Tatoo, Part 10
The $627 Billion Defeat
Jews Jaws Four Down
Shark America Six Up
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 247
Virgil's Cell Phone Number: (530) 276-4923
Expect a Profound Act of God Against Israel & USA on June 7, 2008
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, Tatoo (10)
Today's code is "120th Day, Last Year".
A few quick comments on the world that is collapsing around you.
First, candidate Obama's maltreatment of his minister shows what a sniveling little politician Obama is. The Rev. Jeremiah Wright's oft-quoted-sound-bite-ed comments were right on the mark, and Obama should have the guts to say so. Obama is too cowardly to be President of the United States of America.
Second, under the American economic system, a dead American soldier is profit, and a wounded American soldier is loss.
Dig it, as you watch your secret dictator-master, the American economic system, squander American soldiers as if they were the funny money the Federal Reserve prints up faster than toilet paper people produce toilet paper.
Third, we had an excellent example of what this work calls a "Pregnant Code" yesterday. I refer to the phrase, "Stop right there!"
Perhaps the best expression of these words ever song or said in the English language were by Patti Russo in her duet with Meat Loaf, "Paradise by the Dashboard Light".
If you know the title of the album that song is featured in, and if you know her next two phrases, you know what event the pregnant code gives birth to.
Like a Bat out of Hell, Dear Reader, like a Bat out of Hell.
Looking at our Time Map, the seemingly impossible still seems possible, that being that I will have freed myself--or God will have freed me--from America's oppression, harassment and torture by mid-July.
That means if I choose to I will be able to backpack in the wilderness in August, un-harassed by government pigs and cowardly American citizen volunteers for the first time in many years.
If things go as scheduled I will turn 69 on August 13, and it is always nice to be deep in the wilderness on my birthday, so I can talk to my Old Pal God unencumbered by mean little American coughs.
We shall see what we shall see.
Preparing for that possibility, I have begun to gather my backpacking supplies; and I have extended my daily walks from one hour to two or three. When I go to the supermarket tomorrow I will take my backpack, and walk the three miles each way.
I am alive today because I discovered backpacking in my late 30s, and during my 40s developed what I call "Long Duration Backpacking", staying out for a month or more without resupply.
Distance hiked is not the critical factor in Long Duration Backpacking, though 100 to 150 miles is the norm for me. That sounds like a long way to walk, and it would be if one were backpacking for just one week, but with a hike lasting 30 days that breaks down to easy daily strolls.
The critical factor of Long Duration Backpacking is time spent surrounded by high mountain beauty--Beauty Heals.
Psycho-fascist America realized about ten years ago that my long hikes every summer were keeping me alive and healthy despite its constant torture of me; and were giving me ample opportunity to talk with God, I,Telepath to God,Telepath, and my chatting with God is a no-no in satanic America.
Late in the Blow Job President's Administration, there began systemized tracking and threatening of me in the wilderness.
With the onset of the Silly Fascist Faux-President's Administration the degree of harassment at home reached murderous levels, and backpacking became impossible.
So you see, Dear Reader, if it turns out to be possible for me to backpack in peace this coming July-August some huge event or events will have taken place before July 15.
Unless, of course, the psycho-fascist American leopard voluntarily changes is spots and no violent punishment of America by God is necessary.
So as I prepare for the possibility of this hike I begin to gather my supplies.
Long Duration Backpacking being one of my two great loves (Time Travel Warfare being the other) I thought I might describe my preparations for you as I go along. Who knows, you might find it valuable to spend a month in the wilderness, too, away from food riots and wanton mob murder; or just to chum around with God a little. It couldn't hurt.
First thing I have prepared for this hike is toilet paper, but in a special way you might consider trying.
I do not just throw rolls of toilet paper into my pack, that would be unsightly and would take up too much space.
Rather, I roll toilet paper into the shape of fat cigars and put three of these each into one one-quart plastic bags, and with them a book of matches, and seal the bags off with ties.
I now have about 30 such packets prepared. I likely will not take them all with me, but they will not spoil and I can use them on another hike.
In case there is some mishap and my pack ends up in a stream, most if not all of these packets will remain dry inside, preserving both the toilet paper and the all-important matches.
Being a considerate backpacker, I dig a shallow hole into which to defecate, and I burn my soiled toilet paper in that same hole. Then I fill the hole with dirt.
Poop disappears fast, but toilet paper not until the winter snows have melted; and it is common to come upon a overly used lake, its perimeter polka-dotted with little white clutters of toilet paper. Many backpackers are filthy, largely because of inexperience, and most backpackers damage the environment they pass through.
So, lesson One, dispose of your poop intelligently, and keep your matches dry.
Now let's return to the story Sweet Muse is telling us about Tatoo and her western Chinese clan and how God's Space Sailors saved them and deposited them on the islands now known as Japan, the extraterrestrials' version of the Japanese myth of their creation.
Yesterday we learned Chawon, who was Tea in our first three stories, is at the time of this rescue in northern Africa living one of his many lives as a Black African warrior, and Sweet Muse calls him Black Tea when telling stories of those Black African incarnations.
Black Tea's life is coming to a close, and he has made his traditional end-of-life trek to the tallest of the three peaks of Kilimanjaro, there to "taste the snow", a rare experience for an African, and then fall asleep in the snow.
We learn he has done this more than 70 times before, and all those bodies today remain frozen and preserved in the perpetual snow on the mountain top.
As Black Tea is making his current live's trek to the summit of Kilimanjaro he has observed the blinking lights in the constellation The Holy Wolf with which God's Space Sailors were playing The Teaching Game with Tatoo and her clan, gradually preparing them for contact, gradually out of worry sudden contact might drive them insane.
Black Tea is thrilled by these lights, and by the site of a flying circle setting down on the snow of Kilimanjaro and leaving after a short stay.
Black Tea does not know the flying circle was getting water for Tatoo and her clan; but he feels an urgent need to get to the place on the mountain top where it set down.
Tatoo, Part 10
Tatoo was quick to catch on, God had taught her The Teaching Game some five million years before, and she quickly realized what was taking place.
When we Space Sailors delivered the snow water from Kilimanjaro and told Tatoo and her clan telepathically to carry the water in other containers and leave the Chinese jars behind, she understood, she knew that on the next morning at the next camp the same three large Chinese jars would be there for them, filled with more of that water, that cold, delicious water that tasted like wine to them.
She told her clan what was happening, that they were being helped, almost certainly by the Purple Fish Goddess the Dogon People spoke of and whose fame had traveled all the way to Babylon.
This clan had followed this teenage woman on the strength of her dreams and convictions further--far, far further--than any Chinese had ever ventured by land. They believed in Tatoo, and while Tatoo had fretted over her error of having led them into this trackless wilderness, this Impossible Pocket, they had not experienced the same crisis of faith.
On their own, Tatoo's followers had been learning from The Teaching Game; and with the appearance of the delicious water they knew something great was taking place; so even as Tatoo told them they would find the same jars filled with fresh water the next day, that was utterly logical to them all, and they walked on with greater energy and higher hopes than they had ever known in their lives.
Surely the Purple Fish Goddess was a great goddess; truly something wonderful was in store for them. As we Space Sailors say, they were in Passage Passing, going from one state of awareness to another.
(To Be Continued)
Meanwhile, the United States of America, unaware that it was about to eat the fire, passed through the 120th day of its last year.
Jews Jaws Four Down
Shark America Six Up
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 247
Virgil's Cell Phone Number: (530) 276-4923
Expect a Profound Act of God Against Israel & USA on June 7, 2008
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, Tatoo (10)
Today's code is "120th Day, Last Year".
A few quick comments on the world that is collapsing around you.
First, candidate Obama's maltreatment of his minister shows what a sniveling little politician Obama is. The Rev. Jeremiah Wright's oft-quoted-sound-bite-ed comments were right on the mark, and Obama should have the guts to say so. Obama is too cowardly to be President of the United States of America.
Second, under the American economic system, a dead American soldier is profit, and a wounded American soldier is loss.
Dig it, as you watch your secret dictator-master, the American economic system, squander American soldiers as if they were the funny money the Federal Reserve prints up faster than toilet paper people produce toilet paper.
Third, we had an excellent example of what this work calls a "Pregnant Code" yesterday. I refer to the phrase, "Stop right there!"
Perhaps the best expression of these words ever song or said in the English language were by Patti Russo in her duet with Meat Loaf, "Paradise by the Dashboard Light".
If you know the title of the album that song is featured in, and if you know her next two phrases, you know what event the pregnant code gives birth to.
Like a Bat out of Hell, Dear Reader, like a Bat out of Hell.
Looking at our Time Map, the seemingly impossible still seems possible, that being that I will have freed myself--or God will have freed me--from America's oppression, harassment and torture by mid-July.
That means if I choose to I will be able to backpack in the wilderness in August, un-harassed by government pigs and cowardly American citizen volunteers for the first time in many years.
If things go as scheduled I will turn 69 on August 13, and it is always nice to be deep in the wilderness on my birthday, so I can talk to my Old Pal God unencumbered by mean little American coughs.
We shall see what we shall see.
Preparing for that possibility, I have begun to gather my backpacking supplies; and I have extended my daily walks from one hour to two or three. When I go to the supermarket tomorrow I will take my backpack, and walk the three miles each way.
I am alive today because I discovered backpacking in my late 30s, and during my 40s developed what I call "Long Duration Backpacking", staying out for a month or more without resupply.
Distance hiked is not the critical factor in Long Duration Backpacking, though 100 to 150 miles is the norm for me. That sounds like a long way to walk, and it would be if one were backpacking for just one week, but with a hike lasting 30 days that breaks down to easy daily strolls.
The critical factor of Long Duration Backpacking is time spent surrounded by high mountain beauty--Beauty Heals.
Psycho-fascist America realized about ten years ago that my long hikes every summer were keeping me alive and healthy despite its constant torture of me; and were giving me ample opportunity to talk with God, I,Telepath to God,Telepath, and my chatting with God is a no-no in satanic America.
Late in the Blow Job President's Administration, there began systemized tracking and threatening of me in the wilderness.
With the onset of the Silly Fascist Faux-President's Administration the degree of harassment at home reached murderous levels, and backpacking became impossible.
So you see, Dear Reader, if it turns out to be possible for me to backpack in peace this coming July-August some huge event or events will have taken place before July 15.
Unless, of course, the psycho-fascist American leopard voluntarily changes is spots and no violent punishment of America by God is necessary.
So as I prepare for the possibility of this hike I begin to gather my supplies.
Long Duration Backpacking being one of my two great loves (Time Travel Warfare being the other) I thought I might describe my preparations for you as I go along. Who knows, you might find it valuable to spend a month in the wilderness, too, away from food riots and wanton mob murder; or just to chum around with God a little. It couldn't hurt.
First thing I have prepared for this hike is toilet paper, but in a special way you might consider trying.
I do not just throw rolls of toilet paper into my pack, that would be unsightly and would take up too much space.
Rather, I roll toilet paper into the shape of fat cigars and put three of these each into one one-quart plastic bags, and with them a book of matches, and seal the bags off with ties.
I now have about 30 such packets prepared. I likely will not take them all with me, but they will not spoil and I can use them on another hike.
In case there is some mishap and my pack ends up in a stream, most if not all of these packets will remain dry inside, preserving both the toilet paper and the all-important matches.
Being a considerate backpacker, I dig a shallow hole into which to defecate, and I burn my soiled toilet paper in that same hole. Then I fill the hole with dirt.
Poop disappears fast, but toilet paper not until the winter snows have melted; and it is common to come upon a overly used lake, its perimeter polka-dotted with little white clutters of toilet paper. Many backpackers are filthy, largely because of inexperience, and most backpackers damage the environment they pass through.
So, lesson One, dispose of your poop intelligently, and keep your matches dry.
Now let's return to the story Sweet Muse is telling us about Tatoo and her western Chinese clan and how God's Space Sailors saved them and deposited them on the islands now known as Japan, the extraterrestrials' version of the Japanese myth of their creation.
Yesterday we learned Chawon, who was Tea in our first three stories, is at the time of this rescue in northern Africa living one of his many lives as a Black African warrior, and Sweet Muse calls him Black Tea when telling stories of those Black African incarnations.
Black Tea's life is coming to a close, and he has made his traditional end-of-life trek to the tallest of the three peaks of Kilimanjaro, there to "taste the snow", a rare experience for an African, and then fall asleep in the snow.
We learn he has done this more than 70 times before, and all those bodies today remain frozen and preserved in the perpetual snow on the mountain top.
As Black Tea is making his current live's trek to the summit of Kilimanjaro he has observed the blinking lights in the constellation The Holy Wolf with which God's Space Sailors were playing The Teaching Game with Tatoo and her clan, gradually preparing them for contact, gradually out of worry sudden contact might drive them insane.
Black Tea is thrilled by these lights, and by the site of a flying circle setting down on the snow of Kilimanjaro and leaving after a short stay.
Black Tea does not know the flying circle was getting water for Tatoo and her clan; but he feels an urgent need to get to the place on the mountain top where it set down.
Tatoo, Part 10
Tatoo was quick to catch on, God had taught her The Teaching Game some five million years before, and she quickly realized what was taking place.
When we Space Sailors delivered the snow water from Kilimanjaro and told Tatoo and her clan telepathically to carry the water in other containers and leave the Chinese jars behind, she understood, she knew that on the next morning at the next camp the same three large Chinese jars would be there for them, filled with more of that water, that cold, delicious water that tasted like wine to them.
She told her clan what was happening, that they were being helped, almost certainly by the Purple Fish Goddess the Dogon People spoke of and whose fame had traveled all the way to Babylon.
This clan had followed this teenage woman on the strength of her dreams and convictions further--far, far further--than any Chinese had ever ventured by land. They believed in Tatoo, and while Tatoo had fretted over her error of having led them into this trackless wilderness, this Impossible Pocket, they had not experienced the same crisis of faith.
On their own, Tatoo's followers had been learning from The Teaching Game; and with the appearance of the delicious water they knew something great was taking place; so even as Tatoo told them they would find the same jars filled with fresh water the next day, that was utterly logical to them all, and they walked on with greater energy and higher hopes than they had ever known in their lives.
Surely the Purple Fish Goddess was a great goddess; truly something wonderful was in store for them. As we Space Sailors say, they were in Passage Passing, going from one state of awareness to another.
(To Be Continued)
Meanwhile, the United States of America, unaware that it was about to eat the fire, passed through the 120th day of its last year.
posted by Virgil Kret at 7:30 PM
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