SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0327
WORLD LABS DATFILE:
CH-0327-012812.909
COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
© 2006-2012
THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION
THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AMD ME
MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES
BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:
“8 MOTHER FUCKING DAYS OF CHEMTRAIL SIEGE”
W-H-E-R-E----I-S---T-H-E---Y-O-U**T-U-B-E
S-K-Y---W-I-T-N-E-S-S, A-N-D---O-T-H-E-R---V-I-D-E-O
C-A-M---W-A-T-C-H-E-R-S, Y-O-U---N-E-E-D---T-O
G-E-T---T-O---F-O-R-T---P-I-E-R-C-E---F-L-O-R-I-D-A, **YO**.
START BLOG:
Well peeps, it was last Saturday that my blogs told How some nasty vicious TIMETUBES were all around and menacing, while out with my computer guru, Meagan. Since then, it has continued from this past Saturday, and with this Saturday, making this an eight mother fucking day death siege by sky that is persisting in its absolute and unrelenting pummeling of this Southeastern-Central Florida, area, here in the USAESMWG. Count the eight days for yourself, old late pal John Lennon, as soon for us both, ITS GONNA' B2 FRERAKING ASS LATE, CHOKE-CHOKE-CHOKE.
SATURDAY
SUNDAY
MONDAY
TUESDAY
WEDNESDAY
THURSDAY
FRIDAY
SATURDAY----------------------DUH FOLKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Why major fucking PUSSY-COMMAND has not kicked in, is anybody's guess, but it cannot be procrastinated nor prolonged endlessly. Eventually, things will break, and some gorgeous breath taking young giant goddess is gonna' start climbing all over me, this is not bragging, I merely tell what parallel truths, have indeed been on going around me since the eighties ended, and I began noticing that girls were attracted by me in supernatural and rationality-defying degrees. The only problem so far is that every single time this happens and goddesses do in fact come on to me, literally throwing themselves at me; I run away, don't I; MIZZ ZENKISS-1970-HADDONFIELD, NEW JERSEY? Where the fuck are you when I need you, DAVID LEIGH SMITH, of the great of New Jersey historic town of king George, highways and highway robbery taxes and all, YO?
Now we have some bigger problems, if imagining this is remotely possible to do folks; than the chemtrails/timetubes. Think of Clark Kent and Superman when I say CHEMTRAILS/TIMETUBES. As time and more blogs follow, I will get real non subtly specific as to just what I am talking about, but the blog tonight is gonna; get that way on some mother more pressing matters that have to fucking do with right now and the very near term time circa.
I went to bed around ten in the morning on Friday, as remember, Friday is an off day with my working schedule; and slept about 3.5 hours, waking up with a bang that noise had nothing to do with. This was a very unpleasant sleep that led me to not remember too much about the events of the day yesterday, other than doing a blog that I have no memory of doing, and also, why I said some of those things, totally eludes me. I have no idea why Haddonwood closed down, and it almost seems as if some body snatcher tried to demonically possess me and take me over, or maybe the more apt word would be, I was overtaken by asn exploratron, and the one who comes most to mind for me is good old Paula Belinda King, of Atlantic mother fucking City, in New cunt lapping Jersey, peeps. I want, no scratch the word want, I feel the total freaking need, I mean I am 100% compelled to tell you this powerful DREAMINGH INTERACTION that took place somewhere late and towards the final period of these three and a half hours of a very light and uneasy sleep, yesterday. I was standing on Pierce Avenue in Camden, New Jersey, about four blocks north of the sound recording studio where I was employed from late July of 1979 through middle March of 1981, and the house in front of me was beige color, and it was around early afternoon in the late springtime of this year, in 2012. I remember hearing two peeps walking down the street and mentioning how they thought something, I forget now what it was, was going to happen in the neighborhood by this time in May of 2012. The sun was warm and very bright, there was not a puff of cloud material, or jet crap, in the sky at first, and then out of nowhere, dozens of these jets were up there and altering the sky, and filling it up in just a few quick minutes with horrible frightening ugly chemical jet vapor trails, AKA folks, as (CHEMTRAILS). The fear in the DREAMING EXPERIENCE was beyond any fear that I have known while in this universe/reality where I now appear to be awake abnd typing this blog, and some physicists call it, this particular atomic signature in hyperspace. Suddenly I realized that I was not alone, but that several peeps were with me at this place. We remained outside on the sidewalk, a few cars passing by but not often, like it was a holiday or the road was semi-closed, as I remember Pierce Avenue from my employment days at the RPL recording studio, and traffic may not have been highway-like, but it was not conducive for a lot of tiny children to be playing Hopscotch Games in it either.
I'll get back to this, I had to shut down and deal with a satellite death attack on my health, or a TIMETUBE ATTACK, I do not know exactly which does what and when, nor do I have clue point oh one as to why, only that I'm suffering through this horrendous deplorable unconscionable monstrous fucking attack at the hands of this twisted fucking diseased MILI-2-FORCE-WOMO BOHEMIAN DIRT BAGS WITH EGOS LARGER THAN THE MWG TIMES TEN TO 55TH EXPONENT. So now that the major diarrhea attack is over, and I'm back at my computer doing this word-dock, at 957 millidays, or just past eleven at night, on the great southeastern coast of the continental United States; let me resume telling the blog-world of cybentities Poor Richard Franklin of post 1790; great lovely sun-rooms, and all other such things notwithstanding; and we left off, or really, I did; with the house on Pierce Avenue about four blocks north of the recording studio where I was employed as a Sound engineer, or really a Tape-Duplicator, but if dudes who pick up maggot filled bags of stench all morning can be Sanitation engineers, then this indeed opens up the door for permitting me this title, and may I brag that the best sound man in the entire RIAA taught me well, and I have been complimented by industry giants throughout the years on my ability to record sound, especially with bargain basement apparatus, compared with what most of them have to work with, but back on point here, YO; and I came to realize in this powerful dreaming-interaction or hyperspace-travel with all of my memories in tact; that several other folks were with me there. None of us belonged in or to the house, yet we were there, outside of it and off of the property, legally standing on the sidewalk as well as out in the street, switching back and forth. Suddenly, a person exited who looked familiar, but the dream-memory is too shady for an accurate descriptive recall, but this was a middle aged man who was fairly nicely dressed for a home in the hoods of Camden, New Jersey, and he placed three open reel tapes on top of the garbage can that belonged to the home, outside in-between the sidewalk and the street, where cans in cities and towns normally are indeed placed. As we approached the garbage can, myself and two or three other peeps; the name “Robert Carey” was clearly printed in large bold letters on stickers, on each of these three open-reel tapes, with size 7 reels, as there are the 3, the 5, the 7, and the 12, if memory from the early eighties is serving me at all here, with accuracy. I took these tapes and placed them into some type of an upper shelve in the backpack that was worn by one of the peeps who was with me. It seems now looking back on it, that we were all sort of waiting for this man to put these three tapes there, abnd then we were right there and ready to grab them and get out of there. As we began walking down the street in a totally different direction, and turning off Pierce and onto one of the intersecting roads heading east towards Federal Street, not that far from where I used to fly small rockets in the local park with old John Henningsen back in the middle-late nineteen-sixties. However, the only thing flying here, were those horrific high air jets, spewing out gobs and gobs of countless curvy and linear messy filthy CHEMTRAILS. If you are stumbling onto this blog and do not know what is being referred to, you need to GOOGLE this up, as well as go up on the YOU-TUBE site, and search this topic, it is all over everywhere, just about matching the chemtrails themselves now, pound for pound and buck for buck. If nothing else since late 1987, at least I got this world talking and watching and wondering. So anyway, in this incredible wild dreaming-interaction in a parallel universe where my awake body was here in my bed, and my dream-body was free to explore the hyperspace; this chemtrailing gr4ew worse and worse, you could actually physically feel the oppressive force of so many of these concentrated jet trails being literally pumped all around us as fast as the speed of light or so it sure appeared to us who were having this outlandish ass experience. Then one of the jets did something never ever tried to my knowledge in this universe where my physical body is awake and typing this message to any interested parties. It had some way of directing these trails at a high speed. They all began to fly around, some merging, others splitting up, and they were dancing almost as if to some party music beat. I was losing my sanity, and fell to the ground crying like a baby. Then I could barely breath, and began coughing uncontrollably, where you cannot fully intake a new breath before you need to cough out the poisons again, sounding like someone with that old disease rarely heard about any longer, by the name of Whooping Cough. Shortly around the time that my mother had her abduction and memory loss experience in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in the early nineteen-nineties, she was on a bus that went from where we lived in New Jersey, to where she worked in an office over in Philadelphia; and she told me and described in great detail, how she had experienced this very same frightening breath taking series of cough-attacks. I have been getting them in the 21st century as well, as a result of all of these poisonous vapor CHEMTRAILS. DO ANY OF YOU GET THIS, PLEASE COMMENT??? We need to take this to the fucking AMA folks, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now getting back to telling the 'dream', after we all got perhaps a five minute walk away from the house where it seemed to all start, and the sky was literally racing around with deadly fumes and horizon to horizon trailing, at almost a time-lapsed photographic speed, and when I was able to stand up and stop coughing, I noticed that my friends around me were all dead, and maggots were all ready eating them up. I began at this point to totally lose it, and uncontrollably jumped up and down like the folks on the PRICE IS RIGHT television show, only instead of in happiness, I was screaming at the top of my lungs about injustice, criminality, murderers, and half screaming/half crying the words over and over again, “This shit has to be stopped”. All I remember after that was a short quick burst of being up in the sky and touching the end of a very scarey looking chemtrail, and the next thing I was aware of, was being back here in Florida and back in January again, roughly 120 days or so back in time from where I had been. I let go of the trail and floated slowly through the ceiling of the place where I work through the AARP PROGRAM and the OBAM STIMULUS SYSTEM, only in this other parallel reality universe, the place was quite different, and one of the aisles connected directly into a private room, that over here where I am typing and awake, is a thrift store inside of this larger surrounding store, called the Kingdom Harvest, and the website where anyone can access this place is, www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ . Go there, and then click on the part that says, “STORIES”; and then my photo will pop up. They misspelled my name on it and spell it as MARC, it is really MARK. Still, my kid knows my Einstein hair, and IMHO in 2008, used this to get my attention, and it worked. I did not work at Harvest in 2008, but my blog photo on the old BLOGGER blogs before the continuation hacked one; shows my photo that resembles the one on the HARVEST WEBSITE, of me. I had totally forgotten about another hyperspace travel and a banquet that took place there in July of 2010, but my kid was there and was showing me all kinds of various foods that I needed to take over and place at various spots along a rectangular table. I had no way of knowing about this table in middle July of 2010 and had only started at this job on the 8th of June, about 33 days before, yet much later, over here in waking life, I came to see this table was indeed there, only in a different location in the building. Dreams within dreams or even remembering other so-called 'dreams' while dreaming, proves a lot more is happening in these experiences than just what doctors and present day labs mistakenly believe in their dark age sheer ignorance. In fact, a videotape was playing and somebody told me to sit down and watch it, yet it was connected to the public aisle. I did what I was told, and when the video tape began, it reminded me about the banquet, and told that a dude named David from Suffolk county, New York, would be sent shortly to work with me, and become my boss, and would then go on to treat me horrendously to get me to quit, or be fired. Nick sent him, according to this videotape. Well, I cannot prove this, but right after he had just about done me in, back around early middish April of last year in 2011, I believe that my wonderful kid stepped in and told Nicky to call him and stop it or else. Nobody says no yo MI, nobody. The problem with all of this is called HYPERSPACE EFFECT. Things are all happebning in a much larger picture-arena, the 5th dimension or the entire hyperspace, a space that contains countless parallel universes, many similar ot our own here, many quite different, but so many that there is almost no usable number to describe it. The really close similar ones or the localized-hyperspace so to speak, (LHS) has effects that work to commingle and combine stuff, or in other plainer words and terms, if certain things happen in several universes that are similar to this one, only in this one, they are not, the effects eventually will be forced to bleed into here, in one way or another, not exactly but similarly, as more and more things keep happening in the other similar ones. It is sort of like asking you to picture a scenario of water seeking its own level, only 5th dimensionally, move over Doctor Coral Sagan. When I tried telling poor David Charles Roth about these type of things in the Warren grove, New Jersey military War-Games area of the jersey pine Forests, he put a back end limit on his willing involvement, thinking it was no more than a child creating imaginary friends. If he could have had the background in math and Quantum Dynamics, and then with the strange privilege of hanging with me and messing with my life story and all of this stuff, that he had in subjects such as history, music, and automobiles, his three super babies; then and only then could we have teamed up, and done things that WOULD HAVE changed this entire world. For one thing, none of what you think is so real around you all, in this strange 2012 time era; was ever meant to be here. We could have set things back to where it was more slanted and meant to evolve into. Call this the height of ego and huberous, but I dare to make this claim, because I can make it, because, I KNOW. Move over Mizz New-Nun Whoopee Goldberg Blowlights. No, there is no way that my wonderful kid did not help me get rid of monster David, thank you so very very much. You are so beyond my fave daughter, brown eyes. Then adding up 2+2 just the same amount of days later that I spent in 1970 in Ventnor, 2 and 2, weeks and days that is; and then came your second wonderful thing that you did for me. Just let me know if I can ever do anything at all for you, I'll never ever let you down. You make a great boss and a great cop, by the way. To end the dream story folks, two dreams came into one, and the banquet dream sort of fell inside the dream where it all started or seemed to anyway, up near my old recording studio job, RPL. In the waking world, I had totally forgotten about the 2010 summer time 'banquet dreaming interaction at my job', that is until it merged into this one on early Friday afternoon. I did not go outside after getting up that day, but chemtrails were horrible. When I bought some Breyers Ice Cream today at the Winn Dixie Grocery Store, they were off the scales monster ass bad. Chemtrails do more than anyone presently knows about, let me try and tie a few real powerhouse secrets all together so that at your perusal folks, you just examine these words, and then cogitate on stuff and truths will become self evident in time.
First, Pope Benedict the Sixteenth is a great wonderful and very open-minded Pope. He is not like any other Pope in the history of my church. One family was planned to be the contact point from time to time, with the most powerful god on the Astral plane, and us Earthlings living awake here on the Earth. Today,. We go by HUNTINGTON. These are my cousins and they are scattered all over the planet. Still, these nearly seven years of blogs tells a story that not 100 Einstein genius minds could ever intentionally fake. The story moves along and contains a life of its own, unlike say the books that are written from a predetermined set of notes, even the great works of King and Patterson, and all the rest, my story lives, it has no start, no end, it is not coming from inside a time realm, and thus trying to tell it inside one, makes it just about as difficult as enjoying a vacation in HELL. When the Pope in the year 2008, decided to come around and see what was going on, covertly of course, he shortly thereafter published something the world over, that many believed would lead to the ruination of the entire church structure, but it did not, because man is flawed, not the gods. My own very special daughter recognized what Bruce Pennock was speaking about back when she was only a toddler, that indeed it is the flaw of space-time built into its own self that causes the human material realm and those living fleshly in it, to be in fact flawed. You cannot be otherwise, and those saying otherwise are total liars. The proof of avoiding as many flaws as is 'humanly' possible, is to take what we see in cosmos, and then use this example in every single smaller structure from there, down to the crap we cannot even see with the most powerful lab microscopes. The one thing besides light that remains constant in cosmos, is balance. All we ever hear when the word C or Constant or the velocity of light photons in a vacuum, is that this is the universal constant. Well, there really are honestly two of them, C and B. No jokes Lenny, no radios, no 601 handles, no PA buildings, no sir, let us keep this real serious folks. The second constantly operating part of cosmos ios BALANCE. Everything is in a perfect non flawed balance. When and if something falls out of it through the now known ST fabric of this cosmos, really STM; then the flaw results in a relatively quick extermination of this imbalance. Balance is always achieved by the continual process of things moving out of it continuously and then immediately re-compensating and moving back into it, the greatest example of this being the pendulum. Anything we need to know better, can therefore be achieved by seeking universal balance in that particular item being wondered about. Sure enough, the answer as all detectives will tell us, is just about always if not always, the most obvious one and is she shortest distance between any distant points in and of any speculations. An instant example that comes to mind is the endless raging debate between scientific and religious communities. No matter who likes this sentence or not, the cosmos screams out the one and only one answer here, the obvious one, the shortest one, and the balanced one. The truth, as the mighty Jim Garrigan told me back in 1970 in Haddonfield, NJUSAESMWG; is always somewhere in the middle. Pendulums will never hold a polarity, they endlessly seek to balance at central parity, these are constants every bit as real and huge as the speed of photons in a total vacuum. Take playing detective now. Hay, maybe I missed my freaking calling folks, who knows, but let's just examine something really wild and cool here for a quick second, OK John King. Anyone can GOOGLE thios, it is not sanitized over, not yet anyway. I am talking about somebody, only he or whatever, knows, and knows what he/she is really up to, but let us closely examine “DJ-DONNA SUMMER”. This, pun intended, might get a bit hairy, and in the morning, in the AM, when it is light and matters, Auntie. Now first we have this whoever it really is entity up on the internet and all over the You Tube, and this could have been any one of a million other things with just as much or even more current name recognition, if all this is really about is helping climb the Google-Ranking-System. Many know that after 100,000 hits, Google pays peeps to place ads on their site. Also, if everybody is higher ranked than we are, then nobody is looking at our pages, our websites, our posts, our blogs, and so have you. Now, this could just as easily have been DJ-M&M, or DJ-Rapper big 7, and on and on, but this other name was picked. Now, taking this further, he could have put up a page on anybody or anything. But in the middle twenty-ohs, he put up a page about two so-called nut cases, 'me' and Synthesizer 'Goddam-it Bruce'. He even somehow got a record company selling my stolen tape from friendly Ice Cream Store and Compufone ® ripoff messages, named Aquarius, to sell this stuff. This record company is the name of an astrological sign that has a major connection to the very first secretly done album in Munich, Germany, by a teenaged girl named Donna Gaines,who shortly thereafter married a dude named Somer, and then she changed her stage name to read DONNA SUMMER. This HAIR album, contained the famous Broadway musical in Manhattan, HAIR SHOW, song, AQUARIUS. Anyone who cannot see that things in this cosmos do not happen like this by some random sheer chance accident, is deluded and pathetic. Then there is the PCN of the McDonald's commercial poker hand-963, matching many powerful things, one such thing being, “Ten-Thousand-Dollars”. This rumor has grown a lot of moss and grass for a lot of years. I only lost one cassette tape. If Joe wants to make other bets, and lose, fine, but until I get to the bottom of what the © Office did to my two dance tunes, I am smart enough to know better than to bet anyone anything on that. I have witnesses that I wrote and indeed did copyright these two dance tunes in 1980, originally sent on open reel tape. Still, we can always play James Rockford and his files, and the nineteen-seventies, and get back to all of these loose teeth and other agonizing Keisha punches.
Branch-Codes in the great GAWNUM have been talked about, and will be again reiterated on soon, just not tonight. Many powerful recent things have been put together for compatibility study, with the GAGA-NU. Well, baby talk, Cindy Lisping Brady, Rock Stars, Atlantic City Property Owners, and Mathematical genius kitty cats; all notwithstanding here folks, I need to bring this to a close for tonight. It is late, and I need eat a late night snack, watch a little TV, and crash. BYE-BYE, oh, but before I do go, I have no idea what happened to me yesterday. I just remember the day as a fog. When I awoke today and went up to the blog sites where I post and read what I wrote, I did a LOBO and a Ben Stone-L&O, and fell right off my chair. In any event, I am OK, and there is no need to worry about me, BEACH BOYS, or BEACH BITCHES. How I miss Atlantic City and all that horrible punishment, gimme' a break there Elmer Fwudd, SHEEEEEEEIT.
Just how far did the All Mighty Goddess, SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE KRASSLE really go with me since she came here in 1896, Mister Smith, either one of you, David or Joe? Well, remember that for the Earthly sake of the GAWNUM, I was born in the English speaking United States, in Bryn Mawr, Montgomery County, in the state of Pennsylvania, at about 9:30 AM, on the 4th day of December, in the year of 1954, so my name-number is based on MARKMOHR, and SSJKK's name-number is based on SARAHKRASSLE. The Holy Scriptures talk about the name-number and tell how Apollo-Lucifer or the now-SATAN, has the name-number of 666. It is so strange how Doghouse Boy lived for some time out on Thirty-Sixth Avenue, because if you take the numbers from 1, 2, 3, 4, and go all the way to number 36, guess what name-number we get, wow, gee, could it really be 666? I am so shocked and surprised, maybe they will play “our song” right Donna, you know, on the radio? Hopefully, they won't. I have been trying so hard to forget, and just never seem to be able to. Darn, this lovely HUNTINGTON CURSE is so much fun. Gee, I'm having such a wonderful life, mister STUART HUNTINGTON CARPENTER, should I try and Jimmy this thing a little bit, or just leave it alone and do a hell of a lot of fucking praying folks?
Maybe Ronald and Vandegrift just had to go and DUKE it out, because of the shooting of PEE-JR HAZARD, huh GOVERNOR? Still, the many days of my life tell me and all of the xenon radiation as well; that 'FOUR ACES AND ONE FIVE OF HEARTS' is equal GAWNUMLY to PCN-880. Play that music, MI wonderful lovely MI. Still, their combination hand that aired on TV right after I posted my poker hand dreaming interaction, comes as you know if you do the freaking math, to PCN-963. Also, 36th Avenue comes to PCN-853. These two PCN are two out of the 81 possible ones that are so powerful, and are the same as so much major stuff in my personal life that I could talk on and on all night long and into the next year, and not start to cover it all, so nighty night, folks, WHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You have a real gift there President Obama, I'm playing with your printed digital sample, and you should hear yourself doing the Congressman's song, “Long river blues”. Rock on sir, you've got my vote for what that's worth.
END TRANSMISSION:
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