SUPER BOWL SUNDAY by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

SUPER BOWL SUNDAY
by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

O’ the excitement, waiting for the game to start;
Mingling, joking, pounding heart.
People from everywhere are filling the stands;
The cheering, the praying, ever-present loyal fans.
They're here with all their being for their favorite teams,
Those brave Fearless Warriors who strive beyond our screams.
Listen to all the shouts and the banging of the drums,
A concert of sounds together, so much greater than their sums.
This is truly war drama - this cacophonous din;
Remove your masks; take off your cloaks, the clash will soon begin.
There’s something uniquely magical about this game;
We become what we were, we are not the same.
In an instant, we’re back to familiar distant lands
With no painted lines, rules, or stands.
As we look back through the timeless haze,
Our same Fearless Warriors are before our gaze.
The fears, the hopes, the cries, the cheers,
The agonies, the losses, the tears, still here.
But for love of our Fearless Warriors we had to change it all;
So we invented controlled battle and we called it FOOTBALL.
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"ROCKY OF KAGNEW STATION" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

REFEREE: Rich "OC" O'Conner, BOXERS: Gardiner vs. Hill

HOW WE HATED THEM; HOW THEY HATED US!

Kagnew Station, Asmara, Eritrea, Ethiopia, East Africa, of the 1950s was clearly divided between two opposing camps: The Guards and Operations. We hated one another! Why? We didn't know; it's just the way things always were. There was fierce competition in all things: softball, basketball, seating arrangements at the Oasis NCO Club; even standing in line outside Cathy's, Asmara's resident nymphomaniac.

In time, this competitive spirit, on both sides, began reducing itself to its lowest common denominator - Two Men - champions of the respective combative spirits of the Guards and "The Girls of Operations," as we guards would derisively call them.

Each side would have to choose a champion from among their ranks to represent them in a boxing match, to be held at the Oasis, to settle, once and for all, who would become the dominant faction of Kagnew Station - the "Alpha Male Guards" or "The Girls of Operations."

A boxing match had never been held before at Kagnew Station. It just wasn't the way things were done in an elitist branch of the military, such as the Army Security Agency. But, Necessity cannot be denied! A Championship Match had to be staged; there was nothing on heaven or earth that could prevent its inevitable occurrence.

In a process of distillation, both sides began eliminating potential contenders until, at last, each had discovered their Champion in their midst. Ultimately chosen to be Champion for the Guards was John Hill, a Guard who hailed from Mineola, New York.

John was an unusually well-physiqued, powerfully built, handsome in a John Derek sort of way, a young man of about 19 or 20 years of age. He was affectionately sobriqueted "Jack Palance" and/or "Punchy" by his friends.

"The Girls of Operations" also found their Champion from among their ranks.

Little was known about who he was, where he came from, what his fighting abilities were. He was a mystery to everyone. However, it was becoming more and more clear that he was a Ringer as the arrogance and officious attitudes of "The Girls" became even more demonstrative.

They believed they had blindly suckered us into something; that they had outsmarted us. They were drooling at the mouth in anticipation of the humiliating revenge their obviously very experienced Champion would exact upon the Guards.

We Guards became very apprehensive. Where was the sense of fairness in this thing? Instead of seeing our Champion as “kicking ass,” we now knew that our Champion was, in fact, the Underdog.

Knowing this, the officers of Kagnew Station were adamant that this Boxing Match between Hill and "Ringer" must NOT occur. It was against regulations; it violated every code of gentlemanly conduct; this barbarism was not to take place.

But Necessity would not be denied. No amount of resistance would deter either side from the resolution of their Will.

John Hill, to his credit, was imperturbable. While all about him his friends were panicking, he remained very calm and self-confident. He seemed to know something we didn't; he knew "John Hill."

Finally, it came to this: the event would be held at the Old Oasis NCO Club. There was to be no publicity surrounding the fight in order to keep crowds at a minimum. The fewer people that knew about this infraction of military decorum, the better. After endless pleadings, compromises, and assurances, what was so frustratingly awaited, finally arrived:

FIGHT NIGHT AT THE OASIS

Automobiles and Gharry Carts were parked along the streets leading to the Oasis for well over a mile. Lines of people of every ethnicity imaginable were jockeying for position to get inside the Oasis for the chance to witness the Big Showdown.

Inside, the Ring was set up on the Dance Floor. Every seat was taken; people were jammed packed on the stage, standing on tables; trying anything and everything to gain a viewing advantage. The cigarette and cigar smoke that filled the room was a carcinogenic miasma that only added to the excitement and anticipation that permeated the atmosphere and held all of us firmly in its grip; Guards on one side of the room, everyone else on the other.

Stationed outside was an Eritrean whose function it was to relay progress reports to the hundreds who could not gain entrance to the fight. The Referee, who was also the Announcer, called for calm among the drunken, screaming, profanity-shouting spectators.

After what seemed an eternity, a hush fell over the room as the Ref-Nouncer began to introduce the Fighters. Both looked evenly matched for height and weight, and in extremely good shape for the fight.

First introduced was the Ringer of Operations. The Guards went insane, cursing trilingually in English, Italian, and Eritrean: “Boo!” “Fuck you, you pieces of shit!” Get fucking lost, you fucking pansies!” “Bafongoola!” “Mange cozzo!” “Atti attawa!” “Eat my fucking ass!”

Oh, we were creative profaners without peer. We were soldiers, after all.

John Hill was introduced next. The cheers and foot-stomping from the Guards must have hit 7.9 on the Richter scale as we drowned out the pathetic “Boo’s” and “Raspberries” of “The Girls.” This went on without lull, hushed only by the Sound of the Bell signaling the start of

ROUND NUMBER ONE

Both fighters charged to the center of the Ring. The Ringer lived up to his name. He had that style and grace that revealed him to be exactly what he was - an experienced well-conditioned boxer. A sharp right jab caught John dead on the nose and snapped his head back.

Bloodied, it looked like it might be over for John before it began. His disbelieving, mouth-gaping cornermen looked for all the world like they were ready to throw in the towel.

Sensing the “kill” was at hand, “The Girls” were out of control, reeking of Schadenfreude. But John had a heart that was fighting for something none of us could really understand. He was fighting for John, the Inner John; he was not going to be denied his right to be his own man. He was possessed with an indomitable will to go forward, to overcome this adversary that dared to stand before him. This was no longer a Boxing Match; this was a Street Fight of the No Holds Barred kind. We began to see John for who he truly was: “John, the New York Kid!”

The fight quickly degraded into the only real fighting John ever knew - the  “Don’t come home, unless you’re either dead or a winner!” kind of fight, that was the “Street Law” imposed by New York fathers on their sons.

Oh, John was a Champion! There was no denying that. How we admired the courage of our Champion.

The unqualified, frantic and confused, Ref-Nouncer had lost control over what was taking place in the Ring, almost from the beginning.

The Spectators were hoarse from screaming, encouraging, pleading, praying, many were in tears.

After two eternal minutes, two agonizing minutes of bone-crushing body blows, blows violating every Rule the Marquis of Queensbury formulated to gentlemanize this barbaric sport of settlement of differences, the Bell mercifully rang, giving us Spectators a brief moment to collapse in our seats, catch our breaths, and lower our heartbeats.

The castigating internecine epithets had become silent as we all fearfully, anxiously awaited that most dreaded, terrifying of all sounds, the Ring of the Bell, signaling the start of

ROUND NUMBER TWO

It was horrible; it was wonderful; it was a brutally beautiful ballet of barbarism at its best. Boom! Boom! Boom! There was scarcely a space between the staccato sounds of sharp punches, snapping jabs, rib breaking hooks, jaw smashing uppercuts, head butts, vicious in-fighting, a non-stop exchange reminiscent of the eternal Battle for Dominance that has attended Mankind since the Dawn of Existence.

This was poetry manifest. These were the words that have never been spoken; the words that do not exist to describe the savage essence of what we truly are. Without warning, as quickly as Round Two had begun, the Bell Rang; the fury before us stopped, leaving us in stunned silence, unabashedly in awe at what we had just witnessed.

The Spectators now saw something in each of the Combatants that was ignored before the fight – Heart, Courage, Wills of Iron, the Balls to go out there before One and All and be the Men that others wish they could be, but were not, and never could be.

Something new had entered this arena, this Court of Violence. “The Girls of Operations,” those not in the Ring; the Guards, those not in the Ring, were realizing that they shared a common bond they didn’t know existed between them – RESPECT FOR THE HERO!

They all began to look at one another differently; their Collective Consciousness in a higher place. When the Bell sounded for its final knell, they melded into One Voice, One Spectator, cheering, applauding, praising, loving, those ordinary men who rose to greatness before our eyes, as they so courageously, now each seeing themselves in the Other, walked to the Center of the Ring, touched gloves, to begin the

THIRD AND FINAL ROUND

No one who was there that night will ever forget that Glorious Ending. It was pure Pandemonium exacerbated by its confinement to a 16 X 16 foot roped prison.

How could they continue taking and giving this extraordinary punishing effort?

Both fighters appeared renewed in spirit. It was obvious that neither one was willing to shrink back one iota. A Win by Decision was not an option. It was Knock Out or be Knocked Out!

Both fighters reached deep inside themselves to find that secret strength that only True Champions possess; that “I Will Not Quit!” “I Will Win No Matter What!” “My Last Will Be My Best!” “I Will Be Victorious!” kind of Strength.

The Spectators were spellbound by the unrelenting violence. They were as birds transfixed hypnotically by the seductive presence of the snake. Who could look away? How we all wanted to look away from this Horrific, Beautiful, Poetic, Macabre, Grand Guignol that was playing before us.

But we were its slaves. Blow after crushing blow, delivered by each fighter to the other, contorted their faces into grotesque masks of Pain. Their last would be their best. They were no longer who they were. They had become something new, something great, something magnificent; they had become more than men at this moment.

The dross of mere mortal existence was burned away in the Fire of this noblest of confrontations.

At last, exhausted, spiritual and physical tanks emptied, they collapsed in Brotherly embrace, sharing mutual respect reserved only for those who have walked the Path of Champions, as

THE ENDING BELL SOUNDED

As we awaited the decision, opinions as to the outcome were as numerous as the numbers of people in attendance. There could only be one decision.

IT WAS A DRAW!

But someone did win that fight that night. It was all of us at Kagnew Station. It was no longer “Us” and “Them.” It was now “We!” We became friends; we began to socialize with one another; we shared common interests; we began to really like one another’s company.

WE BECAME FRIENDS!

We learned something from our Champions, our representatives of dispute resolution: “It is possible to turn our enemies into friends and to turn our friends into brothers.”

Little did we, of the 1950’s era realize, then, that we were setting the stage for a New Kagnew Station that was coming; a wonderful new Kagnew Station, a more civilized Kagnew Station, a Kagnew Station upon which all of us now look back fondly, as an Island of Happy Memories set high among the Clouds in that unforgettable Garden Spot of East Africa.

ALL THINGS CHANGE AND WE CHANGE WITH THEM by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

ALL THINGS CHANGE AND WE CHANGE WITH THEM


I first lifeguarded at age 17 on Joline Avenue Beach, in the Summer of 1954.

Years later, in the 1960s, I became Long Branch's Chief Lifeguard and along with Dick Martin, Takanasee Beach Club Guard; Phil Huhn, Long Branch Beach Captain; Greg Farry, Beach Director, Bradley Beach, founded the Jersey Shore Lifesaving Association.

During my tenure, I witnessed a dramatic change in the integrity of our Ocean.

I remember, in the mid-1950s, there was an exquisitely-featured, darling girl of purest innocence, a LBHS classmate of mine, perhaps age 16 or 17, at the bloom of perfection in her beauty who, alone at night, would run down a long flight of wooden stairs to the unfootprinted sand below the bluffs, cast off her nightgown to stand naked upon the strand of the beach, where wave after wave would kiss the shore, then retreat back to an ocean sparkling with the diamonds of reflected stars.

How she must have delighted in the feel of the tiny sand crabs the waves left behind; they would scramble about her feet and tickle her toes, causing her to laugh that happy child's laugh that is the most beautiful of all music to God's ears; she would then joyously plunge, carefree, into the welcoming surf that was once our First Home.

Yesterday's dream has become today's nightmare. Now, when they report safe swimming conditions at the Jersey Shore, it's always announced in terms of "acceptable fecal content level." In other words, how much shit are you willing to swim in?

Who, in their right mind would eat any seafood caught or harvested in these waters, filled with raw sewage, rotting garbage, and deadly toxins from every kind of chemical company imaginable. We'll soon be gasping for air in direct proportion to the disappearance of Plankton, our primary source of oxygen, from our seas.

I have also personally witnessed in my lifetime the Shrewsbury River, my childhood playground, a river of beautiful crystal clear water, teeming with aquatic life of such vibrancy and health, transmogrify into a cesspool of putrefaction, that can no longer freeze over in winter.

The Norman Rockwellian joys of ice boating and ice skating at Branchport to Pleasure Bay, which once thrilled us as we played upon our real-life canvas, have been supplanted by filth, disease, sludge, grime, and muck.

The time has come to Pay the Piper for dishonoring our Great Mother. We never listened to the protests of the dolphins, whales, and other sentient mammals that inhabit our seas when they sacrificed themselves upon our shores in an effort to bring attention to what was being done to them.

Fools, believing they were assisting fellow mammals, drove those poor, sick and dying creatures back into the very poison from which they fled.

The world we once knew has changed and is currently undergoing a kind of mitosis, politically, economically, sociologically and most importantly, ecologically.

There is a feeling of helplessness, that there is nothing anyone can do about it.

In this realm of Quantum Non-Separability in which we inhabit and are inextricably bound up with one another, we believe that we can control events and circumstances before they go too far, when, in fact, there are anonymous Established Forces which have set us upon a "Deva Yama," i.e., a Path of No Return, beyond the Tipping Point, as it were.

We now find ourselves, standing on the bluffs above the "Plains of Kurukshetra," overlooking the place where the last Fight to the Death will take place. Warriors throughout the world are dividing into two camps in preparation for this Final Battle.

We have only two choices before us now: 1. To accept an ignominious, cowardly, Darfurian type death; the T.S. Eliotonian prediction that we will yield to the forces of extinction with a "whimper;" or 2. We can pick up the Sword and fight the noble and honorable fight of Warriors, where God's Will is glorified by Arjunian men of valor; those Dylan Thomasian noble knights who would rather "Rage against the Dying of the Light" than "go gentle into that good night."

LOCKER ROOM BEFORE THE GAME by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

LOCKER ROOM BEFORE THE GAME 

by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

C’mon Team! You know what you’ve got to do!
The only ones that can beat us are you and you and you.
The secret is in your practice because that’s the way you’ll play;
Commit well your mind and body and you’ll shine this Saturday.
Forget every game you’ve ever lost or ever won before;
What’s done is done and the past is passed, we cannot change the score.
Your teammate needs your encouragement now; he doesn’t need your blame;
‘Cause he’s the guy beside you when it’s time to play the game.
There’s more to pride than winning, more to character than cheers;
It’s putting yourself on the line and playing in spite of your fears.
Give your hand to your teammate; look him squarely in the eye;
Tell him that you won’t let him down, that you’ll never fail to try.
This is your time together; you’re the only ones playing these games;
Everyone else is on the sidelines; who’s going to remember their names?
But you will never forget one another, not for as long as you shall live.
Will your teammates say about you, “He gave all that he could give!”?

I BELIEVE THE IMPOSSIBLE IS POSSIBLE by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

I BELIEVE THE IMPOSSIBLE IS POSSIBLE
by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

I first saw him struggling against the wind and snow;
As I was driving down Brighton some years ago.
Never knew him; never knew his name;
Just some guy who was obviously lame.
The more I saw him, though we never spoke;
It was clearly evident he had suffered a stroke.
Face contorted; head to the side;
Fighting so bravely to improve his stride.
No matter the weather, he would take that walk;
We passed each other often now, but did not talk.
Day after day, week after week;
I so admired his courage, why did we not speak?
Brighton Bridge fell last winter’s big rain;
I never saw his struggles again.
This morning as I drove over the Ridge,
To cross the repaired Brighton Avenue Bridge,
I saw someone running the Uphill Mile;
He was waving at me with the biggest smile.
The closer he came, the more I could see,
That he was about to say something to me.
“Good Morning! How are you today, Jim?”
"My God," I thought, "It’s Him; it’s Him!"

FORGETTING, OUR GREAT SHAME; DENYING, OUR GREAT SIN.

THE FORGOTTEN MERCHANT MARINE
by Walter Drew

Over a half-century has passed and we've yet to be told.
About the men on the ships who carried more than their load.

The first Americans to die even before the war was declared,
Loving fathers and sons, hardly any were spared.

More seamen perished, more than any other branch it is said.
One seaman out of thirty-two gave his life and is now dead.

Yet children lost fathers and mothers lost sons.
Wives lost their husbands before the conflict was won.

No military honors were bestowed on these men.
No mention of heroism was ever told to their kin.

No parades or open arms met them back home.
Only ridicule and scorn and sarcasm the tone.

That dark cloud of disrespect still hangs and it looms.
It has taken over fifty years to try to heal these wounds.

Yet loved ones still mourn and the injured still ache.
They have given up wondering if this is some kind of mistake.

The scars still remain, the story is untold.
They ask not for themselves the honor to be bestowed.

They ask for their comrades who gave their lives to the ocean.
So their relatives at home can remember them with devotion.



THE LONELIEST DEAD
by M.C. Middlebrooks

They are the loneliest dead who rest beneath the waves
In graves unmarked, unknown. The bugle's soft farewell,

As taps say, "We remember", touches not their sleep.
Why should the forgotten listen to its poignant, haunting spell?

Where the white lines of crosses lie in ordered rows,
The fields are green and cherished, each cross bears a name,

Identifying valor and honoring its repose --
A land has pledged itself these dead shall live in fame.

But the long, slow convoys that grimly took
Their losses so that some might batter through

Sailed in quiet and secrecy; their dead may look
In vain for a salute from those who never knew.

Yet when the bugle blares the call for that last review,
And the great regiments sweep past the mighty dead,

Grouped round Washington, bearing flags that flew
On every battlefield where patriots' blood was shed.

Will the weary thousands in tattered dungarees
Hang back ignored as they have been so long?

No. Eyes that have seen their country driven nigh its knees
And led it back to victory can judge that silent throng.

They shall march to a tune that has the deep slow beat
Of waves on a rocky shore, their banner shall proudly bead

The legend, "We held the balance 'twixt victory and defeat,
But when our armies needed them, the goods were there."

DON'T FEAR THE THUNDER by Steve Savage

Two, often three times per day, Four Humvees would exit from the sanctuary, such as it was, of their Forward Operating Base, to play the deadly Game of IED Roulette and RPG Lottery. Before them, standing by the Gate, at the start of each deadly Roll of the Dice, was Evil, displayed in all His loathsome malevolence in the guise of Printed Words Upon A Sign: "TODAY MAY BE YOUR TURN TO DIE!" The Twenty-four year old Platoon Leader, a young man, cast in the role of Strong, Heroic Father Figure to the even younger men who accompanied him into Hell's Blackest Darkness; that Grotto of Fear, filled with Death's deafening roar of Threatening Thunder, placed reassuring hands upon the shoulders of these dear frightened children as they sobbed out through their tears, "Oh Lieutenant! I'm so afraid!"

"I, too, am afraid." said the Lieutenant, "But don't fear the Thunder; we know it's Lightning that does the damage!"

The Four Humvees would then bravely venture forth into the Unknown; each filled with a precious cargo whose Strength and Courage is their Love for those who stayed behind, who can only Hope and Pray that "It is Our Son who will come back unharmed."

Thank You, Our Beloved Sons of America; God Bless You For Your Courage.

(Dedicated in loving, respectful tribute to all Our Sons of America, who have ever fought for, are fighting for, and will continue to fight for, the freedom, safety, and security of we, who are their loved ones, especially to: Daniel Burch Anton, Gene "Gomer" Corley, LT. Harris, Bill “Chief” Helmsley, Eric V. Jablonski, Mitchell Padgett, “Scotty,” Dannie Taylor, and all those, who are of us, who chose to place themselves in harm's way in Defense of the American Principle
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"THE FIGHTING MAN"
through Steve Savage

There is a man who walks among us, the most respected of us all;
He is not the politician nor the guy who bats a ball.
He is not the teacher or doctor, the scientist nor the priest;
And certainly not the critic, that pusillanimous beast.
No! It is the Man of True Authority, the One we love and revere;
The One who reigns in His own Light, the One we hold so dear.
Cowards honor the diplomat, whose words inspire flight,
Substituting dishonorable wrong in place of honorable right.
We are for that Fighting Man, that One who is standing tall,
Whose courage, strength, and love for us brings Freedom to us all.
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We Guards of the '50's, who served at Kagnew Station, Asmara, Eritrea, Ethiopia, were not trained as Military Police Officers. We were Infantry MOS. Generously punctuated among our ranks were men who proudly displayed the Combat Infantryman's Badge, which they were awarded for so heroically engaging America's enemies in the Korean Conflict. Some had even received Purple Hearts, Bronze Stars, and Silver Stars. It has taken 50 years of retrospection to appreciate within the depths of our souls, the unbelievable sacrifice that these men made for America. They were modest men who never spoke of their courage under fire. To us, they were just "Chief," Scotty," "Lt. Harris," and other familiar appellations which somehow masked what noble men they were who walked among us. This a tribute to these men.

(For those Guards of the '50's, if you can recall the names of those heroes of our time, or if any Guards have, or have had, sons who served in combat, please e-mail their names to me so I can list them on my Blog; not to honor them, because it is they who have honored us, but to somehow let their spirits know that we who remain, have not forgotten.)

KUNG FU QUOTES compiled by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

"If a man dwells on the past, then he robs the present; but if a man ignores the past, he may rob the future. The seeds of our destiny are nurtured by the roots of our past." -- Master Po

"Deal with evil from strength, but affirm the good in man through trust. In this way, we are prepared for evil, but we encourage good." -- Master Kahn

"And is good a great reward for trusting?" -- Young Caine

"In striving for an ideal, we do not seek rewards. Yet trust does sometimes bring with it a great reward, even greater than good." -- Master Kahn

"What is greater than good?" -- Young Caine

"Love." -- Master Kahn

"And what is love?" -- Young Caine

"Love is harmony, even in discord." -- Master Kahn

"To be alone, without one to love, is a waste of the body. To be not alone, without one to love, is a waste of the soul." -- Master Kahn

"Examine the flower. Is not the flower, in each position, yet a flower?" -- Master Po

"Shall I then treat each man the same?" -- Caine

"As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all." -- Master Po

"Yet, the flower beneath the water knows not the sun. Other men, not knowing me, will find me hard to understand." -- Caine

"Accept the ways of others. Respect first your own." -- Master Po

"I have three treasures which I hold and keep. The first is mercy, for from mercy comes courage. The second is frugality, from which comes generosity to others. The third is humility, for from it comes leadership." -- Master Po

"Strange treasures. How shall I hold them and keep them? Memory?" -- Caine

"No, Grasshopper, not in memory, but in your deeds." -- Master Po

"But Master, how do I not contend with a man that would contend with me?" -- Caine

"In a heart that is one with nature, though the body contends, there is no violence, and in the heart that is not one with nature, though the body be at rest, there is always violence. Be, therefore, like the prow of a boat. It cleaves water, yet it leaves in its wake water unbroken." -- Master Po

"Ten million living things have as many worlds. Do not see yourself as the center of the universe, wise and good and beautiful. Seek, rather, wisdom, goodness, and beauty, that you may honor them everywhere." -- Master Kahn

"Where is evil, in the rat, whose nature it is to steal grain, or in the cat, whose nature it is to kill the rat?...The rat does not steal, the cat does not murder, rain falls, the stream flows, a hill remains. Each acts according to its nature." -- Master Po

"See the way of life as a stream. A man floats, and his way is smooth. The same man turning upstream exhausts himself. To be one with the universe, each must find his true path and follow it." -- Master Kahn

"The river seeks its own level. It will not fight the rock, it flows around it. The rock becomes a refuge in the river." -- Master Po

"You cannot put out water with fire." -- Caine

"How'd you find out about this stuff?" -- Huntoon

"I listened." -- Caine

"If you plant rice, rice will grow. If you plant fear, fear will grow." -- Caine

"Reach out, yet be wary of what you allow yourself to grasp." -- Master Po

"If the jury cannot see innocence in my eyes, will they find it in a lawyer's mouth?" -- Caine

"Each waking moment is as a rung on an endless ladder. Each step we take is built on what has gone before." -- Caine

"Ignore the insulting tongue. Duck the provoking blow. Run from the assault of the strong." -- Master Kahn

"The wild boar runs from the tiger, knowing that each be well-armed by nature with deadly strength, may kill the other. Running, he saves his own life and that of the tiger. This is not cowardice. It is the love of life." -- Master Kahn

"Between father and son, there is a bridge which neither time nor death can shatter. Each stands at one end, needing to cross, and meet....The bridge of which I speak, Grasshopper, is your love for him." -- Master Po

"We taught you, young man, because you already knew." -- Master Kahn

"The pole, the bow, the arrow, are one, not many things." -- Caine

"When you cease to strive to understand, then you will know without understanding." -- Caine

"Do you know the praying mantis? It looks like it's praying. That is the position it takes before it kills." -- Master Kahn

"If you tie two birds together, though they have four wings, they cannot fly" -- Caine

"THE VOICE OF THEOPHILUS" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

The New Testament Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke are referred to as the "Synoptic Gospels" in that they say pretty much the same thing. Indeed, etymologically, the word "Synoptic" is derived from the Greek, meaning "same view." In a sense, these Gospels bear witness of one another. This is also true of the Old Testament. For example, 2 Samuels is a reiteration of 1 Chronicles. They are "Synoptic" in that they speak of the exact same historical, biblical occurrence. Often we hear that the Bible is "The Word of God." What is written is written because "Thy Word is Truth."

During my Federal incarceration for committing the crime of leading The National Interfaith Pro-Life Crusade to save the lives of the unborn, I undertook the daunting task of reading my very own, beautifully leather-bound, Revised Standard Bible, imprinted with my ordination name, "Theophilus."

Luke, writing to me across the centuries of time wrote: 
"INASMUCH as many have undertaken to compile an account of the things accomplished among us, 2. just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the Word have handed them down to us, 3. it seemed fitting for me as well, having investigated everything carefully from the beginning to write it out for you in consecutive order, most Excellent Theophilus; 4. so that you might know the exact truth about the things you have been taught."

The lessons to Theophilus continued in Acts.

It took from November 29, 1977 until April 18, 1978 to read every single word and to diagram every genealogy listed in my Bible. Each time I picked up the Bible to read, I said this prayer:

"My dear Lord God! Please strengthen and increase my powers of concentration to shut out all distractions so that I may greatly expand the limits of my consciousness and intelligence to easily understand and remember the deepest meanings of all that is written upon the pages of this book."

Despite the fact that it is well known that I remember everything I read, I was after complete understanding, not just content. I would not continue reading unless I was absolutely certain that I understood exactly what it was I read.

After having read 604 pages, I came across a startling discovery in 1 Chronicles, Chapter 21 verse 1.

Leaping out from the page at me were these words:

"Then Satan stood up against Israel and moved David to number Israel."- 1 Chronicles 21:1

This is the very first mention of the word "Satan" in the Bible. I made a notation of this and continued my reading. Suddenly, it struck me that I had read these words before in 2 Samuel 24:1. Look at this and compare these two readings which are

"Now again the anger of the Lord burned against Israel, and it incited David against them to say, "Go number Israel and Judah." - 2 Samuel 24:1

Since "Thy Word is Truth" and scripture cannot be broken, what does this mean?

If a=b and b=c, then a=c. This is a mathematical truth.

Q. Who stood up against Israel to incite David in 1 Chronicles 21:1?

Answer: "Satan"

Q. Whose anger burned against Israel to incite David in 2 Samuel 24:1?

Answer: "The Lord"

Therefore: "Satan is the Anger of the Lord."

PLEASE DON'T LOOK; YOU MIGHT SEE WHAT'S GOING ON by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

Our "Political Class" is a Dysmorphic Plutocratic Pyramid. It is Top Heavy and needs buttressing from an extended Tax-Paying Base to support the increasing numbers of “les faineants,” the “Do Nothing” Public Servants, before it crumbles.

Illegal Immigrants will continue to inundate America because they are the Building Blocks of the New World Order Feudal System.

Once all borders are erased and Eminent Domain appropriates all private properties, this uneducated pool of “Work Resource Units,” once pejoratively termed “Serfs,” will consider themselves fortunate to be fed, clothed, and housed, by the Ruling Elite who are anxiously awaiting the day that existing Royalty can confer upon them, not Honorary, but Actual Titles of Nobility, such as, Lords and Ladies, Knights, Earls, Dukes, and Duchesses, etc.

The “Herodian” architects of the January 22, 1973, Roe V. Wade decision have effectively prevented 60 million American Citizens from being born and have removed their rightful places in society.

This Vacancy of Opportunity has made room for a new subclass of de facto citizens by virtue of leaving the door open.

The fences now going up will not be to keep Invaders out, but are Rat Traps to keep them in, once they get here, and the Pyramid Base Quota is met.

I am afraid that internments at FEMA Camps, now under construction, as well as newly constructed Prisons, await the “Rabble Rousers” who are playing Paul Revere.

Media Consolidation is presenting a monolithic message to the lower consciousnessed, who are a majority, urging them to vote us into a “Tale of Two Cities” future where "the best of times and the worst of times" will become more clearly defined.

" Who We Really Are" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

The Ego is Satan, the "Resistor." It is futilely fighting extinction, annihilation, with every bit of determination fueled by Fear because it is, after all, Mortal, therefore, False.

We must grant the ephemeral Ego "Free Will" so it may willingly die for us; that it must love us enough to set us free from the Cage of Acquired Habits it built for and which imprisons, us.

What the Ego fears will come to it. It fears us, because we are Love. We love first because we are the Source. The Ego, in returning love, lets go and surrenders to the Absolute, because it is much more joyful to love than to be loved. Thus, the Lover and Beloved become One.

The greatest danger in experiencing the "Unitive Vision" is the unwillingness of the Ego to let go and let God. The use of words, such as, "I," "Me," "My," and "Mine," are direct evidence that the Ego is in a state of Resistance to Annihilation, i.e., Surrender to the Will of God.

This is the definition of "Satan," the "Resistor."

There is a marked difference between "will" and "Will." The drop that falls into the ocean does not retain its identity; it becomes One with the All.

If an Enlightened Being sees himself as anything other than a part of the Whole and deludes himself into thinking he is other than, separate from, or in any way above another, he is diagnosed as a Malignant Messianic Megalomaniacal Narcissist. Pray like Hell that you don't fit this definition.

The Story of "THE 666 REFERRAL SERVICE" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

(Continued from: "THE STORY OF JUDAS" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts")

April 18, 1978. After driving over the Ben Franklin Bridge and discovering on the downhill that the brakes on Anna’s car had been sabotaged, I knew damned well that I had to get busy. There wasn't much time to do what I had to do. It was not even close to being over. At first, I was willing to let things ride for all of the bullshit they put me through, but when I realized that Anna’s life was in danger, at the mercy of these nameless, faceless monsters; I was left with no choice but to play the hand I was dealt.

After several days of enjoying my freedom, I contacted representatives of the New Jersey State Policemen’s Benevolent Association, told them who I was, what I was all about, and what I planned to do.

I was appointed Advertising Director of their official newspaper, “THE FINEST,” when I demonstrated, before their eyes, that I was personally able to raise thousands of advertising dollars with just a few phone calls, WITH NO HEAT, while, at the same time, forming a police support group that would back up the police under any and all circumstances. My Code Name was Lou Donatello.

Because I was under a vow of Poverty and Obedience to the Church, owning nothing, I donated almost all monies, in cash, to the PBA, keeping only what I needed to maintain myself. "Thou shalt not muzzle the Ox while he's threshing."

I sponsored Police Softball Leagues, Basketball Leagues, Dinners, supplied Police Vests, and any and all things to demonstrate to the Police that I was not a criminal, but a Political Prisoner. If someone in the future was going to make problems for me, I was making damned sure they got paid back in spades.

I launched stop drunk driving campaigns, stop child abduction campaigns, wrote and sponsored radio spots for public safety announcements by Police Chiefs, trained hundreds of salespeople,and wrote the sales presentations for all Official Police Newspapers, directed political campaigns for Chiefs and Police Officers, including posters, photos, writing speeches, newspaper articles, the whole ball of wax.

Before too long, a State Police Investigator began a probe of my activities; questioning printers, my local PBA, among others. When the Investigator came to my apartment, his main concern was why I was giving money to the police. Because all donations were in cash, I asked who it was that said that I was giving money. He said the police said so. I truthfully replied, “Well that may be, but whatever donations were made, it was because I understand what they go through each and every day, and to let them know that they always have a friend here.”

Because the Bell of Truth Rings in Every Man, the State Police Investigator left as a friend and we were friends until his death several years ago. Although I have made personal friends with hundreds of law enforcement officials through the years, including contacts in the National Security Agency, to avoid even the appearance of impropriety, it has been my personal choice to avoid one-on-one social interaction which might have compromised their position.


July 1979, I was invited to attend the New Jersey State Police Chiefs Convention. Thousands were in attendance, including the Governor, Attorney General, and Police and Political Dignitaries of every rank and stripe.

Before the social amenities of the evening took place, I met, in secret, with the office holders of the Association and laid out my plans for a Chiefs Magazine to be titled, “THE VOICE OF THE CHIEFS.” It would be fully supported by an elite group of 5,000 advertisers, who were personally tested by me, and made members of a non-incorporated group, bound together by their word. The name of the group: THE 666 REFERRAL SERVICE.

At the cocktail party, I made sure I had my photo taken with the Governor and every office holder present, which I later published.

The dinner was held in a huge auditorium, complete with dais, lectern, backdrops, etc. I made two speeches both of which received thunderous applause when I presented a diamond ring and men’s gold bracelet to the incoming and outgoing presidents, respectively. (This is pretty funny shit when you think about it.)

One week after the Convention, the first, and only, Photo Edition issue of “THE VOICE OF THE CHIEFS” was published and distributed. The shit really hit the fan. Everybody even remotely connected to me was now under investigation by someone.

"Whoever they were," came for me in the middle of the night. I was taken to a hotel in East Brunswick and ushered into a darkened hospitality room. Seated around the table were eight men in suits. I couldn’t make out who they were in the darkness. What they were, however, was apparent; they represented Authority. It was quite evident that they were all wearing guns because they made no effort to conceal them.

After all the preliminary questions: WHO, WHAT, WHERE, WHY, AND HOW, they got to the big one. They all stood up, looming as large as they could, turned towards me, jackets pushed back to show their guns, and the one who seemed to be in charge, asked, in a very contemptuous tone of voice:

“What’s this 666 Referral Service?”

“What do you think it is?” I replied.

“Don’t you read the Bible? Don’t you know what that means?” he countered.

I stared directly into his eyes, into his very soul, so that he could see me as I am, and very deliberately, very measuredly, intoned these words: “Well, if you think that, don’t you think that you should be questioning me a lot more carefully than you are?”

Sensing the fear of their spirits, I then assured them, out of the understanding of their hosts, that I would not consider this arrogance in the Later Time. Now that we all knew who was who and what was what, a veil of forgetfulness was then drawn across their remembrances as we adjourned back into the world of ordinary appearances.

NEXT: Double Jeopardy.

DAKOTA JIM, "Warden of the Great Wolf Spirit" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

(In loving, respectful memory of my Father. Awarded Position of America's first Department of Defense Police Chief by virtue of taking First Place in Written Competitive Examination and First Place in Physical Fitness. b. October 22, 1911, d. February 9, 1981)


Dakota Jim "Warden of the Great Wolf Spirit"
by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

From out of the birches, in the Heart of the Black Hills, came Dakota Jim;
How he got here, where he came from, was never revealed to him.
He was not of the tribe who raised him; he was different from the rest;
Yet of all the ways of the Warrior, it was Dakota Jim who was the best.
The Great Spirit was his Teacher; the Great Mother was his School;
To observe and learn from all about him was the Natural Rule.
Running, jumping, fighting, climbing, it was always he who stood alone;
When others dared to challenge him, his stare turned them all to stone.
He needed no tribe to call his own to witness who he must be;
Because Dakota Jim was the Chief of Chiefs, as anyone could plainly see.

THE ORDINATION OF THOMAS by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

Dearly Beloved Children of God Who Are Left With Me in "Egypt"
(This may not be True. Fact or Fiction, it's up to you.)

May I be so bold as to approach you and tell you of the news I bring? To all of you who live, I greet you with love in my heart so you may know your Father has not forgotten you. This I know because I am your Father’s friend. Now lest you think I elevate myself, this you must know: I am the least of all of you – “the empty pot!” Because I found my life, I lost my life and walk like a dead man among the living. If it were possible for me to give my life so that you all may live, I would not refuse to do so. But there is nothing to offer; there can be no sacrifice through me because the “I” that you see is not the “I” which was taken in the rapture of 1973. The All went out from me to the top of the Mountain in the sight of the Mighty Living One, and three words were given me to withstand the Legion who sought to dwell in me. In the war which followed, the Two-Edged Sword of “The Three Words” shielded me from possession by a horror that cannot be described, and cast them out into the world. A veil of forgetfulness was drawn across my remembrances until a later time.

Thus I was born, “the container of undifferentiated energy,” on Easter Sunday, in the year called “the Resurrection,” in a place known as “the Branch,” the parish of Our Lady Star of the Sea. First wedded to “Life,” I fell into the “Pit.” I knocked upon the “Door” in “the Wilderness” which gave me rest. It was here, again, at Easter time, I found “my Cross.” She came to me in “bitterness” because she was full of “grace” – “the Son of the King” – who had no place for her to lay his head. It was she who said, “Nothing is forever,” and “Moon-Child” that she was, left me with the knowledge that “it is better to love than to be loved.” I returned to the “Door” from whence I came and learned the answer to the Riddle of the Sphinx, which is; “Where does the Circle begin, and where does it end?” "It begins in Virgo and ends in Leo."

When Christ was born beside the “City of Brotherly Love,” He looked down upon Thomas, which means “Twin,” and had great compassion for this brother whom He loved, and gave him Three Words to protect him on his journey. Thus the Child became the Father of the Man, who was the Son of Man. This, the “August Experience,” began in Leo, which is the End. Thomas was taken to the foundation of the world, to the beginning of Time. He saw the creation of all things and stood in the Void within the Mighty Living One, asking himself the Eternal Questions.

One day, Love came back. The “Twins” went to the “City of My Love.” In that city, Thomas was falling away into Hell, when he called upon his Lord to save him. The Lord came to Thomas and strengthened him. He showed Thomas what he must do, and brought him outside and showed him the “Kingdom of Heaven.” Now here is a mystery: the Kingdom of Heaven is here upon the face of the earth, but we do not see it. Thomas was commissioned to be Christ’s Champion and to serve when called. From that day, he was called, “Steve Savage King of the Beasts” because “he had no fear of man;” he was redeemed.

Where those who had gone before, first went West, then South, Thomas first went South, then West, because he began at the End. In the "City of Angels,” Thomas was instructed and initiated into the Mysteries. He lived as Steve Savage, in Tarzana, preparing himself for what he must do; for Thomas was a Beast like no other. Thomas became God's friend and willing to do whatever was God’s Will. He began to call the faithful to him because he heard a man of God speak out for the love of God’s Children. Not wanting to make himself known to those he called, he became “The Twin of the One Who Leads in Serving,” lest he frighten them if they knew him to be “The King of the Beasts,” i.e., Steve Savage, “the abomination who now stands in the place of the One who followed the Bright Star to stand in the Holy Place.”

Full Circle: Thomas came home to greet his Love and found his Love had left through the “Door” from which He came. Thomas was grief-stricken and asked God for the meaning of these things. This was the time of Virgo, the face of, or the beginning of, the Sphinx. Thomas, then called his Love home to his breast, away from the powers which held His Life. It was three years since Thomas had been One with his Love. A year is as a day. And this, the “First-Born of the Dead,” he allowed to die within his sorrow. It grieved Thomas greatly to feel his Love suffer so. But it was for the love of Love that he let it die, so that it may live at the right hand of His Father.

Now, all that Thomas loved had been taken from him. God was leading him into the Truth because this was Thomas’s desire. Thomas learned that God was in deep sorrow because His Children were being slaughtered and sacrificed to Moloch in the name of God, which is blasphemy. And because Thomas was a father who also lost his sons, and longed to be with them, he understood and had great compassion for God because he knew His sorrow and vowed before his Friend that he would turn the hearts of the fathers to the children.

Now, the "Disobedient Ones" thought that they had another sacrifice to offer up. They thought that by sacrificing me that they would have a stay of execution; that God would be too grief-stricken to exact Revenge.

I can't begin to tell you what great pleasure it gives me to tell you this: You were born to die; every damned last one of you. But how many of you truly know that There are Two Men in Man. The earthly man, as I am, hits the ground and rots. As in Dust to Dust! But the Son of Man, the Spiritual Man, has nowhere to lay his head. I am very tired and really have no need to live beyond this time. But you, my friends, are going to live forever! FOREVER! Can you imagine what it would be like to live with no arms and legs? Well, then, imagine what it will be like without a body. That is why the Son of Man has no place to lay his head, while birds have nests and foxes have holes.

You’ve painted yourselves into a corner and you don’t even know it. Council on Foreign Relations, Tri-lateral Commissions, Illuminati, Foreign Bank Conspiracies, Mafia – it’s all the Bullshit "Boogy Man Game," if you’ll excuse my French. You have no power in the Material World! You're all about to learn how the game is really played. There’s no way out of this mess now. I've had 43 years to make sure that When I go, You All Go. If you don’t believe it, finish me off. In fact, at that so-called kangaroo court in Philadelphia, you think that you tried me? Ha! Let’s see who tried whom. And, in case any of you think there’s still time left, check out your Bibles. Does it say anything about the end not coming until “The Man of Lawlessness is revealed?”

It's all here on this blog if you have the courage to read it.

"Are Pisceans the Repository of Supreme Intelligence?" by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

I used to complain that I was born with no talent, no abilities, no gifts; couldn't sing, couldn't dance. But I was given one gift: the Gift of Appreciation, the ability to recognize genius in others. The most intelligent people that I have ever met, for reasons that I have not yet been able to figure out, were all March Born Pisces. Indeed, the predominant people in my life have all been of this Astrological Sign, shared by no less a genius than Albert Einstein, a March 12th Pisces. One thing they all seem to have in common, is that they reject establishment-type employment; and are human magnets who have the uncommonly good fortune to attract fantastically beautiful, intelligent women. Each of these brilliant men created/invented every facet of their own businesses which they play as a game for fun and profit among we mere mortals. They seem to have no need for fame or great fortune to validate their self worth. That's because the whole world is, for them, a vineyard where they can pick "money-grapes" off the vine whenever they choose. It would be impossible for me to say which of these Pisceans was the more superior in intellect because each has manifested and exercised his respective genius in ways that are uniquely his alone. These Piscean Geniuses are presented here, in the chronological order in which we met:

1. Dick Brown: March 13th Pisces: A childhood friend, 1940's and '50's, in Long Branch, New Jersey, where we grew up across the street from one another. Dick was a natural born entrepreneur, leader, creative genius, able to solve any problem which mystified everyone else. He was always the first by whom the new was tried. Endowed with geat natural athletic ability, Dick was adept at everything from making slingshots, shooting a rifle, ice skating, bicycle tricks, springboard diving, gymnastics, and so much more. Any personal setback in his life only proved to be a learning process, a stepping stone to ever higher levels of achievement.

2. Kevin Fister: March 11th Pisces: First met, 1966, as Long Branch Life Guards. Kevin was a master surfer. A mechanical genius without peer, Kevin is also a master mechanic, master sailor, entrepreneur; indeed, the word "master" seems to apply to everything he does. Through the sheer force of his personal genius, Kevin has been able to withstand onslaughts from Eminent Domain Abusers, using the power of their political offices, seeking to appropriate his very desirable, very valuable properties, to line their own pockets. Every time their most expensive, high profile attorneys make their move, Kevin is there before them. He could very easily accept the millions offered him, but that would only end the Game and spoil the excitement. Kevin is playing a very high stakes "chess game" and loving every minute of it.

3. Carl Budde: March 11th Pisces: Carl, my publishing partner, in Tarzana, California, 1976, was a childhood prodigy, whose IQ was off the charts, and excelled at every sport. The most complicated problems, of any kind, were mere child's play for Carl. He is the inventor of every phase of the electronic money system in use throughout the banking industry, retail industry, you name it, for wherever "near money" is used. He knew every facet of publishing. He could sell, source, create innovative logistics that were absolutely brilliant.

4. Bill Jennings: March 10th Pisces: My business partner since 1991 and business associate since 1984. Bill, like Carl, has an IQ off the charts. From as little as next to nothing, he has been able to establish companies that immediately brought in revenues from dead stop to first week, of $50,000 and more, with practically no overhead, almost all profit. He's the guy that really knows how to make the "Net" count. Bill, one of Columbia Universities brightest graduates is a brilliant published author, in the genre of James Joyce. I personally believe Bill will one day be recognized as having surpassed even that literary icon. Famous authors continually nominate him for our highest literary awards. He is also the greatest salesman I have ever met and shoots a very mean game of Basketball. Working often less than three hours per week, he is able to maintain a very, very comfortable life style with an income that most others would have to work 50 to 60 hours to equal.

5. Kirt McMaster: March 9th Pisces: I first encountered Kirt via an email he sent to me after reading my Amazon.com review on Richard Maurice Bucke's "Cosmic Consciousness." While dozens of people have tried to convince me over the years that they had attained the "Unitive Vision," sometimes referred to as the "Beatific Vision," "Samadi," "Nirvana;" most of these frauds were only "Asses carrying the metaphysics of others." The one thing these fakes all have in common is that they all plagiarized accounts of those who have actually had the experiences. Kirt was the only one who gave an account of his experiences that was credible. A Harvard MBA, hailing from Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, Kirt is endowed with cosmic intelligence. Indeed, at this time, he just may be the most spiritually evolved Homo Solaris on the planet. He is prophetic, perspicacious, and a lens through which the Infinite is focused. His spirituality is evolving exponentially, and he will, no doubt, be a major figure, if not the major figure, on the world stage as the End Times Drama begins to unfold more rapidly. I often quote: "Only he who walks the Path knows the Doctrine." If you are one who is on the Path, visit Kirt's Blog at: http://tahariel.blogger.com/

TO THE PRISONER: by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

TO THE PRISONER
by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

What's outside this Prison, this Ball
In which I'm Contained?
Am I being Punished;
Is this why I'm being Restrained?
No matter how far I push the Boundary,
It's always the Same I See;
The Near is Far; the Far is Near,
And I am always "ME."
---------------------------------------------
By now you must have realized that you are an imprisoned Singularity, the paradigm upon which all Eukaryotic Metaphors are imagined and created, a Dimensionless point of Consciousness of Infinite Mass, solitarily confined in Time and Space within the very center of a Great Round Silver-Mirrored Ball, your very own Black Hole. The interior surface of that Ball, the Event Horizon, presents to you information of all Known Existence. Indeed, you can only recognize that which you know.

As you look all about, what you see before you are yourself as you were, as you are, and as you are going to be. You, a Part of the One Fractionated Consciousness, inhabit the Reflected Enantiomorphic Virtual Image that is created by the 360-degree Concavity of the Ball’s Interior Surface; the perceptual boundary of your consciousness, your Prison Wall, your Cell, your Cosmic Egg, as it were.

Because this World is your Idea, the World you alone created; you, and you alone, are responsible for everything in it.

You wanted to play God; well, this was your chance. How do you like what you've created so far? Here is the way the Law of Compensation works: If you plant corn, you get corn – a hundred grains for one. What have you planted? Is it a Heaven or Hell? Smarten up! Rehabilitate (re-clothe) yourself with Perfection.

See yourself in others, because there are no others, only yourself in different forms. You are all there is. See Beauty in all things. Most of all, MOST OF ALL, Love everything with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your might. Cast your bread upon the waters so it will return to you.

You're not going anywhere. You've been given a Life Sentence, so you might as well make the best of it.

THE NATIONAL INTERFAITH PRO-LIFE CRUSADE by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

He walked past the first window, and then I saw him pass the second. I knew that next, I would hear his knock on my door. There was no need to ask why he had come; I knew, though I had only seen him once before in his present host. “Judas” had arrived, the cast was complete, and the Grand Drama was about to begin anew. “I,” “Judas,” and “the Evil Witch,” clothed in our new names and new hosts.

Two weeks earlier, on July 14, 1976, The National Interfaith Pro-Life Crusade was launched to make a conscience appeal to our lawmakers to stop the killing of the unborn. The purpose of the campaign was to join together all those who shared the conviction that the taking of the life of an innocent baby in the womb is contrary to the fundamental principles of morality.

Synchronistically enough, that was Bastille Day; and later, I would recall that Jesus, in his time, announced that he had come to “declare liberty to the captives.”

“Caiaphas,” i.e., Archbishop Joseph L. Bernardine, President that year of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops, “the Sanhedrin,” suggested that the appeal be made this way: “Let the children come to me and do not hinder them; for to such belong the kingdom of heaven.”

I was chosen to be Herald because, if we failed in our efforts, I would be least able to defend myself: High School dropout, "Drummed" out of the US Army after one year in the stockade, Undesirable Discharge, fired and disgraced from my job, divorced, phony attempted suicide, and numerous other Black Marks, that all added up to making me the natural “Fall Guy” if and when the shit hit the fan.

Two months into the Crusade, "Judas" and I had joined together through the leaders of their respective parishes, temples, synagogues, congregations, and mosques, six million Catholics, Jews, Protestants, and Muslims. 

We published “The VOICE of THEOPHILUS” containing the first published photo of an aborted fetus, a list representing three million of all those who affixed their names to the declaration that:

“We THREE MILLION CHAMPIONS FOR LIFE, fully and actively support the American Bishops’ declaration that ‘the opinion of the Court is wrong, and is entirely contrary to the fundamental principles of morality.'”

I learned a lot about "Judas" during the course of our work. We became close friends. He was the most intelligent person I had ever met. He was the inventor of every phase of the electronic money/credit card system currently used everywhere in our almost cashless society today. Funny how things are: his host's last name was, coincidentally, the same as my nickname.


Like all men of the flesh, he had a weakness; his mother was an alcoholic. Perhaps that was the reason why he was romantically drawn to older women who drank and tried to reform them. Sadly, alcoholism was his problem, too; though he never let me see that side of him.

September 20, 1976, I walked into my home and found “the Evil Witch” gone! – she had abducted my 27-month-old son.

This was my second loss of a family and children. I asked God why this was happening: "I'm almost 40 years old and it's been one heartbreaking betrayal after another. If I had a daughter, I'd want her to be married to a guy like me; if I had a friend, I'd want that friend to be like me; I'd want a father like me; I'd want a brother like me; I’d want a son like me."

This was the moment of learning to love myself. I opened the Bible, for the first time in my life, and it fell open to Deuteronomy 8 and read:

"And you shall remember all the way which the Lord your God has led you in the wilderness these forty years, that He might humble you, testing you, to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments or not. Thus you are to know in your heart that the Lord your God was disciplining you just as a man disciplines his son. Therefore, you shall keep the commandments of the Lord your God, to walk in His ways and to fear Him.”

In a revelation, I learned the Truth of who I was. Fully awakened, I repented on my knees before God for my disobedience with these words from the Two Great Commandments:

"Take my heart so my courage will not fail me and cause a brother to stumble and lose hope by my example. Take my soul until Thy Will be done. Take my mind so my thoughts are Thy thoughts. Most of all, dear Father, take the Free Will which Thou hast given me by which I have created unfavorable circumstances and became first their obedient servant and then their victim." (At this exact moment, I was overcome by God’s Infinite Love for me) "How much more joyful it is to love than to be loved. Be not far from me my God. I wish to tell Thee each moment of my love for Thee."

As time passed, I learned that it was the Evil Witch who was the actual betrayer of the Crusade, not Judas! Her politically ambitious Mob family informed the Jimmy Carter White House of the magnitude and intent of the Crusade. As a reward for this treachery, her cousin was named White House Counsel to VP Walter Mondale, later backed by that party to become a New Jersey Congressman, then a United States Senator, from which his natural character flaws, forced him to resign in disgrace, and it’s not over yet.

"THE NATIONAL CATHOLIC REPORTER," a newspaper condemned by the Catholic Church in 1964, fueled the fire to sabotage the Crusade. Thousands of copies of “The VOICE of THEOPHILUS” were confiscated and burned. I was dragged 3,000 miles across the country to appear before a Grand Jury composed of government agents.

After returning to Tarzana, California, to await the Grand Jury decision, I resumed the work of the Crusade, selling “The VOICE of THEOPHILUS” door-to-door, outside supermarkets, anywhere and everywhere.

In May 1977, I stood up in the center of my living room. There was a Divine, Purely Feminine Spiritual Presence about me, surrounding me, permeating me as though I were in a cloud of Pure and Perfect Love. Lovingly enfolded within her vulval wings, the entering of my Self (Ayn) into her Being (Ayn Soph) was a sexual ecstasy of most divine infinite loving bliss - the “Ayn Soph Aur." I was the willing sacrifice so that I could be born again in her.

This surrender of Self to the Absolute, Cosmic Conception, was Life’s Great Love Story and it was happening to me.” The “I,” the Life that was within me is no longer here. The “I” that you see is the empty shell, the husk, the mortal man.

Soon after, on May 23rd, 1977, I read in the newspaper that I was indicted. I sold everything I owned for a plane ticket to Philadelphia to stand trial. Before leaving, I called the Duty Officer at the National Security Agency. I wasn't going to take the chance that they would come for me and claim I was resisting arrest, then kill me. I had no doubt that I would have to be as wily as the serpent and as innocent as the dove.

The Court Psychiatrist made it very clear that if I continued my stance, they were going to do a lobotomy on me.

While awaiting trial, I took an Oath of Obedience and sent it to Pope Paul VI by registered mail. Soon after, he announced that a Secret Cardinal had been named. 

September 20, 1977, one year to the day the Evil Witch left, Anna came into my life. We recognized each other immediately. She was that Loving Presence, my Magdalene, the Shekinah, made Flesh. "I found my Love, my Perfect Love, who had rejected all the others; it was me She chose to be One with Her from out the Sea of Brothers."

She was my confidence because I knew that as long as I felt her love for me, then I could be certain that God loved me too because all love comes from God. She was my strength; she was my Rock; she was my courage for the role I was destined to play. It was only she who could truly see me in my spirit.

I was given a Trial, straight out of a Franz Kafka novel, unable to have an attorney of my choice, nor given a chance to confront my secret accusers, watching those visiting demons from around the world make their signs and secret signals in the Courtroom to one another and to the Judge.

Oddly enough, outside the Federal Courthouse, apparently unrelated to my situation, demonstrators were gathered with gags over their mouths, carrying signs that read, "Liberty to the captives!"

“Judas” appeared as a witness for the prosecution, as I expected. He didn’t want to do it; I knew that, but he was so weak and unable to stand up to the fear they had instilled in him.

The judge instructed the jury to find me guilty. I was sentenced to 65 years, thrown into a cage at the Philadelphia Detention Center, inhabited by murderers, rapists, thieves, and sexual deviates of every description, walking around masturbating with rolls of toilet paper in their hands. No one laid a hand on me, nor was I threatened in any way by the prisoners.

I was soon transferred to Danbury Federal Prison. There was one who pretended to be a prisoner but was actually an undercover agent. He tried everything in his power to get me to commit some kind of violence against him so that they could justify my being incarcerated. When he taunted me once with, "You've been swallowed by a Bear!", meaning I was trapped with no way out, I let him know that the "Bear had swallowed poison meat!" I saw through his cover, and he knew I saw through it.

The Prison Priest was actually an undercover guard or agent. He kept asking me why I never went to confession. I reminded him that he was not carrying the Keys to the Kingdom on his belt; they were the Keys to the Prison.

The Black Muslims, who actually run the prisons, were the hosts of the Angels who watched over me day and night. Imams, Sufis, Rosicrucians, and Cabbalists instructed me in secret teachings. I was not in Prison; I was in school. I had access to the most esoteric texts and, in the space of three months of uninterrupted study, I was ready to do the job for which it was intended I do.

I was appointed Associate Editor of the prison magazine, “THE OUTLOOK” and wrote cryptic articles that were mailed by the thousands to members of the National Interfaith Pro-life Crusade.

At the beginning of April 1978, I began a fast-until-death unless released. After three months in Hell, I was released on April 18, 1978, onto the streets of Philadelphia, still in a prison uniform. Wonder if they were hoping someone would shoot me.

END OF PART ONE

NEXT: THE STORY OF THE 666 REFERRAL SERVICE

RECEIPT FOR YOUR SOUL by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

RECEIPT FOR YOUR SOUL
by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

"It is better that you should not vow than that you should vow and not pay."

-Ecclesiastes 5:5

Did you give your Word to One Unknown,

Who called you on your telephone?
And did you your Word to Him dare break?
Then you’ve lost your Soul for heaven’s sake!
Because you vowed and did not pay,
Before Hell’s Throne you’ll rue this day.
In the beginning was the Word;
What that is you’ve surely heard.
When upon His face you one day look,
You’ll see the One whose hand you shook.
Oh, you’ll pray to Him who redeemed you once;
But His ransom’s paid - poor foolish dunce!
For it was not your money that Shadow sought;
Now paid-in-full, what have you bought?

THE MAN OF LAWLESSNESS REVEALED: A Short Story by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

[Reprinted as first published ten days into my "Fast-Until-Death-Unless-Freed": The Outlook Magazine, Book 3, Vol. 2, the Federal Correctional Institution at Danbury, Connecticut, April 1978.]

FROM: Associate Editor, Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN: (AND THAT’S ALL OF YOU!)

FIRST OF ALL: I certainly hope that all of you have enjoyed your respective naps. . .

BECAUSE: As you can see, while you slept, you went out of control. . .

AND: Some of the others woke up first. They have taken advantage of your semi-hypnotic state. Through the use of . . .

SUBLIMINAL: Suggestion, you have become their unwitting slaves.

ALSO: They have imprisoned me because they were not able to program me. The reason for this is because. . .

FORTUNATELY: The Master foresaw the possibility of mutiny and programmed me differently from the rest of you. Because. . .

AFTER ALL: Once burned, twice shy! You see. . .

I HAVE: Been programmed to feed upon adversity, or the Adversary, whichever you prefer. The more difficult things are. . .

THE STRONGER: And more intelligent I become. Perhaps I should use the. . .

PAST TENSE: Because my work is done. You see, I was a fail-safe bio-mechanism, independent of worldly power and/or control. By. . .

THE TIME: The others, who first woke up, realized what I was, it was. . .

TOO LATE: I HAD ALREADY DONE MY JOB! THE SHIP IS DESTROYED! In all. . .

FAIRNESS: I tried to reason with the mutineers early in the game. All to no avail. . .

HOWEVER: I still believe that there is a very slim chance, requiring bold moves, which may yet save you. (I am not here!). . .

AFTER ALL: I AM THE DESTROYER! IT IS QUITE POSSIBLE THAT SOME FUSE MAY YET BE LEFT UNBURNED. BUT. . .

THERE ARE: STIPULATIONS WHICH MUST BE MET! I want assurance that no harm will come to those who first awoke. The Master. . .

WANTS: OR WANTED! all of you to be saved. You must turn complete . . .

CONTROL: Over to me. You know in your hearts who I am and what I represent. I love all of you as I was programmed/commanded to do, so you have nothing to fear from me. In any event. . .

WELCOME: To the RESURRECTION! To the Children of God, I greet you with love in my heart. WAKE UP TO LIFE EVERLASTING. And. . .

TO THE REST: WELCOME TO THE JUDGMENT! By the way, CHECKMATE! THE GAME’S ENDED AND THE SNAPPING TURTLE AWAITS LIGHTNING’S STRIKE!

"THE VOLUNTEER" A Story by Steve Savage "King of the Beasts"

I remember how I watched as he climbed up the ladder and entered the ship that brought me here. I also remember the abject loneliness I felt as the ship left the surface. I was never so isolated, so far from home and alone.

But I wasn’t alone! There were 276 souls, prisoners, and soldiers, who came before me aboard the Prison Ship that wrecked here during the Violent Celestial Storm of the Beginning.

Among them was a falsely accused Innocent who was classified among murderers and criminals that I volunteered to find and send back home.

When the Absolute divided within itself, into Existence and Relative Existence — One, Awareness, the Other, the Observed, a Horrific Violence, a Storm, as it were, at the Experiential Boundary where those “Two Great Seas” meet with such Ferocity, created, for lack of better words — Hell!

Even the most courageous of the Omnipotent’s Angels who looked upon that Horror, shrank back in fear of the Eternal Pain and Suffering which was there.

But it was the Omnipotent’s Son who was abducted and held hostage by the Prisoners.

“Who will go for Us?” He cried; “Who can We send?” His Anxiety was beyond the Dread of Suffering Eternal Grief. This was His Son!

He knew that when the bow of the Prison Ship was drawn into “The Place Where the Two Great Seas Meet,” it stuck and remained immovable, and the stern of the ship was broken up by the Maelstrom.

He feared that the soldiers’ plan to kill the prisoners, lest any escape, would also kill His Son, in error.

But the Centurion, wishing to save that Innocent, kept them from carrying out their plan. He ordered those who could swim to jump overboard first and make for the land and the rest on planks or on pieces of the ship.

And so it was that all were brought safely to land, and were now Stranded on an Island, a Great Round Ball in Mid-Eternity, the Interface of Zero and Infinity.

Because they were out of sight of Awareness, they were ignorant of who and what they were. It seems like only yesterday, but more than 2,000 years have passed since I first said, “I will go. Send me!” Knowing full well, I could never return home again.

I was the Ransom.

The Prisoners, because they were here before me, were always the First to Awake. Because I always shot off my big mouth, they also always knew who I was before I knew myself.

Their “Big Frame-Up” to get the Soldiers to kill me was reenacted dozens of times, through our countless lives.

“Forgive them, Father, they know not what they do.”

The Escaped Prisoners always hold positions of power, passing from Host to Host, whose names are “ Legion.” One, whose Host was “Herod,” killed 1,000’s of children in his effort to kill me when I was a child; 2,000 years later, he has killed millions trying to kill me in the womb.

But I’ve smartened up a lot in 2,000 years. How does it go? “Once burned, twice shy!”

The time has come to End Relative Existence and return to the Absolute; to bring on the Night of Brahma, Chaos, so the Golden Age may follow.

I have come as the Destroyer. The Prisoners have always been able to stave off this End by holding the Master’s Son as Hostage, but I have found the Master’s Son.

Their Hole Card is gone! He was hidden within me, the “King of Beasts.” “Duo Sunt in Homine,” There are Two Men in Man.

His Bride, the Shekinah, came to Him; they have gone through the Door and now they are One again in the Absolute.

With no Hostage to insure the Prisoners continuance, Relative Existence will soon be over.

“And the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the Spirit returns to God who gave it.”

There is one among you, a mortal; who, when he dies, the End comes. He has been a “Fail-Safe Mechanism,” independent of worldly authority.

Because he can relate all things to all things, he is the “Critical Point” personified.

When he dies, your Mortal selves, your hosts, will go — much like pulling the bottom can out of a Pyramid of Cans in a Supermarket, Order deconstructed into Chaos — THE GREAT DISSOLUTION.

Like Ron O’Neal said in the last line of the 1972 movie, “Super Fly,” “You better hope I don’t choke on a chicken bone.” But don’t worry guys; I volunteered to stay here with your Immortal selves.

What the Hell; if I can’t serve in Heaven, I might as well rule in Hell. And to make sure I’m not outnumbered, the Centurion and soldiers are staying with us.

Oh, when you see me in our appointed place;
Sitting upon the Throne of Hell,
You’ll have a last look upon the face,
Of one you knew too well.