The $482 Billion Defeat
Jews Jaws Four Up
Shark America Six Down
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 168
Note: Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2008
George W. Bush Will Destroy the World
Looking for the Peru-Chile God Event
Today: Tactics of the Smallville Battle: Focus on the Petty
Today's code is "Fourth Day, Last Year".
As I tell you this story today, consider that I am not as helpless as I look, and remember I used to love America.
There are great events taking place, like torpedoes coming at the ship of Satan known as The United States of America. Lest we betray our knowledge of those events; lest we give clueless America a clue, we focus on the petty of the petty.
We are looking to two events, the public damnation of a queer who tortures God's One True Telepath--that event by tomorrow morning; and the completion of the short-term God's Space War maneuver called "Tiger Rag"--that on January 8.
It seems very likely the two events will tie in, since Tiger Rag was based on the San Francisco Zoo incident in which a tiger killed one of its tormentors; and in God's Space War lexicon, San Francisco is known as "Queer City"..
We Space Sailors say, "You can always get a fight with Satan in San Francisco."
I thought I might tell you a story today about how God killed a queer, a queer who has been in Hell since November 27, 1978. His name was Harvey Milk. Actually, he was murdered on November 27 but did not get to Hell for a little over a month, but that's another story.
There is a branch of the San Francisco public library dedicated to Milk.
Milk was a queer City Council member, known there as a "Supervisor", and he was the hope of the queer community of San Francisco for a queer mayor.
Supervisor Milk was assassinated, along with Mayor George Moscone, by Dan White, a former Supervisor, who some years later, after he had served his time in prison, killed himself.
I documented and warned of the double assassination and the subsequent death of White in advance, beginning about six years before the event.
The deaths of all three men were part of a God's Space War maneuver called, "Putting on the Ritz", which was established soon after God gave me the gift of audible telepathy.
In the irony often seen in God's Space War, they were deaths requested by early Telepath torturers in the famed San Francisco bar and restaurant known as "The Top of the Mark".
It was about 1972, and America's policy of torturing and enslaving the only audlble mental telepath in the history of the world had only just recently been established; and what was to become the American standard tortures of noise abuse, sleep deprivation and homelessness had not yet taken form.
I was visiting San Francisco, and being alone and confused I was put upon by the queers of San Francisco, just as strangers were put upon by queers in Sodom in biblical times; and the queers of San Francisco loved to sodomize my mind, and from the start showed a certain genius for psycho-fascism.
In those days I could still go into movie theaters without being harassed out, and I was watching a scene in some forgotten flick in which two queer males of the type who dress in silly tough boy leather appeared on the screen, and in planned choreography two queers dressed in the same style entered the row in front of me and stopped, blocking my view, and in unison looked down at me in a most threatening way.
I had not yet learned how to deal with America's mass public torture of me, and the sudden innovation of a menacing threat coordinated with a scene on a movie I was watching upset me greatly, and I went out into the lobby of the theater to regain my composure.
After a time I went back and sat behind the two leatherette queers and I said to them telepathically, "I am going to shoot you".
That event led directly to the shooting death of Harvey Milk, the sweet cheeks hope of the queers of San Francisco, which took place several years later--but back to the incident in the Top of the Mark, which established by public request the killing by God of Mayor George Moscone, Supervisor Harvey Milk, and former Supervisor Dan White.
I was so confused those days, because I loved America so much and I could not understand why America was being so satanically cruel to me. There had to be a reason; there must be a gun at America's head forcing America to do such a wicked thing.
In those days people used to kid me along, listen to my thoughts and nod in agreemnt with them--I thought they were being serious and imparting information to me when they did that, but of course they were just being Americans, they were just raping my mind.
So, I was Putting on the Ritz at the Top of the Mark, having a nice steak and red wine, and for a while spoke (telepathically) of the American naval fliers who had frequented the Top of the Mark during World War Two, praising them, speaking of the love I had for such men when I was a child and we were at war with Japan and Germany--how at the age of four I had hoped one day to be one of them.
Seeing the other diners in the Top of the Mark were rather enjoying this wistful trip down Memory Lane, thinking they loved me as much as I loved them, not yet knowing my love for America was unrequited love, I asked them about the question that was puzzling me.
Were they being forced to be so cruel to me? Yes, they furtively nodded, pretending it was dangerous for them to do that.
How and who, I asked, but they could only give yes or no answers.
So I asked, Is it the Russians? Yes, they nodded.
So, not being as dumb as I looked, I decided to put them on a bit,.and that's why that trip to San Francisco was called Putting on the Ritz.
Through the window I could see the unique structure in San Francisco which is perhaps an electrical transmission tower, which has on it three blinking warning lights, one on each of its three high points.
(Remember the three blinking lights. Remember the three dead men, Moscone, Milk and White.)
Having caught on to their game I asked them, Have the Russians put three atomic bombs on that tower?
Yes! Yes! all the guests in the Top of the Mark nodded in agreement, having the time of their lives raping my mind, not knowing they were signing the death warrants of Moscone, Milk and White.
Ok, I said to them, when i have proof Moscow is ruling San Francisco I'll kill the bastards.
On the day Moscone was elected mayor, I knew Moscone was that Moscow, and that Moscone would die in office.
Meanwhile, back in the USA, the United States of America finished the fourth day of its last year.
Shark America Six Down
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 168
Note: Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2008
George W. Bush Will Destroy the World
Looking for the Peru-Chile God Event
Today: Tactics of the Smallville Battle: Focus on the Petty
Today's code is "Fourth Day, Last Year".
As I tell you this story today, consider that I am not as helpless as I look, and remember I used to love America.
There are great events taking place, like torpedoes coming at the ship of Satan known as The United States of America. Lest we betray our knowledge of those events; lest we give clueless America a clue, we focus on the petty of the petty.
We are looking to two events, the public damnation of a queer who tortures God's One True Telepath--that event by tomorrow morning; and the completion of the short-term God's Space War maneuver called "Tiger Rag"--that on January 8.
It seems very likely the two events will tie in, since Tiger Rag was based on the San Francisco Zoo incident in which a tiger killed one of its tormentors; and in God's Space War lexicon, San Francisco is known as "Queer City"..
We Space Sailors say, "You can always get a fight with Satan in San Francisco."
I thought I might tell you a story today about how God killed a queer, a queer who has been in Hell since November 27, 1978. His name was Harvey Milk. Actually, he was murdered on November 27 but did not get to Hell for a little over a month, but that's another story.
There is a branch of the San Francisco public library dedicated to Milk.
Milk was a queer City Council member, known there as a "Supervisor", and he was the hope of the queer community of San Francisco for a queer mayor.
Supervisor Milk was assassinated, along with Mayor George Moscone, by Dan White, a former Supervisor, who some years later, after he had served his time in prison, killed himself.
I documented and warned of the double assassination and the subsequent death of White in advance, beginning about six years before the event.
The deaths of all three men were part of a God's Space War maneuver called, "Putting on the Ritz", which was established soon after God gave me the gift of audible telepathy.
In the irony often seen in God's Space War, they were deaths requested by early Telepath torturers in the famed San Francisco bar and restaurant known as "The Top of the Mark".
It was about 1972, and America's policy of torturing and enslaving the only audlble mental telepath in the history of the world had only just recently been established; and what was to become the American standard tortures of noise abuse, sleep deprivation and homelessness had not yet taken form.
I was visiting San Francisco, and being alone and confused I was put upon by the queers of San Francisco, just as strangers were put upon by queers in Sodom in biblical times; and the queers of San Francisco loved to sodomize my mind, and from the start showed a certain genius for psycho-fascism.
In those days I could still go into movie theaters without being harassed out, and I was watching a scene in some forgotten flick in which two queer males of the type who dress in silly tough boy leather appeared on the screen, and in planned choreography two queers dressed in the same style entered the row in front of me and stopped, blocking my view, and in unison looked down at me in a most threatening way.
I had not yet learned how to deal with America's mass public torture of me, and the sudden innovation of a menacing threat coordinated with a scene on a movie I was watching upset me greatly, and I went out into the lobby of the theater to regain my composure.
After a time I went back and sat behind the two leatherette queers and I said to them telepathically, "I am going to shoot you".
That event led directly to the shooting death of Harvey Milk, the sweet cheeks hope of the queers of San Francisco, which took place several years later--but back to the incident in the Top of the Mark, which established by public request the killing by God of Mayor George Moscone, Supervisor Harvey Milk, and former Supervisor Dan White.
I was so confused those days, because I loved America so much and I could not understand why America was being so satanically cruel to me. There had to be a reason; there must be a gun at America's head forcing America to do such a wicked thing.
In those days people used to kid me along, listen to my thoughts and nod in agreemnt with them--I thought they were being serious and imparting information to me when they did that, but of course they were just being Americans, they were just raping my mind.
So, I was Putting on the Ritz at the Top of the Mark, having a nice steak and red wine, and for a while spoke (telepathically) of the American naval fliers who had frequented the Top of the Mark during World War Two, praising them, speaking of the love I had for such men when I was a child and we were at war with Japan and Germany--how at the age of four I had hoped one day to be one of them.
Seeing the other diners in the Top of the Mark were rather enjoying this wistful trip down Memory Lane, thinking they loved me as much as I loved them, not yet knowing my love for America was unrequited love, I asked them about the question that was puzzling me.
Were they being forced to be so cruel to me? Yes, they furtively nodded, pretending it was dangerous for them to do that.
How and who, I asked, but they could only give yes or no answers.
So I asked, Is it the Russians? Yes, they nodded.
So, not being as dumb as I looked, I decided to put them on a bit,.and that's why that trip to San Francisco was called Putting on the Ritz.
Through the window I could see the unique structure in San Francisco which is perhaps an electrical transmission tower, which has on it three blinking warning lights, one on each of its three high points.
(Remember the three blinking lights. Remember the three dead men, Moscone, Milk and White.)
Having caught on to their game I asked them, Have the Russians put three atomic bombs on that tower?
Yes! Yes! all the guests in the Top of the Mark nodded in agreement, having the time of their lives raping my mind, not knowing they were signing the death warrants of Moscone, Milk and White.
Ok, I said to them, when i have proof Moscow is ruling San Francisco I'll kill the bastards.
On the day Moscone was elected mayor, I knew Moscone was that Moscow, and that Moscone would die in office.
Meanwhile, back in the USA, the United States of America finished the fourth day of its last year.
posted by Virgil Kret at 5:56 AM
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