Today's Post from Mobile Audit Club, which is placed on Quatrains 7 page is
below. by Kurt Brown -- Saint Ram Bone
http://www.angelfire.com/zine2/democracyordeath/index.html
And some of my videos are at saintrambone youtube.com videos
http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=saintrambone
Segment August 7, 2008:
DICHOTOMY_dichotomy_UNIVERSE_s_SPLIT_split_CELLULAR_space_AWAKENING_consciousness
This thing called life is strange to all of us. Theoretically it appears
we
live in a cell of sorts in space. That cell theoretically has
consciousness
on many levels both in and out and in between. We the individuals are the
larger and the smaller of that consciousness, yet we are not the largest
nor
the smallest. Therefore, intrinsically we can define our conscience as
being derived from the greater consciousness, just as a neuron in the
brain
carries a thought that is larger than the chemical transmitters but
smaller
than the larger brain in total, a part in finitum, or finite. Ambiguity is
a
virtue of lesser greater men or is that greater lesser men.
Now, ever since I worked as a FDIC bank examiner and after being attacked
or
apparently attacked in 2001 I have had to draw many conclusions. I had to
test the management that pushed me out with extreme prejudice. I had to
speculate on the death of the former regional director labeled suicide in
his office that is slowly becoming ancient history, since it occurred
apparently during Bush Sr.'s reign in the early 1990's era.
I was almost killed, or was I killed in 2001. I know I was forcibly
injected with extreme prejudice by federal government officials when I had
fled for my life. I acted to their reaction, my termination with
prejudice,
and they reacted with extreme prejudice in injecting me and silencing me.
Now I view things as different somehow. Mass media television on the
public
channels is like a funnel of distractions and bias. I see the light of
the
television, I hear the sound, I have consciousness of the cover up of the
atrocities against myself, some of my family members if not all, and many
people around me.
Since that time I have had an unusual life. Not much wealth in dollars
but
a wealth of memories and meeting of wonderful people from every background
and religion on the planet it seems. I thirst for more, yet I do not
travel
the triangles like I used to. That became a habit of travel. Traveling
in
triangles, when I could afford it. Sometimes it was as if I trans-fixed
an
occurrence at the end of each triangle or the occurrence was made manifest
to my consciousness and I had sympathy with victims there and seemed to
recognize the assailants. Or did I truly recognize the assailants and
were
they really victims. I think so. A murder covered up as a suicide at
FDIC
San Francisco. An exploding meteorite or something in Oklahoma near
Braman
and Blackwell that occurred on my predicted death year by a young woman
who
predicted her death when we were teens in the 1970's. She really knew her
triangles. Or maybe she feigned them with her astronomical planet
movements, but I remember her lovely hand drawing the triangle for me.
Her
death shook me and I wanted to join her in that wild party that night but
missed the truck and the phone call. Then there was an apparent shooting
near Talladega and a suspicious death the next day of the Senators
grandson
Ben Stanford. It was ironic that I had picked up a homeless hitchhiking
and
wandering Jewish kid from Long Island outside Denver on the triangle ride
prior, and his name was Ben Cofield he said. I predicted Ben Stanford
would
be found next to a field based on what Ben Cofield told me that night as
we
drove toward a full moon in Kansas and passed the highway that led south
to
Wichita and Braman. Ben Stanford was found in the brush behind a
department
store and I would wager there was a cut field or plane of grass nearby.
Then there was the spraying of children with mosquito spray in Mobile
before
Sunset that I witnessed. The driver seemed insane in my opinion to spray
those chemicals while people were outside in the broad daylight preceding
immediately before twilight. The government or their controllers loves to
call me insane. Now I have traveled one more triangle and bought a home
and
a wrench is in the monkey. I am locked in or about to be jettisoned out.
I
hope the latter, as I can not stay there in that home it seems, or maybe I
am just agitated. The man who owned it prior died in the bed I got with
the
house, I just discovered. Once I had my ex-wife there, the first time. A
voice she heard and I heard that night before she left, was also in a
faint
whisper, almost like a song, and the words went something like "If only I
could be like you are". Now I may have to sue to get out of the house
because my full owner****p purchase in the title work has the dead man as a
half owner due to a legal complication in inheritance to the surviving
brother. Perhaps the lawsuit I am soon to instigate against the title
company will buy me a new triangle traveler or a purse of them. I hear in
Mobile now a jet flying over. I am only here a short while. My back
hurts
like I have been shot and tried to heal. The desk moves in fluid like
motion as I shake from inside or outside, but do I shake or resonate or
perhaps fluctuate like a sine wave?
Consciousness inside the bubble inside the bubble inside inside inside,
and
what about outside? When is only a matter of time. So now it is time to
travel again. Perhaps I will drive a triangle back to my new home, if I
can
find the way to the home I no longer want. I normally travel in dog legs
there. I do not want a home. I want a bubble to travel triangles inside
this neuron. Where is the girl I once knew who mapped those triangles
with
such deathly dignity? Kelly. It brings tears to my eyes to this day.
One
day before 8-8-2008. I knew her in 1975 I think. Then there is the puzzle
of the regional FDIC director in San Francisco who allegedly committed
suicide and who I would wager was assassinated in his office, and at his
finger tips on the computers is everyones money, rich and poor and
government and bank transfer. His time was not right, perhaps that is why
I
was brought in to the mix. Now the foray. I want payment, maybe not in
like
kind. An end to the suffering like many, perhaps just payment for services
rendered. Travel in the triangle bubble is my domain now it seems.
Mobile Alabama's warfaring kids of adult stature now advertise on the
bulletin boards, the KC-45,a huge plane meant to aid in killing, and that
is
just another rip off of the American public of the humane who do not want
to
kill or die but to travel, perhaps like I, in unending triangles. Kurt
Sees
45 taken away. That is a true sort of joke. I see no use for a KC-45 in
like-kind either. I would prefer free education and better more humane
treatment of us humans. Do not be deceived. Your brother may be closer
than you think.
This concludes
Today's Post from Mobile Audit Club, which is placed on Quatrains 7 page.
http://www.angelfire.com/zine2/democracyordeath/index.html
And some of my videos are at saintrambone youtube.com videos
http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=saintrambone
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