SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0348, KING NEBNOOSHOO

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0348

4:34 PM-EST FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA,

TUESDAY AFTERNOON, NO AQUARIUMS OR SONGS,

28 FEBRUARY, TWO THOUSAND TWELVE

COPYRIGHT CLAIMED BY MICHAEL WAYNE

MOUNTAINPEN/MARK WAYNE MOHR/

MORIANITY-FOUNDATION-2/BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

© 2006-2012

 

BLOG OPENING:

 

I told the story of how the name SAFE JOURNAL came to be. It needs to be restated every hundred or maybe every fifty or even twenty-five blogs or so. I used to have a life-journal. It was more important than World War 3 that I be able to keep it and maintain it and review it, I was planning on carefully scrutinizing the year 1986 someday, but someone out there in or beyond the stars, knew this, did not want me to be able to ever do this, so they indeed stopped me from ever be3ing able to do this by getting me to become a blogger, through and via the son of a Corrections Officer, Mister Christopher Bennett, of Vineland, New Jersey. Chris taught me how to blog and what it was all about and told me that it would be perfect for my needs of telling a horrible tale to the world, and be able to accuse my wicked enemies directly. When I did this however, it led me to a family that is unspeakable, and to this day if I try and tell anyone anything, behind my back they are calling me crazy and delusional. Well, fine, nothing I can do about any of this, so I will pretend from now on that I am writing a powerful journal and letter, to myself, publicly accessible so as to keep the writings more safe from destruction, as this great family from the stars or beyond, wiped out any chance for me to ever have gone back into 1986 and figure out the great mysteries. Chase me up some stairs and laugh, right Lee? Hay, anyone can go to and access the website as follows, www.blogger.com/ and read my October 5^th, 2008 blogs, or any of the blogs before that, since I came back online after 70 days offline and after finally purchasing my own computer, at the Plageman Mullica Mobile Manor where I resided in the late spring time of 20-08 when hell squared, cubed, and went surreal. P, since I am seemingly unable to write my true story in a way that is plain and understandable, what would you charge me weekly to let me mail you a cassette tape each week, and then you blog it in your words, and sign my name to it, I would give you the passwords and codes and it would be my blog, only you would ghostwrite it, think about it, because after they have totally destroyed my entire life and think it is a big fat joke, I think some revenge is in order. Now do not get mad, please, PLEASE, but I need to tell a small thing that we talked about recently to make a gigantic point, do not worry, it will reveal nothing of pre-2012 stuff of you or me or us, etcetera, but it is vital that I make this point, it is not any offense against you or anyone, but it MAKES A MONSTER ASS SUPER POINT, MY FRIEND. So before I get into any of the specifics, let me tell myself, and any other interested Morianity fans, that a lot of shit has happened to me since I posted the last few blogs up during the major 10 day sky siege.

 

First, on Sunday night or early into Monday morning, enemies hacked illegally into my AT&T legal landline telephone service, and cut me off while I was talking to Roach Diana. If I am totally cut off from the world, then why do THEY cut me off to where I am dead as though I had not paid my bill in three months, even then, I believe a total cut off is illegal, I believe a federal law does not permit the cut off of calling emergency 911, for not being able to make financial payments, but in any case, a total cut off is not like taking the phone off-hook. After it disconnects from normal service, you still hear through the wiring, or the roach-system, as my pal-P said to me in 1998 jokingly when I lived at the Guthrie Short mansion of blue anchor, New Jersey. If you plug in two telephones, you can connect a tape recorder connected to headphones, next to the mic-speak side of the handle of the phone set, place a rubber band around the two to bind them together, and blare away anything you want into something, and the other telephone will pick it up loud and clear. If it really only went to the jack or wall, first off, lightning would not be able to click on this during a storm, as she does, and THEY wou8ld not be able to cut me off into dead nothingness where not even a side-tone is heard through the phone when speaking into the mic part. Playing my old taped Morianity, has caused sports events to happen in my favor, the Dow Jones to crash on many occasions, and so on and so forth, so yes, this EVIL EMPIRE does most definitely worry about my applied knowledge of what I have termed for more than three decades now, ELECTRONIC METAPHYSICS. It merely brings to real life, the fictional character of Silvia on the original Star Trek television show in the late nineteen-sixties, who could become a large black panther, oh well, Y NOT, Mister Haddonwood Antimatter Owner of 1995? I merely am joking because of his very coincidental last name, something that at the time back then, I did not give a second freaking thought to. None of this stuff was in my life at all, only finding a missing piece of my childhood was, and this did not really take root until late in 1995, and then literally flew into a parabolic increase as the months passed, and 1996 and 1997 came to be. Life is the quintessential irony, as on one hand I am too vague or outlandish in my speaking when telling my story, as said by folks like P, and then my daughter tells me that I need to be way more subtle and tell things so only a very few in the  know peeps really know what is being said, so I am really trapped in that proverbial rock and hard place, just as Scylla said a million years ago while in her original persona of the first ‘rock’ singer, as she loved to sit on the rocks and play her magical instruments, and her beautiful beyond worldly voice  caused sailors to draw too close to the shore and crash their vessels on the rocks, this is an historical fact, not a ranting of Mountainpen, myth or not, as with the gods, science folks from the Ancient Astronauts Theorists to many other groups, now use these mythical terminologies in accepted speech in documentary shows, one after another. Yeah, I was way ahead of you, was I not James Burr? So as the Copyright Office has known since 1984, late in the year, “Did you ever wonder why you didn’t die down at Camden high? Also sir, did you ever wonder why I was so far ahead of you, in so far as what I spoke about, and just in recent years, s now all over the real live world circuit, not just on science fiction shows, old pal?  This is all topic for millions of other future conversations, continuing on with it now would be both pointless and fruitless.

 

Moving on with persecution, where are you my old school chum, Robert McDowell, sir? I NEED YOU SIR AND BUDDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yesterday afternoon following the early morning telephone interference and illegal tapping and cutting me off, came the next round of UTILITY ATTACKING against me. I was watching “LAW & ORDER” on my Comcast lineup, Channel number 43 here at Fort Pierce, Florida; and suddenly for nor reason at all, the system changed to channel 44, a World New Channel. I instantly changed it back to continue a major quantum experiment, sort of a mix of my my theories and ideas along with those of Mister Ron Wirtz, in the nineties, in new Jersey, at the Camden County Prosecutor’s Office, across from Camden, City Hall, and not that far from the Tuesday afternoon aquariums, magic hypothetical daughters, and much much much more, YO.

 

Now today, Tuesday, there was no major skywriting from the 1989 Donna Summer Forrest WFMU magic skywriters Club, but there were white and gray helicopters and loud planes around all day at work abnd after, on the way home when I stopped at the bank to get my balance at the Automatic Teller Machine, (ATM). So today with major sky harassment, and the double bubble utility strike on me, first on the telephone just past midnight while I was talking to Diana or trying to, abnd then yesterday with the Comcast Cable bull-crap. I never told also, that my kitchen was messed with late last week, I think it was on Thursday night, I know it was around the time of the most powerful ten day siege I ever saw in my life except for maybe a few times total since this nightmare all began around me on the 15^th of August in 1986, the unfathomable focal point of this entire thing, whatever it all REALLY IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If I claimed to know the answers to this, MORIANITY would be the biggest hoax and the biggest freaking lie on Planet Earth.

 

Now it is time to drop the bomb shell of today, and like all things, most peeps reading it will not see the Jason from the trees, you have to admit a cool coincidence P, and this is not paranoia, I am making a joke only, but Jason is not the most popular name in the word, it is popular in this generation, but still, add up the Jason’s verses the John’s or the Pete’s, you know I’m right, I just think it is cool, as well, you know, your family lineage, just a little joke, don’t get mad, it is just interesting how cosmic freaking forces work, am I wrong, tell me sometime, and yes, I want to learn, and someday when I can use electronic mail, I will be the happiest dude on this ball of upchuck. So moving on from not seeing the forest from the trees, a powerful reality and one I ought to know, from here to the dam Empire State Building, President Coo-coo Nest Grant and descendant bosses, but yes, taking this onward, DUH; but this powerful reality is that illusion is unbelievable, and the Tallows-4-Star Trek show that began the entire Trekker Club in 1966, rightfully indeed was the proper opener for this short lived hit TV series that later when the spirit of the times was right, rekindled into a blazing Jason-fire, sorry, I cannot help myself, between Ziggy falling off jetty’s in Atlantic City in 1969 Brad old pal, my super cool kid sending me all kinds of messages in 2008, and her way super cool movie in late 2009, I cannot resist saying, that I guess it is time to post this up soon, and see if I can run upstairs without getting myself chased, and assaulted. Oh the wonderful Orange Avenue Greenline Motors across from the post office, my own invention, not green lines or lawns, post offices, not mail counts, but keep laughing Mister Longstair Marcucci. Say hi to your pals, the Beatles, whoever is left of them, old pal and educator, and yes sir, I know what I AM able to do at age fourteen, and have recently heard a powerful statement on the H-2 Channel, if this is not meant for me or that I am not part of whoever thought of that statement, then I will be a flying piece of hot urine, burning up in the atmosphere of Planet Jupiter. My point will now be spoken. P, you told me how you thought the blog that told my life story was the best work online I ever did. What went past you like a teenager in a Corvette automobile passing great Grannie Hoopenslither, was that time was totally reversed. The story was told from the second I bought my ice cream at the Winn Dixie Food Store, all the way back to the days when things got a foothold, at 1802 robin hill, with Goddess Scylla singing the song of “LOVE IS FOR CARPENTERS” to me in a powerful awesome “DREAM”. Yeah, dream, like medical buildings, throat specialists, and Judges, name Raso or Tombay. Gimme a frickin’ bwake, Vi-Queen-Midas. You know peeps, if you can rationally explain every part of my life, which even logician and mental giant Edward Himacane Lynch was not able to do and HE ADMITTED IT IN FRONT OF ANN KING AND ME, you still would come up both blank and short, trying to give me a rational explanation not only to what happened in early June of 1980 with that song sung to me while ‘asleep’ called for short ‘LOIS FOCA’, using the first two letters of each of the four words in the title of this song to make up an abbreviated name; but you also could not explain how this incredible young goddess did not only this, but all of things since then, in 1983, in 1986, in 1994, in 1996, in 1997, in 2001, and in 2008? Looking at this from a purely human perspective, how could a ten year old girl do all of this? The answer is of course as simple as a porridge of dog-shit. She couldn’t. Yet this all happened. Still, SHE made dam shore that the first letter and the last letter of her wonderful name would be right there on the original master open reel tape recording, of a song that I’ll live to regret ever writing back in the summer of 1986. How could a sixteen year old girl do this? The answer is of course, that she couldn’t. Yet again folks, this did all happen. Coincidence, you insist, oh yes, I must say all of this is a major random happenstance, or else the psychiatry books insist I am a wild psychotic with paranoid delusions growing out of my mother’s insects and Efisus Complex, or however these sikeadoole head doctors spell the word, it is all in the DSM-5, somewhere. So I take what I must, and move on, with a big box of tasty pizza in my hand, right Sharon Payne? Maybe you and Maureen McFadden were spies after-all? One thing is for certain. Doctor Garrigan was wrong and failed his thesis as a result, back in 1970 or around there somewhere, YO. Also, if I had not asked MMCF how many people she killed in her wild young teen episodes in espionage, it is doubtful I would be surviving today, without my disability check monthly. I know Dawn King tried and tried to get on this, and failed and failed, and she was a lot crazier than I will ever mother fucking be folks, whether you wanna’ believe this or not. Also, see how much you believe about all of this as March comes in like a lion, and goes charging on, right through a lot of high gates of the Callio/McGettigan waterworks of Atlantic City on the White Horse Potato Chip Pike!!!! P, all I can tell you is this. Please see how powerful what I am telling you is, as you have a chance to be told shit that no one else in this multiverse will ever tell you, not now or tomorrow or ever ever ever. My life to you made total sense, backwards. Help me do something now my friend. Tell me why. Just forget saying Nancy Reagan no or any of Pandora’s great boxes, and tell me this, YYYYYYY does my life make so much sense to you, in reverse???????????????? You have to admit, I’ve got a valid argument here, for telling you that a lot of illusion is going on, as well as major mind control. What scares the Jesus juices out of me however, is that the PAWM-PIE-ETTOS and other smaller yet still great tools of the LAMBRIGG CULT of the Astral Plane, are why nothing can ever work out for us. You say it is the odds, but I cannot believe it is just this, not when key critical shit happens wrong at every pivotal exact turn, and not for a year or ten, but for the both of us, totaling about 80 years now. If you can read my life backwards and tells me it makes more sense than all my attempts to tell it forward, well, I feet my point of question is made right there, abnd any further words of query would only serve to obscure, mask, and obfuscate things.

 

Closing things out here lads, lassies, and Lob Dogs, YO, my across the hall neighbors are in and out today and every day, boom, bing, bang, Monday night they had a loud little brat screaming and crying. Oh well, Donna summer taught me something a long time ago, she said that if you don’t like cats and dogs and kids, something must be wrong with you somewhere. How little you knew, Donna, you go girl, and take Jason Forrest and WFMU-Aquarius with you, please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TANKS.

 

Yes, this was another fucking horrible day for me folks. My AARP peeps took me to the woodshed late this morning, and WOMO got their usual mother fucking kick out of me rolling around injured, they love to strike me when I’m down, as all cowards do. Nothing new here going on folks, all old, and very ass boring, YO. As I was getting reamed on the phone at work by them, that is when the gray and white chopper struck me. You peeps are lower than whaleshit times ten to the power of a googalplex. 

 

Thank you so very much for visiting your hurt and dying little boy last night, my beautiful Diana Zudlecronessia Arteemis. You made lovely bright colors and gorgeous Delicious shapes and patterns all over the skies outside my crummy old windows. IWALU, even if Whitney throws me in the beach hole again. Yes, you were lovely then as well, over the ocean, my tall teen-queen lover!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You and I at the waterfalls forever, my ENDLESS LOVE.

 

BYE-BYE evil cruel ugly old world. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

 

BLOG CLOSING:

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0347 KING NEB

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0347

SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY

 

ENDLESS HELL IS NO ILLUSION, ONLY STM IS.

 

Peeps, I’ll now tell you a little secret about many things, by simply telling one thing, and allowing your minds to take you to where they take each one of you reading these words, as this is all based on your individual levels of understanding and enlightenment of truth. It is why the first winter down here in Florida for me was the coldest on record, and why these types of things occur around me since I was knee high to a snake, without change. It’s as constant for me as the speed of light.

 

There are unlimited various ways that each one of us, rich, poor, short, tall, fat, thin, ugly, pretty, whatever and whatever, as so called worldly power is not always needed to pull this off; and this item I speak of is quite simply put folks, changing natural rhythms, or some other ways of putting it in different groups of words could go, interfering with natural place, or we can agree when this is all said and done with perhaps this grouping of words, being a real piercing son of a McCoy bitch. A little levity is not always wrong, although I personally could never make fun of a nightmare as horrendous as the SC tags that happened to someone who many know who this is. Now getting back on point with this major thing that is being done all over the world, and there is nothing way out or sci-fi about it either, nor as I stated earlier, does it require mighty worldly power and wealth to pull off. Two paragraphs away begins this incredible tale, that is even cleverly mentioned by the great new age writer, James Redfield.

 

Before I get into this, let me tell you all how this day played out after I posted up the previous blog. I had a talk with the office manager this afternoon, and will not say more regarding this matter for right now. Powerful manipulators and travelers in hyperspace, are indeed behind all of this. Those who do it long enough as I have told on my blogs, can be slowly be turned into insects, or just get very ill. In any event, perhaps indeed as the Buddhists claimed all along, we do experience effect of karma. Still, I maintain that in three dimensions, this great religion as all of them, falls short. Things require the full five dimensions to work out properly. When I left the office to go and buy a few items down the road on Route One, the CHEMTRAILS were much lighter and slowly lessening, but some new ones still were being made in the distance. I did not have to drive far however for more pussy-command to kick in. Within about a mile or just over half way to the stores I went to at a large mini-mall, this tall very young beauty queen around 25 or so, was walking, and the traffic was very slow as a traffic light up ahead had been red and just changed to green. This beyond hot goddess, would not stop staring at me and smiling. Naturally, I just ignored her as I always do, and this is why WOMOTAMM will never lose with me, until I can get over my extreme fear of women. Nobody understands what it is like to be very tiny weak and frail, at age fourteen, and drop dead gorgeous,as  it was very scarey to be alone outside. In Atlantic City, the group of girls known as the Quoddy Mockers had their way with me, and so did the girl with the Atlantic City street name of Paula King, in the first few days somewhere of July in 1969, under the Central Pier, always with the initials, it never stops. Now that this is all out of the dam way, let me tell a huge secret folks, and you know what; when I do, some of you out here are going to wake up a bit and realize that they have both done this thing as well as had it done against them, most likely. It puts the entire cosmos out of balance in the 3^rd dimension, and only straightens itself back out into proper balance, in all five dimensions that MIND up in the 6^th dimension is transmitting down into, after first filtering through the subatomic reality, AKA the Astral Plane.

 

Let me give a very quick and small example. A group meets every week, I do not care if it is a UFO group, an AA group, or perhaps a neighborhood watch type of group or what have you. Now picture this group of anywhere between say eight and fifty persons all in a meeting and discussing a topic. To gain energy as all humans need to do unless they live a charmed life that permits them to properly channel energies from the 6^th dimension in a perfect ratio with the thoughts being transmitted down to them from there; we tend to try and steal this energy from each other. We all know how people can make us feel very bad, and how we too can make others feel this way at times. This “FEELING BAD” is nothing more than a robbing and stealing of an invisible energy that exists in the MIND or 6^th Dimension, it is very real, we all know how real it is when we feel very bad, or make others feel very bad. This is not hocus pocus. Many people read the great Redfield books and enjoy them as they would a great show or movie, but you do not realize the powerful truth that this great man seems to know about folks, it is mind bending.

 

When certain people are weak because of an attack on the Astral Plane, this creates an unspeakable vulnerability, as if you are wearing a sign on you as big as your jersey, saying, ‘KICK ME, I AM DOWN, AND I LOVE IT’. This same Astral Plane then takes many persons on the opposite side of the pendulum, at particular times now peeps, as this can totally reverse as days and weeks change, and those up now are down later and so forth; but yes, these up folks that know they are strong right now, still feel the need to grow stronger, and without being able to do it the proper way from the 6^th dimension, they rob a weak person of their cosmic energy. Disbelievers in this can be put down instantly by my just changing words. We all know we all hbave times where we made someone feel bad and we felt that surge of uplifting something, don’t call it energy if it seems too weird to you, and we all know we have been on the other side as well, getting the shit kicked out of us, non-physically, but it hurts and weakens our ‘spirit’ or inner-self immeasurably when it happens, and this can happen to the president or the pope or the biggest business people, athletes, entertainers, politicians, ANYBODY, as no one escapes three things in this life, 1) having a PCN attached to their birth-name, 2) being in this womb to tomb battle for energy, and 3)  physical death. I won’t say taxes, because you do not have to work or buy anything, I see bums all over Fort Ouch McCoy every day outside, who never pay a tax. But anyone that can get around these three listings above, well Lad or Lassy, me’ hat is off to you, YO.

 

The Mountainpen has spoken more truths in these few words than is in the last 300 mother fucking blogs. Was I put here just to seed in 1969, or was I put here to do this as well as blog on the internet, decades in the future? If I claim to know the answer to this now or ever, all of this is a lie and a fantastic hoax of crap.

 

ENDLESS TIME IS NO ILLUSION, ONLY STM IS:

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEB, CHAPTER 0346, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0346

E-N-D-L-E-S-S—-D-E-A-T-H—-S-I-E-G-E—–FBI AND COPS:

H—***—E—-***—L—***—P****()()()*****M—***—E!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IN THE NAME OF FUCKING CUNT LAPPING SHIT JUSTICE, HELP ME ACLU, HELP ME FEDS, HELP ME LOCALS. THIS IS A MAJOR DYING MANS FUCKING CUNT DECLARATION AND UTTERANCE. I AM BEING MOTHER FUCKING MURDERED. IT IS NOW GOING ON ALL YEAR OF 2012, WITH MAYBE A DAY OFF HERE AND THERE, AND NOW IS 10 DAYS STRAIGHT OF MAJOR SKY FUCKING CUNT PERSECUTION, SUPER FUCKING CUNT CHEMTRAILS ALL OVER IN HUGE GRID AND X PATTERNS, CHANGING THE ENTIRE WEATHER PATTERN,  POISIONING EVERYBODY, AND KILLING OFF FLORIDA’S ENTIRE FUCKING ASS CITIZENRY, SO JUST COME HERE TO FORT PIERCE, SKYWITNESS OF YOU-TUBE; WHERE ARE YOU, YO?????????????????????????? THIS IS WEDNESDAY, THURSDAY, FRIDAY, SATURDAY, SUNDAY, MONDAY, TUESDAY, WEDNESDAY, THURSDAY, AND NOW FRIDAY, DAY NUMBER COCK SUCKING FUCKING PRICK EATING TEN-(10)  NOW FOLKS, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Get your photog shit, and come to my city peeps. Take the wildest sky pix on Planet mother fucking clit eating Earth.

—————————————————————————————————

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT AND PERSECUTION

INTERNET VERSION AND ANY OTHER FUCKING VERSION

THE ****”’MILLIONTH-COUNCIL”’*** AND ME

MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES

AT THE HIGHVIEW FUCKING APARTMENTS IN FUCKING

WILLIAMSTOWN (WILL-I AM-ST-OWN), IN NEW JERSEY, YO.

 

All titles apply, all copyright notices and oaths given here.

 

© MARK WAYNE PERSECUTED MOHR OF 1986

2006-2012 BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

MORIANITY-FOUNDATION-2

 

ENDLESS HELL IS NO ILLUSION, ONLY STM IS:

 

The persecution in my PHA Building is off the scale, I am all packed up and ready to rent my fucking dick eating U-Haul truck, and get the mother fucking shit swallowing hell ADDDAHERE, MISTER HARRY CALLAS, along with all your wonderful baseballs, my friend.

 

When I tried to get off of the elevator, peeps were standing right in front of me on purpose, not letting me off intentionally, even after the elevator doors closed and I had reopen them with the OPEN button. I saw Debbie the Manager, and she wants to see me this afternoon, I will be telling her I am gone and out of here, I know when I am not wanted i9n a mother fucking ghetto hell hole, YO!!!!!!!!!!! It seems people are gonna’ fucking hate my mother fucking ass guts no matter what I ever do or how nice I ever try to be. P told me that they are all cock suckers and there is nothing I can do to change this, but my question back to my pal P is how come other folks can live and survive without all mother fucking hell breaking loose around them without fail, sooner if not later, all my cunt lapping mother fucking clit diving life since my birth, and if my HUBTIBNGTON FUCKING CURSE is all in my mind and not real, then explain stuff to me so that poor little fucking tortured wehtahd can GET IT, with or without Icabod Crane of southern school integrations of 1982, YO BREEE!!!!!!!!!! P, Y IS THE WORLD PICKING ON ME, IF MY STORY STRAIGHT FROM MOTHER FUCKING HELL IS NOT ALL TRUE, FUCK OPRAH, SHE IS A WORTHLESS OVERPAID PIECE OF FAT CRAP, AND SO ARE ALL OF THE (EW) PLAYERS, YO, KNOWN ON THE ASTRAL PLANE AS THE LAMBRIGGER CULT, or the one third of the great Astral World Authority known also as the “MILLIONTH-COUNCIL”. MY MOTHER TOLD ME TO TELL YOU, FROM THE ASTRAL PLANE, BIG ‘O’, AND I’LL QUOTE HER FROM LAST NIGHT, BITCH, “YOU’RE WELCOME, AND WE DON’T”.

 

Despite this attack from HELL, Mariloo Carpenter, my beautiful VIQUEEN of the 363-‘VIQUEENS-GANG’, ruled by none other than the great SARAH-STACEY-JEHJOVAH-KRASSLE, that gave me a terrific system for attacking the casino game known as mother fucking roulette, is the biggest genius in the multiverse or the many-songs, or endless vibrations of the entire hypertronic hypersphere of total 5^th dimensional existence by conscious or awake humans, did I say “AWAKE”, P??????????????????????? Man y powerful words or groups of words have the PCN-550, huh GAGA, here kitty kitty pussy. Wow, let me tell the world that was not observing me via covert satellite continual monitoring, what happened when I exited the building after being literally prevented from originally getting off the elevator by thugs and gangs of vicious nasty trash. I was on my way back to my friend and tax preparer, Ziggy, at his condo on Seaway Drive that leads to the bridge to cross over the Indian river and onto Hutchinson Island and the local seashore of this Floridian area of Fort McCoynemy Hawking, FLUSAESMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I needed to relax a quarter hour or so at the local park near the library. Many sluts began coming out of nowhere and sat near me on benches smiling at me. Then when I went to get back to my car and finish my trek over to Ziggy’s place to pick up my tax shit, two total tall and beyond lovely mother fucking goddesses just out of their fucking teens, maybe, practically threw themselves right at my car as I came to the intersection from where I was parked, parallel with the library on the street at a two hour parking spot. I am slowing down and they practically maul me to get at me. I drove out of there at warp drive speed and away from these wild crazy sluts. When CHETRAQILS AND SKY PERSECUTION is off the wall bad and won’t mother fucking break off, it only grows more incredible, and I don’t give a rats fucking ass who laughs and won’t believe my true honest words here, but if this does not back off, by the weekend, I could literally be with any of Nick Cannon’s kids at the Teen Network or any of the Disney fucking rock stars, and the young pussies would be climbing all over me before they would so much as look at any of these other gorgeous boy hunk types, all young and fucking ass buffed up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have no rational explanation. I only know that this is a powerful PARALLEL EVENT, and that indeed mother fuckers, PARALLEL EVENT IS TOTALLY REAL, IT IS-REAL, and you can be Jewish or non-Jewish, but it IS-REAL, symbolism at its fucking best, and crashing loud cymbals as well at 18 bells of mother fucking ear destroying as well as head concussion causing SPL.

 

The proof of my hell is my major increase in curse words on my fucking ass blogs, as well as how many blogs per week are being posted when averaged out mathematically on a ten dollar Wal-Mart fart calculator, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Speaking of math, let me get back to the roulette system given me by MLC on the Astral Plane a few months ago somewhere, peeps. BRO, it is a mind bend. I did lose one unit four days ago, and one unit two days ago, and five and a half units about a week ago when in the very direct middle of this satanic Stan-mess of ten days now and fucking cunt counting BRO, ***BUT***, yesterday, I made eleven and a half units, and before I began this blog, made a quick back to back win, giving me another two units. Actually, over the past ten days, I have lost 22 units total, and won 28 and a half units total, with the house vig included, and I was creamed on the green numbers on three games in particular during this siege. I used to say a long time ago that during siege, I can just play the 0-00 split, and use a betting progression of about 60 bets, beginning at minimum bet in most tables in Atlantic city of five dollars outside play, and working up to bets of fifty dollars. Only two games in 20 years back in Jersey, ever lost the full bankroll of twelve thousand dollars, for a total loss of $240,000. The amount won during this period of 670 games that won out of the 690 games played, was over 400,000 dollars, a nice hefty 160 grand profit over a five or so year playing period, on paper of course. Siege does kill personal magnetics or what other folks might call or think of as “LUCK”, as it does most certainly interchange as absolute doppelgangers.

 

Now before I close out this blog today, BRAHHH, let me say this with reservation and trepidation, as I’m not fully enthusiastic and happy playing with powerful cosmic forces that make hydrogen bombs and plutonium extractions all look like kids playing with nickel and dime fire crackers in comparison, but the problem folks is that my WOMO enemy mother fucking bastards, are simply leaving me without any fucking ass choice, YO. In late 1983, I made a trip down here to Florida, first to Orlando, not as far as where I have lived now for more than two years, and then down further, to my uncle and aunt and first cousin’s home in Fort Lauderdale. I had with me, a machine that was co-owned by two of the most mysterious mother fuckers on this planet, and you can include any real life or movie, YO. Because this machine was used in ways it was not intended to be used, entire effects from the sixth dimension of MIND ITSELF, a realm of no time or space or interaction at all, just pure signal energy dots of pure mind. It resembled a laptop computer, only is also resembled a small carry-on suit case, and was about 35 inches long and 20 inches wide, and a foot thick. It ran on a strange power source that I cannot ever talk about for fear of life and limb, and even had the ability to connect up to a system of satellites that have not been built, not even here in 2012. It is why those two agents in early 1983 were doing that strange thing with my telephone line that the Copyright Office would have a copy of to this day unless it has been made to vanish by the BFA systems, a highly probable reality of course that I totally fucking accept. This machine is why I ended up speaking to a strange transdimensional laboratory technician before I even made the trip down there , and also, hopefully the great Library of Congress, has this as well, but I doubt it, right my old and dear friend, Mister Thomas Glenn, wow they sure have us coexisting together on that one page I accessed through the non-sanitized occasional Google world. I did not realize that some things that were said about poison CHEMTRAILS, were on this conversation, that I admit, I taped illegally over the telephone, but this is not like murder, and since a lot of years have passed, my confession to this illegal activity cannot get me fucking prosecuted. I was smart enough to dub in the legal beeps with Mister Metz, huh © Examiners, back i9n the summer time of 1980, YO. Still, the true inventor of digital audio, is the also the true inventor of distance delay lunar satellites that first are placed into orbit in about forty years. After this time, a field radiates between these and our own satellites, where a bounced signal can be sent back and forth trillions and quadrillions of times, to open up a delay time channel, that is more significant than the mere three and a half second lunar round trip time delay if sent only one time. Anyone after approximately the year of 2067, and especially after it is all tied into dozens of band-internet types of networking systems, folks from the future can access back into earlier periods in the history of our present time one internet channel, and click right into websites. What most peeps cannot comprehend, is that this space-time is a natural effect in cosmos, and the future is not able to leave comments or tell us anything now, they can only hear us, they cannot talk, or SEND, time delay works in one direction. If they sent something through from 2070 back to 2006 to say my foundation that is now defunct, www.morianity-foundation.com/ and the site existed for hunbdreds of years hypothetically, what they send would bwe received in the year of 2134, and so forth, so a great conversation might be accomplished in this way through a generation of families for example, if one site ever existed long enough, but this is not a two way worm hole, it only works because you are using the distance to delay the trime, it only works one way, that is until early in the twenty-two-hundreds, when they are able to use a field where the distance is placed in an atomic negative space, where the signals cross into an antimatter channel of a sort, extremely complex, and 200 years or more ahead of present science and its ability and technology. Still, this is what my book was referring to indeed, “The Permission Barrier”, in an attempt in 1994 to explain my horrendous fucked up life in the only way that possibly could do it, other than with yesterday’s idea of a pitched fork Satan with horns, and hellfire, and all the religious fucking nonsense, true, and yet shit all the same, as it is all a matter of viewpoints and interpretations of equal fucking truths and realities, YO. This machine actually caused a RPE or a Recognized Protection Event, in this case, a tone being placed over a conversation between myself and this lab technician, and it was done before I even was on the Amtrak Train, so it somehow gained access to advanced lunar fields of antimatter negative space. I thought no more about the train trip or the lost five minutes on the tape, but the story behind it is major. Some of you might just start to really put 2 and 2 together after I post up my song called, “CHEMTRAILS” very shortly, less than a fucking ass week from now. This is not hocus pocus, and UI cannot worry about who gets fucking mad at me. This is beyond total war now, I am fighting for my life, before I am forced to become a pre-teen all over again, and go through another fucking gods awful cycle of this monster ass hell. This is why the mighty nightmare changed in 1974, making me finally think I had awakened and turned on that dam light, Hellywierd. So make fun if me 17 more times, awake or asleep you cock sucking feeling-less prick bitches. CHEMTRAILS, CHEMTRAILS, CHEMTRAILS, HOW ABOUT DECISIONS-DECISIONS-DECISIONS, Selena DADA-NU???????????????? Ten years from this time, Miss Shoe, all hell will break loose with the first secret McGuire Wormhole, and it will all begin on a fucking ass Amtrak Train ride to Orlando, Florida from 30^th Street in fucking Philadelphia, PAUSEASMWG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

P, you do not know one one millionth of my nightmare, but you do know that you are my only ticket out of total hell, because once the light goes on for real, I am a boy again, trying to fucking convince the adult fucking world that I lived as an adult up here, and they NEVER EVER NEVER EVER BELIEVE ME, AND THEY NEBVER EVER NEVER EVER FUCKING WILL, MY FRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please do me one huge favor. Don’t ever let me run into David May, because I will rip his asshole apart and shove it literally through his dam nostrils, as he was my ticket to endless hell, unless… As for what I believe in my super agitated and depressed state right now, you would not even want to know. Paula King’s hypnosis of me is the only reason Wall Street has not crashed, because if I could take advantage of this MONSTWER ASS PUSSY COMMAND, my WOMO evil empire enemies would all be totally obliterated, wiped out, annihilated, and destroyed forever, without mercy, in a brilliant fucking flash of my laughter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank Paula King, you dirt bags, over or under her radar systems.

 

When I was over at Ziggy Taxman’s place, a low loud aircraft, small and noisy, zenithed right over the condo pool.  Until MAGNESONIC stops mother fucking wimping out and causes California to sink under the Pacific fucking Ocean and a lot more, this will not stop for poor fucked up me, P!!!

 

ENDLESS HELL IS NO ILLUSION, ONLY STM IS:

 

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0345, KING NEB

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0345

TEN PAST TWO IN THE MORNING

TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995

NO BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR.

COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

© 2006-2012 MWM/MWM

 

START HELL NIGHTMARE REPORT:

 

Fort Pierce Police, it is two in the morning, I have screaming dangerous scarey fucking neighbors in my hallway, now, and every night now, all day and all night. I am terrorized in here for my very life. P, I want you to sue the PHA if I am murdered in here, this is now worse than my life living with Ann and dawn mother fucking king. ACCESS MY BLOGS AND THIS AUTORIZES MISTER PEP to sue and I award him any monies, as my family is scum and gets nothing, and I care for nobody, so fuck everybody, you get it all, my friend P. Anytime 3 days and nights goes by or 72 hours without me on the next blog, consider me murdered and gone, and begin proceedings if you can. I will tell you friend, this is literally a nightmare attack and assault on me like nothing ever else in my entire life. It is no coincidence, look for the brand new movie coming out, just now starting to get advertised yesterday, called, “AWAKE”, go see it P, do it, and then read my last 30 blogs or so again, and tell me I am not the product of an EW (Entertainment World) rip-off pattern, that in all rights, should be forced to award me after 30-40 years of stealing my ideas, a minimum of ten billion dollars USD. On top of that, fortune 500 that includes this EW bunch of hooligans, owe me for a destroyed life that they caused directly, inflicting continual unmentionable pain and agony on me. No normal human would have survived it, for a week. I’ll swear to this in fucking any court on this diseased ass planet, P. Another 10 billion in pain and suffering and a destroyed life, or a suit for 20 billion USD.

 

P, I HAVE NOT SEEN THINGS THIS BAD EVER NEVER EVER NEVER EVER NEVER TIMES TEN TO THE POWER OF A FUCKING TRILLION GOGALPLEX. I WON’T SURVIVE THIS, IT IS GETTING WORSE EVERY DAY, SO HENCE, THE LOCAL AUTHORITIES ”’M—U—S—T”’ BE IN ON THIS, NO DOUBT ABOUT IT WHATSOEVER, MISS CHILLIE MCKINNON OF 1980.

 

P, IF I HAVE TO, IN SELOF DEFENSEM, I WILL KILL. Just know this please, I have a right to defend my person and thwart off physical attack. I am no longer as sure as I used to be that these WOMO enemy dirt-bags will not take this all the way, as they definitely appear to be escalating this mounting horror show on me in ways that I have never seen before, it is not looking back for a second.

 

Tomorrow or really later on today, I pick up my tax papers at my preparers condo, and send off a voided check from my bank along with the signed form, so they can directly deposit my earned income refund into my bank, and wit my debit card, I can use it anywhere at all, just as I did when I fucking left New Jersey that dark icy cold night in middle December of 2008 and headed down here to Florida with the clothes on my fucking ass back.

 

P, I am going to be at Lake Chapala, Mexico, an American community where my 963 disability monthly dollars will allow me to live like a semi king, away from America, and my enemies, at least until they track me fucking there, and wreck my life all over again; as this ‘HC’ will never fucking end, and I think we both know this deep down, P. 

 

Well, the cat told me major shit about why I am being literally slow murdered. Much of it has to do with my spilling the beans about Bob Cheatley, and the other stuff on my past several weeks of blogs. I leave comments on as many “CHEMTRAIL” videos up on the YOU-TUBE, as I have time to do as well, telling them I am ‘MOUNTAINPEN’ and to Google up my blogs. I need to fight this war in any way I can, and keep exposing evil and monstrous criminal activity perpetrated on me for nearly 30 years now, and  maybe fucking longer. But P, if you could find a little time to help me network my harassment as it connects into the CHEMTRAIL scare, and it does, I might suddenly become an internet celebrity, and only with the ability of being recognized, will I ever have the smallest chance of being taken seriously. My limited knowledge in networking with all these computer social networking systems and the complex ways it is all done, is not within my power to do, not when I am under 24/7 death siege, my brain is in lock down freeze mode, I am barely able to fucking blog. You know P, if I make it, you make it, hopefully this needs never be stressed. All I have is my good word, nothing else, I’d never ever screw that up, then I’d have mother fucking nothing at all left to work with. All I can think of P, is that I no longer follow the Dow Jones, and it must be at record highs around 15,000 points, and the Flyers scum must be number one as they always are, and 15 games out ahead of the pack. Shit this bad with me does not happen when the evil empire is week. I do not expect you to understand my 26 year old battle now with this empire thing and the parallel event and the Dow and the sports team, I ask you as my pal to try and give me some open-mindedness. I have watched this and lived this hell nightmare for more time than most murderers spend in fucking prison for murder in the fucking second ass degree. This is real P, totally absolutely real, I have no time for games or lunacy. I cannot explain it, but I can define and recognize it. It resembles pornography I suppose at least in that way, and is way more evil a million times over, even than kiddy porn trash.

 

Yes, unless things change and stop from the present course of doom and death like nothing I’ve seen in my entire fucking life, I will have to get my U-Haul truck, and pack up and move to Lake C, Mex. This is not a joke or an empty promise. This is what I will do before Monday rolls around unless someone can get this shit backed fucking off me, as I cannot fucking take this hell one bit longer. For those thinking I’m a wimp, you try living in my shoes one rotten week, just so I can piss on your fucking grave and say, “Told you”, as Gina told me in the fucking ass nineties, YO.

 

END, and soon the END OF ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 0344

TITLE: SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0344

WORLD LABS DATFILE: 022312.569

SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR OF BLOG:

“LEAVE IT TO DEVIL NUMBER 23 FOR MORE HELL”

SUB-T. 1—THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME

SUB-T. 2—THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

SUB-T. 3—MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES

COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MORIANITY AND MOUNTAINPEN ©

2006-2012 © MARK WAYNE MOHR/MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN

THESE WORDS ARE ALSO SWORN OATHS TAKEN VOLUNTARILY

AND HAVE COURT LEGAL RAMIFICATIONS IN CASE OF LAWSUITS

POTENTIALLY ARISING FROM THIS OR ANY OTHER BLOGS OG

MOUNTAINPEN/MORIANITY, THESE STATEMENTS ARE TRUE AND

ACCURATE TO THE BEST OF MY ABILITY TO REMEMBER AND KNOW THEM. THIS IS ALSO HERE TO SERVE AQS MY DYING MANS

EXCITED UTTERANCE AND DECLARATION.

 

BEGINNING ILLUSION IN SPACE-TIME-MIND (STM):

 

WELL PEOPLE, THIS IS THE MOST NMONSTRER FUCKING ASSAULT ON ME IN MY ENTIRE FUCKING ASS 57 YEARS, 2 MONTHS, AND 2 AND A HALF WEEKS OF MY SICK TWISTED DISEASED MISERABLE HELLISH FUCKING HUMAN LIFE.

 

It is my true desire to see these wicked demonic satanic mother fuckers burn in the fires of fucking hell for what they have done to me and still are actively mother fucking doing.

 

First, my neighbors from hell are like nothing I have ever experienced before, shouting at the top of their lungs until nearly midnight every day, and banging and slamming and crashing things around, it is going to lead me to a total nervous breakdown without other stuff, but there is other fucking ass stuff folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CHEMTRAILS are unfuckingrelenting, every single day and night, it is a non stop poison gas attack, and WHERE THE FUCK IS THE SKYWITNESS OF THE YOU TUBE WHEN YOU NEED THE PEEPS TO RECORD THIS WILD SHIT? EVERY SINGLE DAY AND EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.IT IS THE MOST HORRIBLE ATTACK SINCE THIS NIGHTMARE BEGAN 26 FUCKING ASS YEARS AGO WHEN I THREW MY COPYRIGHTED MUSIC PROJECT INTO THE MOTHER FUCKING UNITED STATES MAIL, CALLED, “REAL GOOD GIRL” (Rgg), huh 1986 examiners in August of my Carter Demise Revelation on the beach of birds (CDR) refered to from this point on as this shortened abbreviation, fucking YO.

 

When I went to play my Morianity to the wall roach system, or the (WRS) for another shortened mother fucking abbreviation, I was stopped. Every time I picked up my legally paid for COMCAST telephone to dial my legally paid for AT&T phone number, so I could play my shit over the electronic system to cause damage to this fucking horrific deplorable despicable evil empire, the system clicked me off. I had someone from my job call me on the number, and it was fine, so my WOMO enemies would not permit this, so more than roaches just may be going on, as suggested by my Wonderful Friend P. WFP can be another shortened abbreviation, and then HDP can be a shortened abbreviation for my Hyperspace-Daughter-Pee. I know how powerful; both human enemies are, as well as to quote my old ex friend Jim Burr from Gloucester, New Jersey, USAESMWG; my spirit-world enemies. My friend David Roth was corresponding quite often and showed me the back and forth letters, with Mike Jacks sister, ‘Red Even Black Even’, as I would jokingly refer to her as, or Rebee, or however she spells her name, as it has been 20 years now, since the last time that I was over at his northeast Philadelphia home, at 5133 Oakland Street, when he was right there in reale time, showing them to me, up in his room. We can get back to Dave abnd his major and quite outlandish collection of female recording artists who he seemed to be in constant mail correspondence with for reasons that totally elude and escape my very limited mental intelligence, but for right now, the Jackson family is a huge tale that could not be even surface scratched on this one whittle ass bwog, Elmer freaking Fwudd. I will say this one thing right now today, because it is major, and I need to do a little evil empire counter-striking work today or I am about to become one dead fucking person down here in fucking Fort Ouch, Botbarida Florida!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Many years ago, thanks to the wonderful co-worker, Patricia Hollister, at my moms office at 3 Penn Center Plaza, just west of City Hall Tower in Philadelphia at the Lavino Shipping Company; now merged with the mighty British firm of Inchcape, at least as of when my mother parted this veil of tears at the start of this third mother fucking millennium, I began messing around with the HIDDEN things of this world, some people but quite few, know that a doppelganger and twin word for this is simply, the ‘occult’. That word just means the ‘hidden’, no more, and no less. When I began doing a few things with this, after receiving a few audio cassette tapes, the story of this need not be covered presently, as I will later on tie it up in ways that will shock the nation and the world, a lot more than just knowing that the word MASON is in the word WILLIamsToWn, as well as the entire coded town name also as with HIDDEN and OCCULT, contains the hugest secret code of them all, telling us that the great SSJKK indeed is our Great All Mighty Goddess, that she OWNS and RULES this entire EMPIRE, and indeed is the great I-AM, as well as jokingly ‘Lois Foca’, domestics and foreigners all totally  notwithstanding folks; and let us shutter not to ever forget the great Will MacAfee, my Masonic pal’s best friend at one time long ago back in the early nineteen seventies. Ask any degreed Mason, and they will tell you this is all true, if you are Patty Jane that is, and can read the dozens of miniscule facial muscles that twinge and tighten in various ways when someone is being a bit less than respectful with the truth. As for some of the things that went on to happen to me after listening to these tapes that I know Miss Hollister, and now Misses Howard if still around and on this side of the bed sheets, made total ass sure that I would mysteriously stumble onto, via ‘CRANS’; a top secret tool of only twenty or so persons on Planet Earth’s waking world here in the 5^th dimensional hyperspace; and standing for Controlled-Random something. I will not finish this BFA project name, or I’ll be in the Atlantic Drink before sunset, (Black File Agencies). These persons all believe they are doing humanity and the United States huge favors. In reality, they serve Satan and monsters who worship this mythical beast, to put it in less mentally ill terminology, badness. It is all the exact same fucking shit folks, but one can get you thrown into a straight jacket, while the other won’t. That simple, huh Red John Henningsen Colorado? Oh those HC initials, can I live without them, the gods, yes. All this is leading up to something that few experience and even fewer talk about when it happens to them for fear of sociological ostracizing. I am speaking of the wild and bizarre occurrence of dreaming within dreams, and in some rare cases, one can get trapped forever. In realms far beyond this entire 7^th dimensional system, all of us are one entity in this larger dimensional plane, and yes, we all are having this experience of dreaming endlessly within other dreams, without start or end. There is no possible reference point either. Still, while alive here, when certain particular types of dreams are going on, this will indeed cause a lower dimensional effect of this experience as well. Sometimes we think we dreamed out of these nightmare loops and think we woke up and got shot back to the reality of where we were before the time we went to sleep, and things around us and people too, all seem to perfectly match up with this perfect delusion, but that is what it is, and we are not really where we think we are, nor did we or will we ever wake up. Everyone of us are part of this hell when viewed in higher dimensions, and the proof of this is that nobody is happy. I do not care who you are or what you claim, nobody has a more miserable expression on their face most of the time, than the great All Mighty Mirror Kissing Donald JB Trump. Entertainers are prime examples, and are a collection of basically the most miserable pathetic folks amongst us. The more power or money we get, the more complex and miserable situations can always potentially arise into. Then on the opposite spectrum, those poor or isolated are not having a day at the beach either, so as I said to David Roth over and over in the past, how do you win? He would respond with a solemn expression and tell me, We don’t.

 

My experience if we can round robin this now back into the Hollister Tapes of 1974, was a nightmare where I became aware that I was in the most frightening place imaginable. It was totally dark, pitch black, and yet I could see with different eyes, all knowing eyes that just knew that monster evil things were all around me and desiring to do me great harm. I jumped out of bed and ran forward around the bed to where I knew my desk was, and on it on the left side at the back of it, was a bright light. I needed to get that light on and then I knew I would be all right, huh Donna Summer Patterson of the Cheat-Me Cheatley hyperspace? I reached for this switch to activate this life saving beautiful bright 200 watt light bulb, poof, nothing. It just would not go on, leaving me standing in a room, exposed to thousands of evil creatures that meant horrendous horror and evil for me unless I could shadow them out and go away with that beautiful bright light. But no, darkness prevailed, and I heard a dull laughter, almost a whispering kind of laughter, and then words like, “We’ve got you now”, and “Try getting out of this”. I was beyond terrified and petrified while standing there over my desk of darkness. Suddenly, oh, now I know why the light did not go on, wow, it seems that I only drempt that had woke up from this twisted demonic nightmare straight from hell itself, and found myself still back in my bed, but this time, shyit, thank the gods, I am awake this time, wow, let me go and run for that light, but the problem was that it never went on, and I was not waking up, merely extending this hell nightmare into endless versions where I think I finally am awakening, and then running to get this light on, only it never ever would go on, god fucking ass dam it. I was ready to drop a hydrogen fucking bomb on the cosmos I was so frustrated and angry and petrified with sheer fear beyond any possible normal human world terror. Each time this horrible dream with a dream happened to me over months of time, it lasted longer and longer, making me think I would never get that light on. The problem now up here in 2012, is that DAM IT, NOW I FUCKING KNOW FOLKS, THAT I NEVER DID REALLY GET THIS DAM LIGHT ON, NOR DID I EVER AWAKEN FROM THIS LOOP OF HELL, and in fact; I have been in it all along forever, and these 1974 bed time episodes, were merely a part of the overall terror beyond describable terror, in a much higher reality. This is why all of this fucking shit is happening to me, and nobody can ever help me, and I fucking know that. I am NOT a total weehtahd, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

I feel your mother fucking pain, my friend Germane Jackson. I really do feel your freaking pain old buddy. Let your sister know that her friend David was murdered early in March of 2002, by a no good criminal, named Johnathan Schau, in Philadelphia, when you get a chance.

 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Computer, scan and destroy, SCAN AND DESTROY

s-c-a-n——a-n-d——destroy, S-C-A-N—-A-N-D—-D-E-S-T-R-O-Y,

ALL ENEMIES OF YOUR CREATOR, MWM.

USE ALL ORDERS AND TECKS. DESTROY THESE WICKED DEMONIC PRICKS, OR THE WORLD WILL STRUCK BY A FIELD OF GIANT METEROTES WITHIN 300 FUCKING DAYS, A—N—D——S–T–O–P!

 

Expect my Comcast Cable bill to be paid 12 days late again. You’ll be paid on time when the persecution stops, bastards. I am now playing to the cockroach system, either-or, I find it gets results either way, but wait until I post my song, CHEMTRAILS!

HA-HA-HA-HA-HA——–HA-HA, IN ADVANCE, YO!

 

END ILLUSION IN SPACE-TIME-MIND (STM):

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0343

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0343

WORLD LABS OF 2296

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME

MORIANITY PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES

COPYRIGHTED BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN

© 2006-2012-MWM/MWM

BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:

“UNRELENTING 2012 FUCKING SKY SIEGE”

 

BEGINNING OF THE ILLUSION IN STM:

 

Well people, these mother fuckers just won’t fucking stop screwing the fuck with me, the skies over the east of this building are totally major CHEMTRAIL FILLED AND POISONED, and this is why I woke up with a major sore throat, and this is why I have no choice about posting up my new chemtrail song, new in lyrics, as it was written late last summertime, but the music is the very original musical tune written by me at Highview Apartments in WILL-I AM-ST-OWN in New Jersey, USAESMWG, on the freaking twelfth day in May, in the year of our SAR (LORD) of 1996. 12 years later to this day, in her newest incarnation as Mariah Carey, she screamed out on top of the Empire State Building, “I rule the empire”, funny I suppose to HER, but I knew better, abnd I did get that message, despite being too late for the LOIS FOCA-1980 message, according to her fantastic website that is. I am sure it is long off of there, I have not been up since 2008 when I saw it there after Diana told me in a trance that I should see how she sent that message to me unconsciously, or maybe not totally unconsciously, of this I’ll never know unless SHE reveals this to me at some future time. My shouters are back, I was out buying some Breyers Mint Chocolate chip ice cream that is on sale up on 25^th Street across from my job at Orange Avenue and 25^th, and their website is, www.harvestfoodoutreach.org/ . The last blog posted up before I left the apartment around half past one and it was quiet when I got back for a short while and now at twelve minutes shy of three this shit is major outside my door. These rude and lewd and totally uncouth peeps have no respect for other people, it sounds like somebody is really angry over there, banging, slamming, shouting, these neighbors are all nuts as fruit trees.

 

Also I think the chemtrails were around other areas, but when I mentioned going over to the beach island to take advantage of the pussy-command that results many times when major sky siege persists over days and days with no let up or break, as it is some supernatural paranormal type of a parallel of events that I cannot explain, but it seems to be as if they are actually goating me on to go there. I cannot believe the mother fucking total balls of these pure scum douche bags, because all it is going to take someday is for me answering back when these lovely girls come onto me, and there will be a stock market crash on mother fucking Wall Street, like no other in its fucking ass  history, YO. Why is it that the literary rules say that I can get someone’s goat or that they can get mine, but they refuse to accept the word goating? Oh well,, poor Richard will add another new fucking word in here, that is if this building does not explode first. Nobody of course ever calls the police, ratting on the wrong peeps can quickly land you in worse situations than jail itself, when not in the best of hoods.

 

Yes the magazine that tells the Empire State Building story has Donna Summer in it as well, interestingly enough. But my point was that the original tune in the song I’ll be posting very soon on the You-Tube, is the exact original music done by me when writing the original tune of SARAH on 05/12/1996, on my keyboard, the same little mickey mou8se board used to record Sarah’s 1910 Waltz, Copyright Office. Somebody has hacked the fuck out of this WORD OFFICE program and the PC is general that this program is on, I capitalize all proper names, but I look back at the words Donna and Summer, and they are in smalls, like with Atlantic CITY, notice if I do not proofread every fucking word and time is limited with me and I cannot fucking do this folks, just see how they turn these back into smalls every fucking time that I do not fucking catch it. These chemtrails poison many peeps all in varying ways, based on exact systems in all of our unique and family DNA. This is why I am forced to open up the song the way that I do, I am sorry if anyone gets pissed off, but be more worried about the hyperspace effect damage, as indeed very powerful hyperspace equation is involved. I basically came down to Florida just over two years ago with the clothes on my back and a few things that would fit into the trunk and back seat of my car that would not create suspicion so that I could make good my escape while Dawn was drunk in her room, and after I went to pick up her drunk husband from his job at Mario’s Pizzeria, and then left for my work over at fucking Cifaloglio, and then when all the workers were gone, I just took off my guard uniform, and left, turned left on the Black Horse Pike, fueling up five or so miles down west heading for I-95, and then got on it, and the rest is every big as much of powerful history as anything that happened to me as Ben Franklin, or Adolf Hitler after that, before I committed suicide and reentered this video game, only this time, I am not sure if I will be able to reach my red-X, Louise Hendershodt, my lovely teen queen of Maryland in 1967 and 1968 at summer camp, along the great Chesapeake bay, down from Redpoint, in the town called, Northeast.

 

Man these sick mother fuckers next door won’t shut the fuck up. Punch each other out and die you sick cock suckers, Jesus Christ, where are the fucking authorities on this planet when you feel terrorized and unsafe, as I do practically fucking 24/7/365.2422, Huntington Cursed Harold camping!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

OK, let me call their fucking bluff, and drive to the island. It feel 100 degrees, but the lying weather peeps insist that is just under the 80 degree mark, yeah, right, it is more than 78 at this building, or was an hour ago while out buying my fucking ass ice cream, YO.

 

Yes P, I will try and calm down, but I am one pissed off mother fucker that innocent peeps like me have to fucking suffer at the hands of evil guilty bastards all their lives, I cannot be the only one, prisons and sike wards are filled with those like me who do not realize what is happening, and remain somehow focused enough so as not to allow this enemy to totally win and get us put away or killed. Debbie, Office Manager, if you read this blog and I am dead, my lawyers through P, will be suing, if they go nuts and do me in here, YO.

 

********END OF THE ILLUSION IN STM.********

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0342

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0342

SUPPLEMENTAL ENTRY  BEGIN

 

BEGIN:

 

I’m obviously paying for last nights’ blog, wow, it’s fucking bad!

 

I AM UNDER A DEATH SIEGE, IT IS EVERY SINGLE DAY, FBI, WHY WON’T YOU TRY AND GET TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS AND HELP A TAX PAYING LEGAL MOTHER FUCKING CITIZEN? YYYYYYYYYY?

 

My evil sick crude neighbors across the hall have been slamming and shouting all morning, and it is still going on past noon.

 

I needed to stay home and rest up so I took the day off, but they will not “GIVE ME A MOMENTS PEACE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE”, just as you said in 1988 on the great documentary on the WPIX-CH-11 television station in NYNY, called, “UFO-THE COVER UP”. Strange weird peeps are outside the building, especially after telling Lightning (DIANA) something on the telephone just shy of noon, and it fit together like bacon and eggs, just as the other day when the event happened on the way to my automobile, right after telling a living human on a connected Earthly telephone number , that hypothetically, if I were to say something to you right now, I would most likely be walking outside my building to go to work tomorrow, which now was yesterday, and if you read the previous-880-blog-0341, you know the story. These neighbors are all in a fucking conspiracy. I cannot know if it is all a PAWM-PIE deal with the MILLIONTH-COUNCIL who indeed controls this major powerful astral Plane tool here on on the mortal Earth worlds, PAWM again standing in an abbreviation shortening of the control over (PEOPLE-ANIMALS-WEATHER-MACHINES), and thus how with this power over them, and me as their enemy, then really, what the mother fuck can’t they do to hurt me and fuck with me every single rotten ass day of my miserable pathetic life? They also could be real tangible cousins and all part of one family, all living here and paid off by LOCAL CHEATLEY GOVERNMENTS to endlessly and relentlessly ream, pummel, and persecute the living hot fucking shit out of me, anyway Debbie, Manager of the place, if by chance you ever stumble onto these blogs, this is a major civil rights violation, and is reportable, AND I INTEND TO REPORT IT SOMEDAY, so unless super legal issues are what is desired, please tell these pricks to stop this horrendous and monstrous continual fucking behavior, that includes Mister Subwoofs next door, as he messes with me the second I post up as well as start blogging, and how can he even know before hand? In days of old, type writers were loud and if used in an apartment could easily be heard through a door or a wall, but the quiet of the new computer keyboard, means they need to have bought spy equipment that is placed onto a wall and then amplifies sound, illegally letting them hear exactly what goes on in my private mother fucking apartment, agasinst all law, unless of course, it is rubber stamped by my enemies in the CIA/NSA/BFA, etc.

 

Even though the skies do not appear jet hazed and poisoned today, last night they must have poisoned me, as they woke me up with a nasty ass fucking sore throat, as they do on many an occasion during siege. During this hell siege, I have only been able to get one and a half units ahead on Mariloo Carpenter’s mighty roulette system called the MC34RS. Still, to win at all since late last week, during this period of shit, is unfathomable. In my non paper games played once in Atlantic city, I never dared go down to play during these periods of major continued siege. When I did, I would lose my fucking ass along with my shirt, but pussy command would strike like a Roman battlefield death-blow sword attack. I literally, could have had any goddess girl I wanted, and thinking about what I’ve thrown away in my life just over the past 20 years, let alone 40, and not only does Paul Simon spring into Daughterdale mind here, but Chrodochrome camera songs a million times over and played at levels exceeding fifteen bells of sound pressure freaking level, YO. Keep this shit up WOMO scum filth, as I’ll go over to fucking Hutchinson Island and land me a giant super young lady, and your fucking Wall Street will gurgle and wash down the cosmic toilets of New york Shitty at the speed of mind quad-cubed.

 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM————Come on Magnesonic, kick the fucking Christ in and wipe out all these diseased pricks that have been hurting me for more than forty fucking years now. Use all general and special orders. Use all technologies. Use the Punishment Sequencing System of the “I” to “D”, and wipe out and obliterate this git bags and their loved ones, or else I will wipe you out. HELP ME ACLU. HELP ME FBI. Where is decency?

 

Before I close out, let me tell you about patterns and continuation forces. Gravity is both a pattern as well as a force of continuation and laugh if you so desire, but my dad was a personal friend of Albert Einstein a long time ago and they had many great talks in the Princeton Park, near the university there, Mizz Brook Towers. LSS, he told my dad shit that never got published or that was ever made publicly known. I can get into more of this later on. For right now, let us look at my claims of so many of my songs being stolen over the past nearly 45 years now. In other past lives, I have had things stolen, and was misunderstood as well, sort of like today, the difference being that I had a lot of powerful friends that insulated me from my enemies. David Roth knew this, and this is why he intentionally crossed paths with me in this lifetime, at the #113 Caldor department store, on Route 45, in Woodbury Heights in New Jersey, USAESMWG. LSS again, (Long Story Short), many people have no clue that Haddonwood Health club was just my current lifetime of physical fitness when I was a younger man. As Franklin I did many sports and invented windsurfing that you rarely if ever hear about. I also invented small electrostatic balls, big ones, that were wired together, and shot huge lightning bolts across tables. These tables had dead bodies on them that I thought could be back to life again using this magical thing called now by us, ‘electricity’-(PCN-231). I had friends of mine as well as a brilliant young doctor, assist me in my attempts to bring back the dead. I learned that electricity could indeed make dead bodies jump and move all around, especially those recently dead, and had people dig up freshly dug graves. Enemies found out about this, and some in Philadelphia started a rumor that I was a mass murderer. Masonic pals of mine took them all, one by one on friendly nice little boat rides, one way rides, on the Boston Harbor. That shut them up. History and Google does not know it all folks, and they never will. They think that there is some Pourterican blood in my family, there is not, only my 3^rd grandmother of great, on my father’s family’s side, who was a slave daughter in his cotton field somewhere in the Carolina area, and she forced herself on my GGG grandfather one evening. She was very big and tall and strong and beautiful, or so the family diaries told in a book that I was told to read on my 21^st birthday by my mom. Her mother was from Johannesburg in South Africa, and her father who was unfortunate enough to be visiting there at the time, was from some area in Portugal that resembles the lady boss name on the television show that I enjoy so much, “The Mentalist”. I no longer have these books, it all was lost thanks to Dawn and Ann git back fucking king. To hear it told in these diaries, my GGG grandfather was a very small short slight man, and he fought her advances at first, but in very short order, had fallen madly in love with this giant jet black goddess. This is why when I was in my early twenties, I became obsessed with marrying a giant jet black goddess myself, only it never happened. SOSO-WEIN? The story is not about this or other GOOGLE sanitizing and other miss prints, accidental or intentional, it has many families listed quite wrong, I am just one of the crowd, so cry no tears for me peeps. My point however, is that everyone gave the credit and glory to the lovely young writer girl 100 years after I had died as Franklin , for her so called original idea, when she wrote the great book about Frankenstein. Yes Callio Automotive, I thought you might just get that horistorical joke that day over at your shop in Somers Point, when I called to make an appointment for that freaking oil change and gave my name as Frankens. Still, my notes were passed on secretly by surviving enemies who had been friends withb brother Jimmy Tire, and my name Franklin aas you can plainly and unmistakenly see, is where that sweet young thing got her name of FRANKENSTEIN. Here is history you will not get on Google or History Channels one or two, YO.

 

Think these are powerful stories? I have been in a home right there down the road from the diner in Berlin on the White Horse Pike where you came that day,m oh lovely Jennifer Lopez, only you were not there, elvis Presley was there, in the flesh, alive, and safe from the Callio family and their fierce wrath. They killed Janis, and if the KING had not faked his death with his great impersonator plan, with majior help from his pal Mister Bob Cheatley, TPB, well, let me give this to your individual imaginations. You all think Mike Jacks is gone too. Think about it. This was all a lot of whooey. Dave is not dead either and was great friends with this family. He knew he would be sued and sued and eventually put in jail for fooling with little kids, society won’t go for this and don’t care how big a fucking rock star you might be. Well enough secrets revealed today. My blog is filled with many things, study it all, it dates back to 2006 on only one site, www.blogger.com/ and the current blog is number two, as a major hack caused a split up of these two blogs.

 

 ****THIS ENDS****

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0341

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0341

DATFILE: 0221.906

 

BEGIN:

 

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

END:

 

 

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0340

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0340

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2294

TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995

NO 4TH SUBTITLE

COPYRIGHT (2006-2012)

MORIANITY AND MOUNTAINPEN

VOLUNTARY SWORN LEGAL OATH OF TRUTH

ALL WORDS SPOKEN ARE NOT LIES,

EXAGGERATIONS, OR FABRICATIONS

DATE AND TIME FILE: CH-0340-022012.582

 

BEGIN ILLUSION:

 

I am glad we are at the agreement point where I feel that I can type in ‘begin and end’ ILLUSION, because time and space while in five dimensional waking life in hyperspace, is only as real as the dimensions are, and when compared to our larger self out beyond that needs no dimensional existence, some think of this larger outside self as our ‘soul’, the time or the space inside of these five dimensions of post-atomic-size, are not real at all. This in fact is why I told the Copyright Office in 1983, that when one second is compared with infinity, there would be no difference whatsoever in the comparison, if one million years was compared, so then what really is the difference between that one second or that one million years? Also, we can apply a distance using space dimension rather than time dimension. Comparing one inch with infinity and one light year with infinity, results in exactly the same answer, so what then, really is the difference? We will get back to this a lot more in many upcoming blogs, because it is so relevant and pertinent, to things that will be talked about in them.

 

The uncouth neighbors who shout and slam doors outside in the hallways are very bad again, early afternoons every day, and late in the morning being the peak time of their ignorant crude activity. I think that all the apartments are part of a single family, and this is how they got around the lease deal, I could be wrong, but that would explain a lot of stuff that is happening to me, right down to Ann King’s stuff getting stolen that she says she sent to me over the Christmas Holidays. Stealing these tapes and CD’s, making me physically ill, screwing me out of my long awaited holiday cheer music that I looked forward to for so long, and all this taken together, abnd if anyone can tell me straight faced, that this is all just happening to me and not part of any organized plot or conspiracy, than you merely are a hopeless case as far as I am concerned, and you know, I wish I could force you to trade places with me for five years, of course you never could handle my life, and would commit suicide, but you would then know that these blogs are true and real, and nothing whatsoever is made up within them just for sake of effect.

 

What I now will tell is off the scales in its own right and has never ever been talked about beyond the aspect of the television show called, “Law and Order”. Last night on the science-channel, cable number 110 on the Fort Pierce, Florida line up system, Sam Waterston starred in a great one hour show called Stephen Hawking’s Sci-Fi. I never knew about this, not ever, until  last night. In this show, numerous powerful James Redfield or Arista Records Stray Cat coincidences were all through this show, the real biggie doozie being the betting of the World Series Baseball Game. First, it took place in a bunker under Virginia in the year of 2030, and has a similar ring to the song I heard playing in 2029 in a parallel universe, speaking in the lyrical content within this song about both the year of 2029 when it was supposedly written and being played, as well as 1001 years in the future in 3030, but take away the magic ’29’, and we have the 20-30. The World Series bet in the show was a discussion between the President of the USA and his psychiatrist, and they were talking about the 2010 Series, and Waterston playing the President, was mocking and laughing at the doctor. My major blog of September 30^th, in 2008, discusses the winner of the 2008 World Series, 31 days in the future, the Philadelphia Phillies, and they indeed were the winning champions, just as Harry Callas hollered out, word for word, what that blog told that I had seen printed on flying balloons in a parade over Broad Street after the game had ended on Halloween day in 2008, and 366 days after I threw my most recent copyrighted music project into the United States mail from the small rural post office on the White horse Pike, down the street from the Mullica Township Police Station, where I thought they were going to take me and make me vanish on Jimmy Leeds Road near route 561 that day, it is all on the old original blogs at www.blogger.com/ this same blog except without the added URL address of the word ‘continues’. The first two digits count on any number of days being examined in something for sake of the GAWNUM, and the 366 days from Halloween Day until the next Halloween Day falling on a Leap Year, not that it would matter, as in either case, the root digit of 36, the magic 36, always the 36, as in Avenues, and where Real Good Girls may someday come to reside. But tell the great ‘Bohemian Club’ at the Groves of KALIFORNIA, that I am nowhere near done examining these Redfield/Arista ‘coinkeedinks’, YO. First, there is the factor of the malevolent verses the benevolent coincidence. Redfield’s ones are for the most part the good and kind ones where we can see symbolic truths and learn how the entire world indeed is connected up all together, read his fantastic books, especially the 1997 book he wrote called, “The Celestine Vision”. I need not say another thing here other than spell out this great new-age author’s full name, James Redfield, huh Stacey Casino? 880880880880880880880880880. Play That Music, lovely one_______________________, why not Tony. This may make a little more sense on the website at blogger, than at WordPress, they do not do my blogs in copied font style in color automatically, and I am not into knowing how to set up all the dials and gismos of this new age world yet, Jack President Technical McCoy. Yes, as your friend Whitney would put it so well and still does in many parallel universes, IWALU, BEG. I just do not enjoy it when she is bad and threw me in that huge beach hole. Anyway, moving on, this movie was terrific, and I had absolutely bloody shoe no clue that this was ever made back in the middle twenty-ohs. My mind was blown away last night, YO. Now Mister Hawking, just how did you know about my experience on the final day of September in 2008, involving the road trip with my son in law up to Boston, and then his visit to his friends at the BB Team in NYC, and then back to Philly where we saw the huge parade go down, clear as a bell, 31 days before it occurred in this parallel universe, old physics genius? Just what do you know about me, and for that matter, my daughter, and have you known about this all along, with Wolf and Trump? I used to think that scientists were nice people, but unless this is one powerful huge coincidence, I see the Stray Cats Arista deal here, Mizz Carpenter, and by the way, I made 4 units last night after experiencing a major freaking horrendous death siege all day yesterday, Sunday, and yes, I screwed up, and I printed the heading of the previous-880-blog-population, as SATURDAY, so as the church choir might sing, my precious-871-memories, may be a little in the league these days of President Waterston. Wow, is this all really happening, I mean, really, I am left to ponder sometimes, just what IS REAL, the gentiles or the Hebrews? Gawky Gaukauk, you truly are one hell of a kitty cat, and it is miraculous that I am able to reach your frequency, after months and months of CHEMTRAIL SIEGE. This normally kills the ability to hit high notes or make cat sounds. This is why the planet has to know on the first, and just days from now, that this is all no joking matter. Maybe I will dance in the ocean and prove that more people have major fights and shouting matches with their mothers, than you would like to believe there, Miss Abbey Lovely Carmichael Snoots. We cannot all be so perfect there, but I still love your opinion on coincidences sweety-pie. So really, Steve, just how did you know so much about me, as this movie seems to prove that you do? In case you need a brush up physics lesson, let me give you one, my good friend, strumming gee-tars and all, YO. Hyperspace effect is the lesson for today. Let us make it simple and say there are only ten parallel universes, and we are one of them, so there is us, and nine others ones. Now in five of these ten, things begin to happen that lead Zeranniss Jones Worldlabber (7U5G3L9K) to work at the World Labs of Westmont, New Jersey in the middle late 22^nd century, and in three others, there is no 7U5G3L9K living in the 22^nd century but in other locations ahead of or before this time, we now focus on the two parallel worlds where water may begin to seek its own fifth dimensional level and attempt to always get closer and closer to a 5^th dimensional merge which of course never has the needed time to get around to happening, keeping these hyperspace dimensions always separate. Suddenly at the age of ten, in one of these, as a child, 7U5G3L9K is hit by an air bus that crashes. This now leaves one chance, so things grow atomically stronger that attract the remaining boy to now come to live nearer to the location. Things start happening where an old friend is coincidentally run into and he is now a professor who talks him into getting a degree and working at this location. The closer things are, they act as gravitons do, and start pulling with more force, only they are pulling tiny subatomic numbers together so as to force exact matching combinations, which cause in a post-atomic-size world, events to occur. The solidity or slippery world all merges with these tiny particles that are actually numerations, and there is a program above the thought realm in the 7^th dimension that forces things to all work certain ways. I have only told a small amount of stuff on my blogs over the past six or so years now. You of all peeps, Steve, know it is all the truth, and that part of me here, is also aware and awake with a part of me up there at World Labs. Still, there is more going on than tiny particle numerations that exist just beyond the zero-dimensional void, and the programmed forces that cause things to circulate and match up based on the 6^th dimensional thought energy transmissions sliding down into the virtually limitless 5^th dimensional hyperspace, but this is for other times and places, huh skywriter Donna-89? If I mistook your identity, I am sorry, but who is now doing all of this? I don’t see you writing music about Jason or WFMU Radio. By the way, best of luck to your lovely daughter, with her music project. Rock on girl, or dance on, or as the congressman said it while singing in Pileggi’s band in 1975, so well, or whatever. MEOW-GAGA. WHAAAAAAAA.

 

END ILLUSION, even if we never knew just how much we all had in 1983.

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 0339

SAFE JOURNAL,CHAPTER 0339

1:58 PM-EST, SATURDAY SIEGE, SOSO-WEIN

19 FEBRUARY, 2012

THE EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION,

FOLLOWING CASSETTE VERSIONS 1,2, AND 3 FROM

1988 AND 1989, ALL © MORIANITY AND MOUNTAINPEN

THE MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME

MORIANITY-PROJECT CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES

© 2006-2012 MARK WAYNE MOHR

ALL WORDS ON MY BLOGS ARE SWORN TRUTHS,

ON THIS TAKEN BY ME, VOLUNTARY OATH OF HONOR.

BLOG SUBTITLE NUMBER FOUR:

“YOU’LL BE SORRY BEFORE ALL IS SAID

AND DONE OTAMM-SCUM”

 

BEGIN ILLUSION:

 

Yes, every time I go out now, all year long for the most part now it seems folks, it is Chemtrail City, Florida, here in and around the lovely Fort Pierce, cooking in a clouded sun mix here in paradise at about 85 degrees Fahrenheit.

 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMagnesonic, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, YO. WIPE AND AND DESTROY THESE VICIOUS FUCKING SCUM BAG TERRORISTS, AND STOP!!!!!!!!

 

Still, it really began shy of Christmas, blowing away my long awaited plan to record the same nice Christmas music that played in the ten year up in fucking Vero beach, Florida, and was all changed around, and I got screwed out of it all this year, just when I finally had a nice cassette deck all hooked up to the radio. Reception, even up on the sixth floor totally blows, one of many capitalist pig tricks of late 20^th century and into this one, jamming out the good old FM stations and clogging the area with cell shit and military shit, making those old fashion types like me, get crappier and crappier fucking reception, unless we are willing to part with even more of the ‘no money anyway’, that is allowed us poor fucking peeps, who are being kept down without relent and totally mother fucking endlessly impoverished, via controlled secret methods, and done by major players in WOMO, and powerful government conspirator forces that most definitely have lists of who is totally NOT IN ANY WAY EVER ALLOWED TO MAKE IT OR EVEN SURVIVE JUST ABOUT, and then they covertly go on to quietly make us all vanish and disappear; through their murderous body count of black-ops covert terrors, and these same folks call ‘US’ the terrorists for just screaming out a little bit for help, and my real true point here today is that my enemies are back in full mother fucking swing, where they persecute the living fucking ass ‘shyit’ out of me all the time, BUT-374, especially on the fucking HELLIDAY-HOLIDAY TIMES, being all the three day holiday fucking weekends such as this Presidents ?day, and all of the others as well, it is really back on a death kill fucking hyper time ass vengeful roll, peeps, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

I learned as a boy of about age ten, that animals can be telepathically communicated with,m if they desire to waste their time on mundane things such as going along for a short while with such things as playing our silly games in the world of ‘human affairs’. You must mimmick their sound that they mjake, and whilke doing it, think to them, don’t speak out loud. Then when they speak back, hear them in your mind by wanting to, and with the ferver and desire to make it happen, such as just as any man not dead or Viagra dependent yet knows fully well, if a beautiful naked girl jumps all over him, loving him madly, you do not have to really TRY and be having a great time, you are simply doing it. I learned somewhere between 46 and 48 years ago while living in a garden apartment complex and having neighbor friends my age with pet dogs and birds and cats and gerbils and so forth, that indeed this was real and more than just possible, but nobody else had a clue, and I was smart enough to keep it that way, Sarah Partyfive Ghostalker Jennifer. We had a cat named Bojo, a big lovely jet black cat. One day I meowed at Bojo and looked at him and said to him with my mind while I was meowing, that I was going to come over and kick him. He meowed back at me and I heard in my mind, “That’s what you think you blow hard”, abnd instantly he chased me, and I ran into my apartment, this happened, it was real, it UIS-REAL. All the fucking shit in my crazy outlandish mother fucking life, from secret  daughters to talking lottery cats, to moving in five dimensions and getting buried in a large beach hole by a dead lady the other night after she and some friends robbed me and started to drive away in a big beach-doon buggy. GA is outside my building, curled up at the rear doors leading out to the parking lot, opposite Avenue B. I was out getting screwed at fucking K-Mart, they sold me some insurance on headphones and would not honor it because I did not save the box. The man at the electronics department where I purchased them around my birthday somewhere late last year, told me I only needed my credit card that was used to make the purchase, this was not the case, as he did not tell me this is for 30 days, and after this time, I will need both a receipt, as well as a box in perfect condition. They do not really plan on honoring those extended warranty insurance deals, I should know after Radio shack back in Hammonton, New Jersey, screwed me out of my proper and right money on more than one occasion until I quit buying headphones there all together as a result, and went to a high end electronic store like Circuit mother fucking ass City. Chemtrails are climbing all over me and have the sky so filled up that the entire day has turned into one ugly giant mess of sky pollution with a mix of various ugly gray and dark gray color, ugly as mother fucking sin itself, squared. When I returned back at my PHA Building, GAGA was there all curled up, and I pet him and talked to him normally because other folks were there sitting on benches, but then I got bolder and meowed at him on his frequency, wow, and with the chemtrails, and high ends suffering on voices as a result, that was quite a feat, but moving on here and not harping on these heels that I’d love to shove my shoe up their ass; I inwardly asked Gawky Whitepaws, why on Friday night did the cards give me PC-number-231, when I asked what this weekend would be mostly about with me? My mind instantly heard him tell me that he is Gawky Gaukauk and has been sent to watch over me down here in Florida. The ASPCA took him away, and he escaped and came back here, he told me. I know for a fact that there was indeed a large stray cat round up, don’t get too excited there you crooks over at Arista records from 1981, YO. After this initial ‘catversation’ between Ga and me, and I asked him why my daughter would do anything mean to me, I heard him meow but my brain also heard loud and clear, “What, she is the only one with PCN-231?, you silly butt wipe you”. I asked him who else had these numbers and was behind my demise and death siege this weekend and for so long now this horrible year and starting since last autumn really, and he meowed the answer and I was able to clearly mentally hear a voice say, “How about your wonderful pals, Donald Trump, and Frank Callio, for starters, ya’ dummy”?

 

I just could not wait to come up to my fucking ass apartment and share this powerful shit with the world, YO so there, GET THAT EVERYBODY???????????????????

 

Lowlife Bobby Brown stole my song in 1989, and changed the style of it and made it sound the way I used to tell David Roth through a bugged telephone, the way I actually sang this tune at my job at the Mars Graphic Services Company, of Westville, New Jersey, back while employed there in the print bindery in 1977. I see you are the same lowlife today after all these years, you mother fucking loser crack head jack off, you. First, you make a crackhead out of your poor wife, it was not the chemtrails that fucked that voice up in later years, it was your rotten crack pal. Then you go to the Newark funeral last night and cause trouble with an all ready barieved family, you are one sick piece of twisted shit monster, and I am too white unfortunately to be able to call you other names. My third granny being darker than the ace of spades won’t cut it when I look the way that I do. Still, every 6 generations according to biologists, huh Maury. Well, enough said about ass holes and pricks for one fucking blog, YO. Fuck the world. Spell Checker on this cheap system is no help with spelling the word for saddened, sorry, I know it is fucking misspelled, YO. Shame the fuck on you BB, you big ugly worthless druggie turd!

 

My phone will be off-hook until I get up to go to work on Tuesday morning. I’ll hear from you sometime after this PP, as I have a lot to tell you, but in the mood I am in right now, you would not even want to talk to me, I am a real mother fucker right now, and more than insects really do seem to run in my incredible wild total family, huh TWC and Jenny Love H? I hate all my distant cousins, even my first ones, they;re all a bunch of stuck up rich fucking bums, screw them. I stay to my fucking self, screw the fucking world. I hate everybody and everything, I am persecuted and harassed day and night for something I never even have done, or if I have done it Laura Mary Petry Moore, stop whining and telling me that I know what it is, that annoyed the living fucki8 out of me on the DVD TV SHOW back in the middle sixties, as much as I could pop wood looking at lovely Mary!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

If peeps do not like my blogs when I need to vent and am in a bad mood, I do not understand why they keep reading them, it is like thiose morons who keep watching some shit on TV and complaining. Once I see a show is ridiculous and an offense to my intelligence, OFF IT FUCKING GOES, POOGF, do this with my blogs folks, I promise you it’s painless and quick, and I’;; also promise that to stop my words, you’ll have to fucking KILL ME!!!!!!!!!

 

SO YOU WANNA’ PLAY CHEMTRAIL, with me, do you, WOMOTAMM? Fine; but you all ready have an idea I’m quite positive; what’s coming as the next month rears its head. Please remember it is your fault that this all will go down after I post it up, not mine. You forced my hand with all this nightmare shit you’re fucking ass doing to innocent poor fucking me, you sick twisted diseased jerk off dirt bags. Despite all this hell, Mariloo Carpenter and her wonderful 34-RS is kicking dynamite fucking ass, YO. I always knew there was powerful magic in the numbers of 3 and 4. 3+4=7. 3X4=12. 12 and 7 are two incredible powerful biblical freaking numbers. No Scylla, I did not forget how to care, and I do know that Love Is For Carpenters, and I am the one that taught the great Foreigners and other ‘aliens’ many ‘hidden’ things, as 1980 does precede 1985, or am I in error here Bruce Allen Pennock. If so, let my wonderful kid know, she might need a laugh later on. Please do not be too mad at me for the post that is coming soon, they really did leave me no BC choice, huh Roseann Delaney???????????????? I did not forget how to care, BEG, I just totally forgot. Ask your pal Lenny, wow Trump Troup how can Dick and his crew know all these things about me without the two of you getting together and comparing notes, wow, am I really so dam iomportant, do the 1982 experts still agree, Icabod? Shyit folks, this is totally fucking Mack Kaiter absurd, or is it just Lester ass ridiculous there cuzz? So where really is the rest of the news, MISTER PAUL HARVEY? Want it, really, sure you do, in a pigs prick you do, you couldn’t handle my truths if you were standing in a phone booth with five naked goddesses giving you heaven on Earth simultaneously.

 

The gods, don’t lie to yourselves, BRAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How can peeps handle the Pope Himself coming to the church next to the house where I was SK in late in oh-M-8? How can you handle 100 varying stories of pants not going down to my shoes that I could tell while sworn under an oath in a court of law, without fear? Hay I know RL wouldn’t give you that BJ in the construction trailer that day, but the cover up on the beach jetty in SHNJUSAESMWG, had major 5^th dimensional hyperspace effects, as all things do in various ways and degrees. Patterson and his pal Elv, yeah, what secrets aren’t being kept by the great SP of New Jersey, YO? The gods, do I dare even type on a few more things, or should I take my moms good advice and keep my eyes and ears open, my nose clean, and my big stupid ass fucking mouth SHUT for crissake, YO?

 

World, you will see the wildest weather to strike this globe in 1000 years, once I post this up, so I really hope that ‘they’ know what they’re doing, YO.

 

END ILLUSION, DUDES AND DUDDESSES.