#i built a house in a new area thousands of blocks away from my original spawn
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a couple of youtubers i subscribe to have been playing minecraft recently, either in a "ive never played mc but ill give it a shot" or a "i havent played minecraft since horses were added" way, and watching them has really made me realize how much ive just been min-maxing minecraft lately. like ive been doing some fun stuff, but its mostly extremely large projects that take hours of farming that isnt really fun for me. watching other people just play the game slowly and have fun inspired me to try and go back to experiencing the game that way, and it is so much more fun than what i've been doing.
does anyone else play minecraft in a 'i maximized my space for efficiency and then blanked on what else to do' style or am i just playing the game wrong
#i built a house in a new area thousands of blocks away from my original spawn#and actually took the time to make it pretty instead of just being like 'ah theres enough room for a bed and some functional blocks'#i think ive solved my problem of being bored in minecraft after beating it and its that i only ever do big time consuming projects or#the absolute bare minimum to maximize efficiency#and never try to just. be like oh let me build a little thing for decoration with random blocks. hehe#simon says
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I said I wouldn’t do it, but here I am, posting another chapter of Generations!
Please understand that this draft is, while scanned for typos and basic coherency, a genuine “rough” draft - what a block sketch is to the final painting.
If you’re enjoying these and want more, please also know that I am putty in the hands of praise and feedback.
(Chapter One here.)
Chapter Two
Meadowlark Farm stretched across four sections in central Kansas, more than two thousand acres of plains, rolling hills, riverbanks, stubborn cottonwoods, irregular ponds, and the occasional dense stands of timber. The old family farmhouse stood close to the middle of the property, near what had once been a river but was now a seasonal creek, in a particularly fine grove of cottonwoods. In high summer, the waxy leaves shimmered wildly in the slightest breeze, like a flock of dragonflies or a shoal of fleeing fish.
The house itself rested against a little rise in the land, looking out sedately over the fields, with one basement corner, the original cellar, built into the hill. Two ancient limestone fenceposts still marked the end of the patchy gravel driveway, half taken over by dandelions. Huge clumps of pampas grass marked the rutted drive. The house rested easily in the shade of tall elms and cottonwoods. Part of the original limestone foundation remained, ringing three corners of the original square ground floor. Seen from the side, where the driveway ended in a field of stubby buffalo grass, it looked regular enough, a typical nineteenth and twentieth century farmhouse in peeling white paint. Walking around the curving front porch revealed an extra wing, built on at a diagonal angle, which stuck out like an injured bird testing the wind with its good wing. The attic, a huge airy room above the original second floor, winked back at the sun with many small square windows.
Back of the house, in the triangle between the west-facing end of the house the northward-thrusting angle of thew the new wing - over a hundred years old and still it remained, in family parlance, "the new wing" - a little kitchen garden grew half-wild. Wide, smooth stepping stones marked the short path from screen door to the little plot.
Beyond the new wing, in the true backyard, children's playground equipment dotted the slope. Mismatched swings hanging from chains and ropes attached to rusting A-frames and weathered wooden beams swung gently in the perpetual Kansas breezes. Slides and monkey bars glinted in the hot sun. Chickenwire separated the play area from an enormous rectangular garden, already overflowing with produce, heavily over-planted, and exuding fragrant herb smells with every gusty breeze. The land ran down a gentle hill towards a dense growth of timber and a long, enormous pond.
Not too near the pond, several mismatched outbuildings hunched in what could not quite be called a cluster. Like a crowd trying to pretend it is not a crowd, each person too embarrassed to stand too close to anyone else, they held a swath of ground to themselves. A huge, two story barn with its paint long gone, worn to a brownish grey. A nearly shiny Morton building, not quite new but startlingly contemporary. A hay shelter, with rusted slanted roof. A skeleton barn, with just a few peeling boards left here and there, it's empty roof frame stretching over antique machinery. And a solid, unremarkable little shed, red boards dulled to maroon, covered in a patched roof of mismatched shingles topped with an enormous handmade antenna. The double front doors stood ajar and a solid-looking padlock hung from the wide-open latch, hanging casually open.
Beyond the swings, the big garden, the outbuildings, and the pond, the land fell sharply away to a creek bed. It was low in this high, dry summer, and nearly still. The banks, crumbled where the grass gave way to clay, ran with little wavering along the crease where hill met plain, until they met the little woods to the east. Cropland stretched out beyond the creek to the north. Near the trees, but enough to be shaded by them except in earliest morning, just on the north side of the river, lay the old family burial ground.
It had not always been meticulously tended, but in Leah's lifetime the oldest headstones had been somewhat restored, the most egregious weeds removed, and this summer, even the grass had been recently mowed.
Anna-Lucia knelt at her mother's headstone. Martha Addison, beloved wife, mother, sister. May 8 2005 - August 15, 2070. RIP Et Lux perpetua luceat eia.
The thick granite headstone with its neatly cut, clear letters stood in line with several others, some so weathered and faded as to be hardly legible. After a moment, hand resting on the sun-hot granite, Anna-Lucia sat down and crossed her legs, shoulders slumped, hands folded in her lap. A few brown rosary beads hung between her fingers, but her mind had drifted into wind and dappled light and the hum of insects and the sound the tall grass made bowing again and again to itself in the gentle, incessant breeze. Time passed but she did not know it. Then -
"Here you are!"
Anna-Lucia started badly as a sun-blind silhouette loomed over and dropped down suddenly, throwing two strong arms around her shoulders.
Dazed from the bright light and her unintentional reverie, it took Anna-Lucia several stunned seconds to process the small hands with many rings, the flyaway, unevenly cut dark blonde curls, the lavender perfume.
"Liza!" she gasped out at last, returning the hug.
In the sixteen months since she had seen her sister, Liza's choppy curls had grown irregularly long. Her wiry arms were sun browned and stronger than ever.
"Oh, I have missed you, little sister," Liza sighed affectionately, giving her one last squeeze and sitting back, stretching out like a cat on the warm prickly grass. It was an old joke between them; Liza, the eldest, was as petite and youthful as their mother had been; Anna-Lucia had her father's bigger bones and had nearly always been mistaken as the oldest.
Trying to shake off the sun-daze and afternoon grogginess, Anna-Lucia found she had no words - just a huge, cheek-splitting grin, and a few irrepresible tears in the corner of her eyes. She gripped Liza's shoulder and squeezed. Liza smiled back, but her eyes were tired and new care lines were etched there.
"You didn't tell me you were coming," Anna-Lucia said at last, when the silence had stretched so long it began almost to feel like another dream.
"No one knew. Not even me, until forty-eight hours ago. I fully expected to miss this year's reunion and be stuck on the beat 'til Christmas."
"Lots to report in Rome?"
"I've hardly been there - they send me all over the EU. That's the great thing about this job. Catholicity is a small operation with big dreams. I'm really the only full-time culture reporter they've got, so I have my pick of assignments. There's enough for three of me and three Giovannis besides."
"I still can't believe they get away that name."
Liza grinned wickedly. "Oh it's caused a few misunderstandings, but the reporter credentials, and the kinds of bylines I'm racking up, set them straight pretty fast."
"I hardly know anything about your job - you've sent three letters, Liza. Three, in a year and a half."
"Sixteen months, thank you very much." Liza hesitated. "It's - changing, over there. Letters aren't as... in vogue as they used to be."
Anna-Lucia looked at her sharply. "You're joking." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, pushing away the lingering brain fog and reminding herself she was still not certain what privacy remained at home. Take nothing for granted. "I mean, nothing's more fashionable than retro, right? Where would the elite be if not at the height of fashion?"
Liza shrugged, an airy show of unconcern belied by the downturned corners of her mouth, as she reached into her bag, tossed carelessly on the ground next to her. "Whatever fires their rockets, I guess. It's pages, now. Personal pages to orally deliver messages."
Anna-Lucia felt inside, somewhere, that this was more important than she grasped, than her sister let on, but the sun had been slowly cooking her for more than an hour and Liza was pulling out of her carelessly dropped bag a thick wad of cream-colored envelopes addressed in a trailing scrawl she knew very well.
Her heart leapt. "You saw him!"
Liza shook her head, and she was pale under her tan. "These came through the postal service."
Not, Anna-Lucia registered distantly, the post office.
"That's how I found you out here, actually. I got in not twenty minutes ago and went in looking for Dad, and Grandma immediately sent me out here." Her eyes conveyed that Leah had warned her, too, they could not speak completely freely in the house. "These are all addressed to him."
Anna-Lucia stared at her. "Just to Dad? Not even one for me? Or you?"
"I tried to tell you." Liza held out the letters. "Check the dates." Swiftly, Anna-Lucia tugged the rubber bands off the thick stack and they uncompressed in her hands, spilling over her lap. Each was labeled, F1sh, followed by a string of numbers she recognized as an encoding of month, year, and - something she couldn't decipher. Location, probably.
"A year ago? The most recent one is twelve months old?"
"One's only seven."
"You've read them?"
Liza frowned at her. "I take my job seriously, Anna-Lucia."
"I'm sorry. Stupid question." Mechanically, Anna-Lucia gathered the letters back up and rebound them. "So you've had no news."
Liza just looked at her.
Understanding began to dawn, and Anna-Lucia did not like it. "That's why you came home."
"We need Uncle Kevin's address book."
"No news at all? Seven months and nothing? Not a single person knows where he is or what happened to him?"
"Will you help me find Dad?" Liza pleaded, glancing down at her watch, a slim, chic, old fashioned ladies' analog. "He needed these... yesterday."
Anna-Lucia felt as unmovable as the headstones beside her.
"Please, Anna-Lucia. I don't... I can't tell him alone."
Liza stood and held out a hand. Anna-Lucia grasped it and was hauled to her feet, stiff, half-asleep limbs complaining and uncooperative. She heaved a deep breath, involuntarily, as if she'd been swimming underwater. Their little brother had been missing for at least seven months, and no one had heard a thing.
"Dad's in the new shed."
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Thoughts: New Orleans (Part V)
It was day three in New Orleans, and once again we woke up early for breakfast. We found out that there was a location of Daisy Duke’s in the CBD that was even closer to our hotel so we went there. I decided to just go ahead and get breakfast this time…..with a side of crawfish hushpuppies. I have to say, I actually liked this location of Duke’s better. The service was quicker, the prices were slightly cheaper (might have something to do with how the other location is in the more touristy French Quarter) and the sweet tea was even better. Oh, and they offered crawfish hushpuppies here while the other location didn’t. And yes they were delicious.
After we finished, my mom went back to the room while I took a little morning stroll, exploring the CBD some more before I decided to give PJ’s Coffee on Canal a try. PJ’s Coffee is the ubiquitous coffeehouse in New Orleans (I literally only saw two Starbucks the entire time I was there), and after trying their product I can easily see why. Remember when I said in the Mini-Guide how their blended Granita drinks are like Frappuccinos but better? Well, they are. They’re smoother, sweeter, and likely made with better quality coffee beans (I mean, New Orleans is a port city so I imagine they’d have pretty easy access to a number of things, including coffee beans). So yes, if you visit New Orleans and see a PJ’s Coffee (and you definitely will), be sure to stop by and give them a try.
Going back to the room to chill for a minute, we then set off to the National WWII Museum. We used the St. Charles Streetcar to get there, and I must say, riding this one was a much more pleasant experience than any of our rides on the Canal or Riverwalk streetcars. Although it can still get crowded, this line is rarely ever standing-room only. Unlike Canal, it also has windows that open, which is surprisingly a very effective means of keeping things cool on board (the Riverwalk line has windows that open too, but that line is usually packed with people and, thanks to the resulting heat attracted to human bodies, an open window is not very effective). It felt nice being able to easily grab window seats without having to worry about having to push through people upon reaching our stop.
Down St. Charles Avenue, through the CBD and Warehouse District, we got off at Lee Circle which was, almost appropriately, right next door to the Civil War Museum and a block away from the National WWII Museum. Why am I saying it was appropriate? Because Lee Circle is named after Robert E. Lee; you know, the Confederate general?
Yeah, modern New Orleans may be a fairly liberal, morally loose and open-minded place, but it’s still the South. There’s going to be reminders of the antebellum and Jim Crow eras all over the place, and that includes public “memorials” to the Confederacy. Ugh. Thankfully, last year the local government decided to remove the statue of Lee that sat atop the pillar pictured above. As they should, because reminders of the more shameful parts of American history such as that need to be in museums, not shamelessly displayed in public (now what they need to do is change the name back to Tivoli Circle or something but I guess that’s none of my business).
Speaking of museums, the National WWII Museum is great……if you’re into the topic. I don’t know if it’s because I learned all about it in school (I remember having one history teacher in high school who was particularly passionate about this era for some reason so I already feel like I studied it to death) or what, but it just didn’t do much for me. Aside from the exhibit about servicemen of color in the War, the Japanese internment exhibit, an infographic which detailed the threat of Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy and the Japanese Empire and the C-47 hanging in the lobby, nothing about the museum really caught my attention. I honestly feel like it was just too small as my mom and I were in and out of there in less than thirty minutes, which is weird when considering how highly regarded the museum is (I’m also VERY happy we got in with the power pass as the admission price is WAY too high at face for what you get in my opinion). It’s a shame the Civil War Museum next door wasn’t included in the Power Pass as I always found the Civil War more interesting than World War II to be honest.
Once we were done, we hopped back on the streetcar to Canal and from there made our way to Jackson Square once more. We first stopped inside the PJ’s for a moment to enjoy frozen lemonades and air conditioning. You’d think we would have an easier time getting used to this weather, seeing that our family originates out of Alabama and Mississippi in addition to being the sort of climate our ancestors were forced to do unpaid labor in for hundreds of years but I digress. Upon cooling down, we stopped to listen to the live brass band for a few minutes before heading into The Cabildo.
The Cabildo is one of two twin buildings which flank the St. Louis Cathedral. Originally serving municipal purposes, the two of them as well as the 1850 House have been repurposed into outposts of the Louisiana State Museum. The Cabildo in particular once operated as the city hall, in addition to being the site where the Louisiana Purchase commenced, but it now hosts an exhibit about Louisiana’s history; spanning from its settlement by the French in the 1600’s to the Reconstruction era. Now, it was fairly interesting and all, with paintings, artifacts and templates about the battle of New Orleans, the region’s indigenous peoples, the differences between French and Spanish colonial rule/policy, West African slaves and free people of color, the Louisiana Purchase and the area’s history with pirates, but overall, I didn’t find it as captivating as The Presbytere.
On the other side of the Cathedral, this not-quite identical building (if you pay close attention, you’ll notice it’s painted in a lighter color and has a flatter, more squared-off roof than the Cabildo /architecture nerd) was originally a courthouse, but now serves as a museum for Mardi Gras, Napoleon’s death mask…………and Hurricane Katrina.
I can remember the news reports like it was yesterday. Having been under the impression that hurricanes were just a Florida thing or something, needless to say, I was scratching my head in confusion at the whole ordeal. My fourteen year-old brain was struggling to comprehend how a hurricane could both reach and do that much damage to somewhere so far inland from a coast (I managed to figure it out a few science classes later), but I still just shrugged it off and thought “oh, they’ll be fine, Florida gets through it every time!” However, upon seeing video footage of vast swaths of houses underwater along with thousands of people crowding into the Superdome, that’s when the severity of the situation hit me.
Even more upsetting was how horribly the situation was handled. People were without food and water for DAYS after the storm made landfall (something we’re seeing a repeat of with Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico basically). It definitely should not have taken nearly a week for FEMA to show up. Then again……the overall catastrophe had more to do with the failure of the area’s levee and floodwall system than it did with the storm itself. I have to ask, why were they in such bad shape in the first place? Many theories and conspiracies still abound to this day, but either way, what happened was a tragic mess that could have been avoided in so many ways.
There were a number of pictures on display of the aftermath, as well as video footage of the day the storm made landfall, and it all felt so……..eerie. Sad, but eerie. To think this eerily deserted city, under siege by a raging, violent storm, is the same vibrant, energetic place that we had been walking around in for the past several days. I almost had to look out the door just to make sure everything was alright; even though, in a lot of ways, things aren’t totally alright (…….a whole thirteen years later). Houses and buildings devastated by Katrina can still be spotted all over the city, and although I didn’t go see it for myself, it’s been said that the Lower Ninth Ward (arguably the most devastated neighborhood of all) has more or less been deemed a lost cause and they gave up on rebuilding a long time ago. New Orleans has definitely rebounded, but it’s still heartbreaking to see so many lingering signs of this catastrophe.
After finishing the Katrina exhibit, we walked through a hall that featured tidbits about Hurricane Betsy, another devastating hurricane that took place back in 1965 (although still not as bad as Katrina) before walking past the random sight of Napoleon’s death mask and upstairs to the Mardi Gras exhibit. Granted, it was more or less a retread of Mardi Gras World, aside from focusing less on floats and more on the history of the various krewes, the “throws” (beads, doubloons and the like) and costume design. It was still a lot of fun none the less. Alas, the clock was ticking, and we wanted to cram one more thing in before embarking on our cruise, so it was off to the lower Pontalba building for the 1850 House.
The Pontalba buildings are two, four-story, red-brick twin buildings which flank Jackson Square. Built in the 1840’s by an accomplished businesswoman known as Micaela Pontalba, they were originally designed as Parisian-style luxury rowhomes, with high-end retail and dining establishments being housed on the first floor. Having fallen into disrepair by the 1930’s, they were then extensively repurposed into apartments, which are still in use to this day. The portion now known as the 1850 House remained untouched, however, instead being used by the Louisiana State Museum as a time capsule exhibit. Within, you’ll be given a glimpse into the lives of middle-class New Orleanians in the 1800’s.
Through a small courtyard, and up a rickety and old-fashioned spiral staircase, you’ll be greeted to a template which provides some information about past occupants of the row home which leads to the parlor and dining room. Granted, each room is protected by a glass railing, likely to prevent damage to the various antiques as it is a self-guided tour after all. Basically, all you can really do is look on at the rooms and their vintage furnishings from the hallway. On the third floor, you’ll find the bedrooms and the nursery and going from there (the layout of the place was pretty confusing so I’m not sure what direction we were going in at this point), you’ll see an exterior room which served as the slave and/or servant quarters until you reach the kitchen and storage room at the base of the house. Now, I’m a vintage/antique nerd, so I enjoyed it, but it probably would have been just a bit more enjoyable if they offered a guided tour, thus allowing you to explore the rooms in detail.
Oh wait, what time is it? Oh, time for the Creole Queen Paddlewheel Cruise! We hopped on the Riverwalk line of the streetcar once more and took it to Spanish Plaza (a monument to Spain’s colonial legacy in the area) which is where the boat was docked. The Creole Queen is one of a number of paddlewheel boats in New Orleans which offer old-fashioned river cruises. Once you hop aboard, you’ll be treated to stunning views of the city and the river (provided you can ignore its gross and oily brown hue) while the guide gives you a little history lesson. Granted, most of the stuff he was saying I already found out from the other tour guides and museums I went to, but it was still enjoyable nonetheless. As I looked around and took pictures of the CBD skyline, Jackson Square from afar, Algiers, the New Orleans port, the old Domino sugar factory, the plantations in the distance and even more Hurricane Katrina ruins, we came to a stop at the Chalmette Battlefield and National Cemetery; the site of the Battle of New Orleans in 1815.
We got off the boat and walked towards an old (creepy-looking and probably haunted) plantation home known as the Malus-Beauregard House, where a man dressed in 19th-century military regalia waited for us. From there, he walked us to this spot underneath a very large oak tree, next to a small bayou, where he began to talk about the Battle of New Orleans. And honestly? I don’t know if it was the story itself or if this particular guide was just boring, but he wasn’t able to hold my attention. It was also hot AF and there were mosquitoes and dragonflies swarming all over the place, so I just took a few pictures of the battlefield and the house before making my way back to the air-conditioned, bug free boat; savoring some bread pudding while waiting things out.
Upon arriving back in New Orleans, we rushed over to Audubon Aquarium, seeking to cram in one more attraction before resting up for our ghost tour in the French Quarter. You better leave the lights on for this one.
#new orleans#louisiana#southern u.s.#u.s. gulf coast#national wwii museum#lee circle#french quarter#the cabildo#the presbytere#pontalba buildings#chalmette battlefield#malus-beauregard house#battle of new orleans#paddlewheel cruise#hurricane katrina#mardi gras#mississippi river
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February 20, 2021: 10:02 am:
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https://twitter.com/Pontifex/status/1363118708755947521
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iypUpv9xelg
youtube
The Bergoglio Tweet is about a takeover attack at a hospital.
I was at Fred Meyer store the day when one group of terror army cells rushed the store, and took over the store, which was being operated by a different opposing group of terror cells at the time of the take over.
At the Fred Meyer in Grants Pass Oregon, the place had been operated by a religious cult, the Cannibal SDA up to around 1998. That day I was there, a different, but similar group of people came in the front door waving their arms around, about fifty people rushed the store, small groups branched off in all directions. I heard one woman say: “I’m taking pharmacy”, another man said: “I’m taking the gun counter”, someone else said: “I’m taking the toy department” as they all ran past me in what looked like a feeding frenzy of activity.
That blonde woman later became known as “Pharmacy Blonde” and remained working in the pharmacy for about fifteen years, maybe more. She is no longer there, as she is one of the assassins that have come to my house to kill me over the course of time, and was killed here at my home in defense. Most of that Fred Meyer Pharmacy take over group has been killed at my home in defense. One of them, a woman by the name of “Pharmacy Tech Debbie” attacked and took possession of the property at 315 Jackpine about one year after that home was built. It gets too complicated and personal from there, so, back to the Pope Tweet:
That Tweet is describing that a group of people are to rush a hospital, to take over the hospital.
Maybe a whole bunch of hospitals, all of the Tweets on Twitter are old, so, that one could be among the original Vatican orders to take over hospitals.
Don‘t forget that in Oregon, the Corona Virus on Beta Twitter already happened in 2008. The entire Oregon population was killed and replaced with Canadians as a result.
One of the results of the aftermath of the Beta Twitter role out of Corona Virus in Oregon, in Grants Pass, is that the local hospital on Washington Ave, had been serving the area for a long time, was also hijacked, and the result of that, is that the new Asante Three Rivers Medical Center at 500 SW Ramsey Ave was constructed. The place was built by terrorists, for terrorists to use as needed, in 2001.
There is an old hospital on Dimmick Ave. That place turned into some kind of wicked trap, where if a patient was told to go there, it was said to be a “Biblical Experience” at the Dimmick Hospital. I don‘t know exactly what that means, but there is a county services office building next to the Dimmick Hospital where people in need can go for some particular county offered aid of some kind, and there came a time when I went there for the help that was said to have been offered. All I remember about my visit to that county aid building visit is there were people on the front steps, killing everyone who went in there with swords.
I did not go in, just observed from the sidewalk and left after seeing that. I went back on a different day, watched from my car, to see if it was safe to go inside. I did go inside that day, but the killing had just moved indoors, so I left in a hurry and didn‘t go back there any more.
The Pope Tweet is bad news.
Other cities in other states will be attacked by innocent looking church goer army’s as a result of the Pope, Twitter and Google.
Google is The Vatican‘s Clerk.
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10:53 am:
Why is this happening?
Why is there a green block-out of information?
First impression: When Twitter suspends a persons Twitter account, the very first thing they do, within the first hour of suspension, is remove all of the photos that were posted in all of the tweets at the suspended account. The result of the deleted photos leaves a green, or blue, or red, or orange, or other color of a blank place holder where the photo once was presented. Looks the same as those green place holders I am seeing at POTUS and at that one BBC video. I don’t have a conclusion, just the observation relationship between what I see there and what happens when an account is suspended on Twitter.
https://twitter.com/BBCNews
https://twitter.com/POTUS
See, this is what my account looks like. It was suspended a long time ago. I can still read the “news”, but am longer permitted to make any new tweets, been suspended a long time, on three accounts in the past couple of years, and others when it was Beta Twitter, when they suspended me for trying to get help to stop terror mass murders in Oregon back in around 2008. They did the same thing back then too, removed the photos, and preserved the written text parts of the tweets I had made.
About thirteen or fourteen-thousand Tweets were suspended on two different accounts for a total of somewhere around thirty-thousand suspended and partially deleted documentations of terrorism, photos all dismantled from the tweets. All of the tweets are there to say something about the terrorism, to say eye-witness information, and to teach others how to read the coded information that is hidden within the news stories presented on Twitter from “Verified Accounts”.
There is nothing real about any of the news stories presented on Twitter by major media network and media personalities from so called “Verified Accounts”, all of them are fake, each one is either marching orders, or update for terror soldiers made to inform them, or are for distraction, detour, road block confusion services for making the terror difficult to detect, and to steer federal investigators into traps where they are killed and replaced with terror operatives.
My suspended accounts are as real as if gets.
Twitter kicked me out when I requested that they help to contact US national security and US Military, and just direct those people to my account is all asked them to do.
Twitter is covering up all of the videos with green place holders. Today, they are leaving the photos stay visible from tweets made by media news and government, but covering the videos. This has happened before, is not the first time, it’s some kind of major announcement made to Twitter based terror operatives globally in the form of a “Green-Out”.
I smell problems at Green Jello HQ at Universal Studios.
nbc/comcast terror HQ is having a “Bad Day at Black Rock”.
https://twitter.com/CNN/status/1363202030500794372
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11:17 am:
Ok, the video’s all work after a restart and a scan with Hijacked Norton security software.
The YouTube videos worked without any problems, only videos presented on Twitter were affected by the glitch. I suspect it’s a controlled environment sort of special glitch.
If so, it’s beyond my skill set to know what is going on with that.
See, now they work:
https://twitter.com/POTUS
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11:50 am:
Other:
Tennessee is Trending on Twitter.
That cannot be good.
This story comes up. A story about a man found in Tennessee by virtue of a post card found on a sunken ship and was sent back to Germany from Tennessee to continue to receive his pension at age 95.
First impression is to see a similar story that was presented twice, once on Beta Twitter in around 2008 and again on current Twitter about two years ago when a nazi guard was said to have been living on a “compound” in new york.
My suggestion to nsa is to do a English/German translation on the word “Walmart” and see where that leads to.
Then:
95 + 5 = 100
The “5″ is $5.
$5 is the price paid at a Walmart service counter to SDA terror soldiers who bring a human head of a US Citizen to the service counter. A shopping cart filled with heads is worth about $200 at the service counter at Walmart.
The shopping carts were lined up, filled with human heads at the Walmart service counter in the early parts of the 2000′s after the turn of the century.
A “concentration camp” is mentioned in the tweet, that is more Walmart terror. The “concentration” is the remainder of he US Citizens killed at the Walmart after their heads are removed, the body. The “Concentration” is the same stuff I have already explained enough about, is called “V-8″. The people are put into a giant blender and turned into a liquid, ground into pulp, water is added, seeds are added. After that, the product is called “Red Hydroseed” after water and seeds are added to the V-8, and is sprayed onto roadsides as “Erosion Abatement” by Oregon Department of Transportation Contractors. The state pays the contractors to spray the hillsides with seeded remains of US Citizens, to help to make sure that the roads won‘t wash away in the rainy season.
Is there something that is not clear about that explanation?
“Concentration” = “Red Hydroseed” = “V-8″ + water + seeds = Erosion Abatement = Dead Murdered US Citizen Walmart Shoppers = Profit
Each of the $5 heads is matched with the identification of the victim. The heads and drivers licenses are matched, so that a look-a-like can be summoned from Canada to take the individual’s place of each murdered US Citizen at the Walmart and everywhere, this is not limited to Walmart, is state wide at all stores, all recreational destinations, all county offices where people need to go, all hospitals, and every other place where people gather, including their own homes. The head is removed, taken to Walmart, exchanged for $5, along with the victims Identification drivers license, and the Birth Certificates are highly sought after, could be worth extra. With the birth certificate, other terror ID processing can be done at the DMV, and remain all legitimate in appearance as time goes on, and are valuable that way.
Once the heads are matched to the drivers license, then Nancy Sinatra as President of Screen Actor Guild, is able to arrange “Casting” services. There is a DMV data base that contains all of the necessary information about the height, weight, age, gender, eye & hair color and more of each victim, and is the reason that the victims head is worth $5 at the Walmart service counter. That data base at US DMV is matched and cross-referenced to the same kind of data base in Canada, and makes Nancy Sinatra’s job a simple one for finding suitable replacement citizens.
The Canadian replacements are summoned to take residence in the homes of the victims.
Nancy Sinatra instructs each replacement about which candidate they are to vote for on the voting ballots.
The outcome of all of the elections is known ahead of time. The candidates are all shills put there on the ballots by Nancy Sinatra at SAG HQ.
The winner of the elections is known in advance of the printing of the ballots. All of the contested offices from City Water Master, to Parks & Recreation Director, to City Mayor, to County Sheriff, to State Governor, to State Representatives, to Senators, to US President, is all worked out ahead of the printing of the ballots they are candidate selections on.
The outcome is arranged many years ahead of time at Nancy Sinatra SAG HQ.
All they need to do, is make sure that the Canadian replacement citizens vote the way they are told to vote. That way, when anyone questions why everything is so fucked up in USA, those people who ask questions about having been fucked too many times, are directed into the controlled environment at “Hanging Chad HQ” where everyone points at the vote count, and endless hours are spent recounting the ballots.
Each ballot is correct every time, unless they need a distractive measure to make confusion service. Such instances help to make sure that the planned winner of an election, who may not have been placed as planned, will ultimately be the winner after a recount is done. Every once in while, the voting has to show that some degree of corruption took place, otherwise investigative people will see that the system is rigged, so, the bastards even pre-plan that there will be very rare instances of corrupted vote discrepancy, and in doing so, they manage to get the SAG shill into office that way when the usual route is not working as planned.
The usual route almost always works as planned.
There is almost never a problem with the vote count.
The problem is that all of the voters are fake, but no one has ever questioned the integrity of the voting base, they only question the number of votes cast.
============
One more time:
“The problem is that all of the voters are fake, but no one has ever questioned the integrity of the voting base, they only question the number of votes cast.”
============
https://twitter.com/DefenseBaron/status/1363127341791199233
100 = One US Citizen Voter
5 = One Head of One US Voter
95 = the Body of One US Voter
100 - 5 = One Head Removed from One US Voting Citizen Over Age 18 = The Victims Body = Evidence = 95
V-8 = Destruction of Evidence
Bonus Extra Credit Math Problem:
18 - n = One US Citizen who is not old enough to Vote = One kidnapped US Citizen Child = One Trained Disposable Terror Soldier = One Captive Victim Child
n = a real number range between 18 and 1.
================================
12:57 pm:
One of the problems I have faced with reporting this kind of real terrorism, is that when the report is received by the authority figures who have the resources and training required for the kind of response needed to stop the terrorism, they don‘t see that this kind of terrorism has been underway, undetected for more than fifty years in USA.
They see the “Emergency”.
They respond in knee jerk fashion.
no one reads the details.
They think they know everything there is to know about terrorism, and fail to see that the terror has been already happening under their noses for fifty years.
They are unable to process the reality, that what is being reported has been going on under their watchful eyes as national Security personnel.
That is a recipe for more failure.
neglect of the details will ultimately lead to the demise of USA.
The dismantling of USA is going to lead to the loss of Freedom on a global level. Only select people will be free, while everyone else will be slaves, surgically altered and raised in slave schools where the victims are born into slavery, physically changed and taught that they are not human beings, but are a different species of animal, one that “God put on earth to serve the Master Race”. That is the ultimate use of the “British Still Education Tactic”.
The “Master Race” is Screen Actor Guild Members, and what I described is real, is the ultimate goal of “Global Domination Under The Cross”.
I had a seat at the table where these plans were developed. The Windsor Family had a seat also, so did Ann & Nancy Wilson and the members of Pink Floyd.
Many others had a seat. You can read this account to learn more about that.
Global population in total will be reduced to 500,000 SAG Members.
Everyone else will be exterminated like bugs in a jar sprayed with Raid, but they prefer Black Flag.
Look around at the condition the world is in with regard to the quality of the leadership we are experiencing in the visible arena. Those people are all puppets. The real leaders are enjoying the coral sands on the Island of Kauai, calling the shots from the safety of the island, where they are safe from unexpected surprise visitors, and their celebrity status provides excuse for them to be there in event surprises do show up on their RADAR.
============================================
1:45 pm:
Same Guy?
This is Greg Koch of Wildwood Guitars, he is the man I purchased my Gibson Flying V from online at Wildwood Guitars in Colorado.
Wildwood Guitars sells premium grade musical instruments only. They are a premier Gibson Dealership.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7GCWk9SSU3s&feature=youtu.be
youtube
This is Micheal Robinson of Eastwood Guitars:
Eastwood Guitars is a Canadian Front for terrorism, has a base at Hugo Hitching Post General Store in Hugo Oregon, and some of those people are the same people who held me and my family captive in 1998 - 2002 or so, and are the people who forced me to make the designs that were put onto that Seagate hard-drive I mentioned earlier today and yesterday.
Eastwood and Dean Zelinsky of Zelinsky Guitars, Zakk Wylde of Zakk Wylde Guitars, people from Grants Pass Daily Courier newspaper, people who represented Ann Wilson, and Ron Howard of Hollywood Director fame were among the people who held my family captive. If this information is followed up to stop terrorism, Ron Howard will be forever famous as the man who directed the 9/11 terror attack at World Trade Center, not a movie, the actual attack in new york.
I could go on about what people were here at my home with machine guns forcing me to make graphic design work for them, but for now I want to point out that this man Robertson and that other man Koch, I have long suspected to be the same guy.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fP2g4BZ2Bvc&utm_campaign=Eastwood+Weekly+Digest+20th+FEB+2021+%28TARUpq%29&utm_medium=email&utm_source=Master+Segment+of+ALL+Lists+Combined+%28Auto-Updating%29&_ke=eyJrbF9jb21wYW55X2lkIjogIk1UYlE5RSIsICJrbF9lbWFpbCI6ICJzdG9uZS5tYW4ud2FycmlvckBnbWFpbC5jb20ifQ%3D%3D
youtube
A small airplane is circling over my house as I write this information at 2:04 pm.
Of note, when I spoke to Mr. Koch at Wildwood about the Flying V I bought, he thought my name was “Strong” and wondered why I wanted my guitar sent to my home address rather than to Strong’s at 3747 Russell Road.
“Are you Strong?” he asked on the phone call.
“no stronger than I need to be” was my response
I remember that and a little more about that phone conversation, which included that the Flying V had some “Sun Damage” from being in the show room window for too long.
The guitar arrived with a hidden thing inside of it. The thing was a small metal canister, looked exactly like a CO² pressurized canister, the kind that is used for a BB Gun and other things, except this one was a micro canister, was only about one inch long, and was inside if the pick-guard cover where the pick-ups are in the guitar. I found it in there a short time after receiving the guitar. I took it out and set it on a table. Later the next day or so, someone had come into my home and I found that person taking the guitar apart in my house. There was a fight.
I looked for that little canister at some point after that fight, and it was gone, not on the table anymore.
Then another time, the Flying V was leaning against the amplifier, and the front door came open, some asshole ran into my house, grabbed the guitar and ran back out the door, while the cord was still plugged into the amp. I gave chase. I grabbed the cord as it was yanked from the amp when the asshole ran out the door with the guitar, the guy had a nitrous oxide tank, it ignited, he launched into the air over by that other house I showed that I was trying to build. He was clinging to the guitar, as I was holding the cord that was still attached to the guitar, and for a moment, I was flying a human kite. The guitar fell, and I caught if before it hit the ground, as the terrorist bastard took off like a rocket.
That is one of the stories I can tell about my Gibson Flying V Guitar, one that actually took flight for a little while.
now, I can’t play guitar. I cannot do any other thing except watch my front door and windows while trying to reach help, and I learned again that the US President does not do US national security or defense work, he is a terror operative, and works for Great Britain.
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2:32 pm:
“Green‘s of Olde Three Ply” is the name of the Ann Wilson/Dean Zelinsky/Zakk Wild/Eastwood Guitars/Jorgio Bergoglio/Grants Pass Daily Courier, etc. terror cell.
They are the people who are running the White House currently from Kauai Ranch in the state of Hawaii for the British and House of Lords.
The name is based on the three ply plastic pick guard of a 1958 Gibson Flying V guitar, is also a nod to the British made Marshall Plexi amplifier.
“Green’s of Olde Three Ply” are the leading terror cell of the “Green Jello” family of terror cells. “Green Jello” is headed by Jay Leno on west coast USA, “Green Gelatin” on the east coast is headed by David Letterman.
“Green‘s of Olde Three Ply” are Vatican Choir High Command. The entertainment on board the Flying V Pirate Ship captained by The Jim Dunlop.
It’s all symbolic, but is as real as it gets when they bring down big fucking sky scrapers and don’t get caught.
They are the same book.
The 9/11 commission report, all 500 that were “printed”, are really G.W. Grainger Catalogs re-fitted with new “9/11″ covers so they could show that some catalogs were “printed“.
There is no “9/11 Commission Report” and never was.
=========================================
3:25 pm:
Twitter terror teams rolled out a special set of personal threats where they are planning to attack me at my next Driver’s License Renewal at the local Grants Pass DMV on Beacon Ave, across from the Fred Meyer store, and above the secret hole/torture center/secret terror call center under there, where tunnels lead to from under the Cartwright’s Sandwich Shop in the same strip mall, from the Walmart and the Sheriff’s Office, tunnels built by Elon Musk’s Boring Company Machine’s, lead all under the city of Grants Pass from the Sheriff Office to the Fair Grounds, to the Asante Hospital, to the Cartwright’s Butcher shop on Union Ave, to the secret torture/surgery center beneath the JD’s Sports Bar, and from there to the Southern Oregon Dental Office of Dr. Arrigati, where small children are snatched through a hole in the wall as they wait for their parents in the kiddie play area where the Highlight’s Magazines are neatly arranged for them on the bookshelf, then back to the hospital goes the tunnels.
The threats are scattered, inside of Tweets and advertising in the “Trending On Twitter for Jim Henson and Woody Allen”. Today’s Twitter Death Threats are sponsored by the Ron Howard Memorial Foundation at his Master Class Production Studio at Universal Theme Park.
So, I’ll do a reminder that Donald Trump exploded in a bus along with Mark or Jeff Kiesel of Kiesel Guitars, and some other people, when Donny opened the guitar case that had the C-4 Explosives in it that were provided by Micheal Moore of SuperSize Me fame. That happened out front of the Grants Pass DMV and no one has noticed that Jeff or Mark Kiesel is dead yet.
Ron Howard is the person who decided what angle all of those fake airplanes where to be said to have come from when they were said to have crashed into the World Trade Center, and he was onboard that helicopter that morning, the one that took the only live broadcast shot of video that day. That shot was interrupted with a “key mask filter”, where a series of other fake frames of video were inserted to show the fake airplane hitting the building.
In the month’s preceding the controlled demolition of the WTC, Ron Howard made hundreds of helicopter flights in order to determine the best, most convincing angle from which all of the other fake airplane video was derived from, to make it easy to produce, and get the most terror bang for Ron‘s Buck’s from Starbuck’s Terror HQ (AKA: The One Hour Martinizer)
Opie is a terrorist, write it down so you don‘t forget when they bring the nitrous/medazolam mixture to your home or office.
Asshole... I got your master class hangin’, you candy ass pansy.
================================================
4:02 pm:
In other news:
It’s Trending on Twitter, so, that automatically means it’s a terror marching order, or update, or is a confusion service for detour, distraction, or road block to happen for advancing the Christian/British/SAG pirate ship.
This here says: “30 percent more”
That is one part, there may be more to it, but there is a “Surgeon General Sized Dark Matter In Your Face Sale Item” somewhere.
My guess is that all of the tobacco products are poisoned, and the nsa may have figured that out, made some low level arrests somewhere, and are wasting their time and resources when they should be rounding up SAG Members, congressional members, US State Governors, and musicians to take them all on a one way trip to Easter Island, and drop them all off there to fend for themselves.
By the way, I am already aware that the tobacco is all poisoned. Why wouldn’t the tobacco be poisoned when the terror uses a primary weapon that is also rocket fuel, nitrous oxide? They need to kill off the people who smoke tobacco without getting close to them, so, the tobacco is all poisoned with the same stuff the (that) makes a symptom of swollen leg and rash.
Look at the reflection of the coffee cups on the table, see that it resembles a Sale Packaging of “30 Percent More” like it says on the American Club Brand of tobacco products sold at places where pipe tobacco is sold, such as “News & Smoke’s”, AM/PM Convenience stores, and Sixth Street Market.
Remember when the cigarette packaging was mandated not to say “Light” anymore, and by congressional measures they mandated that it all had to change to “My Little Pony Rainbow Warrior Color Code Packaging”?
That is the time when Phillip Morris was hijacked by the Canadian/SAG/British terror army, and since that time all of the tobacco has been poisoned with stuff that causes rash, leg swelling, circulatory problems.
The same terror comm is presented with today’s news of Philip Mountbaten “Prince Philip in the Hospital”. Maybe there is good news, maybe nsa are people who smoke cigarettes and are tired of being poisoned, and found the poisoned tobacco put there by Screen Actor Guild in Congress.
https://twitter.com/i/events/1362833086833184769
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
In other news:
(mixed bag of Twitter terror marching orders today)
This Twitter trend is about Owen Wilson’s Birthday.
The Trend seems to be a confusion somewhere took place, where Owen Wilson has been confused with Kurt KaBlam (sorry Kurt, I know it was the 27 Club, and so does every one else)
So, that means the Twitter Trend is about:
Birthday = “Death Day” in SAG terror comm, and in real life when you go to the pharmacy and they always ask “When is Your Birthday?”, means you are marked for take-out when anyone asks for your birthday during a business transaction.
O = “a hole”
Ow + en = “Hole in” (is graphic and phonetic)
Ow = it hurt, rhymes with Kurt, so, “it’s a Wrap” (means One Hour Martinizer is also part of the Trending on Twitter. One Hour Martinizer is “SAG’s Hit Squad”. Nancy Sinatra’s Personal Goonz Squad of Gangsters. Could be USPS involvement based on what I can read in the terror commands in the Twitter Trend about Owen Wilson)
Add some Wilson: “Hole in Wilson“
Ann Wilson must have burst, has a leak.
The Twitter Trend about Owen Wilson is that Ann Wilson popped, and is leaking.
https://twitter.com/valuekid/status/1363257150785662978
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5:00 pm:
More Twitter Trends:
This one is elementary:
The money WAS used differently than going Mars.
It was used to fund an enormous army of Canadian terror soldiers from the astronomical amount of funding that nasa gets from the Alpha Breasts, US Treasury & Reserve.
The Woody Allen Trend today is the same as the Mars Trend, because in the movie “All you ever really wanted to know about sex but were afraid to ask” there is a giant size breast that is chasing people around in a park while squirting them with Mother’s Milk.
That, and an “Orgasmatron“ is featured in the movie, also is automated squirting terror comm. “ATM at the Alpha Breasts” that long ago.
There is no one watching the baby. The baby is on fire.
Even if SAG spent a million dollars to make the fake Mars video at Pixar Studios (part of the Disney Family of Brands) they still pocket other billions of dollars that the fake nasa is funded with, while making even more profits from the advertising and products that are generated as a result of the fakery, all of the toys with “Mars Rover Barbie” and other products make them tons of money. Then, when Elon Musk and Richard Branson shows up to rent the launch pad, that makes even more advertising money profit when the “Live nasa Podcast” happens. (a Pod, is a group of whales, such as Elon Musk and Richard Branson are) My guess, is that when advertising is sold for a “nasa launch” event, those advertisers (whales) might want some front row box seats sometimes to watch the fake launch, are invited to the event, where there is no rocket. The terror bastards make sure Dolly Parton is available at the event, and the advertiser is hijacked right there at the launch pad, belongings and wealth all carted away on hand trucks to part the advertisers from their wealth, family, and other assets. What sort of “whales” do you suppose might like to see a launch of a rocket from nasa? Maybe video game designers, makers of high tech materials and products, people in the airplane and car manufacturing industry ... high tech engineers of all kinds would like to see a full size rocket launched up close.
nasa is also a take out center, where pirate whaling ships are moored, waiting for Moby Dick with every fake launch.
https://twitter.com/search?q=%23InsteadOfGoingToMars&src=trend_click&vertical=trends
In Arizona on Silver Creek Road in Bullhead City there is a hospital.
Inside the hospital are fake patients in real hospital beds, fake doctors are there looking at real MRI Imaging, fake nurses are in the halls pushing around real wheel chairs with fake patients in them and the prettiest girls in the world work the reception counter.
In the back there used to be a cafeteria, but that is no longer there, instead, there is a fully equipped recording studio inside of the hospital complete with gold records framed and hanging on the walls.
When I was there, a band was playing very loud out on the floor where the cafeteria seating used to be and the music could be heard all the way to the crematorium across the street and down the road.
That is true right now. Metallica records music there, well, they used to, rest their souls.
The thing I am trying to say is that the packaging does not always reflect what is inside of the package. So, at nasa, I suspect there is a fully equipped rock music recording studio, where the rock stars who are really assassins and always have been can use as a place to hide while recording their music.
There is a secret Metalica studio in the middle of a Riverside California neighborhood, where they killed everyone who lived in the neighborhood, and replaced those houses with occupants that form a private Metallica army of soldiers.
I love music, and I hate that I have learned all of this about the musicians who make the music I enjoy. The truth also includes that the musicians hardly ever write the lyrics to their own songs, the people the kidnap do the lyric writing for the “Insult to injury” part of the terrorism. Real terrorism is complicated like that.
Round them all up, take them to Easter Island, drop them off to fend for themselves.
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6:07 pm:
More Twitter Trends:
I don’t know what to say about this one.
Seems like if a gun is going to shoot, it could happen at the store where the guns are supposed to be.
The obvious thing though, is “But I thought they said the whole place was covered up in a snow blizzard and the President sent a ton of money and supplies there to get the frozen people some food and warmth in addition to the alternating mandatory power outages. That officer there could maybe use a fresh short sleeve shirt I suppose. He already has some gloves looks like.
They are preying for the people of the south somewhere.
I’ll just advise to use a Bic Lighter, and don‘t call on the President to stop the killing, that only makes it worse.
https://twitter.com/i/events/1363259956716138497
===========================
6:35 pm:
More Twitter Trends:
It says the airplane turned around and went back to Denver.
There are Two airports in Denver.
That thing they are showing looks like an engine cowl, seems awfully big to me.
At the new Denver Airport where the horse statue is at, there is a horrible built in killing machine. It’s a place where airline passengers are told to wait for their flights down in a lower, recessed area inside of the main terminal building. When enough people get down in there, a loud horn is sounded, and a wall of water comes rushing out of the walls that surround that recessed area. The victims are flushed away with their luggage.
It’s built in to the airport for killing large numbers of people intentionally, and no one has noticed that it exists. I already wrote a lot about that contraption here on this account, and, that there are some cruise ships the have the same kind of thing built in to them, where people swimming in a top deck pool are flushed out to sea. My understanding is the people who put that thing in at the airport in Denver, got the idea from the ones they had already installed on the cruise ships and were working real good for terrorism.
Royal Flush Ride at On-High Airport.
There are two escalators that lead down into that circular shaped area, there is a attendant there at the top of the escalators who asks everyone if they are a SAG member if they begin to go down into the recessed area. When I was there, I answered “Yes, every chance I can get” and was advised not to go down there. I had to run backwards up the escalator to get back up to the top once I realized that the attendant had asked me a very important question.
Later, the horn sounded, I looked over the railing to see that enormous wall of water as it swept everyone down there away, down a drain. There is a couple of places down there where the floor is low, and another level of a ledge is slightly higher. The people all begin to try to climb up onto that ledge, and everyone at the railings looking down there begin to cheer, as if to have been entertained by watching those people try to save their own lives by seeking out the higher ground as the water comes through. It’s not a high enough ledge, and they get swept away in the airport hole where the water comes out of the wall.
There is no one watching the baby, the baby is on fire. USA is the baby.
We are blatantly being slaughtered, and there are no more authorities who will stop the madness.
You have to consider how many people were involved with that installation to appreciate the point of mass murder we have reached in USA. Planners, builders, engineers, tradesmen, county and city officials, product manufacturers. and many more people... thousands of people were necessary to install that contraption that was made for two purposes. One is to support “Kill & Replace” terror, the other is as an entertainment venue for SAG members to watch the killing happen.
https://twitter.com/i/events/1363248024084877312
The airport with this hideous blue horse out front is the one with the Royal Flush built in.
Stay away! Go to the other airport.
There is probably some other killing contraption at the other airport, but I have never been to that older one.
My visit was in 2006. I don’t see how they could have removed that without a major remodel, maybe could be covered up though to hide it.
That statue reminds me of other statues that have similar characteristics located on the Colorado River in Bullhead City near Laughin Nevada.
There are a series of very large “Flying Monkey” statues on the river banks, each side, are south or east of the casinos, not far from them.
The “Flying Monkey” statues are also big like that horse is, and there are about ten of them as I recall, five on each side of the river, spaced at about one-half mile apart from each opposing pair. The are arranged that one statue faces another identical one on the other side of the river. They are not available to see online anywhere, and don‘t show up on Google Maps.
Rumor is that they were put there by Mormons in the movie industry. There is at least one pair of them where a person can go into the statue, and take a tunnel that goes under the river to the other statue on the other side of the river.
They are protected by armed terror soldiers who shoot at people who try to drive to where they are at.
I saw them from my boat as I motored by. Then went by car to get shot at. That was a long time ago, I don‘t remember how long, maybe 28 years.
===================
8:00 pm:
Other news:
In classic Reality TV Format:
The Donald Trump Airplane Documentary:
At the 12:15 minute mark and throughout the documentary, the case of the Engine Cowl Replacement SAGA begins.
There, we see the source of where those engine parts came from when they fell off of that airplane today 2-20-2021.
But this video was made a long time ago, so, it can’t be the source, right?
Maybe it’s a “Where’s Waldo?” and they finally found Waldo, Donald Trump, after he exploded in that bus out front of the Grants Pass DMV by the Fred Meyer store.
If they found parts of Donald Trump, the most likely place where he could be found like that is at the Juseph Myers terror cell at 560 Jackpine. The second most likely place is at the Kyle Myers residence who works as a grocery checker at Fred Meyer store, but I don‘t know where Kyle Myers lives.
The third most likely place where bits and pieces of Donald Trump could have been taken to is at Ellis Taxidermy on Merlin/Galice Road near the corner of Hugo Road, next door to the Iron Ore Bar & Grill and across the street from where a Pacific Power Truck is often parked.
After that, it’s hit or miss, could be anywhere in Josephine County.
This video is loaded with juicy bits & pieces of terror communications.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3kM7kCWl4U
youtube
I always built my model airplane with balsa wood and tissue paper. Those materials tend to stay aloft far better than does a bus load of gold.
===
8:25 pm:
The Donald Trump Presidency can be summed up in a round about way with this video clip from the movie Shrek. His airplane and the secret communication about it’s use, can be summed up the the words from the three little pigs in the video clip, in strangely abstract ways.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dj-I0nUJMRY
youtube
================
8:41 pm:
Here, Washington Post is trying to make contact with someone from the local Li’l Pantry terror cell.
It’s the photo that makes the communication, but is too complicated to explane and no one cares enough to do preventative counter terror work enough to TAKE TWITTER OFFLINE to preserve USA.
Li’l Pantry has members that live on the same street as I do. The Sparacino terror cell. The Sparacino’s have killed more than one-hundred-thousand US citizens on their own over the past 18 years or so, and there are only five of them.
I suspect most or all of the Sparacino’s are dead, however, the Li’l Pantry terror cell is very big, and they would send people to replace the Sparacino’s. I can’t get close enough to them to see any recent news about them as they are well equipped and experienced hardest of the hard core murderers around here, and are protected by the fake law enforcement and court systems.
The Li’l Pantry is a convenience store chain in southern Oregon. The amount od citizens that have been killed at Li’l Pantry stores over the past thirty years is measured in the tens of millions, as they prey on tourists on vacation who are drawn to the Rogue River for it’s beautiful camping and white water rafting.
no one cares about US Citizens on vacation though, so it makes no difference that I mention any of this, it just puts me at greater risk, with fewer than zero amount of interested people. no one will send any help for me, or for the people who are already dead, that’s for sure.
https://twitter.com/washingtonpost/status/1363330773949030405
0 notes
Text
Lessons From 1982
Text by Passport To Dreams Old And New:
“In our memories, EPCOT Center often seems to be a greater accomplishment than maybe it was. As I hope I've demonstrated here by going through every aspect of it's message content piece by piece, in terms of actively looking towards the future, the park presented ideas which ranged from fantastical (Horizons) to retrograde (Universe of Energy) to incoherent (Travelport?).
Despite this, in my opinion EPCOT Center was the highest, furthest, most effective summit the entire category of themed design has ever scaled since the opening of Disneyland. Despite its questionable corporates messaging and nonsensical product plugging, EPCOT Center was no less scattershot than it is today, yet something for those first twelve years held the center together in a way it does not now. And here at last we will try to pinpoint it.
I. Embrace Warmth and Human Scale
EPCOT Center was massive and monumental. The size of the walk around World Showcase is still enough to make adults cry. The architectural statements of each Future World pavilion were huge and impressive, but never leaned towards brutalism - instead falling into the Henchman abstraction that I like to call "theme architecture". Yet these gigantic blocks were dropped with symmetrical precision into a landscape which perhaps more than anything suggested a bucolic college campus - with ponds, fountains, rolling lawns and spreading trees.
But inside each pavilion, everything suddenly became warm and intimate. CommuniCore offered its visitors handmade art objects like the Population Counter and Fountain of Information, simply there to be enjoyed. Natural daylight, terraced seating areas, varnished wood and wall carpet offered a pleasing sense of tranquility. Subdued lighting and peaceful music complemented the uncluttered, enticing atmosphere. Everything about EPCOT Center's gathering spaces - The Land interior, Communicore, the Fountain of Nations, the Imagination lobby, the World Showcase courtyards - contrasted textures, tactile pleasures, and colors to create environments which invited you to linger.
Through the 90s, the scale of these interiors, once criss crossed with walls, plants and natural dividers, ballooned until most of EPCOT today resembles a cross between an industrial trade show and a Wal-Mart Super Center. Tarps, canopies, and unrelated nonsense clutter the sightlines of those monumental pavilions. Carts, pop-up stands, and pin carts dot every walkway. Of all of the parks, Epcot's aesthetics respond the least well to these sorts of theme park mainstays, and they really should be elimiated. You need to give people a reason to get inside and sit down, to get away from the crowded tarmac.
EPCOT Center's walkways may have been stark and simple, but once you actually got into each pavilion, you could spend an hour or more in air-conditioned comfort without ever stepping outside. To me this comes down to respecting your audience as well as having respect for the human scale. Disney needs to accept what tens of thousands of locals and fans already know: Epcot is the ultimate hang out park. Each pavilion should be honeycombed with small exhibits, fun diversions, little places to relax and maybe get a drink, in a classy, clean atmosphere. If you give people places they like to be, you'll be surprised what they'll reward you with.
II. Maintain the Ecosystem of Aesthetics
This is a big one, and it's a place where Future World needs to entirely start from scratch. As these articles have pointed out, EPCOT was a hive of competing ideas, companies, and ideologies, yet it seemed to speak with a single voice. That single voice is so strong that today is still reverberates in the public mind, twenty years long gone. How many still know it as EPCOT Center, and how many still associate it with some kind of learning experience?
That's power. That's power than usually only public figures usually attain, never mind a dorky theme park peddling corporate messages and sentimental songs in equal measure. And one reason the voice of EPCOT Center still speaks through time to us is because its message was scrupulously, carefully aesthetically organized and unified.
This is something that got stripped out of EPCOT piece by piece in such a way that it was gone without anybody really noticing it was leaving yet. The demise of Horizons and Journey Into Imagination was only the final piece that fell into place, but just as important to reducing the overall impression of a unified whole was touches like replacing the original wooden railings and carpeted walls in The Land with metal railings and painted walls. Yes, the current look of The Land is, on a micro scale, more modern, but it's less human on a macro scale. The paving of Communicore Central and the removal of all of Hench's softening trees, bushes and ponds is another. Bit by bit, piece by piece, Epcot of today is a far bleaker, harsher place than it was even 15 years ago.
All of this is a result of different design agendas within the company. EPCOT Center was unified in 1985 because it was all built at the same time. The Epcot of today is the result of hundreds of different design teams with different project leaders, budgets, expectations and goals. While an organic environment like Magic Kingdom or Animal Kingdom presents areas where one design tough or another is unambiguously out of place or not, there's no generally agreed upon single system barometer for what EPCOT should look like. It's really easy to, say, replace one railing in one place and bump that single pavilion out of line with the rest. This is how you end up with signs that look like they come from the cover of Dreamcast games or random wavy descending walls, a sure sign of a lost and bored designer.
Disney needs to write this barometer, then. Every sign in Future World must have specific size, color, and font approved choices. Every pavilion must have a dedicated color palette, approved patterns, approved typefaces, and so on. This is why the Future World pavilion icons worked so well as an organizing principle: pictures require no language translation, and sleek icons are even better. There should be no need for flashing LED billboards to help guests find their way to attractions if there's a streamlined, iconographic wayfinding system.
Writing such a manual will inevitably limit the creative freedom of the individual designers creating facilities for Future World, but I cannot see how this would in any way be worse than the garish mishmash we ended up with. The way forward on Future World can be as simple as a start with a strict design standards document, and spread through the rest of the park.
III. Don't Let Them Off the Hook
Disney is really good at talking down to their audience, and their audience really loves it. There will always be a contingent of Disney fans who love toothless pablum like Wishes, but in Future World and EPCOT in general are going to ever coalesce into what it is in the minds of the public, Disney really needs to commit to taking Epcot, and the Epcot audience, seriously.
Taking an audience seriously does not per se mean being humorless or dry. The 1982 version of Spaceship Earth was exactly that, which is why it was reworked to more closely resemble Horizons only a few short years after it opened. Horizons was, despite its eye popping visuals and reassuring message, astonishingly hokey, H.G. Wells by way of Father Knows Best. World of Motion was very funny, Kitchen Kabaret was weird. These attractions offered hopeful apology for their sloganeering, a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down.
Symbiosis, The American Adventure, Spaceship Earth '94 and to a lesser extent The Living Seas all put it to their audience to be ready to make the world a better place - they didn't let them off the hook. And despite all of that, EPCOT Center did have a profound effect on a generation of a certain age. Yes, it was kids who dreamed of piloting the Enterprise instead of kids who fantasized about having tea with Belle, but isn't that still an accomplishment?
Even the lightweight Journey Into Imagination packed an ideological punch. For this five year old child, who didn't much care for science and technology trappings, I walked away floored by that attraction's insistence that I could and should use my creativity to "start making new things". Returning to my ranch house in Connecticut, I scrawled out the lyrics to the Sherman Brothers' Imagination song in black crayon on a piece of construction paper and stared at it for days. That attraction instilled in me at age five the awareness that only I was responsible for getting the ideas in my head out into the real world, and on that wave of inspiration I began drawing volumes. The blog you read now is a direct result of that experience. I may be a castle park kind of person, but Journey Into Imagination changed my life for the better.
Thing is, I am in no way alone. You can't swing a cat in the Disney online community without hitting somebody of a certain age who will readily and loudly tell you that EPCOT Center rewired something inside them. This more than anything is the proof in the pudding that Michael Eisner was dead wrong, that EPCOT Center was relevant, and did matter.
These two articles have been intentionally limited in their scope - I haven't attempted to re-concieve what Future World should be for 2020 audiences from scratch, for example, but then again that never was the point. The point was to become clearer and reach conclusions on what Future World was really saying, and how it said them. And the conclusion I've reached is that EPCOT Center came pre-packed with a sort of aesthetic toolkit, and it's a toolkit that nobody has used since the 80s.
But those tools still work. They can still make muddled messages sing and send the next generation home with the sort of elevating experience I had.
Kids need to see a place that doesn't just tell, but show them that science and technology make our lives better - they needed it in the 80s, and they need it today. It's never going to be perfect, but the next generation deserves a demonstration of mankind's better nature. "If you can dream it, you can do it" may not have been said by Walt Disney, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth saying.“ (x)
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Implications of the Surging Shishper Glacier — A description of Climate Change effect in Central Hunza, Pakistan
January 29, 2020 | Pamir Times | Karim Dad
A view of the glacier lake formed 2nd time after a pause of four months with Shishper glacier to the South. December, 2019
Researchers have established that the accelerated melting of Asia’s estimated 56,000 glaciers is creating hundreds of new lakes across the Himalaya and other high mountain ranges. These natural dams holding a glacial lake in place fails, the resulting flood could be catastrophic for communities situated in the valleys below.
National Geographic Magazine defines flood of this nature as “…..and as the lake fills up, it can overspill the moraines holding it in place or, in the worst-case scenario, the moraines can give way. Scientists call such an event a glacial lake outburst flood, or GLOF. “The challenge with glacial lakes is that the risks are constantly changing,” says Paul Mayewski.
Over the last two years the surging Shishper Glacier has formed huge lake twice. The natural development associated with glacier lake outburst floods (GLOFs) have become an increasingly serious threat to the life, property, livelihoods and infrastructure located downstream.
After a pause in uncertainty and fear, Shishper Glacier has once again blocked the flow of water originating from Muchowar Stream. The glacier started to advance in January 2018 and blocked water flow from the opposite valley for over seven months and finally drained on 22-23rd June 2019 through multiple crevasses. The situation put the valley in panic for two days and then the flow normalized.
The two-kilometer-long part of the expended Shishper Glacier greatly regulated water discharge without causing remarkable destruction as was anticipated and feared earlier. Total discharge was estimated to be above 4000 cusecs while the stream is adopted to 1500 -1800 cusecs flow of glacier melt water during normal peak season. Damages were minimum due to proactive measures taken, especially erecting safety walls on either side of the stream in targeted points by the district government as part of flood mitigation measures. A portion of Karakoram Highway, besides some farm land was eroded during the high flood.
An aerial view of the lake two weeks before its discharge in June 2019
Location of the natural Development
A view of the glacier lake formed 2nd time after a pause of four months with Shishper glacier to the South. December, 2019
Shishper and Muchowar Glaciers, among many, are two of the off-shoots of Batura Wall in the western Karakoram Range in Northern Pakistan. The confluence of both the valleys is located in central Hunza and can be accessed four kilometers away from the main Karakoram Highway in Hassanabad.
Satellite view of Shishper (R) & Muchowar Glacier (L)
Shishper Glacier started surging significantly towards south-west direction from north-east in January 2018. Muchowar glacier, a parallel to Shishper is positioned to the north-west and is stretched towards south- east. Both the glaciers converged into one to form a confluence in the past but since a decade, Muchowar Glacier has detached itself from the other and has retreated about more than four kilometers backwards. This has resulted in creating a deep and long moraine at the mouth of Muchowar valley. A hiker, who very recently visited the valley reported a miner forward movement of Muchowar Glacier too.
The constant aloft and headlong expansion, Shishper Glacier has, so far twice completely blocked water flow from Muchowar stream. This stream has been causing accumulation of water to form a giant lake. The stream earlier penetrated through or underneath the glacier bed and flowed downstream unhindered.
Sher Khan a passionate mountaineer observed “the lake has formed again with the same pattern as was the case last year. The water passage through the glacier collapses -thus damming repeatedly the water flowed from Muchowar stream. Either the dammed water will discharge through the crevasses or will top over the surged glacier by paving a spill way.”
Effects
The moving glacier and its consequent repeated lake formations have put a huge cost to bear to the locals. It has negatively affected irrigation systems, drinking water supply lines, hydroelectric generation and live-stock in addition to posing a threat to other infrastructure, houses and farm land.
Impact on Irrigation network
Due to advance movement of the glacier the feeding end of the main Hassanabad channel, previously irrigating Aliabad, Dorkhan and Hyderabad villages of central Hunza has been disconnected. The channel was carved out across steep rock and hard terrain some 30 years ago. The beneficiary communities built this channel on self-help basis with assistance from AKDN (to meet the material cost) as an alternate water source to meet the growing demand of irrigation water. As the channel dried up hundreds of thousands of trees (mostly apricot trees and other fruit) dried or at the verge of dead. The average covered area suffered of drought is seven kilometers length and one-kilometer width. During the whole irrigation period (April – October 2019) only once the cited area could be irrigated. In normal conditions the area needs five to seven times irrigation for smooth growth and yield. The glacier hit a suspension bridge that was built over the stream to pass on spring water into Aliabad and beyond thus creating potable water crises too.
Water situation was further compounded due to flooding and mud flow in Ultar valley during peak summer season. Ultar glacier is main artery for irrigating the whole central Hunza. One person deputed to regulate water flow at the source lost his life and another sustained injury while attempting to channel in water in Ultar valley in August 2019. The network of irrigation channels originating from Ultar Nalah repeatedly washed away disrupting water flow into villages such as Altit, Ganish, Karimabad, Hyderabad and Aliabad. “Such a drought situation had never been experienced nor had ever been reported during nearly 200 years since Aliabad and adjacent villages were inhabited,” an elder stated.
Economically marginalized segments of society, who form a considerable population and relied on horticulture and stockbreeding for their livelihood have directly been suffered the most as a result of the natural development in Shishper and Ultar.
A view of the passive Shishper Glacier during summer 2016.
Access to Shishper and Muchowar Valleys
The surging glacier and repeated formation of lake has hampered access to both Shishper and Muchowar valleys. Normally locals took around a 2000 or above livestock into these summer pastures and reared Yaks in winters too. In Shishper valley alone, 142 yaks died as heavy snowfall resulted to starvation in 2019 incurring irreparable loss to the poor owners. In usual conditions owners used to bring yaks to a lower altitude where they could find their food during winters. One of the owners who lost six yaks stated that “when I hardly able to made my way during summer, I only found a heap of dead yaks. I was collapsed to see them all dead as they were the only hope to overcome my economic miseries”.
Dozens of miners earned their livelihood from mining in the valley despite very harsh physical conditions. Since two years they have been unable to access the valley for work. It is far more difficult for them to transport food and other necessary items into the valley. “Since two years I have left unemployed due to surging glacier. Previously despite harsh physical conditions I used to go into the valley and earned enough livelihood to meet the basic needs for my family,” said one of the miners.
During winters of 2019-20, the Hassanabad stream dried twice as the surging glacier blocked its flow downstream for months. Installation work on a two-megawatt hydroelectric project was ceased while 1.2-megawatt powerhouse halted its power generation.
Karakoram Highway partially eroded during high flood. 22 June, 2019
The story above briefly covers the overt effects of surging Shishper Glacier and Ultar Glaciers. Such situations and even catastrophic situations are foreseen by climate experts. Glaciers and glaciers lakes lie high above the human inhabitation in the whole Gilgit-Baltistan region. Policy institutions and civil society organizations need to take measures to not only mitigate effects of climate change rather take strict steps to discourse causes that effect climate change. Resilient physical structures, and informed communities, availability of alternate environment friendly and affordable fuel arrangement, reduction in population growth can be some practical steps in addressing the concern. Legislation on banning extension of permanent settlements in identified vulnerable areas and addressing ultra-poverty prevailing in the region also call an urgent attention.
High flood in the Hassanabad stream during discharge of lake water 22 June, 2019
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“A Curious Cat”
The Egyptians had a thing for cats. They even had a religion where they worshiped the feline gods. And If any one of those elusive feline gods had been even remotely as bewitching as my childhood cat I totally understand why.
She was a Seal Point Siamese…with deep blue eyes and a shimmering coat with blonde and brown fur, and even a strand or two of blue and silver mixed in. She was unlike any “normal” cat you’d see loitering in back yards or on front porches – this cat was downright exotic and stuck-out like a fine French restaurant in a trailer park. Great Falls was a simple “all American” blue-collar town, best suited for plain cats like Morris, the fat orange thing from the TV commercials for 9 Lives. Weird cats belonged in places like Missoula or Seattle with hippies and tie-dye and lesbians. She was clearly an outsider and a total anomaly. She might have been imported from Egypt or the land of Siam - wherever that was.
We lived on the right side of the tracks….but only by a few feet. As a matter of fact, old railroad tracks remained in our back alley, abandoned since the 1950s when trucks replaced rail cars for local delivery of freight. We were on the last street where the old residential area met the industrial zone, with a giant three-story warehouse and tire repair shop on one end of the block, and a family-owned lumber yard across the alley. Our teeny home was built in 1916 when Great Falls was a thriving metropolis. I’m guessing it was originally occupied by workers from the copper smelter or one of the many hydroelectric dams that were built in the era. Another set of tracks, about a half-mile away between our street and the Missouri River, carried the Burlington Northern freight trains which rumbled by a couple times a day.
Sometime in the mid-1970s my dad remodeled and we got all fancy with expensive Masonite paneling and a velvety couch and love-seat combo purchased from the House of Furniture for $499. We had multi-level shag carpeting and recessed lighting on dimmers, and the cottage-cheese ceiling had shiny silver sparkling bits.
Ours may have been one of the nicer homes on the block - but just barely. I’m pretty sure the only reason it looked as good as it did was because my dad was always trying to out-do his sister who lived across the river in a double-wide. Hers was a very nice, color-coordinated double-wide, with full skirting and tip-outs. But according to my father it was still a “goddamned trailer.”
My dad worked at a glass shop a block away. There was a vacant gravel lot between the shop and that three-story tire store/warehouse, and two tiny old houses between the warehouse and our place. His commute was better than that of a modern day “telecommuter” – his 30-second walk provided a little exercise and just enough separation between work and home to give him a decent “work-life” balance.
The glass shop was essentially our “second garage.” We spent tons of time there when we needed to do big projects that required more space and the big air compressor. I have fond memories of that place. We painted our old Ford pickup in that shop…twice. We did multiple overhauls on multiple engines for motorcycles, snowmobiles and lawnmowers, and we rebuilt at least one transmission in that space - all on nights and weekends after my dad had spent a solid 40 hours working. Who knew a glass shop would be such a good place for honing cylinders and grinding valves?
I was in that shop with my dad and friends Lloyd and Wes the day Elvis died. And it was there where my dad and I had a big one sentence talk about “the birds and the bees” after my teacher sent me home with a note to advise the class had viewed the sex education film that day. “Well, if you need to know anything about any of that shit, you just let me know.” Thanks, Dad. 6th grade was so awkward.
Nobody seems to remember exactly when, but a Siamese cat showed up at the shop and didn’t want to leave. She didn’t need a new pane of glass for her cathouse - she was lost. My father took a liking to this adorable thing and offered up a little food and some attention.
An exotic animal like this must certainly be someone’s pet. Perhaps it crawled from the back of a station wagon when its human came to get a makeup mirror fixed? “Someone will come to get her” my dad explained as he poured Friskies into a makeshift serving dish fashioned from a decorative glass block.
After a couple days and no reports of a missing cat, Red decided he’d take this thing home. It would be easy to retrieve her should the owners come looking, and it couldn’t live at the shop anymore because the manager was allergic.
I was maybe five or six years old and hardly qualified to name a pet, but for whatever reason my parents gave me the opportunity so I decided her name should be Susie. Where that came from I have no idea…it’s not like Susie was the name of a famous movie star, super model or even a family friend. In retrospect, and knowing her personality, that name was way too plain and simple for this enigmatic feline who had few characteristics typical of a domestic house cat. Susie was my spirit animal, and honestly I think she belonged in a circus.
She was a curious cat. Susie didn’t like milk, refused to eat Tuna, and loved the vacuum cleaner. At least once a week my dad would spend an hour grooming her with the old Filter Queen, a beige-colored canister unit the size of a modern day shop vac. She’d come running the second it was brought out of the closet and would lie down in front of him, letting him suck her tail into the tube before extending her legs spread-eagle style waiting for the suction to take away whatever excess hair she would otherwise shed onto the carpet.
Susie didn’t use a litter box. She’d hang by the back door and would announce with a polite meow when it was time for her to do her business. Even if it was ten below zero she’d go outside. The smell of her fur when returning from the frozen outdoors was something I wish I could bottle – I know I’d make millions on that magic scent.
We had a clothes hamper at the bottom of the stairs where she’d hide until we walked by. Then like a Jack-in-the-Box she’d pounce and start gnawing on your Achilles tendon. You’d think we’d have gotten used to it but it was always somehow a surprise.
My father would tease Susie by wagging a finger until she exploded and jumped from the floor into his arms. She’d purr like the engine of a freshly rebuilt Mercury Cougar until she decided she was done with it, then without warning those beautiful blue eyes turned into fire, the fangs came out and she swiped with a vengeance. Felines are so fickle.
Canine Kryptonite.
Susie was like one of the guys. Far from being feminine, she wanted nothing to do with girlie things and could outfox and outrun any of the dogs in the neighborhood. She was far more masculine than Lloyd’s dog, Velvet, who played with rocks. She was far fiercer than Grandma’s Chihuahua, Cubby, and she had bigger balls than Aunt Kathy’s French gay male poodle, Shante.
Neighbor Doug had a police dog, a German shepherd that looked like Rin Tin Tin. Susie scared the shit out of him – he knew to steer clear when she was on patrol.
Susie and our cock-a-poo Peanuts loved to watch my dad and I work in the garage. They had a favorite spot on a 4-foot-high wooden ladder. The dog would sit on the top rung while Susie hung out on the tray intended for the paint can. Peanuts usually slept. Susie, on the other hand, paid close attention. She was probably taking notes on how to operate the equipment and would be preparing a report for her alien overlords on the mother ship.
My brother and his wife were school teachers in the far-away lands of the Tri-Cities in Washington state. Just like the Egyptians, my brother’s wife had a thing for cats.
I recall one trip when they came thru town with a bizarre hairless cat like Mr. Bigglesworth from the Austin Powers movie. This cat and Susie had a lot in common (both being exotic and suitable for the circus) and Gloria fawned over Susie. I can only imagine how pissed-off she had to have been, having spent thousands on exotic cats imported from breeders. And we got ours for free because she was essentially a homeless drifter, rescued at the glass shop.
“Turn Me Loose, Set Me Free…Somewhere in the Middle of Montana.”
It made little difference where we were going, but on the weekends we just had to get out of town. In the summers we’d pack-up the pickup, hook on the travel trailer and head to a campsite somewhere. Whether a forest service campground or a gravel parking lot in a town 20 miles away it didn’t really matter - my dad just had to escape. Maybe something about the glass shop and our house being so close together didn’t provide the separation from home and work that he had hoped for? Hell, I don’t know…
Susie and my dog knew the routine: they’d wait patiently near the back door at 5:15 PM every Friday after work as we prepared to embark on another adventure. Peanuts knew instantly where he would sit in the cab of the truck between my mother and I on the bench seat. Susie usually jumped up onto the dashboard where she could sun herself and enjoy the view.
Susie was a swimmer - not to be left on the sidelines when the guys went fishing, she would jump in the water, “cat paddling” to the rubber raft floating out in the lake. A cat that swims? Yes. And she would jump in the bathtub every so often. This cat was crazy.
Once on a trip to Canada with my Aunt Ruby we met an Australian woman who really took a liking to Susie. When we went to leave the cat was nowhere to be found and my dad was convinced that the Australian chick had stolen her. She insisted she hadn’t, and joined our search party. After an hour of panic and calling her name we’d almost given up. All the while she was in the tree directly above us, sprawled out with her legs hanging over the tree limbs. Immediately upon hearing the truck start she started meowing. Twenty-seven seconds later she returned to the dashboard and international peace was restored.
“Too many motors.”
My mom had reached a breaking point. “We have too many motors,” she exclaimed, slamming down the glass of “Chillable Red” she just filled from the box. She then took a drag from a Newport menthol and promptly called the Tribune to place an ad in the classifieds. We’d be having a big garage sale that weekend, to offload some excess items with engines that included at least one lawnmower, a go-kart, and the Honda 50 mini-bike I’d outgrown.
Other goodies for sale included a collection of my mother’s hand-made doilies - you know those round frilly things that go underneath lamps or get used as an emergency potholder just once until you burn the shit out of your hands? And we’d be offing a ceramic cookie jar, a creation of “Kathy’s Busy Bee Ceramics,” the studio for which was in a trailer next to the one my Aunt Kathy lived in across the river. This cookie jar was in the shape of a Christmas tree. I hated that effing thing, especially when it sat on the counter well after the season was over. I thought, but didn’t dare say out loud: “It’s not Christmas in July for Christ’s sake – so let’s get rid of this goddamn thing.”
The Garage Sale attracted all kinds of bargain shoppers including one family who arrived in a 1971 Plymouth Satellite Sebring station wagon plucked right from a Brady Bunch episode, complete with wood grain paneling, driven by a woman with a black bouffant hairdo and looking a lot like the country singer Loretta Lynn.
Susie got bored hanging out on the paint tray on the ladder and decided she’d explore the mysterious world of the Plymouth. It was warm, with strange smells and plush carpeting. Its humans were different, and there were “stink sticks” (incense) from the Import Depot. A leftover wrapper from Burger Master smelled interesting, but after wondering “Where’s the Beef” she quickly went to sleep in the Sebring. Nobody took notice and Susie went for a ride for a while, cruising the Garage Sale Circuit all over town.
Of course she woke-up and started howling. She was not for sale. The kids wanted to keep her, but she wanted nothing to do with them now. She was agitated, and wanted to get back to her native habitat where she could guard the roost - even if it had too many motors. Those motors belonged to her and she needed to watch over them.
They had to back-track, returning to all the garage sales in reverse order until they found us. “Is this your cat?” asked the Loretta Lynn look-alike. Susie was returned annoyed and unharmed. Like a wayward teenager busted drinking at a party and retrieved by her parents, she was reluctant to show any emotion and quietly leapt from the tailgate of the Plymouth and returned to the paint tray on the ladder in the garage.
“Houston Means that I’m One Day Closer to You.”
In my junior year of high school I took my first trip on an airplane to see my sister who lived in the northern suburbs of Houston. It was around Christmas of 1982 and I’d finally go inside a real building taller than ten stories. I’d go to NASA where astronauts would say they had a problem if there were one, and I’d shop at a fancy shopping mall with an ice rink inside. Everything was fascinating and I tried not to stare, but I’m sure I made a quite a spectacle and an embarrassment of myself.
When I left Montana there was snow on the ground and it was maybe in the 10s. Since I was in the blistering hot warmth of Texas, I could get a little tan before returning to the frozen tundra up north. The neighbors had to wonder WTF as they looked through the shutters at some albino kid wearing shorts and laying out on the side lawn in the middle of winter. It was maybe in the low 60s the day I tried to tan.
At the mall with the ice rink I remember looking for stuff you just couldn’t get in Montana. I was kind of bummed I couldn’t find the platform tennis shoes like those worn by Stewart Copeland of the Police, but I did buy a cool, slightly “off color” dark-comedy cartoon book from one of the novelty stores there. I’m not sure what motivated me to buy it other than wanting at least one souvenir from Texas, and the book was easy enough.
Later that night I called home to check-in. I was having a great time, and I told the parents I’d see them in a week. This town was fascinating and it was fantastic to be in a “real city” with 8-lane freeways and tall buildings and radio stations that played more than classic rock or country.
“Your cat’s been moping around, so we’re going to take her to the vet.” This message didn’t really alarm me. Susie was getting old, but she was bullet proof.
When I got back to Great Falls a week later I was greeted at the door by Peanuts but no Susie. “She was sick so we had to put her down” said my father as he fought back the tears. “She had feline leukemia” my mother said.
It was a bit of a shock, but really….Susie was no spring chicken (I think she was at least ten years old at that point) and it’s not like it was devastating. Cats die. We all die. And it’s not like I hadn’t thought about it.
Oh, and what was the name of that book I bought at the shopping mall with the ice rink?
“101 Uses for a Dead Cat.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have bought the book?
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New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/world/uncovering-nazi-massacre-of-jews-on-belarus-building-site/
Uncovering Nazi massacre of Jews on Belarus building site
Image caption
The military unit digging in Brest have so far found the remains of more than 1,000 Jewish victims of the Nazis
Slowly, gently even, young soldiers scrape away the dirt of decades from human bones. Tangled with the remains are shreds of cloth and the soles of shoes.
They’re uncovering a little-known chapter of the Holocaust on a construction site in western Belarus.
The mass grave was discovered as building work began on an elite apartment block.
Since then, specially-trained soldiers have unearthed the remains of more than 1,000 Jews, killed when the city of Brest was occupied by Nazi Germany.
Image caption
Human remains were found as construction workers dug foundations for a new apartment block
“There are clear bullet holes in the skulls,” says Dmitry Kaminsky.
His military team usually searches for the bones of Soviet soldiers. Here they have removed the small skulls of teenagers instead, and a female skeleton with the remains of a baby, as if she’d been cradling it.
BBC
People were shot in the back of the head and all the bodies were lying face down. The Nazis dug ditches and people were shot, then fell; shot, then fell”
Before World War Two, almost half the 50,000-strong population of Brest were Jews.
Up to 5,000 men were executed shortly after the German invasion in June 1941.
Those left were later crammed into a ghetto: several blocks of the city centre surrounded by barbed wire.
In October 1942, the order came to wipe them out.
Image caption
This was the forest at Bronnaya Gora where the remaining Jews of Brest were taken and murdered
They were herded on to freight trains and driven over 100km (62 miles) to a forest.
At Bronnaya Gora, thousands were led to the edge of a vast pit and shot.
It’s thought the grave discovered within the old ghetto includes those who managed to hide at first, only to be rooted out.
“When my parents returned, the city was half empty,” Mikhail Kaplan says, flicking through black and white snapshots at his kitchen table.
Image caption
Mikhail looks out over the site of the mass grave in Brest’s old wartime ghetto
His mother and father only escaped the massacre because they were away when the Germans overran Brest. Mikhail’s photographs are of aunts, uncles and cousins who were all killed.
“My father never spoke about what happened, it was too painful. But my grandmother cried all the time remembering Lizochka, Lizochka,” he recalls, reaching for a photograph picture of his Aunt Liza dressed up for a night out with friends.
Image caption
Mikhail’s aunt Liza (R) is seen going out with two friends – all three were murdered by the Nazis
Image caption
Here Liza poses with her daughter Ruth, who also died
After the war, though, Mikhail says the Jewish massacre was not commemorated.
“Everyone knew what had happened, but no-one spoke of it officially,” he says. “The Germans destroyed us, deliberately. The Soviets just stayed silent.”
Even now, the only Holocaust museum in Brest is a room in a basement, curated and run by the small Jewish community that settled in the city after its liberation.
The displays include the miracle-stories of the handful of ghetto survivors who hid beneath false floors or behind walls in their houses for months.
Image caption
The small Jewish museum in Brest describes life in the ghetto
There’s also a city register kept by the Germans. On 15 October 1942 it records 17,893 Jews in Brest. The next day, that figure is scratched out.
“That’s how we know when the ghetto was liquidated,” community leader Efim Basin explains.
He had suspected that workers would find some bodies at the construction site, but never so many.
“This only underlines how little we know about our history,” he adds.
Efim has been exploring the archives over the years, working to correct that. But witness testimonies are limited. And the fate of the Jews in Belarus has always been merged with the catastrophic losses suffered overall under occupation.
Image caption
Gravestones from the Jewish cemetery were cleared away to make for a sports stadium
“Officials would repeat the mantra ‘Never forget!’ about the dead, but the Jewish part was hushed-up,” Efim recalls. “War memorials were all dedicated to ‘Soviet citizens’,” he says, calling that part anti-Semitism, part the Soviet stress on “one nation”.
“But that was very offensive. The Jews were not killed for resisting the Nazis. They were killed because they were Jews.”
Touring the city on foot, Efim points out the many traces of Jewish life at its heart.
Image caption
Brest’s cinema was built on top of the town’s main synagogue during the Soviet era
They include the main synagogue, with a cylindrical cinema built on top of it in the Soviet years. The original marble walls are still intact inside, too solid to destroy.
The Jewish cemetery, partly demolished by the Nazis, was then finished off by in the USSR. The graves were heaped with soil and a sports stadium was installed on top.
The only Holocaust memorial in the city centre was put up by the Jewish community itself and the diaspora.
Image caption
Brest’s memorial to the thousands of Jewish victims of the Holocaust from the city was erected by its surviving community
So they’re pushing for a new, official monument now at the execution site. The proposals so far, though, include planting some trees in what will eventually become the garden of the luxury flats.
Find out more about Belarus:
“Some people say they’re building on bones, but that isn’t true,” Alla Kondak, of the city’s culture department insists. “We will only stop [excavation] work once all the remains have been recovered.”
Those bones will be reinterred at the city cemetery, along with soil from the site, and Ms Kondak sees no need for more.
“There are graves everywhere here! The Germans shot and buried people on the spot,” she argues.
Image caption
The mass grave was found in an area of the old Brest ghetto where the Nazis forced the city’s Jewish population to live
But it seems few locals are aware of the specific fate of the Jews.
“We didn’t learn anything at school about the Brest ghetto,” two women in their twenties admit sheepishly. “I don’t think anyone our age really knows.”
“I know nothing about the ghetto or the grave,” an older lady says, close to the excavation site, and hurries on.
But as another day’s digging there draws to a close, the soldiers emerge from the pit balancing more muddy crates full of bones.
It’s a history that becomes harder to ignore, with every fragment recovered from the ground.
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This Land Is Our Land: how Lady Gaga sang an anti-Trump protest song at the Super Bowl without anybody noticing
Gaga’s message was hiding in plain sight: she opened with a medley of God Bless America by Irving Berlin and Woody Guthrie’s protest song This Land is Our Land, an anthem that has not only been adopted by protesters at anti-Donald Trump marches, but was written while Guthrie was paying rent to Trump’s father – the creator of the real estate empire that helped to land the controversial president in the White House.
The lyrics of Guthrie's song were no fantasy: the 27-year-old musician wrote it while hitchhiking across America from California to New York, where he would try to make it as a singer and be welcomed into the city's left-leaning folk music circles. It was 1939, and America was still wracked by the Great Depression – Guthrie had been travelling around as an itinerant worker for most of the decade, and sending money back to his wife and three children.
Irving Berlin, the Jewish-American lyricist and composer, had written God Bless America in 1918 while serving in the army. Twenty years later the rise of Hitler encouraged him to revive it. It was sung on Armistice Day 1938 by singer Kate Smith on her radio show, and had become a sensation across the country.
"At first he wrote it almost as a parody of the Berlin song, that was country humour at the time," his daughter said. "A tongue-in-cheek 'God Blessed America for me, ha ha'. Then he later said it was more serious than that. It’s interesting to pause and say, this isn’t poetry, it’s journalism."
It wasn't until 1997 that the world would learn of how political Guthrie's lyrics really were. Only three of the original six verses were published and those concerned themselves with America's sparkling sands and waving wheat fields. But the others tell a darker side of Guthrie's experience – of hunger, poverty and land ownership:
Was a high wall there that tried to stop me
A sign was painted said: Private Property,
But on the back side it didn't say nothing
God blessed America for me.
[This land was made for you and me.]
When the sun come shining, then I was strolling
In wheat fields waving and dust clouds rolling;
The voice was chanting as the fog was lifting:
God blessed America for me.
[This land was made for you and me.]
One bright sunny morning in the shadow of the steeple
By the Relief Office I saw my people
As they stood hungry, I stood there wondering if
God blessed America for me.
[This land was made for you and me.]
At the bottom of the first draft for This Land is Your Land is an asterisk, written next to it a command that Nora has since called Guthrie's mission statement: "all you can write is what you see".
New York had a housing crisis after the war. Hundreds of thousands of servicemen returned to the city and needed somewhere to live. While state and city authorities usually stepped in to fund low-cost housing projects, the demand caused the Federal Housing Authority to issue loans and subsidies to build apartment blocks in urban areas. One of the developers who took advantage of the schemes was Fred Trump. He built public housing projects, collected rent on them, and, in 1954, was investigated by a Senate committee for profiteering off public contracts. His son, Donald, was eight years old at the time.
In 1950, Guthrie moved into one of Trump's most contentious properties, Beach Haven in Brooklyn. He signed a lease and lived there for two years – long enough for the singer to clock that Trump was, in the words of his biographer Gwenda Blair, enthusiastically abiding by the Authority's "restrictive covenants" that would stop his properties from being sold to non-white people.
Guthrie voiced his anger at living in "Bitch Havens" in lyrics and poetry in unpublished notebooks that can be found in his archives:
Beach Haven ain’t my home!
I just cain’t pay this rent!
My money’s down the drain!
And my soul is badly bent!
Beach Haven looks like heaven
Where no black ones come to roam!
No, no, no! Old Man Trump!
Old Beach Haven ain’t my home!
Between 1973 and 1978, the Civil Rights Division of the US Justice Department brought a case against Trump accusing him of "racially discriminatory conduct by Trump agents". Employees had provided evidence of doormen discouraging black people who came to view apartments, or claiming there were no vacancies. There were records that Trump had wanted to "decrease the number of black tenants" in his development.
Guthrie would never live to see justice done to his landlord. He died 12 years before the Village Voice published an expose about Trump's practices in 1979.
Guthrie tucked the song away and forgot about it, he would later claim, for five years. This Land is Your Land wouldn't be recorded until 1944, and it would take another seven years for it to be released, in 1951. By this point, McCarthyism had taken hold and with many in Guthrie's circle being blacklisted, his work became less desirable to the music industry.
The song reached daycare centres and church halls thanks to Pete Seeger, who was playing any venue that would have him after being blacklisted in 1955. He would always include a couple of Guthrie's songs on his set list, and frequently This Land is Your Land was among them.
But it was Dylan who would bring Guthrie fame as the song's writer. Like Guthrie before him, the young troubadour had journeyed to New York to become a musician – but visiting the older singer-songwriter was a considerable lure. Dylan later admitted, "I said to myself I was going to be Guthrie's greatest disciple".
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/music/what-to-listen-to/land-land-lady-gaga-sang-anti-trump-protest-song-super-bowl/
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Johnstown Flood 1889
Johnstown, Pa, in May of 1189 is a booming steel, iron and coal town of approximately 30,000 souls. Among other things, it was the top producer of barbed wire in the US.
Johnstown before the flood- (pic from Cambria County USgen web archives)
Within the span of 10 minutes, the town and it’s residents were devastated.
(source Johnstown Area Heritage Association- jaha)
Background
Founded in 1800 at the confluence of the Stony Creek and Little Conemaugh rivers into the Conemaugh river, the nearby rail line and Pennsylvania Main Line Canal led to rapid growth of the city. 14 miles upstream of the South fork of the Little Conemaugh river, an earthen dam had been built to form a reservoir as part of the canal system. The South Fork dam was eventually abandoned by the state and eventually ended up in the hands of Benjamin Ruff, the founder of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting club.
The reservoir was dubbed Lake Conemaugh and was converted into resort area for the rich.The dam’s neglect over the years required significant repairs, including the replacement of the drainage pipes sold off by a previous owner. Instead, the leaks were patched as they occurred and the dam was lowered and widened to allow traffic across the top.
Settling and lack of repair caused the middle of the dam to sink down lower than either end. Even in the best condition, the center is under the most pressure and the weakest point of a dam. A previous breech and incorrect or inadequate repairs left the South Fork dam even more vulnerable.
(source Madrid Engineering Group)
On May 28th, a storm system passed through the area and dropped 6-10 inches in just 24 hrs. Despite the best efforts of the club’s members, the increased volume of water was too much for the dam to contain. The critical failure occurred at 3:10 pm when the dam dissolved from the multiple leaks.
(Source: Originally printed in Harper’s Weekly: Taken from Jaha)
20 million gallons of water rushed through the gap, sweeping away two men trying to plug the original leak. The water surged downstream and swept away smaller villages in it’s path. Men, women,and children joined the mass of trees, animals, and wreckage trapped in the raging torrent as it rushed towards Johnstown at 40mph. A combination of existing flooding and unheeded warnings left a large portion of the population still in their homes.
Richard Davis ran to Prospect Hill when the water raised. As to Mr.
Dechert's message, he
says just such have been sent down at each flood since the lake was made. The
warning so often proved useless that little attention was paid to it this time.
“I cannot describe the mad rush,” he said, “At first it looked like dust. That
must have been the spray. I could see houses going down before it like a child's
play, blocks set on edge in a row. As it came nearer I could see houses totter
for a moment, then rise and the next moment be crushed like egg shells, against
each other.” (1)
The wall of water was temporarily slowed when it came into contact with a viaduct across the South Fork but even that gave way with the wreckage added to the flood.Locomotives, boxcars and masses of barbed wire were added to the deadly mix of debris and people.
Robert Miller, who lost two of his
children and his mother-in-law, thus describes the scene: "I was standing near
the Woodvale Bridge, between Maple avenue and Portage street, in Johnstown. The
river was high, and David Lucas and I were speculating about the bridges,
whether they would go down or not. Lucas said, 'I guess this bridge will stand;
it does not seem to be weakened.' Just then we saw a dark object up the river.
Over it was a white mist. It was high and somehow dreadful, though we could not
make it out. Dark smoke seemed to form a background for the mist. We did not
wait for more. By instinct we knew the big dam had burst and its water was
coming upon us. Lucas jumped on a car horse, rode across the bridge, and went
yelling into Johnstown. The flood overtook him, and he had to abandon his horse
and climb a high hill.
"I went straight to my house in Woodvale, warning everybody as I ran. My
wife and mother-in-law were ready to move, with my five children, so we went for
the hillside, but we were not speedy enough. The water had come over the flat at
its base and cut us off. I and my wife climbed into a coal car with one of the
children, to get out of the water. I put two more children into the car and
looked around for my other children and my mother-in-law. My mother-in-law was a
stout woman, weighing about two hundred and twelve pounds. She could not climb
into a car. The train was too long for her to go around it so she tried to crawl
under, leading the children.
"The train was suddenly pushed forward by the flood, and she was knocked
down and crushed, so were my children, by the same shock. My wife and children
in the car were thrown down and covered with coal. I was taken off by the water,
but I swam to the car and pulled them from under a lot of coal. A second blow to
the train threw our car against the hillside and us out of it to firm earth. I
never saw my two children and mother-in-law after the flood first struck the
train of coal cars. I have often heard it said that the dam might break, but I
never paid any attention to it before. It was common talk whenever there was a
freshet or a big pack of ice.” (1)
(source Jaha)
The passage of the flood waters swept away homes and businesses in it’s path, those did not join the mass of debris, being swept downstream, were heavily damaged.The Stone Bridge withstood the flood waters and trapped the mass of wreckage that was being ground to bits as it circled in the bores created by water flowing under the bridge. For the people still alive in that twisted debris field, there was a new horror as it was ignited. At least 80 people burned to death in the middle of the flood, unable to escape from the detritus held together by barbed wire.
(source Jaha)
The aftermath left the whole area either swept clean or a mass of wreckage that would take months to clean up.
2209 people lost their lives with property damage estimated at 17 million dollars. Entire families were wiped out and 750 unidentified bodies were interred together in a local cemetery.
To add insult to injury, the South Fork Fishing and Hunting club was not found responsible for the disaster caused by the dam break, It was termed an act of God and left survivors no chance to recover damages.
Sources used
(1) JOHNSON, Willis Fletcher. HISTORY OF THE JOHNSTOWN FLOOD. Edgewood Publishing Co., 1889. Available at http://usgwarchives.net/pa/cambria/area-flood.html
Johnstown Area Historical Associtation (Jaha) http://www.jaha.org/attractions/johnstown-flood-museum/flood-history/
Stories- a history of Appalachia, one story at a time. http://www.storiespodcast.net/?p=424
History of the Great Flood in Johnstown, Pa., May 31, 1889 by which over Ten Thousand lives were lost. J.S. Ogilvie Publisher 1889
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An introduction to my Final Major Project.
When I started this project I was thinking about many great folk artists from across the world, I was struck by how despite their lack of traditional artistic skill, through diligence and a commitment to their own vision, they were able to create fascinating and intimate spaces, spaces where you are surrounded by the labour of an artist, from every corner of the room, filling up your reality with whats inside the creators brain. Howard Finster's Paradise garden, Sabato Rodia’s Watts Towers, Raymond Isidore’s Maison La Picassiette, It was places like this that I wanted to mimic; The commitment and dedication of the artists is so clear, and the realisation of their vision is profound, as if their internal world inside their brain was built all around them to the best of their ability.
In thinking about these spaces I came to think about why the people that made places like this started in the first place, about what surrounds someone and what is inside someone that drives them to build such incredible environments. In thinking about this I came upon two factors, face and place, face referring to the artist themselves, who they are, what they like, how they were raised, what they believe in. Place referring to where they are, what surrounds them, how much space is available, what populated the land around them? I noticed that so many artists that made massive, expansive works were from America, which is a country defined by its relationship to the vast land that it lays upon, and the freedom that it provides. I feel that artists like Leonard Knight and his “Salvation Mountain” or Dominic Espinoza’s “Colorado Castle” could never have existed anywhere but America.
But applying the factors of face and place to myself and where I live was not such an easy task. Considering how to make work that both reflected myself and the environment that surrounded me was difficult, and initially my thinking was quite basic, I felt that the framework of building a folk art style installation filled with my own improvised and loose style of drawing would be enough, but a couple things steered me away from this type of thinking. For one, the moment I pitched this project to multiple people they would recommend Steven Wright’s “house of dreams” which although I have never visited seems amazing, so he was also basically doing what I wanted to do but on a much larger scale and with the attention to detail and time that I feel a project like that really deserves, naturally it slightly put me off my own smaller version of the same project, similarly to me Steven Wright feels that he is inspired by great outsider artists across the world rather than being an outsider artist himself. So basically someone was doing what I’d thought of but bigger down the street, so I decided to pivot my idea. Another thing that turned me off from my original concept was that I felt it was frivolous to base a project purely on my own improvisation and whatever took my fancy at any given moment to draw, I wanted to try to make something that had a meaning and a purpose that people could really sink their teeth into and hopefully find some substance within. It took me a while to find my legs using this approach, and the first few paintings of the project reflect that in my opinion. They in many ways feel underdeveloped to me. However given the time constraints I didn't have time to redo them (However I did give them some upgrades and tweaks later on.) In a way it feels like a testament to the growing and changing nature of the piece as I was making it, however in another they slightly annoy me and I wish I could replace them with paintings I really felt pulled their weight in the greater composition and helped convey the overall message better.
In thinking about America and folk art I couldn't help but start to think about Basquiat and how he took the language of American folk art, which at the time was even more sidelined and unacknowledged than it is now and managed to apply that aesthetic and visual language to his own life and experiences living in New York. I considered who Basquiat was and where he was, living in a city so similar to mine, filled with galleries and some of the most valuable and esteemed art from across the world, yet also teeming with street art and creativity, creeping from every wall and surface. I started thinking about graffiti as a form of outsider/folk art, and how Basquiat used his own tag Samo earlier in his career, and how already in the late 70s and early 80s he was already deconstructing the iconography and language of tagging and graffiti. I thought about how his contemporary Keith Haring did a similar thing with his subway art series. How in bringing art into a public space and allowing the contrast of his art and its grimy surroundings added meaning into the art itself, turning the subway into a giant gallery for his own installations.
I personally feel like New York and London are similar cities in many ways, both are predominantly Victorian and both are economic and cultural capitals of the world. So I felt that these artists' responses to both folk art and the art around them would be a useful guideline for making my own work.
Using these guidelines I started to steer the work to be more about my own relationship with the city, the art that peppers it and how I interact with it, how the buildings feel around me, how the city changes, where it started, and how it works. The Manhattan grid is obvious and rigidly set, but London's grid is elaborate and winding, the system it adheres to is difficult to understand, but many say that the entire city of London is based upon the dimensions of London bricks, that each room in most Victorian houses is measured around the dimensions of these bricks, and that each block of houses is also based on the dimension of these bricks, this turns London into a kind of synecdoche where each small piece reflects upon the whole, and the whole reflects on every small piece. London is also an ancient city, people have been living by this river for thousands of years. London is a fantasy as much as it is a place, you can feel the history all around you hidden in small details, ready to be uncovered and understood better. I wanted to make work that reflected upon the history of London, the present and the future, I wanted to make a piece of art that reflected on this incredible wealth of culture.
The work itself is constructed in this way, I used brightly coloured spray paint and paint markers to reflect graffiti, which I believe to be the purest folk art of the modern era, I respect local taggers like Glumer and 10foot much more than a lot of mainstream artists, I really look up to their commitment to an artistic statement so simple as writing your own name. I think it’s incredibly admirable. I thought that using bright spray paint on modroc would create interesting uneven surfaces, full of holes that spray paint could seep into and form either smooth plateaus of paint or rough, uneven areas, making a surface that would be interesting to draw on. I also felt that making surfaces like these would add a sculptural aspect to the work, although I had downsized from my idea of building a full tent of paintings I still wanted to make something that people could walk around and observe from multiple angles. I also felt that the surfaces had a modern-primitive feeling, like I was merging the street art of now with Celtic art of long ago to form a mashed up artifact from both the past and the future. I really felt that the work started to take shape after I started using stippling on the paintings more, The small spots helped accentuate the texture of the modroc, allowing you to see the unevenness of the surface even better, as you could see how each individual dot was shaped by the part of the surface it was on, whether it be a smooth area or a rough one. I was also heavily inspired by community murals all around south London. I love these places and it always makes me happy to see a community mural. They're such an honest and unpretentious form of art. I especially love seeing them at adventure playgrounds, which are another of London’s unique forms of folk art, I wanted to use that sort of oblique story telling you see in these murals in my own art, but use it to tell stories about me and my own relationship to the city around me.
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Where I Work: David Stark
It’s been exactly a decade since we checked in with David Stark, a New York-based event producer, designer, author, and President + Creative Director of his eponymous, full-service event design and planning firm, David Stark Design and Production. Founded in 2006, the company has become a go-to expert for fully immersive experiences providing their innovative expertise to the likes of Target, Kiehl’s, Uniqlo, non-profit The Robin Hood Foundation, The Whitney Museum of Modern Art, and The Metropolitan Opera, in addition to a range of one-of-a-kind events for a host of celebrities. He’s also collaborated with West Elm on several collections, done a “store ambush” of Haus Interior in NYC for his WOOD SHOP collection, and a limited edition collection of unique art pieces made exclusively for Bergdorf Goodman. For this month’s Where I Work, we visit the busy mogul in his company’s Industry City headquarters in Brooklyn to see where he works and how he makes it all happen.
What’s your studio/work environment like?
Our office, where we design and mastermind events is a large, light-flooded loft that overlooks a great view of the Statue of Liberty in Brooklyn’s Industry City. It’s comfortable with many conference rooms, a kitchen where the team regularly makes all kinds of yummy, home-cooked meals, a design library that houses material samples and reference books, and an open office plan, encouraging the collaborative process. We also have an area that we use as a photo studio and crafting areas where we experiment regularly. While not fastidious in an overly fussy way, the office has a quiet intensity that wonderfully exudes rapt concentration and innovative thinking.
Wood shop
Paint room
Our studio, where we build the things we design, is a few blocks away. There are buzzing wood and paint shops, crafting areas, and a floral studio with a giant floral fridge. We also have an adjacent warehouse that houses a wonderful history of items we have purchased or built over the years that we regularly transform or reutilize. Trucks pull right up to the dock, and we load straight out of roll-up garage doors. The studio is a wonderland of art-making where anything is possible. The talented and passionate team there trumpet such optimism while continuously pushing out work that is innovative and of the highest quality.
How is your space organized/arranged?
I do have a personal office with a door as well as a glass wall facing into the communal team workspace. There are a few other individual offices like that including the ones for our fabulous administrative and finance teams, but the rest of the gang works in the open plan area. The truth is that I am actually in my office proper very little. I meet with the teams daily in our design library for what we call Office Hours. During Office Hours, the teams present the projects that we are working on for feedback, we kick-off new projects, and we discuss issues related to the events we are producing. Because our projects are incredibly collaborative, it’s more common that we use our conference rooms for big, group work sessions or meetings. We use my office in this way too. I have a giant table in the center of it in which the teams will join me for conference calls with clients or group discussions.
How long have you been in this space? Where did you work before that?
We have been in our home in Industry City for about four years. We have what now feels like a very “adult office” and a much more advanced studio than we had prior. These spaces were designed and planned to be efficient and to meet the needs of our growing organization which is very different than the original spaces we were in for about 20 years prior, held together by tape, hope, and a whole lot of love and ingenuity.
You know, our previous offices and studio were first my home and painting studio/loft when I was a fine artist. I and a former partner lived there, and when our business started to grow, and when we added staff, we simply got rid of the sofa, for example, to make way for a desk. There was no planning at all, and as our business grew organically, so did the way we used (or abused!) our limited space. We were more than overdue a new home for the scale of what our company had grown into. I mean, I remember waiting in line to use the one, single stall bathroom we had in the old, two-floor office with my legs crossed in angst and anticipation. It was time to move!
If you could change something about your workspace, what would it be?
You know, there is very little I would change, to be honest – I truly LOVE it, and I can barely remember life before our current home. Our studio and office feel so, so natural and so “us.”
Is there an office pet?
There is not.
Do you require music in the background? If so, who are some favorites?
At the office, we don’t have music playing, but it is not uncommon for our team to be listening to their own tunes on their headphones while they work.
At the studio, there is music of all kinds on at all times. The gang takes turns playing their favorite mixes. For a while, Buena Vista Social Club was on a constant rotation, but sometimes I walk in and am surprised (as well as delighted) to hear classical music playing in the wood shop!
How do you record ideas?
I have a series of pads all over the house, in my office, and in the bag that I carry around with me. They are mostly nothing fancy, usually simple, blue-lined legal pads, but at home, I like the thick blocks of white paper with silver painted edges by WMS & Co. It feels really luxurious to write on those blocks, especially with a mechanical pencil. One of our wonderful designers, Daria Semenova has taught me the joys of the mechanical pencil – she’s got a whole array of them that I am envious over. I finally got one for my home, but I don’t carry it around with me because I would lose it in an instant.
My best ideas come while I am in the shower shaving. I often have to take a break to quickly write them on a pad close by in the bathroom, jumping right back, under the water to finish after. If I don’t do that, I forget the thoughts by the time I am done with the shower. I mourn the many forgotten ideas that I imagined I would remember but did not.
Do you have an inspiration board? What’s on it right now?
I used to keep traditional, black-hardbound sketchbooks where I would draw or paste in clippings or other inspirations, but I have not done that in years. Now, we typically keep track of inspiration digitally, either with Pinterest or mood boards that our team creates in InDesign.
On occasion, though, we make physical boards that are particular to a project. For example, we are currently collaborating on a new tabletop book with designer and co-author Jane Schulak and photographer Aaron Delesie. There is so much content that we need to examine simultaneously that it was natural to go old-school and create pin-up boards that allow us to see all the materials in one place.
What is your typical work style?
I am personally quite disciplined. I get up every day (Monday through Friday) somewhere between 4:00 and 5:00am. I am freshest between then and 7:00am, before the world wakes up and before I am pulled in a thousand directions. I wouldn’t say it’s easy for me to get out of bed, though. When that alarm goes off at 4:15, it’s painful, but I love the focus that I have in those early hours and being that creatively fresh overcomes the temptation to stay in bed. At 7:00am, I go to the gym to take care of my body and my mind, and then I am off and running to the office, to outside meetings, and events into the evening.
My days are very, very scheduled, generally back-to-back, and the rigor can be intense. It’s a combination of inner office meetings with the team as well as meetings with clients and potential clients outside of the office, and then there are installation and event days/nights on top of that. It’s a marathon, for sure, but I thrive on it. I suppose I have built pretty good stamina up over the years.
But because there is an intensity to the work I do, it was very important for me, when designing and conceiving of our offices, that a sense of serenity and calm were as considered as how our spaces function for the work we do.
What is your creative process and/or creative workflow like? Does it change every project or do you keep it the same?
We strategically keep our creative process similar from project to project. Because we have a large team, with multiple people collaborating on each project, it’s most productive to have systems in place, so that we’re all working towards the same milestones. We start off with a team kick-off where we share the goals of our clients. It is super important to establish from the outset what we want/need to achieve, and then we outline the plan of attack as to how we are going to achieve it. We ask ourselves: What are the presentation methods we are all agreeing upon? What is the timeline? What is the budget? How do we build-in the right check-ins along the way? This stuff sounds boring, but the structure is critical to successful workflow.
What kind of art/design/objects might you have scattered about the space?
We have a collection of sculptures of old-school phones we have recently started. One, my husband (performer and artist) Migguel Anggelo made out of matches. A few others are from past projects, and a tiny one I picked up at the Brooklyn Flea. It’s what the old telephone door-to-door salesman used to bring to “sell” the concept of a rotary phone. I love them.
We also have our light-up building number, “87” from our old digs. It’s a fun reminder of where we came from. We even took the door from our old design studio. These relics are meaningful to me. They chart our journey.
Sculptures in the process of being covered with sand
Are there tools and/or machinery in your space?
We have quite an extensive wood shop, paint room, and floral production area, so we have all the tools-of-the-trade for those pursuits. The team is particularly pumped about our new quiet air compressor! We’ve also recently started using a Hopper gun which allows us to finish off our builds with various textures: sand, plaster, glitter, and more.
What tool(s) do you most enjoy using in the design process?
It’s not a “tool” in the traditional sense but . . . I most enjoy the collaborative nature of working with a team. The old adage of Together Everyone Accomplishes More, is so true, and it’s one of the reasons why I transitioned from fine art to design. I started off as a painter which was a very solo endeavor, but I much prefer working within a thriving community of doers, and that collaboration has become an integral part of my design process!
Let’s talk about how you’re wired. Tell us about your tech arsenal/devices.
I typically have my laptop, iPad, and iPhone all going at the same time. I review designs presented to me by the various teams on my iPad, while I type them feedback on my laptop.
What design software do you use, if any, and for what?
Because our team includes technical designers that come from all kinds of architectural, stage, and industrial design backgrounds as well as graphic designers, and 3D designers, we intermingle a lot of software platforms that include: Sketchup, Vectorworks, Adobe Creative Suite (InDesign, Illustrator, Photoshop), and a whole bunch of image search engines.
David’s desk
What’s on your desk right now?
My desk is covered with stacks of books, folders with notes for our current projects, a sculpture of the Carnegie Hall building which is also a lantern. We made 70 of them as centerpieces for their gala a few years back, and I kept one!
Robin Hood to the Power of You event
Robin Hood to the Power of You event
Is there a favorite project/piece you’ve worked on?
It’s very difficult for me to cite a favorite project as they are all so meaningful to me. I am proud, though, of the long collaboration we have had with the Robin Hood Foundation, designing their big benefit at the Jacob K. Javits Convention Center for so, so many years. It’s probably one of the largest projects that we work on and includes a seated dinner for about 4,500 people with another 2,000 joining for an after-party concert. It’s a giant team sport where we partner with a cast of truly inspiring, talented folks to pull off what is ultimately one of the most successful and moving fundraisers to fight poverty in NYC – or anywhere, for that matter.
Last year’s theme was Robin Hood to the Power of You. Our transformation included installations relating to math, measurement, calculations, education, and teamwork in general. Guests entered through a grand corridor of backpacks filled with school supplies that created vivid stripes on the walls. After the event, the backpacks were donated to over 7,000 New York City school kids. I loved telling an education story with materials that are meaningful and have a life after the event, so that there’s no waste.
Tell us about a current project you’re working on. What was the inspiration behind it?
We are currently designing and planning the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s 150th Anniversary Gala. This is another institution near and dear to our hearts, and we have just begun to dive into the research. We love nothing more than exploring an institution’s archives to find that perfect, conceptual idea to base the whole night upon! It’s a truly exciting milestone to be part of!
Do you have anything in your home that you’ve designed/created?
Yes! I have many, many things in my home that I have designed or created, for sure, and probably too many to name in their entirety. Here are three examples:
• Upon entering my apartment there is a piece of artwork that is hanging above an entry table. It’s essentially a chalk drawing that has been sealed, but it was actually cut down from a giant set piece that was created for a benefit we designed for the Robin Hood Foundation many years ago. For this event, we rendered New York City as a giant, dimensional chalk drawing so that the guests could, as a metaphor, redraw the city as we know it, erasing poverty in the process. The remaining piece that I kept as a keep-sake is somewhat abstract, but you can make out some figures walking across a series of horizontal lines. Before the piece was cut down, it depicted the New York Public Library, with horizontal lines as the grand staircase leading from the street to the Library. A fabulous artist named Dave Singley did the drawing. He has been a central part of studio team at David Stark Design for many years as well.
• In our kitchen, a basket woven “bull’s head” presides over the central island proudly. Years ago, when I was designing a collaborative collection with West Elm, this was a sample for a product within a Picasso inspired collection. West Elm did not move our bull into production, but I kept the sample and love it as much today as I did when we first viewed it.
• I also have a set of plates that I designed for Culture Lab Detroit in collaboration with Pewabic Pottery, Detroit’s iconic ceramics house. I love these and take good care of them, because it’s impossible to replace ones that break!
via http://design-milk.com/
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February 15, 2021: 10:51 am:
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“Lumbard Street”
This one of the reasons why Bill Cosby, a very funny fellow, was taken down by SAG. This bit, and many of his other performances were about real terrorism, so, they gave him the same kind of treatment that they did to Ozzy Osbourne, a little more harshly ... but do we really know that Bill Cosby is alive? Do we really know that he went to jail? Do we really know that Ozzy Osbourne is alive? Did SAG beat the living daylight out of Bill Cosby the same way they did to Ozzy Osbourne? Or, did they do it differently when the (they) beat up Bill Cosby?
What about OJ Simpson? Did they get a bigger, badder, whiter, more righteous holier-than-thou terror bastard from the football game to beat him up?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oOmayx2JBs8
youtube
Listen to the comedy, see the truth. That stop sign at the top of the hill is no joke ,,, “Hey look Martha, we caught somebody” is as real as it gets, is a trap waiting to happen, and is one example of places you already know about. The terror calls it “Dead Man‘s Curve”, there is at least one in every town, a dangerous place where with just a little added distraction or obstacle, turns a dangerous condition into a death trap, one that can get cleared away in a few moments, as if it was never there.
Here, basically what is being said is: “Hey Martha, let’s get somebody at Dead Man‘s Curve”.
Boris is expecting some traffic, particular specific people, who are scheduled and en-route to be passing through a Dead Man‘s Curve sort of Stop Sign at the top of a hill, a place where a Clutch, becomes the Cargo in the Oxcart.
https://twitter.com/BBCNews/status/1361382848570220545
This is by far the very best version of Bydio, the Oxcart, by Modest Mussorgsky, a Russian Composer of Classical Music.
But there is no place called Russia, so, what is this really?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-qw3bWs33I
youtube
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11:24 pm:
If it’s presented on Twitter, it’s a terror command, update, informational bit, could be a detour, distraction, bait, or just plain old fashioned murder hit order, so, let’s talk about this particular terror mass murder where the murder turns into bait later on, like a hot chick turns into a ham sandwich at midnight.
https://twitter.com/FoxNews/status/1361335175725121536
nursing home terror:
This knowledge I have comes from experience of having been engaged to a nurse who worked at such nursing homes in around 2002 in Oregon. It includes that the nurse I was engaged to, later married a FBI officer by the name of Rabner, who was stationed at the Veterans Administration Domiciliary on Hwy 62 in Medford at the time she met him.
So with those things in mind, I witnessed these kinds of events take place at a Grants Pass Oregon area nursing home, where elderly people are cared for, have a room to stay in, have nurses for their health care, and people who cook their meals for them.
The nursing homes have built in pharmacies.
Those pharmacies turned the nursing homes into mass murder centers, where SAG Musicians showed up, killed all of the old people, raided the pharmacies, then handed the keys to the nursing homes over to the Canadian terror army, so that the grand parents of the terror army could come from Canada, to live in the nursing homes, and use the names of the murdered US Citizens that were killed by the Rock Stars from SAG.
The old people are voters.
The new replacement ones vote the way the (they) are told to vote by SAG Leadership at Nancy Sinatra HQ.
When the killing happened at the place on Evelyn Ave. and 7th St in Grants Pass, I happened to be there, my girlfriend had called, asked me to go there, she was a nurse there. When I got there, all of the nurses had been told to go to a different building on 6th St for some kind of OSHA Safety Meeting or some other bullshit. While the nurses were out of the rest home main living area, that is when the SAG Rock Stars came in, went into each room, one by one, and killed the old people in their beds, most were smothered with a pillow.
I tried to help them, I did not understand that all of the people were being killed, I only thought this one old guy was being killed, so, I killed the one that was killing the old guy in the bed, he was suffocating the old guy in the bed, holding him down with a pillow over his head. I took the pillow and told the old guy I was there to help, he was scared, I pretended to continue to smother him with the pillow, and another Rock Star came in to see where his dead friend had gone to, so I killed that asshole too.
I left that room to see that a bunch of Rock Stars were all in the pharmacy area, and the pill bottles were being stolen, stuff being tossed all around, they were huddled in the main hallway reading the labels on the pill bottles, and that is when I left the building to find my girlfriend at the place on 6th St., but I could not find her, so I went home. She came home later, and did not seem to know what had happened. It was so long ago that I don’t recall what we talked about after that, but she continued to work as a nurse at that place on Evelyn Ave.
Later, someone asked me to go to another rest home nursing facility on Highland I think, nearby north Middle School in Grants Pass.
I went there, it was night time, in the lobby was a heap of dead people. About fifteen people in a big pile. Some were not quite dead yet. I could not do anything to help, I talked to someone there long enough to see that I needed to get out of there. I remember calling 911 from the parking lot.
So, the conclusion to that is not a conclusion, but is a perpetuation, where once all of the nursing home residents were killed, then replaced with family of the Canadian terror army, those places serve as take-out murder centers where visitors and professionals who went there, were killed and replaced with more Canadian terror soldiers.
The terror army began to grow in size exponentially at that time, in around 2001 - 2004 and by 2006, pretty much all of the US Citizens in Oregon were all killed and replaced with terror soldiers, all arranged to happen by leadership at SAG.
The story about the care homes is the same story of what happened at the elementary, middle, and high schools, where all of the students were brutally murdered, then replaced with the children of the Canadian terror army. Fourth graders were pushed off of the cliff at Table Rock in Eagle Point Oregon on a field trip when men carrying sheets of plywood went to the top where the children were, and used the plywood like a bulldozer to push all of the fourth graders over the cliff.
There were three bus loads of fourth graders that day, only two students on the return trip to school. I am pretty sure that one of those survivors is a gal by the name of Bailey, who works at Fred Meyer Pharmacy now, is about 30 years old, and was the daughter of one of the men who pushed all of those kids over the cliff.
Bailey is white, female, is very big girl, about 280 pounds, about 5′ 4″, has dark hair, is very unpleasant to deal with at the Fred Meyer pharmacy counter, and she has worked there for a long time. Could be Bailey Gasper, of 325 Jackpine, but I am not very confidant of that. She knows Gasper’s though for sure, and Dewey Gasper was one of the meanest, most aggressive people I have ever known of.
So, no conclusion. The terror army is still killing the babies. I suspect the conditions in new york are the same as the ones in Oregon... dead babies over the cliff, and heaps of old people dying in the lobby at the nursing homes.
Important: You cannot simply go stumbling into the Fred Meyer store asking questions and expect to come out of there alive, it won‘t work. There are fifty thousand terror soldiers on call, all connected with blu-tooth tech on iPhones, who’s primary function is to protect the terror stronghold in Grants Pass. They can swarm, make road blocks with a traffic “Cluster Fuck” and make people disappear in the day time without anyone seeing what happened.
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12:13 pm:
https://twitter.com/SecBlinken/status/1361351840718344197
This asshole above, Blinken at State Department, says:
“I have orders from Trudeau. California Highway Patrol (chips) are to protect Canadian interests where a multi-state raid is happening against SDA terror soldiers.”
Translate terror-speak to English:
“The arrest of people for diplomatic gain must stop now”
After translation:
“The rest of our terror army is called to perform underhanded assistance to aid CHP in stopping the raid.”
It’s a loose translation, is like Mandarin Chinese to English, it does not happen exactly the way it was said in the original language, but you can get the gist of what was said.
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12:50 pm:
This comes up at Twitter, as an advertisement in association to a Twitter Trend of Olivia Wild.
Ok, I am sure that most Twitter users are familiar with the Okta family of brands and services, and are a staple in every household in USA.
What can be said about Okta?
They advise riskless activity is the main message there.
There seems to be a Twitter base of a remote workforce who benefits most from the Okta family of brands, I know my Okta is very important to me, and yours should be important to you too, so I implore all Remote Twitter Workforce Members to heed the call to assess risk, be less risky in every way, use caution, wear yellow in remembrance of Presidents Day to celebrate the achievements of Okta member George W. Bush who gave us the Traffic Lights of Terror, and today, with COVID being what it is, everyday is code Yellow, for Caution!
Today, Okta recommends those who have alternate identifications, to use those, and switch houses, and cars with your fellow Remote Workforce Members, go outside, water your gardens, do light maintenance in the neighborhood, while enjoying the hospitality provided by your fellow Twitter Remote Workforce Households, look around, see who comes and goes in the neighborhood, then, share what you learn, here on Twitter, wherever you see the familiar Okta Logo, where safety and comfort is at your neighbors house, for low risk exposure.
https://twitter.com/okta/status/1357030651753422854
It means the Twitter leadership at Google/Vatican Choir High Command says to switch houses, to use a different fellow terror cell members home, and car. That way it makes a lot of confusion, while not doing anything illegal. The terror army assumes possession of a different soldiers home, stays there for awhile. Doing so makes a situation where identifying reports made at an earlier time, about who lives at a particular place, or works at a particular place, or drives a particular car, are all discounted as not accurate, false, otherwise wrong.
Someone reports a lot of terrorism, when the investigative people show up, none of the report is the way it was written, the wrong descriptions of people, wrong cars, wrong everything. because the terror army is all an army, there homes are barracks, one barrack is the same as the other one, all of the household items are the same in each house, and are stored in the same places in the house, or nearly the same, enough sameness that any terror soldier can occupy any residence, and look as though they have been there for many years, because they know where everything is at, as they trained to do in event or investigations.
Okta, means “Perpetuation of Status Quo With a Difference”, it’s a number 8, but is an infinity sign turned sideways, Okta.
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1:35 pm:
This from the office of the President:
He wants you to remember Presidents today, so, you might think about W. Bush, the ultimate terror hero of all time.
The Tweet is in support of the Okta message.
Translate Presidential terror speak to English:
“... the work ahead of us ...”
“The work (ahead o) fus”
“The workforce” however... “A head between the workforce”
Between = Betwixt
In the next little while, I expect some kind of “Bugs Bunny meats Tabatha” or “Esmerelda Meets Dr. Bombay” terror comm from White House.
There is established SAG Emergency terror code: “Dr. Bombay, Dr. Bombay, Emergency, come right away”
For real. It gets turned into some other statement that can be translated out, to that statement, to say an emergency threatens SAG Leadership.
Biden says there is something between the twitter terror “workforce”. That means “division“, and they are not accustomed to being divided, they are usually the divisors, not the divided.
We’ll have to wait and see where this goes later on.
https://twitter.com/POTUS/status/1361371519096602624
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHWzWLLNQe4
youtube
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3JsuWz4xWc
youtube
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1:59 pm:
This came out of the blue just now:
I don‘t recall having seen any set up introductory work that led to that presidential terror comm below:
https://twitter.com/POTUS/status/1361428681311326212
What is really going on, Joe?
We need to know.
It’s important, so, fess up.
I say that website is a place where terror operatives can be issued a new ID based on the name of a murdered US Citizen, taken from the archives at Social Security Administration.
Reminder: The entire reason that the democrats invented Part-D Medicare, was as a means to aid the murder of US Citizen Medicare beneficiaries. It’s composed of highly complex arrangements, includes all of the participating insurers, the Part-D Medicare arrangement was also used as a means by and through which the insurance companies were hijacked and taken control of by the terror army, Hollywood specific terror cells, and now all of the insurers are extensions of The Hartford, AARP insurance brands, and AARP is another way of saying Democrat Political Party.
Anyone who has survived as a beneficiary, since the time that Part-D has existed, can say many details about terror, and they have information that they don‘t know they have. There are many small details beneficiaries have been subject to, ones that are simply part of Part-D, but are details of a terrorist system of mass murder.
One interesting feature of Part-D terror, is that there are no choices. If you are a Medicare recipient, then, you are bound to Part-D insurance from a third party insurer of a Medicare insurance arrangement.
Think about that.
Those who do not pay the Part-D premium, are subject to substantial monetary penalty when they become hospitalized. Once in a hospital, if a Medicare beneficiary has failed to sign up to a Part-D insurance plan, one will be selected for the hospitalized patient, and a penalty that is based on the number of months that a person did not sign up to a Part-D plan. For Medicare patients who do not require regular monthly prescriptions, they still must pay the monthly premium after selecting a Part-D plan. That means every single Medicare Beneficiary is subject to the kill & replace terror that comes with signing up to a Part-D plan.
Joe Biden might be saying a warning to Hollywood about potential problems they could face at SAG Sinatra HQ due to Part-D wardrobe malfunction.
Other details about Part-D include that all of the beneficiaries of Part-D medicare were granted free “deductible” amount during the Trump years. What I mean to say here, is that although the beneficiaries were supposed to pay a deductible amount, typically about $400, that amount was covered by the White House with some kind of high tech money moving magic. I was supposed to pay deductible amounts during those years, I expected to pay a deductible amount, however, at the pharmacy, the deductible amount was paid by others, and did not show up in any of the record keeping done by the insurance company, or at the pharmacy, so, money moving magic on a grand scale was used for assisting many millions of terror soldiers with obtaining medications. Those medications were mostly transferred to SAGClubMed, a system where Actors, Musicians, Clowns, and Magicians have a vast “pool” of medications to choose from for getting high with the prescriptions that belong to the elderly and disabled people they all killed.
SAG: “We take pills from old folks we kill“
SAG: “We get high while the old people die”
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2:51 pm:
I am tired of doing all of the hard work without any help. So, just the result of the read is all I am going to do.
Everyone at US national security thinks they know everything there is to know about terrorism in USA, they know so much that we are in the state we are in because of them.
Fucking amateurs, every one of them.
This below says that CVS Pharmacy at Safeway stores has been killing and replacing US Citizens in Oregon for decades.
It goes on to say that there is “High Gain on the Clean Channel, where the headroom caved in on itself on Marshall Plexi”
Amp Guru at Kauai Ranch HQ, Ann Wilson and Roger Waters are in some trouble, is a deduction that can be made from Twitter news story, where the Twitter news is used to get a head start over US national security who are doing the investigations, and can’t figure out why so many of their people get killed.
https://twitter.com/ABC/status/1361443655182127107
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3:13 pm:
Follow where this bullshit story about Land Rover and Jaguar going electric, and follow the other branches of the same bullshit, where the Jaguar/Land Rover electric motors morph into Honda motors on F-1 Race Cars. The twitter feed is filling up with this line of bullshit as a shell language about British Petroleum (BP), Guantanamo Bay BRITISH SECRET SUBMARINE BASE, and assisted attempts by US government in league with Britain to take over Exxon/Mobil.
It’s about that oil leak that happened in the Gulf of Mexico, when a secret British submarine deployed from a fake US navy base on Cuba, was used to undermine Exxon/Mobil, in favor of HMS Oil at BP and Aramco.
The Aramco Oil, is British, not Saudi.
dhttps://twitter.com/ReutersUK/status/1361278051770859521
Think about convenience for a moment. You are big British Oil, HMS BP. You are bent and determined to take over the world, and everyone, and everything on it. You need big ammunition, and you need the very best, most convincing bullshit stories to tell. You need to look innocent all of the time, you need to play victim while you kill everyone, and take everything there is to take, so, Aramco is the ticket you need. You build out Aramco, so that when you sabotage Exxon you also sabotage your own Aramco, everyone thinks it’s Saudi, they see that Saudi and Exxon oil is both being targeted, and Iran is blamed. The Aramco is sabotaged in a controlled environment, a handy arrangement prepared with some affordably calculated sacrificial structures. That lures investigative professionals of the oil industry there, to Aramco, to make assessments of damage at a giant size fire, where those oil industry engineers are taken captive, so that the fake ones can say the Iran did the sabotage at the Aramco fire, and in secretly a HMS Battleship disguised as a oil company. All of that takes attention away from Exxon/Mobil, and focus of all of the oil industry shifts to Aramco, where a set of bullshit events took place as bait, all set up by number I O Downing Street and SIS MI-6 GCHQ and SAG Writers Guild, to help to take over all of the oil production all over the planet.
There is more complication to consider. You have to consider that blaming Iran is another controlled environment where victims are lured to when they investigate Iran involvement in anything they are said to have done, same goes for Syria, it’s a controlled environment where US State Department runs the show at those places. They do Iran terror rental service there, under State Department guidance where you go talk to Mike Pompeo, tell him what you need done, arrangements are made so that everyone involved in the rental of terror services around Iran all make a lot of money, gain power is mostly what they want, and any kind of resistance to real terror is drawn into the mix for take out and replacement. So, when Iran becomes the offensive, that means US State is the offender.
We have to take Twitter offline right now.
We have to remove number l O from Downing Street.
We have to do major remodel at Vauxhall Bridge, and we have to take Google into custody to make it work correctly and safely.
We have to remove the Vatican from Italy.
We have to round up all of the SAG Card holders, and take them to Easter Island, and drop them off there.
That will be a good start to restoring freedom all over the world.
none of that can happen without first making a safe perimeter around Portugal and Spain, all of the shore line there needs to be controlled by Global security forces who are opposed to captivity and slavery.
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4:11 pm:
I am trying to figure out the logic used to argue that Twitter stays active during global crisis of warfare commanded from within Twitter, and have been trying to figure that out for many years.
Is Twitter so powerful that their servers cannot be destroyed, or at least turned off? Power cut? I’ll pay for the wire cutters.
I don‘t think that is the problem.
I think the problem is about failure to see the size and scope of the threat to the people of the world that is presented on Twitter.
If there is logic to allowing Twitter to keep on Tweeting, by now, it has to be one of a sting sort of approach, one that can never work, because the Pope has 18 million followers is the reason it won‘t ever work to do sting from within Twitter. The terror army knows who everyone is, they can smell if an account is a bot, is a one of their own, or is a public safety person stumbling around in dark places that are all lit up with pretty colors for them to see with.
The terror on twitter can and does call to service many thousands of theme park employees from Universal Studios Tour and Disney, all of theme park employees are SAG members, those are the rules to work there, and the unwritten rules are that all SAG members are terror leadership, who command the millions of Canadian SDA, and in Asia, the whole city of Hong Kong is the equivelent of the Canadian terror army in USA. People that blend in, and look the same as the people where a British commanded take over is happening.
SAG gets their orders from Britain, Joe Biden gets his orders from Reuters UK. He is a puppet same as Trump, just a different faction of British puppet.
There are two kinds of British Puppet masters, as is explained on this account. The two kinds are basically Christian terror pirates who have been killing people all around the world for 2000 years, then, there are the ones who tried to take over those guys, that is SAG, amateurs, they did not realize that the Christian HQ they took over, were pirates, just thought they were religious people. So the SAG verity at Joe Biden HQ are basically a bunch of clowns who don‘t know WTF they did. And the others are the hardest of the hard core mass murderers who have 2000 years of warfare experience, and old proven deception tactics all worked out, and, those guys invented the Russian Mother of all Hoaxes, so, they are also masters of the Mother Hoax,which is unbelievably enormous.
Both of those groups are in control of Twitter, a sting from in there to catch a few bad guys is a losing proposition, won‘t work, cannot work, is a place where bait is used to catch other bait. One captured bait, is used to capture more bait, to use for capturing yet more bait. The investigative people are turned into “Fish eat fish” for ever inside of Twitter, meanwhile, it’s a machine that is always commanding the Pope’s 18 Million followers. no one is helped, and the march toward global domination keeps on marching as the internal sting is trying to catch a few bad guys who are put there for them to find.
Twitter has to come down permanently.
==============================
4:50 pm:
Other logic about why Twitter is still Tweeting, still advancing a fake virus that is effectively destroying the whole world and everyone on it.
I once had a conversation with people who held my family in a different kind of captivity then what am confined in now, back then, the captors were inside my house, now, they are outside my house, but I am still held captive.
They were the same group of people who hijacked Boeing, they were from Canada, and from Hollywood, and from Grants Pass. They were Eastwood Guitars, Dean Zelinsky Guitars, Grants Pass Daily Courier newspaper, they were the same people who exploded the WTC in 2001, they were Ron Howard, David Letterman, Ann Wilson, Roger Waters, David Gilmour, and Pacific Power Lineman were there with machine guns to make sure I did not escape, and there were many more who came and went from time to time while forcing me to make designs of all kinds of things they needed.
The conversation that I want to say was about “The Cloud”. I remember talking about the idea that a Macintosh SE30 can run a internet service if set up to run it. That idea was taken further into the realm of wireless technology, which did not exist at the time in the capacity we talked about, but the idea was that “The Cloud” could be an array of servers all remotely placed, in various places rather than in one central building, the wireless tech makes that possible, so the idea was to “Take an SE30 and set it up so that it can operate remote servers somehow, such that the RAM and Disc Space of every computer connected to the internet, supplies a small piece to a bigger picture, and does so without the user knowing their computer is contributing to the bigger picture”
So, take “The Cloud”, and some of that explanation and expand on that, with a Macintosh SE30 at the helm, putting the pieces together, routing the traffic, and building Twitter from a computer disc array that does not exist, an array that is composed of all computers everywhere, giving and taking from “The Cloud” to create the pre-packaged Twitter Time line that makes up the “Time Warp Terror” that we are experiencing.
This is beyond my expertise, but maybe Twitter still tweets because no one can find the nest it comes from. If so, the nest is everywhere, is “In The Cloud”.
One place to look for solid tangible stuff associated with the possibility of such a “Cloud” is a company called “Clearwire”. The company had acquired more cellular bandwidth when Television went digital in 2008 than all of the other providers combined is the way I remember that. Then, they were devoured by Sprint. All of the outbuilding of new, different technology they were building for wireless phone service went somewhere, but where did it go? I had invested a lot of money in Clearwire and wanted them to succeed, to provide different wireless phone platform technology than the kind we are using now. I lost all my invest, and the whole company and all of their assets were completely ripped off, all stolen, and the contracts were changed in the midst of the subject of the contracted work being done. The place was hijacked, along with that new wiz bang technology they had already installed and tested in some trial markets.
So, find all of that Clearwire spectrum, software and hardware and maybe that is the nest where Twitter Time Warp is coming from.
Twitter could be floating around in endlessly bouncing radio waves in the sky above our heads all the time, and never land on a hard drive until it is read by the individual user at Twitter. Something like that could explain why we are still slaves to the fake Corona Virus that is destroying the world. Still, no one has figured out that a small flame will kill the germs of a virus, it’s ludicrous to know that tens of millions of people can be so stupid not to know that.
The same small flame ignites the nitrous oxide carried by the terror army and that is why “The Science” can‘t figure it out.
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5:56 pm:
Local Conditions:
About 40 degrees F, overcast, absence of wind.
I went out for a walk in day time for the first time in a long time.
Maybe two weeks, maybe three weeks since I have gone outdoors in the day time.
So, at Monroe’s terror cell, there were the sounds that are consistent with a terror soldier exploding, the call it “Burst” and past tense is “Bursted”, so, I think a female was ignited when I used my Bic Lighter on my walk, and a few ducks at Monroe ran away from the area where the Bursting seems to have occurred near the road, in Monroe’s front yard. There is too much brush to see that far from my driveway.
(This part of this tumblr entry of eye-witness of terror attack is deleted, as ordered by the Josephine county courts Honorable Judge Brendon Thueson on 3-15-2021. It’s notable that two terror soldiers died in the courtroom that day, I am bound by the courts not to explain further. There is no investigation happening of any of the reported eye-witness of terrorism that I report here on tumblr in absence of conventional means to make reports of terror activities, murders, or knowledge of coup details. The terror is wide open, wide spread, unchallenged, ongoing, and has absolutely no resistance to it other that me. I am the only person fighting on behalf of USA as the citizens are lined up to be slaughtered by their captors.)
As I stepped over by my gate, and the female at Monroe’s seems to have bursted, that is when someone from Dietricks at 601 Jackpine did the Shark Maneuver, had been waiting all day, maybe all week for me to go outside, and was signaled to do the Shark Maneuver by terror soldiers with access to listening devices that are all around and inside of my house. Dietrick’s white Ford pick-up with a flat bed car hauling trailer went passed, as he is supposed to do when I go outside, that is done to scare me back into the house .... (Censored by the courts)
My guess is that the national security people have been told that I am at (Censored) Jackpine, but I am not there, I am at my own house where I have lived for the past twenty-four years, (censored by the courts) from the pansy that is fucking with me through some kind of internet hacking that he is doing right now and I am not going to hesitate when I (censored by the courts)
6:53 pm:
Assholes (censored by the courts) Jackpine were in my yard today, they were messing with a couple of car batteries I have outside, one is Orbital Brand, one is other brand of Dry Cell battery. They already know where those at at in my yard, that same terror cell has been at the same address before at a time before Stephen and Lindsey Bell moved in about nine years ago, ...
... (Censored by the courts) when the entire Social Security Administration has been hijacked for the past twenty years.
(The Josephine County Courts are made aware of this account from time to time in public settings, and behind the scenes the courts do everything they can do to prevent the information presented on this [email protected] account from being seen, read, responded to for stopping the terror take over of USA that is reported here. The means, language, weapons, goals, leadership, and other details of a global attack on citizens world wide is contained in this tumblr account, but the courts and others suppress the information, and prevent me from reaching US national security personnel by other means, the courts find ways to censor the reported terror take over of USA.)
(Please send help)
(edits in bold were done on 3-20-2021 at 3:49 pm)
========================================
7:27 pm:
Looks like the local SDA Church members on from GPCC (sounds like Jeepy see see when spoken) on Russell are all working some kind of bullshit terror scenario to fool someone. Someone came out of Phillips 507 Jackpine (Global British terror leadership) where I have not seen any one for about six months, and that vehicle, a van with bright light on a trailer hitch, went to 600 Jackpine where Taylors used to live, have not been seen around for more than one year, and that property is a alternate use secret entrance and exit into the Jackpine neighborhood through that GPCC church and to and from Russell road. Others at Strongs and at Sunflower are also involved in trying to fool someone, it’s obvious. That 507 activity was in tandem with someone going to Freeberg’s at 535 Jackpine, in Jay Freeberg’s car. That car came from Sunflower terror cell on Russell as I stepped outside, so that they could begin running their game to fool someone else, those national security people who have been convinced this account is a cover for an occasional drug deal of a few pills.
It happens all the time, the national security people always wind up in a snare at Monroe’s cut in half with a sword mounted to a skeet shooter, with a motion detector, and it resets itself... There are many witnessed explanations of that on this account.
The people who are fooling the national security, are illiterate, they don‘t read English, that might explain some of the weirdness they are experiencing, because all of them try to read what I write online, but only know how to read a few of the words.
=============
8:16 pm:
I’ve been outside a number of times tonight, there is some kind of psychotic terror scenario going on, many terror soldiers involved, they seem to be upset about that female that burst at Monroe’s earlier. Strong’s terror cell at 3747 Russell Road are making a lot of signaling to someone, so far, the signaling seems to say that the Safari African Lion(s) are outside, on the loose, and that means the Lion Handler is having some kind of problem, it also explains some of the noises I have been hearing tonight in the neighborhood.
One or more of these:
This is not some kind of secret code. It’s wild animal, has big teeth, sharp claws, can run real fast if it wants to, they don‘t usually want or need to run. The Safari Lions can easily jump over a six foot tall fence, and have no problems with leaping onto a roof of most houses. On a communication device, screaming you may hear when your foolish national security people are caught by a Safari terror cell African Lion, may be followed with a sound like a loud “Pop” sort of noise, as if a hollow block of wood is struck with a drum stick sort of sound, that is the sound that is made when the Lion “Pops” the victims head, as they are trained to do.
To make it more challenging, the Safari terror cell has the Lions fitted with Pixel Suit electronic camouflage, as I have explained over, and over again while trying to get some help to arrive, but only assassins and fools show up.
One more time: The Lion wearing the Pixel Suit is very dangerous to encounter in Oregon while walking to the mailboxes. The only thing visible is the Lions tail and only the front part of their faces. and their paws. But the paws are also made not to show very easily somehow, I don’t know, maybe they are painted dark color.
Don‘t run from an African Lion. Stand your ground, and don‘t move.
I suspect the Safari Lions are being kept inside of the houses on Jackpine and are moved from one place to another regularly. The Lions are treated poorly, are tools, kept inside of small places until they are needed.
==========================================
February 16, 2021: 3:23 pm: Extra:
For investigation and follow up paper trail of murder associated to medical service providers since 2005 to my knowledge, probably longer:
Gabapentin
Metaxalone
Gabapentin is marketed as a pain reliever, one the works at the nervous system.
It does not work, is fake, a placebo, or some other bullshit.
When a patient goes to a doctor, or has a surgical procedure, there are digital record keeping that follows everyone who has ever gone to see a doctor. The information on the mandated digital record keeping goes way beyond health related matters, and the persons social security number is what drives the digital record keeping that was mandated by SAG leaders at the US congress many years ago, the days of a personal “Chart“ ended, and a new digital system was mandated, every medical provider was forced to comply with the mandate to go digital with patient records.
So, the record keeping is connected digitally to many places. The service provider, the Social Security Administration, and the insurance company are a few of the places that are updated with each doctor visit, and, those places are digitally informed in real-time when a patient goes to see a health service provider.
With that in mind, and add that the doctors are all fake now, the real ones are held captive or have been killed, and, the Social Security Administration is occupied and under control of SAG terror cell leadership. With that knowledge, now consider particular medication prescriptions, one’s like Gabapentin.
Gabapentin is prescribed by a SAG terror doctor to a patient who is said to have been marked for take out for having “talked or gabbed” about terrorism in the medical fields. The doctor looks at the medical digital chart, sees that “On-High” leadership at Sinatra SAG HQ, has marked that person for take-out, the hit order is done with coding in the digital charts, so, the doctor uses the patient to spread the word of the hit order by prescribing Gabapentin to the patient. When the patient goes to fill a prescription for Gabapentin, that is the same as hand carrying their own hit contract from the doctor to the terror cell at the pharmacies, who are also part of the patient’s digital chart. When the pharmacy see’s the Gabapentin, they know that the patient was marked, and the hit order is fresh, and active. The pharmacies make arrangements to SDA terror cells to study the victim, then make the hit, which includes the the victims are captured and tortured before they are killed in order for the terror army to gain access to assets, and contact information of extended family members, who are also tracked down and killed the same way.
The doctors are fake, are actors, but are VIP’s in the terrorism. They are protected with much cover by the terror army in many ways.
So, to find dead US citizens, follow the Gabapentin.
Same is true with Metaxalone muscle relaxer prescriptions.
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IDLIB, Syria -- Before the war in Syria, Idlib city, with its tree-lined avenues and white-stone buildings, was known for its calm, provincial air.Today it overflows with families who fled the war in other parts of Syria, swelling the population to nearly 1 million people.Some shelter in bombed-out buildings. Those who can't find shelter are camped in the soccer stadium, and more line up outside for food handouts.Residents are so used to the shelling that no one even flinches at the sound of an explosion.But for Syria's last rebel-held city the worst is yet to come.To the north, nearly 1 million people are living along roadsides and in olive groves in what is already one of the worst humanitarian disasters of Syria's brutal nine-year war.To the south and east, Syrian government forces backed by Russian warplanes are closing in, now just 5 miles away. When they reach Idlib city, its million residents are likely to flee, doubling the number of displaced people in the north.Dr. Hikmat al-Khatib, an orthopedic surgeon, urged his parents to move to a town to the north. But when it was bombed his mother decided to stay put."Her words shocked me," al-Khatib said. "The only choice is to wait for death."I made a rare visit into Idlib with a photographer and interpreter on Wednesday, crossing the border from Turkey. We were accompanied by relief workers of a Syrian charity and members of a jihadist rebel group, Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, which controls the province.We found 100 families camped in the stadium, which has been converted into an emergency shelter.Amina Sahloul was sitting on the floor around a stove in a large underground room for women and children. She had arrived hours earlier, after fleeing her village in the dead of night, clinging with her five grandchildren behind her son on a single motorcycle."We came away because of the airstrikes," she said. "They started dropping cluster bombs. It was like fire raining in the sky."There has been no letup for the people of Idlib province as the forces of President Bashar Assad of Syria, backed by Russian air power, have smashed their way forward, demolishing towns and villages in the south and east of the province with punishing airstrikes.A cease-fire declared Thursday by Turkey, which backs Syrian opposition forces, and Russia, which backs the Syrian government, seemed to be holding on Friday but few believe it will last. Assad has insisted he will continue his offensive to retake Idlib province, and rebel groups have vowed to resist.At the soccer stadium, as word came across the radio that Russian planes were near, tension rose as people nervously scanned the skies.Earlier that day, when an artillery shell slammed into a nearby neighborhood, few people even looked up. The Syrian government fires rockets all the time.But when Russian planes begin a concerted assault, they use overwhelming force, laying down lines of repressive fire that force people to run for their lives with only minutes to get away."Whenever I hear planes I start running like crazy, I lose my mind," Hassan Yousufi said as he paced angrily around the men's shelter in the stadium. "I lived beside the highway for 45 years. I memorized the Quran and was just biding my own life. My brother was killed. The Russians bombed us."Outside of the stadium, life is on a war footing. The streets are busy with cars and motorcycles and women walk together in the main shopping street, but the city has only two hours of electricity a day and boys sell gasoline in plastic jerrycans on street corners.Idlib province has been free from government control for the length of the war and today is largely controlled by Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, the rebel group. But there were few armed fighters in sight in Idlib city, the provincial capital, on Wednesday.Police officers loyal to the opposition stand guard outside the governor's office and the police station which still bear the scars of fighting from the first days of the revolution.Billboards around the city bear glossy posters of uniformed rebel fighters, calling on people to join the fight."It is your turn to heed the call," reads one. "There is no honor without jihad," urges another, beside a military checkpoint.Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, or HTS, has been designated a terrorist group by the United Nations but recently allowed Western journalists into Idlib in cooperation with Turkey, which has wanted to build international pressure against Russia and Syria.On the front lines to the south and east, the rebels, by their own account, have taken a pounding."In the last one-and-a-half months we had a collapse," said Abu Ahmed Muhammad, an HTS spokesman. But he added that the Syrian government had lost many more soldiers than the opposition had, and had to bring in Iranian-backed fighters to retake the strategic town of Saraqib, which has changed hands several times in the last two weeks.Hours before Russia and Turkey agreed to the cease-fire, he warned that nothing would come of it."Both sides will escalate," he said "We in the HTS factions will never accept to de-escalate because the Russians are on top and they may not agree to a peace settlement."But most of the province's three million people are civilians, and they are desperate for an end to the violence. They cling to the hope that Turkey's growing deployment of troops into the province will stop the onslaught."Anything that makes us feel secure or takes the regime away from us is a very good thing," said Abdul Razzaq, the head of the emergency relief for the Syrian charity, Violet. His teams were still helping people flee villages on the front line and preparing in case of a mass evacuation of the city. "But Idlib city is huge and where to take them?" he said.An hour's drive north of the city, blue and white tents pockmark the rocky hillsides and olive groves of the border area. Camps for thousands of displaced families sprouted up from the early days of the war and over the years have turned into settlements of concrete-block housing, built with foreign assistance.Hundreds of thousands more people have joined them in the last six weeks, pitching tents beside the roads and among the rocky limestone outcrops in a densely crowded strip along the Turkish border. Families are sheltering in mosques and schools, empty stores and factories.Even those are not safe. A woman who gave her name as Umm Abdul fled her village three months ago and took refuge with her family in an old brick factory outside the town of Maaret Misrin. On Monday, she was out picking herbs with two of her children when she heard a sound like birds and looked up to see two missiles tumbling out of the sky toward her."I lay the kids on the ground and covered them with my body," she said. "They say if you lie down you don't get hit by shrapnel."She was knocked unconscious and her 18-month-old daughter was wounded but all three survived.At an emergency shelter near the Turkish border, Alia Abras, 37, pushed forward to speak. "Do you know the meaning of displacement?" she asked. "You are like stray dogs."Rescuers took two-and-a-half hours to dig her and her three children out of the rubble of their home in the town of Ariha a month ago, she said. It was the middle of the night but they were left on the street beside their ruined home because there were others still to be rescued. The whole neighborhood around the main hospital had been hit."We spent two days sitting in the street," she said until Violet's rescue team found them and brought them to the shelter, which houses 45 families in a shopping center in the town of Sarmada."I wish I had died under the ruins and my children with me," she said. "We lost everything my husband and I spent our lives building up. We are at zero."In a camp called Al Nasr, new arrivals have pitched tents just yards from the concrete wall topped with rolls of barbed wire that marks the Turkish border. Some are already building breeze-block houses on a hill facing Turkey.Four families were squeezed into one tent set up on top of the camp sewer. They had no other option, they said. Behind the tent, sewage drained down the hill into a fetid pool."No one else would take it," said Hannah al-Mijan, a farmworker and mother of seven. "We do not have money to build."The family had been displaced twice and without work they had fallen into debt. "We are below zero," she said. Her husband, Muhammad, shushed her, telling her not to shame them.This time they chose to live within 100 yards of the border wall. Were they not scared that this place would also be bombed?Al-Mijan shook her head, and gestured at the hill opposite. "That's Turkey," she said.This article originally appeared in The New York Times.(C) 2020 The New York Times Company
https://ift.tt/2vEqQYy
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IDLIB, Syria -- Before the war in Syria, Idlib city, with its tree-lined avenues and white-stone buildings, was known for its calm, provincial air.Today it overflows with families who fled the war in other parts of Syria, swelling the population to nearly 1 million people.Some shelter in bombed-out buildings. Those who can't find shelter are camped in the soccer stadium, and more line up outside for food handouts.Residents are so used to the shelling that no one even flinches at the sound of an explosion.But for Syria's last rebel-held city the worst is yet to come.To the north, nearly 1 million people are living along roadsides and in olive groves in what is already one of the worst humanitarian disasters of Syria's brutal nine-year war.To the south and east, Syrian government forces backed by Russian warplanes are closing in, now just 5 miles away. When they reach Idlib city, its million residents are likely to flee, doubling the number of displaced people in the north.Dr. Hikmat al-Khatib, an orthopedic surgeon, urged his parents to move to a town to the north. But when it was bombed his mother decided to stay put."Her words shocked me," al-Khatib said. "The only choice is to wait for death."I made a rare visit into Idlib with a photographer and interpreter on Wednesday, crossing the border from Turkey. We were accompanied by relief workers of a Syrian charity and members of a jihadist rebel group, Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, which controls the province.We found 100 families camped in the stadium, which has been converted into an emergency shelter.Amina Sahloul was sitting on the floor around a stove in a large underground room for women and children. She had arrived hours earlier, after fleeing her village in the dead of night, clinging with her five grandchildren behind her son on a single motorcycle."We came away because of the airstrikes," she said. "They started dropping cluster bombs. It was like fire raining in the sky."There has been no letup for the people of Idlib province as the forces of President Bashar Assad of Syria, backed by Russian air power, have smashed their way forward, demolishing towns and villages in the south and east of the province with punishing airstrikes.A cease-fire declared Thursday by Turkey, which backs Syrian opposition forces, and Russia, which backs the Syrian government, seemed to be holding on Friday but few believe it will last. Assad has insisted he will continue his offensive to retake Idlib province, and rebel groups have vowed to resist.At the soccer stadium, as word came across the radio that Russian planes were near, tension rose as people nervously scanned the skies.Earlier that day, when an artillery shell slammed into a nearby neighborhood, few people even looked up. The Syrian government fires rockets all the time.But when Russian planes begin a concerted assault, they use overwhelming force, laying down lines of repressive fire that force people to run for their lives with only minutes to get away."Whenever I hear planes I start running like crazy, I lose my mind," Hassan Yousufi said as he paced angrily around the men's shelter in the stadium. "I lived beside the highway for 45 years. I memorized the Quran and was just biding my own life. My brother was killed. The Russians bombed us."Outside of the stadium, life is on a war footing. The streets are busy with cars and motorcycles and women walk together in the main shopping street, but the city has only two hours of electricity a day and boys sell gasoline in plastic jerrycans on street corners.Idlib province has been free from government control for the length of the war and today is largely controlled by Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, the rebel group. But there were few armed fighters in sight in Idlib city, the provincial capital, on Wednesday.Police officers loyal to the opposition stand guard outside the governor's office and the police station which still bear the scars of fighting from the first days of the revolution.Billboards around the city bear glossy posters of uniformed rebel fighters, calling on people to join the fight."It is your turn to heed the call," reads one. "There is no honor without jihad," urges another, beside a military checkpoint.Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, or HTS, has been designated a terrorist group by the United Nations but recently allowed Western journalists into Idlib in cooperation with Turkey, which has wanted to build international pressure against Russia and Syria.On the front lines to the south and east, the rebels, by their own account, have taken a pounding."In the last one-and-a-half months we had a collapse," said Abu Ahmed Muhammad, an HTS spokesman. But he added that the Syrian government had lost many more soldiers than the opposition had, and had to bring in Iranian-backed fighters to retake the strategic town of Saraqib, which has changed hands several times in the last two weeks.Hours before Russia and Turkey agreed to the cease-fire, he warned that nothing would come of it."Both sides will escalate," he said "We in the HTS factions will never accept to de-escalate because the Russians are on top and they may not agree to a peace settlement."But most of the province's three million people are civilians, and they are desperate for an end to the violence. They cling to the hope that Turkey's growing deployment of troops into the province will stop the onslaught."Anything that makes us feel secure or takes the regime away from us is a very good thing," said Abdul Razzaq, the head of the emergency relief for the Syrian charity, Violet. His teams were still helping people flee villages on the front line and preparing in case of a mass evacuation of the city. "But Idlib city is huge and where to take them?" he said.An hour's drive north of the city, blue and white tents pockmark the rocky hillsides and olive groves of the border area. Camps for thousands of displaced families sprouted up from the early days of the war and over the years have turned into settlements of concrete-block housing, built with foreign assistance.Hundreds of thousands more people have joined them in the last six weeks, pitching tents beside the roads and among the rocky limestone outcrops in a densely crowded strip along the Turkish border. Families are sheltering in mosques and schools, empty stores and factories.Even those are not safe. A woman who gave her name as Umm Abdul fled her village three months ago and took refuge with her family in an old brick factory outside the town of Maaret Misrin. On Monday, she was out picking herbs with two of her children when she heard a sound like birds and looked up to see two missiles tumbling out of the sky toward her."I lay the kids on the ground and covered them with my body," she said. "They say if you lie down you don't get hit by shrapnel."She was knocked unconscious and her 18-month-old daughter was wounded but all three survived.At an emergency shelter near the Turkish border, Alia Abras, 37, pushed forward to speak. "Do you know the meaning of displacement?" she asked. "You are like stray dogs."Rescuers took two-and-a-half hours to dig her and her three children out of the rubble of their home in the town of Ariha a month ago, she said. It was the middle of the night but they were left on the street beside their ruined home because there were others still to be rescued. The whole neighborhood around the main hospital had been hit."We spent two days sitting in the street," she said until Violet's rescue team found them and brought them to the shelter, which houses 45 families in a shopping center in the town of Sarmada."I wish I had died under the ruins and my children with me," she said. "We lost everything my husband and I spent our lives building up. We are at zero."In a camp called Al Nasr, new arrivals have pitched tents just yards from the concrete wall topped with rolls of barbed wire that marks the Turkish border. Some are already building breeze-block houses on a hill facing Turkey.Four families were squeezed into one tent set up on top of the camp sewer. They had no other option, they said. Behind the tent, sewage drained down the hill into a fetid pool."No one else would take it," said Hannah al-Mijan, a farmworker and mother of seven. "We do not have money to build."The family had been displaced twice and without work they had fallen into debt. "We are below zero," she said. Her husband, Muhammad, shushed her, telling her not to shame them.This time they chose to live within 100 yards of the border wall. Were they not scared that this place would also be bombed?Al-Mijan shook her head, and gestured at the hill opposite. "That's Turkey," she said.This article originally appeared in The New York Times.(C) 2020 The New York Times Company
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