SAFE JOURNAL, KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 180

SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 180

DATFILE: CH-180-063011.362

THURSDAY
MORNING, ENDING

DAY
OF FIRST HALF OF 2K11

TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995/4TH
SUB:

“NIGHTMARES
SQUARED, WITHOUT

TPB’S
RASPBERRY VALLEY”

WORLD LABS OF 2297, SEND-BACK-TEXT

COPYRIGHTED
© BLOGS

OF
MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2011

PROTECTED
LEGAL INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY

CONTAINED
IN MANY OF THESE BLOGS OF

MORE
THAN FIVE YEARS, CLAIMS BEING

ADVISED
AND NOTICE OFFICIALLY GIVEN

 

BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:

 

I
WENT TO BED AROUND ONE OR TWO, AND GOT UP AROUND JUST SHY OF 7 THIS
MORNING. I HAD SOME WILD AND MAJOR INTERACTIONS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF
THE BED, THAT I WILL TRY AND TELL A LITTLE BIT ABOUT RIGHT NOW, BACK
ON THIS SIDE OF THE BED. FIRST OFF, A BED DOES NOT FLIP AROUND AS WE
ALL KNOW, AND UNDERNEATH IT IS MERELY A FLOOR, NOT ANOTHER WORLD. BUT
SMART PEEPS KNOW TOTALLY THAT NOTHING IS REALLY REAL EXCEPT FOR THE
VOID INFINITY, ALSO KNOWN AS EWI OR THE BLOOMBERG RIPOFF OF THE JESSE
FOOTBALL YEARS, AND OUT FROM THIS TOTAL NOTHINGNESS, COMES A CREATED
FORCE THAT USES THE POWER OF MOVING FROM LESS THAN NOTHING INTO
NOTHING, AS A LIMITLESS LAUNCHING PAD, INTO A BRAND NEW EXISTENCE AND
INTO A TOTALLY NEW CLOSED CURVE INFINITY, BEYOND THE ONE JUST ESCAPED
FROM.

 

I
am not shouting despite internet protocol, merely making a gargantuan
point in my first paragraph, so that these following paragraphs get
your attention a little better, hopefully anyway. I was minding my
own business and lost my waking world awareness before even shutting
down my television and putting away a snack that I was eating, and
fell into a very surreal and major vivid, dreaming experience and
interaction. My daughter PEE, as she always has insisted on being
called by this nickname that she gave to herself as a very small
child, was about sixteen years old, and it was early in October in
the year of 2014, as a calendar that was circled, was visually
hanging from a bright yellow wall in a corridor that resembled her
detention center, only it was different as well, as was not a
detention center, but a college dorm. She was a co-ed, and had a
boyfriend that she seemed to like quite well, and I did not like him
all that much, but what father ever approves of his daughter’s
boyfriends? Paula King Junior, or Pee, was there with him, and I also
was there, and remember the layout of 3 rooms, a corridor, and could
describe details perfectly to a police detective or investigator with
no trouble whatsoever, as it was this vivid and clear. I could
describe both my daughter and the boy, the only thing that if I was
privy of, that no longer remains in my conscious world memory, would
be the name of the boy that she was tight with. He was slender and
athletic in appearance with sandy blond hair, just over six feet
tall, wearing bright colored clothes, neatly arranged hair of average
college length for today’s times, and had a very unusual speaking
voice that is a bit difficult to describe, almost robotic, as though
the dude was a constructed android from the future, lacking the
science fiction television show android ‘Data’ on TNG-Star Trek’s
sophisticated normally sounding human type of voice. My daughters’
physical beauty is beyond description, and all though she is stunning
at twelve for a child, had indeed blossomed into young womanhood and
would most definitely make a heavenly angel, jealous and angry of her
unfathomable goddess-like beauty, and awesome power. The two of them
were debating a word that sounded very similar to the World war Two
event known as the Comocosi Pilots who intentionally crashed their
fighter jets into the American Aircraft Carrier Transport Ships. It
was a word sounding like the word Comocosi, spelled the gods only
know how and not recognized by Spell-Checker, as WW-2 will not be
either given one or two centuries obviously, in this absurdly fast
moving paced society of ours, however, it was not exactly this word,
and my daughter pronounced it for me, and never told me the meaning
of it, and then the two of them continued debating this while I went
straight ahead into a room from the ending corridor, and they went
from a room from the left, into a room that was off to the right, all
lit up bright and very colorfully. After a time, I came to learn that
I was in a very non-localized parallel universe where it was a few
years ahead in time as well, and that in this part of the hyperspace,
I was not Pee’s father, only a friend of the family. A short while
later, I was invited, along with my mother, to a party at this
college, and we showed up, and it was suddenly two or maybe as much
as 3 or 4 days later, but no more. There were name tags near a table
where we were all supposed to sit down at, only they had not been put
up yet, and I remember asking how the seating arrangements were
supposed to be, and my mother made a mean nasty comment, and then
told me practically to sit down anywhere, and shut up. I was aware in
the self here dreaming through this hyperspace doppelganger-me, that
she had been making many very biting remarks at me throughout the
day, and I was growing quite angry about it. I remember turning to
her where she was sitting on a love seat next to a friend of hers who
also was sitting on another loveseat or small couch that was almost
but not quite the twin of the one my mother was on, and I chose any
old spot around this dinner table that was very large but not banquet
sized, and once I was seated, I turned to her, and looked right at
her, and said this exact thing to her, “Mom, do you have any idea
how much I would give if you just had picked one less time in your
life to have sex with my dad, precisely 53 years ago”. My mind
seemed to know, over there, that I had just turned age 52 years and 3
months of age, and since 9 months is the average human time for
making a baby, we all know what this very cutting counter remark of
mine to my mother, was all about. She then began to cry like a little
baby, and before she broke down, an expression of agonizing pain
came over her face that was inconceivable. Every facial muscle
involved in making a face displaying torture in either the mind or
the body, was transfixing her normal face into an almost hideous one,
contorted and twisted and wrinkled from the extreme emotional
heartbreak and excruciating painful emotions, that were obviously
surging through her entire beingness. She began balling loudly and
sobbing in a totally unrelenting way, and I never saw anyone in my
entire life in all of my remembered experiences of all of my
hyperspace travels, ever cry this passionately, convulsively, and
lengthy. It just continued to go on and on and on and on. But let me
stop the description of this very unpleasant agonizing nightmare now,
and look at the two opposing time references. Originally, before the
party, I was in a place where my daughter had recently reached the
age of sixteen years, which takes place on September the 29^th,
in 2014.  But at the party, that she and her boyfriend had invited
both my mother and myself to, I remember distinctly being age 52
years and 3 months old, meaning it was early in March in the year of
2008. This was the beginning of my 70-day off-line period, just
mentioned on my previous blog, SJ-CH-179, posted up yesterday about
20 minutes or so before the closing bell on Wall Street at 4 PM-EDST.
So first, I am in early 10^th month in 2014, and then find
myself at this party, back in the first week in month 3, in 2008.
Both times are roughly 39 months away from the present, only first it
is ahead in time by this amount, and then it is backward in time by
this amount, leaving the present time dead set in the very middle of
all of this wild shit. I also came to learn that in this particular
universe, Pee never tried to kill the large African-American New
Jersey State Police Trooper who shot me dead in the back in another
parallel universe, when she would have been a small child of about 7
or 8 years, and was sentenced, and sent to the Egg Harbor, New
Jersey, ‘Harborfields’ Detention Center, on Route 561, a place
existing for a very long time, right here in this part of the
hyperspace; and this exact atomically matching universe in
hyperspace, and visited often by, and connected with and through;
many powerful New Jersey law enforcement persons, that all are
somehow connected with it, and all entangled with the many powers to
be, in Atlantic City, including the EX-Mayor Robert Levy, married to
Ethel Levy, whose distant cousin is a distant cousin to Mariah
Carey’s paternal grandfathers 3^rd cousin twice removed.
This is quite a distant family relation, yet always remember, this
world is asking a lot of me when they tell me to chalk up as a silly
coincidence, the 20 year recurring dream of this Egg Harbor School
for no apparent reason whatsoever, and named the same name as the
actual Suffolk County, New York, high school where Mariah Carey
graduated from in 1987, and hopefully after taking some very good
advice given to her by an older boy, my-my and gee-whiz-RGG, I wonder
who, © Examiners? People are asking me to buy into a lot more wild
coincidences than the television show called, “Law and Order”
ever expects their ADA’s and their prosecutors, to buy into; as how
many times is what I say here confirmed in that show, just in the
three personalities of ADA Serena Sutherland, ADA Abbey Carmichael,
and ADA and later turned top dog DA, MISTER Jack McCoy, himself, YO?
It really is not fair, but then world, Jim Burr said to me one day a
statement that I’ll obviously take to my mother freaking grave, and
this being, “Mark, it isn’t a fair world”, another 1983 footnote
to be 2011 inserted, into the Blogs of mountainpen, BRAHHHH!!!!!!!

 

I
know that the man at work yesterday told me what he told me, this is
no dream, and I am not confusing dimensions, or you might see it as
‘dreams with real life’, due to lack of proven science in this time
period regarding hyperspace, exploratronic sciences,
controlled-dreaming; and the circuitry and system, that drives all of
these things, and lays well hidden, all behind the mighty invisible
OZCS.

 

Well
Dawn King passed into waking truth and away from this dream on New
Years Day, Sarah is in a nursing home forever with seizures, Mayor
Whaelon is hospitalized following a nasty stroke, Mayor Levy
destroyed his own life with substance abuse and pain  killers
following his back surgery, and one by one, this great family, is
falling. I am not against them as a unit, as when looked at in the
large full tree that I have stretched out on my dining room table,
this total population out to about 7 cousins, comprises about 2,840
persons, and naturally, they are not all out to get me, as why would
they be? But playing just a little ordinary Google game tells the
truth about how to wrap this entire thing up, as one close in member
to all of this problem with me, is indeed the one, who always had the
interest in things of a supernatural nature, and IMHO, has somehow,
for reasons known only to this great soul, planned all of this, right
down to the non-chance encounter I had in 1986 in Manhattan.

 

Nice
hearing from you PP, yes, I will most definitely take your advice,
and am glad you gave it to me, as what could I know about this, and
after-all, you personally experienced it. I’m very sorry that these
bastard doctors put you in so much pain . You personally know how
they mishandled my mother and her mysterious and totally unknown
medical condition in 1998 right after we met and shortly before we
started up Studio Park Records. Paula is behind all of it, and I was
only getting a shoe in the doorway back when I thought distant cousin
Sarah Callio was the prime ingredient in all of this, or the
mysterious teen of my past. I think the entire world has realized
that maybe the great Lisa Dyfis is right after-all, with her nasty
accusations of me. It corresponds with the last time for me up there
to visit my Huntington/Gottwald relatives. Yes MI’s wonderful mom, my
elusive teen, wow, and Misses Bassler wanted me to write the greatest
ghost story book in the world back in 1997. Well, maybe I will
someday, called ‘BOB-3’. After-all, the BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN already
twin out to BOB-2, YO. Paul, this is big, study it all carefully, and
don’t come to any hasty conclusions. Then we can seriously talk man
to man, about music, the industry; and why I refuse to sell my soul
to the proverbial devil, just to be played, and receive money. I’d
rather work making donuts in the morning, and keep the cops awake; so
they’ll be alert and catch the crooks that endanger my life every
single day. But yes, I can’t wait to hook up, so if you are reading
this today, my phone will be on-hook both today and tomorrow, late in
the afternoon, and I’ll make it a point to be home. Gimme a call, and
we will really catch up on some big shit. We can go as far as you
wanna go, and when you say stop, we’ll stop, no prob. But you do need
to know that I work directly with rappers with real street cred and
real connections, and I am here to tell you, I want no parts of the
music industry, ever again, NONE. Still, I am in a poker game with
the forces of this world, PP, and it may appear soon that I am trying
something, but it’s only to prove my civil rights have been violated
all of my life, so that I’ll be able to hire the best attorney out of
Harvard Law and sue literally for billions in damages, I do have lots
of proof that both of us were messed with, and stopped, but I am not
here to convince you of anything, so we will just have a nice fun
talk. Go Phillies, talk to you soon bud!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Be
good everybody, it will pay off!

 

END
TWANSMISSION, WABBIT, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

 

 

SAFE JOURNAL, CH. 179

SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 179

KING
GARBAGEMAN

TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995

4TH
SUBTITLE OF BLOG:

“TONYWOOD,
CHINESE GIRLS,

GOLDSTEIN’S
AND GOLDBERG’S”

COPYRIGHTED
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPUKE

 

BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:

 

Some
huge ass mother fucking bastard is playing a nightmare game of
horrors with me, and very soon, MANY FUCKING PEOPLE’S EXPIRATION DATE
WILL HIT. You think this is funny do you, well, laugh on, as your
blood turns into a small flowing river.

 

Too
much is happening, as well as too much shit that’s just too
unbelievable, to even try and tell or blog. 97-99% of the time,
things are no different than the lives of most peeps. It is the 1-3%
that is so mother fucking outlandishly unfathomable, that is being
made reference to in these words here. I never said that a lot of my
shit could not read like “Beaver Cleaver’s famous diary, up to the
point of his exaggerations of fakeness. I merely contend that
in-between all of the ‘went to school’, ‘fed the stray cat’, and
‘came back home’ stuff, we would insert some major shit, and it would
not be one bit phony or fake, BEVE. So while you and good old ‘Wolly’
crunch and munch down your cold cereal in 1983, let me tell you that
I too was eating my cereal along with you guys, only it is what
happens after this on many days while my address was 134 Norris
Avenue, Atco, New Jersey, USAESMWG, that caused top secret US
government agencies to take my telephone offline for an hour or more
while I was at my eye doctor out in Narberth, Pennsylvania, USAESMWG,
and do a lot more fucking shit than refer to my automobile as the
“Blue Nunngan”, whatever secret code word that stands the mother
fuck for, YO.  Oh well, at least they didn’t talk about the Blue
Parrot out into negative space by the hexnumer light-year, or about
96.13 trillion fucking miles.

 

Before
we get into a short story today, let me give a few examples of these
potential insertions. How about in-between going to work or school,
depending on the age difference, our little old dear diary would
receive an entry such as, ran into a man who insisted that he did not
pull out of his work-jacket, yesterday, three carpet knives, and
showed them too me and offered to let me borrow one to cut a carpet
that I have, when I see him tomorrow, and this was yesterday, only
now, the dude says, “Do you dream in color
too?”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is a fucking church going
religious man  who I would legally vouch for under oath as a man who
would not tell me a lie or make up a story, unless perhaps under the
sufficient deres to make any of us do such a thing as say for an
example, his recently kidnapped daughter, who will be slowly killed
if he did not lie. Sorry folks, even I’m not paranoid enough to
believe some BFA (Black File Agency) is doing this, hay, I could
always be wrong and believe it or not, actually be under paranoid.
Somehow though folks,. I doubt this quite tremendously, and this
should help to verify to my readership, that I am sane and rational,
despite a powerful and totally unexplainable story that’s seemingly
going on around me, and has been since a lovely goddess in 1980, sang
as very special song to me, by the name of “Love Is fir
Carpenters”, while asleep in as mother fucking dream, and yes in
major ass color, with full bigger than life sound!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then instead of just petting a stray cat, how about permitting me to
add that I set up the great Google, in a similar way that I set up
the great Arista record Company early in the mother fucking
nineteen-eighties, and they ripped off a song from me and the way it
was done was also used in the idea and promotion of this song, and
the name of this magnetic song, RESORTSD HOTEL, is called, “ROCK
THIS TOWBN”, YO, Boston Pops, the MET, and the great Philharmonic’s
Fred Hinger, all notwithstanding, BRAHH. Oh well, there’s some puss
and plus out of this day, SPEKLL WRECKER CHECKER doesn’t even
recognize your mighty record label, Clayton Smith and the
Asshole-Gang of morons and
cheaters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So now, BEVE, I
Cleave, to my next insertion. Before writing on my dear-diary life
journal, after petting the stray cat, or really what happened
pertaining to STRAY CATS, now before we write in, came back home, let
me say that I could say quite a few things. Some of these things
would fucking include seeing the same chopper that messes with me
quite often, some bitch from Workforce giving me her fucking lip and
attitude at the time clock, for nothing at all, as she stepped
totally out of line, and then gave me shit for jumping her. I told
her that she could most gladly have her place back, and that I did
not mean to jump in front of her. She is a very fucking evil and
nasty person, and also is a good friend of the guy in my ugly recent
nightmare, who in this horrendous mother fucking-ass nightmare, was
my boss back at Cifaloglio; and his quote to me, after picking me up
physically, and threatening violence on me, in the dream; was, “You
never really liked me”. In truth, I have bent over backwards to
always assist this dude at work. His pal, was the thug from
Smithtown, in SCNY, on Nick’s marching orders; or so I once thought,
but now, and today; a new light has surfaced, causing me to reexamine
and totally fucking reevaluate, as the great disco-diva Donna Summer
used to put it so eloquently back in 1980, all of this entire fucking
mess. Stanley, you have indeed gotten me in to a gigantic horrific
mess, dude!!!!!!!!!

 

Neither
Nick Cannon or Mariah Carey are behind any of this, other than being
related to the one who is, the one who always has been fascinated
with this entire mess from the swing bat, and learned how to master a
powerful secret thing that makes the SECRET that was so big and world
circulated back around the time circa when this all began happening
to me following the games expert coming to my Oaklyn Apartment, and
then the 70-day downline time where I was totally off of the fucking
computer grid, longer even than when I switched my residences from
New Jersey to Florida, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Oh
‘Shidaleedee’ and purple for us all in the fall, Mister Trump. Well,
you have been a thorn in my mother fucking side for a very long time,
and have managed to somehow survive all of my counter-strikes so
perfectly well, with your quite fabulous and charmed life, rotor
blades all notwithstanding. Laugh this one off college boy. I have a
man who will swear in a court of law, several things that you have
done to me, so if we all live to trial date, the entire world is
going to know a lot of shit about all of this, and I cannot promise
to let the mighty TAWF out of it, as they most certainly, are in it,
as are you Donnie Blackboats. Not all of your friends are as loyal as
you might think, you diseased mother fucking jack off. Still,  just
how does this shit, all fit into the Fascitar, and Paula Multiwoman,
and her fascination with me for 50 million years, and how can it all
be totally linked up in with the middle nineties and Morianity? Well
folks, it all fits like a beautiful smooth lovely glove. The joke of
this is that powerful peeps in Washington, DC totally know my entire
nightmare story is real, and has been all along. Some who I now list
can deny it until fucking doomsday, BUT THEY TOTALLY KNOW IT’S ALL
TOTALLY TRUE, so help me Goddess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! These would be:
Congressman Robert Andrews, Admiral Perry, Charles Colson, head of
the NASA Space Agency, top brass in the CIA, NSA, and SS, Joseph
Berrios, Donald J. Trump, Paula B. King (awake and asleep), Robert
McDowell, and the list goes on but is less powerful in NR. Here is a
powerful piece of information for peeps that may choose to endlessly
doubt my words and accuse me of ranting and insanity.

 

Take
a fan with blades and look through it and you will see only the open
space into what is on the other side of the fan. Place it in front of
venetian blinds, and watch how many of the blinds disappear. Mind,
your brain, your thoughts, whatever you think that you are, is on a
carrier wave and a signal that brings this source-mind, to your
individuality that’s trapped inside of a shell or a physical body
that is alive in a so-called space-time continuum, only it goes far
beyond this in truth, as the Wesley Crusher’s and the Gene
Roddenberry’s know fully well. Powerful light amplifies many
realities, even emotions. Police use their lights in a covert unknown
extra ingredient type of way. We all know how when we’re stopped in
the dead of night in contrast with the darkness, how those blinding
flashing colored lights in our rear-view mirror, make our hearts
pound like a bass drum with no help whatsoever from Fred Hinger or
Hal Blaine. Our human physical world memories are the most
susceptible however, to the effect of a strobe-light. Watch the
venetian blinds vanish, and then know that memories are very
delicate, a lot more delicate than your stupid ass venetian fucking
blinds, folks, YO! I could say a lot more, but I knew when I was
fucked with by that nasty ass fire alarm yesterday morning, that lots
of trouble was looming in my near ass horizon, and Stanley was not
gonna be getting me out of this one, only digging me a much deeper
hole and fast.

 

What
pisses me off more than spending eternity in hell with a toothache,
is that a lady in the US Copyright Office could have spared me about
38 months of super grief, and chose instead to keep her mother
fucking mouth shut, and this did far more than get somebody kicked
off of some lousy welfare benefits, WOMO.

 

I
owe you a huge apology, mister Cannon, please try and accept it.
Thank you in advance. Obviously, this is not going to be buried in
the sand, right Mayor Whaelon? Three down, and how many more to go is
kind of up to Mister Hose’s great special daughter, and her Brand New
Whitekey Nurocky, right Estelle Ormund?????????????????

 

END
TRANSMISSION: Forget the WHAAAAAAAAA. I am so not in the fucking mood
today, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!

my entire computer has been hacked and wiped out

don’t be shocked if a thermo nuclear device goes off some place.

SAFE JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO, CHAPTER 178, HI BEAUTIFUL STOBE-LT

SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 178

KING
NEBNOOSHOO

TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995

NO
4TH SUBTITLE TO THIS BLOG

COPYRIGHT
© 2006-2011,

MARK
WAYNE MOHR/MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN

WORLD LABORATORIES OF 2294, SEND-BACK-TEXT

DATE-AND-TIME
FILE: 062611.323.555555555

 

Beginning
Transmission:

 

I
have had the computer messed with for a fifth straight blog session
while posting up my last blog work, SJ-CH-177. My internet explorer
system went down for no reason as soon as I logged onto the freaking
ass internet. The clock was back on earlier time, the address for the
computer matched %#^*% 36^th Avenue, San Mateo, California,
AGAIN. I of course went in the control panel and repaired all of the
reset dials to bring things back to the normal Fort Pierce time,
weather, and e-mail address, matching my true time and residence
locale. This must all be so much fun, huh Road-Trip-Dude. You know
old pal, we did have a pretty cool time that early October, just
before your birthday, on that strange and outlandish road trip, only
you instantly zoomed us both way ahead in time somehow, to more than
three weeks past your birthday, and all the way to the circa of
nearly the Halloween times of 2008, where we first went up to a hotel
in Boston, and later you finished up some private business in the
city, and then we returned back over to Philadelphia, where we saw
the huge World Series Winning Parade for the Phillies Champions. Of
course, I awoke from this wild interaction back in the time I was
part of, and that was in the first week in October, nearly a month
before the actual event took place.

 

I
suffered no heart attack after posting the last blog, and needing to
reset the address and clock for my IP computer address, for the 20^th
plus time now, resulting from the whims of the mighty cannonball; but
I did suffer another wild unexplainable major ass heat-attack. The
air conditioner kept being set lower and lower, and I was perfectly
comfortable at first when it was set at about 79 degrees, ranging it
to operate automatically, running a one or two degree tolerance
around that setting. I however, suddenly felt the overwhelming need
to lower and lower this temperature setting, and was profusely
sweating at the setting of 72 degrees. After a while, my body
recovered from whatever force had fucking struck it; and I am now
barely comfortable at a somewhat normally chilly 72 degrees. Except
in the brightest 4 hours or so of the middle later afternoon and
early evening, the 79 degree setting is all I need to maintain a good
level of physical comfort, but when these unexplainable heat-attacks,
strike me peeps, it is like a woman, at that ‘time of monthly life’.
I seem to magically be coming out of this surreal heat-attack, again,
like the one that I blog-reported quite recently, during another
blog’s dictation on the word processor system, but will maintain the
current air conditioner settings, for a while yet; before starting to
slowly raise them up a bit.

 

Yes
yesterday blew me away folks. First I added up my new LIDMOLB GAWNUM
NUMBERS, or shortened we will refer to them from now on as (LGN).
These numbers tell powerful stories and messages, by working out
their simple LGNT, or TOTALS. For an example, MY LGN=581. Now
Mariah’s LGN=521. Totaling these figures up brings us the answer sum
of 1102. While discussing how Gawky Gaukauk showed me at the Carey
house in 1975, the GAWNUM GAS FORMULA, while I had been somehow taken
there in my ‘sleep’ abducted from the Marhouse of Blueberryville, New
Jersey, also referred to as, Sir Prince, the Blueberry World Capitol,
and called officially on the New Jersey, USAESMWG maps, as HAMMONTON.
Only one blog talks about the GASV GAWNUM EQUATION, on October the
5^th in the year of 2008. But also in this blog, is a major
error on my part, where I say I am the king of the wusses, and should
have answered my door that day at 506 Robin Hill Apartments, in
Voorhees township, in New Jersey, USAESMWG. Well, adding up my LG#
along with Mariah’s LG# and this would come to 581+521, and this
would naturally equal out to the sum of 1102, the correct apartment,
the one that my blog in error, should have stated was where I lived
when that TPB’ME’ on the roof, knocked on my door, totally insisting
on talking to me right then and there, and warning me, that by my not
opening the door, I will live to regret it for the rest of my life. I
still never opened the door to this strange African American neighbor
lady. I was scared, paranoid, and did not know what I felt inwardly
about what was happening around me, and simply made a judgment call
at the time that appeared to be the most logical and reasonable one
at the time. Bare in mind folks that for about 3 years or so, my life
turned literally upside down, and I was suddenly finding myself under
a wicked and frightening daily major siege, and persecution, whether
outside, or even inside my own private dwelling; as it was a non-stop
fucking relentless hell, literally a covert secretly declared war by
some government agency so secret that it has no letters or ID, and
technically it does not exist, should some miracle ever permit my
blowing a cover off of some operation of theirs, and it sticks; and
the global media would get it out coast to coast and round the world,
before it could be squashed, and silenced; as well as me.

 

It
hit me like lightning about that nightmare after the hack came while
trying to log off a couple of hours back. Remember how I was in a
room that had no visible barriers, yet they were somehow just known
to be there. You’ve just about all had dreams of similarity. So don’t
bother lying either to me or to yourself. You know, you just know
something is reality, in a dream, like you just know in this waking
dream, that should you walk into a police station waving a gun, and
ranting that you are about to hurt some people, even before one thing
escalates against you and your situation, unless you are totally as
dumb as jello, you just know that you are now about to begin to have,
most likely; one of, if not thee worst days, of your entire life. But
back to the room, and Nick, telling me some horrible shit. I honestly
forget the entire beginning to this nightmare now, it is totally gone
from my memory, but I did blog it, so if I ever want to force the
memory to return of this, consciously; all I need to do is to simply
access the older blog on my site.

 

Back
now to the newest and third part of the GAWNUM STUDIES. All things
always pertain to the root of the 81 numbers, this is a universal
non-changing constant. The simple rule is to work out the gas
equation, then the normal private cosimcoded number, and from here,
three digits are picked in a sort of counter-clockwise order, and
here is how this works, it is not complex at all, just listen up and
learn, folks, YO. Here is an example used on the blog where I talk
about my Astral-Travels to the Carey home in 1975, and saw MC trying
to show me her powerful magical strobe-light, and every time that her
father turned his back for a quick time, and she was able to get me
to see it, before he turned in the direction of the strange hallway
that resembled a closet,again, and towards us; she would deactivate
the light and smirk at him, but he knew, and he took it away from her
and did not follow the advice of then quite famous, Doctor Spock. But
let me get back to what he said later on directly to me about this
numerological system, that in its origin; was not all that different
from what his wife was showing me on a bus outside a bar somewhere in
Philadelphia, in the summertime or early autumn somewhere, in 1980,
while he was on her lap, and meowing over and over again, only the
word “DIE” was clearly being meowed. This is what he said.

 

First
he had all ready shown me before this wild interaction, the PCN
alpha-numeric way of getting normal and regular Private Cosmicoded
Numbers, such as mine which is PCN-871. Then the secret of the GAS
Equation was revealed to me, explained in the early October oh-eight
blog, where we add digits one and two together, instead of the other
way where we ere subtracting them, in order to arrive at the digit-3.
But to get an answer, a one-time answer, or maybe better said, not so
much an answer, as a revelation to a pertinent event or situation, It
is no longer early Sunday morning by the way. It is half past five in
the evening. I fell dead asleep at this computer for a very long
time. I’ve awakened to more of SSJK’s strobe-light, the skies are
dark, lovely flashing lightning is here so near to me, and I love my
strobe-light, and my SSJKK way beyond even that in ways just not
speakable. I just asked HER in my mind, where are you, and SHE
flashed off to my left in the west, a luscious pink white lightning
flash. I LOVE YOU SO, SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KRASSLE, my endless lovely
teenager. SHE heard this too, SHE just blinded me with a
thunder-crashing strobe light filled with lovely colorful blends of
awesome beauty. Bbbbbbbbbbbritofioau. You are beyond beautiful,
LIGHTNING. This is a greater performance than yesterday, my endless
teen love. My machine has been hacked, it will not let me save, and
comes up as a save-error instead of letting me save the document in
the normal way. Whenever I reopen and continue on a document, I
notice this is another hack I fucking get from the mighty ass
Lattisaw Jack-Attack gang of illegal civil rights violator hackers.
Lightning is making colors so beautiful that I am literally crying,
but must now concentrate on completing not my Privecode call, but my
word document blog SJ-CH 178. The regular PCN, then the CGN, or
Cosmic-Gas-Number, are both written down based on the root, and there
are as you should know by now Mister Joel, 81 roots, from 11-99, in
math-base-9. So using the 53-ROOT, or as I love to call it, the
ANGEL-CODE, the PCN is 532, the CGN is 5308, and the LDMOLB-NUMBER
becomes the end right digit CGN, followed by the starting left digit
CGN, followed by the far right digit of the PCN. This now gives us
the LN-852. My LN when added up with SSJK’s human life LN, or my 581
plus HER 521, equals 1102. The revelation that this tells is that I
screwed up on my blog where I tell about being in HER house and SHE
showing me HER strobe-light, and I said later on the blog that it was
506 Robin Hill Apartments where I met the ME ENTITY as told in the
book I wrote in 1994, © registered, “The Permission Barrier. This
happened not in #506, but in Apartment Number 1102. This LN system
adds the two LN together, but unlike doing comparisons with totals to
see if any digits match up with both of the numbers used making up
this total, with this, we do this to learn a hidden truth, in the
very number of the answer, in this case the sum answer of 1102,
showing me that I screwed up in that nearly three year old blog by
saying Apt. #506. This machine is being super hacked, and since this
storm may worsen, I better post since I cannot save until I get
somebody over here tomorrow to help me with all this hacking fucking
shit, ROBERGT MCDOWELL, SIR, thanks for not helping me, it is real
bad for me right now buddy, and HAS BEEN, YO!!!!!!!!!!

 

END
TRANSMISSION, MAGNESONIC HELP ME, MMMMMMMMMM. STOP.

 

 

 

KING NEBNOOSHOO, SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 177, YO

SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 177

WLSBT
DATFILE: CH-177-062611.068

THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME

THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

MORIANITY
PROJECT 1995

“WHAT
ARE THEY TRULY HIDING FOLKS?”

COPYRIGHTED
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2011

PROTECTED
LEGAL INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY

OF MARK WAYNE MOHR/MICHAEL WAYNE MOUNTAINPEN

 

BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:

 

let
us look at a few tiny things lads and lassies and lab dogs, and
future workers. First and in no particular order, we have the
robbe3ry at Friendly Ice Cream in Northeast Philly in Pennsylvania,
USAESMWG, around the time of my ’17-AGAIN’ days, or really, what
caused them. Then we have the GI-FLIES of Haddonwood Swim and Health
Club, Tony Zenun the great man of mystery, the box and chain and
Russell Thaxton in 1969, Paula and her ‘under the boardwalk’ antics
that the EW knew about and made into a song, Bob Patterson Cheatley
at the Medical Institute, large and loud meowing black cats who know
more about mathematics than Albert Einstein and Fred Winstein
combined and squared, choking lightning machines with alien parts,
peeps using me to get born on a minimum of two occasions where one
was physical and another metaphysical although this second word could
be arguable with both situations, and a cool song called HA-HA-WHO.
This is one two-hundredths of a total possible laundry list, and
dirty laundry to boot, shoe, and may we never forget unless helped to
via a strange beautiful flashlight given the name of Dianarteemis,
Mary-Kate Willis Trenton-clubs! In any event, I was looking at the
xzyglukial asapian directional digital bordering system of the
GAWNUM, that only Gawky Gaukauk and Unlimited Driverlicenseholder
Lapbusrider, from 1980; could possibly know about; and beginning to
re-figure the 81, as I’ve named them; Lidmolb Numbers; and low and
behold, this project brought my lovely beautiful strobe-light all
around me within minutes, and SSJK turned on some of the most
beautiful colors I have ever seen. I thought I was going to ejaculate
in my shorts looking out my window. Only SSJK can possibly know what
I’m talking about, all though Michelle’s hubby’s cuzz may too, who
knows? I’m sure entitled to the opinion that“it can be true”,
right Aunt Barbara? Now only top ass hole peeps like DJT and ©
examiners know what’s being said. Unlike you PP, I do copyright all
things I do, immediately, that is until recently, but by affixing the
label and doing it soon, IT IS INDEED COPYRIGHTED. Whether SSJK knows
in human form, or is a sleepwalker like her mother, while here on
Earth, is anyone’s guess, but it was no coincidence, and I felt my
mind being probed, and then instantly out of nowhere, beautiful
lightning is everywhere, OH YEAH, RIGHT!!

 

So
Mister Levitt built communities in not just New Jersey and
Pennsylvania, well, I’ll play along and see if this dude can ‘fix’
things, even water manholes and old Superman shows. Don’t be such a
hater, kid. Anyhow, the simple truth is that I have never lied and
said a bad thing that was untrue, about one single soul, not ever. I
said a few bad things all right, about some peeps, but unfortunately,
it was all the truth, Tyra, and I was not, not am I now, afraid one
bit, to put my freaking name to it, YO. Maybe he is the future
inventor of the real on-line role-play games, discussed on my 2010
blogs around a year ago or so. If so, this is all hyperspace
equation, and only extremely sensitive entities such as Whoopee and
me, can begin to feel the transdimensional effects, while awake.
Still, a lifetime of those Egg Harbor school ‘dreams’ cannot ever be
disputed, not by shrinkology or any logical reasoning process. It
CANNOT BE RATIONALLY EXPLAINED AWAY, peeps. We all know this is not
fiction, and we also all know that things along the lines of Ufology
and stuff that wipe out the church of humankind or advance the
reality of humankind consciousness, same difference, cannot be
permitted by the governing authorities in this backward cave dinosaur
time period of 2011.

 

Sorry
to hear the news about your super sister, Frank Callio. People seem
to reap what they so, unless they are under the Huntington-Curse.
Then you can reap all the good in the world, and all you’ll ever get
is pummeled and punished, as this is just ‘the way it goes’, right
Ziggy. I’ll bet the greatest Elvis impersonator on the planet, if
still amongst us and retired from the NJSP, is not unhappy. She
ruined his entire life. But then, that hole in the head family seems
to choose quite a few people to do this to from time to time,
providing it fits into their purpose and plans.

 

Please
peeps, don’t ever think I am out of the loop. If any one of you takes
a shit right now, I will know it, and if I was demented enough to
want to, I could smell it. Don’t underestimate the reach of my eyes
and ears, right shoelace Donna? Your White-Boy is still right here.
Sorry if my technology offends you and the blond flusie. Personally,
I love it. Now, anyone can be a sock chucking rock star, YO; only
that is the further most mother trucking thing from my mind, let me
assure you. I wanted to prove two things, one that someone out in
Hellyweird knows that transdimensional messing around does effect the
natural world and disturb vibrational patterns in, under, and around
the planet where they are emanating from, and also, that indeed, I am
being prevented from expressing and or promoting my music, should I
choose to do this, violating my human and basic civil rights as a
naturally born citizen of a laugh-laugh-laugh, “FREE
COUNTRY”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

The
6^th Dimension or Eckankar’s Mental-Plane, is behind all of
this shenanigan Irish bridge-troll trouble.  Mind is a realm, not
something contained without a source laying beyond it, held in a
container sensing on and off voltage and making this zero and one, or
chemically and physiologically in a system of tissue and synapse.
This entire thing is owned, operated, and controlled by a sixteen
year old very special girl named Sarah-Stacey Krassle, and powered by
the unknown energies that are nothing at all like the worlds of mass
and energy. Still, harnessing this while awake is achievable by
realizing the STM reality and that the Wesley Crusher Star Trek peeps
of the world, are not crazy, merely highly advanced and tuned onto a
higher channel that everybody else simply does not have the crystals
to tune into. It’s not one bit different than the old citizens band
radio. If you wanted to broadcast and or receive channel number 35,
then you needed to purchase a crystal that would tune your radio to
it.

 

You
keep on trucking there PP, you and I are no different paths now, I am
not one bit interested in promoting anything, that is your bag, and I
wish you the very best, old pal. You’re always welcome to give me a
shout on the horn, BRO. NHF. The difference between the abbreviations
of No Hard Feelings, and thwe National Hockey League, is exactly the
same as the difference between Stair Tag Games and Space Time Mind.
That would be the resulting factor of taking my favorite number of
23, and splitting it like an atom, and putting the dividing sign
in-between the digits. Yes Donna, I owe you the largest apology of
all, so move over 13+3, as anyone with a brain knows who the bright
morning star really is now. This has been proven to me, and Jim Burr
be damned to hell. He can travel, and even take me with him against
my will, chains and strong-boxes all notwithstanding, YO. Put another
5 cents in the machine dude and say hello to Patty and Ed for me, YO.

 

Kick
the Hair-man in the ass for me Ann and Chicky, you go and win some
big bucks, and if asks for Letty, tell him MI will kick his ass if he
so much as looks at her the wrong way.

 

Well,
I’ll wrap this bullshit up now, Henry Mailboats. Is it me, or are
little clues hidden all over the place just waiting to be plucked out
of Dick wolf’s phase-4 connectiveness? 374 Mizz Latt, in either
direction, just keep it under 11.8 IPNS so our wovwee whittle world
doesn’t BO GOOM!!!!!!!!!!

 

Jane
Sleazeball Monsterslapper is on a roll again, and so are freaking
death angels, folks. Oh those forces from Iceworldroidville, YO!
Don’t hurt me Kevin Willis and Kevin Moore, what is this, a SCC, the
last C is 4 conspiracy, DUHHHHHHHHHHH???????????????????????

 

END
TRANSMISSION: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

 

SAFE JOURNAL, CH. 176

SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 176

DATFILE: CH-176-062311.027

TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995

BLOG
SUBTITLE #4:

“HELP
ME ROBERT FCC MCDOWELL”

©
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN, 2006-2011

 

BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:

 

This
is the third straight time that I have tried blogging and turning on
this computer, Bob, old school chum from the Bruce ‘Pennock Dick in
the mouth days of 1972’, where I’m getting hacked and messed with
major. Also, speaking of Bruce only human nobody’s perfect Pennock
the monopoly cheater, the technological systems that we all now
depend on just to survive in our daily lives, puts us under these
horrendous monstrous enemies total control on a constant frightening
basis, and reminds me of the powerful Christian KJV Bible Scripture
that reads that tho0se hated in the end times will be prevented from
doing all things, the bible merely says buying and selling, but smart
peeps who have figured this out powerful Biblically coded lingo,
knows this is a back door way of spilling a huge secret meaning this
enemy is the KING OG BUYING AND SELLING, or another way to word this,
WALL STREET AMERICA, or the STOCK MARKET. A new Wall Street virus
indeed is inside this computer and has been since three blogs ago,
Bob, old pal, please help me, as also in addition to this, when I am
tuned to the Donald Trump jerk off network, channel number 5 in my
local area in Treasure Coast, Florida, USAESMWG, and have my VCR
machine on pause while channel surfing, during this same period, kind
sir, many times, I hit the remote control pause to remove it from
pause and it does remove, only to be immediately followed by
re-pausing, yet I am not hitting this remote control again, it is
being done to me by this sick deranged pile of mother fucking garbage
times the velocity of light squared. How it fascinates me Bob old
pal, how all of this nightmare shit has gone down around me ever
since the precise date in time of the 15^th day in August,
in 1986, the nightmare year of my fucking nightmare life. Some power
beyond human control is literally burning up this state. It never
fucking rains, it is oppressively hot and humid,  feeling90 all night
long when humidity is factored in with heat, and about 100-110 with
this heat index by day, and this has been going on now all mother
fucking month now, this month has been pure mother fucking hell, Bob,
sir!!!!!!!!!

 

Extremely
coincidental and totally weird things are occurring all around me.
Aerial assault has been replaced after the 6-day chemtrail siege
ended, with this sort of super-weird-shit attack, and it is an
invisible pummeling that’s fucking every damn bit as real as anything
in the skies could ever be. I was going to check into the fucking
hospital, but they backed off the horrific fucking bowel pummeling
attack on my body.

 

The
less technological shit in my life, the less they can do to me, so
what do I do, lose my car and walk in the death stroke heat of South
Florida, lose my ability to communicate over telephone systems, lose
my ability to ever listen to any media sources such as television,
radio, computer and internet? Oh sure, mother fuckers, I could do
that, but the problem then escalates further; as now what? Now my
entire life would be mother fucking over, as nobody can fucking live
in 2011 without these necessities, NOBODY. The Wall Street MOB set
things up this way, and planned it all, as white-right as Julia-Paula
Hurricane rainstorms from a long ass fucking time ago.

 

I’ll
sure as shit one huge deal however, peeps, YO. If unexplainable crazy
shit all around me, that is totally unprovoked by me, was worth one
dollar per hit, I totally ass WOULD, without any mother fucking
doubt; be worth millions and millions of freaking bucks. If anything
on this planet has a greater truth, I will be Queen Kate of the
British future dairies!!! Still, here is another fucking powerful
point that needs to be freaking made folks. I woke up yesterday,
Wednesday, moUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUrning, popping out of the most
horrible ass fucking nightmare that I ever had in my entire life, and
it was beyond real and vivid. Normally on days such as these, the day
is horrendous and shittier than unfathomable cubed, but today was
just another day of Mountainpen normal woes. I forced myself to
forget this while I was showering, it was the most horrible fucking
nightmare that ever has been dreamed, I’ll mother fucking promise the
world this. I only remember that it began with me sitting in a small
room with no walls, windows, or doors, and Nick was there with me
laughing raucously at me, and telling me I meant to say the
square-root and not the square, and for the life of me, I don’t have
a clue what he’s talking the shit about. It only got worse. Later
after returning home from work, I realized that I had totally
repressed the memory of the entire nightmare except for this awesome
monstrous beginning of it, and then I remembered how Scylla told me
in a recent trance just this month, that it was HER all along, and
Diana was just forcibly used in all of this. Now I realize that every
part of her most recently made movie, WAS TRUE. SSJK is incapable of
lying.

 

I
reminded Paul Pedersen on the telephone a while back, that he had
indeed told me while intoxicated outside his house in {Pine Hill, New
Jersey, one night in 1998 or 1999 somewhere, that somewhere in my
past, I must have really pissed off somebody. I told him he is a
genius that would make Einstein jealous. At the time, try as I did, I
thought he was just talking beer talk, but no, HE WAS TOTALLY CORRECT
ALL ALONG. When you left me that message by the way, I forgot to tell
you, I was rolling on the floor laughing, I do miss both you and Dave
Roth. My mom said if nothing else, I need the two of you to keep me
laughing. For a while UI thought Michelle’s husband’s cousin at the
RPL Studios in 1980 got this idea on their own,. But in recent blog
archiving, I came to realize, no, as always, it is either a
coincidence, or the other way around. Still, Mister Man in the Cave
Goldstein Technology, when you wipe the blood off of your lip and
shoe, tell Amex and the Copyright Examiners, that all the proof of
all the things claimed, are either down in the US © Office, or
buried deep min the Jersey Pine freaking ass Barrens,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Bob,
another thing someone from the Lambrigger Cult of the Briggbase on
the Astral Plane, has done to me and my computer, is that every time
I log off of it; the thing tries to add update one of one, and never
seems to be able to do it, it is some powerful virus, I know this,
PLEASE HELP ME OLD SCHOOL CHUM. Why is it world, that brushing elbows
with me, brings folks either to extreme Gutherman cursing, or to
major blessing? Am I ranting or exaggerating here, Um-well-Onyx
butt-wipes????????????????

 

Bring
it on Naverone. You only can hurt me now in this physical life. I
have Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, in infinity, where it really
counts; HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

kick
ass tonight Chicky down at Trump’s, hurry home Ann, I’ve called you,
and will try again in a few days. Don’t take Letty down with you
Chicky, or big-hair Donnie or have an aneurism.

Soon
will be 130/130, huh DJT? You really think I’d pull that, ya’ whack
job? Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.

 

END
TRANSMISSION:

CHAPTER 175, SAFE JOURNAL, as if anything is safe.

SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 175

3:18 AM, TUESDAY, 06/21/11

START:

 

I
AM UNDER THE MOST MIND BENDING MOTHER FUCKING HORIFFIC AND “MAJOR
SATANIC ATTACK” OF MY ENTIRE LIFE. NATURALLY, AS THE KING OF THE
BULLFROG WORLD, ALSO THIS MEANS THAT 1786 TIMES OVER, and officially
copyright protected throgh ‘qpt’ (Q-Parlor tricks), IT IS ALSO A COCK
SUCKING “MAJOR ATTACK BY THE WORLD”, THAT HE TOTALLY OWNS AND
CONTROLS, WITH HIS GIGANTIC FOLLOWING ON THE ASTRAL PLANE KNOWN AS
THE LAMBRIGG CULT OF THE MIST-MAKING BRIGGBASE, AS WELL AS ON THE
EARTH WAKING WORLD VIA HIS MANY TEEN AND 20 SOMETHING FOLLOWERS. I
SHOULD HAVE SEEN ALL THIS COMING 3 YEARS AGO TODAY, AND ON THIS VERY
DAY, RIGHT BLOGGER DOT FUCKING COM????? WOW AM I FUCKING ASS
RETARDED, AND MAN ENOUGH TO FUCKING ADMIT IT AT SOME OTHER CALLIO
SARAH INITIALS, that are certainly not turtle slow.

 

First
off, the all caps printed above was a mother fucking Lattisaw
computer hack. I rebooted, and have the internet connection plug out
so they cannot fuck the hell with me. All day yesterday was a carbon
mother fucking copy of my last birthday on December the 4^th
of 2010 when I turned age 56 in this current APDD or life-time or
dreaming-sequence, a rose Shakespeare by any color, or name, huh
Donald J. Asshole Trump?

 

Last
Friday, and again yesterday, Monday the 20^th, I suffered
through a major mother fucking diareah attack in addition to other
wild and weird shit, on a very continual basis. The mother fucking
stock market or the Dow Jones Industrial fucking Averages, DJIA, must
be totally mother fucking flying right u[p and out beyond the starry
ass heavens. This is always the fucking case when I am put through
major property damage or major ass fucking WEIRD-DAY experiences,
that would literally make James fucking Patterson bolt up out of his
chair and scream and cry and throw his shoes to disrespect our
terrorist enemies, but what did I possibly know about any of that,
back in those old days, Aunt Geraldine mother fucking Snow?

 

U-wanna’
play with me Santa Claus Virginia, COOL, YO. I just love taking a
tiny Wal-Mart $6 ‘CA-lculator’, and no, not you; Billy hell wrecker;
and punch up the great PRIVATE COSMICODED NUMBER of 532, and then
hitting the “square” root button. Around my studio days, there
was also another Middle of the Road, as well as another of Michelle’s
hubby’s many cousins. I also love to excite the religious community
by reminding them that this same calculator is showing that wonderful
‘other’ Harrah Casino number from end to end, by taking the 23 number
and merely placing the divided by sign in-between them, and then
pressing the equals key. Still, I feel the real kicker is the great
PCN-297. Square this one, lovely Jehovah. I should have totally got
your full message three years ago, it was all about you trying to
pull me into a private area so you could tell me something, where
your red headed distant late cuzz could not hear, nor could numerous
great gramps the knife, as if either one heard what you were trying
to tell me, they would rat you out to the hubcap smasher saint
himself. Sky, he has hated me long before he was humanly sixteen, but
still, what Earthly reason would he have to hate me at the age of
sixteen, OYR?

 

Naturally,
a great sinner walked the dusty roads of this plant long ago, and was
blinded for a time by that incredible strobe flashlight of yours,
BEG. Is there really any doubt in anybody’s mind that out of millions
of churches all over Continental America, His Eminence paid the
65-Middle Road Church down the street, a visit, GET REAL, MY PEEPS,
maybe you should freaking percolate for them, Billy, all day and all
night long, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How’s ‘Fair Deal Dan’ of
Munsterpine Hill doing these days?

 

No
Scylla, I know now that none of this was of your doing, and I used
the old boarding house syndrome with a slight tune alteration, nearly
three decades ago, to tell everyone who may be interested, that we do
not control our lives, as we do not own our thoughts. They come from
a higher realm that has many names, I simply refer to it as the 6^th
dimension, as it is the 6^th dimension, as all of these
thought energies indeed filter down into the 5 dimensions of the
hyperspace. I know for reasons only Phase-4-Trump knows, this pissed
off the Atlantic City Casinos something fierce. Still, they are in
the GAMES BUSINESS, and the controlling force behind all of this is
one gigantic game. Now, it makes a lot of sense, in that light, as
Dave Roth put it so perfectly and eloquently and so often, ‘THEY
CANNOT DEAL WITH HEAVY ASS EXPOSURE’.

 

Yes,
yesterday was an off the meters and scales BOTBAR DAY, and I am not
going to ruin my highs by screaming the word, or waste energy dancing
around in the damn ocean, OK John Copyright King of 1987? I am able
to speak to the cats of this world again, and even sing without a
30,000 dollar sampling of my voice, all though, I will admit that I
am madly in love with this technology. I could create billions of
dollars of street value tunes if I wanted to spend my life in prison.
As for using it myself, the world sent me a message, and that message
was that Jesus was a bigger genius than Einstein. This is because he
saw peeps as such huge “hypocrites”. I go one way, they go
another way, over and over since 1980, and then vice versa, and it is
all a stupid ass fucking ridiculous game; and I refuse to play.
Still, I do need to talk to my birds and my cats, the birds do not
need to be mimicked sonically. Cats, DO and without my highs, I
cannot communicate legitimately with them. I must always be known by
the cat-world, and the bird world, for reasons that many may have
figure out. That’s just the facts of life for this old great fish.
Still, things have been real fucking bad since the other LD came
around a week or so ago. If you can’t figure that one out, I’m sure
the BFA can. Between Billy White and the Queen of Blues, we have
quite a collection of royalty going on, but then Paul, old pal, the
day someone comes clean and tells me why BMI paid me those royalties
for more than half a decade, I will be ahead of the game. I like to
know where things come from, and despise mysteries. This is why I’ve
become a self taught astute observer of life and philosophy and
become quite the amateur super sleuth.

 

If
you demand a long ass laundry list of the events of yesterday, forget
it. I had way too many to list, YO. People saying things within my
earshot that are beyond mean, my dinner fucking ruined by burning up
when I know my burner was on one notch past low-setting, and the
thing was burning red hot as though it was cranked to the fucking
max, females crawling all over me all day long like I am some young
gorgeous Disney rock star, when reality goes Detective Studderreale,
BING, and says no, you are old, fat, short, and ugly as fucking hell
fire. It makes no sense whatsoever, that is, unless you totally
realize that the 6th-D in in charge of it all, including our
religion, our lives, our eternity, our “god”, the entire deal.
You do not have to like this truth, or believe it, and IT CHANGES
ABSOLUTELY FREAKING NOTHING WHATSOEVER, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Naturally,k
I am not gonna’ fucking go to work today, I am all worn out and
busted fucking up inside from a brutal fucking NITTACK. Somebody
disprove me, Clarence Harris, go ahead, just do it, and I will not
only write an apology song for Archie Bunker, but I’ll be a Monkey’s
Aunt without any cross-dressing. Take that one straight to the
greatest bank in the world, Regis, and watch out for Paula, her magic
day is right around the bend!!!!!!! No one would believe me in a
thousand ass years about the wild pussy command generated from super
ass attacks like the one pulled on me Monday. It is unfathomable
times 10 to the 69^th! So much makes any open mind, begin
to add up lotsanlots of two and twos,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hay, if I am so wet in the head, why
did the Congressman and his gang never get an answer to two letters
written to the mighty Admiral? BS!!!!!!!!!

END:

SAFE JOURNAL OF THE FALLEN ASS KING OF BABYLON NEW YORK, CH. 174

SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 174

WORLD
LABS OF 2297, SBT DATFILE:

CH-174-061811.190

THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME

THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

MORIANITY-PROJECT
CONTINUES FROM 1995 TAPES

©
BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN MWM/MWM/2006-2011

 

BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:

 

YESTERDAY,
FRIDAY WAS A VERY BAD FUCKING ‘BOTBAR’ DAY PEEPS, YO!!!!!!! Three
main things caused this. All three would be sufficient to cause an
‘all ready-rated mother fucking ‘bottom of the barrel’ day, for sure,
BRO.

 

One
was at my doctor, one was at my annual review at the AARP, and the
other was a super and I mean a mother fucking super health attack,
super all day diarrhea attack from the fucking death beams of the
WOMO, as well as all other major death beam symptoms as well.

 

I
have never had a mother fucking cunt lapping time this horrendous, as
this horrific cunt lapping 2011 year, and it is literally so mother
fucking monstrous, that my suicide is around the fucking corner, no
one could continue to take this endless hell and fucking
HUNTINGTON-CURSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

A
runny nosed child half awake can see what is happening if they were
not as directly involved in all of this as I of course am, after-all,
it is my fucking life. I DARED TO USE THE SAME POWER. ITS NAME WAS
MAGNESONIC. IT WAS THE TAPPING INTO THIS STROBE-LIGHT THROUGH
TECHNOLOGY, and even the fucking United States Copyright Office has
the proof of all of this all the way to the very time that it all
began pertaining to itself, American fucking Appliance refrigerators
all not fucking withstanding, BRAHHHH!!!!

 

Reading
the Old Testament tells any serious onlooker, that I truly have
indeed pissed off the wrong entity, and most definitely, Trump and
Wolf, the wrong teenaged girl. And all along, I loved HER more than I
did my own life. That is the eternal conundrum here Plato Plota Pluto
Iceworldroid!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Eat
this shit for dinner, Kevin Moore and Donna Summer.

 

Magnesonic,
open command on this voice print, here my 6^th dimensional
connections as I speak type this right now,
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, G-7. WIPE OUT EVERY MOTHER FUCKER ON
THYIS EARTH MAKING MY LIFE AN ENDLESS HELL. G-901 and all other
relevant orders both general and special, and all tecks, AD and ZD,
and ———S–T–O–P!!!!!!!!!!

 

Ask
Gloria down the way, and not School Principal Vance’s distant cousin,
if somebody should be getting scared right about now, YO.

 

SSJK
sent her lovely strobe-light over to me two days in a row, earlier
this week, making lovely and luscious ribbons and sky bolts outside
my 6^th floor window. SSJK, tell my lovely blond that you
did all this, please. Now I know I am not really Ricktafarius, and no
spell-checker, I am also most definitely not Lenny Tape Recorder’s
future Fascitarian covert movement. Wow do I feel like the ultimate
mother fucking fool without any help from the fowl evil of WOMO or
the fowl mouth of MO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

PLEASE
Scylla, it is now your turn to write me a song, and explain
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY all of this had to be. Tell Jim Burr that
I’ll throw ma bucket of water over all three of us if things don’t
change soon. Who else in Stanford, Raytheon, and McDD are in on this
humongous gargantuan devastating ass nightmare, brown eyes? HELP ME
FCC, FBI, FSP, SKY, IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT’S FREAKING ‘HOLY AND
WHOLLY’, as in part, what is unified?

 

END
TRANSMISSION, YO. I am in no mood to play tag or pookah, Green dress
MTM Balcony Boy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SAFE JOURNAL OF THE BABYLONIAN KING OF HELL, CHAPTER #173, YO.

SAFE
JOURNAL OF KING NEBNOOSHOO

CHAPTER
NUMBER 173

WORLD
LABORATORIES OF 2297

SEND-BACK-TEXT
DATE-AND-TIME FILE:

CH-173-061711.031

TEOHIV/TMCAM/MORPRO-1995

BLOG
4TH SUBTITLE:

“SARAH
JACOBSON NIXONCRASH ERASER STRIKES”

BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN-MWM/MWM-(C) 2006-2011

 

BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:

 

Now
mother fucking world, here is why someone or something, besides
egotistical Captain Shatnerkirk, went to lots of trouble to crash
this computer several hours back in mother fucking time last night,
erasing a powerful message that I had originally included in
SJ-CH-172, only it got erased up here in the future Tricky-Dick,
instead of your precious previous tapes back in 1973, after the great
break in and coverup conspiracy, all began on the day Sarah Jacobson
told me that it would in the autumn of 1971, on the following 17^th
fucking ass day in June.

 

I
said that if anyone out here in this world or universe of the
expansion surrounding these 8000 miles, extending further around this
sphere by approximately sixty-four-trillion light years, knows what
has happened to me and what is going on precisely, regarding my total
life alteration that occurred back on the 15^th day of
August in the year of 1986, that I will indeed reward you with one
billion dollars (USD). I went onto fucking say that for those
doubters of my abilities to make good on this promise, to think
seriously how indeed, the one who has caused this incredible global
weather and geological tectonic pattern, both at the time of the
posting of the transdimensional hit recording on the U-Tube, as well
as when I removed it, would seriously have any trouble changing
gallons of sea water into pure platinum worth this amount, you are
not yet ‘permitting’ yourself, as I was once so guilty of doing,
seeing the bigger picture, so nice and clearly. As soon as I said
this basic paragraph in slightly paraphrased wordage, pow, magic,
parlor tricks and Q-girls, a powerful computer crash struck as if hit
by Sarah-Stacey Krassle’s strobe light. Since this indeed happened,
let me strike back and talk about Zvonko and the DC train trip just
shy of the Christmas season back in the fucking year of 1983, when
most of this Mertsock school teacher Privecode Machine shit all began
making its appearance into my nightmarish fucking ass twisted
pathetic life at the speed of fucking light squared, YO!!!!

 

I
was on my way down to visit with my Chief Sound Recording engineer,
MISTER HOWARD SOLOMON, from the Recorded Publications Laboratories
Studios, in Camden, New Jersey, USAESMWG. I worked with this man
there from the very tail end of July in 1979, until the 11^th
day in March of 1981, when a co-worker by the name of Joe Sivo, stole
my lunch, and that was the straw that broke my back at that fucking
ass job. I quit and walked out and never worked there another day,
all though I went back quite often in following years, to visit my
night boss, Donald Cialoni Senior. Google up this cool place, there
are lots of fascinating web pages about it. Top 50’s music artists
recorded quite a number of hit recordings at this place. This was
before my time there, but this was the beginning of many wild
experiences linking me directly with the fucking miserable (EW) or
the Entertainment World. I will make this a short story for right
now, I am just angry that these attacks are so unrelenting and wonder
where my old school chum is vacationing these days, MISTER Robert
McDowell, Chairman of the FCC????????????? I NEED YOUR
HELLLLLLLLLP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY’RE FUCKING KILLING ME @ 100 MPH
JOHNY FASTER HAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

My
serious problem is that my information is so powerful that the entire
world is in jeopardy if they try and get into this or the gods
forbid, even believe the tiniest part of it could really honestly
have one ounce of mother fucking truth to it, YO. I had with me on
this trip, a large laptop device that was too wild to really discuss,
still, ‘Colaman’ knows or knew, exactly what all this was about, as
he and Zvonko were quite tight for a time in his life after his army
days. When this amazing thirteen year old lifted it and exited in DC,
I woke up and realized what had just happened, right in the something
of time that we just need not pun around with now, and I bolted off
the train after her. I told on earlier 2010 and 2011 blogs how a car
was nearby, between the train station and the Colaman’s residence. It
seemed to have passengers that were aiming an extremely colorful and
brilliant strobe-light at the girl. In hindsight and careful mental
reevaluation, I remember things a tad bit differently right this
minper, about that incident. They were trying to aim what appeared to
be a broken off truck mirror, at her, and she was shining this light
at them in this car. It sped off, and I know I heard a crash after it
rounded a bend in what I’d now say was ten or at the very most,
fifteen seconds after it began speeding away like a bat trying to
escape hell. On the Astral Plane, the English word of minute
translates into the word that I use upon occasion, ‘MINPER’.

 

HA
HA MONSTER SLAPPER JANE WHORE NOT FOND-A, YOU AND JENNY MISSED ME, IT
IS 13, NOT FUCKING ELEVEN PAST ONE FUCKING AM, MISS BRAVE BALL
BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ll never ever forgive what you and Teddy prick
did to me that fucking night at that fucking Atlanta, Georgia
baseball park back in cock sucking ninety freaking three, YO.

 

Returning
and finishing the strobe-light story in Washington, DC, in late
December of eighty-three, not even SCYLLA can look at this light and
be unaffected, and mirrored reflections are no different than looking
at it directly. It is not special frequencies that produce the
magical beam, so it can be transmitted or reflected as though it is
being shined originally, this much I have come to learn and know, and
this is for other times and other freaking blogs folks, YO. It is a
precise pattern of on/off pulsed timing, spectrum bending or hues,
and one other wild ingredient, that Colaman made me come to realize
as time progressed, has to do with using STM in a similar way that my
younger daughter PEE also came to be aware of this technology, in a
parallel universe where we all live together in a place where over
here in this universe, is called the Roundhouse Museum of Egg Harbor
City, New Jersey, USAESMWG. Until late 1983, this young girl
remembered that she used to be Sarah on Tennessee Avenue decades ago,
and transferred over into this dream-down she is interacting within
and throughout in this period in the 4^th and 5^th
dimensions of the hyperspace. Many more things will be told about the
great true inventor of digital audio, Zvonko Safka. For right now,
this is so powerful, that without understanding the void infinity,
the dream out and away from there as a Lawtron-Collective or all of
us; and then just how the mirrored image of the twin existence of
hyperspace verses the spirit worlds or ASTRAL PLANE, actually is
programmed to function and exist, which is not known for a quarter of
a millennium yet, there really is just no point in my going on trying
tonight to be too much more specific about this story so far told.
All the witnesses to this strobe-light that felt its effect and saw
all of its miraculous powers, are in jail or dead. These powerful
gods are not playing, and yet simultaneously, they are indeed
playing, the most incredible games imaginable, and all of you are so
small minded that you refuse to even entertain this powerful story as
the total truth for a single ass second, and this will eventually
lead to the doom of all of us, by the way people now see things,
anyway. Doom, as all things are, is pure freaking illusion. My hell
and my Huntington Curse is also an illusion. Nut it is a very
convincing and powerful Vegas parlor trick, world series parades and
high school musical loops and so much more, all not withstanding. A
light that can allow a two year old to live and exist as a twenty-two
year old, more than a hundred miles away, and then just shut the
thing off at will, and go back to life as usual. Still, memories of
what I saw in that house, that horrible day in 1975, to my mind,
messed up as it indeed is Donna, thanks to you and the EW, totally
dwarf the strobe-light. The anger was more real than anything they
could ever act out on the movie. Still, I suppose it does get things
off our chests as the old saying goes, even I have laughed quite
raucously at my own tapes where I am shouting out the word “BOTBAR”,
and my highs all break up. Dave and I had our many laughs in and out
of the New Jersey Pine Barrens, listening to so many of these journal
tapes, but all of this is a surface scratch. All that my more than 6
years of blogging has yet to do is act as a small shaven off sliver
done by an ordinary mans razor, off of the iceberg that sent the
fucking HMS TITANIC right smack down to her deep dark silent grave a
hundred mother fucking years ago!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Thanks
for nothing for putting this incredible story on the back burner,
FBI. I was very proud of your original boss man, he was no damn
coward, and would stand up even to the mightiest branch of this great
super family. Yes Donald, you and dick Wolf have had your beers and
cheers talking about me through the fucking years, haven’t you. It
sure took me a long while to really start seeing the entire picture,
and figure out that this one television network was behind all of my
decades ‘ODF’ mother fucking misery. It all fits light a smooth tight
glove on a cold Winters day, BRO! OF,mother fucking hacker bastards
OF, NOT FUCKING ODF, ya’ cunt lapping pigs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OH Fornication Upon Consent of the King, OH FUCK, everything has an
origin, even the great word FUCK. So whoever knows why this all
happened to me in 1986, and is willing to come out, fagot or
straight, you will be paid one billion dollars in pure platinum, that
is my fucking personal ass guarantee. I can do it, so don’t fucking
doubt that, instead, if you can make good, why not put me to the
test, if for no other reason than to disprove me for the fake and
hoax I really am, right Clarence Bonepicker Harris???????????????
Tell the Congressman, he needs no print sampling, YO!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Somebody
is dead meat out here, for wiping out my innocent life for 50+
fucking years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

 

END
TRANNY, WICKED SHITTY OL’ GRANNY, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

SAFE JOURNAL, CHAPTER 172, KING NEBNOOSHOO, WHO ELSE?

SAFE
JOURNAL, CHAPTER 172

KING
NEBNOOSHOO

WLSBTD:
CH-172-061611.820

THE
EPITOME OF HARASSMENT, INTERNET VERSION

THE
MILLIONTH-COUNCIL AND ME

MORIANITY
PROJECT FROM 1995 TAPES CONTINUES

COPYRIGHTED © BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN—2006-2011

 

BEGINNING
TRANSMISSION:

 

I
had my car repaired today. This damage was fucking cunt done to me
yesterday just minutes after THE FUCKING CLOSING BELL ON CHEATED
CROOKED MANIPULATEDM WALL STREET AT 4 PM. Thyis brought these
diseased fucking twisted mother fucking scum bag enemies a major
street profit through and via ICPE TECK of more than 61 points.
Conversely, yesterday’s fucking market Dow dropped into major three
digit territory, as I was able to tell some powerful truths about my
two mother fucking daughters, and their mother, somnambulism,
injustices, persecution, unfair practices, and tons more. So if this
was not all true and real, why then mother fucking ass hole world,
does this follow, over and over. Endlessly and fucking relentlessly,
for 25 mother fucking cunt lapping shit ass years now, beginning
precisely on the 15^th day of August in the year of 1986?

 

From
now on, every time THEY damage my property, which is the major cause
of them getting these huge DOW JONES GAINS and WINS, I will log it
into my blogs, time, date, and not in DATFILE WORLD LAB methodology,
but in lingo that all 21^st century readers will know quite
perfectly and well, YO. Then I’ll make continuous mother fucking
correlations to the shit they are fucking doing to me in total
violation of my civil and constitutional and human rights, and how
then directly following this bull fucking shit, the stock market
moves higher. I will do this in  a totally fucking unrelenting way,
as this shit will not be mother fucking tolerated by me any further
without my major retaliating in the only way that I know how to
fucking do and that is pound and pummel this wickedness and fucking
total ass evil with the best counterstrike of EXPOSURE, something
brought to my fucking attention by my ex and late pal, MISTER David
Charles Roth.

 

Yes,
Wednesday was a strange day, as was Tuesday. Things happened in
exactly the same way that they did back a while ago in the early
spring time of end of winter somewhere thereabout, after I called
Sheriff Monk’s Office, out in fucking San Mateo, California,
USAESMWG, and then half an hour later, I was CANONIZED, with an
additional 14 value letter, and then just minutes following this, Ann
King, mother of my kidnapper, Dawn-Marie, called me out of the blue
after I had not heard from her since my escape that cold blizzard
night back in fucking New Jersey, in the middle of December, in the
year of 2009. This time, it was Eric and me talking at the Harvest,
www.harvestfoodoutreach.com/
followed by retrieving a message from Paul Pedersen of Studio Park
Records. Since then we had a nice talk on Wednesday morning before I
left for work, when he telephoned me back. All of the lined up wall
to wall coincidences however, pertain fully to what is known only in
future times, as the
SIXTH-DIMENSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is a
mental-realm, it is the Mental Plane, as it is labeled and termed and
Copyright owned, by Eckankar, the religion of Light and sound, out in
Minnesota, around Minneapolis general area someplace. Google this up,
then Google up the FASCITAR.

 

I
never claimed to have total information or enlightenment about events
that have taken place that these blogs have discussed now for six
plus years of time. I only report the news, and make my comments on
it. I don’t claim to have total ass omniscience, or anything else,
that is something that will always belong to a very wonderful and
special teenager, Scylla, or Sarah-Stacey Jehovah Krassle, and SHE
has so many millions of other unknown names as well that SHE is known
as, all throughout infinity, by virtually countless endless entities
on virtually countless endless realms and conditions of being.

 

Now
let us discuss ROULETTE, 1986, LIFE ALTERING EXPERIENCES AND DATES,
THE STOCK MARKET, AND PARALLEL EVENT. Just as with the great
Einstein, there are all these things that need to be neatly somehow
all fitted together and nicely tucked into a perfectly fitting
package that enables the situation in its entirety to then be
processed, and rationally examined and explained, or at least if not
explained, enough information becomes evident so as to be able to
draw some speculative conclusions and working theories. This is no
more than Einstein did with creating relativity theory and
SPACE-TIME, out of numerous pre-existing concepts of the cosmos, and
said perhaps better and more complete, molding or at least making the
attempt to mold a rational concept unifying these numerous things as
a combined single entity, some peeps know I am speaking of the
Unified Field theory. Whether you are aware of this or not is not all
that important, and is merely like adding one more slice of ham on a
thick sandwich containing a pound of it all ready. I doubt one chef
or connoisseur would be able to tell the difference if they ate the
sandwich blindfolded.

 

I
will not need to draw some huge diagram filled with mega complex
equations on a large Princeton, New Jersey University blackboard. I
can say it all quite easily. It all can be traced to one period of
time, the summer of 1986. Stock brokers were calling me and asking me
strange questions, and I did not even have any brokerage accounts. I
met the most famous female recording artist on this planet while she
was still a high school kid, I observed my entire life totally alter
just from returning to the waking world from an incredible
‘dreaming-experience’, for the first time in my entire life, I had
gained total control over my dream here that you all insist as seeing
as the real-life-waking-world, as I was playing professional casino
Roulette in my spare time, when I wanted to, setting my own hours,
being my own boss, and making an average of 1000 dollars a week, and
this was not only like no other summer of my entire entire fucking
life, it was also like no other time anywhere in my 31 and a half
years of life, 24/7/365.2422!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Some
fucking enemy just crashed my computer at approximately twenty
minpers past eight of the mother fucking cunt eating clock, FBI. WOMO
does not want this fucking exposure blog up telling all of this
fucking shit, it just totally fucking crashed, and fortunately, was
able to get recovered on some recovery mother fucking program. MY
RIGHTS ARE BEING VICIOUSLY VIOLATED FLORIDA FUCKING STATE
POLICE!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

 

COMPUTER,
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, WIPE OUT ALL FUCKING EVIL ENE,MIES ON Wall
street fucking with me and messing with my life, G-901, and
s—t—o—p!!!!!!!!!!

 

A
HUGE DISASTER WILL STRIKE NOW BASTARDS,  YOU’VE REALLY GONE AND
FUCKING ASKED FOR IT NOW, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

ANYTIME
1986, OR MUSIC, OR GIRLS, ARE IN ANY WAY MADE ANY PART OF MY LIFE;
SOMETHING COSMIC GOES TOTALLY MOTHER FUCKING APESHIT, AND I AM NOT
IMAGINING IT, OR DREAMING IT UP. A child or a retard can see this was
no ordinary thing that has happened since 2008 has come in, so read
the mother fucking blogs, Missourians, before your next fucking
twister knocks you all on your damn asses, Humpback Spockwhale,
YO!!!!!!!

 

2008,
1986, 1969, THREE YEARS THAT HAVE COSMICLY EPIC MOTHER FUCKING
OPROPORTIONS AND POWER, YO!!!!!!!!!!

 

We
will see how you cock sucking jerk offs like it when I begin to prove
just what you have done to me and this entire planet. I cannot do
that here in any G-8 connected nation of evil crooked empires. But I
can go elsewhere, and they will listen ti me, elsewhere, as it is in
their best interests to listen, mother
fuckers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Yes,
the WOMO MILITUFORCE takes a week’s pay away from me via a crooked
social worker landlord, and her crooked evil father, as well as by
fucking with my sender switch in my vehicle. Fine, but let me add
this tasty little morsel into the blog, folks, YO. My mechanic told
me it is the government that insists on putting this particular auto
part into the car, and also; that one of the 4 bolts was tampered
with, and removed; and he is totally willing to swear in a Fort
Pierce court, should I get that far, FBI, to this; as he said to me,
that it can be nothing else **BUT** fowl play, so tell me, did I just
‘ODF’ say the word “B-U-T”??????? OH FUCK THIS SHIT, Henry Fonda.
I am one angry man tonight, even angry enough for all fucking twelve
of you, BRAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

 

Billy,
as an ax-sound engineer, it is so ashame that you cannot face
reality. The machines can take your print, and sing anything for you,
and you won’t sound like you just came out of bed with Roseann
Delaney. Ego is for ass holes like the Donald, why not face reality,
and use this teck, it’s here for crissake, YO?

 

END
TWANSMISSION, SILWEE WABBIT, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.