KING NEBNOOSHOO SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0341

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0341

DATFILE: 0221.906

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I saw a UFO this morning when I left my apartment building on 7^th Avenue and B here in Fort Pierce, around minutes shy of eleven, AM-EST. It was flying south over Route One at a total stall speed of 5 MPH. It appeared as a large helicopter only very very foreign. I have seen this craft many times before over the past nearly 26 years during my return from the Twilight Zone. As I type these words, my neighbor next door is making very strange sounds with his sound apparatus, until this moment he and all others around here have been dead quiet since I arrived home from my job just shy of four this afternoon. Remember that the term UFO merely stands for Unidentified flying Object. Everything in the sky is technically a UFO by this standard, by just about all folks except for the Air Traffic controllers and tp brass military personnel. The story here with the craft this morning is a little more complex however, than just me heading out towards my parked vehicle and this craft ahead of me, literally matching my walking speed. You see folks, last night or afternoon somewhere, a telephone call came in from a friend of mine, and we were talking, and in the conversation, I said something about walking outside my building tomorrow morning and someone with a high powered rifle living in an apartment on the south side, waiting for me, and blowing my brain out with their weapon. The total item being discussed that led up to this conversation is not anyone's freaking business, but I merely tell that this was indeed said, and then, this wild bizarre incident came to occur that very next morning after I indeed was heading towards my car. I did not realize this until after a good couple hours at my job. Then it hit me like lightning.

Extensive questioning and querying of the GAWNUM CARDS, revealed a powerful deal that is why this entire past holiday weekend was so bad with my WOMO enemies, and continuing right throughout today, Tuesday, with a major sky persecution of never ending unrelenting chemtrails and strange other flying crafts, as well as other outlandish strange crap happening all around me with the PAWM-PIE. It seems, the cat that resembles Gawky Gaukauk, is an imposter, sent here by whoever was in the UFO craft over route One this morning. He lied to me when I mind-channeled with him over the weekend about the great number of Gawnum root 23. I really somehow did not think Trump or Frank Kali had anything to do with things right now, why would they? But Bob Cheatley Patterson and his great warning to me back in 1984 about local municipal governments being every bit as deadly to you, when they are your enemy, as are governments on higher levels; proved to be a million freaking percent correct, with me up here in the future, as was with him back in the past. Whatever this future and that past really are, as if anyone can show me where the hell yesterday and tomorrow ever are hiding ion the shadows, I'll kiss their smelly butts in Macy's window on Christmas Eve in Manhattan, on every year for the freaking rest of my freaking life, folks. This deal with Bob and me was discussed multiple times on many prior previous and yes, extremely precious blogs of 'yesteryear'. He is burdened with his own set of secrets that would blow a dozen Mason Lodges apart, such as names of girlfriends that made him blow his top for no reason in the so-called real-world, and then there is the greatest Elvis Presley impersonator on the planet who he introduced me to, and there were terrific mighty reasons for his being the greatest impersonator in the world, very good reasons. His nickname of Spider however was the most powerful private code, cosmic or otherwise, in the entire package. He told me a powerful thing one time, early in 1985 somewhere, before I moved off of Highland Avenue in Cinnaminson, New Jersey, USAESMWG, to move into the Highview Complex of Williamstown, after residing at the 1406 home of the McLeod Laser Copying Systems. The secret bigger than weird unidentified aircraft's and all the RCP secrets all put together, is the secret of WILLIAMSTOWN, and my three residences there, and the effects that they all had on me, that are straight out of and beyond any science fiction I have ever heard about.

WILL-I-AM-ST-OWN is a word like MASON, and my mother whose name in maiden times was Grace Eastman Mason, second daughter and fourth child of Grace Isabelle Huntington, wife of my grandfather John Leonard Mason. My pal, the degreed MASON, who gave me my secret family lineage chart, charting me and HUNTINGTON, back to Scotland and MARY STUART the queen, and her roots from there directly back to Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, and then King David before that, a 6,000 year old secret, that it is not totally finished as Christianity lies about, on the cross. It seems that one person is the unlucky Morgan Collins of Dark Shadows, without any actual lots ever drawn, Gawky; and this person must carry this curse of humanity with them, until they die, then passing it on instantly to a young male child somewhere in the line, and they only come to know it when they have enough shit happen to them to kill an army of Marines, and then go onto survive without physically dying, after what should have killed them 1,000 times over. This has been going on in my freaking family now for almost 1980 years, the anniversary date is soon to come, and maybe is why these four digits are so magical to freaking me when in a group, and for more complicated reasons than time allows me to get intro tonight, the nine can also be substituted with the digit of 2. The year 1980 was when I moved into 1802 Robin Hill in Voorhees Township, in good old NJUSAESMWG; and this is when stuff all began to occur with me, that absolutely and totally invented the 'fan-hitting' expression we all have come to hear and love and laugh about. So let me get back to the discussion of Highview Apartments, and Williamstown, on Monroe Township, in Gloucester County, in New Jersey. I lived here during parts of 1979, 1980, 1985, 1986, 1994, 1995, and 1996. During these 7 partial year times of residence here in Williamstown, but not all at Highview, only one of these years did I live in Williamstown during the entire year from January first through the 31^st of December, and that would be the year of 1995. This is the year that just a couple of months after completing and copyrighting my book entitled, “The Permission Barrier”, my memories began to trickle in that a part of my childhood was actually missing, and it was more than urgent, it was infinitely life threatening for me not to get to the bottom of this situation. I just knew this, I do not know how or why, but I did, and that is that, Hicks, Whales, and yellow-blue skies of the McCoy clan, all notwithstanding, Mister Spock. Somebody went to major trouble to pull off major stuff to bring me to this opoint. Then I get to this point and things progress in unfathomable and unbloggable ways, only to seemingly lweave me trusting with blind faith, in this magical goddess of mine. Well, I don't trust her. Simply put, for my record and safe journal, she is the ultimate game player, and I wish her eternal happiness and bliss, but I refuse to play any longer, I am giving and filing my notice of taking my ball, and leaving the playing field. I am done. Still, WILLIAMSTOWN needs to be understood right now a little better. We can always talk in more detail about TYPE-3 Exploratrons or Atlantic City, or so many other wonderfyul happy things, TEE HEE HEE Lilly Munster Shipyards Andrews; but for right now, we will focus on my Masonic late pal, David who croaked in his 'sleep' on the very same night that my mom croaked in her sleep, only tywo years later than she did, his time was 2002. His best friend in his younger days, became a systems analyst and went onto do great things, his name is well recognized, Will MacAfee. I AM THAT I AM, well, Jehovah's mighty words, not mine, but it does seem that internet and the computer, and MacAfee are all tied together in some wild ass cosmic numeration in the worlds of the subatomic, Mister hawking. So now we are up to what, oh yeah, WILL-I-AM. The final letters that make up this town's name, STOWN, is a symbolic symbol of unmissable power and value, ST is for Jehovah's Astral Plane converted name of STACEY in the Earth English waking world language, from the NEE and STA being the same thing Astral to Physical, and the SEE is the same as both VAH as well as other secret Astral Plane conversions, that first all work into a secret code that protected ancient IS-REAL (Israel) from enemies, and just as codes during a war, throw off an enemy, a language a long time ago was created and come to be known as Aramaic. Now we are up to WII-I-AM-ST, and any snotty little nose picking child can see that this great All Powerful entity, OWNS this cosmos, so now we add the word OWN, and there is just no way that anyone ever will convince me in a trillion years, that some powerful and totally cool abnd awesome code is not symbolically here showing me that my life was powerfully altered each time I moved into as well as each time I departed, WILL-I-AM-ST-OWN. You go, Sarah (Lordess) Stacey (Neecee) Jehovah of the great All Powerful Krassle family of the ASTRAL-PLANE.

As for the UFO MILI-2-FORCE around me, the heavy presence lately is obvious. I am not obeying the great SSJKK, she wants me to play all kinds of special games with Her, and I am not going to play any more, I am all done, washed up, through, and finished, kaput. Ever since the first week in June of the year of 1980 with the great song that SHE sang to me in my “SLEEP”, called, “LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS”, this has turned my life literally upside down, inside out, all around, and all about, as Lightning would say, in HER human form, just after this happened, if you want to make a big deal out of the chronological order involved, folks. I see the illusions for what they are of course, my friends and fiends. As for the crafts in the sky, they will make some real super YOU-TUBE post ups, and a lovely giant girl at my job, Marie, put me onto where I can get a nice cheap cellphone without any activation service, yet it will serve me as an instant sky recorder and picture taker, not in stills but just as good as the old camcorders did, only instead of mediocre quality and the weight of millstone, a tiny little rectangle box can be in my pocket at all times, so keep this all conming WOMO, as when I have the video proof, not taken to paid off police and politicians, but all posted up to my account on the mother fucking YT, then, you will be very fucking ass sorry, and there is absoluting nothing you or Moneyless Kate can do to stop me from fighting you back with your own fucking high technology, NOTHING scream it out Diana, and don't tell me it's not he, you cock sucking liars!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was a fucking recording engineer in the early nineteen-eighties YO.

Yes, plans were made to interfere with what I had planned. Well, it won't work, because my shit is real, it is true, it all happened, and it is legitimate for me to post and tell, so there, mother fuckers.

Let me bid you all a fond farewell and ado. I can no longer stay with you. I will hang my heart on a weeping willow tree, and there my true love hangs with me. TEE HEE. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, Sigma-KI. Does the moonlight beam on the girl of your dreams, or has my 102 year old waltz been lost by the great United States Library of the freaking Congress? Nite-nite. I'll be watching, recording, and posting, Tracy Richards, you and your little friend can do the printing. It is all a bunch of parlor tricks folks, and I am not playying along any more, HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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