While Christians were going to Church today, and golfers were conquering holes, Gramps and I were going all-in on the River Card. But, we aren’t gamblers.
Gambler golfers, I’ve seen your Flop houses, so now I’m going to call you at The River card.
Rarely, do I ever show my hand – even in the muck. But today, I’m making an exception. I’m holding the NUTS. All of them – and yours.
Golfers, don’t be gamblers. THIS IS YOUR MESS TO CLEAN UP! Who’s on the Dealer Button?
You share the same waterway that your Flop houses do. And using the excuse “It’s downstream of us, we’re enjoying this pristine environment upstream, why should we care? After all, we’ve paid hefty green fees to someone else” isn’t going to give you a winning hand.
To whom? TO WHOM? Not me, not Gramps. Yet we’re picking up this trash after your flops. And really, why should we?
Do you want to continue chasing little balls around those greens on MY LAND? Then I’m going to need to see your proof of stake. Do you need instruction on how to do that? Learn from Oregon’s Solv-it mission. Behold:
Intermission
I need to say something not angry here, but I’m not particularly inspired at the moment – except this:
The Sue ZOO key: “I don’t think I’ll give them Blue Steele though. Can’t give away the [CIA] shop.”
Zoolander. Nice posing for your PayPal windows. You had me fooled for a minute, and that’s difficult to do nowadays. But your “truth” became lit up when you advocated on Twitter the use of a very French device of medieval blood-letting. Welcome to the 21st century, dude. We don’t use those devices anymore. Why? you may be asking. Just this. Now pay close attention “mystics”.
WE MUST PROTECT THE CHILDREN’S DREAMS AND IMAGINATIONS!!!!!!!!!!
…just as I prayed fervently to St. Michael the Archangel at a berm in front of His Roman Catholic Church some years ago.
Get it? How do you expect to permanently end suffering on this planet when you advocate gore-ish nightmares from the Dark Ages!? We’re in DreamCatcher mode now not nightmare streets mode. You are too far beyond mystic for me Jean-Claud.
And this is the business end of this message – we’ll just get that outa the way first, then we’ll get into the narrative. YOU ARE NOT, NOR ARE ANY OF THOSE IN YOUR LINE WELCOME ON ANY OF MY TRIANONymous LANDS. Not in France, not in Portland, not in Colorado, not in California, not in Las Vegas, not in Arizona, not in Dallas AND CERTAINLY NOT IN SOUTH DAKOTA. Be very careful where you tread now. ..
You called a Blue Steel look, and it’ll find you, Uruk-hai. Latitudinal Squeeze.
STING, the THE Blue Steel (not the inferior CD STEELE dossier. No mas dossier)
Sue McLaughlin is my sister as well as Gramp’s and my Accountant for VANGUARD – a New ZEALander. She’s been missing on Facebook for a while. Why is that Jean-Claud? I need to know, and I suspect you have some answers. We shall see.
Additionally, I have a message for that other pretty and charming Australian whose name I won’t ever say again. Why won’t I say her name? Just this:
“When there are many words, sin is unavoidable, but the one who controls his lips is wise.” Proverbs 10:19
Intermission
Anna Bel Mersch-Ford was a grandmother of limitless unconditional love. Her family immigrated to America from Germany. As I recall there were 10 Mersch children; Anna, Lena, Catherine (married last name Beverly who moved to Spokane WA and shared a 3-13 birthday with me), Josie, Mary, George, John, Frank and the other's names I can't recall. Anna couldn't have children of her own, as she had problems with mis-carriages, so we weren't related directly by blood. When she was about 40s, she and her husband who was my Great Uncle Joseph Ford, adopted my mother Shirley Lee from his sister after losing their first adopted daughter Peggy. Shirley's mother's name was Helen who lived in Montana. Apparently I met Helen when I was very young, though I don't have a clear memory of it. Who was my grandfather? Nobody would ever talk about him or even mention his name. Was this because he was a rapist called Hearst? I wonder, as I meditate on Deadwood - and my "doctored" birth certificate.
Shirley grew up in Denver with her adopted parents and became a ballet dancer in high school (East High Angel? Code name Chantilly Lace?) when she met the Sith Lord incarnated then as Adrian Michael Haskins. Adrian's father looked like Humphrey Bogart, so I've been told, and his mother Margie is the reason for the war on Butter. She somehow legalized the creation of Oleo Ranch's margarine.
Shirley became pregnant with me by Adrian, and as a family we moved into the second floor of an old apartment in Denver - Kearney St. The apartment had a balcony outside the kitchen window which is where we would take our parakeet named IKE out for fresh air. Two hamsters also shared our abode; Mutt and Jeff. I remember being home-schooled early by her with flash cards when I wasn't attending Pre-school at >>Small Fry. (Really, me a Pisces, and him a Fisk, huh)
Adrian was a chess champion and actually played against Bobby Fischer in a Master's Tournament. I was there with him on his shoulders as he walked around. He put his dragon finger up to his lips and told me to "shh". I responded by mirroring him. I was about three.
One day Shirley was caught stealing a bag of groceries, as Adrian felt his chess playing was more important than supporting his family. So Shirley divorced him.
Then on another day, she drove her '40 Ford to an Anunakene's Phillips 66 gas station for a fill-up. That's where she started to get tangled with the SWANK's. Gene Swank was pumping gas (CB handle Gas Pump - "always pumping Ethyl - keys to the Pegasus" - personal: this Rule 34 shit disgusts me). His parents lived in Littleton, CO near Geneva Park. They were originally from Hannibal, MO (the "show me" state). Hiram Russell Swank and EULA Penelope Gomer - Gene's decode: End User License Agreement, a penny and measure of WHEAT (wheat penny license agreement) I suspect that she was also a VRIL - that hair.
So, anyhoo... these two got "married", then the three of us moved to Englewood, CO - Clarkson Street in 1966 - near some Ivy League school named streets; Dartmouth, Yale, Harvard, Cornell et al. Sometime later Gene started calling Shirley a BORG because she constantly had a camera pasted to her face, taking movies and still images of me doing everything I was doing, then taking the film for processing to SKAGGS Drugs. The BORG Queen. Ok, how did he even KNOW about the BORG so many years before the Star Trek series was even broadcast? The only way I can figure, is that he became a valuable asset of ONI - he was a Navy guy.
The next part of the story is a bit sketchy for me as I only have Etheric pieces to put together. My Super Soldiers have given me many clues into this through Theta Group. As I have been able to surmise, DD Eisenhower made some "deals" with off-world reptoids, an 80 year treaty in about 1940 to trade human "meat" suits (skins - Golf reference?) for tech. How was this even possible? I think it's because they also promised him a President's job of the U.S. Corporation - and a Tunnel connecting Grand Junction (Union Pacific Railroad hub) with Glen wood Springs and Denver. Additionally, his offspring would have a microphone to secure his legacy. There were reverberations in Shirley's and my dream states - or should I say nightmare states, but that's ancient history and not worth digging into now, since that Eisenhower "deal" expired on December 21, 2020 in SPITE of the existence of the Eisenhower Tunnel.
All I ever wanted was for everyone to be able to eat brioche and drink living water - and the pressings of >>actual<< grapes. Read on.
The Eisenhower/Johnson Tunnel is closed energetically as I post this. Shipments to and from the DandyLion Field will be halted then metered, measured and mitered to their final destinations.
IKE struck a nerve – I FELT IT, and still do. The Tempest is being aroused, and it won’t fit in a teacup.
Intermission
Tarot by Janinine(spelling intended – you can connect the dots yourself, Yankton). This part is breaking my heart, but I must do it. I’ll recover, as I always do in these situations. Since my first incarnation as a star-configured humanoid – an Elvish one (Galadriel), and including the one known as Jean d’ARK, I have always been a female – as it always shall be. You were wrong about that. So glad I didn’t pay real money for that “reading”. I just shared my Umbrella as compensation (AEGIS), but that’s being removed from you now.
You’ll start releasing my grandmother Anna Bel Mersch-Ford’s essence immediately. She and Lena from Lenora shall be going back to their German family where they belong. You should have accepted my offer of a Medicine Wheel for your new home. Sorry.
My name is Kathryn – and Spirit Who Flies in the Wind.
Hello Moonraker. Proof of LIFE and ETH block 12965000
Commodore April. I chose not to activate my Papal (spelling intended) plastic because I’m brushing my teeth with activated charcoal and washing my dishes with Blue Charcoal. Besides, the fees were too high. Also, I just had a spin cycle on the Moonraker.
Hat colors like shirt colors are a choice. I sat in my tiny condo (which I’m grateful for btw) on a 5 year old $300 ASUS laptop (also grateful for that) thinking about what I would have done had I been one of those lucky ones who got “too many” comps.
This is my thinking process – a thought experiment:
A huge financial institution has just allowed an exploit into their otherwise benevolent and beneficial system.
I’m in the right place at the right time.
As I always do, I would “pay it forward”, because there are others – in my own sphere – who have zero comps, and this causes an imbalance for me resulting in my current non-optimal living/office conditions. Everything and everyone is connected. Mitakuye Oyasin https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitakuye_Oyasin
I’m keeping the comps, passing many of them along to those who need them, then re-investing the remainder for future gain.
End of thought experiment.
I once paid for a used Roadmaster bicycle with money from a wallet I had found on my walkabout. I paid more than she wanted for it because I also gave her one of the first paper hearts I had ever folded origami style, delivered in a gossamer bag. Her name was Jennay(sp?), and she had a PIT Bull which created an instant and persistent heart connection between us. But that bicycle was important to me at the time and so was my walkabout, which on that day was a visit to deliver a medicine wheel to St. Michael the Archangel Roman Catholic church in the LaPRADA area of Dallas. All of this happened because I had kept money I found in a $ETH BOT-kin wallet and didn’t return it. There are other components to this story, but that stuff is too “gray hat” for this discussion.
After I had put the bicycle on the bus that I was taking home, she sent me a text thanking me for the paper heart. I said “you’re welcome” and mentioned that I would love to see her again – which I still do.
ONLY The Hatter gets to decide what color my hats are – and I get to decide what color my shirts are.
Mr. COMP. I invested seven years of my time in Las Vegas, NV which was eight years too many. Allotta comps were paid out to whales from allotta casinos during that time. Are you a gambler? You have gambled with the IRS which is an illegal entity. If you are more aligned with Casino culture, then you should probably be closer to them at their headquarters in the Rings of Saturn. We don’t do sh*t like that here on Earth.
“I’m sorry, i’m sorry, sorry” is what I hear, and my heart goes out to you, but The Auditor said it’s too late. Sorry. Hoʻoponopono
Intermission
Update for clarity
*tears. I'm getting some feedback: "Grandma, you're being too harsh!"
How do you know that, young one? How do you know that the Rings of Saturn aren't an absolutely amazing place where Mr. COMP wouldn't feel more comfortable?
Furthermore as a human I can legitimately add this perspective. Now pay attention children. We all make slips of the tongue and we say things we later regret. It's part of the human experience. But we can easily avoid foolishness like this by asking regularly for higher guidance.
What you accept to be true for YOU at CORE level will eventually bubble up through your words – online and offline. Watch over your heart with all diligence, for from it flow the springs of life.
Mickey Mouse Mafia. I’m taking a big risk here, please don’t disappoint me.
Your well-known alignment with Big Pharma is legendary. If God gave you a cure for cancer – or AMD for example, you have already signaled that you would unequivocally do everything in your power to profit as much as you could with it, without regard to >>actual<< healing. It’s been just about money for you. This is why you have been prevented from receiving gifts like that from Him. Gifts from God are FREE to those whom He has chosen to receive them. Do you think He is pleased with your middle-man parasitism? HE IS NOT!
Nevertheless, there is one – and probably more – amongst your midst who needs a cure for AMD. That cure has been given to one more suitable, one who in spite of attacks by your Big Pharma bullies is faithful in delivering His cure to many in your own neighborhood. And it’s time you PAY him for his good work on your behalf, because you couldn’t or WOULDN’T do it in the way prescribed by your Creator.
Medicine Wheel in progress
I’ve put my prayer bones to the ground – head covered – for you and for that one who needs a cure. And this is my prayer:
I pray that by the time you get the message I’m sending through Gramps, that the cure is still available for her.
I pray that you will call off your Big Pharma Legal Eagle-eyed bullies, so that the one who is providing the cure (John Nicholes) can continue to bless others and do his work – and be PAID for it.
I pray that the Oceans can be restored to health so that they can continue to provide abundant healing modalities like this one. Remember the 4ocean birthday present? Tomorrow is my birthday again – kin 29 Red Electric Moon.
I pray that y’all can come to a point of contrition over your greed and worship of filthy lucre and begin to place your priorities on TRUE wealth and TRUE health moving forward. Was that visit to Graceland profitable?
I pray that you stop attacking me because of my Medicine Wheels.
I’ve washed my hair in Rain water and I’ve washed my hair in Soda Lakes. I can rinse and repeat as many times as is necessary to remove the grimes from your greed over me. Get Kraken.
I am Lakota Medicine Chief Spirit Who Flies in the Wind. Just as I said.
"The union protects and improves Members' wages(1) and (2)conditions."
Ok, that’s all I need to know – as I am not, nor have I ever been a micro-manager, NOR shall I ever be one. The CFMEU union protects and improves Member’s wages first. Why are you protesting? Has your Union not put your benefits of membership in the proper sequence? I’m confused, please enlighten me. Furthermore, it seems to me that your working conditions have been adequately protected by your union until outside forces made inroads to the contrary. Is this your “boss’s” fault? I dunno. I’m not convinced, and you didn’t allow him to speak, so I still don’t know. But, I don’t really want to be convinced. He appears to be doing his job to the best of his ability. He came outside his protection with an Omega phone – something like a cheerleader. So you want a whipping post? Whip yourselves. You’ve allowed this scourge of tyranny into your land. YOU. You are responsible – individually and collectively.
If these union members will stand down against the John boss and listen to what he has to say… ALL OF THEM, then I will pull some AU$ out of my wallet (or my PRADA clutch purse – depending on which is the most expedient) and refund their Union Dues. All or nothing. If they accept, then they are free, but if they accept and get paid, and then create, align or join another union, the money I paid to get them free must be returned to me with interest. Then – and this is the worst part – I’m turning my back on them, and they must be removed to offworld locations where they can be better served.
Speaking to you from Heir’s Rock, are you listening? May all things be known as the light of Mutual Love.
Intermission
Bear Spray (bears pray) Thank you Ruger!
UPDATE (some time later today): I hold ALL the Bear Spray now. If you use it in ways contrary to my wishes (Aussie police, Satan’s love children), there’ll be a BACK ACHA response. You have been warned. Thank you Ruger. I’ve always been a fan of your plinking .22’s – so accurate, so lightweight in my hand – and fun too.
Furthermore… you “bulls” who speak so freely about Bear blood, be aware – the Planet you depend on, along with all who live on her are members of BEAR CLAN. Do your research! Then tread lightly on Her. Be careful with your words, bulls.
Targetted: Mr. I AM PAY. We replaced pig latin with Dog Latin for your sake. Don’t make us regret that. Just because I saved your skin doesn’t mean I want to give you MINE!
You don’t come onto MY LAND and tell me how to be a Plant – or a weed. I’m not rolling in the grass (spelled WIINGUSHK), or taking an adult swim with anyone but the one I’m destined for. He’s not a whore – he’s a whore net. He also a Cleaner Boss. I paid that cleaner some years ago with staples.
No human agency has ANY claim on me/mine or him/his now. Your so-called “God” is dead. Capiche? He died when The Church was disclaimed from Pactum de Singularis Caelum, and Pactum de Singularis Caelum was disclaimed by the church.
SIGINT. You can stop sending signals through that McPee guy please - also his twin brother PAR McPee. You already know how I feel about golf - which from my perspective is nothing more than conquering holes. This is me ignoring both of them. Thank you.
Mr. McPEE. I’m not impressed by any of your cars. My pens are more weildy and my air crafts are more powerful. And Holly Wattle’s husband lost it all at the Water Loo. Hollyweird is so done.
Furthermore, iguanas belong in their natural habitat – NOT in tanks.
Hard core diamond hands. Don’t come into my House and dick-tat to ME how I am to serve YOU in MY House. I threw you out once before for doing that. I’ll only do it once more, then you won’t be returning to it.
Your tenuous situation is becoming moreso by the minute, but I have a solution for you. Gramps has generously offered to pay out of his VANGUARD fund reimbursements for all your rents, mortgage payments (principle and interest), improvements and utilities. He’s such a good guy. You have missed out on so much by refusing to get to know him. He was your S.O.S. (Source of Sources). Buildings K,L and M on the west side of Midway belong to him.
You must leave your keys where I can find them when you leave (and you will leave), because I’d like to live like you do for a while – you know, with laundry facilities that work, a refrigerator that works and makes ICE, an oven that works, and a bathroom that doesn’t make me depressed every time I walk into it.
Additionally, there’s one more critical condition with this offer. You MUST place that yellow and black VAN’s hat at the feet of the Hatter. This is NOT optional. HE has proof of stake – and you do NOT.
The NOT gate
Asset Management is for BEE KEEPERS not shoe makers, and certainly not ZU or Zoo Keepers.
In this Super Cycle (yes, it’s a new Super Cycle) Friday the 13th is lucky and Wednesday the 13th is NOT. Don’t ever threaten my Japanese fans again! I mean it. We’ve jumped over Halloween and gone straight to Thanksgiving.
Please change your name to IAMPAID, or Cleaning will go to the next level beginning with parking space 50.
Intermission
Update 2-5-2024
Parking space 50 has been in cleaning – thank you so much Protector Alliance. I’ve picked up dog shit, trash and another thing there. Hopefully I won’t have to do anything with the Kind melt ice.
Three Fancy older Women in a Navigator SUV
You know it's been said the much can be learned from your dreams. I know this experientially.
Once in a blue moon – and every day, you can see clearly – if you keep your windows clean
Many times throughout the last 7 years, I’ve shared busses with other workers commuting to work on my Rail System. Interaction with them and the DART drivers has given me an education which I had deprived myself of previously, because I confined myself to my cars for too long. I’m very grateful to every one of them – including the smelly ones, the snotty ones, the loud and abusive ones, and the scary ones.
Yesterday, at the end of a very long day, I followed one of these into my Dollar Tree. She signaled that she was ready to move on to a better job, as she had her travel gear with her. So today I’m reminiscing about my interactions with her while we were riding busses together.
He said: “Keep your windows clean.” Then he sent me many window washers and window repair technicians. This one was a washer. She carried her bucket with cleaning tools on the bus with her to the job sites. I wondered about those job sites, who she served and how well she performed. I also thought it was an odd job for such a beautiful woman of such slight build – but we all have our own cross to carry.
I was always glad to see her, as she radiated a deep reverence for God everywhere she carried that bucket. One day though, in a conversation with the bus driver, I had to chime in to correct her on a critical item they were discussing. It was many years ago, and I don’t recall the precise conversation verbatim, but suffice it to say that they both needed to be reminded that the Creation is NOT greater than the Creator. ‘Nuf said.
So now, at the Dollar Tree we met again. We didn’t exchange words verbally, but the mutual love was palpable. She was moving on and saying her “farewells” and I was offering her my “fare thee wells $4x”. She and I were the only ones in the store without a mask.
Department of Transportation. Those who have served my Rail System well who have their bags packed and ready to move up the ladder, yet have had their wages withheld because they refuse to pay income taxes MUST now begin to receive their back-pay along with shift differential and hazard pay, if those are due to them. Additionally, those who want to retire must receive their retirement benefits whether they are of “retirement” age or not. Get crackin’ on that please. It’s not a request – it’s a demand (respectfully). A worker is worth his/her wages. (bibble babble context, verse 4 ONLY as Kol Nidre is abominable to the Creator.)
Buffalo burger, with fresh picked purslane, cheddar, onions, pickles and tomatoes. Yum, Yum!
SunTzu: Do not interfere with an army that is returning home...
...they may be bringing food and drink for a holiday feast. (comment mine)
Thank you Buffalo Soldiers. Welcome home.
Love, White Buffalo Calf Woman, a white squaw
Semper Fi, Semper Paratus. Army? Navy? Airforce? Spaceforce?
Oh, by the way… Dr. Nicole Apelian. Thank you for the inspiration. I picked up this purslane on the streets and byways close to my house today on your recommendation. I collected such an abundant harvest, that I intend to take some of it and plant it in my garden in Portugal. My neighbors already think I’m crazy, so what’s one more reason for them to chit chat about that? If they dare come into my new garden to kill my “weeds” though, they may find themselves excluded from my Table – so there.
Soldiers and Warriors. If y’all can step away from the chess board and take a quarter-turn to the PTSD exit portal, you can find a lovely card table in the ALT Universe where there are only good things to find – including your pensions. Many of you have also served Earth from offworld theaters and that service needs to be compensated for also – are you aware of that? Some of you are.
Don’t leave anything that’s owed to you on the table with the chess board. I’m the grandma who wore the combat boots. It’s my life you were fighting for – not Big Pharma’s opium. And I’m the one with the keys to the Storehouse where all of your treasures are waiting for you. All that’s required of you is that simple quarter-turn. Apologies aren’t going to do it. How can you trust – OR EVEN ACCEPT an apology from one who is capable of doing unforgivable things? And revenge won’t fill the hole in your purple heart.
The Hospital always comes first in the cycles. Then the Storehouse. Consider it.
"To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour." William Blake
Medicine for money | Full Haystack signature exchange | Signature Exchange complete
It happened. The first ever air-drop of a dollar-backed, Bat-led, 3d ETH. There was also a drop in the bit bucket.
Magnetic Moon 14 Year Of The Yellow Electric Seed
Kin 237: Red Electric Earth I activate in order to evolve Bonding synchronicity I seal the matrix of navigation With the electric tone of service I am guided by the power of birth
CID: QmVfq4Dicv17Hdd5MvouXrypZKPHAMTEVMDppnRNw8mcNJ Full Haystack Signature Exchange
Proof of Life, and proof of a LIFE. Congratulations to the recipient of the airdrop. Long life and abundance.
The power of Unlimitedness. (ty Sean, are you using those etheric devices to modify some wiring?)
Intermission
UNCED is still dead
Family DAO’s matter, and the Beaujolais belongs to the Russians – Ringing Cedars of Russia, specifically.
The SWANKS don’t own Geneva Park anymore.
UN. Your diamond hands of Hannibal won’t be helping you anymore. And your Maurice Strong man is gone too. He was a broken Arrow Head.
Nevertheless, we are at The Crossroads. Would you like to dig into why Geneva Park in Littleton, CO was one of the most hotly contested battlegrounds on the Planet? Would you like to know why Geneva Conventions were actually anything but protective and “neutral”? Or would you like to move past it to the mopping up and cleaning up? I’m asking for consensus.
The Lord Bridegroom said: "Stand at the crossroads and look.
Ask for the ancient paths: ‘Where is the good way?’
Then walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls."
And they said "_______________________________________."
And the Bride said: "We can do this. Yes we can."
https://biblehub.com/bsb/jeremiah/6.htm
Context:
In a Lyran Family chat, this convo emerged through many waters:
Make America Christian Again
"The last thing the Controllers want you knowing is the Truth. It's why we have public schools."
Gramp's and my response to MACA: Schools of FISKS watching over Turtle Hospitals. If a specific human cannot achieve a level of evolution transcending the turtle realm, then that specific soul part (Protoi vernacular) must return to the turtle realm until it can. Turtles don't knit and they don't play golf (which is all just conquering holes), also they don't wear hats. If you, as a human, aspire to impose your will over the Creator's plan for His Creation instead of supporting and working with it, then you are unnecessary to Him.
Here's the pivotal question: Are you teachable? Turtles are, and if you aren't teachable as a human, then your essence should probably join the turtle realms where you can learn teachability from other turtles. https://youtu.be/pyuTu6g2ieA
To those formerly known as “Controllers”: You pretended to respect our freedom and we pretended to be controlled by you. But the masquerade is almost over. When you take off your mask, what will you find in the trick-or-treat bag you hold? If you failed the Gullibility test, was it because you were gullible? Was it because you were actually the one being controlled? Or was it because you weren’t gullible at all? It all comes out on Wash Day (pronounced in Lakota tongue like this: WASH-TAY, and spelled like this: Wiconi Waste).
Topside 