that one simple decision to act differently when women come onto me after days of death siege, can literally crash the global economy, turn the Dow Jones back down to three or four thousand points, and much much much mother fucking more. It is so beyond awesome, and only I know just how totally true and real this all is, you all think I am just a fucking nut case, but I know totally better. By the way, so does the powerful MAS and WO. Disbelieve that at your own risk of total extinction, as the dinosaurs doubted my words with the same fucking fervor folks, so bank on that TD-JOE!!!!!!!!!!
Let me wind this down now, without any boxium clothes or Haddonfield ladders, or newspaper boy angels. We don't need any of this, right Lightning, no-how, no-nothing????????????????
END TRANNY, me' sweet ol' landlubber granny, WHAAAAAAAAA!!
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