Shot-Calling & The 674-Soldier Delay

 
Do you realize there has not been American reported killed in Iraq since Thursday?  No news is good news.
 
That happy notation made, we are within six weeks of the American people knowing they have been defeated in Space War.  The persons staying in room 111 and 114 exercised their "right" to torture me awake, bringing the Soldier Delay figure to 674.
 
I wonder if you have guessed the nature of the Space War game we are playing.  We are letting my random motel neighbors determine how many Americans will be killed in Space War in June.
 
Cool, yes?
 
To review, I have said that during the month of June the American people will come to understand just how badly defeated they are, that their experience will be comparable to the moment all the passengers and all the crew of the Titanic knew the Titanic was sinking.
 
An aspect of that understanding will come from the fact that the awareness-bringing American death toll will exactly, exactly, exactly, exactly match the then current Soldier Delay figure, a figure to be determined by the random psycho-fascist Americans who occupy rooms 111 and 114 and participate in the particular stylized torture of rapping on the wall to wake me up.
 
Cool, yes?
 
There are other tortures going on of course, torturing God's One True Telepath is an American tradition, but for this demonstration we are only using that particular torture.
 
Dear Reader, this demonstration will run shivers up and down your spine.
 
You may recall when I first started talking about the June awakening of the American people I estimated the death count that would bring about that awakening to be one thousand, but my Great Partner in this endeavor suggested the figure would be more like three thousand.
 
As the American people are adding through their wall-rapping torture of me about 224 dead a day, and seeing that we are already at 674, it seems likely my Great Partner is, as usual, right.
 
If I recall correctly, we have only played this body count game once before, and with remarkable success if you allow for a bit of fudging.
 
This was during my hellish life in psycho-fascist San Francisco when I documented in advance every airline crash during about a two year period.  Every airline crash, dig it.  Eight Ball, side pocket.
 
In the course of documenting in advance one of those crashes I estimated the dead to be a very large number.  I do not recall the number exactly, but say it was 435.
 
So, when the plane crashed exactly when I said it would crash, only 430 people were killed, (Only!)  and I was walking along on a sidewalk jokingly complaining to my Great Partner about the disparity, and as I crossed a street a woman lurched her car forward to make me jump.
 
(That was a common form of torture in San Francisco at the time.  That form of torture lasted about a year; that is, for about a year I could not cross a street without cars being lurched at me.  Such is the psycho-fascism of the American people.)
 
I walked up to the driver's window and said something appropriate to her, and she shrieked something back at me with a pronounced New York Jewish accent.
 
Ok, so I resumed walking along and picked up my conversation with my Great Partner about the disparity in death toll in the crash, and my Great Partner said something to the effect of "wait", and very soon thereafter a helicopter crashed in downtown New York City, near the Pan Am building if I recall, killing exactly five people.
 
That is, those five dead Americans, added to those of the airline crash, made my guess accurate.
 
Call that fudging if you like, but I call it good Space War.
 
My advice to you, Dear Reader, is that you turn your back on Satan, turn your back on America's torture-enslavement of me.  If you see me in the supermarket do not pretend you to not know me, and don't do that cowardly American cough-torture; be decent to me and greet me, "Hello, Virgil, its nice to see you today".