Leaving hotel calafornix

Often times there is an “act of God” thing written into the policy and the insurance industry could claim it was an act of God. The policy holders could claim it was a river skipper dropped from a super hornet that took off from the George H.W. Bush, a tomahawk from the Cheyenne an Air Force bunker buster that compromised the dam and a National Guard howitzer shell that blew a hole in the local dike. What’s God got to do with it? The best solution I can think of is that we set a president in a court case involving flood damage from the undam the planet exercise, I show up, claim I’m God, prove it, which would be easy to do at that point and then establish a compromise or idea that will work. The first one I think of is to split the share of responsibility for the damages, have the policy holder assume half of the responsibility and absorb half the cost or loss. Have the insurance company pay for a ¼ and the government (the people) pay for a ¼. Another option would be to have the policy holder shoulder a 1/3 of the loss, the insurance companies a 1/3 and the government a 1/3 although I think this puts a little too much of a share on the insurance companies. After all, the policy holder is the one who demanded to live in the flood plain.

I saw a bearded man wearing a hat with FBI on the front, leather vest and FBI shield standing out front of an Irish bar. I started a conversation by asking if he was an FBI agent. He said he was. I told him I liked note takers and as he was one he obviously was in the know. Anybody who takes notes knows what’s going on. The conversation quickly plummeted into a confession. The FBI guy was obviously pained and remorseful as he related a short tale that kinda summed up his investigative career. He said that he would go out to a site and when he was done with the investigation he would leave the notes in the back of the taxi or van on the way to the airport. He didn’t throw the notes away, he gave them to somebody, he left them on the backseat or in the trunk almost like he wanted someone to read them, to know what he had discovered.

This is serious, he basically wasted his life’s work, and had been complicit with an unfathomable criminal abortion attempt. It really hurt him, awfully, he was actually bent over a little holding his stomach, as if it really made him hurt inside. Often it’s extremely difficult to talk to me. He told me he’d basically tossed all his notes except for his families manuel which he stored… at this point he started breaking up, garbled, speaking almost in code… “On 8 Merman St.” The Merman series postcards accompanied my initial round of message sending. 8 Merman St ? He choked out a few times something unintelligible, “8 Mar Bells (?)” And finished by getting out, “8 Morman St”. It looked like he needed a drink or fresh air or something so I departed.

It was almost as if he was saying he’d been aware of my idea since its inception and was perhaps encouraging the dissemination of the infinityproject idea, more man. That and the obvious Jesus Christ Church of Latter Day Saints. I would imagine there’s nothing more the FBI and surely this man in particular would like to see than the end of the dam ages, superdriplinewatercollect and thE manuel fertilizer machine flush toilet replacement for starters. If one is investigating anything that doesn’t acknowledge the dam crime they’re de facto covering up the dam ecocide attempt, playing along with the hoax.

Why would he and the rest of his bureau toss the notes? Because the crime with the worst, farthest reaching affects or effects, the dam the rivers, shed everything that falls from the heavens while flushing our product down the tubes crime is legal. The rest of the crimes being committed pale in comparison while distracting from the real issue. Yet any criminal investigation would be related in some degree, usually greatly, to the dam sheddy crime. The characters running the dam sheddy crime are the government and the associated dam sheddy business interests behind it all. One might imagine those at the top of the dam sheddy crime, the most heinous of crimes, would be involved with other crimes and often they or someone they know is. I usually tell people the FBI throws the notes away because the results of the investigation implicated those who signed their paychecks. Also, anyone who committed a so called crime against the dam sheddy scheme would likely be “bustable”, so in essence he’s encouraged to catch the “good guy’s”, which makes the FBI agent one of the “bad guy’s”. Of course this issue is one of the reasons I and “the crew” are fixing the problem, so he can turn in his notes and contribute to a benevolent productive society.
IN PURSUIT OF THE PRESIDENTSEE IN BEER CITY USA
While in pursuit of the Presidency and collecting signatures to the effect I noticed something odd or the usual depending on how one looked at it. The #’s didn’t add up correctly. Something was wrong with the picture. There was a bunch of buses driving through town and they were always empty except for the driver and what appeared to be his assistant or more likely supervisor/overlord. Always two of them on the bus. It only takes one person to drive a bus plus there were no passengers and the two on the bus, in particular the “overlord” were just giving bad signals. The name on the side of the bus read “Young” which is extremely suspicious. I decided to investigate and found in the “Yellow Pages” their address which was just outside of town near my place. I showed up to investigate the bus “station” at about 2 or 3 A.M. on foot. It was kinda up on a hill top next to the French Broad.

I took my time heading up the approach ramp, smoking, drinking coffee and taking notes (on the plants, none mostly). There wasn’t any “No Trespassing” signs. When I got up to the backside of the place there was a bus engaged in refueling from a private pump. I approached apparently the driver who appeared cautious but not really alarmed. He was intimidated by the line of questions I had for him though, as if “Why Him?” What are you doing here at this bus company? I see these buses driving through downtown Asheville with no passengers. What are you all doing? He explained they mostly headed out, picked up passengers, children usually, sometimes young adults and took them to sporting events mostly (games with no product) and that they serviced mostly the southeast region.

The bus driver who looked like a softer version of “Ralph Kramden” said, “You probably should get out of here, the cops are always watching the place”. Why are the cops always watching the place? “The place is always getting vandalized.” What are the vandals doing specifically, breaking windows, graffiti, punching holes in tires (all of which I saw no evidence of), what? He wouldn’t say, gave me a “JJ” chocolate chip cookie and I left. I sat down alongside the approach ramp and ate there cookie, smoked and drank coffee and water, continuing to case the joint. No cops showed but two buses returned at basically “the wrong time”, probably 2:32 or some such thing. Hmmmm.

I went back to my place and took a nap, got up early, enjoyed some free organic bread from the Christian mission dipped in store bought eggs French toast and began writing letters and filling out postcards over coffee. A few minutes passed when conventional business starts for the day. I called the Young Bus Company seriously, inquiring about the possibility of renting a bus and “champagning”, you know in pursuit of the presidentsee. They weren’t interested, they didn’t want to rent me a bus. Why not? They had no reason and rudely told me, “Don’t call back”. I went to the next # in the phone book, supposedly a different company, at least that’s what it looked like and tried the next bus characters to see if I could rent one. I immediately realized that the person who answered was the gal who had just hung up on me. She didn’t realize it was “me” again until I got done explaining why I wanted to rent a bus. This proves there is something wrong with this person, extremely “slow” in the very least. Bad food? She got mad and yelled at me, “Don’t call this # again” and hung up. I went down the next # in the phone book apparently a different bus company and called, same heinous broad answered, this time she was a little quicker and said she was calling the police.

I went to “Triangle Park” to collect signatures/ deliver my message and within a couple hours got a call from a Beaverton detective. He was very concerned and wanted to investigate me, so I told him to come to the park. He showed up wearing shorts on a cold, very windy day, red striped tube socks and a heavy “detective” trenchcoat. He looked like a flasher, perhaps like he was going to expose himself to me which he did. He was concerned about my undam the planet message I’d left at the Young Bus Company. I was melting nice about it and explained it was the only solution to the dam problem and basically told him “too bad” about him not liking the idea.

He questioned why I was harassing/threatening the Young Bus Company. Look I called em once and told em I wanted to rent a bus. They refused to rent me one and told me not to call back. So I called the next # in the book… What do you want me to do? Then I turned the tables on him and told him I was investigating the “vandalism” at the bus lot. He was threatened by this and basically told me that was his job. I pointed out he obviously wasn’t doing a good job of it and explained how often the “vandals” are on target, the people getting vandalized should be put out of business and how I was extremely interested in what exactly the “vandals” were doing. He wouldn’t tell me. There’s no reason why he couldn’t tell me about the “vandals”. He should have if he was interested in law enforcement. It turns out many cops are interested in just cruising around with lots of horses, and power, getting paid enough to stay on top of the meat and sex pile. They actually like crime, it keeps them busy, thus the shorts in wintertime.

I told the above tale which seems kinda irrelevant to the undam the planet idea except for the extreme expression the “vandals” show when the target, the dams, is seemingly untouchable or difficult to have a positive effect upon by an individual or small group. Plus some of these “vandals” are extremely effective communicators (even if they don’t “consciously” mean to be) with no editors. If there is one thing I’m very interested in its nonedited or edited by the correct person communication. The rest of the stuff is “bunk” at present in the damages. Also I told the tale to show the reader I work around the clock on this idea on faucets and angles one might ink ludicrous, plus as a prelude to what happened next. It always interesting what happens next after an event in question especial after putting so much time in the putting forth the correct idea. I basically kept investigating the Young Bus Company trying different tact’s, ideas and methods.

A few days later I wrapped up my signature collecting one evening and headed back to my place in the evening. I was across the street from “Triangle Park” standing on the corner about to cross the street at the crosswalk. I had the right of way as the crossing traffic had a red light. A Young Bus pulled up in the far right lane, slowed but didn’t stop and began to make a right turn. The bus stopped midturn for no reason and blocked the crosswalk. I remained on the corner and just before/as the bus stopped blocking traffic began signing loudly (in my mind) without any audible noise, “and one, and two, and one, and two, and one…” I barely moved my lips (but I’ve found it works better, so I did) and snapped the thumb and middle finger of my right hand with the cadence I was projecting from my mind. I was orchestrating and I directed “it” at the bus driver plus everyone else around (I’m “loud”). Voluminous would probably be a better description. Once again, I didn’t actually “say” anything, for all practical purposes I was just standing on the corner, snapping my fingers, waiting for the traffic to clear.

A lot of interesting things occurred as a result of this. The bus driver must have stomped on the brakes cause the bus quit rolling and continued blocking the crosswalk. There was nothing in front of him blocking his travel and nothing coming in the other directions. What is extremely interesting is he kept turning his head from left to right in time with the cadence that Id “put forth”. Almost like his head was a windshield wiper or something, out of his control at least. It looked like he was a machine or had a transistor tube or a radio vacuum or something going on in his head. About the time the light turned green a bicycle cop pulled up and stopped, blocking the left lane. With one foot to the ground looking mystified staring vacant like out towards/passed me. While this is all going on a turd cop quickly darts across the street and begins threateningly inquiring as to “What are you doing”? What am I doing? I couldn’t cross the road, the bus is blokeing the traffic, plus I’ve got a bike cop with the right of way coming at me, stopped. Why are you bothering me? Both of you “police officers” should be giving the bus driver a ticket, not harassing me. He didn’t like this at all.

Currently, I carry an antique U.S. Trunk Company case with a Boston Sunday Post Nov. 14^th (I think), 1951 newspaper clipping that had been affixed inside the lid. There is 4 titles on the page. “Howard Sparks Green Over Yale” & “Musial In MVP Class Himself”, flank a center placed story titled “Your Gift Is Life Itself”, by Bob Coyne. This is the main idea presented on the page. The illustration is of a man on a table donating blood in a small inset in the upper left corner of a larger illustration of what looks like a dead U.S. Marine to me. The larger printed words under the headline say, “It’s so much easier giving your blood at the Red Cross Blood Center than in KOREA. Underneath this is the 4^th headline “Illinois – Champlain Tips”

In reference to the blood donating thing I sometimes ask people if they think donating their blood or part of their life’s energy to a cause that basically amounts to the fight for the right to take credit for the dam abortion installations and “Feed Humans” con (with what, and to whom?), is really a good idea. I could also, using the same picture under the case lid idea and the pencil idea, explain to them that in the very least if humans continued on our present dam course we would end up trapped in a box with a dead marine for a relatively short period of time. With this I close the box, for emphasis, and explain to them that the International Space Station was supposedly in a “stationary” orbit above Moscow and that if they didn’t “ralley up” and attack the dam problem some might get stuck in a Russian Space Pen for an extremely short period while others might fare a little better in something else’s ship with their donations on the table.

While explaining to a few people and the passersby that I was making a “sky hook” to catch a UFO after yet another person inquired about “them” a man said, “The best place to find one is in Galveston”. This being the most intelligent thing I’ve ever heard someone say about the dam/dame/ufo/plant disease/space alien/GMO/vespid/shithead/town/abortion complex problem. In short, a town girl with a vest on. If we could get her interested in assisting us from the horror of the looming apocalypse, we’d have the wHOle thing licked in no time.

Many times a character would walk up and point out or argue that the dams weren’t the #1 problem on our planet or the foundation of the problem. They would say overpopulation was or they would ask what I was going to do or what I thought about overpopulation. I was aware that I’d have to have a solution to every problem present on the planet in order to call it the infinityproject. Arguing this idea for 40 years gives me lots of ammo. Having put so much thought and research into it makes it accurate.

First of all, I’d point out that the dams were the food machine and punching holes in them would fix the problem of nearly limitless cheap food, then our population would quit exploding like we were a bunch of rats. “You think starving us to death is the solution?” some would challenge. No, I’d point out that we’d just convert or replace lawnmower man with fruit vegetable and herb man, pull the last of the farmed salmon out of the nets and eat them along with the last of the steers and eat dogs until we’d began to keep pigs as pets idea. Plus, we could eat humans instead of burying and cremating them. Increasing the food cost through its finite availability being the main idea. People would consciously avoid having so many children to avoid poverty and hunger. In addition we could reverse the present subsidy trend where by people on the dole who had more children were given more money to feed them. We could tax or fine people for having more than 1 or 2 kids, and give couples or individuals who didn’t have kids the proceeds. Simple positive and negative reinforcement centered on their finances or wallet. I’d point out that we could easily cut their “tubes” and take all their money if they couldn’t conceptualize the solution, this being the least desirable fix. I’d tell them it looked like the planet could support this many people just not with the currentless dam lifestyle and food production method. Then I’d point out the easiest way to solve the overpopulation problem would be to quit putting most of our time, effort, and energy into damming and aborting everything, build spaceships and export humanity along with everything else and enjoy practically unlimited power as well.

Many people wondered what was the point of undamming the planet and “saving the world”, then what? We were in Beer City USA so I’d ask them to imagine a big aluminum beer can with a Styrofoam layer (it can be cold and hot in space) and another beer can on the inside, that’s two beer cans with insulation. We might actually use different materials. Slap a few nuclear power plants with lead shields (this is why I keep telling people to quit shooting lead, or they’ll have to rake the world to get back the bullets to make the shields for the space ships) and enjoy cruising the universe looking for a place to “reseed” or initiate life elsewhere. All the while with the ability to return to earth for more seeds or eggs if something were to go wrong with the vessels food growing machine. Get the project set up elsewhere before the sun heats up and makes Oceana unlivable and eventually transport the genetic information in a container of sorts around the universes likely eventual collapse into an infinitely dense point, the singularity or final black hole and “store” it in an adjacent universe or “on the side”, and then when the “big bang” or initiation of the universe begins again transport the container with the genetic info back to the “new” universe and start accumulating interest on the same principal as we ended the last investment with. This way life doesn’t have to wait such a long time to get going. Plus, the total difference in product or revenue when the initial investment is large is astronomical. Wait till you see what we do next time!

While in Asheville, a town loaded with minstrels singing a version of my tune, I hooked up with Blind Boy Chocolate and the Milk Sheiks. Blind Boy Chocolate made sure I got the good lords herbs delivered. He wore a New York City Park and Recreation jumpsuit and played the saw and banjo. They busted him shortly after I hooked up with him (I’m a hot customer). While he was in jail I stood out in the street and sang a remastered Beastie Boys song, “No sleep till Brooklyn” AC/DC tune “TnT” combo including the lyrics, Free Blind Boy Chocolate. The TnT part was a Timothy and Theodore “The Snake” (in MDC Brooklyn) idea. I sang this at the top of my lungs until he got out. It was hilariously intimidating after my experience with the NYC Park Department, to row with a character in a NYCParkD jumpsuit.

I was kickin back under the clock on the corner out in front of the Wick and Green jeweler smoking a cigarette, drinking a cup of coffee and filling out post cards while relaxing in the shade of a piece of poster board I’d recycled from the trash that I’d written “Yes, shut down the government, keep sending the CHIcks”. The federal government was threatening to shut down to save money. Actually the reason I’d chosen this corner to sit down for a while was to observe the F.A.D. (fish attracting device) I’d set up in the plaza of the Federal Building about 2:30 AM a few hours before. I’d decorated a tree with 22 infinity project business cards and was watching the federal employees show up for work and walk past it. I’d counted the cards and it looked like 2 or 3 had been taken before I’d shown up but none of the later arrivals to work were picking a card. There was a mocking bird screaming at me from a bush nearby.

I changed the sign to read “Yes, shut down the Antigovernment keep sending the CHIcks”. I taped the sign back up over my head to the clock, the posterboard was blank side out, without the message displayed. The Wick and Green jeweler came out wearing a lab coat obstinately to “adjust the time”, sure. He ripped up my “sunshade” and verbally attacked me, disturbing my piece. Apparently he went inside and called the police on me. I was arrested on 3 charges. One was trespassing on city property? One charge was littering. I’d extinguished my cigarette just before the cops arrived and the burning cherry was on one of the branches of the nearby bush. I had the cigarette butt in my pocket. The cops said they were going to arrest me for attempted arson? I was checked into the Buncombe County Jail on buncombe charges and put into a cell with Timothy which was par for the course cause Timothy was my penpal or facilitator in MDC Brooklyn. So I hook up with the Mob through Timothy a few weeks before and now I’m in a jail cell with Timothy. Godzilla and Mothrilla.

There’s always some kind of guard sponsored soap opera going on in jail and in Buncombe CC they had the Mexicans or the “Latin Kings”/ trustees in charge of the food. These were the guys who attended Chapel every Sunday. They didn’t like me and said I smelled. I told them it was the sulfur. The Chapeled trustees were adamant about this “smell” and kept telling the Sheriffs. Timothy, who shared a cell with me, said I smelled fine and wondered what was going on. I told him it was always like this. The sheriff forced me to shower twice a day and when that didn’t solve problem 3 times a day. The whole time showering with the Latin Chapeled trustees, of course, singing “lonesome dove soap bar caballero hombres”, a song I created for the occasion.

Finally things smelled so bad I was under observation by the sheriff while showering, pretending to use soap, and came up with a scheme to end the shower creep show. I scrubbed my butt crack with the washcloth and then, right in front of the sheriff, scrubbed my teeth with the same washcloth. This ended the gay showering experience. In addition to all this I was under “observation” which I called the latest in “Abu graba git mo” technology. A desert storm veteran/ guard kept me awake for 8 days by coming by my cell every 10 minutes and electronically “beep beep” or something into an electronic recorder in the door, shaking the door, scumbag.

While here I read the 4^th or 5^th version I’d read of Chengas Khan’s history. This happened to be an English translation of a French writer’s interpretation of Mongolian events. I’m very interested in Chengas Khan, in particular why he may have been so successful. As history is recorded he is one of, perhaps the, most successful or fortunate leaders of armed forces ever. He took over practically ½ the world. How did he do it? My interpretation of an English interpretation of a French interpretation of Mongolian history and the other books I’ve read about him is that his most successful M.O. was to get the Persians, the Shiites, or the Iranians running up in front of the horsemen. These “Iranians” who ran in front of the horsemen had two options, attack the next target or fall back into the horsemen and be annihilated. It looked like the townsfolk, farmers, Patels, shopkeepers and middlemen were encouraged to join the Iranians and run through their own town and continue to run onto and through the next town or get run through with the sword.

If Chengas (almost pronounced “changed us”) Khan discovered any noteworthy craftpersons or characters who did something that was unique, produced or did something that was valuable besides dam and ditch farming, sod busting and middlemanning he’d have the craftsperson spared the sword and eventually sent back to “Mongolian University” on a periodic caravan as a “guest professor”. So if you knew how to do something like make an especially good container, perhaps a really good saddle or cavalry sword “you were in”. Otherwise you were out, and most were massacred.

Those farmers, patels, dam fools and government officials with the brains, money, and wherewithal to “clear out of dodge” before Chengas Khan got there did, and he knew it. They would go hide in a cave or somewhere up in the surrounding hills. Chengas Khan knew these escapees “ran town” and near about 22 days later they would eat all of the dam store bought food and they’d scurry out of there cave hideouts and come back to town to pick up the pieces (of rice) and stack the stone curtains back up on the temples. He knew all of this, and about 3 weeks later a handpicked contingent of horsemen (no Iranians) the “mop up crew” would descend upon them horrifically and slaughter the core of the dam fools, who’d thought they’d gotten away with it.

The part about this book that was different than the other info I’d read about the idea pertained to the mistake or mistakes Chengas Khan made in relation to his overall attack scheme. While the book was about 300 pages and the notes about the dams on the rivers being Chengas Khan’s primary target were only a few sentences, don’t think even for an instant that this undermines or lessons the significance and importance of these few sentences even though the dam targets were presented as a side idea to another idea which also had significance.

The writer didn’t actually mention it but I think Chengas Khan rode up into town instead of how townsfolk might envision it with attackers descending upon them. When Khan got to the first dam and ditch garden, or the last fruit, vegetable and herb garden from the townsfolk perspective he would pick out a dam fruit tree that wasn’t growing in suitable conditions (the tree wasn’t doing that well) and he’d cut it down to just over head. On the 7’ to 8’ tall stump he’d post his “laws” in writing concerning the takeover of town and just like he’d done before every attack he would verbally reinforce the idea. Nobody, no one takes, steals, borrows, confiscates as their own, earmarks for later, sets aside or so much as even looks at anything of value for themselves, basically no robbing, pillaging or looting… UNTIL WE PUNCH A HOLE IN THE DAM MOAT, not the moat around the castle, we’ll do something productive with that for a short period of time, THE MOAT ON THE RIVER”!

Then they would set off and attack that abomination of desolation where it shall not be and destroy the food growing machine, the dam on the river, that allowed the people to basically just sit there in town, shit and drink beer. Once the curtain on the temple was settled, then, only then would they enrich themselves. In the book they just write a few lines about the above idea specifically and much more concerning how it related to what happened later. Because what happened was supposedly a few characters, his grandsons and nephews, violated the law and stole stuff for themselves before the dam was compromised. Chengas Khan made a mistake when he forgave them or let them slide when it became known they were breaking the law.

On the second and third week of March, exactly 800 years after the day Chengas Khan decided to flee the Sanskrit Ho and redirect his forces, ultimately successfully, to take the head of the golden Peking (the ruler of China), I was reading the story about it in jail. This was a big deal cause he was rolling along there, crossed the Indus River, met up with the Sanskrit Hoes (those who invented the pencil and I suspect perfected the whole dam shitty scheme) and what happened? He retreated, fled in panic practically as its written, basically saying “take note” perhaps “Jr.”, me as I look at it, will be able to solve this problem, or someone better than him. So there I was on the 800^th celebratory anniversary of Chengas Khan’s decision to flee the Sanskrit Ho and attack the golden Peking, reading about the decision.

This ended up being one of the most fateful decisions ever made in the world and he was successful taking the head off the golden Peking. Just before Chengas Khan died he defeated the ruler of China only to die himself shortly thereafter as basically the most successful world takeover artist ever seen, with the possible exception of Emanuel. This is arguable though cause while Immanuel may be considered “the Lord” by more people than anyone else, the planet is dammed presently, we are and life is screwed unless I and Life, with a pencil (and everything else under the sun and heavens), can get you all to fix it manually yourselves.

After he dethroned the golden Peking, Chengas Khan died a few weeks later and was, according to his wishes, laid under a few trees down by the river and covered with leaves. No head stone, permanent marker or anything like that, just him and the river. Unfortunately as the story goes his relatives who inherited his kingdom basically threw all his laws out the window, perhaps because he’d forgiven them for breaking them in the first place and they ended up being the dam fool rice growing golden Pekings themselves. It’s hard to prove because there’s so little accurate information written about it, likely because the townfolk who keep the notes, the librarians, don’t want potential Chengas Khans to know why he was so successful, so they delete the punch a hole in the dam idea so you won’t know.

It would take volumes the size of an encyclopedia set to explain the idea but I think what happened was the Sanskrit Ho knew his M.O., knew why it was so effective, the “good fortune” or “luck” he got by targeting the dams, cause they inherently knew themselves how bad it was to dam life. They “caught wind” or heard about how he’d let his relatives slide when they broke his law and the Sanskrits showed him something, perhaps an interpretation of what would happen to his soul, forever, for having made this grievous error. See, there’s a chance, if however small, that if Chengas Khan had decapitated or not forgiven his theiven law breaking relatives who eventually inherited the throne those who did succeed him may have “rowed with it” and nipped the dam problem in the butt, and we wouldn’t be in this situation now. It looks like as a result of his forgiving his relatives for what could be viewed as a secondary violation of the law, later, these relatives took it to mean that not only did one not have to observe the secondary laws but the primary law could not be observed as well, and basically they sat back on their laurels and let the stone curtains get rebuilt on the temples.

This is what happened historically, we know this. We know that Chengas Khan retreated from India once he’d crossed the Indus River, somewhat hastily. Obviously, many things could have happened to cause this. Geography (the Himalayas), but he had a map he knew the mountains were there, he could have taken the low road. He was kinda getting out of horse country, but he could have rode elephants. Perhaps the Iranians were thinned through attrition and replaced by Paki’s who just didn’t run in front of the horsemen as well.

I think though that the Sanskrit Hoes found a chink in his “psychic armor” and the only one I can determine he had was having forgiven his relatives for what they’d done, selfishly stealing from life themselves instead of attacking the dam problem. They exploited this visually assaulting his senses with some kind of macabre incestuous bestiality horror thing that they were doing to themselves, each other, and they probably punched a hole in their own dam and were “trying” to patch the hole with their butchered kids and beautiful woman while feeding the elderly to the tigers. I mean the worst possible case scenario, eating fecal material hand to mouth the whole bit. The ultimate horror show, it’s the only thing that could have caused him to retreat.

This, frankly, is why I’m so brutally truthful about the present dam situation, especially to those one would consider to be “friends and family”, which I claim not to even have anymore, and insist they do something proactive, attack the dam problem and cease funding the dam shitty thing as they are, cause I can’t forgive them for their complicity in the abortion project/ ecocide attempt. As far as I’m concerned, my idea, life forever, which could be insured by easily, quickly and deftly changing the way we do things on the surface of this planet, with large real time profit (we’d make a lot of money installing the idea initially) with a future of no meaningless toil, is the idea humans are going to face in the “big courthouse in the sky”. The obvious truth is that humans as a whole are deliberately attempting to destroy everything, in vain I might add, so they don’t have to experience the trial and tribulation of life. If one was to think or become conscious of what life, god, or the force is going to sentence them to experience for their hand in the dam shitty scheme responsible for the loss of life, one would know the terrifying horror one would experience forever for what they’ve done.

This is basically the picture I telegraph to people that causes some to call 9/11 and have me arrested, this is why they attack me everywhere I go, they know who I am. They’re trying to get there revenge upon me at this time for the revenge I and Life’s going to deliver upon them for all time. This is why basically the jeweler rushed out, attacked me, destroyed my stuff, turned the clock back a minute, scurried back under his ruef, and called the cops on me.

MAGGIE VALLEY, GHOST TOWN IN THE SKY, AND WALL ST STORAGE
ROBBED BY THE COPS IN JAIL COCKE COUNTY TN
DITTO AGAIN $22,000 WORTH + ASSUALT BY OFFICER GALLEON
BRIEF JAIL TIME IN HAYWOOD COUNTY, CAUGHT WITH THE DR. McGILLICUTTY’S
HEADED FOR CHICAGO(COOK COUNTY) AND THE SWITCH FROM THE DAILY SHOW TO THE EMANUEL EXPERIENCE AS THE “AMBASSADOR ASSASSIN FROM MANHATTEN”
I got off the Greyhound in Chicago May 9^th and rented a storage unit across the street. After I got my goods in place it didn’t take long for a Chicago City Bus to drive by with the message, “Judgment Day Is May 21”. Good they know I’m coming, I thought, and it looks like I have 13 days to finalize the verdict.

I went to Lawrence Seafood and met the Police Department. I asked them are ya still Chicago police officers or are ya an acronym organization? They said, “Chicago police officers” but when I checked out the advertisement on the side of the car I thought it said S.I.M.S. internet says they’re C.A.P.S. (communist block watcher henchmen). NYPD is C.I.P. Miami PD is C.P.R. As I was sittin outside wonderin where Chinatown was a teenage male of Asian descent on a bicycle with a pair of gardening loppers rode by in the left lane going the wrong way shaking his tool intimidatingly at the passing traffic. Hmmm… must be that way I thought, and marveled at his imitation of my message. The Chinatown Library, this is the first place I went to in Chicago, to get my bearings. The staff was pleasant, the kids were nice, and the food was fair nearby. I was looking for a “spare parts bike” as I’d lost a pedal while in transit on the bus.

Outside of Chicago’s Whole Foods one afternoon I met a character who said he could get me some herbs. I hadn’t run out at this time but told him I would get some later, talked to him for 15 minutes or so and obviously got his name and number. About 10 days later I called him up. He told me he was staying down by the river in Indiana at his grandmother’s house. I said let me guess, shortly after you met me you got bushwhacked by the Chicago Police Department, shook down, they threatened your life, scared the shit out of you, and you fled Chicago. “Yep”

The first thing I did was hang my business card from the driver’s rearview mirror of a food delivery van parked on the side of the road. It was facing west and one of Daily’s trees was gouging a hole in the side of the van. As I placed my card a piece of this branch scratched my cheek, it coulda injured my eye. Hortus in Urbis is the town motto. This particular tree was a pseudo locust, it looked like it was invented in a lab or dropped off of a space ship. One of those bad fruit, no fruit trees thE manuel warns about. I broke off the hazardous offensive thorny branch and threaded it attractively (I thought) into the chain link fence next to the building by the van and crossed the street to the north side of Fulton and headed west, sliding my flyer in the conveniently placed mail slots, and putting my business card in every door crack, drain spout, and water spigot I could find.

Suddenly, I was bullrushed by two men, one about 15 years older than me and one about 15 years younger than me. To me, this means something, I’m on fire, or really hitting the target. The gremlins are scared and they’re trying to stop me. They were accusing me of destruction of public property (the 18” tree branch) and the older guy was physically trying to restrain me. He was assaulting me. I calmly gave him my flyer and business card explaining to him all of my contact information was included if he felt the need to get in touch with me. He tried to take control of me and physically march me back across the street. I got serious and explained to him that if he didn’t stop attacking me I was going to defend myself and he’d get injured. His younger buddy or son called him off and the older guy said he was gonna call the police. I told him I suspected he already had, the younger character subtly nodded the affirmative, and I told the two I was headed that way and motioned to the west. I told em I didn’t want to see them again and to tell the cops if they called them, I headed that way, handing out business cards and flyers. They ran back across the street and I proceeded “that way” and took the first right and casually sat down in the shade of a real tree behind the building taking notes on the trash, mostly discarded food, and let the whole thing cool down.

A dark unmarked S.U.V. pulled up and two policemen got out. They forced me into the back and basically said they were gonna kill me and make me disappear into a hole in Chicago. I’d already figured out or suspected that this is what happened to “Pan” and the rest of the M.I.A. Chicago boys. I’d already figured out the only thing that saves me is running my mouth. I gave them my U.S. passport card which doesn’t usually doesn’t have any information available about my arrest record when they run the #’s and gave them my expired FL Driver’s License which has a # that sometimes spews out pages and pages of arrest record info.

I told the cops that the felony breaking and entering into an occupied dwelling and felony grand theft, Father’s Day 2006 charges were the highlight. I didn’t get convicted or take the plea, basically I beat the charges. The guy’s house I “broke” into, his name was Jack and I used to work for him. Jack was the ledgerman for the Boston Mob. I’d started the story in my Chicago accent, then when I gave em the FL D.L. I switched to my Floorduh accent. Than when I started talking about the Jack, the Boston Mob’s ledgerman, I switched to my Boston accent. I told them how I didn’t actually break into Jack’s place anyway, I just slid the unlocked sliding glass door over a few inches and asked the two dames inside for a glass of water. I continued to tell the cops how I ended up with Jack’s shovel and used it to install fruit, vegetable and herb gardens and site specific native plants at many places including St. Ann’s Catholic Church and across the street from Al Malnik’s (the N.Y. Mob’s lawyer’s) house.

Then I switched into my New York accent and related how on Nov. 13 at midnight I rolled into Manhattan on a Greyhound and they quit picking up the trash when I hit the street. I was trying to get in contact with the N.Y. Mob amongst other things even though I knew the Mob had fled to Boston and the gangs of N.Y. had fled west. They fled Judea. I went to all the Italian delis, the pizza places with pictures of Hollywood mobsters, construction sites and Catholic Churches, screaming for the Mob. I’d already hooked up with them anyway in So. Fla., that’s where they go in winter time, places like the old Mancini’s, Vic and Angelo’s in Delray, ya know. Two weeks after I got back from N.Y. the F.B.I. rounded up the entire Mob and threw them into MDC Brooklyn on old trumped up charges.

Now I had their address and sent them a resume for the capo de capo position. They communicated with me the very next day and all they wanted to know was what was the exact response I was looking for, and with a couple weeks I was talking to a U.S. Senator at Broadway’s about the insurance company’s paying for the dam ages. Bout this time we pulled up to the scene of the crime, where I trimmed the tree. The guy who assaulted me came out of the building, looked like he came out of the basement, with an extra large square type flashlight, which was on. It was a bright sunny day. I said what the? He’s got a flashlight? What’s wrong with this picture boys? Its broad daylight (I suspect, knowing what I know, he’d lost power in his building or the toilet exploded).

The cop in the passenger seat got out and started talking to the guy with the flashlight still on and began talking on the radio as well. I told the cop sitting up front (who was listening to the radio conversation on a wire I think) maybe they’ll see the light. While the antagonist and cop #2 mulled it over, cop #1, who was starting to act more like a law enforcement officer instead of a kidnapping potential judge, jury and executioner, pointed out the trees in question were installed by Mayor Daily and were known as “Daily’s Trees”. Cop #1 told me Daily’d bamboozled the residents fronting the plantings into splitting the cost of the “beautification”. Judging by the size of the trees planted and knowing what I know, it looked like they were $2000 trees. So Daily had charged the building owner $1000 a tree and planted 6 trees out front of his place for a $6000 charge to the owner of the building, and this was a conservative estimate. Now one could see why the suspect trees needed service and protection. I’d imagine the other $6000 was paid for by the Chicago Department of Revenue or the Cook County Tax Collector, either way, the people. Only Daily knows what his total cut amounted to. I’m sure the Woman’s Garden Club was impressed by this Hortus in Urbis example.

The cops told me they’d arrest me if I didn’t tell the guy I was sorry. I apologized, he looked scared, and so did the cops, now. Something was either going on in the building, or on the radio, or both. The cops, now with a completely different attitude began taking me back to where they’d picked me up. It sounded like they’d figured out who I was, cause cop #2 said,”You’ve got a Hell of a plate in front of you, son”. I thought about this comment on Fulton St. in Chicago and replied Naw, it’s a heck of a plate officer, its good food I’m offering for a long time. Cop #2 specified, “