Sport-Torture & The 1,345-Soldier Delay

 
This will be the last day I will concern myself with the torture from my neighbors, I have bigger fish to fry, but the Soldier Delay demonstration will continue, limited to the then current number in the daily headline.
 
I was wakened only once during the night by the current person in 114, bringing the then current total of American-determined American June death toll to Space War to 1,231; but unfortunately for those about to die, the new person in 111 awoke me from my noon siesta after only 45 minutes of sleep, bringing the total to 1,345.
 
This comparatively low count was due to a small plastic glass of vodka over ice which helped me into a dreamless sleep for a about five nighttime hours; the purpose of the rapping-on-the-wall torture being to disturb and disrupt my dream states, as well as to annoy me to distraction, as well as to murder me slowly.
 
You may think that I and my old pal, God, are making too much of this, but sleep deprivation is slow murder, and one of the favorite American tortures of Muslims in America's known and secret prisons; and sleep deprivation has been the core of America's torture of me for nearly 30 years, torturers even following me into deep wilderness, even seeking me out with helicopters.
 
Dream-prevention is also very damaging because dreams have healing and informative functions, and people like me who enjoy a good sit-down chit-chat with God find the dream state to be God's counsel chamber.
 
I find it very telling of the spiritual nature American people that they have in effect passed a de facto law against my having dreams.  Of course they have passed de facto laws against my having marriage, against my having sex, against my having children, against my having employment and enjoyment, against my having a home, against my having a church, and against my having a peaceful, productive life using the tools, talents and gifts God gave me.
 
I know the Americans like to think they have good reason for torturing me, and they call their torture of me something pretty, but in fact they love the sport-torture of it.  They get a rush from it, a high from it, fun from it, pleasure from it.  I see that satanic pleasure in their faces every day, and have seen it there for some 35 years.
 
When my neighbor in 114 awakened me last night, and I lay there for a few minutes deciding if I wanted to try to fall back to sleep only to be awakened again just at the point of drifting off, or if I wanted to get up and talk to you; and decided to get up.  When I did that there was a little boastful, triumphant cough from the American coward in 114, like he had accomplished something.
 
Cowards take pride in cowardly acts.
 
This is the American Way; this is what the American people are; this is why my God gave me the gift of audible mental telepathy, so the American people could better define themselves for Judgment Day, could take a time-dated self-photograph of their collective soul for the Wanted Poster of Space War.
 
Let's  review what I am expecting to see happen to the American people in June.  I am expecting them to reach a point of awareness, a point of awareness analogous to that reached by the passengers and crew of the Titanic at the point in time when everyone on board knew the Titanic was sinking.
 
I am not, repeat not, expecting this point of awareness to be related to America's war on Islam or America's attempt to blackmail the world with its vast nuclear superiority; I expect this awareness to be obviously related to God's anger at America for its torture-enslavement of me, God's One True Telepath.
 
That is why I have been focusing on this small fraction of America's torture of me, this sleep deprivation torture, and establishing this formula in which America's Space War death toll in June will match the number established by these cowardly American torturers.
 
I am, of course, setting the stage for the miracles that will happen in June, miracles for me and the rest of the world, but a disastrous happenstance for America; and the miracle of proof of Divine intention over chance events will be found in the number of American dead matching the number recorded in this work, now at 1,345.
 
What can we expect when that point of awareness is reached?  I cannot say for sure, but I think the American people will panic, will tremble, because deep down in their crabapple souls they know they have done evil to me; and they will be getting their first whiff of the brimstone in their future.
 
Now a word about vodka.  As you might expect of a man of God, I am so pure I can hardly say the word manure; but taking the lead of my old friend, Jesus, who liked a good swig of wine, I have decided vodka will kill me slower than will sleep-deprivation.
 
With a vodka I can get over five hours sleep in 24, but without it my psycho-fascist American neighbors will deprive me of sleep all day every day, and be smugly proud to do so.
 
On days you see a high degree of torture recorded, such as in yesterday's report, you see examples of attempts to sleep as I prefer to sleep, without the help of the Russian Sandman; and as you will later see how such attempts cost many Americans lives, because such attempts lead to a feeding frenzy of torture.
 
There is another point, why is it when this motel is 80% empty there is someone always in 111 and 114, people to rap on my walls when there are so many non-adjoining rooms vacant?
 
I do not believe this to be the plan of the very gracious and kind couple who manage this motel; and I know that even my own beloved mother was forced to participate in America's torture-enslavement of me; but I want you to consider how important this torture of me is to America, important enough to place a different coward in the next room all day and all night for weeks on end for the sole purpose of awakening me should I sleep, perchance to dream.
 
On the sunny side, the American government today released a video said to show American Airlines Flight 77 striking the Pentagon, an event I could have been prevented were it not for America's of sport-torture of me.  Call me a sentimental old man, but I love those old movies showing my torturers as they entered Hell.