The $319 Billion Defeat
Jews Jaws Three
Shark America Seven
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 142
Note: Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2007
Looking for the Peru-Chile God Event
Today: Tactics of the Smallville Battle--Let the Smallvillains Kill More Americans
Today's Code is "Long Distant Strangers".
And yes, true to form, my psycho-fascist neighbors have requested more American deaths.
I would have thought the bridge might have sobered them up from their drunkenness of power; but it was not their bridge; it was not a bridge they would ever cross; and those who died were people they cared not one whit about; but they want more American dead and America has placed them in charge of this show, so so be it.
You may have noticed by now that every time the Smallvillains request more American deaths through their torture of me, Americans elsewhere die. Do you think this is some slight of hand? Do you think this is me making plastic of the language and molding it around events? Do you think "Two Birds, One Stone" is a parlor game?
Count your dead, America; count the dead who are dead because of the psycho-fascist torture of me by the cowardly American "men" at 316 Second Street and 302 Third Street, Smallville, California.
If you cannot see the lines of responsibility coming back from those deaths in Minnesota, South Carolina, Arizona and elsewhere to Smallville, well, there are more deaths on the way, more chances for you to learn to read the writing on the wall.
And while you take time to re-read and re-read this Dick and Jane primer of God's Space War, understand these dead to the Battle of Smallville are just the beginning of the deaths to this battle; and there have been many battles in the past with many Americans deaths; and this war will go on forever, and forever, and forever, if that is what your little hearts desire.
Well, what the Hell, I am sure the dozens now dead to the Battle of Smallville don't mind being dead, and those who loved them don't mind their being dead if the psycho-fascist cowards here in Smallville are having a good time torturing me.
Let's change a subject; let's change the tune; let's talk about love between long distant strangers; Universe Rearrangers; let's talk about the Man in the Moon.
The thing that bothers me as I am about to be forced out of yet another home is not the prospect of homeless death this development portends, (I am too old to sleep in my car, I am to old to wander the highways and byways looking for a home America will just take from me again for the fun and the vengeance of it), no, what worries me it is the fact that birds frequently get into this old house, and if I am not here to release them they will die in panic and despair.
If you are lucky enough some day to become a powerful telepathic mind, you will find you see the world differently because you become aware of the intelligence all around you, and the intelligence all around you becomes aware of you.
I have told you how Mr. Robin here reassured me that I was not frightening him as I worked at making a seed bed for the lawn I put in; and that he did this several times telepathically, and then emphasized his point by flying up behind me and over my right shoulder, touching my right ear with the tip of his left wing.
Never before in my life had a wild bird deliberately touched me. Perhaps this is rare in your life, too..
The most impressive thing about the owner of this property when he was here, I mean other than that he came here with the agenda of attacking me and firing me with great and angry drama when a simple Thank You and a handshake would have done just as well...I mean something else...I mean he demonstrated he has absolutely no awareness of the beauty around him. Zero. None.
Bitch, bitch, bitch; and he couldn't smell the roses if he had three noses. This to me is Pathos.
And while he was here his anger and darkness utterly shattered what I described to you as our "God Bubble", and by "our" I mean the birds' and mine, and it took a few days for the God Bubble to take form again after he left.
Happily, now Mr. Robin and I, and Mrs. Robin, and some other Robin who seems to be interested in Mrs. Robin, spend about an hour a day hanging out together, they digging worms and chasing each other around, I watching the grass I planted grow, just hanging out; and where just after the Bad Noisy Man left they would hang out perhaps 20 feet away, now they are constantly within three or four feet, and Mr. Robin got within two feet yesterday.
I mean, and you could understand this if you understood the nature of telepathy, Mr. Robin deliberately and with great ceremony moves closer and closer to me as a show of love, respect and trust, one man to another.
So you see, the thought of a bird getting trapped in this old house and dying is not a pleasant one to me; and I found the body of such a bird when I first moved in.
I would say there have been about six or seven instances of birds getting trapped in this house these four months I have been here, and there has been a clear evolution in their relationship with me over those months.
Where at first my attempting to help them find a way out panicked them, they gradually came to trust me more and more, and reached a point where they would sit quietly on a window sill as I towered above them opening the window so they could fly out; and the most recent one...the most recent one...the most recent one almost, almost, almost perched on my finger so I could carry it out; but that was asking a bit too much; but it relaxed enough so I could cup it in my hands and carry it out, which I thought was a wonderful demonstration of trust.
(At the writing of the above sentence the neighbor at 316 Second Street struck me with a Cowards' Cough. These Americans, they cannot tolerate holy moments; these Americans, they are anathemas to God.)
The interesting thing here is that all these events involved different birds. You could understand better if it were the same bird getting trapped in the house every time and gradually becoming less afraid of me, but no, almost simultaneously all the birds around here have not only become less afraid of me but have learned to love and trust me.
So, the last three birds trapped in this house were not afraid of me at all. This demonstrates, I suggest, shared intelligence among the birds about my character.
This has happened because we, the birds and I, live within the same God Bubble.
Again, if you understood telepathy and how telepathic birds are among each other you would understand what I am about to tell you.
My being here is quite an event for these birds; and these birds understand the God Bubble.
Try to understand what I mean. These birds know God, and knew God before I came here, and they know I am a Man of God.
If God can do this with birds, what could God do with you?
In the course of writing about Smallville I have described two endings to this chapter of the story of Smallville which seem very much in conflict.
I have described the death and destruction of the two cowardly psycho-fascist "men" who have tortured me so much since I have been here, death and destruction not by my hand but by the Hand of God, their death and destruction so clearly Acts of God that even the Village Atheist can see it and understand God is real.
In apparent conflict with this ending, I have spoken of a miracle God will give to Smallville which will leave all of Smallville basking in a rosy glow.
Although the citizens of Smallville might be pleased to see the psycho-fascist dopers at 316 Second Street and 302 Third Street gone, since these two and their friends and families constitute a Mini White Trash Mafia here, their death and destruction would not leave a rosy glow; rather perhaps some trembling and relief, but not a rosy glow.
No, the rosy glow is in the God Bubble.
No, we are talking about two distinct events, events which the Smallvillains will chose for themselves. Do Unto Others, Dear Reader, Do Unto Others. Torture the Telepath; be kind to the Telepath. This choice charts the future of Smallville, just as this choice charts the future of the United States of America; the micro and the macro.
God forgives, and even Virgil forgives; and God complains that Virgil forgives as soon as you Americans stops twisting the knife you have in his back; and not before that knife is removed; and not before that knife is cast into the deepest sea; and not before that wound is healed.
That is, God says I forgive you Americans too easily and in that way allow the rats among you to pretend to be hamsters.
We are talking about forgiveness here, to be or not to be, to die the death or live the life, all based on one decision, to torture and enslave or not to torture and enslave.
So the point is simple enough; there is a choice; and America is daily making the wrong choice.
The wrong choice leads to the collapsing of bridges, the deaths of firemen in burning furniture stores, the deaths of media weasels in helicopter crashes, and ultimately....ultimately...ultimately the destruction and damnation of the United States of America.
It is a wicked, wicked thing America has done and does to me; and that wicked thing is the same thing in simple form as the wicked things it has done and does to people around the world. America kills my children for sport; America kills Iraqi and Afghani and Pakistani children for revenge and honor. It's the same crap, different toilet.
It is no accidental coincidence that America's chief export is Agony and one of the great pleasures of the American people is deliberately inflicting Agony on God's One True Telepath. This is America's personality flaw which either America will correct or will take to Hell with it.
Therein lies the value of this demonstration in Smallville. This demonstration has shown how the evil done to me here sends killer shock waves like death rays across the country; and, consider, this death and destruction has been caused by the evil done to me by less than a dozen people. How greater the repercussions, then, to evil done to me by 250 million people?
This is a choice the Smallvillains will make. Will they be psycho-fascist liars and torturers until God cuts them down and casts them like tares into the fire? Or will they be honest, decent people, and have the grace and courage of the birds?
So, today I will begin a search for the place the birds get in to become trapped in this house, to block it off. I never sought it out and blocked before because, frankly, I always rather enjoyed freeing the birds.
What else? Oh, yes, Universe Rearrangers. That's us Space Sailors and the story of our service to God amidst the stars of the Gala Seas; a story too gentle and beautiful, I think, for the telling here in this torture chamber.
What else? Oh, yes, the Man in the Moon. There is in fact, actually, really, a Man in the Moon. That is, there are beings who lived on the Moon; but that's another story.
Amazing, isn't it, the things you don't know?
Contact Virgil Kret at Icnews360@aol.com.
Legal Defense, Survival & Presidential Campaign Fund:
Virgil Kret
I.C. News
P.O. Box 43
Morro Bay, CA 93443
USA
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
His cry of misery will be heard around the world; then the chorus will sing "Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!"
George W. Bush is a perfect storm of stupidity, dishonesty and vanity.
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
"In my strategy, the training for killing enemies is by way of many contests, fighting for survival, discovering the meaning of life and death, learning the Way of the sword, judging the strength of attacks and understanding the Way of the "edge and ridge" of the sword." Miyamoto Musashi, 17th Century.
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
The world is George W. Bush's Iraq. The world is George W. Bush's New Orleans. The world cannot bear the fascist, insane stupidity of George W. Bush.
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
The most important news story in the world today, and the most important political stance in America today is this:
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
Shark America Seven
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 142
Note: Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2007
Looking for the Peru-Chile God Event
Today: Tactics of the Smallville Battle--Let the Smallvillains Kill More Americans
Today's Code is "Long Distant Strangers".
And yes, true to form, my psycho-fascist neighbors have requested more American deaths.
I would have thought the bridge might have sobered them up from their drunkenness of power; but it was not their bridge; it was not a bridge they would ever cross; and those who died were people they cared not one whit about; but they want more American dead and America has placed them in charge of this show, so so be it.
You may have noticed by now that every time the Smallvillains request more American deaths through their torture of me, Americans elsewhere die. Do you think this is some slight of hand? Do you think this is me making plastic of the language and molding it around events? Do you think "Two Birds, One Stone" is a parlor game?
Count your dead, America; count the dead who are dead because of the psycho-fascist torture of me by the cowardly American "men" at 316 Second Street and 302 Third Street, Smallville, California.
If you cannot see the lines of responsibility coming back from those deaths in Minnesota, South Carolina, Arizona and elsewhere to Smallville, well, there are more deaths on the way, more chances for you to learn to read the writing on the wall.
And while you take time to re-read and re-read this Dick and Jane primer of God's Space War, understand these dead to the Battle of Smallville are just the beginning of the deaths to this battle; and there have been many battles in the past with many Americans deaths; and this war will go on forever, and forever, and forever, if that is what your little hearts desire.
Well, what the Hell, I am sure the dozens now dead to the Battle of Smallville don't mind being dead, and those who loved them don't mind their being dead if the psycho-fascist cowards here in Smallville are having a good time torturing me.
Let's change a subject; let's change the tune; let's talk about love between long distant strangers; Universe Rearrangers; let's talk about the Man in the Moon.
The thing that bothers me as I am about to be forced out of yet another home is not the prospect of homeless death this development portends, (I am too old to sleep in my car, I am to old to wander the highways and byways looking for a home America will just take from me again for the fun and the vengeance of it), no, what worries me it is the fact that birds frequently get into this old house, and if I am not here to release them they will die in panic and despair.
If you are lucky enough some day to become a powerful telepathic mind, you will find you see the world differently because you become aware of the intelligence all around you, and the intelligence all around you becomes aware of you.
I have told you how Mr. Robin here reassured me that I was not frightening him as I worked at making a seed bed for the lawn I put in; and that he did this several times telepathically, and then emphasized his point by flying up behind me and over my right shoulder, touching my right ear with the tip of his left wing.
Never before in my life had a wild bird deliberately touched me. Perhaps this is rare in your life, too..
The most impressive thing about the owner of this property when he was here, I mean other than that he came here with the agenda of attacking me and firing me with great and angry drama when a simple Thank You and a handshake would have done just as well...I mean something else...I mean he demonstrated he has absolutely no awareness of the beauty around him. Zero. None.
Bitch, bitch, bitch; and he couldn't smell the roses if he had three noses. This to me is Pathos.
And while he was here his anger and darkness utterly shattered what I described to you as our "God Bubble", and by "our" I mean the birds' and mine, and it took a few days for the God Bubble to take form again after he left.
Happily, now Mr. Robin and I, and Mrs. Robin, and some other Robin who seems to be interested in Mrs. Robin, spend about an hour a day hanging out together, they digging worms and chasing each other around, I watching the grass I planted grow, just hanging out; and where just after the Bad Noisy Man left they would hang out perhaps 20 feet away, now they are constantly within three or four feet, and Mr. Robin got within two feet yesterday.
I mean, and you could understand this if you understood the nature of telepathy, Mr. Robin deliberately and with great ceremony moves closer and closer to me as a show of love, respect and trust, one man to another.
So you see, the thought of a bird getting trapped in this old house and dying is not a pleasant one to me; and I found the body of such a bird when I first moved in.
I would say there have been about six or seven instances of birds getting trapped in this house these four months I have been here, and there has been a clear evolution in their relationship with me over those months.
Where at first my attempting to help them find a way out panicked them, they gradually came to trust me more and more, and reached a point where they would sit quietly on a window sill as I towered above them opening the window so they could fly out; and the most recent one...the most recent one...the most recent one almost, almost, almost perched on my finger so I could carry it out; but that was asking a bit too much; but it relaxed enough so I could cup it in my hands and carry it out, which I thought was a wonderful demonstration of trust.
(At the writing of the above sentence the neighbor at 316 Second Street struck me with a Cowards' Cough. These Americans, they cannot tolerate holy moments; these Americans, they are anathemas to God.)
The interesting thing here is that all these events involved different birds. You could understand better if it were the same bird getting trapped in the house every time and gradually becoming less afraid of me, but no, almost simultaneously all the birds around here have not only become less afraid of me but have learned to love and trust me.
So, the last three birds trapped in this house were not afraid of me at all. This demonstrates, I suggest, shared intelligence among the birds about my character.
This has happened because we, the birds and I, live within the same God Bubble.
Again, if you understood telepathy and how telepathic birds are among each other you would understand what I am about to tell you.
My being here is quite an event for these birds; and these birds understand the God Bubble.
Try to understand what I mean. These birds know God, and knew God before I came here, and they know I am a Man of God.
If God can do this with birds, what could God do with you?
In the course of writing about Smallville I have described two endings to this chapter of the story of Smallville which seem very much in conflict.
I have described the death and destruction of the two cowardly psycho-fascist "men" who have tortured me so much since I have been here, death and destruction not by my hand but by the Hand of God, their death and destruction so clearly Acts of God that even the Village Atheist can see it and understand God is real.
In apparent conflict with this ending, I have spoken of a miracle God will give to Smallville which will leave all of Smallville basking in a rosy glow.
Although the citizens of Smallville might be pleased to see the psycho-fascist dopers at 316 Second Street and 302 Third Street gone, since these two and their friends and families constitute a Mini White Trash Mafia here, their death and destruction would not leave a rosy glow; rather perhaps some trembling and relief, but not a rosy glow.
No, the rosy glow is in the God Bubble.
No, we are talking about two distinct events, events which the Smallvillains will chose for themselves. Do Unto Others, Dear Reader, Do Unto Others. Torture the Telepath; be kind to the Telepath. This choice charts the future of Smallville, just as this choice charts the future of the United States of America; the micro and the macro.
God forgives, and even Virgil forgives; and God complains that Virgil forgives as soon as you Americans stops twisting the knife you have in his back; and not before that knife is removed; and not before that knife is cast into the deepest sea; and not before that wound is healed.
That is, God says I forgive you Americans too easily and in that way allow the rats among you to pretend to be hamsters.
We are talking about forgiveness here, to be or not to be, to die the death or live the life, all based on one decision, to torture and enslave or not to torture and enslave.
So the point is simple enough; there is a choice; and America is daily making the wrong choice.
The wrong choice leads to the collapsing of bridges, the deaths of firemen in burning furniture stores, the deaths of media weasels in helicopter crashes, and ultimately....ultimately...ultimately the destruction and damnation of the United States of America.
It is a wicked, wicked thing America has done and does to me; and that wicked thing is the same thing in simple form as the wicked things it has done and does to people around the world. America kills my children for sport; America kills Iraqi and Afghani and Pakistani children for revenge and honor. It's the same crap, different toilet.
It is no accidental coincidence that America's chief export is Agony and one of the great pleasures of the American people is deliberately inflicting Agony on God's One True Telepath. This is America's personality flaw which either America will correct or will take to Hell with it.
Therein lies the value of this demonstration in Smallville. This demonstration has shown how the evil done to me here sends killer shock waves like death rays across the country; and, consider, this death and destruction has been caused by the evil done to me by less than a dozen people. How greater the repercussions, then, to evil done to me by 250 million people?
This is a choice the Smallvillains will make. Will they be psycho-fascist liars and torturers until God cuts them down and casts them like tares into the fire? Or will they be honest, decent people, and have the grace and courage of the birds?
So, today I will begin a search for the place the birds get in to become trapped in this house, to block it off. I never sought it out and blocked before because, frankly, I always rather enjoyed freeing the birds.
What else? Oh, yes, Universe Rearrangers. That's us Space Sailors and the story of our service to God amidst the stars of the Gala Seas; a story too gentle and beautiful, I think, for the telling here in this torture chamber.
What else? Oh, yes, the Man in the Moon. There is in fact, actually, really, a Man in the Moon. That is, there are beings who lived on the Moon; but that's another story.
Amazing, isn't it, the things you don't know?
Contact Virgil Kret at Icnews360@aol.com.
Legal Defense, Survival & Presidential Campaign Fund:
Virgil Kret
I.C. News
P.O. Box 43
Morro Bay, CA 93443
USA
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
His cry of misery will be heard around the world; then the chorus will sing "Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!"
George W. Bush is a perfect storm of stupidity, dishonesty and vanity.
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
"In my strategy, the training for killing enemies is by way of many contests, fighting for survival, discovering the meaning of life and death, learning the Way of the sword, judging the strength of attacks and understanding the Way of the "edge and ridge" of the sword." Miyamoto Musashi, 17th Century.
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
The world is George W. Bush's Iraq. The world is George W. Bush's New Orleans. The world cannot bear the fascist, insane stupidity of George W. Bush.
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
The most important news story in the world today, and the most important political stance in America today is this:
George W. Bush will destroy the world.
posted by Virgil Kret at 10:46 AM
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