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I’m always trying to explain and get help for myself to get away from this that, for instance, Alfred Nobel was one of these “Jesus father and son” -type of generationally-enslaved people and, dynamite-inventor, before he passed he’d written a little play titled “Nemesis” based on the 16th century Cenci family where the girl Beatrice despised the (fraud-) parent, and that pattern is part of this “Armageddon Show” script that is all over my real little life alone out here and then I’m old now and there turns out to be thousands of these mass-reproduced “offspring-descendants” of this particular fraud-parent I’d gotten and these strangers have been underground-all in my business and there turns out to be a bunch of other fraud-relatives’ reproductive matter-descendant people (peopleoids?) around and I’m oblivious to all whatever goes on in any underground ever but these people are all being used toward the Armageddon-desire of the captors of the “Jesus father and son-type” of captive to the system people, which is all a little difficult to describe but there’s alot more with the animosity and problems like that and this what all is done to me isn’t really describable and I don’t have anyone to speak with about anything and little time even for getting it jotted at all about but I wanted to at least get this important factor noted, that the script has me horrified and terrorized by those total strangers off of the illegitimate people-manufacturing bs.
fraud-parent scripted “Nemesis” but on the far-left is the high-functioning Autist-psychopath with the hallucinogen-dependence and con artistry that has the whole planet into this underworld-system that’s actually supposed to be any “nemesis,” not this stranger that had raised me to believe they were regular biological-parents and not “Brave New World” fraudulent-family. The Autist on the far-left might have been Lenny Bruce or Pearl Bailey’s husband drummer Lou Bellson, who it’s possible might have descended or been descended from the drummer Gene Krupa who’d perhaps been descended from that Indian Pehriska-Ruhpa.
Claude Dubois and all of them maybe come from the figure you can barely notice in the lower-right corner, I’ll try to get an enlargement. He’s got breats and waist-length hair and is wearing a headband that says Avaricia, and with the help of Ingratitutde is carrying Ignorancia. Then that’s my type of person on the far left chasing everyone away from the raging fire, that tree on the left of her wearing some word-banner maybe about that she’s stuck there to be consumed by the fire. That’s a “wreath” with spirit-people in it, only able to just watch, probably try to shout out to run and hurry, etc. This horror-science fiction with the fraud-parent’s being my “Nemesis” when I’m trying to work on getting attention to the invaders’ Autism-psychopathy is all gratuitous, it’s just horror-science fiction for me out here. (k.foshay, 8/1/17)
18 June 2017, I don’t know what’s going on, they’re, “they’re,” stealing my emails where the photo-emails had been going just fine. A standard problem is that this “Merchant of Venice” like in the You Were Wrong Peter Paul Rubens, Alexander Graham Bell, the so-called by me generational-slave #2 type, spies on everything I do and vetoes anything new I find by looking at what I could potentially do, how I could potentially make contact out of this ghost-prisonership they and their system for the Autists, and Neanderthals, under the other side of the world have me in. First it was this “misc.” file with the letter from the IRS that I really really have to figure out and reply to, and then I took some pictures of the Cultural Tourism signboard outside the library near the night-shelter horror I’m stranded in, that I sent some pictures of the boat in the painting on the poster signboard with its caption and an attempt to get the write-up, which might be here on their website but my time is really limited for looking up things so I haven’t checked that particular file yet. It’s just a picture of a circa Civil War big ship and a caption that perhaps explains that the Navy Yard became a huge weapons manufacturer back then, which I guess it’d continued to be through WWII. It’s just my offhand from longtime being in this town guess that because Captain John Smith, one of the “generational-slave #2 types” according to my thinking, had found this area and that since his finding of it I figure the system he was in has been working-up the area and I’m guessing that it was toward doing that big “Babylon, O Babylon” from near the end of the book of Revelation, prophecy-part, which is like the big blow up after the 16:16 bit about at a place called Har-Megiddo or however each translation might go. I wish I was a little bit safer and I’d be glad to blab that it’s also my personal “suspectation” that that great Whore was one of the local politicians but who’s still in office so I’m like in a mudslide to disappearance and will have to keep this to myself, which is a shame as it’s nothing but a personal suspectation, not a guess or a figuring let alone knowledge of anything, it’s just that from all different kinds of teeny bizarre bits of this ghost-prisonership of myself and what I’ve been through and what the situation was back before the millennial-turn that that might be something for adults to actually look into if there ever was a retrospect-view of what the system has been pulling, which right now is that I’m not receiving the gmails I’m sending to here and that’s really scary. The system loves for me to be scared though, it’s like they’ll do anything to make me nervous because they’re like “wired to” myself and use my nervousness as excuse for their slaughter-ways. Decades of this now. This library branch I’m in always does this awful noise as soon as I enter that sounds like a “sensor-meter” on us where someone’s an hysterical female in their inner-selves, is scared and a nervous wreck. Then after I’ve been typing for awhile it calms down but usually starts up again before I can get to the exit. I don’t know what to do about this horror, I really need those emails. This morning I took photos of that usual August 2016 5-page summary I’d written for the (Maryland) state attorney’s office, that was/is supposed to be handling that car-hit, had told me to wait to find out what the new court date would be (traffic court only) and those 4 months had passed so I’d written that summary, that’s in the post below here starting on page 12. I sent those 5 pages by photo so I could include those pictures and a typed explication of what I’d written, some re-typing or whatever of the salient parts that still apply, and then they’d be able to have that tomorrow with the note that that’s just the start on that as I’m learning to work this new camera phone and can make my emails easier that way in — I’m only asking ever for the least possible too. Like just a donation or donation-collection or anything toward the real Universe Rescue if not to me personally, attempt to live, attempt to get out of this “Armageddon Program.” This system is all incorrect, all brain-damaged and lying because the hole in the head was so big that they don’t think they’re lying about anything, don’t know the difference, have real organic or “hardware” situation going on and now that we’re in advanced times we could communicate and get that straightened out and life could proceed but instead I’m invisibly-tortured 24 hours every day so that this global-system can do whatever it’s doing, off of this all these years, and now the simplest things, a picture of a boat, the IRS’s letter, these things are forbidden by anonymous system and as usual someone is crawling all over me both inside and out right this minute, someone here, 2 acts really, and this internal-torture at the same time, they’ve got these goons in the library that year after year do this “Armageddon Program,” and I can’t come in here and work on this blogsite so the internal and external torturers can get whatever they’re getting off of my 24-hour a day life. Twice now they’ve — they had me seated again at this spot next to the copy machine and the same clerk starts doing a scene of “showing” someone how to do something and now for the second time in five minutes there’s change for $5 clinging and clanging and now the turd is doing a scene with a girl that represents making petroleum out of people at one of the other branches, — all this in place of me being able to work on the real subject, — the system is nothing but a bunch of thieves. Brain damage because they forced their way over Beringia and got trapped in snow and the babies got hurt generationally and millennia have gone by and I’ve spent 24+ years trying to figure out what all the problems are and where they came from and I can’t have anything except pain all day long every day, while all these turds carry on.
The Sea Monkeys subject has alot more to it, the specific “girl.” Maybe the first thing is that when I returned to this town after the court date was nothing but to wait for a new court date after re-wording of the summons, I couldn’t get a bed anywhere except out at this Catholic Charities’ “Harriet Tubman” shelter where the DC General Hospital had just closed in 2001 and shelters opened. Now I’ve been trying to look into it and the location has been continuously used as a hospital site back to 1846 and even before that there was something to decades early, like 1804, continuous habitation, “Gallinger Psychopath Wards/Clinic/Hospital” before it was DC General, and the building the Harriet Tubman shelter is in was the DCGH morgue for a long time, that there is nothing about the place that anyone would want to stay there for unless they were as desperate as I am for just an indoor-bed or else what underworld-reasons some of the other people are actually there for. I think I’d stayed there one night and had tried again to find a different bed and couldn’t and came back within that same week or some such and I guess it was a Friday night and there was a visiting church group that they had some music going on and I walked toward the front door and this girl with a face like “the fraud-parent’s” was singing that “Sparrow” song and looking right as me as I walked toward there, that she was standing near the exit and I was walking there and she just looked right in my face and sang this bit about how God’s eyes are on the sparrow so you know that He’s watching oneself too, — I have a bugaboo about not quoting system-people characters, people who aren’t real-life but are scripted, that I don’t want to be drawn into the warp, reality-warp, am afraid of validating the pseudo-reality and none of this had ever happened, don’t want to “play” with the insaneos. She was singing that popular tune right at me like being seranaded by this (stranger) with the fraud-parents face but also there’s the factor that the underworld people have some whole other vocabulary and language-set, the “Dyslexia of Thinking” that had caused me to notice the Sylvian fissure and that that’s actually the big scar from the Prehistoric-age accident-set I keep explaining the system-people came from, etc. When they say the word sparrow they aren’t really thinking about the — I can’t deal with it, because they if I describe that as being a bird they think something weird about the word bird and most words also. When they say sparrow they think that that’s “code” I call it, for spar-row, for fight-argument, to spar and to have a row over something, His eyes are on the argument so I know He’s — and, when they say God they are not talking about the same God that normal people think that that word means, they’re talking about their underworld-system people who sit and ejaculate and these “grown” people become the population and that’s where the “Sea Monkeys” comes in, that those used to be advertised in the old comic books, and maybe still are some places, I’d have to look it up on the “Page-Brin search-engine” first chance. Around the time of the 1962 “French Connection” scam that I had gotten sneak-stuck into I’d been given comic books I guess that carried those ads in the back for things you could send away for, like on the back of cereal cartons and in Bazooka gum wrappers too maybe, — that noise in this library is deafening, that the Armageddon Program is just thriving off of this crap of forcing me to spend my time on this gibberish-level crap. Really, they’re forcing me to make MENU items titled “Dog-dick hole mouth” and “Feces Rules the Earth,” no exaggeration, they’re manipulating my life so that when I sit down I have to complain about what the torture is doing to me in place of being able to accomplish anything proactive about the big world and this throwing away of eternity and leaving the universe stranded empty forever, for nothing. It’s all day long every day garbage-toilet “Program.”
When I saw the girl like singing at me like that and I knew that she was “being coy” about this Armageddon Program, that the whole thing is nothing but garbage and toilet at me and she was selected to be a cast and crew part of it, in on the arguing that all goes on in the underworld about what a piece of shit I am, when I saw her face with that guy’s face-type looking at me and singing that like that it disgusted me and I avoided the girl and I still just try to stay away from her and I do this trying to get the blogsite and my life-support errands and things I have to do done and I can’t do anything about what the hundreds of various cast and crew members are maybe and maybe not all doing, — I’m the most (invisibly- albeit) -tortured person that’s ever lived, it’s all I can do to get through each day, I pay no attention to weirdos or weird goings on or anything that isn’t plain English. These people have been playing about 200 “tricks” on me on average every day since I got here in May 2005 and I don’t know what all was going on the years before that, just that all my days from then till April 2015 were more or less the same of waking up in the shelter and walking to the 9th and G Sts., NW library, so that it was a little easier to notice the pattern of the barrage of tricks as I had basically the same shelter-to-library schedule every day, but I’m a ghost-prisoner and nobody cares what I’m doing I’m only a vehicle for this Armageddon Program of hatred and insult for the LURE, pornography and con-job off of what I’m doing in the libraries, like right now they’re surely doing, plus it’s one of their “holidays” today too. They do a con-job about how nice I am and then when they’ve LURED tourists they turn on (old) hidden camera pornography taken of me that I can only guess about from all the clues toward that effect over the decades, and they LURE and LURE off of that and they (bar the exits) and turn nasty and start the spar-row that I’m not nice, I’m only a piece of garbage, here, look at this pornography, and they get rowdy and the tourist-normal guys get locked in and “disappeared” in I’d guess various ways but that’s been going on since 1964. And that’s when the hamburger fast food industry began to “rise,” no coincidence.
I really dislike this double-spacing for the paragraphs so I don’t like to use them much. I do everything I can to appeal to people to just not cause me any problems, that this is not only too big for me to be able to explain to strangers but also I can’t even give this blogsite URL out to anyone unless it has some specific reason like where I’d given it to medical and then legal and insurance and then I guess it was trying to get assistance from some science groups that would have heard of Florence. I have to sign off — back now. It’s worse too with this email business in that the anonymous “bums” appear to have invaded this blogsite and deleted those mere boat pictures, and a picture off the same tourist board of a map that L’Enfant had made of what they’d intended to set Washington up like or had had at that time and that the Navy Yard was intended to be a Merchants Center, that the Merchants Center became the Navy Yard instead, was all, that someone/something invaded this blogsite to I think that those 4 photos off of it, 3 of the boat picture that I’d thought would be nice for this “holiday,” picture of a painting of a big ship in the water around here, just an old painting-looking picture but I’m not good at the camera yet, can hardly see anything to figure out what all the little icons are so I wind up getting more copies than there should be and figure I can delete the ones that aren’t the best ones that turn out so there were three taken and sent here to look at to choose from of the boat picture and the one of the map, and now there are some weird things about footers and whatnot of something I don’t know what the “widget-type terms” are, but when I go to try to start back in on trying to do anything useful then I’m faced with that spot where the missing pictures were replaced by those files that i don’t know what those words are for or have anything to do with, that I’m all by myself and constantly invaded in these ways and nothing but stranger occurrences around me in this underworld “magic” b.s.
(8/15/17, I finally figured out that the below is from trying to send a Message from the new smart cell phone. Last week it vanished a whole file on me and I feel so bad about that, that I can’t trust the material I put into these computers to not just vanish after all that work. The “Sea Monkey” specific performer-girl problem is worse and the general subject is coming up alot more recently, how people think life can just be “grown” like this, etc.)
Those 6 files are what someone put there instead of the photos I’d sent, including I guess some for this fraud-parent example for this “Sea Monkey” it’s turned out to be titled file, not sure what I was going to call it but I have to try to defend myself against this “wild” — but popular, that when I went to the shelter last night after starting to try to explain this potentially-end of the world really, this potentially-volatile or for me life-ending, the way that girl is making “psychiatric fodder” troubles for me all by myself in a former-morgue in front of the town’s psychiatric holding-place and with the whole jail and all kinds of regular “town” employees there and it’s been like 20 years of this shelter-business, that these girls are destitute and I mean nothing to them and they don’t understand that I’m used as a gimmick first to get them “disappeared” but in the larger picture for getting the Armageddon accomplished, that it’s FOR people underneath the other side of the world, it hasn’t got any benefit for any Westerners, etc. The girl caused this problem by doing that “circling” trick that I always ask it not to do that, and then I went to computer and my emails are gone, that the girls go to some unknown-to-me underworld and try to raise a ruckus about getting rid of me is how the Armageddon Program has been going at least since 2006, that that’s the general daily plot or story line, get the stupid crosseyed girl to MOVE, we can’t stand her for that reason or this reason or whatever, and the little rat made trouble for me finally due to my nerves about this jury-duty summons, that I have to be able to get on the early bus and without any difficulties like she causes, so it’s like it’s her time to shine-perform and she drew blood in trapping me with that circling crap and then yelling through all the girls on line. Then my email quit working and then I evaded her yesterday but last night there was some scene when I tried to enter the shelter (there is always some underworld-orchestrated way to cause me a problem or more on entry so that my shower-time is all “complainy.”) and I commented to the security guard that was doing the bag searches that the girl is a troublemaker for me and the way the guard responded it sounded like the subject had come up during the day, whereas I’ve stayed away from the “little montster” for over a year now and now after all this time the system’s worn me down and I’m like a shark-attack victim. Then today there was a whole new type of a scene to cause disruption while it appears that it’s all me that’s complaining for nothing and I evaded that too but now the email-robbing is infringing on my ability to take care of matters outside of this gutter-toilet level. There is likely a little more to this particular bit but of course the Sea Monkey problem is intrinsic to all what’s wrong with the system, that you can’t just grow people as though we’re Sea Monkeys, that what’s nature supposed to do with the situation, this file would go on into trying to deal with or it would come up eventually if I was allowed to proceed with my own life and trying to get things done in it. But the girl is only going to get worse with this sneak bothering me now that it’s “drawn blood” and then I’ve got this whole “jury” subject that will be all that’s going on in my life for the next 2 weeks, calling in to see if there’s any showing up there in the morning and so far there isn’t, which is peculiar and might be connected to what this “misc.” file was going to wind up being about, that that IRS letter doesn’t sound real and everything about the car-hit seems to be a “hoax” and then I’ve got that whole horror that this lie-system is saying I have a psychiatric label-reality when everything about the system is a lie for covering up that big prehistoric-age hole in the head and the damage and scar that it left. I don’t know how to explain the difference between this system-garbage and reality. It’s like the Autists don’t understand what’s wrong with picking up a baby and bashing its head against a wall and normal people don’t know how to put that into specific-enough words for them to quit doing that yet. One more thing about this girl that’s bothering me that’s sort of connected to that is that the girl not only looks like she might be one of the fraud-parent’s’ “offspring-descendant donations” to the system in exchange for however that works, but, more than just hypothetically it’s possible that the girl could have possibly (I don’t want to have to use the word conceivably!) have been “created” by using an ova of mine. I suspect it’s much easier to get them than we’re told that it is as I’d once read, while looking for the ovary-illustration I use on that 2014 flyer that’d gotten these illness-excuses to hospitalize me started, — I have to go through everything I can find on a subject before picking a picture or writing down about it usually and I might have managed to find a hundred write-ups on the subject in hunting for a good ovary-picture, I’d come across one write-up that put it that as babies we’re born with maybe 3 million little ovae and that they “matriculate” or slough-out or little by little leave the ovary throughout our lives, maybe that that starts around age 8 and is a pretty much continuous losing them little by little till menipause, that that description is nothing like the standard one we get of ovulation and I suspect it’s true and that it’d be common to find eggs in underwear and such ways all along throughout our lives but only the underworld-people know about how to go about getting those. //June 20, I neglected to get to that some sort of coal-tar dye is added to ovae to make them different colors, that that’s a major major system-trick. The #157 post on Hermann Oberth’s “Catechism for Space” book’s formula at the back allegedly for “DNA” I suspect is actually the formula for the colors-making. That DNA business is all or mostly all nonsense I think that comes from lab-doctor Oswald Avery who might have been one of my own bio-ancestors perhaps and stay away from anything having to do with him. I think maybe I’d lost my whole Oswald Avery file but it’s most important to all this, even from the Renaissance his type was active with all kinds of “screwball” works that got us to this TPE-situation. There are many such details I can’t get around to let alone to get them organized here for easier finding, trying to work on everything, but now I’ve just seen that this blogsite isn’t complicated to find on these little cellphones so I can’t stress the warnings enough, really, that these are cliff-pusher people, into the bottomless pit they want everyone except themselves to go, more or less. I’m going to try to make the WARNINGS file more clear as it seems there’s an overload of the system-manipulation everywhere around me.