Posting at 9:40 AM, August 3, 2023, Thursday
I NEVER ESCAPED CAPTAIN PICARD'S HELL BOX IN 2301
CHAPTER 16
JWSC-THU-11-226
Saturday, January 14, 2012
SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0297
SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0297
SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY
START OF BLOG:
I only wish that I was still keeping a taped life journal, but this first sentence will totally perfectly dovetail and round robin itself with all of the rest of this blog. I am not, and that is the facts. Saying the family from the north is the culprit is no longer some kind of constant after today, as today was a day of super revelation. What caused it was a combination of things viewed on cable television, and the detective mindset that I have come to develop in the past decade or so resulting from the most incredible life and situations imaginable. I could end all of MORIANITY, and not care about blogging, just using the word document as my journal, but I have come this far, and until this project has ended, I may as well plug on as usual; at least for the time being.
Ann King was not lying about cousin Paula and the concert and the military, and along these lines. The problem is that Ann was not talking about a few years back, but more than half a century now. I must be very discreet and subtle, and only I will absolutely understand this blog, well, and “THEM”. I had started thinking that the family was the problem, and that the island incident as a youth was quite separate. Now I can see that a major miscalculation was made. Still, even with new revelations, I am not at a place yet, and maybe never will be; where I can know for certain or even near to certain; whether this is happening on a quantum level only, and then just filtering down to the post atomic sized worlds and realms that I can know and interact with; or and just as equally potentially possible, is that 'God All Mighty' has chosen to do all of this, and quantum physics exists as a mere illusion to the realer truths; just as Jim Burr implied long ago in the nineteen seventies and eighties, when he spoke his famous words of the supernatural world being behind 'magnetics', and not the other way around, as I believed. Ever since 2007 turned into 2008, I came to see that I had been blocking out from my life, a lot more than just Sarah from Tennessee Avenue, in Atlantic City. Most people would say it is all totally normal to take what appears to be silly little things from either childhood or teen life, and push them forever into distant or consciously forgotten memory as adult life swings into beingness. This would be true in many or most cases. Certain things however proved that in my case, there was too much smoke involved in these shadows of my past, to permit them to remain endlessly shut out of the rest of my current lifetime, and the first real big one was in early June of 1980, and this of course being going to sleep and having the most powerful dreaming experience imaginable, where the song, “Love Is For Carpenters” first was sung to me, in the space time continuum. Then we have six years later in the great sleepless city, then a decade after this, and then a dozen years after this; it just refused to go away. This is not me doing this, it is not my fault, and maybe it is not anyone doing this or anyone's fault; but whatever is playing out, it will not just go away. It is a run away freight train on fire, barreling down the mountainside, exploding, burning; and with totally broken brakes. When I break it all down, even compressed for tonight, and coded and carefully covertly said and done, only myself and those involved in this, will know where I am now in my thinking, at this point in Jacobson Watergate time; my lovely Senators.
But alas, it ain't January the 14th in the year of 2012, but rather it is now, whatever NOW truly honestly is peeps; the 3rd day in August of 2023, and yesterday the 2nd of August, if this had been the year of 1996 where I was in my final month of the great ever 2-B lived at by the Mountainpen 'HIGHVIEW APARTMENTS of WILL-I-AM-ST-OWN, NJUSAESMWG; would have been just about the WORST AND MOST DISASTROUS FLUCKING DAY OF ME' ENTIRE LIFE, WHICH BACK THEN WAS BARELY MORE THAN 4 DECADES LONG, 'HUMANLY' that is, YO great awesome peeps out there! 8/2/1996 was one of those absolutely 'standoutable' days of the poor pitiful NON-RONSTADT SIR MOUNTAINPEN one of the absolute worst days in me' human present-me memory of caporial and tangible 'material' non-Amy Cooley existence!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUTTTTTTTT, big ass BUTT and but and no BUTTERCHEESE whatsoever involved in the mix here folks, forgetting terrorist threats made 2 my poor elderly mom, stalker followers right out of television shows such as Mannix and Rockford Files, fantastically surreal transdimensional cities in New Jersey named when abbreviated as EHC, mind busting “non-devil musical” tunes and lyrics about incredible and inconceivable goddess-beings from my past, and so much more that words can absolutely do no justice here 4 me whatsoever; let me tie in the date of yesterday, both then in 1996 as well as gee, how many years later, lovely LIGHTNING GOLDEN NUGGET ROULETTE TABLE STRIKING MAGICAL NUMBER DREAMS!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, we R absolutely naught imagining how that incredible number of '27' is so endlessly a part of this blog-project known as MORIANITY, huh wonderful illustrious peeps out here, YO?????? 27 years ago yesterday, and WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW- MACY GANG; what a party, what a family, what a goddess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We truly need go no further, and I won't lie folks. I expected the roof 2 cave in on me yesterday, only naught only did it naught, but the markets suffered a wee bit also, so whatever is happening around me, and whatever is GOING 1980 JOE SIVO 'DOWN' HERE BRAH; I can state that the day was a 'nice midland three-three', and completely unexpected, after what had occurred 27 years ago in that terror day of music and so much more of hyperspace disaster, back in good-ole' '96, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!!!!!!!!!! BOY OH BOY OH BOY, UNCLE BILLY, FRANK CAPRA's GREAT OLE' MOVIES, such as “It's A Wonderful Life”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One thing still rings totally true here, and that is, my life does naught, nor most likely ever ever ever ever ever ever will, correspond 2 the title of that fantastic Hollywood movie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dave Roth told me in those times from 27 years back, with quite consistent regularity, “Mark, you've effing opened up a real hornet's nest”! The man spoke many powerful truths and stuff, but that was most likely the absolute, yes sir oh wonderful Senator Sanders; “HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGEST” of them all, YO BRRRRRR!!! Speaking of the Macy Club, it is quite another interesting if naught absolutely totally fascinating 'SAFET'-deal, when we examine the three names on that Macy Club docket from early on in this 21st century as well as opening 3rd millennium. Both Trump and MC have the PCN #231, and then Mizz Stewart's first or 'Christian' name needs only the teeny tiniest scrambling in order 2 become MC's first or 'Christian' name. SAFET is a tool that in today's psych industry means and codes out as sicko, wacko, magical thinking deluded nut case whack job, and so on. BUTTTTTTTT and BUTTERCHEESE and big ass BUTT and but you peeps, it is naught that at all, and many of U know it only 2 damn ass well!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SAFET=SEEK AND FIND EXPANSION TECHNIQUES, remember???
In the middle of October, twelve years ago, Sheriff Mascara sir; my friend Ed and I, went to a library in Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey, one afternoon. I posted up a blog from a computer there, saying that he and I were coming down now, to Tennessee Avenue. This was the day where that crime was committed on me by Robert McGuire; oh kind Sheriff. Why is he allowed to destroy numerous automobiles that I drive? Why is Paula allowed to RAPE ME, TORTURE ME, TRY TO RUN ME DOWN IN STORE PARKING LOTS, and make my life an endless living hell, coming to me in nightmares and dreams, and singing her stupid garbage songs to me????????????? WHY? If I did these things, U would put me into prison for the rest of my life, Sheriff, AND YOU SHOULD!!!!
If there is a god and I serious freaking doubt it, Sheriff sir; you will make sure that my information goes to Sheriff, or Retired Sheriff Simons, of Camden County, up in New Jersey. Now sir, the Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office, has or might still have, as I am free to always keep hoping; a disc that proves that McGuire came up to my car that day in middle October somewhere back in 2006; but he stood right at the passenger front side window, with his angry fist all clenched up, and neither Ed Lynch, nor myself, EVER EVEN KNEW THAT HE WAS STANDING THERE. It was the damn video camera that picked it up. He somehow was able to remain absolutely invisible to us. Ed and I had parked totally legally on Tennessee Avenue, about twenty yards west and away from his hotel property, where any damn tourist is allowed to park for a short time and take pictures of anything public on that street, which is what Ed and I were doing for my website, back then, that was called the MORIANITY-FOUNDATION. This is now defunct since it was a pay-site, and I did not have the forty-five bucks to put it up again for a third year, in early 2009. BUTTTTTTTT this damn video slide-show, taken on Ed's computer-camera system; was confiscated by the Atlantic County Prosecutor's Office, after he was caught doing something illegal on the internet; another major story in and of itself, that I'll be glad someday to share with you, kind Sheriff Ken Mascara, sir!!!!!!! Right after this horrible day, my car engine went slower and slower, until one day shortly thereafter, it quit and died forever. That horrible dirt bag monster had put sand in the gas tank, when Ed and I went up to the boardwalk, as Ed wanted to buy a newspaper, and they have vending machines that sell papers, up on the boardwalk. Yes, right there where that monster Paula invaded my sleep at Robin Hill Apartment #1902, back in 1980; and sang her stupid 'LOIS FOCA' song to me!
ED, not short for education, but for Eddie 'Himacane', whose real actual surname was Lynch; was the downstairs neighbor to the King family of Hammonton, back in 2006. Both parties had recently moved into this rooming-house, that was operated and owned by our local town judge, the Honorable Frank Raso, that was just two blocks down a neighborhood street from the Hammonton Library, where I had been going to blog, when my blogs first began in early 2006. Nothing ever just happens, and this was all planned by the GREAT KING FAMILY, ALL ALONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The hackers keep trying to make me call them the 'great KIND family'. Yeah, real damn kind. They only totally devastated me, and wiped out my entire stinking rotten lousy ass life forever!!!
Ed and I. Yeah, Huntington, not Harrington, Mister Rod Serling!!!!!!!!!! This all goes so far beyond any possible coincidence; my kind folks and wonderful BLOGAUDIANS, that no words could ever hope to express it. If Paula hadn't done this to me back in 1980, I never would have copyrighted in 1981, that stupid LOIS-FOCA crap. No time travelers, no troubles, 'no nothing'. Oh yes, you tell them Mizz D. Ross. WOW all of this, JOANN-A.
Boy oh boy, and HO-HO-HO, Patty and Merry. I always wondered why Christmas was such an endless time for me to be ruthlessly, viciously, and relentlessly persecuted, by HALLS-FAWCES, AKA the WOMO-MILI-2-FAWCES?????????!!!!!!!!!! Then there was ten years ago back on Friday. Coming out of that incredible dream, while residing there with those horrible nightmare KINGS, at the judge's rental home at 65 Middle Road, in Hammonton-Berryville. WOW THIS, kind Sheriff, sir. Psychiatrists call the event that I had, a dreaming resurfacing of a repressed memory brought on by extreme clinical level stress factors, and other underlying psychosis. Hey, I've said it before, Treasure Coast Automobile RIP-OFFS, and I'm sure I'll be saying it again as well. “I'd like to see anyone of you in the entire world, suffer through all of this nightmare since leaving effing high school, and remaining one percent sane and alive”!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But yes, the wild dream where I was back on freaking Long Island with my damn snooty Uncle Heinz and the gang. The road trip up to the In-Law Cousin Myers Branch of the Huntington Family, and the whole damn nasty mess, that would have been so much better all damn ass left alone!!!!!!!!!!!! Then I had to always be taking Dawn-Marie King to her psychiatrists, just one block further west down on Tennessee Avenue, near the Atlantic Avenue intersection. Then there was that day with the Rent-A-Center place. That was a real damn doozie-whopper; huh old pal, President Obama? Boy oh boy do I miss you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! God dog it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes sir Mister President Obama, that was beyond a doozie-whopper, only this entire mess is absolutely way beyond that. Clinton and his pal Patterson, wanna' cut me a bwake here Mizz 1985 Margie Leo, willya' lovely girl coworker? U all know that Jimmy Patterson couldn't MAKE UP A STORY LIKE MORIANITY in a quadrillion tucking years, FURTHER PROVING THE ENTIRE MESS coming straight FROM DOGTOWN ITSELF!
END TRANSMISSION, OH GREAT PEOPLE.
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