Long Sword

When it comes to space war, that's where my genius really lies.
 
We had the first death yesterday in the space war attack I have been describing to you.
 
A Waco, Texas,  Baptist minister named Kyle Lake, 33, was electrocuted when he touched a  microphone while standing in the University Baptist Church baptistery water preparing to perform a baptism.
 
(A minor event you would say, but you would also say America's torture-enslavement of me is a minor event; and certainly it was not minor to those who loved Reverend Lake or was America's cruelty toward me minor to those who loved me.)
 
You can see the death of Reverend Lake anticipated in the code I gave you yesterday, if you have the courage to look; otherwise you can psychologize.
 
Standing in the water while holding the microphone was not an unusual practice at University Baptist Church, and had been done many times; but right on time, on schedule with this space war attack I have been saying would take place at this time, it was fatal.
 
Consider what I told you yesterday about the metaphor of attack, a tiny elephant (a young minister) dropped into the water and sinking like a stone; and when I was drawing the war map for you last week I said America would find itself in hot water about this time.
 
I suggest this was the first of a number of deaths following the same metaphor of attack; water, hot water, sinking in water, themes along this line.
 
I know this is difficult to follow and more difficult to swallow; but this is space war, and it is designed to be invisible to your mind ; but swallow or swallow not, I do not care.
 
I will note in passing that it has for over 30 years been impossible for me to go to a Baptist church on a Sunday morning without being tortured by the minister and by the congregation, Black Baptist churches exempted from this statement.
 
I note further that American fundamentalist Christians, knowingly or unknowingly, are the base of Republican American Fascism, which puts forth murder and torture as American policy.
 
To get a taste of my space war genius, you Americans should count your casualties, then count mine.
 
Sure, you have prevented the conception and birth of my children and you have made my life miserable for over 30 years, but you have suffered thousands dead and thousands damned; and I have only just begun to fight.
 
It is a remarkable thing to me, the stupidity with which America met my audible mental telepathy.  Cruel, sure; diabolical, sure, satanic, sure; but never once was the question asked how or why this unique event had occurred, and only once in all that time has a Christian been Christian to me.
 
I suppose it was that you Americans found my helplessness just too delicious, and torturing me just too much fun.
 
This is Long Sword day.  We talked about this yesterday.  In this use of long and short swords, the short sword blocks and the long sword kills.  If the death in Waco was a blocking action, what will the killing action be?
 
I am thinking this might be a good day to survey two battlefields, that of space war, which the American people have so foolishly started, and that of  World War Three, which America's faux-president has so foolishly started.
 
First let's return to the space war battlefield as I described it several days ago.
 
You may recall I presented you with a football metaphor, two teams on the line of scrimmage, the Democrats, the left-right philosophically, and the Republicans, the right-right philosophically, and then showed you a third team amassed at either end of the line of scrimmage set to roll over both teams when the ball is hiked.
 
That third team is God's team, although it may look like Devil Dogs of War to you.
 
On one flank are Space Sailors such as I, but in the spirit and not the flesh so you Americans are unable to torture them as you torture me, and on the other end of the line of scrimmage are the dead soldiers recruited after they died in battle, what we call The Second Flank.
 
(I remind you that The Second Flank found its beginning during the three days Christ was in Hell after the crucifixion.  I realize this is not a common Christian concept, but commonly Christians have missed many of the teachings of Jesus.)
 
Now let's look at how World War Three is shaping up.
 
This three-sided military alignment described in our space war metaphor also exists in the current military alignment of Word War Three; that is, in the tornado-of-cause of World War Three, in the current battle formation of Christians, Muslims and Jews.
 
You may think the Christians and Jews are in alignment, on the same side, two-to-one, but that is not the case.  The United States is the drone ally of Israel and Israel is not the true ally of the United States.  To understand this point you need only understand that Israel knew of 9/11 but did not warn the USA.  To be sure, there is much more evidence but you Americans hate to be bothered with facts.
 
I wish to make one more point about the Christian/Muslim/Jewish triangular battlefield structure; that being that the three all share the common misconception that they are truly the only one right with God.  This is like an argument between a mouse, a rabbit and a guinea pig on which is the King of Beasts.
 
Now back to our American line of scrimmage.  Let's watch for space war news; let's watch America lose.
 
 
 

Short Sword

America fell into space war the day it enslaved me.  It tumbled into a big fat disaster like a thousand thousand Custers wandering into the perimeter of a million million Sitting Bulls.
 
Today's metaphorical image is this:  A tiny elephant is dropped from the sky into a slip of a marina and sinks like a stone.  Watch this play out in the news.
 
I am in a peculiar situation today in that my information would benefit the United States of America; but if I give that information America will profit from its enslavement of me, and as much as possible I cannot allow the bitch to profit from my enslavement.  I'll just flush this information down the toilet.
 
I recently realized in having to explain several times my recent terrible joke, "boy-foot bear with cheek of man", that some of my references may be too obscure.  Since there are two such references today, I will explain them.
 
The title "Short Sword" comes from the two-sword fencing style of Japan's foremost swordsman, Miyamoto Musashi, described in his book, The Book of Five Rings, written in 1643.  Samurai generally carried two swords, one short and one long.  You can expect tomorrow's report to be called "Long Sword".
 
Readers from countries other than the United States of America might not know the reference to Custer and Sitting Bull.
 
This refers to a very famous defeat of US forces, commanded by a headstrong general named George Custer, by Native American warriors, commanded by a famous chief named Sitting Bull.  This slaughter of American troops is generally referred to as Custer's Last Stand.
 
Even American readers might not know that Sitting Bull had gone through a very painful vision-seeking ritual, called a Sun Dance, shortly before the Battle of the Little Big Horn, where this Native American victory took place.  In his vision he saw Custer's troopers on their horses falling upside down from the sky into his camp.
 
You may appreciate the similarity between Sitting Bull's vision and the metaphorical image I relayed to you today; that of the tiny elephant falling into the water and sinking like a stone.
 
You Americans might consider appealing to your faux-president, "Please, Mr. Custer, I don't want to go!"
 
 

The Empire of Lies

Do the math.  The crime is committed and some two years later a rook is taken, but the king, queen, both bishops, both knights and one rook still stand.
 
That is, the CIA agent's cover was broken and her contacts in other countries imperiled, but the Empire of Lies is still standing, and can lie, and can lie, and can lie, far-far faster than you can catch on or catch up; and the rook can be replaced..
 
Now, a few days before God smacks this Empire of Lies in Operation Roll-Over, let's turn to what I was asked to talk about today, the fines, penalties and payments that must be satisfied if America is not to be put through the paper shredder of Hell; and frankly, I love that shredder, so pay or not pay, it doesn't matter to me.
 
When America enslaved me and began its torture I made one quiet announcement one evening telepathically in Laguna Beach, California.    Standing in front of my home-destroyed, in the hollow of my marriage-destroyed, in the shadow of my life-destroyed, I established America's terms of surrender.
 
Perhaps six months later that announcement was mocked by a couple of Florida jackasses in Tallahassee.  That mockery constituted both excellent military intelligence for me and acceptance of my terms.  Gesturing to me in a grocery store line, one said to the other, "This is costing us one thousand dollars a day".
 
Those terms I announced telepathically were that America would pay me $1,000 per day per state, totaling $50,000 a day, for every day I was so enslaved.
 
As time went by the torture of me became greater and greater, especially after this current liar-president became false-president, at which time the level of torture increased to wanton torture-murder.
 
All the presidents from Nixon on supported drowning me, but after the Republican American Fascists stole the White House in 2000 the drowning was done in boiling water.
 
Because of this national torture a second set of penalties was introduced, that being criminal charges against all torturers I could identify, these ranging from neighbors to co-workers to the sheriff of San Luis Obispo County, California. to Senator Dianne Feinstein of California, to the God-damned Faux-President of the United States of America, and all his whores and all his men.
 
The charge is torture and attempted murder by torture; and those American psycho-fascists charged have the right to what I never had the right to, a trial.
 
As the death toll for the lack of my information grew, and as presidency after presidency carried on the torture-enslavement of me, a series of good faith payments were imposed, starting with less than one million dollars and now standing at 10 billion dollars.
 
(If you think this is a lot, consider how many billions of dollars have been lost and squandered and since 9/11, an event I could easily have prevented had I been a free American man.)
 
This good faith payment is to be made immediately upon my emancipation and in one lump sum, in gold at the value of gold when I was first enslaved.
 
Without this payment I will continue to consider America as not acting in good faith with me; and frankly I do not believe America is capable of acting in good faith with any person or any nation or with God, Empire of Lies that it is.
 
It is not my intention to buy 500 million Cadillac cars with this money, but it is my intention to legally adopt as many millions of orphaned children as will have me.  I underscore "legally adopt" and not simply otherwise support them, making them my legal heirs.
 
It is also my intent to demonstrate with the use of my tens of billions of dollars in gold that there is financial profit in saving our Earth from death. I mean by this I intend to get richer through helping to save our Earth; and that saving our Earth from death must not, I repeat must not, involve the killing of human beings as Republican American Fascism and various other units of fascism around the world have planned.
 
So, Dear Reader, this is enough old business for today, tomorrow we go to new business; tomorrow we leave the dreadful science of economics behind and pick up the magnificent science of space war.
 
In that regard I will return briefly to the chess motif I opened with today.
 
When the U.S. State Department government pigs railroaded me into prison in Singapore, when a God-damned US Marine embassy guard mocked me, me, a man who had carried a screaming wounded Marine through shrapnel and machine-gun fire, I learned something about the American soul, that pitiful soul now so close to the shredder.
 
In Singapore Prison I also learned something about chess.  On my cellblock there were many Chinese, some gangsters, some political prisoners, some murderers and some thieves, and some like me there for not being able to leave Singapore; and they often played a game of chess that is common in China.
 
In that game, when you take an opponent's piece that piece belongs to you and you can put it aside and use it as your own, and further you can put it back on the field of battle anywhere you want any time you want.
 
As you chess players will readily see, this adds a whole new dimension to the game.
 
Space war in something like that.  In space war the dead belong to me.  The soldiers you squander in Iraq like pennies tossed into the Wishing Well of Hell are recruited by the forces of God; and believe me, Dear Reader, dead though they may be they are ready, willing and able to destroy the servants of Satan who ordered them into Satan's war.
 
This recruitment of dead soldiers by God is an aspect of the great mystery of Jesus' three days in Hell after the crucifixion.
 
In God's army there are dead soldiers from every army ever to have gone to war; but this does not mean all dead soldiers are in God's army.  We space sailors call these recruited solders of God, The Second Flank.
 
More of this tomorrow, as Halloween approaches, as terror comes in the terror-night.
 
 

100 Pennies from Heaven

Today I am going to tell you about one of the "Little Miracles" I have been given by God since God gave me the gift of audible mental telepathy some 33 years ago.  There have been thousands of Little Miracles, all too little to be seen by the cruel America which has enslaved me.
 
It has been my experience that I am allowed by America to say God loves you, but when I say God loves me I am punished and tortured and called insane; but woe unto America, God does love me and God is going to rip America's head off for America's having tortured and enslaved me.
 
I will return to that subject on another day; and bring  even more proof than I have already presented.
 
Tomorrow I must talk to you about what it is going to cost America to emancipate me; what is the equivalent in my case of the "forty acres and a mule" Black slaves were supposed to be given, and were frequently cheated out of, when they were emancipated after the South lost the American Civil War.
 
I cannot overstate the seriousness of America's having enslaved and tortured me.
 
So, when I tell you tomorrow how many tens of billions of dollars, repeat, many tens of billions of dollars are my forty acres and a mule don't go sputtering about, saying what kind of Christian would ask--no, demand--that kind of money.
 
I am the kind of Christian who has America by the soul, and that stands to hurt America so God-damned much that America will wish I had it by the balls.
 
Tomorrow I will speak to what I will do with those tens of billions of dollars, all in gold at the price of gold when America enslaved me, even though I am not required to do so.  You should know, though, because miserable American slave that I am I have a very good plan to defeat Satan and save the life of our Earth.
 
With that preamble, here is the Little Miracle I am today calling, "100 Pennies from Heaven".
 
When God began speaking to me God did so in gradually increasing presence.  If God had spoken to me on the first day with the presence God uses today it would have rattled my brain, but that's another story.
 
In late '68 or early '69, after God as been speaking to me in gradually ascending presence since January 1, 1963, God began asking me to make the sacrifice of leaving Asia and returning to the United States of America, telling me America is where the story is, America is where the murder of God's Earth is based.
 
In the course of asking this of me God offered me very little in terms restitution, but one of the few things God promised me was a bowl of rice if I found myself hungry.
 
After I returned to America, hounded by government pigs, after I worked for the Los Angeles Times, hounded by government pigs, after I married my wife, hounded by government pigs, I found it necessary to hitchhike around California for a while because it became my accurate understanding that the government pigs were getting ready to either murder me or murder my wife and blame it on me.
 
So, my thinking was it would be easier to murder me if I were out on the road; therefore my beloved wife might suffer grief but not suffer being murdered.
 
In addition I wanted I some private time to see if I could read just what the fascist government of Richard M. Nixon had in mind for me, and also to determine if God was really talking to me or if, as psycho-fascist America saying, I was being delusional.
 
What I found was that Nixon had mind-rape and torture and false imprisonment in mind for me, and that God was there on the road beside me.
 
So, in the course of this hitchhiking around for several days I found myself alone on a dark street near the Pacific Ocean, straight across the peninsula from the San Francisco airport, and I was weary and I was hungry, so I called in God's marker.
 
Walking along that dark street I reminded God that I had been promised a bowl of rice if I were hungry, and I asked God to give me, right then and there, a bowl of rice.
 
In answer, beside me on my left stood a very tall but invisible presence who could be felt but not seen; and that presence, so much taller than I, draped his right arm over my right shoulder, and with an invisible outstretched arm and invisible hand pointed to a place a few feet above the ground perhaps 20 yards ahead of us.
 
As I watched, as I followed the event during every second of is taking place, a dollar bill came out of thin air and fell to the ground.
 
I picked up the dollar, and after walking a block or two came upon a Chinese restaurant, where I bought fried rice, soup, and tea for a little less than a dollar.
 
That is the story of the Little Miracle I am today calling, "100 Pennies from Heaven".
 
 
 
 

Suggestion

Seek the Beauty.   Beauty heals.
 
I was hiking along a wilderness trail one summer day and I saw a beautiful golden brown bear crossing a meadow to my left, dainty as a delicate dancer in the high grass, happy, feeling the sun on her back.
 
I turned to continue my walk and around the corner walking contentedly toward me came her mate.  I stopped and looked at him and he stopped and looked at me; and what I saw was power and beauty; and what he saw was a scrawny man with short pants and skinny legs, big red backpack on his back, floppy hat on his head, and mirrored ski glasses covering his eyes; and the bear turned and ran, his big flop-flopping paws sounding not so different from a horse's hoofs pounding soft ground.
 
I was feeling good about myself, dynamic man chasing the bears away; but that was not to last because the female was furious with me for chasing off her mate, and she started walking behind me, pushing me along with her nose, making that hollow-log grunting sound you can sometimes hear bears making in the high wilderness; and thus nudging me she took me to her cave and forced me to stay with her there for two weeks, until she tired of me and pushed me out.
 
For years afterward there has been the story of a boy-foot bear with cheek of man who wanders through the wilderness.  You might know him as Big Foot.  I am his father.
 
Seek the Beauty, and a sense of humor helps, too.
 
This is your first lesson on how to survive the end of the world as you know it, and how to work with God to save God's Earth from death, now less than 60 years away.
 
 

Paper Boat, Hurricane Sea

America's torture-enslavement of me after I became the only audible mental telepath in human history is the precise equivalent of  Nazi Germany's concentration camp torture-enslavement of millions of people.
 
If you are an American you likely do not see it this way, but both crimes bear the Seal of Satan, the only differences are in form and numbers.
 
There is an additional element of satanic criminality in America's torture-enslavement of me in that the American people personally, willingly, willfully, and enthusiastically took on the roles barbed wire and gas chambers played in Germany.
 
I note this as we approach the sweet event called Judgement Day.
 
Damnation, damned nation, that is what we a talking about; and unless I am totally misreading what is going on, America does not realize how much trouble it is in with God.
 
That is what this current demonstration is meant to point out.  There are millions of Americans who think they are right with God but who are in dire trouble with God; and there are millions of Americans who don't give a damn about God who are in dire trouble with God.
 
I have been asked to try to describe that trouble for you.  Think of the tsunami, the hurricanes, and the earthquakes going off around the world like a string of firecrackers these days.
 
Hold that thought in one hand.
 
Now picture the Congress, the White House, the Supreme Court, and lump all the TV news media together as obedient twins talking out of the left and right sides of their mouths.
 
Hold that picture in your other hand.
 
Now, if you believe in God clap your hands.
 
That is what God is going to do to the United States of America.
 
That aspect of America's upper crust I have just described are paper fools on a fools' paper boat in God's hurricane sea.  I will explain this further:  they have absolutely no power.
 
This is Wednesday.  You can expect a demonstration of this on or about Monday, October 31, Halloween Day; we Space Sailors are calling it "Hot Water Day".  Bear in mind, this will be just a squall, not the full-blast storm that is coming.
 
A very important aspect of America's torture-enslavement of me is that it is not an exception to the general American pattern; that is, it is not a freak response to a freak situation.  Rather, it is further confirmation of the fascist lie America is.
 

Judas Journalism

The focus of God's approaching attack on the United States of America becomes clear, Big Money and its piece of ass, Journalism.
 
Victory is close enough to smell today; tomorrow I will be able to hear the knees of my enemy knocking together.
 
I see a claw of the Beast coming toward me.  Remember, Dear Reader, this space war military exercise is to cut only to the quick, not to cut the paw off.  That comes a little later.

Turning Your Back on Satan

(Let's begin with a four-paragraph patch.  Today's piece, Turning Your Back on Satan, was written before yesterday's piece, Government Pigs, but I was asked to publish yesterday's piece first.  Long term readers may recognize this constituted an advance documentation of the attack Monday on the Palestine Hotel in Baghdad, an advance documentation God asked me to establish.
 
(I will explain.  This is because in this work I have always used two terms jointly and in the same order, Government Pigs and Media Weasels, and the Palestine Hotel houses foreign journalists, that is, foreign media weasels; so the pattern was continued in the news.
 
(While not an important advance documentation, perhaps, it begs the question:  Why has journalism betrayed Virgil Kret, damned good journalist and the only audible mental telepath in human history?  By extension it asks:  What does it take to end that betrayal?
 
(Since I am pointing out codes today, the title of today's piece contains a code.  The phase is usually "Turn your back on Satan", and the use of "Turning" here suggests your back will be turned for you.)
 
-0-
 
Last Friday we established in rough form the Timing Code of God's attack on the wealthy and powerful of the United States of America.
 
I plan today to fine tune that code somewhat, and I expect very soon to see a remarkable divine attack on the dictating force of America, Big Money, an attack which matches the Timing Code.  As I told you yesterday, I am expecting that attack to begin on or about October 31, Halloween.
 
To make myself clear at the outset, this event I am anticipating will not be a human-generated event; that is, not an event of sabotage, terrorism, assassination, madness, or revolution, and most certainly not of Republican American Fascism's planned expansion.
 
It will reveal God's power, or, for the atheists among you, an inexplicable phenomenon or an event of huge mathematical improbability will occur.
 
As I look at this approaching event I am thinking this event might be great enough to free me from America's torture-enslavement,
 
I think the best thing for me to do for you today is continue to show you the battle map which had stopped at "Slippery Slope", the event which later became the destruction of New Orleans.  The battle map was always meant to go on, but the closing down by America of my previous Internet site prevented its being finished.
 
That said, let's return to the scene I described to you on Friday when I had been saved by a tree, as God had told me the day before I would be.
 
You may recall that my pack, scooting down the slippery slope beside me, had continued on over the cliff and crashed upon the boulders of the stream below, breaking its frame, like my back would have been broken had it not been for God's promised tree .
 
I love the peeks into the future God gives me now and then.  Well, "now and then" is not accurate; daily, hourly, and sometimes minute by minute.
 
The scene I described to you, my slide toward doom interrupted by a pre-announced tree, was of course a real event, as was the six-week backpacking trip through untrailed wilderness with no resupply this war map is based on.
 
God asked me perhaps a year ago to use this hike as an overlay to this war map because God knows how much I loved that hike and the other deep wilderness long duration hikes I have taken.
 
That is, (Do you understand ?) God has been altering human events to coincide with that map
 
America having cut off its nose to spite its face by closing down the Internet site on which that map was posted and followed, I cannot refer you to evidence.  Bad luck for the rich and powerful of America, but I do not think it is bad luck for you real people.
 
Now let's fill in the rest of the map, there are only a few more miles to go before we reach the Pacific Ocean.
 
As we do that, let's create a metaphor in which we see the pack, the broken pack, as representing the rich and powerful, whom we lug upon our backs and think we cannot do without.  Dear Reader,  we think that is true because we are told that by the rich and powerful over and over and over again, while they blind us and rob us blind.
 
I am saying if the rich do not change God will remove them from God's Earth, and in that case you are going to have to learn to get along without them, so start getting used to the idea because the rich are sure as Hell are planning on get along without you.
 
So, to return to our narrative and my to attempt to work out the timing of this approaching most remarkable space war event.
 
After having stopped my slide toward death by putting me feet up so they hit the trunk of the fallen tree I was about to slide under, I caught my breath for a minute, and decided to find out where I was.
 
By this time it was dark, as dark as a Republican American Fascist's heart, and I climbed up upon the log and made my way along the length of it, feeling for branches and tapping like a blind man with my Chinese fighting stave, which I had somehow held onto.
 
As I did this my old friend, my Angel, said in her sweet voice, "Death is as easy as falling off a log?"  Funny Angel, don't you think?
 
I moved along the log until I reached a point where it was lying on the ground and not three feet above it where I came aboard.  I stepped down from the log and tapped my way along, and saw in the faint light a small tree and made my way there, thinking I might find a flat place to spend the night.
 
What I am about to tell you now I did not discover until the next morning, but as I walked to that tree I walked along the face of a cliff where there in the morning seemed to be absolutely no foot holds.  There were of course, I did not float across the void, but it was blind luck or God who put my feet in just the right place at each step, and I suppose it was God since I am not that lucky.   I would never have attempted the same walk had it been daylight, so treacherous it was.
 
So, having walked across that zone I would never have dared to walk across had it been daylight I came to the little tree, which I found to be standing right on the edge of the cliff (again somewhat like in the childhood dream I told you about Friday).
 
It arced out a little at perhaps a 25 degree angle and then shot up straight; so I could sit on that part of the trunk that was angled over the cliff face, dangle my legs and put my arms around the part of the tree that was vertical and hold on for dear life; not unlike, I thought at the time, a boy on his hobbyhorse.
 
Then, of course, being human I began to grouse and bitch, I'm cold, its foggy and damp, I don't have my coat, I am going to have to sit here eight hours until the sun comes up, woe is me, woe is me.
 
And God said, "Virgil, you're not dead, are you?"
 
As the night went on I became too sleepy to be kept awake by the cold, so I looped my belt through a root that ran just above the ground, and so attached, fell asleep.
 
In the morning I made my way with great difficulty down to the stream, losing in the process my Chinese fighting stave.
 
I reached the stream, drank quite a bit of water, and walked upstream to retrieve my broken pack and with it my sleeping bag, and there saw the horrible steep cliff God had saved me from.
 
I was six weeks out and had almost no food left.  If I recall I chewed on a little uncooked oatmeal, then lay down on the sunny, warm grass by the stream and slept a beautiful, deep sleep, the Sleep of the Lucky to be Alive.
 
Now to continue drawing the map, there are only two more stops to it.
 
I made my way down stream and suddenly came upon a man-made trail, the first I had seen in about two weeks.   As I walked along it I came upon a hot springs around which a pool had been molded by human hands.
 
I had my first warm bath in six weeks.
 
Then I walked along on the remarkably good trail and came to a large camping area, with outhouses and fire rings.  I was accidentally on land owned by the University of California, but there was no other way to the ocean, and I did not realize what a dire violation I had committed.  I slept a good sleep, my greatest wilderness adventure almost over.
 
In the morning I was awakened by a young man who was paid to guard the place, and he rudely ordered me to move along, coughing the cowardly fascist torture-cough, like I was a bum at the Ritz or something; and fortunately for us both he had his girlfriend with him, and fortunately for us both I had lost my Chinese fighting stave, because I had been six weeks in deep wilderness and I was hard as nails and could with ease swing my Chinese fighting stave three thousand times over my head like a samurai sword without stopping; and I just did not feel like being hounded by yet another fascist American.
 
So I packed up, of course, slowly, of course, with the fascist American hounding me, of course, cough cough cough cough, and he drove me to the gate which was across Highway One from the Pacific, thereby finishing the hike and thereby marking the place on the map where I will be victorious.
 
So, you can expect events to re-enact the latter part of the hike in this way:  The rich and powerful will reach the hot springs on about Halloween, and there they will learn their souls are in hot water.  At the next stop they will be ordered to repent or leave the planet; and failing to do that they will be driven into the sea.
 
Remember now, this is metaphor; but perhaps you can see how the Slippery Slope metaphor being played out in the destruction of New Orleans.
 
Now all we do, you and I, is watch the news and see how this plays out; and in the mean time I will tell you more about how our Earth is going to be dead in less than sixty years, and suggest some ways you might work with God to save it.
 
 

Government Pigs

We are tracking the death of our Earth, now less than 60 years away; and we are currently tracking a space war attack on a considerable number of rich and powerful Americans; and I thought I might talk a bit today about how it has happened that those rich and powerful Americans are going to find themselves in Hell within a few weeks.
 
To be sure, they will be there because God is going to start sending them there in a most remarkable way--I think beginning on about October 31--but how they have come to this sad fate is a story of the dog leading the master into a pit.
 
It is a peculiar irony that American government pigs are sending these rich and powerful Americans to the Hell they so richly deserve.  As it turns out, those who live by the government pig shall die by the government pig.
 
To be sure, the rich and powerful are going to Hell because they deserve to go there for their own damnable crimes, but it was their hireling government pigs who kept the truth of Heaven and Hell from them, and who began and led the persecution of America's telepathic torture-slave, me, Virgil Kret, the man who could have warned them of their danger dozens of years ago.
 
A peculiar irony indeed.
 
Why didn't the government pigs like me from the start?  I don't know, perhaps it was the shape of my head as Alabama's wounded governor, George Wallace, once said of the way British journalists thought about him.
 
I sometimes think it is because I have never committed crime and they so want me to so they can punish me legally.  Sure, I have smoked a few tons of grass and I sometimes drive 66 in a 65 zone just for the thrill of it, but they accused me of treason, accused me in secret of course.
 
The remarkable thing about the government pigs is that once naval intelligence began to attack me in Tokyo, tried to get me murdered by the Japanese left in Tokyo, the other government pigs joined in on the attack, each believing the other's lies about me, each making up new lies of their own.
 
I have had government pigs go to my dear mother's home and tell her I was a traitor and to warn her that if she told me they had been there her retired navy husband would lose his pension.  I have had government pigs intentionally set out to destroy my marriage and my career in journalism.  I have had government pigs plan to murder me or murder my wife and put the blame on me.
 
When God made of me the only audible mental telepath in human history in about 1972 it was, in part, to save me from the murderous plots of government pigs.
 
I don't care to make today's report a review of the crimes committed against my by government pigs, and I would not have enough memory in this computer to do that anyway, but rather to I mean to review something of what those crimes against me have cost you.
 
Since for the time being I am not going to track this upcoming space war attack on the rich and powerful, code-named "Roll-Over"; and since you will recognize it anyway when it happens from what I have already told you; and since I am not interested in saving the God-damned souls of the rich and powerful; I thought I might review some of the things I have warned you of in advance but you were not able to avoid of because of your God-damned government pigs.
 
The highest cost, of course, was that master military stroke against the United States of America, that stroke loved so much by the Americans because it gives them license to endlessly murder, I mean of course that stroke generally called "9/11".
 
I could have stopped the 9/11 attack so easily.
 
I was on to it months in advance.
 
In the final 48 hours I knew the New York City target would be in Lower Manhattan, and at least two weeks in advance that hijacked commercial jets would be used.
 
I recorded this in advance with the government pig District Attorney of San Luis Obispo County, California, with NBC's Today show, with a local punk anchorman, with the fascist next door neighbor who had spent a year torturing me into irregular heartbeat, and with somebody in Pennsylvania whose name escapes me now.
 
Of course their asses are now covered, that's the American Way.
 
Think about it for a few seconds, think about how much my being America's torture slave cost America that day.
 
Go beyond the towers and those killed in them, go beyond the Pentagon and those killed there, go beyond the horror experienced by the victimized airliner occupants; think of what came later as a direct result:   Afghanistan and Iraq, and possibly soon Syria, and then another country, and another country, and another, and another, and, and, and...while the fuse of the bomb that explodes our Earth goes on burning unnoticed and unsnuffed.
 
Then of course there was that long lost space shuttle "Challenger".  I telepathically told thousands of the fascist citizens of Seattle about that disaster starting at least a month in advance; and I told that two-bit California Senator Dianne Feinstein, and I told that whore newspaper the Seattle Times, and I told that failed intelligence service, the CIA, in a series of letters in advance.
 
Of course their asses are now covered, that's the American Way.
 
Over the years there have been too many accurate warnings to list in one day, most involving the deaths of Americans; probably in the area of ten thousand Americans already dead, and still counting.
 
Think of the Jonesboro school shooting, children killing children, that creeping American horror that now and then shows itself, I documented that in advance; consider the many airline crashes I documented in advance; consider the fact that this current "president" of the United States of America will destroy the world, which I have well documented in advance.
 
Understand, all this death and disaster began with the standard contempt for the Constitution held by American government pigs.  But for a nail a shoe was lost...but for a government pig America was lost.
 
I don't know if you have ever been messed over or illegally arrested by an ordinary American cop; if not you are a rare bird in this cage, probably white and not bad off; if you have you have seen how a cop had utmost disrespect for your rights and for the truth in writing the citation.
 
Considering the blatant freedom the public cop has to do that, how much greater do you suppose the freedom of the invisible cop is?  The FBI, rats; the Secret Service, rats; military intelligence; rats; the Central Intelligence Agency, stupid asses.
 
Sure, I have seen the movies and the television shows and I know all the apples are not rotten, but I have also had those rats gnawing on my life nearly 40 years, and I have watched the CIA totally, totally, totally drop the ball time after time after time.
 
Here I am mixing metaphors; pigs and rats and dogs and asses; I must be getting more sloppy with age.
 
I suggest, Dear Reader, that as I have said there is a special place in Hell for baby killers, and a special place in hell for rich and powerful planet killers, there is a special place in Hell for government pigs.
 
The currently most famous government pig herd in Hell is the Gestapo, but all government pigs are of the same sow mother; they constitute a fascist government unto themselves, a secret club-government that judges and punishes in secret and exists in every country and has existed in every century.
 
Their place in Hell is called Satan's Pig Bar-B-Q Pit.
 
 

A Slave's Dilemma

This is the second report of the day, not usual but not rare.
 
Here's my problem; call it Christian Confusion.
 
I have been sitting here for two days with enough information to save the lives of quite a few rich and powerful fascist Americans.  They may not be fascists to you but they are fascists to me, and I have some 40 years of torture-enslavement to prove it.
 
The question is, should I save their lives or not?  Added to this dilemma is the fact that they are damned to immediate Hell for certain if I don't, and most likely damned to later Hell if I do since they are not likely to change their ways..  What are they damned for?  As you may already know, their most important part in the murder of our Earth, and God knows for what else.
 
If baby killers go to Hell, where would planet killers go?
 
So, to save or not to save, that is the Christian Confusion; but then, it is not my business to save, I am just a raggedy assed old journalist chasing down a story, writing The Obituary of the World.
 
And here's the thing, if I save their lives they'll just spit in my eye; if I save their lives they will say, "See, it is good we have him enslaved, look how well he serves us".
 
What would you do if you were in my shoes?  Would you let the bastards bleed?
 
What am I?  Hamlet of the news business today?

Break

A little break in the action today.  I know the space war attack sequence through early November, so there if plenty of time to fill you in.  The attack is on America's rich and powerful, after all; so what's the hurry?
 
Today I want to point out something that may be obvious to you; that being the similarity between the responses to Katrina victims and quake victims in Pakistan; that being that people are left to die.
 
This is the beginning of a pattern; this is how the world ends; each part is neglected by the whole; and until the electricity stops all watch it on the telly.
 
 

The Timing Code

Yesterday I outlined for you the approaching space war attack on the rich and powerful of America,  liberal and conservative, Democrat and Republican, Christian and Jew, and today I have the Timing Code for that attack..
 
It is one thing to say America is going to get its just reward; but it is another to say just when that reward will be presented.  That is part of the art of this work.
 
To get the Timing Code we go back to the place on our original battle map called "Slippery Slope", that place where the United States of America began its slide into Darkness; that is,  when the destruction of New Orleans took place.  You do understand, don't you, that America's slide into Darkness and Defeat as begun?
 
On the surface, the destruction of New Orleans was a good thing for the rich and powerful of America because there is money to be squandered and stolen there, and land to be bought at five cents on the dollar, and blacks to be replaced by whites, and casinos to be built, and tall Vegas whores to be flown in, and slick lizard lounge hotspots to replace scruffy old jazz clubs; and it all will come out of your pockets.
 
Disaster means windfall profits for the rich and greater power for the politicians.
 
However, while it looks as if the poor will suffer more and more as our Earth moves toward death, her deathbed shudders tearing houses apart and making homeless and rootless those poor they do not kill, God is now going to begin visibly killing and damning the rich; Jesus told you that, and I am telling you that, too.
 
We were talking about the Timing Code.  I will get there soon but first I want to talk to you about the shape of the war between our God and Satan's Rich and how it will become visible as God's intervention becomes greater, and greater, and greater, and inexorably greater.
 
Yesterday I described to you the shape of the coming maneuver, called "Roll-Over", the Timing Code to which I am today meandering toward; but for the moment I ask you to look at the grandeur and scope of God's larger battle plan.
 
Please picture in your mind a pyramid as you pictured trench lines yesterday.  It is a flat pyramid like the government-printed food pyramid that comes out now and then.  See the top three percent of the pyramid to be occupied by the rich, and below them in expanding layers are the somewhat rich, the not so rich, the middle class, the second class, the third class, and the miserably poor.
 
The plan of Republican American Fascism is to exploit the approaching death of our Earth by using the crisis to save the rich and kill off the rest.
 
God's plan is just the opposite except that God is only going to kill as many of the rich that it takes to bring a point of understanding among the rich that they would be better off saving their souls from Hell than profiting from misery.
 
Think of the phrase, "Get Rich Quick", but consider "Quick" to be the quick of the finger that hurts so bad when the nail is trimmed too short and you will begin to understand God's battle plan.  God is going to trim the rich until their quick is touched.
 
Now, finally, to the Timing Code.  Bear with me, this will take about nine more paragraphs to get to it.
 
The lost battle map was based on a most beautiful six-week hike I took through untrailed California wilderness moving east to west to the Pacific Ocean.  During the years of American torture-enslavement I have taken many such long hikes, but this was the longest and the most difficult, and the only one in which the goal was the Pacific, a good goal because even a fool could not miss it.
 
The place marked "Slippery Slope" was a place where in fact I almost slipped to my death...no, that is not true because God told me about Slippery Slope the day before I reached it, and told me I would slide down a steep incline but be saved.
 
God reminded me of a dream I had when I was about eight years old.  In the dream my  father, mother, brother and I were driving through the Rocky Mountains in our 1941 Plymouth coupe and we stopped to look down the mountain slope to the valley below.
 
Standing there, seeing the tall northern firs looking like mown grass from that height, I slipped and began sliding down the slope toward a precipice and a fall into the valley, but I was stopped when I ran into a burned out tree right at the edge of that precipice.  At that point I woke up.
 
That was the dream God reminded me of.  I made a note of my remembering that dream in my log of the hike; and the next evening, hiking too late in failing light, hiking on deer trails where no man had walked in 50 years, I decided I could make my way down a sleep slope to the stream, but soon found myself in trouble because it was too steep to go down and impossible to climb back up; and there I was foolish hiker in fool's danger.
 
I felt I could inch my way down if I lowered my pack ahead of me on a line attached to a bush, then when I reached the pack attach the line to another bush and lower further, and so on, artfully sliding on my ass as I went.
 
Well, in the fading light I did not realize that I was approaching a point where dirt covered with leaves became granite covered with leaves, slicker than any child's slide, slicker than any politicians lies, and I began sliding on my back faster and faster and faster, and as I passed my pack at the end of its line I gave it a whack to start it sliding beside me.
 
Aw, Dear Reader, what should appear rapidly approaching me as I was sliding toward my death but a fallen tree under which I was about to slide, and I raised my legs and stopped myself on it, and my pack slid on making a whirring sound it was sliding so fast, then the sound stopped, no sound for what seemed like a few long seconds, and then a crash as my pack hit the boulders of the stream beneath the cliff I had been sliding toward, breaking its frame as I would have broken my back.
 
So, let's make that tree that saved my life the start of the Timing Code, and continue with this narrative tomorrow.  As we do, remember I am the fool who slipped and stopped himself on a tree just as God said I would, and the rich and the powerful are that pack sliding on, sliding on, sliding on, inexorably sliding on, just as I say they will.
 
 

China

I have been asked to present you with a battle map today; and those who know me know when I say "asked" I mean asked by God.
 
An interesting feature about this map is that it is called "China", but China is not on this map.  In fact, the only place shown on this map is the continental United States of America.
 
I know to some extent why this map is called China, and I will get to that; but first I want to describe for you the battle that is about to take place in the United States of America, the space war battle; and those who know me know when I say "space war" I mean God's forceful intervention in the course of humankind.
 
Those have read my work for over a year will know I ran another war map which fairly well documented a number of space war attacks on America in advance of their taking place and in roughly the time frame the war map indicated..
 
The final destination point on that map was called "Slippery Slope", but before we could reach that point America shut my site down, so only the most astute readers know Slippery Slope turned out to be New Orleans.
 
This all took place before this site was opened.
 
So, let's spread this new battle map out on our base camp table and see if we can get a grasp of  what is going to happen, and learn why this battle map called China.
 
Picture the United States as a World War One battlefield, trenches running across its width, liberal fascists on one side and conservative fascists on the other, locked in strife and petty glory while the world dies from their actions and their lack of action..
 
You might also see this as a American Civil War battlefield with skirmish lines stretching across the country, yet different from that civil war in that both sides agree to the slavery of these times, that being America's torture-enslavement.of me, Virgil Kret, the only audibly telepathic human being in human history.
 
I cannot overstate the importance of America's torture-enslavement of me.
 
The suggestion of this work since America enslaved me some 33 years ago has been that I was made audibly telepathic as a test of the American soul; that test being called, "The Litmus Paper Ambush" and that America failed that test miserably.
 
Now, just one more metaphorical description of the battle lines on this map and I think you will see the form of the space war attack on the United States of America that is about to take place.
 
Picture an American football game with the two teams on the line of scrimmage waiting for the ball to be put into play by the Center of the offensive team, and see the defensive team braced and poised to respond; and now see a third team in two parts in position at both ends of the line of scrimmage.
 
As the ball is hiked and the play begins that third team is going to attack the two teams.  This attack is called "Roll-Over".
 
Understand, the third team is not neutral, the third team hates both fascist teams equally.
 
Now to the map's name, China, which also is this space war maneuver's code name.
 
As space war codes often are, this is a compressed code containing many elements.
 
The first of these is a phrase I have frequently used, "God is going to kick America's ass all the way to China".
 
The second is my recent statement that God intends to present China with a gift, and that I expected that gift to be presented in connection with China's recent space flight.
 
My feeling was the Chinese astronauts would experience something or photograph something that would reveal to China that something remarkable is going on.  I have not seen any mention of this in the media, so I do not know if anything along these lines took place.
 
The third aspect of this compressed China code is very clear to me.
 
When you project the course of Republican American Fascism and its growing war with Islam, and then its growing but inept struggles with the natural disasters accompanying the breaking up of our Earth by 2060, and then its playing out a contrived fulfillment of the jumbled prophesies of the final book of the New Testament, you will see that sooner or later, and likely sooner, the United States of American will rain a good number of its 7,000 nuclear warheads down on China.
 
This has been part of the secret agenda of Republican American Fascism since well before it stole the 2000 presidential election; and contained in this secret agenda is the true reason Republican American Fascism invaded Iraq.
 
Republican American Fascism's plan, Dear Reader, is to drastically reduce the population of the world by splattering the world with nuclear warheads.  China goes, Korea goes, India goes, Black Africa goes, most of Islam goes, and much of South and Central America goes.
 
 After this nuclear bombardment, this satanic "Shock and Awe", the chosen from within the United States of America and from around the world, the rich and the powerful, their mercenary guards, their servants, their serfs and their pets, inherit the cinder ball.
 
Nuclear Winter becomes the solution to global warming and mass genocide becomes the solution to overpopulation, fire becomes the cure of all plagues, all done according to an insane interpretation of the will of God.
 
God is going to stop this; and God is going to damn more rich Americans than there are rich Americans alive.  God is so furious at the United States of America for the evil it has done and the evil it intends to do that God is going to damn rich Americans long since dead.
 
That's what we Space Sailors mean when we say, "Even yesterday is not safe," and that is what Jesus meant when he said, "It is harder for a rich man to get into Heaven than a camel through the Needle's Eye.
 
Stay tuned, Dear Reader, stay tuned.
 
 
 
 

Kicking The Dead Horse

It seems I have been kicking the Dead Horse of American Liberty pretty hard lately; Jesus didn't kick Lazarus, but then Lazarus didn't stinketh so much.
 
I thought I'd just run a riff today, twang my banjo and see if any toes start a-tapping.  Also, I have been asked to talk about abortion, so I will.
 
News services cover a broad plateau, and my own I.C. News is no exception.
 
Lacking in freedoms of press or speech, however,  I.C. News' making a profit is not easy; so unlike CNN and the other boys in the club I cannot hire a correspondent in Moscow, either Russia or Idaho, and I have to rely on unpaid Angel stringers.
 
Sure, I have a bureau on the dark side of the Moon, and Angels enjoy my morning report as far away as the Horse Head Nebula, but it's lonely here out front in the news game, and I never get invited to the Press Club for a drink.
 
Those were the good old days, working the overnight trick in Tokyo, my UPI boss keeping a bottle of whisky in his desk drawer and I having reasonable access to it.  I didn't have freedom of the press then either; what I had, what American journalists in general still have today, was a very pleasant illusion of freedom.
 
Vietnam busted up that illusion for me.
 
It was one thing to have every word I wrote in Tokyo subject to change by half-baked, hot-shot desk boys in New York City who wouldn't know the truth about Asia if it bit them on the ass, because after working my newsman self all night long in the UPI Tokyo bureau I had my Yokohama Mama waiting with coffee and kisses when I got home.  That is, perks fill the gaps the lack of freedom leaves.
 
In Vietnam, however, the value of the truth and keeping that truth in the story all the way to the reader was hammered home to me with machine-gun staccato.
 
Understand, it was impossible, utterly impossible, to get a UPI story from the battlefield to the newspaper looking at all like it did when it was written.  Along the way were a dozen little minds with license to change it.
 
The changes were almost always pathetic and stupid; and it always made me feel sick to my stomach to have my good name in bold face type over those changes.
 
Fellow journalists thought I was as stick in the mud about this, they hummed the tune "that is the way things are", but check out this one example of many, perhaps you will see what I mean.
 
There had been an American Army company three-quarters wiped out a day's walk from their base camp at Dak To.  It was one of those stories that sting to report.  The enemy lost three dead at most, but the American company commander boasted he had killed 450. The enemy had controlled the battlefield for hours after the fight, had gone around shooting the wounded and taking food and cigarettes from the bodies, but leaving the M-16s behind because they were better armed with their AK-47s.
 
So after that story was filed, yelled into ears in Saigon over a static-filled phone line, I was walking around picking up pieces of that terrible story that lay around like crumbs from Satan's birthday cake, and I saw a Roman Catholic priest saying mass for about six survivors; and I walked a little further and came to a big-tent hospital outside of which was a pile of bloody uniforms and boots and bandages, residue of the constant slaughter.
 
So I wrote about that...here the priest saying mass for survivors, there the pile of bloody debris...but when the story came out in the newspaper, when the folks back home read it, the priest, now called "padre",  was depicted as kneeling in front of the bloody debris praying for the dead, and the survivors had been deleted.
 
This might mean nothing to you, but I had risked my life to get that little bit of truth; and anyway, a priest would not do that..
 
Of course I was told  when I complained that was how the system works; but I knew then and I still know now, that is why the system does not work.  Little people messing with big events.
 
You have few free journalists serving you.  They are bought and paid for, and more easily replaced than broken cups; and they know it, and they kiss ass accordingly.
 
That said as I pass time while building up enough energy to kick that dead horse again, I will write about what I was asked by God to write about today:  Abortion.
 
I rarely speak to this subject because the lines are as deeply drawn as First World War trenches, and although I have new information to bring to the subject neither side wants to hear it.
 
On the cartoonish level which this most profound of debates is being carried out, the Liberal Pro-Abortion people seem to object the killing of all human beings except human beings in the womb; and the Conservative Anti-Abortion people seem willing to kill all people except people in the womb.
 
There is, however, a remarkable point of agreement between these two warring factions in that both agree that my children, Virgil Kret's children, have no right to be born.
 
The Liberals and Conservatives, the Democrats and Republicans, the Christians and the Jews, the Good Guys and the Bad Guys, all support the torture-enslavement of God's One True Telepath, and part of that torture-enslavement, part of the fun of that torture-enslavement, is preventing the conception of my children.
 
This fact colors my view of those people, but not my view of abortion.  I suggest to you mass abortion is one of the great tragedies and errors of human history; you might all of you have drunk poison Kool-Aid.
 
According to what I know, the solving of any problem by killing human beings is never a solution to the problem.  "Thou shalt not kill" means Thou shalt not kill, and you think you can edit this and change that, you can kneel the priest of it in front of the bloody pile of it; but I say you in fact cannot; and the aborting those of human beings will bring the future to punch you in the nose and the past to bite your ass.
 
There is yet another layer to my view of abortion, that is that the human being is a reincarnating-evolving being, and that each succeeding generation is equipped to deal with the world as it finds it.
 
So, when you abort millions of members of a generation you create a hole within the divine genius of that generation, you kill off the Einsteins, you kill off the Buddhas, you kill of the Jesuses, you kill off the Mozarts, the Beethovens; the Babe Ruths and the Bob Hopes...and further, and this is a terribly important point, you shell-shock the ones you let through.
 
I do not know if you are really ready to know what the human race is, so I am going to hold off on this subject for a time and see if there are any toes a-tapping to this banjo-strumming, hold off and see if anyone, pro or con, wants to know just how important each human fetus is.  Otherwise I am just kicking a dead human race.
 
 
 
 

Proof of Damnation

I have hot news for you today.  I warn you, it will shiver your timbers if you wrap your mind around it.
 
On this site on Saturday, in the report entitled "The Angel Game", I documented in advance an event that was in the news Monday.
 
That news was America's bombing of two Iraqi villages.
 
Further I documented that the killing of civilians in that event was intentional and not accidental or "collateral damage"; and further I documented the damnation of those Americans who knew of the nature of that mission.
 
Are you ready to step into this buzz saw of this Truth?
 
We were talking yesterday of how God and I communicate, and today I am demonstrating for you a time-dated example of instructions from God to me relative to what goes into this work.
 
You should read what God asked me to write in the context of what I have told you relative to the fact that no murderer of a child in the history of the human race has ever escaped damnation by God.
 
You get my drift, I am sure.
 
To repeat, on Saturday I documented the murders of children by the United States of America in advance of their taking place, murders first falsely reported in the news on Monday as the killing of Iraqi combatants, later information saying close to half of the approximately 70 dead were civilians, including women and children.  As of the time of this posting that news story still seems to be developing.
 
Now let me make this clear.  Those in the planning of that mission and those in the ordering of its being carried out--and perhaps even those who carried it out--were involved in the intentional murdering of Iraqi children, this according to what God asked me to write about the event before the event took place.
 
And let me make this even more clear, all those who knew the nature of that mission lost their souls when the first of those murdered children died.  We are talking about the Second Coming of Jesus Christ here; we are talking about Judgement Day.
 
Now let's turn to the proof of this as published in this work on Saturday in the report entitled, The Angel Game.  The proof was in the first two paragraphs of that report, and how those paragraphs got there is very, very interesting.
 
To give you some background, I generally write the first drafts of these reports the day before they come out, and do the final draft around four or five a.m. on the day they come out.
 
This allows me to re-approach the work with fresh eyes a few hours after it has been written, and to get input from God (and we are talking about my talking to God here) when my intellect is asleep and my soul is awake, that being just as I am waking up.
 
Sometimes at that time God will suggest the theme of the next day's writing, or suggests a change in the writing I am just about to finish and post.
 
That latter point was the case on Saturday morning, and you can bow see the patch God suggested I add to the top of the work I had done the day before.
 
That patch read:
 
"You know, Dear Reader, America always has the best of reasons for doing the worse of things; and America always says "Sham! Shame!" of the other side's slain babies but hides away its own baby trophies mounted on its own hidden trophy wall."I mention this in passing today because America, my America, is putting on its halo today in advance of doing a wicked, wicked thing."
 
That patch should not be considered a prediction of what was about to happen but rather a demonstration that God was incensed at what was about to happen; and it is worth noting that I was given the honor of recording God's displeasure.
 
Now here is how I look at that event, knowing as I do that God asked me to document it for you in advance.  While it is sanitized by America, while the innocent dead fit snugly into the category of collateral damage, a category which in itself is considered a fraud and a felony by God, I see that God called it a "wicked, wicked thing" when it was already planned but before it took place.
 
God, in my experience, does not call legitimate acts of war "wicked".
 
So, while we can see America's halo shining in the sunlight of self-praise we know that halo was self-awarded and not awarded by God.
 
There is a historical military constant of the use of this kind of terror by occupying armies to punish the populace, usually in response to actions of the inevitable resistance fighters.  The German Nazis were infamous for this, and the United States of America practiced this extensively in Vietnam.
 
I have told you several times in this work of a 1967 interview I had with a 101st Division trooper who was assigned to a team the primary purpose of which was to kill Vietnamese civilians in Viet Cong controlled areas.  The trooper expressed it this way:  "We are going to addle Charlie's brain by killing Charlie's children."
 
That was not a matter of Grunts gone wild or of collateral damage, it was a matter of deliberate murder as policy from higher up.  The suggestion here is God is saying this policy exists in Iraq today.
 
That the other side practiced the same thing in Vietnam is a given; just as that the other side practices the same thing in Iraq in a given; the problem here is the false halo America is forever wearing, America's forever praising itself to High Heaven.
 
It is not unpatriotic for me to say this, it is good intelligence.
 
The greatest weakness of the United States of America is that it constantly lies to itself and believes the lies it tells to itself.  This allows it to do utmost wicked things and see itself as "The Good Guy"; but God and Man, God and Man, see The Good Guy as The Bad Guy.
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And I suggest that in Saturday's report here and Monday's news there you have a strong indication that God holds in contempt the United States of America for having killed those children, and more, for having planned to kill those children.
 
Since this came straight from the Horse's mouth I suggest this is a development worth noting, and a concept likely to present itself again in the near future.
 
To put this into its larger perspective, the United States of America is a major factor in the death of God's Earth now less than 60 years away; and God is not happy with the United States of America; and God is in the process of stopping the United States of America dead in its tracks.
 
That is one of the truths this work has gone a long way toward proving.