The $269 Billion Defeat
Jews Jaws Six
Shark America Four
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 195 (Note the jump in this count, 128 on Monday, then 173, 174, 173 and 195 today. Our brief unscientific study seems to indicate there is something important about the seven-day count when it dips down to the 120s)
Note: Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2007
Looking for the Peru-Chile Event
Today: Tactics of the Smallville Battle--Smallville Chooses Barabbas
Today's Code: "The Power of Suggestion"
Sometimes I make suggestions to God; but I can't recall a suggestion of mine God has acted upon.
One suggestion which I put forward now and then is that it would save the world if every American with knowledge of America's torture-enslavement of me would drop dead at the same time.
Think of it, over one hundred million Americans dropping dead simultaneously. Think of the news value; think of the shock value; think of the big sigh of relief that would go around the world with the knowledge that so much of the American pestilence was gone; think of the value of the stench of their unburied corpses wafting around the world, telling all humankind, "Do not enter this level of Evil".
But that is just a dream, just a beautiful dream.
This old suggestion from the past came to mind after I talked to the sergeant on watch at the Sheriff's Department yesterday, asking for more aggressive investigation into my being shot at by the coward at 302 Third Street last Saturday, whom we for today dub "Barabbas"; and in response the sergeant told me the Sheriff's Department is just putting me on, that it is doing nothing, absolutely nothing, and intends to continuing doing absolutely nothing at all.
No, he did not say that; but he said that. There are words within words. The words "I love you" can be hissed, and then they do not mean "I love you", they mean "I hate you".
All languages I have any familiarity with are vertical and horizontal. If you are talking up to or down to a person (Your Majesty, You Bum) you are speaking vertically, if you are speaking to someone as to an equal you are speaking horizontally.
In modern American English this is blurred, but still present, and is most often heard in tone. Americans can use tones today that would have been dueling-level insults in 1776.
In Japanese the vertical-horizontal in language is very clear; and in German you had better not inappropriately use the "Du" form of "You" when the "Sie" form is called for.
If I were talking to a Japanese and said the sheriff's sergeant called me "kimi", the Japanese would immediately understand the sergeant was speaking down to me and had gravely insulted me, because that's what an adult Japanese says to a child when saying the word for "you".
What is sweet and kind when speaking to a child would be a hiss when speaking to an adult. In this regard, the Sheriff's Department hisses at me every time it talks to me.
During World War Two a young American army officer, who would later become a most excellent teacher of German on the university level, was serving with an American infantry unit to which a German infantry unit was about to surrender. While he by chance spoke perfect German, his job was not that of interpreter; but he was in a position to observe the negotiations.
The German officer, perhaps a major, was talking to the American officer, also perhaps a major; and the American interpreter was a young enlisted man who had grown up in a German home in the United States, and spoke perfect German AS IT WAS SPOKEN IN HIS HOME. It was always "Du", never "Sie" in his home.
So he addressed the German major as "Du", because that was the only word for "You" he had ever heard; and it was a monstrous insult to the German major, this boyish American of low rank speaking to him as if he were a four year old child; and the major was just about to storm out of the surrender negotiations and resume the battle.
So monstrous was that unintended insult that perhaps hundreds more Americans and Germans would die.
My teacher friend saved the day by stepping in and speaking proper German, horizontal German, and negotiations were completed, and the Germans surrendered, and no more men died on that day.
So, this is to say that in all conversations I have had with members of the Sheriff's Department of Lassen County over the matter of Barabbas' torturing me and threatening to burn me alive and taking a shot at me, I was spoken to vertically, as if I were a child.
Oh, Virgil (not Mr. Kret) you don't worry your little head about this man shooting at you. Yes, Virgil (not Mr. Kret) we will look into it more seriously.
Virgil (not Mr. Kret), was the person you say shot you, who was standing at the door, was he the father with one leg or the son with two legs. Yes, deputy, the man standing at the door had two legs.
Virgil (not Mr. Kret), you say the man made sexual orgasm noises outside your bedroom wall. Did he bring his girlfriend with him? Huh? No, deputy, it was perverted insanity.
Virgil (not Mr. Kret), you should have heard the sound of the gun before you heard the sound of the bullet passing by you. Huh? No, deputy, bullets fly faster than the speed of sound.
How foolish of me. I am so embarrassed. Of course it is as legal to torture the Telepath in Lassen County, as it is in any other county in America; and of course had that bullet had been aimed at anyone else but me the Sheriff's Department would be hot onto it, and the cowardly psycho-fascist American, Barabbas, would be in jail right now.
Once in a while...once in a while...once in a while I forget what a nation of psycho-fascist assholes America is.
But God...but God...but God does not forget for one second.
Foolish me, though knowing full well and from bitter experience of the national legality of Telepath torture, I was thinking that because the coward at 302 Second Street, Barabbas, is a criminal not only toward me but toward the entire community, the police might serve as police in this case rather than enablers of the criminal.
No, the opportunity to mess with the enslaved Telepath far outweighs the prospect of putting a dangerous criminal into prison.
And the people of Smallville, though they fear this lunatic and hope against hope he will be sentenced to prison for the crimes he has committed in the past, they one by one line up on his side.
They say in various ways and through various rationalizations that he has the right to torture me, the right to threaten to burn my home down with me in it, the right to shoot at me; because in the verticality of America I am at the bottom of the bottom, and crimes against me are not crimes at all.
I expected better of Smallville, but that was just a dream, just a beautiful dream.
American police respecting my rights; American people respecting my rights. How foolish of me. I am so embarrassed.
So today let's add some dimension to our map of the Battle of Smallville; le'ts add some width and depth. It is this added width and depth that makes the local Battle of Smallville become the world-wide, bi-dimensional, Battle of Armageddon.
(Bi-dimensional here means simultaneous war in the Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead.)
I have described for you the area of approximately five square acres, in the middle of which sits my home, and at the front of my home some 40 yards away is the cowardly psycho-fascist American at 316 Second Street and behind my home sits, Barabbas, the cowardly psych-fascist American criminal at 302 Third Street.
Around that rough square sit some 11 other houses, all but one with their backs to my house, and beyond those houses are other houses, and beyond those are others, and eventually those other houses encompass all the houses in the United States of America.
See that as the thickness of my prison walls.
See as one brick in that wall Barabbas, the psycho-fascist coward at 302 Third Street; see as several bricks in that wall the Sheriff's Department of Lassen County; see every other police department as making up bricks in that wall, and the FBI, and the CIA, and the Boy Scouts of America, and on and on and on; until all the bricks of my prison walls add up to almost...almost...almost the total population of the United States of America.
In America's torture-enslavement of me all Americans co-own me. It is a form of satanic polygamy, a marriage of national agreement to share ownership of one human being.
So when the Sheriff's sergeant speaks to me as if I were a child, he speaks to me as his shared slave. According to his contract with Satan, he can mess with me temporarily when I am available, just as he could temporarily live in a time-share apartment on Lake Tahoe.
(Millions of Americans think they love me, but they love me like a slave owner loves a favorite slave; but that's another story.)
Now, see that vast, thick prison wall made up of the individual bricks of hundreds of millions of Americans as being on the deep, deep floor of an ocean of psycho-fascism; and if you can see those hundreds of millions of bricks, and if you can imagine the depth of the Pacific Ocean at its deepest point, you will have the picture of how deeply enslaved I am by the American people.
How foolish I am been. I was expecting one community, one county, to rid me of one murderous psychopathic psycho-fascist; if for no other reason than sooner or later that psycho-fascist Barabbas will murder one of them. And he will...and he will...and he will. It is written on the walls of his wormy squirming little mud-brain. Eventually, certainly, he will murder someone; most likely his wife.
So that's what got me thinking about my periodic suggestion to God that God simultaneously kill every American who bears false witness against the existence of my telepathy.
Actually, God seems to like the idea, but God says it is hard on Hell to damn that many psycho-fascists at once. It's a physics thing, I think. All those wicked little souls squeezing into a space the size of a pinhead, and that pinhead being cast into the Sun.. It is better all American psycho-fascists go to Hell in drips, God says.
However, other than the traffic jam on the road to Hell my suggestion would cause, I still think my suggestion is a good one.
Oh, well, it's just a dream, just a beautiful dream.
As I have been wringing my hands in this way today God in most strong and godly terms twice repeated God's Space War code associated with the Battle of Smallville. "Killing Two Birds With One Stone".
What the Hell, the Sheriff is on the side of Barabbas, the Smallvillains are on the side of Barabbas; but God is on the side of Virgil, and God speaks to Virgil horizontally.
God, by the way, calls me by no name whatsoever; and God as known me for what, fifteen million years now?
In closing today, there is one thing I have to mention; that is the quiet, beautiful death of Ruth Graham, the wife of Billy Graham. I am sure she was a genteel, wealthy, Christian woman, aloof and protected in the world of war and woe; but if she knew...if she knew...if she knew of America's torture-enslavement of me (no matter what nice words she knew it as) she lost her soul.
"But I thought it was the right thing to do," she would plead her case if it were not so automatic; and so would the murderer of babies say upon Judgment Day. if damnation of baby killers was not so automatic, "But I thought it was the right thing to do".
This has to do with the crimes of Christianity against me, and why TV Evangelist Jimmy Falwell is in Hell today, and that's another story.
Shark America Four
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 195 (Note the jump in this count, 128 on Monday, then 173, 174, 173 and 195 today. Our brief unscientific study seems to indicate there is something important about the seven-day count when it dips down to the 120s)
Note: Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2007
Looking for the Peru-Chile Event
Today: Tactics of the Smallville Battle--Smallville Chooses Barabbas
Today's Code: "The Power of Suggestion"
Sometimes I make suggestions to God; but I can't recall a suggestion of mine God has acted upon.
One suggestion which I put forward now and then is that it would save the world if every American with knowledge of America's torture-enslavement of me would drop dead at the same time.
Think of it, over one hundred million Americans dropping dead simultaneously. Think of the news value; think of the shock value; think of the big sigh of relief that would go around the world with the knowledge that so much of the American pestilence was gone; think of the value of the stench of their unburied corpses wafting around the world, telling all humankind, "Do not enter this level of Evil".
But that is just a dream, just a beautiful dream.
This old suggestion from the past came to mind after I talked to the sergeant on watch at the Sheriff's Department yesterday, asking for more aggressive investigation into my being shot at by the coward at 302 Third Street last Saturday, whom we for today dub "Barabbas"; and in response the sergeant told me the Sheriff's Department is just putting me on, that it is doing nothing, absolutely nothing, and intends to continuing doing absolutely nothing at all.
No, he did not say that; but he said that. There are words within words. The words "I love you" can be hissed, and then they do not mean "I love you", they mean "I hate you".
All languages I have any familiarity with are vertical and horizontal. If you are talking up to or down to a person (Your Majesty, You Bum) you are speaking vertically, if you are speaking to someone as to an equal you are speaking horizontally.
In modern American English this is blurred, but still present, and is most often heard in tone. Americans can use tones today that would have been dueling-level insults in 1776.
In Japanese the vertical-horizontal in language is very clear; and in German you had better not inappropriately use the "Du" form of "You" when the "Sie" form is called for.
If I were talking to a Japanese and said the sheriff's sergeant called me "kimi", the Japanese would immediately understand the sergeant was speaking down to me and had gravely insulted me, because that's what an adult Japanese says to a child when saying the word for "you".
What is sweet and kind when speaking to a child would be a hiss when speaking to an adult. In this regard, the Sheriff's Department hisses at me every time it talks to me.
During World War Two a young American army officer, who would later become a most excellent teacher of German on the university level, was serving with an American infantry unit to which a German infantry unit was about to surrender. While he by chance spoke perfect German, his job was not that of interpreter; but he was in a position to observe the negotiations.
The German officer, perhaps a major, was talking to the American officer, also perhaps a major; and the American interpreter was a young enlisted man who had grown up in a German home in the United States, and spoke perfect German AS IT WAS SPOKEN IN HIS HOME. It was always "Du", never "Sie" in his home.
So he addressed the German major as "Du", because that was the only word for "You" he had ever heard; and it was a monstrous insult to the German major, this boyish American of low rank speaking to him as if he were a four year old child; and the major was just about to storm out of the surrender negotiations and resume the battle.
So monstrous was that unintended insult that perhaps hundreds more Americans and Germans would die.
My teacher friend saved the day by stepping in and speaking proper German, horizontal German, and negotiations were completed, and the Germans surrendered, and no more men died on that day.
So, this is to say that in all conversations I have had with members of the Sheriff's Department of Lassen County over the matter of Barabbas' torturing me and threatening to burn me alive and taking a shot at me, I was spoken to vertically, as if I were a child.
Oh, Virgil (not Mr. Kret) you don't worry your little head about this man shooting at you. Yes, Virgil (not Mr. Kret) we will look into it more seriously.
Virgil (not Mr. Kret), was the person you say shot you, who was standing at the door, was he the father with one leg or the son with two legs. Yes, deputy, the man standing at the door had two legs.
Virgil (not Mr. Kret), you say the man made sexual orgasm noises outside your bedroom wall. Did he bring his girlfriend with him? Huh? No, deputy, it was perverted insanity.
Virgil (not Mr. Kret), you should have heard the sound of the gun before you heard the sound of the bullet passing by you. Huh? No, deputy, bullets fly faster than the speed of sound.
How foolish of me. I am so embarrassed. Of course it is as legal to torture the Telepath in Lassen County, as it is in any other county in America; and of course had that bullet had been aimed at anyone else but me the Sheriff's Department would be hot onto it, and the cowardly psycho-fascist American, Barabbas, would be in jail right now.
Once in a while...once in a while...once in a while I forget what a nation of psycho-fascist assholes America is.
But God...but God...but God does not forget for one second.
Foolish me, though knowing full well and from bitter experience of the national legality of Telepath torture, I was thinking that because the coward at 302 Second Street, Barabbas, is a criminal not only toward me but toward the entire community, the police might serve as police in this case rather than enablers of the criminal.
No, the opportunity to mess with the enslaved Telepath far outweighs the prospect of putting a dangerous criminal into prison.
And the people of Smallville, though they fear this lunatic and hope against hope he will be sentenced to prison for the crimes he has committed in the past, they one by one line up on his side.
They say in various ways and through various rationalizations that he has the right to torture me, the right to threaten to burn my home down with me in it, the right to shoot at me; because in the verticality of America I am at the bottom of the bottom, and crimes against me are not crimes at all.
I expected better of Smallville, but that was just a dream, just a beautiful dream.
American police respecting my rights; American people respecting my rights. How foolish of me. I am so embarrassed.
So today let's add some dimension to our map of the Battle of Smallville; le'ts add some width and depth. It is this added width and depth that makes the local Battle of Smallville become the world-wide, bi-dimensional, Battle of Armageddon.
(Bi-dimensional here means simultaneous war in the Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead.)
I have described for you the area of approximately five square acres, in the middle of which sits my home, and at the front of my home some 40 yards away is the cowardly psycho-fascist American at 316 Second Street and behind my home sits, Barabbas, the cowardly psych-fascist American criminal at 302 Third Street.
Around that rough square sit some 11 other houses, all but one with their backs to my house, and beyond those houses are other houses, and beyond those are others, and eventually those other houses encompass all the houses in the United States of America.
See that as the thickness of my prison walls.
See as one brick in that wall Barabbas, the psycho-fascist coward at 302 Third Street; see as several bricks in that wall the Sheriff's Department of Lassen County; see every other police department as making up bricks in that wall, and the FBI, and the CIA, and the Boy Scouts of America, and on and on and on; until all the bricks of my prison walls add up to almost...almost...almost the total population of the United States of America.
In America's torture-enslavement of me all Americans co-own me. It is a form of satanic polygamy, a marriage of national agreement to share ownership of one human being.
So when the Sheriff's sergeant speaks to me as if I were a child, he speaks to me as his shared slave. According to his contract with Satan, he can mess with me temporarily when I am available, just as he could temporarily live in a time-share apartment on Lake Tahoe.
(Millions of Americans think they love me, but they love me like a slave owner loves a favorite slave; but that's another story.)
Now, see that vast, thick prison wall made up of the individual bricks of hundreds of millions of Americans as being on the deep, deep floor of an ocean of psycho-fascism; and if you can see those hundreds of millions of bricks, and if you can imagine the depth of the Pacific Ocean at its deepest point, you will have the picture of how deeply enslaved I am by the American people.
How foolish I am been. I was expecting one community, one county, to rid me of one murderous psychopathic psycho-fascist; if for no other reason than sooner or later that psycho-fascist Barabbas will murder one of them. And he will...and he will...and he will. It is written on the walls of his wormy squirming little mud-brain. Eventually, certainly, he will murder someone; most likely his wife.
So that's what got me thinking about my periodic suggestion to God that God simultaneously kill every American who bears false witness against the existence of my telepathy.
Actually, God seems to like the idea, but God says it is hard on Hell to damn that many psycho-fascists at once. It's a physics thing, I think. All those wicked little souls squeezing into a space the size of a pinhead, and that pinhead being cast into the Sun.. It is better all American psycho-fascists go to Hell in drips, God says.
However, other than the traffic jam on the road to Hell my suggestion would cause, I still think my suggestion is a good one.
Oh, well, it's just a dream, just a beautiful dream.
As I have been wringing my hands in this way today God in most strong and godly terms twice repeated God's Space War code associated with the Battle of Smallville. "Killing Two Birds With One Stone".
What the Hell, the Sheriff is on the side of Barabbas, the Smallvillains are on the side of Barabbas; but God is on the side of Virgil, and God speaks to Virgil horizontally.
God, by the way, calls me by no name whatsoever; and God as known me for what, fifteen million years now?
In closing today, there is one thing I have to mention; that is the quiet, beautiful death of Ruth Graham, the wife of Billy Graham. I am sure she was a genteel, wealthy, Christian woman, aloof and protected in the world of war and woe; but if she knew...if she knew...if she knew of America's torture-enslavement of me (no matter what nice words she knew it as) she lost her soul.
"But I thought it was the right thing to do," she would plead her case if it were not so automatic; and so would the murderer of babies say upon Judgment Day. if damnation of baby killers was not so automatic, "But I thought it was the right thing to do".
This has to do with the crimes of Christianity against me, and why TV Evangelist Jimmy Falwell is in Hell today, and that's another story.
posted by Virgil Kret at 8:15 PM
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