The $513 Billion Defeat
Jews Jaws Four Down
Shark America Six Up
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 181
Virgil Kret's Cell Phone Number: (530) 276-4923
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: Address Their Primitiveness
Today's code is "36th Day, Last Year".
My Old Pal God has asked me to address the primitiveness of the human being, and since we deal primarily with the United States of American in this stage of this work, the primitiveness of the people of the United States of America.
Clearly you psycho-fascist Americans are sophisticated enough to do stupid things with smart bombs, and to hypnotize yourselves with blather on TV, and to shovel down fast food, and to enslave yourselves to the internal combustion engine; clearly you are not walking around in animal pelts with bones through your noses--but that is not the primitiveness we are talking about.
America's primitiveness is, I would say, a primitiveness of concept; an inability to see something because the concept of it does not exist in the American mind--or for that matter in the human mind.
Let me give you an example, a charming and true story about one of the world's most primitive people, a small community of Papuans--who by the way are probably as sophisticated as you though they don't go to school and they don't wear shoes; and while they may now have Internet they did not have it when this anecdote took place--and for that mater, neither did you.
During my rosy, cozy days as a foreign correspondent in Asia, before the American government pigs sunk their teeth into me, when I could still make love to a woman without psycho-fascist neighbors coughing and banging on the wall, when I could go to a church or a movie without psycho-fascist Americans torturing me for being there--the good old days before God sent me to war against Satan and all you American ass-kissing servants of Satan--during those rosy, cozy days friends of friends often used to visit me in Tokyo.
"When you get to Tokyo look up my old pal Virgil. He will put you up and show you the town."
I always liked these visits by friends of friends because they were always interesting people doing interesting things; and in those days I still loved the United States of America and I enjoyed their insights as to what was going on back at home then, in 1967-68-69.
"Home", that's a laugh.
One of these visits was by a young American couple who were anthropologists, and who were passing through Tokyo on their way home after having spent about a year in a small Papuan village so isolated and so primitive that only about 30 people spoke the local language.
They had lived with these people and studied their way of life; and the point I am leading to is that I am something of an anthropologist, too, and I live among you like a modern among the primitive.
(At this point steam comes out of the ears of psycho-fascist Americans.)
It was a delightful visit with a charming couple who had many interesting stories to tell, and one of those stories relates directly to the American people--and indeed the entire human race--relative to the visible-but-invisible God's Space War events now taking place.
On one wall in their little grass shack they had a colorful poster of the Beatles, and while members of the village often came to visit the couple, and often saw the poster, they having no concept of photography or posters they never saw the photos of George, Ringo, Paul and John; and in fact they had never heard of George, Ringo, Paul and John, or a guitar, or rock and roll, and on and on and on.
Being primitive they did not see the modern item they were looking at. That is, they saw perhaps only colorful forms if they noticed it at all.
.
Suddenly one day in the midst of a conversation one of the Papuan guests of the anthropologist couple had an epiphany, and suddenly saw that the colorful thing on the wall contained people.
Understand, he did not see photographic images of people, but saw people who were somehow trapped or suspended there; and the anthropologist couple had some explaining to do.
So, Dear Reader, relative to what is taking place in God's Space War to save this Earth you are as primitive as the Papuans looking at the Beatles poster. God's Work is before your eyes but you do not see it because it is totally outside your ken.
Not only can you not read the writing on the wall, you do not recognize the writing as writing; and further you cannot even see the wall.
That is about all my Old Pal God asked me to tell you today; perhaps because you are about to have an epiphany on or about Thursday.
I have already told you about that; God's attack on Anaheim, California, code-named "Anahymen", in response to the murderous torture of me that has taken place here; the attack we God's Space Sailors are expecting and hoping to be the long-awaited "Cherry Pop".
Meanwhile, back in the USA, the United States of America, unaware of God's furious anger at it, finished the 36th day of its last year; and, as is a constant in America, I am tortured out of one place and must drive today to another, so it may be a day or two or more before I am on line again.
This new place? Will it be an island of kindness in this ocean of torture which is the United States of America? Experience tells me, no; but Hope springs eternal.
Shark America Six Up
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 181
Virgil Kret's Cell Phone Number: (530) 276-4923
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: Address Their Primitiveness
Today's code is "36th Day, Last Year".
My Old Pal God has asked me to address the primitiveness of the human being, and since we deal primarily with the United States of American in this stage of this work, the primitiveness of the people of the United States of America.
Clearly you psycho-fascist Americans are sophisticated enough to do stupid things with smart bombs, and to hypnotize yourselves with blather on TV, and to shovel down fast food, and to enslave yourselves to the internal combustion engine; clearly you are not walking around in animal pelts with bones through your noses--but that is not the primitiveness we are talking about.
America's primitiveness is, I would say, a primitiveness of concept; an inability to see something because the concept of it does not exist in the American mind--or for that matter in the human mind.
Let me give you an example, a charming and true story about one of the world's most primitive people, a small community of Papuans--who by the way are probably as sophisticated as you though they don't go to school and they don't wear shoes; and while they may now have Internet they did not have it when this anecdote took place--and for that mater, neither did you.
During my rosy, cozy days as a foreign correspondent in Asia, before the American government pigs sunk their teeth into me, when I could still make love to a woman without psycho-fascist neighbors coughing and banging on the wall, when I could go to a church or a movie without psycho-fascist Americans torturing me for being there--the good old days before God sent me to war against Satan and all you American ass-kissing servants of Satan--during those rosy, cozy days friends of friends often used to visit me in Tokyo.
"When you get to Tokyo look up my old pal Virgil. He will put you up and show you the town."
I always liked these visits by friends of friends because they were always interesting people doing interesting things; and in those days I still loved the United States of America and I enjoyed their insights as to what was going on back at home then, in 1967-68-69.
"Home", that's a laugh.
One of these visits was by a young American couple who were anthropologists, and who were passing through Tokyo on their way home after having spent about a year in a small Papuan village so isolated and so primitive that only about 30 people spoke the local language.
They had lived with these people and studied their way of life; and the point I am leading to is that I am something of an anthropologist, too, and I live among you like a modern among the primitive.
(At this point steam comes out of the ears of psycho-fascist Americans.)
It was a delightful visit with a charming couple who had many interesting stories to tell, and one of those stories relates directly to the American people--and indeed the entire human race--relative to the visible-but-invisible God's Space War events now taking place.
On one wall in their little grass shack they had a colorful poster of the Beatles, and while members of the village often came to visit the couple, and often saw the poster, they having no concept of photography or posters they never saw the photos of George, Ringo, Paul and John; and in fact they had never heard of George, Ringo, Paul and John, or a guitar, or rock and roll, and on and on and on.
Being primitive they did not see the modern item they were looking at. That is, they saw perhaps only colorful forms if they noticed it at all.
.
Suddenly one day in the midst of a conversation one of the Papuan guests of the anthropologist couple had an epiphany, and suddenly saw that the colorful thing on the wall contained people.
Understand, he did not see photographic images of people, but saw people who were somehow trapped or suspended there; and the anthropologist couple had some explaining to do.
So, Dear Reader, relative to what is taking place in God's Space War to save this Earth you are as primitive as the Papuans looking at the Beatles poster. God's Work is before your eyes but you do not see it because it is totally outside your ken.
Not only can you not read the writing on the wall, you do not recognize the writing as writing; and further you cannot even see the wall.
That is about all my Old Pal God asked me to tell you today; perhaps because you are about to have an epiphany on or about Thursday.
I have already told you about that; God's attack on Anaheim, California, code-named "Anahymen", in response to the murderous torture of me that has taken place here; the attack we God's Space Sailors are expecting and hoping to be the long-awaited "Cherry Pop".
Meanwhile, back in the USA, the United States of America, unaware of God's furious anger at it, finished the 36th day of its last year; and, as is a constant in America, I am tortured out of one place and must drive today to another, so it may be a day or two or more before I am on line again.
This new place? Will it be an island of kindness in this ocean of torture which is the United States of America? Experience tells me, no; but Hope springs eternal.
posted by Virgil Kret at 8:24 AM
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