The $158 Billion Defeat

Jews' Jaws Five

Shark America Five

Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 139

The first event I could easily have prevented through the use of the gift God gave me, my audible mental telepathy, was the kidnapping of Patty Hearst on February 4, 1974.

I heard about the kidnapping about three months before it took place; while I was being harassed silly by the psycho-fascist citizens of San Francisco.

My plan to prevent the kidnapping was simple enough. I would establish contact with police detective and send him information as I gathered it. The initial piece of information I had to give was that the daughter of a wealthy family would be kidnapped.

This still seems to me to have been a good approach, but I had just recently become audibly telepathic and the Americans were giddy with the "right" to torture me, and I hadn't realized yet there was no way I could talk to any American in a context of reason and truth.

The San Francisco Police Department seemed a poor choice because the homosexual psycho-fascists of Frisco had two or three times threatened to murder me.

Going back to my home in Orange Country south of Los Angeles also made little sense because my traitorous wife was chomping on bit to get me committed for saying I was audibly mentally telepathic.

Yes, she of course could hear my telepathy as well as everyone, but she of course went along with the psycho-fascist lie, like everyone; so my saying within earshot of her that I wanted to try to prevent a kidnapping through the use of my telepathy would have put me in a rubber room without doubt.

So, deciding it was time to get out of stabbing range of the psycho-fascist homosexuals of Frisco, I hopped a Greyhound bus and headed for Los Angeles, thinking and thinking, what to do what to do, as the miles rolled by.

Guys like me don't let people die if there is something we can do about it; and at that early stage of my work on what turned out to be the Hearst kidnapping, I thought the odds were good the victim would be murdered.

So, about eight p.m. the bus stopped at Salinas, California, home of one of my writing teachers, John Steinbeck; and I thought, well, this is far enough away from psycho-fascist Frisco and far enough away from my psycho-fascist wife, this might be a good place to talk to the police.

I got off the bus and walked to the police station and spoke to the officer at the desk, telling him I wanted to speak to a detective about a crime I had heard was in the planning stage. In response I was told I could not speak to a detective and I had better get out of the building.

Figuring the next step was handcuffs, I left, and walked for an hour or so; but as I walked I was nagged about what I knew, one of my underlying principles being Knowledge is Responsibility, so I decided I had to do something. I called the police (this was before I had learned what pigs the police can be) and made the same request, to talk to a detective.

A cop car came by and took me to the psychiatric ward of the Monterey County Hospital.

The psycho-fascist torture began at the admissions desk, and reached incredible proportions, too much to go into today but designed to terrorize me; thus continuing the threats of murder begun by the psycho-fascist homosexuals of Frisco.

There is one event I must tell you about, though, because it is so representative of the treatment of me by the United States of America.

I was taken into an examination room where a heavy set older woman doctor told me to take off my clothes.

I complied.

Then she told me to lie down on the examination table and assume the fetal position.

I complied.

Then she took a wooden tongue depressor and shoved it up my ass and twisted it.