The $212 Billioin Defeat
Jews Jaws Two
Shark America Eight
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 191
Note: Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2007
Looking for the Peru-Chile Event
Today I am going to tell you a few true ghost stories; as we kill time while Time kills you.
I have met two ghosts since I have been living in this old, long-deserted house in Smallville, California, south and east of Mount Shasta, as I wait for Armageddon to break out.
This is not to say the house is haunted, only that some ghosts are living here; and in general they go their way and I go mine; they have their life and friends, and I have mine.
One nice thing about being the most accomplished telepath in human history is it allows me to meet people who are generally called ghosts, and this has broadened my understand of life and death to a considerable degree..
My first meeting with a ghost after I became audibly telepathic in the early Seventies was with a nun in the catacomb under the American Cathedral in Rome. She said to me, "If you want my help knock on my coffin"; so I knocked on her coffin three times, and we have been fast friends ever since; but that's another story..
I would say my best meetings with ghosts have been with spirits of Native Americans in the California wilderness, at a particular place in the wilderness loved by both myself and those sprits; and those spirits and I have talked long well and gone through what we old hippies would call "changes" over the years.
By that I mean we have talked about what is polite and what is impolite in our transdimensional conversations; we discussed how do we could talk to one another without being rude to one other; but probably the most interesting thing to me (and to give you an idea of how casual this all was) one night the Native American spirits asked me if I would do them the favor of building a big fire for them.
They said they missed sitting around big fires, and as spirits they could not build them.
So I built a big fire for them; and they thanked me; then they asked me to leave, because they wanted to share that big fire among themselves.
I considered that then, and still do, a high level of social intercourse between myself and long-dead Native Americans.
That is a genuine ghost story of the past; and the following is a current genuine ghost story, active even as you read these words.
Soon after I moved in to this old, abandoned house, with no heat, no running water, no furniture, and only bare walls, my function being caretaker, I chanced to meet a lady ghost one night, as she was leaving a room I was entering.
It was a friendly meeting, smiles and friendly nods and knocks shared, but I have never run into her again. That was about three weeks ago.
Then three nights ago I met a man-ghost who was quite imposing in his behavior. That is, he had something to say and he was going to say it.
He sidled up to me so suddenly and so threateningly when I was outside the house late one night that at first I thought I was being attacked by my vicious neighbor.
I have told you about my vicious neighbor, the cowardly little American "man" on Juniper street who flies the big American flag, who walks some 40 yards to my house almost every night, sometimes three times a night, to bang on my bedroom wall and awaken me.
As it turned out that was just the matter my new ghost friend wanted to talk to me about
On that first night he was just getting my attention, then on the next night he talked to me again, and he said I was not taking the cowardly little American on Juniper street who flies a big American flag seriously enough, that "Cowardly Flag", as I call him for short, is dangerous, dangerous enough to be capable of murder.
(Before I go any further; I told the story I am about to tell you to a good friend in Russia; and she asked what this ghost's name is, and also the name of the lady ghost I just told you about (and had told her about some weeks ago), and I said I did not know; and she said she thought it was impolite just to refer to them as man ghost and lady ghost.
(So, to make a long story short, I asked her to give names to these two ghosts. She named the man-ghost Mister Edward, and the woman ghost Miss Emma; and if I am hearing correctly from the ghosts, Miss Emma and Mister Edward like the idea of being given names by a young woman on the other side of the world, and they felt the names suited them.)
As it turns out, the cowardly little American "man" on Juniper street who flies the big American flag, has not banged on my wall for the past four nights, and it was on the second night of this hiatus that I met Mister Edward, and it was on the third night of this hiatus that Mister Edward spoke to me in no uncertain terms, telling me the cowardly little American "man" on Juniper who flies the big American flag is in fact mentally unstable enough to murder me.
Mister Edward said Cowardly Flag, as we call him here for short, has been planning to let himself into this house when I am away, and hide in the house until I return. and wait until I am asleep, and creep into my room and murder me in my sleep.
Mister Edward said that when I come home I should first bolt the door from the inside; and because Cowardly Flag has both key to this house and evil intent toward me, I should patrol the entire two story house and look into every conceivable hiding place.
Having done that, I should before I fall asleep block my bedroom door so if it were to be opened the sound would awaken me, giving me time to defend myself with lethal force.
All that is well and good, but I want to tell you how Mr. Edward made this point. It was quite impressive.
I had inspected the house and bolted the front door and gone to bed, and Mr. Edward walked right through my bedroom door and put his hands around my throat; ghost standing above me chocking me, the message being: Do you want the hands of an insane living, crazy young male who can choke you, a 67 year old man, to death; or do you want to listen to your new ghostly friend?
So, I decided to take heed of what the ghost called Mr. Edward was telling me, and zap the cowardly American "man" who flies a big flag on Juniper Street if I ever find him hiding in my home.
Anyway, that's enough ghost stories for one night. Boo!
Shark America Eight
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 191
Note: Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2007
Looking for the Peru-Chile Event
Today I am going to tell you a few true ghost stories; as we kill time while Time kills you.
I have met two ghosts since I have been living in this old, long-deserted house in Smallville, California, south and east of Mount Shasta, as I wait for Armageddon to break out.
This is not to say the house is haunted, only that some ghosts are living here; and in general they go their way and I go mine; they have their life and friends, and I have mine.
One nice thing about being the most accomplished telepath in human history is it allows me to meet people who are generally called ghosts, and this has broadened my understand of life and death to a considerable degree..
My first meeting with a ghost after I became audibly telepathic in the early Seventies was with a nun in the catacomb under the American Cathedral in Rome. She said to me, "If you want my help knock on my coffin"; so I knocked on her coffin three times, and we have been fast friends ever since; but that's another story..
I would say my best meetings with ghosts have been with spirits of Native Americans in the California wilderness, at a particular place in the wilderness loved by both myself and those sprits; and those spirits and I have talked long well and gone through what we old hippies would call "changes" over the years.
By that I mean we have talked about what is polite and what is impolite in our transdimensional conversations; we discussed how do we could talk to one another without being rude to one other; but probably the most interesting thing to me (and to give you an idea of how casual this all was) one night the Native American spirits asked me if I would do them the favor of building a big fire for them.
They said they missed sitting around big fires, and as spirits they could not build them.
So I built a big fire for them; and they thanked me; then they asked me to leave, because they wanted to share that big fire among themselves.
I considered that then, and still do, a high level of social intercourse between myself and long-dead Native Americans.
That is a genuine ghost story of the past; and the following is a current genuine ghost story, active even as you read these words.
Soon after I moved in to this old, abandoned house, with no heat, no running water, no furniture, and only bare walls, my function being caretaker, I chanced to meet a lady ghost one night, as she was leaving a room I was entering.
It was a friendly meeting, smiles and friendly nods and knocks shared, but I have never run into her again. That was about three weeks ago.
Then three nights ago I met a man-ghost who was quite imposing in his behavior. That is, he had something to say and he was going to say it.
He sidled up to me so suddenly and so threateningly when I was outside the house late one night that at first I thought I was being attacked by my vicious neighbor.
I have told you about my vicious neighbor, the cowardly little American "man" on Juniper street who flies the big American flag, who walks some 40 yards to my house almost every night, sometimes three times a night, to bang on my bedroom wall and awaken me.
As it turned out that was just the matter my new ghost friend wanted to talk to me about
On that first night he was just getting my attention, then on the next night he talked to me again, and he said I was not taking the cowardly little American on Juniper street who flies a big American flag seriously enough, that "Cowardly Flag", as I call him for short, is dangerous, dangerous enough to be capable of murder.
(Before I go any further; I told the story I am about to tell you to a good friend in Russia; and she asked what this ghost's name is, and also the name of the lady ghost I just told you about (and had told her about some weeks ago), and I said I did not know; and she said she thought it was impolite just to refer to them as man ghost and lady ghost.
(So, to make a long story short, I asked her to give names to these two ghosts. She named the man-ghost Mister Edward, and the woman ghost Miss Emma; and if I am hearing correctly from the ghosts, Miss Emma and Mister Edward like the idea of being given names by a young woman on the other side of the world, and they felt the names suited them.)
As it turns out, the cowardly little American "man" on Juniper street who flies the big American flag, has not banged on my wall for the past four nights, and it was on the second night of this hiatus that I met Mister Edward, and it was on the third night of this hiatus that Mister Edward spoke to me in no uncertain terms, telling me the cowardly little American "man" on Juniper who flies the big American flag is in fact mentally unstable enough to murder me.
Mister Edward said Cowardly Flag, as we call him here for short, has been planning to let himself into this house when I am away, and hide in the house until I return. and wait until I am asleep, and creep into my room and murder me in my sleep.
Mister Edward said that when I come home I should first bolt the door from the inside; and because Cowardly Flag has both key to this house and evil intent toward me, I should patrol the entire two story house and look into every conceivable hiding place.
Having done that, I should before I fall asleep block my bedroom door so if it were to be opened the sound would awaken me, giving me time to defend myself with lethal force.
All that is well and good, but I want to tell you how Mr. Edward made this point. It was quite impressive.
I had inspected the house and bolted the front door and gone to bed, and Mr. Edward walked right through my bedroom door and put his hands around my throat; ghost standing above me chocking me, the message being: Do you want the hands of an insane living, crazy young male who can choke you, a 67 year old man, to death; or do you want to listen to your new ghostly friend?
So, I decided to take heed of what the ghost called Mr. Edward was telling me, and zap the cowardly American "man" who flies a big flag on Juniper Street if I ever find him hiding in my home.
Anyway, that's enough ghost stories for one night. Boo!
posted by Virgil Kret at 8:48 PM
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