The $519 Billion Defeat
Jews Jaws Two Up
Shark America Eight Down
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 213
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: Split Their Atom, Virgil
Today's code is "42nd Day, Last Year".
Looking around for news. I begin this report at the usual 6 a.m., but final deadline is not until 9 p.m. so there's a lot of time left for God's Space War news to break today.
My second-to-last paragraph yesterday was, "That is the String of Firecrackers which at God's request I light today"; and in the news this morning I see a report of a 68-car chain reaction pileup in Hazleton, Pennsylvania; not what we are looking for, no, but a juicy little coincidence; and we who study God's Space war know coincidence is the rockets' red glare of God's Space War.
Here I am, sitting on this big God's-Space-War-going-nuclear story, its engine revving like a Harley Hog's, making me warm between my legs, and I gun it, and I gun it, and I gun it; waiting for the word to release my brakes.
The String of Firecrackers, Chain Reaction; sounds like nuclear war to me.
I try to anticipate the story. That is my nature; I am at all times a news hound salivating. Will it be just dry dog food bits? Will the psycho-fascist Americans be blown to bits; hair, tits and eyeballs all over the place? Will I catch the psycho-fascist rabbit and tear it to shreds?
Witness the Soldier of God pondering the Great Battle, his sacred sword trembling in its scabbard in the joy of anticipation of slaying Satan and all Satan's ass-kissers.
I go to my file and look up past God's Space War actions involving nuclear chain reactions; I mean here nuclear events I documented before they took place.
Three Mile Island, 1979, a hair's breadth away from massive disaster.
I nailed that at least a week in advance and the psycho-fascist citizens of San Francisco knew I did; but the rule then was as the rule likely still is, ignore Virgil's successes they are only coincidences.
Oddly, one hundred successes later they are still only coincidences. These psycho-fascist Americans, they do what they are told and they never learn from experience.
Coincidence is the rockets' red glare of God's Space War. Duh. Coincidence is an aspect of God's Writing on the Wall.
Chernobyl, 1986, the Soviet nuclear disaster that more than any other single event broke the camel's back of the USSR.
I nailed that perhaps a month in advance. No witnesses; no matter; my best work is done unwitnessed.
What do I learn about psycho-fascist Americans with these successes after successes that lead not to my freedom, that lead not to their becoming interested in the Great Works of God taking place all around them but that roll off their mass mind like water off a duck's back?
When the smoke has cleared and I look around I realize that all psycho-fascist Americans are apparently blind, and I am perhaps the only sighted citizen of the United States of America; of course I see this is a huge advantage which compensates for the numerical superiority of the American psycho-fascists over me.
The American cowards-holding-the-hands-of-other-American-cowards say, "We outnumber you 350,000,000 to One!"
I answer, "Yes, cowards, but I can see."
Hundreds of millions of cold, mean, blind psycho-fascist eyes against two God-blessed sighted eyes; ok, I can win this fight, I can beat these American psycho-fascist bastards and bitches, and beat them hands down .
"Make Virgil hate us"; that was the order of the American people's masters given to the American people; the American people's masters perhaps thinking my hating the American people might be a proof of my supposed non-alignment with God; or might cause my trolley to go off its tracks, might land me in a nut house with hatred's spittle running down my chin. "Make Virgil hate us;." the American people's masters ordered the American people.
Ok, success, I hate you psycho-fascist Americans; let's see where that takes us.
I continue to go through my files of nuclear-related stories that might apply to what we are expecting. String of Firecrackrs; Nuclear Chain Reaction; Splitting the Atom...ah, now that is an interesting old story worth telling again; The Story of the Split Marble.
Back in my happy hippy dippy days in Laguna Beach, California, when I had been under attack by government pigs for about five years and the American people were just on the cusp of volunteering to do for free what the government pigs get paid for doing, when I was still allowed by America to have a wife and a home and a profession...those happy hippy dippy days...my wife and I were visiting another couple at their home, drinking wine and smoking pot, dancing that wonderful happy hippy dippy days' dance.
(The Boys and I were teaching Birds to Fly; and the Girls were dancing on a Fable.)
My friend Tom and I were in his front yard and our old ladies were in the kitchen, and one of us--Tom or I, I do not recall--suggested we play a game of marbles.
What would you expect from two happy hippy dippy guys, lawn tennis?
Tom took a stick and etched a very large circle in the dirt, perhaps six feet across, and in the middle he put two marbles, one identified as mine, the other identified as his, and we both chose a shooter.
Tom, being a gentleman marble player of the old school, motioned me to shoot first, and as I got down on one knee to shoot my shooter at Tom's marble I said, "Tom, this is what I am going to do to you in the great cosmic marble game."
(Understand, at this point my wife and my friends--including Tom--had already betrayed me, had already given me the Judas Kiss, had already sided with the government pigs against me; for the best of reasons, of course, just as Judas kissed Jesus for the best of reasons.)
I shot my shooter and when it hit Tom's marble there was a little flash of white light, and Tom's marble was split perfectly in half. Tom blanched. He suddenly knew I knew he had Judassed me; and that I would win in the end.
So, it came to pass that my whole nation Judassed me; and now it seems I am about to split my nation's marble in half.
Meanwhile, back in the USA, the United States of America, unaware of God's furious anger at it, finished the 42nd day of its last year.
Shark America Eight Down
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 213
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: Split Their Atom, Virgil
Today's code is "42nd Day, Last Year".
Looking around for news. I begin this report at the usual 6 a.m., but final deadline is not until 9 p.m. so there's a lot of time left for God's Space War news to break today.
My second-to-last paragraph yesterday was, "That is the String of Firecrackers which at God's request I light today"; and in the news this morning I see a report of a 68-car chain reaction pileup in Hazleton, Pennsylvania; not what we are looking for, no, but a juicy little coincidence; and we who study God's Space war know coincidence is the rockets' red glare of God's Space War.
Here I am, sitting on this big God's-Space-War-going-nuclear story, its engine revving like a Harley Hog's, making me warm between my legs, and I gun it, and I gun it, and I gun it; waiting for the word to release my brakes.
The String of Firecrackers, Chain Reaction; sounds like nuclear war to me.
I try to anticipate the story. That is my nature; I am at all times a news hound salivating. Will it be just dry dog food bits? Will the psycho-fascist Americans be blown to bits; hair, tits and eyeballs all over the place? Will I catch the psycho-fascist rabbit and tear it to shreds?
Witness the Soldier of God pondering the Great Battle, his sacred sword trembling in its scabbard in the joy of anticipation of slaying Satan and all Satan's ass-kissers.
I go to my file and look up past God's Space War actions involving nuclear chain reactions; I mean here nuclear events I documented before they took place.
Three Mile Island, 1979, a hair's breadth away from massive disaster.
I nailed that at least a week in advance and the psycho-fascist citizens of San Francisco knew I did; but the rule then was as the rule likely still is, ignore Virgil's successes they are only coincidences.
Oddly, one hundred successes later they are still only coincidences. These psycho-fascist Americans, they do what they are told and they never learn from experience.
Coincidence is the rockets' red glare of God's Space War. Duh. Coincidence is an aspect of God's Writing on the Wall.
Chernobyl, 1986, the Soviet nuclear disaster that more than any other single event broke the camel's back of the USSR.
I nailed that perhaps a month in advance. No witnesses; no matter; my best work is done unwitnessed.
What do I learn about psycho-fascist Americans with these successes after successes that lead not to my freedom, that lead not to their becoming interested in the Great Works of God taking place all around them but that roll off their mass mind like water off a duck's back?
When the smoke has cleared and I look around I realize that all psycho-fascist Americans are apparently blind, and I am perhaps the only sighted citizen of the United States of America; of course I see this is a huge advantage which compensates for the numerical superiority of the American psycho-fascists over me.
The American cowards-holding-the-hands-of-other-American-cowards say, "We outnumber you 350,000,000 to One!"
I answer, "Yes, cowards, but I can see."
Hundreds of millions of cold, mean, blind psycho-fascist eyes against two God-blessed sighted eyes; ok, I can win this fight, I can beat these American psycho-fascist bastards and bitches, and beat them hands down .
"Make Virgil hate us"; that was the order of the American people's masters given to the American people; the American people's masters perhaps thinking my hating the American people might be a proof of my supposed non-alignment with God; or might cause my trolley to go off its tracks, might land me in a nut house with hatred's spittle running down my chin. "Make Virgil hate us;." the American people's masters ordered the American people.
Ok, success, I hate you psycho-fascist Americans; let's see where that takes us.
I continue to go through my files of nuclear-related stories that might apply to what we are expecting. String of Firecrackrs; Nuclear Chain Reaction; Splitting the Atom...ah, now that is an interesting old story worth telling again; The Story of the Split Marble.
Back in my happy hippy dippy days in Laguna Beach, California, when I had been under attack by government pigs for about five years and the American people were just on the cusp of volunteering to do for free what the government pigs get paid for doing, when I was still allowed by America to have a wife and a home and a profession...those happy hippy dippy days...my wife and I were visiting another couple at their home, drinking wine and smoking pot, dancing that wonderful happy hippy dippy days' dance.
(The Boys and I were teaching Birds to Fly; and the Girls were dancing on a Fable.)
My friend Tom and I were in his front yard and our old ladies were in the kitchen, and one of us--Tom or I, I do not recall--suggested we play a game of marbles.
What would you expect from two happy hippy dippy guys, lawn tennis?
Tom took a stick and etched a very large circle in the dirt, perhaps six feet across, and in the middle he put two marbles, one identified as mine, the other identified as his, and we both chose a shooter.
Tom, being a gentleman marble player of the old school, motioned me to shoot first, and as I got down on one knee to shoot my shooter at Tom's marble I said, "Tom, this is what I am going to do to you in the great cosmic marble game."
(Understand, at this point my wife and my friends--including Tom--had already betrayed me, had already given me the Judas Kiss, had already sided with the government pigs against me; for the best of reasons, of course, just as Judas kissed Jesus for the best of reasons.)
I shot my shooter and when it hit Tom's marble there was a little flash of white light, and Tom's marble was split perfectly in half. Tom blanched. He suddenly knew I knew he had Judassed me; and that I would win in the end.
So, it came to pass that my whole nation Judassed me; and now it seems I am about to split my nation's marble in half.
Meanwhile, back in the USA, the United States of America, unaware of God's furious anger at it, finished the 42nd day of its last year.
posted by Virgil Kret at 8:38 AM
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