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spine_WINGS_chains_FEET_children_PRICHARD?_scars_E ARS_burns_HATED_man_TRAINING_barbaric_DAY_atonemen t
below is today's post on Mobile Audit Club website on Quatrains 8 page by
Kurt Brown, alias Saint Ram Bone, surviving FDIC federal bank examiner Mobile Audit Club http://www.angelfire.com/zine2/democracyordeath/ and Youtube Saintrambone videos (some were edited by Youtube or federal censors) http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=saintrambone Segment January 27, 2009: spine_WINGS_chains_FEET_children_PRICHARD?_scars_E ARS_burns_HATED_man_TRAINING_barbaric_DAY_atonemen t The day will come when all of the children who have been misused by those of their species or other species will be reconciled in the creators mind, our habitat. I make jokes about mankind being like spermatozoids in a nut, but it is a mind in the outer sphere, I am certain of it, and if it is not a mind, it is a cell superior to our minds. We will never make it there in space exploration, it is impossible from what I can tell. Not I, not anyone will make it, unless they or IT is meant to be there, unless this portion or cell is ill or dieing, and that is unlikely. I have some questionable things about myself, as I question everything. When I was just a little boy in Prichard Alabama, I remember my ear was hurting, not the inner ear but the external ear in its outer periphery. I know that often in Marfan's syndrome type medical conditions, the ears can curl up on themselves, as if never developed. But my ear had scabs on it, and I told my mother that it hurt, and she said as we rode through Prichard Alabama, a poor slum even back then in the 1960's, "I wonder what all they did to you." Ironically too, I had on my ankle a scar from a cut. My mother said I came inside one day and my ankle was cut wide open. It was not bleeding and I was not crying. The scar is still there. She said she did not know what had happened to me and suspected I had jumped on a can top while playing outside in the front yard. Now I discover in my later life on my spine, small protuberances that remind me of wings or remnant wings or perhaps even fin structures. Where does all of this lead? Was this something from history and man made or something from the nature of the universe? Why is the back of my head flat as if I was laid in a crib and ignored. My mother was very attentive. I can not see her allowing a head to not be massaged into shape. What happened? Was I kidnapped? Transported? Why was I held captive at the LA VA in Westwood and subjected to forced injections and forced medical procedures in 2001, April 2001? I did not know that the VA did forced experiments or I would not have parked there. I did not know the military did forced experiments or I would not have served. When I was in Long Beach California in the Navy in 1983 or 194 I was butchered by a dentist while another stood guard at the door, and later in Los Angeles an oral surgeon said I had unusual scar in my mouth that reached from the gum line to the top center of my mouth. What were they doing to me? Am I some sort of freak pawn used in a high stakes game of warfare.? After all I was led into auditing not by my own suggestion but by those in the Veterans Administration. I chose medicine before that and should have been allowed to finish. I would fight for my fellow man, the working class if I was given an international auditors job for the IRS in San Francisco for which I have applied. They will not hire me, none of them will now, after FDIC employment, that discriminatory horde, the IT most likely. In 1992, after leaving LA after the riots, my wife and I came back to Alabama. I should have majored in engineering and I encourage young people with imagination to do so, major in something that matters. The game of money is the game of ****. My father wanted me to major in Law, but I fear those in the government buildings and want to go in with equipment to protect myself and test for the enemy in power, finding out what is fake and what is not, and I see their judges as pistol whipping whores with no real caring for any one or any law. I know their claims of justice are fake, just as their claims of piety are fake. In God We Trust. They kill--Strike One. They bear false witness--Strike Two. They lie--Strike Three. WE are taught by them, by IT. WE lose have of their losses, therefore they are back at 1.5, always. Perhaps their genetic manipulations and murder of innocent babies brings in another strike, minus one half for us allowing them to do so. Then we are at 2. Where is the third strike? Adultery? Covetness? In my world the body is the most material, trespassing against my only possession was their fatal and final sin. I see nurses in Pensacola wrecked with diseases and injuries and I see what will happen, nothing. We do not even take care of those who do the opposite of harming us, caring for us. I am considering a nut busting nurses union. A calling where my kind can specialize in ripping their heads off when they get out of line, or perhaps this is just an ugly town, an ugly nation. When I was arrested for parking on LA VA Westwood property outside the gate in 2001, I had no idea my life would turn into a living hell, and it has continued to this day, forbidden employment, outcast, harassed, and chided, continual post traumatic stress and people pushing me too damned far, not only by the government, but finally my wife who pushed me out because of her being harassed at her work by federal agents. I was simply exercising one of many degrees, investigative journalism coupled with auditing in a corrupt and closed fascist dictatorship that seems to enjoy abusing us and treating us like game animals, not even allowed into the building lobby. They or IT claims we are the threat. They used to make us kill innocent Vietnamese people or go to jail for not doing so. Now they have us kill innocent Iraqis and Afghanistan natives or be broke and jobless. Or it seems that way for many I am sure. One gung-ho Joe I know of in the US Army or Marines was a decorated war combatant in Iraq and his mother in law lives in Pensacola. She bragged to me about him once, killing some guys and taking their gun. I told her that nature has a peculiar ricochet effect, and if the Iraqis did not get him, then those controlling US society would once he returned. Perhaps making him an experiment of medical procedure victim in the big game, the game of eternal war. She came to me recently, drunk. She was in tears and could not talk of what had happened to the soldier. He was shot I believe by an American soldier. I do not know how. That is the nature of that stupid game. But then again, I often ask what has God gone through to grow up, to live eternal, and how many deaths before God was resurrected complete and total? And I realize I am just one piece of the puzzle. I hate to see my fellow people and relatives be subjected to the controllers torture and abuse. I look down at a skeleton and see it has my eyes, forlorn, forsaken, forever silent. No wonder the wandering Jews never take hold. Who wants to, all I want to see is freedom also. All I can hold on to is a scar I can not explain on my ankle, and a scar on my ear, and an aching spine where it looks like wings on MRI, and I remember games by some, games in which they would hold children captive, hugging them, playing, and I can not separate the game from the trauma, likely suppressed in my memory, maybe in my imagination. It was no joke when I was held by my apparent fellow veterans who were employees at a VA facility in Westwood. All I wanted was a job in LA, a real job, after being pushed out by the crime syndicates of the FDIC in San Francisco I was a very good wrestler in Jr. High, the best, undefeated, because when penned, I went ape. Now, I often feel the same way, no matter where I stay, I soon have to leave. I feel better that way. I have taken to traveling triangles in the past. I never cross the same line twice. I look at it as triangulating a fix, and strange things happen at the third point. That is where the line from the first to the third, which I did not travel, and the second to the third, which I did travel, intersect. I smell the air, sense the universe, at the end of the second point after having traveled from the first. I do not know where I will go until I get there. How would I, if I had not started to triangulate the fix. 1+1==2. 2+1==3. Strange things happen. Some times in the middle of the greater triangles stranger things happen. So as I sit here in pain, my spine writhing like a bee sting, and my mind curling in on memories that may or may not have significance from childhood, and I remember the torture I endured at the LA VA Westwood and LA County Jail and the abuse I endured on probation, and the whole while, my mortal enemies sitting in the judges seats acting as if they are doing me or society a favor. They deserve what they get, a pant load premature. G-D Damn them. G-d Damn IT. May their controller or controllers feel the same squishing anguish. Never trust VA Healthcare. They have turned on us, on me also. Where did we or I become slaves to these M.F.'s? Why? Why? Harmony in horror. I prefer instead of sequential death, the anonymous death in a splattering in an instance of all so the suffering shall end. But I live in my own nightmare world. Perhaps I know too much, or too little. I prefer cinnamon toast over bagels yet I play with the girls who eat cinnamon toast with their bagels. Yes, I see some things in dreams. Those angels, and I know of them in life. Mothers are often good teachers if left unabated with their young. Some things in sleep are like those things in life. I fight with the devil every night and wear a mouth guard to do so. Perhaps, I am asleep and so God has an eye on my shattered teeth brought back from LA county Jail, my shattered life, somewhere on the remnants of Heaven or Hell. From now on I frown on those who try to deceive me. As one man told me at the FDIC, watch your back and cover your tracks. He was not a criminal. Some of our bosses were. This concludes today's post on Mobile Audit Club website on Quatrains 8 page by Kurt Brown, alias Saint Ram Bone, surviving FDIC federal bank examiner Mobile Audit Club http://www.angelfire.com/zine2/democracyordeath/ and Youtube Saintrambone videos (some were edited by Youtube or federal censors) http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=saintrambone |
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