The $1,016 Billion Defeat
DO TO POSTING ERROR THIS REPORT IS RE-POSTED ONE DAY LATER.
Another bout of America-contrived homelessness begins tomorrow. I plan to file a report tomorrow, then it is off into the Void for me, round and round he goes, and where he stops no one knows.
If one looks at it the right way, homelessness is a key to adventure, a journey into the unknown, into risk, into potential pleasant surprises--which is what adventure is.
I like adventure. I like looking a bear in the eye and feeling, not fear, no, awe at the beauty of the bear. I have done that once close-up and it was marvelous. The bear was quite telepathic.
When God gives us duties, God prepares us for what we must do...no, let me rephrase that...for what we are honored to do.
I was born to write The Obituary of the World, and God could see ten thousand years ago how wicked and cruel America would be to me. God understands the nature of the beast, Man.
So, when in 1967 that cowardly organization of men and women in uniform, US Naval Intelligence, attacked me, God had prepared me for that attack my whole life through.
Why would US Naval Intelligence attack me? I suggest is the nature of the secret pig beast to attack the innocent and the helpless; just as it is the nature of the public police pig beast of torture prisoners and create false charges.
This is true in every nation on this Earth. Give a human being power over another human being and sadism and injustice will result.
When God gave me the gift of audible mental telepathy in about 1971, God gave me the gift of helplessness.
In fact, of course, I was helpless before, helpless to defend my home and my woman in Tokyo from the American secret pig beast, and helpless before the ever-growing government pig swarming of my life when I returned to the States.
But there is no fighting secret government pigs, who have endless numbers and endless time and endless petty meanness, and no checks on their power...on paper perhaps...but in reality, no.
The American secret pigs could and did with government-blessed impunity contrive to get me, a 27-year-old American wire service journalist in Tokyo, murdered by the Japanese radical left--and face absolutely no condemnation for it.
The reason they tried to get me murdered? No reason, other than I had caught the eye of the beast.
Once when I was a little boy, maybe 3, I wandered into the corral of a bull, and suddenly there I was in a staring contest with the bull, the bull ten yards in front of me, the fence and safety ten yards behind me. Fortunately my grandfather came along and saved the bull from me.
It was much that way with the government beast and I. Suddenly there it was, the beast bent on trampling my life.
I was accused by the naval intelligence beast of being a violent revolutionary, I think because I spoke against the Vietnam War over gin and tonics with friends at the Foreign Correspondents Club of Japan.
That was it, and from my exercising of free speech came 40 years of government pig attacks.
Where secret government pigs go, the Constitution of the United States of America does not go with them.
So what did the gift of audible mental telepathy do that was good for me when it made me helpless before the American people?
It gave me a big target, a torturer I could see and fight, and it taught me as George Orwell had tried to teach us in Animal Farm, in the end you can't tell the pigs from the people.
This had been my argument with God when I first learned of God's plan to rip the American people to shreds, that the pigs and the people are different.
I said the old saw to God, the government is bad but the people are good.
God had always said I loved America too much, and that gift of audible mental telepathy allowed America to prove that to me. America proved to me, Dear Reader, that America is not love-worthy.
So, when I suddenly appeared on the news events stage as a man gone strangely audibly telepathic I was attempting to introduce what I called
"The 28-Day Peace Plan".
It was a plan not just to open a way to end the Vietnam war several years and 20-30 thousand American and untold hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese deaths before it ended, but also a plan to bring peace to American families, who were so ruptured in those days, and also a plan for individual peace, peace in the hearts and minds of individual people.
That was my "crime", Dear Reader; that is the reason the American people have tortured and enslaved me for over 35 years.
How dare I? What ego! First the son of a bitch talks against war, then he tries to stop it.
I have to admit, God was right. Not only is the American government bad, but the American people are bad, too.
Look, everybody! A helpless man, a telepathic man, how easy it is for us to have total power over him...how easy it is for us to make his life miserable!
The joy of torture is America's greatest joy, concealed within the gingerbread of rationalization, but joy nonetheless.
I have seen the glassy eyed joy of torture in thousands of American eyes.
It is not my duty or responsibility to psychoanalyze the psycho-fascist American volunteer torturers. We God's Space Sailors deal with Good and Evil, not health and sickness.
A child murder is evil; and if he has the flu he is sick.
I understand that the rationalization for the torturing me by Americans comes down to the...what?...creepiness of my audible mental telepathy, that somehow I am invading their space.
I can dig that; but here is the evil thing: they force me to be in their space.
Were that not the case I would have found a way to live and work in peace and freedom and be raising my children by 1975. I would have found my telepathic range and I would have found a place to live out of telepathic earshot...a ranch in Montana perhaps, or in a cabin deep in the wilderness; where I could have polished my natural, telepathic gift of finding children lost in forests.
I could have done great good with my gift of audible mental telepathy. We would be living in a different world today.
There are many directions this story could have gone, but each time a fork in the road came along, one road to happiness for the Telepath and the other for pain for the Telepath, the American people voted with false coughs to inflicted pain.
What if another fork in the road had been taken? What if, when I documented two weeks in advance Squeaky Fromme's pathetic attempt so assassinate President Ford, NBC had not kept the story to itself?
Ronald Reagan would not have been shot. The 911 attack would have been foiled because my credentials would have been solid and my warnings heeded, all that growing out of the NBC lie, and the supporting lies of all journalism.
Think about that when you allow yourself to know I documented NBC's Tim Russert's death in advance. It is in the achieves. He died on June 13, and I started talking about it about four days before.
NBC is guilty of a huge crime when it comes to the torture-enslavement of God's One True Telepath.
Now the American people are in a hell of a jam, being sodomized by Big Money, and being demonstrably evil in the Eyes of God.
As far as they are down the Road to Hell, still to this day the Americans torture me with glee; and bend over and spread their cheeks for Big Money.
The American people took glee in killing my children--ah, not allowing them to be born, a fine legal point here on Earth but not in Heaven--and took glee in driving me out of home after home after home.
If you be the son of God come down from that cross, the mocking Jews said to Jesus.
If you be God's One True Telepath come down from that cross, the mocking Americans say.
Same, same; 2,000 years of Christianity and not an inch of growth.
Everything else in America's arsenal of rationalization--the criminal charges against me kept secret from me, the argument that people around me have the right to torture me if they do not like me or my telepathy--all melt before the basic fact that Americans love to torture me.
That, Dear Reader, is a most serious and telling crime in the Eyes of God. I know America thinks it is a damn funny joke; but I value God's Opinion more.
So, off I go on another adventure into homelessness. What do I leave behind? I have been renting a little room in a house where almost all who come here tortured me as if they had every right in the universe to do so, to torture me because that is what is done to God's One True Telepath in the United States of America.
And sure, I am leaving one frying pan of a home and looking for another home which will almost certainly be another frying pan if the past indicates the future, but God has something up God's sleeve for me and there is pleasurable anticipation in that; and in the mean time I will be in my car, a zero torture zone, driving along, listening to music on the radio. I love to drive long distances. I would drive to South America if there were a road.
What I will be looking for as I travel is a way to live on $499 a month, my Social Security pension, or find additional income, and within that search I have a "Rich Plan" and a "Poor Plan".
The two plans are actually quite similar in that they involve doing things I like to do--like going to sea and hiking wilderness trails...and writing the Word of God as I know it; that is, writing what you are reading right now, The Obituary of the World.
In the Poor Plan I live on a little sailboat. In the Rich Plan I live on a big sailboat. In the Poor Plan I hike the trails of the Olympic Peninsula. In the Rich Plan I hike the trails of the Siberian wilderness.
The writing in both cases would be the same, because this Earth dies before the sun sets on 2064 whether I am rich or poor.
Another bout of America-contrived homelessness begins tomorrow. I plan to file a report tomorrow, then it is off into the Void for me, round and round he goes, and where he stops no one knows.
If one looks at it the right way, homelessness is a key to adventure, a journey into the unknown, into risk, into potential pleasant surprises--which is what adventure is.
I like adventure. I like looking a bear in the eye and feeling, not fear, no, awe at the beauty of the bear. I have done that once close-up and it was marvelous. The bear was quite telepathic.
When God gives us duties, God prepares us for what we must do...no, let me rephrase that...for what we are honored to do.
I was born to write The Obituary of the World, and God could see ten thousand years ago how wicked and cruel America would be to me. God understands the nature of the beast, Man.
So, when in 1967 that cowardly organization of men and women in uniform, US Naval Intelligence, attacked me, God had prepared me for that attack my whole life through.
Why would US Naval Intelligence attack me? I suggest is the nature of the secret pig beast to attack the innocent and the helpless; just as it is the nature of the public police pig beast of torture prisoners and create false charges.
This is true in every nation on this Earth. Give a human being power over another human being and sadism and injustice will result.
When God gave me the gift of audible mental telepathy in about 1971, God gave me the gift of helplessness.
In fact, of course, I was helpless before, helpless to defend my home and my woman in Tokyo from the American secret pig beast, and helpless before the ever-growing government pig swarming of my life when I returned to the States.
But there is no fighting secret government pigs, who have endless numbers and endless time and endless petty meanness, and no checks on their power...on paper perhaps...but in reality, no.
The American secret pigs could and did with government-blessed impunity contrive to get me, a 27-year-old American wire service journalist in Tokyo, murdered by the Japanese radical left--and face absolutely no condemnation for it.
The reason they tried to get me murdered? No reason, other than I had caught the eye of the beast.
Once when I was a little boy, maybe 3, I wandered into the corral of a bull, and suddenly there I was in a staring contest with the bull, the bull ten yards in front of me, the fence and safety ten yards behind me. Fortunately my grandfather came along and saved the bull from me.
It was much that way with the government beast and I. Suddenly there it was, the beast bent on trampling my life.
I was accused by the naval intelligence beast of being a violent revolutionary, I think because I spoke against the Vietnam War over gin and tonics with friends at the Foreign Correspondents Club of Japan.
That was it, and from my exercising of free speech came 40 years of government pig attacks.
Where secret government pigs go, the Constitution of the United States of America does not go with them.
So what did the gift of audible mental telepathy do that was good for me when it made me helpless before the American people?
It gave me a big target, a torturer I could see and fight, and it taught me as George Orwell had tried to teach us in Animal Farm, in the end you can't tell the pigs from the people.
This had been my argument with God when I first learned of God's plan to rip the American people to shreds, that the pigs and the people are different.
I said the old saw to God, the government is bad but the people are good.
God had always said I loved America too much, and that gift of audible mental telepathy allowed America to prove that to me. America proved to me, Dear Reader, that America is not love-worthy.
So, when I suddenly appeared on the news events stage as a man gone strangely audibly telepathic I was attempting to introduce what I called
"The 28-Day Peace Plan".
It was a plan not just to open a way to end the Vietnam war several years and 20-30 thousand American and untold hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese deaths before it ended, but also a plan to bring peace to American families, who were so ruptured in those days, and also a plan for individual peace, peace in the hearts and minds of individual people.
That was my "crime", Dear Reader; that is the reason the American people have tortured and enslaved me for over 35 years.
How dare I? What ego! First the son of a bitch talks against war, then he tries to stop it.
I have to admit, God was right. Not only is the American government bad, but the American people are bad, too.
Look, everybody! A helpless man, a telepathic man, how easy it is for us to have total power over him...how easy it is for us to make his life miserable!
The joy of torture is America's greatest joy, concealed within the gingerbread of rationalization, but joy nonetheless.
I have seen the glassy eyed joy of torture in thousands of American eyes.
It is not my duty or responsibility to psychoanalyze the psycho-fascist American volunteer torturers. We God's Space Sailors deal with Good and Evil, not health and sickness.
A child murder is evil; and if he has the flu he is sick.
I understand that the rationalization for the torturing me by Americans comes down to the...what?...creepiness of my audible mental telepathy, that somehow I am invading their space.
I can dig that; but here is the evil thing: they force me to be in their space.
Were that not the case I would have found a way to live and work in peace and freedom and be raising my children by 1975. I would have found my telepathic range and I would have found a place to live out of telepathic earshot...a ranch in Montana perhaps, or in a cabin deep in the wilderness; where I could have polished my natural, telepathic gift of finding children lost in forests.
I could have done great good with my gift of audible mental telepathy. We would be living in a different world today.
There are many directions this story could have gone, but each time a fork in the road came along, one road to happiness for the Telepath and the other for pain for the Telepath, the American people voted with false coughs to inflicted pain.
What if another fork in the road had been taken? What if, when I documented two weeks in advance Squeaky Fromme's pathetic attempt so assassinate President Ford, NBC had not kept the story to itself?
Ronald Reagan would not have been shot. The 911 attack would have been foiled because my credentials would have been solid and my warnings heeded, all that growing out of the NBC lie, and the supporting lies of all journalism.
Think about that when you allow yourself to know I documented NBC's Tim Russert's death in advance. It is in the achieves. He died on June 13, and I started talking about it about four days before.
NBC is guilty of a huge crime when it comes to the torture-enslavement of God's One True Telepath.
Now the American people are in a hell of a jam, being sodomized by Big Money, and being demonstrably evil in the Eyes of God.
As far as they are down the Road to Hell, still to this day the Americans torture me with glee; and bend over and spread their cheeks for Big Money.
The American people took glee in killing my children--ah, not allowing them to be born, a fine legal point here on Earth but not in Heaven--and took glee in driving me out of home after home after home.
If you be the son of God come down from that cross, the mocking Jews said to Jesus.
If you be God's One True Telepath come down from that cross, the mocking Americans say.
Same, same; 2,000 years of Christianity and not an inch of growth.
Everything else in America's arsenal of rationalization--the criminal charges against me kept secret from me, the argument that people around me have the right to torture me if they do not like me or my telepathy--all melt before the basic fact that Americans love to torture me.
That, Dear Reader, is a most serious and telling crime in the Eyes of God. I know America thinks it is a damn funny joke; but I value God's Opinion more.
So, off I go on another adventure into homelessness. What do I leave behind? I have been renting a little room in a house where almost all who come here tortured me as if they had every right in the universe to do so, to torture me because that is what is done to God's One True Telepath in the United States of America.
And sure, I am leaving one frying pan of a home and looking for another home which will almost certainly be another frying pan if the past indicates the future, but God has something up God's sleeve for me and there is pleasurable anticipation in that; and in the mean time I will be in my car, a zero torture zone, driving along, listening to music on the radio. I love to drive long distances. I would drive to South America if there were a road.
What I will be looking for as I travel is a way to live on $499 a month, my Social Security pension, or find additional income, and within that search I have a "Rich Plan" and a "Poor Plan".
The two plans are actually quite similar in that they involve doing things I like to do--like going to sea and hiking wilderness trails...and writing the Word of God as I know it; that is, writing what you are reading right now, The Obituary of the World.
In the Poor Plan I live on a little sailboat. In the Rich Plan I live on a big sailboat. In the Poor Plan I hike the trails of the Olympic Peninsula. In the Rich Plan I hike the trails of the Siberian wilderness.
The writing in both cases would be the same, because this Earth dies before the sun sets on 2064 whether I am rich or poor.
posted by Virgil Kret at 7:29 AM
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