Society, Part 10
The $580 Billion Defeat
Jews Jaws One Up
Shark America Nine Down
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 187
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: The Secret Story, Society (10)
Today's code is "83rd Day, Last Year".
Three good items on I.C. News desk today.
We have just passed through two significant events in our on-the-spot report on God's Space War against the United States of America; and also just have learned the Republican American Fascist plot to assassinate Hillary Clinton is on pause...it is paused, not abandoned.
The two significant recent events that took place were my advance documentation of the 7.2 China quake; and my establishment of the "Omegane! Omegane!" double code.
As important as these two stories are to you and to me, without a doubt the most important news story I.C. News is following at this time is the intended Republican American Fascist assassination of Hillary Clinton.
I.C. News reported the movement of the current anointed assassin (and when dealing with Republican American Fascism the word "anointed" becomes significant) but for some yet unknown reason the straight military sniper style assassination schedule was put on pause.
Why was it put on pause? I can guess; but I do not know.
Bear in mind, a fascist coup has taken place in the United States of America.
Once you factor that in...once you gird your balls and incorporate that factor, then all the dead you have had to eat and all the dead that is being cooked up for you to eat, makes perfect sense; the snake loses its protective coloration.
Knowledge is Power; the Truth Shall Make You Free; Put the Blame Where it Belongs, Liars singing Liars' Songs.
I think I.C. News put that assassination move on pause because it was so on the nail-head-hard-hitting; and that it had pointed to two culprits in conspiracy plotting horrible murder--Fox News and the neo-fascist private armies, Blackwater, and so forth.
I shined my light square on those snakes; and those snakes decided it was wiser to assassinate Hillary Clinton on some other day.
That's what I mean; the private military operation to assassinate Hillary Clinton and others in only on pause.
And on others? And on others? Of course on others; this is a fascist coup, not a meeting of the Young Republicans.
In one of their scenarios, the Republican American Fascists plan a night of murder, as in the example when the Sainted Booth assassinated the Demon Lincoln when multiple assassinations were attempted.
Different eyes have different views of history; one man's saint is another man's sinner.
Now let's return to our story of The Not-Forgetting Society, where we are about to attend the Society's seance with its dead members, a seance, as it turns out, which takes place in the huge bath of the inn called Swallow.
Society, Part 10
To Tea, both life and the dark side of life's moon, death, needed adventure.
He was just finishing his post-breakfast cigarette, sipping tea, when a light knock announced the sliding open of the door. A second kneeling maid bowed and without coming in announced that the bath was ready.
It was time, Tea knew, for a most unusual seance.
Entering the bathing room, Tea saw that the bath was oval in shape and large enough to hold at least 50 bathers comfortably.
One wall of the room was glass, the view from it being of the still-angry sea hitting the shore rocks that abutted the inn. The wind had brought spray to the glass, leaving specks of salt.
The water in the bath was extremely hot and, due to the coldness coming through a section of the window opened for that purpose, a thick fog mooded about the room.
Only three bathers were in the huge bath. Matsushita and two women were hunkered down in the hot water up to their necks. One of the women was the woman Tea'd awakened with, Atsuko. He did not recognize the other.
The three, hunkered in a little triangle, waved cheerily to Tea as he stood by the door, wearing the inn's yukata and carrying his small towel and soap, Matsushita and the second woman calling out their good mornings.
Atsuko caught Tea's eye and nodded her head in a uniquely Japanese way which might be called demure, but the word is a wooden clog describing the silken slipper of the movement.
As was the custom, Tea soaped and washed himself far away from the bath, at a line of faucets coming out of the wall and about two feet above the floor; and before each faucet was a little wooden stool and a copper colored metal bowl, the washing to be done before bathers entered the pool.
Finishing the scrub, and rinsing carefully so no soap would go with him to the pool, Tea rung-rinsed the little hand towel supplied by the inn, which served as both washcloth and drying towel, and walked to the bathing pool holding the towel in front of his genitals, as was the custom.
Steps led into the pool, the water rising to just below his navel before he reached the tiled pool floor; then he plowed through the water a distance of about ten feet and joined the others.
When he reached them and was squatting chin high among to them, Matsushita introduced the second woman, Tazuko, what had been the comic dancer of the night before.
Atsuko, who had been the samisen player, moved close to Tea.
Though both women had been dressed as geisha the night before, wearing elaborate stiff wigs, thick white facial makeup, and the classic geisha kimono, Tea did not think they were actually geisha because it seemed their whole role was a costume, that there was something not quite geisha about them...yes, of course...the puzzle came together; they were initiates in the Not-Forgetting Society. Tea had not anticipated women members.
Tea suddenly felt very alone. He was the outsider. For a while there had been the delusion that the women were outsiders, too.
That feeling of aloneness was so intense in Tea that me might as well been skin stretched across a granite statue of Saint Aloneness.
Like a fool who had rushed in where wise men never tread, Tea was suddenly in free fall and horribly aware of his folly as he sat there in that steaming tub on that seance-charged stormy day; possibly without a friend this side of Arlington National Cemetery.
In his later years, when Tea ranked the great experiences of his life. that seance would stand with his first night in combat, and the night he killed Matsushita's son, and the night he triggered the military maneuver against the United States of America known historically as The Litmus Paper Ambush.
Matsushita seemed anxious to get to the point, to begin the seance.
'Have you ever attended a seance, Tea-san?", he asked in preamble.
In their daylight nakedness Tea could see Manstushita was powerfully built and in shape. Certainly he was in the area of his late fifties, yet he was stronger than Tea at 27. A life of Japanese fencing had done that for Mastushita.
"No," said Tea, squeezing the towel as dry as he could and placing it on the top of his head, a common practice among bathing Japanese men, "I've never approached ghosts in any way other than through my dream state method, though sometimes ghosts have approached me in other ways."
Tea was lying a bit, but what the Hell.
His skin red from his neck down thanks to the bath's very hot water, Tea was precariously balanced between pain and pleasure. Ask's leg occasionally brushed his.
"Well, perhaps that's good," Manstushita said, his own towel on his head.
"The way we of the Not-Forgetting Society have seance's is extremely rare, if not unique." He smiled his boastful smile.
The conversation was in English and Tea was thinking about suggesting a switch to Japanese because the women did not seem to be following.
"Thank you for your thought, Tea-San," Ask said to him while the thought was still forming. "Adzuki and I speak enough English to follow.
Her English was solid. She was comfortable with it.
Tea found her use of telepathy--which now seemed to be a common capability among members of the Not-Forgetting Society--was remarkable.
Ask looked into Tea's eyes and smiled. The taste of green tea on her tongue came to mind. Had she put that taste there telepathically? Were these people that good at it? Or was it just a pleasant memory asserting itself?
Ask was becoming more interesting by the minute. Maybe Tea wasn't alone.
Tea remembered the story Praying Mantis had told him about his life in the 1st Century monastery, where all the initiates were telepaths.
Was The Not-Forgetting Society somehow related to that monastry? Had those martial monks become reincarnating soldiers?
And Atsuko? How did she fit in. There had been no women initiates in Praying Mantis' story.
And when it came down to it, Tea the journalist could not see how he could make this secret society into a news story It was the best damned story in the world, but too looney tooney to be published even in the New York Daily News, too crazy-true to sell even at the flea market fringe of journalism, the tabloids. If there was a chance of a story being true, they did not want it.
Not all news stories were as simple as newspeople believed. It would be hack, hack, hack through the jungle of journalism's ignorance to birth this story into light of day.
Matsushita cleared his throat. His hatred for Tea was better concealed than it had been the night before.
(To Be Continued)
Meanwhile, the USA, unaware it was about to eat the fire, passed through the 83rd day of its last year.
Jews Jaws One Up
Shark America Nine Down
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 187
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: The Secret Story, Society (10)
Today's code is "83rd Day, Last Year".
Three good items on I.C. News desk today.
We have just passed through two significant events in our on-the-spot report on God's Space War against the United States of America; and also just have learned the Republican American Fascist plot to assassinate Hillary Clinton is on pause...it is paused, not abandoned.
The two significant recent events that took place were my advance documentation of the 7.2 China quake; and my establishment of the "Omegane! Omegane!" double code.
As important as these two stories are to you and to me, without a doubt the most important news story I.C. News is following at this time is the intended Republican American Fascist assassination of Hillary Clinton.
I.C. News reported the movement of the current anointed assassin (and when dealing with Republican American Fascism the word "anointed" becomes significant) but for some yet unknown reason the straight military sniper style assassination schedule was put on pause.
Why was it put on pause? I can guess; but I do not know.
Bear in mind, a fascist coup has taken place in the United States of America.
Once you factor that in...once you gird your balls and incorporate that factor, then all the dead you have had to eat and all the dead that is being cooked up for you to eat, makes perfect sense; the snake loses its protective coloration.
Knowledge is Power; the Truth Shall Make You Free; Put the Blame Where it Belongs, Liars singing Liars' Songs.
I think I.C. News put that assassination move on pause because it was so on the nail-head-hard-hitting; and that it had pointed to two culprits in conspiracy plotting horrible murder--Fox News and the neo-fascist private armies, Blackwater, and so forth.
I shined my light square on those snakes; and those snakes decided it was wiser to assassinate Hillary Clinton on some other day.
That's what I mean; the private military operation to assassinate Hillary Clinton and others in only on pause.
And on others? And on others? Of course on others; this is a fascist coup, not a meeting of the Young Republicans.
In one of their scenarios, the Republican American Fascists plan a night of murder, as in the example when the Sainted Booth assassinated the Demon Lincoln when multiple assassinations were attempted.
Different eyes have different views of history; one man's saint is another man's sinner.
Now let's return to our story of The Not-Forgetting Society, where we are about to attend the Society's seance with its dead members, a seance, as it turns out, which takes place in the huge bath of the inn called Swallow.
Society, Part 10
To Tea, both life and the dark side of life's moon, death, needed adventure.
He was just finishing his post-breakfast cigarette, sipping tea, when a light knock announced the sliding open of the door. A second kneeling maid bowed and without coming in announced that the bath was ready.
It was time, Tea knew, for a most unusual seance.
Entering the bathing room, Tea saw that the bath was oval in shape and large enough to hold at least 50 bathers comfortably.
One wall of the room was glass, the view from it being of the still-angry sea hitting the shore rocks that abutted the inn. The wind had brought spray to the glass, leaving specks of salt.
The water in the bath was extremely hot and, due to the coldness coming through a section of the window opened for that purpose, a thick fog mooded about the room.
Only three bathers were in the huge bath. Matsushita and two women were hunkered down in the hot water up to their necks. One of the women was the woman Tea'd awakened with, Atsuko. He did not recognize the other.
The three, hunkered in a little triangle, waved cheerily to Tea as he stood by the door, wearing the inn's yukata and carrying his small towel and soap, Matsushita and the second woman calling out their good mornings.
Atsuko caught Tea's eye and nodded her head in a uniquely Japanese way which might be called demure, but the word is a wooden clog describing the silken slipper of the movement.
As was the custom, Tea soaped and washed himself far away from the bath, at a line of faucets coming out of the wall and about two feet above the floor; and before each faucet was a little wooden stool and a copper colored metal bowl, the washing to be done before bathers entered the pool.
Finishing the scrub, and rinsing carefully so no soap would go with him to the pool, Tea rung-rinsed the little hand towel supplied by the inn, which served as both washcloth and drying towel, and walked to the bathing pool holding the towel in front of his genitals, as was the custom.
Steps led into the pool, the water rising to just below his navel before he reached the tiled pool floor; then he plowed through the water a distance of about ten feet and joined the others.
When he reached them and was squatting chin high among to them, Matsushita introduced the second woman, Tazuko, what had been the comic dancer of the night before.
Atsuko, who had been the samisen player, moved close to Tea.
Though both women had been dressed as geisha the night before, wearing elaborate stiff wigs, thick white facial makeup, and the classic geisha kimono, Tea did not think they were actually geisha because it seemed their whole role was a costume, that there was something not quite geisha about them...yes, of course...the puzzle came together; they were initiates in the Not-Forgetting Society. Tea had not anticipated women members.
Tea suddenly felt very alone. He was the outsider. For a while there had been the delusion that the women were outsiders, too.
That feeling of aloneness was so intense in Tea that me might as well been skin stretched across a granite statue of Saint Aloneness.
Like a fool who had rushed in where wise men never tread, Tea was suddenly in free fall and horribly aware of his folly as he sat there in that steaming tub on that seance-charged stormy day; possibly without a friend this side of Arlington National Cemetery.
In his later years, when Tea ranked the great experiences of his life. that seance would stand with his first night in combat, and the night he killed Matsushita's son, and the night he triggered the military maneuver against the United States of America known historically as The Litmus Paper Ambush.
Matsushita seemed anxious to get to the point, to begin the seance.
'Have you ever attended a seance, Tea-san?", he asked in preamble.
In their daylight nakedness Tea could see Manstushita was powerfully built and in shape. Certainly he was in the area of his late fifties, yet he was stronger than Tea at 27. A life of Japanese fencing had done that for Mastushita.
"No," said Tea, squeezing the towel as dry as he could and placing it on the top of his head, a common practice among bathing Japanese men, "I've never approached ghosts in any way other than through my dream state method, though sometimes ghosts have approached me in other ways."
Tea was lying a bit, but what the Hell.
His skin red from his neck down thanks to the bath's very hot water, Tea was precariously balanced between pain and pleasure. Ask's leg occasionally brushed his.
"Well, perhaps that's good," Manstushita said, his own towel on his head.
"The way we of the Not-Forgetting Society have seance's is extremely rare, if not unique." He smiled his boastful smile.
The conversation was in English and Tea was thinking about suggesting a switch to Japanese because the women did not seem to be following.
"Thank you for your thought, Tea-San," Ask said to him while the thought was still forming. "Adzuki and I speak enough English to follow.
Her English was solid. She was comfortable with it.
Tea found her use of telepathy--which now seemed to be a common capability among members of the Not-Forgetting Society--was remarkable.
Ask looked into Tea's eyes and smiled. The taste of green tea on her tongue came to mind. Had she put that taste there telepathically? Were these people that good at it? Or was it just a pleasant memory asserting itself?
Ask was becoming more interesting by the minute. Maybe Tea wasn't alone.
Tea remembered the story Praying Mantis had told him about his life in the 1st Century monastery, where all the initiates were telepaths.
Was The Not-Forgetting Society somehow related to that monastry? Had those martial monks become reincarnating soldiers?
And Atsuko? How did she fit in. There had been no women initiates in Praying Mantis' story.
And when it came down to it, Tea the journalist could not see how he could make this secret society into a news story It was the best damned story in the world, but too looney tooney to be published even in the New York Daily News, too crazy-true to sell even at the flea market fringe of journalism, the tabloids. If there was a chance of a story being true, they did not want it.
Not all news stories were as simple as newspeople believed. It would be hack, hack, hack through the jungle of journalism's ignorance to birth this story into light of day.
Matsushita cleared his throat. His hatred for Tea was better concealed than it had been the night before.
(To Be Continued)
Meanwhile, the USA, unaware it was about to eat the fire, passed through the 83rd day of its last year.
posted by Virgil Kret at 8:40 PM
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